Jimmy

Reading this as my classic of the year, and following on from a Brandon Sanderson work, it really strikes me just how much writing styles have changed over 150 years, and how people just do not write like this anymore.

Without a doubt, the loquacious, digression-laden yet aloof third person omniscient perspective is not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. This is by no means a fast paced book, but it is the kind of book where a whole page is spent describing how an old miller eats his toast off the table and he is evocatively likened to a parabolic curve. While there is a heavy sprinkling of misogyny and dated declarative statements, these snippets and asides delivered in the author’s wry, sardonic voice gave me immense delight and elicited in physical chuckles. This may be my first Thomas Hardy book, but if this is reflective of his usual delivery, then I’m definitely up for more.

The story itself was a bit more middling for me. I had the questionable benefit of reading an edition of the book which came with an introduction and fulsome footnotes, and while these were helpful to contextualise the novel and explain some of the more obscure references, they did spoil some important plot points, and the result was that it was somewhat obvious quite early on where the characters were all going to end up (or maybe love triangles (or quadrilaterals) have become too predictable by this day and age). The character work was generally pretty convincing in my view with each of the suitors shaping into very distinct individuals in the course of the story, though I felt Bathsheba was the weakest - very rarely living up to the headstrong, independent woman she is repeatedly touted to be. The introduction also mentioned how a key theme of Hardy’s work is the power of human folly and coincidence in the course of people’s lives, and I felt this was quite deftly addressed, with moments of genuine frustration at what certain characters were doing or going through, balanced with a certain sympathy for their position.

All in all, I would certainly count Far From the Madding Crowd as a good read - not enough to fall into my favourites of classics, but indubitably a strong reminder as to why such classics deserve to continue appearing on my reading list.

I think it’s hard to deny that The Devils is a very entertaining book from Joe Abercrombie. The question is whether the entertainment is delivered in a way that is enjoyable to every reader, and that is where it becomes quite subjective. The dark scatological humour is dialled up to the max, the violent action is generally as graphic as it is gratuitous, and the characters are equal parts colourful and caricature. The storytelling style is direct, vivid and draws the reader in, and often borders on being over-dramatic. The pacing ebbs and flows well in my opinion, but as others have noted, did have a movie-like cadence - even feeling like a video game storyline with boss battles of increasing scope and difficulty. I can see how this was immediately picked up for film adaptation, though I’m not sure I see James Cameron in this as much as something more in the style of Matthew Vaughn.

A number of other factors ended making this middling for me. The overall plot was completely predictable after the first dozen chapters or so, though there were a few twists in how it reached the end. The prose suited the tone of the story and I often found myself having a little wry chortle, though it also sometimes became a bit repetitive and overdone with some of the characters' internal and external dialogues. As for the characters themselves, while I found them both individually distinctive and engaging as an ensemble, I didn't feel like I built any strong emotional connections with any of them, and they seemed to have the same overall arc of being more than meets the eye with their vice being as much be their virtue. And I think that's a lot of what it comes down to - I certainly enjoyed reading The Devils, but this is also not a book that leaves you with lasting emotions, resounding themes or profound thoughts, and that meant it couldn't really be elevated beyond some good fun. There's definitely a place for this kind of book in my reading rotation, but it isn't calling for a reread soon.

It's quite amazing to see how quickly Bernard Cornwell found his formula with the Sharpe novels. As the first of the books to be written, I wasn't quite sure what to expect of the writing quality, but I can certainly see how this book kicked off the success story of the series more generally. It's true that this particular tale felt a bit less nuanced than the ones that come before it chronologically - Sharpe essentially does no wrong, the adversaries are telegraphed and are all eminently punchable in the face, and the romance was about as deep as the Spanish allies are reliable. But the core story beats just work, and Cornwell clearly demonstrates a natural aptitude for depicting the realities for battle from the ground level with all its confusion and brutality. A solid, fun read, nothing ground-breaking but a perfect palate cleanser after something heavy.

The Dandelion Dynasty series is a quintessential case of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. While I don’t think any individual book quite cracks my favourites of all time, Ken Liu has, across this quartet of tomes, crafted an extremely deeply thought-out world, replete with cultures, histories, traditions, philosophies and mythologies. Against this backdrop he has then unravelled a plot which is so intricate and expansive in scope that there was no way I could I predicted the conclusion that was reached by the end of the final book.

