Tag: 4 stars

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (1/16/24) – Godkiller

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Godkiller has been out for almost a year now, and it’s been on my radar since last December. Fantasy is second to sci-fi for me, especially where high fantasy like this is concerned, but the compelling characters and the lush, queer-normative world drew me in. Sure would be a shame if the second book wasn’t out yet…oh.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Godkiller (Fallen Gods, #1) – Hannah Kaner

In the kingdom of Middren, the worship or belief in gods of any kind is strictly forbidden. The gods of Middren grow bigger and stronger with every human that believes in them, but after a devastating war between the gods and humankind, Middren has deemed them too dangerous to continue living. In the aftermath, the last gods are hunted down by Godkillers. Kissen is a Godkiller; after her family was slaughtered by a fire god, she has taken up the mantle to ensure that what happened to her family never happens to anyone again. But when she stumbles upon Inara, a noble-born child with a minor god bonded to her, she knows that the only way to break the bond without killing her is to go to Blenraden, the last stronghold of the wild gods. The road ahead will be filled with unexpected allies and strange turns, but Kissen and Inara are weary. For a war is brewing once more, and they may be caught in the middle…

TW/CW: loss of loved ones (on- and off-page), fire, blood, violence, animal death, child death, sacrifice (human/animal), war themes, PTSD

It’s incredibly rare that I enjoy any kind of high fantasy these days, especially with the vaguely European setting and medieval technology level. But Hannah Kaner has managed to elevate all of those elements and create something truly specialโ€”a queer-normative high fantasy with no trouble being itself in a sea of carbon copies. I thoroughly enjoyed this one!

I’m all for a good trope subversion, and this presents an especially delicious one that even I’m aspiring to add into my own writing. I’ve seen a ton of posts/general discourse about how a lot of creators have shied away from making female characters that match common archetypes, but since many of the archetype’s traits are seen as more masculine, it’s almost entirely male characters that end up making up the demographic. In this case, you have the hardened warrior-type who reluctantly ends up taking a child under their wing who eventually melts their cold heart. It’s a trope I’ve always loved, but I’ve rarely seen it done with female characters. Along comes Kissen, and I’m reminded of how excellent the trope can be when it’s done exceptionally well. She has the classic personality of the archetype, but done in a way that makes her character feel fleshed outโ€”she isn’t just hardened for the heck of it, and you get to see exactly how and why she became that way. Her interactions with Inara, from the initial reluctance (which, again, is developed more than “I don’t need a child around”) to her motherly role towards the end, felt tenderly genuine, and watching their relationship develop was one of the highlights of the book.

You know me. I’m all for queer-normative and disability-friendly sci-fi and fantasy worlds, but Godkiller feels so special precisely because of how high fantasy has historically treated both of those things. For disabled characters in particular, it’s practically an expectation that they have to be bitter and constantly in a state of suffering because being in a medieval setting where their disability is minimally understood automatically makes them a weakling. But Godkiller flips that entirely on its headโ€”not only is the main character disabled (facial scars and a prosthetic leg), but it isn’t a main part of the plot; never do we see Kissen suffering for the plot because she’s disabled, and her disability is seen as something neutral, and something to be cared for accordingly. (There is some discussion about the discrimination that Kissen faces because of her scars, but it’s more on the front of being marked by a curse and not necessarily the scars themselves.) One of the side characters is also Deaf, and not only was she one of my favorite side characters, her scenes were explicitly shown so that the reader could see how happy she was with her wife! The fictional sign language was also treated in a similarly neutral/positive wayโ€”there’s even a bit of worldbuilding where Kaner explains that sign language isn’t just used by Deaf or mute people in Middren, but it’s used by pirates on the high seas to communicate when the roar of the ocean drowns out speech. 10/10 worldbuilding. 10/10 disabled representation, and 10/10 disabled people in happy relationships.

The god-killing premise was also one of the main draws for me about Godkiller, hence the name. It could have been easy for a book like this to ride on the premise being interesting and then proceed to do hardly anything out of the ordinary to it, but Kaner’s worldbuilding surrounding the gods of Middren was excellent! Every kind of god is explained, and I loved the wide variety of gods that we saw throughout the novel, from the more formidable ones that caused the war to minor gods like Skediceth, who were just little creatures with surprisingly formidable powers. I also loved the concept of gods tangibly feeding off of beliefโ€”the more shrines there are, the more powerful a god continues to be. Not only did this flesh out the worldbuilding, but it made a lot of elements that would have otherwise been forgettable contribute to the overall stakes of the novel.

My only major complaint about Godkiller was the ending. The pacing was solid for most of the novel, but the ending felt so much more rushed compared to the rest of it. The stakes got milder for a significant stretch, but it only felt like they were amped up in the last 5-10 pages just so that Kaner could tie in a thread to the sequel and remind the reader that Godkiller wasn’t a standalone. It was one of those endings that had me turning back to the last page and then back to the acknowledgements and wondering “wait, that it was it? that was the ending?” For how cleverly most of the novel was constructed, it just felt so sudden and sloppy compared to the rest of it.

All in all, one of the better high fantasy novels I’ve read in a while, with lovable characters, a refreshingly disability-friendly world, and neat, fascinating worldbuilding. 4 stars!

Godkiller is the first novel in the Fallen Gods series, followed by Sunbringer, which is slated for release this March. Godkiller is Hannah Kaner’s debut novel.

