*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the c*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.*
HIGHLIGHTS ~no vows of chastity for these nuns ~supporting women’s wrongs 100% ~don’t touch someone else’s pearl (not a euphemism!) ~drown all colonisers ~brace yourself for ALL the Emotions ~a love triangle that is actually excellent ~if she lets down her hair, RUN
Saints of Storm and Sorrow grabs you by the throat and does not let you go for an instant.
It’s also a book where, to be honest, I feel like my main task is just to make sure you know about it – because once you do, it sells itself. A bisexual nun who can summon typhoons by letting down her hair is caught between the goddess she’s hiding from and the totally-not-Spaniards who’ve colonised her home? In a setting inspired by the Philippines?? What else could you possibly need to hear to convince you that Saints of Storm and Sorrow is a must-read?!?
I know, I know, sometimes we get super excited for books with amazing pitches that, in the end, are let-downs. But this is not one of those times. Saints of Storm and Sorrow is every bit as incredible as it sounds. There is no wasted potential here. If I may add a little more alliteration – Saints of Storm and Sorrow is simply superb.
Anitun Tabu herself, garbed in light, the dark moon of her face too beautiful to gaze upon, the black river of her hair a halo lashing in unseen winds. She was crowned in lightning, the spear of heaven’s judgement in her right hand.
“You called my name, Daughter?”
Lunurin is biracial, the daughter of a woman of the archipelago and a Codicían priest – but although she’s spent a good chunk of her life playing a Christian (and therefore Codicían) nun, in her heart she’s anything but. Not for lack of trying; Lunurin works hard to be soft and pleasant, both for her lover and the Church that’s given her a (kind of) sanctuary; she has kept her head down for years, playing the dutiful Christian novice. Behind closed doors, though, she has her romance with Catalina, another biracial novice, with Catalina’s younger sister filling an almost daughter-like role to round out their little family. Interestingly, despite Catalina’s Christian faith being far more genuine than Lunurin’s, Catalina seems to have no shame or complicated feelings about being queer, despite the fact that her sexuality, and her love for Lunurin, go completely against the church’s rules. But in all other respects she’s a good Codicían woman – and very clearly wants Lunurin to be one too.
Lunurin isn’t, though. And not just because she’s a stormcaller – chosen by Anitun Tabu, goddess of the sky and weather, ‘blessed’ with immense power only kept under wraps by the same powerful talisman that hides Lunurin from her goddess. Lunurin sees the hypocrisies and abuses of the Church and the Codicíans, and can’t close her eyes to them; whenever she can, she helps the poor and abused escape the Church’s reach, often with the help of Alon. In Western terms, Alon is basically a prince, the heir of the island’s ruler since his older brother was exiled; he’s also, secretly, one of the tide-touched, able to manipulate salt water with the blessing of Aman Sinaya, goddess of the sea. And he’s the only one who might be able to help when Lunurin and Catalina make a horrific discovery in the early chapters of the book – one that will lead all three of them to the breaking point, and tear them, and maybe even their island, apart.
It took everything in Lunurin not to laugh until she wept. What divine calling could there be when a primordial goddess of the heavens, with lightning for blood and storms at her beck and call, curled under Lunurin’s breastbone, whispering, “Daughter, won’t you drown them for me?”
Drawing inspiration from the Philippines, its history, and its mythology, the setting of SoSaS feels new and unique, a gorgeous and entrancing contrast to the generic Medieval-Europe-esque backdrop that is so confusingly popular in Fantasy. The world Buba has created here is beautiful and intricate, one that I fell more and more in love with the more I learned about it. The people’s relationship to the land and sea and sky, the matriarchal politics, the pearls, the hair, the wildly different (from Christianity) approach to religion, the trio of goddesses whose chosen ones are so integral to the Aynilan way of life… It’s all incredible. No detail has been missed or hand-waved or not-thought-through, with the result that it feels real enough to be a place you could visit it in person if you chose. It doesn’t feel invented, which is the highest praise I can give to a land that doesn’t exist.
