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I read this book and its sequel back to back so it feels weird to review one without the other.
I liked it, I thought it did an extraordinary number of things very thoughtfully, and I have like half an essay sitting around that I'll save for the review of the sequel.
I liked it, I thought it did an extraordinary number of things very thoughtfully, and I have like half an essay sitting around that I'll save for the review of the sequel.
I had a hard time putting this book down (which, incidentally, might not be what one wants in a book on Yom Kippur night when one ought to be going to bed) and I feel like there's a lot to talk about in terms of what this book DOES and is trying to do and how I feel about it and Elma and...
Okay, Kowal's at her best when she's meticulously crafting alternate universes. This is true in all her books and no different here. The what-if? scenario that she plays out across these books and stories is ridiculous in its depth and breadth.
What always gets me with Kowal--less in her short stories, more in her novels--is her voice. The attention to detail is there; word choices are informed by life experiences, but there is an absence that goes beyond word usage to...fluency, maybe? The inside of Elma's mind feels like belongs in 2018 and not the 1950s. (The same is true for Kowal's other universes, but the closer they actually ARE to 2018, the less I mind...and the less familiar I am with the era, the less it registers. See "why I don't read Austen books".)
This meant, first of all, that I was trying to figure out whether Elma's attitudes towards race, class, sexual orientation, etc. were a) of 2018, but set in 1950s in a way that doesn't reflect what people were "like" b) appropriate to the alternate timeline, given the effects of the Meteor on global cooperation, c) appropriate to both 2018 and 1950s and, as such, a searing indictment of how little we've improved matters. My sense is a combination of b and c; she doesn't feel out of place, but there's also an AU sense that the world has more space for the other characters to speak up and be heard not only by the people already listening, but also by the ones just learning to.
But the sense of "does this fit?" spills over into my feelings about Elma's Jewishness. I honestly could not be more thrilled that Elma is Jewish--I love that she exists, I love that she just happens to be Jewish, I recognize that this is what most people mean when they say they want representation and that's amazing!* But because there is a kind of niche knowledge here, and because Kowal has done astounding amounts of research, I keep trying to fit Elma into my knowledge of 20th century Jews and she just doesn't fit. I feel like I know where she fits in the 21st century, with the revival of Jewish ritual as a method of meaning making and where non-observant Jews are using specific observances as a form of connection. But most of the people I know from the 50s and 60s were either the kind of people who were not particularly strict about kashrut OR the kind of people who could conjugate שנה טובה תכתבי ותחתמי. Heck, most Orthodox Jews I know wouldn't manage that on the first try. I want to understand what kind of Jewish woman Elma thinks of herself as. Did she go to synagogue? Was there a mechitzah? What is her relationship with kashrut other than "I try to avoid pig"? It's possible that what I'm running into is the limits of my own knowledge about the history of Judaism in the US (which, yes, is limited)...but which also gets to my point that the lived experience of Jews in the US is not the same as possessing knowledge about one's own religion. What turns up in research is different that what I know by living and my lived experience is obviously not comprehensive and, in some ways, I'm assuming it's my lack of experience because anyone is possible. What do you do when the research feels like it outstrips the knowledge available to the character?
Representation is tricky, because the closer it hits to home, the more it can fall into the uncanny valley. I'm not sure it helped or hurt that I am less interested in Jewish characters than Jewish stories (see footnote).
Anyway, these were delightful and clever books and it's clear that they are the books that will bring deep joy to many readers. The fact that they are not written for me can't take away from that.
---
*I think Jewish characters are neat. I want Jewish stories. I'm more interested in secondary worlds based on Jewish traditional stories than I am in SF with people who happen to Jewish. I want stories grounded in midrash, and aggadah and the tales of the shtetl and actual characters from tanakh because I am SO. Very. Tired. of every story being a Jesus story. This is a personal preference and I wish VERY BADLY that there were enough books out there that I could pick and choose the ones I wanted.
Okay, Kowal's at her best when she's meticulously crafting alternate universes. This is true in all her books and no different here. The what-if? scenario that she plays out across these books and stories is ridiculous in its depth and breadth.
