Alif the Unseen – G. Willow Wilson
CYBERPUNK MEETS ISLAMIC LITERATURE OF THE FANTASTIC MEETS THE ARAB SPRING MEETS WELL-FLESHED CHARACTERS AND A FRIGHTENINGLY GOOD PLOTLINE AND JUST THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF JARGON AND DIALECT AND AND AND…everything about this book was designed to appeal directly to me. Alif is a bizarre and wonderful and perfect, perfect read. Maybe not the best technical book I’ve ever read, but certainly one of my favourites.
Ben Hur – Lew Wallace
Wildly historically inaccurate and Dickensian in narrative dawdling as it was, by far the most irritating thing about this book was the title character. Faultless and bland and horribly long-winded in his protestations of modesty, Judah ben-Hur is the type of protagonist you just want to smack. As far as imagining of encounters with Christ, it’s a big disappointment, clocking in at 82 mostly unnecessary chapters. I kept waiting for it to get better. It didn’t.
River of Stars – Guy Gavriel Kay
Kay’s latest is a work of grief so profound that I spent more time finding my way out of it than I think I actually spent reading the book. His prose is less lyrical, this time around; stripped down, as simple and as carefully evocative as the Song poetic technique he incorporates and yet still, somehow, as earth-shatteringly powerful as his earlier work (whose style I will admit to liking better). Everything about this book is achingly perfect.
War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
I find it difficult to say much of anything about this book. When I was reading it, I thoroughly enjoyed it. When I was not reading it, I forgot about it completely. Tolstoy’s characters are so realistic, his prose so beautiful, even in translation, his narrative so hypnotic. But I had to force myself to finish the book, despite being genuinely intrigued by what he has to say about history, about Russian-ness, and about being human.
On Loving God – St Bernard of Clairvaux
Bernard is one of my favourite medieval thinkers, and one of my favourite theologians in general. The man had a loud and well-articulated opinion on just about everything, and loving God is no exception. He goes through both why we should love God and how that love should be expressed (including through love of and service to humanity), grounding himself in scripture, logic, and a deep understanding of human nature.
Celtic Wondertales - Ella Young
I love how the narrative voice slipped into ancient phrases and tones so easily. I felt like I was reading actual mythic texts rather than modern-ish retellings. The myths themselves are of course captivating and beautiful, and have refuelled my curiosity about northern and western mythos.
The Silmarillion – J.R.R. Tolkien
Re-reading Tolkien always makes me remember why it is that I’m a Tolkien apologist in the first place. I know many people don’t like his narrative style, especially in the rather stuffy Silmarillion, but I adore it. And my appreciation for his linguistic talent and the breadth of his capability, to be able to so fully flesh and render this entire history AND the accompanying historical consciousness, has only increased in the second time through.
The Age of Shiva – Manil Suri
While I was entranced by the personality of the narration and the clever narrative structure, I can’t quite decide if I liked this book or not. I appreciate that it was a different face of India, one where comfort was enough that religion and family squabbles could play out, as opposed to something out of Rohinton Mistry’s India. But the writing was not beautiful enough to make up for the incoherence, although this might be defended on the grounds that the narrator herself is incoherent (and inconsistent). It strikes me that this novel’s pointless foundering, while accomplished tastefully and executed reasonably well on a technical level, might be a metaphor for India itself. Which is kind of a cheap technique? So I hope not.
Three Loves – A Publication of the Department of Religious Studies at McGill University
As these three (Philosophy, Theology, and Religious Studies) are also my loves, especially the conjunction between the first and the last, I was excited to delve into this compendium. I always forget that philosophy papers don’t have to make any substantive headway or have much original thought, so that took me aback, as did the cursory engagement with disciplines in the social sciences and humanities. Overall, though, the pieces were both comprehensible and tantalizing, inviting me back to a sponge-like academic enterprise. The pieces that really struck me were in the world religions section, one describing how pluralism in theology must be mirrored by pluralism in philosophy in order to have meaningful intellectual dialogue between the two disciplines, and the other offering a methodology for Christian theology that involves dialogue with other traditions, a subject to very close to my heart as to be practically sitting on it.
Wyrd Sisters – Terry Pratchett
Pratchett takes on Shakespeare with poise, equanimity, and his usual gamut of clever humour. I giggled so hard. If anyone can riff on the Bard and get away with it, it’s Pratchett.
