Aya Vandenbussche

I previously read Monday Starts on Saturday by the Strugatsky, which is quite different in tone. Picnic is a lot more serious, bleak, more obviously political.

The premise is so unique and sadly still so poignant this day. Aliens visited Earth and left it leaving their mess behind, a mess that we don't understand. Some try to understand if, to learn from it, some try to profit from it, whether they understand it or not, and others want to get rid of it. It's a book about the decay of capitalism, about our inability and often reluctance to understand, to accept that the aliens might not be interested in communicating with us. We try to create meaning, to exploit and milk every last drop of someone else's junk. I'm reminded of Ursula K Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness.

The structure of this book is unique and the language, though translated, is obviously precise and thought of. The story of how the brothers introduced and coined the word 'stalker' into the Russian language. A word that has made such an impression that Tarkovsky called his film based on the book, Stalker. This is the 'profession' of one of the main characters, to go into the zone where the aliens left their trash at a great risk to his life, and salvage alien artefacts. The Strugatskys have taken Stalker from a Rudyard Kipling character named Stalky. In Russian it's pronounced Stullky/Stullker, but according to the Kipling story, it's actually meant to be pronounced Stawky and therefore should really be 'stawker'. I absolutely love this kind of language development.

It is a beautiful book.

Like the absolute maverick that I am, I read this Christmas story during a heatwave.

Once again, Terry Pratchett was playing on my heartstrings with all the emotions. This is the first Discworld book that introduces a genuinely uncomfortable villain. Pratchett really knows how to write evil villains, but like, really evil. Right from the start, Teatime felt eerie and so creepy. Pratchett's talent was, among everything else, in writing villains that get under your skin.

With Hogfather Pratchett continues to explore the idea of belief and its importance. As it turns out, if you take away a belief in something big, i.e., the Hogfather, a space is created for some smaller, excellent beliefs that have been suppressed and pushed aside, which in turn breeds some wonderful manifestations of beliefs.

I love that Death understands the importance of the belief in the Hogfather, and I he's love how unsubtly subtle he's trying to be about solving the situation, and definitely not recruiting Susan.

The book is full of different kinds of imagination and it's quite wonderful.

There is a bit too much of this book that details the different books of the Strugatsky Brothers. I could have done with a bit more in-depth discussion about their influences, the history, folklore, and politics that went into the brothers' books.
That said, there's so little written in English about the Strugatskys that I'm grateful for all that does exist. I learned a lot about soviet science fiction, and it's fascinating. This book opened a door to a whole lot of literature I wasn't very familiar with, and for that I loved it.

In the third book of Earthsea, Sparrowhawk and his young companion go on a quest to save magic. Magic is dying because the door between the world of the living and the world of the dead has been opened, and appreciation, the joy, and the sanctity of life are disappearing, and if life and death become meaningless, the magic will disappear.

Though it didn't have quite the same impact on me as the first two Earthsea books, it is an incredibly powerful and poignant book. The book touches on themes of depression, but interestingly, it's not Ged who suffers it. It is everyone around him who has become dead inside, and has given up on life. Arren is young, and he has hope for the future, he finds the magic, he sees a dragon.

I especially love the dragons. I love how Arren manages to communicate with the dragon despite not speaking the language, and Sparrowhawk is in no condition to translate. Arren and the dragon understand each other because they need to.

The magic was still very much alive for Ursula le Guin when she wrote this beautiful story.

I read a lot of Terry Pratchett, and then I write about what I learned from his books. https://ko-fi.com/ayavandenbussche
Pratchett has a talent for research and turning this research into intelligent, funny and moving stories. His books contain so much knowledge, and they celebrate a joy of learning, which I love. With this collection of non- fiction essays, I learned about his writing and research process, the tragedy of his disease, and his relationship with death.
Pratchett mentions in a few of the essays the impact that Tolkien, as well as others, on his reading. How in seeking to find something like Tolkien, he discovered mythology and folklore, for example. This is similar to the impact Pratchett had on my own reading. His books made me want to know more. They made me want to read more and to learn.

A small book that contains so much. I wanted to revisit Kurt Vonnegut searching for a bit of humanity in these unsettling . So it goes.
As promised at the beginning, there are no villains in the book, which is an incredible achievement. It's what makes this book quite beautiful.
The language is so sharp and to the point, and fits the laconic tone of it. It's a craft. I still think about this book occasionally.

Not one of Shakespeare's great plays. You can tell it's an early one. He tends to forget the location of the play (probably forgot to check the title). There are all kinds of characters' inconsistencies, but it's fun. There are a lot of hints of plays yet to come and great clever language humour.
I really hated Proteus. What an absolute douchebag. I wish he got a bit more of a punishment that he deserves, but then again, I wish for a lot of things.
It is a silly, but enjoyable early Shakespeare that nonetheless provides an insight into the man's talent.

