Monthly Roundup: September 2015

So I spent the majority of the summer imitating a toddler going, "I DON'T WAAANNNAA". It was hot, the house was falling apart, everything sucked, and dammit I just didn't waaaannnaaa.

Now that it's cooled off and my garden has died back, I feel like an adult once more. I also started a new job in August that switched me back to day shift, consequently knocking me on my ass as far as my sleep schedule, so there's been a lot of residual crankiness in that department too. Suffice to say, I'm feeling a bit kinder towards the authors I'm reading at this time.

Here's some quick thoughts on books I read these last few months:

Writing Fiction - Janet Burroway
Nonfiction
I had this book recommended to me as part of the Writers in Paradise conference as a great reference text on crafting fiction. On the one hand, I do see how this kind of thing is helpful and contains a lot of good information. On the other? It's a slog, and while the info seems really good and helpful when you read it, for me it's not so easy to retain that information and apply it to my own works. It's one thing to think in the abstract and say, "A character needs contradictions to be three dimensional!" and another to apply that to creating your own characters. My own process often feels so nebulous and meandering, and things just kind of seem to happen or they don't. These are things that are, maybe, better applied during an editing phase than a first draft. I still firmly believe that the most important thing about a first draft is to just word vomit it all out and clean it up later, and that's worked ok for me so far. Now that I'm on, say, a third draft of a big project and it's morphed into a completely different beast from what it started as, these are things I want to keep in the back of my mind but not allow to take over. Good reference, I'll probably keep it around, but I'm conflicted on exactly how much it'll help.

Assholes: A Theory - Aaron James
Nonfiction
Another nonfiction book. I thought this would be a semi-humorous look at why assholes are assholes and strategies to manage their assholeness, but it falls far short of it's promised premise. This seems like an idea that started off really interesting, but would have benefited from handing the first draft to an actual writer. James is circular and monotonous, even when tongue-in-cheek, so that the whole thing just reads like a college freshman's philosophy text. It lacks general accessibility and  readability, which I think would have benefited from someone who could make it more palatable to an average reader.

Voices in the Night - Steven Millhauser
Magical realism
 A collection of short stories that was recommended to me by a writerly friend. It started off very interesting, but quickly fell into a rote pattern--Story is set in Small Town, where Something Weird is happening, but it's totally Normal, even as it is Weird. Relies heavily on American nostalgia and a sense of oddity, which I do like, but not as a pattern. The first half of the book just all felt vaguely similar, and then we got to a retelling of Rapunzel where we dive into the main characters' heads in a rotating turn, which just didn't grab me, and the same goes for a hyperbolic Paul Bunyan short that went on much, much too long. Short stories are difficult, I imagine, to not fall into these traps. Still, I enjoy the sense of magical realism and oddity in each setting, something I want to pull into my own work.

Glamour in Glass - Mary Robinette Kowal
Alternate history, fantasy
 The second in Kowal's Glamourist Histories series, Glamour in Glass follows the now-married couple Jane and Mr. Vincent in Brussels. They develop some neat new glamour techniques, and then get caught up in the Napoleonic wars. At one point, Jane has to use all her wits and techniques at her disposal to rescue her husband. Again I like the worldbuilding and the magic system, which Kowal establishes very well. The relationship between the two isn't particularly compelling, with lots of misunderstandings and such that makes it seem like they don't really understand each other much at all, and doesn't make them seem like a particularly close couple. Just didn't work for me as well as it could have, but as a whole it works well enough that I'll continue to follow the series.

One Good Earl Deserves a Lover - Sarah MacLean
Romance
I've never given romance novels much stock, honestly, especially historical ones. I love historical novels, but historical romances seem to love to throw accuracy to the side in favor of bodice-ripping, and it irritates me to no end. I thought I'd give the genre another chance when MacLean was recommended to me, and this is the second in her Rule of Scoundrels series. They're not bad, if you set your expectations for accuracy low, though I have to say her tendency to make dramatically short sentences/paragraphs is rather grating. It's a style affectation, but I don't care for it. It sticks out like a sore thumb when reading, and I feel like writing styles should be subtler than that. If it trips up a reader, it's too much, girl. But overall, some fun and funny characters, even if the constant harping on their stock personality traits (We get it, Penny is a scientist. She doesn't understand love. She needs to study it and conduct experiments and gets herself into hilarious(!) situations because of it. Enough.) gets overwhelming. At least it's a fast read.

The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Fantasy
It's hard for me to really make up my mind about this book. On the one hand, it plays in such stock fantasy tropes: beautiful elves! A half-breed prince suddenly thrust into a ruling position! Evil stepmothers! Pseudo-medieval speech patterns! Even the names are a bit over-syllabic. And the main character, despite being raised far from civilization and barely educated, manages to do nearly everything right without any realistic missteps. Yet for all that, it still wormed its way into my heart. It's a decent read, if not spectacular. I'm just rather burnt out on elves and royalty.

Texts from Jane Eyre - Mallory Ortberg
Humor
Simply brilliant. Enough said. Re-imagining classic stories through the medium of text (and a dark sense of humor), with references only book nerds will truly understand. Poe can't leave the house because a bird is looking at him, Emily Dickinson is concerned about the man who is definitely snakes, and Hamlet needs his mom to bring him a tuna fish sandwich WITHOUT THE LITTLE CRUNCHY THINGS. Read it and rejoice. Or weep. Whatever.

Raising the Stones - Sheri S. Tepper
Science fiction
This book has long been on my top list for science fiction. There's just something about it that really stuck to me, and, as a pretty avowed atheist, I find it's story of religion-gone-wrong and it's Hobbs Land Gods to be really compelling. A God that works, huh? A God that actually helps people get along, be happier, weeds out the bad seeds, helps them produce more (important on a farming planet!), and helps them communicate. And protects them from threats. This book is the second in a series, of which I have never read the first, but I'm told they aren't really related in story so much as taking place in the same universe, so it's an easy book to drop into the series with. This re-read proves no exception: Tepper is a thumbs-up.

The Magic Wars - Jo Clayton
Fantasy
I've previously talked about the book that got me into fantasy as a child, and how little it held up through the years. This is, finally, the third book in the series, that I found by accident at Half Price Books. I slogged through the others, but I gave up halfway through this book- once the magus falls through the dimensions and lands in Alice's Wonderland tea party, my disbelief is a little far stretched. The writing's not great anyway, and the formatting is annoying. Over it.

So that brings me up to the present time. I'll be trying to get back into the habit of posting about each book as I finish it to continue my dive into understanding what works and what doesn't.

What's coming up for October? Biggest of all: NerdCon Stories, of course. Helpfully based here in Minneapolis, many of my all-time favorite authors are coming to the Minneapolis Convention Center to tell some stories and talk about stories and sell some stories and sign some stories. People like the whole Nightvale podcast crew, John Green, John Scalzi, Maggie Stiefvater, Mara Wilson, Mary Robinette Kowal, Matt de la Pena, Nalo Hopkinson, Paolo Bacigalupi, Patrick Rothfuss and more. I'm going to get so many books signed, you have no idea.

Komarr - Lois McMaster Bujold

Back aboard the Vorkosigan train! I've done a lot of posts on the Vorkosigan and Temeraire series lately, and it may be getting a little repetitive/boring. After all, what new things can I say about the same authors, over and over again? I do try to pick out something new to talk about with each book, even if it ends up being a relatively short post. With the Temeraire series I like to look at how Novik's writing evolves over time, but Bujold has been writing since 1986, whereas Novik's only broken into the mainstream in 2006. A woman with almost thirty years of writing experience is probably at the top of her game, so it's hard to look for the 'improvement' with each book (besides, Vorkosigan was written completely out of chronological order so it's more difficult to see any kind of improvement arc). Maybe I use Bujold's books to analyze what's done right as far as plotting goes. And maybe it's just a nice escape into a world with characters that I really care for.

