Curtsies and Conspiracies
This is another hugely enjoyable book from Carriger. Once again our girl Sophronia is thrown into difficulties at her alleged finishing school. This time she has a lot more to do with the supernatural element of her world, especially the vampires. Of course there’s a lot of discussion of dresses and fashion and hats and reticules; she must figure out how to carry a knife without it being obvious, she must learn to bat her eyelids effectively, and how best to carry the implements required of a young lady in her position. I’m still surprised by how enjoyable I find yet another school focused book.
Most of this book is spent on the dirigible of Miss Geraldine’s finishing school. Some time is spent in classes, learning about domestic economy, poisoning, fainting and how to properly address vampires. But for Sophronia, much of her time is spent on the outside of the dirigible – climbing – as well as with the sooties down below and the dressing-as-a-boy Vieve. Interestingly the plot follows on from Etiquette and Espionage, in that the MacGuffin here is the same. Of course this time it’s not so much about finding the prototype as it is about figuring out what it can do, how it will do it, and who will control it. There’s a surprising amount of politics for a book that seems at least on the outside as being solely can send with fashion. I guess that’s kind of the point; that the two don’t have to be mutually exclusive and anyone who is thinks they are is likely to underestimates graduates of Miss Geraldine’s finishing school.
One of the big differences in this book compared to the original is that there’s a lot more boys. I’m not really sure what I think about this; on the one hand it’s obviously an important skill for girls like Sophronia and Dimity to learn – that is, how to deal with difficult yet handsome young man. And of course reappearing in this book is Soap, certainly one of my favorite characters although somewhat problematic given that he’s black and his nickname is Soap. On the other hand I really enjoyed the almost exclusively female cast of the first book; the fact that boys were not necessary for the book to proceed, the fact that the girls were perfectly capable of getting themselves into and out of scrapes generally without any male assistance (or hindrance) at all. While some of the ways that Sophronia dealt with her would-be suitors was entertaining, I did find myself enjoying the sections of the plot that solely involves the girls generally more enjoyable.
I continue to be fascinated by the development of this world that Carriger initially developed for the Alexia books. And of course I remain desperately keen to find out how this series will intersect with the earlier one. One of those intersections is quite obvious but I have no doubts that Carriger will provide some further surprises in the rest of the series.
The Book of Life
1. I received this as a review copy from the publisher.
2. I have not read the previous two books in the trilogy. As well as impacting on my understanding of relationships, it’s possible this review will therefore have spoilers for the first two books.
Vampires are not, in general, my thing. Yes I have read an enjoyed a number of books that include vampires, but I do not go out of my way to read them. And I don’t especially like vampires for their own sake; I have enjoyed books they’re in when the story itself is great. (Cyborgs, though? I like cyborgs. Sometimes I don’t even care about the plot.) So The Book of Life is not inherently my thing – so if you love vampires, this review probably isn’t going to be useful to you.
The main characters are a witch/historian, Diana, and her vampire/scientist husband, Matthew. They’ve just got back to the 21st century from Elizabethan England and things are messy, not least because there’s not meant to be such mix-marriages and it’s compounded by Diana being pregnant. Also there’s a threat a brewing both to their family and to the supernatural species in general – which also includes daemons but they hardly feature at all in the book – AND they have to continue their search for the titular Book of Life for reasons that are never clearly explained. This involves Science, and History, and the occasional It’s Not Really a Significant Crime, right? Also getting humans involved in their work, travelling across Europe, family arguments, snark, more snark, the odd bit of sex and being a bit creepy.
Pretty standard stuff really.
I was dubious when I received this from the publisher, having not read the others. But I decided to give it a go and I was impressed by how well Harkness managed to basically catch me up. For those completing the trilogy this may well have been annoying info-dump, of course. There were random characters who appeared that had no impact on me but were clearly significant, and call-backs to previous events that I just shrugged past, but I certainly never felt like I was being left behind. So that’s a positive. As well, this is the epitome of page-turning-ness. I read the whole thing on a public holiday (580 pages). I didn’t give it the world’s greatest amount of attention (it’s not like reading Ann Leckie), but I also didn’t skip pages searching for dialogue (um, a few books I won’t mention). Thus, highly readable.
