Jurjen
First book I DNF in 6 years.
Almost every character in the story is motivated by their sexual lust, which for a significant part consists of inflicting sexual abuse.
Chapter 1: extended and explicit rape which is somehow framed as a positive experience for the victim.
Chapter 2: "consenting" sex but the sex is used to make a character stop talking as they are trying to make the other person stop doing something else that might be bad. I count that as sexual abuse.
Chapter 3: Once I read the names of the 2 characters it featured, i thought to myself "oh neither of them are mainly driven by sexual lust right?" Then the first paragraph, it frames the content of that chapter as character A threatening to rape character B in the unholy mansion of rape and sexual abuse.
The motives of a vast majority of the cast is ENTIRELY one-note, and these motives are expressed identically. Furthermore, the general personalities of most characters is just non-existent. Overall I think the character work is super weak.
I also think Palmer makes very poor use of the pretty interesting worldbuilding elements she came up with. The 25th century is a stateless society, and instead people volunteer for "hives" based on what philosophy is dear to them. Instead of exploring these different hives substantively, essentially NONE of them have any substance, and instead they exist to give the autocratic leaders of the hives power. We then follow only the decisions of these leaders as per Great Man Theory, and completely ignore the systems and institutions of the hives.
Also just don't fuck with mycrofts narrative voice. He essentially narrates the events in the story as though he's from the 19th century. And yea a lot of the characters revere the enlightenment era (their sexual abuse building is stylised after 19th century parisian culture or w.e), but I just don't see what it adds or what the point is. I just found it very grating and intrusive.
In short, basically every element of the story repulsed me on some level, and I didn't really like any part of it. I see a lot of people consider this series thought-provoking, and the only thought these 54 pages provoked in me were "I wonder if someone is getting sexually abused in the next chapter", and then in every one someone did. My bad for giving b1 4 stars/a 7.75. It definitely wasn’t that good, I was looking through rose-tinted glasses.
Unlucky I already own b3 and b4.
First book I DNF in 6 years.
Almost every character in the story is motivated by their sexual lust, which for a significant part consists of inflicting sexual abuse.
Chapter 1: extended and explicit rape which is somehow framed as a positive experience for the victim.
Chapter 2: "consenting" sex but the sex is used to make a character stop talking as they are trying to make the other person stop doing something else that might be bad. I count that as sexual abuse.
Chapter 3: Once I read the names of the 2 characters it featured, i thought to myself "oh neither of them are mainly driven by sexual lust right?" Then the first paragraph, it frames the content of that chapter as character A threatening to rape character B in the unholy mansion of rape and sexual abuse.
The motives of a vast majority of the cast is ENTIRELY one-note, and these motives are expressed identically. Furthermore, the general personalities of most characters is just non-existent. Overall I think the character work is super weak.
I also think Palmer makes very poor use of the pretty interesting worldbuilding elements she came up with. The 25th century is a stateless society, and instead people volunteer for "hives" based on what philosophy is dear to them. Instead of exploring these different hives substantively, essentially NONE of them have any substance, and instead they exist to give the autocratic leaders of the hives power. We then follow only the decisions of these leaders as per Great Man Theory, and completely ignore the systems and institutions of the hives.
Also just don't fuck with mycrofts narrative voice. He essentially narrates the events in the story as though he's from the 19th century. And yea a lot of the characters revere the enlightenment era (their sexual abuse building is stylised after 19th century parisian culture or w.e), but I just don't see what it adds or what the point is. I just found it very grating and intrusive.
In short, basically every element of the story repulsed me on some level, and I didn't really like any part of it. I see a lot of people consider this series thought-provoking, and the only thought these 54 pages provoked in me were "I wonder if someone is getting sexually abused in the next chapter", and then in every one someone did. My bad for giving b1 4 stars/a 7.75. It definitely wasn’t that good, I was looking through rose-tinted glasses.
Unlucky I already own b3 and b4.
