Reading roundup of massiveness
14. Jim Butcher, Princeps' Fury (Book 5 of Codex Alera) -- I found the beginning rather boring and thought I was in for another book I wouldn't much care for, like #2 and 3 in the series, but things really picked up when Tavi arrived in Canea and the Aleran army actually started engaging with the Vord.
Tavi in Canea was quite interesting. I enjoy seeing his evolving relationship with the Canem, and the broader view of the Cane culture of combat and insults and all that. I also liked the fact that Tavi's "making peace with everyone" approach to everything was called out and shown to be not always applicable... but it does raise the question about Vord: they are obviously intelligent, at least at the level of the queens. How can they be believably protrayed as a mindless force for total destruction, essentially? (Not to mention that they don't seem to be a sustainable system because they would overrun *everything*, having no predators that could control their population. But anyway.) Their hive mentality reminds me of the hive queen in Ender's Game, but the buggers/formics, while a hostile alien invasion, were actually capable of coexisting with other species once they sorted things out. The Vord don't seem to be... which is kind of a weak mark in a series where the protagonists have progressively allied themselves with the Marat (book 1), Canem (book 4), and now a truce with the Icemen. To treat the Vord as a qualitatively different enemy, one that can't be reasoned with, seems a cheat. On the other hand, if Tavi does pull a "Speaker for the Dead" and end up negotiating with the Vord queen, that will be a pretty tough sell for me. I kind of feel like Butcher has painted himself into the corner on this one.
I liked Tavi's adventures in Canea because we got to hang out with Max, Crassus, Kitai, and "Marcus", who are some of my favorite characters in this series. And because there were lines like this:
"You used me," Tavi said.
[Kitai's] smile widened. "And it worked. You are a marvelous talking cow."
"Horse," Tavi corrected wearily. "Stalking horse."
Kitai tilted her head. "What idiot would so endanger a perfectly good horse?"
The revelation of what Tavi's Cane name (Tavar) meant was cutely done, if not, you know, subtly. I do feel like Tavi is treading the Gary-Stu line... but he is occasionally stupid enough still to not be all god-like, so it hasn't really annoyed me yet.
I really liked the description of the war with the Vord in Alera. I think at this point Gaius is my favorite character (just in time for his predictable -- if spectacular -- end), and it was good to spend some time in his company, and having Ehren be his minder was nice, too -- they have an amusing dynamic going. He still gets some pretty good quotes, like: "Aquitane thinks me his enemy. The fool. If I truly hated him, I'd give him the Crown." and dialogue:
"Your opinion, Cursor?" the First Lord murmured.
Ehren swallowed. "Frankly, sire, I believe I'm entirely too terrified to offer you a useful opinion for the time being."
"I see," Gaius said, mild disapproval in his tone. "When you've regained control of yourself, I should appreciate it if you would please let me know."
"Very good, sire."
I also just plain like reading about grand battles and fury-assisted warfare (my favorites were the sweeping description of High Lord Rhodes before he falls in engaging the Vord queen, and Aquitane using the river for cover when he attacks the Vord flank). Neat to see what Attis Aquitane will do as High Lord, too. I'm pretty sure there's a climactic confrontation between him and Invidia coming in the next book (where I'm pretty sure she kills him, or maybe they kill each other).
I didn't mind the Amara and Bernard spying subplot because, while I don't much care for Amara (although she's gotten loads better and doesn't actively annoy me anymore -- it's just residual dislike from the first two books), interesting stuff was going on. I thought the ploy with the slave collar(s) was really clever (and didn't see that coming, which doesn't happen much in these books). (And, uh. I don't know how to say this, but now I'm kind of wondering if there Bernard/Amara slave-collar kink!fic out there -- there's totally room for a missing scene in the text -- or slave-collar kink!fic in general. But anyway.)
Isana still annoys me, though, again, less now that she is not all mysteriously mourning and instead actually doing something. I still think she's a Mary-Sue, but I mind her less. I didn't find her subplot particularly believable -- either people's actions (it was good, but not terribly believable to see oh-so-kind Aria snap and insult Doroga, for example -- and it doesn't count if the firecrafting was making her do that, which is too bad) or the explanation for how the firecraftings are causing the hostilities which have no other source (copout!), but I did like the Icemen, the near-telepathic communication and the way they had peace chiefs and war chiefs. And Doroga's commentary on the juris macto was quite amusing (I like Doroga). I also didn't particularly buy the motivation Isana discovered for Raucus's dislike towards Gaius (ditto for Attis Aquitane), but, OK, it's kind of neat to know that Raucus, Attis, and Septimus were best buddies. And I still wonder what the deal was with Aldrick, since he was mentioned again... This gives me hope, at least, that something will be revealed eventually about that and it's not just a loose end.
Oh, and to go back right to the beginning, I thought Tavi's ploy with the golden slave chains was really, really neat.
So, I'm actually rather looking forward to the next book, which is meant to be the "thrilling conclusion" of the series -- First Lord's Fury (out in November).
15. Cate Tiernan, Chalice of Wind, Balefire #1
16. Cate Tiernan, Circle of Ashes, Balefire #2
17. Cate Tiernan, Feather of Stone, Balefire #3 -- I picked up these books because I read the SWEEP books by this author and they were witchy YA crack. No, seriously, I couldn't put them down, and I'd read three in one day if the library had three at a time. It was kind of insane. These books are a good deal less addictive, probably largely because, while SWEEP was written pretty much in first-person of the single protagonist, with the story unfolding and characters being gradually added to it, the Balefire books start out with two first-person POVs (girls that turn out to be twin sisters, separated at birth), interspersed with third-person short chapters from members of the Treize, who are mysterious and mysteriously connected to each other. So, the splintered POVs aren't nearly as addictive, although I did think the books got more difficult to put down as the series went on and the plot picked up.
The characters and plot are about what you would expect from YA paranormal, so not really worth talking about, between good girl Thais and wild girl Clio, the choice of love interests (they find themselves in a love triangle), and variously benevolent or scary adults with their mysteries. I did like the antagonistic/friendly relationship between Richard and Luc (e.g. "If they told Petra about you screwing them both, she's going to have your blood." Luc flushed. "I didn't screw either one of them." "Sorry. I meant screw over." "Bite me.") And I find Axelle's vague attachment to Thais and having her stabilize the household with shopping sort of endearing.
A couple of things I did find interesting or unusual or distrubing, though: Quite a few "bad words" but the series stops short of "fuck", although the girls, improbably, use both "fricking" and "effing" instead. In the first three books, nobody has sex on screen, but the girls come close to it, and there are references to past sex with Clio (they're 17). And then there are the weird things brought about by the fact that the members of the Treize are immortal and frozen at the time of the great rite that made them so. Thus, Manon remains a pubescent girl forever, which is why it's really rather weird that the book dwells on her and Sophie being lovers. The lesbian angle would've been kind of impressive, but then there's the pseudo-pedophelia thing... I mean, Manon is two and a half centuries old, so definitely not a child, and it's quite explicit that the relationship with Sophie didn't start for a long time after the rite. But it's still kind of... weird. And another chracter, Axelle, seeing Manon, thinks she would make a great child prostitute. It's just a really odd touch to have in a YA series, you know? And then there's Richard, who is (presumably, in the first three books, at least) the twins' ancestor, many, many generations removed. And he hooks up with Clio. Which, OK, there's 13 generations between them, but still... getting it on with yout great-great-great-etc.-grandfather? WEIRD. And both Richard and Luc seem to do a lot of grabbing and kissing the twins against their will, which is not treated as sufficiently skeevy, IMO.
At the end of book 3, there are still several unanswered questions (or possibly I missed the answers): Where is Melita, who orchestrated the first rite? She seems to be working to kill the twins, but how? Through Marcel? What "terrible secret" do Marcel and Manon share?
18. Robin McKinley, Chalice -- I bypassed this book at the library a time or two because the blurb made it sound quite boring. And then I read queenofthorns's review and felt a lot better about it, so I snatched it up when I saw it next at the library. I'm glad I did, because it was really, really lovely.
