Red Headed Femme

Photo of the Day

2020-11-30T02:54:46Z

Saw this on my walk today.

This is (I believe) a greater roadrunner, or Geococcyx californianus.

(Took the picture with my Galaxy Note 5 and cropped it with Google Photo. It didn't turn out half bad.)

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PHOTO!!

2020-10-25T03:16:00Z

Well, crap. Can I actually upload an image? Or copy paste, I guess. At any rate, this is my cat, sprawled out on the carpet.

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Spring Has Sprung!

2020-05-23T21:00:55Z

Seen on my walk today. Even the cacti are feeling good. (Description: Cacti in gravelled front yard with fuschia flowers.)

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"The fiery trial through which we pass will light us down in honor"

2019-08-02T02:00:02Z

Review: Honor Bound, by Rachel Caine and Ann Aguirre

This is the sequel to last year's Honor Among Thieves, and suffers somewhat from being the second book of a trilogy. The author dives right into the story with little or no infodumping and recapping, and if you aren't already familiar with the worldbuilding and characters, you're going to be pretty confused. That said, I really liked how the authors expand both their characterizations and world, and how they raise the stakes.

And wow, are they ever raised. An ancient Lovecraftian evil returns to life in this book, and our sentient living spaceship Nadim and his crew, including our protagonist Zara Cole, are thrown into a battle to determine the fate of the galaxy. Along the way, Zara grows as a character, coming into her own as a leader and working out some of the kinks in her relationship with Nadim. (As far as "kinks" go, the authors hint at a possible polyamorous triad with the three main characters, which is pretty far out there for a young adult book. One wonders how far the final volume in the trilogy will take this.)

One knock a reader might have with this book is the massive cliffhanger ending, breaking off on the verge of a huge battle. This final scene is very well written, and definitely whets the reader's appetite for the concluding book. If you don't like that kind of thing, though, this ending will drive you nuts.

For me, this book's many pluses outweigh the few minuses, and I can't wait for the next book.

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"Nothing is as far away as one minute ago"

2019-07-06T04:10:41Z

Review: "Permafrost," by Alastair Reynolds

I think time travel stories are among the hardest to write well, simply because it's all too easy to get bogged down in illogical paradox loopiness. This is among the better ones I've read recently, and it's definitely not perfect. Mainly because the global event that sets it off, if you stop to think about it, is so grim and hopeless I wondered why these people were even bothering. (And also because I highly doubt the event as described would cause such a shattering planetwide catastrophe in such a short period of time. Even the end-Permian extinction, the most severe of Earth's five major extinction events, took place, at a minimum, over hundreds of thousands of years.) I'm sure a great many of them would have just quietly committed suicide rather than face the struggle of trying to live on a planet scoured of nearly all life.

That's neither here nor there, I suppose, although it shows you can't ponder this novella's worldbuilding very much. This definitely gets a one-star dinging from me. On the plus side, the time travel mechanism seems fresh--at least I don't remember reading a mechanism quite like it (although I'm sure there has been). These time travelers are not the people themselves, but rather their consciousness, moving up and down the time stream. There's a lot of high-level quantum physics in this book. The author makes a decent stab at explaining it, but after a while I just substituted the words "Luba Pairs" with "woo-woo," because that was about how well I understood it, and thought, "Just get on with the story."

In this case, the story has to be paid close attention to. The structure of this novella is very much like the time travel shenanigans the author is describing--definitely non-linear, bouncing back and forth between 2028 and 2080, doubling and tripling back on itself. As we come to find out, the time stream can be manipulated, and indeed the protagonist ends up being forced to do so. This contributes to the feel of the story's being rushed; indeed, there are almost too many ideas and concepts here for a novella length. The mission starts to come apart as time paradox creeps in, and one incident in particular, about the middle of the book, gives the reader a horrifying jolt that snaps you back to the very beginning, making you re-evaluate the story. As it was meant to.

I liked this well enough, but I would have liked to spend more time with the two main characters, Valentina and Tatiana. I also would have liked the overall situation to not be quite so hopeless, which no doubt contributed to the rather abrupt ending, as the author seemed to have written himself into a corner. This was readable and interesting, but flawed.

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"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic"

2019-07-06T03:57:54Z

Review: "Hexarchate Stories," by Yoon Ha Lee

Yoon Ha Lee is the author of the Machineries of Empire trilogy, a far-flung space opera where the technology might as well be (and might be) magic. His books are some of my favorites of the past few years. This story collection fleshes out the world and our two main characters, Shuos Jedao and Kel Cheris.

I would say this book is definitely for those already familiar with the previous novels--I think it would be very hard to dive into this uninitiated. (Anyway, the trilogy is excellent and y'all should be reading it already.) A lot of these stories are short flash pieces from the author's blog, and while the quality of these may be a bit uneven, the Author's Notes justify their inclusion here. The two reprints, "Extracurricular Activities" and "The Battle of Candle Arc," are essential for understanding the hexarchate universe.

