Lioness Rampant by Tamora Pierce (audio)

Book four in this quartet had me wondering how we were going to get all the loose threads tied up by its end, but we did get there! I am very appreciative of Pierce’s writing (and Trini Alvarado’s narration) throughout, and will miss Alanna. It looks like there are some other books related to the Tortallan world; I’ll see about tracking those down.

In Lioness Rampant, we see Alanna take on the biggest, baddest adventure yet – and perhaps her first proper quest, with a goal of international significance and not just that of improving her own reputation (although that remains important to Alanna, who as a “lady knight” must always be proving herself). She faces hazards out of all proportion, and will have to face old enemies again. We meet back up with every character who has mattered for the four books, including one we thought we’d killed off already, and introduce new heroes. Alanna continues to reckon with her choices and ask herself what it is she really wants out of life.

“I can only blame myself,” she growled. “I could have gone to a convent, never learned to wrestle and be dumped on my head, never have broken any bones or fallen in the dirt. I’d be clean and wear pretty dresses. By now I’d be married to a buffle-brained nobleman with a small fief. I’d probably even have clean, pretty, buffle-brained children.” Trying to wipe her hands before taking the reins, she found her breeches were as muddy as her hands. “Don’t remind me I picked this life. I have no one to blame but myself.”

I’m leaving this plot summary pretty loose: crazy odds, huge ambitions, epic battles, new and old heroes and foes. I am still mulling where we leave everyone in the end: Tortall’s future is more or less secured (to the extent possible) by Alanna’s heroism, and the good work of her comrades. But the hero herself… well. Reader responses will vary. I’m not sure how I feel about it all, but I am very glad that Pierce is making me think and feel all these things.

I would be so glad to keep reading in this world, or anything from this author.


Rating: 8 earbobs for the series.

The Woman Who Rides Like a Man by Tamora Pierce (audio)

Book three in a quartet that began here and is flying by. In The Woman Who Rides Like a Man, Alanna has been newly knighted, and the world now knows that she is a woman. We find her traveling through the southern desert (because it is winter and she loathes the cold) with her faithful manservant and trainer, Corum, as her only company. She is in search of adventure, and also legitimacy in the eyes of a court that does not generally approve of women warriors. She finds the first, at least, with the Bazhir, a loose nation of desert folk, and the Bloody Hawk tribe within that people. There is a battle, she proves herself by combat, she is adopted by the tribe; but the existing shaman views her as an enemy, mostly for her gender. After she kills him in a fight she never wanted in the first place, she is tasked with becoming the Bloody Hawk’s shaman in his stead, until she can train a suitable replacement. (There are some interesting cultural questions here; I am more or less as surprised as Alanna that such an important role should go to an outsider.) Of course, the candidates to replace her turn out to be two girls, something that does not bother Alanna but gives the tribe some further trouble.

“I think I’m leaving you in a fairly quiet place,” [Corum] began as he unpacked in his tent. Alanna was watching as she scratched Faithful’s ears. “You weren’t well enough known here that you could get into any trouble, and I thought they’d stay away from ye. But I come back and you’re the mother-blessed shaman of the tribe! You’ve adopted three young ones and you’re forcin’ the women to accept two of their own sittin’ with the men!”

“You’re turning purple,” Alanna commented when he stopped for breath.

But as the Woman Who Rides Like a Man (so called by her new tribespeople, with respect and admiration), she is well placed to push for such a revolution.

In the course of her accomplishments with the Bloody Hawk, Alanna also enjoys a reunion with Prince Jonathan, and they renew their love affair. He asks her to marry him, and one day become his queen; but this will lead in a different direction than he hopes.

By this novel’s end, the prospects for the kingdom of Tortall are looking up, based upon Jonathan’s work with the Bloody Hawk, which is in turn made possible (I’d argue) by Alanna’s relationships. But Alanna’s personal life remains in some upheaval. She’s come a ways from the time when she told the goddess she would never love; in one of her quieter revolutions in what women can be, Alanna takes lovers as she pleases. But she hasn’t settled on what exactly it is that she wants. Luckily, we head into book four with another quest on the horizon.

These books were originally published in the 1980s and have aged remarkably well. I think there is room for some concern in the portrayal of the desert tribespeople, but it does not feel (at least to this reader) necessarily objectionable. I’d defer to a sensitivity reader, perhaps.

I do still love Alanna and her attitudes and adventures, and am looking forward to what the final book in the quartet may hold.


Rating: 7 swords.