There are so many things which this series does well. While it undeniably draws very heavily on imperial Chinese history and various conflicts and interactions the Chinese dynasties had with northern nomadic peoples, this derivation is much more than window dressing. Liu has clearly thought through and expanded on the various aspects which he has taken inspiration from and there is a very organic feel to how they both work within the world that he has created and inform the views and actions of the characters. The stand out example of this to me (and one of the main ways this series differentiates itself in my eyes) is the manner in which language, writing and philosophy were woven into how the characters thought and acted and also had a critical impact on major plot points, which I feel I haven’t seen to such a degree since reading Tolkien. The way that the characters were built up with innate personalities based on their upbringing and background, which were then meaningfully changed and challenged by the people they interact with and the experiences they undergo, was also quite compelling to me.

The other main thing which has impressed me immensely with this series is how it deals with inter-cultural conflict - not just as a clash of two different peoples who are intent on self preservation or conquest, but as a collision of ways of life, age old customs and deep-seated morals. When two peoples are so fundamentally different, but somehow have to coexist, there are undeniably issues that arise at every level of society, from the rulers down to the lowest class, and from an individual’s personal perspective to the macro view of the state. The Dandelion Dynasty taps into all of these, and has characters grappling with questions like how certain values can mean different things in each culture, whether one can truly forgive the atrocities of the past committed by both sides, what is the greater good for both cultures, what does it mean to belong to one culture or the other, or both… I cannot think of another fantasy book or series where both the plot and characters are so tied up with the consideration of these kinds of issues of humanity and the outcomes of the decisions made in response at both personal and political levels.

This isn’t a perfect series. Across four doorstopper books, there are certainly places where pacing suffers and time jumps are sometimes confusing to follow. Some of the side characters are also fell into recognisable stereotypes. I also had a minor suspension-of-belief gripe (particularly in the last book) with the technological leaps that were being made in the time given, even though the actual inventions themselves as twists on real world devices was extremely creative. In the end though, it is no denying that this is a monumental work which ticks boxes across the board - for world building, character development, unique prose, high stakes, climactic battles, unpredictable plot… the list goes on. It belongs in the S Tier for me, and although I’m not slating for an immediate re-read, I can already see it will be just as rewarding an experience, if not more, when I get to it.

As someone who watched plenty of British comedy while living in the UK as well as being an avid follower of the Would I Lie To You? show, Unruly comes across as a very faithful representation of what it would be like if David Mitchell did an extended history show, replete with sardonic side-notes and rambling rants together with some astute observations. I essentially read this book with the iconic voice of David Mitchell in my head, without even needing the audiobook.

I found it a decent balance between a good chortle and some serious historical analysis, which certainly provides a modern-day dressing down of some of the institutions, relics and personages which are considered hallmarks of British history, but I can see the enjoyment of this book depends heavily on whether the reader enjoys David Mitchell's sense of humour. I'm also unsure about the impact or longevity of the book for a non-UK reader thanks to its high concentration of references to contemporary and recent UK events, many of which would have flown over my head had I not lived there for a few years.

If you are looking for a detailed and intensely researched chronological narrative of the English monarchs, this is not the book for you, but if you instead want to take a cynically lighthearted romp through the Dark to Middle Ages of British history with a focus on those at the top, I think this suits well. Bonus points if you are already semi-engaged with British politics and culture.

It was clear from the ending of The Will of the Many that the story of Vis was going to expand dramatically, and The Strength of the Few very quickly showed the scope of that expansion. Three different Vis, three different worlds, three different core plotlines - a lot to juggle even for a book that is over 700 pages long.

On the whole, I think James Islington did an admirable job handling the separate parts of the book, with each of the worlds feeling very distinct while still being clearly connected through the workings of the basic system, the details for the broader plot that we learn about across the worlds, and of course the focal point of Vis as the perspective character throughout. In particular, having the three Vis all starting from the same point post Iudicium, with the same knowledge, biases and experiences, and seeing him gradually developing into essentially distinct personalities due to the peculiarities of the world which he finds himself and his trials and tribulations in each, was the most convincing part of Islington's writing for me, even if Vis remains to be a bit too good at doing everything he comes across. The world building continued to be immersive and as a result I don't think I had the same problems with pacing in the middle part of the book as others did. The ancient historian in me particularly enjoyed the relevant real-world references to the cultures which formed the basis for each of the worlds, and I'm curious to see how they will continue to add colour as to how those worlds interact with each other.

