"Originally reviewed @ Angieville

I'm feeling very possessive when it comes to this one, guys. I finished it a few days ago, and it has been a bit touch and go emotionally since then. You try to find other characters and other places to fill the void, but the truth is—it's not your first rodeo. And you know very well you're not going to simply be able to will the ability to move forward with your life. That you're just going to have to wait it out and mourn having been with Quincy and Arch, er, those characters, as steadily and for as long as you were and then learn to live on a day-to-day basis not being with them. And, yes, I do know they're sitting right there on the shelf whenever I need them. But you know what I mean. You have to somehow get past the end having happened to you, too. And not just to them. The Q is a lovely little (actually gratifyingly thick) standalone historical fiction (with a twist) novel and instant entry on my Best Books of 2016 list. Oh, and lest I forget, that cover. It is everything. With the newsprint? And the crease? And that very particular Q? Everything, I say.

It's worth mentioning that Beth Brower and I are friends. And that while I've talked about and spotlighted her work several times on the blog, I haven't reviewed her first three novels because of the close nature of our friendship. But this one, you guys. No power in the 'Verse could stop me from spreading the word. It's that good.

Quincy St. Claire makes time for nothing and no one not intimately involved in the day-to-day machinations of her beloved printing press—The Q. Since being taken in off the streets by her Great Uncle Ezekiel (along with her friend and fellow foundling Fisher), she has harnessed every ounce of her formidable energies and poured them into making Ezekiel's unusual press run like clockwork. And if it is true that Quincy's name is spoken far and wide throughout the lower streets and upper parlors of Rhysdon, it is also true that no one, with the possible exception of Fisher, truly knows the girl who sits on the high stool behind the counter. The girl who writes down the questions that pour in from the denizens of the city, each on an individual Q slip, and who then prints them to be sent out into the world to find their answers. Within the confines of The Q, it is Quincy's world. And it follows her rules. Until one night the heretofore laid back, if quite elderly, Ezekiel throws the hitch of all hitches into her plans. He is to die, he tells her. Imminently. And he has set her a task in the wake of his passing. Twelve of them, to be exact. Not only is she not to be informed what the tasks are, she is to be monitored in her efforts by none other than the bane of her existence—Mr. James Arch—The Q's solicitor and general disapproving stick-in-the-mud. If she fails, The Q will fall into other hands. Ezekiel proves immovable, as well as a man of his word, and so it is up to Quincy to go against every one of her grains and divert some of those well-harnessed energies to accomplishing the mysterious tasks. The alternative, after all, is unthinkable.

Quincy unwound her scarf and laid it over a matchstick chair. Removing her jacket, she opened her creaking armoire and hung it back in its place. Rolling up her shirt sleeves, Quincy walked to her window—a single window that looked down on Gainsford Street—and frowned at the snow.

The Q was to be given away.

If she could not fulfill her uncle's obscure requirements, The Q was to be given away.

On either side of Quincy's window stood two bureaus, tall, with five drawers each, large enough to fit clothing, papers, and what few possessions Quincy found worth keeping. She liked them not for the plebeian practicality they offered, but rather for the way that, when she pulled herself up on one and rested her feet on the edge of the other, Quincy found herself perched high in her window, watching whatever was passing on the street below. She did so now, feeling the gears of her mind catching, too disjointed by her uncle's words for their usually smooth, oiled rotation.

This early passage was the first moment I felt in perfect sympathy with our heroine. As she felt her mind strain to accommodate an unforeseen, wholly unwelcome shift in her well-ordered world. An old and solitary soul tucked economically inside the body of an eccentric young slip of a girl, Quincy is all that is analytical and stubborn, prone to excellence and disdain in equal quantities. In short, I loved her to pieces. From her dogged taunting of the self-righteous Mr. Arch to her single minded passion for the business that gave her life a reliable shape and purpose. To say nothing of her quiet, unwavering loyalty to her oldest (and only) friend Fisher and her uncharacteristic (some might say) fondness for a certain disreputable smuggler who drops into her domain from time to time. Oh, yes, I understood Quincy. And because I understood and loved her, I felt keenly her fierce determination and resolve to hold onto The Q at all costs. And so the pages flew by, full of eloquent and visceral descriptions of the workings of the press. I fell in love with not just Quincy, but with the intricate hierarchy of Rhysdon society, and especially with the people from all walks of life who found themselves drawn to this fanciful, yet precise location where they might quietly voice their questions, knowing that they will be heard, set in careful type, and perhaps someday answered. For a young woman with little use for demonstrative affections, she manages to provide rather a lot of hope for a city in need of just that.

Quincy and Fisher walked through all this in silence. Silence was the most common stock-in-trade between them, and the portfolio of their friendship was thick with it. So, without words, they stepped across the streets, their feet pressing the pavement with the same sounds, their toes turned just so; they knew what life was like at each other's side. Sometimes he would speak, or she would, small offerings on the altar of their joint survival.

