lightreads

Tigana: Anniversary Edition

4/5. Years ago, a conquering wizard cursed the land of Tigana out of existence. Only those born on its soil can say its name, or remember it exists, and they will slowly die out as their children forget. A small pack of minstrels set out to bring it back.

I really liked this. And I wish I didn't.

I mean, what a great concept, right? This is what I wish fantasy was more often about, turning magic upon some of the fundamental ways we organize ourselves as people, and wrecking those ways, and seeing what happens. Here it's a nation silently erased, a people scattered and forced never to speak of their home. I mean, the injustice of this worked on me, of all people,* so you know the book is good.

That said, wow how much do I wish our copyright system was more sensible and someone could officially remix this book now. Someone like Leckie, say, or Jemisin, or de Bodard, or Monette, maybe. Someone, uh, not GGK.

Because, well. In the beginning of this book, as one of the protagonists was introduced and we found out he was queer, I instantly thought ( spoiler ) and yuuuup, called it. Not only that, but ( more spoilers ) Which is not even starting on the concubines, because of course there is a concubine, there is always a sexual captive in GGK's books, always, he has a sexuality, you guys, and it encompasses all varieties of women as concubine/sex slave/prostitute, and every time I read a book of his I get that bit more skeeved out. Anyway, without spoilers this time, what happens to the concubine – what the narrative ordains as her just path – makes me seethingly angry.

So this is a beautiful book. Truly. It touched me in a way I fully expected it not to. But it's also by GGK, so it's wildly overwrought, and, well, fucking gross in a lot of ways. And I wish someone else had written it, because that book, written by the right person, could be one of the best books I've ever read.

*I'm one of the least nationalistic people you're likely to meet. I take no pride in my country, or all the handwringing despair most of my friends seem to; either of those would require believing that my country actually exists as an identity in any meaningful way, other than a nonsense concept people trot out for rhetorical convenience. None of this particularly matters for daily life. I just blank out any sentences including "America is" or that otherwise attempt to claim some sort of meaningful national identity. Oh, and I find the Olympics a nearly intolerable exercise in mindless jingoism. This book worked on me anyway, largely because it focused on the destruction of culture as the true evil done (which is right, I think –there's a reason that cultural destruction, even without the taking of life, is considered a kind of genocide). The book (I think? I read this in June and my notes are somewhat . . . unclear) treats identity as synonymous with that culture, which I don't think is right, but that's not really the point, and it worked on me anyway.

Ysabel by Guy Gavriel Kay


My rating: 3 of 5 stars
My friend Jen once in a while posts a list of words that probably don't exist in German, but should. Here's one: a book that makes you really really happy even though you're making a long list of its flaws as you read it.

A young adult story about two teenagers in the south of France stumbling into an ancient love triangle. Full of old cathedrals, and verbal photographs of the countryside, and family tensions and people coming through for each other.

Let's just preface every point I'm about to make with 'I really enjoyed it, but . . ."

. . . but seriously, these fifteen-year-olds act at least thirty, particularly when it comes to sex. Not in the doing, which they don't, but in the emotional ease with sophistication.

. . . but there is something just slightly off about Kay's fixation with love triangles. I can't put my finger on it. Something just a bit squidgey about gender. That they're entirely focused on male desire and women as objects is not quite right, but in the ballpark.

. . . but the ending was disappointing.

Still. It's a young adult book where the grown-ups are also awesome, and it does a beautiful job with that part of France, and I dug the entire cast. And sometimes I just don't care about everything else.

View all my reviews >>

The Wandering Fire by Guy Gavriel Kay


My rating: 3 of 5 stars
Sequel to The Summer Tree. More epic fantasy. It's the middle of a trilogy, so the evil becomes eviler and everyone maneuvers for the coming war.

Okay, I finally put my finger on something here.

What could he do though? What was in him to deny what had been laid down? These were dark times, maybe the very darkest times of all. He had been marked. His legs would walk even if his heart and courage stayed behind. It was better, he knew, to have the heart and soul go too, to make the offering run deeper and go true.

That's a really difficult idea of agency, right there. These books are all about people acting out pieces of stories – arthurian, most prominently – and how patterns repeat and how sometimes they break. And that's something you can only look at straight on in epic fantasy, you know? Where it's literally a question of being the vessel moved through a course by various wild magics. And that's awkward for me, psychologically, and also complicated on a narrative level, because you still have to maintain . . . tension. Uncertainty. Strain on the fabric. Internal character friction that isn't just 'woe is me, I am chosen by the gods.'

Which Kay does. Very much so. But in ways that make me go hmm because they are about the edged difficulty of choosing to be doing – choosing to be sacrificing – when you already have to be. Does that make sense?

Um. I liked the book, I should maybe mention?

View all my reviews >>