Tag: Book Reviews

For the Love of Books #30

Approaching the end of February and taking a break from the UK rain, with a feast of worldbuilding in two epic fantasy recommendations… Enjoy.

The Wolf and the Water; by Josie Jaffrey

Big things come in small packages: an apt phrase for this modest-sized book that contains a world of extraordinary depth.

If you like detailed worlds, family sagas, crime, intrigue, and a protagonist to champion, then this is for you. I was rooting for the protagonist from the start, a young woman called Kala, considered doubly sullied by the powers that be: once for her father’s foreign birth, once by her disease that left her crippled. She is heir to the tribe of Glauks, in the city of Kepos, a walled city that borders the sea. Unknown to Kala there is a second, secret sea, and a forbidden pool where she goes to swim and feel free from the pains in her body.

When her father unexpectedly dies, everything changes. Kala’s mother must remarry, and proceedings are put in motion for marriage to a man, Nikos; a dangerous man not to be trusted. Left trying to find a place for herself in a newly ordered world, Kala looks for allies she can trust: Melissa, a girl brought to her as a companion, someone she grew up with and is close to; and Leon, Nikos’ son. Characterisation includes a complex love triangle further demonstrating Kala’s uniqueness and individuality.

Kala suspects poison was the weapon used to kill her father, and she vows to do whatever she must to determine the truth. It is a plight which takes her deep into the heart of this dangerous world built on complex tribal politics, headed by the Archon and a priesthood of hierophants. Forced to question her own foundations, there is self-discovery and family revelations, and a journey through this world and beyond, to ‘the edge of shadows’, the wall, warded by Acolytes to keep the dead where they belong.

“I think if I could just push my fingertips through the centre of my chest, I could pull my rib cage open like wings and let it all fly out of me.”

The narrative is as sharp as cut glass, appropriate for a story that demands attention. Based on a world inspired by Plato’s account of the island of Atlantis, prepare for a complex society, with dynamics and entanglements of a broad cast. This is the story of Kala, and her fight for the truth: who killed her father and why?

The Unspoken Name; by A.K. Larkwood

The Shrine of the Unspoken One is cut into the mountainside, looking out over the House of Silence nestled into the valley. There, fourteen-year-old Csorwe is raised to be the chosen bride, an innocent vessel through which the voice of the God can speak.

I loved the opening to this epic fantasy, which reminded me of Le Guin’s Tombs of Atuan, with its edgy, sinister world holding a girl hostage to a tragic fate. In The Unspoken Name, the story explores the spiritual and cultural depth controlling Csorwe’s life in the House of Silence, as she awaits a tragic fate: the day she will sacrifice herself at the Unspoken One’s shrine. But a month before that day, a stranger arrives seeking counsel for his quest: where is the Reliquary of Pentravesse?

According to the library of the House of Silence, it is an inadvisable quest, with all manner of ill consequences following in its wake. But the wizard Belthandros Sethennai finds the idea irresistible and prepares to head out. Although he will not go alone. On the day of Csorwe’s sacrifice, he waits in the shadows, tempting her to leave with him, and live. As he says, “The secret of greatness, is to know when you should risk the wrath of God.”  

So begins an unlikely adventure of a runaway and her new master, through inventive worlds delivered with magical description that brings to life an imaginative feast of worldbuilding, with vibrancy and colour supported by a wonderfully diverse cast. Csorwe is at the heart, on a journey of survival and self-discovery, adapting to her changing circumstances, transforming into a heroine of the free world.

What are you reading?

 

For the Love of Books #29

With cool blue skies and frost on the horizon, I’m warming up with a deep dive into SFF collections; short stories that spin the unexpected, pack a punch and make you think, all while flexing the bounds of imagination. I bring you two titles by two extraordinarily inspiring authors…

Danged Black Thing; by Eugen Bacon

Eugen Bacon is an exceptional writer and I was honoured to receive a review copy of Danged Black Thing ahead of its much-anticipated release. Traversing the west and Africa, this unique collection of shorts is both dreamlike and lyrical, while delivered with the sharpness of cut glass. It is speculative and mythical inexplicably wrapped in the mundane.

It begins with Simbiyu, amid the colours of forest laced with the sweet scent of crushed guavas and the intermittent whiff of soured yams. Childhood against a rural backdrop brought alive on the page is told in textured layers of family amid the brusque contrast of loss. A boy longing for the comfort of his once pillow-soft mother, forges his way in the world, winning a scholarship that will take him to Australia. But roots cannot be shaken, and while the heady colours of home are a welcome memory, shadows of the past tighten their embrace. When the story came to an end, I found myself wanting to stay, to know more of the character that had revealed worlds in just a few pages.

