Valerie

I discovered this series through the Neil Gaiman Presents audiobook collection, but this is my first time actually reading it. I still found it incredibly entertaining. It is fantasy without magic, romance without cliche, and drama with extra melo. It's my favorite kind of popcorn and it is five start popcorn.

The story is set in the dual world of Riverside and the Hill, the respective low and high classes of a fictionalized society where dueling is often done by proxy and the dangerous job of Swordsman is one both respected and reviled. Richard St. Vier is the best of the swordsmen working, and through this becomes entangled in the political machinations of the powerful much against his own will. He is regularly encumbered by Alec, his lover of mysterious origin. Alec's character, never entirely at ease and always a danger to himself and others, is probably the most intriguing character in the book.

Kushner's unique appeal is in her world's approach to sexuality. Almost every character could be viewed as bisexual, and there isn't much scorn attached to it as long as one does duty by their house and produces suitable heirs among the rich. There seems to be none at all when the people involved don't need to concern themselves with noblesse oblige. This may be the more “fantasy” portion of the novel (which I was surprised to find was written in 1987), and it gives the story a unique twist when dealing with love, power, and the manifold relationships between characters.

I love this story, and I think most anyone who thinks Regency literature could use a bit more excitement would agree with me.

The first volume of Sithrah was a little slow to catch my attention, but I'm glad I supported the second kickstarter because this next one is much more interesting. Now that we've established basic characters and situations, we can start exploring, ever so slowly peeking into this new, fantastical world Brubaker has created. The art is stunning, the book quality is well worth the price, and also, CAT! I love Brubaker's cats, ok? Especially when they can communicate with spooky entities existing just parallel to us.

If you're a fan of ReMind or futuristic fantasy comics in general, Sithrah is worth your time.

I have mixed feelings on this book, but overall I enjoyed reading it. Some of the plot holes and obvious devices made me cringe a bit, but I thought the story stood well enough on the grounds of character and theme.

I really enjoy fantasy books that deal with religion in unique ways, and this one definitely qualifies. We are given a look at multiple religions from multiple perspectives and find out that in the end, a religion is exactly as good as those who follow it. Raoden's message to the fallen Elantrians, once gods in their own right, is to find their worth as humans again. It is through production and effort that they are able to forget the myriad pains of their very existence, which I viewed as the million emotional scars that never quite heal in the real word. They find something greater than pain in their own humanity, and that's a message I think the world needs.Sarene's story is probably the least engaging, and she feels a little bit like a man's desperate attempt at a Strong Female Character. I like her, and I identify with her on a number of levels, but in the end she is still kind of a well-meaning damsel whose efforts tend to hurt more than they help because she doesn't think things through. I like her political savvy and her willingness to barter her marriage for the greater good (something I don't think we get to see the female perspective on enough) but her primary role is to motivate the male characters, and that's... a bit disappointing. Same goes for the wedding at the end. That whole scene was a cringer.The book still gets four stars though because of Hrathen's story. Honestly, I would have been just as happy to read Hrathen's story alone. He is the only character who truly grows (Raoden and Sarene are pretty much perfect people from the get go) and his transformation is astonishing. My opinion of him changed every chapter, and he always kept on guessing. He is the character who really exemplifies the religious themes of this story, striking the balance between logic and passion, mind and heart. He's the only one that I really wish hadn't died. The ironic ending was fitting, but I feel like his was a story that could have continued and I would've wanted to read about it.

I guess I would summarize by saying this book is an okay story with some really amazing themes. The setting is original and the characters are intriguing. I'd recommend it to anyone who enjoys classic fantasy settings with some original twists and a heavy dose of religious criticism.

My mother-in-law gave me this and the two parallel novels for Christmas. It's definitely not something I would have picked up on my own, but I'm really glad to have read it. The book is really about death and memory, about what we want to pass on, why we want to pass it on. It's about how we prepare to leave those we love. I feel like a lot of stories talk about death, but mostly from the perspective of the living, not the dying. This is a beautiful novel, sad and surprising. Highly recommended.

