How diverse are my book shelves?

Not very it turns out. Below are the fifty science fiction and fantasy writers I’ve bought the most books of, according to Librarything. Thirtyeight male, twelve female writers, one writer of colour. Part of that discrepancy is of course the inertia of any collection: it takes time and effort to get new writers into the top fifty. But I think part of it is due to the fact that it has been easier for white, male writers to keep their career going than it has been for women/writers of colour. It hasn’t been that long since there were only two first grade Black writers in science fiction: Butler and Delany. I like to think that if I look at this list again in one or two years time, it will be more diverse.

  1. Terry Pratchett (55)
  2. Poul Anderson (45)
  3. Robert A. Heinlein (37)
  4. C. J. Cherryh (34)
  5. Andre Norton (34)
  6. Michael Moorcock (33)
  7. Jack Vance (33)
  8. Robert Silverberg (30)
  9. Frederik Pohl (24)
  10. Philip K. Dick (23)
  11. Charlie Stross (23)
  12. Glen Cook (21)
  13. Roger Zelazny (20)
  14. Steven Brust (19)
  15. Samuel R. Delany (19)
  16. Isaac Asimov (18)
  17. Lois McMaster Bujold (18)
  18. Paul J. McAuley (17)
  19. Tanya Huff (16)
  20. Keith Laumer (16)
  21. Philip Jose Farmer (15)
  22. Ursula K. Le Guin (15)
  23. Larry Niven (15)
  24. Walter Jon Williams (15)
  25. Iain M. Banks (14)
  26. John Barnes (14)
  27. Elizabeth Bear (14)
  28. Ken MacLeod (14)
  29. Brian W. Aldiss (13)
  30. Avram Davidson (13)
  31. Diane Duane (13)
  32. Christopher Priest (13)
  33. Neal Asher (12)
  34. Leigh Brackett (12)
  35. Mary Gentle (12)
  36. Harry Harrison (12)
  37. E. E. ‘Doc’ Smith (12)
  38. Bruce Sterling (12)
  39. Jo Walton (12)
  40. David Weber (12)
  41. James Blish (11)
  42. Lloyd Biggle Jr. (10)
  43. Steven Erikson (10)
  44. M. John Harrison (10)
  45. Gwyneth Jones (10)
  46. Fritz Leiber (10)
  47. China Mieville (10)
  48. Alastair Reynolds (10)
  49. Kate Wilhelm (10)
  50. John Wyndham (10)

My favourite books of 2014

As always I will do a post looking at the statistics of my reading habits this year in early January, over at Wis[s]e Words, but for now I’d like to lift out the books that stood out the most for me in 2014, in no particular order.

Cover of The Martian

The Martian was one of the books with a lot of buzz behind it this year. Originally self published in 2011, it was picked up by a mainstream publisher (Random House) and rereleased with some alterations. It’s, with one exeception, the most heartland science fiction novel I’ve read this year, set smack in the heart of the genre. There have been other novels about astronauts losts on Mars before, other Robisonades. but the ones I’ve read tended to be dull and badly written. The Martian is the first one that had the same excitement as Robinson Crusoe offered in finding clever solutions to how to survive a hostile climate, but without devolving into wish fullfilment like the latter part of Crusoe did. Weir also doesn’t fall into the trap of making his stranded astronaut a Heinleinesque superman able to save himself entirely true his own efforts; instead it does take the full resources of NASA to save him.

Cover of Ter Ziele

In August I went to my first Worldcon, in London, which left me buzzing with excitement and a renewed interest in science fiction and fantasy fandom. It also spurred me on to get back into reading Dutch language fantastika, so I started off following various Dutch SFF people on Twitter, as you do. It was thanks to this that I got to know about Esther Scherpenisse’s Ter Ziele, a chapbook collection of two short novellas. The first story in particular hit me, dealing as it does with death, grief and letting go. It’s no surprise it won the main Dutch prize for science fiction/fantasy, the Paul Harlandprijs. I hope Esther Scherpenisse will write and publish more before long.

Cover of Ancillary Sword

Ann leckie’s Ancillary Justice was one of the best if not the best science fiction novels I’d read last year, so my expectations for the sequel, Ancillary Sword were high. Leckie didn’t disappoint me. Paradoxically it both took place on a smaller stage than the previous novel and concerned itself with bigger matters. Most of Ancillary Justice revolved around Breq’s struggle to come to grips with her own identity and her quest for vengeance, her inner turmoil, but Ancillary Sword has those struggles if not entirely resolved, so much so that she’s in full control here. And whereas the focus of the original novel, thanks to its novel use of pronouns, was mainly on gender, here it is on the impact of colonialism, something science fiction as a genre direly needs to come to grips with. Too often after all it views things from the perspective of empire, rather than its victims; Leckie firmly reverses this.

