Tag Archives: Gaslamp

“I’ll Settle for Making You Feel Something”: Mission Accomplished in M.L. Wang’s Blood Over Bright Haven

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“The best I can do is create a book that reflects my angst at the time of writing and hope it resonates. If I’m being ambitious, I hope my stories foster empathy, curiosity, and critical thinking about the complex power structures at play in our lives. At my heart, though, I’m a silly genre fiction girl, and I’ll settle for making you FEEL something.” – Interview With M.L. Wang (Blood Over Bright Haven)

Well, congratulations. You did . . . you really did.

This was not a book I could wait around until I next saw my book club to talk about, this was a book I had to text them about as I was reading. How far are you? Did this happen yet? Can you believe . . . ?

This may seem to imply that reading Blood Over Bright Haven is something of a high-octane experience, with lots of action, relentless pacing, and a rollercoaster’s worth of plot twists and turns (perhaps like a certain series about dragon riders that’s really popular right now).

Another quote from the interview referenced above describes Bright Haven as: “. . . more compact . . . lower on action scenes, and higher on all-nighters in the library.”

This isn’t a book you speed through, it’s one you sit with. One you read a chapter or two at a time, and think about in between.

Without spoiling too much, I’ll take a moment to give some trigger warnings:

  • This book contains some instances of suicidal ideation
  • It also contains an attempted sexual assault
  • It’s generally pretty gore-y.

I don’t mention these things to turn off readers from the book. Indeed I think everything listed here is handled with the utmost care by the author.

I mention these things because I feel like some folks would want some warning, and also because it illustrates how truly intense this story is.

In terms of genre, Blood Over Bright Haven is still Dark Academia as the “. . . premise hinged on a scholar uncovering a conspiracy through research . . . ” (another Wang quote from the above interview), but similar to The Centre, it hardly focuses on school at all.

In fact, BOBH‘s main character, Sciona, is all done with school, and the first woman to be appointed “Highmage”, a role which feels like it should resemble that of a scientist, but as the reader learns more about this world, comes to understand that the role is also quite tied to religion and . . . for lack of a better term, an extremely cultish patriarchy.

Like other books within the genre, BOBH is extremely concerned with wealth and privilege, and the power structures which perpetuate inequality. Where I think this book shines brighter than others I’ve read in this genre, is in the way we see Sciona struggle in her battle against these forces. There are many zero sum games within these pages, and a spree of chapters in which every stance Sciona takes against injustice, seems only to heap more injustice upon the oppressed.

Not every novel needs to feel “real”, and often times supposed “realism” in novels is just another kind of power fantasy, but I though BOBH had a kind of plangency because of how it mirrors reality. As Wang hoped it would, it gets you to feel something.

I’d also say that BOBH is in many ways quite poetic.

Or maybe — as I’m struggling to be — articulate.

The author mentions that she chose the book’s “Western Gaslamp setting” as a kind of aesthetic shorthand so she would not have to bother with lots of worldbuilding. A backdrop readers could easily conjure on their own. I have only read a handful of books within that setting, so I didn’t find it “boring for me, creatively” as the author seems to, but I will agree that it suited the story well, and proved a deft move for another reason: it allowed for a poetry of ideas rather than scenery. Much of the beauty of this book is in the eloquence of the way its ideas were presented rather than the craft of its visual imagery.

There were many times while reading that I thought to myself: “dang, I hope someday I can express some idea that well” (obviously I should have written some of them down but I haven’t been very scholarly lately. Maybe a re-read is in order some day!).

All of that aside, the imagery on the front cover of the epitomous “Spellograph” could rival any of the artwork in a Brandon Sanderson secret project.

So, Give Blood Over Bright Haven a Read?

Absolutely! Looking at my goodreads account, I’ve only read about four books so far this year, and I’d say Blood Over Bright Haven is the best fiction I’ve read yet.

Just as the author hoped, it’s a book that makes you FEEL. One that you literally cannot rush through, because you find yourself sitting with each reveal, wanting to really understand what you’ve just read before continuing. In today’s fast paced world of minute-long Tik Toks, I’d say that’s a pretty impressive feat.