For example, let’s talk about mutyas. In the (unnamed) archipelago that Lunurin lives in – clearly a fantasy version of the archipelago that is the Philippines in our world – cultures vary somewhat from island to island (we know that there are hundreds of languages spoken in the archipelago, and in the prologue, we hear of an island ruled by rajs who have tossed out the Codicíans entirely; Lunurin’s island of origin Calilan had a Datu, who was some kind of ruler; and Aynila, which is the setting of SoSaS, has the Lakan who rules the entire island alone, as best I can make out) but mutyas are one of the many things that tie everyone together. A mutya is a piece of jewellery – usually some kind of hair comb for women with magic, but for others it can take just about any form – set with the pearl the person found when they underwent their naming dive. If a person finds a special kind of pearl, it marks them as goddess-chosen – a stormcaller like Lunurin, tide-touched like Alon, or a firetender, depending on the pearl and the goddess. This is a relatively simple piece of worldbuilding, I guess, but for one thing, it’s a beautiful concept, and for a second, it’s woven throughout the entire book. Lunurin’s mutya is one of the things that helps her control (read: suppress) her magic, so it’s something she nearly always has on her person; it’s a sacred, highly personal object that every Aynilan character we come into contact with has and wears, usually openly; by the time we see someone fondle another person’s mutya uninvited, I didn’t need Buba to spell out for me how shocking and violating that was, because she’d already made sure I’d absorbed exactly how important a mutya is. Every concept Buba invents or introduces us to is like that; easy to understand and remember, shown naturally rather than info-dumped on us, and never forgotten or not-followed-through on.
*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.*
HIGHLIGHTS ~no vows of chastity for these nuns ~supporting women’s wrongs 100% ~don’t touch someone else’s pearl (not a euphemism!) ~drown all colonisers ~brace yourself for ALL the Emotions ~a love triangle that is actually excellent ~if she lets down her hair, RUN
Saints of Storm and Sorrow grabs you by the throat and does not let you go for an instant.
It’s also a book where, to be honest, I feel like my main task is just to make sure you know about it – because once you do, it sells itself. A bisexual nun who can summon typhoons by letting down her hair is caught between the goddess she’s hiding from and the totally-not-Spaniards who’ve colonised her home? In a setting inspired by the Philippines?? What else could you possibly need to hear to convince you that Saints of Storm and Sorrow is a must-read?!?
I know, I know, sometimes we get super excited for books with amazing pitches that, in the end, are let-downs. But this is not one of those times. Saints of Storm and Sorrow is every bit as incredible as it sounds. There is no wasted potential here. If I may add a little more alliteration – Saints of Storm and Sorrow is simply superb.
Anitun Tabu herself, garbed in light, the dark moon of her face too beautiful to gaze upon, the black river of her hair a halo lashing in unseen winds. She was crowned in lightning, the spear of heaven’s judgement in her right hand.
“You called my name, Daughter?”
Lunurin is biracial, the daughter of a woman of the archipelago and a Codicían priest – but although she’s spent a good chunk of her life playing a Christian (and therefore Codicían) nun, in her heart she’s anything but. Not for lack of trying; Lunurin works hard to be soft and pleasant, both for her lover and the Church that’s given her a (kind of) sanctuary; she has kept her head down for years, playing the dutiful Christian novice. Behind closed doors, though, she has her romance with Catalina, another biracial novice, with Catalina’s younger sister filling an almost daughter-like role to round out their little family. Interestingly, despite Catalina’s Christian faith being far more genuine than Lunurin’s, Catalina seems to have no shame or complicated feelings about being queer, despite the fact that her sexuality, and her love for Lunurin, go completely against the church’s rules. But in all other respects she’s a good Codicían woman – and very clearly wants Lunurin to be one too.
Lunurin isn’t, though. And not just because she’s a stormcaller – chosen by Anitun Tabu, goddess of the sky and weather, ‘blessed’ with immense power only kept under wraps by the same powerful talisman that hides Lunurin from her goddess. Lunurin sees the hypocrisies and abuses of the Church and the Codicíans, and can’t close her eyes to them; whenever she can, she helps the poor and abused escape the Church’s reach, often with the help of Alon. In Western terms, Alon is basically a prince, the heir of the island’s ruler since his older brother was exiled; he’s also, secretly, one of the tide-touched, able to manipulate salt water with the blessing of Aman Sinaya, goddess of the sea. And he’s the only one who might be able to help when Lunurin and Catalina make a horrific discovery in the early chapters of the book – one that will lead all three of them to the breaking point, and tear them, and maybe even their island, apart.
