The New Atlantis by Ursula K. Le Guin

2.5 Stars

I wanted to enjoy this more than I did, but I think it felt disjointed and uncentered for a short story.

America has fallen. A dystopian vision of corporate fascism where the population is controlled and monitored, "reeducated" as required, and each citizen given their due portion of goods. The collective is paramount, marriage and nuclear family units outlawed. Imagine Stalin and the Chinese revolution, 1984 and V for Vendetta rolled in this version of socialist imprisonment. The glimpses of Atlantis and the commentary has beautiful language and the dissonance between the two realms are extreme and you wonder which is truly worse, but it felt like it didn't quite gel for me.

Remembering that this was originally written in 1975 it is a disturbing vision nonetheless.

"The Neo-Birch insurgents in Phoenix could not hold out much longer against the mass might of the American army and air force, since their underground supply of small tactical nukes from the Weathermen in Los Angeles had been cut off."

"In a way it was more like an ethereal snowfall than a sunrise. The light seemed to be in discrete particles, infinitesimal flecks, slowly descending, faint, fainter than flecks of fine snow on a dark night, and tinier; but blue."

Jack Glass by Adam Roberts

3 Stars

3 crimes scenes, 1 man

Mass murder Jack Glass is on loose and the Solar System is not safe. Enveloping theoretical physics and power dynamics, Roberts offers this suspense. It questions values from loyalty to the ever present, does the ends justify the means.

Broken down into three separate vignettes, it's not immediately obvious that these are sequential events, but the impetus for Jack's actions unfolds. The first vignette, "In the Box", I loved; it was gritty science fiction and a big surprise--Big! My favorite easily. The second part, "The FTL Murders" was very slow in comparison and it spent a great deal of time developing two characters, where the conflict of human versus science are anthropomorphized, too much time is you ask me. Dawdled. The third vignette, "The Impossible Gun", brings the stories full circle connecting them in the third crime scene. I liked this better than the FTL, but not as much as Box, but that was probably because I'd figured out the resolution or rather one version of possible resolutions--and I liked mine better than the real ending. I got the science part 100%, the human part, not as much; therefore, I was disappointed in how it drifted and settled. I guess the surprise in that one was one that I didn't see the basis for it existing, but then again I don't think it was suppose to be rational. Ended with me going, really Jack?

So, the fluffy ending and saggy middle kinda deflated the joy from this one. Eh.

Vaster than Empires and More Slow by Ursula K. Le Guin

3.5 Stars

Other than a book of nonfiction essays on life that I read, this is my first Le Guin book .*hangs head in shame* Clearly, I was just depriving myself of some beautiful prose and thought-provoking work that I will be delving into for years to come. I also feel like Le Guin is one of those writers that makes you a better person, not sure I want to be better, but if it's the price to pay--so be it.

I could make analogies and really nail down the concepts of the story, but I think that would ruin it. So, I'll say this instead. This work focuses on neurodiversity and morays within the crew of an Extreme Surveying mission. Le Guin's strength is psychological, character motivation on a beautifully drawn tableau. Complexity without being obscure, and the glorious sensation of drifting on a river of words. 

Riveting short story that makes a perfect bedtime treat.

Mythologies by Roland Barthes

3 Stars

There are times when I realize that I can be very lazy in my reading, and this book is the slap that reminded me. 

I wish I had started with the second section first, Myth Today because it was an excellent review of semiotics, which I have minimal understanding of and what I knew was dusty and the terminology did not come easily or quickly. By the end of the essays I was skating along, but it is not speedy reading per se. 

I feel like this book hasn't aged well. The ideas are still valid, but because Barthes utilized contemporaneous cultural phenomena of 1950s, which was a strength of his work and now a weak link because not all of them are immediately graspable. The examples are so pinned to precise moments in time that the arguments are no longer relevant for most individuals. Post modernism isn't my forte, and frankly, I feel like the brief exposure to Saussure that I've had did Mythologies a disservice since good arguments are like structures, you build them. 

Even with all these drawbacks, the value in Barthes' theories is clear, some easier to extrapolate than others. Some thoughts to tickle:

Where would be without the male gaze?

"Such is the world of Elle: here women are always a homogenous species, a constituted body jealous of its privileges, even more enamored of its servitudes; here men are never on the inside, femininity is pure, free, powerful' but men are everywhere outside, exerting pressure on all sides, making everything exist; they are eternally the creative absence, that of the Racinian god: a world without men but entirely constituted be the male gaze, the feminine world of Elle is precisely that of the gynoeceum."

Yes, this is boats.

"To possess an absolutely finite space: to love a ship is first of all to love a superlative house, one that is unremittingly enclosed, and certainly not loving great vague departures: a ship is a habitat phenomenon before being a means of transport."

And this tidbit--La! Substitute US or any nation state for France. 

"When things become serious, abandon Politics for the Nation. For men of the Right, Politics is the Left: they are France." 

I had already experienced much of Barthes peripherally, but sitting down and reading his work was good and I probably should have carved out time earlier. C'est la vie. 

It might be Old Fashioned, but still good.

The Sea by John Banville

3.5 Stars

Two catalysts, one man, one place.

"Something precious was dissolving and pouring away between my fingers. Yet how easily, in the end, I let it go. The past, I mean the real past, matters less than we pretend."

