Author: katenepveu

Posted on

Rowling, J.K.: (05) Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

I said I was going to re-read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, by (of course) J.K. Rowling, before reviewing it properly. And I was going to, honest. But it just sat there and I kept finding excuses to avoid it, and finally I had to admit that it wasn’t going to happen. (And then I got busy and took forever to finish this review. Does anyone really care, at this late date, what I thought of this book? I didn’t think so.)

I had a minor revelation as to why I was avoiding a re-read: Order of the Phoenix is the Teckla of the Harry Potter series.

I suppose I should explain for non-Brust readers. The Vlad Taltos series is told in First-Person Smartass; when the series opens in Jhereg, our narrator is an assassin-for-hire and minor Mafia boss. In Teckla, the third book in publication order, Vlad begins to have moral qualms about the assassin thing. Also, his marriage is falling apart in seriously messy fashion. And in reaction to all that, he is just so wrong, that it’s quite painful to read. However. It’s unquestionably a necessary book and an important turning point in the series. And the series, as a whole, rocks.

Order of the Phoenix is (hopefully) like that: painful but necessary. It’s not quite as painful as Teckla because it’s third person, not first, and further the third isn’t that tight. (This is something I’d noticed in prior books; I don’t get nearly as much sense of Harry’s personality from the narration as for Bujold’s characters, for instance. Chad’s suggested that this may be partly a genre thing, citing Will in Susan Cooper’s Dark Is Rising series as another example; I don’t know about that, but I offer it for your consideration.) However, our point-of-view character still spends most of the book mired in unhappiness and anger—and doing painfully stupid things as a result. Which makes it hard to read.

It’s also a remarkably claustrophobic book, considering its length. There are two distinct plot threads running through the book, one with Voldemort and one with the Ministry; these don’t really come together, but I think that’s acceptable as we’re in much more of a continuing story now, one that’s no longer confined to Hogwarts. However, because of the limitations of third-person POV and Harry’s own self-centeredness, we end up knowing very little about events outside Hogwarts once Harry gets to school. This claustrophobia also points out another way in which Harry is wrong: one of the strongest themes of the book is the consequences of insularity. In fact, from what we learn in this book, I think it’s reasonable to say that the overarching conflict in the series is tolerance and cooperation versus slavery and genocide. Worryingly, many of the secondary conflicts introduced in this book are not yet explicit, never mind resolved; Order of the Phoenix is a more complex book than it appears at first glance, but it also is leaving a lot for the last two books. (The fixed length and format of the series, but the complete lack of hints as to future plots, makes judging the pacing a tricky thing; it’s the old “well, looks like we’re ready for big things to really starting happening” problem. At least I’m confident that the number of books won’t increase, unlike some other Big Name Authors . . . )

I think the pacing of the book is generally better than Goblet of Fire, though I haven’t read that one recently. The pre-Hogwarts section of this one is, upon reflection, somewhat too long; there is a reason for it to be there, but I think it could have been shorter and still made the same point. Otherwise, though, we only see very little of the usual distraction of everyday Hogwarts life, which streamlines the plot but heightens the bleak atmosphere. A minor diversion is Harry’s relationship with Cho. Some people vehemently insist these few scenes are childish and unrealistic; this attitude frankly baffles me, as I thought they were absolutely spot-on depictions of adolescent awkwardness. Another subplot, involving Hagrid, I found considerably less successful, except perhaps on a thematic level (and even that I’m not sure of). As far as the main plots, they climax in a tense and furiously exciting few chapters that had me on the edge of my metaphorical seat. I was most impressed.

The ending (1) answers some questions while raising many others, and (2) makes me considerably worried for Harry. Another way this book is like Teckla is that it deliberately, systematically, and thoroughly knocks away the protagonist’s supports, leaving him bereft and isolated (and angry, don’t forget angry). The book also sets up new supports for Harry, particularly in its development of some secondary characters (go Neville! Ahem.), but it is an open question whether he will take them.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is hardly a perfect book, and considering that my one-word opinion was “bleak,” back in June when people were asking, I can’t exactly say I enjoyed it. But I have to admire the increasingly complex explorations of character, morality, and consequences, and I also have to admire Rowling for daring to take the series in this direction. And only a well-crafted book could have me so worried about the futures of its characters. I will be eagerly awaiting the next, however many years from now it comes out.

(If this sounds somewhat disjointed, it may be because I’m trying to talk around spoilers. If you want my spoiler thoughts, try my LiveJournal.)

