The Shadowed Sun

The Killing Moon gives us a really beautiful mentor/apprentice relationship in Ehiru and Nijiri. It isn’t a relationship that is explored as often as I’d like in main through-lines of fantasy, probably because the Hero’s Journey format is more about a mentor who comes and goes as needed, or different characters filling different mentor-like roles at different times.

Jemisin, however, hits on the best possible dynamic of a mentor/apprentice relationship. Love and respect, as a motivation for success in their trade.

I think often about how I wanted to please my elders when I was young. There’s still a big part of me that wants to do that as an adult. It’s a major factor to contend with in my life, and I see it so rarely in the fantasy I read. The heroes/heroines are orphaned, or perversely independent by nature, or trying to prove themselves to themselves, not to anyone else. I’m not sure why that is, unless you look at Disney’s track record and believe that introducing parents to the mix just makes things way too complicated for a nice compact story. I think any therapist anywhere would agree with that.

So I really loved, in The Shadowed Sun, how Jemisin weaves the mentor/apprentice relationship into the plot. It is integral to it, but doesn’t completely define the protagonist. Hanani has her own motivations, her own need to prove herself as the only female in her healing trade, but her relationship with her mentor also moves the plot forward, and offers twists and motivations that are deep, rich, and beautifully crafted to give us the full in-depth treatment of Hanani’s heart.

Wanahomen, sort of a co-protagonist, is interesting as well. He is also driven by a motivation to please an elder–his father, who died in the first book. This makes Wanahomen’s character complex, and accounts for the very realistic mistakes he makes that help drive the plot. I think I might have liked him a lot less if he was as dismissive of women as the barbarian tribe that he has been living with–but his reverance for women in accordance with his birth culture saved me from that.

Ultimately Hanani and Wanahomen’s stories are woven together in a beautiful pattern of pride, passion, grief, and growth. The ending is satisfying in a realistic way, and feels germane to the characters. I’m eager to read Jemisin’s Inheritance Trilogy, after having enjoyed the Dreamblood Duology so much. I highly recommend these to anyone who enjoys fantasy and is looking for more than the usual, tired old tropes.

The Killing Moon

There’s a lot of beauty in this book. I haven’t read Jemisin’s Inheritance trilogy yet (I’m borrowing it from my cousin later this summer), but her writing flows. There’s grace in it, in the way she describes the settings and the mannerisms of the characters.

I really admire when an author can jump right into a story without doing too much infodumping. So often you can tell you’re in the beginning of a story because there’s so much explanation of this and that. But good writers just jump right in, because it’s an entire world that exists for them, not just something that springs into being on page one and disappears after the last sentence. The worlds contained in these stories are not finite—they have history and the character was alive and awake and doing things the day before the story started, too. Jemisin gets that.

Nijiri is a wonderful character. Ehiru and Sunandi are great, too, but the majority of my love for this book comes from Nijiri. He’s willful and prideful and young but never quite naive. He feels things purely. His emotions bring out the best responses and reactions in the other characters. He drives everything, even though things happening in the plot seem to be happening to other people or by other people’s design. He’s a joy to read.

In depth and richness of cultural and religious background, Jemisin’s world in this book reminds me of Jacqueline Carey’s world in the Kushiel’s Legacy series. Even the way she throws out the limiting frivolity of labeling people’s sexual preferences reminds me of Carey. You don’t have to call someone gay or bisexual or heterosexual when love and sex are not culturally restricted. I wish I didn’t feel like that was such a cool thing—because it means we’re so far from throwing out those labels in our own society. But it’s nice to escape to places where no one questions or cares or limits things. Attraction is attraction, love is love, sex is sex.

All that said, there aren’t actually any sex scenes in this book. I don’t want to mislead by talking about it so much. 🙂

There’s political intrigue, a fascinating system of magic that’s entwined with healing and dreaming, all set in a rich cultural system modeled on that of the ancient Egyptians. Jemisin’s writing is deep and thoughtful and exciting. This one is an excellent choice for lovers of fantasy fiction.

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

The trailer for Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children looks pretty good. The first time I saw it I got excited about the look of the hollowghasts (the baddies). They look so much like a favorite artist of mine’s style that I actually turned to my husband and said, “I wonder if Brom was the concept artist for those?” And before I see the movie, I wanted to read the book.