The more I watch and now read the Female Titan arc, the stronger it gets. The scouting mission is just so engaging. The character development and moments in these couple of volumes is much stronger than earlier on. I do think the anime made the correct decision to pull the training arc forwards, but this way around doesn't bother me all that much. Good stuff.
The more I watch and now read the Female Titan arc, the stronger it gets. The scouting mission is just so engaging. The character development and moments in these couple of volumes is much stronger than earlier on. I do think the anime made the correct decision to pull the training arc forwards, but this way around doesn't bother me all that much. Good stuff.
She looked up suddenly, as if waking from a nightmare. ‘We've got to survive this, Amber. We have to. I've a life to live.’
It's two years to the day since finishing Assassin's Quest and the Farseer Trilogy, and now two years later, I've finished Ship of Destiny and with it Liveship Traders. Man, what a journey.
I think Ship of Destiny is the best of the three, and the best ROTE book yet. Robin Hobb is a tremendously well-rounded writer, and as I discussed at length in my previous Liveship Traders reviews, no element in these books is weak, they're all strong. What sets her writing apart from her peers most–even the very best– is the intensity of scenes. There is such an emotional weight to the characters–their unbelievable complexity and relationships, the writing of the dialogue–that the way in which Hobb immerses you into the drama of the story is unparalleled. It led me to being genuinely astonished at decisions characters made at times, which is a feeling I rarely have reading. Excited, sad, upset or jubilant? Sure. A feeling of astonishment seems reserved exclusively for Robin Hobb.
What is almost equally impressive is that, despite the book having ten or so POV characters, and the story involving a lot of different plots across a lot of different locations, I never felt annoyed at leaving one character, plot and setting for another. They all felt more or less equally strong, and they all built up to the greater story with clear purpose and direction.
What sets Ship of Destiny slightly apart from the first two books–other than the plot's conclusion which I think was perfect–was its thematic conclusion. At its core the story is about identity, and change.
Warning, spoilers ahead:
The Liveships. What are they? It's a question asked early on in the series, and answered in the literal sense late in book one, and more conclusively in the second. But the literal answer is not important. What is important lies in how the Liveships see themselves. They are dragons, they are ships, they are the memories of all who sailed on them, died on them, and experienced life with them. They aren't a sum of all of the above, but all of the above constitutes something different, something uniquely them. Paragon, who starts as more confused about his identity than anyone else is the first to find true solace with who he is. I think that conversation between Etta and Paragon was beautiful:
She took a breath. In a strangled voice she asked, ‘So you are Kennit now?’
‘No, I am sorry. Kennit is a part of me. He completes me. But I am, irrevocably, Paragon.’ It felt good to make that declaration.
I think this passage puts a bow on the series’ themes perfectly. Paragon is for a large part that which came before him, but he is himself. What is perhaps equally strong thematic writing is that this conclusion isn't equally shared by every Liveship. The Liveships are individuals, capable of coming to individual and different conclusions. It is heartbreaking that Kendry couldn't stop seeing himself as a dragon without being one, but who could blame him? The pain is his.
Change. Kennit's tragic story represented one extreme. He could not break out of cycles of pain, hatred, cruelty and violence. He was subjected to it to such a degree that he saw it as inevitable to do anything other than continuing it, trying to mold Wintrow into himself, as Igrot did him. The Vestrits represent the other extreme. Wintrow wasn't Kennit. Informed by his upbringing, he was able to take charge of his life and break the cycle of abuse. Althea would not allow herself to be destroyed by a need for vengeance, letting go of it so that she could experience happiness. The passage at the top of this review encapsulated that realisation beautifully. Malta's arc showed that sometimes change is inevitable, but it doesn't have to change who you are. Despite Malta growing an extraordinary amount throughout the series, being inflicted with physical change, Malta is still Malta. Ending her story by showing how much she grew and changed, but having her final line essentially be: “I can't wait to tell Delo about this” was a stroke of genius, and put a massive smile on my face.
