Avery
This book (really the two books taken together) is such a bizarre piece of art. Following (very) directly from Hyperion, it weaves together a series of baffling opposites into a narrative that somehow makes them feel necessary.
Slow, then fast. Vulgar, while surprisingly religious. Deeply poetic but truly science fiction. Literally mixing the historical and futuristic.
It's impossible to say much about the second half of the book without spoiler. The themes of sacrifice and love carry through from the first in a way that still has me thinking about them. There's stuff in here that feels incredibly relevant to our current societal struggles with AI.
Was it flawless? Not for me. Thankfully there were fewer tacky descriptions of women's bodies -- my main gripe with the prequel. In Fall of Hyperion, I was quite frustrated at times, as it dragged occasionally and rehashed plot points from the first book. I wish they had been combined, and about 10% shorter, trusting the reader to remember the core events for themselves.
Disclaimer- most of this book makes the assumption that (super)human-level artificial intelligence is not possible within the near future. In this framing, most conversation about it doing so exists to serve solely to further the interests of those invested in the AI bubble. I don’t know that this assumption is as obvious to me as it is to Doctorow, and if you strongly disagree with it, then there’s probably not much in this book for you.
I don’t think I’d have enough patience to work at the EFF, and I’m grateful that there are people like Doctorow who can push on these issues. The legal distinctions made in the book frequently felt inconsistent to me, but I think it’s possible that this is more of a me problem than the book being inaccurate. I just can’t get over “code is speech” being a better reason than “secure crypto is secure” for the government to allow the use of cryptography.
There's a bit that I might need to reread that explains how, while the training inputs may have been stolen, and that theft is bad, the results derived from the theft are fine. This is sort of weird to me. I guess code/creative works are protected, but not “objective facts”, where all of those terms are super vague. I feel like it would follow that if I could get my hands on the model weights (complex but objective statistical facts about the inputs) for Mythos/Opus/etc then I should be able to legally publish them in the public domain? An avenue left unexplored by this book.
One of the book’s ideas for a path through the AI morass is that copyright only applies to works of *human* creativity, and so the result of a prompt should automatically be in the public domain.
This is pretty compelling for stopping the reverse-centaurization of the workforce, but some of the analogies given didn’t resonate with me. Some amateur human taking literally whatever photograph automatically gets copyright for it, but someone who decides to train a monkey to take a selfie doesn’t? The monkey selfie is clearly still an intentional piece of art made by the human who decided to get it to press the button. It's literally a creative human work.
It seems like it’s hard enough to draw a line here that it would be relatively unlikely, without an enormous effort, to draw the line that the prompted input isn’t enough to qualify the result as art. After all, the photographer didn’t place all the pixels, they just pointed their lens at something and pressed “submit” on the camera. Barring that, we might still end up with reverse-centaur employees tasked with tweaking just enough pictures on the outputs to qualify it as human.
Still, I think it’s a valuable endeavor to attempt to develop the conversation here past “pro” or “anti” AI into something a little more nuanced. We can admit that the recent AI developments can be useful for some things some times without saying that all of the ways they can be used would be good for humans. We can think about how to think about their usage such that they don’t destroy society. It’s hard to maintain enough hope that any of this will be possible, given the incredible resources on the side of the tech companies and investors here, but thank you to Doctorow for tirelessly pushing.
Tyron feels too powerful compared to other slayers. Even ignoring his explicitly overpowered ability for magical invention, he has all sorts of feats, abilities, spells. The most other people usually have is high strength or speed.
In fact, Tyron’s status rituals are getting a little out of hand. Concentrating all the decisions together makes them all feel way less important, and combining the new options with the old ones makes it hard to see what has changed. It also starts to feel convenient that his number of selections usually matches the number of attractive options.
That said, it still manages to be a fun ride.
The first few times I considered reading Hyperion I saw it described as a science fictional take on the Canterbury Tales. Me, being an uncultured lump, took that as meaning it would be too sophisticated for me to enjoy it.
Luckily, I eventually dipped my toe into reading the book, and was soon pulled in the rest of the way. Hyperion ended up being a series of short stories from different perspectives, all tied together in a way that gradually develops both the characters and the world. I was impressed by the ability for each individual story to draw me in quickly.
Several sequences describe women mainly in terms of their pale ripe globes and raised nipples, which got kind of repetitive and was hard to take seriously. Other than that though, the stories felt unique in interesting ways and many were emotional. I'm sure there are literary references I missed (might have to go read some Keats now) but I'd recommend it regardless!
Took me a while to get through this one. I was really drawn in by the first book in the series, but had a hard time staying invested in this one.
Maybe there was too much I had forgotten about the first, combined with a feeling that this was all setting up for the next book. It ended up feeling very much like a middle book, stuff happening but nothing resolving.
The constantly switching viewpoints also multiply the number of characters and concepts to the point that they became hard to keep track of. It felt like the minute I was getting into it, the perspective would swap and I'd be dumped back at square one.
The new worlds and concepts are interesting, and some stuff does happen, but at this point I’m not sure that I'll continue when the next book comes out.
Like Utopia for Realists: How We Can Build the Ideal World, it does decent job of arguing a few points while having some room for improvement.