Today’s song:

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (11/14/23) – The Crane Husband

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Brief rant: don’t you love it when Goodreads posts the nominees for the “YA Fantasy & Science Fiction” category and…there’s no science fiction books on the list? Not a single one? Thank you Goodreads ๐Ÿฅฐ

It’s been years since I’ve read anything by Kelly Barnhill; I read a fair amount of her middle-grade novels when I was younger, and there were hits (The Girl Who Drank the Moon) and misses (Iron-Hearted Violet). But either way, the road has taken me back to her adult novella, a chilling retelling of “The Crane Wife” that I thoroughly enjoyed.

Enjoy this week’s book review!

The Crane Husband – Kelly Barnhill

In a distant future, a fifteen-year-old girl lives on one of the few remaining farms in the United States, growing cloned crops in order to make a living. Her father passed away when she was young, and now she manages the farm with her mother and takes care of her six-year-old brother, Michael. But when her mother brings home a new suitor, the girl is appalled to find that the suitor happens to be a giant craneโ€”a crane intent on working her mother to the bone in order to produce tapestries to sell. As her mother succumbs to the wills of the crane and her family grows poorer, the girl knows that the only way out is to rid the house of the craneโ€”and she’ll do anything to make sure the bird is out of the farm.

TW/CW: death of a parent, blood, abuse, animal death, child endangerment

It’s been at least seven or eight years since I’ve read anything by Kelly Barnhill, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that when faced with the (quite large) jump from stylistic choices between age groups, she does so with eery grace! The Crane Husband was a disturbing treat, quick but chilling.

I only had a vague notion of the original Japanese folktale of the Crane Wife that this book subverts, but even without that background, Barnhill weaves a haunting, dystopian fairytale like no other. It’s that lovely kind of book that falls into science fiction, but has just enough trappings of other genres to pass as something else. The magical realism element is heavier than the rest, and it rules the bookโ€”rightfully so, given the subject matter. But like a good fairytale, Barnhill’s ability to suspend disbelief made The Crane Husband all the scarierโ€”scenes that would have otherwise seemed charmingly quirky or absurd were downright horrifying under her lens.

Barnhill’s writing was what sold how horrific the events of The Crane Husband truly were. The way she captured the voice of the unnamed, fifteen-year-old protagonist as she had to take her livelihood into her own hands in the face of the invading crane husband had such a tangible desperation, making the conflict feel real as all get out. Tension crept out from every word, and I found myself keeping my Kindle in a vice grip as I read. And that tension never wanesโ€”in only 118 pages, Barnhill built up monumental tension that books three times the length have failed to uphold. The Crane Husband really was nail-bitingly eerie, and it was worth it all the way.

The way that Barnhill used this tangibly uncomfortable atmosphere to drive the point of this folktale’s subversion home was also masterful. The main twist in this iteration is, hence the title, that the protagonist’s mother brings home a giant crane who she takes as her husband. And instead of the crane wife wasting away to produce beautiful tapestries, it’s the human mother being forced by the crane husband to churn out tapestries like a machine. Abusive relationships were the main theme of the novella, and Barnhill’s depiction of abuse through this lens felt as authentic as it could be, from the strained, forced silence of the women of the family and the lack of support that the protagonist finds when she tries to seek help. Beyond that, The Crane Husband’s message about suffering for art was equally powerful and important; the emphasis on how the protagonist’s mother works to the point of near-death in order to create something that people will think of as “transformative” was commentary that I wasn’t expecting from the novel, but enjoyed wholeheartedly. Needs to be said.

That being said, my only major problem with this novella was that it directly referenced the original folktale that it’s retelling. Though it was in a flashback scene, it felt tacky and unnecessarily meta to hand it to you right thereโ€”and not only that, but basically delivering the twist right at your doorstep. I will admit that I loved the line about cranes making other creatures do the work for them, but at that point, it isn’t even foreshadowing anymoreโ€”it’s just whacking you over the head with the twist that it’s supposed to be hiding from you. It made me more than a little mad, but the rest of the novella was so good that I could almost let it slide. Almost.

All in all, a timely and truly disturbing retelling that packed a stinging punch with an impressively short page count. 4 stars!

The Crane Husband is a standalone; Kelly Barnhill is also the author of many books for children, including The Witch’s Boy, The Girl Who Drank the Moon, and Iron-Hearted Violet. She is also the author of When Women Were Dragons, her first full-length novel for adults.

Today’s song:

NEW SMILE ALBUM IN JANUARY EVERYBODY STAY CALM

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (11/7/23) – The Deep Sky

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

The Deepy Sky came out this July, and I’ve been seeing a ton of buzz about it around the blogosphere since. I’m always in for a sci-fi thriller, and this one delivered in that aspect, as well as the wonderful mixed-race rep!

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Deep Sky – Yume Kitasei

Asuka has been chosen as a representative on a mission to deep space, where she will help give birth the next generation of Earth’s children. But she has been chosen to represent Japanโ€”a country she barely knows, as a half-Japanese, half-Latina girl raised in the United States. Feeling like an imposter to an unfamiliar country, she accepts her duty and joins the crew of the Phoenix. But a deadly explosion onboard the ship leaves her the only surviving witness. With all eyes on her once more, Asuka must get to the bottom of the explosion before the perpetrator strikes again.

TW/CW: racism, terrorism, miscarriage/fertility themes, death of a child

“Literary” sci-fi rarely does it for me; most of what I’ve read barely scrapes past the 3.5 star rating for me, at best. Often, what happens is that the sci-fi element gets significantly watered down for the sake of marketability, drama, and a place in a celebrity’s book club (see: Sea of Tranquility, In the Quick). But The Deep Sky had the chops to make itself uniqueโ€”and incredibly poignant.

