bennysbooks's Reviews (668)

The City & the City was perhaps not the best place for me to start with Miéville, though I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. Of all the possible sci-fi/fantasy sub-genres there are to explore, noir-style detective fiction was never going to be my thing. The problem is that I tend to prefer going into a book knowing as little as possible, and from everything I’d heard about Miéville I gathered that this approach would work particularly well for the types of stories he tells. I was correct, I believe, but unfortunately it means that I started with the wrong book. 

 

My inability to connect with the genre aside, I think this was a fascinating and intelligent book. I have to admit that when a book (maybe especially noir-style detective novels) features a dead young woman, I have this involuntary internal cringe. It’s such a thing, and not often handled well (to my standards), but I was pleasantly surprised by the way that the female victim was very much still a presence throughout the book and an agent in her own story. Even her dead body was treated with dignity and grief it deserved, rather than being used for some morbid titillation: 

 

 

I loved how unique the world that Miéville created was - the mental gymnastics required of the citizens of these cities were unsettling in the best way, and the implications of this kind of intense, learned othering are explored throughout the book without being explained in a heavy-handed way. And the language he created to describe the world? Incredible. Crosshatching?? Loved. The language, the history, the politics – I thought it was well thought-out, and thought-provoking in turn. 

 

 

Unfortunately, I think the writing occasionally let it down. The syntax was confusing at times, transitions were jumpy, and the dialogue kind of samey. Time will tell whether this is a problem I have with Miéville or a problem with this book specifically. I also think the plotting sometimes felt a little frenetic, like there was so much going on that it was difficult to understand the threads of the mystery myself. It’s possible it was a me thing, but while there were pieces of the puzzle that I was able to put together, I never felt like I was remotely close to a solution. There were too many twists and missing tidbits of knowledge or worldbuilding, so that when Borlú came to any sort of conclusion about what was going on I was unable to follow the thread of his logic. 
 
 

Ultimately, despite what might seem like a tepid review, I really enjoyed my time with The City & the City. It was immersive and peculiar, and I can’t believe I waited this long to pick up a Miéville. 

Basically just a very long list - may as well have been bullet points. 

2024 - take two.

Okay, I finished it this time. My fondness for and issues with Puck remain. He interjected a little too often, repeating similar pithy lines about humans/mischief/Shakespeare/etc. to the point of exasperation. I would say maybe about 50% of it was funny, or witty, or cute, or necessary exposition. It was a brilliant idea that needed more workshopping and tighter reigns.

I found it a bit easier to go with the flow of the story this time, knowing what to expect. The pacing wasn't ideal, but I found that I was more invested in the plot than the first time around. And I enjoyed the worldbuilding a lot more, understanding the anachronistic, dark fae/old gods vibe Hall was going for. I think it worked quite well, and I would absolutely read more in this world.

That being said, I found it just as hard to connect to the characters this time around, and nearly impossible to buy into the romance developing as swiftly as it did. There was a lot of telling, romantically speaking, and not a lot of building the tension organically for the reader to feel. Did the Duke of Annadale make me feel things? Sure, I'm a sub, it worked. But did I believe in the strength of their connection? Did I swoon at the romantic moments? No, and no.

I finished it. I will happily read a sequel. But it remains a disappointment.

DNF - 38%

Such a letdown. The premise seemed like exactly what I needed, so I ignored the low average rating and purchased myself a copy. I loved the beginning, and the saucy Duke of Annadale (plus the promise of a little kink), but eventually things soured. Using Puck as a narrator was a clever choice, but perhaps insistently overdone. The characters didn't feel super well fleshed-out. But my biggest gripe?

The MCs had already admitted interest and kissed before the halfway point - in a regency romance! I wanted so much more pining!!! I looove pining.

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I typically enjoy Alexis Hall, so I will give this another shot in the future now that my expectations are adjusted. 

I think if you enjoy seafaring fantasy and interesting worldbuilding, and care less about the writing style, The Bone Ships might work for you. But for a reader who pays attention to the writing, this felt sloppy. 

I really thought I would be able to get into it after the first few pages, but the clunky sentences, grammatical errors, and the way Barker would tell us what was happening rather depicting something and allowing us to draw conclusions, wore on me pretty fast. 

Most egregious, in the 80 pages that I read, were these two examples:

It reads like it's straight out of a picture book, or a poem for children (there was an old lady who swallowed a fly, anyone?), and would have taken an editor mere moments to rework. There were many sentences like this that just needed extra attention, and if the book had recieved that attention the text would have flowed better. The prose wasn't unbearably bad overall, but that almost made it worse because I could see the potential.

Oof, but also it comes after MANY repetitions of the fact that the crew is pathetically untrained and lazy. It's fine that Barker explicitly told us this more than once, especially given we're situated in Joron's perspective. But it felt exhausting to read this reminder once again, and I couln't help but imagine how tense the scene would have been if Barker had instead taken the time to SHOW us how an untrained and lazy crew would have reacted to Meas' battle commands. It could have been stressful and frantic, but was just another opportunity for Barker to make sure we understood how much Joron had failed as Shipwife, and I think that disappointment finally gave me the push I needed to set this book aside. 

 

Strong beginning and strong ending. The writing was as delicious as you can expect from Le Guin, though the fact that it was her debut is evident in the unplumbed depths of the text. I think the worldbuilding was fun in an old-school, campy science-fantasy way, where absurdity sometimes functions as an acceptable substitute for heavy exposition (though I would have appreciated more information). It wasn’t as idea dense as her later works, and the themes present ended up being kind of raised and dropped again in a way that was not so much inherently bad as it was accumulatively disappointing. Character relationships hinted at something profound but were mostly explained to the reader rather than developed over time in a meaningful way. Overall, it was engaging and tragic and rompy, and I’m glad to have read it. 

