Sarah Harakas
Everything in & around Rhuidean (just a handful of the 50-something chapters) was what kept me from dnfing. The development of the worldbuilding & lore in these chapters & how they related back to Rand & the philosophical questions they posed was really interesting & engaging. Almost everything else was a slog.
Metal From Heaven was a brutal, hallucinogenic, obsessive, vengeful, queer, anti-capitalist fever dream full of train heists and magic and straps and knives and dykes on bikes and I loved it.
Marbled into the brutality, like a fancy cut of meat, is a hopefulness that was welcome amongst the harshness of the world Marney inhabits. But it is the kind of hopefulness that beats you up and leaves you bruised and aching (but in a good way, you know?)
I found the prose, filtered through Marney's bruised peach heart & mind, to be wonderfully poetic. It was languid at times, frenetic at others, it was harsh and angry, it was foolishly nostalgic. It ebbed and flowed. It resembled ichorite itself. It was scrumptious in a way that made me want to bake it into a cake and eat it. It reminded me of “The History of Music” part of Sofia Samatar's The Winged Histories. Especially every time Marney addressed “you” (a repetition that always left my heart aching just a bit.)
The lore drops & worldbuilding were so seamlessly integrated, as were Marney's internal asides, that there was little to no disruption to the flow of the story, in my opinion. In fact, the only times that the lore dumping felt like a little bit too much at once was when characters who weren't Marney were the ones doing the info dumping. The religiosity was an aspect I was not expecting, yet it was integral to the story, to the characters, to the world at large, and it worked well to further delineate the haves and have-nots: the true believers vs. social believers but actual agnostics.
Chapter sixteen had me utterly spellbound. I will always have a soft spot for stories that, in one capacity or another, integrate the idea that everything is connected. The manifestation of Clarke's version of that theory was a metamorphosis that i was not expecting but which mesmerized me nonetheless. The climax of the book was so bittersweet that triumph and heartbreak could not exist without each other.
I was so happy to be along for this ride and I will most definitely gobble anything else that Clarke writes in the future.
Praise the Torn Child. Praise the Oneness. Unalone toward dawn we go, toward the glory of new morning!
The first half of this book is very very good. Experiencing everything from Kyr's very indoctrinated and brainwashed pov was a unique experience for me as a reader and it was interesting to recognize the explicit atroctities that were being filtered through Kyr's brain only on an implicit level. Kyr wasn't really the “space Azula” I had seen her described as but she still definitely sucked at first (see again: indoctrination and brainwashing). The 50% point of the book was absolutely batshit, which I mean as a compliment. It felt like an end of the story climactic moment happening only halfway in, which made me excited to see what exactly would happen in the back half of the book. However, the back half of the book, in my opinion, sacrificed the character development and interpersonal relationship growth in favor of a deus ex machina device to be able to wrap up the plot. The interesting threads that were woven in the first half of the book in terms of the characters and their growth and relationships kind of unraveled, or at least weren't completed, in the second half and I don't think it quite stuck the landing. It's still an entertaining ride of a story with a complex cast of teenaged characters who are all just trying to survive their shitty circumstances.
Poetic prose and present intermingled with past, with memories. The prose lures you in like the light of an anglerfish, but instead of being some deep sea creature's next meal, you are engulfed by the lives of each of the women telling their own stories, as well as the larger story of the empire and the war and its aftermath. “The History of Music” is my favorite section, the most poetic, the most beautiful. A woman attempting to write a new song, grappling with her own history: her loves and fears and traumas; her loneliness and happiness. It's very beautiful.
I was very excited to read this prequel story set about 500 years prior to The Priory of the Orange Tree, and my excitement was well deserved. If you've read Priory, then you'll already know the general layout of this book's plot: there's a potentially world-ending event that happens and our four protagonists must figure out how to navigate the world falling apart among them. There's a Berethnet royal, a Priory sister warrior, a dragon rider from Seiiki, and a sweet boy from Inys. And while both books share those general similarities, they do not detract from ADoFN being its own story (though, of course, it is intrinsically linked to TPotOT). Also like the first book, ADoFN holds its strengths in the small lives and interpersonal connections of the book's narrators. The heart of the book lies unerringly in the characters of Tunuva, Dumai, Glorian, and Wulf, and in the relationships they share with the people they love. Personally, I've never fallen so immediately in love with two characters as I did with Tunuva and Esbar. On the literal first page of their introduction I was hooked. The themes of womanhood and motherhood (those who choose it, those who do not, and those who, for one reason or another, are not given a choice) intersect and interweave throughout the entirety of the book and, in my opinion, are some of the most interesting parts of the book, even above the dragons and wyrms and sword fighting and magic. Other themes include duty versus love, family born and chosen, community versus loneliness/isolation and how each shapes (or warps) a person. This book is sweet and bittersweet, heartbreaking and heartmending, thrilling and quiet by turns. And it is even gayer than the first book, so if that's your thing, rejoice! (It is my thing, I was left a gay mess on multiple occasions and I thank Samantha Shannon for the beautiful sapphic romances, including the sex scenes!) All in all, it is worth the 800+ pages, definitely recommend.
The sequel to The Unbroken is even better than the first book, in my opinion. The external struggle against colonialism continues, with it's incredibly ugly offspring on full display in the nation of Balladaire. Luca and Touraine struggle with how best to extricate Qazal from the clenched jaws of its former colonial master, while Luca's uncle, as well as many other court nobles, work to ensure the southern nation remains dependent on Balladaire. The main antagonist of this book is one of the most despicable characters I've ever seen, and I mean that as a compliment to how he is written. Not to be forgotten though, the internal struggles of the heart also continue. Touraine and Luca continue to dance around each other, pine after each other, fight with each other, and strive for the same end goal, through different methods. When Touraine finally makes a choice for herself and takes exactly what she wants, well, reader, I wept tears of joy. There are some great new supporting characters, and also a handful of chapters following Pruett back in Qazal that are equally as thrilling as what is happening in the main plot. The threads left open at the end of the book make me extremely excited for book 3!
The blurb on the front cover of the book is correct: I love Nona immediately upon meeting her. This book, like its two predecessors is about love. Domestic love, platonic love, romantic love, all consuming love, how love changes you fundamentally as a person. This book is also about obsession, the need for retribution, and what happens when some just cannot or will not let go of those needs. I cried the hardest in this book out of all of the Locked Tomb books so far.
Touraine and Luca are compelling and deeply flawed main characters whose individual desires are antithetical to the feelings they are developing for one another. What happens when you're on opposing sides of a conflict but you still want to save the other person? Lots of mess. Highly recommended for some good gay angst.
Idk if it's because I listened to the audiobook instead of reading the physical book, but I just didn't like this story and all of the characters kind of sucked and not in a good way. I didn't really care about any of them.
Listen, this book is incredibly challenging to read the first time. And also it has one of the best payoffs I've ever experienced in a book. This book made me love Harrow more than i ever thought possible. This book is the longest and most complicated love letter ever penned. It's one of my favorite books of all time.