he was kind of terrible

that she could make me weep
at his death -still- despite all
he did is perhaps a sign of her
great storytelling ability or
maybe just my total exhaustion

Blame the book

I have not been sleeping very well lately.  (It comes and goes with and without the pain.)  I'm not sure if that's why all I've felt like doing lately is lying down somewhere with my legs propped up and reading a book.  It might also be good books making me feel that way.  And summer.  Book book book.  I'll blame the book.  This kind of book is definitely part of why I am not an author.  I would much rather read books like this than even write, and I always have.  Mostly unrepentantly.

beware reading whiplash

One thing I learned this summer is that going from reading a master artist at the top of his game writing beautiful, sparing, tragic novels to a new author's first book road novel (definitely not the destination but the journey and all the stories you hear along the way) can cause a severe case of reading whiplash.  It was like watching an Olympic-caliber swimmer slicing cleanly through the water and then having the water turned into, I don't know, gelatin or something.  It was SUCH A SLOG.  But the first author does not have any new books for me to read, and I needed to move on to something . . .

The Lions of Al-Rassan by Guy Gavriel Kay

It took a long time from first day of reading to last day of reading, but I recently finished Guy Gavriel Kay's history-based fantasy The Lion's of Al-Rassan.  It took me a long time because everything these days takes a longer time, what with all the moving planning stuff that has to get done and the pain and such, but the real reason it took a long time is because I was dragging my feet because I knew this book would end in tears.  And holy cow, did it ever.  I've read four of this author's books now, and there are SO MANY TEARS IN EVERY ONE that I think I will need a Terry Pratchett chaser.  (Sorry, new Dresden Files book.  I will continue to exercise extreme self-control and put you off until I really need a pick-me-up and have a whole day to give you.)

I see why writers like Kay.  He is a master of technique.  He does things I would not let many other authors get away with doing, but he does them so well I just have to smile crookedly and bow to his mastery.  For instance, I should really be irked with Kay for this dragging out of cliffhangers he sometimes does.  Other authors have the decency to open the next section far away with another set of characters to distract us or just start out the next section by handing us the information in the first sentence.  Kay sometimes drags it out for PAGES.  And he does it brilliantly.  It just grinds the tragedy with the uncertainty for that much longer, and I should resent him for this obvious artifice.  Instead, I suppose I appreciate his acknowledgement that patient readers can sometimes savor the not-knowing for a while, that good readers can trust good authors to only use this device when it intensifies something important.  He uses these techniques with restraint, so they don't get tedious.

I knew that one of the characters was based on El-Cid, but I purposely didn't go and look to see how that story ended.  I didn't need to.  The fun thing about making fantasy out of history is that you don't have to be a slave to it.  Also, I was sure it was going to end in tragedy.  I don't know a lot about that period in history, but I did know that it was around the time when Spain went from being a society where Jews, Christians, and Muslims could mostly co-exist rationally to a place where that really wasn't the case anymore.  Lots of war and religious extremism and violence and religion used to disguise a desire for power and domination and the destruction of an era of peace that allowed some things to flourish that never had before.

Kay's omniscient point of view is excellent.  He effortlessly switches between characters, always moving to just the right character to keep the plot going, and he is deadly with his foreshadowing.  (It's kind of like a bludgeon, but he adds this foreshadowing sentence at the end of an otherwise seemingly slow-moving section, and it's like a punch in the gut.  You don't go on to the next section wondering what will happen.  Instead, you keep reading and wondering exactly how it will all go wrong.)  It's not that all of the POV characters are likeable; it's that they are all expertly drawn.  You understand something important even about the ones you dislike (and Kay knows how to limit your time in their heads to just the parts of the story that need to be told from that point of view to best move the plot along).

The story is so very timely for me right now, too.  The radio has recently been reminding me that this kind of "ideological" clashing didn't stop in the 11th century.  It's happening in the Middle East and in Southern Asia right now.  It is scary and it is ugly and it is messy.  It always has been.  It always will be.  It destroys things and people.  It breaks my heart, it probably breaks God's heart, and it breaks the world.  Reading the kind of mindset that causes it is important but difficult and a little terrifying.  

