Eagle's Path

Passion and dispassion. Choose two.

Larry Wall

2015-04-17: Review: The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet

Review: The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet, by Becky Chambers

Publisher CreateSpace
Copyright 2014
ISBN 1-5004-5330-7
Format Kindle
Pages 503

The Wayfarer is a tunneling ship: one of the small, unremarked construction ships that help build the wormhole network used for interstellar transport. It's a working ship with a crew of eight (although most people would count seven and not count the AI). They don't all like each other — particularly not the algaeist, who is remarkably unlikeable — but they're used to each other. It's not a bad life, although a more professional attention to paperwork and procedure might help them land higher-paying jobs.

That's where Rosemary Harper comes in. At the start of the book, she's joining the ship as their clerk: nervous, hopeful, uncertain, and not very experienced. But this is a way to get entirely away from her old life and, unbeknownst to the ship she's joining, her real name, identity, and anyone who would know her.

Given that introduction, I was expecting this book to be primarily about Rosemary. What is she fleeing? Why did she change her identity? How will that past come to haunt her and the crew that she joined? But that's just the first place that Chambers surprised me. This isn't that book at all. It's something much quieter, more human, more expansive, and more joyful.

For one, Chambers doesn't stick with Rosemary as a viewpoint character, either narratively or with the focus of the plot. The book may open with Rosemary and the captain, Ashby, as focal points, but that focus expands to include every member of the crew of the Wayfarer. We see each through others' eyes first, and then usually through their own, either in dialogue or directly. This is a true ensemble cast. Normally, for me, that's a drawback: large viewpoint casts tend to be either jarring or too sprawling, mixing people I want to read about with people I don't particularly care about. But Chambers avoids that almost entirely. I was occasionally a touch disappointed when the narrative focus shifted, but then I found myself engrossed in the backstory, hopes, and dreams of the next crew member, and the complex ways they interweave. Rosemary isn't the center of this story, but only because there's no single center.

It's very hard to capture in a review what makes this book so special. The closest that I can come is that I like these people. They're individual, quirky, human (even the aliens; this is from more the Star Trek tradition of alien worldbuilding), complicated, and interesting, and it's very easy to care about them. Even characters I never expected to like.

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet does have a plot, but it's not a fast-moving or completely coherent one. The ship tends to wander, even when the mission that gives rise to the title turns up. And there are a lot of coincidences here, which may bother you if you're reading for plot. At multiple points, the ship ends up in exactly the right place to trigger some revelation about the backstory of one of the crew members, even if the coincidence strains credulity. Similar to the algae-driven fuel system, some things one just has to shrug about and move past.

On other fronts, though, I found The Long Way to be refreshingly willing to take a hard look at SF assumptions. This is not the typical space opera: humans are a relatively minor species in this galaxy, one that made rather a mess of their planet and are now refugees. They are treated with sympathy or pity; they're not somehow more flexible, adaptable, or interesting than the rest of the galaxy. More fascinatingly to me, humans are mostly pacifists, a cultural reaction to the dire path through history that brought them to their current exile. This is set against a backdrop of a vibrant variety of alien species, several of whom are present onboard the Wayfinder. The history and background of the other species are not, sadly, as well fleshed out as the humans, but each with at least a few twists that add interest to the story.

But the true magic of this book, the thing that it has in overwhelming abundance, is heart. Not everyone in this book is a good person, but most of them are trying. I've rarely read a book full of so much empathy and willingness to reach out to others with open hands. And, even better, they're all nice in different ways. They bring their own unique personalities and approaches to their relationships, particularly the complex web of relationships that connects the crew. When bad things happen, and, despite the overall light tone, a few very bad things happen, the crew rallies like friends, or like chosen family. I have to say it again: I like these people. Usually, that's not a good sign for a book, since wholly likeable people don't generate enough drama. But this is one of the better-executed "protagonist versus nature" plots I've read. It successfully casts the difficulties of making a living at a hard and lonely and political job as the "nature" that provides the conflict.

This is a rather unusual book. It's probably best classified as space opera, but it doesn't fit the normal pattern of space opera and it doesn't have enough drama. It's not a book about changing the universe; at the end of the book, the universe is in pretty much the same shape as we found it. It's not even about the character introduced in the first pages, or really that much about her dilemma. And it's certainly not a book about winning a cunning victory against your enemies.

What it is, rather, is a book about friendships, about chosen families and how they form, about being on someone else's side, about banding together while still being yourself. It's about people making a living in a hard universe, together. It's full of heart, and I loved it.

I'm unsurprised that The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet had to be self-published via a Kickstarter campaign to find its audience. I'm also unsurprised that, once it got out there, it proved very popular and has now been picked up by a regular publisher. It's that sort of book. I believe it's currently out of print, at least in the US, as its new publisher spins up that process, but it should be back in print by late 2015. When that happens, I recommend it to your attention. It was the most emotionally satisfying book I've read so far this year.

Rating: 9 out of 10

2015-04-12: Review: Zero Sum Game

Review: Zero Sum Game, by S.L. Huang

Series Russell's Attic #1
Publisher S.L. Huang
Copyright 2014
ISBN 0-9960700-1-X
Format Kindle
Pages 326

Cas Russell finds things for people, often involving some strategic violence. She belongs to that genre of action novel protagonists who have a rough code of ethics, but who don't exactly follow the law. Her friend Rio is much worse: a functioning sociopath with his own code of ethics, the derivation of which is a key plot point. When the book opens, Cas is on a mission to find a person and rescue them from a drug cartel — not her normal mission, but her contact said she was referred by Rio. Oh, and Rio is currently hitting her in the face.

This setup matches any number of present-day thrillers. The SFnal twist is that Cas is very good at numbers, in a completely unrealistic action hero way. (I found it unsurprising that Huang was inspired by the superhero genre; that's the right model to have in mind when reading about Cas.) She can calculate where bullets are going to go, knows just the right angle and velocity with which to throw things (and, even more notably, can get her body to do that), and, in one particularly memorable scene, sets up an eavesdropping sound concentrator by changing the angles of available random surfaces in the neighborhood, like trash cans. This ability is not without drawbacks. When she's not in a middle of a job, with something to focus on, she usually ends up drinking herself into a stupor to get her brain to stop working. But it's an extremely useful ability that requires the villains of this book go to great efforts to try to kill her.

