Flora Segunda by Ysabeau S. Wilce: A-

July 28, 2009 by Leave a Comment

floraFrom the back cover:
Flora Fyrdraaca knows taking shortcuts in Crackpot Hall can be risky. After all, when a House has eleven thousand decaying rooms that shift about at random, there’s no telling where a person might end up. But it’s not just household confusion that vexes Flora, what with Mamma always away being Commanding General of the Army, Poppy drowning his sorrows in drink, and Crackpot Hall too broken down to magically provide the clean towels and hot waffles that are a Fyrdraaca’s birthright.

Yet Flora is nothing if not a Girl of Spirit. So when she takes a forbidden shortcut and stumbles upon her family’s biggest secret—Valefor, the banished Butler—she and her best friend plunge happily into the grand adventure of restoring Valefor to his rightful (or so he says) position. If only Flora knew that meddling with a magical being can go terribly awry—and that soon she will have to find a way to restore herself before it is too late.

Review:
This is the story of Flora Fyrdraaca, referred to by some as Flora Segunda because she is the second Flora to have been born to her parents. She is on the verge of turning fourteen, an age at which Fyrdraaca family members go off to the Barracks to embark upon their careers as soldiers. Flora does not want to be a soldier, though; her ambition is to become a ranger like her heroine, Nini Mo, and use magic, stealth, and cunning while having exciting adventures. Flora’s mother, a high-ranking general, disapproves of magic, so Flora cannot express this preference, and the Ranger Corps has been disbanded anyway, so she contents herself with devouring every bit of information she can find on Nini Mo.

The Fyrdraaca family occupies an enormous house known as Crackpot Hall. At one time, there was a magical butler, but in his absence (banished by Flora’s mother), things have fallen into disrepair: rooms shift about at random, the elevator is unreliable, and most of the house is uninhabitable. One morning, while late for school and darting back inside to retrieve an overdue library book on Nini Mo, Flora decides to use the forbidden magical elevator and ends up in a new part of the house where she encounters the abrogated butler, Valefor. Tempted by the prospect of shifting the burden of her many chores upon him, she agrees to feed him a little of her Will (the power behind magic) to help get his strength back. This starts her on the path of various adventures, culminating in the useful lesson, “No one can take you from yourself unless you allow them to.”

There are many things to like about Flora Segunda. I particularly appreciate the lessons that Flora has learned from her adulation of Nini Mo—sprinkled liberally throughout the book as Flora calls them to mind during difficult situations—since they emphasize things like “being strong, fast, and clever is more important than looks.” Traditional gender roles are also dispensed with. It’s an absolute given that women can become soldiers—two powerful generals referenced within the story are female—and there’s a male character (awesomely described as “a glass-gazing font of frivolity”) who’s into fashion, eyeliner, and crinoline, which doesn’t seem to be a problem with anyone, either. The setting is unique, as it’s seemingly an alternate universe sort of 19th century California (dubbed Califa) that’s made peace with an invading Aztec-like culture, and the magical system is original and intriguingly complex.

Above all these things, however, is my deep and abiding love for Flora’s father, Hotspur. He had been a bright-eyed and magnificent soldier in his day, but when we meet him, he’s a broken, half-mad drunk with hollow eyes who spends most of his time holed up in a remote spot of Crackpot Hall, grieving over tragic losses sustained during the war. (I’ve just noticed that description sounds very like Sirius Black.) He sobers up a little bit along the way, offering unexpected help a couple of times, and there are some terrific moments with and revelations concerning him near the end of the book that had me teary and desperate to know more about his history and his future.

On the negative side, the plotting, while on the whole pretty tidy, feels a bit haphazard at times. Flora misjudges people time and again, leading to lots of running about hither and thither to try to solve problems created by her previous actions. I also don’t really feel I have a good grasp on Califa’s culture, though I grant that more detail probably would’ve been unnecessary and a detriment to the story’s momentum. Lastly, although I admire Flora’s amusingly snarky turns of phrase and the fact that I had to look up more unfamiliar words for this, a children’s book, than I have in quite a while, Wilce has this annoying habit of using the same word multiple times within the span of a few pages. With common words, this is no problem, but when the word is “scarpered” or “sangyn,” it’s much more obvious.

