What I read in December 2009
SF/Fantasy
The Shadow Queen by Anne Bishop. This is not a good book. It is, however, incredibly engaging on a very specific level. If you're looking for reasonable human beings, beautiful turns of phrase, thoughtful politics or believable dialog, this is not the book for you. BUT. If you want melodramatic wish-fullfillment crack, then the only series more suited is Lackey's The Last Herald-Mage.
This is the latest book in Bishop's Black Jewels series. The world is split into two classes: the downtrodden landen (basically serfs) and the Blood, who do magic and have ruled the world for centuries. Blood operate in a very structured hierarchy: those with more magic rule over those with less, and every member of society grows up knowing exactly what their place is. Territories are ruled by Queens, who have a tangled sort of feudal relationship with their Courts of male Blood. Over the centuries, this hierarchy became twisted and malformed, and many people lost their lives or sanity to the sadistic whims of those in power over them. The heroes of the first trilogy, Lucivar, his half-brother Daemon, and their Queen, Jaenelle, all suffered through torture and slavery before finally destroying the most dangerous members of the Blood. Two years later, they are still dealing with the fall-out. Daemon has never quite recovered his sanity, and Jaenelle no longer rules. And despite Jaenelle's best efforts, many territories are still in revolt against the Blood.
Dena Nehele is a provincial backwater, but when the descendent of Jared (from The Invisible Ring) requests help, Jaenelle makes sure to send the person best suited for the job. Cassidy is not beautiful, magically powerful, or aristocratic, but she is a Queen, and she has the right instincts for the job. Her journey toward becoming a true ruler, and her Court's journey to accepting her rule, takes up much of the book.
The usual problems with Bishop apply here. Her books rely upon gender essentialism to an almost unbearable degree. People have inborn rank and power, and going against it is a terrible travesty. Sexual violence, slavery, and violence are talked about on every page, although everything happens either off-screen or before the book begins. The plot is wrapped up poorly. The romance is nontraditional (and actually, about as sketchy as Daemon and Jaenelle's) and not that believable. And yet somehow, I couldn't take my eyes off the pages.
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. We are introduced to Katniss as she hunts for food in the wilds of Appalachia. In District 12, where she lives, starvation kills on a daily basis. Only her wits and skills have kept her family alive so long. But a greater danger than hunger stalks the District. Every year, a boy and a girl from each district are chosen by lottery and sent to the Hunger Games, organized for the glory of the Capital and the humiliation of the Districts. The chosen teenagers fight to the death, and the final victor is rich and famous for the rest of their life. When Katniss's little sister Prim is chosen for the Hunger Games, she volunteers herself, instead.
A truly incredible book. The characters are fantastic; the world building solid and believable; the plot riveting.
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins. Following Katniss's final act of defiance in The Hunger Games, the oppressed people of the Districts have begun a revolt. The Capital decides that the best way to solve this is to send Katniss into the 75th annual Hunger Game, as a special "treat" to the viewers.
Another fantastic, gripping adventure story. The revolts themselves feel much more natural and realistic than the majority I've read--Collins does an excellent job and conveying the hunger and cold and hopelessness that drive both apathy and revolution.
What really struck me about this series were the characters. Katniss is best at hunting and killing; she lacks emotional intelligence and eloquence. Her sometime-boyfriend Peeta loves to paint and bake cookies; his first instinct is to negotiate, and he is always kind and generous. A reversal from the usual gender roles, and yet it doesn't come across as forced--the characterizations feel perfectly natural. The background characters are a mixture of races and genders, and no one group is pigeon-holed into a role. There are no stereotypes here: even the stylist team hired to make Katniss look good for her tv appearances have depth.
I'm so glad sf like this is being written.
Seeds of Change ed. by John Joseph Adams. A collection of stories about paradigm shifts. This is easily the best anthology I read in 2009 (although the single author collection Pump Six still contains my favorite short stories of the year). The editor kept his choices to the best, not the biggest names, and thus captured some of the most innovative work in sf. Unlike pretty much every other anthology I can think of, there are no losers here--no stories that insulted or frustrated me, no lazy writing or poorly thought out plot points. These are stories with muscle and brain behind them, taking place all over the globe, all over the future.