I was also quite impressed by the eloquence of the way ideas were presented in this book which deals with heavy topics such as privilege, power, and patriarchy. And Sciona’s unique perspective and flawed character (though good intentions), set Blood Over Bright Haven apart from other Dark Academia, and Gaslamp titles I’ve read.

A truly great book!

That’s all I have for this one. Has anyone else read it yet? What were your thoughts? Please leave your ideas and insights in the comments section. Looking forward to talking more about this one!

Should ‘How to Raise a Kraken In Your Bathtub’ Win a Hugo?

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“Le Poulpe Colossal” by malacologist Pierre Dénys de Montfort, 1801

Well it’s Hugo Season again (and has been for a little while), which means I ought to start adding a few more reviews to the List of Hugo Nominees I’ve Reviewed. I’ll admit that after ANOTHER scandal with the Chengdu awards last year in 2023, my interest and enthusiasm for the awards have greatly diminished.

However, my love and adoration of all stories written by P. Djeli Clark has not, so I figured I’d at least check out his nomination. Starter Villain by John Scalzi, and The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty are both excellent and I’d already reviewed them on this blog independent of any Hugo nominations, so please check out those reviews if you’d like.

I’ll likely post a few more ‘hugo’ related reviews before August (I apparently post about video games now, and just so happen to be most the way through Chants of Sennaar), but my approach will definitely be a lot more relaxed than in years past.

Pointless housekeeping aside, let’s dive into this little gem shall we?

In last week’s review of Fonda Lee’s Untethered Sky, I observed that it’s easy to allow a story’s page length to bias our interpretation of it (and our description later on when reviewing). We can’t help but try to make it sound fun, or playful, even when its tone is more serious and nuanced. We enjoyed it, but saying “This piece destroyed me, but in a good way.” seems somewhat incongruous.

We don’t have to worry about this at all with How to Raise a Kraken in Your Bathtub. It is legit ‘a romp’.

Does it have serious commentary about ambition, colonialism, racism and (somewhat) classism? Yes. It is also about raising a baby Kraken.

You don’t need to read about it on the the author’s blog to sense a kind of giddiness about the story. It’s a goofy idea, and yet it’s also a significant one.

Some mechanics of the story were also interesting to me, whether it’s because I’m a writer, or for some other reason I’m not sure, but I couldn’t help but think that the choice of the main character was interesting.

Trevor Hemley is a pretty unlikable dude (the author also notes the risk of this on his blog). He’s self-centered, smug, and racist. Yet his eyes are the ones through which we see the story, and I would argue that it is essential to this story that this is true. On a practical level, we need his POV because Trevor’s ambitions and projects need to be kept secret in order to succeed and we could not be privy to them through another point of view, but more philosophically, this positioning means that all of the things we hate about him — which in many respects are the theme of the story — are reinforced by the story’s ending.

For (a somewhat random) example, consider A Christmas Story. As adults we know that those little puzzles on the back of cereal boxes (or hot chocolate) are BS, but the main character has yet to realize it. His reaction to this loss of innocence is hilarious, but also meaningful because it’s reaffirmed our own beliefs by the end of the scene.

Somewhat less analytical: this scene from A Christmas Story was in the back of my mind pretty much the whole time I was reading this. I was just waiting for some reveal to which Trevor would respond “Son of a B@ch!”. This was it’s own kind of fun.

Anyway, this post is starting to feel a bit long, so I’ll just mention one small criticism before wrapping up. The opening scene (in the bar) felt a bit needless to me, and I wondered if the story should have started with the delivery of the kraken egg to Trevor’s house. As it stands, the opening serves as this sort of weird overture which does express the themes of the story and introduces us to our characters, but I didn’t really feel engaged in the story until the kraken egg arrives. Perhaps this is just personal preference.

But Should it Win a Hugo?

Ultimately, hard to say. It is an excellent story, and a genuine joy to read but I haven’t yet read any of the other stories on the ballot yet. My feeling is that something with a slightly less comedic tone will take the award, but I also feel that post-pandemic, stories with this kind of absurdity are a bit more desirable.

I would certainly be happy if this story won, but only time will tell.

That’s all I have for this week. What are your thoughts? Would you try to raise a kraken in your bathtub? Which nominee do you think will win the Hugo? Let me know in the comments. I’m excited to talk more about this one!

