"The Price You Pay Is Red is a mystery about what happened to Snow, but it’s also a mystery about who she really was and why she really did the things she did.
That’s the kind of mystery that doesn’t exactly come with any easy answers, but hey, that’s Spindle City for you. If you’re looking for easy, you’re in the wrong town." ...more
When I first thought about how to I could describe Tooth and Claw in a way that trulyOriginally reviewed on The Book Smugglers
REVIEW
Ana's Take
When I first thought about how to I could describe Tooth and Claw in a way that truly conveyed its level of awesomeness, I could only think of: “it’s a Jane Austenesque novel with Dragons. Cannibal Dragons”. On second thought though, although that line does more or less captures the gist of it, it is not quite right. Tooth and Claw is, after all, more Victorian than Regency.
Eating each other is at the centre of this society – it’s what dragons fear the most, and what they most look forward to. Dragon meat is not only delicious but so nutritious as to make whoever digests it literally bigger. The bigger the dragon, the stronger it is and the more important in the grander social scheme of things. But of course, only dragons who are already significant (in terms of their size and in their social standing) manage to eat other dragons. It’s a vicious circle that seems impossible to break. The “why” is also important: weaklings, sickly and older dragons are eaten so that the race can be bettered (and so that other dragons have enough dragon meat to go on) and dead dragon’s meat is divided between the members of their families according to a Will that stipulates the amount that each family member will devour or depending on - again – social standing.
The novel opens with Bon Agornin’s on his deathbed and his devastated family getting ready to eat his remains. There is the matter of an expressed Will in which the bulk of his remains is to be divided between his three youngest children Avan (who lives and works in the city), Selendra and Haner (both young maidens). But his expressed wishes are contested by his ambitious son-in-law, who wins the argument and takes a greater portion. The three younger dragons – who have already lost their father, their home and who have little gold to their name –are now unable to even grow on their expected inheritance. This precipitates one of the main arcs in the book, as Avan decides to sue his brother-in-law.
And that’s what makes Tooth and Claw a delight: it is about bloody dragons, who might eat each other but please, let’s all be proper about it, and follow the rules and wear the right hats (ha, dragons wearing hats).
Because propriety and order rule this world, and the social structure of their society is set in stone and hardly questioned. There is extreme importance given to being a maiden and women’s lives can be ruined in one single moment. Those in service have no expectations other than remain in service until they die (or get eaten) and those who are male and rich can basically get away with anything. And in a way, it is all very familiar except for how far the author takes those. So a maiden is no longer a maiden when she blushes: a mere touch by a non-family member will do it and her new pink colour is a sign for all to see. The dragons who work in service cannot fly, their wings bound, their movements restricted.
Tooth and Claw is a novel where the word literally has a whole new meaning (figuratively, speaking of course). It is a very interesting exploration of familiar themes of gender and class oppression in a way that makes that oppression literally visible (although not necessarily more real).
It is not all seriousness, blood and guts though, for Tooth and Claw is also a comedy of manners! With a delightful omniscient narrator and a focus on the three youngest Agornins and their lives. Avan who is a nice chap who shares his life with a young female dragon who is not a maiden making their association a complicated thing. Selendra and Haner are both in the marriage market, each learning to stand on their own feet after being separated into very two different households. There is a clear divide between the structured, inflexible older generation and this new generation full of forward-thinking ideas.
And there is even - yes, I think I shall use the word - swoonworthy romance and awesome relationships. And this is where the novel is at its most Jane Austenesque as Selendra and Haner have a little bit of all Jane Austen heroines in them. Plus, there is a male dragon called Sher that ….I shall say no more, dear reader. Some delights are better experienced without advance notice.
Tooth and Claw is as close to perfect a book can be. I loved it.
Thea's Take:
I am at a loss when it comes to attempting to describe Tooth and Claw. Allow me take Ana's words, to emphasize the awesome: Tooth and Claw is absolutely Jane Austen-esque, but with dragons. Take the social mores, the gender roles and restrictions, the foibles of Austen's work, but blend that with cannibalistic dragons with their own laws of propriety and social strata - then and only then will you get even a close approximation to Tooth and Claw.
