One more year crawls across the finish line, and the month's twelve reads have been archived to the main Brightdreamer Books site so it’s time for yet another Reading Year in Review.
January kicked off with an exciting space adventure, The Exiled Fleet, second in the Divide series by J. S. Dewes, and wrapped with another fun (if very different) book, Jessica Townsend’s middle-grade fantasy Nevermoor. In between was a variety of mostly interesting titles, from the utterly unique Light From Uncommon Stars (Ryka Aoki) to the “weird West” Wake of Vultures (Lila Bowen). For nonfiction, I delved into an intriguing, if sadly already dated in its optimism, look at how humans might survive mass catastrophe in Scatter, Adapt, and Remember by Annalee Newitz.
February began with one of the older titles I’ve reviewed, Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward, which posited a utopian future beyond the selfish greed of capitalism. I also got around to John Bellairs’s whimsical wizardry in The Face in the Frost, and checked out Lois Duncan’s Killing Mr. Griffin from my local library’s Frequently Banned Book list. There were a few disappointments, though. In particular, Shelby Van Pelt’s popular novel Remarkably Bright Creatures left me underwhelmed despite all the hype around it. I also expected more from A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers, and Robin Sloan’s Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore failed to live up to all the buzz I recalled. Alix E. Harrow returned to her Fractured Fables world with the dark, thought-provoking A Mirror Mended. The month wrapped up with Sunyi Dean’s The Book Eaters, which created an intriguing subspecies of vampiric humans who consume books like blood, but which ultimately didn't quite deliver the story I'd hoped for.
March’s highlights included Neil Gaiman’s homage to Rudyard Kipling in The Graveyard Book, Nghi Vo’s return to the world of Singing Hills in the novella Into the Riverlands, and the nonfiction story of the search for a lost Mayan city in Douglas Preston’s The Lost City of the Monkey God. I also enjoyed the hard science fiction of Saturn Run, by John Sanford and Ctien, and the classic space horror novella Nightflyers by George R. R. Martin. David James Warren’s time traveling mystery story, Cast the First Stone, left me cold, unfortunately, as did the X-Files-like conspiracy thriller The Darkest Time of Night by Jeremy Finley.
In honor of April showers (that would theoretically bring May flowers), April’s first book was the middle-grade story of an aspiring meteorologist and stormchaser in Ginger Zee’s Chasing Helicity. The month as a whole proved to be a mixed bag, however. While I enjoyed the updated paleontology of Dinosaurs Rediscovered by Michal J. Benton and the return to the space adventures of "finder" Fergus Ferguson in The Scavenger Door by Suzanne Palmer, I found Alex Jennings's fantastical tribute to the spirit of New Orleans, The Ballad of Perilous Graves, too surreal for its own good despite a great premise and interesting ideas. Charlie Jane Anders impressed with the essay collection Never Say You Can’t Survive, a call to keep fighting on and creating despite the very dark turns the world as a whole seems to be taking. Though technically a prequel, Michael J. Sullivan’s Age of Myth had a nice, old-school fantasy feel to it that I hope to get back to one of these days (Libby and my local library’s audiobook selection willing).
May started with a whirlwind tour of obscure American cryptids in J. W. Ocker’s The United States of Cryptids and ended with the middle-grade fantasy chiller The Thickety by J. A. White. I also finally got around to reading H. P. Lovecraft’s classic tale At the Mountains of Madness, part of his cosmic horror milieu that has remained influential to this day (but which I don’t one hundred percent click with, for all that I could appreciate the imagery and ideas). I quite enjoyed my first James Riley title, the middle grade fantasy adventure Story Thieves, as well as Meg Long’s young adult science fiction tale Cold the Night, Fast the Wolves. Monica L. Smith described the history and possible future of humanity’s greatest innovation in Cities. Two more frequently banned books made it into the list, with Marion Dane Bauer’s On My Honor and Walder Dean Myers’s Monster.
June turned out to be my most prolific reading month of the year, though not without its low spots. It kicked off with Lev Grossman’s cynical take on portal fantasies and magical schools in The Magicians, which had promise but ultimately left me disliking the characters and world too much to enjoy. Another popular author that sadly disappointed in this outing was Mary Robinette Kowal in her retro-future light sleuthing tale The Spare Man, leaning into a Nick and Nora Charles banter dynamic that just failed to click with the setting or with me as a reader. Surprise enjoyments were the teen spy thriller The Athena Protocol by Shamim Sarif and Dale Lucas’s mashup of police procedural and fantasy in First Watch. I also visited a few classics, such as Michael Moorcock’s iconic Elric of Melnibone and H. A. DeRosso’s noir Western 0.44. An impulse buy at the used bookstore proved just as light and entertaining as promised, Simon R. Green’s Blue Moon Rising, while Ben Guterson’s middle-grade tale a magic-tinged mountain resort, Winterhouse, intrigued. My month’s nonfiction title was a collection of odd historical and prehistorical trivia in Adrienne Mayor’s Flying Snakes and Griffin Claws.
I kicked off July with Peter Bognanni’s love letter to movies in the young adult tale This Book Is Not Yet Rated, which had a lot more heart and interest than I anticipated, and wrapped the month by finally getting around to Larry McMurtry’s classic Western epic Lonesome Dove. In between were several solid reads/listens, with high points being Stephen King’s The Body, Seanan McGuire’s Lost in the Moment and Found, Colson Whitehead’s The Nickel Boys, James S. A. Corey’s standalone short How It Unfolds, and A. Deborah Baker’s return to the Up-and-Under in Into the Windwracked Wilds. The much-lauded dragon academy/romance tale Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros mostly lived up to its hype, though I found myself let down by Edward Ashton’s Mickey7. Clive Finlayson explored a fascinating world of Neanderthals and how our understanding of them has been rewritten in recent years in The Smart Neanderthal.
In August, I explored racial injustices and their deep roots with Dr. Robin DiAngelo’s White Fragility, took a look at futures that failed to manifest in Daniel H. Wilson’s Where’s My Jetpack?, explored a “lost world” and forgotten tale of survival and sensationalism in Mitchel Zuckoff’s Lost in Shangri-La, and toured the human skeleton through the lens of forensic anthropology in Sue Black’s Written in Bone. For fiction, I had my usual random mix of tales with my usual random reactions. Neil Gaiman’s modern classic American Gods and Josiah Bancroft’s surreal take on a Tower of Babylon that never fell in Senlin Ascends impressed, as did Stephen King’s dark classic Pet Sematary. S. A. Patrick’s wonderful middle-grade fantasy A Darkening of Dragons entertained me enough to almost immediately seek out its sequel, A Vanishing of Griffins, both of which leave me eagerly anticipating the next installment in the Songs of Magic series. On the other end of the spectrum, Elizabeth Peters’s Crocodile on the Sandbank, first in a long-running popular series of historical fiction mysteries set among English archaeologists in Egypt, showed its age even as it delivered a serviceable story, as did Poul Anderson’s Three Hearts and Three Lions.