Antony and Cleopatra – William Shakespeare
Cleopatra is just my favourite. I like her melodrama, her cunning way of twisting things such that people do exactly as she wants without realizing her influence, her clever dialogue. Antony’s shifts in mood show so plainly through his words – there are a lot of plot holes and no truly magnificent speeches, but here again, Shakespeare’s characters are vibrant and tragic and thoroughly human.
Cyberhenge – Douglas E. Cowan
Clever and sharp, the kind of scholarship one enjoys reading, Cowan’s sociological study of modern Paganism’s intersection with the internet was fascinatingly balanced, and cautiously critical. Not only was the content interesting and well-presented, but Cowan’s deft hand betrayed a scholarly rigour I wish I saw with more frequency.
The Heart Attack Sutra – Karl Brunnhozl
This commentary was a nice way to jump back into academic Buddhism from my yearlong hiatus. Designed to be read by those completely unfamiliar with Mahayana concepts and terminology, it acted as a fantastic technical refresher, in addition to being a really excellent commentary. Brunnhozl’s drawing on so many different interpretive facts was a brilliant use of religious scholarship, and his own metaphors and explanations were accessible and clear. I want to read his commentaries on all of the prajnaparamita sutras!
The Singer – Calvin Miller
I am always leery of Gospel adaptations, but this strayed just enough from details that it escaped the drudgery of being a copy with some different names, and became a work of art in itself. Beautifully poetic in its imagining, thoroughly emotionally compelling, and special to me, whose deepest desire is to hear God sing.
The Song – Calvin Miller
Much less impactful than The Singer, but of similar creativity and beauty. It’s so good to see an adaptation (this one of Acts) that doesn’t disappoint. The anti-science bit troubled me a touch, but everything else was marvelous.
In the Forests of Serre – Patricia A. McKillip
Beautiful, mystical, ensorcelling, and utterly enthralling; this web of magic and mystery was just as captivating the second time around. Do I have some issues with Sidonie’s character? Yes. Do I have some issues with the abrupt denoument? Of course. But, all told, this was poetic high fantasy at its very best.
Born on a Blue Day – Daniel Trammet
I’m not sure to what extent the stylistic choices here were how Trammet speaks and thinks and to what extent they were to aid comprehension. Nevertheless, it was nice to see a first-person account of things that I have learned and observed with working with children on the autistic spectrum. I think he may associate some things too readily – the peace he feels in libraries, for instance, is common enough out side of people on the spectrum – but, overall, a pleasure to see how he shapes his world to conform to his needs, rather than attempting to conform to the needs of the world.
The Mabinogion - Charlotte Guest (trans.)
Or, the book that reminded me that charming narrators from Surrey are why one listens to audiobooks. I love old lore, and this collection of sort of Arthurian tales (he’s a tertiary character at best) is full of all of my favourite things: knights, ladies, magic, honour, and child prodigies. Also, I have such a thing for Welsh names, and the narrator’s delicious rolling pronunciation made hearing them twice as good.
Dictionary of the Khazars - Milorad Pavic
I love a good mytho-historic romp. I also love charming narration and clever turns of phrase that sit in the mouth like the perfectest of sweets, I love cunning organization, and I love books that make me think, that capture my interest long after I put them down. I am thoroughly entranced by this one, and intend to read it as many times as it takes for it to yield up its secrets.
Burning Chrome – William Gibson
You have to stand in awe of what Gibson can do with the future. More than anyone else, I find the stories he tells incredibly easy to believe, and, more than anyone else, he gets me emotionally involved with characters in short stories. What a man. What a writer! What an SF fortune-teller.
Murder in the Cathedral – T.S. Eliot
I love me some Eliot, but I have to say that this piece is much better as a poem than as a play. I found it difficult to imagine staging, set, actors. It is a highly rhetorical work, beautifully written, frighteningly nuanced, absolutely genius, but I can’t really see it translating well to the stage, despite my experience with the Greek theatrical tradition in which it is grounded.
Gulliver’s Fugitives - Keith Sharee
Star Trek books are always stylistically pretty awful, but I absolutely adored the premise of myth coming to life in a society where imagination is a crime, and, hey, some good points about the human psyche were made, and Data composed some lovely poetry.
Emerging from the Chrysalis - Bruce Lincoln
What a delicious piece of scholarship! Lincoln has cornered religious ritual and feminist scholarship, two things very dear to my academic heart, and bridged them into a self-aware piece that is critical of the hegemonic social order these rituals are used to perpetuate, while at the same time offering a nuanced, deeply sensitive interpretation of the significance of these rituals both within their societies and in their own rights. AND his afterword problematizes the whole project, which is really fantastic. This is what I want scholarship to be: engaging, accessible, and really freaking good.
Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
I do like Austen’s style here a good deal more than in Pride and Prejudice, and I also enjoy immensely the dynamic between the Dashwood sisters, reminding me as it does of my own family.
The Westing Game - Ellen Raskin
Charming characters, clever plot, intriguing structure, loose ends tied up nicely! What a delicious and refreshing take on a mystery novel.
The Fledging of Az Gabrielson - Jay Amory
I like the conceptual work here, and the delicate and unusual expression of each of three parties as equally flawed and corruptible. I like the structure, the pacing, the subtle dialectic changes, the visuals, the nuanced characters. I just wasn’t captivated, somehow, despite all these good things.
Giovanni’s Room – James Baldwin
Baldwin manages first-person narrative with the poise and elegance usually reserved for third-person, and for that alone I love this book. The story, too, is perfectly balanced, perfectly paced, with all of the cadences of a classic love tragedy and all the bitterness of the real world.
Literature and Criticism - H.  Coombes
Aside from the pieces taken out of context and the gross generalizations and the unmitigated veneration of Shakespeare, I have a real problem with the overarching theme of this book. I don’t agree with the utilitarian view of Poetry that Coombes takes, which means I think that all his points are moot and sometimes poetry is worth reading simply because it is beautiful. Whether it is sensical or produces true feeling or uses words in ways of which Coombes approves have pretty much zero bearing. It was interesting, too, reading this and knowing that this way of approaching poetry dominated colonial-era England, and was what was systematically applied to South Asian poets in an effort to Anglicize them, resulting in a near-destruction of the Persianate poetic tradition that is only now starting to recuperate. 
Broetry - Brian McGackin
Oh man, this dude is riffing hard on the entire Western poetic canon and adding in beer, girls, Bruce Willis, and Mozart, and I love it. It’s clever and silly and manages to be both respectful and disrespectful of the classics and yes.
ARC 1993 - A Publication of blah blah McGill Religious Studies blah (I am always irreverent about bad scholarship)
A rather disappointing medley of scholarship, all told. Lots of summary articles, none really treading outside of the Judaeo-Christian canon, offering no really new insights. McGill scholarship dropped the ball on this one.
The God of Small Things - Arundhati Roy
Every book I have read by a postcolonial Indian author has managed to tell a simple story in a nonlinear way, with a particular repetitive style, that’s beyond engaging. There’s a thread of hopelessness and desolation in all of them, too, but Roy, I think, has managed to blend the sublime and the sad in the best way of all. Absolutely captivatingly heartbreaking.
The Fine Art of Literary Mayhem - Myrick Land
I love how petulant and defensive artists of all kinds can be; that these quarrelers are such amazing wordsmiths only makes it more enjoyable.
When You Are Engulfed in Flames – David Sedaris  
Charming, utterly charming, and yet somehow so banal as to be unlikeable. I really can’t decide how I feel about this personal essay collection at all, and that bugs me.
Embassytown – China Mieville
This is perhaps one of the most exquisitely written and perfectly conceived books I have ever read. Mieville is a consummate storyteller, and breaks all the conventions around SF-as-anti-colonial-narrative in a striking way with which I can find very few problems. I can’t even deal with how good it is.
Tigana – Guy Gavriel Kay
I find so much solace in this flawed, perfect book. It is richer with each rereading, and somehow anchoring, too. We sometimes talk, in the world, of books that save lives, and this one has saved mine, and continues to save my sanity.
Fire Under the Snow – Palden Gyatso
Tibet is very dear to my heart, and to read this tragedy was difficult. Gyatso’s confusion, his loss, his pain, though, were not as touching as his equanimity, his faith, and his unquenchable spirit. A masterpiece as well as a hugely important testimony to atrocities still ongoing in occupied Tibet.
Just-So Stories – Rudyard Kipling
I remember loving all of these, and my rememberance fell short. They are cunning and clever and I can’t even fathom how tickled pink his original young readers/listeners (who would understand references even better than I) must have been. Thoroughly delicious.
City of Thieves - David Benioff
I can’t decide if this is actually biographical, but the conceit is genius. The prose is simple, not quite as charming as Tolstoy, but similarly matter-of-fact and so good. I love the story, too, and the immediately vibrant characters. Engaging and impossible to put down.
