Chapter Two Hundred Sixty-Three: The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina

Before I get into the book review, apologies for my extended absence from this blog!  October is a very busy month in our extended family (FOUR birthdays, plus our anniversary), and somehow once Halloween is past, Thanksgiving and Christmas seem to be upon us in rapid succession.  But now that the rush is (mostly) past, I'm determined to get back to more regular posts in the new year (and the rest of this one).  So I'll start with a book I read right around Thanksgiving.

The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina by Zoraida Cordova is an enchanting work of magical realism that will appeal to fans of Alice Hoffman's Practical Magic and Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus.  The story begins when Orquídea, as an old woman, summons her many descendants back to the family home for one last visit before the moment she knows she will die.  When they arrive, they find that her death is not exactly to be a natural one: she is being slowly turned into an enormous tree.  There are clues that this transformation is due, in part, to some heretofore unmentioned enemy, and Orquídea's granddaughter Marimar, as well as two of her cousins and one of their children, whom Orquídea blesses by bestowing living flowers onto their bodies, are determined to seek out answers.  The story follows two timelines from there: Orquídea's past and her grandchildren's present.  Orquídea lived a rough childhood, and this is as much family saga as fantasy quest.  For a story based so much on people, the characters sometimes felt a little distant to me, but the plot was interesting enough to keep me eagerly reading, and I enjoyed how the pieces of the puzzle came together in the end.

Chapter Two Hundred Sixty-Two: The Book of Eels

I heard about The Book of Eels: Our Enduring Fascination with the Most Mysterious Creature in the Natural World by Patrik Svensson from a patron at the library, and the title alone was enough to pique my interest.  Finally, at a loose end for an audiobook recently, I found that I'd made a note of this title and it was available to borrow, so I went for it.  I enjoyed some parts immensely, while others were distinctly off-putting.  Mostly the off-putting parts involved detailed descriptions of ways to kill an eel (luckily a minor part of the book) and occasionally ways they would ensnare themselves in fishing lines (also mercifully a small portion of the tale, though there is much eel fishing).  Possibly I was also a little discomfited because I could picture the movement of eels fairly well thanks to this weird article from the New York Times about moray eels (worth looking at for the captions to the photos, if nothing else).

The most wonderful parts reminded me of H Is for Hawk by  Helen Macdonald, which I enjoyed thoroughly about five years ago; that is to say, sometimes The Book of Eels offered a marvelous combination of fascinating facts about eels with moving nature descriptions and deeply-felt personal history, mostly of the author as a child with his father.  Eels are enigmatic creatures, unwilling to yield their secrets to researchers, despite their ongoing efforts, which adds to their allure.  The Book of Eels offers a brief glimpse into their world.

Chapter Two Hundred Sixty-One: How To Prepare for Climate Change

I listened to the audiobook of David Pogue's surprisingly funny manual, How To Prepare for Climate Change after hearing that he'll be the keynote speaker for the Massachusetts Library System's climate prep week events later this month.  I had cataloged the print book a little while back and was both intrigued (because it seems like it will be relevant) and put off.  (Shouldn't we be busy trying to slow climate change rather than preparing for its effects?  In fact, Pogue says, we should all do both, but this book is more about preparing.)  

While a few parts were downright frightening to consider, it actually didn't leave me feeling worse than I generally do about the future of the world (an admittedly low bar, but still), and some parts even made me feel mildly hopeful.  In fact, one of the later chapters in the book is about the importance of maintaining some level of hope in the future, otherwise depression is likely, and depression is the enemy of accomplishing most things, like mitigating one's own environmental impact as well as preparing for the effects of climate change that are, at this point, inevitable.  (Really, it's a funny book at times, or at least the audiobook has its moments of humor, albeit often slightly dark humor.)

