Personal news, reading
Aug. 16th, 2018 11:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brigdhSo, in exciting news: I fractured my ankle last week after I was enticed to try ice skating for the first time since childhood. It's fairly badly broken – my only means of locomotion is straight-up hopping with crutches, since I can't put any weight on my right foot at all and have to keep it raised off the floor – but on the other hand, I don't need surgery for it, so, there are positives.
You would think all of the enforced extra sitting and going-nowhere this has led to means I should be getting a lot more reading and writing done, but actually I've been in a grumpy mood and mostly going for mindless entertainment like youtube videos and phone games. Nonetheless, I have read a few things since the last time I posted! Here they are:
What did you just finish?
Never Home Alone: From Microbes to Millipedes, Camel Crickets, and Honeybees, the Natural History of Where We Live by Rob Dunn. A nonfiction book about the various things that live in human houses, from bacteria and fungi on up. You would assume – certainly I assumed – that we already know what lives in our houses; that surely the creatures we come into contact with every day have been thoroughly studied. Dunn points out that, actually, every scientist has assumed the same thing since shortly after the invention of the microscope, and thus we know less about our daily companions than we do about what's hiding in the leaf litter of rainforest in Costa Rica. As an example, just a few years ago a new species of frog was discovered living in NYC – and if you know anything about biology, you know how rare it is for new vertebrate species to be discovered, much less new species in one of the most densely populated areas in the USA.
Dunn is himself a scientist who has been working to correct this, by studying human homes as a type of important and widespread habitat. He's led or participated in projects looking at topics as varied as microbes adapted to live in hot water heaters, the biofilm of bacteria in shower heads (yup, sorry, every time you shower you're dosing yourself with bacteria, though possibly some of them have a serotonin-boosting effect), camel crickets in basements and the bacteria in their guts, black mold in drywall, cockroach evolution (did you know German cockroaches – the main species who bother humans – no longer have any wild populations, anywhere in the world, but only live in human habitations?), bacteria in babies' noses, and the various fungi and microbes infesting the International Space Station, mostly carried there on astronauts' skin or in their guts.
But if you're feeling the urge to immediately douse yourself in bleach, don't. Dunn repeatedly makes the point that the vast majority of biodiversity around us is harmless, and cleaning it away may be doing us more damage than leaving it alone. Whether it's an uptick in rates of allergies and asthma as children are no longer exposed to potential triggers, or that the lack of predators and competitors gives the few actually dangerous pathogens (such as those cockroaches, not to mention antibiotic-resistant Staph) an advantage, all those gross-sounding but innocuous microbes around us are playing an important role.
It's not a perfect book; I particularly was disappointed that Dunn spends a whole chapter on Toxoplasma gondii (the parasite that spreads through cat feces and triggers risky behavior in rats and mice, making them more likely to be eaten), since I think anyone with an interest in 'weird biology' is probably already very familiar with it. But despite that, I really enjoyed Never Home Alone, and would highly recommend to any other weird biology fans.
I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
Persepolis Rising by James S.A. Corey. Book #7 in The Expanse series, and the last of them to be published, so I'm all caught up now – unless I read the various short stories, which I haven't made up my mind about yet.
Persepolis Rising starts off with a thirty year time jump since the last book, but no one has died of old age, which I found a bit of a cheat, given that none of the main characters were particularly young to begin with. Yeah, I know there's an offhand mention of anti-aging drugs, but seriously, I'm pretty sure Alex and Amos have got to be at least in their 70s at this point, and Naomi and Jim in their 60s, and they're all still having dramatic physical adventures? Not that I wanted anyone to die, but it did disrupt my suspension of disbelief a little.
