What non-Go book are you reading right now?

So excited to hear this! I envy you the experience of reading those great Miller stories for the first time. “Crucifixus Etiam” is so powerful I choked up when I first read it. Other classics include “Blood Bank,” “Conditionally Human,” and the very startling “Dark Benediction.” Also, “The Darfstellar,” another classic, which won a Hugo for Best Novelette, is in the “Best of” collection. When I first became active in fandom, in 1969, all the gossip was about the anticipated return of Miller to writing again. Alas, it never happened, as he suffered great psychological damage from his WWII experiences as bomber crewman, especially his participation in the bombing of Monte Cassino (he was a Catholic).

I discovered Christopher Anvil on my own at about age 11, when I found my dad’s collection of Astounding Science Fiction (1947-1962). One of the first stories I read (in these issues; I had already been reading SF for a year) was by Anvil. I liked it so much, I searched through the issues and read every Anvil story before I read anything else. Also did that with Eric Frank Russell, another prolific contributor.

I have avoided those Anvil volumes, however, because I figure that most of them duplicate what I have. Also, I don’t mean to be a spoiler, but I have heard very negative things about the editor of those volumes, who is said to take outrageous liberties in the re-editing of the stories—not only those of Anvil, but of many other writers from yesteryear.

MY GOODNESS, @Conrad_Melville! I SO MUCH envy you for your involvement with the Golden Age of SF!
I don’t remember how much older you are than me (me *1957) … my first SF book was at age of six, I think (maybe seven), “The Green Hills of Earth” by Robert A. Heinlein, a classic, and I was hooked.
Before that already my father used to tell us kids (of which I was the eldest) SF stories that he invented ad-lib every full moon night, before bedtime (details omitted because it’s late already—and not yet full moon :smiley: )
Anyway, after that I always got my dad’s read SF books, plus sometimes some from relatives.

I should’ve known that you appreciate Russell, always wanted to mention his book “The Great Explosion” here … one of the very best books I’ve ever read, very different but just as profound as — and right next to — Stapledon’s “Star Maker” and Doris Lessing’s SF works. (The latter ones are not as funny though but rather hard work to read—and worth every hour you sit thinking about the last sentence you read) :smiley:


OIC … Eric Flint … that’s sad to read. I didn’t know anything about him but … am not surprised … ugly things have been done by some editors to quite a few books whose authors can’t protect their works any longer :frowning:

I’m about halfway through this book.

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Sci-Fi book series: Ada Palmer - “Terra Ignota” is something I highly recommended.
Translations are available in French and German (4th book still missing).
A chronicle of the future written by an unreliable narrator. A near utopia with many intrigues.
Written by a professor of history and in many ways not classical cypherpunk, rather a modern take on what our future might look like with takes on gender, a global community of peoples and interesting characters. Also it explores many concepts of historical thinkers in disguise or not.
I don’t want to spoil much more since I do not understand the book enough yet my own.

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Interesting, thx …

I‘ve put Terra Ignota Series by Ada Palmer on my “want to read” list on GoodReads — not necessarily because I’m going to read it but b/c I just want to have it in the list for revisiting later, when I may want to read it :slight_smile:

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I finished Brown’s Night of the Jabberwock a few days ago. He did finally introduce a murder just past the halfway point, but I thought it was rather contrived. As described in my earlier post, the book has many fine qualities, but I found it ultimately unsatisfying.

Now I have finally decided to try Agatha Christie, whom I have never read. Since I love the 1945 movie And Then There Were None, I chose that novel as my introduction to her. Christie’s writing is terrifically lean and full of dialogue, making it a fast read. I especially admire her efficient character exposition—so hard with such a large cast.

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I’ve begun reading the Blackwater six-book saga by Michael McDowell. It feels like reading a cross between a Stephen King and a John Steinbeck novels.

Imagine reading Tortilla Flat, but with a few impossible details here and there, a monster lurking, and the certitude that the river is about to come alive and swallow someone.

