J.S. Fields

Author & Scientist

Review: In an Absent Dream by Seanan McGuire

Genre: portal fantasy

Pairings: none

Queer Representation: in-world mention of cis lesbians

Warnings: EMOTIONS

Rating: 5 stars

 

 

Review (note that quotes come from the arc, and may change in the final draft)

Lundy, a quiet, studious, rule-bound girl, finds a door to the equally rule-bound land of the Goblin Market. By her eighteenth birthday she must choose whether to stay in the market or live with her birth family. But Lundy, who has always loved loopholes, may not be able to find one big enough to avoid the consequences of making an unfair deal beyond her door.

A little backstory

How I ended up with the arc is sort of a portal fantasy within itself. I was an invited guest at OryCon 40 (Portland) this year, and Seanan McGuire was the author guest of honor. I had a booth with a few friends as well (a very queer books booth… you couldn’t miss us), and Seanan, whom I did not recognize, stopped by and ended up buying all three ARDULUM books (may she not hate them, please god(s)).

We got to talking and because it had been a really whirlwind of a con with a lot of homophobia and racism around, when she mentioned she was the author  guest of honor it still didn’t click who she was and I asked. So then she showed me her name tag and I did not drop dead on the spot, although I probably should have. I wanted to tell her how much I loved the Wayward Children series but of course could not remember one damn title and stumbled my way around with ‘oh I read your first and second book and reviewed the third…the one with the girl…’ while she’s looking at me with what I hope was bemusement and mentioning that she’s written lots of books, so ‘first one’ doesn’t really help.

Anyway, eventually my misfiring brain got out that I was a book reviewer with the New York Journal of Books and I was really upset because I missed IN AN ABSENT DREAM in the que, and someone else got to it first, so I wouldn’t get to review it. And then Seanan pulled an arc out of her bag and offered it to me. So even though I can’t get this review up on my normal official channels, I took that book, damn it. She even signed it for me. And she had me sign the ARDULUM books for her and I’m still recovering from that so excuse me while I fan myself.

We talked for like half an hour and I think might kind of sort of be friends now (I mean, we had an in-depth conversation about speculums and sex toys and if that doesn’t qualify past ‘acquaintance’ I don’t know what does), or at least ‘I wouldn’t hit you with my car if I saw you on the side of the road’ friends. Whatever. The point is that I HAVE THIS ARC, DAMN IT, and I’m thrilled, and I’m going to review the damn thing, even if it’s only on Goodreads and my blog. So with that…

Lundy

Those familiar with the Wayward Children series may remember Lundy from EVERY HEART A DOORWAY as the counselor and right-hand assistant to the head of the school. She ages both incredibly slowly and also backwards, and IN AN ABSENT DREAM explores the origin of this strange aging, as well as Lundy’s world and door, similar to the other Wayward Children books.

Lundy as a character had a lot less, let’s say, distinction than some of McGuire’s other wayward children. I spent about the first fifty pages looking for that special thing that set the other kids apart, and it took me until almost the end to realize that her lack of that thing was actually what made her so unique. She’s quite. She’s a rule-follower. She has decently loving parents and a solidly middling life and aside from growing up a girl in the 1960s, there was very little going against her.

It’s that sort of SARA PLAIN AND TALL vibe that really drew me in. I connected with Lundy more than I have with any of the other wayward children, which is likely by design since each of the books targets a very specific sort of child. I also fell hard for the ‘rules’ of the Goblin Market, where children are allowed to go back and forth multiple times before their eighteenth birthday. That gave IN AN ABSENT DREAM a much more sort of fairy tale feel than the other books in the series, and gave Lundy’s choices less…seriousness? Concreteness? The flexibility made the doorway seem less ominous and definitely less final, which really made the gut punch at the end of the book that much more brutal.

Emotion

While the other wayward children books have been fun, creative, delightful-if-not-dark-and-that’s-okay journeys, IN AN ABSENT DREAM read more like an emotional, coming-of-age journey. As always, McGuire captures childhood reasoning and childhood voice in a way very few adults are able:

Children begat adults begat children, now and forever, amen. She was in no hurry to reach those terrifying heights of adulthood; she assumed they would happen somewhere around the eighth grade, which was impossibly far away, and happened on the junior high school campus, where her father held no sway.

