books

Unlike any other

“It struck me that distant cities are designed precisely so you can know where you came from. We bring home with us when we leave.” – Colum McCann, Let the Great World Spin

“She wheeled from him, resenting his attempt to scoff away such wonders. The bit of poster had spun a new world before her, excited her, given wild, soaring impetus to her imagination; and now, without in the least understanding herself, she wanted that excitement and the soaring, even though it might stab and rack her, rather than the barren satisfaction of believing that in life there was nothing better, nothing more vivid or dramatic, than her own stableyard.” – Sinclair Ross, “Circus in Town”

I keep meaning to talk more about the books I’ve read lately, starting with China Miéville’s The City & The City. It’s recently been nominated for a Hugo Award, but what I keep coming back to more than anything else is this little piece of description from the jacket copy: “set in a city unlike any other”. And I can’t help but think that this is both fundamentally true and completely and totally false.

Because here’s the thing: without spoiling much, it’s almost immediately apparent just how different Miéville’s twin cities of Beszel and Ul Qoma are from any in the real world, and yet they are both recognizably real cities. They have to be, because as readers that’s where we live — in the real world — and as much as we may look to fiction for escapism and elements of the fantastic, I think what we ultimately want are characters whose own wants and desires, whose problems and decisions are, if not our own, than at least inescapably human. I think this is a reason it’s so difficult for science fiction to create aliens who are truly “the other” — one reason why they’re so often just humanoids with nose ridges or pointy ears or some other single defining trait. Because science fiction, and maybe all fiction, isn’t really about the other; it’s about how we, as humans, react to it. The metaphysics of Miéville’s book are dizzying, but it’s the human side that grants us entry.

It’s telling, I think that he set it against the backdrop of the real world, with the two cities interacting with the United States and other nations, rather than in his fictional Bas-Lag universe. These are cities that could have easily been at home in that world, but it’s clear that Miéville needed the trappings of this world to make his story feel more real.

The story shows us wonders, but by setting them in the real world, it makes them all the more attainable.

April Fifth

It was back to work for me this morning, and all the excitement that that entails. On the train ride into Manhattan, I discovered in my jacket pocket a receipt I was missing last week from my trip to San Jose, so I was able to include it in my expense report, which I finally submitted to accounts payable. It was only about sixteen bucks, from my Friday-night dinner at a local Mexican restaurant, but the company reimburses all personal meals while traveling, so it’s silly not to put in for it.

Meanwhile, I finished reading Colum McCann’s Let the Great World Spin. I liked, though didn’t love, the book, and I’m definitely going to have more to say about it, hopefully soon. I say that often about the books I read and less often follow through, but I think I can tie this, at least tangentially, to some of the other novels I’ve been reading lately. I think I may read Joe Hill’s Horns next.

Also meanwhile, I bought an iPad, with some unexpected and very generous birthday money that came my way. I went with the Wi-Fi and 3G version, which isn’t scheduled to ship until the end of April, but this afternoon FedEx tried to deliver the dock I bought at the same time. (I also bought a carrying case, and I’m thinking maybe I should have paid a few dollars more and gone with the keyboard dock instead.) Delivery required a signature, so I drove over to pick it up. The woman behind the counter asked both me and the customer in front of me if we were getting iPads, since both of our deliveries were from Appel. She hadn’t seen any come in, she said, and she was just curious what they looked like. I don’t know if she was expecting either of us to pop open the boxes and give her a guided tour, but the woman in front of me was just getting a laptop, and the dock Apple sent me is distinctly unimpressive. I’m looking forward to receiving the actual device.

And really, that’s about it. Our dog came back from the kennel today, and I went back to work. It promises to be a pretty ordinary week.

As a matter of fact, I do know the way to San Jose

Today was a day spent in airports, first in New York, then in Minnesota, and then briefly here in San Jose. I’m a little bit exhausted, though luckily, because of the time difference, I should still be able to get a decent night’s sleep. I’m not completely sure where the conference (and moreover our exhibit booth) is located in the hotel, and there’s some question about actually getting our books to the booth and some unexpected handling charges I need to square with our New York office. But the conference is in the hotel, so I don’t have far at all to go tomorrow morning.

