Life After Life by Kate Atkinson

Life After Life
by Kate Atkinson
Hachette Audio, 2013
12 discs, unabridged

I'm really glad I chose to listen to this as audio versus reading it. This book tends to be a bit polarizing. People I talk to at the library seem to either love it or dislike it in the extreme, and I will be honest: I thought I'd be in the latter group. The last time I read some sort of critically acclaimed literary novel with some sort of fantasy/sci-fi time-bending twist it didn't really go well. Which is an understatement. So I was prepared for that this time, too. Also, I was pretty unexcited about reading a book where a child/young woman dies all the time - specifically, where the author has thought about all the terrible things that can go wrong, and variations on that theme. As the mother of a young child there are some things I don't really need help feeling anxious about.

This was so different from what I expected, and part of it was the narration. Fenella Woolgar does an astounding job: she's pleasant to listen to, her inflection is perfect and added to my understanding of the story, and I never got tired of listening to her read to me. And because of the way I process audio information, the repetition seemed rhythmic. I think reading it I might have gotten bored with the repetition, but listening to it gave it a lovely sense of overlapping variations, like a fugue.

I imagine most people are familiar with this book and its premise, but in case you are not: Ursula Todd dies a lot. Or she doesn't, really. What happens is that each time she does die - from the moment she dies at birth, the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck, to the times she dies of Spanish Flu, to the times she dies throughout WWII - she starts over again. But Ursula sort of remembers some things, gets a feeling of dread when bad things are about to happen and is thus able to avoid them, is able to change things, is able to try and try again until she gets it right. Some things are harder to get right than others. It takes a long, long time for her to get through the Spanish Flu. It takes a longer time for her to get through WWII.

But as morbid as that sounds, this isn't really a book about death so much as it is a book about life. It's a book about history, and a book about people. The fact that this is a concept book that is so well-rounded makes me understand why it's so successful. The concept is interesting (though don't go into this thinking it will be explained, or that it's a sci-fi or fantasy novel. It's not.) The characters are fleshed-out. The language is lovely. The history - it is so steeped in history without feeling like Atkinson wrote with a textbook beside her, I loved that. The plot is broken into tiny little pieces a lot of the time, and I find that interesting, not frustrating. But of all the things about this book that people might not like, I can see why that in particular is polarizing. In short, I think this book does have the total package: complex, in-depth characterization, interesting setting(s), great writing, and what I thought was an interesting plot.

I loved the little things that changed, or the not-so-little things. I loved that one got the impression that Atkinson could have just kept going. Though I was pleased with the way the 11th disc ended, I wasn't exactly disappointed there was a 12th disc - though I wasn't exactly delighted with the prospect of what I knew was coming. More about the ending at the end of this review, with very mild spoilers.

I found the characters captivating. Ursula herself is an intelligent, practical, only slightly odd protagonist; it is often (though not always) easy to sympathize with her and easy to root for her, to want this time for her to get it right. Atkinson doesn't go into detail with all Ursula's lives, but some of the things Ursula goes through are just brutal (another reason listening was a good choice for me - I didn't chicken out) and as a reader I was almost frantic that she not go down that path the next time.

Further on the characters, I loved how we were allowed to get to know Sylvie, which allows us to have some sympathy for her when she is really unlovable, and how at the very end we see Hugh a bit better and he is a little less wonderful than he was. (And the mental gymnastics this then makes us do.)

Now. The ending. It's hard to say whether there are plot spoilers, but there might be, so if you don't want those, be prepared to stop before the last paragraph. Just know that overall, I was so concerned about where things were going that I was wondering if I would actually end up liking the book. And by the end, I was so impressed that even though I didn't love the ending exactly, I was kind of amazed by the entire book. Books that amaze me are not as common as one might think from my sometimes superlative language when it comes to talking about them. This one left me feeling a little awestruck. Well worth the effort it takes, I'd say, though I think if you're the sort of person who requires an action-packed, linear plot, you'll be too frustrated to get much out of this one. Because really - it's not the ending that matters at all. It's all about the journey, again and again.

Aarti also just recently wrote about the audio version of Life After Life, and had a different experience (though gives lie to my "love it or hate it" thought, too.) Go see!



/begin mild spoilers

The ending: SO INTERESTING. Really. Structurally, the ending ... kind of ... left me speechless? So here's the thing: when Ursula got to the point of killing Hitler, I thought, right. Yes. We knew this was going to happen, it happens in the first paragraph of the book, though I partially spent the entire book trying to forget about that. Because of course Atkinson would go there, and I was disappointed, because why wouldn't you go there - the predicability was disappointing. But then that wasn't the end, though it was the end of that particular life. Atkinson kept going, and I was really relieved that we weren't ending on that note, because the book got interesting again, immediately. And though the ending was confusing and maybe bit off a bit more than it could chew, it was braver than I thought it was going to be in my wildest dreams. I love unfinished business in an ending: this ending was entirely unfinished, and I loved it for trying that.

Cold Magic by Kate Elliott

Cold Magic (Spiritwalker 1)
by Kate Elliott
Orbit, 2010
544 pages

This is a book that gets at the heart of one of the more difficult questions I face when I am thinking and talking and recommending books and writing: what carries a novel? Is it the writing? The plot? The concepts? The characters? Is it all four? Can a book succeed on the strength of one? Can it fall on the weakness of one?

I picked this book as a book club read for my adventurous genre readers, it being a very interesting example (I thought) of that particular niche of fantasy, gaslamp/steampunk. It turns out that it's not quite either, but that's neither here nor there; what it is, concept-wise, is incredibly rich. It's a fantasy set at the time of the Industrial Revolution, or what we would call the Industrial Revolution, in a world where magic is part of the fabric of society, Christianity is just a very minor sect in a large pantheon of religions, and Africa is a wasteland populated by ghouls. Amerike (sic) is populated by a birdlike, friendly, highly intelligent humanoid race called trolls, European society is heavily Roman-influenced one thousand years after the fall of the Empire, and the African diaspora has settled and become part of the fabric of society and culture such that the colour of one's skin is no indicator of heritage and someone of predominantly Celtic culture is as likely to be black as someone of predominantly Mande culture is likely to be white and children of the same parents can have varying colours of skin and hair. In other words, racism, as we know it, isn't an issue here. Magical ability, class, and wealth, on the other hand, are the main drivers of discrimination.

Sounds good so far, doesn't it? The world is incredibly complex. The cultures are carefully thought-out and inspired by a multitude of historical cultures and mythologies. The main characters aren't white, which counts for a fair bit in the world of fantasy fiction. The characters: Cat, or Catherine, and her cousin Bee, or Beatrice are two young women nearing the age of majority, educated and of a venerable, but down-on-its-luck family. They are full of new and dangerous ideas about science and technology, while still navigating their worlds with magic. Cat is an orphan, raised as Bee's sister by her aunt and uncle, and the two girls are absolutely devoted to each other. Even the concept of these characters is awesome.

Here we start to stumble a bit, but let me move on to the plot.

Which gets very bogged down very quickly with that dangerous problem of exposition. When one has a world as cool and complex and alien, but not quite alien enough, as the world of Cold Magic is, one has to explain it. And a good writer can make that happen, almost like magic, but that is not at all what happened here. There are a couple of ways to take on the problem of exposition: infodumping ("as you know, Bob, the general tried to conquer the known world but has been in prison these last thirteen years...") and thrusting the reader right into things and trusting they'll land on their feet (usually my preferred option). Elliott employs a clumsy, poorly-edited combination of the two and this is, depending on your threshold for that fourth component, the writing, disastrous.

I will be honest: I did not think I was going to make it to the end of this book. By the time I hit the ninth chapter I was furious. I had picked this book on the understanding that it was critically well-received (Publisher's Weekly, I am looking at you) and I was appalled at the writing. There were things on every single page that tore me right out of my struggling attempts to enter the world, ranging from awkward sentences to clear copy editing errors to blocks of confusing and seemingly aimless exposition. The prose veered from pedestrian to purple, occasionally laughably so. The text meandered, the dialogue was stilted, the characters unfocused. I was being treated to infodumps and I still had no idea what was going on, and what was worse, I really didn't care.