What always gets me with Kowal--less in her short stories, more in her novels--is her voice. The attention to detail is there; word choices are informed by life experiences, but there is an absence that goes beyond word usage to...fluency, maybe? The inside of Elma's mind feels like belongs in 2018 and not the 1950s. (The same is true for Kowal's other universes, but the closer they actually ARE to 2018, the less I mind...and the less familiar I am with the era, the less it registers. See "why I don't read Austen books".)
This meant, first of all, that I was trying to figure out whether Elma's attitudes towards race, class, sexual orientation, etc. were a) of 2018, but set in 1950s in a way that doesn't reflect what people were "like" b) appropriate to the alternate timeline, given the effects of the Meteor on global cooperation, c) appropriate to both 2018 and 1950s and, as such, a searing indictment of how little we've improved matters. My sense is a combination of b and c; she doesn't feel out of place, but there's also an AU sense that the world has more space for the other characters to speak up and be heard not only by the people already listening, but also by the ones just learning to.
But the sense of "does this fit?" spills over into my feelings about Elma's Jewishness. I honestly could not be more thrilled that Elma is Jewish--I love that she exists, I love that she just happens to be Jewish, I recognize that this is what most people mean when they say they want representation and that's amazing!* But because there is a kind of niche knowledge here, and because Kowal has done astounding amounts of research, I keep trying to fit Elma into my knowledge of 20th century Jews and she just doesn't fit. I feel like I know where she fits in the 21st century, with the revival of Jewish ritual as a method of meaning making and where non-observant Jews are using specific observances as a form of connection. But most of the people I know from the 50s and 60s were either the kind of people who were not particularly strict about kashrut OR the kind of people who could conjugate שנה טובה תכתבי ותחתמי. Heck, most Orthodox Jews I know wouldn't manage that on the first try. I want to understand what kind of Jewish woman Elma thinks of herself as. Did she go to synagogue? Was there a mechitzah? What is her relationship with kashrut other than "I try to avoid pig"? It's possible that what I'm running into is the limits of my own knowledge about the history of Judaism in the US (which, yes, is limited)...but which also gets to my point that the lived experience of Jews in the US is not the same as possessing knowledge about one's own religion. What turns up in research is different that what I know by living and my lived experience is obviously not comprehensive and, in some ways, I'm assuming it's my lack of experience because anyone is possible. What do you do when the research feels like it outstrips the knowledge available to the character?
Representation is tricky, because the closer it hits to home, the more it can fall into the uncanny valley. I'm not sure it helped or hurt that I am less interested in Jewish characters than Jewish stories (see footnote).
Anyway, these were delightful and clever books and it's clear that they are the books that will bring deep joy to many readers. The fact that they are not written for me can't take away from that.
---
*I think Jewish characters are neat. I want Jewish stories. I'm more interested in secondary worlds based on Jewish traditional stories than I am in SF with people who happen to Jewish. I want stories grounded in midrash, and aggadah and the tales of the shtetl and actual characters from tanakh because I am SO. Very. Tired. of every story being a Jesus story. This is a personal preference and I wish VERY BADLY that there were enough books out there that I could pick and choose the ones I wanted.
Ugh, can't I just rate the series? You all know how I feel by now.
---
Okay, let's talk about a fascinating distinction between literary and non-literary novels (using literary as short form for pretensions to winning the Booker or Pulitzer or whatever): literary novels are not allowed to pass up a chance for ethical/moral struggles. Non-literary novels are. You could not have a literary novel about extra-legal justiciars who are, you know, obviously allowed to work with but outside of the law. You have to make the explicit case and you practically have to problematize it. Non-literary fiction is allowed to have such things and have them work...or, when they fail, have the failure be a bad actor rather than a bad system. Day doesn't need to struggle with "Ahh, is it okay that I stop warlocks even though I do it beyond the bounds of the law?" He doesn't need to have his Watchmen moment, he can just go on getting rid of terrible people. Stephen's actions basically make the case for him and the narrative supports it.
I don't think this is a bad thing, in the same way that Seanan McGuire's InCryptid novels assume that the Price family is good and the Covenant is bad and working with cryptids unless you need to kill them is not a moral position up for interrogating, in the same way that Mercedes Lackey assumes there is nothing weird about teenagers and telepathic horses worth investigating, in the same way that Harry Potter does not ask about the ethics of the Wizarding World and Azkaban.
