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A Genteel Black Hole

Tag: book reviews

  • Bookish Ramble: City of Illusions

    Ally

    Title: City of Illusions
    (Hainish #3)
    Author: Ursula K. Le Guin
    Year: 1967
    Country: USA

    Format: Paperback
    Pages: 158
    Read: 15 – 21 March 2026
    Reread

    My Hainish series read-through continues with City of Illusions, first published in 1967. (You can also read my reviews of the first two books: Rocannon’s World and Planet of Exile.)

    An exhausted, terrified stranger emerges from the forest. His eyes are yellow, cat-like and alien, his memory a complete blank. The forest people take him in, teaching him their language and naming him Falk. He lives happily with them for six years, coming to think of the place as home, but questions of his past still linger. Who was this man before he was Falk? Where is his forgotten home and how did he arrive on Earth? Who erased his memories and why? Falk sets out westward to rediscover his true self, taking him gradually towards a mysterious city inhabited by an elusive, powerful people known as the Shing.

    City of Illusions is Ursula K. Le Guin’s third novel, the third part of her Hainish series, and for me it’s the strongest of the three. Le Guin continues to hone her skills, crafting more memorable characters and more evocative prose than before. (The first sentence is only two words long and I found it a more intriguing opening than either of the first two books.) The mysteries of Falk and the Shing kept me engaged throughout, and I enjoyed seeing the connections gradually emerge between the first three Hainish books. It’s a satisfying read that also strengthens what came before it.

    Le Guin herself, in her foreword to a later reprinting of the novel, expressed dissatisfaction with the Shing as obvious, uninteresting villains—a character type she generally avoided in her work, preferring to explore more complex themes than hackneyed ol’ Good vs Evil. I can see what she means, but I still enjoyed the book on its own terms, unencumbered as I am by the author’s own artistic vision. Yes, Le Guin would soon go on to better, deeper things, but that doesn’t make this book an artistic failure. I really enjoyed my time with it. City of Illusions may not be Le Guin’s finest work but it certainly set the stage for it.

    And, once again, my enjoyment was enhanced by the group reading experience hosted by Gareth (Books Songs and Other Magic). So far I think we’ve all agreed that City of Illusions is the best of Le Guin’s first three books—but everyone seems even more excited for the next entry in the series: The Left Hand of Darkness.

    But before that, keep an eye on Gareth’s channel for a livestream discussion of the first three Hainish books.

  • Bookish Ramble: Maigret Sets a Trap

    Ally

    Title: Maigret Sets a Trap
    (Maigret #48)
    Author: Georges Simenon
    (Translated by Siân Reynolds)
    Year: 1955
    Country: Belgium

    Format: E-book
    Pages: 176
    Read: 9 – 16 March 2026
    First reading

    There’s a serial killer on the loose. Once a month or so he strikes in the Montmartre area of Paris, randomly stabbing a woman to death. DCI Maigret hatches a plan to lure the killer out of hiding. He stages a fake arrest and interrogation, tricking the local reporters into declaring the killer caught. Now, with plainclothes WPCs walking the streets of Montmartre as bait, Maigret hopes the killer’s next victim will be one who can defend herself. But will the plan work, or has he just sent an unwitting officer to her death?

    This is Georges Simenon’s 48th Maigret book but my very first. I’ve been meaning to try Simenon for a while but he’s so absurdly prolific, I never knew where to start. Luckily the decision was made for me when I found this ebook on sale for 99p—and I really lucked out! Turns out this is one of the most popular Maigret books, subject of multiple screen and radio adaptations. And I can see why.

    Maigret Sets a Trap is a gripping story of the hunt for a serial killer, and a psychological study of what drives him to kill. Ultimately it’s a portrait of toxic masculinity—of a weak, pathetic man trying to reassert himself by lashing out at women. If I had read this in my teens I might have dismissed it as outdated. Now, with the rise of the Manosphere, it feels disturbingly timely.

    Simenon’s writing style is simple, spare, but vivid. He captures his characters and their surroundings in three dimensions. It’s a quick, unpretentious read, but far from a shallow one. I’ll definitely be reading more Maigret.

  • Bookish Ramble: Lord of Light

    Ally

    Title: Lord of Light
    Author: Roger Zelazny
    Year: 1967
    Country: USA

    Format: Paperback
    Pages: 284
    Read: 1 – 11 March 2026
    First reading

    An alien world is ruled over by the Lords of Karma, Hindu gods with legendary names: Brahma, Kali, Vishnu, Krishna. But they’re not the true gods. In fact they are the First—human settlers who have colonised the planet. Their technology, so advanced it looks like magic, imbues them with the power and immortality of gods. The Lords of Karma abuse this power to reinstate the old caste system, placing themselves at the top, and imposing upon the planet a perpetual Dark Age. At every turn they are opposed by Sam, a fellow First who has rejected godhood. Sam assumes the role of the Buddha and, in various reincarnations across the centuries, spreads his message, slowly and patiently building a resistance movement. But is it enough to defeat these ruthless self-made gods?

    I was excited to read Lord of Light, having recently fallen in love with Roger Zelazny’s short stories. But Zelazny is a literary chameleon, his writing style ever shifting to fit the story, and Lord of Light is one that just didn’t click with me. On the surface it’s a religious myth, an epic tale of cruel and capricious gods. But that mythic tone is an ornate veil, concealing behind it a more rational, more “sci-fi” explanation. At first I was enjoying the process of peeking behind the veil, trying to glimpse the real story. But about halfway through I started to tire of it, and my enthusiasm never really recovered.

