one_womanarmy's reviews
242 reviews

Service Model by Adrian Tchaikovsky

funny lighthearted medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? Yes
• Loveable characters? Yes
• Diverse cast of characters? No
• Flaws of characters a main focus? No

4.25

The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera

dark emotional mysterious medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? It's complicated
• Loveable characters? Yes
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

The Saint of Bright Doors is a vivid and ambitious debut novel. Chandrasekera's prose is elegant and evocative, immersing the reader in a fantasy world brimming with mystery, magic, and political intrigue. The reimagined Sri Lanka serves as a fascinating backdrop, where the author deftly explores the scars of colonialism and its connection to cultural and personal experiences of fascist uprisings, religious fundamentalism, and state-sanctioned violence.

While Saints is undoubtedly impressive for a first novel, it does have some shortcomings. A few awkward transitions, dangling plot threads, and a lack of emotional depth in the main character detract from the overall impact. (I remember feeling this way when I went back and read N.K. Jemison's first novel - comparing it to her later work was fascinating, aka seeing an author refine her craft after a brilliant but indulgent beginning). The author's penchant for esoteric language, while showcasing his vocabulary, occasionally feels like a distraction. As Fetter himself reflects, "Sometimes I think language is a cage, a thing that traps us between its bars." This sentiment could be applied to the novel itself, where the ornate language sometimes obscures the narrative's emotional core.

The Saint of Bright Doors is more than a little tricky to summarise. The novel subverts the traditional hero's journey, reimagining the story of the Buddha from the perspective of his abandoned son, Fetter. Raised by his vengeful mother, Fetter is destined to kill his father, "The Perfect and Kind," who achieves enlightenment by stealing magic from his mother. "Change only comes through directed violence," his mother insists, setting the stage for Fetter's struggle against the expectations imposed by his parents and society, a boy raised with expectations of great achievement and great destruction held in each clenched fist.

Fetter's journey is one of self-discovery and rebellion against the various "prisons" he encounters, both physical and metaphorical. He finds solace in the surreal city of Luriat, a place that "shouldn't exist" according to the story's magical lore. Luriat, with its vibrant chaos and enigmatic "bright doors," serves as a powerful metaphor for the rapid cultural shifts of the digital age, particularly the toxic but confusing civil wars that can open up on Tiktok or Twitter in the blink of an eye. If you've ever stepped away from social media for a short time, and come back to find a maze of self-referencing drama or memes that feels impossible to gain context for, you too will enjoy the metaphor of Fetter's experience in Luriat as one of feeling constantly left out of larger patterns he cannot see or fully grasp. Chandrasekera masterfully uses the setting as a character in itself. The setting is intentionally confusing, and it’s wonderful. Luriat is a vibrant megalopolis, which refuses to be pinned down. It is rich, warm, and vibrant in a way that made me feel like I was experiencing the story in the hot sun of a south asian afternoon. 

Luriat's ever-shifting landscape mirrors Fetter's internal struggle with identity, as he grapples with his queerness, his biracial heritage, his friends' desires for revolution and his own apathy at being pulled towards yet another "path", and the weight of his parents' legacies. The novel explores complex themes of fascism, intergenerational trauma, and the difficulty of individual choice in the face of societal pressure.

Fetter's imprisonment in a bureaucratic, Kafkaesque hell is a particularly compelling sequence. It highlights the absurdity of a system that punishes without explanation, reflecting the Buddhist concept of samsara, the endless cycle of suffering. Even after Fetter escapes prison, he’s not truly escaped; the vicissitudes of samsara follow him back to Luriat. This realization ultimately fuels Fetter's rebellion against his father and the oppressive forces that control Luriat, simultaneously freeing Fetter from his destiny and fulfilling it at the same time.

The novel's exploration of opposing philosophies through Fetter's parents adds depth to his character arc. He ultimately learns to balance his mother's fiery activism with his father's contemplative nature, forging his own path. This internal struggle is further enriched by the novel's exploration of queerness, colonialism, and the complexities of identity in a fractured world.

"The Saint of Bright Doors" is a dazzling and thought-provoking novel that defies easy categorization. While not always an easy read, it is a rewarding one, offering a unique and unforgettable exploration of identity, freedom, and the struggle against oppression.

The Mercy of Gods by James S.A. Corey

adventurous challenging dark mysterious fast-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? Yes

5.0

The Mercy of Gods is a modern spin on the classic invasion tale popular in the early 80s. The humans on the planet Anjiin are the latest victims to fall under the eye of the hegemonic hivemind empire of the Carryx, whose ontological maxim "What is, is" provides a literary echo of the self-referencing conservative dialogue on the rise in the U.S., Europe, and South America, leading it to parallel modern questions of whether biology and might can, or will, trump equality, justice, and creative diversity on a grand, interstellar scale.

