I don't know if I'm totally qualified to judge the poetry of this stunning little book - my English Lit A-level was quite a while ago now, and it's noI don't know if I'm totally qualified to judge the poetry of this stunning little book - my English Lit A-level was quite a while ago now, and it's not as if any school course can really teach you about poetry, not in a way that matters (unless you were blessed with a truly amazing teacher, maybe).
All I can say is that I loved it. The beautiful cover grabbed my attention, and the concept - two cosmos-creating goddesses and their romance - convinced me to take a risk on this verse-novella. I've never actually enjoyed a novel in verse before, but if ever a book deserved supporting it was this one, right? And the risk definitely paid off! Despite holding myself back a little during the first few pages - bracing myself for disappointment - the wonderful Seya and Tia pulled me into their gravity almost immediately. I found myself cradling my ereader in my hands and holding my breath as the two goddesses narrated their story by turns - the whole world just stopped and disappeared as I reread verses and entire chapter-poems, both to marvel over them and to make the book last a little longer. When it was over, there was this pure silence in my head for what felt like a very long time.
The book is divided into alternating chapter-poems, many named after a cosmological object or phenomenon, as Seya and Tia take turns telling their sides of the same story. I can't really express how incredibly clever and appropriate it seemed to see their story laid out in terms of white dwarves and pulsars - because of course they and their relationship both grow as the universe they built together does, every star and planet marking an event in their time together - as Seya says at one point, 'Do you remember all those stars we hung...I made them each my shrines/to us...full of old and beautiful memories./They are too painful to delve/into now'.
That's just a tiny glimpse of the exquisite imagery that fills these pages, by the way.
The poems themselves vary between those that do not rhyme and those that do - that any rhyming scheme was used at all surprised me, since I haven't seen it in verse stories before. But there's an inescapable rhythm that pulls the story along - not the same all the way through; the structure of the poems shift and change beautifully, reflecting what they convey - that taps into your heartbeat like Shakespeare is supposed to do, but rather than keeping it steady makes it dance. The overarching story - I'm not sure, but I think it follows the Big Crunch theory, that of a universe which bursts into expansion, only to finally fall in on itself and compress in a reverse big bang - the big crunch - which in turn fuels another expansion, the birth of a brand-new universe. That's my interpretation of how we mortals would experience or explain Seya and Tia's tale.
And speaking of Seya and Tia - I am amazed and delighted by how Murray managed to create and write two characters who are unquestionably deities, and who are thus more-than- or un-human - and yet are so beautifully painfully human at the same time. The moment when things start to go wrong for them - I know that moment! I have lived that moment, I have done what Tia did for the sake of people I love, and I was not expecting to be so gut-punched by such a relatable, familiar pain and mistake! Is it odd that that makes me really happy, that Murray wrote something nearly all (if not all outright) of us can immediately understand and recognise? It probably does, but that's not relevant. What's relevant is how heart-in-your-mouth it feels to read this common human mistake writ out in terms of galaxies and gravity, made into something awesome (in the original sense of the word, awe-inspiring and terrible) even as it's such a fundamentally human thing. I can't put it into words, but oh, how perfectly it's captured in Murray's poetry!
'so I bring down the stars in a shower of luminescent tears.
All of this was once ours! Until, except, why did you --'
That even a goddess is reduced to speechlessness... I just can't get over how powerful it is.
Not, by the way, to suggest or imply that Tia is the 'villain' for making her mistake. She isn't at all, and neither is Seya. This isn't that kind of a story - it's not some 'Rachel & Ross' thing where everyone picks a different side; they both make mistakes, but not the kind that could make anyone question their love for each other. (If anything, the exact opposite - their mistakes are the kind that can only be fuelled by love.) Even as deities they refuse to be defined - Seya isn't simply a 'creation' goddess any more than Tia is nothing but destruction. Seya breaks stars to make new ones. Tia creates planetary rings and the molten cores of the planets themselves. I don't know if there are words in English for how inextricable from and vital to each other they are, but it's wonderful to see goddesses too complex to be pinned down in a simple box. It's not light vs dark here, even if those things are still important.
This is the book that proves that some stories belong in verse. All the ones I've seen before - the poetry just felt like a gimmick. Here, it is beautiful and powerful, the only thing that could come close to doing justice to this story and these characters. I love poetry, I know how stunningly powerful it can be, but Birthing Orion has reminded me that the stories that are too big and too much for prose - poetry is the only art form we have to express a love story told in stars.
I expected a let-down that couldn't live up to its premise. What I got is something that blew me away and captured my heart and definitely won't be giving it back. Instant favourite, dearly beloved, and without question one of my best reads of the year.