I was angry because I could see, I could feel, that there was something here. There was a kernel, maybe just the concept of the world or the idea of characters and conflict, of something that could be really interesting. And I felt that Elliott wasn't getting the editing she desperately needed. An editor should have tightened up those first nine chapters, or chopped them completely. Condensed them to one. It felt like the author was wandering vaguely in a forest of awesome worldbuilding and character description exercises and couldn't get her bearings.

But.

Once she gets her bearings, watch out.

I don't think that the writing got appreciably better, and I lost count of the number of times we were treated to the fact that the lying Romans had called the Kena'ani "Phoenicians" and the great city of Qart Hadast "Carthage." A writer with more grace would have let the reader remember those facts on her own. But what did start happening was plot. It was like Elliott suddenly knew exactly what she wanted to do with this interesting world she had built, and the characters marshalled around that, and suddenly I was nearly halfway through the 544 page book and I wanted to know what was going to happen next, because somehow, suddenly, I cared.

As E. M. Forster said, "and then what?" has a lot of power. Add some half-decent characters and some very imaginative trappings, and you have yourself a very readable book.

The problem with a read like this is that I don't quite know what to do with it. I enjoyed myself, in the end. I almost couldn't put the thing down and I definitely didn't want to. I even quite liked Cat, and loved that she was so fiercely protective of herself and her own power; if you're looking for a book with a very strong female character with a lot of agency and determination, you could do a lot worse than this one. It didn't leave me with a glowing impression, but I also wasn't left with that empty, potato-chip-gorged feeling I get when reading something I don't really like just because I have to get to the end. I liked this book and I can still respect myself in the morning.

This book succeeded on the strength of the concepts and eventually the plot, and fell down on the weakness of the writing. Depending on your threshold for each, this is a read you might enjoy, or might hate, and I think you'd be right in either case.

The Night Circus by Erin Morganstern

The Night Circus
by Erin Morganstern
Doubleday Canada, 2010
385 pages

What a lovely, lovely book. I have this thing against fantasy gone mainstream bestseller. I'm always delighted to see it happen, because I'm always happy to see people reading fantasy. But I've also always found that, to my dismay, the fantasy book that makes it big rarely makes me a happy reader. The few I've read just don't grab me; perhaps I expect too much of them. They seem bland, formulaic, and only occasionally very well written.

The Night Circus bucked the trend. It's definitely a fantasy, and it was reviewed glowingly in The Globe and Mail, and I was seeing it all over the place for a while. So I was leery. But the things Robert J. Wiersma said in his review were perfectly targeted to exactly me as a reader, so I had to give it a try.

The whole experience of reading this book is rather dreamlike. I think it's because it's written in the present tense, which threw me for a few minutes (I feel like normally I would be obliged to hate this) and then ceased to matter. But that choice means that, particularly as the circus comes into being, it does read like a dream. A wonderful dream, a complicated dream, a sometimes scary dream, but the sort of complicated, beautiful dream everyone hopes to have when they lay down for the night. It's also a puzzle, with the pieces falling into place slowly and carefully. Things that are hinted at near the beginning start to take on greater and greater importance; my favourite example is the way reading, books, and most especially stories all gain importance as the tale moves along.

If I had one small complaint, it was that while some characters leap off the pages with their quirks and desires, others remain thin or distant, even those who aren't supposed to; I loved Poppet and Widget, for example, and Bailey worked well for me, but Marco, though he was one of the leads, remained a bit of a cipher though I can't quite say why. I think I enjoyed the sections written from Cecelia's perspective better, which might have caused distance between Marco and I. Otherwise, I thought the writing was excellent, as evinced by the fact that I couldn't dump the book despite my initial reaction to its tense. The story is interesting, creative, and enchanting.

I would dare one to read this and not want to find the Night Circus, just once, and step inside its black and white gates to stare at the clock, get some popcorn and cider, and lose oneself in the dream.

Glamour in Glass by Mary Robinette Kowal

Glamour in Glass
by Mary Robinette Kowal
Tor, 2012
336 pages

I have got to get this review finished and posted. Seriously. I read this book almost a month ago, and have since been on a bit of a tear (besides this book, I have four others waiting for review too. Well, and I'm counting seven volumes of manga as one book, so...)

I'm continuing to read, sort of wandering where my moods take me. I felt like a re-read of Shades of Milk and Honey, wanting the blend of Regency manners and magic and unable to find my copy of Sorcery and Cecelia (never fear, it has since been located.) The Kowal is a little more authentic anyway, so it was a good choice. I loved it the first time around, so went ahead and got myself a copy for the Kobo, and saw at the same time that Glamour in Glass, the sequel that Cecelia first indicated to me was coming, had indeed arrived. So, yes, I bought that too. Nothing can quite match an e-reader for instant gratification when it comes to book purchasing. Still not sure I actually feel like I own the books, though. I mean, I know they're there for me to read right now when I want them, but Jean-Luc PiKobo crashed the other day, just in case I needed a reminder that ebooks aren't permanent. The crash was minor but the warning was well-taken.

Shades of Milk and Honey was at least as good the second time around; I'm not going to re-review it, as I barely have the time to review first reads. And from here on in there will be some pretty major spoilers for Shades, so... if you haven't read it and intend to, do that first.

I really enjoyed being back in the alternate history that Kowal created for Shades. She's moved out of England for this one, giving the reader a look at what life was like elsewhere -- in particular, Belgium just before Napoleon's return. Jane and Vincent are kind of on a honeymoon, kind of on a visit to one of Vincent's colleagues and friends on the Continent, M. Chartrain, and kind of working on commissions for glamours. Only not everything is quite as it appears; Napoleon may be down but he's not out, Vincent's acting strangely, and things go awry for Jane quickly.

I particularly loved two things about this book: first, I love that Kowal keeps Jane consistent. She's a product of her time, and has some conventions and ideas that feel foreign to me as a woman in 2012. Which is exactly as it should be. She's not an exceptional woman, exactly, except where she earns it; she is fierce and intelligent and therefore able to break the mold of what is expected of her as a Regency female when it's necessary, but when she does that she's bitterly uncomfortable. In this way, this book feels more realistic than many non-fantasy books I've read set in the Regency period. I'd love to talk more about this, but to be honest, I'm pretty sure I'm not up to the task.

Second, I love that Kowal can introduce tension in a romantic relationship without having one or both parties be completely stupid. This is a problem I have with many romance novels: the conflict between the hero and heroine often feels contrived, and the resulting romantic moments are exasperating rather than sweet because of that. Here it absolutely does not feel contrived; the conflict is low-key and incredibly realistic, the resulting romance satisfying, and one doesn't end up feeling like Jane and Vincent made a mistake in marrying each other. When the conflict escalates, it's for reasons that make sense for who both Jane and Vincent are.

I can't talk much more about things I thought about while reading without some major, major spoilers. Suffice to say that I think Kowal dealt well with a particular topic that can be fraught, she didn't make light of it, nor was it melodramatic. It was an integral part of the story without being heavy-handed, and Jane's emotional, private battle with herself was well-handled. I was pretty impressed.

Glad I read them, glad I bought them. I can see a re-read in the future, as I enjoyed them so much. Smart, entertaining, occasionally moving, gently romantic, always interesting... lots of good reasons to read these books.

Nell Gwynne's Scarlet Spy by Kage Baker

Nell Gwynne's Scarlet Spy

by Kage Baker

Subterranean Press, 2011

168 pages

This slim little volume is comprised of two stories: "Nell Gwynne's Scarlet Spy" and "The Bohemian Astrobleme" both of which feature a character named Lady Beatrice. I got it for the first tale, which I had originally heard of as The Women of Nell Gwynne's, a novella that won a Hugo in 2010. Frankly, I think the original title is more fetching; luckily, my most excellent local indie bookstore was able to track down this volume, as the original novella was out of print. Very pleased, because I'd desperately wanted to read this story since I'd first heard about it.