Having previously enjoyed author James A. Corey's coextensive cultural-to-personal literary style, I had high hopes that were delivered for Gods.  Our protagonists - a group of elite bioscientists and astrophysicists play out the universal pendulum swing from biological imperative to quiet triumph in polyamorous entanglements, self-referencing questions of what the "self" really is as it pertains to physiological colonialism, sociological adaptation, and the ever-present analogy between deep-space colonialism and interpersonal epigenetics.  While The Expanse had a blockbuster action-flick nature to its fast-paced high-octane writing and push-forward plot pacing, Gods opts for a much slower burn, focusing on setting up the world, with minimal plot beats, and focusing much of its time creating more emotional heft than bombastic action sequences.

As the story unfolds, Gods challenges us to peer past the main story line and observe that while conquering tyrants may assume their position of control is confirmed through explicit displays of power and control, there is an equal force from the quiet, observing, and socially-constructing among us. They lie in wait with just as powerful a force on the dynamics of those same cultures, communities, and people. 

The Mercy of Gods has a unique spin on the classic invasion trope because though the Carryx are shown to be vastly superior to humankind and the other species they have captured, they treat their enslaved races with a kind of mundane indifference, painting the setting with dread very few stories of this kind capture well. In this regard, Gods is a world-building-driven story rather than a character-driven or plot-driven narrative.

After a slow and somewhat nostaligic take-off rift with the petty inner working of academia and upper class politicking, the reader is blasted off along side the postcolonial population who survive the initial invasion. The Mercy of Gods is firmly medium-length for contemporary SFF, but it lingers longer than one might expect on life before the arrival of the Carryx, introducing the main cast and diving into the fraught academic politics that aren’t entirely put to the side when the aliens arrive. This opening segment is well-written, but it does demand some patience from the reader, as the shape of the central conflict doesn’t begin to come clear until well into the story. Personally, I enjoy this long-arc story building reminiscent of Dune, Hyperion, and Memory Called Empire. 

When that conflict does come clear, it’s a book that’s hard to put down—one that tells an engrossing story in the short term while putting the pieces in place for the larger series.  Dafyd Alkhor, quiet nepotistic research assistant, Tonner Freis, emotionally immature and scientifically brilliant team lead, love-triangle foil Else Yannin, and Jessyn Kaul, bipolar and chronically depressed researcher, form a compact with others who dramatize and love together as they are tasked with becoming "useful" to their enslavers, the Carryx. As the main characters are absorbed into the alien empire, after an eighth of the Anjiin population is wiped out merely as a show of dominance of the Carryx, snd surviving means rising to enormous professional challenges while dealing both with various psychological distresses and with other competitors trying just as strenuously to prove themselves. The long, slow start paid dividends for me, as I could see how small power struggles mirror the grand actors and patterns of empires, cultures, and history. 

The story does well developing a genuinely strange alien perspective. I wouldn’t call it unfathomable from a human perspective—in fact, I couldn’t help but find the Carryx deeply Nietzschean—but it’s both cohesive enough that it feels like a plausible way of living and unusual enough that the human characters struggle immensely to piece it together. And so the Carryx provide depth to the worldbuilding while also setting up plenty of plot-related excitement. 

I am excited to see where this series takes us.  Downsides to the narration include token politicizing of women's bodies in a way men are not asked to bear. Else and Jessyn are consistently shown to be grappling with what is happening inside of their bodies, while male Dafyd and Tonner deal with issues of intellect, social capacity, and science.  On paper, all characters deal with important issues, but it was a disappointing choice to so clearly gender these experiences.

A Prayer for the Crown-Shy by Becky Chambers

lighthearted slow-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? No
• Loveable characters? No
• Diverse cast of characters? No
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.0

Stepping back into the world of Panga with part-two of the Monk & Robot Series, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy felt like slipping into a warm bath. Becky Chambers once again delivers a comforting and easy read, continuing the journey of Sibling Dex and Mosscap, the robot who ventured out from the wilderness in "A Psalm for the Wild Built." While this second installment retains the series' signature warmth and gentle tone, I found it didn't quite reach the same soft spot in my heart as its predecessor, A Psalm for the Wild Built.

Crown-Shy follows Dex and Mosscap as they continue their travels across Panga, exploring different communities and engaging in thoughtful conversations about life, society, and the meaning of existence. Their journey is filled with charming encounters and heartwarming moments, much like their initial adventures. The prose remains accessible and inviting, making it a perfect book to curl up with on a rainy afternoon.

