March 2024 Reading Summary

March saw us do a week of travelling, and though I managed to read some at airports and at night in hotels, I did lose a lot of reading time overall.  There were also several astronomy nights in there, where I traded my night time reading for star gazing.  Despite this, I managed to get through 11 books, one of them a slim volume of poetry.  So here they are....

 

This month included my last Silverberg SF reading.  All done.  Tout fini, as they say in Montreal.  This time I read the last volume of his short stories, published in chronological order.  So these were stories from the late 90s  up to around 2010.  VOLUME 9:  THE MILLENNIUM EXPRESS 1995-2009 contains 16 stories, each one introduced by the author.  Several are novellas, which was Silverberg's preferred length of story (70-90 pages, usually).  Many of the stories are quite poor and not really worth reading, but there were a few gems.  "A Piece of The Great World" is from 2005, and is 72 pages long.  This novella is directly related to Silverberg's brilliant full length novel series told in At Winter's End and The New Springtime.  He had plans to write a third novel in the series, but it never came to be.  However, a detailed outline was written, and this novella relates one part of that unfinished trilogy.  Though a good enough story, it cannot replace the missing epic novel we all hoped would be forthcoming one day.  The story takes place 200 years after people have left the long winter cocoons.  Readers get to fly across the country this time, and then visit part of the southern coast of the Mediterranean Sea, on an anthropological expedition to find the last remaining group of a vanished race.  The entire premise of the story is quite sad, though.  Well worth reading for fans of the two novels.  "Defenders of The Frontier" is from 2010, and is 40 pages long.  A depressing but well told tale that Silverberg wrote for an anthology of stories about warriors.  This would make a great little film, or even a theatrical live stage production.  11 men at a frontier outpost have lost contact with their home city over the years.  When no other enemies can be located, they contemplate leaving their fort and attempt to return home.  Well done!

 

Cover art by Tomasz Maronski.

 

Savage Scorpio is the 16th book of Kenneth Bulmer's Dray Prescott series, and the second one in the Valian Cycle.  Bulmer is now so comfortable with his Dray Prescott hero, as are we, that we can enjoy seeing his character trying to grapple with his own character development.  He considers himself a peaceful man, even as he goes about chopping up enemies with his sword.  These enemies, however, are usually asking for it, and attack first.  The ones who survive an encounter with Dray are usually conked on the head and put to sleep while he carries out various clandestine actions.  There is usually some form of humour on nearly every page, which also helps keep the pages turning.  In this adventure, the Emperor of Vallia, Delia's father and Dray's father-in-law, is being poisoned by enemies, and Dray and Delia must get him to the sacred pool in time to save his life.  There is no love lost between the two men, and Dray only helps because of Delia.  This adds to the frustration level of things for readers, for Dray is never thanked for his life saving heroic deeds, but it also adds to the humour, as the tense scenes between the two men are often quite funny.  As usual for each successive volume, we learn a bit more about the Star Lords, those mysterious figures who seem to control Dray as if he were their puppet.  This is another solid entry in the series.

 

From 1956 comes E. C. Tubb's Trail Blazers the kind of story that most people would recognize as a 'true' western.  It concerns a cattle drive from Texas to Cheyenne, Wyoming, before there were any cattle trails to follow.  Besides natural obstacles such as desert, gullies, rivers, mountains, etc. there were also Indians to consider, and an evil bunch of gangsters in Kansas called the Jayhawkers.  Once again Tubb's very enlightened view of Indians comes through loud and clear in the voice of his hero.  But that doesn't stop a lot of Indians from getting killed, as well as whites who get in the way of the drive.  One of my favourite TV shows as a kid was called Rawhide.  It starred a very young Clint Eastwood as the assistant head drover, and Eric Fleming as the man in charge.  It ran for 8 seasons and a total of 217 50 minute episodes.  The unforgettable theme song was by Dmitri Tiomkin.  Tubb's novel predates the series by 3 years, but is so close to the Rawhide series in spirit that it's hard to believe that it wasn't part of it.  As usual with Tubb, this is a good read, and not far from the truth of what the early west was like.

From 1995 come the first book in Michael Moorcock's Second Ether Trilogy.  It is called Blood: A Southern Fantasy, is 336 pages long, and is a truly awful book.  Mixing SF pulp fiction (the really bad kind) with some kind of avant garde style of writing, there isn't a single redeeming page in this unholy mess of a novel.  This isn't the first Moorcock novel this reviewer has panned, but I hope it will be the last.  There are four main characters, two men and two women.  They are gamblers, after the Earth has pretty much been swallowed up by a vast black hole sort of thing near Biloxi, MS.  After all, what else do people in Mississippi do but gamble.  Our heroes inject themselves into the Game of Time, and play for stakes that only Moorcock might understand.  As usual, it's Chaos against Law, and the gamblers are hoping to keep a balance in the multiverse.  So what.  Many reviewers of Moorcock are truly afraid to call him out when he goes off the rails and wastes our time.  This novel goes way off the rails (deep into the muddy Mississippi River) and wastes our time.  I dread the thought of reading the two sequels, and may not...

 

Lastly from the Avon/Equinox stable of writers comes the next book, Havana Hit, from 1974, in the exciting series of adventures undertaken by Burt Wulf, vigilante.  It is 154 pages and is book #5.  Formally of the NYPD narcotics squad, and before that a Vietnam veteran, Wulf is out to single handed take down the drug trade in America.  So far he is doing a pretty good job, too.  Though this one has its share of murder and explosions, and even a sort of car chase, it is a much more restrained story than the previous ones.  Leaving Las Vegas for New York with his valise of recaptured heroin, Wulf's plane is hijacked to--where else--Cuba.  Virtually everyone there who comes in contact with the valise becomes instantly corrupted by the financial possibilities.  Wulf wants his captured valise back, where he has plans to take it to New York, where it had been stolen from the evidence room at the precinct by a bad cop.  But he has his work cut out for him in Havana.  There is a lot more introspection and existentialism in this novel, mostly involving thinking about death.  Wulf is helped by an American freelancer, before ultimately being betrayed by him.  For the second time we see Wulf getting close to someone, but this relationship goes sour at the end.  As usual, Malzberg's writing can get the reader's blood flowing quickly and the heart pounding at times.  Chapters often fly past without readers even knowing they have begun a new one.  A good series so far, and definitely a guilty pleasure.  Still, it's not that much different from a good samurai tale.

