Tag: Adult Science Fiction

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (7/16/24) – The Vela

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

The Vela came on my radar again when I dredged my TBR for books to read during this year’s Disability Pride Month. Beyond the disability rep…what could possibly go wrong with Becky Chambers AND Rivers Solomon, right? I’m glad to say I was right—whether it was the work of new-to-me or longtime favorite authors, they all came together in stunning harmony in The Vela, a timely sci-fi epic that’s as observant as it is thrilling.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Vela: A Novel – Yoon Ha Lee, Becky Chambers, Rivers Solomon, and S.L. Huang

Asala Sikou can’t afford to care about anybody but herself. Not when her star system is on the verge of collapse, and not when everyone she once knew is long dead. But when she receives a job to track down the Vela, a ship hauling thousands of refugees that mysteriously disappeared, Asala knows that there’s more than meets the eye to the incident. So does Niko, the smart but sheltered child of another planet’s president. The two unlikely companions will have to team up to track down the Vela—and all of its refugees—before they’re embroiled in a galaxy-wide war.

TW/CW: xenophobia, racism, themes of genocide, descriptions of death/corpses

The promise of Becky Chambers and Rivers Solomon in one novel was the main draw of The Vela for me, but by the time I finished the novel, I was fully invested in all four contributors. Their talents came together so seamlessly, making for a novel that wasn’t just coherent, but downright thrilling—The Vela is sure to satisfy whether or not you’re familiar with the authors.

Out of all of the authors who contributed to The Vela, I was the most hesitant about Yoon Ha Lee; the one book I’ve read of his was one that didn’t mesh with my style (but that was also his first attempt at middle grade, so that could have been my issue). I read a sample of Ninefox Gambit ages ago and liked it, but not enough to buy it. Consider me proven wrong about him! As the author who started off the novel, he was the perfect choice. His fast-paced prose made for an opening chapter that integrated the reader swiftly and effortlessly into the world of The Vela. Later on, his battle scenes were some of the highlights of the novel; every chase sequence and dogfight is so meticulous that I questioned whether or not he’d actually been in the thick of an intergalactic war. I’ll be seeking out more of his work after this!

Becky Chambers was, by far, the author I was most excited about seeing in The Vela. I’ve fallen head-over-heels in love with her cozy sci-fi, as many other readers had. What she contributed to The Vela, however, was a sense of complication. Like The Galaxy, and the Ground Within, where she piled a series of unlikely characters together and had them clash in terms of culture, politics, and personality, Chambers excelled at complicating the relationships between each character. Her cozy agenda made me forget how well she writes cold, fascist characters; the way she wrote General Cynwrig sent chills up my spine, conveying the dull distance she has from every other character. Every interaction with her is nothing but war room strategy, and that’s why she and Niko clashed so fundamentally. While toeing over making Cynwrig sympathetic, Chambers gave us a glimpse into her mind without justifying her actions. It’s a difficult dilemma to skirt around, but one that served to develop Niko incredibly; they had a very un-nuanced view of the galaxy, and although their views weren’t changed fundamentally, it allowed them to see different sides without excusing their horrific actions.

Rivers Solomon, the other author I was looking forward to reading in The Vela, gave us the novel’s best glimpse into the mind of the protagonist, Asala. Their prose here, which combines rough-edged anger with exceptional metaphor, fleshed out Asala in ways that the other chapters did not; Solomon had the weight of sculpting all of the events that made Asala as cool and calculated as she was, and by the end, I had a vision of her that was as clear as a map, with every mountain range and river of her life writ out. Her cold disillusionment was palpable, but by the time Asala begins to move more towards purpose and determination, we can see, with incredible clarity, every step that led up to it.