Komarr sees Miles Vorkosigan on his first assignment as an official Imperial Auditor (technically the ImpSec incident was the first-first assignment, but this is the first after really being assigned the office on a permanent basis). He travels to the planet Komarr with another auditor, to investigate an accident where a ship crashed into a solar array over the planet, and determine if it was deliberate sabotage or not. Naturally, in the vein of Vorkosigan's life, things quickly get complicated. It's also the first time we meet Ekaterin Vorsoisson, who--because I don't believe in spoilers and read some wikis to find out if Miles ever, ever is lucky in love--will eventually become Miles' wife. It's a bit of a thrill to see such an interesting character and know that one day he'll get to have a successful relationship. It's not the point of the book, but when you get attached to a character that is so perennially unlucky--even when he gets lucky!--with the ladies, it's comforting to see him find some happiness.

This is going to end up being one of those short posts.There's just not a lot left for me to say about Bujold short of raving about her characterization and clever dialogue, which I do every time. It's another solid entry in the Vorkosigan series that reliably leaves me asking "What next?"

Realistically I should probably leave the Vorkosigan series for a bit so my posts don't all become this predictable, but it's haaaaaard.

She rested her chin in her hand, and regarded him; her brows quirked in quizzical delight. "Lord Vorkosigan. Can I take a number and get in line?"
Whatever it was he'd been expecting her to say, it wasn't that; he was so taken aback he nearly fell off his chair. Wait, she hadn't meant it to come out sounding quite like--His smile stuck in the on position, but decidedly sideways.
"The next number up," he breathed, "is 'one.'"

Overall: 4 stars

Amazon: Komarr

More reviews: Komarr on Librarything (Average 4.26 stars)

Komarr on Goodreads (Average 4.27 stars)

I wonder who that's supposed to be?

Empire of Ivory - Naomi Novik

Returning to the world of Temeraire like an old friend, we pick up in Empire of Ivory with every dragon in Britain--save Temeraire himself--suffering the effects of the dragon plague. Many have already died, leaving the Corps in dire straits. When Temeraire is exposed, but does not sicken, they begin to wonder if his earlier cold, cured by mushrooms at the Cape on their journey to China, may have been along the same lines. Laurence and Temeraire, and others of their cohort still sick but marginally well enough to travel, head out on Riley's dragon transport ship again to try to recover the cure. Blah blah, things happen, eventually they find the mushrooms, but they also find a civilization in the African interior that again challenges Europe's notions of how dragons and humans must live together. Laurence and Temeraire's crew are taken captive, they rescue them, Capetown is attacked by the African dragons, the Europeans are driven out of Africa, but they return to Britain with the cure. The most interesting part of this book is when Laurence discovers that the military has sent a captured French dragon back to the French--after exposing it to the plague. Without the cure, thousands of dragons all over Europe will die, and so Temeraire and Laurence together decide to steal the cure and bring it to the French, in the hopes of staving off such utter destruction, rending both of them traitors.

This is... not the strongest of the Temeraire series. It's not bad, per se, it just feels like a stepping stone between bigger issues. The previous storylines were almost mandatory based on logical progression: Temeraire must fight in the war for Britain, China must eventually find out, he must return to them to figure out his place in the world, they must return to Britain, etc. This book more feels like an excuse to explore the alternate history culture of another continent, with the only real development plot point coming right at the very end of the book.

I get the commercial sense of having more books in a series (see also every goddamn YA trilogy that could be condensed into one) but it makes me wonder what this series would be like condensed into a more efficient form. I imagine there would be only four books, instead of the total of seven. I also imagine I might skim less pages of introspection and philosophy. I want the meat of the plot, the rest is just sauce.

Still, there are some rather clever moments with the characters that I enjoy, and it's not like I'm going to quit the series or anything. Clearly there's something working, even if I'm getting rather more sauce than meat.

"Jane," Laurnece said, "will you marry me?"
"Why, no, dear fellow," she said, looking up in surprise from the chair where she was drawing on her boots. "It would be a puzzle to give you orders, you know, if I had vowed to obey; it could hardly be comfortable. But it is very handsome of you to have offered," she added, and standing up kissed him heartily, before she put on her coat."

Overall: 3 stars

Amazon: Empire of Ivory

More reviews: Empire of Ivory on Librarything (Average 3.87 stars)

Empire of Ivory on Goodreads (Average 3.91 stars)

Shades of Milk and Honey - Mary Robinette Kowal

My relationship with e-books has had its ups and downs. Initially I was one of those squares who was all, "Real book 4eva! Smell of paper! Musty! Happy!" and then I moved five times and after lugging twenty plus boxes of books everywhere I began to rethink think my stance on seeing books as something to 'collect'. After that I got a Kobo and began exploring the world of free epubs, and eventually for convenience I've migrated to the Kindle app on my phone and computer. The convenience is undeniable: I only have to think of a book and I can find it on Amazon, purchase it in an instant, send it to my phone, and start reading. But as I learn more about some of Amazon's business practices, including the poor treatment of workers in their warehouses and the Amazon/Hatchett fiasco of yesteryear, I'm really considering changing my spending habits to focus more locally. It's a tough call, trying to weigh my consumer conscience with consumer convenience.

Long story short, this book is an example of why I'm just so hesitant to cut that convenience cord. I found this book solely through Amazon recommendations: Jane Austen plus magic? Count me in. It's like Temeraire (Napoleon plus dragons!) but from a lady perspective. And I am all about the lady perspective, being one myself.

So the main story of this book is about Jane and Melody Ellsworth, unmarried sisters of a fairly respectable family. A few cliches jump out at me here, particularly in that Jane is the plain but talented one, and Melody is the pretty but untalented one, and they each are jealous of the other for what they lack. Once you get past that, you've got a fairly Austen-esque story of love triangles, where Melody likes both Mr. Dunkirk and Captain Livingston, and both seem interested in her, but Jane also like Mr. Dunkirk, and Mr. Dunkirk's sister Elizabeth is interested in Captain Livingston, and then there's the artist Mr. Vincent who also is forming an attachment to one of these ladies, etc. etc. Add in a dash of glamour, magic used to create various illusions that is as important as painting or music to a lady's drawing room accomplishments.

The story is okay, but you really have to like that kind of thing to start with. Which I do! It's a niche that I fit neatly into, like people who like romance novels. My only real gripe is the characterization. Jane and Melody are fairly developed characters, but it's them we see the most of. The rest seem fairly flat, which may be due in part to our POV resting solely on Jane, and the restrictions of Regency society. The protocols of social interactions at the time so heavily emphasized propriety that it makes many of the interactions seem similar, and so it's realistic that a girl like Jane would not get to know the intricacies of Mr. Dunkirk or Mr. Vincent's personalities, and by consequence the reader, seeing through her eyes, would also see only what's on the surface. But it does leave our male heroes at a disadvantage because it's hard to root for one of them, when you're not emotionally connecting with any of them. A good romance is romancing the reader as much as the heroine, and without that connection, it's infinitely more difficult.

Also, once we got to the climax of the story, it and the resolution suddenly seemed to flow very quickly compared to the rest of the story. I had to go back and reread the climax to really understand what had happened, who had been shot, etc. and then it felt like within a very short span of time, the happily-ever-after was wrapped up in a nice little bow. It felt a little easy. I would have liked to see a few more obstacles to Jane's romance, after it was acknowledged. Writers are here to throw rocks at their characters: that's what we're here to see. I don't feel it diminished the story, necessarily, but perhaps was a missed opportunity.

But it's still one of those fun reads, a tasty little snack to fill the spaces between bigger, tougher books. I'll probably go on to read the rest of the series as well.

Overall: 3.5 stars

Amazon: Shades of Milk and Honey

More reviews: Shades of Milk and Honey on Librarything (Average 3.5 stars)

Shades of Milk and Honey on Goodreads (Average 3.51 stars)

Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer

When I started this book (available for 2.99 on Kindle at the time - I mean, why not? I'd heard of it.) a friend of mine, who read these books as the actual target audience (a child), implored me. "Don't compare it to Harry Potter," she said. "Just don't."

Inauspicious start.

I fully realize that this book is not written for a reader like myself. What's interesting is that we don't always seem to know who it IS written for: When I researching it to start with, all signs pointed towards Young Adult, but that's clearly incorrect. Young Adult features protagonists in the teenage range, maybe 15-17 or so, whereas Artemis is all of twelve. If anything, it's middle grade, and that's being generous to the writing style. Because the way the book patronizes the reader, I would expect it to be more for the lower end of such.