However, splitting the story like this wasn't without cost, and there were two main aspects which made this book not quite as solid a entry as its predecessor - the first was the structural jumping between plot lines, which though unavoidable to a degree, certainly felt jarring at times particularly when climactic events were happening in one world, but we would find ourselves shunted to another at the end of a chapter. There's almost a sense that Islington enjoys setting cliffhangers a bit too much, and the abruptness of some of the transitions together with some time skips definitely impacted the flow of each of the narratives. The second was the other characters, very few of which were given the amount of attention and development that the supporting cast received in The Will of the Many. Many seemed to be included primarily to move Vis' story forward or served to add colour to the worlds but without having much depth. The third and final part of the book also didn't quite hit the mark for me, with some plot twists that seemed a bit forced and an almost unrelenting rush of shocking events and momentous decisions being made without leaving enough time to breathe between the world jumps and to let the story beats make their impact felt on the characters involved.

I definitely still enjoyed The Strength of the Few, and look forward to seeing where Islington takes Vis with the next book, but have to knock a star off this one for not quite being the tight package that its predecessor was.

A very insightful account of the reigns of Philip and Alexander, the two Macedonians who dominated Mediterranean history during the 4th century BC.

This may not be the most comprehensive account of Alexander's campaigns, but by setting Alexander's narrative against the backdrop of what Philip achieved, Goldsworthy convincingly shows the extent of Philip's influence on Alexander, not just through the army which he had set up, but in terms of Alexander's motivations, methods of governance and overall modus operandi. I also felt that Goldsworthy provided a refreshing lens on the well-known episodes of Alexander's life with his consideration of the ancient accounts based on what would be actually be pragmatic and plausible in the circumstances.

Goldsworthy really hammers home the point that we are so removed from the subjects here, not only in terms of passage of time and deficiencies of the source material, but also in terms of historical context and relateability. As a result, it is extremely difficult to understand what truly occurred as well as what the intentions were of these great personalities. Everything needs to be considered while maintaining an awareness of the realities of the time period, the potential biases of the sources, and the dangers of applying modern-day viewpoints to ancient personalities.

All in all, a well-researched and nuanced book which shows there are still new perspectives to be brought with respect to one of history's most celebrated commanders.

It's easy to see why this tale has become a classic, and feels satisfying to have finally read the whole book in its entirety. While there were indubitably parts of the plot which became a bit convoluted, the core story is so engaging and the characters so larger than life that the book remained very difficult to put down for most of its length. It was a particularly special experience to be reading this while on holiday in southern France, and being physically in Marseilles, Avignon, Arles and other locations in the book really added to the immersion. Bonus points for its timelessness, and that makes it a 5 star for me.

This is a solid telling of the Trojan War story by Stephen Fry. I say ‘telling' and not ‘retelling' as Fry does not significantly deviate from the storylines and perspectives of the traditionalnarrative (like many recent books of the same vein), but rather distills, dramatises and delivers the tale in a way which is much more easily digestible to a modern audience. His own wry style comes through, especially in the stage-setting episodes where he quite artfully ties together the threads needed for the tapestry of the Trojan War itself, yet he still manages to pay homage to the source material, particularly once he gets to the key moments of the siege itself, where a number of Homeric references and mannerisms are woven in - although sadly I don't think he got in any epic similes. Overall, nothing to blow my mind, but an enjoyable read.

This contained everything that one could expect for the culmination of the Jack West Junior series. Fast paced action, clever tie-ins with historical and mythological events, mind-boggling spectacles and plenty of near death experiences - all things which Jack and his team have to surmount in order to save the world.

Aside from the creativity of the labyrinth itself, I enjoyed some of the more reflective interludes which acted as meaningful ways of breaking up the action and strengthening the emotional engagement with Jack and his friends and family. It was also cithartic to see the various characters get the endings which they deserved.

