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One of the unexpected side effects of the acceptance of gay/lesbian/bi/trans relationships has been that it is no longer remarkable to find a gay character in a novel.  

Except, how did I miss this one? The main character is a lesbian, in the process of coming out!

I know I'd pigeon-holed this in my mind as just another urban fantasy, but it exceeded expectations. The story is fast paced, but not shallow. Sarah Beauhall is a journeyman smith, and prickly - at best - at her night job as a prop manager for a small movie production company. Between the two jobs, she struggles to keep a roof over her head, and her car on the road.   For fun, she practices battle with a S(ociety for)C(reative)A(nachonism) group headed by her lover's brother.  

When Sarah reforges a mythic sword, she becomes the focus of a battle between good and evil. The events that follow - and her own stubbornness - threaten to estrange her lover, end both of her jobs, destroy a forge, and finally menace the lives of every person she loves. Yet she makes decisions in this epic struggle with the quotidian considerations foremost, as so many of us do. (Or would, if you reforged a magic sword. Admit it.)   

There's more than a bit of wish fulfillment here, but it's so deftly done that it almost got past me. (You'll see it when you read it.)   There are also plenty of real-world consequences.

J. A. Pitts - male, and I think heterosexual, eschews the prony male gaze on women having sex to write realistic and tasteful love scenes. The one heterosexual sex scene, on the other hand, seemed gratuitously violent. More important to me personally, he gives a pitch-perfect rendition of the internal conflict inherent in coming out – a reminder that difficulty in saying “I am” and "I would like” can be universal to the species.


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I really hate writing negative reviews.

Embers has an enormously inventive universe, based in decaying urban Detroit, a well-plotted storyline, and an engaging heroine. I really wanted to love this first work from Laura Bickle. Ultimately, though, it’s a disappointment.
Anya, a twenty-something arson investigator and full-time medium, bears pervasive guilt that as a child, she caused the fire that killed her mother. Like the guilt, she wears her mother’s legacy – the copper collar that is home to her familiar, a fire spirit named, (pun warning) Sparky. Invisible to most, Sparky is equal parts pet, dangerous annoyance, and unwanted chaperone.
As the story opens, Anya is trying to extricate herself from a psychic investigation team. But as a “Lantern”, a psychic that devours ghosts, she may be irreplaceable. She’s been called in to subdue a malignant haunting - a demon - but the aftermath leaves her injured and puts a colleague that might be a love interest in the hospital.
Work isn’t any less complicated. The serial arsonist she’s investigating moves from mere property damage to murder as the city prepares for the chaos of Devil’s Night, and she’s assigned to a team with a pompous, hostile police detective. She tracks down her suspect, another Lantern, through magic and diligent investigation. But magic isn’t a reality to her co-workers.   Despite what the Lantern reveals to her about his plans to revive an ancient fire deity, the police let him go. Anya is forced off the team, and turns to her friends to investigate and stop the suspect’s plot.
Anya is a fully realized character, and Bickle does an excellent job on the emotional conflict Anya feels when faced with the villain, a man who would be, in almost all ways, her perfect lover. She does less well with her secondary characters, especially the purported love interest.
Worse, the text was chock full of clunky, illogical sentences that dropped me right out of the story.
Mind you, I’m not any kind of snob about writing. My tolerance for typos grew from a misspent youth devouring poorly edited paperbacks. Story –the characters - are far more important than arcane rules of grammar. After all, Stephen King and Laurell K. Hamilton, both of whom can bludgeon a riveting story with questionable prose, are New York Times bestsellers.
Ms. Bickle hasn’t made it there yet. I knew I was in trouble on the first page, when the description of a haunted house left me confused. “Cables from the beat-up panel van parked curbside snaked under the front door, but no light shined inside.” (P1) Where didn’t the light shine? In the house, the van, the cables or the front door? 
Could be that I’m too picky.  I read on, brushing aside similar issues as the plot absorbed me. 
But then, describing a church service for a murdered fireman’s funeral at which Anya is seated far away from the altar: “The archbishop, a small man in a blindingly white robe and stole, seemed to blend in with the limestone interior, cut as sharply as the stone.” (P146)  Eh? Blinding and blended don’t go together. I get the intent, but it took a moment.
Each of the many sentences and paragraphs that failed to make sense distanced me more and more from the story. 
But this, for me, shredded any remaining credibility: “He picked her up, setting her on the edge of the table. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his tongue thrusting in her mouth and his desire pressing against her belly.” (P292)
I couldn’t tell Anya that men’s “desires” don’t spring from above their waist. But I wished I could.  
The climax of the story almost redeemed it, even if replete with romance tropes. I’d read more of this author’s work, and more about this character, but I sincerely hope that the next book gets a better edit.