I love Kay's books.  His grasp of story is very strong, and his voices are compelling.  I'm off to read some Pratchett, though, because I need some more gentle humanism right now.  I'm a couple Pratchett books behind, so I can probably read a few powerful and slightly soul-bruising Kay books followed by some Pratchett.  Not a bad plan in a stressful time.


NOTE: For those of you who like to see book covers, check them out here.  My favorite is the top left (Canadian Hardcover).  No confusion about who the fourth person is; though I understand the desire for architectural symmetry.

This Rough Magic

b This Rough Magic by Lackey, Flint, and Freer: Well, Benito went a bit crazy.  Not that I blame him because I'm kind of angry at Maria for her choice at the end of Shadow of the Lion.  I thought Benito was really starting to pull it together and would have been great . . .  Well, anyway.  Maria chose to marry someone safe and uninvolved (i.e. not Benito), which is sad because you know from page 1 of this book that this husband will surely die, so you don't want to like him.  (That is not really a spoiler because it is SO obvious, even if precisely when he's going to die is up in the air).

It's horrible for me as a writer/reader because I know he needs to die because Maria and Benito are frickin' destined to be together, and I feel bad about that because he really is a nice guy, and then when he did die, I was sad but also happy.  It's complicated.  And not really a spoiler.

The location for this chapter of the story is Corfu; there's a new ancient land power lurking in the background, Maria has a baby, and you do find out whose it is.  Other highlights include a character unexpectedly falling in love (and falling really hard), betrayal, a siege, and terrible and evil people doing very bad things. 

Shadow of the Lion

b Shadow of the Lion by Lackey, Freer, Flint: This is a narrow but epic historical fantasy sort of thing.  Written by a team of three authors (some with a better grasp of punctuation than others) with tons of characters and complex, interweaving narratives, Shadow of the Lion is not for the faint of heart.  It is pretty awesome, though.  The complexity made this a slow stop-and-go event for me that dragged on over several months, but I am a sucker for alternative-historical fantasy in general but especially when the emphasis is more on the historical. 

Sometimes the world-building in this sort of book is a tad muddy; we're not precisely sure where history diverged, and we're not sure what the fantasy elements are.  This book makes these things pretty clear from the word GO, and the changes are inspired.  Magic is real and given a certain amount of respect and acknowledgement by the church.  When this change is made, a lot of the crazy things the monastic knights did and many of the wacky superstitions of the time actually make sense.  It's a very nice trick: to make history more sensical by adding fantasy elements to it (just like that word I made up there). 

There is intrigue, action, betrayal, drinking, whoring, church, state, old land Spirits, good and evil, hidden identities, danger, madness, and a ton of characters of all kinds that kind of make you hate it every time the point of view changes.  Centered in medieval Venice (and the lion of St. Mark legends).  Good stuff.

How to Save a Life (epigraph by Flannery O'Connor)

How to Save a Life by Sara Zarr (audiobook):  And this, THIS, is why I read fiction.  Because I can read the quote about how we need to be kind to everyone because they're all fighting battles, and I can nod and feel that twinge of sympathy, of empathy and compassion like a kick in the tail to remember to try a little tenderness.  But this story, alternating between two voices transforms that gentle kick in the butt into a brutal punch in the gut.  THESE ARE THE KINDS OF BATTLES PEOPLE ARE FIGHTING.  Their anger is not about you.  Your kindness matters.  Your restraint when you could start yelling in frustration at the customer service lady matters.  Because people are dealing with things like this and worse every day, and you never know what odd behavior is a result of these terrible things you know nothing about, love, kindness, tenderness, and grace are never wasted when you give them to others as a gift.  They say the sermons we preach the most are the ones we need to hear the most.  Amen.  I need to hear this a million times a day, every time I open my mouth, every time I sit down to write.  I need to write it on my forehead and bind it on my wrist, etc.

As for the audiobook itself,well done.  Had a few minor problems with the production, but overall it was very good.  They had different readers play each of the POV characters.  This worked very well because the voices were very different and appropriate for their parts.