A couple of knocks on the rating due to plot armour being a bit overly thick sometimes which lowered the impact of certain events, and some of the action was so bombastic that it took away from the spectacle which was deserving for the settings in which the action took place. Ultimately though, a fitting conclusion to the series which has been a consistent enjoyment for me over the years, and I look forward to one day doing a full re-read to appreciate the callbacks and Easter eggs.

What a behemoth of a book.

Expectations were high for this culimination of the first arc of The Stormlight Archive, but although finishing the book left me feeling as though I had experienced something momentous, ultimately it did not land as convincingly or as powerfully as some of the earlier entries in the series.

The structure of Wind and Truth was essentially set up by how Rhythm of War ended. The book would need to cover 10 days, and there would be a gradual build-up until the final showdown at the end of that period. However, it was difficult for me to come to terms with how much the characters do and go through in this book (the longest of the series so far) with it being the shortest overall time period. It didn't feel slow in the sense that not enough was happening, but rather the opposite, in that there was so much going on with the detail of each perspective throughout the 10 days, that the momentum of the ultimatum felt a bit lost. This was not helped by a number of the perspectives involved the characters going through somewhat repeated experiences.

As others have also pointed out, the ‘therapy' aspects of this book also felt a bit heavy handed to me. The way that Sanderson interweaves the realistic mental and emotional struggles of the characters with their personality development and their experiences in the plot is to me one of the most masterful aspects of the earlier books in the series. In Wind and Truth, this is a lot less organic, with a number of plotlines involving characters largely talking either others or themselves through psychological issues, and this more ‘tell' rather than ‘show' approach made the emotional breakthroughs less rewarding, as well as feeling more unrealistic given the short timeframe of the plot.

That is not to say the book as whole was not enjoyable - there are some spectacular moments for all of the main character perspectives, and I especially thought the Adolin storyline (which was probably the most grounded) was very engaging and provided a compelling viewpoint from a non-Radiant in a world where powers have become dominant. The continued worldbuilding through the visions in the Spiritual Realm were also engrossing, and I enjoyed learning more about this history of Roshar and what led to the present day state of affairs. The stakes feel appropriately high and there are momentous occurences across all the points of view with a lot of unexpected results leaving the fate of many of the main characters as well as the world as whole truly uncertain. I'll still definitely be coming back for the rest of The Stormlight Archive when Sanderson picks it up again, but hoping that he can recapture some of the more nuanced storytelling magic from the earlier books.

Sharpe's Trafalgar puts a twist on the usual Sharpe formula by putting him at sea. I've not read the Hornblower series, which many people seem to compare this to, but while the plot does have its slightly slow moments, this entry still contains gripping and exhilarating action sequences showing the full brutality of gunpowder conflict, as Cornwell is known for crafting, which is paired with a host of equally likeable and dislikeable characters to keep Sharpe company. The resulting story gives a realistic taste of what a maritime voyage halfway around the world would have been like, and vividly brings to life one of the most famous naval battles in history. Nothing mind-blowing, but a solid entry in the series.

On the one hand, an epic fantasy set in an ancient Roman-themed world is something that I've always dreamed about writing. On the other hand, I have cooled on the magic school setting after Harry Potter especially, feeling like it makes for less well-rounded and mature themes and characters. So I was a bit conflicted with starting The Will of the Many, given these were two of its main tentpoles.

However, it quite quickly became clear that my misgivings were going to be put to bed. James Islington has definitely levelled up from his Licanius trilogy, and has done a masterful job in taking a number of fantasy tropes (which all could be considered well-worn in isolation) and bringing them together in a way that feels both familiar and fresh at the same time. I was immediately engaged from the opening chapters, and thoroughly enjoyed the way that the main character's backstory, his strengths, his flaws, his motivations and his values unfurled and was integrated seamlessly with how the world in which he inhabited was revealed. The writing reflects a ‘show not tell' approach, which really contributed to how organically the world-building was achieved, and how easy it was to become immersed.