Half-Witch, Half-Witch, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
*happy sigh*
Genuinely, though, I have no idea where or how I found this book. I can Half-Witch, Half-Witch, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
*happy sigh*
Genuinely, though, I have no idea where or how I found this book. I can find no mention of it on my favourite book blogs, so presumably none of them recommended it to me. My friends have never heard of it. It appeared on none of the newsletters I subscribe to. Where did it come from? Did I just happen to stumble through the wardrobe while browsing Amazon and come upon it by pure chance? Did I wake up one morning with it already waiting for me on my ereader? Did the Pixie Queen descend from on high in her dolphin-drawn clamshell-carriage and present it to me, then wipe my memory?
I have no clue. And that air of mystery and subtle magic is perfect appropriate, because I'm not sure I've ever read anything so...so...
Words fail me.
In a lot of ways, Half-Witch reminds me of Catherynne Valente's The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, and if you've ever been subject to my impassioned do you have time to talk about our lady and saviour Catherynne M Valente rhapsody, you'll know that's high praise indeed. There's some stylistic differences - Half-Witch is written in third-person, Girl has an omniscient narrator talking directly to the reader, and Valente's September is far more like Strix than she is Lizbet, Half-Witch's main character - but in some fundamental ways they're very similar. They're both allegedly middle-grade books that are deep and clever and beautiful enough to gut-punch adults too (maybe even gut-punch adults harder than they do younger readers); they both follow young girls discovering they can be (or already are) far more than they thought they could be. They both read like fairytales for the modern age, capturing some elusive, ancient, indescribably mythopoeic quality while telling stories that are like nothing you've ever come across before. They're both pure magic.
But Half-Witch is darker. Not so dark that I wouldn't give it to my little sister - I plan on putting a copy in her hands the first chance I get - but dark enough that I might have hesitated to give it to her a few years ago. And - I think this is important - dark enough to be exactly what I needed right now.
I love Valente and I always will; I will never stop loving her Fairyland series. And it's not that her Fairyland doesn't have its own painful revelations too. But...Half-Witch is the book I needed right now. It's a fairytale for those of us who are tired and bruised inside and can't face, at the moment, the stories that sparkle and glitter. I don't know how to put this without sounding like Fairyland is anything but the rich and complex series it is. Fairyland is not fluffy. But it's too obviously bright and hopeful and full of wonder for me to take when I don't have the strength to believe in it. When I'm tired and hurting and can't figure out how to wash the cynicism from my eyes.
That's where Half-Witch comes in. Because it's not a depressing book. Not at all! But it is a story I could trust, and follow, and believe in, all the way through the darkness and out the other side. It's a story that, honestly, almost tricks you into feeling hope again, believing in the world again. It's a story that acknowledges and doesn't flinch away from how unbelievably awful and terrifying things can be, how low you can fall, how hopeless everything can sometimes seem - and then shows you how to grit your teeth and snarl and fight your way back up, not with violence but with the sheer, teeth-bared determination to be good, and do good, and make things right. It's a story that reminds us that goodness is not bloodless, but neither is it bloodthirsty. It's a story about learning to be brave, and clever, and standing up for yourself and your friends; about being terrified beyond belief and Doing It Anyway.
It's also wickedly clever and subtly sneaky and full of references to or ideas pulled from older stories or myths, reworked in truly incredible ways. The worldbuilding is freaking amazing. It made me laugh far more than once; it made me gleeful; it had me glued to the pages and literally breathless multiple times. It's gross and beautiful and soft and sharp, part nightmare and part dream and all unputdown-able. It's the perfect, perfect, perfect fairytale-esque story the world needs at right this moment.
So I don't know how or where you found it, what path led you to this book (and this review). But it did not lead you wrong....more
Sneaky, awesome, queer, and gorgeous. Some fantastic twists (WOW I DID NOT SEE THAT BIG ONE COMING) and plenty of subtle Easter eggs for those who've Sneaky, awesome, queer, and gorgeous. Some fantastic twists (WOW I DID NOT SEE THAT BIG ONE COMING) and plenty of subtle Easter eggs for those who've already read the main trilogy. By far one of the best prequel-written-after-the-main-series I've ever read, and a total delight. Very, very happy to return to the Creature Court world, and this absolutely lived up to the impossible standards set by the rest of the series. It's officially 3:30 in the morning as I type this and I'm not even a little bit sorry!...more
This was utterly wonderful. Will write a proper review when it's not so close to midnight!
Actual Review
I can see why Healey and Fleming chose to self-This was utterly wonderful. Will write a proper review when it's not so close to midnight!
