06 February 2019

Review: Star Wars: Dark Times: Parallels by Randy Stradley, Dave Ross, and Luis Antonio

Comic trade paperback, 118 pages
Published 2008 (contents: 2007-08)
Acquired August 2008

Previously read September 2008
Reread December 2018
Star Wars: Dark Times, Volume Two: Parallels

Script: Mick Harrison
Art: Dave Ross, Luis Antonio
Colors: Alex Wald
Lettering: Michael Heisler

Here's my original review of this volume from October 2008:
After reading the first volume of Dark Times, I was a little tepid-- another Jedi on the run dealing with the Dark Side? Quinlan Vos, Ferus Olin, and many others have been there and done that. Fortunately, the second volume has confounded my expectations-- said Jedi is not even a character even more! Instead we get Bomo Greenbark and the crew of the Uhumele, just trying to make their way in the strange new world that is the Galactic Empire. The best thing about this book is the sense that somewhere, somehow the world has gone horribly wrong, and our poor heroes can't do a thing about it but try to make it until the next day. Greenbark rocks, and the rest of the Uhumele's crew is growing on me, especially Crys and Ratty. (The ship has a few too many crewmembers, but Harrison seems to have recognized that, as this story kills several of them off!) There's also a side story about K'Kruhk. It's always nice to see his sweet hat, but it's otherwise pretty forgettable.
This is not too dissimilar from my thoughts on rereading. I perhaps liked it slightly less than my old review indicates, as the story is more action-y and less atmospheric than would be optimal. Probably this is partially due to the replacement of Douglas Wheatley on art by Dave Ross and Luis Antonio. I don't know which of the two draw which parts, but one of them is more cheesecake-y when it comes to the main cast's lone human woman. On the other hand, I liked the K'Kruhk side story more; it felt tense in that I genuinely didn't know (and didn't remember) if the kids he was trying to protect would survive. (The previous volume had a kid get eaten, and in Revenge of the Sith kids get murdered, so clearly nothing is off limits for Star Wars at this point.) I do like Bomo a lot.

05 February 2019

Star Trek: The Destiny Era Prelude: From History's Shadow

So, at a certain point I started to fall behind when it came to Star Trek novels. While I used to read them avidly as they came out, I slipped further and further behind, especially when it came to what I've come to think of the "Destiny Era" books, those novels set after Nemesis, the chronologically final part of the canon. Though I have read almost a hundred Star Trek books over the past seven years, the last Destiny Era novel I read was Titan: Synthesis by James Swallow, way back in February 2010! I've been keeping a list, of course, and now I'm nearly fifty books behind. I've read the set-up of the Typhon Pact in Destiny: A Singular Destiny, but never actually read the Typhon Pact novels themselves; I basically left off just before they got started.

Now, finally, I'm going to start tackling that list. I said I'd be starting with the Typhon Pact novels, but that's not quite true. There are some books set before Typhon Pact: Rough Beasts of Empire that I think will provide some context and set-up and otherwise tie into the Destiny Era stuff, so I'll start with them, beginning with:

Mass market paperback, 388 pages
Published 2013

Acquired December 2016
Read June 2017
Star Trek: The Original Series: From History's Shadow
by Dayton Ward

1947-96, 2268
There are certain subgenres of Star Trek episodes: the studied-by-omnipotent-aliens story, the planet-of-the-hats story, the estranged father story. One I'd never really given much thought to before picking up From History's Shadow is the "secret history" subgenre of Star Trek: Vulcans giving us vel-kroh (Enterprise's "Carbon Creek"), aliens guiding us through the 20th-century Cold War (the original's "Assignment: Earth"), 29th-century technology giving us the microprocessor (Voyager's "Future's End"), and so on. From History's Shadow, like its literary predecessor The Eugenics Wars by Greg Cox, expands on those episodes to present a whole story of 20th-century secret history. For James Wainwright, this novel begins just after the events of Deep Space Nine's "Little Green Men" in 1947 and ends with the events of the original's "Tomorrow is Yesterday" in 1969 (plus a 1996 coda based around "Future's End"), threading its events into episodes like "Carbon Creek" and "Assignment: Earth" in between. It's not all references, though, as Dayton Ward works in a new alien race, the Certoss Ajahlan, who are combatants in the Temporal Cold War working to rewrite Earth's history in order to prevent their own destruction.