I finished reading The Subtle Knife along the way and started reading The Lamp at Noon and Other Stories by Sinclair Ross, one of the books that Heather sent me for my birthday. I brought it along in no small part because it’s the lightest of the book, but I am really enjoying it so far. Here’s a little bit I liked from “Cornet at Night”:

For a farm boy is like that. Alone with himself and his horse he cuts a fine figure. He is the measure of the universe. He foresees a great many encounters with life, and in them all acquits himself a little more than creditably. He is fearless, resourceful, a bit of a brag. His horse never contradicts.

But in town it is different. There are eyes here, critical, that pierce with a single glance the little bubble of his self- importance, and leave him dwindled smaller even than his normal size. It always happens that way. They are so superbly poised and sophisticated, these strangers, so completely masters of their situation as they loll in doorways and go sauntering up and down Main Street. Instantly he yields to them his place as measure of the universe, especially if he is a small boy wearing squeaky corduroys, especially if he has a worldly-wise old horse like Rock, one that knows his Main Streets, and will take them in nothing but his own slow philosophic stride.

Meanwhile, I wasn’t really up to sightseeing this evening, though I am in a nice section of San Jose, and it looks pleasant enough, at least from my hotel window. I got some room service, and I’m getting ready to fall asleep. Actually, I was getting ready to fall asleep a few hours ago. I’ve kind of lost completely track of time in all the flying.

Tuesday various

  • New research suggests that reading cuts stress levels by 68%. Clearly these researchers have never tried reading Dan Brown or Going Rogue. [via]
  • New research also suggests that food portions have grown significantly larger in depictions of the Last Supper over time. [via]
  • Ever wonder what those ISBNs mean? We have several different ISBN prefixes at work, having purchased and integrated other publishing companies in recent years, and it’s often quite helpful to be able to tell at a quick glance where a book originated from. [via]
  • Are strong female characters bad for women? [via]
  • And finally, Ken Jennings on Gotham City’s museums, banks, and storefronts:

    Maybe I just don’t understand all the challenges that come with running a business in Gotham. It’s true that this is a place with a weird, weird economy. How does one city support five hundred abandoned amusement parks and toy factories?

Monday various

  • I think John Scalzi has it right about this health care bill that passed in the House yesterday:

    As such there was no real political or moral philosophy to the GOP’s action, it was all short-term tactics, i.e., take an idea a majority of people like (health care reform), lie about its particulars long enough and in a dramatic enough fashion to lower the popularity of the idea, and then bellow in angry tones about how the president and the Democrats are ignoring the will of the people. Then publicly align the party with the loudest and most ignorant segment of your supporters, who are in part loud because you’ve encouraged them to scream, and ignorant because you and your allies in the media have been feeding them bad information. Whip it all up until health care becomes the single most important issue for both political parties — an all-in, must win, absolutely cannot lose issue.

  • Meanwhile, Poppy Z. Brite has some harsh things to say about David Simon’s new HBO show Treme. The title of her post should tell you exactly how she feels about their filming in her hometown of New Orleans. It raises some interesting questions — namely, are some wounds too raw to be fictionalized, much less re-enacted for television in the same place? And what, if anything, is Treme‘s responsibility to the neighborhoods in which it films? Is it meeting that responsibility, just by bringing jobs and revenue to the city? (After all, you can’t please everyone, no more how sensitive your approach.) Can Simon, as an outsider to the city, even hope to do the tragedy that was Katrina justice? Frankly, you couldn’t stop me from watching this show, and I think if it’s handled with even half the depth and honesty as The Wire, it could terrific and emotional television.

  • Paul Di Filippo has the line-up for the ultimate Beatles-reunion band. This is either a terrfic or terrible idea, I’m not sure which.

  • Oh great, a book of inspirational quotes from Sarah Palin. I can’t fucking wait. [via]

  • And finally, I’ve mostly avoided all these Chatroulette videos (and the site itself), but Ben Folds’ live-show use of it was surprisingly awesome [via]: