Reading

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other people's books

Books read, June 2025

Death in the Spires, K.J. Charles. An excellent historical mystery, straddling the turn of the nineteenth century into the twentieth. Years ago, an Oxford student was murdered in his room; thanks to one small detail of this case, the surviving members of his group of friends know that one of their number must have done it. But no one has ever been convicted.

The detail in question felt slightly contrived to me, but I accept it as the set-up for what is otherwise an engaging story about personal relationships. The novel proceeds in two parallel tracks, one building up the history of these friends at university, the other showing what's become of them since the murder. It does the thing a dual-timeline novel needs to do, which is keep suspense around the past: yes, we know who's going to get murdered, but the lead-up to that matters quite a lot, first as we see how this group coalesced into such brilliance they were nicknamed the "Seven Wonders," and then as we see how things fell apart to a degree that you can form plausible arguments for basically anybody being the murderer. (I say "basically" because it's deeply unlikely that the protagonist, who is digging back into the case against the advice of everyone around him, is the killer. There are stories that would pull that trick, but this never pretends it's one of them.)

I found the ending particularly gratifying. The past sections do enough to make you like and sympathize with the characters that finding out who's responsible is genuinely a fraught question; once the answer comes out, there's a deeply satisfying sequence that tackles the question of what justice ought to look like in this situation -- for more than one crime. Those who deserve it wind up with their bonds of friendship tentatively healing after years of rift. I got this rec from Marissa Lingen, and she tells me there will be a sequel; I look forward to it enormously.

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memorial

Robert and Gracia Fay Ellwood

I think one or two old Mythies might still be reading here; at any rate, these old friends had been on my mind this spring. Came back to discover that they died a week apart at the end of May/beginning of June.

They met in the very early sixties at the U of Chicago, where both were studying. Robert was a bit on the spectrum; he said, and he stuck with it, he would never date anyone who couldn't read and love Lord of the Rings, which had blown him away when it came out. In retrospect I don't even know how he stumbled across it because to my later knowledge of him he didn't read fiction. Maybe he thought it was a northern saga when he stumbled on the first volume? Anyway, his field was religion and Japanese literature, and I remember him sitting in his rose garden reading copies of ancient Japanese texts for pleasure.

She was also blown away by it, but not especially by him. But he'd fallen hard for her, and when she also loved LOTR, he wasn't about to give up. They married around 1963, I think; by the time I met them in 1967, they were living in West LA, he a professor of Religious Studies at USC. They used to host many meetings of the early Mythopoeic Society; he'd disappear while she socialized with us gawky teens. She was a great role model for us; she was a scholar, married to someone who respected her brains, which was tough to find during the mid and late sixties.

I was on hand to deliver both their kids, now middle-aged. He married my spouse and me in 1980. They became Quakers later; they were firm pacifists and human rights advocates.

Time is just so relentless! But they used theirs well, living gently and kindly, always loving beauty, grace, and laughter.

Rebuilding journal search again

We're having to rebuild the search server again (previously, previously). It will take a few days to reindex all the content.

Meanwhile search services should be running, but probably returning no results or incomplete results for most queries.

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Oneonta Gorge

Our next stop on the trip that day was Oneonia Gorge. It has a tunnel through the rock in between the trees, though we didn't go through it. Instead, we stopped just before it to take pictures of the creek and gorge.( Read more... )

Babylon White

Babylon White by Kit Sun Cheah

The grand conclusion! Spoilers for earlier books ahead.

( Read more... )

Sea Fog

I have been playing hide-and-seek with the rooks in the sea fog up on St Alhelm's Head.

( Not a glimpse of the sea )

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Interview with DeWanda Wise

For Murderbot Day, a great interview with DeWanda Wise, about playing NavigationBot in The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon:

https://www.nexuspointnews.com/post/interview-dewanda-wise

I had worked with Paul on Fatherhood. He literally texted me and was like, "do you want to play a murderous robot?"

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Location: Lenoir City(Nevermore;>!)
Current Music: John Dowland Radio

Hobbit Time;>!