I very much like Mirasol, the protagonist. She feels very human -- uncertain and tired and occasionally naive, but also brave and practical and determined to do the best she can, and in general fallible in believable ways that don't detract from either her intelligence or likeability. I liked the Master a lot, too, who is (at first) both not-quite-human and very sympathetic, trying to do his duty even if it kills him (and it well might). I liked the Grand Senechal a lot from the first, too, and was glad to see him become an ally and not just a forbidding figure who Mirasol thought was put off by her. The secondary characters are all sort of interchangeable and not very clearly drawn, but that's totally OK, because Mirasol's focus is very much on the Master and the demesne itself, which is a very well realized character, for all that it's largely inanimate, as are Mirasol's bees and even the ponies who figure in the story.
I loved the world-building, with the demesnes and the earthlines and the Circle and the duties of the Chalice, too, and how it's all revealed very naturally, in drips and drabs, not in huge info dumps. I'm quite sure all twelve members of the Circle are mentioned, but never more than 3-4 at a time, for example. Similarly, I liked the slow, veiled way in which it is (mostly) revealed what happened to the previous Master and Chalice -- it's quite believable in that way where people don't want to talk about a great terrible thing that happened and therefore skirt it obliquely in conversation. I loved all the ways in which honey and fire pervaded this book, all the little homey details of Mirasol's bee-keeping and random touches of reality like the linden-carved dormouse figurine left over from the old Chalice's wood carvings collection.
The narration was absolutely lovely, and, without feeling the least bit emotionally manipulative, the book made me choke up a couple of times, such as when the Master asks Mirasol if she were trying to kill herself by freezing to death on Listening Hill, or when he cannot remember his human name, only the name in the Fire, and she tells him what it was.
There was only one thing I didn't like as much as the rest of the book, and that was the resolution. I am very much on board with the Master getting to keep his demesne, obviously, and it seemed quite fitting that it should be so with Mirasol's help and/or through her existence as the Chalice. I also liked the fact that it's a victory that does require death and sacrifice -- of bees, OK, but after spending the whole book in their company, the bees really feel like characters, and their loss did touch me, and it was clear that this was a very real sacrifice for Mirasol as well, and the darkly fantastic landscape of drifts of dead bees is also a very nice touch. What I didn't like about the resolution, specifically, was the Master turning back into a human and Mirasol deciding to marry him. My reaction to the last may be a little surprising, actually, because I was shipping Master/Mirasol from the first half of the book, and was disappointed when it was mentioned that Masters and Chalices could not marry/be lovers. I think, actually, that the disappointment with the latter may be related to the former, too, the fact that the Master becomes fully human. Maybe it's just that I found the not-quite-human Master gradually learning to fit in his demesne and in his new role more compelling than the "Beauty and the Beast" reversion to his old form. And I also found the relationship between not-quite-human-Master and Mirasol-the-Chalice more compelling than the one wherein they're both fully human. I'm not sure I can articulate why... But there was the tension in that relationship, being joined by common duty which went deeper even than one's humanity, that was more interesting. And Mirasol thought it was beautiful that the Master could see in IR... seems sad to lose it, somehow. Or -- and scanning over the last pages I don't think this is either supported or refuted by anything in the book -- did the Master not simply revert to human but transmute into something else under the bees? Priests of the fourth level look human again, apparently, and the bees did burn the Heir... but that doesn't seem right, either, as you'd think Mirasol would have felt it if he was not human. Anyway...But that's a pretty minor quibble for a book that I otherwise liked very much.
19. Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky (Tiffany book 2) -- I wasn't expecting to like this very much, because I didn't much care for i>Wintersmith (I read it, and liked it on the whole, but my expectations for Pterry are a lot higher than that, and it didn't meet those) and even Wee Free Men is not among my favorites. But I really like this one! It felt much more like the Witches books usually do. I've always liked/respected Tiffany as a character, but this one sort of took it to a new level. Maybe because of all the interaction with Granny Weatherwax. Probably.
I liked the darker aspects of it -- Tiffany dealing with loss, and with seeing the darkness inside herself (she actually *kills* someone, even if not quite as fatally as that sounds), and even when she is not possessed, snarking at Annagramma. I liked the nature of the hiver, the fact that it's not *evil*, but rather more destructive and difficult to stop for that (and I'm rather proud of myself for figuring out the answer to the third wish question just a little ahead of Tiffany). I liked what this book has to say about being a witch -- the drudge-like aspects of it, and lack of gratitude, and how Granny Weatherwax's manipulative and dishonest approach can be more effective in the short term than the well-meaning but over-the-head approach of Miss Level. I liked both Tiffany and Granny having issues with shambles, and I like the idea behind the shambles, too. The interaction between Granny and Tiffany is just great, and I was especially moved by the moment when Granny addresses Tiffany as "madam," right after Tiffany responds in the affirmative to "do you have it in you to be a witch by noonlight, far away from your hills?"
Speaking of Granny Weatherwax, I loved this quote: "They say that if you cut her with a knife, she wouldn't bleed until she wanted to! They say that when some vampires bit her, they all started to crave tea and sweet biscuits. She can do anything, be anywhere!" -- I love the idea of Granny as a sort of Discworld Chuck Norris, and I also love that these are actual references to actual Witch books, although a bit exaggerated for effect (Maskerade and Carpe Jugulum, if I'm not mistaken). Oh, and this quote, too: "For an old woman Mistress Weatherwax could move quite fast. She strode over the moors as if distance was a personal insult."
The Feegles are cute and funny and livened up the book. I actually laughed aloud -- a lot -- when reading the scenes where they are trying to pretend to be a human. And the stuff between Jeannie and Rob Anybody was nice, too, and Awfully Wee Billy Bigchin became a favorite of mine among the Feegles.
Old people as apparently a bulletproof way to make me tear up. I did during most of the scenes featuring Mr. Weavall, and when Tiffany was thinking about Granny Aching, too.
I even liked the hints at the beginning of the relationship with Roland, much better than I liked that aspect in Wintersmith. It actually felt like Wintersmith was a step backwards in a lot of respects, which is odd...
Quotes:
"When I was a child, they thought I was twins," she said over one of her shoulders. "And then... they thought I was evil," she said, over another shoulder.
"Are you?" said Tiffany.
Both of Miss Level turned around, looking shocked.
"What kind of question is that to ask anyone?" she said.
"Um... the obvious one?" said Tiffany. "I mean, if they said, 'Yes I am! Mwahahaha!' that would save a lot of trouble, wouldn't it?"
"Ferns! [...] Everywhere! Big ferns! And big things, like cows made out of lizards!"
"[W]izards sought power all the time and sometimes found, in their treacherous circles, not some demon that was so stupid that it could be tricked with threats and riddles, but the hiver, which was so stupid that it could not be tricked at all."
20. Ellen Kushner and Delia Sherman, The Fall of the Kings -- I read the beginning chapter of this in Privilege of the Sword or Swordspoint, I forget which, and was kind of meh about it, because reading about second-world academia seemed kind of dull in comparison to the adventures and intrigue of Swordspoint and Privilege, so I didn't seek it out, but I did grab it when I spotted it at the library, just sitting there. I enjoyed it well enough, though not without reservations -- but for totally different reasons than I'd anticipated.
My favorite part ended up being the academia, actually... Basil's lectures, the challenge, the difference in academic philosophy and approaches, and especially the relationships among Basil's students and their varied relationships with and views of him. I found Theron's various plights not very compelling at all. Like Alec, he seems to be a character who appeals to the author(s) far more than he does to me. I did pity him when he was in the grip of the magic spell, and liked his interaction with Frannie, but the rest of the time I found him not very interesting and needlessly overwrought. The noble intrigue was OK, but felt kind of tacked on -- all that stuff with Galing and the Serpent Chancellor and that (kind of like the Michael Goodwin arc in Swordspoint, though at least it was not dropped quite so abruptly). And the magic was, well, it was neat enough -- I really liked Theron's mental transformation into a deer, but it also felt sort of pointless. I mean, there was a kind of grandeur to the old kings and wizards, but it all felt like fake, hyped-up grandeur, and I was never rooting for the magic or the kings to return. In fact, I was rather mourning Basil's transformation from a first-rate scholar and teacher to a mediocre wizard. (I liked the non-magical rituals of the various holidays far better than the magic.)