Seems a weird thing to say about a kids book: patronizing. But I'm serious. I think kids are a lot smarter than we necessarily give them credit for. This book lays everything down in such a heavyhanded manner that there's no room for nuance or inference, which I firmly believe kids CAN pick up on. You don't need a plot point beat into your face in quite the manner that Colfer does--with a mallet, over and over and over.

The characters are all extremely flat, and any dimension they might try to show feels forced. The worst offender is Artemis's mother, written like the author only has the barest glimmer of understanding of mental illness and disdained research, instead falling back on (in my opinion, damaging) stereotypes. Some of your readers might actually have family members with schizophrenia that don't remotely resemble the grab-bag of cliches that don't even apply to schizophrenia you assembled into Angeline Fowl. Not naming any names or anything.

On a more technical note, the POV shifts repeatedly in a single chapter, which is disorienting for a reader. Enough time needs to be spend in each POV to anchor the reader, or it feels like we're drifting all over the place. For this reason it can often be simpler, though by no means required, to stick to a single POV and eliminate the confusion.

So yes, in the vein of "Don't compare it to Harry Potter", I suppose that if I were not coming at this with a background of having read books before, it might fare better. But I don't think you should have to essentially not know any better to be able to enjoy a book if it's well-written. Like Harry Potter. Or Bridge to Terabithia. Or the entirety of the Redwall series, which is clearly written to a child's level and yet manages to not patronize. Hell, The Giver could arguably be middle grade too, if we're going based off of writing complexity and protagonist age, and it not only manages to use complicated and mature themes at kids' level but also uses a lot of inference instead of hammers-to-the-face. It can be done, well and often. Just not so much here.

Overall: 2 stars

Amazon: Artemis Fowl

More reviews: Artemis Fowl on Librarything (Average 3.75 stars)

Artemis Fowl on Goodreads (Average 3.79 stars)

Memory - Lois McMaster Bujold

So I've heard this idea here and there that some books enter your life just when you need them: I totally buy it. At least, I do now. First I talked about Serena, where I really envy the main character's ability to give-no-fucks and get what she wants (although, admittedly, I draw the line at murder). Now I identify heavily with Miles in this, the umpteenth book of Bujold's Vorkosigan series (seriously, I have no idea what number we're at). To explain this, I really have to get right into the meat of the plot.

In books previous to this incarnation, Miles was killed, cryogenically frozen, and reanimated, and still he suffers from some residual side effects of the resurrection process. He finds himself having seizures more and more often, and we open on a rescue mission going catastrophically wrong when Miles seizes while holding a plasma arc and accidentally amputates the legs of the very man he's supposed to be saving. He hadn't told the Dendarii, hoping to keep it secret, and though that cat's out of the bag he still hopes to keep it secret from Illyan and avoid a medical discharge from the Barrayaran military. So he lies on his report. Illyan, naturally, finds out, and does the only thing he can do: he fires Miles for falsifying reports.

Miles' life is completely falling apart, and we spend this book with him figuring out how, exactly, to deal with that, and the guilt of knowing he completely deserved for it to happen.

"Worse. I did that myself. I did it all to myself." - Miles

Why do I find this so personal? Well, I'm about doing the same thing to myself. I currently have a terrible boss at work, and the constant stress is really encouraging me to self-sabotage. For several months now I've felt like I'm watching my career circle the drain--and there's this sense of hopelessness, that I see reflected in Miles. How to go forward?

But, it naturally being a Bujold-written world, nothing can ever be uncomplicated. Illyan starts showing signs of rapid mental decline, and it's attributed to the memory chip in his brain failing. Miles believes that the failure is deliberate sabotage, but the acting head of ImpSec, Haroche, seems to be deliberately stepping in his way. Through a series of pushes where Miles explores his identity as Admiral Naismith vs Miles Vorkosigan, he ends up appointed as an Imperial Auditor, and swiftly unravels the sabotage, restoring balance to the Imperium. He earns his redemption, both internally and externally, as he figures out what it means to be Miles Vorkosigan again, and steps into the permanent role of Auditor, finding a new path forward in his life.

Again, I feel life imitating art: I received a great job offer recently that's also allowing me to continue my life forward on a different path. It's not the way I planned to go forward, but like Miles, I'm finding the opportunity in it.

I don't really have much more to add to this. Bujold is ever wonderful, Miles is ever engaging, Grover Gardner is ever a delight to listen to. I've mentioned previously how I intersperse my more difficult reads (whether because they actually require a higher reading skill or are just more boring) with fun reads, and Vorkosigan is like the equivalent of curling up with a blanket, hot tea and a warm fireplace. It's comforting, no matter how many times I go back to it.

"You have no mass and cannot move me. I'm tired, and I want my supper." - Miles

Overall: 4.5 stars

Amazon: Memory

More reviews: Memory on Librarything (Average 4.49 stars)

Memory on Goodreads (Average 4.42 stars)

Black Powder War - Naomi Novik

Welcome back to the Temeraire train! Still winding my way through a re-read so that I can pick up the latest book in the series right on the heels of the last. In Black Powder War we continue Temeraire and Laurence's journeys, leaving China after Laurence's adoption by the Chinese emperor when the pair receive urgent orders from home to return by way of Turkey and pick up some dragon eggs on the way (a bit like calling one's spouse to get eggs and milk on the way home, but much longer and with more danger). A lot of time in this book is spent traveling, which again, common to the previous books, does not much advance in the way of plot. They employ a guide named Tharkay who appears to be half British and half Mongolian, and implies a certain amount of suffering in consequence by the chip on his shoulder. They cross deserts and mountains, instigate an avalanche and befriend a large group of ferals, reach Turkey only to be denied the agreed-upon eggs, steal the eggs and flee (dropping one in the process, which I'll be honest, is pretty heartbreaking!). They get caught up in the war between France and Prussia, and Granby rather accidentally graduates to captain of a fire-breathing Kazilik from their Turkish eggs. Finally they arrive home, battered and bruised and worse for the wear, to find that all of Britain's dragons save themselves and the ferals they've brought along are sick with a plague and Britain's war effort is in serious danger.

Again the plot often seems as if nothing in particular is happening--there's a lot of flying, a lot of traveling, some waiting, some eating, some philosophizing. But you don't get to the third book in a series without knowing ahead of time that's what you're getting into, and must be okay with it at that point. Novik's got a talent for making that work.

But is this book that gives me the most egregious examples of terrible sentences. I give you:

Maden, who in his trade often served as a factor for British visitors, spoke excellent English, and his family also; they sat to table five, Maden's two sons being already established in their own homes; besides his wife only his daughter Sara remained at home, a young woman well out of the schoolroom: not yet thirty but old to be unmarried with so good a dowry as Maden seemed able to provide, and her looks and manner were pleasing if in a foreign mode, dark hair and brows striking against fair skin, very like her elegant mother.

That is one sentence. One sentence with two semicolons, one colon, and eight commas. I run out of breath just reading the thing. Semicolons are that tricky punctuation that everyone seems to love but few manage to use sparingly enough that they don't become obtrusively obnoxious. Let's boil it down very simply: try not to use them at all, but if you must, use them as little as possible. Periods are not the enemy. Ending sentences does not diminish your work. A period is a breath point, an internal signal for the brain to pause and catch itself; semicolons and commas do not give you that. Look, I just used one! Once.

Incidentally I've been reading about the semicolon tattoos recently and as an amateur punctuation fan I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I appreciate the message, but the metaphor doesn't carry. "A semicolon is used where the author could have ended a sentence and chose not to," so also apply that to your life. It's hard to criticize, because I think many would take it as criticizing the message, which I emphatically repeat that I am not. That said, any writer worth their salt would end that sentence with "...but they probably should have ended the sentence after all, really, because periods are important and semicolons are overused and overvalued."

Sigh. The life of a pedant.

Anyway. Another solid entry in the Temeraire series. I will note that for all my criticism I did not find these kinds of semicolon issues in Novik's most recent release Uprooted--or at least, they were few enough that they weren't obtrusive, which is really the goal. A writer can certainly (and probably should) improve their writing skill with each book as they learn more and more about their craft, so I do not lobby this as insults against Novik herself by any means. I still envy her ability to weave a story and hey, she's certainly doing better than I am!

