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mrissa ([personal profile] mrissa) wrote2026-03-12 08:24 pm
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The Girl With a Thousand Faces, by Sunyi Dean

 

Review copy provided by the publisher.

This is such a fresh and vivid fantasy, it is achingly sad and exciting and wry by turns. I am so glad I got to read this. It tangles two timelines, the "past" of the 1940s and the "present" of the 1970s, both in Hong Kong's Kowloon Walled City slum and then reaching out to the areas around it. Mercy Chan doesn't have any memories when she washes up on the shores of Hong Kong during the Japanese occupation--a terrible time to be friendless and unprotected. But she isn't quite either thing, because she has Bao, her maogui (cat ghost)--not a type of spirit known to be friendly, but Bao has apparently made an exception for Mercy.

Bao won't be the last of the local ghosts, spirits, and gods we meet in the course of this book (although he is my favorite). Mercy's talent at communicating with ghosts has given her steady work with the triads for decades. Now her past is catching up to her, and if she can't remember what it was, her future looks imperiled--and so does the future of Hong Kong itself. This is a book that seeks kindness in a world that doesn't always think it has room to be kind, and I found it to be a very satisfying read indeed.

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lycomingst ([personal profile] lycomingst) wrote2026-03-12 04:17 pm
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(no subject)

Today was my second annual Library Book Sale. I got 6 books, double what I bought last year. I hope it doesn't double every year.

A bio of Queen Anne
A bio of Empress Frederick
A memoir of Cafe Society of 40s & 50s (movie stars)
A memoir by Jenny Lawson (Idk her)
A memoir by Ben Fong-Torres (if you were in the Bay Area in the 80s, you know who this is)
An autobio by Hugh Miller (19th century)

This will last me all year as I'm not the reader I once was.

I went to the book sale and the grocery today. That's a full day for me
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rachelmanija ([personal profile] rachelmanija) wrote2026-03-12 12:59 pm

Landslide, by Veronique Day



A French children's book in translation from 1961, in which five children are trapped in a cottage by a landslide.

14-year-old Laurent's family is concerned that he spends all his time reading and doing chemistry experiments, and isn't engaging with other people. So they dispatch him to stay with his younger brother and sister in a cottage only occupied by a 14-year-old girl and her younger brother, who are alone because her mother is having surgery. The idea is that Laurent will have to take care of the other kids, and this will make him come out of his shell more. His parents do leave him the out of being able to pack up his siblings and return to Paris if he really hates it.

I am honestly not sure if it was even vaguely normal in 60s France for five kids ages 14-5 to stay alone in a remote mountain cottage for ten days, or if this was just a literary convention. Anyway, Laurent unsurprisingly hates it and packs up his siblings to leave. But while they're on the train platform with the other kids, he has a change of heart and they all head back to the cottage. But they stop in the cottage of a family friend, who is out at the time.

It gets buried in a landslide! They're all trapped in pitch darkness! In an only vaguely familiar house! They can't use the stove because it already nearly suffocated them with carbon monoxide! Their only air is from a narrow shaft leading to a giant canyon! There's very little food! No one knows they're in trouble because one of the kids wrote ten postcards dated for every day of the vacation, then arranged with the post office to send one per day!

The kids having to do everything in total darkness for most of the book is a really cool twist on this sort of "trapped in a space" book. (One of my favorite moments is when enough dirt slides away that some light gets in, and they see that they've been half-starved in pitch darkness with two huge hams and a lantern hanging from the ceiling.) It has some cozy elements - they're trapped with goats, which they can milk but which also get into everything and poop everywhere, and one goat gives birth to twin kids - but gets desperate quickly when Laurent gets an infected cut and the main milking goat drowns in a flooded cellar. But it all ends up okay when they first signal with Morse code in a mirror (in a nice touch of realism, it takes a long time for anyone to figure out the message as the kids get some of the letters wrong, including signaling OSO instead of SOS) and then make and set off gunpowder!