I started out really liking this book. Great world building. Pretty interesting aliens. I liked the writing style. Then, about halfway through, it turned into a romance, and not the romance I actually wanted. By the end, this was the main plotline, and it really just fizzled out for me. I think romance in sci-fi is very tricky, and it's great when it works well, but this one just felt kind of childish and basic (especially when Grant and Malley are both way more interesting characters).

Tanith Lee weaves a great mythos, and this story, slightly more narrative than the first volume, continues the epic world building of the Flat Earth. I particularly enjoy how Lee plays with gender and the effects it has on how people are perceived. I don't always agree, but it's interesting to find an older book with non-binary characters.

This book is a brilliant little piece of magic realism. Modern life with classic mythology. Beagle's style always strikes me as more literary than a lot of my favorites, which lends this solid grounding to his fantasy. The characters in this book are strikingly vivid and unique, and at this point in my life, people I really need to read about. Del and Abe have been together 22 years, but live literally on different islands and never married. This concept alone is intriguing even before a literal goddess enters the scene.

This is a book about habits and routines, about the comfort they bring and the danger of being too comfortable. The ability of humans to change stands in stark contrast to the inability of myths. Consequences are real both for stagnation and risk, and the characters have to decide over and over again which is their real priority. This is not a story that gets told with such delicacy very much, and I found the whole thing touching at a time when I needed to hear that humans are never too old to change.

Sometimes, you read a book when you're thirteen, and you're all, “Yeah, Jaxom! No one understands what it's like to be stuck in between so many things except you and me! I get this! I want a dragon!” Then you read that same book again when you're 32, and you're all, “Jaxom, you are an arrogant little snot.”

Anne McCaffrey took the Dragonriders series down the coming-of-age trope storyline with the third installment. She really does a marvelous job building that sense of self-conscious egocentrism that plague kids at this stage of life. She then mirrors that with the very idea of Ruth who is truly one of a kind and will never be like everyone else, a fact we all end up facing at one point or another. It's a good story, but somewhat marred by my adult skepticism. I can't look past the way Jaxom treats Mirrim and Corana anymore and his actions now seem a bit more reckless than precocious concerning his adventures. It's all in character as far as Jaxom is concerned, but it's no longer the kind of character I look for.

Still, I like the ending especially closing with Lessa and the fireplace and the discoveries that point to how much of Pern is left to explore. It doesn't speak to me as fiercely as it did my first go around, but it will always have a place in my heart.

I think I've decided I don't like the star rating system. I like analyzing things too much, and my feelings on this book run the whole gambit.

I'll start by saying that as far as writer's craft, Paolo Bacigalupi is a five star writer. The way he plays with the language, his powers of description, his attention to minutiae are all skills I to which I aspire. This book surrounds you with post-crisis Thailand from the sweltering heat to the stink of plague. The world envisioned is also terrifyingly probable. I remember doing research back in college on genetically modified foods and the disease mutations produced by them, but I don't think my brain ever made the next logical leap to fear and horror until reading this book.

The complexity of Bacigalupi's plot is intense. There are so many crises facing each and every character, and just when one of them distracts you to the point you forget the others, boom! Also he has the plague! Or white shirts attack. Or a plan goes awry. It's a lot to keep track, and Bacigalupi does it masterfully, instilling suspense and surprise at every chapter. Add to that the normalcy of a world without cats or elephants or pineapples, of government balancing on knife edges, of humanity delving just a little too deep. It's a world just slightly twisted from the one we know, and one where we could end up with just a few mis-steps.

His characters too are complex, believable, and sympathetic. Kanya's life as a double agent, coming to sympathize with the people she still despises, is fascinating to watch, and I love how she ends the story. Jaidee is likable, direct, and therefore doomed, but I loved his muay thai approach to the world, and I don't think I'd like the book at all if his phii didn't come around to snark behind Kanya's back. Hock Seng's unstoppable need to prepare and survive at whatever cost is balanced out by his sympathy for little Mai. He's like a Thenardier with a heart. Emiko, naturally, is the character that held my attention the strongest. I love the way her alien nature comes through the prose, the steady fighting of her nature and training against the reality of a world she for which she was never intended. When Emiko murders the Somdet Chaopraya and his men, I just about cheered. For a title character, though, she gets remarkably little screen time.