This beautiful friendship was one of the most affecting aspects of the novel—for its solidity, its history, and its ardent portrayal. Bound together, are Quincy and Fisher, and we get to see them continue to chase survival on all its levels. And while we are speaking of ardency, I would be remiss if I didn't express my wholehearted devotion to the romantic vein that wends its way through the tale. I so appreciate that readers are given just as many pages as they might want to witness that particular relationship develop in the organic, stumbling, messy, and magnetic way that it does. Even more, I admire the way the two of them don't alter their essential chemistry to fit the other's expectations. They rage when they should rage, but they also see beyond the surface when the light glances off the other person in just the right way. Most importantly, they don't forget what they've seen and just how valuable it is. As I said, days later, I still can't get them out of my head. They're in there, striding down alleys and scarfing down buns, and generally making it impossible to get anything else done, so badly do I want to just sit back and watch them push and support each other and question wildly whether or not they will ever be able to make it come out right. I loved them so. The experience of reading The Q was an impossibly charming one. It repeatedly put me in mind of a few time-honored favorites, from a little Westmark here to a little Spindle's End there, to say nothing of a healthy dash of Dickens just for good measure. In the end, one thing is certain—The Q has room for you."

"This is the only time I’ve finished a book and then turned around and started re-reading it the same day. But it was worth it—and, in some ways it’s even better the second time through. I carried with me a knowledge of this expansive world and the people in it, so I could get lost in exploring without needing to find my bearings. I wrote paragraphs and paragraphs of analyzation over in my fan group, and I reveled in all the things said, the things implied, and the things unexplained but intriguing. I savored the occasional poetic turns of phrase and watched Quincy be Quincy with more understanding than before. She’s such a challenging character that it took me a long time to “convert�� to her side on the first read, but the second was a much more on-board experience.
I took nearly two months to enjoy this slow re-read, and I look forward to doing it again in the future. And also EVENTUALLY getting my hands on the short story as well as the Crow-centered novel the author has promised us. 🥰

P.S. As soon as I finished this read, the song started playing in my head�� it really is the perfect after-credits type of vibe. It came from the author’s own playlist for the book, and I could not love it more.

Original review follows:

Finished this very late at night, with a face unaccountably wet from tears at various points in the reading. Whew.
Yesterday I was lamenting to the friend with whom I'm buddy-reading this that the further into it I get, the less coherently I can express how I feel about it. Which is unfortunate, because, lordy, if ever a book deserves a review full of words that will make you run to read it, this is that book.

So I'll give it a shot.

I sort of read the synopsis for this one on the ŷ������ page, but it doesn't give very much away - and it turns out, that's a good thing. Because this book is a journey for the characters and the reader. If you invest in it - get introduced to the very challenging Miss Quincy St. Claire - wrestle with what you think of her and what you imagine about her - ponder and question the probabilities of what might happen - and then have moments sprung on you with sometimes startling emotional consequences -- well, if you get the privilege of doing all that without knowing for sure where you're being taken, then the payoff will be tremendous.

Still feeling a bit on the fence without a synopsis? Here's what little I will establish for you: The book is set in a fictional country off the coast of England and France in the late 1800's. If you like British historical fiction, you'll be quite at home. There's a little Dickensian flair to some of the setting and back-stories (although, if you, like me, aren't the hugest fan of Charles Dickens, don't be put off; this book is very much its own thing). Miss Quincy St. Claire is... I think I could call her a savant? Anyway, she's a mastermind in her field -- but she has miles yet to traverse as a human.

I read The Q after devouring the Emma M. Lion books, also by Beth Brower. How do they compare? The Emma M. Lion books have more overt humor and an easy-to-relate-to heroine, whereas The Q is a slow build and a slow burn with rather more challenge and gravitas. It's long, but it's immersive. And it will stay with you after the last page. Much as I long for more volumes of Emma, at the moment I'm overtaken with yearning for just a little more story for Quincy St. Claire and Someone Else, because it's incredibly hard to leave them."

"This book, y'all. Oh my word, this story. These characters! Quincy grabbed my heart pretty quickly and then never, ever gave it back. I heart Quincy so, so much! As well as every other character inhabiting this beautiful and heart-wrenching world of Beth Brower's! Oh friends, where do I even begin?

Quincy is the reason I downloaded the rest of the book after trying the first couple chapters. She is one of the most compelling and fascinating characters I have ever read! I am nothing like her, yet I felt the strongest connection that I was unable to shake. I'm not sure I even have words to describe what I felt, other than she became a part of my very heart. She has layers upon layers that slowly peel back as the story develops. She knows she is different from other folk and she embraces that, her confidence in who she is is one of the first things you notice about her. Yet don't ever suppose you truly understand her, there are a rare few that do. The second thing you notice? Her love for The Q.

