Monday, March 18, 2013

Reviewing the Mail: Week of 3/16

I have three things to tell you about this week -- three books that just might be the best thing you've ever read in your life, or (more likely) something that you'll quite enjoy and maybe even mention as decent to a friend or two -- but, before I tell you about them, I have to tell you about this:

I haven't read these books. I can give no opinion about their contents. But I can tell you what they say about themselves, and the indefinable air that each of them gives off, which is completely unnoticeable to the untrained eye. And so I begin.

Queen Victoria's Book of Spells is the latest anthology edited by the powerhouse team of Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling (sixteen annual volumes of Year's Best Fantasy & Horror; the influential series of fairy tale retellings that began with Snow White, Rose Red; a series of anthologies for the Young Adult market in recent years; not even to mention their individual achievements), which would be enough for most circumstances. But it's also an uber-steampunk anthology -- not pure steampunk, but encompassing all kinds of fantastic visions of the Victorian era, including but not limited to goggles, dirigibles, and combat parasols -- which are rather popular these days. And the nitpickers prone to criticize the gender balance of anthologies will have to find a new angle of attack, since a full fourteen of the eighteen writers or writing teams here are female. (Those eighteen include Elizabeth Bear, Tanith Lee, Delia Sherman, Jane Yolen, Catherynne M. Valente, and a few non-distaff types like Gregory Magurie, Jeffrey Ford, and James P. Blaylock.) Book of Spells is a Tor trade paperback, officially on sale this Tuesday.

Also from Tor, but not coming for another week, is the second book in the planetary adventure "Hellhole" series by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson, Hellhole Awakening. I didn't read the first one, but I can tell you that there's an exiled rebel general named Adolphus, a ruler called Diadem Michelle Duchenet, a Deep Zone, something called a shadow-Xayan settlement, and, of course, the planet named Hellhole, which will never not make me think of this:



And last for this week is the new novel by much-in-the-news Orson Scott Card: The Gate Thief, the sequel to The Lost Gate. It looks like Card's take on contemporary fantasy, with a teenaged hero who is the scion of a long line of gatemages, with special secret powers that allow them to control access to magical otherworlds (or something vaguely similar to that). Presumably, our hero will be staunchly heterosexual, for those to whom such things are deeply important. This is also from Tor, and will be officially available tomorrow. 

Sunday, March 17, 2013

SFWA Solstice Awards for 2013

I'm still not sure if the recent Solstice Award from SFWA -- given annually to "up to three persons, living or dead, who have consistently had a positive, transformative influence on the genre of science fiction and fantasy" -- replaces or is in addition to the not-seen-recently Author Emeritus award, but the Solstices are more inclusive and have less gold-watch ambiance, so I like them better.

This year, SFWA honors two people, neither one of them primarily known as a fiction writer: the late Carl Sagan (and I hope merely his name is enough to explain why) and longtime Ace editorial powerhouse Ginjer Buchanan.

Those awards will be officially presented at the Nebula Awards Weekend in mid-May in San Jose.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

I Am Not at Lunacon

If you're at Lunacon, and looking for me, there's a reason why you can't find me: I'm not there.

I've only missed a couple of Lunacons over the past twenty years -- one because my older son was busy being born, and maybe one other time -- but this year it just didn't work out. Thing 1's birthday (alluded to above) is tomorrow, and he's enmeshed in the last practices for the big high school musical (The Music Man -- see it next weekend at Pompton Lakes High!) every day. Thing 2 is camping this weekend. And I didn't remember to get a table in the Dealer's Room in time, and also punted on the program questionnaire -- because, when I looked at it, with a section under each panel description headed "tell us why you should be on this panel," I couldn't think of a single reason for any of them.

So maybe next year. 


Incoming Books: Last Couple of Days

A bunch of new books are sitting on my desk, and, as usual, I'm arrogant to think that if they're good enough for me, then clearly everyone else needs to know about them. So, counting three books I got from the library this morning, three collections of a webcomic I bought from the creator directly, and a comics collection I got from that gigantic conglomerate online store, here's what's new:

Pogo, Vol. 2: Bona Fide Balderdash by Walt Kelly -- I came late to the Pogo bandwagon; I've heard about it my entire comic-reading life (which only slightly trailed my breathing-and-pooping life), and seen snippets of Kelly's great comic strip a number of times, but I never pulled the trigger and actually read the thing. Until, that is, last year, when the first volume of this new series collecting the entire newspaper strip -- Through the Wild Blue Yonder -- showed up in my library, so I had to give it a try. Long story short: I'm a convert, and I expect to be waiting eagerly for the rest of the projected twelve volumes reprinting Pogo as they come out annually.