And finally, accepting change in others. This was the moment I alluded to earlier, when I was astonished by the writing. Althea coming to the conclusion that her place wasn't on Vivacia anymore, and that those days were behind her. That Vivacia could lead a happy life without her, and she without Vivacia. That realisation might have been the most earnest and brave in the entire series, if not, in anything I have read. Not having a final moment of connection between Althea and Vivacia felt sad and bittersweet, but as Althea said: “What more was there to say?”
She looked up suddenly, as if waking from a nightmare. ‘We've got to survive this, Amber. We have to. I've a life to live.’
It's two years to the day since finishing Assassin's Quest and the Farseer Trilogy, and now two years later, I've finished Ship of Destiny and with it Liveship Traders. Man, what a journey.
I think Ship of Destiny is the best of the three, and the best ROTE book yet. Robin Hobb is a tremendously well-rounded writer, and as I discussed at length in my previous Liveship Traders reviews, no element in these books is weak, they're all strong. What sets her writing apart from her peers most–even the very best– is the intensity of scenes. There is such an emotional weight to the characters–their unbelievable complexity and relationships, the writing of the dialogue–that the way in which Hobb immerses you into the drama of the story is unparalleled. It led me to being genuinely astonished at decisions characters made at times, which is a feeling I rarely have reading. Excited, sad, upset or jubilant? Sure. A feeling of astonishment seems reserved exclusively for Robin Hobb.
What is almost equally impressive is that, despite the book having ten or so POV characters, and the story involving a lot of different plots across a lot of different locations, I never felt annoyed at leaving one character, plot and setting for another. They all felt more or less equally strong, and they all built up to the greater story with clear purpose and direction.
What sets Ship of Destiny slightly apart from the first two books–other than the plot's conclusion which I think was perfect–was its thematic conclusion. At its core the story is about identity, and change.
Warning, spoilers ahead:
The Liveships. What are they? It's a question asked early on in the series, and answered in the literal sense late in book one, and more conclusively in the second. But the literal answer is not important. What is important lies in how the Liveships see themselves. They are dragons, they are ships, they are the memories of all who sailed on them, died on them, and experienced life with them. They aren't a sum of all of the above, but all of the above constitutes something different, something uniquely them. Paragon, who starts as more confused about his identity than anyone else is the first to find true solace with who he is. I think that conversation between Etta and Paragon was beautiful:
She took a breath. In a strangled voice she asked, ‘So you are Kennit now?’
‘No, I am sorry. Kennit is a part of me. He completes me. But I am, irrevocably, Paragon.’ It felt good to make that declaration.
I think this passage puts a bow on the series’ themes perfectly. Paragon is for a large part that which came before him, but he is himself. What is perhaps equally strong thematic writing is that this conclusion isn't equally shared by every Liveship. The Liveships are individuals, capable of coming to individual and different conclusions. It is heartbreaking that Kendry couldn't stop seeing himself as a dragon without being one, but who could blame him? The pain is his.
Change. Kennit's tragic story represented one extreme. He could not break out of cycles of pain, hatred, cruelty and violence. He was subjected to it to such a degree that he saw it as inevitable to do anything other than continuing it, trying to mold Wintrow into himself, as Igrot did him. The Vestrits represent the other extreme. Wintrow wasn't Kennit. Informed by his upbringing, he was able to take charge of his life and break the cycle of abuse. Althea would not allow herself to be destroyed by a need for vengeance, letting go of it so that she could experience happiness. The passage at the top of this review encapsulated that realisation beautifully. Malta's arc showed that sometimes change is inevitable, but it doesn't have to change who you are. Despite Malta growing an extraordinary amount throughout the series, being inflicted with physical change, Malta is still Malta. Ending her story by showing how much she grew and changed, but having her final line essentially be: “I can't wait to tell Delo about this” was a stroke of genius, and put a massive smile on my face.
