Valerie

My husband and I decided to start a Christmas tradition of buying used books for each other's stockings. I've never read this before, and I was pretty blown away, especially considering it was published in 1959. It is startlingly relevant still and belongs on all the lists of important fiction. I was blown away by the richness of the world-building and the different perspectives it made me take. Glad to finally fill in this hole in my literature canon.

For over a decade, I have been wondering how the Marquis got his coat back. Now that I have an answer, I feel I can at last breathe easily again.

Rogues is an interesting collection and is spans genres much more than I expected. A lot of the stories seem to require at least a little foreknowledge of the author's previous works. For lovers of Neverwhere, A Song of Ice and Fire, and The Kingkiller chronicles, this is a real treat. Gaiman and Rothfuss easily have my two favorite stories in the bunch in no small part because they take my favorite character from their respective worlds and give them a chance to shine as rogues away from the hero's spotlight. Martin's story is interesting, but written as a historical translation, so a bit more dry than the actual novels. It also offers several extremely intriguing sidelines which go nowhere and serve only to frustrate the reader. Thanks, George, for reminding us how much more there is to your world and then not telling any of it to us!breathes

And thanks Rothfuss for not only giving Bast a “Winter is Coming” line, but naming your crazy old hill-codger “Martin.” A bit snarky, but appreciated nonetheless.

As for the other stories, the gambit is wide. I've never read Gillian Flynn before, but her story was hauntingly scary. I'd hoped Scott Lynch would give us a little exploration of some of the Gentleman Bastards, but his story is entertaining nonetheless. Daniel Abraham's piece is surprisingly poignant, but as intricately plotted as I've come to expect of his work.

For new authors to me I really enjoyed Michael Swanwick's take on historical zombies. Bradley Denton's “Bad Brass” was amusing if only because it was about a marching band crime ring, and how is that not a wonderful thing?

I definitely enjoyed the purely fantastical stories much more than the others, but that's probably just a matter of taste. The only one that I was actually irritated reading was “Now Showing,” which was just so referential as to lose its charm. Writing about a couple who shares a love of movies is difficult, because every reference just feels so very forced. The concept of far future movie theaters is awesome, but I came away just tired from all of the “new blockbusters” and shameless Star Wars quotes.

If you like any of the names in this volume, it's definitely worth reading their stories even if you skip the rest. I particularly urge Gaiman and Rothfuss fans, the first because it clears up a decades old confusion and pays love letter tribute to the most beautiful piece of clothing ever produced, and the latter because it reveals much more of Bast (literally and figuratively) than any of the epic tome novels do. Fae fanservice? Absolutely. Thanks, Pat.

McCaffrey was one of my favorites as a young teen, and I'm having some fun revisiting now. I don't think I read this as a kid, but it's the type of story I would have loved then: headstrong princess rejecting her rank, mysterious strangers. It's perhaps a bit simplistic by comparison to a lot of modern fantasy, but the fairy tale rings true and the illustrated pages are a nice touch.

Amazing book. Another SF classic that passed me by when I should have read it. Having finally done so with the perspective of an educator who has spent her entire adult life learning how to work with young minds, I'm deeply impressed by Card's impression of them. The children in the story all feel like very real children despite their intellectual advantages. Real children who have seen and experienced far more than they are supposed to have done. The idea of applying playground psychology to interstellar war is absolutely brilliant, and I understand why this book is as famous as it is. Not sure if I'll get to the sequels. There are a lot of them and my catch-up list is very long, but even without them ths book holds its own.

This book made me a bit sad. I love Charlie Jane, and this is the first time I've read something of hers that just didn't work for me. She is, as usual, a master of complicated, nuanced relationships and relatable characters. However, I just didn't enjoy the world. Things kept happening that snapped the suspension of my disbelief. From the first chapter, things kept happening that didn't make sense. From the lack of any government system of punishment to the overabundance of aggressive, carnivorous wildlife... it just didn't work for me. The fact that a teen relationship is at the center also just meant I probably wasn't going to love it. Also, Bianca is the worst. Consistently. The worst. I still love C.J. but I think I prefer it when she's working in urban fantasy.

“A Series of Unfortunate Events” is one of my all time favorite series, so I was extremely excited to get a hold of the new Lemony Snicket and even more excited to see it listed as “Vol. 1.” The style is still a joy to read including all of the references and language play that I associate with his other books. As a first book, it certainly leaves a lot of loose ends to be tied up. Not a lot happens in the story, but we're introduced to the usual eclectic Snicket cast and setting. Mystery upon mystery is presented, but none are solved. Normally, this would frustrate me, but I just enjoy the prose style so much that I don't really mind. I kind of feel like I just watched a Wes Anderson Film... or half of a Wes Anderson film. It's a lot less plot driven than ASUE, and I'm curious if this is going to connect with VFD and Count Olaf later on. I read the book in a day, and am eager for more. Just hope I don't have to wait too long.

