Review: Strike the Zither

Title: Strike the Zither

Series: Kingdom of Three #1

Author: Joan He

Genre: Fantasy (YA)

Trigger Warnings: Death, injury, blood, violence, war, parent death (mentions), terminal illness, alcohol use (mentions), child death (mentions), vomit (mentions), animal death (mentions)

Back Cover:

The Chinese classic Three Kingdoms reimagined with a lady Zhuge Liang.

The year is 414 of the Xin Dynasty, and chaos abounds. A puppet empress is on the throne, and three warlordesses each hope to claim the continent for themselves.

Only Zephyr knows it’s no contest.

Orphaned at a young age, Zephyr took control of her fate by becoming the best strategist of the land and serving under Xin Ren, a warlordess whose loyalty to the empress is double-edged—while Ren’s honor draws Zephyr to her cause, it also jeopardizes their survival in a war where one must betray or be betrayed. When Zephyr is forced to infiltrate an enemy camp to keep Ren’s followers from being slaughtered, she encounters the enigmatic Crow, an opposing strategist who is finally her match. But there are more enemies than one—and not all of them are human.

Review:

I didn’t realize when I picked this up that I’d already read one book by this author before – or at least attempted to read, as I DNF’ed Descendant of the Crane in 2021. But the back cover on this one sounded much more interesting, and I didn’t DNF the other book for being bad, just because I wasn’t able to get into it – which could very easily have been more about my mood than the book itself. So I gave this one a shot.

And at first, I was really glad I did. I didn’t love the world-building – I’ve read too many fantasies set in actual ancient China, so this Chinese-inspired world felt like a discordant mishmash of ideas instead of a cohesive world, but I could live with that. What I did like was Zephyr, who was clever, calculating, always three steps ahead of everyone else (a trait I love in a character), and some intriguing combination of dedicated to her warlordess and desperate to prove herself useful. And even though the plot involved a lot of politics, it wasn’t slow and managed to involve a fair bit of action and intrigue along the way.

The back cover really doesn’t tell you much about what’s in the book. The infiltration happens almost immediately, and while Crow is definitely an antagonist, he’s not really a major player in the story. Just about every bit of the story you think you’re going to read wraps up in part one. Then in part two things go way off the rails, and that’s where I started to really struggle.

My big criticism of the story itself is that it sacrifices background for speed, and that blunts any potential emotional impact. I don’t disagree with the choice – a long setup would have done the story a disservice. But often the reader finds out about crucial pieces of information the moment they’re supposed to be connected to an emotional moment, so the emotions have to share my attention with the process of mentally putting this new information into the overarching picture of the book. This also makes the big revelation at the start of part two feel unexpected, but in a jarring, random way. I may have had a different experience if I’d read Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the Chinese classic that this series is based on, but I haven’t. So maybe this is true to the original, but it was still difficult for me.

The problem I had with part two, and the reason I won’t be continuing the series, is definitely a case of it’s not the book, it’s me. A major event at the end of part one and a character’s response to it at the beginning of part two resulted in one major character ending up in the body of another major character. I do not like body-swapping. I can’t even really explain why, it just makes me extremely uncomfortable. It’s worse if the body-swapped characters try to pretend that they are the person whose body they’re in, which also happens here. So I spent most of part two wanting to leave the situation but also hoping that the characters would get back to the right bodies, because I was sure I would start to like it again once the body-swapping thing was fixed. But based on the ending and reading the back cover for the sequel, I think the characters are likely to stay in the wrong bodies until near the end of book two. And I do not want to deal with that.

On the whole, this is not a bad book by any means. It had a lot of aspects that didn’t do it for me, personally, but that’s not a judgement on the book itself. I’m having a hard time expressing any sort of overall opinion about it because the biggest thing I didn’t like about it (and quite possibly the smaller thing I didn’t like as well) were all matters of personal opinion. I like the ideas, it’s well-written, and it kept my interest despite being fairly politics-heavy. It just has some elements that aren’t for me, personally – but might be for you.

The Kingdom of Three Duology:

1. Strike the Zither
2. Sound the Gong

Review: Bronze Drum (DNF)

Title: Bronze Drum: A Novel of Sisters and War

Author: Phong Nguyen

Genre: Historical Fiction

Trigger Warnings: Death, blood (mentions), confinement, injury, sexual content (not described), colonialism, suicide attempt

Note: Trigger warnings in DNF books only cover the part I read. There may be triggers further in the book that I did not encounter.

Read To: Page 184

Back Cover:

Gather around, children of Chu Dien, and be brave. For even to listen to the story of the Trung Sisters is, in these troubled times, a dangerous act.

In 40 CE, in the Au Lac region of ancient Vietnam, two daughters of a Vietnamese Lord fill their days training, studying, and trying to stay true to Vietnamese traditions. While Trung Trac is disciplined and wise, always excelling in her duty, Trung Nhi is fierce and free spirited, more concerned with spending time in the gardens and with lovers.

But these sister’s lives—and the lives of their people—are shadowed by the oppressive rule of the Han Chinese. They are forced to adopt Confucian teachings, secure marriages, and pay ever‑increasing taxes. As the peoples’ frustration boils over, the country comes ever closer to the edge of war.

When Trung Trac and Trung Nhi’s father is executed, their world comes crashing down around them. With no men to save them against the Han’s encroaching regime, they must rise and unite the women of Vietnam into an army. Solidifying their status as champions of women and Vietnam, they usher in a period of freedom and independence for their people.

