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3.94 AVERAGE
3.94 AVERAGE
Well, that one was a first - a Jacqueline Carey book to disappoint. The world building was amazing as always, but the plot felt contrived. My personal pet peeve in fantasy - the ~destiny~ - was also way too prominent. It didn't help that Bao and Moirin are such a yawn-inducing couple, despite all the potential.
8/2011 I wonder if I'm just cranky, but I found this, on my second reading, to be much less enjoyable than the first time through. The Mary Sue aspects of Moirin were really jarring. She's perfect, everyone loves her, she surmounts all obstacles and why? Because she has eyes as green as rushes? Because she can summon the twilight and enchant everyone? The Christian parts were just painfully preachy, and the rest was pretty unbelievable, though I stuck with it. Onward to #9. 2.5 stars, more or less.
8/2010 On the face of it, this is a sweeping romance infused with lots and lots of of sex, but what it really is is an extended meditation on the nature of humanity's relationship to its gods. It's a surprisingly delicate story, even though the adventures Moirin endures generally beggar belief in that patented Carey way. The love between Moirin and Bao is believable and adorable and compelling. I found this book hard to put down, and I think I liked it better than the first. I look forward to reading this trilogy from start to finish when it's complete. 4 stars.
8/2010 On the face of it, this is a sweeping romance infused with lots and lots of of sex, but what it really is is an extended meditation on the nature of humanity's relationship to its gods. It's a surprisingly delicate story, even though the adventures Moirin endures generally beggar belief in that patented Carey way. The love between Moirin and Bao is believable and adorable and compelling. I found this book hard to put down, and I think I liked it better than the first. I look forward to reading this trilogy from start to finish when it's complete. 4 stars.
Still not big on Carey's style, but her plotting and world-building has kept me happy for eight books now. I didn't particularly like the whole bit set in Vralia, but that was more than made up for by the latter part, set in Bhodistan.
What I really like most of all about these books is the concept that Terre D'Ange is built on: "Love as thou wilt." There's something so freeing in this idea. Love who you will, and as long as this love is honest and true, it doesn't matter if it is a man or a woman, or more than one man or woman, as happens to the main characters of these books. There are so many types of love, I think, and I, for one, sometimes feel my heart bursting at the seams and wanting to hug or kiss people I know, just to show them I think they're wonderful. But I don't, because that's not the kind of place we live in, however much we are open and accepting.
It also helps that I really like Moirin and Bao, the heroine and hero of this trilogy. They are both just interesting, and I really like their spark. Compared to the first trilogy, most people probably consider them rather tame, but I find this calmer type of love quite readable, too.
What I really like most of all about these books is the concept that Terre D'Ange is built on: "Love as thou wilt." There's something so freeing in this idea. Love who you will, and as long as this love is honest and true, it doesn't matter if it is a man or a woman, or more than one man or woman, as happens to the main characters of these books. There are so many types of love, I think, and I, for one, sometimes feel my heart bursting at the seams and wanting to hug or kiss people I know, just to show them I think they're wonderful. But I don't, because that's not the kind of place we live in, however much we are open and accepting.
It also helps that I really like Moirin and Bao, the heroine and hero of this trilogy. They are both just interesting, and I really like their spark. Compared to the first trilogy, most people probably consider them rather tame, but I find this calmer type of love quite readable, too.
Man, June 17th? And then another age until #3 is out.
There is both reward and danger in reading the books of a series in close succession. Obviously, it’s easier to see the common threads that tie the books together; it’s easier to appreciate the arc of the characters and how events in one book might later affect events in another. I often deepened my appreciation for many series through an extensive re-read (and the same could be said for “marathoning” television shows). Nonetheless, there always exists the problem of burnout, and the temptation to relentlessly compare one book in the series to another. I face the latter problem with Naamah’s Curse. I cannot resist trying to compare it to Naamah’s Kiss.
