Month: October 2012

Link Round Up: Oct 23-30

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Autostraddle posted This NSFW Video Of Teresa Reading Jeanette Winterson Is Relevant To Interests.

Elisa posted LGBT Ebook and Print Releases October, 2012.

lesbian meets books nyc posted If the purpose is connection, embrace digital: To Sinister Wisdom and any other heretofore-unknown lesbian journals I wish I could easily access.

      

Piercing Fiction posted Lesbian Fiction Readers’ Choice Awards closing.

Queer Book Club posted More queer reads out this month.

QWOC Media Wire posted LGBT Elders, Disability, and Community Care: Support Queer Brown Activist, Aurora Levins Morales.

      

“Comic Books Embrace Gay Characters as Readers Hope It’s Just the Beginning” was posted at The Guardian.

“A Few of the Best LGBT History Archives in the U.S”. was posted at the Huffington Post.

“LGBT History: Famous Women Who Loved Women” was posted at the Huffington Post.

“ANNOUNCEMENT: LGBTQ Book Blogger Directory” was posted by Bonjour, Cass!

      

Emma Donoghue was interviewed at OUT.

Stephanie Schroeder was interviewed about her book Beautiful Wreck: Sex, Lies & Suicide at Curve Magazine.

Rachel Spangler was interviewed at Women and Words (plus giveaway!)

 Jeanette Winterson won the Independent Booksellers’ Book Prize 2012.

      

Awakenings by Jackie Calhoun was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

Astray by Emma Donoghue was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

A Perfect Match by Erin Dutton was reviewed at C-Spot Reviews.

Anomaly by Anne Fleming was reviewed by Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian.

Brain Plague by Joan Slonczewski was reviewed at SFFic.

Maryam reviews Affinity by Sarah Waters

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Affinity was my first venture into the writing of Sarah Waters, and I have to say that I particularly enjoyed it.  This novel in particular came well-recommended: firstly by Amazon(!), and seconded by my advisor, thirded by a friend who owned the book and wound up giving it to me(thanks, Emily!). I especially appreciated the recommendation by my advisor, a religion professor specializing in Spiritualism.

Sarah Waters weaves the tale of Margaret “Peggy” Prior, an upper-class woman in 1870s England who is recovering, it would seem, from a suicide attempt – something only vaguely touched on, as it would be in society back then – and her project of becoming a visitor to a women’s prison to help her spirits rise(and also to get her out from under the wings of her overly protective mother). At Millbank Prison, she meets Selina Dawes, a medium who has been imprisoned after a séance gone horribly wrong.

Sarah Waters is a wonderful writer; she begins with the night of the séance, and Selina’s backstory is woven in with the first-person narrative of Margaret’s diary entries.  My advisor is doing a research seminar this semester on Spiritualism, and in class we read selections from Susan Willis Fletcher’s Twelve Months in an English Prison – it is clear that Sarah Waters took this account as inspiration for this novel. At one point, Peggy goes to a Spiritualist reading room to check the accounts of Selina’s trial, and there are some definite parallels to the amazing occurrences that happen between Selina and Peggy. Affinity is a bittersweet novel – well-written, wonderfully crafted, but still resonating with the difficulties of the time it takes place in. It is not a novel for those who want their endings happy – once the reader realizes where the plot is headed, it is a rough ride to the finish – but it is well wrought, and well worth reading.  I appreciated the historical realism of how Spiritualism was treated, and now that I’m well into the research seminar, I can appreciate the historical realism of the prison system at the time. But perhaps “appreciate” is not quite the right word…

If you’re interested in Ms. Waters’ work, but don’t have time for her longer works(such as Tipping the Velvet  or Fingersmith), I would definitely recommend Affinity – but prepare yourself for a bit of supernatural heartbreak.

Danika reviews Megume and the Trees by Sarah Toshiko Hasu

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I have so many Thoughts (questions, really) about this book, but 99% of them are spoilers. There are trigger warnings also within the spoiler text, so keep that in mind if its relevant.