The plot starts out as fairly typical thriller material, involving threats and dire consequences to those Cas loves (or at least likes a lot) and an unfolding sense that this retrieval of a kidnapped woman is the tip of a very deep iceberg. The expected counterpart, a private investigator with a less casual attitude towards killing than Cas, shows up early on. (Rio does not play that role in the story. His role is much more complex.) But the superhero inspirations show up in the villains as well, in a twist that many on-line summaries spoil, but which I will leave unmentioned.

Mostly, Zero Sum Game is a fast-moving story with lots of violence, lots of guns, shadowy conspiracies, and a hypercompetent protagonist. (Female, refreshingly, particularly since she doesn't fall in love with any of the other characters in the book.) It's a recipe for enjoyable brain candy, and I think that's the best attitude to bring to it. However, a couple of things set it apart for me.

First, Cas spends quite a bit of time really thinking about her life and questioning her decisions, rather than just blithely enjoying her world of stress and violence. There's more introspection here than in the typical thriller plot, but she stops short of wallowing in angst and stays decisive. I liked that balance: a bit of inner discomfort, and a few hard ethical decisions, but not to the point of paralyzing her.

Second, her relationship with Rio is something special. Rio himself is a character type that I've seen before in books like this, but I don't think I've seen the dynamic with a character like that handled this well before. I particularly liked that the focus of the book stayed on Cas, not on Rio, and the reader was encouraged to see that relationship as a reflection on Cas and her sense of internal ethics. Seeing Rio through Cas's eyes, and then seeing other characters react to him and react to their relationship, touched some chords that I really enjoyed reading.

Unfortunately, the villains weren't as successful, at least for me. Partly this is a personal quirk: the nature of the threat posed (not revealed for about half the book) is a kind that I dislike reading about. It makes my skin crawl in a way that I don't enjoy. But, even putting that aside, the story ends on a very odd and disturbing anti-climax. It's clearly the first book of an ongoing series, and I hope later books will salvage this. (I certainly liked it well enough to read on.) But the ending left me unsettled and rather irritated at the author. Huang plays fair, and the ending is consistent with what we know by the end of the book, but I read this sort of action-thriller story for catharsis and the glory of competent people doing what they do well.

I got deeply engrossed in this book and had a hard time putting it down. Both Cas and Rio are great characters, as are most of the supporting cast. I wish the ending wasn't quite as much of a letdown so that I could recommend it more strongly. But it's still a fun superhero thriller. If you're looking for something with unrealistic superpowers, a large helping of competence, and a high body count, this may be worth picking up.

(And no, I don't know what the series title means. I know what the series title refers to, but I haven't yet figured out what connection it or the Axiom of Choice has to the plot.)

Followed by Half Life.

Rating: 7 out of 10

2015-03-23: Review: Fukushima

Review: Fukushima, by David Lochbaum, et al.

Author David Lochbaum
Author Edwin Lyman
Author Susan Q. Stranahan
Author Union of Concerned Scientists
Publisher The New Press
Copyright 2014
ISBN 1-59558-927-9
Format Kindle
Pages 320

This is a very interesting book, and I can recommend it, but there are two things you should be aware of up-front. The packaging does not necessarily make clear what expectations you should have of it going in.

First, the subtitle (The Story of a Nuclear Disaster) should have appended to it And Its Implications for US Nuclear Power Policy. This book is very concerned with the impact of the Fukushima disaster on US policy and nuclear regulation, to the point where I think more than half of the book is about US agencies, nuclear regulatory history, and US reaction. There's nothing wrong with that, of course: the US should take a hard look at its own nuclear energy policy given the events at Fukushima, and it's a worthy topic for a book. But if you go into this book expecting a broader perspective, you will be disappointed. For example, I think the fact that France has a lot of nuclear power was mentioned maybe twice in the whole book, and French reaction was never discussed at all. There is a very detailed examination of exactly what happened at Fukushima (more on that in a moment), but most of the policy implications are examined purely from a US perspective. Even Japanese nuclear policy gets somewhat short shrift.

Second, note that the fourth listed co-author is the Union of Concerned Scientists. For those not familiar with US environmental groups, the UCS has a reputation as an anti-nuclear advocacy organization. I don't think that's entirely fair; I think the UCS's position on nuclear power is better summarized as holding that it is theoretically possible to run a nuclear power plant safely, but the actual US nuclear power industry is not very close to that standard, and it would require much tighter regulation and more investment in safety systems to reach that standard. But be aware that the authors of this book have a clear position on the adequacy of current nuclear power safety standards, namely that they aren't. And they don't try to conceal that position in this book. Personally, I prefer authors to be open about their perspective in books like this, but your mileage may vary.

There, disclaimers out of the way. I bought this book for a specific reason: I had followed some of the news coverage at the time of the earthquake and tsunami, and then (like many people, I suspect) lost track of the final outcome as the story fell out of the news and I started ignoring people who didn't understand how large the Pacific Ocean is. Now that we've had the benefit of several years of analysis and thoughtful reconstruction of events, I wanted to know what had actually happened. I'm happy to say that this book delivers quite well on that front. Roughly the first half of the book is a detailed blow-by-blow description of exactly what happened at Fukushima, at least as well as we've been able to reconstruct, told as an engrossing and dramatic narrative. There may be a little too much interleaving of reactions within the US government, which I suspect will particularly annoy non-US readers, but the level of factual detail is excellent, clear, and well-explained.

What I wasn't expecting, but was pleasantly surprised by, is that it's also a great story. There's tension, conflict, heroism, hard choices, and moral quandries, and the authors do a great job conveying factual information while still giving the reader the sense of being in the middle of the unfolding drama. They resist the urge to disclose all the results of later analysis in the middle of the story, which may provide a slightly less clear view of the disaster, but which makes the telling far more compelling. I usually read non-fiction more slowly than fiction, but Fukushima dragged me in. I found myself grabbing moments to read just another few pages.

Unfortunately, this is only about half the book. The other half is a mix of other things that won't have as broad of appeal: an analysis of the challenges of US nuclear regulation, a history of the US nuclear power industry, and a presentation of the authors' opinions about the best path forward for regulation of nuclear power in the US. Since I'm a US citizen and resident with an interest in both nuclear power and regulation of nuclear power in my country, I found this interesting, if not as engrossing as the rest of the book. But it felt a bit oddly tacked on, and I think it's a stretch to say that it's part of the story of Fukushima.