At times I almost forgot that this was meant to be a supernatural kinda book, and read it as a family drama – and it works exceptionally well as such. Every now and then there were odd, jarring notes (yes, I’ve been mourning for five centuries…), but really most of it works on ‘you can’t marry him’/’I just did’ – ‘what do you MEAN you’ve got a [insert unknown family member here]’ – ‘I hate you but I’ll work with you anyway’ interactions. Which can be quite fun when they’re written with enough snark. (Harkness could have added a little more snark, and I wouldn’t have minded.) In this way, it reminds me a bit of the Gail Carriger books – the Parasol Protectorate, while having awesome stuff about tech etc, boils down to relationships and how to negotiate them ((maybe everything does ultimately…).
Harkness touches on some interesting issues, too. I quite liked that Diana and Matthew at least in theory had jobs – they didn’t do much for their employers in this novel, too busy being Indiana Joneseque, but they DID use their professional skills. And Diana is absolutely expected to use hers, because why not? That was nice. Also that Diana keeps working right up til she hatches. And the discussion around why witches and vampires and daemons aren’t allowed to congregate, while a little heavy handed at times, was yet another example of exploring racial separation/ ‘purity’ issues. Aided by the appearance of Diana’s best friend Chris, ‘a black man from Alabama’.
Problems? I don’t like Matthew’s possessiveness. There’s at least one jab aimed at Twilight (‘no, I don’t sparkle’), and maybe others – I haven’t read it so I’m not sure. But I do know from reading some discussions that the possessiveness is present there, as it is here, and I don’t like it. Explain it by saying he’s got a great sense of smell if you like; I don’t care. Plus I am SO BORED by love triangles. Also, on the narrative, there are some holes and a few bits that are just left hanging. Which was annoying. And finally, not something that’s unique to this story but something I’m getting a little weary of: all of the main characters are exceptional. They’re world renowned in their fields. No one is just average. Which, sure, I guess it helps the narrative, but ‘oh I’ve read your work!’ got a bit eye-rolly.
Overall I was pleasantly surprised, because I really didn’t think – when I picked it up – that I’d end up finishing it, let alone in a day. If vampires and witches and love and mystery are your thing, don’t start here – I imagine you want to go back and start with A Discovery of Witches. But anyway, you can get The Book of Life from Fishpond (and Discovery of Witches too).
Galactic Suburbia 76
In which we celebrate the real beginning of awards season, taste honey and launch Alisa into her new world as PhD student of publishing… You can get us from iTunes or at Galactic Suburbia.
News
Nebula shortlist
SF Signal Nebula post (with unfortunate comments and awesome responses)
Stella Prize longlist with special appearance by our own Margo Lanagan.
The Kitschies winners announced
Interesting link found after recording: Lavie Tidhar on the Kitschies & diversity
Libba Bray on misogyny at the Oscars
Also, go read NK Jemisin talking about race, misogyny & Quvenzhané Wallis with “Fantasy fans, where’s your outrage?”
We didn’t discuss that one on the podcast because – well, what can we possibly say as three white women that Jemisin didn’t say a million times more effectively? Read her instead.
Thoraiya Dyer interviewed for Cosmos Magazine about how becoming a full time mum was actually great for her writing career.
Splashdance Silver back in e-edition – Tansy’s first novel, now celebrating its 15th anniversary.
Culture Consumed
ALEX: Etiquette and Espionage, Gail Carriger; The Chains that you Refuse, Elizabeth Bear; Rainbow Bridge, Gwyneth Jones; Caprica.
TANSY: Perfections, Kirstyn McDermott; For Darkness Shows the Stars, Diana Peterfreund
ALISA: The Honey Month, Amal El-Mohtar
New Segment: Diary of a Publisher – it’s our duty (and that includes all our listeners) to keep Alisa honest as she walks away from her dayjob to take up the challenge of a PhD in creative publishing. Mind the flannel!
It’s our birthday next fortnight – have cake ready for when you listen!
Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs, check out Galactic Suburbia Podcast on Facebook and don’t forget to leave a review on iTunes if you love us!
Etiquette and Espionage: a review
“Young ladies ought to be seen and not heard, except when they’re climbing over dirigibles or looking for secret information. Unless the being seen bit is part of a misdirection.”
