Valerie

I picked this one up at the library to celebrate Banned Books Month. I've read a bit of Murakami in the past, so I expected some weirdness, and I was right to expect it. This book is an Oedipal myth, and it gets very mythy with talking cats, personality displacement, and portals to pocket dimensions. I couldn't see the exact reason why it was banned, but probably </spoiler>statutory sex scenes with people who may be mother/son</spoiler> but it could also be the fact that it features a trans man who is particularly nuanced and treated like a human being by basically every character. You just never know with book banners.

My husband often asks me if I'm liking whatever I'm reading, and I often found that questions hard to answer with this one. This book is profoundly uncomfortable and occasionally horrific. It's also Murakami, so there's a great deal I probably need four or five re-reads to interpret. Did I like it? Kind of? When I wasn't horrified? It's hard to explain. I had similar feelings after 1Q84. I like reading Murakami, though, because it really makes my literary interpreter brain kick into gear. Even when I don't understand points of the story, I enjoy thinking about them and why they are there. This book made me think about Japanese civilians in WWII, Greek Mythology, classical music, poetry, libraries as memories, memories as libraries, why people help others, capitalism, philosophy, and lots more, so it felt worth my time. That said, definitely check out some trigger warnings before reading this one.

I ended up pretty mixed on this one. At first, I was really bored. The lawful neutral protagonist who can't get a clue in a dystopia that just didn't make any sense. <spoiler>You want the human race to survive by both training women for war and also relegating them to a breeding harem? And you are controlled breeding people but also have sex as much as you want with the concubines but being gay is not ok? I see the inspiration in other controlled societies, but this one seemed like it shouldn't have lasted 2 years, especially with a leader as lacking in charisma or skills as Jole. </spoiler>

It feels like the message of the book is a good one, but for me that message superseded the actual writing, and made the story as a whole fall a bit flat for me. It still won the Hugo, and while it wouldn't have been my pick, I see why it got the nomination. The aliens are good, the plot once you're off of Gaea station is intriuging, and the pace is sharp. As a rule though, I just kept coming back to the fact that I didn't really enjoy spending time with any of the characters, and that this was one of the dumber dystopias out there, built more to highlight reality's flaws than because it makes sense for the world-building.

So yeah, I'm going with 4 stars because it was better than a lot of things I give three stars, but overall kind of meh.

Obviously a best of McSweeney's is going to be a good collection. Most of these stories are from before I subscribed, so they were new to me. Others were more recent picks that I enjoyed re-reading. "Brigit" is a particularly powerful one as is "The Woman in the Apartment" and "The Girls Who Smell of Vinegar." Also, this issue comes in a lunchbox with poetry pencils and author trading cards.

Look, I'd been thinking of leaving my book club because we'd just had a run of duds, and I hadn't really attached to anything they picked this year. But this? This is a book that I might have passed up that has become definitely in my top three books this year.

Someone in the club referred to it as a dream within a play within a myth, and that's the best I can describe it. The writing is fantastic, the mythology raw, and the romance subtle and beautiful. I love the chorus elements. I love the weave of the different narratives. I loved this book. It took me a long while to get through because it really required my whole attention to read which is a hard for me to do these days, but boy is it worth it.

If you're in need to trigger warnings, I'd take the ones on this book with a grain of salt. While they are all definitely true, the book is rarely graphic and only one scene actually disturbed me (looking at you, Second Terror).

Ann Leckie is one of those authors that I feel like is writing specifically for me. Alien political intrigue centering around translation devices? Check. Small gods wrecking havoc on neolithic societies? Check. Complex exploration of gender subverting our every expectation? Check check check. She's one of the best out there, and I feel like he doesn't get the attention she deserves. Definitely read her novels before stepping into this collection as the background for both The Raadchaai empire and the Raven Tower are quite important for 2/3 fo the stories, but you should really read all those anyway.

A powerful collection by one of the best writers out there. I'm sad that I'm almost through Groff's whole catalog, because each time I read her, I feel inspired to be a better writer and also like there are not enough hours left in my life to get as good as she is. The women of this collection a complicated crowd of the underestimated and misunderstood. Their stories made me cry and rage. "Blythe" in particular hit a little close to home for me. I think I've said this in other reviews of Groff, but she is a masterclass in the craft whose voices will echo in your ear long after you finish reading.

This was way scarier than I expected it to be after reading The Bone Clocks. Like all Mitchell's work, the writing is excellent and he slips between eras effortlessly, but boy do not read this right before going to bed like I did. if you're looking for a haunted house story to devour as quickly as possible, definitely check this out. I'd also really recommend reading The Bone Clocks first. You probably could read Slade House on its own, but that last chapter would be really confusing if you aren't familiar with Marinus.

Well this is a weird and wonderful little collection which I'll be thinking about for a long time. It's definitely got more horror elements than I'm usually comfortable with, but I think it's a prime example of using genre to explore the way we function in society. "The Embodiment" in particular is going to stick with me, I feel. It's almost Kafka-esque in its surreality, and the translation, while pretty sparse, serves the subject really well. An awesome collection if you have both a strong heart and stomach.

I ended up liking this book a lot more than I expected to at the beginning. It's pretty rough and traumatic, mind you, but for the most part, it's well written with complicated characters and a very mature understanding of grief and motherhood.

That said, I think it suffers from two aspects of being a self-published book that might have gotten caught be a professional publisher. One is it's really long, and some parts do drag a bit. The other is the mixing of English/Japanese/made up language. The Japanglish made me feel like I was reading fanfiction, and it just didn't make sense given that other words (like the units of time) are completely made up. It feels a bit like fantasizing an actual culture, which was grating. I don't know much about the author's background, but the author blurb says she's from Wisconsin, so that gives me a bit of pause. And the made up words were really annoying when the work is supposed to be translated anyway.

That sounds rather negative, and all in all, I really did find myself coming back to this story to see what happened next. It's brutal though, and particularly hard to read in light of the horrific events in Gaza, so really check the content warnings before you start if that is something you need.

Ok, so the story itself isn't anything special in the McCaffrey catalog. Sentient fashion aliens and sexy rescue missions. I haven't read the rest of this series so maybe I would benefit more from knowing thr rest of the universe, but it's not one I'm going to remember. That said, the 70s pulp illustrations of this novella are really cool and are the actual reason I bought this one at the used book store. It's worth a flip through at the very least.

While I feel like this book is very much a product of its time (and not just because the wizards are literally sending each other faxes), I really enjoy the mix of magic and mundanity of which Jones is a master. The characters all feel like such low level pawns who all have their own lives to live and don't really understand why they are being moved about and honesty don't care to understand it. It's a style that is a bit out of fashion, but one I really enjoy. Also, I love real magic at the fantasy convention.

That said, this is a 90s book with 90s humor/concepts. Trigger warnings for fatphobia, some awkward sexualization, and while not exactly transphobia, just a 90s understanding of gender.

If those aren't deal breakers for you and you enjoy a cozy fantasy nugget inside a parallel world political epic, this is a good one.

Well, it was short. For me, the narrator is the sort of really tiresome, "Oh I just can't relate to people because I love academia so much" trope that just rubs me the wrong way. The setting too is a sort of romanticized version of the turn of the century without any sexism or homophobia which, you know, that would've been nice but using just the aesthetic without any of its challenges just reads weirdly to me.

Essentially, it's a romance book with a loose fantasy dressing which is just never going to be my cuppa.

Like the first book in this series, this is a really good science fiction culture clash book that is somewhat marred by some dated and naive treatments of SA.

On the whole, Cordelia is one of my favorites of old school SF heroines. She is a scientist, an adventurer, a sometimes soldier, and in this book she is also a wife and mother, and she holds all these identities without sacrificing a one of them. Her impressions of Barrayar still ring as a commentary on our barbaric world today even thirty years later. God reading older science fiction can really show you how little has changed. Bujold is a great writer who balances political intrigue and action fairly effortlessly.

But again, it's hard to gloss over the way SA and mental health in general are treated. It feels like dated misunderstanding more than anything, but it definitely requires a big old content warning at the top not for any sort of graphicness but just for how casually it is treated. I don't think Bujold would write this way anymore, but it does dampen an otherwise wonderful adventure read.

I've read this one before, and it's interesting the different perspectives you get when you read books at different stages of your life. Bujold is one of the best adventure writers, if you ask me, and Cordelia is one of her best characters. I really enjoy stories of competent couples, and Aral and Cordelia definitely qualify. I generally don't like too much romance in my sci-fi, but you know what? Neither do Aral and Cordelia. They've got a lot on their plates.

That said, there are definitely parts of this book that do not age well, in particular the treatment of SA. I feel like the subject is treated much too casually and while I see how she is trying to make Bothari into a complicated survivor of abuse himself, I think it puts the emphasis in the wrong place and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. For 1986, it's extremely progressive, but it doesn't pass modern standards in this one area and as such, carries a sizable SA content warning.

Still, if you portion that out, it's a classic of the genre, features one of the best female heroes of the time period, and a is great start to an epic saga.

Well, it was better than I thought it would be. As my book club has started talking more about the four doorways of reading (Character, Plot, Setting, Writing), I'm coming to realize more and more that without that Writing doorway, I just have a hard time getting into a book.

This book is extremely cinematic in a way that if it was an anime or graphic novel where I could actually see the Chrysalises and watch the battle scenes, I'd probably be pretty into it. The ruthless female anti-hero is a trope that I'm glad is gaining more traction. In the romance aspects of the book,<spoiler>the pro-poly anti-love triangle take is a great way to turn YA fiction on its head even if the Shimin/Yizhi romance didn't really get enough attention to feel at all believable.</spoiler>

So plot and character-wise, it's pretty good. The world-building is all right too. I think it's just the language including occasional modern phrases that feel so anachronistic to the setting that grated on me. The ending also was pretty abrupt and included so much new information that felt rushed to me. So I don't know. I think it's a good book that just wasn't really for me. It is a shame that it was disqualified in the Hugo debacle this year because as literature aimed at a young adult audience, I think it is making some very important moves and deserved that recognition.

If you would like a master-class in voice, particularly writing the voice of thirteen year old girl, look no further. I don't think I've ever read an early teen thought process that worked as well as this one. I think I generally shy away from "coming of age" stories because they so often feel trite. Eulabee's voice is that perfect intersection of intelligent immaturity that I feel really captures this age. The flash forward at the end is also inspired. Just a fantastic piece of fiction that I'd recommend to just about anyone.

My book club billed this one as "reading Skyrim," and I think that's pretty spot on for better and worse. The characters and setting are all pretty excellent with great world building. I especially enjoy viking warrior mom even if I kept misreading her name as Okra instead of Orka. Honestly, I appreciate everything Gwynne does to subvert the patriarchal norms of historical fiction and saying, this is still fiction. This is fantasy. Let's just make a society where the genders are more or less even because we can.

The plot, however, is meandering and constantly interrupted by random encounter fight scenes. Fun to play as a game, less fun to read. And those fight scenes are gory to a level that I just don't enjoy. It also suffers from being only half a book, and I'm not sure I enjoyed it enough to pursue the sequel right away. We shall see, but overall, a unique piece of norse-inspired fantasy though not entirely my cuppa.

I didn't enjoy this one as much as the first one, probably because it moved into the “real” world more than I would like. Once Will moved into the other worlds, I was much more engaged, but I still wanted more time with Lyra. Still, it is obvious why this series is do successful. Great action, powerful questions, and twist after twist.

As an educator, I've always been ashamed to have missed this one. Finally catching up with it, now I can't imagine it being lumped in with “children's books.” It is for very mature, thoughtful children if you must keep it in that category. Other than having a child protagonist, I found this a very adult read. Of course it has all the intriguing theological themes I'd heard about, but it's also an extremely well paced fantastical adventure. A book I'd definitely want my children to read, though not one I could see reading aloud to my class.

Peter S. Beagle makes me cry a lot. Normally, I don't read books to cry, but it's okay when he does it... I guess? This collection of short stories made me cry twice, once in Two Hearts (an epilogue to the Last Unicorn) and once during A Dance for Emilia, a story that so perfectly captures the length and depth of the grieving process my heart broke several times. A lot of the stories reference other past Beagle works (Two Hearts, Quarry), potential future Beagle works (el Regalo), and even some Sherlock Holmes fanfiction (Mr. Sigurson). I'm not sure the status on those future works, but I wait ever upon new words from this man. He has such range, poetry, and subtle humor in all his stories. Also, he understands the differences between dogs and cats and can write both equally well. It's a little thing, but it's very important to me.

Within this collection, Two Hearts was definitely my favorite, although I'm extremely biased towards it. I also liked Salt Wine, because dark twists on mer-people tales are always fun. I prefer the more fantastical stories to the more mainstream, but I can't deny the quality of both. Recommended to all who like short trips into amazing worlds.

NK Jemisin is a master at writing complex characters in immersive settings. I liked this novel even more than The Killing Moon. In particular, the relationship between Hanani and Wanahomen was gripping and believable in each manifestation and transition. Having seen some writing lately that treats relationships as barely developed plot devices and deaths as trivial shock value, this novel was incredibly visceral and refreshing. It has so much to say about gender, consent, and what makes good people do terrible things. Really, there's only one unsympathetic character in the whole book, and his actions are awful enough that I don't want to explore deeper and find sympathy like Jemisin often gets readers to do.

All that and a pseudo-ancient Egyptian setting as a cultural melting pot with a Jungian dreamwork inspired magic system. It's all just fantastic. I'd make sure to read The Killing Moon first, but definitely keep going after that.

Jemisin is a modern master of world-building, and this plane is no exception. You can sense the research she devoted to ancient cultures woven in with yet another unique magic system that bears no resemblance to any I've ever read before. She also masters incredibly complicated relationships. Ehiru and Nijiri are mentor/student, father/son, path brothers, mutual caretakers...There is romantic love and spiritual love and doubt and longing. No relationship she writes is clearly labeled; they are all as messy and complicated as real life. This along with her skill at inventing new cultures are what sets her writing apart.

This is probably not a book I would enjoy if a different author wrote it. I get tired of the circus aesthetic very quickly, and the supernatural vaudeville troupe is not a concept I would gravitate towards. Like most novels in that vein, the side characters are way more interesting and likable than the main character. All that said, RJB is a very, very good writer, and because of his style and flair, I ended up having a pretty good time reading this. If you're looking for a lightweight fantasy and enjoy that early 1900s vaudeville theme, you will probably like this one, and if you're a fan of RJB, it's a worthy addition to his bibliography.

I was really surprised to learn that this last in the series was actually the first book written. The five stars is really for the series as a whole because it sweeps its themes of humanity, slavery, and tradition from pre-colonial Africa to a distant and terrifying dystopia of a future. Three strains of humanity, one cast aside as prey for one group and pack animals for another, struggle to survive in a world where even your mind isn't safe. This is what Doro's great labor wreaks, and it is definitely nothing like I would have predicted. Butler was a master, and even when I find myself getting angry at the characters for their bizarre notions, I see how their inclusion in the story highlights themes that are sadly always relevant.

I read Wild Seed ages ago, and it was great to have the opportunity to revisit this world. I can't say I liked Mary as much as Anyanwu, but it was fascinating to watcher her struggle through moral crisis after moral crisis, to move from used to user. I'm only sad it is of an era when sci-if novels needed to be so bite-sized.