So rather than tiptoe around this elephant for the entire review, I’m tackling it head-on in a showdown: Naamah’s Kiss versus Naamah’s Curse.
This book picks up immediately where Naamah’s Kiss ends. Having, with Master Lo Feng’s help, resurrected Bao but at the cost of splitting her diadh-anam, Moirin sets off across Ch’in and into the wild Tatar steppes in pursuit of her lover, who himself is seeking answers and solitude. (Yes, she promises to give him space, but apparently that doesn’t extend to an entire country’s worth of space. So she chases after him, because that will make him love her more!)
Moirin falls in with some Tatars, has some good times, and finds Bao. But because this book would suck if it ended on page 100 with a happily-ever-after, Carey engineers a complication: the Great Khan sells Moirin to a fanatical Yeshuite (Christian) who believes it’s his destiny to “save” her by listening to her confess all the dirty sexual acts she’s performed. Hmm.
The first act of Naamah’s Curse cannot hold a candle to Naamah’s Kiss. Carey is at the height of her skill as a writer when she introduces Moirin and speeds through her childhood and adolescence. Moirin grows from a wiry wild thing to a young woman burgeoning with passion and desire. Here, we spend a lot of time listening to the Patriarch of Riva complain about how passion and desire are distractions from serving the One God. Although I liked the reminder that few cultures are as permissive about sex as Terre d’Ange, I found Carey’s portrayal of the Patriarch rather one-dimensional and boring at best. Fanatical though he might be, the idea that he has been spying on Moirin and amassed such a thorough chronicle of her adventures, just because he thinks she is the one being that is the most challenging for him to redeem, doesn’t seem very believable to me.
Notably, there’s much less sex in this book than in the first one. I don’t think Moirin actually has sex until she reunites with Bao, about a hundred pages in. And though the frequency picks up towards the ending, it is never depicted with quite the same relish or detail that features in Naamah’s Kiss. Moirin is no longer the sexual innocent that she was in the first book; indeed, she likens herself to Jehanne as she teaches the Rani a few tricks. It seems that if the first book was Moirin learning to accept and come to terms with her remarkable depth of desire, this book is about Moirin mastering that desire until she can use it for her own ends. This lesson comes full circle when Moirin is confronted with the possibility of seizing the Kamadeva diamond for herself. The diamond’s ability to amplify the desires of anyone who lays eyes upon it would overclock Moirin’s natural attractiveness, turning her into some kind of weird lust goddess. It would not be good times.
Still, I’m going to have to give it to Naamah’s Kiss here. As much as I enjoyed Moirin master her desires here, this book lacks any guiding characters as fun as Jehanne and Raphael. In fact, this book lacks a strong central antagonist. I cited that complaint about the previous book as well, but it wasn’t as much of a problem. Unfortunately, Carey has yet to create a nemesis for Moirin as deliciously twisted as Melisande was for Phèdre. Much like Lord Jiyang from the first book, the Falconer and Spider Queen are pale, stock villains with very little that makes them interesting.
Moirin’s destiny, as indicated by the flickering of her diadh-anam, continues to figure prominently in the plot. She refers to it constantly. Again, I’m not a fan of this. It’s not so much lazy writing as boring writing. Allowing a character the certainty that her actions are “correct” through some objective external instrument removes the ambiguity that should accompany all moral decisions. Carey seems to recognize this problem, because near the climax of the novel she attempts to introduce that ambiguity: Moirin’s diadh-anam refuses to indicate whether killing a man in cold blood while concealed in her magical twilight would be too dishonourable to bear. But it’s a false uncertainty.
Which brings me to the main problem with Naamah’s Curse: Moirin doesn’t suck enough.
