Not a review of Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino translated by William Weaver

 This is another classic that is highly regarded by many fantasy writers, which is how I found out about it, but Calvino's work would probably be shelved with world literature rather than fantasy. Invisible Cities isn't really a novel so much as a series of imaginative vignettes loosely strung together, each describing a city. (I like how that phrase could mean many different cities, one per description, or one city described many different ways.) It feels like a literary exercise, or game. But I never figured out how the game is played. Still, the text has a lot to delight in, like: "hanging canals whose cascades move the paddles of mills" (Cities and Signs 5); or "confess what you are smuggling: moods, states of grace, elegies" (end of chapter 6).

But, I'm bothered by how the cities are all named with women's names. It made me wonder if there was a draft where Casanova was the narrator rather than Marco Polo. But then one city is called Hypatia, not that I could connect that vignette to what I know of Hypatia (which isn't much, to be honest). Other names were more common, but I don't know if those names are linked with specific women in Italian culture, or Parisian culture. Again, I feel like I just didn't understand what Calvino was doing. The book would read differently if the cities were Tom, Dick and Harry, or Mnrrjy, Uswrcn , and Jtszgx; so why did Calvino chose women's names? 

I might try another of Calvino's books in translation, and that might lead me back to Invisible Cities. But at the moment, I just don't love it enough to study it.

Went to Brighton

It was nice. Liked the beach. Liked the fudge. But I still don't like to travel.

Review of Eternal Summer: a novel by Franziska Gänsler, translated by Imogen Taylor

Title: Eternal Summer (original title in German: Ewig Sommer)

Author: Franziska Gänsler

Translator (from German to English): Imogen Taylor

Date of publication (in English): 2025

Format: paperback, 162 pages

Subjects: LCGFT: Climate fiction; also, though the book doesn't have it in the subjects listing, its main character is navigating the world as a lesbian, so I would call it queer fiction (but I don't really know how these classifications work)

From the back cover: "When Iris took over the family hotel from her grandfather, Bad Heim was still a popular spa town. But now fierce forest fires rage in the area, spewing smoke into the air. The summers are dry and hot and never seem to end. Guests have become a rare sight. But suddenly, a young mother shows up with her small daughter as asks for a room. Something doesn't seem right about her. Does she need help? Or does she pose a threat?"

 This is not a fun read, it is all a bit grim. To me, it felt like an exploration of helplessness, maybe not quite hopelessness. But absolutely gripping. Rather than classifying this book as a tragedy, I dug out my copy of the Understory, which starts with a snippet from the Rasavahini about the flavours of literature. I'm only going from that snippet, but I thought of classifiying it as karuņa: the taste of which is pity and compassion.

What I loved:

The characters! So believably human. All the characters are struggling, all of them make mistakes. I feel like I could easily be like the grandfather and list out each bad decision that leads to each worsening of the situation. But Gänsler (and Taylor) present the characters as so human, so that it is even easier to empathise with them, so I feel like crying rather than condemning. And the book also presents the condemnation as useless; though it doesn't present compassion as especially useful, it is definitely the better option.

The text draws comparisons between Iris's childhood memories and the situation of the mother and daughter who arrive at her hotel. Gänsler researched abuse and how it affects people, and does a very good job presenting it in the story. The text links Iris's mom's experience and the way Iris thinks and behaves. 

The characters cover a wide age group, from child to elderly, and they are all individuals rather than generic representatives of their age group. They have interactions with each other, not just with the main character, so it feels like a full community, faced with issues that effect everyone, not simply to do with people of working age, youth, elderly or whatever slice of humanity you care to make. 

What I didn't get:

There's quite a bit of what I would label as poor parenting, or poor pseudo-parenting. I'm not a parent myself, but even I felt shocked by some of it. Was it just to move the plot along? It did make me think of how parents are pressured to raise their children perfectly, as if that will make up for the rest of society not caring about their kids. If it takes a village to raise a child, what happens when the village isn't a safe place for children? This isn't the sort of book that offers answers (easy or otherwise), but I feel challenged by it, like I should be considering this topic.

The name 'Iris' is used in the original German text. I read it with its English pronunciation, and think of it as an old fashioned name, but it seems to be gaining in popularity in Europe (the story is set in the near future, its seasonal fires starting already). I'm wondering about the symbology of the name. In Europe, the name is traced to the messenger goddess of the ancient Greek pantheon and is associated with rainbows (I found that on wikipedia- I think ancient myths are interesting but I didn't have that bit in my background knowledge). However, Iris flowers are used in summer ikebana, evoking cool river banks. The inn has a Japanese style garden, built by the grandfather because Iris's mom loved all things Japanese. I don't think this is intentionally in the book, but it does feel like the story might be full of allusions or deeper meanings seeping in. I do wonder what I have missed, or what I have understood without realising. 

