I read A Conjuring of Light

This week's novel is A Conjuring of Light by V.E. Schwab.  This is the final book in the Shades of Magic trilogy, which includes A Darker Shade of Magic and A Gathering of Shadows.

When darkness from Black London makes its way into Kell's world, where it possesses the citizens of London and rots away the infrastructure, the team has to join forces to stop it.

I had some trouble starting this one, and I've been thinking about why.

As is the way with trilogies, the first book is a self-contained story that was easily extended, and the second book ended on a cliff hanger.  So while the action of the second book picked up a few months after the events of the first book, the third book picks up only moments after the end of the second.  That means that starting the third book, you're thrown straight into the super-high-stakes, dramatic action.

I wouldn't say that the first two started lighthearted, but the stakes started low and built up as the books went along.  There was a lot of fun world building and showing off wondrous new places.  Most of the second book revolved around a magic tournament, where, although each character was wrestling with internal demons and there were stakes for everyone, the stakes weren't world ending and it was mostly fun fight scenes and big parties.  It was fun, with the over-arching plot of the series only really popping up at the very end. 

In the third book, there was no light-hearted, good times, lookit this magic!  It started off grim, when the parts I remember enjoying about the rest of the series was the fun.

It started grim and then kept going for the most part, but I love all these characters so much that I don't care.  Every single one of them is great, and I was invested in every one of them.  That might be another reason why I wish there was more fun swashbuckling and less EVERYTHING IS AWFUL AND WE'RE SCREWED: I want them to have fun.

It's a great series, and you should check it out.  And the good news is that since the whole thing is out, you can read straight through and the third-book-drama won't be an issue.

***

Next week:  A Flame in the Mist, Japanese inspired YA fantasy by Renee Ahdieh.

I read When Dimple Met Rishi

This week's novel is When Dimple Met Rishi by Sandhya Menon.  This was a Goodread's Reader's Choice Awards nominee and on NPR's list of best books of 2017.

Dimple and Rishi are first generation Indian-Americans.  While Rishi embraces Indian culture and his parents' vision for his future (including marrying a nice Indian girl that they pick out for him), Dimple is more Americanized and pushes back against her parents.  She really doesn't like her mother's misogyny, especially when it comes to agreeing the let her go to Stanford, not because it has a great computer science program, but because it's full of nice Indian engineers for her to marry.  Dimple is very excited when her parents agree to let her go to the exclusive, intensive app programing summer camp of her dreams, but it turns out it was all a big set up for her to meet Rishi.  Rishi assumed her parents would have told her about the whole arranged marriage thing that their parents had set up, but he's wrong.  There's a lot of awkwardness to deal with.

I liked how this book showed that there are different ways to be a first generation America.  It's not a universal experience, even if their parents are from the same culture.  But I also liked how at the same time it showed that Dimple and Rishi have similarities.  The neatest part of the book for me was when Rishi offers her some khatta meetha, and she's like "Those are my favorite snacks!" and eats whole handfuls of them right after having a conversation about how much she hates her parents pushing Indian culture on her.  It's pretty charming.

But along the same lines, there's a moment I did not like at all.  There's another Indian-American kid at the camp, whose name is Hari and pronounces it Harry.  And Dimple tells him that he's wrong and his name is Hari.

...Excuse me?

I think he knows how to pronounce his own name.  However he chooses to pronounce it is his choice, and it is not okay to be rude to anyone about their name of choice.  If he uses an Anglicized version, that is part of his personal journey and his personal relationship to the culture in which he lives and the culture his parents are from, and that journey is none of her business.  She can say, "My parents would pronounce that Hari," or "In India, that's pronounced Hari."  And it's irritating, because this not only is this coming from Dimple, who for the most part (as I said) would rather not with being Indian, so this defensiveness of "true Indianness" is weird.  It's annoying because one of the big themes of the book is policing who's Indian enough.  And it's also annoying because Hari is a pretty awful dude for a slew of legitimate reasons, but his "mispronouncing his own name to look cool" is presented like it's supposed to be further evidence against him being a good person.  It's presented like the reader's supposed to say, "Geeze!  What a tool!"  But there's enough evidence already that shows that he sucks, and making me think instead that the main character sucks and giving me a moment to sympathize with him doesn't help the story.

