Allow me, if you will, to show you a picture from a few weeks ago of one of my bookshelves:
Direct your attention to the upper left of that picture. Now look at this:
I’ve made this distinction before: my wife reads a lot too, right? Not as much as I do, but more than most people. My wife and I are both readers, but I have a second hobby, which is that I collect books. My wife distinctly and definitely does not collect books. We would be in desperate trouble if she did. She buys perhaps a couple a year and most of the time exists off of rereads and reading books I’ve bought.
I feel like I’ve crossed a line lately.
I’ve never really liked the covers to the Red Rising books, particularly the specific ones I own. If you look really closely at the dust jackets in the top cover you’ll notice a couple of small tears in Golden Son and a rub mark in the bottom of Iron Gold, both signs that I got the books from Amazon, because I wouldn’t have bought them from a physical store with flaws in them. Those awesome covers are not new books– I actually special-ordered custom dust jackets from Juniper Books to replace the original dust jackets on my hardcovers. Which I’m keeping, of course, although I’m not entirely sure why.
I’ve found myself really tempted by special editions of books I already own lately, too, especially if their original covers annoyed me in some way. For example, I think whoever is responsible for this abomination should be literally pilloried:
…and, as it turns out, there’s site called the Broken Binding that offers these fucking beautiful bastards, at the low low cost of $150 for four books I already own:
And, Goddammit, I’m tempted. Sorely tempted. I just kicked ass at work and I feel like I can justify rewarding myself, but shit, that’s a lot of money, for something just to look better on a shelf, which … feels unreasonable, even to me?
I dunno. My birthday’s July 5?
(I also keep almost ordering this hat, not because I think it would look good on me but because the model in the picture is rocking it, and I feel like maybe ordering clothing I can’t wear because it makes a different human look good is maybe a sign that having a small amount of discretionary money is starting to get to me. Can I just shift into Saves Money Guy for a few years, please? Enough for a decent emergency fund, or at least to pay for the new fucking computer I’m probably going to need soon without putting it on a card?)
(We won’t talk about how much of my money Lego is currently trying, and failing, to take from me.)
On one hand, this picture is slightly misleading, because I’m only about 50 pages into The Will of the Many and it’s a doorstop. On the other hand, I also read Laura Samotin’s The Sins on Their Bones and it’s not in the picture because it’s an ebook. So we’ll call it even.
Book of the Month is me having a stroke because I have no idea what the Book of the Month should be. This was a great set of books.
Yes, that’s right, three book reviews in three days, although this one is going to be shorter. Rin Chupeco is kind of a known quantity around here; this is the … sixth? of their books that I’ve read, and I’ve enjoyed all of them and at least one or two have made my end-of-year list. And, honestly, Silver Under Nightfall sat on my unread shelf for long enough that by the time I picked it up to read it I’d forgotten what the hell it was about.
And, honestly, I may never have known what it was about– it’s possible that I just ordered the damn thing on reflex because of 1) that cover (my god, that cover) and 2) Rin Chupeco. Again, known quantity. I buy Rin Chupeco books. It’s a thing I do.
It’s, uh, about vampires? And a bisexual vampire hunter who falls in love with both members of an engaged outwardly-cishet vampire couple? And there is so, so much sex that I promise you is nowhere to be found in the Bible, and that’s three super queer books in a row now. And I’m sorry, but “vampire hunter who falls in love with some vampires” should absolutely have led to me putting this book down, never looking at it again, and quietly looking down on anyone who said good things about it. I’m tired of vampires. I’m tired of vampire books. I’m definitely tired of vampire books where the vampires are irresistible and fuck everything. At least there are no werewolves, I suppose? Yet?
Finished the fucker in a day. Reflected on just how different Chupeco’s writing style is in this book compared to everything else they’ve written. Looked up the sequel. Got mad that the sequel wasn’t available in paperback yet, since my copy of Silver is in paperback. Spent ninety fucking dollars on the absolutely fucking breathtaking Illumicrate editions, which will probably take so long to get here that the paperback will be out by then anyway.