Megume and the Trees is a fairy-tale-like story about a fifteen-year-old girl who runs after a dog into the forest and finds herself caught in a surreal sequence of events there. The writing is straight-forward and doesn’t distract from the story, and the story itself is interesting in that fairy tale way. Megume is a Japanese-American teenager who is still reeling from the death of her mother and the struggle with her father and stepmother. Despite the dangers of the woods, Megume is not particularly motivated to go back to her normal life. Along the way she meets her dead grandfather and a World War II nurse forever caught in the bombing of Pearl Harbor. From here on are blatant spoilers, because it’s all I can think about with this book.

[spoilers] I don’t know what to think of this ending! I hadn’t really bothered to look for an explanation of why she was in these bizarre, dreamlike woods… I guess it was a sort of purgatory-type area between one life and the next, where she had to come to terms with her previous life…? So Megume was dead the whole time. I think she entered the woods after jumping off the bridge? Of course, it’s not entirely clear. I just don’t know what to think about a teen book that ends (begins? both?) with a suicide, especially one that is painted as a beautiful act. I am not sure who to recommend this book to. It seems kind of irresponsible to hand a book that has a surprise suicide at the end, especially to a young person.

I was also just really confused by the ending, because Megume seems to have come to terms with her life and wants to go back to her life outside the woods. At that point, she jumps into the waterfall and walks out into the ocean, which I guess is to move on to a new life, but it seems counter intuitive.

Also, why the dog?! Why? As soon as Sasurai died, I was drawn out the story. It’s just so, so common to kill off the dog for dramatic effect in a book. Why bother having her reunite with the dog and then die? And why did she die, considering her biggest wound was a cut paw? And how did she die if the woods are an in-between place between worlds/lives/realms/etc? Wouldn’t Kat have died, too, then? Were the Grandfather and Sasu not really there the whole time?

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Megume and the Trees. I think that I would have enjoyed the book more if I had known the whole time that Megume had already committed suicide. With it being at the end, I just felt betrayed by the book. [end spoilers]

Mostly, though, I want other people to read this book so we can discuss it. I think it’s a really interesting story, but I’m divided on it.

Kristi reviews Rest for the Wicked by Ellen Hart

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Ellen Hart’s latest Jane Lawless mystery (20th in the series) finds Jane on her first “official” investigation. After finally scoring her PI license and teaming up with A. J. Nolan, Jane gets to do things by the book this time. Unfortunately, her first client ends up dead before she meets him — Nolan’s nephew, DeAndre Moore, leaves a message on her voicemail, then is killed behind a gentleman’s club. Nolan doesn’t even know why DeAndre was in Minneapolis in the first place, but when he ends up in the hospital due to complications from his gunshot wound (acquired while protecting Jane), Jane has no choice but to try to discover DeAndre’s last movements and find out why someone would kill him. Soon DeAndre’s isn’t the only murder involved, and Jane will have to use all of her skills, old and new, to find out what is going on before the next body comes to light.

Jane has always been a favorite of mine since I was in college, and she has certainly grown through the years. While always embroiled in some sort of investigation, she was never a character that seemed too divorced from reality. Now, by giving her an official “license to snoop,” Hart can bring more investigative depth to an already well-rounded character. Jane’s love life is always dropped into each book in one way or another, and when she is (once again) between relationships, the gentleman’s club becomes a central point for a lot of interest in this story.

As important as Jane and her mysteries are to the books, the secondary plots around her business, family, or her friend Cordelia are always entertaining and well-written, if often a bit crazy (especially those featuring Cordelia). As long as Hart keeps creating these layered stories, I will be waiting for the next Jane Lawless book.

Link Round Up: Oct 16-23

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The Advocate posted Five Great Overlooked Lesbian Books From 2012.

Autostraddle posted Lez Liberty Lit #5: All Poetry All The Time.

Cocktail Hour posted Conversations at the Bar – Liz & Jove Belle (plus giveaway!)

      

Over at FY Lesbian Literature, this blog’s tumblr counterpart, I posted some lesbian Halloween reads! Halloween lesbian books, general horror lesbian books, zombie lesbians books, werewolf lesbian books, vampire lesbian books, and more vampire lesbian books.

