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spinstersam's review against another edition
4.0
Cherryh always does fantastic, detailed world building with interesting cultures and fully fleshed out characters.
michael_d_barnett's review
4.0
When I started this novel I did not realize it was considered the third book in a series. For much of the novel I thought perhaps I had missed something by not reading the previous two. But when the novel ends it becomes clear that previous stories or not, this is a stand alone novel that asks its own questions and causes its own disturbance. Consistent tone and masterful storytelling. Cherryh deserves more respect than she gets.
juushika's review against another edition
3.0
A child who looks suspiciously human is raised under the exacting eye of an alien. Cherryh has any number of recurring themes, but perhaps the most frequent is the way that society and individuals cause and ameliorate trauma, and her argument is generally that society, its structures and standards, causes harm, often intentionally; and individuals, particularly when they deviate from social limitations, have the ability to alleviate that harm--to an extent. Communication is pivotal but ambiguous, because it's a tool of both society and individuals; individual relationships frequently exist in subtext, in the struggle for language. The theme is never straightforward, as the boundary between society and individual, and the ways in which individuals reject or perpetuate society, are complex.
Cuckoo's Egg is about the highly suspect justification for poor communication and trauma. The poor communication is a plot device, used badly to build tension, but within the narrative it harms, it helps, it's interrogated but reinforced. Trauma is socially-sparked by individually enacted; it's inevitable, it's larger than the characters, but it never feels forgivable. The worldbuilding is reminiscent of Le Guin's Hainish novels, particularly the role of technology and the guild of warrior-monk-judges; as mentioned, the pacing is contrived; Cherryh's human-alien interactions are consistently strong--and these details inform the book's quality, which to be honest is just okay. But that central theme is far more interesting. This isn't weirder or more disconcerting, or complex or gracefully rendered, than what Cherryh does with the theme elsewhere, but the fact that it does feel forced makes it more confrontational and self-interrogative. There's not a lot of comfort in Cherryh's hurt/comfort, but I love that comfort, I love its intensity and reliability and and subtext--and this refuses that comfort and calls the trope itself into question. This is another Cherryh that I'd call more interesting than enjoyable, but I love how it speaks to her body of work and I'm glad I read it.
Cuckoo's Egg is about the highly suspect justification for poor communication and trauma. The poor communication is a plot device, used badly to build tension, but within the narrative it harms, it helps, it's interrogated but reinforced. Trauma is socially-sparked by individually enacted; it's inevitable, it's larger than the characters, but it never feels forgivable. The worldbuilding is reminiscent of Le Guin's Hainish novels, particularly the role of technology and the guild of warrior-monk-judges; as mentioned, the pacing is contrived; Cherryh's human-alien interactions are consistently strong--and these details inform the book's quality, which to be honest is just okay. But that central theme is far more interesting. This isn't weirder or more disconcerting, or complex or gracefully rendered, than what Cherryh does with the theme elsewhere, but the fact that it does feel forced makes it more confrontational and self-interrogative. There's not a lot of comfort in Cherryh's hurt/comfort, but I love that comfort, I love its intensity and reliability and and subtext--and this refuses that comfort and calls the trope itself into question. This is another Cherryh that I'd call more interesting than enjoyable, but I love how it speaks to her body of work and I'm glad I read it.
embermantles's review against another edition
1.0
There were an uncomfortable amount of references to the main character's genitals.
Also kept thinking the book was going to start having any kind of plot, but there's no over-arching anything. Except that the main character doesn't know what's expected of him and nobody really tells him anything.
Also kept thinking the book was going to start having any kind of plot, but there's no over-arching anything. Except that the main character doesn't know what's expected of him and nobody really tells him anything.
engrossedreader's review against another edition
5.0
essinink's review against another edition
2.0
C.J. Cherryh's work is always a gamble; it tends to be slow-building and heavy on the details, but it usually pays off. Keyword: Usually.
The human boy Haras (called Thorn) is an infant when he's given into old Duun's keeping. Duun is Hataani, a kind of warrior-monk-judge in the alien Shonun society. His ways are harsh and uncompromising, but he raises and teaches Thorn as he would any other Shonun infant. Of course, as Thorn grows, he can't help but notice that no one in the world looks like him. And so the questions grow: Who is he? What is he? Where did he come from? What is his purpose? Duun gives few answers, and meanwhile others watch to see what this boy becomes.
