Kat Howard - Roses And Rot (2016)

Today my review of Kat Howard's 'Roses And Rot' is up at Fantasy Faction. This is a glorious tribute to fairy tales, drawing heavily from the Child Ballads but touching on everything from Disney to Shakespeare to tell the story of two sisters who attend a prestigious arts school that has secret links to the world of Faerie. Kat Howard gets the Fae right, which is crucial in these kind of stories, and I will happily compare this book to favourites like Diana Wynne Jones' 'Fire & Hemlock' and Ellen Kushner's 'Thomas The Rhymer'. Read more through at the link.

Charlie Jane Anders - All The Birds In The Sky (2016)

My review of 'All The Birds In The Sky' by Charlie Jane Anders is up at Fantasy Faction. I really loved this book, a moving coming of age story about a witch and a mad scientist who grow up as friends but wind up on opposite sides in the coming war between science and magic. The end results is a charming, hilarious and utterly barking mixture of science fiction, Fantasy, fairy tales and vividly observed life. Anders' ability to extract profundities about the meaning of life from absurdist humour rivals that of Vonnegut or Douglas Adams. Read more at the link.

Ellen Kushner - Thomas The Rhymer (1990)

My review of Ellen Kushner's 'Thomas The Rhymer' is up now at Fantasy Faction. It's a fantastic book, a wonderful reimagining of the True Thomas legend, with a genuinely moving conclusion. Click on the link to read about it.

Genevieve Cogman - The Invisible Library (2015)

"That was the whole point of the Library: as far as she'd been taught, anyway. It wasn't about a higher mission to save worlds. It was about finding unique works of fiction and saving them in a place out of time and space. Perhaps some people might think that was a petty way to spend eternity, but Irene was happy with her choice. Anyone who really loved a good story would understand."

'The Invisible Library' by Genevieve Cogman is a thoroughly enjoyable Fantasy adventure featuring alternate worlds, a steampunkish setting, great detectives, fairies, dragons, strong female characters and books, not to mention a compelling central concept. In its inventive use of alternate realities as a series of settings for the ongoing conflict between rival forces of order and chaos, it harks back to classic Fantasy works such as 'Three Hearts And Three Lions' by Poul Anderson or Michael Moorcock's Eternal Champion books. It is held together by its overarching love of fiction, and its steadfast belief in the value and importance of books; that stories are worth preserving because they tell us something important about the culture that produced them, and simply for the joy a good story brings.
   At the centre of 'The Invisible Library' is the Library itself, a vast, interdimensional space that a secret society of immortal dimension-hopping Librarians use to store fiction from alternate realities. It's an inspired creation, drawing on both Borges' infinite library and Edgewood, the house that acts as a portal between the worlds of humans and fairies from John Crowley's 'Little Big'. The Librarians themselves are a classic manipulative secret society, a force on the side of order but filled with dark secrets and arcane power games. Appropriately for a book about libraries, 'The Invisible Library' treats fiction as its playground, cheerfully mixing up Moorcockian Fantasy in its use of alternate dimensions and sinister, chaos-worshiping Fae, the Sherlock Holmes stories beloved of protagonist Irene in the form of the great detective Vale, and the scientific romances of H. G. Wells and Jules Verne in its steam-powered, Victorian-esque London. There are even elements of Lovecraftian cosmic horror in the villain Alberic, a rogue Librarian who has turned to the side of chaos to sustain his immortality. Cogman meshes all these disparate elements together seamlessly, and the book has gonzo invention to spare with its giant mechanical insects and clans of warring werewolves, vampires and fairies. It recalls the mad alchemy of the original steampunk novels by Tim Powers, James Blaylock and K. W. Jeter, rather than the more tired and cynical trappings of the genre that have been overused since.
   In keeping with the book's faith in the power of language, the Librarian's magical powers stem from language itself. The Librarians can speak the Language and force the physical components of reality around them to do their bidding, a literalised form of reification, which links thematically back to Borges. Cogman makes good use of the concept, exploring both the limitations of the technique - you have to phrase your requests very specifically for it to be useful, thus limiting its use as a 'get out of jail free' card for the heroes - and the extent to which it could be abused, in a troubling scene in which Irene uses the Language on a person to hijack an airship.
   As well as an intriguing set-up, 'The Invisible Library' also has well drawn and memorable characters. Vale, the Holmes-esque detective and Kai, Irene's assistant, trainee and secret dragon in human form, are compelling characters, all the more so for having the ability to act against Irene's and each other's interests when appropriate. Much of the philosophical weight of the book comes from Irene's attempts to keep Vale on her side. Vale is a rational and caring person who believes that the Library should use its powers to help people rather than just preserving books. One of the good things about 'The Invisible Library' is that, while the Librarians are unquestionably on the side of order, this does not necessarily mean that they are all good or nice; some of the Librarians will use any means necessary to acquire the books they are after, no matter how damaging the consequences to bystanders. We see this personified in the most interesting relationship in the book, between Irene and her ex-mentor Bradamant. Bradamant cares about completing her mission at any cost, and has thrown Irene under the train in the past to achieve this; as a result, Irene is especially conscious of how her actions affect other people, and wants to do her job without causing harm and to help people on the way if she can. Irene has to prove that she can get results whilst showing Vale that she is ultimately a moral person, unlike Bradamant. Cogman handles Bradamant and Irene's relationship very well; there's no denying that Bradamant is incredibly selfish, manipulative and unpleasant, even going so far as to drug Irene at the climax so that she can finish the job her way without Irene's interference, but she isn't the main villain, and by the end of the book there's a sense that she has learned to respect Irene, whilst Irene, by showing that she is both moral and competent is able to leave behind her hangups about being in Bradamant's shadow.