McGuire also delivers what has to be the best paragraph on sisterhood that I have ever come across,

Let us speak, for a moment, on the matter of sisters. They can be enemies to fight or companions to lean upon: they can, at times, be strangers, They are not required to be friends, or to have involvement in one another’s lives, or to be anything more than strangers united by the circumstances of their birth. Still, there is a magic in the word “sister,” a magic which speaks of shared roots and hence shared branches, of a certain ease that is always to be pursued, if not always to be found.

The use of authorial voice is equally as strong in this book as the others. Though where it tended to grate in UNDER THE SUGAR SKY, here it soothes and injects cautionary humor.

Her book fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers, landing in the dust of the trail. This will be important later.

There was action in this book, certainly, but it was less sword and sorcery (these events happening in the background and recounted and remembered more than anything) and more emotional action. As with all good fairy tales, lessons were couched in rules and childhood innocence:

“Sometimes ‘fair’ is bigger than just you,” said the Archivist. She handed Lundy a pillow. “Sometimes ‘fair’ has to think about what’s best for everyone.”

yet still manages to deliver some sound critique on social constructions and the current political landscape.

Moon

Secondary characters were limited, which is perfectly expected in a novella. Of note, however, is the character ‘Moon.’ Born to the Goblin Market by a mother that abandoned her there, Moon and Lundy become fast friends. Friendship never really comes to Lundy from the ‘real’ world, and her pairing to the impulsive and perhaps-not-very-well-suited-to-the-Goblin-Market Moon is instantaneously genuine and satisfying. So well drawn is Moon’s character that McGuire even notes,

Let us pull back for a moment, and see things through her eyes–for while this is Lundy’s story, Lundy’s cautionary tale, it might as easily have been Moon’s.

Followed a paragraph later by the ominous,

It might have been a kinder ending.

A gut punch to the emotions, this book. Building like Pan’s Labyrinth where you know what is coming but the background is too rich and the characters too beloved to look away. And then it happens and you’re left with a sweet anger that you can’t really explain because you’re not angry, not really, but you wanted something different, even when your heart told you you wouldn’t get it.

Damn feelings.

This book was, is, childhood. So much more than its predecessors, IN AN ABSENT DREAM delivers echos of wild youth and the adolescent pursuit of found family. It buries itself deep inside the reader to dredge out memories and emotion maybe best left buried–regurgitated now to settle back amongst Lundy’s journey and her critical mistake. As with all the Wayward Children books, the reader is left with the yearning of where is my door?, but IN AN ABSENT DREAM asks too, would my choices have been any different?

You can preorder IN AN ABSENT DREAM in hardback here, audio here, and ebook here.

Final thoughts

I always swore that if I met Seanan McGuire I would talk to her about our mutual love of My Little Ponies and DID I DO THAT? NO. BECAUSE I AM AN IDIOT. I mean, we use the same vibrator apparently but could I get out any words about whether she’s more a Firefly or Medley fan (you can tell a lot about people by their answer to this question)? No. No I did not. Half the dealers room heard us talking about speculums AND I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT MY LITTLE PONIES.

I’d cry if it wasn’t so damn funny. Also, where is my damned door?

Review: The Phoenix Empress by K Arsenault Rivera

Genre: high fantasy

Pairings: female/female

Queer representation: cis lesbian

Warnings: the same as with book one

Rating: 3 stars

note: the cover above, from Amazon, differs from the cover I received both in review paperback and final paperback. My copy has the tag line: ‘Lose Yourself to Save the World.’

Review

I both received an ARC of this book through my reviewer gig, and bought a copy because I so loved book one (while still recognizing its problematic behavior). My professional review is posted here. I wanted to take some time, however, to discuss some additional elements to the book that either didn’t belong in the pro review, or I was unsure how to best discuss in the third person.

