There is a Door in This Darkness, by Kristin Cashore

I was immediately interested in Kristin Cashore's new novel, because she's a wonderful writer,  and I loved her fantasy novels Graceling, Fire and Bitterblue. (I have not yet read the last two in the series, because Bitterblue was a little heavy, and I've been looking for lighter novels for a few years now. Since 2020, in fact.) 

The title of this one gave me pause, and the premise even more so. Was I ready to read a book set during the pandemic? It turns out the answer was yes, if the book was this one.

The blurb for this book is accurate but doesn't in any way do it justice. It's much more than "magic-tinged," and it's a lot more wise, hopeful and whimsical than it sounds. Wilhelmina is such a real, relatable character, and so are all the members of her family and her friends, and their relationships—all the relationships—make this book glow. I use the word deliberately, because light is a theme and a motif running through the book—if there's a door in the darkness, light is what's coming in.

I'm not sure magical realism is quite the right way to categorize this book. In my own less-than-rigorous definition, magical realism doesn't have any explanation for the fantastical elements. In this book, the fantastical is random and quirky, involving birds and doughnuts and obelisks, [ever-so-slightly spoilery] but there is also mention of tarot, and grandparents who are "practitioners of the craft." I wouldn't say this book is about witches or Wicca or any particular mythology or spiritual tradition—more that it recognizes "there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio," and the fantastical elements are representative metaphors. (Which kind of aligns with magical realism; I think I'll stop trying to define anything!)

However you define it, the magic was fun: it worked as a beautiful metaphor but also to drive the plot in almost a treasure-hunt-y way. 

This is another book with three aunts (see A Sorceress Comes to Call), and I have to say I won't soon tire of this trope! Wilhelmina's aunts were just lovely. The narration alternates between present day (Oct 2020) and childhood summers spent at the aunts' big house in the country, and it really does feel like "her life was a string of lights, one for every summer she'd spent with them." Then there are the friends, Julie and Bee, and what an exquisite and realistic portrayal of friendship! The dips into the past allow us to watch the friendship form and develop and to fall in love with all three children as they grow up. We even get a romance, which I won't spoil! All the kinds of love (there are siblings and parents too) and all the ways love is hard, and rewarding, and all the ways the pandemic made love both harder and more rewarding.

If you think you might be ready to read a book set during the pandemic, at the time of the 2020 election, then this might be a good book to start with. It acknowledges the stress, fear, frustration, loss and utter weirdness of that time, specifically of being a teenager at that time, and it offers a way to process. It's not a particularly subtle book, but I think the theme of finding light in the darkness, of balancing realism with hope, is one we need to be hit over the head with!

The Spellshop, by Sarah Beth Durst

The Spellshop is an utter delight of a sweet, satisfying girl-finds-friendship-love-community-and-magic story—and it is stressful as all heck! Do not be deceived by that warm, glowing cover (what a gorgeous cover!): this book begins with a library on fire, and the tension doesn’t let up. I was seriously worried, ok?  Because Kiela and Caz and the weird and wonderful inhabitants of Caltrey need to be safe and happy and thriving, and it's touch-and-go there for a while. 

Personally, I think Sarah Beth Durst cheated. Knowing that her readers probably like books, she made her main character a librarian saving books from a fire. So we have to like her! Kiela is actually a really interesting character, because, other than saving the books, she's not particularly likeable. Introverted to the point of shunning all human contact, paranoid and suspicious (for very good reasons, yes), she makes things hard for herself by building walls between her and everyone who could help her. The tension of whether and how those walls will be torn down is added to—and gradually supplants—the tension of is she being chased? will they find her? what will they do to her when they do? And once she starts caring about more people the stakes just keep going up, because now it's not just the books and Caz at risk.

Caz might be the best thing about this book. Durst is excellent at creating magical sidekicks, and Caz is fighting with Monster (from The Girl Who Could Not Dream) for first place in my heart. (Might have to reread Dream and get back to you on that.) Caz certainly wins for most unique; also I love that the talking plant created by a rogue librarian is a spider plant—what library would be with out one!

The romance is possibly a little too perfect, but we didn't come to this book looking for realism, did we? We came because we wanted a guy who builds bookshelves and keeps secrets, respects boundaries but is patient enough to coax Kiela out of her thorn-encased heart.

