WTF Friday: Things I SHOULD Like But Don’t

Every so often, one of my friends will take a look at my Goodreads page and, after studying my history, recommends a book.  I like, nay, I daresay I love, this.  I love recommendations.  Some of my favorite books and I have met via recommendation.  I don’t even mind when Amazon tells me, “Because you liked this, you should take a look at that.”  The algorithm is no less legit than the human connection-drawing goo inside out skulls and, quite frankly, Amazon has a pretty good long-term view of my reading history.

There are two things that prop up frequently, in my recommendations list — well, okay, one person and one thing; or however you would classify a sub-genre — I should, at least on paper and in the algorithm, be crazy about.  The person is China Mieville and the sub-genre is steampunk.  The first: dystopian sci-fantasy, linguistics, corrupted angels?  Yes, please.  The later: Victorian, Rube Goldberg science, gears, and magic?  Indeed.  Both fit my profile and my sensibility, bring not just a few, but a cubic buttload of my favorite things together in to perfect packages.

Hypothetically.

In reality, however, I’ve started several Mieville books and I have yet to finish one.  Even Perdido Street Station, the blurb of which caused me to drool with anticipation.  This is not, repeat NOT, a knock on Mieville.  He’s a phenomenal writer and his words are fucking magical.  Luke, my dearest pod-partner, is a huge fan and, while he and I don’t always agree, when he tells me he thinks I’ll like something, I usually do (see Hawkeye and Gotham Central).  With Mieville, I struggle.  I force myself to hit the halfway point and reevaluate.  Inevitably, I set the book aside and don’t pick it up again.

Why?  I don’t have a fucking clue, I swear to Cthulu and all his tiny squid babies. I want to like these books.  I start each on in anticipation of adoring it.  I pick out tiny details to cling to, wait for them to blossom into true love.  And i get jilted at the altar.  Again.  I’m disappointed every time.  So I try again (yes, I am aware of the Holmesean definition of insanity, that you very much).

Proof that the explanation, “it’s just one of those things,” is completely legit.

The mojo just ain’t there.

My issues with Steampunk I can explain and shall do so here.  Happily.  Has anyone seen my soapbox?

Many — perhaps even most — SP novels are written with an eye toward utilizing the conceits of the sub-genre rather than using the conceits to suit the story.  For example: THERE MUST BE AN AIRSHIP.  But the story takes place in Atlantis!  THERE MUST BE AN AIRSHIP.  Or, THERE MUST BE A REBELLIOUS HEROINE WHO HAS POOR JUDGMENT AND GETS HERSELF INTO TROUBLE.  You see though, if she doesn’t deliberately trip the shady character with the mechanical arm and the weird smelling cigarette with her umbrella, if she just goes into the shop and… POOR JUDGMENT!  Or EVERYONE MUST WEAR GOGGLES!  LADIES SHOULD RIDE SIDESADDLE EVEN WHEN FLEEING VAMPIRES AND, SHOULD SHE FALL OFF, SHE WILL BE DEVOURED.  Thus, even when the author’s ideas are original and vibrant, they get shoved into alchemical tubes and ground through wooden gears and hit with sword canes and umbrellas until they fit.  Genre, kids, is what you need when you’re shelving things at the bookstore or the library.  If you get cuffed, put into a straight jacket, spit masked, and bungee corded to a dolly by it, you’re taking things a little too seriously.  Write your story.  Let the steampunk flow as it may; use it to wrap up the whole instead of breaking that whole down into component parts. <addendum: I should clarify that I am speaking here of steampunk written  material only.  The aesthetic aspects I am completely on board with.  I do, in fact, own some really spiffy goggles as well as other assorted paraphernalia.>

Two very different experiences with the same result, one completely inexplicable, on entirely… splicable.  Not everyone likes every book.  Not everyone is going to like your book.  Not every one likes my book (not that I have a huge sample).  What these reading experiences have taught me is that it’s okay.  In fact, it’s fantastic.  If we all liked the same books, we’d all write the same books.

*Shudder*

How horrible would that be.

So read Mievelle.  Proudly.  Flaunt that steampunk shit.

Or not.  Totally up to you.

Thoughts?