This is a remarkable collection of voices exploring migration, gender and class, patriarchy and womanhood; a collection that pushes the boundaries of creativity and science, delving into family, love and loss across time and space, speaking to the future with detailed imaginings of a landscape filled with warnings to heed, and questions about what it means to be human. And that is just the first two stories.

There are tales of revenge, aliens and fantastical beasts, explorations touching each phase of life, drawing on the power of ancestors, tradition, and vivid descriptions of both modern and fantastical worlds. The prose is soaked in truth, empathy and invention, transporting you deep into physical place and breathless mental imaginings. Each word leaves you hanging in this collection that feels like a colourful celebration of life, complete with flaws, scars, magic and beauty.

Bloodchild; by Octavia Butler

Bloodchild is an innovative collection of shorts, inventive parables to the contemporary world, small in size and huge in reach. In true Octavia Butler style, the protagonists are strong and complex, and the themes astute and challenging to the status quo. The collection begins with Bloodchild, the story of a colony of humans in an extrasolar world, forced to make startling accommodations with their hosts. A perfectly weird, unsettling and memorable story that asks the question, what would you be prepared to accommodate to pay the rent?

Another story, The Evening and the Morning and the Night, explores life with a disease that causes the sufferer to feel trapped and imprisoned within their own flesh. In a world with woefully inadequate institutions and devastating consequences, the question is raised: what can we do, what can we become, what are we in relation to undeniable genetics?

Rooted in the mundane, shining a light on the bleak, brought to life with inventive experimentation, the stories transcend through alien invasions that give a whole new meaning to community, moments of tenderness shining in an apocalypse, to the big question – what would you do if you met God? Plus two essays which give great insight into the author’s journey as a writer, and her resulting advice to those of us following in her footsteps. A thought-provoking read. Highly recommend.

What are you reading?

 

For the Love of Books #28

The last day of November, and we wake to a fine drizzle of snow. I imagine it will be fleeting, but it’s cold, and the perfect time to cosy up with a good read. I have two titles, inspired by the atmosphere that snow, mist, winter weather can bring. I’m not thinking jolly season’s greetings, more like the bleak atmosphere of separation, and unease. I’m late for Halloween, but the first title brings a malevolent spirit into a snowy scape…

Dark Matter: A Ghost Story; by Michelle Paver

Jack Miller never intended to join the Arctic mission, but despite himself he heads to the islands halfway between Norway and the Pole. The expedition team are to study Arctic Biology and ice dynamics, and carry out a meteorological survey. It’s a mission meant to last a year, but the Arctic wilderness has a dark history. Stories told from the time when the Arctic islands became part of Norway in 1925, tell of lethal accidents and marauding bears, men going mad from the dark and loneliness, shooting themselves, walking off cliffs for no reason. One expedition group in the early days refused to leave their cabin, out of terror of the deadness beyond, a terror reportedly not rooted in some phobic disorder. Now, the terrifying events in Gruhuken are about to be relived, and recorded in Jack’s diary, beginning 7th January 1937.

A malevolent spirit walks this icy wilderness, and the bleak surrounds provide a perfect backdrop. It’s easy to feel like prey in the face of polar bears with dirty brown pelts stained by blood and blubber, but not so easy to shake the feeling of being hunted. Dining on reindeer and an eclectic mix of tinned food, offers little comfort, and after a series of events, Jack finds himself alone except for the huskies. The rising feel of impending doom is well drawn, subtle and engaging in a foreboding environment, and Jack is soon left to consider whether writing will exorcise his demons, or whether speaking about it will just invoke them?  Either way, the spirit wants Gruhuken, and Jack Miller is standing in its way.

Central to the story is the question: Is it the dark people fear, or what lurks in it? It’s a question which drives the narrative, bringing an intriguing balance of unsettling apprehension, fated unease, and a lingering dread, teasing, tangible, yet never quite in reach.

The Fox; by Solveig Palsdottir

What do you do when your arrival means the world, when your presence is so symbolic, you simply must not leave?

Guogeir Fransson, hoping to put professional tragedy and personal turmoil behind him, leaves the Reykjavik police force for a dead end job in a small town in eastern Iceland. His detective instincts are triggered when a foreign woman arrives into this tight-knit community, and suddenly disappears soon after. The trail takes him to a remote farmhouse where an elderly woman and her son live with a sinister past.

