Red Headed Femme: We're Not Worthy

My Ratings System

Disclaimer: I do not get paid for any of this. I just post these reviews because I like doing it. Anyone and everyone following along, welcome aboard.

One star: Bad to awful; usually don't finish. If I finish a book and label it one star, it's almost always because the ending was so horrid it spoiled everything that came before.

Two stars: Marginal. I generally finish these, but they have significant flaws in worldbuilding and/or characterization (my two main criteria) with just enough good points (barely) for me to tough it out to the end. Sometimes I go into detail regarding these flaws; it depends on how much the book irritated me.

Three stars: Liked, with caveats. A lot of first novels fall in this category. The flaws still exist, but they are lesser, and the promise is definitely there.

Four stars: Really liked. These are books that excite me, with minor flaws.

Five stars: Launching my socks into orbit amazing; hits all my sweet spots. The pacing is spot on, the worldbuilding is logical and well thought out, and the characters have depth. I can usually rave about these books for several paragraphs (and do).

Quote of the Day

"I know some who are constantly drunk on books as other men are drunk on whiskey." ~H.L. Mencken

A fragmented excerpt from The Filer and the Astronaut by Louise Carol:

‘The time has come,’ the Filer said,
‘To talk of many things:
Of pups — and picks — and palimpsests —
Of Cadigan — and King —
And why this movie, cult is not —
And whether trolls believe.’

‘But scroll a bit,’ the Pixels cried,
‘Before you have your chat;
For some of us are full of links,
Oh do not rush so fast!’
‘No hurry!’ said the Astronaut.
They thanked him much for that.

‘A post of fifth,’ the Filer said
‘Is what we chiefly need:
Filking and Punnery besides
Are very good indeed —
Now, if you’re ready, Pixels dear,
We can begin to read.’

‘Pixels,’ said the Astronaut,
‘You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be posting here again?’
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d scrolled up every one.

~Comment from Stoic Cynic on File 770

I wandered lonely as an airship
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a fleet
A host, of modern dirigibles;
Above the lake, beyond the trees,
Floating and dancing in the breeze.
For oft, when at my laptop I browse
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of altitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the dirigibles.

[From Wordsworth’s steampunk phase]

~Comment by Camestros Felapton on File 770

I met a Filer from an antique Scroll
Who said — “Two vast and towering stacks of books
Stand in the bedroom … Near them, novels by Pohl,
And others of a Golden Age, whose frowns,
And uncracked spines, and sneers of cold control
Beckon toward the fan. They lay there waiting, and unread.
Worlds, though built, not yet explored by glance or looks
At pages filled with men of space, who from Earth have fled.
And on the nightstand, these words appear:
My name is Tsundoko, Stack of Books;
Look on my pages, Pixels, and Despair!

~Comment from Bill, on File 770

September 3, 2016

We're Not Worthy

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