Retellings have been coming out of the woodwork these last several years, with SNOW WHITE being a crowd favorite, butReviewed by: Rabid Reads
4.5 stars
Retellings have been coming out of the woodwork these last several years, with SNOW WHITE being a crowd favorite, but as much as I love fairytales (and I really, really do), there are only so many ways a story can be retold in a short period of time before it gets tired.
Which is why if I'd more carefully read the blurb, I probably wouldn't have requested GIRLS MADE OF SNOW AND GLASS by Melissa Bashardoust . . . And that would have been a mistake.
SEE?? Sometimes my habitual neglect works in my favor.
You: What's so different about this retelling?
Me: So. Many. Things.
I hesitate to call it feminist in nature, b/c I'm a literal person, and feminism--BY DEFINITION--is the opposite of chauvinism. *googles feminism* At least it used to be. The definition appears to have shifted into a more egalitarian meaning, so I guess I do call it feminist in nature.
But not in the heavy-handed way that made me reluctant to brand this lovely story as FEMINIST. *men cower everywhere*
It's about a woman married to a man who doesn't love her the way she deserves to be loved finding her own happiness. It's about a girl refusing to be stifled by expectations.
Lynet smiled and nodded and thanked them until the Pigeons were finished. Perhaps it was flattering to be fussed over, but she knew their fondness wasn’t for her own sake. They loved her mother, and Lynet looked like her mother, so they thought that they loved her, too.
It's about two women, traditionally at odds with each other, finding a way to coexist . . . More than coexist.
And it's so natural, so elegant, it makes you wonder: how am I only hearing this version now?
GIRLS MADE OF SNOW AND GLASS from debut author Melissa Bashardoust is a retelling apart from others. You may think you know this story, of Snow White and her Evil Stepmother, but you would be mistaken. Bashardoust manages to retain the integrity of the original tale, keeping it easily recognizable, while simultaneously turning this often told story on its head. The end result is nothing short of remarkable. Highly recommended.
I wish I could say that I deliberately left STRANGE THE DREAMER unread for months b/c I was saving it for my annual IReviewed by: Rabid Reads
4.5 stars
I wish I could say that I deliberately left STRANGE THE DREAMER unread for months b/c I was saving it for my annual Independence Day beach trip with my sisters, but the truth is that I was a chicken.
You see . . . Laini Taylor is a literary GODDESS, and I am loathe to be disappointed. Fortunately, my crisis of faith was unwarranted, and this book, ye gods, this book is the best I've read this year.
The people of Lazlo Strange's world have two hearts, one that pumps blood, the other spirit. If the spirit heart is damaged or destroyed, a person continues to live, but it is a half-life, devoid of feeling or emotion. It's as though Taylor asked herself, why does one heart have to be the center of both physical life and the metaphysical soul? Why not make it two?
And so she did.
She also created a race a beings with a variety of special abilities that subjugated the people of the city now known as Weep. Where these beings came from has yet to be revealed, but based on the actions of these six, it's not a nice place.
BUT.
That was then and this is now.
And Lazlo has dreamed of finding the wondrous city, known to him only through the stories of a cantankerous monk, since his childhood.
Does he find it?
READ THE BOOK.
I'd apologize for my vagueness, but Taylor spins starlight and cobwebs into beautiful and terrible spun-sugar fairy tales that are best discovered by the individual reader. If you've yet to discover her brand of magic for yourself, get thee to the nearest bookstore--yes, bookstore, b/c this is an author who deserves a place on your ever-dwindling bookshelves.
2. Will the other godspawn lose their blueness if they leave the citadel?
3. What happened to the godspawn after their gifts revealed themselves? Where did they go? Are two hundred years worth of "children"-of-the-gods hidden somewhere? Is it proximity to the blue metal stuff that empowers them? Would they lose their abilities if they left the citadel? (hide spoiler)]...more
The last several fantasy series I've read have all begun excellently, then, at the very least, gone on to have lackluReviewed by: Rabid Reads
4.5 stars
The last several fantasy series I've read have all begun excellently, then, at the very least, gone on to have lackluster second installments . . . so I'll admit . . . I was leery of this book.
And in the beginning, I'd thought my fears justified.
Like BLOOD SONG, it opened with Veniers’ historical account, but after that I was treated to a new POV . . . I bloody hate surprise POV changes. HATE them. And not only was this a new POV, but it was a new previously unknown POV.
*flares nostrils*
Who is this Reva and why should I care? Hmm??
Then came a chapter from Frentis’ POV, which should have been amazing (b/c Frentis), but instead was miserable (b/c slave), and it was only after that that we got back to Vaelin, the sole POV from book 1.
*grumbles*
I'll be honest, it took about 20% for me to engage with the new POVs, and not just b/c surly. The development was slow, even for the characters I already knew.
BUT.
Once I crossed the barrier, boy howdy . . . Ryan has a way of infusing just enough casual humor into horrible situations—tangentially related humor. He doesn't make light of the horror, he just manages to carefully distance you from it, so you don't become overwhelmed.
It's truly a gift.
Like in Veniers’ prelude to Part I. We've just learned that he's been captured and enslaved by the Volarians who are intent on conquering the Unified Realm, and then . . . *cues dramatic music * . . . the WORLD.
But seriously, these are nasty people. Nasty people who know who Veniers is, granting him both a certain usefulness and a certain precariousness of situation: the General of the Volarian army requires that Veniers chronicle his military genius and the inevitable demise of Alltor. If this is not accomplished to General’s satisfaction . . . *raises eyebrows significantly*
So pretty awful, right? BUT:
“Only ever used on land before, but I saw their potential for bringing us victory here. A successful marriage of land and sea warfare. Write that down.”
*snickers*
The expanded world-building was also excellent.
I made a determination recently that my favorite type of fantasy world is the extreme-post-destruction-of-highly-advanced-civilization (think Atlantis) world.
Guess what type of world this one is? *grins*
This time we meet the ancient priestess of one of the tribal peoples who requests Lyrna’s presence on her mountain (*coughs* active volcano *coughs*) and reveals much about the nature of the Enemy.
Then, nearly halfway through, we're reunited with who ended up being one of my favorite characters from BLOOD SONG: (view spoiler)[Nortah! (hide spoiler)] And Ryan reveals his second extraordinary gift, the ability to punch us in the FEELS with a single word: (view spoiler)[Teacher. (hide spoiler)] <------*WAILS*
Beyond that (and in my humble opinion, that is plenty), Ryan managed to shock me, even though I knew—I knew--something terrible was coming: (view spoiler)[Frentis just reached out and snapped the King’s neck. He just . . . grabbed him and snapped it . . . No warning . . . Like a twig and just as easily accomplished. OHMYGAWD! (hide spoiler)]
And finally there's Reva. Yes, that Reva. Much to my chagrin, she became my favorite character. Raised by an abusive zealot priest, she has the unique ability to fight the corrupt priesthood with their own faith.
It's marvelous:
“‘ Only peace and love can reside in a house blessed by the Father’s sight.’” “‘ Turn not your gaze from those in need,’” she countered, calling on the Second Book. “‘ For the Father never will.’ Get out of the way, old man.”
She is a paladin in the truest sense, and I typically don't like paladins. They're boring, rule-following believers. Ugh. BUT. While she is a believer, she is neither boring nor a follower of rules. Plus, when confronted by the Volarians, she meets them blow-for-blow (or decapitation-for-decapitation).
It was glorious. *bloodthirsty-ness sated*
TOWER LORD was a stellar second installment of Anthony Ryan's A RAVEN’S SHADOW series: more heroic characters to love, more monstrous villains to hate (a seriously crazy one, too), more glimpses into the long-fallen civilization whence the enemy sprung, just more. Highly recommended to any fan of fantasy literature.
2/2/20: taking bets now as to whether or not this reread ends with me reading DARK DAWN. #idontreadlastbooks #issues
There seems to be some confusion o2/2/20: taking bets now as to whether or not this reread ends with me reading DARK DAWN. #idontreadlastbooks #issues
There seems to be some confusion on the YA/not YA nature of this book, so let the record show, in response to the question, "Are your books YA or not?" on his website FAQ, Kristoff replied:
THE NEVERNIGHT CHRONICLE is a different beast. The protagonist is a sixteen year old girl. Does that automatically make it YA? My editors say “Definitely not, and who the hell let you out of your cage? Get back to work”.
