Book round-up: April 2021

[sixthlight]

A bunch of books I had been hanging out for came through from my library reserves this month and saved me from a book I was dutifully slogging my way through for lack of better options. Still mad about Macmillan’s whole “no library ebooks until two months after the release date” policy though. Fuck you, Macmillan.

The Angel of the Crows (Katherine Addison)

This was described to me by friends as “the Sherlock wingfic” and I got one chapter in and was like “oh wow they were not kidding” and then got to the end and found out the author literally describes it as such in the author’s note, so...it certainly is that. But in a good way! It’s very much ACD Holmes not Sherlock, and it does some very fun and interesting worldbuilding things with its urban fantasy milieu versions of the original short stories. My only major criticism was that it integrates a Holmes-and-Watson-hunt-Jack-the-Ripper plot in a way that feels a bit tacked on. This despite the fact it had the perfect AU-related opportunity to explain why this Holmes and Watson are so determined to hunt the Ripper and it...does not take it. Why do that work and not stick the landing?

The Ruthless Lady's Guide To Wizardry (C M Waggoner)

Sequel to Unnatural Magic, a secondary-world fantasy f/f romance/mystery plot following a group of women who are hired to act as bodyguards to a bride-to-be, which is only the tip of the shenanigan iceberg. A really excellent example of how to write a next-generation sequel that doesn’t undermine your original work, filled with the same humour and warmth. It also absolutely nails for the main character, in a way fantasy rarely does, what it means to try to survive poverty. Also the f/f romance is basically Butch Lady Bertie Wooster x Disaster Bisexual Con Artist and it’s a DELIGHT.

Black Sun (Rebecca Roanhorse)

Secondary-world epic fantasy with a setting based on pre-Columbian Central and North America; a ship captain, a high priestess, and the chosen vessel of a god are all on a collision course to the day of a significant eclipse. A little like the previous book, it’s very interested in poverty and inequality and the things people do to survive; it adds cycles of revenge and fairness, and also mermaids and kickass magical giant crows. A total rollercoaster of a read which ends on Quite A Cliffhanger. I am deeply invested in whatever comes next. Good chance to take out the Best Novel Hugo, I reckon.

On A Red Station, Drifting and The Citadel of Weeping Pearls (Aliette de Bodard)
Two novellas in de Bodard’s Xuya universe, a far-future sci-fi setting of mindships and space stations. A little more melancholy than Seven of Infinities. Like all her work these stories are both very concerned with politics, poetry, memory, family, and duty, and the sensory descriptions of food and place are hugely evocative. I definitely recommend reading in the order listed as one spoils the ending a little for the other, though the plots are not directly linked.

We Ride The Storm (Devin Madson)

Slogged my way through to 20% and was rescued when I mainlined Hench (next) in a day and realised I Did Not Care. Epic secondary-world fantasy which honestly feels like it’s trying to be Game of Thrones but with more non-white and queer people. There’s a Very Edgy assassin/whore, and I say the second because that’s the word the book uses, a lot. There’s Noble Horse-Riding Nomads. There’s twin nobles in confusing political danger. It’s, you know...probably for someone who enjoys this genre. It wasn’t for me.

Hench (Natalie Zina Walschots)

Superhero-genre-adjacent fiction set in Generic North American city; the lead is a low-level henchwoman (data entry, mostly) temping for a series of supervillains until she is brutally injured by a superhero, has to spend months in bed recovering, starts doing the numbers on the costs of superheroics, and gets very, very angry at what she finds. It probably says something unfortunate that I found this incredibly relatable, because this is basically the story of her rise to super-villany, but...damn, this was good. It does not make the mistake of merely switching who is Good and Bad in a superhero world; it makes a compelling case that the whole system is rotten. It deliberately brings lenses of queerness and disability, too.

Its only big misstep is making a major secondary character a Māori woman with a moko kauae and then giving her a story that does not touch on her indigenous identity at all, even as it hones in on how her self-identity has been damaged by her superhero career. I’ll be honest, I don’t think the author (a white Canadian) would have the chops to tell that story well - but it means the whole character arc feels incomplete to me and, bluntly, like it’s being used for diversity points without actually considering who the character would be, or why she would be a superhero in Generic North American City. It doesn’t ruin the rest of the book but it’s thoughtless.

In addition, big warning for body horror which ramps up as the book goes on, of the ‘taking superpowers to their logical conclusions’ kind.

The Doors of Eden (Adrian Tchaikovsky)

Tchaikovsky continues his career writing, basically, Books Stephen Baxter Might Have Written If He’d Ever Met A Human Woman. In this one British intelligence agents (and two slightly hapless cryptid-hunting lesbian teenagers) start to discover that portals are opening up between our world and...not alien worlds...but Earths where other species rose to intelligence. Also, the world might be about to end. Absolutely fascinating from an imaginary biology perspective, and generally written with kindness to all its characters. Not as good as Children of Time but still a solid read.

The one warning I do need to give is that a major character is trans and Tchaikovsky has done the thing some cis male writers do where they’re like “I will show that these bad guys are Very Bad Indeed by having them be misogynists” but with sustained misgendering/transphobic harassment towards her as well as misogyny. I felt it crossed the line into possibly traumatising for trans readers and I wouldn’t feel comfortable recommending it without that caveat.

The World Before Us (Tom Higham)

An up-to-date take on what genomics and archaeology have told us over the last fifteen years about the human family tree and its - as we now know - many intersecting branches. Excellent and clearly-explained science, highly recommended if you’re interested in the subject. The author leans perhaps a little too heavily on anecdotes of the “I am buddies with all these other men who do this work” but it’s not intentionally doing this and he does take the time to identify grad students and credit them for their work, which is...a very low bar to cross but you’d be surprised how easy other people find it to not cross it.

Imagining Decolonisation (Bianca Elkington et al)

Five essays on what decolonisation might mean in the Aotearoa context, aimed at both a Māori and a Pākehā/tāngata tauiwi audience. Doesn’t pull punches but is mostly interested in figuring out ways to move forward; more or less essential reading for anybody living in this country who hasn’t figured this topic out (i.e. the vast majority of non-Māori). It’s not really aimed at a wider audience but still might be interesting as an example of how decolonisation is being discussed in a specific context.

The Address Book (Deidre Mask)

What are addresses, why do we even have them, and what happens when we don’t have them? The author is a Black American living in the UK and makes a fair stab at a genuinely global approach to the topic, and it’s very readable. Can’t say you shouldn’t miss it but if you’re in the mood for non-fiction about everyday aspects of life you could do much worse.

Farm and other F Words (Sarah Mock)

I backed the IndieGoGo for this book because I enjoy the author on Twitter, and this is basically an expansion of what she says there often: the entire American farming system is fatally flawed and it’s getting in the way of farming in ways that are good for the environment, for farm workers (as distinct from rural landowners), and for society. It is entirely focused on the American system but never pretends not to be, working through a series of profiles/case studies in search of the mythical Good Family Farm. Some of the lessons are still very applicable to farming systems in other countries, particularly other settler-colonial states. Worth a read if you’re interested in the topic of agricultural reform, or if you’re not and want to know more about where American food comes from.