Standouts from this month: The Thursday Murder Club, Demon Copperhead, Savage Harvest, Godkiller. Cannot stop thinking of all of them, for extremely different reasons. How lucky I am to have access to so many good books! Thanks for the recommendations, keep them coming, and I do intend to get to them all someday.
The Innocent Sleep, by Seanan McGuire: urban fantasy, 18th in McGuire’s October Daye series, and extremely dependent on your knowing what’s going on already. This is a complete retelling of Sleep No More, except from Tybalt’s perspective, so you get to go through the special hell he experienced as King of Cats in a universe rewritten to make his species extinct, as well as getting even more examples of how Titania really screwed over the people and species she had no use for. It really helps you understand exactly why he’s such a sourpuss (pun completely intended) towards October in the previous book. This has more of the feel of a “deleted scenes” extra to the previous book than a standalone novel. I’m glad I read them back to back; this one would not have stood well on its own.
The State of the Onion, by Julie Hyzy: Cozy mystery / culinary thriller. In the first scene of the book, assistant White House chef Ollie (Olivia) Paras sees a man fleeing from Secret Service agents and manages to take him out with a frying pan. It’s a perfect representative moment for the book: Ollie is in danger, but gathers all her spunk and rescues herself in an unlikely manner. I went back and forth between being annoyed and entertained while reading this; Ollie’s Secret Service boyfriend does a terrible job treating her like an adult and Ollie respondes by acting… even more like a betrayed teenager; meanwhile, Ollie’s main rival for the job of executive chef is such a ridiculous parody that you’re never really worried for her chances. The book was entertaining enough for me to finish it, but I doubt I’ll get to the rest of the series (even though the titles are fantastic). Oh and the recipes in the back … do not seem chef quality. (Volumetric baking measurements instead of weight? Start with 3 cups of flour but you may have to add up to 4 more cups before the batter comes together? Color me skeptical.)
The Thursday Murder Club, by Richard Osman: In a peaceful retirement community in the idyllic English countryside, a quartet of septuagenarians meets weekly to talk over cold cases. Elizabeth was once a secret agent, Joyce a nurse, Ibrahim a psychologist, and Ron a firebrand socialist; between the four of them they have a grand old time looking over grisly folders while enjoying a spot of tea. When a real-life murder happens practically on their doorstep, they are more than ready to offer their assistance to the local constabulary. The unfolding mystery becomes more and more layered, as each investigation uncovers more secrets within the community, and situations arise where the law and the characters’ morals differ. The personalities are beautifully handled and the narration is witty and enjoyable, but for me, the love stories among the elderly characters are the most poignant; sometimes bringing a lump to my throat at certain scenes. I enjoyed the complex mystery, but the emotions will stay with me for a long time.
Making it So, by Patrick Stewart: Things I enjoyed learning about included: Stewart’s British country childhood, which sounds almost Victorian; the occasional nerding out over the technicalities of staging scenes from Shakespeare and Beckett; glimpses into the Hollywood backstage craziness; and his complete ignorance of things like pop music, science fiction, and comic books (until he is exposed to them). I knew he’d been a Shakespearean actor before his turn as Captain Picard, but I had no idea how much he’d struggled to break into the theater scene; as a TNG fan, I also found his account of those years particularly fascinating. I’m glad I waited until the audiobook was available, as of course he does a phenomenal job telling his own story. That deliberate Patrick Stewart pronunciation and phrasing meant that I listened to it at 1.25x speed, though. I’m not made of time.
Our Missing Hearts, by Celeste Ng: So in the days right after Trump was elected, and racists felt emboldened to trumpet their racism out loud: as a member of a visible minority, I felt a heightened awareness and vulnerability in a place that should have felt like my home. This book, I feel, was written out of that same terrible, uprooted, targeted feeling. Main character Bird lives with his father, and has a child’s awareness that the world is awry: his mother has disappeared, his father is on edge, his best friend is furious that she was removed from her parents’ care, and his teachers spout propaganda. Through Bird the reader gains a slow awareness that the America he lives in is one of government-backed racism, particularly against Asians, and that Bird’s absent mother, a Chinese-American poet, is a dissident symbol of the resistance. The novel’s pacing is rather uneven, as Ng seems more interested in painting the world than in giving Bird a story arc; the ending also feels rather hurried and weak, and I have huge issues with Bird’s mother’s life choices. Nevertheless, the writing is strong and the picture is bleak, and for me it captures a certain emotion quite perfectly.
