Men at Arms

Title: Men at Arms
Author: Terry Pratchett
Published: 1993
Genre: Humour Fantasy
Pages: 381


I'm slowly working my way through the Discworld books, mostly in order (if not publication order, then in storyline publication order: Death books, Witches, City Watch etc...), because why not? Men at Arms is already the 15th book(!) and the second City Watch -book. This might be the first time I've read it, since I don't own it myself, and didn't much care for the storyline when I was younger. The witches and Rincewind and Death were more fun!

Men at Arms follows Guards! Guards!, and stars the few men of the Ankh-Morpork Night Watch. They are not so few anymore: the city higher powers have decided that Diversity is a good thing!, so the Watch is joined by a troll, a dwarf, and -gasp!- a woman. Captain Vimes is just a few days away from retirement and marrying the rich swamp dragon enthusiast Sybil Rankin. The new recruits are trouble enough -trolls and dwarfs do NOT get along- and then people start dying in strange ways, with small metal pellets in them.

So, to wrap up, a humour fantasy book with murder mysteries, racial issues, policing and commentary on gun control and the power a weapon like that has on an individual. Not bad for a fantasy book. A really funny fantasy book, too. Oh, and Death is trying to be more of a ... people person.


   Bjorn didn't waste time asking questions. A lot of things become a shade urgent when you're dead. 
   'I believe in reincarnation,' he said.
   I KNOW.
   'I tried to live a good life. Does that help?'
   THAT IS NOT UP TO ME. Death coughed. OF COURSE... SINCE YOU BELIEVE IN REINCARNATION... YOU'LL BE BJORN AGAIN.
   He waited.
   'Yes. That's right,' said Bjorn. Dwarfs are known for their sense of humour, in a way. People point them out and say: 'Those little devils haven't got a sense of humour.'

The Paying Guests

Title: The Paying Guests
Author: Sarah Waters
Published: 2014
Genre: Drama and romance
Pages: 564 (on the Kindle)


It's 1922, the War is over, and life has forever changed for so many people. Frances Wray has lost both of her brothers and father during the war, and lives with her mother in their old house. Maintaining it is getting harder and harder, so they are forced to rent out a few of their rooms. The book begins when a young couple, Lilian and Leonard Barber move in. Frances's mother is still used to the old way of life and doesn't want to socialise too much with the 'paying guests', who are, after all, from a different class. Frances herself, stuck in a life she didn't want, gets to know the Barbers better and quickly befriends Lilian. And since this is Sarah Waters, they do become more than friends. And since this is Sarah Waters, that's not all of it.

This was supposed to have been an xmas/bday-present, but mom couldn't find it anywhere, and I just now bought it for the Kindle when the price came down a little. I've been reading a lot of shorter books lately, and it was wonderful to sink into a good, long book during my first few holiday days, just to lie around and read. A holiday trip without having to get off the sofa, yay!


   'Yes, I'll sign it "To Frances, with--"' He caught himelf up. 'Whoops! Miss Wray, I suppose I should say. But that sounds so awfully old-fashioned. You don't mind me calling you Frances, do you? Now that we're all getting along so well?'
   His tone was so affable that it would have been impossible to protest or demur, but Frances felt taken by surprise - almost tripped up. She had no interest in calling him Leonard, she wouldn't have dreamt of calling him Len, and she had the sneaking suspicion that his slip of the tongue was less accidental than he was pretending. Worst of all, the moment somehow undid some of the specialness of her friendship with Lilian. Was this, she thought, whaf happened when one made friends with a married woman? One automatically got the husband too? - like a crochet pattern, coming free with a magazine?  

 

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

Title: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
Author: Philip K. Dick
Published: Originally in 1968
Genre: Science Fiction
Pages: 210


Summer holiday. What a wonderful reason to avoid the computer. But it's almost time to go back to work, and to return books to the library.

As y'all probably know, this is Philip K. Dick's classic science fiction novel, and it inspired Ridley Scott's film Blade Runner. (Apparently, 'Have you seen Blade Runner?' is a silly question. Because everyone has.) It has been yeeears since I saw the film, but I'm pretty sure that Harrison Ford wasn't much obsessed with his electric sheep, and getting a real animal. But, like, 20 years. I can barely remember yesterday.

The world has been damaged by the latest world war, and a lot of humanity has already migrated off the planet. A few still stay, as almost the only living things. Animals are endangered or extinct, and owning one is a huge status symbol, and a proof of one's humanity. Rick Deckard, our protagonist, only has an electric sheep. Rick is a bounty hunter, and is calculating that after he retires (=destroys) a group of 6 escaped androids, he should be able to buy a real animal. But the androids in question are very human-like, and not so easy to kill. Alongside the main plot, the book brings out a lot of questions on what a human is, and how the androids are different.