Seriously, she faces an amazing number of challenges in this book, and she overcomes them all pretty easily. For example, she eventually begins to go along with the Patriarch in order to lull him into a false sense of security. He gets as far as wanting to baptize her, but he asks her to swear her faith on her diadh-anam. She can’t swear falsely without giving up that spark inside herself, so she refuses. And there’s no drama about the refusal, because we know she can’t do it. Fortunately, the Patriarch’s half-D’Angeline son gets seduced by her hair, so it’s all good.
Moirin’s beauty in Naamah’s Kiss was her vulnerability to external influences. Jehanne and Raphael both wanted something from her. Raphael started using her magic, twisting it for the ends of his Circle, nearly killing her on at least one occasion. This conflict strengthened Moirin and forced her develop into a much more confident person capable of taking action independent of what she thinks her destiny desires from her. In Naamah’s Curse, we see little of that. We see a Moirin on auto-pilot, one who is content to sit back and let things happen. Worse, we see a Moirin who seldom seems tempted, who possesses a certitude so solid as to make her an uninteresting protagonist.
I think at one point she even complains, in what comes as close to breaking the fourth wall as we’ll ever get, that being a heroine is so hard. What did you expect, Moirin? You had the opportunity to stick around Terre d’Ange as a royal companion. You chose the harder path.
Moirin is not a bad character per se. She just lacks for much in the way of challenges in this book, and as a result, her character doesn’t change as swiftly as it did in Naamah’s Kiss. It does change a little, and I like seeing those changes. But if conflict in a book is a river, this is a burbling brook and the first book was raging rapids.
All signs point to the New World (sorry, Terra Nova) for Moirin and a final confrontation with Raphael. (I haven’t yet read the back cover of Naamah’s Blessing as I write this.) I can only hope that she faces the toughest challenges of her life, so she can emerge from them even stronger and take her rightful place alongside Phèdre and Imriel as compelling characters in Carey’s canon.
My reviews of the Moirin trilogy:
← Naamah’s Kiss | Naamah’s Blessing →
Also, check out my reviews of Kushiel’s Legacy!
So rather than tiptoe around this elephant for the entire review, I’m tackling it head-on in a showdown: Naamah’s Kiss versus Naamah’s Curse.
This book picks up immediately where Naamah’s Kiss ends. Having, with Master Lo Feng’s help, resurrected Bao but at the cost of splitting her diadh-anam, Moirin sets off across Ch’in and into the wild Tatar steppes in pursuit of her lover, who himself is seeking answers and solitude. (Yes, she promises to give him space, but apparently that doesn’t extend to an entire country’s worth of space. So she chases after him, because that will make him love her more!)
Moirin falls in with some Tatars, has some good times, and finds Bao. But because this book would suck if it ended on page 100 with a happily-ever-after, Carey engineers a complication: the Great Khan sells Moirin to a fanatical Yeshuite (Christian) who believes it’s his destiny to “save” her by listening to her confess all the dirty sexual acts she’s performed. Hmm.
The first act of Naamah’s Curse cannot hold a candle to Naamah’s Kiss. Carey is at the height of her skill as a writer when she introduces Moirin and speeds through her childhood and adolescence. Moirin grows from a wiry wild thing to a young woman burgeoning with passion and desire. Here, we spend a lot of time listening to the Patriarch of Riva complain about how passion and desire are distractions from serving the One God. Although I liked the reminder that few cultures are as permissive about sex as Terre d’Ange, I found Carey’s portrayal of the Patriarch rather one-dimensional and boring at best. Fanatical though he might be, the idea that he has been spying on Moirin and amassed such a thorough chronicle of her adventures, just because he thinks she is the one being that is the most challenging for him to redeem, doesn’t seem very believable to me.