3 Comments

Posted on

Brust, Steven: (203) The Paths of the Dead (re-read)

(These two entries are out of chronological order; I wanted to get them out in a timely fashion, so I will fill in other books as I get around to logging them.)

I re-read The Paths of the Dead, by Steven Brust (prior booklog entry), in preparation for reading the next book in the series, The Lord of Castle Black (see below). On a re-read, I find that it is still an immensely fun and smooth ride, and I’m more curious than ever if it would be a good place to start reading the Khaavren books for someone who’s only read the Vlad series to date. Anyone have empirical evidence to report on the last question?

I noted several other things about this book, but likely they are only of interest to someone who’s read it. Thus, I’ve posted them to rec.arts.sf.written (Google link) and spared you my blather here. It should be out in paperback now or very soon; go out and buy it now so that you can read The Lord of Castle Black when it comes out in a couple of weeks.

2 Comments

Posted on

Brust, Steven: (204) The Lord of Castle Black

Steven Brust’s The Lord of Castle Black is, I can now say, the second part of the longer work The Viscount of Adrilankha, rather than the second book in a trilogy. Why can I now say this? Because in the Preface, Paarfi (our historian narrator) informs us that “As for the entire question of splitting the book into several volumes, the author will not pretend to more knowledge than he has; if it is the custom of those who publish such works to make such mutilations, for whatever reason, then so be it. Nevertheless, it is a single work, and the suggestions that there may be some who possess only a part of it strikes the author as creating an intolerable situation for the reader.” (The reader, note.)

Paarfi, in his inimitable style, goes on to explain at length why he abhors the idea of writing a summary of the previous volume; however, since his publishers haven’t listened to him, well, here it is.

I’ve missed Paarfi.

I’ve also missed our friends, the protagonists of this series (I’ve spent enough time with them, over the four thick volumes to date, that I do think of them this way). When we left them at the end of Paths, Zerika had brought the Orb out of the Paths, but most of the characters were scattered. The titles of the two books comprising this volume summarize the general plot arc admirably: “In Which the Forces Are Brought Together That Lead Up to the Ninth (or Tenth) Battle of Dzur Mountain,” and “In Which the Ninth (or Tenth) Battle of Dzur Mountain Is Fought, With Some Discussion of Its Results.”

Battles of Dzur Mountain or no, the characters don’t get lost in the shuffle. As the title of this volume suggests, we see a considerable amount of Morrolan’s development in this volume, which seems largely consistent with what we know from the Vlad books (lest readers unfamiliar with the series think I’m accusing Brust of being prone to inconsistency—not in the least. It’s Paarfi (and Vlad, for that matter) whose accuracy is often open to question.). I shall particularly treasure the chapter where he goes to Dzur Mountain seeking tribute; that neither Morrolan nor Sethra would have told Paarfi the details of this, makes it no less amusing.

Speaking of titular characters, unexpected developments are afoot for Piro, the Viscount of Adrilankha, and his friends; I look forward to seeing how these play out in the final volume, Sethra Lavode (undergoing revisions as of July 17, 2003, according to the author’s no-permalinks web log). And there appear a number of characters from Khaavren books prior to Paths, or from the Vlad books, whose presences are certain to provoke much speculation. The four characters who began the series, Khaavren, Aerich, Tazendra, and Pel, are not neglected, as they all meet again for the first time in hundreds of years, with results that I shall leave it to you to read about. I must, however, note that I remain very fond of Tazendra and am always pleased when she gets a good moment; she has several in this volume.

[ Speaking of Khaavren, I am unable to resist quoting this bit of dialogue, which made me laugh out loud:

“They spoke of us.”

“Did they?” said Khaavren. “I am not startled. I ought to have noticed the back of my neck itching. My mother always said that if the back of your neck itches, someone is speaking ill of you.”

“Yes? I had not heard this. What if the back of your neck, rather than itching, hurts?”

“That means someone has stuck a knife into your neck.”

(I’ve elided the name of the second speaker; it’s probably not a spoiler, but I hesitated to say even as much about the plot as I have, so . . . ) ]

The story moves along smoothly, and even during the period where the forces are being brought together, it’s quite clear where everyone is and what everyone is doing; for someone as spatially disoriented as I, that’s saying something. And while we know that eventually the Empire is restored, we know so little else about Dragaeran history immediately after the Interregnum, that there’s plenty of suspense as to how we’re going to get there. There are hints dropped at the end of this volume that very different kinds of struggles may be at hand in volume three; I’m not sure what’s in store, but I’m very eager to find out.