• They don't let you know when a disk is over, so it just goes from the last track back to the first one, and you loose the thread of the story.
• They didn't always make it clear whether something was thought versus said aloud, which in this story was VERY important and the lack of clarity was often very confusing.  (When I read my copy of the book some day, this will not be a problem, and I will have their voices in my mind, which will be a win.)

And this is why I read YA: because the process of thrashing your way to better understanding and better choices doesn't simply stop when you become an adult.  Maybe coming of age novels resonate with adults not just because they bring nostalgia but because they remind us it's always been this hard.

Requiem for a stalled audiobook

For L and P, who probably need a laugh right now

Interviewer (I): So, I hear you're stalled out on another audiobook.  Care to share?
Me: Well, you know, I've hit that point.
I: What point?
Me: The one where if it's written well and consistently, it will end horribly as a tragedy where the evil triumph and the righteous suffer and die horribly, and I cry a lot, and when I get out of the car with my reddened eyes and tear-ravaged face, people look at me with concern.
I: And if it's not well-written and consistent?
Me: Then it will have a sappy, inconsistent, probably literally deux-ex-machina sort of happy ending where everyone who deserves it is miraculously saved and all the evildoers are punished and they all live happily ever after (the people who are alive, anyway) until they die young because it's 14th century Europe. 
I: And that would be bad?
Me: Kind of.
I: ?
Me: Then I will feel bad because I will be happy about the ending even though I have an advanced degree in creative writing and should have standards.
I: But you don't.
Me: Nope.  I have no real standards to speak of.  And I will feel a tiny twinge of guilt because I don't feel as badly as I should about the ending being crappy from a literary standpoint.
I: But no one will stare at you in the parking lot.
Me: Well, not for the tear-stained ruin reason. 
I: Ah.  Well.  You could always punish yourself by reading a piece of highly-acclaimed literary fiction.
Me: True.  I might be willing to take that one for the team, so to speak.
I: Many folks online seem to think that the book in question is NOTHING LIKE THE AWESOME PILLARS OF THE EARTH, which is also in medieval Europe and has a cathedral, so maybe you could try that one.   
Me: Sounds promising.  However, I would know nothing about finding spoilers on the Internet.  I am actually testing my self-control because I really want to go to the library and spoil the ending for myself, so I will know whether I should listen to the last discs in the comfort of my own home where I can throw things, not cause traffic accidents, and cry for hours while experiencing a work of fiction and having no one look at my in a judge-y way unless I time things badly and have to do laundry.
I: That sounds very . . . um, twisted of you.
Me: Thank-you-I-think.
I: I note how you carefully said you would know nothing a bout finding spoilers on the Internet, but you didn't say anything about looking for them.  I take this to mean the Internet failed you in the spoiler department?
Me: Yes!  Complete Internet Fail!  Curse you, Internet!  You are full of spoilers I really don't want to see, but when I am actively searching for spoilers, there are none to be found in the English-speaking world only willing to spend half an hour looking.  If I spoke Spanish, I bet I would totally know everything and already be done with the dratted thing.  Maybe I should ask my Spanish-speaking friends to go look for me.
I: Okay.  So you've been in withdrawal for the last couple of weeks?
Me: Indeed.  I will be sad when I no longer get to hear people talking in awesome (but incorrect) Spanish-accented English every time I get into my car.
I: There are always the voices in your head.
Me: True.  They are a comfort.
I: And Princess Bride if you really need it.
Me: Also true.
I: You could go get it at a library if you're that determined to spoil it.
Me: The library book will not speak in awesome Spanish-accented English.
I: Drawback for sure.  Well, let us know if you ever find out how this thing ends.  I mean, it's not like you already spent 19 hours listening to it or anything and stalled out a couple discs from the end.
Me:  Yeah.  Thanks for rubbing that in.
I: Until next time, keep up the good work!
Me: Thanks!  I'll, um, try.
I: So, audience, has this ever happened to you?

Praying for fictional characters

Have you ever prayed for a fictional character while you were reading a book?  I wonder if that's why I like reading stories set in universes where there is room for God: because then my prayers are not necessarily in vain.