Vivid, lyrical, and filled with adventure, Bronze Drum is a true story of standing up for one’s people, culture, and country that has been passed down through generations of Vietnamese families through oral tradition. Phong Nguyen’s breathtaking novel takes these real women out of legends and celebrates their loves, losses, and resilience in this inspirational story of women’s strength and power even in the face of the greatest obstacles. 

Review:

I struggled with this book from the very beginning. And normally when that happens, I decide to stop fairly early on. It’s part of my whole “only read books that I enjoy” goal – if I’m not enjoying it, why keep reading?

The problem here is that I really wanted to like this book. It’s such a fantastic concept. I had never heard the story of Trung Trac and Trung Nhi before, but a pair of sisters who raise an army of women to drive out the people occupying their country is such a fantastic story. Even better, this is based on real historical people and events! My knowledge of Vietnam is extremely limited, so I was excited to learn more about Vietnamese traditions and values. And not only is Vietnam an awesome setting, this is specifically Bronze Age Vietnam, which, as someone who finds ancient history much more interesting than anything that happened less than a thousand years ago, I found especially appealing. There are so many good ideas and good concepts and things I really, really wanted to love and immerse myself in.

However, it ultimately ended up being disappointing. Some of that was stylistic. The writing was very a folktale, oral tradition type of style – narrative heavy, switching perspectives with no warning, not identifying particular “main characters,” and telling you everything that goes on instead of actually showing you. Though there wasn’t an explicit narrator, there was a strong sense of the story, the setting, and anything that might have made it feel vibrant being mediated and muted through the lens of an omnicient storyteller. The characters and world, though interesting in concept, struggled to rise off the page.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes this storyteller-narrator style could work – and it’s not an inherently bad choice for a story based in oral tradition like this is. It wouldn’t be easy to make it work in a 400-page novel, but it’s possible. In fact, I think it could have worked if it weren’t for this book’s second major problem: Nothing happens.

The back cover establishes that the death of Trung Trac and Trung Nhi’s father is when the story actually gets started. When I stopped reading, he was still alive. Nothing truly interesting happened until 150 pages into the book. The first 184 pages (and possibly more) were more like a slice of life in that time period. Trung Trac and Trung Nhi walked in the gardens, practiced fighting forms, learned from their tutors, fell in love, argued with each other, made occasional stupid decisions, had complex relationships with their parents, and generally just lived as Vietnamese young women under the Han invaders. Again, in itself, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. If done right, having such a long period of “setting the scene” can make the rest of the story feel more important and impactful.

The problem is that this book tries to do both. With the storyteller style, the reader isn’t getting a lot of emotional connection with the characters, so it needs to have a stronger, quicker-paced plot to make it work. To keep a long period of setup from getting boring, the reader needs to create strong emotional connections with the characters. But by doing both, the narrator/storyteller style toned down the emotions and kept me from forming a connection with any of these characters that would have engaged me in the minutiae of daily life, and having such a long period of setup left me with no plot or major central conflict to get invested in.

This is a really difficult book to review because I desperately wanted to like it. I really wanted to read this story about warrior sisters in Bronze Age Vietnam! But the telling made two choices that both individually make sense (storyteller style to emphasize its oral origins and long setup to familiarize Western readers with the place and time) that combined to make it dull. Not unreadable, definitely, but not really enjoyable either. I wanted so much to like this. I just didn’t.

Review: He Who Drowned the World

Title: He Who Drowned the World

Series: Radiant Emperor duology #2

Author: Shelley Parker-Chan

Genre: Historical Fantasy

Trigger Warnings: Violence, blood, injury, death, bullying, self-harm (graphic), grief (severe), sexual content (explicit), misogyny, ableism, sexual assault, miscarriage, infidelity, murder, child death, parent death (mentions), suicidal ideation, body dysmorphia, homophobia, that complicated sexual trauma where you have sex when you don’t really want to as a means to get something else

Spoiler Warning: This book is second in a series, and reading beyond this point will expose you to spoilers of the first book, She Who Became the Sun.

Back Cover:

How much would you give to win the world?

Zhu Yuanzhang, the Radiant King, is riding high after her victory that tore southern China from its Mongol masters. Now she burns with a new desire: to seize the throne and crown herself emperor.

But Zhu isn’t the only one with imperial ambitions. Her neighbor in the south, the courtesan Madam Zhang, wants the throne for her husband—and she’s strong enough to wipe Zhu off the map. To stay in the game, Zhu will have to gamble everything on a risky alliance with an old enemy: the talented but unstable eunuch general Ouyang, who has already sacrificed everything for a chance at revenge on his father’s killer, the Great Khan.

Unbeknownst to the southerners, a new contender is even closer to the throne. The scorned scholar Wang Baoxiang has maneuvered his way into the capital, and his lethal court games threaten to bring the empire to its knees. For Baoxiang also desires revenge: to become the most degenerate Great Khan in history—and in so doing, make a mockery of every value his Mongol warrior family loved more than him.

All the contenders are determined to do whatever it takes to win. But when desire is the size of the world, the price could be too much for even the most ruthless heart to bear…

Review:

This is a hard book to review. Not because it was bad, or even because I’m ambivalent about it – on the contrary, it was spectacular and I loved it. Even having read the first book nearly two years ago, it didn’t take me long to get back into the story. It kept me engaged throughout and even got my heart speeding up in a few particularly tense scenes. It was, above all, astonishingly good.