So, I'm sitting on my porch, smoking a Hobbit/Churchwarden pipe, looking downhill to the TVA reservoir cove we live above, watching the birds and bees. Nice.....
This yr I planted Balsam Impatiens in the elevated beds along the N side of the house. My brother, Bless him's heart was in the right place when he put them in before we moved here but he's basically the anti-gardener. He can grow a lawn and that's about it so he didn't know that the N side of a house limits what you can grow. It'd be perfect for mini Hostas but they'd basically be tv trays for deer! I've had/have plenty of Tiarella/heucheras, Bleeding Hearts, Cyclamen and Columbine so after Spring blooms are a bit scarce. I'd originally planned to plant the Balsams in the E garden but with health issues this yr I wasn't able to go about on my knees so I just stuffed them in where there was space. So far they're Mauve and Lilac the former much more vigorous. The Bumblebees love them, esp the Mauves.
Lost pretty much all Lilies not far in the back of the beds to deer. Don't like the leaves but the blossoms?!?
With all the Rain we had this Spring I've lost about 1/2 my Lavender cultivars. Thankfully, most of those were Lavandins and the more sweet(and edible) angustifolias oddly were the survivors...including one vera from seed!
Unfortunately, with the various health issues and accompanying md visits I've hadn't the time, energy or md clearance(just had a spinal electric pain reliever installed 2 weeks ago) to even spend time smoking my pipe and watching the birds(and for you "woo-folk", Nature Spirits;>), let alone keep my beds up. Thankfully, things are slowed WAY down and starting this week I can do more than I have. Got the front 3 ft of the W front yard bed weeded and gave the Salvias a bit of a late "Chelsey Chop";>.
Slow and easy does it!
Cheers, Pat

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New collection: The Atlas of Anywhere!

cover art for THE ATLAS OF ANYWHERE, showing a cool, misty river valley with waterfalls pouring down its slopes

Well over a decade ago, I first had the idea of reprinting my short fiction in little collections themed around subgenres. When I sat down to sort through my existing stories, I found they fell fairly neatly into six buckets, each at or approaching roughly the cumulative size of a novella: secondary-world fantasy, historical fantasy, contemporary fantasy, stories based on folktales and myths, stories based on folksongs, and stories set in the Nine Lands.

Five of those six collections have been published so far: Maps to Nowhere, Ars Historica, Down a Street That Wasn't There, A Breviary of Fire, and The Nine Lands. The sixth is coming out in September, but it's not surprising, given the balance of what I write, that secondary-world fantasy has lapped the rest of the pack -- more than once, actually, since The Nine Lands is also of that type (just all in a single world), and also my Driftwood stories hived off to become their own book.

So yes: as the title and the cover design suggest, The Atlas of Anywhere is a follow-on to Maps to Nowhere! Being short fiction collections, they need not be read in publication order; although a few settings repeat (both of them have a Lady Trent story inside, for example), none of the stories are direct sequels that require you to have read what came before. At the moment it's only out in ebook; that is for the completely shameless reason that replacing the cover for the print edition later on would cost me money, and I have my fingers crossed that in about two months it will say "Hugo Award-winning poem" rather than just "Hugo Award-nominated." ("A War of Words" is reprinted in here: my first instance of putting poetry into one of these collections!) But you can get it from the publisher, Book View Cafe; from Apple Books; from Barnes & Noble; from Google Play; from Kobo; from Indigo; or, if you must, from Amazon in the UK or in the US (that last is an affiliate link, but I value sending readers to other retailers more than I do the tiny commission I get).

Now, to write more stories, so I can put out another collection later!

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New Interview

Great interview with Murderbot executive producer Andrew Miano:

https://www.nexuspointnews.com/post/interview-murderbot-ep-andrew-miano

First and foremost, my partner Paul Weitz read the book for pleasure, not with any eye towards adaptation, and came in with it and said, "this would make an amazing TV show." We all read it and really sparked to it and thought it was unique and special and funny, which is not something that you always get in a lot of sci-fi. [It is] also very meaningful and emotional. It was the whole package so it was very exciting and we went about it. We met Martha... One of the biggest things to focus on is how do you honor the book? How do you translate that to the screen? It's not easy, but I'm very fortunate to have Paul Weitz and Chris Weitz — two smart, talented partners — creating and running the show with their guidance and Martha's support and involvement to sort of capture and stay true to the books.

