discardeddustjacket's reviews
317 reviews

Wow. Ok, let me collect my thoughts.

This story is an incredibly imaginative and deeply moving study of generational trauma, the struggle between the importance of remembering and the need to survive, and the power of community—of a people, as one, sharing the weight of history together, grieving and celebrating together.

And beyond that, I love how this book, like its characters, can’t exist on its own. Solomon openly embraces the direct inspiration that birthed the story’s central mythology: a song of the same name by clipping., who, in turn, acknowledges its origins in the work of Detroit-based musical duo Drexciya. 

The afterword puts it beautifully:

Wow, if you want a book that will break your heart, put it back together again, and leave you in a messy, tearful heap, this is for you! 

The found family, the aromantic representation, the generous use of neopronouns, not to mention the quality of the story-telling in general—I just loved everything about this. 

Akwaeke Emezi doesn’t miss.

This story is both tender and gut-wrenching. I loved Jam as a protagonist and her relationships with both Pet and Redemption. I loved the depictions of dissociation and non-verbal communication.

The theme of justice, especially in a post-prison society was also handled really well, I think. I just really appreciated all the different elements of the story, from the building of the town of Lucille and the quasi mythology surrounding its revolutionary history, to the magical realism, to the character relationships. It was all so well-crafted.

Wow. It’s been a while since I had a reading experience this immersive. I enjoyed this book even more than Winter’s Orbit and that’s saying something.

I am obsessed with Tennal and Surit. I think the relationship dynamic where one person is an earnest, honorable, controlled type with encyclopedic knowledge of rules and regulations, while the other is a petulant, rebellious, flirtatious chaos gremlin might just be my new favorite. 

I loved the way it seemed like Surit rescuing Tennal from losing himself (not just within the sync but in the void of space), is such a strong allegory for the way that those of us struggling with depression are tempted to surrender ourselves to the lies our mind is telling us about our worth, and how we sometimes need someone to ground us by reminding us of the truths about ourselves—truths we might not be able to see from our vantage point. 

I also loved—and I don’t know if this was intentional—the way this story kind of turned the sci-fi/fantasy romance trope of a “soul bond” on its head and turned it into something dangerous. There’s so many stories about protagonists in a romance who develop this telepathic connection wherein they’re able to feel what their partner is feeling and hear what they’re thinking, and this is often something the reader is rooting for—something to be celebrated.

But here it feels like the author is asking us to consider: “Would that truly be healthy? What if it resembled something destructive? What if it led to the parties involved losing themselves as individuals?”

Overall, I really really really loved this book.

The best works of speculative fiction don’t just tell stories about aliens or spaceships or futuristic technology, they tells stories about what it means to be human—stories about relationship, grief, compassion. That’s what Sequoia Nagamatsu has accomplished here.

This is strong story-telling precisely because, despite involving things like talking pigs, euthanasia rollercoasters, robotic dogs, and mortuary services that liquify a loved one and turn them into an ice sculpture, these stories are mainly about people. They’re about family, they’re about community, they’re about hope, and they’re about love.

It didn’t get a higher rating simply because by about 75% of the way through, I had mentally checked out and was kind of forcing myself to continue. But I would still recommend this book to any sci-fi lover.

Listen, during the first.. I’d say maybe like 60 or so pages, I was almost questioning the experience everyone was claiming to have with this book. The prose bordered on too lyrical for my taste at first. It’s certainly not an easy read; it takes effort and concentration (which absolutely no one would call strengths of mine).

But despite my initial reticence, somewhere around maybe 1/3 of the way through, I felt myself becoming undeniably engrossed. By the time I reached 2/3, I was desperately devouring pages. This book had me crying. This book had my heart racing. This book had me wanting to literally cheer on my living room sofa like a buffoon.

It does read like poetry. I found it often helps to read out loud—to taste the words as you’re reading them—and I think that’s entirely intentional. There’s so much emphasis put on words in this story: the consumption (literal and figurative) of words, words as connection, and words as shelter.

I now understand what everyone was talking about. What a masterpiece. All I want to do now is re-read it.

This book is 640 pages long, and from what I’ve read so far, 50% of it is spent inside the narrator’s head, unnecessarily detailing all of their thoughts and emotions. Sometimes there’s whole chapters that are basically just the characters sitting and thinking about things.

It’s like the author doesn’t trust the reader to be empathetic or clever enough to deduce how a character is feeling if they don’t spend ten pages explaining their emotions in a hundred different ways. We get it! She’s conflicted! You could have communicated that in one paragraph, max!