And I think that’s a large part of what makes it hard to review. I can’t share all the emotions it made me feel by writing about it. To get the full experience, you have to read it yourself. It’s vivid and intense and full of twists I didn’t see coming but probably should have and the kind of book that leaves you completely exhausted at the end because you’ve been feeling so much along the way.

Another part of what makes this hard to review is how utterly dark it is. The first book was dark, too, don’t get me wrong. Zhu is not a good person. She is ruthless and ambitious and claims she is willing to sacrifice anything to reach her goal, and this book puts that to the test. This is also a book where Zhu starts to challenge the bounds of a likeable character. In the first book, she was ruthless and ambitious and violent and did a lot of really horrible things. But in the context of a world that would rather let her starve than inconvenience a man, it didn’t seem unreasonable. In this book, she had reached some measure of security – though still under threat, she was one of the four dominant military and political powers of the area. But her ambition to be the greatest kept her pushing onwards, even as she destroyed others in the process. She was still a dynamic, compelling character and I never really stopped rooting for her, but as the book progressed I found myself repeatedly confronting the reality of her actions and not really being sure how to feel about them. In some ways, it feels weird to even apply moral judgements here, though I can’t fully explain why. But eventually both I and Zhu were looking at the consequences of her ambitions and wondering if it was really worth all that.

(Yet another thing I appreciate about this series: None of the women in these books – whether or not you want to count Zhu and her ambiguous gender identity as a woman – are shamed for their ambition or treated any worse than the men for their crimes. The society is blatantly misogynistic, but the narrative refuses to be.)

General Ouyang was a major player in the last book, and he still is in this one, but to a lesser degree. Some of that is because of his arc. Following on the events from the climax of book one, his is an equal but opposite story to Zhu. While Zhu’s ambitions propelled her to further heights, Ouyang’s relentless pursuit of revenge drove him to further lows. Zhu’s resolve clarified as Ouyang’s mind descended into chaos. I found myself mainly feeling compassion as he destroyed himself on the teeth of his own self-loathing. I wish he could have had a better ending, but he was so far gone that I think he got the best he could.

This book, being the last in the series, was an ending for every character, though not all of them died. Writing-wise, their endings made sense, fit with their arcs, and felt narratively satisfying. On a personal level, so many of them deserved better. Xu Da deserved better. Ma deserved better. Ouyang deserved better. Even Baoxiang deserved better (he deserved better last book, and even before – he is yet another case of an antagonist who I really just feel bad for).

And this brings me to the final reason this book is so hard to review: There is just too much to say. I haven’t said anything about Baoxiang’s story, even though he was a point of view narrator. I haven’t talked about the gender politics involved in this story, or the absolutely spot-on depictions of that very specific and hard-to-define type of sexual trauma where you have sex when you really don’t want to or with someone you don’t want to have sex with as a means to get something else, or the theme of being seen in a gendered body (and, to a lesser extent, a visibly disabled body), or how it’s paced so well that it feels like so much is happening without ever feeling rushed or monotonous, or the really awesome historical setting, or the ghosts.

If I talked about every amazing thing in this book, I could go on forever. But I’ve focused this review mainly on the characters, because despite all the action and adventure and ghosts and politics and invasions, this is a story about these characters and how their actions, good, bad, or otherwise, shape (and often end) the lives of the people around them and, ultimately, the course of history. This feels like a book (and, honestly, a series) that you could keep re-reading and discover something new every time. (It helps that these books are long.) So few sequels live up to their predecessor, but this one does – but it’s also unique to the point where I can’t say whether She Who Became the Sun or He Who Drowned the World is better because they’re both so good for different reasons and in different ways.

I’m running out of eloquent ways to say “this is an amazing book, you should read the whole series,” so there you go. This is an amazing book. So was the first one. You should read both – especially if you like stories that show your emotions no mercy.

The Radiant Emperor duology:

1. She Who Became the Sun
2. He Who Drowned the World

Review: Dream Runners

Title: Dream Runners

Author: Shveta Thakrar

Genre: Portal Fantasy (YA)

Trigger Warnings: Memory loss, violence, blood (mentions), death, parent death (mentions), grief, panic attacks, confinement, forced marriage

Back Cover:

Seven years ago, Tanvi was spirited away to the subterranean realm of Nagalok, where she joined the ranks of the dream runners: human children freed of all memory and emotion, charged with harvesting mortal dreams for the consumption of the naga court.

Venkat knows a different side of Nagalok. As apprentice to the influential Lord Nayan, he shapes the dream runners’ wares into the kingdom’s most tantalizing commodity. And Nayan has larger plans for these mortal dreams: with a dreamsmith of Venkat’s talent, he believes he can use them to end a war between nagas and their ancient foe, the garudas.

But when one of Tanvi’s dream harvests goes awry, she begins to remember her life on Earth. Panicked and confused, she turns to the one mortal in Nagalok who can help: Venkat. And as they search for answers, a terrifying truth begins to take shape—one that could turn the nagas’ realm of dreams into a land of waking nightmare.

Review:

I didn’t have high expectations when picking this one up. It gave me “mediocre YA romance” vibes, and I can’t really explain why. But I am a sucker for books featuring mythologies I’m not super familiar with, and for as interesting as Indian mythology is, I don’t know a whole lot about it. So I decided to give it a chance.