Whether or not you want to read this book, I can guarantee some parts of it will be relevant to you, if not now, then soon.  That being said, most of the content won't be directly relevant to most readers (Who lives in an area prone to both wildfires and hurricanes, for example?  Is there such a place?), so this is a title that, unless you've got a deep interest in the subject, I'd suggest getting in print form (not e-book or audio) so you can skim through to the parts that are relevant.  Maybe you're interested in investing your money in climate-responsible ways--check out just that chapter!  Or maybe you don't have any investments but want to know how to prepare your home for flooding.  (Did you know home insurance almost never includes flood damage?  Pogue has a chapter on insurance, too.)  All of this is to say, I think everyone will benefit in some way from reading at least parts of How To Prepare for Climate Change, and this guide makes a huge and scary topic more accessible and manageable.

Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty: Malice

I'd read a review of Heather Walter's debut novel, Malice, a few months ago, and I was excited when the library's e-book became available to me.  While the writing and relationships ended up being a bit more predictable than I liked (and not because it's part one of a reimagining of Sleeping Beauty), the premise and world-building were interesting enough to keep me reading until the end.  I was particularly intrigued by how magic works in the world created here; it seems to be not so much inherited as inherent in everything, though only some have the ability to manipulate it, which can be a curse as much as a blessing.  It's not the most subtle read, but if you want a modern fantasy with a dash of romance and plenty of angst, Malice provides admirably.

Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Nine: A Memory Called Empire AND A Desolation Called Peace

Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Eight: Unorthodox

I've been reading a lot of fiction lately, and I decided I was in the mood for a change, so I looked in Libby for a non-fiction book that was both available now and interesting.  Deborah Feldman's memoir of leaving the Satmar Hasidic Jewish community was the answer.  It's a fascinating look inside a pocket of life in the U.S. of which I was pretty much unaware.  If you liked Tara Westover's Educated, you'll be interested in Unorthodox.  You know from early on that both women left their insular religious communities; the interest in their stories is in both how they left and in the inside look at the communities they had been a part of.  Plus, there's a Netflix miniseries based on Unorthodox, which maybe I'll watch at some point.  Feldman also wrote a second memoir, Exodus, which picks up (I think) where Unorthodox leaves off.  I'll definitely be interested in reading it at some point, though Unorthodox was a very intense read, so I'm ready for a break back into fiction for the moment.  But I'd highly recommend this book.

Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Seven: Broken (in the Best Possible Way)

I was so excited a few months back when I learned that Jenny Lawson (known on the Internet as The Bloggess) had a new essay collection coming out this spring, and it did not disappoint!  I listened to the audiobook--read by the author--and it was so good that I actually looked forward to my commute.  If you're unfamiliar with Jenny Lawson, I would describe her writing as in the vein of David Sedaris, particularly in her ability to find humor in the everyday, but with more of a focus on mental and physical health.  

Anyway, Broken (in the Best Possible Way) has everything I've come to expect and enjoy from Jenny Lawson's books: a look at life from someone else's (very funny) perspective, a look at a variety of mental health issues that I'm not super familiar with, a good helping of weird animal stories (but not the kind of animal stories where your heart gets broken), and a heaping dose of earnest quirkiness.  If you have a sense of humor at all, or if you enjoy personal essays, this is a book worth checking out.  

Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Six: A Walk Around the Block

Normally Spike Carlsen's A Walk Around the Block is the kind of book I'd listen to, rather than read, but it wasn't available as an audiobook, and I'm so glad I decided to try it in print!  I thoroughly enjoyed this look at the infrastructure of daily life.  From the true cost of lawns to what happens to your recycling at the sorting centers to road sign trivia and beyond, this book is full of fun and fascinating facts.  It's given me a new appreciation for the objects that I encounter so often that I've stopped noticing them.  Plus, this is a fairly quick read, and it's generally light and entertaining.  If you want a new appreciation of the world around you, this is the book for you.

Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Five: Prairie Lotus

I dipped back into the world of middle grade fiction to read Prairie Lotus by Linda Sue Park.  Since it's written for younger readers, this is quick to read, but it will stay with me for a while as I both enjoyed its story and appreciated the work it does to portray a more accurately diverse picture of an often romanticized and whitewashed time: the heyday of the American frontier.  