I thought the resolution was interesting and satisfying—I won't spoil anything, but it was nice to see alternate ways of handling conflict.

Sarah Beth Durst is a wonderfully diverse writer—The Spellshop is different again from anything else she's written—and I look forward to seeing what she comes up with next!

A Sorceress Comes to Call, by T. Kingfisher

T. Kingfisher has written a Regency romance! Well, sort of. As she says in her Afterword, it "isn't technically a Regency, but it's in the same ballpark, right?" Though most Regencies have "fewer reanimated dead horses."

What she's actually done is a complete reimagining of The Goose Girl—which is such an interesting fairy tale! There have been so many versions, from Shannon Hale's The Goose Girl to Intisar Khanani's Thorn, but there seems always to be something new to say about it, and whoo, boy, does Kingfisher find new things to say!

I don't want to say too much about this novel's relationship to the fairy tale, because part of the fun of reading was figuring out which characters were which and how she transformed some core elements to fit into her "Regency" setting. The juxtaposition of rather terrifying sorcery with ladies taking tea was at times hilarious and at times deeply disturbing!

(Kingfisher likes horror, and she seems to be playing a lot more with it these days. I can't read her novels that are actually horror; this one was fine for me, but be warned, it's serious when it says dark. Not YA, or, at least, not for younger or sensitive readers.)

The ladies taking tea: possibly my favourite part of the story was the friendship between Hester, Penelope and Imogene. Three middle-aged women forging three different paths to independence through the ridiculousness of social mores (and, yeah, Kingfisher is no doubt doing something with the three Fates or whatever, but I was just so delighted to have three completely different characters with important plot roles, none of whom played into any of the older woman stereotypes of the genre, that I didn't care if they symbolized anything!) They were so much fun! (There isn't a female version of the word "avuncular" and there should be: these were aunties of the best sort—and they weren't even defined by their relationship to the young protagonist.) 

Hester is a protagonist in her own right, and isn't that another interesting thing: a fairy tale/Regency romance (sort of) with a young woman protagonist and an older woman with equal protagonismos. Hester has a brother who needs rescuing, and she calls in her friends who come at once, no questions asked. And when they realize that Cordelia (the young protagonist) needs rescuing, there is no hesitation from any of them despite the danger. I love these women!

The sorceress of the title is a heartless villain and Cordelia's mother. Great, great opening scene that defines their relationship and the mother's villainy and creates this undercurrent of fear that runs through the whole book. This isn't a villain who can be defied with impunity. (Have I repeated the word villain too many times? Because she's a doozy of one, just saying!) She's also vain, shallow and greedy, and the juxtaposition of her power with her petty desires is, well, terrifying. (IMHO she didn't need any kind of nuanced backstory: she's what you'd get if all of those conspiring side-characters in Regency romances had vast sorcerous power. Shudder!)

Cordelia could be compared easily to the eponymous heroine of Thorn: she is rendered helpless by her circumstances but she finds tiny ways to fight back, especially when she realizes who else is going to suffer from her mother's all-encompassing selfishness. It's lovely to see her recognize selflessness in others and trust in her own empathy as a power that might be greater than sorcery.

Is there romance? There is, in fact, and it's sweet and lovely and not at all the point of the story. The ending is satisfying on many levels, and the romance is sort of the cherry on top!

No one is as wonderfully weird as T. Kingfisher (well, Ursula Vernon probably is, but she manages to rein it in for her younger audiences!) This one is weird, wonderful, terrifying and hilarious, and you will never look at geese (or horses) the same way again!

Liberty's Daughter, by Naomi Kritzer

 Hope you all had a marvellous summer! When I wasn't backpacking or hiking or at music camp, I was rereading the Vorkosigan series by Lois McMaster Bujold, following along with this delightful blog. Lois herself is going to appear on the last episode, airing sometime this month!

Naomi Kritzer is becoming an auto-buy author for me. I first encountered her with the short story "Little Free Library," on Tor.com—a delightful, sweet, but also deep and moving story. Then I happened to read Catfishing on CatNet (my review at the link) and its sequel Chaos on CatNet, without realizing it was the same author. Kritzer has this way of seeing our current society with ruthless clarity that she translates into fun, entertaining spec fic with a hidden punch.

