Creation myths and story love

It’s been some time since I fell as deeply into a story as I did with N.K. Jemisin’s The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. Strangely, I say that even though I started reading it on vacation and had to put it aside for a couple of weeks after I got home. But when I picked it up again I fell right back in. That’s how much I retained my love of the characters and storyline.

This adult fantasy is a fresh take on creation myths and gods. I adore the volatile Nahadoth the Nightlord, and the child-like Sieh the Trickster. The “I” telling the tale is Yeine, a girl who at first seems to be a pawn in a deadly struggle but she turns out to be key to something entirely new. And she is badass through and through.

The story opens when Yeine is commanded to come to the city of Sky where her maternal grandfather, who is uncrowned king of the world, names her one of his heirs, much to her shock and the fury of others. She learns quickly that only one of his three heirs will succeed him, but she doesn’t find out what that entails for quite some time.

She is only half-blood of the powerful Arameri people. They are tall and pale. She is short and dark. The Arameri consider her people in Darr to be barbarians and treat her with disdain.

 The truth is Arameri are the most ruthless of all the lands. They are worshippers of the Bright Itempas, the god who created the world with the now-enslaved Nahadoth and now-dead Enefa.

We learn slowly with Yeine as she navigates Sky what the true histories of these gods and mortals are, their secrets and lies, their betrayals and bonds, their despair and hope, their rage and love.

This is the first book (and it was a debut!) in a trilogy. I definitely want to read the rest.

Here, have a few excerpts for voice and style.

 *

There were three gods once.

Only three, I mean. Now there are dozens, perhaps hundreds. They breed like rabbits. But once there were only three, most powerful and glorious of all: the god of day, the god of night, and the goddess of twilight and dawn. Or light and darkness and the shades between. Or order, chaos, and balance. None of that is important because one of them died, the other might as well have, and the last is the only one who matters anymore. 

*

"I cannot hope that your mother taught you duty," Dekarta said to me over this man's back. "She abandoned hers to dally with her sweet-tongued savage. I allowed this--an indulgence I have often regretted. So I will assuage that regret by bringing you back into the fold, Granddaughter. Whether you live or die is irrelevant. You are Arameri, and like all of us, you will serve."

*

Trickster, trickster, stole the sun for a prank. And apparently because it was pretty. The Three had borne many children before their falling-out. Sieh was immeasurably old, another of the Arameri's deadly weapons, and yet I could not bring myself to dash the shy hope I saw in his eyes.

*

It would do no good to run. So I said, "Good evening, Lord Nahadoth." I was proud that my voice did not quaver.

He inclined his head to me, then just stood there smoldering and looking ominous at the foot of my bed. Realizing that a god's sense of time was probably very different from a mortal's, I prompted, "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

A gorgeous, windy day for exploration and words

wind whips across the
Sound, carrying deep-water
chill and flinging gulls

brrrrrr. Haiku while walking at low tide along Puget Sound

hints of spring haiku

a gathering of
juncos dethrones a plump robin
from the budding peach tree

pair of woodpeckers--
female and jaunty-capped male
share the suet feeder

YA for our times

In a time when being an immigrant is politically charged and when some people want to retreat behind walls of fear and hate, I read two excellent YA books that I highly recommend for people who prefer to explore and be open to other cultures. These aren’t happily-ever-after stories. They are bittersweet and do not flinch from spotlighting what makes any of us mistrust the “other”.

 In THE SUN IS ALSO A STAR, Nicola Yoon (National Book Award finalist) writes the love story of two really smart teenagers who, in the space of a day, discover deep truths about themselves, their families and culture, and the world they exist in.

Natasha is a girl who has faith in numbers, science and facts, probably solidified in reaction to her father. His dream of becoming a famed actor has left her family in poverty. But worse, his DUI leads to the discovery they are illegal immigrants from Jamaica who must leave the US immediately.

Daniel, a poet, is Korean American. His immigrant parents demand the best grades and professions from their sons. He is supposed to be interviewed for Yale when a series of events lead him to Natasha. For him, it’s some kind of sign or destiny.

She has no time for that, but something keeps drawing them closer together. Sure, there’s physical attraction but their budding love has more to do what they discover in the heart and soul of the other. They both know there will be no welcome for them as a couple in their families or communities, even if Natasha somehow finds a way to stop the deportation.