In the Hand of the Goddess by Tamora Pierce (audio)

Book 2 in the Song of the Lioness quartet continues to please. We know Alanna from the eponymous first book, where we left her mid-adventure. We meet her again still in-scene, though we’ve fast-forwarded; she is a competent and respected squire approaching the trial she must endure to become a knight. And she is dreading it, to an extent that feels a little inexplicable to this reader; she has been so good at everything she’s tried so far, although often as not that’s a feature of hard work. Alanna still lives as a boy, now a young man, with only a few close friends knowing her truth. This generally means she’s the smallest, and there is always some self-doubt.

One of the trajectories she goes through in this novel is her resistance to ‘love’ (or, as it sometimes seems, sex). It is also increasingly necessary that she live the truth of her identity. It’s never been a question that Alanna feels like a girl – she even wishes for a little more knowledge of how to wear women’s clothing and be ‘pretty.’ She poses as a boy for the privileges it provides her, to study the martial arts, and not as a matter of identity. So, one of the places we see her moving is toward declaring her true identity – but only after she achieves knighthood.

The other plot thread that provides tension is that of a threat to the throne, most pointedly in the form of its heir, Prince Jonathan, who is Alanna’s good friend and perhaps something more. The threat comes from inside the royal circle, and is magical as well as substantial; a supernatural weapon is used to obscure the truth, leaving Alanna mostly alone in fighting it. That storyline will come to a head alongside the question of where Alanna puts her breasts, as one friend forms that inquiry.

I still appreciate Trini Alvarado’s reading of these books, which is just a little clipped in a way that feels just right. (Maybe I’ll describe that better in book three.) It’s all a grand adventure, and I feel invested in the growth of our heroine, who very much rides into the sunrise at the book’s end. Even after these decades, she feels like a worthwhile hero, not at all dated. See you soon!


Rating: 7 phantom swords.

When the Tides Held the Moon by Venessa Vida Kelley

A lovely historical speculative novel starring a young man between worlds: a Puerto Rican immigrant to early-20th century New York City who is also queer. When he encounters a merman, everything imaginable and unimaginable will change for Benny (or Benigno). In an author’s note, Kelley observes that mermaid tales tend to address hybridity, and Benny does indeed walk those liminal spaces.

We meet Benny in an ironworks in Brooklyn’s Red Hook, where he is gifted in his work, but bullied and harassed and undervalued. From here he is sort of rescued (by injury) into a literal sideshow act, via employment by one of Coney Island’s entrepreneurs. He joins a built family of other folks on the margins: immigrants and those deemed ‘freaks’ for physical appearance or the lives they’ve chosen or been compelled to pursue. And he is tasked with caring for a creature he helped, inadvertently, to imprison. When the merman refuses to give Benny his name (“humanity has taken enough from me”), Benny calls him Río. Benny lives and dines with the cast, who are as colorful a bunch as you’d imagine; he begins to feel a closeness he’s always yearned for, but still does not entirely trust. He even meets for the first time men who love men – and resists the recognition they offer him, at least at first. And at the same time, he secretly spends late nights with Río. Something is developing there that might give him everything, or cost him everything. Or both.

When the Tides Held the Moon is a story about many things. It definitely contains romance, tinted with the fantasy element of a merman: his scintillating skin, his textures, his beautiful voice, his tantalizing spiritual connection with the Currents. It contains a proper plot problem to overcome: for Benny to do the right thing by Río (something he wants for many reasons, including justice as well as his more personal feelings) he has to release him. If you love something, let it go – but Benny has never experienced love before, and the conundrum he faces is abject and existential. As well as logistical: the evil showmaster who has imprisoned Río and, in some sense, Benny and all the cast, will not let his prize exhibit go easily. And, as the author’s note outlines with clarity, this novel is also about marginalized people and that hybridity that Río represents. Kelley writes, “it is my deepest hope that readers will close this book with, if not an appreciation for the struggles of marginalized New Yorkers during the early 1900s, then empathy for those past and present who stride the line between identities and whose quest for freedom demands riding a different wave.” It’s a lovely book about people who offer a number of ways to live, who have built a place for themselves in an unwelcoming world, and about love. I had a wonderful time.


Rating: 7 saris.

Alanna by Tamora Pierce (audio)

I’m certain I got this title off a recommendations list somewhere on the Shelf Awareness site, but that source appears lost to me now. It’s a book about as old as I am, but has not paled, nor does it feel especially dated. Trini Alvarado narrates this audio version, and I liked her style: a little unadorned, with a snappy pace, not lingering; but still with emotion in dialog.