Cover of Otherbound

Corinne Duyvis is another Dutch SFF writer, but one who writes in English. Otherbound is her début novel, a young adult fantasy. What sets it apart from the hundreds of other young adult fantasies are several things. First, there’s the ingenious concept of the protagonist, Nolan, being forced to live somebody else’s life, see through a stranger’s eyes, every time he closes his. Second, Duyvis makes this into a disability more than a superpower. If every time you blink you see through somebody else’s eyes, it’s bound to distract you from the real world. And that has consequences. It’s not the only way Otherbound deals with disability; all three main characters are bound together by their disabilities, their lives interwoven because of it. Third, she has also seriously thought about the consent issues of being able to share someone’s life so intimately. And she manages to do all this and write a gripping adventure story too.

Cover of The Mirror Empire

I read Hurley’s first novel, Gods War, last year and that had been a good if flawed novel. The Mirror Empire is a cut above it. Hurley’s first venture into fantasy, it’s one of the novels, with Otherbound and Ancillary Sword that immediately made it on my Hugo shortlist for next year. In some ways it is a traditional epic fantasy, complete with a Big Bad that needs to be defeated, but what makes it special is its worldbuilding. The world of The Mirror Empire is one of the more fully realised, interesting and novel I’ve read in a long time and she manages it without “the great clomping foot of nerdism” stomping down on the story. Hurley supported The Mirror Empire with a promotional blog tour which is also worth reading to learn more about the background to which it was written and which explains some of her choices.

Cover of The Steerswoman
The Steerswoman series I knew about from other fans raving about it since the mid-nineties at the very least, but I never encountered the books in the wild, until James Nicoll linked to Rosemary Kirstein’s post offering the ebooks for sale. So inbetween walking from one panel to another at Loncon3, I bought the entire series. I was glad I did. What at a first glance looks like fantasy and starts out feeling like a standard if well written fantasy quest story, morphs gradually into the hardest science fiction series I’ve ever written. Because what you have here is a woman finding out the truth about the world she lives in through deduction and induction, through doing thought experiments and practical confirmation of them, without ever cheating, without being fed clues by better informed characters, without using magical technology or jumping to conclusions she shouldn’t be able to make. It’s a brilliant series too little known because for various reasons it took Kirstein over three decades to write the first four books of it and it’s still not finished. But don’t let that stop you: each book stands on its own and each is better than the last.

Cover of Dhalgren

Question: what are the two places man will never reach? Answer: the heart of the sun and page 100 of Dhalgren. An old joke, but one that indicates Dhalgren‘s reputation as a difficult book. Which didn’t stop it from being one of science fiction’s first runaway bestsellers. Personally I didn’t find it that difficult to read, just long, because I just let myself flow along Delany’s narrative. If you go looking for a proper, standard sf, story, you won’t find it here. But it is about cities and independence and queerness and the gloriousness of our bodies, ourselves and all sorts of weird seventies shit. This is one of those books that are hard to review or recap, require some investment of time and effort to get the most out of it, but do reward you if you do so. Delany is such a good writer that I wouldn’t mind reading his interpretation of the Manhattan phonebook, as long as he keeps off the booger sex.

Cover of Lagoon

I also read Nnedi Okorafor’s Who Fears Death this year, but Lagoon was the better book, another Hugo candidate for me. Written out of frustration with the South African sf movie District 9, this is her version of an alien invasion, set in Lagos, Nigeria. That setting already sets it apart from the ordinary run of invasion stories, usually set in the States or sometimes Europe. But there’s also Okorafor’s unapologetic use of Nigerian English rather than “standard” English. For somebody like me not used to it, this made it slightly more difficult to read at times, but no more so than when some fantasy writer has put made up Elfish words in his fantasy. Then there’s the genre breaking Okorafor cheerfully commits here as well, as one chapter frex is told from the perspective of a spider trying to cross a tarmac road, a self aware and evil tarmac road looking for new victims to devour…

Cover of Zero Sum Game

Zero Sum Game is S L Huang’s début novel, a fast paced technothriller, which I only discovered because of her post about last year’s SFWA controversies. That got me reading her blog, curious for her novel, so I bought it when it came out. What I most liked about the book was its heroine, Cas Russell, a math savant who can e.g. calculate the paths of a stream of bullets shot out by a semi-automatic in realtime quickly enough to dodge them all. If you think too much about this power it gets ridiculous, but Huang moves the action quickly enough to not give you the chance to do so. Cas is also, as becomes clear quickly, somewhat of a damaged individual, somebody with no sense of morality but not a sociopath, who has to rely on other people’s sense of what’s right and wrong, which doesn’t always end up well. Currently I’m reading the sequel, Half Life, coming out soon. Expect a review in early January.