I got this book from Del Rey publishing at Denver Pop Culture Festival through their “Book Wizard” program. I was extremely excited to read it since the Divine Cities trilogy is one of my favorites. This series plays out very differently, but still has RBJ's skill for extremely tight plotting and world-building. Basically, this is a fantasy novel for coders. The entire magic system is basically divine coding, and I think it would be a great gift for anyone in IT. It's also a superbly plotted heist that really never stops and has a Divine Cities hint of the gods walking among us, which is always a favorite theme of mine.

That said, I didn't like it as much as Divine Cities, and part of that was the characters who just weren't as vibrant as in that novel. These feel a bit more stock, and there is an extremely ham-fisted lesbian romance just kinda thrown in. Granted, I'm happy that we've progressed as a society where ham-fisted romantic subplots can also be gay, but this felt very much like a straight white man throwing this into a book to prove he's inclusive, and it just didn't develop enough for me. I usually don't care for romance sub-plots, and this one was just no exception. When facing the end of the world, I just can't see getting a date as a the top priority.

I love RBJ and will probably continue on when Shorefall comes out next year, but yeah straight male writers, beware of token lesbian romance syndrome.

I was extremely excited to grab an ARC of this at Denver Comic Con. Uprooted is one of the best modern fairy tales I have ever read, and while Spinning Silver is a completely different setting and set of characters, it upholds the fantastical tone and complexity of cast that have become Novik's hallmark.

The multiple POV's must have made this challenging, but each perspective gives us valuable insight into both the person and the time period. I want to slap period authors who don't write women with any agency because “that's just how it was.” The women in this book understand the limits society puts on them, and they work within or around those limits to make choices-Especially Miryem, who has to fight against people's attitudes towards women and Jews. Also, a European fantasy book that recognizes Jewish people and anti-Semitism openly? It's just great.

Like Uprooted, many of the male characters seek to take choices and control away from the female ones. Also, like Uprooted, they are unprepared for what they start. I'd argue that the antagonists here are more complex, often more sympathetic, but they are also held accountable for their actions, even if the reader comes to understand how they became monsters. Irina and Mirnatius' mirror narrative is particularly compelling and a lesson in how to keep from making more monsters.

I could gush about this book all day. It's clever, original, beautiful and everything I needed to read right now. You should read both this and a Uprooted, but they are only thematically a series and can be read in either order.

I was really into the concept of this book. Mayan-inspired mythology set in jazz age Mexico? Sign me up! Reading it though, the execution just didn't grip me. I couldn't really get invested in the characters and the writing was a little too YA for me to really get into it. Look, I don't hate all YA, but many books intended for that audience are just... really intended for that audience and not for me. It reminded me a lot of Katherine Arden's “The Bear and the Nightingale,” another book using underutilized mythology in a cool way, but just not in a style I found engaging.

I walked into this book with rather low expectations on account of it being so very hyped, but I walked out with exactly the sort of apocalypse I was looking for.

The first book works brilliantly as a short story and a hook to the larger omnibus. I see how this book was able to develop a cult status based on Howey giving away chapters. The story did a nice job of subverting my expectations, and whatever I was absolutely sure was going to happen, didn't. That's what made me bump this book up to five stars. For me at least, (and I haven't read a lot of post-apocalyptic sci-fi recently, to be fair), this book was almost entirely unpredictable. Howey establishes early that no character is safe, no solution without cost, and thus he keeps his suspense on high for the entire story.

The world Howey creates also sucked me right in. Everything from the limited resources to the tension between IT and Mechanical works within this tiny spiral. The normalcy of living within a few floors for entire lives, of never inventing elevators in order to preserve stratification (the only reason I can think for not having elevators), of birth control lotteries and registered relationships – it all plays together to complete this society that makes a terrifying sort of sense.

I also can't help but enjoy the dynamic between Juliette and Lukas. I shouldn't have liked it because really they don't have enough time together to establish the kind of bond they develop, but I found them believable nonetheless. I think that if an infatuation were cut off as quickly and cruelly as theirs was only to be relit again with both of them in isolation, desperately needing a voice of sanity and truth... that infatuation would become a dependency if not love. It would become something they both needed, which is how Howey plays it. I'm also somewhat pleased to see the novelty of the woman being substantially the older partner in a relationship.

