I finished reading joe_haldeman ‘s Marsbound this morning. I very much enjoyed it, although I didn’t think it was as good as his last few books, especially The Accidental Time Machine. But it’s looking to be the first of a series and the series looks promising. If nothing else, it was good ol’ science fiction, which was what I needed. I realized this when, after I finished, I started in on Greg Egan’s Incandescence, and found myself immediately stymied by the difficulty understanding what the heck was going on. I gave up quickly (rather disappointed since I was looking forward to that book) and started in on Neal Stephenson’s Anathem–and ran into the exact same problem! This made Joe’s book look a lot better in my eyes. At least there I could follow the action and understand what was happening.
So, I turned to my bookshelves and spent an hour or so looking for something that would match the themes of Joe’s book. Nothing. I finally landed on James Morrow’s Only Begotten Daughter. I first read Morrow back in senior year in college (1993/94) when his book Towing Jehovah came out while I was in the midst of a meta-fiction class that, among other titles, included Donald Barthelme’s The Dead Father. I loved Towing Jehovah and read the remainder of the trilogy as it emerged. Strangely, I’ve read several of Morrow’s books around Thankgiving. More than a decade ago, I read his wonderful City of Truth around Thanksgiving, for instance. Years ago, I started reading Only Begotten Daugher, but never finished. This time, I picked it up and it immediately caught fire with me. Nothing like Joe’s book, but it satisfied my craving nonetheless. I managed to get more than halfway through the book before the day was out.
Kelly’s brother and Jen came over today. It was the first time Jason has been to our place. We walked to Shirlington and had lunch at the Luna Grill. Afterward, we came back and for several hours, the four of us played Wii. We played just about everything, but what was most amusing was watching Jen beat Jason in every single game of bowling. No matter how many times he said, "We’re going again!" she’d still beat him.
The rest of the evening was quiet, relaxing. Sitting by the fireplace, reading or watching TV.
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