It took everything in Lunurin not to laugh until she wept. What divine calling could there be when a primordial goddess of the heavens, with lightning for blood and storms at her beck and call, curled under Lunurin’s breastbone, whispering, “Daughter, won’t you drown them for me?”
Drawing inspiration from the Philippines, its history, and its mythology, the setting of SoSaS feels new and unique, a gorgeous and entrancing contrast to the generic Medieval-Europe-esque backdrop that is so confusingly popular in Fantasy. The world Buba has created here is beautiful and intricate, one that I fell more and more in love with the more I learned about it. The people’s relationship to the land and sea and sky, the matriarchal politics, the pearls, the hair, the wildly different (from Christianity) approach to religion, the trio of goddesses whose chosen ones are so integral to the Aynilan way of life… It’s all incredible. No detail has been missed or hand-waved or not-thought-through, with the result that it feels real enough to be a place you could visit it in person if you chose. It doesn’t feel invented, which is the highest praise I can give to a land that doesn’t exist.
For example, let’s talk about mutyas. In the (unnamed) archipelago that Lunurin lives in – clearly a fantasy version of the archipelago that is the Philippines in our world – cultures vary somewhat from island to island (we know that there are hundreds of languages spoken in the archipelago, and in the prologue, we hear of an island ruled by rajs who have tossed out the Codicíans entirely; Lunurin’s island of origin Calilan had a Datu, who was some kind of ruler; and Aynila, which is the setting of SoSaS, has the Lakan who rules the entire island alone, as best I can make out) but mutyas are one of the many things that tie everyone together. A mutya is a piece of jewellery – usually some kind of hair comb for women with magic, but for others it can take just about any form – set with the pearl the person found when they underwent their naming dive. If a person finds a special kind of pearl, it marks them as goddess-chosen – a stormcaller like Lunurin, tide-touched like Alon, or a firetender, depending on the pearl and the goddess. This is a relatively simple piece of worldbuilding, I guess, but for one thing, it’s a beautiful concept, and for a second, it’s woven throughout the entire book. Lunurin’s mutya is one of the things that helps her control (read: suppress) her magic, so it’s something she nearly always has on her person; it’s a sacred, highly personal object that every Aynilan character we come into contact with has and wears, usually openly; by the time we see someone fondle another person’s mutya uninvited, I didn’t need Buba to spell out for me how shocking and violating that was, because she’d already made sure I’d absorbed exactly how important a mutya is. Every concept Buba invents or introduces us to is like that; easy to understand and remember, shown naturally rather than info-dumped on us, and never forgotten or not-followed-through on.
Could not put this down once I picked it up! Stayed up until 8am to finish it and I regret NOTHING. Amazing main characters, both hyper-competent in tCould not put this down once I picked it up! Stayed up until 8am to finish it and I regret NOTHING. Amazing main characters, both hyper-competent in their respective areas (although Rihasi herself isn't just hyper-competent but an outright genius) and I ADORE men being unthreatened by a woman's brilliance and, in fact, falling in love with it. Definitely one of my favourite romantic dynamics, and it's done so incredibly well here.
I never have any idea where Neumeier plans on taking this series next, but I will, as always, be here for it!...more
EXCUSE ME?! NEW MARGARET KILLJOY NOVEL?! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!
After reading: 3.5 or 4 stars. I'm honestly not sure if this is meant to be Adult or YA, EXCUSE ME?! NEW MARGARET KILLJOY NOVEL?! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!
After reading: 3.5 or 4 stars. I'm honestly not sure if this is meant to be Adult or YA, but it was very readable with lots of cool themes. Rtc! ...more
A disappointingly rushed final act, but so freaking beautiful it still deserves four stars.
Rtc!