Alanna is a twin of minor nobility, with no mother, and a distracted father. Her brother Thom (being a boy) is destined to go to the king’s court to train to become a knight – something he wants not at all. Alanna (being a girl) will be sent to a convent to study magic. Though powerful, she’s not crazy about that set of abilities; she’d rather study the fighting arts in Tom’s stead. And so it is Alanna’s idea to more or less switch places: they forge letters that send Thom to study magic, on his way to becoming a sorcerer, and invent his twin brother Alan, who will go to court to serve as page, then squire, then hopefully knight.

Accompanied by family servant and former soldier Coram (who is reluctant to help, but confesses that Alanna was always the more talented fighter, and anyway she threatens him with her magic), “Alan” does indeed go to court. The training is hard work, but her pride is helpful in the context of the chivalric code. She discovers quickly that it is important to take punishment without complaint. When she is bullied, she does not tattle, but trains harder until she can defeat her enemy on her own terms. Despite being the littlest, she overcomes obstacle after obstacle. She must eventually reveal her magic to save a friend’s life (especially because that friend is an heir to the throne); it is harder still to reveal her true identity as Alanna, but puberty comes for us all. I loved everything about this story of adventure and intrigue, and only found that it ended too soon, practically mid-escapade – but that only leaves me ready for the rest of what seems to be a fast-paced little series. Cheers to plucky girls!


Rating: 7 tankards of lemonade.

three shorts from the Magic & Mystery collection

I was delighted to try out a couple of these shorts as part of the “Magic & Mystery” collection of Amazon originals. (I am not thrilled about Amazon but I do want Baldree, Fawcett, and Durst, so here we are.)

Travis Baldree’s “Miss Gentle and the Case of the Very Flat Monk” is a mystery with a mystery within it. Abbot Listrum has a dead monk on his grounds whom nobody liked, and a bishop on the way. But when he puts his trust in an odd, suit-of-armored old woman (??) who calls herself Miss Gentle, the questions seem only to multiply. This story offers Baldree’s usual sense of ridiculousness and fun, even when the monk is indeed very flat. There is less space for comraderie and developing relationships, but I’m standing by for more. Preferably from Viv and the rest of the Legends and Lattes gang!

Heather Fawcett’s “A Labyrinth of Honeybees” contains perhaps still more a sense of mischief, even though the stakes are at least as high for the priestess of the Goddess of the Garden, in a world where the king has outlawed that Goddess and all the rest of the eighty-three (or eighty-four, depending on who’s counting) of the gods that the people have long respected. Upon a visit from the royal inquisitor, the priestess must use her wits to sidestep difficult questions. Luckily, the garden itself has a role to play. I found this one a little darker than I generally expect from Fawcett: less light-hearted and playful, more sinister, but every bit as delicious. I’m reminded of course of “St. Valentine, St. Abigail, St. Brigid”, another short, by C. L. Polk, that also involved honeybees and darkness. I’d happily return to this world.

Finally, I think my personal favorite of these three was “The Wednesday Witches Book Club” by Sarah Beth Durst, perhaps because, while magical, it approached most closely a world I live in. Ashley believes absolutely that “Every witch needs a book club,” and following a divorce and cross-country move, she’s ready to give one a try, even if her new acquaintances, and the home they meet in, are uncomfortably put-together and awfully… beige. They have some very interesting problems, however, and in facing them together, Ashley finds a book club and a new group of friends. Despite some serious themes (friendship, belonging) and stakes (remaining human), this story of the three had by far the greatest sense of fun, which is often something I seek, especially in fantasy.

I am glad to take some small bites from several authors whose writings I am always eagerly, anxiously awaiting. These were enjoyable, but I’m still so much looking forward to more full-length works from each!


Rating: 7 ears.

The Warbler by Sarah Beth Durst (audio)

I have followed Sarah Beth Durst through cozy fantasies (The Spellshop and its sequels), darker ones (The Queen of Blood and her fellows), and now here, to a deeply imaginative and deliciously weird look at the choices we make and those we may try to make for others.