And, on the one hand, the latter two examples could use some investigation. But McGuire and Charles end up making an argument through their absence of one and I think it's worth reading these books AS IF they were literary and making an argument through what happens in the narrative. In this case, what is Charles saying about the nature of justice and the powerful individual?
---
Okay, let's talk about a fascinating distinction between literary and non-literary novels (using literary as short form for pretensions to winning the Booker or Pulitzer or whatever): literary novels are not allowed to pass up a chance for ethical/moral struggles. Non-literary novels are. You could not have a literary novel about extra-legal justiciars who are, you know, obviously allowed to work with but outside of the law. You have to make the explicit case and you practically have to problematize it. Non-literary fiction is allowed to have such things and have them work...or, when they fail, have the failure be a bad actor rather than a bad system. Day doesn't need to struggle with "Ahh, is it okay that I stop warlocks even though I do it beyond the bounds of the law?" He doesn't need to have his Watchmen moment, he can just go on getting rid of terrible people. Stephen's actions basically make the case for him and the narrative supports it.
I don't think this is a bad thing, in the same way that Seanan McGuire's InCryptid novels assume that the Price family is good and the Covenant is bad and working with cryptids unless you need to kill them is not a moral position up for interrogating, in the same way that Mercedes Lackey assumes there is nothing weird about teenagers and telepathic horses worth investigating, in the same way that Harry Potter does not ask about the ethics of the Wizarding World and Azkaban.
And, on the one hand, the latter two examples could use some investigation. But McGuire and Charles end up making an argument through their absence of one and I think it's worth reading these books AS IF they were literary and making an argument through what happens in the narrative. In this case, what is Charles saying about the nature of justice and the powerful individual?
This is not YA. I mean, it is in the sense that it's about a girl and she is in her teens and it's comprehensible to young adults, but this book is in the grand tradition of the gothic novel, updated for contemporary sensibilities and morals and it's so good.
There's a point in her books where the text shifts from crafting the atmosphere and background to setting off the plot and then it's impossible to put it down. So I didn't.
There's a point in her books where the text shifts from crafting the atmosphere and background to setting off the plot and then it's impossible to put it down. So I didn't.
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It’s hard to read things back in time. Because you read them and you think “oh, this feels derivative” and, no, it’s the thing from which all that you know is derived. But encountering the Ur-text in the wrong order is confusing.
So, anyway, this was fascinating and, with the obvious grain of salt that martial arts don’t WORK that way and we don’t really write fantasy novels where they do (except Yoon Ha Lee’s machineries of empire trilogy somehow manages to do so because reasons, but okay), really fun to read. But, yeah, reading backwards. It’s a heck of a thing.
So, anyway, this was fascinating and, with the obvious grain of salt that martial arts don’t WORK that way and we don’t really write fantasy novels where they do (except Yoon Ha Lee’s machineries of empire trilogy somehow manages to do so because reasons, but okay), really fun to read. But, yeah, reading backwards. It’s a heck of a thing.
Another Navah book. This one wins on the ending. When I started it was a 3, if only because it began slowly and there were too many diacritical marks over names early on, but then I got into it and then the plot kicked in and then there was a grumpy yet attractive and iron-willed dude in a house and, well, I DO have my weak spots and I like seeing this story told well and without making me cringe at the toxic masculinity. Which this book totally achieves.
I just...get through the names and stop trying to pronounce them in your head unless you speak Gaelic and it’ll pick up and not let you go pretty quickly.
Also, there wasn’t enough Caër, but it’s okay. Specifically Caër and Innisth, but it wasn't their story although I feel like the universe could use more non-traditional marriages that appear to be working great in fantasy novels.
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Also, I have a think I'm supposed to be writing, so let's get back to the whole "grumpy, yet attractive powerful man" archetype.
I love this archetype and I think this archetype is...not easy to do well and sometimes problematic even when it is. The thing about liking it is that I read it when it isn't done well TOO and just grump a little more. The fantasy in this kind of story, and it's a familiar trope that I've gone on about in the past, is that you can take a man who is emblematic of mastery and master him. (If this sounds a lot like the way people talk about hounds, horses, and Katherine from the Taming of the Shrew...you're not wrong.) The obvious--to me--archetypal version of this story is Jane Eyre. Jane's entire arc is wresting control of her life back from Rochester, letting the world punish him for his sins and coming back in a position of power where she can give him everything he once wanted to give her. Most versions don't break their male heroes quite so thoroughly and you have the fantasy of the incredibly powerful man (again, see animal training) who is leashed/held at bay by the woman.
