yendi

Only five books in 2.5 weeks? Yep. A combination of work, a few false starts on books that weren't worth the effort, and lots of time spent reading comics (the entire V2 run of The Flash -- from Baron to Messner-Loebs to Waid to Morrison to Johns -- and the first fifty issues of Garth Ennis's Punisher run under the Max imprint).

As for the actual books that I read, there were a lot of sequels:

98. Axis, by Robert Charles Wilson. A year-and-a-half ago, I raved about Spin. Axis, the sequel, isn't as good, but there's no way it ever had a chance to be. Wilson hit on every cylinder in the first novel, and comparing anything to it is just unfair. On its own, Axis still tells a very nifty follow-up story (one I won't detail extensively here, for those who haven't read the first book), introducing a new cast of characters dealing with the world years after the ending of the first story. We get some great world building and explorations of a not-quite-alien world, and (as always) some masterful character development. Highly recommended, but read Spin first.

(Also, if there's a third book in the series, it should be called Allies. Just because.)

99. Red Seas Under Red Skies, by Scott Lynch. The follow-up to The Lies of Locke Lamora (reviewed here) has all the advantages of the first one (swashbuckling, great characters, nasty happenings), while showing a much more mature sense of plot and pacing. This time, the Gentlemen Bastards really are trying an Ocean's Eleven-style casino heist, but in this fantasy world, there are so many things that can -- and do -- go wrong. This includes Locke and Jean getting forced to foment a pirate revolution, a plotline that dominates the second half of the story. If I have one small complaint about this sequel, it's that Jean is rapidly becoming a much more interesting character than Locke, even as the latter remains the nominal focus. It's a minor quibble. I truly cannot wait to see the third novel. Highly recommended (but again, read the first book to start with).

100. Dexter in the Dark, by Jeff Lindsay. The third Dexter novel has a fascinating hook -- Dexter losing his "Dark Passenger," the not-quite-alternate-personality that informs his more grisly actions-- but fails to deliver a good follow-up, as Lindsay sends the novel into a supernatural plotline that he really doesn't have the chops to handle. That said, the continued development of Dexter's relationship with Cody and Astor (his stepchildren-to-be), Dexter's wonderfully cynical comments about Miami, and the subplot involving the preparations for Dexter's wedding are are still enjoyable. Here's hoping the fourth book keeps things on track. Mildly recommended for fans of the series.

101. Up in Honey's Room, by Elmore Leonard. I snagged this off the Express shelf at the library, figuring that I'd finally get out of my unintentional rut of sequels. Imagine my surprise when I learned that it was a follow-up to The Hot Kid (which I thought I reviewed here a couple of years back, but I can't find any record of it). Up in Honey's Room tells a WWII-era domestic spy story, with the usual zaniness that you'd expect from Leonard. That said, it's weak as a sequel, with Carlos simply being one of many assorted goofballs running around. The only characters who stand out here are Vera, the reluctant and sexually predatory head of a spy ring, and the titular Honey, ex-wife of a wannabe-assassin. Honey is a seductive and sexual while still maintaining a believable air of innocence. Some of the wackiness is still wonderful -- Vera's crossdressing and murderous lover, the German POW/escapee who falls for a Nice Jewish Girl, etc -- but this book doesn't showcase Leonard at his top form. Mildly recommended.

102 A Companion to Wolves, by Elizabeth Bear and Sarah Monette. On the one hand, Bear and Monette tell a superb high fantasy story about wolves and animals bonding that nicely cuts through many of the cliches of that genre (and throws in a damned fine story at the same time). On the other, every character has an impossible-to-pronounce Germanic name, and some have two (since a standard cliche of the genre being subverted here involves the act of companionship leading to a new identity). This leads to characters named Hrolleif, Grimolfr, and Viradechtis. I know this doesn't bother some people -- this is an issue purely on my head as a reader -- but dealing with lots of Germanic names frustrates me to no end (especially in a high fantasy setting in which they're not strictly necessary). Still, there's lots of good stuff here, including trolls, wyverns, battles, death, and lots and lots of sex. Note that much of the sex is rape, and while it's deconstructing a convention, that doesn't necessarily make it less triggery. Recommended unless naming conventions annoy you and if you can handle some of the nastier elements.

