Outgunned

Jan. 28th, 2026 11:47 pm
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[personal profile] james_davis_nicoll
RIP Agents Nevada and Alcala, whose reaction to a building-sized rooster was to empty their Mac 10s in its direction, thus ensuring it noticed them.

The player-characters, on the other hand, handled their immediate threat, a truck-sized centipede, more effectively.

Read more... )
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[personal profile] sovay
In the midst of this week, we are in a block of doctor's appointments, but following this afternoon's I climbed up to the railings behind the Salem Street Burying Ground and hung over them with my camera, an operation which still put me in snow to mid-calf. Its winter-drifted gravestones date from the late seventeenth through the late nineteenth centuries, with one modern interpolation for the unmarked, enslaved dead. I should go back for their slate-carved winged skulls in spring.



The current sunset is one of those violet riots, but at the time of this photo, the clouds above the fan of trees were just starting to flush gilt-grey. That attenuated stretch of the Mystic that always looks more like an industrial canal than a river was a glaucous freeze at its margins and flat-skimmed snow down its center. I cannot believe I never encountered Socalled's Ghettoblaster (2006) until its twentieth anniversary. Then again, only forty years after the fact did it occur to me that I would have accepted The Last Battle (1956) much more readily if Lewis had made it Ragnarök instead of Revelations.
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[personal profile] penaltywaltz posting in [community profile] wipbigbang
Just a friendly reminder that you can start posting fic updates to the platform of your choice for the mini bang in three days if you want to space out multi chapter fics! Posting to the Tumblr and Dreamwidth accounts will start on International Fanworks Day, which is February 15th.

AO3 collection will be created and posted January 31st.

Wednesday Reading Meme

Jan. 28th, 2026 10:05 am
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[personal profile] osprey_archer
What I Just Finished Reading

Kate Seredy’s The Open Gate. Driving toward their destination for summer vacation, a New York City family pauses at a farm auction. No one is bidding on the farmland itself, so Granny cunningly suggests to Dad, “Why don’t you bid? Just to get things started?”

“DON’T YOU DO IT, BOY!” I shouted, but as so often happens, the characters ignored my wise advice.

Of course Dad wins the farm. Of course, the family has to stay the night, and having stayed one night, they have to keep on staying. And then Granny goes to another farm auction, promising piously not to open her mouth to bid–

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO OPEN YOUR MOUTH TO BID AT AN AUCTION!” I shouted at Dad, who once again foolishly failed to listen to me. He accepted Granny’s promise, and Granny promptly rules-lawyered the farm into two cows (both pregnant) and two horses (also both pregnant) by bidding with a twitch of the hand.

I am all for people going back to the land if they want to, but I prefer stories about it to feature people who actually want to, rather than people who get bamboozled into it by Granny.

Multiple people have recommended Uketsu’s Strange Houses (translated by Jim Rion), and it did NOT disappoint. The book is a mystery based around floor plans, and I am happy to report that there are indeed MANY floor plans (I love a floor plan), which makes the book an even zippier read than you might guess from its size.

Now, do I think the mystery is “plausible” or “makes psychological sense”? Well, no, not really, and if it took longer to read that might have bothered me. But the floor plans and the pacing make the book fly by, and I enjoyed it for what it was, which is an amusingly bizarre puzzle box mystery with, let me repeat, enough floor plans to satisfy even my floor-plan-mad self.

What I’m Reading Now

After years of procrastination, I’ve begun Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose. Happy to report that this ALSO features a floorplan in the endpapers. All the rooms are lettered, but curiously the key only includes some of the letters, so we are left guessing just which room Q might be.

What I Plan to Read Next

Obviously I need to read Uketsu’s Strange Pictures, too.
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[personal profile] james_davis_nicoll


What dark motive leads a successful teen comedian who has vowed never to date anyone less funny than her to help an unfunny but otherwise personable young man work on his comedic skills?

Someone Hertz, volume 1 by Ei Yamano (Translated by David Evely)

Choices (24)

Jan. 28th, 2026 08:34 am
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[personal profile] the_comfortable_courtesan
Romantic devotion was all very pretty

It was very agreeable to have her brothers and sisters come visit, and rehearse for Mama’s birthday – would always have been so, but Zipsie did find most particularly as had been finding it a little lonely of late. Cecil down at Wepperell Larches, though shortly to return – Thea very likely suffering the torments of martyrdom at Pockinford Hall, even was Horrid Simon now on the high seas, or would he be already traversing the isthmus? – and Cretia Grigson frolicking off to Hampshire with Janey Merrett. One could quite envy her – Janey and her mother such entire connoisseurs of music – their talents considerable –

And she did not even have the Misses McKeown and Lewis come visit for instruction and gossip! For some kind benefactor that wished to remain anonymous, though Zipsie suspected 'twas Meg Knowles, had very kindly sent 'em for a few weeks to the seaside at Weymouth to recruit their health.