 

Now we can move on to my collection of Delphi Classics writers, which seems to grow each month.  Moving alphabetically through the list of writers use to take about a year before I'd be back at the "A" authors.  Now it's more like a year and a half.  I began with a collection of 40 poems by Rabindranith Tagore.  Called The Crescent Moon, it is from 1913.  Several poems, each one about a page long, are accompanied by watercolour images done by friends, harkening back to the tradition of Indian miniature painting.  The earliest poems express feelings towards a new baby (which he compares to a crescent moon), while later ones give a child's perspective looking out towards mother and father.  "Authorship" is quite charming, as the child questions his mother as to why father is always writing at the desk.  They are easy to read, but offer no hint as to what is to come from this man's pen.

 

Next is Olaf Stapledon's third novel.  Odd John is from 1935, and purports to be a case study of a rare and unique child growing up in England.  The author acknowledges the influence of another British writer.  J. D. Beresford's The Hampdenshire Wonder is from 1911, and it's genius child, Victor Stott, is mentioned in Stapledon's book more than once.  Beresford in turn credits Jules Verne for influencing his writing.  Now we just need to establish who influenced Verne.   John's  life is short (he will die at 23, we are told near the beginning).  After 11 months he is finally forced from the womb, but is still premature and only just manages to survive.  He finally decides to walk at six years, and his talking starts late, too.  By ten he is a criminal and murderer, but manages to get his life back on track, though his 'experiments' continue on Homo Sapiens.  The narrator is a journalist, a friend of the family, and becomes John's companion in many of his adventures.  The book becomes much more interesting in the final chapters, as John and others like him establish a colony on a remote South Sea island.  Many races are represented, including two Africans, something I cannot recall from any other novels until recent time.  All are telepaths, and far beyond humans in most things.  In addition, these people are not just freakish in their intelligence, but also in their physical features, which are more than somewhat grotesque.  The main thing that the book makes clear is that a very few people are so far beyond being human in intelligence that they find it impossible to remain sane while living among them.  Stapledon, so far as I have read (first 3 novels) is not so much a storyteller, but a chronicler.  The difference between an author telling us a story and a journalist, if you like.  But he is a pretty amazing journalist.  This book is an odd one, like its main character.  It's difficult to put it into a category of SF, as like his two previous books, it pretty much stands alone.  Worth a read, especially if you sometimes feel like you don't really belong to society.

 

Jules Verne's From The Earth To The Moon was published in 1865.  Like other novels by Verne, this story is filled with the latest up to date science from its day, as well as geographical knowledge of America.  But it's not all about the science; the satire is priceless.  Parts of this book, especially the early chapters, are among the funniest things I have ever read.  Largely poking fun at Americans and their love of guns (some things never change), many other countries also take a hit, especially Britain.  But the author also pokes fun at France, Switzerland, Spain, and many others.  Having recently visited the Florida State Highpoint (345'), it is amusing to see the giant gun built atop a Florida hill over 1800' high.  Also at the time, the highest point in the American Rockies was 10,600', where a large telescope was needed to build to see the projectile once launched (!).  And that mountain was in Missouri!  But geography and science facts aside, Verne hits a home run with this fanciful tale of three men launched to the moon from Earth.  Great fun!  The sequel came later, and will be reported upon here someday.

 

First English edition cover art.

 

Next came another great old classic, H. G.Wells' The Island of Dr. Moreau, from 1896.  This is much more a horror story than a SF one, and indeed becomes quite horrifying at times.  Some of the atmosphere comes through well in the 1930s Charles Laughton version, but the book itself provides all the necessary inner pictures necessary to imagine the island, the doctor, and the native inhabitants.  There have been so many novels set on uncharted Pacific islands, but this must remain as one of the best of them.  What the storyteller has to go through by the end of the novel has to be one of the most harrowing adventures ever told in fiction.  Permanent damage is done to his pysche; even once back safely in London he can no longer view people as harmless and with the ability to love one another.  Moreau's vivisection experiments and his alteration of beasts into men would likely drive anyone mad.  Some parts are actually difficult to read.  A completely amazing and original novel, and one that I would likely read again.

 

The original cover from the 1877 edition. 

 

The Duchess of Padua is a five act play from 1883, and was Oscar Wilde's 2nd play.  It was written for a specific actress, who refused it.  The play has never done well, though in the late 1890s it played in New York for 3 weeks.  It reads like a weak Shakespeare entry.  The action centres around a young man who is groomed to avenge his father's death at the hands of a cruel duke, and the duke's wife, who falls in love with the young man.  It's all been written before, and there are no new lines of any value here, despite a bit of Wilde's wit coming through in the later acts.  It certainly shows promise, however, as the events, action, and writing show the writer to have been very well read and able to maintain a certain tradition and uphold its values.  But we must be patient.  Soon the Wilde we all know and love will be ready to show his stuff.

I finished up with an early Edgar Wallace crime novel called The Four Just Men, from 1905.  The story is about a small group of vigilantes who carry out assassinations of people worthy of being murdered.  In this case, an unjust law (in their humble opinion) is about to be passed in the British House, and they threaten to kill the minister in charge unless he retracts the bill.  Wallace stretches credibility somewhat in his attempt to make the four men super intelligent and infinitely resourceful.  However, in the end, while they do achieve their goals, they barely manage it, and one of them gets killed.  This is pretty good writing, and the pages turn almost on their own.  It helps that the novel isn't overly long.

Mapman Mike

 

 

November 2023 Reading Summary

 Again it was a mixed month for reading, with 5 clear nights of astronomy wiping out 5 nights of reading.  I still managed to get through several books, a few of them quite long.

Beginning with Robert Silverberg, Starborne is from 1995, and is a novelization of a 1973 short story called "Ship-Sister, Star-Sister."  I always have mixed feelings about taking a really good short story and turning into a full novel.  Why do such a thing?  Well, for one thing, it makes putting another novel out there a lot easier for the writer.  And perhaps there is an inner pull to expand on certain parts of the story that were rushed over at the time of first writing.  For this book, I go with the former reason.  Silverberg was lazy, needed to publish his novel a year, and was likely burning out from writing so many great works lately, including his enormous Majipoor series.  And besides, who would ever remember that short story from 1973?  Ah.  Welcome to the world of reprinting everything that certain authors have ever written.  Hardly anything is hidden from view anymore, and indeed with the publishing of all of Silverberg's short fiction in a marvellous series of large edition paperbacks (see my first Silverberg page in this blog), it is so.  In brief, then, the short story is pretty amazing.  But the novel adds nothing much that is needed to enjoy the tale.  Do we really need more background on the several characters aboard the first star ship sent out to colonize new worlds?  Hardly.  The best parts of the novel deal with the first two planets encountered that might be able to support human life.  These parts contains wonderful SF writing, giving a good sense of alien landscapes, and teaching us the difference between what scientific instruments can tell us about a planet, and what human feet on the ground can tell us.  If you cannot find the short story, then read the novel.  Otherwise, the short story will do just fine.

