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It's a little warm in Jack's apartment tonight and that's affecting my sleep. To be precise, it's preventing it. Normally I sleep quite well here, though, so I'll probably make up for it before too long. While I wait for tiredness to catch up to me, I'd like to share a quote from the book I'm reading:

Vespasian's banquets were extremely old-fashioned; the waitresses kept their clothes on and he never poisoned the food.


Some scant days before leaving for WisCon, I chanced to have a conversation with someone on the subject of the catoblepas. This led me to a Wikipedia trawl, which led me to discover the existence of the Marcus Didius Falco Mysteries series by Lindsey Davis. Falco is a Roman "private informer" in the first century A.D.... the series is a pseudohistorical mash-up of Romany Tiems and hardboiled detective fiction.

Historically-minded or sharp-eyed MU readers might notice that I have something of a weakness for Roman politics, so of course I was interested in this... but as funds were kind of tight with the trip coming up, I did nothing more than check to make sure they were available for the Kindle.

Then, shortly after arriving in Hagerstown, I found the first book in the series sitting on the bookcase. It seems that Sarah also recently stumbled across the series in a more physical fashion. So I've been reading The Silver Pigs, in fits and starts, and finding that it's pretty much everything I hoped for.

When I say it's "pseudohistorical", I don't mean it's an alternate history in the sense that phrase is usually employed... there's no time traveling Hitler and nary a zeppelin or dinosaur in sight. There are no fantasy elements to speak of, little in the way of deliberate and obvious anachronism (a better historian than myself might be outraged at the mention of this legion or that being stationed in the wrong place at the wrong time, but one somewhat jarring reference to a Daily Gazette so far is the only thing that's jumped out at me), no Flintstone telephones or other devices.

It's more like a historical novel with a modern overlay. The details of what would otherwise be a straightforward historical novel are translated for us somewhat into the milieu of the detective novel.

The protagonist Falco is an inveterate republican, a word that harbors an altogether different meaning in Ancient Romany Tiems than it does in the modern day United States and one that's almost guaranteed to earn my sympathy for a protagonist. While he's liberal and worldly in comparison to many of the upper-crust individuals he works for/with/against, his typical gumshoe narrative is skillfully blended with period-appropriate attitudes about women and other topics. It's actually a surprisingly nice touch, and one that helps connect Falco with the noir heroes who came before (after) him. It's really an interesting study in how sexism transforms itself with the times. If typically sexist noir tropes are a dealbreaker for you, I don't recommend this book at all, but if you can deal with them as part of the package then you can probably handle the man's world of Marcus Didius Falco.

(I have a suspicion his attitude will be seen to evolve as the series goes on, but that warning is in full effect for the first book at least.)

I'm about halfway through the book and apart from its direct entertainment value, it's providing some interesting fodder for the MUniverse's political plotlines. My reading of this book (and very likely its sequels) is going to help shape the story of Malbus, which is a good thing... my attempts at writing it so far have been a little over-weighted with Sir Terry Pratchett's influence. Having another source of inspiration to leaven that will make the debt less glaring, I think.
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Just a couple of weeks ago we had snow on the ground. Now it's officially too hot to sleep in my room. I'd hoped to be able to wait until summer proper to get the window AC set up, but I can already tell that's not going to be the case. I'm hanging out downstairs now while I wait for the temperature to come down a bit up there.

Last year we had the window unit set up in the stairwell between the third floor (my room) and the second floor, because a poorly ventilated bedroom on the second floor was also occupied. Unfortunately the stairwell window is blocked by the stairs, and since cold air doesn't rise the bulk of it ended up in the space underneath it. It made the windowsill conveniently frosty... I kept bottles of soda there so I didn't have to go very far for a cool drink, but it didn't have much affect on my sleeping space.

This year the spare bedroom really is spare, so I'm hopeful that I'll be able to get my bedroom down to a tolerable temperature and keep it there.

In the meantime, I've just finished reading Claire Cooney's Jack o' the Hills (publisher link, Kindle link). I've seen reviews calling it "dark fantasy". Now, "dark fantasy" often means there's a vampire or werewolf or other monster boy or girl who is very pretty and who feels deeply morally conflicted about all the sex he or she has. That's not the case here. This is a story about monstrous folk doing monstrous things for monstrous reasons. And it is wondrous.

Basically, Jack o' the Hills is a lush retelling of a classic and much loved fairytale that Ms. Cooney made up. Really, reading it, one would swear that it's but the middle story of a much larger Jack Yap cycle which one has heard (likely debased and Bowdlerized) pieces of all of one's life. The whole thing has a very Holly Golightly style of authenticity about it: sure it's a phony, but it's a real phony.

Now, I'm sure that I've seen mention of this book before tonight, but I'll be honest: my flists are full of authors and everyone's always talking about their projects. A lot of it goes right past or through me. What attracted my eye to this was a discussion on her Livejournal about the importance of audience. An acquaintance of the author presented a copy of the book to her mother, thinking she would enjoy it on the basis of "This is a good book."

This proved not to be the case.

I don't mean it's not the case that it's a good book. I mean the acquaintance's mother didn't enjoy this good book very much at all. Why not? Because it wasn't written for her.

Now, this is something I've written about before. I don't believe there are any objective measurements of quality, and if there are, I don't think it matters, because if the best book in the world by this metric were less interesting to you than one that is technically crap you'd still prefer the crap one. As an example: I have now read two of C.S.E. Cooney's novellas. This one speaks more directly to my interests, but I thought The Big Bah-Ha is the superior story of the two. So which one's better? Which one is a better story for me? I really don't know... my brain's not exactly wired for favorites.

You could maybe take similar books that interest you and rate them in terms of quality, but that list would only be useful to anyone else to the extent that their tastes match yours.

"Know your audience" is advice given to writers, but it's only sort of intermittently useful. How often are we presented with a specific audience to suit a story to? It does happen, but in this day and age, it also happens that we write stories and books and send them out into the world for people to read or not as they see fit. If one took a story like Jack o' the Hills and got the entire English-language-story-reading audience to read and rate it, I don't like to think how it would fare. Stories about brutally wicked and wickedly brutal puckish boys who stomp and shake things (and people) to death with nary a moral lesson or hint of comeuppance in sight don't tend to be crowd-pleasers, unless the crowd is self-selecting... that's why books like this tend to be bought largely on the strength of direct recommendations and prior familiarity with the author.

So, this is not a categorical recommendation. This is a very nuanced recommendation. If reading about wicked things behaving wickedly (and I don't mean "tee hee naughtily", I mean wickedly) doesn't appeal to you, don't buy this book... you'll only end up complaining to me for recommending it or the author for writing it or the publisher for publishing it. If you like your Grimm a little grim and you don't mind a little blood on your boots, though, then this should be an entertaining diversion.

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