Overall: 4 stars

Amazon: Black Powder War

More reviews: Black Powder War on Librarything (Average 3.84 stars)

Black Powder War on Goodreads (Average 3.89 stars)

Gene Mapper - Taiyo Fujii

I've been making an effort to pick up one new release every month, and it's been coming up with some pretty great results. I hadn't heard of Taiyo Fujii before, but found his book Gene Mapper on an IO9 post on June releases. (Eventually, I'll get to reviewing them the same month they're released, but I digress.) Fujii is a Japanese author, and Gene Mapper is his debut novel, just released in English translation.

In the world of Gene Mapper, much of the world's natural crops have fallen to a blight called Red Rust, leading to a rise in genetically engineered foods. Mamoru Hayashida is a gene mapper who works for a company, L&B, developing Super Rice 6, or SR06. Only the field of SR06 that's been planted appears to have some sort of invader, which could spell trouble not only for L&B, or Mamoru's career, but genetically engineered (or in L&B's preferred nomenclature, genetically distilled) plants entirely. It's Mamoru's job, with the help of Takashi (a victim of a side effect of L&B's super rice zero), to figure out who and what the invader is and whether or not they can stop it. It's a high-tech mystery, a whodunit of virtual reality proportions.

I think it's the translation that hinder this book for me. It's as if something is being lost in going from Japanese to English, and I have a certain sense of being lost. I really like Fujii's concept of augmented reality, using AR stages for conversations and work and broadcasts and all kinds of things, but I don't really understand how it works. I can see someone entering an AR Stage and seeing the augmented reality, but what would someone not on any stage see them doing? They're talking and moving in their stage, sometimes having private conversations, and so wouldn't they be talking and moving in the real world as well? I guess I don't understand the privacy factor of that, just as an example. And again, I think this is partly due to the translation. The worldbuilding, while interesting, is not very clear in english, and more difficult to really engage with.

In another part of the book, Mamoru goes into the SR06 field wearing a special suit that has a weird kind of emotional control built in. The 'augmented reality' turns into a real hindrance, but that whole portion just makes no sense to me. I don't understand why they're wearing the suits in the first place--maybe to prevent contaminating the field, though I'm not sure with what, if the genetically distilled rice is supposed to be so stable--but also, I really don't understand why they would need or even want emotional control in the first place. That just makes no logical sense when you look at how it completely derailed Mamoru's mission. The only purpose I can see it serving is a plot point that reveals Takashi's true nature, which really, it needs to make sense on the surface as well as move the plot forward. Thumbs down.

I felt the ending to be a little forced. It reminds me of the theme of the movie Antitrust, where the culminating moment is the scrappy underdog releasing the corporate badguy's code to the world. Mamoru knows that revealing the engineered animals will prompt people around the world to create their own, but he can't let the 'nature guerrillas' get away with their plan to discredit genetically distilled rice with underhanded means. So he releases the entire code and user manual to the world, thinking hey, now everyone will do it right. I don't follow the logic, I guess. I mean, sure, you're giving those who would possibly do a bang-up job of replicating a bunch of engineered grasshoppers by themselves the tools to do it correctly, but just because someone has the tools doesn't mean they're not going to purposefully create something destructive. I appreciate the effort to create a more complex ending than everything-is-fixed, though. There probably wasn't any way they were going to come out of that situation with an entirely happy ending anyway, but it does feel as if that's the feeling that's trying to be pushed there--the code's out, everything's okay now. Resolution, in the context of fiction, does not have to be Solution. Not every problem in a story needs to be Fixed.

Overall though, if you don't mind feeling a little lost in a sea of buzzwords, it's not a bad read. I think a lot of other fantasy and scifi I've read has primed me to be okay with not necessarily understanding everything that's going on, though I like clarity more. It's a fun read on it's own, and high-concept, which is always nice. But somehow it also doesn't necessarily stand out to me. Not bad; but not necessarily great, either.

Overall: 3 stars

Amazon: Gene Mapper

More reviews: Gene Mapper on Librarything (average 3.5 stars)

Gene Mapper on Goodreads (average 4.0 stars)

Throne of Jade - Naomi Novik

In an attempt to get through old books (again) and give them away, I'm burning through the Temeraire series this month at a pretty consistent speed. Maybe it's because the other books I'm reading are just not very interesting, and I keep veering back to the fun reads! As helpful as craft books are, they're incredibly boring, let's admit. Sometimes you just want to shut your brain down a little bit and get lost in something fun.

Interesting cover variant.

In this, the second book of the series, Temeraire and Laurence are confronted by Chinese envoys who have heard of Britain's acquisition of a Celestial dragon. Yet again, we have authorities trying to separate the two, in a kind of star-crossed-lovers battle to stay together. Eventually it is agreed for the envoys, including a prince, Yongxing, to accompany Temeraire AND Laurence AND his crew back to China. Naturally the envoys still want to separate them, and naturally Temeraire and Laurence intend to resist. Once there the pair learns how differently dragons are treated in China, much to the disadvantage of Britain's coverts. Here we don't see dragons used as slaves to the British military cause, but treated as people in their own rights, able to travel the cities at will, purchase goods, or even starve. The price of freedom, one might say.

Here, too, Temeraire meets Lien, the albino Celestial and companion to Yongxing doomed to become the series' regular antagonist in future books. Interesting how her white color, the color of death, is seen as exceedingly unlucky, and after Yongxing's death her life pretty much falls apart because of it. You can't help but feel something for her, even as she seeks to return the damage on Temeraire. You can see how it comes from a place of hurt and anger, and so hats off to Novik for so deftly portraying that kind of turmoil, especially in a non-POV character.

 The sentence structure is often really clunky again, but that's something I want to address further with the next book, Black Powder War. Right now I'm focusing more on analyzing how to plot, with the idea that structure at a sentence level is something that is infinitely easier to teach than structure at a plot level. The Temeraire books are interesting in that, as far as external plot, there's not actually a whole lot of arc to get through. The first book was, essentially: Laurence meets Temeraire, they train, they fight some battles. What gave the book depth was exploring their relationship and that with the people around them. Here again, we find a relatively simple external plot. Laurence and Temeraire travel by ship to China, a few things happen along the way, they get to China, they meet Temeraire's family relations, there are attempts on Laurence's life, and then everything is resolved. It's not particularly complex, but it's the way that we explore this that makes this series work. I think this is owed to Novik's characterization ability (also something I want to work on in my own work) and her ability to lay out a believable historical setting with a draconic twist.

Overall it's a good read. I guess I can't claim it's revolutionary or literary gold or anything, but it's fun and entertaining, and pretty appropriate for a younger reader, too. It explores some philosophical issues in an interesting way, especially in this book, where we delve further into the subject of slavery, both human and dragon. Another issue it picks away at is class, though couched in terms of Chinese imperialism. An interesting way to talk about various issues of freedom and rights.

Overall: 3 stars

Amazon: Throne of Jade

More reviews: Throne of Jade on Librarything  (Average 3.83 stars)

Throne of Jade on Goodreads (Average 3.90 stars)

Monthly Roundup: June 2015

June was a pretty uneventful month, although I (finally) made my reading goal! Hooray! I got one rejection letter, though it was for a piece that I fully expected to be sent back, and the note with it was kind. They say that if an editor takes the time to compliment your writing personally, at least there was something of merit in it, even if it doesn't fit with their needs at the time. I've got a few ideas for how to restructure that piece anyway.

Otherwise I didn't really do much for writing this month, much to my shame. We're trying to fix up our house and that's really demanded a lot of attention lately, so we'll see how the rest of the summer plays out. We took out a couple overgrown lilacs and other trees, installed some new fixtures, built a new deck and a couple other small things to improve our poor, rotted house, at least until we disturbed a colony of biting ants and had to retreat. The garden is also getting into the stage where it's slightly lower maintenance (at least until things start being ready to harvest!) so July may go a little easier.

One highlight of my month is I did get a linkback from Nnedi Okorafor on her twitter. Call me a fangirl, but I enjoyed it!