Anyway, the plot: after the events of Babylon's Ashes, things have settled down and humanity has actually had a few peaceful, stable decades. Unfortunately, while most people have just been getting on with their lives, the rogue segment of the Martian army that disappeared in the chaos of the last war has been lying in wait, building up their strength, and working on a plot to conquer all of humanity. Their leader is certain that this empire, unlike every other one in human history, will actually be good for its subjects and endure, because he has a secret weapon: he's made himself immortal through use of that alien protomolecule that started this whole series:
“The ironic thing?” Duarte said. “I’ve always rejected the great-man idea. The belief that human history was formed by singular individuals instead of broad social forces? Romantic, but...” He waved a hand vaguely, like he was stirring fog. “Demographic trends. Economic cycles. Technological progress. All much more powerful predictors than any one person. And yet here I am. I would take you with me if I could, you know. It’s not my choice. It’s history’s.”
“History should reconsider,” Paolo said.
Duarte chuckled. “The difference between zero and one is miraculous. But it’s as miraculous as it ever will be. Make it two. Three. A hundred. It becomes just another oligarchy. A permanent engine of inequality that will breed the wars we’re trying to end.”
Paolo made a small sound that could have been mistaken for agreement.
“The best governments in history have been kings and emperors,” Duarte said. “The worst ones too. A philosopher-king can manage great things in his lifetime. And his grandchildren can squander it.”
Duarte grunted as Paolo pulled the hypodermic port out of his arm. He didn’t need to place a bandage over the wound. The hole closed up before a drop of blood could escape. It didn’t even scab.
“If you want to create a lasting, stable social order,” Duarte said, “only one person can ever be immortal.”
The structure of the book has reverted back to only four POVs, which is a fantastic idea after the excessive mess of POVs in Babylon's Ashes. Here we have, once again, James Holden; Bobbie Draper, tough ex-Martian Marine, a kickass six-foot-tall Samoan woman and previous POV, now a member of Holden's crew and set to take over as captain when he retires; Camina Drummer, newly elected President of the Transport Union, which puts her at the head of the largest military force in our own original solar system, and thus the leader of the fight against the rogue Martians once they reappear; and Santiago Jilie Singh, a young up-and-coming member of the rogue Martian forces, who's given administrative control of Medina Station, the first bit of occupied territory. He's insecure and overreacts to the inevitable protests and sabotages of a conquered people, and the tension between him and the quickly-forming insurgency drives most of the plot of the book.
Persepolis Rising is a more somber book than previous ones in the series. It becomes clear early on that no one can possibly hope to face the rogue Martians head-on militarily and win, so it becomes a matter of choosing when to hide and when to survive, what to sacrifice and what to preserve. There's even a major character death! Which was shocking to me, because I'd long since put these books down as the sort where all the good guys had invulnerable hero armor. It's a great turn for the series, and I'm just disappointed that I have to wait till December for the next one to be published.
The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker. A retelling of the Trojan War from the perspective of Briseis (minor Trojan queen, taken as a war prize and given to Achilles as a slave, then claimed by Agamemnon), and given a radical, feminist spin by focusing on the silenced woman and servants.
This book should have been amazing. I mean, how do you look at that description and not want to immediately read it? Unfortunately, it's nothing but a disappointment. The prose is just... not good. It's shallow and adolescent, with a frequent reliance on poor word choices that feel like a rushed first draft (Once or twice, Tecmessa really annoyed me with well-meant but irritating advice on how to make the best of things.)(That’s the other thing I remember: the rats. Rats everywhere. You could be walking along the path between two rows of huts and suddenly the ground ahead of you would get up and walk—oh, yes, as bad as that!)(I lost myself in that work—and I found myself too. I was learning so much, from Ritsa, but also from Machaon who, once he realized I was interested and already had a little knowledge and skill, was generous with his time. I really started to think: I can do this.). I suppose none of this sounds particularly bad out of context, but two hundred pages of such middling, do-nothing prose and I was bored out of my mind.
Everyone's characterization is flat and indistinguishable, which is particularly sad because The Iliad gives one such specific types to work with and yet Barker still couldn't make anyone feel memorable. As one example, Odysseus isn't remotely clever. Make him evil, sure, make him uncaring or arrogant or cruel, but what's the point of an Odysseus who isn't clever?