Notably, there’s much less sex in this book than in the first one. I don’t think Moirin actually has sex until she reunites with Bao, about a hundred pages in. And though the frequency picks up towards the ending, it is never depicted with quite the same relish or detail that features in Naamah’s Kiss. Moirin is no longer the sexual innocent that she was in the first book; indeed, she likens herself to Jehanne as she teaches the Rani a few tricks. It seems that if the first book was Moirin learning to accept and come to terms with her remarkable depth of desire, this book is about Moirin mastering that desire until she can use it for her own ends. This lesson comes full circle when Moirin is confronted with the possibility of seizing the Kamadeva diamond for herself. The diamond’s ability to amplify the desires of anyone who lays eyes upon it would overclock Moirin’s natural attractiveness, turning her into some kind of weird lust goddess. It would not be good times.
Still, I’m going to have to give it to Naamah’s Kiss here. As much as I enjoyed Moirin master her desires here, this book lacks any guiding characters as fun as Jehanne and Raphael. In fact, this book lacks a strong central antagonist. I cited that complaint about the previous book as well, but it wasn’t as much of a problem. Unfortunately, Carey has yet to create a nemesis for Moirin as deliciously twisted as Melisande was for Phèdre. Much like Lord Jiyang from the first book, the Falconer and Spider Queen are pale, stock villains with very little that makes them interesting.
Moirin’s destiny, as indicated by the flickering of her diadh-anam, continues to figure prominently in the plot. She refers to it constantly. Again, I’m not a fan of this. It’s not so much lazy writing as boring writing. Allowing a character the certainty that her actions are “correct” through some objective external instrument removes the ambiguity that should accompany all moral decisions. Carey seems to recognize this problem, because near the climax of the novel she attempts to introduce that ambiguity: Moirin’s diadh-anam refuses to indicate whether killing a man in cold blood while concealed in her magical twilight would be too dishonourable to bear. But it’s a false uncertainty.
Which brings me to the main problem with Naamah’s Curse: Moirin doesn’t suck enough.
Seriously, she faces an amazing number of challenges in this book, and she overcomes them all pretty easily. For example, she eventually begins to go along with the Patriarch in order to lull him into a false sense of security. He gets as far as wanting to baptize her, but he asks her to swear her faith on her diadh-anam. She can’t swear falsely without giving up that spark inside herself, so she refuses. And there’s no drama about the refusal, because we know she can’t do it. Fortunately, the Patriarch’s half-D’Angeline son gets seduced by her hair, so it’s all good.
Moirin’s beauty in Naamah’s Kiss was her vulnerability to external influences. Jehanne and Raphael both wanted something from her. Raphael started using her magic, twisting it for the ends of his Circle, nearly killing her on at least one occasion. This conflict strengthened Moirin and forced her develop into a much more confident person capable of taking action independent of what she thinks her destiny desires from her. In Naamah’s Curse, we see little of that. We see a Moirin on auto-pilot, one who is content to sit back and let things happen. Worse, we see a Moirin who seldom seems tempted, who possesses a certitude so solid as to make her an uninteresting protagonist.
I think at one point she even complains, in what comes as close to breaking the fourth wall as we’ll ever get, that being a heroine is so hard. What did you expect, Moirin? You had the opportunity to stick around Terre d’Ange as a royal companion. You chose the harder path.
Moirin is not a bad character per se. She just lacks for much in the way of challenges in this book, and as a result, her character doesn’t change as swiftly as it did in Naamah’s Kiss. It does change a little, and I like seeing those changes. But if conflict in a book is a river, this is a burbling brook and the first book was raging rapids.
All signs point to the New World (sorry, Terra Nova) for Moirin and a final confrontation with Raphael. (I haven’t yet read the back cover of Naamah’s Blessing as I write this.) I can only hope that she faces the toughest challenges of her life, so she can emerge from them even stronger and take her rightful place alongside Phèdre and Imriel as compelling characters in Carey’s canon.
My reviews of the Moirin trilogy:
← Naamah’s Kiss | Naamah’s Blessing →
Also, check out my reviews of Kushiel’s Legacy!
