Archives - April 2009

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Lois McMaster Bujold, the Sharing Knife series (Beguilement, Legacy, Passage, Horizon): Jo Walton had an interesting post on Tor.com a couple of weeks ago, about types of series, which helped crystallize some of my thoughts on why this series didn't quite work for me. It seems as though it's meant to be a series like The Lord of the Rings, which is essentially one book broken up into separate parts for publishing; in fact, if I recall correctly, the first two books of The Sharing Knife were presented as one book broken up. However, the overall feel of the series is more like what Walton calls "style two", in which there is an overarching story arc to the series, but each volume has its own story arc and closure. The problem I had is that each volume doesn't have quite enough story arc and closure; there's all too much journeying and too little action.

My other major problem were the characters, especially Dag and Fawn, the two main characters. They're from two different cultures, and essentially the books are about how they first fall in love and become a couple, and then how they start to reconcile their separate cultures. But I found both of them too perfect to be truly interesting after the initial romance part: Dag is too noble, Fawn is too cleverly intuitive, always coming up with exactly the right suggestion. I felt as though they needed some balancing imperfections to make them more real (as Miles Vorkosigan feels real: brilliant, but with serious challenges). There's insufficient cost for the resolution to feel satisfying; nobody really loses much, and I never felt as though anyone was in real danger (again unlike the Vorkosigan books).

What I did love was the worldbuilding, which is always one of Bujold's strengths. Here she gives us a frontier setting, like the American Wild West, where Dag's people are those who live with the land while Fawn's people are farmers. The magic is nature magic, the enemies (the malices) are like primeval, malevolent forces of nature. Interestingly, there are hints that the world itself developed from a more classically fantasy world, with kings and nobility.

I don't want to be too negative here, because I did enjoy the books, or I wouldn't have read all four of them, and I really loved the world. I just don't think they're Bujold's best work, though I'd love to see her return to the world and do something else there.
Sarah Monette, the Doctrine of Labyrinths series (Mélusine, The Virtu, The Mirador, Corambis): Here, on the other hand, is a series that I think perfectly typifies what Walton calls "style two". Corambis is particularly impressive in this regard, I think. It goes off in a completely different direction from the first three books; the setting is somewhere new, and nearly all the characters (save for Felix and Mildmay) are new. Yet I found it a very satisfying conclusion to the series, because although it introduces new elements and a new story arc, it also resolves Felix and Mildmay's character arcs and relationships in a believable and pleasing way. I think you could read it alone, but I think it's worlds better if you read it as the conclusion to an outstanding series.
Barbara Vine, The Birthday Present, The Brimstone Wedding: The Birthday Present is Vine's newest, and I don't think it's one of her best. The plot revolves around an MP's affair with a married woman, which turns from a potential sex scandal into something much larger when the woman is killed in a car crash during a faux kidnapping set up by the MP. Vine slowly unravels the wealth of complications caused by the kidnapping gone wrong, but there's less tension than in her best books, and the end is simply anticlimactic.

However, The Brimstone Wedding turned out to be a Vine that worked for me quite well. Jenny Warner is a caregiver at a retirement home, where she comes to know Stella Newland, who is dying of lung cancer. Stella has long held on to secrets about her life, which she eventually reveals to Jenny, secrets which resonate with Jenny's own life. Vine intertwines her narrative threads masterfully, slowly uncovering the truth behind Stella's past and Jenny's present and building both stories to a shattering climax.
Peter S. Beagle, We Never Talk About My Brother: I'm not much of a short story fan usually, but Peter Beagle is an exception to that. I look forward to a new short story collection of his just as much as I would to a new novel, and I wasn't disappointed in this one. It's perhaps not quite as strong as The Line Between (which has the wonderful followup to The Last Unicorn, "Two Hearts"), but it's excellent all the same.

One of the things I love about Beagle is his ability to write fluently in vastly different narrative voices, which is especially apparent and impressive in a story collection. Just to take the first two stories (which were probably my favorites) as examples: "Uncle Chaim and Aunt Rifke and the Angel" is narrated by a young Jewish boy in New York, while the next story, "We Never Talk About My Brother", has a much older, rather backwoods kind of narrator. Both narrators are equally compelling and have a voice that pulls me into the story quickly, as Beagle's narrators generally do.
Charles Dickens, The Old Curiosity Shop: There, I read it, and now I never have to read it again. Okay, I didn't hate it that much, I guess, but I would definitely put it at the bottom of my Dickens list. I simply didn't care for the episodic plot and the utter soppy sentimentality of Little Nell, whom I found the epitome of the Dickens character type I hate the most, the angel in the house. As Oscar Wilde said, "One must have a heart of stone to read the death of Little Nell without laughing"...or at least feeling relieved.
Octavia E. Butler, Kindred: Dana Franklin is suddenly sent back in time from 1976 California to the early nineteenth century, where her skin color causes her to be regarded as a slave. Eventually, she figures out that she's being called by her white ancestor, Rufus, and she must keep him alive in order to keep her family line alive.

