..in (temporary) conclusion
Mar. 30th, 2008 05:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cyphomandraI should have paid more attention to the blurb on this, which uses the phrases "an intelligent boy on the edge of sexuality" and "a sensual world ruled by an alien intelligence" and translated them into "group sex with aliens on page 21", which would have stopped me from trying to read this at the hairdresser and having to rapidly abandon it for ageing issues of Hello. Anyway. Learn from my experience. Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Catalyst. This was, in fact, a madly frustrating book. I've reviewed A Fistful of Sky here earlier, which I liked a lot but left me baffled at my apparent inability to spot lesbian subtext; that, however, at least had an ending, something which Catalyst has failed to be provided with. What it does have is a fascinating set-up - a half-settled, toxic, world that turns out to contain aliens with amazing technology, conflicts of class and politics with indentured workers (some of whom have to play host to alien plant parasites for money) and the wealthy, augmented with poisonous defences - and an alarmingly passive main character, Kaslin.
Kaslin has a deeply disturbing relationship with his classmate, Histly, who is stronger than he is and likes holding him down and kissing him while poisoning him with her bioengineered fingertip poisons; although she relates far less well to the aliens than Kaslin does, she quickly takes control of Kaslin, buying his work contract, seeing him as a tool and a resource. They have sex as well, although always on Histly's terms, and Kaslin goes along with whatever she wants from him. I kept expecting some sort of rebellion, or twist, or something, but then suddenly the book ends, with this from the last page:
"Histly thought she owned him; aliens did whatever they wanted to him, and called him their creature. His father sold him without asking.
It made a change from being ignored."
which depresses and appalls me more every time I read it. I am really not sure what Hoffman was going for with this book, but I hope she tries something else next time.
Ysabeau S Wilce, Flora Segunda.
I liked this quite a lot, although not as much as I hoped to, some of which is certainly due to my own biases (the relevant ones here being against pirates and for stuff with a less linear plot). But it does many things well - voice, Spanish-style worldbuilding, nifty house design, gender equality as default etc, but what I particularly liked was the relationship between Flora and her father, Poppy, who is broken and far from sane; the bit where his past self meets Flora is all the more touching for being so understated, particularly when Flora realises her father doesn't even know she (Flora) is the second of that name, and he's thinking of the wrong daughter.
I liked Udo less, unfortunately, and the resolution of the main plot - via Lord Axacaya - didn't entirely work for me (as I've said, the plot felt too linear, whereas ideally what I want is one of those devious clockwork ones where suddenly everything comes together at the end), but I've just been flicking back through this and the Poppy plotline is so well done that I'm feeling more fondly about the whole book. I gather a sequel is relatively imminent; I think it'll be interesting to see where it goes.
Frank Beddor, The Looking-Glass Wars. I distrust things that describe themselves as a property rather than a book, but this prejudice aside, I still have problems with the book, both in itself and in relationship to Carroll's Alice books. The intro to this suggests that it is the "real story" behind the Alice books, emphasising that it is much darker, bloody etc than the originals, which I think really fails to recognise that the original books, while whimsical and light in some respects, are also capable of deeply sad (particularly the White Knight) and scary moments, all of which are earnt by much better writing and characterisation than is seen here. This does have a relatively fast pace and some interesting ideas (the queendom, the looking-glass maze, the millinery shock troops) but never quite works as well as I think the author expects it to - the maze, for example, feels far too easy after the build-up and is much less strong as a concept than the one in the Jane Langton book (I've forgotten if it's Swing in the Summerhouse or Diamond in the Window) where the characters must choose different reflections that lead them towards possible future selves. I would probably read the second one (it is, of course a trilogy, in yet another failure to deal with the original books) but I wouldn't pay for it.
Stephen Donaldson, Fatal Revenant. Second book in the third chronicles. There are an awful lot of Covenant dislikers out there, most of whom complain about either Donaldson's writing style (although it is, at least, a deliberate stylistic choice - his short stories, particularly Mythological Beast and that other one in the same collection with the gun-wielding bunnies - possibly Animal Lover? - are perfectly effective without a single "puissant", "exigency" or "telic") or his protagonist and I do agree that it's one thing to abstractedly contemplate the ethical obligations on one's actions in an imaginary world and quite another to be expected to identify with a protagonist who rapes a teenage girl.