So while it might as a general thing, she felt, be extremely pleasant not to be constantly overwhelmed by Parry-Lloyds, it was most exceeding companionable to have 'em for an afternoon or so at a time.

There was Brump, conveying all sorts of messages from Rettie about what she had found helpful when she was in a like condition to Zipsie, very kind indeed. And Ollie and Folly and Georgie, that had not previously made any great note of it, exclaiming upon her music-room and fine piano-forte, and when were the Rondegates going to give their own music parties?

Zipsie snorted and said, let 'em wait until something like Society was returned to Town!

Lotty and Gianna complaining that Cecil was not there –

La, my dear little piglets, he may not be here with a pocketful of sweetmeats for you, but there will be a very fine tea!

She had been in some concern about how the rehearsal would go, being the first time that Ollie had been present to sing his part, but it seemed that he had, at least, been practising while he was in Heggleton and not entirely wasting his substance in riotous living.

It was a slight enough thing – a Chicken Cantata, inspired by Lady Samuels’ fine works on poultry – but she fancied she had made some telling effects – the girls’ Cluck-Cluck-Cheep-Cheep duet – the trio of roosters trying to outdo one another in crowing – the chorus of fox in the henhouse! fox in the henhouse! And that Mama would like it.

Brump murmured in her ear, as the rehearsal was over and she urged them into the drawing-room for tea, that he hoped she was not overdoing, and she assured him that she was spending a deal of her time with her feet up, and taking gentle walks in the square gardens. He grinned, remarking that Mama had urged him to this concern, but he did not remember her being one of those ladies that collapses upon a sopha?

Nor do I, Zipsie agreed.

She had desired a lavish tea to be laid on, to sustain 'em after their efforts, and had had the cook establish diplomatic relations with Miriam in the Grigsons’ kitchen to obtain her receipt for unparalleled lemon cake to it.

This went over very well! There was quite enough that even Georgie had to concede that he could not manage another bite. There were even enough in the way of remains that they might be parcelled up as a treat for little Danvie, that was still not quite old enough or brought on sufficiently to take part in these birthday performances but showed promise of a very fine treble.

Not a great deal of family news – Papa in hopes that there might be somewhat in the way of cricket at Hembleby Hall once all this election to-do was over – Auntie Dodo and Uncle Casimir gone to Scarborough, Doctor Ferraby considers it very sanitive –

Brump began to persuade the younger ones that 'twas entirely time for 'em to be going home, to a deal of groaning – but we want to explore the gardens! – and finally achieved getting all but Ollie out of the house.

Zipsie, after suitable farewell kisses and embraces, flopped down upon the sopha. La, I daresay 'tis my condition makes me find 'em so tiring

Ollie gave her a small grin and said, might also be that she was no longer used to 'em? Found that, a little, just after these few weeks at Heggleton –

Zipsie looked at him. I suppose, she said, that you linger somewhat deliberate

Ollie sighed. Do you hear from Thea? – how is she?

Zipsie raised her eyebrows. Fie, was you not making suit to an actress in Heggleton? Thought you had found some new lady for your heart –

Ollie plumped down into an easy chair. A flirtation I will confess to – had to conduct myself so very careful and proper among the young women of Heggleton society –

Zipsie’s notorious honking laugh burst forth. Oh, indeed, one must quite imagine! A most desirable swain.

– Miss Dalrymple a very charming young woman and dedicated to her profession and furthermore an old acquaintance – you remember the Richardsons? That came to the Raxdell House parties?

She remembered the Raxdell House parties – so much less stuffy than so many of the others they had been obliged to attend – such much more interesting company – why, 'twas there she had first met Lydy Marshall! –

Oh indeed, Mama and Auntie Dodo have been making a fuss. Has she not sermonized you yet?

I have that happy anticipation! Ollie groaned. But, what of Thea?

Zipsie sighed. Has been down at Pockinford Hall this age and one supposes Dumpling Dora keeps a sharp eye upon her correspondence to ensure that she is not writing to Sister Linnet or the Reverend Professor Pusey &C, that must put a constraint upon her pen – it puts a considerable constraint upon mine when I think of writing to her.

She wondered, looking at Ollie – that favoured the Parry-Lloyd side of the family, one did not wonder that he had been somewhat of a cynosure amongst the young ladies of Heggleton – whether, for all this yearning, he was like to make Thea happy? Now she was a married woman, she saw that romantic devotion was all very pretty, but a comfortable friendship was a deal more answerable for working days.

Mayhap she would think differently did she not have her music?

At length Ollie departed, after further expatiation upon Thea’s merits and his fears that the Pockinfords designed a match to some Evangelical lord of suitable station. He was by no means confident that that pietistic scoundrel Fendersham would not renew his suit, for one heard that, even was bigamy proved upon O’Neill, the Wauderkell was contemplating taking the veil

Zipsie snorted. 'Tis rather too like one of her tales – a lady that has been sorely deceived by some plausible wretch – goes seek the consolations of religion – but then some antient deserving suitor returns from the wars, or prospecting for gold or some such and she observes the worth of a true heart

Ollie made sounds indicative of nausea.

