juushika

Title: Zoo City
Author: Lauren Beukes
Published: Angry Robot, 2010
Rating: 2 of 5
Page Count: 400
Total Page Count: 323,585
Text Number: 1136
Read Because: bond animal trope, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: In a version of our world where murders are marked by their bond animals, one animalled woman takes on an ill-advised missing person case. I care a lot about the bond animal trope and dislike urban fantasy, and this didn't defy those predispositions. Bond animals are typically a wish-fulfillment trope, so this subversion is exciting—but that worldbuilding sits in the background, occasionally alluded to, frustrating unexplored: how do responsibility and guilt effect becoming animalled? is it punitive or reformative; can it be a source of comfort? The encyclopedia exposita is interesting but disjointed; in the body of the text the experience of the animalled is practical, physical. It gives the animals a narrative weight that compliments the trope inversion, but the lack of introspection or emotional bond makes it feel impersonal—and the prickly protagonist have benefited from some humanizing elements.

And all this is buried under the setting—vibrant, diverse, crapsack Johannesburg with some fantasy and near-future additions—and an urban fantasy detective plot laden with the tropes that make me dislike the genre: protagonist doesn't have adequate reasons to become involved; all early plot elements are important and meet in a busy, overly-scripted climax; red herrings and filler action in the middle third explore the gritty, grimdark urban setting. It's readable, but not my style. Angry Robot loves to publish weird books, and they allow that weirdness to run rampant when tighter, more conventional editing would improve the book. (I'm thinking of Under the Pendulum Sun by Jeannette Ng and vN by Madeline Ashby in particular, but notice it in most of their publications.) And weird is good! it's refreshing, provoking, and I wanted to like this. But it would benefit from a glossary, a rewrite, and (honestly, because of genre) a different reader.


Title: Serpent's Reach
Author: C.J. Cherryh
Published: Daw Books, 2005 (1980)
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 300
Total Page Count: 323,885
Text Number: 1137
Read Because: reading the series, paperback borrowed from the Wilsonville Public Library
Review: Quarantined from the Union, a group of humans and generations of engineered decedents live alongside alien hive-minds. This is a mirror to Forty Thousand in Gehenna, both narratives about human society evolving alongside an alien culture, but where Gehenna takes a long and distant view of social change, Serpent's Reach is an intimate view of sudden, cumulative change. As an early deep-dive into azi conditioning and personhood, it's also a predecessor to themes in Cyteen. But So much of what's interesting happens just offstage, and while the evidence of it is everywhere—in the protagonist's unsettling comfort in the physical communication of the aliens; in the azi character's complex and evolving PoV—it's overwhelmed by the action and its punishing fallout. Cherryh strikes this balance better elsewhere, like in the Morgaine and Chanur novels; perhaps in a series there's more room for combat and resulting exhaustion to transfer into characterization and relationship progression; here, it detracts rather than enriching. I read this out of Alliance-Union publication order because it was harder to obtain, but I'm glad I didn't skip it entirely. The aliens are great—I would read a thousand iterations of Cherryh's humans-in-weird-intimacies-with-aliens, they are a universal pleasure—and it speaks to reoccurring and interesting themes in her work. It also reads easier than most Cherryh, a little less dense, less terse. But it's not as strong as what she achieves elsewhere.


Title: Stellaluna
Author: Janell Cannon
Published: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2018 (1993)
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 50
Total Page Count: 323,935
Text Number: 1138
Read Because: personal enjoyment, hardback borrowed from the Wilsonville Public Library
Review: 1993 was after my time for children's literature, but I recognize the cover and art enough to have an impression of this book's success. And I can see why it succeeded—there's perpetually room for narratives about the fact that we're all outsiders, but can find connections regardless, and will find other places where we fit in, and the densely illustrated browns of the adorable and clumsy protagonist against the rich dark blues of the background is striking (although I dislike the clumsy white-edged transitions between them). But it very much feels like Lionni's Alexander and the Wind-Up Mouse, but with less magic and a simplified theme—and while I genuinely think that's a better book, it's mostly the bias of nostalgia: this isn't my story of being an outsider, of finding a home. (And that's okay! It can be someone else's.)