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stitchery

current stitching

Hmm, last month I linked to things I'm not making, and in March and April I noted putting things on hold.

Lille Kolding has become the first knitting project for which I haven't minded a preponderance of variations upon 1x1 ribbing. The current section is part ribbing and part brioche; the latter is sort of ribbing with tuck stitches. Most likely, the project benefits from being knitted only amidst waiting (not daily).

The blanket project sat quietly in a bag from Dec 2024 till May 2025 while its boredom factor receded. It's become my main knitting at home. At 200+ g (close to half a pound), it's too bulky to be carried around on its 60" = 152 cm circular needle, and it's easier on my hands alongside notetaking for classes than most other yarn-centric options would be. I'd like to finish it while the weather is warm, so that it actually dries after its initial wash.

Shortly before the blanket project went on hold, I began and paused a different multi-hue project. It seems that my brain can keep only one colorful project in working memory at a time---and the blanket will be completed; the other project's yarn will be repurposed. It's a positive outcome, regardless: I began the now-repurposed thing because I'd thought that I couldn't knit blankets. It was to be scarf-sized.

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Latourelle and Coopey Falls

We drove down the historic 30, a 2 lane road that wound around the hills and which crossed paths with numerous waterfalls. Our first stop was Latourelle, which was just off the road. ( Read more... )

Kill the Villainess, Vol. 2

Kill the Villainess, Vol. 2 by Haegi

The story continues.

( Read more... )

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anadrasata

The Travels of Anadrasata Nearabhigan: Day 59

Here we are with Day 59 of Anadrasata's adventures. This episode has taken longer than usual to get up for which I apologise. Part of the reason for that was that when I was writing this, I got ahead of myself and wrote several pages of events that belong in Day 60. So, then I had to go back and write things that actually belong on Day 59.

This piece runs to 2,982 words and I hope that you enjoy it.

Index page.

Ghairniksday, 9 Deichen, 1893 C.E.
Jimool, 27 Sajibu, 2157 T.M.L.
7 Ueuekayomatilistli, 14 Coatl, 6.11.2.1.8.3.15

Dear Journal,

Thankfully today is not another day of rest. When Nais brought me up my warm water this morning she told me that there is some friction between the servants from "traditional" Confederation households and "Imperialised" households below stairs over how things should be organised and handled - specifically rest day also known as the day after tomorrow. There is, it seems, a school of thought which says that the family should go down to the scullery to fetch their own warm water for washing in first thing in the morning. The prevailing school of thought, led by the housekeeper and Cook, says that the family should not be trailing through the kitchen and into the scullery in their night attire in order to wash their faces. Cook had added that she did not need a mob of hungry schoolboys loose in her kitchen among her supplies first thing in the morning, particularly when she has the leftovers from a large, important dinner on hand. The mob of hungry schoolboys seems to include all my unmarried male cousins, and possibly Tekatl Umetlalliyaotl - Cook has been with the family since shortly after Cousin Ghrus and Cousin Poktlilui married.

( Read more... )

Current Mood: accomplished

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Photos: Charleston Food Forest

These pictures are from Thursday. I went foraging at the Charleston Food Forest. It's across the parking lot from the Coles County Community Garden.

( Walk with me ... )

Current Mood: accomplished

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Photos: Coles County Community Garden

The Coles County Community Garden is across the parking lot from the Charleston Food Forest. It's not the kind where you rent a bed and grow what you want. It's tended by the community and anyone can come pick things to try.

( Walk with me ... )

Current Mood: accomplished

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Photos: Charleston Library Butterfly Gardens

We visited the butterfly gardens at the Charleston Library, on June 19 although this is dated 20 because it's after midnight. They were filled with birds, although I didn't manage to catch any pictures of them.

