An infinite succession of presents

This was supposed to be a roundup

Well. This was supposed to be my usual monthly roundup.

With creativity links and thoughtful asides and joyful internet randomness, but I don’t have it in me this time.

But I told the gods of capitalism that I’d share some free books with you, so I am. (It’s at the end if you want to skip this part.) If escapism is your coping mechanism, then may it bring a small dose of relief.

It feels like everything is on hold now—plans, dreams, living our damn lives in peace and dignity. I know that sounds dramatic and of course we’ll still do our laundry and eat and hold each other and do our jobs because we have to.

Life was far from a utopia before but now it barely feels possible to imagine something better.

And the hate bots and the trolls have sprung from their internet caves to shout that women don’t have rights over their own bodies and sling racial slurs and gay slurs and other hateful rhetoric.

So, great—four more years of this? Ten? A lifetime?

I’ve been writing novels these last few years,…