Quite so. One hears that there is some Irish cousin in Town, with news of some former suitor in Cork, a widower that does not forget

Fie, Zipsie, mayhap you should go compose operas?

Well, one may see possibilities! – but I do not think that Thea will consider that obeying the Fifth Commandment would lead her as far as marrying Fendersham because her father desired it.

It was agreeable to be alone once more and to recline upon the sopha in her small parlour idly scanning the pages of The Ladies’ What-Not.

She had half-drifted into a doze when the door opened and came in her husband. She started up. Cecil! I was not in any anticipation you might arrive the e’en – or only very late. Is Mr Davison with you?

He came over, took her hands and kissed her. Sallington offered him the hospitality of Mulcaster House – he was in some mind to go straight to Oxford but that is such a tiresome journey on top of all the traveling we have already done –

Why, do you send him a note to invite him to breakfast – no, I daresay luncheon would be better – am still a little qualmish of a morn –

Cecil looked down at her. Really, Zipsie?

She looked up at him. I have been working on the ghazals, and am all eagerness to discuss 'em with him.

He sat down beside her. That is above and beyond civility and kindness, he said, putting an arm around her.

Poo – I hope I may consider him a friend still –

He kissed her. I am pleased, he went on, to change the subject, that I find you in such blooming health – was in a little concern.

She grinned. Why, I am pleased that I look so – have had a somewhat exhausting day of rehearsing for Mama’s birthday cantata – o, we come on, especially now that Ollie has returned to Town – and talking of Mama, I feel I must forewarn you –

Forewarn me?

Zipsie smirked. Now that she has got me off her hands, and 'twill be some years before Lotty makes her debut, here is Mama takes a notion that 'tis her positive duty to give my cousins Edith and Amy a London Season or so.

I daresay I was introduced to 'em at the wedding but I fear I do not recollect –

They are Auntie Cissie’s girls – the Fairleigh-Merretts – by all reports have been quite devastating Herefordshire and the adjacent parts – very well-looking, Uncle Eddie is Nuttenford’s brother – oh, but you may not know the story, that is very pretty though some considered it quite the scandal –

Tell on!

Sir Charles Fairleigh had been devoted to Lady Nuttenford – that was married to the Earl that was eat by a bear in the Americas and an invalid – since boyhood, and when the news came of her widowhood, quite immediate went propose, so that he might take care of her. And since they have no offspring due to her state, made Eddie his heir. That had been a little wild, but sobered down, and married Auntie Cissie, and took to farming

Very pretty! He kissed her again, and remarked that he should go put himself a little more in order before they went to dine.

But Mama’s hope is, that do we hold music-parties, 'twill offer opportunity for 'em to display their talents for singing, that are considerable.

Why, one can have no objection at all – quite a done thing.

How very amiable a spouse was Cecil.


So, in my Outgunned

Jan. 27th, 2026 10:26 pm
james_davis_nicoll: (Default)
[personal profile] james_davis_nicoll
I think the schtick is the crew gets sent out to investigate potentially revolutionary tech and it's always legitimately amazing but also not what they're expecting. Case in point, they were looking into a supposed teleporter and now everyone is ant-sized.

Among my other ideas

Read more... )
rachelmanija: (Default)
[personal profile] rachelmanija


The sequel to The Darkness Outside of Us. I enjoyed it! It's both interestingly different from the first book and is satisfying on the level of "I want more of this," which is exactly what one wants from a sequel.

Literally everything about this book is massively spoilery for the first one, including its premise. I'll do two sets of spoiler cuts, one for the premise and one for the whole book.

Premise spoilers )

Stop reading here if you don't want to be spoiled for the entire book.


Entire book spoilers )

Return of the Newbery Project

Jan. 27th, 2026 09:26 am
osprey_archer: (books)
[personal profile] osprey_archer
The Newbery Project is BACK, baby! Yesterday, the American Library Association announced the 2026 Newbery winners, which means I’ve got five hot fresh Newbery books to read.

After winning a Newbery Honor in 2018 for Piecing Me Together, Renee Watson went for gold this year with All the Blues in the Sky. I quite liked Piecing Me Together, so I’m hopeful I’ll enjoy this new one as well.

Daniel Nayeri is also a familiar Newbery name: he got an honor in 2024 for The Many Assassinations of Samir, the Seller of Dreams, which I thought was pretty mediocre to be honest. But perhaps I’ll be more impressed by The Teacher of Nomad Land: A World War II Story.