S.L. Huang was the only author featured in The Vela who I was completely unfamiliar with. Now that I’ve finished the novel, I’m keen on checking out her other works, because I can’t think of many other authors who are able to write war so poetically, but never romanticize it at any point. Nothing is ever glorified (as it should be, both in general and considering the themes of The Vela), but there’s something so silk-smooth and beautiful in the way she described battalions of ships on the horizon and the chaos of war as all of the parties scramble for a handhold. For a novel with a prominently anti-war sentiment, Huang’s prose served a valuable purpose—humanizing the consequences of war that many of the characters were unable to grasp, and writing it with such tact and heart that it bordered on poetry.

As a whole…what a timely novel, isn’t it? Surely, we couldn’t learn a thing or two from this world, where star systems and planets are being physically torn apart and destroyed because nobody considered that their enemies are also human…surely that’s not applicable to [checks notes] practically every issue we’re dealing with at the moment, no?

All in all, a seamless and cohesive sci-fi thriller that wonderfully harmonizes the unique talents of the authors that it displays. 4 stars!

The Vela is the first in an anthology series, followed by The Vela: Salvation, which features Nicole Givens Kurtz, Sangu Mandanna, Maura Milan, and Ashley Poston.

Today’s song:

my friend and I were discussing our favorite album intros last night, and they showed me this…they’re right on the money with this one (thanks!!)

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 (6/17/24) – Floating Hotel

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Old news: I’m desperate for good cozy sci-fi, and most of that desperation comes from the fact that nobody does it like Becky Chambers, but publishers will slap “perfect for Becky Chambers fans!” on literally any sci-fi book with a hint of several people crammed on a ship. It has to stop. Floating Hotel looked like it might actually live up to those expectations, but I was hesitant because I didn’t enjoy Grace Curtis’ debut, Frontier. But I’m glad I gave Floating Hotel a chance, because it was just what I needed!

Enjoy this week’s review!

Floating Hotel – Grace Curtis

The Grand Abeona Hotel knows no borders, no political affiliations, and no galaxy or planet to call home. But for many, the Grand Abeona is their home away from home—a safe haven where nobody cares who you are and why you’re here. Run by Carl, the aging manager who first came to the hotel as a stowaway, the Grand Abeona is home to a vibrant cast of characters, all of whom will have paths that will unexpectedly intersect. And as small mysteries begin piling up in the far corners of the Grand Abeona, Carl and the hotel’s misfit staff must pull the pieces together before the hotel itself is put in harm’s way.

TW/CW: death, torture (both offscreen), verbal abuse

In retrospect, there’s really no better book that I could have read on my Kindle, which has the Grand Budapest Hotel on the case. Some things were just meant to be.

I doubt anyone will ever top Becky Chambers in terms of cozy sci-fi, but Grace Curtis comes close—and that’s exactly why I’m so glad that I gave her another chance. Though it’s not without its mystery and relatively high-stakes subplots, Floating Hotel is a cup of tea for the soul: quiet, observant, and downright warm and charming.

My main issue with Frontier was that it promised action, but delivered next to nothing; it’s not that I don’t like books without action, but when your book’s tagline is “love, loss, and laser guns,” you kind of…have to deliver there, no? After reading Floating Hotel, it’s clear that quieter, cozy sci-fi is what Curtis was meant to write; aside from the rebellion subplot, which was relatively under-the-radar and wasn’t a major issue until the last 20% of the novel, this novel had comfortably low stakes. Although there was a fair amount of turmoil in the empire established in the world of Floating Hotel, you really do feel like the Grand Abeona is a safe haven from all of the ills of the galaxy. There, nobody cares who you are, so long as you have a story to tell.

Another issue with Frontier was that, with all of the characters and subplots it juggled, a lot of the plot points blended together, giving the reader little time to connect with anybody. If my leap from Frontier’s 2-star rating to my 4-star rating of Floating Hotel wasn’t indication enough, Curtis has significantly improved on that aspect of her writing in the space between the two novels! This novel similarly juggles a multitude of characters—many of whom only get one chapter in the vast sea of POVs—but all of them have a unique place in the story. None of the backstories or motivations felt forced, and all of them connected back to how the Grand Abeona has healed them as people; through all of their eyes, whether it’s a waitress, a piano player, or a professor visiting for a conference, you can see just how important of the Grand Abeona is as a safe haven. Floating Hotel is one of the few books with more than 10 (I think?) POVs that has truly worked for me, and it’s a combination of really being able to connect each one to the hotel and its story, and it incorporates other characters organically before we even get their POVs—the interconnectedness was so smooth that I didn’t mind the massive amount of voices displayed.