On the one hand, it's clever and fan-pleasing how From History's Shadow weaves all these references together, emulating what The Eugenics Wars did with the later parts of the 20th century. I appreciated the return of Mestral ("Carbon Creek" is one of the better Enterprise episodes) and I've always loved Roberta Lincoln andvI find the Aegis tantalizing. And the intricacies of the Temporal Cold War always have a certain appeal as well. Ward comes up with a compelling, seemingly unified history. Also interestingly, this book almost creates a secret history's secret history, revealing that behind-the-scenes there was more going on in "Assignment: Earth" than we were told on screen.

But I found that the story often lacked energy. Big chunks of time periodically pass, and I don't think they always do so in elegant ways; there are a number of scenes where Wainwright sits around thinking about things that have happened, things which sound more interesting than the things that are happening. The rise and fall of his department seems key to this story, but it's glossed over more than it's explored. I particularly wanted more of Wainwright himself. This is a man who's dedicated himself to a cause for over twenty years that's wrecked his personal life, but up until the very end, I had little sense of his own inner drive. His emotions and motivation always seem muted. A determination to discover the truth could have provided the unity that this kind of transhistorical epic needs. But the novel lacked cohesion, coming across more as a series of disparate incidents. I did really like Wainwright's last two scenes; his confrontation with Captain Christopher and his recognizing Voyager on the television give us a window into a man obsessed and pushed around too long, but up until then there'd been little hint of what made him go.

I'm also uncertain about the 23rd-century interstices on the Enterprise. I get why they're there, but at the beginning of the book they lack incident (it's a lot of Kirk and Spock talking to people) and dissipate momentum of the main story. They also give away some of its revelations: it's okay for a reader to be ahead of a character, but information from the frame story puts the reader too far ahead of the characters on some occasions. If we knew as little as Wainwright did, this might have made his investigations a bit more compelling. I did like how the Enterprise segments wrapped up, but it took too long to get there.

Continuity Notes:
  • Some post-foreshadowing here: Kirk and Spock mention a mysterious Commodore Antonio Delgado in connection with the Temporal Cold War. I assume we will hear more about this man in time travel stories going forward.
  • Probably some savvy fellow could put or has put together a Gary Seven/Roberta Lincoln timeline. This novel predates Roberta's trip to the 23rd century in Assignment: Eternity, but here she seems a little more au fait with the Aegis agent lifestyle than I remember from Eternity.
Other Notes:
  • Much of the action in this novel takes place at Wright Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio, which is just over an hour from where I grew up. I have fond memories of the airplane displays there, which I saw many times as a child. I never noticed any Ferengi shuttles or Vulcan probes, however. There's not really any local color beyond names, though. (Does Jim Wainright like Skyline chili? Or is he more of a Gold Star man? Does he root for the Reds? Or does he stick to the more local Dayton Dragons?)

04 February 2019

Review: Exploring Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson

In a completely unrelated bit, my review of the most recent UNIT set is up: Revisitations. I reckon it's the best one yet in this often inconsistent series. Plus also I take on The Seventh Doctor: The New Adventures, Volume One.

Borrowed from the library
Read August 2018
Exploring Calvin and Hobbes: An Exhibition Catalogue by Bill Watterson

Finally, my attempt to read every Calvin and Hobbes book comes to an end; like Sunday Pages, this is a collection based around an exhibition at the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum at Ohio State University. A lot of it is original artwork for the strip, which I'm sure is cool to see in person, but in book form is not much different to seeing the finished art in the regular books. There isn't much commentary on the strips, though it is nice to see oldies and goodies again.

What does make the book interesting is the interview and the non-Calvin and Hobbes strips. The book opens with a 35-page interview with Watterson, which digs into some stuff I hadn't seen covered before-- biographical details, mostly, like thoughts about his youth, and a particularly harrowing story of the time he ran out his buffer of completed strips, and how he had to be disciplined enough to build it back up again. In some ways it seems like the ten years of Calvin and Hobbes was a particularly miserable time in his life, in that it left him with no time to do anything but create the strip. I also liked seeing the non-C&H art, which is a combination of strips that influenced Watterson (with his commentary) and Watterson's early, pre-C&H work. I would have liked even more of this, to be honest, but the couple pages we got was neat: editorial cartoons, pitches for other comic strips, and ur-forms of C&H itself. Also as a Cincinnatian, I was pleased to see Jim Borgman included as one of Watterson's influences (they overlapped at Kenyon) and to see Watterson discuss his Cincinnati Post days a little.

