I liked Baker Thief a lot more than I expected - I struggled to get into it for the first 25%, and I was then surprised by how much I liked 3.5 stars.
I liked Baker Thief a lot more than I expected - I struggled to get into it for the first 25%, and I was then surprised by how much I liked the rest.
The beginning wasn't my favorite. Not only it was slow, which can happen and usually doesn't bother me, I also really didn't like the writing. It didn't flow well, at least at first, and it employed a lot of telling instead of showing, which isn't my favorite style: it keeps me at arm's length from the characters. I don't know what happened later - if the writing got better or if I just got used to it - but in the second half I didn't have any problems with it.
The worldbuilding was really interesting, and I would love to know more about it. Baker Thief is set in what I think is a Canada-inspired fantasy city, and the main characters' language is French. There were a lot of French words, and as someone whose first language is not English, I always love when writers incorporate other languages into the story in a way that isn't awkward (monolingual English writers are usually really bad at it). Also, so many plot-relevant croissant puns, I loved them. Baker Thief is set in a queer-normative society, has a mostly queer (if not all-queer) cast, and it's trans-, ace- and aro-inclusive, which is rare (so many queer books have no trans, aro and ace characters in the main cast, which... wasted potential). Also, there are characters who casually switch pronouns, use neopronouns or singular they, which is really nice to see.
But let's talk about the reason I read this book in the first place, which is the allosexual aromantic representation (the one thing I always look for in books and only found one other time). The main characters of this book are Claire/Claude, a genderfluid aromantic baker who is a thief by night, and Adèle, a demisexual woman who is a police officer. Adèle has a crush on Claude-the-baker and is trying to catch Claire-the-thief, which would be the perfect set up for a hate-to-love romance - except this isn't going to be a romance. Baker Thiefreframes common romance tropes for aromantic characters and non-romantic relationships. It shows how non-romantic bonds and non-romantic love can be just as compelling if one takes the time to develop them. There's a focus on family and siblings as well, but what makes this book is Adèle's and Claire's story - it's exactly the kind of trope subversion I was here for. I liked how their relationship was developed and I liked them as characters, just as I really liked the portrayal of aromanticism in this story. The part in which Claire mentions how it felt to be in a romantic relationship when you do not feel romantic love, how it almost feels like a lie, like everyone is feeling in a way you never will? Never saw it in a book before.
While I did end up liking the protagonists after the beginning, the characterization of everyone else was lacking, and the main source of conflict - witch discrimination and literal witch hunts - wasn't always that interesting. (The cats, however, were great. I ask for more cat scenes.) But I have to say that this is not exactly my kind of fantasy either, I always prefer morally gray/dark stories to lighter fantasy. If you're looking for a mostly light fantasy read with no romance and great queer rep, Baker Thief is perfect for you.
Merged review:
3.5 stars.
I liked Baker Thief a lot more than I expected - I struggled to get into it for the first 25%, and I was then surprised by how much I liked the rest.
The beginning wasn't my favorite. Not only it was slow, which can happen and usually doesn't bother me, I also really didn't like the writing. It didn't flow well, at least at first, and it employed a lot of telling instead of showing, which isn't my favorite style: it keeps me at arm's length from the characters. I don't know what happened later - if the writing got better or if I just got used to it - but in the second half I didn't have any problems with it.
The worldbuilding was really interesting, and I would love to know more about it. Baker Thief is set in what I think is a Canada-inspired fantasy city, and the main characters' language is French. There were a lot of French words, and as someone whose first language is not English, I always love when writers incorporate other languages into the story in a way that isn't awkward (monolingual English writers are usually really bad at it). Also, so many plot-relevant croissant puns, I loved them. Baker Thief is set in a queer-normative society, has a mostly queer (if not all-queer) cast, and it's trans-, ace- and aro-inclusive, which is rare (so many queer books have no trans, aro and ace characters in the main cast, which... wasted potential). Also, there are characters who casually switch pronouns, use neopronouns or singular they, which is really nice to see.