I also thought the ending was kind of... pointless. I suppose the fact that Theron lived and Jessica kept the book leaves the door open for stuff to happen, but, eh, it's not the sort of stuff I'm interested in, I guess.
I didn't care for Basil's and Theron's relationship at all. I know it wasn't meant to be taken as a healthy one, but while I could get behind Alec/Richard if only because Richard seemed to want it and I wanted Richard to be happy, I was actively, gleefully waiting for Basil/Theron to blow up. I did like one aspect of it, though, because it felt so familiar: Theron having to compete with Basil's research. "Understand, my dear; this is my one time free of lectures, free of students -- time to get some real work done" -- if I had a nickel for every time I've heard that! :P Oh, and also I did find it cute that Basil exaggerated his conquests when Theron asked him how many lovers he'd had: "Basil tabulated his actual conquests, added the ones he might have had if he had cared to try for them, and answered, 'Eight. Or so.'" I actually kind of wanted Theron to end up with Genevieve. He doesn't love her, but given his track record with the people he did love, that might not be an argument against it, you know? And she is very much an innocent, but I got the feeling she would grow up nicely, especially when she asks things like, "Would you eat all my jewelry?" At any rate, I wish her well.
I thought the resolution of Theron's predicament and betrothal was handled way too easily -- Jessica, in effect, felt like nothing more than an improbably colorful deus ex machina. (I do wonder if the story of how she came about, daughter of Alec and the Black Rose, was already in its final form when they wrote Kings of if Kushner had to make it up in such a way that it fit the Kings backstory when it came to writing Privilege -- those parts in Privilege always did seem kind of tacked on and odd to me). Speaking of continuity: I didn't feel like Duchess Katherine in Kings was all that consistent with Kate from Privilege. I do understand that something like 45 years had passed and she had to grow from a young girl into a woman of power, but still, she didn't feel like the same person. I'm sure Jessica was a terror, but I don't really see Kate clashing with her to the degree that's implied. And I feel like the person who was so helpful to Artemisia, for all her drama, would be a bit more understanding when it came to Theron as well. I dunno, it just struck me as off. I did think Marcus Ffoliot in this book felt like an extension of the Marcus in Privilege, and I liked him as a father a lot, and the Ffoliot family dynamics were amusing, though they didn't feel quite real to me. But I liked those family scenes anyway.
I may not have liked the principles or felt that Katherine was "in character", but I did like some characters in this thing. Justis Blake is my favorite, I think. He is the kind of calm, sensible character of Kushner's whom I *do* like, and the fact that he does not adore Basil but sees him clearly was refreshing. But at the same time I liked Lindley and his idealistic, fiery ways, and Peter Goodwin, who seems to a different sort of noble-born idealism to him. (I also loved the cameo appearance of Michael Goodwin, which feels like pure fanservice, but I don't care.) I liked Theron's mother Sophia, better than I did in "The Death of the Duke," at any rate. And I liked bit player Ned Tielman (Galing's friend/ex-lover) and his wife, who seemed like a rare normal couple in this world. Oh, and I liked Lord Arlen, too, but how could I not like a character whose first spoken words are "Do you mean my making you kick your hells for hours, or do you mean my trying to startle you out of you skin?" in response to a protestation of delight. I would have liked to see more interplay between Arlen and grown-up-Katherine-from-Privilege, for instance, or Arlen and Michael Goodwin. And I thought Frannie the aspiring writer was very, very cute.
Quotes:
"Elton, who had studied mathematics along with astronomy, had come up with a theory that the earth, and possibly everything else as well, revolved around the sun. Cassius supported him on the basis of mathematics, Rugg on the basis of friendship. St Cloud privately thought the entire question uninteresting and unimportant, the relative antics of the sun and earth having no discernable effect on human history. But he was entirely in sympathy with Elton's methodology."
"From the center of the Court, a group struck up the chorus of a traditional Last Night song, old as the hills and at least as dirty, and soon the air shivered with it. Justis found himself bawling along with the rest, tuneless as a cat in heat and ignorant of everything save the chorus, which he sang twice as loud because he knew the words."
"Those incidents are not evidence," Arlen said coldly. "They are coincidence magnified to significance through the lens of ambition."
21. Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn -- this is one of those books, like Amber, that I'm embarrassed about not having read earlier. But now I have, and I liked it just as much as I would've expected, based on what a wonderful storyteller Beagle is. I thought I would be crying a lot during it, because I did during "Two Hearts", the short story sort-of-sequel, but I actually did not. I guess I find old men and children more moving than I do young men in love and unicorns. But anyway.
The writing is beautiful, almost all of it like a poem in prose, like in this description of the Red Bull, for instance: "no shape at all, but a swirling darkness, the red darkness you see when you close your eyes in pain." And all these phrases I'd heard before but didn't realize were quotations from here jumped out at me, like, "the horrid glory of her wings" (a title of a future matociquala short story), "when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits," or "Real magic can never be made by offering up someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back."
So, yeah, the descriptions of everything were beautiful. I found Schmendrick an interesting, poignant character, and especially liked these two lines of his: "You deserve the services of a great wizard, but I'm afraid you'll have to be glad of the aid of a second-rate pickpocket," and the surrounding scene, and, "They love you more, I think, though I do the best I can". Thought the Midnight Carnival interlude was sad and scary and felt like a real fairy tale, and also a bit something like you'd encounter in Gaiman (who is, of course, a big fan of Beagle; actually, on the whole, I felt, retroactively, like Stardust was trying to be something along the lines of this book). Thought the interlude with Captain Cully and his men was weird and rather different in tone from the rest of the book, but nevertheless funny (especially the fake ballad). The love story between Lir and Amalthea didn't do much for me, but I did find his early courtship of her funny and the unicorn at his death and the fact that she did not say anything when she appeared to him later quite poignant. And her words to him as Amalthea, towards the end: "I will not love you when I am a unicorn, and you will love me only because you cannot help it." I like the fact that Haggard, the ostensible villain, is not seen so much as evil as sad: "Haggard [..] I was getting to like him. I still do. He looked so frightened."
Another thing I really like is that one of the townsfolk of Hagsgate challenges Lir on his speach that "it is your greed and your fear that have destoryed you": "The townsfolk sighed in resignation, but a middle-aged woman stepped forward and said with some spriti, 'It all seems a bit unfair, my lord, begging your pardon. What could we have done to save the unicorns? We were afraid of the Red Bull. What could we have done?'" His response does not let them off the hook, but I like the fact that the challenge is there in the first place. You usually wouldn't get that sort of thing with the hero.
On a final random note: the princess Schmendrick and Molly Grue meet at the end says the her uncle, "the bloody Duke Wolf" is forcing her to "wed his fat son, the Lord Dudley". I'm probably reading too much into it, and I know JKR's said she doesn't read fantasy, but I'm wondering at the coincidence of fat cousin Dudley...
22. Elizabeth Bear (matociquala), All the Windwracked Stars -- I liked it! The themes Bear writes about don't necessarily resonate for me, but I like the way she writes, her dialogue and narration, and little details (like the fact that Kasimir ticks in the cold like a kiln), and her characters (none I've fallen in love with, but I like a number of them), and her plots are cool, and her worldbuilding is the best thing about her writing for me. And this world is peri-apocalyptic Norse mythology, which is just COOL.
