The latest P.C. Hodgell novel, which I've been gasping for. It is, alas, something of a middle book. But still full of Jame apologetically breaking things.
. . . I had no idea that existed yet. Wow.
Everything since Seeker's Mask has felt like a middle book to me. I imprinted very hard on God Stalk somewhere before age thirteen; Dark of the Moon was one of the first sequels I encountered that radically opened out the world, deepening and darkening it, full of things that I still find very beautiful and terrifying (Anarchies, I'm looking at you). I remain pleased with myself for calling Kindrie as the third of the Tyr-ridan as soon as we got his anecdote about accidentally reanimating a sheepskin coat. I ordered the hardcover Hypatia editions of Blood and Ivory and Dark of the Moon off the internet in the far-off days of 1994. And then I have been progressively frustrated with the series, which seem to be taking very short blocks of time for a lot of things to rush around in, unlike the controlled scope of a year in Tai-tastigon, a month in Rathillien, or even the stormy, weird-ass hero's journey week of Seeker's Mask. (I cannot remember where I saw it anymore, but a newsgroup shortly after the release of Seeker's Mask predicted that the as yet unnamed fourth book would have to be the Ulysses of the series, with Jame rising at Tentir at dawn and bringing the entire college accidentally down around her by midnight.) Nothing since those first two has had quite the heft or edge or dark richness, and I don't think it's merely the effect of no longer being adolescent when I read them. I keep hoping, though.
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. . . I had no idea that existed yet. Wow.
Everything since Seeker's Mask has felt like a middle book to me. I imprinted very hard on God Stalk somewhere before age thirteen; Dark of the Moon was one of the first sequels I encountered that radically opened out the world, deepening and darkening it, full of things that I still find very beautiful and terrifying (Anarchies, I'm looking at you). I remain pleased with myself for calling Kindrie as the third of the Tyr-ridan as soon as we got his anecdote about accidentally reanimating a sheepskin coat. I ordered the hardcover Hypatia editions of Blood and Ivory and Dark of the Moon off the internet in the far-off days of 1994. And then I have been progressively frustrated with the series, which seem to be taking very short blocks of time for a lot of things to rush around in, unlike the controlled scope of a year in Tai-tastigon, a month in Rathillien, or even the stormy, weird-ass hero's journey week of Seeker's Mask. (I cannot remember where I saw it anymore, but a newsgroup shortly after the release of Seeker's Mask predicted that the as yet unnamed fourth book would have to be the Ulysses of the series, with Jame rising at Tentir at dawn and bringing the entire college accidentally down around her by midnight.) Nothing since those first two has had quite the heft or edge or dark richness, and I don't think it's merely the effect of no longer being adolescent when I read them. I keep hoping, though.