mariebrunelm's Reviews (478)

Cela fait quatre ans que Sarda est tombée. Les Sabès ont déferlé sur les citadelles, et même les cavalières et leurs dragons n’ont pu arrêter les envahisseurs, ni l’incendie qui ravage la forêt. Pourtant, le combat n’a pas cessé. Des groupes de résistantes ne cessent de houspiller l’ennemi, en attendant le moment où leurs actions éparpillées pourront devenir une vraie lame de fond et renvoyer les Sabès dans leurs Comtés.

Difficile de résumer le tourbillon qu’est Nous Serons l’Incendie, suite indépendante du Chant des Cavalières, un des romans que je recommande le plus autour de moi. Là où le Chant suit principalement Sophie et sa quête d’identité face à celle que l’on veut lui imposer, l’Incendie est un kaléidoscope de voix où nulle n’est plus importante que les autres. Maîtresse-cavalière, humble villageoise, mage, prince déchu : Jeanne Mariem Corrèze tisse de nombreuses voix pour former sa tapisserie colorée et bouillonnante de vie, servie par une plume qui ne cesse de me transporter. Ce sont plus de 400 pages de pure poésie que renferme ce magnifique écrin aux tranches décorées.

Tous les âges, tous les genres, tous les parcours sont les bienvenus en Sarda, où la plus grande résistance est parfois plus de vivre et d’aimer que de se sacrifier pour la cause.

“Si l’incendie ravageait tout, s’il consumait Sarda jusqu’aux rivages de l’océan, ne faudrait-il pas, toujours, bercer les nourrissons, moucher les marmots, aimer ses amies et chanter des chansons, sous l’haleine brûlante de l’incendie?”

“Je sais que tu ne me crois pas. Mais j’ai toute confiance en toi, ma tendresse. Tu sauras faire face à tout ce que le monde attend de toi.”

Rep : multitude de personnages sur le spectre LGBTQIA+ et racisés.

In November, I’ve been hit by a wave of nostalgia for a book series I’ve sworn off since 2020. You probably know the one and I won’t elaborate. But then I listened to a podcast about magical school fantasy, and one participant mentioned the Worst Witch series by Jill Murphy, which is celebrating its 50th publication anniversary this year, and I couldn’t believe I’d never heard about it. Of course I rushed to the library because it thankfully had the first two volumes in French, and I ended up reading the first 5 in English. It had many items I was desperate for: a witchcraft school setting, a tight-knit friends group, magical mayhem, broomstick-flying lessons, teachers with very questionable work ethics, and cats. Sounds familiar? I highly recommend this series for some light-hearted, heart-healing magic. 

In November, I’ve been hit by a wave of nostalgia for a book series I’ve sworn off since 2020. You probably know the one and I won’t elaborate. But then I listened to a podcast about magical school fantasy, and one participant mentioned the Worst Witch series by Jill Murphy, which is celebrating its 50th publication anniversary this year, and I couldn’t believe I’d never heard about it. Of course I rushed to the library because it thankfully had the first two volumes in French, and I ended up reading the first 5 in English. It had many items I was desperate for: a witchcraft school setting, a tight-knit friends group, magical mayhem, broomstick-flying lessons, teachers with very questionable work ethics, and cats. Sounds familiar? I highly recommend this series for some light-hearted, heart-healing magic. 

In November, I’ve been hit by a wave of nostalgia for a book series I’ve sworn off since 2020. You probably know the one and I won’t elaborate. But then I listened to a podcast about magical school fantasy, and one participant mentioned the Worst Witch series by Jill Murphy, which is celebrating its 50th publication anniversary this year, and I couldn’t believe I’d never heard about it. Of course I rushed to the library because it thankfully had the first two volumes in French, and I ended up reading the first 5 in English. It had many items I was desperate for: a witchcraft school setting, a tight-knit friends group, magical mayhem, broomstick-flying lessons, teachers with very questionable work ethics, and cats. Sounds familiar? I highly recommend this series for some light-hearted, heart-healing magic. 

