Author: katenepveu

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Caudwell, Sarah: (04) The Sibyl in Her Grave (re-read)

So I did eventually get around to re-reading the last of Sarah Caudwell’s Hilary Tamar books, The Sibyl in Her Grave, and was immediately sorry I hadn’t done it sooner. I’d been thinking that it was much drearier, longer, and less good than the others, but I was entirely wrong: I think it’s probably the best of the four [*], and though there is a thread that I find very difficult to read, it’s like Frodo and Sam in Mordor in that it takes up much less of the book than I’d remembered.

Also, when I said the first time through that I was “rather tempted to read as a meditation on chronic illness”? Apparently I missed the bit where that comparison is explicitly drawn (the letter in chapter 21).

[*] It’s the kind of jump that I imagine Harriet Vane’s novels taking post-Have His Carcase, if that helps. (Apparently I am feeling very literarily-referential tonight.)

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Turner, Megan Whalen: Thief, The; The Queen of Attolia; The King of Attolia; A Conspiracy of Kings

It is quite difficult to coherently explain why I like Megan Whalen Turner’s Attolia series (The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings) so much, because most of those reasons involve enormous spoilers for the first two books. On the other hand, this problem would have been more vexing before the fourth book, because I didn’t like that nearly as well and as a result am less enthusiastic about recommending the entire series to people.

These are published as YA, though the first is the one that fits most comfortably in that genre. They are fantasies mostly in the same way that Swordspoint is, that is, they are deliberately set not in our world in an ahistorical and nonmagical time and place. They do weave in many recognizable historical elements, mostly Greek history and mythology (regrettably, it appears the principal bad guys are Persian-analogues). However, a small but significant strand in the series involves deities in a way that I found really cool and unusual.

Structurally, it may be useful to think of The Thief as a prologue. I enjoyed it, because it’s the kind of first-person narration that is right up my alley, but it is very different from the rest of the books and is probably not necessary to read first. Of the rest, Queen and King are reasonably described as younger cousins of Dunnett’s Lymond Chronicles: not nearly as formidably complex, but with something of the same slightly distant, yet highly Id Vortex-y, approach to complex characters and their relationships, politics, and revelation of plot. I didn’t like King as much at first, because I found it disorienting to have a new character as a narrator, but it definitely grew on me, so if you like Queen, it’s definitely worth reading all of King as well.

Unfortunately, then there’s Conspiracy, about which I have two criticisms. One is that the first-person sections don’t work as what they are purported to be; this only shows up in small ways but it’s the kind of thing that bothers me. The other is an enormous spoiler for the book’s end, which I discussed back in the day over at LiveJournal (which link shows just how backlogged I am here). Upon re-reading, yes, I still don’t like it; worse, it makes me very dubious about the direction of the series.

So if these sound appealing, to the limited extent I can convey their appeal without spoiling them (and they really are best read without spoilers), you might consider reading through King and then stopping for the moment: it doesn’t end on a cliffhanger, and that way if the rest of the series doesn’t redeem itself, then you won’t have spent the time. But the first three are definitely worth reading.

(Series name note: the fan-created consensus appears to be “Queen’s Thief,” which I don’t like. “Attolia” isn’t really accurate either, but at least has the virtue of being in two of the book titles.)

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Griffin, Kate: (02) The Midnight Mayor: Or, The Inauguration of Matthew Swift

Kate Griffin’s The Midnight Mayor: Or, The Inauguration of Matthew Swift is the sequel to A Madness of Angels. I had been somewhat dubious about the idea, but having read it, I agree that it advances Matthew Swift’s character and story. And as Chad puts it, it’s nice to have an urban fantasy series with no Awesome Werewolf Boy/Girlfriend. [*] On the contrary, Matthew’s most significant continuing relationship is with a woman who spends most of their time together saying that she’s going to kill him (she means it, too). I admit, I find this inordinately amusing.

[*] In fact, I don’t remember seeing anything in this book that would contradict a reading of Matthew as asexual. And I remember reading a review of the first that pointed out that of all the new sensations he was registering and seeking out (long story), anything sexual was conspiciously absent.

