Tigana tells the story of a people, the Tiganisa (from the eponymous land of Tigana), living on a fictional peninsula called the Palm (loosely inspired by/based on Early Modern Italy and its city-states), whose identity, whose very name has been erased, by magic, after conquest by a tyrant sorcerer from somewhere... 'up North, in their world. Okay, not quite: what I described there is the setting and basic premise of Tigana.
Its actual plot centres on a set of characters who all, originally, come from conquered and "spiritually erased" Tigana, and who want to overthrow its tyrant in order to, at the very least, restore their cultural identity to broader awareness... because his spell literally makes it impossible for anyone but Tiganisa to hear and remember the name of their homeland. A few secondary characters hail from the eastern side of the Palm, which was, for its part, conquered by another tyrant sorcerer from... somewhere 'up North as well. They also want to bump him off.
I principally read this because my ex liked it and, to a lesser extent, because Mr Kay is known for 'beautifully written', historical-feeling fantasy. I thus figured I might as well sample his work, but alas... I did not care for it.
I didn't care about anything in this book – barring Dianora and her plot line, though I didn't much like its conclusion. I could tell Tigana wanted me to experience tragic, or more broadly grandiose feelings of cultural, and personal grief for one's identity, homeland, freedom, etc... yet none of it landed. It just felt like the book was trying too hard to tug at my heart strings... but, outside of a mild initial interest, and a mild interest in a supernatural element that was thrown in mid-plot (and wasn't ultimately made much of), all I really experienced was a feeling of boredom and disconnection.
The prose was fine, to good. Hell, I'll be nice and say I found it decently inspiring in a few places. The pacing, however, was uneven: there wasn't much narrative tension for most of the book then, all of a sudden, the story shifted into violent, armed conflict during the span of its last chapter. And, once again: none of it landed on an emotional level.
The world-building was... fine as well. Tigana read like pseudo-historical fiction in places; magic exists in novel's world, but it had no rules that I could glean. Demonic, zombie-like spirits popped up at one point, which piqued my interest like I already said, but nothing much was ultimately made of them so... whatever I guess. I liked the pagan-feeling theology, and theological imagery of the Palm, and that's about it.
As to the theming: I can sort of see, as through a glass darkly, what the author wanted to accomplish with Tigana (his own afterword also helped), with regards to discussing cultural identity, its disappearance, and the dilemma posed by a (nationalistic-adjacent?) desire to preserve it at all costs. Or, in terms of discussing the value of trans-national and/or trans-cultural co-operation in the fight against foreign oppression, and tyrannical rule. These are certainly interesting and weighty themes, but I don't think they were particularly well executed in Mr Kay's novel.
So yes, this was, unfortunately, a rather poor start to my reading year. I'll concede it's always possible the fact I listened to this on audiobook – and over the course of a trip to Ireland that had my attention firmly centred elsewhere (chiefly, on my boyfriend) – didn't help me to feel engaged with the story, in this case. But still... I stand by my appraisal of the material: it was mediocre overall.
PS: and yes, it is true that #MWSARP (Men Writing Sex And Romance Poorly 🤪) struck again with this one. A romance with absolutely no set-up whatsoever drops in the book's penultimate chapter (or thereabouts); a couple others also counted as instances of Instalove™ as well, blegh. And basically all of the sex scenes in Tigana felt contrived, to greater or lesser extents. To be clear: I was never offended, as such, by the book's sex scenes or female characterisation... but also, do keep in mind my bar for this is pretty low at this point, given some of the shit I've read (Lady have mercy on my soul...). 🫠
I picked Anachrony up because it was recommended by a friend, but I don't feel comfortable giving this a fixed rating given this clearly shouldn't be read outside of the context of the broader Timelessness series.
Still: I enjoyed the smoothness of the writing, and the multiple references to pagan mythologies have increased my interest in the main Timelessness series. My feelings are more reserved when it comes to the usage of time-travel/time loops, but that's because... I'm just always going to be wary of that at this point. Regardless, I'm more curious than not to see if and how it's used in the main series as well.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
Well that was a chonker! 🤭
I'm both glad and mildly disappointed to say I liked, but did not love, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. This faux-19th century novel about the friendship and rivalry between two English magicians, the broader revival of 'English magic' and Faerie shenanigans certainly had, yes, a lot of quiet charm. A decent serving of humour, as well, that I appreciated on the whole. And fully fleshed out, interesting characters and character relationships – I especially appreciated Jonathan Strange and his wife Arabella's.