The main flaw for me was the easy assumption Bregman makes that the reader is infinitely qualified to solve the most important problems. I guess it’s a call to arms for the most skilled members of the population to solve the hard problems, but I think it’s an easy out to say “well I’m just regular-skilled”. At least that’s usually the temptation in my case. The book spends a lot of time convincing you that you should help solve the world’s problems without being much of a guide on how to get started, especially if you’re not ready to throw away the other responsibilities in your life.
How do you know whether it’s worth it to re-skill into a domain that might be more useful to society? How best to meet up with other like-minded people so that everyone isn’t just working on the same problems in isolation? How to navigate the tendency for many companies to “green-wash” their business in self-congratulatory language about making a difference and caring about people. I find it easy to get jaded reading company mission statements, and, as pointed out in the book, it’s not nearly enough to simply be a non-profit.
If there was a book that had the same argument as Moral Ambition, but with more clear advice on how to put it into action, I think that would be more effective. As it is, if you agree off the bat, the rest of the book mostly just reinforces that.
I found his treatment of the effective altruist movement somewhat reasonable. Clearly their main philosophy is in line with the message of the book, but the issue is that it’s easy to lose sight of reality when you’re fixated on simple metrics and surround yourself (at an investment bank, say) with people who don’t value the same things. The concept of scamming “regular” people out of their money in order to solve the worlds’ most pressing problems is ridiculed as a failure of this movement, but that actually seemed a little unfair to me. I think it probably deserves a slightly more charitable interpretation, given the priorities in the book. Obviously it’s a pretty risky strategy that does more harm than good if it fails (also true of many humanitarian efforts!). As quoted by Bregman: “We are here, not because we are law-breakers; we are here in our efforts to become law-makers.”
*FINALLY* back in Pallimustus! Good to have the buds all back together, but it felt like kind of an in between book. Pretty sure I'll continue with the series but felt like some filler at times. I do appreciate that we don't have to enumerate every status effect progression every time it happens anymore.
Took a minute to remember what was going on, but the recap at the beginning helped, and soon I was enjoying being back in this world. Easy enjoyable read like the others. I always enjoy the “back to basics” trope that we get a bit of in this one. The Earth arc is what made me drop this series initially, so I’m excited to see what happens next.
The book was alright. Not a hard read but not particularly engaging either. Maybe the AI stuff at this point feels too close to reality to be fun. The interspersed documentary clips didn't do much for me and sometimes felt repetitive. The end threw a couple curveballs, none of which felt meaningful in the end.
Took me a while to get into it, initially feeling like Annihilation with a more academic main character. Eventually though (2/3 of the way through), the Tchaikovsky goodness started to show through in some cool ideas about evolution and ecology. While it had several lines that stood out to me, it frequently felt like they had similar variations scattered repeatedly, like the author was workshopping the idea and couldn't decide which to pick. Maybe a stylistic choice, but one I found annoying while reading.
Had a hard time getting into this one. A bunch of alien species that didn't seem that important. Some space politics. Didn't feel attached to any of the characters.
Maybe the unspace bit just didn't feel like enough after having read Slow Gods, which has a really similar mechanic. To be honest, they're pretty similar books, maybe it's just that I read this one second.
I enjoyed Colour of Magic, especially Rincewind, so I decided to try this book even though I read that this wasn't everyone's favorite arc. It ended up being a more direct sequel than I was expecting, picking up right where the last left off.
Unfortunately, we didn't end up spending all that much time with the characters from the first book, and it ends up spreading itself all over the place character-wise. I ended up not really caring about anyone and had a hard time being pulled in by the remaining narrative. There were some funny moments but it didn't feel worth it.
It's impressive how fresh the third book in the series can feel. Again, I went in thinking I knew what to expect, and was impressed by the new concepts. Even though it's exploring new territory, the core conceptual exploration involving what it is to be sentient continues to be developed.
It's bewildering at times, a little hard to follow, but all comes together in the end.
The blurbs all say it's "Narnia/Harry Potter but more adult". It's definitely derivative, but only "grown up" in that the characters are mopier and preoccupied with sex.
The most redeeming/fascinating plot point that the blurbs miss is that this isn't Narnia, it's a world where the Narnia *and the Narnia books* exist, which is way more interesting. The self reference has the potential to be very neat, but the focus ends up being more on the entitled main characters and who they're sleeping with.
I experienced this book in the main parts.
At first, I was really thrown off by all the strange names and pronouns. Was it performative? It was definitely hard to follow. I then got called out by the book and decided I better try a little harder.
> You can remember the difference between innumerable different types of sausage or sporting teams, but you cannot hold in your mind a mere half-dozen or so categories of people? That must make navigating the nuances of human experience extraordinarily taxing for you.
Halfway through, it was feeling a bit better. The pronouns made sense and were in some cases reasonable and interesting choices that contributed to world building. I started to think of the book as a sort of modern Le Guin Hainish cycle book, by way of Miéville's Embassytown, with a bit of Iain Banks's Culture sprinkled in. That felt like pretty high praise, but there was still something that wasn't sitting right with me. It was dragging in places, or felt a little unfocused. Not sure.