But the thing that most annoyed me was that Barker hasn't made the story new in any way. Sure, Briseis is now the narrator, but she has no plot of her own, no relationships, no cares, no desires, no actions that depart from the original. The climax is still Patroclus's death and Achilles's grief; in fact, the book increasingly departs from Briseis's first-person narration to third-person-limited focused on Achilles (or occasionally Patroclus) until by Part Two she only gets half the chapters. How are you writing a feminist reclamation if you're using the exact same events and giving them the same emotional weight and even the same male perspective?
I think Barker is vaguely aware of this problem herself, because we do get this passage near the end of the book:
Looking back, it seemed to me I’d been trying to escape not just from the camp, but from Achilles’s story; and I’d failed. Because, make no mistake, this was his story—his anger, his grief, his story. I was angry, I was grieving, but somehow that didn’t matter. Here I was, again, waiting for Achilles to decide when it was time for bed, still trapped, still stuck inside his story, and yet with no real part to play in it.
But for all this half-paragraph of protest, Barker's the one who chose to write the book this way.
To be fair, I didn't entirely hate it. There are moments that work, like this one, a favorite of mine:
Like everybody else, I’d been shaken by the sudden appearance of Priam in Achilles’s hall. I’d felt blank and at the same time abnormally attentive. I could still hear him pleading with Achilles, begging him to remember his own father—and then the silence, as he bent his head and kissed Achilles’s hands.
I do what no man before me has ever done, I kiss the hands of the man who killed my son.
Those words echoed round me, as I stood in the storage hut, surrounded on all sides by the wealth Achilles had plundered from burning cities. I thought: And I do what countless women before me have been forced to do. I spread my legs for the man who killed my husband and my brothers.
But what good does exist is frequently undercut by later developments. Take this, the opening lines of the book:
Great Achilles. Brilliant Achilles, shining Achilles, godlike Achilles . . . How the epithets pile up. We never called him any of those things; we called him “the butcher.”
It may not surprise you when I say no one, and certainly not Briseis, ever calls Achilles a butcher in the actual book. We do, however, get plenty of praise for him from Briseis's perspective, from calling him "the most beautiful man alive" to admiring descriptions of his loneliness, his skillfulness, his musical abilities, his healing powers, his tenderness for his men, etc. There's also the fact that Achilles's relationship with his mother is depicted as bizzarely incestous, which uh, I suppose Barker has finally come up with a new twist on the Iliad with that choice. I'm not sure why, though.
In short: UGH. So much potential, and yet so little worthwhile accomplished.
I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
What are you currently reading?
Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan. With all the buzz about the movie coming out this weekend, I wanted to read the book first.
You would think all of the enforced extra sitting and going-nowhere this has led to means I should be getting a lot more reading and writing done, but actually I've been in a grumpy mood and mostly going for mindless entertainment like youtube videos and phone games. Nonetheless, I have read a few things since the last time I posted! Here they are:
What did you just finish?
Never Home Alone: From Microbes to Millipedes, Camel Crickets, and Honeybees, the Natural History of Where We Live by Rob Dunn. A nonfiction book about the various things that live in human houses, from bacteria and fungi on up. You would assume – certainly I assumed – that we already know what lives in our houses; that surely the creatures we come into contact with every day have been thoroughly studied. Dunn points out that, actually, every scientist has assumed the same thing since shortly after the invention of the microscope, and thus we know less about our daily companions than we do about what's hiding in the leaf litter of rainforest in Costa Rica. As an example, just a few years ago a new species of frog was discovered living in NYC – and if you know anything about biology, you know how rare it is for new vertebrate species to be discovered, much less new species in one of the most densely populated areas in the USA.
Dunn is himself a scientist who has been working to correct this, by studying human homes as a type of important and widespread habitat. He's led or participated in projects looking at topics as varied as microbes adapted to live in hot water heaters, the biofilm of bacteria in shower heads (yup, sorry, every time you shower you're dosing yourself with bacteria, though possibly some of them have a serotonin-boosting effect), camel crickets in basements and the bacteria in their guts, black mold in drywall, cockroach evolution (did you know German cockroaches – the main species who bother humans – no longer have any wild populations, anywhere in the world, but only live in human habitations?), bacteria in babies' noses, and the various fungi and microbes infesting the International Space Station, mostly carried there on astronauts' skin or in their guts.