The magic in Ms Clarke's novel is deeply enmeshed with faerie lore (undoubtedly pulled from real-world faerie folklore), as mentioned above, and I liked that... but it wasn't developed nearly enough for my taste, and ultimately felt underwhelming. The narrative itself, really, overall, felt underwhelming, because it lacked, for me, too much cohesion. JS&MN's story is made up of a few different narrative strands (Stephen's was definitely the most noteworthy for me), and they all, eventually, do come together, yes. But something just felt... missing? Uncommitted to? Emotionally under-delivering? I'm not entirely sure. What I'm sure of, however, is that I do not understand why this book was a thousand pages long. Don't get me wrong: I mostly enjoyed my journey through this book (which I both read and listened to), meandering as it was at times. But that length did not feel justified.
I liked the ending: it felt right, and more emotionally satisfying than not (with a moderately moving, bittersweet note). But it was also, and to reiterate, ultimately underwhelming, given the thousand-pages journey I took to reach it. I probably would've appreciated this novel a lot more had I a greater appreciation for 19th century literature, and weren't I so world-building and theming-driven as an SFF reader. 'Cause yeah, I didn't get much in terms of theming either, outside of (decent, but surface-level) commentary on classism, racism, and the historical, North-South divide in English society. I'm glad I read this one, and wouldn't not recommend it, but it's also unlikely – not impossible, but unlikely – I'll ever re-read it.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
Context: this is a book I principally read because my ex recommended it to me, and I must admit my appreciation of it is not insignificantly tied into the relationship I had with him. 🖤
Premise: as stated in its synopsis, Middlegame centres on a pair of artificially, alchemically created twins, named Dodger and Rodger, who are meant to incarnate fundamental principles of 'Creation' – following lore taken from the Western alchemical/esoteric tradition. This makes Middlegame what I'm going to call 'esoteric fantasy' but, whilst it is certainly pulled forward by its alchemical leitmotif, I'd argue it also qualifies as a platonic love story. And it is this latter aspect I enjoyed the most!
Thoughts: indeed, I was really moved by Dodger and Rodger's developing relationship: one full of friendship, and love, but not of the non-platonic/"romantic" kind. All the more so given Dodger and Roger also read as neurodivergent-coded to me – Dodger, the female of the pair, especially. Both are written as intellectually gifted, and yes, there is a world-building and narrative reason for this, that ties back to the books's central alchemical motif. But Dodger, specifically, clearly read as autistic-coded to me, and I strongly related to her struggles with people, alienation, loneliness, etc...
The author's skilful prose certainly helped to convey the delicate beauty of her character's feelings for one another, or the pain often experienced by those who are 'different'. I also generally enjoyed the quotes she chose as epigraphs for the different parts of her novel. Outside of the twins' 'love story', I can't say I got too much in terms of deeper theming, though what there was, centred on the consequences of playing god, the value of connection, or 'difference', and the necessary balance between complementary principles, wasn't bad by any means.
Finally, with regards to plot and world-building: both were intrinsically tied to Western alchemical lore and concepts in a way that felt very satisfying to this esotericism nerd. I don't think I'd ever really come across a novel dedicated to this specific branch of the Western esoteric tradition before, and it was pleasantly refreshing. Could more have been done with this? Absolutely, though I understand this is the first book in a trilogy, and perhaps this motif is developed more fully in books two and three – but I can't say I'll get to them anytime soon, if ever. Additionally, the story does play around with time loops and resets, but whilst I'm generally very wary of time-travel as a narrative device, I'm happy to say it was utilised skilfully enough in Middlegame.
I don't know that I will ever re-read this one, but it's not entirely off the table either. This means I would, yes, confidently recommend this book to readers interested in esoteric fantasy, or just real-world-set fantasy that feels a bit different, and/or readers looking for neurodivergent characters, and character relationships (of any kind), in their fantasy.
