I’ve been very interested in this book since I heard that it features an asexual protagonist and Native American legends, but I won’t lie: a major part of my decision to get it sooner than later was the fact that it’s illustrated. I have a weakness for pretty books and the hardcover is nicer and better quality than most special editions.
And of course, it’s also well worth a read – even if it was admittedly a poor fit for me at the time.
Time for another mini review post to clear out my backlog a bit!
While it’s true that in the past few months the most I managed to finish was the occasional novella or romance book, I found some really, really good ones. If anyone else is looking for shorter (all except Slippery Creatures are novellas) or lighter reads, here are some I’d suggest.
Another in the series of mini review posts, this time focused on three novellas I finished recently. Novellas make fantastic palate cleansers, but I find I’m rarely able to write a full length review for books this short, so it makes more sense to group them like this. I couldn’t not review them.
Either way! Onto the books themselves. Coincidentally, m/m relationships seem like a common theme with those three.
ARC received from the published (Tachyon) in exchange for an honest review.
They were birds of bright fire that fell from the sky and cocooned me, until I could see and hear nothing except the warmth and the feathers enveloping me and the threads of the wind singing each to each until my whole skin was ignited by the sun, my body changing and changed by the malleable flame.
I have been familiar with R.B. Lemberg’s works for a while – Geometries of Belonging and Grandmother-nai-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds (which should preferably be read before reading this book) are two of those short stories that stuck with me long after I read them. So when Erio brought The Four Profound Weaves to my attention, highly recommending it, I knew that sooner or later, I will end up reading it. Queer books with lovely prose are precisely my kind of thing.
It was bad luck to name a daughter after the thing that first sparked the gleam, Mama said. So I was Iris, for a flower that wasn’t hibiscus, and my sister was Malina, for a raspberry. They were placeholder names that didn’t pin down our true nature, so nothing would ever be able to summon us. No demon or vila would ever reel us in by our real names.
I have a lot of conflicted feelings about Wicked Like a Wildfire. The first half (roughly) was wonderful – gorgeous prose, languid, slice of life kind of pace, plus I have never read a fantasy book set in an ex-Yu country before. The last half I liked…less. The ending, the least. And I think it’s a damn shame.
I have thought this novella was just what I wanted. Something short, something warm, something familiar, right? I didn’t expect it’d be so sad – much sadder than the other Wayward Children novellas so far – but then, I read Every Heart a Doorway, I should have.
At eight years old, Katherine Lundy already knew the shape of her entire life. Could have drawn it on a map if pressed: the long highways of education, the soft valleys of settling down. She assumed, in her practical way, that a husband would appear one day, summoned out of the ether like a necessary milestone, and she would work at the library while he worked someplace equally sensible, and they would have children of their own, because that was how the world was structured.
Unfortunately, it also suffered from pacing issues.
ARC received from the publisher (Del Rey) on Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
I won’t lie, it was the cover that made me request the ARC (look at it!). 1920s Mexico is not a setting I’ve seen before either, I’m a sucker for mythological fantasy…in short, I was intrigued. And I can now safely say I did not regret it – if you like the idea of it too, it’s definitely worth a read.
Some people are born under a lucky star, while others have their misfortune telegraphed by the position of the planets. Casiopea Tun, named after a constellation, was born under the most rotten star imaginable in the firmament. She was eighteen, penniless, and had grown up in Uukumil, a drab town where mule-drawn railcars stopped twice a week and the sun scorched out dreams.
I almost forgot what it was like to be completely immersed in a book – or to read a book in one day because you could just not let it go. After a few disappointments in a row, this was badly needed. I don’t normally read UF. I don’t even remember who first recommended it to me and why did I TBR it. But I’m so, so glad I did.
She wanted a drink. She wanted to kiss a boy. She wanted that boy to put his hands all over her. She wanted to drive like a maniac, and pick fights with other boys’ girlfriends, and with other boys. She wanted to spray-paint something rude on the water tower in nearby Mallard Creek. Instead, she was on her ass in bed, her leg assimilated by the Borg and her head numb and fuzzy. The Bronwynator had left the building.
I received an ARC of this book from the publisher (Del Rey) on Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
Equal parts comfortingly familiar and fresh, The Winter of the Witch is a fitting conclusion to one of my favourite series. I admit it took me a bit longer to get into it than the other two – the scope grows larger, epic, the events concerning not just Vasya and her family, but the fate of all of Russia. Regardless, when it started coming together I could not put it down.
Somewhere, perhaps, there was an answer, somewhere there were secrets of magic beyond the setting of fires, the seeing of chyerti. One day, perhaps, she would learn them, in far countries, beneath wilder skies.
(quote taken from the ARC, subject to change upon publication)
I have had this book lying on my shelf since February – I even preordered it. I have no idea why it took me nearly a year to get around to it, because it turned out to be wonderful. Even gave me a bit of a book high, a rare and precious thing.
“I do not know what you should choose. Every time you take one path, you must live with the memory of other: of a life left unchosen. Decide as seems best, one course or the other; each way will have its bitter with its sweet.”