Ry Herman's Blog, page 17

Housecleaning, Day 7

No matter how inexplicable our findings in the closets, I cannot countenance the rumors spreading among the crew that they indicate the existence of an advanced and “evil” civilization that predates our own in this flat.

Even the most disturbing find, a collection of highly detailed molds of human teeth, is not necessarily a sign of ill intent; it could simply be indicative of a culture which attached some religious significance to dentistry. As to the worked metal objects of unknown purpose, there is as of yet no evidence that they are tools, much less technologically advanced tools. They could be artworks, or primitive weapons, or toys for all we know.

Housecleaning, Day 6

The crew was in poor spirits following the death of Alsop and disappearance of Hodgkins, so I organized a rousing game of rugby. Dr. Spivens is currently treating no fewer than seven injuries that were incurred during the festivities, including one exploded spleen, but morale seems much improved.

We have begun laying plans to begin an archeological study of the closets. Who knows what ancient secrets we shall uncover?

Housecleaning, Day 5

Hodgkins disappeared in the night. I fear for our souls.

Housecleaning, Day 4

Great strides have been made in the kitchen, and Smithers’ photographic record of the migratory patterns of tupperware lids is sure to prove a great boon to the scientific community. Yet as the day comes to an end, the work remains incomplete, and many great mysteries remain.

Most disturbing was the discovery of a single, unpaired glove, of unknown provenance, hidden beneath the base of a towering pile of cloth bags. Could it belong to the three-legged man? Does he have only one arm? Or could he have a LEG-ARM?

Hodgkins believes we are cursed.

Whatever the answer, we have lost the daylight, and must bed down for the night. We will search for more answers on the morrow.

Housecleaning, Day 3

Heady with the success of having traversed the living room in a single morning, we have established a base camp in the far closet. As the afternoon draws nigh, we turn our sights upon the kitchen. I fear, though, that in that noisome place the ship of our hubris shall founder upon the rocks of some other apropos metaphor. (Note to self: rewrite that prior to my return and/or death by scurvy.)

Nevertheless, we will proceed apace with but one goal in mind — the flatware.

Housecleaning, Day 2

Catastrophe. During our attempt to make a west face ascent to the top shelf of the “Smelly Closet”, Alsop was buried under an avalanche of coathangers. There is no possibility of retrieving the body.

Housecleaning, Day 1

The journey ahead is daunting, but we shall not falter.

Briefly believed that I had found the mate to the shoe insert discovered in the first hours of the expedition, but further exploration behind the couch revealed a third shoe insert of the same make and size as the others. This adds credence to the hypothesis that a “mysterious three-legged man” has been living underneath the couch.

I will have to apologize to Jenkins for my casual dismissal of this theory prior to our embarkation.

I Baked A Cake

It is pretty.

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Favorite Books — July

Before I get into my favorite books read in July, in the wake of the latest World Con, I want to give a special shout out to some New Zealand SFF authors who’ve written books that I like.

Tamsyn Muir — If there’s one thing I love, it’s SFF novels that drop you into the middle of a fascinating world with minimal explanation or exposition. And when that fascinating world can be described as “queer space necromancers”, well, I’m pretty much sold. GIDEON THE NINTH was great, and I’m looking forward to the sequel.

A.J. Fitzwater — NO MAN’S LAND is an evocative novella with poetic prose. I appreciated the intriguing characters, the magical story, and the look at a slice of New Zealand history.

Elizabeth Knox — The two books of the Dreamhunter Duet, DREAMHUNTER and DREAMQUAKE, are excellent (although I liked the first somewhat better than the second.) Marvelous, atmospheric books with fabulous worldbuilding. They’re sometimes sold in a single volume called The Invisible Road.

Margaret Mahy — THE CHANGEOVER is a great book. Odd, scary, sensuous, lovely. A Carnegie Medal winner.

Katie O’Neill — PRINCESS PRINCESS EVER AFTER is an absolutely charming graphic novel. Really, it’s just super-cute and adorable.

Moving on to books I read in July. The standouts were:

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GIRL, SERPENT, THORN by Melissa Bashardoust

There was and there was not, as all stories begin, a princess cursed to be poisonous to the touch. But for Soraya, who has lived her life hidden away, apart from her family, safe only in her gardens, it’s not just a story.

In far too many books, the protagonist makes mistake after frustrating mistake, driving the reader to distraction over how idiotic they’re being. Much rarer is the book where the protagonist makes mistake after frustrating mistake and the reader thinks, “Yeah … that’s probably what I would have done, too.” This is one of the latter books, keeping you on the side of a flawed heroine even when you want to shout at her. It’s a tough trick to pull off, but this book does so admirably.

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THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH by Walter Tevis

Thomas Jerome Newton is an extraterrestrial from the planet Anthea. When he lands on Earth — in Kentucky, disguised as a human — it’s with the intention of saving his own people from extinction. 

At the start, the style of this book seems reminiscent of a lot of not-particularly-memorable early 60’s science fiction — the prose simple and sometimes almost flat, the characters sparingly drawn. But by the end, it worms its way under your skin with insidious subtlety, and packs a punch that only the best of classic SF manages to have. The alien in our midst becomes a sad, lonely drunk, because of course he does. The world is doomed by the banal evil of bureaucracy and petty politics, because of course it is. This is a book that takes an outlandish premise and uses it to tell stark truths.

Other books I would give a high rating to from July included:

DAUGHTER OF FIRE: THE DARKNESS RISING by Karen Frost, WHITE FRAGILITY by Robin DiAngelo, EMBERS OF WAR and FLEET OF KNIVES by Gareth Powell, THE GUINEVERE DECEPTION by Kiersten White, ME AND WHITE SUPREMACY by Layla F. Saad, MISSING, PRESUMED DEAD by Emma Berquist, COMPASS ROSE by Anna Burke, and RACE THE SANDS by Sarah Beth Durst.

The Font Of Wisdom

In the fourth year of the reign of Emperor Trajan, my legions were attacked by the Calibri in the hills of Helvetica. The canny tribesmen made their assault before we could reach and lay siege to the city of Gentium, thereby rendering useless our trebuchets and high towers.

My couriers soon reported that the Calibri, as was their normal habit, had assembled a force of light cavalry, clad in copperplate gothic and armed with arials, while also bearing short onyx used for close-in fighting. They relied on speed and maneuverability in the rough terrain, using their arials to fire flaming caslons into our midst and then retreating.

A generation ago, this tactic would have wrought grievous damage. But by the grace of the gods, this was a more modern era, and I was able to deploy a force of heavy infantry, armored in stout verdana and armed with the new garamonds. No cavalry, however fleet, can stand long against a trained force armed with garamonds.

So this I say to the fools who have said that our armies have fewer meliors and sylfaens than they have at any time since the war with the Lucida Sans. We have no need of such toys now. Those are the weapons of the old Rome – a century old style.

And these are the Times New Roman.