WHAT I'VE BEEN READING LATELY

Hello, hello, hello, Dear Readers! Happy Tuesday to all.

First up: THE BOOK OF SNOW & SILENCE is on a Kindle Countdown deal right now and you can snap it up for under £2, but only for today - then the price increases by £1 (although that's still £1 off the normal price). So if you're interested in owning it, now is the time to snap it up.

Today I bring you a veritable blizzard of reviews, all of books I've read pretty recently. I was on a major fiction-reading slump while working on my dissertation - mainly because I spent all my time devouring academic books to try and prove that the point I'm arguing in my essay isn't utterly bonkers - but now that it's finished and I'm nearly ready to hand in, I've gone... a bit book-mad. I just had a lot of novels queued up on my ereader, and once I started, I couldn't stop!

Some of these reviews are looong. Some are short and sweet. There's no way I can copy and paste all of them here in full, so I'm just going to list the books with a one sentence summming up, and a link to the full thing over on Goodreads. These are presented to you in reading order, not order of preference, and I'm only sharing reviews for standalone books.

A Warning: I do not hold back on expressing my feelings, here! If I inadvertantly trashed your favourite book, I apologise for any hurt feelings - but just know that however negative my review may seem, I myself have been the recipient of ones ten times worse, and survived. Also, although I may refer to the authors, I will always focus on the book or character's traits, not the writers' (presumed) ones.

Onward!

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern. Finished: the 28th of June. My Summary: gorgeous but incoherent and ultimately unsuccessful. Full review.

Angel Mage by Garth Nix. Finished: the 4th of July. My Summary: Enjoyable mash-up of fun elements that left me feeling somewhat let down by the close. Full review.

The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton. Finished: the 13th of July. My Summary: an intriguing take on the well-worn Groundhog Day trope which has a lukewarm start, a bubbling-hot middle, and then goes off the boil at the end. Full review.

The Bookshop of Yesterdays by Amy Meyerson. Finished: July the 30th. My Summary: I went in looking for a whimsical, life-affirming, bibliophile-friendly tale, but I got uninteresting family drama and a heroine so miserable and dense that it was a struggle to finish. Full Review.

Sorcery of Thorns by Margeret Rogerson. Finished: July the 29th. My Summary: Fast-paced, thrilling fantasy which is vaguely reciminiscent of my favourite bits of LIRAEL by Garth Nix and has an ending which is Just Right. Full Review.

The Shadows Between Us by Tricia Levenseller. Finished: July the 31st. My Summary: A brilliant premise sadly wasted because the characters are unbearably shallow and boring. Full review.

Girl, Serpent, Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust. Finished: August the 1st. My Summary: A twisty fantasy which offers Persian inspired mythology and worldbuilding and characters that absolutely scintillate with inner life. Full Review.

Let me know if you've read any of these (or plan to) and what you thought in the comments, Muffins!

A DEADLY EDUCATION BY NAOMI NOVIK - My review

Happy Tuesday, Dear Readers! I hope you're all safe and well (and if you're not, feel free to let me know in the comments, I promise to offer you comfort and virtual hugs).

Remember that THE BOOK OF SNOW & SILENCE ebook is currently available for pre-order on a special Kindle deal for under £2 just now, so get in there if you want it. And if you do buy it, please consider reviewing once you've read it, since reviews are life. Speaking of which... today's blog is a review and I am *excited*. 

Naomi Novik is one of my favourite writers working today.

She's famous for the Temeraire series: alternate history Regency-era fantasies where intelligent dragons essentially act as airborn artillery in the British armed forces as they battle against Napolean. I really liked the Temeraire books and have read all of them - but not until after that series was complete and Ms Novik published UPROOTED, which can be taken as a very loose Beauty & the Beast retelling, did I become a superfan. And I do mean a superfan. UPROOTED pressed every button that my fairytale and folklore obsessed heart possessed, and I loved it so much that I recommended it to literally every bookish person I met for the next year.

I had her next book, SPINNING SILVER, on pre-order the moment it was available on the Waterstone's website, and when it turned up and my sad, RSI-weakened hands could not actually hold it long enough to read it (it's a hardback and it's chunky, OK, and I need to be able to bring books up close to my face because my eyes are rubbish) I turned around and got the ebook, but kept the hardback anyway because it was signed. Me. This perpetually skint, compulsively thrifty person. Who even am I? This what the prospect of a new Naomi Novik book does to me.

So the female-focused folklore inspired fantasy was a pretty big departure for the author of a very, very successful and long-running series with a male protagonist. And A DEADLY EDUCATION is yet another daring swerve for the author. It's what I would call contemporary urban fantasy, or maybe contemporary alternate history (the 'everything's the same except there's a secret magical world' variety) and hovering right on the edge of the crossover market. When I saw this pop up in Netgalley I nearly dislocated my finger, I hit the 'Request' button with such fervour. Only afterwards did I notice that this wasn't another fairytale inspired novel, but something entirely different. I prepared myself to maybe not love it quite so much.

Ha. Yeah. Nope. I would still sell my immortal soul for this woman.

First, I need to get this out there: this is an absolutely bonkers book. I can't emphasize enough how barmy it is. Story. Characters. Tone. It's like nothing you've read before. But! At the same time, it IS. Because it is straight-up parodying not only Harry Potter but the parade of other 'magic highschool' novels which followed in HP's stratospheric wake.

This is a book that has set out to answer the question so many of us have asked regarding Hogwarts as we looked back at the series as adults: who in the heck would ever send their kid there, and WHY would they allow them STAY there when the kids are writing letters home saying: "Thanks for the new socks. Got an A in Transfiguration but only a B in Herbology. Oh, and there's a giant savage three headed dog chained up in one of the corridors that would kill any of us instantly - and we learned lock-picking spells in charms today! Love to Dad."

As a kid, you just imagine how damn cool it would be to get to go to Hogwarts and have adventures, but as the aunt of several nieces who just barely managed to survive to adulthood despite excellent quality helicopter parenting and notable lack of magic wands, I do wonder... why would an adult who is responsible for the welfare of hundreds of vulnerable children hide the Philosopher's Stone in their school, practically guaranteeing that Voldemort's agents would turn up there? Who approved sending eleven year olds into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night for *detention* without even ensuring they would have adequate adult supervision when a unicorn killing monster is known to be in there? Not to mention the giant spiders? What about the Whomping Willow? Allowing school to stay in session after all the adults are damn well aware that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again and a deadly unidentified creature is on the lose within the walls? VOLUNTARILY ENTERING KIDS INTO THE GOBLET OF FIRE???

I mean, what is WITH this place? For heaven's sake, if you didn't know any better you might almost say it's like they're trying to, I don't know, kill the kids off on purpose somehow, cull out the weak, sift the wheat... from... the... ?

Yep. That's totally what the Wizarding world was doing, isn't it? Sorry, readers, but it's true. You're lucky your Hogwarts letter never came, because chances are that you wouldn't have made it out alive (me either, for the record).

Really, only Harry Potter's bulletproof rose-tinted glasses - conveniently provided by a total lack of the proper socialisation and vital attention required by a developing child, not to mention the routine starvation, neglect, and physical and emotional abuse of his family - allowed us, the readers, to believe anything different. The cupboard under the stairs made even a life in which he was continually thrown into near-death situations by his adult caretakers and expected to save everyone seem great by comparison as long as people fed him and noticed his existence. But for anyone else... well. I think Hogwarts would seem pretty much like Naomi Novik's invention in A DEADLY EDUCATION: the Scholomance.

Scholomance is what Hogwarts was really like. No one is happy to be on this school's admission list. It's effectively a meat grinder for magical kids. You're all alone there - there are no teachers, the school itself sets your assignments and punishes you gruesomely if you fail - and if the kids kill each other off? Well, what happens in Scholomance mostly stays in Scholomance. And you're not only potentially under attack by other kids, who want to move up the rankings, oh no. You're also under constant attack by 'mals', magical monsters who slurp up the fresh and shiny life force of children as if it were Mountain Dew and which, despite the best magical protections the school has to offer, have a nasty habit of popping out of the scrambled eggs on the breakfast buffet, from out of the plugholes in the shared bathroom, and even through the keyhole of your dorm room in the middle of the night.