One final note. The jacket copy (at Amazon) is so perfect that I must quote it:

Journeys! Intrigues! Sword fights! Young persons having adventures! Beloved older characters having adventures, too! Quests! Battles! Romance! Snappy dialogue! Extravagant food! And the missing heir to the Imperial Throne!

Yay, Brust.

The Lord of Castle Black will be published in August. Go buy it when it comes out.

[ Edited August 11, 2003, when published version arrived. ]

7 Comments

Posted on

White, James: (07-08) General Practice (omnibus of Code Blue—Emergency and The Genocidal Healer)

James White’s General Practice is a Sector General omnibus that collects the previous out-of-print Code Blue—Emergency and The Genocidal Healer. (Tor has now published the entire Sector General series: all the books after this omnibus were originally published by Tor, and all the books before are in the two prior collections, Beginning Operations and Alien Emergencies. They do good work.) To round off the one-word summaries, this is “benevolent”—no surprise, since that applies just as well to all the rest of the Sector General stories.

These are the first books to be told from the viewpoint of non-Earth-human characters. Indeed, they’re also the first books to not focus primarily or exclusively on Conway, who was made a Diagnostician at the end of the prior book. Code Blue—Emergency also features our first female protagonist, Cha Thrat, who goes to Sector General in part to escape institutional sexism on her home planet—only to run into Sector General’s unique institutional sexism regarding Educator tapes, an irony that appears to be lost on both the author and the male characters. (Not the least because it’s demonstrably wrong, though no-one seems to notice.)

The book does a better job than I expected of managing Cha Thrat’s point-of-view, avoiding blatant infodumping in her personal thoughts and letting her personality and cultural background unfold slowly. Like prior novels, it is structured in a somewhat episodic fashion; the overall arc is Cha Thrat exploring Sector General and finding her place. Satisfyingly done.

The Genocidal Healer is talky, philosophical, angsty, and possibly my favorite Sector General book. (I’d read it before, actually just before I started this log.) This is the story of Lioren, a Tarlan Surgeon-Captain who makes a terrible mistake out of ambition, pride, impatience, and arrogance, and opens the book demanding the death penalty for nearly wiping out an entire species. Instead, he’s sentenced to Sector General.

I think this is the first book where we’ve seen a serious mistake made—we’ve come close before, but out of well-intentioned inabilities to make Conway-sized deductive leaps. And much more than any prior book, this is about the internal journey of a character: Lioren is suffering under a crushing weight of guilt, and coming to terms with his actions takes a considerable amount of self-reflection and emotional growth. In another first for Sector General, this is also a very spiritual book (presented in a way that I, thoroughly secular creature though I am, did not find offensive). And there’s also a good medical puzzle to keep the suspense up.

Anyone who likes fabulous flights of imagination, thoroughly grounded in a respect for humanity in the broadest sense of the word, should really read the Sector General series. They are comfort books par excellence and I am greatly pleased to have finally read all of them.

No Comments

Posted on

Wrede, Patricia C., and Caroline Stevermer: (01) Sorcery and Cecelia, or, the Enchanted Chocolate Pot

After The Gnome’s Engine came Sorcery and Cecelia, or, the Enchanted Chocolate Pot, by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer. This book was legendarily hard to find for quite a few years, and happily has now been reprinted in hardcover, with a sequel to come (details at a joint author webpage).

[ Interestingly, it’s been reprinted as a YA, right down to the listing of other books by the authors, which pointedly omits anything that wasn’t marketed as YA. Also, it’s got a new copyright date (2003), with a notice that it was originally printed in 1988 without the subtitle. I don’t see any differences in the text, so I’m a little baffled about giving it a new copyright date, but intellectual property law isn’t my field. ]

I’ve described this book before as “Freedom and Necessity without the Hegel.” I think that’s accurate if a touch flip, but I would be falling down on my book logging responsibilities if I left it at that.

First, this is an epistolary novel. Kate Talgarth has gone to London for the Season, and she corresponds with her cousin Cecelia Rushton, who is stuck at home in Essex. Second, it’s set in England in the 1800s, though about thirty years earlier than F&N; it’s also explicitly an alternate England, as the first letter makes clear; among Cecelia’s talk of parties and calling on the vicarage is this news:

Sir Hilary Bedrick has just been named to the Royal College of Wizards; the whole village is buzzing with the news. I suspect he was chosen because of that enormous library of musty old spellbooks at Bedrick Hall. He left yesterday for London, where he will be installed, but all of us expect great things when he returns. Except, of course, Aunt Elizabeth, who looks at me sideways and says darkly that magic is for heathens and cannibals, not for decent folk.