90. Making Money, by Terry Prachett. Awesome. I'd thought it was a bit soon to revisit Moist (since he was the lead just two books ago, not counting the YA Tiffany books), but this book works brilliantly. From the Patrician solving sudoku in his head in under twenty seconds to the final, brilliant fate of the book's villain, there's not a wrong moment in this book. We even get, for the first time in ages, actual chapters! Plotwise, this is Terry's take on banking, economics, the gold standard, and other fun topics, with digressions into Golem rights (we also witness a female golem for the first time), ancient history (had the civilization of Um been mentioned before in the Discworld books? The very idea of it had me giggling), and those rich folk who leave untold millions to their dogs. We also get yet another Igor, the real name of C.M.O.T. Dibbler, some nice cameos by assorted Guards, and lots of laughs. Highest recommendation.

81. Heat: An Amateur's Adventures as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker, and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tuscany, by Bill Buford. The idea behind this book: Buford, a successful writer and editor for the New Yorker, decides to quit his day job and work in Mario Batali's restaurant Babbo. HIs experiences, both in the kitchen and in Italy (he travels there to learn the arts of pasta making and charcuterie) are entertaining and engaging, even if it's hard, as a reader, to view the entire journey as something that anyone but a dilettante could afford to undertake. Buford combines tales of the kitchen with biographical looks at many of the cast of characters. It's a fascinating book for anyone with a love of food or restaurants, and Buford is every bit as talented a writer as Batali is a chef*. Highly recommended.

82. The Worst Team Money Could Buy: The Collapse of the New York Mets, by Bob Klapisch and John Harper. Although this book is primarily a chronicle of the debacle that was the 1992 Mets, it casts its net as far back as 1986, and is very much a history of the assorted peccadilloes of the team as a whole. Ron Darling and David Cone participating in foursomes? You got it. Kevin Elster scoring with an opposing player's girlfriend in the middle of a game? Check. Jeff Kent throwing a tantrum when he undergoes the traditional rookie hazing (even having witnessed Ryan Thompson undergo the same treatment)? It's in there. Jeff Torborg showing the worst managerial instincts in baseball history? Yep. "Born-Again" Tom Herr sexually harassing female reporters? Sure. It goes on and on. In the hands of lesser writers, this would be nothing more than a tell-all cheapie. But Klapisch and Harper do a masterful job of making most of the characters human, and of bringing us behind the scenes not only of a crippled baseball organization (Mcilvane, Cashen, and Harazin are every bit at fault for most of what goes on), but of the relationship between baseball journalists and the game they cover. Highly recommended for any baseball fan.

83. Undertow, by Elizabeth Bear. Bear is a sneaky author. This book (which takes about twenty pages to really get going for me) starts out innocuously enough, appearing to be your standard Oppressed Alien Race Adventure Novel, with a little magic tossed into the sci-fi mix. But then she sneaks off and brings quantum physics into the mix, and throws some alien biology and sociology into the mix that catches me completely off-guard (and, for the first time in a long, long time, actually makes me want more POV from an alien race). The characters themselves aren't quite as engaging as in Bear's other novels (they start as archetypes, but they never evolve enough past that stage for me to really care who lives and who dies), but the plot and world-building here are more than enough to keep me going. Highly recommended.

84. Cold Caller, by Jason Starr. The publicity folks must have had it in for Starr, tossing comparisons to both Jim Thompson and Patricia Highsmith onto the cover. That's a but like comparing a new playwright to Ibsen and Marlowe, and expecting audiences to like him. In fairness, Starr is clearly influenced by both authors, although Bret Easton Ellis seems to be the primary source. Cold Caller follows Bill Moss, a former ad exec, in his down-on-his luck days as a telemarketer. He's not quite a full sociopath or psychopath, but has elements of both, and eventually gets caught up in a heat-of-the-moment murder. The book is certain fun, but the pacing suffers a lot, and the characters just never pull me in. Still, it's a good plane (one coast only -- you'll need a bigger book if you're traveling cross-country) or beach read. Mildly recommended.

85. The Intruders, by Michael Marshall (Smith). Short review: It's a novel by Michael Marshall Smith, and therefore good. Longer review: As with the previous books Smith published under his semi-pseudonymous "Michael Marshall" name, this isn't a tenth as good as any of his actual sci-fi works, but is still better than 99% of the similar works on the shelves. Once again, we've got an ordinary man sucked into a conspiracy that dates back centuries, but there's a more overt supernatural element throughout. The characters are all engaging, and the plot itself is tight. There's an unfortunate slight overlap with the mythology of 100 Bullets, something not helped by the presence of an enforcer named Shepherd, but there's more than enough divergence here to make that a minor issue. Less minor, of course, is the fact that even the best conspiracy thrillers (and this is one of those) are slumming compared to works like Only Forward and Spares. Highly Recommended, but still disappointing.