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evolution, Eileen Myles (poetry collection)

The Essential Dogen: Writings of the Great Zen Master, Tanahashi & Levitt

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Byzantium: The Surprising Life of a Medieval Empire by Judith Herrin




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Zen and the Art of Donkey Maintenance

Thanks, that title alone sounded so good already (having read Robert M. Pirsig’s Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance 40+ years ago), and reading the info text made me order a used copy :blush:

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The Englishman’s Boy by Guy Vanderhaeghe presents the reader with dual narratives, one set in Hollywood in the 1920’s, the other in Montana and Saskatchewan in 1873. In the hands of a less capable writer this sort of device can become a source of disappointment and even irritation, but Vanderhaeghe holds it together admirably. Even if you don’t always make the thematic connections, you are still being treated to two very compelling narratives in a single volume, never a bad deal.

I’m always ready for a frontier story, or anything that has people up against raw elemental forces. So I gravitated more toward the tale of a teenage drifter who hooks up with a band of wolf hunters trailing a pair of Assiniboines who made off with some of their horses. The pursuit will take them across the so-called medicine line and into Saskatchewan, nominally part of the emerging Dominion of Canada, but in reality a lawless frontier dominated by fur traders, whisky merchants, and a likely enough assortment of rogues, misfits and yahoos. Enter at your own risk.

The Hollywood story concerns a self-styled visionary who wants to make the definitive western, a masterwork to rival D.W. Griffith’s Birth of a Nation. To that end he has secretly recruited an aspiring screenwriter to track down and interview an aging bit actor who disappeared a while back and is said to have been a genuine Indian fighter in his youth. The search for truth exacts a heavy price on those in a position to know, but the producer is unmoved even as he insists on authenticity. He applies a veneer of intellectual sophistication to a very old-fashioned Hollywood idea; namely that every story must have black hats and white hats, complexity in human relations being a tough sell, supposedly more than the moviegoing public can process.

And so these dual protagonists, drifter and screenwriter, find themselves treading a fine line; one line separating wanton violence and rapacity from a legitimate concern for justice; the other an attempt to balance economic obligations with the legacy of a man the screenwriter has come to respect. Things get messy of course.

Guy Vanderhaeghe keeps this moving at a good pace, displays a sure grasp of his subject matter, and has an excellent feel for dialogue, especially in his use of colourful and risque colloquialisms. If I have one criticism it’s that he seems to give the Assiniboine horse thieves a pass, choosing to present their actions as the fulfillment of a noble dream vision. I believe you could make a similar case for certain axe murderers, but that doesn’t mean we don’t prosecute them. To be fair, this appears to be a momentary lapse in an otherwise even-handed exploration of human failings. I just found it oddly out of step.

This novel has striking parallels to Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, another tale of cross-border depravity as observed by a young drifter. You might also consider Vanderhaeghe’s follow up novel, The Last Crossing, again set on both sides of the medicine line, but featuring a different cast of characters.

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Biography of Belgium writer Willem Elsschot
by Vic van der Rijdt

Alphonsus Josephus de Ridder (7 May 1882 – 31 May 1960) was a Belgian writer and poet who wrote under the pseudonym Willem Elsschot. One of the most prominent Flemish authors, his most famous work, Cheese (1933) is the most translated Flemish-language novel of all time.

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My streak of highly satisfying reading continues. I have finally finished Early Short Stories by Anthony Trollope (Oxford’s World Classics imprint, 1994), which I began last December. I read it slowly, a story now and then, between other books. It began weakly, because the stories are ordered by date of composition and the author had not yet found his stride. But with “An Unprotected Female at the Pyramids,” Trollope began to soar. I regard 12 of the 22 stories as excellent or better. Trollope doesn’t have the imaginative inventiveness of Dickens, but he is more restrained in his descriptions, he uses understated humor that is delicious, and he often employs surprise endings to illustrate a profound psychological insight. I have tremendous admiration for his craftsmanship. I will certainly follow-up with the World Classics companion volume of Trollope’s later short stories when I find a copy.

Loose End: I finished Christie’s And Then There Were None a month ago and appreciated its virtues as previously mentioned. However, I found the ending disappointing, as explained in the spoiler below.

