Dark, exquisite steampunk: Cherie Priest
Cherie Priest
(This picture was taken from wikipedia.)
“Dreadnought”
Scott Westerfeld is the king of steampunk, and Cherie Priest is the queen. While Westerfeld is quite light and fun, Priest is dark, with strong horror elements (her zombies are truly awful).
The rest of this review has been moved to Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
Tiny Socks
As of today, I’ve reached sixteen weeks. Mini-Me is over 11cm long (not counting his/her legs), and I could begin to feel movement any time from now on. The ondansetron is working; I am now eating a small selection of vegetables and meat, and today I was able to do some minor household chores including a load of washing that included some of these items:
Of course, now I’m exhausted and I need to lie down.
Do you, dear reader, plan to have children (assuming you don’t have kids already)? Why/why not?
I don’t think having children is a particularly rational thing to do. Theoretically, it means someone will look after you when you’re old – but that’s hardly guaranteed. You’d be better off saving your money and hiring a nurse.
Biology has a lot to answer for (and not just for “surprise” babies). The reason I want to have kids is because there’s a space in my heart for the love of a mother, and I can’t resist the urge to fill it (regardless of the cost). Also, as I’ve mentioned before, it gives my life a sacrificial focus that I crave. Raising children is one of life’s greatest, hardest, and most epic adventures.
Hobbit party
My friend Cupcake* had a birthday party on Saturday, and chose to indulge his natural hobbit-like tendencies. This meant:
1. Lots of food.
2. Lots of games.
3. He wore a charming hand-knitted waistcoat.
In a shocking twist, I actually attended. Altogether, I was out of my own house for over four hours.
In an even more shocking twist, I ate the same dinner as everyone else. It was stew with dumplings. Since I’ve been eating mainly bread for two months, the consumption of the dumpling was unsurprising. However I was also able to eat the pieces of carrot. . . my first recognisable vegetable since May. CJ was so shocked he took a photo:
Since the party, I’ve eaten potatoes and mushrooms with no ill effects. Thank you, hobbit party, for opening the door.
*not his real name
Healing History?
A few weeks ago, I blogged about the Sydney City Council voting to change official wording in order to acknowledge that Europeans didn’t “settle” in Australia – they invaded an occupied land. It bothers me that so much of the Western world is still richer than the rest because of similar acts that took place (and in some cases are still taking place – eg the steep interest on third world debt) around the world.
Which begs two questions: Are we eventually going to pay for what our ancestors did? And – is there any way we can avoid paying that price?
I think that history tends to even itself out, and no-one stays on top forever. As someone who is definitely living at the sharp end of the wealth pyramid (not me personally but certainly my lifestyle, city and country), this is a worry.
I think it’s often justice that arises to topple the unfairly rich – so I have a theory that if the rich turn around and start actively seeking real justice themselves then maybe they won’t get brought down after all.
It starts with honesty – which can cost a great deal. When I heard (several years ago now) that the Timor Timur government was offering amnesty for the crimes committed during twenty-five years of violence, I was so impressed I wrote a story about it, which is available on a podcast here. It is M-rated, and thus goes under the name Felicity Bloomfield. (I visited Timor Timur briefly when it was under transitional UN administration.)
I also admire Germany for hating Nazism more than any other place on Earth. And I admire Japan for not hating the West for dropping two nuclear bombs.
After honesty comes active compassion and the restoration of justice. But that’s the point where my imagination shorts out.
Do you think the West is doomed to fall? If so, do you think it can be saved?
What is steampunk?
To me, the question is simple. Steampunk is fiction inspired by the Victorian era (generally featuring steam technology) – and by “inspired by” I mean it is always deliberately anachronistic (especially in the area of fantastical tech). It is used to cover clockpunk (same thing, but pre-Victorian, when clock technology was the wonder of the age), and dieselpunk (post-Victorian, with lots of diesel tech especially zeppelins).
Here is an article on someone else’s take – featuring lots of great quotes. I’ve included this one because I agree with it:
Steampunk simply embodies a time and a place. The time… the late 19th century. The place… a steam powered world, where air travel by fantastical dirigibles is as common as traveling by train or boat (or submarine). A place where national interests are vastly different than our own version of history. A place where the elegant and refined are as likely to get pulled into a grand adventure, as the workers, ruffians, and lower classes. A place where the idea of space travel is not so far fetched. A place where lost civilizations are found and lost again. A place where anything is possible, and science can be twisted to meet ones own ends. That to me is the essence of Steampunk. It can have political overtones and commentary, or it can be straight escapist fiction. Either way, if it meets these criteria. It is Steampunk.