As I expected, this was outstanding. Butler's prose is spare yet powerful, as her protagonist grapples with the horrors of experiencing Southern slavery. Butler pulls no punches; it's easy to write a time travel novel in which the protagonist is never really in danger, but from the first lines -- "I lost an arm on my last trip home. My left arm." -- we know this isn't going to be the case for Dana. Even several days after I read it, I was still thinking about it; I think it will be a book that stays with me for a long time.
Marjorie M. Liu, Tiger Eye: When Dela Reese acquires a riddle box from a Beijing vendor, she doesn't expect it to contain a seven-foot shapeshifting warrior, the exotic Hari. Of course, they fall in love; of course, there are dangers, as both are pursued by different enemies. I'm glad I followed various advice to start with the second book of the series (Shadow Touch), because although I didn't dislike this one, I think I might not have kept on with the series afterward. I rather liked Dela and Hari and the interesting reversal of power, but the plot was just all over the place -- it felt like the second half of the book barely belonged to the first half, and a lot of the second half seemed to be set-up for later books, introducing characters I assume will be featured later. (Is there a book about Eddie yet? I liked him best.)
Alan Brennert, Moloka'i: a very good historical novel about the leper colony on Moloka'i. Rachel Kalama is sent there at the age of seven, separated from her parents, and forced to make a new life among her fellow sufferers. The details of time and place are excellent, and Rachel is a sympathetic, strong heroine.
Patricia Gaffney, Forever and Ever: This turned out to be my least favorite of the three Wyckerley novels, lacking the angst of To Have and to Hold and the sweetness of To Love and to Cherish. The class issues between the hero and heroine never really got resolved, just ignored, and the resolution didn't quite come together for me.
Edith Wharton, The Glimpses of the Moon: Though strongly attracted to each other, Nick and Susy can't afford to get married and live in high society, but they make each other a deal: they'll get married and stay married as long as they can, but when they run out of money, they're free to divorce and remarry more advantageously. Their plan goes rather awry, however, when they start to feel more deeply about each other than they expected and must negotiate not only their financial situation but also their different ethical systems.

This reminded me of both The House of Mirth, in subject (as though Lily and Selden had decided to get married), and The Custom of the Country, in tone (which is much lighter than The House of Mirth). It's not as successful as either, perhaps because of the contrast of subject and tone and perhaps because Nick isn't as sharply drawn as Susy and doesn't stand up to her depth as a character, but it's interesting nevertheless.
Jan Struther, Mrs. Miniver: More a series of episodes (originally written as such for the Times) than a novel, Mrs. Miniver is a sensitive, beautifully written look at life in England with the threat of World War II looming. Mrs. Miniver (whose first name we don't learn until nearly the end) is quietly intelligent and observant, noting moments of humor and beauty as she deals with the travails and delights of her daily life. (Note that I've never seen the movie, but my impression of it is that the plot at least doesn't have a lot in common with the book.)
Rosemary Kirstein, the Steerswoman series (The Steerswoman, The Outskirter's Secret, The Lost Steersman, The Language of Power: I loved these, and they were perfect travel reading (I finished the second and read the entirety of the third and fourth on the planes to London). Rowan is a Steerswoman, one of an order of people (mostly women) who are dedicated to seeking, sharing, and storing information. She has become interested in some mysterious jewels and joins up with Bel, a warrior woman from the land's outskirts, to search for their origin, which proves to be tied up with the powerful, enigmatic wizards. Suddenly, Rowan and Bel are involved in something much bigger than they expected, with enormous implications for the Steerswomen and for everyone in their world.

Steerswoman is now my dream job (no surprise, right?), and I just loved Rowan's common sense and intelligence and ability to observe and apply her observations. I loved Bel, too, and particularly the second book, in which the two of them travel to the outskirts and Rowan learns more about Bel's society. Really, I thought these were so good that I can't really come up with anything more articulate about them; if you like speculative fiction and haven't read them, you really should. I know Kirstein is working on the next book, and it can't come too soon for me. (I think there are supposed to be at least two or three more?)


Last updated 14 June 2009. All text and photographs © George Mitchell and Margaret Johnston, unless otherwise noted Comments, questions, suggestions to margaret@lonelymountain.net.