This advice pretty much sums up what Mademoiselle Geraldine’s Finishing Academy for Young Ladies of Quality is all about. They learn music and etiquette, along with eyelash-fluttering and the language of parasols, but all of it goes into the service of turning out young ladies who are capable of stealing, finding, maiming, subverting or even killing anything or anyone as required. With decorum, modesty, and a poise that befits their position. Woe betide any stain on a petticoat hem.
Gail Carriger has returned to the world she created in the Alexia Tarabotti (two of which I’ve reviewed here), although this appears – from various internal hints – to be set before Alexia’s thrilling adventures into how to dress to deal with the supernatural. This means that this is a decidedly other version of Victorian England; one in which mechanical servants are completely de rigeur, as is having both a werewolf and a vampire on the faculty of said Finishing School. There are trains but there are also dirigibles; there is no telegraph, but it’s ok – there’s still lots of fashion.
For fans of Carriger’s previous work, I should mention some of the differences, the foremost being in the main character. Sophronia is fourteen, and therefore – despite a propensity towards precociousness – very different in outlook from the adult Alexia. Attached to this is that Sophronia is a student, and therefore at least nominally restricted in her movements, unlike Alexia.And, while Alexia’s adventures revolve around the supernatural because of her unusual preternatural status, the supernatural is just there for Sophronia – to be admired or scared of occasionally, but not intersecting with her everyday life in much of a way (although Captain Niall is a spunk). None of these comments are intended to be in any way a complaint about this new novel; it’s just good to clear the air for fans of the previous work.
So, Sophronia. Imagine getting settled with that for a first name. She’s the youngest daughter but somewhere-in-the-middle child of the Temminnick household, consistently getting into trouble and generally causing small-to-medium mayhem (landing a trifle on a lady’s head doesn’t quite count as major mayhem, since said lady was a duchess or anything). This mayhem is naturally upsetting to her mother, mostly because it means that Sophronia is not acting like a lady and generally ends up looking very unlike a lady (custard is unbecoming). Thus, to finishing school, much to her sister Petunia’s relief (… I think I would rather Sophronia as my name) and Sophronia’s dismay. Fortunately, the journey to the school itself contains adventure, and Sophronia begins to suspect that this school may not be quite what she was expecting. And then she reaches the school itself, and the very buildings indicate that this is quite something else.
The plot revolves around good old fashioned intrigue amongst students and staff, as well as an external threat. As with any good school-based novel there’s a deal of sussing-out the good eggs from the bad, figuring out which teachers can be manipulated in which ways, and poking at the edges of the rules to see which break and which bend. The first is just complex enough to be interesting, even amongst Sophronia’s group of ‘debuts’ (first-years) – there’s only 6. The second is complicated by the fact that the staff are naturally quite good at the things they teach – diversion, for example, and manipulation, and generally devious behaviour. And the third – well, that’s where the fun lies, isn’t it?
The Alexia novels have been referred to as ‘bustlepunk’, and it’s fair to say that you have to have a genuine fascination with, or high tolerance for, descriptions of clothing, toilette in general, and eating to really enjoy those novels. The same applies here, although it’s laid on a little less thick – we’re mostly dealing with young teenaged girls after all, with little interaction with outside society (which doesn’t mean they can get away with not having their hair and nails perfect, nor that they can ever be seen less than fully clothed (inc several petticoats)). Sophronia is an interesting perspective to share, in this case, because her previous attitude was definitely one of scowling at the notion of ‘ladylike’. This changes over time, but the reasons for her change in attitude are also shown – and it’s not that catching a husband suddenly assumes an enormous significance for her. This slight undercutting of the social expectations of a Victorian lady was nice to see.
My one complaint, and fortunately it does not crop up very often, is something that also bugged me in a couple of the Alexia novels, and that’s the attitude towards class. Just occasionally there are comments about those not in the rarified ranks of quail-tay. Usually those comments come from unpleasant characters, but – unlike the comments on social expectations – they are not undercut to show the unpleasant snobbery inherent in such words. It’s somewhat mollified by Sophronia’s unconventional friendship with some Downstairs types, who – glory! – actually manage to be quite useful, but still… the comments rankled.
