Moving Day

Hello everyone, just a note to say that I’m moving blog homes. Blogger was a good sturdy setting for me and my words for two years, in fact I never thought I’d leave, what with it being such a simple content publishing system for someone with low technical knowledge. There are a few different reasons why I’ve decided to move, but essentially a more attractive service presented itself and I’m off to Dreamwidth.

If anyone is thinking of moving to Dreamwidth and wants to hear about my import experience in depth, just ask, but it went well and was pretty easy for a girl with low tech skills and someone advising her. I’m not sure everything about the layout at my new place will stay the same, in fact I know some things will change once I figure out how to make technical adjustments. I haven’t worked out how to move existing comments across yet, so this blog will remain up until I sort something out there, but overall my experience has been really positive so far. There are still things I need to quit being lazy and do (write things in my profile, set up links lists, retag things, fix video code) so please excuse the mess, but with those caveats welcome to my new place, Bookgazing version 2.

I know there are benefits to having a Dreamwidth account to comment on Dreamwidth journals (I don’t know what they are, but I know they are real) and I have a few Dreamwidth codes should anyone want one. I hope you’ll all feel happy visiting over there, whenever you want.

'Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children' - Ransom Riggs

When he was a child, Jacob’s eccentric Polish grandfather told him stories about monsters. While Jacob always took these stories as truth, his father later explains that the stories are just an old man’s way of coping with experiences from WWII. Jacob wrestles with his disappointment as he grows up and his grandfather appears to grow increasingly irrational, hiding in his house with his gun collection, until one day Jacob finds him bleeding to death in the woods. To everyone else it appears that he wandered confused into the path of a large bob-cat, or savage dog but Jacob’s brain thinks he saw something else in the woods that day; an otherworldly monster which gives him screaming nightmares that must be treated with therapy. As he and his therapist try to establish that he didn’t see anything so sinister, his mind continues to puzzle over his grandfather’s last words instructing him to ‘Find the bird. In the loop’.

Jacob thinks that a trip to a remote British island, which may be associated with his grandfather’s past, could finally settle his mind. Of course you, gentle reader, will be well aware that trips to mysterious islands usually create more questions than they answer and will be unsurprised when Jacob’s curious pursuit of his grandfather’s history leads him deep into science fiction land. On the island he discovers an orphanage full of peculiar children who once knew his grandfather well. Unfortunately it is probably deeply spoilerific to reveal much more about the plot (which may leave the rest of this review feeling a little vague, sorry) so let me redirect and talk about the format of Rigg’s novel, the real unique selling point of ‘Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children’.

Riggs has used vintage photographs alongside his novel’s text. Unusual black and white, or sepia images illustrate many of the things and people that Jacob encounters, contributing an old-fashioned horror aesthetic to the novel. You can see some of the photographs in this trailer for the book if you fancy watching:



The photographs show creepy oddities, often children in old fashioned dress apparently performing tricks that force the reader to look twice to confirm what they are seeing. The innate innocence of a child in a picture is subverted by the incongruous, supernatural tricks they seem to be taking part in. It’s strange and a little unnerving to see a photograph of a child in an old-fashioned setting, or dress, because picture of children are typically a reminder of youth, a symbol of eternal life and by association the constant reinvention of modernity. The inclusion of these photographs, which attach the patina of history to small children, indicates unsettling associations between children and ageing, or innocence and darkness. It’s well creepy.

In contrast, Jacob’s narrative is written in a vigorous, modern style which fills his story with dynamic action. The descriptions of with Sharp explicit description is used, which give the reader a strong mental picture of horrors and oddities that Jacob encounters:

‘I let go of my grandfather’s body and stood up, every nerve ending tingling with an instinct I didn’t know I had. There was something in the woods alright – I could feel it.

There was no moon and no movement in the underbrush but our own, and yet somehow I knew just when to raise my flashlight and just where to aim it, and for an instant in that narrow cut of light I saw a face that seemed to have been transplanted directly from the nightmares of my childhood. It stared back with eyes that swam in dark liquid, furrowed trenches of carbon-black flesh loose on its hunched frame, it’s mouth hinged open grotesquely so that a mass of long eel-like tongues could wriggle out.’