I think I love Moirin more than I loved Phedre... :)
Kushiel’s Curse continues the adventures of Moirin mac Fainche, now on a quest to find her lover, Bao, who has run off to determine his own fate after their Master Lo sacrificed himself to help Moirin unwittingly bring Bao back to life. Half of Moirin’s soul spark, or diadh-anam, now resides with Bao, guiding her towards him, but making him uncertain of whether or not his feelings for her are genuine.
Leaving Chin behind, Moirin travels through many of the lands of Carey’s world, all of which are based on the real world. Carey seems to be making a point of covering the entire world in her books, with this one crossing Mongolia and India and the next book completing the world tour with the west.
This is, first and foremost, a love story that speaks to the lengths Moirin will go to for those she loves. To be clear, Moirin loves just about everyone. She remains committed to Bao, but Moirin falls in love with the inner beauty and positive traits of many of the people she meets on her journey. As a child of Namaah, Moirin is heavily influenced by desire and believes in the D’Angeline consensual tenet of “Love as thou wilt.”
Through the Alban side of her heritage, Moirin is also a child of the bear goddess, the Maghuin Dhonn. The gifts from these goddesses are manifest in Moirin and this brings her to the attention of a particular Yeshuan Rebbe intent on cleansing her of all those sins and lead her and other sinners to salvation. When this occurs about a quarter of the way into the book, it got my back up. In the second book of Carey’s adventures in Terre D’Ange, readers are introduced to the Habiru, worshippers of Yeshua and the One God. Due to my Christian upbringing, I tend to balk when I have to deal with the religious beliefs I rebelled against in my youth (unexpectedly) showing up in my entertainment and taking a very prominent role. It’s clear that the cultures and religions in this series are all based on actual cultures and religions and it is very easy to identify them all, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to me to find the Christian god’s involvement – especially since the gods of Terre D’Ange are birthed from that very faith. My prejudice usually isn’t enough to make me turn away, and I appreciated the way Kushiel’s Chosen presented it as something more for its main character, Phèdre, to learn and comprehend in order to achieve her goals. In fact, as the books progress and more cultures and religions earn some focus, Carey does so with great care and respect through her characters. But, unlike the previous adventures with Yeshua where I could get over my religious prejudice because the telling was never delivered with preachiness or condemnation, Moirin’s introduction to the Habiru, it is nothing but preachy and condemning.
As Moirin tries to justify her religious beliefs and subsequent actions to her captors, it felt a lot like it was Carey herself trying to unapologetically validate the “love as though wilt” principle and the licentious behaviour of her D’Angeline people. As if Carey had suffered criticism from some right wing Christian group and needed to vent her frustrations within the story. Later, when Moirin travels to Bhodistan, Carey’s disguised opinion piece moves to the condemnation of the caste system and the Untouchables of India.
I would have liked to avoid comparing Moirin to her predecessor, Phèdre no Delauney, but Moirin does it often enough herself. Moirin also spent a lot of time reiterating events from past books. In her travels, she frequently is asked to tell her story from Namaah’s Kiss, so if you haven’t read that one, you almost don’t need to. But she also goes into a lot of detail about certain events that took place during Imriel de la Courcel, who had his own trilogy in Carey’s Terre D’Ange series. Everything is raised within context, but I found the repetition tedious.
There is a heavy reliance on magic. Originally, the gods’ involvement in the world was clear, but not as heavy handed as it has been with Moirin. All of her decisions are based on the commands of her diadh-anam and plans rely on her ability to “summon the twilight” or make use of her many other abilities. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it is something that has struck me since the Imriel Trilogy, becoming almost the entire focus in Moirin’s Trilogy. The theme is that the gods use their chosen hard, as established with Phèdre but Phèdre made choices that in some cases, meant defying the gods. I don't expect Moirin to be Phèdre but I grew disappointed in the way Moirin seemed to be the sum of her god-chosen status, without actually making decisions herself or really even questioning her destiny.
