Folly of the Faithful Canine

When I pulled this off my shelf, I had forgotten, if I ever knew, that it was not a novel. It is an incomplete collection of Larry Niven's short stories, excerpts from novels, essays, and (in larger print) commentary thereon. I figured that this would be enough to scratch my sci-fi itch.

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Now reading The Kingdom of Copper by S.A. Chakraborty. Back to a Middle Eastern flavor.

It's easy to tell from the cover that Yoon Ha Lee's 2019 novel is written with younger readers in mind. For starters, the top reads "Rick Riordan Presents," and Riordan is best known for the Percy Jackson series. (Further reading tells me that Disney publishes all books with that header.) Second, the one illustration is a little more cartoony than usual, albeit not to the point of evoking comedy. I knew I'd finish before long.

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It's been almost a year since my last pre-1900 novel. I think I'll try Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe.

This was my first taste of Frederick Pohl in nearly five years. It was also more promising than the previous, partly because it kicked off a longer series. The two were published in consecutive years, so it's not like he had time for dramatic change.

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Now I'm knocking off a short book so I can pick up a new one around the beginning of my vacation. My current selection: The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi.

The guy who gave us THX 1138,
Along with several shorts that evidently weren’t so great,
Was crashing on the sofa of another young auteur,
Then working on The Godfather, their reps still immature.

His prospects in L.A. all gone, he’d moved to New York City
To meet with folk in cinema who’d show him any pity.
His greatest longshot chance: United Artists’ David Picker,
Who blew him off until he laid it on a little thicker.

The two would meet again soon at the festival in Cannes,
Where something made the CEO a more obliging man.
He paid the guy a bit to write American Graffiti
But didn’t like the script that came. So much for that entreaty.

When Universal made the film, the budget sure was low.
The buzz got bad, so Picker let his backup story go,
But one exec enjoyed the film: the son of Alan Ladd,
Creative head at Fox, who sought to know what else he had.

The young director’s father wished he’d join the same career
Of selling desk equipment, but the thought made Junior sneer.
Perhaps this had an influence upon a certain villain
He’d write for his next film (for whom the actor had no billin’).

Most everyone involved assumed the film would not succeed.
The Jaws director differed, but the rest would not take heed.
Imagine their surprise when it became an instant smash.
From that point on, George Lucas never would be strapped for cash.

I had been misled by the back cover of this early edition, which indicated that this would be the end of the series. Isaac Asimov published his fourth entry nearly 30 years later. Since the third one ends less than halfway through the Foundation's projected thousand-year timeline, I'm kinda glad he didn't stop there for good.

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My next read is Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo. I've had enough short books in a row.

That didn't take me long, did it? Robert Mayer's first novel, while not a graphic novel as it appears from the outside, nonetheless has fairly few words per page on average, particularly since there are 37 chapters in 231 pages. I don't remember where I heard of it, but it sounded kind of like Watchmen with a lot more laughs. Whether or not it inspired Alan Moore, it was certainly a predecessor, from 1977.

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I have now picked up another fairly short read, Princess Academy by Shannon Hale. The Newbery Medal tells me it's not even YA, and right now, I could use the assurance of cleanliness.

I was under the impression that this Lois McMaster Bujold work lay outside the Vorkosigan saga, but a timeline at the back tells me it's set about 200 years before Barrayar. I see no further connections yet. Maybe it's like how the Foundation series follows the Robot series but feels different enough not to be bunched together. At any rate, no other volumes are set before this 1988 one, so you don't need to know anything in particular going in. And Bujold wastes little time getting to the key premises.

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Feeling ready for another tome, I have selected A Game of Thrones, which I'm sure already means something to you.

I understood this to be a sequel to Callahan's Crosstime Saloon, but it bears no more resemblance to its predecessor than That Hideous Strength bears to the rest of the Space Trilogy. For starters, while set in New York City, it makes no mention of the saloon. Mike Callahan gets only occasional scenes and doesn't really affect the plot. It's not even a series of short stories; it's a novel.

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Without meaning to, I've begun another partly comedic book, Spindle's End by Robin McKinley. Heh, from Robinson to Robin.

I may have given up on William Gibson, but I wasn't turned off from all cyberpunk literature. After all, I've enjoyed the genre on screen many times. Surely there would be a suitable book for me. So I took a chance on my first Neal Stephenson novel.

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My next read is Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. It's been praised by other minority female fantasy authors.

Mary Doria Russell is the only sci-fi author I know to have been an anthropologist by trade. After pitching a story idea and getting no takers, she opted to try her hand at a different kind of writing. This may explain why her 1996 novel does a few things not advised by seasoned authors.

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Next up is a recent birthday present, Naomi Novik's Black Powder War. Given the previous Temeraire entries, I call it a safe bet not to be depressing.