‘Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children’ contains an interesting blend of two different types of horror aesthetics. This results in a book full of dynamic action, that will suit fans of adventure novels and old style creepiness, which will appeal to readers who like the quiet fear that incongruous oddness injects into a horror story.

Riggs is the first author I’ve seen using photographic prints in young adult fiction. He gains serious originality points for deciding to combine them with the text of a full novel. Finding just the right kind of story to fit the use of real, found old style photographs shows Riggs interest in shaping stories around technique and that experimental side of his narrative makes me excited. In fact, when I think about why I enjoyed this novel I keep coming back to the format, that creative and apt use of the images. The newness of the technique is interesting and the photographs are visually striking, but they can’t carry an entire book to glory anymore than any other experimental form can.

So, what other positive elements does ‘Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children’ contain? It has a strong adventure plot, which grips and takes its characters into real situations of peril. Watching the twists unravel, spotting the villain just before the end, as the book directs the discovery and watching the climactic good vs. evil struggle play out is entertaining. Reading this novel is like reading a creepy version of a traditional ‘boys own’ adventure novel, especially with the inclusion of two significant, complicated male relationships in Jacob’s life. I’m intrigued and I want to see where the sequel takes Jacob after one satisfyingly teasing cliff-hanger.

And the world building is fantastic, although sadly it would again be a bit too spoiler to describe its specifics. The details that make up the science fiction/fantasy element of the plot are again original (despite some slightly hand wavy explanation of some of the science fiction) and fun.

Still, for me ‘Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children’ was almost a skipping stone book. There was nothing wrong with it technically, in fact there was a lot right (well balanced pacing, appropriate match between format and story, confident voice) and I enjoyed reading it, but there were niggles. My reaction after finishing the story feels similar in tone to Ana’s reaction, although the little things that nibbled at me after finishing were different to the ones that prodded at her.

Let me try to give an example. I found parts of the character creation frustratingly rooted in a limited form of traditional story telling. Riggs has created a novel which is so full of innovation in other areas that when mildly stereotypical character creation is used it’s dull, lack of creativity is very visible in contrast to all the other distinctive content. I could also see the potential for less well covered sci-fi stories to be told, from the perspective of other characters in the novel like Jacob’s grandfather, which were passed over in favour of following Jacob’s fairly standard sci-fi story. I often felt like I would find those stories more unique than Jacob’s, even though Jacob’s story is quite exciting. Perhaps what I want are multiple spin off novels as well as a direct sequel.

Not a perfect book to capture my heart then, but still well worth spending my time going on this adventure with Jacob. Many thanks to the publisher, Quirk for providing me with a copy for review. Hey Jeanne, Riggs is a Kenyon graduate, maybe you want to take a look at it (not that I’m a book pusher or anything).

Other Reviews

The Booksmugglers
Stainless Steel Droppings
Good Books and Good Wine
Books I Done Read
I Draw All Day and Write All Night
Bart’s Bookshelves

'The Vesuvius Club' - Mark Gatiss

It’s no surprise to me that Gatiss, who worked on the recent reboots of two beloved sources of British entertainment (‘Dr Who’ and ‘Sherlock’), has playfully plaited elements of classic crime novels and British male heroes into his novel. Lucifer Box, the protagonist of ‘The Vesuvius Club’, is a distinct character from classic British crime stopping heroes like Bond and Holmes, as his story is set in the Edwardian era, he’s a bit dandyish and he keeps his work secret from those around him. Still, his character betrays strong links to these classic heroes.

As Lucifer Box the most scandalous and the eligible bachelor in Edwardian society he paints (the equivalent of Holmes cultured love of the violin). He has little patience of empathy for those around him (Holmes). He always knows where to find a quiet spot for the uninterrupted satisfaction of any willing lady (Bond, of course).

As Lucifer Box, agent for The British Secret Service, Box is efficient with a pistol (Bond) and has an almost sociopath enthusiasm for the ruthless pursuit of wrongdoers (Holmes). These features of his character make him a fantastic asset for the crown, even if his incautious nature has led to some problems in the past (Holmes, Bond, every secret agent ever).