This is going to be One of Those Reviews, I think. I am beginning this review at 7:30 PM on Saturday, which, you will notice, was yesterday. You may have noticed that yesterday-which-for-me-is-still-today’s post is also a book review.
I am writing the second book review of the day because I woke up this morning, read the last two hundred pages of To Cage a God, wrote a review, ate lunch, took a shower, and then read The Sins on Their Bones fucking cover-to-cover in what wasn’t quite a literal single sitting but may as well have been. The eArc I read was four hundred and eighteen pages. I read the entire book in roughly six hours, less if you deduct a couple of pee breaks, some light web surfing and doom scrolling, and a few pieces of frozen pizza for dinner.
The real miracle? I don’t have a physical copy of this book. I’ve read plenty of books in a single sitting before. I don’t think I’ve ever done that with an ebook. Like, literally never. This is the first time.
I also paused to order the book from Amazon, because I got sent this by a publicist in return for a review, and I don’t actually have a physical copy. It comes out May 7th.
You may be wondering what I meant by “one of those reviews” in the first paragraph, there. Here’s the thing: This book started out as an uh-oh, developed into something I was grudgingly respecting, and then moved into fuck it, five stars territory by ending very well. I’ll get into what it’s actually about in a few minutes but it’s very much the type of book that if I talk about too much you’ll think I hated it. I did not! I liked it a lot. But all of the interesting things I have to say about it are gonna feel like gripes. I’m annoying that way sometimes.
But let’s talk about To Cage a God for a second more, because, completely by accident, this book echoes that one quite a lot. Both are set in a proto-Russian setting, with roughly eighteenth- or nineteenth-century technology (guns are mentioned in Bones, but don’t really belong on the cover) and both are mostly about a plot to remove an unjust ruler. Both have substantial gay representation; both have magic, although we’ll get to talking about Sins on their Bones’ magic in a bit. The good guys even get into the bad guys’ palace at the end with more or less the exact same deception, which is one bloody odd coincidence. For a while, I was genuinely concerned that reading both of them in one day was poisoning my opinion of Bones, but as I said: once it heats up it heats up fast.
Let’s go back to the queer representation: I feel bad about complaining about this, but Sins on Their Bones might actually have too much, as I’m pretty sure that literally every character in the book with a speaking role is queer, including two tzars and the entire surviving court of the deposed one. One character gets to give a whole speech about being asexual. I did not notice any trans characters but the rest of the book is so gay that I genuinely think I probably missed an obvious clue somewhere; I refuse to believe everyone in this book is cisgendered. There’s a throwaway line at the end of the book about someone receiving a ton of marriage proposals from across the continent, implying that every other ruling family is super gay too. And there’s a point where someone has to convince a side character who has barely appeared in the book at all that they knew each other as kids, and he tells her that he remembers her first crush, which was on another girl, because of course it was.
And, like, the main character is the deposed tzar, who is married to the guy who deposed him, and he and his court are in hiding for most of the book. He’s very mopey about it. You’ve seen Monty Python’s Holy Grail, right? Remember the bit with the prince in the castle who just wanted to sing? Imagine that guy was the tzar of Russia, only instead of singing, he wanted to have sex with his husband. That’s the vibe for a lot of the book. He snaps out of it eventually, but he’s very sad for basically the whole first half. Also drunk. And the interactions between the main group of characters really don’t feel like an exiled potentate and his court. They’re more like a bunch of grad students in a polycule. At one point they go to a magic library– the magic library is probably my favorite part of the book and I would gleefully read an entire book about Aleksandr, the librarian, and his disembodied head coffee table, and no, I’m not explaining that. But they go to the magic library and they’re sitting in a room listening to the librarian talk and one character sits on another one’s lap. There’s a bit where they’re expositing at each other early in the book and three of them are basically lying in a cuddlelump on the floor.
I don’t know any kings and I definitely don’t know any tzars but I feel like typically the word “cuddlelump” doesn’t get applied to them often. And from now on whenever I think about Cabinet meetings I’m going to imagine Pete Buttigieg walking in and confidently sitting on Merrick Garland’s lap, and none of you can stop me.