*I received this book for free from the publisher via NA disappointingly rushed final act, but so freaking beautiful it still deserves four stars.
Rtc!
*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.*
~nonbinary Eros ~what would a queen do? do that ~All Men Are All BadTM ~Aphrodite = Mom of the Millennium (mostly) ~no laurel trees anywhere
This is going to be a weird review, because I think Palace of Eros is objectively good in many ways, and definitely deserves four stars – I really enjoyed reading it. But I also kinda hate it. That being said, I know that most people who enjoy feminist mythology retellings are not going to be bothered at all by the bits that drove me up the wall, SO. If you want to read something like Circe, but queer and with even more beautiful prose? Then I think you’ll adore this book.
Take a big pinch of salt with this review, okay? The problem is mostly that I don’t get along with books like this – I shouldn’t have requested it and that’s on me. My dislike doesn’t at ALL mean that you shouldn’t pick it up. Bear that in mind!
*
I’m quite torn over Palace of Eros – it’s not what I wanted, but it’s beautiful. It does a number of things I can’t stand, but some of those things are issues of taste and don’t make the book objectively bad. I highlighted so many passages of absolutely stunning prose, even as I rolled my eyes at quite a bit of the messaging.
Thus – torn.
Palace of Eros leaves the beaten track of the usual feminist mythology retellings by making Psyche and Eros queer, even as the template of the story is very reminiscent of Madeline Miller’s Circe and its ilk. For the most part, the writing also echoes Miller’s; sensual but accessible, although I would say that Robertis’ is grander and elevated and just generally better. But in tone? Palace of Eros is very reminiscent of Circe and its ilk, and if you love one, you’re very likely to enjoy the other.
the hand against my hair was honey on a thirsty tongue. The glint and shudder of fish in a stream. Silk rippling through sunlight. I was sunlight, in the presence of her hand. I had not known, before, that this was possible, that a body could be transmuted into light by another person’s touch. I gleamed, I was lost, I was vast inside. Some part of me must have known even then.
That does mean that Palace of Eros falls into the same weird traps so many of these retellings do: there’s no female solidarity anywhere, despite the ostensible ‘beauty is a weapon of the patriarchy’ moral; all men are wholly evil, without exception (don’t @ me about Hephaestus, he’s on the page for all of two sentences); and in trying to retell the myth, a lot of the worldbuilding gets broken.
Brief plot summary for context: Psyche is so pretty that every man becomes obsessed with her, to the point that they stop worshipping Aphrodite and just stare at Psyche instead. Obviously Aphrodite is not happy about this. A prophecy is made that Psyche will marry a monster; to appease Aphrodite, Psyche is tied to a rock and left for said monster to come claim her. Instead, Eros, Aphrodite’s nonbinary daughter and goddess of desire, swoops in to carry her away, and they fall in love despite only meeting in the dark every night. If you know the myth, you know the general outline of how things go from there; if you don’t, that’s more than you need to know going into the book.
Now let’s take my three big critiques point by point.
No female solidarity: the best relationship we see in the book is Aphrodite and Eros’, and frankly, there are some big, glaring problems between them that aren’t even acknowledged, never mind addressed. Psyche’s mother is supposedly lovely, but after Psyche is ‘sacrificed’ Psyche never sees her again. Psyche’s sisters, on the other hand, are spiteful and vicious – and the relationship between them and Psyche is really the only non-romantic relationship we get to see Psyche in. The gods are no better; all the goddesses of the Greek pantheon are shown as isolated and cut off from each other. The lack of women having friends, or any other kind of relationships with each other, is just weird in the context of the women must support each other message that the book pushes quite strongly towards the end.
