The blog of Luther M. Siler, teacher, author and local curmudgeon
Did I end up spending most of my free time this weekend playing Nioh 3 again?
Yes. Yes, I did.
Did I end up beating the DLC?
Yes. Yes, I did.
Did I then realize that they’d added a third difficulty level, and I haven’t beaten the second yet, so I have some work to do before the second DLC comes out?
Sigh. Also yes.
Nioh 3: The gift that keeps on giving.
Goddammit.
I don’t like writing negative reviews of books by authors I like. I especially don’t like it when authors I like write two books in a row that I have to write negative reviews for. Kuang’s sixth book, Katabasis, wasn’t a bad book, and I didn’t dislike it, necessarily, but when you’re coming from an author whose books have nearly all ended up on my end-of-year best-of lists, a book not doing that is a downgrade. But I said in the review of that book that it might have fallen victim to my own expectations for it, and that I wanted to reread it at some point, and I still plan to do that.
Here’s the second-worst thing I can say about Taipei Story: it’s the first of Kuang’s books that I’m nearly certain I’m never going to revisit. Here’s the worst thing I can say about Taipei Story: if this was my first R.F. Kuang book and not my seventh, I would not be planning to pick up her next book.
And yet I’m still not willing to call it a bad book. If you are interested in character studies, and if the idea of spending just shy of 300 pages in the head of an American college sophomore who has moved to Taiwan for a ten-week intensive summer Chinese program sounds like something you might want to read, you will probably like this book! I am, unfortunately, not that reader. Character studies really aren’t my thing, and while I generally don’t need my books to be about people who are like me– I read about wizards and dragons and space aliens, for fuck’s sake– Lily is so closed off and so internal that I couldn’t find a way to care about her. And while I’ve studied enough languages to know that a ten-week residential Chinese course would be insanely difficult, it … doesn’t make for a good story, unfortunately. Lily doesn’t really do much over the course of the book. She doesn’t get along with her roommate, she has the most insanely awkward sex scene in the history of the written word, and that’s really about it.(*)
The meat of the story is supposed to be about when her grandfather dies, a grandfather who she barely knows because she lives in America and he’s still in China, and it leads to this mental crisis where Lily feels like she was learning Chinese to get to know her family and her history, and one of her few connections to China has just died, and her grandmother is sliding into dementia and barely remembers her most of the time. She has a few conversations with her mother where it becomes clear that she doesn’t really know much about her family’s history, partially because she never asked and partially because no one ever bothered to tell her anything, and she has a bit of a breakdown for a while, and I can imagine someone who finds this really fascinating, but it’s just not me.
I’m also frustrated because for the second book in a row I feel like forces external to the book have affected my opinion of it. In the case of Katabasis it was the pre-reading checklists and the idea that the book was super complicated and deep and you needed background knowledge to properly appreciate it that was circling around, and it just turned out to not be true. In the case of this book, Kuang’s grandfather literally died while she was in Taipei at an intensive residential language study. I would really like her next book to Not Be About Her. Do I get to tell her what to write? No, I don’t. Do I get to be disappointed by her choices anyway? I do. But the big difference between Kuang and Lily is that Lily is 19 and Kuang’s experience was in her late twenties, so she’s written Lily as less mature and able to process her feelings than she thinks she was, and again, it just didn’t work for me.
Again, the book’s not bad by any means, and I’m still in on day one for whatever she writes next. But this one just didn’t work for me.
(*) It was awful. I had to put the book down and walk away for a while. Like, the scene was supposed to be alienating and kind of creepy and weird, and it succeeded so much in that goal that it made me not want to read the book any more for a while. That’s sort of a compliment? But I’m still cringing from secondhand embarrassment right now, and I finished this book three days ago.
It is possible that you just read this piece and are surprised that I didn’t address The Controversy. That is because I find The Controversy to be so fucking stupid that I lose brain cells every time I think about it. If you are unaware of The Controversy, do yourself a favor and don’t look into it. If you are upset by The Controversy, go touch some fucking grass and find a real problem, you zygote.
A whole lot of kids brought their grades up in class today.
No discipline problems.
