Pratchett, Terry: (29) Night Watch (audio)

Some time ago I finished my re-listen of the Discworld books’ City Watch subseries with Night Watch, narrated by Stephen Briggs. When I first read this, I didn’t think the time-travel sections had a coherent plot. Audio helped me pay better attention to the narrative flow and understand the way the two versions of the past were in tension. Time-travel plots still make my head hurt, but at least now I comprehend the past events.

It strikes me that this and Thud! are the culmination of the books about Vimes, in the same way that Lord and Ladies and Carpe Jugulum are the culmination of the books about Granny Weatherwax. (I was going to say that Thud! was superfluous, but it contains Vimes as a father.) Unless something highly unexpected happens in Ankh-Morpork, I predict that Vimes will be a supporting character at most in subsequent Discworld books.

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Westlake, Donald E.: (14) What’s So Funny?

A quick catch-up post: What’s So Funny? is Donald E. Westlake’s most recent Dortmunder novel, which is not longer that recent because this post got stuck behind quite a lot of other things.

This isn’t a great Dortmunder book, but it isn’t a brain-eaten one, either. An ex-cop blackmails Dortmunder into “retrieving” a very fancy, very heavy chess set currently locked in a bank vault while various rich people fight over it. Though it’s not action-packed, it has a particularly excellent Dortmunder moment late in the book, good contributions from the two newest recurring characters, and a portrait of life in a big law firm whose accuracy I can’t vouch for but that I enjoyed in a schadenfreude kind of way. Add in Westlake’s usual sentence-level craft, and I’m a satisfied reader.

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Crusie, Jennifer: Bet Me

I liked Jennifer Crusie’s Bet Me better than Faking It, her last solo novel. Bet Me has no murders and so no tone mismatch. And in what is possibly a first for me, I was able to keep track of all eight characters introduced in the opening chapter.

This book is a fairy tale—it starts with “Once upon a time” and ends with “happily ever after”—and is about fairy tales, ripping them apart and then putting them back together properly. Some small parts of the plot only make sense when viewed as part of a fairy tale; I’m not sure if I buy them even with those genre conventions in mind. Also, the middle seems a bit slow. However, it was very good post-vacation piecemeal reading and would probably be a good place to start reading Crusie’s novels.

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Heyer, Georgette: Friday’s Child (radio play)

Either Georgette Heyer’s books don’t work well as radio plays, or Friday’s Child is not very good. Or, I suppose, both. But really, while I was listening to this marriage-of-convenience / lifelong-friend-with-hidden-love romance, all I could think was, “Good grief, they’re all idiots.” Maybe The Unknown Ajax would be similarly frustrating out loud, but I think I won’t risk an audio adaptation of Heyer’s books again.

Okay, actually, I had two other reactions. One was to twitch every time someone called the main female character “kitten”—talk about your diminutive nicknames. And the other was to wonder if I was supposed to think that they were having sex. Really, given their portrayals, either way the mind boggles.

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Mason, R.H.P. and J.G. Caiger: History of Japan, A, Revised Edition

I read part of A History of Japan, Revised Edition, by R.H.P. Mason and J.G. Caiger, quite some time ago when I was reading The Tale of Genji along with some friends. (I haven’t finished yet, unfortunately.) I read it in full while I was actually in Japan. Which was belated, yes, but at least I got to it eventually.

This is a compact book that is very good at outlining broad social trends and economic forces. Sometimes this makes it a little dry, but I think that’s the nature of the genre, and I was able to supplement it with cool stories in tourist brochures.

Written and updated by Australians, the book isn’t shy about talking about the effect of Western imperialism on modern Japan. However, it sketches the post-World War II period with only a very light and broad brush, which I found disappointing. I also felt that it could have paid more attention to women in Japanese society. For instance, women’s suffrage is described as a consequence of the Occupation, with no discussion of whether Japanese female suffragettes existed. And I believe the Ainu are mentioned perhaps twice. (We shipped this, along with some other non-fragile, non-urgent items, to ourselves to save luggage space, and haven’t received the box yet.)