Sajee, from Sri Lanka, arrives in Hofn to take up work in her aunt’s beauty salon. But it seems the job does not exist. Help from a friendly stranger takes her to the farm of Selma and her son, Isak. They offer board, lodgings and the promise of pay for cleaning and help around the place. It seems like a practical solution to Sajee’s problem, but it is an offer wrapped in mystery. Sajee’s vulnerability is clear. From Sri Lanka’s chaotic district of Colombo, growing up she was left alone with a violent father, finding sanctuary at the local beauty shop among cheerful women, until the shop was forced to close. Postcards from her aunt, who had travelled to Iceland before her, were the hope she had clung to. Now she was alone and illiterate in a strange land. And Selma’s eyes were watching, too closely. What familiarity did she see in the young woman that drew her so tightly? Was it Sajee’s cleft lip that she discretely attempted to conceal? Was it illusion?

The characters were well-drawn and entirely believable. The backdrop to the story is cloaked in mystery and folklore that I found completely compelling. The dead are in the family plot, but the hidden people, tall, dignified, with unlimited senses and a higher consciousness dwell in mountain cliffs. They help people in trouble, spirit problems away, but when wronged, revenge is bitter. Victims have been known to go up in a puff of smoke, or be driven mad. The farm skirts a harbour town where shipwrecks mean people are forced to watch husbands and brothers drown, a place of depression and alcoholism, where people go off the rails. As the layers of mystery unfold, I was absorbed by the world and the unexpected, unfurling of sinister events. A read made more chilling by its relatability, as we are taken down the path of unwittingly losing power; how our own insecurities can trap us, how trust can be fatal.

What are you reading?

 

For the Love of Books #27

Stopping by to share a love of books, and this time a look at fantastical creatures. There are so many great titles to choose from, but I’ve gone for three, each with a unique flavour…

The Mermaid of Black Conch; by Monique Roffey

In the Black Conch waters, one mile off Murder Bay, David Baptiste meets Aycayia:

“…long, long ago I don’t know the time, only that they called up a huracan, to take me far away, seal up my legs inside a tail.’

And from that day, whenever the leatherbacks arrive, he knows she will soon appear. No woman can compare to his mermaid, leaving a heart of sorrow to drown in a bottle of rum, while he finds the words to write the story down. She was an interruption in the middle of God’s act of creation, cursed by women to seal her sex inside a big tail, to keep her away from their men. And when the Americans caught her, David Baptiste is left feeling the sorrow of believing it was his fault.

Set on an imaginary Caribbean island, this is a wonderfully textured, layered read that pulls on all the senses. Tantalising in its entanglement of the mythical blended with visceral realism of everyday life. The place was brought to life, the love between man and mermaid felt as real a blackbird’s song, and the story arc weaving between past and present brought reflections of life’s loves, losses and desires into sharp focus. A lively, colourful, triumphant treat of a book. Needless to say, I adored it.

The Invisible Library; by Genevieve Cogman

The Invisible Library is a fun read, that overall has the feel of game playing within the realms of story-telling, with rules and payoffs to magic along the ride. The story stars Irene, a professional spy for the mysterious library, harvesting fiction from different realities. She is a character who is sure of herself, content and confident in her chosen profession, courageous in her various assignments to alternate worlds. The latest assignment is to an alternative London to retrieve a dangerous book, along with her assistant, Kai. But nothing is as it seems in chaotic alternate worlds.

I enjoyed the characterisation, and representation of an older woman unflinching in adventure, and courageous in the face of, well, anything. It was also a refreshing dynamic to see her play an older role model to the young man Kai. Fae creatures of chaos and magic await, an infestation of vampires, werewolves and technology working in weird ways, and Irene is soon on the run from gargoyles and hellhounds, only to stumble upon steampunk creatures to delight the imagination of any reader – creatures that also extend to the idea of the monster inside us. But what exactly is the sinister character laying in wait…?

Theoretical Dragon Anatomy; by Isabelle V. Busch

Is it true that dragons wholly belong in the mythical beast category, are they truly fictional, or are they formed from fragmented fact? Theoretical Dragon Anatomy is a biology manual, innovative in ecological thinking, problem solving, theorising, and containing intriguing and beautiful artwork to further illustrate the hugely absorbing information. With scutes and sensory pores shared with swimming alligators, wing structure akin to their pterosaur ancestors, a cardiovascular system resembling that of a bird, not to mention a digestive system with crops akin to their avian friends, and embryology that draws lines to lizards, snakes, chickens, crocodiles and bats… I can honestly say that dragons have never felt so familiar, a fact I have thoroughly enjoyed discovering. Oh, and did someone mention a flamme gland… yes, all wrapped up with some dragon pyrotechnics…

What are you reading?