Curtis clearly understands the cozy part of cozy sci-fi that so many people who market books as “cozy” never seem to get—the near absence of stakes. For the majority of the novel, it’s a very down-to-earth, slice-of-life kind of plot where all of the mysteries are more humorous than troubling; I mean, one of the main subplots of the first half of the novel is trying to find the culprit of an anonymous admirer leaving love letters in the lobby index. And I ate it up. It’s just so gentle!! Is the fate of the galaxy at stake? Absolutely not! The hotel staff is just getting together once a week to watch terrible movies for nostalgia’s sake!! Peak cozy sci-fi right here, folks!! There are queer and disabled characters abound (WOOHOO!!), but neither homophobia nor ableism are plot points at all! They’re just going about their lives!! This is the stuff!!

What both Curtis and Becky Chambers get right about cozy sci-fi as well is that cozy doesn’t necessarily equal apolitical. In the background, there’s plenty of discussions of imperialism with the tyrannical empire crawling with shady cloning and nepotism (take a guess at how those two things tie together…). Curtis isn’t afraid to take stabs at capitalism, environmental destruction, xenophobia (I love the subplot about the empire banning media about aliens because it would compromise the perceived superiority of the human race), and so much more over the course of the novel, and it elevates it exponentially. It emphasizes another truth (for me, at least) about cozy sci-fi, and being a gentle person in general—cozy or quiet does not equal docile or unwilling to speak out about injustice. To quote IDLES, another bastion of kindness: “Ain’t no doormats here/It doesn’t mean you have to bow, or say “Your Highness”/Just kill ’em with kindness.”

All in all, a gentle and masterful piece of cozy sci-fi, and a marked improvement from Grace Curtis’ debut. Consider my faith in her writing restored! 4 stars!

Floating Hotel is a standalone, but Grace Curtis is also the author of Frontier.

Today’s song:

am I ashamed of listening to this on repeat while writing the third book in my sci-fi trilogy? absolutely not.

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 (4/23/24) – Ten Low

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Ten Low has been on my TBR for ages, but I just haven’t been able to find it anywhere, for some reason—not my library, not any bookstores I’ve been to around where I live…until, somehow, it turns out that the Barnes & Noble in my college town had it! Naturally, I got myself a copy, and it was worth the read—brutal and cinematic all at once.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Ten Low – Stark Holborn

Ten Low is stranded. After defecting from the war effort, she made a desperate escape to a planet where she thought no one could find her. But trouble has found her already, in the form of Gabriella Ortiz—an unseemly thirteen-year-old girl on the outside, but in reality, the next incarnation of the tyrannical General that Ten once served under. Neither of them want to face the realities of their involvement in the war, but they have no choice: outside forces want them both dead, and Ten and Gabi must endure a treacherous desert full of bloodthirsty Seekers and threats on all sides if they want to get out of this alive…

TW/CW: graphic violence, war themes, blood, gore, descriptions of corpses, torture, child soldiers

Like superhero fatigue, I feel like there’s a case to make among sci-fi fans for a very specific fatigue for desert planets. Star Wars and Dune set the blueprints, but ever since, they’ve been…everywhere. (Tatooine was good once, but…can somebody tell Disney that they could’ve just stopped at one or two desert planets?) Ten Low was one of the few books where I feel like there was an original spin on it—and a lot of aspects of this novel can be boiled down to the same things: seemingly plain plot elements that were twisted into something fascinating.