Not an enduring classic, but an entertaining read.
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tamaranth ([personal profile] tamaranth) wrote2026-03-12 02:41 pm
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2026/036: A Great Reckoning — Louise Penny

2026/036: A Great Reckoning — Louise Penny

“Not every mystery is a crime,” said the Commander. “But every crime starts as a mystery." [p. 76]

Gamache has come out of retirement to take the role of Commander at the Sûreté Academy, which has lately been turning out new police officers who are aggressive, brutal and not up to Gamache's standards. He has to root out the source of the corruption, which -- in typical Gamache style -- he does by keeping on some known troublemakers on the staff, and recruiting his old friend-turned-nemesis Michel Brébeuf as another teacher. Of course everything goes swimmingly, Read more... )

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ranunculus ([personal profile] ranunculus) wrote2026-03-11 07:44 pm

Burn, SF

No!  I do not want to burn SF!  I did burn brush up here though. Spent 6 hours tending the fire yesterday, after the weekly Henry St construction meeting on Zoom.
Burning sounds so easy. Light a fire and watch the pile burn, right?  Not. Light the fire and feed it absolutely constantly for hours. Rake around it to prevent it from escaping.  Throw bits of unburned wood back into the middle, add branch after branch to the top. Drag in new pieces, cut them up with the chainsaw or loppers and add, add logs. Lots of logs of all sizes. Keep picking up  and dragging over more stuff. Keep cutting things, or breaking branches into 4' or less chunks.  Wonder why you are hot, tired and thirsty and realize you haven't stopped for 3.5 hours. Stop for 5 minutes, sit down, drink water and watch the fire start to fade and die. Get back up and pile on more material. 
Before:Read more... )
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mrissa ([personal profile] mrissa) wrote2026-03-11 05:55 pm
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Trace Elements: Conversations on the Project of Science Fiction and Fantasy, by Walton & Palmer

(This silly site would not let me fit both of their whole names in the title. It's Jo Walton and Ada Palmer.) 

Review copy provided by the publisher. Also I've been friends with both authors for a good long while.

Which makes this a very weird book for me to read, honestly, because I met both Jo and Ada through SFF fandom and conventions, through all writing and talking and thinking about genres, and so a lot of the first third of this book is, for me, "the obvious stuff people talk about all the time." Well, sure. Because Jo and Ada are people, and I am around them talking about this kind of thing all the time (or at least intermittently for more than twenty years in one case and more than fifteen in the other, so it adds up), so naturally their points of view on genre theory are in the general category of "stuff I would logically have been exposed to by now." It's a bit "Hamlet is just a string of famous quotes strung together," as reactions go: kind of the cart before the horse. And it means that there are a few things that are in the category of "oh right, there's the thing I always disagree with Jo about; look, she still has her own idea about it rather than mine, go figure." This is to be expected given the long and winding discussion it's been, but it makes it a bit harder for me to say useful things about what it will look like to most readers.

So the first third of the book is the part that most obviously fits the title--it's the section that has the largest-scale thoughts about the nature of genre qua genre. The second third was the most satisfying to me: it was thoughts on disability and pain. I think a too-casual reader might mistake it for random padding to make this book book-length without requiring Jo and/or Ada (some of the sections are co-written and some are written solo by each author) to write more entirely new material. But no. Absolutely not. The way that Jo and Ada process disability is strongly shaped by each of their perspectives as SFF writers and readers, and the way they process SFF is--sometimes subtly, sometimes overtly--shaped by their lived experiences as disabled people. Some of our personal stories are about the project of science fiction and fantasy. Jo's and Ada's are. And they're useful--powerful--to see on the page like this. This is where knowing people for a quite long time doesn't give me a "yes I have already been here" reaction, because three disabled friends do not talk about disability and personal history and its place in the speculative project in the same way as two of them would write about it for a general audience. It's a view from a very different angle, which is great to have. The last section is more miscellany, still related to the title but more specifics, less sweeping theory. It's labeled craft, and this is true, but in a broad sense--there are pieces about The Princess Bride and optimism and censorship as well as about protagonists and empathy in a structural sense.

I wonder if people who come to this book from reading mostly Ada rather than both but by the numbers more Jo would see how Jo has influenced Ada's prose voice in the joint pieces. For me, the stylistic commonalities with Inventing the Renaissance were really striking, but if you'd come directly from reading that I wonder how much you'd be saying, oh, that's got to be Jo Walton because it's not really what I'm used to from Ada Palmer solo! Co-authorship is an interesting beast, and I feel like there's a difficult balance here that's partially achieved by having pieces by each person solo as well as the two together. I'm not sure I can immediately come up with another thing like it that way.