THE TIGER’S DAUGHTER was, for me, a breathtaking epic fantasy centered on the love between two women and the clashing of their cultures. It was also problematic in terms of addressing colorism within Japanese and Mongolian communities, and blended elements of China into Japan in a way that was confusing and, in some cases, offensive. Some of the more blatant problems were summed up in this Goodreads review.

I chose to preorder THE PHOENIX EMPRESS anyway, because its predecessor had so moved me and I really wanted to see what became of Shefali in particular (I never really cared for Shizuka). I mean, you get semi-possessed by a demon and then covertly marry your lover to upset her emperor uncle? Heck yeah I want to read that sequel!

And the sequel was…meh. Well, parts of it were ZOMG I AM SO INTO THIS!! and parts were ‘I’d DNF this if I didn’t have to leave a review.’ So, let’s break it down.

Lane problems

As far as I can tell (and I am not an expert on Japanese, Chinese, or Mongolian culture), a lot of the bigger cultural issues were rectified. There was only one slur in this book (there were many rice-related ones in THE TIGER’S DAUGHTER that caused a lot of harm to readers), and it was truncated halfway through by a character chastising the other. Arsenault Rivera also appeared to try to distance the imitation China, Japan, and Mongolia from the actual places by adding more distinct fantasy elements, developing the world farther away from the base countries, and adding in additional queer elements. Which brings me to…

Representation

THE TIGER’S DAUGHTER fell into the trap of  ‘homosexuality isn’t discussed as having existed in feudal/medieval times so therefore it wouldn’t exist during the fictional time of my book, either.’ Which is, of course, ridiculous, because dragons, demons, magic swords, magic hair, mermaids, whatever, actually didn’t exist ever, but a couple of ladies macking near a river is clearly stretching disbelief.

Come on.

So it was nice to see a mention of the frequency of homosexual relationships in THE PHOENIX EMPRESS, with a reference being made to many types of pairings, as well as people existing outside the gender binary. +1 for breaking that trope!

Pacing

Here, however, is where the book fell flat for me. Book one wove a strangely compelling tale through epistolary form. It wove action and romance and character development evenly, beautifully, and once you got over the glut of names, the book read smoothly. THE PHOENIX EMPRESS, on the other hand, was completely out of balance. The first half of the book went between the author telling you what the second half of the book would do (I hated this), and the more compelling reuniting of Shefali and Shizuka, and dealing with Shizuka’s alcoholism.

The relationship part of the first half was well done. Shefali and Shizuka were believable wives with believable problems and that tenderness-laced-with-steel that makes for compelling character interactions. Unfortunately that was perhaps 25% of the first 250 pages, with the rest rumination by Shizuka, painful info dumps, or even more painful prose that, instead of being enchanting like in book one, skewed more towards the purple.

I can’t say that it was worth sticking it out for the second half, but I did truly enjoy the second half. The action picked up dramatically here, and I was treated to Shizuka’s battle with the black bloods and her retaking of the Empire (not a spoiler–you learn she did this on like page five but don’t actually get to see it until well past the halfway point). I enjoyed learning more about Shefali’s demon. I loved the magic of their godhoods and how they both explored their gifts. And I adored the last chapter or so, where the two have to choose between saving Shefali’s life or battling The Traitor (big head baddie who is also a magical god).

Overall

I think there was a really sound book in here–a roughly 300 page book that was consumed by 200 pages of useless fluff. If overly flower language and endless metaphor (and I mean endless) are your things, or if you love deep interpersonal relationship play with no plot movement (no shame, sometimes I’m in the mood for that too), this is your book. If you’re hoping to see some sort of forward plot momentum, start around page 250 or 300. You won’t have missed anything, trust me.

You can buy THE PHOENIX EMPRESS in paperback here, ebook here, and audio here.

Review: Ruin of Stars by Linsey Miller

Genre: fantasy (sword and sorcery) (YA)

Pairings: nonbinary (genderfluid)/female

Queer Representation: nonbinary, bisexual, aromantic

Warnings: much stabbing

Rating: 4 stars

Review

Once again I had more to say on a book (surprise surprise). You can read my official review here. For more in-depth analysis, see below.

This review contains massive spoilers because it is impossible to review the book without them.