Yes indeed, we are in a Regency romance novel with magic (the same universe as Wrede’s Mairelon books). Kate goes to Sir Hilary’s investiture, goes through a little side door, and finds herself confronted with a perfectly horrible woman named Miranda, who thinks that Kate is actually someone named Thomas in disguise and tries to make her drink suspicious hot chocolate. Meanwhile, Cecy meets a new girl with an evil Stepmama who is, you guessed it, Miranda; and just what is Miranda’s relationship with Sir Hilary, anyway?

The plot of this is lovely and frothy, but it’s the narrators that really make it work. If The Gnome’s Engine was “genteel,” this is, quite simply, “charming.” For instance, Thomas seeks Kate out to thank her for springing Miranda’s trap. They naturally have further encounters, such as Thomas’s saving both her and, later, her cousin Oliver from being turned into trees:

“That’s part of the second reason I came here. You will agree you owe me some slight favor for rescuing you and your cod’s head of a cousin? I wish to make you an offer.”

I nodded as intelligently as I could and said, “Very well, I am very grateful to you for recovering dear, stupid Oliver. What sort of an offer?”

Thomas regarded me with an air of disbelief. “An offer of marriage, my dear half-wit. What other sort of offer did you expect?”

Cecy, I do think it is unfair. People in novels are fainting all the time, and I never can, no matter how badly I need to. Instead, I stared at him for what seemed like years, with the stupidest expression on my face, I’m sure, because I felt stupid. For I couldn’t imagine why he should say such an extraordinary thing. Finally I realized he was waiting for me to say something.

I said, “I can’t imagine why you should say such an extraordinary thing.”

Her cousin Cecelia is also excellent company, much inclined to saying things like “We simply must do something!” and then, well, doing it.

[ Aside: There is a conspicuous absence of parents in this, which I suppose is a point in favor of YA classification. Cecelia’s mother is dead, and she mentions her a few times; her father is immersed in his studies. Kate mentions her father just once, who appears to be dead; she doesn’t mention her mother at all that I can see. If I have the family tree right, Cecelia’s father had three sisters: Kate’s mother, Aunt Charlotte, and Aunt Elizabeth. What happened to Kate’s parents? ]

The only flaw in Sorcery and Cecelia is that I can’t re-read it too often. It’s quite short, and I’ve found if I try to read it too soon after the last time, everything’s too familiar and I can’t get into it. (Okay, another possible flaw: I’m not really clear how the Horrible Hollydean was involved.) It’s guaranteed to make me smile, which is why I’ve made the attempt. It’s amusing without being saccharine, light without being insubstantial, romantic without being sappy, and just plain fun. Highly recommended.

7 Comments

Posted on

Edgerton, Teresa: (02) The Gnome’s Engine

Being June 22, yes, I’ve read the new Harry Potter (spoiler-filled first thoughts on my LiveJournal). However, I thought I would clear the decks, so to speak, on the book log, by catching up on the backlog before starting the slow and detailed re-read that will inevitably spawn enormous posts here and on the LJ.

[split for import into MT; hit “next” at the bottom of this post]

First up is Teresa Edgerton’s The Gnome’s Engine, which is the sequel to Goblin Moon. At the end of that book, our protagonists were heading for the New World to flee their several enemies. This book opens a year later; our protagonists have spent the year getting established and getting the idea for the titular machine, but otherwise not much has changed: villains still searching, True Loves still separated by circumstance, etc.

This is kind of an odd book. The plot takes a while to get going, there are some plot threads whose relationship to the overall plot is rather ambiguous, and the end-of-book confrontation is distinctly anti-climactic. The best word I can think to describe it is “genteel”; it meanders along, with bad things presented in a non-bleak tone, and at the end everyone picks up their toys and cordially goes home. I think I liked it, but again, it was odd.

No Comments

Posted on

Dyer, S.N.: “Resolve and Resistance”

I also recently read another short story that deserves mention here: “Resolve and Resistance,” by S.N. Dyer (collected in The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror: Ninth Annual Collection, edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling. This came to my attention in a comment thread elsewhere on this book log. It’s an alternative-universe sequel to Pride and Prejudice, in which Napoleon has won and Lord Nelson is a crippled beggar in Hyde Park. A Norfolkman recognizes Nelson and whispers to him, “Darcy. Pemberley,” giving him a purpose and a destination.