It’s not just Box’s personality that is reminiscent of classic British novels about solving crimes and serving your country. ‘The Vesuvius Club’ also contains little textual flourishes that allude to the Bond and Holmes narratives. The names of the characters are sometimes deliciously over the top. If you thought the suggestive names of ‘Holmes’ villains like Lord Blackwood and Lord Coward were a bit over the top even for a pastiche, grab something and squeeze hard. Box meets people called Cretaceous Unmann and Charlie Jackpot, whose names become extremely suggestive after the reader learns a little about the characters. This kind of comic naming can be tiring, if not embarrassing, in pastiche novels, or even in classic sources. Fleming’s tendency to name his female characters suggestively is best ignored, for instance, but the game of names in ‘The Vesuvius Club’ remains fresh because the joke that is presented to the reader is constantly varied. Some characters are named suggestively, while some names present mild intellectual games that ask the reader to ferret out the connection to a cultural reference. One man is called Professor Verdigris...a posher version of Professor Green from Cludeo maybe? A Mrs Midsomer Knight appears. For variation, some characters have perfectly ordinary names, like Tom Bowler and Delilah, that don’t gesture to a part of their character or an in joke.

So, like many contemporary novels with historical settings ‘The Vesuvius Club’ includes a certain amount of pastiche, which forges connections between the novel and the literary traditions established by older sources. The fondly mocking attempt at imitation engages the reader in the fun of recognising what is being mimicked by the naming conventions and the chapter titles like ‘The Man in the Indigo Spectacles’. The witty voice of Box sounds a bit like Wilde, or The Scarlet Pimpernel, which again creates more narrative connections for the reader to delight in. Even the fast, fun adventure narrative which poses no real threat to Box’s safety (although the reader may feel he is in danger while in the thick of the action) is a kind of reproduction of earlier entertainment styles like Bond narratives and musketeer movies. No hero dies today. The connection between these particular areas and the familiar novelistic conventions of other exciting sources provides a certain element of cosy fun; aha moments of recognition are available to all kinds of readers.

Unfortunately ‘The Vesuvius Club’ extends its reflection of narrative tradition into a reproduction of old, representational stereotypes. As part of his search to unravel the novel’s central mystery Box meets a Chinese man; a Chinese man called Mr Lee who reportedly runs an opium den. Mr Lee speaks to Box in incomplete English phrases like ‘ ‘Why you come like this? We all friends here. You want pipe?’ ’. I’m sure that given his stereotypical name Mr Lee could be considered just part of the pastiche element of this novel, but to me it seems that his character has been plucked right out of the chest marked ‘lazy historical stereotypes’. His characterisation can’t even be explained by the usual cry of ‘contextually realistic views’ because the narrative doesn’t just make Box bark out his own prejudiced views, it actually makes Lee really represent the stereotype.

It gets...not worse, just differently stereotypical. Mr Lee is actually not the rather stupid, weak man he appears to be. He is cunningly disguising himself, until an opportunity to overpower Box appears. Aha, aha I thought, subversion is coming surely. He will turn out to be a criminal mastermind! Lee indeed reveals himself to be a violent, much stronger criminal, but he also turns out to be a villain who is involved in drugging people and carting their bodies away. In this second Mr Lee, there’s a manifestation of a historical white Western fear that Chinese people would drug white women and sell them into slavery. He may, or may not still be the owner of an opium den, as it isn’t clarified whether this was a pose as part of his disguise, so we get the narrative possibility that Mr Lee continues to conform to that pervasive, unjustified stereotype of the seedy Chinese opium seller.

This easy acceptance of racial stereotypes is disappointing, because ‘The Vesuvius Club’ spends time subverting other areas of the dominant cultural narrative. It is totally #teamboyskissing. A ‘secret’ that prevents Box from breaking ties with his British Secret Service employer Joshua Reynolds; yes that Joshua Reynolds is hinted at early on. If, like me, you were told that Box is a gay spy you will be confused by the fact that Lucifer’s secret does not seem to be his sexuality, as he makes eyes at a lady called Bella Pok for a significant portion of the book. Then, bam, there we go, a character called Charlie Jackpot arrives and Lucifer’s secret is revealed; he’s bisexual. The few sentences of social commentary that follow this revelation make it clear that the narrative has been designed to deliberately conceal the protagonist’s sexuality, so that later a surprise can be sprung.

