Tag: bookses precious

Clara Benson, A Case of Robbery on the Riviera, The Imbroglio at the Villa Pozzi, and The Problem at Two Tithes. Kindle. So I’m still finding these light historical mysteries diverting in the way that I need right now. My only complaint is that there’s no clear indication of the timeline on which the two series interleave, so A Case of Robbery on the Riviera contains spoilers for several more of the Angela Marchmont books than I’ve gotten to. There’s a warning at the front that says you should have read both to get the full enjoyment, but how far in both is not made clear. Ah well. (Also I find Freddy Pilkington-Soames much more annoying from Angela Marchmont’s POV than from his own.)

Brenda J. Child, My Grandfather’s Knocking Sticks: Ojibwe Family Life and Labor on the Reservation. This book includes a lot of things under the category of labor that challenged my cultural preconceptions about what she would be talking about. Interesting personal-ethnographic study.

Agatha Christie, At Bertram’s Hotel. Who is where when and who was meant to be killed and who will take the blame for it, pretty classic Christie.

August Clarke, Metal From Heaven. Labor movement fantasy. Labor movement fantasy! Labor movement fantasy. Yes. Amaze. It has other facets–some people may be interested in the lesbians or the violence or all sorts of things, but you had me at labor movement fantasy, that’s all I needed, thank you and good night.

Eric H. Cline, After 1177 BC: The Survival of Civilizations. This is a follow-up to his book about collapse of civilizations around the Mediterranean around 1177, and it did not do what I wanted, but it did a fine job of what it did. What it did: a survey of who was left in the aftermath of that massive collapse, who ruled what and how much they rallied. What it did not do: talk in any detail about the lives of actual people in this period or very many social trends and traits that might help us understand why some cultures did better than others (and on which axes).

Louise Erdrich, The Mighty Red. The title refers to the Red River, and this is about soil and relationships and feeling trapped and finding choices in a small town in its area. The people are…oh God, I know these people. They’re so real. It’s just so vividly real about the people and the land.

Margaret Frazer, A Play of Lords and The Apostate’s Tale. Kindle. Oh look, more historical mystery series that are diverting in the way that I need right now.

Vigdis Hjorth, Will and Testament. Speaking of vividly real people: this is dysfunctional Nordic family drama, and gosh are the rhythms of it familiar even if the details of it are not my family details. I would be interested to hear from people who didn’t grow up being told stories of family dysfunction by Nordic people, whether it was hard to follow at any point with the names given without relationships and relationships without names and…all this was in my idiom even though it’s in translation, and I don’t know who else’s idiom it’s in. Not a nice book, the dysfunction is horrible and deep, do not read this for a light diversion.

Noah Jodice, Beyond Courts: Community Justice Exchange, Interrupting Criminalization, and Critical Resistance. Kindle. This is another book that did well at what it was doing but was not doing what I wanted. It is a very 101-level primer or possibly sub-101-level about why the criminal justice system is not very just and why alternatives are called for. What I wanted was more detail on the alternatives, a lot more detail. Different book completely, ah well.

Dan Jones, Henry V: The Astonishing Triumph of England’s Greatest Warrior King. Jones is pretty upset about people taking Shakespeare as a reliable source about Henry V’s early character, as there is no historical evidence whatsoever for the Prince-Hal-to-King-Henry transition. But that’s not most of the book, most of the book is just talking about his life and times, and it’s interesting and well-done. Just. Not a lot of Falstaff to be had here.

Anna-Marie McLemore, Flawless Girls. McLemore can write sisters. GOSH YES. This is about two sisters who are trying to use a fancy finishing school to make their way in society, only to find that it is not doing exactly what it promises–INSERT SINISTER MAGIC HERE. Fun times.

Sy Montgomery, Of Time and Turtles: Mending the World, Shell By Shattered Shell, The Hummingbirds’ Gift: Wonder, Beauty, and Renewal on Wings, and What the Chicken Knows: A New Appreciation of the World’s Most Familiar Bird. These were my other random comfort read thing this month, besides the historical murder mysteries: they’re all quite short, and the first two are about rehabbing the animals in question back into the wild. There are occasionally random moments in the structure of these books, but it’s mostly okay, and in any case they’re worth it for the solid accounts of people taking concrete steps to make things better in the natural world. (The chicken one was just interesting despite not being in that same category.)

