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I never read the Moomin books when I was growing up, though I vaguely remember seeing the TV series when I was a teenager. I suppose the cuddly characters indicated that there was nothing to see there, and I should move along.

But recently I have been tracking down and reading various books which are generally "Fantastical", mainly via 100 Must Read Fantasy Novels; Comet in Moominland was one mentioned there. I've just finished reading it to my daughter (7), and we both thoroughly enjoyed it.

It's the first of the Moomin books intended for older readers (the first was more for younger children), and while slow-moving to start with, and in many ways lacking in "action", it is humorous, lovable and graceful, but with a deep, darkly-tinged heart.

Some reviews I've read, talking about this book and the later ones, discuss themes in depth; one of the most important being that difference should be tolerated. The characters are very different from each other: some nomadic, some home-loving; some open, some insular; some pessimistic, some optimistic etc. But they all rub along together, and want to stay together, tolerating each other's differences. I have to be honest that this didn't occur to me during reading, but it does make sense in retrospect. Though that's not why I'm urging you to read the book.

The story is pretty simple: through various omens, Moomintroll realises a comet may be about to crash into the planet. The comet appears in the sky, and he sets out (with various friends) to ask some astronomers (fairly useless, it turns out) when the impact will happen. Towards the end of the book, they are racing back home to Moomin valley to hide in a cave they think will keep them safe. The comet has boiled the water out of the ocean and hangs threateningly overhead; they are using stilts to move over the drained ocean bed. At that point, there is a beautiful passage which almost made me cry. It's because of passages like this that I urge you to read it, even if you're an adult:

I love how the simplicity of the language in the penultimate paragraph reflects the simplicity of the sentiment: it's simple things which make life worth living, and dressing those simple things up in more flowery language detracts from their worth (it puts me in mind of the haiku of writers like Han-shan). I also like the description of the shell: a little sentimental, maybe, but hinting at our ambivalent relationship with the sea: the myth of the siren, our endless longing for the sea, but ultimately how unfathomable and dangerous it is.

The sequels apparently become darker in tone, though remaining life-affirming. I'll definitely be getting hold of them and reading them with my daughter.

Last year I did pretty poorly on reading books, so this year I made an effort to read much more. I managed 62 books this year: the first year where I've read at least a book a week. My reading rate dropped off just before Christmas, due to the lure of new DVDs and the minor improvement to TV schedules around Christmas. But I will get back to reading more regularly this year.

Here's the list (for completists and myself only); the ones with asterisks are considered "classics" in the SF/fantasy fields (one of my personal goals this year was to get better acquainted with the classics in these fields); the ones in bold are the ones I really rate:

This year I plan to read more Jack Vance, Michael Moorcock and Jonathan Carroll, as well as more of the "classics", particularly older works of The Fantastic I have on my Kindle (stuff like Charles Williams, H. Rider Haggard, G.K. Chesterton, Arthur Machen, Lord Dunsany, George MacDonald).

I've also been attempting to put together some ideas for short stories, or maybe even interactive fiction. Something might come of that too. Probably not, though.

I keep thinking about writing something here, but the problem is once I get started, that's a whole evening gone, waffling.

In particular, I've been thinking about books a lot. So here are some book-related nuggets. It all goes a bit Victor Meldrew by the end, I warn you now.

Space operas I've read

I recently read Vernor Vinge's A Fire Upon the Deep alongside Alastair Reynolds' House of Suns. Both are galaxy-spanning space opera, both full of artificial intelligences, alien races, and dogfights in space. Both highly entertaining. But Vinge's book was written about 20 years before Reynolds', and it's pretty obvious Reynolds is a big fan of Vinge. Not to the point of copying, but the plotlines of both share similarities (humans caught up in a battle involving AI systems/races which have reached god-like power). And Vinge is a much, much better writer: his characters are more sympathetic, his scenery more memorable, his aliens more interesting, and his narrative pace tighter and more dramatic. So if you want some space opera, I'd go for Vinge first, and Reynolds second.

I might read Jack Vance soon, as a brief look at one of his books (The Star King) suggests Vinge was inspired by his work (e.g. both use the term The Beyond to refer to the far reaches of the galaxy)...

Hay-on-Wye visit

I visited Hay on Wye with my family for a couple of days last week. We've made this an annual pilgrimage, as we all love going there so much. I found a lot of good books; in particular, Richard Booth's bookshop was a fantastic source of unusual sf: see the town shop catalogue and castle bookshop catalogue for a fraction of the stock.