For the Love of Books #26

If ever I needed a reminder of the heights of great worldbuilding, this collection, from one of our great SFF pioneers, Ursula Le Guin, offers a masterclass. Eight short stories and novellas bring us worlds near and far, those travelling between worlds, and shifting perspectives from outwards to inwards with thought-provoking poignancy.

The Birthday of the World; by Ursula Le Guin

To give you a sneak peek into the inner workings…

The Birthday of the World

The Birthday of the World is considered to be the time the sun stands over Mount Kanaghadwa, when people count themselves a year older, although the rituals and ceremonies are no longer remembered. In a society struggling with their concept of god, the narrator reflects on their own beliefs, rituals and ceremonies, layering a world where gods dance and die, and wild dragons fly. But with wars at the borders, lands have grown too large and the existence of God itself is threatened. The world must die so that God may live, and so the narrator is left pondering the identity of God itself.

Old Music and the Slave Women

Esdan, a chief intelligence officer, ends up on a clandestine mission during a civil war. Intercepted by government forces, he is imprisoned on a large slave estate, where his perspective becomes increasingly limited. In a brutal world, this is a story of survival, and hopeful endeavour in the coming revolution. Will the rebellion reach them? From humiliating violence, to muddy waters of human inequity in supposed liberation, to the failings of world construct to deliver utopia, it is in the bonds between slaves that kindness and comfort is found, and where the heart of the story lies.

Paradise Lost

On a multi-generational voyage to a potentially habitable planet, Liu Hsing and Nova Luis are members of the fifth generation born on the space ship. Many are excited by the idea of discovery, a planet to explore and send information back to the human species. But some people, especially the older generation, subscribe to the religion of Bliss – the state of a blissful journey, with no end. For them, Bliss is the only reason to stay alive. Liu and Nova are faced with followers of the religious cult who question if living on a planet is such a joy. There are also environmental themes, highlighting the challenge of making change, and the overall question of what is natural and what is not. An interesting read, fascinating in its construct, and thought-provoking in the themes of isolation, religion and utopia.

Solitude

Solitude is told by the narrator, as she reflects on her experiences growing up on Eleven-Soro. Her mother was an Observer, whose work involved settling among the native people of Eleven Soro, to learn about this complex alien world. Cultural differences between mother and daughter eventually drive them apart. Where the mother shuns the alien culture, the narrator adopts it as her own, wanting to grow her soul and experience what it means to be  a person of that culture. It is a theme reflective of generational confusion, complicated by outside influence. It is also an interesting use of perspective, approaching the culture of Eleven-Soro from a colonised mindset, yet entirely shifting perspective onto a young woman who becomes part of it. Cultural norms are highlighted, which require societies of modest population, driven by a desire for solitude and the social norm being introverts, perhaps essentially selecting for autism. In true style of Ursula Le Guin, subverted expectations are delivered with ease, which illuminate and surprise, in this creative and thought-provoking world.

The Matter of Seggri

Set in the dystopian society of Seggri, the story is written as a first contact report on the ship’s log of the Wandership. The captain describes a complex society which demonstrates gender as a social construct. Gender expectation is subverted and replaced with inventive roles. The impact of colonialism is also questioned, with consideration given to a society destabilised by outside contact. Previous colonial interference messed with chromosomes, which now results in there being sixteen women for every one man. In the present day, men have all the privilege and women have all the power. Given the opportunity, would men cling to their privileged status or demand freedom, and would women resist giving up their power? Would the sexual system break down?

Unchosen Love

In a world textured with colour, legend and mystery, a polygamous society is structured around family units called sedoretu. Hadri has been chosen to join one such family, after a man seeks out his affections. Homosexual and heterosexual coupling is commonplace, and various aspects of relationships are explored, including the more insidious coercive control.

‘Being unhappy in a room is worse than being unhappy outdoors.’

It is following one mysterious encounter that Hadri comes to realise his true feelings. It is a startling discovery, not least for himself, and brings with it a tantalising coming-of-age feel.