I think that Emiko's lack of screen time is really what keeps me from loving this book for all of its craft. The title is “The Windup Girl,” and I went in expecting a story about human hybrids surviving in a post-crisis world. I expected her to go North to the windup encampment. Instead, I got a story about Thai politics and genetically modified fruit. It's an interesting story, but it's not the kind of book that would normally peak my interest. For every heart-breaking or hear-stopping emotional chapter, there's five about political nuances and lychee. It was all necessary, but I found those chapters hard to sit through, especially in the beginning. If you have trouble with slow-starting novels, this one is really not for you.

I'd add to that statement that you should not try this novel if you are not okay with a lot of disturbing, often sexual, violence. I'm not accusing Bacigalupi of being gratuitous because that violence really cements the world and is vital to Emiko's character change, to the very idea that the mistreatment of just one person can topple the world (a theme I very much enjoyed), but it is graphic and again, hard to read.

It's hard for me to sum up my feelings on this book because they are so polarized. On the one hand, I have to respect the craft and skill that went into its creation as well as the entirely topical themes it introduces. On the other... it wasn't the book I was looking for. I didn't get enough time with the characters I wanted to follow, and I had to spend a lot of pages mired in stories I wasn't interested in. 3 stars might be harsh, but using the rating as my strictly personal opinion, that's about where it falls.

I've watched the Sword Art Online anime and really enjoyed the series, so when I saw an English translation of the original novel, I decided to take a gamble. The translation is about what I expected, not the worst I've ever read but pretty far from the best. “Frail?” You describe Asuna as “frail?” Lots of better synonyms, methinks. I think I might enjoy it more if I tried the Japanese where simple sentences make me very happy instead of frustrated. I wish that translators could use some Japanese words with a few footnotes. Ittadakimasu and Otsukaresama deshita just sound weird in English.

To the actual story, though, I was surprised at how much the anime added. I picked up the book wondering what the anime left out, but the opposite turned out to be true. This book is much more Kirito/Asuna-centric and most of the other storylines are completely absent. Asuna's part too starts out much less interesting than her anime counterpart maybe because her story isn't told chronologically. It takes forever to get to the point where she has any reason to be interested in Kirito, even though she pretty much is focused on him from the second we see them. Still, eventually the author starts showing what she can do instead of giving her a nickname and expecting the audience to believe she's a badass.

The thing I love about the anime and the best thing about the novel is Kirito and Asuna's relationship. So many stories go the will they/won't they route, dragging a romance around, throwing implausible misunderstandings and various rivals at the couple. It's boring. There is never any question that Kirito and Asuna won't, we just watch them develop and kick major ass as a team. They are a power couple who never lose faith in each other, even when the world is literally crumbling around them. I'm also a sucker for the “stuck in a game” story. I think it dates back to an Are You Afraid of the Dark episode I watched as a kid... it has always been a terrifying and fascinating concept for me.

The writing is very simple, but for a light read, it was better than expected. There's some typical Japanese misogyny and stereotyping, but I still treat Asuna as a step forward. My only real gripe is the edition. We start out with full color splashes of the major characters and each one gets a quote emblazoned by them. Most are central character ideas or at least full sentences. Asuna's is just “Kirito.” That's doesn't count as a quote, guys. That is lame. She has some really good lines. Why didn't we use those?

Oh wait, she gets another full splash page... in her underwear. And her quote is “Just ... don't stare... okay?” Grr! I don't know what the Japanese edition is but come on, America! SAO is a great series to appeal to everyone, but they gotta go the otaku fanservice route. Frustrating.

In the end, it isn't a bad YA read especially for anime fans, but you have to go into it with an internal translator... and maybe an x-acto knife.

