I'm just writing a note to myself here, rather than an actual review. It's Wodehouse! Of course it's a 5 star delight.

This is the one were Aunt Dahlia, Bertie's favorite aunt with a loud voice, bets everything on a horse race, and the horse is friends with a cat. Major Plank also has a bonk on his head and only vaguely remembers Alpine Joe. The pair of lovers are inconsiderate of Bertie's living space. There is much giggling.

After enjoying the first two books in the Harper Hall series, my partner and I were very excited to listen to the audiobook of the finale. Unfortunately, Dragondrums didn't live up to the standards set by its predecessors.

When Piemur hits puberty, life, as he's known it, is over. His beautiful tenor voice is full of cracks, and his apprenticeship to the Master of Voice is at an end. He turns to his friend Menolly for comfort. She offers a startlingly proposition: a secret apprenticeship to Master Robinton, who, if Piemur can prove himself, will induct Piemur into a fledgling initiative to make Harpers world-class spies and information gatherers. An overjoyed Piemur agrees and is placed undercover as apprentice to Drummaster Olodkey. This joy is brief, however, as intense bullying and a brewing plot of the Old Timers loom over the horizon.

Dragondrums was an in-between book for an in-between series. The two plotlines didn't mesh together well. For the school plot of Piemur's time learning drums, it seemed like McCaffrey struggled to find an organic source of conflict. In Menolly's stories, Piemur seemed universally beloved and, as a man, doesn't have to combat misogyny. The bullying seemed to come from nowhere and raised some serious, disturbing questions about the culture of Harper Hall. Even when the bullies are defeated, the questions linger, and it seems inevitable that the intense violence and abuse will happen again.

As for the larger geopolitical plot, Piemur was mostly shunted to the side, and it didn't quite become (or revert?) to Menolly's story either. We miss out on huge swathes of her journey towards being a confident young woman and Harper. I was never sure what information would be relevant. Since Harper Hall is my first series, I paused the audiobook a lot to ask Girlfriend who and what the Old-Timers are, and why everyone is worried about them.

Girlfriend had mentioned that McCaffrey's gender politics become gnarled, and here I found evidence. The age gaps in romance become quite wide, of dubious consent, and pseudo-incestuous(???). Spoiler under the cut.

It's not stated what Menolly's exact age is, but I assumed around 18. During Dragonsong, I assumed Sebell was at least a decade older. It felt extremely odd for someone in their late 20s /early 30s to be interested in a teenager. In addition, when they do boink, it's under the influence of their fire lizards' mating flights. I thought this situation was fine and dandy--even extra erotic--until Sebell says, "I didn't want it to be like this." Is this...not what he wants? Shouldn't they stop then? Like hello? Jump in the ice-cold ocean and stay there if you need to avoid being horny that badly. There are many ways out of boinking. In addition, both Menolly and Sebell express interest in Robinton. Both bemoan Robinton's obliviousness to romance and the age gap, as Robinton is in his 60s. There's also the matter that Robinton is Sebell's adopted father. There's a bizarre sense that Sebell and Menolly are settling for each other, since they can't boink Robinton.

Overall, I still want to read Dragonriders of Pern. McCaffrey isn't always this confusing of a mess. Other stories will have more explanations.

As always, a giggle-inducing delight!

For my own reference, this is the one where Bertie is christened Alpine Joe after being induced to try to "sell" the black statue to Professor Plank, Madeline and the Newt boi find their true love, Stiffy and Pinker FINALLY get a rectory (due to rugby ability).

I devoured the last two books of the Victorian Trilogy so quickly that I decided to review them together. What a journey!

After her initiation into the night society of London and saving her mother from Mithras' jaws, Regina and Victoria follow Emma's trail to Paris, and, later, Vienna. Paris is haunted by the spectators of Victoria's past. Among the rash of vampire huntings and court politics, one French Nosferatu has the answers, but they come at a price: get her ghouled lover out of the Santé prison. The prison is the domain of a certain Malkavian Anatole, who preaches a seductive salvation. Nevertheless, Regina busts the ghoul out, and Victoria and Regina head to Vienna, the heart of House Tremere. Victoria does several unforgivable acts. Other, more sinister figures (and one incredibly romantic figure) are after Emma. The Tremere are plotting something daring and stupid. Emma has her own plans, and desires.

