Lectures et réflexions

Photo by Evan Bench, austinevan on Flickr

Photo by Evan Bench, austinevan on Flickr

J'ai appris récemment, comme l'ensemble de l'internet, le merveilleux concept japonais de  tsundoku: le fait d'acheter des livres et de les laisser s'empiler sans les lire, du moins en vue de les lire. Je suis aussi coupable que vous tous en ce point, bien que mes piles de livres sont maintenant quelques peu moins hautes, surtout parce que mes piles sont aujourd'hui plus virtuelles qu'actuelles. J'ai une quinzaine de livres physiques en attente, mais une centaine de livres électroniques encore à lire.

Je constate que mon rythme de lecture s'est considérablement ralenti depuis le début de la session d'été. Durant l'année scolaire, je passe beaucoup de temps dans le train, ce qui me donne du temps à lire. Cet été, je passe mon temps devant mon clavier, à répondre à mes étudiants, à écrire des évaluations de manuscrits, à rechercher des articles à venir et à me frapper le front sur mon clavier en désespoir.

Ceci dit, j'ai quand même lu quelques livres avec grand plaisir depuis la mi-mai, surtout les vendredis après-midi et les lundis matin.

D'abord, j'ai lu deux manuscrits d'une amie qui les a terminés (écrits au complet!) en moins de deux mois consécutifs. Vous ne serez pas étonnés qu'elle a mal aux poignets ces temps-ci. Ce sont deux romans, très différents et très bons, particulièrement le deuxième. Elle est d'ailleurs à écrire la suite de ce dernier. Le premier roman doit sortir en janvier 2015: c'est un slipstream qui devrait intéresser le marché des lectrices de littérature régulière, plus que des lecteurs de science-fiction. Le second est une science-fiction historique. Oui, une science-fiction qui se passe il y a environ 3000 ans. Je ne peux pas dire plus, mais j'ai hâte à la suite.

J'ai lu, en une demi-heure, la merveilleuse édition du discours de Neil Gaiman à l'University of Arts de Philadelphie Make Good Art.  Non seulement le texte est extraordinaire et inspirant, le design du livre par Chip Kidd est de toute beauté. Un must.

J'ai relu Le congrès de futurologie de Stanislav Lem. Il est aussi drôle qu'avant.

J'ai aussi relu Le portrait de Dorian Gray d'Oscar Wilde, aussi perturbant qu'avant.

Ce n'est pas beaucoup, mais si je compte les 12012 nouvelles et articles scientifiques que je lis par semaine, je n'ai tout de même pas arrêté de lire. 

Les prochains à lire: The Ocean at the End of the Lane de Neil Gaiman,  Alif the Unseen de G. Willow Wilson et China Mountain Zhang de Maureen McHugh. Et le deuxième volume de la SF historique de mon amie, quand elle l'aura terminée. Elle écrit à toute vitesse ces temps-ci, alors ce sera certainement avant la fin de l'été.

Hi. My name is Tournevis and I'm a born again tabletop gamer.

Time has come for me to abmit it. I am a gamer.

I always was a gamer, but I have been off gaming since 1989. With good reasons, but with age comes maturity and (hopefully) the end of some self dilutions. This is the story of one of them.

Dice, by Jonny Watt, aka Swiss Boneson Flickr

Dice, by Jonny Watt, aka Swiss Boneson Flickr

 I stopped tabletop gaming in 1989, at the same time as I gave up drinking. I was drunk when I gamed and when I gave up the juice I gave up the dice as well. I got rid of everything. All my games, my dice. With the exception of one deck of LO-Vision regular poker cards, because these are rather difficult to find. When I met he who would become my husband, a year later, I even made him give up gaming too. Yes, he got rid of his dice set (very basic red polyhedrals he kept in a vintage Sucrets tin) and his AD&D books for me. He is a very good and patient man.

In the following years, I tried to occasionnaly play simple family board games from time to time, and it would be dreadful for me. Literally deadful: I would get anxiety attacks playing Monopoly. SkipBo would make me sweat bullets. To top it off, I discovered I was a pretty bad loser. To be perfectly honest, I probably always was a terrible loser back when I drank too, but I don't remember much of it, on accounts I was drunk most of the time. I do remember not having a lot of fun and getting into loud arguments with fellow gamers, and it's probably a sign of just how bad a loser I was.  But I had stopped gaming. I was literally off my game! It did not stop the attraction to gaming one damn bit.

So for some two decades, I resorted to watching every video game show on tv, reading gaming mags in stores, going to Toys'R'Us and pining over all those pretty boxes (I thought that family games might be less dangerous than serious games, somehow). Mostly, though, I sat at the table whenever a card game or a boardgame was played in the same building I was in and I watched, attentively, for hours, studying the strategies, enjoying the gameplay and the repartie, loving every minute of it, all the while trying not to pee my pants for fear of joinging in.

In my silly little brain, boozing and gaming were so closely associated, they had the same effect on me. And my fear of drinking was merged with a fear of gaming. 

Stupid brain. 

Fast forward to 2011. My husband (the same as above) and I adopted a marvelous little boy. We were now responsibe for the forging of this little person, for teaching him everything from talking to walking to, yes, playing. And I realized I was scared of playing. I was scared of games. This could not be. My parents had not been into games much at all when I was a child, except for the occasional Scrabble night in the 1970s to which I was certainly not invited, because of too much cigarettes and scotch, because the 70s. I cannot say that my parents taught me to play, or to game, ever. My husband's family were card players, avid ones. We still have the booklets used to keep score in the endless games of 500 and Hearts. My husband and his brother even invented a card game, some trick taking thing they call "le jeu".

But I could not place the entire onus of teaching our son play and games on his father. It would not be fair to either of them. So I discerned, for about a year.

At the beginning of 2012, I decided that I needed to set myself straight and start to teach my son gaming. He turned two and I introduced him to the wonderful things that are dice. I bought him giant foam polyhedrals, as well as a full set of 22mm polyhedrals and an assortment of d6 of the same size. He loves them. We are learning numbers on them, though they are as often used as train cars or as meal for the imaginary fish we will be cathcing from the confort of our couch-cum-sailboat.

I bought a set for myself too. Then I bought more. Then I started buying tabletop games, mostly dice games, because that's always what I loved the most back in the day. I also started watching Wil Wheaton's TableTop show on Geek and Sundry and I came to the realization that I was a born again gamer.

So I bought DIxit and all the expansions and I brought it to a friend's house we were staying in last Christmas and we played. I played. I got beat so badly it was pityful. And it was all marvelous. 

Since then, I have participated in a bunch of Kickstarters for a bunch of games, all but one dice games. And I love it. 

Last night, I played solitaire on the living room table while my son played something with another deck of cards. We had a ball.