:-Joshua A. Pfeiffer a.k.a. Vernian Process
And here for your delectation is a slightly clockpunk (yes the clock is real, the entire table was made by hand, and it works) photo of my cat:
How not to begin your book
Here and here are two articles on book openings that are way, WAY overdone. Ooh! And here‘s another.
I’m guilty of a prologue or two, and the very first book of my children’s trilogy opens with the character waking up. But none of my characters ever, ever look in a mirror and describe what they see. Ugh!
And here’s a pretty (perturbed) kitty for this week:
Suspicious Baby
I’m not a baby person, but I do enjoy a “Yes, and?” look from a tiny person.
This little girl belongs to a friend of mine, who already knows she and Mini-Me are destined to be best friends.
“My Family and other Animals” by Gerald Durrell
As fiction, this book would be hilarious but too riotously fun and absurd to be believable. Since it is the autobiographical account of the Durrell family’s five years in the mad Greek island of Corfu, it is just a brilliantly funny book.
Gerald was around ten years old at the time, and obsessed with all creatures – snakes, scorpions, magpies, dogs, beetles, geckos, trap-door spiders – everything. It was an obsession that remained – you may have heard of his wildlife preserves and/or documentaries.
The peculiar characters of the island (and, more importantly, of the Durrell family) are brilliantly realised in all their glory.
Rating: G
It’s very difficult to describe the book, so I’ll just give you a glimpse and let you see for yourselves. This takes place on a dull afternoon when the entire family was ill except Larry (a WRITER), who was feeling morose. . .
At length, glancing moodily round the room, he decided to attack Mother, as being the obvious cause of the trouble.
“Why do we stand this bloody climate?” he asked suddenly, making a gesture to the rain-distorted window. “Look at it! And come to that, look at us. . . Margo swollen up like a plate of scarlet porridge. . . Leslie wandering around with fourteen fathoms of cotton wool in each ear. . . Gerry sounds as though he’s had a cleft palate from birth. . . And look at you: you’re looking more decrepit and hag-ridden every day.”
Mother peered over the top of a large volume entitled Easy Recipes From Rajputana.
“Indeed I’m not,” she said indignantly.
“You ARE,” Larry insisted; “you’re beginning to look like an Irish washerwoman. . . and your family looks like a series of illustrations from a medical encyclopedia.”
Mother could think of no really crushing reply to this, so she contented herself with a glare before retreating once more behind her book.
“What we need is sunshine,” Larry continued; “don’t you agree, Les? . . . Les? . . . LES!”
Leslie unravelled a large quantity of cotton-wool from one ear.
“What d’you say?” he asked.
“There you are!” said Larry, turning triumphantly to Mother, “it’s become a major operation to hold a conversation with him. I ask you, what a position to be in! One brother can’t hear what you say, and the other one can’t be understood. Really, it’s time something was done. I can’t be expected to produce deathless prose in an atmosphere of gloom and eucalyptus.”
“Yes, dear,” said Mother vaguely.
“What we all need,” said Larry, getting into his stride again, “is SUNSHINE. . . a country where we can GROW.”
“Yes, dear, that would be nice,” agreed Mother, not really listening.
Mini Big Nose
Still very sick. The last time I had a non-nauseous moment was Sunday, and my ability to eat food isn’t improving at all. I did a little research on ondansetron (Ondaz Zydis) and discovered there are no known issues with taking it during pregnancy (the crucial word being “known” – it has been tested on animals, but of course you can’t test these things on humans). I’ll probably start taking it again tonight.
Here are my predictions about Mini-Me’s future:
Big nose (both sides of the family, several generations)
Intelligent (both sides of the family, several generations)
Uncoordinated (both sides of the family)
Introvert (both sides of the family, and all the grandparents)
Vulnerable to cancer (CJ’s side) and mental illness/dementia (my side).
Will be born with either dark hair (my side) or white-blonde hair (CJ’s side), and will probably have blue or green eyes.
YA steampunk: The Sky Village
“The Sky Village” by Monk & Nigel Ashland
It hurts my brain trying to figure out if I love or hate this book. The front cover and the title location – a village of hot air balloons strung together – appear steampunk, but it’s not steampunk. It’s post-apocalyptic YA.
The rest of this review is at Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
Felicity Banks 