By the end, I started to appreciate the ambition and scope of the book a little better. I found it to have fairly satisfying ending, and wrapped up a lot of what had felt like dangling ends.
In short, I nearly didn't finish the book, and then it gradually made its way to something I would actively recommend. It's a bit meandering, but ultimately explores interesting territory in some interesting ways. A book about the cosmic significance of love.
Very much in line with the other books I've read from this author. In fact, there are some familiar references (antimemetics) and even plot arcs (Ra). Lots of crazy sci fi goodness, if you can keep it all straight. I definitely didn't follow all of it. Needing to connect the dots between all the short stories, jumping characters and timelines didn't help.
Enjoyable and very silly. Didn't think I'd get attached to a colony of ants, and it seems like there's some other stuff behind the scenes that could develop interestingly.
The sections from the perspective of humans were by far the most uninteresting, which I didn't see coming.
I'll probably read the next one soon.
Obviously very DCC-like, which is fun, but the wackiness felt a little less clearly motivated (and less funny). DCC can always fall back on "it's for the views" when something crazy happens. Maybe that will clear up in time.
I liked the weird items, the "dog" character. The main character is alright too.
There's decent depth of mechanics, both in the upgrade systems and the fights themselves. Lots of satisfying variation and possibilities for improvement in different axes. Some meaningful upgrade decisions, which is great. I think that the rarity tier of items ends up getting blown out really quick. Would have been nice for rare things to feel rarer. The combining mechanic kind of ends up broken (for Dan) in this way, I really wish something different had been done there. Democratize crafting!!
The setting was much less SCP/backrooms than I had expected/hoped. It's kind of just ends up being random real worldy settings filled with monsters. I actually saw ads for this book before reading it and they really seemed to be overselling that aspect.
A weird thing is that the core concept (Dan having a store) felt like it was invented before the story was written and then shoehorned in. It doesn't really make sense narratively. Both the motivation for doing it, and the certainty that it will be successful are flawed from the beginning.
Still, I'm reserving the right to see where this goes in the second book.
The writing itself is nice to read, and some of the characters are developed interestingly, but there's a bit of a challenge in the ambiguity and meaninglessness of the events. Had to let go a bit to enjoy it fully, and even then the end didn't land totally right for me.
I got some Roadside Picnic vibes -- I preferred the characters and general writing/development here, though I still think Roadside's setting is way cooler.
I think this book does a great job of providing an accessible and fairly actionable description of what has gone wrong with the Internet and digital products in general over the last decade or two.
There was plenty of stuff that I was expecting, mostly the negatives, but I felt it positively surprised me in a few important ways.
First, the book provides a really convincing description of what laws, policies and events have lead to a world where companies can get away with making terrible products.
It also contained a surprising amount of optimism. The recent progress in the EU, some glowing feedback for the Biden presidency and Lena Kahn, and the potential for using the recent tariff news cycle to repeal anti-circumvention laws globally.
As a tech worker, I went into the book fully expecting to be characterized as part of the problem. It was neat to see this group portrayed as one of the forces pushing against the worsening of digital services. While this leverage is going away, it's great to see it being replaced by such a strong grassroots support for more antitrust work.
I feel there were a number of flaws in the presentation. Mostly it would have been nice to have another editing pass. The fact that much of the content was originally published as essays comes out in the repeated explanation (tolerable) and the reused jokes (less so). It could have been nice to have the block of "case studies" near the beginning spread out a bit. I feel he uses the "enshit" prefix about 30% too often. The description of a "new good internet" felt simplistic but maybe that's ok for a general audience. All that said, the important stuff was good, and that's what's important. Would 100% recommend.
I went through a few phases while reading this book. I initially picked it up because the title resonated strongly with me and I'd seen it mentioned a few times.
After the first few chapters, I started wondering if the title was the best part of the book. A lot of the examples felt like truisms and ideas that sounded good, but were hard to put into practice. It felt hard to see where the author was drawing the line, and sometimes the advice felt plain contradictory. The "would you say this to an adult" gut check frequently fails, with examples like "narrate the conflict as if you were a sportscaster".
Two thirds in, I started to see some patterns that made sense. I feel like in some ways, it does the message a disservice to try and sum up the approach so neatly in the early chapters. Once you've read enough examples, maybe then it makes sense.
I started wondering if this book's advice was just appealing because it went along roughly with what I thought was important in my own parenting. Is it just confirmation bias? I decided that it's alright for parents to seek some confirmation that it's all gonna be ok, and read reminders of the things we care about.
I read the last couple of chapters pretty quickly -- they got a bit repetitive and the "letter to the author" format started feeling like an advertisement for the approach (which, I already agreed with? I mean I just read the book..)
Anyway, would recommend to parents of small children looking for examples on how to gently but effectively navigate their stubborn little minds.
Gradually getting around to consuming some more discworld books.
Quite funny (if a little corny), with some pretty cool world building stuff. I thought the dryad bit was pretty cool.
I would have probably appreciated more of a full story rather than a few loosely connected vignettes. In general, I found the first half more interesting than the later parts.