So Allie Brosh makes me very jealous.

I've followed the Hyperbole and a Half blog for a long time, and in that time I have become very jealous of her ability to make me start heaving with uncontrollable laugh-sobs about two paragraphs in to any of her childhood stories. So, I was very excited when she announced her book deal. My sister got me the book for Christmas (read: I received the book yesterday) and I pretty much dropped everything to read it. The story contains some of her best works from the blog including the trials of Simple Dog and Helper Dog as well as tons of brand new material. My only sadness was it does not include “How a Fish Almost Destroyed My Childhood.” Thankfully, that story is still available on the internet. If you aren't familiar with Brosh's work, you should probably read that one right here

The book recounts some of the family legends of her childhood, her battle with identity to which I think everyone can relate, and her struggle with depression which everyone who has been depressed or has someone in their life who is depressed ought to read. I really just can't recommend the book enough. Read it.

My husband and I started a tradition a couple of years ago of used books as stocking stuffers, and this was one of his gifts to me this year. And it was quite a gift. A beautiful and tragic story packed with enough Lord of the Rings references to stump any hardcore nerd. I love the blend of narration, the effortless switch between DR history and the second age of Middle Earth, the magical mongooses (mongeese?). It's called the life of Oscar, but it shows how Oscar's life is also echoing and ricocheting off of his sister, mother, grandmother, great grandfather, and deep down his cultural roots. It does it with gorgeous prose and a depth of emotion. Definitely worth the read even this late to the party.

I liked the sequel a little better than the first one probably because there is a bit more conflict surrounding Grace/Pacy's life to which I think a lot of kids could relate. The range of that conflict stretches from “not quite fitting in and missing best friends” to “casual racism I suddenly realize I've been actively practicing as well as receiving.” Lin delivers important messages in a clear, concise, and not at all patronizing way. She takes difficult concepts like Taiwanese school systems several decades in past, foot binding, and the political differences between Taiwan and China, and makes them if not understandable at least visible to younger readers. I'm thinking I might do this series as a read aloud in the next school year.

I don't think this is the strongest book in the series, but I am still enjoying the overall flow. I go back and forth on Eddings' treatment of female characters. Sometimes they are well-rounded and complex, and sometimes male characters threaten to spank their figureheads if they get out of line. It was probably meant as a joke, but I'm a bi sensitive to such “jokes' in the current climate.

It is nice to get to know Ce'Nedra better and watch her step out of her initial caricature, though I do wish she was a bit less “anything for Garson” inclined. Likewise, the witch of the fens is so consumed by maternal instinct that she's willing to sacrifice the natural order of the world. And Barak's wife (who has every justifiable reason to hate him) is suddenly softening now that she has had a son. There are just a few parts that leave a bad taste in my mouth.

I'll definitely finish the series, and hopefully resolve some of my conflicts with the characters.

I think my book club really hit on it when they said that the themes in this book were really interesting, but the execution is dated and feels a little sloppy. The idea of “the other among us” and the fear and xenophobia surrounding this trope is sadly as relevant today as it was in WWII. The characters are pretty flat, however, and Katherine and Joanna's storylines are just both deeply disappointing. I see how it set a lot of foundation for mutant tropes, but it wasn't really for me.

I always find the Snicket books to be a delight. Daniel Handler's use of word play and vocabulary are deeply appreciated down to his clever naming of the characters. I read the first volume of this series some time ago, and really had trouble recalling a lot of the major plot points, and then I remembered that's because there were about a hundred or so plot points left dangling. This book is no better, so if it bothers you to have that hanging when the series is unfinished, don't start this one yet.

One of the main things I love about this series (and A Series of Unfortunate Events) is the Handler's deft portrayal of children. He has a wide and vivid cast of kids, each one a complex creature with a bigger understanding of the world than any of the adults in their lives could fathom them for possessing. Can I get 3 cheers for Moxie? What a stand up character (who isn't involved in a romantic subplot or anything!)