Title: Millions of Cats
Author: Wanda Gág
Published: Picture Puffin Books, 2006 (1928)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 30
Total Page Count: 323,965
Text Number: 1139
Read Because: this passed my dash on Tumblr on account of the "oldest picture book" detail and I dismissed it out of hand because I hate fictional representations of cats—and then I saw it at on shelves in the classic picture book section of my library the next day, so I took it as fatel hardback borrowed from the Wilsonville Public Library
Review: Stories about domestic animals age rapidly and poorly as twee remnants of evolving ethical standards, but the "hundreds of cats, thousands of cats, millions and billions and trillions of cats" is so delightful and ridiculous; it marries well to inoffensive and universal cat themes cat themes: all cats are beautiful, all are conceited; every scraggly kitten deserves love; wanting more cats, all cats, is a perpetual desire but unfortunately untenable. This gets weirdly dark in its climax, which the ridiculous tone can't quite balance. The art style is unremarkable save for some nice detailing, particularly in the millions and billions and trillions of cats. It's always a pleasure to read a book which isn't interesting just as a cultural artifact—this is the oldest American picture book still in print—but also enjoyable in its own right.

(Ratings are a fiction: this is a 3-star book, but it's so rare that I find a book about cats I don't hate.)

(Looking up author demographics, now that I keep more exhaustive records, can feel like everything wrong with the #ownvoices reader movement re: expecting public figures to disclose vulnerable personal details for public consumption, but it also means discovering that an early picture book author was polyamorous, among other things.)

The bulk of rereading Cherryh's Rider at the Gate was full of surreal self-doubt, like: why didn't I love this book the first time? why wasn't it the best of the best, top-tier bond animal trope, favorite Cherryh & favorite book for life? These questions got answers by the end:

[Mild spoilers for CJ Cherryh's Rider at the Gate and Forty Thousand in Gehenna, as well as an extensive conversation about the bond animal trope < that's a TV Tropes link if you'd like a refresher.]

( What doesn't work! What really, really does! An enthusiastic essay about the subtext of bond animals! )

Coming to the end of the crossposts! This wraps up most of the video game content. Some of these are old and profoundly overwritten; the discussion of projection vs content/subtext vs text is also nicely explored in But What I Really Want is to(o) Direct by franzeska.


( The rebels are just as dangerous! )


( Fast travel )


( The end of Yume Nikki; suicide TW )


( Pokemon are friends: projection in Pokemon Black )


( Projection vs content/subtext vs text )


( A specific example in Revenant Wings )


( How and why to fix the OT3 in Miracle Mask )

I try to do this every year: here's the best media that I encountered, but which was probably not released, in 2017.


Books

I read 176 books in 2017. My primary reading goal was to prioritize authors of color, ideally making them half of my reading material. This fell apart somewhat in the face of various and intense life stresses, but in the end 40% of the books I read this year were by PoC, up from 10%* from last year, and I'm proud of that. It's something I will continue to prioritize.

* a metric which may be somewhat out of date, as I discovered neato things while looking into Jewish authors!! but I'm too lazy for recalculations, so let's let it stand

Patience and Sarah by Isabel Miller. I love this book so much that it took me five months to write a review. Miller wrote it with precise, peculiar inspirations—the identity of a mysterious artist; sessions with a ouija board—and while I traditionally resist the idea that the author is a conduit rather than a creator (yes to authorial responsibility! boo on authorial intent!) I think there can be moments when an author reaches above and beyond themselves. I believe Beagle did this in The Last Unicorn:

A lot of things appeal to people out of their own histories in that story. I feel sometimes like Schmendrick, when the first time he actually casts real magic summoning up the shades of Robin Hood, Maid Marian and the Merry Men...people who never existed, really they’re myths, and yet there they are. And at that point he falls on his face, picks himself up, and thinks: "I wonder what I did...I did something..." Which is very much the way I feel about The Last Unicorn. Finally, fifty years later.
(source)

And I believe that Miller does it here. This is an exceptional novel; its purpose and joy and energy is remarkable, and it may be safe to call it my favorite book of the year.

