I stumbled on this article about Reichenbach's Phenomena, and I swear to all things holy I thought Midichlorians!

So the basic rundown is that Reichenbach's Phenomena, or Odic Force, is supposed to be this measurable life force that exists in everything. Only certain special people can see it, and it presents somewhat like auras and qi, only, you know, totally different. Because it's a really scientific thing and not like those made up things. 

We've discussed before how I have a hard time taking pseudoscience stuff seriously. I'm not demonstrably better with parapsychology (which this is, because of the whole 'no really, some special people can see this stuff').

And arguably I get the point in studying things like this, at least from back in the day when Reichenbach was doing it and until the 1920's. Science was Science! and it was all knew and Tesla was still alive and doing things the rest of us wouldn't be ready for in another fifty freaking years. 

I think maybe that's my problem with some of this stuff. I'd have been all over it, a hundred years ago. But the sad thing about scientific process is that you can't just keep the bits you want. We can understand molecular biology but hang onto the comforting bits. Like the idea that we're all made of this same kind of energy and it permeates everything and...

Okay, disclaimer time. I know any number of people who believe things like this on a spiritual level, and there's something comforting about the scientific idea that we're all made of the dust of ancient stars and everything that's ever existed is made from the same thing. If you need me to validate your beliefs system we've got bigger problems than my skepticism. and I certainly hope that's not the case. If you do, I'll fake it as best I can, and you're absolutely welcome to believe whatever you'd like. 

I just think sometimes we need to watch the shape our comfort blinders take. And pay attention to that 'blinders' part. 

But what do I know, I write books about cat detectives and special witches (this one isn't coming for a couple months still).

In May of 1941 Rudolph Hess single-handedly parachuted into Scotland to open peace negotiations with England. Because he felt left out. 

No really. Someone else had supplanted his place as Hitler's supposed favorite as the war heated up, and he decided the way to fix this was to go to England and convince someone to sign a peace treaty that gave Germany all the things they wanted. 

I don't even know where to start with that. 

Also, the more of this stuff I watch the more convinced I am Goebbles was a little...enamored of his fuhrer. I was watching The Rise of the Nazi Party  and they helpfully read some of his diary entries from the first time he met Hitler and I'm not sure 'crush' covers it. Mostly they're a study in extremely miserable people doing their best to blame it on someone else and make them miserable too. 

So yes. The Crazy is strong.

And hey, on Wednesday we're gonna talk about my lack of creative spoons, so you've got that coming down the pipes. 

I've been struggling this last week. If you pay attention to all the random junk I put out over the course of a month you realize I've been super freaking busy lately. I edited a magazine, and Undiscovered Country came out (in ebook anyway) in December, and Case of the Armadillo came out in January and and and. 

*quiet panting*

It's been a busy couple of months. But now I'm through all that, and I'm supposed to be working on actually creating things, not just selling them, and I'm utterly fucking failing (the title was in reference to the incoming f-bombs, by way of warning). Part of it is that "Project of Doom" is book two and I hate middles. Like epicly, unreasonably fucking hate them. Part of that is the ravening plot bunnies hanging around in the corners going 'but we'd be so much more fun. Come on Jules, you know you wanna. Just come write us for a while. Then we'll behave, we promise.'

The plot bunnies lie. No really, repeat after me. The plot bunnies are inconstant literary sluts who wish to lure you onto the primrose path and then fuck off the instant someone catches you on the primrose path. Do not follow the plot bunnies.

So what happens pretty frequently when I get like this is I wind up trolling the internets for some kind of inspiration. For some words of wisdom that get me back on task. This time I found this post by Chuck Wendig. There is no equal for Mr Wendig. He's all psyonic Pterodactyls and shit-volcanoes and pumpkin-fucking-goats. 

I might have a bit of a crush. Shut it you. Anyway, I will leave you with this bit of brilliance, it's all his. 

You should totally go read the post.

In Dalton's Daughter there's a character who sleeps in a clam-shell bed that excretes pink snot because he needs moisture. 

He's a Jellyman, and I bet that's all you need from me to picture a Jellyman, though I wonder if you'd picture him exactly the way he was in the book, or the way I would have picture it.

When I was casting around today trying to find something to talk about today for Science Fiction Friday that sort of connected to the rest of this week, and I came up with aliens. Which is problematic, because re: the strawberry of doom conversation we had before, aliens are not one of my faves. But the purpose of Science Fiction Fridays is to talk about Science and Science Fiction and... well. Aliens it is. It's not like I need to sleep tonight or anything. 

But it's also not like I have anything interesting or coherent to say about aliens. So I think in the interest of brevity today, I'll just give you a link. Sometime in 1996, shortly before he died, Carl Sagan did an interview with Nova, which you can find here on their website. And he brings up a lot of really great points--obviously, he's Carl Sagan--but the best one is this: 

Not that I'm saying I want the aliens to steal our DNA and start growing their own humans. Hopefully, if they exist and they find us, it's after they've found some episodes of Star Trek bouncing around out there and acquainted themselves with the Prime Directive.

I hate doing book reviews. There are a whole lot of reasons for this, but the biggest reason is I feel like it's impossible to proselytize about a book without either over-selling it, or giving you entirely the wrong idea. 
And I quadruple hate doing book reviews for writer's like me, who only have a book or two out and are just starting on this crazy publishing ride. Because talking about the latest from JK Rowling or King or whoever, I'm totally just speaking into the vacuum, but when it's someone like me I assume they're listening and I'm going to crush them like a bug if I utterly hate their book. 
Which hasn't happened yet, but I keep waiting for it. 
So. Anyway. Today we're going to talk about a book that I got as a review trade (it's author agreed to review my book if I reviewed hers) and I know most of the reviews I've done before are as a writer, but this one isn't going to be. Today is all about Reader Hat. Also, assigning a value to stuff like this is hard. I envision screaming tirades about how so-and-so bought that book because I gave it 4 stars and they hated and...anyway.

