(no subject)
Oct. 3rd, 2007 08:40 pmToday has been catch-up day. It was supposed to be sleep-day, but there's too much to catch up before I can sleep. My lounge, for instance, now has over 100 books waiting for sorting and putting away. I want to read and re-read before I put them away, but Kenny convinced me that this was not practical.
I forget what else I've done - the books have swamped them all. Friends may borrow them, if they like. If you come round before they're away, it will save me having to find space for them immediately and we'll both be happy. My moral today is never put off to tomorrow what you can put off till the day after.
Right now I'm reading a book by Kate Constable, but I can't tell you about it because if I did the Aurealis convenor would have to kill me. Or you. No, not really. We all put restrictions on ourselves when we're reading books for specific purposes. Sometimes it's not giving out spoilers and sometimes it's not giving out opinions before shortlists are made. This is the latter.
Apparently I'm to be flooded with books next week for judging almost immediately, but right now I just want to read my new secondhand Avram Davidson. I adore Avram Davidson.
I adore lots of these books. After the charity auction at Conflux (which I missed due to other obligations) Kenny and I went through the boxes of books that no-one had wanted. What we found there were a ton of hard-to-get slightly dated exceptionally wonderful speculative fiction. Avram Davidson isn't the only author passed up (and some of his stories have been reissued recently, so maybe there's hope for the rest). There was Arthur C Clarke and H Beam Piper and some older Ian McDonald. There was a Suzette Hagen Elgin I've never ever seen before, and some Joan Aiken and both Brian Aldiss and Roger Zelazny. I ought to be grateful for the blindness of others, because some strange gaps in my library are filled.
I ought to be, but I'm not. How could a convention of SF writers and editors and fans miss the rarer volumes? I love new books and new writers, but I refuse to let these authors fade. If anyone wants to borrow them, they get a cup of coffee or tea and maybe some chocolate-covered macadamias when they return the books, just so's I have someone to talk with. And anyone who wants to catalogue my library gets permanent borrowing rights. Access to Suzette Hagen Elgin and Avram Davidson is not to be sneezed at. Nor are chocolate covered macadamias.
I forget what else I've done - the books have swamped them all. Friends may borrow them, if they like. If you come round before they're away, it will save me having to find space for them immediately and we'll both be happy. My moral today is never put off to tomorrow what you can put off till the day after.
Right now I'm reading a book by Kate Constable, but I can't tell you about it because if I did the Aurealis convenor would have to kill me. Or you. No, not really. We all put restrictions on ourselves when we're reading books for specific purposes. Sometimes it's not giving out spoilers and sometimes it's not giving out opinions before shortlists are made. This is the latter.
Apparently I'm to be flooded with books next week for judging almost immediately, but right now I just want to read my new secondhand Avram Davidson. I adore Avram Davidson.
I adore lots of these books. After the charity auction at Conflux (which I missed due to other obligations) Kenny and I went through the boxes of books that no-one had wanted. What we found there were a ton of hard-to-get slightly dated exceptionally wonderful speculative fiction. Avram Davidson isn't the only author passed up (and some of his stories have been reissued recently, so maybe there's hope for the rest). There was Arthur C Clarke and H Beam Piper and some older Ian McDonald. There was a Suzette Hagen Elgin I've never ever seen before, and some Joan Aiken and both Brian Aldiss and Roger Zelazny. I ought to be grateful for the blindness of others, because some strange gaps in my library are filled.
I ought to be, but I'm not. How could a convention of SF writers and editors and fans miss the rarer volumes? I love new books and new writers, but I refuse to let these authors fade. If anyone wants to borrow them, they get a cup of coffee or tea and maybe some chocolate-covered macadamias when they return the books, just so's I have someone to talk with. And anyone who wants to catalogue my library gets permanent borrowing rights. Access to Suzette Hagen Elgin and Avram Davidson is not to be sneezed at. Nor are chocolate covered macadamias.