Reading very nearly Wednesday
Apr. 10th, 2019 04:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brigdhThe Edge of Anarchy: The Railroad Barons, the Gilded Age, and the Greatest Labor Uprising in America by Jack Kelly. Nonfiction about the boycott of Pullman sleeping railroad cars in 1894, led by Eugene V. Debs and suppressed by President Cleveland, his attorney general Richard Olney, and General Nelson Miles. The strike – which started with workers in the factories who built Pullman's cars, spread to all employees of all railroads carrying the cars, and nearly became a nationwide general strike (ie, involving members of all unions, regardless of their line of work, from grocers to butchers to brewers) – at its height involved 250,000 people and ended with over fifty deaths, mostly caused by railword agents or federal soldiers. Although the strike ultimately failed, it can be seen as a tipping point between the railroad barons of the Gilded Age and the attempts at social reform of the Progressive Era.
Many famous figures make appearances in The Edge of Anarchy, from Jane Addams to Andrew Carnegie, as well as events of the day, including Chicago's Columbian Exposition (of The Devil in the White City fame), Lizzie Borden's trial, the economic depression of 1893, mine strikes in 1894, and the assassination of French president Carnot. But ultimately the focus is on the opposing figures of Debs and George Pullman himself, union leader versus businessman, the one who lost this battle but ended up as a major political force against the one who won this time but found himself losing subsequent legal cases, alienated from even other business tycoons, and dying soon afterwards.
I do have to say that The Edge of Anarchy isn't quite as good as Kelly's previous book, Heaven's Ditch (which remains the best nonfiction I've read in some time), though that's mostly because Kelly has chosen to work with a less batshit wild story this time. I also wish Kelly had paid more attention to how race influenced the Pullman Strike. African Americans, though not allowed to work in Pullman's factories, were important employees of the sleeping cars once they were on the railroads, yet were not allowed to join the American Railway Union. Kelly does acknowledge these facts, but I felt they should have been central to the story rather than isolated to one or two chapters.
Nonetheless, The Edge of Anarchy does make for perfect reading at our particular moment in time, when we seem to be in a new Gilded Age of unregulated business practices and presidential candidates can once again actually call themselves socialists. It's always nice to be reminded that socialism in fact has a long and influential history within the US.
I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie. The first fantasy novel by Leckie (whose sci-fi books I am an enormous fan of), and a standalone, which I deeply appreciate in these days of ubiquitous trilogies and unending series.
The kingdom of Iraden is ruled not by a king but by the Raven's Lease – an individual sworn to the Raven god. During the lifetime of the single mortal raven that the god is bound to, the Raven's Lease can wish for almost anything and receive it, rules the kingdom with power only barely limited by his advisors, and is honored by all inhabitants. But of course there's a cost: once that mortal raven dies, the Lease must immediately kill himself. This is where the god's power all comes from, because there's nothing more potent than human sacrifice, especially one given willingly.
However, stories are about when things go wrong. And indeed when the novel opens the latest raven has, in the course of time, died and the latest Raven's Lease has not. Exactly what he has done is unknown – he's simply disappeared from the capital, though the god makes it clear that a debt is still due. The Lease's heir was away at the time, and returns several days later to find his uncle has replaced him as Lease. The uncle argues that there wasn't time to wait for the heir to return; the heir suspects that something is rotten in the state of Iraden. But neither is the main character. That's Eolo - aide to the heir, new to the capital city, and son of an ignorant farmer. Eolo's introduction to the tangled court politics and intimate relationships among the elite is the reader's introduction as well. Eolo is a transman, but this is barely mentioned (two brief conversations are the only places where it even comes up) and is not relevant to the plot at all. Which is great! It's wonderful to see trans characters just doing their thing, leading stories that don't have to be centered on transness.
The most distinctive thing about The Raven Tower is that it's told in second person, narrating the events after the fact to Eolo himself:
“And you turned fully to stare at your hand against the wall, and then down at your feet, feeling that constant, faint, grinding vibration traveling through the yellowish stones. Could you hear me, Eolo? Can you hear me now? I’m talking to you.”
