Don't need to be a poetry expert to get snatched up in the unpretentious beauty of these poems. There's good variety but my favourites, 4 & 21, felt like those nights in the country that are lush and full of life and just unnerving enough to keep you humble.
A treat to get a taste of scary stories from authors with more arctic experience than most. It is interesting to see what role this cold landscape plays in each stories, from hunter to saviour to judge, jury & executioner.
In terms of straight horror, I most enjoyed the first short story, Iqsinaqtutalik Piqtuq: The Haunted Blizzard. Of the post-apocalyptic horror stories, Wheetago War II: Summoners was most compelling to me, with its hints at humanity's last bastions, a terrifying varieties of monsters, and the spiritual implications of a world that allows them to roam free. Finally, I'd like to shout out Sila for a simple, short, believable tragedy that will stay with me for a while.
Very grateful for the pronunciation guide in the back as well! This collection left me wanting more arctic horror from Inuit authors. I've enjoyed icy horror from non-indigenous authors (typically from the point of view of a scientist visiting the arctic) but the way these stories and Moon of the Crusted Snow (set in a still-cold-but-not-arctic Northern Canadian Anishinaabe community) incorporate the trappings of day-to-day cold-weather life make the supernatural elements feel so much more real and threatening.
Everything in this novel is engineered to create or satisfy romantic/sexual tension between the two leads. On that, it delivers with an indulgence few dare outside of fanfiction. Everything else is either an eye roll or downright laughable, but also mostly entertaining because of that.
Things that strain the patience:
Why Violet's status as a General's daughter makes her a special target for MURDER in the academy. Personally, if my classmate's parent had the third highest military position in the country, I would not want to them to even know my name, let alone as her daughter's killer. The guy who wants Violet dead most doesn't even have a political revenge motive, he's just a professional hater.
Violet scorning Dain for coddling her while allowing Xaden to, and the narrative trying to gaslight us into believing he isn't.
One too many protagonist traits for Violet: her hair is half silver (sure, if the universe is going to saddle her with fantasy Ehlers-Danlos, at least bundle in a cool aesthetic); she's this nation's equivalent to nobility (ok, at least that won't be the big twist later); she's extremely smart and loves books (no author can resist giving these traits); all the hot boys like her (it is romantasy); she's the first ever to bond TWO dragons, one of whom is the off-limits giant one (nice, she's finally getting her dues), her power turns out to be stopping time (OP AF), her OTHER power is a lightning insta-kill so strong no-one in living memory has ever seen it (does the army even need anyone else??). Continuing to bully/baby her at this point is downright unhinged but that doesn't stop!
Copious, copious lusting. I signed on for a lot but have mercy.
The telepathy scales from psychic WhatsApp to a Vulcan mindmeld depending purely on whether it would be more dramatic for them to be intruding on each other or hiding things and barely impacts the story.
Rhiannon and Ridoc need more than one personality trait each. Every time we see them, one has to say something like 'sleep with that hot girl yet?' to the other in order to assure us that they have lives but I would much rather see those lives weaved into the plot. Liam has more nuance and he only comes in halfway.
The dialogue bounces between clever twitter burn and fanfic declaration. The novel would feel noticeably more mature with every third 'fucking' deleted and the characters would sound more natural with fewer clearly-set-up witty retorts.
This is what epic fantasy for today's general audiences is all about. It keeps the vast, lived-in world, the (new!) magical races, and the brick-like length of classic fantasy but also weaves in complex politics and a certain gentleness toward its heroes that reflects modern tastes.
With Sanderson's immense popularity comes criticism. Most common, that his prose is simplistic, that his 'hard' magic lacks magic, and that there is too much hand-holding with plot implications. I'll address them one at a time:
First, this is not a flowery book. There were a few fun verb choices and the dialogue can be snappy but it also strays into cheesy on occasion and I was never moved to reread or dwell on a description. However, far worse than being simple is the sin of getting in the way. Sanderson's 'windowpane' prose, as he himself calls it, may not delight but you always understand what is happening - often with cool, clear visuals too. Also, simple style does not equal simple substance. There is one betrayal in particular that disappointed me at first for seeming to flatten the betrayer, only to reveal a much more layered motivation than greed. The only place this lack of memorability hurts the book is in the few mottos and snippets of wisdom passed down to our heroes which have that motivational poster feel. Not bad, just bland. It is a very accessible book.