*Having eaten at Babbo years ago, I can safely say that this is NOT a backhanded complement. Batali is a superb chef.

75. Crooked Little Vein, by Warren Ellis. This book starts out with Godzilla bukkake, and only gets more fucked up as the plot progresses. That plot, incidentally, is a search across America for the Lost Secret Constitution of the US, which will keep everyone in line. Along the way, down-and-out detective Michael McGill encounters the royally-fucked underbelly of America, featuring serial killers, cultists, businessmen (in ascending order of evil), and lots of sex and violence. We also get conspiracies, humor, and a heroin-addicted White House Chief of Staff. Highly recommended. Also recommended: Whatever drugs Ellis takes.

76. Your Movie Sucks, by Roger Ebert. This compendium of Ebert's negative reviews takes its title from his famous slam on Rob Schneider. Like many critics, Ebert is at his best when he's slamming a deserving target, and this book, which takes on such worthless wastes of time as Chaos, A Cinderella Story, Christmas with the Kranks, and Failure to Launch, is full of witty insults and Ebert's usually-sharp analysis. He does drop the ball at times, most notably with Josie and the Pussycats ("The movie is a would-be comedy about prefab bands and commercial sponsorship, which may mean that the movie's own plugs for Coke, Target, Starbucks, Motorola and Evian are part of the joke." Um, you think? Emphasis mine, btw), but my disagreements with him are, more often than not, a matter of degree and/or different strokes. It's a quick and fun read which reminded me of many, many reasons to hate Hollywood. Recommended.

77. Killer's Wedge, by Ed McBain. The final in the trilogy-within-the-series featuring McBain's unwilling attempt to bring in Cotton Hawes as a lead character, this one still manages to make Steve Carella the focus even as he's away from most of the action (spending his time in a b-plot solving a locked-room murder). Over in the A-plot, a widow who blames Carella for imprisoning her late husband takes the polices station hostage (thanks to some nitro her husband had left around), threatening Hawes, Meyer, and the rest of the 87th Precinct gang. As always, it's a quick and entertaining read, with some wonderful prose thrown into the otherwise-straightforward plot. Recommended.

ETA: I forgot to mention that Killer's Wedge is the book that reveals that Meyer Meyer's wife's maiden name is "Lipkin." I'm amused. :-)

67. Eifelheim, by Michael Flynn. For the first time in ages, I've read all five Hugo-nominated novels. After reading Eifelheim, I remembered why I usually don't bother; the fact that four of the five books are actually good is a minor miracle, but this one is dull enough to almost counterbalance the rest of the slate. The hook -- the traditional "aliens stranded on Earth/First Contact" concept transported to the Middle Ages -- is a great one, and there's about 100 pages of interesting plot, science, and character development. Alas, the novel's over 300 pages long, and William Godman's fictional dad would have trouble cutting it down to just the good bits. That said, Father Deitrich, our protagonist, is a solid, compelling character, and he saves what little there is that's worthwhile about this read. The lowest points of the book are those moments set in the present day, as none of the contemporary characters (searching for the reason that the titular town was never resettled, the "explanation" for which never flies, incidentally) are interesting, believable, or likable. Recommended only for Hugo nominee completists.

68. The Fungus, by Harry Adam Knight. Knight -- the pseudonym of John Brosnan and Leroy Kettle -- crafts a fun, nasty little horror tale. A mycologist, like all good fictional scientists, Messes With Nature, and Bad Things Happen. In this case, an enzyme is released that causes funguses to grow and mutate rapidly (although not to spore, the only reason the world's not dead in a heartbeat). We get some great early scenes of Nasty Things happening to the residents of England (athlete's foot, a venereal fungus, and wood mold all do nasty stuff to people), followed by an attempt by the military and some scientists to get back into London and find the cause (and potential cure) for the problem. The Fungus is a fun but gruesome little horror novel. Recommended for the non-squeamish.

69. Killer's Choice by Ed McBain

And

70. Killer's Payoff, by Ed McBain. I'm still steadily working my way though the 87th Precinct books, nabbing them as they come in through interlibrary loan. These two introduce Cotton Hawes, but still provide plenty of time for Burt Kling and Steve Carella, as well as more appearances by Meyer Meyer (I believe that Killer's Choice is the first time we've seen his family and home life). As always, McBain writes with a flair that few of today's crime writers could even hope to approach. Recommended for fans of crime/police novels.

