Finished reading Perhaps the Stars by Ada Palmer, the fourth and final book in the series.
A fitting end, perhaps a little more neatly tied off than I’d like, but perhaps that’s appropriate for a story of this length and intensity. I do sincerely appreciate that it barely hints at an answer to one of my big questions I’ve had since the first book — I don’t think an answer would have improved the books one bit.
The series is a little too weird for me to recommend whole-heartedly to just anybody, but I loved it, and will probably reread it one of these days.
Finished reading Highly Irregular: Why Tough, Through, and Dough Don’t Rhyme by Arika Okrent. Full of charming, bite-sized little pieces about why English is the way it is. I already knew much of it, but there was plenty I didn’t know, and a couple times it ventured deeper into linguistics than my dilettante self could quite follow. You know whether or not you would enjoy the book from the title.
Finished reading Harlem Shuffle by Colson Whitehead, a delightful story (or, really, three stories) of crime and family, set in late ’50s and early ’60s Harlem. Highly recommended.
Finished reading My Real Children by Jo Walton. The book started very bluntly, but became much more nuanced well before the halfway point, and was heartbreaking at the end. Not a perfect book, but I very much enjoyed it.
Finished reading Game Wizards by Jon Peterson, one of those niche books I sometimes read about the history of role-playing games. This one focuses on TSR from before its inception to the ouster of Gary Gygax. It was mostly just sad: The two principal figures (Gygax and Dave Arneson) come across as bitter, insecure, and emotionally-stunted grudge-holders; the story is fascinating (with much more detail than I’d known before), but their animosity left me with a bad taste in my mouth long before the end of the book.