‘You are shocked are you not? Or perhaps reading this in some distant and unimaginably utopian future like that funny little man Mr Wells would have us believe in, you are not shocked at all!’

‘The Vesuvius Club’ intends to confront reader expectations about what kind of men can be secret agents. The protagonist is a bisexual male spy. He is both an incredibly fastidious dresser and a violent sociopath who will happily shoot someone in the head (a ruthlessness which is framed as a good quality, as it is in many secret agent narratives). He swirls stereotypical expectations around and makes popularly perceived norms about gender and sexuality all messy.

At the same time the novel thoughtlessly embraces certain racial stereotypes in the way it presents Mr Lee. And late on a strange approach to transgender people shows up, tottering down the line between ‘contextually relevant opinions, which are frowned upon in modern liberal society’ and ‘modern casual privilege’. There are places where the novel contributes something new to the mainstream narrative (its villain is a transgender mad scientist, which is not exactly a common character type), but these new elements are limited in the way they subvert narrative common places. Putting a transgender scientist villain into a novel confronts reader expectation that an action adventure narrative must always be a straight, male affair. However, if the narrative allows its protagonist to (however contextually relevantly) dismiss a transgender character’s choice, it is still allowing that certain areas of the negative dominant cultural narrative do not need to be destabilized.

It’s a shame that ‘The Vesuvius Club’ contains this negative cultural reinforcement, because it’s also a full on fun, frantic, inventive novel, which features energetic coach chases through cemeteries, sci-fi style volcano bombs, sudden shootings and visits to decadent brothels. A sexy, sometimes tender new relationship springs up between Lucifer and Charlie, resulting in moments like this:

‘ “This is meant to be my day off,” said Charlie. “Who do I talk to about overtime?”

I looked him directly in the eye and managed a smile. “Charlie, what can I say?”

He stroked my hair with uncommon gentleness. “All part of the service.” '

despite Lucifer’s best efforts to keep Charlie a detached fuck buddy. The fact that Gatiss has built a novel around a bisexual spy protagonist is marvellous. However, the problem of the novels reliance on stereotypes remains. ‘The Vesuvius Club’ is the novel with a self centred, crime solving, bisexual spy making out with a friendly, sexy, kickass gay male side kick. It is also the novel where a transsexual character is insulted by Box for being transsexual and has no space to reply to that (oh and of course that character dies, along with Mr Lee). As Sarah Rees Brennan says in her excellent essay ‘All Those Who Default From the Default Will Be Punished (But Personally I think They Will be Awesome)’, ‘it’s much easier to criticise something that’s present than to criticise the absence of something’. It’s important to remember when critiquing novels which subvert some cultural norms, but still display their own set of cultural problems, that there are billions of books out there which avoid such cultural criticism because they conform so fully to prevailing narratives. Still, it’s hard not to be disappointed at the limitations of this particular novel.

A Quick Advert Break

There are several projects I really wanted to highlight (including a couple I’m involved in) before I really get back to being focused on long bookish posts.

I'm on the Indie Lit Awards 2011panel for GLBTQ books again this year and I would love you to nominate something for our group to get excited about. The rules for nomination (shamelessly cribbed from Cass’ post) are as follows:

Anyone who is not an author/publisher/publicist can nominate! You do not need to be a book blogger to nominate books

You can nominate up to five books in each category. Please make sure they were originally published in 2011!

E-books are not eligible for nomination.

Nominations close December 31, 2011 at midnight PST and you can nominate books for the GLBTQ category here.

Cass is offering some kind of tasty invisible cookie reward for all nominators. I of course am too *ahem* classy to bribe and deceive you. I mean if you really loved me you’d nominate, but whatever... ; )Emotional blackmail - sweeter than inivisible cookies no matter what kind of icing you put on them!

The longlist for The Green Carnation Prize is out. I haven’t read along with any of the award lists this year, but I have added interesting looking books to my gigantic ‘want’ list. I’ve heard of lots of the authors whose books made it through this year, but not many of the books so lots of new novels to investigate.