The sequel to MASK OF SHADOWS, genderfluid Sal is back as Our Queen’s Opal–ready to assassinate anyone Our Queen needs, but also hell bent on finishing off their own assassination list for the murder of their homeland, Nacea. Much like Arya Stark, Sal has a list and will do anything to cross the names off. Severed ears, missing children, rouge magic, and murderous shadows, however, keep getting in the way.

General

This was much the same as the first book in terms of plot and pacing. The start was a bit slower to get into, as there was very little rehashing and it was rough to remember all the (numerous) players in the court. I didn’t get really hooked into the narrative until page 159 (I actually dog-eared the page because I got so excited). Things got better after Sal started their quest and the character number dropped to just them and Rath, and a few additional characters. There was just as much violence and gore as the first (which was not a problem–it was very well balanced) and once again, the secondary characters really shone through. So let’s talk about…

Characters

Maud remains my favorite person in the series. She’s nuanced, complexed, and so well written than I would pay cash money, right now, for a book just written from her POV. I would read this entire duology again from a Maud POV as well. She is an absolutely delightful duplicitous servant and her devotion to Sal is just perfect. Her interaction with Sal on page 40-42 is just so quintessential Maud. There was never any doubt in my mind which team she was playing for. Please, Linsey Miller, can we have a collection of Maud shorts?

Elise gained some additional dimensionality in this book and went from simple love interest to plot-relevant sidekick. Her romance with Sal remained a bit lukewarm, but that was by design, as the two have quite the falling out about midway through.

The villains were flat out delicious. All of them. I love morally grey people (as anyone who has read the Ardulum series will know), and it was wonderful to go through their mental mechanisms and rationalizations. There were times when I could have easily sided with the villains, too. Burn Nacea! Maybe just leave off the shadow business…

To the enby stuff

Yes okay, enough rehash. You’re here for teh gay, I assume. I was pleased with MASK OF SHADOWS and its portrayal as genderfluid as just part of in-world life. Some explanations had to be given, but generally it was a non-issue. I know from discussions that the author was asked to step up the enby issues in this book, and she certainly did so. I’m not sure I like it? I don’t dislike it, but coming in the second book of the series felt a little jarring. It also only played out in the first half and disappeared again in the back half of the book. Because of all this the issues surrounding Sal’s gender fluidity, it felt tacked on instead of natural, and thus every mentioned jumped out at me, instead of drawing me farther into the book.

I want to make it very clear though, that A) I realize this is not the author’s fault and B) due to the almost complete lack of nonbinary rep in mainstream published YA literature, these kinds of call-outs to identity are almost mandatory. It’s rote for me, but not the cis fifteen year old, necessarily. So in this case, as frustrating as I found it, it has a very legitimate reason for being there.

I did really miss the emphasis on the fluid nature of Sal’s gender in this book. In MASK OF SHADOWS we got to see a lot more of Sal as a woman, Sal as a man, Sal in-between. It made the outfits fun and the titles fun and really helped to humanize Sal. We only get one of those instances in this book, on page 189:

“Lady Opal,” she said–I was but I didn’t like the way she said it, like she’d say it no matter what–and smiled.”

The subtly of this sentence is what made me love MASK OF SHADOWS, and was something I missed a lot in RUIN OF STARS, where Sal’s pronouns seem to uniformly get shoved into ‘they’ instead of bouncing between she, he, and they.

I also enjoyed the extended time with Elise and her canon bisexuality. It was only briefly touched on in the first book, but here it is a major bone of contention that actually drives part of the plot. Erlend sounds like an awful country, btw, and I’ll take a hard pass on a tour package to there, even if we get to see shadows.

The sex scene with Sal and Elise (page 372) was lovely, not only in the way it was written but in that there is no great ‘what’s between their legs’ answer. That is really the crowning achievement of this duology–Miller manages to write a three-dimensional genderfluid character without ever feeling the need to dip into the assigned gender at birth, Sal’s anatomy, or anything like that. The reader is left with absolutely no idea if Sal’s body has a penis or a vulva, and it doesn’t matter in the slightest to anyone in-world. Sure, the Erlend people want you to have one gender and stick with it, but no one appears to have an issue with genitals and gender.