Now, of course you can avoid going if your parents take you off the list - but even though your odds of getting out of Scholomance alive are roughly one in four (yep, it's brutal) it's still better odds than staying out in the world, where magical children going through puberty are monster magnets and your odds are more like one-in-twenty - and that's IF your family belongs to an 'enclave', a sort of wealthy, influential and privileged Feudal compound, with powerful adults who will probably be willing to risk their lives to defend you. Once you hit eighteen or so, the monsters don't consider you particularly interesting anymore, but in the meantime, you put everyone you love, including younger siblings who aren't yet going through puberty, and older relatives who may not have strong enough magic or the right affinity to defend themselves, in danger.

And if you're not in an enclave, like the heroine of this story - Galadriel, or 'El'? Well, not going to the Scholomance is basically just hoping that when the monsters eventually DO get at you, they eat your mum (or dad, or big sister, or the neighbour lady) first and give you time to get away. This is not cool with El, whose mum is a hippy ray of sunshine, an insanely kind, positive and powerful healer who only ever uses her power to make the world a better place and refuses compensation for any of her work. She's totally alone in the world and only escaped the Scholomance herself as a teen because Galadriel's father - knowing that El's mum was three months pregnant - sacrified himself to a hideous monster to save her life. El's mum lives in a commune in Wales and is beloved by everyone who meets her. She could have the pick of any powerful 'enclave' in the world. Except. Except that El is NOT an insanely kind, positive and powerful Healer.


Oh, she's insanely powerful, all right. In fact, she can pull the lifeforce out of any other wizard she likes, no matter how strong or well-defended, at the blink of an eye, and has an affinity for enchantments of darkness, destruction and death. When free-writing poetry, she accidentally creates spells to invoke supervolcanoes. She can literally kill you with a flick of her hand, and from a small child, people who look at her are inexplicably filled with (depending on their character) fear, revulsion or awe. Her own father's family, despite having adored her deceased father and practically worshipping her mother, tried to off her when she was a kid because they, vegetarian, Pacifist Good Wizards, were convinced she would bring about the endtimes, and was better off dead.

The only reason she is not already ruling the universe 'ALL SHALL LOVE ME AND DESPAIR!' style is that, thanks to her mum, she actually doesn't WANT to hurt anyone. Which, predictably, drives her up the wall, because the way people, even quite nice people, treat her - as if she was automatically a horrible, wicked person - means that she WANTS to want to hurt them. She just can't bring herself to really DO it.

El is Bellatrix LeStrange, if she had been brought up to have an unshakeable moral compass. Killing people and being wicked, cruel and villainous would be a piece of cake for her, and in order to be good, she has to work about ten times as hard as a normal person, because every time she uses magic it wants to twist into something dark. And she knows that if she gave into that urge, even once, she would end up respected, feared, unstoppably powerful, and SAFE - but also, on the path to becoming the monster she's determined never to be. She's bitter, caustic, antagonistic, and perhaps the most purely decent and moral character I've ever read. I LOVES HER MY PRECIOUS.

So much for our setting and protagonist: this is where people reviewing fantasy books usually talk about 'the magic system'. Personally I hate that phrase. Look, you have a drainage 'system', don't you, and how it works is that it's made out of metal pipes, and when you turn a tap it runs, and if it breaks down then you call someone with a spanner who will replace a part and it will work again. Magic, being the "non-meat by-product of existence", something fundamentally non-classifiable, illogical, elemental, spiritual (thank you, N.K. Jemisin) may have rules or ideals or spells, but if it has a 'system' - for instance, the one in Harry Potter, where you wave your wand a certain way and say certain words and unless your wand is broken or you got the gesture or words wrong, you get the same result every single time, just like flushing the toilet - pretty much bore me to tears.

This is why I always see questions in reviews for *my* books asking why the 'magic system' wasn't better explained and why didn't we get all the consequences explored and classified and why didn't I put down exactly why and how it all works? BECAUSE IT'S BORING! It's not a supposed to be like a magic trick, where there's a logical explanation for everything and the rabbit was up his sleeve all along. It's suppposed to be actual magic. And with actual magic, just like art, sometimes you do all the right things and it turns out awful, and sometimes the power of love is enough to fix everything and sometimes the power of love is enough to ruin everything, and somethings the thing you hated and sweated through and got wrong in every way is the best thing you ever did.

A DEADLY EDUCATION has *that* kind of magic. The good kind. The kind where there are certainly rules and spells, but where, just like in Garth Nix's or Lois McMaster Bujold's work, effort and intention are what powers your magic, and your dread and fear or even joy can warp reality (just like Heisenberg said! Well, sort of). I love how this kind of magic can have all kinds of unexpected effects and the interaction of differing factors can invent something entirely new.

The writing is absolutely smooth as silk. Not fancy, or lyrical, but just utterly competent and powerful and brilliant. You barely notice you're reading, it's so smooth. It feels like when Neo gets a programme for martial arts downloaded into his brain and just KNOWS how it works. And as a result the story is totally unputdownable. Gripping is an understatement. I downloaded it and began reading it at about 4pm and finished at 11 at night, having taken the smallest and most rushed breaks possible to eat, shower etc., each one of which felt like waking up from a dream I couldn't wait to get back to. However! I can sense that some readers - ones not as enamoured of Ms Novik's writing as I am, or as into the MC's unique, spikey narratuon - might find some of the exposition a little heavy, especially to start with. Ms Novik plays that trick of dangling something incredibly juicy at you and then using the tempting tidbit to lead you through a few pages of necessary information. Personally I'm all for that; I love worldbuilding. But if you're not, I recommend that you just push through it. It is WORTH it, trust me.

Secondary characters are a real strength in this, sketched with humane deftness, humour, and compassion, from the tentative friends to the out-and-out villains. We understand them all, even if perhaps we might wish not to.

I do note, though, that Orion Lake, the unlikely best friend the heroine makes basically against her will - and the character who gets the most screen time next to El - is probably the one I felt I knew the least. I wonder if that's because he's so clearly there as the Harry Potter analogue: the heroic Chosen One who always charges in to save everyone without thinking twice about his own life, or the consequences, but really just wants to be treated as human. I felt as if we were already meant to know him. But the thing is, he WASN'T Harry. For one thing, he comes from a life of immense privilege, not one of poverty, abuse and neglect - and he completely takes that privilege for granted, ending up totally shocked and bamboozled everytime El is forced to bitterly point it out to him. And every now and again he would do something deeply NOT HARRY-ish and make me really keen to get to know him better. But I never really did? Hopefully future books take care of this. Actually, I can't wait!

Overall - as is absolutely no secret by now - I adored this, wish I could go back in time immediately and read it again for the first time, and would be willing to read another five to ten books of it - preferably right now? This is a solid gold 100% recommendation from The Zoë-Trope. A DEADLY EDUCATION is out at the end of September. Run out and pre-order or put it on hold/request at your library instantly, or a maw-mouth will get you!

(Language Geek Alert: maw-mouths are the worst monsters in this book. I laughed for five minutes straight when I saw the name, and I like to imagine Ms Novik cackled in a similarly unhinged fashion when the name occurred to her, too. You see, a maw-mouth is a creature that has a lot of mouths. Thousands. And the word 'maw' just means mouth. So their name basically means 'mouth-mouth'. But the word 'maw' is pronounced 'more'. So they're mouth-mouths and more-mouths at the same time - and that's literally what they are! GENIUS).

GIRLS OF PAPER & FIRE - MY REVIEW

Hello, hello, hello Dear Readers! Today I bring you a real treat - not only a review of one of the the most highly anticipated YA releases this year, but also... a giveaway. Ooooh! Aaaah! Buckle up, buttercups! Here's the synopsis for Natasha Ngan's Girls of Paper & Fire:

Each year, eight beautiful girls are chosen as Paper Girls to serve the king. It's the highest honor they could hope for...and the most cruel.