With those caveats, however, I found this a useful way to get a quick grounding in Japanese history.

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Shinn, Sharon: (01) Mystic and Rider

I picked up Sharon Shinn’s Mystic and Rider after liking the same-universe short story “When Winter Comes” in the anthology The Queen in Winter. I read it on the plane back from Japan last weekend, the last of my vacation reading.

I was mildly disappointed to find that this is told in third person, rather than the engaging first person of the short story—or, rather, an equally-engaging first person, as the point-of-view character of “When Winter Comes” makes a passing appearance. I also found the first chapter unpromising, as it is told from the point of view of a not-very-interesting lowlife and doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, either. (I suspect it of being a prologue that the author renamed because readers generally don’t like prologues.)

The second chapter moves to the actual and more interesting focus of the book, a team of six people who are taking the pulse of the kingdom. Led by the two title characters, Senneth, a powerful mystic (magic user), and Tayse, one of the King’s Riders (elite warriors), they find problems and mysteries, but no definitive solutions. This is partly because this is the first book of at least four, and partly because the book is more concerned with establishing the characters and their relationships, which will be followed throughout the series. This includes a romance between Senneth and Tayse, which ends up feeling like the central plot—until the last obstacle to that romance, which seems to come out of nowhere just to fill out the last hundred pages or so. (I think it makes sense, but needed more establishing for Shinn’s audience.)

Though this sounds rather negative, on the whole the book was pretty decent airplane material. I do like the six central characters, and I’m interested in some of the mysteries, so I’ll keep reading when I’m in the mood for something pretty light. I wouldn’t say that anyone who liked “When Winter Comes” needs to rush out and read the novels, though.

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Lynch, Scott: (02) Red Seas Under Red Skies

Being on vacation is surprisingly tough on my reading plans. I didn’t have time to read Scott Lynch’s Red Seas Under Red Skies, which I’d really been looking forward to, until we’d been in Japan a week. I got a large chunk read on the Shinkansen (bullet train) from Kyoto to Shin-Yokohama; a bit more while doing laundry at a coin-op place; and the end early on an insomniac morning. These were not the best circumstances to be reading, but no matter the conditions, I think I would have been disappointed in Red Seas.

The book opens with—well, actually, it opens with a prologue that takes place a good long ways into the book, and which I find annoying. But it really opens with Locke Lamora and Jean Tannen in the middle of a complex plan to steal from a famous casino, two years after the end of Lies. Flashbacks show how they got there. These end about 200 pages in, or just after the plot takes a hard right turn into piracy, or more specifically, Locke and Jean having to become pirates.

My major disappointment is that the caper plot and the piracy plot aren’t integrated very well, or maybe not even at all. The caper plot ends up feeling almost unnecessary, certainly in relation to the amount of detail that’s given—not that the detail isn’t great inventive fun as would be expected in a sequel to Lies. My minor disappointment is that as soon as a major new character was introduced, I knew what that character’s arc would be. And while I fervently hoped that I was wrong and that annoying cliche would be averted, my hopes were not fulfilled.

I was pleased at some of the consequences from the last book, and am intrigued at some of the suggested consequences by this book. I’m not sure whether book two of seven is too early to start trying to spot long-term series goals, but I suspect ambitious things are in store. But this was piecemeal stuff, because I don’t feel that the book came together into a unified whole.

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Huff, Tanya: Sing the Four Quarters

I found Tanya Huff’s Four Quarters series in the local used bookstore and had a vague memory of reading and liking the first. On the strength of that, and thinking they were likely to make good plane reading, I picked up Sing the Four Quarters and two of its sequels. (The fourth book appeared to not be closely connected and I was trying to exercise some restraint in my purchases.)

Sing the Four Quarters got me from JFK to Detroit and into the air on the way to Osaka. As I had hoped, it was perfect plane reading. Annice was a princess who received her father’s deathbed permission to become a Bard and leave royal politics behind. Her brother, infuriated at being outmanuvered, cast her out of the family and forbade her to marry or have children without permission, for the stability of the realm. Ten years later, they’ve never reconciled—and now Annice is unintentionally pregnant. Even better, the father has just been framed for treason, and Annice is the only person who doesn’t believe he’s guilty.

