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thepurplebookwyrm's reviews
1026 reviews
Railsea by China Miéville
adventurous
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.75
Imagine Moby Dick, but instead of an ocean, you have... a sea of rails, the Railsea, replacing great swathes of water from the Earth's continental shelves, uncounted decades, or centuries, into some sort of post-Industrial-Collapse future. And instead of the Great White Whale, you have the Great Ivory Moldywarpe (a big arse, far-future mutated mole). And then, on top of that, you have a divided sky, in which lurk, float, swim a menagerie of eldritch critters that were dropped off, long ago, by relatives of Roadside Picnic's rather inconsiderate aliens – pit stop rubbish, as it were.
That is the setting, and set-up, of China Miéville's Railsea. It is, at face-value, an absolutely ludicrous, far-future, and certainly far-fetched, post-apocalyptic setting, to be sure. It should, quite frankly, not work at all. And yet Miéville fucking made it work, because of course he bloody did! The world of Railsea is wonderfully weird, beautifully bonkers and I had a whale, or I should say moldywarpe (hehe), of a time reading this novel!
I'll venture so far as to say this might be the best non-obviously theming-driven, or theming-rich novel I've read so far in my life. It's definitely ideas-driven insofar as Railsea is all about its crazily imaginative, but no less thoughtful, world-building. But because its ideas are so firmly channeled into sheer world-building, and not theming, this one read more like a more purely entertainment-driven novel than anything else – which I found fascinating in itself!
That being said, it was, yes, incredibly thoughtful entertainment because my mind delighted in thinking about the world of Railsea, its geography, its ecology, its human societies, its cultural customs. Miéville's prose was on point, as usual, and I once again loved the way he used language, or rather specific linguistic conventions, as a world-building device – ampersands, amirite! 😉
All of it had heart as well! And a plot that joyfully pulled me along for its wild ride (yes, all the puns are fully intended here). No, it didn't have super deep character work, and the plot unashamedly riffed off of, or I'd argue paid homage to Moby Dick (and the Strugatsky brothers). But you know what? I'll freaking allow it, because it was bloody delightful! And because this was enthusiastic and loving imagination, creativity and storytelling in the best sense of those words, and concepts. This shit, right here, is why I love China Miéville's fiction. NOM NOM NOM ! 😋
That is the setting, and set-up, of China Miéville's Railsea. It is, at face-value, an absolutely ludicrous, far-future, and certainly far-fetched, post-apocalyptic setting, to be sure. It should, quite frankly, not work at all. And yet Miéville fucking made it work, because of course he bloody did! The world of Railsea is wonderfully weird, beautifully bonkers and I had a whale, or I should say moldywarpe (hehe), of a time reading this novel!
I'll venture so far as to say this might be the best non-obviously theming-driven, or theming-rich novel I've read so far in my life. It's definitely ideas-driven insofar as Railsea is all about its crazily imaginative, but no less thoughtful, world-building. But because its ideas are so firmly channeled into sheer world-building, and not theming, this one read more like a more purely entertainment-driven novel than anything else – which I found fascinating in itself!
That being said, it was, yes, incredibly thoughtful entertainment because my mind delighted in thinking about the world of Railsea, its geography, its ecology, its human societies, its cultural customs. Miéville's prose was on point, as usual, and I once again loved the way he used language, or rather specific linguistic conventions, as a world-building device – ampersands, amirite! 😉
All of it had heart as well! And a plot that joyfully pulled me along for its wild ride (yes, all the puns are fully intended here). No, it didn't have super deep character work, and the plot unashamedly riffed off of, or I'd argue paid homage to Moby Dick (and the Strugatsky brothers). But you know what? I'll freaking allow it, because it was bloody delightful! And because this was enthusiastic and loving imagination, creativity and storytelling in the best sense of those words, and concepts. This shit, right here, is why I love China Miéville's fiction. NOM NOM NOM ! 😋
Content Warnings
Minor: Animal death
The novel features far-future societies, and customs, some of which centre on the hunting of giant, mutated moles.
Rose/House by Arkady Martine
dark
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
Read for the 2024 Hugo Awards.
Ever wonder what a haunted house, and murder mystery story would look like in a science-fictional setting, where the ghost isn't, in fact, a ghost, but a house-wide artificial intelligence? Well, Ms Arkady's Rose/House offers an answer to that question that I, on the whole, really enjoyed.
I think the novella format was very skilfully utilised here. There was just enough world-building and 'thriller intrigue' (at times bordering on psychological horror) to keep me engaged, and the lack of broader word-building, or properly developed theming (on the nature of the self, consciousness, etc... basically the kind of stuff you'd somewhat expect from an AI-centric story), didn't feel too frustrating considering what I was actually given, in terms of entertainment and single-concept-execution, in the span of about 90 pages.
And as to Ms Arkady's prose: I found it very smooth and decently evocative overall, and certainly fit to give an appreciably immersive sketch of her near-future setting.
All in all, then, this is definitely one of the better, non-theming-rich novellas I've read so far in my life. So yay!
Ever wonder what a haunted house, and murder mystery story would look like in a science-fictional setting, where the ghost isn't, in fact, a ghost, but a house-wide artificial intelligence? Well, Ms Arkady's Rose/House offers an answer to that question that I, on the whole, really enjoyed.
I think the novella format was very skilfully utilised here. There was just enough world-building and 'thriller intrigue' (at times bordering on psychological horror) to keep me engaged, and the lack of broader word-building, or properly developed theming (on the nature of the self, consciousness, etc... basically the kind of stuff you'd somewhat expect from an AI-centric story), didn't feel too frustrating considering what I was actually given, in terms of entertainment and single-concept-execution, in the span of about 90 pages.
And as to Ms Arkady's prose: I found it very smooth and decently evocative overall, and certainly fit to give an appreciably immersive sketch of her near-future setting.
All in all, then, this is definitely one of the better, non-theming-rich novellas I've read so far in my life. So yay!
Dreams Must Explain Themselves by Ursula K. Le Guin
I may disagree with some of her personal takes on art and literature, but on this, we're all agreed,
audience say it with me: THIS WOMAN WAS SO IMMEASURABLY BASED! 🤩
#ImmeasurablyBased 😌
informative
inspiring
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
3.75
Dreams Must Explain Themselves is a (rather chonky) collection of essays, talks, musings, and book reviews! Written by Ursula K. Le Guin between 1972 and 2014, and which she personally selected, and prefaced, for this publication.