71. Little (Grrl) Lost, by Charles de Lint. This YA novel from CDL is not set in in the suburbs of Newford (as far as I can tell -- the city remains nameless, but we get some familiar characters), but has the same magic feel of his other books. TJ is a fourteen-year-old girl whose family, thanks to some bad financial mojo, is forced to move away from her friends. While moping, she discovers a six-inch-tall "Little," in this case a sixteen-year-old runaway with a punk attitude. Elizabeth (the runaway) and TJ set off on a quest to find a local author (Sheri Wood) who has written books about Littles, and, en route, Bad Things Happen. It's not CDL's best work, but it's a solid YA (sub)urban fantasy novel, with good characters and some surprising twists. Highly recommended.

63. Ragamuffin, by Tobias Buckell. The follow-up to Crystal Rain (which I mentioned a couple of weeks ago) starts elsewhere in the future universe developed by Buckell, but eventually ties directly into the characters we met in the first book (and I highly recommend reading them in order). The first two-thirds of this novel are probably better than the first book, but the final third gets tied down in an overdrawn (and not overly engaging) space battle. Still, the characters and the world are both fleshed out nicely, and I've got no regrets about reading this one. Recommended.

64. Ranbows End, by Vernor Vinge. Earlier this week, matociquala commented on the need for books that are fun and not overly serious (without sacrificing things like plot, relevance and a sense of wonder). This is a book that meets those needs beautifully. I expected the great vision of the future, of course -- Vinge being Dr. Singularity, of course -- but I'm amazed at just how much of a rollicking adventure this book is. Hell, just look at some of the chapter titles: "How-to-Survive-the-Next-Thirty-Minutes.pdf," "You Can't Ask Alice Anymore," "So Much Technology, So Little Talent," and "The Myasthenic Spelunker Society." Throw in walking buildings, a future society in which everyone is as aware of Pratchett as they are of Tolkein today, mind control, poets, cyberpunk tropes, government conspiracies, and a talking cyberrabbit, and it's hard to find anything to dislike here.

Vinge gets bonus points for a moment of brilliance near the climax, on either page 286 or 288 of the hardcover (I'm writing this from work). One character finally delivers on a joke that had been hanging over the plot since the first few pages (although it's impossible to tell if the characters themselves get the joke), and everyone pauses, just as in a sitcom, to let the audience get the punchline and laugh. It's something that could have flopped miserably (and thrown the reader out of the book -- for all the humor, this is very much a plot-driven book), but Vinge manages to pull it off wonderfully. Highly recommended.

65. Everything is Miscellaneous, by David Weinberger. I've been a fan of Weinberger since The Cluetrain Manifesto, and I've seen him speak a handful of times. So I'm not surprised that I enjoyed this book, or that it dealt with issues that are just up my alley. The argument that organization, in the traditional sense, is no longer relevant, is well presented, perhaps best in his comparison of the outdated and increasingly-silly Dewey Decimal System to the flexible and useful style employed by Amazon. This is a quick but brilliant read, and dovetails quite nicely with the ideas in Vinge's book. Highly recommended.

65.5 Usagi Yojimbo #21: The Mother of Mountains.. I haven't been recording graphic novels (because few of them take that long to read), but this is just too damned good to not recommend. Sakai just keeps getting better, and follows a string of very Usagi-centric volumes (focusing on Usagi's relationship with his son) to a volume that features Tomoe and fleshes out her history and family. A damned fine read (even if it once again relies on the excessive coincidence of Usagi happening across Tomoe in a battle -- there are times when I suspect that Usagi, Tomoe, Gen, and Kitsune are the only four people in feudal Japan). Wonderful stuff. Highly recommended.

58. All Together Dead, by Charlaine Harris. This is the seventh book in the Southern Vampire series. By the seventh book in the Anita Blake series, things had already started to head rapidly downhill, so the fact that this series remains enjoyable speaks volumes about how much better a writer Harris is when compared to Hamilton. We do get plenty of sex (early on, in fact), tons of violence, and lots of political machinations, as Sookie gets dragged off to a vampire convention (the political kind, not the sci-fi kind). As always, Harris deftly balances many characters, ongoing plotlines, and multiple threats, leading to a fast-paced and enjoyable novel. I'm still not sure the series needs to be in hardcover, as the books are fast and disposable reads, but I still enjoy them. Recommended.