September opened with another classic, this one holding up rather better, in Graham Greene’s The Third Man, a book written to help the author flesh out the screenplay for the classic noir movie. Another classic, Lois Lowry’s dystopian The Giver, aged a little less well but still had solid emotional impact. I revisited the zombie apocalpse of Mira Grant’s Newsflesh series with Rise, the collection of short stories and novellas filling out events before and after the main trilogy, and ventured into the dens of 1970’s vampires living under New York City with Christopher Buelhman’s dark tale The Lesser Dead. Elise Hurst’s collection of imaginative ink drawings acted as spurs for the imagination in The Storyteller’s Handbook, while Mark Manson offered life advice in The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. Despite my skepticism over Sherlock Holmes pastiches, I found the Western take on it offered in Steve Hockensmith’s Holmes on the Range unexpectedly amusing.
I opened October with a father’s tall tale of a milk run gone sour in Neil Gaiman’s Fortunately, the Milk, and ended it with Arik Kershenbaum’s speculation on how alien life might evolve in The Zoologist’s Guide to the Galaxy. Between, I continued the Books of Babel series with Josiah Bancroft’s Arm of the Sphinx, revisited Stephen King with the novella The Mist, and ventured into another middle grade classic with Sharon Creech’s Walk Two Moons. Moniquill Blackgoose offered an utterly unique alternate history of conquering Vikings, conquered Native Americans, and dragons in To Shape a Dragon’s Breath. The light sci-fi/military comedy Mechanical Failure by Joe Zieja brought some smiles, more than the light graphic novel fantasy Three Little Wishes by Paul Cornell. John Geiger explored an unusual phenomenon in The Third Man Factor, where humans in high stress situations can sense or even see a person who is not there. And Buelman’s vampires returned (though technically this story came first) in The Suicide Motor Club.
In November, Natalie Lloyd’s middle-grade fantasy of flying horses, Over the Moon, didn’t rise quite as high as it promised. Similarly, the Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves prequel, The Road to Neverwinter, felt a little too much like a road already traveled (and traveled better) in the movie. H. Beam Piper’s classic science fiction tale, Little Fuzzy, showed its age despite some interesting ideas. The bonds of sisterhood, stressed by unusual circumstances, were explored in Oyinkan Braithwaite’s My Sister, the Serial Killer and Cat Clarke’s The Lost and the Found, and a father reflects on the legacy he gifted his son (and whether that legacy contributed to his disappearance) in Roman Dial’s The Adventurer’s Son. Odd and the Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman lightened the reading mood up a bit, while Susan Hood related a harrowing tale of wartime survival in Lifeboat 12 and K. L. Going’s Fat Kid Rules the World explored the painful inner world of a borderline-suicidal teen rediscovering a reason to live through punk rock. Mallory O’Meara shed light on a long-forgotten trailblazer and horror movie icon, the woman who designed the classic Creature from the Black Lagoon costume (and was subsequently erased by Bud Westmore and studio executives), in the biographical Lady from the Black Lagoon.
December kicked off with an alternate-history gumshoe searching 1940’s Chicago for an occult serial killer in C. L. Polk’s excellent Even Though I Knew the End. There were a few disappointments, such as Lish McBride’s Hold Me Closer, Necromancer and a space opera reboot of King Arthur, Cori McCarthy and A. R. Capetta’s Once and Future, but also one of the best reads of the year in Alix E. Harrow’s alternate-history fantasy The Once and Future Witches. I tried the classic children’s fantasy The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald, but preferred the genre classic Dreamsnake by Vonda N. McIntyre. Peter Godfrey-Smith’s explorations of the evolution of intelligence, particularly in octopuses, in Other Minds made for some interesting food for thought. I finished off the year with the third installment of Josiah Bancroft’s Books of Babel series, The Hod King.
The year also ended with my internet service provider’s modem/router developing an interesting glitch, in that I could no longer see my own website in any browser, on any device using our ISP for internet access. (I could, however, still see my site through other networks, and confirmed that it was still up and available to the world at large. I can also update files. I just can't view the results unless I take my phone off the home wifi and use the 4G/5G network - and even that can be spotty.) Having done every online remedy I could find, from cache clearances to disabling various things to unplugging/replugging and resetting anything that could be reset, I’m officially out of ideas save a factory reset - a drastic option that may break more than it fixes - or getting a new modem/router from the ISP. Rectifying this problem, with all associated headaches (because we have never had one device from this outfit just plug in and work without at least one round of tech support having to visit the actual house), will probably eat the start of next year, or whenever I can get the go-ahead to tackle the problem. (Me not being able to view my own website on our internet service is a "me" problem, while messing up the network for the household is an "everyone" problem.) If I didn’t already suspect 2024 will be aggravating beyond words, this would be one of those signs…
In any event, apparently this was my most productive reading year since I started keeping my blog, due in very large part to workplace boredom and the Libby app's audiobook capabilities. In the coming year, I hope to whittle down my at-home TBR (To Be Read) pile, and dig into sequels and series I've started and keep meaning to follow through on. We shall see how that goes (see also: high likelihood that 2024 will be aggravating beyond words)...
Sunday, December 31, 2023
Friday, December 29, 2023
The Hod King (Josiah Bancroft)
The Hod King
The Books of Babel series, Book 3
Josiah Bancroft
Orbit
Fiction, Fantasy
**** (Good)
DESCRIPTION: It's hard to believe that, a year ago, Thomas Senlin was an unremarkable, mild-mannered schoolteacher from a small coastal town, on his way to a honeymoon holiday with his new young wife Marya at the legendary Tower of Babel. Back then, he thought he understood the world and the people in it. Back then, he thought he was just setting out on a simple vacation before settling down to the modest life of a married man. Back then, he knew nothing at all...
