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missroserose) wrote2020-12-09 01:01 pm
Wednesday reading, sunny day edition
It’s a beautiful sunny day today, which might not seem like that big a deal except that we’ve had a string of of those brooding dark iron-grey days where there’s little difference between noon and twilight, other than night coming even earlier than usual. So for all that it’s only supposed to last for a day or so, I’m glad to have the break.
What I’ve just finished reading
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, by Aleksander Solzhenitsyn. I note right off the bat that the day Solzhenitsyn relates to us is a pretty good one, all told—the various gambles our title character undertakes in order to find minor alleviations to the privations of camp life (swiping an extra bowl of oatmeal at lunch, for instance, or hiding away a hacksaw blade in his mitten despite the threat of solitary confinement if it’s found during searches) all pay off, and he manages to avoid the ever-present threat of violence from either the guards or the other prisoners. It’s a clever approach, as it both keeps the narrative from becoming unreadably depressing (it’s not hard to imagine what life is like on the less-good days) and also shows exactly how close to the line many prisoners live, as such tiny things bring such intense pleasure.
That said...I think I’m supposed to admire our protagonist’s scrappy resourcefulness and determination to continue under such unforgiving circumstances—and I do!—but the strongest emotion that his story stirs in me is grief—there’s so much human potential being wasted in these camps and for such objectively ridiculous reasons. I think that might ultimately be where I have trouble with so much Russian literature—culturally, so many of their stories involve people at the mercy of their environment, whether the harsh natural environment or the harsher artificially-constructed society. And they either struggle against it and are miserable, or find some way to exist within it and find a measure of peace. Whereas I, being by nature more of a big-picture person, just sort of sit here shaking my head and thinking but it doesn’t have to be like this...even though I realize that’s beside the point. For those people living in that world, it does, because there’s nothing they can do to change it.
I find that a very uncomfortable place to be in, mentally, which probably explains a lot about how tough I’ve found it to exist in America in 2020.
What I’m currently reading
Tender Morsels, by Margo Lanagan. This is definitely the sort of story that gives you pause before describing anyone’s “fairytale life”. The stark and terrible realities of Liga’s life under the thumb of a cruel and controlling father, and then later as a woman unprotected, are softened a bit by some truly lovely prose that gives equal weight to the little poetic moments of beauty as to the deeply-engrained awfulness. I appreciate the focus on Liga’s internality, as well—it does a lot to make her a character in her own right, rather than simply a victim.
Gideon the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir. I’m about a fifth of the way in, and while the plot’s taking a little bit of time getting started, I am absolutely living for Gideon and Harrowhawk’s chemistry. The sheer and utter loathing they harbor for each other, despite having been thrown together by circumstance, practically throws off sparks—I’ve found myself giggling maniacally more than once, which is probably disconcerting when I’m listening via headphones. (Props to the audiobook narrator too; she clearly relishes these characters just as much as I do.) I’m genuinely uncertain if I want this to be an enemies-to-lovers story or an enemies-to-world-shattering-nemeses story or some combination of the above; I may not be sure where their relationship (or the story) is going but I’m completely convinced it’s not going to be boring.
What I plan to read next
Honestly, I’m not sure right now; I’ve got a lot on my plate for the next couple of weeks so I have a feeling my current books will keep me occupied for the next week or two. Still, there’s no shortage of books in my TBR pile...
Fanfiction spotlight
“Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea”, by porthos4ever. After the events of Dark City, Daniel Schreiber finds himself in the not-entirely-uncomfortable role of potential check to John Murdoch’s godlike powers. But as his feelings grow, so does the complexity of the role he’s assigned himself. Can love really exist when you hold the key to your near-omnipotent beloved’s destruction? But without it, wouldn’t the imbalance of power tear the relationship apart?
If you know me at all, you know I adore complicated love stories, where the space between genuine affection and manipulation is grey and vast, and the balance of power tips back and forth unexpectedly. This is a beautifully-written example—I love the way their growing trust allows them to navigate the choppy waters of their dynamic. And I’m pretty sure there’s a very indirect reference to an early-2000s pop song in there, which I feel slightly smug for having picked up on.
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Solzhenitsyn wrote about the gulag because he thought it could be changed. (That doesn't mean he thought that Soviet authorities would in fact change anything, but he knew that not changing things was a choice they were making to preserve their power, not the inescapable hand of Fate.) The Soviet writers who didn't believe that change was possible didn't write about prisons at all - why bother tangling with the authorities?
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