But this year, there's a ninth girl. And instead of paper, she's made of fire.

In this lush fantasy, Lei is a member of the Paper caste, the lowest and most oppressed class in Ikhara. She lives in a remote village with her father, where the decade-old trauma of watching her mother snatched by royal guards still haunts her. Now, the guards are back, and this time it's Lei they're after--the girl whose golden eyes have piqued the king's interest.

Over weeks of training in the opulent but stifling palace, Lei and eight other girls learn the skills and charm that befit being a king's consort. But Lei isn't content to watch her fate consume her. Instead, she does the unthinkable--she falls in love. Her forbidden romance becomes enmeshed with an explosive plot that threatens the very foundation of Ikhara, and Lei, still the wide-eyed country girl at heart, must decide just how far she's willing to go for justice and revenge.

Doesn't that sound FREAKING AMAZING???

OK, let me pretend to be a grown-up for minute and explain a bit more about this.

Although we've never met in real life, I've known Natasha Ngan online for a long time - as a delightful person to exchange jokes or writing related complaints with on Twitter and as a fellow contributor to Author Allsorts. And so I've also known about this book, one way or another, for a long time. Through the #UKYA author grape-vine I knew she was working on something new - an exciting departure for her. I'd even spoken to people who'd read the manuscript and said it was something really, really special. As a result, I was excited to hear more about it from the first.

Keeping my ears open, I gradually learned that it was a high fantasy with an Asian-inspired setting. That it was supposed to be a Feminist story, and one which centred a queer romance. Talk about a list of all my favourite things! Eventually I saw the gorgeous cover.

I actually thought I couldn't get much more interested at that point.

But then I saw the synopsis - THAT synopsis - online and I felt shivers go right down my spine.

In one of those utterly unearthly coincidences of creative zeitgeist, Natasha had written a story which echoed, almost perfectly, the tragic and bloody backstory of one of my favourite characters from my own upcoming novel The Hand, the Eye, and the Heart - which also happens to be a queer high fantasy with an Asian-inspired setting.

It felt as if someone had reached into my dreams, plucked something out, and made it real.

I knew I had to get my hands on this book. I can't even express to you how much I HAD TO READ IT. And with every amazing review that drifted through my Twitter timeline, my desperation grew. So I entered every online giveaway I could find (with thanks to longtime reader B&J, who alerted me to most of these) wished for both the UK and US versions on Netgalley (neither were available to request) and also emailed Hodder and Stoughton - calmly and professionally - asking for an ARC to review. And when that didn't work, I broke down and sent pleading tweets to their children's AND adult twitter accounts, offering up a virgin goat or a kidney, whichever worked for them.

Just when I was starting to lose hope a lovely DM from a member of the PR team arrived, offering me what sounded like their very last available ARC. My exultant hiss of "Yesssss!" startled many unfortunate occupants of the station Starbucks where I was waiting for my train when this message arrived. But did I care? I did not. Soon! Soon, the book would be in my grasp and I could at long last discover if this story really WAS really a fragment of my dreams which had gotten lose and become a book.

Readers, the ARC arrived on Saturday in the early afternoon.

Readers, before nine pm that evening, I had finished it.

Readers, despite its main storyline bearing an uncanny resemblance to the one in my head it was not really a fragment of my dreams which had gotten lose and become a book.

It was something much rarer and more wonderful.

There are books that authors enjoy - love - or admire. Lots of those. But for most authors there's another category, which is the most special of all: books we genuinely wish *we* had written. Girls of Paper & Fire is one of these.

Longtime Dear Readers know that my favourite book out of everything I've ever written is Shadows on the Moon. Right? Well, this book is the book I wanted Shadows on the Moon to be. The book it could have been if I'd been just a bit better at my craft, a bit braver in my choices, a crucial shade more open to possibilities, back in 2009 when that story was fighting its way out of me. Girls of Paper & Fire fulfils every craving for that perfect book I couldn't quite achieve. It is brutal and lyrical, beautiful and savage, heart-breaking and transformative. I loved it.

It's hard to talk about books you connect with this much. There's a strong impulse to ramble on about the details. Everything from craft level stuff - gorgeous, deftly woven prose - or big picture stuff - tactile, sensory world-building with the perfect level of detail and exposition - or the characters - flawed, evolving, both broken and beautiful. But ultimately, it's not really about that. What it comes down to is something intangible. Some connection between you and the text that opens a door in your imagination you never knew was there, but which afterwards can never be fully closed again.

Look guys, if you liked any of my books, go get this. If you're a fan of Naomi Novik, or Leigh Bardugo, or Laini Taylor - same. It's just great. You won't regret it. And then you can come and talk to me about it and we'll squee together and mourn just how long it's going to be until the sequel comes out.

And to increase the chances of your getting to read the book, I'm going to bite the bullet and give away this very special, stained-with-my-own-tears ARC (fully intending to save up to buy it when it comes out, of course). It's going to be a wrench, since I kind of want to sleep with it under my pillow forever more, but that's how much I love you guys.

The entry form is below and it's as simple as I can make it. You get one point for RTing this post and the competition to Twitter (and you can do that once each day if you like) and one point for commenting. The giveaway is open to anyone in UK and Europe - but not the US. Sorry USians, the postage is unreal and I'm trying to save up for Christmas presents.

The competition will run until next Wednesday - the 17th of October - and I'll announce the winner on Thursday and send the book out on Friday. Which means one of the best books you're ever likely to read can be in your eager little hands by next weekend. You might want to get on that :) Read you later, muffins!

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TEMPESTS & SLAUGHTER BY TAMORA PIERCE - MY REVIEW

Hello, muffins! Long time no read. I hope you've all had a wonderful *cough* four months since I posted last. If you're inferring from the fact that I'm posting again that the first draft of Selkie Book is finally (finally FINALLY) finished you are a very clever muffin indeed - and you are correct!

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

95,000 words, 322 pages, bucketloads of snow, some ships, some icebergs, some bears, some rather more unusual creatures, a sprinkling of moon magic, and a warm, gooey centre of intersectional Feminism - oh my! My tenth novel since becoming a published writer. Let's hope it finds a home and I can share it with you... soon-ish. I may post a snippet and some other stuff next week, if the spirit moves me.

In the meantime, though, a book review!

The legend begins.

In the ancient halls of the Imperial University of Carthak, a young man has begun his journey to becoming one of most powerful mages the realm has ever known. Arram Draper is the youngest student in his class and has the Gift of unlimited potential for greatness . . . and of attracting danger.

At his side are his two best friends: clever Varice, a girl too often-overlooked, and Ozorne, the ‘leftover prince’ with secret ambitions. Together, these three forge a bond that will one day shape kingdoms. But as Ozorne inches closer to the throne and Varice grows closer to Arram's heart, Arram realizes that one day – soon – he will have to decide where his loyalties truly lie.

In the Numair Chronicles, fans of Tamora Pierce will be rewarded with the never-before-told story of how Numair Salmalín came to Tortall. Newcomers will discover an unforgettable fantasy adventure where a kingdom's future rests on the shoulders of a boy with unimaginable gifts and a talent for making deadly enemies.

NOTE: This is as close to spoiler free as I can make it and still maintain coherency; anyone who's read the Immortals Quartet or the Protector of the Small books ought to be just fine. If you're a Pierce newbie, it'll depend on your personal tolerance for hints. You've been warned, my lovelies.

A few weeks ago I was lucky enough to get a copy of TEMPESTS & SLAUGHTER on NetGalley - Tamora Pierce's latest young adult book, set in her famous Tortall fantasy universe.

Obviously I was ecstatic since, as longtime Dear Readers know, Tamora Pierce's Song of the Lioness Quartet is the reason I'm a young adult novelist. Ms Pierce is *that* influential. And for those of us who worship her as she deserves, it feels like about a decade since her last full-length novel release (in reality, MASTIFF, the final book of the Beka Cooper Trilogy, her last series set in Tortall, came out in 2011).