Second, Sanderson's matter-of-fact approach to magic does cost him in mystique and wonder but it buys an impressive amount of verisimilitude and the ability to present a magical situation and give his little nerd readers the joy of deducing what's about to happen. When a surgeon's apprentice explains that clean water washes away rot 'spren', we accept it (and, by extension, the larger concept of these spirits) thanks to real-world knowledge of germs. When a warrior fuelled by stormlight leaps into a group of enemies who use it for jewelry, we know shit is about to go down. It is odd how little cohesion there is between spren, shardblades, lashings, old magic, etc. (especially since Sanderson advices going deep on one type of magic before adding more) but I wouldn't put it past him to reveal some unifying feature down the line. He does also attempt to revive the sense of mystery via characters researching magic but that feels so much less grounded in contrast that it's difficult to care about beyond plot implications.
Third, I personally never felt robbed of putting two and two together by being screamed at that the answer was four. Sanderson is not shy about confirming your predictions once they are revealed, but I still had fun getting to the answers ahead of a few characters (though not so far ahead as to be annoying, which is also a skill). Now, I wouldn't complain if characters were more subtle in their internal dialogue but it's not a deal-breaker. (I do need them to stop all saying Stormfather, but x is y, however.)
With the popular criticisms out of the way, I can now level my own:
Too long! This is actually a fairly popular criticism but it is correct. Kaladin's storyline of building up Bridge Four is the only one that justified that chipping-away-at-rock feeling so many chapters bring. Dalinar's in particular was extremely back-loaded in terms of fun plot advancement. You need some time to build up a world like Roshar but if the entire LotR trilogy is only 100,000 words more than this first book (~380,000 words), we have room to strive for more efficiency at least.
I don't care about the apocalypse-level events, either past or future, and I'm concerned that it will dwarf all the smaller-scale character work built up over so many pages. Big Bads have a flattening effect on nuance. I'm not hopeless in this regard, due to a twists about Voidbringers which suggests future moral nuance, but I am wary.
Wit/Hoid has DMPC written all over him. Enough of his jokes and affect are landing for me so far that I like him but he's on thin ice.
Neither criticism nor praise, but an observation: religion and faith plays a large part in this book. Not the easily-dismissible fantasy religion either; these people are not worshipping Marvo the Maker or Trill the Trickster, they call their god the Almighty. There is a historic war where the fantasy Catholics tried to seize control and were beaten so bad priests are now forbidden from owning anything. Two of the POV characters are explicitly religious, with the third being drawn to it here and then. What's more, it's not simple uninterrogated faith, which would be easy to call unfashionable and dismiss. There is at least one very likeable atheist character and the faithful POV characters question their faith in intelligent ways. There is debate where both sides seem to score points that sound very much like you would hear from good-faith modern debate. I will be very interested to see the religious status of our heroes at the end of the series.
Finally, I want to shout out the little scientific sketches included opposite each of the chapter titles. Great visual aid, cute, intriguing, lent a sense of realism. Love them.
Finally, finally, I need to commend this book for something I have honestly never encountered in epic fantasy before: ending a dramatic confrontation with "also, I'm fucking your mom. bye".
The racism is mostly fantasy racism but these fantasy races do have some features in common with real-world races. For example, the 'Shin' are described as looking wide-eyed and childlike due to their short stature and monolids, but their names and practices do not resemble any real-world culture. The enslaved race's skin is mixed black and red (though they are not the only dark-skinned race). The POV characters belong to a race with medium-brown skin but which also has light eyes. There seems to have been an effort to avoid one-to-one real-world parallels.
Romance for adults. How have I never read a romance about two people finding love late in life before? And it's sci-fi! The stakes are high, the tech is creative (hello, artificial wombs with babies floating around that need looking after), and the cultures feel real enough to facilitate the conflict of ideals between leads. The politics also come across clever without taking up so much space as to be boring.
What glows about this book is how it is so enjoyable despite featuring two mature, intelligent, measured characters. After a bit of a tumultuous forced-proximity start, it turns out they are both as reasonable and generous as two people on opposite sides of an armed conflict can be. It's not a will-they-won't-they, it's a will-the-world-let-them-won't-it. There are moments of high drama, but also moments of day-to-day life. It makes the usual formula of pining and misunderstandings feel juvenile. Despite being set in the stars, this couple feels like they could be your aunt and uncle. Aspirational in a very comforting way.
As a love story between a god and a mortal in ancient times or a feminist retelling, it is soothing and well-written but as an adaptation of the myth of Psyche & Eros, it is lacking in complexity. Even the basic conflict of their love being compelled by arrows is sidestepped.
Psyche, especially, is unrecognisable from her mythological counterpart. Although her confidence, stubbornness and battle prowess are admirable, I am more interested in the untrained Psyche who still takes a dagger in with the lamp to see her unknown lover, whom Aphrodite's tasks drive to the brink of suicide, and who opens the box of divine beauty not because she trips, but because she hopes Eros will forgive her if she can just be pretty enough. McNamara's Psyche is a good role model, she is strong and she apologises for her mistakes, but she feels more like a hero's tale than a real woman. Work is still needed to turn the mythological Psyche into a relatable woman, but I was hoping to see that instead of a new character.