In many ways, this book does fall a little flat. The narrative assumes a base knowledge of Indian terms and phrases that I just don’t have, so I was frequently nudged out of immersion by an unfamiliar term and have to either Google or guess at the meaning. The descriptions were largely limited to color and shape, and occasionally size and shininess, making a visually rich world that lacked the multisensory richness that would have made it feel truly engaging. Aside from Tanvi and Venkat, the characters were well-rounded but largely uninteresting. And I guessed the big devastating twist really early.

But most of these things I only really noticed in retrospect. I read through Dream Runners fairly quickly and stayed engaged the whole time. And that’s because there is one thing this book does spectacularly well: emotions. Tanvi and Venkat alternate narration and both had different but vivid emotions they were going through. Tanvi especially, as she went through confusing, painful emotional process of emerging from the dream runner mental state and regaining her memories, had such vivid, realistic, engaging feelings that they covered over a multitude of confusing terminology and lifeless descriptions. The sheer emotionality of this story hit the perfect balance – it was sharp and intense without tipping over into corny and melodramatic. Regardless of the other flaws in this book, the emotional aspect is spot-on.

There was also an interesting theme of sisterhood and conflict running throughout the book. A large part of Tanvi’s journey as she gets her memory back is her sister – memories of her, her sister as she is now, seven years later, and the ongoing conflict between them. For most of the book, the naga and garuda conflict felt like an irritating distraction from what actually should be an emotional, personal story. But when it comes to a head in the climax, it actually ties into the theme of conflict between sisters.

I also have to briefly mention the romance (because it’s a YA book featuring one female and one male protagonist, there can’t not be a romance). I kept picturing Venkat as significantly older than Tanvi, so it felt a little weird for that. But the romance part was short, sweet, and very, very minor, which I appreciated. It added to the ending, but neither character spent too much time dwelling on it while they were supposed to be doing other stuff, which I think is generally the right way to do romances.

Ultimately, the book as a whole seemed a little flat. It was good, but not great; entertaining, but not engrossing. The world was solid and had good potential, but seemed to be missing a fundamental richness that would make it feel full and vibrant. But the plot on the whole was good, if a little predictable, and the emotions were spectacularly done. It’s certainly not the best book I’ve ever read, but it’s perfectly good.

Review: Godkiller

Title: Godkiller

Series: Fallen Gods #1

Author: Hannah Kaner

Genre: Fantasy

Trigger Warnings: Torture (severe), death, parent death, fire/fire injury (severe), gore, blood (severe), injury (severe), grief, body horror (mild), animal death, sexual content, violence, mind control

Back Cover:

Gods are forbidden in the kingdom of Middren. Formed by human desires and fed by their worship, there are countless gods in the world—but after a great war, the new king outlawed them and now pays “godkillers” to destroy any who try to rise from the shadows.

As a child, Kissen saw her family murdered by a fire god. Now, she makes a living killing them and enjoys it. But all this changes when Kissen is tasked with helping a young noble girl with a god problem. The child’s soul is bonded to a tiny god of white lies, and Kissen can’t kill it without ending the girl’s life too.

Joined by a disillusioned knight on a secret quest, the unlikely group must travel to the ruined city of Blenraden, where the last of the wild gods reside, to each beg a favor. Pursued by assassins and demons, and in the midst of burgeoning civil war, they will all face a reckoning. Something is rotting at the heart of their world, and they are the only ones who can stop it.

Review:

I have heard nothing about this book anywhere – I’m pretty sure I found it through The StoryGraph’s (admittedly pretty great) recommendation algorithm. My library doesn’t even have a copy. But honestly, everybody should know about this book because it’s just so good.

First off, I’m already predisposed to like this concept. If you know anything about me, you know I’m a sucker for interesting, unique, or weird takes on deities and religion. A world where gods are formed out of human desire and sustained by their prayers and offerings, but are also outlawed by the king and hunted down and killed by god-killers, is right up my alley. There are so many fascinating little details, from the details of how a god is created to to the ways gods interact with the humans who give it life and offerings to the process of killing one. I found it fascinating, but even if you don’t, it doesn’t detract at all from the story.

And the story is pretty spectacular too. It starts out with Kissen, who lost her entire family and one of her legs to a god being petty and territorial. Fitted with a pretty cool prosthetic, she now makes a living hunting down and killing gods for coin – a bit like a Witcher if Witchers hunted gods instead of monsters. Then she meets Inara, a kid somehow bound to a small god. On their quest to figure out how to untangle the kid and the god, they join up with Elogast, a former knight on a very illegal quest from the king. Though having four point-of-view characters (Kissen, Inara, Elogast, and Inara’s god) gets annoying at times, it gets less annoying once all four are in the same spot headed in the same direction. And there really isn’t a perspective that could be removed without harming the story as a whole – as irritating as it got in the beginning, this story really does need all four narrators.

I’m not going to comment on the plot much, for a couple reasons. One is that as simple as “go to this city and ask the wild gods how to solve the problem” sounds, the actual reality is significantly more complicated than that. The other is that for as strong as the plot is (and it is very good), it’s the characters that really sang for me in this one. Guilty and disillusioned knight only recently forced to stop hiding from the world and his own feelings; sheltered and scared only child of a noblewoman, uncertain about any of this but determined to be brave; god of little white lies, bound to a single child and desperate for more; and my absolute favorite, strong and broken and furious and violent and loyal and traumatized and all-around spectacular god-killer. The plot is great and the world is spectacular, but in such a way that the characters really shine.

