The Goblin Emperor, Katherine Addison
I spent last Friday sick in bed reading The Goblin Emperor. Aside from the sick part, it was a lovely way to spend the day.
There's a good chance that I'm the last person on my flist to read this book, but in case not: it's a court intrigue fantasy in which Maia, the youngest, half-goblin son of the Emperor of the Elflands unexpectedly ascends to the throne, when his father and brothers are killed in an airship crash that was no accident.
Some non-spoilery thoughts: the role of wonder and other Romantic elements in a book about the politics of elves is kind of complicated, isn't it? Maia's memories of his childhood are full of beauty and terror, starkness and strangeness, both for him and the reader. But then he comes to court, and we're down to business: trading monopolies, land use conflicts, and trying to get the issue of a new bridge onto the agenda... while fending off assassination attempts. Aside from their fashions and their (sometimes long and hard-to-pronounce) names, the elves and goblins are just people trying to get shit done. Maia himself feels that transition, and at one point he recognizes how strange it is that to many of his subjects, he has become an object of wonder, when from his point of view his life has never been more of a grind. So it helped my transition, to feel the viewpoint character go through it too, but part of me was always longing for more beauty and strangeness in the latter parts of the book. Because otherwise why elves?
I did like how the book handled the tension between archaic and more modern views of gender and other aspects of justice. It was entirely believable that because of his specific life experiences, Maia was ready to bring progress to his court; he never felt like a character with modern sensibilities randomly plunked down in the past, which is so often a problem in historical romances.
More spoilery:
I absolutely loved Maia's conversation with Shulivar, the revolutionary. Maia's ascent to the throne was carefully planned; the assassination wasn't a random spasm of rage against his father, and it wasn't for the benefit of one of his noble rivals. Maia was chosen by his subjects, by ordinary workers (or at least by one very canny worker); they were willing to gamble that he would bring change. In a way, Maia is complicit now that he knows the truth, because Shulivar was absolutely right. I love Maia's gentleness and kindness, but I also love that this truth will always make his view of violence more complicated. Because Shulivar was right, and the assassination worked.
This entry was originally posted at http://loligo.dreamwidth.org/445316.html.
comments on that entry. Comments on Dreamwidth preferred.
There's a good chance that I'm the last person on my flist to read this book, but in case not: it's a court intrigue fantasy in which Maia, the youngest, half-goblin son of the Emperor of the Elflands unexpectedly ascends to the throne, when his father and brothers are killed in an airship crash that was no accident.
Some non-spoilery thoughts: the role of wonder and other Romantic elements in a book about the politics of elves is kind of complicated, isn't it? Maia's memories of his childhood are full of beauty and terror, starkness and strangeness, both for him and the reader. But then he comes to court, and we're down to business: trading monopolies, land use conflicts, and trying to get the issue of a new bridge onto the agenda... while fending off assassination attempts. Aside from their fashions and their (sometimes long and hard-to-pronounce) names, the elves and goblins are just people trying to get shit done. Maia himself feels that transition, and at one point he recognizes how strange it is that to many of his subjects, he has become an object of wonder, when from his point of view his life has never been more of a grind. So it helped my transition, to feel the viewpoint character go through it too, but part of me was always longing for more beauty and strangeness in the latter parts of the book. Because otherwise why elves?
I did like how the book handled the tension between archaic and more modern views of gender and other aspects of justice. It was entirely believable that because of his specific life experiences, Maia was ready to bring progress to his court; he never felt like a character with modern sensibilities randomly plunked down in the past, which is so often a problem in historical romances.
More spoilery:
I absolutely loved Maia's conversation with Shulivar, the revolutionary. Maia's ascent to the throne was carefully planned; the assassination wasn't a random spasm of rage against his father, and it wasn't for the benefit of one of his noble rivals. Maia was chosen by his subjects, by ordinary workers (or at least by one very canny worker); they were willing to gamble that he would bring change. In a way, Maia is complicit now that he knows the truth, because Shulivar was absolutely right. I love Maia's gentleness and kindness, but I also love that this truth will always make his view of violence more complicated. Because Shulivar was right, and the assassination worked.
This entry was originally posted at http://loligo.dreamwidth.org/445316.html.
comments on that entry. Comments on Dreamwidth preferred.