Jim Morris, The Cancer Factory: Industrial Chemicals, Corporate Deception, and the Hidden Deaths of American Workers. This is a case study of some factories and their misdeeds, with clarity about how they stand for a much, much larger class of factories and companies doing the same thing. It is not a fun time, but also it’s better to know what tricks they’re pulling.

Rebecca Nagle, By the Fire We Carry: The Generations-Long Fight for Justice on Native Land. Very similar category of book to the above but a different topic: this is about the legal fight for jurisdiction and about who prosecutes crimes on Native lands (and which crimes go unprosecuted and why). Harrowing but solid.

H. G. Parry, The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door. An alternate-1920s fantasy, but in the “oh my God WW1 and influenza just happened” way more than the “whee parties” way. (Guess which one I like better, just guess.) Class and magic and friendship and academia, yes please.

Iona Datt Sharma, Blood Sweat Glitter. Discussed elsewhere.

Review copy provided by the author, who is a friend I met through being represented by the same agent.

Back in the day, one of my friends grumpily reviewed a book by saying, “too much boyfriend, not enough roller derby.” They would never have to have that reaction to Blood Sweat Glitter, which is absolutely full of roller derby, and also the romantic connection builds between two women, zero boyfriends involved.

Eleanor is a charge nurse who pours her heart and soul into her roller derby team. The stress of the job comes out in the rink. Her team isn’t one of the big ones–their league is pretty small-time–but she loves the game for itself, and she keeps hoping to build a team that will love it with her. When new girl Robin shows up–and shows off–Eleanor finds her abrasive and annoying. She’s constantly acting silly and ditzy, and why is she even in roller derby? She’s a good skater, though, Eleanor has to admit that….

As the team’s season progresses, Eleanor realizes that Robin is not the airhead she appears–and her candy-pink bubbly presentation is covering over some trauma. Nor is Eleanor entirely free of it herself. If she can get past some of her prickly habits, they might make a pretty good team, on the rink and off. Lovely fun read but–like the character of Robin–not an insubstantial piece of cotton candy after all.

Katherine Addison, The Tomb of Dragons. Discussed elsewhere.

Lisa Baril, The Age of Melt: What Glaciers, Ice Mummies, and Ancient Artifacts Teach Us About Climate, Culture, and Future Without Ice. Gosh so many ice mummies. I think I learned more about the ice mummies than anything else here, but it really was nicely procedural.

Clara Benson, The Incident at Fives Castle and The Riddle at [slur]’s Mile. Kindle. Honestly why did she feel the need to use that slur in the title, there were literally no Roma people in the book. It gave me serious pause over reading it at all. And the unfortunate part is that it was the better book of the two; in terms of the entire rest of the text if I could advise you to skip one it would be Incident because the political conspiracy was not particularly well-drawn. I did not intend to become an expert on political conspiracy mysteries but they keep popping up, and also I don’t dodge in the least, if you have more in mind please do tell me.

Maurice Broaddus, The Breath of Oblivion. Discussed elsewhere.

David Brown, A Hell of a Storm: the Battle for Kansas, the End of Compromise, and the Coming of the Civil War. Did not do what it said on the tin: specifically this was a book about the lead-up to the American Civil War more generally and not really about Bloody Kansas in any more detail than anything else. It’s a fine enough “lead-up to the American Civil War” book but not the best I’ve read. Oh well.

J.L. Carr, A Month in the Country. Very short and very quiet. This is a book about a recently demobbed soldier whose life has generally fallen apart, restoring the art in an old church in a small town. It’s an older book, but it was written as an historical, not contemporary to the 1920s, but I felt that it did a really good job of combining the feel of the books of that era with perspective from later–that is still the perspective of forty years ago now.

Cathy Coats, To Banish Forever: A Secret Society, the Ho-Chunk, and Ethnic Cleansing in Minnesota. A short book but not an emotionally easy one. Apparently there was an entire secret society–very well documented and in locally prominent positions–in the Mankato area in the second half of the 19th century, dedicated to the genocide of the Ho-Chunk people. I lived four years in that area and knew nothing about it, which is a flavor of horrifying in itself. Extremely useful for opening my eyes, but not a light read, of course.

Sarah Beth Durst, The Spellshop. This, by contrast, is a light read, a cozy fantasy with jam and books and talking plant friends and a romance. The obstacles to the protagonist’s happiness were so readily overcome that it felt frictionless, a bit insubstantial, but honestly that was just fine on the day I read it.