For me, the strongest and most compelling part of the novel (the first I've had the pleasure of reading from Jo Walton) is its worldbuilding. This is a world strikingly similar to Regency England (well, yaknow, if society comprised dragons exclusively) - there are lords and ladies, daughters who must rely on their dowries in order to make a good match and thrive in society. There are servants and pastors and those born into money and status, just as there are those who must fight tooth and claw (oho!) for their way in the world. But, unlike Regency England, in this society, weakness - green colored dragons, small dragons, ailing little children, or the elderly, or the oppressed - equates to instant death. Those dragons deemed too weak to live will be killed and immediately eaten by others, their lifeforce fueling the dining dragon's size and power.
Oh, yes, there is magic too, for these are talking dragons and flying dragons. And for all that they are civilized creatures with a hierarchical society mimics an oft romanticized period in human history, they are also dragons. They dine on raw flesh and on each other, adding a level of frightening alien-ness to this particular world. The most fascinating aspect of the particular world, to me? The "blush" of dragon females when they are leaned on by male dragons - it's a terrifying and fascinating physical manifestation of "impure" females that examines agency and choice in such a smart, brilliant way through these female dragons. When Selendra is accosted by the amorous advances of an old family friend who professes his love for Selendra and intends to make her his bride, she turns from maiden gold to bridal pink - to her great horror, for she refuses his advances. To society, a pink dragon is one that has accepted the embrace of a male, and if not affianced, such a dragoness is ruined (and likely eaten later).
In many ways, Tooth and Claw is a kind of explication of our own world, a hyperbolic reflection of the flaws in our history and society. The concept of absurd creatures exposing the flaws is a familiar one (see Amberville, or any number of robot/zombie/vampire type fiction), Walton's choice of dragons is, frankly, unparalleled. I cannot think of a book that does it better.
My only criticism of the novel is how leisurely and meandering it is - and this is not exactly a bad thing. Not every book needs to be a white-knuckle thrill ride, and Tooth and Claw is definitely more of a beautiful scenic tour than a roller coaster. I loved the characters, and I loved the story of their lives that unfolds following their esteemed father's death. I only wish there was more of a force driving the novel forward. As Ana and I discussed when thinking about this book, my only issue with Tooth and Claw can be boiled down to the same reason I *love* Jane Austen's books so much: the heroines. I love the heroines in Austen's work - from Lizzie to Emma to Anne to Marianne and Elinor. Tooth and Claw is very much in the spirit of Marianne and Elinor Dashwood (both of whom I love dearly)... but while sisters Selendra and Hanner (and Berend! Who actually was my favorite of the sisters) are wonderful characters, I didn't fall in love with them the same way that I root wholeheartedly for an Austin heroine. If that makes any sense at all.
Ultimately, Tooth and Claw is a brilliant, beautiful book. I loved it and highly recommend it - and I cannot wait to read more from Jo Walton very, very soon....more
I was forewarned by friends and readers. I have read – and loved – a couple of other books by the author. So it’s not like I didnA THOUSAND STARS!
Wow.
I was forewarned by friends and readers. I have read – and loved – a couple of other books by the author. So it’s not like I didn’t know the odds this would be good but this book? It blew my mind away. In its epilogue, Terry Pratchett says:
Thinking. This book contains some.
And that’s true: this is one of the most think-y books I have ever read. I loved it with every fibre of my being.
Nation is a book of ideas. Its main theme, that of construction and creation: the construction of a home, of a family, of rules, tradition and religion. It is about those building blocks of civilisation itself and of individuals, in a way that is both extremely rational and enormously emotional. Writing that line just now makes me realise how weird that might sound to those who haven’t read the book. Above all it makes me think about how hard it is to pull something like this off and to keep a balance between what drives a story and the story itself without making a book about ideas, a book that is solely about ideas. If that makes any sense at all – I am finding it extremely hard to write this review because how do you describe perfection? Especially when it’s so affecting?
Nation is a book about creation.
It starts with the destruction of everything one of its main characters knows.
There is a small island in the Great Southern Pelagic Ocean in a world very much like ours (but not quite) where young boys go through a ceremony where they shed their boy-souls to gain their man-souls. Mau is on the Boy’s Island and is about to cross over to the main island to become a man when the big wave comes. He survives it but when he goes ashore to his home, to the Nation, he discovers everything he knows and everyone he loves has been washed away. His first action is to build a spear: “Without fire and a spear, you could never hope to be a man, wasn’t that right?”. But soulless Mau is all alone and nobody answers him.
