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adrian_turtlePeter Dickinson The Last House Party
Gina Kolata Flu
Noel Streatfeild Tennis Shoes
Ruth Rendell A Sleeping Life
Katharine Kerr Freeze Frames
Bernard Cornwell Sharpe's Eagle
Tanya Huff Child of the Grove
Dorothy Gilman Mrs Pollifax on Safari
Dorothy Gilman The Elusive Mrs Pollifax , a few chapters
John Brunner, assorted Traveler in Black stories, dipped into at
random, as needed, to help get rid of the taste of the Pollifax.
The Last House Party didn't really grab me until the second
page from the end. The language was well-done, yes. But the
characters didn't speak to me. I thought Dickinson should have
collaborated with someone who could have approached at least a
few of the characters with more sympathy. (Not being one to care
about fictional houses for their own sake, I need a character
handle.) In retrospect, considering that last page...I can see
why he was so distant and obscure. But I still think Nevil Shute
would somehow have handled it better. That last page caused an
emotional cascade through my memory of a rather dull book (dull
enough that I had always put it down with a faint sense of relief,
but never quite dull enough to quite stop me from picking it up
again.)
Flu starts with the 1918 epidemic, and proceeds to
several stories of science researchers trying to figure out
how the virus spreads and how to develop effective vaccines.
I especially liked the changing responses to fear, changing
expectations over the years. (This account was published in
1999, so it includes a few offhand references to Ebola, but
no discussion of biological warfare.) Kolata is a science
writer for the NY Times, and she did this one mostly in the
modern Discovery mode of science education...where one is
induced to stumble around in the same wilderness of confusion
as the original explorers for a bit, and led down a bunch of
dead ends to get a feel for the way science really works. It's
very different from a detective story or other modes of "here's
how this big problem was solved," which foreshadow the right
answer. Some people respond well to this approach, but others
find it deeply frustrating. If it maddens you, read Ch. 1,
then Ch. 5, then Ch. 7. Then you can go back and enjoy the
lost-in-the-wilderness bits.
I don't recall reading Tennis Shoes before. Maybe it
had another title? I found a couple of things jarring, that
I probably wouldn't have noticed as a child. There seemed to
be a considerable mismatch between the family's wealth (big
house, servants, private schools, country club...) and their
desperate need for money (such that sixpence is a big deal.)
Of course, I might just have read it when I was young enough
not to notice it, or to write it off as an artifact of the
story being written in British money, before inflation, so I
wouldn't expect to have any sense of how big a deal sixpence
is. The other jar was that none of the kids is really a
devoted tennis phenom - they have talent, or desire to please
the pushy adults in their lives, or desire to show off...but
no specific love for the game. I wonder how much untrained
"tennis talent" is really just quickness and hand-eye
coordination that could be trained for a dozen sports?
A Sleeping Life is the first Rendell I've read. I
think I'll be reading more. The plot wasn't much (I think
it hasn't worn well, since 1978) but I loved Wexford's voice.
I'd read Katharine Kerr's Deverry series a few years ago,
and it wasn't to my taste. I'm not sure why I pulled
_Freeze Frames_ off the library shelf, but I'm very glad
I did. It's not really a novel. It's short stories, or
maybe novellas, cascading from a Faust variant. I love a
good Faust variant, and I was chortling as soon as I
recognized the setup in the prologue. (Dr. Wagner says
something imprudent. Or heartfelt. And Nick turns up "At
that precise moment.") When it turned dark at the end of
the prologue, I stopped laughing at it, and we were off
to the races.
Most of the stories are only vaguely connected to "Dr
John Wagner" and his adventure in the first story after
the prologue. They have no evident connection to the
Faust story at all. But most of the Faust story, itself,
has no clear connection to those breathtaking moments
of negotiation and struggle. Think you that this is not
Hell, nor am I out of it? (Pay no attention to the date
this is posted. I didn't mean to leave it for Yom Kippur.)