A Song Called Youth – John Shirley
A bit slow to start, and the descriptive can be a little tedious, but, hot damn is this trilogy frightening prescient, frighteningly insightful, frighteningly possible. Shirley knows how to write cyberpunk, and he knows how to write SF, and it is goddamn glorious. I found the ending surreal (and maybe too simplistic), and Shirley’s prose rubbed me the wrong way at time, and his characters were often less than engaging. But I devoured this series, and it made me care all the more about social justice and the importance of questioning technological advancement.
Imperial Woman – Pearl S. Buck
Buck’s foreword speaks of a struggle to present the Empress honestly, with both bad and good, and well I understand it. I loved and hated, understood and was bewildered by her in turn, but always in awe. Buck also manages to convey the sadness of an era ending without seeming to advocate specifically for cultural solidity. A most intriguing novelization of a most intriguing life.
Lucky Jim – Kingsley Amis
This is precisely the cleverest sort of book. Amis writes of academia in an academic’s manner, manages to get the petty quarrelling and the hopeless romantic tangling both miserably and humourously well, and creates a series of the most profoundly and perfectly unlikeable characters I’ve read. A genuine treat!
E.M. Forster – A Passage to India
I suppose, given its time, this work is a groundbreaking piece of anticolonialism. It lacks the charm, the humour, and the narrative cadences I’ve found in novels of India written by Indians, though, and I’m troubled by the fact that the only sympathetic character is a white man, when there are so many other possible angles the story could have taken. A captivating read, but, in the end, a rather disappointing one.
The Highest Altar - Patrick Tierney
While fascinating at first, especially the combination of archaeology and oral history recording, this book got bogged down in three ways. The first was the narrator’s lack of a cohesive method (never send a journalist to do an anthropologist’s job). The second was the reliance on outdated scholarship, and on so few sources that it seemed as though they were chosen simply because they agreed with his thesis. The third was the thesis itself, which took away from the interesting perspective in Andean shamanism by using it as a lens through which to examine the trope of human sacrifice in the Judaeo-Christian canon, reducing figures and narratives valuable in their own right to trite examples and illustrations. The first 5/6 of the book was absolute gold, though – really intriguing and well-written!
The Guin Saga: The Leopard Mask - Kaoru Kurimoto
Once I got over the fact that this reads like a transcription of an anime, it became much easier to enjoy. The visuals are startlingly vivid, and, while the characters are pretty much stock types, they’re executed rather well. The most intriguing bit for me was the tension between free will and universal (so far) devotion to a god who spins everyone’s fate – something that was actually questioned, although not fully addressed. I won’t be reading the next 99 in the series, though. There’s much better fantasy out there.
An Eye for an Eye - (I can't find my print copy, and I can't find it anywhere online, so maybe I dreamed this book? I definitely remember nothing about the author's name)
Surreal (but not surrealist), disjointed, sort of shiftless in the plot and character departments…I think the point of this novel is precisely how mundane it is. It’s a portrait of a life straddling modernity and tradition, law and justice, and, for that, for the sheer banality of everything, it’s a success.
Thus Spoke Zarathustra – Friedrich Nietzsche
I’m reading a lot of Nietzsche, and a ton of Islamic philosophy, this semester, and if you really care what I think about any of it (18 primary philosophic texts and a handful of poetic compendia, so far), I can send you my independent study paper in May. Here, I’m just going to reaffirm that I adore Nietzsche, I love his style, I love his audacity, and, even  when I don’t agree with him, which is pretty much all the time, I greatly admire the complexity of his interwoven ideas and the beauty of his prose and poetry.
The Eagle and the Raven – Pauline Gedge
I have not been so tied to characters, so profoundly emotionally impacted by a book, in a very, very long time. Gedge has always been one of my favourite authors for her depth and her twisting ways to clarity, but I think this is by far the most extraordinary thing she’s ever written. Maybe it’s because the song of freedom sings in my veins, too; maybe it’s because I feel so tied to the small islands where my ancestors sang as they hunted in forests that stretched to the sky. Maybe it’s simply because Gedge is a master storyteller, and I never could resist a good story.  
Songlines – Bruce Chatwin
Part travelogue, part ethnography, part science, part mysticism; this book was captivating and thought-provoking in all the right ways. As someone who really, really hates the essentialisation of history into “stages,” I found myself surprised at the convincingness of his suggestion that nomadic, song-oriented societies were and are the most fundamental form of human organization – the moreso because his research is so widespread, and so…not research-y. Which I guess means not super white Euro-centric, which a lot of anthropology of this scope tends to be. A work of speculative anthropology written by a poet trying to slake his curiosity? Everyone should read this.
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