      

Lambda Literary posted Listen to the 2006 Jane Rule Interview with Women-Stirred Radio and ‘Sinister Wisdom’: The Oldest Surviving Lesbian Literary Journal (Check out Sinister Wisdom’s Indiegogo campaign as well!).

The Lesbian Fiction Readers Choice Awards for Favorite Book Cover have been announced, going to the books Broken Shield, Hellebore and Rue: Tales of Queer Women and Magic, Two for the Show, True Confessions, and Waking up Gray.

Queer Book Club posted New books out this month.

Women and Words posted UK GLBTQ Fiction Meet.

      

Catherine Lundoff posted Guest Blog Post from the editors of “Outlaw Bodies”.

Stephanie Schroeder was interviewed at About.com Lesbian Life about her book Beautiful Wreck.

A queer bookstore may be opening in NYC!

Justin Hall Celebrates “No Straight Lines: Four Decades of Queer Comics”” was posted at Comic Book Resources.

      

One In Every Crowd by Ivan E. Coyote was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

Radiant Days by Elizabeth Hand was reviewed by Malinda Lo.

Empty Without You: The Intimate Letters Of Eleanor Roosevelt and Lorena Hickok edited by Rodger Streitmatter was reviewed at Brain Pickings.

As always, you can see even more links by follow The Lesbrary on Twitter! Also check us out on Facebook and tumblr.

Kit reviews Noble Falling by Sara Gaines

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Aleana Melora, Duchess of Eniva, knows her duty. She comes from a noble family of formidable reputation, and her upcoming marriage to her realm’s Prince, Tallak, will seal it for generations. This does not mean she looks forward to it, only that she will do what she must.

The Duchess expects quiet dissatisfaction and loneliness, tempered by the hope of being a good Queen. She does not expect betrayal. She does not expect fighting and death and political intrigues from quarters she never even knew about. She does not expect to be rescued by Kahira. And Kahira—fierce and solitary, with a past as ugly as the brand on her arm—does not expect Aleana Melora.

Full disclosure. I’ve been looking forward to this book’s release since I stumbled across Sara Gaines and her tumblr last month. We’ve spoken off and on, she seems lovely, and I gleefully purchased the epub yesterday, hoping for romance, adventure, and the heady mix of newness and nostalgia that might come from old quest fantasy tropes played out by queer characters.

Noble Falling delivers all of this, plus persimmons. There is a lot to love in this book. Aleana is a vivid character, and her first person voice shows us a duchess who is…well, precious. In the bad sense as well as the good. She is naive and pampered and used to command, and she does not take immediately to dangerous travels in the woods, with only one guard—and, eventually, a very distracting Kahira—for company. So often in these these types of narrative, the heroine is able to adapt too fast and too well, giving her success less impact. Here, you can actually see Aleana’s evolution, and it is believable as well as lovely. Kahira is, perhaps, a little too much the darkly mysterious stranger, full of allure and sidelong glances, but she was charismatic enough for me not to care. My one complaint about Kahira is that she wasn’t introduced early enough!

One major issue of Noble Falling is in the pacing. The book is only 145 pages long, all of the action seemed crammed in the first fifteen and the last forty-five pages. The rest of the story is Aleana’s quest to travel from near her old home in Eniva to Tallak’s capital Seyna, and there is a lot of sleeping on rough ground and dubious camp meals, without much tension. We learn about Aleana’s married guard, Ori, and—when she joins them—we strive with Aleana to learn a little more about Kahira, but as Aleana allows herself to shape her complete unwillingness to marry Tallak, and acceptance of the fact that yes, she really does feel attraction to women, it’s hard to actually want her to stick to her journey. This provoked more irritation in me than it did pathos. Adding to this, when she completes it, the story suddenly explodes into a violent whirlwind of political intrigue that, while adding depth to the story, could have been introduced in greater amounts a lot earlier. there are hints throughout, just not many of them. There is also quite a lot of info-dumping in the early chapters.

