A true 3.5 star read - distinctly better than book 1, yet not quite a keeper for me. I picked this one up used in a desert bookstore for $4, and that�A true 3.5 star read - distinctly better than book 1, yet not quite a keeper for me. I picked this one up used in a desert bookstore for $4, and that’s about how much I’m willing to pay to continue this series. Things I like: our hero is starting to see that there are times in which his powerlessness is actually a benefit, and I like the comfortably snarky relationships he has with his friends and allies....more
This is a very silly book, and I spent all 314 pages of it wondering if it was silly-good or just silly-silly. You know exactly what you're in for as This is a very silly book, and I spent all 314 pages of it wondering if it was silly-good or just silly-silly. You know exactly what you're in for as soon as you hear the name of the country estate where the titular murder occurs: Stabmort.
Subtlety is not one of the strengths of A Most Agreeable Murder. Set in Swampshire, England, Regency-ish times, it features a middleclass family with many daughters but no sons and an estate entailed to a distant cousin (sound familiar yet?), which cranks up the pressure on at least one daughter to marry well. It's clearly not going to be Beatrice, the eldest and not the fairest, who harbors a secret and socially inacceptable passion for...solving mysteries? Which comes in handy when dishy bachelor Mr. Croaksworth, well, croaks during a ball.
Meet Beatrice Steele:
Beatrice was transfixed. She had never considered that a genteel person might solve crimes as a hobby. She herself found no satisfaction in the approved hobbies for young women outlined in The Lady's Guide to Swampshire. She was terrible at needlework, had no musical ability, and was banned from drawing because her artwork was so bad it frightened people.
A whole lot of disbelief has to be suspended in the course of reading this book, which makes not even the slightest effort to avoid anachronism. This is less pastiche and more caricature of Jane Austen (plus a bit of Jane Eyre), which I wasn't exactly offended by but found very and often gratingly odd. Beatrice's father likes to play practical jokes on his family, for example, consisting of 'pooting pillows' (whoopee cushions, not invented until 1930; rubber was not vulcanized or widely available until the 1840s), fake rats, buckets of frogs, and fake deaths.
She collided with her father, who squatted by the soup tureen taking something from a bag and placing it in the soup. The effect was swift: the tureen fell over, drenching Captain Pena's uniform. Mr. Steele dropped the bag, and dozens of frogs leapt free. Several ladies screamed, Louisa tripped as she tried to avoid a frog. Daniel politely caught her, and Captain Pena yelled, "Amphibians adrift! Abandon ship!"
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the rhyming. A couple of characters rhyme at inopportune moments. Anyway, if you're familiar with the country house murder, closed house, everyone's a suspect trope, the book soon travels into that well-trodden territory. It's all over-the-top campy, easy enough to read and sometimes fun (if you are English, it's likely the slapstick humor, American Englishisms and general sloppiness might well be maddening). Don't expect historical accuracy or attitudes here. These characters are basically modern people in fancy dress, and they're not very good modern characters at that.
I did like that "Ladies should have extensive knowledge of botany" per The Lady's Guide to Swampshire, and wicked plants play a substantial role in the plot. There's belladonna, though (view spoiler)[nothing is going to cause you to die that fast except maybe cyanide or the fictional but delightful iocane powder, and belladonna poisoning is a long, horrible death that takes days (hide spoiler)], and stinging nettle (why that would be in a lady's greenhouse is beyond me). Unsurprisingly, Julia Seales plays fast and loose with facts, and a 'clue' is the stinging of nettles transferred between gloves and skin. As a cranky botanist, I feel compelled to inform you that when you contact stinging nettle, the hollow modified plant hairs (trichomes) inject a cocktail of nasties like histamine and formic acid just under your skin. It can't spread from contact because there's no mechanism to re-inject it. It's unlike poison oak/ivy in that way; urushiol is an oily substance that most humans are allergic to, and it easily moves from your skin or clothing to others. (Expertise: I routinely come into contact with both and have spent many hours feeling the tingle of stinging nettle up to 24 hours after exposure. Poison oak I have not yet had a reaction to - knock on wood.)