I didn’t know going in that this was first in a series, but I’m very glad it is. The ending left so much open – the whole “burgeoning civil war” thing, whatever the hell the king is up to, how the god got bound to Inara in the first place, why Inara has the weird powers she has, what Kissen is going to do after that ending … And above all, I want to read more. Godkiller just came out, so I’m sure book two will be a long time coming, but I’m looking forward to it.

The Fallen Gods series:

1. Godkiller
2. Sunbringer
3. Not yet announced

Review: Naamah

Title: Naamah

Author: Sarah Blake

Genre: Strong Magical Realism feel, but it’s also set way back in biblical times so potentially Historical Fantasy … it’s definitely weird and fantasy-adjacent, but it’s hard to nail down

Trigger Warnings: Death, child death, animal death (graphic), pregnancy, childbirth, excrement, gore, sexual content, infidelity, unreality, incest

Back Cover:

A wildly imaginative novel of the reluctant heroine who rescued life on earth.

With the coming of the Great Flood—the mother of all disasters—only one family was spared, drifting on an endless sea, waiting for the waters to subside. We know the story of Noah, moved by divine vision to launch their escape. Now, in a work of astounding invention, acclaimed writer Sarah Blake reclaims the story of his wife, Naamah, the matriarch who kept them alive. Here is the woman torn between faith and fury, lending her strength to her sons and their wives, caring for an unruly menagerie of restless creatures, silently mourning the lover she left behind. Here is the woman escaping into the unreceded waters, where a seductive angel tempts her to join a strange and haunted world. Here is the woman tormented by dreams and questions of her own—questions of service and self-determination, of history and memory, of the kindness or cruelty of fate.

In fresh and modern language, Blake revisits the story of the Ark that rescued life on earth, and rediscovers the agonizing burdens endured by the woman at the heart of the story. Naamah is a parable for our time: a provocative fable of body, spirit, and resilience.

Review:

This book is dark, graphic, occasionally gross, and above all extremely weird. “Wildly imaginative” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I picked it up mainly because I am all about mildly-to-severely blasphemous retellings of Bible stories. The story of Noah’s Ark, told from the perspective of Noah’s wife who doesn’t seem to be fully on board with their deity’s decision to genocide the world, seemed right up my alley. And there were indeed many things to like in this book.

Things I liked about Naamah:

• A raw and deeply human story about unnamed and unconsidered Biblical women (Naamah herself, but also her sons’ wives)
• The logistics of keeping eight people and probably thousands of animals alive and sane on a boat for nearly a year
• The emotions that come with being on a boat with a bunch of animals for nearly a year and basically being the only survivors of an intentional apocalypse
• Naamah herself, a woman who meets the living God face-to-face and still tells him to fuck off

As for what I didn’t like quite so much:

Now, I am no stranger to weird books. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that I generally enjoy weird books. But this book is so weird in so many directions that I’m not at all sure what I’m supposed to make of it. It’s practically plotless, held together by sex scenes and extensive dream sequences, and for something that’s ostensibly some kind of Biblical reimagining contains a whole bunch of nonsense that doesn’t seem to fit anything.

We should probably talk about Abraham’s wife Sarai showing up as a time-traveling god-like figure. Or the sentient bird that can only talk when he’s sharing Naamah’s dreams. Or the angel living underwater with a bunch of dead children. Or that scene where Sarai takes Naamah to the present day and she watches Law & Order: SVU. We should probably talk about it, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to make of any of this.

Naamah has a unique problem where if you cut out the sex scenes, the dream sequences, and the weird stuff that feels discordant with the rest of the book, there isn’t a book. It’s part slice-of-life on the Ark and part magical mystical unreality I-don’t-even-know-what. I appreciate the sacrilege and the symbolism of Noah’s wife questioning the atrocity of the flood. But I’m unsure of the plot, point, purpose, moral, or any reason for this book to exist, and I’m unsure if there is one to find.

Is Naamah a good book? I’m not even sure how you judge a book like this. When I finished it, I found myself scrambling for meaning because there must surely be a point or idea or theme or something here, right? I was left with an overwhelming sense of what-in-the-world-did-I-just-read befuddlement. I legitimately have no idea what I’m supposed to take away from this story. Naamah has me well and truly stumped.

Review: City of Blades

Title: City of Blades

Series: The Divine Cities #2

Author: Robert Jackson Bennett

Genre: Fantasy

Trigger Warnings: Death, blood, gore, violence, war, body horror, child death, parent death (mentions), body horror, grief, murder, confinement, PTSD, trauma flashbacks, racism, sexual assault (mentions), slavery (in past), colonialism

Spoiler Warning: This book is second in a series, and reading beyond this point will expose you to spoilers of the first book, City of Stairs.

Back Cover:

The city of Voortyashtan was once the home of the goddess of death, war and destruction, but now it’s little more than a ruin. General Turyin Mulaghesh is called out of retirement and sent to this hellish place to find a Saypuri secret agent who’s gone AWOL in the middle of a mission. But the ghosts of past wars have followed her there, and soon she begins to wonder what happened to the souls in the afterlife when the gods were defeated by her people. Do the dead sleep soundly in the land of death? Or do they have plans of their own?

Review:

After being surprised by the stunningly intricate world of City of Stairs, I was excited to continue the series. However, I was less excited when I found out book two followed not Shara, the protagonist of City of Stairs, but General Mulaghesh, a secondary character who didn’t get a lot of focus on book one. She was a perfectly fine character in a secondary role, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to spend an entire book with her.

