Fair Play: How Sports Shape the Gender Debates by Katie Barnes

I'll start by saying that I think a more accurate subtitle for this book would be something like "A discussion of the gender controversy in sports in the United States, and how it has been weaponized by the Trumpian Right Wing" 

That makes the book a bit of a puzzling read for me because:

• I am not an American
• I am not a sports person

But given how the very existence of trans people (particularly trans children) has become a key way for current "conservative" parties to generate outrage, I thought this book could be a timely and perhaps informative read.

My thoughts? 

First of all, Katie Barnes is an excellent journalist.  They have been covering trans folks in American sport since 2016 (the book was published in 2023), and bring their in-depth knowledge, personal experiences, and full professionalism to the discussion. This feels particularly impressive given that Barnes was a child athlete and is trans themselves. No matter how understandable it might have been for Barnes to write either a rant or a polemic, they have not done so.  Instead Fair Play is a thoughtful and well-informed book that benefits from Barnes' empathy, insight, and deep knowledge of the subject matter.  Throughout they go beyond the obvious to tell the human stories of people like Lia Thomas or Mack Beggs (who are more often treated as talking points than people), while also diving into what we know about the science of gender-based athletic difference, the history of post Title IX American women's sport, and the known history of trans/intersex people's involvement. 

In other words, Barnes did an excellent job with Fair Play.  

Does that mean that I think everyone should read this book? The answer for me would have to be, yes but. And the reasons for that but really boil down to the fact that fundamentally, this is a sports book and an American book:

• Example #1:   Barnes expresses as a supposed truism that "Sports are important; all kids should be able to play them".  This sounds admirable, but I don't believe sports as a whole actually believes that in any real way.  For example, when some of the trans/gender-non-conforming athletes interviewed for this book speak about how they felt isolated or excluded within their sports, my gut reaction was "I'm so sorry you experienced that, but that's sports and sports people for you. That's exactly what they're like." 

In other words,  I find it sad but unsurprising that gender-non-conforming kids have the same experience within sports that I did as an unathletic nerdy child. 

• Example #2:  The book is full of "inside baseball" details about American sport. The most literal example comes when Barnes describes the experiences of a kid who started their sports career playing girls softball before transitioning. I have sympathy for the difficulties that kid faced, but:

•  the idea that softball is gendered as a female is weird (which Barnes acknowledges. Unlike in Canada or Australia, in the US softball is purely a women's sport.)  
•  the idea that softball and baseball are somehow completely different sports is hilarious to me. (I played league softball as a kid.  IIRC, the differences are underhanded pitching in softball vs. overhand pitching in baseball, a different ball, and a few minor rule differences around strikes and outs. In other words, softball and baseball are essentially the same sport! We aren't comparing rugby and rhythmic gymnastics here.) 

In other words, as with many books, its specificity is both its weakness and its strength. Which is to say, once again, that fundamentally Fair Play is both an American book and a sports book.  

My last observation is that I found the discussion in Chapter 8: The Breakup in Women's Sport heart-breaking.  This is where Barnes covers the attempt of a group of 'old school feminist sports advocates' and a group of 'new school LGBTQIA+ activists' [my words, fwiw] to come up with a common position and an agreed-upon set of policies around trans inclusion in women's sport. 

They failed. 

The resulting fracture was seized upon and weaponized by those who wanted nothing more than to stoke hatred and division (ie/ Trumpian politicians). You could say that we are seeing the repercussions of that failure everywhere today (including in the despicable laws recently enacted by the Alberta government).

What happened?  

A reductionist view is that one side favoured "fairness" while the other favoured "inclusion". But in some ways the division reminds me of a division that I've seen in the world of computer programming.  

To be a good UI designer (and to make a truly awesome user interface), your designs must make the tasks that most people do most of the time easy and intuitive. Sure, there are less-common tasks, and there are people who need to do unusual things. But if your user interface focuses on that 20%? Disaster. Most people will dislike your software, avoid using it, use it incorrectly, or even hate it.

On the other hand, to be a good back-end programmer, you need to obsessively concentrate on edge conditions. If you don't account for every 'uncommon' case that could possibly happen, your code will fail -- probably spectacularly and at the worst possible time.  In other words, to make a system work you need to spend 80% of your time concentrating on the 20% of edge conditions that could make everything fall apart. 

 In the world of computer programming, the best software comes from teams with both sets of skills, of course, where each kind of expert can focus on their area of expertise. Then the team can work together to build something great.  

