el dang started reading The Blossoming of Big Tree by Dilman Dila
#SFFBookClub November. I’m about half way through already, and one thing I can say without spoilers is that the author has clearly experienced the Fediverse at its most exasperating.
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#SFFBookClub November. I’m about half way through already, and one thing I can say without spoilers is that the author has clearly experienced the Fediverse at its most exasperating.
"Mankind will not get to fight for its destiny. They must sing. A century ago, …
There's a book I would have truly loved in here, but it's buried under enough trying to make every sentence glitter that I almost gave up on reading it more than once.
I think this is a general vibe I get from Valente: my introduction to her work was a short story (or maybe a book chapter?) read aloud by a friend, and I loved it. But I haven't got on well enough with either of the novels I've read by her to want more. Every sentence, every paragraph, is beautiful and funny and quotable, but after a while it gets exhausting. It reminds me of why I never followed comedians on Twitter. In the terms of this book: it can feel like the sort of music in which every bar is someone's solo and they're all trying to outdo each other. It ends up lacking dynamics and coherency.
…There's a book I would have truly loved in here, but it's buried under enough trying to make every sentence glitter that I almost gave up on reading it more than once.
I think this is a general vibe I get from Valente: my introduction to her work was a short story (or maybe a book chapter?) read aloud by a friend, and I loved it. But I haven't got on well enough with either of the novels I've read by her to want more. Every sentence, every paragraph, is beautiful and funny and quotable, but after a while it gets exhausting. It reminds me of why I never followed comedians on Twitter. In the terms of this book: it can feel like the sort of music in which every bar is someone's solo and they're all trying to outdo each other. It ends up lacking dynamics and coherency.
I'm very charmed by the basic idea of this book: First Contact happens, and the aliens immediately demand that Earth enters Galactic Eurovision to prove its higher life forms are worth admitting to the galactic community and not a threat who should be exterminated. And at its best, it's a fun ride along that premise. Not trying to take itself seriously, in large part a tribute to Douglas Adams. But it just gets tiring to read.
And then there's one detail that really grated on me: a Turkish character named "Omar Calişkan". "Çalışkan" is a common Turkish name, but Turkish has strong linguistic well-formedness rules and "Calişkan" is Just Not Turkish to the point of being irritating to see. I know this is a niche complaint, but it never stopped bugging me that she found the "ş", but not the "Ç" which would always go with it in Turkish, even though that one's in Latin-1. "Omar" doesn't feel like a Turkish name to me either (the equivalent would be "Ömer"), though I'm less confident in this one: maybe it's just unusual enough that I haven't run into any Turkish Omars. But anyway, this felt extra-jarring when the characters (father and son) are so well-observed that I felt very personally skewered by the "Englishblokeman" thing, and had a specific individual in mind when reading about the son. Couldn't author or editor have found a Turk to run the name by?
I'm finding it hard to say anything pithy about this book because it wraps so many different things together. I read it uncharacteristically slowly just because it was a busy time, and that maybe contributed to my sense that it's several different books woven together - but also to my enjoyment of the writing itself. It's beautifully done, and you should just go and read it yourself.
I'm finding it hard to say anything pithy about this book because it wraps so many different things together. I read it uncharacteristically slowly just because it was a busy time, and that maybe contributed to my sense that it's several different books woven together - but also to my enjoyment of the writing itself. It's beautifully done, and you should just go and read it yourself.
This is our October 2026 #SFFBookClub pick. I read this eight years ago when it came out, and thought I'd give it a reread for book club.
This feels much in the same lane as Douglas Adams or Terry Pratchett, with ridiculous band name puns, extremely long sentences, and constant digressions. The book explicitly doesn't take itself seriously, and unsurprisingly the book is incredibly light on plot. You could probably sum up the events of the book in a couple of sentences, but maybe also that's ok. That's not what you're here for.
(I do wonder a little how much this will hold up in ten years, with its references to Uber, Skrillex, and Clippy. This is already somewhat true for how Eurovision itself has soured.)
There is a moment of brief moment of seriousness when we finally see the details of the tragic incident at the …
This is our October 2026 #SFFBookClub pick. I read this eight years ago when it came out, and thought I'd give it a reread for book club.
This feels much in the same lane as Douglas Adams or Terry Pratchett, with ridiculous band name puns, extremely long sentences, and constant digressions. The book explicitly doesn't take itself seriously, and unsurprisingly the book is incredibly light on plot. You could probably sum up the events of the book in a couple of sentences, but maybe also that's ok. That's not what you're here for.
(I do wonder a little how much this will hold up in ten years, with its references to Uber, Skrillex, and Clippy. This is already somewhat true for how Eurovision itself has soured.)
There is a moment of brief moment of seriousness when we finally see the details of the tragic incident at the core of the band breaking up, of the parallels of UK deportations with galactic war, and the terror of uncertainty of whatever horrors the television is always bringing you. I think this extremely brief few paragraphs give the book just the tiniest bit of depth and seriousness that it needs.
Because the opposite of fascism isn’t anarchy, it’s theater. When the world is fucked, you go to the theater, you go to the shine, and when the bad men come, all there is left to do is sing them down.
A book whose climactic moment is singing your tragedies and heartbreak so hard that you and your entire species are finally seen and saved is probably not going to have a nuanced view on this, but it's interesting how much my feelings on whether art will save us have changed over time. It's hard not to think of the classic Vonnegut quote about the Vietnam war here.