Switching protagonists in the second book is always a risk, and for a while I didn’t think it was going to work out. I just didn’t like older, gruff career soldier Mulaghesh as much as I liked nerdy, clever Shara. But the stunningly intricate, richly detailed world is the best part of the series, and eventually it drew me back in. And by the halfway point, I had grown to like Mulaghesh, a semi-retired, traumatized soldier just trying to do the right thing.

There was less mythology in this book. Some of that is because the reader already has the context from book one and a lot of the details about the world and the divinities don’t need to be explained again. Some of that is because Mulaghesh is not a nerd like Shara and cares significantly less about the finer points of magic and dead divinities. There was some, but it was only plot-relevant details and less exploring interesting things. Although I did very much enjoy learning about a new divinity who was barely mentioned in book one.

The plot was a wild twisty thing. If you tried to put it in a box, the best option is probably “mystery,” but that’s way too small a word. Mulaghesh isn’t just trying to figure out who is behind this, but also why they’re doing it and what they’re even doing in the first place. There’s lots of investigating, which generally turns up weird stuff, and Mulaghesh doing her best to make the weird stuff mean something. If the world itself wasn’t so complex and detailed, I don’t think I would have put up with such a complex plot. But the Divine Cities series has one of the most intricate and detailed worlds I’ve read, so I was perfectly happy to puzzle through the baffling clues to a complicated mystery.

On occasion, though, the complexity tipped over into frustrating. In this case, there were valid reasons for keeping some secrets, bit nobody wanted to give Mulaghesh any useful information and after a while it got annoying. Conversely, nobody wanted to listen to Mulaghesh either, even though doing so would have saved a lot of trouble. And in the climax, every single possible thing that could get in her way did, which felt forced and overdone.

City of Blades wasn’t boring, but it was definitely slower paced. Personally, I think it could have been shorter. I also didn’t enjoy it as much as book one overall (but let’s be honest, very few sequels are as good as the first book). I still think this world is amazing, and I do intend to read book three, if for nothing else than I love learning about this setting and its dead divinities.

The Divine Cities series:

1. City of Stairs
2. City of Blades
3. City of Miracles

Review: City of Stairs

Title: City of Stairs

Series: The Divine Cities #1

Author: Robert Jackson Bennett

Genre: Fantasy

Trigger Warnings: Death, blood, gore, injury, violence, child death (mentions), body horror (brief), religious bigotry, homophobia, torture, self-harm, racism, nationalism, slavery (mentions – in the past), unreality (minor), murder, colonialism, grief (minor), sexual content (mentions)

Back Cover:

An atmospheric and intrigue-filled novel of dead gods, buried histories, and a mysterious, protean city–from one of America’s most acclaimed young science fiction writers.

The city of Bulikov once wielded the powers of the gods to conquer the world, enslaving and brutalizing millions–until its divine protectors were killed. Now Bulikov has become just another colonial outpost of the world’s new geopolitical power, but the surreal landscape of the city itself–first shaped, now shattered, by the thousands of miracles its guardians once worked upon it–stands as a constant, haunting reminder of its former supremacy.

Into this broken city steps Shara Thivani. Officially, the unassuming young woman is just another junior diplomat sent by Bulikov’s oppressors. Unofficially, she is one of her country’s most accomplished spies, dispatched to catch a murderer. But as Shara pursues the killer, she starts to suspect that the beings who ruled this terrible place may not be as dead as they seem–and that Bulikov’s cruel reign may not yet be over.

Review:

My interest in this book when I picked it up was about as weak as that back cover. I was curious about the shattered city and dead gods, but I fully expected this to be either a DNF or just okay.

And to start with, it was. The story starts by introducing two different caracters before we finally get our protagonist, a tiny, bookish covert agent who goes to a broken conquered city full of resentful conquered people to investigate a murder. The person murdered was a professor who was probably murdered for studying the history of the conquered people that they themselves aren’t allowed to know. It was, honestly, not that interesting, and I was fairly ambivalent about the characters. I really wasn’t emotionally invested at all.

What I stayed for was the setting. I love dead, dying, or surreally-altered architecture, which Bulikov has in spades. I was very intrigued by the group of people that conquered the world with their gods until a people they enslaved found a way to kill the gods and become the new rulers of the world. I was interested in the way the naming conventions seemed to draw parallels between the two clashing cultures of the book and real-world Russia and India even though everything else seemed entirely uncoupled from the real world. I was curious about the architecture and how it got so dang weird. But honestly, I was mostly intrigued by the dead gods and the people who still wanted to worship them.

And then little by little, there kept being more.

There is so much to this story. Characters that on the surface seemed like a mousy-looking but fairly competent bureaucrat, her gigantic bodyguard, a governor who’d been in the military so long she couldn’t let go of military habits, and a host of secondary and minor characters turned out to have fascinating backstories, remarkable depth, and a lot to love, care about, and root for. A plot that seemed to be a fairly straightforward murder mystery kept uncovering layers upon layers of secrets, divine magic, historical ties, and people who are not at all what they seem.

And the setting. I’m a sucker for cool gods, interesting mythologies, worlds where the gods did exist but now they’re dead, and messed-up cities. But this world is the kind of setting that people describe as “lush” and “richly imagined.” There is so much to it. History, mythology, government, myth, magic tied to divinity (both when the gods were around and after they were killed), racial and geographical and historical tensions, historical research … there is so much. Every detail of this world is rich and vibrant and alive and singing a siren song that makes me want to know everything about it.

