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'.
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 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.
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)_/¯
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.
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 ++
This was my very first foray into Le Guin's non-fiction writing, and I found Space Crone to be a very enjoyable, thoughtful, articulate and spirited (yes!) collection of essays... and bits of fiction (some of which I'd already read, and thus skipped here), speeches, etc...
Thematically, Space Crone definitely qualifies as a (broadly) feminist collection; its contents principally focus on the experience of motherhood, old age/menopause (or should I say Cronehood, hehe), sexist discrimination in literature (and the arts more generally), and the 'art-craft' of writing itself – as a woman, in a dichotomised, androcratic world.
I didn't always agree with Le Guin's... analysis, shall we say, but didn't mind that in the slightest because, on the whole, it was a delight to simply engage with (at least parts of) her mind, her thinking, and of course writing like this. What a pleasure it would have been to have a conversation with this woman! Requiem in pace. 💜
This was such an uninspiring, 'nothingburger' of a series and, ehm... I guess I'll just more or less follow the same formula I used with the previous two volumes:
Plot and structure:
I stand by my initial impression, and following assertion that this story relies too heavily on 'subversion for its own sake'. It felt unpolished, immature (in the sense of 'not having completed its maturation process', not in the sense of 'this is for edgy teens', although... you be the judge of that lol). And I didn't care for it.
So snazzier Gandalf Bayaz is a power-hungry hoe, aight. Subverted Aragorn Jezal was nothing but the bought son of an unnamed prostitute, aight. Ferro fucks off because revenge YOLO!, aight. Logen, our friendly neighbourhood berserker, winds up right back where he started, kinda, because GUYZ! It's a loop of nihilistic randomness! Get it?? GET IT??????
I mean okay I guess. First Law has a kind of ending I would normally hate, but given how thoroughly uninvested I was in its 'story', and characters, I simply yawned and felt relieved I could finally move on to better literary pastures (*fingers crossed on that front*). :)
Character work:
Honestly, I don't get it: First Law's character work is notthat good. 😂 It's not bad, but ASOIAF does it (way) better, fite me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And I'd go so far as to say I found there were gaps in character motivation, and character-building. Take Logen's 'berserkerism', for instance: what was it, exactly? A curse? Demonic possession? Mental illness? Contrived metaphor for the violence in the heart of Every Man™, hurr durr? Like a story doesn't have to delve that deeply into every single aspect of a character's psyche. But then... don't pretend it has the best character work evah, know what I mean? Or I mean you can, of course, and I'll simply agree to disagree. :)
Ferro was... ugh, once again fite me. I liked Glokta and Ardee's relationship, weirdly enough. I mean, Glokta was one of the more interesting characters (though that's not ultimately saying much, but anyhoo), and I found his friendship and... 'romance'/marriage of convenience – kind of – passably convincing and, well, maybe not emotionally satisfying, exactly, but tonally so.
World-building:
It just wasn't good, and that's that. So here's my advice: do not, I repeat do not pick this series up if good, engaging or interesting world-building (and theming, give me a second) is essential to your enjoyment of fantasy. My ex most definitely 'lied' to me there, so don't make the same mistake I did!
Theming:
Nothing, nada, zilch... beyond the most basic, bog-standard, baby's first steps into the nihilistic, edgy-adjacent message that: 'Life is meaninglessly random, randomly violent, and violently meaningless' (and even then it's a fairly milquetoast version of that). I guess there was also a very basic bitch 'power corrupts' motif (if you can even call it that). But like... putting aside the fact I'm not personally into nihilism, I find this kind of stuff unremittingly BO-RING, and uninspired to boot. So that's that.
That being said, if you're in the mood for entertainment-driven fantasy, this lack of theming (and deeper world-building) won't be a problem – more power to you there!
So I don't think First Law is trash, or 'offensively bad', right. It's just... incredibly mediocre, and the sum of it was definitely lesser than its constituent parts for me. I do not even remotely get the hype for this one, but, as always: to each their own!
PS: and it's just not that funny either, quite frankly.
Character work-wise: I got a smidge of character development, I'll give it that. With Jezal (subverted Aragorn) and Logen (subverted Jon Snow) especially. I also liked the latter a bit more in this one. However, I freaking called it that he and Ferro would fuck, and I hated how that went down.
Theming-wise: still nothing to report... beyond 'baby's first steps into nihilism' levels of: 'life is meaningless beyond the friends we made along the way' type stuff I find profoundly uninspiring and, honestly, pretty tedious at this point.
World-building-wise: eh, we got a bit of background lore in this one, sure, but it still wasn't anything to really write home about.
Plot and structure-wise: book two was a little tighter, I guess. But then it also pulled a twisty twist towards its end I found more juvenile than anything else. Or I mean... it stank of D&D style 'subversion for subversion's sake', and I'm just not about that. Although, honestly: I wasn't exactly upset by this either, because I just... did not care. 😂
Whatever. It was fine, like I said, and I'll see the trilogy through.
PS: I guess I kinda like Glokta and Ardee's relationship.
This was a lovely art- and reference book about (some of) the folklore, mythology, etc... of Welsh fantastical creatures. I loved the author/artist's art style, and the fact they featured all of the creatures' original Welsh names (and yes, a pronunciation guide is provided at the beginning of the book). I enjoyed recognising some of them from my having read The Mabinogion a few years ago as well. 🙂
My two complaints, and why this isn't a +9/10 for me: I feel like more textual information could've been provided for each creature, beast, spirit, etc... and that the book could've been a little longer. But I'm also a greedy bish when it comes to this stuff, so make of that what you will! 😜