Most of the texts in this collection focus on the nature of fantasy and science-fiction literature, the challenges and joys of writing speculative fiction, 'genre snobbery' (especially in academic, literary discourse), the art-craft of writing more generally, and considerations of sex and sexism in literature and the arts more broadly.
I skipped most of the sex and sexism-related texts, as I'd (recently-ish) read them in Space Crone, and... well, for the most part thoroughly enjoyed going over the rest of the collection, engaging once again with Le Guin's brilliant, assertive mind and, on the whole, well-articulated commentary.
That being said, I fairly often disagreed with her thoughts on writing as an art form, or imagination in relation to childhood, for instance, and more so than I did reading Space Crone, I believe. I was also a little disappointed by the lack of nuance, and wider knowledge she sometimes displayed (or seemed to display, at any rate) in relation to the life sciences and 'social justice', shall we say. Her thinking felt a little too... for lack of a better word 'American-centric' at times, as well. And I cringed every time Freud popped up in-text, though in Le Guin's defence she mostly mentioned him to disagree with his thinking – I think. Call it a knee-jerk reaction, then. 🙃
Her comments regarding a couple of semi-contemporary (and competing?) works of children's literature additionally felt a little petty, even bitter to me, in a way I found rather surprising. But Le Guin was only human, after all, and entitled to her own opinions, so fair enough.
I can disagree with an author, artist, creator and still enjoy their works without any issue, so none of my critical or 'negative' observations were detrimental to my very firm love of Le Guin's fiction. I just find it interesting to note said fiction, overall, seems to transcend the limitations, and points of personal divergence, I perceived in Le Guin's thinking as an individual. Hell, it's not just interesting, nor even fascination, it's beautiful; a facet of the alchemy of artistic creation. 🙂 And I still, very much, would've liked to have the pleasure of conversing with this particular artist, if only for a moment. As always, RIP. 💜
Most of the texts in this collection focus on the nature of fantasy and science-fiction literature, the challenges and joys of writing speculative fiction, 'genre snobbery' (especially in academic, literary discourse), the art-craft of writing more generally, and considerations of sex and sexism in literature and the arts more broadly.
I skipped most of the sex and sexism-related texts, as I'd (recently-ish) read them in Space Crone, and... well, for the most part thoroughly enjoyed going over the rest of the collection, engaging once again with Le Guin's brilliant, assertive mind and, on the whole, well-articulated commentary.
That being said, I fairly often disagreed with her thoughts on writing as an art form, or imagination in relation to childhood, for instance, and more so than I did reading Space Crone, I believe. I was also a little disappointed by the lack of nuance, and wider knowledge she sometimes displayed (or seemed to display, at any rate) in relation to the life sciences and 'social justice', shall we say. Her thinking felt a little too... for lack of a better word 'American-centric' at times, as well. And I cringed every time Freud popped up in-text, though in Le Guin's defence she mostly mentioned him to disagree with his thinking – I think. Call it a knee-jerk reaction, then. 🙃
Her comments regarding a couple of semi-contemporary (and competing?) works of children's literature additionally felt a little petty, even bitter to me, in a way I found rather surprising. But Le Guin was only human, after all, and entitled to her own opinions, so fair enough.
I can disagree with an author, artist, creator and still enjoy their works without any issue, so none of my critical or 'negative' observations were detrimental to my very firm love of Le Guin's fiction. I just find it interesting to note said fiction, overall, seems to transcend the limitations, and points of personal divergence, I perceived in Le Guin's thinking as an individual. Hell, it's not just interesting, nor even fascination, it's beautiful; a facet of the alchemy of artistic creation. 🙂 And I still, very much, would've liked to have the pleasure of conversing with this particular artist, if only for a moment. As always, RIP. 💜
The limits, and the great spaces of fantasy and science-fiction, are precisely what my imagination needs. Outer Space, and the Inner Lands, are still, and always will be, my country.
I may disagree with some of her personal takes on art and literature, but on this, we're all agreed,
audience say it with me: THIS WOMAN WAS SO IMMEASURABLY BASED! 🤩
#ImmeasurablyBased 😌
Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik
adventurous
hopeful
mysterious
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.25
Premise:
Spinning Silver centres on Miryem, a young Jewish woman who, at the beginning of the story, takes over her father's money-lending business as her family falls on hard times. She does such great work (better work than her too-nice father ever did), 'changing' silver coins into gold ones (meant for the family bank account, in the nearby town), she attracts the attention of a Staryk lord (a kind of fairy, essentially), who imperiously challenges her to turn his own silver into gold, within a certain amount of time.
The book also features three other points of view, but chiefly those of two other women: Wanda, a poor peasant who comes to work for Myriem in order to pay off her father's debt, and Irina, the daughter of a local lord fated to marry Mirnatius, the Tsar... and the fiery demon who inhabits him.
Spinning Silver thus broadly works as a loose re-telling, or re-imagining, of the Rumpelstiltskin fairy tale, set in Eastern Europe and mildly pulling from Slavic mythology.
Review:
To start off with some positives: I liked the fact this story was as female-centric as it was, and that it worked very well as a mythology-infused, fairy tale retelling.
On a world-building front, I most certainly enjoyed the fact Spinning Silver featured an Eastern European/Slavic setting, and that it pulled from Slavic mythology, for a pleasantly refreshing change! The novel's 'fairies', the Staryk, were also convincingly portrayed as non-human and otherworldly. Or rather... what I'll term 'sub or para-worldly', in the sense that they represented a different facet of the world, and Nature, rather than a completely separate sphere of being. And this is, in fact, more in line with what fairies, elves, the Sidhe, etc... are 'supposed' to be, so point there!
Speaking of Nature... I found the novel's highly atmospheric writing very compelling, and immersive. Novik's prose, for its part, flowed smoothly overall, though I can't say I found it evocative or inspiring in any specific fashion either.
Now onto some negatives: I'd say Spinning Silver was, more or less, equally character- and plot-driven, which was fine, but it lacked greater world-building, and certainly thematic depth beyond that. There just wasn't much there for me to engage with on an intellectual or emotional level, in terms of ideas, mythological referencing, or in terms of deeper character work, and greater character relatability. At most, I can say Spinning Silver showed a character experiencing anti-Semitic discrimination, and a sketch of intersectional oppression, since three of her four main characters were female and prejudiced in different ways. But I never got anything more than, well, a sketch, and would have preferred more substance and colour to be given to said sketch.