And finally, accepting change in others. This was the moment I alluded to earlier, when I was astonished by the writing. Althea coming to the conclusion that her place wasn't on Vivacia anymore, and that those days were behind her. That Vivacia could lead a happy life without her, and she without Vivacia. That realisation might have been the most earnest and brave in the entire series, if not, in anything I have read. Not having a final moment of connection between Althea and Vivacia felt sad and bittersweet, but as Althea said: “What more was there to say?”
She looked up suddenly, as if waking from a nightmare. ‘We've got to survive this, Amber. We have to. I've a life to live.’
It's two years to the day since finishing Assassin's Quest and the Farseer Trilogy, and now two years later, I've finished Ship of Destiny and with it Liveship Traders. Man, what a journey.
I think Ship of Destiny is the best of the three, and the best ROTE book yet. Robin Hobb is a tremendously well-rounded writer, and as I discussed at length in my previous Liveship Traders reviews, no element in these books is weak, they're all strong. What sets her writing apart from her peers most–even the very best– is the intensity of scenes. There is such an emotional weight to the characters–their unbelievable complexity and relationships, the writing of the dialogue–that the way in which Hobb immerses you into the drama of the story is unparalleled. It led me to being genuinely astonished at decisions characters made at times, which is a feeling I rarely have reading. Excited, sad, upset or jubilant? Sure. A feeling of astonishment seems reserved exclusively for Robin Hobb.
What is almost equally impressive is that, despite the book having ten or so POV characters, and the story involving a lot of different plots across a lot of different locations, I never felt annoyed at leaving one character, plot and setting for another. They all felt more or less equally strong, and they all built up to the greater story with clear purpose and direction.
What sets Ship of Destiny slightly apart from the first two books–other than the plot's conclusion which I think was perfect–was its thematic conclusion. At its core the story is about identity, and change.
Warning, spoilers ahead:
The Liveships. What are they? It's a question asked early on in the series, and answered in the literal sense late in book one, and more conclusively in the second. But the literal answer is not important. What is important lies in how the Liveships see themselves. They are dragons, they are ships, they are the memories of all who sailed on them, died on them, and experienced life with them. They aren't a sum of all of the above, but all of the above constitutes something different, something uniquely them. Paragon, who starts as more confused about his identity than anyone else is the first to find true solace with who he is. I think that conversation between Etta and Paragon was beautiful:
She took a breath. In a strangled voice she asked, ‘So you are Kennit now?’
‘No, I am sorry. Kennit is a part of me. He completes me. But I am, irrevocably, Paragon.’ It felt good to make that declaration.
I think this passage puts a bow on the series’ themes perfectly. Paragon is for a large part that which came before him, but he is himself. What is perhaps equally strong thematic writing is that this conclusion isn't equally shared by every Liveship. The Liveships are individuals, capable of coming to individual and different conclusions. It is heartbreaking that Kendry couldn't stop seeing himself as a dragon without being one, but who could blame him? The pain is his.
Change. Kennit's tragic story represented one extreme. He could not break out of cycles of pain, hatred, cruelty and violence. He was subjected to it to such a degree that he saw it as inevitable to do anything other than continuing it, trying to mold Wintrow into himself, as Igrot did him. The Vestrits represent the other extreme. Wintrow wasn't Kennit. Informed by his upbringing, he was able to take charge of his life and break the cycle of abuse. Althea would not allow herself to be destroyed by a need for vengeance, letting go of it so that she could experience happiness. The passage at the top of this review encapsulated that realisation beautifully. Malta's arc showed that sometimes change is inevitable, but it doesn't have to change who you are. Despite Malta growing an extraordinary amount throughout the series, being inflicted with physical change, Malta is still Malta. Ending her story by showing how much she grew and changed, but having her final line essentially be: “I can't wait to tell Delo about this” was a stroke of genius, and put a massive smile on my face.
And finally, accepting change in others. This was the moment I alluded to earlier, when I was astonished by the writing. Althea coming to the conclusion that her place wasn't on Vivacia anymore, and that those days were behind her. That Vivacia could lead a happy life without her, and she without Vivacia. That realisation might have been the most earnest and brave in the entire series, if not, in anything I have read. Not having a final moment of connection between Althea and Vivacia felt sad and bittersweet, but as Althea said “What more was there to say?”