So, a decent book with some new stuff. I'd say about a third of its 150 pages will reveal something new to the Calvin and Hobbes aficionado.

01 February 2019

Reading Roundup Wrapup: January 2019

Pick of the month: Beat to Quarters by C. S. Forester. I'm currently on the fifth book of a Horatio Hornblower (re)read, and so far the original one is still the one to beat. What a triumph of naval fiction, an utter delight in a world so alien to our own, completely embodied here, with some of the most fantastic action sequences in all literature. Sometimes this choice is hard; this month it is easy.

All books read:
1. Star Trek: The Next Generation: Indistinguishable from Magic by David A. McIntee
2. Tono-Bungay by H. G. Wells
3. Star Wars: Dark Times, Volume Four: Blue Harvest by Mick Harrison
4. The Last Days of New Paris by China Miéville
5. Star Trek: Department of Temporal Investigations: Forgotten History by Christopher L. Bennett
6. The Professor by Charlotte Brontë
7. Stella and An Unfinished Communication: Studies of the Unseen by C. H. Hinton
8. Star Wars: Dark Times, Volume Five: Out of the Wilderness by Randy Stradley
9. Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Plagues of Night by David R. George III
10. Star Trek: Discovery: The Way to the Stars by Una McCormack
11. Jezebel’s Daughter by Wilkie Collins
12. Doctor Who: The Story of Doctor Who edited by Marcus Hearn
13. Beat to Quarters by C. S. Forester
14. Septimus by William J. Locke
15. Ship of the Line by C. S. Forester
16. Hypatia by Charles Kingsley
17. Flying Colours by C. S. Forester
18. Commodore Hornblower: Number Eight in the Hornblower Saga, The greatest naval adventures of all time! by C. S. Forester
19. The Azrael of Anarchy by Gustave Linbach
20. Star Wars: Dark Times, Volume Six: Fire Carrier by Randy Stradley

All books acquired:
1. Hainish Novels & Stories, Volume One: Rocannon's World / Planet of Exile / City of Illusions / The Left Hand of Darkness / The Dispossessed / Stories by Ursula K. Le Guin
2. Hainish Novels & Stories, Volume Two: The Word for World Is Forest / Stories / Five Ways to Forgiveness / The Telling by Ursula K. Le Guin
3. Star Wars: The Last Jedi by Michael Reaves and Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff
4. Star Wars: X-Wing: Mercy Kill by Aaron Allston
5. Kipps by H. G. Wells
6. The Investigation by Stanislaw Lem
7. Hypatia by Charles Kingsley
8. The End of the World: Classic Tales of Apocalyptic Science Fiction selected by Michael Kelahan
9. Jezebel's Daughter by Wilkie Collins
10. Star Wars: Discovery: The Way to the Stars by Una McCormack
11. Cities in Flight, Volume 1 by James Blish
12. Alton Locke, Tailor and Poet: An Autobiography by Charles Kingsley
13. The Egoist by George Meredith

Books remaining on "To be read" list: 656 (no change)
Books remaining on "To review" list: 21 (up 6)

Obviously I acquired a lot of books this month, but I've been reading enough to compensate for that. But reading a lot means I've fallen behind in writing up my reviews.

31 January 2019

The Scientist in Victorian Literature: Professor Fontaine, Chemist (Jezebel's Daughter, 1880)

I was about to say today's Unreality SF review (the Gothic audio drama Blind Terror) isn't like today's book review at all, but I guess there is some similarity between Wilkie Collins and Gothic audio drama.

Trade paperback, 266 pages
Published 2016 (originally 1879-80)
Acquired and r
ead January 2019
Jezebel's Daughter by Wilkie Collins
‘I can understand the murderess becoming morally intoxicated with the sense of her own tremendous power. A mere human creature—only a woman, Julie!—armed with the means of secretly dealing death around her, wherever she goes—meeting with strangers who displease her, looking at them quietly, and saying to herself, “I doom you to die, before you are a day older”’ (77)
I read this book afraid it would contain a female scientist. Not only have I previously published a claim that that was first done in a later novel, but that later novel was also by Wilkie Collins; it seems rather embarrassing to overlook one Collins novel in the rush to establish the importance of another. Somehow, I did not hear of this novel until much more recently. I am safe, however. Jezebel's Daughter is about a woman using scientifically created poisons, but she herself did not create them. Madame Fontaine's late husband was a genius chemist, but she can do nothing more than follow the directions for administering and curing poison he left behind; she cannot even create more of them.