The authors try to draw that link by presenting the Japanese nuclear power industry as heavily influenced by their US counterparts, and their regulatory problems as similar to the problems in the US, but there is nowhere near enough detail about Japanese regulatory practices here to support that conclusion. I think the largest weakness, and the most obvious gap, in this book is the lack of detailed analysis of the history and players in the Japanese nuclear regulatory environment. This is an odd miss. If one is concerned about regulatory inadequacy, Japanese government policy is far more obviously part of the story of Fukushima than US policy. I can only speculate that the authors had inside sources for the US policy discussions but not for the Japanese policy discussions (and, sadly, fall back on painting with a rather broad brush and making unsupported generalizations about Japanese regulatory approaches in a few spots). The result feels like two partly-unrelated books stacked and partly shuffled together.

So, there are parts of Fukushima that are rather disappointing, particularly for non-US readers. But I still recommend it as a great detailed history of the actual incident and a summary of what we now think happened. That summary is unfortunately sketchy and still very unclear, but I don't think that's the fault of the authors. The inside of a nuclear power plant during a meltdown is a very difficult environment to measure or analyze, and there's a lot of data that we will probably never have. Some details may never be known. But what we do know, and how that knowledge unfolded, is told very well.

This is the only book-length treatment on Fukushima I've read, so I can't compare it against other books on the same topic. But it satisfied my curiousity nicely. If you have a similar curiosity, I recommend this book to your attention, although be aware of its approach and its US-centric analysis going in so that you're not surprised by a mismatch of expectations.

Rating: 8 out of 10

2015-03-15: Another haul post

Wow, it's been quite a long time since I've posted something here.

Everything is going well -- I'm just very, very engrossed with the new job, since I'm still in exponential ramp-up mode. It's lasting for longer than I expected, although my expectations didn't have much basis since this is the first time I've started a new job in 17 years. I'm feeling more and more capable every day, but the combination of a very heavily social learning process, a lot of new technical areas to learn, and not having taken a vacation since last June means that my weekends are spent just passively watching things and zoning.

Not sure yet how long that will last, and I don't want to make any predictions, although I do have my first significant vacation coming up next month.

Anyway, book reading and buying has continued, although I'm again far behind on writing reviews. With luck, I'll be writing one of those (for posting later) right after writing this post.

Michelle Alexander — The New Jim Crow (non-fiction)
Elizabeth Bear — Karen Memory (sff)
Becky Chambers — The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (sff)
Fred Clark — The Anti-Christ Handbook (non-fiction)
Charles de Lint — The Very Best of Charles de Lint (sff)
S.L. Huang — A Neurological Study on the Effects... (sff)
S.L. Huang — Half Life (sff)
Kameron Hurley — The Mirror Empire (sff)
Sophie Lack — Dissonance (sff)
Sophie Lack — Imbalance (sff)
Susan R. Matthews — An Exchange of Hostages (sff)
Kaoru Mori — A Bride's Story #1 (graphic novel)
Donald Shoup — The High Cost of Free Parking (non-fiction)
Jo Walton — The Just City (sff)

Pretty nice variety of different stuff from a huge variety of recommendation sources. I've already read the Chambers (and can recommend it). A review will be forthcoming.

2015-01-10: Short catch-up haul

First weekend back home after being away for the holidays. That was a lot of fun, but it's also nice to be back home with all my stuff and my normal schedule. Apparently nice enough that today I went on a productivity binge and did lots of random chores that had been building up. Quite satisfying.

This is a catch-up haul post for a few random things that popped up over the past few months apart from a full book order.

Ibraheem Abbas and Yasser Bahjatt — HWJN (sff)
Ibraheem Abbas and Yasser Bahjatt — Somewhere! (Hunaak!) (sff)
Shannon Appelcline — Designers & Dragons: The '70s (non-fiction)
Shannon Appelcline — Designers & Dragons: The '80s (non-fiction)
Shannon Appelcline — Designers & Dragons: The '90s (non-fiction)
Shannon Appelcline — Designers & Dragons: The '00s (non-fiction)
Tor.com — Some of the Best from Tor.com: 2014 (sff anthology)

The Appelcline four-volume history of RPGs was a gift from a friend, and a lovely set of books. The first two were available for free on the Kindle (as was the last) as part of an effort to publicize Arab SF, and I always like to broaden my cultural reading horizons.

2015-01-05: Review: Code Complete, Second Edition

Review: Code Complete, Second Edition, by Steve McConnell

Publisher Microsoft
Copyright June 2004
ISBN 0-7356-1967-0
Format Kindle
Pages 960

As mentioned in the title, this is a review of the second edition of Code Complete, published in 2004. There doesn't appear to be a later edition at the time of this writing.

I should say, as a prefix to this review, that I'm the sort of person who really likes style guides. When learning a language, a style guide is usually the second or third document I read. I enjoy debates over the clearest way to express a concept in code, trying to keep all the code in a large project consistent, and discussing the subtle trade-offs that sit on the boundary between mechanical style issues and the expressiveness of programming. I try to spend some time reading good code and getting better at expressing myself in code.

Presumably, therefore, I'm the target audience for this book. It sounded good from the descriptions, so I picked it up during one of the Microsoft Press sales. The stated goal of Code Complete is to collect in one place as much as possible of the oral tradition and lore of the programming field, to try to document and communicate the techniques and approaches that make someone a good programmer. The table of contents sounds like a style guide, with entire sections on variables and statements in addition to topics like how to improve existing code and how to design a new program.

If you're starting to think that a 960 page style guide sounds like a bad idea, you're wiser than I. (In my defense, I grabbed this as an ebook and didn't realize how large it was before I bought it.)

I have not actually finished this book. I hate to do this: I don't like reviewing books I haven't finished (this will be the first), and I hate starting books and not finishing them. (This is probably not particularly wise, since some books aren't worth finishing, but I've gotten into a rhythm of reading and reviewing that works for me, so I try not to mess with it.) But I've been trying to finish this book off and on for about a year, I don't think it's worth the time investment, and I think I've gotten far enough in it to provide some warnings by others who are deceived by the very high ratings that it gets on Amazon and other places.

The primarily problem with Code Complete is its sheer, mind-numbing comprehensiveness. It tries to provide a set of guidelines and a checklist to think about at each level of writing code. This is one of those ideas that might sound good on paper, but which completely doesn't work for me. There is no way I'm going to keep this many rules in my head, in the form of rules, while programming. Much of good style has to be done by feel, and the book I'm looking for is one that improves my feel and my sense of taste for code.