In November, I’ve been hit by a wave of nostalgia for a book series I’ve sworn off since 2020. You probably know the one and I won’t elaborate. But then I listened to a podcast about magical school fantasy, and one participant mentioned the Worst Witch series by Jill Murphy, which is celebrating its 50th publication anniversary this year, and I couldn’t believe I’d never heard about it. Of course I rushed to the library because it thankfully had the first two volumes in French, and I ended up reading the first 5 in English. It had many items I was desperate for: a witchcraft school setting, a tight-knit friends group, magical mayhem, broomstick-flying lessons, teachers with very questionable work ethics, and cats. Sounds familiar? I highly recommend this series for some light-hearted, heart-healing magic. 

In November, I’ve been hit by a wave of nostalgia for a book series I’ve sworn off since 2020. You probably know the one and I won’t elaborate. But then I listened to a podcast about magical school fantasy, and one participant mentioned the Worst Witch series by Jill Murphy, which is celebrating its 50th publication anniversary this year, and I couldn’t believe I’d never heard about it. Of course I rushed to the library because it thankfully had the first two volumes in French, and I ended up reading the first 5 in English. It had many items I was desperate for: a witchcraft school setting, a tight-knit friends group, magical mayhem, broomstick-flying lessons, teachers with very questionable work ethics, and cats. Sounds familiar? I highly recommend this series for some light-hearted, heart-healing magic. 

Geoffroy, lord de Love Hall est inconsolable depuis la disparition accidentelle de sa jeune sœur. Bien des années après le drame, il est l’héritier non marié de l’immense fortune de sa famille qui le presse à produire lui-même un héritier, ce pour quoi il ne ressent aucune motivation. Il semble que c’est le destin qui, juste avant son mariage, place sur sa route un bébé abandonné, que Geoffroy recueille et sur lequel il déverse tout l’amour qu’il porte à sa défunte sœur. Le bébé, forcément une fille dans l’esprit de Geoffroy, devient immédiatement la prunelle de ses yeux. Lorsque les membres de la maisonnée le découvrent, ils décident de ne pas révéler au père adoptif que son enfant est, selon eux, un garçon. Et c’est ainsi que la petite Rose grandit dans les couloirs sans fin de Love Hall.

La première fois que j’ai découvert ce livre, par hasard dans une librairie, j’ai tout de suite été attirée par sa couverture, puis par son pitch qui plaçait un personnage à l’identité de genre trouble dans un roman historique. J’ai fait quelques recherches sur l’auteur pour savoir s’il était lui-même concerné par les questions de genre, car je préfère privilégier les récits de première main, mais en vain. Et puis je suis retombée sur ce roman d’occasion, et j’ai décidé de le tenter. Les premières pages m’ont paru un peu longues car on est plongé dans le Londres de la fin du 18e siècle comme si on lisait un classique de l’époque victorienne. Ce qui est un des mérites du livre, mais pas forcément quelque chose qui m’attire, surtout sur 600 pages. Et puis on découvre Love Hall, les machinations de la maisonnée et l’enfance d’abord idyllique de Rose. Je me suis laissée entraîner dans cette histoire qui attisait franchement ma curiosité, car planait la question de la manière dont l’identité de genre de Rose allait se développer. Finalement, j’ai trouvé cet aspect de l’histoire particulièrement satisfaisant. Certes, je ne suis pas concernée par la question de la transidentité, donc il vaut mieux ne pas prendre mon avis pour argent comptant. Mais j’ai trouvé que l’auteur maniait le sujet avec sensibilité, et trouvait un équilibre très juste entre les mentalités de l’époque et la transgression amenée par le personnage. Rose passe évidemment par des épisodes de détresse et de dysphorie de genre intenses, mais le récit fait aussi place à ses succès et ses joies afin d’éviter tout misérabilisme. Sans divulguer l’évolution du récit, je dirais que ce roman n’est pas une tragédie mais se termine sur un élan d’optimisme.