 

Strangely enough, though I think this was a more disappointing read than Rocannon’s World, it has stuck with me much more effectively. It was as well written as anything from Le Guin, but more anthropological than the absurdist romp of the first book, and the plot was much more linear as well. Both featured a major incoming threat, but the winding nature of Rocannon’s journey dissolved a lot of the plot’s tension until nearly the end of the book, whereas the ‘major incoming threat’ of book two remained the focal point of the book throughout, even as the characters faced numerous other threats and challenges. The worldbuilding was more focused and at least the main characters more developed and knowable (specifically Rolery, Agat, and Wold). The culture of the Askatevar fascinated me, and the world they lived in felt so real by the end of the book that I can feel myself being pulled back there just thinking about it. 

 

My disappointment lies in the ending of the book, which gradually came to feel tedious and uninteresting to me. Once we reached the siege of the farborn city, I just wanted it to be over. I think it’s because, by this point, we weren’t learning much of anything new about the world or the cultures, and we weren’t building up any of the side characters as points of interest. And the new information we did receive (about what was going on evolutionarily with the farborns) wasn’t anything that could have any payoff by the end of the book, so while interesting in theory, the implications would clearly remain unexplored. I think the very last pages could have been touching, if I hadn’t already become so bogged down in the chaotic monotony of the siege that I was ready to be done with the whole thing.

That being said, also very glad to have read it. 

 

 

Temporary DNF – I read the first chapter and I’m intrigued by it, but I think I need a bit of a break before I finish the series. I’ll edit to add my review once I’ve done so. 

One of the best books I’ve read this year. But I think, judging from the average rating and reviews, it's a somewhat divisive book. It doesn’t adhere to the standards that have been set for fantasy in the past few decades, or the strictures of Western storytelling in general. That’s what I loved about it, but I think would make it difficult for some people to connect. There is certainly a level of going-with-the-flow required to enjoy A Stranger in Olondria, an acceptance that you are a stranger following a stranger in a strange land, which means that you won’t get every answer you might wish for, or feel like you can fully situate yourself in the text. I found the experience magical, mythical, like reading an ancient epic or a historical travelogue (without the racism). It can be a little messy at times, or uneven, more reminiscent of real life than a carefully plotted and structured text with airtight worldbuilding. So, if that’s what you’re hoping for from your fantasy – every answer you could ever possibly want or need – this might not be the book for you. But if you want to be swept up in a vivid world painted for you by Samatar’s lush prose, and unknowable as the distant past? This is your book. 

 

I would say that this most reminds me of: 

·  Ursula K. Le Guin in the stylistic elements of the writing and the way that Samatar explores the themes of the book through intricate worldbuilding as much as through plot

·  The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern in the transportive quality of the world, which is just divorced enough from reality to feel truly magical, and in the plot structure, which unfolds in layers and unfurls in spirals – stories within stories. 

The characters are flawed, realistic, and sometimes unintelligible in the way that real humans are – no matter how well depicted, how much you feel like you ‘know’ them, you can never fully predict how they will react in any given moment (the way your partner or your parents still surprise you after decades of learning their habits and quirks). I think it would take me another read to unpack the thematic elements of power and colonization, the tension between oral versus written storytelling, of grief and love, but I will say that Samatar prods more than she attempts to elucidate. 

 

Ultimately, this is a book for people who love exquisite, descriptive prose; who crave classic fantasy, but wish to be taken somewhere completely new; and, more than anything, those who live for stories. 

Coyote's love for humanity - even when exhausted or exasperated, angry or grieving - is clear on every page. Reading their books feels like receiving the deepest, warmest, queerest hug. 

 2024 re-read: 

 

I liked Emma better on a re-read, but it’s decidedly not my favourite Austen novel. I originally read it when I was in high school and hated it back then, but with such distance have always had a difficult time explaining why. I think, as ever, that Austen pulls off some remarkable things. It’s much more a character study than a romance, and an impressively proficient one at that. The way that Austen hounds us with Emma’s perspectives and delusions, while providing insight into how those delusions are being crafted, and where the truth might lie, is truly remarkable storytelling. It feels strange to even review Austen, as I have said before, because her understanding of people (of a certain time/place/class/race) and storytelling ability are just so impressive that it’s impossible to feel like you’re saying anything useful when you praise her work. But I did go into this wanting to understand my dislike, and I have to say Austen’s skill is partly to blame. There are so many fallibly human characters, written so effectively and so believably, that if you’re not someone who can tolerate too much of that sort of thing it can be an exhausting read. The way that my whole body would tense when I saw PAGES of dialogue from Miss Bates… And Miss Bates isn’t even unlikeable! Just gabby. A Miss Bates-style character in a book with either fewer characters or more neutral characters would be a comic delight! But toss her in with Emma, Harriet, the Eltons, and basically everyone else? Mr. Woodhouse’s love for gruel brings me joy, sure, but did I want to read him worrying about other people’s health one more time? I did not. At the end of the day, I always enjoy reading Austen to some degree, but Emma will never by my go-to. 

 

(Side note: I had completely forgotten about the confusingly abrupt, Mrs. Weston-having-a-baby plotline and how much it bothered me as a teen. Well, this time, it led me to a deep-dive online that culminated in the world of Arnie Purlstein’s frantic blogging about Austen’s shadow plots, and woah. What a trip. Don’t recommend.)