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rachelmanija ([personal profile] rachelmanija) wrote2026-03-11 03:53 pm

The Luminous Dead, by Caitlin Starling



Gyre explores the tunnels of an alien world in a mechanical suit, her only connection to the outside world the voice of Em, her handler who she’s never met, who may or may not have her welfare in mind, and who definitely has boundary issues.

Gyre has less experience caving than she claimed, and caving is extremely difficult. There are sandworm-like creatures called Tunnelers that will kill multiple parties of cavers for unknown reasons, so cavers go in alone, unable to take off their suit for weeks on end, with their handler as their only link with the outside world. Em can literally take control of Gyre’s suit/body, can inject her with drugs, etc - and not only has little compunction about doing so, but won't tell Gyre what the actual purpose of the mission is.

Spoilers! Read more... )

This is a type of story I don’t see very often, in which there’s one main science fiction element – in this case, the mechanical caving suit – which is explored in depth and is essential to the story, and it’s also set on a (very lightly sketched-in) other planet. Generally the “one science fiction element” stories are set on Earth. Apart from the Tunnelers, this novel actually could take place on an Earth where the suit exists.

The Luminous Dead, like The Starving Saints, has a small cast of sapphic women and takes place almost entirely in the same claustrophobic space; if it was on TV, we’d call it a bottle episode. I normally like that sort of thing but unlike The Starving Saints, it outstays its welcome. It has about a novella’s worth of story, and while it’s very atmospheric and any given portion is well-written and interesting, considered alone, as a whole it’s very repetitive and over-long. I would mostly recommend it if you like complicated lesbians with bad boundaries.
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sartorias ([personal profile] sartorias) wrote2026-03-11 10:29 am
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Wednesday reading--Our Mutual Friend, by Charles Dickens

One thing that one has to accept with Dickens is that his heroines will be long-suffering, and that men will decide what's good for them, for which they will be grateful.

Given that, I think this the best of his books.

It has the fewest Victorian-plot coincidences, and it has the most and best swathes of bitingly funny satire of soi-disant high society. How the Lammle marriage comes about, and how each of them, in becoming a couple, brings the other down from spoken moral rectitude to the barest pretense of it is as horrific in a quiet way as all the rantings, drownings, and so on.

Bradley Headstone is a remarkably believable depiction of the stalker boyfriend who can't seem to stop himself from sinking into obsession--and violence. Eugene Wrayburn is a fascinating, witty guy for an idle dog.

There are some bits of brilliance--the depiction of the riverside society; Mr. Boffins' educational plan; the Veneering parties.

There were signs of actual personality on Bella's part (when we meet her, she is mourning over being forced to wear black because the guy she was engaged to--whom she had never met--had drowned, which pretty much has finished her socially. Why shouldn't she mourn?) even if the machinations behind her romance are quite wince-worthy.

Dickens also tries to make up for comfortably unexamined antisemitism, and the subsidiary characters are wonderfully memorable.

Altogether it's a real page-turner. Glad I reread it.
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tamaranth ([personal profile] tamaranth) wrote2026-03-10 09:37 am
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2026/035: Cuckoo Song — Frances Hardinge

2026/035: Cuckoo Song — Frances Hardinge

Trying to cling to the past, to the way things were, pretending nothing has changed. Everything changes and breaks and stops fitting – and we know that, even with our stopped clock. The world is breaking, and changing, and dancing. Always on the move. That’s how it is. That’s how it has to be. [p. 409]

Reread for book club: first read in 2014. I remembered very little except Triss' true nature and the scissors. That said, I find that my Kindle highlights match quotes from that earlier review... And I'm not sure I have much more to say about it, other than Read more... )

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ranunculus ([personal profile] ranunculus) wrote2026-03-09 09:00 pm
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Family History

One little fact can change a lot of family history. 
Read more... )
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ranunculus ([personal profile] ranunculus) wrote2026-03-09 07:44 pm