All of Howey's characters, from Holston to Solo are entirely real and believable. Bernard is maybe a bit obviously villainous as he is malicious from the start, but his true motivation is perfectly righteous, saving him from being too much of a mustache-twirler. My only disappointment was that we didn't get more backstory about his relationship with Lukas. I'm not sure why Bernard trusted him so very quickly. It seems like he should have checked him out more thoroughly for a position of that importance.

The real key to this story, though, is its suspense. Howey is a master of the slow-build, and he finds every source of danger and tension available to his characters. If I had to describe the book in one word, it would be claustrophobia. Everything is packed tightly together, with no room for the reader to take a breath. The characters' panic becomes the readers' panic time and again as the walls move in just a little closer. Even in the second story (probably the more forgettable one for me), climbing stairs is laced with mystery and a question of where danger is lurking. By the time we follow Juliette out into the world and Silo 17, I couldn't put the book down. I kept rushing through to get back to her chapters. I could feel her suffocation, her terror, and her exhaustion. Books 4/5 had me sweating right along with the characters.

The book may still be a lot of hype. The science may not be the soundest. The characters might be a little rushed. However, the intensity of the story made this one of the most enjoyable books I've read all year. That's why I'm giving it the full five stars. It may not be perfect sci-fi, but it's definitely my kind of sci-fi.

This isn't necessarily the kind of book I'd typically read, but it is one I'm glad exists. It's poppy, fast-paced, often graphic, and action-packed. What sets it apart though is its setting (a Navajo reservation that is protected by a huge wall from the apocalypse outside) and its characters, particularly Maggie, an indigenous monsterslayer who really needs a lot of therapy. I saw Roanhorse at a local signing and she talks about the issues with indigenous representation in fantasy. Too often, it is reduced to a sidekick, usually a shapeshifter. “That's my culture,” she said, “Shapeshifters.” Roanhorse uses tons of mythological and human character to create a truly unique piece of fiction. It also does a really good job of representing trauma from a first person perspective. Again, the violence and downright abusive relationships in the story kept it from being my cuppa, and the ending felt a bit confusing and rushed (there is a sequel out now which hopefully clears some of that up), but it is a very noteworthy piece that I'm glad I stumbled across.

I got this book through First Reads a couple weeks ago. My interest in Egyptology is superficial at best, but the idea intrigued me enough to enter, and now I'm glad I did. Cooney presents a narrative of King Hatshepsut, a woman who ruled Egypt centuries before Cleopatra and who did so peacefully, effectively, and without exploiting her own sexuality.

As with any study of ancient peoples, a lot of this book is well-defended conjecture, and I can't help wondering if this is the five blind men and the elephant situation. Even if it is, the story Cooney weaves teaches us a lot about our own civilization and how we view people in power. When Hatshepsut's story was initially uncovered, Egyptologists wrote a narrative of an unattractively ambitious woman who stole a throne that did not belong to her and eventually got what she deserved.

Cooney, on the other hand, presents Hatshepsut's rise to power as a necessary, often well-received transition driven by her upbringing, abilities, and piety. She is open about what parts of the story are assumptions and hypotheses and presents volumes of research to support her ideas. The fact that our society had to evolve in order to even consider this idea is probably one of the most important aspects of this novel.

As a novice in Egyptian history, I still found it easy to read and engagingly written. I'd almost like to see it presented as an annotated novel rather than a historical text, but it's still interesting enough to keep turning the pages without fictitious elements. I would love it if it included a few pictures illustrating Hatshepsut's monuments and the evolution of her representation from princess to king, but I imagine the genre isn't quite popular enough for the cost of printing photos. That's what Google Images is for, right?

So for those with a strong interest in feminist history and/or Egyptology, this book is definitely a must read. Hatshepsut may not have the romantic appeal of a Cleopatra, but her pragmatism and skill make her a hero for the modern age as much as the ancient one.

I started reading Broodhollow last year when it made the list of top 10 webcomics of 2012. I love the idea of webcomics, but honestly I have a hard time keeping up with true serial stories. I guess I just don't have the working memory to keep a story arc going through such tiny bursts. That's why I'm always so very excited when a webcomic has a nice big graphic novel edition. I jumped on that Broodhollow kickstarter fast.

Broodhollow was billed as Lovecraftian, and I see it but only in the “something rather sinister is obviously at the heart of this quiet town and no one will believe me!” element. The characters are very unique and manage to convey a lot of emotion and story given the relatively simple style in which they are drawn. Dr. Angstrom and Maurice are my favorite characters who subvert expectations at every turn.