Disclaimer: Dalton's Daughter exists somewhere in the midst of this vast Science-Fiction universe--I'm not exactly sure where--and I haven't read any of the other material so if anyone happens to spend a lot of time around the GAF Mainframe I'm probably going to sound like an idiot. However, it's book one of a trilogy so it doesn't need all of that to make sense as a story.

What I know is this: Dalton's Daughter is the story of a woman escaping from the resource planet she was born on through the most convenient way possible--the military. If you're not super into sci-fi, a resource planet is basically what is says on the tin: a place intended to be strip-mined until it's given all it's got of value. They're traditionally not...nice places. Dalton's not any different, and Sasha's life there is more than horrible enough to make you understand why she wants to leave. 

Disclaimer the Second: Normally I'm not a fan of 'trigger warnings' for reasons that aren't relevant to this review so I'll keep them to myself. That being said, if you have trouble with depictions of sexual abuse you should be prepared for that. And maybe give the first couple of chapters a skip.

Things I Liked:
--There were parts of this book, particularly around the middle, that reminded me very much of John Scalzi's Old Man's War, which is one of my favorite books of all time. Generally I'm not so hot on Military Fic, but apparently I really like Boot Camp Fic, and Dalton's Daughter delivered plenty of that. 

--Stark's characterization, not just of Sasha but of most of the characters, was surprisingly deft in a short amount of space. I got a good feel for people and people-like-things pretty quickly, and honestly, through Sasha's eyes and in a way that fit someone with her cracked life experiences.

--Stark is utterly and completely unafraid to go the dark, uneasy places. Generally that's not actually a thing I like, but for this book it works. Sasha has to struggle with some seriously icky places in her own mind, and in her past, and she doesn't necessarily do it in ways I like or agree with but she does it.

Things I Wasn't So Fond Of:
--In the early chapters I had a little trouble with Sasha's voice. She's a complex person, but she's not always clear and it took a while to find my feet with that. Initially the narrative felt like I was spending time with a ten-year-old so when I did the math and realized she's seventeen or eighteen it was a little jarring. She's pretty extremely emotionally stunted though, and given the fact you get a front seat for most of why that is it makes sense. 

--There were a couple of places where the time skips--which obviously have to happen in any book, because otherwise it'd be like 1200 pages long--felt a little rushed. Like I started the chapter expecting us to spend time in one place, but we very quickly wound up someplace else. 

--It ends at 'To be continued..." which just...gah. It didn't feel exactly like a cliff-hanger though, and I felt it coming long before we got there. Still. I'm not so much a fan of 'To be continued...' I is not a patient person.

Rating, Because Everybody Likes a Scale:
For the purposes of reviews on my blog, I go out of 4 stars because I think I've read one book in my life I'd have rated at 5, and that way it'll wind up the same everywhere. Assigning a value to stuff like this is hard. I envision screaming tirades about how so-and-so bought that book because I gave it 4 stars and they hated and...

So here's the thing. If you read hard space-opera-y science fiction a lot and you absolutely love it and the concept of a website all about this universe's Encyclopedia Galatica makes you shiver with glee, then I'd tell you this book got a full 4 stars. Because the only thing's I'd have docked it for wouldn't matter to you anyway.

If you don't read that kind of science fiction, or just don't generally read science fiction I'd tell you it got somewhere between 3 and 3.5 stars. It's worth reading, even if you aren't a fan of the genre. Sasha Wheaton is real, even when she's a mess, and it's an interesting trip in her head.

Find Dalton's Daughter:
On Amazon
On the Web
On Facebook

Find Virginia Caraway Stark:
On Facebook

Alright. So. Review done. Check back in on Friday where I'll have something quasi-relevant and scientific to say. 

Well...I'm gonna try anyway.

So I was totally going to come up with some kind of random, fun Monday post for today. But yesterday I learned how to do this thing where I can embed a pin from Pinterest on a website, and I'm still sort of proud of myself.

I also put out a magazine and a book last weekend, so I'm kind of taking a day off. 

Oh hey. Look. It's my book... Well, one of them anyway. 

Today's Sci-Fi Friday post is about pseudoscience because the Paddington theme meant I either had to talk about bears in train stations or Peru, and I couldn't come up with anything scientifically cogent about bears in train stations. 

So now comes the challenge where I talk about South American pseudo-science without exploding into an incoherent ball of rage repeatedly screaming VAN DANIKEN!!!!

I'm probably going to fail, so you've got that to look forward to.

Because people totes find bears from Darkest Peru just hanging out in train stations in London. 

In all seriousness, Paddington Bear is one of those characters that convinced me London was a strange, magical place, and firmly planted it on my bucket list as a place to go. And I want it to do that for my son, and for countless other kids. Hopefully the movie will help that, right?

Tiny side note, and critique? If you're buying Paddington for someone, the picture books are adorable and fun, but they aren't the same story. A tour of the Amazon Look Inside thing will show you a lot of that. I'm one of those strange people that feel like words matter, and I don't particularly like abridged books. If you think I'm wrong, tell me why down there in the comments, I'm interested to hear what you think.

There's a theme, here on Words and Wonderings this week, but you don't get to find out what it is until Wednesday.

So. Today we're talking about...

Today's Well Written Wednesday is a shout out to a really cool thing I found on the internet the other day. Because I just feel like passing it along, and I feel like it fits. 

Because everyone needs Hobbit Feet Slippers.

Check back on Friday where I'll talk about yet more shoddy journalism and possibly offer some audience participation time.