This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

I have always, always, always been obsessed with the legend of King Arthur. I have read so many retellings of the story. (Mostly fictional – I love it, but I’m not a scholar. Haha.) But seriously, I read T.H. White’s The Once and Future King so many times that the spine broke and it lost pages and I had to buy a new copy. And Marion Zimmer Bradley’s The Mists of Avalon is a favorite that is definitely due for a reread soon. So really, I was sold on this novel, the first in a trilogy of the “untold story of Languoreth—a forgotten queen of sixth-century Scotland—twin sister of the man who inspired the legend of Merlin” from the first moment I set eyes on the cover and read that blurb. I bought it immediately. And then, as it goes, it sat on my shelf for at least a year. Until now. I picked it up as my choice for The Reading Women’s 2020 Challenge, prompt #17, a book over 500 pages.

Sort of already gave you a recap of the plot in my intro, but this novel tells the story of Langoureth, a sixth-century queen of Scotland, who is the twin sister of the man who supposedly inspired the legend of Merlin. Langoureth and her twin, Lailoken, are born in and practice the Old Ways. But as they grow, the influx of a new religion, Christianity, is tearing their country in half. And they simultaneously face a colonizing Anglo-Saxon force from the east. The twins grow up under this tension, each following their own destinies to protect the Old Ways and their lands and peoples, a cause outwardly championed by the famous Pendragon and his Dragon Warriors. Their bond remains strong and close, as they fight for the faith and tradition they both believe in, despite the fact that their paths put them on opposite sides of the religious/political power struggle within the country. Langoureth’s romances, sacrifices, memory and strength are the focus of the new perspective on a well-known and famous legend.

First – wow, just wow. This was spectacular. These 500 pages just flew by and I am over here like, I need the next book now. From the very first paging, the writing was fantastically atmospheric and I felt completely transported in time and place. Pike’s reverence for the setting and subject and characters was so clear in every moment. Each was handled with care and precision and clarity and as much authenticity and vibrant life as possible. (And after reading her “Note from the Author” at the end, it’s clear why – her lifelong love of this legend shines so strongly. Also, due to this section, I’ve added yet another reason why Scotland is one of my favorite places ever – because it was likely the true birthplace of this legend! I really figured there was no way for me to be more into that country…I was wrong.) To sum up what could turn into entirely too much gushing, it all felt smooth and venerated, from the nature to the history to the traditions to the clearly “fictional” parts, like the dialogue and the relationship-building. Also, the pacing was on point. Characterization and exposition and relationships were given the time they deserved to be full and realistic, yet the foreshadowing, and then actuality, of the more dramatic events cropped up often enough to keep the spirit of intrigue and tension and adventure at the forefront. As I said, for a book this long, the pages and time went by quickly. This is especially impressive for an opening novel, in which all background and characters must be introduced, the conflicts must all be developed, and the reader needs to not be bored or lost during it. The fact that this book starts with the twins as young children of ten years and follows them through the years until they are mid-thirties (and the real “meat” of the famous Arthurian legend begins to unfold), just adds to how amazing that is.

A few other things I loved, because I want to mention them all. First, I love how a previously “forgotten” female leader is getting her story “re”-told. There are so many versions of this historical myth, and while some of them do take a feminist perspective, this is the first I’ve read based on this potential newcomer to the story. And if Langoureth was truly a queen, and twin to such a powerful, mystical man as “Merlin,” whose story, such as it is, has survived against many odds, hers deserves to as well. This is especially true if even part of the sacrifices she made in this account are true…from her own freedom/choice to the many wrongs she had to overlook until she gained more power to the pitting of her own family against itself in a war that was completely out of her control. And I loved that that aspect is told with all Langoureth’s own helplessness here. She is a strong and smart and generally well-respected and powerful-is woman…and yet within the times she lived, her choices were difficult ones (sometimes none with a good outcome) and her ability to act on her own feelings was minimal. She was restricted by the role women had in the society in which she lived. And yet, she is still such a strong and courageous leader (or sorts). I know that this is a fictional account, but I really enjoyed the way her situation was dictated by the rules of her time, and that was not sugar-coated, and yet she took what she could, when she could. (And I definitely was into that part of it – I’ll never say no to a good secret romance.)

When I read the last page and closed this book, I literally said “That was AMAZING” out loud. No one heard me, because I’m home alone (well, with the dog, but she’s deaf), but that’s not the point. This was so good. If you are into King Arthur’s legend, druidism/the Old Ways, the history of the British Isles (obviously a bit fictionalized), historical fiction, epic stories/novels, political and religious and interpersonal intrigue, battles and fighting, (a not-overwhelming-amount of) romance, family sagas, fantasy (this is solidly historical fiction, but I read a ton of fantasy and it had that feel to it, in the writing and plot unfolding) OR if you just love being swept away on the tides of phenomenal story-telling, then you need to read this! I cannot wait for the next installment to be published!

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

I am 31 years old, an avid reader, was the nerdy kid in English class who always actually read the books assigned, and yet…this is the first of Toni Morrison’s works that I’ve ever read. I’m disappointed in both myself and all the school systems I went through. But it’s never too late to correct a wrong. And I’m happy to say that now that I have. And, hopefully, will continue to do so, over the hopefully many years of reading I have left! Also, thanks to The Reading Women Challenge 2020 for the bonus prompt to read a “book by Toni Morrison” that gave me the push to pick this one up rather than continuing to procrastinate.

This modern classic tells the story of Sethe, an escaped slave now living in Ohio. In her present day, just after the end of the Civil War, she is living “free,” but followed and weighed down by the memories of her time as a slave at Sweet Home, the trauma of her escape and being hunted down by slave-catchers, and the grief over losing her baby, whose tombstone is engraved with the single word, “Beloved.”

