Someone shared a thing with me where people were saying why are the Chosen Ones ™ always teenagers, and wouldn’t it be cool to have a story about a Chosen grandma. And I remembered that one of my favorite books is basically that. The Paladin of Souls by Lois McMaster Bujold is about a late middle aged woman who was Chosen by the Gods earlier in life and it really didn’t work out well. Now gods are bugging her again, and she is monumentally unexcited. It’s rad. Also a great example of a non-warlike hero who kicks tons of metaphorical ass by just being a super solid human being. Bujold is most known for her Vorkosigan saga, which is also super worth a look. It’s a series of books about Miles Vorkosigan, a bipolar hunchbacked little person with brittle bones who through sheer intelligence and force of personality pulls off being an interstellar spy undercover as the commander of an interstellar mercenary troop. James Bond wishes he was as cool as Miles. Plus, every book in the series is a slightly different genre. Thriller, mystery, one of them is even a romantic comedy. Lois McMaster Bujold is the author I want to be when I grow up.

Hear! Hear!

Serious question

Has anyone else read Sunshine by Robin McKinley?

Or anything by her? I feel so alone….

I have. Great author.

Sunshine, though. I love it. Seriously love it.

The Chalion-verse books need more fans. :(

Definitely...

Aral Vorkosigan to Cordelia about Bothari, Barrayar (via lazylaziel)

Love, love, love this author, and these books.

Reading Wednesday

I’ve been mildly sick with stomach cramps for several days now (food poisoning? side-effect of the new anti-depressant I started last week? allergic reaction to the large amounts of coconut milk I was drinking? who knows!) which means a) I haven’t been online much, so if I missed anything, apologies and please let me know, and b) I read a lot of stuff! Penric’s Demon by Louis McMaster Bujold. In a faux-medieval Spain where gods, saints, and demons are all far too real, Penric finds himself possessed by a demon (or twelve demons, depending on how you count them). The impoverished younger son of a minor noble who’s never before left his small town, Penric now finds himself of great interest to the church, nobility, and well, his own demon, which has never before possessed a man, and is far too interested in how they differ from women. THIS WAS ADORABLE. Penric is a sweet, earnest, thoughtful character, and his adventures are small in scale, but completely uplifting. It’s a novella rather than a full-length novel, but I was made so happy by reading this. Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett. Someone is summoning dragons in Ankh-Morpork, with the goal of scaring the populace into crowning a new king. Unsurprisingly, this does not go as planned. To save the day we have Vimes, captain of the Night Watch and satire of the cynical alcoholic noir detective; Carrot, the Watch’s newest recruit, full of idealism and naivety; and Lady Sybil, breeder of pet swamp dragons (miniature, less dangerous versions of the real thing). A lot of people recommend this book as the one where Discworld “gets really good”. And… I have to agree! There is a noticeable jump in the complexity of the world and the depth of the satire (though I’m still going to stick with Wyrd Sisters for my favorite of these first eight books, but that’s just because I prefer Shakespeare to noir). This has the introduction of so many wonderful characters, not just the main ones, but it’s the first time we see Vetinari asVetinari, and Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, and Colon! and Nobby! I don’t know what more there is to say; it’s a wonderful book, funny and dark and exciting, and I love it so much. (A question for other Discworld fans: the next book up is Eric. I’ve only ever read the non-illustrated version before. Should I wait until I can scrounge up an illustrated copy to reread, or is it not worth it?) Shards of Sunlight by Anand Nair. A novel which begins in Kerala, India in the early 1940s, before traveling to Colombo, Sri Lanka for the late 1950s (ie, just in time for both places to undergo major political crises). The narrator is Indu, the pampered only child of a lawyer and activist involved in the freedom movement. She receives an unusually advanced education for a girl in her time and place, and eventually becomes a reporter. But despite the setting, the book is far more concerned with Indu’s daily life, her domestic dramas, private griefs, and friendships, than it is with riots or marches or independence movements. Early on, limiting the story to Indu’s POV is very frustrating - does anyone on Earth think this sort of thing is cute rather than irritating?: Damu exploded. “You are mad. Reckless to get involved in all this Congress–bongress speechmaking and processions when you have a family to look after.” Indu, startled, looked at Damu and then at her father. Why was Damu so angry? “I’ll be arrested within a week if they pass the resolution on the twelfth,” Gopalan said. “We know it’s going to be passed; all the provincial committees have voted for it.” “What’s ’rrested?” Indu wondered. It sounded bad. But thankfully she quickly grows out of that. The whole book does feel a bit like a first draft – there are idioms that are misused, plot threads that disappear, that sort of thing – but nonetheless there’s a real engrossing, page-turning quality to the book. There’s nothing new or radical here that isn’t the same as a million other coming-of-age dramas about young women from small towns, but if you like that genre, this is a particularly well-done example of it. I read this as an ARC via NetGalley. Sorcery & Cecelia, or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer. A book I decided to read solely on the basis that it seemed like an excellent comfort book for lying on the couch under blankets and cats. And it was! It’s an epistolary novel, told entirely in letters between Cecelia and her cousin Kate, young woman in a Regency England where magic is normal. Kate has gone to London for her first Season, while Cecelia was left behind in the country, due to a theory that they would cause too much trouble if brought out together. A plot involving evil stepmothers, nefarious wizards, a mysterious marquis, poisonous hot chocolate, and a fake betrothal soon develops. The whole thing was hilarious and delightful, and I finished it in a day.

(LJ post for ease of commenting.)

I haven’t read the middle two books, but I love Penric’s Demon and Sorcery & Cecelia. The stories are engrossing and the protagonists are delightful. Both excellent reads!

Lois McMaster Bujold, Paladin of Souls (via nanoishuge)

I love this quote

The Invisible Bus Stop

My roommate and I recently went out on a day trip to the the dinosaur excavations not far from where we live (which was awesome).  The more amusing part of our adventure however, was the coming and going.  When we arrived at the bus stop that morning a Chinese friend of our bought the tickets for us and informed us that there is no bus that goes there, there is one that goes past and the driver should be more than willing to drop us off.  It seemed a little odd, but as most things in China seem that say to me, I didn’t think much of it.

When the bus driver dropped us off he informed us that we should just go back towards the highway to catch the bus back.  We thanked him and went on our way.  It wasn’t until we were leaving that we realized it might not be as easy as it sounded.  As we left we found that in order to go to the highway as we were told, one had to take the overpass, which did not have a pedestrian walkway.  Upon asking again though, we were assured that was the correct way to catch the bus.  So we found ourselves walking around a cloverleaf hoping that no speeding drivers came around the bend.  (luckily none did)

When we had reached the highway, it was just that, no bus stop, no sign, no anything.  And our confused American minds began searching for a solution, eventually we crossed the highway and went into the village, once again, to ask for directions.  This time we were more specific, asking where on the highway we would catch the bus.  We were, once again, informed that we should just wait on the highway.  At this point, deciding that maybe it really was that simple, we went out to the highway and waited.  After a while we saw a bus coming our way with the correct city listed in the window.  And we waved our arms, and low and behold, it stopped.

The real reason we struggle to adjust to different cultures is that they are constantly surprising our expectations.  We expected a bus stop, we didn’t get one, and we didn’t know what to do.  Living in China I have constantly been disappointed but just as constantly been pleasantly surprised.  One of the things I was told when I left was not to have expectations, I understand why they said it, but it is impossible.  Having expectations is how we make our way through the world.  Living in a new culture is not just experiencing things you didn’t expect, it is experiencing things you never imagined could be.  It is hard and it is wonderful, and it has made we wiser than I was.