I'm also not entirely sure the story needed all its points of view, and this feeling honestly came as somewhat of a surprise, since I'm generally a fan of multiple POV stories. But it may precisely be because I felt the story lacked deeper substance; it didn't need so many 'character bones', as it were, given it's lack of 'meat' (stories are animals in this metaphor, apparently, lol). And the same kind of goes for the book's length. Not that it's a chonker either, mind you, but I'm not sure it needed to be as long as it was. Still, I'll allow its compelling atmosphere largely made up for this feeling of 'paddedness'.
I am, unfortunately, a little more miffed about Spinning Silver's ending, which felt rough and rushed to me. I basically had to 'reason' my way to it feeling like it 'fit', if that makes sense. Because sure, I suppose it could fit, in a roundabout way, but... it needed additional build-up. It really did. That being said, and despite that, the book's very last sentence, on its own, resonated perfectly.
Overall, then, Spinning Silver was a slightly more positive-than-not, but ultimately mixed bag for me, and my 2024 'reading run' remains, on the whole, decidedly average. #KindaSadgeBookwyrm
On the bright(er) side, however, I'll add that I liked Spinning Silver just enough to give Naomi Novik's work another go, and will thus probably check out Uprooted... at some undefined point in the future. 🙂
Spinning Silver centres on Miryem, a young Jewish woman who, at the beginning of the story, takes over her father's money-lending business as her family falls on hard times. She does such great work (better work than her too-nice father ever did), 'changing' silver coins into gold ones (meant for the family bank account, in the nearby town), she attracts the attention of a Staryk lord (a kind of fairy, essentially), who imperiously challenges her to turn his own silver into gold, within a certain amount of time.
The book also features three other points of view, but chiefly those of two other women: Wanda, a poor peasant who comes to work for Myriem in order to pay off her father's debt, and Irina, the daughter of a local lord fated to marry Mirnatius, the Tsar... and the fiery demon who inhabits him.
Spinning Silver thus broadly works as a loose re-telling, or re-imagining, of the Rumpelstiltskin fairy tale, set in Eastern Europe and mildly pulling from Slavic mythology.
Review:
To start off with some positives: I liked the fact this story was as female-centric as it was, and that it worked very well as a mythology-infused, fairy tale retelling.
On a world-building front, I most certainly enjoyed the fact Spinning Silver featured an Eastern European/Slavic setting, and that it pulled from Slavic mythology, for a pleasantly refreshing change! The novel's 'fairies', the Staryk, were also convincingly portrayed as non-human and otherworldly. Or rather... what I'll term 'sub or para-worldly', in the sense that they represented a different facet of the world, and Nature, rather than a completely separate sphere of being. And this is, in fact, more in line with what fairies, elves, the Sidhe, etc... are 'supposed' to be, so point there!
Speaking of Nature... I found the novel's highly atmospheric writing very compelling, and immersive. Novik's prose, for its part, flowed smoothly overall, though I can't say I found it evocative or inspiring in any specific fashion either.
Now onto some negatives: I'd say Spinning Silver was, more or less, equally character- and plot-driven, which was fine, but it lacked greater world-building, and certainly thematic depth beyond that. There just wasn't much there for me to engage with on an intellectual or emotional level, in terms of ideas, mythological referencing, or in terms of deeper character work, and greater character relatability. At most, I can say Spinning Silver showed a character experiencing anti-Semitic discrimination, and a sketch of intersectional oppression, since three of her four main characters were female and prejudiced in different ways. But I never got anything more than, well, a sketch, and would have preferred more substance and colour to be given to said sketch.
I'm also not entirely sure the story needed all its points of view, and this feeling honestly came as somewhat of a surprise, since I'm generally a fan of multiple POV stories. But it may precisely be because I felt the story lacked deeper substance; it didn't need so many 'character bones', as it were, given it's lack of 'meat' (stories are animals in this metaphor, apparently, lol). And the same kind of goes for the book's length. Not that it's a chonker either, mind you, but I'm not sure it needed to be as long as it was. Still, I'll allow its compelling atmosphere largely made up for this feeling of 'paddedness'.
I am, unfortunately, a little more miffed about Spinning Silver's ending, which felt rough and rushed to me. I basically had to 'reason' my way to it feeling like it 'fit', if that makes sense. Because sure, I suppose it could fit, in a roundabout way, but... it needed additional build-up. It really did. That being said, and despite that, the book's very last sentence, on its own, resonated perfectly.
Overall, then, Spinning Silver was a slightly more positive-than-not, but ultimately mixed bag for me, and my 2024 'reading run' remains, on the whole, decidedly average. #KindaSadgeBookwyrm
On the bright(er) side, however, I'll add that I liked Spinning Silver just enough to give Naomi Novik's work another go, and will thus probably check out Uprooted... at some undefined point in the future. 🙂
Content Warnings
Minor: Antisemitism and Sexism
The novel centres on female characters (one of whom is Jewish, in Early Modern Europe) who experience discrimination, and prejudice, on different levels.
The Patriarchs: How Men Came to Rule by Angela Saini
informative
medium-paced
1.75
More accurate rating:
Okay, so technically, and to be fair, I guess it's between a 5 and 6/10 if you've legit never read anything whatsoever about this topic, and if it succeeds in pushing readers to seek further scholarship elsewhere. But for my part, and considering the legitimate flaws of this publication: yeah I can't possibly rate this anything above a 3.5-4/10.
I thought Angela Saini’s The Patriarchs would, essentially, give me an updated, and more multi-disciplinary version of Gerda Lerner’s very recently read The Creation of Patriarchy. That is: an overview of contemporary research, and theses, on the origins of patriarchal, or androcratic societal systems, from varying, but interrelated historical, archaeological, anthropological, etc… points of view.
Unfortunately, this book’s title turned out to be pure bait, and it is thus the most disappointing non-fiction I have read this year – so far. Indeed, whilst I’ll concede the book presents some older research (with massive caveats I’ll come back to shortly), you will not really get any sort of properly articulated, current hypotheses regarding the origins of patriarchy, much less an overarching thesis like in Gerda Lerner’s (infinitely more engaging, and scholarly) treatise.
My suspicions were quickly aroused as The Patriarchs's incredibly meandering and scattered structure became apparent to me. Ms Saini wasted spent a lot of time describing contemporary patriarchal cultures, and poo-pooing the baddies of Western Colonialism for exporting their Christian, then capitalist patriarchy to the Global South. Deep breaths: once again, we already know this, so what is the point of going over it again when you’re supposed to be looking into the fucking origins of it all, thousands of fucking years ago, hmm??