Now an agent of the enigmatic figure known as the Sphinx, who crafts bizarre mechanical marvels and weaves inscrutable plots from high in the tower, Senlin at last reaches the affluent ringdom of Pelphia. His long-lost wife, Marya, has been married to a local duke, and she herself is the toast of the town, known as the Mermaid in the local gossip papers for her enchanting singing voice. It's hard to conceive that she'd want to go back to life as a simple schoolmaster's wife after a year in the lap of luxury, or that she'd embrace a man who has turned to thievery, deception, violence, and piracy, his once-rigid moral code now distinctly distorted by what he's had to do to survive. He even has developed confusing, unwelcome feelings for a companion, Edith. Still, he has pursued Marya for too long to quit now, and he feels he must at least make the attempt to reconnect and get an answer once and for all.
As Thomas conducts his undercover mission, his companions have their own mission for the Sphinx: aboard the State of the Art, the most advanced airship ever to fly, newly-promoted Captain Edith, wild girl Voleta, steadfast bodyguard Iren, and two new companions - the uptight stag-headed valet Byron and the resurrected monstrous assassin the Red Hand - are to serve as the Sphinx's emissaries, scouring the ringdoms for the missing paintings that contain the last secret of the legendary Tower architect, the Brick Layer: the code that will unlock the final purpose of the grand tower. But it may already be too late; word is spreading on the streets and in the hidden slave passages of the coming of the "Hod King" - a promise of rebellion at the least, and possibly the destruction of the Tower of Babel itself.
REVIEW: The third installment retains much of the same tone and pacing as the rest of the series, just as the Tower of Babel and its inhabitants retain a sheen of surrealism. Thomas Senlin has been much tried and tested and changed by his experiences and his failures; he does not even pretend to himself anymore that he's the same man he was before coming to the tower, the same man who married Marya, nor can he pretend that she'll be the same woman he knew. Still, he needs closure, if nothing else, and thus determines to track her down and ask her if she would prefer life as his wife or the one she has found on the arm of of the Pelphian duke. The ringdom of Pelphia itself, grown rich on its cloth and fashion industry, is stuffed to the gills with pretension and self-importance, in a way even the baths on the third ringdom could only dream of; the university has long been abandoned and converted into a coliseum where hods fight for the amusement (and gambling opportunities) of the wealthy, while the newspapers are full of gossip and empty of anything resembling actual news. Marya has become a society darling, her (rather fictionlized) story the subject of a popular musical play - one that Senlin, against his better judgement, can't help but see, and which makes him further question his own role in her life and future. Even as he plots to find a way to get close to her without alerting his many powerful enemies, he also keeps an eye peeled on the Sphinx's behalf for trouble, particularly that fomented by Luc Marat's zealot followers, who seem to be stepping up their campaign to destabilize the Tower and incite a slave uprising... or possibly something even worse. If Thomas thought the Tower had run out of trials and lessons for him, he is quickly disabused of the notion.
Meanwhile, Edith - still processing her own mixed feelings about Thomas Senlin - has her own mission to pursue, along with Voleta and Iren. The girl, under Byron's strict (and often flustered) tutelage, must infiltrate high Pelthian society, even as Edith acts as the Sphinx's ambassador to negotiate the return of the Brick Layer's painting, the one that forms part of the puzzle the Sphinx is so desperate to solve. Even given her inherent immaturity, Voleta could be remarkably obtuse and incapable at times, though she finally starts to grow up a bit as she sees more consequences of her actions. Aging bodyguard Iren continues her slow, halting personal evolution from stoic enforcer to someone more human, someone less detatched from her own emotions and other people, driven in no small part by her devotion to Voleta. And Edith, still unsure of her own feelings toward Senlin, does her best to play the ambassador, though even she finds herself bedazzled by Pelphia's glamour and the few friendly-seeming faces in the crowd. Byron the stag-man gets some development, too, in his first journey beyond the sanctuary of the Sphinx's ringdom, while the resurrected Red Hand offers some unexpected wrinkles. As in previous volumes, chapters start with snippets and excerpts from in-world sources that add color and, often, foreshadowing.
The tale starts off fairly fast, picking up about where the previous one left off, and keeps moving and ratcheting up the stakes and complications until the end, setting up what promises to be a cataclysmic final volume. I'm looking forward to finishing off this series.
You Might Also Enjoy:
Senlin Ascends (Josiah Bancroft) - My Review
City of Stairs (Robert Jackson Bennett) - My Review
A Master of Djinn (P. Djeli Clark) - My Review
The Books of Babel series, Book 3
Josiah Bancroft
Orbit
Fiction, Fantasy
**** (Good)
DESCRIPTION: It's hard to believe that, a year ago, Thomas Senlin was an unremarkable, mild-mannered schoolteacher from a small coastal town, on his way to a honeymoon holiday with his new young wife Marya at the legendary Tower of Babel. Back then, he thought he understood the world and the people in it. Back then, he thought he was just setting out on a simple vacation before settling down to the modest life of a married man. Back then, he knew nothing at all...
Now an agent of the enigmatic figure known as the Sphinx, who crafts bizarre mechanical marvels and weaves inscrutable plots from high in the tower, Senlin at last reaches the affluent ringdom of Pelphia. His long-lost wife, Marya, has been married to a local duke, and she herself is the toast of the town, known as the Mermaid in the local gossip papers for her enchanting singing voice. It's hard to conceive that she'd want to go back to life as a simple schoolmaster's wife after a year in the lap of luxury, or that she'd embrace a man who has turned to thievery, deception, violence, and piracy, his once-rigid moral code now distinctly distorted by what he's had to do to survive. He even has developed confusing, unwelcome feelings for a companion, Edith. Still, he has pursued Marya for too long to quit now, and he feels he must at least make the attempt to reconnect and get an answer once and for all.
As Thomas conducts his undercover mission, his companions have their own mission for the Sphinx: aboard the State of the Art, the most advanced airship ever to fly, newly-promoted Captain Edith, wild girl Voleta, steadfast bodyguard Iren, and two new companions - the uptight stag-headed valet Byron and the resurrected monstrous assassin the Red Hand - are to serve as the Sphinx's emissaries, scouring the ringdoms for the missing paintings that contain the last secret of the legendary Tower architect, the Brick Layer: the code that will unlock the final purpose of the grand tower. But it may already be too late; word is spreading on the streets and in the hidden slave passages of the coming of the "Hod King" - a promise of rebellion at the least, and possibly the destruction of the Tower of Babel itself.