As complaints go, however, these are minor minor. This is a first novel, and Gaines has set up a world in Noble Falling that I sincerely hope will be expanded, as I am not quite ready to give up Alaena and Kahira, or the world that Aleana so passionately wants to improve.

These two have an almost unseemly amount of chemistry; it was delightful. When, at one key point in the story, Aleana declares she would surrender her title—something that we know is crucial to her—to save Kahira’s life, you will believe it. It was also lovely to read a universe where girls (at least, girls without title or need to maintain noble bloodlines) can marry girls, and boys marry boys with little comment. This is not a coming out novel. It is a story about change, about beginnings and gallantry and trust that fills an empty space in my heart much like Julie Anne Peters’s work did for me years ago.

I hope that Sara Gaines never stops.

 

Jill Guccini reviews Girl from Mars by Tamara Bach

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Miriam is a 15-year-old girl living in a small town in Germany, and like a lot of 15-year-old girls in small towns, she spends her life waiting for something to happen. She fights with her mom; passes her schooldays in boredom. She goes to parties and drinks when she has the opportunity yet never really enjoys herself. She has friends but when she thinks about it, doesn’t even know if she really likes them. As she describes it::

“I’m Miriam, I’m tired, and that’s it. No more, no less. Ordinary. My mother says I’m lazy. My math teacher says I’m not stupid. Sometimes I’m like this and sometimes I’m like that.”

And then, unexpectedly, there’s something interesting, and that something is Laura. And who is Laura? Miriam doesn’t quite know herself. And she doesn’t know exactly how she feels about Laura, either, other than she likes being with her, and that life is weird.

“Then I look at her and she looks at me, and it’s different again. Not bad different, but weird, like when you hear a new song that sounds strange but not in a bad way. And at some point you find yourself humming along, and you remember the words as you lie in bed, thinking of Laura and smiling into the dark, because the song is good, better than the others, and because it makes your heart beat faster, and it reminds you of yourself.”

Sorry to include so many quotes from Girl From Mars within the first two paragraphs of this review, but Tamara Bach just says it so well. Originally published in Germany in 2003 and first translated into English in 2008 by the Canadian publisher Groundwood Books, Girl From Mars won a number of German book awards such as the Oldenburg Young Adult Book Award and the Deutsche Jugendliteraturpreis (German Youth Literature Prize). As I read it, I kept getting hit with Skins or Show Me Love vibes, and thinking to myself, is it just me, or does Europe really just get teens right? There’s a certain darkness, a complexity, that permeates the language that, speaking as an American, isn’t always allowed here. It hits a tone that almost makes you uneasy, a dangerous feeling to many people who believe we need to look out for the delicate flowers of youth.

Or perhaps Miriam’s malaise strikes all the right chords for me because I relate to it too well. Oh, the ache of growing up in a small town when all of your insides feel so much bigger than your surroundings! Yet there are things that you like, the pretty things about your environment that you allow yourself to appreciate once in a while. But then you remember that everyone you know has known you since you were in diapers, and maybe you don’t want to be that person anymore. Maybe you want to be someone new. Maybe you want to make out with a girl named Laura.

As soon as I saw the cover of this book, I knew I would like it–the plain girl on the right who fears she’s boring, glancing at the girl on the left with the crazy hair and the confident smirk, wanting all that she is. Miriam’s heart is my heart.

This is a quick read and a relatively simple story plotwise, yet the conclusion is a bittersweet one. It’s one with no clean conclusions, proving that first loves can be just as confounding as later loves, if not more, and that for better or worse, sometimes the people we love are the same people we will never be able to truly know.

Kathleen Wheeler reviews Kung Fu Lesbian by Dan Curry

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I have to admit that I was a bit reticent to read this book at first- I mean it’s a lesbian book written by a man- what could he possibly know?  And then there are the other examples of lesbianism created by men that were floating around in my head, mostly in film: ‘Chasing Amy’ being one of the worst…’Bound’ being the best (in my experience).   But the title had me intrigued so I thought ‘What the hell, why not?’  I’m glad I did.