What's happening in July? Writers conferences I'm not going to, for one. Writers Digest conference is July 31st, and the Midwest Writers Workshop starts the 23rd. I'm probably not going to get to another conference until I try for Writers in Paradise again next January - what with my job being up in the air and so many things demanding money at home, it's just hard to balance the stuff I want to do with the stuff I have to do: the ever-present struggle of adulthood. Plus there's this constant feeling that these big conferences and things are just not for me, the amateur with only a couple tiny magazines under her belt. These feel like they're for people who are more advanced than I in their writing careers. Of course, I also felt the same way about Writers in Paradise, and that turned out pretty spectacular, so I may be worrying over nothing. Still, it's hard to justify the fees for some of these events given that I'm not making anything back at the current time. I'd like to advance a little more in my skills and resume before investing heavily in workshops and conferences.

Non-writerly events for July include the Dragon Festival celebrating pan-Asian heritage and spirit, and what I originally read as a scottish festival but apparently is just music with a deceiving name. Hmph. Well, just wait till August when Ren Faire and the State Fair start up. Minnesota summertime traditions, that.

Going to be enjoying this all summer, yeeeaaahhh

His Majesty's Dragon - Naomi Novik

The Temeraire series is one I actually started a couple years back, but spotting Blood of Tyrants on the shelf at Half Price Books reminded me that I had forgotten to continue it once I caught up to (I think) Victory of Eagles. Naturally, I can't just pick up the unread books, though. My memory is so terrible that I barely remember what happened in previous books--a mixed blessing, shall we say, for though I have to remind myself of what-happened-when it does make for pleasant rereads. It's practically a new book! Ahem. Anyway, that meant that clearly, I had to restart back at the beginning. Luckily I still had most of the paperbacks still on my shelves, and they're such a quick read that it ain't no thing.

A not-particularly-accurate-to-text Temeraire. Todd Lockwood pretty much draws all dragons exactly the same.

So His Majesty's Dragon is the first book in the series, and opens with Captain Will Laurence capturing a French vessel during the Napoleonic Wars. By chance this vessel happens to be carrying a prized dragon egg, and it's close to hatching. England is so hard-up for aerial cavalry that they can't risk letting this dragon go wild, so it's up to the members of the crew to try and harness it, for the good of the nation. Naturally, it's Laurence himself who wins the prize, and his life is forever changed by the deep bond that grows between man and dragon. Laurence and Temeraire must face the prejudices of Navy, family, and Aerial Corps; rush through their training to help in the war; and learn how to navigate not only a new place in the world, but also the tricky political position of having acquired a priceless Chinese breed, which alone may be a grievous insult to the Emperor. 

Much of this book is devoted to establishing the relationship between the main pair, and to Laurence learning the differences between his old and new life. The incident that stands out the most, naturally, is that of Captain Rankin and his dragon Levitas. Laurence befriends him at first, I think grateful for anyone to show him the kindness of acquaintance, when so many aerial men treated him coldly as an interloper. But when Laurence meets poor little Levitas, the neglected and harshly-treated dragon that aches for a kind word, he doesn't make the connection between Levitas and the cold treatment of Rankin by the other aviators as well.

The way Novik portrays the dragons here are like hyper-intelligent dogs, in the sense that they seem to ache deeper than anything for the bond between them and their handlers. It's not as if Rankin, say, beats his partner, but he withholds all affection, and the way that Levitas responds is quite heartbreaking.

"Stay here quietly; I do not want to hear that you have been pestering the crew when I return," Ranking said sharply to Levitas, after dismounting; he threw the reins of his harness around a post, as if Levitas were a horse to be tethered. "You can eat when we return to Loch Laggan."
"I do not want to bother them, and I can wait to eat, but I am a little thirsty," Levitas said in a small voice. "I tried to fly as fast as I could," he added. 

I guess in this way I understand aviators like I understand dog people. Those of us who know the heartstring tug of a dog who only wants to be near you, touch you, be with you; know the same affection that flows from these dragons. I compare this kind of bond to the kind we see in, say, McCaffrey's Pern series. The dragons there are, too, separate beings, and extremely intelligent; but they also share a kind of telepathic bond, and I think the line between human and dragon gets blurred a lot. Which is not a terrible concept, but by this point (McCaffrey began writing Pern in 1967) we've seen a LOT of telepathic dragons, and it's getting a little worn. In Novik's series we spend a lot more time exploring the social effects of dragons existing: can you consider them human? Beast? Somewhere in between? Where is the line drawn? What rights do dragons inherently have? Can you very well keep them in essential slavery if you consider them sentient?

Novik's worldbuilding here also heavily reminds me of Kim Stanley Robinson's The Years of Rice and Salt. In that book, Robinson theorizes about what the world would be like the black plague had killed off nearly all of Europe's population, leaving China and Islam as the major world powers. You can tell that a lot of thought went into the building of this alternate history, thinking of how that gap in European power would lead to this effect, to this effect, and so on and so forth. Novik, similarly, has obviously placed a lot of thought into what the world would be like with these dragons as transport and weapons. In this way it's as much the setting that fascinates as the plot itself, which, I'll be entirely honest, isn't particularly mind-blowing or anything. But it's comfortable, like a warm fireplace on a rainy day. It doesn't have to excite to be pleasant.

All in all I do really enjoy this series, and while I have a tendency to do rereads of whole series every couple years (coughGameofThronescough) once the last book is out (slated 2016) I'll probably retire it in favor of new reads.

Overall: 4 stars

Amazon: His Majesty's Dragon

More reviews: His Majesty's Dragon on Librarything (Average 4.1 stars)

His Majesty's Dragon on Goodreads (Average 4.04 stars)

Serena - Ron Rash

I first heard about Serena via the movie with Jennifer Lawrence and Bradley Cooper. While I haven't yet gotten to see it--partly because it was apparently so poorly received that it skipped theaters entirely? Was it that bad--it did inspire me to pick up the original story that the movie was based on, by Ron Rash.

Now I don't know if this pair just really likes working together or what, but that aside, JLaw is a really odd casting choice in this for me. She always looks like she's kind of confused, or sad, or both, at any given time, and after getting to know Serena in this story I really expected her to look more coldly distantly beautiful. That said, I haven't seen her performance, so maybe she pulls it off just fine. Or maybe she doesn't, and that's why it tanked. I don't know.

Being the titular character, Serena is obviously who this story is really about. And I love her. She comes into my life at a time when I question our cultural insistence on women being likable and friendly and always accomodating, when I struggle with being authentic and standing up for my own rights. I've always been a kind of difficult person, and I pride myself on that, even when it creates difficulties in my life. Serena is raw in that way, but to a desperate extreme. She's an extremely hard, no-fucks-given I-get-mine kind of woman, and she will not tolerate disrespect of any kind, but especially that based on her gender. By all rights, you're not supposed to like her, but that's why I do. It's not often I get to see a real unlikeable female character that has such strength and drive, in a way that's more often attributed to male characters.

But naturally, Serena doesn't reach a balance in her life. Even as I admire her, I see how she will lead herself to disaster. Even given a drive for authenticity, I see the necessity of working within the confines of the culture one lives in. Serena and Pemberton run their logging camp with a hard hand, and as people pop up in their way, they kill or have them killed. They grow drunk on their own power and importance. Serena gets pregnant, miscarries--in part thanks to the buffoonery of the camp doctor--and tries to kill Pemberton's ex-lover Rachel in order to steal her child, but Rachel escapes to the West Coast with some money that Pemberton secretly has sent to her. Serena finds out, and ends up having Pemberton poisoned and left for dead as well. You don't cross Serena. The miscarriage is really like the turning point in her mental state: before it seemed she had a modicum of self restraint; after it was deaths galore. She trots off to Brazil to pursue her dream of chopping down all the Brazilian forests and becoming filthy, filthy rich.

Ultimately I think this story follows the traditional arc of the tragedy: everyone ends up sad and/or dead by the end of the book. The only people who got out in one piece is Rachel, and her illegitimate son by Pemberton. Serena gets the life she wants, sort of, but even that ends in murder.

Overall I found this story to be really enjoyable, in a dark, twisted emotional kind of way. Some of the characters maybe weren't as well-rounded as I would have liked (Rachel is very much the tormented angel, for example) and the use of loggers as a kind of chorus was an odd if interesting choice, but I enjoyed the general flow of the story.

Overall: 4 stars

Amazon: Serena

More reviews: Serena on Librarything (Average 3.71 stars)

Serena on Goodreads (Average 3.55 stars)

Mistborn: The Final Empire - Brandon Sanderson

I bought this book, based on a Librarything recommendation, as an Audible audiobook. It was perhaps a big mistake.