Actual Review
I can see why Healey and Fleming chose to self-publish The Empress of Timbra - or rather, I can see why a traditional publisher might have hesitated to pick it up, because EoT defies convention and refuses to fit neatly into any box. The ages of the two PoV characters - fourteen and eleven, respectively - might cause some would-be-readers to dub it a children's book, or a Young Adult one. And they wouldn't be entirely wrong - I would happily hand this to my thirteen-year-old sister, or my eleven-year-old one. But it's one of those very special books that can appeal to anyone of any age - my twenty-five-year-old self couldn't put it down and practically inhaled this tome of a novel, and instantly went to ask for more when I was finished with it.
Other reviewers have covered the skeleton of the plot, so I don't feel the need to go over it here, but what made the biggest impression on me was the niceness of this book. And before you wince, let me explain: that's not an insult, and I don't mean to say that it's bland or that nothing exciting/bad happens. There's plenty of adventure and action, and some beautifully intricate plotlines all woven together, with red herrings and unexpected revelations, twists and secrets galore. But when my best friend asked for a book that felt 'nice', this was what I handed her, and she loved it too.
Because there's something about EoT - something that brings to mind In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan (another favourite of mine); something about the way it's written that leaves you warm and glowing even when you're holding your breath or biting your nails. I picked this up at a time when my life was extremely hectic and I was unable to focus on any book at all, my brain too restless and every story too heavy for me too handle - and EoT was exactly what I needed. It's not simplistic in the least - anything but - but something about the writing style makes it easy to read even as the story is just the right amount of complicated. It's addictive, and genuinely un-put-down-able, but it also felt like taking a break from my life in a way I clearly can't put into words. To call it escapism makes it sound light and fun, and it is great fun - but it's not a fluff-read; there's rights of succession and culture clashes and issues of privilege and stereotyping, the attempted usurpation of the throne and gender politics that are all the more interesting for being focused on magic. One of our main characters, Elaku, is clearly autistic (which, as someone recently diagnosed with Asperger's, is something I really appreciate seeing); our other main character, Taver, has to reconcile the revelation of who his biological father is with the love he still has for the man who raised him. There's truly fantastic worldbuilding (all the better for being worked into the narrative flawlessly, without ever need for the dreaded info-dump), a fascinating magic system, pirates who are only too happy to marry two people of the same gender together, and politics both on a small-scale, personal level and on the much larger stage of potential civil war. And the religion! I can't wait for the next book in this series for so many reasons, but I'm dying to see more of the religion and the ways the gods interact with humans.
And also to find out more about this 'cataclysm' in the past that dictates the kind of magic women are allowed to do...
Look, this is an absolutely flawless read, okay, and the only thing you should be asking is where you can buy it - and when the next instalment is coming!...more
I really thought that urban fantasy, as a sub-genre, was dead to me. And maybe it is, because The Last Sun isn't exactly your run-of-the-mill urbaWow.
I really thought that urban fantasy, as a sub-genre, was dead to me. And maybe it is, because The Last Sun isn't exactly your run-of-the-mill urban fantasy. Sure, it's set (mostly) in an urban environment. It's even set in our world, more or less. It's fast-paced and packed full of action, both things I associate with urban fantasy; it's written in a deft, quick style that makes it easy to read and hard to put down, that particular style that often graces the bestseller lists.
It's just that Last Sun takes everything that bores me about urban fantasy and blows it into the water.
Because yes, it's fast-paced and full of action. But it's also decadent and weird and complicated, with queerness everywhere and some of my favourite-ever worldbuilding. I utterly adored reading about New Atlantis and the Atlanteans' magic, their culture and their courts, and everything Edwards tells us about those things is woven very naturally into the story, conveyed through Rune's signature voice (although I dearly want to learn more, one of many reasons I'm already pining for book two). Rune himself is the kind of male protagonist I'm not used to seeing; he's not the strongest piece on the board (or should that be card in the deck?), and if he's an Alpha Male, it's only in the truest sense of the term - he's fiercely protective not only of his loved ones but also the innocent bystanders, and sees his privilege as a responsibility and a duty, not a prize. That's not too unusual in your typical hero, but what is is Rune's ability to yield and give way when someone else is stronger or knows better than he does; you'll find no macho posturing bullsh*t here (at least not from him). He knows his strengths and defers to others when he's not the best one to make decisions, and this is never portrayed as a weakness but a sign of common-sense intelligence. I can't tell you how refreshing it was to read about a man who feels no need to throw his weight around; the deconstruction of toxic masculinity as it usually manifests in fantasy heroes was just fantastic. In a similar vein, Rune's also a trauma survivor in a society that is not only unsympathetic to victims, but actively antipathic to them, and I don't know whether Edwards intended for that to serve as subtle social commentary on how our culture treats male victims, but I appreciated the message there either way.
