I a stalwart fan of Emma Newman through her powerful work, Planetside. Although the tone and plot of the Split Worlds series are very different, I lovI a stalwart fan of Emma Newman through her powerful work, Planetside. Although the tone and plot of the Split Worlds series are very different, I loved them all, devouring the previous four books in less than one week. After waiting for the final book for almost a year, I found it a satisfying conclusion to the series. As with the previous books in the series, All Good Things deals heavily with themes of feminism, environmentalism, agency, and responsibility.
This book is the completion of a long story arc, and I don't believe it should be read without the rest of the series. All of the characters from previous books have returned. As always, I wasn't quite sure if I actually liked Cathy, the major protagonist of the series and the is the driving force of the story. Cathy is a fierce feminist who wants to bring change to the changeless Nether world, but to me it feels like she is driven by a selfish, myopic ideology that often stops her from seeing the harm her actions inflict on others. This selfishness is examined in the novel: Cathy seeks to bring dramatic change, and this is bound to have negative impacts on others. What right does she have to make these types of decisions for so many others? As one character puts it:
"To create change, to disrupt a system of control, one must carry out radcal acts. One must be prepared to destroy so that something new can be created. Those in control will never give up the power afforded to them voluntarily. It must be taken. If that requires the deaths of a few to give freedom to the many-- and survival of the many--then so be it. This is not a gentle act."
But who has the right to decide to make that sacrifice? Does having the power to carry out the act give you the right to do so?
Fortunately, the other characters-- Sam, Lucy, Kay, and the gargoyle -- are more sympathetic. However, there's a big "anyone can die" and "anyone can betray" vibe in the novel. There is no easy division into protagonists and antagonists in the novel: everyone is driven by their own motivations and secret loyalties. Because of this, there have been many different antagonists in the story, with protagonists easily morphing into enemies. Sometimes, the changes felt too facile to me, the deaths of characters too superficial, the betrayals too unrooted. I particularly disliked how anticlimactic some of the dismissals of characters we've grown to care about throughout the series were, and how easily the characters were forgotten and set aside.(view spoiler)[For all the strong feminist themes of the novels, if you look at who dies or is forgotten, you'll see an impressive number of women. Bea's death was simply pathetic. Kay got refrigeratored, something I find particularly hard to stomach from an overtly feminist series. But it's Lucy I found most troubling. She has been such a strong character throughout the series. To have her thrown away and forgotten because of an out-of-character and clumsy betrayal in which she became the pawn of a man? Not good. For me, the saving grace of the novel was that Will was revealed as the absolute villain of the piece. I was worried throughout that his rape and control would be seen as "extreme love" and that he would end up as the protagonist, as is so often the case in urban fantasy romance novels. As Cathy notes, rape is rape, and it should not be whitewashed. (hide spoiler)] At the same time, I loved some of the twists of All Good Things: one of my favourite aspects of the book is how antagonists morph into allies and how an abrupt twist brought the one true villain of the series into sharp relief.
At its core, the novel is all about control and ownership and responsibility, and however surprising the ending, I found All Good Things a satisfying end to the series. If you've read the other Split Worlds books, I don't need to tell you about this book because you're going to read it anyway. As for me, I can't wait to see what Emma Newman has in store for her readers next.
~~I received an advanced reader copy of this ebook through Netgalley from the publisher, Diversion Books, in exchange for my honest review.~~
"Society is not going to change under your sledgehammer, Cathy."
I genuinely can't explain what this book did or how it did it, but the day I finis
"Society is not going to change under your sledgehammer, Cathy."
I genuinely can't explain what this book did or how it did it, but the day I finished A Little Knowledge, I purchased the first book in the series and promptly started reading it. And when I finished the first book, I bought the second. And then the third. I finished the entire series in sequence, one after the other. For those of you who don't know me, it's hard to explain just how out-of-character this is for me: I basically never buy books, and I have absolutely terrible series staying power. Yet without doubt, Emma Newman has gotten more of my money than any other author this year. And I don't really know why.
Because here's the thing about the Split Worlds series: it's insidious. When I read A Little Knowledge, I thought I felt lukewarm about it. As an inveterate and unashamed out-of-order series reader, when I tell you that this is not a good book to start the series with, please take my word for it. Newman may have a gift for worldbuilding and characters, but she has not yet mastered the gentle art of the recap. The Split Worlds is pretty complex and I had no idea what was going on most of the time. Yet I think that was part of the series' appeal. Basically, a long time ago, a cadre of sorcerers split the magic part of the world from the mundane. The fey were banished to Exilium, but they subvert and steal mortals and bring them into the Nether, an intermediate zone between the two worlds where time does not exist. These fey-touched act as puppets for their faerie lords, and their actions are patrolled by the Arbiters, mortals whose souls were dislocated from their bodies to prevent subversion by the fey. The world of the Nether is frozen in semi-Victorian English state, an endless stream of parties and dances and dinners, with women given no more agency than a pet dog.