The crown jewel of this collection, which alone makes it worth the price of admission, is the closing brand-new novella, "Glass Cannon." Taking up the story of Jedao and Cheris two years after the trilogy's final book, Revenant Gun, this deals with the revelations of that book in particular and the themes of the series as a whole, as well as lobbing a strategically placed bomb into the status quo. I don't know if Yoon Ha Lee intends to write more novels in this universe, but this would provide a terrific jumping-off point.

In sum: This is a very good collection, well worth your money. If it leads to picking up the Machineries of Empire trilogy (and it should), so much the better.

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"The sword will cut you down; it will consume you as the locust"

2019-07-06T03:46:57Z

Review: "Storm of Locusts," by Rebecca Roanhorse

This is the sequel to last year's Trail of Lightning, and in reading this book, you can clearly see Roanhorse's improvement as a writer. The prose is smoother, the pacing better, the characterizations sharper. The protagonist in particular shows notable character development. In the first book, Maggie was a broken, depressed, bad-tempered misanthrope struggling with PTSD who trusted no one and just wanted to be left alone to kill as many monsters as possible. In this book, she has made up her mind to try not to kill, and she is slowly learning to open up, to trust, and ask for and accept help. She begins to assemble her own little collection of friends and allies, people who have her back, and it's gratifying to watch.

This book also opens up the world, as Maggie's quest takes her beyond the borders of her magical land of Dinetah. After the Big Water, the author's name for her future climate change apocalypse and governmental collapse, the outside world is rather reminiscent of the lawless Australian outback of Mad Max: Fury Road. The villain this time around is the creepy and shudder-inducing White Locust, and if you have any kind of phobia about insects, let me assure you this book will not give you a restful sleep.

New characters this time around include Ben, a sixteen-year-old girl just come into her clan powers who Maggie sort-of reluctantly adopts. Ben is adorable, and I hope we see more of her going forward. The book ends with the White Locust defeated and this particular storyline wrapped up, but there is a coda involving the villain of the first book that promises all sorts of trouble for Maggie in the next. Given the steps forward taken by the author in this book, I'm looking forward to it.

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Hugo Reading 2019: "Black Panther: Long Live the King"

2019-06-23T23:27:42Z

I've only gotten into graphic novels in the past few years. (I say this because that's what I buy almost exclusively, with the only exception the individual issues of "Bitch Planet" because of the extra material.) Ta-Nehisi Coates' run on Black Panther is, of course, one of the highlights of my collection. I also admire Nnedi Okorafor's work. Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to be a good fit for Black Panther, at least based on this.

The story of T'Challa going up against "sentient vibranium" (the first 3 issues of this collection) is just so-so. I do like the concept of "mute zones" that hack themselves off the Wakanda grid as part of a protest against the Wakandan monarchy. The second story (not by Okorafor), "Keep Your Friends Close," brings in T'Challa's sister Shuri (always welcome) and a resurrected M'Baku. That was okay, but not outstanding.

However, the third story, Nnedi Okorafor's "Under the Bridge," was worth the price of admission. This story of Ngozi, the interim Black Panther and Venom/Panther hybrid, touches on how mutants are treated in Nigeria in the Marvelverse. The protagonist is in a wheelchair and her Venom symbiote is, at varying points in the narrative, a many-fanged bipedal dragonfly and full-fledged raging dragon, ready to kill until Ngozi pulls her back. I would love to read more stories about Ngozi. The art is also better for "Under the Bridge," I think, with Ngozi in her bipedal dragonfly form sporting a cool black/white/cobalt blue costume.

Overall, not memorable except for "Under the Bridge." But I am down for more Ngozi.

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Hugo Reading 2019: "The City of Brass," by S.A. Chakraborty

2019-06-23T22:25:36Z

This is an Arabic-inspired fantasy, beginning in eighteenth-century Cairo (that's from the jacket flap; there's no specific year mentioned), and ending in the secret magical land of the daeva, or djinn. In between we have a rather complicated and fast-moving plot of rebellion, betrayal, oppression, and court intrigue, with a con artist protagonist who is much more than she seems.

This book started out slow but gradually drew me in, fueled by the two viewpoint characters: Nahri, the aforementioned con artist who discovers a world she never knew existed, and comes to realize she is not entirely human; and Ali, or Prince Alizayd al Qahtani, the second son of the king of the djinn. Ali is, to me, the more interesting character: young, naive, spoiled and idealistic, he falls in with and funds a rebel group fighting for the rights of the shafit, the part-human second-class citizens of Daevabad, the city of the djinn. Nahri and Ali cross paths and clash as their separate plots intertwine.