Diana Wynne Jones - Howl's Moving Castle (1986)

"In the land of Ingary, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes."

'Howl's Moving Castle' is a fairy tale that plays with the conventions and tropes of fairy tales. Diana Wynne Jones goes for broke, creating the wonderful land of Ingary, a world rich in wizards, evil witches, fire demons, mermaids, animated scarecrows, people who turn into dogs and magical castles. It is clearly a book that comes from a deep love and understanding of fairy tales and what makes them appealing. However it isn't afraid to play with these tropes and turn them on their heads. From its choice of protagonist, the eldest daughter, usually doomed to fail in order to set up the success of the more usual youngest daughter heroine, to its deconstruction of its male romantic lead and the inversion of the damsel in distress rescued by the dashing prince, Jones takes joy in questioning the assumptions and generalisations that fairy tales tend to be built on. 'Howl's Moving Castle' still respects the structural demands of the fairy tale; indeed it is so elegantly designed that every thing that happens in the book ties up with that meticulous tidy logic only found in fairy tales. But it is a mature enough tale to leave its characters emotional space at the end, even as it satisfyingly concludes their character arcs.
   'Howl's Moving Castle' tells the story of Sophie Hatter, who works in her mother's hat shop in the town of Market Chipping until one day she is cursed by the Witch of the Waste and turned into an old woman. Compelled to seek her fortune, she takes shelter in the magical moving castle which roams the hills above the town and belongs to the wizard Howl, who is rumoured to devour the hearts of pretty young maidens. Once there she strikes up a bargain with Calcifer, Howl's fire demon, who says he will release Sophie from the Witch's spell if she breaks the contract binding Calcifer to Howl. The nature of magical curses being what they are, neither Sophie nor Calcifer and Howl are able to tell the other what the curse they are under is.
   'Howl's Moving Castle' sets up all these resonant, comfortable fairy tale elements only to joyously subvert them. Many stories flirt with the idea that nothing is ever as it seems, while providing us with characters and situations that fold out in a tired and predictable way. Jones gleefully inverts all the Fantasy tropes she can get her hands on. Sophie, instead of being rescued by the dashing male hero, rescues Howl and winds up freeing herself from her curse in the process. Calcifer, despite being a demon, is not evil, and Sophie's bargain with him is not a Faustian pact that dooms her, but allows her to save Howl and Calcifer and release herself from her curse. Ingary and its surrounding lands exist in a separate dimension to ours, but rather than showing it to us through the eyes of a protagonist from our world, as would happen in your standard portal Fantasy, we experience the world through Sophie, who has lived in Ingary all her life. Later on it is revealed that one of the doors of the moving castle opens on to Howl's hometown in Wales, and there's a fantastic sequence in which Sophie visits Howl's family, and we see what would be normal and mundane distorted into something Fantastical and mysterious through her eyes.
