Christmas movie grinchiness

I'm not a huge fan of Christmas movies. I have nothing against them, apart from the occasional overweening sentimentality. I enjoy Christmas for various reasons, but I'm not overly crazy about it, and the same goes for seasonal movies.

On the other hand, for some reason, I do enjoy trying to compile random lists of things from memory: books I read in high school, plays I've seen, things like that.

So, apropos of nothing (except that it's Christmas Eve), I thought I would try to list every Christmas movie I've seen, along with some brief comments.

Friday in the Wild: December 22, 2023

Happy Friday! After a couple of dry weeks, and now being away from home for the Christmas season, I wasn’t sure that there’d be a Friday in the Wild this week, either. Nonetheless, the Internet came through.

In today’s A la Carte post, Tim Challies linked to his 2014 post about the two kinds of blog—content creation and content curation—and why he started doing both. He writes, “I am a pretty normal person and have pretty normal tastes. If I find it interesting and worthy of a few minutes of time and attention, I suppose other people are likely to as well.” I highlight this because that’s basically my philosophy, also. If I find something interesting or helpful or funny, probably someone else will, too.

Friday at home: December 15, 2023

Last week I was unexpectedly out most of the day and evening and didn't get a chance to post. This week I spent a few days under the weather and in no condition to get out of bed, let alone look at blogs.

I'm trying, honest. Next week!

Friday in the wild: December 1, 2023

Years, ago, I used to fill out space on the Crusty Curmudgeon with a series I titled "Friday in the Wild," for showcasing blog articles from the previous week or so that I found interesting or thought-provoking. Now that I'm blogging more enthusiastically again, I thought it was appropriate to reboot it. It gets me writing … but it also gets me reading. So I present Friday in the Wild for the first time since 2014.

Ceci n'est pas un book blog

I am not a book blogger. I promise.

2023 Reading Challenge (and it's still November)

On and off over the last few years, I've engaged in a year-long "reading challenge" as part of my regular reading. Sometimes, this is of my own making: I'll choose some books or set a target of reading a certain number of books on a theme, and try to get through them by the end of the year.

In other years, I came across a reading challenge from a book blogger and followed along. Typically, this kind of challenge consists of a list of categories, about a dozen, say, and the goal is to read a book from each category: a biography, a book of poetry, a book written by a woman, and so forth.

2023's challenge was the latter kind. I came across the list on Ramona Mead's blog, While I Was Reading. (In August, I noticed the site was offline. I've periodically checked in since, and it has returned a variety of error messages. I've seen no explanations elsewhere. Apart from the technical issues, I hope everything's all right.)

Normally when I do a year-in-review post at the end of the year about my reading habits, this is the kind of thing I would tack on the end. Why would I summarize a year of books when the year still has a month left? But since I filled in the last category this morning, I thought, why wait? It gives me something to write, too.

In the burning heat, hanging on the edge of destruction

A lightning review of Nemesis Games by James S. A. Corey (London: Orbit, 2015). Ebook.

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Nemesis Games is the middle novel of the Expanse series, written by Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck under the joint pen name James S. A. Corey. (If you haven't read the first four books in this series, read them first.)¹ While the Rocinante is being overhauled, its crew split up to take care of personal business: James Holden is overseeing the repairs while he assists an investigation into some missing colony ships; Amos Burton pays his respects on Earth to a recently departed friend; Alex Kemal triest to get some closure with his ex-wife on Mars; Naomi Nagata hears that her son, Filip, is in trouble. Colony ships are leaving the solar system through the interstellar gateway constructed by the alien protomolecule, and the Outer Planets Alliance faces an existential crisis. Radical OPA factions organize a Free Navy and bombard Earth with asteroids, causing planet-wide catastrophe.

I really enjoyed the plot surrounding the threat of the protomolecule in the first three Expanse novels, and so I was mildly disappointed when the story shifted in Cibola Burn to the colonists on the other side of the ring. (Not that the switch was bad, to be clear: just that I was really ejoying the previous plot.) So I was glad to see the action return to our solar system. The chapters focused on Amos as he tries to get off the devastated Earth, are the best part of this novel. The scenes of Earth's devastation are tense and Tom Clancy-esque. Corey have done a superb job with this volume. I will likeliy power my way through the rest of the Expanse early next year, and now I'm especially looking forward to seeing how the story pans out.

Footnote

¹ In order: Leviathan Wakes, Caliban's War, Abaddon's Gate, and Cibola Burn. Yeah, Corey love their mythology.

Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts

A review of An Artist of the Floating World by Kazuo Ishiguro (London: Faber, 1986). 206 pp. Hardcover.