Prairie Lotus, set in the late 1800s, is the story of a 14-year-old girl, Hanna, who wants nothing more than to attend school and someday soon become a dressmaker, and whose father is white and whose late mother was Chinese.  Father and daughter settle into a new prairie town in Dakota Territory--not unlike the town where Laura Ingalls Wilder of the Little House books lived as a teen--and in fact, Hanna meets a girl, Bess, not unlike the young Laura.  But, as with the other places where they've tried to settle, Hanna and her father are confronted with racism against Hanna.  However, unlike in the other towns where they've tried to settle, a few of the white people in this town are willing to support Hanna and her father, despite the prejudice most of the townspeople express, and the story ends on a cautiously hopeful note.  

This is excellent historical fiction for older kids (and I know a few other adults who really enjoyed Prairie Lotus), and you don't have to be familiar with the Little House books to appreciate it: its story and characters stand on their own merit.  If you like historical fiction, this is well worth reading.

Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Four: The Seep

What if an invasion of non-corporeal aliens made everyone kinder and more accepting (if also sort of high most of the time), and also solved climate change?  That's where Chana Porter's novel The Seep begins.  

At first, and for years after the invasion, trans woman Trina Goldberg-Oneka enjoys these changes along with most of the rest of humankind.  But by the time she's fifty, Trina's wife has decided to be reborn as an infant (which is possible, due to the alien substance called Seep, which is how the aliens control humans).  Trina is devastated and sinks into alcoholism until a random encounter with a boy who's grown up sheltered from the Seep startles her out of her stupor and into action.  (If this seems like a spoiler, don't worry: it's not more than you'd get from the back of the book.)  

The Seep is way more upbeat than this semi-dystopian vision may sound, and I appreciated how many questions it hints at but doesn't raise directly, leaving them to readers to ponder (or not).  It's one of the weirder books I've read lately, but in the best possible way: it was refreshing and original and I couldn't guess how it would end.  If you enjoy alien invasion stories, or if you're interested in a very different vision of the future, this novel might be for you.

Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Three: The Ten Thousand Doors of January

Alix Harrow's debut novel, The Ten Thousand Doors of January, had been vaguely on my radar as something I might enjoy, and then a friend suggested it, too.  I'm so glad I finally read it!  It was captivating.

The basic premise is this: there are Doors that lead between worlds.  We follow a young girl named January--whose "in-between" skin has meant that she never fits in anywhere and faces suspicion (and worse) everywhere--as she begins to grow up and to learn more about these Doors, both from her own experiences and from a mysterious book.  Of course, she has dangerous and powerful enemies.  The villains are suitably evil, and while they're mostly one-dimensional, the chief villain has enough dimensions to be a believable and interesting character.  January is a dynamic character who starts the story with plenty of room to grow, and it's a pleasure to see how she changes.  The various settings are most fun of all, though.  I love Harrow's depictions of the worlds through the Doors; they're so varied and vivid.

The Ten Thousand Doors of January is equal parts coming-of-age, adventure, mystery, and fantasy; if you like any of those, it's worth a look, and if you like all of those, it's a must-read.

Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Two: The Forgotten Beasts of Eld

I've been reading mostly fairly recently published books, lately, and I was wanting something a little different when a friend recommended that I check out anything by Patricia A. McKillip.  The name was vaguely familiar to me as a writer of fantasy whose heyday was maybe the 1980s, and I decided to borrow whatever I could find by her that was available as a library e-book.  Thus, I came to read The Forgotten Beasts of Eld, which was her second published novel.  

It's an enchanted tale, with a much calmer pace and more detached feel than most of what I've been reading lately, but that's not to say that not much happens or that there aren't deep emotions.  Neither of those statements is true; this is just a story that is unafraid to take its time, drawing readers in by backstory, setting, and its lore of magical creatures before unveiling more of the protagonist's inner workings and allowing those to propel the story through hatred, deceit, and war to its delightful, surprising conclusion.  About halfway through, I went fairly suddenly from not feeling that invested in the main character, Sybel, to finding myself distraught by her choices and hoping things would work out for the best but fearing they wouldn't, or couldn't--and then I could hardly put the book down until it was done.  It's definitely not for readers who don't enjoy or aren't in the mood for a traditional fantasy novel, but if you do enjoy that genre, then you'll likely appreciate this tale.

Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-One: The Dark Archive

I've been following Genevieve Cogman's Invisible Library series for a few years now, so naturally I was very excited this winter to read the most recent installment, The Dark Archive (book 7, if you're keeping track).  It drew me in just as quickly and thoroughly as the previous books!  If you're not familiar with this series, they're fantasy books for adults that involve multiple worlds, spies, thieves, detectives, dragons, fae, and just the tiniest hint of romance.  The writing is snarky and fun; the characters can be slightly stock but are delightful nonetheless; the action and adventure are practically nonstop.  I don't want to write too much more about this book, to avoid giving away spoilers for earlier in the series, but if you enjoy fantasy and plenty of action, I highly recommend this series.  It's always good for distraction and amusement.

Chapter Two Hundred Fifty: We Ride upon Sticks

I thoroughly enjoyed this novel!  We Ride upon Sticks, by Quan Barry, is set in Danvers, MA, so it has local interest for me, taking place in a town right near where I grew up.  It follows the 1989 Danvers High School varsity field hockey team in their quest to go from the second-worst team in the league to the state championships.  How do they decide to get there?  A little modern-day witchcraft, of course.  That's where the second component of this tale comes in; let's call it a remix of the Salem Witch Trials, but mercifully 100% less deadly.

One thing that really stood out about this book is its narration, from the third person plural.  It's never clear exactly who's narrating, and I came to decide it was the team itself, somehow, though I'll admit that doesn't make sense entirely.  I can't quite square it in my head how that would work, but to me that felt like part of the magic at work in this story.  Or maybe it's The Claw or Le Splotch, which both get ascribed dark intentions and uncanny actions--you'll simply have to read the book to find out more about Them (always referred to capitally, even via pronoun).  That should also give you a taste of this story's humor, which was a major plus for me.  I love a funny book, and this one often had me chuckling aloud as I read.

Equally impressive is Barry's ability to create such a large cast of principal characters--a whole field hockey team's worth!--as well as secondary characters who all feel distinct.  In a lesser book, it could feel hard to keep the characters straight and separate in my mind, but each of the team members was so well-characterized that I had no trouble keeping them clear, which was essential since the story focuses on different characters at different times.  It was a wild ride, but I was happily along for it!  

We Ride upon Sticks reminded me a bit of Grady Hendrix's novels My Best Friend's Exorcism and The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires, though it was definitely lighter than either of those titles, so I enjoyed it even more than I liked those books.  Despite the witchcraft elements, it reads far more like realistic fiction than fantasy; above all, it's a story of friendship and self-discovery.  If you're looking for a coming-of-age story that manages to blend humor with more serious themes, it's well worth checking out.

Chapter Two Hundred Forty-Nine: The Black God's Drums

The Black God's Drums is a captivating novella by P. Djèlí Clark set in an alternate-history New Orleans.  It's amazing how much world-building and characterization are contained in this slim novella: at just over 100 pages in print, Clark manages to convey the details of a world where the American Civil War dragged on for eight years before an unsteady truce was brokered, partly as a result of a slave uprising in New Orleans, which resulted in the designation of the Crescent City as a free and independent entity from the Union and the Confederacy, where African Americans are still enslaved at the time of the story (late 1800s) and kept submissive by forced inhalation of a gas that destroys their free will.  Haiti has emerged as a world power in this universe, partly as the result of a fantastic weapon they invented that allows them to unleash a storm worse than the most intense hurricane wherever they choose.  (They've only tried that once, but the threat was enough to gain them a place on the world stage.)  

There are gods, too--one of whom resides partially with the protagonist, Creeper (real name: Jacqueline), who both offers Creeper useful warnings and also sometimes tries to get her to act in ways she doesn't want to.  Creeper feels fully formed from the start, even if her street-urchin, tomboy character is a bit of a trope, because of the way she speaks, her very keen observations of the world around her, and her thoughtful negotiations of the state of her co-existence with an old and powerful goddess.

In addition to all of this, there are airships!  It's alternate history meets science fiction meets fantasy meets steampunk all in one novella, and it just works.  If you have an hour or two to spare and you want to escape into another world, read this.