Boundary Waters

Boundary Waters by William Kent Krueger: The second book of the mystery-adventures of former-sheriff Cork O'Connor in northern Minnesota.  In this book, there's a missing country star and numerous parties trying to find and/or kill her.  Cork is ultimately on the team trying to keep her alive.  At least, he is trying to keep her alive.  There are doubts about some of his teammates.  (Except for the poor little hostage kid and his dad.  They're legit.)

I have had this book for years.  Therefore, I did not have to make sad faces about not having the audiobook available when I finished the first book in the series.  I just launched straight into this one.

I don't think I will end up marathoning these books in my traditional book-binge sense (read them all in a row with nothing else in between).  I think I will have to spread them out.  There is a lot of darkness in them because they deal with tough relationships and situations and the darker sides of people and what they will do when cornered.  I can't have too much concentrated darkness without sufficient humor to leaven it.  (Thought I laughed pretty hard both times the phrase "Monkeys will fly out of my butt" made an appearance in the series.)

It's sort of weird to be reading books by someone I went to church with.  I sang with his wife in the choir.  I adored his aging father, who, if I remember correctly, was an atheist and the church custodian.  I went to a high tea he spoke at, and I loved his practical view of writing and his advice and his life stories.  I find myself glad the books are living up to their hype, and I do recommend them to people who like the landscape to be a character in the book and to those who like very human mysteries.

Dykstra's War

Dykstra's War by Kooistra: This was a solid, (mostly) standalone sci-fi novel.  Like a lot of old sci fi, the ideas carry the day (not so much the plot or execution).  There were some guns hanging on the walls unused at the end, making it seem like the author might have written (or intended to write) a third part.  Which I would totally read if it exists because I really want to know what happened to . . .

Well, anyway, the main protagonist is an aged genius physicist enjoying his retirement but a bit bored when some aliens decide to attack, and the government finds that none of their folks can get the job done.  They've been ignoring Dykstra, thinking him over the hill and worthless, but he's still got some life (and a lot of brainpower) in him, and he gets deeply involved.  There are a decent number of characters, most of them very likeable and none of them with names like Smith or Jones.  I kind of appreciated that a lot.  It was done so effortlessly and practically.  I also liked how a lot of the conflict arose from plain old miscommunication.

One of the pleasant surprises of the book was the way that some of the characters were just allowed to be Christians, and that was treated as a natural part of their characters.  (Some Evangelicals might actually take offense because these are mostly Mainline Protestants/Catholics.)  There's not a lot of this room-for-God-and-people-who-believe-in-Him-in sci-fi nowadays, which I find sad.  This is not any kind of theology book.  It's not C.S. Lewis' Space trilogy or Ender's Shadow.  It's just a world where people of faith can do science and muse about the implications as they try to figure out how to save the world from an alien species they simply can't communicate with.

This Rough Magic

This Rough Magic by Lackey, Freer, and Flint: More magic, mystery, treachery, and mayhem in a Renaissance alternate history world where Christianity and magic are intertwined.  (And fewer obvious seams where the authors split the story.)  We venture away from Venice and to an island with its own magic and its own problems.  There's piracy, sieges, satanic rituals, witches, bitches, babies, ill-tempered goats, sword fights, sacrifices, heroism, love, politics, etc.

I have to say that the tension in this book was frequently unbearable.  There's this woman who decided to choose a safe marriage for her coming baby.  The husband is a really nice man, very stable, very kind, very dedicated to his work and his new family.  And you feel terrible because for all that, you are sort of waiting--slightly hopeful and vaguely guilty--for the ax to fall, so she can get back together with the person you suspect is the father of her baby, the man she really loves, the man who went to the far edges of young, stupid, wild, and unstable when she chose the other guy out of left field.  He's still off balance, but he's growing up, becoming a responsible person, the kind of person who can do what's best for the people he loves even if that doesn't lead to his own personal happiness.

Lady Knight

Lady Knight: One of the things I love about this series is the truth that being entrusted with protecting people is hard, dangerous, often unglamorous work, and the people you're sacrificing yourself for are frequently, er, ungrateful at best.  Then there's the youth aspect.  Kel is relatively young to be given the responsibility that she is given.  It's a really tough job, honestly, but those who have been helping her train and watching her grow know that she can handle it.  She's been dealing with hostility for her gender for quite a while, so having people be hostile more because of her age is somewhat novel.  Her development as a good leader is compelling even as her road is hard.  And in the end, her commitment to protecting the small ones who cannot protect themselves is what saves everyone.

