JJ Litke

the neural pathways less traveled

Irregular Reviews: Midnight at the Houdini

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Delilah S. Dawson brought us this little hidden gem in late 2023, and I managed to miss it entirely when it came out. Lucky for me, I snagged a copy in a book giveaway.

Midnight at the Houdini tells the story of Anna, a young woman who ends up trapped in a magical hotel (called the Houdini, get it, GET IT?), and if she can’t escape by midnight, she’ll become another permanent, ghostly guest. The whole adventure is surreal, loaded with beautifully detailed descriptions of a setting from a bygone era. But the point I kept wondering while reading was: is the hotel sentient?

Dawson has written a lot of fantasy, including Kill the Farm Boy (co-written with Kevin Hearne), which probably deserves its own review. She’s also written a number of Star Wars novels as well as other science fiction. So it’s no surprise that she can bring over some sci-fi concepts into fantasy, like the classic sentient ship trope. Because that’s effectively what we’ve got going on with the Houdini—it’s a sentient ship, isolated from the outside world, its inhabitants every bit as unable to leave as if they were in space.

Okay, so it’s not really an idea that’s completely brand new to fantasy. Sentient/living buildings exist in fantasies like Howl’s Moving Castle, and the Innkeeper series by Ilona Andrews. But I had to stop and think to recall those, whereas I can come up with a number of sentient ships off the top of my head—2001: A Space Odyssey, Ancillary Justice, ART in the Murderbot Diaries, and Lovey from the Wayfarers series, just for starters. In those stories, the ship or AI is a major character, and in fantasy, it’s mostly treated as part of the setting. A really cool part of it, maybe, but it seems like this theme is just bigger and more common in sci-fi, is what I’m saying.

In this book, though, the Houdini is a major element. I stop short of calling it a character, but it’s definitely vital to the story. It often feels like a character, as if it’s manipulating its occupants in a thoughtful, intelligent way. I mean, it’s sometimes also a little terrifying, but being sweet or kind has never been a requirement for proving intelligence (unfortunately). The Houdini itself, combined with the early 20th century trappings, creates a unique and fresh adventure.

I noticed some other reviews for Midnight at the Houdini weren’t quite as positive, and after reading through several trying to identify what they felt the problems were, I suspect it’s really more about subverted tropes than any real issues with the story itself. Of course people have the right to like what they want. And if you’re looking for something a little different, Midnight at the Houdini might be worth a look.

Irregular Reviews are reviews I write at random, not on a schedule, whenever I’m inspired to write about a book. These are strictly my thoughts and opinions. Feel free to disagree.

Irregular Reviews: Everything Sad is Untrue

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I recently met Arthur A. Levine—founder of the independent publisher Levine Querido—at ArmadilloCon. Levine is probably best known as the editor that brought the Harry Potter series to the US. Levine also published Darcie Little Badger’s debut Elatsoe (tip: when saying this out loud, pronounce the ‘e’ at the end like an ‘a’ sound; I managed to impress Levine by knowing this). The point of all this backstory is this is how I came across Everything Sad is Untrue by Daniel Nayeri, during a panel where Levine discussed a variety of books from his imprint. It’s a little outside of my usual genres, but it was so intriging I couldn’t resist.

I want to strongly, wholeheartedly endorse this book. It’s beautiful. The writing is fluid, at times lyrical. The characters well developed. It’s so real. And therein lies the problem. It’s like a slice of real life—more like a lot of slices, a cake cut into pieces and served in random ways with odd utensils. The cake is still delicious but it’s definitely not how you’re used to eating cake.

The book is essentially a monologue by Daniel, as he stands up in front of his class talking about his life. This premise isn’t introduced as a scene, it’s just hinted at throughout. I read that description in advance and thought, well it can’t really be this long and only be that. Turns out it can be. Daniel draws an analogy to Scheherazade multiple times. It’s an apt comparison, right down to the way the stories he weaves together don’t feel complete as you wade along through.

I have to admit—I skimmed a big chunk of it. Something about this compelled me to want to read it, immediately. But I wasn’t in the right headspace for it. The reviews for the audiobook version are really high, and I’m a bit sorry I didn’t get that instead of print (well, e-book, my current preferred format). But I own it now, and I fully expect to revisit it. In fact, I think it might be a prime candidate for nonlinear reading. An occasional slice of cake, served on a saucepan lid, eaten with a shrimp fork. Delicious.

