The Language of Liars, by S.L. Huang

Feb. 24th, 2026 08:42 am
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Review copy provided by the publisher.

This is a novella with a whole range of aliens with different language features, wildly different environments, etc. Several of my friends just stopped reading this review to go pre-order or request that their library do so. You are correct, if that is the sort of thing you like, this sure is that thing.

What it does less successfully, I think, is the twist ending. I feel like this is a book that is for people who like science fiction about aliens, but for me, as soon as I knew the premise, I knew the ending, and I was correct. So if you're reading for the aliens, come on in; if you're reading for a clever twist you did not see coming, this is not that novella, that is not where Huang spent time and energy.

Alun Harries 1956-2026

Feb. 20th, 2026 08:55 am
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Alun Harries, one of my dearest friends, has died after a fall at his home. It is shocking news and I can't fully process it.

I met him in April 1984 on my very first international trip. I was staying with Linda Krawecke and Greg Pickersgill in London prior to traveling to Newcastle for Mexicon 1. My hosts gave a party where I met Alun. We were both 26, a bit younger than the rest of the crowd. The next day we drove to Newcastle, a trip I really have no memory of other than there were six of us in the van. It was an amazing convention and I met a lot of other lifelong friends there. I stayed in London afterwards for two months and continued having an amazing fannish time until I ran out of money and had to return to San Francisco.

I was desperate to go back, but I wasn't earning much so I couldn't actually get there until the 1987 Brighton Worldcon. Meanwhile, I exchanged handwritten letters, mix tapes and fanzines with Alun and all my other fun British friends. He introduced me to a lot of bands I had never heard of and couldn't find in my local Tower Records (and some I could, of course). I felt so cool and hip listening to those tapes on my Sony Walkman waiting for my BART or bus home and wishing I, too, lived in London.

He achieved international fame within fandom when he and four of his best buddies were dubbed The Chicken Brothers by Linda in a fanzine article. I went to the housewarming of his new place in 1987 or 1988, I no longer remember as the years really blur together now. I went to the UK as often as I could and much more frequently after I became a travel agent. He is entwined with the best times of my youth and we never lost touch. The last time we saw one another in person was at the 2014 LonCon Worldcon. We took my favorite photo of us, an iPad selfie that made us look like louche grandparents recalling their dissolute and racy past and warning our grandchildren not to follow in our steps. It cracks me up every time I see it.

He was smart, hilarious, kind, principled, and willing to say what he meant. He was also a curmudgeon from time to time. He loved films, science fiction, a broad range of music, and had many close friends. He was single most of the time I knew him, smoked like a chimney, enjoyed traveling (the story of he and Nigel Richardson talking each other into going to a titty bar in New Orleans brought me great joy), and took me to the only tiki bar I've ever been to in London. I swear I'll find some of those photos, it is truly a fantastic memory that should be shared.

All over now, Alun dear. Thank you for being in my life. We had such a good time.

Latergram: the LonCon photo, August 14-18, 2014. Beware, children!
Photo by Alun on his iPad, London 2014

Books read, early February

Feb. 18th, 2026 10:47 am
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[personal profile] mrissa
 

Moniquill Blackgoose, To Ride a Rising Storm. I'm usually a second book person, but this one took a minute to win me over. I think the bar was set so high by the first one that when the second one felt like "more of the same," I was disappointed. It is, however, going somewhere, and it finished up with a bang, and I am very excited for the third one. (But where it finished with a bang was more like a starting pistol. Do not expect closure here. This is very much a middle book.)

Lila Caimari, Cities and News. Kindle. A study of how newspapers evolved and influenced the culture in late 19th century South American cities, which was off the beaten Anglophone path and rather interesting, especially because the way that snowy places were exoticized pretty much exactly paralleled how these cities were exoticized in snowy places.

Colin Cotterill, Curse of the Pogo Stick, The Merry Misogynist, and Love Songs from a Shallow Grave. Rereads. And this, unfortunately, is where the series ends for me. I enjoyed Pogo Stick, and then the other two had mystery plots that were "serial killer because tormented intersex person" (REALLY STOP IT, these books came out in the 21st century, NOT OKAY) and "bitches be crazy, yo" (WELP). The mystery plots are not nearly as central to these mysteries as one might expect of, well, mysteries, but on the other hand they are integral to the book and not ignorable and I am done. When I read this series previously I endured these two in hopes that it would get better again, and now I know it doesn't. Well. Five books I like is more than most people manage.

Jeannine Hall Gailey, Field Guide to the End of the World. I still resonate less with prose poems than with other formats of poem, and this had several, but it was otherwise...unfortunately apropos, a worthy companion in our own ongoing ends of worlds.

Tove Jansson, Moominpappa's Memoirs. Kindle, reread. Charming and quirky as always, with some hilarious moments about memoir that went over my head when I was small.

Laurie Marks, Fire Logic, Earth Logic, Water Logic, and Air Logic. Rereads. I still really enjoy this series, but on the reread it was quite clear to me that water is very, very much the weakest element here, no contest. The water witches are not really portrayed as people, nobody with water affinity gets to be a character, they're very much the "oh yeah I guess we have more than three elements" element in this series. Water is the element I connect with the most strongly. I still like this series, I still think it's doing really good things with peace being an active rather than passive state and one that has to be made by imperfect humans--more unusual things than they should be. As with the Cotterill books above, the fact that it was a reread meant that I couldn't keep saying to myself, "Maybe there'll be more on this later," because there won't, the series is complete. But in contrast to the Cotterill it was complete in a way I still find satisfying.

Alice Evelyn Yang, A Beast Slinks Towards Beijing. This is a family history novel with strong--in fact integral--fantastical elements, but only the realistic plot resolution is satisfying, not the fantasy plot at all. The fantasy elements are required for the plot to happen as portrayed, there's no chance they're only metaphors, but they only work as metaphors. Ah well. If you're up for a Chinese family history novel that goes into detail of the horrors of both the Japanese occupation and the Cultural Revolution, this one has really good sentences and paragraphs. But go in braced.

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