I listened to The Sun is Also a Star on audiobook, so I don’t have a way to quote lines, but I’ve listened to it twice now. That’s how much I love it.

WRITTEN IN THE STARS by Aisha Saeed had me turning pages at all hours as I became more and more terrified for the protagonist, Naila, a Pakistani American.

Even though she is raised in the US and has excelled in school, her parents keep the old ways, strict and unbending. Not only is she not allowed to date, they will choose her husband. But, as things go in both stories and in real life, Naila bends the rules and sets in motion an alarming series of events.

We’ve read news stories about forced marriages and honor killings, but what the author has done is take the reader into the life of a girl suddenly confronted with those horrors, a girl who had no idea this could happen to her.

At the same time, the story finds moments of hope and love.

The copy I purchased has a discussion guide at the end. This makes it an excellent choice for schools and book clubs.

 Of interest, too, is the distinction between forced marriage and arranged marriage. The author states she is happy in her arranged marriage. As well as being an author, she is a lawyer and founding member of the nonprofit We Need Diverse Books.

Shortest day, darkest night, moment of hope

Yesterday, the eve of Winter Solstice, my daughter and I went hiking in our favorite neighborhood forest where the air is always sweet with the scent of Douglas fir and Western red cedar. And we stumbled upon this...

The dictionary defines magic as the use of charms or rituals that produce extraordinary results, marvelous effects.
Sometimes magic just sneaks up on you. I don't know who built this labyrinth, but it had a marvelous  effect on me. I've been feeling down in these dark days, and this mystical surprise lifted my spirits and filled me with wonder.
Here are the beautiful stones in its center where my daughter and I both paused to drink in the forest as we took turns walking the labyrinth.

Even my own backyard made magic of the winter solstice when I noticed the sun shining though this metal sculpture of a labyrinth.

Here's to brighter days and moments of hope and magic in our lives. Happy Winter Solstice, everyone.

reflection while walking

after the rainfall,
the pathway littered with leaves
and reflections

haiku while walking in dark times

Haiku and other thoughts of the season

October wind sends
leaves whispering, skittering
through the graveyard

There is a beautiful memorial park near my home where I sometimes walk when I  want peace, lots of enormous old trees, and a sea of emerald.

In fall, the palette expands.

Once I slipped into the mausoleum and was stunned by the stained glass everywhere.

Occasionally, melancholy creeps over me in cemeteries, but mostly I feel peaceful--a sense of being connected, in communion, to those who've been, those who are, and those who are still to come.

That seems appropriate on the Day of the Dead.

Echoes of past and present in stunning audiobook

I have never heard a more beautiful audiobook than the Newbery Honor novel ECHO by Pam Muñoz Ryan, author of some 40 books including award-winning Esperanza Rising and The Dreamer.

The story, or actually several entwined stories, is haunting and important to the times we live in as it deals with the fallout of bigotry, injustice, and hatred. The book begins with a fairy tale that introduces a magical harmonica whose destiny is to save someone’s life.

 Over time, the harmonica passes into the hands of Friedrich, a boy in Nazi Germany who yearns to be a composer but is bullied because of a birthmark on his face. The mouth harp gives him solace as his family is torn apart and he is threatened with being put in an asylum.

 The harmonica finds its way from Friedrich to Mike, an orphan living in an institution in eastern U.S. with his younger brother. The instrument brings him comfort and hope that he might save them from an even worse fate.

 Finally, another musical prodigy, Ivy, the daughter of itinerant farmworkers in California, is given the same harmonica. Ivy faces discrimination at school and sees it at the vandalized farm her father is trying to maintain for a Japanese-American family sent to an internment camp. Despite all this, Ivy finds a sense of pride and purpose in her growing musical skill.

 The audiobook brought me to tears more than once as it infuses the children’s heartrending stories with glorious music performed on cello, piano, and, yes, harmonica.

 Music on the recorded version is by Corky Siegel, a blues harmonica and piano player who composes for symphonies and chamber orchestras.

 ECHO is so good I want to read the print version to savor the words on the page, but I also want to listen to the audio again for the sheer delight of Brahms, Bach, Beethoven, Rodgers and Hammerstein, and more. I got the audiobook from the library, but this is one I’d love to own.

