13. Get in Trouble, by Kelly Link
14. 1984, by George Orwell (audiobook)
On one hand, I'm pleased that I am doing a better job of tackling my reading and listening piles much more aggressively than I have by this point in any of the years since I started tracking what I've read. On the other, it's clear that I'm not actually spending more time reading books -- rather, I'm spending more time listening to them. Eight of my 14 completed books so far this year have been audiobooks. Remove the audiobooks from the count, and I'm actually reading at a slower pace than I've averaged over the previous five years.
The other elephant in the room is the fact that I've only read one item published this year. It's been nice to refocus on the backlog, but I'm going to need to redirect my focus fairly soon so that I can start compiling a list of items to consider nominating for next year's Hugo Awards. I've already accumlated a small stack of 2016 issues of the big three magazines -- I'll need to agressively attack those sooner than later.
Moving on to the books listed above...
Harrison's novel was nearly as good as advertised -- I enjoyed it immensely. For a number of what I think are mostly superficial reasons, I was reminded of Richard Paul Russo's Carlucci's Edge as I read it. I'm sure that the fact that it's been nearly 20 years since I read Russo's novel is the reason why I cannot completely explain why my brain made a connection between the two books.
Link's short story collection was problematic for me. I wanted to like this collection. Oh, how I really wanted to like this collection. How could I not? Genre author makes good and is a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize for literature. However, Link's style of story telling isn't something I normally enjoy, and I struggled with many of the stories in Get in Trouble. I could see why others might enjoy those stories, but such insight didn't make them easier for me to digest. Conversely, were a few I really enjoyed, but as a collective whole I was slightly let down by the book.
Finally, I feel like that I should have done something to preserve some of the thoughts I had while listening to 1984 -- that is, more in addition to ones I posted last week. I suppose it's not too late to attempt to reconstruct and/or recall as many of them as possible and compose something similar to what I wrote for the second issue of Some Fantastic back in 2004. The biggest impediment to that is my taking the time away from other things I want really want to do -- such as getting fully caught up with 12 Monkeys on Syfy.
- I'm now nearly halfway through my once every decade rereading (listening to the audiobook, in this case) of 1984. This marks the fourth time I've gone through the novel, and once again I am amazed at the new insights I gained on each successive reading. At the same time, I'm also working my way through Amazon's adaptation of Philip K. Dick's The Man in the High Castle. It's doing wonders for my outlook on the world right now. I almost feel as though a rereading of Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep is now also in order.
- This past Sunday marked the first heavy metal concert I ever attended. Admittedly, Ghost is at most borderline-metal, but their sacrilegious occult shtick has garnered them a following in metal fandom. Anyway, I had a hell of a time (sorry about the pun) and look forward to seeing them live again. I'm sure my enjoyment of the show was only enhanced by the venue -- the Hippdrome near Baltimore's Inner Harbor. I feel like I should post a photo or two I took of the interior before the show started, but in lieu of that let me just say that the oligarchs of the late 19th century Gilded Age did one thing right: they didn't spare any expense on the buildings they commissioned. Today's newly crowned oligarchs could learn a thing or two from their predecessors.
- Just so I have it more readily accessible in the future. a Facebook status I posted as I was leaving for the Ghost concert:
Sally: "You don't look very metal."
Me: "Quick -- give me the eyeliner the kids gave you this morning for Mother's Day. No, wait... That's goth. Never mind."
- Pinkish Black, the opening act for Ghost, was quite possibly the worst band I've ever heard play live. They were aggressively, unapologetically, in-your-face bad. They were a two-person act, with just drums and synthesizers, and frequently it seemed like the two of them were just doing their own thing with little regard to what the other guy was playing. While listening to them, I was suddenly filled with the certainty that liberal use of a theremin would only have enhanced their music. I'm fairly confident that previous sentence has never before been uttered or committed to paper or pixels in the history of the English language.