If you enjoy film as much as I do, perhaps you’ll appreciate this; this book read much like a movie for me.  If you’re a fan of Tarantino and Rodriguez and all the other modern day throw back filmmakers who create celluloid homages to the grindhouse, kung fu and spaghetti westerns of the 60’s and 70’s then this book is definitely for you- gay straight or otherwise.   It was as if ‘Jackie Brown (’97), ’ ‘Pulp Fiction (’94) ’ and ‘Kill Bill (‘03/’04)’ all teamed up and got it on with ‘The Human Tornado (‘76)’ and made a little lesbo book baby- with a little ‘Once Upon a Time in Mexico (’03)’ tossed in for added spice and ‘It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World (’63) for fun.   It was fast paced, smart, sexy, hilarious, and thrilling.  Curry’s use of language and history made the time come alive again and the constant barrage of colorful characters kept it from going stale as it progressed- and not in a way that made it hard to follow, just in a way that made it exciting.  I never knew what the hell was going to happen next, and something was always happening.

It starts off with a woman Holly, a badass Pam Grier lookalike with a sordid past and mad karate skills, watching her father’s dojo go up in smoke; all part of the half baked plot to get the ‘master plan’ safely out of the city where presumably Holly and her father (a.k.a. the karate man from Fillmore Street) could pull a Houdini and vanish.  But the die had been cast, the dominoes had already been set in motion and a motley crew of rogues and renegades, bandits, assassins, CIA agents and double-crossers all want the master plan for themselves- and they’re willing to do anything to get it.

Enter Heidi, Holly’s onetime-let’s-make-up-and-start-over-again lover and brainiac roller derby queen turned badass revenge exactor.   While on the run from the big bad mofos of San Francisco, Holly decides to take a swing over to Bakersfield where Heidi lives with her uber-conservative white power parents.  I don’t want to give anything away, but trouble seems to follow Holly like stink follows the trash truck and soon Heidi is on the run as much as Holly is, but for different reasons.  Thrown together now in this they team up and head on out to the wild blue yonder; this would be fine if not for the gaggle of deadly lapdogs hot on Holly’s trail and the human and situational potholes they encounter along the way.

Enter Ms. Smith, A.K.A ‘The Mormon’.  She’s a sexy good ol’ girl next door Farrah Fawcett-Majors doppelganger with a thirst for blood and violence and the skills to back it up.  Excommunicated from her super over the top and insane splinter cult (read ‘Big Love’ on steroids) she goes mercenary and is hired by the karate man’s nemesis to retrieve the master plan- whatever it takes.  Leaving a trail of death in her wake, she is bound and determined to succeed in her task, eliminating all who would stand in her way and try to take her prize.

Add to this all the other entities after our girls and the briefcase they are trying desperately to protect and you have yourself one hell of a powder keg of action.  Who to trust?  Who to kill? Everyone’s got their eye on the prize and given the chance even a ‘friend’ could turn foe.   There are drugs, sex, fast cars, dudes with guns, kick ass bitches who take no shit, The Nation [of Islam, Black Panthers], a Zionist cult, matchstick men, the feds, Satanists, bikini bandits, the cops – every seedy faction you can think of and then some- all beautifully fleshed out and playing their roles to perfection, painting the picture vividly, provoking thought and sheer enjoyment as this story unfolds (at least, for me). There are twists and turns right up to the end and nothing is finished until the final page is turned.

But this isn’t just a shoot-‘em-up, kick ‘em in the balls story about a couple of hot lezzies on the run.  No, it’s also a story about finding your true self and accepting the responsibility that comes with finally recognizing who you are and the power that comes with that.  It’s about love and strength and family- even it’s all kinds of fucked up.   It’s about the ‘70’s and the craziness that was reality at that time.  It’s about finding the perfect conditioner to keep your bangin’ ‘fro from going wooly caveman on your head.  It’s about more than all that and after reading several hundred run-of-the-mill (although totally awesome in their own right) novels this one is a refreshing standout in my mind.