Different chapters focus on three different women in three timelines, but it is Elisa who steps forward as protagonist. She has never lived anywhere longer than ten months, and lives by an elaborate set of rules and strategies, taught by her mother, to leave no trace and take no souvenirs. A family curse, passed from mother to daughter, decrees that if she ever “puts down roots,” that concept will be come literal. Elisa will turn into a tree, as her mother did before her. In alternate chapters, we see Lori, also on the run, and Rose, who always wanted to leave her hometown but never got a chance. Is a home something to be desired, sought after, built, and cherished? Or is a home a cage? We meet many weird, twisting, fascinating characters: a handsome bookstore owner, a moon-eyed lover in Paris, a possibly suicidal woman dressed entirely in pink, a gloomy pair of young women, a mystical trio of blue-haired old ones, and a bird-obsessed recluse, among others. I am over the moon that Margaret Atwood’s The Edible Woman gets a cameo here, because that’s the book this one reminds me of – it may even inspire a reread.

The tension between staying and going, and what each of us fears and yearns for among these options, occupies much of the book. Also the gifts and the chains that come out of a mother’s love for her daughter, and the question of what power we have and should have to choose for others. There is romance, and there is some ‘light’ fantasy, but mostly, there is an examination of these big questions, absolutely within the gendered constructs of a society that historically encouraged women to care for husband, children, and home, and what it does and does not encourage now. But it’s not a pointed study, because it’s couched within mysteries, creepy bird collectors, the fine art of dumpster diving, the handsome bookstore owner, etc. I had the best time! And my appreciation of Durst’s work only grows. Onward.


Rating: 8 reels of microfiche.

Agnes Aubert’s Mystical Cat Shelter by Heather Fawcett

Despite not being particularly fond of cats myself, I was charmed by this novel, which offers a few of my favorite Fawcett features: magic, family, wholesomeness, and a gentle arc from prickly acquaintances toward romance, in a cozy package.

Agnes Aubert runs a cat shelter in Montreal, in a version of that city where magic is present, but mostly hidden and only tolerated. She lost her beloved husband a few years ago, and his memory and her mission to save all the city’s cats (!) keep her going; her existence is rather spartan, and highly (you might say pathologically) organized. As a cash-strapped cat shelter (not the most attractive of tenants), she is having trouble finding new lodgings after a magical mishap destroyed her last rental. So she takes – with some misgivings – a suspiciously affordable place that turns out to hide an illegal magic shop in its basement. This results in her acquaintance with Havelock Renard, also known as the Witch King, the world’s most powerful magician. Agnes accuses him of selfishness, and he calls her sanctimonious and condescending. Despite his reputation, Agnes begins to consider that perhaps he is not a ‘dark’ magician after all. For his part, Havelock insists that he would most prefer to be left alone with his novels and magical experiments. She responds that she should at least be allowed to organize his collection of artefacts. Havelock is both allergic to cats and rather like one himself: solitary, contrary, and perhaps in need of rescue.

It turns out that the fate of the cat shelter may well be tied up with the fate of the very world. And notwithstanding Havelock’s unparalleled powers, it may be Agnes – insignificant, unmagical Agnes – who holds the key.

This was laugh-out-loud fun, deeply sweet without hitting (for my tastes) the saccharine, and moving. I will buy whatever Heather Fawcett cares to write next.


Rating: 8 opulent scarves.

Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan (audio)

This was a wild one, recommended by Liz, and very deservingly so. I’ve been putting off writing this review and have realized I just need to come to terms with not doing it justice. Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore is about the intersections and tensions between literature and technology; about love and friendship and belonging; about problem-solving and teamwork; and about the big questions of life.

In contemporary, post-Covid times, we meet Clay Jannon, who after art school went to work for NewBagel in an initially promising techy design/PR/marketing career position, but NewBagel (following an attempted rebranding as the Old Jerusalem Bagel Company) went bust, and Clay’s been out of work at a rough time to be out of work in San Francisco. Then he happens upon Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore, where he is hired by the elderly, twinkling, mysterious Penumbra as a night clerk. From 10pm until 6am, Clay sits at the front desk among the short shelves of used books, which he very infrequently sells to the very infrequent customer. A little more regularly, he is called upon to help card-carrying members of an enigmatic club to access the very different volumes on what he thinks of as the Waybacklist. The bookstore is long, skinny, and vertical, with very tall shadowy shelves accessible by vertiginous ladders. The books on those shelves are in code.

