pauraque | Entries tagged with books: year: 2016

In this steampunk alt-history novel, a group of Fabian Socialists and African-American missionaries become founders of a new nation in central Africa in the late 19th century. With a boost from talented inventors and new technologies (some plausible but a bit early, like airships, and some fanciful, like clockwork cyborg limbs) they're able to challenge oppressive Belgian rule in the region. This alters the course of history in a sprawling, decades-long narrative of international intrigue, featuring a huge cast of characters in a complex web of love and hate.

So, you know when a TV show gets canceled but they still have a few episodes left, or maybe they get a movie, and the writers do a speed-run of all the remaining unresolved plot threads, basically hitting the highlights, and you have to mentally fill in all the other stuff that would have happened if they'd been able to take their time? That's what reading this book is like. Shawl had enough ideas here to fill a series of six or seven books if they'd taken it at a leisurely pace, but instead it's all packed into 400 pages.

I'm not sure I'm exactly complaining, though? I don't think I'm quite the right audience for the material as presented (way too much romance and breakup drama, not enough speculative tech, disappointingly little followup on one character's intriguing steam engine kink) so if there were six or seven books, I doubt I would have read them all. A relatively quick overview of how it all plays out was enough to satisfy me. But on the other hand, if I'd been deeply invested and wanted to sink my teeth into every detail of the plot and the interpersonal stuff, I probably would have been disappointed, so I guess I'm not sure who the ideal reader for this is.

I have read a few of Shawl's short stories, and I'm starting to get the impression that they are not a writer who likes to go into intricate detail about things. I do think they have it all in their head, but it reads to me like they're more invested in writing the exciting, intense highlights than the in-between explainy parts. Which, honestly, I can relate to—I can find that stuff a slog to write, too! But even if it is in your head, it's not in the reader's head until you put it there.

There actually is a sequel, which at a peek sounds like it steers away from steampunk and leans more fantasy, which isn't necessarily what I would have expected (thought there are some magical elements here too). Either way, my interest level is probably closer to "read a detailed synopsis" than "actually read the book."

The 1979 alt-history novel Malafrena, set in Le Guin's fictional Central European country Orsinia in the years leading up to a revolution, was only available from my library as part of The Complete Orsinia. In addition to the novel, this 2016 omnibus edition includes a new introduction from the author, as well as all eleven stories comprising Orsinian Tales, two other stories which were in her 1996 collection Unlocking the Air, and three short poems, two of which were previously unpublished. So if you love Orsinia, this edition seems to be the definitive way to experience it!

Unfortunately I don't love Orsinia, and I didn't love Malafrena either, though I didn't dislike it as much as I disliked Orsinian Tales.

The novel centers on Itale Sorde, a young political activist from the provinces who moves to the capital city and starts a newsletter that is critical of Austrian rule and promotes the restoration of an independent Orsinian monarchy. The narrative is somewhat sprawling, also keeping up with some of the people Itale left behind at home, as well as following various of his friends and associates even when their paths diverge from his.

The things I liked about it were the vivid descriptions of physical setting and what it is like for the characters to be present as events are unfolding. I've never been in a violent political insurrection, and I do not think Le Guin ever was either, but I felt very convinced by the living, breathing details of how she wrote the one towards the end of this book. The confusion, the waiting, the hiding, the crowding and pushing and knocking down, the uncertainty about who is where, who's in charge, and if anyone is winning—it feels real. (The realistic, non-idealized depiction of a battle was also one of the things that stuck with me from Planet of Exile.)

( The things I didn't like were many of the same things I didn't like about Orsinian Tales. [cut for length and negativity] )

This is part three of my book club notes on The Black Fantastic. [Part 1, part 2.]

All of this batch of stories are available online!

"The Venus Effect" by Violet Allen (2016)

( The authorial voice repeatedly tries to write stories in different genres, only to be stopped each time by the Black protagonist falling victim to police violence. )

"The Secret Lives of the Nine Negro Teeth of George Washington" by Phenderson Djèlí Clark (2018)

( What it says on the tin, in an alternate universe where magic is part of daily life. )

"The Hospital Where" by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah (2018)

( An aspiring writer makes a Faustian bargain. )

"The Ones Who Stay and Fight" by N.K. Jemisin (2018)

( A response to Le Guin, in which a utopia has a dark side. Maybe. )

This is part two of my book club notes on The Black Fantastic. (Part one is here.)

