The Mechanical
Ian Tregillis
440pgs
Copy: ARC
Read: 27 April 2015
Spoilers: as few as I could
Recommend to: People who like to think and like sci-fi; fans of Asimov; fans of Susanna Clarke; maybe fans of George R.R. Martin; if you liked "The Dark Tower" series
So Susanna Clarke readers and Asimov readers actually tend to be pretty different. So are "Song of Fire and Ice" and "The Dark Tower". You've got alternate history vs. robotic future and two epic fantasy series (complete with loads of sex) written in completely different styles and settings. What makes The Mechanical so interesting is that it pays homage to all of these disparate themes and styles while still remaining completely individual and distinctive.
Tregillis has created a world that differs from ours in that the Dutch became the great world power, not on the power of trade or sail, but due to their mystic creation of mechanical slaves. Created by the inclusive and terrifying Alchemist Guild, these Clakkers are controlled by the Guild and the royal family and rented out to wealthy families or for production needs. These Clakkers, despite independent thought and an underground language, are unable to rebel against the orders of their owners--indeed, any order creates an imperative pain until that order is carried out. They live hundreds of years, trapped within their own bodies.
Despite these geases, some Clakkers speak to one another of Free Will and others mysteriously develop it. The Alchemists destroy them as soon as they are discovered, throwing them into the great Forge.
Against this background, the Dutch are increasing their territory in the New World, fighting against the last stronghold of the French court. In New France, the female spymaster (the Tallyrand) Bernice, Vimcomtess is desperate to maintain their foothold in the world and to fight back against the insatiable power of the Clakker backed Dutch, while also fighting against her own court politics. On the other side, the female head of the Clakker police force and head torturer (cleverly called Tuinier--chief gardener), Anastasia Bell begins to wield a terrifying new technology that questions the very existence of any kind of Free Will at all. Jax, a lowly servitor mechanical, is thrown into this complex tangle with about the same effect as throwing in a grenade.
While the basic premise of the novel is impressive in and of itself, Tregillis handles questions of religion and freedom with ease and grace. He is thought provoking without being distracting from the excitement of the story. Tregillis also creates powerful, yet dissimilar female characters: Bernice and Anastasia are both powerful women without having their femininity stripped away. Bernice, with her mind in the gutter and mouth like sailor, understands and uses sex as a means to an end; she also makes believable mistakes that aren't "punishments" for her sexual behavior. Although Anastasia Bell is harder to read, since we are never granted a 3rd person limited view into her thoughts, she clearly uses her delicate femininity as a kind of intimidating opposition to her job. She looks like a lady: she authorizes acts that devils would find a bit much. Tregillis has joined a unique club among sci-fi/fantasy writers: authors (male and female) that are able to create believable and human characters of both genders. Lets cross our fingers he can keep it up for the sequels.
Crossposted: Life Piled on Life, Librarything
Showing posts with label ARC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ARC. Show all posts
13 May 2015
11 May 2015
Plants!
The Triumph of Seeds
Thor Hanson
215 pages
Copy: ARC
Read: late April (finished April 30)
Spoilers: there are seeds...and they sprout and they occasionally get eaten by animals
I read this book over the course of approximately two weeks, as I wrapped up my Masters' Thesis. I would snatch a few minutes of reading here and there (mostly at breakfast), but rarely got the chance to read large chunks all at once. I think it is a testament to the author's skill that I never became confused, never lost track of where I was, and never even contemplated putting the book down permanently. (I always find it much easier to abandon non-fiction during times of great stress than fiction. I also think this tendency contributes to my exaggerated enjoyment of essays. It's so much easier to take non-fiction in digestible pieces, rather than entire books, when the world weighs a little heavy.)
At any rate, I very much enjoyed this book. It is in the same school of science-writing as Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything (which I have read several times with great enthusiasm). However, I know this type of science-writing is not for everyone--Hanson is chatty, and relies on personal anecdotes, but his science is not always top-notch. That being said, he has done an excellent job of making botany approachable. Botany is a fascinating, albeit alien, world; it is a smart and rare author who can translate that foreignness into something tangible and understandable.
The book is divided into fourteen chapters; each one pays special attention to a different seed, or set of related seeds. Hanson chooses his seeds wisely and makes good use of each seed's unique characteristics. The downside of this organization is the sheer amount left out. I would love to have heard more about flowers; I don't think he spent nearly enough time on trees; I wish there had been some practical advice. However, for a short book, Hanson does an admirable job of summarizing the basics. Had he tried to include more information, I am sure the book would have become long, tedious, and utterly unmarketable.