However, where Psalm felt fresh and insightful in its exploration of purpose and societal expectations, Crown-Shy treads too-familiar ground. The themes of self-discovery, finding meaning in a world obsessed with productivity, and the importance of connection are revisited, but with less impact. While Dex continues to grapple with their place in the world, their internal struggles lack the same urgency and depth as in the first book.

The novel's lighthearted tone, while comforting, sometimes borders on simplistic. As Dex observes at one point, "Sometimes I feel like I'm just wandering around, hoping to stumble onto something meaningful." This sentiment unfortunately reflects my own experience with the book.

Mosscap's innocent curiosity and insightful observations continue to charm, and their interactions with Dex remain a highlight of the story. Lines like, "Is it okay to not know what you're doing with your life?" and "Being lost is how you figure out where you are" resonate with a gentle truth that speaks to the anxieties of finding one's way in the world.

Ultimately, Crown-Shy feels like a pleasant but unnecessary addition to the series. While it provides a comforting return to the world of Panga and its endearing characters, it doesn't add much to the themes already explored in Psalm. If you're looking for a light and heartwarming read, this might satisfy your craving. However, if you're hoping for the same level of depth and insight as the first book or exploring something new, you might find yourself a little disappointed.

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers

hopeful inspiring lighthearted slow-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? No
• Loveable characters? Yes
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.25

Becky Chambers' A Psalm for the Wild Built is a gentle exploration of self-discovery and purpose in a world where robots have gained consciousness and retreated into the wilderness. While the novella's juvenile tone might not appeal to all readers, I found it's accessible prose and thoughtful themes made for an easy and comforting read that resonated at a time when I was grappling with questions of identity and societal expectations.

The story follows non-binary Sibling Dex, a tea monk who feels a nagging sense of dissatisfaction with their life. Dex yearns for something more, a deeper connection with the world beyond the confines of their structured existence. This yearning mirrors the anxieties of so many of us living under capitalism, post-pandemic upheaval, and the tyranny of expectations for productivity, who feel pressured to follow a prescribed path to success and fulfillment. As Dex confesses, "I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I wanted to help people. And I do. But... it's not enough." This sentiment echoes the growing discontent with a capitalist system that often prioritizes productivity over personal well-being, including in non-profit and social justice careers.

The arrival of Mosscap, a robot who ventures out from the wilderness seeking to understand humans, throws Dex's world into disarray. Mosscap's inquisitive nature and childlike wonder challenge Dex's assumptions about the world and their place in it. Their interactions are filled with heartwarming moments of mutual discovery, as Dex grapples with Mosscap's simple yet profound questions about human existence. "What do humans do all day?" Mosscap asks, highlighting the absurdity of our relentless pursuit of productivity.

Chambers uses the robots as a metaphor for the development of AI in our own world. Just as the robots in the story gained consciousness and chose to separate from humans, we are facing the potential rise of sentient AI with its own desires and motivations. The novel raises important questions about our relationship with technology and the ethical implications of creating intelligent machines. As Mosscap observes, "We were built to serve, but what does it mean to serve when no one is asking for anything?" This statement prompts reflection on the potential consequences of unchecked technological advancement and the need for responsible AI development.

While the novel's simplistic language and idealistic worldview was  juvenile at times, it ultimately served to create a simple space for exploring complex themes. The gentle pace and focus on introspection allowed me to connect with Dex's journey of self-discovery and find solace in the message of hope and interconnectedness.

A Psalm for the Wild Built is a reminder that true fulfillment lies not in constant productivity, but in finding meaning and connection in a world that often feels overwhelming. I recommend this as a beach read or a 'feel good and move fast' kind of read when you're looking to be prompted for some thought... but not too much. ;)

The Terraformers by Annalee Newitz
Did not finish book. Stopped at 11%.

I gave up and we got to the part where there were three different biosymbiotic drones and a moose named midnight in a lava tube.

Alien Clay by Adrian Tchaikovsky

challenging tense slow-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Plot
• Strong character development? No
• Loveable characters? No
• Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.75

Adrian Tchaikovsky's Alien Clay had all the hallmarks of his signature style: a unique premise, fascinating alien life, and a focus on the intricacies of societal structures. However, I admit, this one didn't quite hit the mark for me in the same way that "Children of Time" or "Shards of Earth" did. While the core concept was intriguing, I found the execution somewhat lacking, particularly in the world-building department.