Graceling series by Kristin Cashore. The books stand alone and are all perfectly good; but it's Bitterblue that won me, and I think it benefits from reading the entire series. This uses a speculative concept to explore trauma and abuse in ways that are simultaneously metaphorical, literal, and unique to the worldbuilding. I admire a narrative that's able to capitalize on the potential of its genre in that way, and there's interesting narrative-in-absentia techniques at play here, and, crucially, it's thoughtful and compassionate.

Temeraire series by Naomi Novik. I adore the companion animal trope, and am dubious of dragons; I did not expect that this would be so thorough an exploration of the former as to totally negate the later. It engages almost every question that surrounds this trope, especially re: sapience, personhood, power dynamics; the long-form adventure allows for a diverse and evolving culture. And it's tropey in every way it needs to be to give its premise emotional weight. Multiple books in this series won a 5-star rating, and as many made me cry. It's as in love and as engaged with this trope as I am. Simon Vance's audio narration makes these an especial delight.

Her Smoke Rose Up Forever by James Tiptree, Jr. I read this in the same year as my first Joanna Russ book (The Female Man)—and neither are perfect, but both are invaluable, and the combined effect has stayed with me. But nothing lingered moreso than this Tiptree collection: so exhaustive, so exhausting; the tension between her profound bitterness and daydreaming, between her (presumed, implicit, assumed) male PoV and persistent feminist themes, elevates this collection beyond the limitations of individual stories.

The Devourers by Indra Das. It would be insincere to say that this is what I wish every werewolf novel would be—I love them all uniquely—but this is what I wish every werewolf novel would be: this visceral, this vivid, this inhuman, this engaged with the concept of the Other.

Orlando by Virginia Woolf. The only real goal in life is to love or be loved as Virginia Woolf loved Vita Sackville-West; the energy that emanates from this, passionate and playful and irreverent, is incandescent. I always expect historical books about sex and gender to be restrained or dated, and for good reason, but this has aged so well; it's fluid and complicated, but too quick to become heavy. In every page, a delight.

Honorable mentions in books

Ursula K. Le Guin. I read a handful of her books this year; I didn't love them all equally (The Beginning Place is hardly her most famous but it's my favorite so far) but I'm consistently impressed, no matter how minor the work. She's profoundly skilled; she integrates and expands her central theses in ways that capitalize on the speculative genres she writes in, to great effect.

Octavia E. Butler by Gerry Canavan. I hesitate to say that I loved this biography more than Butler's novels themselves, but it reflects how it felt to read this: it summarized, contextualized, and celebrated Butler's cumulative effort and impact in a way that made me appreciate her anew.

When the Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore. I read a lot of YA I bounce off of, a lot of magical realism I don't think works; but this I loved, for its specific images, for the way that the fluidity of its style suits its issues of gender, for its beauty and love.

The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson. The energy in this is infectious, and needs to be, as it's as much about a love affair with a speculative premise and a place as with a person—and all those elements are accessible, distinctive, alive.

Thomas the Rhymer by Ellen Kushner. Fairyland which feels truly transporting and fantastic, truly fae, is hard to capture. This is such a quiet book, unassuming in structure and frame, but its depiction of fairyland is one of the most convincing that I've ever seen.



Games

Nier: Automata. I watched this played on release, and called it then, in March: game of the year. I was not mistaken. There's more this could do, further it could go; but what it does, with its androids and tropes, its meta elements and narrative structure and soundtrack, is phenomenal. One of the most remarkable things that a game can do is be profoundly wedded to its interactive medium, because few other platforms have the opportunity to interact with the consumer so directly—and Automata achieves that, to great effect.

Kirby series. I have no particular love of platformers, Nintendo, or nostalgia; but these looked cute, and: they are. Kirby is shaped like friendship, and the softness and colors of level design, the creative gameplay of Kirby's transformations, the sincerely impressive interaction with level elements in games like Epic Yarn, are a complete package. These brought me unmitigated joy; that's not something I often find.