Now, I will declare myself a gardener (a very, very, very amateurish one, however), which means I no doubt have a biased opinion of this book. I don't quite know what non-gardeners would think of it. I have the feeling that farmers, in particular, will find it rather light reading--if not utterly anathema to their way of life. Hanson is a dilettante (and I say that knowing full well that he received his PhD after conducting research on seeds). However, it is clear that writing is his primary concentration; science comes second; gardening (both productive and non-productive) comes a distant third. I don't say this to disparage Hanson. I say this as a way to caution you; handing this book to your botanist friend will not garner you brownie points. Handing it to your farmer friend will probably result in a fight.
So who would I recommend handing this to? Home gardeners--men and women who have little vegetable patches, and flowering window boxes, and back patios covered in well-tended green things. I don't think this book is going to convert anyone, necessarily; Hanson is preaching to a fairly well-established choir. The Triumph of Seeds would make an excellent Mothers' Day or Fathers' Day present; it'd make a good birthday present. Come wintertime, it will make an exceptional palliative for those gardeners slowly being driven insane by nasty weather. (Hand it to them along with several seed catalogs, and perhaps a new trowel, and I promise you will make a new friend.) Don't hand it to someone who hates the outdoors and refuses to garden; it will only gather dust.
Thor Hanson
215 pages
Copy: ARC
Read: late April (finished April 30)
Spoilers: there are seeds...and they sprout and they occasionally get eaten by animals
I read this book over the course of approximately two weeks, as I wrapped up my Masters' Thesis. I would snatch a few minutes of reading here and there (mostly at breakfast), but rarely got the chance to read large chunks all at once. I think it is a testament to the author's skill that I never became confused, never lost track of where I was, and never even contemplated putting the book down permanently. (I always find it much easier to abandon non-fiction during times of great stress than fiction. I also think this tendency contributes to my exaggerated enjoyment of essays. It's so much easier to take non-fiction in digestible pieces, rather than entire books, when the world weighs a little heavy.)
At any rate, I very much enjoyed this book. It is in the same school of science-writing as Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything (which I have read several times with great enthusiasm). However, I know this type of science-writing is not for everyone--Hanson is chatty, and relies on personal anecdotes, but his science is not always top-notch. That being said, he has done an excellent job of making botany approachable. Botany is a fascinating, albeit alien, world; it is a smart and rare author who can translate that foreignness into something tangible and understandable.
The book is divided into fourteen chapters; each one pays special attention to a different seed, or set of related seeds. Hanson chooses his seeds wisely and makes good use of each seed's unique characteristics. The downside of this organization is the sheer amount left out. I would love to have heard more about flowers; I don't think he spent nearly enough time on trees; I wish there had been some practical advice. However, for a short book, Hanson does an admirable job of summarizing the basics. Had he tried to include more information, I am sure the book would have become long, tedious, and utterly unmarketable.
Now, I will declare myself a gardener (a very, very, very amateurish one, however), which means I no doubt have a biased opinion of this book. I don't quite know what non-gardeners would think of it. I have the feeling that farmers, in particular, will find it rather light reading--if not utterly anathema to their way of life. Hanson is a dilettante (and I say that knowing full well that he received his PhD after conducting research on seeds). However, it is clear that writing is his primary concentration; science comes second; gardening (both productive and non-productive) comes a distant third. I don't say this to disparage Hanson. I say this as a way to caution you; handing this book to your botanist friend will not garner you brownie points. Handing it to your farmer friend will probably result in a fight.
So who would I recommend handing this to? Home gardeners--men and women who have little vegetable patches, and flowering window boxes, and back patios covered in well-tended green things. I don't think this book is going to convert anyone, necessarily; Hanson is preaching to a fairly well-established choir. The Triumph of Seeds would make an excellent Mothers' Day or Fathers' Day present; it'd make a good birthday present. Come wintertime, it will make an exceptional palliative for those gardeners slowly being driven insane by nasty weather. (Hand it to them along with several seed catalogs, and perhaps a new trowel, and I promise you will make a new friend.) Don't hand it to someone who hates the outdoors and refuses to garden; it will only gather dust.