OBVIOUSLY, this is going on in Neumeier's book, but I think Neumeier, aside from writing a good version of this story (which, I mean, if you dislike this trope, the fact that it's done well here isn't exactly a selling point), also deconstructs it. The whole thing with the Immanent Powers becomes a way to talk about lineage and inheritance: temperament, upbringing, nature vs. nurture, etc. It externalizes the dangerous impulses that would make Innisth too unlikeable while framing them as a familial burden in a way that resonates with the way that abuse gets passed down through families. Kehera, on the other hand, grows up with a kinder Immanent Power, one from a family that, for generations, taught it to be good people. This is what you inherit from a stable, loving family. Power grounded in stability and love.
Neumeier does this FASCINATING thing where, for all that Kehera masters Innisth, Innisth submits to her brother as king, which makes explicit the whole subordination of baser impulses, but without the familiar gender dynamic. Tirovay calls into question the whole approach of leashing power through love by taking away a significant amount of Innisth's power and becoming the dominant power in the region. There isn't quite enough here to read this as an argument between toxic and non-toxic masculinity that Tiro wins...but almost.
I've almost convinced myself that this is a story about detoxifying masculinity, but then again...
I love that it's a romance. I appreciate the utter delight that is Innisth and I get his appeal and also there is something deeply uncomfortable with who we see as redeemable and what kind of behavior deserves redemption. Some of this is, I think, an attempt to negotiate between toxic and attractive masculinity, while I also think there is a degree of fantasy to it - having power over the powerful is a compelling fantasy, but is it one borne out of the delegitimization of powerful women where I can't have power, but I can have the love of a powerful man who does what I want...or is it merely a thing that some people find attractive and others do not and, you know, whatever bumps your grind? And I think untangling those two--because it is probably both--is an important part of thinking about these stories. And I think Neumeier is, to some degree, doing that here with the use of magic and the threat of mastery as evil even as she's also promoting it with the love story and that's sort of the point of a good book. It's not supposed to be didactic about complex issues.
I just...get through the names and stop trying to pronounce them in your head unless you speak Gaelic and it’ll pick up and not let you go pretty quickly.
Also, there wasn’t enough Caër, but it’s okay. Specifically Caër and Innisth, but it wasn't their story although I feel like the universe could use more non-traditional marriages that appear to be working great in fantasy novels.
-----
Also, I have a think I'm supposed to be writing, so let's get back to the whole "grumpy, yet attractive powerful man" archetype.
I love this archetype and I think this archetype is...not easy to do well and sometimes problematic even when it is. The thing about liking it is that I read it when it isn't done well TOO and just grump a little more. The fantasy in this kind of story, and it's a familiar trope that I've gone on about in the past, is that you can take a man who is emblematic of mastery and master him. (If this sounds a lot like the way people talk about hounds, horses, and Katherine from the Taming of the Shrew...you're not wrong.) The obvious--to me--archetypal version of this story is Jane Eyre. Jane's entire arc is wresting control of her life back from Rochester, letting the world punish him for his sins and coming back in a position of power where she can give him everything he once wanted to give her. Most versions don't break their male heroes quite so thoroughly and you have the fantasy of the incredibly powerful man (again, see animal training) who is leashed/held at bay by the woman.
OBVIOUSLY, this is going on in Neumeier's book, but I think Neumeier, aside from writing a good version of this story (which, I mean, if you dislike this trope, the fact that it's done well here isn't exactly a selling point), also deconstructs it. The whole thing with the Immanent Powers becomes a way to talk about lineage and inheritance: temperament, upbringing, nature vs. nurture, etc. It externalizes the dangerous impulses that would make Innisth too unlikeable while framing them as a familial burden in a way that resonates with the way that abuse gets passed down through families. Kehera, on the other hand, grows up with a kinder Immanent Power, one from a family that, for generations, taught it to be good people. This is what you inherit from a stable, loving family. Power grounded in stability and love.
I've almost convinced myself that this is a story about detoxifying masculinity, but then again...