That simple style also serves as a great highlight to the richly detailed madness that is Straub's illustration when hell breaks loose. The drawings are so dark as to feel claustrophobic. You know there's more to see but you can't make it out and your eyes don't want to keep looking. The contrast between these happy, round, colorless citizens and this brooding, over-saturated nightmare world is why I love this series. Luckily, there's enough humor and cute little bats to make a wuss like me able to handle the story.

I highly recommend Broodhollow to any and all fans of visual storytelling and also anyone who ever wanted a pet bat.

Read this in an effort to expand my horizons to include more lit fic. I was blown away by the amount of levels this book functions on. The lack of proper nouns is a great tool for highlighting the gray space the narrator occupies in her relationships and in her homeland. The setting of 1970s Northern Ireland is interesting enough without using it to explore the pressures of conformity, especially those placed on women. The surreal, dreamy-journalistic quality to the writing adds to the intentional vagueness that permeates the whole novel. It's a challenging read, one that definitely made me feel like I was working to understand, but like a good workout, I feel really good having completed it.

Jason Brubaker's art is so stunning I'll give just about anything he does a chance. Sithrah is getting much more engrossing as the world fills in and the characters develop more personality. I can't wait to see where it goes from here.

I'm still very much enjoying this series, and even better, so are my students. I love the artwork, especially the sweeping double page spreads. The monsters are terrifying, the story is moving along at a good paced, and I love the dynamic between Emily and the unfortunately named Trellis. It's great to see a hero/anti-hero dynamic without romantic tones involved.

The only thing really annoying me is the mom. I can't honestly see how she'd let her children run off into this after the trauma in her life. She's kind of a hindrance on the plot. I wish she'd either join the cast as an Action Mom or at least stop getting kidnapped.

Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples, why you gotta keep breaking my heart like that?

The fourth installment is just as twisted, disturbing, and heart-pounding as the other three. The series itself is one of the most richly illustrated and well-plotted comics currently circulating. For me, this approaches Sandman levels of storytelling and art, and you all know my feelings on anything Neil Gaiman has ever touched. I'm really getting into The Brand's character and excited for where her story seems to be leading. Also, ten points to Marko for being the best even in the worst situations. And fifty points to Lying Cat for being Lying Cat even though she doesn't get much time in this issue. The way the character arcs are interweaving makes this issue particularly exciting and I'm only sad that we won't see five in graphic novel form for a while.

Saga is not for the easily offended, but if you don't mind the raw quality to the art and language, it is one of the best series out there.

This is a stunning reselling of Circe's mythology with a strong emphasis on her relationships, primarily with men. It's fascinating to watch Circe weave through life with her father, brothers, and lovers, watching how so many male figures seem to control her path as she perseveres in her love of mortals. She is pitted against the women who should be her allies and left with her own loneliness as one by one people try to dismiss her as a flat archetype. Then we get characters like Daedalus and Telemachus, powerful contrasts to the toxic masculinity surrounding Circe. Miller takes these ancient stories and weaves them into a seamless tapestry (see what I did there?) that speaks to very modern themes. I can't wait to read more of her retellings.

This book is a combination collection of essays/speeches, short stories, and the last incomplete novel of Douglas Adams. Reading it made me sad all over again that the world lost such a brilliant mind so suddenly and tragically. In this collection, you can feel his passionate love for the environment and technology and his hopes for their coexistence. You also get a healthy smattering of what might have been in had he lived to follow through on some of his ideas. I've put off reading this book for a while because I knew it would make me sad, but I'm glad to have read it.

I burned through this whole series so fast. I think the limitations of the structure are a little more clear in this one because there is a lot less time spent in-robot where everything is being recorded and a lot of our great record-keepers are no longer with us. It's a little more like reading a movie script than a book at this point, but that didn't really bother me.

At the end of this series, I am left in rather profound pessimism for the state of our world. Neuvel paints a devastating picture of what first contact looks like without the aliens, and it's... just a little close to home. I can hear Fox News blaming the Muslims for it even before it happens. The ending isn't completely dark, but it does feel a little too little too late. At the end of the day, this seems to be a series about power and fear of losing that power. The things humans will do to maintain the illusion of control. It's a timely theme, and I recommend this series to people who want to explore it and also love giant robots.

I don't know that I've ever finished reading a book, sat up in my chair, and then just started cussing it out for a full minute or so. I certainly haven't felt so emotionally affected by a book in ages. I've read Jemisin's Inheritance Trilogy and loved them, but while these books are wonderful and connected, they also each exist as stand-alones. Different protagonists, different themes, connecteed by an amazing world. When I saw her new book sitting on a shelf at a used book store, I picked it up expecting it to be the start of a similar trilogy.