Plot Spoiler

Christie’s book has a maximally dark ending in which the avenging killer succeeds. Unfortunately, to achieve this requires a contrived and tediously long denouement. In contrast, the 1945 movie follows the book closely until the end. There it substitutes a typically Hollywood, happy ending: two of the survivors reveal that they are not who they are supposed to be and become a couple. Although an even bigger contrivance than the book, this ending has the advantage of delivering a valid rebuke to the killer’s argument. Best would be, IMHO, to have just one survivor who is a rebuke to the plan.

Next: I have decided to reread Michael Wood’s In Search of the Trojan War. Over the Christmas holiday, I loaned this to my daughter, who wanted to read some ancient history, and she finished it before returning to school. I would like to refresh my memory of the subject. It will prepare me for some interesting discussions with my daughter, as well as for a rereading of The Iliad, which I want to do when I find a copy of Robert Fitzgerald’s translation.

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I feel that your impression of the classics is warped if you approach it with the expectation of a struggle rather than a read that will provide fresh sensations.

It is with great pleasure and a smile that dates back about half a century, that I started to reread Terence H. White’s The Once and Future King.
This book is a recreation of Sir Thomas Malory’s Mort d’Arthur, but White with his erudition and humour gives it an extra dimension.
In the sixties this book was made into a musical Camelot.
I read it in the Dutch translation by Max Schuchart, who also translated Tolkien The Lord of the Rings.

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I fondly (but faintly) remember the part with the ants … read that about 4 decades ago, it was one of the inspirations that got me interested in animal cognition.

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In The Sword and the Stone’s Chapter 13 Wart’s dealing with the ants are described. On internet I found a summary and analysis of it.

Summary

Since his return from his adventure three days earlier, the Wart has been confined to his bed to rest to regain his strength. Naturally, he is bored; his only amusement is the set of ant-nests that he took from Merlyn’s cottage. Looking at the ants gives the Wart the idea to ask Merlyn transform him into one, and the wizard reluctantly agrees.

As an ant, the Wart does not fit in with the collective spirit of the colony; however, he does his best to perform his “antly” duties. He learns about the two basic utterances in the ants’ language (“done” and “not done”) and tries to complete his job as a member of the mash squad: A group of ants who fill their crops with the scrapings of seeds and then allow other ants to feed directly from their mouths. Eventually, an ant from a rival nest approaches the Wart’s colony and is murdered — a war ensues. Merlyn rescues the Wart and transforms him back into a boy before the two ant armies engage in battle.

Analysis
As Mr. P. taught the Wart about tyranny and the hawks taught him about military honor, the ants introduce the Wart to a world of intense collectivism or communism, which reveals to him the horrors of this political philosophy. In a world where everyone (except the leader) is equal, life becomes incredibly monotonous and static; examples of these qualities in the ants’ lives abound in this chapter. For example, the “wireless broadcast” received by the Wart’s antennae begins to “make him feel sick” after an hour of its repetitions. None of the ants have names (which might suggest personalities), but numbers (the Wart’s is 42436/WD). All ants speak in the same “dead” and “impersonal” voice and the narrator states, very bluntly, that “Novelties did not happen to them.” Their conversations, like their lives, are the same day after day.

One way in which the ants are controlled by their leader without their ever considering their own situation is through their language, which reduces most words and phrases into either “done” or “not done.” As in George Orwell’s 1984, during which the totalitarian government employs a language called Newspeak that prohibits comparative phrases (and thus, the populace’s comparing its own government to that of other nations), the ants’ inability to speak of such things as “happiness,” “freedom,” “liking,” or any of their opposites prevents them from ever realizing that these things do, in fact exist. Put more simply, if a word does not exist for a thing, the thing cannot be pondered — and, if it cannot be pondered, it will never arise as a consideration in anyone’s life. (This is why tyrants, throughout history, have burned books that articulated ideas contrary to their own political agendas.) Because “done” and “not done” apply to “all questions of value,” the ants’ thinking lacks the sophistication needed to consider complicated political questions. In fact, the very idea of asking questions is alien to the ants — “life was not questionable: it was dictated.” If an act (or ant) serves the colony, it is “done” because life here is a matter of “duty,” not free will.