Would I recommend:

Maybe. Eternal Summer is an example of "cli-fi" which is a term I feel I should know, but that felt new to me when I saw it it the review on the Asymptote blog. I am very scared and depressed by the climate catastrophe, to the point where it keeps me up at night. I try to do my bit, to live lightly, but I don't think individual action is enough, and elected politicians don't seem to care about the issue. I've seen criticism of "cli-fi" for encouraging a feeling of hopelessness rather than motivating people to make positive changes (but I haven't looked deeply into why that is- evidently you should encourage climate actions as accomplishable). I desperately want people to be motivated to fight climate change.

Also, so much smoking and drinking! Not a good public health message! I was sort of surprised by how much this bothered me.

I do recommend it to anyone wanting to read more literary works, or works translated into English. The writing is easy to understand. Gänsler said she imagines a story as if she was watching a film, and then describes it, and Taylor said Gänsler writes beautifully clearly, so understanding the text isn't challenging. The plot is presented much like a thriller or mystery, so that is easy to follow. Though the setting is definitely in Germany, the book doesn't require any specific geographical knowledge beyond knowing it is an area with four seasons. Maybe because of these easy to understand elements, the subtle character building really shines. The text follows how Iris sees things, and her take on the other characters develops how you see both them and her. Taylor said the novel keeps everything subtle, and doesn't judge. It does feel like it builds compassion for people.

Also, though the book doesn't end with a happily ever after, I felt like Iris is in a slightly better position mentally, as if she understands herself better, that she's able to feel emotions rather than seeking a numbing safety. There's hints that she can still connect to Dori, hints that she may be able to reconnect with Paula, and we know Baby will never give up on her. So, at the end, things are grim, but not quite hopeless.

Even though I loved this book, for me it isn't a keeper. I'm hoping Gänsler's next book is translated into English so I can get a copy of that, but this one is going onto my 'to donate' pile. I really hope someone else picks it up and enjoys it.

Vague ideas about what I'm doing here

 I'm easily influenced, and I'm not a finisher/completer personality. Reading several book blogs led to me thinking I'd like to try that, sharing my love of reading. But, why? It's hard to write, even about things I love. And I have no expertise in analysing or reviewing literature. And no hope of developing that sort of expertise. I'm also reluctant to try becoming a book blogger, because I read slowly and my reading comprehension can be hit and miss. I'm also reluctant to praise an author, in case they are a bad person, or have hater tendencies. 

On the other hand, I do want to get better at writing, a skill widely acknowledged to improve with practice. Writing blog posts, no matter the topic, would exercise my writing skills. And despite not being a successful blogger, I'm reluctant to abandon this blog completely. Is it a waste of my time and the world's resources? I don't know.

In my first blog post, I said I wanted to be more productive, and to keep track of my craft projects. These days, I don't really want to do that. My love of crafting has waned- maybe it will wax again, and I'm still making things, but I just don't have any passion for it, no passion to share. Also, since I'm not regularly commuting, I don't have that regular time to fill. Being more productive, making more things, also conflicts with my goal of not hoarding. When I think of something to make, my hoarding nature wants to keep hold of the tools and materials to make it, or even something like it, which isn't good for me, isn't helping me be happy.

I've had some ideas about what to do with my blog, but, just maybe, what I really want to explore is what helps me be happy. Not sure exactly how to do that. Feel like it isn't the success = more money concept, but it might not be posting only about positive things. It feels counter-intuitive to blog this, but I also think sharing might not be a source of happiness- it makes me feel like I'm competing for attention. What would I want to do and share with absolutely no one?

Not a review of Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirrlees

 Another book from the library, which I chose because so much interesting analysis of Lud-in-the-Mist finally made me curious enough to read it. I can see why it has such a high standing in the history of the fantasy genre, though I don't know enough about publishing in the 1920s to even guess at its contemporary impact. I felt like it was an easy read, but difficult to connect with the characters, perhaps because the narrative voice is poking fun at them, even during tragic events. Maybe that lack of connection is why I don't feel like putting in the effort to write a review. Or maybe I resent how reading it made me crave a glass of wine (my usual-though-infrequent drink is soju, and to an even lesser extent, beer). I do however love the second to last sentence: "So let all readers of books take warning!"