I think it was worth the wait; it was certainly diverting and well-written. It was a little more grim than I expected, but also funnier than I expected. Baker doesn't pull her punches, and though there's not a lot of graphic gore, there's a darkness to these stories that upon reflection makes a lot of sense -- the first story is an astute, if sideways, glimpse at a Victorian woman's life options. It's not a pretty picture. The second story is somewhat lighter, but the darkness blows in full force at the end. The humour is dark, too, in both of them, although it's also quite charming and often very dry in the way I particularly like. And both stories are exceedingly well-constructed.

"Nell Gwynne's Scarlet Spy" (aka "The Women of Nell Gwynne's") is almost a simple character study; at least, it starts out that way. Lady Beatrice -- not a lady, nor a Beatrice, but we never find out what name she used to go by -- was a soldier's daughter. After a pretty horrific, harrowing experience abroad, she ends up on the streets. She is brave, shrewd, and highly intelligent, though, and this gets her noticed by Mrs. Corvey, the proprietress of Nell Gwynne's, an exclusive brothel that serves customers by invitation only. It also happens to be connected to the Gentlemen's Speculative Society, a very secret group of highly intelligent men who are far, far ahead of their time. The women of Nell Gwynne's serve to gather secrets and occasionally blackmail the powerful into doing exactly what the Society wants them to do. In return, they have a relative measure of freedom, the opportunity to use their ample brains, and have use of some of the Society's fantastic inventions, not to mention a very comfortable living and an easy, early retirement.

"The Bohemian Astrobleme" is a story about what happens when the Society wants something. Lady Beatrice is involved, as is Ludbridge, a character we meet in the first story. It's an entertaining little piece, interesting and somewhat chilling, too. Because we like both Lady Beatrice and Ludbridge, and in this story they are pretty ruthless. There's a very good reason that this story was second in the pairing; characterization is very thin (it can be, because it is second) but the reader is left feeling a little alarmed by how easily we were charmed by both Lady Beatrice and Ludbridge, and how we still like and admire them.

There are a couple things that I liked about the first story especially: a) life as a Victorian woman isn't glamourized, nor is prostitution, which can be a trap historical fiction and fantasy of a certain kind falls into; and b) though there are steampunk elements, it also avoids the above glamour trap, which steampunk can certainly fall into. I felt like these stories both treated their time period respectfully -- affectionately, perhaps, and we weren't delving deeply into issues, but with a clear head.

Overall recommended, if you can get your hands on these stories. Definitely not for children or the prudish. I keep thinking of dark chocolate as a metaphor -- delicious, a little exotic, and slightly bitter in a way that makes the whole experience that much better. The writing is quietly excellent, and the story is original and diverting. I'll be reading more by Baker in the future.

Across the Great Barrier by Patricia C. Wrede

Across the Great Barrier

by Patricia C. Wrede

Scholastic, 2011

352 pages

I have to report that I did re-read Thirteenth Child in preparation for this one. I don't think I would have had to; there was recap enough to make it fine to read Across the Great Barrier without reading Thirteenth Child first, but it was a pleasant way to spend a couple of days. And I think Across the Great Barrier is a much better book for having known Eff, Lan, Wash, and some of the other characters ahead of time. I'm not sure that Across the Great Barrier is as good as Thirteenth Child, either, although I am wondering why I think that. I think it does feel slightly less focused in its plot, though that's not necessarily a terrible thing, just different. It may also be that Thirteenth introduces such a novel new world, a world I was so enchanted with and excited to discover, that it has a slight shine over its sequel. The absolute strength of these two books is the world, particularly both the systems of magic and the natural history.

In this installment of Eff's story, she is trying very hard to find her place in the world. She knows what she doesn't want to do: go out East for more schooling, like her brother Lan. But she doesn't quite know what to do with herself beyond that. Frankly, I think most people who have been 18 and faced with Big Life Choices (that one feels, at the time, are going to either make or break the rest of one's life) can understand Eff's frustration and discontent -- there are options, she just doesn't want any of them, but she recognizes she has to make a choice at some point and soon. However -- an option does present itself that gets her excited, and that is to assist the new natural sciences professor at the college with a survey of the plants and animals in the dangerous lands west of the Great Barrier. While on the survey, Eff, Wash and Professor Torgeson (another excellent, strong, interesting female character from Wrede) discover many things, some unique, some tied in to the grubs that created the crisis in Thirteenth Child, and some more sinister that point to trouble ahead in what I hope will be a third book in this series.

Eff remains an excellent character, an honest mix of competence and anxiety, still working through some of the pain and nervousness associated with being a thirteenth child while recognizing logically that it doesn't matter. She still has a deep and important relationship with her twin Lan, and a warm and loving relationship, though complex, with the rest of her family too. We see much less of their friend William in this book, which I understand but feel is a lack -- he was one of my favourite characters from the last book, and I think there are some avenues to be investigated there, including his very rocky relationship with his father.

That said, I've never expected deep, serious, cathartic investigation of Emotional Issues from Wrede; not that she glosses over things, but they're not the focus of her tales, so much as the world and the plot. She writes a good character, but they're not terribly introspective. I think Eff might actually be the most introspective Wrede character I've ever encountered.

A worthy followup to Thirteenth Child, with more fantastic world-building and characters I enjoy spending time with. I would recommend reading the other first, as I think this book builds on that one. This series is fun and interesting, and though I did buy an electronic copy I'll be buying the paperback when it comes out -- just for a little more permanence.

The Native Star by M. K. Hobson, and a new addition

**I started this review the day I went into hospital with smallfry complications, but before there was any inkling of what was about to happen. Kobo couldn't have come at a better time. I have since grown extremely attached to it, as it functions as two books in one: one that I am reading, and one that fishy is reading. We can switch off -- one interacts with smallfry, the other reads.**

So, yes. I have crossed the line: I now own an e-reader. It was a birthday present from fishy, and a perfect one; I have been curious and attracted for a while now, perhaps not enough to buy one myself but more than enough to make it an excellent gift. It is a Kobo Touch, black and smooth and not at all shiny. It makes me feel like Jean-Luc Picard, sitting at my desk, drinking my tea, and reading documents on a little black pad.

Of course, upon receiving it, the first thing I had to do (after setting it up) was see if it really is as easy as I keep telling patrons it is to download library books. I am happy to report that with a minimal amount of effort and know-how, it is. Now, I realize my definition of "minimal" and the actual experience of "minimal" for many of our patrons may be worlds apart. However, it was so simple to do that walking people through it on the phone, as I have been doing, is not the challenging proposition it might have been. (For the record: iPads are easiest to help people setup for library e-book capacity, and thus far Sony Reader takes the cake for being the more challenging of the popular brands, if we discount Kindle which is impossible. Kobo is somewhere in the middle -- pretty easy, but not without its small, usually fixable quirks and problems.)

So what did I download? Here is the challenge: I have three books on hold now, three things I have wanted to read -- but a lot (read: the vast, vast majority) of the stuff I'm interested in and most of the stuff I'm not interested in was already checked out. I think our download system may be a victim of its own popularity. So I kept browsing until I saw something that tweaked a memory... The Native Star was nominated for a Nebula some time ago, I believe, and something lead me to believe it was an alternate history fantasy with a strong romance component. Just the sort of thing I might quite enjoy as an e-read.

The experience of reading on the e-reader itself is going to take some getting used to; I still have the same problems I mentioned before, though certainly not as pronounced and very easy to overcome on a dedicated e-reader versus my laptop. I miss the ability to flip back and forth through the book quickly and easily, is the big thing, and the dimensionality of a paper book. And the attractiveness of it. Kobo has its own kind of attraction, but it is not the same sort of attraction that a beautiful hardcover or trade paperback might have. Overall, though, so far I am growing rapidly quite fond of the thing; I may even resort to giving it a name. The idea of having multiple books at my fingertips for travelling and sitting in waiting rooms (a favourite occupation lately) without giving myself back problems from carrying the weight is really extremely attractive.

Technology aside, let us move on to the meat of the thing.

The Native Star
by M. K. Hobson
Dial, 2010
326 pages

I'd blame the fact that I was up too late reading this, couldn't sleep after stopping for the night for thinking about it, and woke up at an ungodly hour to finish the damn thing on the fact that I was reading it on my new toy, but... I think anyone who knows my reading habits would sniff out the lie immediately. It has nothing to do with technology and everything to do with my own inability to let an exciting plot be.