- One final tidbit from the Ghost concert: as my friend Dave and I sat in our seats, one of the teens next to us just said, "Now I feel like my dad is here." At that moment, I couldn't imagine the evening going any better.
- Today marks the 14th straight day of measurable rain in the DC region. This stretch has easily eclipsed the previous record of 10 consecutive days with measurable rainfall and is very likely to continue for another few days at least. I suppose the silver lining is that we haven't had to turn on the air conditioner once yet.
- From the end of 2011, after I initially removed all the excess weight I had been carrying for years, through the end of last year, my weight has fluctuated in a 30-pound range -- which I'm certain runs somewhat counter to my goal of taking better care of myself. However, in the five months since early December I've kept it within a much smaller 10-pound ban-- this is the longest stretch of stability at a relatively healthy weight in my adult life (I've had longer stretches at far less healthy weights.) This range is still roughly 5-10 pounds where I'd like to maintain, but in the grand scheme of things I don't think I'll be disappointed in myself if I don't manage to make that particular adjustment.
9. Lavinia, by Ursula K. Le Guin (audiobook)
I love most of Le Guin's work, but this won't be a novel that I plan to return to someday. I can see why it won a couple awards and why other readers enjoyed it. However, it just didn't appeal to my sensibilities despite the fact that I genuinely liked the title character.
10. Nevermore, by Rob Thurman
I've now stuck with this series through 10 books, and I think that this is the first one that left me feeling nonplussed. I think that Thurman finally hit the limit of credibility as to how much more she could increase the potential threat to the series protagonists -- quite a feat given that this is an urban fantasy series. The next one is supposedly going to be the last, so I will probably read it for the sake of completion. However, I can't help but think I really should have stopped after one of the earlier installments which contained a decent stopping point.
11. On the Edge of Gone, by Corinne Duyvis
I wanted to enjoy this book far more than I did, given that the protagonist was high-functioning autistic. Unfortunately, I found myself skimming at times. It wasn't a bad book, but it wasn't one that particularly grabbed me. It certainly didn't help that one element of the ending was simply nonsensical.
It's not often that it happens, but occasionally I forgo caution and allow myself to just be optimistic about something for no good, discernible reason. That's exactly what I did when I found out that there were 4,032 nominating ballots for the Hugo Awards this year, a new record. I thought it would be enough to drown out the voices of Vox Day and his sick, twisted group of hateful minions and their efforts to subvert a literary award I've held dear for nearly three decades.
I've had the irrational optimism spiked so hard into my face that my forehead bears a reverse imprint of the manufacturer logo that graced the volleyball which harbored that exuberance.
I can't begin to state just how much today's announcement of the 2016 final ballot saddens me. It boggles my mind that any individual or group of people can take such gleeful, twisted pleasure in angering and upsetting others. It angers me that for the second year in a row, the three short fiction categories have been completely hijacked by people who want to turn the Hugo Awards into a game, proving how much they don't really care about the award. I'm bewildered at the notion that they think they are achieving some noble purpose in ruining an award with such a long, distinguished history.
Yes, there will almost certainly be rule changes this year, and, hopefully, today's ballot is the last, desperate act by a bunch of people who will probably get a perverse thrill at their "accomplishment" for the rest of their lives. Sadly, there's no way to judge that until next year's ballot is announced. In the meantime, we're going to have another year where "No Award" either wins or places far too high in too many of the categories.
Fuck Vox Day. Fuck him and all his little Rabid Puppy followers who are barely any more human than oligotrophic pond scum.
Although I've never received an official diagnosis, I have plenty of good reasons to suspect that I am in fact high-functioning autistic. In particular, I'm likely in the part of the spectrum formally denoted as Asperger's Syndrome. During the process of getting the man-child tested for autism and his subsequent treatment and aid, I've had this suspicion validated by a few professionals who were and are working with him. Yet, I don't feel the need for an official diagnosis as I've been incredibly fortunate in some of the friendships I've made as an adult. The guidance and input I've received by those in my life have provided a good deal of training and insight that allow me to navigate the neurotypical world far more easily than I did as a child and teen.