The Tides of Kregen is the 12th book in Kenneth Bulmer's huge fantasy series featuring the adventures of Dray Prescott.  Dray is now involved in a new series of adventures, and starting to learn a bit more of the strange powers that are controlling his destiny.  He has been stripped of one of his most cherished titles, and must find a way to earn back his place among his warrior brethren.  I have no doubt that he will eventually do it.  A decent addition to the story.

From 1956 comes another short (118 pages) but effective western from the pen of one of the greatest of the pulp writers of the 50s, E C Tubb.  I wonder if the author could have ever imagined that someone would read and review The Liberators (also known as "Vengeance Trail", a much better title), in the year 2023.  What remarkable times we live in.  Not so remarkable were the times that fictional General Grant lived in.  A lone Confederate general returns home after the war, to find that his plantation and home have been burned to the ground, his parents murdered by rogue Union soldiers, and his slaves have left the area.  One loyal black servant remains.  Joseph gives readers the side of what it was like to be a slave, and Tubb pulls no punches about the topic.  Joseph is a great character, and he and Grant embark on a search for the killers.  Of course the five men they are seeking are low life outlaws, and the story heads to a dusty and thirsty small Mexican town.  Into the saloon we go, and eventually one of the men is found.

The book has a tight focus, with a small number of main characters.  The action takes place in the saloon first, and then out in the wilderness, where the rest of the outlaws are tracked.  When the Indians make an appearance, again Tubb seeks to educate the reader about their customs, way of thinking, and ultimately hopeless situation that they face in their battle to keep their land.  Add to this the addition of a credible black character (Joseph the freed slave), and the defeated Confederate general, and Tubb's novel would make good reading even today, possibly even in a high school English class, where the concept of vengeance, which is central to the story, could also provide lots of room for discussion.  A quick but decent read.

From 1978 (my edition is from 1986) comes this sprawling 378 page fantasy, Gloriana, owing much to the Gormenghast books of Mervyn Peake, to whom this volume is dedicated.  Besides Peake, other influences could be Charles Dickens and William Shakespeare. Think of Gloriana as a substitute for Queen Victoria, living in the largest palace ever conceived.  Gormenghast, as sprawling as it is, would fit into one wing of Moorcock's palace, which is in London.  Also, think of some of the American colonies as still loyal to England, as is Arabia, India, China, etc.  The empire still glows mightily.

Gloriana's biggest problem is that all lovers leave her unsatisfied; she has never experienced a proper orgasm.  She has rooms and rooms of decadent sexual inhabitants, to which she visits on whims.  This is the first main fantasy novel I have read that brings sex well into the picture, and uses it as it probably is and would used; to gain loyalties and to seal bargains, as well as for pure amusement.  In that sense it harkens towards the writing of Fritz Leiber.  But like Leiber, the book uses sex, but does not dwell upon it.  Queen Gloriana soon has more problems facing her than probably any other monarch in fiction or fact.

The novel begins slowly (like Peake's series), but continues to build throughout.  There are perhaps too many characters for a single book, even such a long one, but eventually most of them will become familiar to the patient reader.  There are so many surprises and twists and turns to the plot that I won't attempt to convey anything of what takes place to move the story along.  But move along it does, to its rapturous conclusion.  The ending itself is one of the novel's biggest surprises.  Certainly one of the best fantasy novels ever written.

 

Published in 2023, Collaborative Capers contains 25 SF stories that Malzberg wrote with different authors.  There is a short interview at the beginning between the editor and Malzberg.  The volume is 273 pages long.  Most of the stories are pretty short, with the longest being about 20 pages.  It is quite a fascinating collection, with Malzberg's voice sounding very clearly in many of the stories, and more subdued in others.  It is a collection probably best read a few stories at a time, rather than at once, which is how I read it.  Two stories are connected; the rest are individual.  There is a story about the Mona Lisa, another two about Van Gogh's painting Starry Night (Stars Nit), one that mimics the writing of Falkner, there is a tie  in to Cheever, as well as a story about Mozart.  Of course the Kennedy assassination (attempt) is also in there, and a few with Jewish themes.  Many stories are light-hearted, though, like the final one, sometimes have a serious underlay.  All in all a very worthwhile collection to acquire and to read.  It is probably a good way to get introduced to Malzberg, or to enjoy him more if you find his solo writing too much to bear.  There are several stories here to which I will eventually return.

That covers the five Avon/Equinox authors, my required reading for the month.  After this I found myself footloose and fancy.  First up came an early novel by Arthur Machen.  The Secret Glory was written between 1899 and 1908, but not published until 1922.  And the final two chapters were not included in that edition, nor were they published during the author's lifetime.  It is a story about a schoolboy, 15, 5th form, at a public school.  He is a loner but must face up to the horrors of such a life, of which he is ill suited.  The story jumps back to memories he has of his late father, and their excursions into the forests and mountains of Wales.  His father instilled a love of deep Nature in his son, and Ambrose has not forgotten those lessons.  In fact, it is those past memories of walks with his father that sustain him and enable him to face the realities of day to day life at boarding school.  While everyone at school finally sees him settling in after receiving a brutal caning, he is in fact in full rebellion.  The story sometimes jumps ahead, as well, to his 18th year when he leaves the school, tries university for a half term, then virtually disappears from the map.

So many people face demeaning lives and are unable to fit into society.  Ambrose is religious, but has been taught by his father about the older Celtic form of Christianity, which he can accept much more readily than the weekly trudge to chapel and the inevitable sermon.  He keeps certain secrets of past events locked in his heart, and this clarifies his vision and sees him through his troubled years.  A quite brilliant scholar, he realizes that what he wants to learn he won't learn at university.  He is a very strange boy, and only an outsider would be able to understand him and what he seeks.  This is a compelling novel and virtually required reading for those who feel that they don't fit in, and enjoy things that most others do not.  His search for what he wants was actually completed at ten years, and he is able to use his past experience to elevate himself spiritually in the present.  One gets a strong feeling that rather than turn out scholars, sportsmen, and jolly good fellows, the public schools in England at the time were great crushers of spirit and innovation.  In Ambrose's case, he was able to stay above the worst of it, keeping his values and beliefs strong within him despite the best efforts of the system to beat them out of him.  A recommended read.

