Firebirds Rising

Young adult authors who typically write fantasy should not write science fiction.  That was why this second “Firebird” anthology, Firebirds Rising, was terrible.  That’s right, I said terrible.

And the first one, Firebirds, was so good.  I had stumbled upon it because it was the only place that a certain story of Sherwood Smith’s (Crown Duel) and of Megan Whalen Turner (The Thief) was published, and I wanted to read them.  The other fifteen or so stories were a pleasant surprise; I recognized most of the authors, had read some of their novels, enjoyed most of the stories, and tagged the book in my mind as a good resource for short fantasy.

I actively sought out the second collection, but the editor’s note warned me what was coming up.  Readers had apparently complained that the anthology lacked science fiction, so the editor included more this time.  This was an enormous mistake, because fantasy and science fiction are not the same, and just because you can write one kind well, you are not guaranteed a good performance in the other.

As this collection proved.  It wasn’t that feathered dinosaurs from outer space interbreeding with humans to keep from extinction was such a bad idea, but the story failed to answer the question Why?  And it wasn’t that a human-alien mind-bonding partnership was so unoriginal (though it was), but not every scrap of dialogue needs a dialogue tag, and it’s a bad idea for double-mouthed aliens to sing harmony with themselves instead of speak.  And adding layers upon layers obscure jargon for technology that is essentially email is also, dare I make the pun, alienating to the reader.

The fantasy, unfortunately, was nothing to speak of either.  It wasn’t bad, but it was just so… full of Gothic angst.  Sharon Shinn wrote just about like herself, which was commendable, and so did Francesca Lia Block, which was not.  The single redeeming story was “The Wizards of Perfil” by Kelly Link, although since I figured out the ending halfway through, I can only give this collection

2.0 / 10.0.

The Great Gatsby

In one glorious sitting, I reread The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald on Saturday.  It is definitely one of my favorites (though I never seem to think of it while making lists), and it entirely deserves the honor of best American novel.

It’s not very long, but it represents something – a way of life, a way of thinking – that is much larger than itself.  There’s also romance, violence, comedy, and tragedy.

If you haven’t read it, read it.  If you have read it, read it again.

10.0 / 10.0.

October 2009

• The Turn of the Screw by Henry James
• Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger
• Burning Down the House by Charles Baxter
• American Indian Stories by Zitkala-Sa.
• Henry V by William Shakespeare
• Cane by Jean Toomer
• The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven by Sherman Alexie
• The Torrents of Spring by Ernest Hemingway
• A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen
• The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin
• The Best American Short Stories 2009
• Going Postal by Terry Pratchett
• Quicksand by Nella Larsen
• The End by Salvatore Scibona (abandoned p. 98)
• Othello by William Shakespeare
• The Victoria Vanishes by Christopher Fowler

Which totals three full-length plays, five novels and a book of essays for class, one abandonment, one reread, and five novels for fun.  An unprecedented sixteen this month (though two were Very Short).  But it looks most impressive.  My favorite was the Fowler, with Pratchett a close second.

Love and guilt monkeys to everyone beginning NaNoWriMo at midnight on November 1.  I can’t wait to read your novels in December.  I will add them to my Stuff I’ve Been Reading list.

The Victoria Vanishes

I know, I can’t believe it either.  A book review post written before I’ve finished the book.  The Victoria Vanishes by Christopher Fowler is the sixth in his Peculiar Crimes Unit mystery series, featuring the octogenarian detectives Bryant and May.

Since I’d been anticipating this book since February, my husband and I went to the bookstore to pick it up yesterday on its release date.  As soon as we got home, I tore through the first chapter…and the second…and so forth.  He asked me, “Is it good?”

“Comfortably familiar,” I answered.  Which is why we read series.

Yes, The Victoria Vanishes is good so far, but primarily because there are so many repeated tropes - and even phrases – from the first books.  Bryant must be described as wearing a ratty old scarf.  May must be described as dapper and three years younger.  Bryant must play tricks on Raymond Land and dredge up some very strange people to ask about local history.  May must play damage control and keep an eye on his agoraphobic granddaughter April.  The mystery must threaten the continuance of the Peculiar Crimes Unit.  It must also be personal.  At Chapter Eleven, all the promises have been fulfilled.

It’s a contract.  The author of a series promises to write a book mostly like her other books, and the reader, who wants to read more of the same (because she likes it the way it is!), will keep buying, keep reading.  Christopher Fowler keeps his promises.

And so will I.

10.0 / 10.0.

Go Away

The rain, not you, O Reader.  Tomorrow there’s a 100% chance of heavy showers before 10:00 AM.  Which means that I’m going to get rained on while waiting for the bus.  And while getting off the bus and walking to class.  And while walking from one building to another building.  And while walking from another building to a third building.  And back again.

I will have to wear my rain shoes and bring some extra socks with me, just in case.  And the hardcover 2,624-page Anthology of Theory and Criticism, which does not fit in my bag?  Looks like I accidentally left it on my desk.

Going Postal

I like Terry Pratchett.  I’ve read about twenty of his Discworld novels, though none recently, until last week.  Pratchett’s perfect wordplay makes me laugh when I read his book Going Postal on the bus to and from campus.  In the middle of the semester, laughter is exactly what I need.

I wish I could live in Discworld.  I would like to be a witch, I think.  Or a member of the Watch.  Or I could be Discworld’s first Watch witch.  Yeah.

9.0 / 10.0.

The Good Old Days

Today the Shakespeare students had an exam.

They had fifty minutes to write about four out of eight passages from Henry the Fourth, Part One and Henry the Fifth.

They were permitted to have their books with them.

I look back fondly on the days of exams, when all I had to do was study, show up, and trace out my thoughts in a Blue Book.

Now I have two 15-20 page essays to write before the second week of December.

One of them is about American literature, and the other about literary theory.

These subjects are not my specialty.

Not to mention Shakespeare tests to grade.

I envy the Shakespeare students.

Alas for the good old days.