Henry St, Obstacles, Burning

After 3 years of prep and struggle to get a permit, today was the first day of construction at Henry St. That is to say the crews came in, hauled away a bunch of junk that we couldn't get rid of fast enough (detritus from 27 years of living there plus the junk left by former tenants. YAY!
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tamaranth ([personal profile] tamaranth) wrote2026-03-09 09:51 am
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2026/034: The Invention of Essex — Tim Burrows

2026/034: The Invention of Essex — Tim Burrows

I started to recognise an intrinsic feeling of accentuation when it came to Essex, between sparseness and density, bucolic abandonment and oncoming modernity, realism and poetry, country and city, rich and poor – buzzing dichotomies that meant that, as hard as I tried to pin Essex’s story down, it always somehow slipped away. [loc. 1151]

Burrows was born in Essex*, and moved back there from London when he and his wife started a family. He has real affection for the county, but a solid grasp of its socioeconomics, and of the TOWIE-fuelled perception of Essex as 'a land of crass consumerism, populated by perma-tanned chancers and loose women with more front than Clacton-on-Sea'. 

Read more... )
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Hunningham ([personal profile] hunningham) wrote2026-03-09 09:34 am

a tiny post is still a post.

Little post - because I'm trying to get back into the habit of journal about random whatevers.

  1. Such a bad night. Awake from midnight to about 4am. Himself woke me up at 6:30am when he left for work, and I moved off the sofa back to big bed but didn't go back to sleep. This is not good. It's a very bad not good. (But I did do all the washing-up in the middle of the night)
  2. Today I am going to make it to crossfit - it's one thing which shifts the needle from doomed to relatively cheerful.
  3. And on the way home I will buy some fruit, and get some spicy chicken pieces for father-in-law to have at lunch.
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Alexx Kay ([personal profile] alexxkay) wrote2026-03-08 03:52 pm
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Sir Gawain Fucks the Green Knight

Ran across this on Bluesky, and thought many of you would appreciate it:

Kym Deyn‬
[bsky.social profile] kymdeyn
This is a sheer indulgence on my part, but it turns out I never actually shared the poem here, so:

Sir Gawain Fucks the Green Knight

Here’s a tale ripe for telling. Can’t say where I heard it first—in pretty French or Dutch. Perhaps as a young lady walking ‘longside the Rijn. I’ll spin it for you in an English tongue, fine as frost on lace, sweet as malmsey wine. So it goes that young Gawain, strength kissed into his limbs, fresh as the bright dawn, comes trembling down to the Green Chapel. You’ve heard this tale, I know. His breath makes peach fuzz in the air, fear into him like worm to apple. Christmas Morn is too soon, time is short. You have your own life to save, he says, picking through thorn and bough to an ivy-clad cave.
The creature is the Jack O’ the Glen / forest prince / the wood’s own laughter. Beard of lichen and eyes like dark elder. I need not repeat their exchange—my boy’s flinching heart—a songbird in a rattled cage. It is after the blows are dealt, he asks, what god is worshipped in these green trees? Boy, the Knight replies, boy, were you not just down on your knees?
The Knight is the tang of sap / bark rough and petal soft / everywhere leaves scatter / easily crushed / Gawain clings / hardly knows what he clings to / he is the forest and the flower / a turmoil of roots / where god and tree meet and melt / the birch the oak the fern the deer / mushroom maggot crow / here Gawain is branch and bud / blow returned for blow

https://bsky.app/profile/kymdeyn.bsky.social/post/3mgdgomties26
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Hunningham ([personal profile] hunningham) wrote2025-09-10 04:18 pm

What I did on my holidays

We've had a week in Northumberland. Coastal walks, castles, pub food & bookshops.

We were staying in a small dark cramped cottage in Dunsten. Made me appreciate our beautiful flat - filled with light and being able to eat breakfast in our big bed looking out the window on to the neighbours trees.

About a mile from the sea - walking down the road & across a sheep-cropped field & thro' a little wood to come out in carpark for Craster village, slap bang on top of Northumberland coastal path.

Coast walk to castle (ruined). From a distance this looked remarkably like a fake - a toy or even a wonky inflatable castle.

