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illustrated_librarian's reviews
447 reviews
Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds and Shape Our Futures by Merlin Sheldrake
informative
inspiring
reflective
4.0
The Malleus Maleficarum by Heinrich Kramer
This won't be a typical review, because how do you review a primary source, especially one as infamous and influential as this? Instead I'll discuss this new translation, the accompanying introduction by Maxwell-Stuart, and how his careful setting of context allows us to understand this 'witch hunting manual' in a less hyperbolic light.
The Malleus Maleficarum — The Hammer of Witches— brings up some interesting issues around translation that have affected how we see the text. The standard English translation until recent years (other than being extremely flowery) had a tendency to feminise all references to witches, even when the original Latin implies male and female, or only male, workers of magic.
This paired with Institoris's, admittedly troubling, interest on witches' sexual congress with evil spirits and his advocation for torture to extract confession, has led to the Malleus being used to highlight extreme misogyny as a driving force behind witch-hunting. As Maxwell-Stuart points out, Institoris was sadly no more misogynist than was usual for the era he lived in, and his translation restores the intent of the original Latin.
It's also interesting that the more extreme content of the Malleus is at the end. Much of the work is actually dedicated to proving that Catholic orthodox doctrine supports a belief in witchcraft and its outcomes as real, and therefore the punishment of witches should be accordingly severe. This is because there was great debate about the reality of witchcraft in the 1400s, and Institoris saw his superiors as unwilling to fight this existential threat to Christendom harshly enough.
The Malleus is quite a strange, rambling text, with much repetition. Rather than a manual for woman-hating, I now see it as a scream of terror written by someone who saw a demonic threat at work and so advocated for brutal 'by any means necessary' measures to stamp it out. Some troubling parallels to our own times there, no?
Thank you @manchester_university_press for sending me this fascinating text!
The Malleus Maleficarum — The Hammer of Witches— brings up some interesting issues around translation that have affected how we see the text. The standard English translation until recent years (other than being extremely flowery) had a tendency to feminise all references to witches, even when the original Latin implies male and female, or only male, workers of magic.
This paired with Institoris's, admittedly troubling, interest on witches' sexual congress with evil spirits and his advocation for torture to extract confession, has led to the Malleus being used to highlight extreme misogyny as a driving force behind witch-hunting. As Maxwell-Stuart points out, Institoris was sadly no more misogynist than was usual for the era he lived in, and his translation restores the intent of the original Latin.
It's also interesting that the more extreme content of the Malleus is at the end. Much of the work is actually dedicated to proving that Catholic orthodox doctrine supports a belief in witchcraft and its outcomes as real, and therefore the punishment of witches should be accordingly severe. This is because there was great debate about the reality of witchcraft in the 1400s, and Institoris saw his superiors as unwilling to fight this existential threat to Christendom harshly enough.
The Malleus is quite a strange, rambling text, with much repetition. Rather than a manual for woman-hating, I now see it as a scream of terror written by someone who saw a demonic threat at work and so advocated for brutal 'by any means necessary' measures to stamp it out. Some troubling parallels to our own times there, no?
Thank you @manchester_university_press for sending me this fascinating text!
Private Rites by Julia Armfield
dark
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
The world is ending, the rain won't stop and the water is rising inexorably higher. Daily life attempts to drag onward in a drowning city as people make do. Sisters Isla, Irene, and Agnes are no different - end times don't get you out of navigating grief or pointless jobs or fraught sibling relationships, after all.
This one came to me at a strange time, resonating uncannily in several ways that made me glad I didn't pick it up during the wave of release hype but waited until the mood struck me. I also dove in not having read the blurb recently, and I think that's the best way.
Private Rites feels a little less focussed than Our Wives, more diffuse and blurry at the boundaries, but for a novel about watery dissolution I can't entirely hold that against it. I've read a few fictional predictions of where our insistence on ignoring climate breakdown leads and this felt the most real for being decidedly mundane - past, present, and future collapsed into a single point: the dull, neverending end, humanity straggling on as meaningless sirens sound, infrastructure collapses, and everyone continues going to work for some reason.