I was particularly captivated by the development of Vis as a protagonist. While he superficially embodies many main character stereotypes (lost royalty, orphan, tragic backstory etc.), these end up playing out through the story in meaningful ways, and as a reader I could really see how these aspects fundamentally contributed to his personality and world view, which are then gradually altered and impacted by the people he meets, the relationships he builds, and the experiences he undergoes. While there are a few moments where he seems to be conveniently proficient at things, it generally feels like he earns his wins, and has to face the consequences of his actions. Despite the focal characters being late-teen/young adult, the book doesn't shy away from confronting scenes or heavy themes, with horror and brutality being clearly exposed without being gratuitous, and at the same time delving into philosophical considerations of whether complacency and abiding by the rules of the system is equivalent to buying into and supporting that system.

This is therefore a tremendous start to a new series, and I have no qualms with giving it 5 stars. James Islington clearly knows his audience, but uses that knowledge to create a story that is well-rounded, well-grounded and well worth a read. With so much more of the world to uncover, and the ending raising far more questions than answers about what is coming next for Vis, I'm definitely looking forward to the next instalment.

After my first foray into grimdark fantasy wasn't entirely positive, I did wonder whether this kind of story-telling just did not click with me. However, Joe Abercrombie has totally changed that view for me with The First Law trilogy, and I can totally see why this is a cornerstone of the sub-genre.

If you are after happy endings, heroic triumphs and heartwarming character redemptions, this is not the series to read. This trilogy, and this final book in particular, drives home the point that failure and disappointment, in all their various forms and permutations, are facts of life, and try as the characters might to strive for something greater and recognise a capacity to change, such hopes are often dashed by the harshness of reality, and adversity can just as easily bring out the worst in people as it can the best. A lot has been said about how character-focussed this series is and how they are what makes the series great (and I agree), but the thing that really struck me was that Abercrombie is able to tell this decidedly unrosy tale set in this cynical, unforgiving world without making me feel despondent throughout the entire read - instead, there was just enough levity, just enough intense action sequences and just enough highs to make the experience enjoyable but still have the gut punches be impactful, and it is that balance which I feel makes this series work for me.

I have seen some comments say that the trilogy felt like one elongated story instead of three episodes of a larger story arc, and I can definitely see that - it helped the flow of the events to be able to read the books one after the other, and they definitely built up in scope and scale culminating in Last Argument of Kings, which tied together the various plotlines and linked up all the characters very well, assisted by one of the most comprehensive denouements I have ever read. The only minor gripe I had was that I felt that one of the final reveals was somewhat contrived in that it meant that essentially the entire plot had been orchestrated by one character from the beginning, but this didn't meaningfully impact my overall enjoyment of the series as a whole.

The First Law trilogy certainly surprised me for the better, and though I think I need a bit of a palate cleanser for now, there's definitely going to be more Joe Abercrombie on my to-be-read!

So Ariadne is touted as a feminist retelling of the Theseus and Ariadne myth, but I don't think that it particularly succeeds in either the ‘feminist' or the ‘retelling' aspects.

Taking the retelling aspect first, the most well known part of the myth is covered in the first third of the book and seems to add very little to the usual narrative beyond being told from Ariadne's perspective. I'm admittedly less familiar with what happens with Ariadne following her marriage to Dionysus, but I think there is a reason why that part of the myth is less mainstream - the lack of a particular ‘plot' per se. This meant the Dionysus parts of the book (which made up the majority) were noticeably lacking in narrative drive, and the inclusion of the Phaedra aspect did not overall story more compelling.

On the feminist side, aside from using the voices of the women, I did not feel like this book meaningfully engaged with the myths from a feminist angle like some other novels of the same vein. My two main gripes were that: (a) It seemed like the author had a preconceived notion of wanting to have two opposing kinds of women in Ariadne and Phaedra, and was determined to push this contrast for the entirety of the book, with the result that there was very little character development for either of them (particularly for Ariadne, who aside from making two out-of-character decisions, largely remains the same person despite her experiences); and (b) the book clearly wants to address various aspects which are often glossed over or not featured in regular myth narrative, like childbirth, motherhood, arranged marriage etc. as well as showing how women frequently suffered as a result of the actions of men, but while the events certainly elicited sympathy, I did not feel like were properly woven into or even always relevant for the story, and some almost seemed included for the sake having them.

