52. Pitcairn's Island by by Charles Nordhoff & James Norman Hall

Before I started this blog I stumbled upon and read the second book in the Bounty trilogy:  Men Against the Sea.  I really enjoyed it at the time, just an incredible story of skill and strength of character in the face of incredible odds and hardship.  It follows the story of hated Captain Bligh and 16 other officers who instead of being murdered after the mutiny were put off in a lifeboat.  Pitcairn's Island is about the mutineers themselves, who, along with their Tahitian girlfriends and 5 Tahitian men, set sail for the most remote island Mister Christian could think of in the hopes of escaping the cruel arm of British law and living out their lives.

It's a fascinating story in the real world that brings up all kinds of fascinating social questions.  How would it feel to know that you would spend the rest of your life with two dozen other people on a small island, never seeing civilization again?  How can a small group like that govern itself?  What happens to its children?  I'm sure Nordhoff and Hall take liberties and there is also possibly some strong judeo-christian bias in their telling, but it is convincing and engrossing.  I felt that for something written in the 1930s, they were pretty fair and un-racist.  

The first part of the book, when they arrive and start settling on the island, is a group-based bildungsroman.  I quite enjoyed reading about them constructing their homes, figuring out the flora and fauna and setting up their gardens.  There is a hint early of the troubles to come as some of the men do not treat the Tahitians with respect and some of the women sneaking away from their partners.  I don't know what actually happened but the trigger in this book is when two of the men decide they want to section off property.  This was already stupid and useless as there was more than enough land and resources for everybody.  Worse, he wanted the Tahitians to not be included in the sectioning off.  The Tahitians were pretty formidable and two of them were of their own aristocratic class.  They did not take it well and shit went down.  The real bummer is that of the four survivors of the conflict, two of them were the original assholes.  

After things have settled down and the men are in the minority (because the rest killed each other), they double down on their assholishness by building a still and basically having a three-year party.  If you are ever stranded on an island paradise with a small group of people, do not allow alcohol to be produced.  Or just keep men to a minimum enough to reproduce.  When the dust finally settles there are 12 women, one gentle man and a bunch of kids and it really does become paradise finally.

It's kind of a tragic story, at least as told in this book.  Christian is portrayed as a really good man and he dies when things are at their very worst.  It hints that they tricked the Tahitians and sailed away in the night after inviting them to party on the boat, so he may not have been all that good.  If I find the first book, I will definitely read it. 

 

51. Some Summer Lands by Jane Gaskell

Well I've done it.  I completed a fantasy series and one that I had been hunting for a few years.  There is some satisfaction in that.  Unfortunately, the Atlan series took a lot out of me.  You can tell by the time between books.  Yes, I've been doing a lot of tabletop roleplaying gaming these past few weeks and that cuts into reading time.  But this book was a real slog.  By the end, I felt like I was reading an asymptote.

Some Summer Lands seems like it will be taking on a new tack as the narrator this time is Seka, Cija's daughter.  She casts a critical eye on her mother, which might be kind of interesting as her opinion often echoes the feelings of the reader:  why is she so consistently pathetic and passive?!  Sadly, her behaviour doesn't change and neither does the rhythm of the book.  It is basically episode after episode of them getting kidnapped or stuck in some situation and then mistreated.  Gaskell seems to be trying to say a lot, especially about men and women and sexuality, but it's so incoherent that I'm not sure what her actual message is.  

The sexuality here is even weirder and at times quite upsetting (because the narrator is a little girl) to the point that in today's hyper-puritan environment, some would probably try and cancel it.  She is basically molested by a tribal chief and it is portrayed as consensual.  It actually doesn't seem totally unrealistic, but it is weird and disturbing.  I mean the penultimate chapter is called "The Mystic Floating Penis."  I need somebody to do a deep study of the sexuality in this series and explain it to me.  There also seems to be some stuff about family and fathers and mothers that I suspect is Gaskell working out her own stuff.

