A Deadly Education

Naomi Novik's A Deadly Education is the reasonable, correct, logical sort of magical boarding school novel, which has considered the implications of magic, and childhood development, and boarding schools, and societal systems, and wants to lure you in to considering these things, too.

The overall premise is this: magic is real, and only some people can use it. (Standard so far.) The use of magic, and even merely the access to magic, draws magical predators, who are varied and horrifying and want to consume magicians --- but of course, adult wizards are in control of their magic and strong and so their creamy, gooey center is well-guarded and hard to predate. Adolescent wizards, though, are just growing in to their magical powers, and so are relatively easier to devour, plus they are not as good at hiding themselves or defending themselves.

Given these stakes, surviving to adulthood is unlikely. So the magical community built a giant fortress-cum-boarding school (located in the UK of course) which is hard (but not impossible) to attack. Unlike the Harry Potter-verse where students are whisked into a world of whimsy when they turn 11, kids in this world are unwillingly teleported at age 11 to inside the school if they are lucky enough to receive a seat. (The unlucky try to survive pubescence outside the school and generally... don't.) The school contains no adults and runs on eldritch machinery, slightly broken and haphazard since it has been impossible to service. Upon graduation, the class of 18-year-olds (who lived through years of attrition-by-monster inside the school) are forced to fight their way out through all the too-big-to-sneak-inside monsters, who have been waiting outside all year to eat them.

Unsurprisingly, a lot of them also don't survive.

But overall, the odds of surviving to adulthood are better (but still horrible) if you attend the school than if you don't.

This was a really great read (I consumed it in one day!), and the slow reveal, through the narrator's sarcasm, of the delicate details of the world was fascinating and terrible. Our narrator is a 17-yo social outcast, trying to keep her head down to avoid the ire of the popular kids but still have enough loose social connections that no one feeds her to a monster in her sleep. This is a boarding school where the usual social pressures and uncomfortable alliances of puberty are writ large: whether you have a buddy to watch your back as you brush your teeth is the difference between life and death. Every day. Every student is stressed and tired (not to mention vitamin-D-deficient and undernourished), and on top of that they are all, continuously, furiously studying magic to try to level up in time to survive. There are the usual dramas (good vs evil magic, disastrous teen flirtation, who sits at which lunch table, rooms and staircases moving around unpredictably) and some completely delightful unexpected ones (the school automagically sets your lessons, so if you get uppity it gives you harder assignments; "no one wants to be in honors classes... the school puts you in them against your will" p. 96)

The writing was great, the characters had depth and were interesting, I was not sure what would happen next, and the twists and turns of the plot felt legitimate and also incredibly catchy. I am still thinking about the choices that were made, and the ones that still remain in the future. As soon as I put the book down --- that last sentence! aaaiiiieee! --- I looked up the release date of the next book. I now impatiently await.

Highly recommended.

This post's theme word is urticaceous (adj), "relating to a nettle; stinging." Immediate identification and distinguishing between lethal and merely dangerous urticaceous growths from the dormitory ceiling is a mandatory survival skill.

Phallacy

Emily Willingham's Phallacy: Life Lessons from the Animal Penis is not what I expected. Based on the cover art and the subtitle, it seemed packaged as a popular science book, so I thought it would be a little biology, some interesting research anecdotes maybe, and (of course) the mandatory discussion of bedbugs and slugs ("traumatic insemination" is an extremely clickbait-y phrase).

The book did include those things, but they were side notes --- its true focus was humans, and particularly the way that we (esp. in the west) have structured society in general and scientific research in particular to ignore things that are female-affiliated, even when that is an obvious detriment to scientific knowledge and research advancement. Plus there was an always-uncomfortable, but straightforward and unforgiving, broad consideration of toxic masculinity.

I think in retrospect that it's mostly "life lessons" and only sort of tangentially about "the animal penis", especially since the book itself contains so many descriptions of ways that various animals transfer gametes that are not a penis. The tone overall was straightforward but wry and unquestionably a woman's voice: it unflinchingly and repeatedly drew parallels to the animal kingdom and pointed out how hollow and stupid and full of preconceived notions those parallels were. It was sprinkled with absolutely fantastic footnotes and asides. Willingham has a wonderful authorial tone and a gift for introducing neologisms and puns, casually adding references to popular culture and ancient history, and overall just making me wish that I was her friend so we could cackle together.