And no, spending a couple of chapters going into descriptions of some of the world’s few remaining matrifocal societies doesn’t compensate for this book’s (yet again) ‘spread-too-thin’ superficiality; yes, just as with the recent train wreck of a read that was Period, Ms Saini spent too much time including way too many details that weren’t immediately relevant to the (supposed) topic at hand, instead of focusing on findings, from various scholars and researchers, that actually pertained to the subject of the emergence of patriarchy. In a book that is shorter than Gerda Lerner’s, and pretends to look at the evidence from different fields of research, you can’t afford to lose sight of your purported topical through-line like this!
This book is undoubtedly a work of pop-science non-fiction, because it really shows in a bad way. I guess I’ve grown used to more academic, or scholarly publications, because the absence of proper citation work really freaking bugged me in this one. All the more so given I know, for a fact, that Ms Saini misrepresented some of the scholarship she cited in The Patriarchs. To be more specific: the way she talked about Lerner’s book (which I just read, so I’m not exaggerating here), and research, exuded so much bad faith it actively angered me*. I can’t express how thoroughly shattered my respect for her work as a journalist was reading this book. Given she did this, and given the lack of citations, how can I then trust she properly represented other scholars’ and researchers’ work?
Finally, The Patriarchs does this infuriating, ‘wokist’ thing of downplaying the very existence of patriarchy, and sex-based oppression, by not only being confusingly silent on the importance of humanity’s 'Ur-difference', that of sex, and the unequal division of reproductive labour that is inherent to our condition as gestating mammals… but also by watering down the actual meaning of patriarchy. I wish I’d written the relevant page number down before I got rid of my copy, so take all of this with a healthy pinch of salt of course, but the author more or less concluded her book with the idea that: ‘eh, patriarchy is a system of oppression like any other, where some people have power over others’. Some peopl. Riiiiiight.
When I read that, I was kinda like: fuck straight off, honestly. What is even the point of writing a book like this if we’re gonna, yet again, yeet sex class analysis out’ the window, and thereby minimise the historical struggle of women for the recognition of our dignity as human beings in the face of, and liberation from systems of male domination and privilege? I’m… just so sick of this shit.
So yeah, this was a paltry 3.5-4/10 read for me. But I’ll be generous and allow that if you’ve never, ever read anything about this topic, The Patriarchs isn’t the worst book you could pick up as an introduction to it. But please, for the love of Goddess, don’t stop your exploration there, because overall, this really ain’t it!
*Full context: I honestly don’t know if Ms Saini read The Creation of Patriarchy in full, because she contended, in The Patriarchs, that Gerder Lerner stated women’s subjugation was partly due to their weaker ‘biological natures’. But that is absolute horseshit, plain and simple. What Ms Lerner did, in her treatise, was look at several different factors which could’ve constituted necessary conditions for a gradual shift from primitive egalitarianism (or matrifocality) to male-dominated social groups, which then would’ve progressively coalesced into patriarchal state societies. Some of those factors are, yes, biological, insofar as women are the human beings who bear, birth, and breastfeed children, which creates an inherent, unequal division between the sexes in terms of reproductive labour. This is feminist theory 101, for fuck’s sake, and shouldn’t be controversial in the slightest!
Ms Saini also then went on to disagree with Lerner about the primacy of sex, as opposed to socio-economic class, as an axis of oppression, referring, specifically, to the historical relationship between marriage and slavery. Now, putting aside the question of ‘which axis of oppression came first’, since it’s mostly a matter of speculation and opinion at this point, the hilarious thing is that Ms Saini followed her blanket disagreement – delivered without any sort of supporting argumentation, mind you – with a near copy-paste of Lerner’s own development on the subject in The Creation of Patriarchy. I swear you cannot make this shit up – wild'.
Okay, so technically, and to be fair, I guess it's between a 5 and 6/10 if you've legit never read anything whatsoever about this topic, and if it succeeds in pushing readers to seek further scholarship elsewhere. But for my part, and considering the legitimate flaws of this publication: yeah I can't possibly rate this anything above a 3.5-4/10.
I thought Angela Saini’s The Patriarchs would, essentially, give me an updated, and more multi-disciplinary version of Gerda Lerner’s very recently read The Creation of Patriarchy. That is: an overview of contemporary research, and theses, on the origins of patriarchal, or androcratic societal systems, from varying, but interrelated historical, archaeological, anthropological, etc… points of view.
Unfortunately, this book’s title turned out to be pure bait, and it is thus the most disappointing non-fiction I have read this year – so far. Indeed, whilst I’ll concede the book presents some older research (with massive caveats I’ll come back to shortly), you will not really get any sort of properly articulated, current hypotheses regarding the origins of patriarchy, much less an overarching thesis like in Gerda Lerner’s (infinitely more engaging, and scholarly) treatise.
My suspicions were quickly aroused as The Patriarchs's incredibly meandering and scattered structure became apparent to me. Ms Saini wasted spent a lot of time describing contemporary patriarchal cultures, and poo-pooing the baddies of Western Colonialism for exporting their Christian, then capitalist patriarchy to the Global South. Deep breaths: once again, we already know this, so what is the point of going over it again when you’re supposed to be looking into the fucking origins of it all, thousands of fucking years ago, hmm??
And no, spending a couple of chapters going into descriptions of some of the world’s few remaining matrifocal societies doesn’t compensate for this book’s (yet again) ‘spread-too-thin’ superficiality; yes, just as with the recent train wreck of a read that was Period, Ms Saini spent too much time including way too many details that weren’t immediately relevant to the (supposed) topic at hand, instead of focusing on findings, from various scholars and researchers, that actually pertained to the subject of the emergence of patriarchy. In a book that is shorter than Gerda Lerner’s, and pretends to look at the evidence from different fields of research, you can’t afford to lose sight of your purported topical through-line like this!
This book is undoubtedly a work of pop-science non-fiction, because it really shows in a bad way. I guess I’ve grown used to more academic, or scholarly publications, because the absence of proper citation work really freaking bugged me in this one. All the more so given I know, for a fact, that Ms Saini misrepresented some of the scholarship she cited in The Patriarchs. To be more specific: the way she talked about Lerner’s book (which I just read, so I’m not exaggerating here), and research, exuded so much bad faith it actively angered me*. I can’t express how thoroughly shattered my respect for her work as a journalist was reading this book. Given she did this, and given the lack of citations, how can I then trust she properly represented other scholars’ and researchers’ work?
