The Bell at Sealey Head, Patricia A. McKillip

Sealey Head is a small town, perched above a harbour, where people mostly go about their everyday lives — managing an inn, running a business, selling their wares — with the main magic being in the stories written by Gwyneth and the books read by Judd, childhood friends who have become somewhat estranged as they grew up and had more responsibilities. The strange thing, though it’s now so normal that inhabitants of the town think of it entirely normal, is that every day a mysterious bell sounds. They have no idea where the sound comes from or when it began, though there are a cluster of stories and assumptions around it.

In the big house owned by a local aristocrat, a servant called Emma knows magic does exist, because every so often, she opens a door in the house and sees another world, and a woman she’s never met in this world. Princess Isabo lives a life strictly confined by ritual: light this candle, move this sword, fill the goblets of certain men but not others… and don’t ask questions.

Into that world comes a scholar, Ridley Drow, to shake everything up and make people confront the magic in their midst. It feels like such a typical story for McKillip: it has all her hallmarks in the handling, in the love of books, in the way the magic is handled, in the prose, in the way people relate to each other. So if you enjoy McKillip’s work, you’ll probably enjoy this as well: I certainly did, from the shy reconnection between Gwyneth and Judd to the chattering good-heartedness of Daria Sproule to the daring of Princess Isabo, finally asking questions and breaking the ritual routine.

It all builds up very nicely, but the denouement stumbled a little, for me. After all the build-up, knowing there’s danger and that their friends are in trouble, Gwyneth and Judd rush to Aislinn House to help… only to be thwarted by the fact that no one can open a way into Isabo’s world. Instead of doing anything, they settle down to wait… and the climax of the story happens entirely without them. It feels like all the characters build towards that, but only Ridley and Isabo actually get to see it. It feels odd that they’re left out of the main plot, even though Gwyneth and Judd’s stories are completed in other personal ways.

Also, there are some things I just… missed somehow in the climax of the book — some things seemed to come out of nowhere for me. I didn’t have a clue about the significance of the boat, for instance — or rather, I did realise it was significant, but the reason for its significance just didn’t seem to have been telegraphed at all, to the point where it felt like a deus ex machina. This isn’t a first for me with McKillip’s writing, and sometimes it’s possible she’s just being too subtle for me.

Overall, despite those quibbles, I enjoyed the book a lot, and McKillip’s writing is gorgeous. It’s a great read all the same.

Rating: 4/5

Harrowing the Dragon, Patricia A. McKillip

As you might expect from Patricia McKillip, this is a lovely collection — some of the stories are just beautiful, and her writing always is. ‘The Harrowing of the Dragon of Hoarsbreath’ is a strong point, as you’d expect from the fact that the collection is named after it, and I enjoyed ‘A Matter of Music’, ‘The Stranger’ and ‘Lady of the Skulls’, too.

The lighter, more humorous ones like ‘A Troll and Two Roses’ and ‘Baba Yaga and the Sorcerer’s Son’ are still well written, but the tone doesn’t work for me. Mostly, it just doesn’t fit with the dream-like prose-poetry I expect from McKillip (and which she delivers, even with the lighter stories).

It’s a nice collection, but not a favourite by any means. It’s one of those I’ll keep because I enjoy the way McKillip writes rather than because I particularly want to revisit most of the stories. This sounds like faint praise, but McKillip’s writing really is beautiful.

Rating: 4/5

In the Forests of Serre, Patricia A. McKillip

This isn’t quite a retelling, but there are elements which look very like Baba Yaga, Ivan and the Firebird, and other such folk and fairytales. That said, it’s very much a book of its own which uses the magic of those fairytale elements to reflect on love and grief, and on struggles with oneself. The prose is lyrically beautifully as always, but less opaque than in some of McKillip’s other books — it seemed perfectly clear what everything meant, except perhaps on the point of Unciel and Gyre’s struggles.

It’s also very full of people, real people whose troubles you can feel: a princess who doesn’t want to marry someone she doesn’t know, but goes in the end because otherwise it would spell disaster for her family — but she’s still scared; a prince who doesn’t want to get over the death of his wife and unborn child; a queen trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who might as well be an ogre, but nonetheless loves her son and serves the kingdom… a scribe who wishes briefly to ride off to save a princess, but in the end stays and does his job, and nurses an old wizard. They all have conflicts and fears you can relate to, and their desires are understandable despite the magic around them. Even Gyre’s desire for power makes sense.

There’s some lovely lines, especially regarding the firebird, though the bit I liked best was when Ronan and Sidonie are together near the end of the book, and she’s drawn to him for protection. It just… rang true. And the parts with Unciel and Euan have a lovely quietness at times — it reminds me of some of the moments in Earthsea of just appreciating the world as it is.

I enjoyed this one a lot, and read it very fast; I think it might be one of my favourites so far.

Rating: 5/5

The Book of Atrix Wolfe, Patricia A. McKillip

I don’t know why this book didn’t work that well for me; it’s very much what you’d expect from McKillip, magical and otherworldly and dreamy, written in her usual meandering, allusive, dense style. I just… didn’t really get into it that much, or follow the chains of events. I often have that problem with McKillip’s work, to be fair, so this is probably a very individual criticism; people who enjoy her style effortlessly will probably enjoy this just as much as any of her other books.