 

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This is the book that triggered my interest in Ancient Egypt, when I was 10 or 11*. (I eventually learned much history and how to read hieroglyphics, a skill that's rusted from disuse.) I knew the book existed, I remembered reading it but not the title or author, or enough of the plot to go looking for it. Luckily, it was mentioned in a book discussion in C. J. Cherryh's Wave Without A Shore website, allowing me to find and re-read it.

Set during the reign of Hatshepsut, the Pharoah Queen, Mara is a beautiful, willful, blue-eyed(!) slave who can speak Babylonian in addition to her native Egyptian. This skill leads to her purchase by an agent of the Queen for a job that may lead to her freedom. Mara is to serve as the interpreter to a Babylonian wife chosen by Hatshepsut for her half-brother, Thutmose, while also serving as a spy to discover who is providing communication and support – and how - for Thutmose’s plan to overthrow Hatshepsut. En route to this assignment, Mara meets the compelling young noble Sheftu , and is caught precipitously in the role of double agent, serving both the Pharoah and her brother. 

Romance, danger, misunderstandings and high drama ensue. I can’t discuss the plot in any detail without spoilers, but stalwart Sheftu undertakes a massively dangerous errand to bankroll Thutmose’s rebellion, leading to the revelation of Mara’s double role. 

Sometimes returning to the books of your childhood can be dangerous. The first thing that struck me was the casual misogyny and stereotyped roles of the three major female characters. Of course Hatshepsut isn’t fit to be Pharoah – she’s a woman, it offends the gods. Not only that, she spends too much money and wages too few wars. There’s disproportionate emphasis on physical beauty. The Babylonian princess is fat and therefore disgusting, redeemed only by her cleverness in the last few chapters.  The women are all schemers – conniving being presented as an integral part of the female psyche.   Classism and racism are rampant too, of course.

The second issue is how fast and loose McGraw played with the actual history.  Hatshepsut was not overthrown;  her rule made important military, economic and diplomatic contributions to Egypt. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hatshepsut

The final surprise was the prominence of the romantic storyline.   I’m all admiration for how smoothly McGraw pulled me into the drama of the romance; the dance of do they/don’t they as the story unfolds and Mara must choose her very dangerous path.

This is a simplistic but not unsophisticated quick read.   It is a YA, but with some fairly adult overtones. Definitely worth reading. 

*I was pretty precocious.   What I also found sort of disturbing, as an adult, is how the penutimate chapters hit every one of my kinks - narrative and otherwise.  I hadn't realized I was aware of this so young - but it does explain the sort of half-longing half embarassed yearning I had to find this book again. 
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The first book in Susan R. Matthews' [I]Under Jurisdiction[/I] series. Not light reading or for the faint of heart, but really really worth the read. An raw exploration of themes, (some of which are similar to those CJ Cherryh explored in Cyteen/Regenesis, such as institutionalized/governmentally controlled slavery).
In an interstellar government where torture and slavery is institutionalized as a part of the justice system, and racism is rampant, a young doctor is pressed into service as a torturer. To his horror, he discovers that he enjoys the work. Yet he strictly follows the legal boundaries of his mandate, and assiduously protects his slave security, exposing him to political and personal danger.
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Fancher’s writing style is light-hearted and -handed, using humor to overlay but not obscure the (sometimes dark) thoughts and emotions of complex, well-drawn characters. The style reminds me tangentially of Lois McMaster Bujold, but with more profound themes and deeper characters. Fancher’s world building is wonderfully detailed, and she’s taken that staple of fantasy, the magical ley, and used it in an original, nearly science-fictional way.
For those who missed the first three books (Ring of Lightning, Ring of Intrigue, and Ring of Destiny), go now. They’re available at Closed Circle Publishing , a non-DRM ebook publishing “house” run by Fancher, C. J. Cherryh and Lynn Abbey, (including backlist and new fiction by all three authors). http://www.closed-circle.net/WhereIts...
After a fast-moving opening scene illustrating one of the book’s central conflicts, Fancher uses a hilarious wedding play to fully reintroduce her characters from the previous Ring books, and fill in the backstory.
The titular Alizant is an adoptee into the powerful Rhomandi family. He’s uncomfortable with his new family and social status, and fears that his new family's love and approval is conditional. At the same time, he has powers and skills of his own. The outcome of his experimentation may shake the foundations of Rhomatum society. At the same time Rhomatum is being threatened by Mauritum, a neighboring state, in the person of the mysterious priest Ardiin.
The brothers (and their partners) aren’t ignored by any means. Dancer's relationship with middle brother Mikhyel proves as problematic as ever, with quite a bit of character growth in a relatively small amount of time "onstage". Nikki, the youngest brother, has discovered responsibility in a big way. Yet none of this growth leads quite where one would expect. The ending, a cliffhanger without the broken fingernails, leaves many plot threads in question.
My measure of a really good book is that when I'm through with it, I think of the characters as people. Even better, as people I *know*. [Not in a psychotic way, just - they "live" after I've closed the book (or in this case, the file).] This definitely hit the mark.
(Cross posted from my LibraryThing.)

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