 Actually, there is one way that the fourth book differs from the others.  It goes way deeper and harder into the psychedelic.  The ending (spoiler alert) is the destruction of Atlantis and this is some trippy, cosmic shit, half of which I could not even barely understand.  There are vague monsters chasing Seka up some stairs that lead to a giant rod where she bathes her hands in light, all written in long, vague sentences.  It's hard to follow but sort of weird and cool.

I'm glad I've read it but I'm glad it's over.  I have the next Robin Hobb, but I need some serious pallet cleansing before jumping into another fantasy series.  I want to have some fun please! 

 

50. The City by Jane Gaskell

Hoo boy okay now things are starting to get weird!  Thematically, The City is very much a continuation of the first two books, with Cija passively suffering from one situation to another, especially at the hands of the two men in her life (her half-brother Smahil and of course Zerd the dragon emperor).  Now we have a new evil man hovering in the shadows, her father, the priest lord of her country.

This one is called The City because it begins with her arriving back to the mainland after fleeing Atlan, finding herself sold (of course) by the captain that was supposed to be bringing her safely away.  She escapes from her first purchaser only to be brought to a brothel by the docks.  She escapes from here as well and sort of welcomed to a suburban home.  There are several adventures with the sisters here that end up making her father aware of her existence so that she is under constant threat.  The first half is all kind of meandering, though with great descriptions of the city (where she lived most of her life but never actually knew, being stuck in a single tower) and the wider politics.

It's the second half where this book gets really, really wild.  I'm going to have to spoiler here because it's too good not to share and most of you sadly will not read this book.  The son of the home where she is staying (and the guy who rescued her from the brothel in the first place) goes missing and they figure that it's the priest's men who took him, so Cija and the sisters try and rescue him.  They get captured and here we get this insane floating pyramid where people are lowered in a net down the middle.  The priest is on a throne here and has an alligator woman as a bride! This is some dark, sick cultish shit.  I hate the priest-lord and love hating him (Gaskell is good at inciting these feelings in the reader without being too blatant about it).

She escapes from that in a crazy battle (so much quick and casual violence in these books) and makes her way back to her tower where this time she is captured by a band of ape-people.  I am guessing sort of neanderthals but they are described as pretty ape-like.  The settings veers strongly into the lost world mode here, which I guess I knew from the beginning but now there are dinosaurs.  One of the ape-men protects her from the others (she was supposed to be for eating) and they are both ostracized from the tribe.  They flee deeper into the jungle and encounter two tyrannosaurus rex who at first get it on (yeah baby dinosaur sex) and then the female eats the male!  You know it's coming when you are reading it as Gaskell seems to be priming the pump with the dino-romp but it's sort of hard to believe.  That's right, she and the ape man get it on! Not only that, but he is gentle and turns out to be the only "man" who treats her right!  I felt very topical in reading this old book now because horny romances of women getting properly satisfied by non-men is a trending topic right now with the upcoming movie Wicker (which looks great, I have to admit).

I'll stop spoiling here beyond saying that the book does not close off any of the major narrative storylines.  I learned that it was not until 10 years later that she finished the fourth and final book, which is next for me.

I've done an even lazier and sloppier job of writing about these books, partly because I am quite busy with work and life (and Draconis) these days, but also because this series is quite complex and worthy of real literary analysis by an actual academic/intellectual.  

 

49. Atlan by Jane Gaskell (Book 2 of the Atlan saga)

After reading Atlan, the second book in the Atlan Saga, I am somewhat reluctant to recommend it.  I still need to complete the series to decide, but this one wallowed too long in elements less interesting to me.  It had its moments for sure and the ongoing world building of Atlan continues to be imaginative and intriguing as hell.  It's just that Cija spends pretty much the entire book being passive.  Her agency is almost entirely her own psychological processing as when she is not held against her will (which is most of the book), she is fleeing, hiding or lost.  Adding to the sense of futility is that she really doesn't seem to get beyond processing and come to any conclusions.  So a lot of the book is her in the (admittedly excellent) continent of Atlan and thinking about what is happening to her and how she is responding to it.  