But TEMPESTS & SLAUGHTER was giving me a slightly conflicted feeling because it's the first book of the Numair Chronicles - a prequel trilogy about the early life of one of her beloved characters from her Immortals Quartet, Numair Salmalin, otherwise known as Arram Draper.

Why the conflict? Because Arram/Numair's early life is actually covered pretty thoroughly in books I've already read (and re-read and re-read again). He is the second most prominent character of the Immortals Quartet - which is probably my second favourite of all Ms Pierce's Tortall series - and his history is a pivotal part of the plot. The books tell us where he grew up, what he did and who his best friends were, as well as just how those relationships developed. It's a central part of the plot.

I don't have any objection to getting more depth and information about Numair! I love Numair! But I did have kind of squinky feeling about heading into a whole new series of books where I needed to invest myself in the characters and the plot when I knew, going in, exactly how it was all going to turn out. How it would end. I worried I just wouldn't be able to get into any of it, that it would feel hollow, or inevitable. More like a collection of Easter Eggs than a real story.

Well, I shouldn't have worried. Tamora Pierce's exceptional strength as a storyteller has always been her ability to create the most beautifully realised, well-rounded characters - and then build relationships between them on the page which allow them to evolve and develop in direct relation to each other in all these unexpected, simply unforgettable ways. It's miraculous. And as a result, this book sucked me in from the very first page.

Compared to many of her works it's not a high action epic, though there is plenty of incident within it, ranging from training mishaps caused by Arram, whose power is simply too great for someone so young to fully control, through unexpected encounters with animal gods, all the way up to an attempted slave revolt. Arram even gets an unusual animal companion in classic Pierce style.

But this isn't a book that's about plot. It's a book deeply rooted in relationships, in watching relationships change and grow - and the relationship between Varice, Ozorne and Arram was so unexpectedly sincere and joyful that I couldn't put the book down. It didn't seem hollow. It seemed multi-faceted and nuanced and fascinating and, honestly, my heart broke a little bit for all of them. My knowledge of all these people's eventual fates only added depth and poignancy.

Meeting younger and less hardened versions of other such significant characters as Tristan, Chioke, Princess Mahira, and Lindhall, and having the chance to see the beginning of Ozorne's rise as well as the beginning of his descent was merely the icing on that compelling cake.

Which is a good thing, because this book ends just when things are rising to a point of high tension. Arram has made a fateful decision about his future, feelings between two of the central trio of friends have finally been declared, and Ozorne is beginning to display not only signs of the violent instability which will later have such disastrous consequences for Carthak and the whole world, but also a kind of burgeoning ambition that makes me suddenly re-evaluate his motives throughout the book. Arram is still Arram - he hasn't picked out his rather more ostentatious mage name yet - and he's still a mere student at the university, along with Varice and Ozorne.

I was stunned when I realised the book ended there. It felt, to put it mildly, a bit abrupt. But on thinking about it, I know why the writer chose to finish at that point: in a strange way, the events which finish the book are the beginning of the end for Arram's life as he has known it. The next book, surely, will chart his final examinations at the university - the acknowledgment that the odd young Draper boy is, in fact, the most powerful magic user in Carthak - as well as Ozorne's rise to the throne of Carthak. And anyone who's read the Immortals knows how that goes.

This book was the idealistic dream of three friends who only wanted to be together, to learn magic, and to live in peace far from the violence and machinations of the court of Carthak. I suspect that the next book will be a crashing and non-stop battle with reality for Arram, including that world-altering event Pierce fans know is coming and both dread and anticipate.

I HOPE so, anyway, because the part of the story that has always interested me most is Numair's escape, his arrival and early years in Tortall, and his eventual meeting with the influential people there which leads to all the events of the Immortals Quartet. For those events to be done justice, they really want a whole book. And, even knowing how it all turns out? I definitely want to read it RIGHT NOW.

If you're a Pierce fan, let me know how you feel about this book in the comments! Otherwise, tell me what you'd like to see in a post about selkie book (aesthetics? Playlist? Snippets?) and I'm more likely to put something together for next week :)

WEIRD THINKY THOUGHTS ABOUT THOR: Ragnarok

This is not a film review. My 'review' of Thor: Ragnarok basically boils down to one paragraph:

So funny, so colourful! Valkyrie is f*ck*wesome, I want to be Hela when I grow up, I need a Fenris of my own immediately - and none of these problems would ever have happened if Frigga and Odin weren't such (God)awful parents, GOOD GRIEF. But anyway, go see it. Also the soundtrack is awesome.

But. For a mostly comedic odd-couple roadtrip buddy movie iiiin spaaace... it sure did leave me with some deep thinky thoughts. And they are as follows (read on at your own peril).

Watching Thor: Ragnarok so soon after re-watching Wonder Woman on DVD has made me consider the contrasting ways the two films deal with immortal characters.

Wonder Woman posits that a 5,000 year old warrior who has fought and loved and lost would have a kind of timeless serenity, an immense and awe-inspiring depth of character quite apart from their Godlike power, simply by virtue of having experienced so much.

T:R on the other hand, finally crystallises Marvel's viewpoint on such characters, which has been hinted at in previous Thor films and in the treatment of other characters such as Ego in Guardians of the Galaxy. Broadly: far from accumulating any kind of wisdom or ageless perspective during their eternal lives, immortals - without exception! - remain perpetual children. 

Whether this is in-born - ie., something true of all such characters from the beginnings of their existence - or in fact they start out just as capable of emotional development and maturity as any human, and their regression to childhood is something that begins after a certain number of centuries (in order to survive the sheer weight of immortal experience, or the constant attrition of anyone and anything they might care for perhaps)... that's another question.

We're offered a set of variations on this theme in T:R, ranging from Thor's heroic yet essentially self-centred morality (he does display empathy for others, but it's always in an effort to force them to follow his agenda and validate his image of himself as a 'hero' - witness his treatment of Bruce Banner in this film) to Hela and Loki's sociopathy, which allows them to act as if the one right and true and good thing in the universe is their own desires - and anyone going against them must and should be removed.

Loki repeats the same betrayals over and over, apparently still finding them amusing after thousands of years - and still equally ready to throw a tantrum when other people don't laugh at his jokes. Thor watches his Father die and, after the briestest burst of emotion, quickly goes back to quipping and bolstering his own ego. Hela walks out of her prison after millenia of solitary confinement without having experienced a single iota of maturation or self-examination, ready and willing to get back to the super important work of conquering stuff - not due to any real sense of injustice or need for revenge but just because, you know, her dad told her she was the Goodess of Death and that's what she DOES, d'uh.

This is even more evident in the minor characters: Valkyrie, the elite warrior who watched her comrades die by the thousand at Hela's hands has apparently been weeping into her beer on Planet Hulk for longer than Thor's been alive, making a living by enslaving people - classy! - angry at no one in particular and never questioning her own venal existence until Thor came along. The great Odin, King of the Nine Realms, who made it official policy to deal with his problems by sweeping them under the rug and pretending they never existed. Great conflict resolution, Sire. And the Grand Master, a being who probably came into being at the time of the Big Bang, who is... well. Jeff Goldblum. Enough said.

The world of T:R is spectacular. It's colourful and grand and MASSIVE, an endless multiplicity of worlds and dimensions and realms. What grounds us in it is the little-ness of these characters, their essential selfishness, their childish, petty ways. Thor laughed at the mortal characters in Avengers: Assemble for being small and petty, yet every human character in that film displayed more real depth and capacity for growth and self-sacrifice than any immortal character in T:R. They're all kids who haven't grasped the concept that they are not the centre of the universe.

And I think that is so interesting and different. I actually love it. 

I love Wonder Woman too. I love the idea that a person with all the qualities of humanity - love, fear, hatred, the occasional drop of selfishness and stupidity - could be burnished by the years into a being of supreme, even divine kindness, perception and nobility. But I also love this take on the cost of immortality as well. It reminds me of actual mythology in which the Gods use the lives of mortals like pieces in a chess game NOT because they are so different from us - not because they're wiser or better or less petty - but merely because they lack the ability to percieve the worth of any lives except their own. They're made utterly inhuman by the qualities many would label the most human - selfishness, obliviousness, short-sightedness, lack of empathy.