I ended up buying:

Each book cost me £2 to £2.50: cheaper than Amazon marketplace, but not as cheap as I would have liked. I think I'm lucky because sf books are still in a bit of a ghetto; other types of paperback seem a bit overpriced (a symptom of the tourist popularity of the place). I love going there, but my best finds are still when I get hold of an unusual 1960s/1970s paperback for 30p in a small charity shop.

My tactic when visiting is to make a list of specific books to look for: we have about 3-4 hours browsing time, and there are just too many books to look at all of them. On this occasion, I was aiming to find a few "classics" (Moore, Varley, Pangborn, Shaw), interesting books by authors I've recently discovered (Vernor Vinge, Michael Bishop), and books by authors I always look out for (Malzberg - often tricky to find, as I'm not sure all his books made it to publication in Europe). I had a list of about 50 authors/books, but passed up on a few I found because the book wasn't in particularly good condition, or it didn't look so good in the flesh, or were too expensive.

Madeleine chose 17 books (we had to limit her to 1 or 2 per shop, as she kept gathering piles of half a dozen or more - children's books are reasonably priced, though the Children's Bookshop is a rip-off with common paperbacks at £3); Joel got 4 picture books (he mainly wanted to walk around the shops, rather than look at books); and Nicola got about 5 (her favourite shop there is Murder and Mayhem).

Anyhow, now I've got so many great books to read, I don't know where to start.

On Bookmooch

Bookmooch is a great little site: basically you list books you want to give away, and books you'd like to acquire. Each time you give a book away, you get points; each time you acquire a book, you spend points (so no money changes hands). You get 3 points for sending abroad, 1 point for sending to your own country; asking for a book from your own country costs 1 point; asking for a book internationally costs 2 points. I've exchanged quite a few books on there. But a few recent experiences have soured it for me:

All in all, while it worked out well for a while and I got some good books out of it, I'd actually rather spend £3 on Amazon to get the books I want, rather than go through the hassle of using bookmooch. Shame. I'll leave my wishlist on there, but I'm not going to put anything in my inventory for the time being.

I'm 40 this year (not yet, I hasten to add). Yes, I know it's no big deal it's a round number, that's just human preference for powers of 10. Anyway, it does seem like some kind of milestone in my life, for whatever reasons. And as I have a generally introspective mind, and a good dose of self-absorption, and this is my blog, I'm going to write a few notes about it.

Not sure what got me started down this path, but yesterday I dug out a load of old school books, note books, board game designs, roleplaying game campaign books, poetry, short stories - it's all still out there in the garage. But what struck me, rather than "where did all my dreams go? what am I doing with my life?", the usual things accompanying the average mid-life crisis, I found myself thinking "actually, I'm pretty much the same person I was when I was 12; I haven't really changed much; I still believe the same things". I mentioned this to Nicola (my wife) and she said something like "that's one thing you always are: consistent, stable, level-headed". Though she made it sound better than that: I'm paraphrasing.

So, where is my evidence for this. Cue quotations from old school books etc.:

There's really no point going on about achievements since then etc.; you can read my about page to find out what I've done with myself all this time. I don't think I'll ever "do enough" to say I've finished.

More important, though, are things which have meant a lot to me over the past few months. These are the kind of things we're living for:

While digging around, I also found this rather excellent (and very 1980s and corny, obviously around the time of Close Encounters) birthday card from my family; inside it says "HOPE YOUR BIRTHDAY IS OUT OF THIS WORLD!" There's also some of my mum's handwriting: "To Elliot, lots of love Mum, Dad, Dean & Chloë" (she always put the umlaut on Chloe). Finding some of her writing, that made me a bit sad (she died a few years ago of cancer). Here's the picture, anyway:

(Looking at this now, the sentimental part of me suddenly finds this picture quite fitting as a visual metaphor for what it's like to grow up...)

No earth-shattering revelation to come to, no character progression. But perhaps that is my point. What's important is knowing who you are, and doing things which make you (and those around you) feel good.

I noticed this Zombie Haiku book yesterday: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1600610706

Which reminded me of this zombie haiku I wrote when I was about 12 (27 years ago - ouch):

A noxious zombie
eats a mouldy, worm-filled leg
in a rancid cave.

Which isn't very good (though vivid enough for me to remember and obviously ahead of its time); and not strictly haiku (it has no "kireji", or its closest equivalent in English, i.e. "a dignified ending, concluding the verse with a heightened sense of closure" - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kireji). So I rewrote it while in the bath last night (probably too much information there...):

An ashen zombie
gnaws a muddy, worm-filled leg:
tears run over bones.

Hopefully, this will enable you to see how much I've progressed as an artist.

