So, my loyal reader(s?), WTF am I supposed to do with this thing? I need to know my audience and their interests. I could write about damn near anything. However, Cari holds down the fort on the parent/family blogging very nicely, and frankly discussing anything else makes me feel petty and detached, as though I’m placing myself above domestic concerns. Which I’m not.
I could discuss books I’m reading, or want to read.
I could discuss politics, but basically I’d just have links to Glenn Greenwald on salon.com (the only writer still worth reading on Salon) and Scott Horton on harpers.org.
I could keep churning up random bits of effluvia about SF movies.
I could discuss work, except not really, because we’re still a big furball of a startup and lips must remain zipped.
I could discurse about Philip K. Dick, gnosticism, and the giant mistake that is received Western Christianity.
Any responses will be most welcome. As a placeholder, I’ll mention that I’m reading Peter Hamilton’s The Reality Dysfunction, a thousand-page brick that’s volume one of his “Night’s Dawn Trilogy.” I’m frankly disappointed and underwhelmed so far; a lot of hackneyed writing (including pernicious comma splices) and not many Cool Ideas. I’m considering giving it up in favor of, say, China Miéville’s Kraken or the Stieg Larsson books or any of the dozens of other books forever piling up next to my bed, not to mention the hundreds I want to reread (I pulled Brunner’s Stand on Zanzibar and The Sheep Look Up from the stacks last week). However, Hamilton’s tomes are supposed to be defining works of the “new space opera.” Stick with long, tedious books in the hopes they get better, or cut my losses before too much time investment?
I finished Peter Watts’s Starfish a couple of weeks ago and was underwhelmed. A lot of heavy atmospherics and faked-out character depths that led up to a single and singularly dull plot point. I’m not terribly motivated to read the remaining “Rifters” books (Maelstrom and βehemoth), even though I have them for free (Creative Commons downloads). I might try Blindsight, his non-Rifters book, but I think I’d need some encouragement to do so. Every single one of his characters is psychopathological, and I can’t help but wonder just how much of his run-in with US border agents might have been catalyzed by his own psychological drama. (After working at Staunton Clinic for seven years, yes, I get to make judgments like that.)
Well, looky there, another meandering, pointless entry. Enjoy utter obscurity on Teh Intarwebz, little post.