There's a great weight of backstory to this universe, impressively delivered in a non-infodumpy manner by the author. (Of course Nahri, not knowing anything about this world, serves as an able stand in for the reader.) The primary villain is Ali's father, King Ghassan, but even he is portrayed as having what he thinks are good reasons for what he does: preventing the simmering tensions within Daevabad from boiling over into full-blown civil war. This does not stop him from committing atrocities as he works to uphold the oppressive system of the djinn, and by the story's end it becomes clear that the entire system needs to be burned to the ground. Nahri, who at the end of this book is shown as accepting of and beginning to come into her full powers, seems to be up to the task.

This is a first novel, and it's a little rough, but the author has an interesting, well-thought-out universe here, and it's refreshing to read a fantasy drawn from a different culture. Recommended.

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Hugo Reading 2019: Two Strikeouts: "The Laundry Files," by Charles Stross

2019-06-09T22:15:46Z

The Nightmare Stacks (Laundry Files #7)

This is a muddled mishmash of Tolkien, Lovecraft and supernatural noir spy thriller, run through a twee, cutesy British filter and sporting a hefty amount of Neal Stephenson Overexplaining and Deadly Minutiae Syndrome (pages upon pages of weaponry description, just like pages upon pages of orbital mechanics, does not a story make), that made me struggle to finish it. Needless to say, I didn't like it very much. If that sort of thing sounds appealing to you, by all means have at it.

The Labyrinth Index (Laundry Files #9)

Couldn't finish this one, unfortunately: the Eight Deadly Words came into play early on. I guess this series just isn't for me. Although the Black Pharaoh (a Lovecraftian Elder God, now British Prime Minister) could certainly explain Britain's recent tendency to ricochet from one disaster to another.

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Review: "The Brightest Fell" and "Night and Silence," by Seanan McGuire

2019-05-29T00:56:44Z

The October Daye series is a good example of an author's evolution, and giving the author room and time to improve. The first book, Rosemary and Rue, released in 2009 at the start of the urban fantasy craze, is serviceable enough, and perfectly adequate. It is not outstanding. But keep reading the series, and you can trace the author's improvement in craft, prose, characterization and plotting. One of the greatest pleasures in reading this series, in fact, is how the seeds carefully planted in the earlier books spring to surprising and/or noxious life in the later ones.

The main character has changed a lot over the course of the series. Toby once wanted to be human, or as human as possible for a part-Fae changeling; now she embraces her Fae blood and powers. (Although if I were her, I would magick up some way to carry bags of replacement blood with me wherever I went, as she seems to lose gallons of it over the course of a book.) She once prided herself on needing no one, rejecting help, and pushing other people away; now she has a painstakingly built found family she is fiercely loyal to and will fight to maintain. She has even developed a friendship with her terrifying aunt, the Luidaeg (who is one of my favorite characters).

As Toby's character has deepened and expanded, so has the author's world. This book takes her into the depths of Faerie and brings her face to face with the older half-sister she never knew. It also reunites her with the person who betrayed her, Simon Torquill, who gets an affecting character arc of his own. There is a lot of trauma in this book, realistically portrayed, and it doesn't exactly end on a hopeful note.

(I also appreciated the inclusion of a side novella at the end, exploring a different character. This story, "Of Things Unknown," is an interesting blend of Faerie and cyberpunk.)

This is book number 11 of the series; as of right now, two books remain. I think McGuire is lining everything up and getting her ducks in a row for the finale. I'm looking forward to it.

This book follows on the heels of book #11, The Brightest Fell, and deals with the consequences and fallout of the events in that book. As a matter of fact, you could sum up the entire October Daye series with those two words: "consequences" and "fallout." It's rather refreshing to read a story that takes everything that has occurred previously into account, and demonstrates that these characters have to pay the piper. (It must be hellishly difficult for the author to keep everything straight, but I think Seanan McGuire is doing an admirable job.) There is a revelation in this book that upends pretty much everything that has gone before, and I presume the next book will deal with this. The extra side novella included, "Suffer a Sea-Change," tells the story of the climax of this book from another POV, and is a fascinating coda. I also appreciate that the characters are not recovering quickly from the events of the previous book, and in fact Toby's fiance Tybalt is suffering from a form of PTSD and has to take time away from his kingly duties to heal. To let a male character be vulnerable, and admit to needing help, just shows the author's increasing skill with her characters, and the depths of their characterization. "Suffer a Sea-Change" also gives us some nice insights into the Luidaeg. On the whole, this is a very satisfying story.

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Hugo Reading 2019: "Binti: The Night Masquerade," by Nnedi Okorafor

2019-05-18T21:26:58Z

This is the third in the Binti series of novellas, and the longest. It's on the border between novella and short novel. It wraps up Binti's story, and we find out more about her and her family, her village, her Himba people, the war between two alien races, and the secret behind the dreaded Night Masquerade.

For all of that, this entry in the trilogy is curiously uninvolving, at least to me. A large part of that is because, as much as I hate infodumps, I like a bit of explanation, and precious little is provided here. (For instance, I know I should pick up on contextual clues, but despite my best efforts I was never able to figure out what Binti's "treeing" ability actually is. Considering that she seems to do it every other page, this got quite annoying after a while.) The characterization in general was just not that great, and the story seemed to meander aimlessly to the end. It was okay, but it's definitely not in my higher tier of quality.

