Reading Monday
Jan. 27th, 2018 04:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brigdhWhat did you just finish?
Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen by Lois McMaster Bujold. The 16th in the Vorkosigan Saga, this book is a pretty significant departure from the rest of the series. For one thing, we're back to Cordelia's POV, who we haven't seen since Barrayar, book #2. We also have a new POV, Jole, long a minor background character in the series as Aral's protege and now given new importance. More significantly, Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen features exactly zero space battles, imperial politics, assassination attempts, spying, secret clones, or mercenary armies. The closest thing to an action plot that happens is planning a city-wide picnic and the minor drunken mishaps that inevitably occur on the day.
Instead the focus is on the romance between Cordelia and Jole. It's revealed that they, along with the deceased Aral, have long been in a V-shaped polyamorous relationship in which Cordelia and Jole only connected through Aral. But now he's gone, and they have to figure out what they are to one another, and if it's time for that to change. In addition, Cordelia has a limited number of frozen sperm from Aral and eggs from her younger self that she's considering turning into children; she offers some to Jole as well, and he has to deal with a) if he actually wants kids, and b) how to adjust his career and general life expectancies if so.
It's a quiet, adult book. Cordelia and Jole are both 50+, and the plot reflects that: people take their time before making decisions, they are well-established in their careers, and they have little to prove to themselves or others. The problems they deal with are how to transition from a distant if long-term friendship to a sexual/romantic relationship that, while passionate, isn't life-defining; the careful consideration of and planning for children; the awkwardness of dating when you'll have to introduce your new partner to your adult children. It's all very mature and thoughtful.
I found it an extremely enjoyable read, if maybe not a page-turner. It's just nice to spend time with pleasant people leading pleasant lives.
World Without End: Spain, Philip II, and the First Global Empire by Hugh Thomas. A nonfiction book, the third in a trilogy about the Spanish Empire. This one focuses on the time period of King Philip's reign (1527-1598), though it's more concerned with the country's new colonies than anything happening in Philip's court itself. The book is organized by place: we've got New Spain (modern Mexico and the surrounding areas), Peru (the former Incan empire, more or less), newly conquered areas of South America (Chile, Paraguay, Guyana, etc) and the Philippines.
Argh, this book. This fucking book. First of all, it took me over two weeks to read – and it's not that long, about 400 pages – which no book has done to me since... I don't even know when. It's been years at least. It's so unbelievably boring that every page was like trudging through thick mud. And since I spend a significant portion of my time reading articles from academic journals or PhD theses, when I say something is boring, it's not because I'm unfamiliar with the conventions of the genre. Another reviewer compared it to a "locally produced county history", and that is the perfect description. Endless lists of names, characterized only by the town they were born in, who they were relatives of, and the dates they served in various government posts? Got that. Long accounts of debates over tax rates or how to classify property? Yup. Analysis or insightful connection-making? None.
But more important than its mind-numbing lifelessness, World Without End is shockingly racist. I'll share just a few of the quotes I highlighted while reading:
Each subdivision had its particular name: thus the children of blacks and whites were mulattos, a useful designation which nobody seems to employ in our morally opaque twenty-first century.
Of course, the friars knew that vestigial idolatry continued, but such offenses were punished with nothing more serious than the occasional whipping.
(Ah, yes, the 'nothing serious' of being whipped for trying to practice your own religion)
Many slaves seemed at that time to prefer white masters to their indigenous black ones. Most slaves were bought as such, having been enslaved in Africa.
(HOW WOULD YOU EVEN KNOW THAT FIRST CLAIM. What the hell sort of historical record is he using here? This line is, of course, not footnoted.)
(In which Thomas endorses a ridiculous Spanish claim that it was going to conquer all of China using only 12 ships:)
Had it been approved, it would have amounted to the grand climax of a hundred years of Spanish conquests and struggles. Had it happened, it would surely have brought less deprivation to China than occurred under the Manchu dynasty and certainly less than under the terrible communist era of the twentieth century.
