Ryan
You would have to be a fan of not only Star Wars, but specifically of the Heir To The Empire trilogy, to enjoy this. But for those of us that did enjoy that series, this is an interesting look at Thrawn's origin story, and how he rose through the ranks of the Imperial Navy in the early days of the Empire.
This was a really interesting book. The world-building was intriguing, the technology and the politics were fascinating, and the writing itself was an absolute treat to read.
On the personal character level, Mahit's interaction with the memories and personality of her predecessor were really interesting - it's almost a shame that the plot required them to be separated from each other for such a large portion of the story! As it is, though, it's a perfect mirror of the larger story of Lsel Station trying to resist being integrated into the Teixcalaanli Empire - the macro and micro levels of storytelling are really well intertwined throughout the novel.
That macro/micro connection applies equally well to the political intrigue parts of the story - the tension between Lsel's understandable need for independence and the Empire's need for expansion, and the political aspirations of the Emperor and his court are both compelling and interesting (even though a lot of it might be things we would consider unappetizing in a real-world setting).
Lastly, Martine's storytelling and ability to describe Teixcalaan are absolutely wonderful, and you can really feel yourself inhabiting, or at least visiting, the world that she describes. It's sun-drenched an full of beautiful street art with unique a rhythm and flow.
If anything, the novel struggles to contain all of the ideas that are stuffed into it - there truly is an entire universe contained in the pages here. You sort of hope for a giant, multi-media Star Wars type project to spring forward from it, as the world would definitely be rich enough to support that.
The central metaphor at the heart of The Deep is both beautiful and sorrowful, a what-if of historical fantasy branching away from one of the worst things one group of humans has ever done to another. If the story was just that, it would have been good. The story Solomon weaves around that metaphor elevates The Deep to greatness.
This was a nice little trip back to the Vorkosigan Saga that takes a somewhat underserved character and gives her some space to breathe on her own. I've liked Ekaterin since she first appeared in Komarr, but it was always a little difficult to get a complete read on her, as Miles' intense gravitas always obscured her a little.
The story itself seemed like an attempt to wrap up some loose ends - we spend a whole lot of time in the Vashnoi Exclusion Zone, we get a followup on the butter-bug plotline from A Civil Campaign, and as mentioned we get some more time with Ekaterin. All around, a pleasant read.
I started to read this because I'm a regular viewer of the Kim's Convenience TV series, and I want to start by saying that the two are very different from each other. This makes a lot of sense given the very different media that they were created for, but it's worth noting.
Kim's Convenience is simultaneously heart-breaking and heartwarming, darkly funny while still being at times melancholy. Ins Choi does a fantastic job of balancing those emotions and the tension that is created by trying to be both at the same time. In the introduction to the play, Ins Choi makes a comparison to Death of a Salesman, and that's a very apt comparison - both plays look at aging men, the legacies they try to build, and the ultimately devouring nature of capitalism.
This was an interesting look back at stories from the history of professional hockey from the unique perspective of the best player in the game's history. The book is structured more as folklore than as a straight history - if you've ever had the experience of sitting down to watch Hockey Night in Canada with an older relative who peppered in anecdotes about Eddie Shack or Jean Béliveau between the play-by-play, that's basically the experience of reading this book.
Of special interest were the parts of hockey history that Gretzky was personally involved in - getting an on-ice perspective about things like the Canada Cup and the Oilers' dynasty years was really interesting.
Margaret Atwood makes a much-anticipated return to the world she created in A Handmaid's Tale with this. Not so much a sequel in any direct sense, but a larger examination into the dystopia she created, the story follows the lives of an Aunt, a schoolgirl, and an outsider and we learn more about the society of Gilead that gets created.
The Aunt Lydia storyline was amazingly well-done, and provided a lot of insight into what a system like Gilead's would do even to those in privileged positions. She doesn't quite become a sympathetic character, but serves as an interesting reminder that the bastards will grind you down if you let them.
Agnes' story was really interesting as well. Seeing the perspective of someone raised in Gilead, and who accepts the basic tenets of that society without question, is horrifying in ways that even the original novel failed to achieve.
The only part of the book that I didn't particularly care for was the epilogue - it felt tacked on, and lacked a lot of the understatement and subtlety that Atwood featured in her storytelling to that point.
This was a lot of fun, with the caveat that you'd have to be fairly well invested in Star Wars trivia and lore to get anything worthwhile out of it. But, if you've ever wondered about the hidden lives of characters like the Mos Eisley bartender, the droid that malfunctioned outside of the Lars homestead, or the chief mechanic of Yavin IV, this is the book for you!
The collection of authors the book is comprised of are fantastic, as well - some of my favourite current sci-fi authors are here.
This was a fun read - trope-y in a way that makes it seem like a greatest hits of noir detective stories. If you're someone who likes detective stories as a genre, but doesn't read a lot of them, you'll probably dig this. For the more entrenched noir fan I could see it becoming a case of familiarity breeding comtempt, though? Regardless, the banter between Jack and Trixie is always fun (and that level of fun matched by the dual narrators in the audiobook version)
I was really excited to read this due to its historical status and influence, and because of those factors I remain glad that I read it. The historical setting, and the place the book has in the history of the wuxia tradition made it enjoyable. However, I wasn't really able to connect with it on a deeper level than that, which hampered my enjoyment somewhat.