Mountain Ways

This story continues with the themes from Unchosen Love, with society structured around the same sedoretu units. Two women fall in love outside of convention, but over time they conform and strive to form a sedoretu. Through it we see the cost of compromise, the bitterness of conformity and restriction, a stark contrast to two previously independent souls. It was an intriguing and illuminating play on character, that also undoubtedly left a bitter taste. There was also an interesting interplay with the natural world, challenging the concept of ownership. I particularly enjoyed the portrayal of environmental equity.

Coming of Age in Karhide

Set on the fictional planet of Gethen, a place where adults have no fixed gender identity, the story follows Sov Thade Tage em Ereb, a teenager living in a large communal home in the Karhidish city of Rer. As Sov experiences biological changes, it is clear they are ready for kemmer, held in a communal Kemmerhouse for those sexually receptive. Any children conceived in the Kemmerhouse are raised in the communal home, the hearth. Sov and their friend, both ready for kemmer, express fears that being in kemmer is dehumanizing, being seen as a sex machine. And so Sov’s coming of age story is told, of changing bodies and sexuality that was utterly relatable, as well as a meaningful alternative look into gender identity in a place where, quite simply, love is love.

What are you reading?

For the Love of Books #25

Summer is here, the lavender is in bloom, and it’s the perfect time to cast away into imaginative landscapes anew. While I fine tune the layers of my third instalment of Blood Gift Chronicles, checking depth of sweeping landscapes filled with magic and colour, I smile to think of the times my work has been compared to Ursula Le Guin’s. Huge compliment, and she is of course a wonderful source of inspiration. And I’m also honing in on the characters, seeing them in my mind’s eye, carving out strengths they never knew they had.

I adore character arcs that surprise, illuminate, fill with dread and show possibility, the storylines that find new paths, reflect, inspect and seek out the poetry of humanity. While I continue on the path for my own story, this train of thought brought a wonderful title to mind, with characters I simply adore. Enjoy…

The Second Bell, by Gabriela Houston

The Second Bell is an intimate and heartfelt tale that had me captivated from the start. Set in an isolated mountainous community, we first meet Miriat, a woman faced with an impossible choice. She has a daughter named Salka, but Salka is no ordinary girl: she is a striga, a child born with two hearts, considered to be a dangerous demon. Salka’s fate is to be banished from the community and likely perish in the wilderness. But Miriat will not abandon her daughter and instead leaves with her, to face a life of hardship and deprivation. They reach a remote outcast village where previous strigas have gone before. It is a suspicious community with harsh self-imposed laws: it is forbidden for a striga to follow the impulses of their second heart; to do so faces the punishment of having their second heart burned out of their chest. For a mother like Miriat, the advice is simple: since an infant cannot be expected to have any self-control, ensure the other heart doesn’t have any reason to assert itself.

Miriat’s personal story arc is one I adored, demonstrating a mother’s unreserved and steadfast love for a daughter whose very existence is a fight for survival; a love uncompromising in its willingness to self-sacrifice. Immersive writing takes you deep into the heart of the community, where villagers share bonds of communal living and struggle, sacrifice and an uncompromising vision. An array of characters come to life on the page, with needs and desires, loyalties and betrayal, where seers are revered and the most indoctrinated hide secrets.

Fast forward years later and Salka is a young woman, still living with her mother in the village, and trying with all her might to adhere to the rules. She is taught self-loathing for a power that is integral to her, and to approach life with self-discipline that leaves no room for compassion. She is soon tested, and fails, and tested again, to the point she might break. And as the reader, I was rooting for her each step of the way, appalled and teased by a complicated community that enforce bleak truths and live out hypocrisies. Salka’s journey is one of courage and loyalty to integrity, compassion and truth, one that encourages the reader to reflect on what it means to be human, what it means to dare to embrace ourselves. A wonderful and unforgettable read.

What are you reading?

For the Love of Books #24

With summer upon us, I thought I would bring you some wonderfully inventive reads, colourful enough to add vibrancy to any sun-filled day. It’s a trilogy of novellas, bringing us Binti, a young woman from the Himba people, who reveals Namibia in a whole new light, treating us to an intimate glance of the rich traditions of this tribe: a desert people who wash with red clay and oils from flowers. Or at least it starts that way…

From an author intent on showing the magic of Africa through the magic of Africanfuturism.