All men suck: Zeus is unremittingly terrible, of course – although I admit that, while common, that’s a take on Zeus I find very boring – but the book literally starts with CROWDS of men watching Psyche all day every day, being disgusting because they’re obsessed with her beauty. Hephaestus is held up as a Good Guy, but he’s so briefly on-page that I wouldn’t blame you for missing him, and no other male gods are mentioned in any other context than their histories of rape. Some don’t even appear in the story, but we still get long paragraphs on how they raped this person or that person, just so we don’t forget that all men are evil without nuance or remorse, and I cannot believe I keep getting shoved into the position of yelling But Not All Men when that is the last thing I want to be doing. And yet, here I am, once again pointing out that having all your men be evil isn’t really any different to making all your women into sex-obsessed harlots breasting boobily down the stairs – neither take is good writing. It’s not even an INTERESTING kind of evil! I don’t care about the ethics of it, I care that it’s fucking boring to be hit over the head with this again and again. There are men who don’t rape! I can’t believe I have to say that! And yes, lots of the Greek gods were horrible rapists – but people still worshipped them, so clearly their characterisation was complicated, back in the day? As in, they did bad AND good/helpful things? Could we have some of that, please? I am dying for some complexity, some nuance, some three-dimensional characterisation of male characters instead of these constant caricatures. Authors, you are undermining your own messaging by only writing these simplistic straw men.
*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the c*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.*
HIGHLIGHTS ~giant war-corvids! ~a wizard with a messed up sense of humour ~if you’re going to fall in love with a queen, make sure she’s a good one ~brace for nightmares ~carrots that swim
Well, that ripped my heart out.
The Daughters’ War is the prequel to The Blacktongue Thief, which you do not need to have read to enjoy this book. I do think a lot of the events in War will hit harder if you’ve read Thief already, but I have no idea what Buehlman’s intended reading order is and I don’t think either option – starting with War, which is chronologically first, or Thief, which was published first – is wrong. You do you!
But if you read Thief first, you know how War is going to end – if not the exact details, then certainly in sweeping generalities – and I think that makes for a very different reading experience. I’m going to do my best to avoid spoilers for both War and Thief, but I will just briefly say that having read Thief, reading War was extremely bittersweet. And yet, knowing how it would end did not stop me from becoming wildly invested in the characters and their relationships; it did not stop the events of this book from mattering to me. I thought I would be able to hold myself a little emotionally distant from the story – to protect myself from what I knew was coming! – and fellow readers, I could not.
Daughters’ War devastated me.
Buehlman, I applaud you, sir.
Galva was my second-favourite character in Thief, after the main character and narrator, so I was perfectly okay with waiting for a sequel when it meant we’d get a Galva-centric prequel first! And Buehlman took an approach that I wasn’t expecting, but think was the perfect choice: although the book is in first-person, the story is being narrated by an older Galva – so we have both the version of Galva we’re familiar with (and love so much) from Thief, but still get to see her as a younger woman as well. We get her older self’s commentary on her own behaviour and actions, and those of the people around her, as well as the war effort itself. To say nothing of her thoughts on the actual experience of battle and war: it was almost shocking, seeing a younger Galva being afraid of something! GALVA?! Feeling FEAR?! But it also made her…more approachable? Hm, no, that’s not quite the word I want. The Galva of Thief is glorious, fearless, and untouchable; Daughters’ War reminds us that she’s a human being like the rest of us, one who experiences awkwardness and naïveté and, yes, fear.
(Or it might be more correct to say, she experienced those things; I’m not convinced Thief!Galva still does. Pretty sure Thief!Galva gives zero fucks about awkward situations, is far too experienced and canny to be naive, and definitely doesn’t fear death.)
It makes her easier to grasp and understand; she’s not so untouchable here. That being said, from the first page it’s clear that, although younger!Galva and Thief!Galva are different, they’re not fundamentally different. The Galva of this book still (already?) holds tight to what she considers proper behaviour and honour; she still does not suffer fools well; she still gives all of herself unstintingly to whatever course she believes correct. She might be more open, and perhaps more emotionally vulnerable, than the Galva of Thief, but she’s very much the same character: potential readers don’t need to worry that Daughters’ War is going to present an unrecognisable version of Galva.
I loved that we got to see how Galva came to the worship of Dal-Gaata, the goddess of Death. The fact that Galva is/was a handmaiden of Death is definitely one of the things that makes her feel more like a more-than-human paladin than a normal person – who worships Death??? – but Buehlman actually managed to make me follow and understand Galva’s path to Her. I didn’t think that was something I’d be able to get my head around, but – hard as it might be to believe! – I got the appeal. And I am majorly impressed that Buehlman was able to pull that off. If asked, I would have said no one could make me understand why you might want to worship Death – but Buehlman did.