I was expecting something fairly light and whimsical, even with the scary look of the hollowghasts. So when the book started in modern times and was obviously going to be about a rebellious male teenager, that took me by surprise. I don’t know if it makes any sense, but this book feels like you’re reading in black and white. In a good way. Once you start getting into the action of it, you get lost in the feel of the desolate, remote locations and the slipstreams through time.

I can’t say any of the characters were particular favorites of mine. They’re all intriguing in their own ways, and the disparity of what makes them peculiar is clever and engaging. They feel unmoored from time, though, and as if they are pretending that Jacob is really his grandfather, which feels strange.

There’s a sort of unreality to all of it—a tilt that makes everything peculiar. For me, that also meant I felt slightly distant from the characters and action—but I was definitely intrigued enough to keep reading.

As far as the photographs go, which were apparently Riggs’ inspiration for a lot of the characters, I can’t say they added much to the story for me. But then, I’m not a photography buff, nor am I into historical items like old photographs. Mostly I think they just contributed to the feel of the oldness of everything.

Ultimately I am interested enough to want to read the second and third books, but not quite to the point where I had to rush out and buy them so that I could find out what happens next.

Writing with a New Baby

Babies sleep a lot. Except, it seems, when you want them to. My daughter will sleep in the car on the way to the grocery store, in the stroller the whole time we’re at the grocery store, and then for about two minutes after we get home. Which is just enough time to put away half of the groceries—the perishables, basically. Does she sleep at night? Sometimes. Does she sleep for long stretches of time? Sometimes.

The problem I didn’t think about before she was born is that whenever she’s asleep when we’re at home, I want to be sleeping, too. Or cooking, so that I can sate the ravenous hunger of a nursing mother. Or cleaning, so that all the burp cloths around the house get into the hamper before we do laundry again. Add in a full-time work schedule (which also adds: time spent cleaning breast pump parts + commute + putting on non-pajama clothes and brushing my hair + cooking/packing a lunch to bring + frustrating blocks of time where I have to beg her to wake up to feed before I leave in the morning…)—basically my time for writing has disappeared. Does this mean I can’t ever have a stolen minute or two to write? No. She’s on my lap right now squirming and I’m typing away. We just won’t mention that time she spit up onto my laptop keyboard, or how uncomfortable it is to lean at this awkward angle so that I can reach the keys with both hands and still keep her from falling off.

It’s frustrating, actually, how many minutes you recognize as “Oh, I could have been writing” minutes just as your little one begins to wake up and need you again. Supposedly breastfeeding even gets easier eventually, but at three months old it’s still pretty necessary for me to hold my boob in place for her, so she isn’t slipping off or smooshing her nose into it until she can’t breathe. Ever try to type with just one hand? I could probably get good at it eventually, but by the time I did she’ll have outgrown this phase and it won’t be necessary.

The point, really, is that even with the eight weeks of maternity leave, even with the naps she takes, even though she can’t talk yet and is only starting to be vaguely interested in toys—something always comes up. Writing always gets bumped down the list. It’s easy enough to do the dishes when you’re out of forks and the breast pump parts need to be clean again by tomorrow. Not so easy to put off those dishes and just write.

(Also, Netflix is evil. You sit down to nurse and you think, “I don’t want to type away super slowly with only one hand while I do this…” and so you turn on Netflix. Except an episode of Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Is 45 minutes long, and you aren’t going to stop it halfway through just because baby girl is done eating. Even worse? Finding out you have HBO Go access through your in-laws cable subscription and finding 20 movies you’d love to watch…)

I thought, before I had her, that I would find plenty of time to write. It seemed inevitable. I would be healthy and whole again, after a very ill, soul-wrecking pregnancy. I failed to calculate all the extra minutes spent folding and unfolding that stroller, taking her for walks so she can see the world, staring at her cute face and talking to her to make her smile. They’re essential, all these extra moments. Even the hour you have to spend walking her up and down the hallway, bouncing her a little in your arms, while she fights off sleep because she just doesn’t wanna. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Truly. It’s just a sad consequence that I can’t write as much as I’d like to. I miss it, and sometimes that makes me really sad. She’s worth the trade-off, for sure. And yet…

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up

The KonMari method of tidying/organizing blew up across the internet. I was hearing about the book and the method everywhere. It seemed like the people reviewing it were giving away the biggest secret, so I didn’t really see a point in reading it myself. Until my sister started reading it and revolutionized her closet and her home office. It isn’t that my sister was a messy person, before. They had about the same level of clutter in their house as my husband and I do. But the way she talked about cleaning out her closet of the clothes that didn’t bring her joy, and the pictures of her office when she’d started purging and cleaning and crafting it into a new, bright, comfortable space… It was enough to convince me, and I checked out the book on Overdrive.