Back to the desert planet aspect…even though there are altogether too many of them and often without original components (or, again, just aspects that were lifted from Dune or Star Wars), but Ten Low really couldn’t have been set anywhere else. Nowhere else could the harshness of the obstacles facing Ten and Gabi could have been harsher, and nowhere else could their struggle have been more palpable. I didn’t go in knowing that Ten Low was something of a space Western, which made the desert feel all the more fitting for the genre. Holborn didn’t just fill the place with sand and leave it at that; the desert, along with its many inhabitants, felt like a real hurdle that the characters had to overcome and work around, and not just a place to signal science fiction. I can’t help it—I’m a sucker for when the setting is just as inhospitable as the hardships that the characters are experiencing. I just re-read The Left Hand of Darkness, you can’t fault me for that.

As with the oft-used desert planet, Ten Low has a common trope in space Westerns in particular—pairing a tough, hardened adult character with a child that they have to drag along. (Anybody heard of a little show called The Mandalorian? Pretty indie, I know.) I already like the trope as is, so I wouldn’t have a problem if there wasn’t necessarily the most original take on it, as long as the characters could each pull their emotional weight and make me feel invested in the story. But what do you do when said child is a thirteen-year-old embedded with the consciousness of a dead, fascist general? And you happen to have been a medic that defected from said general’s army after witnessing the litany of crimes committed under her tyrannical reign? I loved how complicated that relationship got—not just because there’s nothing more unsettling than a thirteen-year-old girl who’s quite literally a warmonger with a list of crimes that could circle the planet twice, but because of how their relationship developed. Through their trek through the desert, there’s no “forgive and forget” resolution—and I’m glad Holborn strayed away from that, given what the General did to Ten and everybody else—but the commonality that neither of them wanted to be in their situations made their relationship so much stronger, and also that both of them were subject to horrors beyond their control.

Ten Low moves fast, and had it not been for Holborn’s cinematic writing style, I would have probably gotten lost somewhere along the way. But Holborn’s writing thoroughly kept me grounded, and it enhanced my reading experience immensely. Like any Western, there’s a rapidly rotating cast of characters and all manner of foes along the treacherous road that Ten, Gabi, and the others had to travel; although I’ll say more about said rotating cast, what Holborn excelled at was the balance between action and character development. It’s a hard balance to hit, but there was enough down time between Ten getting out of horrific scrapes for the two protagonists to actually react, change, and strengthen their relationships. The fight scenes didn’t go on for extensive periods (although they easily could have), but the quieter, more character-driven moments didn’t dominate the narrative either.

However, I can’t say the same for the characters. I get that it’s a staple of Westerns in general to have a cast that constantly shifts and changes, but given that most of the characters that were introduced in Ten Low eventually came back in some way, shape, or form, it was kind of a handful to juggle every single one of their names and significances, especially since their first appearances were a flash in the pan. Not only did that make them difficult to keep track of, it dulled the emotional weight when we were supposed to mourn their deaths—somebody dies, and all I found myself thinking of was “wait, who was that again? Why do we care?” That being said, Holborn at least made them all colorful and at least fun while they had their brief moments in the spotlight—they were fun, but not much else, unfortunately. Ten and Gabi’s relationship was the centerpiece, and that’s exactly how it should have been.

All in all, a gritty, action-packed space Western with tropes turned on their heads in surprising—and incredibly entertaining—ways. 4 stars!

Ten Low is the first book in the Ten Low trilogy, followed by Hel’s Eight and the forthcoming Ninth Life. . Stark Holborn is also the author of the 12-book Nunslinger series, as well as the Triggernometry duology, which is set in the same universe.

Today’s song:

ALL BORN SCREAMING ON FRIDAY HHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH

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 (4/2/24) – Drunk on All Your Strange New Words

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Ever since it came out, Drunk on All Your Strange New Words has been on my radar; beforehand, I hadn’t even heard of Eddie Robson, but the premise was so fascinating that I just had to get my hands on it. After several trips to several bookstores with no luck in finding it, my hold finally came on Kindle—and it was a delight to read!

