Words are inadequate

Gene Wolfe, Soldier of Sidon

Everything I wrote about the previous two Latro books is still true. This time Latro goes to Egypt, though, so the gods are substantially more opaque. No more gimmes like "the goat-footed man, who says his name is All." Instead we've got a host of animal-headed deities and the occasional long-dead deified Pharaoh.

Latro falls in love briefly in the second book. In one of the more repulsive bits, his "friends" use this later on to exploit him and convince him to stick around. He gets a wife in this volume as well. I'm impressed by his consistency: he's loyal to his wife even when he doesn't remember that she's his wife (must be Twoo Wuv), and he instinctively distrusts the creepy woman who keeps hitting on him, even when he doesn't remember that he's married. Yay for characterization.

I really appreciated that this book opened with the reappearance of the physician who first treated Latro, way back at the beginning of Soldier of the Mist. Seven Lions's return is welcome as well, although we don't see nearly enough of him.

The ending screams "if this one sells well enough there will be a sequel." I'm not sure whether I'm happy about that or not. Mostly because, well, Wolfe is getting on in years, and his /next/ book isn't a Latro book either.

(And what the devil is the invisible baboon that hangs around the priest of Thoth?)

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Gene Wolfe, Pirate Freedom

Gene Wolfe's time-traveling pirate book. Wolfe's non-series books still tend to feel far slighter than his longer works, and this is no exception. It's got great atmosphere and characters (best and truest pirates ever), it's got typically Wolfean musings on the nature of identity and the unreliability of narration, and it's a delight to read. It just . . . didn't inspire the same love in me that the Latro books, or Long/Short Sun, did. I guess someone who's got more of a thing for pirates might feel differently.

The narrator's voice feels an awful lot like Able's, from Wizard Knight. It'd be kind of awesome if he somehow tied this and Wizard Knight and another book or two together . . .

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Sarah Monette and Elizabeth Bear, A Companion to Wolves

Anything that delivers a smackdown to Anne McCaffrey's pioneering work in the field of psychic animal companions is good by me. You know what my favorite part of this book was? The wolves don't talk. They don't think in words, they think in impulses and sensations.

There's not a lot of Intricate Plot here. Coming off of a Gene Wolfe bender that particular lack was even more noticeable than it might have been. In its place there's rock-solid characterization and society-building. (And also cold. This book made me feel the cold in a way that only _Left Hand of Darkness_ has before.)

So, the society. There are trolls, and they eat people. To stop the trolls, there's an army of big psychic wolves and the men who bond with them. The bond goes deep enough that the emotional state of one can affect the other. This causes interesting things to happen with gender, since only men can bond with wolves, and when a female wolf goes into heat, well . . .

What really disturbed me about the wolfcarls' society wasn't the gang-rape, actually. I mean, yes, disturbing, but not in quite the same way. No, what got me was the role that Isolfr (the main character, bonded to a female wolf) was being put in. Specifically, the scenes where he's being actively courted by other wolfcarls. Given useless trinkets. Flirted at (not with, /at/). Generally treated as someone who'd be swayed by such ridiculously insulting behavior. You know. As though he were female in an overtly patriarchal society. My brain snapped after about the second such scene and it took me several days to put it back together. If he'd been female I would have thought "how insulting" and moved on, but because he's male it hit me a lot more viscerally.

I didn't really understand what it was that was getting me until I read this review, and then, bam. I've been trained to reject caretaker work as lesser, as bad, and it took seeing a man first forced into and then actively accepting that role to make me realise it. Yet more work to be done in my head. (Thanks, Bear and Mole. I think.)

Gene Wolfe, Soldier of the Mist
Gene Wolfe, Soldier of Arete

These books purport to be translations of scrolls dating from approximately 479 BC. Latro, a soldier ("latro" is a Greek word meaning "mercenary" and probably not his original name) has been hit on the head during a battle (in which he fought for the Great King[1] against the Greeks), and can no longer remember anything for more than about twelve hours. In an effort to stave off the inevitable confusion, he writes down where he's been and what he's done. The tricky part is that Latro is a non-native Greek speaker, so he translates place names into their nearest equivalent. He speaks a great deal about the city-state of "Thought[2]," for instance, and late in the first book visits the "Hot Gates" (recently featured in the classic Frank Miller music video "It's Raining 300 Men"). So, half the fun is playing "What the devil is Latro talking about now?"

The other half, of course, is the story. Latro's bonk on the head has taken away his memory, but given him the ability to see the gods and other spirits. This is sometimes helpful, as when Theseus gives him advice during a wrestling match, and sometimes less so, as when he accidentally raises a lamia during a necromancer's seance. So interesting things tend to happen around him. And not only supernatural things; in the second book he happens to be in the company of powerful Athenians and Spartans, and watches their machinations play out in his fragmented way. It's sort of a puzzle, a "why did that just happen?" type of thing, but it works because the events themselves are compelling.