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If you were to ask me what my favourite novel was, I would quickly answer, The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro's third novel. My first reading of that novel was a shade under thirty years ago. Despite my love for Remains, until this year, I had never read any of Ishiguro's other books. I decided to fix that situation last year, and so I began January with A Pale View of Hills, and read An Artist of the Floating World in September.

Masuji Ono is an elderly artist—as well as a father, grandfather, and widower—in Japan, a few years after the end of World War II. He is now retired, as his paintings have gone out of fashion. Ono has two daughters as well as a son who died in the war. His older daughter, Setsuko, is married and has a young son, Ichiro, who is fascinated with Godzilla and Western cultural icons such as Popeye and the Lone Ranger. Noriko, the younger daughter, is unmarried. She and Ono are preparing for her miai, or interview with the prospective groom and his family. An earlier marriage arrangement fell through. Setsuko and Noriko suspect it had to do with Ono's past. Setsuko suggests that he take "precautionary steps"—meaning, make amends for his past errors with his former colleagues, in case Noriko's prospective in-laws use them to investigate his history.

Girls just want to have fun

A review of The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton (New York: Scribner, 1905). Ebook.

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Lily Bart is a beautiful young New York socialite. Although she grew up in wealthy surroundings, her father lost the family fortune, and then both parents died when she was 20, leaving her without money. She lives with her aunt, which at least lets her live surrounded by wealth (even if the house's décor is outdated) and move in the social circles she's accustomed to. Lily receives a small allowance from her aunt, which she spends on clothing, but that doesn't leave her enough to cover the thousands of dollars of gambling debts she has incurred playing bridge.

And so Lily seeks a husband. Her options are limited at her advanced age of 29. Her friend Lawrence Seldon is a lawyer with good social connections, but he's not rich enough. Simon Rosedale, a Jewish businessman and Seldon's landlord, is wealthy and climbing the social ladder, but unrefined in his manners. And Percy Gryce is wealthy enough, but he's a rather boring collector of Americana. Nonetheless, Lily sets her sights on Percy.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word

A review of To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co., 1960). Ebook.

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Jean Louise "Scout" Finch is a six-year-old girl living in Maycomb, Alabama during the Great Depression. She lives with her older brother, Jem; her father Atticus, the local lawyer and a widower; and their black cook Calpurnia, who helps raise Jem and Scout. They befriend another child named Dill who visits his aunt in the summer. Together, they develop a fascination with their reclusive neighbour, Arthur "Boo" Radley, whom they have never seen and whom the locals don't talk about. But someone is leaving them little gifts in a tree by his house, so it seems that Boo Radley is aware of them.

The town judge appoints Atticus to defend Tom Robinson, a black man accused of raping a young white woman, knowing Atticus is a man of integrity and will do his best for Tom. Atticus agrees, even though the white townsfolk disapprove. Scout stands up for her father and gets into fights at school, but Atticus tells her not to. Later, when he faces down a mob intending to lynch Tom, Scout (who is there without permission) recognizes the father of one of her schoolmates—whom Atticus has been helping, though he can't afford to pay for his services—and she manages to dissuade the mob.

When Tom Robinson's trial begins, Atticus wants Scout and Jem to stay away, but they sneak in, and they are invited to sit with Calpurnia's pastor in the segregated balcony to watch the courtroom drama unfold.

It feels odd writing a book review of a book that, probably, nearly all of my Faithful Readers have already read. Even in Canada, To Kill a Mockingbird is assigned in schools. I was recently talking to a friend about the books I'd been reading, and she was surprised I'd never read it before. (When I was in high school, we did Huckleberry Finn in grade 10, but TKAM wasn't on the curriculum in any English class that I was aware of.) So here are my first impressions, more than a proper review or analysis. My thoughts are probably neither especially deep nor especially good.

Science Fiction-Free September 2023 wrap-up

This past September was my 20th Science Fiction-Free September, in which I declare a month-long moratorium on reading science-fiction books (whether I need to or not).

Before the month began, I decided on six novels that I wanted to read. Three of them had been on my to-read list for a very long time, and it was high time I actually read them. Two were consistent with my current reading projects. And one was a book that I had on reserve at the library, which I expected to become available early in the month.

I planned for six novels, and I completed all six. This was a first. Apparently the winning strategy is to choose shorter novels than I'm accustomed to. (But not too short.)

About two-thirds of the way through September, and near the start of the fifth (and longest) book, I caught a cold. Thanks to the COVID pandemic, it's been at least two years since I've been sick at all. Not only had I practically forgotten what it felt like, but it also completely drained my energy for three days—to the point that I didn't feel even like reading. I got my mojo back, though, and got the last book in just under the wire on Saturday afternoon.

My favourite novel of the six was the first: To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee. I'd never read it before (nor had I read any of them), and I'm glad I did. I can see why it frequently tops lists of the greatest novels of all time. Runner-up: Joyland, by Stephen King. I've already reviewed it, but to sum up, it's an enjoyable and light piece of crime fiction.