Enjoy this week’s review!

Drunk on All Your Strange New Words – Eddie Robson

For Lydia, First Contact started in the mind. The aliens we greeted were called the Logi, and they communicated entirely telepathically. Lydia works as a translator for a Logi cultural attaché named Fitz. It’s a pleasant job—Fitz is good-natured, and together, they pick apart plays and literature to determine if they are suited for intergalactic sales to the Logi. The unfortunate side effect is that translating the Logi’s telepathic language into English makes her feel drunk, earning her a less-than-stellar reputation on the job. But when Fitz is murdered and all eyes land on her as the suspect, Lydia must keep the police and Logi ambassadors off of her tail—and get to the bottom of Fitz’s murder.

TW/CW: xenophobia (fictional), murder/assassination, mild violence, death threats

I am on my hands and knees trying to find sci-fi with aliens that really feel alien. The quest is ongoing. But if you’re on that same quest with me (let us join hands, sisters in disappointed with humanoid aliens), Drunk on All Your Strange New Worlds is the cure for all that ails—all that and a dose of some good ol’ British humor.

I get to go off about aliens!! I GET TO GO OFF ABOUT ALIENS!! ALIENS WOOOOOOOOOOO THIS IS WHAT I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR

First off: the Logi! Drunk on All Your Strange New Words boasts some incredible alien design and culture, and I had so much fun exploring it throughout the novel. The whole concept of telepathic aliens whose speech makes the act of translation make humans feel drunk was already fascinating to me; it was so out of left field, and a concept I’d never really considered before; the only other instance I’ve seen of alien speech having unintended physical effects on the human body or brain was in A Desolation Called Peace (though that was arguably more drastic), but it still felt truly weird, which a lot of sci-fi doesn’t touch on, strangely. I loved getting such a complex, multilayered picture of the Logi beyond that, from the head coverings they wear to protect from Earth’s atmosphere to their unexpected strength; some of the elements of them almost veered into the supernatural (technically not much of a spoiler since it happens early on, but the reveal was so cool to me that I’ll keep my mouth shut for your enjoyment), but even that felt like a marker of an alien well done—so outlandish that the only explanation that humans can come up with is paranormal.

Creating all of that excellent background for the Logi is one thing, but it wasn’t all left as a lofty concept to puff up the worldbuilding—it had real, tangible effects on the characters and the plot, which I was so grateful for. Robson executed the real-time effects of humans interacting with a lot of these alien behaviors exceedingly well! It isn’t just that Lydia feels like she’s had a few too many after a long translation job—the feeling of drunkenness extends to drunken behaviors, the consequences of which had unfortunate implications for keeping said job. Having that was also a great device to start putting Lydia under suspicion for the other characters—there were enough instances of perceived instability or unprofessional attitudes that the authorities had all the more evidence to implicate her in Fitz’s murder. This is all to say that Robson really left no stone unturned when it came to the worldbuilding, and my enjoyment skyrocketed because of that!

The cultural environment around First Contact and the integration of the Logi into human culture also felt a little too real, in the best and worst way possible. At this point, the world has advanced into an undefined point in the future, and enough time has passed between now and First Contact that there aren’t just bigots and zealots with xenophobic intention, but organizations targeting aliens and professors giving whole lectures on what they perceive as a Logi encroachment into human culture, literature, and media. Paired with the faulty software that scores the truthfulness of the news that Lydia consumes (that aspect felt very “three days from now”), it felt like a more realistic depiction of alien contact and communication than we usually get; at heart, we still fear what we don’t understand, but it’s neither all-out annihilation of the aliens nor a global, complete hippie kumbaya event of unity. It’s demonstrative of human nature in the face of what we don’t understand: the bad and the very ugly, but enough good to keep us afloat and on good terms with the visitors from another world.