That's not to say that I don't see the value of a potential diagnosis and professional assistance. I'm just not certain that the amount of time in energy in engaging in such a process will be fully justified by what I could gain from it. I say this because I never use my non-neurotypical tendencies as a simple excuse for behavior and statements that cause issues with others. Instead, whenever a situation arises where I've inadvertently offended and/or confused someone, I reach out and ask for guidance so that I'm less likely to make the same mistake in the future. It's resulted in an oddly paradoxical situation for me: I care deeply about the feelings of others and try to respect them, even though I frequently don't display or experience empathy in the way that I sense that I should.
By necessity, I became more selfless and kept my ego in check as I underwent this learning process. It's vital if you're going to interact with others in a fashion that's not instinctual and to accept criticism intended to help you learn. That doesn't mean that I'm a completely altruistic. In fact, I still harbor some rather intense feelings of intellectual superiority. But, I see it as a weakness of sorts; a prejudice I constantly persevere against.
As a result, I'm certain that a good deal of this is part of the reason why I've steadily gravitated further to the left of the political spectrum as I've gotten older. To me, a core governing philosophy of liberalism is one of empathy and understanding; working towards a greater good is a logical extension of all that. Yet, I think my learning process has produced a somewhat unintended side effect. I have come to see conservatism, with its emphasis on rugged individualism, as a condescendingly selfish and lazy political philosophy.
I know that such an assessment is highly prejudicial/judgmental. I do actually understand why someone would choose such a way to view the world, and I would go so far as to state that it's not a completely immoral filter to guide your actions and beliefs -- so long as you are not actively using it to justify intentionally maltreating others. However, it jarringly runs counter to all my efforts to be more understanding, empathetic, and easily understood. In short, I've worked hard to work with the world around me, and I see how much happier it's made me. Thus, when I see someone metaphorically (and sometimes literally) giving the middle finger to society and saying their individual wants are far more important than the notion of societal good, some of my intellectual snobbery starts mutating into moral snobbery.
In other words, how dare such a person state that no one should have work as coexisting with others and learning how to play nice? What the hell is wrong with such people?
Look, I know that reaction is a fault that lies within me. This is my prejudice. It's just that it's one what I'm finding a lot harder to overcome than nearly all of the others I've harbored and learned to overcome. The funny thing is that over time, I've had to learn how not to take intense discussions and debates over hot button issues personally -- it's another of my non-neurotypical quirks that has caused me trouble in the past. Yet, this prejudice is different because it actually is personal in a way that arguing over the deregulation of the American banking system isn't.
I don't know how successful I will ever be in overcoming the intellectual and moral prejudices inherent in the way my brain's OS is coded. I will certainly keep trying, though, as I've figured out other ways to alter and overcome my programming. I just wish other "neurotypical" individuals would work as hard as I have at playing nicely with others.
– Agent K, Men in Black
Margaret: “What are you, darling? Where's your costume?”
Wednesday: “This is my costume. I'm a homicidal maniac; they look just like everyone else.”
– Addams Family (1991 movie)
The first half of “Does Carrying A Pistol Make You Safer?” aired on NPR’s Morning Edition, which led to me find it in its entirety online (note: the audio version is notably different from the text version.) I suppose that to a degree I’m glad I read and heard both pieces this because it gave me an insight into the thought processes of people who feel it absolutely necessary to carry concealed firearms. However, some of the interviewees’ statements left me at various moments feeling appalled, saddened, flustered, and angry.
These people are clearly living in fear and are convinced that carrying a gun will make them safer. Unfortunately, as the piece so clearly illustrates, carrying a concealed weapon changes the way one views the world around them. They are constantly performing risk/threat assessment and stereotyping in an effort to differentiate potential bad guys from potential good guys. Worse, they are teaching their children to view the world through fear-tinted prisms – one mother stated, “When we go to a restaurant, my 9-year-old [is thinking] who looks suspicious? What are people doing? What’s an anomaly? Let’s point out people in their cars. We make a game of it, of who can find somebody in their car just sitting there.”