Also tangentially, I was just watching this Verity Ritchie video about bisexual chic in the 2000's (youtube link, sorry) which intersects with the aesthetics and vibe of this novel quite a bit. The band members in Space Opera feel like they are copying the aesthetics and bisexual glam of the 70's while on stage but then being staid heterosexual monogamous Englishblokemen behind the scenes, much like a number of emo bands that this video discusses. Bringing this back around to my original tangent, this video also makes the argument that it's more likely that society changes art than the other way around—they point out that Will and Grace got released right as US opinion polls shifted to the majority being supportive of homosexuality, and talk about different times where it's been more or less popular for celebrities and musicians to engage in bisexual chic.
At any rate, this is all to say that I quite disagree with this book's position that the opposite of fascism is theater. Art and music can certainly be one tactic in our arsenal, like unicorn and frog mascots at a protest. This isn't to say that art isn't necessary or important! I just don't think it's going to save us, and we're certainly not going to defeat fascism by going to the theater.
I would do just about anything to make a Christmas carol stop.
Everything could be divided into angerchords, sadchords, and happychords, and anyone worth their liner notes knew you only reached for more than one or two happychords in a genuine fiscal emergency.
Nico and Siouxsie Calișkan’s enormous four-year-old Maine Coon–Angora-somebody’s-barn-cat-possibly-a-stray-albino-panther mix was entirely unbothered by suddenly achieving the ability to speak rather posh English. Oh, certainly it had been alarming at first. But adjusting to sudden changes in your circumstances was easy when you didn’t really care about anything. As far as she was concerned, she’d always talked. By some miracle, everyone else had recently achieved the ability to listen properly.
But in a clinch, you lot would rather watch someone suffer untold horrors than watch them enjoy so much as a cool drink if you don’t have two of your own, and yours have cherries in them as well as more ice and little paper umbrellas, and even then most of you would still prefer to take theirs and have three. This is not the behavior of a sentient race.
Once upon a time on a small, watery, excitable planet called Earth, in a small, watery country called England (which was bound and determined never to get too excited about anything), a leggy psychedelic ambidextrous omnisexual gendersplat glitterpunk financially punch-drunk ethnically ambitious glamrock messiah by the name of Danesh Jalo was born to a family so large and benignly neglectful that they only noticed he’d stopped coming home on weekends when his grandmother was nearly run over with all her groceries in front of the Piccadilly Square tube station, stunned into slack-jawed immobility by the sight of her Danesh, twenty feet high, in a frock the color of her customary afternoon sip of Pernod, filling up every centimeter of a gargantuan billboard.
Your job is not to know what it once was or what it will become. Your job is to simply enjoy it.
This book opened by describing itself as a circular tale, and as promised it truly did meander through various layers of stories to get back where it started. In some ways this reminded me of the Orphan's Tales books by Catherynne Valente, in its use of nested layers of stories that all interconnect a bit to tell something bigger in the whole. But Orphan's Tales is quite explicitly a story about stories, and here... I'm unable to quite put my finger on what this book is doing. It's definitely a story about sisterhood. It's a story about the grief of inevitable separation and change. It's a story about memory and creation.
I did enjoy this book, and especially enjoyed the stories of Magali and …
Your job is not to know what it once was or what it will become. Your job is to simply enjoy it.
This book opened by describing itself as a circular tale, and as promised it truly did meander through various layers of stories to get back where it started. In some ways this reminded me of the Orphan's Tales books by Catherynne Valente, in its use of nested layers of stories that all interconnect a bit to tell something bigger in the whole. But Orphan's Tales is quite explicitly a story about stories, and here... I'm unable to quite put my finger on what this book is doing. It's definitely a story about sisterhood. It's a story about the grief of inevitable separation and change. It's a story about memory and creation.
I did enjoy this book, and especially enjoyed the stories of Magali and Wisa. I was amused the academic interludes. I liked the weird worldbuilding: magic space whales, "sailing" through the black sea of the universe of island planets, a portal that only children can go through. But overall I also don't feel like any of these elements quite cohered for me (even as I also wonder how much that's just on me as a reader).
This was our book for the September 2026 #SFFBookClub.
Once a craftsman offered six times to enchant the drawings for him so they would never decay. Kua refused. Things must end, his mother used to say. Even memories. Only then can they become something new.
I've not been making enough time for reading lately, but I have been enjoying this book a lot as I slowly make my way through it. #SFFBookClub
I've not been making enough time for reading lately, but I have been enjoying this book a lot as I slowly make my way through it. #SFFBookClub
#SFFBookClub book from a few months ago. I read this quickly and enjoyed it, but it also felt very thin. The overall arc seemed sort of formulaic, and it just never got me caring enough about its world or characters for the ending to make me feel very much.
#SFFBookClub book from a few months ago. I read this quickly and enjoyed it, but it also felt very thin. The overall arc seemed sort of formulaic, and it just never got me caring enough about its world or characters for the ending to make me feel very much.
A messy but enjoyable book about robots, grief, and memory set in a post-war unified Korea.
The plot, pacing, and characters meandered a bit too much for my taste, but it was made up for by the texture in the world and its threads of philosophy. I do also love a story that is engaging with both disability and transness through the lens of robots and robotics.
The robot understands that how we love isn’t divine. It is meager, selfish, exquisitely cruel. Think of any time a war erupts—who among us would not sacrifice the lives of many to save the one person we love?
— Luminous by Silvia Park