Not great literature or anything, but A Most Agreeable Murder did keep me company through a long and boring car appointment, and I got through it in 2.5 weekdays, so I didn't hate it. I don't think I'll reread or go for a sequel, so let's say 2.5 stars, rounding up....more
DNF, p. 200. Do you like PDA more than pu-erh? Alas, PDA doesn't stand for Pekoe, Darjeeling, and Assam but rather for the constant public displays ofDNF, p. 200. Do you like PDA more than pu-erh? Alas, PDA doesn't stand for Pekoe, Darjeeling, and Assam but rather for the constant public displays of affection in this unfinishable book. I came for the books and tea, but 200 pages in, I find myself wondering if the author has ever in fact had tea before or knows that it comes in more varieties than green, black, and herbal. There is so little tea in here! It's a fantasy, so I was expecting fantastical, creative teas. And books, which are mentioned briefly and then relegated to backdrop, as is the tea.
I was trying to read Can't Spell Treason Without Tea at night as a calming activity before bed, but it was making me a bit angry. I like books and tea, and I was promised a cozy fantasy about a bookshop also serving tea. Instead there is an extremely tedious center stage romance that can't be even temporarily overlooked in favor of other things happening. Lots of telling how they feel about each other (every page). Little showing. Tons of this kind of thing:
A rare gleam overtook Reyna's eyes, and she lowered her voice as she brushed by Kianthe. "Pity. I'm certain I can keep that lecture interesting."
Kianthe grinned. "Is that so?"
"Only if you go back inside and finish what you started."
"Well, now I'd rather finish this." Kianthe whistled, stepping an appraising circle around her girlfriend. There was something spectacular about Reyna's sly smile, the way she flipped her long hair over her shoulder with a graceful twist.
300+ excruciating pages of a romance that was never interesting. I got to the dragons, multiple close brushes with death and main characters, and I kind of wanted someone to die so this book could surprise me for once. (No one dies. Pretty sure.)
tl;dr: Take Legends and Lattes, which I liked primarily for its descriptions of coffee and chocolate, and remove: the great food, the sense of pacing and storytelling, the likable characters, and the overall sense of coziness. Add in two characters who fell in love before the start of the book, think constantly about how much they love each other, flirt/touch/kiss each other in public all the effing time (when they have a room!), and are so fundamentally flat as characters that I'm still trying to remember which one is which at 60% through. No idea what they're like as people or why they're even together.
I'm struggling to say even one nice thing about this book, so one star it is. Review written while drinking a fragrant, mild-mannered cup of Lady Grey with a splash of oatmilk, which you'd think would temper my ire about wasting my time on this book, but alas, no such effect was observed....more
Decent urban fantasy. Absolutely no romance (yay!), and I think I found the storyline about the main character, a druid who had lost most of his powerDecent urban fantasy. Absolutely no romance (yay!), and I think I found the storyline about the main character, a druid who had lost most of his powers before the start of the book, more interesting than the murder mystery. Also, there's a flit (Tinkerbell-like fairy) named...Stinkwort. Lovely. The ending was a bit unintentionally comical, the red herrings are thick and fast, but there was enough that I liked about the main character and the world that I might be willing to read a sequel....more
What, a Becky Chambers in which someone (view spoiler)[dies? (hide spoiler)] And lots of talk of human composting? Be still, my heart. It helped that What, a Becky Chambers in which someone (view spoiler)[dies? (hide spoiler)] And lots of talk of human composting? Be still, my heart. It helped that I was getting over the flu when I read this, and I only rolled my eyes at Chambers's indefatigable optimism about the future of humans a few times....more
Absolutely bonkers, but you know it’s good alt-history when you prefer the alternate version to what really happened. Our hero is Sir Richard Burton (Absolutely bonkers, but you know it’s good alt-history when you prefer the alternate version to what really happened. Our hero is Sir Richard Burton (yes, that one), who is facing a crisis in his career as an explorer and unexpectedly is offered a position as the king’s agent. His first task is to investigate two mysteries: the reports of wolf-men in a seedy London district, and the legend of bogeyman Spring-Heeled Jack, whom Burton has a very peculiar run-in with at the start of the story.
Oh yes, and he works for King Albert because Victoria was assassinated at age 20, derailing the course of technology and industrialization. From this arose a group of Eugenicists, who bred useful but flawed animals (such as messenger parakeets that are unavoidably foul-mouthed and pepper all messages with insults), the Rakes and Libertines, and the Technologists.
This is certainly a book best gone into knowing very little, and for most of the proceedings, I had no idea where the story was headed. I knew a little about the legend of Spring-Heeled Jack, something of the literature, natural history, and art of the time: just enough to thoroughly enjoy what Mark Hodder changes about it. Not only is Algernon Swinburne a major character, but there are also nods to Darwin, the Pre-Raphaelites, Gustavo Dore, and others. The story goes thoroughly off the rails about halfway through, and I didn’t mind a bit.