And this, in turn, leads beautifully into the revelation that Thor never actually needed Mjolnir - that the whole issue of 'worthiness' was actually a trick. Which may seem like a bold claim, considering how much various films have made of this, even to the extent of allowing Steve, generally considered the most 'moral' Avenger, to jiggle it for a moment. But that's what this film tells us, straight up! And once you're shown it, it seems so obvious.
 

Consider: what exactly WAS Odin's definition of worthiness? Odin the world-conquerer, the thief and liar, the serial user and banisher of children? And even given such a lax version of worthiness, how did Thor ever meet any real definition of it, back when he was totally into the concept of the wholescale slaughter of another race just so long as they were blue and chilly? The hammer didn't reject him during his attempt to start a war on Jotunheim, an action arguably as violent as Loki's assault on earth. And remember Odin's wording during his exile of Thor: 'Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.'

Not the power of Mjolnir. The power of THOR.

The hammer never gave Thor power. It certainly never gave Thor power based on his worthiness. Odin just told him it did, and used his own magic to ensure Thor believed it, in the same way that Loki used HIS magic to bind Odin's powers and exile his adopted Father to earth. Odin bound Thor's powers to Mjolnir - forced him to access those abilities only through Mjolnir - in order to limit them.

Why would Odin do this?
 
To control his son. To make sure that this boy - who he in this film admitted had been stronger than him all along - never, ever surpassed him the way that his daughter had done. To ensure that he could use his child as an enforcer of his will in the Nine Realms without ever worrying that the child would have the strength or confidence to challenge him in Asgard. To ensure that he could retain effective possession of the powers that belonged to his son. So that when he fell into the Odinsleep, Thor would rule as his regent only, and never have the chance to truly grow up.

I know I'm repeating myself but - man, what a (literal) Godawful father. This person should never have been allowed to have, or adopt, any kids. Ever.

And the Sainted Frigga, whom everyone loved so much - the one who knew more magic than Odin and taught Loki all her tricks - MUST HAVE BEEN AWARE OF THIS. And she was OK with it, apparenly. Just like she was apparently OK with Hela being locked up for millenia and erased from her people's history. Even when Loki was a prisoner in Asgard's dungeons and she was secretly visiting him, she never let slip that she'd presumably been in this position once before. Did she even remember that she'd had a daughter, or was she even better at pretending she'd never made any mistakes than Odin?

Assuming that there's an over-arching plan behind this theme, I think the point Marvel is trying to make with these characters is that humans are actually bigger and more important than we tend to believe. That while the Gods may be powerful they can also be petty and selfish and unchanging - and humans may not be as strong, but we do have the capacity to learn and evolve, to display selflessness and recieve redemption. Odin, Hela and Loki never even admit they did anything wrong. Black Widow, Hulk and Tony Stark dedicate their lives to making up for their past misdeeds, even if that means giving up their lives.

And if they can do it - albeit on a much grander scale - maybe we can too. Maybe we can face what we've done, admit fault, and make up for those actions, even if our misdeeds amount to no more than displaying a lack of understanding and tolerance towards a co-worker or failing to offer a loved one the benefit of the doubt. The point is, you don't need to be larger than life to make life better for everyone.

This is good stuff, Marvel. Keep it up.

JULY UPDATES

Helloooo ducky darlings! Happy Thursday to all. I know it's been a while since I blogged so here are some updates on what's been happening at Chez Zolah.

First up, my Mulan inspired fantasy is now officially on submission to Walker Books, where they're waiting for my usual editor to come back from maternity leave at the end of the month so they can start discussing it and making decisions on whether they want to publish it. Any crossed fingers, held thumbs, prayers to the writing gods or sacrifices of chocolate, crockery or goats would be entirely welcome and appreciated.

Obviously I'll update you as soon as I know something and get the OK to share it. This will probably be a lot sooner if it's a 'no' and we take the book out on general submission. If that happens it'll be the first time I've gone on general sub with an agent (last time, which was in 2004, I was sending my manuscripts directly into publisher's slushpiles) and it will be a fairly nerve-wracking, yet also exciting, process. Eep.

In WIP news, I'm working on two new proposals (that means sample chapters and detailed synopses) both of which I've mentioned in passing here on the blog before. Both are YA. The first is a 1920's timeslip story. The second is a retelling of the Little Mermaid which centres a queer relationship. And I love BOTH of them to bits, so dedicating all my nerves and anxiety to getting these new stories kicked off is is helping with the wait on Mulan quite a bit. Let me know in the comments below which you like the sound of more, and I'll post a snippet next week.

Next! YALC is swiftly approaching and I believe that tickets are still available. The event schedule is now up, so you can not only see when I will be there, but also all the vast swathes of other, far more famous and awesome authors (if I don't get the chance to see Laini Taylor speak at least once I may choke myself on my own fountain pen). IT IS VERY EXCITING. I hope I'll get to see lots of Dear Readers there and sign their books, give them swag, and generally adore them for being the discerning and wonderful people they are. That means you, cutie. Yes, you!

Finally, I recently read The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet and A Closed and Common Orbit, which are adult works of speculative fiction by Becky Chambers. Thanks for the recommendation on these, Emma Pass!

I enjoyed the first one a lot, and although I was strongly aware of the parallels between it and a certain cult SF TV series I shall not name (*cough*Firefly*cough*) that didn't lessen my enjoyment because I could see the author turning all the tropes over and messing with them in a really aware, diverse and interesting way. The second book, A Closed and Common Orbit, though, really blew me away. It went off in a quirky and unexpected direction that I just loved. I can't wait for the next book in this loosely connected series to come out (each book stands alone, with a few characters in common) and I heartily pass the recommendation to read them onto you, Dear Readers.

That's all for today - just remember to let me know which of my WIPs floats your boat in the comments if you'd like a sneak peek next week. xx

AN APPEAL FOR REVIEWS

Hello, my cupcakes - and happy Thursday. I hope the world's been treating you well so far this week. I've been a bit unwell over the past few days, hence why this post is rather short. I'm basically nipping back to make an appeal to all Dear Readers and blogger-pals. It goes a little like this:

If you've read BAREFOOT ON THE WIND - whether that's because you bought a copy or were sent one for review - and you have any thoughts or feelings about it, I would *love* it if you would head over to Amazon and post a review. 

If you've already written a review for your blog or Goodreads - and there have been some simply fantastic reviews, insightful, funny and generous - just copy and paste that. Otherwise, a line or two that sums up your feelings would be great (though don't let me stop you from going the whole hog). It doesn't have to be long. It doesn't even have to be positive, if you have a different perspective to offer. But having a number of reviews on an Amazon page really can make the world of difference to a book's sales, not just on Amazon but all over the internet and in the real world - people often flick there first before making their mind up, and if it seems that others are talking about the book, it may motivate readers to check it out now. And believe me, both I and this weirdo little Feminist story really do need that boost.

So that's my appeal: please review if you can find the time and spoons to do it.

Later on, after I've got my author copies of this book (and have a bit of my energy back) I will most likely reward reviewers by doing a giveaway of some kind, with swag and maybe other nice things. But right now I'm just asking you to do it from the goodness of your hearts if you feel that you can.

Love and snuggles to you all, my crumpets. Next week I shall be posting over on Author Allsorts about my favourite poem (which, to no one's surprise, is actually several poems) and will link across from here for ease of finding. Any questions or potential blog topics to offer? Throw them in the comments.

Read you later!

BROKEN SKY by L.A. WEATHERLY - MY REVIEW

Hello and happy Tuesday, Dear Readers! Today I was planning to do a post about world-building - but over the weekend I read THE BEST BOOK and I just had to share a recommendation and review with you all.

The book in question is BROKEN SKY by L.A. Weatherly. Now, Lee is a friend of mine - I talked to her about the story while she was writing it, and she was kind enough to score me an advanced copy, which I was pretty excited to read. But I've been so busy that Saturday was the first time I've had a chance to pick it up.