My least favourite was Revolutionary Road, by Richard Yates. It might be the most pessimistic novel I've ever read (though it may have some competition in John O'Hara's Appointment in Samarra). Runner-up: The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton. Neither is a bad novel by any stretch, and I might have thought more highly of each of them individually. I guess I'm not cut out for two highly tragic novels practically back to back.

Coming in in the middle were An Artist of the Floating World, by Kazuo Ishiguro, and Riders of the Purple Sage, by Zane Grey. Both of them are good novels, and An Artist of the Floating World in particular is beautifully written.

I said at the beginning of September that I would write at least 250 words on each of these books. So yes, I still owe a post on each of TKAM, The House of Mirth, and An Artist of the Floating World.

My annual goal is to read 50 books of any genre. An Artist of the Floating World was number 47. Between the end of September and writing this, I've also completed one more novel (Emily of New Moon, by L. M. Montgomery) and I'm halfway through number 49: Nemesis Games, the fifth book in the Expanse series by James S. A. Corey.

In the not-entirely-unlikely event that I ran out of books before running out of September, I had three additonal books lined up:

• The Cellist of Sarajevo, Steven Galloway
• A Confederacy of Dunces, John Kennedy Toole
• Rabbit, Run, John Updike

They also all have a long history on The List, so I'm eager to clear them off. Not too soon, though; I'm going to spend a little while reading some more blatantly commercial stuff.

And now ... this - Oct. 4/23

I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too

The "innovative" MA in Magic and Occult Science has been created following a "recent surge in interest in magic", the course leader said.

It would offering an opportunity to study the history and impact of witchcraft and magic around the world on society and science, bosses said.

[Full Story]

So it's a social-science degree, not actually a degree in magic.

Pity. I know some Muggles for whom a brief froggy existence might teach a few valuable life lessons.

Whatever it is, that girl put a spell on me

A review of Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey (New York: Harper & Brother, 1912). Ebook.

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Jane Withersteen is a wealthy, young Mormon woman in Utah. The local Mormon churchmen harass her because she befriends Gentiles (non-Mormons), and because she refuses to marry an elder named Tull, who wants to make Jane his third wife so he can acquire the considerable property and cattle she inherited from her father.

Tull and his men grab one of Jane's cowboys, Bern Venters, a Gentile, intent on whipping him out of their territory. But a rider dressed in black arrives on the scene, frightening the Mormons into leaving. This new man is Lassiter, an infamous gunfighter and hater of Mormons. He is searching for the grave of his sister, who had been taken from her home and brought to Utah to become a Mormon wife. Jane resolves to use her kindness to influence Lassiter to give up his life of violence.

When cattle rustlers steal one of Jane's herds, Bern rides out in pursuit. He gets into a gunfight with two of the thieves, killing one and wounding the other. He is shocked to discover that the latter is a feared rustler known as the "Masked Rider"—and a young, unarmed woman named Bess. In remorse, they hide in a cave in a secluded valley while he nurses her back to health. After some time, they fall in love.

Come on and take a low ride with me, girl, on the tunnel of love

A lightning review of Joyland by Stephen King (New York: Hard Case Crime, 2012). Ebook.

Joyland is written like a memoir: the adult Devin Jones reminisces about the very weird summer he spent at an amusement park. When his relationship with his girlfriend starts to crumble, he finds work at a small North Carolina theme park as a carnie. He meets new friends, Tom and Erin, and learns that he has a talent for "wearing the fur": entertaining children as Joyland's canine mascot, Howie.

The park's resident fortune-teller, Rozzie ("Madame Fortuna") tells Devin he will meet a girl with a red hat and a boy with a dog. Later that summer, as Howie, he saves a girl in a red hat from choking, which makes him a local celebrity. (Does Rozzie have the genuine gift of precognition?)

Oh, we're halfway there

I've reached the halfway point in this year's Science Fiction-Free September.

As of now, I've read three of the six books on the list and two-thirds of the fourth. By some rather crude reckoning, with half the month gone, I'm roughly 63% of the way through all my planned reading. After blazing through the first three books in a week, I've slowed down somewhat, but I'm still on track to finish the whole list—which will actually be a first in 20 years.

The best book, so far, was To Kill a Mockingbird. I found it quite engaging and heartwarming, and I guess I'm somewhat disappointed I never got around to it sooner. Joyland wasn't half bad, either.

My least favourite book has been Revolutionary Road, which I have already reviewed. It's not a bad book, just one filled with unpleasant people and things.

As I said, I'm about two-thirds of the way through Riders of the Purple Sage. It's all right; I just don't find myself connecting with the story quite as much as with the previous books this month.