Although this is Karina Yan Glaser’s first Newbery, I’m familiar with her Vanderbeekers series, which is a sort of modern-day version of the Melendys. I read the first book and thought it was okay, but not so okay that I wanted to read on… so we’ll see how I feel about The Nine Moons of Han Yu and Luli.

Finally, two books by new-to-me authors: Aubrey Hartman’s The Undead Fox of Deadwood Forest, and María Dolores Águila’s A Sea of Lemon Trees: The Corrido of Roberto Alvarez. The title of the first is giving me flashbacks to Scary Stories for Young Foxes, which was perhaps the Newbery’s first foray into horror. Fox horror possibly its own genre now? Will report back as I learn more.
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[personal profile] james_davis_nicoll


Having successfully fled her home city with the proceeds of a spectacular heist, Aiah must now build a new life on that foundation.

City on Fire (Metropolitan, volume 2) by Walter Jon Williams

Choices (23)

Jan. 27th, 2026 08:36 am
the_comfortable_courtesan: image of a fan c. 1810 (Default)
[personal profile] the_comfortable_courtesan
Felt he had an ally 

One could get very tired of being addressed as Lord Talshaw, thought Grinnie. But otherwise, it had been a very fine day – even though he had had a general impression that there had been endeavours to ensure that he did not engage in any particular private converse with Miss Wilson.

What a very admirable young woman she was! Had had some concerns himself about how he should convey a great parcel of exceeding delicious jams &C to Worblewood, but 'twas quite a bagatelle to her – send it by the railway, to the nearest station, to be held for collection – entirely a done thing. So they went into the showroom so that he might see what a very fine selection they now had, and why not send one of everything?

He had a melancholy feeling that while an Oxford college fellow that had shares in the enterprize might attain to come upon agreeable conversable terms with Miss Wilson, now he was Talshaw 'twas no longer considered an answerable thing. It was not as though he was anything like his late brother! that one had heard rumours of, concerning molesting maidservants &C. He sighed.

Did not have any great hopes of what he might encounter upon the Marriage Market.

Still, one observed couples that seemed happy enough – on amiable terms – few that were in as mutually doating a state as Jimsie and Myo, but here was Cretia seemed remarkably well satisfied in this match with Grigson.

As he entered the Belgravia mansion the footman said that Lord Iffling had called and left a note for Lord Talshaw.

Grinnie thanked him and went into the small Willow parlour to read it.

It so happened that Iffling was in Town – invited his brother-in-law to dine the following e’en – would send his carriage was this convenable –

Very civil!

He opened this invitation to Grigson over their quiet dinner – Cretia having gone on a visit to Knighton Hall, very gratifying, when one considered how very exacting Lady Jane was known to be – and Miss Jupp invited along with her, so that Lady Jane and she can read Greek together, 'tis quite the recreation for 'em – Cretia can ride with Mrs Geoffrey Merrett – some talk of lessons in acting from Miss Addington, the Merretts doat on amateur theatricals –

It was a set one could quite entirely like Cretia getting into!

Grigson looked considering and said, why, that answered very well, for he had to be at a City dinner the following e’en himself, and would have had to leave Grinnie solitary. Dared say Iffling purposed dining at one of his clubs, mayhap putting up his brother-in-law for membership –

So, here he was, and here was Iffling’s carriage very prompt upon the appointed hour, and he got in.

But contrary to his anticipation, it did not turn towards St James, but bore northwards, and 'twas a rather longer drive than he had expected.

Drew up at length outside a fine villa in St John’s Wood. Grinnie gulped. This was, he confided, where Iffling resided with his mistress, Marabelle Myrtle. Indeed he had met that lady, upon that occasion at Dumaine’s. But 'twas a little shocking to go dine in their establishment! even did he apprehend that Rina was exceeding fortunate that Iffling had decided to eschew the vulgar publicity of a crim.con. suit.

He was admitted by Iffling’s manservant acting the butler for the occasion, that took his outer garments and stick and ushered him into the parlour.

Miss Myrtle rose and curtseyed deeply, as Iffling came over to shake his hand, clap him upon the shoulder and remark that he was looking well.

One perchance did not, in such circumstance, enquire about health of wife and children, but surely could not be at all out of order to ask after the present state of the Duke of Werrell?

Iffling shook his head. Why, does not come about to improve – the quacks are very pessimistic in his case – but he does not seem to suffer – seems contented – I think it is beneficial to his spirits to keep him at Anclewer –

It showed well for Iffling that he did not go have his lunatic father confined in some crack private asylum, or at least in a distant house with some attendant, but let him live in familiar surroundings, with well-remunerated attendants to take care of him.

Miss Myrtle served 'em both with sherry – and excellent good sherry it was too.

Looks in an entire different style from Rina! very fetching – appeared considerable fond of Iffling – while one might have supposed that was what mistresses felt for the men that kept 'em, was it only for the mercenary matters of the fine jewels &C, having heard for so many years of the constant brangling 'twixt his father and the Delgado woman, Grinnie was pleased to see this positively domestic harmony.

