J.S. Fields

Author & Scientist

Review: The Silences of Ararat by L. Timmel Duchamp

Genre: contemporary fantasy / contemporary dystopian

Pairings: f/f

Queer Representation: cis bisexual / cis pansexual (unclear narratively)

Warnings: none

Review

Paulina is a sculptor in a sort of THE HANDMAID’S TALE type dystopian future, where the ultra conservative faction of the USA has splintered off (Congress of Christian American States), elected a king, and follows ‘Christian’ teachings. Her husband, the king’s advisor, has gone missing and is presumed dead, leaving liberal Paulina only her sculpture by which to show her dissent.

Queen Hermione is everything a conservative king could want – beautiful, kind, doting, and able to hang on his every word without punching him in the face.

I have to admit, the branding of her image, combining “white” purity with womanly fecundity, revolted me. In person, though, I barely noticed it, distracted by the glimpses I began to see of an intensity I’d never before noticed. Those glimpses intrigued me. Maybe, I thought, there was something below the surface of wifely perfection composed of expensive grooming and constant deference to her husband and his most trusted advisors. Hermione was, after all, an actor. It was just possible she was consciously playing the role of the young third trophy wife and not merely following the script without noting she was doing so.

The king’s paranoia drives him to eventually accuse Hermione of adultery with his brother, and the ensuing trial and altercations result in the deaths of her two children and, as far as the public knows, of Hermione herself.

Paulina is the rescuing sort, turns out, and through using her innate magic to turn living things into sculpture, she fakes Hermione’s death, rescues the queen, and sequesters her in her own house. Romance blooms, the two women plot a delicious revenge on the king, and general emotional turmoil ensues.

The thought of her life as one of unending loneliness made me want to cry. “For godlike, love. That’s not what I meant when I talked about your needing to be strong.”

She took my hand and brought it to her cheek. “You are so good to me,” she said. “Better than I deserve.”

In that moment, Hermione’s entire attention was fixed on me in a way I hadn’t before experienced. The intimate intensity of her gaze kindled a dozen small flames licking at my skin that the sensation of my fingers on her face fanned into a blaze. To conceal what I was feeling, I pulled her close in a hug. “You don’t deserve to be lonely,” I said. “You don’t deserve to be abandoned.”

I began to pull away, only to be engulfed in confusion as her lips nudged mine and her fingers stroked my neck, feeding the conflagration of my most sensitive nerve endings. I had thought my sexuality desiccated and frozen, my heart petrified into stone. But my heart now beat so powerfully that I was suggested with heat, and the pulse in my vulva beat so strongly that I could no longer think.

Out of all the Conversation Pieces by Aqueduct Press that I have read, THE SILENCES OF ARARAT is definitely in the top five strongest installments (nothing will ever evict any of the Lucy Harper books from my heart, and the one about the girl journeying through the underworld still makes me smile). The narrative is strong and tight, with little fat and solid character development. The author spends enough time developing Hermione and the king that, when the inevitable betrayal occurs, it is both expected but still heart wrenching. The slow build up to the revenge, coupled with the romance arc, made the book a quick, delightful read.

The nonlinear narration did make the first half of the book confusing, though its a novella so the confusion was short lived. By the end of the book I didn’t mind it at all, although it makes me unlikely to reread.

For a fun dystopian with a satisfying revenge plot, you can join up with Paulina and Hermione to take down the king by buying the book here.

Review – Threadbare by Elle E. Ire

Genre: science fiction: dystopian

Pairings: f/f

Queer Representation: cis lesbian, cis bisexual

Warnings: on-page, plot irrelevant rape scene

 

Review

Vick is more machine than woman, due to a fatal evening with some coworkers and having inadvertently signed her body away to the military upon her death. Kelly is an empath assigned to work with Vick to help channel emotions she can no longer control.  Vick has a lot of missing memories, Kelly has a lot of questions, and the military has a lot of operations that require a super soldier. Unfortunately those suppressed memories of Vick’s keep turning up and leading to rage, which compromises both the missions and Vick’s usefulness.

The military wants Vick alive but emotionless. Kelly wants Vick naked and in control of her life. The Fighting Storm organization is crumbling from the inside and it is up to Vick and Kelly to figure out who is out to get them, before Vick destabilizes and takes Kelly down with her.

