yendi

16. Mappa Mundi, by Justina Robson (who has joined LJ as justinar as of, well, today). I grabbed this one at the library last weekend, and I'm damned impressed. It's essentially a spy story set in the near future, focusing on the bad things that happen when futurist chocolate (nanotechnology) gets into futurist peanut butter (the titular mapping of the human mind). The results are much worse than any peanut butter cup, as government agencies recognize that the potential to help humanity with this technology is more than outweighed by the potential to use it as a weapon or for "peacekeeping." Although the tech is the driving force behind the book, it's the four main characters -- a psychiatrist, two government agents (with differing goals), and a visionary scientist with a shady background -- who drive the story. Highly recommended.

17. The Sagan Diary by John Scalzi. This is a short follow-up to Scalzi's two previous books in the Old Man's War universe. I don't think this one's very accessible to folks who haven't read the previous works, but I also can't imagine someone dropping hardcover money for a novella unless they were already sold on the author. This novella is a nice examination of the mind of Jane Sagan, and if it doesn't add much in terms of outright plot to the universe, it fleshes out her character greatly, offering the first real glimpse into her mind. Recommended for fans of Old Man's War and The Ghost Brigades (which should be all of you -- excluding lokilokust -- so if you're not a fan, go check out those books).

18. Idlewild, by Nick Sagan. As with Robson, I'd heard great things about Sagan's writing for years, but hadn't gotten around to reading his stuff until last week. For some reason, this was in the Middle School section of our local library (presumably because of the high-school setting?). Don't be fooled. This is a damned fine novel for adults (or any mature sci-fi reader), with great characters and some nifty plot twists. The few predictable elements -- I can't imagine any reader being fooled by the "whodunit" subplot -- are more than offset by a great exploration of VR, and some really nice plot elements. Sagan's also got a natural ear for dialogue (not suprising, given his television background), and uses it wisely to bring his characters to life. Highly recommended.

10: Crazy '08: How a Cast of Cranks, Rogues, Boneheads, and Magnates Created the Greatest Year in Baseball History, by Cait Murphy. This is a book that completely and utterly fails in its stated goal (convincing this reader that the 1908 season was the best in MLB history) and scope (covering the 1908 season's races in depth). It's also, however, a book that absolutely belongs in the library of any baseball fan.

As far as why Murphy (daughter of John Cullen Murphy, Hal Foster's successor on Prince Valiant) fails in her stated goal, it's largely because she starts with a flawed thesis. Although I certainly think that a pair of great pennant races is vital to a great season, I also think a great postseason is essential. Murphy acknowledges that the World Series -- a 4-1 victory by the Cubs over the Tigers -- was underwhelming, but argues that the greatness of the season itself makes up for it. And this is where her scope fails her.

It's possible that the races were exciting enough to make up for a lackluster postseason, but Murphy clearly finds herself more interested in the race between the Cubs and Giants than the AL race, or even the third team in the NL picture, the Pirates. It's understandable, as those two teams both had fascinating managers (Chance and McGraw), hall-of-famers anchoring their pitching staffs (Three-Finger Brown and Christy Mathewson), and lots of famous (Tinker and Evers) and infamous (Merkle) folks around the clubhouse. But by focusing so much of the book on the NL race, and by third-stringing the Pirates (who were in the three-way battle up until the end), it's hard to get a pitcture of a great baseball year if you weren't in New York or Chicago. Throw in some digressions that don't deal with baseball at all (I'm a huge fan of the Belle Gunness story, but living near Chicago doesn't make her relevant), and the focus isn't really going to convince anyone who wasn't already a devotee of this year.

That said, this is still a wonderful book. Murphy has an engaging writing style, and the amount of research she puts into this work (at times generating over 100 endnotes a chapter) is astonishing. Fans of the Cubs/Giants race (particularly the infamous Fred Merkle miscue that cost the Giants the pennant) will have more information than they could have dreamed of, and the level of detail in general is wonderful. Even most of Murphy's failures above work to make the book interesting, as anecdotes of the various baseball crimes and misdemeanors folks like McGraw committed, regardless of how long before or after 1908 they might have taken place, are a joy to read about.

Highest recommendation, in spite of all my criticism, for any fan of the game. And if we ever get an expanded edition that offers more than a chapter on the 1908 American League race, I'll be even happier.

(Oh, as for my choices? 1986, 1991, 1941, 1951, 1967-69, and 1908 are all viable candidates for "greatest season ever," and I'll leave it at that.)

11: Private Eye Action as you like it. . . by Joe Lansdale and Lewis Shiner. My edition, btw, is #4. I guess I got lucky when I ordered it (although I've had this book for so long, I'm embarrassed to say that I can't remember when I got it). This is a collection of early Lansdale and Shiner private eye stories that appeared in the late Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine. Both Lansdale and Shiner are much better writers now than they were thirty years ago, and I don't think I'd use this book to try to convince anyone to read their works. But for fans of either (or both), there's enough stuff here that reflects the talents and unique styles of each author, and a good opportunity to see how far they've come. Also, the essays (two by each author) about their early days are damned funny.

4. Are You Really Going to Eat That?, by Robb Walsh. This collection of articles by Walsh (mostly from Houston and Austin papers, but also from some national magazines) doesn't quite live up to its promise, as other than a chapter focusing on Durian (the stinky fruit whose name sounds like it should be a brand of prophylactics), we mostly focus on peppers, coffee, Salvadoran food, some great chefs, and food philosophy. None of which is to say I disliked this collection at all. Walsh is a witty writer who appreciates good food and is willing to go out of his way for it. Just go in expecting more of a set of memories from a guy who simply enjoys good cuisine, not a look into truly bizarre food items.

5. Fragile Things, by Neil Gaiman. I was surprised at how few of these pieces I'd already read -- only three, and one (Keepsakes and Treasures) was read so long ago, I had almost completely forgotten it. There are few disappointments in any collection of Neil's work, and, as I've mentioned in the past, I think that the shorter works -- stories and novellas -- are where he shines. Here, we get some nice twists on gothic pieces ("Coffee Grounds" was probably my favorite of the assorted ghost stories), traditional ghost stories ("Closing Time"), humor ("Forbidden Brides of the Faceless Slaves in the Secret House of the Night of Dread Desire" wins on title alone), and other subgenres. Neil also throws in an American Gods novella, "Monarch of the Glen," which I enjoyed more than I'd expected, and which adds some interesting depth to Shadow. The point is, you should read this. It's Neil, and it's good.

6. The Nasty Bits, Anthony Bourdain. I adore Bourdain's writing, and this collection of essays epitomizes everything I like about him. We get him at his most opinionated (he's even will to publish some older pieces that he acknowledges show him being an ass, and admit that he's changed his mind). We get his wonderful rants against Woody Harrelson and the raw food movement, his love of indigenous foods, his hatred of American fast food, his appreciation of the work of his fellow chefs, and even a short story. We also get a food porn piece on Masa that had me positively drooling. If you like food at all (and by "food," I do not mean "Big Mac"), buy this book.

7. Nothing but the Night, by Bill Pronzini. This is, technically, a predictable little work. We get chapters alternating POVs between a man seeking justice for a hit-and-run accident that hospitalized his wife, and the businessman with a troubled past who matches the police sketch of the hit-and-run driver. The development of the story follows the usual stalker plotline, combined with the "trauma helps heal family wounds" trope, but Pronzini's a good enough writer to keep the book engaging. The story is tautly-written and fast-moving, and if it's not a great book, it's an enjoyable and quick (I read it on the bus rides to and from the MFA last night) read.