84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff

 

Part memoir, part ode to the written word, 84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff is a charming book of 1950s letters from Hanff, a screenwriter in New York, to Frank Doel of Marks & Co, an antiquarian bookshop in London. Hanff finds an advertisement for them in the Saturday Review of Literature, and as she wants books that are either out of print or that she can't find in New York in affordable, satisfactory editions, she makes Marks & Co. her personal book source. The trans-Atlantic correspondence between Hanff & Doel (and others associated with Marks & Co.) evolves from business to the personal as they become friends. You not only get to explore their deepening relationships but you also get book recommendations, a window into the English antiquarian book trade, and a glimpse of an early 1950s Britain still recovering from WWII.

 

I have a weakness for both epistolary stories and books on books, so this one brings delight both ways. We don’t get all the letters, only the ones (I'm guessing) that go beyond business and offer some insight into the characters, their settings and relationships. Helene Hanff is a lively writer with a wonderful sense of humor, who's not afraid to express herself, and the sense of distance provided by the nature of writing to somebody means she's far less restrained than she (or most anyone) would be in person, which only makes it funnier. The tonal contrast between her letters and Frank's, who comes across mostly as a proper Englishman, may be due to differences in American and British culture or the fact that he is representing a business, but you can tell it's not due to a lack of affection.

 

I recommend this book as a heart-warming, quick read (my Penguin edition is 97 partially-filled pages) that pulls you into a world of books and unexpected yet fulfilling relationships. Every time I read it I come away with a smile on my face and a renewed appreciation of the importance of embracing the small joys that leaven the lumps of everyday life.

To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis

 To Say Nothing of the Dog is a wonderfully irreverent time travel science fiction novel replete with absurdist humor and appealing characters. A stand-alone entry in Wills’ Oxford Time Travel series, this story takes the reader to Victorian England by way of World War II, looking for the bishop’s bird stump to complete the restoration of Coventry Cathedral. This is more difficult than one might think, given the iron whims of Lady Schrapnell, who co-opts the entire time travel department to complete her pet project. Unfortunately, time itself is threatened when something unauthorized is brought forward in time, and it’s up to our heroes , Ned Henry and Verity Kindle, to overcome advanced time-lag and put everything right.

 The author, Connie Willis, has been named a Grand Master by the Science Fiction Writers of America and this novel lives up to her reputation. She was inspired by Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome, a Victorian comic novel detailing the small adventures of three gentlemen boating to while away the summer. She translated the river into a Victorian country summer idyll filled with all the small pleasures of lawn parties, croquet, and church fetes, while reveling in the folly and fecklessness of the upper class. She then adds depth and plot by peopling it with professional time-travelers from the future who are forced to reconcile living a life of leisure with preventing a potentially serious catastrophe, while facing personal difficulties of their own. Throughout Willis maintains a light touch, riddled with humor and charm.

 I really enjoyed this read. I appreciate Willis deft touch with combining the serious and the absurd, and the story is laugh-out-loud funny. Her plotting is clever and her timing is right on. Her characters, including their faults, are relatable and lovable, and just a bit hapless, subject to the whims of the story. This is not a serious, in-depth time travel novel; if you’re looking for that try Willis’ Domesday Book. This is a book that uses time travel as almost a McGuffin frame for a confection of a farce.

Asimov's Robots - Delightfully Charming

 Isaac Asimov’s robot stories are a joy. I usually don’t have much patience with Asimov. While his ideas are great, I tend to be primarily a character-driven reader and a plot-driven reader second, and in my experience, Asimov’s not great at either. And don’t get me started on his women characters and stance on feminism. But his robot stories, especially those in I, Robot, are delightfully charming. His character writing skills are at just about the right level for robot personalities (and his robots do have personalities), and as for Susan Calvin, surely one of the most robotic human characters in fiction, her personality is just right for who she is and what she does. Unlike with many other “unfeminine” woman characters (in literature in general of the time, not just in Asimov’s writings), I don’t feel that Susan Calvin’s personality is written to account for her scientific career or lack of partner, or to punish her for something, or anything else. It’s such an asset for her, her company, and society in general that it just comes off as who she is, and that’s OK. Asimov obviously has a great affection for his robots, and I wonder how much Susan Calvin’s robot-likeness slips her in under that umbrella. She’s certainly one of his best-written women, in the admittedly small sample size of his writings I’ve read.

Becky Chambers' "A Psalm for the Wild-Built" - Tea Monk!

