Signal to Noise, Sylvia Moreno-Garcia

Someone in my book club in Cardiff mentioned Signal to Noise to me with some enthusiasm, and I’d already looked at it speculatively a few times, so I was quite eager to give it a go. Music and magic being linked is hardly a revolutionary idea for me: Orpheus, the enchantment of a good song, the Pied Piper… But this uses music like Bowie and Nina Simone; songs like ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’. Popular music, recent music. It’s an accessible sort of magic, and the perfect kind of magic for a teenager to use.

The characters are very teenage: a mismatched group who don’t get along with other people so well, at least as teens; who grow apart, as adults, so that the first moment of recognition is a strange one. The pushy prickly leader and the gentle follower, the bond between a boy and a girl of understanding, of seeing a future… The teenage versions of the characters definitely work well, though as adults there’s still something so teenage about them — or at least about Meche, Mercedes, the main character.

The two plots run parallel: Meche, Daniela and Sebastian as teens, casting spells using vinyl, and then the same characters as adults, grown far apart — wrenched far apart, it turns out, by what happened when they were teens. That plot is kind of interesting, though I didn’t really feel Meche’s power trip. It got way too menacing too fast, and after that I couldn’t understand Sebastian and Daniela still wanting to be anywhere near Meche. Sure, the spells she wanted to cast were understandable — but also manipulative, and in one case, really dangerous. It doesn’t feel like Meche deserves Daniela and Sebastian’s patience and forgiveness, however close Sebastian and Meche were before.

I found it an overall entertaining story, but not as great as I’d hoped. I liked the fact that it was set in Mexico City, and the little flavours of food and stories which reminded you, every now and again, where the characters were and what shaped and constrained their lives — those subtle differences from the typical American teenagers. It’s not a hugely marked thing, though, now I think about it in retrospect — the story could be the same without the setting, I think.

Rating: 3/5

Dreamsnake, Vonda N. McIntyre

Received to review via Netgalley

It’s been quite a while since I read this, and I remembered it fondly enough, so when it came up on Netgalley, I decided to request it and do a reread. I only gave it three stars the first time, which surprised me when I looked it up and saw the raft of awards it got: Nebula, Hugo, Tiptree nomination, National Book Award finalist… I remembered it being quite like The Steerswoman in the narrative style, in the capable heroine; I remembered that the background of the story including queer and polyamorous characters in a casual, natural way — as well as plenty of capable women who knew what they were doing, who talked to each other (about things other than men!), who worked together.

Happily, all of that is still there, especially Snake’s care for others: for Melissa, and also for Gabriel, for Arevin, for the people she treats as a healer. Even for her snakes, though that’s not so surprising given that her livelihood relies upon them. And there are some quite lovely tender moments between Snake and the people she helps and becomes friends with.

The background of the story is fascinating too, and I don’t seem to have thought much about it before. It’s basically Earth, post-apocalypse, but exactly what that apocalypse was and how the aliens might have been involved, or even how long ago it was, are all shrouded and mysterious. And that background just lies behind the story, mostly not even used except in little bits — like the solution to breeding dreamsnakes. And there’s the whole issue of the healers using snake venom, how and why they would have begun that, how it all works. There’s room for half a dozen other stories here, though the one we’re told is a fairly straightforward redemption/quest story.

It’s still not quite a five star read for me: there’s something rather detached about it, emotionally, despite the tender moments. Sometimes the background feels a little too much like painted scenery. But for the most part, it was enjoyable to revisit Dreamsnake, and worth the time.

Rating: 4/5

The Girl from Everywhere, Heidi Heilig

Received to review via Netgalley

I’d heard a little buzz around this book on Twitter, but didn’t know anything about it. Since it was ‘read now’ on Netgalley, and the blurb sounded interesting enough, I picked it up. It turned out to be a pretty quick read — I was surprised to find that it’s actually over 400 pages long — and there’s a lot of intriguing content. The whole concept of Navigating, and the limitations of it; the mythical aspects, especially those surrounding Honolulu; the interplay between the characters, particularly the bond between Nix and Kash.