REVIEW: The third installment retains much of the same tone and pacing as the rest of the series, just as the Tower of Babel and its inhabitants retain a sheen of surrealism. Thomas Senlin has been much tried and tested and changed by his experiences and his failures; he does not even pretend to himself anymore that he's the same man he was before coming to the tower, the same man who married Marya, nor can he pretend that she'll be the same woman he knew. Still, he needs closure, if nothing else, and thus determines to track her down and ask her if she would prefer life as his wife or the one she has found on the arm of of the Pelphian duke. The ringdom of Pelphia itself, grown rich on its cloth and fashion industry, is stuffed to the gills with pretension and self-importance, in a way even the baths on the third ringdom could only dream of; the university has long been abandoned and converted into a coliseum where hods fight for the amusement (and gambling opportunities) of the wealthy, while the newspapers are full of gossip and empty of anything resembling actual news. Marya has become a society darling, her (rather fictionlized) story the subject of a popular musical play - one that Senlin, against his better judgement, can't help but see, and which makes him further question his own role in her life and future. Even as he plots to find a way to get close to her without alerting his many powerful enemies, he also keeps an eye peeled on the Sphinx's behalf for trouble, particularly that fomented by Luc Marat's zealot followers, who seem to be stepping up their campaign to destabilize the Tower and incite a slave uprising... or possibly something even worse. If Thomas thought the Tower had run out of trials and lessons for him, he is quickly disabused of the notion.
Meanwhile, Edith - still processing her own mixed feelings about Thomas Senlin - has her own mission to pursue, along with Voleta and Iren. The girl, under Byron's strict (and often flustered) tutelage, must infiltrate high Pelthian society, even as Edith acts as the Sphinx's ambassador to negotiate the return of the Brick Layer's painting, the one that forms part of the puzzle the Sphinx is so desperate to solve. Even given her inherent immaturity, Voleta could be remarkably obtuse and incapable at times, though she finally starts to grow up a bit as she sees more consequences of her actions. Aging bodyguard Iren continues her slow, halting personal evolution from stoic enforcer to someone more human, someone less detatched from her own emotions and other people, driven in no small part by her devotion to Voleta. And Edith, still unsure of her own feelings toward Senlin, does her best to play the ambassador, though even she finds herself bedazzled by Pelphia's glamour and the few friendly-seeming faces in the crowd. Byron the stag-man gets some development, too, in his first journey beyond the sanctuary of the Sphinx's ringdom, while the resurrected Red Hand offers some unexpected wrinkles. As in previous volumes, chapters start with snippets and excerpts from in-world sources that add color and, often, foreshadowing.
The tale starts off fairly fast, picking up about where the previous one left off, and keeps moving and ratcheting up the stakes and complications until the end, setting up what promises to be a cataclysmic final volume. I'm looking forward to finishing off this series.
You Might Also Enjoy:
Senlin Ascends (Josiah Bancroft) - My Review
City of Stairs (Robert Jackson Bennett) - My Review
A Master of Djinn (P. Djeli Clark) - My Review
Wednesday, December 27, 2023
The Silver Metal Lover (Tanith Lee)
The Silver Metal Lover
The S.I.L.V.E.R. series, Book 1
Tanith Lee
Tantor
Fiction, Romance/Sci-Fi
***+ (Okay/Good)
DESCRIPTION: Jane has lived her sixteen years under the shadows of her mother Demeta and her privilege. The world often overwhelms and confuses her, so she welcomes others who tell her what and how to think and shape her life for her, even if she never seems to be anyone's priority and isn't even sure she likes the circle of friends she runs with, many of whom are petty, selfish, and cruel in that way of the idle rich. Jane never stops to ask what she wants for herself... until she sees the silver man on the theater steps - no, not a man, but a new line of robot by preeminent manufacturer Electronic Metals. Unlike the clunky, more functional variety she's used to, many of which are little more than a box with a screen, Silver walks and talks like a human, and can even play instruments and sing, as well as perform any other task a human master might desire to make them happy. From the first time she sets eyes on Silver, Jane finds herself beset by feelings so strange and so big she doesn't even know what they are. Is it fear? Is it hate? Or - God and the heavens help her - is it love? And is she merely projecting when she sees similar emotions in his fox-bright mechanical eyes looking back at her?
She doesn't dare tell anyone what she feels, or thinks she feels. But she cannot shake the notion that, despite everything she knows about robots, there's something more to this one. Even if she is right, though, this is a love seemingly doomed before it starts. Because Silver, when all is said and done, is just property, a prototype exhibition piece far beyond even her generous allowance... and in a world where so little is left to humans alone, so few jobs for the seething masses beneath the ivory towers of the wealthy that haven't already been replaced, a robot that displays true creativity and perhaps even a soul - that is essentially indistinguishable from a person - may well be one step too far.
REVIEW: First published in 1981, the futuristic Gilded Age of the The Silver Metal Lover feels strangely fresh and relevant in a time when "artificial intelligence" has damaged so many creative careers (though, unlike the robots in this book, AI has nothing like self-awareness or independent creativity); for all that the masses rallying against yet another threat to the meager livelihoods and niches left to living humans sometimes seem like fearful peasants, one can understand just why they're so desperate and feel so unheard by the wealthy and the tech firms that keep pushing more and more of them over the brink into inescapable poverty. Lee also envisions a future that is casually accepting of nonbinary individuals, though even in a society this tolerant, expressing amorous feelings for what most regard as a jumped-up appliance counts as a step over the line of propriety.
Early on, Jane comes across as sheltered and spoiled, immature and weak-willed, and that is exactly what she is. Raised by a mother who didn't really want an independent daughter with a mind of her own but some sort of living doll or status symbol - Demeta constantly undermines her independence and confidence, and treats motherhood as a task that can be done more efficiently without all that pesky sentiment or exhausting listening, even relying on prepared color and body type charts to arrange the "proper" hair style and nutrient levels to produce Jane's optimal look - and surrounded by "friends" who largely seem incapable of caring for other people, not even themselves in some cases, the deck is stacked against Jane in any way except wealth. She literally has grown up in a castle in the sky, a lofty skyscraper among the clouds over the city, and has a habit of feeling the pains and emotions of those around her, possibly because she has never really been allowed to have any feelings or even opinions of her own. When she sees the robot Silver, she doesn't even recognize the emotion she's struck with, reacting like a small child whose feelings are too big to process: she lashes out verbally and runs away, physically ill. Slowly, clumsily, she begins to parse those big feelings, and in the process begins to grow up and think on her own. It's not easy or simple for her, though, when she has had virtually no healthy, mature role models in her life. And even when she does name the thing she's feeling, how can she possibly hope that those feelings can be reciprocated by a machine? Silver, for his part, tells her this more than once... but he is kind and patient, and it eventually becomes apparent that, yes, there is something a little more to him than his makers envisioned (hardly a spoiler - I mean, can you really read the Description and not think that'll be a plot point?). He does some growing and changing and self-discovery, too, so the relationship eventually becomes less lopsided than it starts. Jane sacrifices a lot in the name of love... though much of what she gives up, she soon realizes had no true worth to her at all, as she starts seeing her life and her world with new eyes. The life she rebuilds on her own has the feel of a waking dream, something so beautiful and perfect that it cannot seem destined to last.