I'll preface this post by saying this is possibly the first non-review review I'll do, because unlike that time I tried to read Martin Chuzzlewit and subsequently forgot why I like reading in the first place, I'm not going to waste an entire month trying to get through something this bad.

First of all, the narrator, one Michael Kramer, sounds bored to tears. Just listening to his voice makes my mind wander. I tried listening to this book twice, and both times, I got about a half hour through it before I realized I had no idea what was going on, no idea who the characters were, and no idea what they were talking about. Worse yet, I didn't care. What I did catch was such typical fantasy that I'm surprised this book was published in 2006 and not 1990. The thought of trying to get through 24+ hours of this audiobook makes me want to drive into oncoming traffic--and there's six more books in the series. Oh God.

In short, there's no shame in giving up on a book. This book is not for me, and makes me really appreciate Audible's return policy.

Overall: 1 star

Amazon: Mistborn

More reviews: Mistborn on Librarything (Average 4.27 stars) (really?)

Mistborn on Goodreads (Average 4.40 stars) (really??)

Et tu, Robin Hobb?

Uprooted - Naomi Novik

The second of my May new releases is Uprooted - yes, I'm still behind. The eternal state, it seems. Although I just received my preorder for my June release, so hopefully I can start that next, and get back on track.

US cover still the best cover.

Uprooted is a fairy tale at it's heart, and although still European-based, I can't fault it for that given the specificity with which Novik writes. I talked previously about a boredom with your typical Medieval-England based white fantasy, but Novik skirts these issues by drawing from Polish folklore and naming conventions. It makes it feel sufficiently "new" that it doesn't immediately ping my trope-dar, though I'll admit, I went into the story with reservations. I think Novik deliberately plays with our expectations of a fairy tale, starting with an unexpected heroine being chosen as a sacrifice to the Dragon. But as the story unravels it gets fuller, and richer, and much more enjoyable. The Dragon is really a wizard who lives in a tower near their villages, keeping watch over the mysterious Wood. The Wood itself is a central character and the primary villain, a mysterious and malevolent forest that steals villagers and corrupts them, sometimes sending them back to wreak havoc on the human world. Agnieszka is chosen as the 'sacrifice', a valley girl that the Dragon finds has an aptitude for magic, and she learns about her own power and how she can use it and work with the other wizards to save her friend Kasia, her valley, and even the entire kingdom.

I'm not wild about the romantic subplot between Agnieszka and the Dragon given their extreme age difference (hundred+ years yo) and their teacher-student power dynamic. I get that part of their story is overcoming that dynamic to emerge as peers, but it still leaves me with a squicky taste, especially when you add the trope of "woman fixes broken man and teaches him to love again". It works just fine for some people--just not my cup of tea. I think this book could have accomplished its goal without the romance at all, which would alleviate many fans' discomfort with their uncomfortable relationship.

I really like, however, the character of Kasia. Originally everyone thought she would be the girl that the Dragon chose--the prettiest, most graceful, most accomplished of all the Dragon-born girls. She prepared her whole life to leave her home to go to the tower, and by consequence her parents never really opened up to her in the same way they did to their other children, and it's no wonder that some resentment took root there. When she wasn't chosen, it was both a relief and a disappointment: what was she to do now? But the way Kasia ends up this brilliant, fierce, indestructible warrior woman--well, I just like that in a fairy tale. She's strong without resorting to being an unlikeable character. She only has to learn how to use her new strength and invulnerability to become a fearsome fighter.

Yet again, this is another new release where I've heard word of being optioned for film right away. So hooray! I wonder, though, if Novik isn't holding her breath, what with the Temeraire film 10 years in the making with no progress. Fantasy is an awfully big market for Hollywood right now, and they seem to be grabbing onto any book adaptation they can: I just want someone to follow through and actually make them into good films that deserve the same title.

Overall, I enjoyed this book a lot. Novik's writing style is unobtrusive and flows well, and I especially enjoy how she articulates things that are hard to articulate, like how Agnieszka uses her magic. It's all very vague, but it still has a certain internal logic, and it works very well in this book. I would not recommend this book for children, despite the fairy tale label, what with the sex scene and all. But it could fly for YA and any adult fantasy lover just fine.

He spent the next hour interrogating me as to every particular of how I had cast the spell, growing ever more upset: I could scarcely answer any of his questions. He wanted exact syllables and repetitions, he wanted to know how close I had been to his arm, he wanted the number of rosemary twigs and the number of peels. I did my best to tell him, but I felt even as I did so that it was all wrong, and finally I blurted out, as he wrote angrily on his sheets, "But none of that matters at all." His head raised to stare balefully at me, but I said, incoherent yet convinced, "It's just--a way to go. There's ins't only one way to go." I waved at his notes. "You're trying to find a road where there isn't one. It's like--it's gleaning in the woods," I said abruptly. "You have to pick your way through the thickets and the trees, and it's different every time."

Overall: 5 stars

Amazon: Uprooted

More reviews: Uprooted on Librarything (Average 4.29 stars)

Uprooted on Goodreads (Average 4.32 stars)

Red Seas Under Red Skies - Scott Lynch

I feel like a real theme of my reading choices lately are those with film or television adaptations. As I finish the second book of Scott Lynch's Gentleman Bastards series, I find out that the first was optioned by Warner Brothers all the way back in 2006. Whatever happened? Where's the promised adaptation? Same thing happened with Naomi Novik's Temeraire series. Peter Jackson picked up the rights nearly a decade ago now, and nothing's ever come of it. Stop playing with my heart, Hollywood. It's cruel to tease me this way.

Sometimes I just want to find some cool art to include to break up a wall of text.

Red Seas Under Red Skies picks up where The Lies of Locke Lamora left off, with Jean and Locke fleeing the city of Camorr (As always, forgive any errs in spelling, as I only know these names phonetically!). There's a lot of emotional fallout for the pair to deal with, but eventually they pick up their games again in Tal Verrar. Naturally, as is the case with the stories of Locke Lamora, everything falls to shit when someone decides to start messing with their lives. The Archon of Tal Verrar tricks the pair into drinking a poison that places them in his power, and they must do his bidding for him to give them the antidote to keep the poison at bay every eight weeks. Locke takes on the new identity of a rogue ship captain--I cannot find the spelling to save my life--and 'steals' one of the Archon's ships (with the Archon's blessing, obvs), with the goal of hazing Tal Verrar and forcing the people of the city to turn to the Archon for protection. But--surprise!--their plan falls to shit too. These books are like the definition of putting your characters up trees and throwing rocks at them.

Like the first book, I listened to this as an audiobook from Audible. Again, the narrator is great, but I find that Lynch's intricate timeline braiding limits this book's effectiveness as an audiobook: I got lost a lot. We jump around between various points in time--from Locke's depression after leaving Camorr, to a stint in a town centered around a brutal slave fighting game, to their current time in Tal Verrar and on the Sea of Brass. I suspect that had I been reading the book the delineations between times would be clearer. As much as I like the technique of plot braiding, this might be a caution against getting too complex.

Back to the concept of throwing rocks at your characters: Lynch gives poor Jean Tannen a scant few weeks of happiness in love before cruelly ripping it away when Ezri dies most dramatically. Now, the husband and I have a terrible habit of coming up with 'corrections' to plots that we think would make them better, and I'm going to indulge myself here. This part of the plot feels really hokey to me, in a "we end the book exactly where we started" kind of way. You know how (bad) sitcoms wrap up that week's storyline by the end of the show in a nicely contained box that doesn't effect any other episode's continuity? It's dissatisfying because it feels like the characters aren't really changing.

So I put this idea forth that, if someone had to die, why not Jean himself? I feel like there was a huge opportunity there for an interesting dynamic. Ezri was a really fascinating character--a daughter of nobility who ran off to become a pirate, a damn good fighter, and angry. I have a huge soft spot for angry women characters. Both Ezri and Locke deeply love Jean (yes, in different ways, doesn't change the depth) and, say, if Jean had made them both promise to watch out for the other, because he saw the depths of depression Locke went into when the rest of their brothers were killed, etc. we could have found this really fascinating dynamic of a pair continuing their game while simultaneously despising each other. Each would be the other's only link to Jean, and therefore a kind of bittersweet partner that they might cling to despite the pain and irritation. A mutual respect could grow of that. And, I'll admit, I would enjoy messing with anyone's automatic expectation that they should become romantically involved, because I could see both characters answering "What? Ew, no!" if the question were raised.