Honorable mentions in video games

Dishonored 2. The plot and setting hasn't stuck with me as much as the first game. But to internalize criticism and then go on to make a more diverse game is fantastic (and it pays off, in Meagan Foster especially), and the small, almost-domestic moments and ongoing lore/religion in the worldbuilding are very much my thing.

Dark Souls III DLC. The base game was on my list last year, so this entry feels like cheating—but these were substantial additions, big worlds and significant narrative and so many new monster designs, all of which compliment the base game. It's an impressive product, and I wish more DLC resembled it.

Closure. A little indie puzzle platformed that exceeds expectations for that genre because the way that its core game mechanic interacts with player, art design, atmosphere, and narrative is so successful. (It even makes up for the sometimes-finicky physics.)



Visual Media

Car Boys. I'm disappointed that Nick Robinson proved not to be the person we wanted him to be, but that doesn't change the profound impact that this series had on me. Not only is it a fantastic example of emergent narrative, it simultaneously embraces my fear of existential horror and my profound longing for a greater meaning. This served a similar function for me as did Critical Role last year, despite dissimilarities in tone and content.

Dark Matter season 3. Devon and I have been watching this together, and with few misstep we've been consistently satisfied with the way this series combines found family tropes and genre mainstays. But season 3 is a cut above. It's still all those things, but the ongoing, consistent character development, particularly of the female characters, most especially of the Android, is phenomenal. There were episodes that made me cry, that I would call legitimately perfect.

Blame! I've enjoyed everything I've seen by Polygon Pictures, including Knights of Sidonia, but this is the best they could be: tropes I love, a perfect setting for their visual style and capabilities; great pacing, writing that does interesting things with its subgenre. Without competition, the best film I saw this year; it looks great and it's just so engaging to watch.

Person of Interest. Found family/AI feels is in essence all I've ever wanted from a narrative, and this delivers, delivers in droves: it has the crime serial format I love but, like Fringe, deviates from format to great effect. But it's the particular combination of themes that sold me: using AI as a launchpad to explore all varieties of personhood and socialization.

Honorable mentions in visual media

Yuri!!! on Ice. There is a need in the world for stories like this; queer love stories, stories about what it means to become one's best self, stories which are funny and sweet and profoundly empathetic. This year started poorly (and just kept on keepin' on, but:) and there was a sense of karmic balance that this existed post-election. It's escapism without being hollow; it's how I want the world to be.

Polygon. Monster Factory goes here. So does Awful Squad. But Devon and I have been branching out and watching almost anything that pops up on this channel; the balance between inoffensive good humor and video game nerdom is really likable.

Title: Sister Light, Sister Dark (Great Alta Book 1)
Author: Jane Yolen
Published: Open Road Media Sci-Fi & Fantasy, 2016 (1988)
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 250
Total Page Count: 223,595
Text Number: 711
Read Because: personal enjoyment, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: The origin story of a prophesied destroyer/savior to a society of female warriors. This is told via straight narration, but also through fictional folklore, ballads, myths, and via modern historical academic analysis, and that meta-narrative is the highlight of the book. It isn't always successful—the modern sections are an academic pastiche with a grating tone—but the cumulative effect functions to contextualize and deconstruct the otherwise unremarkable tropes as well as the story's feminist themes, creating a story about stories, about history, about cultural perceptions and mythic archetypes. The story underneath that structure is only okay—the chosen one is a tired trope, even when reinvented—but Yolen's balance of a private coming of age and a prophetic origin story has a pleasant rhythm. I didn't fall in love with this, and I'm not compelled to read the sequels (especially as I'm under the impression that the direct sequel tones down the meta-narrative), but I found this reasonably satisfying.


Title: Wicked Gentlemen
Author: Ginn Hale
Published: Blind Eye Books, 2007
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 225
Total Page Count: 223,820
Text Number: 712
Read Because: personal enjoyment, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: A missing woman brings together a clergyman/detective and a disgraced demonic descendant. As the premise implies, the worldbuilding here is indulgent and stylized, something like Fallen London-lite: otherworldly Prodigal and their demonic magics, the strict and corrupt church-cum-police force, a city with its propriety and dirty underbelly. The pair of protagonists almost live up to that; they're ultimately too nice, and their romance resolves too easily, but between them they offer a diverse, ambiguous view of their world. The mysteries that fuel the plot are only adequate, dependent on coincidence and fairly simplistic in fact, but with a moral ambiguity that echoes the worldbuilding. I wish this lived up to its potential (and had stronger editing, especially re: dialog), but it's fun.