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Hugo Reading 2019: "Tess of the Road," by Rachel Hartman

2019-05-16T01:50:59Z

This book is a sort-of sequel to Seraphina and Shadow Scale, which introduced the country of Goredd and its dragon/human conflict. Tess Dombegh, the protagonist of this book, is the younger half sister of Seraphina, the half dragon/human who averted a war in the two earlier books. This book does not have stakes anywhere near that; it is the story of Tess's journey, both on the literal road and within, as she works through some PTSD and finds her own strength and sense of self-worth.

It's a deep character study, and the inner journey is meant to match the journey on the road: one step forward and two steps back, sometimes meandering, sometimes running, following the detours wherever they lead, and finally, at the end, coming to a better place with hope for the future. Not all of Tess's problems are solved, and not all of her mistakes are forgiven. This is fine, as she ends up a stronger person, sure of who she is and looking forward to the challenges ahead.

I liked it well enough, but it didn't knock my socks off. Maybe because in the two earlier books, Seraphina was a better-drawn and more interesting protagonist. This book also dragged in the middle and could have used some tightening up. The world opened up a bit, with the introduction of the World Lizards (basically a underground Goreddi version of Godzilla) that Tess's traveling companion, the quigutl Pathka (quigutls are smaller wingless cousins of this universe's dragons) is in search of. Unfortunately, the worldbuilding, the plotting in general, and the characterization is not enough to entice me to read further books about Tess.

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Hugo Reading 2019: "The Invasion," by Peadar O'Guilin

2019-05-16T01:45:09Z

This is the second book of the Call duology. I haven't read the first book, and to put it bluntly, this book is such a hot mess that I'm not going to pick it up.

Problems. Where do we start? The big ones here are the characterization and the pacing. The pacing is the font from which all the other problems flow. Since this entire book is basically one big fight and chase scene, the author hardly has time to spend on his characters (although he doesn't seem much inclined to develop them anyway). I'm hitting hard on this because I just watched a program on Netflix, Springsteen on Broadway, that brings home everything this book is lacking. (This is not SFF, but bear with me.) Bruce Springsteen is a natural storyteller; if you haven't read his autobiography, you're missing out on a treat. You wouldn't think two hours alone on a stage, telling stories and singing songs, would hold an audience's attention, but it absolutely works. Why? Because Springsteen has a thorough understanding of dynamics, flow and pacing. He varies his pitch, speed and volume throughout the show; the arc of his stories bounces upward to a few shouted sentences, then down to whispers, and the overall effect is mesmerizing. This is exactly what this book is lacking, and 321 pages of (in effect) frenzied over-the-top running and shouting gets damned tiresome after a while. If there was any depth to the characters, this could be partially overcome, but calling them cardboard is being kind. In addition, there's little to no exploration of the worldbuilding, which had the potential to be interesting, if the author had given it room to breathe.

Also, this book is far more a horror novel than it seems. In fact, if you have an aversion to body horror, you'd best not start reading this, because there is a lot of it. Far more than I would have expected for an ostensibly young-adult novel. I did finish the book, but because the characters failed to engage me, I really didn't care what happened to any of them. It's disappointing, because I think there could have been a good story here, if the author had taken a deep breath and slowed to a walk.

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Hugo Reading 2019: "Record of a Spaceborn Few," by Becky Chambers

2019-05-04T01:53:15Z

I'm a fairly serious reader of SFF (science fiction and fantasy). I haven't read all the classics, nor all the SFF published today; that's impossible. But I don't often run across a science fiction novel that I could properly describe as "warm, fuzzy and plotless." This book is exactly that.

It does have its charms, to be sure. It's a deep character study, focusing on six characters (five human, one nonhuman) with intertwined stories. One of the human characters dies midway through, which is one of the few things that actually happens in this book, providing a catalyst for the other characters' growth. What little action there is is character-based, with no overarching goal or threat. This leads to a notable lack of suspense and tension throughout, which must be made up for by the reader's investment in the characters. Your mileage will vary on this one. I struggled to finish this book, and it's already fading from my mind. It's nice as far as it goes, but "nice" is not "award-worthy." Especially when I've already read books this year that have well-drawn characters and an actual plot, and rising stakes. You can have all these things at once, people!

Look, if this is your cup of tea, hop to it. Just be aware that you'll get about as much "plot" as a typical literary novel (without any subsequent higher quality of writing; the writing here is more meat and potatoes--adequate for what it sets out to do, but not outstanding). Maybe that's your thing. It unfortunately is not mine.

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Hugo Reading 2019: "The Winter of the Witch," by Katherine Arden

2019-04-29T01:07:33Z

Katherine Arden is on this year's Campbell Award ballot for Best New Writer, so I checked out this book to reacquaint myself with her writing. In the process, I discovered one helluva good book which will definitely make my Hugo longlist for 2019, and possibly my shortlist as well.