Also, everybody’s Jewish, except they aren’t, and I don’t know how I feel about that. Now, Jewish mysticism and Jewish magic are a thing, and they are fascinating, and I have read several really goddamn good books that take inspiration from Kabbalah. The phrase “inspired by Jewish mysticism” was half of what got me to jump at the chance to read this early. But the word “Jewish” doesn’t show up anywhere in this book, and the place names are all clearly drawn from real places in Russia, and it’s not like it’s a pastiche on Judaism, these folks are Ashkenazi Jewish. They’re praying in Hebrew and wearing prayer shawls and the names of God play a big role and churches are called shuls and there are angels whose names are clearly only barely modified from their Biblical equivalents, and it’s so obviously Judaism that it’s really weird to me that the author didn’t just make them Jewish. There are literal Bible quotes scattered around, just without actual chapter and verse references. I mean, there wasn’t ever a Jewish tzar of Russia, but there wasn’t a gay tzar of Russia either, nor did the gay Jewish tzar of Russia have a nonbinary person and an asexual person and a bisexual person and the fourth person was probably the trans person and I didn’t catch it, in their inner court. If we’re gonna go with homonormative 18th century Russia, we can also have homonormative 18th century Russian Jews.
I dunno. The author is Jewish, and I’m not, and I’m not, like, offended by it or anything, but I feel like you can only draw so much “inspiration” from Jewish mysticism before you have to just admit that everybody is an actual Jewish mystic. Like, the big plan to stop the bad guy at the end, and I’m not going to get more specific because spoilers? I know exactly where that came from.
Also, and this is probably just me being petty, but the evil tzar is called “Moy Tzar” nearly every time he’s referred to in the book and there is no other Russian anywhere, and it’s italicized each and every time, and … blech.
So like I said: I have lots of gripes, but … six hours. One sitting. On an ebook. Which I then spent real money to get a physical copy of. I have not quite gone so far as to put this on my end-of-year list, but we’ll see how I feel about it in a week. Go pre-order it, and you can read it on May 7th.
“I don’t understand reviews sometimes,” he said, as the first sentence of his book review.
I have received two books through my new Illumicrate subscription– one, Fathomfolk, was already on my radar, but Elizabeth May’s To Cage a God was a book I’d never heard of by an author I’d never heard of. Which sounds like snark, but I hope it’s obvious that it isn’t– there are lots and lots of books, as it turns out! Anyway, I looked it up on Goodreads when I was ready to start it, and … well, it didn’t look hopeful. Generally anything under a 3.5 is going to be a rocky road, and this is at 3.3 right now. Sometimes that happens solely because a book is written by a woman or a person of color, though, or– God forbid– features women or people of color, or The Gays, so it’s not always a useful metric, but it’s usually a fair bet that an aggregate score under 3.5 is going to be a mixed read at best.
I’m happy to say, having read the book, that I don’t have any idea what the hell the reviewers are on about on this one. This book is indeed written by a woman, and does feature The Gays, but scanning through the reviews didn’t immediately produce any reviews that appeared to be the result of a pile-on or a Neanderthal eruption, so I just stopped looking and stopped worrying about it.
To Cage a God is a political thriller wrapped up in an intriguing magic system with a dollop of romantasy on top, and at its best moments it reminded me of something that Lisbeth Campbell might have written. And, honestly, this book and The Vanished Queen have a lot in common, and although To Cage a God has the romantasy aspect and tilts just a bit more toward YA than Queen does, if you enjoy one you’ll likely enjoy the other.
I want to talk about that magic system for a bit, though, because it’s super cool. All of the POV characters are part of a conspiracy against the Evil Empress (not actually her name, but it’s more fun to call her that) and all of them have different motivations and abilities that they bring to the revolution. Magic abilities in this world are granted by literally– and, it’s implied at least, physically, take a close look at the cover– imprisoning a dragon inside your body, and dragons are gods. The book uses the words pretty interchangeably, but the gods have teeth and claws and move around and are not remotely beyond inflicting pain on their hosts if they feel like it. In fact, one character’s god hates her and she has to more or less practice blood magic in order to convince it to do anything. The gods also have opinions about each other, and at least one relationship in the book is driven by mutual attraction of the gods as much as the humans involved. It’s really cool, and I’m looking forward to more exploration of the idea in the conclusion to the series, which I believe is currently planned as a duology but stands really well by itself. All of this stands against the background of a war with another nation that is talked about but never appears on the page, so I assume the sequel will delve into figuring out what to do with the new political status quo at the end of the book.