Margaret Frazer, A Play of Knaves and The Squire’s Tale. Kindle. One each of the Player Joliffe and Sister Frevisse series, and I really continue to like how organically these characters are different in a similar setting. I am finding these to be quite reasonable comfort reads and will keep doing so until I run out.

William Gibson, Burning Chrome. Reread. Gosh, he can write a sentence, always could. There’s a lot of sexism here, and I haven’t found early cyberpunk particularly compelling over time, but on a sentence level this is some of the best science fiction writing of its time.

Holly Gramazio, The Husbands. Very small-scale science fiction: the protagonist, who starts the book unmarried, comes home to find a life and a husband she doesn’t remember having, and every time he goes up in the attic, he disappears and a different husband/timeline takes his place. This is the sort of story where prose voice is everything for me, and I enjoyed the prose voice here, it was warm and compelling. The different shapes of relationship possible to her, the different ways that would direct her life, and the way that she exercises agency among them, is thought-provoking and fun.

Jack Kelly, The Edge of Anarchy: The Railroad Barons, the Gilded Age, and the Greatest Labor Uprising in America. Very much what it says on the tin, and I fear that the Gilded Age is all too relevant to our time, so I was glad to learn more about it.

Hildur Knútsdóttir, The Night Guest. Very short and creepy. I felt like the strength of this book was how Knútsdóttir wrote about chronic illness and the reactions people have to it. The plot twists were…not very twisty. The ending was unpleasant but unsurprising. But the writing about chronic illness early in the book was absolutely solid stuff.

Naomi Mitchison, To the Chapel Perilous. Not a reread, this is my first exposure to this one, miraculously enough. The journalism spin on the Arthurian tale was charming–the commentary on perspective and legend. Very glad I read this and will want another go at it.

Lauren E. Oakes, In Search of the Canary Tree: The Story of a Scientist, a Cypress, and a Changing World. Oakes puts a lot of herself in this book–possibly too much depending on how much you’re interested in her personal life while doing the research she describes here, but it’s still an interesting account of how this kind of botanical research works.

Simon Parkin, A Game of Birds and Wolves: The Ingenious Young Women Whose Secret Board Game Helped Win World War II. Other suggested titles: Not All Nonfiction Needs a Three-Item List In Its Subtitle: Now Conclusively Proven! Sorry, it’s just been a heck of a pattern lately. Anyway, this is an interesting take on how strategizing itself evolved and who got to be involved in it, in the UK dealing with the U-boat problem.

Dava Sobel, The Elements of Marie Curie: How the Glow of Radium Lit a Path for Science. A warm and charming account of the different young women who followed directly on the path she blazed–the lab assistants and fellow scientists who had opportunities in her lab. Good stuff.

Ashley Spencer, Disney High: The Untold Story of the Rise and Fall of Disney Channel’s Tween Empire. I don’t know much about this part of culture, and I don’t like ignorance, so I picked this up from a library display. I was disappointed in its depth and type of analysis–this was more a straightforward account of what there was than why it succeeded and failed–and I think the reason is that Spencer is a celebrity journalist of a type that has and needs access. She’s less likely to dive into problems with streaming or other networks’ competition in ways that might jeopardize future interviews, and this book is much shallower than I hoped as a result.

Jonathan Strahan, New Adventures in Space Opera. I will be so glad to have this book in another five years. Today, though, I was frustrated that it has this title while being entirely a reprint anthology. Adventures in Space Opera that you’ve already read in the last few years, and you liked some of them is a less-catchy title. It’s a solid volume, it’s just that I didn’t realize that it was reprints.

Nghi Vo, The City in Glass. I am a hard sell on demon perspective–also on angel perspective, when it comes to that–but Vo is engaging with this ages-long (but reasonably short) fantasy of a city.

Sylvia Townsend Warner, Of Cats and Elfins. This short story collection had moments of racism and animal cruelty. There’s a sharpness to the fairy stories here that has its good sides but also its quite negative ones. Not the place to start with her work, I wouldn’t think.

Ovidia Yu, The Angsana Tree Mystery. And speaking of not the place to start, this series does such a satisfying job of unfolding its plots as the history of Singapore progresses that it would be a shame to miss what’s come before. We’re now in the post-WWII repercussion section of this series, and I continue to really enjoy it.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Also the author has been my friend for–oh gosh let’s get my other friend the large-number mathematician out to calculate this one.