What Code Complete seems to provide instead is a compilation of every thought that McConnell has ever had about programming. There's a lot of basic material, a few thoughtful statements, a ton of style advice, an endless compilation of trade-offs and concepts that one should keep in mind, and just a massive, overwhelming pile of stuff.

Each chapter (and there are a lot of chapters) ends in a checklist of things that you should think about when doing a particular programming task. To give you a feel for the overwhelming level of trivia here, this is the checklist at the end of the chapter where I stopped reading, on quality assurance in software. This is one picked at random; a lot of them are longer than this.

I'm not saying those are bad things to think about with quality assurance, but you may notice a few issues immediately. They're very general and vague, they're not phrased in a particularly compelling or memorable way, and there are a lot of them. This falls between two stools: it's too much for the programmer who is thinking about quality as part of an overall project but not focusing on it (particularly when you consider that the book is full of checklists like this for everything from variable naming to how to structuring if statements to program debugging), but it's not nearly specific or actionable enough for someone who is focusing on quality assurance.

It's not that the information isn't organized: there's a lot of structure here. And there are bits and pieces here that are occasionally interesting. McConnell is very data-driven and tries to back up recommendations with research on error rates and similar concrete measurements. It's just insufficiently filtered and without elegant or memorable summary. There is far too much here, an overwhelming quantity, and hopelessly mixed between useful tidbits and obvious observations that anyone who has been programming for a while would pick up, all presented in the same earnest but dry tone.

It didn't help that there's a lot here I didn't agree with. Some of that is to be expected: I've never agreed completely with any style guide. But McConnell kept advocating variable and function naming conventions that I find rather ugly and tedious, and the general style of code he advocates feels very "bureaucratic" to me. It's not exactly wrong, but one of the things that I look for in style discussions is to be inspired by the elegant and simple way someone finds to phrase something in code. A lot of the code in this book just felt mind-numbing. It's functional, but uninteresting; perfectly adequate for a large project, but not the sort of discussion that inspires me to improve the quality of my craft.

So, I didn't finish this. I gave up about halfway through. It's frustrating, since I was occasionally finding an interesting nugget of information. But they were too few and far between, and the rest of the book was mostly... boring. It's possible that I just know too much about programming to be the person for whom that McConnell was writing this book. It's certainly true that the book has not aged particularly well; it's focused on fairly old-school languages (C, C++, Java, and Visual Basic) and says almost nothing about modern language techniques, although it does have a bit about extreme programming. But whatever the reason is, it didn't work for me at all. I would rate it as one of the worst books about programming I've tried to read. And that's notably different enough from its reviews that it seems worth throwing this out there as a warning.

I'm quite disappointed, since I'd heard nothing but praise for this book before picking it up. But it's not for me, and I'm now dubious of its value for any programmer outside of a fairly narrow, large-team, waterfall development process involving large numbers of people writing very large quantities of code in languages that aren't very expressive. And, well, in that situation I think one would get more benefit from changing that environment than reading this book.

Rating: unfinished

2015-01-04: Review: Ancillary Sword

Review: Ancillary Sword, by Ann Leckie

Series Imperial Radch #2
Publisher Orbit
Copyright October 2014
ISBN 0-316-24665-4
Format Trade paperback
Pages 354

This is the second book in the Imperial Radch series and a direct sequel to Ancillary Justice. You don't want to read this book out of order, since the previous book sets up the background of everything that happens here. Besides, Ancillary Justice is an amazing book.

It's going to be challenging to review Ancillary Sword without spoiling the previous book. If you're planning on reading Ancillary Justice but haven't gotten to it, you may want to stop here and come back to this review after you've read it. Or, even better, just read both books. They're some of the best science fiction I've read.

Ancillary Justice started small, with one person and their quixotic search for revenge, and grew large, to encompass conflicts and confrontations that would shake the Radch. Ancillary Sword returns to a smaller scale and stays there. This means that much of what was left unresolved at the end of the previous book is still unresolved; Leckie does not continue escalating into large-scale conflict. It also means that we see a lot more of Breq making personal choices and trying to work out her own sense of morality, plus semi-adopting a couple more injured people along the way.

One of my favorite types of stories is where I get to watch someone who is very good at something do the thing that they're very good at. Breq's unique background and experience makes her a wildcard outsider with vast experience in her new role. (Not to mention the special advantages she has from her implants.) Her long experience with people, similarly from a unique perspective, lets her use her power to effectively navigate political situations while keeping people slightly off-balance. And now she has some real power, made more potent for being somewhat ill-defined.

In short, this is a story of political agency, given to someone who hasn't had it before but who is very good at using it. It's immensely satisfying, in part because it's not a simple wish fulfillment. Breq can't just reshape the world to her preferences; in fact, she can't do much about one of the social conflicts she runs into, except treat the people involved with unexpected respect. But she can occasionally do something, and she can always upset existing power structures in subtle ways, and the way Leckie writes this makes it so much fun to read.

I think one of the reasons why I enjoyed this so much is that Breq is not relentlessly introspective. She just acts. Usually this sort of book involves lots of soul-searching and analysis, and the lack is refreshing. The other people in the story analyze Breq much more than she analyzes herself, sometimes incorrectly, and Breq finds the whole thing faintly amusing. Not only does this keep the story from bogging down in too much internal drama, it means that Breq frequently surprises the reader, usually in ways that had me grinning. And, despite not mulling things over incessantly, she is growing and developing, finding her own sense of morality and and ethics in a way that's sometimes only apparent in retrospect.

The one caveat I will mention is that this is a book that concerns itself a great deal with colonialism and racial slavery, but it's a fantasy of political agency focused on someone who's part of the dominant culture. While it's not quite accurate to say that Breq is this world's equivalent of white, she can pass, and she's Radchaai. I thought the book handles the issues reasonably well, but it is still using oppressed cultures to focus on the agency and power of someone who is, comparatively, privileged. This didn't bother me while I was reading the story, but it started to bother me a little afterwards once it was pointed out. There's nothing inherently wrong with that story, but it's a rather common pattern, and I'm afraid Ancillary Sword doesn't do much to broaden the pattern. That said, it's a caveat rather than a fatal flaw, at least for me.