If it was explained in the book I missed (or forgot) it, but I'm unsure as to why the bounty hunters kill retire the androids that have escaped servitude in human colonies in favour to living on Earth. If they want to move to a barren, dying place where people are getting sick with radiation, why not let them?


   After a hurried breakfast - he had lost time due to the discussion with his wife - he ascended clad for venturing out, including his Ajax model Mountibank Lead Codpiece, to the covered roof pasture whereon his electric sheep 'grazed.' Whereon it, sophisticated piece of hardware that it was, chomped away in simulated contentment, bamboozling the other tenants of the building. 
   Of course, some of their animals undoubtedly consisted of electronic circuitry fakes, too; he had of course never nosed into the matter, any more than they, his neighbors, had pried into the real workings of his sheep. Nothing could be more impolite. To say, 'Is your sheep genuine?' would be a worse breach of manners than to inquire whether a citizen's teeth, hair, or internal organs would test out authentic. 

The Passion of New Eve

Title: The Passion of New Eve
Author: Angela Carter
Published: Originally in 1977
Genre: Magic realism
Pages: 191


I don't remember what it was that first got me interested in this book, enough to buy a used copy, but damn, it has been a good long while since the last book that made me stop reading and say What the fuck? this often. (Was that sentence complicated enough?) 

Young Evelyn moves from his home in England to New York, to take up a position as an English professor. As soon as he reaches the big city, the reader and Evelyn both learn that the USA is in the grips of a war between... pretty much everyone. He has no job left, and barely dares to leave his small flat for food in the fear of being killed on the way to the corner shop. On one such brave excursion, he meets a young erotic dancer, Leilah, and abandons what's left of his little life to follow her. When things turn sour, he escapes the city for the desert, and that's when things go really weird.

I didn't know what I was getting into as I started the book, and ended up with heaps of everything. Dystopia, humour, dark satire, post-feminism, crazy cults, gender stuff... the book indeed made me go WTF plenty of times, and almost as many times I thought about not finishing it, but heck, I'm glad I did. What a wild ride.


   And she regarded me benignly but with implicit ferocity; I stammered a little but no words came for she was of Leilah's colour and I was full of shame. She shrugged her immense shoulders.
   "Well... one day, you'll discover that sexuality is a unity manifested in different structures and it's a hard thing, in these alienated times, to tell what is what and what is not. Ah, Evelyn, I've no quarrel with you just because you're a man! I think your pretty little virility is just darling, harmless as a dove, such a delight! A lovely toy for a young girl... but are you sure you get the best use of it in the shape you are?" 
   What could she mean? Her face, dark as an eclipse of the moon, is lowered over me with giantesque solitude; her hot, close breath basts me, I whimper. 

Moon over Soho, take 2

Title: Moon over Soho
Author: Ben Aaronovitch
Published: 2011 by Gollancz
Genre: Urban fantasy
Pages: 373


Agaaaaaain! Aww, and now it's over. Where Rivers of London is an introduction to the series, main characters and the magical world, Moon over Soho is where the Big Bad is introduced. I really should have re-read these two before diving into 3, 4 and 5, I'd forgotten so many details! But well, everything should be clear as day when the 6th book comes out!

Musicians don't always lead the healthiest of lives, that's a fact pretty much everyone knows, right? But when jazz musicians start to keel over after gigs, with traces of music still to be heard, Peter and co realise that there's more going on than sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll jazz. There also seems to be a lot more magic in the air than there ought to be, considering Nightingale's title of Last Wizard in England.

I honestly do love these books, and not just because of London and them being of my favourite genre. They're good fun, and Moon over Soho is probably my favourite of the series. So far, anyway.


   'This man has been trained by a master,' said Nightingale. 'Have you any idea how many years it takes to practise at that level? The dedication and self-discipline he would have needed? You've just met one of the most dangerous men in the world.' He clapped me on the shoulder. 'And you're still alive. Now that's impressive.'
   For a terrifying moment I thought he was going to hug me, but fortunately we both remembered we were English just in time. Still, it was a close call. 