So.

This book.

Premise: fun-super soldier with suppressed trauma needs an empath handler. It’s a natural romance opportunity. The first chapter has solid tension and a seemingly decent plot. Vick is pretty easy to like, and Kelly fleshes out the more you read. Nice start.

Everything unwinds around chapter three. Nonlinear timelines between chapters don’t help, and neither does the flimsy plot, which does not stand up to even a gentle prodding. Fighting Storm is a pseudo-military organization that helps people with their (violent) problems and maybe also is a government entity. The plot tries to establish and then gets repeatedly back-burnered by the romance arc, which starts and stops more often than my car. On the plus side, there’s some psychic sex scenes, which aren’t too bad:

 

Oh holy hell.

I was the reason she hadn’t satisfied her sexual needs, the reason she was so overwhelmed she was practically ready to explode and had to hold herself in check.

If she’d touched herself, I would have felt it. I would have known exactly who and when and how. Yeah, that would have been awkward for both of us.

 

Kelly gains three dimensionality as Vick looses hers–a function of the choices Vick makes, yes, but not helpful for the narrative. And at the end we get treated to an on-page rape scene which serves no narrative purpose except tittilation, then a plot/romance conclusion that is not at all satisfying (first part below so you can get the flavor of it):

I clench my jaw as he slips the carving knife under my collar and rips downward, slicing through both my envirosuit and the uniform beneath, all the way to my waist. Another flick severs my bra between my breasts, and the material falls away, baring me to his insane leer. My nipples harden to a painful state as the chill hits them. A glance down his body tells me they aren’t the only the only things that have hardened.

This is the first in a trilogy, but I won’t be reading the others. The book had a lot of promise and a very nice set up for a romance, but the plot was far too flimsy and on-page rape scenes are a big no for me. There were some solid sci-fi elements, but not enough to drive the narrative. I felt like the book tried to walk a 50/50 split between romance and sci fi, and failed to meet the trope expectations of either.

You can have telepathic sex with a hot android lady by buying the book here.

Review: Nottingham. The True Story of Robyn Hood by Anna Burke

Genre: fantasy: fairy tale

Pairings: f/f, trans/f

Queer Representation: cis lesbian, cis bisexual, trans man

Warnings: none

Review

After her brother is killed for poaching in the king’s forest, Robyn takes up the role as family provider. She too is caught, and in her haste to escape must kill a man. Not wanting to bring down her whole family, she runs away to Sherwood Forest, where she meets Little John and slowly (sometimes painfully slowly) builds up a band of ‘merry men’ outlaws who, eventually, decided to take out the Sheriff of Nottingham, steal from the rich, give to the poor, etc. You know how this goes.

It’s Robin Hood, but literally every named character is queer. Most are lesbians, except for Little John, who is a trans man. The rep is great, and the ratio of men to women in this retelling is much better than most I’ve read. A+ for that, especially for how Little John was handled. I rarely see such well executed trans men in lesbian fiction.

“God’s nails,” she said, taking a step back. “You’re a woman, too.”

“No,” John said. “I’m not. Call me John. That’s who I am. Forget it, as others have before you, and I’ll leave you to fend for yourself.”

“But you…” she trailed off.

“Look like an ox?”

Robyn hadn’t been thinking of those words exactly, but the description fit. “As strong as one anyway,” she ventured.

“That’s what my late husband called me. Joan the Ox.”

“I…I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be. I got the last word.”

Robyn wondered exactly what had happened to Joan’s husband. John, she corrected herself. He’d said that was who he was, and it was no business of hers to decide otherwise.

Perfection.

Unfortunately, there isn’t much else of note in the book. NOTTINGHAM leans too heavily on Robin Hood lore, so much so that it cannot stand on its own. It takes the stock characters and gives them backstory, yes, and gender swaps, and fun adventures, but everything still feels two-dimensional. There are too many characters and side quests, which leaves the narrative long-winded and wandering. The romance between Robyn and Marian is all but lost in the story, and Robyn herself is a frustrating lead who does not drive the plot past the first few chapters. Instead, her merry (wo)men push and pull her along, or the narrative itself does, giving every chapter a slow as molasses feel.

