Category: Ann Leckie

Random Anniversary 4: My Brain

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Almost two years to the day since my brain last celebrated the end of a journal, a sign that me and my brain need to work on spending more time with our journal and less time on Twitter. But the gratification from Twitter is instant, while the journal is more of a slow burn, and present me always needs cookies right now, all too often to the detriment of future me.

What happened in these two years documented in a little purple notebook that I got in Singapore? Who knows?? The notebook in question is tucked away in my Toronto apartment, while my brain and I are here in Tokyo. Recent happenings that are most certainly included in the journal include interpreting at TIFF in September and for author Hideo Furukawa last month (reasons why posting here has been especially light), but further back than that, and my poor memory grows hazy. I was in Japan a lot last year? Maybe? I lectured a bunch of hapless university students in America about gender in translation? I had some birthdays and my body continued its relentless march towards our inevitable decline? (more…)

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Ancillary Justice: Ann Leckie

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Oh the neglect! With the flying over the ocean and the deadlines for paying work (I love writing about books, but it definitely does not pay the bills. Or for anything at all, actually), I have had no time for typing out my noodle-y thoughts on the many books that I have been reading. Because, of course, deadlines and international moves be damned, I will read books. In fact, I noticed today that I have five different bookstore point cards, all of which I have used since I got to Japan a mere three weeks ago. The brain wants what it wants.

But this book Ancillary Justice is not one of those point card books, but rather one I shoved (tenderly and kindly because I love my books and would never hurt any of them) into my carry-on bag for the long flight to Tokyo. It’s been sitting on my shelf for a while and it seemed like the perfect plane reading; story driven with a little extra character meat on its bones. And I wasn’t expecting to write about it because one: it won some pretty serious awards and got some crazy good reviews from other people, so it doesn’t exactly need my rah-rah to help get it off the shelves and into hands. And two: plane books are not always the best books to talk about. I mean, you enjoy them, you get what you get from them, and then you move onto the next thing. Not every book needs a thousand words about why it is pretty great. But this one ended up being so much about so many things so dear to my heart that I feared my brain would simply burst if I didn’t get some of those thoughts out.
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