All alone that is, but for Daphne, a young girl who was aboard the Sweet Judy ship, whose wrecked remains are now part of the Nation. They are different because their background, their language, their traditions are dissimilar. They are equals because they share this tragedy and because they are both thinkers. Together, they work to survive and to create a home for those who slowly start to come to the Nation in search of a haven after unspeakable tragedy.
First comes an old man, a priest who wants things to be kept as they always were and whose unquestioned belief in their Gods remains unshaken. With him, a young sickly woman with a newborn baby who is barely moving and can hardly feed. Everybody’s immediate response is to fall back into the roles they have always known: if the mother cannot feed her baby, the only one who can help is of course, the other female, Daphne. Except Daphne – a young girl raised by a grandmother who believes young ladies should be Proper – doesn’t even know how babies are made. Mau does what must be done in order to keep the baby alive. Hilarity ensues when he milks a wild pig but also: enlightenment for both Daphne and Mau. Women are not born knowing how to care for babies. Things that appear deep seated gender-led knowledge are not. A man’s soul is not created magically because one crosses from one island to another.
So, first comes destruction. Then, deconstruction: little by little, both characters observe this new world and question the old one in search of answers. It is a kind of stripping down to one’s very core in order to understand. But it is a stripping down without letting go of the past completely because the rules are there. So Mau is walking around the island and he hears the Grandfathers’ voices telling him what to do, to follow their traditions, not question their religion, otherwise there is no order. As much as Daphne abhors her grandmother’s voice inside her head telling her to be Quiet and Proper, she keeps listening to it non-stop. Motivation counts too and Mau is angry. He is angry at the Gods and that leads him to question their very existence. Daphne is not moved by religion at all but by Science. There is sympathy and compassion toward other characters and those find their own balance and their own way of surviving.
In a way, a wave came but they are not completely marooned because they have Tradition. But does Tradition serve them at this time of need or is that now an impediment? How important is it to keep going as it “has always been”? Or is this yet another misconception about the world? Slowly: the understanding that those are internalised voices and that questioning is good. To understand the HOW is all the more important: history becomes religion becomes tradition becomes internal rules living inside one’s head.
Then, forging and building. Mau and Daphne build themselves up and their thoughts are the roots on which they build a new Nation. And they do that by means of Scientific Method.
And that is accomplished in a story that is moving, sad, hopeful and funny. Mau and Daphne have hilarious misunderstandings before they lean to communicate. Their community is built and deep connections are formed between people. A new Nation is born out of the old and people still have parties, drink beer, laugh, love, pray and look at the sky.
Also: parallel universes.
I don’t know how my reading of this particular book has been affected by the fact that I am new to Terry Pratchett’s main oeuvre but this to me, was simply wonderful. Interestingly enough, limited as my Terry Pratchett experience might be, I found Nation to be slightly different in tone (not as funny) to the other books I have read from the author but exactly the same in how smart it is.
Nation is a rich and intricate novel. Yes ,it does have an obvious message about the power and importance of thinking, but this never overwhelms the characters or the story. I understood this very well when I started crying when the book was over. Plus, the epilogue is a wonderful gift from an author who truly understands his readers.
This book spoke to me in a deeply personal level and I can’t recommend it enough....more
"The problem with my life was that it was someone else’s idea."
It’s funny how just the other day I was talking about writing craft, the combination o "The problem with my life was that it was someone else’s idea."
It’s funny how just the other day I was talking about writing craft, the combination of skill and care that is so important when putting together a story and how certain books unfortunately fail in every conceivable way.
It is possible that Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe is the antithesis to every single terrible book I’ve read lately. In fact, Aristotle and Dante is the kind of book that gives me hope that the universe might be still be an ok place to live, that publishing is not only a heartless business but also a place where craft still survives and good stories live on. You just need to be able to find them.
And what a find Aristotle and Dante turned out to be.
It’s the story of two friends, Ari and Dante, who meet when they are fifteen, during a summer of utter boredom. Their friendship is a balancing act: sweet and tender, playful and serious, full of intellectual interactions and questioning about life, the universe and everything. It is a beautiful story of friendship – although their friendship does eventually develop into an AWESOME romantic relationship that comes from falling in love with a person you already love so much. I like just-friends story and they are so important but Ari and Dante’s friends-to-lovers story felt so right there is no resentment from this reader.