Title: Blood of Tyrants (Temeraire Book 8)
Author: Naomi Novik
Narrator: Simon Vance
Published: Tantor Media, 2013
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 450
Total Page Count: 224,270
Text Number: 713
Read Because: continuing the series, audiobook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: En route to China, an accident leaves Laurence shipwrecked, with amnesia, in Japan. Amnesia is the most cliché of all possible tropes, but it achieves what it's meant to, resetting, and thus recognizing, Laurence's character growth; allowing him to fall in love, again, with Temeraire. It's ill-excused, manipulative, and effective. Politics and battles then transpire, and they integrate the disparate plot points and return the focus to Napoleon and the war at hand, while still engaging issues of ethics and dragon/human society. This is what a penultimate book should be, a coalescing and revisiting; and while it doesn't achieve that with great grace, I'll be damned if I didn't love it anyway.

Title: Tongues of Serpents (Temeraire Book 6)
Author: Naomi Novik
Narrator: Simon Vance
Published: Tantor Media, 2010
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 315
Total Page Count: 214,540
Text Number: 676
Read Because: continuing the series, audiobook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: Laurence and Temeraire are exiled to Australia. This is a quiet book, especially so after the previous installment; the action is removed from the war, set on a smaller scale, and consists of little more than a long overland journey. But Australia is a compelling landscape, eerie and inhospitable, and there's room in this smaller novel to develop and introduce minor characters; later plot revelations continue the interesting dragons-as-technology alternate history themes. As a stand-alone, I would find this disappointing; at this point in the larger series, it's more successful (if still not a favorite): a break after the height of the action and before the ramp up to the finale, quiet and bitter but also easing the tension.


Title: Acceptance (Southern Reach Book 3)
Author: Jeff VanderMeer
Published: FSG Originals, 2014
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 345
Total Page Count: 214,885
Text Number: 677
Read Because: continuing the series, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: The narratives of those involved in Area X—its creation, as well as its eventual fate—converge. That makes for substantial PoV- and voice-hopping, including some second person address, and it works surprisingly well—it's distinctive and develops secondary characters and elements; the number of simultaneous narratives also creates a better balance between the conspiracy side and nature preserve/alien phenomenon side of the story. But the conspiracy still bores me, and everything ties together too neatly, a litany of reoccurring, over-explained artifact and images; the ending is small, almost anticlimactic. These are the exact complaints I expected I wouldn't have, as they're the elements VanderMeer has handled best until now—but here, he creates too clear a picture of a subject which is meant to be unknowable. I enjoyed Annihilation; I don't know that any sequels could have held up to such an ambitious, strange beginning, and I didn't expect them too—and, as it turns out, they're okay: just okay.


Title: The Devourers
Author: Indra Das
Published: Del Ray, 2016
Rating: 5 of 5
Page Count: 325
Total Page Count: 215,210
Text Number: 678
Read Because: this post from Penguin's Tumblr, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: A professor meets a man who claims to be half-werewolf and charges him with the transcription of documents which tell an unusual story—a story of bodily transformation, ownership, and autonomy; of gender, rape, race, imperialism; of shapeshifters. Das's voice is beautiful, powerful, and distinctly grotesque—an unusual variation of lyrical which is particularly well suited to the themes at hand. The characters and dynamics which emerge are strongly voiced and unromanticized. Cyrah in particular fantastic, and images from her story—specifically, her first two beast rides—have not left me. This book became one of my lifetime favorites while I was still in the process of reading it and, in the nature of favorites, it's difficult for me to do it adequate praise. I'm a sucker for werewolves and shapeshifters, but I believe this works even if you're not; the style is the real determining factor, and it creates an empowered, complicated, visceral narrative. I adored it, of course recommend it, and look forward to my first reread.

