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A Half-Built Garden

4/5. It’s complicated. A deeply queer, deeply Jewish first contact story about a woman who is accidentally on the forefront of things when aliens touch down in the backyard of her community attempting to reverse environmental degradation in a post corporate society (sort of). Also she has an infant and is in the process of building a queer, multicultural, maybe poly household.

So I read this in early January, i.e. before my household contracted Covid and norovirus in rapid succession. Which is to say, approximately a decade ago. So it feels like I read this on another planet, and yet, miraculously, I remember it well.

Oomph so good, so chewy, so talky. Also, so very and intensely Jewish, by which I mean that the Jewishness of several of the characters deeply informs their views of the central conflict, and of what first contact should be in a really beautiful way (she says, as someone with only a passing secondhand understanding, so take that as you will). Also, her motherhood matters intensely; if I had read this, a science fiction book about hope and reclamation and reaching out and fighting for what you have all while nursing an infant, back when I was nursing an infant, man I would have cried so hard.

Also, for that subset of you -- you know who you are -- they do bang the alien.
lightreads: a partial image of a etymology tree for the Indo-European word 'leuk done in white neon on black'; in the lower left is (Default)
Winter Tide

4/5. How to explain this? It's Lovecraft mythos transformative work. Aphra's people spend some years on land when they're young before living out their long lives in the sea. Until the U.S. government raided their town in 1928 and interned them all. Decades later, Aphra and her brother are the only survivors of the camps, and they go home in the company of an FBI agent to reluctantly do work for the government that destroyed their world.

You need zero fingers to count the number of fucks I give about Lovecraft. Never read it, never going to, don't care, don't care, don't care. Also, I had not read the free online novelette that is the prequel to this book; I didn't even know it existed until I started going wait a minute…this is assuming I've read something that I haven't. Something other than Lovecraft, even.

So this book had a hard uphill climb, is what I'm saying. And yet . . . and yet . . .

It's strange and a little chilly and extremely conscious of who its monsters are. Hint: they aren't the Lovecraftian horrors from the deep, they're us. There's a lot of time in libraries in this book, and time performing magic in groups; lots of still scenes while people rub complexly and uncomfortably against each other. This is roughly 80% character work by volume, and an indeterminate amount Lovecraft stuff. I don't even know enough about Lovecraft to more than guess what is canon and what is invention. Except I'm pretty sure Lovecraft's work wasn't a sustained, pained meditation on the complex faces of privilege and oppression and monstrousness.

Which is why I'm not reading that, but did read this.

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