Binti, by Nnedi Okorafor

Binti is the first of Namibia’s Himba people to be offered a place at Oomza University. But to take the place means defying her core traditions, leaving her family behind, and risking scandilizing her entire bloodline. Nevertheless, she heads out into the galaxy and into a world that incorporates biotechnology, with space ships possessing natural exoskeletons that could genetically enhance to grow breathing chambers. There is also an interesting fusion of fantasy: astrolade scanners that can see a person’s future; and strange, many-pointed artefacts called Edens, that no one knows the function of, just that it appears like art. It is one of the many ways in which this author’s work is often genre defying, and defining, with stories championing their own rules, paving the way for real innovation.

Binti is a skilful builder of astrolades and gifted as a harmonizer, but knowledge comes at a cost and the journey is far from easy. The Meduse are an alien race and long-term enemy of Oomza university, and now they are attacking her ship to devastating consequences. But our plucky heroine is grounded by the wisdom of her people, a tribe obsessed with innovation and technology, although as a general rule, they prefer to explore the universe by travelling inward.

Binti Home, by Nnedi Okorafor

Binti is returning home, after a year of study at the university, with her alien friend, Okwu. She is not the same girl and it is not certain that there will be a place for her among the tribes of her desert homeland. She has been suffering PTSD after what happened on the journey out – waking dreams and hallucinations – and has been seeing a therapist.  As she approaches home, she considers how she hasn’t told her family about her hair not being hair anymore, that it was now a series of tentacles resulting from Meduse genetics being introduced to her genetics. She was still coming to terms with the sensation, and could hide the truth when speaking with her family through the astrolabe, but in person she wouldn’t be able to hide the fact that her locks moved on their own.

Surprises await her at home, and while some of her tribe are resistant to Binti’s changed outlook, acquired through inter-solar travel, the truth cannot be denied: Binti has seen the Night Masquerade. And so the story is told, blending culture and tradition with the innovation of space travel and marvellous invention. I loved the Africanfuturistic vison, with solar power ingrained into homes, covered by bioluminescent plants growing on the outside, homes that are more like self-sustaining creatures than homes. Among the tribes of her homeland, Binti learns about the mysterious and ancient edan she wears, and she discovers more about her origin, among the undying trees of the desert.

Binti, The Night Masquerade, by Nnedi Okofafor

In this concluding part to the trilogy, Binti returns, with a heartfelt tale that makes you just love her even more. A war is coming, and together with her new friend, Mwinyi, Binti attempts to stop it. Prepare for a feast for the imagination in what feels like an explosive finale. I adored the narrative, each word alive on the page, bursting with colour and invention. And I loved the deep-dive into the desert hinterland and the mysteries of the tribes. While Binti’s truths are layered in visions brought on by the alien zinariya, humanity and alien once again merge, taking us on a cascading journey of glorious technicolour. As Neil Gaiman says, ‘Prepare to fall in love with Binti.’

What are you reading?

For the Love of Books #23

Spring in the UK, from heavy rain to glorious sunshine, fading daffodils to colourful tulips; the unpredictability of changing seasons brings its own kind of magic. And so I’m stopping by with two recommendations of stories with magic in recognisable worlds.

The Iron Brooch by Yvonne Hendrie

In 1940s London, seventeen-year-old Brigid chooses an iron brooch, a family trinket, as her ‘something old’ to wear on her wedding day. But the heirloom is more mysterious than she could have imagined: through it she receives bird-like visions of Scotland’s Doon Hill in Aberfoyle, the place of her father’s homeland. Pregnancy forces Brigid to leave her family home and head to London to find lodgings, but the visions grow stronger, leading Brigid right out of 1940s time, for a while.

So begins the magical dual-timeline novel, connecting 1940s London inextricably with 1690s Scotland, and the story of Robert Kirk, searching for his lost love in realms beyond this world. It is around the time of the festival of Beltane when the veil grows thin, revealing fae sightings and dangerous magic from a wholly mysterious race. Robert’s heartfelt search leads to research and a resulting manuscript, ‘The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies,’ by Robert Kirk, a book Brigid grew up reading.

I was absorbed by Brigid’s story from the first, moved by her struggles of grief and pregnancy, and rooting for her as she is forced to navigate the world alone. And as she increasingly sees through the veil, I was utterly captivated by the depth into which the author delves into the preternatural, while expertly grounding us into the real. It is a truly spellbinding tale so tightly woven, that for a moment at least, you question the flickering haze in the corner of your eye.