A few years ago, when my mother was infatuated with the
Sharpe's Rifle's series on tv, she tried to push
me to read them. Bleah. Recently, a dear friend started
waxing enthusiastic about them, so I gave them another
try. I managed to get all the way through Sharpe's
Eagle, which is better than I did with Sharpe's
Regiment and very much better than I did with The
Archer's Tale. I arrived at the insight that Cornwell
does very visual description, as if he's writing a screenplay
instead of a novel. I'm sure it works wonders on those
vulnerable to visual stun, but it's deadly dull and makes
no sense. (In a manner of speaking, *I* am vulnerable to
visual stun, in that most video effects give me migraines
or timeslips. But I have the sense to cover my eyes.)
I like Tanya Huff's novels about vampires in Toronto. And
the "Quarters" series. Even Of Darkness, Light, and Fire,,
while it was kind of hokey and overdone, had some engaging
characters and good moments. So I was reasonably hopeful
about Wizard of the Grove. Pfui. Extruded fantasy
product. I recognized it as clumsily extruded fantasy
product (with splinters of unprocessed wood sticking out)
from the first chapter, and foolishly kept reading, hoping
it would get better. Nope. I'm not reading the other novel
in the volume. Back to the library it goes!
The Mrs. Pollifax books came to me with great recommendations,
from two people I like and respect. They're supposed to be
funny, but I don't get any of the humor. I don't even see
where it's supposed to be. Without humor, they're just
unspeakably tedious. Also...I had a vague sense that there
was something that would become deeply offensive if I paid
more attention to it. I didn't want to pay that much attention
to books that I already found so unpleasant. I just skimmed
the last chapters of "Safari" and the first chapters of "Elusive"
to see if they started to seem any funnier or less offensive.
While there's some possibility that I was translating my
irritated, resentful, feelings of not-getting-the-jokes into
incipient offendedness, I'm curious how others have perceived
these books. I'm not recommending anyone go out and read them.
Traveler in Black is not a standard comfort re-read. It
stands in the second line of reserves, pulled out for extraordinary
circumstances (which this was.) It helped. My standard comforting
bit of Brunner is Tides of Time *smile*
Gina Kolata Flu
Noel Streatfeild Tennis Shoes
Ruth Rendell A Sleeping Life
Katharine Kerr Freeze Frames
Bernard Cornwell Sharpe's Eagle
Tanya Huff Child of the Grove
Dorothy Gilman Mrs Pollifax on Safari
Dorothy Gilman The Elusive Mrs Pollifax , a few chapters
John Brunner, assorted Traveler in Black stories, dipped into at
random, as needed, to help get rid of the taste of the Pollifax.
The Last House Party didn't really grab me until the second
page from the end. The language was well-done, yes. But the
characters didn't speak to me. I thought Dickinson should have
collaborated with someone who could have approached at least a
few of the characters with more sympathy. (Not being one to care
about fictional houses for their own sake, I need a character
handle.) In retrospect, considering that last page...I can see
why he was so distant and obscure. But I still think Nevil Shute
would somehow have handled it better. That last page caused an
emotional cascade through my memory of a rather dull book (dull
enough that I had always put it down with a faint sense of relief,
but never quite dull enough to quite stop me from picking it up
again.)
Flu starts with the 1918 epidemic, and proceeds to
several stories of science researchers trying to figure out
how the virus spreads and how to develop effective vaccines.
I especially liked the changing responses to fear, changing
expectations over the years. (This account was published in
1999, so it includes a few offhand references to Ebola, but
no discussion of biological warfare.) Kolata is a science
writer for the NY Times, and she did this one mostly in the
modern Discovery mode of science education...where one is
induced to stumble around in the same wilderness of confusion
as the original explorers for a bit, and led down a bunch of
dead ends to get a feel for the way science really works. It's
very different from a detective story or other modes of "here's
how this big problem was solved," which foreshadow the right
answer. Some people respond well to this approach, but others
find it deeply frustrating. If it maddens you, read Ch. 1,
then Ch. 5, then Ch. 7. Then you can go back and enjoy the
lost-in-the-wilderness bits.