Ménage à 3 by Gisèle Lagacé & David Lumsdon -- I bought the first three annual collections of this funny, sexy webcomic because one of the rules I try to live by is that if I really enjoy something that's provided for free, I need to find a way to pay for it once in a while. (Because, otherwise, it will go away, and I certainly don't want that.)

How to Tell If Your Cat Is Plotting to Kill You, the second collection of the not-really-a-webcomic The Oatmeal, by Matthew Inman, who makes his name difficult to find on his work (though for apparently different reasons than Cris Ware does the same) -- I got the first Oatmeal collection during the death throes of Borders, and mostly enjoyed it, and my older son (Thing 1) more recently really liked it. If that's not worth a library check-out, I don't know what is.

Sailor Twain by Mark Siegel -- This graphic novel got a lot of attention when it was published a few month back, but that was at a time when I was being flakier than usual with my reviews here and my relationships with publishers (I'm unabashedly amateur at Antick Musings; I'm serious about what I do but can be lackadaisical due to the general lack of remuneration), so I didn't get a copy of it, even though it probably wouldn't have been difficult at the time. But it was in the library, as I figured it would be eventually, and so now I can read it.

And last is Ellen Forney's recent graphic memoir Marbles, which you may have heard of -- it's been kind of a big deal. I've reviewed Forney's work here -- her cute, memorable, smart what-it-was-like-to-be-me-as-a-kid strip Monkey Food and her utterly different illustrated-sex-personals book Lust -- and liked all of what I've seen of it, despite (or because?) how widely divergent they were.

What's Due Back at the Library Today?

Why, these three books! Let's see what I can say about them quickly.

Lawrence Block, Hit Me

The fifth book about hit man Keller comes after a five-year gap from the fourth, Hit and Run (I reviewed that, and the previous book Hit Parade, here), and returns to the style of the first three books: it's a fix-up disguised as a novel.

Hit Me doesn't explain whether or where its five pieces -- "Keller in Dallas," Keller's Homecoming," "Keller at Sea," "Keller's Sideline" and "Keller's Obligation" -- first appeared separately, though I can see that "Dallas" was, and still is, available as a Kindle Single. But they are all, structurally, separate stories, each with a distinct arc, and just shoving them next to each other and counting the chapters sequentially doesn't turn Hit Me into a novel. Luckily, it doesn't need to be a novel: it's an excellent fix-up made up of gripping stories, each one covering one job of Keller's.

At the end of Hit and Run, Keller had seemingly abandoned his old career, after a serious betrayal: he had a new name, a new wife, a new home and legitimate job in New Orleans, and a baby on the way. But, like the rest of us over the years 2008-2012, the economic crisis changed his plans, and sent him back into his old ways. More specifically, his philatelic hobby, and the money he needed to continue it the way he wanted to, gave him an excuse to earn large sums by traveling to other cities, meeting new people, and killing them.

Hit Me is actually more concerned with philately than with murder; Keller kills because that's what he gets paid for -- and he's good at working out ways to do it and get away quietly afterward -- but stamps are what he really cares about, thinks about, and schemes about. And, along the way, Keller becomes another one of Block's vivid portrayals of modern men -- never quite sure what they want, but always as sure as young Elvis Costello that they want it now. So this is a quieter, less showy book than you'd expect from a "novel about a hit man" -- but Block has never been one to write to expectations.


Simon Rich, What in God's Name

Heaven is a business, primarily devoted to the production of Xenon. Humanity was a side project of its distant, lazy, unmotivated CEO -- we know him as God -- but He's gotten tired of the whole thing and wants to destroy all life on earth so he can focus on his new project: a pan-Asian restaurant. But two angels in the Department of Miracles have a plan: if they can just call one shot -- get two New York schlubs who secretly love each other to kiss within a month -- then God will call off the destruction and let humanity live on. Oh, did I mention that the two angels' relationship is amazingly parallel to those two schlubs?

Back in my SFBC days, we had a cluster of books that sold well for years and that we periodically threatened to put together to promote -- the fabled "Blasphemy Flyer," which we never actually did. So we would have been very happy to see What in God's Name; I'm sure I could have sold this very well for many years.

