I never know what to DO with Valente’s writing. It always somehow entirely exceeds...everything. In terms of lushness, in terms of scope, in terms of what it demands of the reader. She’s never easy to read, but always rewarding to read.
And there’s something simultaneously fascinating and defamiliarizing to read stories playing with a set of mythologies with which I’m unfamiliar. The balance between the arc of stories, which spans cultures, and the particular shape of these stories is thrown into sharp relief. Now I want to know more.