It took me a little while to get through, partly because I was taking care of a newborn, but also partly because there isn’t much through-story to make it a page-turner. The sections are short enough that they aren’t tedious, but it’s still easy to put it down in between chapters.

The chapter on folding? I probably could have done without. It’s an interesting concept, but honestly, I don’t need a special way to fold clothes when I’ve managed to purge so many that I can see everything in my drawer easily.

That’s the big draw of this book, I think. The purging of stuff is laid out in a simple plan, with very strict rules, and man do they make sense. Only keep that which brings you joy. Nostalgia doesn’t even count as “joy” all the time, so you end up getting rid of a lot of things that “remind you of” something but that aren’t seeing any use. There was a lot of cheeky, corny stuff in the book, including the concept of talking to your possessions. But some of it was great, like going through a stack of greeting cards from friends and family, thanking the card for the message it brought you, and then throwing it away. I’ve got two whole boxes of cards that I need to do that with, which have been weighing on my mind since I finished reading this book.

We didn’t do a huge purge in the KonMari style, mostly because we’d already done a big “before-the-baby-comes” purge. We made room for all the baby stuff which now makes my house feel cluttered again. But there are some small areas where I could stand to purge more—jewelry, for one thing. You buy a nice big jewelry box to keep everything organized and you just end up accumulating a ton of stuff you don’t ever wear. Likewise with a cool rotating earring tree. I wear maybe 5 or 6 pairs on the regular. Why do I need 20+?

I wouldn’t say it’s entirely necessary to go out and buy this book—I didn’t, after all. But there’s some handy information in it, and if you ever find yourself stuck in that loop of having too much stuff, donating a bunch of it, then accumulating more stuff that you then also donate…this book can help. My shopping habits are vastly different now. I think about whether something brings me actual joy BEFORE I purchase it, which cuts down on the general clutter in the house.

The best time of year for de-cluttering and deep cleaning is of course between Imbolg and Ostara. It’s time to wipe away winter’s cobwebs and usher the light back in. That coincided perfectly with when our little one was due, so we got a lot done. I can’t wait till she outgrows more of this stuff so that I can keep getting rid of it, too. Benefit to knowing you’re only going to have one kid: I don’t have to keep ANY of this stuff once she’s too big/old for it. I get to divy it up among my friends and coworkers who are having their firsts (a group which seems to grow bigger every day, because I guess we’re just at that age).

In short: The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up can change your habits and your house, and if that’s what you’re looking for, definitely hit this one first before you start researching organization methods and all that other crap. Streamlined, simple. The book could probably be half its length and still get the exact same message across—but then, maybe she hasn’t learned to tidy her writing the way she tidies her home. 🙂

Recovery (Baby Steps!)

One of the absolute best things I’ve learned from the Nerd Fitness Academy is the importance (and effectiveness!) of baby steps. Incremental changes over long periods of time will stick 100% better than quick, monumental changes. I used to be the kind of person who wanted to change everything at once. It’s a funny kind of perfectionism, where you say “Today is the day that I do EVERYTHING right!” And maybe on the first day, you do. Maybe even the second. But somewhere down the road you miss something, and all of a sudden your change, your effort, is no longer “perfect.” You’ve already failed, so why keep trying? So you give it up, and slide into your old ways, and then weeks or months down the road you map out another quick, monumental change that won’t stick. All the while getting down on yourself because you can’t seem to get better at life even though you want to.

Nerd Fitness has taught me to take it slow, and to love myself. You can’t hate yourself into a better person. You just can’t. But you sure can love yourself into a better one. That starts with letting yourself make mistakes. Letting yourself miss stuff, and not giving up just because you broke a streak or things won’t look “perfect” when you track them in your planner. Putting self-care and self-love before everything else has actually improved my productivity and my health. If I’m deep in the feels and really need some Netflix binging, I allow myself to do that. Depression isn’t something you deny your way out of, after all. But with a little TLC, I can come out of it faster and better prepared to get on with my life.

With all that in mind, I knew that I would need to be forgiving in my recovery process after the pregnancy. C-sections are no joke, caring for a newborn is tough in ways that you don’t quite expect, and since I spent the entire pregnancy laid up with HG I was starting from a literal ground zero, with no muscle strength, no stamina. Here’s my recovery process, broken down by weeks.