Heard good things from several staff members about how pleasant covering my classes yesterday was, and even the ones with things to say were careful to say things like “It was just those two; everyone else was great.”
Found out that one of my least engaged students is really, really good at geography.
My Math Lab kids chewed this problem up and spit it out:
Came home and beat the hell out of some yokai. Tilapia and potatoes for dinner.
And now I’m going to go read until it’s time for bed.
Okay, I lied, I’m going to post an update. I put up this post, with the image below, in late January of 2024:
That’s 72 kids failing out of 134, with 22 kids getting zeroes. Now, this is third quarter– third quarter sucks. My kids’ grades will be worse on January 20 of 2027 than they are right now. So this isn’t a completely fair comparison.
But today was a catch-up day, which is exactly what I was doing on that day up there. And I put a message on the board today, too. And after each class, I updated the numbers. And right now, of my 112 kids who are in my regular 8th grade Math class, I have only fifteen who are failing(*) … and forty-three who are getting an A.
I’m not joking when I say this group of kids is the best I’ve ever had.
(*) That’s less than half the number of kids who were failing at the start of the day.
I called in today, after getting … maybe three hours of sleep last night? I woke up around 2:00 in the morning to take a piss. Not unusual; this happens most nights. Most nights I take care of business, put my CPAP mask on, and go right the fuck back to sleep. But every so often my brain decides that I would be more comfortable if I left the mask off and tried to sleep on my stomach. And last night the mask was occasionally singing me the song of its people, a sign that I’ve let it go a little too long without cleaning the air holes or just replacing the mask, and I succumbed to this stupid, stupid instinct.
I need it to be clear: I will always sleep better with the mask on than the mask off, and there are no exceptions. I don’t know how I survived as long as I did without the CPAP mask. It is virtually impossible to get good rest without it unless I’m deathly ill, and what’s happening under those circumstances rarely counts as “good rest” anyway. My brain convincing me to try and sleep on my stomach without the mask is mental illness. There’s no other reasonable way to describe it.
What’s worse? You would think that after an hour of tossing and turning and being conscious of the fact that I’m not breathing correctly, I would put the mask back on? No. On these nights, I can never convince myself to put the mask back on. I’m always right about to fall asleep, and “waking up” (I’m already awake, and miserable) to put the mask on would be a bad idea.
It would not be a bad idea, it is in fact the only thing that will allow me to break the cycle and go the fuck back to sleep, and yet I don’t do it. Some nights I can pull this mess off and not be a disaster the next day. I could tell within minutes of “waking up” this morning that school was just not happening, and I was blathering and incoherent for most of the day.
It sucked and I hate my stupid broken brain and my stupid broken fat body.
Money isn’t real, so let’s not bullshit: I’m totally ordering one of these fucking things next month. I didn’t realize I was going to until today. Seriously, if you’d asked me yesterday I’d have said buying first-gen Apple tech isn’t always a great idea, I’ll wait another year, and after remembering the launch event and going to apple.com earlier this afternoon I was halfway done with my preorder before I realized that I couldn’t actually preorder yet.
Basically my trade-in (for a phone, remember, that I bought last year) is going to be enough that it makes the unreasonable price for the 256gb model slightly less unreasonable. So … fuck it.
I had something else. Pardon me for a moment, while I stare at the screen.
… yeah, dammit, it’s gone. I can always post again if I remember whatever the hell I wanted to talk about, right? Not only is money not real, rules about blogging definitely aren’t real.
Shit, right! Tomorrow is dead asshole day! I am not especially looking forward to being a middle school teacher on dead asshole day. Most of my kids had no idea who Charlie Kirk was until he got his head blown off, and his entire existence is literally a joke to them right now. I still occasionally will hear kids singing the We are Charlie Kirk song quietly to themselves in the hallway; most of them, if presented with the opinions of the actual smirking shitstain behind the song, would correctly identify him as a horrible person, and then would sing the song again. I continue to believe that him getting shot in the fucking neck three seconds after making a racist joke about gun violence is the most objectively funny thing that has happened in years; the fact that it was a groyper nitwit who did it just makes it even better.