***

Next week:  A Conjuring of Light, the last book of the Shades of Magic series by V.E. Schwab.

I read "A Visit From the Goon Squad"

This week's novel is A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan.  This was recommended to me by my friend Eric.

This is a series of interconnected stories that follow the people around Bennie Salazar, as his fame as a record producer rises and falls, and the people around Sasha, his kleptomaniac assistant.  The focus shifts from chapter to chapter, passing through Bennie's band mates in high school, his mentor Lou and his family, Bennie's ex-wife and ex-wife's ex-boss, and through Sasha's family and friends.  It skips around in time from the seventies to the near future where music has to be made to appeal to 6-month-olds who by songs by poking at their parent's phones.  While each story focuses on a single moment, all together, you can get a sense of how the characters rise and fall over time, and how time changes everything.

While some of the individual chapters are amazing by themselves--I especially like the first chapter where Sasha explains to her therapist how she stole a woman's wallet while on a date, where the pull to steal things was presented in such a way as to make it both relatable and tragic--the part I got the most out of was how different each chapter was.  You get an immediate sense of the main character of each story by how the style changes.  There's a definite voice to each chapter and it comes through as the voice of the character rather than the voice of the author.

The one everyone talks about is the power point chapter, which I was pleasantly surprised not only by what a quality power point it was (I'm picky about good power point presentations) but also how easy it was to follow without the aid of the speaker who would be filling in the gaps and details when only the main points were presented on the slides.  It worked really well to tell a layered story and I honestly haven't seen that done before. 

But I feel like focusing on that chapter downplays how unique each of the other chapters were.  There's one in the second person because the narrator is high and detached and sort of narrating what he's doing to himself.  There's a whacky comedy of errors where a disgraced publicist tries to improve the image of a foreign dictator.  There's an interview with a movie star that you know from previous chapters is going to end poorly.  And aside from the form, there's the voice and the deep dives into each character's fears and ticks: kleptomania and extreme embarrassment remembering that thing you did twelve years ago, not wanting your husband to know how great you are at tennis at the country club but not wanting to lie about it, being your true "authentic" self, and not wanting anyone to know you sold out.  The versatility is impressive.

***
Next week: When Dimple Met Rishi, YA romance by Sandhya Menon

The Last One Review

This week's novel is The Last One by Alexandra Oliva.  I heard about this one because it was nominated as a Goodreads choice award nominee for 2017 in science fiction.  I have problems with the science fiction label, but that's not anywhere near the point.

Twelve contestants go on a wilderness survival reality show, where part of the way through an epidemic hits the country.  Or does it?  Maybe it's part of the show.  The production company is infamous for their last reality show where they used props and special effects to create a volcano, and this show has a $100 million budget.  The only way off the show is to ask to leave by using a safe word, and he show is said to be about finding the contestants' breaking points, and the host makes it clear the contestants don't know everything that's happening.  But then again...the dead body special effects are very good.

This book is upsetting.  You may know how much I like books about reality shows, and I liked this book.  But it was upsetting.  I came to the end, and even though it had been clear for a couple chapters how it would end, I got to the last line and started crying.  In retrospect, I think it's because the tension was finally released.

The structure of this book makes it work.  There are alternating chapters between an omniscient point of view that mostly follows the episodes that air, and chapters from the first person perspective of "Zoo" (which is what the producers have nickname one of the contestants, who is a zoologist).  With the first person chapters, we see what Zoo knows and follow how she makes sense of what she's seeing, starting a few days into a solo challenge while she walks mile after mile through abandoned towns.  With the omniscient chapters we see how the producers are cutting the events together and warping the narrative, and we get to meet the other contestants.  Knowing that the producers arranged tricks and props and actors to mess with the contestants adds weight to the theory that it's all part of the show.  (It's also fun to see all the work the production assistants and the editor and camera operators do.). While the first person chapters show us how Zoo is rationalizing everything and why she keeps going.  It personalizes the journey.

