I have an RSS reader, but I never open it.

I have a Twitter account, but I forget about it for weeks at a time.

I have a Facebook page, but I don’t ever log in.

I still do most of my web browsing the same way I did back in the dim dead days of Netscape Communicator, only with a couple more bells and whistles.

I think I’m becoming one of those Old Cranky Guys, and I’m not even thirty yet. What the heck.

A little stumpy robot head with arms and legs:

Fused to a bigger robot:

Which is piloting a larger version of itself, formed from a space battleship:

Which it itself the power core of an even larger version of itself, formed from a space battleship the size of the moon:

Which is itself the core of a robot two light years high.

The robot is powered by the will of all mankind.

It is fighting the enemy of not just mankind, but of every living thing in the universe.

In episode 21 or thereabouts, the third iteration of the giant robot punches a battleship of the enemy fleet so hard that it flies into another universe.

In the final battle, the giant robot and the leader of the enemy race, which has also taken the form of a giant robot two light years high, are fighting in a pocket universe. They fight by picking up miniature galaxies and throwing them at each other like ninja stars.

Where do you go from there.

And, dammit, now I need to find some Valrhona.

I picked this book up on the recommendation of the SF Site Reader’s Choice poll and wasn’t disappointed. The action takes place in the vaguely-Italianate city of Camorr; the world that surrounds it is not particularly fleshed out (it doesn’t need to be), but is haunted by the indestructible, diamond-like towers and artifacts of a vanished race.

Our titular hero is a thief-priest, raised in the service of the god of thieves to be a thorn in the side of the aristocracy. Together with his compatriots, the Gentleman Bastards, Locke has already pulled off several successful swindles to the tune of tens of thousands of crowns and is now prepared for the biggest con of his life. When, naturally, matters are complicated by the ducal secret police, warring crime lords, and a representative of a magocracy that has reduced entire kingdoms to ashes…

The story pulls off a pretty good tightrope-walk: it has what I’d call “cinematic” action, but without going over the line into ludicrousness. The characters are all a little bit larger than life, but they aren’t invincible heroes—some of the scenes will really make you feel the pain. The episodic nature of the book (each chapter is followed by an “interlude” regarding Locke or the other GBs’ training, or some crunchy bits regarding the world) almost gives it a movie-serial feel, with frequent cliffhangers and “how’s he going to get out of this one?” moments. It kept me turning pages—I read it straight through in one session, stayed up until 3:30 AM, and was in a rotten mood for work the next morning. Not bad at all, and I’ll definitely be picking up the next one (Red Seas under Red Skies) when it hits later this year.

So right now I have 32 books on my nightstand (it’s a hell of a nightstand) and I can’t bear to return any of them. I think in future, instead of immediately mashing the “hold item” button when something catches my fancy I’m going to make an entry here and keep track of things that way.

Of course, this just leaves me open to Netflix Queue Disease, in which you have three hundred items that you want to get around to someday… but new things are coming out every day. I wonder if anyone has actually studied the possibility of people who are simply addicted to media. If not, I offer myself as a guinea pig.

Maybe I’ll actually think of something worthwhile to do with it this time. Although I’m not holding my breath.