Hearing that made my stomach feel as though I had just driven far too fast over the crest of a hill.
Look, I understand that everyone wants to feel safer, and as a parent I want the world to be a safer place for my son. However, this just strikes me as all wrong. It’s a terrible thing to live in fear, but I just don't get the sense that carrying that gun is making things any better. They may “feel” safer, but their statements belie that belief. I can’t imagine walking into any situation – restaurant, movie theater, concert, etc. – and performing a basic risk assessment by noting the location of all the exits and scanning for potential threats. On top of that, the thought of periodically rechecking my surrounding to reassess everything sounds absolutely draining. I don’t have the inclination or the time, and, quite frankly, such a mindset strikes me as defeatist. You go looking for threats all the time, and you’re going to find them, whether they are legitimate or not.
It’s those wrongly-determined threats that are truly appalling. One of the interviewees stated, “I pay attention to different people, weird people, maybe stereotype people,” and went on to add that he was looking for “Gangbanger-looking guys, maybe guys that look like they’re up to no good or somebody that may think they’re a Muslim extremist or something like that.” I’m sorry, but from my perspective, this ammosexual sounds like more of a bad guy than the overwhelming majority of strangers I run into in everyday life. In fact, stereotyping doesn’t mean shit. The fact is that most mass shootings have been committed by white men, and white men are scarcely ever stereotyped as gangbangers or potential Muslim terrorists.*
But that barely begins to address the issues I have with people who are putting their individual need to feel safe, regardless of the cost, above everyone else’s. To these people, I ask the following: How do I know that you’re not the bad guy with the gun? How do I know that you’re not the one who will pull-and-shoot in response to a situation where it wasn’t warranted at all? You do realize, don’t you, that I view you as a stranger and that the fact you have a gun makes me feel less safe? Or, is it that your need to feel safe completely trumps everyone else’s need to feel safe?
Of course, it’s well understood that we as human beings are awful at personal risk assessment. The majority of gun violence occurs in the home. Furthermore, you are far more likely to be injured or killed in a car accident than you are to be shot at in a public setting. Yes, mass shootings are horrifying and we should be doing more to stop them, but the fact is that there are many other lethal threats in your everyday life that we do almost nothing about. People who are carrying guns to feel safer have woefully, erroneously prioritized the ways to protect themselves.
I know that there isn’t a single thing here that hasn’t been said countless times before and will be repeated countless times in the future. It just continues to bewilder and frighten me that there are people in this world who view the world and interact with it in such a manner. I suppose that it is understandable – I know full well that we all operate with different operating systems and that these operating systems can be somewhat incompatible with each other. I just continue to vainly wish that more people took the time to stop and attempt to the best of their abilities to understand the intricacies of the world around them rather than simply react and then defend that reaction.
* It amuses me to think that the man who made the statement about stereotyping might be one of those men who gets personally insulted when a woman states that she has to treat all men as potential rapists – a risk assessment which, in my opinion, is both defensible and totally understandable.
Yet, five years of basically maintaining a healthy lifestyle hasn't made doing any of the right things any easier. In fact, it's disconcertingly easy to find myself reverting to my "fat bastard" default setting -- something I've allowed numerous times and just happened again. For the past couple weeks, I've been eating rather badly, but at least I've maintained the exercise routine, which has helped minimize the weight gain. As a result, I didn't step on the scale today in an effort to hide from myself some of the self-inflicted damage, letting a few of the extra pounds quickly disappear unseen while I reassert my healthy eating patterns. Thankfully, as far as these mini setbacks go, this one was rather minor, and if I do everything right over the next few weeks, the recently added excess should come back off.