Nelson is crushed to arrive at Pemberley and discover that Mr. Darcy was killed by the French and that the Bennett sisters appear to be collaborators. Of course, the “Darcy” referred to was actually Elizabeth; the Bennett sisters are running the resistance in their area, and have a plan to invade London.

I really enjoyed this, though it’s somewhat different than described in the aforementioned comments thread (most notably, no Caroline Bingley)—up to the very end. I found the last section absolutely infuriating. The shortest way to explain why is its opening line: “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in possession of the gratitude of her nation must be in want of a husband.” Which it takes seriously!

A hint for aspiring writers: contrary to what many appear to believe, it is not actually necessary to end your story by marrying everyone off, particularly when doing so will require you to completely ignore your characters’ personalities as they have been established to date.

If you just stop reading at the end of the invasion, you’ll be fine. Pretend the rest doesn’t exist.

3 Comments

Posted on

Macdonald, James D., and Debra Doyle: (02) “Selling the Devil”

“I’d come to New York on business, switching out fabric samples from the Shroud of Turin so that the scientists who were doing the tests would declare it a fake and give it a rest.”

Ah, another Peter Crossman story, namely “Selling the Devil”, by Debra Doyle and James Macdonald, in On Crusade: More Tales of the Knights Templar. This is actually the middle Crossman short story, but acquiring this anthology was surprisingly difficult. All the local bookstores and several online retailers claimed they didn’t have copies, and when I finally ordered it online from Barnes & Noble, I got the right exterior, but an interior of Evelyn Waugh’s Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold (of all things). B&N lost my replacement copy, and I only got the second last week.

As the title suggests, this story revolves around a claimed attempt to raise a demon before a paying audience. On the surface, it looks like simple get-rich-quick fakery—but why the new, ornate, chalice, and old, plain, sword? Crossman’s instincts tell him something more sinister is going on, and when he finds the bodies, well, he realizes that he’s right.

Start with The Apocalypse Door if you haven’t read a Peter Crossman story before, but if you encounter a copy of this anthology, definitely worth reading.

No Comments

Posted on

Pratchett, Terry: (30) The Wee Free Men

I know I said I was going to read the sequel to Goblin Moon next, but when I said that, I didn’t know that there was a new Terry Pratchett novel out, namely The Wee Free Men—and I drop everything for a new Pratchett book.

I hadn’t realized this had already been published, and came across it by accident while browsing the YA section of my local Borders. (It was running a “buy two, get a third for 50% off” sale. New Westlake, new Pratchett, Teresa Edgerton’s latest, present for someone else, Michael Chabon-edited anthology, and a relatively non-offensive edition of I Capture the Castle. And elsewhere, Sherwood Smith’s Crown Duel. Yay, books.) It didn’t appear in the SF section at all, so if you have trouble finding this, check the YA section. (And then buy Sorcery and Cecilia while you’re there—but that’s another post.)

As I’ve said before, Pratchett’s YAs are basically the same as his adult novels except that they’re shorter, darker, and have chapters. I think of The Wee Free Men as Lords and Ladies II: The Next Generation. The Queen of Faerie is still trying to push her way into reality, because, well, that’s what she does; this time the witch facing her down is not Granny Weatherwax of Lancre, but nine-year-old Tiffany Aching of the Chalk. The title refers to her allies, a clan of the Nac Mac Feegle (pictsies; they’re six inches high, paint themselves blue, and spent all their time drinking, swearing, stealing, or fighting).

One of the things I particularly like about this book is Tiffany’s relationship with her grandmother, recently deceased and one of the two former witches of the Chalk. (The other is dying as the book opens, which is why the Chalk is vulnerable to the Queen’s incursions.) The book uses flashbacks heavily to portray this relationship, which is comforting, loving, and yet filled with awkward moments and unspoken regrets; I found the portrayal realistic and refreshing.

It’s that relationship, and the sense of place and history that are bound up in it, that keep this book from being just a rehash of Lords and Ladies. Yes, much of the action takes place in Fairyland, which is a first for the Discworld, and the Nac Mac Feegle have a somewhat more prominent role—but the natures of witchcraft and the Queen are themes that have already been done in the Discworld books, and without this additional dimension, I think I would find this book somewhat stale.

Okay, except for the Nac Mac Feegle, who I can’t help but find amusing no matter what the context (even if they’d run away from me because I’m a lawyer).

[Tiffany and the clan are going after the Queen, who has stolen Tiffany’s brother.]