17 April 2015
People should remember teen readers aren't stupid
Seeker
Arwen Elys Dayton
448 pgs
Copy: ARC
Read: Ides of March. Ish.
Spoilers: Lots: it is hard to criticize in loose terms.
Recommend to: People who liked Matched and Divergent
I didn't hate this book. In fact, I found it a decent read: entertaining, if not thought provoking; interesting, if not entrancing. Set in a vaguely futuristic world, with vaguely mystical elements, Seeker features Quin Kincaid as the intrepid, yet suffering heroine. Quin has been raised by her family in an isolated estate in Scotland, trained to become a Seeker. What Seekers seek and why is purposefully shrouded in confusion at the beginning of the novel. Unfortunately, even after her lover John's dismissal from the training program, a grim truth has been revealed to Quin and her (second) cousin Shinobu, "after [which] there is no going back" (back matter). Acting as a watcher and occasional interference for the young people is an unaging figure called Young Dread; named Maud she is plotting the downfall of the abusive Middle Dread and causing mischief while awaiting the return of Old Dread.
The adventure is good, propped up by the well-written and interesting sections featuring Maud. However, the world-building, character-building, and, indeed, set-building, fall down at the slightest hint of a breeze. The story is told in alternating third-person points of view; the world, close to our own, features weapons which open doorways to different places, which are owned by families of Seekers. (A major issue in the novel: it is never made clear what exactly they are supposed to be Seeking)
Let the spoilers begin.
Firstly: Quin. Her character development relies mainly on a forced, wooden kind of passion (portrayed by a repetition of fact, rather than sentiment, without any backing of emotional cues). Upon escaping--barely--from an attack upon the estate (instigated by John, her love-interest) Quin chooses to forget all that she has done and her past. While I am not against amnesia as a plot point, Dayton treats the issue with the same cookie cutter attitude as the evolution of Quin's romances ("I love him!" "I love him, but he attacked my family!" "I kinda remember who he is, even though I have amnesia!" "I love him now that I kinda remember him!" "I love my (second) cousin, I have all along!").
This clunky character development extends to John and, to a slightly lesser extent, Shinobu. John spends most of his life thinking a set series of thoughts, all boiling down too: "I'm not doing anything too bad, not if it is for the sake of good." Shinobu is given a few more interesting plot/character developments. I appreciated his drug addiction phase--he actively chooses drug use as means of forgetting (while Quin passively forgets everything in the middle of being mystically healed: a pattern of male vs. female agency that repeats throughout the novel).
The book is redeemed by the aforementioned Young Dread, whose well-written and almost lyrical passages make the other chapters fail in comparison. Maud is patient, clever, complex, and driven; she easily steals the stage from the flighty Quin. One can believe Maud has been trained over centuries to become the killer and victim that she is; picturing Quin with her "whip-sword" (a device which changes into different weapons on command) is almost impossible.
The ending of the novel leaves it open for a sequel (because God forbid we have a stand-alone YA SF story). It is a book that some teens will like, while others will feel cheated by the shallow characters and the bare-bones world-building. Since the movie rights have been sold, and the publisher (Penguin Random House) has spent a great deal of time and money promoting this book, one can only wonder if today's teen readers are nonintellectual and incurious or if writers, publishers, and movie executives merely think they are.
Crossposted: Life Piled on Life, Librarything
Arwen Elys Dayton
448 pgs
Copy: ARC
Read: Ides of March. Ish.
Spoilers: Lots: it is hard to criticize in loose terms.
Recommend to: People who liked Matched and Divergent
I didn't hate this book. In fact, I found it a decent read: entertaining, if not thought provoking; interesting, if not entrancing. Set in a vaguely futuristic world, with vaguely mystical elements, Seeker features Quin Kincaid as the intrepid, yet suffering heroine. Quin has been raised by her family in an isolated estate in Scotland, trained to become a Seeker. What Seekers seek and why is purposefully shrouded in confusion at the beginning of the novel. Unfortunately, even after her lover John's dismissal from the training program, a grim truth has been revealed to Quin and her (second) cousin Shinobu, "after [which] there is no going back" (back matter). Acting as a watcher and occasional interference for the young people is an unaging figure called Young Dread; named Maud she is plotting the downfall of the abusive Middle Dread and causing mischief while awaiting the return of Old Dread.