Liberty's Daughter is another plausible near-future scenario: what if a bunch of libertarians decided to hook some sea-platforms and old cruise ships together to create a sea-stead in international waters? (It's plausible because people have already tried to do it. Great story!) I love that Kritzer is able to envision all the nitty-gritty logistics of how such a living arrangement would work. Limited availability of just about everything, for example, leading to our MC's part-time job: finding very specific items for people and negotiating trades. Really great world-building here.

Kritzer is also cognizant of all the unpleasant maintenance jobs that someone is going to have to do, and her story hinges on the debt-slavery that is a sadly plausible solution. Beck Garrison is a privileged teenager because of her father's position, and until she's asked to help find someone's missing sister, she is naive about her narrow little world. But when she discovers nefarious dealings, she plows ahead determinedly to investigate the literal and figurative underbelly of the sea-stead. 

Everything about this book is just so interesting. The fast-paced plot pinballs through all sections of the unique setting and society, exploring a raft (get it?) of physical, political and social implications. Kritzer's critique is funny, nuanced and ultimately hopeful. Yes, people can be greedy and selfish and cruel, but they can also pull together and care for each other and stand up for each other. And human ingenuity can solve as many problems as it creates!

Beck might be a bit too confident and capable to be believable, but it sure is fun watching her bulldoze her way through greed, corruption and incompetence. She has some genuine dilemmas; her character growth isn't huge but it's satisfying. The bad guys aren't flatly evil, either. 

Thoroughly enjoyable, and I look forward to seeing what aspect of society Krizter will choose to poke at next! 

You might enjoy her discussion of the genesis of the book on John Scalzi's blog, but be warned, it's fairly spoilery.

MMGM: Duet, by Elise Broach

If you are musical at all, if you like the piano, if you like Chopin—then I have two strong recommendations for you. The first is this wonderful book by Elise Broach about a goldfinch and a young pianist (and a mystery about a piano).

It's been ten years since I posted about the last Elise Broach book I read, Masterpiece, which is about a beetle and a young artist and Albrecht Durer. I was impressed enough by that book that when I saw her name on a book spine at the library, I immediately took it home.

Broach has a wonderful way of introducing young readers to art and music with such compelling storytelling that the reader never realizes how much they are learning! In the case of Duet, we have the characters of Mirabelle, a young goldfinch with a gift for singing, and Michael, a gifted young pianist who doesn't want a new piano teacher. Mirabelle becomes Michael's muse, singing as he plays and inspiring him to play even better. The description of the music is beautiful and inviting: I looked up the Chopin pieces mentioned so that I could hear what they sounded like! Mirabelle and Michael's friendship is believable and sweet—they can't speak to each other, (Mirabelle is a precocious bird, but still just a bird) but they communicate nonetheless, and each fills a void in the other's life

There is a whole cast of engaging supporting characters, both bird and human. Mirabelle's bird family is a delight! Mr. Starek the piano teacher has his own little story arc, and it's lovely to see everyone coming together to help him in different ways. The mystery of a famous lost piano is solved by Mirabelle and her brothers, and Michael has a satisfying journey developing his piano talent.

A beautiful, uplifting story that will send readers out to find out more about Chopin, and might even inspire them to work on their own talent, whatever it is.

Then you can go watch an animated series on Netflix called Forest of Piano. It's the story of two piano students, one privileged and dedicated, the other with a wild, inherent talent but from the wrong side of the tracks. It follows them all the way from boyhood to teenagers competing in the International Chopin competition. It's a story of music, of friendship, of mentorship, of genius, and there is a lot of Chopin music played and explained. It's also a pretty good depiction of the stress of music competitions, which I could relate to! (From Kiwanis Festivals, not Chopin competitions!) The soundtrack was played by Vladimir Ashkenazy, and the animators did a fantastic job of animating the fingers playing the piano!

Marvelous Middle-Grade Monday has been a running feature for more than a decade now, highlighting great middle-grade reads every week. Be sure to head to Greg Pattridge's blog to see this week's collection.