But, looking at it with a less mercenary eye, it's even thinner than most of the books in this category: not as blasphemous or funny as God: The Ultimate Autobiography, smaller and less exciting than Waiting for the Galactic Bus, and definitely not holding a candle to Good Omens. (It's not really comparable to Towing Jehovah, since that one definitely wasn't funny, and Only Begotten Daughter wasn't really about the yucks, either.) It is a short, pleasant, mildly blasphemous afterlife fantasy by an up-and-coming comedy writer -- Rich is the author of two collections of short comedy pieces, including Ant Farm, which I enjoyed, and the novel Elliot Allagash, which has been optioned for a movie -- but not much more than that.

So, if you're looking for a novel you can read in an hour or two about a God whose more than a bit of a putz and two sets of would-be lovers too shy and odd to quite get together without a serious push, this will do just fine. If you're looking for anything more than that, keep looking.


Stella Gibbons, Cold Comfort Farm

This one requires much less explanation: you've either heard of it already (and, in that case, probably read it at least once), or haven't. If you're in the latter bucket, immediately put Cold Comfort Farm on your list of books to read -- unless you have a strong aversion to actually funny books or an unnatural attachment to the rural muck and torment of Hardy, D.H. Lawrence, and their ilk.

I've vaguely felt like re-reading Cold Comfort Farm for more than a year -- I actually pulled out my copy, just before Hurricane Irene, but didn't get to it before the flood killed it. But The Wife and I rewatched the movie -- which is also excellent, in a very similar way -- a couple of weeks back (though The Wife didn't remember seeing it before, strangely). And so, through the mysteries of Inter-Library Loan, I got a copy of this edition, with the Roz Chast cover and the Lynne Truss introduction, both of which I recommend.

Cold Comfort Farm was Gibbons's first novel, published in 1932, as a takedown of the then very popular "rural novel" (Mary Webb seems to have been the exemplar of this now-forgotten subgenre), and it's as funny, and as endlessly quotable, now as it was then. It's a book about the triumph of thinking and planning over blind tradition and florid emotionalism, so I expect a lot of SFnal people will love it for that. But, most importantly, it's wickedly funny and deeply lovable, a joy to read and a joy to re-read and a joy to remember.

Friday, March 15, 2013

Euphemisms

Reading Shelf Awareness this morning -- particularly this article about Kobo describing the difference between their "regular customers" and the influx of new business from ABA stores -- I hit a term I'm not familiar with.

That term is "active romance."

My assumption -- since that's the way my mind always goes -- is that the "active" in "active romance" refers to the characters' genitals, and this is another way of saying "erotica" or "hot romance" or "spicy romance" or whatever last decade's term was; that this indicates a romance with a lot of sex in it, or a book with a lot of sex in it that tries to sneak in as a romance because the main characters stay together. [1]

Anyone out there able to confirm or deny?


[1] I make this distinction because romances, like every other mature genre, have important genre and subgenre markers, and so there are things that look like romance to civilians that real romance readers consider the equivalent of Michael Crichton for SF readers. I don't know enough to define all of those markers, but I'm smart enough to realize that serious romance readers care about them.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Heaving a Large Sigh

So Google is going to shut down Reader, now?

(They aren't satisfied with all of their other failed products, and they need to get rid of one that works well and that I use every day?)

Is Bloglines still out there? I guess I need to start researching what else is out there. And I'm sure porting over all of my folders is going to be a huge pain, curse those Mountain View bastards.

Anyone out there using anything particularly good to read RSS feeds? I really don't want to go back to a list of bookmarks and nothing keeping track of read/unread.

Blog Post Level Five Thousand!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is my five thousandth post on Antick Musings.

Since I'm reflexively contrarian, it is entirely content-free.

Please continue to go about your business.

Josh Ritter, Live and Free

I've blogged about Josh Ritter -- a great modern singer/songwriter who both writes killer songs like "The Temptation of Adam," "Rattling Locks," "Harrisburg," and "Girl in the War" and leads a great rocking band to deliver those songs with grace, style, and pure heart-of-rock-and-roll power -- several times before. (He's also that guy who was on Letterman last night, if you need an immediately cultural reference.)

But I know I like to discover music by listening to it on my own terms -- I download a lot of free stuff so it comes up on my iPod and elsewhen, and so I'm not as interested in streaming music that I can't take and live with for a while. And maybe you're like me, too.

Well, now you can grab a big handful of really good Josh Ritter stuff -- the entire live album Live at the Iveagh Gardens -- which recorded a great show at a unique venue in Dublin, where Ritter has a strong, enthusiastic following. This is a double album, folks -- those of you as old as me will know what that means -- with well over an hour and a half of great live music by one of today's smartest and thoughtful artists. And you can get that for free!