Next up was the 2nd novel by Richard Marsh, Daintree, from 1883.  I enjoyed his first novel immensely.  The Devil's Diamond, also from 1893, was a funny and very original tale (see blog entry from October 1st, 2022).  Daintree, on the other hand, is a tough nut to crack.  In fact, it just might be the worst novel I have ever read.  The story, in one sentence, concerns two sons who wish to leave the farm life behind them, despite their father's wishes that they carry on the good work.  That's it; the whole enchilada.  This novel has more bible quotations than the actual Bible.  Seriously.  Avoid avoid avoid.

I needed a reward, big time, after that.  Dave Barry came to the rescue.  Or so I thought.  His first novel is called Big Trouble, from 1999.  Barry is a very funny guy.  There are plenty of funny things in this novel, which is a crime caper a la Elmore Leonard.  But the pace is unrelenting, with things happening every single paragraph.  And there are plenty of paragraphs.  There is some good satire, especially about voting, and airport security (pre 911 days), and radio programs.  But there is also a good deal of sadism, mostly aimed at women.  And after a while the reader notices that the author is using the same few jokes over and over again (dog and toad get way too much mileage, for one example).  So despite the rave reviews, and the book being made into a film, I would not give it more than 2 1/2 stars.  The beginning showed promise, but ultimately I was left rather chilled and worn out by it all.

Lastly came a very long novel by George Meredith.  Called by some the first truly modern novel, The Ordeal of Richard Feveral is an epic by any consideration.  In many ways it is an astounding novel, and though somewhat bloated with prose in places, it does cut to the quick when needed.  A baronet raises his only son under his own devised scientific System, hoping to turn out the perfect human to sit at his side and eventually take over the estate.  Being separated from his wife, his view of women is not only very low, but he even leaves them completely out of his System.  So when Richard, at eighteen, falls in love with the girl next door, things begin to go awry very quickly.  Meredith has written a novel that was included in the Ballantine Adult Fantasy series called The Shaving of Shagput, which is how I came to know him.  Last October I read his second novel, a brief and not very substantial affair.  This, his third novel, has garnered several tons of literary criticism, which quickly becomes an entire study in itself.  Definitely recommended.  What an improvement in the relating of the eternal father/son struggle compared to Richard Marsh's effort, also read this past month.

 

December reading now commences with one of Robert Silverberg's final novels, The Alien Years.

Mapman Mike

July Reading

 As I am down to five remaining authors in my Avon/Equinox SF Rediscovery Project, I have more time each month to read beyond it.  My secondary main reading project comes from the almost unbelievable Delphi Classics series on Kindle, as I attack the complete works of so many great authors.  The rest comes from more laissez faire choices, including impulse reading.

All months now begin with something by Robert Silverberg, and will continue to do so until his works are complete.  I estimate about nine more months to spend with this great SF author.  The Positronic Man was a collaboration with Asimov, based on one his his earlier stories.  Silverberg has attempted to make a novel out of it, with limited success.  Short stories usually have one main idea that gets developed, whereas a novel can have several, depending on its length and the skill of its writer.  As a novel, this story of a robot that wants to become human is very single minded, never once deviating from its set course.  In fact, it often becomes monotonous.  Stretching it to novella length might work well, but extending it to a medium sized novel seems to be pushing things too far.  Within the Avon/Equinox series I have read much better and more profound stories about robots seeking humanity.  Top honours would have to go to John Sladek for his robot novels: 2 "Roderick" novels, and his "Tik-Tok", both wicked and funny; and Jack Williamson's brilliant pair of robot novels "The Humanoids", and "The Humanoid Touch".  All of these put Silverberg's novel into perspective very quickly.

 

Avenger of Antares is the 10th novel in the everlasting Dray Prescott series by Bulmer.  Our hero continues to search for the secret to the Havilfar flying machines.  They seem to sell ones to other countries that are prone to crashing, but the ones they keep for themselves fly much more consistently.  Under an assumed name he lives in their major city trying to find out more information.  But his plans (as ever) go awry when the teenage daughter of a good friend is kidnapped.  His friend is badly wounded in the attempt, so Prescott sets out to get her back.  She is no helpless child, though, and when she is finally rescued she manages to fight back quite efficiently, aiding Prescott in her escape.  This is a good addition to the series, which, unlike that of Tubb's Dumerest saga, are novels directly linked to one another.  There is endless material here for an ongoing TV series.

 

E C Tubb's own endless series features SF hero Dumarest, and I read #10, Jondelle. This story is also mainly about a kidnapped child who needs rescuing, but this time it's a boy about 6 or 7 years of age.  Our hero makes a pledge to the boy's dying mother that he will get the boy back.  There is a lot of death and mayhem in this tale, but overall it is a very good entry in the series.  At the very end Dumarest gets yet another clue to the location of Earth.  Will he ever find it?  No, since Tubb never saw fit to allow him to.  That is the real tragedy of this whole series.  Tubb died in 2010, and in 2008 the last volume of the series was published.  So don't expect Dumarest to finally end his quest.  Sadly, it will never end.

 

Moorcock's Elric is back in a novel called The Sleeping Sorceress.  Three linked stories are put together as a novel, with Elric aiding a woman sorceress against a common enemy wizard.  The first two stories are OK, but nowhere near the level of writing one might encounter in Fritz Leiber's word and sorcery writings.  In addition, Leiber's works are filled with wit and humour, whereas Elric is a rather dour old soul.  But the final story, "Three Heroes With a Single Aim," (also previously called "The Vanishing Tower") is right up with the very best of the genre.

 

Cover of the month.  The artist is John Picacio.
 

Lastly came another soft core porn novel, Machine, by Barry Malzberg (under an assumed name, but newly released under his real name) written in the late 60s.  Another small time loser loses big, as his newly opened pinball business is shut down by the local police, and his machines destroyed.  Mixed in with the main story is his relationship with two women, one a college coed and the other his ex wife.  Funny, tragic, and mostly very readable.  His thoughts often turning to pinball game  comparisons as he makes love are quite priceless.  Perhaps a little more "erotic" than his other similar novels, there is still a large helping of literary merit to the book.

