Another unputdownable novel in the series. The best parts feel revelatory, as they pick up in medias res from where you leave off. Memoir, possibly some measure of Autofiction, if people knew anything verifiable of Ferrante.

Off the back of the last two, which feel very much to me like a duology, we fall into a malaise mirroring middle book syndrome that feels like the passion and decisive insight gleaned by the two and fro of happiness and sadness evaporate. This seems to be the number one complaint of this, but when the shift occurs outside of this, it feels just like the previous books, the reasons for which would be spoilers. But I thought then and think now that the intentional choice of sinking the reader into the change in writer is bold and worked very well. The form mirrors the characters emotions, the same as the personality and emotions experienced before. It is undeniably less observant and keen, blunted to make a point. I found it worked for me. I still could not stop reading. Though I did think it may end up less successful.

Instead it rockets up to the same highs that always seem to be provided. For a reader that doesn’t derive much pleasure from the macro construction of a narrative, I could see why this wouldn’t be as good. For me, had the middle period not been constructed as it was, I don’t think the end of this one would have hit just as well. The second book is still my favourite, but it’s kind of like saying the first book and this third one is *only* 5 stars, where the second is 10. And that high because of the counterpoint to the first. Leaving me to wonder if the last book will similarly be in counterpoint to this, augmented to an almost arbitrarily too-high height.

Moreno-Garcia is always good at setting and theme, but I almost always never connect fully with the characters or how the plot is handled, nor the pacing. I come away luke warm, always hoping the next one I try will provoke the reaction so many others seem to have to her work.

This was an unusual story with an interesting conflict resolution centering women, which was such a nice breath of fresh air. Great message too. The voice actors are amazing and it’s really neat that it’s through phone calls and voice mails. Great stuff.

Famous for being the basis for the film Blade Runner, this centres Rick Decard, a bounty hunter who operates out of Sam Francisco in the future. He finds and “retires” androids and his main, most desperate goal is to have a real animal to replace his electric sheep, embodying the masquerade that is his life.

Some parts of this lived up to expectations of a “masterworks” (the edition I have), and some did not. It is wildly fertile with philosophical ideas. It is fundamental to science fiction too, in that it asks very clearly questions about the human condition. It’s not prescriptive at all, and is so subjective about some elements it can be baffling. Undeniably, though, it provokes emotion and reflection. It reads very quickly, too. Unexpectedly so. My favourite quote of all time comes from this book, and I didn’t even know it:

“You will be required to do wrong no matter where you go. It is the basic condition of life, to be required to violate your own identity.”

This is the beating heart of the thing. The notion that we have erected a society that is fundamentally not able to nourish a person, whether at a community level or an individual one. Keeping up with the Jetsons is having a different, cool, and most importantly, real animal. Empathy is key, and people are so disassociated from themselves that love and contact is so pivotal, it’s their only drive. Not just Decard, it is the obsession of nearly everyone in the novel.

Abstractly, the plot of Decard finding the escaped androids and retiring them in a short time frame is, I think, a pretty great depiction of a man battling entropy and nihilism, fighting to keep the parts of him that make him human—even as the job he’s given and continually spurred to do, robs him of his humanity. But what survival is there when the only thing you can perform in society is that task that dehumanizes you?

Sometimes tiny acts, or the illusion of, or performance of empathy and connection to another person is enough to get you through one more day of constant entropy. There is no catharsis or reconciliation with that dichotomy which pervades western society, certainly, but probably everywhere. This book asks where it is we hurt, as a species. Why do we have empathy and what is it there for?

Thematically it is quite adept at this. But I do have to say it is also shockingly muddled in other areas of the craft. Most noticeably the prose, which, if I were being incredibly kind, would characterize as uneven. Parts of it read like a high school creative writing class. Dialogue is often more poorly executed than even serviceably good. The major plot is fine, but there are many tangents and questions begged from various conceits that are completely, ineptly, handwaved. Fundamental things like how androids actually manage to come to earth and supplant ostensibly human counterparts in high up institutions. We know they have to kill someone and forge documents to get there, yet in the month present on earth one can become a well known and regarded opera singer? Did they assume that person and kill them, or are the papers themselves used to forge the new identity? Who knows.