PS: it's kind of a neat coincidence I finished Middlegame right around the time I finished watching Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood with my boyfriend, given this (very good) anime also utilises a well-realised, central alchemical motif in its world-building and storytelling. 😊
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.75
Context: I picked up Earthlings because I thought it would centre on a neurodivergent MC, and feature fantastical elements of some sort. I was vaguely aware it would also feature traumatic experiences, and indeed it does: be warned there is a graphic depiction of child rape in this novel. And... other disturbing things.
Thoughts: and yeah... this wasn't at all what I expected. Earthlings essentially reads as general fiction (with caveats I'll get to shortly) about a girl, named Natsuki, who feels 'different' and alienated from her family (her cousin Yuu excepted), then broader society as she grows up. So much so, in fact, she believes herself to be a magician, and her hedgehog plushie to be an envoy from the planet Popinpobopia (try saying that three times fast, I dare 'ya). Natsuki, you quickly learn, suffers from verbal and physical abuse at the hands of her mother and sister, and eventually falls prey to other forms of abuse as well... only to wind up, as an adult, in a(n asexual) marriage of convenience with an equally alienated man.
It seems, to me, Earthlings' theming was largely 'meant' to centre on the (negative, or damaging) experience of 'difference', alienation, etc... especially in the face of a very constraining and normative society. The latter is referred to as 'The Factory' in the novel which, let me tell you, was incredibly subtle... not. Given the book's disturbing content (like I said, there was more than "just" CSA here), I've also seen people argue it features commentary about the pros and cons of violating social taboos as well, in relation to the previous theme.
Sure, I guess. But I, for one, didn't find any of it effective in the slightest. For starters, there's next-to-no actual character work done in Earthlings. Natsuki, her cousin Yuu, and her husband didn't feel like actual people to me, neurodivergent or otherwise. And no, as an fyi, I didn't read Natsuki as autistic-coded at all – yes I'm aware the author herself is in fact autistic but, as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter. There was CPTSD at play in Natsuki's case, sure. But beyond that... I don't know. If I had to slap a diagnostic label onto Earthlings' characters, I guess I'd go with something like schizotypy, maybe. Not that it matters all that much since, like I said, the novel's characters barely qualified as such to me.
The prose, for its part, felt very dry, purely utilitarian and I often wondered: "do people actually talk like this?". 🧐 This didn't exactly alleviate the feeling of "unreality" (for lack of a better term) I got from the book's 'characters, and their interactions with one another. This was, perhaps, a function of the book's translation into English, or perhaps this was by design. Either way, it made matters worse for me.
The fact is Earthlings felt like a "true tragedy" vignette someone lifted out of a magazine... and decided to pad out into a novel with a decidedly undetermined-feeling genre. It's as if the book didn't entirely know what it wanted to be: general fiction? Horror fiction? Magical realism... but not really? The shift in gears with regards to the story's more disturbing material and, without spoiling too much of anything, descent into violent psychosis, also contributed to a disagreeable feeling of tonal dissonance. I always hate it when I'm left wondering: what did I just read? What was the point here?
And, to reiterate, the theming I personally read into Earthlings, on alienation and societal oppression, was just laid on way too thick, and thus poorly executed. Additionally, given the book's, ahem, "a bit out there" ending, I retroactively felt like it mishandled the usage and representation of child sexual abuse and trauma, which is a bit... blegh, shall we say.
It's not like Earthlings was garbage, either... but since I didn't get anything out of it, I can't in good conscience rate it as anything above mediocre.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.25
Well that was... bizarre. Was it "bizarre" I enjoyed? I mean... kind of?
There's a plot, sure. You got a Library run by Father, librarians who used to be Americans, and weird events centred on all of that. But don't expect any handholding whatsoever.
There are characters, yes. And strange bits of world-building. Our MC is a librarian named Carolyn. She has adopted siblings. They all live with the aforementioned Father, who may or may not be fully human. And some wild animals. And reanimated dead folks. Father has allies and enemies, such as a 'Forest God' and 'Barry O'Shea' (some sort of deep sea monster). But don't expect much in the way of deeper character work, or deeper world-building.
Did it all amount to much in terms of theming or impactful storytelling? Uhm... no, not really. The world-building itself felt a bit absurd in places, which I guess is fine if the point, here, was 'vibes', so to speak. Otherwise? Yeah, fact is I didn't get much out of The Library at Mount Char beyond its 'weird aesthetic'. Which, don't get me wrong, was really well done; I was, in fact, vaguely reminded of Miévillian fiction at times (in terms of said aesthetics, not theming, to be very clear).
