Ultimate Fitness: The Quest for Truth about Exercise and Health, Kolata. Non-fiction. Kolata recounts several personal experiences in a multi-decade journey of discovery that leads her to the conclusion that we don’t know a whole lot about what kinds of exercise are good. (Disclaimer: my book club source indicated that I could extract everything I needed from chapters four and ten, so when chapter two ground to a halt for me, I took the out, though I did also read the epilogue) The bottom line seems to be that doing any exercise for a half hour (cumulative) a day several times a week generates the largest payoff (i.e., the difference between not exercising at all and moderate exercise is greater than the difference between moderate exercise and more (dare I say) extreme measures). As the child of a long-time runner, I am not at all surprised by her observation (though I don’t believe she puts it in quite these terms) that those who exercise heavily and frequently are addicted to the physiological response. I also found echoes of Michael Pollan: Pollan says to avoid any food whose labels include health claims; Kolata tells us that the only thing that matters for weight loss is calories in vs calories out, and anyone who says differently is selling something (though this doesn’t prevent her from being a devoted Spinning® enthusiast).
Several myths are punctured in the course of the book (even in the course of the few chapters I read), but I’d hate to think anybody will be too surprised to find that the benefits of exercise programs are supported by shaky or absent research, or that becoming a certified instructor takes nothing but money.
Finally, there’s a thing that irritated me, but I’ll spare the casual reader by putting it on the other side of a jump.
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Miracle and Other Christmas Stories, Willis. Yes. This was a book club recommendation, though I don’t need much encouragement to read Connie Willis. I enjoyed the collection more than I would have expected given that I’m not much of a fan of novelty (especially holiday) literature, but somewhat less than I would have expected given that I’m a substantial fan of Connie Willis. Some of the stories were also included in Winds of Marble Arch, but that did not significantly impair my enjoyment.

This Mortal Mountain: Volume 3: The Collected Stories of Roger Zelazny, ed. Grubbs, Kovacs, Crimmins. Yes. Apparently, nothing struck me as noteworthy in this volume, as I took no notes. The Neil Gaiman introduction is especially lovely, and I’m grateful that they chose only one portion of the serialized Creatures of Light and Darkness to include here.

Nose Down, Eyes Up: A Novel, Markoe. Yes. I love Merrill Markoe. I’ve been a fan of her work since the mid 80s, when I figured out how much of what I found funny on a then-favorite show was her responsibility. That said, I did not love this book as much as I wanted to. The characteristic I can most easily identify as jarring is that the first-person narrator is a guy. I can’t say for sure whether the fault is in me or the writing: maybe if I had been reading it without having my expectations dialed to “Markoe,” I would have completely believed that a guy who was doing the things the narrator was doing was also thinking the things the narrator was thinking. I fear, though, that if I hadn’t had my expectations so dialed, I would have simply put the book down.

Children of the Streets, Ellison. Yes. After reading a bunch of early and less-known Zelazny, it has been interesting to read this early and somewhat less known Ellison. In both cases, the writer’s strong voice preceded the truly great writing. This is clearly early Ellison, both of a different time, and from a less-practiced writer: the seams are laid out for inspection, the prose ultraviolet. Not to say that Ellison’s prose has moved very far down the spectrum over the years, but it has definitely modulated a bit.
As an example of what I’m chalking up to inexperience, the narrator in the opening story (“No Way Out”) is distractingly omniscient. There’s no need to wonder what’s going on in a character’s head; no sooner has a character appeared in the story than the narrator lets us know thoughts, fears, hopes, and motivations.
Still, withal, compelling story-telling.