Professor Fontaine dies on the first page of the novel, however, meaning that there is nothing here that will really factor into my project on fictional Victorian scientists. What we hear of him, though, bears many traces of the stereotypical scientist. Madame Fontaine at first loved her husband, and pinned her hopes on him having a distinguished career, but even though he was a medical doctor, he gave it up for a life of experimental science, which had much less social possibility. She bemoans to a friend, "you have married a Man! Happy woman! I am married to a Machine" (75). At the height of his ambition, he becomes what she calls an "Animated Mummy," so lean and dirty is he as he neglects almost everything in his pursuit of chemical discoveries (75).

There's also a Hungarian chemist, never named, but described as "the most extraordinary experimental chemist living" and "[t]he new Paracelsus" (74). He's the one who bequeaths the formulas for the poisons to Professor Fontaine, and he's the one who inspires Professor Fontaine to sink his whole career into experimental chemistry. But he commits suicide, seemingly for scientifically logical reasons: "After giving it a fair trial, I find that life is not worth living for. I have decided to destroy myself with a poison of my own discovery. [...] [M]y body is presented as a free gift to the anatomy school. Let a committee of surgeons and analysts examine my remains. I defy them to discover a trace of the drug that has killed me" (76). He feels like a forerunner for Doctor Nathan Benjulia in Heart and Science (1882-83), a vaguely foreign, sinister, Godless presence lurking at the margins of the novel and enabling some of its darkest moments, but not directly involved in the main plot. (Unlike in Heart and Science, where the villainous Mrs. Gallilee admires Benjulia, Madame Fontaine plainly disapproves of the Hungarian.)

This novel also feels like a forerunner for Heart and Science in its exploration of female villainy. Like Mrs. Gallilee, Madame Fontaine is a strange mix of femininity and anti-femininity. She departs from social mores, but one sense the novel doesn't entirely disapprove of her: it's set in 1828, but narrated retrospectively from the time of publication (1879-80), and the narrator occasionally comments that things were different for women then, they had less options. (The narrator's aunt is the director of a trading company that employs many women, and this is figured as unusual.) So when Madame Fontaine poisons people, you can kind of understand where she's coming from in a society often arrayed against women, as the epigraph above reveals, or the following delightfully villainous speech: "Power! […] The power that I have dream of all my life is mine at last! Alone among mortal creatures, I have Life and Death for my servants. […] What a position! I stand here, a dweller in a popular city—and every creature in it, from highest to lowest, is a creature in my power!" (145)

Like Mrs. Gallilee, Madame Fontaine is pursuing motherly ends through un-motherly means. She simply wants her daughter to be happy-- but is willing to stop at nothing to make it happen. But also like Mrs. Gallilee, she's often obsessed with the appearance of propriety over actual propriety; she refuses to moderate her spending when the family coffers begin running low, insisting it is simply not done, and she must live in the manner to which she has become accustomed. It is a monstrous femininity, its strengths and weaknesses all magnified to dangerous proportions. If you've already read Heart and Science, then, Jezebel's Daughter very much comes across as the dry run for it; in a sense, Heart and Science just takes the husband's scientific sensibility and transfers it to his wife; Mrs. Gallilee is everything Madame Fontaine is with the addition of seeing like a scientist.

Jezebel's Daughter is like Heart and Science in one final way: it is very much minor Collins. There's none of the thrills or mysteries of The Woman in White or The Moonstone or No Name to be found here. It has its moments, but Collins can do better.

30 January 2019

Review: Star Wars: Purge by John Ostrander, Alexander Freed, et al.

Comic trade paperback, 124 pages
Published 2013 (contents: 2005-13)
Acquired August 2014 

Read December 2018
Star Wars: Purge

Script: John Ostrander, Haden Blackman, Alexander Freed
Art: Douglas Wheatley, Jim Hall and Alex Lei & Mark McKenna, Chris Scalf, Marco Castiello & Andrea Chella
Colors: Ronda Pattison, Michael Atiyeh
Lettering: Michael David Thomas, Michael Heisler

The contents of this collection-- five issues published across seven years-- overlap chronologically with that of Dark Times, so I read it alongside it. It's okay, but not great, but I doubt it could be great: a series of one-shots about Darth Vader hunting down Jedi after Revenge of the Sith can pretty much only go one way again and again. In each story, some minor Jedi character challenges Vader. Usually, the character has appeared in two previous issues since 1999, or perhaps they've never appeared anywhere before at all. Guess what? They go down. Hard.