When I was reading matociquala's progress notes about this book, as she was completing it, I found myself expecting to like Mingan, and I did. I liked him quite a lot, not just as a character, although that too, but also the way Bear writes about him, the choice of words and diction she uses. I hope I like him as much in the other Edda of Burdens books (which I definitely plan to read). I didn't like or dislike Muire -- she is just not my kind of character, it appears; I've yet to encounter a female protagonist of Bear's who is (neither Cricket in Undertow nor Percival or Riene in Dust, which is all I've read of her so far). I did like Cathoair (though I didn't feel quite as protective of him as I thought I was supposed to), and Selene, who is uncomplicated in a way that I find easy to relate to, and, of course, Cristokos the rat-mage (rat-mage!), and I liked Astrid, for all that she wasn't in the book very much. I don't think I found Kasimir to be as cool as I was supposed to, though I do find his form to be quite intriguing, both as a living creature and as a steampunk one. I liked Gunther, too, as a living man in flashback and as a fetch, his "Happy Birthday" ritual and the necessarily elided, understated way in which he tells Muire (how) to kill him. And, heck, I liked the Technomancer, too, for what she was, because she is not a villain so much as someone who cannot afford to see the error of a desperate choice.
Plot-wise, I liked the sort-of mystery and various character backgrounds as they emerged, and in general just exploring the setting. I thought the chunk of the book starting with Cathoair inadvertently killing Astrid and ending with the Serpent making him into an einherjar was kind of deus ex machiny -- it didn't flow as logically for me as the rest of it, but felt more like the author needing to get the characters from point A to point B by some means. I wasn't wild about the resolution, but it did feel fitting, so I'm good with it, I guess.
Random things I liked: Cathoair encountering the pushy chair (when reading matociquala's progress notes after I finished the book, as I tend to do with her stuff, I saw she referred to this scene as Cathoair wandering into a Neil Gaiman story. Hee.)
I wish I could sort out what was going on with the "you" vs "thee" between Muire and Mingan, but I don't actually feel like pondering it, so I'll just wait and hope that the backstory will make that clear.
23. Melissa Marr, Wicked Lovely -- this is an urban YA fantasy with fairies, which I picked up mainly because the premise seemed somewhat similar to Tithe and because of a blurb from Tamora Pierce on the back. It ended up being not at all what I'd expected, but I enjoyed it, despite the writing striking me as rather clunky early on. For a little bit in the middle, when the Summer King of the Faerie enrolls in Aislinn's high school, I worried this was headed in Twilight territory, but it was emphatically not, which was a relief. There were some things about it that I liked, and some things about it that were pretty unusual for urban YA fantasy that I thought were neat for that reason if no other, and then some things I didn't care for as much, but it was an interesting read on the whole, and I would read this author again.
Things I liked: The plot weaves together traditional ballad-like elements into something that ends up subverting faerie story expectations. Aislinn, who can see faeries, finds herself pursued by Keenan, who is the king of the Summer court. She does not fall for him, despite his seduction, and she does not even end up in a love triangle with him and her human boyfriend, Seth, as I was starting to think might happen. Instead, she very emphatically does not want to have anything romantic to do with Keenan. Even when it becomes clear she is the prophesied Summer Queen, she lays out the boundary conditions to him: it's just a job for her, and she wants to be friends, nothing more, and retain her relationship with Seth. And as, touched by Keenan's magic, Aislinn becomes less mortal and more faery, Seth the human boyfriend is her rock of strength and connection to the human world. So there's all this "Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight" and gender-bent "Tam Lin" stuff going on, and straight "Tam Lin," too, because Aislinn is needed to rescue Keenan from the Winter Queen his mother. Anyway, I thought the combination of familiar elements in an unusual way was interesting, and elevated this book above the meh writing and unremarkable characterization.
Things I thought were neat because they are unusual for a YA urban fantasy, even if I wasn't crazy about the execution: Like the Tithe books, this one is not a wholesome YA fantasy. There's drinking and drug use and sleeping around going on (though our protagonist does not engage in any of them), so there's a somewhat grittier feel to the real world, as well as the Winter/dark faerie "atrocities." That in itself is not unusual. But there are some implications that are explored that I thought were. For instance, when Aislinn gets drunk on faerie wine and can't remember what happened afterwards between her and Keenan, Seth essentially compares the faerie wine to roofies and tries to convince her that even if anything happened between them, it's not her fault. (I did think that the subsequent "OMGyay, I'm still a virgin!" scene when Keenan confirms that he just brought her home and nothing happened was a little weird. Not that Aislinn shouldn't be relieved, but she was relieved in a way that struck me as a bit weird -- not that she had not been violated, but that she would be able to have her first time with someone special. But anyway. And then, as Aislinn and Seth are getting closer to sex (nothing graphic, though sex is talked about pretty frankly), he gives her printouts of his STD tests (clean bill of health), which I don't think I've seen in non-fantasy YA books, let alone fantasy ones, at least not so explicitly on-screen. Like the virginity thing, it's a little odd in that it seems to take up a disproportionate amount of screen time and thus stands out as a potential authorial moral moment, but, anyway, I thought that was interesting. Not quite on the same level, but I thought Keenan reading "La Belle Dame Sans Merci" while pretending to be a student in high school and arguing that maybe the faerie had some good reasons for so ensnaring the mortal knight, was kind of interesting, if not particularly subtle.
Things I didn't like: I mentioned the writing was pretty weak, but either it got better as the book went on, or I stopped noticing it. The thing that bothered me the most was actually the world-building around the faeries. The worst part is that they didn't feel strange and perilous enough. The Winter Queen, Beira, is vicious, oppresses her House Elves woodsprites, kills her minions for laughing at the wrong moment, has killed the previous Summer King and bound Keenan his son, and enjoys tormenting him with her cold. She also swans around dressed as a June Cleaver sort, wearing pearls and pretending to bake Keenan cookies. I get what Marr was going for there, but it just falls flat. She feels like a cartoonish idea of a villain, not somebody really scary, and not... well, not Faery enough. Same deal with Keenan, actually, and all of his faeries. We get his POV, and it's not much different from the human teenager POVs at all. And the Summer court are way too goody-goody. The neat thing about Faeries is that even the relatively "good" ones are cold and scary and thoughtless of mortals, but these summer court folks, even in their somewhat fallen state, are not like that. Which makes them a lot less interesting. That was what bugged me the most, but there were some other things. There are some bits that I think are supposed to be red herrings that turn into loose ends (Aislinn's parentage, for instance).
I found the Keenan and Donia resolution kind of tacked on; I was rooting for them to get together for a while, but the way in which it happened was pretty weak, and felt like an afterthought. I mentioned the characters are not that impressive, but probably worth touching on anyway. Keenan and Beira, as I said, are not inhuman enough for my taste, and Donia the mortal-turned-Winter Girl is way too emo for my taste. The other faeries, Tavish and Niall are not faerie enough either, but I could see my way to shipping Keenan/Niall if I cared about this book more. Seth is sort of the ideal boyfriend, smart and kind and all-understanding, willing to wait as long as it takes and giving Aislinn all the space and support she needs. He's got piercings and a pet boa and lives in a set of railroad cars for extra coolness, and constantly quirks (or crooks) his eyebrows, but doesn't feel so much as a real character as wish fulfillment. The rest of Aislinn's friends are all 2D at best. Her Grandmother is slightly more interesting, being both progressive and cool but also (understandably) paranoid and therefore stifling. Which leaves Aislinn as the only real character in the book. She is OK -- she thinks before she does something, and she is a mixture of careful and reckless, and she is understandably freaked out by the circumstances she finds herself in, but also able to tap into reserves of inner strength. And I like that, when Keenan tells her she basically has no choice but to go with one of two unpalatable options and then mentions the Winter Queen, she quite reasonably asks, "Who's the Winter Queen? Could she help me?" She's not instantly on his side but is believably skeptical.
Randomly, I wonder if Aislinn's friend Carla is named so in homage to War for the Oaks, where Carla is Eddi's friend and bandmate. It's not that common a name...
I note that there is apparently a companion novel to this one, Ink Exchange, which deals with Irial and Leslie, two minor characters from this novel, and Fragile Eternity, which is a straight sequel to Wicked Lovely. Will keep an eye out for those.
