I've put off writing about this book because it is one of my favorites I've read this year, and it's not even out yet. It is so good I'm intimidated just writing about it, in case I don't do it justice. It has many of my favorite tropes: country girl in the city, lost heirs, intricate politics, queer epic love, a past and future that stretch beyond the timeline of the book but influence its events. A really awesome set of gods and goddesses who are uncanny--that is, not simply humans with extra powers, but actually fundamentally alien, though they seem all too human at times. Difficult metaphysics, high stakes, (almost) nobody is purely good or purely evil. Stunning visual descriptions. Plot twists so intense and so frequent it's like riding a giddy whirlwind to read. One of the best parts is that Yeine is a protagonist whose voice isn't just that of an American transplanted to a fantasy land, but whose thought patterns and metaphors unapologetically reflect her heritage, a culture which we only see a few glimpses of outright but which is rich and layers and affects her decisions and perspectives throughout the book. It's got sharp, often violent action that lends urgency to every moment we see.

The writing is tight and often luminescent--there are a few phrases and passages that made me gasp in appreciation of the craft. It's difficult to pull this kind of book off well--to leave enough hints about the many mysteries that are unfolding without revealing the twists too soon. Conversely, you don't want to give too little information, or the reader will check out. I felt like each twist was doled out at just the right time, and I continued to be surprised and delighted as each new piece of the story revealed hidden emotional or political depths. The plot is beautifully constructed through taut, lean prose. The first person narration is engaging and the character's voice is capable of sustaining it throughout, with tension between the story-as-told and the speaker's moments of mad self-doubt. It's riveting storytelling.

It's a truly remarkable book, and I eagerly await the sequel. We get a couple of pages of it as a teaser at the end of the ARC, and just from that it's obvious that the series will address the few issues I had with this first installment--namely, that it focuses primarily on the concerns of the rich and powerful, despite its protagonist of 'barbaric' roots.

I highly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys original, character-driven fantasy that doesn't pull its punches. It comes out in February--you can pre-order yours through your local independent bookstore! If you're not sure where yours is, have a look on Indiebound.

Anyhow, for a wannabe librarian I'm not excessively organized about my books. I actually group them by size (where will they fit?) and loosely by genre, but really it's by emotional impressions and relational reasons in my head. I'm an intuitive book owner, and my system is not exact.

So, I sat down to my computer after finishing up, and looked over at the bookshelf by my desk. The bookshelf itself was my grandmother's, and it's my favorite one (I even love it more than I love my bookshelf-bed). So all my favorite books or genres of one kind or another are on here, as well as most of my nonfiction and theory because hey, you never know when you'll want to consult Simians, Cyborgs and Women or Sister Outsider. (ETA: And actually, I swear to god, not one week after posting this I actually DID have a conversation with a friend in which I leaned over and looked at Haraway. Trufax, I am not joking.) Also the books I need for school are here so they're handy when I go to do my assignments.

Anyhow, I realized that my bookshelf is predominately full of female authors. I had a hunch about that, and leaned over and counted them--out of 127 books, only about 20 are by men, and about half of those are Chip Delany. A handful are by trans people. HM. Of course, I have tons more books elsewhere in the house that are by white straight men, don't worry.

It feels good to have all the books back in my life!

I had an angsty wallow last night about writing anxiety. I've been having a lot of anxiety about writing of all kinds lately--homework assignments to emails to blog posts to fiction to feedbacking to book reviews to comments to tweets, all of it. I am trying to be compassionate to myself, but I'm really struggling with that because I don't think I'm as good a writer as I want to be, and so much of my personal and professional interests are tightly bound up in writing and reading, so much so that I think writing is an integral aspect of my identity. If I can't see myself as a writer, what am I? These are the sort of existential questions that keep me up until 2am flicking mournfully through my WIP folder.

In other news, hey, did you know that women and gays are apparently ruining Sci Fi for the rest of us them? Seriously, these dudes are so privileged it goes beyond offensive right into hilarious.