Overall, this is a rocking, enjoyable novel. Steampunk for the sake of the plot, not the aesthetic; spunky female lead (this definitely passes the Bechdel test); and a satisfactorily intriguing plot. Yes I am looking forward to the sequel… which, given this has only just come out, is something of a problem for me.
You can get Etiquette and Espionage from Fishpond.
Timeless: the last Alexia Tarabotti novel
The last Parasol Protectorate book, Heartless, bugged me because of its snobbish attitudes towards the middle class. I was very pleased to see that this was not quite such an issue here, mostly because there is little real interaction with the middle classes. So that was one problem cleared up.
This review contains spoilers for the first four books, but NOT this one.
Timeless opens with a delightfully domestic scene: Alexia Tarabotti and Conall Maccon dressing for the theatre (to the latter’s disgust) when they are summoned… to the bathroom. Where chaos is ensuing, because their toddler daughter Prudence really, really doesn’t want a bath. And while bathing a toddler can be a trying time under ordinary circumstances, when said toddler steals vampirism and werewolfism from those individuals with a single touch and she is being bathed by vampires… well. Potential disaster for those involved, hilarity for onlookers.
This is the reader’s introduction to the new life Alexia finds herself with, since the end of Heartless saw the birth of said daughter. For most of that book, Alexia was heavily pregnant but did not generally allow that state to get in the way of adventures and potentially risky undertakings. Having had her daughter frees Alexia somewhat to go back to her old life with even less worry, especially since Prudence has officially been adopted by the outrageously dressed Lord Akeldama (confidant, vampire, fashion guru). Alexia is a devoted and caring mother, and also a working mother. She can manage to balance motherhood and work fairly well because of her privileged position in terms of wealth and what essentially amounts to a very large, devoted, extended family who are willing to do much of the routine stuff. There is little explicitly said about how this affects Alexia (or Prudence), and the only other mother in the book with toddlers also has enough money to afford a nanny, so the realities of life for working mothers is left uninterrogated. This is also, I think, a factor of the book’s setting in Victorian London, where this was the norm for moneyed mothers, even those who did not undertake paid work. So while it was good to see a mother being able to act as a human being, apart from her child but still with the child making a fundamental change to her life, it would have been nice to see a bit more reflection on that situation. (Perhaps that was too much to want in what is intended as a romp.) While this aspect was a little underdone to my tastes, the very fact that there was any discussion of the impact of fatherhood on Lord Maccon was very welcome indeed. Although it had been revealed in an earlier book that he was already a father, we see here how he feels about a toddler – and the answer is very positive. Devoted, in fact, and willing to be directly involved in her life and upbringing. His distress at being unable to hold Prudence whenever he likes, because of her ability to turn him mortal and herself therefore into a werewolf cub, is subtly but clearly painted, and is one of the nicest domestic aspects of the whole book.
Domesticity is therefore a consistently present theme throughout the book, and how to balance it with undertaking potentially life-endangering missions for pack, queen and country. The action, though, is driven by a summons Alexia receives from the vampire queen of Alexandria, requiring her to present herself and Prudence before her. This necessitates some sort of cover to allow them to travel without suspicion to Egypt, and the gaining of that cover is definitely the funniest part of the entire narrative. Capers is Egypt unfold as expected, which is to say unexpectedly, and involve boats, balloons, and donkeys.
More than any other of the Parasol Protectorate novels, this one features a substantial sub-plot, involving Maccon’s great-great-great-granddaugher, Sidheag Maccon, the Lady Kingair. It also ends up involving Biffy, Akeldama’s former acolyte turned reluctant werewolf. His particular journey is one of the most interesting across the novels, I think, because many of the other immortals have either been that way for a very long time or were desperately hoping to become one. Biffy, though, is now cut off from most everything he loved in his former life – starting with Akeldama and descending, oh my, to the fact that he just can’t keep his hair neat any more. While this latter issue may seem incredibly superficial, as does his fastidious attention to fashion, it reflects his attempts to integrate his original life with his new one, so the compromises he makes are actually quite significant. Plus, awesome dress sense.