I will return this book promptly, or at least sometime next week, so someone else can have a go at enjoying it. I've put a reservation on another book, another classic, but I'm hoping to have a few weeks before it is available. My anticipation is not overwhelming, but also unlikely to diminish. 

Review of the City in Glass by Nghi Vo

Title: The City in Glass

Author: Nghi Vo

Date of publication: 2024

Format: hard cover from the library, 213 pages

Subjects: LCGFT: Fantasy fiction. | Romance fiction. | Novels.

I adore Nghi Vo's Singing Hills Cycle. I've read them multiple times just to enjoy them again. Because of this, I've actually been reluctant to read any of Vo's other work. What if I didn't love it like I do Singing Hills? Would I still be able to enjoy the Cycle? I didn't even consider the possibility of liking it more that the Singing Hills Cycle.

But I do like fantasy cities, and Nghi Vo does adorable interviews, and I want to use my local library more. So I checked out the City In Glass, and I really enjoyed it. I liked it so much, that the two little links I noticed to the Singing Hills Cycle were not my favourite parts. 

Nghi Vo has said the City in Glass is about love, love the emotion, love the action, but not necessarily love leading to happily ever after, and crucially not unchanging love. This exploration of love is done using two non-human characters, the demon Vitrine, and an angel whose name is not in the book. The story spans centuries but takes place in just one city, Azril, because that is what the demon loves. 

What I loved about it:

The writing style is wonderfully rich, intricate, over the top, purple, lilac, mauve- absolutely delicious. Though it seems some people criticise the fantasy genre for this sort of thing, I enjoy it. It feels magical, taking me out of the everyday, and expanding what I think language does. Words I've looked up: vitrine, carcanet, psychopomp, shrike, melusine, carmine. I doubt these will become part of my vocabulary, but that doesn't matter. They have brought me delight, and I appreciate that. (At one point I thought you could open the book at any point and find a rich, resonate passage, but I tried that and no, perfectly ordinary words met my eye.)

In addition to the details in vocabulary, there are so many imaginative snippets of different stories that the book almost feels like a frame narrative, with Azril as the link between diverse characters. The side characters all feel like they would be main characters, if the story was told from a different perspective. (I so want to read the Saga of Shani the Solitary, traveling the world to collect a gift that could please a demon, and then travelling further.) It also makes the world of the book feel huge even though the reader never leaves Azril. Nghi Vo says this is just a writerly trick, and I am happy to be taken in by it.

I also love how un-human the two main characters are. They have solid, human passing bodies but at the same time are impossible, not just super human but impossible in the real world. The story is told in tight third person focused on the demon Vitrine, and she feels disturbingly relatable, though I think this is an illusion. She remains a demon, but we see her emotions, her traumas, and I thought I could understand her. The angel remained a mystery to me, an alien character that I just could not understand, or maybe didn't want to make the effort to understand, because of the empathy I had with the demon. (Oh, dear- maybe I should be more careful when reading) Still, I enjoyed how both characters were beyond human, able to do things humans couldn't, but still troubled by their own lack of power, their inability to do everything they want to.

What I didn't get:

I'm a bit spatially challenged. Usually I'm fine going from A to B, but with no clue where C might be. The book doesn't have any maps, and even though the space is described multiple times in the different eras of the city, I had absolutely no sense of where things were. In some ways, this didn't matter for the plot and character exploration, but at times I felt almost dizzy trying to figure out where the cliffs were in relation to the river, Gallowscross, the mansions, etc.

I'm also a bit surprised at how the demon and angel are so consistently gendered. I think Vitrine is consistently "she" and the angel is "he" for almost all of the book. The Singing Hills Cycle has shown me that there's more to writing characters' gender than just two pronouns, and there is a scene in the City in Glass where Vitrine and the angel use different gendered pronouns for the same star, so I feel that this gendering of the demon and angel is not a default but a considered choice by Vo, to make these un-human characters be read as a woman and a man. Is it saying "woman" and "man" are as un-human as "demon" and "angel"? I feel like there is something there, but I just don't get it. Maybe Nghi Vo has clarified this in something I've not seen yet. Maybe she's just playing with me. I refuse to consider that I am overthinking here.

Would I recommend: 

Yes! You can breeze through it or read it deeply, and it stands up to re-reading (which I did to write this review). I feel like I should compile a list of trigger warnings, but I think I'd leave something out and I'd hate to mislead someone who took me as a trustworthy source, or even someone who took me as untrustworthy.