When the Wart attempts to make sense of how any thinking creatures could live under such conditions, he (like a dissident in a communist country) is attacked for his temerity. Upon being asked what he is doing by a roving worker, the Wart replies, “I am not doing anything.” Here, White is toying with the ambiguities of language and how these ambiguities vanish when the speakers strip the language of its subtleties. The Wart’s reply is meant as a defense: He feels accused of wrongdoing, and uses the phrase “not doing anything” to mean “doing nothing wrong.” To the inquiring ant, however, “not doing anything” is wrong in the literal sense of communism: A worker must, at all times, serve the community. This is why the ant reports that “There is an insane ant on square five”; decoding the ambiguities of language (even simple ones like this) requires a level of thinking that the ants do not possess. For the same reasons, the ant is unable to detect the Wart’s sarcasm when he tells him, “I have fallen on my head and can’t remember anything”; he reports that the “Not-Done ant has a black-out from falling of the nest.” In a world where “EVERYTHING NOT FORBIDDEN IS COMPULSORY,” language must not allow any room for free thought, which could, if encouraged, destroy the entire colony. The ants exist, like the Wart when he acts as a “dumbwaiter,” only to serve.

The ants’ reaction to death and war are equally static and unemotional. When the Wart sees two dead ants, they are described (from the Wart’s point-of-view) as “curled up” and “did not seem to be either glad or sorry to be dead. They were there, like a couple of chairs.” The ants are not affected by seeing the “cadavers” of their own kind, as seen when the new ant arrives to clear away (in a bumbling fashion) the corpses. The Wart, himself, would have also been a corpse, had Merlyn not given him the proper smell for the nest — like “done” and “not done” as words, the ants only smell “nest” and “not nest,” and will kill any ant that proves to be an outsider. The logic they employ to justify their war is as unsophisticated as their language:
A. We are so numerous that we are starving.
B. Therefore we must encourage still larger families so as to become yet more numerous and starving.
C. When we are so numerous and starving as all that, obviously we shall have a right to take other people’s stores of seed. Besides, we shall by then have a numerous and starving army.

White is parodying here the kind of thinking employed in the name of “just cause” for war. The cold and syllogistic “logic” attempted by the ants only serves to belie their selfishness and belligerence. They even resort to religious appeals (speaking of “Ant the Father”) in order to justify their aggression. However, while this may seem shocking to the Wart (and the reader), the ants are never excited by the prospects of war: “They accepted them as matters of course” and as “Done.” The Wart’s depression resulting from “the dreary blank which replaced feeling,” “the dearth of all but two values,” and “the total monotony” teach him about the “wickedness” of a collective community, where a seemingly noble idea (work for the good of others) is employed to keep everyone working like robots and satisfy a leader’s lust for war.

Source: https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/o/the-once-and-future-king/summary-and-analysis-the-sword-and-the-stone/chapter-13

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This paragraph seems to be premised upon a strong form of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, which is just not true:

https://www.amazon.com/Language-Hoax-John-H-McWhorter/dp/0190468890

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I read some on the so-called Sapir-Whorf hypothesis as a teen, back in the late 60s and early 70s, when debate about it was all the rage. I haven’t worried about it much since then. It is too amorphous an idea to debate with any preciseness, ranging as it does from weak to strong as you seem to know. It obviously can exert an influence, or there would be no propaganda, advertising, or poetry. On the other hand, to say it determines thought goes too far the other way. However, the description of McWhorter’s book sounds like he deconstructs a straw man. Of course, it would be a mistake to entirely trust a promotional description. At the same time, use of the over-the-top, charged term, “hoax,” in the title doesn’t give me much confidence in its objectivity.

As for Orwell, it must be remembered that he was writing a dramatic piece of fiction. His realistic statement on the subject is in his great essay, “Politics and the English Language.”