But that's not what happened, so eh. Kill your darlings, I say. Don't let your love for a character keep them around when it would be a better plot choice to dump them.

The other plot point I wondered about was Stragos' poison. I had this inkling early on that the poison was a red herring, but it never came to fruit. What if there was no poison at all? Locke makes his living on deceiving people with words and actions, wouldn't it be nice to see the same played on him? I kept waiting for the end reveal, especially after the alchemist was killed and no more antidotes were to be had, but we ended on this cliffhanger of "will Locke die?" Well, obviously we know he won't die, it's his series. So maybe that is the reveal and it'll happen in the next book, but it would have been a fun moment for a reader if it had actually been revealed.

I feel like I really could keep on talking about this book for ages, but I'll wrap it up with a note on Lynch's dialogue. I like swearing. I like swearing a lot. So I really enjoy reading a book where the swearing is natural and fits in context, and honestly, it makes Lynch's dialogue pretty funny and on point. As a whole I think he's pretty great at dialogue, with or without swearing, because the quips always make me laugh. On a whole, though, this book suffers from pacing. It felt like the longest audiobook of my life.

"I also do a brisk trade in putting knives to peoples throats and shouting at them."

Jean grinned down at her, and she handed him something in a small silk bag.
"What's this?"
"Lock of my hair," she said. "Meant to give it to you days ago, but we got busy with all the raiding. You know. Piracy. Hectic life."
"Thank you, love," he said.
"Now, if you find yourself in trouble wherever you go, you can hold up that little bag to whoever's bothering you, and you can say, 'You have no idea who you're fucking with. I'm under the protection of the lady who gave me this object of her favour.'"
"And that's supposed to make them stop?"
"Shit no, that's just to confuse them. Then you kill them while they're standing there looking at you funny."

Overall: 3.5 stars

Amazon: Red Seas Under Red Skies

More reviews: Red Seas Under Red Skies on Librarything (Average 4.05 stars)

Red Seas Under Red Skies on Goodreads (Average 4.22 stars)

The Book of Phoenix - Nnedi Okorafor

The internet-o-sphere has been abuzz lately about diversity in fantasy and science fiction. It's a valid concern for sure: for over a century both genres have been dominated by white men, and the worlds they create reflect not only their time but their culture. How many fantasy stories are based on medieval Europe and all that goes along with that, including subjugation of women, feudal/monarchy systems of government and absence/tokenism of minorities? It stands to reason that if we approach these genres from outside of that perspective, we'll get new, fresh, incredibly interesting worlds that may resonate with readers who have never been able to see themselves in these traditional narratives.

Nnedi Okorafor is an outspoken proponent of fantasy diversity, and her books work to fill that void as well. Previously I was introduced to her post-apocalyptic African-based book Who Fears Death via a college course, but I realized I had a copy of her short story collection Kabu Kabu on my shelf already. And once I got into them? I was hooked. This is a fantasy I hadn't seen before.

Great art, too.

The Book of Phoenix, released this May, is a prequel to Who Fears Death. We listen to the story of Phoenix Okore, a genetically engineered woman who burns like a sun and rises from her ashes. She escapes from the tower where she's been contained for the first few years of her life (she ages dramatically fast, and is only three for the majority of the book, though she appears around 40) and, over the course of the book, discovers more about what the people who kept her captive have done to her, her birth mother, her genetic siblings, and her friends and lover, all of whom are of African descent. It's a kind of 'let my people go' quest, only Phoenix holds nothing back. She's willing to destroy everything to achieve justice.

Okorafor's worldbuilding is always a pleasure. I really enjoyed how she tied this story, not only to Who Fears Death but also to one of her short stories, Spider the Artist (which, incidentally, can be read online at Lightspeed Magazine). The anansi droids, spider-like robots, guard the Nigerian oil lines, but become too dangerous to be around people. In The Book of Phoenix, they're spotted by Phoenix swimming through the ocean, having left Nigeria. We don't know their exact intentions, but it's certainly ominous. Are they looking for more humans to kill? Are these machines programmed to hate the human race? It's a small commentary on how AI has the potential to get away from us. You can also see how these droids, and the atrocities committed by the Big Eye towers, could contribute to a mythology in Who Fears Death where humans were punished for their technological sins.

In fact, that's really the basis of the story. The Book of Phoenix is constructing the mythology of the Great Book in Who Fears Death. It's all very interconnected, and fascinating for that.

It's something to note, too, exactly how important race is to this story. I think a lot of fantasy and science fiction, when attempting to be diverse, makes race incidental to the character. And in some settings, that could make perfect sense. A fantasy world without out our particular societal baggage, I could see skin color being incidental to a character's personality. But in many others, it seems like either a mistake or a missed opportunity. Our race--though a construct created entirely by our perceptions--does have an effect on who we are. We can see that effect in the Book of Phoenix, in every African character, that their heritage is an integral part of the character and shapes how they move and talk and react and even how they see each other and how others see them. This is what I mean when I say making race incidental is a missed opportunity: there's an extra dimension to these characters because of how they interact with the world, influenced by their race.

I think this can be something hard for white authors to understand. Is this what leads authors to make entirely white casts? Or, sometimes, token characters with racial signifiers, that maybe have no bearing on the character's development? White authors certainly CAN write characters of color effectively, but I think it takes a level of commitment to writing authentically and trying to understand the experiences of someone not like yourself. But ultimately, I think it's going to be most important to continue to push for diversity in publishing, in race and sexual identity and ability. Those are the authors that are going to be giving us the deepest truths about these experiences. I say this as a white author who, still, will try to find my own place in the industry and do my best to contribute to the solutions, not the problems.

As always, your mileage may vary. All I can say is I like the focus that #weneeddiversebooks is getting, and I hope that it continues.

"Phoenix," she said. Hearing my name come from her lips made me feel stronger. "I birthed you all on my lonesome. They cleared out soon as I was in labor. They left me in that building, talked to me by portable. They were sure you'd blow up...or something. But you came out alive, eyes all open. Glowing like a little sun--orange under ebony brown. Brownest newborn I ever saw. I held you." She shut her eyes and she held my hand. She opened her eyes and looked intensely into mine. "I held you. They come back when they knew it was safe. Took you from me! They'd promised me I could raise you! That you'd be mine." She breathed heavily, wheezing and coughing.
"Easy," I whispered, patting her on the back.
"They classified you as a 'dangerous non-human person'. That's how they justified taking you from me like that. But then, what's that make me?" She coughed again, weaker. "Phoenix, give 'em hell. You hear me girl? Give 'em hell."

Overall: 5 stars

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The Giver - Lois Lowry

I've been digging into books from my childhood again lately, to mixed success. Some failed miserably to live up to my memories (Redwall, Pern, among others), but others, the ones that I think are truly remarkable, hold up well. The Giver is a great example of that. Though maybe better known to today's audiences as a exceedingly subpar movie adaptation, Lowry's original book was published in 1993 and was awarded multiple honors, including the 1994 Newberry Medal.

Hollywood always gotta insert romance into a story that doesn't have one and doesn't NEED one.

The Giver was perhaps dystopian fiction before dystopian fiction became a thing. It takes place in an implied future, where every aspect of life as we know it today has been changed: hills don't exist, because they interfered with shipping and travel. Weather doesn't exist, because it interferes with the efficiencies of life. Sunlight doesn't exist. Color doesn't exist. Everyone is herded through early life in groups according to their birthyear, and they explore the same milestones together, learning about interdependence and the importance of community cohesiveness. Careers are assigned to them based on their aptitudes, spouses are assigned based on compatibility. Sex doesn't exist, children are born by birthmothers and assigned to family units. Rules are paramount. Rules are what keeps the community existing.

Enter Jonas, who approaches his twelfth year ceremony with apprehension, the year everyone gets their career assignments. The community is shocked when he is assigned to be the Receiver of Memory. Jonas learns about how the previous Receiver, now the Giver, holds the memories of the time before, meant to remember all the hardships that all these extraneous things brought them, and advise the community when questions arise that would bring the state of their community into jeopardy.