Week One: Hubby took this week off work to stay home with us and help out, and that was super important and wonderful. Baby girl was eating every couple hours, and on some days even every hour or half hour (they call it a growth spurt…I was just exhausted). I just did not have the energy to constantly feed her AND change diapers, soothe her back to sleep, etc. I couldn’t even get up from a sitting position while holding her, because of the extra weight, my weak muscles, and the pressure it put on my incision. Likewise, if I’d had to cook for myself that whole week, I wouldn’t have eaten anything. Having hubby there to cook and refill my water (breastfeeding makes you SO thirsty) was a lifesaver. I didn’t give myself any goals this week, because I was expecting to still be in need of some major rest.

Week Two: My sister came to help out for the week, ferrying us to doctor appointments and cooking for us and spending lots of time hanging out with her niece. I was feeling way better after the surgery—what’s a little incision compared to the nine months of HG? I was also still taking ibuprofen and tylenol pretty much around the clock, which I can see now tricked me into thinking I was doing better than I was. I set a goal of 1,000 steps every day, and met that goal because in a single week I had a lactation consultation, a follow-up with my OB, an eye exam (because I desperately needed new glasses, and had run out of contacts), and a weigh-in at the pediatrician for the little one. Definitely too much to take on in week two of recovery! I also set a goal of writing 200 words/day, and brushing my teeth every morning. The teeth brushing went well (with someone else here to hold on to the baby while I did so, it was pretty easy), but the writing I only managed on one day. (Belly Progress: Still a super big uterus in there. I’ll need my maternity clothes for a while.)

Week Three: My mother-in-law came up for this week. No doctor appointments, so we took it easy at home every day. I upped my daily step count goal to 2,000 a day, and met it 6 out of the 7 days. It was tough to meet on some days, though, because my incision was still hurting when I did too much (and sometimes just taking a shower was enough to lay me out for the next hour). I tried to brush my teeth every morning and evening, and only really managed to hit the mornings consistently. My word count goal of 200/day was completely neglected. I began to think that I was taking on a bit too much, expecting more than just tiny little goals. Even through the frustration, I kept telling myself it was okay if I didn’t get to write on a given day. Newborns need a lot of attention, and I still wasn’t fully mobile/functional. But it might get better/easier as time goes on. Certainly once she doesn’t need to be held constantly to be happy, once toys are interesting and she’s got full neck control and can go a little longer between feedings, there will be more snippets of time for me to snatch for writing. (Belly Progress: When looking from the side, my belly finally drew even with my breasts)

Week Four: My first week alone with the little one. Hubby works down in LA, so it really is just me and her at home all week. The fridge was pretty abysmally empty. The first day was super tough, and we didn’t reach our step goal of 3,000 steps/day. The surgery recovery seemed to be going great, as my incision didn’t give me so many of those warning pangs that I was pushing myself too hard. I did have to schedule another emergency doctor appointment, though, to deal with some shoulder/breast pain that kept growing in intensity. I shouldn’t have to take ibuprofen around the clock four weeks post c-section, so I figured it had to be thrush or mastitis developing. Not fun. Thankfully, the meds worked pretty quickly. Baby girl did a good job of staying pretty easy the latter half of the week, and then we had another fairly easy weekend with her. (Belly Progress: Finally sticks out less than my boobs!)

Week Five: In which I learn that having visitors is great for my mental health but bad for my sleep. Seriously. If I can’t sleep when the little one is sleeping, I end up staying up way too many hours in a row because then she’s awake when I want to be sleeping later. No bueno. I decided to throw out my step counts this week, mostly because it still hurts enough to shower or to bathe her that I can’t do both of those in the same day. I’m obviously still recovering and still needing not to push it too hard, so I just need to trust that it will get better with time, and that higher step count goals will be attainable in the future. Honestly, it’s hard enough just brushing my teeth morning and night, since there’s no real semblance of routine with this little one yet. I read a good book, though, and managed to do all the dishes before hubby got home for the weekend. I’ll consider that a win for this week. (Belly Progress: Seems to have stalled a bit, but more of the dermabond is coming off my incision and it’s a nice healing pink underneath, so that’s good.)