"Sanford and Sun" by Dawolu Jabari Anderson (2015)

( Sun Ra makes a guest appearance on the 1970s sitcom Sanford and Son. )

"A Song for You" by Jennifer Marie Brissett (2015)

( A girl finds the disembodied head of a singing android who lived out the legend of Orpheus during wartime. )

"Tender" by Sofia Samatar (2015)

( A woman who wrecked her life as a human undergoes a cyborg transformation so she can monitor a radioactive waste disposal site. )

"The Malady of Need" by Kiini Ibura Salaam (2016)

( This is the second time I've read this story and I still don't know what happens in it. )

A convenience store is a world of sound. From the tinkle of the door chime to the voices of TV celebrities advertising new products over the in-store cable network, to the calls of the store workers, the beeps of the bar code scanner, the rustle of customers picking up items and placing them in baskets, and the clacking of heels walking around the store. It all blends into the convenience store sound that ceaselessly caresses my eardrums.

Keiko has worked at the same convenience store her entire adult life. Outside the shop she's bewildered by unspoken social rules, but inside it, there's an explicit protocol for everything—how to stand, how to smile, how to say good morning. In this well-defined and orderly world, she is happy and fulfilled. The only problem is that as she ages into her thirties, her family increasingly pressures her to abandon that world and pursue marriage and children instead. But if all they want is for her to have a man in her life, maybe all she has to do is grab the nearest unattached man and fake it for their benefit?

I'm trying to think of the best way to describe this book. It's devastating and hopeful, hilarious and dark as fuck. The summary makes it sound like a fake-dating romp, and it does have elements of that... except the guy Keiko fake-dates is a disturbed misogynist who thinks the world is against him (we'd call him an incel, though I don't know if that maps exactly onto Japanese categories of disaffected men) and when Keiko takes him in she considers that she'll probably have to feed him at least once a day and wonders if it'll be a problem that she's never had a pet before.

Keiko is obviously autistic (though the word isn't used) and she is kind of my hero. Her deadpan literalism lays bare the absurdity of society's expectations, and while her difference makes her vulnerable, she's far from helpless. The depiction of what she goes through is so on point. I was especially struck by the character of her sister, who's the closest thing Keiko has to an ally in her family. She gives Keiko tips on how to explain why she still works at the convenience store in a way that "normal" people will accept—but when it comes down to it, what she really wants is for Keiko to change. This kind of... conditional scaffolding is familiar to me, and was one of many aspects of the book that made me feel like if I didn't laugh I was going to cry.

I have no idea what reading this book would be like if you weren't autistic. For me it felt like having a conversation in my native language after only speaking a foreign language for years and years and years.

This is part 2 of my book club notes on The Way Spring Arrives and Other Stories. [Part 1.]

"The Restaurant at the End of the Universe: Tai Chi Mashed Taro" by Anna Wu (2016), tr. Carmen Yiling Yan

( A time-traveling meditation on the rise and fall of people and societies. )

"The Futures of Genders in Chinese Science Fiction" by Jing Tsu (2022) [essay]

( Discussion of the depiction and participation of people of marginalized genders in Chinese SF. )

"Baby, I Love You" by Zhao Haihong (2002), tr. Elizabeth Hanlon

( In the not-too-distant future, a programmer works on a holographic virtual baby while his real family life falls apart. )

"A Saccharophilic Earthworm" by BaiFanRuShang (2005), tr. Ru-Ping Chen

( After a disabling accident, a theater director believes she can teach flowers to dance. )

"The Alchemist of Lantian" by BaiFanRuShang (2005), tr. Ru-Ping Chen

( Every time a godlike being helps a human, their own exile in the mortal world is extended. )

In the waning years of apartheid, Trevor Noah was born in Johannesburg to a black mother and a white father. He was raised primarily by his mother, only able to see his father in secret because, of course, interracial relationships were illegal. Even after apartheid ended, he grew up as an outsider everywhere he went, seen as neither black nor white nor Coloured (i.e. multi-generationally mixed-race). He survived by making himself a chameleon, learning to speak everyone's language and becoming a go-between, flitting among the different factions and tribes like an intercultural butterfly through lucrative hustles from impromptu food delivery to DJing block parties to selling pirated CDs.