Armfield writes in such a butterfly-pinning way about the nuances of sisterhood, of womanhood, of the times we live in, that it was relatable to the point of pain. Her characters express nihilistic belief that there's no point in growing, in trying or hoping for anything at the end of the world and this runs parallel to the stifling nature of familial bonds; their uncanny ability to freeze a specific version of you in time like an insect in amber, a version you can spend your life fighting against or accept and regress into that role in their company.
For all that I loved the complex, contradictory sisterly relationships, this felt unbalanced to me overall. It gets a little soggy in the middle, bogged down in petty conflict and too light on the eerie. But it rallies at the end, bringing through a strand of uncanniness and leaving behind that soft, mournful feeling I now associate so strongly with Armfield's work. Blood is, she seems to say, just about thicker than water.
This one came to me at a strange time, resonating uncannily in several ways that made me glad I didn't pick it up during the wave of release hype but waited until the mood struck me. I also dove in not having read the blurb recently, and I think that's the best way.
Private Rites feels a little less focussed than Our Wives, more diffuse and blurry at the boundaries, but for a novel about watery dissolution I can't entirely hold that against it. I've read a few fictional predictions of where our insistence on ignoring climate breakdown leads and this felt the most real for being decidedly mundane - past, present, and future collapsed into a single point: the dull, neverending end, humanity straggling on as meaningless sirens sound, infrastructure collapses, and everyone continues going to work for some reason.
Armfield writes in such a butterfly-pinning way about the nuances of sisterhood, of womanhood, of the times we live in, that it was relatable to the point of pain. Her characters express nihilistic belief that there's no point in growing, in trying or hoping for anything at the end of the world and this runs parallel to the stifling nature of familial bonds; their uncanny ability to freeze a specific version of you in time like an insect in amber, a version you can spend your life fighting against or accept and regress into that role in their company.
For all that I loved the complex, contradictory sisterly relationships, this felt unbalanced to me overall. It gets a little soggy in the middle, bogged down in petty conflict and too light on the eerie. But it rallies at the end, bringing through a strand of uncanniness and leaving behind that soft, mournful feeling I now associate so strongly with Armfield's work. Blood is, she seems to say, just about thicker than water.
Saturnalia by Stephanie Feldman
dark
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
Jackal by Erin E. Adams
dark
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
Welcome to Johnstown, Pennsylvania. If you see something... no you didn't.
As a Black woman, Liz Rocher doesn't have the fondest memories of her predominantly white hometown, but she's reluctantly returning for her best friend's wedding. On the day of the wedding the couple's daughter Caroline disappears into the woods. A frantic search ensues, but Liz sees a pattern: a summer night, a Black girl murdered. Her hometown is hiding something, and Liz isn't letting it stay in the shadows any longer.
Adams blends detective thriller and horror elements with social commentary on violence against Black women in America. A series of young Black women have gone missing in the woods over the years and yet the town always manages to dismiss it: the girls are characterised as runaways, unruly kids who died of animal attacks, exposure, or some other freak accident.
Liz has grown up hearing folktales of the 'man and his shadow' lurking in the woods. If you hear something call your name in the night or you think you see something? Keep your head down. Pay it no mind.
She sees a connection between the evil in the woods and the missing girls, but who can she trust? Who will believe her? Adams ratchets up the tension by highlighting the disparity Black women face being believed, being looked for, being safe in the very places they call home. She fills Johnstown with believable, human characters each suspicious in their own way so Liz is always destabilised, second-guessing herself until the last.
What stopped this being a five star for me was the choppy, short sentences Adams favours paired with the tendency for jumping from topic to topic quickly within one paragraph. Though I recognise this was mimicking Liz's stressed, flighty thoughts, it broke the immersion for me and could be hard to follow. But the pages do fly by, and Adams makes sure you're on the edge of your seat.
This is a story about monsters, the supernatural and the shockingly mundane. It's about how violence can be explosive but also insidious: neglecting a neighbourhood, turning a blind eye, keeping quiet to keep your white self comfortable above all else.
