December Newsletter - Iguanas Falling Out of Trees
I'm writing this to you from my parents' house in Georgia, where we (like many North Americans) are looking at freezing temperatures across this weekend. A little further south, in Florida, iguanas will be falling off of trees as the cold weather sends them catatonic. (It's a good time to be warm-blooded. Hopefully the iguanas are looking at the forecast and have prepared helmets.)
I'm off for the holidays now, having completed a draft of my entire thesis (with help from my mother, who motivated me through the last 1000 words with chocolate, books, etc.), finished the most urgent prep for the literature seminars I'm teaching in the spring, and submitted an abstract for a co-written? co-authored? co-led? collaborative writing workshop a colleague and I will hopefully run in 2023.
In January, I'll jump back into work - prepping classes, getting my full thesis draft ready for a last round of feedback, and, once the thesis is handed in, jumping back into the world of querying agents. Eek! But it's all exciting stuff, and I'm looking forward to sinking my teeth into it.
For now, I thought I'd sign off with some of my favourite reading this year, and a little peek at the novel I'll be querying...
Recommendations
The thing about writing a good chunk of your thesis on the development of white supremacist propaganda after the Civil War is that you end up reading a lot of emotionally difficult material. It feels sort of silly to acknowledge, because obviously reading about atrocious things is a million times easier than experiencing it firsthand. But nonetheless, my reading for work has been tough; so my reading for pleasure has veered towards books which affirm the world's capacity for everyday kindness.AKA, these are all books I find comforting, and sometimes people do unpleasant things because they are hurt or scared, but there is rarely any big, incomprehensible, capital-E Evil.
A Prayer for the Crown-Shy by Becky Chambers - The sequel to A Psalm for the Wild-Built, which I read last year and loved just as much. These two novellas follow a tea monk, Sibling Dex, who takes a sojourn into the wilderness as a cure for burnout and meets Mosscap, the first robot to make contact with humanity in a hundred years. The reason? Mosscap wants an answer to the question What do humans need? In this second book, Mosscap and Dex take to the road in order to facilitate the many answers to that question. Like all of Becky Chambers' novels, it is profoundly hopeful without being saccharine, utopian while knowing that no society is perfect. If you've ever felt burnt out by a vocation, this is the series for you.
The Wee Free Men and A Hat Full of Sky by Terry Pratchett - I reread these over the weekend for the first time since I was, oh, maybe twelve? I enjoyed them then and loved them now. Like the Monk & Robot novellas mentioned above, these are - in my eyes - books about vocation, but also about community, and home, and taking care of them that don't have anyone else to care for them. The first book follows nine-year old Tiffany Aching as she travels to Faerieland, armed with nothing but a frying pan, to get her little brother back from the Queen of the Faeries. (Not because she likes him much - he's very sticky and mostly wants sweets - but because she can't just leave him there.) This books also contains a delightful send-up of the stereotypes of Pictish warriors, in the form of pictsies (not pixies.) My favourite is No-As-Big-As-Medium-Jock-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jock-Jock. If you like witches whose witchcraft mostly consists of common sense and knowing when not to use magic, you'll enjoy this.
The Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard - This is a book about a bureaucrat - the personal secretary of the Last Emperor of Astandalas, the Lord of the Rising Stars, the Lord Magus of Zunidh, the Sun-on-Earth - who, somewhat impulsively, decides to invite the Last Emperor of Astandalas, the Sun-on-Earth, divinity made flesh, to come on vacation with him to his childhood home, because being the Sun-on-Earth and magical linchpin of the world is probably quite stressful and certainly very lonely. This is the first book to ever make me cry from joy, and it did so twice. It is about the feeling of immigrating for the sake of your family and afterwards being met with well, why haven't you come back yet? It is about taking small steps to dismantle big empires, and working to make a better future, even if the effects of your actions may only be seen once you're gone. It is about knowing where you come from and where you are going. I am currently reading the sequel, which is a delight, and plan to dive into many more of Goddard's books next year. If you want a big, expansive, heartwarming fantasy universe to read, this is a good entry point.
Creative Corner
It seems only fitting to cap this newsletter with an excerpt from chapter one of THE SOUL THIEVES, to mark Nearly Being Done with the PhD.Until next time, enjoy the holidays & have a happy New Year!As the Beckwith House’s resident necromancer, Cordelia arrived to work an hour before the museum opened, tromping through the iron gate in heavy boots and an already damp button-down shirt. It was her duty to ensure that the museum never became haunted, as so many of Savannah’s historic homes were. The fact that the early start gave her time to finish her energy drink and scuttle indoors before the public arrived was entirely beside the point. Cordelia made her rounds each day with paper and pencil in hand, noting the temperature and humidity in each room while keeping an eye out for cold spots. Anomalies in temperature could point to the presence of ghosts, drawing energy from the air, but the readings were mostly for the curators who ensured that nothing in the house grew mouldy or warped. No ghosts would come in as long as she maintained the wards.
The protections had been added to the house after the Civil War, to keep out the sudden influx of spirits in the city. At least, that was what Helen had told her. You wouldn’t see the sigils that powered their spells unless you knew where to look. After five months as the resident necromancer, Cordelia had memorised the exact location of each one. Like clocks, they needed to be cared for each day—although an unattended ward could cause far more damage than an unwound clock...
Siobhan
I'm thinking of this comic by Spanish cartoonist José María Nieto again, having first seen it as a meme last year.
"I don't see any reason to be optimistic. What will 2017 bring us?"
"I think it will bring flowers."
"Yeah? How come?"
"Because I'm planting flowers."