This was a really well-done noir novel, set in the seedy parts of a New York that might not exist anymore. The novel really felt like it was set in the 1970s, despite email and Craigslist being a really important part of the plot, and that created this interesting friction as you read it. Aleas tells the story well enough, though, that you keep reading despite that friction, and manages to carve out an engaging and thrilling mystery with an unexpected resolution.
This was a fascinating book that looked at the case of Dr. Marcel Petiot, a serial killer that preyed on the people of Paris during the German occupation.
It's a dark, gruesome story, for multiple reasons, and as such I can understand it not being people's cup of tea, but I couldn't tear myself away from it. The lore that people built up about Petiot at the time - was he secretly Gestapo? Secretly French resistance, fighting the Gestapo? Or, was he an entirely domestic monster, taking advantage of the chaos of war to further his own ends?
It's also interesting to see how Petiot played the media to his advantage - that's something we often associate with more modern killers, but having someone doing it so brazenly against a police force unprepared for it was very interesting to see.
Overall, this book was an interesting look at a minor bit of history that often gets (understandably) overlooked in the shadow of the much larger act of violence that was unfolding across Europe at the time. If you're interested in either French history or serial killers as a topic, it's a very worthwhile read.
This was another fun superheroes vs monsters story. The action picks up fairly immediately after the last one ended, but with a switch in narration; this gives the story a fresh new feel. It's very much a “chapter 2” sort of feel, compared to a book that still stands on its own. This makes sense given the comic book inspiration of the story, but is something readers should be aware of.
I should add, as well, that part of what makes this series fun for me, as well, is the Waterloo setting. It's been a long time since I lived in that city, but I can still recall a lot of the local landmarks that get featured and it creates an extra level of connection to the story.
A retelling of Back to the Future done in “Shakespearean style” - a dialogue-heavy script with little stage direction and a lot of iambic pentameter. You'd have to be a fairly big fan of both the Bard and the 1984 film to be interested in this. Luckily I am a fan of both, so this was a pretty enjoyable read.
At times the expository material seems heavy - there are a lot of cases of characters describing what they're doing, which is necessary for the way this was written but would seem odd if it were actually staged. There are enough Easter eggs throughout to keep the reading light and entertaining (I especially enjoyed how they handled the Huey Lewis cameo).
This was a much quieter and more introspective short story than we usually get from the Liath Luachra series, and to be honest it was a welcome variation. As much as I appreciate the action-based storytelling that we usually get with this character, it was nice to get something that focuses more on exploring and expanding our understanding of the protagonist. In many stories, having your mysterious, enigmatic warrior character become more familiar and open makes them less interesting, but O'Sullivan manages to avoid that with his version of Liath Luachra. I look forward to continuing to read more adventures with this character, now that I feel that I have a better understanding of her.
The newest Magic: the Gathering set is a pastiche of fairy tales and Arthurian romance, and this is an exploration of that. If you've played with and enjoyed the set, you'll probably enjoy this, it's neat to see the cards that you've been playing with brought to life through an engaging tale. If you're not a Magic player, though, and are just looking for an Arthurian romance there are probably other tales you'd enjoy more.
A Spark of White Fire was apparently inspired by the Mahabharata, which I've not read (aside from a single section of the Gita contained within it). While I can't comment on how faithful it is to that tale, Mandanna has done a great job of evoking the feel of myth – not only because this is a story with gods running around in it, but in every aspect, from rhythm and diction to character motivation and interaction. Despite the futuristic trappings, it feels wholly like an ancient story being sung into existence, and the contrast between those two aspects was delightful. Rarely is the title of “space opera” so well deserved.
One of the most enjoyable elements of the story is how well Mandanna blends the tightly personal family drama of royalty with the larger political stakes that that drama affects. These are people, ultimately, who are playing games and settling family squabbles in a way that will affect the lives of entire civilizations; however, they never appear capricious or uncaring to how their decisions affect others.
Overall, A Spark of White Fire does a fantastic job of melding its science-fiction and fantasy selves, and is an engaging start of a new epic.
This was a fascinating read for me because I lived through this period - it was the time at which I first started paying attention to politics - but so much of the underlying context was unknown to me then. If you're looking for a well-written summary of domestic US politics in the 1990s, this does that well.
Equally fascinating, though, was how much the culture has changed since then - not only with regards to how differently Clinton's impeachment would be treated in the social media age, but with how commonplace the idea of the US political parties working together was in the early 1990s? Newt Gingrich's remaking of the Republicans, and the ways the Democrats responded to it, seems so ingrained in everything now that it's hard to see a way out. Kornacki doesn't provide any thoughts on how to do that (and it wouldn't quite fit with the story that he's telling to do so).
Even more depressing, though, is thinking about how those ideological changes have become so apparent here in Canadian politics as well.
This was an interesting, but dry, look at the history of pre-revolutionary Paris and how the city developed into our modern understanding of it. It's focused on a time period that I'm not incredibly familiar with, but seeing the trends develop and the impact of architecture and public works on how are populace sees and organizes themselves was interesting.