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Books read, late March

Katherine Addison, The Angel of the Crows. Discussed elsewhere.

Lawrence Block, The Burglar in Short Order. A little bit ago I read the Collected Janet Kagan and found some of the pieces in it to be really pointless trifles, and someone (Beth I think?) said that they were glad that everything had been included so that they could be sure that there was nothing else lurking out there that was worthwhile. Well, this is another volume where you can be absolutely sure that you have all the Bernie Rhodenbarr mystery short works, all of them, no matter how trifling. If you don’t know whether you like the Bernie Rhodenbarr stories, this is definitely, truly not where to find out; if you’re lukewarm, steer clear. This is only for people who want to be absolutely sure they have not missed any Bernie Rhodenbarr fiction of any length. (I turn out not to be in that set after all. Ah well.)

Chaz Brenchley, Mary Ellen–Craterean! Chapters 1-2. Kindle. This is the beginning of a bouncy fun new Crater School serial. I have in my Kindle the beginning of something in the same world with a different tone, so the contrast should be interesting.

Stephanie Burgis, Good Neighbors. Kindle. This is the first in a short fiction series: light, fun, mad scientist stories with I think a romance coming if the main characters can dodge the torch-wielding mob for long enough….

E. L. Chen, The Good Brother. This is a ghost story about Hungry Ghost Month and a young Chinese-Canadian bookstore clerk whose brother died. It is also about depression and suicide. I found the characterization really well done, but I was concerned with how the mental health issues were handled in this fantasy context. Specifically…I have serious issues with books where the entire fantasy content can be read as a metaphor for mental health issues, and the more so when that seems to carry the possibility for multiplying rather than assisting with real mental health issues. I’d recommend this one only with extreme caution.

Hannah Abigail Clarke, The Scapegracers. Discussed elsewhere.

Eleanor Shipley Ducket, Carolingian Portraits: A Study in the Ninth Century. This was a treasure I was startled to find, a chatty mid-century volume about kings and monks and scholars. I always want more about the ninth century–really, always–so I was delighted to find the prose lucid and readable, because I would totally have been willing to put up with a slog for what it says on the tin. Gender issues are almost completely absent, but I’ll take what I can get of the ninth century sometimes.

Sophie Goldstein and Jenn Jordan, An Embarrassment of Witches. I am not the target audience for this comic–it’s very new-adult, very focused on finding your path in life through relationship confusion and weird magic–but I enjoyed it anyway.

Julian Jarboe, Everyone On the Moon Is Essential Personnel. This is such a prickly gem. The title story in particular grabbed and held me, but the shining anger and love in the other stories, ranging all over the genre world, was worth the price of admission.

Jenny Jochens, Women in Old Norse Society. Very much what it says on the tin. Some extremely useful stuff in here, and some gaps that I would expound on for hours, but in general recommended if you’re interested in this topic.

S. A. Jones, The Fortress. Discussed elsewhere.

Kapka Kassabova, Border: A Journey to the Edge of Europe. This is about Thrace, more or less; it’s about Bulgaria-Greece-Turkey, particularly Bulgaria but the borderland of all three of them, and how people live along that border. It is full of anecdote. It won’t be a particular favorite to reread, but it held my attention well enough.

Jane Kenyon, Collected Poems. I got interested in Kenyon’s work because of the poems her husband wrote grieving for her–I had no particular interest in reading more of his work, but the person he was mourning sounded worth mourning. And indeed this is so. Her poems are keenly observed, specific, often very daily/familial or very nature-focused, and I liked watching them unfold.

William Bryant Logan, Sprout Lands: Tending the Endless Gift of Trees. I need to remember just not to read Logan’s books any more. He’s one of those people you read and find that he’s untrustworthy in the small details you already know, and then how can you trust him in the ones you don’t know? This book is about coppicing, about which he is an extreme evangelist. Along the way he makes such unacknowledged and unforced errors as attributing a slogan from disability rights activism to the Crips street gang. Not recommended in the least.