 A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers is both filled with fascinating ideas and totally charming, an unusual combination in my experience. It’s certainly one of the most positive post-apocalyptic stories I’ve read (unsurprising for Chambers), and her take on robots, and robot-human relations is mind-boggling. I’m totally charmed by the idea of a tea monk, and I love the way her society works. So egalitarian and rural-feeling, but selectively pretty high-tech. Becky Chambers is a master at telling stories that focus on character interaction and individual responsibility that also resonate with implications and consequences on a much larger scale. Full-on space opera told on the level of the domestic. This novella is no different; though the large-scale geography is limited to a single continent, the temporal and societal expanses are vast. She has a definite talent for writing all four main SF bases – big ideas, world-building, characters, and action. Well worth reading and highly recommended. Can’t wait to read the sequel.

David Weber's Honor Harrington Series - Exposition Much?

I’ve picked up David Weber’s Honor Harrington Series again, after many years. This is a series (and an author) that I followed avidly for years and have reread again and again; one of my comfort reads, in fact. Paradoxically, I’ve also consistently skipped parts of his books again and again, to the point of never having read most of Short, Victorious War. I read him for his characters (which, even if many of them are not particularly well-rounded, are appealing), the action (which is well-written and exciting), and the good vs. evil (which is comforting, especially as the world around me seems to develop more shades of gray). What I don’t read him for is his plentiful exposition, which would be the parts I have habitually skipped. He has a lot to say about politics, military technology, and character motivations, much of which I find uninteresting, excessive, and/or redundant (this last would apply to the character motivations). The good news is that the action and character interactions still work even if you skip ahead, brother.

 This time around I’m actually reading much more of the exposition. I still don’t have a lot of interest in the military hardware aspects, but the politics are more interesting, if a little slow going. I’m not sure how much of my new-found patience has to do with my being more politically aware these days versus the politics in the later books of the series being much more integrated into a story containing less action. I’m still not committed to reading every page, but I’m getting a depth to the stories that I didn’t before.

 The sheer tonnage of exposition in Weber’s books is also interesting because that’s typically seen as a no-no in fiction writing. Yet he was (is?) a very popular military SF author, so it apparently works for him. Is it that he’s managed to pick topics such that his lengthy ruminations become part of the attraction? Or is it that you can actually skip them and still enjoy the books, a la Victor Hugo. (Not that Weber’s writing skills are nearly to that level.) Regardless of my altered reading habits this time around, I think I’m still in the latter camp.

The Eye of the Reader

I'm fascinated by the different ways people read science fiction. I'm working on Susan Matthews for Novelist, and am checking out "Colony Fleet." The Amazon reviews are all over the place.

One reviewer compares it to Matthew's Judiciary series, and gives it 3 stars because it seems simplistic in comparison, but still worth reading.

Another reviewer, who worked for the aerospace industry for 20 years, gives 5 stars because it nails the differences in approach between the engineering and technical sectors, and it effectively warns against tech arrogance. Also it's well written and optimistic.

A third gives it 5 stars because it's stronger and more complex than the Judiciary series.

The world would be so boring if we all thought the same way!

Matthew's Judiciary series sounds absolutely fascinating, btw. I own most of them, picked up used from Uncle Hugo's I believe, but have never read them. I'm a little scared by the investigations around torture which is one of the reason d'etres of the series, but it goes in depth into ethical questions, the psyches of the characters, and the consequences of a corrupt theocracy. As I said, fascinating.

If you want to check it out before committing to the books, her website is active and includes a bunch of free material. She's working on the 7th novel in the series. I also found a series of blog posts that Tor.com did on her writing in late 2012, concluding with a short interview.

The Progress of Fiction as Art

"In an anonymous essay titled 'The Progress of Fiction as an Art', which appeared in the Westminster Review in 1853, the author...argued that art, like technology, progresses from more primitive to more sophisticated forms, and 'a scientific and somewhat sceptical age has no longer the power of believing in the marvels which delighted our ruder ancestors." (Cambridge Companion to Fantasy Literature edited by Edward James and Farah Mendlesohn)

So, according to this, previous to the 18th century fiction with fantastical elements was realistic because people believed in the fantastic. Later it didn't work anymore because only 'rubes' and 'primitives' believed in the fantastic. This viewpoint still holds much credence today in Anglo-American literary fiction - the modernists.

I find this insistence that fiction reflect our view of reality very interesting.  Why is that so important?  Can't fantasy literature - literature that doesn't reflect our view of reality - still convey other kinds of truth - emotional, moral, human?  And what the heck's wrong with a little escapism anyway?