These books are about an assassin. They are, as you may expect, somewhat violent as a result. They also have sex scenes (and now I have to contemplate the fact that my mother is going to read them *shudders*). I’d rate them MA (or NA if you prefer) and describe them as “crossover books”. But they’ll be found in the adult Fantasy section of your bookstore.
Sometimes you stumble across a book, and, for whatever reason, your expectations are low. Could be the harlequin mask on the cover, could be a previous series by the same author that you were wholly uninterested in, could be a billion different things that are individually insignificant, but cumulatively . . . You turn up you nose.
O, gentlefriends . . . Do not do unto yourselves the same disservice I almost did unto mine . . . self . . . o.O
NEVERNIGHT by Jay Kristoff is . . . exquisite.
I almost didn't read it. Indeed, the release date sneaked up on me, tapped me on the shoulder, and waved hello on Monday afternoon, and I joked to a friend that I should at least update my status on Goodreads and pretend to be reading it . . . Six hours later, it was ten pm, and I was 40% in.
The first chapter was baffling. Told from two seemingly different perspectives, it chronicles two very different firsts, but uses almost the exact same words. I was internally shouting, "WTF is this?!" but I was curious enough see where it led, and the further I got, the closer the two scenarios spun toward completion, and then it was over, and I saw what he'd done . . .
In Jabberwocky, Lewis Carroll turned the English language on its head. He used nonsense words that were decipherable because of his expert manipulation of sentence structure and other, real words that made the meanings of his imaginary words obvious.
For the first time since I really understood and appreciated what Carroll had wrought, I felt the same kind of glee as I read about a girl losing her virginity and a girl taking her first life. One experience held the potential for the creation of a new life, the other bringing an irrevocable end to a life, and yet . . . He used . . . The same words.
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Riddikulus writing skills aside, the story was also fantastic.
What's my #1 complaint about assassins in YA fiction?
You: You may have mentioned something about reluctant assassins a time or three.
Me: Damn right.
You: Not a problem here?
Me: *laughs maniacally*
People often shit themselves when they die. Their muscles slack and their souls flutter free and everything else just…slips out. For all their audience’s love of death, the playwrights seldom mention it. When the hero breathes his last in the heroine’s arms, they call no attention to the stain leaking across his tights, or how the stink makes her eyes water as she leans in for her farewell kiss. I mention this by way of warning, O, my gentlefriends, that your narrator shares no such restraint.
Duly noted, Mr. Narrator, sir.
And lest you be scared off by visions of graphic and violent death . . . I won't lie, that is part of this story. But only part:
She’s dead herself, now—words both the wicked and the just would give an eyeteeth smile to hear. A republic in ashes behind her. A city of bridges and bones laid at the bottom of the sea by her hand. And yet I’m sure she’d still find a way to kill me if she knew I put these words to paper. Open me up and leave me for the hungry Dark. But I think someone should at least try to separate her from the lies told about her. Through her. By her. Someone who knew her true. A girl some called Pale Daughter. Or Kingmaker. Or Crow. But most often, nothing at all. A killer of killers, whose tally of endings only the goddess and I truly know. And was she famous or infamous for it at the end? All this death? I confess I could never see the difference. But then, I’ve never seen things the way you have. Never truly lived in the world you call your own. Nor did she, really. I think that’s why I loved her.
*goosebumps*
Mia Covere's tale reminded me a bit of Arya Stark's: a girl whose family is destroyed by politics and hands grasping at power, stumbles into a follower of a most murderous god(dess), and becomes his apprentice. But Mia is more than just a girl . . . She's a girl with a shadow dark enough for two.
You: WTF does that mean?
Me: READ THE BOOK.
And how many Guardians of the Galaxy fans do we have? B/c the coolest part of that movie was the black market space station that was the HEAD OF A CELESTIAL BEING, am I right?
Well, Mia grew up in Godsgrave, which just might be where the rest of the body fell . . . Okay, it's probably a different being entirely, but the concept is the same, and it's friggin' awesome:
To the north, the Ribs rose hundreds of feet into the ruddy heavens, tiny windows staring out from apartments carved within the ancient bone. Canals ran out from the hollow Spine . . .
My only words of caution are that, if you haven't already cottoned on, there is SEX in this YA novel, which isn't as uncommon as it used to be, but isn't yet unremarkable. And I'm not talking fade-to-black acknowledgment of sexual congress, I'm talking burn-your-ears, think-interesting thoughts-about-the-hands-that-penned-them sex scenes.
FYI.
Kristoff calls Mia an assassin who is to death what a maestro is to a symphony, but I felt the same way about Kristoff's manipulation of words and language. Whether Mia slipped into a room like a knife between the ribs or we met a man whose face was more scar than face, this reader felt like she was being spun and tossed by a master. In NEVERNIGHT, Solis might be the Shahiid of Songs, but it was Jay Kristoff who made me dance to the music of his story in ways I've rarely been moved. O so ridiculously highly recommended.
I'm probably going to horrify a lot of Fantasy lovers by saying this, but . . . I was not a huge fan of THE LIES OF LReviewed by: Rabid Reads
4.5 stars
I'm probably going to horrify a lot of Fantasy lovers by saying this, but . . . I was not a huge fan of THE LIES OF LOCKE LAMORA by Scott Lynch. And believe me, no one was more surprised by that than I was. At the time this review was written, it had a 4.28 average rating on Goodreads, based on nearly 75k readers.
That's nuts.
Additionally, the second highest category (after fantasy) the book was shelved on was Adventure, and 25% of readers also shelved it as Crime. And people . . . it is a truth universally acknowledged that Adventure + Crime = HEIST.
And maybe there was a heist. I honestly don't know, b/c I was too bored to get there.
YES. It was clever. YES. It was beautifully written. NO. It did not hold my attention, and it wasn't an issue of too many details, b/c I THRIVE on details.
It just wasn't what I was expecting, and the difference between reality and expectation was so great that the two could not be reconciled. *shrugs*
There is a reason why I'm yammering on about THE LIES OF LOCKE LAMORA when I'm supposed to be reviewing THE PALACE JOB by Patrick Weekes, and that reason is THE PALACE JOB was exactly what I was expecting THE LIES OF LOCKE LAMORA to be: a laugh-out-loud high fantasy heist.
And it didn't sacrifice depth to slapstick comedy either. Rather than separating the humor from the detail, which is what I felt happened in that other one, Weekes combined the two, and as is often the case, the whole was greater than the parts.
Take the political commentary that happens throughout the book via puppets (yes, puppets---you can say a lot with a puppet that you can't say as a person b/c sedition). The two main factions are represented by fantastical creatures, and when our heroine is looking for information, the puppeteer asks her:
"Tell me, if you don't mind . . . which do you favor? The griffin or the manticore?" Loch looked at the griffin, an eagle's head and wings on a lion's body, and the manticore, a lion with bat wings and a scorpion's tail.
"Funny thing, Yeshki. You get right down to it, they're both mostly big cats."
*stands* *ovates* (<------it's a word if I say it's a word)
But cleverness is not enough to make a stellar heist novel. It also needs a fantastic cast of characters.
Like a wizard of questionable morals:
"Mister Hessler?" "Yes, Dairy?" "Are you a good wizard?" . . . "Do you mean good as in ethical or good as in capable, Dairy?"
A #2 who takes pride in his less-than-reputable work (and can tell "your mom" jokes in at least three different languages):
"I'm just saying, as someone who occasionally rigs fights, I'm offended by the lack of professionalism."
A flexible ascetic:
"Do you radiate cold magic when you punch people?" Kail asked. "I do not engage in physical combat," Icy replied, taking a bite from his vegetable plate, "and I possess no elemental magic ability." "Then why Icy Fist?" "It is short for 'Indomitable Courteous Fist,' which is my full name." "That's significantly less cool, Icy."
And a unicorn who only lets virgins ride her in a decidedly different context than most people are familiar with, a sentient, if incoherent war hammer, a love/death priestess, and a virgin:
"No alcohol for the boy," said Desidora. "Kun-kabynalti osu fiur'is," mutterd Ghylspwr. "Because he's sixteen," Desidora insisted. "Kail, you will not give him alcohol. Do I make myself clear?" Her hair darkened perceptibly. "You just had to play the death priestess card." Kail grunted. "Fine. Virgin for the kid." "Virgin," said Ululenia, smiling dreamily, her horn shining brightly on her pale forehead. "Mmm." Dairy blushed.