I will also agree that the first chronicles have quite a bit of Plot Couponing going on, but where I'm really going with this commentary, which was much more praiseworthy in my head, are the second chronicles, which I think are brilliant and do a lot of really interesting things with the standard fantasy tropes. Particularly in relation to power, where as Covenant becomes more powerful he is less able to act, for fear of destroying what he's trying to save, but the set-up of the second chronicles - the "how do you hurt a man who's lost everything? Give him back something broken," with the Land suffering under the Sunbane, and its protectors warped into destroyers, is also chillingly effective. Also, I really like Linden, who is (in a number of very specific ways that rule out all the bits where this is completely inappropriate) a kind of fictional role model for me. And I like Nom (the Sandgorgon), although I don't think I've managed to base anything useful on him.
Anyway. My mad fondness for the second chronicles meant that I was very iffy about the idea of the third ones and, two books in, I'm tipping more towards the "not a good thing" opinion. There are some good things in this book - the piece with the earthquake under Melenkurion Skyweir; the loss of the Mahdoubt; Jeremiah; the charging about through time via the caesures that sees the characters tromping across frozen mountains to the camp of Berek Halfhand, of all people - but the basic pattern of the book is for Linden to go somewhere and get half-answers out of somebody that lead her to more questions, and although she does act on the basis of these shreds of information, it's still a very reactive plotline, and it's only in the final chapter where I actually really need to know what happens next (which will, of course, involve waiting for the next book). Some of the characters work - the giants showing up towards the end were a particular relief - but some don't - Stave, Liand and argh, one of the female Cords whose name currently escapes me (I left the book behind after my last trip to save weight) feel like caricatures of themselves, and apart from the Madoubt the Insequent aren't really working for me, although making the Guardian of the One Tree one of them is a great idea.
One thing Donaldson does consistently well is the sense of place - I mentioned the Sunbane above, and it has real, physical effects on the landscapes that the characters suffer through, and you get that here throughout, whether it's snow or jungle or rock; there's weather as well, and ongoing tangible interactions with the environment. One of the reasons I'm not reading much fantasy at the moment was a disinclination to read yet another city-bound fantasy that appeared to take place in an environment with no weather or seasons, with all the characters disconnected from any of the everyday inconveniences of drafts or leaks or annoyingly early sunlight, made all the more unlikely by various pathetic fallacy reinforcing storms whenever the characters need a moment to brood.
I will read the next one, but I think I'm already mentally partitioning these off from the second chronicles. I'm prepared to give him one more book, tho'.
Kaslin has a deeply disturbing relationship with his classmate, Histly, who is stronger than he is and likes holding him down and kissing him while poisoning him with her bioengineered fingertip poisons; although she relates far less well to the aliens than Kaslin does, she quickly takes control of Kaslin, buying his work contract, seeing him as a tool and a resource. They have sex as well, although always on Histly's terms, and Kaslin goes along with whatever she wants from him. I kept expecting some sort of rebellion, or twist, or something, but then suddenly the book ends, with this from the last page:
"Histly thought she owned him; aliens did whatever they wanted to him, and called him their creature. His father sold him without asking.
It made a change from being ignored."
which depresses and appalls me more every time I read it. I am really not sure what Hoffman was going for with this book, but I hope she tries something else next time.
Ysabeau S Wilce, Flora Segunda.
I liked this quite a lot, although not as much as I hoped to, some of which is certainly due to my own biases (the relevant ones here being against pirates and for stuff with a less linear plot). But it does many things well - voice, Spanish-style worldbuilding, nifty house design, gender equality as default etc, but what I particularly liked was the relationship between Flora and her father, Poppy, who is broken and far from sane; the bit where his past self meets Flora is all the more touching for being so understated, particularly when Flora realises her father doesn't even know she (Flora) is the second of that name, and he's thinking of the wrong daughter.
I liked Udo less, unfortunately, and the resolution of the main plot - via Lord Axacaya - didn't entirely work for me (as I've said, the plot felt too linear, whereas ideally what I want is one of those devious clockwork ones where suddenly everything comes together at the end), but I've just been flicking back through this and the Poppy plotline is so well done that I'm feeling more fondly about the whole book. I gather a sequel is relatively imminent; I think it'll be interesting to see where it goes.