But don't worry! Thomas does not restrain his bigotry to non-white races. He's got plenty of condescension for women too. He barely mentions them throughout the book, which – fine. It's a history of conquistadors. He could have made more of an effort, but I understand that he's working from a limited source. But every women that does get mentioned is "beautiful". I AM SO NOT KIDDING:
The new queen, still only fourteen years old, had a dark and Italian complexion, recalling her Medici forbears. She was vivacious and attractive (pg 27)
Philip's mother was the beautiful, strong-minded and unbending Empress Isabel (pg 28)
His famously one-eyed yet beautiful wife, Ana (pg 43)
She was born in 1586 and the Indian maid who looked after her in her cot as a baby saw that she had two beautifully formed roses on her cheeks. (pg 148)
The delightful conquistadora Mencia de Nidos, a woman as beautiful as she was brave (pg 153)
Ursua's beautiful mestiza mistress, Ines de Atienza. She was renowned in the 1550s as 'the most beautiful woman in Peru' (pg 212 - a two for one! )
Unfortunately the prior's mother was a beautiful conversa, Violante Gomes (pg 231)
The tale of the beautiful gallega Isabel de Barreto (pg 327)
Another daughter of Montezuma, the apparently beautiful Techuipo (pg 333)
(By the way, I gathered these by running a search on the text for 'she', and can report that both 'sheep' and metaphorical shes – countries and boats, mostly – far outnumber actual women.)
Thomas also spends multiple chapters eulogizing the work of friars, priests, and missionaries: the buildings they constructed, the books they wrote, the languages they learned, the numbers they converted, etc etc. In their turn, the work of nuns get this one paragraph out of the entire book:
The nuns included brillant cooks. They made pretty dresses for the ever-present images of the Virgin. They chanted charming cradle songs and were, from time to time, allowed to swoon in amorous ecstasy.
I could go on, but I think y'all get the point. But I do want to share one more quote: the final paragraph of the entire book, which I feel really puts a cap on all the crazy shit that came beforehand.
The Spanish empire lasted three centuries, from the early sixteenth to the early nineteenth century. Its last remnants only fell in 1898, following the Spanish-American war in Cuba, over 400 years after Columbus had embarked for the Caribbean. Spain had left behind a Catholic religion and innumerable monuments, a tradition and much literature. Above all, it had created dependencies which matured successfully into the new independent countries of Latin America. Wars in this region are rare. In comparison with the rest of the world, Latin America now seems an oasis of peace.
If I could give World Without End less than one star, I absolutely would. I want to give it negative stars.
I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
What are you currently reading?
Barbary Station by R.E. Stearns. Lesbian space pirates! :D I am astonished none of you mentioned this when I was asking for space opera recs last month; it is like this book was designed for me.
Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen by Lois McMaster Bujold. The 16th in the Vorkosigan Saga, this book is a pretty significant departure from the rest of the series. For one thing, we're back to Cordelia's POV, who we haven't seen since Barrayar, book #2. We also have a new POV, Jole, long a minor background character in the series as Aral's protege and now given new importance. More significantly, Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen features exactly zero space battles, imperial politics, assassination attempts, spying, secret clones, or mercenary armies. The closest thing to an action plot that happens is planning a city-wide picnic and the minor drunken mishaps that inevitably occur on the day.
Instead the focus is on the romance between Cordelia and Jole. It's revealed that they, along with the deceased Aral, have long been in a V-shaped polyamorous relationship in which Cordelia and Jole only connected through Aral. But now he's gone, and they have to figure out what they are to one another, and if it's time for that to change. In addition, Cordelia has a limited number of frozen sperm from Aral and eggs from her younger self that she's considering turning into children; she offers some to Jole as well, and he has to deal with a) if he actually wants kids, and b) how to adjust his career and general life expectancies if so.
It's a quiet, adult book. Cordelia and Jole are both 50+, and the plot reflects that: people take their time before making decisions, they are well-established in their careers, and they have little to prove to themselves or others. The problems they deal with are how to transition from a distant if long-term friendship to a sexual/romantic relationship that, while passionate, isn't life-defining; the careful consideration of and planning for children; the awkwardness of dating when you'll have to introduce your new partner to your adult children. It's all very mature and thoughtful.
I found it an extremely enjoyable read, if maybe not a page-turner. It's just nice to spend time with pleasant people leading pleasant lives.
World Without End: Spain, Philip II, and the First Global Empire by Hugh Thomas. A nonfiction book, the third in a trilogy about the Spanish Empire. This one focuses on the time period of King Philip's reign (1527-1598), though it's more concerned with the country's new colonies than anything happening in Philip's court itself. The book is organized by place: we've got New Spain (modern Mexico and the surrounding areas), Peru (the former Incan empire, more or less), newly conquered areas of South America (Chile, Paraguay, Guyana, etc) and the Philippines.