Lydia Millet, The Bodies of the Ancients. The third in her middle grade fantasy series. This follows the pattern of Madeleine L’Engle’s Time Quartet (…I know, don’t @ me) less closely than the previous two. There is no jump forward in the characters’ lives, and the plot is very differently balanced as to which characters get to be active–so in that sense I feel like Millet is coming more into her own as a children’s author. For me it didn’t quite work–it leaned into a trope that I find annoying at best–but it was a near miss, and I’m sorry she doesn’t seem to be doing a lot more with different children’s books using her own patterns.

Premee Mohamed, Beneath the Rising. This is 100% not my usual sort of thing, being cosmic horror. Premee is a friend, though, and she’s done cosmic horror really, really well–and the central relationship in this book is just impeccably done. It’s entirely a relationship-focused piece of fiction, and that relationship is funny and sweet and mean and loving and horrible and human at every turn. If you’re up for horrible creatures from outside our universe trying to remake it and us to their liking–if you’re even a little bit up for that–this is such a good one of those.

Suzanne Palmer, Driving the Deep. Discussed elsewhere.

Caroline Stevermer, The Glass Magician. Discussed elsewhere.

Breanna Teintze, Lady of Shadows. Discussed elsewhere.

Emily Tesh, Drowned Country. Discussed elsewhere.

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Drowned Country, by Emily Tesh

Review copy provided by the author, who is a friend of mine after these years of sharing our awesome agent.

This is the direct sequel to Silver in the Wood, and I strongly recommend reading that before this one, because Henry Silver and Tobias Finch and all the complications of their relationship with each other and with uncanny creatures and the land start there.

The course of true love, we know, never did run smooth…especially when one of you is the Wild Man of Greenhollow. Henry and Tobias are, at the moment, more intrigued with monster hunting and saving a lost girl than they are with each other, or so they’d like to pretend. But the lost Maud Lindhurst is not what either of them expected–and neither is the shabby seaside town where they have to go to find her. Its connections with Fairyland are not any nicer than you’d expect from the previous volume’s encounters with Faerie, and Henry and Tobias have to marshal their resources together–together, dammit–to get themselves and Maud back to the woods safely.

The beach is a very stressful place. Take a friend. And definitely take this non-traditional beach read–or read it at home under a good blanket. Delightful.

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Present Writers: Rosemary Kirstein

This is the latest in a recurring series! For more about the series, please read the original post on Marta Randall, or subsequent posts on Dorothy Heydt, Barbara Hambly, Jane Yolen, Suzy McKee Charnas, Sherwood Smith, Nisi Shawl, Pamela Dean,Gwyneth Jones , Caroline Stevermer, Patricia C. Wrede,Lois McMaster Bujold, Nancy Kress,Diane Duane, Candas Jane Dorsey, Greer Gilman,Robin McKinley,Laurie Marks, Ellen Kushner, and Delia Sherman.

The Steerswoman series. There are four out already, apparently Rosemary is at work on not one but two more (oh that is so hopeful), but the four that already exist make me so happy.

The thing about the Steerswoman books is that they are about people who are trying to figure out their world. They’re about people who value knowledge. And they’re about people who have actually followed through on what that means in practical terms and come to a lot of ideas about kindness and equality that serve advancing knowledge really well, that unfortunately a lot of people in our world don’t think ahead enough to get to. But one of the great things about books that are thoughtful about that kind of thing is that they encourage their readers to be more thoughtful too.

They are beautifully exploratory, these books. The protagonists are allowed to make extremely human mistakes in love and deduction and everything else that is important in life. And yet they keep on. In the face of sometimes staggering odds, they keep on. I only meant to reread the first two for this project, but now that I have, I just want to keep going–because they’re not just philosophically great, they’re also delightful page-turners, well-characterized and tightly plotted. I am over the moon to find that we have two more coming. I simply cannot wait for more of Kirstein’s work, and if you haven’t had the joy, run don’t walk to download the ebooks or order paper copies delivered from your nearest friendly struggling retailer.

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Short stories of early 2020

As always, please feel free to chime in with what you’ve enjoyed in the comments. I haven’t gotten to even close to everything, so omissions should not be taken as pointed but as opportunities.