   One of the things that makes 'Howl's Moving Castle' so compelling is how well-drawn and fully-realised its characters are. The ending only works as well as it does because, while all the loose ends are nicely tied up and various character pairings are implied, all of those characters have been given enough depth and agency to show that they have an existence outside of their pairings. But while it has a wealth of memorable supporting characters, the book truly belongs to Howl and Sophie. The two leads work so well because they are drawn with believable flaws, and their relationship feels all the more well earned because neither character idealises the other. Howl may be dashing and charming, but he is also a cad, a skirt chaser, vain, sulky, selfish and prone to 'slithering out' of things. The nature of his contract with Calcifer has made it impossible for him to truly love someone until he meets Sophie, and the horrific fate of the Witch of the Waste, her will and life essence almost entirely consumed by her demon, is a chilling reminder of where he could have ended up without Sophie's involvement.Yet despite all his flaws, underneath his blustery front Howl does genuinely care for other people and about doing the right thing. He always helps the people who come to him asking for spells or charms, for free if they can't afford to pay, and despite his protestations he was planning all along to rescue Prince Justin and Wizard Suliman from the Witch of the Waste. Indeed, he has the strength of character to find Sophie attractive from the force of her personality alone.
   Sophie is no less complex. Aside from her nosiness, which gets her into trouble often enough, her main flaw is being utterly unable to see things clearly where she herself is concerned. Her journey over the course of the book is her slowly starting to realise that she is a powerful young woman with agency who is able to influence the world and the people around her, and her taking control of that power. Because of her position as the eldest child, and staying at home and being put upon by her stepmother, she has no real sense of self-worth, and 'Howl's Moving Castle' is ultimately the story of how she comes to gain this. Her appearance as an old woman is not so much a metaphor as her coping mechanism; being prematurely old allows Sophie to forego the social niceties expected of her as a young woman and to ask the perceptive and probing questions that cause so much trouble. In this it is a reflection of Howl's desire to appear bad. Getting Sophie to blacken his name to the King, or having Michael spread the rumours about him eating young girls' hearts, is Howl's way of ducking out of society's expectations of him. Sophie discovers that she is a powerful witch in her own right. and that much of the curse is her holding onto the appearance of an old woman because it's convenient for her. Her major blindspot is her feelings for Howl, which lead to her misreading the situation and putting herself and him in danger. But part of what makes her so well suited to him is that she is one of the only characters who doesn't put up with his nonsense.
   Beyond its fine character work and subversion of fairy tale tropes, 'Howl's Moving Castle' has moments of pure wonder and marvelous humour. From its inventive and compelling description of the use of seven-league boots, to the wondrous manifestations of the Witch of the Waste's curse on Howl, which features catching falling stars, mermaids and mandrakes right out of a John Donne poem, to the formalised ritual of the King's palace, Ingary is suffused with Jones' vivid imagination. But it's Jones' humour that provides many of my favourite moments. There is a particularly wonderful scene in which Howl goes into a massive sulk by oozing green slime everywhere, and another one where he kicks up a ridiculous fuss over having a cold. These touches demonstrate just how good Jones is at writing books that are both complex and thought-provoking art and loads of fun.
 

Diana Wynne Jones - Fire & Hemlock (1985)

"Only thin, weak thinkers despise fairy stories. Each one has a true, strange fact hidden in it, you know, which you can find if you look."

