They seem such slight things, the Discworld books. Mostly slender paperbacks with the unmistakable art on their covers and the absurd premises piled on one another (it’s turtles all the way down), usually stacked up in the first few pages. Suddenly it’s a couple hundred pages later, there has been laughter, there has been at least the hint of tears, and the absurdities haven’t become any less so, but they have also become, somehow, inevitable.
Rendering Death as a major character, both sympathetic and drily — one is tempted to say bone-drily — humorous, is one of Pratchett’s significant achievements over the course of the first ten books. In the eleventh, Reaper Man, Death takes center stage.
Death discovers an hourglass with his own name on it, sand slipping from above to below, indicating with greater inevitability than even taxes, that he did not have much time left. At first he protests, and then he does what many mortals would do if they knew how much time they had remaining to live: he walks right off his job.
Meh. I loved The Monsters Of Templeton and eagerly looked forward to meeting that same humanity and kindness displayed there again here in the pages of Fates And Furies, but instead all I got was a book about a naive dude and his bitchy wife with her unrelentingly poor choices. If anything, it reminded me of a fictionalized version of Vera by Stacey Schiff: great writing but God, the protagonists are deeply unsympathetic. Our two main characters, Lotto and Mathilde, are passionately in love, marrying after two weeks of meeting at the age of 22 and weathering all sorts of storms, personal and professional, to enjoy a mostly secure and happy union. I’ll be honest, a lot of Lotto’s half, I kept trying to guess what sort of dark fury was building underneath, as had been promised in the blurbs, to be revealed in the second half. And then I got to Mathilde’s part and… meh.
God, she’s so awful. She makes a terrible mistake as a child (or maybe she doesn’t! But instead of just getting the fuck over it, in the most annoying part of the book, we’re forced to read about her feelings about her feelings <-- useful phrase my darling best friend used when we were discussing the book last night. It is so nice to have intelligent friends) and is punished with a really crappy childhood, but then goes on to make really bad choices which she shouldn't be making because she's clearly an intelligent person who KNOWS better. You know a character is an idiot when you agree more with the "menacing" uncle than with her re: supporting herself through college. And I have no fucking idea why she even went to college if she isn't going to use a damn thing she learned in those four years to support herself afterwards. She bitches about Lotto's career and their poverty but when push comes to shove, goes right back to the guy who humiliated her for years instead of maybe using her fucking degree to get a real job. Jesus Christ, Mathilde. Pull yourself together, you great idiot. I'm also really tired of books where I'm supposed to sympathize with the woman who deliberately obscures herself behind her husband because fucking staaaaaahp. That's a legitimate issue through the 1970s and maybe even 80s, but once through the 90s, there's no excuse to blame sexism for what is essentially just a young woman's passive-aggressive display of fear of the real world. Bitch, you have choices! Stop making the worst, the cowardly ones!
And this is another book which has been compared to the wonderful, diabolical Gone Girl, much to my ire. Gone Girl was terrific, featuring a sociopath who made choices that made perfect, if selfish and cruel, sense. That portrait of a marriage was at once fantastical and terrifyingly believable. Fates And Furies is believable in that, yes, people are this dumb, but I didn't care about them and was honestly glad when the book was over and I didn't have to deal with Mathilde's bullshit any more. I didn't even care about her grand "redemptive" gesture at the end. The best parts of the books were the ones that alluded to Lotto's plays (again, echoes of my experience with Vera) and the observation that you can't really know anyone unless they're committed to openness with you (so by that measure, I don't think Lotto and Mathilde had a successful marriage, but what do I know? Marriage is hard work, I'll grant you that.) Everything else was well-written drivel.
It’s extraordinary how this series doesn’t flag at all, with each book feeling entirely self-contained even as the overarching narrative races towards what promises to be a breathtaking denouement (no pressure, Ben Aaronovitch!) With most urban fantasy, Book 3 (if you’re lucky) is where the stresses of carrying a series would begin to show, in either lazy writing, or rote characterization or plot development. Astonishingly, the Peter Grant books avoid all these pitfalls, and only seem to be going from strength to strength as we continue to explore magical London with our charming cast.
My only quibble with this book, entirely not the fault of Mr Aaronovitch I’m sure, was that Agent Reynolds was portrayed in the blurb as someone ferociously anti-witchcraft, instead of your average skeptic. While I quite enjoyed how having her in the book allowed for some terrific cross-Atlantic humor, I did think it was weird that she was set up by the promotional materials to be some sort of small-town bigot.
And finally, my favorite quote from the book:
A murder inquiry can last week, months, or even years, and ultimately the victims don’t want you to be sympathetic. They want you to be competent–that’s what you owe them.