Latro's character is remarkably consistent, and we (though not he) can see real growth in a few of his constant companions. I would have liked to know more about Seven Lions, the Ethiopian soldier who stays with Latro from the beginning. Perhaps he will show up again for Soldier of Sidon.

Like most of Wolfe's books, these made me want to read them again so I can pick up on everything I missed the first time through. Not easy reads, but well worth the effort.

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[1] Xerxes I; the battle in question was almost certainly Plataea ("Clay"), the land equivalent of the Persians' naval defeat at Salamis some years earlier.

[2] Athens.

Gene Wolfe, Caldé of the Long Sun

Long Sun 3, in which Silk gets put in charge of the city, more or less. There's a rebellion that's been in progress since the end of the last book that gets sort of resolved. I really don't remember a lot about this volume, but I don't doubt that it was important to the plot.

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Gene Wolfe, Exodus From the Long Sun

A conclusion to the series. Some backstory revelation, an invasion of Silk's home city, and [as expected] a departure from the Whorl. The series started to fall apart just a little in this volume; the return of the god Pas in particular felt forced. That's overshadowed by the way-coolness of what's at the end of the Long Sun, though.

And then you get the epilogue, where Wolfe sets up for the next series and tacks on his standard confusing-narrator issues to an otherwise somewhat straightforward series. Bah. Bah, I say. This cheapens the work he's done building up the characters in the rest of the book. Bah. [The series as a whole is still my favorite of his work.]

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Patrick O'Donnell, Mutts: I Want to be the Kitty

Cute comic strip about pets and owners. O'Donnell writes some of the best cats I've ever seen [Bucky and Catbert are parodies; Mooch is much more real], and his artwork is distinctive and functional. He's not always as funny as Darby Conley or Stephan Pastis but he's got heart, and that's worth something.

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Gene Wolfe, On Blue's Waters

Book of the Short Sun volume 1. Hoo boy. The narrator issues are back in force here. The book is told in first person, but the cast of characters distinguishes between the 'protagonist' and the 'narrator.' Ow.

This is the story of Horn, a pupil of Silk's, who now lives on the planet Blue with a bunch of colonists from the Whorl. He's been sent back to the Whorl to find Silk and bring him to Blue to rule over the colony. [Silk got separated from the departing colonists at the end of Long Sun.] The book's split between two timelines: Horn writing down his journey from home to the lander that will eventually take him to the Whorl, interspersed with Horn talking about what's going on in his life right now. If this sounds confusing, it is. Adding to the confusion, the people he's hanging around with are calling him Silk, though he's convinced that he's Horn. Ow ow ow.

This isn't anywhere near as easy a read as Long Sun. I question whether it'll be as rewarding, too.

Neil Gaiman and Gene Wolfe, A Walking Tour of the Shambles

This is the sort of book that says something utterly outrageous, laughs a little too loud, and then abruptly stops laughing and stares directly at you, so that you're pretty sure it wasn't really kidding. It's ostensibly a guidebook through a scary section of Chicago ["mysteriously untouched by the Great Fire. 'Ya can't burn Hell,' one resident joked"'], and is in actuality a chance for Gene and Neil to write something fun and creepy. Probably not worth $16, but what the hell.

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David Callahan, The Cheating Culture

Perhaps the most fundamentally depressing book I've read in ages. Callahan explores the widespread epidemic of cheating in modern culture: he looks in-depth at sports, education, and finance, and mentions other areas as well. I found the "how the heck did we get here" section especially enlightening: I'd heard Jonathan expound on the combination of sixties individualism and eighties greed before, but Callahan also excoriates the conservative focus on "values" for its tacit insistence that only results matter. Plus there's the Red Queen effect, where if you don't cheat and everyone else does you're handicapping yourself . . . it's an ugly mess. He offers some potential solutions in the last chapter, but overall this isn't a solution book, it's a problem analysis book. Everyone should read this one.

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Ted Naifeh, Courtney Crumrin and the Night Things
Courtney Crumrin and the Coven of Mystics
Courtney Crumrin in the Twilight Kingdom

Three wonderful comics featuring a junior-high-school outcast studying witchcraft. "Coraline, only not by Neil Gaiman and a comic book" is how I once described it. Courtney's a far more believable character than the average angst-ridden teen. She's genuinely unpleasant to people, for starters. And when you see her emotional fragility it feels genuinely fragile, and not like something that can be solved by whisking her away to someplace magical.

The first volume is a collection of four short tales; the second is a complete story arc. The third is curiously inbetween: its first issue was a separate story, and then the next three belong together. The second was probably the strongest of the three but I can see an argument for preferring the third one. Good stuff all around, though.

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Terry Bisson, Bears Discover Fire

The best short-story collection I have read in a very, very long time. Witty prose and ideas, good characters, and just plain fun. Includes the brilliant title story, as well as "They're Made of Meat" which can be found online, and a weird piece entitled "Coon Suit" that appeared in F&SF when I had a subscription. A lot of the shorter stories in the book have an eco-theme; in the Afterword he says that this is because A) he's conserving paper and B) if they got longer they'd get preachy. I dunno; some of them are a bit preachy already, but it's hard to see thme becoming any more so.