Some of my favorite words in book note land are “triumphant conclusion.” I just love when someone sticks a landing. The Tomb of Dragons is listed as the third in a trilogy. There’s room for more with these characters/in this world, but this is also an ending ending, a trilogy ending as well as a book ending.

Thera Celahar came out of his previous run-in with dead forces battered and damaged. His very calling as a Witness for the Dead was shaken. Shaken–but not obliterated. He’s found ways to pursue the peripheries of his calling even without the core available to him. Helping a younger Witness find her way and sorting through a morass of paperwork aren’t the same as hearing the needs of the dead, but they make some positive difference in the world, at least. Until he’s kidnapped and pulled under a mountain. Because yeah, the title? It’s pretty literal. And the haunted dragon bones are only the beginning for Celahar.

In addition to ending both book and series in a highly satisfying way, this volume ties back rather more closely with The Goblin Emperor than its predecessor. If you’ve been wistful for a glimpse of where it all started, this will very much satisfy. I was so glad to have it to read this week. The rest of you have to wait a few months, more, but I promise, it’ll be worth it.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Also I know the author from cons and online and stuff.

This is the second volume in its series, following Sweep of Stars and preceding…something big, given the ending. Luckily for you the first one is still in print, because this book dives right in and never quits, and there’s a lot of momentum left from the first one, that you will miss out on if you don’t read it.

What this is: African diaspora-tinged space opera. We got your clash of cultures in space, we got your people doing unwise things in the name of science, we got your massive cast with different goals but all striving against the vacuum, we got your family relationships splattering their consequences over the whole galaxy, you want it in a space opera, we got it right here. With a substantially Black cast.

Doesn’t that sound nice? doesn’t that sound like the sort of thing you could laugh and flinch and gasp along with right about now? It comes out Tuesday, so if you start now, you can get there before you know it.

Roland Allen, The Notebook: A History of Thinking on Paper. Briskly written and cheerfully done, short chapters examining different aspects of the history of the notebook as an object (plus a little bit about objects we might consider predecessors). Kind of a romp honestly.

Clara Benson, A Case of Duplicity in Dorset and A Case of Suicide in St. James’s. Kindle. The next two in this series, probably fine to start here if you want–1920s historical British setting, mildly feckless journalist hero. I am finding myself in the mood for mysteries lately–the endings are comfortingly settling when I’m nervous about issues national and personal.

Chaz Brenchley, Radhika Rages at the Crater School Chapters 10-13. Kindle. You can tell I was away from home, because I caught up on reading my serial! Boarding school hijinx on Mars, protagonist extremely disgruntled, don’t start here.

Stephanie Burgis, Wooing the Witch Queen. Discussed elsewhere.

Clare Carlisle, The Marriage Question: George Eliot’s Double Life. “Double life” has a preexisting colloquial meaning, and it’s not at all what Carlisle is using it to mean in this title. And…it could. She could very easily have been talking about the pressures and tensions between being Author George Eliot with all of her art and the problems attendant thereto and being George Lewes’s partner with all of those attendant problems. There’s not a lot of that, though. I had a few quibbles with interpretations of the fiction, but mostly she means “double life” as “life with another person,” and it doesn’t go particularly deep on that front. Honestly I was a bit disappointed.

Agatha Christie, The Big Four and The Murder on the Links. Kindle. The very early 20th century had some very weird international conspiracy novels–of course there was Chesterton, and Rose Macaulay had one, and then there’s The Big Four, which is…look, we’re distant enough from it now that I have a hard time even seeing how they thought of it then, whether it was ridiculous along the lines of Goldfinger in the late ’50s (book)/’60s (movie) or whether it was, oh yes, this is a popular entertainment but also this kind of flamboyant and yet super-secret international conspiracy, well, you never know. Anyway The Murder on the Links was a much more standard Christie mystery, same faults and virtues as she generally has.

Penelope Fitzgerald, The Beginning of Spring. There was a misprint in the jacket copy and thus the online bookstore copy about this book. It claimed to be about an English painter in 1913 Russia. In fact it was about an English printer, and his work as a printer is plot-relevant. I had been specifically looking for something about visual artists to read that day, so it took me half the book to realize and get recombobulated, that no, the protag was not going to suddenly start painting things or even thinking about painting them, that’s not the book you’re reading. Its sense of humor and mine weren’t very congruent, I don’t think.