The sci-fi plot of The Deep Sky is pretty standard as far as story elements go, but Kitasei’s approach to it made it feel fresh. It’s the setup for a myriad of sci-fi thrillers: you’ve got a large crew voyaging through the depths of space, only for a tragic accident to leave everyone onboard in suspicion, with no way to get back to Earth. It’s not necessarily a new approach plot-wise that keeps it goingโ€”it’s the emotional core that Kitasei brings to it. You’re really able to see deeply into Asuka’s head, deeper than a lot of authors dare to go with these kinds of stories; it’s a great way to increase the stakes without having to complicate the mystery of the story.

Also, LET’S HEAR IT FOR MIXED-RACE REPRESENTATION!! I’ve been on a roll with books with amazing mixed-race characters and stories lately (see also: Leslie Marmon Silko’s Ceremonyโ€”a very different book, but no less poignant), and as a mixed-race person, I’m so glad that narratives like these exist. Kitasei’s depiction of the imposter syndrome that Asuka faces about her identity is twofoldโ€”not only is there the level of it that comes with her being of Japanese and Mexican descent in the U.S., but also in the fact that she has to represent Japanโ€”a country that she’s barely been toโ€”in this mission. It really did make me feel so, so seen. Kitasei’s portrayal of having these intersecting identities and them coming at odds with how others want to box you in was deeply moving and authentic, and I cannot thank her enough for that.

Back to the subject of literary sci-fi. A lot of these types of novels that I’ve read deal with intersecting, nonlinear timelines, which may or may not have to do with actual time travel (case dependent). For the most part, it worked incredibly in Kitasei’s favorโ€”even outside what we can consider the “main” plot, the pieces that we get of Asuka’s life before the deep space mission were almost more intriguing than the actual murder mystery in space. Kitasei’s character work is incredibly detailed and nuanced, and having most of this novel be driven by character and family was a choice that made me enjoy it that much more. These types of sci-fi thrillers normally lend themselves to very distant characters, and minimal character work by proxy (outside of “trust no one”), so this was a breath of fresh air in that sense.

That being said, the nonlinear timeline was also what brought part of the novel down for me. There’s much more emphasis placed on the time before the mission than the actual mission, making the murder mystery plot feel like an afterthought. The way that these timelines were spaced out meant that we went long stretches without checking in on what’s supposed to be the novel’s inciting incident, which made the stakes feel much lower than they were meant to be. The tension got appropriately amped towards the end, but other than that, there really wasn’t as much thriller as I was expecting going in. Maybe this is just a matter of how The Deep Sky was marketed, but I did wish we got a little more of the “main” plot.

All in all, a rare gem of a literary sci-fi novel where every page brimmed with emotion and suspicion. 4 stars!

The Deep Sky is a standalone; it is also Yume Kitasei’s debut novel.

Today’s song:

listened to my first Arlo Parks album, and I’m a fan!! this was my favorite, for sure

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (10/3/23) – Under the Earth, Over the Sky

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I swear it’s entirely a coincidence that I’m reviewing two books that have titles separated by commas with the word “sky” somewhere in them (The other would be Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea). They’re entirely different books, but I’m glad to say that they’re equally excellent. Under the Earth, Over the Sky gives fantasy a tenderness that it’s desperately needed for years, and I am all the better for reading it.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Under the Earth, Over the Sky – Emily McCosh

Iohmar does not meddle in the affairs of the human world. He is above such things, being an ancient fae king older than human civilization itself. But when he finds an abandoned, dying baby in the borderlands between the human world and his kingdom, he takes it upon himself to raise him as his own. He names his human son Lorcan, and he takes him back to live in the fae kingdom. But Iohmar’s ancient magic has begun to wane, and with threats encroaching into his kingdom, he must do whatever it takes to protect baby Lor and the rest of his subjects.

TW/CW: past mentions of abuse/loss of a loved one, abandonment of a child, nightmares, child endangerment

I’m so sick and tired of grimdark, man. I’ll save my rant about it for another day, but I just feel like it’s a blight on fantasy, and on any genre where it’s applicable. (Life is full of joy and beauty! They can never take your joyous whimsy!) That’s why this book feels so necessary. Under the Earth, Over the Sky really did heal my soul. It may not be without its flaws, but it’s such a deeply moving and poignant tale of love beyond boundaries and parenthood.

For the past few years, I’ve found myself drifting away from most kinds of high and epic fantasy; at their very worst, they’ve just felt like the same plots coughed up over and over, but with far heftier of a page count than is necessary. But Under the Earth, Over the Sky feels like the best kind of subversion of all of the self-serious, high-and-mighty tropes that have turned me off from a fair portion of the genre. How do you make your haughty, ancient king of the fae with the wisdom of a thousand moons a genuinely compelling character? Simple: make him raise a baby. The synopsis already made this book sound endearing, but I couldn’t have predicted how much of a warm bath to the soul that this book would really be.

Of course, the dynamic between Iohmar and his adopted son was where Under the Earth, Over the Sky shone the brightest. Watching Iohmar’s cold heart slowly melt as he began to care for Lor was truly a joy, and Emily McCosh portrayed all of the ups and downs of their father-son relationship so poignantly. He was such a compelling character beyond his dynamic with Lor as well; McCosh also did an excellent job of making his life and relationships genuinely complicated, making him feel truly fleshed-out and making some of the stakes seem more real. Every part of his raising Lor tugged at my heartstrings, from the moment he realizes that he has to care for this baby, to grappling with the fact that his appearance frightens his own son. Not to praise the plague that is the Disney live-action remakes, this novel reminded me of the only good oneโ€”the dynamic between Angelina Jolie’s Maleficent and baby Aurora was similarly sweet. The fact that it’s a father-son relationship also feels so importantโ€”having a male character showing such vulnerability and care is something that we need more of, certainly.

