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.