I invite you to marvel dumbfounded at the
depth of my ignorance and the height of my hubris, as I attempt to mix it with
people far, far smarter than me over at the Strange Horizons Book Club.
Delightful. As with her short stories, Cho
has a rare and unerring ability to do charming without tripping over into twee,
and witty without falling into smug.
A pairing prompted by absolutely no good
reason whatsoever, but one which did at least serve to emphasise that I'm
better with the big ideas than the tedious business of actually backing them up
with numbers and evidence. But then we knew that already, didn't we?
Brought this without realizing it was YA. Heart
sank a bit when I realized it was YA. Heart sank even further when I realized
the protagonist was a teenage girl caught in a dystopian society and which compels her to fight her peers in an annual match to the death.
Never let anyone tell you that twitter is
worthless. In addition to the massive box of books I scored a couple of years
back based on nothing more than a cheap seasonal pun, I'm now in possession of
a gorgeous hardback copy of The Book of
Pheonix, thanks to the fact that the good people at Hodderscape (or at
least their social media managers) have a surprisingly similar taste to me for
dubious mid-90's RnB poetry mash-ups.
Fantasy like I remember it when I first
discovered it. Fantasy that keeps you turning the pages until the small hours
of the morning. Fantasy with wit and grace and grime and agony. Fantasy with
characters that matter, and relationships that matter, and stories that matter.
Where to begin with this? Let's start by
acknowledging that, like Lord of the
Rings, this is best considered as a single book that just happens to be
published in three volumes. If nothing else it'll help you get you over the
hump that is Authority. Difficult
Middle Volume syndrome in full effect there, otherwise.
Oh so very Gallic. Gamine young women; passionate
affairs with older men; existential ennui: it couldn't be more French if it
created continent-wide wide travel chaos through aggressive industrial
work-stoppages whilst eating a wheel of cheese and listlessly smoking a Gauloises inside a Gitanes.
A slightly bizarre reading experience,
this. While continuing the slow migration of my library from the UK to Japan
(i.e. going through boxes of books in Mum's loft) I found an old copy of this
with a bookmark wedged about forty pages from the end.