The Awesome and the Less Awesome

While scanning Amazon and drooling over books I can't afford, I was surprised to see that the pre-order mention for Arturo Pérez-Reverte's new book are up. (It's actually a few years old; only the English translation is new.)

The first thing that caught me as the badass title. (I'm currently swayed by the Levant's badassery due to reading Edward Whittemore's Jeruseleam Quartet at the moment.) After the title and thinking how awesome the story would be in the hands of the most capable author I noticed the font of the title and the author's name and placement--and loved them both. The above has me super stoked for this book.

Then I looked at the cover itself-from a distance if you will. I hate that dumb-ass picture; and the series had just recovered from travesty of blandness in, The King's Gold to the uber-awesome, The Caballero in the Yellow Doublet.

(Boring.)

(Said transitory awesome.)

Artwork aside--and no, I don't plan on a regular commentary on book covers--the king of all awesome was the only 'blurb' I could find about the book, Pirates of the Levant. Having read much of Pérez-Reverte's work before, I can't help but think this comes directly from the author himself:

This was a time when Spain was revered, feared, and hated in the easterly seas; when the devil had no color, no name, and no flag; and when the only thing needed to summon hell on earth (or sea) was a Spaniard and his sword.

September second is my new Christmas.

Purple and Black by K.J. Parker

In this long short story Parker creatively explores ideas of leadership and power; idealism versus reality; book knowledge against real life experience. Two friends, both around thirty, have recently come into leadership positions and through a series a letters that comprise the narrative they share their triumphs and learning experiences.

The setting seems to be modeled after ancient Rome. Nico is the newly crowned emperor and Phormio is his newly appointed general assigned to quell insurgency in a distant region. Though the book has a feel of antiquity you'll find none of the flowery, affected historical prose of Arturo Pérez-Reverte or other such stylist. The two characters jest, swear and talk politics in language that we hear today; full of fragments, and run-ons, that add realism to their speech.

As the two bicker at the start, the plot slips in very subtly much like the details of their past. Everything about their letters feels real. Both have to deal with morality, one being an active general, the other a politician signing death warrants. By the end, their definition of morals may need a few amendments, yet it is in their seemingly shared philosophy concerning government and power that the story is built on.

It's not the book of military and imperial rule you're expecting, rather a story of relationships and how they develop over time. The story is too delicate to speak of without spoiling. Suffice it to say the phrase, 'a kiss on the lips and a dagger in the heart' comes to mind upon completion.

There is a jarring moment midway through as both characters seem to obsess over someone previously mentioned all of two times. The story shifts drastically and considering the subtly of Parker's narrative, and work's overall brevity, this particular change of direction is extremely blunt.

Not that I'm sensitive to profanity, but I did think it was a bit overused to the detriment of a few passages that may have been strengthened had Parker held back. Readers familiar with Robert Graves I, Claudius and Claudius the God may find a little something extra in Parker's possible homage.

It reads at a fast pace, and can easily be conquered in one sitting. It will stay with you a bit longer. A big thanks to Terry Wenya as I'm now a K.J. Parker fan and have a lot of, hopefully, equally pleasant reading ahead of me.

Everyman's Library; a Book Review.

In this series I'm going to evaluate the quality of book manufacturing from various publishers. I intend only to focus on the quality of the physical book itself.

Everyman's Library, by Knopf, is Random House's high-end book press; specializing in reprints of classics works of fiction, philosophy, poetry, history and much more. The catalogue, so far as contemporary fiction is concerned, seems to focus on 'literary fiction.' Authors like Toni Morrison, John Updike, and Margaret Attwood (and a huge handful of others) are what you can expect in terms of recent additions. Everyman's Library has an emphasis on acquiring what they deem to be the very best fiction and publishing it in the very best of conditions. In terms of the physical book, they succeed quite admirably.

The high production values are evident if you look for them: cloth binding, silk page markers, off-white heavy paper, and sewn signatures. Yet there is nothing in the host of details Everyman's Library presents that would draw attention to itself. One of the primary things I like about Everyman's Library is the consistency in size of their books. There are, of course, no universal specs on book dimensions, but not all publishers manufacture books to the same dimensions and while it doesn't affect quality in the least bit it is a visual aesthetic that I'm sensitive to when viewing a bookcase. There is, however, a small intentional inconsistency in the print of Everyman's Library's books: the color of the cloth binding.

Each color represents a different designation of genre as defined by the publisher. Poetry is one color, while 19th century works are another. Not a issue or even a point of interest unless you remove the dust jackets; whose standard bar codes are the only thing that can really be said to mar an other wise timeless and universally appealing edition.

In reading the ten-fifteen or so books I own from this collection I have seen great differences in the font sizes used and spacing of the words on the pages. Perhaps it's my poor eye sight (or perhaps it is page count of certain books) but some volumes require a bit more squinting to read than others. That being said it is an issue I can't really fault the publisher for; it's a battle to elegantly publish the mammoth works of Dostoevsky and others and keep the amount of paper used at a reasonable quantity, and it's a task I would say they, overall, manage very well.