Cover of Ascension

Jacqueline Koyanagi’s Ascension was a book I completely discovered by accident, on the sales rack of my favourite Amsterdam bookstore. What pulled me to it was the woman on the cover, as black women don’t often feature on sf covers, not even when they are the protagonist. And it turned out this was the protagonist, a lesbian, disabled woman of colour working as a starship engineer in a dead end job in the middle of a depression caused by a new technology that makes starships almost obsolete. This is a book about sibling rivalry, love, both romantically and otherwise and the difficulties of living true to your own life when you’re poor and almost powerless. It’s also about making choices and having the courage to stand behind them. It’s a brilliant novel, one that should’ve been a contender for the Hugo and Nebula Awards together with Ancillary Justice, but which sadly didn’t get the buzz that book got.

Cover of The Blue Place

Finally, I need to mention two of the books I found the hardest to read this year, Nicola Griffith’s The Blue Place and Stay, the first two novels in a crime thriller trilogy. What made it hard for me was that these books revolved around a death, a death I saw coming throughout The Blue Place and hoping Griffith would find a way to avoid it, while Stay deals with the fallout with that murder. The grief and sorrow in the latter were so real that I had to set it aside the first time I read it, in August, because it reminded me too much of my own loss, the death of my wife three years ago. But if it was hgard for me to read, it was harder for Nicola Griffith to write, twelve years after her little sister died, with her older sister dying through it. It’s no wonder it caught grief and sorrow so well.

Other books I could mention here as well: Sarah Tolmie’s The Stone Boatmen, for me another Hugo candidate. Jo Walton’s What Makes This Book so Great, an enthusiastic anthology of book reviews. Fly by Wire, William Langewiesche’s great explenation of just why captain Sullenberger could put down his Airbus 320 down safely on the Hudson after being hit by a goose. A Stranger in Olondria by Sofia Samatar and Three Parts Dead by Max Gladstone, both read for the John Campbell Award, both very good in their own way fantasy stories. Tobias Buckell’s Hurricane Fever a great near future technothriller romp. Seanan McGuire’s Velveteen vs the Junior Super Patriots/The Multiverse: maniac superhero fanfic that hits all the feels. Aliette de Bodard’s On a Red Station Drifting: family orientated flawed but interesting space opera. N. K. Jemisin’s Dreamblood duology: Egyptian inspired, but not derivative fantasy. Richard Penn’s The Dark Colony: a near future, non cheating hard science fiction police procedural set in the Solar System. Oh, and of course there’s all the Norton I read this year, none of which disappointed.

As en Parels

cover of As en Parels

The cover for Dutch fantasy author Sophia Drenth’s latest story, As en Parels, available soon from Smashwords. I like her approach to writing:

Ten years ago I gave up my writing career. All the power was with the big publishing houses. They all said I was talented, but that they’d rather publish an established author. Early in 2014 the writing vibe suddenly returned and from the start I was a lot more hopeful. Nowadays self publishing isn’t a one way ticket to disaster like it used to be. Social media gives everybody a chance to share their talents. The only thing you need is dedication and a lot of hard work and I’m not afraid to work hard for something in which I believe so strongly as my writing. So I’m very proud to say: my writing story continues.

Broken Homes — Ben Aaronovitch

Cover of Broken Homes


Broken Homes
Ben Aaronovitch
357 pages
published in 2013

Peter Grant was a normal copper until he noticed he could talk to dead people in Rivers of London/Midnight Riot. Now he’s part of the Folly, the Metropolitian Police’s special unit for magic, which apart from him consists of one elderly but backwards aging survivor of the glory days of British wizardry before the war, as well as his colleague Lesley May, Toby the dog and Molly, the folly’s housekeeper of indefinitive species, currently experimenting with cooking from one of Jamie Oliver’s recipe books, to mixed results.

Broken Homes is the fourth novel in the Rivers of London series. There has been a mini boom in London based fantasy these past few years and Aaronovitch isn’t the only one either who has his protagonist working for the Met. There’s a sort of inevitability about the idea. London with its long history and dominant presence in the psyche of not just Britain, but arguably the world, just fits as a nexus of magic in a way that say Amsterdam wouldn’t. Of course the Met would have its own magical police force, some hangover from Victorian times, staffed with aging public schoolboys, into which the thoroughly modern London figure of police constable Peter Grant fits awkwardly. That tension between the gentlemanly tradition of magic and modern policing is part of the charm of the series.