Finally, The Patriarchs does this infuriating, ‘wokist’ thing of downplaying the very existence of patriarchy, and sex-based oppression, by not only being confusingly silent on the importance of humanity’s 'Ur-difference', that of sex, and the unequal division of reproductive labour that is inherent to our condition as gestating mammals… but also by watering down the actual meaning of patriarchy. I wish I’d written the relevant page number down before I got rid of my copy, so take all of this with a healthy pinch of salt of course, but the author more or less concluded her book with the idea that: ‘eh, patriarchy is a system of oppression like any other, where some people have power over others’. Some peopl. Riiiiiight.
When I read that, I was kinda like: fuck straight off, honestly. What is even the point of writing a book like this if we’re gonna, yet again, yeet sex class analysis out’ the window, and thereby minimise the historical struggle of women for the recognition of our dignity as human beings in the face of, and liberation from systems of male domination and privilege? I’m… just so sick of this shit.
So yeah, this was a paltry 3.5-4/10 read for me. But I’ll be generous and allow that if you’ve never, ever read anything about this topic, The Patriarchs isn’t the worst book you could pick up as an introduction to it. But please, for the love of Goddess, don’t stop your exploration there, because overall, this really ain’t it!
*Full context: I honestly don’t know if Ms Saini read The Creation of Patriarchy in full, because she contended, in The Patriarchs, that Gerder Lerner stated women’s subjugation was partly due to their weaker ‘biological natures’. But that is absolute horseshit, plain and simple. What Ms Lerner did, in her treatise, was look at several different factors which could’ve constituted necessary conditions for a gradual shift from primitive egalitarianism (or matrifocality) to male-dominated social groups, which then would’ve progressively coalesced into patriarchal state societies. Some of those factors are, yes, biological, insofar as women are the human beings who bear, birth, and breastfeed children, which creates an inherent, unequal division between the sexes in terms of reproductive labour. This is feminist theory 101, for fuck’s sake, and shouldn’t be controversial in the slightest!
Ms Saini also then went on to disagree with Lerner about the primacy of sex, as opposed to socio-economic class, as an axis of oppression, referring, specifically, to the historical relationship between marriage and slavery. Now, putting aside the question of ‘which axis of oppression came first’, since it’s mostly a matter of speculation and opinion at this point, the hilarious thing is that Ms Saini followed her blanket disagreement – delivered without any sort of supporting argumentation, mind you – with a near copy-paste of Lerner’s own development on the subject in The Creation of Patriarchy. I swear you cannot make this shit up – wild'.
The Rain Heron by Robbie Arnott
dark
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
This one's... a little difficult to talk about, but here goes:
The Rain Heron opens up with a fable about its titular creature, and how its impact on the weather impacted, in turn, the fortunes of a lone farmer, some time in the undefined past. This, and the recurring Nature-related imagery in the novel, are probably why I've also seen this called an 'eco-fable', more specifically.
The book then follows a series of interrelated characters: a female hermit surviving in the mountainous wilds, a male military medic, and a female military commander (at two different points in her life) whose lives are all affected by the legendary Rain Heron – or the people who wish to capture and harness it.
And it... was basically a miss for me. Genre-wise, The Rain Heron counts as magical realism more than anything else, though it didn't grate on my nerves the way previously read magically realist tales have in the past. Still, the world-building in, and speculative nature of this book didn't amount to much; the story takes place in the unspecified future, past a certain point of no return, it seemed, with regards to climate change. And in... Tasmania, apparently? I figured it was Australia, given the mention of marsupial species, but no place name was otherwise provided in the text, so I guess it doesn't really matter in any case.
There certainly was the titular Rain Heron, and another, somewhat fantastical creature, what I'll call the 'Rainbow Squid' – the ink of which lends a feeling of 'super-realism' to paintings, amongst other things. The writing around those two animals was very evocative, and the descriptions of Nature, of wilderness more generally were beautifully evocative, and immersive as well. But I wish the Rain Heron, at least, had been more immediately present, and focal to the story, in a way it just wasn't.
Outside of that, well... this was a very meandering, and rather empty-feeling story, unfortunately. Overall, I suppose this one counts as character-driven, but that's only because the characters, and attendant character work, were just a little more front and centre than the very bare-bones plot.
This one was all about vibes, really. The theming, such as it was, was incredibly weak – somewhat unlike previous magically realist novels I've read, funnily enough. Sure, the setting and aforementioned vibes reminded me, at times, of Jeff VanderMeer's Annihilation and Into the Wild (the movie), but there wasn't anything I could really engage with beyond a very basic: "hoomans be too stoopid and destructive to appreciate and harmonise with Nature, and Nature, for its part, doesn't give a shit either way and will carry on just fine without us (kind of)". Okay.
So yeah: beautiful Nature-related descriptions, very evocative Nature-related vibes, cool magical heron and semi-magical squid, and that's it. All in all, this one felt like a smooth, pretty looking but empty shell I quickly slipped off of (especially past part two). Worth reading once, but no more.
The Rain Heron opens up with a fable about its titular creature, and how its impact on the weather impacted, in turn, the fortunes of a lone farmer, some time in the undefined past. This, and the recurring Nature-related imagery in the novel, are probably why I've also seen this called an 'eco-fable', more specifically.
The book then follows a series of interrelated characters: a female hermit surviving in the mountainous wilds, a male military medic, and a female military commander (at two different points in her life) whose lives are all affected by the legendary Rain Heron – or the people who wish to capture and harness it.
And it... was basically a miss for me. Genre-wise, The Rain Heron counts as magical realism more than anything else, though it didn't grate on my nerves the way previously read magically realist tales have in the past. Still, the world-building in, and speculative nature of this book didn't amount to much; the story takes place in the unspecified future, past a certain point of no return, it seemed, with regards to climate change. And in... Tasmania, apparently? I figured it was Australia, given the mention of marsupial species, but no place name was otherwise provided in the text, so I guess it doesn't really matter in any case.
There certainly was the titular Rain Heron, and another, somewhat fantastical creature, what I'll call the 'Rainbow Squid' – the ink of which lends a feeling of 'super-realism' to paintings, amongst other things. The writing around those two animals was very evocative, and the descriptions of Nature, of wilderness more generally were beautifully evocative, and immersive as well. But I wish the Rain Heron, at least, had been more immediately present, and focal to the story, in a way it just wasn't.
Outside of that, well... this was a very meandering, and rather empty-feeling story, unfortunately. Overall, I suppose this one counts as character-driven, but that's only because the characters, and attendant character work, were just a little more front and centre than the very bare-bones plot.