This book is a heady stew of Russian history, myth and folktales. In an Author's Note, she reveals that the broad outlines of the final battle in this book actually occurred in history, at the Battle of Kulikovo in 1380. This sort of real-world historical grounding gives the narrative an edge that sets it apart from most fantasy. Unlike some war stories, the author does not concentrate on battle minutiae (there is some of that, but only to the extent necessary to set the stage and emphasize the importance of this battle), focusing instead on her characters and relationships. Plot threads woven in the previous two books come to a head in this one, and everything is resolved in a most satisfactory manner.

I particularly enjoyed the way the main character, Vasya, steps up and takes firm hold of her narrative, and shapes her own story. She's not a kick-ass heroine in the way that term is used nowadays--she doesn't swing a sword (though she is fairly adept with a knife) or have mad martial arts skills. She is, however, determined, stubborn, and persistent, and once she decides on a course of action she will carry it through, come hell or high water. In this book, she's aided by her family and friends, the latter being the people (humans and non-humans) she collects along the way. She is not a Mary Sue type; she is flawed, and as she says in the book, she has done good and she has done evil. But she is an inspiring character, and throughout the book she inspires the people around her to rally to her cause and see it through to the end, no matter the odds against them.

She's aided in this by two characters out of Russian legend: Morozko the frost-demon and Medved the Bear, the chaos-spirit. Both are complex characters (Morozko and Vasya become lovers in this book, in one of the best-written sex scenes I've read recently), and while Medved is pretty nasty in the first two-thirds of the book, when Vasya unbinds him to fight by her peoples' side in the final battle, the reader understands exactly why she does it. The book ends on not quite a triumphant note, but a bittersweet one: the reader can easily picture these three characters fading into the background, keeping the Russian folk demons alive and safe in their various magical realms, and being ready to step up at any time if they are threatened.

(The Russian firebird, masquerading here as a golden mare, figures prominently in this book, with an eccentric, cranky characterization that delights. Vasya's own magical horse, Solovey, is killed early on, but resurrected at the end of the book in a scene that will bring tears to your eyes.)

This is a fine book in its own right, not just as the conclusion to the Winternight Trilogy. I suppose the only drawback is that the reader's appreciation of this book does depend somewhat on your having read the previous two. However, this is a pleasure in itself; you can see that Arden's writing has matured beautifully, and she tells her story with an assured hand. Your appreciation of this book will deepen after having read the first two, but nevertheless, don't pass this one up.

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Hugo Reading 2019: "The Poppy War," by R.F. Kuang

2019-04-25T02:03:41Z

(Note: R.F. Kuang has been nominated for the John Campbell Award for Best New Writer. This is famously "not a Hugo," but it will be presented at the awards ceremony.)

I've heard a lot about this book. It's been nominated for several other awards, and even won a few. I've heard how intense it is, and how the author pulls no punches when it comes to her depiction of war, and how many content warnings it needs (all of them)...and I'm here to say that all of that is true.

But damn, this is one of the best books you'll read this year.

First and foremost, this is a story about war, and yes, it is bloody and gory and not for the squeamish. (Just as one example, if you want to know exactly what happens when you thrust your sword under someone's chin, the author will provide a detailed description.) But more than the physical aspects of war, this book tackles the psychological aspects. Specifically, how war slowly but surely drains away one's humanity, and makes a soldier into someone who sees the enemy not as a fellow human being who is fighting for the same reasons you are, but as an animal to be hated and destroyed, and finally, simply, as a number in your way to be subtracted. The protagonist, Fang Runin, undergoes this journey, and emerges as (as she says at the book's end):

I have become something wonderful, she thought. I have become something terrible.

Was she now a goddess or a monster?

Perhaps neither. Perhaps both.

This book breaks down what leads Runin (or Rin) to this place. It's a result of war, a reaction to the Federation invading her country of Nikan, but it also comes about due to her desire for power and revenge. She has a great deal to want revenge for, as it turns out. The depiction of the Federation destruction of a Nikara city and the wholesale slaughter of its entire population is a harrowing, sickening moment that I will warn you requires a lot of spoons to read. Multiple spoons. An entire drawerful of spoons. Even so, I wouldn't blame you if you set the book aside once you get to that point and never pick it up again. But Rin pushes on, and does something even worse in return, invoking the power of the supernatural entities she learns to partner with and control during the course of the book. It's a hideous game of one-upmanship, and the ending promises it will not stop there.

But because the author so convincingly strips Rin down to nothing but her hatred and obsession, it's as dark and compelling a character study as I've ever seen, and this is what kept me reading. There is no way out for these people, and their choices only make things worse. If you can't handle that kind of thing, it's best you don't even start this book. Because as bleak and relentlessly grimdark as it is from beginning to end, the author writes it with such skill you can't put it down. And dammitall, I'm going to pick up the sequel as soon as it comes out.