Margaret Frazer, The Hunter’s Tale (Kindle) and The Widow’s Tale. Two more of the Sister Frevisse mysteries. I’ve gotten a little out of order because not all of them are available in ebook formats and of course ebook retailers have every reason not to advertise that if instead they can get you to buy the next one they do have available. Still, for this late in the series she’s still gong strong.

Barbara Hambly, Saving Susy Sweetchild. And this one is only third in its mystery series, and it’s got a Shirley Temple-like child star being kidnapped, in with all the other elements of this Golden Age Hollywood setting. It’s fine? I keep reading them, I’ll read the next one, I definitely wanted to read this one, but also I don’t feel like this is one I’m going to point to if asked to explain what I particularly like about Barbara Hambly’s mysteries.

Mary Robinette Kowal, The Martian Contingency. Discussed elsewhere.

Sharon Kay Penman, Here Be Dragons. Reread. But this is the first reread since 1997, so a lot of the detail had not stuck with me. This is an historical novel, the first in a trilogy, and its focus is King John’s daughter Joanna and her role in Wales as the wife of Llewelyn Fawr, with all the political complications attached. It’s a huge brick of a book, but it moves along briskly, very readable throughout, will probably reread the rest of the series as well now that I’m at it.

Brenda Peynado, Time’s Agent. Pocket universes whose timelines run at different rates, combined with environmentalism and corporate depradations. This was a fast read but a depressing one.

Kenneth Pomeranz, The Great Divergence: China, Europe, and the Making of the Modern World Economy. Pomeranz argues vigorously against all comers about when and how the economies of the two regions in the title diverged, and he’s pretty persuasive about avoiding western exceptionalism and the sense of the inevitable that dogs some otherwise-fine historians. If you’re not interested in imperial economies, this will not be the book for you. He manages to remember that Denmark exists, and the Germanies, and some other examples of Europe that writers of this genre of history often don’t mean when they say Europe.

Carole Satyamurti, The Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling. This is a kind of a weird thing to label a retelling, because it is a very, very straight-up retelling, it is aiming to replicate in poetry what the original did in its own native poetic meters, and that…is mostly a translation? But Carole Satyamurti is using multiple translations to get there and is not working from the original, so it falls into this weird in-between category. In any case it was extremely readable and gripping, and I was struck by the places where it felt absolutely familiar to my own cultural epics and then also the places where it was different.

Sascha Stronach, The Sunforge. A sequel to The Dawnhounds, this is full of ecological disaster, weird biotech, and trans characters who are fiercely themselves. Couldn’t put it down once I picked it up.

E.M. Tran, Daughters of the New Year. The story of three Vietnamese-American daughters and their immigrant mother, and then the generations proceeding back in time. The ending disappointed me–I know that not circling back to the present was a deliberate stylistic choice, but what it meant was that I felt like I had a piece of a novel rather than a whole one, that no one’s story had a satisfying ending.

Anthony Trollope, Orley Farm. Kindle. I don’t recommend this one. On the one hand, it has a bit of casual Antisemitism and quite a lot of both casual and structural sexism. On the other hand, the ending is completely boring in its main thrust and leaves half the characters you’ve been extensively introduced to in the first half of the book hanging or just stops them abruptly. He did better, several times.

Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, Friction: An Ethnography of Global Connection. A study of Indonesian rural mountain communities and their contacts with the outside world, hits the gaps between the outside world and these communities and the developments from that friction pretty hard, undermining the supposed universality of “globalization.” The other thing I’ve read by her is mycological, and she was apparently James C. Scott’s partner until his death.

Patricia C. Wrede, The Raven Ring. Kindle, reread. Another book it had been decades since I reread. This one is the kind of fantasy I read all the time in high school but not, y’know. What’s the phrase. Staggeringly sexist. Right, that. It’s a fun adventure fantasy whose general non-sexist approach has gotten to be far more normal than it was at the time.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Also I know the author a bit from cons and things.

This is the latest Lady Astronaut book, alternate histories of a 20th century international space program developed in a panic when Earth’s atmosphere is catastrophically changed by a meteor strike. The series uses its premise to illuminate challenges of our past and present, and of course future. This is not a good place to start with it, I will say right up front. The characters are well-established with their foibles, strengths, and relationships, and this is not a book that wants to spend a lot of time reminding you who’s who and why you care.