The best:
"N-words" by Ted Kosmatka, is of course about racial prejudice, but also has a great deal to say about biology-as-destiny, and the effects of genetic diversity.
"Faceless in Gethsemane" by Mark Budz. A group has removed their ability to tell facial features and skin colors apart. A man tries to deal with his sister's choice to join the movement.
"Resistance" by Tobias S Buckell. A cameo appearance by Pepper does not distract from the work this story sets out to do: observe and pick apart the end results of a truly democratic republic
Unseen Academicals by Terry Pratchett. Fine, but no where near as good as Pratchett usually is. Some plot points never went anywhere, the wizards were far more powerful than usual, Vetinari spent a rather prodigious amount of time talking out loud, and the new characters all felt like retreads of old ones. Still, quite funny and with a good heart to it.
The Empress of Mars by Kage Baker. Mary Griffith came to Mars to be a fancy-pants scientist, but when her research looked less than lucrative, the British Arean Company fired her, leaving her stranded on the desolate rock. Luckily, Mary had an indomitable spirit, three beautiful daughters, and knew how to make beer. These assets in hand, she rapidly became the proprietess of the most successful (and only) bar on Mars. But the rulers of Mars are less than pleased with her success, and she'll need every bit of her wit to survive...
Really excellent story, with memorable characters, a twisting, intricately crafted plot, and a highly enjoyable ending.
The Serpent and the Rose by Kathlen Bryan. Gereient is the humble but magically gifted farmboy. Averil is the astoundingly beautiful but kind and humble lady, raised by nuns because her father couldn't bear to look at the reminder of his late wife. They each belong to allied noble orders (the Knights of the Rose and the Ladies of the Isle), and eventually they will meet and fall in love. Their love will undoubtedly be tested by the difference in their social stations and the Darkness Sweeping the Land. I don't know, however, because I gave up on this book about halfway through.
This book is what you get when the Belgariad and Arthurian myth are thrown into a blender, and then only the murkiest dregs are printed. It's a terribly boring mishmash of Christianity-as-last-hope-against-the-Serpent and farmboy-loves-princess. People are perpetually telling the farmboy how humble and gifted he is. Averil is continually far too mature and skilled to be 15. And the villain gets a chapter or two to explain his Evil Plans and how Evil is all he desires and so on and so forth every time the reader is getting truly bored with the farmboy and the lady's meet-cute. There is absolutely no narrative tension, the characters are cardboard cliches, and the entire thing is one huge Fantasy Trope enacted in McEurope. It is not, however, actively horrifying or insulting, so I suppose that's something.
Kathleen Bryan is actually the pseudonym of Judith Tarr, which explains a great deal.
Strength and Honor by RM Meluch. The tenuous alliance between the reborn Roman Empire and the United States has been broken, and war breaks out between them once more. Farragut, the American captain of the USS Merrimack, is forced to fight the Romans on one flank and the continuing menace of the Hive on the other. Meanwhile, his head Marine, TR Steele, is forced into gladiatorial games on Palatine, and must fight his way to freedom. The battles between Rome and the US are thrilling, if a bit slapdash. In the last three books, Caesar Romulus was nearly a genius--abruptly, he becomes a sister-schtupping fool. It is only *because* he suddenly starts making idiotic choices that the US manages to win. I found the other half of the plot even more annoying, because I tired of Steele after the first book. He is the most annoying, sexist, macho cliche ever, and I hate having to read his adventures, in which everyone is always astounded at his physical power and manliness. Whatever, Meluch.
In the end, all the plots are resolved and all the characters marry their designated partner of the opposite sex and it's all very cheery.
Non-plot but still spoilery annoyances in white below:
For four books, Meluch made a great deal of the unresolved sexual tension between Farragut and his colleague, the very married Lieutenant Hamilton. Every book, Hamilton's marriage broke a little more and her intimacy with Farragut progressed a little further. And then, randomly, in the last chapter, Farragut meets some 20 year old in a bar and marries her 9 hours later. Every one thinks this is a great choice. The author seems to think this is a great choice. Why spend *so* much time building up Farragut/Hamilton, only to introduce a random new character in the last few pages?
