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.

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.