And they were very well done by with the dinner – nothing in the least that one might criticize there – and at the end Miss Myrtle rose and said, would leave 'em with port and brandy and cigars and manly talk

Grinnie took a glass of port but declined a cigar. Once Iffling had lit his and taken a few puffs, said would not make hypocritical condolences over Grinnie’s late brother, had been a shocking detrimental fellow, had been a remarkable fortunate accident came to him.

He cast a meaningful look across the table.

Surely he could not mean – ?

Your father, said Iffling, is a remarkably ruthless fellow. I feel you should be warned. I was beguiled into marrying your sister when the intelligence of my father’s condition became known, and my stock on the Marriage Market plummeted, and at first I considered that a somewhat expensive favour. But then My Lord the Marquess disclosed that he had the token of a foolish prank I engaged in when younger that I should not wish disclosed, and was touching me for substantial sums to keep the matter close, until Sallington – quite the finest fellow – was able by some means to obtain the evidence so that I might dispose of it.

Grinnie leant back in his chair, expelling a breath in almost a whistle. Certain – oh, not even things Mr Grigson had explicitly said – certain sardonic expressions when mentioning their father – but one supposed that a chap that was experienced in dealing with a race that was quite a by-word for wilyness would be up to any tricks a British Marquess might play!

Daresay he holds the power of his purse-strings over you?

Well, said Grinnie, beginning to smile, he may try, but I fancy he is not apprized that my late godfather left me a tidy little competence, that affords me a certain independence

Iffling was surprized into a laugh. Why, Talshaw, you are quite the dark horse! I will lay odds that you are a deal less biddable than your sire supposes.

He has never taken the trouble to know me.

They looked at one another. Grinnie had already felt he had an ally in Grigson, but here was another that he had not in the least anticipated. And Iffling had an understanding of Society and its intricacies that Grigson was as yet still learning to navigate.

More port? – has he tried to set you up with a mistress yet?

Grinnie blushed deeply. Not yet, but there have been certain remarks

Iffling nodded. Are you looking for agreeable feminine companionship, I confide that Marabelle has acquaintances that would entirely suit and would not be in your father’s pay.

He gulped. And thought back to that evening at Dumaine’s, and that extremely amiable creature Babsie Bolton, that had sat very close to him, much to his embarrassment, but had been most discreetly helpful over matters of card-play. Indeed he had had thoughts of pursuing that acquaintance!

He mentioned this to Iffling, that whistled, and remarked that Babsie was considered quite the prime filly in Dumaine’s stable, and advized that they should consult Marabelle upon the matter.

Marabelle was discovered in the parlour reclining in a most becoming position upon the chaise-longue, idly perusing a collection of fashion-plates. She sprang up – Tea? Coffee? Mayhap a herbal tisane? Or more brandy?

Once the question of refreshments was settled, Iffling opened the question of Babsie Bolton’s favours.

Miss Myrtle frowned prettily. O, Babsie is an entire darling – naught in the least like that Delgado harridan – exceeding sweet-natured – but one hears that Dumaine has her favours as 'twere reserved

Grinnie and Iffling raised their eyebrows.

She blushed a little. 'Tis said that there are certain gentlemen that desire a very discreet gallop for the sake of their reputations –

Iffling guffawed and said, hah, the entire committee of the Vice Society, I will wager – half the bench of bishops –

– and that Babsie is silent as the grave. She pouted a little. Even among friends will say naught –

Iffling shrugged and said that he would speak to Dumaine.

Grinnie, feeling very warm, said that he was most obliged.

But he was not lingering in Town, so any assignation could not be an immediate prospect: that was, he must admit, something of a relief.

Here he was at the station for Worblewood – where he ascertained that the crate from Roberts and Wilson had been delivered, and collected, all very much in order – and took the station fly through the very pretty countryside thereabouts.

On a fine afternoon like this, he surmized that most of the company would be out digging, or spectating at the diggings, and was assured that this was indeed the case. Even Lady Trembourne, in her chair.

Well, one could be sure that a great deal of care would be taken not to jolt Myo at all – fresh air and sunshine must be entirely sanitive for her –

Tea in the Dutch parlour?

Excellent well, he thought, and went through to that most agreeable chamber, that indeed looked out in the direction towards the field in question, though it was obscured by hedges.

It was not empty – Lady Eleanor was seated close to the window, working at her lace-pillow. One could not but be reminded of some painting – really, one should become better acquainted with Sallington –

She looked up –

No, do not get up, said Grinnie. You are very industrious.

Why, she smiled a little, 'tis a pleasure. But I promised Aggie some lace for a fancy bazaar in their parish –

He knew that within the family there was a certain amount of sighing over Nora’s piety and reserve. But there was something very admirable about her – and one saw that she doated upon the Undersedge infants –

He persuaded her to put by her work and take some tea.