    For one thing, it’s hard to keep track of characters’ identities. Colonists often get reincarnated, taking on the mantle of different gods in different chapters. This made the whole thing feel quite disjointed to me, something compounded by the overall structure: Every chapter feels like an individual short story, each one centuries apart. (Two chapters were actually first published as short stories.) I love both novels and short stories, but for me “a series of interconnected short stories” is a hard sell. I had similar problems with A Canticle for Leibowitz—another beloved sci-fi classic with religious overtones.

    While I do appreciate ambiguous storytelling, Lord of Light is a dense text with very little space for interpretation. It felt more like something written in code, its one true meaning stubbornly obfuscated by Zelazny’s ornate, mythic prose—for “metal lotus” read satellite dish, etc. I found it an oppressive experience, and ultimately an exhausting one.

    That said, I do look forward to recording a discussion video with my friend Gavin from Genre Books. We buddy-read this as part of Gavin’s Century of Sci-fi project, in which he’s reading a sci-fi novel for every year of the last century. I get the impression he liked the book more than I did, so maybe he’ll be able to show me some of what I’m missing.

  • Bookish Ramble: A Sorceress Comes to Call

    Ally

    Title: A Sorceress Comes to Call
    Author: T. Kingfisher
    Year: 2024
    Country: USA

    Format: E-book
    Pages: 336
    Read: 24 February – 9 March 2026
    First reading

    Evangeline is a monster. She’s a powerful sorceress with the ability to make people “obedient”—to control every muscle in their body, using them as unwilling puppets. This horrific spell is most frequently turned against her terrified and isolated teenage daughter, Cordelia. But when Evangeline goes in search of a rich husband, it puts Cordelia in touch with some new friends. Could they help her escape her evil mother?

    A Sorceress Comes to Call is a dark and creepy retelling of a relatively obscure Grimm fairytale. I haven’t read The Goose Girl, but a quick glance at the synopsis suggests that this is a very loose reimagining. Evangeline is an extremely disturbing villain. The scenes where she puppets Cordelia made my skin crawl, as did some of the Lovecraftian horror (involving an uncanny horse) towards the end of the story. But it isn’t all Doom and gloom. The supporting characters provide some much-needed warmth and humour, especially the enchanting Penelope Green—and, later, her ghost. (Er, spoilers, I guess.)

    This was my third T. Kingfisher book, and probably the best so far. She creates a distinctive blend of uncanny horror and irreverent humour. It’s maybe slightly longer than it needed to be, but otherwise a very enjoyable and engrossing read. I can’t say her style is a perfect fit for me, but in the end I always find myself willing to try another one of her books.

  • Bookish Ramble: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

    Ally

    Title: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
    Author: Philip K. Dick
    Year: 1968
    Country: USA

    Format: E-book
    Pages: 208
    Read: 10 – 21 February 2026
    Reread

    Rick Deckard, proud owner of an electric sheep, is a bounty hunter for the San Francisco police. His targets are androids, escaped slaves who have killed their human owners on Mars and fled to this bleak, post-apocalyptic Earth. Deckard must track down the androids, using the Voigt-Kampff empathy test to discern android from human, and “retire” them. But is Deckard a match for these superhuman androids? And just how reliable is the empathy test anyway?

    I first read Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? in my early teens, having first seen the film adaptation, Blade Runner. I adored the film and watched it repeatedly. I remember being surprised by just how different the novel was. Revisiting it for the first time in all those years, I am once again surprised. This is a book stuffed with interesting philosophical and sociopolitical ideas, most of which were only hinted at (or outright ignored) by the makers of Blade Runner. I found it a fascinating, thought-provoking read.

    The setting is a future Earth, one where animals are all but extinct; owning a real, live animal is prohibitively expensive and therefore a status symbol. Failing that, one can keep up with the Joneses by purchasing a realistic electric animal, such as Deckard’s fake sheep. Deckard and his wife maintain the facade that their sheep is real, but they cannot care about it as deeply as a real creature. It simply doesn’t provoke the same empathic response. Similarly, Deckard feels no compunction about “retiring” androids. After all, they don’t count as people… do they?

    The Voigt-Kampff test (like in the film) measures a subject’s empathic responses to a set of hypothetical situations. Those who lack the proper response are revealed to be androids. But this is a poisoned Earth where humans are prone to developing cognitive disabilities. Such people are labelled “specials”—marginalised, banned from emigrating to Mars, despised and abused by humans and androids alike. And there’s a risk that a special could fail the Voigt-Kampff test and be mistakenly murdered by Deckard or his colleagues. Ultimately specials are seen as subhuman, just as unworthy of empathy as the androids Deckard is hunting. As a disabled reader myself, I found that theme particularly engaging.

    The novel’s dominant religion is Mercerism, in which humans can merge electronically with a martyr figure called Mercer and literally experience his suffering. But when Mercer’s authenticity is called into question, so is the validity of that experience. People can also use a machine to dial in the emotion of their choosing—including the desire to use the machine itself. If something so patently artificial can provoke real emotional responses, does that lend it a certain legitimacy after all? In our current age of chatbot therapy and AI-generated “art”, it’s increasingly clear that the answer is no!

    My only gripe with the book is a few moments of Male Author Syndrome: Women’s bodies, whether human or android, are frequently described in a little too much detail. Otherwise this is a fantastic novel. It’s a gripping, engaging, thought-provoking read. It works both as a hardboiled detective thriller and a piece of deeply philosophical sci-fi. I’m eager to read more Philip K. Dick in the coming months.