The final of NHYA 2011 has been and gone. I meant to cross post all the judging decisions from each round here as the contest progressed, but I think it’s pretty clear that my blogging time has rapidly disappeared this year. To catch you up here are links to the First Round Decisions, Second Round Decisions, Third Round Decisions and Semi-Final decisions. The final decision was announced by The Booksmugglers on 14th September and their choice of winning novel was ‘What Momma Left Me’ by Renee Watson.

RIP VI is one of my favourite challenges. I’m taking the no stress approach to RIP again this year. I’m taking part in Peril the Second and aiming to read two spooky books. I plan to join the readalong of ‘Under the Dome’ by Stephen King, so I can finally return that monster to my colleague (I have had this book two years – gah!). Otherwise I’ll be trying ‘Dark Matter’ by Michelle Paver (which seems like a popular choice among readers this year) or ‘Draw The Dark’ by Ilsa J Bick which was leant to me by Ana at The Booksmugglers earlier this year. I’ve seen a lot of people’s lists already, but I’d love to hear if you’re reading something RIP related right now.

Hope you enjoy checking some of those out. What blogging projects are you really excited about right now?

'The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms' - N K Jemisin

In her review Nic from Eve’s Alexandria says that ‘The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms’ narrative is ‘neither as fragmentary and unreliable, nor as conversational’ as the first lines of the novel had led her to hope. The novel opens by thrusting the reader into the distant, distressed perspective of an unnamed narrator:

‘I am not as I once was. They have done this to me, broken me open and torn out my heart. I don’t know who I am anymore. I must try to remember.’

and for the next two pages a sense of confusion continues to interject itself, no matter how solid a narrative the speaker tries to construct. The narrator identifies herself, elaborating on her precise lineage and the several different names she can be called, but this is preceded by the words ‘But I forget myself. Who was I again? Ah, yes.’, a phrase that signals the narrators struggles with a mind that is wandering for some reason. Although, after the first few pages the narrator turns to telling the story in a linear fashion, without many further interruptions, these early pages do set up certain expectations of further, messier disorder as the novel’s action and emotion becomes more intense.

These expectations are never fully met as this disordered and raw (although still artistically controlled) narrative strand is spread almost too regularly through the novel to stylistically reflect a significant amount of pain and confusion. The narrator, quickly introduces herself as Yeine ‘daughter of Kinneth’, she is from the tribe of Darre and she is the granddaughter of Dekarta Arameri, who we later find out is the leader of the family that rules N K Jemisin’s fantasy world. She then goes on to roll out her story, in a mostly linear past tense narrative that is interrupted at intervals by Yeine’s present tense voice (sort of, there’s a surprise concealed in this element of style that I won’t spoil, because it is really interesting to discover as the novel progresses). Yeine’s less controlled side only interrupts when events in the linear narrative have reached a natural break point in the past narrative, which makes the moments when the more chaotic narrative breaks through feel too ordered by the authorial hand.

It could be that this ordered insertion of a more mysterious, chaotic narrative is a structural indication that Yeine is a mentally strong character. Throughout the novel Yeine is shown to be a strong character and perhaps her strength extends to an exertion of control over the bubbling forces inside of her, which allows her to keep their narrative disruption to a minimum. Perhaps she proves her strength by reaching set points in her narrative before allowing a less ordered train of thought dominance. Still, considering that ‘The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms’ contains central themes of madness and epic disorder I was expecting a bit more stylistic roughness, such as phrases butting in to the nice neat mapping of out memories, especially since Yeine’s present state has been established as ‘broken’ and disorientated.

However, like Nic, I found myself easily won over by Yeine and the reader barriers my expectations might have erected were knocked aside as I spent more time reading about her. Yeine is kind of amazing. Soon after arriving in Sky she discovers that it is her destiny to die in roughly a week and nothing can save her. At first she is devastated and spends a day crying for herself. She then goes on to make an alliance with the gods enslaved by the Arameri, searches for her mother’s killer, uncovers a lot of secrets, schemes to improve Darre’s poor economic situation and finds the time to form meaningful relationships with people and gods. The inclusion of her tears allows the reader to feel a level of emotional realism which makes Yeine’s later actions even more heroic, as she overcomes fear and sadness that could have understandably left her unable to act. When she arrives in Sky she’s the warrior girl who has come to avenge her mother’s death and that sounds like a kickass character description, but by the end of the book she has done so much more alongside that.