Fandom miscellany as January wanes

Jan. 26th, 2026 11:53 pm
mossy_bench: Hilda/White with her hands on her hips, blank-faced (confused)
[personal profile] mossy_bench
Here be updates on fannish goals and other ramblings. (●'◡'●) It just struck me that I wouldn't have had the wherewithal/courage to write and publish a post like this a year ago, so I'm pleased as a recovering lurker!

Fic talk
I finished a draft of my fic! The one I complained about it in my last post. It is currently a bit over 6k. One of my goals this month was to get it done, so that is fantastic. :) The quality is pretty acceptable. Only minor revisions left, I believe/hope. And then I can finally start on this other fic I promised to write for a friend! My other writing goal this month was to write a total of 7k words, which I haven't, but the milestone above matters more to me.

I've also been trying to read (and ergo comment) more on fic. I'm making progress on my bingo cards (see here for links), but haven't gotten a bingo yet. I feel like I could've read more. Still, some is better than none.

A great podcast, except...
I also finished listening to Midst (well, the first storyline anyway). It was great and I'm very satisfied, except. EXCEPT. I was let down by the episode where Weepe (scumbag extraordinare) has to watch his former business partner and beloved friend expire because of his actions. I was so excited to see him go to pieces, and to wallow in his unrequited worship for this woman who represents everything he believes he can't be.

Unfortunately, the actual episode felt rather stilted, sluggish, and forced, in my humble subjective opinion. So close, but not quite there. I hope there is good fic, though it is a tiny fandom. It's like, the one itch that feels terribly unscratched.

Where is the toxic fic? (cw: talk of dubcon)
I did fulfill my goal of reading some Beyond Evil fic on AO3. I'm afraid there were slim pickings since I seem to want something different from most others in the fandom. The main ship has so much toxic potential but the fics are kind of wholesome—often in a believable way, to be clear. I'm not criticizing their quality.

However, I just want for Juwon and Dongshik to regress and be terrible in new and interesting ways. I want hate sex, breakdowns, toxic vows, insane bids for attention, unhealthy repression and self-denial, dubcon fucking, a mix of dread and attraction, desperate misplaced efforts at atonement. They're both WEIRD and they should fuck weird. The disappointment I felt when I filtered for Dubious Content and only found 22 complete works was immeasurable, haha. And of those, only a handful actually applied to the ship.

Still on my Hello From the Magic Tavern bullshit
Loved the most recent episode. The premise? Immaculate. The hosts are basically reenacting Orpheus and Eurydice as they try to escape (pizza) hell, except they've got 3+ escapees holding onto a rope behind them like toddlers, and one of the most annoying recurring characters from the show keeps trying to tempt them into turning around to look at something cool. They nearly got defeated by a revolving door. It was great.

(no subject)

Jan. 26th, 2026 10:41 pm
skygiants: a figure in white and a figure in red stand in a courtyard in front of a looming cathedral (cour des miracles)
[personal profile] skygiants
Like several other people on my reading list, including [personal profile] osprey_archer (post here) and [personal profile] troisoiseaux (post here, I was compelled by the premise of I Leap Over the Wall: A Return to the World After 28 Years In A Convent, a once-bestselling (but now long out-of-print) memoir by a British woman who entered a cloister in 1914, lived ten years as a nun, decided it wasn't for her, lived another almost twenty years as a nun out of stubbornness, and exited in 1941, having missed quite a lot of sociological developments in the interim! including talking films! and underwire bras! and not one, but two World Wars!

Obviously Baldwin did not know that WWI was about to happen right as she went into a convent, but she does explain that she came out in the middle of WWII more or less on purpose, out of an idea that it would be easier to slide herself back into things when everything was chaotic and unprecedented anyway than to try to establish a life for herself as The Weird Ex Nun in more normal times. Unclear how well this strategy paid off for her, but you can't say she didn't give it an effort. Baldwin was raised extremely upper-class -- she was related to former Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin, among others -- but exited the convent pretty much penniless, so while she did have a safety net in terms of various sets of variously judgmental relations who were willing to put her up, she spends a lot of the book valiantly attempting to take her place among the workers of the world. And these are real labor jobs, too -- 'ex-nun' is not a resume booster, and most of the things she felt actually qualified to do for a living based on her convent experience (librarianship, scholarship, etc) required some form of degree, so much of the work she does in this book are things like being a land girl, or working in a canteen. She doesn't enjoy these jobs, and she rarely does them long, but you have to respect her for giving it the old college try, especially when she's constantly in a state of profound and sustained culture shock.