Demon Copperhead, by Barbara Kingsolver: I am still not over this book. It sounds like poverty porn from the cover: a retelling of David Copperfield but with a focus on Appalachia and all its societal problems. A friend described it to me as “like Hillbilly Elegy, but if the author wasn’t an ass,” which honestly is pretty on the nose. Damon, or Demon to his friends and family, loses his mom to drugs and is booted into an uncaring foster system, within which he experiences child hunger, abuse, and neglect; he also forms friendships, occasionally finds mentors, and falls in with friends both good and bad. It’s a long chain of unfortunate experiences but despite everything Demon has heart and hope, and those carry the story surprisingly well.
Lirael, by Garth Nix: Following behind Sabriel, Lirael is another self-sufficient Nix protagonist: she is frequently in over her head and unsure of what she ought to be doing, but possessed of sound instincts and an instinctive practicality. This book centers the future-seeing Clayr, which is a nice change from the necromancer Abhorsens (although of course we spend time with them as well, through the characters of Sabriel’s children). Lirael is the sort of character I most enjoy, the type that does what she feels is right, even if she may not have all the resources, because, well, someone has to. Quite a few things left unresolved into the next book, but a decent ending nonetheless.
The Phoenix Crown, by Janie Chang and Kate Quinn: I’m a big fan of both Quinn and Chang, who both write period history novels packed with strong-willed, self-sufficient women; this is definitely another along those lines. Down-on-her-luck soprano Gemma arrives in San Francisco in 1906, and although she can’t find her artist friend Nellie, she does meet mysterious magnate Thornton, who makes her an offer of patronage she can’t refuse. She also meets Suling, who chafes under the restrictions placed on her life by her uncle and by Chinatown culture; and Alice, a botanist who values plants over people. As the days count down towards the earthquake we know is coming, the women find themselves drawn into mysterious events around Thornton. Both authors are great at painting detailed pictures of historical eras and pre-fire San Francisco is beautifully described; the characters also do an excellent job showing the reader where society places rules around the behavior of women, and how each try to subvert them in her own way. The book is perfectly decent read but the plot does make some pretty sketchy jumps to keep the story moving.
A Fragile Enchantment, by Alison Saft: This book deserved a better reader than me. I was in the mood for action, and this is not it: it’s a slow burn fantasy romance with inter-kingdom politicking and deeply fraught class politics. The characters snark and smolder at one another like Austen stereotypes, while their poorly-explained magical powers betray their true feelings through uncontrolled plant growth or embroidery that brings literal tears to people’s eyes. Loved the imagery; unfortunately, the intrigue, class conflict, and politicking failed to bring any interest to the otherwise predictable plot.
The Ten Percent Thief, by Lavanya Lakshminarayan: When the book started with the titular Ten Percent Thief stealing precious live plants from the exclusive enclaves of the top twenty percent, to plant illegally in the slums of the excluded bottom percentile, I was excited for a cyberpunk Robin Hood story. Sadly, that was the last I saw of the Ten Percent Thief until I was about ten percent from the end of the book. Instead I got a mosaic of many different characters, each struggling towards the top ranks of the wealthy and privileged, their status hanging by a thread in a world where every action and opinion is weighed and judged for suitability. It’s a tense, depressing world, improved only slightly by brief hints of a conspiracy to take it all down, and by the time the Ten Percent Thief finally reappears near the end, it only served to remind me how much better I would have liked the book had it focused on specific, compelling characters instead of telling many unrelated stories. Good worldbuilding, but the depressing dystopia, combined with the near-nonexistent plot, made the book a struggle to plod through.