And this is a very exciting plot. It's a travel story, an adventure story, a quest really: Emily Edwards, small-town frontier witch in California, comes into possession of a strange magical stone after a series of questionable choices. Very shortly she becomes the target of some of the most powerful men in magic, all of whom want the stone for their own aims and don't seem to care to much about what happens to Emily in the process. One disgraced warlock, the improbably-named Dreadnought Stanton, makes it his mission to get Emily to New York to the one person who may be able to help her. But the journey is perilous -- pursued by government agents, bounty hunters, and mysterious factions that Emily has never heard of, Emily and Dreadnought are in for a very dangerous, very challenging cross-country trip.

One of the things that stood out for me from the beginning was how strangely unlikeable I found some of the characters, even the protagonists. Both Emily and Dreadnought (okay, that's it, I'm calling him Stanton from now on -- you will be glad to know that his name doesn't go without comment in the book, either) are prickly, unpleasant, and mulish to begin with; Stanton is insufferable, and Emily makes some really questionable decisions straight off the bat, and then continues to be stubborn and off-putting for chapters after. This is a brave choice, to have your protagonists be difficult right at the beginning of the book. But it works here, because gradually I found myself coming to enjoy and then really like both of them. Other characters have their own quirks; while many of them only show up briefly, they are all well-described. The villain, mind you, is thoroughly despicable and irredeemable, possibly to the extreme; I found nothing to recommend him, and he was a bit of a mouthpiece for a point Hobson wanted to make. I often like my villains with a bit of ambiguity, but it didn't take away from the story here -- the complexity of the other characters made up for it.

I didn't find the writing to be spectacular; the phrase "workmanlike" occurs to me. It's not inspired, but it's also not boring or lacklustre. It's just there, and it serves its masters Plot and Character well enough. The only thing that occasionally bothered me was that Hobson can be a little unsubtle in her Messages. You know, the ones where we're looking at "racism is bad" or "rabid patriotism is bad" or "greed is bad" -- that sort of thing. There are parallels drawn with oil, natural gas, and other non-renewable resources that are pretty blatant. It got a little heavy-handed at times, but again, frankly, the plotting can carry it; or at least it can for me, because I generally agree with Hobson's views on these issues.

The world-building, on the other hand, is excellent, and worthy of notice. I would love to find more alternate history fantasy set in the Wild West if it's done as well as Hobson has done here (Patricia C. Wrede's Thirteenth Child comes to mind, though they're completely different worlds; I have enjoyed the setting of both.) There are vague steampunky elements, but they're not terribly prevalent; really, I can only point to one section with a flying machine that I would think of as straight steampunk at all. The system of magic is interesting, if slightly predictable (can anyone recommend a good fantasy where blood magic is not automatically evil? I've seen a few where necromancy gets a fair shake, but nothing with blood) and well-integrated into society as a whole. There are even anti-magic factions, a religion that struck me as particularly recognizeable and realistic. These little details were nice touches as well as plot drivers.

Overall, I think Hobson's attention to detail is what makes the book as good as it is, giving it a ring of gritty veracity. Her realistic characters and settings mean it's a much simpler task for the reader to suspend disbelief and enter the book wholesale. I would recommend this to fans of fantasy and alternate histories; I would also recommend to fans of romance, though be aware that the romance isn't a central point of the story, more of a pleasing sidenote, despite the book jacket copy. It would be a good jumping-off place for fans of paranormal romance to slide into an adventure-based fantasy, for example. There will be a sequel, I believe it's possibly already published, but the book stands on its own -- it's just the epilogue that sets up the next tale.

Shades of Milk and Honey by Mary Robinette Kowal

Shades of Milk and Honey
by Mary Robinette Kowal
Tor, 2010
302 pages

Mmm, good book hangover. You know the one, where you've just read the last several chapters in a rush and you're not sure you were breathing properly the entire time, and then your brain is still stuck in that half-fog of pulling yourself out of the book. It's not an entirely pleasant feeling, but once it's passed, the feeling for the book is really quite glowing.

I have wanted to read Shades of Milk and Honey since I saw the Big Idea post on Scalzi's Whatever blog. And I am currently (in case you couldn't tell) on a bit of a historical kick, but I was wanting a bit of the spice that fantasy brings; this seemed like an excellent choice. I am very keen on books where magic is folded into the world seamlessly and isn't so much the means to ends as it is a mundane part of daily life.

Summarizing this book is a little bit of a challenge. There is a plot. It is more of a character study, though, than anything else; we are given the story through Jane Ellsworth's eyes, a very much on-the-shelf young woman with incredible talents for glamour and art (which is what the magic of this world is called) and a reasonable if modest dowry, and not much else -- she is very plain, not terribly graceful, and as before, she is rather a lot older than most marriageable women of her day. And Jane is very stiff and proper, too. She is good and kind to a fault, often leading to spasms of guilt when the least little bit of vanity or selfishness rears its head; I think part of Kowal's success in this book is that Jane is still a fascinating character to follow, and an extremely likeable one. A character like Jane could easily become a charicature, or an unbearable martyr. That she doesn't is a credit to her creator's skill.

It took me a chapter or two to become engaged, and though there were hints of secrets to be revealed, this was the largest indicator of the slow ramping up of the plot that would make the last several chapters nearly impossible to put down. It was a book that took me a bit by surprise, in how invested I became in Jane's life and happiness and by extension those around her. I did not expect it at the beginning, and I wouldn't even have noticed how invested I had become if I didn't start catching myself sitting at the desk at work during a slow period and wondering if, just this once, it would be okay for me to read on the job.

It's a very Austen-like read, but doesn't copy Austen slavishly; I think it's also due to Kowal's skill that the book feels of its period without feeling like a gimmick. Even some of the spellings are authentic to the time period (for example, "chuse" instead of "choose") and while at first I worried it would get old I found later that it added to the atmosphere, the feeling that Kowal clearly wanted to portray. I wouldn't have noticed, I suppose, if she'd used the modern spellings from the beginning, but I forgot about the period spellings later on and they're an added bonus to the overall sensation.

The other characters are well-rounded if occasionally a bit stereotypical (Jane's mother, particularly, reminds me of several Regency mothers I've read about) and the world itself is seamless, both familiar and beautifully strange.

My only quibble, and it is a small one, is the ending. After the intense closeness of the book, the intimate connection we have with Jane, the ending (post-climax) is very... distant. It isn't an unusual choice (I felt very much the same way about The Singing, I recall, and the Harry Potter epilogue), but it's one that always feels like a bit of a letdown. There were a couple of character arcs that felt completely unresolved, particularly one of Jane's friendships, and the swift retreat of the narrative felt a bit sudden. That said, it wasn't terribly glaring as it was in the above cases, and in no way diminishes my overall warm feeling for this story.

I really enjoyed this book. A slow start and a leisurely pace worked their way into my interest quite firmly, and as I said I discovered myself thinking of it when not reading it, in the same way I often think of some of my favourite books. I'll look forward to a re-read of this one, and I'm going to be on the lookout to purchase it for my personal library.

The Pirates! in an Adventure with Scientists by Gideon Defoe

The Pirates! in an Adventure with Scientists

by Gideon Defoe

Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2004

131 pages

At one point I described this book to fishy as "Like Monty Python, but less subtle." Take from that what you will. It perhaps goes without saying that it's also not as good as Monty Python, but there: I said it anyways.

They would have hugged right there and then, but were interrupted by a further crash as first another cannonball and then a pirate screamed in through the window. The two men stood stock-still.

"Don't make any sudden movements," whispered FitzRoy to his companion. "Remember -- he's more scared of us than we are of him."

"That's bears, you idiot," hissed Darwin out of the side of his mouth. "I don't think it applies to pirates."

That's right: the scientists of whom the title speaks are none other than Captain FitzRoy (who apparently had some interest in meteorology; I actually learned something from this book) and Charles Darwin. Put on to the Beagle by a tricksy fellow pirate who assures them the little ship is carrying all the gold from the Bank of England, our intrepid, and incredibly stupid, pirate crew sinks the famous ship. Feeling somewhat badly about it, they invite the crew aboard and set sail for England, taking Darwin, FitzRoy, and the first Man-panzee in the world, Mister Bobo. This is because Darwin's brother Erasmus has been kidnapped by the villainous Bishop of Oxford, and dire consequences are hinted at if Darwin presents Mister Bobo to society. The pirates, who were in need of an adventure anyways, decide to help.