Obviously most of the stories are trying to give us emotional insight into Vader after his fall, but there's not a lot to give: Vader is angry, even more so than Palpatine wants. Well, sure. The best story in this regard is the third, "The Hidden Blade" by Haden Blackman and Chris Scalf, where Vader's anger actually causes some conflict, getting in the way of his mission. I also liked the final story, "The Tyrant's Fist" by Alexander Freed, Marco Castiello, and Andrea Chella, because a lot of it was told from the perspective of a young Imperial officer, using her to show how the galaxy is adapting to the lack of the Jedi, as they have to be eradicated not just physically, but from the hearts and minds of the people. So a couple decent stories, a couple okay ones. You could do worse, but most of the people involved in this have done better.

29 January 2019

Review: Doctor Who: Jak and the Wormhole by Justin Richards

While I'm discussing Doctor Who, I am back in action at Unreality SF after a couple weeks off, with a review of the first four episodes of Torchwood series 6: God Among Us 1.

Hardcover, 37 pages
Published 2016 (originally 2015)

Acquired February 2017
Read July 2018
Doctor Who: Jak and the Wormhole
by Justin Richards
illustrated by David Wardle

I do like that in this BBC Books prestige product designed to lure in people who like Matt Smith there's a whole book that's just an adaptation of 1979-80's The Horns of Nimon, notoriously one of the worst Doctor Who stories ever made. This is actually a somewhat fun Jack and the Beanstalk riff, and sure, why not end the series with it? I enjoyed it more than most of the volumes.

Next Week: On to a new reading project: I catch up on the Star Trek fiction of the Destiny era!

28 January 2019

Review: Record of a Spaceborn Few by Becky Chambers

Trade paperback, 359 pages
Published 2018
Acquired July 2018
Read August 2018
Record of a Spaceborn Few by Becky Chambers

The first Wayfarers/Galactic Commons novel, The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet, didn't do much for me, as it was aimless and conflict-free, but I did end up enjoying the emotional journey of the second, A Closed and Common Orbit, so I picked up the third, Record of a Spaceborn Few. It's a lot like Kim Stanley Robinson's New York 2140, in that we follow a group of disparate protagonists as a way into seeing a futuristic society. Unlike New York 2140, though, the connections between strands are slight. A couple of the characters briefly meet during the novel, but there's no unifying plot.

It wants to be a book about the conflict between tradition and modernization: in the future, humanity has abandoned Earth for the Exodus Fleet, but once humanity discovers the Galactic Commons, more and more humans are leaving the Fleet for a more grounded life. So what's the point of the Exodus Fleet and Exodan tradition? But this was closer to the Long Way end of the Becky Chambers spectrum. The individual stories mostly left me cold, though every now and again there'd be a striking scene or moment, such as the Exodan funeral ceremony. I just feel like the characters and the themes don't have the depth needed to make Chambers's slice-of-life style storytelling work. Probably this will be my last Galactic Commons novel unless future installments are Hugo finalists again.

25 January 2019

The Mollmann Call

When I was in grad school, I used to workshop my creative writing with a group of fellow graduate students. I think it was when we were doing my novel about Doctor McCoy, that one of my friends observed, "Doctor McCoy is the quintessential Steve Mollmann protagonist: in love with the world, and in love with complaining about the world." Like so many things people say when critiquing your work, I immediately realized it was true even though I'd never thought of it before; many of the characters in my attempts at original sf could be described along similar lines.

I think this is the location the song was coined, St. Mary's Falls in Colorado.
This is something I picked up from my family. (Though I think maybe I'm more in love with the world than they are.) My mom once changed the lyrics of the camp classic "The Beaver Song" to be about the Mollmanns:
I'm a Mollmann,
You're a Mollmann,
We are Mollmanns all,
And when we get together
We do our Mollmann call:
Whine whine whine whine whine whine
Crab crab crab crab crab
Whine whine whine whine whine whine
Crab crab crab crab crab.
I'm not exactly sure what this can be blamed on. Like, I don't think my father is responsible; I think it used to frustrate him how much we call complained, which we did sort of as a default reaction, not necessarily meaning anything by it. So I guess that means my mother's to blame?