Like its sometimes foolish, sometimes courageous namesake, Flora Segunda isn’t perfect. However, its merits, originality, and knack for leaving me wanting more spur me to cry, “Bravo!”

Additional reviews of Flora Segunda can be found at Triple Take.

Filed Under: Books, Children's Fiction, Fantasy, Triple Take

The Sharing Knife: Passage by Lois McMaster Bujold: B+

July 6, 2009 by 2 Comments

From the front flap:
Young Fawn Bluefield and soldier-sorcerer Dag Redwing Hickory have survived magical dangers and found, in each other, love and loyalty. But even their strength and passion cannot overcome the bigotry of their own kin, and so, leaving behind all they have known, the couple sets off to find fresh solutions to the perilous split between their peoples.

But they will not journey alone, as they acquire comrades along the way. As the ill-assorted crew is tested and tempered on its journey to where great rivers join, Fawn and Dag will discover surprising new abilities both Lakewalker and farmer, a growing understanding of the bonds between themselves and their kinfolk, and a new world of hazards both human and uncanny.

Review:
After one book taking place primarily in the farmer world and another that focuses on Lakewalker life, Passage, the third book in The Sharing Knife series, finds Dag and Fawn working to bring those two worlds closer together. Having witnessed the loss of life caused by farmers’ ignorance of the warning signs of a forming Malice, and not willing to stay at a camp at which the validity of his marriage is questioned, Dag gives up his patroller life and decides to become an ambassador of sorts, explaining some of the most fundamental Lakewalker secrets to what farmers as will listen.

After a brief stay with Fawn’s family, Dag and Fawn (along with her brother, Whit) hit the road, visiting a few towns and eventually booking passage on the Fetch, a flatboat headed downriver to the sea. From there, they encounter a variety of (mostly) likable characters, like Berry (boss of the Fetch), Remo and Barr (a pair of disgraced young patrollers), and a bevy of other boatmen. Dag performs several impressive feats of healing, works out some finer details of groundwork, ponders some troubling questions, and makes a lot of rather repetitive speeches. The action picks up a little when Berry’s search for her missing father, brother, and fiancé yields some unexpected results, and Dag is ultimately forced to question whether farmers and Lakewalkers aren’t better off living separate lives after all.

Although parts of Passage are quite slow—like the speeches and the many discussions on the ethics of Dag’s developing abilities—it’s still my favorite of the series thus far, a factor I attribute mostly to the influx of new people. Suddenly, a series that has been almost exclusively about two characters has developed an ensemble cast, and I find it to be a big improvement. My favorite of the new characters is actually not so new—Fawn’s brother Whit has been around before, but really becomes a new person due to the things he sees and experiences on this journey.

Whit’s growth also serves a handy example for one of my favorite things about the series: women’s roles. Bujold manages to show women in positions of power—boat captains, patrol leaders—about as often as women living more domestic lives without making a judgment about which has more value. Whit, having grown up on a farm, is used to men being in charge, and early on accuses Fawn of being “just a girl.” Dag expertly turns this around to talk about all of the brave and valiant things his first wife, Kauneo, accomplished when she was “just a girl.” After witnessing Fawn’s practical cleverness on several occasions, and having his notions of gender roles challenged by Berry, with whom he falls in love, Whit comes to value Fawn’s input in a way that the rest of her family does not.

Despite enjoying Passage quite a bit, I find I have some trepidations about Horizon, the fourth and final volume in the series. I do like Dag and Fawn, but they weren’t the main attraction for me this time. I hope Berry, Whit, Remo, and Barr have significant roles in Horizon else I shall be disappointed.

Additional reviews of The Sharing Knife: Passage can be found at Triple Take.

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The Sharing Knife: Legacy by Lois McMaster Bujold: B+

May 2, 2009 by 2 Comments

From the front flap:
Fawn Bluefield, the clever young farmer girl, and Dag Redwing Hickory, the seasoned Lakewalker soldier-sorcerer, have been married all of two hours when they depart her family’s farm for Dag’s home at Hickory Lake Camp. Alas, their unlikely marriage is met with prejudice and suspicion, setting many in the camp against them. A faction of the camp even goes so far as to threaten permanent exile for Dag.