But if you're feeling the urge to immediately douse yourself in bleach, don't. Dunn repeatedly makes the point that the vast majority of biodiversity around us is harmless, and cleaning it away may be doing us more damage than leaving it alone. Whether it's an uptick in rates of allergies and asthma as children are no longer exposed to potential triggers, or that the lack of predators and competitors gives the few actually dangerous pathogens (such as those cockroaches, not to mention antibiotic-resistant Staph) an advantage, all those gross-sounding but innocuous microbes around us are playing an important role.
It's not a perfect book; I particularly was disappointed that Dunn spends a whole chapter on Toxoplasma gondii (the parasite that spreads through cat feces and triggers risky behavior in rats and mice, making them more likely to be eaten), since I think anyone with an interest in 'weird biology' is probably already very familiar with it. But despite that, I really enjoyed Never Home Alone, and would highly recommend to any other weird biology fans.
I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
Persepolis Rising by James S.A. Corey. Book #7 in The Expanse series, and the last of them to be published, so I'm all caught up now – unless I read the various short stories, which I haven't made up my mind about yet.
Persepolis Rising starts off with a thirty year time jump since the last book, but no one has died of old age, which I found a bit of a cheat, given that none of the main characters were particularly young to begin with. Yeah, I know there's an offhand mention of anti-aging drugs, but seriously, I'm pretty sure Alex and Amos have got to be at least in their 70s at this point, and Naomi and Jim in their 60s, and they're all still having dramatic physical adventures? Not that I wanted anyone to die, but it did disrupt my suspension of disbelief a little.
Anyway, the plot: after the events of Babylon's Ashes, things have settled down and humanity has actually had a few peaceful, stable decades. Unfortunately, while most people have just been getting on with their lives, the rogue segment of the Martian army that disappeared in the chaos of the last war has been lying in wait, building up their strength, and working on a plot to conquer all of humanity. Their leader is certain that this empire, unlike every other one in human history, will actually be good for its subjects and endure, because he has a secret weapon: he's made himself immortal through use of that alien protomolecule that started this whole series:
“The ironic thing?” Duarte said. “I’ve always rejected the great-man idea. The belief that human history was formed by singular individuals instead of broad social forces? Romantic, but...” He waved a hand vaguely, like he was stirring fog. “Demographic trends. Economic cycles. Technological progress. All much more powerful predictors than any one person. And yet here I am. I would take you with me if I could, you know. It’s not my choice. It’s history’s.”
“History should reconsider,” Paolo said.
Duarte chuckled. “The difference between zero and one is miraculous. But it’s as miraculous as it ever will be. Make it two. Three. A hundred. It becomes just another oligarchy. A permanent engine of inequality that will breed the wars we’re trying to end.”
Paolo made a small sound that could have been mistaken for agreement.
“The best governments in history have been kings and emperors,” Duarte said. “The worst ones too. A philosopher-king can manage great things in his lifetime. And his grandchildren can squander it.”
Duarte grunted as Paolo pulled the hypodermic port out of his arm. He didn’t need to place a bandage over the wound. The hole closed up before a drop of blood could escape. It didn’t even scab.
“If you want to create a lasting, stable social order,” Duarte said, “only one person can ever be immortal.”
The structure of the book has reverted back to only four POVs, which is a fantastic idea after the excessive mess of POVs in Babylon's Ashes. Here we have, once again, James Holden; Bobbie Draper, tough ex-Martian Marine, a kickass six-foot-tall Samoan woman and previous POV, now a member of Holden's crew and set to take over as captain when he retires; Camina Drummer, newly elected President of the Transport Union, which puts her at the head of the largest military force in our own original solar system, and thus the leader of the fight against the rogue Martians once they reappear; and Santiago Jilie Singh, a young up-and-coming member of the rogue Martian forces, who's given administrative control of Medina Station, the first bit of occupied territory. He's insecure and overreacts to the inevitable protests and sabotages of a conquered people, and the tension between him and the quickly-forming insurgency drives most of the plot of the book.