CHANDRASEKERA KINDLY STOP BLOWING MY MIND TO GLITTERY SMITHEREENS, SIR!
(Never stop ever.)
Rtc!
*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetCHANDRASEKERA KINDLY STOP BLOWING MY MIND TO GLITTERY SMITHEREENS, SIR!
(Never stop ever.)
Rtc!
*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.*
HIGHLIGHTS ~a handful of minutes ~hunt treasure, find demons ~time ain’t what it oughtta be ~the things one will do to get a son-in-law ~grandparents made of abnormal atoms
I’ll be honest: I don’t think I understood most of what was going on in Rakesfall.
But I loved every second of it.
In the simplest possible terms, it is, as the blurb claims, the…story…of two (at least two) souls as they reincarnate again and again. But describing it that way doesn’t even BEGIN to give you an idea of what Rakesfall is, or is like.
enormity cannot truly, fully be spoken of without recourse to fable. There is a dread scale at which only myth works; only nightmare has the technology. Worlds must be broken to convey that attempts to depict a multidimensionally unspeakable reality in fiction, including this one, are but contemptible in the final reading.
Part of it seems to take place in the past of our world, and some in our present or near-present – but the vast majority of it, all the stories that are really one story, are taking part in a world that isn’t ours, and then in a future that could be, but could just as easily be the future of this world that isn’t ours. (Readers familiar with Chandrasekera’s debut, The Saint of Bright Doors, will recognise the city of Luriat, which we visit again this book – albeit relatively briefly.
Does that make Rakesfall the/a sequel to The Saint of Bright Doors? I don’t think so, but some of the terms used in TSoBD come up again in Rakesfall, so it is helpful to have read TSoBD first. Very not-mandatory, though.)
Possibly this is the meaning of the title – The Rakesfall, if I understood it correctly, was an event that…‘broke’ isn’t the right term…changed the timeline, and thus the world, into…not what it ‘shouldn’t’ be, but what it wasn’t before. So I think the setting(s are) meant to be…a world our world could have been, or might have been, or would be, if time hadn’t gone the way it did. And/or will be, re the future parts, if we don’t hurry up and eat the rich already.
I’M TRYING MY BEST, OKAY?
Georges does not ask himself why the Christian devil has hooves and horns, which is of course that they are satyrical.
There is wordplay and mindplay and a rapid cycling through perspectives, sometimes several perspectives of the same event or events. We jump from the colonialisation of Indonesia to the far-future when humanity has left Earth behind entirely, and a whole bunch of places – some real, some meant-to-be-real, some meant-to-not-be – in-between (and before, and after). I don’t think it’s accurate to say that there is one clear, linear story being played out over all these lifetimes and timelines (if there is, I missed it) but it would be equally untrue to claim that Rakesfall has no plot; each section of the book – most of which cover one lifetime or time-period – covers a series of events that I was very invested in, even when I knew I was missing some nuance or only comprehending a piece of the whole. There is a murder-mystery; there are many attempts to ‘regreen’ the Earth after climate collapse; there is identity-theft with souls; there are quests, kind of; there is subtle and unsubtle resistance to political oppression; there are ghosts being taken to court to stop their hauntings. There is a LOT.
I AM ABOUT TO MAKE THIS BOOK MY WHOLE ENTIRE PERSONALITY AND YOU CANNOT STOP ME
PERFECTION
EEEEEEEEEE!
RTC!!!
*I received this book MY NEW FAVOURITE THING
I AM ABOUT TO MAKE THIS BOOK MY WHOLE ENTIRE PERSONALITY AND YOU CANNOT STOP ME
PERFECTION
EEEEEEEEEE!
RTC!!!
*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.*
Highlights ~the zoo I’ve been waiting all my life for ~a giftshop where I want to buy everything ~sort-of-rivals to lovers ~don’t neglect your bestie ~PHOENIXES!
Some books make you fizz and glitter and wiggle your toes and SQUEE, and The Phoenix Keeper is one of them!