I have some minor gripes– the Evil Empress is a bit much, but in a sort of delightful way– one can imagine Glenn Close or Angelina Jolie just devouring scenery by the handful while playing this character, and the book as a whole is a little tropey, but tropes become tropes because when they’re well done they’re effective, and they are. It’s always nice to pick a book effectively at random and be rewarded by it, and I didn’t even pick this one, so it’s a genuine pleasure to be able to recommend it. I’ve ordered the non-Illumicrate hardback so that I have something to match the sequel on the shelf when it comes out. You don’t need to buy two copies, but definitely check it out.
If you’ve been around here for any length of time– five days would do it– you have certainly seen at least a variant of this picture, my four Nice Bookshelves that are in my living room and are currently dedicated at least mostly to series fiction. The bottom shelves are an exception, partially, but whatever.
A few weeks ago I discovered what I thought was a spectacular sale at the furniture store I worked at– not quite, but almost, half off of these exact same bookshelves. So this has happened:
Hello, Gideon. Hello, The Boy’s toes.
So we’re back to having seven bookshelves in this room again, which I … think is probably the end of it, because of the extra room the sectional takes up compared to the sofa we had before? But who knows. At any rate, these are not precisely identical to the bookshelves we had before, because they weren’t on sale– these come unassembled, and that’s why they were cheaper. That rather tedious process has been my job for the last few days. That said, once put together, they look identical, and they’re quite solidly put together as well– these are absolutely not Wal-Mart $40 specials like the other bookshelves in the house and I have no reason to not believe they’ll last just as long as the ones we spent more money on.
We used my wife’s nice big new car to deliver a shitton of styrofoam and cardboard to our local recycling/hazardous waste facility today and I’ve got all the shelves where I want them. I have two days of vacation left and by the time school starts back up I want my books organized properly again. Right now the theme is “only fiction in the living room” and “only nonfiction in the library … other than the leatherbounds,” but we’ll see.
I’ll post more pictures once everything is properly organized.
From the “I’d have two nickels, but it’s weird that it happened twice” department: Between Kyne Santos, who wrote this really awesome fucking book, and a simply outstanding TikTok account called Carrie the One, I follow two different math-based drag queen accounts on social media, or at least I did before I killed off my TikTok account. I say an awful lot that you already know from the title and the cover whether you want to read this book or not, but let’s be real here: a book about math written by a drag queen might be the ultimate “you already know if you want to read this” book, and to be honest this is less of a review than a notification that this book exists, and you might have missed it, and if the notion of reading this book rustles your jibblies in literally any way at all you should go spend money right away.
This book is part memoir, part textbook (simultaneously of mathematics, the history of gay culture and the drag movement, and of the history of mathematics) and part adorably unhinged geek-out about how fucking cool math is. You probably need to be at least comfortable with algebra to be able to fully appreciate it, if only because it’s kind of hard to talk a lot about math without getting at least a little bit into the weeds, but Kyne’s going to be explaining what ℵ0 is at some point and if that terrifies you you should at least take a deep breath before jumping in. It’s only 233 pages, though, so even if you have a rough time with it it’s not terribly long.
Each chapter takes on some aspect of mathematics– there’s a chapter on infinity, a chapter on algebra, a chapter on what “proof” means in a mathematical context and what the difference between numbers and numerals are, and so on, and Santos interweaves their own story and the history bits into the more technical (but again, not super technical, so far as it goes) math-focused parts. I picked up a couple of things that I am absolutely going to be bringing up in class, or at least with my Algebra kids– I have my lesson plans for Monday done already, and they’re directly from an anecdote in this book about imaginary square numbers that absolutely set my brain on fire– and Santos is one of those people who can carry a lot of what could be a slog just by sheer enthusiasm for the subject matter. Again, if you’re even the least bit curious, absolutely give this a shot. It’s well worth it.
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