And there were several times when I had to stop and say, "Wait.  Is this real?"  I wasn't sure for a long time.  I was hoping it was all part of the game for the sake of Zoo and for the sake of humanity, and also because that would have made my horrible, popcorn popping self cackle at the evilness this production company put Zoo through for my entertainment.  Zoo thinks of episodes of misadventures as Challenges.  The Rabid Coyote Challenge.  The Marauders Challenge.  And she thinks of her good luck as rewards for doing well on those challenges.  The Abandoned Camping Gear Store Reward.  She gives everything a cause and effect.  She believes things are planned and people are watching her and if things get too bad a production assistant will appear with a med team.  And she believes she has an out: if she says the code word, she'll be done and it'll all stop and she can go home.  But at the same time, she doesn't say it, because she can take it.  Or maybe she's not saying it because she thinks it's not part of the show and doesn't want that coping mechanism taken from her.  She wants to stay in denial.

But my favorite part of the book was how deftly the omniscient point of view was used.  It was great.  It tells us that a contestant was thinking something harsh, but because they were trying to go for Fan Favorite, they said something more reasonable, to which a different contestant responded and  third contestant said something snarky, which was later removed by the editor.  It shows what the host is doing just before contestants make it to the finish line and how the contestants react on finding out they're last, and how the producers cheer that those contestants' coming in last will set up drama that the viewers will eat up, and then what the viewers think about the challenge and what they write online about it in the comments section.  It moves organically and gives an image of what's happening that feels complete.

But this also gets into my least favorite part of the book, which is that these omnicisent sections are male gaze-y and weirdly racist.  These sections refer to the contestants only by their nicknames, which include "Asian Chick" and "Black Doctor."  (There are no other doctors.)  These sections linger on the women bending over or drinking water, because the show lingers on these moments.  They are almost in the producer's voice, but not from his point of view.  So it's a statement about the people making this show, but, again, it's not explicitly from anyone's point of view.  And I don't have to enjoy something that's problematic even if it's an accurate reflection of a point of view.

***
Next week: A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan.

Illuminae Review

This week's novel is Illuminae, YA sci-fi by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff.  You may recall that I really liked These Broken Stars by Kaufman and Meagan Spooner, so I've had this one on my Kindle for a while and held back because the file makes it look really long.  Turns out this is an illusion arising from the file format, and I read the whole thing in about a day and a half.

This is in the form of a dossier, and the story is presented as a series of e-mails, After Action Reports, Wiki pages, chat logs, audio transcripts, and descriptions of surveillance videos.  Through these, we see the tragedy of [PLACE], an illegal mining colony on the outer rim of the universe.  They are attacked by a rival corporation, massacring thousands of men, women, and children.  They are rescued by a military cruiser that happens to be in the area, but instead of retreating when the military shows up, the rival corporation ships decide to fire on the military. The now damaged and overpopulated military ship rescues about 5000 refugees, and without faster than light drive, they have to travel six months to the nearest jump gate with the (also damaged) last rival corporation warship chasing them to eliminate all witnesses. 

I'm always impressed when epistolary stories manage to convey tension, and boy howdy, this one was intense.  The hits just keep coming and as soon as one problem gets a band aid on it, another problem crops up, usually within the same section.  The AI is broken and starts making questionable decisions, then there's a virus that breaks out, and then another thing and another.  The hits just kept coming, making it difficult to put down.  There's always a conflict and always a countdown clock. 

Another reason I think this works is that every section has a strong voice from whoever's writing the e-mail or writing the descriptions of surveillance videos.  Sometimes it's almost too strong.  But there's rarely a point where information is given without an obvious human filter, and that emotional connection makes a difference during tense evacuation procedures.

It's also surprisingly formatted.  E-mails from different ships have different headers and type faces.  There are illustrations and schematics.  During the space battles, when I suspect it would be the hardest to tell what's happening while also maintaining tension, it just doesn't try and instead turns it into a cool artsy moment, where you get the mood of the battle without the authors having to do a blow by blow.  It's really great, so I don't want to get too into it so you can be impressed if you want to read it.  It technically breaks the found-document format, but I was invested and it had a cool factor, so I didn't care.

Of course, this meant there were times that it was hard to read on my ancient Kindle.  I read the whole thing rotated 90 degrees so the text would be bigger, and there are times when the AI is talking that the gray scale doesn't work, so this might be a good one to read from a hard copy.

But A+.  Will read the sequels.

