So this week I’m reading The Yellowstone Conundrum, by John D. Randall, in which Old Faithful really blows its top. Hilarity ensues. No, wait, not hilarity. What’s that other thing? Oh right. Disaster.
So this week I’m reading Boneshaker, by Cherie Priest, in which the release of rogue technology destroys much of Seattle and unleashes a toxic gas, known as the Blight, that kills most things it touches, and reanimates some of those things as the living dead. In other words, it’s just like the launch of Windows ME.
So here I am still reading The Black Mountain, by Rex Stout, months after starting it — not because it’s a long book or because it’s a slog but because it’s made of paper, and if I attempt to read a paper book anywhere near Saya the Mighty she will try her best to steal it and shred it, and we can’t have that, now can we?
So far I would characterize this book as steampunk, but it’s steampunk that’s sort of been filtered through a Hayao Miyazaki “Kiki’s Delivery Service” meets “Howl’s Moving Castle” kind of sensibility. It’s cute, but don’t go in expecting something like The Difference Engine.
Lucretia was pulling some monster-like weeds that held a death grip on a pretty climbing rose when Mr. Trotters came belching and bellowing steam in her direction.
She sat back on her heels and regarded the steam-pig.
The steam-pig regarded her back.
“Lost your pipe again, Mr. Trotters?”
The steam-pig burped smoke and she sighed. “Come along then, we had better find it before you blow up.”
Mr. Trotters is, literally, a steam-powered mechanical pig. There’s also a miniature clockwork animal orchestra, a lemur (pictured on the cover), an owl (also pictured on the cover). It’s a veritable menagerie of natural and artificial creatures! And speaking of menageries, our old friend Bob seems to have encountered one, over in the world of Television Man …
Once Bob fired the shotgun, it was pretty much pandemonium. A half-dozen of the little monsters went down, but the rest of them rushed him in a mass. He blasted them again, sending black blood and umber fragments flying in every direction, but the next time he pulled the trigger it just clicked. Empty. He hadn’t even thought to look and see how many shells the gun could hold, let alone how many it contained.
So this week I’m reading Devil’s Lair, by David Wisehart, in which William of Ockham — yes, thatWilliam of Ockham — goes in search of the Holy Grail. And how does one find the Holy Grail? By retracing the steps of the narrator of Dante’s Inferno, of course!
So this week I’m reading — or rather, re-reading — The Golden Spiders, another entry in the Nero Wolfe series, by Rex Stout. The spiders in question are not Spiders from Mars, but rather, an unusual pair of earrings worn by a woman in a car who asks a squeegee urchin to call the police. Hilarity (and, of course, murder) ensues.