I keep thinking about this book a lot. I log it so much. It has so many layers. I love that reading books is not some kind of magic cure for everything. It's not that simple. You have to learn how to take the time to think and enjoy books. I love that it's a slow process and that not everyone feels it. Books are not magic. It's the effect of reading. It's what the book is telling you, but you can find it elsewhere as well. I will continue to take the time to think about this book.

Maybe I've cried a little...

One of the things that took me by surprise reading the book, and doesn't quite come through on Hitchcock's excellent adaptation, is how much the marriage itself feels like a horrible prison.The real horror is the marriage, the feeling of being trapped and isolated.

The book misleads you on several levels. Written from the point of view of the young new and nameless Mrs de Winter, you see Rebecca through her eyes; a glamorous high society lady of leisure, the perfect wife. Reading Max's point of view, together with Ms Danvers sinister and ubiquitous presence, you'd think Rebecca is the villain.You might be tempted to read Max as the villain, and he's not a great guy, but even he's not really a villain. He is a product of a society, but unlike Rebecca, he has more freedom within it. That's the incredible thing about De Maurier's unique writing.

The atmosphere is incredibly dramatic and haunting. Wild and spacious nature, yet the nameless wife walks in it like she is caged. Isolated, a stranger in her own home, never comfortable. It was an excellent page-turner.

Stephen King writes in the introduction to this edition that we have been so exposed to other people's interpretations of Frankenstein that by the time we get to read it it might disappoint us, or will be difficult to complete. This might be true for some, but I had a different experience.

This book is so much more complex than I initially expected. It is not about one thing, it has so many layers and depth, and it has more than one story. There is the story of Frankenstein and the creature, the story of Walton on the boat, the man who records Frankenstein's story and his pursuit of knowledge. There are so many other little stories interwoven into the Frankenstein story and it creates this incredible tapestry, a world.

There are people who think this book is anti-science. I don't really see it. I think this book is about the importance of parenting, about taking responsibilities and about the importance of love and care. My takeaway from Victor's story was different than his own. I do not necessarily think he should not have made the creature, I absolutely think he should never have abandoned it. It would have been a different story.

I know that this is meant to be one of the seminal Gothic fiction out there. I can't say that I am an expert or that I always understand what is meant to be Gothic, but I can say that this book is incredibly atmospheric, dramatic and brilliant. This specific edition is accompanied by illustrations from Bernie Wrightson, who was the artist of Swamp Thing, and the illustrations are just gorgeous.

I can probably write an essay about this book and maybe one day I will. But for now, I will just say that to me this book is a masterpiece.

Maybe it is because my love of films has been fading, or maybe because this book is a bit overloaded and a bit on the nose, it's n not in my top Pratchetts from my read.
I ended up a bit indifferent towards the characters. The only ones I really cared for were the dog, and Gaspode's end has made me very sad. It's not a bad book, as always, there are some cool ideas and great writing and language, but it's not got that Pratchett magic.

Probably 3.5
I love the Marx Brothers, and I love Harpo. There were times when I found the book a bit hard going, I'm not into croquet, or card games, or the high society shenanigans that much, at times it felt a bit over indulgent, incredibly American dream like in an uncomfortable way. But then there are also incredible moments, like his childhood and how he grew up, his and Susan's adopting and their attitude towards it. Harpo's visit to Russia sounds astonishing, and I love the casual way he writes about it. In the end, it's what his son Bill wrote about him that got me in the heart.

It may have been 2.5. This is not one of the best from Pratchett and also not the best of the Rincewind books. There was something quite unsatisfying about it, in terms of character development. Eric was and remained an annoying little boy. The relationship between Death and Rincewind remains under explored, which is a real shame because the opening of the book suggested that that was where the book was going. The book is also slightly bogged down by too many myths parodies and refs without any real meaning to it.
There is still some great Pratchett stuff. Some felt like they were Douglas Adams' influence, but in a good way and, as always, clever language and some excellent ideas, mostly towards the end of the book.

3.5, probably.
I have thought about this book a lot, which I guess is a good sign. I liked the writing and the atmosphere. I liked that the book presents itself as one thing, but it has quite another undercurrent. But I didn't love the characters, and at times, it found that I was angry/ disappointed, especially with Elizabeth, the main character. I almost nearly hated her. Upon further thought, I realised that it's OK not to like the main woman. It's OK that she's a bit shit because some women are sometimes, they're allowed to be.