I haven't tried this series on my students, but I'm very curious to see if they'd appreciate it too. Recommended for anyone who loves wordplay and children's stories for grown-ups.

I am a bit proud to say I figured out the location of the Second Foundation quite a ways before the reveal. As a whole, I liked the first part of the book more than the second. Something about the Mule's presence really drove the storyline for me, and without his villainous shadow, I felt my own interest wane. Also Arcadia is... well, she's a fourteen year old girl and I'm famous for not really having patience with 14 year old girls. I was happy to see Asimov writing another lead female character, but she's just not the sort of person I enjoy reading about. Still, I loved the trilogy overall and am glad I finally got around to reading it.

I feel... guilty for liking this book so much.

On the surface, I really shouldn't like this book. It is a Chosen One story, and really I'm bored to tears of those. It also involves a romance between a millenia old god and a 20 year old woman. I mean... am I allowed to like that given how much I've made fun of vampires? I'm not sure that I am.

I can't deny it though. I devoured this book and am eager for more. Jemisin takes tropes like those stated above and plays them with a unique edge and serious craft that make this Story with a capital S. For starters, Yeine is certainly a Chosen One (and that's clear from her first encounter with Nahadoth), but she is very different from the typical archetype being a dark-skinned barbarian woman trained to think of men as fragile creatures in need of protection (If you've read Digger, Yeine is a Hyena and I love that). Yeine walks through the tropes (I have come to avenge my mother's death!) and grows out of them (Actually... maybe I have no idea who my mother is and should take a bit of stock in the situation before I start pointing fingers). Yeine is a woman struggling for control of her situation and making the choices allowed to her, learning that there are more choices than at first appear. Her dialogue with her Enefa soul serves to elevate the story to a more cerebral, philosophical level. Yeine is young without being stupid, and she spends the story learning.

I also enjoyed the theology behind this story. Maybe it's due to having just finished The Curse of Chalion, but I really enjoy when the magic of a fantasy story is directly linked to a god. The gods here are a far more overt presence than in Chalion, but they are interesting adaptations of familiar concepts. The love triangle between Itempas, Nahadoth, and Enefa pulls from so many mythologies to become a thing all its own.

Nahadoth is a problem for me. Basically he's an impossibly gorgeous, tragically-flawed fixer-upper with a heart of gold. These people do not actually exist. That said, I kinda wouldn't have him any other way. The romantic scenes in the book are well-done, sexy, and not so numerous as to push the book into the Paranormal Romance genre. Nahadoth is an awesome, divine, and extremely fictional love-interest. That's how I'm going to justify loving his scenes. Sue me, I'm only human.

The ending is maybe a bit too perfect for my tastes, and again I have a little trouble with Yeine's messiah status, but I'll forgive it because the writing is so driven and solid.

Loved the book. Will definitely finish out the trilogy. Highly recommended to fans of Ellen Kushnr and anyone who likes well-written fantasy with a modern (and sexy) edge.

It's really rare that I like a second book more than the first, but I found Foundation and Empire much more gripping than Foundation itself. Probably, it has to do with the fact that I get two longer stories instead of 5 short ones. I had more more time to attach myself to characters. I loved Riose as a villain in the first chapter and Bayta as a hero in the second. Part of what kept me from adoring the first book was a lack of any real woman character. I understand that books are a piece of the time they are written in, and I wouldn't have held it against Asimov for not including any, but the presence of Bayta really shows how well he mapped out the evolution of human society. The Mule is a powerful force too, and the ending is pushing me right into the third book.

Forgive me if this review is a little fuzzy. I'm fighting a nasty virus which has left me able to do very little besides lie on the couch all day and watch the position of the sun change. During that time, I did manage to finish this book, so thoughts:

This book answered the pressing question of how to make Valerie interested in political drama: Set your drama in Disneyworld. Doctorow found the perfect microcosm universe in which to meditate on his philosophies. The book is a love letter to Disneyworld, and the theme I found most compelling was the idea of preserving the old attractions hundreds of years into the future when they are still just as beloved. It's nice to see speculative fiction that shows people don't really want everything to change. Doctorow's world has ended scarcity, plugged people into the net 24/7, and even learned to cheat death, but people still enjoy a trip down the Caribbean (with or without Jack Sparrow). Upgraded and tweaked sure, but Doctorow's future Magic Kingdom is still perfectly recognizable. I had a lot of fun just imagining the very serious conversations happening in full Haunted Mansion costumes.