Ancillary Sword is obviously the middle book of a trilogy, and normally the lack of forward progress on the overarching story and the sense of filling in background and setting the scene would undermine the book. But Breq and the other characters in this world are so fascinating that I didn't mind. The ending was not quite what I expected, but worked better the more that I thought about it. I'm really looking forward to the next book.

Followed by Ancillary Mercy.

Rating: 9 out of 10

2015-01-04: faq2html 1.33 and release 1.48

These changes to a couple of my scripts were done some time ago, but I never pushed them out or announced them.

faq2html, which I use to convert package README files and other documentation to something suitable for the web, no longer tries to parse the document for leading headers when a title is specified with -t. This makes the web page generation for new copyright-format 1.0 LICENSE files a little less awful, although I really need to write an HTML converter specifically for that file format. (That will require me to figure out what a reasonable web conversion of that file format actually is.)

You can get the latest version of faq2html from my web tools page.

The release script I use to prepare and move around copies of my software releases has been updated to handle Perl distributions that use Build.PL a little better, and to generate xz-compressed tarballs if the upstream build system only generates gzip-compressed tarballs (as Perl's does). I'm moving towards standardizing on xz compression for all of my software releases, although I'll also provide gzip-compressed tarballs for the forseeable future.

You can get the latest version of release from my scripts page.

2015-01-03: Review: Programming Ruby

Review: Programming Ruby, by Dave Thomas, et al.

Publisher Pragmatic Bookshelf
Copyright 2005
Printing May 2006
ISBN 0-9745140-5-5
Format Trade paperback
Pages 785

There are a few different editions of this book. The version I read is the second edition, written by Dave Thomas with Chad Fowler and Andy Hunt and published in 2005, covering Ruby 1.8.2. There's now a fourth edition, covering Ruby 1.9 and 2.0, which is probably what you'd want if you were buying this book today. This book, in whatever edition, is called the Pickaxe in the Ruby community after its cover.

I've used a lot of different programming languages, so I can usually pick one up on the fly reasonably well, but I still like to read a good introductory book before using one seriously. It's a bit too easy to get lost or to fall into habits that don't match the best practices of the language community without a solid introduction. I've been using a bit of Ruby off and on since I started using Puppet, but I'm looking at doing more serious development using Chef, so I decided it was time to get that introduction. (It helped that I had this book sitting around, although that's also why I read an older edition.)

Programming Ruby starts with the obligatory introduction to installing and running Ruby, and then provides a high-level introduction to the language and its basic types — just enough to make Ruby comprehensible before starting into the object system. Everything is an object in Ruby, so the book introduces the object system as early as possible, and then shows the rest of the language from constants up in the light of that object system. The rest of part one follows the normal language introduction path, building up from constants and methods to exceptions, modules, and basic IO. It closes with chapters about threads and processes, unit testing, and the debugger.

Part two is a grab-bag of one-chapter topics describing how to use Ruby in a particular setting, or showing one angle of the language. The best of those chapters for me was the one on RDoc, partly because I'm quite impressed by Ruby's documentation system. A few of these chapters are oddly in-depth for an introductory book — I doubt I'm ever going to use all the details about special irb configuration, and if I do, I'd just look them up — but I greatly appreciated the solid chapter on how to write Ruby extensions in C. There is also the obligatory chapter on writing GUI applications with Tk, which always seems to show up in these sorts of introductions and which always baffles me. Does anyone actually do this any more instead of writing a web application?

Part three dives back into the language and provides a more complete and formal description. The authors aren't afraid to get into some of the internals, which I appreciated. There is a good chapter here on the details of the type system and how objects and classes interact, and a much-needed extended discussion of duck typing. This type of weak typing and runtime binding is fundamental to how Ruby approaches objects, for better or worse. (I have mixed opinions; it makes some things easier, but I increasingly appreciate strong typing and more formal interface definitions.) Some discussion of marshalling and introspection closes out the discussion portion of the book.

That's about 420 pages of the material. The rest of the book is a detailed reference on all of the core classes, and a quicker overview of the standard library. Normally, this sort of thing is thrown into language introductions to pad out the page count, but usually the language's official documentation is better at this sort of reference. But I found Programming Ruby to be an exception. The reference is succinct, sticking to a paragraph or two for each method, and did a great job of providing enough cross-reference and discussion to put each class into a broader perspective. It's the most useful example of this type of reference section I've seen. I still probably won't use it after this initial reading, but I think I got a better feel for the language from reading through it.

It's hard to review a book like this without reviewing the language it documents, at least a little bit. I'll indulge: it entertains me how much Ruby is obviously based on Perl, including borrowing some of Perl's more dubious ideas. The global punctuation variables will look familiar to any Perl programmer, and the oddly-named global variables for the interpreter flags are in the same spirit. The language unfortunately has similar problems as Perl with safely running commands without using the shell; it's possible, but not the default and not what the built-ins do. There are places where I wish Ruby were a little less like Perl.

The plus side for an experienced Perl programmer is that Ruby feels quite familiar and has made some clear improvements. The ? and ! convention for methods that return booleans or modify objects in-place is brilliant in its simplicity, and something I'd love to see in more languages. And the way Ruby implements ubiquitous code blocks for both iterators and for any temporary objects is lovely once one gets used to it. It's similar to Python's context managers, except more general and built deeper into the language. Returning to the review of the book, rather than the topic, Programming Ruby has a good, clear explanation of blocks, iterators, and yield.

If you're interested in getting a grounding in Ruby, this book still feels like a solid introduction. The edition I read is getting a bit long in the tooth now that we're on Ruby 2.1, but the pace of language change has slowed, and most of the book is still applicable. (If you're buying it new, you should, of course, get the later edition.) The table of contents makes it seem like the book is covering the same ground multiple times, but that organizational strategy worked better than I expected. Ruby is not the most organized language in the world, so I still felt a bit overwhelmed with random method names in places, but I never felt lost in the mechanics of the language.

In short, recommended if you want a good introduction to the language, although probably in a later edition.

Rating: 8 out of 10

2015-01-02: Review: The Ring of Charon

Review: The Ring of Charon, by Roger MacBride Allen

Series Hunted Earth #1
Publisher Tor
Copyright December 1990
ISBN 0-8125-3014-4
Format Mass market
Pages 500

Larry Chao is a junior scientist at a gravity research on Pluto, at the very outer limits of human reach in the solar system. The facility is for researching artificial gravity, which is one reason it's in the middle of nowhere. Another is that their experimental generator is built in a ring around Charon, and the close proximity of the two bodies is useful for scientific observation. Unfortunately, there hasn't been much to observe. They can create very short-lived gravity fields in very small areas, but nothing like the artificial gravity that was the original promise of the facility.