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"Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do"

2019-04-21T01:42:36Z

Review: Ms. Marvel Vol. 10, Time and Again

This is the end of an era, as these are the last issues written by series creator G. Willow Wilson. Which is sad, but this is a good way for Wilson to bow out. A large part of this is due to the fact that Bruno has returned from Wakanda; his relationship with Kamala was a highlight of the series' earlier volumes. This volume feels more grounded as a whole, focusing to Kamala's relationships with her family and friends (she admits to being Ms. Marvel to the latter, only to discover they've known this for a long time). Aside from an odd little trip to 1257 A.D. to show Kamala's purportedly Inhuman ancestor, and an equally strange aside in the final issue revealing some kind of "quest game" wormhole (if it does end up reinforcing Kamala's ties to her friends), this volume feels back on track.

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Hugo Reading 2019: "The Cruel Prince," by Holly Black

2019-04-17T03:16:39Z

If you want to tell grown-up fairy tales, you have to look for the dark side. ~Juan Antonio Bayona

For nearly the first half of this book, I thought there had been a Singular Logic and Plotting Fail, and I was grumbling to myself as I read. "Why is the protagonist still there? Why is she putting up with this nonsense? Is this some sort of weird Faerie Stockholm Syndrome, or what?"

But as the story, and more importantly, the characterization, continued to unfold, it dawned on me why, indeed. At the turning point of the book, I realized how carefully the author had planned her story. Given what happened and what was revealed, there was nowhere else the story could have gone, and my opinion of it did a 180-degree turnaround.

That, my friends, is some master class writing.

This is a dark, bloody tale from the get-go, with a Faerie that is the furthest thing from warm and fuzzy, or Tinkerbell-cute and treacly. These Fae, for the most part, are beautiful, charming, cruel, murderous sociopaths, and the author pulls no punches with them. None of the characters are likable, including the protagonist, but they are damned compelling, and not in a train-wreck sort of way, either. I suppose this book could be likened to a Faerie version of The Sopranos. We may think Tony is a monster...but we can't keep our eyes off him.

The book opens with a scene that sets the tone for the entire story: three young girls on a typical suburban morning, eating fish sticks and ketchup and watching TV while their parents work in the house. The doorbell rings and our protagonist, seven-year-old Jude, gets up to answer it. There is a man with greenish skin, pointed ears, and a long black coat she has never seen before, and his eyes are the same as her older sister Vivienne, vertical cat slits. The mother comes to the door, and the dialogue that follows establishes that Jude's mother was this person's (not a human) wife; and years ago, while pregnant with Vivi, she faked her death and fled. The situation escalates quickly, and the stranger kills the childrens' parents and kidnaps all three children to Faerieland.

Ten years later, our story opens with a grown-up Jude and her twin sister Taryn, living with Vivienne and her father, the redcap Fae Madoc, who is general to the King of Faerie. Madoc's position means the girls are given the same privileges as children of the Gentry, even though they are resented and persecuted (bullying is too mild a term for what Jude and her sister are subjected to--the torment borders on sadistic). Jude is concentrating on surviving and trying to earn some sort of place for herself at court.

All well and good. At least until I learned that Jude and her sister are not locked into Faerieland (or Elfhame, as it is called here); Vivi crosses back and forth between Elfhame and the "mortal world" fairly often, even taking Jude and Taryn on visits to the mall. When I read that, it about wrenched me out of the story. I thought, what the hell? Why are Jude and Taryn, or at least Jude, still in the land of Faerie, after being kidnapped and living with their parents' murderer? But I kept reading, and the reason soon became clear: Ten years of living in Faerieland has made Jude almost as ruthless, scheming and murderous as the redcap who raised her. There is no way she would be able to fit into the human world.

This is what I mean when I say the characters are not likable. The body count is high, and the manipulating and backstabbing is epic. The elder brother of Cardan, the titular "Cruel Prince," assassinates nearly his entire family in his attempt to gain the throne, and Cardan, who is introduced to us by way of his torment of Jude and Taryn, is no prize himself. But the author has cleverly cast her characters to draw the reader in regardless, and given them just enough whiffs of a peculiar and twisted kind of "honor" to keep us from turning away in disgust. In the end, Jude plays her game to its end and puts Cardan on the throne, and ends up becoming the shadow-ruler of Elfhame behind him.

The book ends there, as the epitome of the phrase, "Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it." This story is as cruel as its characters, and we will definitely not receive any kind of happy ending. But the writing is powerful, and I will be reading the sequel.

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"Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night"

2019-04-12T01:14:33Z

Review: The City in the Middle of the Night, Charlie Jane Anders

This book has an interesting concept, but the execution is....less so. This tale of a human settlement on a tidally locked planet (half in white-hot killer sunlight, half in frozen dark wastelands, with only a narrow center strip of habitable land) with slowly decaying technology, failing crops, changing climate, governmental upheavals, and deadly encounters with the native species, could have been an exciting adventure story in the right hands.