Turning to "other" books, Kate Chopin's first novel did not find a publisher.  She published it herself.  Written in 1890, At Fault has its clumsy moments, but overall is well worth reading.  Part of the adventure in reading Chopin's works (I've read most of her short fiction) is trying to decipher and sound out her patois.  The way the French Creoles talk, and the way the Louisiana Blacks talk, is rendered as closely as is humanly possible by the author, and most of it is laugh aloud fun to read.  The story concerns a widowed plantation owner, who takes up the work her husband used to do.  She is a morally strong woman, and will not marry the man who comes to love her because he has been divorced (she is Catholic).  Instead, she talks him into going back to St. Louis and remarrying the girl, and to bring her back to the plantation.  Well, that doesn't work out so well.  Various subplots interweave with the main story, most ending tragically.  But never fear, there are happy endings for some of the folk we have come to know.  A highly readable tale, if you are not put off by the local dialogue rendering.

Next up was a mammoth novel by Wilkie Collins, his 3rd.  From 1854 (he and Dickens were very close friends) comes Hide and Seek, an engrossing tale of lost identity, a woman abandoned by her family (at least by her nutcase aunt), and a kind man who adopts a girl child with an unknown past, though he wants to keep her past secret to prevent anyone finding her and taking her away.  Rescued from a life of hardship and beatings in a circus, Valentine Blyth is determined to save her and take her home.  She has the face of a Raphael Madonna, and Blyth adopts her and brings him home to live, to learn how to draw, and keep his invalid wife company.  Due to a circus accident at a young age, the girl is deaf and dumb.  Collins researched this handicap carefully, and besides the young girl's affliction we also have his wife permanently kept in bed because of a painful spine malady.  Quite unusual main characters for a story from the 1850s!  The first of two books within the novel is called "Hiding," and deals with the girl's history and what little is known of her.  The second book is called "Seeking," and deals with how the truth was discovered about her background, and what happened as a result.  Collins is a master storyteller, with no wasted characters or scenes; everything fits and is required to advance the plot along a fairly seamless line.  The characters of Zack, Mat, and Blyth are very well drawn, the women less so.  Still, this is an engrossing novel, and hard to put down once begun.  Recommended.

I always get very excited when the Delphi reading roster approaches Joseph Conrad again.  Lord Jim, published in novel form in 1900 (it was originally serialized), is one of the most legendary books in literature.  For all its length, it tells a very simple tale.  Jim is the focus, and over time and many pages we learn pretty much there is to know about Jim.  His downfall came during a steamship journey carrying pilgrims towards Mecca.  Jim was the first mate.  Their ship struck something during the night, and was in imminent danger of sinking.  There were not enough lifeboats to rescue all the passengers, nor likely even time to get the boats afloat.  The captain and two crew left the ship by launching one boat.  A fourth man died of a heart attack helping launch the boat.  Much went through Jim's mind in the few seconds he had to decide.  He ended up jumping into the lifeboat.  Well, it turns out the ship did not sink, and the pilgrims were rescued by a French boat that towed them to shore.  The captain ran off before the hearing, the two surviving crew members were hospitalized with shock (and alcoholism), while Jim stood his ground to face the music.  The rest of the novel is his search for inner peace, knowing and accepting what he had done.  With the help of Captain Marlow, he eventually finds a tiny corner of the south east jungle that he can rebuild his character.  However, he is ultimately undone by a Gollum/Wormtongue character.  The book is rich in character development and observation, but the storytelling is somewhat awkward.  Marlow tells the entire tale.  Not once do we get inside Jim's thoughts through his character.  Only his words and actions are reported by Marlow, often from second hand sources.  The tale is not told in a straight forward chronological order, but more or less how things pop into Marlow's mind.  This can be confusing and disconcerting at times, and almost requires a second reading.  Still, a truly amazing novel about a man's lost honour and his search to recover at least a portion of it.

Next came Malzberg's choice for best novel of the 1970s.  Stanley Elkin's The Franchiser has to be read to be believed.  From 1976, its 300+ pages spoof an America caught up in the energy shortage and at a time when franchises were making virtually every city appear the same if looked at from a certain angle.  Ben Flesh owns franchises of about 13 different kinds of stores, including Radio Shack, Mr. Softie Ice Cream, a photo booth, a dry cleaners, etc.  He longs for the day when he will be able to drive into any American city and not know where he is, since every place looks the same.  It is a wonderful send up of an America just beginning to spin out of control.  Left a strange type of inheritance by his dying godfather, he must rely on the old man's 19 off-spring (all identical twins and triplets) to be able to borrow money from the estate at the prime interest rate.  He is on the road for much of the book, and we glimpse his version of America in hilarious scene after scene, all played quite straight by our man Ben Flesh.  His god cousins eventually begin to die tragically but uproariously of strange diseases related to their inferior genes, and poor Ben himself has an onset of MS, which he faces as well as can be expected.  This is the 2nd novel this month to treat disease and handicap in the forefront of the plot.  I have never read a novel  like this before, and can highly recommend it to anyone looking for a nostalgic look back to what America was like 50 years ago.  Or wasn't like.  A truly great, highly creative and unusual novel.

Finally came a guilty pleasure.  Since beginning my SF reading and review project I have read a lot of pulp SF, mystery, etc, written by the 24 Avon/Equinox authors.  I have a ton of respect for these highly underpaid professional writers who cranked out story after story to pay the rent and feed the family.  One of the superhuman heroes of my early teenage years was a character named Doc Savage.  Lester Dent wrote under the house name of Kenneth Robeson, churning out novel after novel of the adventures of Doc and his five sidekicks.  Unlike Conan, these were no barbarians.  They were intellectuals as well as muscle men.  Doc trained (hilariously) every muscle of his body two hours each day (though he never seemed to have the time during any of his adventure novels).  Doc could hypnotize, talk any language (even ancient Mayan!), and do just about anything else that circumstances demanded.  I read about eighty of these before finally giving up.  Philip Jose Farmer continued to develop the character in his own novels (and Tarzan, too!), and wrote a truly amazing biography of Doc (reviewed in my Avon/Equinox blog) which I thoroughly enjoyed reading.  In fact, it got me interested in rereading some of the original tales again.  I bought a kindle version of 10 novels, and finally got around to reading the first one.  Man of Bronze, from 1933, is where it all began.  Doc's father is killed for mysterious reasons by a secret cult, and Doc is soon thrown into his first adventure to make it to print form.  We learn all about Doc and his aides, about their headquarters, and some of their gadgets used to fight crime.  After 50+ years, I think I am enjoying the book more than I did as a youth, but for different reasons.  I read the adventures in earnest as a boy, wanting to be like Doc someday.  Now I read and find myself chuckling at every other paragraph, as Doc undertakes feats no other human being could possible undertake.  Great fun! 