Alnwick on Sunday. Barter books was open & so was Accidental Bookshop (new books). The Accidental Bookshop was excellent - a lot of independent bookshop in small towns are more about the instagram than the books but Accidental Bookshop was a delight - a lot of young adult, a lot of queer / transfriendly books and lots of Korean & Japanese fiction.

Barter books is a big secondhand bookshop - vibes of Oxfam charity shop on steriods. It's catering for people on holiday who want to grab a handful of paperbacks to read when it's raining. There's a model railway running above the bookshelves - it sounded so much like a heavy rainfall I was surprised to find it clear & dry when we went out.

Every castle in Northumberland is either a complete & absolute ruin or has been restored to mock-medieval by the Victorians.

Alnwick Castle. Seat of the Percy family, Dukes of Northumberland. In the nineteenth century 4th Duke removed all the earlier renovations & the castle remodelled "...blending Gothic revival architecture with Italian Renaissance design..." I hated it so much. All grandeur & gilt & flock wallpaper, with books by the yard, and old masters from the millionaires' car-boot sale. If Donald Trump had to do himself a Italian Renaissance palace in an old castle it would look like this. It was a serious relief to escape downstairs to the kitchens and admire enormous larders - practical & plain. Guide says that Alnwick Castle is still the Percy family's winter residence. Poor Percies. I hope they have comfortable rooms tucked away somewhere, and save the state rooms for visitors they want to discourage.

Chillingham Castle. This was fun in a completely weird way. Chillingham castle was the seat of the Grey family, but fell in to disrepair post WWII. Wakefield family bought, cleared the rubble, replaced the roof and started living in it. Now castle is divided between family home, holiday apartments & public tours. The castle & gardens are amazing, and the interior is very odd - a long long way from English Heritage / National Trust. It feels like wandering thro' someone's attic - rusty sabres, repro armour, furniture embellished with antlers, old magazines, model aeroplanes, paintings of cows, the world's saddest china lion. Chaotic wonderful mess.

Howick Hall. We walked here from our cottage (2 miles by footpath). It has an arboretum. Now, when I hear the word 'arboretum' I'm thinking Victorians. It usually means 19th century collection of cedars, redwoods & grand trees of more than a century's growth, but this one is modern. The owner started it in the 1980s - all the trees were grown from seeds collected in the wild, and it's more woodland than "please look at my giant fuck-off tree and be impressed" (But start an arboretum from seed - what an interesting thing to do if you inherit a stately house, grounds & a ton-load of money. So much better than a collection of elderly cars.)

Howick hall - beautiful. It's 18th century, and has the space and the light and the windows. There's a room with (restored?) Chinese wallpaper which is a delight & the tea rooms are in the ballroom. Easily 15ft feet high, with floor-to-ceiling windows, chandeliers and the most dreadful appalling pictures of early Christian martyrs with lions. This would be the one I want to live in, assuming of course that I had the money, the staff and someone else would worry about the roof on my behalf.
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lycomingst ([personal profile] lycomingst) wrote2026-03-07 02:21 pm
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(no subject)

From the other room I heard my cat screech a sound that stopped my heart. I thought he was hanging from something or was badly hurt. I rush in and he is on the window sill looking at a cat on the porch like he's found his arch nemesis. If he could get to him he would tear him limb from limb. The porch cat had a 'S UP? attitude.
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ranunculus ([personal profile] ranunculus) wrote2026-03-06 09:19 pm

Arena

My first chore today was to send off the information my tax guy needs for the part of the Ranch that is held as a corporation.  Corporate taxes are due March 15, not April 15. Sigh. 
This afternoon I took the tractor down to the arena and spent a lot of time going in tight circles as fast as I could.  According to someone I talked to that is the secret for leveling out an arena. My arena had big lumps in it where truck loads of sand were dumped. Over time the lumps have gotten better, but it has been easy to see that it was far from flat. The circles seems to have worked, the arena looks a lot better, but then it always looks better after it has been all stirred up and the footing is soft.  Leslie Miller was there, she came to camp for the weekend. So were Glen and Alice.  They all helped first clear the arena so I could work it up, and then set for this weekend's Obstacle Practice.  It was fun up until I had to race back to the house to meet Denise who came and trimmed Firefly's feet. 
Off early tomorrow to finish setup and get ready to greet riders.  Only 5 coming Sat and 7 on Sun.