Well, I can see, just after this one work, how Morrison deserved to win the Nobel Prize for Literature. Oh my goodness. This was absolutely not an easy read, for multiple reasons. Obviously, the subject matter is difficult, highlighting a time of dehumanization in American history that is emotionally taxing and extremely guilt-inducing to remember. It would be easier not to acknowledge this part of our country’s past…which is why, I am sure, it is sped through in history class (the human aspect is anyways, and the aftermath; the political and “war” perspectives seem given their due time, in my memory) and many English classes, including mine, do not choose books that cover it in detail like this. But also, Morrison’s writing is something really special – dense and a bit intimidating, but in the exact right way for the subject. It was a challenge and yet simultaneously absolutely compelling, the way the language wrapped around me, enveloped, consumed and threatened to drown me. I felt the weight of her words, the weight of the memories they impart on the reader. I could feel, in a legitimately tangible way, the weight of the characters’ memories and pasts and experiences, the ones they couldn’t forget or leave behind, not matter how hard they tried, transferred into my own mind as I read. Spectacular writing, full of palpable tension and pain and profound emotion.

As for the “plot,” Morrison wrote it to unfold over the length of the book. References and comments are made from the very beginning that make you question, knowing that something is off. And the tone of the writing sets that ambiance of mystery and an overshadowing...something…as well. The way that the characters’ stories unfold, in a meandering through time sort of way, traveling from present to past and back again, with stops in between, only adds to the build-up. It’s a methodically paced development, that sometimes left me with the feeling that I was missing something (I reread a number of sections, and both listened to the audiobook and referenced the physical text as I went, to try to make sure I didn’t miss anything). Morrison made many glancing comments, many metaphorical statements, many substituted images, to send the message of the truth of events without stating them outright that were, in fact, hard to follow. As the novel went, many of them were explained more; never a lot, but enough to understand without mistaking or miscommunication. But some stayed that obtuse or opaque in explanation. This is definitely not a novel to speed read and I could see a reread being very helpful, on this front, as I did feel lost in some sections. And while there is technically a central event that the story revolves around, a choice Sethe made about her children and how best to protect them, this book is less about that event and more about the circumstances that led to Sethe feeling like that was her best option (the idea that she really had any “better” choices under the circumstances being a false reality), the trauma leading up to that moment, the daily struggle to fight against the memories of it all afterwards, and the affect of it on those around Sethe and her interactions with them all as a result. And above all, it is a searing look at and condemnation of not only the inhumanity and humiliation and damage of slavery itself, but also in the racist existence outside of it, from the South to the abolitionist homes/families in the “free North” in the post-Civil War period when slaves were “freed” from technical slavery. This entire period is so often glossed over, as the history of the Black experience in American jumps straight from slavery to the years leading up to and including the Civil Rights movement…disregarding the generations that lived in that in-between time.

There are also a few other themes that this book explores in an affecting way. The biggest, for me, was the look at mother-daughter relationships. The consideration of these relationships under complex conditions that do not allow for the “natural” expression of love and protection between mothers and daughters because there was no control over the circumstances and, even worse, because within that, slave owners and white people in general didn’t view Black people as having the same emotional and developmental capacity for those relationships, in the same way that animals might not have those capacities. The horror of those theories is beyond belief or words. in this novel, Morrison takes those circumstances and plants true mother’s love within them, with the inevitable conclusion that drastic decisions will be made because of a mother’s need to love and protect her children to the best of her ability. It’s terrible, but beautiful at the same time. Along these lines, I have seen some criticism of the book as a ghost story or not, with the “return” of Beloved to Sethe’s life. There are factions that say if she was a ghost, there are holes in the story and things that couldn’t have happened if she were not “real.” And there are others that say she was a regular, normal person and she and Sethe projected onto each other the mother and daughter they both missed and needed. Honestly, I think both make perfect sense and, to take it a step further, I don’t think it matters. Whether Beloved was a ghost in Sethe’s mind, or a real person she latched onto as her returned daughter, the bottom line is that the mother-daughter bond, and the search for it, from those who have lost it, is paramount. Plus, either could be a side effect of wanting or wishing for something so hard that you bring it into existence. And I came away with that message without having to really decide what I thought about Beloved’s state (especially from the couple sections in Part II that were about Beloved but each from a different perspective - Beloved herself, Sethe, and Sethe’s surviving daughter Denver – and those were some of my favorite parts).

There was also quite a bit of time spent on exploring manhood and the affect of slavery on male slaves’ self-identity within the context of what men “should” be and the lack of ability to be that while enslaved. Some of the most graphic scenes of dehumanization (other, of course, than the physical and sexual abuses against the women of this novel) were to drive this point home. And it plays strongly as we see in the one other surviving Sweet Home slave, Paul D, both as he recounts his experiences after leaving Sweet Home and in the ways that he interacts with and responds to Sethe in their relationship. It's heartbreaking in a way that is not always elucidated in literature, as for some reason, it seems to be easier and far more popular to write about abuses against women. And it was just as hard to read, and just as important to show, as the rest.

This novel is haunting and powerful and heavy and shows the pervasive intergenerational affects of trauma as invasive and all-encompassing as slavery was. Morrison holds no punches in the truth-telling of these pages, and it feels oppressive and overwhelming as a reader. And yet, she is able to suffuse a softness into it, with her language, that eases the pain without diminishing the end effect. It’s a transcendent piece of art and writing and remembering and reverence.

This is one of those “modern classics” type books. The ones you often see at used bookstores and sales because everyone seems to have bought a copy to read or have on their shelves, but over the years slowly got rid of as they collected dust (whether or not they were ever read). I have a whole list of these novels in my mind, the books I often see resold because people felt like they should or had to read it, but didn’t connect to it or get into it the way critics and others said they should. Or the books people bought because they were popular and did read and like, but not enough to keep forever and couldn’t pass on to a friend because it seemed like everyone already had a copy. (Does anyone else know what I’m talking about here or is it just me?) Anyways, the long and short of that intro is that I’ve seen and heard a lot about this novel, and its adaptation into a movie and Oprah’s choosing it as one of her book club titles, etc., but never felt a major inclination to pick it up. I know myself and my mood reader preferences and this one just never seemed to be the book that fit my mood. So that made me not totally upset about it being chosen as my long-distance book club pick for this month, because that was the kick I needed to finally pick it up and see what the fuss was about for myself.