So, as violent and bloody as the world is in these books, in many ways, it’s a lot nicer than our own.

 

You can buy RUIN OF STARS here in paperback and here in ebook.

 

Review: The Black Tides of Heaven by JY Yang

Genre: fantasy (silk punk) (novella)

Pairings: trans (masculine)/m

Queer Representation: transgender, nonbinary

Warnings: none

Rating: 4 stars

 

Review

(this is one of the rare times when the back of book blurb is accurate, so I’m just going to copy it below)

Mokoya and Akeha, the twin children of the Protector, were sold to the Grand Monastery as infants. While Mokoya developed a strange prophetic gift, Akeha was always the one who could see the strings that moved adults to action. While Mokoya received visions of what would be, Akeha realized what could be. What’s more, they saw the sickness at the heart of their mother’s Protectorate.

A rebellion is growing. The Machinists discover new levers to move the world every day, while the Tensors fight to put them down and preserve the power of the state. Unwilling to continue as spawn in their mother’s twisted schemes, Akeha leaves the Tensorate behind and falls in with the rebels. But ever step Akeha takes toward the Machinists is a step away from Mokoya. Can Akeha find peace without shattering the bond they share with their twin?

 

Characterization

Nonbinary fiction written by a nonbinary author is right up my alley! This novella was short and sweet, with excellent pacing and perfect character development. The twins, in particular, are very well thought out, and their evolution from children to rebels is delightful at every turn. The mother (The Protector) is that kind of delicious evil you can salivate over–power hungry but respects a challenge ala Lionel Luther from Smallville (don’t pretend you never watched that show. It was on for ten seasons. You had to have seen it once, if only for Johnathon Glover’s hair).

The world, in particular, is very well done. The idea that children are born and raised androgynous and then must declare their gender (and then go through a medical transition to achieve it) was much more intuitive than other instances I have read, likely due to the author’s intimate familiarity with nonbinary genders. Akeha’s struggle to pick within the binary when they (later they use ‘he’) don’t have the strongest of urges to move in either direction, resonated well. The deeper look at the trans masculine experience was also fresh and authentic, and will resonate with many trans masculine and trans nonbinary readers.

Steampunk versus silk punk

While steampunk has never been a favorite genre of mine, I have to say that I’m now well hooked on silk punk. It has all the fun trappings of the steampunk genre (cool machine weapons and budding technology), but without the tired European aesthetic. While the pacing in this book was ideal, I wouldn’t have minded staying in the world a bit longer (overthrow the Protectorate!!), especially in the last thirty pages or so (OMG WHY IS THE MOM SMILING KILL HER KILL HER WITH FIRE!) when you get a bigger look at the tech and the politics at play. I’m eager to get my hands on the other book in the duology, moreso for the world than anything else (although the characters are a bonus!).

Through line

The only downside to the book was a lack of strong overarching narrative. I was happy to be along for the ride, but I was never really sure where the ride was going, or what the goals of the characters were. Not everyone needs or wants that in a book, however, and the pacing was strong enough (and the book short enough) that it wasn’t a major hurdle. It did leave me wondering in several places as to what the actual plot was, but then some cool new tech would come around, or Akeha would have a gender moment again, and I’d be right back in the story.

Lovers of steampunk and/or lovers of enby fantasy will have a great time with THE BLACK TIDES OF HEAVEN. Bonus- the author is on Twitter, active, and they are an absolute delight to follow.

You can buy THE BLACK TIDES OF HEAVEN in paperback here and ebook here.

Review: Starless by Jacqueline Carey

Genre: fantasy (epic/high)

Pairings: f/nonbinary

Queer Representation: cis lesbian, nonbinary (third gender)

Warnings: none

Rating: 5 stars

 

Review

Long ago, the gods fell to the earth, including one who did not deserve its fate. A princess and her sworn protector join a motley crew of mortals tasked with saving their world from the destruction of a vengeful god in this delightful high fantasy adventure with a nonbinary protagonist.

Read my more ‘professional’ New York Journal of Books review here. For a review with more raw emotion, continue below.