It isn’t often that the second book in a series I like is even better than the first, but Ben Aaronovitch has managed to build on the cleverness of Midnight Riot to add pathos and depth to his magical universe with Moon Over Soho. Whereas the first book felt a little shaky in its grasp of “magic,” the writing here feels much more sure-footed. In the hands of another author, the amount of detail regarding police practices would have also felt intrusive if not downright tiresome, but here they add gravitas to our hero’s wit and his surroundings’ fancy. And I love how this universe keeps expanding in a way that feels organic and, at no point, convenient (tho I forget from the first book, has Dr Walid always been able to sense vestigia?) I also found, unusually for me, that I was not irritated by the fact that only half the mystery presented in the book is solved by the end of it. I would likely have been annoyed had this happened in the first book: I want a series to earn my loyalty with a perfectly packaged standalone before buying into a multi-threaded narrative that carries over the course of several novels. And the Rivers Of London has definitely done that! Off to binge-read Book 3 before knuckling down to the other books that leapt off the library’s hold list for me!
I don’t think I understand Patricia Highsmith, but that could be due to the fact that I haven’t read any of her suspense novels, so haven’t yet enjoyed the sense of atmosphere most people ascribe to her writing. The Price Of Salt is more romance novel than any other genre, and I get that it was a seminal work given the plot, but oh my God, is it dull. Therese, our heroine, is quiet and generally inarticulate. Carol, the object of her affection, is mercurial and aloof. Together, they are an intensely uninteresting pair. Oddly, I don’t fault the plot at all, or even the characterization (tho it likely helped that I visualized Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett the entire time) but the writing, which is shallow and numbingly cold. Essentially, the entire book is: Therese does this. Therese does that. Carol is mean, or at best ambiguous, to her. Things happen, good and bad. The end.
I mentioned, partway through reading the book, that it feels a lot like reading the diary of an unimaginative and not very articulate young woman, written, for no discernible reason, in the third person. But there are moments, such as Waterloo, and sentences, like this one:
Happiness was like a green vine spreading through her, stretching like fine tendrils, bearing flowers through her flesh.
where the beauty of love shines through and it’s almost a worthwhile read. But had this been published today, it would be quickly dismissed as of slight interest, which I think is less of a slur against the book than a compliment to our present society of readers and writers.
Ugh, Liane Moriarty, you genius. How did you know that my favorite Enid Blyton stories were the ones titled things like “A Bit Of Temper”? You’ve managed to write a novel both complex and heartening that still manages to satisfy that unsophisticated need in me for neatness in the universe. Your characters are whole and difficult and at once easy to understand and sympathize with: the perfect thing to read out on the deck with a cup of tea, quietly laughing and crying and glad for the fact that the neighbours on that side haven’t moved in yet. I did think the epilogue (excepting the bits about Janie) was a touch unnecessary, but otherwise this was popular fiction at its near finest, and I only say “near” because Big Little Lies was an even better example of the genre.
TRUST is a young adult, mythological, urban fantasy thrill ride about the darkly fantastical, supernatural Museion that has secretly protected humanity’s greatest treasures for millennia, and Anna, the sixteen-year-old New York girl who is the unknowing Heir to it all.
I received a copy of this ebook for free from Netgalley in exchange for an impartial review. Normally, I have a strict “no self-published books” rule for my reviews. However, I decided to make an exception for Trust because it offers something I believe is sorely needed in today’s market, especially in YA fiction: Diversity. Both the author and the protagonist are women of color and that was enough to persuade me to take a chance on this book.
I couldn’t be more pleased with my decision. In her debut novel, Jodi Baker introduces the audience to a protagonist who is smart, funny, and relatable. Although I did notice a few issues that can be attributed to lack of writing experience, overall Ms. Baker manages to weave history and mythology together to create an intriguing story told with an engaging voice.
Trust opens with a prologue that thrusts readers into the final moments of Hypatia of Alexandria. In Jodi Baker’s fictionalized account, Hypatia is the last living descendant of Ptolelmy, founder of the Great Library of Alexandria, and is heir to the position of Head Librarian. Desperate to save the precious scrolls from being burned, Hypatia attempts to escape through a magical portal hidden in a wall. But there is a price. Humans are only allowed to use the portal in the presence of a Guardian for safety. To attempt entry without a Guardian is certain death.
The next several chapters recount the strange childhood of the novel’s main protagonist, Anna. Raised in New York City by her single mother, Kali, Anna knows her life isn’t typical, but she doesn’t understand why. She only knows that she must “stay in the middle of the pack” lest a mysterious They discover her existence and take her away from her mother.
Kali takes pains to isolate Anna from the outside world. Anna is homeschooled and the only time she sets foot in public school is to participate in annual testing. Despite Anna’s high intelligence and the advanced curriculum in which she has been instructed, ranging from learning to read ancient Greek to zoology lessons, Kali coaches her daughter to ensure Anna’s test scores are never above average. Anna has no friends her own age, nor is she allowed to speak to strangers. In her whole life, Anna has broken her mother’s rule only once – when, as a young child, she dared to speak to a boy in the antique bookstore she and Kali visited twice a year. After that incident, Anna and her mother never return to the store.