She looked up suddenly, as if waking from a nightmare. ‘We've got to survive this, Amber. We have to. I've a life to live.’
It's two years to the day since finishing Assassin's Quest and the Farseer Trilogy, and now two years later, I've finished Ship of Destiny and with it Liveship Traders. Man, what a journey.
I think Ship of Destiny is the best of the three, and the best ROTE book yet. Robin Hobb is a tremendously well-rounded writer, and as I discussed at length in my previous Liveship Traders reviews, no element in these books is weak, they're all strong. What sets her writing apart from her peers most–even the very best– is the intensity of scenes. There is such an emotional weight to the characters–their unbelievable complexity and relationships, the writing of the dialogue–that the way in which Hobb immerses you into the drama of the story is unparalleled. It led me to being genuinely astonished at decisions characters made at times, which is a feeling I rarely have reading. Excited, sad, upset or jubilant? Sure. A feeling of astonishment seems reserved exclusively for Robin Hobb.
What is almost equally impressive is that, despite the book having ten or so POV characters, and the story involving a lot of different plots across a lot of different locations, I never felt annoyed at leaving one character, plot and setting for another. They all felt more or less equally strong, and they all built up to the greater story with clear purpose and direction.
What sets Ship of Destiny slightly apart from the first two books–other than the plot's conclusion which I think was perfect–was its thematic conclusion. At its core the story is about identity, and change.
Warning, spoilers ahead:
The Liveships. What are they? It's a question asked early on in the series, and answered in the literal sense late in book one, and more conclusively in the second. But the literal answer is not important. What is important lies in how the Liveships see themselves. They are dragons, they are ships, they are the memories of all who sailed on them, died on them, and experienced life with them. They aren't a sum of all of the above, but all of the above constitutes something different, something uniquely them. Paragon, who starts as more confused about his identity than anyone else is the first to find true solace with who he is. I think that conversation between Etta and Paragon was beautiful:
She took a breath. In a strangled voice she asked, ‘So you are Kennit now?’
‘No, I am sorry. Kennit is a part of me. He completes me. But I am, irrevocably, Paragon.’ It felt good to make that declaration.
I think this passage puts a bow on the series’ themes perfectly. Paragon is for a large part that which came before him, but he is himself. What is perhaps equally strong thematic writing is that this conclusion isn't equally shared by every Liveship. The Liveships are individuals, capable of coming to individual and different conclusions. It is heartbreaking that Kendry couldn't stop seeing himself as a dragon without being one, but who could blame him? The pain is his.
Change. Kennit's tragic story represented one extreme. He could not break out of cycles of pain, hatred, cruelty and violence. He was subjected to it to such a degree that he saw it as inevitable to do anything other than continuing it, trying to mold Wintrow into himself, as Igrot did him. The Vestrits represent the other extreme. Wintrow wasn't Kennit. Informed by his upbringing, he was able to take charge of his life and break the cycle of abuse. Althea would not allow herself to be destroyed by a need for vengeance, letting go of it so that she could experience happiness. The passage at the top of this review encapsulated that realisation beautifully. Malta's arc showed that sometimes change is inevitable, but it doesn't have to change who you are. Despite Malta growing an extraordinary amount throughout the series, being inflicted with physical change, Malta is still Malta. Ending her story by showing how much she grew and changed, but having her final line essentially be: “I can't wait to tell Delo about this” was a stroke of genius, and put a massive smile on my face.
And finally, accepting change in others. This was the moment I alluded to earlier, when I was astonished by the writing. Althea coming to the conclusion that her place wasn't on Vivacia anymore, and that those days were behind her. That Vivacia could lead a happy life without her, and she without Vivacia. That realisation might have been the most earnest and brave in the entire series, if not, in anything I have read. Not having a final moment of connection between Althea and Vivacia felt sad and bittersweet, but as Althea said “What more was there to say?”