Currently reading: Ill Met in the Arena by Dave Duncan, with plans to being Jhegaala next (the hold is at the library, waiting for me, and I shall go and liberate it Saturday if not sooner).
Tavi in Canea was quite interesting. I enjoy seeing his evolving relationship with the Canem, and the broader view of the Cane culture of combat and insults and all that. I also liked the fact that Tavi's "making peace with everyone" approach to everything was called out and shown to be not always applicable... but it does raise the question about Vord: they are obviously intelligent, at least at the level of the queens. How can they be believably protrayed as a mindless force for total destruction, essentially? (Not to mention that they don't seem to be a sustainable system because they would overrun *everything*, having no predators that could control their population. But anyway.) Their hive mentality reminds me of the hive queen in Ender's Game, but the buggers/formics, while a hostile alien invasion, were actually capable of coexisting with other species once they sorted things out. The Vord don't seem to be... which is kind of a weak mark in a series where the protagonists have progressively allied themselves with the Marat (book 1), Canem (book 4), and now a truce with the Icemen. To treat the Vord as a qualitatively different enemy, one that can't be reasoned with, seems a cheat. On the other hand, if Tavi does pull a "Speaker for the Dead" and end up negotiating with the Vord queen, that will be a pretty tough sell for me. I kind of feel like Butcher has painted himself into the corner on this one.
I liked Tavi's adventures in Canea because we got to hang out with Max, Crassus, Kitai, and "Marcus", who are some of my favorite characters in this series. And because there were lines like this:
"You used me," Tavi said.
[Kitai's] smile widened. "And it worked. You are a marvelous talking cow."
"Horse," Tavi corrected wearily. "Stalking horse."
Kitai tilted her head. "What idiot would so endanger a perfectly good horse?"
The revelation of what Tavi's Cane name (Tavar) meant was cutely done, if not, you know, subtly. I do feel like Tavi is treading the Gary-Stu line... but he is occasionally stupid enough still to not be all god-like, so it hasn't really annoyed me yet.
I really liked the description of the war with the Vord in Alera. I think at this point Gaius is my favorite character (just in time for his predictable -- if spectacular -- end), and it was good to spend some time in his company, and having Ehren be his minder was nice, too -- they have an amusing dynamic going. He still gets some pretty good quotes, like: "Aquitane thinks me his enemy. The fool. If I truly hated him, I'd give him the Crown." and dialogue:
"Your opinion, Cursor?" the First Lord murmured.
Ehren swallowed. "Frankly, sire, I believe I'm entirely too terrified to offer you a useful opinion for the time being."
"I see," Gaius said, mild disapproval in his tone. "When you've regained control of yourself, I should appreciate it if you would please let me know."
"Very good, sire."
I also just plain like reading about grand battles and fury-assisted warfare (my favorites were the sweeping description of High Lord Rhodes before he falls in engaging the Vord queen, and Aquitane using the river for cover when he attacks the Vord flank). Neat to see what Attis Aquitane will do as High Lord, too. I'm pretty sure there's a climactic confrontation between him and Invidia coming in the next book (where I'm pretty sure she kills him, or maybe they kill each other).
I didn't mind the Amara and Bernard spying subplot because, while I don't much care for Amara (although she's gotten loads better and doesn't actively annoy me anymore -- it's just residual dislike from the first two books), interesting stuff was going on. I thought the ploy with the slave collar(s) was really clever (and didn't see that coming, which doesn't happen much in these books). (And, uh. I don't know how to say this, but now I'm kind of wondering if there Bernard/Amara slave-collar kink!fic out there -- there's totally room for a missing scene in the text -- or slave-collar kink!fic in general. But anyway.)
Isana still annoys me, though, again, less now that she is not all mysteriously mourning and instead actually doing something. I still think she's a Mary-Sue, but I mind her less. I didn't find her subplot particularly believable -- either people's actions (it was good, but not terribly believable to see oh-so-kind Aria snap and insult Doroga, for example -- and it doesn't count if the firecrafting was making her do that, which is too bad) or the explanation for how the firecraftings are causing the hostilities which have no other source (copout!), but I did like the Icemen, the near-telepathic communication and the way they had peace chiefs and war chiefs. And Doroga's commentary on the juris macto was quite amusing (I like Doroga). I also didn't particularly buy the motivation Isana discovered for Raucus's dislike towards Gaius (ditto for Attis Aquitane), but, OK, it's kind of neat to know that Raucus, Attis, and Septimus were best buddies. And I still wonder what the deal was with Aldrick, since he was mentioned again... This gives me hope, at least, that something will be revealed eventually about that and it's not just a loose end.
Oh, and to go back right to the beginning, I thought Tavi's ploy with the golden slave chains was really, really neat.
So, I'm actually rather looking forward to the next book, which is meant to be the "thrilling conclusion" of the series -- First Lord's Fury (out in November).
15. Cate Tiernan, Chalice of Wind, Balefire #1
16. Cate Tiernan, Circle of Ashes, Balefire #2
17. Cate Tiernan, Feather of Stone, Balefire #3 -- I picked up these books because I read the SWEEP books by this author and they were witchy YA crack. No, seriously, I couldn't put them down, and I'd read three in one day if the library had three at a time. It was kind of insane. These books are a good deal less addictive, probably largely because, while SWEEP was written pretty much in first-person of the single protagonist, with the story unfolding and characters being gradually added to it, the Balefire books start out with two first-person POVs (girls that turn out to be twin sisters, separated at birth), interspersed with third-person short chapters from members of the Treize, who are mysterious and mysteriously connected to each other. So, the splintered POVs aren't nearly as addictive, although I did think the books got more difficult to put down as the series went on and the plot picked up.
The characters and plot are about what you would expect from YA paranormal, so not really worth talking about, between good girl Thais and wild girl Clio, the choice of love interests (they find themselves in a love triangle), and variously benevolent or scary adults with their mysteries. I did like the antagonistic/friendly relationship between Richard and Luc (e.g. "If they told Petra about you screwing them both, she's going to have your blood." Luc flushed. "I didn't screw either one of them." "Sorry. I meant screw over." "Bite me.") And I find Axelle's vague attachment to Thais and having her stabilize the household with shopping sort of endearing.
A couple of things I did find interesting or unusual or distrubing, though: Quite a few "bad words" but the series stops short of "fuck", although the girls, improbably, use both "fricking" and "effing" instead. In the first three books, nobody has sex on screen, but the girls come close to it, and there are references to past sex with Clio (they're 17). And then there are the weird things brought about by the fact that the members of the Treize are immortal and frozen at the time of the great rite that made them so. Thus, Manon remains a pubescent girl forever, which is why it's really rather weird that the book dwells on her and Sophie being lovers. The lesbian angle would've been kind of impressive, but then there's the pseudo-pedophelia thing... I mean, Manon is two and a half centuries old, so definitely not a child, and it's quite explicit that the relationship with Sophie didn't start for a long time after the rite. But it's still kind of... weird. And another chracter, Axelle, seeing Manon, thinks she would make a great child prostitute. It's just a really odd touch to have in a YA series, you know? And then there's Richard, who is (presumably, in the first three books, at least) the twins' ancestor, many, many generations removed. And he hooks up with Clio. Which, OK, there's 13 generations between them, but still... getting it on with yout great-great-great-etc.-grandfather? WEIRD. And both Richard and Luc seem to do a lot of grabbing and kissing the twins against their will, which is not treated as sufficiently skeevy, IMO.
At the end of book 3, there are still several unanswered questions (or possibly I missed the answers): Where is Melita, who orchestrated the first rite? She seems to be working to kill the twins, but how? Through Marcel? What "terrible secret" do Marcel and Manon share?
18. Robin McKinley, Chalice -- I bypassed this book at the library a time or two because the blurb made it sound quite boring. And then I read queenofthorns's review and felt a lot better about it, so I snatched it up when I saw it next at the library. I'm glad I did, because it was really, really lovely.