59. Crystal Rain, by Tobias Buckell. This is a hell of a debut novel (and one that seems to have fallen between the cracks of last year's releases, certainly not helped by the fact that 2006 was a hell of a good year for sci-fi). In the far future, man has not only colonized space, but has managed to lose some of those colonies as the result of what appears to have been an interspecies war (complete with EM pulse that ruined much of their technology). On one planet, the colonists, descended from Caribbean and Aztec ancestors, have lost their memories of colonization, but remember their ancient religious traditions. Along with some of the stranded aliens (treated as Loa and Teotl gods), they now alternate between attempting to live their lives, and warring with each other. Throw in a good use of Hero Archetype #3 (man with mysterious abilities and no memories of his past), and it's a damned fun and well-written novel. Recommended.

60. The Con Man, by Ed McBain. The fourth book in McBain's 87th Precinct series is just as well-written as the previous one. Steve Carella, again, gets the starring role, with Teddy Carella (in her best appearance yet), Burt Kling, and Arthur Brown getting most of the rest of the attention. McBain's constant riffing on the idea of the con -- from the minor confidence men out of a Damon Runyon story and the ladykiller running amok to the attempts by Kling to free his girlfriend from her college exams and the idea that authors themselves are the biggest con men around -- is a joy to read. I'm also amused by the author's note, which contains an excerpt from the original printing in which he goofed and had Teddy (who's deaf) "hearing" laundry machines at one point. Highly Recommended.

53. βehometh: Seppuku . Wow. The entire RIfters series is just phenomenal, but if you start with this book (which is actually the second half of the third book, and wasn't originally intended to be a standalone novel), you'll be completely lost. Since the entire series is, sadly, out of print, you should just go read the books Online. Highly recommended.

54. Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise, by Ruth Reichl. This book, detailing Reichl's tenure as New York Times Restaurant Critic, is a joy to read. Reichl focuses on the self-discovery she experiences as she builds disguises with which to anonymously visit restaurants and finds herself lost within the new identities she's created. It's also a fascinating look at both the restaurant and the newspaper business, neither of which comes off all that well. Throw in some of Rechl's reviews and a few recipes, and you've got a great read. Highly recommended for foodies.

55. One Pitch Away: The Players' Stories of the 1986 League Championships and World Series, by Mike Sowell. This was impressive. The 1986 postseason was the most exciting one in baseball history, and Sowell has managed to make the most uninteresting book imaginable about it. We get eighty pages of inconsistant, rambling descriptions of the three postseason series, with major moments glossed over, minor details highlighted, and no rhyme or reason to where the focus lies. Then we get interviews with a handful of players (and Donnie Moore's widow), but this includes things like twenty pages about Doug DeCinces and his real estate business, and nothing with Ron Darling, Bruce Hurst, Wally Joyner, and others who were pivitol in that postseason. We also get no follow-ups at all to the accusations of mismanagement leveled against Mauch and MacNamara, or to the repeated accusations of backstabbing against Angels GM Mike Port. Not recommended, but if you do end up with it, at least it's a quick read.

Once again, I've dropped the ball, with nearly a month since the last update, and I've likely let something fall through the cracks.

40-42. Cirque du Freak 8-10 (Allies of the Night, Killers of the Dawn, The Lake of Souls), by Darren Shan. Shan has mastered the art of making his lead character suffer by having shitty things happen to everyone he cares about. Although I was expecting the major twists at the ends of books 8 and 9, Shan still does a nice job of creating doubts about where things are going, and continues to develop a fascinating vampire mythology, and the otherworldly journey in book 10 offers a nice change of pace while still advancing one major character arc. Recommended

43. Little Gods, by Tim Pratt. This is just as enjoyable (if not as polished) as Pratt's more recent collection (Hart & Boot and Other Stories, as seen in this post). The title story alone is worth the price of admission, but since you can read that one online, you should buy this for the rest of the collection, including the never-before-published novella "Pale Dog," a really fun urban fantasy (and one whose characters are, I believe, set to pop up in his next series). Highly recommended.

44. Under my Roof, by Nick Mamatas. This is the novel that shocked dozens of community college students! At its core, it's the perfectly fun story of a pre-teen telepathic boy, his separatist father, and the all the fun stuff that happens when the latter declares his house a sovereign state. Wonderful satire (which, naturally, relies on good storytelling). Highly recommended.