Everyman's Library should be standard fair in hardback book publishing. At the cost they sell for new, I can't believe that their extra efforts add that much to the cost of production. Sadly, their quality is not the industry's bar. Everyman's Library is nothing so special as to make one say, 'ohhhh, and ahhh.' Much as I said about Mount Gay Eclipse Rum Everyman's Library is merely everything done right yet nothing stands out: an exceptionally well-made book built to last, and by that virtue alone they are a cut above the rest.

The Month In Review and of Things to Come

This has not been a happy, nor productive, month. Second job? Check. Eight to twelve hour days? Check. Forty one days straight? Check. Less pay, time off, and benefits than before? Check. End rant.

I read and reviewed Ursula K. Le Guin's The Dispossessed this month (which as a hopeful sociology Ph.D. candidate I couldn't help but love) and in a catastrophic computer FAIL, I have nothing to show for it. (I will never trust those work computers again!) I was really happy with that review. I will recreate it as best I can soon.

Fail filled as the month may be, I'm happy with my new book review series, I scored the mother-load from Subterranean Press, (FINALLY!!!) and Franklin Press ( stay tuned...).

In the immediate future I see a beach, and glassware filled with rum and small umbrellas. Past that there is work, Edward Whittemore and Michael Swanwick. If I can persevere through the bad, I think there are better days ahead.

Let the brevity--and heavy overuse of parenthesis--be a sign of my overwhelming exhaustion.

The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin

This is a book of 'ism's: capitalism, socialism, sexism, anarchism, egoism and all of the inherent goods and bads that go along with each. There is apparent allegory between the stories settings and factions with real world powers, civil unrest, and global conflict at the time of the book’s writing, but the strengths of the work can be appreciated far removed from their possible inspirations.

To call the book a work of science fiction will turn some readers off right away, and to the reader who is that shallow and closed minded I say they wouldn't enjoy the subtext anyways. Shevek is a physicist and quiet possibly the brightest of his time. He is a man made by the world he grew up on, Anarres. He seeks a larger community of scientist to push his intellect and expand the development of his field, and such a community can only be found on Urras. What Shevek finds, and what the book develops, is a culture clash that opens eyes to different perspectives and exposes what Shevek thought to be a perfect world to be as marred and flawed as any other.

Anarres, Shevek's world, is one of sharing: everyone works for one another. That shared pain is humanities' bond is Shevek’s defining ideal. There is no such concept as ownership or profit. (Possessive pronouns are foreign to this world. Even when it comes to things as children or ideas; which in turn made me think of many a Bible verses though religious themes are never explicitly explored.) Even Shevek, who has the aforementioned unique knack for physic, spends regular rotations working odd jobs ranging from janitorial to day labor; all for the state.

The people of Anarres see Shevek as a deviant when he expresses a wish to visit and study with the ‘profiteers’ on Urras. He, and his family by association, are made outcast of both thought and reality and deemed ‘egoist’ of the highest degree; the most depraved of insults on Anarres. Anarres prefers isolation as to avoid outside influence on their socialist state and aberrant thinking stands out. Yet it is only in Shevek's leaving Anarres that we see oddities in the system: hierarchies where there previously were none, and people in positions of power when all should be equal.

In his time spent abroad he is shown capitalism, in addition to being introduced to deception and abuse of his naivety. Shevek sees capitalism as a 'prison' that people can afford. It is Le Guin's presentation that yields such great credibility to the multitude of concepts she explores. There is only explanation of a thought or cultural quark when necessary and 'back-story' as to how things came to be is minimal to non-existent. Since the characters simply act as they do, and all involved treat what may seems a peculiar incident to the reader as the way things are, the reader willingly accepts many a foreign concept. Writers on Le Guin's level don’t seem to need to work as hard as others to suspend disbelief.

I would go so far as to say that world building is Le Guin’s strongest achievement in The Dispossessed; even greater than her social commentary. The level of education on Anarres, or the sexual freedom are easy to digest as no character is ever taken to task over such issues and made to explain a history of how things came to pass or why they live as they do. It’s just the way things are. Le Guin has been a genre writer for so long that perhaps the definition of world building has changed since The Dispossessed publication. The modern overwrought, back-story and history that seems to define world building today is completely absent here and it is that absence that lends strength and believability to the prose. I think it is more of Le Guin’s ‘literary’ merits which lean towards concision and active thought on the reader’s behalf that may keep the majority of modern genre fans away more so than the complex social dynamic she constructs.