Cover of the first novel.  Art by Walter Baumhofer. 

 

See you next month!

 

Mapman Mike

November Books Read

Before my usual end of the month book summary, let me begin by saying that there is great joy at this momentous time at Lone Mtn. Homestead.  What, you may ask, has caused such feelings among the inhabitants?  Our wood pellet stove is back in action, and things couldn't be toastier.  It would appear that a seized exhaust fan motor was causing our problem, and a few squirts of oil later we were back in business.  Today is quite cold, and the wind is howling.  However, inside it's Pina Colada time, and Hawaiian shirt day!  Woo hoo!  Bring on your worst, Monsieur Bonhomme.  We laugh at your pitiful attempts to chill our blood.  At least as long as the exhaust fan keeps working.

In reading news, I got through the usual 8 books related to the Avon/Equinox SF authors, and managed to read 5 unrelated books.  So a lucky 13 for this past month.  First up came Robert Silverberg's At Winter's End, truly one of his very best efforts.  Expanded into an epic novel in 1988, this 404 page novel has been waiting a long time for me.  Appearing first as a novella in Asimov's Science Fiction pulp magazine, this is truly an epic journey.  Ever since reading Olaf Stapeldon's First and Last Men, I have thought often of someone trying to write a tiny piece of that story of humankind that Stapledon simply did not have time for.  In his far reaching history of humans Stapledon blew many people's minds, and it would appear that Silverberg, among many others including myself, was one of them.  At first it would seem that his leap of imagination into the far future of a very different Earth was so far fetched as to almost be completely off the rails.  But putting things into a Stapledon perspective, what we have here is simply a tale of Earth 700,000 years after a meteor bombardment ended all life and froze the planet solid.  A really brilliant story, which I awarded a full four stars.  Another book in this series awaits me, I am happy to say.

Cover of the month by Michael Whelan.  It shows the first emergence of people living underground for 700,000 years, after the ice age finally begins to end. The detail here is commendable, and shows that the artist carefully read at least this far into the novel.

Many of Piers Anthony's early short stories are quite good, though as time goes on they become more and more unreadable.  Anthonology is a collection of short stories from the years 1963-1985.  Though none of the stories are truly classic, several are quite good.  "The Life of the Stripe," about an army promotion stripe, is one of the best, as is "Quinquepedalian," a dinosaur tale that seems heavily influenced by the movie Gorgo. There are enough good stories in the first half, but by the second half of this group I did not like a single one.

It is with great sadness that I now report on the final novel by Harry Harrison, one of the top writers of highly entertaining SF and fantasy.  His Stainless Steel Rat series alone would make him well loved and famous, but nearly everything he wrote is first class writing.  It became such a pleasure, after reading something by Piers Anthony, to next come across a book by Harrison, which would always revive my spirits immensely.  Harrison's final book is the 11th in the much loved series, and is called The Stainless Steel Rat Returns.  Slippery Jim deGriz and his charming (and deadly) wife Angelina come out of retirement for one last heroic mission, and I will be ever thankful that they did.  The plot means nothing, as it is always a fight against evil.  But the characters are everything, and the humour.  Not the best in the series, it is still top quality and great fun to read.

I began a new Dray Prescott series by Kenneth Bulmer (alias Alan Burt Akers), the Havilfar Cycle I.  The first book is called Manhounds of Antares, and it revived my interest in this massive pulp fantasy series.  Bulmer is back on his game.  Things continue to look up for this series, which I had nearly given up on.  I had left it alone for a year before deciding to come back.  I'm glad I did.  The book seems under control, and the story takes its time to develop.  The first few chapters resume the story from where it left off, and after a few hair raising adventures--all minor stuff for Dray--he is happily married to his beloved Delia. They spend a happy year together, and twins are born to the couple, a boy and a girl.  But soon afterwards, Dray is called away by the Overlords to fulfill a mission.  Let the adventure begin!

E. C Tubb's 2nd book of his Dumarest saga is called Derai, which is the name of a woman that our hero has to guard on her return journey to her home planet.  Not nearly as good as the first book in the series, it nonetheless checks a lot of the boxes required for a successful pulp SF novel.  But this novel seems more like a sketch than a finished story.  It could really have used a rewrite, or perhaps two of them.  I hope that Tubb gets back on track for book 3.  I have six of the series books from Kindle, but I won't go much beyond those unless the writing quality remains consistently high.

Next I read the 2nd half of the massive hardcover book by Jack Williamson, Book 3 of The Collected Stories.  The best of the remaining stories had to be "Galactic Circle," a novella from 1935 that once again shows the influence of Olaf Stapledon (see the Silverberg story, above).  A large group of people make a very unique voyage to the edge of the universe and beyond. The science given behind such a journey is more than a little hazy, but at least the author attempts to explain how it works.  It is part adventure story and part romance, and there are a few more major characters than usual in this kind of tale.  This one was fun to read.  The remaining stories are pretty much formula 1930s pulp magazine stuff, which if you've read hundreds of them already, the rest are pretty much the same.

Michael Moorcock's The End of All Songs is the 3rd and concluding (for now) story in a trilogy featuring life millions of years in the future (influenced again by guess who?), and starring Jherek Carnelian and his beloved Amelia Underwood.  The first two books I found a bit taxing to read, as Jherek's innocence of how things work in earlier times is quite exasperating.  However, in the third book (also the longest of the three), he hits a home run, making all my suffering during the first two books more than worthwhile.  I awarded this novel the coveted 4+ stars, the highest rating I give.  I don't recommend only reading this book--just be assured as you read the first two that it is all going to be worth your time.  The philosophy, poetry, and earnest discussions that permeate this volume create a work that holds fascination beyond its mere words, and beyond what this reviewer could ever convey here.  A must read.

