shanaqui's reviews
1148 reviews

Karl Johnson's The Loki Variations digs into the character of Loki -- not specifically the Norse god in his original form, nor Loki just as portrayed by Tom Hiddleston, but Loki as an overall concept. Pretty much what it says on the tin, in fact: he's looking at the varied ways people have portrayed and enjoyed Loki's character, and what he's meant to people. 

It's nice to read something that takes pop culture seriously, because -- regardless of how ephemeral or unimportant it can seem -- it's a great reflection of what's on people's minds. Johnson talks specifically about Loki's queerness, which is linked to how difficult he can be to pin down: he's not your typical Asgardian (in any incarnation), he's not exclusively bad or exclusively good; he slides past definitions adroitly.

(A sudden thought: given the red hair and general inclination to mischief over evil, I wonder if Good Omens' Crowley, as portrayed by David Tennant, is technically a bit of a variation on Loki himself. In some ways, no, but something of Loki's instinct for self-preservation, adaptability, and unwillingness to be pinned down and defined does ring true for Crowley as well.)

Anyway, it's a slim book and doesn't go into enormous depth, but it's written with a love for Loki and an appreciation for popular culture that I very much enjoyed.

James Coe's The New University is a book very much of a particular moment during the economic and social recovery from COVID in Britain. Some of the policy concerns have moved on since it was written, but there is something still relevant here: the issue of what universities are meant to be doing, from how they relate to the local businesses around them to how they contribute to the economy, and how they should be funded.

I find it odd that Coe discusses things like providing flexible learning, and fails to mention the Open University even once. Many of the things he describes as being things universities need to do have a pioneer in the OU, and it isn't some upstart flash-in-the-pan newcomer. It's been established for a long time now and it's doing many of the things Coe thinks that traditional universities should do. I wonder if he's just blind to the OU because he works in a traditional university? Contemptuous of what the OU does and the value of its qualifications? I'm not sure, but it's a strange omission.

Coe is very optimistic about universities and what they can give to the country. He does touch on what they offer to individuals as well, to some extent (in part through his own nostalgia for his time at university), though it's very much about what universities can do on a broader level.

It's interesting, but obviously dated already, and containing some odd omissions. Also, like the other Inklings book I've read, it does need a better proofreader.

Lucy Worsley's Agatha Christie tries to examine Agatha Christie and her work with affection and respect, but without taking her own words about herself too seriously. She considered herself to be basically an unworking lady, a homemaker in our terms, a wife. She wrote compulsively and prolifically, without ever admitting that she was a serious writer. Given that her work has enduring appeal, and a certain amount of influence, it's worth examining her life a bit. Not just the things people know about her (the famous disappearance), though Worsley covers that too, but her whole life and all the relationships that influenced her.

I have to say that I didn't really know much about Agatha Christie herself, other than that she'd dispensed medications during the war, and the disappearance. I knew more about her work, but didn't have that much experience with it (I read The Murder of Roger Ackroyd when I studied crime fiction during my first degree, and at some point read my way through the books featuring Miss Marple, but remember little about them). It was a surprise to meet (through Worsley) a woman who generally had a gift for being happy -- at least as she grew older and met her second husband.

As you'd expect from her work, which I've now been reading via Serial Reader in the last couple of months, she wasn't always a nice woman. She could be pretty racist and anti-Semitic, she wasn't a great mother to her own daughter, she could be an awful snob, and regardless of how sympathetic you feel toward her reasons, it's possible she tried to frame her first husband for her murder. Worsley doesn't endorse that view, and there simply isn't real evidence either way, but it's something people have believed to some degree or another since it happened, something which rings tantalisingly true for a woman who specialised in writing murder mysteries and thrillers. 

Overall, Worsley does a fairly good job of giving us Agatha Christie as a whole person, a woman who was wronged, a woman with faults, a woman who could demonstrate a wealth of generosity. Contradictory and flawed, as we all are.

Francis Pryor's Stonehenge: The Story of a Sacred Landscape is a good summary of the current consensus around Stonehenge, inasfar as I understand it. It's not really much of a step forward from Mike Parker Pearson's book on Stonehenge from ~2012, which is probably a good place to go if you want something in-depth.

Still, it's presented beautifully here, with photos, art, coloured maps and plans, etc, and it does a good job of condensing down what we know and how we know it, and theorising from what we do know about the reasons for Stonehenge's building, the phases of activity there, the traces of those who built there, etc. It discusses Mike Parker Pearson's theory that the people who built Stonehenge built in wood for the living and stone for the dead, and makes that pretty clear (though I think there's supporting evidence he chooses not to discuss that would firm up that point).

However, I do keep in mind with Francis Pryor that he does deliberately cherry-pick sources that agree with him (he's said as much, explicitly, in Britain AD), so it's important to read him sceptically.