There were certainly flashes of emotive prose and significant foreshadowing, and some moments in the book were quite poignant and powerful - I thought the portrayal of Pasiphae was quite well done, for instance - but ultimately, Ariadne didn't meet the expectations of a meaningful retelling for me, feminist or not.

So, I finished this book in essentially 2 days. While that was partially thanks to finally having a solid extended period of reading time while journeying halfway down the length of the UK by rail, it was also because Yumi and the Nightmare Painter was truly quite enthralling, and almost resulted in me missing my train stop.

While I don't think this book is particularly groundbreaking in any particular respect, I feel like I was drawn in by every element, from the vivid and creative worlds and the characterisation of Yumi and Painter, to the coalescing plot and the themes that brought it to its climax. What was especially powerful to me was Sanderson's use of perspective in the storytelling, which felt grounded while at the same time showing how meaningful it can be to see things from another's eyes. This is really a book of contrasts, and the way that Sanderson was able to balance opposing worlds, seemingly incompatible attitudes, different cultures, and changes in tone from levity and seriousness, was quite masterful. Add to this the very strong emotional payoffs in the final quarter and some of Sanderson's best prose, and it's really hard to ask for much more.

Admittedly it wasn't all perfect - there is an explanatory info dump towards the end of the book which I didn't feel was completely necessary and interrupted the flow of the story somewhat, and it's certainly arguable if the conclusion would have been more impactful without the final scene for Yumi and Painter, but ultimately I don't think these detracted from my enjoyment of the book. I believe Sanderson has said this was his personal favourite of his Secret Projects, and I'm so far in agreement. Highly recommended for any fantasy, anime or character-driven fans - definitely in my top tier of Sanderson books.

This is a 3.5 for me.

I felt that Brandon Sanderson really had fun with this one. I have not read any of his books outside of his Cosmere universe, but The Frugal Wizard's Handbook for Surviving Medieval England strikes me as something quite outside his usual wheelhouse. And that's meant in a good way - if you are looking for a fun read with an interesting premise, a decent plot, and a generous dollop of sci-fi mixed with history, but want to avoid an army of characters, reams of lore and convoluted storylines and subplot, I think this is a worthy contender. On top of that, the art from Steve Argyle is (as others have remarked) perfectly suited to the vibe.

Unfortunately, the book's strengths are also its weaknesses. I did feel that the setting, while vivid in some places, was not fully fleshed out and inconsistent in others; the characters, other than the main character, were a bit flat and sometimes even caricature-like (perhaps intentionally so); and although the overall storyline was entertaining, it did feel a bit simple at times and there were some “really?” moments for me. Ultimately, I don't think that these critiques massively hindered my enjoyment of the book, and I would still recommend to anyone that I thought would be interested in the style and genre, but probably not a book that I'll be reaching for as a re-read in the near future.

So, 3.5 stars, rounded up to 4 for some of the self-consciously-joking-yet-deadly-serious interludes and the art.

I read this as a bit of a palate cleanser between fantasy novels, and while it did scratch the historical itch (and also made me realise that I know less about the March of the Ten Thousand than I thought I did), I did feel as though this was not Conn Iggulden at the top of his game.

While the historical events are still thoughtfully and relatively faithfully converted into a fictional narrative, and the battle scenes remain vivid and captivating, the character-work is a little less engaging than in his other historical series. The two main characters are well fleshed out and the transitional development of Xenophon as a leader was natural and convincing, but many of the other secondary characters were a bit flat, and I felt that this was where a historical fiction author could have flexed their creative muscles. This was then not helped by romantic subplot that didn't really resolve, and a somewhat abrupt ending, so the final result was not altogether satisfying.

3* therefore for a good but otherwise not standout read.

This is what you get when you combine ‘epic' with ‘historical fiction'. While this book is never going to win any races for fast pacing, the level of detail and research together with the masterful weaving together of historical events into a story containing vivid settings and a cast of hundreds that all fully come alive in the pages makes for a way of enjoying this period of history in a way that is unrivalled. Having learnt significantly more about the late Roman Republic since the first time I read this book, I was able to appreciate it even more for all the little hints, references and off hand remarks which lend further depth to the story that McCullough crafts while also creating subtle links to future events. Marius and Sulla remain my two of my favourite Roman figures as a result of this book, and I think this will always be confort food for me.

