Category Archives: Other Writers

The Glorious Thing That is Steampunk

Does it deserve to be capitalized? I think so.

Clockwork Heart by Dru PagliassottiAll of my reading these past few weeks (when it’s not the New Yorker…) has been consumed with Steampunk. I adore it. Really. It’s amazing.

I started with the basics. Steampunk edited by Amy and Jeff Vandermeer and Steampunk Prime edited by Mike Ashley. The Vandermeers also have a second volume called (cleverly enough) Steampunk II: Steampunk Reloaded, but I haven’t started reading it yet. The two Vandermeer volumes are more contemporary–they start with stories written in the 70’s and 80’s. Steampunk Prime is a collection of older stories written between 1895 and 1920.

So far I like the older stuff in Steampunk Prime better. It feels genuine (if such a thing can be said about Steampunk). In the first Vandermeer volume the writing seems more contrived…and generally not as good. I’m hoping the Steampunk II volume is better–it has a Clockwork Century story by Cherie Priest in it and I love her.

As far as actual novels go, one of my favorites is The Iron Duke by Meljean Brook. Brilliant. I would definitely recommend it. And steamy and sexy,too–that Iron Duke is a hotty. Her whole concept is fantastic. I totally got caught up in it. Another good one is Clockwork Heart by Dru Pagliassotti. Less of the romance novel feel to it that Brook’s book has, but still a very sweet love story and awesome ideas.

I’ve read more for young adults. The His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman is Steampunk and is amazing, of course. A less famous series is The Bartimeaus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud (which may actually have four books in its trilogy–or I guess they’re calling The Ring of Solomon a prequel).

Maybe not technically Steampunk… Maybe Magicpunk… No. No, I’m making the call.  I’m definitely saying it’s Steampunk.

Whatever. It’s phenomenal. Clever, funny, interesting…downright brilliant… The final ending is a little rough and I was a little hostile towards Stroud for a while, but after thinking about it, he definitely did the right thing. Bartimeaus is the snarkiest djinn you’ll ever meet. He thinks in footnotes. ‘Nuff said.

Cherie Priest is also one of my new favorites. She’s the author of Boneshaker and Dreadnought. She also has a super fun website and blog. Loads of personality and the funny stuff. And she’s a fantastic writer. Just got Dreadnought and I’m saving it for that perfect rainy day when I can snuggle up by the fire and disappear for a while. Just read them. You won’t be sorry.

Another good one is Scott Westerfeld’s Leviathan and Behemoth. (Yep. Same guy who wrote the Uglies Trilogy.) More the rollicking adventure story type that takes place in an alternate version of World War I. If I had to be honest, I would say Priest’s books are more for the girls and Westerfeld’s more for the boys. Not a lot of emotional retrospect and time for thought for Westerfeld’s crew. You had better climb up into your war machine Clanker and get a move on if you want to keep up.

Priest’s books are adventure and action, too, and the story definitely moves along, but you feel like you know the characters a bit better. And she writes all of her characters well–cranky airship pilots, worried mothers, 16-year-old sons… Part of it is certainly deliberate–Westerfeld’s books are definitely for a younger age. His books have amazing drawings and maps that I stare at for a long time. Priest’s map is minimal and the second book doesn’t even have one, which makes me sad. (I adore maps. I flip back and forth between the book and the map all the time trying to figure out exactly where something is. Adore. Them.)

Point is, you can’t go wrong with either one. For some reason the whole Steampunk thing appeals to me. It’s a fabrication, but it’s familiar enough that I don’t feel like I’m swimming through some murky sea of sci-fi or fantasy trying to figure out the dragon’s name or remember just how many arms that creature does have. I appreciate the clever changes and alternate ideas, but basing them in my own world isn’t that difficult because that’s exactly what the author has done. It just works better for me. A fantasy of compromise. Or a compromised fantasy? Hm. Neither of those sounds right, do they?

Cherie Priest also has other books that she’s written, and I’m tempted to try them. But I’ve been burned before on that. Meljean Brook writes vampire/werewolf paranormal romances as well. I tried one of those. Meh. It didn’t even feel like the same author. But Brook also has a short story (“Here There Be Monsters”–it’s in a collection of short stories called Burning Up) set in the same world of The Iron Duke and I loved it. So I’m not willing to risk Priest’s other books just yet. Maybe after I’ve finished Dreadnought and am desperate for something else.

And my favorite feature of all these books? Yes, they’re all available on amazon.com or you can get online to the Multnomah County Library. You’ll have to put some of them on hold because they’re so popular (which is why I didn’t review The Wind-Up Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi–haven’t been able to read it yet because I’m 97 of 112 holds or something ridiculous like that) but it’s the best deal out there.

 

Evolution of Writing Doldrums.