As a Black woman, Liz Rocher doesn't have the fondest memories of her predominantly white hometown, but she's reluctantly returning for her best friend's wedding. On the day of the wedding the couple's daughter Caroline disappears into the woods. A frantic search ensues, but Liz sees a pattern: a summer night, a Black girl murdered. Her hometown is hiding something, and Liz isn't letting it stay in the shadows any longer.
Adams blends detective thriller and horror elements with social commentary on violence against Black women in America. A series of young Black women have gone missing in the woods over the years and yet the town always manages to dismiss it: the girls are characterised as runaways, unruly kids who died of animal attacks, exposure, or some other freak accident.
Liz has grown up hearing folktales of the 'man and his shadow' lurking in the woods. If you hear something call your name in the night or you think you see something? Keep your head down. Pay it no mind.
She sees a connection between the evil in the woods and the missing girls, but who can she trust? Who will believe her? Adams ratchets up the tension by highlighting the disparity Black women face being believed, being looked for, being safe in the very places they call home. She fills Johnstown with believable, human characters each suspicious in their own way so Liz is always destabilised, second-guessing herself until the last.
What stopped this being a five star for me was the choppy, short sentences Adams favours paired with the tendency for jumping from topic to topic quickly within one paragraph. Though I recognise this was mimicking Liz's stressed, flighty thoughts, it broke the immersion for me and could be hard to follow. But the pages do fly by, and Adams makes sure you're on the edge of your seat.
This is a story about monsters, the supernatural and the shockingly mundane. It's about how violence can be explosive but also insidious: neglecting a neighbourhood, turning a blind eye, keeping quiet to keep your white self comfortable above all else.
An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon
dark
emotional
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
'History wanted to be remembered. Evidence hated having to live in the dark, hidden places and devoted itself to resurfacing. Truth was messy. The natural order of an entropic universe was to tend toward it.'
Aster lives in the lowdeck slums of the Matilda, a huge spaceship ferrying the last of humanity to a fabled Promised Land. Organised much like the antebellum South, harsh moral restrictions and indignities are imposed on dark-skinned inhabitants like her. But when Aster stumbles upon the secrets left to her by her mother, she realises the lowdeckers have to rise up.
Solomon pulls no punches when depicting the brutality that upholds the stratified social order of Matilda and yet also manages to bake resistance into every part of Aster's story. Though lowdeckers live in a society dependent on their labour but resentful of any joy they find, Aster and her friends have carved out rich, meaningful ways of living true to themselves that stand apart from the soulless ways of the upperdecks.
A major theme is how exhausting it is to be neurogivergent in a neurotypical society - Aster is autistic coded in a way that felt sensitive and was never played for laughs, rather it highlighted the senseless cruelty people turn on anything they don't understand. Queerness also proliferates, with tender conversations on gender identity, reflections on asexuality, and the many ways we can love happening at various points.
My one complaint is that a couple of areas lacked the detail Solomon otherwise amply provides. The end was a little hasty compared to the rest of the book, and Giselle, Aster's mercurial friend, felt underdeveloped and sometimes too convenient to the plot. These things aside, this is damn good, entertaining, thought-provoking sci-fi with a wonderful MC in Aster.
Aster's story is one of taking the work done by your forebearers and carrying that torch onwards, of resisting seemingly insurmountable oppression, and of building towards a better world even if you can't quite see how to make it yet. Holding these lessons close feels all the more important in the days and months ahead.
Aster lives in the lowdeck slums of the Matilda, a huge spaceship ferrying the last of humanity to a fabled Promised Land. Organised much like the antebellum South, harsh moral restrictions and indignities are imposed on dark-skinned inhabitants like her. But when Aster stumbles upon the secrets left to her by her mother, she realises the lowdeckers have to rise up.
Solomon pulls no punches when depicting the brutality that upholds the stratified social order of Matilda and yet also manages to bake resistance into every part of Aster's story. Though lowdeckers live in a society dependent on their labour but resentful of any joy they find, Aster and her friends have carved out rich, meaningful ways of living true to themselves that stand apart from the soulless ways of the upperdecks.