Squire

(Protector of the Small) Squire: Oh, Raoul. You still crack me up every time you give variations of your little speech about the glory and glamour of being a knight (that there really isn't much, and it's a lot of hard, dangerous work, and nobody really thanks you for the slogging part of it). I love the way the characters in the Tortall universe cross over. It's been a while since we last met Raoul, and he has done a lot of living in between the Alanna books and these. I really want to know what happened in between, but in a lot of ways, these book series are a woman's world (at least as far as the author usually goes), so it remains a mystery. And that's okay because Raoul is great.

I love that the skills that Kel has been developing and the talents she has start to shine publicly here as she grows up. Jousting. Sigh. No way.

Page

(Protector of the Small) Page: No more special (bad) treatment for Kel. She's a legitimate page, and she's still taking on the protecting of the small (the new squires, animals, maids, etc.). Neal is still great, though his constant crushes are wearing. Kel continues to be practical, laconic, self-contained, and heroic.

"It's just--"she shrugged. "No place is perfect."
---
"She had trouble nodding off that night. She couldn't get rid of her anger with Vinson and with a world in which servants didn't matter. It wasn't right." 

Whenever I read the Alanna books (Pierce's first series), I sometimes find myself wondering how awesome they would be if she re-wrote them now in this time of YA bounty when she's allowed to write a single book longer than the Alanna quartet. How rich the characterization, how lively the world would be!

I don't find myself thinking that so much about the Protector of the Small books. Their more compact length sort of fits Kel. She's very reserved but also somewhat straightforward; she gets to the point and then finishes.  She doesn't say any more than she has to.  She just lets her actions speak.  As a result, the briskness of her books does not necessarily bother me. They don't feel as abridged as Alanna's books. I love reading an author's books in order and watching the author progress.  : )

Yes, I seriously read the Protector of the Small books again

(Protector of the Small) First Test: I like Kel.  She's just so practical.  About everything, really.  She understands choices and consequences.  And then she grits her teeth, makes the choices, and takes the consequences, no matter how unfair.  I like that some of the villains are really villainous for reasons that make sense.  I like that some of the good guys have to make tough choices they don't like because of politics.  And I like that one major antagonist is just a war hero who really thinks he's doing the right thing.  I like that Kel succeeds because of who she is (how she was raised, her innate skills and talents and guts, and her willingness to work hard).

My first mystery in a long time: Iron Lake by William Kent Krueger

b Iron Lake: I had forgotten the reason why it is bad for me to listen to audiobooks: I can't stop.  With books, I have to stop.  I mean, you can't sit at your cube at work reading a book instead of doing your work, but you CAN listen to the audiobook disc that you had to stop at an awkward moment at the end of your commute.  And then the next one.  And maybe the next one.  It's a long day, you're doing tedious work that doesn't require much of your brain, and you can handle it.  And you actually have the book, so when you get home, you can binge and read it.  Sigh.
 
This was a compelling read.  Don't believe the back of the book, because it is full of lies.  It follows a former-sheriff protagonist who's kind of reached rock bottom.  He's lost his job, his best friend is dead, he's separated from his wife and children, he's committing adultery and feeling guilty about it, and Christmas is coming up.  And then someone ends up dead and someone else ends up missing, and  even though it's not his job, Cork O'Connor can't seem to stop trying to find out the truth, no matter how painful it is.

Throw in a lot of tension between the whites in the town and the local native Americans on the reservation, politics, betrayal, murder, adultery, mistrust, and a Catholic priest nicknamed St. Kawasaki, and you have a book full of rich characters, landscapes, history, and culture that is pretty outstanding for a first novel.  I might actually recommend that you try to check out the audiobook because a lot of the names and words will be difficult to pronounce correctly without it.  Also, you may learn the correct pronunciation of words you've been pronouncing wrong for years. 

trusting authors and being rewarded

I am an easy reader, a trusting reader.  When I start a book, I have a shining, innate belief in the skill of the author.  Every dangling bit will be addressed  somehow in the end.  This question I have, or this line of dialogue that just doesn't make sense in the world of the story: these are here for a reason.  I trust the author!  It is really gratifying when that trust is rewarded.  And pretty rare.