Surprisingly, I also didn’t mind that this book thoroughly fails the Bechdel test, and women are mostly minor characters who are seen through the male gaze. It might be a flaw, but it’s one I’m willing to live with for the whipsmart plotting and pulpy action. I’m delighted as a latecomer to see many more volumes in this series. ...more
Let's say you're trying to wake someone up who is snoring. Do you: a) Shake their shoulder b) Put your fingers down their shirt c) Nudge theiDNF - p. 348
Let's say you're trying to wake someone up who is snoring. Do you: a) Shake their shoulder b) Put your fingers down their shirt c) Nudge their knee
Ding, ding, ding! The correct answer is, of course, b, at least according to this author who cannot resist an opportunity for more smoldering contact between our two romantic leads.
"I was only trying to wake you. To make you stop snoring." She wriggled again, her body tensing beneath Merik's - a sign her temper was rising. If Merik didn't move soon, her legs would weave between his, her fingers would claw, and her eyes would burn in a way that would make resistance of his rage - of his magic - impossible.
This was the final straw for me. I quit out of vicarious embarrassment for Susan Dennard, whose remaining canon will remain untouched by me. Truthwitch is decidedly not for me, from the generic fantasy world building to the egregious use of italics, the awkward attempts to build romantic tension to the stereotypical characters. I'm trying to think of anything I liked in here, and maybe the same sex friendships are kind of okay, though they're a lot more tell than show.
Main character Safiya is a Truthwitch (yes, all of these things get capitalized), a rare talent that allows her to tell when someone is lying. Because of her value to any political ruler and despite being aristocracy, she's been slumming it, her talents hidden from the world. Her Threadsister, who previously saved her life, is Iseult, one of the shunned nomadic Nomatsi people, a Threadwitch, who is able to see the emotions of the people around her.
There are also: Voidwitches, Bloodwitches, Tidewitches, Earthwitches, Soilwitches...in fact, you can substitute almost any noun commonly found in the title of YA fantasy and make that a witch. Why not Mistwitches, Thornwitches, Cursewitches, Stormwitches, Rosewitches, Nightwitches? There seems to be nothing that limits which witchy powers are possible in this book as long as they are convenient, which also means that there is no coherent system of magic.
For all the details, this world comes across as artificial and confusing rather than immersive. That's nice that the shunned nomads have pale skin, but why are they shunned? Why is there a watery Venaza City that bears close resemblance to Venice? Why can't we go to new places instead of rehashing tired fantasy versions of real ones?
Susan Dennard also has this extremely irritating habit of italicizing verbs. E.g. "The first mate was dragging to Merik's side and heaving his witchery outward." And "any blighted monk who dared get near his passenger," and people scream and topple. IMO: if you need that much emphasis on your verbs, you need better verbs.
Of course I hated the romance, which struck me as both underbaked and unnecessary, and having quit 50 pages before the end, I clearly don't care where the plot is going. No more Susan Dennard for me....more
Was expecting fairies and forests, not sisterly relationships, rural living, and financially strained farms. DNF before 100 pages because I don't careWas expecting fairies and forests, not sisterly relationships, rural living, and financially strained farms. DNF before 100 pages because I don't care. ...more
My second book by Brandon Sanderson, and likely my last. His writing is competent, but he doesn't write stories I'm interested in reading. This is pulMy second book by Brandon Sanderson, and likely my last. His writing is competent, but he doesn't write stories I'm interested in reading. This is pulpy fantasy with an interesting concept - sudden transformation into what used to be exalted beings and are now essentially zombies in a dying city. What happened to Elantris? It'll take Sanderson 500 pages to tell you.
You remember that thing about early 2000s fantasy that featured alternating perspectives, at least some of which came from obviously villainous and unsympathetic people? Yes. Those chapters I still find intensely boring. The same goes for cultures that bear some resemblance to real non-western ones and are portrayed as the Other. The two protagonists are a perfect Gary Stu / Mary Sue pair. They are steadfastly, flawlessly good; beacons of light in an otherwise sinister place, uniters of opposing forces who work tirelessly for the good of their people.
Also, "There are fungi and molds that live on light" is a factually incorrect statement. All fungi are heterotrophs that do not photosynthesize. The closest they come is when they shack up with an alga or cyanobacterium as lichen. I thought that was widely known? Magic fungi that photosynthesize is possibly the most fantastical idea in here.
No, thank you. I'll take a good misanthrope with a man-eating dinosaur story any day over this. I found Elantris excessively long, conventionally imagined, and with grating and pointless bits of fat-shaming. ...more
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