In Which I Dance

Or rather, in which I prepare to rehearse. Tomorrow is the first rehearsal of the Daddy-Daughter Dance, part of Mia's upcoming ballet recital in which -- you guessed it -- daddies dance with their daughters. Those of you who know me will certainly recognize the comic potential. I don't know what to expect, but I am fairly certain I will not actually have to perform ballet. As long as I am not expected to do much more than shuffle lazily about, I should be fine. There might be pictures. If so, they will be destroyed.

I recently finished reading Kevin Brockmeier's The Brief History of the Dead, and was disappointed. I'd go into the specifics, but it's easier for me to link to Matt Cheney's review over at The SF Site; I agree with most of what he says, although I think he's a bit more forgiving than I am.

I've since started reading Bernard Cornwell's Sharpe's Rifles. I've heard Cornwell's name pretty frequently as an example of good historical adventure fiction, but somehow managed not to read him until now. I'm about halfway through the book and it's a blast. It's not up there with Patrick O'Brian's astonishing Aubrey-Maturin novels, but then again I've just started. We'll see.

I also picked up Hal Duncan's Vellum, which I can't wait to start. Up until I started reading Duncan's posts on the Night Shade Boards, I thought my friend Neal Stanifer was the smartest person I knew. I guess that's still technically true since I don't know Hal Duncan, but damn ... I'd love to hear them debate ethics. In a steel cage. Two men go in. One man comes out!

Also: John Crowley has a blog! Why was I not informed!?