Chapter Two Hundred Forty-Eight: Can't Even

I finished Can't Even: How Millennials Became the Burnout Generation by Anne Helen Petersen last night, after a few heady days of feeling compelled to read it during almost any available moment, and now I want to recommend it to everyone I know, millennial or not (though I think it will appeal most to millennials).  

If you're a millennial yourself, there's a good chance you'll find at least parts of this book of cultural criticism cathartic and validating, and if you're in an older generation, I suspect it might offer some insights into millennials--or, if you disagree with Petersen's assessments of our lives, I suppose you might end up feeling that we're all just lazy and entitled whiners for daring to hope that life can be more than just near-constant work that barely allows us to maintain our parents' standard of living.  If you're in Gen Z, I'm not honestly sure how pertinent this book is to you, except to offer a critique of the currently prevailing trends, which you might use to try to avoid millennial problems altogether.

I will say that sometimes just reading this book for a while at a time made me feel a bit burned out and depressed, so as fascinating as it was, I wouldn't suggest trying to sit down and read it through all in one go.  Have something lighter on hand by way of a pick-me-up.  Still, it was nice to see so much of me reflected in this book--the good and the bad--and it was also nice to get insights into the experiences of people in my generation who grew up and currently live in very different circumstances from me.

Ultimately, I'd boil this book down to an explanation of why life often feels so hard for millennials and why it's okay to push against the things that make life so hard.  It's not a self-help book--the author explicitly avoids giving checklists or suggestions on quick fixes because those won't actually relieve the problems at hand--but it does offer a framework for reconsidering things like the compulsion to monetize every single moment of every single day and the internalization that if you have a job but don't have enough money (to save, to pay down student loans, to buy a house, to have kids, etc etc etc) it's entirely your fault for not working hard enough.

For anyone interested in millennials and our culture, this book offers lots of interesting insights.

Chapter Two Hundred Forty-Seven: Silver in the Wood & Drowned Country

About a month ago, my hold on Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh finally became available, and as soon as I was done, I regretted not having put the sequel on hold at the same time.  (I think I've finally learned that lesson, though.  I can always cancel the hold on the sequel, after all...)  This week, the sequel, Drowned Country, finally became available to me, and I devoured it as eagerly as the first book in this duology.  There are so many good things to say about Silver in the Wood  and Drowned Country that I'm going to go ahead with a list.

• Each book is short--less than 200 pages in print.  They're really more like novellas.  These days, I really appreciate a shorter read.
• The plot is engaging without being too fast-paced or stressful.  I don't want more stress from anywhere these days, especially not from my leisure reading.  Anything that can both hold my interest and not stress me out is huge for me right now.
• The writing is lovely.
• They're steeped in the natural world and folklore related to it.  While I'm generally into nature and plants and the outdoors, I think the nature-oriented setting and magic of these books has particular appeal for me at the moment, when it feels harder to safely enjoy the outdoors because of overcrowding at local parks and on local trails.
• There is romance, but it's not the only plot, and it's fairly subtle.  It's also between two male characters, which I appreciate in my general quest to read a variety of books about a variety of people.
• Finally, the covers are beautiful.  I know this isn't really a major thing, but it's an added bonus, even when reading the e-books, as I did.

There are probably other aspects to these books that I enjoyed and have already forgotten.  They really drew me into their lush, green, wild world.  They're fantasy, yes, for there is magic, but it's not overpowering... it feels more like folklore than fantasy, but folklore with character development and a modern feel to it.  If you truly don't enjoy elements of the fantastic, then these are likely not for you, but if you do at all enjoy fantasy or folklore, these are too short and wonderful not to read.

Chapter Two Hundred Forty-Six: In the Waves

Since I spent the last few days re-reading an old favorite--The Blue Castle, by L.M. Montgomery--because I needed something happy with an ending I already knew, I'll take this time to promote an audiobook that I really enjoyed a couple of months ago: In the Waves: My Quest to Solve the Mystery of a Civil War Submarine by Rachel Lance.