I was disappointed that we really don’t get to spend enough time with Bao and Moirin being together, though I know that was a necessary part of the story of Moirin’s love traversing all obstacles to be with him. I guess that just means I’ll have to read the third book in Moirin’s Trilogy to get my satisfaction!
My final complaint goes to the narrator, Anne Flosnik. I was not fond of her slow speech and the voices she affects for the characters other than Moirin, who tells the story. I particularly did not enjoy the drawn out, hoarsely whispered voice she uses for Bao. It did not match my image of Bao (as portrayed by Godfrey Gao in my head) at all. Not to mention that Flosnik pronounced all the words I’ve been reading for the past seven books entirely *wrong*, of course. Otherwise, the narration was tolerable, but I will definitely be reading the next book myself.
Despite all the complaining, I actually did like the book. It dragged a bit more than I felt was necessary, mainly because of some of the issues I addressed above, but it was still enjoyable. The characters are all as richly defined as I've come to expect from Carey, and I care about them enough to find out what happens next.
Leaving Chin behind, Moirin travels through many of the lands of Carey’s world, all of which are based on the real world. Carey seems to be making a point of covering the entire world in her books, with this one crossing Mongolia and India and the next book completing the world tour with the west.
This is, first and foremost, a love story that speaks to the lengths Moirin will go to for those she loves. To be clear, Moirin loves just about everyone. She remains committed to Bao, but Moirin falls in love with the inner beauty and positive traits of many of the people she meets on her journey. As a child of Namaah, Moirin is heavily influenced by desire and believes in the D’Angeline consensual tenet of “Love as thou wilt.”
Through the Alban side of her heritage, Moirin is also a child of the bear goddess, the Maghuin Dhonn. The gifts from these goddesses are manifest in Moirin and this brings her to the attention of a particular Yeshuan Rebbe intent on cleansing her of all those sins and lead her and other sinners to salvation. When this occurs about a quarter of the way into the book, it got my back up. In the second book of Carey’s adventures in Terre D’Ange, readers are introduced to the Habiru, worshippers of Yeshua and the One God. Due to my Christian upbringing, I tend to balk when I have to deal with the religious beliefs I rebelled against in my youth (unexpectedly) showing up in my entertainment and taking a very prominent role. It’s clear that the cultures and religions in this series are all based on actual cultures and religions and it is very easy to identify them all, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to me to find the Christian god’s involvement – especially since the gods of Terre D’Ange are birthed from that very faith. My prejudice usually isn’t enough to make me turn away, and I appreciated the way Kushiel’s Chosen presented it as something more for its main character, Phèdre, to learn and comprehend in order to achieve her goals. In fact, as the books progress and more cultures and religions earn some focus, Carey does so with great care and respect through her characters. But, unlike the previous adventures with Yeshua where I could get over my religious prejudice because the telling was never delivered with preachiness or condemnation, Moirin’s introduction to the Habiru, it is nothing but preachy and condemning.
As Moirin tries to justify her religious beliefs and subsequent actions to her captors, it felt a lot like it was Carey herself trying to unapologetically validate the “love as though wilt” principle and the licentious behaviour of her D’Angeline people. As if Carey had suffered criticism from some right wing Christian group and needed to vent her frustrations within the story. Later, when Moirin travels to Bhodistan, Carey’s disguised opinion piece moves to the condemnation of the caste system and the Untouchables of India.
I would have liked to avoid comparing Moirin to her predecessor, Phèdre no Delauney, but Moirin does it often enough herself. Moirin also spent a lot of time reiterating events from past books. In her travels, she frequently is asked to tell her story from Namaah’s Kiss, so if you haven’t read that one, you almost don’t need to. But she also goes into a lot of detail about certain events that took place during Imriel de la Courcel, who had his own trilogy in Carey’s Terre D’Ange series. Everything is raised within context, but I found the repetition tedious.