The side characters, in many ways, are more three-dimensional than either Marian or Robyn, even though they have far fewer lines and scenes. John is amazing, and by far the breakout character of the book. Will(a) is perfect and saucy and brazen and a damn delight. Even Gwyneth is engaging, once the narrative gets going enough to let her character breathe.

Robin Hood buffs may find this book just what the sheriff ordered, but those looking for a tight, moving plot and a romance line that carries throughout will be disappointed. From reading the front and backmatter, NOTTINGHAM appears to be Burke’s first every book written (not published) and thus, the wandering and thickness make sense. Still, noting the skill the author now possesses (dear god, I will never recover from THORN), it would have been worth killing a few darlings to bring this book up to a similar quality.

Sneak into Sherwood Forest and see if Little John will let you join Robyn by buying the book here.

Review: Heathen, vol 2, by Natasha Alterici and Rachel Deering

This review is for the second volume in a comic series. To read the review for volume 1, click here. To read the review for volume three, click here.

Genre: fantasy – alternate history

Pairings: f/f

Queer Representation: cis lesbian, cis bisexual, cis pansexual, gender fluid

Warnings: none

Review

Aydis is back! Having freed Brynhild and spent some time in Freyja’s love nest, she now searches for Heimdall, the entrance to the land of the gods, in an effort to end Brynhild’s curse (and take out Odin if the opportunity permits). Adventures abound, including a brush with killer mermaids and a ship full of buxom lady pirates.

Now separated from Aydis, Brynhild and Freyja get their own adventures, too, with Freyja falling from Odin’s grace for aiding Brynhild and Aydis. There’s a great scene where Freyja, trying to re-entice Odin, turns into a male version of herself which was perfectly drawn and very Loki-esque.

Although this volume doesn’t push the story particularly far, the art remains enchanting and the promise of an eventual Aydis/Brynhild arc continues to tease. Like the previous volume there are plenty of bikini-tops, cleavage shots (hell, Freyja doesn’t even wear a top), and women who just don’t give a fuck. Odin is still a jerk, but he’s down an eye so hey! Things are looking up!

Volume 2 is on Amazon, and should be there for a while, though I know there is still a rights issue going on.

Review: Fall of the Imperium by William C. Tracy

Genre: science fantasy

Pairings: m/m/f

Queer Representation: bisexuality, pansexuality, nonbinary (multiple types, including third gender, agender, gender fluid)

Warnings: none

Review

In this final book in the Dissolution Cycle trilogy, Sam journeys to a new Nether facet to learn about his two unusual house colors, Enos attempts to recover from her time with her kidnappers, and Inas grows into his Aridori body (as well as a bunch of the old Speaker’s memories). The romance between the three apprentices heats up (there’s a cute little SFW sex scene in there), and Sam learns to draw strength from his friends to help manage (not cure!) his anxiety.

Of course, all is not well in the Nether. Elgynerdeen (giant millipede things that eat Nether crystal) keep dropping out of Drains all over the Imperium. They eat anything and anyone in their path, and seem to be hell bent on something in the Assembly Hall. We also have an ancient Aridori civil war resurfacing, Sam battling with the weird voice in his head (while trying to sort out the House of Time and the House of Matter), and yeah, a bunch of teenagers running around trying to keep the adults from dying.

Fans of the series will enjoy the tie-ins to all the various novellas. Mandamon makes several appearances, as do the Pixies, and mention is made of the new species above the Nether clouds that was learned about in JOURNEY TO THE TOP OF THE NETHER (the middle grade novella).

It’s a great wrap to the trilogy, with plenty of plot threads to keep the series well alive. Tracy has created an expansive universe with no end in sight to the potential worldbuilding, and it’s always fun to play around in the giant sandbox of music-based science fantasy. And as always, the nonbinary representation remains strong. My favorite passage from this book:

Now he looked closer, Inas didn’t think the pronoun encompassed multiple personalties as for the assassins or the Accretion. Instead it denoted someone who did not belong to a male or female gender. There had been a few in his family line who chose similar pronouns, though Aridori tended to separate themselves into binaries, perhaps because being born as two instances–two possibilities unfolding–predetermined them into dual categories.

You can join the Great Assembly of Species by buying the book here!

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