Total orderings

We hates them, precious.

Some people are set up from childhood for total orderings: "Gina is my first best friend and Tina is my second best friend, so you're only my third best friend." I am not that person. I never was that person. I have the kind of life where I don't have to be that person. This is not accidental.

However, sometimes total orderings are demanded, and Hugo Award voting is one of those situations. So I'm thinking about which books are better than which other books. So far I've read three of the five novel nominees. I'm working on the fourth, and I read the first book in the series for which the fifth is second this weekend (got that, or do I need to add more numbers?). So far, the ranking is clear.

However. The book in my current third position was...drab. Mediocre, bland, blah. And I suspect that at least one of the two remaining books will have both higher and lower spots than the current #3.

So what would you do? Would you rather have a book that never ticks you off royally, never makes you want to scream, never seems to just be stupid -- but also never really excites you in a good way, either? Or rather: in what ways are lower-lows so off-putting as to balance out higher-highs for you? If the characters are gorgeously drawn but the plot, when poked, makes no sense? If one of the characters, with apparent authorial approval, spouts some bigoted or otherwise ill-informed notions (and at what length)? If the ending is tacked on and awkward and unsatisfying? Where does mediocrity pass up failed attempts at something better?

(Also, did you know it's my birthday a week from today? Birthday birthday birthday!)

(I do not play the game where I test my friends and family to see if they remember. If I wanted to play Memory, I'd get some cards and have Miss Siri play with me, since she's about the right age. What I want to do is celebrate my birthday. It's much more fun this way.)

Ambition and Miscellany

It has occurred to me that I don't really care what an author was trying for. If I'm in their writing group, sure, because I'm trying to help them get closer to their vision. But once a story or book is published, I am no longer obligated to give a damn about what they hoped to accomplish. This cuts both ways: I don't feel that I have to cut a book slack for (as my mom says) sucking pond scum if its author can mutter about his/her grandiose visions. But I also can enjoy a book if its author intended it to be the Great American Novel and it is instead a fun piece of entertainment. I'm allowed to bring my own standards to the reading experience -- I am not bound to accept the author's.

I don't think intent and ability correlate all that well in this field, is part of my deal. There are people who can talk about the wonderful things they're going to do in the novel they're going to write someday when they get around to it, when the excuse list dwindles.

For some strange reason, pegkerr kept showing up in my dreams this morning, telling me to hurry and get to it. What it was is not yet clear, nor why Peg when I don't really know her. But I wouldn't want to be unpleasant, so I hurried and got to it. And now I seem to be hurrying and getting to adding things to my to do list.

One of which is picking up a package at the post office. I love birthdays.

Finished writing "Docile Bodies." Freakin' finally. Also finished reading the Hugo-nominee short fiction.

The plumber is supposed to fix the outdoor hose faucets tomorrow morning, finally, after an unsuccessful visit last week. None too soon, as it's sticky here, and the yard could use watering. The Hungarian peppers are a lovely yellowy green. The herbs are going nuts. There are iron sculptures in town tomorrow and Wednesday for Aquatennial, and my aunt Mary's paintings are up for the rest of the month in the Thrivent building, so if we can get downtown, there'll be art to see. So I hope the plumber hurries.

Is 26 supposed to be a hormone roller coaster age for women on a par with 14 or 15? I'm just asking....