Jean Menzies' All The Violet Tiaras is quite short, more a long essay than a book really, which means it doesn't waste much time, plunging straight in to discussing the modern takes on Greek myths, and the way that queer people in particular have adopted and adapted them, seeing ourselves in them, etc.

Menzies discusses some books/stories I was aware of, and some I wasn't, which means I now have a little wishlist of books/stories I want to look into (oh no). I think she handles well the line between what we think of as queerness now and how identities worked in Ancient Greece, without trying to project that kind of thing backwards.

It is a bit weird to have a book that so relies on Twitter/X as an institution that @usernames are included just like that (not "@username on X", just "@username"). It feels especially weird for a book published in 2024, as X crumbles and every week there's a new spurt of users heading off to Mastodon, Bluesky, and other alternatives. This might look very strange in a couple more years. It already feels weird to me; not having used it for two years makes me very conscious how inessential it actually is. The book could also use a solid proofread.

A while ago I read a history of bread in the US, and found it fascinating, which means that there were some things that just weren't surprising in Kathryn Cornell Dolan's Breakfast Cereal: some of the same ideas circulated around plain wholemeal cereals and bread, albeit in slightly different ways. What I hadn't really appreciated was how very much the modern boxed cold cereals originated from the US, and how ubiquitous they swiftly became: it was really surprising.

The title Breakfast Cereal might suggest Cornell Dolan's talking about boxed cereal only, but actually she also discusses older and more traditional cereal-based breakfasts (porridge, congee, etc) as well. That said, the real focus is really the boxed cereals, and it's fascinating that despite their global reach, that is pretty much a US story. Sometimes I quibble about that with the books in the Edible series, where they discuss US history way more than "global" history -- but in this case, it seems that the US really was an origin point.

It's funny to think about how cereal has evolved, and that (like bread) it's actually a point of contention in terms of health, nutrients, emotional importance, etc, etc.

A slim book, as with all in this series, but interesting.

Bitter Waters acts by way as a coda to the full length novels in Vivian Shaw's series about Greta Helsing, the doctor who treats monsters (vampires, barrow wights, ghouls, etc). In it, she and Varney are married (with Emily staying at Dark Heart as well, still studying to become a vet), Ruthven and Grisaille are settled together in London, aaaand someone brings a young, newly-turned vampire to Varney for help, kicking off a (shortish) adventure to discover just who would turn a child into a vampire, and also what should be done about her.

It features most of what I love about the series, with Ruthven's need to help people, Varney's burgeoning interest in caring about people, and neat tie-ins with existing monster literature. This time, we even get to see Dracula himself...

It's short and sweet, and there isn't much by way of action. I wouldn't really recommend it for someone who doesn't already know these characters -- but for those who do, it's a nice revisit.

The Object Lessons series hasn't always lived up to my hopes, with books that seem more like autobiographies than examinations of a type of object. Stewart Lawrence Sinclair's Space Rover blends the two: there are definitely highly personal chapters, talking about the people who influenced him, and surprising connections to the space program and the space rovers, but he does also discuss the process of creating the rovers, the pitfalls, and the work they've done.

He also tries to ask -- though not really at very much depth -- why we create these rovers, what they do for us, and what they mean to us. I think the answers are complicated and he just touches on a few, rather than being exhaustive. In a way, he only briefly touches on how personally involved we get with the rovers, except that the book itself as a whole is a symptom of that fascination.

Personally, I think that one reason we identify so much with the rovers is that they can be our eyes and hands in a place we could not survive. It's easy to identify with being the eye behind the camera: more than an astronaut can (having a personality, politics, opinions, needs), a rover can get out of its own way and personify all of us.

Agatha Christie's The Secret of Chimneys is one I'd tried to start before, but hadn't got into at the time -- I think because it just felt convoluted from the start. This time, reading it via Serial Reader, I enjoyed it rather more: Cade and his irreverent tone, Virginia and her lively curiosity about life (and reluctance to accept conventionality for the sake of it), and poor Lord Caterham, forced to host political meetings because of the traditions around his house (leave the poor man alone).

There are a few points where she really bucks the stereotypical trends in mystery stories, e.g. when Cade confides some of what's going on to Battle, cutting through a lot of suspicion to clear up some of the webs of mystery (which only sharpens interest in other aspects, of course). There were several turns that were clearly intended to be surprises which I found very obvious, but it was still fun to see how things come to light.

In a way, the romance isn't very different to that in The Man in the Brown Suit, but the difference in point of view and a touch less focus on it helps; it still feels abrupt, but I found it significantly less annoying. (I suppose it also helps that they meet under somewhat different circumstances, too.) I'm also reading a biography of Agatha Christie at the moment, and I think it's right there's a touch of her first husband in some of her protagonists, Anthony Cade included.

Anyway, an enjoyable mystery.

A lot of engagement with Christianity. I liked it well enough while reading the poems, but now I'm trying to think of a favourite or pick out something I liked, and my brain is quite blank.