It's madcap, certainly, and at the beginning I was worried it would be so incredibly gimmicky and maybe even too silly for me, which is saying something. I had no feeling for any of the characters, the plot seemed hazy at best, and the humour felt like it would wear thin with neither plot nor characters to work with. But the thing is, Defoe seems to know the line. He doesn't overstay his welcome. This little book is exactly the right length, and a plot does surface; and what do you know, I actually developed enough of an idea of who the characters were to take an interest in them. I became particularly fond of the pirate with a scarf, who never has a name but is the Pirate Captain's second in command. Actually, the Pirate Captain grew on me too, despite myself.

I had come into reading this with some idea that it might be Pratchett-like, being British satire, and I'm pretty sure something I read somewhere lead me in that direction. I think that's where any feelings of letdown come from. I don't think there's a lot to say about society at large or really any deep themes running through it, despite the vague promise that there might be something about science versus religion. Or if there is, I wasn't induced to read closely enough to pick them out. I did learn a few things -- the footnotes, rather than being hilarious asides, are actually largely factual, adding historical context and even explaining jokes. Which... well, it seemed a little incongruous, really, and in many cases completely pointless. Though did you know that the reason our fingers go pruny in water is that the oily, waterproof layer on our skin washes off, leading water to enter our epidermis through osmosis, thus making it larger and therefore wrinkly? I think I did know that at one point, but now I know it again.

The point being, I don't think it's the book's fault that I didn't get quite what I wanted or expected. Once in my hands, it never really pretended to be anything other than what it was: a very silly adventure story with maybe enough information to tweak an interest in actually finding out more about the real Darwin. Perhaps I will finally pick up The Voyage of the Beagle.

If some clever troupe of actors with a bent for Pythonesque humour got hold of these stories, I would watch them. As a book, Pirates! with Scientists is entertaining but probably ultimately forgettable; ultra-light. I would read another Pirates! adventure, or even this one again, if it was easily handy, but to be honest I don't see myself bothering with interlibrary loan again. Not quite enough substance or hilarity to make it worth the work for our technician, but there is enough there that I don't regret reading it. Other adventures the pirates undertake include joining Ahab and going after a certain white whale, hanging out with communists, and meeting Napoleon.

His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik

There has been a delay; I don't deny it. Illness and family things and so forth, and I have not felt much like reading lately. And that is not because of the book. I have only finished one since my last post (well, and before, really) and I'm about to review it, if one can call an extended fangirl squee a review. All others I have picked up were pretty much skimmed through and dropped.

His Majesty's Dragon

by Naomi Novik

Del Rey, 2006

342 pages

Anyhow. I am rambling, because what can I say that doesn't sound delirious about Naomi Novik's His Majesty's Dragon? I love this book. I read it, and then flipped back and read parts of it, and I then did that thing I know I shouldn't do and read the first chapter of the next book in the series and now I desperately need to know what happens next.

For a brief summary, take history. Take Britain during the Napoleonic Wars. Take one very talented, principled, and dutiful captain in Nelson's Navy. Then add dragons. Actually, add one specific dragon egg, captured by that dutiful captain (let's call him Laurence) from a French man-of-war, that happens to hatch on his ship. The resulting dragon picks Laurence to be his aviator, and you have one very alarmed and disgruntled captain, a very charming and erudite dragon, and a series of extremely entertaining and somehow entirely believable adventures as they learn together how to become part of Britain's aerial defence against the dragon corps of Napoleon's army.

I love this book so much I want to eat it.

This is a book that has been carefully, skillfully crafted such that the writing fades into the background (not an easy feat), the plot sweeps you along, and the characters -- even, perhaps especially, the non-human ones -- worm their way into your heart and consciousness. The partnership of Laurence and the dragon Temeraire is so incredibly genuine and warm and wonderful, so honest and touching, that it absolutely shines in my experience of fictional friendships. Separately, they are fantastic characters and I think I love them both, but together they are unstoppable.

The world is ours but a bit sideways, and the careful work Novik has done to create it is never in-your-face evident, but always a completely reasonable and believable framework from which the story hangs. I think one of the things I can't quite understand, but absolutely appreciate, is how believable everything is. I think it may be partially how everything is so understated, related to the reader as common-place, and also that we experience most of the fantasy elements through an outsider's eyes. Laurence has always been aware of dragons and the Aerial Corps, but that has not been his world up to the beginning of the book. As it begins to become his world, we are slowly accustomed to the changes as he begins to grow accustomed to them, too.

It is a great adventure, and a stirring one. There is little to no romance, for those who find that tiresome, and for those of us who usually prefer to have at least a hint of it somewhere, I can solemnly swear that I did not miss it in the slightest. There are things to be said about the nature of duty and loyalty and friendship, about civility and honesty, kindness, and the sorrows and horrors of war. None of it is said in a preachy or intrusive way. It is integral to the characters and plot. All of this -- the world, the relationships, the philosophy, could be clumsy or over-the-top in the hands of the wrong writer. But this one gets it right.

What saddens me is that while I have seen this book crop up various places over the past two years, if our library statistics are anything to go by, not nearly enough people are reading this series. If you are a history buff looking for fiction out of the norm, try this. If you are a fantasy fan but aren't sure you're a fan of historical fiction, try this. If you're a fantasy fan who has read everything and want something new, try this. If you want a great, well-crafted, entertaining, heartening story, read this book. I might even try it on my father, who doesn't really go for fantasy -- but I think there are elements in here that he, as a reader of James Clavell and Wilbur Smith will like. You will be hearing about more Novik from me shortly, and if Throne of Jade is any bit as good as its predecessor, you can bet that Novik will be the next on my list of authors to autobuy. If I can stand Laurence and Temeraire being thrust into more danger for foolish political reasons, that is...

Magician's Ward by Patricia C. Wrede

Magician's Ward
by Patricia C. Wrede
Tor, 1997
288 pages

The sequel to Mairelon the Magician sees Kim and Mairelon a year after the events of the first book have closed. I was right; I have read this before. And actually, I think I enjoyed it as much as Mairelon the second time through, so that's good; I remember not enjoying it as much the first time through. There certainly isn't as much adventure, and like Kim I kind of missed the freedom she and Mairelon and Hunch shared while they were out in their wagon. But, since I am in a Regency mood, I quite enjoyed the manners and social protocol stuff, and the restrictions Kim faces are an interesting contrast to the "freedom" she had in the first book. I'm trying to remember if I first read this before I read Pride and Prejudice (I know, I know, it's stereotypical but it was my first Austen and it remains my favourite) and I think perhaps I did, which meant that I wasn't as familiar with or enamoured with that period as I am now. It certainly came before any Julia Quinn, which this also reminded me of.

So, the book starts quickly. Kim has been made Mairelon's ward, and she's been learning magic as well as various other niceties of society. They've arrived in London for the Season. Unfortunately, Mairelon's aunt is also in London for the Season, and she's quite set on making sure that Kim doesn't disgrace the Merrill family, and the best way to do that is to get her married off quickly and quietly, if that's even possible with someone of her background and station. Mairelon's been busy since they've been back in London, leaving Kim to her own (or, more accurately, his Aunt's) devices, and all the attendant societal restrictions. So she's rather miserable. And then, right off the top, someone breaks into the house, into the library. Kim foils the plan, and though the burglar gets away, he leaves behind some tantalizing clues. Things continue to get curiouser and curiouser, and then much more serious when a potentially devastating trap is sprung. Kim and Mairelon will need all their ingenuity and various skills to come through this adventure unscathed.

While I don't think this is quite as good as Sorcery and Cecelia, I do think it's as good as Mairelon the Magician, just in different ways. There's not as much out-and-out action; it's a little more subtle. This is not to say that this book doesn't have some exciting action -- my favourite scene in the book involves Kim dressing up as a lady and blowing into a moneylender's office with all the brashness and physicality of her street days. There are chases, rescues, and magical attacks. There are also some quietly funny moments, and some sweet and tender moments, too.