Overall, Baldwin does not enjoy the changes to the world since she left it. She does not enjoy having gone in a beautiful young girl with her life ahead of her, and come out a middle-aged woman who's missed all the milestones that everyone around her takes for granted. She does, however, profoundly enjoy her freedom, and soon begins to cherish an all-consuming dream of purchasing a Small House of her Very Own where she can do whatever the hell she wants whenever the hell she wants. After decades in a convent, you can hardly blame her for this. On the other hand -- fascinatingly, to me -- it's very clear that Baldwin still somewhat idealizes convent life, despite the fact that it obviously made her deeply miserable. She has long conversations with her judgmental relatives, and long conversations with us, the reader, in which she tries to convince them/us of the real virtues of the cloister; of the spiritual value of deep, deliberate, constant self-sacrifice and self-abegnation; of the fact that it's important, vital and necessary that some people close themselves away from work in the world to focus on the exclusive pursuit of God. It is good that people do this, it's spiritual and heroic, it's simply -- unfortunately -- the only case in which she's ever known the church to be wrong in assessing who does or does not have a genuine vocation after the novice period -- not for her.

Baldwin is a fascinating and contradictory person and I enjoyed spending time with her quite a bit. I suspect she wouldn't much enjoy spending time with me; she will keep going to London and observing neutrally that it seems the streets are much more full of Jews than they were before she went into the convent, faint shudder implied. At another point she confesses that although she'd left the convent with 'definite socialist tendencies,' actually working among the working people has changed her mind for the worse: 'the people' now impressed me as full of class prejudice and an almost vindictive envy-hatred-malice fixation towards anyone who was richer, cleverer, or in any way superior to themselves. Still, despite her preoccupations and prejudices, her voice is interesting, and deeply eccentric, and IMO she's worth getting to know. This is a woman, an ex-nun, who takes Le Morte D'Arthur as her beacon of hope and guide to life. Le Morte! You really can't agree with it, but how can you not be compelled?

The wind is blowing the planes around

Jan. 26th, 2026 06:48 pm
sovay: (Rotwang)
[personal profile] sovay
Mailing our census form back to the city turned out to be slightly more of a Shackletonian trek than I had prepared for, not because I had failed to notice the maze of sidewalks and driveways tunneled out of the snow-walls on our street or the thick-flocked snowfall that had restarted around sunset, but because I had expected some neighbor to have snowblown or at least shoveled the block with the post box on it. It stood amid magnificent, inviolate drifts. I waded. At 18 °F and wind chill, my hands effectively quit on me within five minutes, but even between their numbness and my camera's increasing preference not to, I did manage to take a couple of pictures I liked.

Laughter doesn't always mean. )

JSTOR showcased Laura Secord with the result that I had to listen, thanks these aeons ago to [personal profile] ladymondegreen, to Tanglefoot.

It is a sign of how badly the last three years in particular have accordioned into one another that my reaction to discovering last year's new album from Brivele was the pleased surprise that it followed so soon on their latest EP. I am intrigued that they cover the Young'uns' "Cable Street" (2017), which has for obvious reasons been on my mind.

I can find no further details on the secretary from the North Midlands who appears in the second half of this clip from This Week: Lesbians (1965), but if there was any justice in the universe the studio should have been besieged with letters from interested women, because in explaining the problems of dating, she's a complete delight. "Well, that's the difficulty. In a way, it means that I have to keep making friends with people because I can't find out unless I make friends with them and then if they are lesbian, there's hope for me, but even then there isn't hope unless they happen to take to me!"

Link and creativity/art update

Jan. 27th, 2026 11:54 am
china_shop: A beautiful warm curlicued cartoon heart in pinks and reds and yellows (heart - warm)
[personal profile] china_shop
Ughhhhhh! *hugs to everyone, all of you, so many hugs and then some more*

For those who need it, [personal profile] troyswann linked to her art-blog post Gardening in the Rubble, about continuing normal life while the world is on fire.

*

Lately, I've been having trouble focusing on written words, so the fic edits are going verrrrry sloooowly. I don't think these are going to count as late [community profile] fandomtrees gifts anymore, but I'd still like to finish them!

I've also been continuing to mess around with art. Current status, for future reference. ) In conclusion: noses are the worst, followed by lips, followed by eyes. Ears are also terrible.

Aaand now my right wrist/base of my thumb is furious at me, owww, because of course I chose a new hobby that involved a ton of detailed/controlled handwork. Should've taken up singing instead. *poutsigh*
james_davis_nicoll: (Default)
[personal profile] james_davis_nicoll


Third-party tabletop fantasy roleplaying sourcebooks and adventures for The Arcane Library's old-school FRPG, Shadowdark.

Bundle of Holding: Shadowdark Compatible

A Passage to India by E. M. Forster

Jan. 26th, 2026 04:40 pm
regshoe: Redwing, a brown bird with a red wing patch, perched in a tree (Default)
[personal profile] regshoe
I've just been checking my reading log, which confirms that I read five of E. M. Forster's six novels for the first time over the course of 2015*; I never got round to the sixth, I think partly because I just didn't want it to be over!, and also partly because I thought I would probably find the subject matter unappealing. In that I was right, but it is a very good book, and of course I'm glad I've read it.