It’s fairly unusual to have a pregnant woman be the protagonist in a novel. It’s more so to have her going off to rescue the father of her child who is not her true love. But here, the emotional drama is largely saved for family bonds and betrayals (though there’s some for Annice’s actual lover). But what could have been High Angst in other hands (Mercedes Lackey, I’m looking at you) is largely treated in a sensible manner: slightly cranky at times, but essentially good-humored. Many people aren’t as bad as they first appear (I especially liked the treatment of Annice’s brother the king), and a strikingly large number of conflicts are resolved by people exercising empathy—possibly one too many, but air travel may have been making me cranky. (That’s even more likely about my feeling that the made-up curses were too dense.) At any rate, this was great not-too-fluffy comfort food for the start of a long day of travel.

(The book is also matter-of-fact in its rejection of heteronormativity. For instance, Annice is bisexual, and same-sex marriages are apparently on the same footing as opposite-sex marriages. Polyamory’s present too, though its status is less clear.)

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Enoch, Suzanne: (03) Billionaires Prefer Blondes

Suzanne Enoch’s Billionaires Prefer Blondes is perfect vacation or, in my case, pre-vacation reading (I read it before heading to Japan, where I am now). This is the third book about Samantha Jellicoe, former cat thief (and adrenaline addict) and Rick Addison, billionaire. Like the first two, it mixes capers, romance, and a bit of mystery, for a light fast enjoyable read.

This book is an improvement over the second because its plot is a return to the personal. Samantha’s father, who taught her to be a thief, turns out not to be dead after all. More, he appears to be involved in a theft from Rick. The resulting plot tests Sam’s resolve to give up stealing, and the balance of independence and trust in Sam and Rick’s relationship.

These books are clearly designed as a long-range open-ended series, again reminding me of J.D. Robb’s In Death books. They aren’t quite as smooth at it, with some minor long-range threads feeling a bit awkwardly integrated. However, the ending bodes well for the continued excitement level of the series, and I look forward to the next one whenever I need either vacation reading or a break from pre-vacation running around.

P.S.: comments on old entries are again disabled, to help me catch any real comments that get labeled spam.

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Yoshino, Kenji: Covering: The Hidden Assault on Our Civil Rights

In Covering: The Hidden Assault on Our Civil Rights, Kenji Yoshino argues for a new way of looking at discrimination and civil rights. As the title indicates, this centers on the concept of covering, or downplaying a disfavored trait to blend in:

Famous examples of covering abound. Ramón Estévez covered his ethnicity when he changed his name to Martin Sheen, as did Krishna Bhanji when he changed his name to Ben Kingsley. Margaret Thatcher covered her status as a woman when she trained with a voice coach to lower the timbre of her voice. Long after they came out as lesbians, Rosie O’Donnell and Mary Cheney still covered, keeping their same-sex partners out of the public eye. Issur Danielovitch Demsky covered his Judaism when he became Kirk Douglas, as did Joseph Levitch when he became Jerry Lewis. Franklin Delano Roosevelt covered his disability by ensuring his wheelchair was always hidden behind a desk before his Cabinet entered.

The central argument of the book is that covering is an assault on civil rights because it is an assault on autonomy. If one has a right to be something, one has the right to do the things that one feels are part of that identity. Otherwise, “the demand to cover . . . is the symbolic heartland of inequality—what reassures one group of its superiority to another.” In other words, though assimiliation can be necessary for peaceful co-existence, its dark side also should be recognized.

The book is a blend of memoir, history, and legal analysis. It begins with a chapter of memoir, charting the author’s “struggle to arrive at a gay identity.” Yoshino did undergraduate and graduate work in literature before switching law when he accepted his sexuality—because, he writes, “A gay poet is vulnerable in profession as well as person”—and all of the autobiographical portions of the book are elegant and precise. And in the later chapters Yoshino moves between memoir and history or legal analysis with a remarkable fluidity, never jarring me in the transition.

