Four spies and some poker terms walk into a bar

I started reading Elizabeth Bear's One-Eyed Jack: A Novel of the Promethean Age a little over a year ago, in the bathtub at Mohegan Sun.

It has taken me so long to finish the book not because it wasn't good, but because I have only read it in the bath — sometimes at casinos but also sometimes not, otherwise it would have taken me even longer, especially considering the last casino I stayed at only had a shower. My copy is now very water damaged.

Anyway. I had picked One-Eyed Jack for my casino bath reading because it's about the spirit of Las Vegas fighting to keep his city from being annexed by the spirit of Los Angeles, so it seemed topical.

There are actually two spirits (or genii) of Las Vegas: the One-Eyed Jack, who has one normal eye and one magical eye he keeps hidden under an eyepatch; and the Suicide King, otherwise known as Stewart, who seems to have a magical ability to kill himself and then resurrect again. Jackie and Stewart are boyfriends in addition to sharing the job of genius of Las Vegas. This seems like it would break a lot of workplace regulations but it looks like being a magical symbol isn’t a very well-regulated field considering all the other stuff that goes down in this book.

Jackie and Stewart eventually form a coalition with several interesting characters, including two ghosts of different John Henrys, some "media ghosts" of unnamed TV spies, and vampire Elvis (though this vampire Elvis is very different from the vampire Elvis of the Sookie Stackhouse books). The antagonists include Angel (the genius of Los Angeles, in the form of a young ingénue), a character known only as “the assassin,” a Promethean Mage, and the ghost of Bugsy Siegel.

I was a bit confused about who precisely all these people were, since I am not much up on my ‘60s TV spies — nor on my Las Vegas history, really, although I do at least know who Bugsy Siegel is. But once I got used to identifying the spies by their descriptors instead of names, it was all easy enough to follow.

The book takes place mostly in 2002, and as is usually the case, I still find it a bit jarring to realize how long ago the mid-2000s were and how much it really was a different era — it makes me feel old — but it’s impossible to miss because stuff in Vegas changes so fast that, even without ever having been there, I know a bunch of the properties mentioned in the book have since shut down and new ones opened; also, Jackie wears black leather cargo pants because he is terribly cool, and it’s become hard to remember that there was a time when cargo pants really were cool and not just a shorthand for sartorial laziness. Other bits of the book take place in 1964, because that’s when all the media ghosts come from. The time travel isn’t flashy; it just sort of happens—there’s enough ghosts in the story already that visiting the ghost of 1964 isn’t that big a deal.

Since this is a spy story I don’t want to talk too much about the plot but suffice to say that, in keeping with the general theme, it, like a game of poker, features long stretches of quietly waiting and thinking about things (I don’t believe poker is ever boring) interspersed with moments of high drama that vastly change the dynamics at the table. (Poor Angel spends the first three-quarters of the book chipping up relentlessly only to spew off her entire stack in one dumb play. Been there done that; it’s awful.) All the disparate threads and meticulously solved riddles finally come together near the end to put a fast-paced and deceptively simple end to the conspiracy.

One of the unifying principles of how magic works in this book is that it relies very heavily on symbolism and stories and beliefs, reminding me a lot of Discworld if the Discworld books were about twelve thousand percent more serious. Genre savviness is important for our heroes to figure out what is going on. Gaming-related symbolism abounds, which is fitting, because gaming-related symbolism abounds in English writing anyway, only this time it’s all looked at a lot more closely than usual.

Like the other Elizabeth Bear books I’ve read, this was pretty weird and I think I’d have to read it again to figure out some of the weird stuff I didn’t get the first time around, but I’m probably not going to because I have at least three unread Elizabeth Bear books on my shelf at the moment. I always like her stuff but it tends to end up taking me a lot longer to get through than I think it’s going to.

I recommend it to anyone who likes metafictional genre-savvy stuff. Pairs well with a Lush bath bomb, a nice hotel room, and an adult beverage.

A messy Celtic Cross

Yeah, so this is the first big reading I've done since the election and I'm not sure what the hell is going on here.

I will admit to not concentrating very much when I shuffled, since I've been generally awful at concentrating at all lately. I got distracted wondering about the news and if any Democrats will ever have the guts to just stand up and ask Paul Ryan why he wants people to die next time he tries to repeal the ACA. How that man manages to live with himself I will never understand.

Anyway, there's a couple of themes here that I'm not sure I understand. The microcross has two cards both in the watery feminine mysticism vein of things; the rest of the cross is mostly coins, representing solid financial and material matters. And then the pillar ends the spread with three swords in a row (uh-oh). So... yeah.

The cover card is the Queen of Cups, the Caring Woman. She suggests an opportunity to turn inward and examine your feelings about a matter. What matter, I’m not sure? Perhaps this spread is just about my emotional state generally. The crossing card is the Moon, which represents deep instinctual forces, self-deception, dreams, imagination—there’s actually quite a lot of overlap between the Moon’s keywords and the Queen of Cups’ keywords. The Moon warns of deceit and lies and suggests I am entering a period of “fluctuating moods and uncertainty during which you must confront unconscious forces in order to succeed.” So I guess the microcross here is about my self-awareness, self-knowledge, and self-care. The main question is caring and the moderating factors are self-deceit and other internal forces where I might trip myself up, and whether I’ll be able to get a hold of myself honestly.

The beneath card is the Six of Pentacles, Generosity, which represents getting what you deserve. This is a great card to have in future-oriented parts of a reading but here it is basically the backstory—I guess saying that I am coming from a place of having been treated fairly and where I have been generous or had other people be generous to me. This is probably fair enough but I’m not sure specifically what aspect of my life it pertains to.

