Now reading (The Book Thread)

I got about half way through Gravity's Rainbow before I ran out of bread crumbs. So I've started on Coalescence by Stephen Baxter instead, then comes Ring by the same, then The Time Ships by the same, then Vurt by Jeff Noon.
 
Soviet Science Fiction

Asimov, Isaac, ed. Soviet Science Fiction. New York: Crowell-Collier, 1962.

The introduction is by Asimov, and covers a theory of the evolution of American science fiction in three stages between 1926 and the book's publication. While confessing broad ignorance about the state of Soviet science fiction, Asimov proposes that the genre had not passed beyond the comparable American second stage (ca. 1938-50) in which the nature of the stories had passed from being adventure-dominant to technically-dominant. He doubted the third stage, the sociologically-dominant, would occur in the Soviet Union, since the nature of the Communist revolution and the patriotic demands of Soviet culture seemed to discourage speculation about alternate cultural forms.

The volume, which originally retailed for $0.95, contains six stories by five authors:
Belayev, Alexander. "Hoity-Toity".
Strugatsky, Boris and Arkady Strugatsky. "Spontaneous Reflex".
Kazantsev, Alexander. "A Visitor from Outer Space".
Kazantsev, Alexander. "The Martian".
Gurevich, Georgy. "Infra Draconis".
Savchenko, Vladimir. "Professor Bern's Awakening".​
I started reading Savchenko's story earlier this evening. None of the stories so far have been particularly weak, although for reasons I cannot express, I would say Gurevich's "Infra Draconis" stands out as particularly enjoyable. Belayev's "Hoity-Toity" is perhaps the "best" according to a Western literary standard, but the whole question is up in the air.

The volume is out of print, and seemingly rare. So far, I've only found one listing for it online.
 
I'm reading Silk by Caitlin R. Kiernan. It was the winner of The International Horror Guild Award For The Best First Novel and a finalist for the Bram Stoker Award for best first novel. So far it kicks ass.

God, I love horror :)
 
I just finished "The Road" by Cormac Macarthy. Great read!!!

Now today I just started " The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand.
 
Deerskin by Robin McKinley. She made her name by writing fantasy novels for teenagers, but this one is adults-only. As in all her books (that I've read anyway) the protagonist is a young woman (it is, innocuously enough, about a princess and her dog), but some really really bad shit happens to her--things that could only happen to a young woman. It was just draining to read, but it was so engaging and so well-written that I couldn't stop. It has a cleverly crafted surprise ending that is somewhat redeeming, but still I can't help saying to myself, "This girl has been through hell and it's changed her forever."
 
C.G. Jung; Viking edition.
A book of his most representative works. Interesting so far, especially his interpretation and experiments on dreams.
 
Old familiars

I've been doing a lot of reading these last weeks, but it's been a rotation through my favorite authors. The two most recent, though, were books I hadn't read before:

Robin Hobb, Ship of Destiny
Steven Brust, Jhegaala

The first is the third of a fantasy series called Liveship Traders, and exponentially better than Hobb's Farseer stories. The other is the latest in Brust's Taltos cycle, and is set immediately after the close of Phoenix, and before Athyra.

Other than that, it's just been thousands of pages of Barker, Bradbury, Brust, and Cady, with a little bit of non-fiction on the side. And Rushdie's Haroun and the Sea of Stories, which I read to my daughter about once a year.
 
Finished all those other ones I mentioned. Vurt was especially weird, but good. Now I'm on to Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson, very good so far.
 
Started Tom Clancy's Fighter Wing but the first few pages have so many factual errors I don't think I'm going bother with it any more.
 
Gun Play

I read through Gun Play, by Michael Thompkins, last week.

Disclaimers, first: The author is a friend of mine. Also, it took me over a year to get around to reading the book.

Gun Play is the first installment of the "Shooting Shrink" series of mysteries about Dr. Tom Reynolds, a police psychologist who finds his relatively quiet life in Palm Springs upended when he becomes involved with the investigation into a contract killing at Tahquitz Country Club. The story, originally written under a different title, involves Doc's efforts alongside his good friend, police Lt. Brett Wade, to protect a young, homeless witness to the crime, Chris Parker, an aspiring musician. The story has earned praise from readers who work in law enforcement as well as Hollywood story consultant Chris Vogler. At least one online review (searching for the link) considered Gun Play a potential starting point for a new direction in crime fiction.

That said, however, I have absolutely grilled my friend about a few of the technical problems with the story. My overly-critical eye (I'm always more forgiving of authors I am not associated with) detects certain rhythmic problems. With the exception of a couple of continuity errors, the rhythmic challenges are the only real problems with the story. Largely, this involves the dialogue, which occasionally reads too simplistically and mechanically. For instance, nobody actually says, "How do you run twenty-six point two miles?" Most of us would say "twenty-six miles" or "so goddamn far". Little things like that. The actual development of characters and dialogue maps very well, and as he learns to better manage his sense of rhythm, the stories will start to shine with all the gleam and polish of a well-seasoned writer. 'Nuff said.

The second installment, which I'm reading through in manuscript form, is, technically, finished. I'm pushing Thompkins for another rewrite, since I can be a devastating critic when called upon, but we'll see what comes; there is no shelf date for the latest chapter yet.
 
currently reading The Four Zoas-William Blake probably the greatest visionary these isles has ever produced a man not just of his time but for all of time.
 
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