This book deals with a ton of speculative themes which my stuffy brain is not really up to exploring, but I'll try anyway. First, the idea of Whuffie and meritocracy which I find both intriguing and terrifying. I'm glad that Doctorow doesn't give us too many details on Dan and Julius' arguments on the subjects because that would have been too forced philosophic, but I still have a lot of questions on how a Whuffie-based economy works. On how the whole Bitchun society works, really. We all like to think that based purely on our own karma, we'd do okay in the world, but if I really stopped to analyze mine, I'm not sure I'd come out on top. I'm also still curious about the different kinds of Whuffie. Again, I'm thankful Doctorow never departs from the story to expound, but I'd have loved to see more of these pieces of the world in action.

Dead-heading is another curiously blase topic. I love the logic that no one complains about it because everyone who had a philosophical bone to pick is already dead. Everyone left was raised to pretty much accept it. You were murdered? Oh big deal, ya baby. Get over it. I love that Julius feels bad about feeling bad about his own murder.

The theme that really hit home with me though was when Julius goes offline. As one of the few people left who haven't gone smartphone, I often feel like a backwater hick, but too much connection leaves me drained and ... well, disconnected. It's when Julius is offline that he has his idea of bringing in the human elements of the Mansion, crowd-sourcing its cast, and making it a social experience over an individual one. That's the part where we cheer for him, however melodramatic he may be at other points in the book. The idea that he will permanently lose life events because he is offline and doesn't want to visit a doctor, is terrifying and creates tension where a death-free society should have none. This part is just masterful.

I can't say I really like Julius (or Dan or Lil for that matter). I think I was so focused on the themes and the settings, I never really bonded with any of the people. The themes and setting were interesting enough to keep me plowing through the pages, though. The Julius/Dan/Lil triangle was a bit predictable and seemed an easy way of building strife. I could have done without that, and Julius and Lil had enough problems as a couple that I didn't think Dan was necessary to make things worse. Dan changing his opinion from death to dead-heading was also kind of an anti-climax. It's one of those where I'm happy he's not dying, but I have no idea why he suddenly went back on all his principles. Dan and Julius' relationship is so complex, and they so often just ignore the awful things that go down between them. I guessed Dan was part of the murder conspiracy in the beginning, but it's interesting that this doesn't really damage their friendship, less even than Dan's affair with Lil. Murdering someone is like stealing 20 bucks from their wallet. It's an awful thing to do, but really no harm done, right pal? A dynamic I do not understand, but did enjoy reading.

I'm definitely curious to read more of Doctorow's recent works now and see how he's matured after this first novel. He has such a crisp, easy to read style and never gets bogged down by science. It's the brand of social-science fiction that I enjoy the most. A great weekend read for anyone who loves Disney and Science Fiction.

I read this book in about 20 minutes this morning.

I can't wait to share this book with my students.

I am a well-known Gaiman fangirl who regularly gushes about how awesome is works are, but that is immaterial

You should read this one if you have kids, like kids, or just keep a solid relationship with your inner kid.

Gaiman Fangirl out.

I decided to head back to Pern because I wanted something to read on my trip to Fantasy Con in Salt Lake and dragons just seemed appropriate. Reading Anne McCaffrey always makes me revert to being 12 and picking out books from the Science Fiction and Fantasy catalog with my dad. You could call the style a little dated, but I prefer to think of it as a piece out of time.

The Dragonriders of Pern has a lot to do with tradition, change, and consequences. The primary focus of this book is dealing with the consequences of bringing people forward in time, and I think that's a pretty obvious setting for 1971. Everything in Pern is out of alignment and no one can figure out why. Oldtimers cling to tradition in the face of very obvious paradigm shifts. It's a book about coping and ingenuity and dragons. Lots of dragons.