But let's talk about the reason I read this book in the first place, which is the allosexual aromantic representation (the one thing I always look for in books and only found one other time). The main characters of this book are Claire/Claude, a genderfluid aromantic baker who is a thief by night, and Adèle, a demisexual woman who is a police officer. Adèle has a crush on Claude-the-baker and is trying to catch Claire-the-thief, which would be the perfect set up for a hate-to-love romance - except this isn't going to be a romance. Baker Thiefreframes common romance tropes for aromantic characters and non-romantic relationships. It shows how non-romantic bonds and non-romantic love can be just as compelling if one takes the time to develop them. There's a focus on family and siblings as well, but what makes this book is Adèle's and Claire's story - it's exactly the kind of trope subversion I was here for. I liked how their relationship was developed and I liked them as characters, just as I really liked the portrayal of aromanticism in this story. The part in which Claire mentions how it felt to be in a romantic relationship when you do not feel romantic love, how it almost feels like a lie, like everyone is feeling in a way you never will? Never saw it in a book before.
While I did end up liking the protagonists after the beginning, the characterization of everyone else was lacking, and the main source of conflict - witch discrimination and literal witch hunts - wasn't always that interesting. (The cats, however, were great. I ask for more cat scenes.) But I have to say that this is not exactly my kind of fantasy either, I always prefer morally gray/dark stories to lighter fantasy. If you're looking for a mostly light fantasy read with no romance and great queer rep, Baker Thief is perfect for you....more
I wish I could not shelve this book as contemporary. Depart, Depart follows Noah, a Jewish trans man who ends up in a shelter after a hurricane devastaI wish I could not shelve this book as contemporary. Depart, Depart follows Noah, a Jewish trans man who ends up in a shelter after a hurricane devastates Houston. It's a story about what societal collapse brings out in people - about connection and grief and rage, and about how catastrophe puts even more of a target on marginalized people's backs.
I usually can't read stories about natural disasters, but this one worked for me - I couldn't stop reading it. Maybe it's because it's short, maybe it's because it's not as hopeless as it could have been, despite being realistically bleak; maybe it's because reading from the point of view of someone who is also constantly afraid makes it paradoxically less exhausting. (I don't have to feel all of it on my own, I guess?)
The most chilling part of reading Depart, Depart is that it feels exactly like something one could see playing out. Not only because it follows a climate disaster that could actually happen in the present, but because of how real the characters and their dynamics felt. The portrayal of the queer "found family" feels close to reality from the big picture - how queer people quickly group together from the beginning, because there's safety in numbers, but also how the most privileged and rich don't care about the others once they're safe themselves - to the details, like accusations of oppression olympics during tense moments, the non-binary person wondering about vegan options, Mountain Goats mentions… I'm not American but if you've been around US trans twitter for enough time, you know these people. That's why it hurts.
All the while, Noah is being haunted by visions of his great-grandfather, who escaped Nazi Germany as a boy. There are parallels between Noah's situation and Abe's, and this story also follows what it means for Noah to be Jewish and raised in an atheist family - the history that goes with that, and what has been passed down to him in good and bad and all the ways in between.
After all, this felt like a story about how we can't change what was, but we can choose to not repeat someone else's - or our own - mistakes. Noah has left behind people in the past to tragic circumstances, but now he can choose to stay with those he's grown to care about - because something Depart, Depart highlights is the importance of connections between people, how they help us in the most difficult times....more
Yellow Jessamine is a queer gothic horror novella following shipping magnate, poisoner and pretend-widow Evelyn Perdanu as a terrifying plague of mystYellow Jessamine is a queer gothic horror novella following shipping magnate, poisoner and pretend-widow Evelyn Perdanu as a terrifying plague of mysterious origin devastates her already dying city.
I will start by saying that I'm not completely sure I got this. Horror endings are some of the most polarizing things to read for me, as them not resonating can break the book, and I think that's what happened here. The ending made sense, and it wasn't necessarily underwhelming, but I still finished the novella thinking "that's it?": it didn't make sense to me on an emotional level. However, that's something so personal that I don't think it should discourage others from picking the book up, despite it being the main reason I didn't get much out of this.
Because there is a lot to love about Yellow Jessamine. A story that knows the potential of a creepy poison garden is a story I want to love, and so is a story that explores how someone's paranoia can be at the same time their strength and their downfall. It is a creeping spiral from misanthropy to paranoia, all rooted in a self-loathing so overwhelming that it masks every other feeling in Evelyn's mind.