Update: After having written this, I read this surprisingly relevant blog entry about how we see our artwork when we're young (by way of Rotating Corpse), how our perceptions of it change, and even how art comes to have value.

Last year I only managed to read 18 books. Pretty poor going. They were:

Microserfs - Douglas Coupland
Magnetism and other stories - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Everything Is Miscellaneous
The Eternal Champion - Michael Moorcock
Phoenix in Obsidian - Michael Moorcock
The Sailor on the Seas of Fate - Michael Moorcock
Dying Inside - Robert Silverberg
Breakthrough - Richard Cowper
Brontomek! - Michael Coney
To Your Scattered Bodies Go - Philip Jose Farmer
Childhood's End - Arthur C. Clarke
400 Billion Stars - Paul J. McAuley
The Road - Cormac McCarthy
Tactics of Conquest - Barry Malzberg
Secret Harmonies - Paul J. McAuley
Inside Intel - Tim Jackson
Imperial Earth - Arthur C. Clarke
A Canticle for Leibowitz - Walter M. Miller Jr.

Of those, The Road was easily the best. I dread to think what a shambles the film will turn it into.

I've also updated my list of important books to include one or two I read last year, and some others I remembered. Plus I created a separate section for my favourite sf books.

This year I'm planning to read some sf classics. Here's the list I'm starting from (as I already have copies of all these):

A Case of Conscience - James Blish
Downward to the Earth - Robert Silverberg
Man Plus - Frederik Pohl
Venus Plus X - Theodore Sturgeon
Davy - Edgar Pangborn
The Space Merchants - Frederik Pohl & C.M. Kornbluth
The Diamond Age - Neal Stephenson
Blood Music - Greg Bear
Stand on Zanzibar - John Brunner
Time Out of Joint - Philip K. Dick
The Embedding - Ian Watson
The Fifth Head of Cerberus - Gene Wolfe
I Am Legend - Richard Matheson
On Wings of Song - Thomas M. Disch
Ringworld - Larry Niven
The Child Garden - Geoff Ryman

Let's see how I get on.

I was going to put "probably", but then decided that, no, this is my favourite:

http://ageofuncertainty.blogspot.com/

I love the way this chap writes. Mainly about second-hand books he's found and/or read, but often about their cover art, the ephemera he finds inside them, brilliant expositions about small towns he's visited, and other bits and pieces. There's a certain gentle Englishness, quiet pathos, and calm reflection about his work which strikes just the right balance for me.

Great Christmas holiday. Shame it's over.

Enjoyed watching lots of films through Sky+. Jonathon Creek, Gavin and Stacey, and Wallace and Gromit were good. Got the broadband working (though Sky's DNS servers are knackered at the moment).

Joel started eating solid food: he's starting to get the hang of it. Chloe and Ian came for Christmas day and we spent most of the time playing on the Wii and eating.

Presents I got:

Back to work Monday. Also need to stop eating so much crap, as I think I've put a few pounds on over Christmas.

And yes, Happy New Year and all that.

Seems to be passing more and more quickly.

We got Sky+ last weekend. The best thing about it for me, at the moment, is that it's great being able to watch a different comedy film every night. I am still in the "bewildered by choice" phase of engagement, but gradually working out where stuff is.

I feel quite unprepared for Christmas. I've done most (all?) of my shopping, but I need an audit to decide whether I need to get more stuff.

Joel is getting to the point where he recognises me when I come home, and he's all smiles. Lovely. Makes up for him waking up at 5.30 some mornings: after which he ends up on the lying on bathroom floor while I'm having a shower, so Nicola can get some rest. He goes onto solid food next week, having breakfast with me and Madeleine.

Madeleine is getting on well with her reading (can read most short words), likes doing number squares and crosswords, still does drawing every morning when she gets up. She's growing up fast. For her birthday she got several games, so we've been playing Junior Monopoly a few times.

I haven't been doing much. I've played with Google App Engine a couple of evenings, but apart from that, haven't been coding outside work. Too tired. Went to see John Shuttleworth live at the weekend: well worth seeing.

Another year nearly over. Personal achievements have been thin on the ground (far fewer extra-curricular activities). I've read about the same number of books I do every year; still not managed my goal of one per week. 35 to be precise. Here's the list:

Paul responded in a comment to this post. He pointed out that the small thing we may have lost (the ability to concentrate hard on "slow" pleasures) is more than compensated for by what we've gained: almost unlimited horizons, the wealth of the world at our fingertips, i.e. the internet. He's right. I was just being an old curmudgeon. Must have been a downer of a day.