Among others. *snickers*
And of course there's also the requisite Bad Guy who comes equipped with puns and henchmen:
The airship hit another building and lost most of its aft section. Loch dropped her knife and clung to a flailing rope as the deck slid out from under her, and she felt open air yawning sickeningly beneath her dangling legs.
"Reached the end of your rope, Loch?"
I could give you more details, but you already know the basics, and the basics are all you need. The Palace Job was so thoroughly entertaining that the only reason it wasn't a 5.0 star read is b/c it had a slow start. BUT. Once I hit the 18% mark, it was action and hilarity from that point forward. SO. If you like clever things, fantasy, heists and the criminal masterminds that plan them, I strongly recommend you discover this hidden gem for yourself. It might just be the most quotable book I've ever read.
Okay, clearly, I loved SOUNDLESS, but ever since I finished reading it and posted a pre-preview, I've heard over anB/c curiosity will one day kill me:
Okay, clearly, I loved SOUNDLESS, but ever since I finished reading it and posted a pre-preview, I've heard over and over again, "This is the first highly rated review I've seen for this book."
That wasn't surprising to me. I'm often a black sheep. Whatev. I like what I like, and I don't what I don't.
But for unfathomable reasons, I scanned a half dozen of the MEH to WTF-is-this-crap? reviews today, and now I feel the need to elaborate.
The common complaints are: it's boring, it's poorly crafted, and it's about as Chinese as Disney is Grimm.
Personally, that last one is a selling point for me. I'm bored to tears by Chinese literature/folklore, and before you decide to tar and feather me over that statement, you should know I also hate, loathe, despise and abominate American literature.
So don't get pissy. It's nothing personal. I just can't relate, generally speaking.
That being said, there was a distinctly Chinese feel to this tale, but it was . . . wait for it . . . SUBTLE.
If you don't appreciate the above irony, or worse, you think it's lame, you probably won't like this book for the same reasons the others didn't.
Continuing backwards, I don't think SOUNDLESS was poorly crafted. I think it was deliberately vague b/c FOLK STORY. That's what this is, incidentally. A new one, which, yeah, is different, but the model is the same, and folk stories are not known for their specificity.
They're supposed to apply to Everyman.
But there was a beauty in Mead's simplicity. And if you, like me, were raised on fairy tales and such, I think you will also see that beauty.
Back to this being a folk story, it's important to know this is not a full-fledged fantasy novel. It's less than 300 pages long, and you should know that going into it, lest you have unrealistic expectations.
I don't think I need to bother with the claim that it's boring. Hopefully, by now, you'll have a pretty good idea as to whether you'll like it or not. I will agree it's not for everyone. If you're uncertain, be safe and try the preview chapters first.
That is all.
One more thing . . . It irks the fire out of me when someone reviews a book they did not finish reading without acknowledging that they did not finish it. It's misleading at best and deliberately deceptive at worst.
For example, someone who had finished the book would know exactly why everyone in Fei's village is deaf and going blind. #thatisall #forrealthistime
It's one thing to cerebrally acknowledge that the heroes of stories are brave . . .
But when an author is able to capture that bravery, the fearlessness in the face of adversity, the lack of self when others face harm or death if they remain ignorant to newly discovered information . . . That is the foundation of a truly great book, and that is exactly what Richelle Mead has done in SOUNDLESS.
Fei and her people have lived on the top of their mountain for generations. Hundreds of years ago, they also lived and farmed the fertile valleys beyond the mountain pass, but an avalanche blocked the pass, and ever since they have been dependent on the line keeper.
The line keeper sends food and supplies via zip cord, which has always been there and leads no-one-knows where.
But the line keeper only sends the supplies in exchange for the metal mined on the mountain top, and when the villagers begin to lose their sight in addition to their widespread and complete loss of hearing (also generations ago--no one on the mountain even knows what sound is), and they begin to send less and less ore, the line keeper sends less and less food.
It's only fair.
As an artist, it is Fei's job to record the daily life, to preserve the history in text and picture, to capture the growing crowd of beggars who have lost their sight and have never had sound. Beggars who can do nothing but sit in silent darkness, slowly starving, waiting for handouts from a dwindling food supply.
Fei is to observe, never interfere. She is separate from the lower working classes of miners and servants.
Except Fei herself grew up in a mining family. The boy she loved but can never marry (Li Wei) is a miner still. And when her sister, the last surviving member of her family, begins to lose her sight, Fei can no longer simply observe . . . So when an avoidable tragedy claims the life of Li Wei's father and he decides to climb down the mountain and confront the line keeper, Fei decides to go with him.
Something must change.
What follows is an incredible journey of discovery. Of life off the mountain. Of lies and abuse. Of kernels of truth in old stories. Of determination and hope and perseverance. Of new beginnings.
And it is truly lovely.
SOUNDLESS by Richelle Mead is her greatest work to date and completely unlike anything else she's ever written. An instant classic, it deserves shelf space in every library, every home, and should be told and retold to audiences of all ages. I don't know if it's a new version of an old story or an entirely new tale based on the Chinese folklore that inspired it . . . Either way, it's as beautiful as is it timeless. Highly recommended.
Pre-review:
I read this in like . . . 4 hours? Maybe 5? And I loved it. So much.
This is unlike anything else by Mead that I've ever read (and I've read most of her stuff).
It made me feel EVERYTHING, but in the end . . . I was just . . .
Last year in DREAMER'S POOL we met Blackthorn and Grim, who quickly became two of my new favorite characters.
They are both wonderfully horribly broken, but that mutual brokenness is what made them so compatible.
As friends, as cohorts, as travel companions . . .
Blackthorn, fueled by her implacable hatred of the man who took everything from her, quickly stole the spotlight--not only is she a healer, a position regarded with respect, she is the more forthright of the two. She may be surly and taciturn, but if something needs to be said, Blackthorn is the one to say it.
Grim was the strong back for lifting heavy objects. He took odd jobs, performing manual labor for various townspeople, and when he spoke, he used as few words as possible.
Obviously, there was more to him than that, but he was inarguably the Robin to Blackthorn's Batman.
And he's perfectly happy there. Or as happy as a man like him is capable of being happy.
This time around, Grim, still silent, still steady, burrowed so deeply into my heart that he's still there, months after I first read this book.
I can't think of him without a corresponding ache.
Marillier so brilliantly captured his patience, his selflessness, his calm acceptance of his perceived lack of any real usefulness, and his belief that one day--it's only a matter of time--Blackthorn will get tired of him, and send him on his way, worthless sod that he is.
It hurts. Ye gods, it hurts.
But it hurts the way it hurts to look at Chihuly glass in the sunlight or heathered fields in Virginia. It hurts b/c it's so damn beautiful.
In TOWER OF THORNS, Blackthorn and Grim are once more thrust into the strangeness that goes hand-in-hand with fey creatures and magic.
A woman has come to court begging Prince Oran for assistance. Her land and her people are plagued by a creature in a tower. It howls in agony from sunup to sundown every single day. The tower is surrounded by a hedge of impenetrable thorns, and all attempts to get through them result in injury and death.
Marillier spins her story so deftly that you wonder if you've heard it before. But no, it's not possible---you have no idea what's going to happen, and yet . . . it feels so familiar.
B/c it is the quintessential fairytale. There are secrets and selfishness, harsh truths and consequences. But there is also peace and forgiveness and a path out of the shadows onto a sunlit road.
You only have to step out of the darkness.
TOWER OF THORNS by Juliet Mariller is bloody fantastic. As much as I loved DREAMER'S POOL--and I did love it--this second installment of BLACKTHORN AND GRIM has taken up residence inside me, it's now part of me, and I will make a nuisance of myself, pushing it on everyone b/c you NEED to experience it for yourself.
Tied with Uprooted by Naomi Novik for my favorite book of 2015.
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Pre-Review:
You know . . . this has been a ridiculously good book year. Even with the myriad disappointments, the good ones have been so bloody good that the others just sort of . . . fade away.
I honestly can't tell you whether I like this one or Uprooted best.
Same kind of dark fairy tale. Same kind of anachronistic main character pairing. Same overwhelming beauty, but two completely different tales. GAH.
Just trust me and make sure you read Dreamer's Pool before this one is released in November.
