Reviews and Comments

As it happens, this book was written by a good friend's brother. But it's also about a couple of questions close to my heart: what of the ideals of communism can be salvaged from the horrors of 20th century "Actually Existing Socialism" as practiced, and how can we be appropriately critical of those horrors without throwing out the baby with the bathwater?

It's perilous ground, and I've already found things to argue with in the first chapter. But he's a good writer who clearly knows the field deeply, and I am interested to see where he takes it.

I appreciated how much this book fills out the world and culture of its setting through individual characters' stories, without having to do a lot of Worldbuilding per se. I found each main character in some way relatable, and particularly enjoyed the way their initially disparate stories gradually get connected to each other. In the end I didn't find it quite as satisfying as the more tightly focussed stories of the first two books, but it's very nicely done and has a lot of very timely stuff to say about ways people care for each other or fail to, and about both emigration and immigration.

I found this a very satisfying continuation and conclusion of the story started in Moon of the Crusted Snow. It has a very different mood and focus, so much so that in this review I'm trying to avoid spoilers for the previous book more than for this one. Where Crusted Snow gets a lot of its tension from us as readers learning things as the protagonists do, this one is mostly not a suspenseful story. The broad outline of how things have to go is apparent from early on, and most of what makes it interesting is atmosphere and character development. Even the cover art of the two books does a pretty good job of communicating their relative moods.

I'm pretty sure this book would stand alone far better than most sequels do, because it largely follows a character too young to remember the events of or background to the first book. This neatly gives Rice a way to work in some rehashing naturally as people answering her questions, but also this book fills in a lot of information that none of the characters knew during the first one. That said, I'd still recommend reading Crusted Snow first because the most emotional parts of this story are bound to have more impact if you've had longer to get invested in the older characters.

CWs: racist violence, and this one's a real tear jerker.

#SFFBookClub (we read the first one as part of the book club last year)

Sherman's reflections on the writing of this are worth a read: siouxchef.substack.com/p/reflections-on-creating-turtle-island

And I hadn't realised quite how short it is, which makes my not having read it yet even sillier.

In the strange hybrid acknowledgements / epilogue to Cahokia Jazz, Spufford mentions this story as evidence that Ursula Le Guin (to whom the book is dedicated) wouldn't have liked the world he built. I've somehow got to now without having read Omelas so I'd better fix that now.

The music is a big deal in the book, and Spufford made a Spotify playlist to go with it. I don't want to use or direct people to Spotify, so I made a qobuz equivalent - mostly the same versions but I couldn't always find them, and added a couple of things in: open.qobuz.com/playlist/42331567

Edited: I learned that without an account one can only hear snippets of each song. There are free accounts available at least, but I hadn't meant to be as much of a qobuz shill as this is turning me into.

This book does so many things, and all outstandingly. It's a portrait of a Cahokia that in our timeline was never allowed to exist. It's a noir detective thriller. It's an intense character study of a deeply relatable protagonist. It's a love poem to 1920s jazz--the music and the cultural space it created.

I'm having difficulty actually talking about it coherently without massive spoilers. So just go on and read this book.

Full disclosure: this book was written by someone I know socially. I'm pretty sure I would have enjoyed it just as much if I'd found it by chance, but the sneaky thing about biases is how invisible they can be.

The description pretty much says as much as I can about the plot without spoilers. But what I can add is that Colin manages to be simultaneously terrible and very, very relatable - all the weaknesses that drive his series of bad decisions are ones everyone shares to a greater or lesser degree. And with that, I feel like the book manages to be a bit more than the knowingly silly light read it presents itself as, because the protagonist is a case study in how some less outlandish real world bad decisions happen. But this never comes at the expense of it being light entertainment.

Minor criticisms: even the other characters who get significant time don't feel fully fleshed out, probably because we only see them through Colin's eyes. And there are times, particularly towards the end, when the fantasy elements can get a bit USS Make Shit Up. Which would be very frustrating if the point of the book were Serious Fantasy Worldbuilding, but it's so not that.

There's an excellent book in here. An engaging story about individual and collective self-delusion and amnesia, with some very clear political messages and a grim humour to it. But at times, especially in the second quarter or so of the book, the author seems unclear whether he's writing a novel or a NY Review Of Books essay about individual dementia, collective amnesia, and the selective remembering of nostalgia. It's clear that he could write a fine essay and I'd enjoy reading that too, but the hybrid is clunky. From the POV of a novel reader the essay portions make the plot drag slowly enough that I started to lose interest. From the POV of a creative nonfiction reader, the actually fiction parts are jarring and confusing.

#SFFBookClub

Many signs are telling me that this has to be the year I finally read some Mann, and this book in particular. My German is far too rusty to read the original, but I found this apparently highly regarded translation at my local bookshop. The signs:

• Project 1933 using Mann's diaries as a source in most or all episodes so far.
• Time Shelter making a lot of explicit references to The Magic Mountain in its early sections.
• The Empusium which I'm hearing some raving about is apparently a modern take on the same story.

So... this won't be the next book I read because I need something lighter after Time Shelter (and have one in mind), but soon.

In the in-Bulgaria section of the book, it mentions a Czech film called "Lemonade Joe". I found the file online at easterneuropeanmovies.com/lemonade-joe/ (not free to watch, but a 24-hour membership is reasonably cheap). It's weird and delightful - in parts a loving satire of the Western genre (think Blazing Saddles or The Three Amigos but a decade or two earlier), in parts a slightly clunky but on-point critique of product placement / sponsorship culture, and in parts just fun slapstick comedy. Plot definitely drags in the middle, and there's a blackface scene (as unconvincing disguise, not minstrelry at least) that has aged very poorly, but worth a watch.