As a result, the government is shutting the facility down. The authoritarian director, Simon Raphael, is... not exactly happy with that decision, but resigned to it and running the facility to completion with a sullen anger. When Larry makes a startling breakthrough at nearly the last minute for the society, Simon is uninterested and hostile. This leads Larry and his fellow scientist Sondra Berghoff to attempt a more radical demonstration of Larry's success and prove to the rest of the solar system that the facility should be kept open. That decision has a far deeper impact on humanity and the solar system than they could have possibly imagined.

The Ring of Charon and its sequel, Shattered Sphere, were recommended to me as good harder science fiction. It took me a while to track down copies — in fact, it took an in-person trip to Powell's. Once I found them, a relatively straightforward, old-school science fiction novel seemed like just the thing to read during my commute.

Allen delivers there. I'm not spoiling the main plot driver of the book even though it's given away on the back cover, since it's some time in coming in the novel. But The Ring of Charon turns into a multi-viewpoint cross between a disaster novel and a scientific investigation. Larry and Sondra stay central to the plot, of course, but Allen adds a variety of other characters who are attempting to figure out what happened to the solar system and then deal with the consequences: everyone from scientists to pilots to communications officers in weird surrealistic stations.

The science is mostly believable, apart from the scientific breakthrough that motivates the plot. Characterization isn't absent completely, but it's simple and unsubtle; dialogue is a bit wooden, characters aren't entirely multidimensional, but Allen does a reasonably good job with both pacing and the sense of mystery and investigation, and a surprisingly good job portraying organizational politics.

As you might guess from the tone of my review, this is not the book to reach for if you want something ground-breaking. It's a very conventional, multi-viewpoint SF novel full of scientists and investigation of unknown and possibly hostile phenomena. If you've read much science fiction, you've read books like this before. But one thing that Allen does surprisingly well, which makes The Ring of Charon stand a bit above the pack, is that he doesn't write villains. Even Simon, who goes out of his way to make the reader hate him at the start of the book, becomes a surprisingly sympathetic character. The characters who are usually villains or at least foils in books like this — the smooth PR person, the religious man, the blindly-focused scientist who isn't interested in anyone else's theories — never turn into caricatures, play important roles in the plot, and turn out to be competent in their fields of expertise.

There are actual villains, sort of, but I found myself feeling sympathetic even towards them, at least in places. Allen takes a rather old SF dodge to achieve conflict without an evil enemy, and, because of that, the end of the book felt like a bit of an anticlimax. But I did like the feel of the book where there isn't a good versus evil fight, just a wide variety of people (and others) trying to understand and control the universe in the best ways they know how.

I'm not sure I can quite recommend this book. The quality of the writing is not particularly high, and I'm not generally a fan of the disaster novel style of storytelling. But despite not being very original, there's just something likable about it. It moves along reasonably well for a 500 page book, and it's refreshingly light on irritating stereotypes. I think one has to be in the right mood when reading it and set expectations accordingly, but it fit what I was looking for when I picked it up.

One warning, though: although The Ring of Charon reaches a climax, the major plot conflict is not resolved at the end of this book, so you may want to have the sequel around.

Followed by Shattered Sphere.

Rating: 6 out of 10

2015-01-01: Review: An Imaginary Tale

Review: An Imaginary Tale, by Paul J. Nahin

Publisher Princeton University
Copyright 1998, 2007
Printing 2010
ISBN 0-691-14600-4
Format Trade paperback
Pages 259

Subtitled The Story of √-1, An Imaginary Tale is a history of the use of the number mathematicians normally call i. Nahin starts in the 15th century with the discussion of the time on solving cubic equations, specifically del Ferro's solution to the depressed cubic. He walks through how to approach that solution with imaginary numbers, provides a brief introduction to the complex number plane, and then explains that del Ferro didn't follow the logic in those directions at all. Mathematicians at the time were dubious about negative numbers because they were not intuitive representations of real-world quantities. The square root of negative numbers was considered simply impossible.

Nahin continues on in this historical vein for three chapters, walking through the mathematical problems that arose from analysis of cubics and the constant appearance of imaginary numbers, the early attempts to find a geometric interpretation, and then the slow development of the modern conception of imaginary numbers in the 19th century. The emphasis throughout is on the specifics of the math, not on the personalities, although there are a few personal tidbits. Along the way, he takes frequent side journeys to highlight the various places complex numbers are useful in solving otherwise-intractable problems.

After that initial history come two chapters of applications of complex numbers: vector analysis, Kepler's laws, applications in electrical engineering, and more. He does win a special place in my heart by walking through the vector analysis problem that George Gamow uses to demonstrate complex numbers in One Two Three... Infinity: a treasure map whose directions depend on landmarks that no longer exist. Following that is a great chapter on deeper mathematical wizardry involving i, including Euler's identity, ii, and a pretty good explanation of hyperbolic functions. The final chapter is an introduction to complex function theory.

One's opinion of this book is going to vary a lot depending on what type of history of math you like to read. Unfortunately, it wasn't what I was hoping for. That doesn't make it a bad book — other reviewers have recommended it highly, and I think it would be a great book for someone with slightly different interests. But it's a very mathematical book. It's full of proofs, calculations, and analysis, and assumes that you remember a reasonable amount of algebra and calculus to follow along. It's been a long time since I studied math, and while I probably could have traced the links between steps of his proofs and derivations with some effort, I found myself skimming through large chunks of this book.

I love histories of mathematics, and even popularizations of bits of it (particularly number theory), but with the emphasis on the popularization. If you're like me and are expecting something more like The Music of the Primes, or even One Two Three... Infinity, be warned that this is less about the people or the concepts and more about the math itself. If you've read books like that and thought they needed more equations, more detail, and more of the actual calculations, this may be exactly what you're looking for.

Nahin is fun to read, at least when I wasn't getting lost in steps that are obvious to him. He's quite enthusiastic about the topic and clearly loves being able to show how to take apart a difficult mathematical equation using a novel technique. His joy reminds me of when I was most enjoying my techniques of integration class in college. Even when I started skimming past the details, I liked his excitement.

This wasn't what I was looking for, so I can't exactly recommend it, but hopefully this review will help you guess whether you would like it. It's much heavier on the mathematics and lighter on the popularization, and if that's the direction you would have preferred the other similar books I've reviewed to go, this may be worth your attention.

