Eric Abrahamson and David H. Freedman, A Perfect Mess. A book of case studies, from homes to business organizations, arguing that “mess” is not inherently bad and in many cases is actually beneficial. The authors’ point is very valid; American ideals of “neat” and “organized” do tend to be at levels that take far more time to maintain than they give back in efficiency. But after a while I found the book’s evangelization annoying. The authors do acknowledge that there are particular situations where neatness indeed pays off, and levels of messiness that do indeed reach the pathological; however, it reads more like a token “yeah, a sloppy operating room is bad” than a real acknowledgement that there is still such thing as inappropriately messy. (As for the final section on smells, I invite them to ride around in my ex’s car on a hot day sometime.)
My chief disagreement with the book (and it’s possible that they do address this and I overlooked it) is that the authors don’t address situations where your individual messiness affects other people — not aesthetically (the authors make it quite clear that they’re on the side of “none of your business what someone else’s desk/yard/business plan looks like”), but functionally or financially. Asking “Does this level of mess help or harm my overall functioning?” is a necessary question, but so is “Does this level of mess help or harm the functioning of people who I have obligations toward — my spouse, my family, my coworkers?”
Naomi Novik, His Majesty’s Dragon. This is the first time in many years that I’ve read a science fiction or fantasy novel checked out from the library and immediately checked whether my budget will allow me to buy the author’s entire output (alas, not yet, but maybe next month). The “Pern meets Napoleonic Wars” description is pretty accurate. It’s a great deal of fun, and I admire Laurence very much. Overall, his switch from one subculture to another flows believably, especially in the numerous instances where he misinterprets something. My only minor complaint is that I’d like to see some “no, really, the aviator culture is dead wrong on this” attitudes.
So I reserved the next two books and read them. Throne of Jade follows Laurence and Temeraire to China on a diplomatic mission; Black Powder War covers the return trip (and has at least one moment where I said, “I wish my knowledge of European history wasn’t so dismal; I think this bit here is supposed to punch me in the face with its difference from our world, but I can’t remember well enough to know whether that’s actually the case”). Again, very enjoyable; however, while Novik is doing a great job wrapping up the individual novel’s story, the story arc keeps being left so obviously hanging that I’m now thinking I may just wait until a few more books are out before reading more; I’ve found I don’t like being left hanging for an indefinite period. (On the Bujold scale, the story wrapup is much closer to the Wide Green World than to the Vorkosiverse.) Then again, they’re enough fun that I may still grab book 4 from the library as soon as they get it in stock….
Caridad Ferrer, AdÃos to My Old Life. A really interesting YA novel about a girl who gets on an American Idol-like show.
Books I didn’t finish:
The Thirteenth Tale. From what I read of it, the praise of its writing is well-deserved. The main character is intriguing; her love of books is one most readers can identify with. The language is beautiful. So why did I stop? Because I got to the part with the sadistic boy and his sister, decided that I didn’t need those images in my head, and closed the book.
Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning. Again, great writing. If I were a young kid who’d never experienced real problems in my life, I’d probably enjoy the book (and the umpteen sequels). As an adult who’s luckier than most but aware that there are way too many bad things in the world that can’t be fixed, I don’t want to read about bad stuff that ultimately can’t be fixed. I read the first several chapters and the very end, and that was enough.
Larry McMurty, Lonesome Dove. I thought I’d give this book a try, as we’re publishing a book of photos from the TV miniseries version. From the few chapters I read, however, and from skimming the end, it’s yet another somewhat downbeat book with excellent writing.
Yes, if it isn’t obvious by now, I don’t like downbeat endings. I understand why a lot of folks do find them satisfying — they’re more in line with the real world, and some folks seem to find the tragedy cathartic. I’ve found, though, that it doesn’t work that way for me; if I get absorbed by the characters and story, then a downbeat ending leaves me downbeat. I can read tragedy and other sad endings fine, but only if I’m disengaged from the characters (e.g.: Hamlet), or if it’s a sad ending that has seeds of hope in the ashes (e.g.: LOTR, Lions of Al-Rassan, Lammas Night).
If I want hopeless, I’ll read the news. When I read fiction, I want hope.