I wasn't emotionally invested in Farragut/Hamilton, but it seemed so obvious that the author would get them together eventually. What I knew would ever deepen, but nevertheless felt entranced by, was the relationship between Farragut and the brilliant undead patterner, Augustus. The uneasy alliance between their governments forced them to work together, but it was Farragut's unending goodness and Augustus's wary but receptive intelligence that made them bestest friends. They knew that at any moment their governments could declare war and they would be forced to kill each other, but they clung to the little shreds of friendship they had while they had them. And then (HUGE SPOILERS AHOY)
Augustus randomly dies, off-screen? And Farragut marries some chick? It's very anticlimactic! Augustus was a main character for three books--why kill him in such an off-handed manner? Very weird.
Fiction
A Royal Pain by Rhys Bowen. Another charming murder mystery from Bowen. Lady Georgiana has perfect manners and is related to Crowned Heads, but she hasn't two beans to rub together. So when Queen Mary asks her to play hostess to a Bavarian princess, Georgie knows she'll have to be very clever indeed. But pretending to be wealthy turns out to be much easier than keeping an eye on the wild princess...or keeping ahead of the police. Because, you see, people keep turning up dead.
Royal Flush by Rhys Bowen. Near-fatal accidents keep almost befalling the royal family--could someone be attempting assassination? Lady Georgie is on the case, but keeps getting sidetracked by her tangled romantic feelings. In the end, she figures it out, and the killer confesses and then dies by their own hand, just to make it as tidy as possible. The charm of these mysteries is beginning to wear off--there's so little to them. They're the literary equivalent of cream-puffs.
The Winter Garden Mystery by Carola Dunn. The Honorable Daisy Dalyrymple is visiting an old school chum while writing about her ancestral home when a body is discovered in the garden. Although the local police are happy to pin the housemaid's murder on her young foreign swain, Daisy has doubts. She calls in her childhood friend Philip Petrie and her new friend, Alec Fletcher of Scotland Yard, to help her investigate. Who killed Grace? Was it the beautiful but spineless heir who had gotten her pregnant? His best friend, the jealous Ben? His devoted sister, manipulative mother, or cowardly father? Grace's father or fiance? Or was it the travelling salesman who was seen talking to her only hours before she was killed? There are no physical clues. Only Daisy's stubborn will and insight into human nature can help her solve this case.
This is not as good as the first Daisy mystery, Death at Wentwater Court. The main characters have already been introduced, so Dunn spends less time drawing them out. The murder itself is not one of those incredibly convoluted schemes that takes the latest forensic tech to solve. It is just a basic small village murder, and is simply solved by buying rounds of drinks at the village pub and interviewing suspects. The real delight to these books is the 1920s themselves, which Dunn draws with a deft and light hand. Reminders of a depressed economy, rumbles of discontent against the upper classes, growing independence for women, and the damages of the first World War are woven throughout. And the characters themselves are fresh and breezy. Daisy has a great deal of spirit and sympathy, but as smart and kind as she is, she is still very much a product of her upbringing--she can't bring herself to shingle her hair, or stop grouping people according to class. This is, overall, a murder as cozy as a murder can be, and well worth the few hours it will take to read.
Non-Fiction
The Deadly Dinner Party by Jonathon Edlow. Stories of unusual diseases and unexpected outbreaks. The problem is, this is a pretty well-trodden subject, and Edlow doesn't add anything to it. He's got some interesting anecdotes, but his writing is flighty and scattered. Too many tangents; not enough new material. It's not bad, but there are better books out there in medical-mystery-land.
Spiced by Dalia Jurgenson. Jurgensen gives a brief, clearly ghost-written story of her years as a pastry chef. The material itself is good, but hindered by the lackluster prose and lack of detail or emotional impact. I wish the book spent more time on the cooking and less time on her boyfriends.