Incidents like this reinforce the bewliderment I feel when I hear people who say things like, "If I don't go to the gym and/or eat badly for a few days in a row, I just don't feel right." Nope; eating badly and sedentary living feel quite nice. In fact, many mornings it's still a struggle to drag myself to the gym, and I make it a point to not even bother keeping certain types of food in the house because I just can't exert any kind of reasonable self-control when they're around. I keep wondering when these efforts magically transform into some kind of ingrained good habit/routine that I easily maintain.
But, today is not a day to dwell on the negatives. I can state without a hint of exaggeration that I've been in better shape for the entirety of my 40s (thus far) than I was for nearly all of my 20s. I'm happier with my appearance and self-image than I've been at any other time of my life, and that is the result of five years of perseverence and hard work. I've overcome each of the occassional setbacks, and despite the difficulties that never seem to get easier to overcome, there is no reason to believe that I can't continue to do the right things -- even when I really don't want to. As a result, I have every reason to expect that in another five years I'll be able to write another post very similar to this one.
I'd like to thank Donald Trump for inspiring me to grab this novel from my reading/listening stack. Though the book is 80 years old, its depiction of the early stages of a corpo-facist takeover of the United States is eerily prescient in showing why a campaign such as Trump's has worked. I also found myself nodding my head in silent agreement with many of the ruminations on human nature and American culture -- many of which are possibly even more true now as they were when Sinclair wrote them. After I finished reading it, I discovered that in 2007 the Libertarian Futurist Society gave It Can't Happen Here a Prometheus Hall of Fame Award. I find this incredibly amusing. While I can see the book appeal to the libertarian crowd, there is no suggestion whatsoever in the book that any kind of libertarianism or proto-libertarianism would be an appropriate response or bulwark to the madness that Lewis depicts America embracing. Then again, a look at the titles of Prometheus Award winners suggests to me that the LFS just loves to give awards to works that show any non-libertarian government running amok -- no matter how plausible the scenario.
8. Analog, December 2015
Part of my push to read as much short fiction as possible before the Hugo nominating deadline, which was a few days ago. It was the first issue of Analog I read in years -- I really prefer the work published in either Asimov's or Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. In an effort to consider stories from as large a variety of sources as possible, I'll continue to make efforts to read an issue or two of Analog every year for Hugo nominating purposes. Having said that, there wasn't anything in this issue that struck me as Hugo-worthy.
- 8:12 PM: At O'Faolain's Irish Restaurant and Pub. For tonight's pub quiz, we're changing our name to Misanthropic Lycanthropes.
- 7:19 PM: My one word review of the Batman v. Superman movie: lugubrious.
- 3:02 PM: Watching Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice at Regal Fox Stadium 16 & IMAX. Based on the reviews, the manchild and I will do our best not to heckle the film. Luckily, it looks like we'll be the only two at this showing -- should we fail in our efforts.
- 12:24 PM: For all those who think government should be run like a business: Libraries have terrible business model, says government
- 11:32 AM: Life achievement unlocked: just submitted my fist ever Hugo Award nomination ballot.
(Really should have done this sort of thing much earlier in life. Thank you, Sad/Rabid Puppies, for finally lighting a fire under my ass.)
- 9:00 AM: The manchild and I will be at O'Faolain's Irish Restaurant and Pub for pub quiz tonight. Anyone who wants to join the Misanthropic Secular Humanist Horde is welcome to join us.
(Note: This is a cross-post from Facebook I'm adding to LJ on April 21, 2016 -- I've manually changed the date and time of this post to reflect when it originally appeared on Facebook. I've done this so that I can link to it without changing the privacy settings to the original.)
When people are clearly and wildly missing the point I am attempting to make, I can't help but feel that they are either: a) being willfully and disingenuously obtuse; b) horribly blinded and crippled by their own biases and prejudices on the matter at hand; or c) just really stupid.
I generally keep these feelings in check, but despite my best efforts there are times that my intellectual snobbery really gets the better of me. I don't suffer fools well at all (there's a reason why every woman I've ever dated is incredibly smart.)