Do you get feelings about obscure books? You see a cover, hear good things about an author, scan a blurb, and/or are Reviewed by: Rabid Reads
4.5 stars
Do you get feelings about obscure books? You see a cover, hear good things about an author, scan a blurb, and/or are partial to a publisher, so you get a feeling--more of an educated guess, really--and that makes you choose a book that otherwise would have been completely overlooked?
I used to do that fairly regularly. Not so much anymore (b/c no time for that nonsense).
BUT. That's exactly what happened here, and it's the best gamble I've made in a long, long time.
Simply put, BELL WEATHER is a fantasy. But it's a very strange fantasy.
What if when Spain and France and England decided to colonize the Americas they discovered a land saturated with magic? What if the native peoples not only worshipped various aspects of nature, but were so closely tied to them they were an extension of those aspects? What if rain sometimes fell up into the sky, and light sometimes fell like rain?
That's the only way I can think of to describe this world. It's not the Americas and various Europeans are not the settlers, but they walk and talk and quack like colonial Americans . . .
The story opens in the midst of a flood. A flood of flowers. Flowers that may or may not float up from the bottom of the river bed, and they do this at the same time every year.
An annual flower flood.
The river and it's banks are so covered with blossoms that Tom Orange almost doesn't see the unconscious woman in a floral print dress, clinging tenaciously to a tree branch as she is swiftly carried toward the falls that Tom has no hope of her surviving should he not reach her before she goes over.
I felt the urgency, trying to keep pace with Tom as he recklessly rode through bog and trees to rescue the maybe-already-dead-women. I had to stop several times, forcing myself to read more slowly, my eyes continually attempting to dart ahead.
The rescued woman is a mystery.
There are only so many places she could have come from (exactly three), but she claims to have no knowledge of what came before her near drowning. The only thing she seems to know is that her name is Molly.
FUN FACT: the name Molly means "ocean of bitterness" or "RIVER of dissent."
Heh.
Beyond the spectacular world-building and mystery of Molly's origins, BELL WEATHER is fraking hilarious.
Tom owns and manages a tavern. The tavern, in fact, as it's the only one in Root, and Root is the only settlement on the quickest land route (HA!) between the two major settlements on the continent.
His employees include his ran-away-from-home cousin Bess, a mute he has become adept at deciphering, and a crone so old even the elderly of Root can't remember a time when she was young.
An old and superstitious crone:
“Any trouble while I was gone?” “Someone hexed my right hand—I haven’t determined who—and I could not make a fist until I finally guessed the healing word and scrawled it down with ash. Otherwise, no."
An old, superstitious, and rather cantankerous crone:
Tom entered the Orange and bounded up the stairs between the taproom and the parlor, both of which looked empty at a glance, and squinted in the darkness after so much sun. He pressed past his ancient cook, Nabby, who knelt below the landing with a bucket and rags, wiping blood off the steps and angry with him now, not only for his pell-mell approach but for sloshing her water, bumping her head, and tracking mud where she had cleaned the minute before he came. “And break my neck while you’re at it,” Nabby said, “and then you’ll have a broke-neck cook and a poor tongueless wretch and I should like to see you keep an orderly tavern after that.”
Also on the premises is a cat likely as old as the crone:
Tom hesitated, thinking he had made Pitt hiss. Rather it was Scratch, the cat who stalked the Orange. He’d been hiding on a step between the men without a sound and now he crouched, fierce and mangy, and defended his position. He was missing half an ear and had a milky left eye, and his decrepit coat was battle scarred and stank of rotting offal. Scratch vanished and appeared several times a week and threatened man, woman, and child with bites, sprays, scratches, and underfoot tangles that occurred too often not to be intentional. Tom had known the cat since time out of mind. According to Nabby, the oldest woman in Root, Scratch had been around since she was a girl. The sole explanation for the cat’s longevity—excluding the assumption that the creature was demonic—was that every ten or fifteen years for nearly a century, Scratch had spawned an identical heir, who presumably killed his parents and returned, by feral instinct, to terrorize the Orange.
The funniest incidents by far involve Molly, but you'll have to take my word on that b/c spoilers.
However, it is not all fun and games.
There is darkness in the past of many of the characters, as well as a band of thieves who steal "the most valuable part" of their victims plaguing the present.
The humor merely breaks up this darkness so you don't become woebegone (and thank goodness for that).
BELL WEATHER by Dennis Mahoney was a wonderful discovery. Between the fantastical world, the hilarious characters, and a criminal mind made all the more frightening for his mad genius, this is a book you'll be hard-pressed to put down. Highly recommended to any fantasy reader.
Imagine a powerful sorcerer living in a tower in the middle of a forest. He is over 150 years old, but he still appears to be Reviewed by: Rabid Reads
Imagine a powerful sorcerer living in a tower in the middle of a forest. He is over 150 years old, but he still appears to be a young man. Every 10 years, he picks a girl from one of the local villages to take back to his tower. The villagers say nothing, do nothing, b/c the sorcerer protects them from the Wood.
The villagers don't know what happens to the girls during their time in the tower, only that they come back changed. Grander, finer, more polished. Educated and dressed in fine clothes.
Different.
The girls are well paid for whatever it is they do in the tower. Alone with the wizard. In the middle of the Wood. When they've served their sentence, they return with a sack of silver to use as a dowry, but they don't marry. At least not anyone from their former home. They all leave, using the money to finance a fresh start somewhere else.
This sorcerer, called the Dragon, is alone except for the village girl, and even with her, he maintains his distance. She will age. She will die. He will do neither. Rather than forming attachments to impermanent creatures, he buries himself in order and precision and the resulting beauty of a task well done.
His nature is taciturn, impatient, and formal, so the villagers, despite their dependence on him for protection, fear him, despise him:
I had hated him, but I wouldn't have reproached him, any more than I would have reproached a bolt of lightning for striking my house. He wasn't a person . . .
Agnieszka is the antithesis of this sorcerer, this Dragon.
Left to his own devices, he would never have chosen her as his new companion, but Agnieszka has magic, and the King's Law states that any found with the talent must be trained, so choose her he does.
What follows is a compelling combination of stagnation and rebirth, misunderstandings and revelations, the fantastical and the horrific, and all of it is utterly captivating.
Tired literary devices felt new again:
She kissed me again and held me once more, and let me go. It did hurt more. It did.
I found myself reading and rereading the various passages. More than an image clearly formed in my mind, I felt what Agnieszka felt. I could have been her:
I had forgotten hours and days by then. My arms ached, my back ached, my legs ached. My head ached worst of all, some part of me tethered back to the valley, stretched out of recognizable shape and trying to make sense of myself when I was so far from anything I knew. Even the mountains, my constants, had disappeared. Of course I'd known there were parts of the country with no mountains, but I'd imagined I would still see them somewhere in the distance, like the moon. But every time I looked behind me, they were smaller and smaller, until finally they disappeared with one final gasp of rolling hills.
Novik perfectly captures human nature, plucking you from the physical world, and dropping you next to Agnieszka, making you an observer from within, so much more than a girl in a chair reading a book in Tennessee:
"I'm glad," I said, with an effort, refusing to let my mouth close up with jealousy. It wasn't that I wanted a husband and a baby; I didn't, or rather, I only wanted them the way I wanted to live to a hundred someday, far off, never thinking about the particulars. But they meant life: she was living, and I wasn't.
And beyond the simple beauty of her words, she creates real, believably flawed people characters.
Marek is a prince, not the crown prince, and he has no qualms about making his displeasure on that topic known, and when I met him . . . I didn't know what to think. He behaved abominably, but in a way that he himself wasn't absolutely abominable. Just self-interested. But redeemable. Until he isn't. Then suddenly you have hope for him again.
It was a cycle that I completed several times, and in the end . . . I'm still undecided.
But he was real. And he was one among many.
Kasia is Agnieszka's best and only friend. She is also the girl that everyone expected the Dragon to choose. So imagine my dismay when shortly after she escapes that fate, she is abducted by one of the Wood's foul creatures.
Now imagine Agnieszka's dismay.
If you want to know whether or not Kasia is saved, you'll have to read the book for yourself (which you should do anyway, b/c AWESOME), but I will tell you that Agnieszka finds something in the Wood, and that something reminds me of one of my favorite Christian Schloe illustrations:
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Fantastic(al), right? The whole book is like that.
UPROOTED by Naomi Novik is part fantasy, part fairy story, and all wonder. I haven't been as enamored by a tale since I was child, and though this is not a children's story, I still found myself smitten like a girl with ribbons in her hair, twirling in her favorite dress in the sunshine. This is a story that has carved it's place on my heart, and I enthusiastically endorse it as my top read of 2015.
