Chapter Two Hundred Sixty-Seven: The Library of the Undead & Our Lady of Mysterious Ailments

The Library of the Undead by T.L Huchu has been lurking on my to-read list for a while, and a friend's recommendation of it combined with the sequel's availability at my library to impel me to push this surprisingly hopeful urban fantasy/dystopian future mashup to the top of the list.  Really, my only complaint about it is the protagonist's occasional bad grammar, which always annoys me in writing (or in speaking), but everything else about the book was so compelling that I didn't let that stop me.  The main character, Ropa, is a young-ish teenager, though the books are marketed and published as adult fiction.  (I could see teens also enjoying these books, though, and in fact the first title won an Alex Award for adult fiction that appeals to teens this year.)  

Anyway, Ropa lives in Edinburgh, Scotland, some years in the future from the present (hard to say how many, probably not more than 50).  Things are a bit dystopian, but that's not at all the focus of the story--though it makes for a fascinating setting that does have some impact on the plot, but not in the usual dystopian way of being a challenge that must be overcome to return to a golden age, which I really appreciated.  The most interesting thing about Ropa is that she can talk to ghosts--and that this is a licensed profession in Edinburgh, along with other types of magic.  When Ropa keeps meeting a ghost who desperately needs her help (though she can't afford to pay Ropa's fee) and Ropa's best friend gets a new job at a mysterious library, Ropa becomes involved in a whole new world of magic.

I won't write anything more to avoid spoilers, and I'll only say that I enjoyed the sequel, Our Lady of Mysterious Ailments, very much.  If you read fantasy or mystery and want something a bit off the beaten path, these books are well worth looking at.

Chapter Two Hundred Sixty-Six: A Sailor, a Chicken, an Incredible Voyage

While I'll be the first to admit that the writing in this true-life adventure is not the most literary or distinguished, A Sailor, a Chicken, an Incredible Voyage: The Seafaring Adventures of Guirec and Monique by Guirec Soudée is so much fun to read.  I'd already read (and thoroughly enjoyed) the picture book version of this adventure, The Hen Who Sailed Around the World (by the same author), so I was excited when the book for adults was translated into English.  (I could have read it in the original French (there's that college degree coming in handy), but it would have been a bit tricky to get my hands on a copy of the French edition here and I didn't want to trouble my friend in France to find and ship me a copy.)

Anyway, this book delivers exactly what you'd expect from the title: a personal narrative of the author's adventures.  He set off from Brittany at age 22 to sail solo across the Atlantic--he picked up Monique, the little red hen, by a happy chance in the Canary Islands--and ended up making his way up to Greenland, where he overwintered on the ice, through the Northwest Passage to Alaska, all the way down the coast of the Americas around Cape Horn near Antarctica, and over to the Cape of Good Hope on the southern tip of Africa before zigzagging his way from there across the Atlantic a couple more times to get back to France.  

It was a trip that was harrowing at times but full of beautiful landscapes and fascinating characters in different ports of call; however, it is the presence of the hen moved me to read this book.  What can I say?  I love my hens.  Having read the book, I still can't imagine my own hens enjoying a boat trip, though Monique seemed to thrive aboard ship and was happy and healthy enough to lay eggs for the author to eat.  In my view, the book is worth reading for the photos alone (where else will you see a chicken enjoying the Arctic ice?), though I got pretty quickly swept up in the story itself, curious to see how the author would deal with the many challenges he encountered in his long voyage.  If you're interested in sailing, or chicken stories, or memoirs, A Sailor, a Chicken, an Incredible Voyage is worth reading.

Chapter Two Hundred Sixty-Five: Provenance

I finally treated myself to Ann Leckie's novel Provenance, which is set in the same universe as her Ancillary Justice trilogy, which I'm realizing now that I neglected to write about here when I read them a few years ago.  Luckily for you, my dear readers, I want to re-read them now that I've read Provenance, so expect a post the next time around, for sure.  (I'm also realizing I didn't post about Leckie's standalone novel, The Raven Tower, which I finally listened to this fall and which was amazing.)  Anyway, you certainly don't need to have read any of her Ancillary novels to enjoy Provenance, as the setting is almost the only common element; the main characters are all new to this story.  It's a delightful cross between a caper and a space opera, with a bit of political intrigue for good measure.  

One element I've appreciated about all of Leckie's novels is that she doesn't pander to readers or get bogged down in explanations--so prepare to be confused when you start reading!  Leckie is a master of taking our assumptions, particularly about gender, and playing with them.  To me, this keeps things interesting and makes me curious enough that I'm willing to sit with the confusion--especially since, after reading her first book, I learned that she will reveal all the necessary information in due course, while weaving an intricate, character-driven tale that will leave you thinking about it after you've read the final page.

Chapter Two Hundred Sixty-Four: The Plant Hunter

Hands down, one of the most enjoyable audiobooks I've listened to lately was The Plant Hunter by Dr. Cassandra Leah Quave.  It's a memoir of her life so far, from a childhood of science fairs and surgeries (due to a below the knee amputation when she was three) to an adult life as a world-traveling ethnobotanist, PhD, wife, and mother.  All of it is fascinating and makes me want to drop everything and pursue ethnobotany, until I remember that unlike Dr. Quave, I am not suited to a life of rugged fieldwork in tropical and subtropical climates.  (For those of you wondering, her fieldwork involves interviewing locals who use native plants for medicinal purposes, then finding the plants, collecting samples, and studying how they might be applied in commercial pharmaceuticals.)  I appreciate how this memoir blends the author's personal and professional lives, showing how elements of each make the other possible.  It's an up-close view of a remarkable life, and I highly recommend it to listeners and readers who enjoy memoirs and science writing, obviously, but also those who enjoy character-driven fiction.