storyorc's reviews
640 reviews

C.L. Clark takes great care in their exploration of the mindset of a child stolen from her country by its colonisers, trained, and then brought back as a soldier to subdue it decades later. Tourraine's loyalties to both worlds stretch her to pieces on every page of her narration and her muddied actions reflect that. Even as you wince at her choices, you hope for her success.

If that makes up about half the focus, the rest is split between a rich North Africa-inspired fantasy setting, complete with a cast of homey rebels, and a simmering romance between Tourraine and the princess of the nation oppressing her. The power imbalance is not lost on either of them, and causes a believable level of conflict where many other books would sweep it under the rug. The princess, Luca, is neither cackling evil, nor some paragon of good rulership. Most of her cabinet of adversaries and advisors are similarly layered individuals, though a couple do get stuck with the short end of the characterisation stick as unredeemable assholes.

More interesting still, is that the rebels echo this complexity. They are presented as the good guys, not the perfect guys. Thankfully, they also don't fall into the (cough MCU cough) trope of having one person 'go too far' so that we can feel better about liking the sympathetic oppressor characters either. When the rebels use violence, they treat is seriously but there is no hand-wringing or fears of becoming 'as bad as them'. Their righteousness is for Tourraine and the reader to judge. 'The Jackal' is especially interesting, as their most violent member who is at the same time inspiring and clever, and has very mixed feelings about trusting the stolen children.

My only complaint is an occasional indistinctness in the narration. A few events were difficult to parse out exactly what happened and some things happened off-page that felt like they really should have played out in front of us. I also failed to follow all the political machinations, though you could cry skill issue there. Finally, Tourraine's ruminations circled so tightly around the conflict between her homeland and Luca that I often lost sight of her loyalty to her soldiers. Clark goes to great pains to characterise them whenever they do show up (though I didn't see much to like in Pruett if I'm honest) and I expect they're meant to be Tourraine's touchstone the whole way through. However, it seemed like Tourraine's actions put them in danger as much as spared them from it. Perhaps that is just what happens when a conflicted person is faced with only bad options.

Good representation for sapphic romance (queernorm setting!), women in general (most of the people of authority are), and disability (Luca has chronic pain due to a severely damaged leg).

Readers of The Masquerade (Baru Comorant) series may especially enjoy this look into an equivalent tale told from the perspective of an ordinary foot soldier instead of a political genius.

The sort of story that would be called inspiration porn if it wasn't a true account. Also stands in shining opposition to the popular feeling that humanity goes to the dogs in times of scarcity and crisis. 

My only unease lies in how vividly the story is told. Either the old sailors were very thorough poets in their diaries and interviews, or a good helping of artistic license was employed. It does not make the story any less worth hearing but the question of authenticity did linger in my mind during the listening. 

Lansing does criticise the men on occasion though so it is not wholly rosy. I left with an unfavourable impression of Shackleton's ego even as I had to admire his practicality and grit. Worsley comes out of it looking best in my opinion but the crew was full of characters.

Perhaps a short tangent about the Endurance's sister ship, the Aurora, which was charged with setting supply caches for the aborted polar trek and did not escape quite so luckily, would have added some balance too.

Extremely vivid and thrilling though, even when read in the summer heat, and really makes you feel the spirit of adventure. The details of their ingenuity and seamanship are a wonderful bonus.

Donna Tartt's reading is a delight everyone deserves to hear.

I had enjoyed both films and assumed the book would hold nothing in particular for me because of it and I have seldom been so wrong in my life. The terminator has nothing on Mattie Ross. Her tenacity and practically is a gift to all, and an especial gift to little girls who fall shy of feminine ideals. She would be an utter pain in the ass to deal with and watching various men, nice and nasty alike, be forced to do so will have you kicking your feet in glee. This also serves to slyly endear Mattie to the reader so that we, like her impromptu marshal and Texas Ranger guardians/business partners, are put in real fear on the handful of occasions she comes to danger. A fantastic adventure for all ages.

Note that while Mattie is relatively progressive in her views on Indigenous, Mexican, and Black people, as well as immigrants and the Civil War, their treatment in this book does reflect the time in which it was written (1968), and set (1877). 

A very kind walk through many stories of plants' uses and struggles, complete with fascinating botanical factoids and very helpful calls to action with exercises you can do to align your life more with the teachings in the book. The section on reframing resource consumption as a gift economy was especially transformative. Good for adults old and young.

Despite being an alternate Earth setting, Kushiel's Dart demands you set aside your idea of morals and norms more than many a fantasy novel bursting with magic and fanciful landscapes. D'Angeline culture systematically grooms children for careers in sex work, auctions off virginities at fancy parties, and sees nothing wrong in otherwise very likeable people sleeping with those whom they have a huge amount of power over. It also doesn't blink at queerness and is built around the radical commandment to "love as thou wilt". These positives and negatives are explored at a character level too: Phèdre is enthusiastic about her job as a prostitute/spy but is clear with her beloved master that he is not her friend, and is very aware that even though he invites her to decline clients, she is not truly free to choose.