Most of the other character interactions were similarly comforting and cozy. I especially loved the dynamic between Iohmar and his wife Rรบnda; they were so quietly devoted to each other, and their gentle love fueled the already heartwarming feel of this novel. The interactions between Iohmar and the humans he encounters along the way were similarly poignant. Not only did they serve to drive home the rift between Lor’s human and adopted fae identities, Iohmar’s subtle changes in how he dealt with humans was so tender and indicative of his shifting character. Strangely, even though there weren’t as many characters, subtle interactions like these were what made the world feel lived-inโ€”it didn’t take a lot for this world to feel populated, which helped immensely with my feeling of immersion.

However, as well fleshed-out as many aspects of Under the Earth, Over the Sky were, the subplots surrounding the main plot felt rather rushed. Although the stakes of Iohmar’s magic rotting were clear and tangible, the aspect of the rippling felt like it barely held any weight. They weren’t as well established at the start of the novel, and that lack of immersion felt like none of it was really seriousโ€”it really did feel like an afterthought. That part was resolved in a similarly messy way, but at least it got somewhat neatly swept under the rug. It was an interesting enough concept, but a lack of context and fleshing-out made it feel almost meaningless.

All in all, a refreshingly cozy and tender story of parental love and changes of heart. 4 stars!

Under the Earth, Over the Sky is a standalone, but Emily McCosh is also the author of All the Woods She Watches Over, an anthology of short stories and poetry, and the ongoing In Dying Starlight series.

Today’s song:

live laugh Lisa Germano

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (9/26/23) – Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Fingers crossed, I should be able to keep up with at least these reviews and my Sunday Songs now. Plus, I’ve read some good books lately, and I’m itching to write a full-length review! Especially about this one. I’ve seen it here and there on the blogosphere, and it’s getting average reviews on Goodreads as of now; I don’t usually gravitate towards historical fiction, but Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea was such an engrossing read!

Enjoy this week’s review!

Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea – Rita Chang-Eppig

The pirate Shek-Yeung has a reputation that precedes her. After her husband is murdered by a Portuguese sailor, she takes it upon herself to do everything in her power to take his fleet for her own, starting with marrying her husband’s second in command and having his son. With the ship under her iron rule, she becomes just as feared as her husband once was. But as the Emperor of China begins a crackdown on piracy and her crew begins to turn against her, Shek-Yeung must grapple with the power that is slipping through her fingersโ€”and taking care of her new son.

TW/CW: blood, gore, near-death situations, descriptions of illness, loss of loved ones, misogyny

I love a good swashbuckling pirate book, so I never considered that a more grounded pirate story could possibly exist. And it doesโ€”its name is Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea, and it has just as much of a punch and importance, even if it lacks the conventional adventuring that typically comes along with pirate stories.

I’m not usually much for historical fiction; it’s not a genre that I typically gravitate towards, but if I pick it up, it’s usually because it’s intertwined with another genre (fantasy, etc.). Literary historical fiction, even less soโ€”that usually brings to mind the thousands of WWII novels with the exact same font that I always have to reshelve at the library. But Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea occupies a very unique niche. It has all of the diligent research and worldbuilding of any good historical fiction, with a fair dose of drama and an emotional core that sets it apart from the often distant literary fiction novels that I can think of. Even though I know next to nothing about the time period in which its set (listen, I took AP World History online, you can understand my situation), Chang-Eppig clearly put so much time into fleshing out Shek-Yeung’s worldโ€”and all of it paid off.

On that note, I’ve seen a lot of complaints about this book having dry writing. At times, the worldbuilding and negotiations did trail in the slightest, but to me, this novel was just the right amount of captivating. Even with all of said drama and heavy plot points, the writing felt cinematicโ€”I don’t mean that in the way of a blockbuster, but of that special kind of Oscar-winner that you actually watched and enjoyed. It knew when to hold its breath and let the silence fill the page, and it knew when to make your emotions swell. I wouldn’t call it perfect, but it’s impressive enough that I’m wowed by the fact that this is Chang-Eppig’s debut novel. I’d gladly watch a movie adaptation of this book.

The characterization in Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea was just as stellar as the other aspects! Shek-Yeung was such an expertly written protagonist in almost every way that I can think of. Chang-Eppig captured every aspect of her personality effortlessly; she lives at that intersection of aging and legacy where she isn’t as physically strong as she was in her youth, but she’s just as fearsome and skilled as she was back then. She’s been beaten down by the trials of womanhood and the shadows of her past trailing her, but is slowly learning to love again. Every part of her was nothing short of captivating, and she was the perfect emotional core for the story, even if she was reluctant to show her own. The side characters were just as wonderful as well, and the perfect foils to Shek-Yeung. Yan-Yan was my absolute favorite. She was just the sweetest…my girl needs a hug

That being said, I feel like more could have been done with Shek-Yeung’s character development at the end of the novelโ€”and the ending of the novel in general. Throughout the novel, Shek-Yeung basically had that mentality of “we’re all just meat sacks on a floating rock and we’re all just animals that don’t care about each other” (it’d be insufferable on any other character, but…she’s a middle-aged pirate in the Qing Dynasty who’s just witnessed the brutal murder of her husband, I can at least kind of see it in her case). But most of the smaller arcs with her seemed to be leading up to her learning how to heal and love again, what with her son and with the rest of her crew (esp. the more optimistic Yan-Yan). But even after the climactic events of the last part of the novel, she hardly seemed to change. It just didn’t make sense for her, who’d been so well-written up until this point, to suddenly go static. Most of the ending felt rushed in generalโ€”it felt ambiguously but not necessarily in a literary way, but more in an “I don’t know how to end this book, so I’m going to write a few more sentences and call it a day” kind of way. It just felt like such a disservice to what was an otherwise stellar novel.

