Vacuuming a cat requires only one thing: a cat with zero fucks to give. A cat that stands their ground when other cats scatter to the wind. A cat that cannot be yelled at to get down from there. A cat that ignores what he chooses to ignore. A cat that stands athwart. A cat like that will not run when the vacuum cleaner comes out. A cat like that will sit there and dare you to vacuum them. And then not care if you do. Because running away and giving a damn is just too much work. (Also, they might actually enjoy it, but would prefer it if you didn’t tell anyone.)
Goober has always been a cat you could vacuum. That’s because Goober is serene in his own domain: he is only afraid if he gets outside, or is moved into a new home, or goes to the vet. I’m sad to report that he is now in decline: he’s lost a lot of weight and is looking shakier all the time. He turns 16 this month, and we’re not sure how much longer we’ll have him. But he’ll still gouge your knees if you don’t pick him up, and grab your plate away from you if he wants your food—and yes, he won’t budge if you bring out the vacuum.
He’d probably still punch a dog, if a dog were available for him to punch.
io9’s James Whitbrook argues that our obsession with canon—whether a story is an “official” part of a fictional universe—is ruining our ability to enjoy stories, because it values factoids and trivia over storytelling. “It predicates the gatekeeping act of being a fan that is built on how much you know about a thing over whether you actually enjoy that thing or not. It’s an attitude that in turn feeds the equally unruly and constantly growing spoiler culture because a fandom that values pure details above all else puts weight in the knowledge of those details.” True that. (I also think people obsess about canon because, deep down, some part of them believes their fictional universe is real: it’s why they freak out when a show breaks established canon.)
The Broken Sword by Poul Anderson (1954). Influential epic fantasy published the same year as The Fellowship of the Ring, so it’s a Norse-based fantasy that isn’t Tolkien-derivative. Less good at vatic speech than JRRT: it contains 38 uses of the word “quoth”; it feels like more.
Bloodchild and Other Stories (2nd ed.) by Octavia E. Butler (2005). Science fiction short story collection. My first experience of Butler, who’s better known at novel length, so I can’t say what’s indicative or emblematic, especially since it’s also a very short collection.
The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley (2019). Science fiction novel; future soldiers experience time-shifts as their teleportation technology goes awry. Breathtaking, grunt-level, visceral mix of Slaughterhouse-Five and The Forever War. Recommended.
The Bonjour Effect by Julie Barlow and Jean-Benoît Nadeau (2016). Book explaining the conversation codes and rituals in French society. (Speaking the language isn’t enough: I know this from experience.)
Infomocracy by Malka Older (2016). Science fiction doesn’t do politics well, especially democratic politics on a global level: far too many emperors and dictators for my liking. Infomocracy imagines a world-level electoral system; the plot stress-tests the system to the point of failure.
The Quantum Garden by Derek Künsken (2019). Second of a series of quantum-entangled space opera capers set in a universe controlled by Quebeckers from Venus, this one involving time travel. Fun; has symptoms of being a middle book.
Lent by Jo Walton (2019). In real life, Ficino suggested that Savonarola was possessed by a demon; Jo runs with this idea in Lent, a fantasy novel that is basically the Renaissance Florence version of Groundhog Day—which should be enough to tell you whether this book is for you.
About 90 percent of Canadian taxpayers file their income tax returns electronically, but the Canada Revenue Agency would like to remind the remaining holdouts that filing your taxes by paper is just fine by them. Though it’s a bit harder to lay hands on a paper tax package: they’re available at fewer locations (i.e., no longer at the post office), or you can order one, or print one out. People who filed by paper last year will get their tax packages mailed to them, which I can confirm: despite living on the technological edge most of the time, I still do ours by paper for reasons I can’t quite explain or justify.
KitchenAid stand mixers and Le Creuset dutch ovens have become “small markers of stability and sophistication, coveted by young people for whom traditional indicators of both often remain out of reach,” The Atlantic’s Amanda Mull writes, and boy (glances at kitchen) do I feel seen. People delaying marriage and homeownership are upgrading their cheap starter equipment themselves instead of getting them as wedding gifts. As status markers go, though, they’re durable and practical: they may be expensive, but they last.
I have a new lust object: the Leica M10 Monochrom, a digital rangefinder camera with a full-frame, 40-megapixel sensor that only shoots in black and white. There are distinct advantages to going without the usual colour filters, which absorb light and reduce sharpness. This would incidentally make a hell of an astrophotography camera (high-end astroimaging shoots monochrome through specialized filters: you could do that with this but not a digital SLR). Fortunately for me, like all good lust objects this one is unattainable: it costs US$8,300, plus expect to spend as much again on lenses, because Leica.
ChefSteps created a chocolate chip cookie recipe by using the average amounts used in 10 cookie recipes: the average of the amount of baking soda, flour, salt, et cetera, used in these recipes. The result was the best chocolate chip cookie they’d ever tasted. “There is no reason why this should have worked. But this cookie checks all the cookie qualifier boxes in a big way. It’s the perfect blend of chewy, crispy, buttery, chocolatey goodness—it is far more than average.” That’s it: we’re so baking this.