I came to this book because of a podcast, which normally I really like listening to, but going back and listening to the related episode after reading, I found myself quite annoyed with their discussion of it. They seem to say that John Cole is a good guy and that Jennifer, his daughter, was awful. They also found the scene of the ex-wife passing out into her good, extremely funny. I found it quite heartbreaking. I'm not sure that Jennifer, with an alcoholic mother, the cause of her alcoholism remains unclear, and a father who's dating and marries a woman exactly the same age as her, is not within her rights to be a bit of an ass to her dad and his trophy girlfriend. In fact, I think her behaviour is understandable and relatable. It is hard to say if the intention was to make John Cole a ‘good guy' like they seem to think he is in the podcast, largely they like him based on what he reads, or to make him feel uncomfortable like I felt he was, throwing money at everything and everyone. Not only did I dislike him, but I felt he made Elizabeth a dick as well, her leaving Alice, knowing that she was unhappy, the second Cole clicks his fingers. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I'm reading this through modern eyes, but to me, John Cole is definitely not the ‘good guy' far from it. Maybe that's just my reading. Maybe it's open to interpretation. I don't know, and perhaps that is what is really good about this book after all.

It's not amongst my favourites from Pratchett. It's a bit messy, and I'm not sure what I think of the ending and of some of the characterisations. It's almost more disappointing than the earlier, Colour of Magic, etc. Because at this point he has already written Equal Rites and Mort, which are superb, so this is a step down whereas Colour of Magic is a beginning a seed of things to come. Nevertheless, I always enjoy Pratchett's writing. It is one of a kind.

I wasn't planning to write about Dune because usually I don't like wasting my brain and my vocabulary discussing things I don't like. But, every now and again I feel like taking the old rant lady out for a spin, see if she's still  got it. Besides, rant- writing is quite easy.

There seems to be a bit of a bro-culture tied up with the Dune books, and it vexes me. It feels very much like a bro-book. I know the ladies have read it and some even love it, and yet this book and the discussion around it has given me such strong testosterone vibes, that at times I considered running away from it towards a bear 🐻



Whenever I express my dislike of Dune, which to be fair happens more often than I care to admit and is probably good for me, is usually followed by a disharmonious chorus of bros (and sis') telling me I didn't get it, probably because I didn't and won't read the rest of the books in this series. They then continue to explain at me in great length, almost like the book itself, what I didn't get about this book and why, what Frank Herbert really meant, and let's not forget all about the all important world-building, because it's all about world-building baby! 🙄🙄🙄



You know what bros, you're probably right! I am but a silly little woman, I carry the name of a concubine, but history will remember me as a wife. So I am probably too busy with whatever that means for my life to comprehend what the great Frank Herbert meant. 🙄

Nevertheless, I am gonna reck my tiny concubine/wifely brains and booksplain to you why is it that YOU BROS didn't get Dune and what Frank Herbert really meant! 🙄🙃



OK, let's say I didn't get it, and really all the misogyny, classicism, exoticism, homophobia and animal cruelty, is all a plot devices and if I just read a bit more of his books,  Herbert will backtrack on all of that in the next books... sorry not backtrack, of course not, I mean, he totally carefully planned to lay the ground for a great subversion of all of that later. I just can't see it. Just like George Lucas definitely planned Star Wars as nine parts all along, I believe him, just like Herbert believed him when he said he was not influenced by Dune. I trust you bros I do.



But the world- building you say. I guess you mean the appropriation of some exotic faraway religions and cultures that are not Christianity or western cultures, the same kind of ‘fascination' Victorian literature was into? All these natives that are one with the desert, they're so magic right? 🙄

World-building usually means showcasing good research skills. It makes some readers so impressed they form a religion around it. World-building displays hard work and craft. Great writers make it seem effortless, natural, beautiful. It's not just about showing off your research, or appropriation skills, it's about how you use words to do it intelligently and make it interesting.



With Dune Herbert seems to want to create a modern Shakespeare, including the convoluted politics, epic wars, and emotions filled soliloquies. Except he lacks the sense of humour, essential quality in any respectable world-building! I do not wish to enter a world without sense of humour! He also lacks the language skills, and the imagination that made Shakespeare a master world- builder. What he achieved instead, is a badly written, pompous and pretentious book, full of the kind of dodgy politics that gives off a bit of an Elon Musk stench.



Frankly, the book is mostly boring, and it takes itself so incredibly seriously. The soliloquies are quite possibly the worst kind of writing I have encountered, barring Dan Brown, and the only purpose they serve is to take me out of the story and make the already barely tolerable characters quite intolerable.
The characters read like generic outline of trope characters, their i inner voices do not help.




I think I heard somewhere that eventually Paul becomes a ridiculous desert wormmaid, Jabba the Hutt kind of hybrid creature, which does, I admit, sound almost hilarious enough to make me a bit curious. Except I have a sneaking suspicion it was written with the same grand self importance, pompous seriousness and no humour as this book was written with. So I think I'd rather leave it as a funny image in my head and not go through Herbert's tedious and endless writing to find out. 