Rating: 6 out of 10

2015-01-01: 2014 Book Reading in Review

This year, after a series of catastrophically horrible and unethical management decisions, I walked away from my job of seventeen years and found a new job.

As you might expect, reading wasn't the top priority for much of the year. I'm moderately surprised that I read as much as I did. The good side is that I'm now in a much better place both professionally and personally and no longer have to put up with draining and demoralizing nonsense happening on a regular basis. The downside for my review output is that the new job is more engrossing and is, in some ways, harder work, so I expect my reading totals going forward to stabilize somewhere below where they were in the past (although it's possible that the daily commute will change that equation somewhat).

As mentioned last year, I had a feeling that something like this would happen (although not that it would be anywhere near this bad), so I had no specific reading goals for the year. Next year, I'm going to see how it goes for the first few months, and might then consider setting some goals if I want to encourage myself to take more time for reading.

The below statistics are confined to the books I reviewed in 2014. I read three more books that I've not yet reviewed, partly because the end of the year isn't as packed with vacation as it was at Stanford. Those will be counted in 2014.

Despite the low reading totals for the year, I read two 10 out of 10 books. My favorite book of the year was Ann Leckie's Ancillary Justice, which was one of the best science fiction novels I've ever read. Highly recommended if you like the space opera genre at all. A close second was my favorite non-fiction book of the year and the other 10 out of 10: Allie Brosh's collection Hyperbole and a Half. Those of you who have read her blog already know her brilliant and insightful style of humor. Those who haven't are in for a treat.

I read a lot of non-fiction this year and not as much fiction, partly for mood reasons, so I don't have honorable mentions in the fiction department. In the non-fiction department, though, there are four more books worth mentioning. Cryptography Engineering, by Niels Ferguson, Bruce Schneier, and Tadayoshi Kohno, was the best technical book that I read last year, and a must-read for anyone who works on security or crypto software. David Graeber's Debt was the best political and economic book of the year and the book from which I learned the most. It changed the way that you think about debt and loans significantly. A close second, though, was David Roodman's Due Diligence, which is a must-read for anyone who has considered investing in microfinance or is curious about the phenomenon. We need more data-driven, thoughtful, book-length analysis like this in the world.

Finally, The Knowledge, by Lewis Dartnell, is an entertaining and quixotic project. The stated goal of the book is to document the information required to rebuild civilization after a catastrophe, with hopefully fewer false starts and difficult research than was required the first time. I'm dubious about its usefulness for that goal, but it's a fascinating and entertaining book in its own right, full of detail about industrial processes and the history of manufacturing and construction that are otherwise hard to come by without extensive (and boring) research. Recommended, even if you're dubious about the efficacy of the project.

The full analysis includes some additional personal reading statistics, probably only of interest to me.

2014-12-31: Review: Three Parts Dead

Review: Three Parts Dead, by Max Gladstone

Series Craft #1
Publisher Tor
Copyright October 2012
ISBN 1-4668-0203-0
Format Kindle
Pages 336

Tara Abernathy was a student in the Hidden Schools, learning Craft, until she was expelled. Literally expelled: thrown from the floating schools to crash painfully to earth in the Badlands, left to return to her family and village and a life of small workings of Craft and contracts on behalf of local farmers. She had largely resigned herself to that life until raiders started killing people. Tara is not the sort of person who could stand by and watch that, or someone to refrain from using Craft to fix the world. The result was undead guardians for the town, perhaps unwisely formed from the town's risen dead, and only a job offer saves Tara from the ungrateful attention of her neighbors.

That's how Tara finds herself employed by the firm of Kelethras, Albrecht, and Ao, in the person of partner Elayne Kevarian. Provisionally, depending on her performance on their job: the investigation of the death of a god.

It's possible to call Three Parts Dead urban fantasy if you squint at it the right way. It is fantasy that takes place largely in cities, it features the investigation of a crime (and, before long, several crimes), and Tara's attitude is reminscent of an urban fantasy heroine. But this is considerably different from the normal fare of supernatural creatures. In this world, magic, called Craft, is an occupation that requires a great deal of precision and careful construction. Small workings are described similar to magic, although with an emphasis on metaphor. Larger workings more often come in the form of energy flows, contracts, and careful hedging, and the large Craft firms bear more resemblence to mergers and acquisitions specialists than to schools of wizards.

This means that the murder investigation of the god of Alt Coulumb involves a compelling mix of danger, magic, highly unusual library investigations, forensic accounting, hidden Craft machinery, unexpected political alliances, and an inhuman police force. Rather than the typical urban fantasy approach of being beaten up until the resolution of the mystery becomes obvious, Tara and her companions do quite a lot of footwork and uncover a more complex political situation than they were expecting. And, in keeping with this take on magic, the story culminates in a courtroom drama (of a sort). I really enjoyed this. It combines the stylistic elements of urban fantasy that I like with some complex and original world-building and a great take on magical contracts. I prefer worlds like this one, where any source of power people have lived with for a long time is surrounded by the controls, formal analysis, and politics that humans create around anything of value.

Tara is also a great protagonist. This is a coming of age story in a sense, and Tara is sometimes unsure of her abilities, but it's refreshingly devoid of worry or angst over new-found abilities. Tara enjoys her work, and approaches it with a well-written mix of uncertainty, impulsiveness, and self-confidence (sometimes warranted, sometimes not). I've read some good stories where the protagonist gets dragged into the story against their will, and some of them are quite good, but it's refreshing to read a book about someone who takes to the story like a duck to water. This is a believable protrayal of a character with a lot of native ability and intelligence, not much wisdom (yet), but a lot of thoughtful enthusiasm. I was disappointed to learn that she isn't the protagonist of the next book in the series.

The biggest flaw I found in this book is that Gladstone doesn't stick reliably to his world conception. At times, Craft collapses into something more like typical fantasy magical battles, instead of legal procedure and contract made concrete. I suppose this makes parts of the book more exciting, but I would have preferred a plot resolution that involved less combat and more argument. This isn't helped by the utterly hissable villain. There's a lot of complexity in understanding what happened and who was going to benefit (and how), but there is absolutely no doubt who the enemy is, and he's essentially without redeeming qualities. I would have preferred more nuance, given how satisfyingly complex the rest of the world-building is.