See you next time.

Beyond Gaslamp: The Unseen Depths of The Mimicking of Known Successes

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It’s often the case that a book just cannot outrun what is being said about it. And no matter how much I try to remove expectation from my reading, it is even more often the case that I will still have plenty of preconceived notions at the start, and ultimately a large part of my enjoyment of the book will hinge on whether or not I felt the book met the expectations I had going in.

If the book is by a certain author which I know and like? I’ll have one set of expectations. If the book is simply getting dragged on TikTok? Then I’m sure I’ll have a different set of expectations.

If Charlie Jane Anders is quoted on the cover calling the book “An utter triumph!”? Well . . .

The Mimicking of Known Successes does contain many very cool pieces, but I couldn’t help but feel as I read it, that I was just on the verge of being blown away by something incredible, which unfortunately just never happened.

The coolest of the ‘very cool pieces’ for me was definitely its setting. Mossa’s and Pleiti’s investigation (and inevitable romance) takes place on a network of ring platforms orbiting Jupiter. Humanity has resorted to such extreme methods of survival because Earth is no longer inhabitable, destroyed by . . . well a general lack of care for the planet (I don’t remember if a particular environmental disaster is mentioned or not).

Woah.

Older has clearly put a lot of thought into how this society works, and the ring platforms feel real and quite plausible despite a relatively little amount of scientific explanation. Things like ‘atmoscarfs’ and rail cars are simply a part of everyday life on Giant, and we don’t need to think much about them, or understand really anything about how they work in order to be immersed in what they do.

Perhaps the most clever part of all this, is how Jupiter’s harsh climate is used to simultaneously put us further in the future, while sending us back technologically. Residents of Giant have gone back to relying on people to deliver messages and refer to news items read in broadsheets, because presumably Jupiter’s atmosphere is so harsh as to make things like cell phones or wifi untenable (it is not particularly clear to me how much they rely on computers but it seems they must still exist.) And of course, everything is dependent on trains and train schedules since nobody drives (something which is a seemingly amoral artifact of the past as it is just impossible given space and resources of the platforms).

In this way, we have a setting that is rather Gaslamp in its aesthetic, but without any Tolkienesque magic or trappings of Victorian society. If I do end up reading a sequel, I would hope to see a little bit more about how said society (aka government) runs as Giant seems a bit utopian — and honestly quite cozy — despite its seemingly harsh environment.

During my first read through, I thought this book sagged somewhat in its characters. My initial impression of Mossa and Pleiti was that they both felt a bit wooden somehow with most of their history and attraction for one another being implied rather than shown.

Upon discussing the pair with my book club, and searching around on the internet, it’s become apparent to me that at least one but likely both characters are somewhere on the Asperger’s / Autism spectrum. (https://www.reddit.com/r/Fantasy/comments/18ldaje/comment/kdwtfc4/)

In Mossa it’s perhaps more obvious, but also something we’re more familiar with if we’ve ever read a mystery before. She’s focused on all the wrong things (like work and solving murders), while aloof to everything else (like relationship signals and eating the proper amount of meals in a day). She’s intelligent, knows it, and can be somewhat dramatic about it. She’s very reminiscent of detectives like Sherlock, Dupin and Poirot.

I learned that Sherlock in particular is linked with Asperger’s / Autism, with much of his almost superhero-like deductive reasoning abilities attributed to his being on the spectrum. It might be easy to chalk up Mossa’s disorder to contrivance and reliance on detective tropes put forth in Sherlock but given that Older has approached this topic before through the character of in Mishima in the short story Narrative Disorder and later in Infomocracy, I’m more convinced that its representation here is thoughtful and nuanced.

Pleiti is a bit more enigmatic. She’s an academic with some clearly held opinions about right and wrong (and the environment). And I would say that she’s a lot less obvious than Mossa in her presentation, but I still think the shoe fits here as well.

Give This One a Read?

It’s really hard for me to come to a firm recommendation on this one either way. Though the book ended up being more nuanced than I originally thought (and I learned a great deal), the romantic parts still seemed too understated, and I found myself mostly wanting to know more about the worldbuilding.

That’s all I have for this one. Let me know your thoughts. Did I miss anything important? Is anyone excited for the sequel: The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles?