This is the nicest way someone's put it. I've tried to switch to Linux three or four times but until there is a distro that makes it plug and play like Windows or mac its going to be a tough sell. I consider myself tech savvy enough (I can google things, and for goodness sake at the bare minimum I can cut and paste into the terminal) but the barrier for getting Linux to work is too high right now for a very large part of the population.

I have W10 computer running the arrs and my plex server that I'm going to have to figure out as I can't get W11 on it.

I want to do it so bad!.... but I think I'll probably just end up getting a new, used computer that can run W11

Just finished Spinning Silver by Noami Novik. It was not bad, Uprooted was a much better read.

About to jump into Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell

Glad you're like the Dresden series. It gets better with each book (granted, I never read any of the novellas)

The Blade Itself - Joe Abercrombie

The Survivors

The lapping of water in his ears. That was the first thing. The lapping of water, the rustling of trees, the odd click and twitter of a bird.

Logen opened his eyes a crack. Light, blurry bright through leaves. This was death? Then why did it hurt so much? His whole left side was throbbing. He tried to take a proper breath, choked, coughed up water, spat out mud. He groaned, flopped over onto his hands and knees, dragged himself up out of the river, gasping through clenched teeth, rolled onto his back in the moss and slime and rotten sticks at the water’s edge.

He lay there for a moment, staring up at the grey sky beyond the black branches, breath wheezing in his raw throat.

“I am still alive,” he croaked to himself. Still alive, in spite of the best efforts of nature, Shanka, men and beasts. Soaking wet and flat on his back, he started to chuckle. Reedy, gurgling laughter. Say one thing for Logen Ninefingers, say he’s a survivor.

A cold wind blew across the rotting river bank, and Logen’s laughter slowly died. Alive he might be, but staying alive, that was another question. He sat up, wincing at the pain. He tottered to his feet, leaning against the nearest tree trunk. He scraped the dirt out of his nose, his eyes, his ears. He pulled up his wet shirt to take a look at the damage.

His side was covered in bruises from the fall. Blue and purple stains all up his ribs. Tender to the touch, and no mistake, but it didn’t feel like anything was broken. His leg was a mess. Torn and bloody from the Shanka’s teeth. It hurt bad, but his foot still moved well enough, and that was the main thing. He’d need his foot, if he was going to get out of this.

He still had his knife in the sheath at his belt, and he was mightily glad to see it. You could never have too many knives in Logen’s experience, and this was a good one, but the outlook was still bleak. He was on his own, in woods crawling with Flatheads. He had no idea where he was, but he could follow the river. The rivers all flowed north, from the mountains to the cold sea. Follow the river southwards, against the current. Follow the river and climb up, into the High Places where the Shanka couldn’t find him. That was his only chance.

It would be cold up there, this time of year. Deadly cold. He looked down at his bare feet. It was just his luck that the Shanka had come while he had his boots off, trimming his blisters. No coat either—he’d been sitting near the fire. Like this, he wouldn’t last a day in the mountains. His hands and feet would turn black in the night, and he’d die bit by bit before he even reached the passes. If he didn’t starve first.

“Shit,” he muttered. He had to go back to the camp. He had to hope the Flatheads had moved on, hope they’d left something behind. Something he could use to survive. That was an awful lot of hoping, but he had no choice. He never had any choices.

It had started to rain by the time Logen found the place. Spitting drops that plastered his hair to his skull, kept his clothes wet through. He pressed himself against a mossy trunk and peered out towards the camp, heart pounding, fingers of his right hand curled painful tight around the slippery grip of his knife.

He saw the blackened circle where the fire had been, half-burned sticks and ash trampled round it. He saw the big log Threetrees and Dow had been sitting on when the Flatheads came. He saw odd bits of torn and broken gear scattered across the clearing. He counted three dead Shanka crumpled on the ground, one with an arrow poking out of its chest. Three dead ones, but no sign of any alive. That was lucky. Just lucky enough to survive, as always. Still, they might be back at any moment. He had to be quick.

Logen scuttled out from the trees, casting about on the ground. His boots were still there where he’d left them. He snatched them up and dragged them onto his freezing feet, hopping around, almost slipping in his haste. His coat was there too, wedged under the log, battered and scarred from ten years of weather and war, torn and stitched back together, missing half a sleeve. His pack was lying shapeless in the brush nearby, its contents strewn out down the slope. He crouched, breathless, throwing it all back inside. A length of rope, his old clay pipe, some strips of dried meat, needle and twine, a dented flask with some liquor still sloshing inside. All good. All useful.

There was a tattered blanket snagged on a branch, wet and half caked in grime. Logen pulled it up, and grinned. His old, battered cookpot was underneath. Lying on its side, kicked off the fire in the fight maybe. He grabbed hold of it with both hands. It felt safe, familiar, dented and blackened from years of hard use. He’d had that pot a long time. It had followed him all through the wars, across the North and back again. They had all cooked in it together, out on the trail, all eaten out of it. Forley, Grim, the Dogman, all of them.