Frank Beddor, The Looking-Glass Wars. I distrust things that describe themselves as a property rather than a book, but this prejudice aside, I still have problems with the book, both in itself and in relationship to Carroll's Alice books. The intro to this suggests that it is the "real story" behind the Alice books, emphasising that it is much darker, bloody etc than the originals, which I think really fails to recognise that the original books, while whimsical and light in some respects, are also capable of deeply sad (particularly the White Knight) and scary moments, all of which are earnt by much better writing and characterisation than is seen here. This does have a relatively fast pace and some interesting ideas (the queendom, the looking-glass maze, the millinery shock troops) but never quite works as well as I think the author expects it to - the maze, for example, feels far too easy after the build-up and is much less strong as a concept than the one in the Jane Langton book (I've forgotten if it's Swing in the Summerhouse or Diamond in the Window) where the characters must choose different reflections that lead them towards possible future selves. I would probably read the second one (it is, of course a trilogy, in yet another failure to deal with the original books) but I wouldn't pay for it.
Stephen Donaldson, Fatal Revenant. Second book in the third chronicles. There are an awful lot of Covenant dislikers out there, most of whom complain about either Donaldson's writing style (although it is, at least, a deliberate stylistic choice - his short stories, particularly Mythological Beast and that other one in the same collection with the gun-wielding bunnies - possibly Animal Lover? - are perfectly effective without a single "puissant", "exigency" or "telic") or his protagonist and I do agree that it's one thing to abstractedly contemplate the ethical obligations on one's actions in an imaginary world and quite another to be expected to identify with a protagonist who rapes a teenage girl.
I will also agree that the first chronicles have quite a bit of Plot Couponing going on, but where I'm really going with this commentary, which was much more praiseworthy in my head, are the second chronicles, which I think are brilliant and do a lot of really interesting things with the standard fantasy tropes. Particularly in relation to power, where as Covenant becomes more powerful he is less able to act, for fear of destroying what he's trying to save, but the set-up of the second chronicles - the "how do you hurt a man who's lost everything? Give him back something broken," with the Land suffering under the Sunbane, and its protectors warped into destroyers, is also chillingly effective. Also, I really like Linden, who is (in a number of very specific ways that rule out all the bits where this is completely inappropriate) a kind of fictional role model for me. And I like Nom (the Sandgorgon), although I don't think I've managed to base anything useful on him.
Anyway. My mad fondness for the second chronicles meant that I was very iffy about the idea of the third ones and, two books in, I'm tipping more towards the "not a good thing" opinion. There are some good things in this book - the piece with the earthquake under Melenkurion Skyweir; the loss of the Mahdoubt; Jeremiah; the charging about through time via the caesures that sees the characters tromping across frozen mountains to the camp of Berek Halfhand, of all people - but the basic pattern of the book is for Linden to go somewhere and get half-answers out of somebody that lead her to more questions, and although she does act on the basis of these shreds of information, it's still a very reactive plotline, and it's only in the final chapter where I actually really need to know what happens next (which will, of course, involve waiting for the next book). Some of the characters work - the giants showing up towards the end were a particular relief - but some don't - Stave, Liand and argh, one of the female Cords whose name currently escapes me (I left the book behind after my last trip to save weight) feel like caricatures of themselves, and apart from the Madoubt the Insequent aren't really working for me, although making the Guardian of the One Tree one of them is a great idea.
One thing Donaldson does consistently well is the sense of place - I mentioned the Sunbane above, and it has real, physical effects on the landscapes that the characters suffer through, and you get that here throughout, whether it's snow or jungle or rock; there's weather as well, and ongoing tangible interactions with the environment. One of the reasons I'm not reading much fantasy at the moment was a disinclination to read yet another city-bound fantasy that appeared to take place in an environment with no weather or seasons, with all the characters disconnected from any of the everyday inconveniences of drafts or leaks or annoyingly early sunlight, made all the more unlikely by various pathetic fallacy reinforcing storms whenever the characters need a moment to brood.
I will read the next one, but I think I'm already mentally partitioning these off from the second chronicles. I'm prepared to give him one more book, tho'.
no subject
Date: 2025-07-25 11:51 am (UTC)I got here via site search, and it's really nice to meet someone with really similar opinions on Second and Last Chronicles to myself! I read in your "stephen donaldson" tag that you haven't bothered reading the last two books, and having read them myself, I think that's a wise choice (mostly because the mass of new plot elements attains rather large proportions, because there's so very much introspection, and because most of the plot is stuck in the fourth book).
I quite agree on the sense of place as well; beyond the weather, Donaldson always takes care to describe just what the place looks like, which really helps with visualising it.