This story comes together so patiently and beautifully that you don’t mind that Towles obviously puppeted all of his characters into their places. The narrative switches between the leads as their storylines intersect, diverge, and braid together again; they observe one another, make piercingly astute observations and conclusions about one another, and then each proceeds to do exactly as he or she pleases. Serious, stoic Emmett, recently released from a boys’ work camp, is determined to do his best by his little brother Billy. Billy, who worships Emmett, is adorably innocent as well as stunningly perceptive; he thinks they ought to retrace their absent mother’s journey down the Lincoln Highway. Their road trip is complicated by the presence of two of Emmett’s former buddies from the work camp, Duchess and Woolly, who have their own ideas of where Emmett should be driving. What ensues is a roundabout journey by car, on foot, and by train that is shaped by accident as well as by intention. The book has weaknesses – coincidences are too pat, and the characters unrealistic in their quirks (even solid Emmett and practical Sally are somehow TOO solid and practical), but the writing is so beautiful that you can’t help but enjoy the ride.
Month: April 2023
The Last Sun, by K.D. Edwards
I thought from the title this might be some sort of dystopian SF ecological planetary disaster, but instead it’s a trippy urban fantasy in which each Arcana of the Tarot is personified as a supernaturally powerful mobster. The Arcana reside in the gritty, violent city of New Atlantis, existing in an unsteady power balance, each answerable only to the others. Rune Saint John, last surviving scion of the fallen Sun court, fights for survival and sanity in a world determined to make it difficult for him, picking up friends and enemies along the way. I loved the portrayal of the interpersonal relationships in this book, as well as the characterizations of the powerful Arcana. Good wrap-up at the end with plenty of threads left hanging for the sequel.
Lost in the Moment and Found, by Seanan McGuire
By now I’d thought I had the hang of McGuire’s Wayward Children series: child escapes untenable home situation via magic door, steps into an environment uniquely suited to test their mettle and build vital aspects of their character, and returns (or not) as their situation warrants. In this one, heroine Antsy escapes a truly scary scenario that could well have led to abuse (sketched with terrible, aching realism by McGuire), but finds herself in a different type of world: an in-between place of endless variety, which she only slowly begins to realize comes at a very dear cost.
Paladin’s Grace, by T. Kingfisher
First of the Saint of Steel series, which I’m characterizing as “cutesy fantasy romances with a background of macabre murders.” The Saint of Steel (a god, even though he’s called a saint) abruptly dies, which has the unfortunate effect of sending his beserker paladins into sudden mental breakdown. Years later, Stephen and a few of his surviving fellow paladins have found refuge in the Temple of the Rat, acting as bodyguards for the order of do-gooder lawyers, doctors, and other public servants. He has a meet-cute with Grace, a perfumer who finds herself embroiled in a scheme of political intrigue. Grace’s awkwardness and Stephen’s determined morality, along with the practicality of the people of the Rat, make this a very enjoyable book to read.
How to Sell a Haunted House, by Grady Hendrix
This is the second Hendrix book that I read that came highly recommended, the second time I thought I’d enjoy reading it, and the second time I’ve been disappointed. It’s just not for me, sorry guys. I think that completely aside from the body horror / jump scare aspects which are already not my thing, the root of my issues with Hendrix’s books is that he seems actively contemptuous of his characters. The main characters are all flat and unlikeable, and their motivations and emotions seem sketched over them as opposed to growing naturally out of their personalities. In contrast I’d offer Stephen King, who has all the dark and creepy but seems actually to generate characters from a place of strength and humanity, thereby giving readers a reason to actually care what happens to them. It really feels like Hendrix is creating characters he doesn’t like, just so he can point at them and laugh, and the whole thing just feels a bit mean-spirited. (This is also exactly why I don’t enjoy watching Big Bang Theory.) Plot synopsis, so I can reference it later: unlikeable, shallow main character’s parents die, which means she has to cooperate with her equally unlikeable, shallow sibling to rid the house of elements from her parents’ haunted past, so they can finally sell it and reap the benefits of the inheritance, to which each feels more entitled than the other.
A Taste of Gold and Iron, by Alexandra Rowland
This is a super cute prince-and-warrior queer romance fantasy that feels like it was also written by an economics nerd. Prince Kadou, extremely insecure and given to panic attacks, gets into hot water and his sister the queen must exile him from court. Evemer, one of the royal family’s scholar-bodyguards, reluctantly accepts the duty of guarding the flighty prince, and they find themselves investigating a mystery involving political scheming and counterfeit currency. The currency bit is particularly relevant because Kadou, like certain others in the kingdom, has the ability to tell the purity of a metal by touch, a fact integral to guaranteeing the trustworthiness of his country’s currency (and which makes the issue of counterfeits particularly fraught). I liked the romance, but I loved the worldbuilding.
The Burning Sky, by Sherry Thomas
Solid YA fantasy, refreshing gender twists. Heroine Iolanthe ignores her guardian and puts on a showy display of magic, which immediately makes her a target of the dictator-king’s secret police. She is rescued by an exiled prince, who has been preparing for the appearance of a prophesied elemental mage. Undeterred by her gender, he promptly installs her in the spot which he’d prepared for a fellow student in the decidedly nonmagical and male-only Eton, and proceeds to train her in magical skill and combat. Solid series beginning, and I like how the main characters approach each other as equals despite their differences in gender, rank, and magical power.
Ithaca, by Claire North
The story of Penelope, told by Hera, which is an interesting choice. As in classical Greek mythology, Hera is full of rage and indignation but mostly helpless to actually accomplish anything. She skulks around the edges of events, a bitterly perceptive witness to the goings-on in Ithaca in Odysseus’s absence, affecting events as much as she dares while trying not to draw the attention of the more powerful gods and goddesses. The writing in this is pretty excellent, as is the characterization of the various mythological figures, but mostly this story is a frustrating series of examples of the lack of power and agency of women, even goddesses and queens.