Title: Annihilation (Southern Reach Book 1)
Author: Jeff VanderMeer
Published: FSG Originals, 2014
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 195
Total Page Count: 218,840
Text Number: 664
Read Because: personal enjoyment, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: A biologist joins an expedition into Area X, quarantined after an undisclosed event and now uninhabited. This is akin to the most compelling and surreal parts of the podcast TANIS, or the S.T.A.L.K.E.R. franchise—half terrain, half experience, entirely a revelation, thick with body horror and existential horror. The ending is substantial and convincing, which is crucial to this type of narrative. For better or worse, the bizarre usually needs a counterbalance, both to contrast and distract, so the intrigue isn't lost; here, that's the protagonist and her husband, a relationship which is bland and vaguely unlikeable. But the short length means most of the focus can be Area X itself, and VanderMeer's distant narration, a removed and precise take on New Weird's vivid imagery, is a strong fit. I really enjoyed this; it's easy to come up with this premise, but requires both creativity and discretion to drive it home, to make it profound but keep it on the edge of unknowable. This hit that balance, to satisfying effect.


Title: Empire of Ivory (Temeraire Book 4)
Author: Naomi Novik
Narrator: Simon Vance
Published: Books on Tape, 2007
Rating: 5 of 5
Page Count: 400
Total Page Count: 211,240
Text Number: 665
Read Because: continuing the series, audiobook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: Laurence and Temeraire search for a cure to the illness ravaging England's dragons. Unlike the previous installment, this book has a solid throughline. The plot makes for extraordinarily satisfying hurt/comfort—revolving around Laurence and Temeraire, but, unusually, also around other dragons and their captains; it's a welcome broadening of emotional investment, and works beautifully. This book also marks the series's first major departure from history (dragons aside, of course), and it's a telling change that directly addresses the racial issues that permeate the narrative. I was initially skeptical of the tendency to elide historical slavery and the fictional social role of dragons, but the way this development works, combined with increasingly diverse representation, specifically of Africans, goes a long way to resolving that. This series is super tropey, in its tone and relationships, which is what makes it so compulsively readable. But the underlying historical setting, with all its injustice and complication, tempers and enriches that tone. I'm remain in love with the series, but this volume in particular was fantastic. (And, that ending!)


Title: The Summer Prince
Author: Alaya Dawn Johnson
Narrators: Rebecca Mozo, Lincoln Hoppe
Published: Scholastic Audio, 2013
Rating: 5 of 5
Page Count: 300
Total Page Count: 211,540
Text Number: 666
Read Because: reading more from the author, audiobook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: The kings of Palmares Tres are elected by the public and ritually sacrificed by the queen, a symbolic role disrupted by the election of an unusually popular king plucked from the city's lowest social class. It's hard to introduce this novel's elements—nanotechnology, post-apocalyptic manufactured societies, celebrity, love affairs, art—in a summary; the book does a better job of it, of sinking the reader deeper and deeper into the larger-than-life, vibrantly detailed world of Palmares Tres. In another setting, the romances would be melodramatic; within this appropriately heightened tableau, they're bittersweet and symbolic, and refreshingly non-monogamous.

This is what I hoped for, after I read Love is the Drug and found it unsatisfying but saw potential in the author: I wanted that diversity, that eye for daily detail, that penchant for dramatic romances, explored within a creative and highly speculative setting. And the result is remarkable, grandiose and complicated and sincerely emotional, and one of my favorite books of the year.

Title: Affinity
Author: Sarah Waters
Published: Penguin, 2002 (1999)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 360
Total Page Count: 209,320
Text Number: 637
Read Because: fan of the author, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: When a troubled woman begins volunteer work at her local prison, she meets a captivating spiritualist inmate. Waters's books consistently offer a dramatic, discomforting tension—they're set deep within their historical contexts, dealing with social/gender roles and queer relationships; they're unromanticized, yet evocative and atmospheric. I found Affinity's social tensions (imprisonment, mental health, suicide within gendered/social context) especially unpleasant for personal reasons, but they have strong thematic synergy. But much of the book's tension lies in the authenticity of the supernatural elements, which means most plot developments are shunted into dramatic revelations in the closing act—and, though both logical and foreshadowed, this still betrays the long, slow engagement that is the bulk of the narrative. This is my least favorite Waters novel so far, which is to praise with a faint damning: it's compelling and sympathetic, but didn't strike me in the way that Waters's other novels have.