That might be one of the reasons people aren't recognizing this as a queer book, but it is, and it's clearly queer early on. No, the main character isn't in a place where she can think about loving or anything similar. However, anyone who isn't forcing heteronormativity on the novel can recognize that Evelyn is meant to be a portrayal of a lesbian who happens to be deeply unwell, given that from the beginning Evelyn spends a lot of time thinking about her maid Violetta undressing her, describes Violetta as (quoting) "special", "radiant", and the only good person in the world, and becomes clearly uncomfortable when men show any interest in her. I wish people realized that we're used to dismiss - often, even in ourselves - signs of women being attracted to women at every turn because of how homophobia and misogyny shape the way we understand and recognize desire. There's a reason "just gals being pals" about obviously gay situations is a lesbian meme. To not take this at all under account and just stating "this isn't really queer" is to reinforce heteronormativity. This isn't a love story, this is a tale about devotion and obsession and downfall. Queer people exist - and should get to exist in fiction - outside of clear romantic storylines.
Overall, I didn't feel strongly about this. Reading Yellow Jessamine felt like following something to its inevitable consequence, but the atmosphere wasn't strong enough for that to work: it should have felt creepy and ominous, but everything was too vague and barely-grounded. Maybe I would have liked it more had it sacrificed some of its readability (it is a quick read) for some heavier writing. More detail and clear indication of how things looked like would have made the whole story feel much more claustrophobic. You can't feel trapped in a manor if the book doesn't even really bother telling you how it looks like.
I still have a lot of respect for how casually messed up this book gets, and Evelyn is a fascinating if somewhat static (that's kind of the point! She is rooted) character to follow, but I don't know how much it will stay with me....more
Murder husbands and Dragon Kingdom politics! Of Dragon, Feasts and Murder is a novella set in the Dominion of the Fallen universe that can be read as aMurder husbands and Dragon Kingdom politics! Of Dragon, Feasts and Murder is a novella set in the Dominion of the Fallen universe that can be read as a standalone, but I especially recommend it to fans of the series who want to have a more detailed understanding of the Dragon Kingdom. It was my favorite setting in the series, and as all places in this universe, it's far from free of its own brand of rot (literally and not).
One of the things I appreciated the most about this novella was how it refused to fall into a simplistic portrayal of any side. There are people who are firmly in the wrong, but the core reason beneath the murderous political machinations is the fact that necessary change isn't happening.
At the same time, I'm surprised by how long it took me to read this? Maybe because most of this is made up of talking, and while I did really like said talking - I live for Thuan and Asmodeus' thorny relationship dynamic - I didn't feel much tension or urgency, which is unusual for a murder mystery.
Anyway this would get four stars only for referring to Asmodeus as "sweet, murderous delight". (No seriously the Empress Dowager's scenes!!)...more
A graphic novel from the PoV of a young woman with an eating disorder as she finds a magical chocolate bar (called "Eat, and Love Yourself") that makeA graphic novel from the PoV of a young woman with an eating disorder as she finds a magical chocolate bar (called "Eat, and Love Yourself") that makes relive some of the moments in her past that defined the negative relationship she has with herself and her body: her well-meaning but insensitive parents, their expectations, the bullying at the hand of her classmates, the many fatphobic comments masked as concern for her health, or concern for her future and relationships in general. It's emotional and short and... really resonated with me in the way I know sometimes bringing up memories/rereading a diary can be, the way it can help you understand the many small-yet-messed up things that happened to you, what repercussions they still have today even though you didn't truly understand them in the past, and maybe it can even help you have a clearer idea of what to do about them. The hopeful, open ending was just what it needed. (Also, I loved the cat. More comics need to have cats in them.)...more
Conflicted: this really doesn't stand on its own, but there's also no way this is the last we see of Regan, so should I mind the abrupt ending?Conflicted: this really doesn't stand on its own, but there's also no way this is the last we see of Regan, so should I mind the abrupt ending?...more
An adorable F/F romance novella following two Dominican women who meet at a baking show, feat. dislike to love dynamic! And, did you know th3.5 stars.
An adorable F/F romance novella following two Dominican women who meet at a baking show, feat. dislike to love dynamic! And, did you know that there was only one bed? I really liked this one - the writing might not always have been the best (the sense of setting was completely lacking¹), but the food descriptions, the relationship and the sex scenes were all well-written.