But outside of the technical sphere? Well, even within it we live in a world with UIs built by back-end specialists, and back-ends that fail because they don't account for easily predictable situations. And outside? I wonder what kind of software we'd have if every bug was treated as a deliberate provocation and if stoking outrage was a goal written into the product specs?

Overall, Fair Play is an interesting and often thought-provoking read. 

The Third Rule of Time Travel by Philip Fracassi

One of the reasons that I write these blog entries is that they help me clarify my thinking about a book. That means that writing them is work -- I'm not just putting my thoughts 'on paper', I'm thinking things through as I write, which typically means a fair number of false starts and rewriting. I see words on the screen and what I've written leads to new thoughts, or sometimes I realize that what I've written is not really what I meant.  After that there's the process of making the sentences and paragraphs into a coherent narrative.

None of this is really a problem, but as I was writing an entry on The Third Rule I started thinking about generative AI. I used to follow a Tech Writing blogger, who is now all in on using AI in his work.  A relative told me this summer that he uses AI to help him generate Linked In content to support and promote his business.  Could I use AI to make writing a blog entry easier?

I put what I'd already written and some bullet points outlining what else I might add into Claude AI.  

I'm sharing the results below.  <spoiler alert>  I didn't actually complete a blog entry using Claude. </spoiler alert>  In fact, the whole experience soured me on completing this blog entry at all!  But I thought I'd share the process in case anyone finds it interesting.

-------------my original opening paragraphs and notes---------------

Here's what I fed into Claude, with the instructions to complete a blog entry for me.

First rule of time travel: You can only travel to a point within your own personal past. Second rule: Your trip can only last 90 seconds. Third rule:  You can only observe.

This is a fast-paced SF thriller. As the book opens we are time travelling to the plane crash that killed the protagonist's immediate family when she was a teen. From there the pace rarely falters as The Third Rule follows its scientist heroine as she struggles to keep her professional and personal worlds from unwinding.

Parts of this book work really well -- I literally gasped when I realized (via a throwaway line) that one of the rules of time travel had just been broken.  The science of time travel is well-done too, and the explanation of how it all works is interesting and plausible. I also liked the way Fracassi added the time travel explanation to the story by introducing a journalist who needs things explained to them -- because the presence of the journalist is a key plot point in Beth's struggle to save her life's work from rapacious capitalists. In the end, the explanation ratchets up the tension rather than slowing down the action. 

Beth's grief at the death of her husband and the impact of that grief on her life 

Points I want to make:

Good Side

• The premise of this kind of limited time travel is interesting.
• I literally gasped when I realized (via a throwaway line) that one of the rules of time travel had just been broken.  
• The science of time travel is well-done too, and the explanation of how it all works is interesting and plausible. 
• I also liked the way Fracassi plausibly added that explanation to the story by introducing a journalist who needs things explained while making the very presence of the journalist a key plot point in Beth's struggle to save her life's work from rapacious capitalists. In the end, the explanation ratchets up the tension rather than slowing down the action. 

Bad Side

• Beth was one note emotionally: she is constantly devastated by past trauma, angry, impatient, stressed and always falling apart
• Jim, the billionaire owner of the Langan Corporation (and Beth's boss) is a cartoon capitalist villain
• Supporting characters are inconsistent/not well drawn
•  Tariq is Beth's assistant,  and is mistreated / ignored by Beth until he suddenly reveals himself to be her biggest supporter and a holder of critical info
• Jonathon the therapist: is he supporting Beth, or betraying her to corporation? There are mixed messages, and in the end I honestly wasn't clear. 
• There is a Chekov's gun situation with Abigail: she takes Beth aside to tell her that despite appearances, she has Beth's back, and then nothing comes of it

• Means of resolving the story was unsatisfying: basically, 'there are some things humans just can't understand', and then everything is mysteriously resolved, the end.

------------Claude's First Draft ----------------

And you can see below what Claude gave me.  My reaction -- OMG this is terrible.

A Time Travel Tale That Almost Sticks the Landing

Book Review: "The Third Rule of Time Travel" by Philip Fracassi

Philip Fracassi's "The Third Rule of Time Travel" presents an intriguing take on temporal mechanics wrapped in corporate thriller packaging. While the book delivers some genuinely clever moments and solid scientific groundwork, it stumbles when it comes to character development and narrative resolution.

What Works Well

The premise itself is compelling—Fracassi constructs a limited time travel system with specific rules that feel both innovative and plausible. Rather than the usual "anything goes" approach to temporal manipulation, these constraints create real tension and stakes. The science behind the time travel mechanism is surprisingly well-researched and explained in ways that enhance rather than bog down the story.