At any rate. London’s magical protections have been obliterated: the ravens at the Tower of London are dead, the London Stone has been destroyed, the London Wall has been cursed, and the Midnight Mayor has been killed. Matthew Swift finds himself in urgent need of finding out what’s happening and whether the death of cities really exists:

“Just a rumour, a legend. You hear stories. Stuff like . . . when the atom bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, there was a house right in the middle of the blast, at its very heart, untouched while the rest of the city was levelled. They say that there was a man in the house, who had his face turned towards the sky as the bomb fell and who just smiled, smiled and smiled and didn’t even close his eyes. But then again, you’ve got to ask yourself . . . “

” . . . who survived that close to the bomb to tell?”

“Right. It’s always the problem with these sorts of stories. Or they say that when Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, there was a man who walked through the flooded streets and laughed and the water could not buffet him, or when they firebombed Dresden there was a guy untouched by the flames, or when the child tripped running into Bethnal Green station during the Blitz, that there was someone who knocked her down and climbed over the bodies piled up in the stairway. Myths. That’s all. Rumours and myths. And just in case these things aren’t scary enough on their lonesome, they just had to go and give this smiling, laughing, burning man a name, and call him the death of cities. Naturally, I don’t believe a word of it. And yes, of course I’m scared. Just in case.”

(If someone makes a “Sympathy for the Devil” joke in the book, I missed it.)

Like A Madness of Angels, this splashy high-stakes magical plot nevertheless rests on a rather intimate, personal foundation, which I enjoyed seeing unfold and resolve. I guessed the direction of the plot completely wrong, in fact, because I was working on high fantasy assumptions and this isn’t that kind of book.

If you liked the first book, I see no reason you shouldn’t like this book. It has the same great setting and inventive magic. It builds on the last book, but lightly and with plenty of reminders of what happened for those of us who didn’t re-read recently. (Also, it revisits one of my favorite scenes from the last book, the subway scene in the Prologue, in a way that made me wriggle with delight.) And it may be better at evoking emotional reactions than the last book; there were some aspects of the ending that made me sadder than aspects of the last book that were objectively more serious. (Really big spoilers, ROT-13: cbbe ybera. v qba’g xabj vs jr’yy frr ure ntnva, ohg bqn arrqf gb pbzr onpx naq trg orggre! rira gubhtu v ernyyl yvxr gung qrirybczrag, sebz n punenpgre-tebjgu fgnaqcbvag, gurer unq orggre abg or nal pbafreingvba bs xvpx-nff oynpx jbzra tbvat ba.) I look forward to the forthcoming third book (The Neon Court, March 2011; ‘ware spoilers for this book in the description of the next one, if you go looking).

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Jordan, Robert, and Brandon Sanderson: (13) Towers of Midnight

So I have finally carved out enough time to finish the latest Wheel of Time book by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson, Towers of Midnight. This is the penultimate book in the series and the middle book of the three that Sanderson is completing from the work Jordan left behind, and it really feels it, in ways that makes it hard for me to give a coherent evaluation of it as a single book. In fact, my dominant impression is that this book, far more than the previous one, brings home to me just how difficult it is to conclude this series.

One of the difficulties is pacing. This book starts a little slow in that its early sections are more concerned with personal interactions than major plot events. This is entirely welcome—indeed, my mental designation for this book is “the one where people finally talk to each other, already”—and I didn’t notice it while I was reading, because it mostly flowed smoothly [*] and I was pleased at the substance, but still, from a step back, the book does take a while to get going. Similarly, Perrin’s arc, which is central to this book the way that Egwene’s was to the last, has a wheel-spinning quality early.

[*] There are still some jarring prose bits, though I noticed fewer of them here. In particular, no-one in a quasi-medieval society should ever think, “She’d been played,” when realizing that she’s been manipulated.

Yet, paradoxically, many of the events in this book also felt ever-so-slightly rushed. While it feels entirely ungrateful to complain about this when I actually stopped reading the series earlier because everything was so drawn out, I’m still not quite satisfied with the balance struck here. Which brings me back to the difficulty of concluding the series, especially one where many resolutions have been anticipated for so long. This book also stands alone less well than The Gathering Storm, which is not a surprise given that the next volume is the last and that it is effectively the middle book in the concluding trilogy.

To conclude my list of things that make me feel a little removed from the book as a whole, I think neither Jordan nor Sanderson is the writer to pull off the characterization of Rand in this book. I can see the logic behind it, but I don’t feel it emotionally, because it’s a heck of a difficult thing to convey and that level of delicacy is not something I associate with either of them.