A Master of Djinn by P.Djeli Clark

The year is 1912, and Lord Worthington oversees the gathering of a secret brotherhood, established to uncover the wisdom of Al-Jahiz, the disappeared Soudanese mystic. The world sits at a precipice, man’s ability to create has exceeded his ability to understand, leaving dangerous forces at play. A masked man arrives, claiming to be Al-Jahiz, and slaying the Brotherhood with powerful magic.

Meanwhile, Fatma is puffing on her hookah. Enchanted massel is a banned substance, but Fatma is practised at sorcery, skilled in conjuring the smoke. While surrounding deals are made over discovered antique bottles, Fatma produces her badge which states she is with the ministry, an organisation charged with creating balance between the mystical and the mundane. When a eunuch arrives with a message for Fatma, she heads off to Giza to investigate the supernatural crime at Lord Worthington’s house. Twenty-four people are dead, burned by fire, though there are no signs of a fire. Abigail, Lord Worthington’s daughter, saw a masked man in the house, but otherwise the identity is a mystery. And so begins a detective investigation by Fatma, her new partner, Agent Hadia, and her old love, Siti.

A magical read, founded on the old Gods entombed beneath the earth of Egypt in colossal sarcophagi, like the Pharoahs of old. And among the hum drum life of Egypt’s streets, alive with tantalising description and compelling narrative, there are men in gold masks, ghuls, beings of flames called Ifrits, and elemental djinns with ephemeral bodies as transparent as sheer fabric. Among city riots, the investigation is brought alive by the central relationship between Fatma and Siti, two women, or a woman and a djinn? And as momentum gains pace, the characters deepen, exploring identity, exploitation, oppression and magic, bringing to life the humanity of magical beings.

What are you reading?

For the Love of Books #22

Approaching the end of LGBTQ+ history month here in the UK, and I thought I would share two SFF titles, if not for historical relevance, for the significance of representation. Sci-fi has often been seen as ahead of the curve in breaking barriers, and across the genres, marginalised voices are coming to the fore.

The Four Profound Weaves; by R.B. Lemberg

The first of the four profound weaves is woven from wind to signify change, invisible threads woven into whispered weaves, spun from a captured wind and revealing hints pf pink and silver desert hues. This type of descriptive narrative flows throughout this magical novella, with tantalising magic woven from the surrounds, almost plain to see but impossible to catch – just like a magic carpet, which was one of the reasons I was drawn to this book.

The story begins with Uiziya, sitting in her goatskin tent waiting for the return of her exiled Aunt Benesret. Her weaves cannot compare to Benesret’s, whose expert fingers could weave even from bones. Uiziya’s lessons of the Four Profound Weaves are unfinished, and still she waits to inherit her aunt’s loom, waiting to learn the weave of death. It’s a weave that involves an actual death. Benesret previously killed Uiziya’s husband for the sake of the weave. It was the reason Benesret was banished, because she killed. Nevertheless, it is a weave Uiziya must learn, since she is destined to become a great weaver of the Four Profound Weaves, one who would bring the gods themselves to her bidding.

Uiziya’s search for Benesret coincides with the Nameless Man’s search for his name. It is three months since the Nameless Man’s transformation at the ceremony of change, but his people, the Khana, don’t recognise transformed people, instead insisting that the shape of one’s body determines one’s fate. Uiziya is also a changer, since after weaving her cloth, the sandbirds came to her.

This is a brooding tale against a colourful backdrop, incorporating thought-provoking contemporary discussion of gender identity and transitioning. The Nameless Man ponders the social impact of his transformation: all his life he had been a lover, trader, and reluctant grandmother who cared for their grandchildren. Now he was a grandfather. But in his culture, grandchildren never saw their grandfathers. It is insight like this that gives real depth to character, narrative and backdrop. Fantasy woven alongside these personal journeys of transformation, reveal the challenges of surrounding microaggressions designed to undermine an identity to uphold another. I loved the simple statement given in one response to tireless questioning of a person’s identity: ‘This is what feels right to me.’

Thought-provoking themes set against an imaginative world called Birdverse, described with magical lyricism that is a feast for the senses, makes for a truly memorable story.

Gideon the Ninth; by Tamsin Muir

Enter the world of lesbian necromancers…

Gideon lives on a remote planet, home to both the stronghold of the House of the Ninth, and a tiny prison used for criminals whose crimes are so repugnant, they cannot be rehabilitated in their own houses. The Ninth House is an enormous hole cracked vertically into the planet’s core, and the prison is a bubble installation set halfway up into the atmosphere. Gideon first arrived when her mother mysteriously appeared, falling down the planetary shaft. Gideon, just one year old at the time, survived the fall. She was chipped, surnamed and put into the nursery. By age five they knew that she was not a necromancer, and by eight that she would never be a nun. By ten they knew she knew too much and could never be allowed to leave. By the time she is eighteen, Gideon has attempted to run away eighty-six times. The alternative would be to die in this dark netherworld, which would only be the beginning.