Last year I had a bad run of YA fantasy. A really bad run. So bad that I was seriously considering giving up YA altogReviewed by: Rabid Reads
4.5 stars
Last year I had a bad run of YA fantasy. A really bad run. So bad that I was seriously considering giving up YA altogether, b/c I had clearly matured past the point to being able to enjoy it.
Pfft.
And it was Half the World's predecessor Half a King that kept me from making a brash decision I would inevitably come to regret.
I am pleased to tell you that Half the World (IM humble O) has surpassed it.
Meet Thorn.
Thorn is a girl who lives in a world where women are resolutely confined to more delicate pursuits than say . . . WAR.
As children, they may be temporarily indulged in their desire to train with the boys and their wooden practice swords, but the older they get, the more discouragement they encounter, and if they persist in the stubborn hope of being the first girl in memory to take the Warrior's Oath and fight for their King, then more extreme tactics are employed to set the wayward female on a more acceptable path.
For Thorn that means facing impossible odds in her final test as a student.
But it is made clear that even should she win, there will be no place for her among the men.
And the situation isn't improved by Thorn's own surliness and sense of entitlement.
Abercrombie does an excellent job of showcasing how obstinately difficult a 16 year old girl can be, without making you hate her. Instead . . . you remember. You remember how convinced you were of your own infallibility, of how much more deserving you were of the thing that you wanted than that person over there. And then you remember how hard those lessons proved to be when you finally realized you were wrong.
B/c Thorn does learn. And it is hard.
I loved her, prickliness and recalcitrance included.
She winds up in disgrace that leads to swearing an oath to Father, yes, Father Yarvi, and Father Yarvi sees fit to have her trained by Skifr, a bizzare old woman from the far south.
And believe me when I say that "bizarre" does not even begin to cover it.
But I loved her too.
Know who else I loved?
The hodgepodge of villainous-looking crew members that Rulf assembles for the voyage Father Yarvi is leading to seek allies for Thorlby against the High King and his oppressive dictates.
Thorn wondered what mountain of corpses this lot might have heaped up between them, but she wasn't one to be easily intimidated. Especially when she had no choice.
Despite this initial impression, the men become family to both Thorn and Brand (don't worry, I'll get to him in a minute), and more and more my distinctly different first impression was reinforced:
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She put on her bravest face, stepped up to the biggest man she could see and tapped him on the arm. "I'm Thorn Bathu." "I am Dosduvoi." She found herself staring sharply up at one of the biggest heads she ever saw, tiny features squeezed into the center of its doughy expanse, looming so high above her that at first she thought its owner must be standing on a box. "What bad luck brings you here, girl?" he asked, with a faintly tragic quiver to his voice. She wished she had a different answer, but snapped out, "I'm sailing with you." His face retreated into an even tinier portion of his head as he frowned.
[image]
It was either bluster or look weak and Thorn reckoned that no choice at all, so she puffed herself up and snapped out, "How did you get the scar?" "How did you get the scar?" Thorn frowned. "What scar?" "That's the face the gods gave you?" And with the faintest of smiles the Vansterman went back to coiling rope.
[image]
I'm sure there are people out there that are absolutely horrified by the comparison, and make no mistake, this is a book written by Lord Grimdark himself, so there is nothing Disney about it, but . . . I can't help it, that's what I saw in my head. *shrugs awkwardly*
And I haven’t even gotten to Brand yet. *sighs* Suffice it to say that Brand is . . . experiencing the exact same types of things that Thorn is experiencing, but he is a softer, gentler example of adolescence, and he serves as both a wonderful foil for Thorn, and a secondary illustration of why it’s idiotic to try to shove people into gender-specific boxes.
Bottomline: It’s just really, really good. Half the World is a stellar followup to Half a King, making this is a series that should be on the bookshelves of anyone who loves fantasy. And with the next installment Half a War just a few short months from release . . . blah, blah, just read it. You’ll love it. *winks*
A DARKER SHADE OF MAGIC is one of those books that I needed to reflect upon before reviewing.
As far as I can tell this happens to me for one of two reasons:
1. It was awful, but in a way that confounded me, either b/c it was an author whom I love and trust and WTH happened? Or b/c my issue(s) is nebulous and thus has to be dissected to determine the root of the problem. 2. It was amazeballs, but in a way that confounded me, b/c SO MUCH CLEVER.
This was a #2 situation. Fyi.
And even though it's been over a month, I'm still kind of at odds about what to say.
Firstly, it is a fact universally acknowledged that I am a character-driven reader.
BUT.
I was not more than mildly invested in these characters until I was more than halfway through it.
Secondly, it is a fact universally acknowledged that ROMANCE, I love it.
Yet there was very little romance in this book.
SO. We have:
1. Characters I didn't immediately connect with. 2. Little to no swoons.
And still . . . I LOVED it.
Do you see why I needed time to traverse the dark and twisty paths of my mind? But ultimately, it comes down to this:
Victoria Schwab is a bloodydamn genius.
No really. She is.
She created a world so vastly different from others I've encountered, with hinted at conundrums for a later date, and characters who are . . . oblivious yet discerning, adventurous and daring, scared but determined, arrogant yet realistic, but above all else they are compelling. They are also broken. In remarkably similar ways despite the disparity of their situations.
Kell is a member of the royal family. A prince. Brother to the heir.
Except he isn't. And he knows it, they know it, everyone knows it. B/c Kell . . . is a young man with a rare and remarkable ability, and was therefore removed whence he came to become an adjunct extension of a pre-existing family.
But everyone pretends.
Just like Kell pretends not to be consumed with questions about what came before.
Lila . . . *shakes head at Lila*
Lila is a young woman who refuses to be confined by the restrictions of both her gender and her station. She is astonishingly intelligent. She is independent. If she had a middle name, it would almost certainly be Hubris.
And yet, she is bitterly fragile.
She wants nothing from no one, and accepts nothing she cannot immediately repay, negating any debt she feels is owed.
She's painful to watch.
But I had to watch. Had to. If for no other reason, then to see what she would say/think next:
The rich strutted around, assuming they'd be safe, so long as they stayed in the good parts of town. But Lila knew there were no good parts. Only smart parts and stupid parts, and she was quick enough to know which one to play.
DO YOU SEE WHAT SHE DID THERE?! *head explodes b/c can't contain the awesome*
That kind of brilliance is around every corner. That kind of brilliance is why, for the first time ever, I neither DNF-ed a book b/c characters I didn't connect with or lamented my decision to stick with it after the fact. And honestly, I have no idea what my problem was. I've already said that, yes, eventually, they began to tug my heartstrings, but why it took so long . . . ? It shall remain a mystery.
But things like this:
"I'm not going to die," she said. "Not till I've seen it." "Seen what?" Her smile widened. "Everything."
were the turning point.
Plot-wise, I'm not going to say anything, b/c the less you know, the better.
As for world-building, take the things you think you know about magic systems and toss them out the window.
When I first learned that one of the rulers of Red London had a special talent for controlling the will of others, I was like, "Well, that sucks," and when Kell walked up the fortress steps that were guarded by ten soldiers who were indeed controlled, I thought, "That is such a waste of power. How many people could this guy possibly control at once, and how could he have any power left over to defend against a direct magical attack?"
But I had made an incorrect assumption. Just b/c that's the way magic typically works, doesn't mean that's the way it works according to Schwab.
Arthos can control as many people as he wants. All he has to do is brand them with his particular kind of magic. And that, my friends, is terrifying.
And all of that is why A DARKER SHADE OF MAGIC will be near the top of my Best Books of 2015 list. You will laugh at drunk men stumbling groggily on stairs (HA!), you will nod your head thoughtfully as Kell and Lila reveal the intricacies of what makes them tick, you will gasp in shock and horror when you find yourself walking across the bones of defeated enemies, and you will not regret reading this book for yourself. Highly recommended.
It's not that I don't like them or that I think I've outgrown them . . . IReviewed by: Rabid Reads
4.5 stars
I don't read very many middle grade books.
It's not that I don't like them or that I think I've outgrown them . . . I'm just not . . . very interested in the kinds of stories and perspectives that frequent the age 9 - 12 bracket.
BUT.