Savage Harvest: A Tale of Cannibals, Colonialism, and Michael Rockefeller’s Tragic Quest, by Carl Hoffman: In 1961, 23-year-old Michael Rockefeller disappeared in remote Indonesian Papua. Hoffman begins the book with a riveting account of Rockefeller’s murder by headhunters, then rewinds back to follow Rockefeller’s budding interest in indigenous artwork and his building determination to collect it, himself, from the most remote places. Hoffman brings us along as he sketches out the history of the area, the tribes, and how their interaction with Dutch colonists may have led to a spiritual imperative of reciprocal violence that eventually resulted Rockefeller’s death. Hoffman backs up his claims with research into fascinating accounts by Dutch missionaries embedded with the local tribes. Hoffman’s first efforts to get the story directly from the Asmat people turn up nothing; realizing that he is too alien to them to be trusted, he learns the language, lives among them at their pace, and talks with them about everything but Michael Rockefeller until he learns enough about their culture and beliefs that their actions begin to make sense to him. I was a bit squicked initially by how Hoffman’s pursuit of savage exoticism seemed to mirror Rockefeller’s, but unlike his subject, Hoffman is very aware of the problems that colonialism has caused for the Asmat and other tribes of the region. It’s a very immersive book, and Hoffman’s experience among the Papuans gave me a new perspective on the news coming out of PNG.
Godkiller, by Hannah Kaner: Oh man this was stunning, from the worldbuilding to the character interaction to the pacing. Years after the great war which ended in the King’s decision to kill off all the gods, some people still persist in praying to gods and resurrecting them. The cast is incredible: godkiller Kissen stalks around the countryside as a sort of grim, homicidal mercenary; baker Elogast turns out to be a retired knight whose devotion to the King has gotten him in a bad spot; noble-born Inara is fleeing danger and her illegal bond with Skedi, the god of white lies. Each character’s backstory unfolds as the plot thickens and tension and danger mount, and little details come back to play major roles near the end of the novel. The ending is not quite a cliffhanger, but when the sequel comes off my hold list, I’m ditching everything else to read it immediately.
Abhorsen, by Garth Nix: Very much a sequel to Lirael; does not stand alone. Even though events in this book are much more climactic than in the one before, I actually like it less; the characters are already fully-formed and don’t do much changing, and Nix is mostly concerned with navigating the pieces into place so that the final showdown can take place. I still enjoyed it though, because the characters were already awesome.
What you are looking for is in the library, by Michiko Aoyama, translated by Alison Watts: Pure comfort read. Interconnected short stories of Tokyo residents dissatisfied with their lives. Each finds their way to the library, where librarian Sayuri Komachi looks them over, makes a few terse pronouncements, and hands them not only the books they were asking for, but a seemingly unrelated book that helps guide them towards a new fulfilment or purpose. The characters are all very different from one another but are all warmly and sympathetically depicted, and although you know each of them will have a happy ending, they all get there in their own way. Predictable but still heartwarming.
A Spark of White Fire, by Sangu Mandanna: Space opera, inspired by the Mahabharata. Although the writing was perfectly good and I’m a fan of the genre, I think Mandanna’s efforts to follow the general lines of her source material made the choices of her characters seem more bound by the necessities of plot than by their own established personalities. The characters seemed to do things for no reason, or for poor reasons, which then prompted other characters to do things against their natures, all plummeting towards inevitable interstellar conflict. It felt a bit like they were puppets resisting their strings. Although I enjoyed reading it, I don’t think I’ll bother with the rest of the series.
Lost in a Good Book, by Jasper Fforde: Second in the Thursday Next series and with plenty of the literary in-jokes and really awful puns that characterized the first book. Thursday only gets to enjoy a relatively brief span of happy marriage with Landon before he is cruelly rewritten out of history by Goliath, the evil corporation; it turns out Goliath wants to hold Landon hostage to force Thursday to cooperate with them. Thursday, beset by job difficulties and threatened by a mysterious assassin, dives further into books to find allies and build new skills. I particularly enjoyed the chapter where she goes to Kafka’s court and dodges and weaves her way to victory (or at least postponement) with the help of her lawyer, who primarily communicates with her via footnote. As madcap and ridiculously nerdy as the first book, but with an extra poignancy due to Landon’s absence.