Before their fate as a couple is decided, however, Dag is called away by an unexpected malice attack on a neighboring hinterland threatening Lakewalkers and farmers both. What his patrol discovers there will not only change Dag and hew new bride, but will call into question the uneasy relationship between their peoples—and may even offer a glimmer of hope for a less divided future.

Review:
When I reviewed the first installment in The Sharing Knife series, Beguilement, I lamented its lack of a more traditional fantasy novel plot. It’s not that it wasn’t good; it just wasn’t what I expected. This second volume, Legacy, definitely fulfills more of that traditional fantasy role while dealing with the aftermath of Dag and Fawn’s marriage in interesting ways.

Since the two books were originally conceived of as one, this one picks up two hours later, with the newly married Dag and Fawn on their way to Hickory Lake, the Lakewalker camp where Dag’s family resides. When they arrive, all sorts of questions are answered, though it’s the new ones that crop up that prove the more interesting.

Bujold again excels at writing in such a way that it is incredibly easy to visualize the scene and her worldbuilding is unique and thorough. I enjoyed all the details of life at Hickory Lake, including the way the camp is laid out, the clever patrol-tracking system in place in the commander’s cabin, further information on sharing knives and the origin of malices, and the process for settling camp grievances. I also thought it was neat that, like Fawn’s family back in West Blue, Dag’s family is still unable to really see him for his own worth.

More compelling than this, however, is the fact that the novel deals with the question of what Dag and Fawn ought to do now that they are married. What will become of Fawn when Dag goes out on patrol? What if he doesn’t come back; can he trust the camp to provide for her? Will she ever be accepted, even if she displays her cleverness and desire to be useful over and over again? Indeed, it’s Fawn who makes the intuitive leap later in the novel that saves the lives of ten people, yet others almost immediately seek to award credit to Dag somehow. Even those who like her, like the camp’s medicine maker, Hoharie, stop short of recommending a permanent place for her in camp life.

On the more fantasy side of things, Dag is contending with his “ghost hand,” ground that originally belonged to his left hand, now missing, which can be called upon in times of urgency to perform unexpected feats of magic. (Or, as shown in the too-detailed marital consummation scene early in the book, for sexy purposes. At least the rest of such encounters are less explicit.) When a jaunt as captain, commanding several patrols as they strive to exterminate a highly-advanced malice, ends with him using this hand in a couple of new ways, Dag begins to realize that perhaps his life is going to change directions.

What with the way Fawn’s being treated at the camp, the way farmers largely remain ignorant of the malice threat, the threat of banishment arising from his family’s petition to dissolve his and Fawn’s marriage, and the knowledge that maybe he could be something other than a patroller, Dag eventually decides to head out and travel the world with Fawn by his side. Somehow I had absorbed the spoiler that this would eventually happen, but I like that the decision ultimately makes sense.

Overall, I liked Legacy more than Beguilement. I like the lead characters and hope that the small band of supporting Lakewalkers who were on their side in the camp council hearing will be seen again. It looks like Dag and Fawn will be acquiring some traveling companions in the next book, too, which I’m look forward to.

Additional reviews of The Sharing Knife: Legacy can be found at Triple Take.

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The Sharing Knife: Beguilement by Lois McMaster Bujold: B

March 31, 2009 by 6 Comments

From the front flap:
Young Fawn Bluefield has fled her family’s farm hoping to find work in the city of Glassforge. Uncertain about her future and the troubles she carries, Fawn stops for a drink of water at a roadside inn, where she counters a patrol of Lakewalkers, enigmatic soldier-sorcerers from the woodland culture to the north. Though Fawn has heard stories about the Lakewalkers, she is unaware that they are engaged in a perilous campaign against inhuman and immortal magical entities known as “malices,” creatures that suck the life out of all they encounter, and turn men and animals into their minions.

Dag is an older Lakewalker patroller who carries his past sorrows as heavily as his present responsibilities. When Fawn is kidnapped by the malice Dag’s patrol is tracking, Dag races to rescue her. But in the ensuing struggle, it is not Dag but Fawn who kills the creature—at dire cost—and an uncanny accident befalls Dag’s sharing knife, which unexpectedly binds their two fates together.