One of the weaknesses of the book, though not enough to turn me off it, is that there are some threads and characters that are introduced and then seem to vanish almost as quickly. I can think of three off the top of my head, including the possible menace of Jack Stower, one of Kim's street nemeses. He's reintroduced, and then that never really goes anywhere. It's almost as if he's there just to give Kim something to fret about.

Thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyable rags-to-riches type story; can stand alone but is far better having read Mairelon the Magician first. I don't think there are any plans to bring back Kim and Mairelon, which makes me kind of sad. I really love Kim as a character; she's very human, and refreshing, smart and wry. It was wonderful fun to spend time with her again, and I'm sure I'll revisit.

Mairelon the Magician by Patricia C. Wrede

So, I have been having trouble finding things I want to read. It's been pretty serious; it has been to the point where I feel irritated with books just for sitting there on the desk, accusing me. This happens sometimes with various aspects of my life, but only very rarely with books. So I went back to my old standby: fantasy written by authors I know I like. I settled on Mairelon the Magician because I couldn't believe I hadn't read it yet; I love Wrede's writing, and her stories which are generally gentle on the brain, and her feisty, witty, and intelligent female leads.

Of course, when I picked it up, it turns out... I have read it. I had just forgotten what the title of that particular story I loved was. Also, I am pretty sure I have read the sequel, Magician's Ward, and recall enjoying it if not being quite as enamoured of it as I was the first book.

So anyway, I read Mairelon again, and I think I have enjoyed it even more the second time, because I know what to watch for. And I read it much more as a fantasy with hints of Pygmalion than I had before, too, though not sure why that slipped me by last time as it's really quite blindingly obvious, down to Mairelon teaching the guttersnipe Kim to speak properly so as to be presentable in society. That said, Mairelon is not half the ass Higgins is; this reads like an entertaining rags-to-riches fairytale rather than a prickly lampooning of classism and sexism. And while I appreciate Shaw's brilliance and have always liked Pygmalion (particularly with its unromanticized ending) it's not exactly an easy, fun read. Mairelon is. Where Pygmalion is funny and wince-inducing and occasionally horrifying, Mairelon is funny and sweet.

The premise is that Kim is a street kid in an alternate London, where magic is known and practiced, sometime around the early 1800s. She's managed to disguise herself as a boy so far, though her luck on that is going to run out shortly. So that's why she takes a job snooping for a man she doesn't trust; he's promised her five pounds and that money might just be enough to get her off the street. Unfortunately, the snooping takes place in a wagon that happens to be owned by a real magician, and Kim springs a trap. But rather than turning her over to the authorities, the magician thinks Kim might be somewhat useful to him and offers her a job as his apprentice. She takes it, because it gets her out of London -- and Kim's curious as to what the mysterious Mairelon is truly up to.

I really did enjoy this book, thoroughly, and I've actually ordered A Matter of Magic in for purchase at my favourite local bookstore -- that's the recently released omnibus edition that includes Mairelon the Magician and its sequel, Magician's Ward. It's a good re-read, and has firmly established itself in my list of comfort books. There's something about the Regency time period, magic, Wrede's sense of humour, and romance, that I just cannot get enough of. There's enough action to keep the plot clipping along smoothly, the villains are creepy enough (Laverham, Kim's nemesis, is downright chilling) and the world believable enough to create an excellent whole. This isn't serious, hard, thought-provoking reading. There's no deeper message, no social commentary other than the obvious bits on the surface. It's an absolute riot, though, and exactly my kind of thing.

And I couldn't get enough of it, so I read Sorcery and Cecelia all over again. That re-read review will be coming up.

Thirteenth Child by Patricia C. Wrede

How does Patricia C. Wrede do it? After not reading anything by her for years, I've read two books by her (or one half-by her, I guess) recently and decided upon completion to immediately purchase them both. With this book the compulsion was even stronger than with Sorcery and Cecelia. This book is just brilliant. It is compulsively readable, understated, and deeply interesting. There is humour, there is pain; there is beauty, there is ugliness. Although I think, in keeping with how I feel it's understated, we are left to imagine the pain and the ugliness, and this is not by any means a dark book. I first learned of this book back in April 2009 from Abby (the) Librarian, who wasn't as effusive in her praise as I am about to be, but enjoyed it enough to pique my interest.

I often view Wrede as a light read, which is not entirely true. Yes, the Enchanted Forest Chronicles are pretty light, a whimsical and entertaining retelling and re-imagining of fairytale and fantasy conventions. Thirteenth Child, on the other hand, is an entertaining pioneer story, a western with a healthy dose of magic. The world that Wrede creates is fascinating, tied to our own by familiar names (only Pythagoras and Ben Franklin and Thomas Jefferson were also extremely powerful magicians) and concepts -- the push of settlement to the west, the pushing back of the wild frontier. And though she doesn't delve deeply into issues like destruction of wildlife and habitats, and human hubris and blinkered thinking, it's touched upon, brushed upon in such a way that it's there to be thought about if the reader so chooses. She also deals outright with bullies and human potential, in a much more obvious but only rarely heavy-handed way.

Eff is a thirteenth child. In Avrupan culture, the culture in which she grows up, the thirteenth child is terribly unlucky at best and outright evil at worst; there are hints that these children would be killed at birth, at least in the past. Luckily for Eff, her parents will have no stock with that, nor will her twin brother Lan, a lucky and powerful seventh son of a seventh son. But Eff does have to deal with the taunts and worse of her extended family and the other children until her father accepts a position out west teaching magic at one of the new colleges, and the Rothmer family (those young enough to still be living at home) picks up and moves to Mill City. Here no one knows Eff is a thirteenth, although Eff herself can't forget it. The story chronicles Eff's life from the time she's old enough to remember anything at roughly three or four to eighteen as she starts to come in to her own. It's told in first person, in Eff's wonderfully distinctive, practical and variously wry or earnest voice. It's a marvelous tale and I love it.

We see through Eff's eyes, and she's a perceptive little thing. Through her we get a feel for many of the other characters around: her twin Lan, who she adores and who adores her, but neither are without their flaws; Papa and Mama, the centre of the enormous Rothmer family; Eff's siblings, some of whom we get to know better than others; Eff's aunts and uncles, the awful lot of them (though, again there are shades of awful and some are not as they seem at first); the professors at the college, Eff's teachers, and their fellow students. William, Lan and Eff's best friend, who grows and changes as Eff and Lan do, and is one of the better fleshed-out characters. It's a big cast, but the important players are real and wonderful. There are no straight-up villains, either, except for perhaps Eff's Uncle Earn, who plays a relatively small role except in Eff's head. The struggles come more from Eff's own complex about being thirteenth (brought on by Earn) and from nature.

Which gets me into an aspect of the book I really liked. I've always wished that someone could turn back time and tell the settlers that killing everything is perhaps not the most intelligent way to go about things; watching this story unfold was interesting, because those thoughts are addressed mostly obliquely, but I think they're there. Towards the end with the introduction of the naturalist and travelling magician Wash this issue gets a bit more attention. There's no denying that the frontier, the world outside the Great Barrier, is a very dangerous place; it makes me wince, in Wrede's history as in ours, that the solution to the problem is killing the creatures, eradicating them entirely so that they won't be a problem. The dangers are given mythic status by the settlers and those back home, largely due to ignorance. Even right on the frontier the wild animals, both magical and not, are feared absolutely and those who willingly go outside the Barrier are viewed with awe. The disaster at the climax of the story is environmental in nature, and was handled in a way that makes the reader think about who is to blame for it, and what lessons might be learned in this alternate history from it. It's never shoved down our throats, though.

And imagine my delight when I discovered that this is the first of a projected trilogy, all to be narrated by Eff. I'm really, really looking forward to the next one. Highly, highly recommended. I hope this series finds a wide audience.

Bridge of Birds by Barry Hughart

Some books are good. Some books are special. Some books, like Bridge of Birds, end with the reader feeling like they have been given a precious gift.