There's a reason I don't ostracize them entirely, and that reason is HARRY POTTER. The first several HARRY POTTER books can be classified as many things, but they are definitely middle grade, and they encapsulate the very best that MG has to offer: a story for ALL ages. A story that engages children, adolescents, and adults alike. A story that parents and grandparents can read to their children and grandchildren or read for themselves.
If doesn't happen often, but when it does . . . pure magic.
CUCKOO SONG by France's Hardinge is one such story.
Ironically, I almost DNF-ed it in the first 10%.
I might not completely shun MG books, but it takes quite an inducement to get me to pick one up, and if it hadn't been for the numerous recommendations from friends and bloggers I know and trust, I wouldn't have made it past the creepy shrieking doll scene that followed the mysteriously mysterious beginning.
However . . . I was determined to give it a fair shot, so I persevered. *salutes trustworthy bookish friends*
The story opens with our 13-year-old main character Triss waking up in bed, surrounded by adults she cannot place, unable to recall how she got there or even what her name is.
The adults turn out to be her parents and a doctor, and after careful questioning to determine what she remembers (not much), they tell her what they know: Triss stumbled into their vacation cottage the night before--after having been put to bed--cold, wet, and disoriented. They believe she fell into the "Grimmer," but they have no idea how it happened.
Triss, it seems, is a sickly, but obedient girl, and leaving in the middle of the night for an impromptu swim is completely uncharacteristic behavior.
While the doctor is explaining to Triss that her memories should continue to return with a little time and rest, her younger sister Pen pokes her head into the room and promptly unleashes a tirade to the tune of, "That's not my sister! She's a fake! How can you be fooled by that awful creature who is not my sister!"
No one pays Pen any mind b/c as good and obedient a daughter as Triss is, Pen is equally disobedient and BAD.
So Pen's tantrum is ignored by all . . . except Triss, who can't seem to get the accusation out of her head . . .
B/c despite her returning memories, Triss is experiencing . . . oddities: a ravenous hunger that no amount of food seems able to satiate, waking up covered in dirt and leaves with no idea how they got there, and the aforementioned dolls coming to life. *shudders*
And that's all I'm telling you about that. It's hard though. This tale is so wonderfully imaginative that it's almost painful to hold it all in.
The characters are also fantastic.
There were half a dozen (at least) memorable secondaries, but it was the sisters that truly shone.
Triss and Pen . . . were complicated. I'd already heard that one of the highlights was the wonderful portrayal of their relationship, and I was confused about that for a long time. BUT. By the end, not only was I in complete agreement, I also appreciated how honest the portrayal was.
Yes, there are gooey, glowy moments of sisterly adorableness, but there were also moments of the kind of bitter spite that can only be accomplished by sisters, and without those bitter moments . . . the lovely ones aren't nearly as sweet.
As engaging as the characters and this world were, what I loved most was how Hardinge used the disruption to shake this family out of stagnation.
A tragedy occurred years prior, and since that time the Cresents have been pretending: that things are fine, that one daughter must be coddled and protected, that the other is acting out and any reaction enables the behavior . . . and the girls have been slowly suffocating . . .
But one strange event begins a chain reaction that forces the Cresents on a path to acceptance and recovery.
CUCKOO SONG by Frances Hardinge is hilarious and bizarre and absolutely darling. The sisters and creatures were delightful, the adults (with one notable exception) horrid, but mostly redeemable . . . It's a fantastically entertaining story that is also peppered subtly with wisdom and thought-provoking messages that apply to readers of every age and station, and I highly recommend it to one and ALL.
I wasn’t very impressed with the first installment of this trilogy . . . But I’m a big enough Marillier fan, and I saReviewed by: Rabid Reads
4.5 stars
I wasn’t very impressed with the first installment of this trilogy . . . But I’m a big enough Marillier fan, and I saw enough glimpses of the excellence I’ve come to expect from her that it wasn’t difficult to make myself continue with the series.
I am so glad.
RAVEN FLIGHT was everything I expected SHADOWFELL to be and then some. Ominous foreshadowings, beautifully imagined Fae creatures (and by “beautifully” I don’t mean pretty—I mean convincingly alien creatures to blow your friggin’ mind), the bittersweet longing of new love kept apart, heartbreaking but necessary truths learned by both the characters and the reader<------THIS is why Juliet Marillier will always have a spot on the bookshelf of my heart.
In RAVEN FLIGHT, we get to know some of the characters we’d barely met at the end of SHADOWFELL.
There are several types of stock female warrior characters. My first impression of Tali was that she was a female warrior of the hardass I-have-no-time-for-puny-nonwarrior-females-like-you-go-mend-something variety, and honestly, it took some time for that impression to be disproved.
When Regan tells Tali she's to guard Neryn on her quest to seek out the Guardians, Tali doesn’t handle it well . . .
She rants. She raves. She pleads. Only then does she comply, but she does not do it gracefully.
For the first part of their travels, they barely speak a word to each other (b/c sulking). BUT. Nothing brings people together like conflict (Just ask Harry, Ron, and Hermione).
Tali and Neryn are doing their stealthy travel thing when Tali leaves Neryn to fish or scout or something. So Neryn’s just chillin’ behind some scrub when she hears their predetermined warning signal, but instead of taking off on her own like she’s supposed to, she decides to investigate.
And a good thing she did, b/c Tali’s in a fight for her life, five-on-one, and she’s good, but nobody’s that good. Except Neryn isn’t as sneaky sneaky as she thinks she is, and pretty quickly she’s caught and used as a hostage against Tali—NOT good.
So what does Neryn do?
Uses her super Callerness, of course.
And what shows up to help?
Awesome river creature guy, that’s what.
Help us! Quickly, help! The river roiled and rose up… The water rose to my waist. A figure rose with it, taller than a tall man, a being all ripples and eddies and swirls, its features discernible as darker patches in the watery substance of its face. Flotsam adhered to its head, forming what might be hair or a hat, and within its body twigs and leaves washed about as if carried on the natural flow of the river. In its liquid face a mouth opened, a great dark cavity, and one of the men let out a terrified oath.
But as fantastic as the description of this creature was, Marillier goes further to create a personality, an entity, with complex patterns of behavior.
The river being spoke, its voice a thundering torrent of sound in which I sensed rather than heard words. “Wash, dip, splash, drown?” Tali glanced at the eldritch creature, then quickly away. “Tell it not yet,” she said. “Not till they’ve answered some questions.” “Wait, please,” I said, my teeth chattering . . .
Tali and Neryn get what information they can from the men, using River Creature to encourage when necessary. When they’ve learned everything of use, Neryn must decide what to do with them, and the ever helpful River Creature is happy to provide more options:
The river being held still, keeping the two suspended. So far as I could tell, it was looking at me. “Plunge, toss, drown, change?” it inquired
Coolest flippin’ Fae creature I’ve encountered in recent memory. And while this one is my favorite, it is only one of many.
So yeah . . . hard not to bond after that.
And then there’s the whole star-crossed lovers thing. You already know that I LOVE Flint. Well . . . so does Neryn. But they can’t be together, b/c . . . they just can’t. Not telling. But their love is so pure and so sweet and so absolutely delicious, that you can’t be upset about the lack of Flint in this installment, b/c the LONGING has taken hold of you, and you refuse to let it go. You cling to it, roll around in it, braid it into your hair and dance with it, and threaten anything that challenges it with torches and pitchforks.
Almost as fantastic as the LONGING, is the insight we get into Tali (I knew it, I KNEW IT).
When Neryn encounters the warrior ghosts for the second time, Tali is with her. Tali, being a warrior, herself, is of course going to be affected by the meeting. But it’s more than that, and, no, I can’t tell you why, just trust me—it is.
I did, however, have a couple of small issues. That thing that I knew about Tali? I’m pretty sure you’d figure it out too. It was kind of obvious in that the-lady-doth-protest-too-much way, but not only did Neryn not figure it out, she consciously states that she had no clue. None whatsoever.
Really? *frowns and squints*
My second (and bigger) issue, is that a fairly important character was killed off page. I hate that.
1. there’s no resolution, and
2. it’s lazy.
I don’t care if someone saw his head on a pike, if I don’t know, irrefutably, that a character is dead, I can’t let go. I keep expecting it to be a mistake, a misunderstanding, a LIE, and they’re going to turn up again any page now.
And that . . . is emotionally exhausting. And I’m already emotionally exhausted, b/c you killed someone important. So just stop it. THANKS.