Review:
For all that this book took me something like six weeks to finish, I find that I don’t actually have all that much to say about it. The description quoted above admirably sums up the beginning of the novel, in which Dag rescues Fawn from some bandits, her pregnant status provokes a nasty creature to kidnap her back again, and they end up taking down a “malice” together. I can’t help but think that the reason the blurb doesn’t touch on any plot after this point is that there really isn’t much of one.

Beguilement is really more of a romance than a fantasy novel, though Bujold has still done a good job with the worldbuilding, working in details on the differences between Fawn’s and Dag’s cultures throughout the novel. But after the malice is defeated, there isn’t much going on except them riding on horses, staying in inns, developing fancies for one another, finally consummating their relationship, doing it many more times and often outdoors in the company of bugs, encountering Fawn’s not-so-supportive family, convincing them to support a marriage, and getting hitched. I guess if I lay it out like that it looks like a lot happened, but really, how much of that sounds like a fantasy novel?

The fact that the characters are both likable makes up for some of the plotlessness, at least. Fawn has had a very sheltered upbringing where her thirst for knowledge was not encouraged. Now, with support for her quick wits, she proves herself to be pretty clever and resourceful. Dag is a very experienced patroller who was widowed before Fawn’s birth (there’s quite a big age difference between them) and has been fiercely solitary ever since, so opening himself up to her is a pretty unique experience for him. Because there’s a lot that Fawn doesn’t know and is curious about, it sometimes seems like you’ve got the “wise man teaching ignorant girl” dynamic going on, but it’s not really pervasive. There’s one scene near the end where Dag praises Fawn for a brilliant leap of logic that comes across as completely admiring and not at all patronizing. It even made me a bit sniffly after seeing how little her family appreciates her.

Too, Bujold simply writes really well. Without being overly wordy, she can paint a scene so vividly that it’s incredibly easy to visualize. The best example is probably the part where Dag has found the malice’s lair and is taking in the layout of the area: I swear I could picture it perfectly after only a couple of sentences. And even if the parts with Fawn’s family were rather uncomfortable to read, considering their dismissive treatment of her, they were still entertaining. Probably, enduring all that strife was necessary so as to be as relieved as the main characters when they were finally able to leave it all behind.

While I like Fawn and Dag both together and separately, I do hope that there’s more of a plot to the next book. A typical fantasy series would have an epic quest to wipe out evil, but I sort of doubt Bujold is going to adhere to standard genre tropes. Because I do admire her writing, I’m willing to stick around and see how the story develops, but if this was the first installment of a story by anyone else, I’m not sure I’d be too keen to continue with it.

Additional reviews of The Sharing Knife:Beguilement can be found at Triple Take.

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Shortcomings by Adrian Tomine: B

January 21, 2009 by Leave a Comment

From the front flap:
Ben Tanaka has problems. In addition to being rampantly critical, sarcastic, and insensitive, his long-term relationship is awash in turmoil. His girlfriend, Miko Hayashi, suspects that Ben has a wandering eye, and more to the point, it’s wandering in the direction of white women. This accusation (and its various implications) becomes the subject of heated, spiralling debate, setting in motion a story that pits California against New York, devotion against desire, and truth against truth.

Review:
Shortcomings is the story of Ben Tanaka, a guy with no career ambitions beyond managing a movie theater, who nonetheless thinks he knows everything, is always right, and that any kind of contrary opinion is a personal attack. He is relentlessly negative (a phrase I’d been thinking even before his girlfriend used it), insincere, shallow, judgmental, and so incredibly irritating that if I met him in real life I would leave tracks trying to get away from him. So, while I respect the vividness with which Tomine was able to evoke this character, I still pretty much hate him.

Ben’s girlfriend Miko has been putting up with his crap for a couple of years, but she’s not a blameless victim, either. She instigates arguments and goads him into anger, sometimes exaggerating things just to provoke a reaction. She’s often not wrong with what she says—he does have a thing for white women, for example—but the way she says it is guaranteed to lead to a fight. They are very, very bad for each other and their arguments are painful to read because it’s easy to imagine a real couple saying the same things.