All in all, a beautiful historical drama with some of the most well-written characters I’ve read in a while. 4 stars!

Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea is a standalone; it is also Rita Chang-Eppig’s debut novel.

Today’s song:

favorite song from this album!!

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Uncategorized

Book Review Tuesday (6/20/23) – Meru

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’ve been eyeing this book for a whileโ€”I remember it being heavily advertised on Goodreads when it was first released, and normally, I don’t pay much attention to Goodreads ads or sponsored books, but all you had to say was “space opera” and I was hooked. I’m a woman of simple tastes. It was cheap on the Kindle library, so I bought it to read on vacation. To my excitement, it ended up being my favorite book that I read on vacationโ€”so detailed and gripping!

Enjoy this week’s review!

Meru (The Alloy Era, #1) – S.B. Divya

Jayanthi, like all other humans in her day and age, are confined to Earth. Kept there by the Alloys, evolved human descendants with advanced capabilities, she has been raised by Alloy parents on her homeworld, but has always dreamed of seeing the wider galaxy. But when an opportunity arises for Jayanthi to explore the newly discovered planet Meru with the aid of an Alloy pilot, she jumps at the chanceโ€”what better way to show the galaxy that humans are more than their violent past?

With the help of Vaya, her Alloy pilot, Jayanthi touches down on Meru. Soon, they find themselves embroiled in a human-alloy conflict, seemingly engineered to separate the two of them. Will Jayanthi and Vaya beat the oddsโ€”and restore faith in the human race?

TW/CW: ableism, xenophobia (fictional), sexual content/pregnancy, descriptions of injury, sci-fi violence

I got carsick while reading this book, but I don’t hold it against it at all. That was on me and my hubris of thinking that I wouldn’t get nauseous on a long car trip just this once. Whoops.

Reading some of the lower-rated reviews of Meru is kind of cracking me up…listen. I get that zie/zir pronouns (and neopronouns in general) are somewhat obscure, but of all the absolutely wild, dense, and out-there concepts that this book throws at you, that’s what makes you jump ship? Not the exceedingly complicated…well, everything else?

That being said, Meru lived up to the hype I’ve seen it getting for the past few months! It hit a sweet spot for me that a lot of sci-fi and fantasy books rarely doโ€”creating a complex and multilayered universe, but very delicately balancing when and where to deliver all of this information. Divya came very close to going over the edge, but she navigated the worldbuilding delivery with aplomb.

So, about said worldbuilding. I’d say that Meru isn’t for the faint of heart, even for longtime sci-fi fansโ€”as I mentioned in the beginning of the review, there’s a lot to take in, from the post-human history of the Alloys to all of the machinations surrounding new genetic modification laws in the future. But even though we do get some of this information in larger chunks, Divya excels at navigating which information is actually relevant to the scene it’s informing, and not sledgehammering you with extra information that only becomes relevant elsewhere in the book. It also helps that every inch of said worldbuilding is truly fascinatingโ€”it’s clear to see how much care was put into the creation of this universe.

If you’re talking about disability in sci-fi, you’re generally bound to open a particularly dicey can of worms. There’s quite a lot of eugenics narratives that a lot of readers have let slide for years, and the narrative of curing all disabilities is seen as positive, when a lot of the disabilities being described never needed curing in the first place. For the sake of this review, I’ll keep it short, but the bottom line is that it’s gross. But Meru takes a refreshing perspective on disability in sci-fiโ€”not only was Jayanthi, the protagonist, specifically engineered to have sickle-cell anemia (now THAT’S a subversion I like), her disability is depicted in a far more advantageous and positive light. Anyone who’s ever touched a high school biology textbook probably remembers this example: despite its drawbacks, those with sickle-cell also have increased resistance to many tropical diseases. That’s exactly the case for Jayanthi, whose sickle-cell anemia makes her more suited to the environment of the planet Meru than those without it. Positive disability rep is good enough, but having it specifically depicted as something that gives the character the edge is something special. That, along with the wonderful discussions around disability and bodily autonomy (both allegorical and literal), made Meru a wonderful experience for me as a disabled reader.

In addition, Divya has created such a vibrant cast of characters in Meru! Jayanthi was such an endearing and powerful protagonist, and her relationship with the equally endearing Vaha was full of tenderness, despite its ups and downs. Almost all of the cast added to the book’s masterful suspense and tension, making you feel deeply for all of the relevant characters before things got (very) hairy. Plus, the integration of Sanskrit, several Indian-coded (and other POC characters), and loads of casual queerness was a breath of fresh air from all of the white, male, cishet sci-fi that still dominates the market. We need more books like Meru.

All in all, an intricately-crafted sci-fi novel that dazzled with its detailed worldbuilding, diversity, and refreshing discussions around disability. 4 stars!

Meru is the first book in S.B. Divya’s Alloy Era series, continued by the forthcoming Loka, slated for release in July of 2024. Divya is also the author of Machinehood and Run Time, as well as a contributor to several short story collections.

Today’s song:

NEW SMILE IT’S SO GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD (does this mean that we’re closer to hearing “Read the Room” too?????