While Kiskeya and Sully are both Dominican, they have very different relationships with their culture, as Sully was born in America and Kiskeya grew up in the Dominican Republic, and have different experiences with growing up queer and Dominican as well; I loved seeing how this influenced their dynamic, made them clash just as much it made them understand each other and fit together.
Overall, a light, fun holiday read.
¹ [This book was making such a big deal out of the fact that the show took place in Scotland that it reminded me of Her Royal Highness. Then it barely bothered to talk about anything at all that would have made it feel as if it actually had a setting.]...more
Over the Woodward Wall is on one side a very straightforward children's books, on the other a very meta experiment in mirroring. This is A. Deborah BakOver the Woodward Wall is on one side a very straightforward children's books, on the other a very meta experiment in mirroring. This is A. Deborah Baker's first book, which in our world means "the first novella Seanan McGuire wrote under this pseudonym", but if you've read Middlegame, it means something completely different. And that's where my main doubt comes in: would someone who hasn't read Middlegame get much out of this at all? Because I'm not sure.
This is the story of Avery and Zib, two children who couldn't be more different but have tied fates, as they stumble in a different world on their way to school. If you've read Middlegame, you also know that twins Roger and Dodger were as different as twins can possibly be while still being close in a way no one else can ever be, therefore encompassing the rest of reality between them - like two letters at opposite ends of the alphabet. This similarity has plot relevance in Middlegame, as Over the Woodward Wall sits inside it, but not here; here noticing the parallels is something that enriches the reading experience, but even if you can't, you'll be perfectly fine. Because, if it weren't for the existence of Middlegame, this wouldn't be anything but perfectly fine in the most forgettable way possible.
This isn't a children's book, the same way Seanan McGuire's Wayward Children isn't YA but an adult response to the YA portal fantasy genre - one that imitates its structure and some of its characteristics. By which I mean, Over the Woodward Wall is a cuckoo and doesn't even really make for a good children's books; I know that if I had read it in middle school, I would have found it bland, boring, and way too interested in its own cleverness. I would have found the Crow Girl bits very compelling, as I found them interesting and cool to read now, especially the tiny spin on gender and being fragmented it took - I wanted more of that, and less of the rest.
And is it preachy. Every single character in the Up-and-Under is interested in giving the main ones life lessons, only disguised in a quirky way - this is, when the narration isn't already trying to do that to the reader. While this is clearly a stylistic choice more than a flaw, it's one I don't really get along with: it's tedious, and I would have felt talked down to had I been a kid. Now I know that books written like this are soothing to listen to while doing chores, but don't work for me on ebook at all. And that's a shame, I feel like this book is (even more) full of easter eggs and meta commentary that I could find while I constantly felt like skimming all of it. I hope there's going to be an audiobook of Over the Woodward Wall, because it's the format I would recommend it in, and even then, almost only to Middlegame fans....more
Sometimes a worldbuilding is as steampunk as it is folktale, and sometimes a family is an obstinate non-binary artist, a prime duelist and a philosophSometimes a worldbuilding is as steampunk as it is folktale, and sometimes a family is an obstinate non-binary artist, a prime duelist and a philosophical mecha dragon, and isn't that just perfect?
Phoenix Extravagant is the story of Gyen Jebi, an artist married to their profession (read: kind of... oblivious about anything that isn't art) as they get caught in the middle of political machinations involving a revolutionary movement in Hwaguk, a fantasy country heavily inspired by Korea under Japanese occupation.
The main character of this book isn't a genius. They aren't good at manipulation or even that charming; they aren't the type of larger-than-life character that leaps off the page like in Machineries of Empire, because this isn't a space opera. This is deliberately a story about a very ordinary person, one good at painting but not a prodigy, who is caught in a place where they're way out of their depth. The book never lets them forget that, and neither do the characters, in a myriad of ways that vary from "subtle" to "outright laughing in Jebi's face because [character] couldn't believe they could be so dense". I don't have a problem with that. I may prefer to read about really competent people because many things are more fun that way, yes. I also know that it's easy, as a reader, to say "well that wasn't smart", but would have I, another ordinary person who would be out of their depth, made better decisions in that situation? No, probably worse. I just need the book not to try to pass it as smart, you know?