Narratively, things move quite quickly in the beginning, as Zerd almost immediately becomes emperor of Atlan (the boy-emperor being so enamoured with him and decadent, he just cedes his power to Zerd).  Unfortunately, this brings the mainlanders over to Atlan and they immediately spoil it, taking the naive women, hunting the unicorns and introducing industrial farming (Gaskell makes an explicit point about chemicals in the foods in this and the first book).  The depiction of the colonization of Atlan is disturbing and realistic in the context of the world she has created.  As painful as it was to read, I wish we could have had more of that.  It felt like Gaskell rushes through the larger plot to get as quickly as possible to the internal stuff.  

She spends the first half of the book trapped in a remote inn, abused by the proprietress.  She is then rescued and spends most of the rest of the book trapped in an abandoned Atlan castle now given over to Zerd.  This is a bit gothic as the place is mostly unexplored and hostile to her.  There is a really great creepy ass wizard/necromancer here.  She ends up after being cast adrift and then wandering deeper into the continent in the camp of Sedili, Zerd's first wife sometimes enemy, sometimes ally.  Oh yeah, she also has two kids, son Nal and baby daughter Seka.  Most of the time, Zerd's forces, the north and the southern armies and the bandits are in various states of winning and losing against each other. 

The excellent Ken and Robin Talk about Stuff podcast had a great overview of melodrama that gave me a helpful framework to analyze and appreciate books where the emphasis is on passive and the internal (coded feminine) versus the active and external (coded masculine).  The melodrama was originally a play with music in it (melody drama), which in the 19th century became associated pejoratively with working class and female audiences.  In melodramas, the protagonist tends to have the world act on them.  The drama is in how they persist and then overcome (or not).  

This lens helped me to move away from my "why isn't she kicking ass" stance and accept that shit was going to be bad for her and let's see how she evolves in reaction to all this. The problem is that much of her internal stuff was being in various states of coercion with different at first creepy, then ambivalent, then rapey, back to ambivalent men.  I get a sense that Gaskell, who was a minor cultural celebrity was working through some of her own experiences with 1960s British men.

I'm hoping for the best in the next book, but I suspect this may be her groove.  I'm fine with some passive melodramatic internalizing, but would appreciate more of a balance with the cool world and larger plot (which is complex enough). 

 

Bonus, here are stamps from some now defunct used bookstores in B.C.  I guess it made its rounds!

48. The Serpent by Jane Gaskell (book 1 of the Atlan saga)

Once again, I can not remember where I learned about Jane Gaskell. She is an early British woman fantasy author who seems to have slipped into obscurity.  I wonder why, male-dominated nerd publishing industry.  It took me quite a while to find all the books in this series and then I had them sitting on my pre-on-deck shelf (where I hold books in series until they can be moved into the on-deck shelf) for quite a while before I got the desire/courage to take them on (there are 4 books in total).

This was a fascinating, mostly enjoyable and at times thrilling fantasy epic.  It is the diary of a young princess, Ciya (pronounced Kee-ya) who begins the story locked up in a tower until she is married off to a conquering general that she must assassinate.  This premise launches Cija into a rocambolesque bildungsroman across the pre-Atlantis lands of the western hemisphere.  It really goes all over the place, very adventurous.  It is also quite dark and political in a rich kaleidoscope feeling very much of its mid-60s time.  Near the end, I felt that it kind of went on too long.  I was still enjoying it but there is a lot of brutality told in a very matter of fact way that kind of wears you down.  It's also not super tightly plotted, the narrative is inconsistent in pacing and there is too much coincidence at times (that may or may not be some kind of destiny).  Despite all that, it really took me into another world, while making me think and have some feels.  I was always very much invested in the fates of Cija and the world around her.  I really want to read the second one, but currently debating if I should take a little break with something lighter between courses.

The sexual and gender politics are also really interesting.  On the one hand, it feels very progressive on gender.  There is much gender confusion and switching in Cija's journey.  One of her friends is a straight-up transsexual woman and she is loved for this in the book.  On the other hand, sexual coercion is portrayed ambivalently and even dismissed or accepted.  You would almost think it was written by a man if the heroine's inner personality wasn't so richly and complexly expressed.