I requested this book through NYJB after seeing someone on Twitter ask if any enbies had reviewed STARLESS. Curious, I looked it up only to find it was written by one of my favorite authors, Jacqueline Carey. I never cared for her KUSHIEL series (pease do not send me hate mail) but absolutely adored SANTA OLIVA and SAINTS ASTRAY. Mercifully it was close enough to STARLESS’ release date that I could snag a review copy. Unsure what to expect–the inside jacket blurb isn’t great and the tag line is unhelpful–I dove in.

 

At its most basic

This is high fantasy. There are living gods that walk the earth, magic, dragons, pirates, princesses, seers, fairy-type people, etc. Mercifully it is less a midivil European fantasy and more a ‘travel the whole planet’ fantasy, wherein the reader gets exposed to numerous species and cultures. It also lacks any on-screen rape (although rape is mentioned obliquely in-world) and there are no white people saving scores of brown people. It’s not a George R.R. Martin book. There’s also plenty of women in it, which means it’s not a Tolkien book, and it does more than lip service to diversity, which is a heck of a lot more than most stuff on the market today.

The above alone would make the book worth reading, but Carey takes the book a step further with the exploration of nonbinary identities. As with my professional review, I’m going to avoid talking much about the greater plot (it’s great, btw, but I figure since someone was looking for an enby review, I’d better review the enby bits). I will say that the living gods are creepy-cool, and one of my favorite parts of the worldbuilding.

 

Khai and the gender question

Khai is born during a moon-on-moon eclipse, at the same time as a princess of the Sun-Blessed. Chosen by a god to be the princess’ protector (known as ‘shadow’) Khai is raised by an all male brotherhood and trained as a warrior. Shadows, however, are always  male, but Khai is not. In a male-dominant society where women are veiled and kept apart, Khai is raised bhazim, an ‘honorary boy.’

In order to better keep the secret of Khai’s gender, the brotherhood insist upon complete privacy. Khai never learns that he (Khai uses ‘he/him/his’ throughout the book) has different anatomy (he doesn’t even seen a woman/girl until 11).

It is not clear from the writing whether Khai actually is a boy, and thus never experiences dysphoria from the way he is raised, or does not experience dysphoria because there is no other gender option available. The experience of dysphoria, while certainly not universal to the trans, trans nonbinary, and nonbinary experience, does play a role in this book, and marks various points in Khai’s journey of gender discovery.

A quote that set the stage of my expectations, and then delightfully did not materialize, showcases the mastery with which Carey discusses the way Khai is raised:

I would not be content if I were Miasmus, raised in darkness and secrecy, cast down from the heavens for a sin I had not committed. No, I would not be content at al, but filled with a bitter and long-simmering fury…

 

I had a lot of strong feelings as I read this book

 

In relation to similar gender transformation trope books

In many ways the plot reminded me of one of my favorite series. THE BONE DOLL’S TWIN (forever after TBDT), which is a great dark fantasy but, in my opinion, really botched the ‘girl raised literally as a boy and finds out she is a girl’ trope. STARLESS is what I wanted BONE DOLL’S TWIN to be in terms of gender exploration.

In TBDT, the MC has some light struggles with being a girl raised as a literal boy (through magical body transformation), but generally gets on fine. When her body is finally remade into its proper form, the princess has little difficulty with the transition. It’s not that the transition was untrue in any way, I guess I just always thought it lacked real emotion. STARLESS does a great job at capturing that moment of shock and the resulting actions.

 

In terms of other forms of enbies

The fantasy market has had a number of gender fluid characters written, both by #ownvoices authors and not, but the gender of the character has never been pivotal to the plot. I have yet to see a fantasy with third gender character (some fantasy books with awesome gender fluid characters include DALÍ, MOONSHINE, MASK OF SHADOWS).

It’s beyond important to have every kind of representation, and I certainly don’t have any issues with the volume of gender fluid characters on the market. I do wonder though if gender fluid characters are picked up more readily by agents and publishers because the genders are relatable. Instead of constantly in between, the character may only be sometimes between, and more often traditionally on one end or the other of the binary. Writing a third gender (or agender, for that matter) character is hard, and it may be that connecting with one, for a standard cis audience, is even harder.