I am less interested in the love triangle the story plays with; Blake’s regard for Nix rang true enough, but her attraction to him just didn’t seem to measure up against the bond with Kash. Particularly since Kash is charming, confident, knows Nix and has history with her, and says some very sweet things. I thought the flirtation with Blake was a dead end, but the way the ending brings all three together again makes me think it’s more of a love triangle than I originally thought.

Still, even if you find love triangles annoying, there might be enough here to sell you on the book anyway. The idea of being able to sail to anywhere you have a map of and believe in is pretty enchanting, and life aboard ship sounds kind of fun. There could’ve been more by way of development of the other characters — now that I try to think about them, only Slate, Nix and Kash really feel fleshed out, and I’d have especially liked to see more about Bee and her wife.

The ending is definitely open for more books, though I don’t know anything about the plans (series, trilogy, etc) or where exactly it’s going to go, but I’m intrigued enough that I’ll look out for more by Heidi Heilig.

Rating: 4/5

City of Stairs, Robert Jackson Bennett

I’m sorry it took me so long to get round to City of Stairs, because it turns out that the buzz on Twitter and the recommendations from other bloggers were absolutely right. It’s maintaining a high rating on Goodreads (4.20, with 8,000 ish reviews, at the time of writing), and for good reason. It’s really awesome. Now, if I’m honest, it did take some time to settle down, and to figure out who was going to be the protagonist. There’s a lot to learn about the world: the dos and don’ts, the past, the present, who and what we’re rooting for… Some details only become apparent as the book goes through its twists and turns. Some obvious things are avoided: loyalties can be mixed, long-held understandings overturned.

It’s a mystery/spy novel set in a fantasy world, essentially, and it does a great job of both. I’ve seen reviews which complain that mysteries in a fantastical setting don’t work, because mysteries rely upon rules, and fantasy inherently breaks rules. To me, that seems to rely overly much on the Golden Age idea that a mystery story is a game, which the reader must be able to solve — like Knox’s Ten Commandments, of which the second is: “All supernatural or preternatural agencies are ruled out as a matter of course.”

But even some Golden Age crime fiction satisfyingly flouted those laws — Agatha Christie bent the rules significantly with The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, for example — and there’s no reason we have to stick to it. Fantasy often lets us see familiar things anew: I don’t see why not mystery, espionage, politics, bureaucracy… all of which play a part in City of Stairs. And if the commentary on empire still stings and conjures up spectres and parallels, as it seems to, well, it should.

Which is not saying very much about the book. Once I was into it, it was a page turner: I wanted to know, needed to know. Once the focus became clear, so did the characters: Shara, Sigrud, Mulaghesh… with their flaws, their pasts, their hopes for the future. Shara, particularly, with her knowledge of the past, with her interest in it, paired with a duty to suppress any recognition of it. Granted, at times her knowledge is very encyclopaedically convenient, but I do suspect that if she were a male character, people wouldn’t be complaining of that. She doesn’t always make the right decisions: she just makes some pretty good ones, based on her experience and knowledge.

Imagine a story about a surgeon. A good surgeon: one of the best. High in his profession. He completes a surgery without a mistake, even though something unexpected crops up, because he has the skill and experience. Or a librarian, with experience of his work, immediately nodding and turning to lay his hand on the right book when the plot requires. Is he a “Gary Stu”? An impossibility? Nope, we just believe that his background supports his actions in the story. We would probably call him “confident” and “capable”. I wonder how we’d react to a female surgeon… except I don’t really need to: we have the equivalent in Shara. She’s confident and capable, but people read it as arrogance, as being spoilt and having everything handed to her due to favouritism. (There’s a moment in the book that hangs a lampshade on that, really.)

The story tells you she’s good, and then she shows us it, and… people don’t want to believe it because she’s a woman? Ugh.

I love the background to the world, too: the history, the rules of the way the gods work and the intertwined nature of their relationship with their adherents. I’m excited to read City of Blades, though I don’t know anything yet about where it’s set, or even what the blurb says. I’m happy just to plunge straight into it on the strength of City of Stairs.

Rating: 5/5