Where we live is a surprisingly lucky place, weather-wise. Storm systems often pass just south of us, meaning that when bad weather hits the St. Lawrence corridor, or Ottawa, it hits us much less severely, or misses us altogether. Or, because we’re a couple of degrees cooler than the city, we get snow when Ottawa gets freezing rain.
That can mean a lot of shovelling, but when you buy a house in your mid-forties, certain things become novel and interesting that others in your cohort got sick of doing decades ago. Shovelling the driveway is one of those things for us.
For the longest time we didn’t have a driveway, or had a parking lot with plow service: all we had to do was shovel out the car and the walk. Now we do have a driveway all to ourselves, and it’s fairly large: about 30 metres long, and wide enough for two cars. And we don’t have a plow service to take most of it away. So we shovel it out ourselves, by hand. With, you know, shovels.
Around here this is apparently evidence that we are off our nuts. People buy big and expensive gas-powered snowblowers to remove snow from driveways half the size of ours. But for the most part we don’t find it all that onerous, especially if I’m feeling well enough to pitch in. When there’s two of us doing it we can usually get it done in well under an hour.
And we try to do it as quickly as we can after it snows. This often means we’re out there several times a week, or even a day. But there’s a method to this madness. If you’re going to shovel the driveway, you have to be zealous about it or there’s no point. Keeping the surface bare makes it easier to shovel the next time, otherwise there’s rough ice and it’s a pain to clear things off. In order to do it easily, you have to do it a lot.
This doesn’t always work, mind. Last year the snow came down so often and so heavily that I threw my shoulder out: it was bothering me for months afterward. Doing it by hand has consequences. So for this season we bought a small, electric snowthrower to handle the heavier snow days. It’s no good on the snow of the kind we had over the weekend (heavy and wet and slushy), but it has come in handy on three occasions so far. It throws the snow further than we can, and that helps keep the berms from getting too steep. While it’s a bit underpowered for what we have, I wanted to avoid a gas model, and the high-powered blowers all run on gas.
And sometimes a combination of wintry mix or freezing rain renders the driveway an unshovelable mass of hard ice, which means we have to break out the ice chipper. On a driveway our size that’s a brutal, multi-day job, one that leaves our arms more or less gelatinous. But the end result makes the next snowfall that much easier to deal with.
DP Review looks at the Stellina smart telescope, an all-in-one “observation station” that serves as telescope (an 80mm ƒ/5 apo refractor), digital camera and self-aligning mount. No eyepieces, just a camera, which can stack multiple exposures to achieve something better than a small scope on a small mount could otherwise achieve. All of these things were available when I was messing around with telescopes a decade or so ago, but not in a single, integrated unit. It took work to achieve results like this; now it takes … $4,000. Ow.
The case for sleeper trains replacing air travel is very much a European thing.1 Flight shame (flygskam) is reducing demand for air travel, and European distances are such that overnight trains are feasible. At one point it looked like the combination of high-speed rail and budget airlines would doom European night trains, but that trend seems to be reversing itself: ÖBB’s Nightjet service is expanding in the face of soaring demand, and other operators are planning to reintroduce sleeper trains.
“I am a spine on fire. I am a collection of joints and bones and tissues that wage war. I am every step in pain. I am not thinking clearly. I am not moving quickly. But I am also not going to be quiet.” It took nearly a decade for Lisa Marie Basile’s ankylosing spondylitis to be diagnosed, a decade in which she had to navigate the usual bullshit about chronic illness—especially about being a woman with chronic illness. I’m mindful of just how atypical my experience was: I was diagnosed in less than six months.
A reboot of the 1997 snakesploitation movie Anaconda is in the works at Sony’s Columbia Pictures, says The Hollywood Reporter, with Evan Daugherty tapped to write the script. “Sources say Daugherty’s take is not a remake or a sequel but a reimagining. While details are being kept deep in the belly of the beast, it is known that the studio is hoping to take a Meg-style approach to the concept.” I have a DVD of the original Anaconda around here somewhere but somehow never managed to get around to seeing it. Should I rectify that?
New from me at Tor.com this morning: “Celebrating Christopher Tolkien’s Cartographic Legacy.” It looks at the collaborative process between J. R. R. Tolkien and his son Christopher as father and son tried to make the narrative agree with the map, and vice versa; takes a deep dive into Christopher’s mapmaking technique; and tries to assess the impact of his maps on fantasy mapmaking.
This piece came from a general sense that Christopher Tolkien’s mapmaking was being overlooked in the obituaries and remembrances posted in the wake of his death last week at the age of 95. I posted briefly about it on The Map Room last Thursday, and then found myself having more to say about it. By the end of day Friday I had nearly 2,000 words’ worth of more to say. Revised it over the weekend, sent it off, and now you can read it.
Featured image: Christopher Tolkien’s map of Middle-earth from The Fellowship of the Ring (Unwin, 1954). The British Library.