There’s a lot of people online who are promising to convert to Christianity or return to God if It Happens tomorrow; I am not one of them, but you will hear me laughing regardless of where you are in the world, and you will likely hear news stories about the middle school math teacher who got fired for taking off his pants and running through the hallways cackling and yelling blasphemies immediately afterward.
So. Y’know. You’ve got that to look forward to. Cross your fingers.
I got a new R.F. Kuang book today, along with the second installment of He Who Fights with Monsters, and the middle of those three September 15 arrivals is China Miéville’s new doorstop, which is one thousand two hundred pages. And I’m probably going to order the special edition of Tad Williams’ The Dragonbone Chair, out September 29, (and 672 pages) because it gives me an excuse to read that series for the first time and the new hardbacks are stunning. However, I need to make sure the other books in the series are getting the same treatment, because God forbid they don’t match.
In other words, now that my lesson planning is finished, I’m going back to my chair, because Warlords of Wyrdwood isn’t gonna finish itself and I need to get to the Kuang book soon. There is Discourse that I’m missing, damn it!
This was one of the most purely fun movies I’ve seen in a while.
I had an epic Labor Day weekend, y’all. Got two projects done around the house that needed doing. Read two and a half entire books. Took naps. And, wonder of wonders, last night my wife and I watched a movie.
This movie has been out for a while, and I’m far from convinced that my opinion matters at this point, but I think if you’ve ever played D&D in your life you probably owe it to yourself to give this a watch. If you never played D&D or are otherwise unfamiliar with the fantasy genre in general, I’m not sure how well it will hit with you– the interesting thing to me is that the harder the movie leaned into the Forgotten Realms setting, the less I liked it. For some reason, references to Baldur’s Gate kept tossing me out of the movie, and Elminster himself makes an appearance that just felt weirdly inappropriate. It’s rare that I think something should have been more generic, but at least for me this movie could have been pulled out of the Realms and dropped into its own setting and I would have been fine with it.
That’s my only complaint, though. Everything else I have to say is positive. The cast is excellent across the board; I’ve never had any particular feelings about Chris Pine one way or another but he’s perfectly cast as a bard, and Michelle Rodriguez’s barbarian character is a lot of fun as well. Everyone is really pretty and I feel like the director had a goal with the cast to push back a little bit on the idea that fantasy fiction has to be white– there are a ton of racially-ambiguous brown people in this movie, and Pine’s Ed is in an interracial marriage, and their daughter Kira, played by Chloe Coleman, is freaking adorable. Hugh Grant is perfectly cast as a slimy con man, the villain is creepy as fuck, and in general the group dynamics make you feel like everyone had a lot of fun making this movie. The movie isn’t precisely a comedy but where it’s funny it’s funny, and the action sequences were genuinely awesome. There’s a bit at about the 1/3 mark where Rodriguez’ Holga character wins a fight with a paving stone she pries out of the road at her feet, and her fights are always full of improvised weaponry and creativity. They’re amazing, and there’s never any question about what’s going on. I wasn’t expecting action this well-shot from this movie, and it was great to see. Bigger action directors should learn from it, honestly.
Plus? Owlbears. Gelatinous Cubes. Freakin’ displacer beasts. A fat dragon. If they’d found a place to stuff a Hook Horror into the movie they’d have hit nearly all of my favorite D&D monsters. If you thought for even a minute that you might enjoy this, give it a watch while it’s on Netflix. Thumbs way up.
No better use of my Labor Day that I can think of than taking away work from a fine union electrician by installing new lights in the Shitty Bathroom (TM) by myself, and by “by myself” I mean “with the capable assistance of my wife everywhere my fat hands and massive body wouldn’t let me reach a screw.” I did do all the wiring, though, so y’all can use this as evidence when the house burns down. It’s okay, I’m union too.
Turns out the first time we did this job we didn’t use properly damp-resistant lighting, so they both needed replacement. This means that over the course of this weekend I fixed a recliner and wired two lights, so my masculine virility is off the chart right now.
More later, I have a nerd movie to review, and remember: people fought and died for the right to a five-day, forty-hour work week. Solidarity forever.