I pretty much didn't put it down again for...er...six hours? I read it walking the dog, I read it in the bath, I read it while I was stirring a pot of soup, I read it during my dinner...

Let me 'splain. No! There is too much. Let me sum up.

I read a lot of YA and children's books. A lot. But BROKEN SKY has that rarest of qualities - it feels utterly fresh and unique. Set in what at first appears to be an alternate history version of the 1940's, with all the delightful Noir-ish trappings you might expect (diners, speakeasies, fighter planes, radio broadcasts and jazz music), we soon come to suspect that this is actually OUR world - but in the far future, after a nuclear apocalypse which threw the technological development of the human race back into the dark ages.

Following centuries of painfully clawing back civilisation, the human race decided: no more war. Now a neutral body, World for Peace, oversees all disputes between territories and countries with absolute fairness. No armies, no bombs, no death. The outcomes of such disputes are decided via thrilling aerial dogfights between 'Peacefighter' pilots - the best of the best - from each territory, in souped up fighter planes. The aim is to force your opponent to bail, but without killing them.

It's a set-up that is brought vividly and beautifully to life by the first person viewpoint of our heroine - Amity, otherwise known as 'Wildcat' - one of the best Peacefighters the Western Seaboard has. Scarred by a tragedy which destroyed her childhood, Amity's passionate devotion to the Peacefighter Corps and its ideals is not surprising. She's serious, focused, and dedicated, with a brilliant quality of moral resolution that I admired (I loved the fact that, even when things fell apart, she didn't blame herself - she knew she'd done what was right). Reconnecting with her childhood love, Collie, and imagining another life with him, after they both retire, doesn't really impact on her devotion to the ideal of 'A peaceful loss is better than war'. It was her grandmother and her father's ideal before her, after all.

Which makes it all the more horrifying for her when she learns that the Peacefighter Corp is, in fact, corrupt down to its roots. Not only do they routinely fix the outcomes of fights which decide the fates of millions, they also murder any Peacefighters that don't play along. A horrified Amity discovers that World for Peace have been firmly in the pocket of an insane, astrology-obsessed dictator, Gunnison, for at least a decade. Gunnison has already imposed his vision of 'Harmony' on his own territory. Now he's plotting a violent takeover of Amity's country (and the world), destroying everyone who opposes him. The Corp's betrayal rips Amity's life apart - and exposes secrets from her own past.

Adding depth and a shivering sense of creepiness to this powerful narrative are third person sections from the PoV of Kay, a cynical astrologer in Gunnison's territory who lies, schemes and manipulates her way into a favoured position in the dictator's government. Although Kay is despicable - a sort of inverse shadow of Amity's moral resolve, strength and integrity - she's also all too easy to sympathise with because her fears are completely reasonable: it's not hard to imagine how desperate YOU would be to avoid being sent to a 'correction camp' and question how far you might be willing to go to achieve a place of safety.

Forced to go on the run - hunted everywhere not only by the traitorous agents of the Peacefighter Corps, but also her own countrymen, as they fall under the sway of Gunnison's teachings - Amity desperately fights to get the truth out and protect her family and Collie. The story winds up to a devastating ending with a sucker-punch twist - setting things perfectly in motion for the sequel, Darkness Follows. I really admire authors who have the courage to set up layers and layers of elaborate world-building and make sure their universe is perfectly realised... before they take a hammer to it (ala Garth Nix and the destruction of the Wall in his Abhorsen books). It's harrowing in the very best way.

BROKEN SKY is so good, people. So, so, soooo good. Honestly. It's out today. GET IT. Then come back and tell me what you thought. But no spoilers (you'll know what I mean when you get to the end)!

LIFE & DEATH BY STEPHENIE MEYER - MY REVIEW

Hello, Dear Readers! Happy Tuesday to you all. Before I move onto the main topic of today's post I just need to say a huge thank you to writer pals Emma Pass and Kerry Drewery, and to all the lovely writers (old friends and new) who were at the #UKYAX on Saturday. I think I can honestly say it was the most relaxed, happy book event I've ever been to. If any of you were there, Dear Readers, I hope you had as wonderful a time as I did. If not - try to make it next time! I certainly will :)

With thanks Kendra Leighton and Chelley Toy for the pics!

And now... My review of Life & Death by Stephenie Meyer (henceforth referred to as Smeyer in the grand old Zoë-Trope tradition) which is, in case you've been peacefully snoozing in a woodland grotto for the past week, a genderbent retelling of her internationally bestselling YA vampire novel Twilight. (Guys, you have no idea how hard I had to look to find a link that wasn't spoilery! I'm not going to spoil anyone with this review if I can help it, by the way - there will be spoilers, but they'll be hidden under a cut at the end so you can avoid).

Yes, that's right. Smeyer went ahead and did a genderbent AU of her own novel to celebrate the 10th anniversary of the book's publication. When I heard this I actually had to check the date because I thought it couldn't possibly be serious - it had to be April Fool's, right? But no. It was really true! And then I couldn't decide if I thought it was the worst train-wreck-you-can't-look-away-from idea ever or the best thing I'd heard since Taylor Swift released 'Wildest Dreams' on single. What? Just... I mean... WHAT?!?

Longtime blog readers know that in the past I have taken issue with Twilight (although that was before everyone else started making a career out of slamming it, by which point it seemed a little mean-spirited) and have on occasion chosen to use it to illustrate dos and don'ts of writing. So why would I be interested in buying my very own copy of a book in which the author had presumably simply pressed 'Find' and 'Replace' on the names and had the whole thing rebound for a quick anniversary cash-grab? Well, two reasons, muffins:

1) I genuinely enjoyed Smeyer's later novel The Host, and thought it showed a marked improvement in her ability as both a craftsperson and storyteller. I believed (rightly as it turned out) that she wouldn't be able to resist meddling in more than a superficial way with this new version of her story, and I wanted to see if she could substantially improve it.

2) I love fanfic! Some of my favourite fanfic is Twilight AUs where people change one significant detail about the story and make it awesome. If I'm willing to read it on A03, I should be willing to read the author's own take, right?

So here's the book's deal. Bella has become Beau (short for Beaufort, ikr) and Edward is now Edythe (ha ha ha. Ahem. No, apparently there was at least one real live person called Edythe during the period that Edward would have been alive, so... we just have to go with it. And thanks for that link, Sally!).

But Smeyer has done more than this. She has also changed the gender of almost every other character in the book, including all the vampires except one, a couple of minor non-speaking roles, and Bella - sorry, Beaufort's - parents, Renee and Charlie (and Phil). She states this is because she finds it tough to believe an unemployed father would have been given custody of a baby back in the 80s when Beau was born, and... eh, maybe she's right. What this change makes clear, though, is how dominated by male characters (major, minor and incidental) the story was previously. Life and Death feels stuffed full of women instead, which just shows how easily we forget that women are actually 52% of the planet's population.

Now, in Smeyer's interviews about this book, and in her author's note, she says that she decided to bend the genders (by the way, I'm using 'bend' rather than 'swap' to describe this because I think it better acknowledges that there are, in fact, more than two genders in the world) of her characters because she was sick of seeing people talk about Bella as a damsel in distress. She felt the character only got flak for being obsessed with love/sparkly vampires as a result of being a girl. I think she wanted to show that these choices in characterisation were nothing to do with Bella's gender and everything to do with being a human playing in a world of monsters and magic.

Did she succeed in this? Not really, to be honest. Not necessarily because she's wrong in her point about how we respond to male versus female characters, though. More on that anon. I think Smeyer's mistake is she fell into that trap herself - she even acknowledges it (albeit without apparently realising she's done so). She states straight out in her author's note that Beau's personality 'developed' differently than Bella's. Her opinion on this is that Beau is merely less angry than Bella, doesn't carry a chip on his shoulder like his female counterpart, and is 'more OCD'.

But Smeyer is wrong. Bella never came across as particularly angry or OCD (not loving the casual flinging about of this mental illness, btw, but we'll give benefit of the doubt and assume she really does mean her character has a very mild form of obsessive compulsive disorder, rather than that she's using the term to be cute). Bella never came across as having a chip on her shoulder. She never came across as much of ANYTHING, really.

