oatmilktea's reviews
118 reviews

I Who Have Never Known Men seems to have a renaissance right now and it did not disappoint. I am left with an oppressive feeling of loneliness that I cannot seem to shake, was pulled back and forth between hope and resignation, ever wondering about the whys, wheres and what ifs. I was deeply immersed, which made this book challenging for me. I feel touch-starved and lonely, just from reading, and I’ve been pondering over dignity a lot–in captivity, in acceptance of one’s fate, in death. A gruesome but brilliant piece of fiction.

Sex is a prominent theme in the book, and I’d like to elaborate on two sex-related things that bothered me (CN for genitalia and sex):

The myth of the hymen as an actual seal is being perpetuated. Unless the narrator has an extremely rare condition, she should be able to insert her finger into her vagina. Based on what Anthea has told her, the narrator thinks of the hymen as “that barrier that only a man can break with his penis”. I think that’s a pity, given that the author thus contributes to the myth of the hymen as a marker of virginity, reinforcing patriarchal norms and customs.

Furthermore, the story very much focuses on cis-heterosexuality with penile-vaginal penetration as the epitome of sex. Sapphic cis women are represented but their romantic and sexual relationships are relegated to the margins and treated as second-best: “… they gave each other what they could” (89). Cis-heterosexual intercourse however is this great, awe-inspiring secret at first, that the other women are reluctant to impart. I don’t understand that decision–then again, neither does the narrator, which might make my observation pointless. My criticism of the depiction of sapphic love as a Plan B, as it were, still stands though.

That aside, I Who Have Never Known Men is an excellent book that hopefully inspires lively discussions.

Most themes in The Obelisk Gate carry over from the first novel in the series, like power dynamics and oppression, which are expanded upon in this volume. There is a focus on who is and who isn’t considered human, a person worthy of respect and (a dignified) life.

While the plot unfolds and the main quest of the series becomes clear to us and the protagonist, we learn more about the Stillness, its history and all of its people as well as the magic system. The Obelisk Gate is paced better than The Fifth Season in my opinion but that likely attributes to having fewer perspectives and timelines.

Jemisin’s characters are still flawed, multi-faceted, and therefore interesting. There are revelations and defining moments that gave me the chills and show how the characters grow.

It’s just a detail, but I really liked how Jemisin explores the fawn-response; neither flight nor fight nor freeze, but fawn—an attempt to please the aggressor, assuaging them in order to be safe from harm. The author does a good job getting across that terrifying feeling of having to perform obedience and especially affection, because there will be dire consequences if you don’t.

On the flip side, the excessive use of “rust/rusting” as a curse word continues to bother me—it happens to be a pet peeve of mine. The writing is also very colloquial at times, which would take me out of it a little. As for the content, there were so many detailed descriptions of the—broadly speaking—workings of magic that my eyes would occasionally glaze over, and I found myself increasingly unable to follow every single thing that was happening with regards to orogeny, magic, silver threads, obelisks, networks, geodes, spinels etc etc. Those things could have been simplified for my liking.

All in all though, The Obelisk Gate is a really good book! I will definitely read the next and final instalment. 

I really wanted to like this more. The Farthest Shore didn't draw me in as much as the first two volumes, and it felt like it didn't have a proper pay-off. In hindsight, it makes sense that

Cob isn’t such a central figure. He is not the villainous archetype because it is less about him and more about the implications for the world

. Still, I liked reading the Afterword more than the actual story, and that's a little sad. Maybe I just don’t get Le Guin.

I loved Tenar’s journey. This volume was dark (literally) and I was right there with Tenar in the labyrinth.

Schwierig. Inhaltlich wirklich gut—ein beklemmendes, dystopisches Setting, welches zum Nachdenken anregt. Allerdings war das Buch streckenweise sehr anstrengend zu lesen und zwar nicht unbedingt wegen all der Grausamkeiten, sondern wegen der furchtbar staksigen Dialoge. Die waren so seltsam künstlich, dass sie mich teilweise echt genervt haben. Ob das Absicht war? Sind sie so geschrieben, um zu verdeutlichen, wie seelenlos sich Menschen in diesem System geben müssen, um nicht verfolgt zu werden? Oder liegt es daran, dass das Buch älter ist? Ich weiß es nicht. Das Buch hat definitiv Mehrwert, aber es hat mich nicht gepackt, sondern eher gestresst. Bin froh, dass ich es weglegen kann.

A raw, salty world with flawed characters and a protagonist I liked a lot. The magic system is brilliant and Le Guin was a fantastic word smith. However, I struggled with the pacing and had a difficult time getting through it.

I had high expectations dipping my toe into the much beloved Disc World novels, Mort being my first (and as of now last, despite two more sitting on my bookshelf, looking at me reproachfully). Sadly, I didn’t like it as much as I wanted to. The plot and characters were a bit all over the place and the narrative wasn’t funny enough to make up for it. 

The fact that Mort and the Death series as a whole seem to rank high among Pratchett-fans discourages me from exploring more. If I didn’t like one of the alleged best, what’s the point? Especially after trying to get into Small Gods and really not liking it at all.