Clay is an engrossing narrator of this story, so self-deprecating that the reader is nearly as late as he is to realize that he can be quite a resourceful problem-solver. He is lucky (or is it luck?) to be surrounded by an assortment of talented, eccentric friends: his best friend since sixth grade, the once-doofy now-millionaire CEO of Anatomix; his roommate, a special effects wizard; the cute girl he meets along the way, a Google-employed genius; a fellow Penumbra clerk and archaeology graduate student; and more. These are just some of the characters (in every sense of the word) who come to Clay’s aid as he tried to solve the many, layered mysteries of Penumbra’s. What is in the coded books in the Waybacklist? Who are the people who come in the night to borrow them? Each question’s answer only unlocks more questions, and the stakes keep getting higher. It evolves into a quest narrative, reaching beyond Penumbra’s compelling bookstore. Clay and company wind up chasing, among other things, a centuries-old and seemingly insoluble riddle, which will involve Clay’s childhood favorite sci fi/fantasy series, a secret society, and the history of one of the world’s best-known typefaces.

At just 8 hours audio (or around 300 pages), Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore feels far more all-encompassing than such a neat package would imply. It’s one of those stories that feels like it’s about everything at once, which I love. Also, books and bibliophilia, even in the face of wild technologic advances: what’s not to love? Ari Fliakos narrates with great energy and personality; I wholeheartedly pass on Liz’s recommendation of the format as well as the book itself. I’ll be looking for more in the Penumbraverse.


Rating: 9 red t-shirts.

An Arcane Inheritance by Kamilah Cole

“…it was nice to have [him] remind her that there was more to her life than school and murders.”
Dark academia, smoldering romance, mystery, fantasy, and examinations of systemic concerns to do with race and class: An Arcane Inheritance is a compelling, plot-driven story to get lost in, mostly. There were a few snippets that could have used another round of edits, but I’m still glad I spent my time this way, and I was definitely hungry for a sequel that doesn’t seem to exist. At least not yet!

Ellory Morgan is a Jamaican immigrant to Queens, where she lives with her Aunt Carol, only rarely hearing from her parents who remain in their home country. An accomplished student, she was accepted to Ivy League schools, but they remained out of financial reach, so Ellory had been working two jobs, caring for Carol (who is in poor health), and wishing for more, when she received an unexpected and unsolicited letter from the ninth Ivy: Warren University. They want to give her a full ride. Flash forward to three weeks in. She’s drowning in her con law class and beefing with the handsome, arrogant, privileged Hudson Graves (whose family name is on the Graves Library where she studies), when a strange thing happens. She steps into another realm, or hallucinates, or – could it be magic? – sees impossible things. And it’s not even the first time. For Ellory, Warren’s campus is filled with half-memories, déjà vu, and an increasing sense of danger. She could swear she’s been here before.

Ellory is drawn to journalism, to research and the quest for truth, so it’s not a great leap for her to begin investigating Warren’s history, especially the more disturbing chapters, like Warren’s ties to the esoteric, to old magic, and the Lost Eight: students of color who disappeared without a trace, over the course of years. To find answers, she finds herself allying with Hudson Graves, who remains both magnetic and highly irritating. What they discover together will threaten lives.

I’ll stop here to acknowledge the small things that, however minor, did detract from my experience. There is a humidifier running in the rare books room of a college library. Rare books generally need dehumidifying. The ideal humidity is nonzero, so you could conceivably find yourself in a place where they need more humidity, but that would be an awfully dry place, and I suspect not Connecticut. The rare books room is also unstaffed, and we’re watching these undergrads just idly drag their hands along the spines, which is not good rare-books-room behavior. Look, I know these are nitpicky little silly details, but they took me out of the story. If the author doesn’t have library background, no sweat – that’s why the publishing house has editors.

Check this one out:

This hidden balcony was barely large enough for three men of Hudson’s size, but it was perfect for the two of them; she placed her hands on the railing with almost enough room between them to open an umbrella.

I kept coming back to this sentence. It’s hilarious to me. There are not three men in this scene, of any size. There is a young man and a young woman. It is also not raining, and no umbrella appears within several chapters of this action. Why on earth are there three hypothetical men of Hudson’s size, let alone a random umbrella (which is anyway what, a pocket umbrella? a golf umbrella? This is like saying “the size of a car” when cars come in Smart and Excursion) on this balcony? It has that whole “don’t think about a pink elephant” effect.

I took such hang-ups with good humor, I promise I did. I like Ellory, her story mattered, I felt stress when the author wanted me to – there are definitely some running-through-the-woods, body-horror, life-on-the-line scenes that worked well. There were some less polished moments, but this is a well conceived plot and mostly very well written. And oh! I almost forget to mention a lovely design element: the page edges are decorated with some fairly intricate art, which is really nicely executed and makes for a genuinely gorgeous package. Not deckled edges (my archnemesis)! Like I said, I’d buy a sequel. Looking forward to more from Cole.


Rating: 7 glasses of white wine.