As I closed in on the final chapters and realized there was no way this was wrapping up to my satisfaction, I checked the release date on book 2. It's August 2016.

insert string of expletives I try really hard not to use on goodreads because my students could find me here

Then I finished it and another string of expletives came right out. I walked around my apartment shaking for a while and trying to figure out if I had anything else I could read as a salve. I'm not sure that I do. expletive

I should probably talk about the book. Jemisin is probably the best world-builder of my generation. I say that as a fan of Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, Patrick Rothfuss, Octavia Butler, Ursula K. LeGuin and all of the other world builders I deeply admire and love. The world of Inheritance is rich and immersive, but the world of the Broken Earth? I don't know that I've every come across anything like it. We've got a magic system unlike anything I've ever read before, a power system unlike any I've ever read, and an apocalyptic setting that manages to be fresh and original in a world currently oversaturated with apocalypses. Jemisin takes familiar fantasy tropes and adjusts them just slightly to make something new. Father Earth hating his children. “Earth” magic that is far more an unstable science. Catastrophic climate changes as part of routine.

Then there are her characters. Jemisin is a stalwart advocate for diversity and her fiction demonstrates that without being overly preachy. Some authors try for diversity and end up with Power Rangers. Jemisin creates a world where race, gender, love, and power are so diverse, so fluid, and yet so intricate to the relationships developing in the story that her world is complexly diverse rather than statistically representative. I do think this is the first novel I've read with an openly trans character that wasn't about being an openly trans person. Maybe Sandman is the only other series I've seen it done so seamlessly without being an anvil on the plot. All of this allows Jemisin to address the issues of prejudice in all of its myriad forms without being a parable, with morality always a blurry line.

And then there is the story. I won't say it's completely unpredictable. Most of the major “twists” are easy to see, but in a way that made me feel like a smart, aware reader and not like the author just wasn't trying, and one element caught me genuinely by surprise. The time shifts take a bit of getting used to, but once you catch on are easy enough to follow. So are the shifts between third and second person. I'm not generally a fan of second person, but this is an author who can handle what should be a gimmick and make it into an effective tool.

So what I'm saying is don't read this book. Not yet. Wait until this series is completed because otherwise you're going to sit her for the next 8 and a half months like me, refreshing the pre-order button on your Amazon page and just hoping that release date will somehow magically change to today.

I've been meaning to read this forever and finding a copy at the used store was like Christmas. I just love this group of people. I love how many lines Jayne gets and how few Inara gets. I love the artwork which is spot on. I love my Captain. It's just so much fun to hang out with the crew again.

I often find I'm not as into spin-off short stories and novellas, but this is a rare exception. I wouldn't recommend reading it if you haven't read “Borne,” but it also only has to do with Borne on the periphery. It's Vandermeer at his weird, bio-tech best, weird and wonderful with rich language and challenging perspectives, and it adds to the Borne universe in unexpected ways.

Conceptually I really enjoyed this book. Anti-colonial sci-fi is very much my jam, and I can't think of another speculative book offhand told with an aboriginal Australian lens. That said, I think I might have enjoyed it more without the twist which I keyed into from the very beginning. The reveal was a long time coming which made some of the gymnastics done to avoid the reveal a little forced. The cover compares Coleman to LeGuin which I think is particularly apt in that a lot of LeGuin's novels were really narrative thought experiments, more concerned with concept than character, and I think that's true for Coleman as well. It's a very cool idea but the idea supercedes much of my bonding with any characters or their stories. Still, a very interesting book and a genuine, occasionally viscerally painful look at the colonial powers that founded Australia, the US, and too many other countries. Not enough of this book is fiction.

Some books make me angry because they reveal the darkest parts of humanity. And some books make me angry because they are written by 19 year old wunderkinds experiencing all of the success I just assumed I would have as a 19 year old non-wunderkind. This book is both. It's a fascinating fantasy coating over some of the darkest periods of Chinese history that my privileged, Western self has never even heard of. It has intense depth of character development, a tight and twisty plot, and a stunning mythology. Also, while Rin has deep relationships with a lot of men during this book, none of them are sexual because WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A BRUTAL WAR AND DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR SUCH THINGS! I can't tell you how much I appreciate this take on the situation.

The book is brutal, not for anyone with violence triggers. But if you can handle it, it is well worth the read. I definitely need a break before picking up the sequel, though.