This is a work of nonfiction, and it follows Lance's PhD research into the sinking of Hunley, a Confederate submarine.  She manages to convey her fascination with the Hunley, believed to be the world's first successful combat submarine, without glorifying the Confederacy or what it represented.  

Given that this is an investigation of the sinking of a submarine and its crew during war, this book does have its fair share of... gore might be too strong a word, but not by much.  There are lots of explosions and plenty of the science behind them.  (If Mythbusters were based on a book, I suspect it would read very much like In the Waves.)  These more action-packed aspects are tempered by the reality of life as a PhD candidate, but even sections about funding and policies and procedures manage to be interesting.  In short, this is narrative nonfiction at its best.  It made for great listening and would likely be fun to read, too.  If you like Mythbusters or science writing or mysteries from history, this is worth a look.

Chapter Two Hundred Forty-Five: Light Changes Everything

Since I haven't yet finished a book since the last one I posted about, I'll use this opportunity to catch up on posting about one of the books I read during this blog's dark period.  Last winter, shortly before everything shut down, I read a book that I still sometimes think about: Light Changes Everything by Nancy E. Turner.  This is historical fiction, set in Arizona Territory (before statehood), starting in 1907.  This setting is part of what caught my interest, since I don't think I've read a single book set in Arizona Territory.  (Possibly I haven't read any books set in modern Arizona, either, though I've visited once or twice about two decades ago...)

Anyway, Light Changes Everything follows Mary Pearl Prine, the 17-year-old daughter of a small farmer who manages to gain acceptance to Wheaton College in far off, glamorous Illinois, by virtue of her drawings.  She turns down a wealthy suitor to pursue this opportunity, though life at college is not as she imagined it would be.  However, when she returns home for Christmas vacation, she's faced with some surprising changes there, too.  In fact, Mary Pearl is faced with rather more than her fair share of challenges and difficulties, but she has character and grit and self-respect to guide her way.

So far, I maybe haven't done justice to this book--the disadvantage of writing about it so long after having read it.  But I'm still thinking about it all these months after reading it, which says a lot.  I don't read a lot of historical fiction, but this one has really remained in my mind.  If you like historical fiction or novels with strong female protagonists, it's definitely worth a look.

Chapter Two Hundred Forty-Four: Witches of New York

Spurred on by the looming deadline of when my library e-book would return, I spent most of last night and this morning finishing up an enchanting novel: Witches of New York by Ami McKay.  Unfortunately, the sequel (Half Spent Was the Night) has a long waitlist, but I guess it's something to look forward to!  Possibly I'll even read some of McKay's earlier novels, though I decided a change of pace was in order for my next read.

Anyway, Witches of New York follows three young women--Eleanor, Adelaide, and Beatrice--as one becomes a witch, one learns to embrace her powers, and another uses her knowledge to guide them.  These are a trio of distinct characters, each with her own personality, motivations, faults, fears, and desires.  Plus, there's a benevolent magical raven on hand.  At no point did I have trouble keeping track of the main trio, or of the many and sundry side characters who populate the pages of this novel, which is wide in scope and perspective, being variously narrated by the three witches as well as by a few secondary characters.

The atmosphere is spot-on, with the writing style reminiscent of 1880s New York without feeling overly affected or stylized.  It both reads naturally and immerses the reader in the energetic, anything-is-possible feel of late nineteenth-century America.  Of course, the book is not purely optimistic; there's maybe even a little more than a fair share of grittiness, misery, and evil within these pages.  After all, there's no story without some conflict!

As for the witches' magic, it's far more herbal than Hogwarts.  There are no wands, though there are talismans, and herbs and traditions, dreams and intuition figure prominently.  It feels authentic, time-tested, and accessible.  If nothing else, I want to try harder to grow an herb garden and keep my own bees (as Eleanor does), though I don't truly expect any magic to come of it.  Anyway, the magic is more lore than high fantasy, so for readers who don't typically stray into speculative fiction but are open to it, Witches of New York could be a great entry-point, and for those who enjoy fantasy already, particularly historical fantasy, it's definitely worth reading for both its magic and its heroines.