Into this grim situation blunders Cathy, a child of the fey-touched who ran away to the mundane world and started going to college before she was dragged back to the Nether. As even she realizes:
"Cathy had the delicacy and insight of a cat with its head stuck in a box moving backwards to try and escape it, and she knew it."
Cathy may not have chosen her circumstances, but she's determined to make the best of them, and, more importantly, to change them, both for herself and the other women of the Nether. Even as her efforts heighten tensions between herself and everyone she loves, Cathy remains steadfast:
"But how will things ever change if I don't force them to?"
When I first read the book, I found the circumstances unpleasant and in some ways pointlessly unpleasant, much in the manner of YA dystopians: the setup is so extreme that it doesn't correlate with the world that its readers would inhabit. It's about feminism and agency and self-determinism, but the level of inequality the characters experience is so utterly extreme that I see it as rather a waste of the reader's outrage and disgust. The women of the Nether are constantly prey to rape and violence, and if they don't obey their masters, they can be magically "Dolled, cursed, and Charmed into obedience."(view spoiler)[I found Will utterly creepy, and was mystified about how they had gotten together. As he thinks himself:
"He wanted to claim her, possess her and take her fire into himself."
The fact that it is a charmed choker is all too appropriate. As she says to him,
"You want me to be someone I'm not. You want me to play the game, don't you? That's what you mean when you say you want me to work with you. You want me to stop being such a pain in the arse. But what you're really saying is that you want me to stop being who I am."
Suffice it to say that A Little Knowledge is a difficult read, and much of the moral outrage it generated felt anything but constructive. But perhaps the goal is to use extremes to highlight the problems found in a more nuanced way in our world. Apart from sexism, the book also confronts racism and rampant consumerism. Even leavened with Newman's sly wit, it wasn't precisely an easy or pleasant read, yet I was sucked in all the same. I was so driven to understand how the world worked and how the characters got to where they were that I promptly turned around and binge-read the previous three books. In some sense, A Little Knowledge is also a game-changer for the series, putting events into motion that are sure to have serious impact on the Split Worlds. I may still be perplexed as to why I found these books so compulsively readable, but definitely count me in for the next one.
~~I received this book through Netgalley from the publisher, Diversion Publishing, in exchange for my honest review. Quotes were taken from an advanced reader copy and while they may not reflect the final phrasing, I believe they speak to the spirit of the book as a whole.~~
Until the death of Google Reader, I was a regular subscriber to Foz Meadows' blog, so I was absolutely delighted to have the chance to read her book. Until the death of Google Reader, I was a regular subscriber to Foz Meadows' blog, so I was absolutely delighted to have the chance to read her book. I think I would have been absolutely captivated by Accident of Stars when I was younger. Thematically, it's a coming-of-age story in a creative high fantasy world, and not only are the majority of protagonists teenagers, but the story is also blissfully devoid of love triangles, self-image issues, and school-related angst. Sadly, I've since become rather more jaded. The story is an homage to traditional high fantasy, but with a strongly feminist slant. As an almost exact contrast to standard epic fantasy, almost all of the characters of importance--protagonists, villains, and everything in between-- are female. Pure gender swapping was observable in everything from the matriarchal societies to the female role as warrior to the fact that in this world, it's women who can't ask for directions because
"Women were gifted by Sahu with the knowledge of orientation: admitting failure in that respect would open her up to mockery."
The message of the story, too, are equally blatant. Possibly because I was so cognizant of Meadows' role as social commentator, the feminism and seemed rather self-conscious to me. It's all fun, but felt so very self-aware that it prevented me from really getting into the flow of the story.
Accident of Stars follows something of a good-evil dichotomy of traditional epic fantasy. Our usurping villains are apparently Evil Incorporated™, even though we see very little of their dastardly plans, possibly because they're so much an afterthought to the meat of the tale. At least one of the villains appears to be evil for the sake of evil; the other has a motivation right out of an 1890s morality tale. (view spoiler)[Seriously, what is with all these women and their obsession with childbirth? It's almost like they feel that a woman's life isn't complete without it, yeah? (hide spoiler)] The characters themselves never quite came alive to me, perhaps because so much of their personalities and interactions are driven by the plot. I saw Gwen as the clearest example of this: although born on earth, Gwen creates a life for herself on the other world, including two partners and a child. Yet while she thinks about them often, it's in a plot-driven way: her lovers remain utter nonentities, their entire characters limited to their names and genders. I felt that the characters were shaped by the plot and message, not the other way around. The character I found most intriguing--and, not coincidentally, the only one I felt escaped the good-evil dichotomy-- was Yasha, a dictatorial outcast matriarch whose motives are murky for much of the story.