'Fire & Hemlock' is a retelling of the ballads 'Tam Lin' and 'Thomas The Rhymer', old Scottish folk stories about young men kidnapped by the fairy queen. It is also a deconstruction of the concept of the hero, and a meditation on what it means to be a hero. It is also both a reading list of classic fantastical literature for children and young adults, as well as a primer on how to critique and think about stories. It's also a delicately told coming of age story, an in-depth character study of a girl growing up and becoming an adult. 'Fire & Hemlock' is a complex and ambitious book that demands much of its young audience, but never talks down to them and rewards readers of any age well.
   'Fire & Hemlock' tells the story of Polly, a girl who realises that she has two sets of memories, one entirely mundane, and one in which elements of the fantastical encroach on her life. In the latter, after accidentally gatecrashing a funeral when she was ten years old on Halloween, she meets Tom Lynn, a man who strikes up a friendship with her over their shared love of stories. Over the years, as Polly goes through school and suffers the breakup of her family due to her mother's undiagnosed mental illness and her father's flakiness, she has occasional meetings and exchanges letters with Mr. Lynn, in which the stories they make up seem to take on a life of their own. But in her other set of memories, there's no trace of Tom Lynn or their friendship. As she regains her full set of memories, Polly begins to realise that this is because of something she has done.
   It's worth mentioning the aspect of the book most likely to make the modern reader feel uncomfortable. When Mr. Lynn meets Polly, he must be at least 19, and she's 10. While the Famous Five might have been able to have perfectly innocent friendships with adult characters, in the era of stranger danger it's impossible not to have at least some misgivings about this kind of relationship. This discomfort is heightened when you consider that in the ballad, Tam Lin's relationship with Janet or Margaret is explicitly sexual, and depending on the version, not always consensual. There's an extent to which this is a feature rather than a bug in the text; Jones makes sure Mr. Lynn's relationship with Polly is not creepy or sexual, but she does hero worship him and develops a crush on him in her teenage years, and her friends, parents and Granny treat Mr. Lynn with understandable suspicion and warn her off him. The book goes to great lengths to show the shades of grey in Mr. Lynn's character that could be glossed over by Polly's adulation of him, which is developed in accord with how the book treats fairies and magic. In the end it does transpire that Mr. Lynn was using Polly to escape from Laurel the fairy queen, however he does try to drive her away in order to protect her, and it turns out that almost all the characters, with the possible exception of Polly's Granny, have been using Polly in some way or other. Indeed, one of the main themes of the book is how children lack agency, and the story is really about how Polly gains agency over her own actions and what she decides to do with that. Nevertheless, exactly how much of that uncomfortableness in the main relationship is intended by the author is hard to say.
   Polly and Mr. Lynn bond through stories, and the stories they share act as a springboard for Jones to explore the main themes of the book. To an extent, 'Fire & Hemlock' is a book about stories and why we tell them; Tom Lynn's curse, in a twist on Thomas the Rhymer's, is not that he can only speak the truth, but rather that all the stories he and Polly make up come true. The mechanism of magic here resembles that in Jo Walton's 'Among Others', a book that is in many ways the spiritual successor to 'Fire & Hemlock', both in the way the Fantastical elements subtly encroach on a realistic coming of age story and in the way it references other books. Jones traces Polly's emotional growth through the books that Mr. Lynn sends her, from fairy tales through to Dumas, Tolkien and beyond, and the books also form a series of clues that allow Polly to realise that Mr. Lynn is owned by the fairies. By the end of the book she is so steeped in fairy tales and how they work that she is able to use this knowledge to save Mr. Lynn from having his life taken to sustain Laurel.