That’s my biggest take-away from this book: how much JOY it made me feel, how much delight! I want to hug it to my chest and read it another hundred times and put a copy in the hands of everyone I know, because it is SO wonderful and SO perfect and I want to share it with THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD!
You know how sometimes, it’s so clear that the author really loved getting to write the book in your hands? Phoenix Keeper is like that: delight emanates from the pages, catching in your throat and your chest, making everything sparkle and effervesce. This book was written because MacLean loved it, so that you and I could fall in love with it; and how could we not, when every aspect of it is enchanting, geared to gladden? What’s not to love about a big, bright zoo where everyone adores the animals they take such great care of? How are you supposed to resist the charms of literally magical creatures, in all their science-defying glory? Who doesn’t cheer to see an endangered species flourish just a little bit more? And all of it filtered through a sweetheart of a main character, who is unintentionally funny and so very passionate and terrible at public speaking?
YES PLEASE!
The plot is pretty much as described in the blurb, so I won’t go over that too much. But I really have to emphasise that MacLean makes you feel. I was stunned by how intensely I felt everything MacLean wanted me to, from sharing Aila’s anxiety, to utter outrage, to being on the literal edge of my seat as called for. And even though this is clearly a happy book, one where nothing will go really horrifically wrong – where the worst baddest thing definitely won’t happen – fellow readers, I was absolutely terrified when The Thing went down! It didn’t matter how much I told myself that no way, it wouldn’t happen, MacLean wouldn’t: I cared so much about the characters, about the phoenixes, about the zoo, that my reason abandoned me and my stomach was in knots and I was almost in tears from the tension. I would have defenestrated anyone who interrupted my reading just then! THIS IS NOT THE NORM FOR ME! In the ten months of this year, I’ve had this intense a reaction to just one other book!!!
But there’s just no way to not care, to keep any kind of emotional distance between you and the story; it doesn’t pull you in, it wraps around you like warm wings and you don’t even notice until next thing you know, there’s a phoenix-fire where your heart should be and whoops, you live here now.
I REGRET NOTHING.
I admit I was predisposed to love Phoenix Keeper – I’ve been pining for an Adult zoo or vet story about magical creatures for years now, so yes, I lit up like a phoenix when I heard about this one! Still, I’m notoriously picky; it would absolutely be possible to write this kind of story and for it to just not work for me. Whereas this did, for so many reasons. MacLean expertly wields the tone and prose (is this really her debut?!) so that Phoenix Keeper feels light and glittery even while scary things are happening, or sad ones, or when Aila’s anxiety is spiking. The writing dances, bright and quick, making for a wonderfully relaxing, easy reading experience; this is not a book that leaves you exhausted with the effort of reading it, but nor is it shallow. Phoenix Keeper manages to examine friendship and grief and passion, what it’s like to have found the thing you want to devote your life to, what it’s like to devote yourself to a goal so much bigger than you are; even what (romantic) love should and shouldn’t be, all while telling a heart-warming, incredibly joy-full story.
*chef's kiss* Absolute PERFECTION. Loved every minute of it! Rtc, if I can figure out how to put words together in a way that'll do this book justice!*chef's kiss* Absolute PERFECTION. Loved every minute of it! Rtc, if I can figure out how to put words together in a way that'll do this book justice!...more
*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my4.5 gleefilly rounded up.
Rtc!
*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.*
HIGHLIGHTS ~time to make a prophecy happen ~no one is who you think they are ~many vipers, one Cobra ~villains do it with style ~“You don’t have to kill if you don’t like it. I’ll kill them for you.” “Kill who?” “Everyone.”
Take a Thing you love about Brennan’s YA. Now, imagine the Thing is a coin. In fact, every Thing you love, have ever loved, about any and all of Brennan’s YA novels, is now a shiny gold coin.
Reader, Long Live Evil is a full-on DRAGON’S HOARD of gold – and mixed in with all the coins are gems and sceptres and ancient magic blades, ie entirely NEW Things that we have not seen before from Brennan, Things that sparkle and seduce in equal measure! TREASURES GALORE, fellow readers, treasures galore!