I've been reading this series for a while, and there were these moments of jarring incongruousness, flashes of something that just didn't fit, moments of unanticipated tenderness that really threw me for a loop in the midst of this incredibly dark and intensely brutal story.  And this time I had the gratifying experience of watching things play out in accordance with those observations I had made.  I was thrilled.  It wasn't the twist I was anticipating, but it was a twist (two actually, by golly, and they were doozies! 

Of course, I immediately went back and re-read everything in the light of each new set of revelations (not a time-consuming task since we're early in the prologue, still, apparently), and it was really glorious.  There are still lots of questions (so many questions), but I feel like I can trust this author to sensibly address them in the future. 

Not that I'm expecting perfection.  I can fully trust an author right up until they totally bungle the ending and still feel pleased with the overall experience (if exasperated that the ending funked).  I am not looking for the perfect book, the flawless author.  Or maybe I am, and that quest is what keeps me reading the varying degrees of successfully-told stories around me.   Maybe I should say I don't demand perfection all the time, but I love it when I see it.  So I keep looking for it and finding brilliant flashes of it, and that is why I keep reading.

Blurry glasses and crying books

The other day, I put on my glasses, and they were just blurred beyond belief.  I was like, "What on earth?!  I just washed these a couple of days ago."  Then I remembered, "Oh, right.  And then I read that book where I cried for roughly 350 pages."  At the beginning, I remember wondering, "Is she seriously going to make me cry through this whole book?  Like, seriously the entire time?" And she didn't.  She gave me a bit of a reprieve after I thought the character had died and everyone had started to grieve and deal with other life-threatening matters at hand, and that other character I hated finally, finally died, and then more sad things of different varieties happened, and then there was that fan-pandering (but believable-within-the-world) happy resolution which involved more, additional crying.  For Pete's sake . . .  

It's possible the problem was that I haven't read many books lately, and I needed the crying (no matter how slim the justification).  : )

Rereading L'Engle

"When we read stories like L’Engle’s as adults, we are in many ways handicapped. They’re a tougher sell than they were when we read them in our youth, because a lot of us have lost that faith. We do not believe life is always worth the struggle. We fear that relationships aren’t worth the pain. Or, like Zachary Grey, we’re bored with life — “So bored it hurts like a toothache.” We lack the childlike trust, the sense of wonder it takes to enter into the kingdom of a book. I believe that’s related somehow to the reluctance we sometimes have to enter fully into our own, present lives." - Sarah Zarr in the LA Review of Books

This whole essay is a beautiful piece of writing.  It's insightful and lovely, warm and distinct.  It makes me want to reread books and bump up the item on my to do list that says, "Read everything L'Engle ever wrote."  It's specific and general at the same time.  (Genius, I tell you.  It should be in textbooks!)  As long as you read books as a child or teen and have ever gone back and reread them later, even if you haven't read any of the books about the Austins, this essay will still make sense.  (Of course, if you are familiar with L'Engle's work, it will be even more spectacular.)

One of the things I love about rereading books is that sometimes they are completely different books because I am a completely different person.  The Vorkosigan Saga is like that for me.  (For example, the first few times I read the novella "Borders of Infinity, " I thought it was good.  Then there was this one time in grad school when I read it, and it was just brilliant and transcendent.  And it stayed so for several years after that.)  And Ender's Game.  And the Bible (particular books).

I suspect this kind of wrestling with the text when you are a different person in a different place is easier if the books are "adult" books even if you first read them as a 12-year-old.  I agree that L'Engle always put a tremendous amount of faith in her readers.  I didn't really feel talked down to, whether I was reading A Swiftly Tilting Planet or Meet the Austins. But there is still a slight difference in the experience of going back to read them again as an older person.  Zarr really captures some of that in her essay.

And Wikipedia wants us all to know that "In 2013, a crater on Mercury was named after L'Engle."