The story's stakes were, quite literally, cosmic, but didn't actually feel cosmic – I don't know how else to put it. The story featured a couple of intense action sequences, a pretty endearing human-lion relationship (that gets an automatic point), bits of character development tied to traumatic experiences... but none of those things ever really came together for me in a more meaningful or emotionally significant way. It all remained... rather disjointed. Which is a little disappointing given the otherwise neat world-building elements this novel unashamedly features.
I was also thrown off, somewhat, by the book's humorous notes... which only worsened the feeling of disjointedness I got from it. Was I... supposed to read The Library at Mount Char as some giant absurdist joke, given the Father/Library of God-like Knowledge motif of it all? 😅 I'm not sure. Which, again, may be part of the point I guess. Either way, it still felt wrong to me to just have a human being kinda become God like that. It just... rubbed me the wrong way. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Still, this was an interesting novel, without a doubt. Worth reading once, for my part. I'd tentatively recommend this one to fellow weird fiction enthusiasts, with the caveat that you shouldn't expect too much out of it in terms of deeper world-building, theming or even emotional impact. Think of it as 'entertainment-driven', rather than 'ideas-driven' weird fiction. 😉
PS: I'm not entirely sure how I feel about what ends up happening to Steve. He is transformed into the Sun without his consent, but is also left in a state of perpetual 'joy'... the latter feels like a good thing, but the former definitely feels wrong. 😅
This is partly due to the fact I clearly misunderstood what kind of book this was going to be when I picked it up. It's not really a work of 'theory' or feminist 'social science' stricto sensu; The Will to Change is, rather, an essay aimed towards men, and opening their minds to the benefits rejecting patriarchy (and what hooks terms 'patriarchal masculinity') would hold for them in terms of improved, loving relationships and, more generally, quality of life. On those merits alone, I think it's a decent book and probably deserving of a 7/10. But I expected something more, or at the very least something different.
There are genuinely good, to very good, kernels of insight in this essay, yes. Most of which I was already familiar with, but I appreciated, here, the way hooks skilfully, and succinctly expressed them. On the whole, her analysis of masculinity, disconnection and how these things impact relationships, and love, between men and women (or fathers and their sons, etc...) was good and well articulated.
But this really is a "pure essay". There are absolutely no citations, and no reference bibliography, in hooks' book, yet she makes a lot of sweeping generalisations, and grand claims that triggered my itch to cry: "Citation needed!". Some of her arguments were also just... bizarre. Or lacked too much nuance. The Will to Change also felt a bit all over-the-place at times, and incredibly repetitive. It really shouldn't have been as long as it was, especially given the lack of nuanced development too many of her statements suffered from.
It feels a bit too "self-helpy" in places – for my taste at any rate – as well. Several pop psychology writers are cited in-text (or at least, that's what I think they were), for one thing. For another, hooks uses a fair amount of spirituality, or religion-laden language. She talks about church, the souls of men, divine masculinity, etc... And it's not like I necessarily object to this on a purely personal level, as a non-atheist, but like... what has this got to do with challenging patriarchy, intrinsically? A lot of feminist women, and a lot of men, quite simply, are atheist, or just agnostic and this kind of language seems potentially off-putting, and thus largely counter-productive to me.
I was, additionally, thoroughly confused by the fact hooks seemed to conflate maleness with masculinity. She talks a lot about "patriarchal masculinity", and "feminist masculinity". But as a gender-critical feminist, masculinity (and femininity) are both inherently problematic to me, because they both inherently derive from patriarchy. There is no redeeming of gender, in my book. It was really weird that hooks both seemed to understand this, the inherent issues with gender, and embrace gender as an inherent, natural part of human nature. I suppose... I get it from an "appeal to male readers" perspective as, realistically, a lot of men won't want to reject masculinity wholesale (and the same can be said of women with femininity), but still.
