Bookshelf

The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O.

I’ve read a number of Neal Stephenson novels, and I think I know his style pretty well. So looking at this collaboration, I have to guess it’s more Galland’s work than his. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just a bit more everyday than I’d expect from Stephenson. Less idea density, less eccentricity. It’s there, just not much of it.

That said, it’s a fun magic-scifi-time-travel adventure story that kept me very engaged. Probably not the most memorable or insightful thing on my reading list, but I had fun. It could be a bit shorter, and occasionally the epistilary style wears a bit thin, especially in the really beauracratic middle sections. But I’ll definitely read the sequel (not least because nothing is resolved!).

Practicing History

I was keen to read a book on the practice of historiography, and this book really failed to deliver. The first couple of essays are fine, but after that, most of the essays don’t really concern the practice of history. And, funnily enough, this book about history is quite dated, especially when it comes to Tuckman’s attitudes. She’s curmudgeonly, Eurocentric, and has some politcal stances that just make me cringe.

The Robots of Dawn

I knew that Asimov had taken nearly thirty years to publish this next entry in his landmark Robots series, so I was pretty curious as to how different it would feel. And in a lot of ways, it doesn’t feel that different at all. The universe is familiar, Elijah Baley and robot partner Daneel Olivaw are the same characters we grew to love, and the mystery is as impossible and surprising as usual.

Where it is different is that this an Asimov ready to talk about sex, and frankly, it feels weird. It’s too much like hearing your grandpa talk about such things, with all the awkwardness and dubious mores that entails. It doesn’t ruin the book by any means, but there are certainly long passages where you find yourself uncomfortably looking around in search of a change in subject.

Still, like all Asimov, the book is fun to read, and I’m still looking forward to continuing the series.

Brave New World

I hadn’t read Brave New World since high school, but it had always left an indelible mark in my psyche, so I was eager to see it with adult eyes and see if it lived up to my memory. And yep, still brilliant.

People usually refer to Brave New World as a dystopia, speaking about it in the same breath as 1984, but I’d argue that satire is a much more accurate description. Huxley himself said that he was lampooning American culture, and the citizens of the World State aren’t oppressed by a brutal regime, they’re happy. We just find it frightening because of what they give up in exchange for happiness. Still, I think Huxley would feel rather vindicated to see how much Americans (and the rest of the world) have leaned into that bargain in the last century.

But socio-politics and genre definitions aside, the writing is just sharp. The prose sings, the images stick. It’s a great read.

The Design of Books

A book about books—you’ve got my attention. A book about the design of books—now we’re talking!

Berne does a great job of explaining all aspects of book design, from the physical artifact and materials, to the principles of typography, to the process of working with a publisher and designer. And though this is targeted at authors and others in the publishing industry, she does a surprisingly great job of outlining the core skills of typography and composition. So much so that I think I’m going to recommend this to all my design students, even those without any particular interest in books.

Never Use Futura

I love the idea of a cultural history of a typeface, and this book does a good job of leading us through Futura’s origins and many uses throughout the last century. But it fails at giving this story any sense of meaning. It’s mostly just a list of brands and campaigns that have used the typeface. There’s always this looming sense that something greater is implied by those uses, but whatever it is never quite comes into focus.

It’s still a worthwhile read for type nerds like me, but temper your expectations.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Primary Phase

As familiar as I am with the novels and the mini-series, the original Hitchhiker’s Guide radio series is pretty new for me (though I think I listened to it once long ago). Apart from the joy of hearing one of my favorite stories brought to life by voice actors and sound effects, it’s also fascinating to observe the differences from the story’s final form in the novels. There are a few gags that were replaced by better ideas, a few that work great but were changed for reasons unknown, and even a few places where the original adds a bit of explanation to elements that felt disconnected in the books.

Hilarious, smart, and just pure joy. (But I hope you find a version with better audio fidelity than I had.)

Double Star

A lot of the best authors have pet themes that they return to again and again. Sometimes it gets repetitive, but never with Heinlein. He’s concerned with asking how people should be governed, and he’s endlessly inventive in how he explores the question. Double Star is a great example, with a silly plot device that leads to unexpected depth. It’s fun, it’s poignant, it makes a self-important protagonist really work.

My only quibble—and it’s a small one—is that the first few chapters are pulpy in a way that the rest of the book just isn’t. It sets you up for a very different kind of story.

Claudius the God

Picking up right where I, Claudius left off, the story of this accidental emperor finds its tragic conclusion. Far more than the first book, this one brings home its themes of inevitability and the blind selfishness of human nature. And because over the course of the two books you’ve learned to like Claudius so much, every betrayal he faces lands like a sting in your heart.

The Invincible

Lem has an incomparable imagination for the alien, for the unknowability and incompatibility of the infinite unknown. The Invincible takes us to a world where something inhuman, unthinking, something that isn’t even really alive lurks waiting. We follow a no-nonsense crew of space professionals who must struggle to fathom what is going on. And I love the careful, scientific way they approach the problem — none of the insufferable trope of them making obviously stupid choices for the sake of drama.

My only complaint is that the ending is rather unsatisfying. But in way, that is appropriate; how can you find a satisfying resolution with something so truly alien?

The Triumph of Christianity

This book does a good job of exploring the historical context in which the christian religion found its way to ascendency in the Roman Empire. It includes some astute observations, most notably that at the time the idea of a proselytizing, theologically exclusive faith had never before existed, and that alone can account for much of the way this new cognitive meme was able to spread so quickly. No one yet had any mental framework against which to pit such a thing.

That said, it never really lives up to the grandeur of the title. What I was really after was not an explanation just of the triumph of christianity over paganism in Rome; I wanted the whole story, with two thousand years and the vastness of the entire globe accounted for. I suppose that is asking a lot, but it seemed to be the promise the title was making.

The Naked Sun

Like every Asimov novel, The Naked Sun is imminently readable and somehow manages to explore ideas that are incredibly expansive at the same time.

I love the way Asimov explores the neuroses of entire cultures in this one, with Elijah Baley at once the mirror and the reflected. At once boisterous and terrified.

I think this may be the tightest writing of any Asimov novel I’ve read so far, and I think the semi-noir mystery setup really helps.

The Wayward Bus

The Wayward Bus doesn’t have a protagonist. Instead, it drifts between the perspectives of a cast of characters who range from the despicable to the merely sad. Small people with small lives playing out their small dramas. That’s the point, I think, to explore the limited minds of characters just living their lives. There’s a poetry in that, but this novel is not for me. I’m all too aware of the pettiness and paltriness of human nature without spending time inside the heads of these characters.

The Devil and The White City

There’s a lot of fascinating history in this book. Sadly, Larson has no idea how to structure it, how to edit it down, or how to make it satisfying in any way. It’s just an endless cavalcade of facts and events, centered around a pair of vaguely related topics. But his prose is indulgently self-satisfied, so that you’re sure he thinks he’s writing the greatest thing ever put down on paper.

Children of Time

I think I’ve said it before, but Adrian Tchaikovsky excels at depicting cultural disconnects and the fear we feel when we misunderstand the other. This book may be one of his greatest achievements in that vein. He makes a lot of weird choices, but they all really work at building to a climax of difference. Plus, the guy really likes sentient spiders.