Unfortunately, that isn't this book.

There are a lot of problems with this book, but the deal-breakers for me were the pacing and the ending. This book is not well paced at all. A huge chunk of the center is simply a meandering, aimless muddle taking up pages for precious little purpose. The main characters wander here and there, get into trouble and out again, fight and escape death and settle in a new place that's worse than the first, and none of it serves to advance either characterization or plot, as far as I was concerned. Then, after the two main characters descend into the titular City and the Big Plot Point is finally revealed, the pacing becomes so breakneck there's no room to breathe or absorb what's happening. This plays right into the frankly terrible ending: with the last part (7 of 7) remaining, I realized there was way too few pages to account for all the plot threads and character beats that had been laid down. Sure enough, this book did not so much end as fizzle to a most unsatisfying halt, with all the storylines twisting in the wind. I looked at the last page and said, "Are you effing kidding me?" I'm not really one to throw books (especially hardbacks I've paid for) against the wall, but I assure you I thought about it.

The protagonists are not terribly well drawn either, and in particular there were several points where I wanted to slap Sophie. There's teenage angst, and being caught in the throes of first love, and then there's just being stupid (such as not realizing what the intensity of her feelings for Bianca really meant until the book was almost over, and repeatedly trying to redeem Bianca long after it should have been evident that there was no redemption). The book was much better--if there was a point where it could be termed "good" at all--when Sophie and Mouth were in the underground City, and Bianca was nowhere to be seen. In fact, now that I think about it, let's throw down the gauntlet and chop Bianca and her baggage right on out. Make this a tale of first contact, and the humans struggling to understand the Gelet, and the two species working together to overcome the horror of the humans' unknowingly despoiling the planet, and there might be an actual story here, instead of a mess.

That's what so frustrated me about this book, because I glimpsed the bones of what could have been, but they were almost completely buried. If there is a sequel to this book, I am not going to bother.

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"Science fiction is for real, space opera is for fun"

2019-04-06T03:43:46Z

Review: Ancestral Night, by Elizabeth Bear

This book pretty much hit all my sweet spots.

A memorable voice and a deep dive into the history and character of the protagonist? Check.

A smart-ass AI with tremendous loyalty to his friends? Check.

A far-future world with a multispecies empire of questionable moral authority (to say the least--artificial manipulation of hormones and brain chemicals to fit in is an accepted and even mandated thing)? Check.

A thoughtful exploration of the issues raised by said empire? Check.

Ships as big as planets, with one ship parked for thirty thousand years just inside the event horizon of the supermassive black hole at the center of the galaxy? Check.

A sapient, deep-space-dwelling species that seems to be a combination of space whale/seahorse with an Ancient Elder damn near as big as the aforementioned black hole Prize? Check.

And a main character who goes on quite the tumultuous personal journey, discovering things about herself kept hidden for twenty years, who at the end makes a firm decision to break free of her previous fears and limitations, and be the person she decides she is going to be, not the person various factions have tried to force her to be throughout her life? Check.

That's this book. It is not a quick read, despite being, in many ways, a classic space opera. It is deliberate, thoughtful and chewy, and deserves to be read slowly and savored. I think it would reward multiple reads.

I loved it.

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"The greatest gift is unconditional love and acceptance"

2019-04-01T00:14:55Z

Review: Real Queer America: LGBT Stories From Red States, by Samantha Allen

This is a combination travel book and memoir, with the common thread of finding and relating the stories of LGBT people in red states. The author was once a Mormon missionary before leaving the LDS church and transitioning, and the author tells both her story and the stories of others she finds on the road in an easy, conversational style.

This book is a bit of a revelation, as I'm sure many have heard the stories of queer people leaving their hometowns as soon as they possibly can, lighting out for big cities and more tolerant environments. Samantha Allen finds the stories of those who refuse to leave the places they love, and who are determined to drag those places into the 21st century. A lot of those places, needless to say, are in the Deep South--Texas, Mississippi, Tennessee, Georgia--as well as the author's home state of Utah. She visits queer bars, clubs, and communities, and her friends in those states. The important point is made that it is the close-knit bonds of these people, their chosen families, and their determination to fight for change for themselves and others, that sets them apart.

There are some interesting and emotional stories in this book, and Allen captures them very well. Her use of description and setting to ground the stories she relates is also done well. Despite the understandable fear and anxiety LGBT people are feeling over the current occupant of the White House, this is an encouraging, uplifting and even optimistic book. As the author states towards the book's end:

In twenty years, maybe sooner, it will matter even less which parts of the country queer people choose to inhabit because this is the generation that will be in power--a generation that believes in facts, that sees anti-LGBT discrimination as an archaic holdover from the past, that refuses to erase their lived authenticity to satisfy their elders. Queer kids in the future won't think twice about going to school in Georgia because acceptance will be the new nationwide status quo. Like transitioning, change is not a thing that happens all at once. But these kids will make it happen faster than anyone sees coming.