Bella is a personality void in the story. A list of traits which the other characters respond to as if they were real, but which are never truly demonstrated to us, the readers, in a way that makes her feel alive.

And that is the main difference between Life and Death and Twilight. Because Beau? Actually has a personality.

Yes, the story makes it clear that he possesses the same rather generic list of traits which are all we really know about Bella - the clumsiness, the social awkwardness/shyness, the reserve, the apparent ingrained need to cook and clean, the liking for classic literature - but either because of a natural increase in Smeyer's skill or because she sympathises with male characters more (Edward was always her writer's pet, after all) Beau manages to seem like an actual person on the page.

Despite moaning about looking after his mother, whining about the move to Forks, failing to connect with Charlie, and mocking/snarking about his classmates in exactly the same way (sometimes in almost identical words) to Bella, Beau is immediately vastly more sympathetic as a character. At first I felt that this was my own internal misogyny (yes, we all have it) telling me that a boy in the position of caring for his mother since childhood, and forced out of his home by her all-consuming love for her new husband, was more interesting and worthy of respect than a girl in a similar position.

And perhaps that is partly true. But what is also true is that Smeyer's other changes, large and small, mean that Beau seems like a real, awkward teen, dealing awkwardly with being put in an awkward position. He seems to have some degree of inner life. He doesn't express himself with the same stilted formality that Bella does, doesn't seem to have his life on pause waiting for someone to come along and give it meaning. He demonstrates traits within the action of the story instead of relying on his narration to inform us of them. We can see that while he's shy and awkward, he's also an incredibly laid back type. He doesn't worry much about the future. He has a sense of humour that isn't limited to making deprecating cracks at his classmates. He's aware of his own faults but seems to have at least some sense of self and even self-esteem. Maybe this was how Smeyer always saw Bella. But at the time of writing Twilight she didn't have the skill to show us any of it. Now she does.

Something else Smeyer gets right in L&D is to immediately make explicit the fact that Charlie chose to leave Beau with Renee not because he believed it was best for Beau, but because he knew 'Renee needed him'. Charlie gets a lot of sympathy in Twilight because of Bella's apparent indifference to him. He's cast in many people's eyes as a perfect, loving father with an ungrateful, cold off-spring. Reading in this new version that Charlie prioritised the well-being of his scatty ex-wife over that of his small child, and that Beau consequently was balancing Renee's chequebook and doing her laundry as soon as he could add up and reach the buttons on the washing machine - and that Charlie knew this and approved! - makes Beau's lack of interest in his dad, and his abrupt, overwhelming attachment not only to Edythe (protective, caring Edythe) but to her helicopter family seem much more logical.

When Beau meets Edythe not only is his reaction to her much more immediately romantic - and less filled with terror and hurt - it is also intensely physical. Bella is obsessed with Edward mostly, it seems, because he was mean to her, and then saved her life and was mean to her again. When the realisation comes that she's in love with him it seems to come out of nowhere. But Beau is unequivocally obsessed with Edythe from the start because he finds her hot and sexy and gorgeous and just can't believe she might look sideways at a normal guy like him, and it's clear that he knows it's not sensible or healthy - but he still wants her any way he can get her.

Because of this vital, profound difference between Bella and Beau - not in their genders but in their characters - it's much more difficult to compare Twilight and Life & Death than it might first appear. Having a central character, a first person narrator, who is sympathetic to some extent (although his blithering on about Edith's perfection is as boring as ever) makes a massive difference in the overall quality of the book.

Onto the other vampires of the Cullen clan! Dr Carlisle Cullen becomes Dr Carine Cullen - a Grace Kelly/Marilyn Monroe look-alike, but even more beautiful (pfft). The maternal, beautiful Esme becomes gentle stay-at-home husband Earnest, whose looks aren't really mentioned. Rosalie becomes Royal, dubbed 'the golden quarterback and homecoming king' by Beau, and possessor of a surprising man-bun. Emmett is Eleanor, a terrifyingly aggressive foil for Royal. Jasper is Jessamine, feline and spooky. Alice is Archie, and somehow becomes far less extreme, far warmer, less shrill (I hate to use that word for any female character, but come on) and more interesting in the process.

It's really telling to me how, in attempting to preserve the pre-bend traits of the younger vampires in their new genders, Smeyer instantly makes them more interesting. When all the female vampires suddenly become animalistic, intimidating and not-to-be-messed with, and the male ones are mostly described in terms of their hair and beauty it makes you realise how strongly gender-essentialist the book was in the first place. But Smeyer does some rapid work on the backstories of some characters here too, because apparently it wouldn't do to give a male character a history of having survived sexual assault, or a female one a past as a (terrible amateur) vampire hunter. Would it? *Raises eyebrow*

As for Edythe - she initially seems the least interesting of the bunch, although Smeyer goes to a lot of effort to switch up the descriptions of her to make it clear that she's super feminine. Her hair is strikingly 'metallic', leading me to believe it's more bright coppery-red than that famously ambiguous 'bronze' ascribed to Edward. She's tiny, but as graceful as a dancer (a description previously reserved for Alice). Her hands are described as 'little' and her eyes are 'long', although she does have 'surprisingly muscular' forearms (natch). Beau towers over her. It almost seems fitting for such a fairy-like creature to sparkle in the sunlight.

As the book progresses onward, however, Edythe also emerges as a distinct character from Edward. Freed of the need to act the Bryonic, tortured hero, Edythe keeps her (audible to Beau, anyway) self-loathing and self-castigation to a minimum, exhibits some interest in Beau as a person rather than as the vessel for floral-scented tastyblood (with thanks to Cleolinda) and an impenetrable mind, appears to have a rudimentary sense of humour herself, and offers convincing emotional vulnerability that actually makes the sudden, desperate connection between the two feel somewhat realistic.

OK, she's the definition of a manic pixie dream girl, and OK, she indulges in the same sort of weirdo stalker behaviour as her male counterpart. But she actually seems sorry, which is more then Edward ever does. What's more, her inhumanity, her alienness, are so much better established that it feels much easier to accept that she cannot be expected to conform to human behavioural norms. Beau's easy and unquestioning acceptance feels more like a reinforcement of his irrational crush rather than a death-wish.

Less wholesomely, Beau's repeated and loving descriptions of the hollows under Edythe's cheeks, her 'sharp' shoulder-blades, 'thin' arms, the 'fragile' 'twigs' of her collarbone, her 'vulnerable' slenderness and the fact that he can count her ribs makes it clear that part of Edythe's beauty is severe emaciation (presumably from having been half dead of Spanish 'flu when Carine transformed her). Beau not only notices this thinness; he clearly desires it desperately. It's a facet of her appeal. Something deeply whiggy is coming out of the author's subconscious there and I think these parts should have been edited responsibly before the book was published.

Another interesting thing that swims to light in this new version is how truly odd and out of place it appears when everyone in Beau's life, including Charlie, seems fixated on getting him paired off with a girl and attending the dance. I honestly can't remember if this plot point was hammered home with such verve in the original book. Maybe it's not. Or maybe we're all just much more used to seeing girls pressured to fall in love and focus on romance and defining themselves by relationships (preferably with boys). All I know is that by the time Beau finally confesses his and Edythe's relationship to his father, I was starting to think that Charlie was caught up in some kind of mortal panic that his son might be gay. Leave the kid alone!

More messed-up stuff comes in the form of Charlie *not* bothering to sabotage Beau's truck when he thinks his son is going to sneak off, as he does with Bella's in the same situation. Apparently only girl children need their autonomy physically restricted, kids! I also remain baffled by how a vampire who has been eavesdropping on both humans and vampires thinking about and having sex for nearly a hundred years, apparently manages to know absolutely nothing about it - a fact of the story that sadly remains unchanged.

Cool stuff comes from the new Volturi, who have a different line-up and a totally awesome history that took me by surprise. If only Smeyer had used this version in the original books and allowed them to be multidimensional people instead of pantomime villains! Also, there's less pointed victim-blaming from Edythe for Beau. I wonder why...

