Time slipping away, on a Tuesday, round about the same time in the pandemic

I’m seeing if I can work up a functional review of The Hood. Not written one of those since I stopped reviewing for Locus back in 2002 or so.  I used to kid myself that I’d go back to it, but other things overran that.

Today was all about the day job, some project work, and working out what to read next. I thought it would be Iain M. Banks’ Surface Detail or Martine’s A Memory of Empire. Turns out I’ve fallen into Tade Thompson’s new one, Far From the Light of Heaven, which I’m enjoying. Space opera is funny stuff. Stories of maritime adventure and global empire tossed into a sky they’d never fly in.

I find myself, possibly post Stan Robinson’s Aurora, unable to believe in any meaningful form of human space travel – it seems empty and unlikely and something we don’t have time for – but there are things in these stories I love and that offer us something. I’ve said space opera has become epic fantasy, and there’s truth to that. After all, in some ways, Kate Elliot’s Unconquerable Sun is a cousin of Shelley Parker-Chan’s She Who Became the Sun. Hmm. Maybe Gary and I should talk to them about that. Also, the opening of A Memory Called Empire is awfully similar to the opening of Foundation. And so, we dance.

Anways, that’s Tuesday. Time for a little more whisky and reading, and then bed.

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