Speaking of explanations, Fracassi makes a smart narrative choice by introducing a journalist character who naturally needs the complex concepts spelled out. Rather than feeling like an exposition dump, this device becomes integral to the plot as the journalist's presence directly impacts Beth's struggle to protect her life's work from corporate exploitation. It's elegant storytelling that actually ratchets up tension instead of deflating it.

The book's standout moment comes when a seemingly throwaway line suddenly reveals that one of the established time travel rules has been broken. I literally gasped when I caught it—a testament to how well Fracassi had established the rules and their importance. These moments of realization make the reader feel genuinely clever for paying attention.

Where It Falls Short

Unfortunately, the character work doesn't match the strength of the concept. Beth, our protagonist, operates on a single emotional register throughout: devastated, angry, impatient, and constantly falling apart from past trauma. While trauma responses can certainly be persistent, Beth's one-note emotional state becomes exhausting rather than sympathetic.

Jim, the billionaire antagonist and owner of the Langan Corporation, feels like he stepped out of a cartoon about evil capitalists. He lacks the complexity that would make him a truly compelling villain—he's simply rapacious capitalism personified without nuance or believable motivation beyond pure greed.

The supporting characters suffer from inconsistent development. Tariq, Beth's assistant, spends most of the book being mistreated and ignored by Beth, only to suddenly emerge as her biggest supporter with crucial information when the plot demands it. Jonathon the therapist sends mixed signals throughout—is he Beth's ally or will he betray her to the corporation? Beth's trust in him wavers without clear reasoning, leaving readers unsure whether this ambiguity is intentional characterization or simply unclear writing.

Most frustrating is the Chekov's gun situation with Abigail, who takes Beth aside for what feels like a significant moment to assure her that despite appearances, she has Beth's back. This setup promises a payoff that never comes, leaving the scene feeling pointless in retrospect.

The Unsatisfying Resolution

The book's biggest disappointment comes in its resolution. After building intricate rules and complex corporate machinations, Fracassi essentially throws up his hands and declares that some things are beyond human understanding. Everything gets mysteriously resolved without clear explanation, leaving readers who invested in understanding the system feeling cheated. It's a frustrating cop-out that undermines the careful worldbuilding that came before.

Final Verdict

"The Third Rule of Time Travel" succeeds as a thought experiment about temporal mechanics and corporate overreach, but fails as a fully realized story. The clever premise and well-integrated exposition show Fracassi's potential, but the weak character development and unsatisfying resolution prevent the book from reaching its full potential. Time travel enthusiasts might enjoy the novel approach to temporal rules, but those seeking rich character work or a satisfying conclusion should look elsewhere.

Rating: 3/5 stars

A promising concept that doesn't quite deliver on its potential.

---------------------- Michelle edits Claude --------------------------

I thought what Claude came up with was terrible, but both the blogger and my relative had said that in order to get something usable they needed to edit the AI's initial output and/or do a second prompt with feedback on the initial AI output.  

So I started editing. But I gave up in despair before I was done because:

• it wasn't fun
• it wasn't going to be less work than actually writing an acceptable blog entry myself.  And it felt like the end result was going to be inferior too.

When I gave up on editing the AI output, I also decided not to try doing a second prompt.  (See reason #1).

Overall I'd have to say that using AI for a writing task was a fail. Even if you could argue that the failure is on me because I didn't try a second prompt. But I'm willing to live with that.  :-)

<I originally had the text of my attempt to edit Claude below.  But I removed it because I didn't get very far and it wasn't very interesting.>

Night Shift by Natalka Burian

 I found Night Shift on the Science Fiction shelf at the library, but reading the book has made me reflect on book genres and categories of fiction. 

The protagonist of Night Shift lives in 2000s era New York City, working both as a bartender and as a baker. That means that after serving the last drinks of the evening, she dashes across town to a bakery where she makes fine pastries for the morning 'coffee and a pastry' crowd. She can't be late for her second job -- the cafe opens at 6am whether the pastries are ready or not -- and she can't afford to lose the bakery gig because she needs the money to make rent.  But the bar job often runs late and the subway is unreliable, so she is pleased and relieved when a new acquaintance shows her a 'shortcut' between them.

'Shortcuts' are mysterious portals that let you transition between fixed locations within the city -- say from a storage closet in a diner to the backroom of a bar miles away.  Iggy tells Jean that 'everybody knows' about these secret passageways, but all that means is that a few insiders know that they're there (including the staff of the relevant businesses), and that everyone believes that these shortcuts are dangerous, although no one really knows why.