( Walk with me ... )

Current Mood: busy

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Happy Juneteenth!

Today is Juneteenth.

These book lists feature black authors. Take a look if you're searching for black books to read.

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I'm back.

Please forgive mush-mindedness; I'm three days out of the hospital and it's taking time for the simplest thoughts to come back on line.

Scintillation was wonderful, as always. And so was Fourth Street Fantasy Convention--what little I saw of it. No fault whatsoever to the con. All fault is due to the trash human in front of me in a very crowded assisted seating area, who coughed and hacked for the entire eight hour ride, refusing to put on a mask. "It's not a rule! And masks are all political anyway!"

By the next night I had a high temp, joints with ice picks stabbing them, skin like the worst sunburn ever. So I missed a lot, but managed to get to some programming including my panels. And I almost made it, tho by then I hadn't eaten for four days, and drunk only sips of water, which tasted terrible, like rusty pipes.

I was moderating my last panel, and I thought it was going okay when we opened to Qs from the audience and I realized that everyone was curiously black-and-white, then the next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, surrounded by voices.

Here's where perceptions get kind of surreal. I slowly became aware that someone was stroking my arm. I've always known that Marissa L has an infinite capacity for genuine empathy, but I understood it was real. That empathy convey through the slow, reassuring touch, even though when she murmured "non-responsive."

Oh dear. I was not doing my bit! Worse, I'd totally spoiled the panel, yet here I was having somehow floated gently to the ground. I had to get up! Return to my room. Rest! Apologize to everyone for my dumbass move! Yet it felt so much better to lie there, and let trusted voices do whatever they were doing. So reassuring.

I knew those voices. I trusted them. Marissa, who seemed genuinely pleased that I was responsive after all, but she kept up her reassuring touch. (I do know the difference. I've had to drop my head between my knees a few times at distressing moments, and this one specific time, a person I'd known since college kept pawing me, the angle changing in the direction of their voice, as if they were busy looking around the room)

Then E Bear asked for my phone code, and I knew that voice, it's Bear, of course she must need my phone. I trust Bear. Then came the questions as I began to rouse a bit. Scott L, long-serving firefighter and fully trained EMP started what my spouse (who was a volunteer fireman for 20 years, and worked alongside EMTs) called the litany. Scott's strong, clear voice foghorned something much like, "Sherwood, I hate to do this to you, but what asshole is currently infesting the White House?"

And I laughed. I don't know if the laughter got past my lips, but it's strange how humor--laughter--can rouse one. I muttered, "Yesterday was NO KINGS DAY."

Then it seemed they wanted to send me off to emergency services; there was talk, then a fourth trusted voice, belonging to Beth F, insisted that it was not a good idea to be sending me off without anyone knowing where. She informed the company that she was a Registered Nurse and this was SOP, or the like. Beth's on the team, I thought.

Shortly thereafter they got my wreck of a bod onto the conveyance and I was in for an ambulance ride. It was beautiful teamwork--cons these days have security teams, and here I was proof that their protocols were functioning swiftly and smoothly, which would permit them to pivot straight back to con stuff.

While I was in for a wad of tests. So many tests. I soon had two IVS going, one in each elbow.

Presently the doc came in and said that I had an acute case of influenza, compounded by severe dehydration. Beth F heroically came to spring me, and saw me to my room, promising me a backup call the following morning.

Another perceptual eddy: I thought, wrongly, I'd wafted quietly and softly to the floor. Maybe even discreetly. Ha Ha. When I stripped out of my influenza clothes I discovered gigantic bruises in weird places--the entire top of one foot is discolored, another baseball-sized bruise on one calf, and so one. I began to suspect that I had catapulted myself whammo-flat with all the grace of a stevedore hauling a sack of spuds.

The following days I slept and slept, forcing a few bites of salad and oatmeal. I have zero stamina, must work on that, but at least I am home, and I guess all that unwanted experience can sink into the subconscious quagmire.

Redwall

Redwall by Brian Jacques

The start of the series.

( Read more... )