I very much like Mirasol, the protagonist. She feels very human -- uncertain and tired and occasionally naive, but also brave and practical and determined to do the best she can, and in general fallible in believable ways that don't detract from either her intelligence or likeability. I liked the Master a lot, too, who is (at first) both not-quite-human and very sympathetic, trying to do his duty even if it kills him (and it well might). I liked the Grand Senechal a lot from the first, too, and was glad to see him become an ally and not just a forbidding figure who Mirasol thought was put off by her. The secondary characters are all sort of interchangeable and not very clearly drawn, but that's totally OK, because Mirasol's focus is very much on the Master and the demesne itself, which is a very well realized character, for all that it's largely inanimate, as are Mirasol's bees and even the ponies who figure in the story.
I loved the world-building, with the demesnes and the earthlines and the Circle and the duties of the Chalice, too, and how it's all revealed very naturally, in drips and drabs, not in huge info dumps. I'm quite sure all twelve members of the Circle are mentioned, but never more than 3-4 at a time, for example. Similarly, I liked the slow, veiled way in which it is (mostly) revealed what happened to the previous Master and Chalice -- it's quite believable in that way where people don't want to talk about a great terrible thing that happened and therefore skirt it obliquely in conversation. I loved all the ways in which honey and fire pervaded this book, all the little homey details of Mirasol's bee-keeping and random touches of reality like the linden-carved dormouse figurine left over from the old Chalice's wood carvings collection.
The narration was absolutely lovely, and, without feeling the least bit emotionally manipulative, the book made me choke up a couple of times, such as when the Master asks Mirasol if she were trying to kill herself by freezing to death on Listening Hill, or when he cannot remember his human name, only the name in the Fire, and she tells him what it was.
There was only one thing I didn't like as much as the rest of the book, and that was the resolution. I am very much on board with the Master getting to keep his demesne, obviously, and it seemed quite fitting that it should be so with Mirasol's help and/or through her existence as the Chalice. I also liked the fact that it's a victory that does require death and sacrifice -- of bees, OK, but after spending the whole book in their company, the bees really feel like characters, and their loss did touch me, and it was clear that this was a very real sacrifice for Mirasol as well, and the darkly fantastic landscape of drifts of dead bees is also a very nice touch. What I didn't like about the resolution, specifically, was the Master turning back into a human and Mirasol deciding to marry him. My reaction to the last may be a little surprising, actually, because I was shipping Master/Mirasol from the first half of the book, and was disappointed when it was mentioned that Masters and Chalices could not marry/be lovers. I think, actually, that the disappointment with the latter may be related to the former, too, the fact that the Master becomes fully human. Maybe it's just that I found the not-quite-human Master gradually learning to fit in his demesne and in his new role more compelling than the "Beauty and the Beast" reversion to his old form. And I also found the relationship between not-quite-human-Master and Mirasol-the-Chalice more compelling than the one wherein they're both fully human. I'm not sure I can articulate why... But there was the tension in that relationship, being joined by common duty which went deeper even than one's humanity, that was more interesting. And Mirasol thought it was beautiful that the Master could see in IR... seems sad to lose it, somehow. Or -- and scanning over the last pages I don't think this is either supported or refuted by anything in the book -- did the Master not simply revert to human but transmute into something else under the bees? Priests of the fourth level look human again, apparently, and the bees did burn the Heir... but that doesn't seem right, either, as you'd think Mirasol would have felt it if he was not human. Anyway...But that's a pretty minor quibble for a book that I otherwise liked very much.
19. Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky (Tiffany book 2) -- I wasn't expecting to like this very much, because I didn't much care for i>Wintersmith (I read it, and liked it on the whole, but my expectations for Pterry are a lot higher than that, and it didn't meet those) and even Wee Free Men is not among my favorites. But I really like this one! It felt much more like the Witches books usually do. I've always liked/respected Tiffany as a character, but this one sort of took it to a new level. Maybe because of all the interaction with Granny Weatherwax. Probably.
I liked the darker aspects of it -- Tiffany dealing with loss, and with seeing the darkness inside herself (she actually *kills* someone, even if not quite as fatally as that sounds), and even when she is not possessed, snarking at Annagramma. I liked the nature of the hiver, the fact that it's not *evil*, but rather more destructive and difficult to stop for that (and I'm rather proud of myself for figuring out the answer to the third wish question just a little ahead of Tiffany). I liked what this book has to say about being a witch -- the drudge-like aspects of it, and lack of gratitude, and how Granny Weatherwax's manipulative and dishonest approach can be more effective in the short term than the well-meaning but over-the-head approach of Miss Level. I liked both Tiffany and Granny having issues with shambles, and I like the idea behind the shambles, too. The interaction between Granny and Tiffany is just great, and I was especially moved by the moment when Granny addresses Tiffany as "madam," right after Tiffany responds in the affirmative to "do you have it in you to be a witch by noonlight, far away from your hills?"
Speaking of Granny Weatherwax, I loved this quote: "They say that if you cut her with a knife, she wouldn't bleed until she wanted to! They say that when some vampires bit her, they all started to crave tea and sweet biscuits. She can do anything, be anywhere!" -- I love the idea of Granny as a sort of Discworld Chuck Norris, and I also love that these are actual references to actual Witch books, although a bit exaggerated for effect (Maskerade and Carpe Jugulum, if I'm not mistaken). Oh, and this quote, too: "For an old woman Mistress Weatherwax could move quite fast. She strode over the moors as if distance was a personal insult."
The Feegles are cute and funny and livened up the book. I actually laughed aloud -- a lot -- when reading the scenes where they are trying to pretend to be a human. And the stuff between Jeannie and Rob Anybody was nice, too, and Awfully Wee Billy Bigchin became a favorite of mine among the Feegles.
Old people as apparently a bulletproof way to make me tear up. I did during most of the scenes featuring Mr. Weavall, and when Tiffany was thinking about Granny Aching, too.
I even liked the hints at the beginning of the relationship with Roland, much better than I liked that aspect in Wintersmith. It actually felt like Wintersmith was a step backwards in a lot of respects, which is odd...
Quotes:
"When I was a child, they thought I was twins," she said over one of her shoulders. "And then... they thought I was evil," she said, over another shoulder.
"Are you?" said Tiffany.
Both of Miss Level turned around, looking shocked.
"What kind of question is that to ask anyone?" she said.
"Um... the obvious one?" said Tiffany. "I mean, if they said, 'Yes I am! Mwahahaha!' that would save a lot of trouble, wouldn't it?"
"Ferns! [...] Everywhere! Big ferns! And big things, like cows made out of lizards!"
"[W]izards sought power all the time and sometimes found, in their treacherous circles, not some demon that was so stupid that it could be tricked with threats and riddles, but the hiver, which was so stupid that it could not be tricked at all."
20. Ellen Kushner and Delia Sherman, The Fall of the Kings -- I read the beginning chapter of this in Privilege of the Sword or Swordspoint, I forget which, and was kind of meh about it, because reading about second-world academia seemed kind of dull in comparison to the adventures and intrigue of Swordspoint and Privilege, so I didn't seek it out, but I did grab it when I spotted it at the library, just sitting there. I enjoyed it well enough, though not without reservations -- but for totally different reasons than I'd anticipated.
My favorite part ended up being the academia, actually... Basil's lectures, the challenge, the difference in academic philosophy and approaches, and especially the relationships among Basil's students and their varied relationships with and views of him. I found Theron's various plights not very compelling at all. Like Alec, he seems to be a character who appeals to the author(s) far more than he does to me. I did pity him when he was in the grip of the magic spell, and liked his interaction with Frannie, but the rest of the time I found him not very interesting and needlessly overwrought. The noble intrigue was OK, but felt kind of tacked on -- all that stuff with Galing and the Serpent Chancellor and that (kind of like the Michael Goodwin arc in Swordspoint, though at least it was not dropped quite so abruptly). And the magic was, well, it was neat enough -- I really liked Theron's mental transformation into a deer, but it also felt sort of pointless. I mean, there was a kind of grandeur to the old kings and wizards, but it all felt like fake, hyped-up grandeur, and I was never rooting for the magic or the kings to return. In fact, I was rather mourning Basil's transformation from a first-rate scholar and teacher to a mediocre wizard. (I liked the non-magical rituals of the various holidays far better than the magic.)