This one was all about vibes, really. The theming, such as it was, was incredibly weak – somewhat unlike previous magically realist novels I've read, funnily enough. Sure, the setting and aforementioned vibes reminded me, at times, of Jeff VanderMeer's Annihilation and Into the Wild (the movie), but there wasn't anything I could really engage with beyond a very basic: "hoomans be too stoopid and destructive to appreciate and harmonise with Nature, and Nature, for its part, doesn't give a shit either way and will carry on just fine without us (kind of)". Okay.
So yeah: beautiful Nature-related descriptions, very evocative Nature-related vibes, cool magical heron and semi-magical squid, and that's it. All in all, this one felt like a smooth, pretty looking but empty shell I quickly slipped off of (especially past part two). Worth reading once, but no more.
Content Warnings
Minor: Violence and Animal cruelty
The Creation of Patriarchy by Gerda Lerner
hopeful
informative
reflective
medium-paced
4.25
The Creation of Patriarchy is a thesis discussing the historical origins, and potentially necessary factors for the development of patriarchal (or what I prefer to call androcratic) societies – in the West at least.
And I thoroughly enjoyed it! Gerda Lerner's treatise had a satisfying amount of depth; her analysis displayed a delightful level of nuance and intellectual rigour, and specificity. I loved the fact she clearly stated her thesis, as a historian, was primarily aimed at giving a plausible explanation for the emergence of patriarchy in the Fertile Crescent, then the South of Europe (eventually leading to what we call 'Western Civilisation'), by specifically analysing the Mesopotamian and Hebraic archaeological and written records... and not at providing a universal explanation for the emergence of all of the world's patriarchal societies.
That being said, she also did her best to discuss a variety of factors, from the ecological and economical, to the socio- and psychological (and I also loved her speculative boldness there!) which, in combination and over time, might've progressively made it possible for institutionalised patriarchy, and more specifically the patriarchal state, to emerge during the Neolithic period.
Mention of other cultural groups, in other parts of the world – such as Asia and South America – is also made in key places, to point to parallels between the patterns she demonstrates in the emergence of patriarchy in ancient Mesopotamia, and those which can be observed in the rest of the world (without, once again, claiming her thesis can necessarily be applied, wholesale, universally).
I loved the fact she provided the reader with a pretty in-depth discussion of the definitions she chose to use in her book. I loved the fact she established a clear and precise distinction between sex and gender, and the fact she made a solidly convincing case for sex-based oppression (or subjugation as she preferentially termed it) being the original, ur-axis of oppression – which is incidentally what I've always believed, but here actual arguments, based in material history, were provided by Ms Lerner.
I thoroughly enjoyed her rigorous, no bullshit but compassionate tone: women, as a class, have been 'done dirty' by men as a class, for thousands of years, but it is undeniable one of the big reasons patriarchy/androcracy, as a system, has lasted this long is because women have participated in its perpetuation – with varying degrees of willingness of course. This is also, incidentally, where intersectional analysis (actual intersectional analysis, to be clear) becomes useful as a tool to demonstrate the intricacies embedded in history's larger patterns.
Finally, and this came as a pleasant surprise: I really enjoyed Lerner's prose. This is not something I usually pay too much attention to when it comes to non-fiction, but here it actually stood out to me, in a positive fashion.
Yes, this work dates back to the 1980s, and is a little dated in some places. But honestly, given the things I've read, or watched, over more recent years, I would confidently state Gerda Lerner's book remains relevant today. And I would thus very highly recommend it to readers interested in this specific topic.
And I thoroughly enjoyed it! Gerda Lerner's treatise had a satisfying amount of depth; her analysis displayed a delightful level of nuance and intellectual rigour, and specificity. I loved the fact she clearly stated her thesis, as a historian, was primarily aimed at giving a plausible explanation for the emergence of patriarchy in the Fertile Crescent, then the South of Europe (eventually leading to what we call 'Western Civilisation'), by specifically analysing the Mesopotamian and Hebraic archaeological and written records... and not at providing a universal explanation for the emergence of all of the world's patriarchal societies.
That being said, she also did her best to discuss a variety of factors, from the ecological and economical, to the socio- and psychological (and I also loved her speculative boldness there!) which, in combination and over time, might've progressively made it possible for institutionalised patriarchy, and more specifically the patriarchal state, to emerge during the Neolithic period.
Mention of other cultural groups, in other parts of the world – such as Asia and South America – is also made in key places, to point to parallels between the patterns she demonstrates in the emergence of patriarchy in ancient Mesopotamia, and those which can be observed in the rest of the world (without, once again, claiming her thesis can necessarily be applied, wholesale, universally).
I loved the fact she provided the reader with a pretty in-depth discussion of the definitions she chose to use in her book. I loved the fact she established a clear and precise distinction between sex and gender, and the fact she made a solidly convincing case for sex-based oppression (or subjugation as she preferentially termed it) being the original, ur-axis of oppression – which is incidentally what I've always believed, but here actual arguments, based in material history, were provided by Ms Lerner.
I thoroughly enjoyed her rigorous, no bullshit but compassionate tone: women, as a class, have been 'done dirty' by men as a class, for thousands of years, but it is undeniable one of the big reasons patriarchy/androcracy, as a system, has lasted this long is because women have participated in its perpetuation – with varying degrees of willingness of course. This is also, incidentally, where intersectional analysis (actual intersectional analysis, to be clear) becomes useful as a tool to demonstrate the intricacies embedded in history's larger patterns.
Finally, and this came as a pleasant surprise: I really enjoyed Lerner's prose. This is not something I usually pay too much attention to when it comes to non-fiction, but here it actually stood out to me, in a positive fashion.
Yes, this work dates back to the 1980s, and is a little dated in some places. But honestly, given the things I've read, or watched, over more recent years, I would confidently state Gerda Lerner's book remains relevant today. And I would thus very highly recommend it to readers interested in this specific topic.
Slow River by Nicola Griffith
dark
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.25
My experience with Nicola Griffith's fiction remains decidedly mixed, as I thought Slow River was, yet again... just fine.
Premise and plot-wise, this particular novel centres on Lore, the daughter of a wealthy and powerful family in the water sanitisation and broader bio-remediation business, at three different points in her life: during her childhood, right after she has turned eighteen, and escaped the people who kidnapped and held her for ransom – with both of these timelines being told in third person POV. And three or so years later, in the present (and in first person POV), as Lore is about to start a new job at her local water treatment plant, new identity in hand.