As fun as all that sounds, The Madness of Priests and The Wounded King suffer. Boulle has too many plotlines, like too many plates of spaghetti spinning in the air. They give each one equal weight, to the point that the bloated chapters of The Wounded King were basically sectioned off updates of each one. Not all the plots were as interesting or added equal impact to the story. For example, the first 50 pages of The Madness of Priests follows Emma's ex-husband Lord James Blake and Regina's betrothed Malcolm Seward, as the pair murder, torture, and burn their way through London on their partners' trail. The thematic weight here was in the reversal. Traditionally, these white, upper class, and cishet men would be the gallant heroes saving their damsels in distress. Boulle reverses it so they are, in fact, some of the most monstrous characters in the story. Lord Blake and Malcolm work with vampire hunters, and the moment Regina or Emma fell into their clutches, they would die. This message got across in the first 5 pages, and I had to slog through 45 more to arrive at the interesting part of the narrative with Regina in Paris.

Part of it might be the nature of adaptation, or some corporate demand meddled. It reminded me in lore books when they're introducing potential scenarios to Storytellers: a bunch of characters and politics are thrown at the wall like spaghetti noodles, and the Storyteller can choose what sticks. That's fine for a lore book, but doesn't do so well in the constrained, defined world of a novel. The Tremere Bainbridge and Wellig sniping at each other; the Jack the Ripper distraction; Juliet Parr's asylum: these did not earn their page count.

The price of all the extra fat was especially evident in the lost opportunities. The half-baked theme of salvation and redemption from The Madness of Priests came home to roost. I could have read a whole chapter of Emma and Beckett sitting in the dark, discussing it, defining it, debating it. We get a couple paragraphs, the concept remains fuzzy, and Emma's decision in the final chapter feels inorganic and forced. Regina is upset in the way Victoria deals with Lord Blake, but she never acknowledges her father's intended murder and colonialist corruption, even though, by all logic, she should know about it. After following Regina's journey for two novels, Beckett neither has an on page talk with Regina, nor alludes to how Regina was involved in burning down his boyfriend Anatole's haven.

Most galling, the climax and ending itself:

I couldn't believe we weren't privy to howst the fucketh Regina convinced everyone to face Wellig. How did she form the most bizarre coterie of a feral bisexual nerd, a refined and respected scholar, an antediluvian, a neonate with a blood relationship to two of the most powerful people on the continent, a dumpster fire of a Toreador, and femme vampire Sherlock Holmes?? Like, I was internally screaming the whole time of wait, what is y'all's plan? Are you just letting Emma walk in some cursed circles?? Are Hesha and Halim still under a spell at the end? Did Beckett confess his love??? Where is the scene where he introduces Emma to Aristotle, because I know it exists, but where is it??

While I was disappointed with the Trilogy, it's still head and shoulders above other White Wolf publications. I did have fun. I know an almost uncomfortable amount about Beckett. I would like many fanfictions please. I choose to believe that Boulle did their best with an overwhelming amount of material and a highly restricted page count. I still think this is a good starter series for beginners. Now onto the Diary.

While scrolling through the library's available audiobook selections, Upright Women Wanted popped up all queer and colorful. There is little that could appeal to me more, as a reader, than queer librarians fighting fascists.

Esther needs to escape. After her secret girlfriend is hanged for possession of illegal materials, Esther knows something has to change. She can't marry her misogynistic betrothed. She can't seem to change her attraction to women. The only option she finds is to run away with the librarians, who are moral women who travel the Southwest region to deliver approved educational materials to the masses. They will be able to "fix" her, Esther thinks, as she unknowingly hitches a ride with the only people in the country who will understand and love her. Out in the desert, Esther will find family and a reason to fight.

Overall, Upright Women Wanted is a treat. Esther slowly unwinds her internalized homophobia, and her budding romance with the callused, enby Cye is super cute. As this Tor.com review notes, the larger world is sketched in broadstroke with tropes and buzzwords like "the State," "eternal war," "rations," "so we all think the same," and "flags." The more intense focus is on Esther's internal journey of self-acceptance. It was an unexpected delight that no one handed her the answers, only showed her the directions. She had to do her own dismantlement.

Other reviews have noted the stellar metaphors and similes, and I agree in broad terms. However, sometimes the referenced or in-scene homophobia and violence against LGBTQ people became too much for me. Sarah Gailey is part of the community, so I know the writing isn't coming from a place of glorification. It made sense that Esther's mind would return to the trauma of her partner's death over and over. Yet I needed to pause and scream. Esther's thoughts during the story's climax were a study in whiplash: equal parts horror, redemption, trauma, pride, grounded, and far-flung.

Reading Upright Women Wanted made me realize that I haven't given the Western genre a proper chance. The advertised tropes of stoic men indulging in genocide, misogyny, and colonialism hold little appeal. But stories like this, with queer people of color kicking butt and repairing books? That I could get behind.