My feelings on the book wavered throughout. At first, the immature heroine was a little offputting, as were her companions, the friends and distant mother, who kept her so childish she couldn't even recognize her first brush with love. Once it dug into the complicated relationship between Jane and Silver, though, the story strengthened. Neither Jane nor Silver forget that he is technically a piece of hardware, yet both are somewhat aware from the start that their bond is atypical, and both are changed significantly. Both also are clear-eyed enough to see just why people, especially the ever-increasing numbers of the poor, view tech like Silver as a very real threat, though the truest danger to their bond comes from elsewhere. Some bits at the end finally knocked a half-star back off the rating, as it ventures into metaphysical territory and also starts seeming stretched out. Other than that, though, it held up much better than many of its contemporaries.
You Might Also Enjoy:
A Psalm for the Wild-Built (Becky Chambers) - My Review
The Ship Who Sang (Anne McCaffrey) - My Review
All Systems Red (Martha Wells) - My Review
The S.I.L.V.E.R. series, Book 1
Tanith Lee
Tantor
Fiction, Romance/Sci-Fi
***+ (Okay/Good)
DESCRIPTION: Jane has lived her sixteen years under the shadows of her mother Demeta and her privilege. The world often overwhelms and confuses her, so she welcomes others who tell her what and how to think and shape her life for her, even if she never seems to be anyone's priority and isn't even sure she likes the circle of friends she runs with, many of whom are petty, selfish, and cruel in that way of the idle rich. Jane never stops to ask what she wants for herself... until she sees the silver man on the theater steps - no, not a man, but a new line of robot by preeminent manufacturer Electronic Metals. Unlike the clunky, more functional variety she's used to, many of which are little more than a box with a screen, Silver walks and talks like a human, and can even play instruments and sing, as well as perform any other task a human master might desire to make them happy. From the first time she sets eyes on Silver, Jane finds herself beset by feelings so strange and so big she doesn't even know what they are. Is it fear? Is it hate? Or - God and the heavens help her - is it love? And is she merely projecting when she sees similar emotions in his fox-bright mechanical eyes looking back at her?
She doesn't dare tell anyone what she feels, or thinks she feels. But she cannot shake the notion that, despite everything she knows about robots, there's something more to this one. Even if she is right, though, this is a love seemingly doomed before it starts. Because Silver, when all is said and done, is just property, a prototype exhibition piece far beyond even her generous allowance... and in a world where so little is left to humans alone, so few jobs for the seething masses beneath the ivory towers of the wealthy that haven't already been replaced, a robot that displays true creativity and perhaps even a soul - that is essentially indistinguishable from a person - may well be one step too far.
REVIEW: First published in 1981, the futuristic Gilded Age of the The Silver Metal Lover feels strangely fresh and relevant in a time when "artificial intelligence" has damaged so many creative careers (though, unlike the robots in this book, AI has nothing like self-awareness or independent creativity); for all that the masses rallying against yet another threat to the meager livelihoods and niches left to living humans sometimes seem like fearful peasants, one can understand just why they're so desperate and feel so unheard by the wealthy and the tech firms that keep pushing more and more of them over the brink into inescapable poverty. Lee also envisions a future that is casually accepting of nonbinary individuals, though even in a society this tolerant, expressing amorous feelings for what most regard as a jumped-up appliance counts as a step over the line of propriety.
Early on, Jane comes across as sheltered and spoiled, immature and weak-willed, and that is exactly what she is. Raised by a mother who didn't really want an independent daughter with a mind of her own but some sort of living doll or status symbol - Demeta constantly undermines her independence and confidence, and treats motherhood as a task that can be done more efficiently without all that pesky sentiment or exhausting listening, even relying on prepared color and body type charts to arrange the "proper" hair style and nutrient levels to produce Jane's optimal look - and surrounded by "friends" who largely seem incapable of caring for other people, not even themselves in some cases, the deck is stacked against Jane in any way except wealth. She literally has grown up in a castle in the sky, a lofty skyscraper among the clouds over the city, and has a habit of feeling the pains and emotions of those around her, possibly because she has never really been allowed to have any feelings or even opinions of her own. When she sees the robot Silver, she doesn't even recognize the emotion she's struck with, reacting like a small child whose feelings are too big to process: she lashes out verbally and runs away, physically ill. Slowly, clumsily, she begins to parse those big feelings, and in the process begins to grow up and think on her own. It's not easy or simple for her, though, when she has had virtually no healthy, mature role models in her life. And even when she does name the thing she's feeling, how can she possibly hope that those feelings can be reciprocated by a machine? Silver, for his part, tells her this more than once... but he is kind and patient, and it eventually becomes apparent that, yes, there is something a little more to him than his makers envisioned (hardly a spoiler - I mean, can you really read the Description and not think that'll be a plot point?). He does some growing and changing and self-discovery, too, so the relationship eventually becomes less lopsided than it starts. Jane sacrifices a lot in the name of love... though much of what she gives up, she soon realizes had no true worth to her at all, as she starts seeing her life and her world with new eyes. The life she rebuilds on her own has the feel of a waking dream, something so beautiful and perfect that it cannot seem destined to last.
My feelings on the book wavered throughout. At first, the immature heroine was a little offputting, as were her companions, the friends and distant mother, who kept her so childish she couldn't even recognize her first brush with love. Once it dug into the complicated relationship between Jane and Silver, though, the story strengthened. Neither Jane nor Silver forget that he is technically a piece of hardware, yet both are somewhat aware from the start that their bond is atypical, and both are changed significantly. Both also are clear-eyed enough to see just why people, especially the ever-increasing numbers of the poor, view tech like Silver as a very real threat, though the truest danger to their bond comes from elsewhere. Some bits at the end finally knocked a half-star back off the rating, as it ventures into metaphysical territory and also starts seeming stretched out. Other than that, though, it held up much better than many of its contemporaries.
You Might Also Enjoy:
A Psalm for the Wild-Built (Becky Chambers) - My Review
The Ship Who Sang (Anne McCaffrey) - My Review
All Systems Red (Martha Wells) - My Review
Saturday, December 23, 2023
You Need More Money (Matt Manero)
You Need More Money: Wake Up and Solve Your Financial Problems Once and For All
Matt Manero
Portfolio
Nonfiction, Finance
***+ (Okay/Good)
DESCRIPTION: What does it mean to be wealthy, or even financially healthy? For most, it means having a few months' cushion in the bank and a decently reliable income stream. This is better than many people have in today's America, and should be good enough to see one through. Right?
