Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen

Books read, late October

Daniel Abraham, An Autumn War. I keep saying that Daniel Abraham is why I keep reading high fantasy that isn't written by close personal friends of mine. This series right here. Every book that has to go back to the library after two gut-wrenchingly bad chapters, all the times I have said aloud, "Thou hast got to be kidding me"--they're worth it, because I get this series. This is the third book. There's a bit of it that's a bit too human where the character in question wasn't very human before. But otherwise it is awesome, and I can't wait to see what he does with the fourth book.

Elizabeth Bear (matociquala), All the Windwracked Stars. Discussed elsewhere.

Sarah Dessen, Someone Like You. I didn't like any of these characters. Well, okay, the sculptor was all right. But he was such a bit part that he barely counts. The rest of them--it was smoothly enough written that I kept going, and still, meh. When the heroine made a pivotal choice, I wasn't as happy as I should have been, because I completely didn't care about her.

Nelson Lichtenstein, State of the Union: A Century of American Labor. This was read for research for a project I'm not currently working on. It didn't have any of what I was looking for. It had all sorts of interesting tidbits anyway. The author seemed to have a great gaping hole in his ability to put himself in other people's shoes, though: he could give specific examples of suboptimal behaviors but could not really get from those to the idea that specific people under discussion might be legitimately put off by them. Worth the time if you can deal with that mental gap.

Terry Pratchett, Only You Can Save Mankind. I'm kind of not looking too closely at the plot of this one in retrospect, lest it disappear, but I had fun while I was reading it and will read the others in the series now.

Ruth Rendell, An Unkindness of Ravens and The Veiled One. Two more Inspector Wexford mysteries. It fascinates me which things are so new to her characters, worth some serious struggle, that are how my world seems that it's always been. This is especially true now that we're into the books that were written within my lifetime, theoretically within my memory. I remember 1985 and 1988 quite clearly, but they were obviously very different for a grade school child somewhere in middle America than they were for an English policeman in his late middle-age. I would have predicted that. But the how of it is sometimes interesting in addition to the character development and the mystery turns being well-done.

Kate Ross, The Devil in Music. Last of the Julian Kestrel books, and the only one set in Italy. I'm really glad to have read this series. They were fun.

John Scalzi (scalzi), Agent to the Stars. Discussed elsewhere.

Jessamyn West, Except for Me and Thee. This covers a similar period to The Friendly Persuasion with the same characters, but since both are largely anecdotal, there's not that much overlap. Very gentle stories about 19th century American Quakers. Gentle is not the same as boring.

Wil Wheaton, Just a Geek. I didn't start reading Wil's blog until extremely recently, so this was all new material to me. I'm amazed at the courage he has in naming very specific names of people and projects in his industry (or rather, one of his industries, since part of this book is the shift from thinking of himself as an actor to thinking of himself as an actor and writer). And--well, yah. Geek. Great big geek. This was fun.
Tags: bookses precious

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