And Jebi grew on me. I didn't feel strongly about them at first, but something about their sometimes misplaced obstinacy, their ordinary nature paired with odd artist habits, the way they trusted too easily and were paranoid at less rational moments... I ended up really liking them, and it was probably the "must absolutely paint with mud" scene that made it for me. I also loved the romance, because it appealed to me on so many levels (...characters who grow close physically first and then learn to trust each other? Yes. Also that sex scene.) and because I, too, would be really into the beautiful woman who is the enemy prime duelist. The romance is far from the only important relationship in the book; there's a really complicated sibling relationship at the heart of this, tense and with a lot of conflict but also love. And if you love animal companion stories, you probably really want to read this. My favorite character was Arazi, whom you see on the cover. Mechanical dragon-shaped war machine outside, true pacifist dragon inside!
And when I say "true dragon", I mean that this involves aspects and details involving legends and creatures who come from them. There's a reason this is completely fantasy and not steampunk alt-history.
About the worldbuilding, I always come back to how much I love the way Yoon Ha Lee incorporates queerness into his books. Here, polyamory, same-gender relationship and non-binary people (called geu-ae) are varying degrees of normal, from "not even remarked upon" to "our colonizers see this as odd but who cares". And it goes far beyond a superficial level, involving even small details like cues certain more marginalized groups use to recognize each other (haircuts) to even the very deliberate way the sex scene is written. Queerness is woven into the fabric of this world, it isn't an afterthought. The magic system was really unique, perfect for the story, and horrifying on several levels, being (view spoiler)[literally built on the destruction of artifacts from the oppressed culture (hide spoiler)]. That was one in a series of ugly surprises.
Phoenix Extravagant deals with many aspects of living in a colonized country, from the forced assimilation barely disguised as modernization to the way the history and art of the colonized people is systematically hidden, stolen, and sometimes destroyed. It talks about food, languages, accents, and especially names; the name change Jebi goes through at the beginning seems such an easy choice to make at first, one with little cost, but it turns out not to be at all. Names have power even when that power isn't literal. It also talks about art in the context of different philosophies between the Hwagin and the Razanei, and between both of them and the Western world, which I found really interesting to read. And about war. I already know the ending is going to be polarizing for a lot of people but I loved it deeply, both for what it was and for what it said.
Did I love this as much as my favorite series, Machineries of Empire? No. I don't see it as a full five stars, more like a 4.5, and there were a few things I didn't like about it: ↬ this book feels the need to state the obvious at times. I wonder how much that has to do with the other series' reception, and I wonder how much I would have noticed this in another book (probably a lot less), but still, it was there; ↬ the beginning seemed aimless at first. It's very much not, and I get why it was that way, but I was thinking "where's the plot" for at least 15% of this. I still really liked it, and want to reread it at some point in the future. I know I will appreciate some parts of it even more now that I know what they're doing.
CW: (view spoiler)[interrogation scene featuring torture (beating) of the mc; certain minor characters try to trap and eat a cat (the cat is fine and does not get eaten); mass death; earthquake; bombing; injury (hide spoiler)]...more
This is nothing like Twilight: the similarities are superficial at best, and a trope in common does not a similar book make.
The Beautiful is a story aThis is nothing like Twilight: the similarities are superficial at best, and a trope in common does not a similar book make.
The Beautiful is a story about desire and power (and desire for power) from the point of view of a young woman. That's the main reason I don't want to say it's similar to the vampire story that basically preaches abstinence in your face. They share a few tropes and plot devices; apart from that, I really don't see the similarities.
4.5 stars.
After this, a disclaimer: this review is personal, it will get long, and I hope that it will be coherent.
Part One: On the Portrayal of Sexual Assault and Catholic Self-Loathing
So, The Beautiful is the most culturally Catholic book I've ever read, and unexpectedly so. The main character, Celine, is French and biracial Korean, and was raised in what's implied to be a (by today's standards) strict Catholic environment. I've never seen a character with this specific kind of background before, especially not in an American fantasy book.