Last (and never least) comes a work by Barry Malzberg and Bill Pronzini called Prose Bowl.  Imagine if there were no major sporting events as we know them (I am writing this during World Cup 2022 frenzy), but instead, amidst tens of thousands of live fans, and millions of viewers back home, two pulp writers battled it out midfield, writing a novel in competition in real time.  At the coin toss, the winner gets first pick of two themes that have been selected at random, while the loser takes the 2nd choice.  And they're off!  With a half time show and intense press interest, the Prose Bowl is the culminating competition for the two writers who remain after all the preliminary rounds.  By making it into a competition sport, the authors elevate pulp writing into a mass cultural event.  It is a brilliant concept, very funny, and an easy read.  Recommended to anyone who has read a lot of pulp fiction.

Turning now to books off the shelf, and from my vast Kindle collection, I began with the very first novel by Guy Gavriel Kay.  So far I have read his most recent novel, A Brightness Long Ago, from 2018, one of the best fantasy novels ever written.  And now I have read his first one, called The Summer Tree, from 1984.  It is the first in a trilogy (of course) called the Fionavar Tapestry.  The book shows heavy influences from Tolkien.  There are orc-like critters, a Mount Doom stand in, critters like Elves, and there be Dwarves.  There is a Sauron look alike, etc, etc. But no Hobbits.  Instead, we have five humans from our own time, transported (like the children in the C. S. Lewis Narnia series) to this other world.  Though Tolkien is often scolded for not having more strong women in his books, in my opinion he more than made up for this shortcoming with his creation of Eowyn.  I believe that she is possibly the best female fantasy character ever created by a male writer.  As for the two girls from C. S. Lewis' Narnia series, the less said the better.  Kay includes more women, and gives some of them incredible power.  But more doesn't necessarily mean better.  To me, none of the female characters met so far come near the greatness of Eowyn, or, for that matter, the lead females in E R Eddison's Zimiamvian trilogy.  So while the book is very derivative of Tolkien, so is most of the rest of fantasy writing, especially from the late 70s onward.  Having said this, there are glimpses of Kay's originality in virtually every page, and his incredible way of handling complex characters.  I am looking forward to reading book 2 next month.

Switching now to my collection of Delphi Classics on Kindle, I began with William Morris' 1888 A Dream of John Ball.  Morris has a unique way of looking back to the 1381 Peasants' Revolt in England, and in a supposed dream he travels back in time and meets John Ball, the doomed leader of the revolt.  In addition to hearing Ball give speeches to his loyal followers, we attend a preliminary skirmish, and then spend a good deal of time hearing the writer tell Ball of future times, and how he influenced people hundreds of years later.  Though the book obviously has a limited readership today, I found it quite fascinating, with a commendable look back at an event in medieval history of which I knew next to nothing.

Arthur Morrison is a writer I collected because of his short detective stories written for Strand Magazine, after the death of Sherlock Holmes at Reichenback Falls.  Many critics and readers assumed that the stories of one Martin Hewlitt, private detective, were in fact written by Conan Doyle.  I read his first collection, from 1894, entitled Martin Hewlitt, Investigator.  Containing seven stories, all of above average quality, it can quickly be ascertained by astute readers that this is not Doyle writing them.  Though the cases themselves often reflect ones similar to many of Holmes' cases, the character of Hewlitt is pretty straight forward compared to that of Holmes.  Though the mysteries written by Doyle are intriguing to be sure, it is the character of Holmes, and his relationship with Watson, that readers most enjoy.  Hewlitt has no Watson per se, and seems to have a higher opinion of the police that Doyle's characters.  None of the stories stand high above another here, but they are all satisfying and fun to read.

Next came a collection of 7 short stories by E Nesbit, known mostly for her wonderful children's stories.  Something Wrong was published in 1893, and contains some pretty hard hitting tales of violence and abominable behaviour.  Though all of the stories are excellent and extremely well written, one of them really stands out for me.  "Tim" is the name of a dog that performs tricks for a brutal master who takes a show on the road featuring Tim, a cat, a rat, and a few mice.  Told from Tim's perspective, this is likely the most heart breaking story I have ever read.  It made me immediately want to go out and adopt a dog and call him Tim, and pour all the love into him that I could. And perhaps a cat, a rat, and a few mice, too.

Next came an early work by P D Wodehouse.  The Pot Hunters is from 1902, and was the author's first published novel.  It's a light-hearted and pretty funny tale of adventure and misdeeds at St Austin's, a boys boarding school in England.  Written no doubt for such an audience, it would undoubtedly be enjoyed by high school aged boys from the time.  Though mostly built around indoor and outdoor sporting events, there is enough good story remaining to entertain even those not partial so sports.  There are a few passages that presage the great wit that was to descend upon the world during the author's mature period of writing.  Certainly not required reading for Wodehouse fans, it's still fun to see where it all began.

Lastly came Edgar Allen Poe's only completed novel, The Narrative of A. Gordon Pym From Nantucket, from 1838.  It is mostly a harrowing sea faring adventure, with murder, mutiny, starvation, cannibalism, and other fun adventures uppermost in the plot.  Part fantasy and part true life adventure, the hero, near the end of the story and after too many near death experiences, goes on a search for the south pole with a captain and crew that eventually rescued him from shipwreck.  I've come to the conclusion that in seafaring fiction, there is never a normal voyage.  Only the worst voyage ever experienced makes it to the pages.  The main fantasy elements emerge in the final third of the book, when, at 84 degrees south latitude, warm seas, islands with plants and animals, and tens of thousands of hostile natives are encountered, that we leave the realm of the possible.  What is most bewildering is that the person writing the memoirs (Mr. Pym) dies suddenly after writing 25 chapters, with about three remaining to write.  So we never hear the end of the tale.  This is a quite hilarious ending, and must have enraged many readers at the time, as it no doubt still does.  The book influenced Jules Verne, among others, though it was not a well liked book in its day.  For Poe fans only.

Mapman Mike

 

 

September Books, and A Few Purchases of Note

On December 16th it will be the 250th anniversary of Beethoven's birth.  We had already planned to incorporate many of his works into our nightly listening program next year, and in addition I am embarking on a 1,000 page biography written by Jan Swafford of Beethoven, published in 2017.  A few years ago I read his work on Brahms, and was enthralled for the several months it took me to finish it.  It was like reading a novel, rather than a biography, and I am hoping for much the same with Beethoven.  There are 33 chapters, and I will read one in between every two novels I finish in my Avon/Equinox project.  So far I have read the Introduction, Chapter One (his grandfather, father and mother, and his birth) and the Appendix, which has to do with musical forms used by the composer.

 

Now part of my on-going reading.