I was more than halfway through before I started getting emotionally invested, but once this book got its hooks into me, it wasn’t going to let go. I loved Shara and her longing for home and her “I guess this is the nonsense I’m dealing with now” attitude when things kept going wrong. (She didn’t jump off the page as much as other characters but I liked her nonetheless.) I loved her secretary Sigrud and his story. I loved the weird magical rules based on divine beings and whether or not they’re dead. I loved the vivid, detailed history of this world. I loved how the world itself emphasizes the importance of history and if old gods can fit into a new world and if they even should. And I love how deeply, fascinatingly layered this story is. Shara pulls on one thread – who murdered this one guy? – and finds a massive tangled knot of history, secrets, and obscured reality. There is so much to learn and uncover almost to the last page.

I thought the back cover was weak because it focused on the city and the world instead of whatever is happening. But the focus on the city and the world and its history is the best part. I want to know everything about this world and its dead gods. I am absolutely reading the next book.

The Divine Cities trilogy:

1. City of Stairs
2. City of Blades
3. City of Miracles

Review: Who Fears Death

Title: Who Fears Death

Author: Nnedi Okorafor

Genre: Post-Apocalyptic/Fantasy

Trigger Warnings: Death, violence, genocide, ethnic cleansing, slavery (mentions), blood, gore, pregnancy, rape (graphic), attempted rape, infidelity, sexual content, sexual content between minors, animal death, excrement, body horror, murder, parent death, child death, romantic partner death, major character death, suicidal ideation, incest (mentions), child sexual abuse (mentions), medical content

Back Cover:

In a post-apocalyptic Africa, the world has changed in many ways, yet in one region genocide between tribes still bloodies the land. After years of enslaving the Okeke people, the Nuru tribe has decided to follow the Great Book and exterminate the Okeke tribe for good. An Okeke woman who has survived the annihilation of her village and a terrible rape by an enemy general wanders into the desert hoping to die. Instead, she gives birth to an angry baby girl with hair and skin the color of sand. Gripped by the certainty that her daughter is different—special—she names her child Onyesonwu, which means “Who Fears Death?” in an ancient tongue.

From a young age, stubborn, willful Onyesonwu is trouble. It doesn’t take long for her to understand that she is physically and socially marked by the circumstances of her violent conception. She is Ewu—a child of rape who is expected to live a life of violence, a half-breed rejected by both tribes.

But Onye is not the average Ewu. As a child, Onye’s singing attracts owls. By the age of eleven, she can change into a vulture. But these amazing abilities are merely the first glimmers of a remarkable unique magic. As Onye grows, so do her abilities—soon she can manipulate matter and flesh, or travel beyond into the spiritual world. During an inadvertent visit to this other realm she learns something terrifying: someone powerful is trying to kill her.

Desperate to elude her would-be murderer, and to understand her own nature, she seeks help from the magic practitioners of her village. But, even among her mother’s people, she meets with frustrating prejudice because she is Ewu and female. Yet Onyesonwu persists.

Eventually her magical destiny and her rebellious nature will force her to leave home on a quest that will be perilous in ways that Onyesonwu can not possibly imagine. For this journey will cause her to grapple with nature, tradition, history, true love, the spiritual mysteries of her culture, and ultimately to learn why she was given the name she bears: Who Fears Death?

Review:

Note: This review discusses rape in several places because rape is an essential plot point. If rape is a trigger for you, take care of yourself and skip both this book and this review.

I was not all that excited to read this book. In fact, I passed over it several times because that back cover just didn’t sound appealing. But then I read The Book of Phoenix, which happened to be a prequel to this one. I loved The Book of Phoenix, so I decided I might as well give Who Fears Death a shot.

I have a lot to say about this book, and most of it has to do with the book overall. The details were, for the most part, strong. One of the best part of all of Nnedi’s books are the africanfuturism settings that beautifully combines technology just advanced enough from what we have to make it sci-fi with enthralling small villages and great deserts in near-future Africa. The worldbuilding is absolutely stellar.

Where it struggles is everywhere else. The story here feels very much like one of Nnedi’s “woman who is hated and feared for some aspect of how she was born goes on a long journey to nowhere in particular” plots (see Noor and Remote Control), just with more setup – Onyesonwu doesn’t leave the village until over halfway through the book. But this book attempts to give Onyesonwu’s travels in the desert a destination and a purpose. The purpose makes the desert-wandering feeling seem incongruous, and the desert-wandering feeling makes the purpose feel cheap and unnecessary. I just didn’t think it worked.

That’s how the book felt overall – like the story was trying to smash together two very different approaches and not succeeding at either. It took ideas for a plot-focused book – a uniquely powerful main character with a unique appearance who learns to use her innate magic to fulfill the prophecy that she will end the great evil plaguing the land – and tried to shove them into a character-focused story.

I’m using “character-focused” in the loosest sense of the term, because the focus is on only Onyesonwu’s rage. She very clearly has every right to be angry, but that is the only thing that seems to matter in this book. It glosses over interesting plot happenings and interesting character development alike. The story is driven by Onyesonwu getting angry, doing something incredibly stupid (which she usually recognizes was stupid as soon as she calms down), and then having to deal with the consequences.

