Currently reading: Bread and Stone by Allan Weiss. Where we last left our hero, he'd shipped off to the Great War in a fit of youthful idealism. It went about as well as you think. One really good and interesting narrative choice here is that the focus isn't on the grinding misery and trauma (though there is plenty of that too) but that so much of war is spent waiting, most people tend to run from gunfire and explosions rather than towards them, and the contribution of a single individual doesn't amount to very much. William experiences the kind of thing I've often felt at protests where you spend a lot of time standing around and don't feel like you've done anything. He returns to a vastly different Canada than he left—too late to say goodbye to his mother, who has died in the influenza epidemic despite being about the only person around who takes pandemic precautions. His father has gone back to the mines and sold most of the family farm, leaving his brother to deal with the rest. His aunt and uncle are cash-strapped and can't find him work. He instead goes to Winnipeg with his pro-union war buddy who promises him work. But times are tough everywhere, and he's instead drawn into movements of unemployed and underemployed workers, both the organizing committee of the general strike, and the veterans association, whose membership broadly supports a strike but whose leadership does not.

This book is immensely detailed—I imagine drawn from primary sources. There was a lot written at the time so someone willing to put in the effort really could get every single bit of infighting and discussion that happened in all of the organizations that were around at the time. It's impressive. It doesn't make for the most action-packed reading, but if you are really interested in the period (which I am) this is better than any non-fiction text I've read about it.

I also quite like how William is not particularly a reliable narrator or an admirable person. He's certainly idealistic, but he's an absolute himbo with a number of blind spots, especially when it regards women and immigrants. At the core of this book there's a very similar sort of debate as we see today—does the left cave to populist sentiments around marginalized groups, or does it stand its ground? (Basically, the returned soldiers tend to be pro-strike but anti-immigrant, which the elite politicians, business owners, and journalists use to drive a wedge in the movement.) The book's narrative comes down solidly on the "stand your ground" side, though...history is history and we know the strike lost.

 It can be no other than Wizards & Spaceships' "Against Hopepunk ft. Nick Mamatas." I complain a lot here about a certain type of book that is very popular right now in SFFH spaces, and has been basically for the past decade (albeit the earlier attempts were more interesting than the publishers' attempts to chase that wave) and yeah. It is not the biggest problem in the world, that the dominant trends in the genres I like do not align to my particular tastes. But. It's still something I enjoy talking about and reading about and listening to podcasts about, and there is no one more qualified than Nick Mamatas, the most cynical bastard in genre fiction (complimentary), to talk about it.

This is less a condemnation of individual authors and their work (in fact, it is not that at all!) but an exploration of why the economic models of the publishing and music industry work the way they do. It's a wide-ranging and I daresay fascinating discussion and Nick is extremely funny. Also there's a lot about 80s post-punk in there if that's your thing (it's mine).

You are not prepared.



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I finally processed these. They're all from St. John's and Ferryland.

( cut for photos )