The adventure is good, propped up by the well-written and interesting sections featuring Maud. However, the world-building, character-building, and, indeed, set-building, fall down at the slightest hint of a breeze. The story is told in alternating third-person points of view; the world, close to our own, features weapons which open doorways to different places, which are owned by families of Seekers. (A major issue in the novel: it is never made clear what exactly they are supposed to be Seeking)
Let the spoilers begin.
Firstly: Quin. Her character development relies mainly on a forced, wooden kind of passion (portrayed by a repetition of fact, rather than sentiment, without any backing of emotional cues). Upon escaping--barely--from an attack upon the estate (instigated by John, her love-interest) Quin chooses to forget all that she has done and her past. While I am not against amnesia as a plot point, Dayton treats the issue with the same cookie cutter attitude as the evolution of Quin's romances ("I love him!" "I love him, but he attacked my family!" "I kinda remember who he is, even though I have amnesia!" "I love him now that I kinda remember him!" "I love my (second) cousin, I have all along!").
This clunky character development extends to John and, to a slightly lesser extent, Shinobu. John spends most of his life thinking a set series of thoughts, all boiling down too: "I'm not doing anything too bad, not if it is for the sake of good." Shinobu is given a few more interesting plot/character developments. I appreciated his drug addiction phase--he actively chooses drug use as means of forgetting (while Quin passively forgets everything in the middle of being mystically healed: a pattern of male vs. female agency that repeats throughout the novel).
The book is redeemed by the aforementioned Young Dread, whose well-written and almost lyrical passages make the other chapters fail in comparison. Maud is patient, clever, complex, and driven; she easily steals the stage from the flighty Quin. One can believe Maud has been trained over centuries to become the killer and victim that she is; picturing Quin with her "whip-sword" (a device which changes into different weapons on command) is almost impossible.
The ending of the novel leaves it open for a sequel (because God forbid we have a stand-alone YA SF story). It is a book that some teens will like, while others will feel cheated by the shallow characters and the bare-bones world-building. Since the movie rights have been sold, and the publisher (Penguin Random House) has spent a great deal of time and money promoting this book, one can only wonder if today's teen readers are nonintellectual and incurious or if writers, publishers, and movie executives merely think they are.
Crossposted: Life Piled on Life, Librarything
03 April 2015
Over-scheduled girls are the new bored boys
The Lost Track of Time
Paige Britt
320 page
Copy: ARC, publication date: 31 March 2015
Read: not sure; probably back in January
Spoilers: A fair bit, including ones for The Phantom Tollbooth
Crossposted: Life Piled on Life, Librarything
I adored this book. Scholastic has really hit it out of the park for the 2015 (more on this in later reviews), but this one has the making of a classic. Remember The Phantom Tollbooth? Or, at any rate, hopefully you remember it? (When I finished reading this book, and gushed about it to my best friend, she informed me that she hadn't actually read Tollbooth, and if she were living near me, I would have thrown copies at her. As it was, I just mailed one)
Most of the point of Phantom Tollbooth, aside from the word-play--complete with vocabulary: that's how I learned words like dodecahedron and din and doldrum and a lots of words starting with letters other than d--and the sheer adventure of the story, was that one needs to use one's mind. It was aimed at teaching young readers that boredom is laziness and that intelligence creates the best kind of adventure. It is, in short, truly inspiring.
But in multiple re-readings over time, I came up with a few quibbles. Firstly, the main character Milo is a boy. Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with being a boy. I suppose we need a few of those hanging around, and, frankly, at this point in children's literature, it is actually becoming more and more difficult to find books for intelligent boys who don't like spaceships or Greek gods. However, Tollbooth was published in 1961, and the only female characters are the Princesses of Rhyme and Reason, who have disappeared and are waiting to be rescued up in their Castle in the Air. Although I love the book, we don't need more princesses-in-need-of-rescue and, to be perfectly frank, why the fuck didn't a pair of sisters named Rhyme and Reason rescue themselves? (In more sympathetic moments, I suspect that they were taking a nice vacation and Milo's rescue was something of a nuisance). So: feminism is quibble one.
Quibble two: from what I can see, as neither child nor parent, kids don't seem to have any time to be bored. Sports, and lessons, and enforced hobbies; camps, clubs, classes; the horror that is smart phones: I don't actually think that middle class kids with well meaning parents actually have time to get bored. Getting bored is really important--as long as one doesn't get too bored, of course. Getting bored is what makes one's imagination kick into gear, it's what makes us go on adventures. No one goes on a true adventure because it would look good on a college transcript.