“
Loneliness is the human condition. Cultivate it. The way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow. Never expect to outgrow loneliness. Never hope to find people who will understand you, someone to fill that space. An intelligent, sensitive person is the exception, the very great exception. If you expect to find people who will understand you, you will grow murderous with disappointment. The best you'll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way.”

This is Astrid’s story. Sometime around when she was 12 years old, her mother, Ingrid, went to jail for murder and Astrid entered the Los Angeles foster system. For the next six years, Astrid skips from home to home, facing a steady onslaught of new rules, traumas, lessons, being taken advantage of, struggling to grow-up and become who she will be…all while dealing with the toxic relationship that has developed between herself and her mother that follows her wherever she ends up. And yet, when she turns 18 and her freedom is finally within her grasp, along with a chance to finally get what she needs from her mother (if at a price), Astrid and Ingrid are able to find just enough redemption with each other.

“Let me tell you a few things about regret...There is no end to it. You cannot find the beginning of the chain that brought us from there to here. Should you regret the whole chain, and the air in between, or each link separately as if you could uncouple them? Do you regret the beginning which ended so badly, or just the ending itself?”

To be straight up from the beginning, I listened to the audiobook (narrated by Oprah herself) and was about halfway through when I realized it was abridged. I have never read an abridged version of a book before, that I know of. Anyways, I was too far invested (and too close to the book club deadline and also unable to get the book from the library because of coronavirus) to change course. So bear that in mind through this review, though, in general, I don’t think it will change too much honestly. The narration was wonderful. And the power and beauty of Fitch’s writing came through, even in short(er) form. I do think that overall, plot-wise, it where I missed the most. And I guess “plot” is a strong word for the events unfolding in this novel either way. It’s definitely more of a character development focused piece. And to that end, I felt very invested and involved in Astrid and Ingrid and their play with/off each other. But I think the biggest “hole” I had in my experience was how well I got to know the “side” characters. I got full and vibrant pictures of each of Astrid’s foster homes and families, but I never felt like I deeply connected with any of them. That, and the fact that I didn’t completely track how long Astrid spent in each place (and therefore, was not always sure of how old she was in any given part, other than “older than before,”) I choose to believe, were due to the abridgement.

“I had to face this, that people left, and you didn’t see them again.”

That quote basically, in my opinion, could have been a tagline or sub-title for this entire novel. Astrid’s life is a series of relationships that connections that disappear. With the exception of her mother and one foster-home friend, Paul, the people in Astrid’s life leave one after another. All for different reasons that truly have nothing to do with her (her foster experiences really are one trauma after another – TW for sexual abuse/sex with a minor, gun-violence and suicide). And yet Astrid is left to deal with each on her own, without a constant touchpoint other than a mother in jail who is emotionally manipulative and really not a paragon of mental health or parenting in any way. And Fitch’s words do a powerful job portraying each of these interactions and relationships. She has such a poetry to her writing. It is artistic and lovely, for all the pain it carries with it. A literary juxtaposition that worked so well.

“But then I realized, they weren't calling out for their own mothers. Not those weak women, those victims. Drug addicts, shopaholics, cookie bakers. They didn't mean the women who let them down, who failed to help them into womanhood, women who let their boyfriends run a train on them. Bingers, purgers, women smiling into mirrors, women in girdles, women on barstools. Not those women with their complaints and their magazines, controlling women, women who asked, what's in in for me? Not the women watching TV while they made dinner, women who dyed their hair blond behind closed doors trying to look twenty-three. They didn't mean the mothers washing dishes wishing they'd never married, the ones in the ER, saying they fell down the stairs, not the ones in prison saying loneliness is the human condition, get used to it.
They wanted the real mother, the blood mother, the great womb, mother of fierce compassion, a woman large enough to hold all the pain, to carry it away. What we needed was someone who bled...mother's big enough, wide enough for us to hide in...mothers who would breathe for us when we could not breathe anymore, who would fight for us, who would kill for us, die for us.”

The meat of this novel, the focal piece, is, of course, the mother-daughter relationships. Of course, for the majority of the book, disregarding some moments at the beginning and the end, the main mother -daughter pair, Ingrid and Astrid, is quite poisonous. The manipulation and mind games and “hard truths” that Ingrid throws at her daughter are heart-breaking to read. And Astrid experiences a number of other examples of motherhood in her foster homes, all flawed in greater or lesser ways, all working “in her best interests” in ways that definitely don’t always seem that way. Even the best foster situation she was in (and by that I mean, healthiest, regarding what Astrid got out of it), was with a mother/family who “needed” a daughter for reasons with ulterior motives. But the good moments there were full of warmth and poignancy that showed glimpses of what a good mother-daughter bond could be. Still, it was maybe real and maybe only felt that way in comparison – the unknowing there is “kudos” to the author for creating such an uncertainty. In summary, many dysfunctional types of motherhood were presented in this novel, and yet in each instance, Astrid never gave up the hope for something better, the connection(s) she deserved to have. That hope was present throughout, alongside the ache, leaving her open to the small redemption Ingrid gets a chance for at the end. Which was almost as hard to read as all the traumatic experiences because as a reader, I didn’t know if she deserved it (maybe didn’t want her to have it), but I get that for Astrid to move on and be able to live, for herself, she needed to give it. Astrid needed, and deserved, to have a mother, however flawed or ill, at least in part the way that she had wanted/imagined.

“No matter how much she had damaged me or how flawed she was, how violently mistaken, my mother loved me. Unquestionably.”