Week Six: My mother can be pretty abysmal at “taking it slow” after surgery, so when she decided she had to travel with my dad for his work a mere 1.5 weeks after knee surgery, my sister and I decided she’d be better off spending the time at my apartment than alone in a hotel room. It was a rough week for me—loading and unloading stuff from the car with no one to help, cooking for two when sometimes all I wanted to do was snack on something unhealthy instead. It was nice to have someone here to watch the baby while I got out of the house briefly—I even bought some new shorts, in my pre-pregnancy size, that fit perfectly (a little loose, even). (Belly Progress: Still stalled.)

Week Seven: My mother-in-law is visiting again this week, and she’s great about staying up late with the baby and giving me ample time for naps. I’ve had to check my blood sugars this week for a follow-up appointment to make sure the gestational diabetes went away. I was kind of freaking out, getting a lot of high numbers, until I realized that the test strips I was using were reading a whole 45 points higher than they should have been due to leaving them out of their special container! A fasting number of 130 is not great. A fasting number of 85 is spot-on. The gestational diabetes is well and truly gone. Unfortunately, at the end of this week I had to head to the ER three times in one weekend. You’d think I would have had enough of hospitals after that hell of a pregnancy. What is it this time? Gallstones. Stones that I know weren’t present before, because the last abdominal ultrasound showed a “sludgy” gallbladder, thanks to the weeks spent on TPN, but no stones. But pregnancy hormones have a way of completely screwing with your body’s normal processes—so now I’ve got symptomatic stones and am scared to eat any fat or chocolate. I have to do little experiments of eating something to see if it triggers a gallbladder attack. And I now have to convince a surgeon that we shouldn’t be hasty about getting my gallbladder out, because if I can get these stones to resolve no new ones will form (not being pregnant or having HG or diabetes anymore).

Week Eight: The little one still has night and day mixed up, but a kind friend is going to sleep over on Thursday night so that I can get some uninterrupted rest before I have to go in for my first full day back at work. I’ve cleaned the house and done the laundry in preparation for the nanny’s first day, since I figure everything should be in its place at least once, so she knows what things are supposed to look like and where they all go. I’m apprehensive about going back to work, mostly because I haven’t gone in for a full day since week 7 of the pregnancy. And here I am with a two-month old daughter. What if I’m rusty? What if there’s too much to catch up on, and everyone is annoyed with me for being so far behind? I love my coworkers, and none of us could have foreseen all these health issues, and they aren’t resentful because it’d be pretty silly to resent me for getting sick, since I obviously would have done anything to avoid it if I could have. Still, it feels strange. I’m nervous. And hoping that I can prove myself a valuable asset again. And that it doesn’t take too long to pump. And that my milk supply doesn’t start dwindling from the pumping. *Sigh*

Week Nine: Back at work! I can’t say I’m 100% recovered yet, of course. It takes a body a very long time to recover from being sliced open. But, I am strong enough to go back to my mostly-desk-work job, and slightly eager to get out of the house and have some time free of my responsibilities to the little one. As much as I miss her when I’m not with her, I do feel slightly more like normal when I’m at work and just dealing with work stuff. More posts will follow later, probably about the new challenges of being a working, nursing mother.

Overall, I don’t think I’ll know what full recovery feels like until I’m done breastfeeding. My body still isn’t completely my own, and my incision still hurts sometimes a full three months after the surgery. Mentally, though, I’ve made a full comeback from the horrible illness of the pregnancy. And a year from now, I’m sure I’ll be stronger and healthier than ever.

A Meeting at Corvallis

As the third book in the first trilogy, you expect the stakes to be raised. War, definitely. Probably some of the characters we know and love dying. Political intrigue, more fun weapons and farming hacks from these people still adapting to a changed world.

I was a little disappointed at first when everything seemed to jump around a bit. There are a lot of storylines here that all have to converge together, and thankfully Stirling does a pretty good job juggling them. It’s a far cry from the first book, which made you fall in love with Mike and with Juney. But all the players in this third book are important, and the different plot lines converge in an epic climax.

There is a nice sort of interlude at times, when we’re following Rudi Mackenzie. His scenes are less action-packed—three or four characters at once instead of everyone on a battlefield fighting a war. It makes sense, having read the next trilogy, that Stirling would want to take time to develop Rudi and get readers interested in him. He’s a fun character, and I like him while he’s still a kid in this first trilogy, full of a pure, childlike wisdom that makes him intriguing.