Read more... )

*Complete Forster-reading stats to date:
A Room with a View: read twice, first in ~February 2015
Howards End: read four times, first in ~March 2015
The Longest Journey: read five times, first in ~March 2015
Where Angels Fear to Tread: read twice, first in ~June 2015
Maurice: read twice, first in ~October 2015
The Machine Stops: read once, ~January 2016
The Obelisk and Other Stories: read once, ~March 2016
Arctic Summer and Other Fiction: read once, June-September 2025
A Passage to India: read once, January 2026

Revisiting My 2017 Reading List

Jan. 26th, 2026 09:55 am
osprey_archer: (books)
[personal profile] osprey_archer
Still trotting away on my 2015 book log list (only Project Hail Mary holding me back now!), but I wrapped up 2016 so I decided it was time to post the author list for 2017.

Barbara Cooney - Only Opal (a picture book about Opal Whiteley, one of my minor obsessions)

Jane Langton - Her Majesty Grace Jones

Gary Paulsen - The Cookcamp

E. M. Delafield - I’ll finally continue the Provincial Lady books, unless someone has another recommendation

Chris Van Allsburg - A Kingdom Far and Clear (illustrated by Allsburg rather than written by him, but it’s a Swan Lake retelling so I’ve been meaning to take a crack at it)

E. F. Benson - I’m going to give the Mapp and Lucia novels a go! Should I start at the beginning (Queen Lucia) or is this one of those series where order doesn’t matter, in which case where should I start?

Carol Ryrie Brink - I’ve read all the more easily available ones at this point. Tempted by Four Girls on a Homestead or Strangers in the Forest just for their titles.

C. S. Lewis - I’ve read all the famous ones, I think. Leaning toward The Discarded Image: An Introduction to Medieval and Renaissance Literature right now.

E. Nesbit - The Phoenix and the Carpet

Kate Seredy - The Open Gate

Emily Arnold McCully - Starring Mirette and Bellini (I realize I didn’t post about this one. An inferior sequel to Mirette on the High Wire.)

Julia L. Sauer - Mike’s House

Ngaio Marsh - Singing in the Shrouds

Sarah Pennypacker - Pax (I’ve wanted to read this for YEARS based purely on the Jon Klassen cover. Hopefully the book lives up to it.)

Daphne Du Maurier - I’m thinking it’s going to be The House on the Strand, but open to persuasion if you have words in favor of The Scapegoat, Frenchman’s Creek, or The King’s General.

William Dean Howells

Randa Abdel-Fattah - Does My Head Look Big in This?

Edward Eager - Red Head Another one I didn’t review. A rhyming picture book about a red-headed boy who runs away from home because he’s so cross about being called Red all the time, but he learns to appreciate his red hair when it lights his way home. Illustrated by Louis Slobodkin. Slight. Not up there with Mouse Manor.
sovay: (Haruspex: Autumn War)
[personal profile] sovay
The snow has built a slice of six or eight inches against the glass of my office window, like the honeycomb of an observation hive. Out in the street it looks twice that height not counting the drifts which have crusted where the sidewalks used to be and swamped at least one car and its forlorn antennae of windshield wipers. I would have enjoyed more of the snowglobe of the day without the return of the phantom detergent which [personal profile] spatch could smell even through the storm as soon as he turned up North Street, but I took a picture early on in the snowfall. None of the needles are visible any more.



I can't believe no one has ever written a crossover between Mavis Doriel Hay's Death on the Cherwell (1935) and Dorothy L. Sayers' Gaudy Night (1935). It must have been unspeakably awkward for Oxford to suffer two unrelated criminal investigations in separate women's colleges in the same year. Just as Sayers modeled her Shrewsbury College on Somerville, Hay fashioned her Persephone College after her own alma mater of St Hilda's and then inflicts on it the discovery of the body of the college bursar by the same quartet of students who were meeting that afternoon to hex the victim with no expectation of such immediate or spectacular results. They plunge into the business of detecting with the same gestalt enthusiasm, a fast-paced, fair-play, often very funny blend of detective and campus novel as their amateur sleuthing attracts the competitive interest of an equivalent circle of male students as well as the police and the resigned relatives who starred in the author's previous Murder Underground (1934). Every now and then an appropriately chthonic allusion surfaces from the winter damp hanging over the river which loops around Perse Island and its contested territory to which an Elizabethan curse may be attached, but it's not, thank God, dark academia; the ordinary kind can be lethal enough. With its female-forward cast and its touches of social issues in the humor, it would have made a terrific quota quickie. "Undergraduates, especially those in their first year, are not, of course, quite sane or quite adult. It is sometimes considered that they are not quite human."

It delights me deeply that my mother regards the young Mel Brooks, as pictured c. 1949 in a recent edition of the Globe, as a snack.

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