It didn't take long for me to fall in love with The Q myself! What is The Q, you ask? It's a place that must be experienced. Full of the quirkiest and most wonderful of people, who all adore Quincy (and rightly so!). (Well, except for one, but they eventually come around. Just you watch how it happens! ;) The Q is Quincy. Quincy is The Q. These two entities do not exist without the other. It is a world like nothing else, when you enter the doors of The Q, you are entering Quincy's domain. She inhabits every single part of this place, it is the very breath she breathes day in and day out. But it's not just the place, it's the people. All the workers that know their jobs intimately, as well as all the myriad of people who walk in the doors planning to share bits of their hearts, albeit unknowingly a lot of the time. There is no part of Rhysdon society that is not affected by The Q, and thus is affected by Quincy.

One of the best things about her is her ignorance of just how awesome she is. There are deep wells of thought and emotion that only the most truest of her friends get to see, yet even those who only get glimpses of it are drawn almost reluctantly into her orbit. Especially one such James Arch! I loved each and every barbed interaction, the way they struggled to understand each other, even the way they hurt each other. The journey of their friendship involves two steps forward and three steps back. It's a tangle of chaos, and requires a lot of work as well as forgiveness, yet they attempt the hard again and again. That's the beauty of friendship with Quincy, she may hurt with her bluntness, yet once you see beyond her initial sharp edges, you cannot help but want to know more, want to try and really understand her. Like Fisher does. I loved their friendship! I loved that no matter what, they always had each other's back. When you've survived the things those two have, it creates a bond that cannot be broken in any way. Not even when they hurt each other. Which Quincy does the most often because the girl in no way understands how to be tactful. At all. Yet all the hard they've been through, and even the hard yet to come, only makes them stronger together. Even distance can't break it! :)

See? I keep coming back to Quincy. She is the heart and soul of this story. Once you become one of 'her people', you become privy to things she only shares with the worthy, and then you become protective of her and she of you. The family she creates around her is little, but mighty. She, herself, one of the mightiest! (Don't let her fool you, that small body houses a fierce mama-bear!) She is an irresistible force that made me want to hug her so many times, even though she'd have hated every minute of it. Her quirkiness, her bluntness, the way she struggled to understand the hidden cues of society, the way she didn't fit society at all, just the very fact that a character such as her exists!

Yet it's not just Quincy that I love, the writing is exceptional! I kept highlighting so many phrases on my kindle, I fear I'm going to have trouble narrowing down which to feature. Thank you, Ms. Brower, for this story. For creating the gloriously imperfect Quincy for me to fall in love with! For these words that necessitated I stay up entirely too late reading. For The Q and this world that felt so much bigger than just a building and a few streets in the city. For this engrossing story that inhabited my mind and every moment of my life until I finished the final page! (And even for days after that.) For making me wish I could enter the pages and become a part of the story myself. This book is going on my top ten reads of this year, no doubt about it. It's incredible! You should read it. Trust me, you really should."

"3.5 stars, rounded up
I'm a big fan of Peter Heller, but I hesitated over the idea of him writing a dystopian novel. (I have yet to read The Dog Stars.) Luckily, the story encompasses the same wilderness setting he typically favors. And Heller does a good job of contrasting the beauty of nature with the manmade horror surrounding the main characters.
The story involves a US in the future when differences have become so acute that the country is on the edge of civil war. States are talking of seceding. Jess and Storey are on their annual two week hunting trip in Maine when they come across a town burned to the ground. Trying to find their way home, they discover town after town in the same destroyed condition. They see helicopters, but it’s not even apparent for which side.
The book is told exclusively from Jess’s POV. The two men, while best friends, have vastly different lives. Storey is desperate to get home to his wife and kids. Jess is rudderless. He has no one, having lost his wife and most recently, his dog. Then, they come across a five year old girl.
Heller totally gets the sense of having no idea what moves to take, what are the best decisions in a world gone mad where you have no sense of what is happening. I found the characters to be rich and well defined and appreciated the insights into male friendship.
There are flashbacks to Jess’s teenage years and a decision he makes at that time. These are meant to give us insight into Jess’s current mental state, but I can’t say that the premise totally worked for me.
Of course, it’s a scary plot point as we seem so close to the conditions that could lead to this setting. “Some geopolitical straw that finally broke at last the brittle civility.�� Heller never really spells out the political situation or defines what either side stands for. While I understood why he did this, there was a part of me that wanted that definition.
My biggest complaint was that the ending felt rushed and then unresolved. This was my least favorite of the works I’ve read by Heller. Which isn’t to say it’s not good. It just wasn’t spectacular.
My thanks to Netgalley and Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage for an advance copy of this book.

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