45. The Jennifer Morgue, by Charles Stross. I like this one much, much better than The Atrocity Archives. Where TAA was a cute take on spy novels and Lovecraftian mythos, TJM is all that and a very witty deconstruction of the James Bond mythology as well. It's sharp, funny, and has some perfectly-delivered twists. Highly recommended, especially if you're a James Bond fan.

46. Acolytes, by Nikki Giovanni. Giovanni is far from my favorite contemporary poet (that'd be Louise Gluck), but her recent works continue to impress me. Acolytes isn't as good as Quilting the Black-Eyed Pea, but it still has its moments, and is certainly an enjoyable read. Recommended.

47. Gradisil, by Adam Roberts. I raved about Swiftly, a story collection by Roberts, years ago at Bookslut. Back then, I noted that Roberts had a talent for making the human reactions to the scientific (or fantastic) changes the focus of his best writing. Gradisil takes this a step further, showing the reaction of language itself over time, with the prose evolving over the course of a century (dropping silent letters like the "c" in "black"). In the hands of a lesser author, this would be a disctraction, but here, it flows right into the narrative stream, which is concerned with the development of a "nation" of folks living above the atmosphere and the political machinations undertaken by the title character. Although the developments (technological and political) drive the structure of the narrative, it's the tales told by Gradisil's mother, her husband, and others around her that pull the novel together. Highly recommended.

(Why is almost everything I read recommended or highly recommended? Because if a book blows from page one, I'm not about to keep reading it if I don't have to).

Man, it's been a while since I've updated this list. I probably left something out, and I know I got the order wrong on some of these (deliberately, to the extent that I read at least one book between each of the Shan novels). I also have this fear that I left something out. Here's hoping that's wrong.

26-30. Cirque du Freak #3-6: Tunnels of Blood, Vampire Mountain, Trials of Death, and The Vampire Prince, all by Darren Shan. As YA series goes, this one's keeping my interest, largely because of the genuinely interesting take on vampires and their mythos. Shan's also very much from the school of writing that believes in doing bad things to nice characters. I have a strong suspicion I know where the prophecy-based plotline is headed, but I'm still enjoying the journey. Recommended for YA and vampire fans.

31: Missile Gap, by Charles Stross. A fun little novella, from the Robert Charles Wilson subgenre*. Sometime late in 1962, the entire population of the planet was somehow transported across the universe and repopulated on a dense and insanely large disc with odd gravitational laws. With the Cold War still very active, the reactions to the situation some fifteen years later form the basis of the plot. Damned fine writing from Stross. Recommended.

32. Keeping it Real, by Justina Robson. I think I set myself up to be disappointed here. When I heard the description, I had hopes for something approaching Bordertown levels of quality and originality, but in the end, it's much more traditional contemporary elf/rock music fantasy. Which isn't to say that it's bad, but it doesn't break much new ground or offer characters as interesting as in, say, Mappa Mundi. Approach it with lower expectations (Meredith Gentry, say), and it'll probably come across as much more enjoyable). Mildly recommended, but I'd have fewer regrets if I'd bought it used or nabbed it from our library.

33. Hart & Boot & Other Stories, by Tim Pratt. I'd read one of Pratt's novels, but I'd never encountered his short stories before**. I feel much shame over this. He's not just good. He's fucking incredible. One of the blurbs compares him to Gaiman. I think that's pretty damned accurate, qualitatively, although they've got very different voices. The title story is a blast, but Romanticore and the Hugo-nominated Impossible Dreams are probably my favorites. Or maybe "Living With the Gorgon." Really, everything in this collection is damned good. Highly recommended.

34. Of Tales and Enigmas, by Minsoo Kang. This collection, alas, didn't please me as much. It's not that the stories were bad; there's not a genuine stinker in the bunch. It's just that none of them really sparked for me. Kang's got a wonderful writing style, and he's experimenting with some fascinating themes. The works themselves just left me a little cold. I'll still be keeping an eye out for more of his stories though, as I suspect I'll find quite a few that I enjoy. Mildly recommended, but if you're not already a fan of Kang's work, you're probably best doing what I did and nabbing it from your local library.

35. The Man Who Melted, by Jack Dann. Inspiration for the classic game! The book isn't nearly as funny, but it's still good. Damned good. It's enough of a classic that I probably don't need to (or want to) overhype it. Just read it. Recommended.

*"Hey, a big and incomprehensible event fucked the world up. Let's find an explanation."

**Actually, I just realized this statement is wrong, considering the fact that I reviewed an anthology containing one of his stories. Oops.