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.

Chapter Two Hundred Forty-Three: From a Certain Point of View

 I'm not a huge reader of short stories, but naturally when I saw that there was an anthology of Star Wars related stories in honor of the fortieth anniversary of A New Hope, I had to check it out.  From a Certain Point of View: 40 Stories Celebrating 40 Years of Star Wars features stories by--you guessed it--forty different authors, many of whom have written other Star Wars content.  (My personal favorite is Ian Doescher's William Shakespeare's Star Wars.)  But Meg Cabot also has a story in here (who knew she was into Star Wars?), as does Nnedi Okorafor (one of my favorite sf&f authors).  

Most of these stories offer the perspective or backstory of a relatively minor character--Nnedi Okorafor from the perspective of the monster in the trash compactor, Meg Cabot writes from Aunt Beru's perspective--or of a character who is maybe important to the plot but doesn't get much screen time--Ian Doescher writes from Emperor Palpatine's POV (in verse, of course).  Others are from more major characters--Cavan Scott's about Obi-Wan Kenobi, Gary D. Schmidt's about Yoda, Charles Soule's about Lando Calrissian--and some are from characters so minor they are not named in the movie or memorable to this casual fan of the films.  Almost all are thoroughly enjoyable--if you like Star Wars.  Assuming you do enjoy A New Hope, this collection is definitely worth a look, though I can't imagine it would be particularly enjoyable (or comprehensible) for those who aren't familiar with the film.

Chapter Two Hundred Forty-Two: Fighting Words

 Kimberly Brubaker Bradley's newest novel, Fighting Words, is one of the most compelling books I've read in 2020.  I was cataloging it at work, and I read the dust jacket copy, and I wondered how a book written for a middle-grade audience (ages 10-14, give or take) would possibly successfully deal with its topic in a way that was both authentic and age appropriate.  (It's about child sexual abuse--as an adult reading the copy, this is fairly obvious.)  

So I decided to take a look at the first page, to see how it seemed--and I was immediately hooked, despite the fact that I almost never enjoy realistic fiction for tweens & teens, never mind "issue-oriented" fiction.  It's narrated by a ten-year-old girl, and the author gets her voice just right: she's angry and wants to swear, but she's been told not to, so she substitutes the word "snow" or "snowy" or "snowman" (as applicable) for all the swears she cannot say.  It sounds a bit hokey when I write it like that--which is why I'm not the award-winning author of this or any book--but it's so well done, and so wonderfully explained that it just works.  

Naturally, I had to see if the second page would be as good as the first... and then I absolutely inhaled the story over the course of my lunch hour that day and the following day.  It was all I could think about for a few days there--despite the utter insanity of 2020, this book truly took my attention and was where my mind went during spare moments.  I don't go in for awards, much, but I'd love to see this book nominated for a Newbery.

Fighting Words manages to walk a thin line between an accurate portrayal of trauma that won't be traumatizing for its young readers.  It faces hard topics head on without becoming self-pitying or hopeless or bogged down in despair.  It leaves open the possibility for healing while acknowledging the efforts required from many people for healing to happen.  It shows some adults who are truly terrible, some who are unintentionally harmful, some who are addicts, and some who are actually kind and caring (without having their flaws and being realistic).  Whether you think you'd enjoy this or not, just read the first page and see if you're not drawn in, too.

Chapter Two Hundred Forty-One: Warbreaker

On the sound recommendation of a good friend whose reading taste is often aligned with mine, I read my first ever book by prolific fantasy author Brandon Sanderson, Warbreaker.  The friend who suggested this was right that it was a good place to start, since it's a fast-paced standalone that's easy to get into and totally absorbing--which is really exactly what I'm looking for in leisure reading, these days. 

The basic premise involves a world where some people mysteriously return from the dead and are treated as gods.  There is a sort of magical life force--Breath--and having more of it (as do the Returned) enables greater perception of colors, as well as certain other powers.  Plus, there's a mysterious God King, who has more breath than the rest of them combined.  But his priests keep him very secluded, so he's something of a terrifying mystery to most.  However, this story starts when a princess from a neighboring/rebel kingdom is sent, per a peace treaty, to be the God King's bride.  This could be so cliche and, frankly, gross, but it's handled without any icky rape-turns-to-romance situations.  

But this is a story of intersecting stories, so in addition to the princess who's sent to marry the God King, we also get her sister's perspective, as well as that of a very mysterious figure who may be big trouble, and the perspective of one of the other gods in the God King's court, who isn't sure if he believes in his own divinity.  I enjoyed watching their stories become ever more entwined, and I was enthralled by the end, when the plots all converged.  If there's ever a sequel, I'll gladly read it.  I'll probably even read some of Sanderson's other books, one of these days.  

If you're into fantasy and want a unique type of magic and plenty of action, give Warbreaker a look.

Chapter Two Hundred Forty: The Constant Rabbit

 Well, it's been awhile, and I've certainly been reading in that time, but we'll start from recent history, and maybe I'll go back and add some of my favorites from the gap in which I haven't posted.

In the meantime, a book that I read recently and greatly enjoyed was Jasper Fforde's newest, The Constant Rabbit.  I was so excited this summer to read that Fforde had a new book coming out, and I was even more excited when it was finally my turn to borrow the library's e-book copy.  This is just as weird as all of Fforde's novels--the premise is that there are a bunch of anthropomorphized rabbits (they're human-sized, can speak English, and walk on their hind legs) due to a spontaneous anthropomorphizing event in England back in the 1970s.  The story, set in 2022, follows an apparently hapless civil servant working in RabCoT (Rabbit Compliance Taskforce) using his unusual skill at telling rabbits apart to identify wanted rabbits.  But when his new neighbors are a family of rabbits--and the lady of the house happens to be his college crush whom he hasn't seen since rabbits were barred from university--he finds himself questioning most every aspect of his life.

This is satire, mostly of contemporary British politics, but you certainly don't have to know anything about UKIP or Brexit or really anything based in reality to enjoy the story at hand--there's plenty going on without worrying about catching every allusion.  The rabbits' culture is particularly fascinating all on its own--they have been anthropomorphized, yes, but they have a distinct culture with their own language (though they can also speak English just fine), religion, customs (lopping the ears of rabbits who have turned traitor to align with humans; males dueling with pistols to steal another's wife), taboos (burrowing in residential areas), and sports (gamboling).  I don't think I need to say any more for potential readers to decide whether they're remotely interested in such a weird story as this, but for those with a taste for the zany, I highly recommend The Constant Rabbit.