This was a dark and disturbing (topically), but beautiful, so beautiful (in language) novel. I see why Oprah picked it, I see why it was made into a movie and got popular, but I can also see why is languishes on shelves (at least in my imagination). And I think even if I read a physical copy, or listened to a non-abridged version, I would have felt the same. It’s not a style that will appeal to everyone and, for me, is not something am always into. I respect it, but I am not sure that it was totally for me. (Also, and this may just be a situation of bad timing, I just finished T Kira Madden’s memoir, which focused a lot on complex and not-always-pretty parental relationships and I loved it. Like, it’s a new all-time favorite for me. And perhaps the similar themes in this book made me compare the two in my head more than I would have if I hadn’t read them so close to each other…or, perhaps, like I said, this novel just wasn’t for me.) Long story short, I liked this novel. I thought it was poetic and rough in balancing measure. And I can see why so many think it’s great. But it didn’t speak to me personally.

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

Well, I think we could all agree that I knew I’d be reading this one. Tagged as lesbian necromancers in space, there was really no more I needed to know. And all the awards it’s been nominated for since then really only reinforced what I already knew. In fact, this was in the stack of books I bought for myself with Holiday gift money back in January. I had hoped to get to it sooner, but I’m horrific at getting through TBR piles (not the mention the fact that I bought myself quite a few books at that time)…I blame it less on myself and more on how many amazing books are being published faster than I can keep up with them. Anyways, I’d also like to point out that this is the book I chose to use for The Reading Women Challenge 2020 prompt #22, “by a favorite or new-to-you publisher.” I freaking love Tor Books, so much, so this falls under the “favorite” option.

Raised by the Ninth House after being “mysteriously” orphaned, Gideon is done with the reanimated corpses and old, unfriendly nuns. She is fully trained with her sword, has a stash of dirty magazines for the road, and is on her way to (finally) carrying out an escape plan. But her nemesis, Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House, has other plans. The Emperor needs new necromancers and Harrow is convinced that her talent is enough to win her the role that will bring new “life” and recognition to the failing Ninth House. But she has one need that only Gideon can help with – she needs a swordswoman. And though Gideon can’t think of anything she wants less that to serve Harrow any longer, the deal for freedom she strikes in exchange is impossible to pass up. And so Harrow and Gideon set off together to compete against the heirs of each of the other Houses to win the right to become one of the Emperor’s immortal, all-powerful servants.

Whoa. Just whoa. First, I am on a role with fantastically entertaining (and fun) adult fantasy this year. First, The Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo and now this one. Randomly, they both have ninth in the title – weird trend. But yea, I loved this one. Almost from start to finish I read it was a smile on my face (minus some gory parts in the middle where things got a little grimace-y and one spot at the end where I surprised myself by how emotionally invested I got in some of the characters and their relationships to each other). Gideon’s snark was hilarious to read – it’s not often a character can come across so sarcastic in a way that doesn’t get old or feel forced – and it’s a style of humor that I gravitate towards in real life, with real people/friends, so I was into it here. I also got into Harrow’s particular brand of sour insult-y-ness. It fit her role and the story really well and played nicely with Gideon’s personal brand. All in all, both with Gideon and Harrow, but also with the rest of the characters, I thought the dialogue was great – smart and quick. Dialogue is always a major make or break for me with a novel and it was a big “make” here. And in line with that, the general writing and pacing was spot on. This was a fast-moving and diverting novel that really kept me wanting to turn pages. The generic parts of the plot (the competition against other “players” to win a coveted position) are really nothing ground-breaking, but the more individual aspects added in, like necromancy (not a magic I have read much about before, so the originality in that magic-system were super interesting for me) and the scientific/experimental characteristics of challenges were unique. Although there were maybe a few times where the more technical parts of the necromancy and/or the trials themselves lost me, the main ideas were clear enough to allow me to take the basic understanding I needed from them and rush headlong into the next plot point (which was really all I wanted to do).

Moving more into the developmental pieces of the story, I really appreciated the two-person team set-up, with the relationships of the necromancers and their swords-people being integral to the success or failure of their “mission.” It allowed for some great character-building over the course of the story (I for sure got invested in some of the pairs from the other Houses), especially for our focal pair, Gideon and Harrow. Knowing that they entered this competition as mortal enemies (this is a pretty obvious development so I don’t think it’s a spoiler to touch on it), their enemies-to-friends (and maybe more?) development was stellar. It was never smooth, which is expected and realistic, and in fact it was often ugly and unhealthy and kind of awful(?) for them both. Yet, it came across as genuine under the circumstances and taking their pasts into account, and built to an ending that definitely felt right. That ending, which, btw, I LOVED, was quite intensely emotional, on a number of levels, in a way that I wasn’t necessarily expecting from the rest of the story. But like I said, it felt right. (Side note – there are some reviews that said there wasn’t enough lesbian in this “lesbian necromancers in space” novel – and while I do think the marketing team played that up a bit more than we actually get, in comparison with the space and necromancy aspects, I definitely felt a number of legitimate lesbian connections throughout and I would argue that this novel was, on the whole, not meant to ever be a romance, in the traditional sense, within the setting and circumstances the author created. So, for my part, I wouldn’t have been against something more explicit showing up, but I also don’t feel let down by what I got, within the context we were given.)

At this time, I’d like to take a moment to say that I deeply appreciate Muir’s willingness to go full in on character deaths (to a wonderfully violent/gory extreme) from beginning to end. Again, I don’t think I’m spoiling anything to say that there were a number of deaths (many, many deaths), and that not a single one was easy or clean. But it was also the perfect sci-fi necromantic type of violence and grittiness, so get ready for that and enjoy it!

A darkly hilarious, phenomenally gruesome, creative and wonderfully ghastly necromantic sci-fi adventure. I loved it from start to finish and am so excited to pick this story back up with Harrow the Ninth.

“‘A head start,’ said her necromancer, ‘is the only advantage one can claim by choice.’”

“Things were happening too much.”