I also thought the ending was kind of... pointless. I suppose the fact that Theron lived and Jessica kept the book leaves the door open for stuff to happen, but, eh, it's not the sort of stuff I'm interested in, I guess.
I didn't care for Basil's and Theron's relationship at all. I know it wasn't meant to be taken as a healthy one, but while I could get behind Alec/Richard if only because Richard seemed to want it and I wanted Richard to be happy, I was actively, gleefully waiting for Basil/Theron to blow up. I did like one aspect of it, though, because it felt so familiar: Theron having to compete with Basil's research. "Understand, my dear; this is my one time free of lectures, free of students -- time to get some real work done" -- if I had a nickel for every time I've heard that! :P Oh, and also I did find it cute that Basil exaggerated his conquests when Theron asked him how many lovers he'd had: "Basil tabulated his actual conquests, added the ones he might have had if he had cared to try for them, and answered, 'Eight. Or so.'" I actually kind of wanted Theron to end up with Genevieve. He doesn't love her, but given his track record with the people he did love, that might not be an argument against it, you know? And she is very much an innocent, but I got the feeling she would grow up nicely, especially when she asks things like, "Would you eat all my jewelry?" At any rate, I wish her well.
I thought the resolution of Theron's predicament and betrothal was handled way too easily -- Jessica, in effect, felt like nothing more than an improbably colorful deus ex machina. (I do wonder if the story of how she came about, daughter of Alec and the Black Rose, was already in its final form when they wrote Kings of if Kushner had to make it up in such a way that it fit the Kings backstory when it came to writing Privilege -- those parts in Privilege always did seem kind of tacked on and odd to me). Speaking of continuity: I didn't feel like Duchess Katherine in Kings was all that consistent with Kate from Privilege. I do understand that something like 45 years had passed and she had to grow from a young girl into a woman of power, but still, she didn't feel like the same person. I'm sure Jessica was a terror, but I don't really see Kate clashing with her to the degree that's implied. And I feel like the person who was so helpful to Artemisia, for all her drama, would be a bit more understanding when it came to Theron as well. I dunno, it just struck me as off. I did think Marcus Ffoliot in this book felt like an extension of the Marcus in Privilege, and I liked him as a father a lot, and the Ffoliot family dynamics were amusing, though they didn't feel quite real to me. But I liked those family scenes anyway.
I may not have liked the principles or felt that Katherine was "in character", but I did like some characters in this thing. Justis Blake is my favorite, I think. He is the kind of calm, sensible character of Kushner's whom I *do* like, and the fact that he does not adore Basil but sees him clearly was refreshing. But at the same time I liked Lindley and his idealistic, fiery ways, and Peter Goodwin, who seems to a different sort of noble-born idealism to him. (I also loved the cameo appearance of Michael Goodwin, which feels like pure fanservice, but I don't care.) I liked Theron's mother Sophia, better than I did in "The Death of the Duke," at any rate. And I liked bit player Ned Tielman (Galing's friend/ex-lover) and his wife, who seemed like a rare normal couple in this world. Oh, and I liked Lord Arlen, too, but how could I not like a character whose first spoken words are "Do you mean my making you kick your hells for hours, or do you mean my trying to startle you out of you skin?" in response to a protestation of delight. I would have liked to see more interplay between Arlen and grown-up-Katherine-from-Privilege, for instance, or Arlen and Michael Goodwin. And I thought Frannie the aspiring writer was very, very cute.
Quotes:
"Elton, who had studied mathematics along with astronomy, had come up with a theory that the earth, and possibly everything else as well, revolved around the sun. Cassius supported him on the basis of mathematics, Rugg on the basis of friendship. St Cloud privately thought the entire question uninteresting and unimportant, the relative antics of the sun and earth having no discernable effect on human history. But he was entirely in sympathy with Elton's methodology."
"From the center of the Court, a group struck up the chorus of a traditional Last Night song, old as the hills and at least as dirty, and soon the air shivered with it. Justis found himself bawling along with the rest, tuneless as a cat in heat and ignorant of everything save the chorus, which he sang twice as loud because he knew the words."
"Those incidents are not evidence," Arlen said coldly. "They are coincidence magnified to significance through the lens of ambition."
21. Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn -- this is one of those books, like Amber, that I'm embarrassed about not having read earlier. But now I have, and I liked it just as much as I would've expected, based on what a wonderful storyteller Beagle is. I thought I would be crying a lot during it, because I did during "Two Hearts", the short story sort-of-sequel, but I actually did not. I guess I find old men and children more moving than I do young men in love and unicorns. But anyway.
The writing is beautiful, almost all of it like a poem in prose, like in this description of the Red Bull, for instance: "no shape at all, but a swirling darkness, the red darkness you see when you close your eyes in pain." And all these phrases I'd heard before but didn't realize were quotations from here jumped out at me, like, "the horrid glory of her wings" (a title of a future matociquala short story), "when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits," or "Real magic can never be made by offering up someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back."
So, yeah, the descriptions of everything were beautiful. I found Schmendrick an interesting, poignant character, and especially liked these two lines of his: "You deserve the services of a great wizard, but I'm afraid you'll have to be glad of the aid of a second-rate pickpocket," and the surrounding scene, and, "They love you more, I think, though I do the best I can". Thought the Midnight Carnival interlude was sad and scary and felt like a real fairy tale, and also a bit something like you'd encounter in Gaiman (who is, of course, a big fan of Beagle; actually, on the whole, I felt, retroactively, like Stardust was trying to be something along the lines of this book). Thought the interlude with Captain Cully and his men was weird and rather different in tone from the rest of the book, but nevertheless funny (especially the fake ballad). The love story between Lir and Amalthea didn't do much for me, but I did find his early courtship of her funny and the unicorn at his death and the fact that she did not say anything when she appeared to him later quite poignant. And her words to him as Amalthea, towards the end: "I will not love you when I am a unicorn, and you will love me only because you cannot help it." I like the fact that Haggard, the ostensible villain, is not seen so much as evil as sad: "Haggard [..] I was getting to like him. I still do. He looked so frightened."
Another thing I really like is that one of the townsfolk of Hagsgate challenges Lir on his speach that "it is your greed and your fear that have destoryed you": "The townsfolk sighed in resignation, but a middle-aged woman stepped forward and said with some spriti, 'It all seems a bit unfair, my lord, begging your pardon. What could we have done to save the unicorns? We were afraid of the Red Bull. What could we have done?'" His response does not let them off the hook, but I like the fact that the challenge is there in the first place. You usually wouldn't get that sort of thing with the hero.
On a final random note: the princess Schmendrick and Molly Grue meet at the end says the her uncle, "the bloody Duke Wolf" is forcing her to "wed his fat son, the Lord Dudley". I'm probably reading too much into it, and I know JKR's said she doesn't read fantasy, but I'm wondering at the coincidence of fat cousin Dudley...
22. Elizabeth Bear (matociquala), All the Windwracked Stars -- I liked it! The themes Bear writes about don't necessarily resonate for me, but I like the way she writes, her dialogue and narration, and little details (like the fact that Kasimir ticks in the cold like a kiln), and her characters (none I've fallen in love with, but I like a number of them), and her plots are cool, and her worldbuilding is the best thing about her writing for me. And this world is peri-apocalyptic Norse mythology, which is just COOL.