There are interesting questions raised around psychopathy and sociopathy and mental health correlating to the madness inherent in the construction of society, but it’s never actually explored. The test for androids insinuates that androids could develop the response to pass the test, but no android acts in a non-binary manner to a simply empathy-no empathy perspective.

There are basic exposition versus description issues, and an event in the later chapter with Mercer that makes genuinely zero sense, as far as I can tell. Whether it is a moment of surrealism or something else, it’s used to elide a lot of narrative tension around a conflict. It’s a very strange decision.

On the whole, it’s well worth reading, but a very messy book. And, to be honest, if “masterworks” quality in craft reflect the work in this book, it’s kind of no wonder it took SFF so long to be acknowledged seriously from a literary perspective.

Up until the end this remained a 4 star read for me. Mostly because it is wildly solipsistic. Stoner is a vivid character, and the quiet intensity with which the prose reflect his stoicism and inner life is accomplished. Everything feels opaque and the inability to connect to anything, especially in the later half, make it an isolating and seemingly lacking work. It’s an intentional, near perfect rendering of a lens able to capture one subject from one, imperfect angle, yet also encapsulates a forever hazy interest in everything around it.

In many ways I felt like I was compiling a list of dings against it, until the end, when I think the final card played shows that every mark against it is the point. His solipsism and his disconnection and his stoicism are facile and detrimental regretfully necessary to asses Stoner’s life. There is enough here to conclude that the sum of his life, without a thumb on the scale, brings subjective conclusions that are unexpectedly interesting. Most of the complaints I’ve seen against the book in reviewers here are all addressed on his last reflections. Understanding that how he perceived and rendered his world—through dispassionate disassociation—facilitated a very sad existence.

But there is also dignity and some measure of grace in his eliding of a “full” life. It’s as much as a warning as it is a compilation of qualities that would benefit people. And I can always sympathize with characters unable to connect with other people well, since I have a similar affliction. It’s something you either “get”, or you don’t. Every single time I read something that captures the deep seeded regret of not being able to communicate or be understood or function socially in a way that would gather people around your hearth, and felt myself rendered there, I have also seen fellow reviewers misunderstand.

People imagine it’s a lack of effort or simply willful ignorance, rather than a difference of how one perceives the world and others, and how, subsequently, a person can navigate it. To me, it’s something like telling someone overweight that they should lose weight, well intentioned or not. Or really addressing any kind of illness with a kind of blase only people without that lived experience can muster.

In the end, Stoner articulates every issue with the narrative himself. His one dimensional perception of other characters renders them as such. There are complexities to his wife and daughter and every other human that are significant and out of reach. He characterizes it, at one point, as ignorance. And it is a kind of ignorance, I suppose. But one thing we get out of this as a reader that Stoner does not, is that his composition was there from birth. He struggles against the definition of himself all the way, and sometimes manages to succeed at real change. But he is a person not well made for the society constructed around him.

I find myself having more than enough sympathy and empathy with that. My complaints about Stoner as a book fit the man rendered here too a tee—and he knows it. He’s said as much.

This was a weird book for several reasons. At a meta level, I really like the ideas presented, and sometimes how they’re explored. Especially the idea of winding up a character with chivalric stories as a way of showcasing how nonsensical and unrealistic what those tales communicate. They function as puritanical propaganda essentially and if you’ve ever read them, then you know they are often don’t make an effort to make actual sense, in terms of a through line narrative or keeping to tone or the expectations that they set.

Having an older Everyman embody those qualities and loose him upon (then) modern times showcases how, whatever your beliefs and value systems, the person that is most well liked and is willing to inflict violence is the person who decides what social constructs are going to be accepted by everyone else. And obviously those notions embodied in Quixote butt heads continually with people that don’t subscribe to them, and is seen as a someone who is mentally ill and he and his squire Sancho get regularly trounced.

Regardless of your perceptions there are physical limitations to imagination; things that can be dominated and things that cannot be. Most conflicts and situations see the duo interrogate class and values, to varying degrees of success.

It’s also wonderfully and terribly aware of itself. The author exercises a heavy hand in inserting himself in the narrative, further commenting outright on the themes and the art of writing itself, and our relationship to fiction as we consume it. How what we consume works on us has always fascinated me, as it obviously informs how we construct our lens of the world. Whether people admit it or not, absolutely everything we consume—on the page or otherwise—informs how we interact with any number of things. It’s how advertising works. It’s how propaganda works. It’s how socialization and social dynamics works. And so on.