There is some really cool fantasy stuff in here, like the warrior birds the Northmen (and Cija quite soon) ride, the insane decadent feast in the city climaxing in a roasted dinosaur on a platter, the route across the ocean to Atlantis (no spoilers), all the underground locations.  This book should be a second-tier staple of the genre.

Addendum:  found this promisingly long essay on Gaskell that I will read after I finish the Atlan series. 

 

47. The Scotch by John Kenneth Galbraith

Before I read this book, John Kenneth Galbraith was really just a name that I knew was associated with politics in the 50s and 60s.  After having finished this book, I read his wikipedia page and have since learned that he was a towering figure in post-WWII American economics and politics (and during WWII as he is credited with managing price controls and maintaining reasonable inflation during the massive war production boom).  He seemed like a very smart guy who also held on to his values and ideals right to the end of his life.  And most importantly, Canadian!

The Scotch is probably best considered as a minor appendix to his life's work.  It is, though, a very well-written and even fun appendix and especially interesting to me.  I guess I am slowly continuing my studies into the region east of Windsor which is more and more becoming an area I'd love to visit.  I don't think it is all that exciting, but there are lots of long agricultural roads which hide quiet but important chunks of Canadian history.  Oddly, the only other book I have read is The Narrative of Fugitive Slaves, many of which take place not far from the area where Galbraith grew up and yet the only mention of diversity in his book is the English! 

The Scotch is basically Galbraith's ode to his childhood and in particular to the Scottish immigrants who moved to the north shore of Lake Erie near the end of the 19th century and took up farming.  The book is structured in very light and brief chapters, almost like an anthrophological monologue.  He doesn't take himself very seriously and there is no real research.  Most of the knowledge is drawn from his own upbringing.  The descriptions of the land, which he admits is somewhat dull, are still evocative, especially the seasons.  He is an excellent writer, with short, readable sentences that are still often somewhat complex and rich in construction.

He goes through the farming, the social relations, their culture, religion and approaches to education.  The penultimate chapter is particularly funny as he basically rips apart the principal of the high school he went to.  It sounds like the guy thoroughly deserved it as he was ignorant and mean and even worse particularly biased against the country students versus the ones who live in town.

This was a very enjoyable read and gives one an insight into some of the roots of today's Canadian culture, both political and social, with some tiny snippets of actual history, such as the brief period when the United Farmers of Ontario were in power in Ontario.   

 

46. Death is a Lonely Business by Ray Bradbury

This was a total stinker.  I hate to come out swinging like this, but I just went on the internet to see a bunch of people calling this noir and in the style of Hammet, Chandler, etc.  Holy fuck are people really that stupid and uncritical?!  Now to be fair, this book may stand on its own merits (though sure as hell not for me), but it is not in the style of those masters at all.  It's all endless sentences, excessive sentences and that weird 80s style poetry writing.  I guess the story is sort of noir-ish, but it's really hard to tell under the cloying layers of verbiage.   I feel bad being so critical because I have a lot of respect for Bradbury and was a big fan of his work back in high school. Maybe I should go back and read some of his earlier stuff to see if his style was always like this and I just didn't recognize it back then.  I sure hope not.

I guess this is supposed to be sort of autobiographical, about Bradbury's early days before he got The Martian Chronicles published.  The protagonist is a young man living in Venice, struggling to write and missing his love who is traveling in Mexico.  This Los Angeles, though, is one of melancholy, decay and despair (jebus, it's contagious).  He hangs around the sad old people of Hollywood past, watches as the amusement park slides off the pier into the ocean.  Slowly, various characters he meets are being killed off, though it takes forever for us to figure this out as it is page after page of him going to some place or visiting some person with tons of extra metaphors and allusions stretching them out.  I had to put the book down halfway through and almost gave up.  I picked it up a year later and just forced myself to finish it.

He's Ray Bradbury and a great writer so some of the metaphors hit but that's like saying Mr. Creosote had a delicious flavour of desert at a few points during his meal. How can you even tell?  This entire book if written by Hammet would have been maybe 80 pages. I'm glad it's over.

What's weird is everywhere it says this book was published in 1985 but mine says 1999.