Still on deck are The House of Mirth and An Artist of the Floating World. I have read Edith Wharton previously—I studied The End of Innocence in my American literature course back in 1996, and I think it was probably my favourite of the works on the syllabus. And I would still cite The Remains of the Day as my favourite novel, so I regret not reading any of Kazuo Ishiguro's other novels until this year (I started off January with A Pale View of Hills). So I have high hopes for both books.

And, if I do run out of books before running out of month, I've got an extra or two planned. We'll see.

I owe you at least 500 more words by way of review. I think I can pull off a lightning review of Joyland this weekend, probably once I've got Riders of the Purple Sage squared away. I'm still mulling over TKAM, though.

I hope your September is also going well, and you've got something worthy on your nightstand.

Just like witches at black masses

Lightning review of War in Heaven by Charles Williams (London: Gollancz, 1930). Ebook.

An unidentified body is discovered in an office at a publishing firm. The occupant of the office is Lionel Rackstraw, the editor of a manuscript whose author, an arrogant antiquarian, has instructed him to remove a certain paragraph, which identifies a chalice in the possession of a small village church as none other than the Holy Grail. Gregory Persimmons, the owner of the publishing firm, wants to steal the Grail from the church for himself, to use in black-magic rituals, which also involve kidnapping Rackstraw's young son, Adrian. The archdeacon of the church wants to prevent the relic from falling into the wrong hands.

The suburbs have no charms to soothe the restless dreams of youth

Review of Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates (Boston: Little, Brown, 1961). 337 pp. Hardcover.

Frank and April Wheeler are a young couple with two kids. When they met, Frank was studying in the humanities and April was an aspiring actress. They lived a carefree lifestyle in Greenwich Village—until April became pregnant "seven years too soon." She wants to abort the child, but Frank talks her out of it. To support his new family he takes a job in sales at a large business-machine corporation, where his father had worked before him, and they move out of New York into Revolutionary Hill Estates, a Connecticut suburb. They see themselves as something greater than their suburbanite neighbours.

Some years later, they have two children and Frank is still working at the same job. April's part in a disastrous amateur theatre production of The Petrified Forest leads to a roadside argument that ends with Frank sleeping alone, while April sleeps on the sofa.

Frank and April are starting to think they aren't actually cut out for greatness and worry that they are beginning to settle for the suburban lifestyle they had disdained. Then April proposes moving the family to Paris, where she would be able to find work and support the family while Frank was freed to "find himself." But before they can leave Revolutionary Road for France, Frank is offered a promotion and April discovers she is again pregnant.

Science Fiction-Free September, Episode XX

In September 2004, after realizing I had read nothing but a steady diet of science fiction for about the previous two months, I instituted a month-long moratorium on the genre. Instead, I used that September to stretch my reading habits a bit, opting instead for an eclectic reading list: The Gang Who Couldn't Shoot Straight by Jimmy Breslin, Life of Pi by Yann Martel, Here I Stand by Roland Bainton, and Keep in Step with the Spirit by J. I. Packer. I didn't get through my entire list, and some of the selections were a bit dodgy, but overall the experience was a good one. I wouldn't have read Life of Pi otherwise, for example.

Since then, even though my reading is now a lot more diverse—and science fiction is arguably no longer even the majority genre—I've kept up the tradition of Science Fiction-Free Septembers. This is the twentieth SFFS.

Look on my works, ye mighty

Review of The Fountains of Paradise by Arthur C. Clarke (London: Gollancz, 1979). 256 pp. Hardcover.

Two thousand years ago, King Khalidasa of Taprobane (a fictional version of Sri Lanka), wanting to make a name for himself, built a paradise around his rock fortress atop the monolith Yakkagala. Pleasure gardens surround the rock and frescoes of a hundred beautiful women adorn its sides. Huge, gravity-fed fountains at the foot of Yakkagala are Khalidasa's crowning achievement: a sight never seen before on Taprobane.

In the 22nd century, engineer Vannevar Morgan also wants to make a name for himself. His previous achievement, a massive bridge across the Strait of Gibraltar, is unprecedented. But he's set his sights even higher, literally: now he wants to build the ultimate bridge, an Orbital Tower stretching from earth into orbit. There's only one suitable location for the tower: the summit of Sri Kanda on Taprobane. The problem is that there is a Buddhist monastery on the mountain, they have title to the land in perpetuity, and they don't want to give it up.

This is a test to see what MathML looks like on Blogger. $$x=\frac{-b\pm \sqrt{b^2-4ac}}{2a}$$

As you were.

2022 reading wrap-up

Every year end I like to do a roundup of my reading for the year. (Sometimes I even post them.) In 2021, I set a goal of reading 50 books, and accomplished exactly that. I was a little short of the same goal this year. I read 15. It's such an embarrassingly short list, I might as well just list the whole thing with a few comments.