Title: Throne of Jade (Temeraire Book 2)
Author: Naomi Novik
Narrator: Simon Vance
Published: Books on Tape, 2007 (2006)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 370
Total Page Count: 209,690
Text Number: 638
Read Because: continuing the series, audiobook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: After discovering that Temeraire is a Celestial, the rarest and most prestigious of Chinese dragon breeds, Laurence and crew must make a political journey to China itself. I love an extended training montage; as such, this second book in the series lack the immediate appeal of the first. Its focus is politics and culture clash, sometimes in petty ways (which suit the historical setting, but still weary), but improving as themes develop and Chinese dragons are explored. The plot is unremarkable, but what I love about this series is the proactive way it engages the companion animal trope, and here it extends both its setting and purview to explore the social role of dragons across two cultures, while maintaining an emotional center in the relationship between Laurence and Temeraire. I may not have loved this as much as the first book, but I remain content with the series so far—it's a satisfying and increasingly thorough take on one of my favorite tropes.


Title: It's All Absolutely Fine
Author and Illustrator: Ruby Elliot
Published: Kansas City: Andrew McMeel Publishing, 2017
Rating: 2 of 5
Page Count: 255
Total Page Count: 209,945
Text Number: 639
Read Because: personal enjoyment, print book borrowed from Dee
Review:
A memoir and comic collection by a 20-something woman figuring out how to live life as an adult with mental illness. Chapter divisions give the book structure, but grouping the comics makes most of them feel repetitive while leaving a handful of outliers—themselves quite cute!—to stick out sorely. I feel like the comics would be more successful viewed individually, and my experiencing seeing the author's work online supports this. The text sections are honest and have a distinctive informal and self-deprecatory tone. It's all quite relatable, but I'm not sure who the intended audience is meant to be: not an outsider, as everything hinges on relatability; but the lack of detail or productive payoff make it feel too shallow for a fellow sufferer.

I'll be honest: I am the exact wrong audience for this. I find memoirs of this tone wallowy and vaguely triggering; they evoke all the frustrations of female bodies and mental illness, but don't do anything with that except provide sympathy and platitudes. Readers that benefit from a sense of kinship and loving self-mockery will probably have a far better experience.

Title: Fire (Graceling Realm Book 2)
Author: Kirstin Cashore
Narrator: Xanthe Elbrick
Published: Penguin Random House Audio Publishing Group, 2009
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 400
Total Page Count: 204,240
Text Number: 626
Read Because: continuing the series, audiobook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: Fire is a Monster, born with an otherwordly beauty that makes her dangerously compelling. She must decide if she's willing to use her powers to help her country stave off civil war. The plot is adequate but not amazing, and the romance and love interest aren't as engaging as in Graceling (although I continue to appreciate Cashore's portrayal of sexual relationships). But the overall quality is so significantly improved over Graceling as to balance out a number of weaknesses, and the ethical explorations of Fire's abilities are subtle and complex. This is a significantly improved experience, more challenging, better written; I'd enjoy it just for the opportunity to watch Cashore's technical skill improve, but I also appreciate the tropes at play. I look forward to reading the next book in the series.


( On Fire's river mare. )

Title: The Game of Rat and Dragon
Author: Cordwainer Smith
Published: Galaxy Science Fiction, 1955
Rating: 2 of 5
Page Count: 15
Total Page Count: 189,720
Text Number: 557
Read Because: interested in companion animal trope, ebook from Project Gutenberg
Review: In the future, humans cannot undergo the dangerous hyperspace journeys alone. The short story is more concept than narrative or character piece. The speculative elements and style are dated, and what functions as plot is, at best, bizarre. But the core concept is creative, oddball, and an unusual prototype of the companion/magical bond animal trope, as early examples go. This is impossible to take seriously, but it's a harmless way to spend a few minutes.