Sometimes I worry that happiness expressed via complaining is just, like much irony, a way of refraining from the danger of earnestness. If you don't directly say what you like, no one can attack you for it. As Augustine St. Clare says in Uncle Tom's Cabin, "I am one of the sort that lives by throwing stones at other people’s glass houses, but I never mean to put up one for them to stone." Sarcasm is, of course, often a defense mechanism, and I find I go overboard on it when I'm nervous about something, like when I first became a student manager at the dining hall, or when I went on a cross-country road trip with someone I'd only known for a couple months. I find that as I've gotten older I've engaged in it a lot less, and it's sometimes jarring to go back home and step into it all over again. I don't think I complain as much as I used to.

Once my brother texted me and asked if he and his fiancée could copy what me and Hayley did for wedding rings. I said, "Sure, but I reserve the right to complain that you copied us." He texted back: "Like a true Mollmann." But I was happy.

#32: What makes you happy?

24 January 2019

The Scientist in Victorian Literature: Michael Graham, Philosopher ("Stella," 1895)

PDF eBook, 177 pages
Published 1895
Read January 2019
Stella and An Unfinished Communication: Studies of the Unseen
by C. H. Hinton
"But I thought, Stella, that the forbidden tree was the tree of knowledge."
     "That was Adam's tree, Hugh! There were two trees in the garden of Eden, a big one for Adam, and a smaller one near it for Eve. Her tree was the tree of being seen and known. When she ate that kind of fruit, she became visible, she was no longer as she was meant to be." (32)
This book contains two novellas by Charles Hinton, a mathematician who coined the word "tesseract." The first, "Stella," is the reason I read it, a story of scientific invisibility that predates H. G. Wells's The Invisible Man (1897). Michael Graham is our man of science, but it's kind of borderline as an inclusion in my project, because 1) we never actually see his point-of-view, as he's dead by the time the story begins, and 2) I don't think he's ever actually described as a scientist or a man of science.

Spoilers head, though this is one of those books you won't see much of a reason to read if you don't know some of them. Graham was actually a philosopher trying to figure out how to create altruistic people; he determined that adults cannot be adapted to new moral codes because their minds formed around old ones, and it's even difficult to raise children because the environment of society will impose itself on them (23). So he decided to raise a child in absolute secret. His theory became that he needed to find out what the soul did when the most fundamental self-regarding impulses were denied (48). For boys, that's taking things, but for girls, that's being seen. It's impossible to stop a boy from wanting things (because then he will die), but it is possible to stop a girl from being seen if you adjust her index of refraction! So he raised a girl named Stella from birth in a state of invisibility.

The book is narrated by Hugh "Steddy" Stedman Churton, a lawyer sent to wind up Graham's affairs. While staying in Graham's old house, he meets and falls in love with Stella; eventually, Stella is kidnapped by a medium looking to use her to enhance his bogus seances.

It's a strange book, but a very enjoyable one. There's a certain weird logic to Graham's ideas, and Hinton is surprisingly good at depicting the tension between different ideas; this isn't one of those Victorian books where someone expounds a theory and you're clearly meant to take their side. Graham's ideas are weird, of course, but Churton's insistence that Stella needs to be visible and marry him feels very small-minded. He's unwilling to open himself up to the strange possibilities that the universe has to offer beyond our dimension, and he clearly doesn't value women when he can't see how attractive they are. Additionally, though the novella is obviously exploring the way women need to be seen, I don't Churton ever recognizes his need to be seen, but he definitely has one too.

The novella is only 107 pages long, and I zipped through it in a couple sittings. I think it helps that Hinton clearly has a sense of humor and of adventure. The joke on p. 105 made me laugh aloud.

There are some other men of science in the book, too. Frank Cornish is Churton's friend and Graham's nephew who gets an M.D., but spends his time researching, not in medical practice; he helps Churton figure out some of the science behind Stella's invisibility. There's also "Professor C——", a chemist who helps Churton track down Stella. Churton gets Professor C—— to help him because of his love of experiments; Churton says, "he possessed in a marked degree that ardour for experiment which becomes a second nature with scientific men" (61). However, there's one point where Churton and Professor C—— probably could have rescued Stella earlier but C—— wastes time asking her questions about coefficients (65).

I don't think it will make it into my project, because the science is mostly, well, invisible, but it will make it onto my list. Thanks to Elizabeth L. Throesch's book on Hinton for alerting me to its existence.

Additionally, the book contains another novella by Hinton, "An Unfinished Communication," about a man who goes to see an "unlearner." It starts out funny, with some good jokes, but quickly becomes ponderous, and I stopped putting the work into figuring out what was going on.