Scout is dragging jars of paint into the living room.
Me: What are you doing?
Scout: Science.
Scout is dragging jars of paint into the living room.
Me: What are you doing?
Scout: Science.
In protest of bedtime last night, Scout ran around the house, hid behind curtains, doors and in the garage, and eventually scrambled under the bed in her brother’s room, clinging to the support beams.
This was after Stacey had already spent 45 minutes trying to get her to sleep with books and whatnot.
I had to pull her out by the ankles, causing some light rug burns, which became the topic of a 30 minute screaming lecture.
So, probably not getting a “World’s Best Dad” coffee mug for Xmas again this year.
Forbidden Gospels and Epistles by Archbishop Wake
I pulled this off of gutenberg.org, because I’ve read some about these rejected bits of potential New Testament, but I haven’t read any of it.
I skimmed this, and I have to say: hilarious. In small doses.
I had wondered how the stuff that got in the New Testament was chosen, and apparently, according to the Council of Nice, they put all the potential writings under a table in a church, and asked the Lord to put the good ones on the table, and it happened. This is mentioned in the introduction by Edward Hancock, who I guess edited and re-released this early collection. I’m not clear where this story comes from (he has a citation, but darned if I’m going to follow it).
At any rate, there’s a lot of gospel about Jesus’ early life, and frankly, it reads like Christopher Moore’s Lamb.
Several times, kids or adults make fun of young Jesus, and he smites them dead. At one point after this, Joseph takes him by the ear and drags him away from the scene of his latest smiting.
Seriously. Christopher Moore style stuff. He must have read these, and went… Comedy Gold.
The Force is Middlling in this One (and Other Ruminations from the Outskirts of the Empire) by Robert A. Kroese
I gave up on this one.
I’d read his Mercury series (two books and an interstitial short story), which was… okay. Here’s a bit from an article on self-publishing in The Independant:
Robert Kroese, author of Self-Publish Your Novel: Lessons from an Indie Publishing Success Story, decided to publish his own work because he thought traditional publishing was “like trying to get into an exclusive club”. You’re not, he said, “even sure what’s in the club, and there are some people who are coming out of it and saying ‘well, that wasn’t worth it’.” His first novel, Mercury Falls, sold about 5,000 copies, in print and e-book, in six months. Then it caught the attention of the publishing arm of Amazon, who re-released it, and it sold 50,000 more.
The problem is that Kroese is trying very, very hard to be like Douglas Adams. He is trying very hard to be funny. And while he might, in fact, be a funny person, he is simply trying too hard. The catch with self-publishing is, I’m not sure there’s anyone around to tell him so. Maybe there is. Maybe they’re just not very good at it. Or maybe they’re afraid they won’t get his cash if they do so, because he’ll go to another self-publishing house.
He comes across as that person at the party who says something absurd, and then says, “Don’t mind me, I’m a little bit craaazy!” and you nod and smile and say, “yeeaaah.”
I can’t read a whole book full of that. I don’t even go to parties very much anymore. Maybe I’m out of practice.
Redshirts: a Novel with Three Codas by John Scalzi
It’s an interesting premise. And it’s well executed. As far as it goes.
A novel from the point of view of the “Redshirts”, named after those characters on Star Trek with the red uniforms (depicting grunt crew), who were effectively there to “show how the monster works”, as my old boss once put it. Disposable characters.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, Star Trek style.
But you get two thirds through the book, and it ends. But it doesn’t. Because there are two more “codas”. Which is another way of saying “filler”. The concept just didn’t stretch out to a full length story.
But, what was there was fine. Worth a borrow, if not an outright purchase.
Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery
I don’t care what the protagonist in Diary of a Wimpy Kid says, this is a good book.
It’s funny, with a good female lead, well written. Also, she’s more or less a fictional depiction of living with my daughter. If she was living in 1908, anyway. So she’ll enjoy it some day.
I can’t get my son to try Pippi Longstocking, so I doubt I’d get him to do this one.
Especially because of the Diary of a Wimpy Kid reference. Stupid wimpy kid.
Some Remarks: Essays and Other Writing by Neal Stephenson
Meh.
Did you see that? Me? A huge Neal Stephenson fan? Meh?
“Certain persons who know what they are talking about where publishing is concerned have assured me that I have reached the stage in my life and career where it is not only possible, but advisable, to release a compilation of what are drolly referred to as my ‘shorter’ works.” – from the introduction.
So, even Neal seems reluctant at the start.
This is not to say he isn’t a fine essay writer. There are a few in there I quite enjoyed.
But I jumped on it, right at publication, because I’m a fanboy. And I paid a lot for the book. Really, I should have waited until the price came down. I knew in my heart of hearts this wasn’t going to be another Baroque Cycle.
At least there’s some good stuff about the era of the Baroque Cycle, some commentary on Newton and that crew. An interesting essay on cults. Some other stuff.
I look forward to his next fiction.