A Year's Worth of Reading

Time to talk about books again! It's not that I haven't been reading at all this past year, but other areas of my life have gotten a lot busier (as often happens when you say yes to opportunities!). April is an odd time to do a Reading Roundup, but time is arbitrary, and here we are. (This is mostly for my own benefit, anyway.) Divided into star ratings but otherwise in no particular order. (I should point out that most of these are adult books; I was in a bit of a children's lit slump the past year, but I am currently rectifying that: stay tuned!)

5 Star Reads (Loved to pieces, would read again)

Scholomance series, Naomi Novik. Y'all were right, it's awsome!

Lessons in Chemistry, Bonnie Garmus. Worth the hype.

Begin Again, When You Get the Chance, Tweet Cute, by Emma Lord. All her romances are the best.

4 Star Reads (Really enjoyed, might read again, will seek out this author)

The Undertaking of Hart and Mercy, Megan Bannan. Unique and fun, with heart (ha ha).

Jennifer Crusie: a whole bunch of her rom-coms; I just love them all.

Olivia Atwater: Regency and Victorian Fairy Tales. I think I've read them all now. They're so much fun!

Brandon Sanderson: The Way of Kings, Tress of the Emerald Sea. Figured I should see what he's all about. Imaginative world-building and propulsive plots—I'll read more.

Map of the Otherlands, Heather Fawcett. A worthy sequel to Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Fairies.

When Women Were Dragons, Kelly Barnhill. Fascinating, angry.

Whispering Woods, Sharon Shinn. Latest in her Elemental Blessings series, which I love.

Kate Stradling: Deathmark, Maid and Minstrel. Fairy tale retellings. I love everything she writes.

Happy City, Charles Montgomery. The one non-fiction on my list. Urban design fascinates me.

Thornhedge, T. Kingfisher. Sleeping beauty remix. Loved the main character.

Gothel and the Maiden Prince, W. R. Gingell. Rapunzel remix, similar in feeling to Thornhedge. My first but not my last by this author.

Annette Marie: The Guild Codex series. Signed up for Kindle Unlimited to get access to the dozens of books in this entertaining urban fantasy series. Bonus: set in Vancouver! Very fun and readable.

3 Star Books (Enjoyed, might read more by the author)

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, V. E. Schwab. Interesting and well-written.

The Kiss Quotient, Helen Hoang

The Bodyguard, Karen Center

Ali Hazelwood: Love on the Brain, The Love Hypothesis

Little Thieves, Margaret Owen

Emily Wilde's Encylopaedia of Fairies, by Heather Fawcett

Well, this was an utter delight! All the hype I’ve been hearing about Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries is justified. It’s funny, clever, atmospheric, sweet and beautifully-written. Emily and Wendell are fantastic characters, and their relationship is a treat.

I should start by saying I’m not a huge fan of Faerie. Beautiful but cruel aren’t characteristics I’m interested in, and I find most books about the fae boring or distasteful. Emily’s fairies, though, are fascinating, intriguing, fun—while still often being beautiful and cruel, and fitting in perfectly with familiar legends and lore.

Most of the book’s appeal is down to Emily herself, the “curmudgeonly professor” with her single-minded pursuit of fairy scholarship. I love the idea of “dryadology”! Practical, intelligent, introverted and awkward around people but confident and clever while studying the Fair Folk “in the field,” Emily narrates the story in hilariously academic prose, complete with footnotes. Her ostensibly objective, multisyllabic discourse does nothing to hide her feelings from the reader, however, and she charmed me as completely as she ultimately charms every other character (and, yes, the metaphor of enchantment is intentional!)

Wendell I will not spoil for you; you’ll just have to meet him yourself when he swans in with his minions in tow and upends Emily’s painstaking plans.

I get a grin on my face just thinking about these two and their exasperation with each other!

All the characters jump off the page; every one of the villagers a distinct individual. And the wintry northern landscape is a character in its own right. I am quite convinced that Hrafnsvik is a real place and the Hidden Folk really do live in those mountains.

There's also a great dog!

A satisfying conclusion, with the promise of another book to come. I am hooked on Emily and can’t wait to see what other surprises she has up her sleeve!

Heather Fawcett is Canadian, by the way: I'm happy to claim her as a British Columbian!

Don't forget to tell me about your favourite dragon in the comments on my previous post, and you could win a free e-book. (Contest open until June 30, 2023)