After reflecting upon Days at the Morisaki Bookshop, I went back and re-read Among Others. Most books are worth reading once, but Among Others strikes me as being particularly brilliant (or "brill") upon a second reading. Written as a diary, the book narrates Morwenna Phelps' experience as an alienated mid-teen in a boarding school after surviving an adventure in which she loses a twin, runs away from home, and meets her father for the first time.
Like many nerdy kids, her primary refuge was in books. The book references come early and often, and the nice thing about the kindle edition of the book is that you get direct links to various books in the kindle store. One of the books referenced didn't have a link and I looked it up and to my horror discovered it was Zelazny's The Dream Master, which was selling used for $77.34, and not to be found at the library anywhere.
The book has many elements of an autobiography. Having met Jo Walton, she walks with a limp and of course, her repertoire of science fiction novels and knowledge is unparalleled. But anyone who grew up loving books and science fiction will enjoy the depiction of a reader's first discovery of Robert Silverberg's Dying Inside.
Reading this book made me remember how ephemeral meetings and friendships were in the 1980s and 1990s. People would move and change phone numbers and you'd never see them again. There were no smartphones or location sharing apps, so if someone was late or couldn't make it you wouldn't know if it was because they were in an accident or if they decided to stand you up. And if you wrote someone a letter and they lost your address or just never wrote back you had no idea why.
Most of all, the book is about the need for a social connection. Even the nerdiest of book lovers (like Morwenna Phelps) feels the need to discuss the books they read with like-minded individuals, and back in those days there was no internet (and nowadays maybe there's no internet either, as many online forums have turned into toxic waste dumps). The book reminded me of meeting a classmate for the last time when the semester was over. She saw the book I was reading (Lord of Light) and exclaimed, "You're reading the classics!" We chatted about the books we'd read in class, our lives after graduation, exchanged addresses, and despite exchanging a letter or two, never saw each other again.
Among Others deserves both its Hugo and Nebular awards. I should buy my own copy instead of checking it out from the library every time!
“You’re so lucky,” Wim said, surprisingly. “Lucky? Why?” I blinked. I am not in the habit of thinking I am lucky, even when my leg isn’t strapped to a rack. “Having a rich father who reads SF. Mine thinks it’s childish. He was okay with it when I was twelve, but he thinks reading at all is sissy and reading kid stuff is babyish. He roars at me whenever he catches me reading. My mother reads what she calls nice romances, sometimes, Catherine Cookson and that sort of thing, but only when he isn’t in the house. She doesn’t understand at all. There are no books in our house. I’d give anything for parents who read.” (kindle loc 3501)
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