How the many social issues manifest themselves in the plot is amazing. Shevek’s meeting of Vea, a beautiful married woman of Urras, is the culmination of opposite views. Vea’s beauty—and all she does to enhance it—forces Shevek to reconsider a popular saying, on Anarres, “Excess is excrement.” Yet it is Vea’s people that consider Shevek amoral even when it is she who suggest a tryst. Vea, and her ideas can perhaps best be summed up with, “Morality is a superstition; like religion. True human nature is to be selfish and to be able to admit it. I don't care about other people and don't want to.” Her willingness to look the other way, and views on the role of the individual and what is their expected contribution to society make for a powerful attraction of opposites with Shevek. And lest you think all matters of conflict are philosophical it is a sexual encounter between the two that, for me, not only drove all points home but also exposed the weaknesses in both their ideals and comes close to a colossal loss of identity for one of the two.

The reader is given a very limited view of the overall story as the chapters alternate between events on Anarres and Urras in addition to not flowing in sequential order. While it is temporarily jarring this approach makes the reader focus on what is given at the moment and any ‘gaps’ in the narrative are resolved in forthcoming pages, or a chapter previously read. The Dispossessed is the only book I can think of that makes a case for breaking strict chronological order.

While the people of Anarres and Urras are exposed to many things, little is learned. What the characters miss is perhaps to the readers gain. We are treated to an amazing story and a critical examination of the social differences that will remain pertinent as long as there is structure in the world we live in.

Easton Press; a book Review.

In this series I'm going to evaluate the quality of book manufacturing from various publishers. I intend only to focus on the quality of the physical book itself.

Easton Press is to books what Bösendorfors are to pianos: perfection. No expense is spared, nothing is left wanting, and long after the novelty of initial acquisition has faded appreciation can still be wrought. Many books in the Easton Press Library composes of public domain works and "the classics," but they also publish newer fiction; works they feel will be classics in years to come. In terms of contemporary fiction it's nice to see Gene Wolfe, Toni Morrison, and Gabriel García Márquez given the same treatment and held in equal regard as Fitzgerald, Proust, and Faulkner.

Full disclaimer: I own three works from Easton Press; all of which were bought from Atlanta Vintage Books, in 'mint' condition as defined by a book antiquarian. All have full genuine leather binding, 22 karat gold lettering and art on the front and back covers as well as guilt pages, thread sewn pages--not merely glue, raised bands on the spine that add a visual interest and an antique look, and a silk page-marker sewn into the binding. Think of Easton Press as the Henle Edition of literature: these books aren't going to fall apart, unless you try to take them apart.

While the books are expertly made, ironically the end result is that of a really old looking book. The gold trim, and cracked leather binding instantly give off the vibe of a much older product. The nicety of these products is that they are brand new, have the antique feel, and are heirloom quality.

There are discrepancies though. Oddly enough paper is the issue when most in publishing bemoan the cost of ink. Not all books come with the moiré silk pages in the front and back. (And if you've never experienced a silk 'page' it really is something to see. It's as decadent as it sounds.) The paper quality--texture and thickness--varies. All of the paper Easton Press uses is phenomenal and head-and-shoulders above other publishers, but it isn't consistent from book to book. Again, the 'poorest' of their paper is far better than most; the issue is only noticeable when multiple volumes are compared.

The price of these books will knock a casual book buyers on their ass, but for a collector or those who really appreciate a job done to the highest degree of quality Easton Press is worth the money. The summary is easy: There is no better book being made today.

Novels, Short Stories, and Interruptions

These thoughts were inspired by an entry at Stomping on Yeti.

Much as I love them, short stories really slow down my reading. There is, for me, an acclimation period in starting to read a book, or short story. When I sit down to read a novel I've never read before, I go through fifty pages before I put it down. After that many pages, I have a feel for the writer's style and can tell if the book is holding anything of interest for me.

It's very difficult to find a similar arbitrary page count for short stories. Ideally, I'll read a short story in one sitting (anything around 100 pages or so.) That's a combination of my reading preference and finding the time to knock it out. That acclimation period for short stories in anthologies or collections from multiple authors makes getting through the collection that much longer than it should for me; even if the stories are great.

I don't mind interruptions in reading a novel, past that first fifty pages, and while I try to stop at the end of a chapter it doesn't always workout that way. Short stories, seem to take more time; add in any of lifes interruptions and it can be really jarring.

This is especially troubling as the list of short stories of interest to me coming out this year alone is staggering: Stories ed. by Neil Gamin and Al Sarrantonio, Leviathan Wept by Daniel Abraham (if it ever gets here!), The Secret History of Fantasy ed. Peter S. Beagle, Wings of Fire ed. by Jonathan Strahan and Marrianne Jablon, Rachel Swirsky's Through the Drowsy Dark, Swords and Dark Magic, ed. by Jonathan Strahan and Lou Anders, The Ammonite Violin and Other Stories by Caitlin R. Kiernan (the latter two pending if Subterraean Press can ship Leviathan Wept before, Kiernan's ship date...) The Way of the Wizard, by John Joseph Adams, and Occultation by Laird Barron.

And those are only the collections I'm aware of; with my short story reading difficulty, it could take me the rest of the year to only read short stories; not even mentioning the novels I already have/want. Much as Patrick asked in the above post, anyone else have this problem?