This was an eye-opening look at the South Africa of the '80s and '90s, offering a multifaceted perspective on what it was like on the ground, and some frank and incisive insights into how South African racism is both similar to and different from racism in other places. It's very much in a skilled storyteller's voice, suggesting the rhythms of a one-man show or stand-up routine. I was especially fascinated by how his side-hustles traced the rise of turn-of-the-millennium technology—the same technology I grew up with. I was downloading songs from Napster and burning CDs at the same time he was, a world away and yet connected. It strikes me that the internet is a global version of the intricate intercultural exchange that Noah was navigating in his own neighborhood every day.

While I found the book an engaging read, I did get a certain sense of emotional distance. Even when talking about situations that were clearly emotional for him at the time, it felt somehow like he was holding the reader at arm's length. A lot of memoirs feel like the author is talking about their past experiences as a way of explaining who they are today and how they got there, but here I felt more like Noah was trying to provide a window on events that he thought the reader might find informative or entertaining, not so much to reveal himself as a person. And that is entirely his prerogative! Memoirs don't have to be emotionally intimate. But I found it less impactful in that way, which I think says more about me as a reader than him as a writer.

Content note: Graphic depictions of domestic violence and cruelty to animals.

This book presents microbiology as ecology—the study of the natural habitat that is the body, and the tiny creatures that live in it. Each person and animal is an environment unto themselves, an island inhabited by a dazzling diversity of microbes which interact with their host and each other in a complex web of collaboration and competition. The immune system has been imagined as a military border guard attacking all invaders, but it may be more insightful to think of it as a national park service, managing the balance among species and culling only when needed. A macroorganism without its microorganisms isn't clean and healthy, it's a wasteland.

Multicellular life itself evolved from the union of originally single-celled species billions of years ago, and we've been multiplicitous ever since, our bacteria evolving inside us, and us evolving alongside them. Many animals can only develop their normal characteristics in the presence of their microbiome; if raised in sterile conditions, desert woodrats don't develop their special ability to feed on poisonous mesquite trees, and bobtail squid that should be bioluminescent remain dark.

Fair warning if you are prone to existential crises, this book might give you one. What does it mean to be one? If you can't function without your internal ecosystem of billions of creatures, in what sense are you separate from them? We can't even point to the genome as the marker of distinction, as genetic material from ancient strains of bacteria can pass into the host organism's cells and become part of its DNA. The book explores the possibility that the borders of biological individuality are blurrier than we imagine, and suggests that what we see as one person or one animal is in some sense an emergent phenomenon.

Yong's writing is clear and vivid, with good use of figurative language that gets his point across without overdoing it. He gives ample attention to the scientific process and the people who do the research, from the early development of microscopy in the 17th century through to innovative bacterial manipulations that prevent mosquitos from transmitting viruses in the present day. He's also skilled at navigating the controversies and unknowns of microbial medicine. There can be a lot of "woo" and breathless hype around things like probiotics and (yikes) fecal transplantation, but Yong is always careful to be evenhanded and manage expectations.

One area where he could have been more thoughtful about his presentation is in discussing claims that probiotics can "cure" autism and obesity. He is clear that these claims are overblown and medically irresponsible, and I wouldn't say he endorses the implication that neurodivergence is bad and all fat people need to lose weight, but I wish he had done more to explicitly challenge it.

He does a better job of sensitively handling the range of human differences in his later book An Immense World—which is what you'd hope for! I do think An Immense World clearly shows six years of Yong's growth as a writer and a journalist, but I Contain Multitudes is also an excellent book and well worth reading.