The catalyst for her story is the kind of geography spanning, detailed family politics than I adore (as long as I can keep everyone’s names straight). Yeine’s mother, Kinneth, became estranged from her biological family, the ruling Arameri, when she left their home in Sky (a crazy balancing act of a palace in the clouds that overlooks a city of the same name) to live with her lower class lover. Sky, rules the entire Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, including Darre, Yeine’s father’s homeland. Kinneth was recently murdered and Yeine assumes her grandfather Dekarta was behind the killing.

Even though the gap between Kinneth and Dekarta’s original rift and Kinneth’s death is rather large Yeine is aware that no one puts the Arameri family in the corner and stays alive. At the beginning of the novel her mother has been dead a month and Yeine has just been summoned to Sky to meet her grandfather for the first time. She goes, giving up her claim to the leadership of Darre’s matriarchal society, simply because ‘one does not refuse an invitation from the Arameri’, a comment which immediately shows the uncontested power of the ruling family and the fear they inspire. She also hopes to get close enough to confirm her beliefs about Kinneth’s murder. If she can make an opportunity, she plans to avenge her mother by killing her grandfather. That is just the tip of the crazy complicated familial relationships that Yeine has to deal with*.

Although Yeine is the narrator, the central character and such a different kind of female character (she describes herself as ‘short and flat and brown as forest wood’ and was brought up in a matriarchal society that casually derides masculinity) it is disturbingly easy for my thoughts to focus on the male second main character of Nahadoth, because he is explosive and alluring. Nahadoth, is a god who was defeated by his brother Itempas, imprisoned in human flesh and forced to serve the Arameri. He is spectacular, with all the flashiness and destruction that word implies, while Yeine’s greatness is simply human. As a god of immense power, who enjoys killing and desires seeks revenge he is a deliciously sinister character, who is bound to catch any reader’s attention, while Yeine spends the novel learning to achieve her aims through subtle political machinations. In an interesting reversal of traditional gender types Yeine is the one in control of her emotions. She is by no means schooled into hardness, but she handles herself in a compact, quiet, effective way most of the time. Nahadoth on the other hand, constantly vibrates with dangerous emotion. He is a pretty special piece of negative character creation and it’s hard not to get caught up in gazing at his brightly coloured sparks.

I don’t want to put all the emphasis on the flashy male lead and the romance, because Yeine’s individual journey is the heart of this novel. However, ‘The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms’ is undeniably a fantasy novel with a romance at its centre. The relationship between Yeine and Nahadoth, which begins with Yeine plunging a knife into his chest after he has chased her through Sky, progresses as Yeine performs a delicate dance of intellect around a psychopathic character with a soul like a dark well. Eventually their relationship becomes romantic. I know this sounds like a bad idea out of the ‘every girl loves a psychopath’ worn out drawer of misogynistic paranormal romance plots. Luckily the novel contains space for Yeine to notes the crazy dangerousness of Nahadoth, even as she notices her attraction to him. Yeine has some control over Nahadoth, which makes her superficially equal to him and her personality is solid enough to counter him sometimes, but I was pleased to see that Yeine is never allowed to be certain that she can keep him from hurting her. Their relationship is written with a full awareness of the power imbalance that necessarily exists between even the strongest woman and a paranormal lover.

The narrative also has Yeine set up her own safety barriers, even as she slowly grows closer to him, because she’s aware he can never be trusted while she is human. At first Nahadoth is that guy you don’t want to let anywhere near your favourite lady character (even though he is undeniably fascinating) who supernaturally breaks into Yeine’s room, but as his relationship with her develops he becomes more careful to encourage her to find ways to protect herself from him. He does this without removing her agency to choose a relationship with him. Their romance becomes a co-operatively shaped partnership where each person tries to do as little damage as possible to the other, but it never compromises the discomfort the reader feels at such an unequal, dangerous relationship by slipping into idealistic simplification.

Even the sex scene, which is glorious and edgy and glorious again, is under cut by fear and uneasy amnesia when Yeine awakes, reminding the reader that nothing is pure, or easy about this relationship. The narrative always encourages the reader to fear Nahadoth’s touch on Yeine’s skin, until Yeine gains a state that will make her as equal to Nahadoth and as safe from him as she can ever be. The result is a slippery beast of a romance, which confronts the culturally dominant idea that romantic feeling should blot out any reasonable objections to a potentially disturbing relationship.