For most of the novel, I was really into the mystery surrounding Fitz’s murder. (I knew it was gonna happen from the start, since, y’know, in the blurb, but I didn’t want for him to die. I just wanna see the little alien guys!! Let them vibe!!) The slow burn of it kept me turning page after page, and for most of the novel, felt appropriately paced. It didn’t feel like we were jumping from place to place for no reason—every outing had a motive and revelation that added to the mystery in a way that made sense. However, though I enjoyed much of it, I feel like it got a little too slow-burn. The subtlety was good for most of the novel, but it got to a point where I was 90% of the way through the book and we still had no idea who the killer was and who the prime suspect was, now that most of the others had been eliminated by that point. Said killer was also introduced very late into the novel and quite sparingly, which made the reveal feel unearned—if we’ve spent all this time poring through suspects and barely touched on the actual killer, then what was the point? For such a clever novel, that felt like such an amateurish move—the only reason that we didn’t suspect them was because we had no idea who they even were for almost the entire novel.

All in all, a delightful combination of sci-fi and murder mystery that boasted some of my favorite aliens that I’ve read in a while. 4 stars!

Drunk on All Your Strange New Words is a standalone, but Eddie Robson is also the author of Hearts of Oak.

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 (3/26/24) – The Cybernetic Tea Shop

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

There’s a special place in my heart dedicated to cozy sci-fi, but the sad thing about it is that hardly anybody does it well save for Becky Chambers. I guess it’s hard to reach the bar when it’s been set astronomically high (no pun intended), but I will still read any cozy sci-fi that comes my way, despite the amount of times that the blurb “for fans of Becky Chambers!” has severely led me astray. However, in the midst of my reading slump, The Cybernetic Tea Shop was the perfect novella to tide me over and lift my spirits.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Cybernetic Tea Shop – Meredith Katz

After the death of her master, Sal, an autonomous robot operating outside of the laws of a futuristic America, runs the tea shop that her master founded. For hundreds of years, she has run it like a well-oiled machine, but something in her program seeks something more. When Clara, an AI technician struggling to make ends meet, walks into Sal’s tea shop by chance, they have an instant spark of friendship—and perhaps even something more. Is Clara what Sal needed all along, and is Sal the key to the similarly vacant space in Clara’s heart?

TW/CW: loss of loved ones (past)/discussions of grief, hate crimes/discrimination (sci-fi)

Since about 2021, I’ve lost count of the amount of times that the tagline “for fans of Becky Chambers!” has let me down. Nobody does cozy sci-fi like her; all of the times I’ve read books with that promise, you get some semblance of found family (which comes off rather forced, in the worst instances), but it often lacks the quiet, tender moments that put the cozy prefix in. However, in that respect, I’m glad to say that The Cybernetic Tea Shop wasn’t a letdown—not without its flaws, for sure, but more than enough to scratch my never-ending cozy sci-fi itch.

I’ve been in a very novella-centered headspace for months, given that I’m trying to write one for class and I’ve been studying how they work for said class as well. One of the foremost concerns we’ve been talking about is how much worldbuilding you can fit into such a small space—often 100 pages or less. The key, I’ve learned, is, after giving your reader the necessary context to make the world feel real, is to only expand on the parts that are essential to understanding the circumstances of your characters. Katz did an excellent job of establishing this kind of worldbuilding, and it speaks to what a novella can achieve in such a small page count! Inevitably, I found myself wanting more of the futuristic American setting that Katz built, but the context we get is only what we need to understand Sal: the creation of intelligent robots, the outlawing of said robots because of ethical complications with intelligence, and the discrimination and illegality of robots in the centuries since. It’s the perfect foundation to set up not just the world, but the conflicts that these characters encounter.

Cozy sci-fi, by nature, often keeps things small; a handful of characters, a singular setting, and all else happening in the background. Novellas, also by nature, typically scale it down as well. The Cybernetic Tea Shop only centers around two characters, but that’s all it really needs; this novella is small in every aspect, and that’s why it largely succeeded. By narrowing down two characters (and their budding romance) and a single, unique setting, Katz confined her world to reasonable limits to explore in a novella; nothing ever felt too convoluted or too large to fit into just over 100 pages, but it didn’t feel too sparse, either. Similarly, aside from the character-driven focus (also the backbone of cozy sci-fi), there’s hardly any plot points, and that was actually a strength of The Cybernetic Tea Shop—in terms of structure, it was practically a Goldilocks of novellas.