A Meeting at Corvallis is an epic finish to the Mike/Juney storylines, so if they are the only reason you’re reading the books you probably don’t want to move on to read The Sunrise Lands. If, however, you love Rudi Mackenzie and want to see a lot more of him, you should read what they dub the Emberverse II books (sort of a sequel series to the initial trilogy). If you like Stirling’s writing, it’s worth it to keep reading the books. And if you’re Pagan, it’s even more worth it. Rudi lives his Paganism in a way that Juniper Mackenzie could only dream of, since Rudi was born into a world where Paganism was one of the major religions, except an eccentric oddball religion that many people considered cult-like.

The Protector’s War

This book takes place eight years after the events of Dies the Fire. We get more Juney and Mike, with all the supporting cast of characters that you grow to love during the first book. In addition, we get some awesome British characters thrown into the mix, which widens the scope of things.

There’s war brewing between the Mackenzies & Bearkillers and the Portland Protective Association. Which puts our characters in danger, and makes for some fun sweeping battle scenes. You get to know a little more about the characters in this one, but don’t have the same prolonged exposure to single characters that you did in the first book. Though, it’s pretty hard not to fall for young Rudi Mackenzie. He’s eight years old, and precocious as anything.

This book is mostly a bridge between books one and three, but not at all boring. You get nice escalations of characterization, plot, and world building. The apocalypse problems of “oh shit the world has changed and everyone is killing each other” shift to problems of organizing groups of people for protection and farming. You get to see some more of Astrid and Eilir, too, which is great, because I love them.

If you liked Dies the Fire, you’ll like The Protector’s War. And it’s infinitely worth reading so that you can get to A Meeting at Corvallis for the big finish.

Dies the Fire

Post-apocalyptic fiction is a big deal for me. I’ve always thought that raising the stakes is the best way to see who a character truly is. On a small scale you could say that’s why I prefer YA over adult fiction so often—because for teenagers things are often perceived as life or death, even if “death” is only social suicide. Why do I prefer speculative fiction over realism? Same thing. Stakes are usually higher. Characters facing magic or new frontiers or intergalactic wars—bigger scale, higher stakes. Frodo can bring down this great force of evil if he just manages to walk to Mordor and throw a trinket into a volcano. One character, making all the difference.

So apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction is great, because it rips away everything a character knows and loves, and we get to see what’s left. What they can make of themselves, when they have nothing.

Dies the Fire follows two strong protagonists who become leaders in a world Changed. Gunpowder doesn’t explode anymore. The laws of physics have changed. No electricity. No electronics, period.

I like Mike because he’s a bit of a hardass, and gets shit done while protecting his people. Juniper is great because she’s strong but yielding enough to be really likable. And, she’s Pagan. How cool is that? S M Stirling gets the details right, too, which really helps. No mis-representation of Paganism for the sake of Hollywood thrills here.

This first novel of the first trilogy of the novels of the Change (say that ten times fast) starts right at the Change itself, which is cool to witness through both our protagonists’ eyes. And for this particular apocalypse scenario, it’s better that we can watch the characters face the Change head on, rather than joining them years after the fact. Still, the novels could all be considered post-apocalyptic because they really deal more with the fallout of the Change than with the Change itself. Empires are built back up and go to war, that sort of thing.

I like Stirling’s writing style, too. He’s got plenty of details in there, writes good dialogue, and knows how to get us invested in these characters by showing us their flaws right alongside their strengths. I’ve read this first trilogy a few times now, and it’s definitely worth it. An excellent read for the post-apocalyptic novel fan, the avid reader who happens to be Pagan, and the speculative fiction reader who enjoys adult fiction with strong characterization and semi-epic storylines (seeing as the second trilogy follows the second generation).

Reckless

I tend to love Cornelia Funke‘s stories, and this one is no different. Having to read all her work in translation is a little disappointing, depending on the skill of the translator and how well her prose survives the transition. The translator of Reckless did a fabulous job, though.

I was expecting Young Adult, like so many of her other books that I enjoy, but instead we get Jacob, probably in his late 20s or early 30s. He is a cynical, tortured soul, and the events and battles are darker and more violent than I was expecting. All in the best possible way. I was continually surprised by the smooth way that Funke folds fairy tale motifs into this new, interesting world.

Fox is my favorite character, and I think we learn more about her in what is NOT said than in what is, which I think denotes excellent writing. The ending, too, is understated compared to what we are used to lately. But it is satisfying in a better way, since you can’t tie up every little complication with a pretty bow in real life.

This is a beautiful book, just strange enough to stand out, and inventive enough to be engaging and exciting. Lovers of fantasy and of fairy tale inspiration would enjoy this one.