It’s not a romance.  It’s not a drama or some cathartic heart string tuggin’ life lesson vehicle meant to teach you some universal truth about being a woman or a lesbian.  It’s not even what I would consider to be a lesbian book; in truth, the fact that there are lesbians at all seems tertiary to the point- just a simple fact of life and only one small part of who our main protagonists are and an even smaller plot point (although it’s treated with the utmost respect).  So if that’s what you’re looking for you’ll be disappointed.  This IS an exciting action novel with really smart and thought provoking things of its own to say, and overall a worthwhile read even if for the sake of reading something different for a change.

Kit reviews The Miseducation of Cameron Post by emily m. danforth

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The afternoon my parents died, I was out shoplifting with Irene Klauson.

Every review I’ve read of Cameron Post starts with that line. Somehow, there doesn’t seem to be any other way. It’s a flash of the voice you’re going to know better than your own by the end of 300 pages, and her sadness and guilt and agile, bright humour becomes yours for a little while.

The night Cameron’s parents died, she had also been kissing Irene Klauson. And Irene Klauson had kissed her back. Eleven years old, it’s the summer of 1989, and Cameron is certain that the knock on her friend’s door means she’s been found out—about the stealing, the kissing, all of it—and that this might mean something terrible. Cameron’s first emotion when she finds out her parents have died is one of relief. Cameron never forgives herself for that, but she still likes girls. She still likes girls even after well-intentioned Aunt Ruth moves in from Florida to be her guardian, bringing her born-again evangelical ways with her. Anyone with a basic idea of plot knows what has to happen next.

The book can then divided roughly into two parts: Before Ruth Finds Out and After Ruth Finds Out. The first is a careful, but never slow, picture of the end of Cameron’s childhood and into her adolescence. It shows how she tries to get along with her hopelessly well-meaning, often resentful aunt. We share her love of swimming; watch the gorgeous friendship she develops with Lindsey, who appoints herself Cameron’s Lesbian Guardian Angel. We watch Cameron run with friends in the ruin of old hospitals, and watch countless films as a way to see how people on screen react to grief, and life in general, because she feels as if she has no idea how to be. We watch her fall desperately, often hilariously in love with Coley Taylor, and how that, in the end, gets Cameron found out. But that is not the whole story. That is just what is sketched in the blurb, in the book trailers. The real story happens After.

After Ruth finds out, Cameron gets sent (using her own college fund) to an evangelical camp. God’s Promise.

After Promise, Cameron finds that no one is quite what they seem, and that its easy to lose yourself when everybody tells you that is the right and godly thing to do.

This section of the book goes into stranger places than what came before. Watching Cameron adjust to life in Promise, it’s unsettling—as a “liberated” outsider, and queer person, who knows that these sort of camps are reprehensible and damaging and wrong—to see how…not evil everyone is. This is clumsy, I know. But it would have been easy to write a caricature of these people, this life. Danforth does not. She refuses to condescend in that way, and it makes for challenging reading as you find you can’t help but care for everyone even as many seem to kill, like Ruth, with good intentions. The students are just people—though some, like two-year veteran Jane who keeps a store of home-grown pot in her prosthetic leg, are more vividly drawn then others. Reverend Rick, the founder of Promise who has no head for business and a gift for the guitar, seems to genuinely care about the wellbeing of his “charges”. Many  seem to want to be ‘cured’, and don’t seem brainwashed in the least (and yet, and yet, and yet!). Danforth’s writing does not help, here. It is smooth and nonjudgmental, even as, in the end, terrible things do start to happen, and Cameron makes an important choice.

This was a beautiful, unsettling read for me. There were many parts of The Miseducation of Cameron Post that, due to my own upbringing and sensibility, I could not understand, ranging from life in a Montana farming community to Cameron’s relationship with God. This book was, however, slice of life fiction in the best possible sense. If I didn’t understand, then Cameron (mostly) did, and it was a strange, often hilarious time, being in her life for a little while. This story is both passionate and compassionate, with some of the best first person narration Ive ever read. I know that with re-reading, I can get even more out of Cameron’s life.
In the end, I would recommend it for any child who has felt alone, and any adult who has been a child.