When I was reading matociquala's progress notes about this book, as she was completing it, I found myself expecting to like Mingan, and I did. I liked him quite a lot, not just as a character, although that too, but also the way Bear writes about him, the choice of words and diction she uses. I hope I like him as much in the other Edda of Burdens books (which I definitely plan to read). I didn't like or dislike Muire -- she is just not my kind of character, it appears; I've yet to encounter a female protagonist of Bear's who is (neither Cricket in Undertow nor Percival or Riene in Dust, which is all I've read of her so far). I did like Cathoair (though I didn't feel quite as protective of him as I thought I was supposed to), and Selene, who is uncomplicated in a way that I find easy to relate to, and, of course, Cristokos the rat-mage (rat-mage!), and I liked Astrid, for all that she wasn't in the book very much. I don't think I found Kasimir to be as cool as I was supposed to, though I do find his form to be quite intriguing, both as a living creature and as a steampunk one. I liked Gunther, too, as a living man in flashback and as a fetch, his "Happy Birthday" ritual and the necessarily elided, understated way in which he tells Muire (how) to kill him. And, heck, I liked the Technomancer, too, for what she was, because she is not a villain so much as someone who cannot afford to see the error of a desperate choice.
Plot-wise, I liked the sort-of mystery and various character backgrounds as they emerged, and in general just exploring the setting. I thought the chunk of the book starting with Cathoair inadvertently killing Astrid and ending with the Serpent making him into an einherjar was kind of deus ex machiny -- it didn't flow as logically for me as the rest of it, but felt more like the author needing to get the characters from point A to point B by some means. I wasn't wild about the resolution, but it did feel fitting, so I'm good with it, I guess.
Random things I liked: Cathoair encountering the pushy chair (when reading matociquala's progress notes after I finished the book, as I tend to do with her stuff, I saw she referred to this scene as Cathoair wandering into a Neil Gaiman story. Hee.)
I wish I could sort out what was going on with the "you" vs "thee" between Muire and Mingan, but I don't actually feel like pondering it, so I'll just wait and hope that the backstory will make that clear.
23. Melissa Marr, Wicked Lovely -- this is an urban YA fantasy with fairies, which I picked up mainly because the premise seemed somewhat similar to Tithe and because of a blurb from Tamora Pierce on the back. It ended up being not at all what I'd expected, but I enjoyed it, despite the writing striking me as rather clunky early on. For a little bit in the middle, when the Summer King of the Faerie enrolls in Aislinn's high school, I worried this was headed in Twilight territory, but it was emphatically not, which was a relief. There were some things about it that I liked, and some things about it that were pretty unusual for urban YA fantasy that I thought were neat for that reason if no other, and then some things I didn't care for as much, but it was an interesting read on the whole, and I would read this author again.
Things I liked: The plot weaves together traditional ballad-like elements into something that ends up subverting faerie story expectations. Aislinn, who can see faeries, finds herself pursued by Keenan, who is the king of the Summer court. She does not fall for him, despite his seduction, and she does not even end up in a love triangle with him and her human boyfriend, Seth, as I was starting to think might happen. Instead, she very emphatically does not want to have anything romantic to do with Keenan. Even when it becomes clear she is the prophesied Summer Queen, she lays out the boundary conditions to him: it's just a job for her, and she wants to be friends, nothing more, and retain her relationship with Seth. And as, touched by Keenan's magic, Aislinn becomes less mortal and more faery, Seth the human boyfriend is her rock of strength and connection to the human world. So there's all this "Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight" and gender-bent "Tam Lin" stuff going on, and straight "Tam Lin," too, because Aislinn is needed to rescue Keenan from the Winter Queen his mother. Anyway, I thought the combination of familiar elements in an unusual way was interesting, and elevated this book above the meh writing and unremarkable characterization.
Things I thought were neat because they are unusual for a YA urban fantasy, even if I wasn't crazy about the execution: Like the Tithe books, this one is not a wholesome YA fantasy. There's drinking and drug use and sleeping around going on (though our protagonist does not engage in any of them), so there's a somewhat grittier feel to the real world, as well as the Winter/dark faerie "atrocities." That in itself is not unusual. But there are some implications that are explored that I thought were. For instance, when Aislinn gets drunk on faerie wine and can't remember what happened afterwards between her and Keenan, Seth essentially compares the faerie wine to roofies and tries to convince her that even if anything happened between them, it's not her fault. (I did think that the subsequent "OMGyay, I'm still a virgin!" scene when Keenan confirms that he just brought her home and nothing happened was a little weird. Not that Aislinn shouldn't be relieved, but she was relieved in a way that struck me as a bit weird -- not that she had not been violated, but that she would be able to have her first time with someone special. But anyway. And then, as Aislinn and Seth are getting closer to sex (nothing graphic, though sex is talked about pretty frankly), he gives her printouts of his STD tests (clean bill of health), which I don't think I've seen in non-fantasy YA books, let alone fantasy ones, at least not so explicitly on-screen. Like the virginity thing, it's a little odd in that it seems to take up a disproportionate amount of screen time and thus stands out as a potential authorial moral moment, but, anyway, I thought that was interesting. Not quite on the same level, but I thought Keenan reading "La Belle Dame Sans Merci" while pretending to be a student in high school and arguing that maybe the faerie had some good reasons for so ensnaring the mortal knight, was kind of interesting, if not particularly subtle.
Things I didn't like: I mentioned the writing was pretty weak, but either it got better as the book went on, or I stopped noticing it. The thing that bothered me the most was actually the world-building around the faeries. The worst part is that they didn't feel strange and perilous enough. The Winter Queen, Beira, is vicious, oppresses her House Elves woodsprites, kills her minions for laughing at the wrong moment, has killed the previous Summer King and bound Keenan his son, and enjoys tormenting him with her cold. She also swans around dressed as a June Cleaver sort, wearing pearls and pretending to bake Keenan cookies. I get what Marr was going for there, but it just falls flat. She feels like a cartoonish idea of a villain, not somebody really scary, and not... well, not Faery enough. Same deal with Keenan, actually, and all of his faeries. We get his POV, and it's not much different from the human teenager POVs at all. And the Summer court are way too goody-goody. The neat thing about Faeries is that even the relatively "good" ones are cold and scary and thoughtless of mortals, but these summer court folks, even in their somewhat fallen state, are not like that. Which makes them a lot less interesting. That was what bugged me the most, but there were some other things. There are some bits that I think are supposed to be red herrings that turn into loose ends (Aislinn's parentage, for instance).
I found the Keenan and Donia resolution kind of tacked on; I was rooting for them to get together for a while, but the way in which it happened was pretty weak, and felt like an afterthought. I mentioned the characters are not that impressive, but probably worth touching on anyway. Keenan and Beira, as I said, are not inhuman enough for my taste, and Donia the mortal-turned-Winter Girl is way too emo for my taste. The other faeries, Tavish and Niall are not faerie enough either, but I could see my way to shipping Keenan/Niall if I cared about this book more. Seth is sort of the ideal boyfriend, smart and kind and all-understanding, willing to wait as long as it takes and giving Aislinn all the space and support she needs. He's got piercings and a pet boa and lives in a set of railroad cars for extra coolness, and constantly quirks (or crooks) his eyebrows, but doesn't feel so much as a real character as wish fulfillment. The rest of Aislinn's friends are all 2D at best. Her Grandmother is slightly more interesting, being both progressive and cool but also (understandably) paranoid and therefore stifling. Which leaves Aislinn as the only real character in the book. She is OK -- she thinks before she does something, and she is a mixture of careful and reckless, and she is understandably freaked out by the circumstances she finds herself in, but also able to tap into reserves of inner strength. And I like that, when Keenan tells her she basically has no choice but to go with one of two unpalatable options and then mentions the Winter Queen, she quite reasonably asks, "Who's the Winter Queen? Could she help me?" She's not instantly on his side but is believably skeptical.
Randomly, I wonder if Aislinn's friend Carla is named so in homage to War for the Oaks, where Carla is Eddi's friend and bandmate. It's not that common a name...
I note that there is apparently a companion novel to this one, Ink Exchange, which deals with Irial and Leslie, two minor characters from this novel, and Fragile Eternity, which is a straight sequel to Wicked Lovely. Will keep an eye out for those.
Currently reading: Ill Met in the Arena by Dave Duncan, with plans to being Jhegaala next (the hold is at the library, waiting for me, and I shall go and liberate it Saturday if not sooner).