Although there are only a couple instances of literal magic in the story, it is best to view the D'Angeline beauty and sex as magic. They are literally descended from angels. Characters of other cultures often respond to them as if bewitched and the D'Angeline bend wills and learn secrets through seduction as much as through political maneuvering. This could easily become ridiculous (and there are times when it does verge on it) but, like enchanting faeries in folklore of old, the D'Angeline are bound by their own rules. Phèdre is a victim of her own desires as much as she uses her appeal for influence, and even villains fall prey to their own lusts at times. This also applies to honour. Even D'Angeline traitors and thieves have some sliver of a noble spirit that can be played to, as if they were all beautiful actors in a grand tale. It's an interesting look at the drawbacks of pinning your whole culture on chivalric ideals of beauty, love, and honour.

The book is almost as interested in beauty on a line-level as its characters are and the flowery language for the most part enhances the feeling of being told a romantic tale of heroines and knights. Carey finds a way to breathe life into her descriptions of parties and gowns long after I would have thought I'd grow numb to them. Phèdre is constantly finding beauty in people and things that other narrators would skim past, even in people who abuse her or foreigners her countrymen find ugly. She does so partly by finding something to respect in their personalities but, markedly, will also usually highlight an aspect of their physical features, too so it is not just a cop-out 'they have a beautiful soul' kind of thing. At first, I dismissed Phèdre as overly obsessed with aesthetics but her showing us the beauty in everyone is what makes it so painful to see them do evil, or endure it. I had so much more anguish and heartache and love for the characters of in this book than I expected.

Perhaps more even than the character work and political plot machinations, this book is interested in the intersection of love and pain. One is never far behind the other. The world Carey has crafted demands equally that people love and that they suffer for that love, to the point that Phèdre's identity as the once-in-a-generation anguisette (sexual masochist) takes on the space that would be occupied by a farm-boy Chosen One in any other novel. If that subject matter interests you at all, I can't think of another popular fictional work as invested in the question of whether pain is necessary - even good for - love.

As if the softly magical archipelago world and beloved-bedtime-story-prose weren't lovely enough, this journey is also kind to its protagonist, Ged, as navigates his very relatable fumbles with pride and fear of death.  For all his faults, Ged does manage to make his found family of some of the Earthsea's most gentle and wise characters. The resolution is exciting not only for its action but because it leaves us with a sense of wild promise and possibility for ourselves too. A masterclass in exploring fears and encouraging children without talking down to them or softening consequences.

Gorgeously, and at times unnervingly, illustrated overview of the Haudenosaunee origins for children and adults alike. I was particularly touched and inspired that it is a tale of banding together to help everyone instead of to kill the villain.

Great for anyone looking for drama, men displaying emotion very fetchingly, and a generous sprinkling of creepy stuff going on in the woods! Fans of Supernatural, Teen Wolf, and similar shows will get a kick out of this one.

Little long for what it was for my tastes and Nick was so hot and cold in the middle I lost some respect for him but the sweet parts are very sweet and the bickering is fun too. Most of all, I applaud the bold new take on the Mothman's true nature; I cackled when I realised where he'd really come from.

I was drawn to this book to see how a character bound to do no harm would negotiate an empire/rebellion situation and there are a lot of clever uses of tools, alongside some fun cheating. There is some discussion of whether pacifism is desirable but there are stronger themes in the book than that.

If you like to feel smart, picture cool action in your head, and enjoy MCU style quipping, this is the book for you. It has more meat on its bones thematically than most Hollywood productions too, and infinity times the budget, so it's a cinematic blast. The level of performance kept me from really connecting to most of the characters but there are times when Nomad's plumbing of his moral depths comes close. This plumbing was done a little too verbosely for my tastes as I prefer to see the changes in action and be trusted to understand what I'm seeing. Sanderson's clarity is a gift in battle sequences but strikes me as a little heavy-handed on the emotional side of his work. I'm also personally not a fan of the divine plan/fate paradigm so a few ruffled feathers on that account for me. Still, all the Is are dotted and Ts crossed to form a very coherent narrative with thrilling set pieces.

Perhaps not the audiobook for this one, however, as there were some distracting choices in voices for the villain and one prominent old man.

A veritable buffet of nonhuman intelligence.

At first, Pax's wilderness seems like any on Earth; full of dumb animals and plants for humans to dominate. These humans intend to work harmoniously with their wilderness but still expect to be on top of the pyramid. They also call everything by Earth names - eagles, lions, crabs, bamboo, coral, pineapples, and more. It's only in passing remarks that the reader can piece together the fact that these creatures are far more intelligent than their Earth counterparts. Pax eagles cook their food over fires, Pax crabs have a trade network, and Pax plants - one particular plant stands beside humanity as the main character of the entire book. Various characters remark that Pax is older than Earth so its life has had more time to evolve. This book is an exploration of different flavours of intelligence that may be out there (or even here, on Earth, if we don't choke them out before they too, have time to evolve) and what it might take for such intelligences to not only coexist but learn from each other. None of the big three intelligent species in this book are left untouched by the others, nor unharmed. The balance is terrifyingly fragile and the balancers resist characterisation as simply heroes or villains. 

This is a story of an imperfect quest at a societal level to create and maintain some 'mutualism', as they call it, under which all can thrive. There's a few strands of Asimov's first Foundation book in its DNA too - another scrappy people with a money-where-their-mouth-is dedication to the idea that "violence is the last refuge of the incompetent", though these settlers have more help and encounter more friction in executing their plans.