But if you’re someone who *does* care, if you’ve already read the series, Elma York and her husband and colleagues are back for an adventure on the surface of Mars and in Mars orbit. While some of the same themes carry through from previous books, they’ve had more of a chance to ramify, with the characters allowed to make different mistakes at different points in their lives–and with some skills and assumptions picked up from space stations and the Moon not applying to their new Martian home.

Kowal has worked with actual astronauts to try to make this series as lived-in as possible, and it shows. Some details are just–“just”–texture to make the book feel more real, but some turn out to be plot points in ways that amuse and delight–and occasionally horrify.

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

MAGIC NERDS IN LOVE. For some of you this is enough, you’ve just navigated out and clicked pre-order.

For the rest of you: Felix and Saskia are both nominally the rulers of their countries, but politics dealt each one a difficult hand. Felix’s Regent is deeply controlling and abusive, to the point where he quite reasonably fears for his life–he has no control over his lands despite his nominal Archducal title. Meanwhile Saskia–the titular Witch Queen–has taken her throne reluctantly. She’d rather experiment with potions and reagents, but her evil uncle couldn’t be left in control–he was viciously oppressive of all of her people even remotely connected with magic–and she has to deal with the shambles he’s left behind him when he was ousted.

The two of them find each other in stressed and unlikely circumstances, not knowing nearly all they need to know about each other (people who have read this book just started giggling about what an understatement that was for lack of spoiler purposes), and they have to find their way to trust in each other not only for their personal relationship but for the sake of their countries and people.

For me this was an extremely cozy book as well as a fun one, but it got me thinking about how people read coziness differently. Both of the protags are coming out of abusive situations that are clearly though not graphically described, and for some readers, that throughline cannot be cozy–even though the plot is entirely focused on escape from it into building something better. This one has a determinedly nurturing troll housekeeper, an amazing modern invention called fountain pens, and lovingly described meals–but it also has the bite of the world actually having consequences. Cozy is in the eye of the beholder, but this is a good read whether you end up thinking it’s cozy or not.

Clara Benson, The Treasure at Poldarrow Point. Kindle. In the first two volumes of this series, its protagonist had an energetic idiot for a foil. This is no exception, but this time the energetic idiot is literally twelve years old, so she has some excuse for some of her less wise, plot-furthering behaviors. Whew.

Jedediah Berry, The Naming Song. Gorgeous. Not like anything else, a very verbal and yet very grounded fantasy. The ending was the perfect combination of surprising and inevitable, really liked this. I would say “more like this” but only in the most theoretical sense–this is not a book for a dozen sequels, this is a book for “yes, I really love singular books like this.”

Genoveva Dimova, Monstrous Nights. Discussed elsewhere.

Emran Iqbal El-Badawi, Queens and Prophets: How Arabian Noblewomen and Holy Men Shaped Paganism, Christianity, and Islam. Best book I’ve read so far about pre-Islamic history of the Arabian peninsula and adjacent areas, does a really solid job of indicating which groups controlled which regions when, situates Judaism and Christianity in their original geographic context. Really interesting stuff, only wish it was longer. Lots of historical figures I had never heard of or heard very little of, who turned out to be quite worth knowing.

Margaret Frazer, A Play of Dux Moraud, The Bastard’s Tale, and The Clerk’s Tale. Kindle. The second volume of the Player Joliffe series, and Frazer was having a great time with making the medieval plays relevant to the genre mystery; and then two more volumes of the Dame Frevisse series, very much in the “if you liked this here’s more” category. They’re not the most elevated mystery series ever, but they’re solidly doing what they do, and as you can see I am still on board for it.

Frances Hardinge, Island of Whispers. Lavishly illustrated and quite short, melancholy, a fantasy of life and death and the different (mostly non-romantic) ways people love each other.

Jo Harkin, The Pretender. Discussed elsewhere.

Nalo Hopkinson, Blackheart Man. A fantasy that handles its colonialist past a lot more explicitly–and relevantly to the plot–than we’re used to seeing, very Caribbean-inflected, very cool. The protagonist is kind of a jerk a lot of the time, but Hopkinson knows that, and portrayal is not endorsement.