The novel revolves around Jean discovering how the shortcuts really work, how they were created, and who made them.  

So far so good. That's a solid SFF premise. If the explanation leans mystical, the book is Fantasy. If the explanation leans scientific, the book is Science Fiction. Clear, right?

But somehow the book doesn't feel like Science Fiction (even though the explanation turns out to be hand-wavingly sciencey). Instead, I think this is the kind of book agents are looking for when they say that they represent "Speculative".  Sure, the book includes an element of the fantastic (whether scientifically explained or not), but the characters live in the real world that we all share, the protagonist's personal journey and relationships are the heart of the story, and while the fantastical element is important to the plot, it's not important to the protagonist? I'm not sure how to else to explain this last part, except to say that what matters to Jean is the well-being of her former boss, her missing friend, and reconciling herself with the traumas of her past. She fundamentally does not care about the portals. It doesn't even occur to her to say "Teleportation. Holy shit!" And when it becomes clear how the shortcuts were created, no one starts thinking about how TELEPORTATION of all things could be useful or threatening or transformative for society. 'Shortcuts' are simply dangerous, uncomfortable things whose existence needs to be covered up, even for the corporate evil-doers who caused them to exist in the first place. 

That's not a very science fiction way of telling a story.  

There are probably other markers that make this feel more like 'contemporary fiction with speculative elements' than SF that I might be able to figure out if I spent more time thinking about it -- pacing? story arc? -- but in the meantime all I can say is that despite appearances, this is not a genre novel. I find that interesting and a little puzzling, despite my analysis that claims to explain why.

Killers of a certain age by Deanna Rayburn

I've tagged this one "mystery" but it's really more in the vein of "thriller".  

Our heroines are just-retired assassins who were employed by a private organization that was originally founded to hunt down and kill Nazis who had escaped ordinary justice. Now the four sixty-year-old women are reunited for a retirement cruise. We see their glory days as assassins in flashbacks that show them posing as stewardesses, nuns, archeology students and more to carry out elaborate killing plots that rid the world of various drug dealers, crooked bishops, and yes, even elderly Nazis.

In the present day, the women reminisce about their past while commiserating about lost loves, post-retirement life, and the inexorable symptoms of aging -- until one of them notices something that seems wrong, and they are launched into an adventure that requires them to use all of their skills to survive.

This book has a light-hearted tone at odds with the rather brutal murders that are sprinkled liberally across its pages. Because (of course /s) the very idea of a deadly 60 year-old woman is ridiculous.

I could fault the premise, but it seems to form the basis of the entire 'unlikely assassin' genre: it's certainly the rationale behind books like An Elderly Lady is Up to No Good and the entire Mrs Polifax series.

Killers is entertaining despite its many improbabilities and numerous plot holes, and delivers pretty much exactly what you'd expect on every page.  3/5 stars.

Trees against the wind: The birth of prairie shelterbelts by William R. Schroeder

 When you drive across the Canadian prairies, you'll soon notice that most farmyards are surrounded by trees. This isn't an accident. For 111 years, the Canadian government operated a prairie agroforestry program to support homesteading, control erosion, and enhance agricultural production. Over its lifetime  the Prairie Shelterbelt Program (its final name) gave away 175 million trees, free of charge, to Canadian farmers in Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba. It changed the face of the prairies.

Growing up in Saskatchewan, I was familiar with shelterbelts. Some farms, particularly in the south of the province, had fields bordered by long hedgerows.  Almost every farm had a rectangular box of trees surrounding its farmhouse, barns, and equipment sheds.  I never questioned this: it's just how farms were. 

Trees Against the Wind explains.  The Indian Head Forestry Nursery Station (and later the Saskatoon Forestry Farm) were founded by Norman Ross, who oversaw a research program that identified the best trees for planting on the prairies and established the horticultural techniques needed to successfully grow them. Ross also created a nursery program that grew millions of trees annually, devised shipping techniques for seedlings that ensured the trees reached farmers alive (even in the days when they were transported by train and horse cart), and created an outreach/extension program to mentor farmers in tree husbandry so that most shelterbelt trees survived and thrived. He also publicized and promoted the tree planting program and cultivated the political support that saved it from budget cuts more than once. He also also never hired anyone with a non-British background to a responsible position on his team, and was known for being a bit of a martinet -- and didn't earn enough money to send his only son to University.