But overall, RAVEN FLIGHT was an excellent book. So excellent that I have no qualms about making many friends and family members suffer through the first less-than-stellar installment to get to this one. If you still aren’t completely sold, have no fear—THE CALLER, the final installment of this trilogy will be available September 9. I’m off to read it right now, and I’ll be back to let you know how it goes. Count on it.
Pierce Brown would be a Gold in the society he built, and it kind of pisses me off.
This is the third time I've read RED RISI1/27/16 - Updated Review:
Pierce Brown would be a Gold in the society he built, and it kind of pisses me off.
This is the third time I've read RED RISING, it's the first time I've read it since reading GOLDEN SON, and, more than ever, I'm convinced he's a bloodydamn genius.
AND he's beautiful.
It's not fair.
You don't get to be brilliant AND talented AND have those eyes AND those arms:
[image]
[image]
You're welcome.
In heels, I might be taller than him, but who the hell cares in the face of ALL THE OTHER THINGS?
Everything about this book is perfection.
I'll admit, like many others, the first time I read it, I didn't love it immediately. I may have even forced my enthusiasm for awhile. BUT. With every additional read, I see more and more of the aforementioned genius.
Tiny, seemingly insignificant things that are easily overlooked in the thrill of first discovery, but at a second glance . . . are the exact kinds of things that separate a good book from a GREAT book.
He's crass in the barracks without crossing a line into juvenile bathroom humor. He uses innuendo without being cheesy--any females out there who didn't swoon at the mention of a helldiver's dexterous fingers?--and when the innuendo is meant to be cornball, it makes you laugh rather than roll your eyes:
Well played, Mars. They say Mercury is the trickster, but your japes always have a certain…flair!” “Flair, eh? Well, I’m sure I could rustle up some tricks for you on Olympus…” “Huzzah,” she coos suggestively.
Huzzah. *giggle snorts* And those are a mere handful of the multitudes of similarly nuanced details found on every other page.
All I'm saying is that if I find out he plays guitar or sings or even gives really great impressions à la Tom Hiddleston, things are gonna get ugly.
RED RISING by Pierce Brown might be the best book in the history of ever.
When I first heard about this book, I was accosted with comparisons to THE HUNGER GAMES. By bloggers, by publicists, by other authors . . .
Everyone has read THE HUNGER GAMES, and everyone loved THE HUNGER GAMES (myself included), and the comparisons to THE HUNGER GAMES were probably inevitable, b/c RED RISING was the first Dystopian novel since THE HUNGER GAMES that has even remotely come close to the same level of brutality (IMO).
However, RED RISING takes THE HUNGER GAMES‘ brutality and spits on it. Then jeers and makes rude gestures at it. Then rips off its arms and legs and beats it with them, shouting “Pax au Telemanus!” at the top of its lungs.
Seriously, I would’ve thought it impossible for me to even finish, let alone like, a book with this level of savagery. BUT Brown is clever about it. I didn’t even realize it myself until I was 75ish% finished and looking back through the parts I’d highlighted. And (right) now it’s occurring to me that Brown is even more clever than I originally thought him to be, b/c Darrow (MC) would be struggling with the same issues I was having.
About 30ish% into the book, you enter the third stage, and while the overall feel is still one of horror at the inhumanity of the upper classes, Darrow's enemies start to become humanized. Funny, nay, downright HILARIOUS things happen, camaraderie develops . . . It creeps up on you until you forget why Darrow is where he is. You're caught up in the NOW, survival depends on the present, and little thought is given to the past or the future.
And you're experiencing this so vividly b/c Darrow is too.
RED RISING is about a world run by a caste system. The castes are based on the eugenically modified eye color of a person. But the eugenics are not limited to the color of an individual’s iris, oh no, they have Obsidian elite soldiers that are twice the size of normal men, Violet artists with twelve fingers on each hand to better art with, and Pinks whose only job is to provide pleasure *waggles eyebrows* for the high-color castes (mostly Golds and Silvers). Pinks who sometimes have wings among other fantastical features created by Violets.
And then there are the Golds. The Golds that are in charge. The Golds that send their own children to an Institute, where if they survive “The Passage” (a sort of enforced Survival of the Fittest), they play a real-life version of RISK. How well they play determines their futures, with the victorious team members being assured fame and fortune. There are no rules once the ten month-long game begins, but killing other Golds is frowned upon. *snorts*
It should be noted that there are worse things than death.
Enter Darrow, a Red from the lowest-level caste. He is a Helldiver, one of the elite driller/miners who live beneath Mars’ surface, who believes he labors to provide a better future for his people. His job, along with the other Reds, is to mine Helium-3 which is essential in terraforming. The Earth is overpopulated you see, and Darrow’s ancestors were burdened with the glorious purpose of ensuring Mars is habitable for future generations. As soon as terraforming is complete, the Reds will return to the surface as the rightful rulers of the planet that was built on their backs.
L-I-E-S.
I could go on and on (and on) about this book. Though it is (for unfathomable reasons) listed as YA, I can tell you that I will not be getting it for my youngest (14 y.o.) sister any time in the near future. I can also tell you that if you read this book, you will run the full gamut of emotions—I did anyway.
Bottomline: RED RISING is one of the absolute must-reads of 2014.
The only thing from my original review that needs amending is now that I'm not rushing, rushing to know ALL THE THINGS, the early PO8/21/15 - Revised:
The only thing from my original review that needs amending is now that I'm not rushing, rushing to know ALL THE THINGS, the early POV changes no longer seem jarring and/or disruptive.
Patience . . . Not my virtue. #selfawarenessFTW
SO instead I will enumerate all the reasons why I think Chaol is an idiot manboy who doesn't deserve Celaena, and why I do NOT think he's her mate: (view spoiler)[
1. Dorian had been right about Celaena—about Chaol resenting her darkness and abilities and true identity, but . . . it hadn’t changed how he felt.
And he doesn't mean it hadn't changed that he loved Celaena, he means that his acknowledgement of Dorian's assessment doesn't change his resentment.
He RESENTS Celaena for being Celaena.
2. "Until then, the fact remains, Captain, that you have not picked a side because you are still a boy, and you are still afraid. Not of losing innocent lives, but of losing whatever dream it is you’re clinging to. Your prince has moved on, my queen has moved on. But you have not."
I hate indecision. LOATHE, in fact.
Throughout this entire book Chaol knows how evil King is. Knows that Celaena, the woman he supposedly LOVES, is the rightful heir to a kingdom destroyed by King, still subjugated by King ten years later. Knows that his best friend since childhood will be killed or worse should King discover his newly manifested magic. Knows that King SLAUGHTERED thousands of innocent slaves in work camps, and still he refuses to join the fight against him. Thinks he can just run along home to his pretty silver lake and stay out of it.
*flares nostrils*
You disgust me, Chaol.
3. “You once told me that when you find your mate, you can’t stomach the idea of hurting them physically. Once you’re mated, you’d sooner harm yourself.” “Yes; why?” “I tried to kill him. I mauled his face, then held a dagger over his heart because I thought he was responsible for Nehemia’s death. I would have done it if someone hadn’t stopped me. If Chaol—if he’d truly been my mate, I wouldn’t have been able to do that, would I?” He was silent for a long while. “You hadn’t been in your Fae form for ten years, so perhaps your instincts weren’t even able to take hold. Sometimes, mates can be together intimately before the actual bond snaps into place.” “It’s a useless hope to cling to, anyway.” “Do you want the truth?” She tucked her chin into her tunic and closed her eyes. “Not tonight.”
The first part is pretty self-explainitory. If Chaol was her mate, she would've rather died than hurt him. Clearly, this is not the case.
The first couple times I looked this over, I thought it was fairly ambiguous, but now, I'm not so sure:
". . . perhaps your instincts weren’t even able to take hold."
Except she has spent LOTS o' time in her Fae form since then, once before she departed for Wendlyn. If Chaol was her mate, she'd know it. They'd be on the equivalent of a break, but that wouldn't change the bond.
"Sometimes, mates can be together intimately before the actual bond snaps into place."
Except they were intimate and the bond still didn't form.
And before you can start shaking your fists at me, YES, I concede it's also possible that all of this could mean the bond won't form until after they've been intimate again, now that Celaena is reacquainted with her Faeness, but, sorry, it feels much more likely that they just aren't mates.