But wait! That's not all! (Imagine this in your best smarmy-late-night-infomercial voice.)

The free version of Live at the Iveagh Gardens also includes two songs from his new album, The Beast in Its Tracks, including the lovely first single "Joy to You Baby."

It comes via NoiseTrade, so you know it's all legit. And it probably won't be there forever, so get it now.

You Have Another Chance to Buy Matthew Hughes Books

Honestly, folks, if you haven't bought Hughes's excellent far-future SF/fantasy mysteries Majestrum, The Spiral Labyrinth, and Hespira -- a fine series of freestanding novels concerning the greatest discriminator of the penultimate age of the Earth -- I'm not sure how many more times I can tell you how excellent they are or burble once again about Hughes's sparkling prose.

But would the fact that you can now get those books in electronic form for the low, low price of only $2.99 entice you? Even better, it's direct from Hughes himself, so if you're the kind of reader who obsesses about fairness and wants to see the author get the best deal, this is exactly the offer you want.

So what are you waiting for?

Monday, March 11, 2013

Tiptree Award Winners!

The awards keep rolling along, and this last week saw the gala announcement of the winner of the Tiptree for 2012.

There's a tie this time out, and the joint winners are The Drowning Girl by CaitlĂ­n R. Kiernan, and Ancient, Ancient by Kiini Ibura Salaam.

The Tiptree jury doesn't release a shortlist ahead of time -- I think it's because they don't want to hurt anyone's feelings by making them "losers" -- but they do announce a list of losers with the winner, which strikes me as even worse. (But I'm not them, and it's not my award, so they get to do it their way.)

Those works that were almost good enough to get a Tiptree -- good enough to be mentioned specifically as losing the Tiptree -- for this year are:
Congratulations to Kiernan and Salaam, and, to all of the also-rans, try harder next year!

(via Cheryl Morgan, who is completely not to blame for my idiosyncratic take on this)

Unfathomable

The Washington Post's Wonkblog had a great post recently on what China's hackers are looking for when they rifle through American digital assets:

The Chinese look at Washington, and they think there must be some document somewhere, some flowchart saved on a computer in the basement of some think tank, that lays it all out. Because in China, there would be. In China, someone would be in charge. There would be a plan somewhere. It would probably last for many years. It would be at least partially followed. But that’s not how it works in Washington.
 It's quite amusing to note that chaos and dissension may be our USP.

A friend of mine used to do a similar joke -- he'd rant along the lines of "Millions of people have tried to understand what's in my brain, but not a one ever could! And do you know why? Because there's nothing there!" To sell that, he always ended with one finger pointed at his head and a maniacal look in his eyes that denied any possibility that he realized what he just said. Perhaps we can get Joe Biden to do the same to the Chinese; he's probably the top government guy right now who could best put it over.

Reviewing the Mail: Week of 3/9

There's a decent-sized pile to get through, and I've already lost one hour today (to Daylight Savings Time), so there's no time for exposition!

These are all books, either just published or just about to be. I got them in the mail last week, from publicists at their respective companies. I may review them, some or all, at some time in the future. But this is not a review, despite the title. This is just what looks amusing and/or enticing about these books, decided as I look at them right this second.

I've got both genre fiction and manga this time, but more of the latter than the former -- so, this time out, we'll have a skiffy sandwich, with manga for the bread. And I'll start out with two titles from Vertical, the classy boutique manga publisher:

Limit, Vol. 3 continues Keiko Suenobu's story of a group of schoolgirls thrown on their own devices -- and at each other's throats -- in the aftermath of a horrific bus crash that killed most of their classmates. This volume promises the return of another survivor -- and I've heard that this one is a boy, to shake up the creepy power dynamics of the survivor group.

And then there's Toru Fujisawa's GTO: 14 Days in Shonan, Vol. 8, continuing the side-story to his main Great Teacher Onizuka series -- though I'm beginning to wonder if each volume covers only one day of that short trip, since the pages keep piling up. (I have to admit I haven't read this or the main GTO series.)

(I was going to continue the sandwich metaphor, comparing each of the next few books to a kind of cold cut -- ham, cheese, pepperoni,who-the-hell-knows -- but it was silly and tortured to begin with, so I'm just dropping it here.)