[The Miseducation of Cameron Post has also been reviewed at the Lesbrary by Anna M. and Danika.]

Kit reviews Huntress by Malinda Lo

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Huntress / Malinda Lo

Little Brown and Company, 2011

If you could change your fate…would you?

Argh, wait. Wrong story.

At its heart, all the same, Malinda Lo’s Huntress is a beautifully written, sometimes strangely distant story that tackles fate, free will, and the joy of a journey.

Two girls study at The Academy—a wrought-iron centre of learning at the edge of The Kingdom. We meet them in alternate POV chapters. The first, Taisin, is a farmer’s daughter, and so skilled at Sage craft—the spiritual/quasi magical order at the heart of the Academy’s learning—that she is considered the most talented of her generation. Taisin cares little for that. She has just wanted to be a Sage her whole life, and is prepared to take the necessary vows to do so. These vows include celibacy. Kaede, the daughter of the King’s Chancellor, has always struggled with the rituals of the Academy. She is too wilful; too fierce, and too protective of herself, to be any other way. She feels rather lost in the Academy as she works through her last year, knowing that her father will marry her off for political gain one way or another, and that she is running out of time. (There hasn’t, a friend reminds her early on the novel, been a political union between two women in recent memory).

The Kingdom, meanwhile, is falling to pieces around them. Crops wither, people starve, and a strange, lingering winter encroaches upon the land. When the King receives an envoy from the long-closed off fairy realm of Taninli, with possible clues to the end of this winter, Taisin also experiences the clearest vision of her life: she will be going somewhere far, and icy, and strange. Kaede will be going with her. And Taisin is in love with her.

How do you look someone in the eye when you know you’re meant to fall in love with them, but haven’t yet? Huntress is very delicate as it examines this question, and its companion themes of whether love compromises or aids duty. Taisin’s chapters are full of quiet frustration and questions and confusion, while Kaede—who spends much of the book blessedly unaware of her companion’s anguish—learns skills out in the wilderness with a few friends that she could not have picked up in her father’s home or her old school. I loved the strength—the capability—of both these girls. It shows early and never falters, as the two of them embark on one of the better-written quest narratives I’ve read. There is inclement weather; changeling babies; flirting and jealousy and daggers and stunningly well handled exposition. By the end of the road, you feel like you know every character well, but never like that knowledge has thrown at you. Taninli (which, along with The Wood, will be familiar to readers of Ash, Lo’s debut novel that is set in this world some centuries later) is as fascinating, imbued with Tír na nÓg allusions as much as the Academy and Kaede’s city of Cathair are imbued with Chinese folklore and philosophy. The two women themselves, with their non-romantic Prince Companion and bantering coterie of guards, feel like a link between these two different scaffolds. I think the best example of this fusion is in the name of the fairy folk themselves: Xi—which, at least phonetically, reads as a Chinese transliteration of sidhe.

My linguistic ramblings are digression, however. It’s easy to find something to love in Huntress. I found myself looking rather sidelong at the love-story between Kaede and Taisin, no matter how much I love simple queer representation in fiction (not a spoiler! Predestination!) precisely because it was hard to separate myself out from Taisin’s initial near-panic about it. But what does develop between the near-Sage and growing-Warrior is still beautiful, often humorous, and real. The warmth and strength of this relationship lingers with you, just under your skin, and I found that I adored it. The ending (oh god, that ending) feels right—though I dare not spoil it, and people may disagree with me.

As strong as the character development is, the physical world-building (with the exception of the Academy, Wood, and Taninli) is less well done. The map at the beginning does not make The Kingdom’s geography. The path of Taisin and Kaede’s quest, for all the place names and descriptions of taverns, and snow and flowers and hills, never really feels set. I had a similar problem with Ash when I read it, though less so, since Ash was a retelling of Cinderella and often in more ephemeral, fae places than Huntress, for all its otherworldly ending. As a quest story, it would have been good to see where the characters were going, along with what was happening inside their heads. This feeling of disconnect was the only thing that stopped me from being utterly infatuated with the novel.