My notes overall ended up being mostly phrases or sentences that just struck me as awesome:

• simile used when discussing evolution: "You can be as fragile as a dictator's ego and still have attributes that prop you up, keep you alive in the current environment, and lead you to successful reproduction." (p 14)
• "When it comes to evolutionary studies of sex, gender, and genitalia, guess who the "winners" are?* [footnote: *Men. It's men.]" (p 15)
• "In this work, they used what they called "haptics" and every one else calls "dildos"" (p 30)
• "Lest I come across as unamused and far too earnest, I do think that genitalia and fart jokes can be hilarious." (p 46)
• "Frogs collect of an evening round the pond," (p 65)
• "Given that the human penis couldn't stab through a perfectly ripe avocado," (p 77)
• "The genre of "arthropod (and invertebrate) sex films" is small but mighty." (p 77)
• "This is a very fighty kind of bird, considering that they all apparently agree to go condo together." (p 84)
• "Who hasn't needed, at some point, to reach a neighbor with a lengthy protrusible organ, even if it was just spraying them with a water hose? If you're a barnacle, ..." (p 86)
• "[footnote: *The noise that they make is called "orgling."]" (p 106)
• p 132 she discusses her previous teaching and describes herself as showing slides and "intoning" and then says "I was obviously electric in the classroom."
• some great neologisms like "intromittens" (used frequently) and "tuatararium" (a terrarium for tuatara, p 216) which often is accompanied e.g. by "[footnote: *Yes, I made this word up.]"
• on p 288 I was caught off-guard by the phrase "squad goals" used w.r.t. mites
• "got his Twitter account... suspended for violating Twitter rules, which we all know is almost impossible to do if you're a white male." (p 243)
• "Lest I attract unnecessary derision (only necessary derision, please), no, I do not really think that..." (p 257)
• "This particular, not especially long (in words, but oh, the psychic pain lingers) paper uses the word "penis" more than a hundred times and the word "phallus" sixty times." (p 268)

Overall the book was interesting and suggested new ways of considering and engaging with these issues, and I liked it. I probably wouldn't have read it if not for the squid on the cover, though, so I know my own vulnerabilities.

This post's theme word is lepodactylous (adj), "having slender fingers or toes." I will not be able to consider mittens for the lepodactylous without thinking of arachnids.

End-of-year cleaning: podcast subscriptions

It's the end of the calendar year so I'm upping my recurring donations to charities and artists. And suddenly... my hard drive is full? This seems ridiculous because I haven't done anything data-intensive in months.

A short investigation later...

A truly incredible 119G of memory stores unlistened-to podcasts. In a year of actively subscribing and donating to things, this 2020 garbage fire of using my attention and privilege to do better, it is time to unsubscribe from some stuff.

Podcasts from which I'm unsubscribing, sometimes hundreds of episodes behind:

• David Tennant Does a Podcast With...
  David Tennant interviews various guests and makes them say like two sentences and an anecdote for every separate fact he extracted from a whirlwind tour of their Wikipedia/IMDB page. This just never held my attention enough for me to listen to the episodes.
• Dissect
  This is a really fantastic music analysis podcast but it requires a lot of attention and the host's voice and production values just didn't ever push it to the top of my queue, so it has languished for several years. Alas, pruned! I'm still subscribed to three other music analysis podcasts so if some truly incredible song comes along I will hear about it, even in my digital monkish seclusion.
• Jordan, Jesse, GO!
  The original podcast. An extremely good way to feel not-lonely and not-isolated when in grad school abroad, but in the years since it has not held my attention. At one point the hosts themselves called out that they are a stereotype of "two white guys discussing their childhood video games with no particular agenda" and over time I've developed more varied and diverse podcast interests. (Sometimes their guests promoted the guests' podcasts, which I subscribed to and found more interesting.) And I guess I no longer feel America-sick, since I live back here now.
• Social Distance
  The pandemical podcast from The Atlantic. In March was comforting to have a daily podcast of people also worrying and sharing information, then they exhausted the low-hanging fruit of topics and became less interesting and less relevant, then I had enough mental space to do my own research and reading and I haven't listened in several months. (I still read some related columns but they are much faster to get through than the podcast.)
• This American Life
  I found other things more interesting and haven't listened --- there are more than 8G of these episodes alone. I have since heard some spot-on parodies of the tone and style that were so perfect that subsequent listening to the actual show is dimmed in comparison.

Several others are on my watchlist --- doing inventory reminded me of my interest in the podcasts, but I hadn't listened in a long time. If I don't listen to them by the end of December, I'm also going to unsubscribe and delete all those files.

This is what happens when I've already KonMari-ed my excess clothes, books, furniture, childhood memorabilia, shoes, electronics and cables, and piles of miscellaneous cruft. My documents are in organized folders, my photos are sorted, my finances are in order. If I were any more responsible it would ooze out my pores and be even more repellent than my already-achieved levels of disgusting competence. \end{humblebrag}

This post's theme word is autotelic (adj), "having purpose, motivation, or meaning of itself; not driven by external factors." Autotelic cleaning and organizing gets its own chapter in my autobiography, but blogging just gets an incomplete sentence fragment footnote... if I get around to it.