The front flap promises a “brutal, funny, and insightful reflection of human shortcomings.” The brutal territory is covered pretty well. Ben is downright mean on occasions, but can’t take it when it’s dished back at him. One of the most memorable scenes is when, after his new white girlfriend has gotten to know him better, she breaks up with him. First, she tries to give an excuse about the return of an old flame, but then admits that he’s the problem. “I could be totally, brutally honest about why I’m doing this, but I’m not sure you’d ever recover.” I actually wish she would have elaborated and that he would’ve had a moment where he realized he was all those things, but it would’ve been unrealistic for him to ever be convinced he was wrong.

I suppose there’s some insight, too, even though Ben doesn’t experience a personality transplant. He does get what he deserves, though, and ends up alone and left behind. Will he learn? I sincerely doubt it. He’ll just go on blaming others for what they did to his life, never realizing all the crap he did to them in return.

What’s utterly missing is the promised funny. Looking back, I can’t remember a single thing that even made me smile, much less laugh. Depressing and cringe-inducing? Yes. Funny? No.

The art is pretty interesting. It’s nothing flashy, but there are some good subtle moments when Ben’s disgust or derision is well portrayed. It adheres rigidly to a rectangular panel shape throughout, and if I were writing this for English class, I’d postulate that this is a metaphor for Ben’s inflexible worldview. Some of the parts I like best use repeated panels to indicate the passage of time, such as the view of the parking lot while Ben is seeing Miko off on a trip to New York, or the last page, where he mulls over all that has happened while gazing out of an airplane window.

While I certainly didn’t like the characters or situations they put themselves in, I still must give Shortcomings kudos for invoking such a reaction. I’d be interested to read more from Tomine, but hopefully something with a slightly more sympathetic protagonist next time.

The material collected in Shortcomings was originally published as issues 9-11 of a comic series called Optic Nerve (Drawn & Quarterly). Issues 1-4 and 5-8 can be found in the collections Sleepwalk and Other Stories and Summer Blonde, respectively.

More reviews of Shortcomings can be found at Triple Take.

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The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum: B-

December 26, 2008 by Leave a Comment

From the book jacket:
Every child knows about Santa Claus, the jolly man who brings gifts to all on Christmas Eve. There are many stories that tell of his life, but the delightful version related in The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus is by far the most charming and original. Only L. Frank Baum, the man who created the wonderful land of Oz, could have told Santa’s tale in such rich, imaginative detail.

Deep in the Forest of Burzee, a wood-nymph discovers an abandoned baby and raises him as her child. Young Claus is taught by the wise mythological creatures of the Forest, who love him as one of their own. Though he lives among magical beings, he comes to cherish his fellow humans, especially the children. When Santa Claus whittles his first toy, he knows he has found the way to bring happiness and love to children all over the world.

Review:
In The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, L. Frank Baum sets out to provide a complete story of Claus’s origins, from his idyllic childhood spent raised by immortal creatures in a secluded forest until the time when his life of good deeds earns him the precious Mantle of Immortality.

The story, as told, differs from the accepted legends about Santa Claus. For example, Claus (as he is called in the novel) does not live in the North Pole along with Mrs. Claus and a merry band of elves who toil cheerfully to craft toys for all the good little boys and girls of the world. Instead, he lives alone in a place called the Laughing Valley, with four immortal creatures who became his helpers only after the population boomed so much that he could no longer handle the task alone. This Claus also makes no distinctions between naughty and nice children, conceding that even naughty children can be good, and vice versa.

Throughout the story, explanations for various traditional Christmas beliefs and customs are provided, like stockings and Christmas trees and how Claus first came to employ a team of reindeer on his yearly errand (though none bears any familiar name). Baum also works in a rationalization for the involvement of parents, saying they’re Claus’s deputies, and that Claus even sends heaps of toys to stores so that the parents can acquire them for their kids. I wonder if parents point their kids to this book to explain why Santa left a tell-tale price tag on their present.

The edition that I read was published in 2003 and is illustrated by Michael Hague. While many are nice to look upon, I found them rather confusing at times. For instance, the size of the “newborn” Claus changes radically amongst illustrations; in one he looks at least two and very tubby indeed. Also, the immortal creatures from the story appear liberally, but I’m never sure which is supposed to be which, since the images don’t always illustrate a particular, recognizable scene.