If anyone thinks Kali’s behavior borders on psychological abuse, you’re not alone. The only other reason to be that obsessive about maintaining secrecy is if Anna and her mother were in a witness protection program. Which is why I had a hard time suspending my disbelief when Kali meets a boisterous man named Patrick while she and Anna are visiting Central Park, immediately begins dating and then marries him a few months later, culminating in Patrick and his teenage son, Clayton, moving in with Anna and Kali.
Without giving too many spoilers, Patrick turns out to be a throwaway character who gets stuffed into the Fridge to fuel the rest of the plot. With both her mother and step-brother incapacitated by grief, fifteen-year-old Anna is forced to take on the role of “pack alpha” and manage the household, beginning her journey into adult independence. Eight weeks later, Kali drags herself out of mourning and leaves on a mysterious errand. She tells Anna to “stay in the middle” until she returns. Anna goes to bed and wakes up on the steps of the Metropolitan museum with no memory of how she got there.
At this point, Trust takes a sharp turn into urban fantasy. Anna discovers it’s exactly one year later and that Clayton has reported both Anna and Kali missing. A grandmother Anna never knew she had now owns Anna’s house and has been named her legal guardian should Anna ever be found. Even more unbelievable is the new voice in Anna’s head, which possesses knowledge Anna does not, including how to read and speak ancient Sumerian. The voice, referred to only as “Inanna”, insists that Anna must trust it and those it deems appropriate allies.
From that point on, Anna is on a mission to discover where she’s been for the past year, learn why she has no memory of that time, and ascertain her mother’s whereabouts. Along the way, Anna learns she is a distant relative of Hypatia of Alexandria, that shapeshifters such as were-jaguars and were-jackals exist, and that her entire life has been a lie her mother fabricated to hide Anna from her grandmother’s political schemes.
Trust is the first installment in Jodi Baker’s Between Lions series and it is definitely not a stand-alone novel. There are numerous plot points that are not resolved by the end of the book and a few I felt were glossed over or rushed. I’m hoping those threads will be more fully developed in later books. Despite a few drawbacks, Trust is one of the most captivating books I’ve read in quite a while. I look forward to future books in this series.
This book was haunting in a different way than I usually use the word. In general, I’ve found that I use it when I mean poignant and memorable, but in this case, there’s an actual tinge of fear in my description. I’m not sure if that’s just an intensely personal reaction, but Ruth’s description of her last night in the house was harrowing for me. I read the entire thing less as an ode to transience (as the blurbs would have it) than as a methodical description of a descent into a form of madness, and again I’m not sure if that’s just me. It was interesting to contrast Housekeeping with Marilynne Robinson’s Lila, which is almost the inverse of this novel (tho I never at any point doubted the sanity of any of the people involved in the latter.) I also felt a bit bad that I couldn’t stop comparing this to the Ames books and naturally finding it lacking, but this was still a worthwhile, if disturbing, read.
A testament to how good I think this book is: not only do I want to binge-read the whole series, I’m also willing to shell out the full price on Book 2, as it’s the only one with an absurd wait list from the library. I am voting with my dollar here, people!
Midnight Riot is a surprisingly smart, charming story of a young London cop who suddenly discovers he has magical aptitude. There are certain bits where I think the magic system is a bit shaky/belabored, and I don’t think the explanation of where the villain’s power comes from was explained satisfactorily, but there’s so much awesome world-building, and so much humor (plus Arsenal references!!!) that any flaws are easy to forgive.
In all honesty, Midnight Riot reminds me a bit of the first Harry Dresden book, only more intelligent and less pulpy. I’m hoping the rest of the series doesn’t disappoint me the way Dresden did, tho. Only one way to find out for sure!
It should have been painfully obvious to me from the blurb that this would involve retellings of fairy tales, but I did not realize till I was well into the Beauty And The Beast tale and then ZOMG, THIS IS MY JAM!!! Andrzej Sapkowski has written a terrific fantasy novel with a sympathetic hero, and reading this really enriched my Witcher 3 gaming experience (tho I still need to figure out what exactly happened with Triss Merrigold. I guess that’s what the Internet is for :P.) The only thing I didn’t really understand about this book was the ending. Maybe I’m just exceptionally dense, but I didn’t get The Last Wish part. I’m also hoping the subplot about the kid is resolved in future books, tho since DCPL’s Overdrive doesn’t have any of those, it’ll be a while till I get my hands on them and find out. Looking forward to eventually doing so, tho!
Doug wrote about it here and you can get your own copy at
Al Singh
Doug Merrill
Doreen Sheridan
Emily Lauer
John Pitzel
Lars N. Goldschlager
Laura Eilers
Professor X
Robert Maedgen
Sylvere Ap Leanan
The Shire