I enjoyed the tidbits of ancient day to day life and the characteristics of the various gods, as well as their curses and infighting. The writing style is also fitting for gods of love, though it contains a few too many adjectives for my personal taste. My issue with this book is not in its execution but in the way its idea flattens the myth into a romance that plays too safely to modern tastes.
Joshua Riley was a wonderful pick to narrate the Eros chapters in the audiobook, however.
Does what you'd expect from the cover/blurb with a few bonuses: Corvin builds some of Hell out for her characters to saunter through, but not more than is needed for this kind of story. The portrayal of Satan was relatively intimidating. Lucifer (separate character) occasionally hits on a bit of the fathomless-mourning-yet-not-regret vibes which make fallen angels so compelling. The monster-woman built up as the final obstacle for the main character has a cool design when she finally comes into play (would have made a more interesting main character perhaps).
Drawbacks: Many makeover scenes, many arena battles. I skipped both. Some of the dialogue is too Buffy for something written in 2020. The main character is perfect and blameless and oh so small (this will be another bonus for some). All other women are either enemies to defeat in battle, bitches, or the one makeover friend. I also thought it would be queerer (missed opportunity imo) but that's down to personal preference.
The first half is ugly people behaving either boringly or badly but in a way that makes you recoil rather than lean in to see the mess. How much of that is necessary to make the bull-fighting section as gripping as it was, I'm not sure. Hemmingway's short stories and novellas are so tight, you feel he must have been able to make us suffer less to get to the part where suddenly the pages are flying past.
I understand from researching the title and Hemmingway's comments on the book that it's intended to show that the Lost Generation is not so lost but I struggle to see it. Our main character endures but seemingly only to be taken advantage of again and again by worse people of better breeding. Perhaps that willingness to hope and work hard (when not spending so much on holiday it makes you cringe) is a virtue in itself. However, even if you consider it hopeless, as I'm tempted to, it's a fantastic portrayal of that downtrodden acceptance of an imperfect life. Very much about settling and accepting a bad lot; perhaps that's why it wasn't set in America.
If nothing else, it's academically fascinating to watch Hemmingway pile on the weight of unsaid things atop his sparse and simple prose. Occasionally, a character does admit what they actually think about their grotesque little love polygon but the story is at its most tense when they're sat around talking about anything else. I didn't appreciate how there was an elephant behind the elephant in the room until this passage came after a simple dinner with friends:
It was like certain dinners I remember from the war. There was much wine, an ignored tension, and a feeling of things coming that you could not prevent happening.
Reading the book with the shadow of the war in mind might yield richer results.
Antisemitism, including from the narrator, goes unchecked by the narrative beyond the general impression that all the characters are arseholes. Black characters are allowed very little personhood. K- and n-slurs used. A 34yr old woman seduces a 19yr old boy. General period-typical sexism abounds. The main character is wounded in a way that prevents them from having sex and it is implied the woman who loves him will not be with him because of it, though she doesn't seem to stay with uninjured men any better.
The magic system masquerading as hard science is the most fascinating part of this world. Calendrical rot. Consensus reality. Exotics. Invariable ice. Carrion bombs. Every name and every description of devastation is evocative. If this were a painting, I would call it impressionist rather than realistic since I don't have a clear picture of any of the fortresses or ships, but I am clear on the many varied ways a blast from their weapons might unmake me. Perhaps most original of all is that Yoon Ha Lee, a Stanford mathematician, envisions all this resting on the back of mathematical equations rather than magic.
The two lead characters enjoy nuance in their motivations and ethics, though I was a little disappointed how Cheris becomes more a vessel to explore Jedao once he shows up than the quiet, principled captain we met in the first quarter. Luckily, Jedao is compelling. There is little to bite into in the way of secondary cast, however; the Hexarchate - their government - and the factions eating other within is more vibrant than anyone else beyond Cheris and Jedao. Being drip-fed information about them through their manners, meetings, and machines was as good fun as any murder mystery. I would have swapped about 10% of the military talk for another strong character who stuck around - especially an antagonist, as there were a couple intriguing prospects - but the fans of military SF this book targets might disagree.
I imagine my rating would increase upon a re-read since I would understand more of the lingo and implications now I have the basics down*, but there wasn't quite enough to ground me in the setting and character to make me want to rush back in. The ending is bold and implies book #2 will tackle the permeability of one's identity, however, so I can't say I'm not tempted.
*This is a dirty lie; I needed about 10 more IQ points or 10% less abstract language to grasp Jedao's attack on the shields; as it was, it felt a little like a friend describing their dream. Limited to only a very high-level understanding, I don't think I was quite as wowed by his genius as intended.