I was getting ready to buy the complete works of Bach on CD, something I've wanted to own for some time now.  We have purchased and listened to the complete works of Delius, Britten, and we are just finishing up Brahms.  But at the last minute I put the Bach project on hold, and purchased the Beethoven collection instead.  This makes more sense just now, even though I doubt we will listen to everything (though I am stubborn and persistent).  The collection gets rave reviews, consists of 118 CDs, including multiple recordings of some works, and vintage recordings of many others.  Also, the piano sonatas and string quartets and symphonies are not by all the same people, but a mix of top performers, which I like.  Combined with my own Beethoven collection on vinyl and CD, we are pretty much set for a fun year of Beethoven! 

This set is on the way to our house!

BTHVN 2020 ‐ Beethoven The New Complete Edition (118 CD + 2 DVD +3 Blu-ray Audio) 

 

On to my September reading.  I read ten books related to my Avon/Equinox project, which now stands at 495 books read and reviewed online, and one book unrelated.  I also began the Beethoven biography, a mammoth undertaking.

 

First up was a Piers Anthony novel, as I began yet another one of his series.  Split Infinity is the first of his Apprentice Adept series, which tries to lead his SF fan base into his world of fantasy.  The novel begins as SF, and then changes to fantasy, as we hop back and forth between two worlds, though existing on different planes of the same planet.  An interesting concept, but he doesn't pull it off very well.  I really like Piers Anthony's SF writing, among the best I've ever read.  But after three of his fantasy novels, I am not a fan of his writing in that genre.  I might try one more in this series later, or not.

 

Next came a Harry Harrison non SF novel, called The QE2 Is Missing.  This is a very taut tale about the great ship being hijacked at sea, then found later with all crew and passengers missing.  The novel has a great opening, and a satisfying ending, and in between is some nail biting adventure.  Another winning combination of husband/wife team up (Harrison is great at this) to help catch the baddies.

Next came Bulmer's 1969 Stained-Glass World, a 160 page distopian novel of a drug-filled escapist future, with the world divided between Workers and Uppers.  If the workers don't work, they don't get access to their off duty dream worlds, which is the only reason they work to keep the world running in the first place.  The Uppers have access to better drugs and dreams, and whenever they want.  There are various kinds of security forces, including the toughest of them, the Revenue men.  The streets are mean, and no one ventures out alone.  Very grim, and worth a look.

An early work by E. C. Tubb was next, from 1953, called The Price of Freedom (alias Space Hunger; alias Earth Set Free).  Coincidentally, this story makes an excellent pairing with the Bulmer novel, above.  Tubb gives a very honest and grim look at a truly free society of the future, one that a good deal of Americans are always screaming for.  It is a world filled with private security and bodyguards, assassinations, raids, robberies, and mostly jungle law.  It would no doubt appeal to a certain type of weapons-loving personality, but most people would prefer what we have now, flawed as it is.  A somewhat strange book, though not nearly as strange as the Bulmer one mentioned above.  Fun to read and think about.

 

Next comes Jack Williamson's highly readable adventure story, a retelling of Theseus and the Minotaur, called The Reign of Wizardry.  If, like me, you have always been fascinated by Crete and the Minoans, then this fun novel will be right up your alley.  It gets silly from time to time, and there is one (for me) big disappointment, but all in all this is a good book to seek out in a used book store on a rainy day.

Michael Moorcock's The Quest for Tanelorn concludes his Castle Brass series (3 novels), and Hawkmoon series (4 novels).  It's only 155 pages and easy to read, and in addition to wrapping up the two series mentioned, it also sums up all of his Multiverse writings up to that time (1975).  The three Count Brass books have been added to my all-time list of favourite series, though the four Hawkmoon books, which are good but not great, must be read first.  Highly recommended!

Next came Super-Cannes: A Novel, by J. G. Ballard.  Several of Ballard's books are my favourite books of all time, and this one is right at the top of the list.  Absolutely amazing writing, the book, at 340 or so pages, left me wishing it had never ended.  He hits so many things right on the head in this book that it could provide me with an infinite number of quotes, enough for several years of those little daily tear-away calendars.  One of the best modern novels, without question.  Not SF, but worth it for SF fans anyway.

Cinema by Barry Malzberg is another novel he wrote in the early 70s for a publishing house trying to upgrade itself from publishing standard porn novels.  They got way more than they bargained for with Malzberg.  Despite the sex, which is not pornographic at all, this is great literature, and reminds me of the joke of why blokes used to buy Playboy magazine back in the day ("for the articles, man").  A young woman, a recent college grad, wants to become an actress, and instead gets herself involved in the porn film industry.  Like his previous book for the same publisher, called Screen, this one is tragically hilarious, as we watch the poor heroine get ground down until she has a breakdown.  Doesn't sound very funny, but black humour is hard to explain.  This stuff is jet black.

Last in the cycle comes James Blish, who co-wrote A Torrent Of Faces with Norman L. Knight.  Published in Galaxy Magazine as three novelettes, and expanded and published here as a linked novel, we are taken to a future where Earth is home to 1 trillion people!  Now that's what I call trying to tackle a true population nightmare!  This is a nearly perfect story, so well done and so highly readable, from 1967.  One of the great SF novels, to be sure!

Before resuming my next iteration of the Avon/Equinox authors' books remaining, I now always take a break and read something different.  I returned to my childhood again, reading The Time Machine by H. G. Wells. It is a very well crafted novella, and my only regret is that the author never returned to the theme.  How I wish he had written a sequel!  One of the greatest stories every written, and I was suprised by how well the 1960s feature film followed the author's writing.  The movie did add more things, and left out the far future segment, but overall did a great job of bringing the story to the big screen.

Lastly for September came a novel by Robert Silverberg, as I start over in my reading cycle.  To Open The Sky, like the Blish book discussed above, also consolidated some works previously published in SF magazines in the mid-60s.  Five novelettes tell the story of how interstellar travel was achieved, over a period of some 90+ years.  Many of the same characters return in each story.  It is a very imaginative and unique look at how the speed of light might someday be breached.  Sometimes the writing is a bit too straight forward and not that engaging, but overall this is a well done project.  I wish there had been one more story at the end.

 

I am currently reading a 532 page SF novel by Piers Anthony called Mute (for mutation).  Next month I'll talk about it a bit.  If this or any of the novels mentioned above are of interest, refer to my Avon/Equinox blog.  There should be a link at the top of this page, in the left margin.

Too tired right now to include art from the DIA.  Hopefully next time.  Happy October, and Happy Full Moon!

Mapman Mike