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (5/30/23) – The Memory Police

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I forget how exactly I came across this novel, but it was one of the first books that I put on my Libby wish list way back in March 2020, when I lived off of Kindle books. At the time it was always on hold for weeks when I tried to check it out, and so gradually, it faded to the bottom of the list. But after years of forgetting about it, I rediscovered this novelโ€”and it was finally available! Usually, literary science fiction doesn’t always do it for me, but The Memory Police was a strangely quiet dystopia with a powerful undercurrent.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Memory Police – Yลko Ogawa (translated by Stephen Snyder)

A young writer leads a quiet life on a distant, unnamed island, grieving a multitude of losses. Her parents passed away many years ago, but it isn’t just people that are disappearingโ€”it’s objects, animals, and ideas as well: hats, birds, ribbons, and all manner of things. Once they disappear, nobody on the island has any recollection of their existenceโ€”they simply fade from public memory. And to enforce this, the island is under the iron fist of the Memory Police, who are there to make sure that these forgotten things stay that way. But she seems to be one of the only people who still clings to the memory of what’s been lost.

When the writer’s editor falls under suspicion from the Memory Police, she hatches a plan to hide him under her floorboards, silently completing her novel as they evade capture. And as more and more objects begin to fade into obscurity, her writing may be the only thing left to cling to.

TW/CW: loss of loved ones (past), kidnapping, police brutality

The Memory Police has been compared time and time again to 1984, and the comparison is clear, but it seemed to take a more literary approach. And while the “literary” part initially made me suspicious, this was one of the most creative and wholly human dystopian novels that I’ve read in a long time!

What sets The Memory Police apart from most other dystopias that you can think of is its perspective. We aren’t given an extensive history as to how the unnamed island came to be under such totalitarian rule, and how everything began disappearing and why. Nor do any of the charactersโ€”save for the main character’s editor, referred to only as ‘R’ in this translationโ€”have names, save for their roles or jobs (the protagonist’s parents) or their physical appearance (the old man). All this book seeks to do is give you an ordinary person’s view into something hauntingโ€”the protagonist is just as confused as you are, and she is moving through this world in the only way that she can. Naturally, I was curious about the main plot points (how and why everything was disappearing, and how the Memory Police came to be), but I got that the point wasn’t to explain such things, but to see it happening firsthand through somebody else’s eyes, when they may know about as much as we do. I assumed the Memory Police were in control of what disappeared and they had some degree of immunity, which I was curious about, but the decision to omit these details at least made sense as a stylistic choice.

Make no mistakeโ€”The Memory Police is certainly haunting, but there’s a quietness to it that makes it stand out from the rest. In this state-surveilled, isolated island environment, this novel is the closest thing that you can get to a slice-of-life story. Other than some chilling instances involving break-ins by the Memory Police, it’s the story of one woman flying under the radar and trying to write her novel as the world is crumbling around her. There’s a constant fear surrounding everything, but in between, she finds time to craft a novel, share secret memories about her parents’ world and what they loved, and hold parties from an elderly man who helps keep her editor hidden. Sometimes, frightening change doesn’t come in the form of something obviousโ€”it’s often slow and goes unnoticed, and it is the small things that keep us going through it.

Literary science fiction like this often comes off like it’s trying to be better than “regular” science fiction, like it boasts some lofty message that your common novel can’t possible get across. I’m glad to say that The Memory Police does none of thatโ€”some of the writing does fit that style, but nothing about it comes across as belittling or haughty. In fact, it has an incredibly powerful message. With all of the plot centering around the loss of memory and holding on to the last remnants of a past world, the ending made an incredibly powerful statement: as long as there is somebody around to keep a memory of something alive, memories never really dieโ€”they always stay with us. It’s a beautiful message on loss, and about resistance in generalโ€”maybe the most powerful thing we can do in the face of tyranny is to know that there is a way to change things, and hold memories of what our forebears did in the face of similar situations. This book is proof that dystopias don’t have to be flashy and overtly gritty to get their themes acrossโ€”quietness can be just as powerful.

All in all, a nontraditional dystopia that made an incredible impact from reveling in its quiet moments. 4 stars!

The Memory Police is a standalone, but Yลko Ogawa is the author of many other novels that have been translated into several different languages, including Revenge, The Housekeeper and the Professor, Hotel Iris, and more.

Today’s song:

Peter Gabriel Summer 2 is upon us

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (5/9/23) – Not Here to Be Liked

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I put this one on my TBR years ago, and I only fished it out of the void a few days ago, after looking for some books to read for AAPI heritage month. I’d read mixed reviews, so I went in with low expectations, but I came out with a fantastic and nuanced story of feminism in a high school setting!

Enjoy this week’s review!

Not Here to Be Liked – Michelle Quach

Eliza Quan knows that she’s qualified for the position of editor-in-chief at her high school newspaper. She’s been with them since the beginning of her high school career, and sure, she may not be the warmest person 24/7, but she has what it takes to bring the newspaper to new heights. The problem? Her classmates don’t seem to think so.

When she loses the editor-in-chief election to Len DiMartile, who only joined the newspaper after an injury prevented him from playing baseball and decided to run against her on a whim, she feels as though all of her hard work has come to nothing. And she knows she’s qualifiedโ€”so why does this sexist activity keep running amok in her school? After pouring out her thoughts in a manifesto, Eliza thinks it’s all over. But after the manifesto is posted to the paper’s website without her permission, it causes a ripple effect of protest and accusations. Among the sides being taken, can Eliza transform this drama into genuine change at her school?