And did it make for some unpleasant flashbacks. From age 3 to age 13, I attended an Italian Catholic school led by sisters; all of them were both old and what one could call old-school Catholics. The environment I was immersed in for most of my childhood isn't too different from Celine's own background, and I'm familiar with the ways it can be toxic.
Which brings me to the point: this book has the best portrayal of Catholic self-loathing I've ever seen. Celine is a wild, carefree person. She has always craved danger and on some level power; what happened to her and brought her to New Orleans only forced her to face that fact, and now she is disgusted by herself. Celine was sexually assaulted by a man, and she killed him in self-defense. She doesn't feel regret about that, the book is pretty clear about it, and she states (quote) that:
"Celine still wasn't sorry for what she had done."
What horrifies her is the fact that she liked it. That she liked wielding power, that she didn't feel remorse at all, for killing - which, according to Catholicism, is a mortal sin. In the eyes of the Catholic church, especially of the Catholic church of her time who would no doubt blame her for what happened instead of seeing it rightfully as (acceptable by Catholics) self-defense, Celine has just done something evil, that she could atone in only some specific way I don't remember because I didn't pay that much attention during the mandatory religion class, being an atheist. But you can't atone without regret, which she doesn't feel. Of course she feels bad about not feeling it, even though we know she did nothing wrong.
We know, and if one understands what she's going through, why expect her not to have any mixed feelings about what happened? Because that's kind of how the comments that say "this book tells sexual assault victims they shouldn't fight back" - which Celine doesn't even think, as she does the very Catholic thing of feeling bad about her own emotions instead - read to me. And getting out of this self-hating mindset is the heart of her character arc!
"Sin isn't as black and white as they'd like us to believe."
A character arc that is really meaningful and close to me. One might think this is a book that wants to talk about "the mindset of people at the time", but I want people to know that is still really relevant today.
I'm an atheist and a lesbian. I've always known about the first but not about the second. How long did it take me to be somewhat comfortable with that after being raised in this kind of deeply homophobic religious environment - if I start counting from the moment I knew and understood that there was nothing wrong with being gay? Three years, and I don't even believe in sin. You internalize that sort of thing. If I internalized homophobia on a deep level, Celine internalized that women should make themselves small, be humble, not crave power and feel anything remotely positive in being able to best their attackers. She knows she did the right thing, she knows defending herself was the right thing, but what you know doesn't matter. She hates herself and has to work through it. Which she does, and she'll probably continue to do in the following books.
Part Two: Power, who has it, who craves it
There's something wonderful about seeing marginalized people be involved in a historical narrative that is specifically about power. Reading about La Cour des Lions, an underground supernatural society composed mostly by people of color and queer people, is the best kind of escapism. The kind that asks, what if the ones that white American society always tried to make powerless weren't powerless at all, in more than one way? That's giving power to those who usually don't get it in fantasy - much less historical fantasy - books, which is why I love that this wasn't contemporary.
Reading about women who crave power is something I've always loved and yet rarely find outside villain origin stories. Yes, Celine is somewhat self-centered. The narrative doesn't praise nor tear her down for that, and I appreciated that so much. The book even lets her make the classic clueless straight girl faux pas ("but I'm not into you" and the like) when the lesbian side character Odette comes out to her, and the book calls her out for it! I loved that scene. Celine is flawed and - in her words - reckless, incomplete and inappropriate, and I love her deeply.
Often, women are asked to choose between love and ambition; here, power is a central theme of the romance as well, which is the right thread to follow in a story involving vampires, if you ask me. Both potential love interests have power over Celine, and Celine is attracted to them both in spite and because of that, but most of all, she wants power over them. The idea that their attraction to her is one of their weaknesses is probably the most attractive thing about the whole tangle to her.
And while both relationships are unbalanced, the ways the two love interests approach the situation are very different and tied to the power/agency theme, which is why the romance being a hinted-at love triangle makes sense (fight me) even though you know who she'll very likely choose: ...more
And here I am, continuing my tradition of reading series out of order. I mean, it was fine¹ when I did that with the Xuya series, and I also believe tAnd here I am, continuing my tradition of reading series out of order. I mean, it was fine¹ when I did that with the Xuya series, and I also believe that while sequels don't have to stand on their own, spin-offs absolutely should, so why not try and read something when there are five books of worldbuilding before that one? This kind of thing obviously can't go wrong².