Read more, enjoy it more

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A father reading a novel with an affecting plot to family. Wellcome L0040392
Dude, you are scaring the crap out of your family.
I need to read more books. I mean, really really need to read more. I used to read tons of books, and when I ran out of books I reread the ones I had. And I’m still reading a whole lot. But last year I was still focused on short stories (which I read virtually every day). I logged an embarrassingly low six novels in Goodreads. To be fair, I did read more than that, so now I’m also embarrassed that I didn’t even fully track the small number I read. It doesn’t help that my to-be-read list is so freaking long that sometimes just looking at it makes me go do something else, like clean the shower or dig out an old tree stump in the backyard. At least those things were achievable, with a decided end point. The TBR list has no end in sight. It is infinite. Eternal. Someday, after the world ends, the electrons of people’s TBR lists from Goodreads will be all that remain. So put some good stuff on yours, okay?

Now I’m going to consciously focus on getting in more novels, instead of books’ worth of shorts. I saw a good blog post about this from Roni Loren, who is going for five pages a day. Of course it’s a trick—she’ll get herself hooked and read more than that! See? I don’t think that five-page trick is going to work so well on me, though. Not that I’m too clever for it, not at all. It’s just that my brain can be weirdly literal. Five pages means FIVE PAGES WE’RE STOPPING AFTER FIVE.

So my goal is twenty pages—something achievable, yet I could still make progress. And strangely, I find my brain is more flexible about that number. Why? I don’t know, by twenty pages it just gives up or something. Anyway, I think I can make that work.

The best tip for me in Roni’s post is the bit about trying to decide what to read next and trying out the first five pages of a couple of books. I think this will help me get rid of the “what I should read” monster that takes some of the fun out of reading.

And that’s a pretty important part of all this—have fun with it. Find what works for you, then keep doing that.

Though there’s a lot to be said for short fiction, too.

Peter S. Beagle and the art of listening

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I met Peter S. Beagle yesterday. He was doing a book signing at Sherwood Forest Faire outside of Austin. The setting was perfect for getting a chance to really talk to him, since it went on through the day, as opposed to the signings that funnel you through a fast-paced line and give you all of thirty seconds to talk to the author. Not only did I get to meet him, I talked to him at length. Or rather, I listened to him at length, which is even better.

I saw a number of other people interact with him as well. Some of them really wanted to tell him things, like about how much they loved his books, or the movie The Last Unicorn. And he seemed just as happy to hear their stories as they were to tell them.

When we arrived, my husband and I did something that’s usually taboo at book signings: we brought a book we already owned with us, hoping to get it signed. It wasn’t even a book Beagle had written. It was a first edition of The Tolkien Reader, for which Beagle wrote the foreword. I was fully prepared for him refuse to sign it, but as soon as he saw it, he launched into a story about Ian Ballentine staying at his house and how the foreword came to be a part of the book. He then asked if we wanted him to sign it. And all this before we even picked up any of the books for sale. If you’ve ever been to a big signing, you know how unusual all that is.

We couldn't have it signed by Tolkien, after all.

But it gets better. As we started going through other books, he kept on talking, telling more bits of stories. Eventually, people started queuing up, and we thanked him for his time and left. Through the day, I noticed that at times that the line at his table was substantial.

Late in the afternoon, we walked past again, and at that moment, there was no one by the table. We walked back up, thinking to thank him again before leaving. But he didn’t let us go that easily. He started telling us more stories. One was about the love of his life who passed away two years ago (part of the story was so romantic I had to struggle back tears, but it’s not my story to tell, so I won’t repeat it here). At some point, I had a dizzying thought about how amazing this moment was. We were standing with the legendary Peter S. Beagle, and he was telling us stories about his life as if there was nothing on earth he’d rather be doing.

By the end, after some discussion about his coming appearances (in Canada, which for logistical reasons I won’t be able to attend), he told us, “We’ll see each other again.” And he said it with such certainly that I absolutely believe we will.

Authors are natural storytellers, and that often means that they enjoy talking. Being a good listener, in some fashion at least, is also a requirement. Naturally, there were things I wanted to tell Peter S. Beagle, just as others there did. After all, I’m about to start querying my first book, and making connections in the publishing industry is very important to me right now. But sometimes, you need to recognize the point at which you should shut the hell up and listen. Especially in a case like this. The more we listened, the more he talked. And I got far more out of the entire experience for that than if I had tried to turn it into something else.

If you get the chance to meet Peter S. Beagle, I highly recommend it. And if you demonstrate a willingness to listen, you might get a lot out of the encounter. Try to listen at least as much, if not more, than you talk. And then try carrying that forward into other parts of your life. You learn more that way.

