So, the bad news is I have COVID again (Hat Trick). The good news is (a) COVID has never been too mean to me and (b) I’ll be posting to the blog a lot more this week! Starting with super-fast reviews of a bunch of books and audiobooks I cleared over the holidays:
Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi: I don’t like novels of manners, so I’m probably the wrong person to ask about this book. Ifemelu travels from Nigeria to the U.S. and back on a journey in which she learns to see herself as Black and contends with the consequences of that revelation. As with many NOM, the plot doesn’t budge for like 2/3rds of the book, spinning its wheels in flashbacks. I found Ifemelu narcissistic and largely unlikeable; meanwhile, according to the formula of this Jane Austin-y genre, I was supposed to root for her ending up with her married high-school boyfriend, which is a non-starter for somebody who was pretty recently on the losing side of a related equation. What can I say about the book that’s nice? The writing style is refreshingly unornamented, and I did learn a ton about Nigerian politics and social mores. There you go.
Hamnet, Maggie O’Farrell: I skimmed this pretty heavily. On the face of it, it’s an intriguing thought experiment about what might have happened to Shakespeare’s son Hamnet, who died at the age of 11 of Unknown Causes during a plague outbreak (so there’re your Causes, probably), and whose name becomes the title of his dad’s most emotionally wrenching tragedy (Hamlet/Hamnet were alternate pronunciations of the same name in Elizabethan times). But the poor little dude shuffles off his mortal coil in the first couple of chapters, leaving the rest of the book to wallow in post-mortem analysis, largely from the POV of Shakespeare’s functionally abandoned wife, Anne. O’Farrell’s writing style is lovely, but I just couldn’t get traction on this one. I think it might help to have kids to really pick up what the author is laying down in this meditation on art as an antidote to loss.
The Graveyard Book, Neil Gaiman: I always love Gaiman’s stories for younger readers because they’re not too dark. And I love the audio versions because Gaiman’s a *great* reader. In this case, the audiobook is a full-cast production narrated by Derek Jacobi (though Gaiman of course has a cameo–see if you can ID him!). It’s the story of a toddler whose family is murdered by a mysterious Jack of All Trades, escaping only by wandering into an old cemetery, where he is immediately adopted by the resident ghosts and taken under the wing of a enigmatic and powerful guardian named Silas. Nobody Owens, as the ghosts name the toddler, grows up in the safety of the graveyard, where he has all sorts of charming and chilling adventures. Inevitably, as he ages he finds himself drawn to the human world outside the iron gates, where, Silas has warned him, he cannot tread without rekindling the attention of the murderous Jacks. No-one I’ve read manages to draw menace the way Gaiman does, in such sparing and icy strokes. And yet the book is ultimately about the power of love and the stalwart protections of found family.
Strike the Zither, Joan He: This book had me from the blurb–a re-casting of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms in an alternate historical China where women hold the power as warlords, generals, and strategists. Even though the major plot points are already set by the classic text, which I read and loved in translation, I still found my interest piqued by He’s writing style–terse and dramatic, suiting her wartime subject–and her characters, who were nuanced and compelling, following in the tracks of their namesakes without falling into the ruts of caricature. Unfortunately, the plot executes a deus ex machina right in the middle and doesn’t stick the landing; the story never really regains its footing afterward. But the book was still good enough that I’m considering reading the second in the duology (but maybe reading rather than listening so I can skim over the moments when the plot spins its wheels).
And Break the Pretty Kings, Lena Jeong: Another alternate Asian historical fantasy, this one set in Korea in the period of strife between the Joseon and Silla dynasties. Jeong leans into the thin historical record on the Silla queens to flesh out a magical matriarchy complete with relics that hold the souls of previous queens until they need to be unleashed to save the queendom. The set-up of her story is ingenious as well–the traditional “stolen princess” trope turned on its head to present us with a kidnapped prince who must be saved by his younger sister, her motley band of allies, some of whom may not be as friendly as they pretend, and her equally volatile and dangerous Bone Magic. What the book does well is to subvert expectations and tropes. What it does badly is plotting and narrative continuity, which leaves gaps that Jeong has to barrel the reader across in a teeth-chattering rush to get to her destination–a ride not made any smoother by a writing style that ricochets between vivid description and tinny dialogue. Not sure I’ll pick up any further volumes in this series because I don’t really care what happens to any of the characters. But I do admire the way Jeong has extended tantalizing, sketchy lines in the records of Silla into a compelling and believable magical system.
The Lightning Tree, Patrick Rothfuss: A nice little novella, expanded from a short story, about a day in the life of one of my favorite characters from Rothfuss’s Kingkiller trilogy: Bast, a mischievous cat fiend from the fey realm, who due to a convoluted and tragic series of events, now tends bar out in the boondocks. The novella follows Bast on his day off as he fulfills wishes, steals things (including hearts), and ends up helping his nemesis get some justice and healing. Rothfuss wrote it for his kids, and it definitely has a dad vibe, but it’s a fun romp.
The Rookery 