Brin's latest, Kiln People, is sort of a cross between Raymond Chandler and Derek Parfit, if that means anything to you. (Not a lot goin' on at Parfit's homepage, but he's always got that 'a less threatening Peter O'Toole' thing goin' on.) As I was saying: I'm a Brin fan - really liked the Uplift books; thought a lot of others were very respectably OK - but I've never put him on the same level with Greg Bear, that other Killer B. And Kiln People - a detective novel? But with lots of body-switching? What's that about? I was worried he wouldn't really have anything to contribute to a rather well-worn genre (except for the body-switching part). And as to the body-switching, I even suspected it might just be an insufficiently distinct variant on last year's Altered Carbon, which really just hopped on the bandwagon with Gun With Occasional Music. Nope. Really great, truly original novel. Bunch of thumbs up. Thought the ending sort of dragged a bit, though. One of those mind-blowing ones. You know the type, maybe. (Like at the end of Stephen King's It? When the demon rolls out its giant tongue? Pennywise was creepy and got to us. Credit where credit is due. But the demon was a tongue too far. Something a tad similar here.) - John Slavok Zizek's new book, On Belief, is so bad, I just had to write a whole essay about it. Because that's the sort of guy I am. - John Robert Service's biography of Lenin. Tsarist criminal justice was surprisingly easy-going. To be sure, Lenin's brother was hanged, but that was for trying to kill the Tsar. (Tsarism is against that.) Young Lenin got sent to the equivalent of Siberian Club Fed. Very pleasant, except for the mosquitos; (but half of my vacations are that way). I guess it's sort of a conundrum for repressive governments that aren't rich enough to spend bazzilions on state-of-the-art penitentiaries: what to do with someone that you're not quite mad enough at to hang? That's what I've learned so far. - John Isaiah "I just can't go a day without saying 'Herder'" Berlin's lectures on The Roots of Romanticism. Delightful. - John Whimsical apocalyptics, from two - Pratchett & Gaiman - who know which end of a pen is up. But not as good as either American Gods or, for that matter, any the Discworld novels. Ah, well. Sum less than its parts. But so many parts that the sum is still. . . pretty big. - John Nury Vittachi's Feng Shui Detective is funny, has excellent mysteries, and is set in Singapore. Feng Shui master C.F. Wong (who, I predict, will be played by Victor Wong in the moive) and his teenaged Australian assistant even eat stringhoppers. - Belle Buh! - Zoë Truer words. - John Simian: We Are Your Friends They thank Brian Eno for 'loan of toys'. So. . . what sorts of toys do you think Eno plays with? That gives some idea. Sort of Os Mutantes meet the White Stripes at a New York Disco in 1978. Nah. That's not right at all. Maybe: the Strokes meet Supergrass and kick them in the Shins. Nah. That's totally not it. Good, though. (Their website isn't so exciting; kinda got a bluescreen-thing goin' on.) - John Beth Gibbons & Rustin Man: She used to be half of Portishead. Now she's got a Marianne Faithful-thing goin' on. Good. - John
			We started here. . . But we ended up here. . . When we get around to it, we'll tell you all about it.