Retribution bullying is still bullying

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You may have seen the case of Lynn Shepherd and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Attitude article, in which she suggests that J.K. Rowling stop writing adult fiction and give other writers a chance already. It’s no surprise that negative reaction ensued. Shepherd’s non-apology didn’t do much to help, at least in part because it was so disingenuous—if your intent is to highlight how tough it is for new writers to get noticed, you really need to write about that instead of trashing a well-known writer. If Shepherd genuinely thought she was writing about what she claimed, it’s evidence that she’s really not very good at writing, because that’s not the message anyone seemed to get.

Then, the backlash. Rowling fans mercilessly trashed Shepherd in return and left one-star reviews of her books. Books they have not read, just as Shepherd admitted she had not read Rowling’s before dissing them. Okay, here I have to admit I found that pretty damn funny. What comes around, goes around, right? Except part of the justification people used for doing that is it was unfair when Shepherd did it. So, when Shepherd did it, it was wrong, but when they did it, it was retribution and therefore justified.

And you know where I’m going with this because you’re a decent person with morals. You don’t get to twist your morals around and do something you know is wrong just because now you’re the one doing it to someone else. It’s that old “two wrongs don’t make a right” thing.

This is just the most recent example of people using bullying as a retribution tactic. It happens with a startling degree of regularity. People are really good at justifying their own horrible actions. I’m a good person, so the things I do aren’t bad. They’re just. Yeah, but, no. It doesn’t work that way.

This is part of the scary truth behind why we can’t eliminate bullying. Bullies almost never think they’re bullying. They think they’re justified, for whatever twisted reasons they can come up with to justify it. But let me assure you, no matter who you are, no matter how Good or Right you believe yourself to be, you are absolutely capable of becoming that bully. The more you think you are not, the more likely you are to do it, because you won’t examine your real motives, or the results of your actions.

So, what, we’re supposed to let people get away with their crappy behavior? No, frustrated do-gooder, I’m not suggesting that. And incidentally, I share your frustration, it sucks when you feel like someone is getting one over on us. What we should do is what we all said that Shepherd should have done–state our opinions without insults and think through the consequences before we speak. We need to strive to meet the standard we expect from others.

If only Shepherd had done that, she wouldn’t have so many people angry at her now.

The ways in which we are wrong

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The current rounds of controversy started with the petition aimed at SFWA. It continued with attacks against Mary Robinette Kowal on sff.net. Rather than rehash the issue directly (which is being done plenty already), I’ll attack the argument itself.

This is the exact text in question, by Sean P. Fodera, directed at Kowal:

I find it very funny and ironic that she would jump on this bandwagon. For
a long time, her website featured an array of photos of her in a diaphanous
white outfit, posing on a beach. No metal bikinis or such, but they were not
innocuous writer headshots either. One of them, with her recumbent on the sand
with legs exposed, made her somewhat attractive. I also recall she’s fond of
wearing tight-fitting gowns and plunging necklines when she attends cons and
award ceremonies.

I’ll have to add “phony” to “incompetent” and “arrogant” in the mental tags
I’ve assigned her.

What, you may ask, does her choice of clothing have to do with what she believes about the content of the SFWA’s member newsletter? The correct answer is: nothing. Of course it has nothing to do with it. What we see here is an example of a logical fallacy, in which Fodera attempts to discredit Kowal’s credibility on the basis that her clothing is not respectable enough. (Note that he does not describe his own clothing as a counter to why he is more credible.) There are also strong elements of cognitive bias going in these arguments.

By the way, that “legs exposed” bit in there refers to the fact that her ankles were showing. Her. Ankles. I’m not kidding.

Kowal’s defenders have posted statements and screeds attaching many fine traits to her. Which is great, and I’m glad that she’s getting support. At the same time, I’m uncomfortable with how we’re all leaping to that side of it. Did you see that I just did it myself above? I pointed out that the photos in question weren’t the slutty pics that Fodera implied they were. I caught myself writing it and then left it in just to make this point:

It shouldn’t matter what a woman wears. It shouldn’t matter whether she’s well-liked. But there it is, and we’re still judging women by a different standard than we’re judging men.

And we’re doing it even when we’re on the “right” side of the issue.

We’ve still got a long way to go.

Incidentally, Sean Fodera posted a threat to sue everyone who linked to that Daily Dot article. If you do, Mr. Fodera, please include me, because I could really use the publicity, and I’m pretty sure such a lawsuit will hurt you a whole hell of a lot more than it will hurt me.