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Jeff Smith, Bone

Sixtyish issues of epic comic book story. Originally published in nine volumes. I'd probably feel gypped if I'd had to buy nine books to get the story told here, but in one volume it's worth having. It's at its best when Smith's laying on the funny ("Stupid, stupid rat-creatures!"); about three-fifths of the way through the plot starts to get pretty serious, and I think the story suffers as a result. I do like the art, though.

Gene Wolfe, The Sword of the Lictor

Well. Well, well, well. Lots going on here, as usual: conversations with Hierodules, wrap-up of some plot threads that have been dangling since book 1, a glimpse at life in a city outside Nessus. There's also a lengthy digression from the plot [I know, I know: how could I tell?] involving a child named Severian and a giant named Typhon. An interesting digression, yeah, but I got through it and realised "Nothing just happened here." Still and all, I'm really enjoying these. They're making me think.

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Gene Wolfe, The Citadel of the Autarch

Um. What the hell just happened? I swear, if I hadn't read that couple of sentences out of Castle of the Otter I would be so lost. As it is I'm only sort of lost. I think I understand what happened, but the time-travel stuff has me really weirded out. I think I'll need to reread these in a year or so. [Though on reflection, some of it makes a bit more sense. Only a bit.]

The Ascians are really neat. They're sort of the end result of Confucianism crossed with totalitarianism; they can only say pre-approved phrases, and it's not clear whether or not they have names. ["I am Loyal to the Group of Seventeen."] Dorcas is dealt with appropriately, and the apparent contradictions in her revivification aren't dealt with, but are pointed out, just like it's pointed out that Severian managed to bring his dog Triskele back to life years before he ever got ahold of the Claw. And the multiple-personality Autarch is fun as well. It was a fun trip, but I'm not too sure where it's brought me.

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Scott Adams, Don't Stand Where the Comet Is Assumed to Strike Oil

Dilbert number twenty-three. The strips in this volume range from fairly funny to "ehh." Maybe it's that my snark quotient is being filled by Pearls, and I thus have less need for Dilbert's corporate-type snark.

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Grant Morrison, Chris Weston, and Gary Erskine, The Filth

Interesting comic book about a secret government agency that cleans up various Illuminati-like messes. There's a lot of neat ideas in here [like the bottled secret agents], but I kept thinking that Warren 'Transmetropolitan' Ellis could have done it all so much better. Probably just a matter of taste. Doubt I'll be reading the rest of The Invisibles, though.

The intro, though, is pure gold. "WARNING: The Filth contains the active ingredient metaphor. If you are allergic to metaphor, please consult a doctor before consuming The Filth." Et cetera.

Jonathan Lethem, "This Shape We're In"

Short book [~50 pages]. Wild. The characters all live in a shape, which appears to be more or less humanoid, though there are some odd contradictions, and various subgroups in the shape have theories about what it is [bomb shelter after a nuclear holocaust, generation ship, etc]. I chuckled at a few bits, and then at around the last few pages, when you realise what the shape is, I was absolutely delighted. Fun to read, and there's deeper bits in there if you go looking for them.

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Gene Wolfe, There Are Doors

A novel of travel between alternate realities, with a protagonist who may or may not be insane. Really, it felt kind of like the kind of thing I'd like to write, except that I don't feel like it wrapped everything up well enough. Though that may be me not fully understanding what went on. It's got a number of neat stylistic tricks, some very cool ideas, and an occasional coming-together of ideas in my head that made me suddenly realise what it was Wolfe was writing about. Still, I dunno. I'll need to read it again to understand all of the subtle sideways things going on, and I don't know if it's worth it. Life is short and there are many books to read.

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Gene Wolfe, The Fifth Head of Cerberus

Okay. Reading a good, solid Gene Wolfe book is like putting together the most gorgeous, intricate jigsaw puzzle imaginable, only halfway through you run out of pieces. So you stare at what you've got and you think "Gosh, this is pretty," and you mentally fill in what of the missing gaps you can, and generally feel like with just one or two more pieces you'd really be able to see the picture, but you're just not smart enough to picture it by yourself.

Ahem. Sorry. Fifth Head is three connected novellas. The first stands on its own, and concerns cloning and the aristocracy of a small planet way out there. The second takes place on its sister planet, which may or not have been the home of a race of shapeshifters who all died out when the first humans landed there. The third takes place on both planets and concerns a character who shows up briefly but importantly in the first one, who may or not be a political dissident trying to overthrow the aristocracy.

If my summary makes no sense, that's because I'm not smart enough to conceive of the whole intricate picture by myself. I am about 90% certain that this book is the smartest thing I have ever read. I am equally certain that upon rereading it I still won't understand what went on. Unlike There Are Doors, I think Fifth Head deserves a second read.