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

There has definitely been a trend in recent literature for speculative stories about dystopian futures (especially in the US and especially for women). This isn’t really a surprise, I don’t think, considering some of the leadership we’re currently experiencing. And it definitely adds a realistically frightening edge to the speculative-ness of the stories. Obviously, Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale was published well before all this current political backwardness, though the tv show adaptation is timely. But, I’ve also read and reviewed others much like it more recently published, including Louise Erdrich’s Future Home of the Living God, Leni Zumas’ Red Clocks, and, a personal favorite of mine though in a slightly different speculative-message-vein, The Power by Naomi Alderman. I enjoy the sub-genre, but I have to say, these types of books can be pretty stressful and anxiety-inducing to read…I have to remember to keep them spread out.

Vox is based on a speculative future in which women in the United States have been relegated back in time – to when they cared for the home and children and didn’t learn to read or write. But it’s taken even further with a limitation on how many words they can speak – 100 per day, no more. And this applies to all girls, even those not old enough for words. Dr. Jean McClellan is in denial that this is possible in her own country, coming to terms with how she should have done more to prevent it and, as a leading scientist in a very specific field, is given a chance to, maybe, step up and reclaim her voice, for herself, her daughter and all the women whose words have been stolen from them.

I had seen a number of mixed reviews for this novel, but as I tend to like this genre and because I was fascinated by the premise (silencing voices is form of oppression that I’ve seen as part of other plots, but never as the full focus before), I wanted to read it and see for myself. I can officially and confidently say that I am on team “mixed feelings” with so many others. There were some aspects of this novel that were spectacular, I thought, and I still really like the concept. But there also were a number of logistical holes that I struggled to overlook (usually I am better than this, but like, there were just so many). My notes while reading were so clearly split down the middle and I feel like this is a case where the best review I can write will take the form of bullet points and lists, so that’s what I’m going to do.

First, the good/great:
• Completely surface level, but the cover is perfect – stark and arresting.
• The vibe is spot on. From the very first page, the sense of angry helplessness I had while reading was intense and uncomfortable, which is exactly what I wanted from this book.
• Great plot build. I’ll talk about the plot holes in my “the bad” list below, but I have to be honest and say that the pacing and tension building in the plot were nicely developed.
• I absolutely LOVED the message about how silence/lack of action equals acquiescence, in no uncertain terms. This novel is a strong and necessary indictment of those who look away and prefer not to notice: those who get “annoying” by protesters/agitators, those who don’t vote, those who choose not to notice until something affects them, those living in a “bubble,” etc.
• The narrator did a great job (I listened to the audiobook).
• Thorough look at how limited speech can be harmful, past the obvious and horrifying loss of the right to free speech in a general sense, like the inability to correctly develop speech for small children, pregnant/sick women with complications who cannot voice the problem, etc. Similarly, looking at other “complications,” like what to do with single women, queer women and other social non-conformers.
• The neuro-linguistics science – it’s not something I’ve read a book about before, or seen featured in a book, and it was really interesting in a general sense.
• Nice illustration of the complete hypocrisy and disconnect between the theoretical honorable and holy “role” of women and the very un-honorable and un-holy resulting treatment they end up facing as a result of that belief.
• The one big detail at the end that we never find out (no spoilers). But I really, really liked that the author did that because it’s a wonderfully symbolic way to show large-scale changes on a personal level, because that detail doesn’t matter anymore.

And now, the “meh”/bad:
• This concept is awful, and no mistake, but I don’t understand why reading and writing are not an option for women. Like, it’s not a replacement for speaking, and this is a “it should never have happened” thing, and I can kinda see how they could track sign-language and punish people for using that so it’s safer not to, but I don’t understand why reading and writing weren’t available to Jean and how that could have been tracked monitored (especially since her husband, the man in the home, wasn’t a crazy follower/believer and would have let her). Seems like a big thing to not explain more thoroughly.
• The plot holes. Ugh. This was the part that really frustrated me because the book had so much potential. But like, I just had so many questions. (I accept that a number of these can be explained away, and kind of are at times, by Jean’s limited perspective and acquaintance group, plus her husband’s position in the government…but still.)
o The timeline(s). This all happened in a year? Come on. What about hard to reach populations, homeschooling, those who go underground to avoid being “caught,” and just the general manpower (no pun intended) it would take to produce and distribute the “bracelets” to that many people that quickly? And then, the ending – I don’t care how close Jean was to “knowing” things and having the answers before all this happened, science never moves that fast. It just doesn’t.
o Bracelets can just be removed, right? You can’t tell me a large portion of the population didn’t immediately figure out how to get them off.
o The “big plan” from the government to mis-use Jean’s research. It’s nefarious and I understand it as and end goal and it’s not a terrible “big bad.” However, I feel like I did not get enough info at all. Like, how was the government planning to make sure only women were affected?? Once something gets into water, it’s a free-flow (this pun I did intend) situation. And also, like, what good does that do them? I “get” wanting to subdue/subjugate women, but like, even if you figure out how to run an entire workforce without them, they still, under this outlook, need to be capable enough to run a home, which requires some level of communication and awareness.
• In general, the science was interesting, but in practice, Jean’s “aha” moments were often too vague for me to follow or feel like I had a grasp on, which got frustrating.
• The ending seemed too easy. Like, all the roles and jobs everyone had from the beginning made it line up that way, and it fell out reasonably with that taken into account. But it seemed a bit predictable and, like I said, too simple an out/too forgiving for Jean and perhaps too quick of a rebound on the country level.
• There was an attempt, though minimal/nominal, at intersection-ally addressing this potential situation. The narrow view could be realistic based on the narrator, and it’s definitely refreshing that Jean admits her failings and lack of consideration on that front, but even still the time/effort given to/spent on that perspective was still lacking.