It wasn't quite what I expected. I really liked the first story, but the second one was a bit weak. I felt that Jessica turns to the Avengers too often and too quickly. Sometimes I wished she did a bit more detection, and try to reach a solution on her own without intervention from the Avengers, or Shield or whatever. I like her lack of self worth, but at the same time I bet frustrated. The second story also feels a bit messy, too many unexplained things going on at the same time. That said Jessica is a great character and this is a good cost volume of her story.

This is not one of Pratchett's great books. It drags a little, there are some redundant characters that add nothing, and it just doesn't quite flow as well as his best books. However, I enjoyed reading an early work of Pratchett, I like following the evolution of ideas and writing style. Also I really like Rincewind, an endearing character.

This is such a page turner. I've watched the season that correlates with this book and I still found myself engrossed and tense. I love all the little details, the complex politics, the characters. It's really quite wonderful.

Had the option been available, this would have been a 3.5 stars.
I am not a great fan of nostalgia unless it is done in a clever way. I find nostalgia to often be misleading and easily manipulated. Nostalgia is often used as a tool for erasure and/or romanticising things that really shouldn't be romanticised. In my old bitter cynical age, I do not find myself filled with longing for childhood. My childhood was OK, there were great things about it, but there were also awful things about it. Tbh, I think I am doing childhood better as an adult, really.
Try as I might to make allowances for the time it was written, it is still difficult for me to accept this view of women as nothing but mothers, and who want nothing but to be mothers and have nothing else to offer the story. This gets even less forgivable when there have been the Brontes and Jane Austen, as well as Alice in Wonderland. I can't help feel that it's all a bit creepy. Furthermore, as another reviewer pointed out, the fathers are somewhat sidelined.
So what's so good about this book, you ask?
Well, it's actually very dark, and reading a bit about the tragedy that brought upon this book, it actually becomes quite a heartbreaking book. The writing is beautiful, sweeping, and highly effective. And the humour is surprising and really quite clever. It is not without beauty. Indeed, there are elements to nostalgia that are beautiful and charming.

I missed comic books. It's good to be back.

This is not just a book about death and identity. It is, as often is with Pratchett, a book about writing, which closely ties in with identity. It is about thinking and writing your identity.
As I progress the Discworld books, I see how Pratchett evolves and develops, much like his characters his identity as an author develops through his writing.

I was listening along to the new penguin audio production. This book is excellently read by Sian Clifford with Peter Sarafinowicz as Death and Bill Nighy doing the footnotes. It is a bit unnecessarily overproduced. Sian is superb. My one quibble is the voice she does for Rincewind, which I'm not sure about. But she's a wonderful reader, and I would listen to her again. Sarafinowicz is also excellent. I particularly enjoyed one sentence that Clifford and Sarafinowicz split between them.

The edition I read was a Folio edition and very fancy indeed.

There are some interesting elements of history and folklore to this book, but there is a lot of mystification of womanhood and the female period, which I really hate for many reasons; one of them is that not everyone who experience period is mystified by it, some of us hated it. Another reason it feels like a penetration of certain female bodies. You don't get this level of penetration of the body with any of the male characters. I dislike the idea that period is somehow empowering or knowledge giving or has some kind of mystical powers. It is a very narrow view of women and women's bodies. The vast majority of the women in this story are a type of mothers and daughters. They barely have any other personality traits. The one woman who has a bit more to her doesn't get much attention.
Apart from that, I did not like or relate to any of the characters, they were infuriatingly annoying, and nothing really redeemed then in my eyes.
Finally, I pretty much predicted the so-called ‘mystery' early on, and it just felt a bit disappointing.

Much like the spaceships on the planet Karn, this book was crumbling in my hands as I read it. I think the novelisation is somewhat better than the TV story, which is amongst my favourite from Tom Baker. The opening description of the alien trying to escape the ruins and getting caught by Condo is chilling. Sarah's blindness feels like it lasts longer and is quite disturbing. The battle between the Doctor and the Morbious monster reads a lot more challenging and difficult than on TV and the Doctor's interaction with the Sisterhood, which comes across as incredibly sinister in the book, is better, more complex and interesting. Also, the characters of Sarah and the Doctor read better, and some of the things that annoy me on the TV show do not stand out as much in the book.

I have minor irritations with the fact that Sarah just falls asleep suddenly in the middle of the action. This could have been actually quite funny, in a Harpo Marx kinda way, but alas it is not written like that, instead she comes across as someone who can't handle things and is a bit useless and therfore benched. I'm also not a great fan of this Doctor's constant joking about and his being somewhat disrespectful, an attitude that often characterises Tom Baker's Doctor, but admittedly is relatively mild in this novelisation and is less irritating as a one off story. I would have also liked more description and world building of the ruined Karn to give it more of an atmosphere. But these are all minor things, and the book is a great little gem.