For me, though… the story is compelling, and the style is pretty amazing — the way she depicts Saro’s thoughts, despite the fact that Saro doesn’t know how to speak, how to articulate in language, sticking close to what Saro is actually thinking/experiencing, for example. But other than that, I didn’t really get invested with the story, the characters; I felt oddly fatalistic about it. My attitude was pretty much ‘what will happen will happen’, rather than worrying about what might happen or trying to guess it, or even having any strong feeling about what would be a good or bad turn for the story.

The problem is probably exacerbated by the fact that I’m writing this review quite a while after reading. But it definitely wasn’t one of my favourite McKillip books; it was just too surreal, dreamy, disconnected, despite the quality of the writing.

Rating: 2/5

Solstice Wood, Patricia A. McKillip

Solstice Wood is a loose sequel to Winter Rose, set a few generations later in the same place. That gives it a really weird feel, because it’s very much rooted in place and time, while Winter Rose could be almost anywhere, anywhen. I don’t really remember the same concrete sense of place about Winter Rose at all; perhaps because half of it was spent in the other world, but still. That felt untethered in time, and this really isn’t — planes, phones, worrying about reception. It feels realistic, and that’s odd compared to the narrator of Winter Rose and her unconcern for the barriers between what’s real and what isn’t.

Oddly enough, although I understood it better, I think I liked it less than Winter Rose. Some of the beauty and mystery was missing — which in a way was part of the point, but still. And the main character’s grandmother is just stunningly unable to see what’s going on under her nose for someone who is meant to be stubborn and shrewd. Love blinds us all, I guess, but it still felt odd.

The fae stuff in this book is perhaps more attractive than in Winter Rose, though; we get to see the gentler side, the enticing side, and more nuance. Still, I’m not greatly enamoured.

Rating: 3/5

Winter Rose, Patricia A. McKillip

I’ve actually reviewed this here before, and in fact read it twice before. I wanted to give it another go, because I’ve been reading a couple of other Tam Lin based stories (The Perilous Gard; An Earthly Knight; just starting Pamela Dean’s Tam Lin) and because I want to read the sequel to this, Solstice Wood. And because I’m stubborn as heck and I didn’t ‘get it’, and I don’t like that feeling.

Well, I still didn’t really ‘get’ it, though I was more content to go with the dreamlike logic and just enjoy the lyrical writing and the scent-touch-taste of the way McKillip writes. It still reminds me of ‘Goblin Market’ as much as ‘Tam Lin’, given the inclusion of the character of Laurel, who wastes away waiting for Tam Lin. There’s so much to love in this book — the way Perrin is portrayed, solid and real and true; Laurel and Rois’ love for each other and their father, and his for them; the beautiful, beautiful writing.

But I still don’t get it. I feel like I should be rating it more highly, liking it better, and obviously there’s something that keeps me trying to come back to it. But nope. Still not the right time, perhaps?

Rating: 3/5

Song for the Basilisk, Patricia A. McKillip

I’ve mentioned before that I had a somewhat difficult time getting into Patricia McKillip’s books, and Song for the Basilisk is definitely one of the more difficult ones, in my opinion. I wouldn’t suggest starting with it. It contains many characteristics that the other books share — Ombria in Shadow, the tyrant ruling the city; The Bards of Bone Plain, the bards of Luly; the lyrical, reflective prose. I have to be in the right mood to read McKillip’s books, I think: The Changeling Sea was the gateway for me, where I really learnt to appreciate her work.

Song for the Basilisk is rather more abstruse than that one, though it is — as you might expect if you like McKillip’s work — beautiful and entirely worth spending the time with, at least by my lights. Somebody wrote a review which makes a comparison between this and Guy Gavriel Kay’s Tigana, and that’s apt: there are similar themes and even images. I disagree that Song for the Basilisk goes deeper than Tigana, though: they’re different in that in Basilisk the vendetta is more targeted and personal, against a single family, rather than erasing the culture and identity of a whole people. Your response may vary depending on personal taste and experience, but for me the denial of Tigana as a wellspring for identity hits pretty hard — harder than “tyrant hated powerful family because power”, which is more what I got from Basilisk.

Some things about this book I was unsure about: I’m used to feeling some ambivalence about McKillip’s characters, but Luna Pellior threw me for a loop. I was sort of expecting the ending, but I find it difficult to connect the dots. There’s a kind of opaqueness about the book, about Luna, that made it difficult to see things from her perspective — or anyone’s. I felt like more of an observer than a participant.

If you already know what you’re getting into with McKillip’s work, I don’t think this will disappoint. It wouldn’t be my choice of starting point, though.

Rating: 4/5

Moon-Flash, Patricia McKillip

Apparently Moon-Flash actually has a sequel, but I’m not that interested in it. It’s interesting — probably a novella in length, and written with McKillip’s usual lyricism and style — but I felt it was whole enough in itself, and I’m not interested enough in the world or characters to keep following it. Their trip down the river leads to an almost inevitable conclusion, but the story manages to say something about myth and belief, about the way different cultures interpret things, about relationships between cultures. It’s a little Ursula Le Guin-ish, in that sense, now that I think about it: I could picture her writing a very similar story.

It’s actually not as fantastical as the other works by McKillip I’ve read before, so that makes it interesting too in comparison to the magic of her other work. At the same time, that’s here too, under the surface, in the myth-making.

Rating: 3/5