Logen looked over the campsite again. Three dead Shanka, but none of his people. Maybe they were still out there. Maybe if he took a risk, tried to look—

“No.” He said it quietly, under his breath. He knew better than that. There had been a lot of Flatheads. An awful lot. He had no idea how long he’d lain on the river bank. Even if a couple of the boys had got away, the Shanka would be hunting them, hunting them down in the forests. They were nothing but corpses now, for sure, scattered across the high valleys. All Logen could do was make for the mountains, and try to save his own sorry life. You have to be realistic. Have to be, however much it hurts.

“It’s just you and me now,” said Logen as he stuffed the pot into his pack and threw it over his shoulder. He started to limp off, as fast as he could. Uphill, towards the river, towards the mountains.

Just the two of them. Him and the pot.

They were the only survivors.

Same here!

Although I do love "Blame Brett"

They've been getting a lot of attention in Canada but "The Beaches" have been my jam lately

I'm a teacher. I'm looking forward to summer vacation starting June 29th where I get to have 66 days off to be with my 3 kids. They're now at a really fun age and I can't wait

Popstar is a classic and underappreciated in my circles

25% of men's hair will thin before 21

80% by 50

This is the craziest thing to me...

I live in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. I put my boots or shoes on at the door before I go out, and I take them off when I get home. If I get cold feet, I may put on slippers.

Inside the house, I'm bare foot or in socks. If I take the trash out and it's nice, I go out barefoot. If it's snowy or frigid cold (I'll leave the Winnipeg weather up to you for a fun google) I put on my boots.

I don't know anyone who wears shoes indoors unless they are elderly and need the support. It's a sign of middle age / senior age living here.

I have been loving the expanse!

Book 4 was so well done and book 5 was so fun getting a look under the hood with the other crew on the Rocinante.

The Expanse gets recommended in the same breath as Red Rising all the time but I just don't see it. Red Rising is more hot and cold, like an action movie. The Expanse is like watching the Sopranos or... Se7en

15 Lives is a good read and a standalone novel. I like it when something is good and isn't a 3+ book commitment.

Also see: sunk cost fallacy

I think OP meant to say

"his ace in the hole" but either speech to text or fat thumbs got in the way

Sincerely,

A guy with fat thumbs who uses speech to text

I use this on my Chromecast. It's far prettier than the monstrosity that is that Google Chromecast home screen

Dresden!

Just finished the First Fifteen Lives of Harry August. Great book with a great take on time travel - highly recommend if you haven't read it.

The Cytoverse books are great - I haven't read the last one yet (even though I preordered it haha)

Just finishing "The Churn" before I start Expanse #5

I just preordered Stormlight 5 so a Stormlight Archives reread might be happening soon.

Left for Dead 3

Harry Potter The Martian The Cosmere (all for Sanderson's cosmere I've done a few times) The First Law Trilogy

One I will reread but just haven't yet: Uprooted Codex Alera Legends and Lattes

4 years ago next week marks my mom's diagnosis and the 10 months that followed. Watching your loved ones go slowly insane and become unable to speak and move in such a short time (she was mid 50s) when they should be healthy changes you. Everything I look at, everything I think about is now looked at under a different lense. And given my age, there just aren't a lot of people around me who have any idea what it's like and assume it's just handling the pain.

Like... no. I'm different now.

Before the reddit api, I used to read around 24-28 books a year depending on length (Sanderson's tomes will always change that number because it's like reading 2 or 3 regular books)

Last year I hit 35. I didn't really read books over 1000 pages much last year but I definitely know I'm reaching for a book when I would normally doomscroll reddit.

I found the Bear and the Nightingale slow and probably needed to pay better attention to the characters as sometimes they would use nicknames that were close to names. I'm sure its some people's cup of tea but it wasn't for me. I found Uprooted to be everything I wanted it to be. Bear is based on Russian folklore and Uprooted on Polish. So there were some similarities in styles but I found it just moved quicker and I found myself liking the characters more.

Lattes was fun. Nothing over the top but since it's supposed to be a story that takes place AFTER the sword is hung up it makes sense. It was enjoyable and it helped me completely understand the "cozy fantasy" sub genre that spawned from it.

"Between the world and me" was one of my 3-6 non-fiction reads of the year. I try to grab some that push me outside my norm/comfort zone (Swords, wizards, space lasers, etc). As a white man, not from the USA, it was interesting to read his perspective. On the flip side, I'm not sure why a teacher was almost fired over it (or at least that's why it was in the news)

I'm a dad for 3 littles so I have lots of down time to knock off books. Before them I had way less time for reading because I wasn't home bound everyday by 7:30pm haha

Welcome back friend! I was actually thinking of you the other day - I haven't seen a books thread in awhile (it probably has more to do with my sporadic Lemmy attendance)

Since Jan, I read some more of the expanse (just started book 4) and its been good.

I read book 1 of "The Bear and the Nightingale" and likely won't read the rest. Immediately afterwards I read the book "Uprooted" and it was So good. It was everything I wanted the bear to be.

Finally got around to Legends and Lattes, and I listened to (and laughed my ass off) to Seth Rogan's book.

I also read "Between the World and Me". It took me awhile as I don't generally like. Non-fiction (especially reading vs listening) but I wanted to give it a crack as I saw it was on the news for some book ban thing in the USA.

All in all, if anyone cares, check out Uprooted by Naomi Novik. It's a standalone novel and only around 400 pages. Moves and progresses nicely and the characters are good.