It's an interesting idea, to raise a human in an alien society and see what comes of it, but while it's notable for its human-as-other perspective and twists on alien contact, I found the execution tepid. Usually Cherryh borders on overwhelming facts and claustrophobic psychological insights. Not so here. If anything, I wish the prose had been been more detailed. Between Thorn's sheltered understanding and Duun's taciturn narrative, Shonun society remains frustratingly opaque, with key caste elements only announced in the run-up to the finale. While I understood the gist of the factors at play, it was a bit of a muddle.
Not bad, but far from Cherryh's best. 2/5 stars.
The human boy Haras (called Thorn) is an infant when he's given into old Duun's keeping. Duun is Hataani, a kind of warrior-monk-judge in the alien Shonun society. His ways are harsh and uncompromising, but he raises and teaches Thorn as he would any other Shonun infant. Of course, as Thorn grows, he can't help but notice that no one in the world looks like him. And so the questions grow: Who is he? What is he? Where did he come from? What is his purpose? Duun gives few answers, and meanwhile others watch to see what this boy becomes.
It's an interesting idea, to raise a human in an alien society and see what comes of it, but while it's notable for its human-as-other perspective and twists on alien contact, I found the execution tepid. Usually Cherryh borders on overwhelming facts and claustrophobic psychological insights. Not so here. If anything, I wish the prose had been been more detailed. Between Thorn's sheltered understanding and Duun's taciturn narrative, Shonun society remains frustratingly opaque, with key caste elements only announced in the run-up to the finale. While I understood the gist of the factors at play, it was a bit of a muddle.
Not bad, but far from Cherryh's best. 2/5 stars.
ladymacbeth_1985's review
emotional
mysterious
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
This book was unputdownable. It was fascinating and poignant and kind of sad, the story carrying a melancholy and ponderous tone, as well as deep sympathy for the human character who undergoes severe manipulation his entire life.
The most fascinating thing about this novel is that Thorn - the human - grows up isolated from the Shounin society and Duun deliberately withholds information from him about the world and culture. The story jumps between Duun and Thron in terms of third-person POV, so we learn somewhat of why Duun is doing this but we also identify with Thorn because of his confusion, desire to fit in, and desperation to please his adopted father and live up to his legacy.
The most fascinating thing about this novel is that Thorn - the human - grows up isolated from the Shounin society and Duun deliberately withholds information from him about the world and culture. The story jumps between Duun and Thron in terms of third-person POV, so we learn somewhat of why Duun is doing this but we also identify with Thorn because of his confusion, desire to fit in, and desperation to please his adopted father and live up to his legacy.
Duun starts training Thron in his “hatani” warrior culture as a child, a rigorous, somewhat emotionally abusive process that further leads to his confusion, as everything about Thorn’s life seems to be a test by Duun. As such, the entire book has a bit of a mystery quality to it, as we’re never sure what Thorn is or where he’s from (though he’s obviously Terran). This withholding aspect makes perfect sense at the end of the book though, with a satisfying reveal.
In terms of alien culture, while there was some difference in the way society was set up, at times Duun felt like a human with fur. I suppose some of this is because it’s an intimate novel, focusing mainly on the dynamic and relationship between Thorn and Duun, so we don’t see a lot of the aliens at large and the fact that we are afforded such a close purview into Duun's head serves to lessen his alienness. There also wasn’t space in the novel for too much complexity, as the relationship aspect was intricate enough. Still, I loved how Thorn was the displaced one and how we learn about the aliens as he does.
Overall, it’s an addictive read that I highly recommend.
annaswan's review against another edition
4.0
It kept my interest, but it was oh so emotionally tense
sci_fi's review against another edition
5.0
‰ЫПI took an alien, I held it, fed it, warmed it‰ЫУit was small, but it would grow. I took it up on a mountain and lived with it alone. I slept under one roof with it, I made it angry, I encouraged it and pushed it and I had nightmares, minnow, I dreamed that it might turn on me. There were times I held it that my flesh crawled; I did these things.‰Ыќ