I love that it's a romance. I appreciate the utter delight that is Innisth and I get his appeal and also there is something deeply uncomfortable with who we see as redeemable and what kind of behavior deserves redemption. Some of this is, I think, an attempt to negotiate between toxic and attractive masculinity, while I also think there is a degree of fantasy to it - having power over the powerful is a compelling fantasy, but is it one borne out of the delegitimization of powerful women where I can't have power, but I can have the love of a powerful man who does what I want...or is it merely a thing that some people find attractive and others do not and, you know, whatever bumps your grind? And I think untangling those two--because it is probably both--is an important part of thinking about these stories. And I think Neumeier is, to some degree, doing that here with the use of magic and the threat of mastery as evil even as she's also promoting it with the love story and that's sort of the point of a good book. It's not supposed to be didactic about complex issues.
This book was adorable and reminded me of Courtney Milan's contemporary romance novels (although Hoang and Milan have noticeably different authorial voices and it works).
Anyway, A+ representation, pretty good job with making the conflict either external or natural rather than forcing someone to act counter to character or in ignorance. (Also, well done solving the overstimulation issues by fixing the environment. It's the little things.)
This review is half in parentheses, so I'll stop now. The Kiss Quotient is an excellent example of what the contemporary romance novel can be and, despite the fact that I mostly refuse to read contemporary romance (I have a 19th century thing, it happens) and so my tastes are calibrated slightly off of what Hoang does here, I love that this exists and I enjoyed it.
Anyway, A+ representation, pretty good job with making the conflict either external or natural rather than forcing someone to act counter to character or in ignorance. (Also, well done solving the overstimulation issues by fixing the environment. It's the little things.)
This review is half in parentheses, so I'll stop now. The Kiss Quotient is an excellent example of what the contemporary romance novel can be and, despite the fact that I mostly refuse to read contemporary romance (I have a 19th century thing, it happens) and so my tastes are calibrated slightly off of what Hoang does here, I love that this exists and I enjoyed it.
Spouse-creature was making fun of me for yelling at the characters in this book, which was fine, I deserved it, but I love yelling at characters when it's because you're worried about them or trying to help them (It's a trap!) or just really want them to kiss already.
This book is right in my wheelhouse. Late 19th/early 20th century level science, magic, mystery...it fits in the same part of the fantasy Venn diagram as Martha Wells "The Fall of Ile Rien" trilogy (which, incidentally, everyone should read). Super-glad I read it and now I want more!
This book is right in my wheelhouse. Late 19th/early 20th century level science, magic, mystery...it fits in the same part of the fantasy Venn diagram as Martha Wells "The Fall of Ile Rien" trilogy (which, incidentally, everyone should read). Super-glad I read it and now I want more!
As others have observed, this is a book that defies what one thinks one likes in a book. I vaguely resent contemporary settings (unless I'm not really invested in the book and just breezing through it), gangsters annoy me, and yet this book was incredibly compelling.
It's not that I couldn't put it down. I put it down for a week because I was pretty sure about something that was going to happen to one of the characters and I was too invested in the story that I didn't want to see it happen.
I was right. I'm still mad, but in a good way.
There is a nerve that contemporary settings and power struggles between corrupt people strikes, at least in me. The term "too close to home" comes to mind in this, the year 5779. There's a difference between something that is not precisely to my taste and something that is not well executed. Jade City is extraordinarily well executed, to the point that it mostly overrode the ways in which it was not to my taste. But that little fizz of discomfort remained. It makes me hope that Lee writes more books, some of which are in my wheelhouse. Because she's a gorgeous writer and I legitimately had a hard time going on to a new book after I finished.
And I'm STILL mad about that character.
It's not that I couldn't put it down. I put it down for a week because I was pretty sure about something that was going to happen to one of the characters and I was too invested in the story that I didn't want to see it happen.
I was right. I'm still mad, but in a good way.
There is a nerve that contemporary settings and power struggles between corrupt people strikes, at least in me. The term "too close to home" comes to mind in this, the year 5779. There's a difference between something that is not precisely to my taste and something that is not well executed. Jade City is extraordinarily well executed, to the point that it mostly overrode the ways in which it was not to my taste. But that little fizz of discomfort remained. It makes me hope that Lee writes more books, some of which are in my wheelhouse. Because she's a gorgeous writer and I legitimately had a hard time going on to a new book after I finished.
And I'm STILL mad about that character.