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What I've Finished Reading

I barely finished Lilith's Brood in time for book club last week! I can recommend it highly if you want to start a lively discussion about consent or biological determinism, or if you just want to make a lot of jokes about tentacles. As a book it was a little talky, especially once we get into the later generations and everyone is constantly explaining Oankali mating rituals to everyone else, but always interesting and disturbing.

By far my favorite part of Blood Heir was the five-page "Acknowledgements" at the end, which might not include literally everyone Amelie Wen Zhao ever took a workshop with and every one of their inside jokes, but certainly strives to create an impression of comprehensiveness. Everyone gets a personalized message about how much they helped and how much she loves them. This is too much, but it's heartfelt and lovably embarrassing, like the love-from-mom-and-dad ads in high school theater programs. The novel itself is made of cliches, in something close to its original meaning of a ready-made printer's block that saves the compositor the trouble of making up common phrases from scratch. Even within the book, the fugitive princess and her redemption-seeking criminal companion make a dramatic plunge into cold water three separate times. I'm not opposed to cliches at all, but for whatever reason the collage of them didn't work for me here.

I expected to still be reading A Visit from the Goon Squad by now, but it was one of those books that you pick up intending to read a chapter or two and finish late the same night, not because of suspense or unanswered questions, but simply because it's easier and more pleasant to keep going. Now that I'm no longer reading it, I'm not sure how I feel about it, but it must have been good or I wouldn't have read it all at once, right? There were some chapters I loved - the slideshow diary was a standalone standout - and some that I didn't. I don't know why I was completely unable to believe or tolerate the genocidal dictator PR business, but I was.

What I'm Reading Now

The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker! This first-person Iliad retelling by Briseis is fantastic so far. The only other thing I've read by Barker is Regeneration and its sequels, and her narration is just as casually, uncomfortably at home in this more distant past.

I'll probably end up sympathizing with T Kira Madden's memoir Long Live the Tribe of Fatherless Girls more than I love it, but it's too early to tell.


What I'm Not Completely Sure How to Get Rid Of

I skimmed my way to the end of The Library of the World's Best Literature, and now the problem is finding it a new home. I've had a lot of success mailing various things to people through Freecycle.org, but the Library is too heavy to mail, and too heavy to carry anywhere without a car. There's a used bookstore within a couple hours of here that would probably take it, but having worked in a used bookstore, I don't really want to burden them. I feel like its best home would be either with someone who cuts up books for art projects, or else with some weirdo like my dad (and me, as it turns out) who likes to keep a few out-of-date encyclopedias around for entertainment purposes - someone who would use it, one way or another. But I can't be too picky with an incredibly heavy 26-volume incomplete set that I don't actually have room for.

What I Plan to Read Next

There's only one book and it's Ancient Evenings by Norman Mailer, last of the 99. I put it off over the weekend so I could finish some other things, but the time has come at last.
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What I've Finished Reading

Breaking and Entering by Joy Williams is a novel that feels more like a short story that got long, maybe because there's a helpless passenger-side quality to all its events, and because it's more about the feeling of standing around in Florida while birds die in your line of sight than it is about one thing leading to another. But also maybe just because it's shorter and more opaque than some of the other novels I've been reading. It's about a couple of drifters, teenage lovers grown up badly, who break into rich people's houses while their owners are away. One of them, Willie, likes to leave little piles of his own hair in the middle of coffee tables or beds, as a calling card. One day the owner is home after all, and everything crumbles under a barrage of weird-ass arthouse monologues and violence, but in much slower motion than you may be imagining.

What I'm Reading Now

My great new friend William Dean Howells is never more of his time than when he's frowning sadly about the "streams of filth" that have been running through the entire history of human literature prior to the nineteenth century, and optimistically speculating that as "the animal" is more and more subordinated to the moral in man, new work will get purer and purer, and bowlderized popular editions of randy old classics will become the undisputed norm. Will, you absolute sweetheart, I'm not even a little bit sorry that this dream never became a reality, but if you want to rant about how fart jokes aren't funny for up to ten minutes at a time, I'm here for you.

The chapters of My Literary Passions are devoted each to a different writer or group of writers, with an occassional "Non-Literary Episode" or "Various Preferences." Some of the authors are very familiar, some I know only because LM Montgomery read them at some point, and some are totally obscure to me. Have you heard of Ik Marvel, "the gentle and kindly Ik Marvel, whose Reveries of a Bachelor and whose Dream Life the young people of that day were reading with a tender rapture which will not be altogether surprising, I dare say, to the young people of this"? I had not.

I dare say I should find their pose now a little old-fashioned. I believe it was rather full of sighs, and shrugs, and starts, expressed in dashes, and asterisks, and exclamations, but I am sure that the feeling was the genuine and manly sort which is of all times and always the latest wear.


Speaking of passions, Andrew Lang's defense of Walter Scott in the Library is so passionate that I'll probably end up trying to read Walter Scott again. This has happened at least five times with five different Scott fans and it never works out for me. But I'm slightly different each time, so you never know.

I'm also still reading Lilith's Brood, which has only gotten more lecture-dense since the humans split into sterile "resister" and conditonally fertile "Trader" groups in their carefully recreated rainforest on the refurbished (but still doomed, it turns out) Earth. Still good, but a little less viscerally upsetting and a little more traditionally philisophical - in spite of the tentacles having thoroughly pervaded everyone's business.

And Blood Heir, a YA fantasy that answers the age-old question, "What if we did Anastasia, only with spooky blood-bending powers instead of the hemophilia gene, and set it in a cunningly disguised Fantasy Not Russia so that no one nags us about blah blah real people history?" I love this idea, and the fact that the Fantasy Not Russia is called "The Cyrilian Empire" and is chock full of apostrophes, and I like the parts of the worldbuilding that are the most obviously based on big gold-highlighted fairy-tale illustrations (snow-covered birch forests full of silvery shadows and sleek carnivores), but so far I haven't had much luck with the plot or the characters, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just the "YA style" I keep hearing about.

What I Plan to Read Next

The Rebel Angels is the second-to-last book in the 99 Novels. When I finish the 99, I've got a memoir by Anthony Burgess to read. Beyond that and some work stuff, I don't know! "Randomness from my bookshelves" would be the most responsible answer, as I'm still trying to clear off some space for non-books on the shelves. But I'm also tempted to try one of my buddy William Dean Howell's morally sound modern novels. He wrote a lot!

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