Wrong.
It only takes one unforeseen incident to topple the "good enough" wagon - and unforeseen incidents are almost a given unless you're living in a bubble. It doesn't help that everything's getting more expensive; the retirement savings that worked for the previous generation are unlikely to last more than a few years for today's workforce. Even if you think you're doing okay, stashing a little aside here and there for the future, odds are very good it's not nearly enough. So what, in today's world of rising costs and stagnant wages, is one supposed to do about it? The first step is to wake up and see the problem while there's still an outside chance of course correction. Successful entrepeneur and finance speaker Matt Manero offers a wake-up call to those who think "good enough" is good at all, with questions to ask oneself and a roadmap for taking control of your financial life.
REVIEW: I live under no delusions that I'm anything but poor. This "wake up call" is not one I need; it's the "what to do about it" that proves elusive. Once again, however, the "what to do about it" in this book applies mostly to people who are already higher on the social and financial rung than I am, and at the very least are in (or have access to) white-collar sectors; there really isn't a ton here that's useful to warehouse workers, especially ones who lack anything like a marketable "super power" to capitalize on, unless "taking things out of totes" can be transformed into a six-figure income. (I did have to chuckle at the idea of checking what similar jobs to mine pay via sites like Glassdoor to negotiate for higher pay, as I listened to this audiobook at work... I'm the level of employee that the people on Glassdoor eliminate en masse at a stroke of a pen to earn themselves a bonus for saving the company money.)
That said, Manero does offer some decent advice. He also does not expect every reader to run out and start their own business, as some finance gurus seem to insist; he acknowledges that not everyone is cut out for that, that there are benefits to not being the boss, and he offers suggestions for getting the most out of being employed, such as how to improve one's visibility and effectively bargain for raises or seek greener pastures elsewhere. In other areas, though, he's very vague. Research risks on investments, he says... but where? And how does one separate the wheat from the chaff on investment advice and advisors, especially when one's a newbie? "Become interesting" to help with networking and finding new areas to explore, he says... right after insisting that the first thing one should do is eliminate any and all nonessential spending, and anything like a hobby ought to be monetized to justify time and energy spent on it (because all effort not spent on "stacking and racking" money before hitting the big goal is wasted), and any time not spent actively working should be spent considering where and how to obtain even more revenue streams (save his five-to-ten minutes of mental downtime he allows himself daily). So... when exactly is one supposed to be able to pursue the interesting-for-the-sake-of-interest things, and with what money (because even a walk in the park requires, at the least, bus fare to the park)? Though this is a relatively recent title, there are already signs of it aging; he mentions Twitter as a great place to network, especially because it's free - blissfully unaware of who would purchase it and what they would do to it, and how they would sell the appearance of credibility with a meaningless checkmark. He also mentions how skills like writing would always be lucrative in some form, completely unaware of what so-called "artificial intelligence" would do to creative industries and jobs like journalism, advertising, and article writing (built pretty much entirely on stolen material, no less). Other places made me raise an eyebrow, such as when he extols Cuba's history as one of the wealthiest nations in the world thanks to sugar, and expresses hope that they will rise again, completely disregarding the fact that that wealth was built entirely on the backs of literal slave labor (though I suppose that might strike an entrepeneur as an ideal situation, a workforce that required no pesky payroll department - and if they can't leverage their super powers to be running the place in five years or taking themselves to another plantation for better opportunities, I guess it's their own fault?). I also caught a whiff of victim blaming in his no-excuses attitude about wealth acquisition, how it's entirely a person's own fault if they're crushed by the system and/or haven't racked up north of seven figures by retirement age, even while acknowledging that the old ladders out of poverty, such the middle class, are disintegrating. When those ladders are gone, are the poor just supposed to fly, and sucks to be them if gravity exists? Why is this disintegration and stratification and exponentially increasing inequity treated as some nebulous natural phenomenon like plate tectonics or the weather, beyond comprehension or control, when it's a system ultimately created by humans, driven by humans, and co-opted by humans? When fewer people intentionally hoard more power and money, raising prices on those who can least afford it while boasting/gloating of record gains, while actively erasing means to acquire even the crumbs left behind, how are those hoarders utterly blameless for the consequences of their actions and the deprived entirely at fault? Just pull yourself up by the bootstraps, he declares - ignoring how that phrase was originally meant to show the impossibility of the task, especially when someone else has bought up all the boots. Heck, the notion that one can just learn whatever one needs to thrive for free via the internet presupposes one actually has sufficient access to the internet... and also presupposes that sites like YouTube will remain free to access in the future and aren't paywalled off. (Even libraries, one place a person used to be able to count on for services one couldn't afford if one was, y'know, not wealthy, are under threat.)
In any event, there is plenty of solid, if not entirely unfamiliar, advice to be found in this book, overlooking the parts that feel tone-deaf. Figuring out specific goals, paying closer attention to where money is going, being smarter about where to save and invest, being alert to opportunities and aware of one's worth, all are things worth considering. And there are things one can do to manage one's finances better in many circumstances (if not all). Ultimately, though, it's yet another book that I just can't see having much practical application to my situation.
You Might Also Enjoy:
How to Manage Your Money When You Don't Have Any (Eric Wecks) - My Review
Making a Living Without a Job (Barbara J. Winter) - My Review
Matt Manero
Portfolio
Nonfiction, Finance
***+ (Okay/Good)
DESCRIPTION: What does it mean to be wealthy, or even financially healthy? For most, it means having a few months' cushion in the bank and a decently reliable income stream. This is better than many people have in today's America, and should be good enough to see one through. Right?
Wrong.
It only takes one unforeseen incident to topple the "good enough" wagon - and unforeseen incidents are almost a given unless you're living in a bubble. It doesn't help that everything's getting more expensive; the retirement savings that worked for the previous generation are unlikely to last more than a few years for today's workforce. Even if you think you're doing okay, stashing a little aside here and there for the future, odds are very good it's not nearly enough. So what, in today's world of rising costs and stagnant wages, is one supposed to do about it? The first step is to wake up and see the problem while there's still an outside chance of course correction. Successful entrepeneur and finance speaker Matt Manero offers a wake-up call to those who think "good enough" is good at all, with questions to ask oneself and a roadmap for taking control of your financial life.