Persepolis Rising is a more somber book than previous ones in the series. It becomes clear early on that no one can possibly hope to face the rogue Martians head-on militarily and win, so it becomes a matter of choosing when to hide and when to survive, what to sacrifice and what to preserve. There's even a major character death! Which was shocking to me, because I'd long since put these books down as the sort where all the good guys had invulnerable hero armor. It's a great turn for the series, and I'm just disappointed that I have to wait till December for the next one to be published.
The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker. A retelling of the Trojan War from the perspective of Briseis (minor Trojan queen, taken as a war prize and given to Achilles as a slave, then claimed by Agamemnon), and given a radical, feminist spin by focusing on the silenced woman and servants.
This book should have been amazing. I mean, how do you look at that description and not want to immediately read it? Unfortunately, it's nothing but a disappointment. The prose is just... not good. It's shallow and adolescent, with a frequent reliance on poor word choices that feel like a rushed first draft (Once or twice, Tecmessa really annoyed me with well-meant but irritating advice on how to make the best of things.)(That’s the other thing I remember: the rats. Rats everywhere. You could be walking along the path between two rows of huts and suddenly the ground ahead of you would get up and walk—oh, yes, as bad as that!)(I lost myself in that work—and I found myself too. I was learning so much, from Ritsa, but also from Machaon who, once he realized I was interested and already had a little knowledge and skill, was generous with his time. I really started to think: I can do this.). I suppose none of this sounds particularly bad out of context, but two hundred pages of such middling, do-nothing prose and I was bored out of my mind.
Everyone's characterization is flat and indistinguishable, which is particularly sad because The Iliad gives one such specific types to work with and yet Barker still couldn't make anyone feel memorable. As one example, Odysseus isn't remotely clever. Make him evil, sure, make him uncaring or arrogant or cruel, but what's the point of an Odysseus who isn't clever?
But the thing that most annoyed me was that Barker hasn't made the story new in any way. Sure, Briseis is now the narrator, but she has no plot of her own, no relationships, no cares, no desires, no actions that depart from the original. The climax is still Patroclus's death and Achilles's grief; in fact, the book increasingly departs from Briseis's first-person narration to third-person-limited focused on Achilles (or occasionally Patroclus) until by Part Two she only gets half the chapters. How are you writing a feminist reclamation if you're using the exact same events and giving them the same emotional weight and even the same male perspective?
I think Barker is vaguely aware of this problem herself, because we do get this passage near the end of the book:
Looking back, it seemed to me I’d been trying to escape not just from the camp, but from Achilles’s story; and I’d failed. Because, make no mistake, this was his story—his anger, his grief, his story. I was angry, I was grieving, but somehow that didn’t matter. Here I was, again, waiting for Achilles to decide when it was time for bed, still trapped, still stuck inside his story, and yet with no real part to play in it.
But for all this half-paragraph of protest, Barker's the one who chose to write the book this way.
To be fair, I didn't entirely hate it. There are moments that work, like this one, a favorite of mine:
Like everybody else, I’d been shaken by the sudden appearance of Priam in Achilles’s hall. I’d felt blank and at the same time abnormally attentive. I could still hear him pleading with Achilles, begging him to remember his own father—and then the silence, as he bent his head and kissed Achilles’s hands.
I do what no man before me has ever done, I kiss the hands of the man who killed my son.
Those words echoed round me, as I stood in the storage hut, surrounded on all sides by the wealth Achilles had plundered from burning cities. I thought: And I do what countless women before me have been forced to do. I spread my legs for the man who killed my husband and my brothers.
But what good does exist is frequently undercut by later developments. Take this, the opening lines of the book:
Great Achilles. Brilliant Achilles, shining Achilles, godlike Achilles . . . How the epithets pile up. We never called him any of those things; we called him “the butcher.”