The speaker is a god – though which god and why is one of the central mysteries of the novel. We are also told of the god's origins and backstory, moving through the evolution of fish and the shifting of continents, even out into the sight of earth itself from a comet orbiting in space. The god's long history and Eolo's few short days in the capital come together with a bang by the climax.
The Raven Tower is definitely a page-turner. Despite its length, I raced through it in a few days. For a novel about gods, it's also fascinatingly amoral. Questions of right or wrong simply never come up; instead it's all a matter of debts and promises and broken vows. If you pray to a god, they might grant your wish in return for the power your prayers have given them. If you want something in particular, get a god to promise you it in exchange for a specific offering of equal effectiveness. Consequences may be a very long time in coming, but sooner or later they must arrive, as sure as the laws of physics.
It's hard for me to read a fantasy novel about gods and the power of belief and not compare it to Terry Pratchett's Small Gods. Unfortunately I don't think The Raven Tower lives up to that standard. The Raven Tower is a great story, don't get me wrong. I recommend it. But I don't see myself coming back to it over and over again, and I don't think it has much to say about the human condition. Unlike even Leckie's other work! The Imperial Radch trilogy absolutely wrestled with questions of imperialism and individualism. The Raven Tower wrestles with how the rules for these particular imaginary deities function, and follows through with sharply circular conclusion. It's fun! But ultimately it's a bit forgettable. A good book, a well-written and engaging book, but one that's probably not destined to become a classic.
Many famous figures make appearances in The Edge of Anarchy, from Jane Addams to Andrew Carnegie, as well as events of the day, including Chicago's Columbian Exposition (of The Devil in the White City fame), Lizzie Borden's trial, the economic depression of 1893, mine strikes in 1894, and the assassination of French president Carnot. But ultimately the focus is on the opposing figures of Debs and George Pullman himself, union leader versus businessman, the one who lost this battle but ended up as a major political force against the one who won this time but found himself losing subsequent legal cases, alienated from even other business tycoons, and dying soon afterwards.
I do have to say that The Edge of Anarchy isn't quite as good as Kelly's previous book, Heaven's Ditch (which remains the best nonfiction I've read in some time), though that's mostly because Kelly has chosen to work with a less batshit wild story this time. I also wish Kelly had paid more attention to how race influenced the Pullman Strike. African Americans, though not allowed to work in Pullman's factories, were important employees of the sleeping cars once they were on the railroads, yet were not allowed to join the American Railway Union. Kelly does acknowledge these facts, but I felt they should have been central to the story rather than isolated to one or two chapters.
Nonetheless, The Edge of Anarchy does make for perfect reading at our particular moment in time, when we seem to be in a new Gilded Age of unregulated business practices and presidential candidates can once again actually call themselves socialists. It's always nice to be reminded that socialism in fact has a long and influential history within the US.
I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie. The first fantasy novel by Leckie (whose sci-fi books I am an enormous fan of), and a standalone, which I deeply appreciate in these days of ubiquitous trilogies and unending series.
The kingdom of Iraden is ruled not by a king but by the Raven's Lease – an individual sworn to the Raven god. During the lifetime of the single mortal raven that the god is bound to, the Raven's Lease can wish for almost anything and receive it, rules the kingdom with power only barely limited by his advisors, and is honored by all inhabitants. But of course there's a cost: once that mortal raven dies, the Lease must immediately kill himself. This is where the god's power all comes from, because there's nothing more potent than human sacrifice, especially one given willingly.
However, stories are about when things go wrong. And indeed when the novel opens the latest raven has, in the course of time, died and the latest Raven's Lease has not. Exactly what he has done is unknown – he's simply disappeared from the capital, though the god makes it clear that a debt is still due. The Lease's heir was away at the time, and returns several days later to find his uncle has replaced him as Lease. The uncle argues that there wasn't time to wait for the heir to return; the heir suspects that something is rotten in the state of Iraden. But neither is the main character. That's Eolo - aide to the heir, new to the capital city, and son of an ignorant farmer. Eolo's introduction to the tangled court politics and intimate relationships among the elite is the reader's introduction as well. Eolo is a transman, but this is barely mentioned (two brief conversations are the only places where it even comes up) and is not relevant to the plot at all. Which is great! It's wonderful to see trans characters just doing their thing, leading stories that don't have to be centered on transness.