Also, there are a lot of frocks. And cravats, and hats. Ivy features, and she has a lot of hats. Some of them have feathers.
Werewolves, vampires, parasols…
This is the fourth book in the Alexia Tarabotti/Maccon series, The Parasol Protectorate. As such there are spoilers for the first three (Soulless, Changeless, Blameless), but there are NO major spoilers for Heartless.
When a ghost turns up in front of Alexia and mentions that there is a plot against the queen’s life, Alexia naturally flings herself into uncovering and halting it. Even if she weren’t muhjah and therefore responsible for such a thing, she could hardly help herself from meddling and being all Miss Marple-y. In the course of her investigations, Alexia must of course deal with the supernatural set – werewolves and vampires mostly – of London, have hair-raising adventures, and drink a great deal of tea. All of this while she is eight months’ pregnant. Oh, and her life is being threatened on a regular basis, too.
Readers of the previous Carriger novels will know, in broad terms, what to expect. Exciting chases, clever detective work, witty repartee, clashes between vampires and werewolves, unexpected twists in the plot. It delivers exactly what you expect from it, and is therefore very satisfying. There is further development of vampire/werewolf society, and a bit more of their collective and individual history; a bit more about preternaturals and Alessandro Tarabotti, too. It doesn’t stand out from Carriger’s other novels, but I wouldn’t have wanted it to. Alexia’s story, while clearly episodic, follows a naturally developing plotline overall – personally, in terms of how she fits into society, and more broadly in terms of how supernaturals fit into and impact on society. That each story feels the same thus makes sense.
I enjoyed the plot of this novel as much as I have previous ones. Just who might be plotting against the queen was revealed what I thought was surprisingly early, but the question of motive was made more suspenseful, and fit in well with the overall themes of the book. The subplots, mostly revolving around the interactions of various characters, was nicely played out; they made sense in the context of those characters as well as furthering our understanding of them. The characters are a large part of what makes this series so endearing. Here, we get an even larger dose of Lord Akeldama than previously (darling), and his fashion sense continues to surprise; his changed relationship with Biffy, once-drone-now-werewolf, is a touching and revealing aspect of the story. There is, sadly, little of Ivy and her daring hats, but a gratifyingly large dose of Professor Lyall.
One of the most intriguing aspects of this story is the fact that Alexis is heavily pregnant for its entirety. Too often in urban fantasy – or any other works, really, except those that are specifically about being pregnant – a woman’s pregnancy is either largely ignored or there’s a nine month slippage in events. Here, though, it’s both integral and not a limiting factor. When Alexia tries to run, she is hampered by her belly. Carriger frequently describes her as waddling, or other such words; she is eating more, sleeping badly, and needing to pee at inconvenient times. She is definitely, genuinely pregnant. But she also does as much as she can around the infant-inconvenience, as she calls it. I don’t have children, and it may be that some mothers will read these sections and shake their heads in ridicule at what Alexis accomplishes so heavily pregnant. For me, it seemed slightly unlikely, but that was forgiven by the fact that a) it’s fantasy, and b) it’s Alexia. I’m happy to be corrected, of course.
Two things are, sadly, beginning to make this series not the wonderful, joyous ride it was to begin with. The first is the snobbery. I understand that it is period-appropriate, and that perhaps it is undertaken with sarcasm or irony in mind. But actually there’s only so much withering scorn that I can put up with when directed towards the middle-classes – those who wear knitwear, or who might be in trade – not to mention the attitude towards servants. This is also a small part of my larger problem with the series… which is Alexia herself. I am beginning to find her tiresome. Her snobbery is a factor; I am also realising that I am nowhere near as interested in fashion as a true Carriger/Alexia devotee needs to be, to not find Alexia’s discussions of and thoughts about clothing a bit tedious. I also don’t think Alexia has developed that much over the course of the series, which means that those quirks that were initially endearing are now become irritating. This is not to say that I am abandoning the series; I am terribly excited to read the final novel, Timeless, when it eventually comes out. But I won’t be sorry (I imagine) that that’s the last novel.
All in all, fans of Carriger’s previous works will not be disappointed – although if you can, I would personally recommend waiting for the fifth book to be published, so that you don’t have to wait however months it is to get the finale.
Randomly Yours, Alex 