4. Part of him still could not fathom what she’d done to Narrok, the battle cry she’d issued from across the sea. He could not accept that part of her, so bloodthirsty and unyielding. Even as Celaena, it had been hard to swallow at times, and he had tried to look past it . . .
Eff you, dude. Eff youuuuuu.
He knew they were monsters. He knew they were vile creatures made by King, but he can't fathom that Celaena killed their asses? And that makes her "bloodthirsty and unyielding"?
Well . . . perhaps, YOU, sir, could stand to be a bit more bloodthirsty and unyielding. *mutters* Pansy-ass, fence-sitting jackhole . . .
5. She had awoken this morning and slipped the amethyst ring off her finger. It had felt like a blessed release, a final shadow lifted from her heart.
Yeah, sorry . . . deciding to turn your mate lose wouldn't feel like a "blessed release," if you were able to do it at all. (hide spoiler)]
HEIR OF FIRE begins with Celaena lazing about on a rooftop in Wendlyn's capital city, drinking cheap wine (that she stole) from a jug, and feeling sorry for herself.
Actually, she wasn't drinking it. She was looking for it, and when she found it, it was empty (having already been drunk). Shortly thereafter, she gets mistaken for a vagrant . . .
By a vagrant. *snorts*
But as hilarious as that was, for the first 15-20% of the book, I thought we were getting ToG's version of HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX.
If you haven't read HARRY POTTER, book 5 was filled with teenage ANGST and wallowing and self-pity, and as much as I appreciated Rowling writing the book accurately in terms of Harry's state of development, it was still my least favorite book in the series.
Fortunately, it didn't take long to see that Celaena wasn't wallowing . . . she was . . . trying to cope.
The depth of her sorrow and regret . . . (<------it HURTS).
Maas communicates Celaena's anguish so deftly that you can see her, hear her, feel her agony.
But Celaena has never been one to sit around and twiddle her thumbs, feeling sorry for herself. She pushes the things that hurt her to the side. She ignores them, and focuses on the task at hand.
And that works fairly well for her . . . until it doesn't . . .
I think a lot of us can relate to that tendency. I see myself in her ostrich-like avoidance tactics, and I know firsthand that no matter how hard you try not to think about something, there will always be seemingly innocuous things that act as triggers . . . triggers that send you spiraling into the depths of despair, b/c you have refused to deal with the things that lay heavy on your soul:
"Because she is dead!" She screamed the last word so loudly that it burned in her throat. "Because she is dead, and I am left with my worthless life!"
Have you ever screamed like that? Screamed so loudly out of fury and despair that it feels like the lining of your throat is being eaten away by the acid that consumes you?
Celaena has . . . and bearing witness to it almost makes you feel like you have too.
So we have Celaena desperately trying to control her magic, desperate for answers about the wyrdkeys, desperate not to look too closely at the guilt that surrounds her like a fog.
Rowan Whitethorn is a world-class jackhole. He's verbally abusive, he has resting bitch face, and he is pissed about being ordered to "babysit" Celaena.
But as with Celaena, there is more to Rowan than the obvious. He is nursing his own hurts, and also like Celaena, he uses emotional distance to protect himself from further injury. Their similarities allow them to understand each other:
“You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you've committed. And I know this because I've been doing the same damn thing for two hundred years. Tell me, do you think you will go to some blessed Afterworld, or do you expect a burning hell? You're hoping for hell--because how could you face them in the Afterworld? Better to suffer, to be damned for eternity and--”
But Rowan isn't the only new character we meet in HEIR OF FIRE.
I don't know if any of you are Sarah J. Maas fangirls like I am, but I've been stalking her on Pinterest since before THRONE OF GLASS was released. If you stalk her too, then you've been looking forward to meeting Manon Blackbeak as much as I have. Manon Blackbeak, heir of the Blackbeak Witch-Clan. Manon Blackbeark, who wears the scarlet cloak of the teenaged Crochan witch who was her first kill. Manon Blackbeak who says things like:
"It would be nice--really damn nice--to peel off the Yellowlegs heir's face one day."
Clearly Manon is more than just a surprisingly pretty face--she is clever and determined and ruthless . . . I'm fairly certain that she and Celaena would have been friends in another life.
The last important character we meet in HEIR OF FIRE is Aedion Ashryver, Celaena's cousin and childhood friend. Briefly mentioned in CROWN OF MIDNIGHT, we learned that he grew up to be one of Adarlan's fiercest generals.
And perhaps that is the reason we haven't heard more about him before now. As discussed, Celaena is a master at avoiding painful subjects, and a beloved friend who is perhaps the only surviving member of her family (on the continent), who rains terror on the remnants of Terrasen at the King's command would certainly qualify as "painful."
But once again, Maas gives us a character with depth, and Aedion almost immediately shows himself to be fiercely loyal to Celaena:
"All I want," he snarled, "is for my people to be free and my queen restored to her throne." "They burned the antler throne, Aedion. There is no throne for her." "Then I'll build one myself from the bones of our enemies."
As much as I hated Celaena's separation from the characters we all know and love, I loved the new characters too much for it impact my overall reading experience. I LOVE THIS BOOK.
My only issue was the POV changes in the first several chapters. They occurred frequently, sometimes lasting only 4 or 5 pages at a time, and the result felt choppy and disjointed. So if that's a problem for you as well, don't give up--it gets better, I promise.
And just b/c I can't help myself . . . this isn't a spoiler exactly, b/c if you haven't read HEIR OF FIRE yet, it won't make sense to you. It's a pin I found on SJM's THRONE OF GLASS board that inspired one of my favorite scenes from the book. The pics of Rowan, etc. are also SJM pins and hyperlinked back to the originals, as is this one:
THRONE OF GLASS remains my favorite YA series, and in HEIR OF FIRE, Sarah J. Maas proves that she has staying power. She continues to create places we long to visit and characters that I'm not entirely convinced aren't real. Surely, given the depth of emotion Maas is able draw out of her readers, they must exist somewhere. Or maybe Maas is just a true artist who makes us feel and believe and that is enough.
[image]
Pre-review:
And once again, SJM has kicked ASS. RTC closer to release date. [image]
Everything I could tell you about Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier can be summed up in a single paragraph fReviewed by: Rabid Reads
4.5 stars
Everything I could tell you about Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier can be summed up in a single paragraph from the story itself:
If I were telling this tale, and it were not my own, I would give it a neat, satisfying ending . . . In such stories, there are no loose ends. There are no unraveled edges and crooked threads. Daughters do not give their hearts to the enemy. The wicked do not simply disappear, taking with them the satisfaction of vengeance. Young men do not find themselves divided between two worlds. Fathers know their children.
But this was my own story.
Daughter of the Forest may have a happy ending, but is not a happy tale. It is full of terrible ironies, of monsters and men, of betrayals and heartbreak and endurance.
And it is absolutely beautiful.
Sorcha is the first daughter who should have been the seventh son. Her mother did not survive her birth, and her parents had loved each other so deeply that her father never fully recovered from the loss.
Instead he threw himself into the protection of his lands, and plotting to win back the three islands of great spiritual significance, stolen by the Britons.
On the rare occasions he was at home:
He didn't smile at me. Or at Finbar. Finbar said that was because we reminded Father of our mother, who had died. We were the two who inherited her curling, wild hair. I had her green eyes, and Finbar her gift for stillness. Besides, by being born I had killed her.
(It burrrrrrrrns us, preciousssssssssssssss.)
But Sorcha had her six elder brothers who carried her along with them on their adventures, and so she was happy.
For a time.
But as her brothers grew, they began to leave, campaigning with their father, and when the eldest became engaged, Sorcha knew that no matter how hard she fought against it, her world was forever changing.
And when the brother she has always been closest to enlists her help in freeing a prisoner, she begins her journey down a path with trials so numerous that the Fair Folk themselves have warned her of what she will face before the end.
I laughed. I cried. I raged. I pleaded. I loved, and my heart was broken. All b/c of this book.
If it wasn't for an ugly rape scene, Daughter of the Forest would have been my second 5.0 star read in over a year, so if you absolutely cannot handle that sort of thing, you have been duly warned. If you're unsure, I strongly suggest you check out Kat Kennedy's review on Goodreads. BUT. If you think you can handle it . . . I know this isn't the first time I've sung Juliet Marillier's praises, but this time I entreat you: if you love fantasy at all, if you love fairy tales or retellings at all, read this book.
Jessica ❁ ➳ Silverbow ➳ ❁
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