This book, and the series as a whole, just elicits an emotional reaction in me which is produced by few other books. It's not without its plotholes, conveniences and logical fallacies, and rereading it is an adult, I can see how the somewhat heavy handedness of the theological message and the writing of some female characters are valid criticisms. However, ultimately, reading a good book should make you feel things strongly, and whether it is due to its vivid characters, its imaginative worlds, its emotional conclusion or just pure nostalgia, The Amber Spyglass engages me on an emotional and an intellectual level, and leaves me perhaps less generically amazed than my younger self was, but all the more reflective and appreciative of Pullman's writing. A perfect book it may not be, but I think I will never not enjoy losing myself in it.

The Stone Sky brings this sci-fi fantasy cross-over trilogy to a satisfying close.

I think the strongest aspect of this book as well as the trilogy as a whole is how it dealt with tensions and interactions between characters when faced with immense societal and environmental pressures as well as having lived through harrowing and emotionally scarring experiences. The impacts that these have on the characters and their personal, familial and communal relationships are powerful and convincing. I also enjoyed the Hoa sections of this book, which provided some much desired and fascinating world building and background for the Stillness - though these interludes in the story did impact the flow and pacing of the main plot, and I would perhaps have liked more of this to appear in earlier books as I think it would have provided more meaning and context to what was going on particularly in The Obelisk Gate.

I also need to comment on the magic systems. Orogeny remains one of the most novel and creative powers that I have come across in fantasy recently, and I feel that Jemisin has managed to craft it as an ability that can be scientific and clinical in its operation and application when used in some ways, but can also be wielded instinctively and organically with novel results. This created a great balance between being able to learn how the system works, but then also being intrigued when something unexpected was achieved with it. This is in marked contrast to the other system actually called ‘magic' in the book, which I found incredibly opaque - there seemed to be a similar blend of hard and soft systems like orogeny, but even by the very end of the trilogy, I could not work out how the ‘magic' was used, what it was or wasn't capable of doing and how it interacted with orogeny. By the end, it felt like certain things happened with ‘magic' just because they could, which wasn't very fulfilling. This definitely contributed to the 4* star score.

Jemisin's writing style continues to be a twist - I think it works well for the way that the story is told, but can also see how it is polarising. Plus points for a powerful conclusion and main character development, but docked points for some unexplained plot conveniences and pacing issues. Overall a very unique fantasy read which I am glad I investigated, but am unlikely to re-read soon.

A very intriguing read. I can definitely see why this book received the accolades that it did.

The world building is fantastic and organic - I see there are some complaints regarding ‘info-dumping' in other reviews, but I did not find this particularly problematic, as the reader is thrown straight into a world that is at the same time familiar in some senses but completely alien in others without any easing in, and any details given just made me want to learn more. There is an intricate weaving of history, culture and society which forms a deep overall backdrop for the story while at the same time having a direct impact on the experiences, choices and struggles faced by the characters. The book deals with some very mature and real-world issues, and in a way that on the one hand does not shy away from its realities even if they can be confronting and horrific, but on the other hand does not wave in the face of the reader for the sake of eliciting a reaction. The use of second person and present tense was daring, and while jarring at first, it definitely grew on me and created a direct connection with Essun's point of view which made for an empathetic reading experience once I got used to it.

The three perspectives each had their strengths and weaknesses - I felt that on the whole, the Syenite storyline was the most engaging, and although I caught on quite quickly to the twist that the three different viewpoints were leading to and the pacing did feel a bit stop start in some places when jumping between perspectives, the plot kept my attention throughout. Ultimately, I didn't feel like there was an X factor to elevate this to amazing for me, so it remains a 4-4.5*, but I wouldn't hesitate to recommend this as a specimen of modern sci-fi fantasy that powerfully breaks new ground (or earth, perhaps).