The high level concept, various themes, and some of the humour I appreciated and resonated with. But, for me, the low brow humour and continual inserts from the author immediately stymied my enjoyment whenever I would get into the fiction. The craft is obviously good to me, and I got something out of it. But it’s a book I appreciate, will absolutely only remember the take away, not plot details whatsoever, and can’t say it was a pleasure to consume. Very glad to be completely done with it.

This was a lot more fun than I expected, to be honest. I recently picked up A Dowry of Blood and thought, probably I should be aware of what happens in Dracula first. After all it is a retelling AFAIK.

Everyone knows some variation of the story of Dracula. I’ve seen many movies, but I actually shouldn’t be surprised to favour the book over them all. With one important caveat: it is written in the form of ostensibly found objects, usually epistolary. This really, really pushes the bounds of a conceit as the story goes on. However. If you’re willing to suspend disbelief and enjoy a character and creature such as Dracula, maybe that’s not that huge an ask of most people. I am a reader that really wants diegetic devices and consistency in the story by the fiction, as established, to be a concern, so it did bother me sometimes.

Other than that, I really liked the prose, the actual plot beats, and how different the characters I “know” from other variations of the story. Particularly Van Helsing, who is far less macho and kind. And the women, who I think exercise more agency in this than I’ve seen before. Probably the biggest welcome surprise in consuming it.

It is still not something I get behind at a macro thematic standpoint. When you get granular about it I think this is pretty conservative and boils down to new ideas, foreign beliefs, cultures, and people bad—tradition and puritanical notions good. It is also, though, dripping with atmosphere, eroticism, gothic fundamentals, and perhaps overwritten, but very evocative language. It’s an absolute romp.

Going into this blind was so damn fun and I recommend the same experience for any reader. The less you know, absolutely the better.

I knew it was about gender but wasn’t expecting it to be beyond an antiquated political landscape, which certainly is here as well, but drilling down into selfhood and juxtaposing experience just feels… more advanced? than could be expected from what I’ve consumed of literature from the time period, and even her other works.

A finely crafted coming-of-age narrative voice propels this story of near-future dystopia in Labrador (Canada, yay!) That is much changed due to climate effects. In a small rural town a group of “deviations” are emerging amongst a highly reactionary conservative “moralistic” government that culls every kind of mutation that emerges in their borders. Typically, these things manifest as physical, and are easily spotted. But our protagonist has developed a kind of telepathy, as have others. While they enjoy “passing”, as such, they also know the comfort their invisibility affords can’t last forever.

The coming-of-age dystopia has been done to death, but I found the prose to be captivating. It starts tense and continues is over. It’s interesting seeing the fear of fallout essentially reaching absolutely everywhere in the world, and tethering that fear to larger themes around conservative values rooted in puritanical fascist moralism and progressiveness with stakes in science and evolution and nature. It makes this story work at a much more satisfying level, because it can never really be antiquated. Conservatives always react this way, and we’re seeing it currently around such small progressive changes in culture like abortion, trans rights, and “identity politics” and critical race theory. Already we see the alt right and cons embody the people of the town and government steeping their radicalism in western religious beliefs.

Beyond that, it’s just a really solid little story. It reads fast, ostensibly the narrator is older and telling the story so it isn’t hindered by having to craft too young a voice, and water down the diction. It’s completely character driven. It’s not bombastic for shock value as many telepathy stories tend to be. It’s just a really good classic science fiction construction delving into human experience with devices that are hallmarks of the genre.

A brief story that I think mainly focuses on highlighting for listeners that every trans experience is unique, especially when transitioning happens outside of the narrative that is most often seen by the public. It does assume a familiarity with the listener/reader, which I don’t have. I have never heard of the author before. There’s some inclusions in the story that feel like digressions, like a few work incidents that seemed to have nothing to do with the point of the story, but it’s like an hour and a half long, so, though I wouldn’t say it’s meaty, mostly clipping along very quickly with the macro life events that made her want to transition, and then the initial difficulties doing so. It highlights why it’s so important for trans people to transition and how many barriers there are in doing so, but it doesn’t go in depth to anything. For a free short story though, I don’t think that’s the intention or goal.