Conceptually, this was a frightening cautionary tale (especially with the US’s current political state of affairs and support for the MAGA ideals). And the anger and frustration and dread I felt while reading was palpable. I love when a book makes me feel that strongly. Plus, the moral, to get involved in social issues and politics before it gets to this point, to help prevent these kinds of extremes, is so important. However, I really struggled with the overall execution of the story. The many plot holes and unanswered questions I had kept pulling me out of the story. If you are a fan of this speculative women’s rights sub-genre, and you’ve wanted to read this, I think you should still go for it. It makes you think a bit and gets your feels up…but it just wasn’t what I was hoping for and it wasn’t what it could have been.

“‘You’re getting hysterical about it.’ […] ‘Well, someone needs to be hysterical around here.’”

“…you can’t protest what you don’t see coming.”

“You can take a lot away from a person – money, job, intellectual stimulation, whatever. You can take her words, even, without changing the essence of her. Take away camaraderie, though, and we’re talking about something different.”

“Memory is a damnable faculty.”

“I suppose, if things ever return to normal, they’ll use that old chestnut of a line: I was only following orders. Where have we heard that before?”

“The follies of men have always been tolerated.”

“Monsters aren’t born, ever. They’re made, piece by piece and limb by limb, artificial creations by madmen who, like the misguided Frankenstein, always think they know better.”

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

This book has sat on my shelf, unread, for years. It’s curious, because it’s so lauded a historical fiction of a time period that I love reading about, so I can’t figure out why I hadn’t picked it up before. But the recent publication (and Women’s Prize short-listing) of the final book in the trilogy, along with a well-timed #bookstagram readalong for #MantelinMay that I came upon, conspired to, finally, prompt me to start.

This is, of course, the start of a three-book series about the life of Thomas Cromwell, an advisor first to Cardinal Wolsey and, after, to the quite famous Henry VIII (he of the six wives). The book opens with a bit about Cromwell’s childhood, focusing in on the abuse he received from his father that prompted him to run from England, and his time abroad as a soldier, businessman and later the time period’s version of a lawyer. It then covers his time in service to Wolsey (both while Wolsey was “in power” and then his continued loyalty even after Wolsey lost favor). And finishes up following the beginnings of his direct service to Henry VIII and his rise in the king’s favor and influence, as he helped bring to fruition Henry’s divorce from Katherine of Aragon (and, thus, the Pope/Catholic Church) in preference to Anne Boleyn. Simultaneously, the novel covers quite a bit of in depth exploration of the politico-religious arguments and complications of the time, the rise in religion for the “regular man” with Protestantism and Martin Luther and the (violent/deadly) lash-backs from the powerful church leaders, led in major part by Thomas More. And last, to add some nuance to the story by being more than just a historical re-overview and retelling, there is the private and family life of Cromwell himself, his children and fosters and lady interests, that is included (as would make sense, as this is a trilogy focused on Cromwell’s story and perspective of the time).

As historical fiction goes, let me just start by saying that this is a dense one. Like, I want there to be no illusions or misunderstandings as you read through the rest of my review (which, I must say, will be primarily positive), that this novel is an undertaking. It was not light nor fast nor easy to read. I had both a physical copy and the audiobook on hand while reading, the first to use as reference and the second to keep me moving. And I do not think this reading experience would have been nearly as positive with just one or the other. It’s fiction, in the sense that of course the dialogue and many of the individual interactions must be embellished for the sake of the “story” from limited primary source material, but the over all emphasis for me, fell strongly to the historical side of historical fiction. And one legitimate complaint I had (which I have heard from numerous sources is addressed in the next two books) is that there were so many times that “he” was used with incredibly unclear antecedents. I was quite confused and frustrated by that at first, as I was a bit with Mantel’s writing style, but I found that that is a book to get lost in. I needed to find long stretches of reading time (this is not a “15 minutes here and there” type novel) and let the book take me away. That helped both with the density and the confusion I was feeling. And in fact, it not only helped…I actually found myself getting totally lost in Mantel’s recreation of Cromwell’s world. It became tangible in its reality and her dry, witty writing and incredibly smart dialogue swept me away for hours on end. I absolutely would argue that the struggle at the beginning was worth it, but I also recommend knowing what you’re getting into and being in the right mindset for it before starting, because otherwise it probably won’t ever click.

As far as the story itself, if you are a legitimate historical nerd, you will love it! This is clearly a stage-setting sort of novel, as all first books are. (that impression has been supported by the many people who say the “action,” as if were, picks up a lot in book two). But even with a “slower” plot, I was into it. The unfolding of Cromwell’s humble beginnings and his family life really were fascinating to me. It’s a very “rags to riches” type story and I can’t say I was really expecting that. In addition, I love this time period of history, as I have said. Henry VIII has always fascinated me, so reading this perspective of him as a king and person and a more general look at his reign was very new and I enjoyed the experience. And the way this book introduces the social and political and religious “setting” for itself and the rest of the trilogy is thorough and well done. I will say that having a general background knowledge of this time period before starting was very helpful. There are a lot of characters/players, (so many of whom are named Thomas!) and between the number of characters, their multiple titles/nicknames, and the many unclear uses of “he,” I would have been lost without my prior knowledge. So I would say that, if you don’t know much about this time, make sure to have a physical copy (there are some character lists/trees for reference at the beginning) on hand, as well as access to a phone/internet so you can google as needed. However, my a third of the way through, ish, things settled in nicely.

I was very, very impressed with this novel. It was a lot of effort at the start, but evened out, at least for me, as I continued reading. It was so smart, funny in good measure (in a correct, dry, British sort of way), historically insightful, with complex characters and relationships and a clear depth of research on the side of the author to bring it all to life realistically, accurately and in an entertaining way. Mantel is such a wordsmith, but the subtle way she weaves her literary spell won’t catch every reader – I get that. However, if it catches you…wow, be ready for the way you’ll disappear into the world (the land, the people, the history) she re-creates. I plan to wait for a bit to let this one settle, but I absolutely plan to continue/finish this trilogy.

“But we could not know how she would rise and rise.”