There are also a couple of inconsistencies in the story that bother me. In the beginning of the book, there is a line that reads “All the immortals are full-grown; there are no children among them.” This was used to explain why they felt such fascination when Claus was brought into the forest and allowed to be raised in their midst. Yet later, when Claus is outfitting his sledge, he reaches an agreement with the Gnome King (clearly shown as immortal by his presence at the council which grants Claus his immortality) to trade him toys FOR HIS CHILDREN in exchange for sleigh bells.

The second inconsistency involves Claus’s decision to leave the forest and live among mankind. Until his youth, he had known nothing of the existence of other members of his race, and after finally witnessing their suffering, he resolved to quit the forest. The book says that “he went forth bravely to meet his doom—the doom of the race of man—the necessity to worry and work.” Except that he doesn’t. Once he gets to the Laughing Valley, immortals pop up and build his house, promise to keep his cupboards stocked, and essentially take care of his every need.

Despite some grumblings I might have about certain particulars, I found the story to be decently entertaining, especially some turns of phrase. There’s one scene where a lioness called Shiegra is waiting in Claus’s house when he returns from an outing, while his pet cat cowers in the corner. Baum simply writes, “She did not care to associate with Shiegra.” I love that line, as it perfectly evokes a cat’s offended dignity.

I don’t know that I’d care to read this again, or any other Santa origin tales for that matter, but I think The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus would probably be fun to read aloud to a kid, particularly one who was open to embracing differences from the established legend.

Additional reviews of The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus can be found at Triple Take.

Filed Under: Books, Children's Fiction, Fantasy, Triple Take

Sixpence House by Paul Collins: B+

December 21, 2008 by Leave a Comment

From the book jacket:
Paul Collins and his family abandoned the hills of San Francisco to move to the Welsh countryside—to move, in fact, to the little cobblestone village of Hay-on-Wye, the “Town of Books,” boasting 1,500 inhabitants… and forty bookstores. Antiquarian bookstores, no less.

Inviting readers into a sanctuary for book lovers, and guiding us through the production of the author’s own first book, Sixpence House is a wonderfully engaging meditation on what books mean to us, and how their meaning can resonate long after they have been abandoned by their public.

Review:
Books, Britain, and buildings are three of my favorite topics, and when one tosses them together in one book, odds are that I’m going to like it. Even if, as in the case of Sixpence House, there is no real plot to speak of. Seriously, this family moves to Wales, tries to buy a house, fails, then moves back to the United States. Despite the title making one think that they’ll be buying and renovating a particular house, that never actually comes to pass.

I couldn’t really get into the book at first, because the style of writing is incredibly tangential. Collins will be relating a story in which he has just gotten off the Tube in London, and will suddenly switch to a description of a rotunda built in San Francisco in 1915. He never really stops doing things like this, but I got used to the side trips and even came to enjoy them.

On books—Collins very clearly loves them, and delights in quoting passages from obscure publications. I enjoyed all of the excerpts from these forgotten tomes and felt a momentary stirring of desire to hunt for such abandoned treasures myself. He also talks a good deal about the capacity of books to live on far beyond the span of their author, leading to different reflections upon mortality. That’s not a subject I prefer to dwell on, but he handles the topic thoughtfully, and with a practical bent seemingly influenced by the practices of the Brits themselves.

On Britain—More than any other source, Sixpence House has provided me a good idea of what life in Britain can really be like to one coming from an American perspective. Some things are better—television and print media assume a far greater level of consumer intellect than their American equivalents, for example—and some worse, like the lack of right to privacy laws in the UK. My one complaint is that sometimes I couldn’t be sure what was actually true and what was just dry humor. For instance, when I looked up a thoroughly silly-sounding practice called gazumping, I found that it was genuine, but I’m still about 95% sure that a comment about Welsh pronunciation isn’t.

On buildings—now I understand why some people I have known who tried to move to the UK have ended up returning to America! I could never grasp it before; it seemed such a wonderful place! But it turns out there are no agents to look after the buyer during the sale of a property, no contract to keep all of your work from being for naught, and no requirement for the seller to share information about the property, forcing the seller to pay for an expensive survey for any house in which they might be interested. To an American, this seems crazy!