Mine is an SF Masterworks edition of Slow River, yet it honestly barely qualifies as science-fiction. I assume the specifics of biochemical remediation, whilst based in fact, are developed into 'near-future speculation' territory – but cannot state this with any sort of certainty. People also carry combo DNA and ID chips in the webbing of their hands, as well as digital 'slates' (i.e. tablets as imagined by peeps back in the 90s). And that's about it. As such, there really isn't much to say in terms of world-building; I'll concede the bioremediation props up very superficial theming on the intersection between ecological and socio-economic justice (or rather injustice), but beyond that... I got nothin'. Additionally, I never learned where, exactly, the present timeline actually took place. Lore references several cities and areas of the world she lived in and travelled to as a child, then teenager, but I couldn't tell whether her present-day town, or city, was in Northern Europe of the Northern US – though I guess it didn't ultimately matter either way.
Oh, actually, let me add this: why the hell is this categorised as cyberpunk?! That doesn't make a lick of sense to me. The only reason I could possibly come up with for this truly bizarre genre attribution is that Spanner, the book's main secondary character, lives on the margins of society and (partly) survives by hacking into personal slates. That would be the 'low life' side of the cyberpunk equation, but then it doesn't really work when considering its 'high tech' side. I mean I guess biotech technically qualifies, but then shouldn't it be biopunk instead? And honestly, I don't think one can make a particularly strong case for that either, since I'm pretty sure most people would expect much higher (stakes) levels of biological/medical engineering, done on people as well, in works belonging to that sub-genre. But eh, your mileage will undoubtedly vary here.
So then we have character work, and theming. Regarding the former: I'd consider Slow River a character-driven novel. Barring the fact this is not my preference (especially when it comes to speculative, or in this case speculative-lite fiction), I'd say the character work, here, was good enough to carry the story Ms Griffith wanted to tell in this novel. The complicated (and somewhat abusive, to be honest) relationship between Lore and Spanner was convincingly fleshed out; the familial intrigue, or drama, was satisfactorily developed. I can't say the same for the 'romance' that eventually bloomed between Lore and another character – it wasn't full-on Instalove™, but it didn't feel particularly organic to me either. That being said, yes: the lesbian representation in Slow River was as seamless as I found it in Ms Griffth's much more recent Spear, so point there!
I guess my main issue with the book lies with its attempt at theming, especially as it relates to character work, and/or psychology. It felt like the story tried to say something about familial trauma, and shifting identity, but none of it felt particularly well realised, engaging, or insightful. It was exactly as superficial as the 'messaging' I perceived about ecological and socio-economic injustice.
I enjoy Ms Griffith's prose, and have enjoyed the base premises, or concepts, of all three of her books that I've read so far. It's just that... I'm always left rather frustrated when it comes to the unrealised potential of said base premises, and the theming I initially glimpse therein. #Sadge
PS: I actually enjoyed the book's info-dumping on biochemical remediation, sue me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Premise and plot-wise, this particular novel centres on Lore, the daughter of a wealthy and powerful family in the water sanitisation and broader bio-remediation business, at three different points in her life: during her childhood, right after she has turned eighteen, and escaped the people who kidnapped and held her for ransom – with both of these timelines being told in third person POV. And three or so years later, in the present (and in first person POV), as Lore is about to start a new job at her local water treatment plant, new identity in hand.
Mine is an SF Masterworks edition of Slow River, yet it honestly barely qualifies as science-fiction. I assume the specifics of biochemical remediation, whilst based in fact, are developed into 'near-future speculation' territory – but cannot state this with any sort of certainty. People also carry combo DNA and ID chips in the webbing of their hands, as well as digital 'slates' (i.e. tablets as imagined by peeps back in the 90s). And that's about it. As such, there really isn't much to say in terms of world-building; I'll concede the bioremediation props up very superficial theming on the intersection between ecological and socio-economic justice (or rather injustice), but beyond that... I got nothin'. Additionally, I never learned where, exactly, the present timeline actually took place. Lore references several cities and areas of the world she lived in and travelled to as a child, then teenager, but I couldn't tell whether her present-day town, or city, was in Northern Europe of the Northern US – though I guess it didn't ultimately matter either way.
Oh, actually, let me add this: why the hell is this categorised as cyberpunk?! That doesn't make a lick of sense to me. The only reason I could possibly come up with for this truly bizarre genre attribution is that Spanner, the book's main secondary character, lives on the margins of society and (partly) survives by hacking into personal slates. That would be the 'low life' side of the cyberpunk equation, but then it doesn't really work when considering its 'high tech' side. I mean I guess biotech technically qualifies, but then shouldn't it be biopunk instead? And honestly, I don't think one can make a particularly strong case for that either, since I'm pretty sure most people would expect much higher (stakes) levels of biological/medical engineering, done on people as well, in works belonging to that sub-genre. But eh, your mileage will undoubtedly vary here.
So then we have character work, and theming. Regarding the former: I'd consider Slow River a character-driven novel. Barring the fact this is not my preference (especially when it comes to speculative, or in this case speculative-lite fiction), I'd say the character work, here, was good enough to carry the story Ms Griffith wanted to tell in this novel. The complicated (and somewhat abusive, to be honest) relationship between Lore and Spanner was convincingly fleshed out; the familial intrigue, or drama, was satisfactorily developed. I can't say the same for the 'romance' that eventually bloomed between Lore and another character – it wasn't full-on Instalove™, but it didn't feel particularly organic to me either. That being said, yes: the lesbian representation in Slow River was as seamless as I found it in Ms Griffth's much more recent Spear, so point there!
I guess my main issue with the book lies with its attempt at theming, especially as it relates to character work, and/or psychology. It felt like the story tried to say something about familial trauma, and shifting identity, but none of it felt particularly well realised, engaging, or insightful. It was exactly as superficial as the 'messaging' I perceived about ecological and socio-economic injustice.
I enjoy Ms Griffith's prose, and have enjoyed the base premises, or concepts, of all three of her books that I've read so far. It's just that... I'm always left rather frustrated when it comes to the unrealised potential of said base premises, and the theming I initially glimpse therein. #Sadge
PS: I actually enjoyed the book's info-dumping on biochemical remediation, sue me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Content Warnings
Minor: Sexual assault and Violence
Neuropsychedelia: The Revival of Hallucinogen Research Since the Decade of the Brain by Nicolas Langlitz
challenging
informative
reflective
medium-paced
3.75
I picked this book up expecting another non-fiction tome about the research being done into the therapeutic applications of psychedelic plants, fungi, compounds, etc... and was a little miffed, initially, when I realised that's not, in fact, what this book is about.