Olemisen sietämätön keveys

Nimi: Olemisen sietämätön keveys
Alkuperäinen nimi: Nesnesitelná lehkost bytí
Kirjoittaja: Milan Kundera
Julkaistu: 1984 ranskaksi, 1985 tshekiksi, tämä painos suomeksi 2010
Genre: Filosofinen fiktio, sanoo netti
Sivuluku: 390


Luulin että olisin lisännyt tämän Listalleni luettavista kirjoista, mutta en näköjään. Tarkoitus oli, varsinkin kun tajusin että Olemisen sietämätön keveys sijoittuu pitkälti yhteen lempikaupungeistani, Prahaan. Tarina alkaa Prahan kevään aikoihin, eli siis 1968, vaikka pääsemmekin sivumäärän kasvaessa tutustumaan hyvin kaikkien päähenkilöiden menneisyyteen ja korvien väliin. Vaikea poliittinen tilanne ajaa monia ihmisiä pois maasta, eikä elo ole enää samanlaista kotiin jääneille tai sinne palaaville. 

Päähenkilöitä ovat kirurgi Tomáš; hänen nuori vaimonsa, valokuvaaja Tereza; taidemaalari Sabina, joka on yksi Tomášin rakastajattarista sekä hänen ystävänsä; ja Franz, Sabinaan rakastunut sveitsiläinen professori. Tomášilla on useita rakastajattaria joita hän tapailee vaimosta huolimatta.Tereza ei ole asiasta ymmärrettävästi kovin innostunut, mutta on uskollinen rakastamalleen miehelle.

Kirja alkaa kevyesti Nietzchellä ja ajatuksia herättäviä filosofisia pointteja riittää, mutta Olemisen sietämätön keveys ei silti aiheuta päänsärkyä tai (kovin paljon) maailmantuskaa. Se on syvällinen rakkaustarina, kaunis kirja vahvoilla päähenkilöillä. Semmoista sorttia joka jää päähän pyörimään...


   Hän vihoitteli itselleen kunnes hänen mieleensä tuli, että oli oikeastaan täysin luonnollista ettei hän tiennyt, mitä halusi:
   Ihminen ei voi koskaan tietää, mitä hänen tulee haluta, sillä eläessään vain yhden elämän hän ei voi verrata sitä edellisiin tai korjailla sitä seuraavissa.
   Onko parempi elää Terezan kanssa vai jäädä yksin?
   Ei ole mitään mahdollisuutta tarkistaa, kumpi ratkaisu on parempi, sillä ei ole myöskään vertauskohdetta. Ihminen elää kaiken heti ensi kerralla ja valmistautumatta. Ikään kuin näyttelijä joka esiintyy harjoittelematta osaansa. Mutta minkä arvoista elämä voi olla, jos sen ensi harjoitus on elämä itse? Siksi se muistuttaa aina luonnosta. Ilmaus ei kuitenkaan ole täsmällinen, sillä luonnos on aina jonkin hahmotelma, maalauksen esiaste, mutta meidän elämämme luonnos ei ole minkään hahmotelma, siitä ei synny minkäänlaista maalausta.
   Einmal ist keinmal, Tomás toisteli mielessään saksalaista sananlaskua. Jos ihminen saa elää vain yhden elämän, hän ei tavallaan elä lainkaan. 

Rivers of London, take 2

Title: Rivers of London
Author: Ben Aaronovitch
Published: 2011 by Gollanz
Genre: Urban fantasy
Pages: 390



Yeaaaah... again! I'd wanted to re-read books 1 and 2 even before I picked up 3 (and promptly 4 and 5) a month ago, but, better late than never. Turns out, Rivers of London (and Moon over Soho, being 100+ pages into that one already) is just as good on the second time around as on the first. Not in the least because I now have a firmer grasp on who's who. So many names!


The most important name to remember is Peter Grant, our main character and wise-cracking narrator. A probational constable almost done cooking, he's whisked away from the prospect of a dull desk-job as he happens to chat with a ghost one early January morning. The ghost is the sole witness to a strange murder, but who's going to take the word of a ghost seriously? Perhaps the last wizard in England, Inspector Nightingale, who snatches Peter up to become his apprentice.

Rivers of London is full of action, humour and characters that I've come to care for. What else could you ask of a good book? Well, sequels. Plllenty of sequels.


   The white boy with dreads leaned towards me and with great deliberation poked me in the face with his index finger. 'Poke,' he said, and giggled. Then he did it again.
   There's a point where a human being will lose it, just lash out at everything around them. Some people spend their lives on the edge of that - most of them end up doing time in prison. Some, a lot of them women, get ground down to that point over years, until one day it's hello, burning bed and a legal defence of extreme provocation. 
   I was at that point, and I could feel the righteous anger. How wonderful it would be just to fuck the consequences and let rip. Because sometimes you just want the fucking universe to take some notice - is that too fucking much to ask for? 
   Then I realised that was what it was all about.


So, uhh, looks like I've read more books in 2015 than I did in 2014! And it's only the beginning of July! In fact, I've read more books already this year than any year of blog-keeping. Yay! Here's to almost 50 more cracking open a new one's for 2015!