It may not surprise you when I say no one, and certainly not Briseis, ever calls Achilles a butcher in the actual book. We do, however, get plenty of praise for him from Briseis's perspective, from calling him "the most beautiful man alive" to admiring descriptions of his loneliness, his skillfulness, his musical abilities, his healing powers, his tenderness for his men, etc. There's also the fact that Achilles's relationship with his mother is depicted as bizzarely incestous, which uh, I suppose Barker has finally come up with a new twist on the Iliad with that choice. I'm not sure why, though.
In short: UGH. So much potential, and yet so little worthwhile accomplished.
I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
What are you currently reading?
Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan. With all the buzz about the movie coming out this weekend, I wanted to read the book first.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-16 09:48 pm (UTC)I did not know that and I think that's wonderful.
In short: UGH. So much potential, and yet so little worthwhile accomplished.
That is especially disappointing because (a) the waste of the Iliad (b) I love Pat Barker's Regeneration trilogy; it would not have occurred to me that she would screw up a war story.
[edit] I published a poem in 2005 called "Not the Song of Briseis," but it's not online or even collected or I would link to it. It was my desire not to write exactly that sort of book.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-16 10:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-08-16 10:28 pm (UTC)Mythic Delirium #13, December 2005. Which I see just now is sold out. Hmm.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-16 11:00 pm (UTC)Oh, well, now I have something to hunt down, I guess. . .
no subject
Date: 2018-08-22 03:36 am (UTC)And he's such a big frog in the photo! You'd think someone would have noticed him before.
b) I love Pat Barker's Regeneration trilogy; it would not have occurred to me that she would screw up a war story.
I've just this instant realized that I mixed up Pat Barker and Pat Cadigan; this is the first time I've read Barker, though I've heard good things about the Regeneration trilogy. I'd been thinking this book was written by Cadigan, who I have read before, and so all my expectations were based on her. Although a cyberpunk Iliad would also be an amazing idea.
I published a poem in 2005 called "Not the Song of Briseis," but it's not online or even collected or I would link to it
Oh, I'm very sorry for that. I'd really love to read it.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-22 06:28 am (UTC)I recommend all three books highly and they do not have the prose problem of The Silence of the Girls, which is another confusing thing about the novel. She's really precise about all the people in those books. I know writers can have more than one register, but one of them doesn't have to be bland.
The other thing about this project is that there is a very high bar for writing about the women of Troy, and it's Euripides' The Trojan Women. Which was written by a man in the fifth century BCE but it's devastating and still performed for very good reasons; I've read it in the original and seen both a straight translation and a reworking and it hits every time. The point is not that people shouldn't retell the story. (I wrote a story out of the first version of The Trojan Women I saw. It's in Postcards from the Province of Hyphens. That's the effect it had on me.) The point is that the retelling should not leave people feeling as though they should maybe just have re-read Euripides, and your writeup of this book already makes me want to.
Have you read Le Guin's Lavinia (2008)? Similar aim with the Aeneid, actually worked there.
Although a cyberpunk Iliad would also be an amazing idea.
Agreed. (Has it not already happened?)
Oh, I'm very sorry for that. I'd really love to read it.
Let me see what I can figure out.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-16 10:25 pm (UTC)Well, when I read those words, I said "Holy shit!" out loud, so I may get inexorably drawn toward this book in spite of your warning. . . I have a gigantic novel called Helen of Troy sitting on my floor right now, because I just can't walk away.
Everyone's characterization is flat and indistinguishable, which is particularly sad because The Iliad
Seriously, though. You couldn't ask for better source material. >:(
no subject
Date: 2018-08-22 03:09 am (UTC)I understand the temptation! Certainly as soon as I heard about it I immediately acquired a copy, without bothering to check reviews or other warning signs. And perhaps it'll work better for you than it did for me? Certainly goodreads has quite a lot of positive reviews.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-20 06:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-08-21 04:01 am (UTC)