“I suppose once it’s gone it’s gone. I suppose fortune, when it’s lost, it will never visit again.”

“There cannot be new things in England. There can be old things freshly presented, or new things that pretend to be old. To be trusted, new men must forge themselves and ancient pedigree […] or enter into the service of ancient families. Don’t try to go it alone, or they’ll think you’re pirates.”

“It is the only honest thing to be done: look after your children.”

“He wonders again if the dead need translators; perhaps in a moment, in a simple twist of unbecoming, they know everything they need to know.”

“You can calculate the actions of unprincipled men. As long as you feed them they’ll run at your heels.”

“I have written books and I cannot unwrite them. I cannot unbelieve what I believe. I cannot unlive my life.”

“…it was never really silence, was it? It was loud with his treason; it was quibbling as far as quibbles would serve him, it was demurs and cavils, suave ambiguities. It was fear of plain words, or the assertion that plain words pervert themselves; [his] dictionary, against our dictionary. You can have a silence full of words. A lute retains, in its bowl, the note it has played. The viol, in its strings, holds a concord. A shriveled petal can hold its scent, a prayer can rattle with curses; an empty house, when the owners have gone out, can still be loud with ghosts.”

“But the trouble is, maps are always last year’s. England is always remaking herself, her cliffs eroding, her sandbanks drifting, springs bubbling up in dead ground. They regroup themselves while we sleep, the landscapes through which we move, and even the histories that that trail us; the faces of the dead fade into other faces, as a spine of hills into the mist.”

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

I am not sure where I first heard about this memoir, but the title, and knowing that it was written by a queer woman, had me adding it to my TBR without knowing much more. Then I actually bought it for myself in my Holiday “gift to myself” book haul in January. As I was looking through possible book options for The Reading Women Challenge 2020 prompt #24, a book from their own 2019 Award Shortlists, I saw this was one of the nonfiction short-listers, and knew both that it was going to be my choice and that now was the time to start reading it.

This memoir covers, primarily, Madden’s childhood and formative years in Boca Raton, Florida. The focus of many of the pieces, as the title hints at, is her relationship with her parents, though her father’s fairly recent death definitely brings her relationship with him as a central point of introspection and remembrance. There are also a few essays that cover more recent years, with, again, a focus on [reconnecting with] her father, in addition to (at least in part) her sexual awareness/awakening/exploration/understanding and coming-out. There is also a wonderful (and “twist”-y, in a way that makes you realize that sometimes real life is stranger than fiction) last section that covers some of her mother’s life and the way certain choices she made in her youth (or was forced to make) have had reverberating effects through the years and in Madden’s present-day life.

I’d like to just open with the fact that this memoir was amazing. I couldn’t stop reading it. The language was so gorgeous, the writing so artistic, poignant in an emotionally staccato sort of way that I loved, that I tried to read it slowly, to savor it (it’s writing that is made to be savored). I tried so hard to pace myself. But by the time I was about a third of the way through, I just couldn’t hold back anymore and I binged the rest of it in a single sitting. I just legitimately couldn’t help myself. It was that compulsively compelling.

If you are someone who had any form of turbulent relationship with a parent, or one with any inconsistences in involvement and oversight, Madden captures that reality perfectly. She speaks about both the small, beautiful moments they shared together throughout her childhood, the sacrifices and changes they worked hard to make for her benefit. And at the same time, she is able to clearly and candidly discuss the emotional trauma many of their choices directly/indirectly caused her (TW: sexual assault, substance use, some neglect). It elicits nostalgia, love and sympathy simultaneously and her ability to write that all at once really got me in the feels (all types of feels). Even if some of the extremes in her parents’ lives don’t apply to you or your experience, there is still a recognizability in the ups and downs of a parent-child relationship that applies to a much wider spectrum of people and added quite a bit of depth to her personal memories and tellings.

There are a few essays in particular that I want to call out, that I particularly liked or was affected by. First, I loved “Another Word for Creep” - I recognized myself in a number of parts of it and there’s always something special about those types of books/essays, for me, as a reader. In this vein, I really saw parts of myself in the many unexplainable(?), confused(?) reactions that she had to other girls throughout her younger years, that cropped up as small parts in many of the essays. This unknown pull, with words to express it or understand it (because who were the models for what was possible there?) was very familiar. I picked up on it every single time she noted it and could think of a similar time I had for every single one. In “Can I Pet Your Back,” the list of things that the “popular” people were allowed to do/have/try that I absolutely was forbidden from came back in a rush. Almost every single thing Madden mentioned hit on a memory I thought I has forgotten and the things I wanted but wasn’t allowed. I definitely don’t regret not being allowed them, not anymore, but the feeling of it being so unfair still lives in me. “Collected Dates With My Father” was emotional and poignant – I loved that entire essay from start to finish, including (maybe especially) the way it jumped in time. And, of course, the last section, all of “Kuleana.” From learning more about Madden’s mother’s story, of finding new/lost family, and learning a bit about Hawaiian legends/beliefs, had me completely invested, lost in the pages. Last note, and this is a smaller thing, not specific to a single essay, but every time she mentioned her nosebleeds, I felt a major stir of connection. I had terrible and repetitive nosebleeds, bad ones, as a child. I had a couple small procedures to address them, but I remember being so embarrassed by it, because I couldn’t really control when they happened and stopping them was sometimes very difficult. Down to the feeling of swallowing down the feeling of blood in her throat with her head tipped back, it gave me visceral flashbacks.

After reading the first couple essays, I took a break to stalk Madden on IG a little bit (because, of course) and saw a recent post she made with an adolescent photo of herself and an apology to that younger self for all she had to endure growing up, with a message saying she, Madden, loved her. Honestly, that basically sums up how I felt reading and reacting to this entire memoir. It was mesmerizing, touching, blunt and sort of musical (I don’t know exactly what I mean by that, by the descriptor sounds right to me, so I’m keeping it). What a family, what a life and *hugs* to the girl who lived it all and survived to share it with others like herself who need the touchstone it will provide. I devoured this memoir and I highly recommend it.