The most distinctive thing about The Raven Tower is that it's told in second person, narrating the events after the fact to Eolo himself:
“And you turned fully to stare at your hand against the wall, and then down at your feet, feeling that constant, faint, grinding vibration traveling through the yellowish stones. Could you hear me, Eolo? Can you hear me now? I’m talking to you.”
The speaker is a god – though which god and why is one of the central mysteries of the novel. We are also told of the god's origins and backstory, moving through the evolution of fish and the shifting of continents, even out into the sight of earth itself from a comet orbiting in space. The god's long history and Eolo's few short days in the capital come together with a bang by the climax.
The Raven Tower is definitely a page-turner. Despite its length, I raced through it in a few days. For a novel about gods, it's also fascinatingly amoral. Questions of right or wrong simply never come up; instead it's all a matter of debts and promises and broken vows. If you pray to a god, they might grant your wish in return for the power your prayers have given them. If you want something in particular, get a god to promise you it in exchange for a specific offering of equal effectiveness. Consequences may be a very long time in coming, but sooner or later they must arrive, as sure as the laws of physics.
It's hard for me to read a fantasy novel about gods and the power of belief and not compare it to Terry Pratchett's Small Gods. Unfortunately I don't think The Raven Tower lives up to that standard. The Raven Tower is a great story, don't get me wrong. I recommend it. But I don't see myself coming back to it over and over again, and I don't think it has much to say about the human condition. Unlike even Leckie's other work! The Imperial Radch trilogy absolutely wrestled with questions of imperialism and individualism. The Raven Tower wrestles with how the rules for these particular imaginary deities function, and follows through with sharply circular conclusion. It's fun! But ultimately it's a bit forgettable. A good book, a well-written and engaging book, but one that's probably not destined to become a classic.
no subject
Date: 2019-04-11 06:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-12 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-11 06:47 pm (UTC)That is a neat second-person conceit and I don't think I've seen it before. (I still don't encounter second-person novels all that often. My formative one was Elizabeth E. Wein's The Winter Prince (1993), which is essentially an explanation in the form of a novel and I love it.)
Are the gods in The Raven Tower sufficiently numinous for your tastes?
no subject
Date: 2019-04-12 08:53 pm (UTC)Oh, I love The Winter Prince! Though it's been years since I read it and I'd entirely forgotten it was in second person; clearly that is an excellent reason to reread soon. I know many people are very put off by second-person, but it's never doesn't bothered me, though like you, I can think of only a few novels that use it. How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia by Mohsin Hamid is another good one. It uses the format of a self-help book to tell the rags-to-riches story of a particular individual.
Are the gods in The Raven Tower sufficiently numinous for your tastes?
Oooh, excellent question. I think so, though they occasionally dip into more mundane, human concerns. The whole absence of morality and focus on balancing worship given to prayers granted does give them a nicely inhuman calculation. Another conceit in the book is that anything a god says must be true – and if it's not already true, it will immediately become so, even if causing that change drains so much power from the god that they die. Therefore everything the gods say is extremely careful and hedged around with qualifiers – "I have heard", "it may be", "it has been said". Which does give the narration a precision and persistence that it wouldn't have in the hands of a mortal character.
no subject
Date: 2019-04-12 10:09 pm (UTC)It's first-person addressed to second-person, and when the second-person character is onstage, it's reflected in the narrative. I really like the effect.
The whole absence of morality and focus on balancing worship given to prayers granted does give them a nicely inhuman calculation.
It feels very Roman to me in description, which you don't see all that often in fiction.
Therefore everything the gods say is extremely careful and hedged around with qualifiers – "I have heard", "it may be", "it has been said". Which does give the narration a precision and persistence that it wouldn't have in the hands of a mortal character.
I like that.
no subject
Date: 2019-04-13 06:21 pm (UTC)I also loved Ancillary Justice (and mostly the next two books, though Justice is my favourite) and keep meaning to start her other books, including Provenance.