#65 – The Dragon Keeper, by Robin Hobb
- Read: 4/30/20 – 5/4/20
- Around the Year in 52 Books: A fantasy book
- Mount TBR: 62/150
- The Reading Frenzy: Read a book that includes an animal sidekick
- Rating: 4/5 stars
It’s hard to evaluate this as a novel, because it’s really the first act of a much larger story. Lots of new characters are introduced and an epic journey is begun–but only just, very little of that journey happens here.
It’s woefully incomplete in that regard, even by the standards of first-in-series books, especially by the standards of Hobb’s three previous trilogy-starters. So as much as I enjoyed it–and I certainly did–I can’t give it five stars. It’s simply not a good place to end the book.
That being said, I found a lot to like. Alise may have started out a standard unhappy housewife type, but she certainly manages to grow past that. Thymara, as an outcast young woman, is both sympathetic and believable while not pulling too obviously on the pity vote from readers. She treads the line between accomplished and uncertain of herself with grace. Sintara’s sporadic dragon POV scenes are interesting. I even like Leftrin–he’s no Brashen Trell, but my heart has room for more than one mostly honest, rough and manly ship captain. (Speaking of Brash, it was lovely to see him and Althea and especially Paragon again, though their cameo was brief. Most of me is glad it wasn’t longer, it could have read as cheap fan service, but a small part of me still wants more because I loved them so much.)
I can’t argue with the pacing, either, this was shorter and more snappy than any of Hobb’s previous works, and I don’t mind that one bit. Problem is, I think that came at the cost of leaving everything unfinished–there is not even one story line here that resolves in any way, it’s a cliffhanger in all respects.
#66 – Fate’s Edge, by Ilona Andrews
- Read: 5/4/20 – 5/6/20
- Mount TBR: 63/150
- Rating: 4/5 stars
I like this best yet of the three novels of The Edge, but it’s still got some issues.
I knew I would finish the series because at this point I will read anything by Ilona Andrews, so I dove in without reading the blurb or knowing too much about it–just as I’m sure I will soon when I read the final novel. So I did not know I was in for a fast-paced heist flick/rom-com mashup with clever banter and constant danger. As far as that goes, it’s fun, though it does lead to a flaw I’ll come back to.
The big and lovely surprise was how large a part in the story George and Jack played, and I’m completely enamored with those boys, they’re amazing.
As far as the leads go, I liked Audrey right away and liked her even better when she stood up to Kaldar repeatedly and seriously, choosing to protect her heart rather than indulging in a quick fling. Their flirtation is the perfect combination of clever and hot, but she wisely decides it’s not going to keep her warm at night forever, and at that point in the story, she’s undoubtedly right. It’s the sign of strong character work that I can root for the heroine of a romance novel when her stance and aims are in direct opposition to that romance, you know?
So here’s where the fast and fun pacing falls flat–Kaldar’s complete about-face about marriage in two pages of introspection. I got to that and thought, “seriously, you’re 100% committed to the idea of marriage now?”
Don’t get me wrong, I like Kaldar. I like him far more here than I did in Bayou Moon, where he was one of a million faces of Cerise’s family and was characterized entirely by his light fingers and betting magic. Here, he gets a personality to go with those, and I liked that personality. But I don’t really believe he faced-turned from a freewheeling bachelor to loyal husband material in two pages. I just can’t. Do I want him to have a happy ending with Audrey, yes, of course I do. Do I think the one they got was entirely earned? Not really. Super-rushed.
#67 – The Birchbark House, by Louise Erdrich
- Read: 5/7/20
- The Ultimate PopSugar Reading Challenge: A Western
- The Reading Frenzy: Read a book with a three-word title
- Rating: 3/5 stars
There are children’s books that are still enjoyable reads as an adult, and then there are children’s books that are definitely for children only, and I think this is one of the latter. I found the writing to be simple to the point of boredom, and if I hadn’t been listening to this instead of reading it, I might have given up when I got to the point where every character in the family had to shout the same words at the little brother for being a bad kid, twice, in sequence. I bet in print that takes a whole page, and I groaned through it playing out in my ear but soldiered on.
And it’s not really a fair criticism that I was bored the style of a book aimed at eight-year-olds. What about the story? Well, it’s really episodic in nature, with every chapter practically being it’s own self-contained chunk, especially when a chapter is mostly about another story an adult is telling the main character. I found some of these chapters more interesting and compelling than others, but for most of the book I really failed to see how they were connected and wondered what the point of the book was–were we really just following a family through a year of their life without any sort of structure beyond the seasons?
Eventually, though, the narrative threads tying the story together became more prominent. Little Omakayas suffers through her grief after the family’s bout with smallpox, finds out her origin story of being a rescued orphan–the experience that gave her immunity to the illness this time around–and resolves to become a healer because that’s what calls to her and what the spirits are shaping her to be.
By the end, I realized that despite my eye-rolling at the style, I was attached enough to these characters to care what happened to them, and to find Omakayas’ ending satisfying and fitting. I’ll admit my white ex-Christian self has more than a little cynicism that prevents me from properly appreciating the more spiritual aspects of the story (and the culture it comes from) but it seems a very comforting ending, to have that soft and buoyant belief in the spirits of nature to ease you through your grief. I don’t understand it on anything but the most surface level, but I respect it, and it’s not at all a bad message to send to children, than life goes on and that our departed loved ones are still with us in other ways.
I probably would have loved this book wholeheartedly when I was the right age (though it hadn’t been written yet) and I agree with many others who feel like this is the Native American answer to the Little House series and its “brave pioneers” story. Even if I couldn’t enjoy it fully as an adult, I think this book has great value for what it is and what can show children who might otherwise only get one side of the historical story.