Other things I learnt by reading this book:

• Carragana hedges are ubiquitous in the oldest parts of Saskatoon, so I've always known about carragana. As it turns out,  carragana shrubs are originally from Siberia, and were the single hardiest tree produced by the shelterbelt program. During the severe drought of the Great Depression, the program focused on growing and distributing carragana because it was the plant most likely to survive.
• The Forestry Farm Park in Saskatoon -- d'uh!-- was originally a secondary tree plantation that was founded to expand production for the shelterbelt program. It operated as a tree farm until 1966, when operations ceased and it was transferred to the City of Saskatoon.  The main park area you visit today was conceived as a 'demonstration project' to show farmers what they could achieve by planting on their farms.
• The shelterbelt program originally focused on foresting farmyards.  Most of the prairies (especially the southern prairies) were flat and featureless.  By creating a treed farmyard, famers could not only shelter their homes from the ceaseless winds, they could capture snow over the winter, and create a tiny oasis where they could grow food plants (fruit trees and vegetables) that would otherwise not survive.  In the early years of the program, homesteads with farmyard shelterbelts were much more likely to remain occupied, because they made the farm much more hospitable for farm families.
• The husbandry techniques identified by the program meant that most trees could survive without watering, even in their early stages.  The techniques included soil preparation, the depth of planting, tree spacing, the mix of species used, and frequent weeding/inter-row cultivation during the seedlings' first three years.

Who should read this book?  Anyone who wonders why the Canadian prairies look like they do today, or who is interested in the history of horticulture and forestry in this part of the world. 

Stars and Bones by Gareth L. Powell

 Another space opera!  I'm not sure why I haven't heard of Gareth Powell, because he's published many books and has been nominated for or won multiple British Science Fiction Association awards. 

Apparently Stars and Bones is the first in new series for Powell, but it reads like a stand-alone. Well-written, well-plotted, with both some interesting original ideas and some borrowed ones (there were elements that reminded of both The Expanse and Ancilliary Justice.)  

The book grabbed me harder than Stina Leicht or L.M. Sagas, although I'm not entirely sure why. Because it had a gripping adventure plot? (instead of centring the relationships? Not that relationships aren't important -- our heroine takes some foolish risks to rescue people that she cares about.)

I'd be up for reading more books by Powell, although for me they fall into the category of "that's  entertaining" rather than "that's amazing".

Psalms for the End of the World by Cole Haddon

 Why?  Why do I feel compelled to finish books?  The world is full of books, my time on this earth is limited, and there is no reason on earth to spend any of it reading books that I'm not really enjoying.  (Other than my recent obsession with meeting my Goodreads/Storygraph annual reading goals. Four books ahead of schedule as of today!)

Yes, I struggled to finish this one.  Yes, I did finish it.  

Was it a bad book?  Not at all.  The cover quotes reviews saying things like "Mind-bendingly clever and utterly gripping" and "Ingenious" and I can see where those comments come from.  It's well-written too.  

What's my problem? A number of things. The book has to overcome the fact that it leans into a couple of tropes/conventions that are not generally my favourites:

• Multiple characters, multiple timelines, multiple storylines that have no clear connection
• Reader is lost amongst a random, confusing set of situations in a universe where much of what happens makes little sense.  Rules of the world need to be inferred over many pages (Reader only begins to understand the overall situation about 125 pages in.)

Basically, Psalms 'buries the lede'. Which is not all bad.  Not every book needs to be (or should be!) an adventure full of characters saying "As you know Bob, if the graffelgrommit fails we're all DOOOOOOMED!"  

Equally though, does any book need to be stuffed full of graphic descriptions of post-WWII torture murders of Nazis?  Alongside conquistador murders and slavery torments and beatings by racist cops? Especially when all of these gruesome storylines are actually pretty peripheral to the main plot? They're more in the line of illustrations of the fact that we are operating in a universe with  <spoiler>  many parallel and interconnecting simulated worlds </spoiler>.

Why did I finish?  Because the 125 pages point was well-calibrated. (Any later and sorry, I'm not intrigued, I'm frustrated and bored.)  Because the writing was vivid, and the situations were gripping and/or intriguing (especially the ones that didn't feature graphic violence).  Because I wanted to see how everything came together. (Hallelujah. It did! In books like this it doesn't always.) Because the book had an editor (my guess :-) who insisted on the rare chapters that included clear explanations.  Because I could skip the most graphic descriptions of horrible things.

But mostly, because I'm stubborn.  Otherwise I'd have stopped at about page 250 (of 538).