And now: spoilers!

THE SCORPION RULES BY ERIN BOW

Hello, hello, hello, my lovelies! I hope you are all doing well after my sort-of hiatus? I am mostly up and about again, although still not very comfortable in any position other than standing up or lying flat. Luckily I had a really, really good book arrive in the post last week - kindly sent to me by the lovely PR people of Simon and Schuster - and so I had something fun to do during the lying down parts. As a result, today I bring you what will hopefully not be an incoherent squeeful mess of an early review of THE SCORPION RULES, by Erin Bow, which will be released in September this year.

A quick precis: THE SCORPION RULES will probably be dubbed Dystopian by most reviewers, but actually I think it falls more comfortably into the category of pure science fiction (it might almost, almost be Utopian fiction, but there are arguments to be made there). In any case, the novel deals with a future perhaps five or six hundred years away from ours, in which radical climate change has forced a complete upheaval in the world order.

Humanity, facing catastrophic losses in habitable landmass, essential resources, and devastating plagues caused by the change in the environment, turned on each other with such ferocity that the world population dropped by half, and then by another third, and then another quarter. Extinction, largely self-inflicted, seemed inevitable.

And then Talis - a highly developed AI which had been given the task of 'conflict abatement' by the UN, and hooked into all the world's satellites, computers and - you guessed it - weapons systems, decided that enough was enough and took over with brutal efficiency. Having gotten everyone's attention by wiping half a dozen of the remaining cities off the face of the earth he (and the AI *is* a he, but no more on that because spoilers) set up a new system of government. He himself is the supreme planetary ruler, and he ruthlessly enforces a series of iron-clad laws in an attempt to stop large scale conflict from ever erupting amongst humans again.

The basis of this new world order is that when war happens, it must be personal. The only long range weapons are held by Talis himself; everyone else has to literally get their hands bloody if they want to fight. And as both a symbol of this and it's logical conclusion, the rulers of all nations in the new world are required to have children - and to offer those children up, at the age of five, to Talis. They're kept as hostages within strictly isolated and controlled enclaves known as Preceptures, where they are conditioned to accept that if their parents declare war - any war, for any reason - their own lives will be forfeit.

The children of the world leaders - known as Children of Peace - stay within these Preceptures, under the guardianship of AI carer/jailers, until the age of eighteen, at which point they can go home. But when that happens, their countries fall into regency (with the children of the regent offered up in the same way) until the former hostage themselves can produce a child, and that child is old enough to be offered up as a hostage, allowing their parent to ascend to the throne... and on and on.

The frontispiece of the book is Robert J. Oppenhiemer's famous quote:

"We may be likened to two scorpions in a bottle, each capable of killing the other, but only at the risk of his own life."

It's a savage quote that sums up the savage world which Erin Bow has created. And yet THE SCORPION RULES is one of the most profoundly compassionate, hopeful, and human books I think I've ever read. And that's even though several of the most compelling characters are themselves inhuman AI constructs. 

Greta, the heroine of THE SCORPION RULES, is a seventh generation hostage, so perfectly educated for and resigned to her role as a probable sacrifice that her most passionate wish - in fact, her only passionate wish - is that when death almost inevitably comes for her, she will meet it with dignity. Her memories of her childhood friend, Bihn, who was dragged screaming to her execution when she was nine, are particularly chilling because Greta seems to regret the manner of that death more than the death itself.

But Greta isn't a cold or unloving person. It's simply that, as she herself puts it later in the book, Greta is sleep-walking through life. The reality of her existence - and the existence of everyone in her day to day life - is that in which an almost idyllic, pastoral upbringing with kindly AI teachers, unfettered access to books in a peaceful library, and days spent working in the garden with a sort-of-family of childhood friends is a white sheet of civility draped over the blood-soaked terror of absolute, constant surveillance at every moment by electric-shock wielding 'proctor' robots, the threat of physical and emotional torture for non-compliance, and a roll of inescapable, never-ending deaths. Unquestioning devotion to duty is how Greta manages to deal with that reality, and as the story unfolds we realise that her seemingly equally resigned fellow prisoners each deal with that reality in their own way too.

But even though Greta is only half-awake, she has... something. Some quality of leadership, resolution, strength, that makes others look up to her - and as such, she has the potential to become a fulcrum for change within not only her Precepture but also Talis' perfect world order. Which is exactly what happens when Greta wakes, is forced to wake, by the advent of a new hostage who is not peaceful, resigned, or willing to die (or be kept captive), let alone with dignity.

This captive is Elian, unexpectedly thrust into his role by the abrupt rise to power of his grandmother (who has no other close relative under the age of eighteen). Having grown up as the son of a humble sheep farmer, he is used to a kind of freedom - mental, emotional and physical - that Greta is hardly able to comprehend, and Elian is equally unable to comprehend the resigned compliance of Greta and the other Children of Peace. After seeing him brought to the Precepture in chains, Greta is struck by this quote from Talis himself: Slavery is no part of natural law. Even though Greta has never considered herself to be a slave before, and even though she at first refuses to accept the significance of her reaction to Elian's treatment, this is the beginning of the end of her blind acceptance of the life she has lived so far.

As always, I'm trying very hard to steer clear of spoilers in this review, but I need to make it clear that THE SCORPION RULES does not concern a heroic rebellion against a corrupt and self-serving government as in the style of The Hunger Games. This story is not a romance - although there are romantic elements - and nor does it shy away from moral grey areas. No easy answers are offered by Erin Bow in this book. We see firsthand the cruelty, the brutality of Talis' reign and the terrible consequences for the Children of Peace, innocent children who are warped and tortured almost to the point of breaking by the system. But we also see the consequences when humans successfully - although briefly - manage to circumvent Talis' rules in order to attempt to take control of the Children of Peace themselves, and it's more cruel and brutal still. There are no thrilling battle scenes in this novel, but it is basically a story about war - and there is no attempt to sugarcoat the realities of that.

As always, the shining strength of Erin Bow's work is in her characters, who are vivid, evolving and nuanced in a way that makes them unforgettable. It's often said that all villains are the heroes of their own stories (in fact, Erin said this to me herself, on Twitter) but very few villains are also sufficiently well written that they are able to be heroes or near-heroes within the protagonist's story, too. In this novel the main antagonists carry out acts of unforgivable horror, from small-scale torture to mass murder - and, importantly, the author does not attempt to justify or excuse these actions, instead depicting with visceral honesty the consequences. And yet the characters responsible are still portrayed as fully realised and even, somehow, sympathetic human beings (including, again, the ones who aren't really human at all).

While Greta is rightfully the central character and heroine of THE SCORPION RULES, this is an ensemble piece which beautifully explores a truly diverse range of characters. And when I say diverse, I don't just mean that they are varied personality types - they're also racially diverse, diverse in the presentation of their sexuality, and diverse in religion. There's a wonderful character who is disabled and uses adaptive prosthetics, whom I loved deeply. But then, if I'm honest, I loved all of them deeply. This book is also beautifully, beautifully written, as expected from the author of Plain Kate and Sorrow's Knot (my review for Sorrow's Knot can be found here). Here's an example from very early in the book that send a little thrill down my spine:

"It was almost noon; hot, dry, and windy. The apple leaves were gold from the dust on their tops and silvery underneath. The sun came through them in swirling coins, and beyond, the prairie chirred and whirred with grasshoppers."

The contrast of such lyrical, poetic language with the savage events of the story makes both more effective (and, honestly, gives me such an author-crush, it's slightly embarrassing).

THE SCORPION RULES is a bloody, breath-taking, beautiful book. Both terrifying and mesmerising, it looks unflinchingly at the human consequences of war and offers up complex characters and untenable choices without ever sinking into nihilism. I think Sorrow's Knot will always be my personal favourite of Erin's novels (and one of my favourite novels of all time), but Erin has definitely equalled her achievement with that novel in writing this one. As a fellow craftsperson I'm left in awe, and as a reader I'm left feeling transformed. It's a very fine piece of work indeed.