In her review Nic from Eve’s Alexandria, explains that the book loses her when the romance between Yeine and Nahadoth ‘overwhelms the rest of the plot and characters’ and ends asking rhetorically ‘where did all the court intrigue go?’ Despite being desperately engaged with the romance in this novel, I agree with Nic that something central to the political plot falls down a hole, as the romance is reaching its climax. Yeine’s initial motivation for forming an alliance with Nahadoth and the gods who live with him, isn’t an offer of protection from them. They can’t keep her from dying. What they can offer her is a chance to triumph as she dies, by winning a contest to be named Dekarta’s heir. To be honest I’m not entirely sure how they were meant to achieve that, as it’s my understanding that she knows they need her to lose the contest, so she’ll be given the chance to access a vital artefact that will set the gods free, but I might be misunderstanding. Anyway, the gods take no action to help her take Dekarta’s position. Towards the end of the book it’s like Jemisin remembers that plot strand needs to be tied up, but Yeine winning doesn’t fit with her plot resolution, so Yeine just says it doesn’t matter anymore. Um. Obviously it’s a pipe dream for Yeine to be named heir, but she is such a persistent, principled character I was surprised she didn’t at least push the gods as much as possible until they tried to act, or admitted there was nothing they could do. It’s a bit of an inconsistency and suggests that the romantic storyline became so dominant that Jemisin simply ran out of room to develop this part of the political plot.

Rich, emotional fantasy novels like ‘The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms’ give someone like me the chance to splash around indulgently in the artistry of darkly beautiful pain with very little guilt, but it’s not just a personal art/emotion kink that led to my satisfaction with this novel (although, wowsa). There’s a complexity to the novel’s presentation of the world that shows just how many ways of viewing the world there really are and the impossibility of establishing definite, eternal, standards of moral judgement. Alternate ways of thinking and being are acknowledged as characters experience the fluidity of their sexuality, or love people they never thought they could. Yeine has multiple sexual partners and at no point does the romantic storyline turn into a binary love triangle with all the ramifications of anxiety and shame triangle set ups are usually accompanied by. She just sleeps with someone and cares about them, sleeps with someone else and cares about them too in a different way. Emotional paradoxes are set up. Yeine’s relationships with a couple of the other gods like Sieh are full of conflicting emotions that really push readers to think outside traditional paths. Mothers both love and hate their children. Forgiveness is offered to people who have done very little to deserve it because forgiveness can’t be earned, but then forgiveness is held out of reach because sometimes it has to be earned. Love is love, is broken, is mad.

I need awesome characters with insight, emotions and all sorts of moral compromise to make me feel synchronised with the beating heart of a book. ‘The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms’ couldn’t have provided any better than Yeine, Nahadoth and the cast of sly, sympathetic, damaged family members who surround them. Is it any wonder I bought the second book in ‘The Inheritance Trilogy’ the day after I finished it?

* It’s interesting to think how often epic fantasy takes the domestic familial relationship and politicises it, cross pollinating the two elements that lit-fic often uses to define what is good and what is great. Epic fantasy often manages to allow the ‘small scale’ family stuff to combine with the ‘big scale’ political stuff, without anyone even noticing. Interesting, right? Thanks so much for giving me a copy Meghan :)

Other Reviews

Eve's Alexandria
Medieval Bookworm
Birdbrain(ed) Book Blog
The Booksmugglers

BBAW Giveaway

I have something shiny to give away in celebration of BBAW this year. My hard back copy of ‘Slice of Cherry’ by Dia Reeves needs a new home.

This young adult novel tells the super creepy tale of Fancy and Kit, daughter's of The Bonesaw Killer. I reviewed it at ladybusiness, loved it and think it would make a perfect RIP VI read.

For a chance to win, just leave a comment telling me which part of BBAW is your favourite (it could be the awards, the interviews, Raych’s yearly sum up of blogging events, or anything else you enjoy). The give away ends Saturday 16th September 2011 at midnight GMT time. Sadly it is only open to contestants who can provide a UK, or Europe address for me to post it to (shakes piggy bank for sympathy).