The behind card is the Queen of Pentacles, the Practical Manager. This worries me because this is the card that represents things passing out of existence, and this is also my signifier card. Combined with the Six of Pentacles, I’m getting a general sense that things have been going OK in the material realm in the past, or that I’ve gotten by OK focusing on the material realm, but it’s going to be time to change my focus because the material situation either won’t last or won’t sustain me. Something deeper is going on.

The above card, which is supposed to represent potential, is also a pentacle: the Two of Pentacles, or the Ups and Downs of Fortune. It refers to the need to be flexible and a situation involving juggling multiple obligations or juggling finances. This is depressing as I was really just getting back on track financially and was hoping to not have to worry too much about this going forward since I’ve got other stuff to worry about. But maybe if I take my focus off of financial issues, it’ll result in that situation getting difficult again? This card also suggests that I may need to make a decision to ease the tensions between the multiple things I am juggling, and advises me to be adaptable.

The before card is Temperance, which represents moderation and self-restraint, and is usually more useful as an advice card than as a “here’s what’s going to happen” card. I’m also not sure how it works with the potentiality/advice card. It does make some sense in relation to the microcross—that I may have to chill and be prudent when deep diving into my own psyche to fix whatever I need to fix in my emotional state—but I’m still not sure how the microcross ties in with all the pentacles cards. This card represents keeping things in balance but the card above it seems to represent trying to do multiple things that aren’t well balanced or integrated. Suggestions are welcome.

The pillar starts with the Five of Wands as the Self card, which is “A Mock Battle.” Unlike many other conflict-driven cards, this card specifically indicates that there is some sort of external conflict or rivalry going on, which obviously makes total sense as the Self card. Maybe my Self is just in rebellion to accepting that the election happened the way it did. Anyway, it’s a conflict card, and also the last card in the spread that isn’t a sword.

The House card, this being the card that does specifically represent your outside surroundings, is the Eight of Swords, the Bondage card, representing self-imposed limitation. So the card about my internal self is the card for outside conflict and the card about my external surroundings is the card about internal limitations. Can you see why I hate this reading yet? I’m sure it really does make sense somehow. Probably that I’m reacting to everything all wrong.

The hopes, fears, and expectations card is the Page of Swords, who represents quick thinking and decisiveness. Stiefvater recommends that when the Page of Swords appears, one should “channel the unbiased interest of a child” and pursue truth relentlessly. This is probably a good goal.

The final outcome card is the Nine of Swords, the Nightmare card, which basically represents… feeling terrible. Stress, guilt, loss of sleep. Much like the Eight, this card suggests that much of the pain here is basically all in your head. I guess if I keep doing what is suggested in the Two of Pentacles—i.e., too many things—the most likely outcome is that I’ll end up stressed out and nonfunctional.

I’m really not sure what I’m supposed to do with this reading, except that I really need to get my mental shit sorted out somehow. I can’t suss out any useful advice on how, since everything is so contradictory. Don’t do too many things but also do multiple things in moderation. Focus less on finances but your financial situation will worsen. Your inside is fighting the outside but your surroundings are all in your head. I don’t know.

If anyone wants to take a stab at making head or tail of this, don’t hesitate to contact me. I’m tired.

Wisdom of the olds

Somewhere in between my project to read poker strategy books in order to be better at poker and my project to read books on the history of poker and gaming so that I understand my current field better, there sat the decision to read David Sklansky’s The Theory of Poker.

The Theory of Poker is older than me, although it has since been updated a few times. I have read about it in a number of the other, more recent poker-related books I’ve gone through this year. I know it was still being used widely as a resource when the poker boom kicked off fifteen years ago or so; Kenny Hallaert mentioned it when I interviewed him earlier this fall, saying it might still be useful for beginner players.

One thing that’s instantly noticeable about this book is that it was clearly written before no-limit hold’em became the game of choice for everyone and everything. While this can get a bit confusing for a reader who really only knows NLHE at all (i.e. me), it does allow Sklansky to illustrate concepts in multiple different ways in different games. Since this book is light on math (by poker book standards, at least—obviously it’s got a bunch of stuff about pot odds and basics like that) and more about how to reason through various poker plays, such a setup is fairly useful for showing how the concepts work. There’s a lot that’s explained that I would now consider to be very basic information, but I’ve also been reading beginner-level poker books pretty much all year so I suppose it’s good that some of it’s starting to sink in.

It’s not the most enjoyably written poker book I’ve read, featuring neither the goofy jokes of Phil Gordon’s little books nor the sarcastic cracks of Alexander Fitzgerald’s Myth of Poker Talent, but it’s pretty straightforward and accessible, usually erring on the side of over-explaining rather than conciseness. It’s basically a textbook.

This is also the book that introduced the awkwardly lengthy but still very important Fundamental Theorem of Poker, which I already knew about because it’s been cited in at least five other books that I’ve read this year. The Theory of Poker explains many, if not most, of the hands illustrated within it by relating it back to this fundamental theorem, ensuring that you’ll never forget it no matter how un-pithily it’s worded.

Even though so much of what’s covered in here is also covered in subsequently written poker texts, I’m still glad to have taken the time to read this book itself. How much it will help me out remains to be seen; unfortunately, this is a library copy so I probably won’t be going over it multiple times with a pencil and highlighter like I’ve been doing with some of the other poker strategy books I’ve found. (Somebody who got this book from the library before me did go over it with a pencil, but some people have, like, no manners.) But I definitely have a better sense of what everyone else is talking about when they’re talking about this book, and that’s pretty important for getting the most out of everything I read.