On the tenth thousand year of the King of the Undying, Prince of Death, Gideon makes another attempt, only to be thwarted by the Lady of the Ninth House, Reverend Daughter Harrowhawk. Harrowhawk has her own plans for Gideon: for Gideon to become cavalier primary of the House of the Ninth. Serving Harrowhawk may not be Gideon’s idea of a good time, but it’s the only way to leave. But what will she be leaving for?

Welcome to an inventive and ghoulish world, where mysterious tendrils lie in wait to ensnare and crush the life out of those still living; a labyrinth of death, bones, panic, quest and mayhem. Disorganised chaos is punctuated with sarcastic, sadistic and mysterious notes that speak to the reader as much to the characters, tempting you to turn the page and delve further into this Alice in Wonderland-esque creepy maze. Magically weird, dark worldbuilding, with lively narrative and well-scripted dialogue brings to life the humanity of necromancers.

What are you reading?

 

For the Love of Books #21

2023 so far has been filled with some magical reads. As writers we look for those layers to encapsulate and bring to life the essence of characters, cultures, worlds… and two titles stand out, for their intrinsic connection with music, that adds depth in a way that is difficult to define, because it’s as omnipresent as culture in stories masterfully woven.

Nine Bar Blues, by Sheree Renee Thomas

Nine Bar Blues is an extraordinary collection of evocative tales, rich, layered and textured with magic that haunts, uplifts and ascends any bounds of expectation. With prose that sings and muse that flies through the pages, I was hanging onto every word that guided me deeper into the authors layered imaginings and startling observations. From curse-bound sisterhood journeying to the source of ancestry, through poisoned landscapes of an other-worldly earth, to golden mermaids, tales are woven with musical renditions that move with the rhythm of cultural change, alive with the sounds of souls.

This is magic and fantasy rooted in the real; snapshots of life as sharp as cut glass that stop you in your tracks and make you lose your breath for a long pause. From contemporary social justice concerns, and words that carry the weight of history in finely-drawn prose, this collection speaks truth to the abuse of power, truths that sing to slave songs, lost souls, and the blues. An inspiring and masterfully woven collection.

Songspinners, by Sarah Ash

Orial works with her father, Dr Magelonne, in the Sanatorium of the spa city of Sulien. She is close to her father, more so since her mother, Iridial, died. Iridial had lived and breathed music, and now Dr Magelonne forbids music, since it provokes memories too painful to endure. But, like her mother, music flows from Orial like water. Only in the Undercity, at her mother’s shrine, can she practice the art that she has taught herself. But there she experiences strange visions in a waking dream – the searing pain of burning flames.

The underground labyrinth of the Undercity was built by ancient builders, the Lifhendil, commonly known as Songspinners in modern-day Sulien. Their artwork is still displayed on the Undercity’s walls, but their beliefs and language are lost, save for fairy stories and folk tale. This mysterious race possessed a unique trait – multi-coloured irises, which Orial and her mother shared. And as the world unfolds, revealing the depth of Orial’s gift, wonder, intrigue and danger merge.

In the Undercity, Orial is approached by refugees from Bel’Esstar, fleeing persecution from the Commanderie. One of the refugees, Amaru Khassian, is a composer, whose hands have been badly burned, injuries so severe, he won’t regain the use of his hands. A strange and unique connection exists between Orial and Khassian, one that makes clear to Orial that she simply must have music in her life, whilst for Khassian, a dangerous chain of events are triggered. Their personal music describes their uniqueness, and their contrasting and connected plights: Orial’s as darting and bright as a dragonfly’s flight; Khassian’s with despair and madness fuelled by ego.

This is an evocative, beautifully drawn world. I adored the magic, memorable, tangible, yet delightfully just beyond our reach, with tales of musical telepathy, faeries and dragonflies, and mystical reservoirs. Orial’s character was utterly captivating from the start, a thoughtful, determined, empathic young woman, and utterly intriguing in her magic as the story unfolds like an orchestral song. And as tensions run high in this complex world, the question remains, will Orial succumb to madness?

What are you reading?