Argh, this book. This fucking book. First of all, it took me over two weeks to read – and it's not that long, about 400 pages – which no book has done to me since... I don't even know when. It's been years at least. It's so unbelievably boring that every page was like trudging through thick mud. And since I spend a significant portion of my time reading articles from academic journals or PhD theses, when I say something is boring, it's not because I'm unfamiliar with the conventions of the genre. Another reviewer compared it to a "locally produced county history", and that is the perfect description. Endless lists of names, characterized only by the town they were born in, who they were relatives of, and the dates they served in various government posts? Got that. Long accounts of debates over tax rates or how to classify property? Yup. Analysis or insightful connection-making? None.
But more important than its mind-numbing lifelessness, World Without End is shockingly racist. I'll share just a few of the quotes I highlighted while reading:
Each subdivision had its particular name: thus the children of blacks and whites were mulattos, a useful designation which nobody seems to employ in our morally opaque twenty-first century.
Of course, the friars knew that vestigial idolatry continued, but such offenses were punished with nothing more serious than the occasional whipping.
(Ah, yes, the 'nothing serious' of being whipped for trying to practice your own religion)
Many slaves seemed at that time to prefer white masters to their indigenous black ones. Most slaves were bought as such, having been enslaved in Africa.
(HOW WOULD YOU EVEN KNOW THAT FIRST CLAIM. What the hell sort of historical record is he using here? This line is, of course, not footnoted.)
(In which Thomas endorses a ridiculous Spanish claim that it was going to conquer all of China using only 12 ships:)
Had it been approved, it would have amounted to the grand climax of a hundred years of Spanish conquests and struggles. Had it happened, it would surely have brought less deprivation to China than occurred under the Manchu dynasty and certainly less than under the terrible communist era of the twentieth century.
But don't worry! Thomas does not restrain his bigotry to non-white races. He's got plenty of condescension for women too. He barely mentions them throughout the book, which – fine. It's a history of conquistadors. He could have made more of an effort, but I understand that he's working from a limited source. But every women that does get mentioned is "beautiful". I AM SO NOT KIDDING:
The new queen, still only fourteen years old, had a dark and Italian complexion, recalling her Medici forbears. She was vivacious and attractive (pg 27)
Philip's mother was the beautiful, strong-minded and unbending Empress Isabel (pg 28)
His famously one-eyed yet beautiful wife, Ana (pg 43)
She was born in 1586 and the Indian maid who looked after her in her cot as a baby saw that she had two beautifully formed roses on her cheeks. (pg 148)
The delightful conquistadora Mencia de Nidos, a woman as beautiful as she was brave (pg 153)
Ursua's beautiful mestiza mistress, Ines de Atienza. She was renowned in the 1550s as 'the most beautiful woman in Peru' (pg 212 - a two for one! )
Unfortunately the prior's mother was a beautiful conversa, Violante Gomes (pg 231)
The tale of the beautiful gallega Isabel de Barreto (pg 327)
Another daughter of Montezuma, the apparently beautiful Techuipo (pg 333)
(By the way, I gathered these by running a search on the text for 'she', and can report that both 'sheep' and metaphorical shes – countries and boats, mostly – far outnumber actual women.)
Thomas also spends multiple chapters eulogizing the work of friars, priests, and missionaries: the buildings they constructed, the books they wrote, the languages they learned, the numbers they converted, etc etc. In their turn, the work of nuns get this one paragraph out of the entire book:
The nuns included brillant cooks. They made pretty dresses for the ever-present images of the Virgin. They chanted charming cradle songs and were, from time to time, allowed to swoon in amorous ecstasy.
I could go on, but I think y'all get the point. But I do want to share one more quote: the final paragraph of the entire book, which I feel really puts a cap on all the crazy shit that came beforehand.
The Spanish empire lasted three centuries, from the early sixteenth to the early nineteenth century. Its last remnants only fell in 1898, following the Spanish-American war in Cuba, over 400 years after Columbus had embarked for the Caribbean. Spain had left behind a Catholic religion and innumerable monuments, a tradition and much literature. Above all, it had created dependencies which matured successfully into the new independent countries of Latin America. Wars in this region are rare. In comparison with the rest of the world, Latin America now seems an oasis of peace.
If I could give World Without End less than one star, I absolutely would. I want to give it negative stars.
I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
What are you currently reading?
Barbary Station by R.E. Stearns. Lesbian space pirates! :D I am astonished none of you mentioned this when I was asking for space opera recs last month; it is like this book was designed for me.
no subject
Date: 2018-01-31 11:59 pm (UTC)Ha, yeah! I've been surprised by the intensity of some people's feelings. I suppose that's a bit inevitably when it's a passionately loved series that abruptly goes for a different tone and relationship style.