Who Fears Death is also unrelentingly violent. It’s said right on the back cover that Onyesonwu was born from rape. What isn’t mentioned is that that rape is described in graphic detail multiple times, as well as several other rapes and one attempted rape. There’s also murder, genocide, physical violence, and more, all described with vivid, bloody thoroughness. (There was also some fairly graphic consensual sexual content between two minors, which wasn’t actually violent but still very uncomfortable.) It was very hard to read in many places, but in some ways it felt like that was the point. I mean this in the best possible way, but it felt a bit like the author was using the process of writing this to work through some stuff. There’s a scene in the book where Onyesonwu is trying to convince her village that genocide is really happening and they need to act. Nobody is listening to her, so she uses her magic to broadcast her mother’s experience of being raped to every one of them. In a way, this book feels a lot like it’s trying to do the same thing. There was a strong sense of “All of this has happened to real people in other places, the least you can do is read about it.”

I finished reading this not because I particularly wanted to, but because by the time I got around to thinking about switching to a different audiobook, I was two hours from the end and I figured I might as well finish. The whole story felt flat – not as in without depth or emotion, but as in without variation. There was no rising and falling action, no moments of heightened conflict or moments of respite. Onyesonwu’s rage was constant, the pace was constant, the violence never stopped, and the climax didn’t even feel like a climax because the pace and rage and violence were exactly the same as the rest of the book. I found the ending profoundly unsatisfying, for reasons that include spoilers: Onyesonwu attacked the antagonist twice with magic and spent half a year walking across the desert just so she could use her rage and her magic to kill him, only to fall in a terrified sobbing heap the instant she saw him in person, leaving her romantic partner to do the thing she went all that way to do.

What I wanted from this book was something plot-focused. More about Onyesonwu learning to use her magic and the strange spiritual world of the Wilderness, magic as a weapon and a tool with more details about its possibilities and limitations, the prophecy leading to a quest-style journey, a climax that involved a great magical duel between Onyesonwu and the antagonist. I also would have accepted something that made magic and prophecies the backdrop to a friends-to-lovers romance, complicated but unbreakable friendships, an antagonist-to-surrogate-father relationship with her magic teacher, and self-reflection and love and advice from friends leading to personal growth and fewer rash actions. But Who Fears Death tried to do both at the same time, and ended up making something that wasn’t satisfying on either level.

Review: Kaikeyi

Title: Kaikeyi

Author: Vaishnavi Patel

Genre: Historical Fantasy

Trigger Warnings: Sexism, misogyny, death, grief, war, violence, blood, abandonment, domestic abuse (mentions), parent death (mentions), infertility (mentions), forced marriage, pregnancy, religious bigotry (minor), animal death, sexual content with dubious consent (mentions)

Back Cover:

In the vein of Madeline Miller’s Circe comes a bold and sweeping debut that reimagines the life of Kaikeyi, the vilified queen of the Indian epic the Ramayana.

“I was born on the full moon under an auspicious constellation, the holiest of positions—much good it did me.”

So begins Kaikeyi’s story, that of a young woman determined to create her own destiny in a world where gods and men dictate the shape of things to come. But as she transforms herself from an overlooked princess into a warrior, diplomat, and most-favored queen, Kaikeyi’s will clashes with the path that has been chosen for her family. And she must decide if her resistance is worth the destruction it will wreak.

Review:

I have to start out by saying that I have not read the Ramayana, although it is on my list of things to read eventually. So I had zero context going into this. But I do know I love reading books in interesting settings (ancient India certainly fits that bill) and usually enjoy vilified characters getting to tell their side of the story, especially when said character is a warrior queen fighting against society and the gods themselves to make her mark. I didn’t know if I was going to get an anti-hero or a heroine whose story got told only by her enemies, but I was excited to find out.

Kaikeyi herself was a fantastic character. As a woman, her purpose in life was to be married off; as a princess, she learned a lot about politics and diplomacy; as a stubborn sister, she convinced her brother to teach her to fight and drive a war chariot. She is also on-page aro-ace, making the eventual marriage an even worse prospect. And she also has a magic that lets her influence others’ thoughts and feelings, which adds an extra dimension to the politics. She wants equality for herself and other women, and she will use all the tools available to fight for it.

There is a lot of politics and diplomacy in this book. Normally that’s something I don’t enjoy, but Kaikeyi’s magic and its uses in getting her way made it tolerable and sometimes even enjoyable. I also love reading about characters who are good at what they do, and Kaikeyi is very, very good at what she does. I’m sure some of it is the magic, but she’s also had a lot of practice and is determined to make life better and more equal for women. Somehow even the fully political parts never crossed the line into dull.

I very nearly did not finish this book, and that is not at all the book’s fault. I’ve been under a lot of stress related to an unnecessarily complicated and frustrating move, and apparently my emotions are a little raw. As the book moved towards the end and things kept getting worse and worse as the climax approached, I nearly stopped – not because I didn’t want to see how it ended, but because I couldn’t handle the emotional intensity. I assumed it would have a sad, tragic, likely violent ending (again, have not read the Ramayana, but “vilified queens” rarely have happy endings in any mythology) and I liked Kaikeyi too much to want to watch that happen.

But I pushed through and I survived (and the ending wasn’t nearly as tragic as I expected). And I am very glad I stuck it out. Even without the context of knowing the Ramayana, Kaikeyi is a great book. I suspect that it would be even more interesting and engaging to someone who knows the original myths of the queen who is reimagined in these pages.