Three Parts Dead also occasionally suffers from the typical first novel problem of being a bit overstuffed. The world-building comes fast and thick, and nearly everything Tara does involves introducing new concepts. But the world does have a coherent history, and quite a lot of it. It used to be a more typical fantasy world ruled by gods, each with their own territory and worshippers (and Alt Coulumb is a throwback to this era), but an epic war between gods and Craft is in Tara's past, leading to the defeat or destruction of many of the gods. She lives in a time of uneasy truce between human and inhuman powers, featuring some very complex political and economic alliances. There's a lot of material here for an ongoing series.

This is a great first novel. It's not without its flaws, but I enjoyed it from beginning to end, and will definitely keep reading the series. Recommended.

Followed by Two Serpents Rise.

Rating: 8 out of 10

2014-12-27: Review: Some Remarks

Review: Some Remarks, by Neal Stephenson

Publisher William Morrow
Copyright June 2013
ISBN 0-06-202444-2
Format Trade paperback
Pages 336

This is going to be another weird review, since I read this essay collection about three months ago, and I borrowed it from a friend. So this is both from fading memory and without a handy reference other than Internet searches. Apologies in advance for any important details that I miss. The advantage is that you'll see what parts of this collection stuck in my memory.

Some Remarks is, as you might guess from the title, a rather random collection of material. There's one long essay that for me was the heart of the book (more on that in a moment), two other longer essays, two short stories, and thirteen other bits of miscellaneous writing of varying lengths.

I found most of the short essays unremarkable. Stephenson uses a walking desk because sitting is bad for you — that sentence contains basically all of the interesting content of one of the essays. I think it takes a large topic and some running room before Stephenson can get up to speed and produce something that's more satisfying than technological boosterism. That means the most interesting parts of this book are the three longer works.

"In the Kingdom of Mao Bell" was previously published in Wired and is still available. Some Remarks contains only excerpts; Stephenson says that some of the original essay is no longer that interesting. I had mixed feelings about this one. Some of the sense of place he creates was fun to read, but Stephenson can't seem to quite believe that the Chinese don't care about "freedom" according to his definitions in the same way and therefore don't have the same political reaction to hacker culture that he does. This could have been an opportunity for him to question assumptions, but instead it's mostly an exercise in dubious, sweeping cultural evaluation, such as "the country has a long history of coming up with technologies before anyone else and then not doing a lot with them." A reminder that the detail with which Stephenson crams his writing is not always... true.

Stronger is "Atoms of Cognition: Metaphysics in the Royal Society 1715–2010," which covers material familiar to readers of Stephenson's Baroque Cycle. The story of Newton, Leibniz, their rivalry, and the competing approaches to thinking about mathematics and science was my favorite part of that series, and in some ways the non-fiction treatment is better than the fictional one. If you liked the Baroque Cycle, this is worth reading.

But the highlight of the book for me was "Mother Earth Mother Board." This is a long essay (50,000 words, practically a small book and the largest part of this collection) about the laying of undersea fiber-optic cables. Those who have read Cryptonomicon will recognize some of the themes here, but there's way more to this essay than there was to the bits about undersea cables in Cryptonomicon. It's mostly about technology, rather than people, which puts Stephenson on firmer ground. The bit about people reads more like a travelogue, full of Stephenson's whole-hearted admiration of people who build things and make things work. There's a bit of politics, a bit of history, a bit of tourism, and a lot of neat trivia about a part of the technological world that I'd not known much about before. I would say this is worth the price of the collection, but it too was previously published in Wired, so you can just read it online.

Those reading this review on my web site will notice that I filed it in non-fiction. There are a couple of stories, but they're entirely forgettable (in fact, I had entirely forgotten them, and had to skim them again). But, for the record, here are short reviews of those:

"Spew": This originally appeared in Wired and can still be read on-line. The protagonist takes a job as a sort of Internet marketing inspector who looks for deviations from expected profiles. While tracing down an anomaly, though, he finds another use of the Internet that's outside of the marketing framework he's using.

It's unlikely that anyone who's been online for long will find much new in this story. Some of that is because it was originally published in 1994, but most of it is just that this isn't a very good story. Stephenson seems to have turned up his normal manic infodump to 11 to satisfy the early Wired aesthetic, and the result is a train wreck of jargon, bad slang, and superficial social observation. (3)

"The Great Simoleon Caper": Originally published in TIME, this story too is still available online. It's primarily interesting because it's a story about Bitcoin (basically), written in 1995. And it's irritating for exactly the same reason that Bitcoin enthusiasm often tends to be irritating: the assumption that cryptocurrency is somehow a revolutionary attack on government-run currency systems. I'm not going to get into the ways in which this doesn't make sense given how money is used socially (David Graeber's Debt is the book to read if you want more information); just know that the story follows that path and doesn't engage with any of the social reasons why that outcome is highly unlikely. Indeed, the lengths to which the government tries to go to discredit cryptocurrency in this story are rather silly.

Apart from that, this is typical early Stephenson writing. It's very in love with ideas, not as much with characterization, and consists mostly of people explaining things to each other. Sometimes this is fun, but when focused on topics about which considerably more information has become available, it doesn't age very well. (5)

Overall, there was one great essay and a few interesting bits, but I wouldn't have felt I was missing much if I'd never read this collection. I borrowed Some Remarks from a friend, and I think that's about the right level of effort. If it falls into your hands, or you see it in a library, some of the essays, particularly "Mother Earth Mother Board," are worth reading, but given that the best parts are available on-line for free, I don't think it's worth a purchase.

Rating: 6 out of 10

2014-12-25: pam-krb5 4.7

It's been a long, long time since the last upstream release. Rather too long, as the changes to the portability and test framework were larger than the changes to the module itself. But there are a few bug fixes here and one new feature.

The new feature is a new option, no_update_user, which disables the normal update of PAM_USER for the rest of the PAM stack to the canonicalized local username. This allows users to do things like enter Kerberos principals into the login prompt and have the right thing happen, but sometimes it's important to keep the authentication credentials as originally entered and not canonicalize, even if there's a local canonicalization available. This new option allows that.

In the bug-fix department, the module now suppresses spurious password prompts from Heimdal while using PKINIT and understands more Kerberos errors for purposes of try_first_pass support and returning better PAM errors.

The documentation now notes next to each option the version of pam-krb5 at which it was introduced with its current meaning.

You can get the latest version from the pam-krb5 distribution page.

Last modified and spun 2015-04-18