Stephanie Burgis, Burning Bright (Daily SF)

Rebecca Campbell, Thank You For Your Patience (Reckoning)

Rae Carson, Badass Moms in the Zombie Apocalypse (Uncanny)

L Chan, Field Reports from the Department of Monster Resettlement (PodCastle)

Aidan Doyle, The Tail of Genji (Robot Dinosaur Fiction)

Catherine George, Calling on Behalf of the Dark Lord (Translunar Travelers Lounge)

Essa Hansen, Save, Salve, Shelter (F&SF)

Innocent Chizaram Ilo, Rat and Finch Are Friends (Strange Horizons)

Alex Irvine, Chisel and Chime (F&SF)

Jennifer Mace, Upon What Soil They Fed (Syntax and Salt)

Tony Pi, These Wondrous Sweets (Beneath Ceaseless Skies)

Aimee Picchi, Advanced Word Problems in Portal Math (Daily SF)

C.L. Polk, St. Valentine, St. Abigail, St. Brigid (Tor.com)

Waverly SM, The Last Good Time to Be Alive (Reckoning)

John Wiswell, Tucking in the Nuclear Egg (Nature Futures)

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The Angel of the Crows, by Katherine Addison

Review copy provided by the publisher. Also the author is a personal friend.

This is an object lesson in the value of filing off serial numbers. Really, I mean that wholeheartedly and so very enthusiastically. Because this both is and is not a Sherlock Holmes story. It is clearly, plainly, not trying to hide it, inspired by Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories. And yet it is not a Sherlock Holmes story, it is clearly and firmly not, and the distance between Crow and Holmes, between Watson and Doyle, is enough to pour worlds into. It is not a technicality, it is an opening that lets in an entirely different kind of story.

This story would not be possible if I was comparing, at every turn, to my previously held view of Watson, saying, wait, what? Watson’s secrets are what? How does that square with what I previously know of Watson? Which things are alternate and which am I to keep? I am not to keep things, I am to trust what is built, not about Watson about this new character Dr. J. H. Doyle, whose experience in Afghanistan is not the same, because Doyle has been wounded by one of the Fallen, in a world where angels, vampires, werewolves, and hellhounds are part of the daily landscape.

And they are woven deeply into the fabric of this story. Addison knows the Jack the Ripper facts in our world incredibly well, so she knows how to use them deftly in a story that’s about so many more things. The fantasy elements go deeply into everything here, with thought and care, and the characters are layered and wonderful. I’m just so glad of this book.

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Lady of Shadows, by Breanna Teintze

Review copy provided by the author, who is a personal friend and shares an agent with me.

Lady of Shadows catches up with Gray and Brix not long after the events of Breanna’s first book, Lord of Secrets. They have settled into a peaceful life, everything is fine, and this book is basically them having fancy iced cakes with friends while they contemplate which traveling musicians should play for them.

Wait, no. It’s not. Actually it’s not at all. Because magical plague and also Brix’s relatives.

(I should note here that the magical plague is not at all like the real plague we are dealing with right now, and I don’t think it will be the least bit triggering. It is very magical and very, very different. There’s no way around the fact that there is a plague in this book, but it is not stressful, honestly.)

I also wanted to get Alan Rickman in this book to do the bit from Galaxy Quest where he yells at Tim Allen’s character for always managing to get his shirt off. Because Gray? Is always. Managing to get his shirt off. And sometimes the rest of his clothes with it. So many magical tattoo moments! So much naked magician!

The thing about Breanna’s books is that they have heart, they have plot, but they also have just a ridiculous amount of fun packed in. This came at just the right time for me, but I suspect that any time would have been the right time, and I suspect it will be for you too.

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The Glass Magician, by Caroline Stevermer

Review copy provided by the author, who is a personal friend.

I was so excited to get this from Caroline, because I’d been hearing bits and pieces of it as it was in progress but didn’t read the manuscript–perfect amounts of information to be optimally excited. And I was not disappointed.