There is a heavy reliance on magic. Originally, the gods’ involvement in the world was clear, but not as heavy handed as it has been with Moirin. All of her decisions are based on the commands of her diadh-anam and plans rely on her ability to “summon the twilight” or make use of her many other abilities. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it is something that has struck me since the Imriel Trilogy, becoming almost the entire focus in Moirin’s Trilogy. The theme is that the gods use their chosen hard, as established with Phèdre but Phèdre made choices that in some cases, meant defying the gods. I don't expect Moirin to be Phèdre but I grew disappointed in the way Moirin seemed to be the sum of her god-chosen status, without actually making decisions herself or really even questioning her destiny.
I was disappointed that we really don’t get to spend enough time with Bao and Moirin being together, though I know that was a necessary part of the story of Moirin’s love traversing all obstacles to be with him. I guess that just means I’ll have to read the third book in Moirin’s Trilogy to get my satisfaction!
My final complaint goes to the narrator, Anne Flosnik. I was not fond of her slow speech and the voices she affects for the characters other than Moirin, who tells the story. I particularly did not enjoy the drawn out, hoarsely whispered voice she uses for Bao. It did not match my image of Bao (as portrayed by Godfrey Gao in my head) at all. Not to mention that Flosnik pronounced all the words I’ve been reading for the past seven books entirely *wrong*, of course. Otherwise, the narration was tolerable, but I will definitely be reading the next book myself.
Despite all the complaining, I actually did like the book. It dragged a bit more than I felt was necessary, mainly because of some of the issues I addressed above, but it was still enjoyable. The characters are all as richly defined as I've come to expect from Carey, and I care about them enough to find out what happens next.
I’ve never read a more beautiful, terrifying story.
If you know me, you know that a basically Pagan Celtic protagonist driven by her soul’s passion to form meaningful connections with people is…well, me. Reading characters that so closely mirror ourselves can be an interesting exercise. You learn a lot about yourself.
In reading this book—which is now my #2 favorite book of all time (second only to The Amber Spyglass—I learned so much about myself through the emotions that the story woke in me.
Moirin has an untouched innocence. She can be naive at times, sure, but I’m speaking more of the purity of someone born from Nature, unspoiled by civilization. Her heart has no bounds, and her travels lead her to make meaningful connections again and again and again. It’s lovely.
This volume in the trilogy takes us to the northern fields above Ch’in, and then west to Vralia, where a religion parallel to reality’s Christianity is on the rise. Then we travel all the way south to Bhodistan, which represents India.
The events in Vralia hit home for me. There’s a particular brand of horror out there for everyone—one thing that you are soul-deep afraid of, more than anything else. This portion of the book plucked that chord for me. I won’t give away the exact circumstances, but what Moirin faces there was so terrifying to me that I seriously considered putting down the book despite the gorgeous writing quality and how much I love the characters. I’ll say only that my religion is sacred to me, and I had to question whether I would possess the same strength as Moirin, or whether I would break under those circumstances. It’s a valuable thing, coming up against your true limits and finding out what’s on the other side. I did it with my pregnancy. I hope I would come out whole on the other side of what Moirin goes through in this section.
Then, offered almost as a balm for the terror-filled ache caused by the preceding events, Moirin’s time in Bhodistan is so moving and beautiful that I cried happy tears. She meets wonderful characters, and Carey proves yet again how strong and resilient her characters can be.
Ideally we would live in a world where strong, complex female characters were flooding the market. Since that isn’t quite the case, I’ll say that Carey’s fiction is a welcome respite from the harsh realities of a world where the political landscape makes you feel less than lucky to have been born a woman. Carey’s heroines are everything a young girl would want to aspire to, and her heroes are representations of truly equal men who aren’t threatened by powerful women, but seek to support them. The pairings in these novels are beautiful, and each partner seeks to complement the other. True equality, as it is meant to be lived.