(And if you are BEREFT and have never read Brennan’s YA, fear not! I believe all her books are still in print, and you can pick up any and all that sound good to you. Plus, Long Live Evil requires absolutely no prior familiarity with Brennan’s works. If this is your first time reading one of her books, then WELCOME, and also, brace yourself, because this may be her best book yet, and it is one HELL of a ride!)
Rae has cancer. It’s…very bad. So when she’s offered an out, however impossible it sounds, she goes for it – and ends up in the world of her favourite series, Time of Iron.
In book one – the book she remembers the least about.
In the body of a minor villainess – and Rae does remember that this particular villain? Is getting executed tomorrow morning.
Cue a most audacious plan.
Only now did Rae see stories needed more romantic interludes and fewer assassins.
Long Live Evil is just so much freaking FUN! Brennan’s signature humour is on full display here, lambasting genre tropes and stereotypes left, right and centre. Fabulous, witty characters run rings around each other, forming plots to forward The Plot, sharing inside jokes and creating secret handshakes in-between battling monsters, politicking, and doing their best to manifest a prophecy.
But it’s balanced by a not-funny-at-all incisiveness, sometimes wry and usually sharp and very often fucking angry. Rae gets to think – and say – a lot of things a lot of AFAB people think and feel about bodies and health and politics and Fantasy, particularly vaguely-Medieval, patriarchal High or Epic Fantasy, and it’s a breath of fresh air in what can sometimes feel like a very stale genre. The number of times I thought FINALLY SOMEBODY SAID IT as I was reading! I lost count.
Because yep, you can absolutely ‘just’ read this book and allow it to entertain you, and I promise, you will be entertained–
“You speak wicked blasphemy,” hissed Emer.
“Fluently,” said Key.
–especially since Brennan is a master of writing ‘easy’ books – ones that don’t require checking a dictionary every few paragraphs, or a conspiracy board of red wool and coloured pins to keep track of everything, or that leave you exhausted after a chapter or two because damn, reading this is WORK. Reading Long Live Evil is not work. Reading Long Live Evil is a relief, and a roller-coaster, and an intensely moreish delight. And the ease-of-reading quality is priceless, okay, we need to talk about it more when we discuss books. I don’t know how someone undergoing cancer treatment would do, but I was able to read Long Live Evil when I didn’t think I could read anything at all, due to pain or ADD or *waves hand vaguely*. That MATTERS.
It matters that this is a book you can just relax into and enjoy…right up until it grabs you by the throat, anyway.
(I mean, you’ll definitely enjoy that too! But I wouldn’t call the experience relaxing.)
People say, I’ll give anything. The universe listens. But the universe doesn’t listen when you say, Wait, not that.
But – to return to my original point – if you have the desire and/or spoons to give Long Live Evil more of your attention, you will be rewarded. You will find sharp edges only barely hidden by the laughter and glamour; the knife strapped to the thigh, the venom in the pretty viper, the guile behind the innocence. Long Live Evil can be read as pure entertainment, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that: it is EXCELLENT entertainment, and any book that makes you laugh, brings you joy, is one to treasure. (There is so much laughter and so much joy in this book.) But it’s important that you know that Long Live Evil can also be read as an intricate, thorny, meta knockout; hiding clues in plain sight; containing layers and layers of spiralling depth; scything into complicated issues; unafraid of dark, heavy themes; and as merciless as it is hilarious.
Rahela’s voice cut like a dagger in a lady’s dainty hand. The weapon might be pearl-handled, but it would hurt.
It’s entirely your call how you choose to engage with this book. Neither is wrong – both are fantastic! But it’s not many storytellers who can give you that option of one or the other in the same book, and Brennan deserves so many gold stars for it, for being able to do it. Most of the time, a story is fun entertainment or deep and meaty: few are both, and even rarer are the ones that manage to do both well, to be great examples of both. Long Live Evil is one of those rare cases, proof that you don’t need to sacrifice depth or emotional complexity for ease-of-reading, exhibit A in any argument that high-brow language, dense prose, or an overly convoluted structure isn’t necessary to pull off a deep, and deeply satisfying, story.
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