Even though I loved how Meadows eschewed a white default, I was somewhat troubled by the treatment of race and ethnicity. One of my major irritations is when authors reflect an oversimplification of the ethnicities of our world into theirs. In this case, apparently being black means you're Uyun. That's right; apparently your skin tone dictates your nationality, ethnicity, and culture, all in one go. Even though Uyuns live in other cities, their skin color defines them. No matter how self-consciously Meadows tries to explore racial issues, everything in the world she creates seems to depend on skincolor--nationality, culture, religion. Is there no intermixing, no sharing of cultures here? Why does everyone assume the black person from Earth is Uyun and thus apparently from that country rather than the area she lives in? I admit I'm disappointed. I would have expected her to have picked up on how problematic and limiting a skin-color-equals-nationality-equals-culture setup can be.
I'm not sure what genre is targeted, but personally I feel that this fits comfortably into the YA framework. Sure, parents may be a little uncomfortable at the idea of polyamory, but nothing is graphic, and the general themes-- empowerment, coming of age, etc-- seem to fit the genre rather well. I think this is the type of book I would have utterly adored as a high-schooler. It creates a world of acceptance and feminism, a sharp contrast to the rigid gender roles so often seen in high fantasy. If you're looking for a modern take on Narnia-style worlds-through-portals, Accident of Stars is worth a look.
~~I received an advanced reader copy of this ebook through Netgalley from the publisher, Angry Robot Books, in exchange for my (depressingly) honest review.~~
Gotta say, I'm impressed: this contains the shoddiest, most illogical worldbuilding I have so far encountered. Congrats on that! Basic**edited 01/18/14
Gotta say, I'm impressed: this contains the shoddiest, most illogical worldbuilding I have so far encountered. Congrats on that! Basically, our protagonist is dragged into a parallel world in which guns were never invented (Barant incorrectly dates their creation to the 12th century and says that history "went differently"), vampires and werewolves fought and won a battle with humans, and despite this, literally almost every single aspect of society evolved in precisely the same way as our own. Every country, every city was colonised in an identical fashion. Despite the radical disruption in timelines, practically every invention, institution, and product of our world--Crown Vics, plastic, the internet, servers, the Seattle Needle, the FBI, Prohibition, 401K's, Harleys, even freaking napalm--evolved identically.
“Once upon a time, an angel and a devil held a wishbone between them. And its snap split the world in two."
And the moral of the story**edited 01/30/14
“Once upon a time, an angel and a devil held a wishbone between them. And its snap split the world in two."
And the moral of the story: Never underestimate the power of hope, true love, and assassination.
I'm probably not the target audience: while I enjoyed Daughter of Smoke and Bone, I somehow couldn't perceive the depth and power others saw in the story. While I'm not one to partake of or even pick up on poetry, even I appreciated Taylor's lyrical language and evocative turn of phrase. Days of Blood and Starlight, as one might guess from the title, has all of the melodious language and rhythmic phrasing of its predecessor, as well as all of the worldbuilding and dark motifs. Unfortunately, I felt that certain aspects were not thoroughly considered, and two aspects hit all of my triggers: (1) glamorizing viewpoints that I found hypocritical, and (2) dwelling upon the details of certain atrocities in apparent fascination.
umm...I enjoyed a lot of this. I mean a lot. I continually laughed out loud, and since I read at the gym and and sniggering is viewed**edited 01/29/14
umm...I enjoyed a lot of this. I mean a lot. I continually laughed out loud, and since I read at the gym and and sniggering is viewed as rather odd, that shows just how funny it was. I also had really strong (negative) feelings about certain parts. Hearne is iconoclastic in his treatment of religion and mythology, and although I found it hilarious, I also think that the cheap shock trick is overused here. I love urban fantasy because it is usually based on mythological traditions, and originally, I loved that Hearne stuck so closely to the original myths. But at some point, I expected Hearne to build his own characters instead of just killing everyone else's. Hearne capitalizes on the reader's knowledge of mythology: he doesn't build characters for the various religious figures he involves; he names them, briefly describes them, and then depends on readers' previous knowledge to make these changes, or the figures' deaths, fun or funny. That's not worldbuilding. It's entertaining in an OMG-I-can't-believe-he-did-this kind of way, but it's also cheap and shallow and lazy...come to think of it, just like the pop-culture jokes that practically make up the remainder of the book. The humour and shock comes from changing or destroying characters that have been built by other people. I'd prefer it if an author took the trouble to build them himself.
But what actually bothered me: part of the plot involves Atticus agreeing to assist a bunch of giants to capture and rape a goddess. That's right, this is our "hero."
Oddly, this was always one of my favorite books in the series as a child. When rereading as an (agnostic) adult, it lost much of its appeal. C.S. LewisOddly, this was always one of my favorite books in the series as a child. When rereading as an (agnostic) adult, it lost much of its appeal. C.S. Lewis continues his allegory of Christianity to the next logical step: the end of the world. The main characters here are actually some of the creatures of Narnia rather than the children, and Puzzle, the donkey, was always one of my favorites. Even as a child, I found Lewis's picture of heaven to be...well...boring. But he certainly captures beauty and longing that are so much a part of the true believer's faith....more
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