A major theme is how exhausting it is to be neurogivergent in a neurotypical society - Aster is autistic coded in a way that felt sensitive and was never played for laughs, rather it highlighted the senseless cruelty people turn on anything they don't understand. Queerness also proliferates, with tender conversations on gender identity, reflections on asexuality, and the many ways we can love happening at various points.
My one complaint is that a couple of areas lacked the detail Solomon otherwise amply provides. The end was a little hasty compared to the rest of the book, and Giselle, Aster's mercurial friend, felt underdeveloped and sometimes too convenient to the plot. These things aside, this is damn good, entertaining, thought-provoking sci-fi with a wonderful MC in Aster.
Aster's story is one of taking the work done by your forebearers and carrying that torch onwards, of resisting seemingly insurmountable oppression, and of building towards a better world even if you can't quite see how to make it yet. Holding these lessons close feels all the more important in the days and months ahead.
Starling House by Alix E. Harrow
mysterious
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.0
What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher
dark
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
3.5
Earlyfate by Nat Reeve
adventurous
funny
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Locked in a morgue, accused of a litany of crimes (only some of which they've committed), and with two local burglars out to settle a score with them - this isn't Pip Property's finest hour. To top it all off their lover, Welsh heiress Rosamund Nettleblack, has disappeared, and the chaotic vigilantes at the Dallyangle Division may be the only hope of finding her. But the Division already have a lot on their plate, and they've never seen eye to eye with Pip.
Charming, charming, charming! Earlyfate marks the return to the neo-Victorian world of Dallyangle, Surrey, peopled with the same melodramatic and endearing lot from Nettleblack, plus some new menaces. Told across journal entries, casebook notes, and phonograph recordings the mystery of a missing heiress plus some missing funding unfolds, but as with Nettleblack the real joy is in the characters.
I really enjoy how Reeve is able to lean into the silliness of this world without detracting from the tender character moments. A focus of the story is Pip breaking out from the confines of the character they've constructed for self-preservation and being able to ask for help, and find themselves worthy of that help even when they're not at their dandyish best. Their backstory and growth are sensitively told without losing any of the snarky humour that's the trademark of their voice.
The mystery element of the story felt more complex than in Nettleblack, and stronger for it. From sinister aristocrats to planted evidence, developments were threaded throughout the story to keep it interesting and unpredictable, but it never overwhelmed the time with characters. There's plenty of lighthearted Divisionary bumbling but they also pull together when it's really needed, forgive old wrongs, and see the best in (almost) everyone when it's most important. And this isn't really a spoiler, but Mordred the ferret makes a comeback.
Meddling aristocrats, feral ferrets, QUEER CHAOS. What more could you need?
Thank you @cipher_press for an early copy of this lovely book. Earlyfate is out 24th October!
Charming, charming, charming! Earlyfate marks the return to the neo-Victorian world of Dallyangle, Surrey, peopled with the same melodramatic and endearing lot from Nettleblack, plus some new menaces. Told across journal entries, casebook notes, and phonograph recordings the mystery of a missing heiress plus some missing funding unfolds, but as with Nettleblack the real joy is in the characters.
I really enjoy how Reeve is able to lean into the silliness of this world without detracting from the tender character moments. A focus of the story is Pip breaking out from the confines of the character they've constructed for self-preservation and being able to ask for help, and find themselves worthy of that help even when they're not at their dandyish best. Their backstory and growth are sensitively told without losing any of the snarky humour that's the trademark of their voice.
The mystery element of the story felt more complex than in Nettleblack, and stronger for it. From sinister aristocrats to planted evidence, developments were threaded throughout the story to keep it interesting and unpredictable, but it never overwhelmed the time with characters. There's plenty of lighthearted Divisionary bumbling but they also pull together when it's really needed, forgive old wrongs, and see the best in (almost) everyone when it's most important. And this isn't really a spoiler, but Mordred the ferret makes a comeback.
Meddling aristocrats, feral ferrets, QUEER CHAOS. What more could you need?
Thank you @cipher_press for an early copy of this lovely book. Earlyfate is out 24th October!