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#24: Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner. 3.5. My goodness, I can see why some of my friends are completely in love with this book. This is the slashiest slash that ever slashed, only original. There are a bunch of nobles floating around, and ostensibly a lot of court politics. But really, this is the story of two special snowflake boys in love and ANGST. One is the very best swordsman who ever sworded. The other is a disgraced, somewhat suicidal scholar with a hidden past. There's clothing porn, manful tears, make up sex, threatened rape and torture, hurt/comfort, and lots of misunderstandings because people refuse to talk about their feelings right after angsting about their feelings.
It's the kind of thing that, if this pushes your buttons, mashes them with a mallet. They're not really my buttons, though. It was entertaining, but I actually kind of wanted to slap most of the main characters.
One thing I appreciated--I don't think this book could necessarily be written today. Not at all because of the relationship, but because of the low stakes. Most genre fiction today seems to require earth-shattering revelations. Today, I think the author would have been pressured into taking the hints of artisan revolts and the possibility of toppling the government and making the climactic courtroom scene determine, not just the fate of one or two people, but the entire government. And I don't think that's necessarily a good thing. There should be a place for stories like this, which may not be low stakes but really only affect a handful of people. Not every book needs to threaten to upturn the world forever.
#25: The City & the City by China Mieville. 5. Is this actually a supernatural thriller, or just a very clever procedural? Mieville continues to be evasive, even in the interview in the afterward. Either way, it's relentlessly clever.
I hesitate to even describe the setting in too much detail, since part of the joy of this book is discovering the nature of the dual city of Bezsel and Ul Qoma and of Breach. Let's leave it to say that this is a murder mystery in a palimpsest city whose citizens stretch the meaning of the social convention. It's a fascinating thought experiment without being in the slightest bit cerebral--Tyador is not particularly philosophical and is far more interested in figuring out who killed the victim and how that death is tied into the knotty politics he would have preferred to avoid. At the same time, it's suitably creepy and atmospheric. Interdepartmental fighting at a level beyond any bureaucrat's worst nightmares, all overshadowed by the continual shadowy threat of Breach. The conclusion manages some real surprises that make perfect sense in retrospect. A deeply satisfying mystery with an ingenious twist of the weird.
It's the kind of thing that, if this pushes your buttons, mashes them with a mallet. They're not really my buttons, though. It was entertaining, but I actually kind of wanted to slap most of the main characters.
One thing I appreciated--I don't think this book could necessarily be written today. Not at all because of the relationship, but because of the low stakes. Most genre fiction today seems to require earth-shattering revelations. Today, I think the author would have been pressured into taking the hints of artisan revolts and the possibility of toppling the government and making the climactic courtroom scene determine, not just the fate of one or two people, but the entire government. And I don't think that's necessarily a good thing. There should be a place for stories like this, which may not be low stakes but really only affect a handful of people. Not every book needs to threaten to upturn the world forever.
#25: The City & the City by China Mieville. 5. Is this actually a supernatural thriller, or just a very clever procedural? Mieville continues to be evasive, even in the interview in the afterward. Either way, it's relentlessly clever.
I hesitate to even describe the setting in too much detail, since part of the joy of this book is discovering the nature of the dual city of Bezsel and Ul Qoma and of Breach. Let's leave it to say that this is a murder mystery in a palimpsest city whose citizens stretch the meaning of the social convention. It's a fascinating thought experiment without being in the slightest bit cerebral--Tyador is not particularly philosophical and is far more interested in figuring out who killed the victim and how that death is tied into the knotty politics he would have preferred to avoid. At the same time, it's suitably creepy and atmospheric. Interdepartmental fighting at a level beyond any bureaucrat's worst nightmares, all overshadowed by the continual shadowy threat of Breach. The conclusion manages some real surprises that make perfect sense in retrospect. A deeply satisfying mystery with an ingenious twist of the weird.