“I think about the look just before the happening.”

“Secrets are the only kind of love I know.” (a haunting and affecting line for a child to say/feel)

“A body, severed, does not die right away. If fights, thrashes. Every part of it remembers.”

“She is strong in ways I won’t comprehend until I am much older.” (this line really struck me, what things we don’t understand the magnitude and difficulty of as children)

“But I’d do anything. That’s the problem with me. It still is. I never even pretend to hesitate.” (hits hard and deep)

“No one can hurt you the way a mother can. No one can love you the way a mother can.”

“Sometimes it feels like we are only this: moments of knowing and unknowing one another. A sound that is foreign until it’s familiar. A drill that’s a scream until it’s a drill. Sometimes it’s nothing more than piecing together the ways in which our hearts have all broken over the same moments, but in different places. But that’s romantic. Sometimes it’s realer than that.”

“It’s not that I never thought about it. Girls. Women. It’s that I thought about it too much.” (this, this is it)

“I start to run. Slowly at first, and then faster. A neck-throbbing run. We run from the sharp pings of freezing rain and we run to keep our blood from freezing. We run for [her] hair. I run to keep my hands from trembling. She runs to show me how well she can run in heels. I run because I don’t want time to talk, for her to take back what she’s just said, or for me to do the same.”

“If my mother gave me language, my father gave me magic.”

“But that mother-daughter things – I believe in it now. It’s something that can spool out forever like a string between two cups. A thread that will hum when you need it.”

This was the perfect snow day read. I've always loved British history, but more specifically, I've always been fairly obsessed with the Tudors. Lady Jane Grey has always been a particularly interesting and, to be honest, sad, piece of the Tudor family line. The young woman was the center of so many machinations to control the power of England's throne, and in the end paid the ultimate price for being everyone's pawn. Similarly sad, Edward died so very young and never had a chance to prove what kind of leader he could be (leaving the country in the hand's of "Bloody Mary" for many years until Elizabeth, my absolute fav, came to the helm). In any case, this re-telling of the story, blessed with a little magic, ample shape-shifting, a healthy dose of humor (in the vein of the Princess Bride and Monty Python), a sprinkling of Shakespeare lines used liberally out of context, and the perfect amount of awkward teen relationships and happily ever afters, was highly entertaining. A virtual treasure trove of fun and adventure with just enough actual history to please the buffs mixed with enough imaginative recreations to correct all the more depressing parts of the story. Jane gets to keep her head (and finds love), Edward also survives (and gets his wish to experience a kiss, maybe even more, before dying), Mary's bloody reign (all the burnings at the stake for heretics/Edians) is averted, and best of all Elizabeth gets to jump right onto the throne (leading England to a more prosperous future even sooner). A rousing and humorous journey to happy endings all around. So so much fun!

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

I read the first of the novels by “The Lady Janies,” My Lady Jane, a few years ago on a snow day. It was a “retelling” of Lady Jane Grey, the queen for nine days of famous British historic lore, full of magic and shape-shifting and humor gave this tragic story a fun twist and a happy ending. So I was thrilled to learn that not only was this trio planning to write another Jane retelling, but it was going to be a Jane Eyre retelling – one of my favorite classics of all time! (You may recall me saying this same thing as I reviewed other retellings of it, like Brightly Burning and Ruined.)

This “recap” of the plot will be basic, as I’ve already mentioned that this is a retelling of the famous novel by Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre. And all our favorite elements, like Jane being an orphan, her terrible “red room” experience, the horrific time at finishing school, becoming a governess at Thornfield Hall and falling in love with Mr. Rochester, the drama over Rochester’s still-around wife, Jane’s running away and time at a parsonage, her return to Thornfield, the terrible fire…they’re all still there. But this time, there are GHOSTS! And Charlotte herself is present, having adventures alongside Jane and writing it all down as ideas for the books she plans to write (some that make it into the final draft and some that are left out because “who would believe it?”). Plus, she gets her own love story. *satisfied sigh*

Well, just like the first book, this is some of the most fun I have ever had while reading a book. I’ll actually pull a combination comparison out that I used before, because I think it’s spot on here as well. This is like a combination of Princess Bride and Monty Python – humorous in a way that makes one snort out loud while reading. Like, I know many books that are described as funny that are, but like, I can still react to hem silently. This book…this book pulled audible reactions out of me. And that is something that, especially these days, one can’t really put a price on. It’s humor that is well placed to appeal to present-day readers, as on point commentary of the customs and expectations of these Victorian England times, as well as just a general sarcastic bent that definitely appeals to me. Plus, there are many moments where the authors describe or reference events and books that are basically contemporary pop culture and finding those little gems as they popped up throughout made reading this that much more fun. I smiled almost the whole time I was reading and I cannot recommend that feeling enough.

As far as the plot, it was chock full of supernatural action and romantic drama from start to finish. Jane Eyre can see (and possibly even control) ghosts, there is a Society for the Relocation of Wayward Spirits, there are multiple murder mysteries, there are marriage proposals and secret crushes, there is a plot to control the king and take over the country, there are betrayals and possessions, and there is so much more! I loved the way that the elements of Jane Eyre the novel and Charlotte Brontë’s real life were combined so that they could coexist through these many adventures, in a way that seamlessly brings together fact and fiction. It was such an appealing (and really recognizable on many levels, though obviously ridiculous at the same time) tale of best friends, both searching for a meaningful and love-filled life.

A downright delight of a read; absolutely binge-worthy. I listened to the audiobook and the narrator’s voice was spot on for the snarky tone of the writing, so if you are an audiobook person, I would recommend that. Though I read the first one as a physical copy and sped through it as well, so really the method of consumption seems to not matter – the entertainment value of these novels will shine through no matter what. If you ever need a literary pick-me-up, look no further!