When my life is a bit too busy or the illnesses eat my energy, I’m going to share with you something about my books or something I wrote for another time in another place. Today it’s the latter, and I feel wildly historical, so here’s an article I wrote for BiblioBuffet in 2011. Why did I choose this? I’d love to know what books you’d use to illustrate some of the things you read for. I want to know what books I’d place, 15 years on and to find out if my reading has changed in nature, but for that I need energy. One day. Today is about the books I read one week, back in 2011, and why I enjoyed them.
I love lists. Today I have a list that’s ten items long. It could have been five, or a hundred, or even a thousand. I wanted to tell you ten things I love about books and illustrate them using some of my recent reading. Some of the recent reading is hot off the press, and some is less so. I’ve chosen books from the speculative fiction end of the reading spectrum. This might be because they reflect my reading recently. It’s just possible. Let me admit, up front, that I know some of these writers. I wish I knew them all, but I know just a couple. Once there is something in someone’s writing that you love, the likelihood is quite high that when you meet the person in question, that you will get on. I’ve only given examples from writers whose books struck me for these precise reasons before I ever met the writer in question.
My ten things:
1. I love exploring someone else’s politics through their fiction, especially when that fiction is very fine. My book for this is Ursula Le Guin’s The Dispossessed. It’s all about freedom and the life of the mind and the limitations that we humans place upon ourselves. A lot of political books written in the 1970s have dated, for life has changed since the seventies, but this one hasn’t dated at all. It’s still vibrant and forceful.
2. Lyrical writing couched secretly inside a genre novel. It takes me by surprise and gives me a sense of the world being right, every time. So many of my favourite writers have this flavour in their writing: Hope Mirrlees, Alma Alexander, Mervyn Peake. My example for today, however, is Daniel Fox’s Dragon in Chains because he manages to take a non-Western universe and make it feel particular and its own, while still maintaining that lyricism.
3. Sometimes language and concept and personality infuse a writer’s work. Cordawiner Smith and Roger Zelazy are two writers who don’t seem to be able to write a word of fiction without that word somehow defining the universe anew. My example book is probably the least of all the writings of both authors: Roger Zelazny’s The Last Defender of Camelot. It is, however, the one I re-read most recently. When I get some time, I intend to re-read the whole Amber cycle, plus Smith’s Norstrilia books. Time is the limiting factor. Their worlds and their words haunt me even when I don’t go near the writing for years on end.
4. The historian deep inside me (well, maybe not so deep, in fact maybe just the one who shares the same skin as the rest of me) loves a book that explores another world that breaks with what we accept as normal reality and that does so in such a way that the reader accepts things that are unacceptable or understands things that are usually conceptually too difficult. Not that I want to accept the unacceptable, but that I really like writing that’s strong backing world building that’s even stronger. Aliette de Bodard’s Harbinger of the Storm is today’s example of that. An Aztec society, with gods and belief systems and treatment of women that are very uncomfortable for me, and yet I must read and continue reading for she makes it real. Lord of the Flies was the same but more so ‑ hate the world, but must believe it can exist.
5. There is happiness in small things. Grumpy fairy tales and twisted minds. When I was a child I read James Thurber’s The 13 Clocks and The Wonderful O. They rang truer for me than most other children’s literature at that time. The other book that I fell in love with (and have a lion’s head doorknocker right now, to prove that doorknockers are crucial to grumpy magical existence) is William Makepeace Thackeray’s The Rose and the Ring. The bizarre fairytale is still my favourite book by Thackeray, and this despite me having read Vanity Fair at least four times.
6. There are warped and twisted books for adults, also. There is Shriek. An Afterword by Jeff VanderMeer and there is almost anything by James Enge. I was reading Enge’s The Wolf Age and I finally realised that it’s not the sharpness of these books or even their views on society that make them so delightful, it’s their inventiveness. Enge’s imagination is always one step beyond my mind’s reasoning ‑ he manages to think of places I’ve never thought of and make fantasy worlds look fresh and new.
7. There are trilogies. There are sets of trilogies. What there are, too, are occasional authors who manage to write one big book that has been broken up into parts that make coherent narrative sense but that are nevertheless mere aspects of one big book. I always find one of these near my desk, for I have a weakness for them. Right now there are two books by Joe Abercrombie, and there is Ravensoul, part 4 of James Barclay’s Legends of the Raven.
8. I love it when the people of two worlds meet. There’s always a book in my vicinity that shows the clash of cultures or someone who was brought up in two worlds or is touched by two worlds and has difficult choices ahead. The most recent book that touched on this (and leaves it unresolved ‑ I must read the next book!) is Jon Sprunk’s Shadow’s Lure.
9. Steampunk! Right now, for me, steampunk is alone enough to make me look twice at something. From the reasonably standard romantic approach to machines and villains and changing worlds expressed in Andrew P Mayer’s The Falling Machine to the steampunk romance of Katie MacAlister, but the best encapsulation right now, for me, personally, is in the work of Cherie Priest.
10. New approaches to something that I thought I knew. Eye-opening and making the whole world new. This is the most exciting writing of all. My example is Kafakaesque, and I shall write about it properly in due course. Some books demand attention of their own, and this is one. The editors’ genius in placing Carol Emshwiller, Kate Wilhelm and Theodora Goss in the same volume make it something that shifts what thought I knew about short stories. This is my current reading, and it’s wonderful.
Books mentioned in this column:
The 13 Clocks, by James Thurber (NYR Children’s Collection, 2008) 978-1590172759
Changer of Days, Alma Alexander (HarperVoyager, 2005) 978-0060765750
The Dispossessed, by Ursula Le Guin (HarperVoyager, 1994) 978-0061054884
Dragon in Chains, by Daniel Fox (Del Rey, 2009) 978-0345503053
The Falling Machine, by Andrew P Mayer (Pyr, 2011) 978-1616143756
Harbinger of the Storm, by Aliette de Bodard (Angry Robot, 2011) 978-0857660763
Kafakaesque, John Kessel and James Patrick Kelly (ed) (Tachyon, 2011) 978 1 61696 049 0
The Last Defender of Camelot, Roger Zelazny (ibooks, 2007) 978-1596871076
Lord of the Flies, by William Golding (Perigee Trade, 2003) 978-0399529207
Lud-in-the-Mist, Hope Mirrlees (Cold Spring Press, 2005) 978-1593600419
Ravensoul, by James Barclay (Pyr, 2011) 978-1616143817
The Rose and the Ring, by WM Thackeray (Folio Society, 1964)
Shadow’s Lure, By Jon Sprunk (Pyr, 2011) 978-1616143718
Shriek. An Afterword, by Jeff VanderMeer (Tor, 2007) 978-0765314666
The Wolf Age, by James Enge (Pyr, 2010) 978-1616142438
The Wonderful O, by James Thurber (NYR Children’s Collection, 2009) 978-1590173091
My writers group tries to do a retreat every year, and since we live in six states and three time zones, it’s always a little complicated to figure out where and when. This year we opted for Minneapolis, a place where it’s possible to get a sufficiently large vacation rental at a reasonable price and one that’s not too hard to get to from all our locations.