Collins does an excellent job in describing all of the quaint old buildings around Hay, as well as the village and its denizens. I appreciated that he and his wife wanted a home with a lot of history, but understood completely when they eventually gave up their search after being stymied by outrageous asking prices, weird stipulations about proceeds from land sales, and daunting renovations. My desire to visit the UK is as strong as it ever was, but I’m also left with the impression that I really wouldn’t want to live there. Even if their TV is awesome.

Collins has written several other works of nonfiction, including one called Banvard’s Folly (subtitled Thirteen Tales of People That Didn’t Change the World) that gets mentioned a good bit in this narrative. It seems he also is instrumental in bringing forth some of the lost gems that he loves so much, like English as She is Spoke, a phrasebook written by men who didn’t actually speak English. I hope to read both of these at some point, if the library is successful in acquiring them on my behalf.

Additional reviews of Sixpence House can be found at Triple Take.

Filed Under: Books, Memoir, Nonfiction, Triple Take

Farthing by Jo Walton: B-

November 27, 2008 by 2 Comments

From the back cover:
Jo Walton crosses genres without missing a beat with this stunningly powerful alternative history set in 1949, eight years after Britain agreed to peace with Nazi Germany, leaving Hitler in control of the European continent. A typical gathering at the country estate of Farthing of the power elite who brokered the deal is thrown into turmoil when the main negotiator, Sir James Thirkie, is murdered, with a yellow star pinned to his chest with a dagger.

The author deftly alternates perspective between Lucy Kahn, the host’s daughter, who has disgraced herself in her family’s eyes by marrying a Jew, and Scotland Yard Inspector Peter Carmichael, who quickly suspects that the killer was not a Bolshevik terrorist. But while the whodunit plot is compelling, it’s the convincing portrait of a country’s incremental slide into fascism that makes this novel a standout.

Review:
I’m a fan of England, mysteries, and gay-themed literature, so I expected that Farthing would be my cup of tea. As it turns out, I was quite disappointed. Though the majority of my complaint can be summed up as, “It was just kind of weirdly put together,” there are some specific areas that bothered me enough to merit their own place on a spiffy numbered list.

1. Punctuation.
I’m starting with the most minor quibble, though it did truly bug me. A couple of times there were lists of buildings or people that were improperly punctuated. Here is an example:

There was a church, larger than most, a pub, the Eversley Arms, a row of cottages, and a high wall containing a pair of wrought-iron gates…

The way that’s written, the pub and the Eversley Arms appear to be two different things. There should be a semicolon after “most,” as well as after “Arms” and “cottages.” Because of this, a later list of attendees at the gathering had me confused as to whether Lucy’s dad and the Earl of Hampshire were the same person.

2. Woefully undeveloped gay characters.
There are, if I counted correctly, eight nominally gay or bisexual characters in this book, nine if you count Lucy’s deceased brother. For some, that’s practically all that’s known about them. Frankly, it started to get ridiculous. I’m beyond cool with having gay characters, but just having a cardboard cut-out standing there with a nametag reading “Gay” on his chest does not really count.

3. A pretty boring mystery.
The investigation into this mystery was kind of meh, with Inspector Carmichael and his sergeant doing a lot of theorizing in advance of the facts. It also seemed to hinge on locating one particular girl from a photograph who, when found, blurted out the culprit pretty anticlimactically. Granted, it was obvious by that point, anyway. The impact of the increasingly fascist government upon the investigation was kind of interesting, as Carmichael had to keep in mind that whomever he arrested would be hanged (and so he had better be absolutely certain before arresting them), but also frustrating, since the innocent Jewish fellow everyone kept insisting was guilty (even when presented with evidence to the contrary) was one of the few likable characters in the book.

When I try to recall something I particularly liked, I come up empty. The conclusion was decent enough, I suppose, though the final chapter from Lucy’s point of view ended rather ominously. I will probably finish up the rest of the trilogy, because I am a completist and because I hope it gives more closure on the Lucy front. I think the other books might feature different characters, though, so I shan’t hold my breath. Neither shall I expect to enjoy them any more than I did Farthing.

Filed Under: Alternate History, Books, Mystery, Triple Take
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