After the context-setting opening chapter, the book divides into three parts. The first is an examination of gay history, which is itself divided into three parts: conversion, or attempts to change sexual orientation; passing, or attempts to hide sexual orientation; and covering, or attempts not to flaunt sexual orientation. Each section emphasizes how it is still a current problem. Conversion lives in the idea that homosexuality is “contagious” and therefore children need to be protected from the promotion of homosexuality in schools, and passing in the U.S. military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. And both can co-exist with covering, such as in custody cases:

[When denying] custody to a lesbian mother in 1990, a Louisiana appellate court cited “open, indiscreet displays of affection beyond mere friendship . . . where the child is of an age where gender identity is being formed.” If acceptable sexuality for same-sex couples is limited to the appearance of friendship, then the expectations for parents are clearly not orientation-neutral.

Notice as well why such covering is required—parental flaunting is dangerous because it could convert a child whose “gender identity is being formed.” All three demands for assimilation are simultaneously in play—because children must not be converted, parents must pass to their children and cover to the courts. The shifts from conversion to passing to covering . . . are shifts in emphasis.

The book then considers covering as applied to race and sex, drawing its examples mostly from the employment context. One of the new wrinkles it examines is reverse covering, particularly with regard to women. For most non-dominant groups, the pressure to reverse cover comes from other group members. Women, however, are pressured to cover and reverse cover at the same time and by the same outside group (men), that is, “to be ‘masculine’ enough to be respected as workers, but also ‘feminine’ enough to be respected as women.”

(Though the book focuses on groups currently protected by civil rights law, because it’s written by a law professor, the book takes care to note that everyone covers in ways small and large: “the mainstream is a myth. . . . All of us struggle for self-expression; we all have covered selves.”)

Finally, in the shortest section, the book looks at models of civil rights law. It considers two areas in which the idea of accommodation is supposed to be recognized, religion and disability, and examines the pressures towards assimilation within those areas of law. It then argues for a new model of civil rights:

  • The law right now tends to prohibit only discrimination based on immutable traits. This is misguided: the question should not be whether a person can change, but whether the person should be made to change.
  • One way the law can do this is by focusing on common liberties/fundamental rights, rather than on whether group X needs additional protection. This is partly because courts are more likely to be comfortable with such a formulation, and partly because the group X formulation brings up the question of what’s essential to being part of group X, which is dangerously near stereotyping.
  • The law is limited in effectiveness and appropriateness when it comes to covering:

    When I hesitate before engaging in a public display of same-sex affection, I am not thinking of the state or my employer, but of the strangers around me and my own internal censor. And while I am often tempted to sue myself, this is not my healthiest impulse.

    Instead, civil rights law should be part of broader attempts to view ourselves and others with compassion and understanding.

On the whole, I think this is a well-written, useful, and accessible book. It’s true that unless carefully deployed, the idea of covering could reinforce stereotypes. As a colleague of Yoshino’s puts it, “One way minorities break stereotypes is by acting against them. If every time they do so, people assume they are ‘covering’ some essential stereotypical identity, the stereotypes will never go away.” For this reason, the book attempts to emphasize individual autonomy and authenticity, rejecting demands to reverse cover as well as cover; I think this bears repeating, because it strikes me as the kind of point likely to get lost in general discussions. Also, because describing solutions is harder than describing problems, the final section feels a bit slight (and also strikes me as having somewhat more jargon than the prior sections). However, by targeting a general audience, the book necessarily limits the amount of legal implementation details it can offer.

The idea that everyone covers immediately resonated with me, and I have begun thinking about my own covering and whether all of it is necessary or useful. I hope that when others recognize the concept, they will do the same, and in the process gain awareness of and empathy for those who are pressured to cover without good reason.

(The book’s preface, which functions as a short summary, can be read online, as can the scholarly law article which originated the concept (choose “View as PDF” from this Yale Law Journal page).)

(ETA: see also a long New York Times article by Yoshino, The Pressure to Cover, which functions as a long (5,000 words) summary. Thanks to [info]ckd for the link.)

[Cross-posted to my LiveJournal in honor of International Blog Against Racism Week.]

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