Mark Chadbourn's Elizabethan Faerie-Cold-War secret-agent saga "Swords of Albion" returns with a third book, The Devil's Looking Glass, which was published by Pyr in mid-February. This time out, Elizabeth's master magician Dr. John Dee has gone missing, with an obsidian mirror of great power. And so Will Swyfte must go after him -- and, if the cover is anything to go by, he ends up far from England, somewhere tropical, steamy, and dangerous.

It must be the month for third-in-a-series, because Lee Carroll's contemporary fantasy series about jewelry designer (and world-protecting magic-worker, of course) Garet James is also back with a third book, The Shape Stealer. This one comes from Tor, and was published last week -- and, I see, that this book also features John Dee, who is rather more villainous in Carroll's world, having connected with the just-unleashed spawn of an evil Babylonian god in Paris. (Paris is the place for hook-ups, particularly if you're trolling for evil gods.) Garet and her ancient vampire boyfriend (and their buddies, a secret society of knights who protect the timeline -- guess there's some time-travel in this one as well) must stop the menace before the whole earth is engulfed.

Elizabeth Bear's pseudo-Mongol epic fantasy series (which began with Range of Ghosts) returns with a second book, Shattered Pillars, a Tor hardcover hitting stores next week. There's a lot going on here -- a scheming sorcerer hidden away and manipulating his enemies to fight each other, two mismatched heroes preparing for a great heroic deed, a plague-ridden empire, and more vaguely Arabic and central Asian names than you can shake a stick at.

If you like your genre elements in a more mainstream form, stuck into a thriller plot and without those skiffy cooties on it, you may want to check out Warren Fahy's Pandemonium, now in hardcover from Tor. It seems to be a sequel to Fahy's Fragment, with the series heroes (who seem to be married biologists) being invited by the obligatory ruthless Russian tycoon to visit a secret underground city which, inevitably, is connected to the tunnels where some kind of hideous evil subterranean monsters are waiting to rise up and wreak havoc.

And then, to finish up, I have a pile of books from Yen Press, all publishing right around now:

Durarara!! -- I reviewed the first volume about a year ago -- is back with a new, slightly-confusing Saika Arc, which begins in the volume I have in front of me. (Confusing mostly because the first few volumes I've seen weren't arcs at all, so it's not clear if this is a side-story or the continuation of the main story in a slightly different package.) The art is by Akiyo Satorigi, and the book also credits character designs to Suzuhito Yasuda and "creator" Ryohgo Narita, but doesn't actually say who wrote this particular combination of words and pictures. I expect Satorigi adapted it from the original light novel series, either with or without Narita's input. And the story still seems to be the same kind of thing: a whole bunch of characters, with semi-intersecting stories, in Tokyo's Ikebukuro district.

Atsushi Ohkubo's Soul Eater series hits a thirteenth volume, which I know my sons will be thrilled to see -- they're eating up this very energetic shonen tale of demon-fighters and their sapient shapeshifting weapons, which is something like the the early days of Naruto if the sharingan was a person.

And JinHo Ko's Jack Frost -- another series that I reviewed earlier volumes -- is back for a seventh installment, in which the mousy female protagonist has apparently become much less mousy and is engaging in some ultraviolence of her own as she learns her true role as "the mirror image."

Blood Lad, Vol. 2 is by Yuuki Kodama, continuing the story of Staz, the otaku slacker vampire head of a sector of Hell, and of the human girl who wandered into his territory (for no clear reason). I read the first volume, though I haven't written it up yet, and this volume looks to keep increasing the throw-everything-at-the-wall atmosphere of the first one.

I also have (deep breath) Higurashi When They Cry: Massacre Arc, Vol. 3, by Ryukishi07 and Hinase Momoyama, which tells more of the middle of the story of the eighth and penultimate videogame in the long-running series about a murder in small-town 1983 Japan. This has nearly 500 pages of comics, and its the twentieth book in a mega-series I haven't read, so I hope you'll excuse me if I can't explain the plot.

Last for this week is The Dark-Hunters: Infinity, Vol. 1, adapted from the novel Infinity (itself the beginning of a prequel series to the main Dark-Hunters series) by Sherrilyn Kenyon, with art by Jiyoung Ahn. The book credits Kenyon in the largest type -- as of course it should; it's her series, and she's the draw -- but it looks like Ahn did all of the work to turn the novel Infinity into comics page, from scripting to actually sitting down and drawing the whole damn thing. Kenyon's world is a big, complicated supernatural milieu, and this is one of the better entry points into it, following an important character early in his life as he learns it all for the first time.