REVIEW: I live under no delusions that I'm anything but poor. This "wake up call" is not one I need; it's the "what to do about it" that proves elusive. Once again, however, the "what to do about it" in this book applies mostly to people who are already higher on the social and financial rung than I am, and at the very least are in (or have access to) white-collar sectors; there really isn't a ton here that's useful to warehouse workers, especially ones who lack anything like a marketable "super power" to capitalize on, unless "taking things out of totes" can be transformed into a six-figure income. (I did have to chuckle at the idea of checking what similar jobs to mine pay via sites like Glassdoor to negotiate for higher pay, as I listened to this audiobook at work... I'm the level of employee that the people on Glassdoor eliminate en masse at a stroke of a pen to earn themselves a bonus for saving the company money.)
That said, Manero does offer some decent advice. He also does not expect every reader to run out and start their own business, as some finance gurus seem to insist; he acknowledges that not everyone is cut out for that, that there are benefits to not being the boss, and he offers suggestions for getting the most out of being employed, such as how to improve one's visibility and effectively bargain for raises or seek greener pastures elsewhere. In other areas, though, he's very vague. Research risks on investments, he says... but where? And how does one separate the wheat from the chaff on investment advice and advisors, especially when one's a newbie? "Become interesting" to help with networking and finding new areas to explore, he says... right after insisting that the first thing one should do is eliminate any and all nonessential spending, and anything like a hobby ought to be monetized to justify time and energy spent on it (because all effort not spent on "stacking and racking" money before hitting the big goal is wasted), and any time not spent actively working should be spent considering where and how to obtain even more revenue streams (save his five-to-ten minutes of mental downtime he allows himself daily). So... when exactly is one supposed to be able to pursue the interesting-for-the-sake-of-interest things, and with what money (because even a walk in the park requires, at the least, bus fare to the park)? Though this is a relatively recent title, there are already signs of it aging; he mentions Twitter as a great place to network, especially because it's free - blissfully unaware of who would purchase it and what they would do to it, and how they would sell the appearance of credibility with a meaningless checkmark. He also mentions how skills like writing would always be lucrative in some form, completely unaware of what so-called "artificial intelligence" would do to creative industries and jobs like journalism, advertising, and article writing (built pretty much entirely on stolen material, no less). Other places made me raise an eyebrow, such as when he extols Cuba's history as one of the wealthiest nations in the world thanks to sugar, and expresses hope that they will rise again, completely disregarding the fact that that wealth was built entirely on the backs of literal slave labor (though I suppose that might strike an entrepeneur as an ideal situation, a workforce that required no pesky payroll department - and if they can't leverage their super powers to be running the place in five years or taking themselves to another plantation for better opportunities, I guess it's their own fault?). I also caught a whiff of victim blaming in his no-excuses attitude about wealth acquisition, how it's entirely a person's own fault if they're crushed by the system and/or haven't racked up north of seven figures by retirement age, even while acknowledging that the old ladders out of poverty, such the middle class, are disintegrating. When those ladders are gone, are the poor just supposed to fly, and sucks to be them if gravity exists? Why is this disintegration and stratification and exponentially increasing inequity treated as some nebulous natural phenomenon like plate tectonics or the weather, beyond comprehension or control, when it's a system ultimately created by humans, driven by humans, and co-opted by humans? When fewer people intentionally hoard more power and money, raising prices on those who can least afford it while boasting/gloating of record gains, while actively erasing means to acquire even the crumbs left behind, how are those hoarders utterly blameless for the consequences of their actions and the deprived entirely at fault? Just pull yourself up by the bootstraps, he declares - ignoring how that phrase was originally meant to show the impossibility of the task, especially when someone else has bought up all the boots. Heck, the notion that one can just learn whatever one needs to thrive for free via the internet presupposes one actually has sufficient access to the internet... and also presupposes that sites like YouTube will remain free to access in the future and aren't paywalled off. (Even libraries, one place a person used to be able to count on for services one couldn't afford if one was, y'know, not wealthy, are under threat.)
In any event, there is plenty of solid, if not entirely unfamiliar, advice to be found in this book, overlooking the parts that feel tone-deaf. Figuring out specific goals, paying closer attention to where money is going, being smarter about where to save and invest, being alert to opportunities and aware of one's worth, all are things worth considering. And there are things one can do to manage one's finances better in many circumstances (if not all). Ultimately, though, it's yet another book that I just can't see having much practical application to my situation.
You Might Also Enjoy:
How to Manage Your Money When You Don't Have Any (Eric Wecks) - My Review
Making a Living Without a Job (Barbara J. Winter) - My Review
Thursday, December 21, 2023
The Underground Railroad (Colson Whitehead)
The Underground Railroad
Colson Whitehead
Anchor
Fiction, Historical Fiction
**** (Good)
DESCRIPTION: Cora was just a young girl on a Georgia cotton plantation when her mother Mabel disappeared into the night. Despite the dogs and the bounties and even the famed, feared slave catcher Arnold Ridgefield pursuing her, she vanished as if into thin air. Thus Cora was left to fend for herself against the overseer, the owners, and the other slaves. But it wasn't until the new-bought Caesar plots his escape and asks her to join him that Cora even begins to consider flight herself. Caesar has a contact with the Underground Railroad, the secret network of subterranean stations that whisk runaway slaves about the country... but while the Railroad can promise an escape, nobody in the whole of America can promise her freedom - especially after their flight leaves one white boy dead and none other than Ridgefield hot on their trail.
REVIEW: For a country whose founding documents declare that all men are created equal, America has done a terrible job of living up to that ideal even before said documents were written down. Indeed, much of the country seems to delight in creating new ways to dehumanize and disenfranchise the "Other", even when it harms themselves. In The Underground Railroad, Whitehead drags those failures of justice and equality and basic humanity out of the shadows where so many want to sweep them (when they aren't actively reveling in them; if recent events have taught us nothing else, it's that the same mindsets of the slavery era are alive and well even in the twenty-first century, and in a depressingly significant percentage of the population).