Thalia Cutler is a stage magician, struggling to get by on skill and wit in an alternate twentieth century where the wealthiest families have not only the power of their money but also magical shapechanging powers. As an orphan, she’s worked with her guardian dad’s friend, Nutall, doing the only kinds of magic she knows: sleights of hand, cunning tricks. Then one night a jammed mechanism threatens her life and forces her into a kind of magic she didn’t know she could do.

And then there are the monsters after her.

The rich magicians have resources. The rich magicians have safety. The rich magicians have training. Thalia has what she’s always had, except now angry people trying to figure out what’s going on with her, and also monsters. So that’s fun.

No, really, it’s a lot of fun. For the reader. Not for Thalia so much.

I raced through this book with barely a glance at the outside world. I can’t wait for more.

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Restarting the light

I think I am not the only one who feels a wave of relief in these pandemic times every morning that I wake up without a fever, without a cough, without anything to signify that I am getting sick. I read recently that loss of sense of smell is one of the early signs, and so I had two reasons to be happy that I woke up and smelled saffron and yeast from the next story down.

Last night I stirred up the lussekatter to rise while I was sleeping.

I’ve never made lussekatter in spring before, never made them when the thaw was so thoroughly thawed that the snow pile in the circle was half-dirt. I’ve made them for something other than Santa Lucia Day before, specifically for Tim’s birthday, but he was out of the country for his birthday this year and hadn’t had anything I’d baked for him. When I asked if he wanted pumpkin bread as a social distancing treat (I still might do that next week…or later this week depending on how fast we eat the lussekatter…), he paused and said, “Actually….”

So here we are, kneading the dough, singing some different songs, trying to bring back a different kind of light. It’s not Lucia Day, friends, but sometimes we need another candle anyway. Sometimes we need to put our backs into a little more care for each other and a little more hope for goodness in the world. Support the health care workers and the food workers and infrastructure workers who are keeping us all as safe as they can manage, be kind to each other, and bring back whatever light you can in whatever way you know how. It’s not Santa Lucia Day, but we’ll do the work apart-together anyway.

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Driving the Deep, by Suzanne Palmer

Review copy provided by the publisher, and also the author is an online friend.

This is the sequel to last year’s Finder, with the same protagonist: Fergus Ferguson, interplanetary repo man. Fergus has been…changed…by his adventures in the previous volume, giving him some additional, uh…problem-solving options that I don’t want to spoil for you here, and he takes full advantage of them here.

Because he really, really needs to.

Fergus’s strength is his friends, but they’re also his weakness. Particularly when nefarious parties have done their best to kill them all. But where his friends are concerned, Fergus isn’t going down without a fight. Even if that means going way, way down…

Under the frozen waters of Enceladus.

Yeah, the ice moon of Saturn is host to a lot of angry people and their angry secrets, and that’s where Fergus has to do if he wants to save his friends, adopt a cat, and pick apart an additional mystery he didn’t even know he was in on. Spacefaring adventure that crackles with electricity. If you liked Finder, definitely pick up Driving the Deep.

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The Scapegracers, by Hannah Abigail Clarke

There is a beautiful passage toward the beginning of The Scapegracers where the character talks about the ways and reasons in which people direct anger and frustration toward girls and young women, why and how they get underestimated. Hannah Abigail Clarke doesn’t make those mistakes.

This is a contemporary fantasy about teenage witches and their friendship, about trying to figure out who you are and what the hell you’re doing in a world with a lot more to it than you expected. So: the teen experience. With cool new friends who sometimes scare you, when you’re scaring yourself, and also horrible enemies, and also a crush, and what even is this fancy restaurant. So: the teen. experience. In so very very many ways.

Sideways and her friends are so well drawn, so very skillfully and respectfully done, and by respectfully I don’t mean that Clarke mistakes them for superheroes or even adults, but that they are allowed to be themselves. They are allowed to be grumpy, bristly, snarky, loving, guilty, full of rage; they are allowed to like eyeliner and worry that they’re screwing up various things; they rush in where wiser heads might advise caution and try things that just might work (but also might not). They are so human and so great, and I’m delighted that this is only their first book.