I swear, every chapter has to have at least one instance where our protagonist, Delora, thinks to herself something along the lines of: “I can’t believe I’m here with a Duskwalker!”/“This is so wild, he’s a Duskwalker!”/“I must be insane, how can my body be responding this way to a DuSKwAlKeR!?1!” I was ready to throw my phone across the room.

Not to mention all of the world-building is accomplished through tedious exposition. The entire first chapter is basically just the protagonist thinking about her life and the town she lives in, in order to spell out to the reader everything they need to know about her backstory. It’s heavy-handed and boring to wade through.

For instance, in this story we meet Delora as she is being transported from her village to the edge of the veil in the first chapter, where we learn that the intent is to throw her from a cliff as punishment for her crimes. And through Delora’s memories, the entire story of her crimes is then explained. Imagine instead, if the story began with Delora falling from that cliff and the reader, as well as Magnar, are left to question why she’s there. What if it was only after the two of them develop a relationship built on trust that Delora reveals her story while sharing it with Magnar (and by extension the reader). That would’ve been so much more interesting and would’ve given the story so much tension and easy propulsion.

I’m sorry this seems harsh, because I enjoyed the first book in this series (even though I think this problem was prevalent to a lesser degree in that one too) but this was just too much. 270 pages in and I was like “is this thing wrapping up yet?” And I was only 40% of the way through!! 

Gossip Girl meets Get Out. This book had my hands sweating and my heart racing! It was equally infuriating and enthralling; I couldn’t stop turning the page.

I really admired how Àbíké-Íyímídé used her characters to highlight a lot of the many ways that whiteness manifests to harm Black people. There’s the outwardly violent and malicious folks, but then there’s the white character whose family is poor and doesn’t necessarily benefit from class privilege, but who resents Black people for what they view as “affirmative action” or unearned advancement, and harnesses their white privilege to exert power. 

Then there’s the “decent” white person who recognizes the harm of systemic racism and wants to be viewed as separate from it, but also does nothing to challenge it because it’s “too big” and they’re just one person—one person who continues to benefit it.

First of all, I want to point out that I’m aware I’m reading this as an outsider to South Korean culture. I’m reading a translation that has likely lost important nuance. I’m reading this book out of its context; I’m not its intended audience.

So I don’t hold it against Baek Sehee that this book missed the mark for me. It was wildly popular in Korea, so it has accomplished its goal, it has nothing to prove to me whatsoever.

However, since I did read it, here are my thoughts: it did a remarkable job of really highlighting the differences in how mental health is treated in Korea versus America. I audibly gasped at some of the things being said by the psychiatrist, like “Don’t think about the future too much. Your anxiety can become a burden to others” (page 57). That sort of professional advice would not be tolerated here.

I really didn’t find the format of this book very useful. It had potential, but more than anything I felt as though the therapy transcripts sort of became repetitive and didn’t quite go anywhere. Perhaps that’s the point—to show that progress is slow and doesn’t always announce itself in flashing neon letters, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.

I understand that Sehee’s aim was to, in her words, “hold my hand up high and shout, I’m right here, hoping that someone would see me waving, recognize themselves in me and approach me, so we could find comfort in each other’s existence,” and to that end, I think the book is successful. Perhaps in a culture where mental health is just not talked about, transcribing and publishing one’s therapy sessions is itself a bold act, and reading them is validating for those who feel alone in their struggles.

Like I said, it just wasn’t for me. And that’s okay.

If we were rating on vibes alone, this book would get five stars, easily. The writing was so cozy and charming. Howl and Sophie, and really all the characters are so well-written and lovable, even for all their flaws. 

I truly do not understand why I had so much trouble following the plot! I mean, this book is literally for children; it’s considered a middle grade fantasy. 13 year-olds are grasping this story and apparently I couldn’t! 

There’s just SO much going on. The missing prince/wizard plus the Witch of the Waste and her curse on Howl (the parameters of which, I still don’t really get—it was taken from lines of a poem? Or something? But like when and how did she place it on him and how does it actually give her power over him?) plus Sophie’s curse plus Howl and Calcifer’s contract plus… Wales? 

There’s so many curses and characters under curses that I had trouble keeping straight. I just felt like I needed to have a whiteboard handy so that I could map out all the characters, their curses, and their connections to one another, etc.

I’m still fuzzy on Lettie’s association with the dog-man? And I know both he and the scarecrow are like, patchwork pieces of both Suliman and Prince Justin but I’m still a bit lost about that. Suliman’s skull was the one in Howl’s castle? How did it end up there?

And why was Miss Angorian (who is apparently the Witch’s fire demon? Huh?) working as a school teacher to Howl’s nephew in Wales? Like I’m SO LOST!!!