I had John Crowley’s Little, Big in a to-read list for ages. I have finally read it. I didn’t like it very much.
It’s a novel about the people who live in this impossible house in an off-brand united states, starting around the end of the 19th century and spanning decades into the 20th. It’s about faerie and the City, and finding a destiny, and it was boring. I don’t mind books without a plot if I can sink my brain into the characters but none of them grabbed me. So I ground my way through waiting for some of the layers that were accumulating to pay off, but they never did.
It’s a little disappointing and I wonder why I wanted to read it in the first place. Must have been on a list or something. For something in a similar setting but with plottiness I’d recommend Felix Gilman’s Half-Made World duology instead.
I read Ed Brubaker’s Captain America: Reborn at the library in Pott’s Point, a fairly seedy red-light and backpacker district of Sydney where I spent my first week. I liked the idea of reading something so patently North American in Australia. I was wearing a baseball hat and spouting of hard Rs the entire time. Sadly, that’s about as much fun as I had with this story.
See, Captain America was killed a few years ago, as happens to superheroes. And of course, he came back. This was the story of how he came back. See, he wasn’t shot with a regular gun. It was a time gun that sent him skipping through his own past (the line “Captain America is unstuck in time” did make me smile in the way you do with the recognition of a meme) so the Red Skull could take over his body. Whatever. I only knew the basics of Captain America (and the fact that he’d been killed a few years ago for defying the superhero registration act) and for me this story was boring and I didn’t care.