I know some people have problems with demons (and I suppose angels) in fiction because of their religious beliefs. It's interesting to me the dynamic between belief and entertainment. This book is not a theological study of demons and angels, the concepts are used in a modern fantasy genre style, with influence from the Christian and Islamic traditions (and probably other traditions I didn't recognise). If that feels heretical, then you might not enjoy this book, but you might still be interested in it.

I'm not familiar with romantasy, but if someone liked that sub genre (and especially the enemies to lovers trope) and wanted to try something less romance and more fantasy, the City in Glass might do that. The LCGFT does include romance. I really don't think the romance tropes it has are enough to put it in a romantasy category, but I'm no expert with caterogization. 

It also might be a nice bridge to fantasy for someone into weird fiction, like trippy, irrational stuff, because of the un-real main characters. But again, this isn't something I know much about.

I need to finish now, because I need to return the book, and because it has been exhausting to write this review. So to end, here's a paragraph I especially liked:

"No one loves a city like one born to it, and no one loves a city like an immigrant. No one loves a city like they do when they are young, and no one loves a city like they do when they are old. The people loved the city of Azril in more ways than could be counted. Vitrine loved her city like demons and cats may love things, with an eye towards ownership and the threat of small mayhem."

Completed project: Crazy quilt button

 In October, Jean M led a workshop on crazy quilting at the not-the-E-Guild meeting. I love crazy quilting, so even though I didn't want another unfinished project, I went to the workshop anyway. A chat while I was still working on the patch at another meeting gave me the idea to think of how it could be made into something useful, or wearable, rather than something to hang on the wall. The fact that the crazy quilt patch wouldn't be machine washable didn't stop me from mulling on the idea.

Years (like a decade) ago, I acquired this cheap polyester scarf, as a freebie when viewing the plans for a development project. It's warm, and an easy to wear shade, but the logo isn't one I'd like to sport. So it has remained in my horde, waiting for inspiration and energy to do something with it. The crazy quilt patch was big enough to cover the logo, and pinning it to the scarf rather than sewing it on will hopefully take care of the washing issue. 

I could define it as a broach, but because it will always be placed on the same part of the scarf, and also the scarf will be wrapped around it rather than pinned closed, it feels better to call this finished object a 'button'. I had thought a 'button hole' would be needed to make this work, but now I think I'll just play with different ways to wrap the scarf using the button as a focal point.

The good: It's used a lot of things I had hoarded over the years. The level of sparkle is much higher than what I usually wear, but it isn't bad, a contrast with the dull colour of the scarf.

The bad: Though I chose blue coloured items, there is a mix of turquoise and indigo, and other blues I don't know the name for. Because there are so many different blue colours, I feel like it works as a crazy quilt, but it isn't a gentle colour scheme.

The ugly: As usual, it isn't tidy on the back. There are two safety pins to hold it on. This isn't elegant, but it is what I have to hand, and working out a better method is beyond me.

Also, since I've finished this embroidery project, I feel like I can join in the workshop next month.

Another Utopia: Begumpura

Excerpt from the introduction to The Blaft Book of Anti-Caste SF by R. T. Samuel:

In the fourteenth century, Sant Ravidas, a radical anti-caste public thinker and poet, wrote of a utopian city where caste and inequality no longer existed. He called it Begumpura—a place without sorrow or pain. It has excited the imagination of his listeners and readers ever since, down to this day. 

“No taxes or cares, none owns property there,

no wrongdoing, worry, terror, or torture.

Oh, my brother, I’ve come to take it as my own,

my distant home where everything is right.

That imperial kingdom is rich and secure,

where none are third or second—all are one;

They do this or that, they walk where they wish,

they stroll through fabled palaces unchallenged.

Oh, says Ravidas, a tanner now set free,

Those who walk beside me are my friends.”

Completed project: art journal

 I checked in here, and I started this in 2011. Last month, I finished it, or at least got to the point where every page has something on it, something that doesn't feel like it needs more work. So, 13 years. Things have changed in that time. I haven't kept up with the changes. 

The good: I really enjoy collage, a loose, imprecise type of collage. I like doing it, and often like the finished piece.

The bad: My skills have not improved. If anything, I'm less experimental than when I began.

The ugly: Nothing really. There are parts I don't like, but as a whole, it's all okay. 

There is a lingering issue of what to do with it now. I thought about documenting the individual spreads, but that seems like too much work. I also thought about re-working some of the pages, but I just don't feel like doing that. So I have the completed journal, but not a clear idea what to do with it.