Côté arrière-plan, j’ai apprécié la description historique faite de Londres et de sa campagne, et notamment de l’importance capitale de l’imprimerie et des chansons au sein de la société. L’auteur a clairement mené ses recherches, et inclut d’ailleurs une bibliographie à la fin de l’ouvrage (qui inclut un livre qui m’intrigue, “Autobiography of an Androgyne” de Ralph Werther, première autobiographie d’une personne transgenre publiée aux Etats-Unis en 1918!).

L’Infortunée n’est pas un roman parfait. Quelques détails m’ont fait grincer des dents (notamment une scène de s3xe importante pour le récit mais qui ne faisait aucun sens), mais je trouve que dans l’ensemble c’est un roman original et qui a l’immense bénéfice de rappeler que les personnes ne se conformant pas à la binarité de genre ont toujours existé.

Friends, reading Shakespeare is no joke. It’s been a while since I last tried, and I’d hoped to do better, but I think I understood about half of that play. Thankfully I already knew most of the plot. It’s not so much a question of vocabulary as one of syntax. I was glad, though, to encounter here and there famous quotes that were now in context.

I won’t stop trying to read Shakespeare, especially since next year I’m going to see The Tempest at the theatre and even though it’ll be in French, I want to reacquaint myself with the original (it’s been years since I first read it).

Tao is a fortune teller. She roams the kingdom with her faithful mule and cart and stops in villages to read tea leaves and palms. For a small fee she tells people about insignificant events that may or may not turn out to be important. Tao doesn’t deal in grand schemes and destiny-smattering omens. Those can often do more harm than good and may have been the reason why she fled her home in the first place. Tao is happy keeping her own company. Or is she ? When she finds unlikely travelling companions, life becomes that little bit sweeter, and burdens can be shared, even if that means confronting the reason why Tao is on the run.

This cosy fantasy novel is really lovely. It does tackle difficult themes like racism, but in a gentle manner. The cast of characters is very cute and the way the travellers become their own kind of family is very endearing to witness. This is very light fantasy, so you won’t get a ton of world-building and some elements will require you don’t look too closely, but I have absolutely no problem with that when the focus of the story is on feelings, specifically belonging and opening yourself to new possibilities. The narrative moves on at a steady pace, with an underlying tension that is alleviated by much baking and friendly chats. And a cat, of course. One chapter felt a little disjointed from the rest, but it was fun and let the characters demonstrate the full range of their personalities so I’m not mad about it.

I’ll just say the ending (for which the author all narrative arcs were tied with a neat bow) left me a little frustrated on Tao’s part, but that is spoiler territory so I won’t go into more details.

Rep: MC of Asian-inspired ancestry, who is also aro-ace coded. Hints of queer characters in a world that isn’t queer-friendly for the most part.

Viv has had enough of her career as a mercenary. She’s quite ready to spend more than a few days in the same place and live rather than survive. So when she buys an abandoned building in Thune and starts refurbishing it with the help of a friend, it all feels right. But are townspeople ready to accept her? After all, she’s an orc, a species not often found behind a counter. And what on earth is *coffee* anyway?

This book, which helped define cosy fantasy, is perfect. That’s it, thank you for reading my review.

To expand a little, I’d say there is a particular pleasure in a book that’s doing exactly what it sets out to do. This one is advertised on the cover as “High Fantasy. Low Stakes. Good Company”, as that’s exactly what you get inside, nothing less. This is the book to turn to when you need the literary equivalent to holding a cup filled with a warm beverage between your hands, maybe not as emotionally intense as some of Becky Chambers’ books can be but playing in the same category. I can see myself re-reading this one over the years to come, and I’m looking very much forward to the author’s other book, Bookshops & Bonedust.