Rare Earth by Ward and Brownlee book coverNothing gets you feeling more insignificant than reading a few books about natural history and evolution. Started off with Wonderful Life by Stephen Jay Gould, am almost finished with Crucible of Creation by Simon Conway Morris, and have started moving on to Rare Earth by Peter D. Ward and Donald Brownlee. The charm of Wonderful Life is that Gould is such a good writer. He’s amusing and entertaining and makes me feel like it’s not such a big deal that we may have never existed at all. Basically, shrug it off and go get a latte.

Conway Morris is a bit drier (and has taken me longer to get through). He apparently used to agree with Gould, then changed his thinking a bit and wrote his book in response. He claims that something man-like would have eventually arisen out of the evolutionary muck of the Burgess Shale. Which would be comforting if I hadn’t read Evolution by Stephen Baxter a few years ago. Another cheerful little book. I like the worlds he describes in the past the best–big flying things and clever dinosaurs with tools. The speculation about the future bummed me out and was a little creepy.  Did not like the rodents herding the elephant-human things. Basically, yes, man would have eventually showed up to the party, had a great time and a couple of stiff drinks, thrown a barstool and made an ass of himself, but then he would have left out the backdoor all sloppy and drunk and no one would care or notice that he’s gone. Which is slightly depressing. Being the self-centered creature I am, I like thinking that consciousness and intelligence was the end-all purpose of evolution. It seems fitting that we are the only species that is actually aware of where we came from and can write books and argue about it. It’s a little trippy to think about. All those silly prokaryotes swimming around for billions of years haven’t had nearly the fun we have. They may have the staying power, but they’re the wallflowers at the party. Worse. They didn’t even bother getting dressed up.

But I know that’s not the way it is. This is not the age of mammals, it’s the age of insects. They outnumber us and are far less fragile. And seem less prone to self-destruction. And it seems fairly certain that rodents will one day rule the world. I know that intelligence is just a little blip in our DNA and doesn’t mean much of anything when faced with atmospheric changes or exploding suns or meteors. Blah, blah, blah. (Although I do hope that Billy Bob Thornton and Bruce Willis are around to save us from the meteors. I mean, honestly. You’re telling me that a species who can create theatrical genius like Armageddon can’t survive a little earth-changing volcanic eruption? It seems unreasonable.)

The point is that it’s hard to write when faced with our inevitable destruction. Absurd, I know. It’s not like it’s imminent. And the whole process of writing is one of those life-affirming, immortality-establishing things. But what does it matter when the rodent-herders rule the world and won’t even appreciate my bons mots?

It’s enough to make me want to go get a latte–with extra foam.

 

Collective Nouns

This is amazing to me. And officially one of my new favorite things. I was reading my book aloud to a friend and she suddenly stopped me and questioned my use of “a herd of ostriches.” A herd of ostriches didn’t sound right to her. “Shouldn’t it be a flock of ostriches?” she asked. And, always grateful to use an excuse to do research and not write, I went online. And after finding all of these fabulous websites about collective nouns, I’ve discovered that no, it’s definitely a herd of ostriches. They’re only a flock when you refer to them as birds–if that opportunity ever comes up. (One site actually went so far as to call them a pride, but I don’t think I go for that.)

I found three sites to be the most useful. The first is a UK site that seems to be the most serious. Although even they have the “Some That Might Be” section which is a little quirky and funny. The second is a Wikipedia site, and since we all know how I feel about Wikipedia… It’s all right, just not as entertaining as could be because I have misplaced prejudices against it. The site AllSorts.org is the best. All Sorts – a linguistic experiment. You can follow them on Twitter and everyone posts their own ideas to the website. Brilliant! And so fun–all of the random entries are there. “A clot of vampires,” “a brace of dentists,” “a whorde of prostitutes” (just FYI, “whorde” is defined as “an angry mob of slutty chicks… can be seen at shitty concerts or @ a party watching Gilmore Girls” in the Urban Dictionary)….some of them put the old favorite “a murder of crows” to shame.

My absolute favorite, however, and one I’ve never been able to find since, is “a something of models.” Online I found “a bulimia of models,” “a tantrum of models,” “a slouch of models,” but none of those are it (although “slouch of models” is pretty good). It was perfect and I wish I could find it again. Some friends and I were discussing it one day and I’m sure it was in a book. And I think the book was An Exaltation of Larks by James Lipton, but I can’t remember for sure… So frustrating. Although there is another book that looks interesting–A Crash of Rhinoceroses: A Dictionary of Collective Nouns by Rex Collings. It’s written by a British author, however, so I can’t imagine that was the book we would have been discussing. Lipton first wrote his book back in the 60’s or 70’s, and this edition is the updated “ultimate” edition published in 1993. It seems Collings’ book is also published in 1993, so I wonder if one prompted the other? I suppose I’ll just have to read the books myself. Sigh… Yet another excuse to not get writing done. It’s a disease, I tell you…

 

Collective Nouns

Aside Leave a comment
An Exaltation of Larks by James Lipton