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larryhammerReading day, meme day, yay yay yay. Or as TBD might say right now, "Reading reading liang jing jing" -- but I digress.
Finished:
Ordermaster by L.E. Modesitt, the second half of the story started with Wellspring of Chaos. It has some structural lumpiness, only partly explained by being the second half of a story. Said overall story is at least resolved mostly to satisfaction, though the costs of violence are more hand-waved at than actually explored. And with that, I am probably done with poking at Modesitt for a while.
The Novels of Anthony Trollope by James R. Kincaid, a surprisingly sensible study, read by way of looking for pointers on what would be a good Trollope to read next. (SPOILER: Rachel Ray is supposedly a fluffy, optimistic romance.)
In progress:
Sorcerer to the Crown by Zen Cho, a Regency fantasy with matter by way of Clarke (rather than Wrede/Stevermer) and manner by way of Wodehouse and Heyer, all choices I approve. That there is far more Heyer than Wodehouse in the mix is disappointing enough to highlight just how much the world needs full-on Wodehousean fantasy -- Somebody Get On That. The storytelling itself is a little disappointing -- while I'm reading, I'm pulled along, but it's too easy to delay returning. (That said, it's definitively more compelling than Newt's Emerald, which is very much in the Wrede/Stevermer vein.) It does not help that that the protagonists both flip between very bright and blockheaded, apparently in service of the plot. Regardless, am heading toward the finish line, and I will definitely pick up the sequel.
I also read a few more chapters of Rondo Allegro, to a little short of half-way.
---L.
Subject quote from "Dolor Poem," Theodore Roethke.
Finished:
Ordermaster by L.E. Modesitt, the second half of the story started with Wellspring of Chaos. It has some structural lumpiness, only partly explained by being the second half of a story. Said overall story is at least resolved mostly to satisfaction, though the costs of violence are more hand-waved at than actually explored. And with that, I am probably done with poking at Modesitt for a while.
The Novels of Anthony Trollope by James R. Kincaid, a surprisingly sensible study, read by way of looking for pointers on what would be a good Trollope to read next. (SPOILER: Rachel Ray is supposedly a fluffy, optimistic romance.)
In progress:
Sorcerer to the Crown by Zen Cho, a Regency fantasy with matter by way of Clarke (rather than Wrede/Stevermer) and manner by way of Wodehouse and Heyer, all choices I approve. That there is far more Heyer than Wodehouse in the mix is disappointing enough to highlight just how much the world needs full-on Wodehousean fantasy -- Somebody Get On That. The storytelling itself is a little disappointing -- while I'm reading, I'm pulled along, but it's too easy to delay returning. (That said, it's definitively more compelling than Newt's Emerald, which is very much in the Wrede/Stevermer vein.) It does not help that that the protagonists both flip between very bright and blockheaded, apparently in service of the plot. Regardless, am heading toward the finish line, and I will definitely pick up the sequel.
I also read a few more chapters of Rondo Allegro, to a little short of half-way.
---L.
Subject quote from "Dolor Poem," Theodore Roethke.