However, although the general craft of the novella was commendable, the writing left a lot to be desired. For such a fascinating world and two characters moving through it in a unique way, I wanted so much more from the writing. The prose was rather bare-bones, doing the bare minimum to describe a setting or situation. I wanted so many more descriptions—and genuinely interesting descriptions— of Sal’s tea shop; you can do so many fun things with a tea shop, but I hardly got a sense for what it looked like, what it smelled like, or any other kind of sensory details. Similarly, the dialogue, although it had moments of being sweet, was often bland and stiff, and felt transactional in terms of the prose—just a way to get from point A to point B. Given that the romance between Clara and Sal was what eventually drove the novella, transactional dialogue is the exact opposite of what The Cybernetic Tea Shop needed; the kind of romance that Katz was shooting for wanted to be anything but transactional, but ended up falling flat.

In addition, I found myself wanting more from the characters. Again: cozy sci-fi is a heavily character-driven subgenre, and the evolving relationships between the characters are what make the plot go forward, and not necessarily outside conflict. I did like that Katz only zoomed in on Clara and Sal, but I almost wish that the novella had been all from Sal’s perspective. We get a very detailed and nuanced vision of Sal’s character, from her grieving her long-dead master to her insecurities and fears about being in hiding as an autonomous robot. Clara, on the other hand, was given very little of the same treatment; I would have liked to have seen her have some kind of romantic hurdle to overcome—commitment issues, hesitance, or something along those lines—that would make her something more than just a tool to instigate romance. We did get some of her background, but it didn’t add to much about her in terms of personality—the only part of her character that paired her with Sal was that she’s an AI technician, and therefore in a place to help Sal. With the focus on two characters, it would do Katz a favor to give both of them the fleshing-out that they deserve.

That being said, although Clara’s characterization left a lot to be desired, I did like the more romantic aspect of the plot towards the end of the novella. Even beyond the super sweet asexual/wlw representation (both Sal and Clara are asexual and sapphic!), there was a lot about the romance that worked; the setup of Clara fixing Sal’s programming evolving into cuddling was such an adorable and genius setup, and the resolution that came from it was similarly heartwarming. It did feel slightly rushed, but aside from that, Katz left it in a place where I didn’t quite want more, but was satisfied in knowing that their relationship was bound to blossom. I wanted something cute, and I got something cute, so Katz 100% succeeded on that front!

All in all, a tender, cozy novella with sweet romance and tight structure, but bland prose and half-baked characterizations. 3.5 stars!

The Cybernetic Tea Shop is a standalone, but Meredith Katz is the author of several other novels for adults, including the Pandemonium series (The Cobbler’s Soleless Son, Behind Bars, Heir to the Throne, and Barred Souls), the Sixth Sense Investigations series (Empty Vessels and If Wishes Were Fishes), and many more.

Today’s song:

shoutout to chelsea wolfe for playing this before her show. hauntingly beautiful.

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 (11/28/23) – Hunger Makes the Wolf

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Hunger Makes the Wolf came on my radar when I was looking for more books with disability rep (as always), but I ended up buying it on my Kindle after my dad notified me that I had some unused Kindle points (thank you for reminding me!)—it was free with the points added on, so how could I resist? And while Hunger Makes the Wolf wasn’t perfect, it’s a ton of gunslinging, space-fantasy fun.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Hunger Makes the Wolf (The Ghost Wolves, #1) – Alex Wells

Hob Ravani ekes out a living in the deserts of Tanegawa’s World, a planet owned by TransRifts—the corporation who controls the market on interstellar travel in the whole galaxy. For 10 years, Hob has gotten by with the help of the Ghost Wolves, a group of bandits roaming the desert and finding money where they can. But when Hob discovers the body of Nick, the man who recruited her to join the Wolves, abandoned in the desert, she knows that she has to act before TransRifts discovers their operation—and discovers the powers that she’s kept hidden from sight.