The plot this latest installment is a bit messy. The first novel established the series background, which each successive novel has build up on, doing a tour of magical London, so to speak. In Moon over Soho a recurring menace was introduced, the Faceless Man, somebody who had found or inherited the magical abilities of an old time London gangster and who was ruthless in using it. In Broken Homes he returns, making this pretty much the middle volume of a fantasy series, oddly enough, with plot lines established but not quite resolved.

The establishing incident frex, that gets the whole plot rolling, is almost incidental to the rest of the book, up until the surprise at the very end. A traffic accident leads to a murder investigation which, because it involves one of the persons of interest on the Folly’s radar, gets Peter and Lesley involved. Their investigation also leads to a rare book offered for sale in a manner that suggested it had been stolen. That, in a roundabout way led on to the Skygarden, one of those modernist sixties monstrosities put up in the south of London back when tower blocks were still cool.

The Skygarden had been created by one Erik Stromberg, an expat German architect who had fled his home country after Hitler had risen to power in 1933. It soon turns out that Stromberg had some links to German magic circles and was interested in the industrialisation of magic. His Skygarden is not so much a machine for living, as a machine for gathering magic from everyday life…

There’s enough there for Peter and Lesley to go undercover as tenants, to see if they can find out whatever the Faceless Man’s interest in the Skygarden is. Complicating matters is the continued presence of the gods of the London rivers, also hanging around the estate. Things come to a head when the Faceless Man himself shows up and things end on a cliffhanger as something very surprising happens in the penultimate chapter. Something that came out of nowhere, without any setup, as surprising to the reader as it was to Peter.

Broken Homes was a quick, entertaining read, like the other installments in the Rivers of London series. Aaronovitch is a witty writer and while this isn’t really a demanding read, there’s an art to writing a good pop fiction story and Aaronovitch has mastered it.

A Night in the Lonesome October — Roger Zelazny

Cover of A Night in the Lonesome October


A Night in the Lonesome October
Roger Zelazny
280 pages
published in 1993

A Night in the Lonesome October took me all of October to read, not because it was such a long or difficult book, but because I read each chapter on the day it took place. This has been an ancient tradition in online fandom, or at least it was when I was hanging around rec.arts.sf.written in the late nineties (and I see Andrew Wheeler at least remembers this tradition too). It’s an interesting way to read a novel you’d otherwise read in a day or so. It also constituted my (semi) annual allowed read of a new Zelazny novel; I ration my reading of a “new” Zelazny as he’s one of my favourite authors and the supply is after all limited.

A Night in the Lonesome October in fact is the last solo novel he completed before his death two years later. Sadly to say, it’s also one of his few late novels that’s any good, unlike say his collaborations with Robert Sheckley. Like so many other grandmasters Zelazny had declined somewhat in his later years, for a variety of reasons, but A Night in the Lonesome October was a return to form. Witty, well written and with the characteristic inventiveness of Zelazny’s best work; it’s no wonder it became a cult favourite.

The inventiveness starts with the narrator, Snuff, the canine familiar of a man named Jack, who stalks the streets of London with his master, occassionally running into the Great Detective with his companion, possibly another player in the Game. Snuff tells his story in the present tense, each day setting down the events of the day, starting at October the first and ending of course on Halloween, October 31st.

As the days pass, the other players in the Game slowly gather with Jack in a small village near London and the contours of the Game slowly become visible to the reader. It’s seems there’s a ritual at the right night in October, in which there are Openers and Closers, with Jack being a Closer. So far the Closers have won the Game each time, but the Openers need to win only once to change the world forever.

Apart from Jack and the Good Detective, who may or may not be involved, there’s the mad witch Jill and her cat Graymalkin, the mad monk and his familiar, the snake Quicklime, the Count with his bat, the Doctor, his assistant and the giant man they bring to life who loves kitties, as well as some other strange characters not necessarily part of proceedings. There’s Larry Talbot, who unlike Jack, is able to talk to Snuff at any time, not just after midnight, as well as the local vicar, who seems very handy with a crossbow.

All these characters, when not pastiches of certain well known characters, are of course equally well known horror archetypes and A Night in the Lonesome October takes these archetypes and puts them into a Lovecraftian story, making it one of the few Lovecraft inspired stories that is actually comforting rather than unsettling. The Game and its participants show all the signs of being a long established ritual, with the various parties having adopted somewhat of a comradedly bond between them, not unlike rival Cold War spies thrown together in some godforsaken outpost.

This then is a cozy Lovecraft story, though there certainly is an air of menace behind the geniality. Zelazny is great at handling these switches from comfort to disquiet. His writing in general sparkles here. It was a great pleasure reading a chapter each day on the way to work, then put the book away and read something else.

It’s also of course, quite literally, a shaggy dog story.