Instead of a pop-STEM book, Neuropsychedelia is an ethnographic study of the research currently being done with psychedelic substances in the 'West' – or rather parts of it, as this book focuses on research labs in the United States and Switzerland. But, whilst it is written as an ethnographic account, this book is about a lot more than that: it's about the way we carry out scientific research, and the ways we gather knowledge. It's about the way we dichotomise objectivity and subjectivity within science and society, and how this impacts our accumulation of knowledge about, and subsequent understanding of the natural world, our own species, the human body, and the human mind. And it's about how the field of psychedelic science (and medicine, though to a lesser extent) can help us rethink, and perhaps, reframe, all of those things. It is, indeed, quite ambitious in its scope.
And I was very pleasantly surprised by the depth and nuance with which this complex tapestry of topics was handled by the author. I found this book, and the discussions it contained, absolutely fascinating, especially since it drew on material from several different areas of the humanities. Like I said, it is written as an ethnographic account, but the author pulls from history, anthropology, sociology, critical theory, and philosophy to articulate his multi-faceted analysis. I loved that.
And I loved how stimulated my intellect felt... but it's also true I did, ultimately, feel a little frustrated by the fact the book didn't delve more deeply into the therapeutic potentials of psychedelic substances. I also think the book's thesis could've benefited from additional input from the fields of feminist analysis (androcentrism in the life and human sciences remains a problem after all), and the field of pharmacogenetics – the latter's complete omission, when discussing the still-puzzlingly differing outcomes of psychedelic experiences felt especially glaring to me. Additionally, the book's concluding chapter felt a little unfocused and weak to me, and left me wanting.
Still, putting aside these minor negatives, I would definitely recommend this book to readers interested in psychedelic science as a field, and thinking about the complex, multi-faceted relationship between science, knowledge and society.
Instead of a pop-STEM book, Neuropsychedelia is an ethnographic study of the research currently being done with psychedelic substances in the 'West' – or rather parts of it, as this book focuses on research labs in the United States and Switzerland. But, whilst it is written as an ethnographic account, this book is about a lot more than that: it's about the way we carry out scientific research, and the ways we gather knowledge. It's about the way we dichotomise objectivity and subjectivity within science and society, and how this impacts our accumulation of knowledge about, and subsequent understanding of the natural world, our own species, the human body, and the human mind. And it's about how the field of psychedelic science (and medicine, though to a lesser extent) can help us rethink, and perhaps, reframe, all of those things. It is, indeed, quite ambitious in its scope.
And I was very pleasantly surprised by the depth and nuance with which this complex tapestry of topics was handled by the author. I found this book, and the discussions it contained, absolutely fascinating, especially since it drew on material from several different areas of the humanities. Like I said, it is written as an ethnographic account, but the author pulls from history, anthropology, sociology, critical theory, and philosophy to articulate his multi-faceted analysis. I loved that.
And I loved how stimulated my intellect felt... but it's also true I did, ultimately, feel a little frustrated by the fact the book didn't delve more deeply into the therapeutic potentials of psychedelic substances. I also think the book's thesis could've benefited from additional input from the fields of feminist analysis (androcentrism in the life and human sciences remains a problem after all), and the field of pharmacogenetics – the latter's complete omission, when discussing the still-puzzlingly differing outcomes of psychedelic experiences felt especially glaring to me. Additionally, the book's concluding chapter felt a little unfocused and weak to me, and left me wanting.
Still, putting aside these minor negatives, I would definitely recommend this book to readers interested in psychedelic science as a field, and thinking about the complex, multi-faceted relationship between science, knowledge and society.
Looking for Jake and Other Stories by China Miéville
dark
funny
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
3.75
Aaaah, to finally read good fiction again! 😩💜
Not that it's the best Miéville I've ever read either, mind you, but still.
Like Three Moments of An Explosion, this (older) collection brings together a selection of short stories; unlike the former, however, Looking for Jake felt 'tighter' in... genre scope, is how I'll put it. By that, I mean that almost all of the stories in this collection fall under the 'genre aegis' of weird urban fantasy (or weird urban fiction, period, at the very least). Most of them specifically take place in London as well. One story, for its part, takes place in New Crobuzon, and it was kind of fun to be taken back there for a spell!
I didn't really mind the tighter scope (this collection is shorter than Three Moments after all), but it's also true Looking for Jake had less 'conceptual variety' than its more recently published sibling. Still, overall, I'd say both collections display similar levels of depth with the world-building, and theming in their stories. Although... hmm, I'm not entirely settled when it comes to theming. Maybe I would, in fact, give a point to Looking for Jake over Three Moments for theming, but that could also simply be because the former was shorter and, again, 'tighter' than the latter, and because I was kind of looking a little more actively for theming in this one as well (since I'd felt a certain lack of it in Three Moments). Eh, make of that what you will, as always! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Either way: gods it felt good to read this! Like actual, "nom nom nom gimme that güd shid" levels of literary enjoyment, freaking finally. There is yet hope I will turn this reading year around, mark my words!
Stories that stood out:
- Looking for Jake +
- Reports of Certain Events in London +
- Familiar +
- Entry Taken From a Medical Encyclopaedia ++
- Details +++
- Go Between ++
- 'Tis the Season +++
- The Tain ++
Not that it's the best Miéville I've ever read either, mind you, but still.
Like Three Moments of An Explosion, this (older) collection brings together a selection of short stories; unlike the former, however, Looking for Jake felt 'tighter' in... genre scope, is how I'll put it. By that, I mean that almost all of the stories in this collection fall under the 'genre aegis' of weird urban fantasy (or weird urban fiction, period, at the very least). Most of them specifically take place in London as well. One story, for its part, takes place in New Crobuzon, and it was kind of fun to be taken back there for a spell!
I didn't really mind the tighter scope (this collection is shorter than Three Moments after all), but it's also true Looking for Jake had less 'conceptual variety' than its more recently published sibling. Still, overall, I'd say both collections display similar levels of depth with the world-building, and theming in their stories. Although... hmm, I'm not entirely settled when it comes to theming. Maybe I would, in fact, give a point to Looking for Jake over Three Moments for theming, but that could also simply be because the former was shorter and, again, 'tighter' than the latter, and because I was kind of looking a little more actively for theming in this one as well (since I'd felt a certain lack of it in Three Moments). Eh, make of that what you will, as always! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Either way: gods it felt good to read this! Like actual, "nom nom nom gimme that güd shid" levels of literary enjoyment, freaking finally. There is yet hope I will turn this reading year around, mark my words!
Stories that stood out:
- Looking for Jake +
- Reports of Certain Events in London +
- Familiar +
- Entry Taken From a Medical Encyclopaedia ++
- Details +++
- Go Between ++
- 'Tis the Season +++
- The Tain ++