You don't need to have read the Memoirs of Lady Trent series to understand Turning Darkness Into Light. However, I think it could be much more meaningful to you if you had, as some of the characters from that series are often mentioned, and as this novel is told entirely through letters, lists, journal entries and translations of ancient tablets. This is a really interesting choice, and I loved this somewhat mixed-media aspect, but this format isn't really suited to descriptions that don't feel like awkward infodumps, which is probably the reason I still have no idea how a Draconian looks like.
This is the story of Audrey Camherst (Lady Trent's granddaughter) as she translates ancient tablets from a long-lost Draconean civilization in a place where anti-Draconean sentiment seems to be on the rise, and betrayal could be lurking on every corner. It's also the story of the Four who hatched from a single shell - yes, this novel has a story within a story, which is an aspect I loved.
More than anything, Turning Darkness Into Light is about the importance of narratives, of the stories we choose to tell, and how they shape our understanding of ourselves as much as of "the other", and how nothing is ever "just a story". Writing fiction is, and has always been, inherently political. It also makes some really good points about how bigotry isn't something in which only extremists engage, and the subtle, non-violent kind is just as dangerous as the unsubtle, violent one, as the two are tied together. One can't exist without the other.
The positives end there. I don't have much else to say; Audrey as a character didn't stand out that much to me, and neither did most characters, Cora being the only exception. I appreciated that the portrayal of an antagonistic relationship between a man and a woman that had an undercurrent of attraction but didn't turn into a romance, as an idea, but I didn't really believe it as much as I'd hoped. The format didn't help with that, as I felt it added a lot of distance between me and the characters.
This is a solid novel, if not a really memorable one, and the Memoirs of Lady Trent is one of the series that I'm considering and will maybe start this year.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ¹ narrator: it was not fine. She struggled for half of the first novella she tried ² narrator: keep telling yourself that....more
I think that at its heart, The Ten Thousand Doors of January has a great message. It is based on soThis was, for the most part, unimpressive.
2.5 stars
I think that at its heart, The Ten Thousand Doors of January has a great message. It is based on some really clever and interesting ideas, especially the ones surrounding the role of doors, of magic and portal fantasy. I also thought that the writing was - usually, more on that later - beautiful without needing to draw that much attention to itself, every word chosen carefully. It had a harmony to it, as if it were made to be read out loud; I think it would sound amazing as an audiobook.
I was also going to say that this book had a solid portrayal of the psychological consequences of childhood abuse, but something that happened in the second half - the (view spoiler)[mind control, which I suspected, but hoped wasn't going to be a thing (hide spoiler)] - made me change my mind. One didn't need that to make January's struggle to talk back and disobey realistic. It kind of undermined the whole thing. Anyway, abuse does have a relevant role in this story, as the biracial main character is raised by a racist white man and abused both by him and by her white maid; at one point the main character also experiences forced institutionalization and abuse at the hand of psychiatrists, which I wish I had known before reading.
The rest of the book is... fine. I don't have much to say about it, because one of my problems with it was exactly how unremarkable it was. All the characters but January didn't have any dimension to them. All the portal worlds but one are barely described. Also, it took me more than two weeks only to get through the first 30%. It was partly my fault, but everything I have to say on the pacing isn't good.
While I said that the author clearly put effort in choosing the right words, the same didn't happen when it came to including Italian ones. This led to jarring sentences and weird moments, like the one in which the Italian-American love interest calls the main character a "strega", as if that were a compliment. It does mean "witch", yes, but not in the way the English word does. It doesn't carry the same connotations, the aspect of the cool independent woman who saves herself. I asked the people around me, and it doesn't make any of us think of mysterious, dangerous but alluring magic. A strega is an old woman with a pointy hat and warts. He basically called her a hag.
It might be that the character, having grown up in America, sees the word as just a translation - but then, why not use the word "witch", if that's what you mean. Why use Italian words at all, if you don't even bother to get the plural right? Was that a sign of laziness, of not even caring that other languages don't do plurals the way English does, or was it done to cater to monolingual anglophones who might be confused by an Italian plural but still want a sprinkle of ~exotic flavor~? I don't know, I don't particularly care, but in a book that attempted to talk about exotification among other things, this struck me as hypocritical....more
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