I'm not sure why this took so long for me to read since it isn't particularly lengthy. The writing is highly descriptive, evocative, so much so that I often found my mind spinning off into its own memories of the sand, air, and life during the flashpoint of adolescence. I couldn't stick with the story because as soon as another image was laid down by Banville I swirled into mine. It wasn't competitive, but the prose certainly created this connection, a loop back in time. Very weird, and I found myself remembering things I thought I'd forgotten--like a name I couldn't recall and suddenly as I put the story aside and started drifting to sleep it was there.

I'm not sure the value in this book for me was the story, but rather the rekindling of the past. I'm trying to recall the last time I had an experience like this while reading and I can't think of one. I often have brief forays into alternate thoughts or timelines, but never so often--every few pages here. Is it the book or me? Don't know.

"Happiness was different in childhood. It was so much then a matter simply of accumulation, of taking things--new experiences, new emotions--and applying them like so many polished tiles to what would someday be the marvelously finished pavilion of the self."

A man returns to his family's holiday cottage by the sea to remember after losing a segment of his life. And what happens is this tandem story line of the far past and the recent past being told over the rickety and out of sync interaction with the past place. He's stepping back in time and it doesn't quite fit what he remembered, which is often how we experience places we haven't seen in ages. It is in the last pages, 10%, that the tale finally unravels completely and the connection speculated becomes evident.

"That was the pact we made, that we would relieve each other of the burden of being the people everyone else told us we were."

An Ideal Husband by Oscar Wilde

3 Stars

“Ah! I prefer pluck.  It is not so common, nowadays, as genius is.”

Witty and charming, assuming you ignore some really dreadful and outdated sexist concepts. Those I could stab in the eye, but Lord Goring and Lady Mabel's repartees were delightfully nonsensical. While it's not The Importance of Being Earnest, it's still a nice diversion.

Lord Goring:  [Triumphantly.]  No; that was a flash of genius.

Mabel Chiltern:  Your first.

Lord Goring:  [With determination.]  My last.

Stabby, stabby:

"A man’s life is of more value than a woman’s.  It has larger issues, wider scope, greater ambitions.  A woman’s life revolves in curves of emotions."

The theme of unrealistic expectations that we place on our intimates, the burden of judgement instead of forgiveness, and ease in which miscommunication can blossom wildly out of control are all well done. That said, I'll be absolutely judgmental and unforgiving: I need better quality friends because while I have the occasional engaging word play for the most part it seems everyone's forgotten the art of conversation. It's not moaning and whining about everything. Life updates are good and have a place, but aim higher. Amuse me. Otherwise, why am I bothering.

"My prizes came a little later on in life.  I don’t think any of them were for good conduct."

Noir by Christopher Moore

3 Stars

The streetlights floated above in their vaporous auras like lost spirits, never reaching the pavement.

The scene is set. I like Noir, and this feels true to the genre except with a lot more laughing. The post WWII setting in San Francisco is vibrant and the edgy jokes run the gauntlet. There's still Moore's crude and vulgar humor, but instead of "naturals" like Pocket from the Fool series or Toulouse Lautrec from Sacre Bleu we have a ragamuffin whose insults that are just misses which make them even funnier.

Again, for those not familiar with Moore's writing, it is not politically correct. In fact, it makes art out of our prejudices by mocking them relentlessly. There is nothing sacred: race, religion, sexuality, and gender are all fair game in the tussle of the story. But under it all, it's done to highlight points and slap the reader upside the head, which is probably due.

"How's a girl suppose to get by now. I know a hundred girls who can run a bead with an arc welder as good as any guy, but what are they doing since the war? Typing memos or answering phones, if they're lucky--folding shirts and changing diapers if they ain't."

There's fornication, drinking, smoking, and everyone that can be insulted is. Still funny.

"I am the Harriet Tubman of your breasts."
She rolled back over, her people now free of their bonds. "Well, now let me show you the underground railroad." And she pushed him until he was backing partway onto the floor, pushing the coffee table back as he went. He resurfaced under her nearly removed dress.
"Hey, this doesn't look like Churchill at all. More like Rasputin."
"That's not the birthmark. To the left."

A good time was had including entertainment provided by Roswell and some G men. Overall, this felt slower than the other Moore books I've read, but gotta say that the last 20% was fantastic--Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. Overall, not as rollicking as his Shakespearean parodies or his homage to Impressionist artists. Then again, it could be that I just prefer the twist in both of those in relation to time period and content addressed in Noir.

The Quiet Gentlemen by Georgette Heyer

3.5 Stars

Another countryside romp in this story of succession as the disenfranchised Gervase returns from the battlefields, resigning his commission, and taking his rightful place as Earl of Stanyon. Much to the disappointment of some.

Similar to The Unknown Ajax in the general plot line and characters, but there's an added attempted murder to jazz this one up a bit. Definitely more dare-doing and mishaps for the characters. I figured out the mystery portion less than halfway through so it seemed to limp along even while the blood ran hot. If the last Heyer book I read had not been The Unknown Ajax then I probably would have enjoyed this a bit more. A couple months is not long enough between story reboots, nonetheless it was entertaining enough. Solid read.

In this one instead of being the country oaf, the long-lost heir is masquerading as a:

Martin, his affronted stare taking in the number of the capes of that drab coat, the high polish on the Hessian boots, the extravagant points of a shirt-collar, and the ordered waves of guinea-gold hair above a white brow, muttered audibly: 'Good God! the fellow's nothing but a curst dandy!'