***

Next week: ???

Dreamer's Pool Review

This week’s novel is Dreamer’s Pool by Juliet Marillier.  My mom, the prolific fantasy reader, recommended this one to me.

Blackthorn and Grim are imprisoned in a corrupt chieftain’s prison when a fey offers Blackthorn a chance to escape provided she goes North to a specific village, takes a position as their wise woman (which is like a healer), and never denies anyone when they ask for help.  The two escape and head north and find a mystery: the overly romantic Prince Oran has been corresponding with the girl his parents have arrange for him to marry and he’s completely smitten.  But when she arrives, she doesn’t act like she did in the letters, and there’s the strong whiff of something magical and sinister about the whole situation.

This book alternates point of view between Blackthorn, Grim, and Oran, and I have to say I was way more invested in Oran’s story than anyone else’s.  His situation with his betrothed was creep-tastic, with a bunch of little, weird clues that something was amiss that it just rubbed the wrong way and made me suspicious and invested.  I wanted to know what was happening so much I almost looked it up.  I almost texted my mom to ask, making use of multiple interabangs.  Is she a changeling?!  Did she body swap with the dog?!  Is she a water monster?!  Is Oran just a big dummy?!  What’s her goal here?! 

I’m a little disappointed that Oran didn’t put Blackthorn on the case until 2/3rds of the way through, but that was more surprising when I noticed it than a sense that the pacing was off.

I also appreciated that Blackthorn was so bristly and hated everybody and had to actively try to be polite.  Being sociable is hard, and her pain—although extreme—was relatable.  And even though she’s clever, she lets her prejudices affect her better judgement.  She’s a great, flawed character.

(In comparison, I pictured Oran as the prince from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The one who keeps trying to burst into song.  So that’s also fun.)

***

Next Week: Illuminae, epistolary YA Sci-Fi by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff

Bunnicula Review

This week’s novel is Bunnicula: A Rabbit Tale of Mystery, middle grade “horror” by James and Deborah Howe.  I heard about this one on the Overdue Podcast.  I’ve been reading a lot of heavy, depressing books lately, which haven’t made it onto the blog because I’ve been not finishing them or just taking a really long time with them, so I felt that something short and goofy was in order.

The story is told by Harold, the family dog.  One night, the family comes back from the movies with a bunny that they found at the theater and promptly adopted.  Since they found the bunny at a showing of Dracula and since the rabbit has odd markings that make it look like it’s wearing a cape, they name it Bunnicula.  But little do the humans know how apt the name is.  Bunnicula sleeps during the day, then magically slips out of its cage at night, opens the refrigerator, and (dun dun dun!) sucks the juices out of vegetables.  Chester, the family cat, suspects the rabbit is up to no good, and sets out to solve the mystery and stop Bunnicula.

This is written in the style of a Sherlock Holmes book in a lot of ways.  Chester is the smart one, who figures out that Bunnicula is a vampire, and he has to explain everything to Harold, our narrator who idolizes Chester and is mostly documenting Chester’s logical leaps.  It’s very much the relationship of Holmes and Watson.  The language and sentence structure also remind me of Doyle (which I admittedly haven’t read in a while).  There’s something formal in the prose and the descriptions.  It’s neat that it works in a children’s book and it adds to the atmosphere, to the mystery and suspense.

Most importantly, I appreciate how the stakes are incredibly low, yet the prose creates suspense.  This is a trope that I really like, because you get swept up in how Harold and Chester are taking the situation so seriously and they are so invested that the reader buys into that investment, but the (adult) reader can easily pull out of the narrative and chuckle that everyone is taking treating it like life or death when it Definitely. Does. Not. Matter.  Usually, I wouldn’t like being thrown out of the narrative, but this is an exception for me.  It’s built in such a way that some meta narrative is intended. 

I’m not sure how this is accomplished.  There aren’t moments of the book winking at the reader, no nudging and going “Get it?  Get it?  This is silly.”  Maybe the short chapters give adults moments for reflection?  Maybe the drama is so over the top as to frighten children, but make adults laugh?  How does that work?  I HAVE QUESTIONS.

***

Next week: Dreamer’s Pool, fantasy and mystery by Juliet Marillier.