I don't recall reading Tennis Shoes before. Maybe it
had another title? I found a couple of things jarring, that
I probably wouldn't have noticed as a child. There seemed to
be a considerable mismatch between the family's wealth (big
house, servants, private schools, country club...) and their
desperate need for money (such that sixpence is a big deal.)
Of course, I might just have read it when I was young enough
not to notice it, or to write it off as an artifact of the
story being written in British money, before inflation, so I
wouldn't expect to have any sense of how big a deal sixpence
is. The other jar was that none of the kids is really a
devoted tennis phenom - they have talent, or desire to please
the pushy adults in their lives, or desire to show off...but
no specific love for the game. I wonder how much untrained
"tennis talent" is really just quickness and hand-eye
coordination that could be trained for a dozen sports?
A Sleeping Life is the first Rendell I've read. I
think I'll be reading more. The plot wasn't much (I think
it hasn't worn well, since 1978) but I loved Wexford's voice.
I'd read Katharine Kerr's Deverry series a few years ago,
and it wasn't to my taste. I'm not sure why I pulled
_Freeze Frames_ off the library shelf, but I'm very glad
I did. It's not really a novel. It's short stories, or
maybe novellas, cascading from a Faust variant. I love a
good Faust variant, and I was chortling as soon as I
recognized the setup in the prologue. (Dr. Wagner says
something imprudent. Or heartfelt. And Nick turns up "At
that precise moment.") When it turned dark at the end of
the prologue, I stopped laughing at it, and we were off
to the races.
Most of the stories are only vaguely connected to "Dr
John Wagner" and his adventure in the first story after
the prologue. They have no evident connection to the
Faust story at all. But most of the Faust story, itself,
has no clear connection to those breathtaking moments
of negotiation and struggle. Think you that this is not
Hell, nor am I out of it? (Pay no attention to the date
this is posted. I didn't mean to leave it for Yom Kippur.)
A few years ago, when my mother was infatuated with the
Sharpe's Rifle's series on tv, she tried to push
me to read them. Bleah. Recently, a dear friend started
waxing enthusiastic about them, so I gave them another
try. I managed to get all the way through Sharpe's
Eagle, which is better than I did with Sharpe's
Regiment and very much better than I did with The
Archer's Tale. I arrived at the insight that Cornwell
does very visual description, as if he's writing a screenplay
instead of a novel. I'm sure it works wonders on those
vulnerable to visual stun, but it's deadly dull and makes
no sense. (In a manner of speaking, *I* am vulnerable to
visual stun, in that most video effects give me migraines
or timeslips. But I have the sense to cover my eyes.)
I like Tanya Huff's novels about vampires in Toronto. And
the "Quarters" series. Even Of Darkness, Light, and Fire,,
while it was kind of hokey and overdone, had some engaging
characters and good moments. So I was reasonably hopeful
about Wizard of the Grove. Pfui. Extruded fantasy
product. I recognized it as clumsily extruded fantasy
product (with splinters of unprocessed wood sticking out)
from the first chapter, and foolishly kept reading, hoping
it would get better. Nope. I'm not reading the other novel
in the volume. Back to the library it goes!
The Mrs. Pollifax books came to me with great recommendations,
from two people I like and respect. They're supposed to be
funny, but I don't get any of the humor. I don't even see
where it's supposed to be. Without humor, they're just
unspeakably tedious. Also...I had a vague sense that there
was something that would become deeply offensive if I paid
more attention to it. I didn't want to pay that much attention
to books that I already found so unpleasant. I just skimmed
the last chapters of "Safari" and the first chapters of "Elusive"
to see if they started to seem any funnier or less offensive.
While there's some possibility that I was translating my
irritated, resentful, feelings of not-getting-the-jokes into
incipient offendedness, I'm curious how others have perceived
these books. I'm not recommending anyone go out and read them.
Traveler in Black is not a standard comfort re-read. It
stands in the second line of reserves, pulled out for extraordinary
circumstances (which this was.) It helped. My standard comforting
bit of Brunner is Tides of Time *smile*