This trilogy touches my heart and soul. Every bit of it resonates with me. I would recommend it most highly to anyone who wants to get to know me better, and aside from that any fans of Carey’s writing will love these. Fans of speculative fiction flavored with mythology and alternate history would enjoy these immensely, and anyone looking for female role models should definitely read them.
This and other reviews by me can be found at www.annaimber.com
If you know me, you know that a basically Pagan Celtic protagonist driven by her soul’s passion to form meaningful connections with people is…well, me. Reading characters that so closely mirror ourselves can be an interesting exercise. You learn a lot about yourself.
In reading this book—which is now my #2 favorite book of all time (second only to The Amber Spyglass—I learned so much about myself through the emotions that the story woke in me.
Moirin has an untouched innocence. She can be naive at times, sure, but I’m speaking more of the purity of someone born from Nature, unspoiled by civilization. Her heart has no bounds, and her travels lead her to make meaningful connections again and again and again. It’s lovely.
This volume in the trilogy takes us to the northern fields above Ch’in, and then west to Vralia, where a religion parallel to reality’s Christianity is on the rise. Then we travel all the way south to Bhodistan, which represents India.
The events in Vralia hit home for me. There’s a particular brand of horror out there for everyone—one thing that you are soul-deep afraid of, more than anything else. This portion of the book plucked that chord for me. I won’t give away the exact circumstances, but what Moirin faces there was so terrifying to me that I seriously considered putting down the book despite the gorgeous writing quality and how much I love the characters. I’ll say only that my religion is sacred to me, and I had to question whether I would possess the same strength as Moirin, or whether I would break under those circumstances. It’s a valuable thing, coming up against your true limits and finding out what’s on the other side. I did it with my pregnancy. I hope I would come out whole on the other side of what Moirin goes through in this section.
Then, offered almost as a balm for the terror-filled ache caused by the preceding events, Moirin’s time in Bhodistan is so moving and beautiful that I cried happy tears. She meets wonderful characters, and Carey proves yet again how strong and resilient her characters can be.
Ideally we would live in a world where strong, complex female characters were flooding the market. Since that isn’t quite the case, I’ll say that Carey’s fiction is a welcome respite from the harsh realities of a world where the political landscape makes you feel less than lucky to have been born a woman. Carey’s heroines are everything a young girl would want to aspire to, and her heroes are representations of truly equal men who aren’t threatened by powerful women, but seek to support them. The pairings in these novels are beautiful, and each partner seeks to complement the other. True equality, as it is meant to be lived.
This trilogy touches my heart and soul. Every bit of it resonates with me. I would recommend it most highly to anyone who wants to get to know me better, and aside from that any fans of Carey’s writing will love these. Fans of speculative fiction flavored with mythology and alternate history would enjoy these immensely, and anyone looking for female role models should definitely read them.
This and other reviews by me can be found at www.annaimber.com
Props to Carey for creating two compelling characters that are very different from Phedre and Joscelin, but aren't just opposites. Moirin and Bao have their own unique personalities, their own unique relationship - and they each have a great sense of humor, which is something I'd never expected from Carey.
i guess that when you get the hint your otp is not at all meant to be ~endgame~ and will bring you sadness you should STOP SHIPPING IT!!!!!!! you should even more stop when one of them dies.....
and yet
AND YET YOU HAVEN'T STOPPED AND YOU'RE EVEN MORE SAD WHEN THERE'S GHOST DREAM SEX OR WHATEVER DON'T DO THIS TO ME
ON THE OTHER HAND i feel like i loved this on a 5 stars level but SOME THINGS CANNOT BE FORGIVEN !!!!!!!
and yet
AND YET YOU HAVEN'T STOPPED AND YOU'RE EVEN MORE SAD WHEN THERE'S GHOST DREAM SEX OR WHATEVER DON'T DO THIS TO ME
ON THE OTHER HAND i feel like i loved this on a 5 stars level but SOME THINGS CANNOT BE FORGIVEN !!!!!!!