All that said (and note I am very, very busy and sleep-deprived right now): there was a lot of really good stuff in this book. I don’t want to get too specific here, but I was very pleased with various character developments, I sniffled on occasion, I was genuinely surprised at some points [**] and creeped out at others, and I stayed up too late reading it when I really couldn’t afford to. I’m glad I read it and I’m eager for the last book, though I lean toward recommending that someone wait until next year and read the final two books back-to-back, because I suspect this one might work better that way.

[**] And not just the appearance of a very, very minor character named after me, though that was extremely surprising (and pleasing!) when people told me about it. (Early in Chapter 5, page 104 of the U.S. hardcover; Sanderson was picking some names from a list of charity donors.)

A spoiler post follows.

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Caudwell, Sarah: (01-03) Thus Was Adonis Murdered; The Shortest Way to Hades; The Sirens Sang of Murder (re-read)

This is as good a time as any to note that I re-read the first three of Sarah Caudwell’s novels semi-recently (Thus Was Adonis Murdered, The Shortest Way to Hades, and The Sirens Sang of Murder); I’ve been telling myself that I’ll also re-read the fourth, but I think it’s time to admit that’s not happening any time soon.

I only have a few notes to add to my initial comments. First, I wasn’t quite right when I said that same-sex relationships were unremarked; they are called “unorthodox,” but there’s no hint of a moral dimension to that characterization. Second (and spoilery; ROT-13, see sidebar), va abar bs gur obbxf qbrf n zheqrere tb gb gevny, which I find interesting considering that they were written by a lawyer (and a tax planner, considering the third). And third: no, seriously, why are they all friends with Hilary?

Anyway, still highly delicious. And next time I will re-read the fourth to see how I think it stands in relation to the rest now.

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Hitt, Jack, et al., Perfect Murder, The

So my plan to booklog daily in fifteen-minute increments stopped almost before it began, but I have a book that has to go back to the library tomorrow that I want to quote from, specifically The Perfect Murder, by Jack Hitt with Lawrence Block, Sarah Caudwell, Tony Hillerman, Peter Lovesey, and Donald E. Westlake. I heard about this book when I was enthusing over Sarah Caudwell and a friend said her contributions were terrific.

And so they are. The premise is that a rather insufferable man writes to a bunch of mystery writers asking for advice on how to commit a masterpiece of murder. (I would recommend skimming his initial letter until he starts laying out practicalities, because I nearly sprained my eyes rolling them before then. Yes, I know it’s characterization, that doesn’t mean I enjoy reading it.) Caudwell’s response begins,

My Dear Tim,

Let me say, before we go any further, that I cannot hear of your committing a murder in the United States of America. It is, quite simply, out of the question.

You aspire not merely to murder but to Art, and in any work of art the choice of background is of critical importance. . . .

I should be sorry to offend your patriotic sensibilities—but you do see, don’t you, that the United States simply will not do? In a country where the homicides of a single day are too numerous to be fully reported on the television news—where every schoolchild expects a firearm for the next Christmas or birthday present—where minor disagreements betwen motorists are commonly resolved by an exchange of bullets—in such a country any murder, however interesting or bizarre its incidental features, is doomed to be essentially commonplace.

No, Tim, if you are to achieve distinction you must cross the Atlantic.

I do so adore Sarah Caudwell.

As this might imply, the writers’ responses are, objectively, not to be taken seriously; but within the framework, they manage to convincingly suggest that their emotions and professional pride are involved. Which is a neat trick and which leads to amusements when Tim sends them all each other’s initial responses. I particularly liked Block’s summation of what he expected the other writers to send:

Westlake would enlist the aid of some bumbling criminals, and he’d have all of them try to kill your wife, and they’d all fail, until she died laughing. Lovesey would have her slain in the ring by a bare-knuckled pugilist. Hillerman would dress you up in a feather headdress and have you make a sand painting, calling down the Great Spirit to crush your wife to death in a buffalo stampede. And Caudwell would shuttle you between Lincoln’s Inn and the Isles of Greece, in the company of people named Ragweed and Catnip.

I may never be able to think of Ragwort and Cantrip by their correct names again.