As a Tarot enthusiast I actually found the set-up of the Arcana - the Atlantean Courts, each one named after one of the Major Arcana of the tarot - surprisingly fascinating; I've seen this trope used before, but never so well, and I'm excited to see more of the courts in future books. I honestly couldn't say whether I'm more in love with the worldbuilding - which I'm a complete addict for - or the characters and their relationships; Rune and Brand, with their Companion bond, were an amazing core of the story, and I was really happy to see the most important relationship in a book be platonic instead of romantic (although I will freely admit I ship it). If someone had described Brand to me before reading, I would have expected him to bore me - he's certainly extremely macho, but again, Edwards subverted my expectations. Brand isn't macho for the sake of it; instead, he's driven by a fierce protectiveness that is a wonder to read. His attitude being motivated by love instead of pride gives it a completely different flavour to the 'shoot first, ask questions later' vibe of your average action-movie hero - and he's also brilliantly smart, far from thuggish. Again, I want to know a lot more about the Companion bond, but only because I'm grabby for details no one else cares about, not because the book left me confused about how the bond worked or just how much it means, and matters, to those bonded.
The pacing, while quick, doesn't feel rushed the way most urban fantasies tend to; it's absolutely spot-on, and despite the fact that so much is going on, Last Sun manages not to drop any of the balls in the air. Every twist and turn is perfect; every sub-plot given exactly as much attention as it needs. It all feels balanced, even while it's simultaneously deliciously intricate.
If this is just his debut, KD Edwards is absolutely one to watch. Last Sun is without a doubt one of my favourite books of the year - maybe ever! - and I cannot wait to get my hands on the next book of the series!...more
Hysterically funny, as is everything Kingfisher writes, either under this name or as Ursula Vernon - but also deep and emotional and clever and wry, wHysterically funny, as is everything Kingfisher writes, either under this name or as Ursula Vernon - but also deep and emotional and clever and wry, with twisty plots and characters that practically walk off the page.
As is true of everything Kingfisher writes, under any pen-name.
In short, I approve utterly, loved every minute of the whole duet, and even if Kingfisher/Vernon wasn't on my auto-buy author list, I would be keeping an eager eye out for any more stories set in this verse!
Or just, you know. Anything she writes ever....more
Sometimes there are books that are hyped for months, that you hear about the moment the publishing contract is signed and anticipate for years before Sometimes there are books that are hyped for months, that you hear about the moment the publishing contract is signed and anticipate for years before they're finally in your hands. And more often than not, in my experience, those books tend to be a let-down. (In fairness, it's hard not to be. Nothing can live up to that much hype.)
And sometimes there are quiet books, that seem to enter the world without a ripple, that you stumble upon by complete accident, that open up into jewels as you turn the pages.
Thornfruit is one of these latter books: I didn't hear about it before it was published, I wasn't anxiously waiting for its release - I didn't even have it recommended to me by a friend or one of the few book blogs I actually trust. I just happened upon it, with its beautifully elegant cover and its attention-grabbing blurb - and it was queer, too? Clearly something I had to check out.
And I'm so glad I did, because it's wonderful.
I don't want to spoil too much, so I won't talk about the plot. But Davin creates amazing characters - with an authentically diverse cast, which I was so grateful for (facial blindness! Ace rep! Non-white characters! And Alizhan reads as someone with autism or Asperger's to me, you can't convince me she's not on the spectrum, nope) - complicated, realistic, strong, clever, driven by very different and very human motivations. There were awkward moments! Do you have any idea how rare it is to see an awkward moment in fiction? It's as though writers forget that real people say or do the wrong thing sometimes, that conversations don't always flow as if scripted - but Davin absolutely doesn't forget. Not that these characters are constantly mis-stepping or anything like that - but they feel real enough to walk off the page.
And the world-building! It's intricate and interesting and so cool, and Davin never needs to info-dump the reader, just weaving in details of geography and culture so deftly you hardly realise you're absorbing them, until suddenly it feels as though not only could Alizhan and Ev walk off the page, but that you could walk in, too, if you wanted.
Look, what can I tell you? This is an absolute gem of a book, a hidden treasure I'm so glad I found, and I'm writing this because DAMN IT MORE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THIS BOOK, but I'm in a rush because I have to go grab the rest of the trilogy RIGHT NOW. Davin works magic with words, and if you have any interest at all in fantastic world-building and morally grey characters and fascinating magic, if you want your girls fab and bold and brilliant, if you want a story with a queer romance that isn't about queerness but is instead about adventure, and truths, and doing the right thing no matter how much it hurts - then go buy this book already.
Seriously, what are you still doing here? Go!...more
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