It's difficult to recommend this book, because it has a structure so unlike anything I've read before–Stross manages to tie together 6 or 7 stories, all of which can (and did, I think) stand on their own, without getting repetitive or confusing, and then end it all with a bang. This would make a great comic book serial, in that sense, if drawings of Matroishka brains could be interesting enough. You will likely either hate or love this book; I loved it.
Got this on a recommendation from Warren Ellis, so it's fitting there is a quick Transmet reference (don't blink!).
Also: Keep an eye on the cat.
These stories just don't resonate with me, and for all intents and purposes, they “should”. I mean, heck, one of my favorite movies is Boys on the Side, one of my favorite comics is Shade the Changing Man–both of which are kind of variations on the same themes of complex relationships between friends and lovers of different genders. But this just doesn't do it for me. I'm getting caricature instead of character. It's a useful text for the Gender in Comics class, I suppose, and I'll be interested to watch the interview with the author for the class, but this series just doesn't do it for me. I'd rather read Dykes to Watch Out For or something again...
I enjoyed this one quite a bit–the author notes his own neuroses as he travels among the folks who study psychopathy, who rail against psychology (he got to hang out in Hubbard's mansion), folks diagnosed as psychotic; this isn't a polemic against diagnosing folks as psychotic, but rather a journey through a land that makes it clear that “psychotic” is a spectrum.
About halfway done, and I think this is my fave Butler book so far, out of a handful of books I've read by her. It's got a very simple plot structure, but a fascinating central character.
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An odd thing happened as I finished up the book–it's a great start to a larger tale, but the writing weakened as it went on. Lots of wonderful ideas here, and it's sadly refreshing to read a book with lots of people of color, but in the end the execution is lacking, for me, in a way that all of the other Butler books I've read weren't lacking. It seems like a sketch for a story, rather than a story.
I do love the idea of Earthseed as a religion, even though I'm mostly anti-religion, and because of that I'll likely read the second book as well, even though the third book of the trilogy was never written...
I'll add that Butler's dystopia is perhaps a little too realistic for me: I think she sees what is actually coming, which makes reading this book chilling.
I'm about half way through now, and this is one of the best collections of short stories I've read in a long time. Whimsical quite a bit of the time, dark a little bit of the time, and with stories that will stick with me for a very long time, I think.
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This book does not disappoint. It started strong, and each story was as good (at least) as the story before. Can't wait to read more of her stuff.
Gogol's Diary of a Madman is one of my favorite books. This one was definitely worth reading because of some wonderful turns of phrase, and memorable characters, but in the end just didn't resonate with me. The main theme of social critique feels sort of dated–not that we don't still have similar problems, but because the problems are so obvious and ubiquitous; they don't need pointing out or skewering for me at this point.
Two stars is kind of harsh, but this was such a slight memoir. I can tell from Small's writing that she has lots more to say–I'm curious why the editor/publisher encouraged her to tell (mostly) just the facts. The last few pages of reflection are more interesting than any of the insider-porn descriptions (at least to me). Hopefully her next memoir will have more reflection on fewer events...?
I didn't enjoy this book for the first 100 pages, but the voice and tone grew on me slowly. There is quite a bit of ambiguity in the book–an adult telling the story of his childhood, but sometimes in words like a child would use, leaving which person (the younger or older) person is actually narrating up in the air at times. But I enjoyed the ambiguity, eventually, and the descriptions of dealing with severe trauma as a child resonated with me. I even had dreams of being a child again while reading the book, which made me like it even more for the motions it evoked.
There were some issues with the book–the second half felt unfinished, and a jarring change in plot feels forced. The central relationship in the book, between a brother and sister, is abandoned for quite a while and then revisited at the end; it would have been a stronger book if it had centered on that relationship throughout.
This has made me want to read more Richard Ford.
Really enjoying this one so far–the descriptions of what it would be like to be a mind in a purely mechanical body are quite vivid. Also, it's got queer characters, and some naughty bits.
Turns out there are quite a few naughty bits.
Liked this book quite a bit. Pelland has some complex ideas to explore, and she touches on a lot of interesting concepts–I wish that she had explored them a little bit more in-depth, even. I would have edited out at least a few of the “a machine doesn't feel” lines, but other than that, an enjoyable read which got me to think quite a bit about minds and brains.
So far this is an interesting read: Rufus is giving us an almost stream-of-thought take on “being stuck”–including information gleaned from interviews combined with her own take on her own stuck-ness. I like how she flows from examples of others right into her own story, which resonates enough with me to make any review pretty biased. :)
That said, the book definitely has a patchwork kind of structure. I generally prefer more of a definite structure in non-fiction, but her personal reveals are enough to make it worthwhile for me.
Really interesting ideas here so far, though I'm skeptical of the science, possibly in part because I'm not enjoying Lambert's writing style very much–what little humor there is feels forced (and academic-ish), which isn't always a bad thing, but rubs me the wrong way here. I think the book is trying to walk a line between being a self-help book and being a pop-neurology book, and it gets tripped up.
Still, lots of what she has to say is fascinating (especially the function of using one's hands for certain tasks fending off depression), and I look forward to learning more about it all.
I'm liking it. I'm not a “steampunk” genre fan so much, but she really captures the claustrophobia of a walled-in-zombie-gas-ridden Seattle, and you can tell she's actually worn some goggles...
I also like that the central protagonists include a mother and son, and that the good/evil lines are drawn in gray, for the most part (aside from, y'know, the zombies themselves). Minimalist descriptions of the zombies help to add to the tension, as well.
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Loved this one, even though I haven't been a fan of either zombies or steampunk-y stuff in the past. Will continue the series...
Loving this one. Lots of little short stories, disguised as chapters, though each could stand on its own. It's a tough read because of the various senses in which “man crazy” is evoked, including various types of harmful-to-women crazy men, but well worth the pain so far.
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This is a tough one to read, mostly because all of the men in it are pretty reprehensible. But the language is so brutally beautiful, I can't stop.
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And...it just got tougher to read. But well worth it. I love it when Oates is on her game in this way, but I will need to take a break before I read the next one I have of hers...sometimes the brutally honest writing needs some time to settle.