Book Blogger Appreciation Week - Have You Met Meg?

Today it is my pleasure to introduce you to my interview partner for BBAW 2011, Meg from write meg!. Below she kindly answers questions about book blogging, books written by women and her literary jobs. In return I threaten all her books with vague danger!

1.) Many book bloggers create their sites because they don't know a lot of readers offline. Did something similar motivate you to become a book blogger, or is your origin story totally different?

That’s pretty spot-on, Jodie! After I left my job as a Borders bookseller in 2008, I was frantic to find a way to still talk about novels with others. My friends and family are awesome and my sister is a voracious reader herself, but few love books the way I do. I didn’t want to lose my outlet to talk about characters and narratives and excellent writing, so write meg! was born.

Though my blog had been up and running for a few months before I quit Borders, it was when I stumbled upon the book blogging community that fall – and started realizing other people were actually as obsessed with books as my little English major self – that the real magic began to happen.


2.) I see a lot of books by female authors on your review list (awesome). Do you make a conscious choice to read lots of books written by women, or do you just find yourself naturally reaching for books by ladies?

I can’t say it’s a conscious choice, but I do tend to gravitate toward authors who are similar to myself. Some of my favorite recent reads have been humorous memoirs by women with whom I can really relate, like Valerie Frankel and Jen Lancaster, and I tend to enjoy living vicariously through my novels. Since reading is what helps me make sense of the world, I tend to prefer books by female authors who often teach me about myself. Though one of my favorite recent reads is by a man! (Matthew Norman with his Domestic Violets. Hilarious and poignant – a winning combination.)


3.) I think everyone is going to want to know a bit more about those literary related jobs of yours, so will you tell me a little bit about your different columnist job and your editor positions?

Sure thing! I pen a personal column that runs twice a week in three newspapers in Southern Maryland, my home of 26 years. It started out as a small project and has blossomed into something I treasure: my humorous take on the world around me. I write about everything from trying to squeeze into a bridesmaid dress to my obsession with sock monkeys, and anecdotes about the first time I tried fried Oreos or destroyed a batch of cupcakes are sprinkled in for good measure. Though it hasn’t made the leap online yet, I’m hoping that’s in the works for 2012.

I’m also the special sections editor with the same set of papers and editor of a newly-launched health magazine in Maryland. I like words -- and spend all day writing, correcting, editing and moving them around. And it’s a point of pride that my coworkers come to me as the arbitrator of all things grammar- and spelling-related! (Though I still make mistakes, like everyone.)


4.) What makes you interested in judging literary contests like Nerds Heart YA and the Indie Lit awards? Do you have any favourite mainstream literary awards and what makes you love them? Are there any other internet great literary awards that you'd like to shout about?

I’ll be selfish and admit that judging in literary contests has helped me pretend I’m still in school. As a bona fide book nerd, getting our summer reading lists in high school and college was the most exciting part of my year. Judging in competitions like Nerds Heart YA and the Indie Lit Awards is like getting a reading list all over again – and it gives me a chance to pick up books I may never have discovered on my own, like last year’s Indie Lit fiction winner Safe From The Sea by Peter Geye.

As far as great literary awards go, I tend to follow the Orange Prize alums pretty closely -- and really enjoyed reading long-listed nominee Tessa Hadley’s The London Train this year. Though I know the awards have inspired controversy, I still think they’re an excellent way to gain further appreciation for outstanding female writers and have found some great reads that way.


5.) I'm going to be a big meanie and end by asking you to name the one book you'd save from disaster if all your bookshelves were in some kind of vague (but deadly) peril. What would you grab?

Oh, the humanity! How could you demand such a thing? You’re a cruel, heartless woman, Jodie. Heartless.

. . . But, okay -- I’m game. Since you’re not asking for the one book I’d take to a desert island or the only book I would be allowed to re-read for a lifetime, I’d have to save my personal copy of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. It’s been highlighted and dog-eared and crumpled up too many times to count, but that’s what makes it so dear to me. Both my sister and I read it in school and it remains the one book I’ve read more than twice.

You can now read my answers to Meg's questions.