Finally, there's a smidge of "fellow feminists-bashing", and minimising the harms of gendered socialisation for girls, that left a really bad taste in my mouth. Worse than that, however, there was a glaring ignorance of the costs of emotional labour for women in this essay. hooks gave the impression she believed women are never, collectively, open to the idea of helping men connect with their inner, emotional selves, or helping them resist the male-specific injunctions of patriarchy. And I was like: are you shitting me here?! Yes, of course we need to work with men to reform society. And I think a lot of feminist women are open to sharing this load. The problem is that, way too often, we find ourselves having to shoulder the load all by ourselves, and having to do the 'work of change' for men, not with them. Whether on a collective or interpersonal level, the crucial concepts of 'gendered entitlement', and lack of reciprocity aren't discussed nearly enough in The Will to Change. And that felt especially frustrating to me as a woman who has suffered (to the point of abuse) from a severe lack of emotional and caring reciprocity in some of her heterosexual relationships. Compassion has to go both ways.
So yeah, hooks' essay was a massively mixed bag. I wouldn't recommend it at all to fellow feminists looking for theoretical analysis grounded in actual data... but I guess I wouldn't not recommend it to feminist and feminist ally 'beginners' interested in the topic of (toxic, if you must use that qualifier) masculinity.
PS: I was also really confused (and disappointed because I don't look kindly on that kind of argumentation) when hooks argued Harry Potter is the quintessential example of a "genius", patriarchal male hero. 'Scuse me wut?! Tell me you've never read the Harry Potter books without telling me you've never read the Harry Potter books. Like come on dude! Criticise Rowling's series all you want, it doesn't change the fact the "genius" in Harry Potter is Hermione – everyone freaking knows that – and Harry's just an average to good student.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.75
I don't really have all that much to add in terms of my appreciation, or praise for this series: its character work was superb, and I found its "documentary-adjacent" aspect very interesting. I specifically enjoyed the discussions around (in this case Christian) religion via the historical upheaval of the Reformation, and the related theming on carrying out large-scale societal change, as well as the morally complex relationship between (perceived) idealist ends and the practical means employed to reach them.
The quality of Mantel's Cromwell trilogy is, for me, undeniable, but it bears repeating it does not, as a story, really feature what I love most in terms of world-building, theming or even, I suppose, character types. Alternatively, and to oversimplify: let's just say I'd rather have my political machinations in chonky fantasy à la Song of Ice and Fire rather than chonky historical fiction set in the 16th century. 😅 As such, these books felt too long (not to mention too mired in trivial detail), past a certain point, and I would've struggled a lot more to make it to the end had I not combined reading my physical copies with listening to their audiobook versions – and pairing that with another activity as well.
Still, I felt genuinely moved by the trilogy's conclusion; this is something that always (kind of) gets a bonus point out of me. Which is also why rating this series feels a little more difficult than usual. If I were more of a non-speculative historical fiction buff, and/or nerdier about Tudor England/Reformation Europe, I'd happily give this trilogy a strong 8/10. But I'm not rating non-fiction here and art, after all, is also about raw personal enjoyment. The simple fact is I would not re-read these books, for the reasons cited above, though they were certainly worth reading all the way through once! 🙂
PS: and Henry VIII Tudor can still go fuck himself, CMV. PPS: thank the lawd for character directories. 😂
LeGuin's writing – whether in prose or verse form apparently – just soothes my soul. No, I didn't love every single poem in this collection, but enough of them touched my sense of aesthetics, heart and/or soul. The collection also features a foreword to the collection, an afterword in which LeGuin shares her understanding of, and preferences with regards to poetry, and a speech she gave in 2014: I loved all of them. Such a beautiful literary voice. 💜
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
All that I said about Wolf Hall applies to Bring Up the Bodies. What I'll add is that: Cromwell continues to be a fascinating 'shades of grey' character. That whilst I understand he wasn't a sociopathically Evil Man™, I still want to go back in time and rip Henry VIII's cock and balls off. That it's kind of depressing to realise, for the billionth time, just how far back sexist and/or misogynistic double standards and powerful men acting like absolute shitheads go (and I mean: it goes much further back than the 16th century, of course, but anyhoo). And that whilst Anne Boleyn wasn't exactly an Innocent Princess™, or even a much of good person, she was still a victim of sexist double standards and a powerful man acting like an absolute shithead, and I felt kinda sorry for her (and the men who got the chop alongside her).
Onto book three! And Henry the Lech perving all over poor Jane Seymour...