   Polly and Mr. Lynn also exchange stories that they have written, about their fictional exploits as trainee heroes living secret lives in the town of Stow-on-the-Water. These stories basically act as a crash course in literary criticism and writing, as Mr. Lynn encourages Polly to think more deeply about the way she constructs her stories, from avoiding sentimentality and wish fulfillment to encouraging original thought. They also act to foreshadow and symbolise events in the real story. Beyond being clever, the way they encroach on reality is thoughtfully handled. Polly and Mr. Lynn find out that characters Polly had imagined as one-dimensional villains become more pleasant and likable when forced to manifest as an actual person with depth; there is a truth here about Polly's simplistic childish view of the world at the beginning of the novel contrasted to the actual complexity of lived life.
   The stories also tie into the key theme of the novel, heroism. Much of the novel is Polly discovering what it really means to be a hero. From the first stories she makes up when she meets Mr. Lynn, we see that Polly is enamored with the idea of heroism. She imagines a hero as someone who is strong and who fights giants and monsters. In her initial hero worship of Mr. Lynn, she casts him as the hero of her story, with herself as his assistant, although from the beginning Polly has aspirations to heroism, as she describes herself as a learner hero. As she goes through school and her parents' messy breakup, she begins to see being a hero as something she could maybe one day do, and starts training for it physically by joining the boys' football team and setting herself tasks running around everywhere. During this period she beats up the school bully, which makes her into a hero at her school, but she is forced to question the genuineness of her heroism, as she didn't actually do it for heroic reasons. Polly comes to understand that one's reasons for doing things are important, and that violence isn't going to solve all problems. By the end of the book, she has come to understand that her actions have consequences, through making a mistake that could have doomed Mr. Lynn, and discovers that true heroism comes from intelligence and cunning as much as physical strength, and frequently means sacrificing what you want in order to save someone. It is a powerful lesson because it is so hard earned; Jones does not let Polly escape without getting her hands dirty.
   A lot of the charm of 'Fire & Hemlock' stems from how it's told. The story starts off rooted in the mundane, a technique which makes the fantastical elements all the more wondrous and frightening as it slowly encroaches over the course of the book. The story is never rushed, allowing Jones the time to fully explore Polly's character as she develops, with a series of quite charming vignettes about school life and growing up that ring true because of how well grounded all the characters are, from Polly's school friends Nina and Fiona to Laurel the fairy queen and her consorts, Morton Leroy and his snotty son Seb. The book is split into sections named after musical movements, which speed up as the tension increases throughout the novel. Jones manages to make the book compulsively readable and an utter joy, despite going to some pretty dark places. This is not just in the horrifying fairy host gearing up to feed on a human life, but also in its nuanced portrayal of Polly's suffering at the hands of her neglectful parents.
   Much as Mr. Lynn's curse is a twist on Thomas the Rhymer's, Polly frees Mr. Lynn from the clutches of the fairies not by clinging on to him, as Janet or Margaret do in 'Tam Lin', but by letting him go. The ending is ambiguous and open to interpretation, which is unusual in a novel aimed at younger readers. This is how I read it. Because Morton Leroy hurt Mr. Lynn, which is against the rules of the contract, Laurel lets Mr. Lynn and Morton Leroy challenge each other, with the loser forfeiting their life in order to sustain Laurel. Mr. Lynn is allowed to use anything that is truly his, but the catch is that Morton Leroy will be able to use it more powerfully. So in order to save Mr. Lynn's life, Polly has to spurn him, when all she wants is to be able to be part of his life again. Polly's actions save Mr. Lynn and doom Morton Leroy, but she cannot go back on what she's said afterwards or Laurel will be able to claim Mr. Lynn. The book ultimately is about heroic sacrifice, and loving someone enough to let them go. This is foreshadowed by Polly's role in the school play as Pierrot, destined to lose the object of their affections. The clue to the ending is in the magical vases inscribed 'NOW HERE' and 'NOWHERE'. If they are unable to spend the present together, at least they now have the past. Polly's actions have removed the spell Laurel cast, allowing Polly to keep her true memories that include Mr. Lynn, and they will both be able to go on through life knowing that they both have that other person out there who truly, profoundly cares about them, even if they are unable to do anything about it.