My history with Bridge of Birds goes back a long, long way. Something like ten years, really, to when I was first playing around on this really cool bookstore site called Amazon. This book caught my attention somehow, and I thought it looked fascinating, but I never quite got around to ordering it. It was the first book on my wishlist, though. Years have gone by, and Bridge of Birds has remained on my reading periphery, patiently waiting for me to finally come across a copy and open it. And then about two weeks ago I was feeling like something different, something new. And this book took that moment to strike. "What about me?" it asked, politely. I plugged the title into the library OPAC, and there it was. There's only one copy in the whole system, but I brought it home with me, then sat and stared at it for a couple of days. I've always avoided reviews of this book, and I very deliberately did not read the jacket summary -- I didn't want to spoil anything for myself. All I knew about it was that there was a character named Number Ten Ox and a bridge involved. One might think with all this buildup, the years of anticipation, that I might have found this book to be a disappointment. I am so happy to report that it was not.

It was different, though. I had no expectations other than that it was set in Ancient China, and that it was a fantasy. And, thanks to Aarti, I suspected that Number Ten Ox might be a really wonderful character. I didn't know anything about any of the other characters or the structure of the story. I'm not used to reading like that; I usually have a pretty good grasp of what's about to happen and who the main characters are. Going into this pretty much blind was interesting, and because the rhythm of the writing was unusual and the setting was so unfamiliar on the surface, and I kept getting distracted by wondering how familiar with Chinese history Hughart is, because I'm certainly not, so sifting pure imagination from actual Chinese mythology isn't something I'm able to do.

After a while this all ceased to matter as I got tangled in a beautiful, precise web. I don't know how much I want to say as a summary; perhaps it will suffice to say that there is indeed a wonderful character named Number Ten Ox, an even better one (sorry Aarti!) named Li Kao who has a slight flaw in his character, fairytales and labyrinths, children in danger and ghost stories. It is a mystery, and it is a fantasy, and it's an adventure and a caper, too. For the most part it's written wonderfully, with a small bit of clumsiness here or there -- I make note of it only because it does stick out when the usually subtle foreshadowing slips, since that's such a rare case. Most of the time the writing is clever, light and often funny, and feels even more clever in retrospect.

I need to read it over again, because it is so precise. It's a little circular, coming back on itself in both action and even phrasing, such that the reader will occasionally think, I've been here before. And they will probably be right. Having been to the end and seen the knots undone now, I want to read it over to understand better, to see what I missed, and to enjoy again the careful prose and detail, and gentle humour. It's a children's story for adults, and it reflects on the power of stories, and the truths hidden in fictions and games, which is a favourite theme of mine.

I get the feeling this isn't much of a review, and I'm not quite sure how to fix it. I just think that this is a book that one should experience on one's own. Aarti has a great review as well as a very persuasive perspective on why you should read this book. Give yourself some time to sink into it, because if you are like me it will take a little while (or it might not; might just have been me freaking myself out over finally reading it after all this time) and let the story take you where it will. And be prepared that somewhere toward the ending of the book, it will reach up and grab you and not let you go until the last page is done and you'll discover not only have you stopped breathing properly, but your eyes might just be the tiniest bit damp.

Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld

I'll post this review on the eve of Leviathan's official release, in hopes of generating a bit more buzz, if that's even possible. I will admit, I was pretty psyched about reading this book, and so I did sneak a peek at the first chapter before I went off on vacation, and I liked what I saw immediately. I knew I would, thanks to Abby's excellent review. I'd not heard about this book before it, and decided I must have a copy of my own after it.

First though, let me say that this book is gorgeous. Of course the contents are important, and I'll get to that in a minute -- but this book is just beautiful. The font is nice, the paper is thick, the illustrations by Keith Thompson are absolutely perfect, the insides of the covers are just stunning. A lot of thought has gone into the presentation of this story, I think, and I like that a lot. It makes the price of a hardback more than worth it. So, kudos to the Simon Pulse imprint for that.

In case you've missed it (there's been a fair bit of blogger buzz about this book) the plot rolls something like this. It is the eve of the First World War. Alek is a Hapsburg prince, possible heir to the throne of Austro-Hungaria, rousted out of his bed in the middle of the night by two of his tutors and taken on a journey that quickly becomes mortally dangerous. Deryn is a fifteen-year old girl, desperate to fly, desperate enough to disguise herself as a boy and join the British Air Force. By luck, both good and bad, these two with deep secrets end up together on the British airship Leviathan. And, at the end of the book, their journey has really just begun.

I feel it's my duty to warn you now. There are a lot of unresolved questions at the end of this book, not the least of which is whether everyone is going to survive. I cringe at the thought of how long I have to wait for the next one (October 2010 - one. whole. year. *wails*)

Everyone includes the ship, because Leviathan is a Darwinist creation, a fabricated animal. In Westerfeld's alternate history, Darwin not only discovered evolution, but he discovered DNA and how to manipulate it. Using his techniques, scientists (Deryn charmingly calls them "boffins" and they all wear bowlers, which is awesome) are able to create chimeric creatures that replace most of what machinery would do in our familiar history. Leviathan, for example, is nominally a whale-type creature, but she flies in the air using hydrogen she excretes and captures in a series of hydrogen bladders. The Darwinists have created these animals in very intricate ways, and a big airship like Leviathan is actually an entire functioning ecosystem.

Lest you think our industrial age is forgotten, however, there are also Clankers: some countries have become extremely technically advanced, shunning Darwinist creations as "ungodly" and creating great engines and machines, tank-like walkers and airplanes running on fossil fuels, to match the Darwinist creations. And the Darwinists and the Clankers are both morally and technologically opposed -- and thus, there is war. While Westerfeld has the same trigger for the war as happened in our timeline, many of the surface reasons for the war are different.

The world Westerfeld has created is both really cool and not one I would want to live in. I don't like the idea of the Clankers, the filthy, destructive, fossil-fuel guzzling machines they create -- but I also have a lot of trouble with the idea of living creatures as war machines and tools. I've always thought that the stories of bats and pigeons and dogs and dolphins trained to be weapons of war are sickening. War is a human endeavour, and animals should have no part in it, whether they've been created for that purpose or not. When the ship Leviathan is strafed with machine gun fire, she feels pain; as a "whale," I'm pretty sure she's intelligent enough to feel fear when attacked, and yet she's driven right into battle. And I really don't like that thought at all.

So it's a very interesting read from that perspective, and will likely stand up as a book that both adults and kids can read and have deep discussions about. But that's not all. The characters that move in this world Westerfeld has created are compelling. Both Alek and Daryn are intelligent, brave, and flawed human beings, desperate to keep their secrets and do what they feel is right. Alek in particular made me shake my head at points, but the things he did were still internally consistent with who he was.

Deryn was a little crazy but I especially liked her. She's funny, too; her ways of speech are filthy (without actual swearing) and her observations of others are often dead on. And while I'm not often a fan of the "I'm really just pretending to be a boy!" character, I completely understand and sympathize with Deryn's reasons. There is no way she would be allowed to be where she is, doing what she does, if she'd applied for the Air Force as a girl, so deception -- and the associated dishonesties even with those she grows fond of -- is absolutely necessary.

Overall, I highly recommend this book. I'd recommend it to anyone with a taste for fast-paced adventure. People who have read and liked Airborn by Kenneth Oppel especially will probably also like this book, although it does have a completely different flavour. I haven't read anything else by Westerfeld, but I'd be interested to hear from someone who has read this and his Uglies books, to see what they think. And I'll definitely be picking up Uglies some day soon.

Next I had to read something that has nothing to do with war, violence, or murder. That's right: historical romance. I've been laying it on rather heavy lately, with the war and the crime fiction. Needed something happy, something pink: stay tuned for a review of Mary Balogh's First Comes Marriage.

Skybreaker by Kenneth Oppel

I'm a little mixed on Skybreaker, although I promise that it falls well on the side of "this is an awesome book" in the end. It wasn't as shiny wonderful as Airborn is, I guess -- my expectations were set foolishly high, and so it's not terribly surprising that in some ways Skybreaker fell a little short.

We start quite promisingly. Matt Cruse is completing a field placement for school -- he's a student now, at the Airship Academy -- on a rickety old freighter named, appropriately, the Flotsam. Caught in a storm and pressed forward by their foolhardy captain, the Flotsam nearly wrecks, saved only by Matt's quick thinking and mutinous action. But before they manage to get the ship under control, they have seen what many think impossible: the airship Hyperion.