Anyway, I found this entertaining bedtime fluff, and if you like any of the authors in question, it’s worth checking your local library or used bookstore for a copy.

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Novik, Naomi: (06) Tongues of Serpents

Tongues of Serpents is the most recent book in Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series. I enjoyed it, but those who aren’t delighted by the changes Novik is making to 19th-century history are likely to find it harder going.

This is the one where they go to Australia (rather like Empire of Ivory is the one where they go to Africa). The opening section is set in the British colony of New South Wales, which, as Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey-Maturin series had led me to expect, is quite a miserable place. Then there’s an extended travel section, which goes faster the second time around, when I knew that (small spoiler, ROT13) gurl raq hc pebffvat gur ragver pbagvarag, and the denouement.

This book has two terrific reveals, some exciting action scenes, and multiple political/worldbuilding developments that had me wriggling with delight. But it also has a lot of cheerlessness and not much happening, particularly in the middle travel section. And I continue to feel that the secondary characters are underdeveloped. Previously I was thinking that an omniscient viewpoint would help, à la the Aubrey-Maturin books, but now I think that instead, it’s not the type of viewpoint but the choice of viewpoint characters: Laurence and Temeraire are just not going to notice enough to give me a rounded perspective on most of those around them.

Finally, there are three more books in the series. As a result, I don’t mind the emotional state that Laurence is left in, but other people have had different reactions.

In short: it’s a Temeraire book, with a little more of the weaknesses of the series than strengths. If you’ve been reading, that probably tells you enough of what you want to know.

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Duane, Diane: (109) A Wizard of Mars

I’m trying a new tactic on my backlog: a fifteen-minute timer. Most days I can manage fifteen minutes, after all, and even if I can’t dispose of one book in fifteen minutes, I can come back to it the next day.

The first book is one I actually just finished, Diane Duane’s A Wizard of Mars. This is the most recent book in her Young Wizards series and is, as the title suggests, the one in which all the comments about Kit and Nita doing something-or-other on Mars finally resolve into a plot.

This book is doing two things, it seems to me, and unfortunately I don’t care much about either of them. First, it’s considering Mars’ place in Western mythology through, in part, pastiches of classic stories about Mars, and that is not a topic that really grabs me. Second, it’s considering the ever-popular question of exactly what Nita and Kit’s relationship is, which is (a) not something I can bring myself to get worked up about and (b) something that’s been hanging out there since book two or so (this is book nine) and thus feels like something that is past due, already. Which is not really fair, because the series doesn’t span that much time in the characters’ lives, and it’s not the characters’ fault that I’ve been reading about them for at least a decade. Nevertheless.

Exacerbating the problem are the things this book is not doing, naming dealing with Wizards at War in any substantial way. The most obvious is the gaping plot question that Wizards left hanging, but I’m also waiting for a good payoff to Nita’s new abilities, because otherwise the entire series is going to feel massively imbalanced to me.

There are still sense-of-wonder moments and interesting characters and neat worldbuilding bits, but on the whole this wasn’t a book for me.

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Carriger, Gail: Soulless

Gail Carriger’s Soulless, a Victorian steampunk urban fantasy, received a certain amount of favorable comment among people I know, so I ordered it on impulse. This was a mistake: I did finish it out of obligation, but I was disappointed and do not expect to read the rest of the books in the trilogy.

Alexia Tarabotti is, as the title says, soulless. We are assured in chapter one that as a result,

words like I and me were just excessively theoretical for Alexia. She certainly had an identity and a heart that felt emotions and all that; she simply had no soul. . . . If she had no soul, she also had no morals, so she reckoned she had best develop some kind of alternative [by reading Greek philosophy from age six on].

Which doesn’t make very much sense to me, honestly, but the execution could be interesting, so okay. But as the book progresses it seems more that being soulless allows Alexia to be feisty and independent and conveniently modern in her outlook (which is deeply peculiar), and then it seems that soul is simply a quantitative measure of how suspectible one is to being changed into a supernatural creature. (Alexia, having none, can actually negate the supernatural abilities of anyone she touches.) Both of which seem like a waste of potential to me.

The narrative also head-hops distractingly and unnecessarily, a characteristic I associate with bad romance novels, and indeed there is a romance that is so obvious that I found it tedious rather than entertaining. Like I said: disappointing.

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