More power to them.

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"No literature is sound if it doesn't take a hard look at itself"

2019-02-02T23:05:23Z

Review: Astounding: John W. Campbell, Isaac Asimov, Robert A. Heinlein, L. Ron Hubbard, and the Golden Age of Science Fiction, by Alec Nevala-Lee

This is an exhaustive biography of John W. Campbell, the editor of the premier science fiction magazine for decades, Astounding. It also weaves in the lives of L. Ron Hubbard, Isaac Asimov, and Robert A. Heinlein, serving as mini-biographies of those writers as well as an in-depth examination of how all four men's lives and careers intersected.

It's pretty frank about their many faults. None of the four come off very well regarding their personal lives. Asimov was a persistent groper and harasser; Asimov, Heinlein and Campbell cheated on and abandoned their first wives; and Hubbard was the worst, an abusive, paranoid crackpot who founded the nonsense of Dianetics and the cult of Scientology. (With Campbell's help, I might add.) Campbell's racism is also frankly dealt with, and while one wishes such regressive views had been stomped into the dustbin of history, unfortunately they're chillingly familiar in the age of Trumpistan.

This book shows a valuable slice of American and science fiction history, and while I'm not as gaga over it as some, I recognize this is an important work. The prose is smooth and straightforward, and some of the scenes--in particular, Asimov's last, which closes the book--are quite touching. This particular synthesis of writers and ideas will never come again, and while in many ways it's for the best that the field has moved on, it's still valuable to look back and see how it all began.

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"There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats"

2019-02-02T22:49:45Z

Review: Strange Stars: David Bowie, Pop Music, and the Decade Sci-Fi Exploded, by Jason Heller

Despite the title, this isn't a biography of David Bowie, though he does figure prominently in it. (It is rather bittersweet reading at times, as the author makes plain how keenly Bowie is still missed.) It is, however, the chronicle of a decade, the 70's, bookended by Bowie's Major Tom songs, 1969's "Space Oddity" and 1980's "Ashes To Ashes." The focus here is on the marriage of rock, funk, disco, New Wave, and punk music with science fiction and fantasy. David Bowie is one of this eclectic blend's foremost practitioners, but he is by no means the only one, as the author's exhaustive research demonstrates.

Indeed, the progression of forgotten artists and songs across these pages is amazing. (And amusing, such as the anecdotes of Jefferson Starship, apparently post-Grace Slick, acting as the holo band in the much-maligned Star Wars Holiday Special, and a pre-Doctor Who Peter Capaldi singing and playing on an SF song with his group, the Dreamboys.) The prog-rock band Hawkwind, with its SF connection being the novelist Michael Moorcock, is almost as prominent as Bowie and Paul Kantner, who, with Jefferson Airplane, released the first Hugo-nominated album, Blows Against the Empire, in 1970. There's also a very interesting discussion of the amount of music inspired by Star Wars in 1977, including the disco-fied Star Wars and Other Galactic Funk (which I remember owning once upon a time! It might've been worth something now, dammit!).

This book's twelve chapters cover the marriage of SF and music from the end of the 60's to the beginning of the 80's, from 2001: A Space Odyssey to the birth of MTV. What a long, strange trip it was, and I'm grateful to the author for chronicling it.

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"If I Get Angry, I'm Scary"

2019-02-02T22:37:01Z

Review: Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Women's Anger, by Rebecca Traister

This is similar to another book I read last year, Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women's Anger, by Soraya Chemaly. (Review here.) I also gave that one five stars. I think this book has the edge, because Rebecca Traister is the better writer. But the subject and the treatment thereof is similar: the explosion of women's rage after the election of the pussy-grabber in the Oval Office.

(And this book definitely has the better cover. On its face, it's plain red and white, but hold it at a certain angle and you see the entire front cover is plastered with transparent F*CKs, over and over.)

In this book, Traister lays out the basis for womens' anger serving as the basis for revolutionary societal change, from Abigail Adams through Shirley Chisholm and Andrea Dworkin and Black Lives Matter till now. She discusses the concept of intersectionality, the ways various oppressions meet and intersect with each other, at great length, and calls out white women in the history of feminism for not supporting their sisters of color, which she describes as the backbone of most revolutionary movements. She also discusses the season of #metoo, the hashtag of sexual harassment and the volcanic explosion of rage in 2017 as women told their stories, bringing down many powerful men. The final section, "The Exhilaration of Activism," tells how women have taken their anger and transformed it into action, from civil disobedience to radical art to thousands of women signing up to run for office, many of whom had never considered doing so before. (This book ends before the 2018 midterms, when many of those same women flipped dozens of legislative seats nationwide, including 40 seats in the House of Representatives.)

It's a fascinating, well-researched book, and it, together with Soraya Chemaly's, do a wonderful job of tapping into the current cultural zeitgeist. These two authors are the perfect chroniclers of what's happening, and I hope they continue.

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