TW/CW: sexism/misogyny (external & internalized), racism, bullying, slut-shaming, substance abuse (alcohol)

Don’t you just love it when you’ve forgotten about a book existing, so you go in with low expectations, and you end up dazzled? Top 10 feelings, for sure.

I’ve read my fair share of feminist, realistic-fiction YA in my day, and sadly, it’s easy for them to miss the mark, whether it’s introducing diverse characters for the sake of intersectionality and doing nothing with them (Six Angry Girls) or having a protagonist who only focuses on very surface-level aspects of feminism without getting any more nuanced (half of Watch Us Rise). But Not Here to Be Liked delivered the nuance, heart, and punch that it was supposed to, making for a powerful story of systemic misogyny and leadership.

I think some of the reviews seemed to miss the point when talking about Elizaโ€”she’s a great character, but she’s not intended to be entirely likable. It’s in the title, after all! Sureโ€”she’s determined to make the school paper as good as possible, and sometimes, that comes off as abrasive or strict. But that’s the pointโ€”were she a man, these traits would be praised: she’s “too harsh,” but he’s “willing to take charge” or “a fearless leader.” See the double standard? That’s what this book was trying to say all along. And Quach did an excellent job of having a flawed but incredibly root-able protagonist: every position that she takes is a laudable one that’s backed up more often than not. Eliza was robbed of her position, simply because a man’s charisma meant more than a woman’s experience and talent.

Not Here to Be Liked also portrayed how we think of feminism so well! As soon as Eliza’s manifesto is leaked and both support and vitriol begin to flow towards her, many of her classmates stand behind her, but their support is often half-baked; it’s a great commentary on that shallow, hollow white feminism that’s so prevalent among people who aren’t willing to do anything politically uncomfortable: slapping an “I am a feminist” pin on your shirt, saying “smash the patriarchy!” a few times because it’s briefly profitable, and being done with it. This novel does an incredible job of dissecting the true nuance of feminism and teaching others that making genuine change isn’t simple or easyโ€”there are always more layers than you think there are. It’s never just about genderโ€”it’s about race, sexuality, class, and so many other facets of our national (and international) identity. And even though this book doesn’t necessarily cover every bit of itโ€”it’s a big ask for a single book to cover every single component that falls under feminismโ€”it didn’t need to: misogyny and racism were the main focuses, and they were dealt with in a nuanced way. Apart from a misunderstanding of the Bechdel test (the book seemed to interpret a lot of it as how much real women think about men, when Bechdel’s focus was more about how female characters are written, especially in male-dominated Hollywood), it’s a great view of feminism in a YA setting.

Plus, with all of my gripes, Not Here to Be Liked did something of an enemies-to-lovers romance pretty well! Going into this novel, that part was what I was most suspicious about, but Quach, unlike many romances with “enemies-to-lovers” slapped onto them as a buzzword, actually handled in a way that felt authentic. The stages of Eliza and Len’s relationship didn’t feel like it was cut into neat, digestible slicesโ€”they had their ups and downs, and the result wasn’t entirely black and white, either. That’s what love is. It’s not quantifiable by any of the labels we put on it, and that’s how it’s supposed to be. Personally, I didn’t think that they had a whole lot of chemistry together, but their relationship was well-written enough that I could push some of that to the side.

All in all, an incredible story of one young woman’s fight for justice in her high school that scores high on its protagonist and depictions of feminism. 4 stars!

Not Here to Be Liked is a standalone, but Michelle Quach is also the author of The Boy You Always Wanted, which is slated for release on August 1, 2023.

Today’s song:

almost finished with Kindred on FX, and I have mixed feelings about it, but for now, at least I got this eery Beatles cover out of it

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (4/4/23) – Strike the Zither

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Descendant of the Crane and The Ones We’re Meant to Find made me an instant fan of Joan He, and so I was immediately hooked when I found out that she was cooking up another piece of folkloric-feeling historical fiction! And now that I’ve finished this novel, I can safely say that Joan He has never once let me down. Fingers crossed that it’s consistent.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Strike the Zither (Kingdom of Three, #1) – Joan He

Zephyr has spent her whole life mapping survival out strategically. It was necessary after she was orphaned while she was still young, but as the strategist of the warlordess Xin Ren, she now holds the fate of a warring country in her hands. Three factions are fighting for dominance under a figurehead of an empress, and any sudden moves could mean that one faction takes over the entire Xin Dynasty.

When Zephyr is sent on a mission to infiltrate the ranks of the enemy to ensure the safekeeping of Xin Ren’s loyal followers, she collides with Crow, an enemy strategist with an agenda of his own. But the boiling point of all three factions is fast approaching, and Zephyr must do anything in order to make it out aliveโ€”even if it means exposing herself to the enemy.

TW/CW: death, blood, war themes, violence, torture, animal death, vomiting, abuse, body-shaming, xenophobia (fictional)

I’m not sure why I’m so hesitant to say that Joan He can do no wrong at this point. She’s never missed. Not with Descendant of the Crane, not with The Ones We’re Meant to Find, and certainly not with this novel. Her first two books were already works of art, and I’m glad to say that He is consistent in the quality of her writing, and consistent in her ability to put out so much unique media into the world of literature.

Each Joan He book is memorable in its own way, but what stood out to me about Strike the Zither was how wonderfully cinematic it was. It wasn’t frustratingly quippy or overtly self-serious; He knew just when to hit the balance, juxtaposing war with well-placed zither solos and political intrigue. He seems to do political intrigue especially wellโ€”there’s a way to make it genuinely interesting without having the entire focus be on court drama, which happens so often in YA, and with both this novel and Descendant of the Crane, she teases each development just enough to continually keep my attention. With the stylized art on the cover, I could honestly imagine this novel being adapted into a darker Laika Studios stop-motion film, but no matter the medium, Strike the Zither feels like it was born for the screen.