Coming back to this series after first reading it over a decade ago, this rendition of the story of Genghis Khan still feels just as engaging and satisfying. Conn Iggulden does a fantastic job at both bringing the reader into the world of the steppes and the harsh way of life of the Mongol tribes, and also telling a rivetting story about the early life of Temujin and the events that would shape him into the leader and conqueror that he became. Despite the taking of some historical liberties, the Wolf of the Plains retains its general sense of realism and it is obvious that it is also meticulously researched. I could knock a half star off for underdevelopment of some of the secondary characters and pacing in the second half of the book, but the nostalgia of re-reading and it just genuinely being a good read bump it back into the 5 star range for me.

Crossing the Rubicon contains a very insightful and detailed analysis of the events of 49BC. From this perspective alone, this book is excellent. Fezzi pulls together the disparate narratives of the various ancient sources for the events of that year, and methodically goes through them to tease out not only the sequence of the historical events, but also what was being experienced by the various figures involved. This very effectively highlighted the similarities and disparities between the sources, showing how different accounts can be affected by their context, their intended audience and the authorial agenda, as well as demonstrating that the most comprehensive picture can only be obtained by analysing multiple perspectives.

I did feel the book was somewhat let down by two things - its scope, and lack of a clear argument. I think it's unfortunately unavoidable for any book focussed on a particular moment in late Republican Rome that a large amount of set-up will be required. This was quite rushed through in Crossing the Rubicon, and also bounced between various locations and events in manner that wasn't always easy to follow. Additionally, despite the insistent reiteration of ‘that fateful year 49 BC' (which I must admit became a little beaten to death by the end), there wasn't a real conclusion to how Caesar's decision was ultimately ‘fateful' or any meaningful discussion of the long-term consequences of that decision.

The result was that although Fezzi's attention to detail was illuminating, there was nothing that particularly hit home.

This book, and the trilogy as a whole, was a difficult one for me. I went into the series with quite high expectations based on the fact that it was a fantasy series couched in Chinese mythology and culture (which is a rare spawn) and also due to the high praise that I'd seen on a lot of internet reviews and reading lists. However, I ended up having a two main issues with it that significantly impacted my enjoyment, even though there were some very powerful aspects to the story.

The first was the use of the Chinese mythos and history. I'm not sure if this is just a result of cultural background, but I grew up with a lot of Chinese stories and folklore, especially the Journey to the West. The Poppy War draws a lot of these, but while these elements was creatively used in some ways, many of the references felt very on the nose to me. For a more Western comparison, it would be the equivalent of having a story set in a fantasy alternative universe, but having Zeus or Hercules being dropped in. This definitely broke the immersion for me, and together with the very overt historical allusions also, I felt the worldbuilding could never decide on whether it was trying to create it's own setting with its own lore, or whether it was just reinterpreting and amalgamating aspects from the real world.

The second was that I did not find any of the characters inherently likeable. While I understand that Rin was not intended to be the typical hero that the reader is meant to root for, I found her incredibly difficult to engage with, mainly because everything that she did or experienced was an extreme. As a rather rationally minded person myself, it was very frustrating to see the lack of character development in this sense, how even with everything she goes through, down to the very last chapters she continues to make rash decisions and be completely unreasonable. This frustration is exacerbated by the fact that the reader is constantly reminded about how ‘powerful' she supposedly is, so much so that she considers herself a ‘god' by this last book, yet she is constantly upstaged either in scenarios where her abilities aren't sufficient, or she just acts on impulse or is reckless. The result is that very few of her victories felt deserved, and it often seemed like she managed to achieve what she did by chance, or just by virtue of being the main character. Some of the other characters were more convincing - Nezha for instance saw good development - but because the story is almost entirely from Rin's perspective, the reader isn't able to get a wholesome picture of any of them. As others have mentioned, this is very much a series that could have benefitted from multiple perspectives, as well as more distinctive character voices.

It also has to be said that I'm not particularly well-versed in grim-dark fantasy, and from what I've seen, The Poppy War series has a lot of the trademarks of that subgenre. It may be that this kind of fantasy is just not for me, because although I felt Rebecca Kuang did a phenomenal job in depicting the horrors of war, both physical and psychological, the overall tone of the books, together with the issues I had above, meant that my level of actual enjoyment gradually diminished the more I got through the books, and I was more motivated by the goal of finishing than actually having fun reading. The final verdict is that while I can appreciate what the books were trying to achieve, they didn't end up ticking the boxes for me.