TW/CW: murder, descriptions of injuries, descriptions of corpses, violence, loss of loved ones, human experimentation

Writing accents phonetically is a slippery slope that I’m not going to get fully into in this review. In this case, though, Alex Wells had decent success with making everyone who was meant to sound like they had a Southern accent actually sound like they had a Southern accent, which worked—this novel was a space Western, after all. That being said, the unintended consequence was that Wells’ spelling of Hob’s accent was that I imagined her voice more like Holly Hunter in Raising Arizona than the badass, hardened gunslinger that she was made out to be. It sort of worked, though.

As far as sci-fi subgenres go, I’m not usually huge on space Westerns; I’ve rarely seen them done exceedingly well (even The Mandalorian got more than a little repetitive eventually), but the best are at least fun. And that was what Hunger Makes the Wolf was—incredibly fun. It had all of the trappings of a debut novel, but what Wells did get right on the first time was that pacing. Although the action sequences were what made Hunger such a blast to read in the best parts, Wells also knew how to balance them out with quiet, more emotional moments, and also moments to slip in worldbuilding without absolutely walloping you with it. Wells’ action was really the star of the show here; their fight scenes had just the right amount of tension, levity, and butt-kicking to make for more than one delightful scene.

Recently, I’ve read several sci-fi books that were marketed as “space fantasy,” and none of them have really fit the bill. And yet, Hunger Makes the Wolf wasn’t necessarily marketed as such, but it does what the other novels lacked. Even amidst the classic sci-fi backdrop of corporate greed, massive spaceships, and gruesome human experimentation, there’s the element of the characters’ strange hidden powers. Naming said powers “witchiness” was already a win in my book, the charm of it really fits the Western atmosphere that Wells was going for—it hits that sweet spot of not sounding overly jargon-y or formal, but not too hokey, either. Every time one of the characters mentioned it, I couldn’t help but smile—especially in Hob’s aforementioned Holly Hunter voice.

Hunger Makes the Wolf is an incredibly ambitious novel, and the ambition is accentuated when you remember that this is Alex Wells’ debut. In some ways, it worked; Wells managed to juggle a safe amount of the worldbuilding without leaving the reader without context, but also without dumping it excessively. However, what Wells did not juggle as well was the sheer amount of characters that we jump between. Hunger was clearly meant to have a found family theme to it, which I’m normally a sucker for, but Wells just had so many extraneous characters on their hands that none of the character relationships felt fleshed out. If we had gotten more scenes with Hob and the rest of the Wolves, for instance, I would have believed that they really were as thick as thieves. Adding onto this, the perspective switches may not have been necessary; Mags, although she plays a prominent role, doesn’t have a perspective or voice that added anything substantial to the narrative. It’s a classic debut author case: Alex Wells had some spot-on ideas, but they bit off far more than they could chew.

All in all, a rollicking space fantasy with action aplenty, but with characters that left me wanting more. 3.5 stars!

Hunger Makes the Wolf is the first book in the Ghost Wolves duology, followed by Blood Binds the Pack. Hunger was Alex Wells’ debut novel; they are also the author of the short story Angel of the Blockade.

Today’s song:

FARGO IS BACK I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH OH MY GOOOOOOOD

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 Japan—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 unique—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 going—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 Ceremony—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 twofold—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 Japan—a country that she’s barely been to—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 favor—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 (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 novel—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 – Yōko 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 disappearing—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 existence—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 characters—save for the main character’s editor, referred to only as ‘R’ in this translation—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 haunting—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 mistake—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 obvious—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 that—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 die—they always stay with us. It’s a beautiful message on loss, and about resistance in general—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 across—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 Yōko 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!