Freya Marske, Swordcrossed. Some of you might want this for the duels, some for the gay sex. Me, I am in it for the wool merchants. MORE WOOL MERCHANTS. MERCHANT CULTURES OF ALL KINDS.

Hope Mirrlees, Lud-in-the-Mist. Reread. For a book club. I feel like the immediately post-Victorian nature of this book is what jumped out at me most this time. The Victorians were just yesterday, and you can tell, and in a fun way. I’ve been part of conversations about how fantasy would have been different if this rather than The Lord of the Rings had been its pattern text, but one of the things that jumped out at me about that this time is that it’s a fantasy where a parent is attempting to save their children. Very very different from the family structures in Tolkien.

Nemonte Nenquimo and Mitch Anderson, We Will Be Jaguars: A Memoir of My People. I’ve read missionary narratives before, and this was very much structured exactly like them but with the opposite conclusion: here are some stories of when I was a small child, here’s what I knew about my world and my people, here’s when I learned from the missionaries about Jesus and the western world……and now, here’s why that was a terrible experience and my life path and activism is very different. The parallelism really struck me given the conclusions.

Megan E. O’Keefe, The Bound Worlds. The last in its trilogy, wherein everyone is generally horrible to everyone else but eventually pulls themselves together and figures their space fungus shit out. Definitely don’t read it if you haven’t been enjoying the first two, it is not an entry point.

Nadi Reed Perez, The Afterlife of Mal Caldera. An absolutely beautiful and sensitively handled book that I will be recommending to very few specific people, because what it is beautifully and sensitively handling includes a lot of material dealing with depression and suicidality. I loved the voice, I loved the whole thing, but–think very carefully whether you want something this intense.

Sarah Pinsker, Haunt Sweet Home. I have long had a theory that there’s a period of “omg, I will put this NEW SOCIAL THING in my SFF story as a novelty! Look how new!” before the genre settles into, “Yep, we sure do have that, anyway here’s an actual story.” Haunt Sweet Home is a marker that we’ve arrived at the maturity stage–or at least Sarah Pinsker has–regarding reality TV shows. They’re a thing that exists, and if you’re going to put one in the story you still need a story, and this has one. It’s not the most beautiful ghost story I read this month because The Afterlife of Mal Caldera exists, but it’s a lot less harrowing than that, and a lot more fun.

B. Pladek, Dry Land. For some reason I thought this was going to be a completely different genre of book, but it is gay WWI environmentalist fantasy. If you like the war poets, sad gay boys, and modern environmentalism, this might easily be your jam. It’s mostly melancholy throughout but with glimmers of hope in the mud.

Ruben Reyes, Jr., There Is a Rio Grande in Heaven. This is the sort of weird short story collection that genre science fiction/fantasy readers don’t always hear about, but you should, because the stories are just as speculative and alien and profoundly cool as anything labeled SFF. If not more so.

Asheesh Kapur Siddique, The Archive of Empire: Knowledge, Consent, and the Making of the Early Modern British World. An interesting take on how British colonizers used recordkeeping and other knowledge management types differently in different colonies because of their varying assumptions and goals, very cool.

Dana Simpson, Unicorn Time Machine. The latest Phoebe and Her Unicorn collection, and it unexpectedly made me cry, because there are some things with Phoebe’s dad in it. To be clear, they are funny sweet things, not sad things…unless you had that kind of nerdy dad and you miss him….

Sam Kyung Yoo, Small Gods of Calamity. Urban fantasy with gods and spirits making a great deal of trouble, fun and will be on my Christmas-buys list for several people.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

A member of my family saw this book sitting on the kitchen table and said, “Ohhh, somebody gonna get eaten.” This is what we call “setting reader expectations appropriately with the cover design.”

Kosara and Asen have had six months since the events of the Foul Days in the book of the same name–six months for things to get back to normal. Things…have not done that. Nor do they look likely to. Kosara is still hearing the Zmey’s voice. Asen is no longer comfortable on the mundane police force. And there are monsters…where there should not be monsters. So: normal? really no.

Giant plague-bearing cockerels, unexpected werewolves, uncertain vampires, Asen’s late wife’s kikimora, the gang’s all here. Kosara’s dozen shadows are unruly at the worst possible times. There’s more trouble than they realized between the human realm and the realm of monsters, and it’s going to take everything they’ve got to set the balance right–and a few things they don’t have yet as well. Vivid and particular, this is a fun successor to the excellent first volume.