Tchaikovsky drops us onto the prison planet of Kiln, a world shrouded in mystery and danger. The environment is meant to evoke a sense of fear and the unknown, but ultimately I struggled to truly grasp what it looked and felt like. Descriptions like, "The air shimmered with unseen threats, the very ground seeming to writhe with hidden life," felt vague and uninspired. I never quite got a clear picture of Kiln's unique ecology, which hindered my immersion in the story as it's "alien nature" is a main driving force of both plot and character development.

Where the novel shines is in its exploration of class struggle and the pursuit of truth as played out by the protagonist and their opposing, bureaucratic keeper.

The imprisoned workers, forced to mine Kiln's valuable resources, find themselves at odds with their jailers, the representatives of the tyrannical Mandate.

This dynamic mirrors the current political climate in America, with its stark divide between liberal and conservative ideologies.

The workers, much like those fighting for social justice and equality today, yearn for the truth, even when it's uncomfortable or challenges the existing power structures. They exhibit a strong sense of community and solidarity, echoing the "We're all in this together" mentality that fuels progressive movements. As one character declares, "We may be prisoners, but we are not slaves to their lies! We will find the truth, even if it breaks us."

Conversely, the ruling class clings to dogma and control, much like the conservative forces that resist change and prioritize maintaining the status quo. They suppress information, punish dissent, and attempt to force new knowledge into their pre-existing framework. This struggle for power and truth forms the emotional core of the novel and provides its most compelling moments.

One of the most fascinating aspects of Alien Clay is the way it explores the concept of collective consciousness.

The workers, through their interaction with Kiln's unique lifeforms, begin to merge into a single entity, sacrificing individual autonomy for a greater understanding of the world around them.

This transformation is both terrifying and exhilarating, raising questions about the nature of identity and the potential consequences of pursuing knowledge at all costs.

Despite its shortcomings in world-building overall I thought the novel offers a thought-provoking exploration of class struggle, the pursuit of truth, and the sacrifices we make in the face of the unknown. While not Tchaikovsky's strongest work, it still delivers a compelling narrative that resonates with our current sociopolitical climate. Not my first recommendation of his, but not a bad read.

Usurpation by Sue Burke

adventurous mysterious reflective tense slow-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? Yes
• Loveable characters? No
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? No

3.0

Sue Burke's Usurpation brings her "Semiosis" trilogy to a close. I pre-ordered this book I was so excited to read it after devouring the first two back to back.  The final book was a bit weaker than those two. I confess I found myself longing for the grandeur and sweeping scope of the first book, Semiosis. Where that initial foray into the world of Pax delivered a captivating exploration of human-plant coevolution on an epic scale, Usurpation felt a bit bogged down in the minutiae.

Don't get me wrong, Burke's talent for crafting believable alien ecologies remains undeniable. The sentient plants of Pax are as fascinating as ever, with their intricate communication networks and complex social dynamics. But in this final installment, I found myself yearning for a bit less botanical bickering and a bit more of the grand evolutionary leaps that made Semiosis so compelling.

The narrative picks up centuries after the events of book two - Interference - with the humans on Earth having now had long-term exposure to the alien Stevland's sentient plant offspring, but failing to make the same symbiosis flourish as in the previous two books. We're introduced to a new cast of characters - but a bit too fast - throughout several additional centuries, each grappling with the challenges of navigating this unique symbiosis, or the perceived lack thereof. While the individual stories are engaging enough, they lack the collective momentum that propelled the earlier books.

One of the highlights of was its depiction of human history devolving alongside the plants' continued evolution. Burke masterfully portrays the gradual erosion of human knowledge and technology, as future Earth generations become increasingly reliant on the plants for survival. This regression is both fascinating and unsettling, serving as a stark reminder of humanity's fragility in the face of an ever-changing world. As one character laments, "We were once a people of starships and cities, now we are little more than caretakers in a garden." The plants become increasingly self-aware and able to manipulate, and care for, humans - their advancement seemed a parallel to artificial intelligence / A.I. fear and concerns we are grappling with as I read this at the end of 2024.

The novel also delivers some poignant reflections on the nature of consciousness and the meaning of intelligence. The plants, with their slow, deliberate way of thinking, offer a unique perspective on the human condition. As the Glasswort muses, "Humans are so quick to act, so eager to change the world around them. They rarely stop to consider the consequences of their actions." Burke's exploration of human-plant coevolution was still thought-provoking, even if the narrative occasionally gets lost in the weeds (pun intended). If you're a fan of the series, you'll undoubtedly find some things to appreciate in this final chapter, even if it doesn't quite leave you feeling as exhilarated as the first.

Exhalation by Ted Chiang

5.0

The Wild Girls by Ursula K. Le Guin

4.5