Some Books I've Loved (Summer Recs!)
I’m late with this, but here
are some books I’ve recently loved. I hope that you, dear reader, might love
them, too.
The House of Binding Thorns by Aliette de Bodard
A year ago I read Aliette de
Bodard’s The House of Shattered Wings, her first book in the Dominion of the
Fallen series. I fell in love with her Gothic-tinged world of fallen angels and
Parisian ruins. The sequel, The House of Binding Thorns, is a worthy successor
that—dare I say it?--may be even better than the first.
The first novel was a taut,
atmospheric murder mystery set in House Silverspires. In the follow-up novel,
the action shifts to Silverspires’ rival, House Hawthorn. A few characters from
the first novel make their reappearance. Philippe, an outcast Vietnamese
Immortal, is trying to resurrect a dear (and dead) friend. Madeline, a mortal
alchemist addicted to angel essence (a drug which is the distillation of angel
magic), has been dragged reluctantly back to service in House Hawthorn, and is
simply trying to survive. The head of House Hawthorn, Asmodeus, is back and
sarcastic and cruel as ever. Much of this book, however, is given over to an
entirely new cast of characters. And while I was a bit sad at seeing so little
of Philippe, there is abundant recompense in these new characters. Thuan is a
badass dragon prince and spy who has infiltrated House Hawthorn under the guise
of a Houseless teenager of the streets. Francoise and Berith are two Houseless
lovers simply trying to survive: Francois is mortal (and heavily pregnant);
Berith is an ailing Fallen angel who may die before her mortal lover does. The
author’s world of magic and ruins is deepened and expanded in this sequel. The
watery dragon kingdom under the river Seine is more fully explored, and the
fates of the dragon kingdom and House Hawthorn become entwined. We also learn
more about the Vietnamese (termed “Annamite” in this book) diaspora community
in Paris. Indeed, for me one of the delights of this book is seeing the
strength of this human community, and how it enfolds both Philippe and
Francoise (and by extension, Francoise’s partner Berith).
A murder mystery was central
to the first novel of this series, The House of Shattered Wings. In the House
of Binding Thorns, de Bodard deftly juggles several
mysteries. Who is smuggling angel essence into the dragon kingdom? What is
really behind Asmodeus’ decision to ally with the dragon kingdom? Who is
kidnapping Vietnamese dockworkers and why? Dragon prince Thuan, human Madeline,
and others must play detective. Multiple factions battle for power,
double-crosses abound, and de Bodard cleverly ties together the different
narrative threads. As always, her prose is utterly gorgeous and richly
evocative. She moves smoothly from gritty urban realism to scenes of sweeping
magic and primal myth (the image of a carnivorous grove of trees is
particularly haunting).
As the action builds and
accelerates, I found myself reading the last third of the novel at a fast clip,
hardly able to put it down. Events sweep to an emotionally satisfying
conclusion. This is a wonderful read, as beautiful and brutal as the first
novel of the series, and with characters who may be even more emotionally
compelling.
*I have a crush on Thuan, that
sweet but badass dragon prince. His interactions with Asmodeus are delicious.
**Francoise and Berith are
wonderful.
***Madeline really comes into
her own. I confess that I found her viewpoint the least compelling in The House
of Shattered Wings, but she captured my heart in this book.
I’ve been a fan of Gwendolyn
Kiste since first discovering her dark fairy tale, “All the Red Apples Have Withered to Gray,” in the online pages of Shimmer. I was delighted to see her first collection
debut this spring. Kiste has a gift for braiding darkness with beauty, for
finding the arresting image and evocative line. There are fiercely retold fairy
tales in this collection, creeping horrors, a science-fiction dystopia,
and--amidst the darkness and fear--glimpses of freedom and light. “All the Red Apples Have Withered to Gray”
remains one of my personal favorites, but “The Tower Princesses” (which plays
with the tale of Rapunzel and tropes of trapped princesses in a contemporary
setting) tore at my heart. I loved the building tension in the science
fictional “The Five-Day Summer Camp.” I loved the way Kiste depicts body
horrors with beauty, as in her tale, “Skin Like Honey and Lace.” And I love her
exploration of painful emotional truths, as in her concluding tale, “The
Lazarus Bride.” Her stories vary in subject, but they are all united by her
immediately compelling voice. If you like darkness and tension illuminated with
gorgeous prose, this collection is for you.
Tender by
Sofia Samatar
Oh, and where do I begin with
Sofia Samatar? She is one of my writing heroes. Her novels, A Stranger in
Olondria and The Winged Histories, have truly changed the way I approach my own
writing (my review of The Winged Histories is here).
But she is master of the short form, too, and it was through her short stories
that I first found her. Her first collection, Tender, is everything I hoped
for, and more.
Samatar has the ability to
evoke entire worlds and character histories in a remarkably short space. The
first story, “Selkie Stories are for Losers" (which was nominated for multiple
awards) is a prime example of this. We never learn much of the narrator’s
mother, or of the mother-daughter relationship; the mother is a yawning absence
in the narrative as well as in the daughter’s heart. But we do feel that
absence, reflected and refracted through the daughter’s relationship with
another (emotionally) abandoned girl. The story deftly evokes whole emotional
worlds through rich, carefully chosen details within its brief space. Samatar
performs similar magic in tales such as “The Closest Thing to Animals” and “The
Red Thread”—but in these cases suggesting entire science-fictional near-future
worlds as well as character backgrounds.
Samatar’s stories range
through space and time: there are stories set in
contemporary America as well as historical pieces in America, Africa, and
Vienna. There are stories set in rich secondary fantasy worlds, and stories set
in the future. Samatar draws heavy inspiration from settings and histories in the
Middle East and Africa, but she also draws from a myriad of other influences.
While most of these stories
have been previously published, not all are easily available, and two of the
longer stories appear here for the first time. “An Account of the Land of
Witches” is gorgeous, strange, rich fantasy that becomes progressively more
surreal. And “Fallow” is a heart-breaking novella of survival in a future
colony on a distant planet.
While reading, I kept underlining
phrases that struck me:
“There is enough cruelty in
the world,” she told me softly, “to justify all the music ever made.” (“An
Account of the Land of Witches”)
There is no end to writing, I think, no end to
the project of rescue (“Fallow”)
These sentences are beautiful;
Samatar’s prose is always beautiful. But I think these particular sentences
also exemplify the humanity in Samatar’s work. There is the acknowledgement of
human suffering, along with the acknowledgement of beauty and art. There is the
concern with memory, stories, reclamation. “Fallow” is the longest story in the
collection, and perhaps the most heartrending. It’s a slow, rich read that only
gradually reveals the colony’s truth to the reader. And in its devastating last
lines, it pays tribute to human endurance, to the decision to endure despite
terrible and unavoidable loss.
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