“Why’re we stopping? Why’re we stopping here? We’ve got to catch her!”

“Got to wait for Hamish, mistress,” said Rob Anybody.

“Why? Who’s Hamish?”

“He might have the knowin’ of where the Quin went with your wee laddie,” said Rob Anybody soothingly. “We canna just rush in, ye ken.”

A big, bearded Feegle raised his hand. “Point ‘o order, Big Man. Ye can just rush in. We always just rush in.”

“Aye, Big Yan, point well made. But ye gotta know where ye’re just gonna rush in. Ye canna just rush in anywhere. It looks bad, havin’ to rush oout again straight awa’.”

Words of wisdom, indeed.

If you like prior Pratchett novels, I recommend picking up this one as well.

[ Also posted to rec.arts.sf.written; the post should show up here in a few hours. ]

9 Comments

Posted on

Edgerton, Teresa: (01) Goblin Moon

Look, a book I liked!

I went looking for Goblin Moon, by Teresa Edgerton, after a positive review of the sequel by Rich Boyé (whose booklog has vanished into 404 oblivion). This is a fantasy of the Regency-with-magic sort, though unlike Patricia Wrede’s Mairelon the Magician and Magician’s Ward, this is set in an imaginary world rather than in an alternate history, if that makes sense.

I really enjoyed this, not the least for its setting. I can’t possibly have liked every fantasy with either a courtly or a city setting, but at the moment, I’m not thinking of a strong counterexample. This book has both, one for each plot thread: on the courtly side, there’s something strange about the afflictions of a sickly society girl; on the city side, a sorceror’s coffin washes up, leading a pair of old friends back into dangerous experiments.

Therein lies the major flaw of the book: it suffers from the “A Plot, B Plot” problem. There are some connections between the two plots, but the main one seems to be that their convergence forces our protagnoists to flee the country at the end of the book, setting up the sequel. It’s possible that this book and its sequel, The Gnome’s Engine, are actually tightly woven together and thus the A and B plots end up being part of the same plot; I don’t know, because I haven’t read the sequel yet. I should add that except for the minor fact of fleeing the country, the book is reasonably well-contained.

The two plots are enjoyable, revealing their information and world-building at a good pace. And the characters populating those plots are good too: not stunningly original, but solidly drawn and engaging. This book is also further proof that I really do have a weakness for Lymond-types (in fiction only, I hasten to add); this one gets off most of the best lines, like

“Lord Skelbrooke . . . what a turn you gave me,” said the little apothecary, but a mischievous twinkle indicated that she had seen through his disguise immediately. “Might one ask what this . . . astounding costume . . . is supposed to portend?”

“Bad men, ill deeds, and (if I am successful) vengeance of no mean order,” said Skelbrooke.

Actually, when I typed that, I heard the Dread Pirate Roberts in my head, but it’s still a great line. There’s also:

“I have killed scores of men,” said Skelbrooke. “And there used to be a practice, among wild young men of good family, to ride the Imbrian countryside in the guise of highwaymen, and rob carriages and mail coaches . . . merely for the thrill of the thing.”

The Duchess was smiling now, a warm intimate smile. He was not certain whether she believed him or not, but at least he was keeping her amused.

“Heavens above!” said the Duchess. “I believe that I have fallen into the hands of a rascal. And tell me this . . . among your other vices, have you perhaps experimented with . . . the more intricate forms of sexual dalliance?”

Skelbrooke shook his head. “You see, I am not yet five and twenty,” he said apologetically. “I thought it wise to save something for later in life, lest I grow too soon bored.”

I just had fun reading this book. I look forward to seeing Skelbrooke, and the rest of our protagonists, in the sequel.

[ And then I will re-read Sorcery and Cecilia in honor of its being reprinted and because it’s also Regency-with-magic; and then I’ll read the Sector General omnibus with the only Sector General novel I haven’t read yet; and then I finally found a copy of The Element of Fire at a reasonable price (yay! But Patrick, if you’re reading this, I still think Tor should re-print it), so I’ll re-read that in celebration; and then there’s the sequel to Deep Secret and the new Bill Bryson; and at the pace I’ve been reading lately, I won’t be through these before the new Harry Potter comes out . . . I’ve pretty well got my reading planned out through the summer. *wists for the days when this list would be two weeks’ worth of reading* ]

[ Also, prompted by certain discussions, I’ve finally got around to trying an RSS feed with just the title of the post. Let’s see if it works. ]

6 Comments