He also has an awareness of her characters that not many YA authors doโ€”she knows that Zephyr and all of the other supporting characters are over the top, and she absolutely rolls with it. Again, Strike the Zither was a master class in balance; Zephyr neither fell into the all-too-common self-seriousness of YA, nor did she constantly break out into the dreaded Marvel Funny personality. She’s theatrical, but in a fun way that doesn’t mire itself in angst unnecessarily. Given this novel’s roots in Chinese classics and folklore, it’s the perfect way to write it; He mentions that the original epic of the Three Kingdoms had a tendency to put historical figures on a godlike pedestal, and this felt like a tongue-in-cheek response to that style.

The pacing of this novel also sealed the deal for me; although it was a little difficult to get into right out of the gate with how the world and its characters were so rapidly introduced, once it got going, the pace never faltered. Every action felt calculated, like the strategist that Zephyr is, and each choice elevated the plot to heights that I didn’t expect Strike the Zither to reach. The main twist was so deftly executed, and it had me grinning from ear to ear when I came across it, and my excitement never waned over the course of this novel. This one’s a must-read, trust me.

All in all, an impressive display of Joan He’s talent on all fronts. 4 stars! I can’t wait for the rest of the duology!

Strike the Zither is the first book in the Kingdom of Three duology; the sequel, Sound the Gong, is set for release in October of 2023 (!!!). Joan He is also the author of Descendant of the Crane and The Ones We’re Meant to Find, both of which are standalones.

Today’s song:

I’ve had this on repeat for the past few days :,) so lovely

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (2/14/23) – Son of the Storm (The Nameless Republic, #1)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles, and happy Valentine’s Day! I’ve got no plans other than eating cookies, but I’m all for spreading the love. ๐Ÿ’—

Son of the Storm has been on my radar for…about 6 months? A year? I’m not sure, but either way, I’m glad I picked it up. Usually, long, epic fantasy books like this make me lose interest, but Suyi Davies Okungbowa has written a tale that had me hooked almost all the way through.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Son of the Storm (The Nameless Republic, #1) – Suyi Davies Okungbowa

Danso is well on the way to becoming a renowned scholar, but despite the path set before him, he seeks more in life than what his university can teach him. He knows that the city of Bassa has sinister secrets woven into its history, walling itself away from the rest of the world and making every immigrant swear to secrecy. Danso’s bravado catches up with him when he discovers Lilongโ€”and along with her, a type of magic that he never knew existed. A magic that bonds to him, and a magic that could determine his fate and the fates of Bassa itself.

TW/CW: graphic violence, racism/colorism, immolation, blood

These days, it’s rare for an epic fantasy over 500 pages to keep my attention; to pull it off, you have to not only have great worldbuilding, but you have to buoy it with some kind of action and character building, and more often than not, many will lean on one to propel the page count. I was hoping that Son of the Storm wouldn’t fall into that trap, but to my relief, it gave us all of those elements and more, making for a compelling fantasy that hooked me on the rest of the series!

It’s clear to me that so much care was put into the characters of Son of the Storm, but Danso stood out the most to me. He’s refreshingly fleshed outโ€”he’s lovably cocky, he’s determined, and he can talk his way out of any situation. Beyond that, there was so much nuance to him that made the plot all the more compelling; the wrongs within Bassa had a personal connection to his own family history, and that drove him to discover more about the outside world. It’s a low bar, I know, but I’m so used to epic fantasy having issues that are only tangentially related to their protagonists, and giving Danso a more personal, tangible connection to the plot made the story all the more interesting to read.

And that’s in no small part thanks to Okungbowa’s fantastic writing! His prose hit the perfect balance of fantastical and grounded, making the human aspect of the story shine through. The moments of humor are balanced with moments of meditation on systemic issues and personal biases, and there wasn’t a moment that I thought that either were too much or too little. Although the plot did have brief moments of lulling, Okungbowa easily revived the suspense and action to keep the story moving in ways that made sense and were integral to the journeys of each character. In my experience, it’s difficult to keep up that pace for over 500 pages; usually, something gets lost in the worldbuilding or somewhere else, but Son of the Storm was, for the most part, consistently action-packed.

Back to the characters, however, is where my major problem came in: the multiple POV structure. Normally, I’m a sucker for multiple POVs when they’re done well, giving the reader a chance to see the story through the eyes of several, fleshed-out characters. It’s clear that Okungbowa loves his characters, but maybe he loved them…a little too much. During the last half of the book, we got the POVs of a few side characters that only had relevance in a certain section of the book, taking away the spotlight from the development of the main characters, such as Danso, Lilong, and Zaq. A lot of the time, these characters’ voices didn’t even come through, making the fact that the chapter is from their POV nearly pointless. Having the POVs consistently switch between Danso, Lilong, Zaq, and maybe Esheme would have made the story flow so much better, and it would have made sense to focus on their development rather than a passing side character.

All in all, an action-packed piece of fantasy with lovable characters and a plot that kept me guessing. 4 stars!

Son of the Storm is the first in the Nameless Republic series, followed by Warrior of the Wind, which is slated for release in November of this year. Suyi Davies Okungbowa is also the author of David Mogo Godhunter and several other short stories.

Today’s song:

listened to this album (Leisure) yesterday, and it was a lot of fun!! this one’s a standout

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!