 I wouldn't say it's an overly complicated plot or anything, and yes, we see this idea of sameness=bad, freedom to make our choices=good, etc. in other works, but I think it's important to consider first, the time that this was published, and second, the audience. This book came out before our latest glut of science fiction and dystopian young adult works, so really, a lot of the work we're seeing now is really sampling from what Lowry wrote. For example, Divergent uses the same trope of "This categorizing isn't LIVING! Freeeeeedooooom!" -- only executed a lot poorer. But also, this is children's fiction, possibly middle grade by today's publishing standards. You don't want a middle grade book to be TOO far above the audience's heads, which this book is not. The writing is easy to understand and digest.What makes Lowry's writing so much higher quality is the fact that while easy to understand, it's still challenging for that age group, and really gives them something to think about in terms of what they might want society to look like in the future

There's not a whole lot I can take away from this from a technical standpoint, because I don't think that middle grade will be my genre of choice, but I like having the example of what's appropriate for that age group. If that was something I wanted to explore at some point, The Giver would certainly be a decent example to emulate, as far as word choice and sentence structure.

One thing I found interesting is how Lowry emphasized the characters that have distinctively light-colored eyes: Jonas, the Giver, and the previous Receiver all do; as well as Gabe, the newchild that Jonas's family is caring for. There's also a female Six that Jonas mentions has the same eyes. They mention that the Birthmothers only bear three children in three years and then retire, so it's not possible that all there could have the same birthmother, but I do wonder if they're related somehow. It makes it seem like the ability to give and receive these memories (which Gabe can also do) is somehow related to their genetics. Perhaps the community has a store of sperm? I wonder how they would replenish that supply, given that every male in the community takes the pills that remove all sexual desire?

Additionally, it's never really explained how the memories 'escape' and return to the community. When Rosemary was released/died, her memories just flew out and everyone had a piece of them. It's heavily implied that Jonas and Gabe die, but they make it seem as if they believe just leaving the community will release those memories back. How does that work? They pass some special line on the ground and lose those memories? It's not like there aren't other communities in the world, they specifically mention groups of visiting children from Elsewhere. I guess I just wonder at some of the logistics of this world that Lowry didn't explore, because from an adult perspective it doesn't necessarily make sense. Which isn't the point of the book at all, so it's okay to not explore that--I'm just that kind of annoying reader, I guess.

Incidentally, I have only now learned, twenty years later, that there's a Giver series and now I must read the others. Maybe my questions will be answered!

"But now that I can see colors, at least sometimes, I was just thinking: What if we could hold up things that were bright red, or bright yellow, and he could choose? Instead of the Sameness."
"He might make wrong choices."
"Oh." Jonas was silent for a minute. "Oh, I see what you mean. It wouldn't matter for a newchild's toy. But later it does matter, doesn't it? We don't dare to let people make choices of their own."
"Not safe?" The Giver suggested.
"Definitely not safe," Jonas said with certainty. "What if they were allowed to choose their own mate? And chose wrong?"Or what if," he went on, almost laughing at the absurdity, "they chose their own jobs?"
"Frightening, isn't it?" The Giver said.
Jonas chuckled. "Very frightening. I can't even imagine it. We really have to protect people from wrong choices."
"It's safer."
"Yes," Jonas agreed. "Much safer."
But when the conversation turned to other things, Jonas was left, still, with a feeling of frustration that he didn't understand.

 Overall: 5 stars

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A Breath of Snow and Ashes - Diana Gabaldon

The second half of Outlander season 1 winds to a close--really, Starz did a pretty tidy job of containing an entire book in one season. They cut away exactly the right amount of material to make it work. The second season is already planned, based on Dragonfly in Amber, the second book.

Never have I loathed a character as much as Jack Randall. Can't wait till we see him again.

I'm way ahead, though: Breath of Snow and Ashes is the sixth book in the series that I'm just finishing up. It's been a long time since any of the main characters have seen Scotland. The focus is still primarily on Fraser's Ridge, much like the previous book. The number of residents of the ridge have steadily grown larger, especially after a number of new tenants from Scotland move in. Naturally, the new tenants are protestant, and see the Catholic Jamie as nothing short of the devil, but a protestant by the name of Tom Christie and Jamie's son-in-law Roger help bridge the gap as much as possible. Galbadon continues to emphasize the danger inherent in this time period, what with the war rapidly approaching and roaming bands of men who attack Claire and Marsali when they're out alone. Claire is kidnapped, beaten and raped--at least, until Jamie (et al) comes to save her.

There's an awful lot of rape in these books, I have to say. On the one hand, it's plausible that there really would be this constant threat to women in this time, what with being pretty much defenseless and property and all. But on the other hand, it seems we can't go more than ten chapters without somebody being at least threatened with rape. It's starting to feel like a repetitive and slightly cheap way to drive up the tension. At least it's equal-opportunity rape (what with Jamie and Randall), but still.

So, partly because Claire used her reputation as a witch/healer to fend off the men of this dangerous band, and partly because of her actual healing skill and refusal to conform to many standards of the time (no cap please!) the residents of the ridge begin to regard her as a devil woman. When Marsali's next child is born a dwarf tensions just run higher, because clearly, that's the devil's work right there. The McGillivray's start to shun Claire when she informs them that their son Manfred has syphilis (the pox), and they shame her for slander. Then Malva Christie--who Claire regarded as her protege--names Jamie the father of her unborn child and is later found murdered in Claire's arms, after Claire attempted to cut her child from her dead body (obviously she didn't murder her, but that's not how most of their people see it).

Basically, bad luck and modern decisions keep getting Claire in a world of hurt, and Jamie has to keep hunting her down to save her. When we're not saving Claire, we're saving Brianna, kidnapped by Stephen Bonnet. Again, I feel that I can possibly chalk this up to the time period, but after six books it gets a little old with all the your-princess-is-in-another-castle and here-comes-the-rape-train. While I still like the series (and $5/book for kindle makes it easy to keep going) it's not quite got that same hook into my heart that the first book did.

Writing-wise, we're seeing a lot of the meandering plotline that we saw in the previous books. I still think this is an interesting tactic, where you literally cannot sum up the plot in a sentence. It's more this-happens-then-this-which-leads-to-this than it is one central question. At the Writers in Paradise conference we talked about the concept of a central narrative question, and how it strengthens writing. The pieces that did the best in our workshop were the pieces that had a very strong question, and Mr. Watson emphasized that the strongest is phrased as: Will Character1 Blank Character2?

Now, a short story will probably only have one question, or one large question and a few small ones. But a novel might have one really big question (for example re: Outlander book 1, will Claire stay with Jamie?), it's got to have a metric ton of smaller questions of varying sizes. This series interests me because it doesn't have one central question for many of these books, but a series of plotlines weaving in and around each other. We might say that the main unifying plotline in this book is the degeneration of the Fraser's standing among the families of the ridge as war approaches, but there's many smaller plotlines woven together around it that contribute to their downfall. So it's difficult to summarize this book accurately and I like that. It indicates a level of complexity that's very intriguing.

So I guess it shows that, done right, you can actually avoid that central question, but it's still something to keep in mind for us newer writers. Like the rules of grammar and punctuation, maybe you should know how to use them properly before you start disregarding them.

“Couldn’t be simpler,” I assured him. “I do a process called fecal sedimentation to concentrate the stool, then look for the eggs under the microscope.”
He nodded, plainly not following. I smiled kindly at him.
 “All you have to do, Bobby, is shit.”
His face was a study in doubt and apprehension.
“If it’s all the same to you, mum,” he said, “I think I’ll keep the worms.”

Real danger had its own taste, vivid as lemon juice, by contrast with the weak lemonade of imagination.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Fraser,” she whispered, tears trembling becomingly on her lashes. “He— we— we didna mean to hurt ye.”
I watched with interest from somewhere outside my body, as my arm lifted and drew back, and felt a sense of vague approval as my hand struck her cheek with enough force that she stumbled backward, tripped over a stool, and fell, her petticoats tumbled up to her waist in a froth of linen, wool- stockinged legs sticking absurdly up in the air.
“Can’t say the same, I’m afraid.” I hadn’t even thought of saying anything, and was surprised to feel the words in my mouth, cool and round as river stones.

Overall: 4 stars

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