Admittedly, there are some awkward moments (F'nor and Brekke's scene for example) that just don't read right with modern eyes. The book is also much more about F'lar and Lessa becomes a more subservient character. However, I still think she holds her own and the equality of both Weyrleaders is stressed throughout the story even if Lessa isn't the star of the piece. I remember The White Dragon being a personal favorite of my chibi self, so I'm looking forward to this little waltz down memory lane.

I still think I could handle a fire lizard... get on it, science.

This was a really brilliant memoir. I got it randomly as a blind date book, and it's pretty amazing how well it aligned to my own philosophy. West writes candidly of her life growing up as a woman with all of the shame American society places on that. She shares the story of her career and how that career turned into a miniature crusade against intolerance for women, fat people, and people of color. She calls out even her heroes on behavior that is damaging to society, and she does it all with a set of Disney references that made me spit milk out my nose. Yes! Brother John is played by the actor bear Baloo who also plays himself in The Jungle Book. OBVIOUSLY!

After I read the book, I immediately passed it on to share the sit and philosophy it gave me. I think anyone could enjoy reading it, but it is particularly meaningful to other shrill women who will not be boxed in.

Every once in a great while, a book comes along that makes me very angry to have a job.

If I didn't have any responsibilities, I probably would have devoured this book in a solid, sleepless binge. It is that good. I have never read anything quite like it before, and the fact that it is Ann Leckie's first novel is an absolute shock.

The uniqueness is the main reason I'm so in love with it. The story is told from the point of view of a ship's ancillary, an AI in a human body, separated from herself by a series of events that unfolds smoothly as the story progresses. As such, her point of view is oddly unhuman, though never inhuman. She has emotions, grasps human thought, but she has to overthink her actions to appear human.

She's partnered by Seivarden, a former captain now drug-addict a thousand years removed from the current timeline. Seivarden's character is almost more interesting than the main characters, and the changes in this character and her/his relationship to the plot and to Breq kept me engaged whenever the story had to slow down.

What everyone is talking about, though, and the reason this is a five instead of a four is the story's treatment of gender. Breq is an AI and while seemingly in a female body (I think. At one point someone calls her “little girl,” but even that is questionable given Breq's inability to parse gendered terms) and she uses feminine pronouns and language as her default. Her “native” language has no gendered characteristics and she finds it incredibly difficult to guess the gender of others, a problem in societies like ours where the insult of using the wrong pronoun is huge. Leckie's decision to default female makes this book a stand-out. When I think of any other sci-fi I think of ships filled with male soldiers, male leaders, male protagonists. Leckie makes my brain automatically view every character first as initially female instead of the other way around. They I think only Seivarden is announced as a male character, though always referred to with female pronouns. As I read, I assigned gender to certain characters in the same way I might assign a hair color, a skin tone, a race. Things I choose based on my imagination that are in the end, unimportant to the plot of the story.

Making gender as unimportant as hair color is a truly significant feat, particularly in the male-dominated world of sci-fi literature. This feat is accomplished against a complex plot of political and actual warfare, a series of thoroughly developed world cultures, and the very human drama of our protagonist and her allies. I cannot recommend this book enough to anyone who loves sci-fi and wants a fresh take on the space opera. Read it.

This book is a warm blanket on a cold day. It's a balm against troubled times and was the perfect thing to read while dealing with this stressful season. It's one of those books that ostensibly gets shelved for children, but is really for the parents to enjoy reading aloud. The prose is lyrical and beautiful. The characters are rich and vivid. And there's a snarky fire demon. I first read this book way back when the Studio Ghibli movie came out, and I think I appreciate it more now just because of my current headspace. Every night when I picked this book up to read, I got a healthy dose of escapism that let me actually sleep. I'd never not recommend this book, but right now, I think it should be required reading for all us anxiety-crippled, pandemic fatigued folks out there.