From the day her mother disappears, Cora struggles to survive in a world that does its level best to grind her down and bury her, caught in a system whose every aspect works to divide, degrade, dehumanize, and dismiss anyone who is not white enough, not wealthy enough, not inherently cold and cruel and greedy enough. There is little to no solidarity among those enslaved, even by the same sadistic masters; the system sees to that, too, as does a basic human tendency to tribalism and establishing pecking orders even in the meanest of circumstances (a tendency that is exploited to further weaken the enslaved, and which also fragments those who would see the barbaric practice abolished). Cora becomes an outsider, in no small part because of Mabel's abandonment, and it's her own burning hatred at the woman for leaving her behind that makes her initially refuse to even consider Caesar's offer. (That, and of course the grisly examples that the plantation owners make of those who flee.) It's almost to her own surprise that she finds that she can indeed be pushed to the point where even those astronomically high stakes (and astronomically low odds of success) aren't enough to keep her in the slave quarters... but, almost from the start, things start to go wrong, and keep going wrong. On the Railroad - here imagined, with a touch of surrealism, as a real underground network of rail lines and engines, with an ever-changing network of stations and managers - Cora finds herself in different states... but they all have their own traps and dangers, and all exact heavy tolls for survival. Meanwhile, Ridgefield refuses to give up the hunt, aided by a brutish assistant and by an enigmatic young former slave boy, Homer, who has a peculiar devotion to the single-minded hunter despite technically being free. In her journey, she encounters all manner of allies and enemies and more than one person who turns out to be a little of both. Some chapters delve into the backstories of these side characters, revealing just how far beyond the plantation and chains the effects of slavery spread, how pretty much every life and mind has been distorted by it in some way. Even those who have never owned a slave or been a slave are shaped by it, not just because so much of the country's history and economy hinged on chattel slavery but because society itself warps around it: even in the most idyllic of settings, the fear and uneasiness are never far beneath the surface (or beneath the layers of self-justification). Is true, lasting freedom ever possible in a country whose very foundations stand on the bones of slaves and every edifice bends to accommodate it in its many forms and mindsets? Even if it isn't, Cora cannot stop moving forward save by lying down to die, and for all the setbacks and tragedies she encounters, all the hope turned to so much smoke, she is not ready to do that yet.
This is, necessarily, a harrowing story of dehumanization, cruelty, dashed hopes, crushed futures, and even the lies one tells oneself to justify actions (or lack thereof), or rationalize harm as being for the greater good (or the will of a God whose grace conveniently aligns with one's own circumstances and desires). What light and beauty there is often glimmers cold and distant as the stars in the night sky, something seen and pursued that can never really be reached, especially not in a human lifespan. The ending feels a little unsettled and ambiguous, which I understand was probably the point but which still made me feel mildly let down.
You Might Also Enjoy:
Wild Seed (Octavia E. Butler) - My Review
The Conductors (Nicole Glover) - My Review
The Nickel Boys (Colson Whitehead) - My Review
Colson Whitehead
Anchor
Fiction, Historical Fiction
**** (Good)
DESCRIPTION: Cora was just a young girl on a Georgia cotton plantation when her mother Mabel disappeared into the night. Despite the dogs and the bounties and even the famed, feared slave catcher Arnold Ridgefield pursuing her, she vanished as if into thin air. Thus Cora was left to fend for herself against the overseer, the owners, and the other slaves. But it wasn't until the new-bought Caesar plots his escape and asks her to join him that Cora even begins to consider flight herself. Caesar has a contact with the Underground Railroad, the secret network of subterranean stations that whisk runaway slaves about the country... but while the Railroad can promise an escape, nobody in the whole of America can promise her freedom - especially after their flight leaves one white boy dead and none other than Ridgefield hot on their trail.
REVIEW: For a country whose founding documents declare that all men are created equal, America has done a terrible job of living up to that ideal even before said documents were written down. Indeed, much of the country seems to delight in creating new ways to dehumanize and disenfranchise the "Other", even when it harms themselves. In The Underground Railroad, Whitehead drags those failures of justice and equality and basic humanity out of the shadows where so many want to sweep them (when they aren't actively reveling in them; if recent events have taught us nothing else, it's that the same mindsets of the slavery era are alive and well even in the twenty-first century, and in a depressingly significant percentage of the population).
From the day her mother disappears, Cora struggles to survive in a world that does its level best to grind her down and bury her, caught in a system whose every aspect works to divide, degrade, dehumanize, and dismiss anyone who is not white enough, not wealthy enough, not inherently cold and cruel and greedy enough. There is little to no solidarity among those enslaved, even by the same sadistic masters; the system sees to that, too, as does a basic human tendency to tribalism and establishing pecking orders even in the meanest of circumstances (a tendency that is exploited to further weaken the enslaved, and which also fragments those who would see the barbaric practice abolished). Cora becomes an outsider, in no small part because of Mabel's abandonment, and it's her own burning hatred at the woman for leaving her behind that makes her initially refuse to even consider Caesar's offer. (That, and of course the grisly examples that the plantation owners make of those who flee.) It's almost to her own surprise that she finds that she can indeed be pushed to the point where even those astronomically high stakes (and astronomically low odds of success) aren't enough to keep her in the slave quarters... but, almost from the start, things start to go wrong, and keep going wrong. On the Railroad - here imagined, with a touch of surrealism, as a real underground network of rail lines and engines, with an ever-changing network of stations and managers - Cora finds herself in different states... but they all have their own traps and dangers, and all exact heavy tolls for survival. Meanwhile, Ridgefield refuses to give up the hunt, aided by a brutish assistant and by an enigmatic young former slave boy, Homer, who has a peculiar devotion to the single-minded hunter despite technically being free. In her journey, she encounters all manner of allies and enemies and more than one person who turns out to be a little of both. Some chapters delve into the backstories of these side characters, revealing just how far beyond the plantation and chains the effects of slavery spread, how pretty much every life and mind has been distorted by it in some way. Even those who have never owned a slave or been a slave are shaped by it, not just because so much of the country's history and economy hinged on chattel slavery but because society itself warps around it: even in the most idyllic of settings, the fear and uneasiness are never far beneath the surface (or beneath the layers of self-justification). Is true, lasting freedom ever possible in a country whose very foundations stand on the bones of slaves and every edifice bends to accommodate it in its many forms and mindsets? Even if it isn't, Cora cannot stop moving forward save by lying down to die, and for all the setbacks and tragedies she encounters, all the hope turned to so much smoke, she is not ready to do that yet.
This is, necessarily, a harrowing story of dehumanization, cruelty, dashed hopes, crushed futures, and even the lies one tells oneself to justify actions (or lack thereof), or rationalize harm as being for the greater good (or the will of a God whose grace conveniently aligns with one's own circumstances and desires). What light and beauty there is often glimmers cold and distant as the stars in the night sky, something seen and pursued that can never really be reached, especially not in a human lifespan. The ending feels a little unsettled and ambiguous, which I understand was probably the point but which still made me feel mildly let down.
You Might Also Enjoy:
Wild Seed (Octavia E. Butler) - My Review
The Conductors (Nicole Glover) - My Review
The Nickel Boys (Colson Whitehead) - My Review
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