The Lost Track of Time addresses both of these quibbles. To be honest, my beef with Tollbooth was mostly subconscious until I came across this book. Penelope, the intrepid adventurer, suffers under a well-meaning organizational development type mother who runs her daughter's life like Penelope is another event to plan. Their various schedules--during which every fifteen minutes is accounted for--might be humorous to the target audience (8-12), but was verging on tear-jerking for me. To never have any free time! It is bad enough as an adult(ish), but for a child! Heartbreaking and all too much a part of reality.
Penelope, like Milo, escapes her predicament into an allegorical world of word-play and adventure, complete with anthropomorphized puns (my favorite was the Wild Bore), and a mythic figure to be rescued (The Great Moodler, moodling being day-dreaming). Her journey teaches the reader that schedules, just like boredom, can always go overboard.
Recommended for over-scheduled girls (if they can sneak away from their mothers to read it); for grandmothers to give to over-scheduled girls; and for anyone who has been an over-scheduled girl (warning: in that case, there could be tears.)
-Mercutia
Paige Britt
320 page
Copy: ARC, publication date: 31 March 2015
Read: not sure; probably back in January
Spoilers: A fair bit, including ones for The Phantom Tollbooth
Crossposted: Life Piled on Life, Librarything
I adored this book. Scholastic has really hit it out of the park for the 2015 (more on this in later reviews), but this one has the making of a classic. Remember The Phantom Tollbooth? Or, at any rate, hopefully you remember it? (When I finished reading this book, and gushed about it to my best friend, she informed me that she hadn't actually read Tollbooth, and if she were living near me, I would have thrown copies at her. As it was, I just mailed one)
Most of the point of Phantom Tollbooth, aside from the word-play--complete with vocabulary: that's how I learned words like dodecahedron and din and doldrum and a lots of words starting with letters other than d--and the sheer adventure of the story, was that one needs to use one's mind. It was aimed at teaching young readers that boredom is laziness and that intelligence creates the best kind of adventure. It is, in short, truly inspiring.
But in multiple re-readings over time, I came up with a few quibbles. Firstly, the main character Milo is a boy. Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with being a boy. I suppose we need a few of those hanging around, and, frankly, at this point in children's literature, it is actually becoming more and more difficult to find books for intelligent boys who don't like spaceships or Greek gods. However, Tollbooth was published in 1961, and the only female characters are the Princesses of Rhyme and Reason, who have disappeared and are waiting to be rescued up in their Castle in the Air. Although I love the book, we don't need more princesses-in-need-of-rescue and, to be perfectly frank, why the fuck didn't a pair of sisters named Rhyme and Reason rescue themselves? (In more sympathetic moments, I suspect that they were taking a nice vacation and Milo's rescue was something of a nuisance). So: feminism is quibble one.
Quibble two: from what I can see, as neither child nor parent, kids don't seem to have any time to be bored. Sports, and lessons, and enforced hobbies; camps, clubs, classes; the horror that is smart phones: I don't actually think that middle class kids with well meaning parents actually have time to get bored. Getting bored is really important--as long as one doesn't get too bored, of course. Getting bored is what makes one's imagination kick into gear, it's what makes us go on adventures. No one goes on a true adventure because it would look good on a college transcript.
The Lost Track of Time addresses both of these quibbles. To be honest, my beef with Tollbooth was mostly subconscious until I came across this book. Penelope, the intrepid adventurer, suffers under a well-meaning organizational development type mother who runs her daughter's life like Penelope is another event to plan. Their various schedules--during which every fifteen minutes is accounted for--might be humorous to the target audience (8-12), but was verging on tear-jerking for me. To never have any free time! It is bad enough as an adult(ish), but for a child! Heartbreaking and all too much a part of reality.
Penelope, like Milo, escapes her predicament into an allegorical world of word-play and adventure, complete with anthropomorphized puns (my favorite was the Wild Bore), and a mythic figure to be rescued (The Great Moodler, moodling being day-dreaming). Her journey teaches the reader that schedules, just like boredom, can always go overboard.
Recommended for over-scheduled girls (if they can sneak away from their mothers to read it); for grandmothers to give to over-scheduled girls; and for anyone who has been an over-scheduled girl (warning: in that case, there could be tears.)
-Mercutia
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