Khai does consider various other nonbinary designations, and it takes him the better part of the book to settle on what could best be described as third gender. Here’s a snippet of text from page 215 (hardback edition), where Khai is discussing his gender with Princess Zariya, his soul-twin and love interest.

“How do you think of yourself now?” she asked curiously. “As a boy or a girl?”

I thought about it. “Neither, I suppose. I don’t know how to be a girl but I don’t want to, either.”

Zariya goes on to tell Khai that the Elehuddin people have words for certain types of nonbinary, such as ‘neither man nor woman’ and ‘possibly both’ (note that this species can physically change their gender). This is later confirmed (page 406, hardback) where an Elehuddin tells Khai

“The first is for a person who is in the middle of changing between one and the other. The second…” Breaking off our discourse, he conferred with the Elehuddin in their own tongue. “A person who is alone, maybe a person who has lost their tribal for some reason, may choose to be both. This person may become father and mother like to their own child.”

What I find most interesting about this beat, however, is that Khai rejects the female gender here seemingly solely on the poor social status of women, which Zariya does call him out on. This sets Khai on the road to considering aspects of being a girl, and I think eventually helps him settle on an identity.

 

Relatability

I relate to Khai’s journey on numerous levels. Khai’s reaction to being told he is not the gender he was raised as, and his resulting emotions, struck a nerve. Having also been raised in a way that fit my gender identity, to find out that your body tells a different story (even if that story affirms certain peculiarities), is difficult to deal with.

It was great to see a character really grappling with the balance of male/female, and dysphoria over clothing. The most ‘real’ part of the book, for me, was Khai donning a dress to please his mother (who always wanted a girl), and both hating it and also appreciating the way he looked. STARLESS does not lack for complex emotions.

Even Khai’s journey into the city proper, when he must first start interacting with women, felt very much like my own forays into women’s circles (especially during pregnancy).

I knew nothing of cities; I knew nothing of courts or palaces save what Vironesh had told me. I knew nothing of women.

You and me both, Khai.

Even the parts I couldn’t relate to as well made perfect sense for the character. In the beat below, Khai is having a bath with women for the first time.

And yet… to be wholly naked, a woman among women? The thought of it was profoundly uncomfortable.

 

Discord

The only part of the Khai-gender-journey that didn’t seem to fit quite right was the mother-dress beat. In it, Khai learns that his mother has always wanted a girl, and promises to dress as one the following day. He does so, much to his own discomfort, but later enjoys how he looks in the dress and greatly enjoys his mother’s reaction. Khai thinks back on this moment many times throughout the book, such as in this section on page 498 (hardcover)

She stroked the soft silk. “Thank you, Khai. But I suppose such garb was little to your liking.”

I didn’t answer right away. remembering the first time I had seen myself in the mirror attired as a woman; remembering the light in my mother’s eyes when she had seen me thusly as the daughter for whom she had yearned. I didn’t think these were things Even could fully understand, even if I were able to articulate my own conflicted feelings. “That is not entirely true.”

Everyone, of course, experiences dysphoria differently (if at all), but I was left to wonder at this point how Khai even managed to put the dress on, with all the problems he had had to this point with general anxiety and dysphoria. It’s all well and good to reevaluate once it’s on, but I was surprised to not see more emotional reactions from Khai during the dressing. I’ve scratched my skin so hard it bled from trying to tear my way out of a sweater that made me feel too feminine. I can only imagine being stuffed into a dress.

 

Overall

Minor quibbles aside, this was an excellent book. While both my reviews have focused on the gender aspect, there is so much more to this book, including grand adventure, magic, and yes, love. Fans of THE BONE DOLL’S TWIN, MASK OF SHADOWS, and ARDULUM (there’s a similar journey of self discovery in ARDULUM) will enjoy STARLESS. Out of all the books I’ve read this year, this is definitely my favorite.

You can buy STARLESS in paperback here, digital here, and audiobook here.

 

P.S. This book deserved a much better cover.

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