I wanted to tell them that I’d never had a friend, not ever, not a real one. Until Dante. I wanted to tell them that I never knew that people like Dante existed in the world, people who looked at the stars, and knew the mysteries of water, and knew enough to know that birds belonged to the heavens and weren’t meant to be shot down from their graceful flights by mean and stupid boys. I wanted to tell them that he had changed my life and that I would never be the same, not ever. And that somehow it felt like it was Dante who had saved my life and not the other way around. I wanted to tell them that he was the first human being aside from my mother who had ever made me want to talk about the things that scared me. I wanted to tell them so many things and yet I didn’t have the words. So I just stupidly repeated myself. “Dante’s my friend.”
The story is narrated by Ari and it’s his point of view that colours the narrative. Ari is a loner who likes to wallow in its loneliness and who is in a state of constant anger: at the secrets his family keeps from him, at his father for not being open and talkative. Dante is in a way, his opposite: quick to laugh and play, an artist and philosopher as well as a crier. Except as it turns out, they are not so different after all – and soon Ari learns to love poetry and philosophy and words whilst still being the same questioning, angry Ari (it takes him some time to learn that boys can cry too). The letting go of this anger (for a myriad of reasons) is one of the driving points of the novel and one that comes with a series of moments of self-discovery and life-discovery. It’s very interesting too the way that Ari’s narrative is somewhat unreliable although not on purpose because it is very clear that Ari represses his feelings and don’t tell us how he truly feels about certain things because he doesn’t know them either – but his actions speak more than a thousand words.
Aristotle and Dante is a smart, intelligent, engaging coming-of-age story and a deep, thoughtful exploration of identity and sexuality. It turns out that both Ari and Dante are gay although it takes Ari the whole book to come to terms with it, whereas Dante is much more conformable in his own skin when it comes to his sexual identity. But there are other sides of who they are that are also thoughtfully examined here: both are Mexican-Americans and both ask themselves what does that even mean.
“Maybe I’ll just mown lawns.” “That’s imaginative” “Too Mexican for you, mom?” “No. Just too unreliable.” “Flipping burgers. That’s reliable. Not very imaginative, but reliable. Come to think of it, it’s the perfect job for me. I’m reliable and imaginative.” She shook her head. “ Are you going to spend your life beating up on yourself?” “You’re right. Maybe I will take the summer off.” “You’re in high school, Ari. You’re not looking for a profession. You’re just looking for a way to earn some money. You’re in transition.” “In transition? What kind of a Mexican mother are you?” “I am an educated woman. That doesn’t un-Mexicanize me, Ari.” She sounded a little angry. I loved her anger and wished I had more of it. Her anger was different than mine or my father’s. Her anger didn’t paralize her.
Both Ari and Dante are on the threshold of adulthood and the book is sublimely competent in evidencing those moments when you are trying to define who you are as well as who you want to be and how teenagers feel the need to be treated like people. There is family history and influencing, social restrictions and expectations of what a man should be, violence and bigotry as well as love and acceptance and thematically speaking, this is a book that hits all the right spots. Every character is fantastically portrayed and I just loved how this is also a book about families, about relating to them and especially how finding out who you are does not stop when you become an adult, it is an ever evolving narrative of your own life. There is a lot of care given here to Ari and Dante’s parents as well.
All of that put forth in a way that blew my mind away. Here is where I go back to the issue of writing craft. Because this book? It’s beautifully, impeccably written. The writing is very straightforward, simple and concise. BUT never ever simplistic and one gets the feeling that every word is chosen very precisely, very carefully to create a profoundly affecting story with an intricate narrative. It is a book that trusts its readers too – no pandering here – and there are pages and pages of pure dialogue where the reader must fill the gaps.
This amazing writing skill is also present in terms of “voice”. The story follows the two boys for two years, and the narrative voice matures just as much as the two do – Ari and Dante start very young-sounding and immature then as the story progresses they both sound older.
I think the best thing I can say about the book is how I can see Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe as a book that can be picked for a lit class to be dissected for its craft and examined for its themes BUT only after the reader is able to recover from becoming a blubbering mess of FEELINGS and ensuing powerlessness to form coherent thoughts all because they identify so much with the story.
Aristotle and Dante discovered more than the secrets of the universe – they also discovered the secrets to my reading heart. ...more
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