The Hyperion had vanished nearly forty years before, and with her, what is believed to be a huge fortune in gold. Soon Matt, the only one who can remember the co-ordinates of the lost ship, is dodging pirates again, and then he's off to catch the Hyperion, helped by a Rom girl named Nadira, Kate de Vries, and the salvage skybreaker captain Hal Slater (along with the, er, "charming" Miss Marjory Simpkins, and Hal's truly charming crew). Things become complicated by a love quadrangle, dangerous airborne creatures, yet more pirates, brilliant inventors, and good old-fashioned greed.

In trying to put my finger on what I found less than engaging about this book, I'd have to say that the love quadrangle probably comes out as the culprit. I'll admit I'm prejudiced against them anyways, but this one didn't feel particularly well done to me. Because of the relationship tangles, much of the time we spend in Matt's head is spent on both confusion and frustration. It does feel pretty genuine to the teen thought process: "I felt pulled in different directions, and I hated it. I did not like myself" says Matt at one point, and boy, do I remember feeling that exactly. But for the most part, it really didn't click with me; and at times, the characters didn't feel like they were clicking with each other, even when they were supposed to. Furthermore, the resolution to this whole situation was just... way too fast and convenient, although the book immediately gets a lot better as soon as the situation is resolved.

The other thing I didn't buy was Matt's supposed newfound greed. At all. I think he buys it, but I didn't. It's just not in his character, and it's not portrayed convincingly enough for me to believe that he had such a change of personality. In fact, it seems a bit uncharacteristically ham-fisted of Oppel -- but again this was a major driving force for Matt's actions, at points, and so I had to buy it a little bit. So I deliberately suspended disbelief.

At this point, you might be wondering what did work well. The setting, once again, is just incredible. It feels completely real and it was completely creepy at points, too. The Hyperion is a ghost ship; for all intents and purposes, she is shipwrecked -- it's just that she's floating, not at the bottom of the ocean. I've always had a strange relationship with shipwrecks. I grew up spending summers swimming over the two schooners washed up in the cottage bay, and to this day I am both drawn and frightened by them. So the setting, on this aged and very eerie airship, is very very much my kind of thing. Is she haunted, is she not? Just where is the little manservant's body? And is anything, at all, left alive?

Another thing I really liked was the characterization work on Hal Slater, the captain of the salvage ship. He's not a villain, and he is a hero, but he's also not tremendously sympathetic. He's mercurial, and the reader doesn't know what to expect of him any more than the other characters do. His character is complex and fascinating, and an interesting exercise is to read him and wonder exactly how it is that he is so unlikeable and yet still almost likeable. He's the sort of character not seen particularly often in books for kids, or adults for that matter -- and I'm not sure I've ever encountered an unsympathetic central character who isn't a villain written so well.

And finally -- the last several chapters of this book just fly. They are so good. They make up for the frustrations I had with the earlier parts of the book. More than. There was a little twist at the end that I didn't see coming, although it was so perfect that I felt I should have seen it. There were times, through the last chapters, that I had to put the book down and go do something else for a bit -- but not too long! -- just so I wouldn't injure myself with my tensing. I'll admit I wasn't particularly anxious to read Starclimber, but then I got to the end. Now Starclimber is on hold at the library for me. This isn't a cliffhanger situation, by the way, although there are a number of little unanswered questions. I just want to spend more time in Matt's world.

If you like a good adventure, please read these books. Start with Airborn, and stick with the parts of Skybreaker that frustrate you (if they even do -- I might just be more prejudiced against love quadrangles than I realize myself) because the payoff is so very, very great.

Airborn by Kenneth Oppel

Currently, if I was asked to pick my favourite adventure story, I would jump up and down and wave Airborn around like a fool. This book is amazing, everywhere from the fast-paced, fascinating, and layered plot to the deep, sympathetic characters to the imaginative setting. This book is well-crafted and very well-written.

I've been meaning to read anything by Kenneth Oppel for a while. His book Silverwing struck me as a very creative idea with a ton of potential, but I hadn't quite gotten around to it -- many, many years after it's been published -- and then Airborn caught my eye. I've always loved the idea of airships -- what would have happened if the Hindenburg disaster had never happened? What if there was some lighter-than-air element that was available in large amounts, and inert? (Even better if it smells like mangoes!) Oppel appears to have been curious about the same questions. I think he's fascinated by anything flying.

Matt Cruse, our first person narrator, is fourteen years old when the story opens, and he participates in a daring mid-air rescue of a balloon pilot stranded over the Pacificus. A year later, the balloonist's granddaughter comes aboard the Aurora, the airship on which Matt is the cabin boy, to prove that her grandfather was not, as many have suggested to her, insane -- that there is an undiscovered species of aerial animals that congregates over an island in the Pacificus. And then there is a pirate attack, and the adventure begins...

The thing that makes this book so easy to read is Matt. He's a great narrator, fairly self-aware but also subject to very human flaws. He's interested in all the things I'm interested in as a reader, and he's not afraid to admit when he's been wrong although he may not be happy about it. He's a very hard worker, abides by the rules, and he loves what he does. He idolizes the Aurora's Captain Walken, has a chummy relationship with his cabinmate Baz, and absolutely adores, without reservation, the Aurora herself. Through his eyes, the airship takes on a character of her own and we come to love her too. Maybe not quite as much as Matt, but I'm pretty sure that's not possible.

And then there's Kate de Vries. From her spectacular entrance, Matt is alternately fascinated, attracted, and infuriated by Kate. She's a girl his own age with money to spare, and she's on a mission. She's not hampered by her ineffectual and highly irritating chaperone, she's spirited, and she's very, very smart. She's single-minded, occasionally to the point of being a danger to those around her, but she's never deliberately malicious, just enthusiastic and thoughtless. She loves books and words and ideas, but most of all she wants to be a scientist and isn't prepared to abide by society's rules when they stand in her way. Which they do, because the book is set in a time period somewhat before the 1920s, perhaps closer to the late 1800s. A reader more versed in history will probably figure that out a lot easier than I, but it's never stated and I don't think it needed to be.

I think this quote goes straight to the heart of Kate's character, and illustrates why I love her so much:

"We just start," she said. "Bones could be anywhere, if the creatures just fell from the sky. Of course, they might have been picked up by other animals. Unlikely, though -- there are probably no substantial mammals on the island." A little furrow of concentration appeared over each eyebrow. "But all animals feed on carrion. So, around trees with bird nests, or the lairs of skinks and lizards." She paused. "That's fun to say. Skinks and lizards."

See?!

Actually, Oppel knows how to use dialogue to expose character and does it well. I really enjoyed his dialogue. Take this interaction between the captain and his first mate:

"Well then," said the captain, "I believe this may be a good time to organize a party to explore the island."

"There may be inhabitants, captain," said Mr. Rideau.

"Precisely what I am hoping," said the captain.

"They may be a savage lot, sir, with no love of visitors."

"We shall have to be exceptionally charming, then," said the captain.

Captain Walken is a great leader. He's calm and professional and unfailingly positive even in the face of disaster; Mr. Rideau, on the other hand, is a rigid, by-the-book officer and prone to narrow-mindedness.

Since this post is starting to get dangerously long, two more quick points on why I think this book works so well. First, the aerial animals that Kate is chasing? They stay wild. They're a large predator, and like any large predator they are both beautiful and unpredictable. Oppel never offers to make them anything but a wild animal -- they're not preternaturally intelligent, or friendly towards humans just because -- and I appreciate that. Because this book is not that kind of book and was never set up to be.

Second, the villains. They're villainous, and dangerous, and generally very despicable. But they're not inhumanly evil. Not all of them are as fleshed out as the pirate leader, Szpirglas, but Oppel does a good job with a very little bit of space in the book of showing the humanity of his villains which makes their villainy both sad and even more frightening.

Overall: Airborn is a great adventure tale for any age, thrilling and touching, funny and occasionally sad. The characters are all genuinely wonderful and the setting is brilliant. Highly, highly recommended. I'm asking for it for my birthday because I'm going to read this one again and again.