Lake haiku times three

little boat lost,
the lake gives and takes with ebb
and flow, wind and wave

heron, statue still,
waits, stalking, then flies to more
secluded dining

and there were eagles

Today on the lake. Bald
eagle hunts from land and sky.
Fish heads on the shore.

spring into haiku

glorious death
of camellia blossoms
brightens my path

I love to compose haiku while walking...

the lake haiku

between November
storms the lake stretches, settles,
breathes in out in out

Boo!

My carvings this year.

And the things that go bump in the night (or day).

The neighbors...

These people go all out. :)

Even the spiders are in the holiday spirit.

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Small masterpieces: The stories of Kij Johnson

At the Mouth of the River of Bees is an astounding collection of stories. I rarely read short stories, preferring novels, and although I have loved some shorts, I have never read an entire collection that took my legs from under me like this did. Kij Johnson is without doubt a master of this form.

 Even more surprising is how different all the stories are and how each has a resonance felt after the last sentence. She never loses the thread of what the story is truly about. The emotional payoff of The Man Who Bridged the Mist is a thing of beauty. 26 Monkeys is clever, yes, but not a gimmick--it is deeply satisfying. The stories are so powerful I remember each one just looking at the titles.

Warning: one story, Spar, is definitely way too much for children or prudish adults, but if you are neither of those it is a brave piece of writing, going beyond inhibition into pure being/surviving.

Johnson puts her characters in strange, alien, off-kilter places but never loses the core of what it means to be human, to navigate the waters of life.

Disclaimer: I recently took a Clarion workshop with Kij Johnson, which was a day well spent. I had already read most of these stories and formed an opinion of her powerful skill. Meeting her did not change this review, it just made me admire her more. And, for the record, she brought up 26 Monkeys, saying she wrote it disjointed like grief is, a string of momentary details adding up to something bigger.

A writing snippet from Monkeys: No one seems to know how the monkeys vanish or where they go. Sometimes they return holding foreign coins or durian fruit, or wearing pointed Moroccan slippers. Every so often one returns pregnant or leading an unfamiliar monkey by the hand. The number of monkeys is not constant.

From Wolf Trapping: It was after midnight and nearly pitch dark. There was a full moon somewhere overhead, but heavy clouds concealed most of the sky. The wind was stronger, pushing loose snow along the ground in needling waves. There would be no way to follow her tonight. She would have to find her own way home.


For my writing friends here are a few nuggets Kij offered in that workshop:

Her goals--To change how people see something. Make it immersive enough they are carrying it with them, so they lose track of time and reality and the story comes out into the real world with them.

How weird can something be and still be accessible?

Understanding the mechanics of real life fiction is essential to understanding speculative fiction.

In an estranged, alienated experience, we are playing with the fact the readers know what we are writing is not true. We should start out slow, gathering information. She gave an example of Hunger Games--"We don’t start with Panem, we start with being hungry."

She noted that mainstream fiction also gets the need for setting. The first thing the reader is going, 'oh my god where am I and what do I need to do?'

And that needs hyper-precise focus--for instance, the character isn't seeing the whole spaceship but this moment, this room.

She discussed novum--the new thing that changes things. And that isn't one thing that's different but lots of things. "You have to bring something else, something they haven't seen before or a deeper place they haven't been before."

Collaboration super power

Scott Westerfeld, Margo Lanagan, and Deborah Biancotti spoke at my local indie bookstore, Third Place Books, last night, and, well, it left me panting to go to a pub with a couple of writer friends and brainstorm. That’s how their collaborative YA book, ZEROES, was born.

“We met at a pub every week for about four hours,” Westerfeld said. “We drank beer and talked about super powers. As you do.”

Okay, I’m all smiles by now.

I’ve long been a fan of Westerfeld’s imaginative storytelling. When I was first learning how to write a novel (as opposed to nonfiction, which had been my career), I studied his three-part organization of UGLIES, a book I adored for its biting view of societal constructs on physical beauty.

And Lanagan’s lush descriptions and haunting tale swept me away in BRIDES OF ROLLROCK ISLAND. I can still feel that place somewhere deep in my bones.

I’m not familiar with Biancotti’s work, because she’s published mainly in Australia. All three writers are winners of prestigious awards and come from Sydney.

 Biancotti had worked on a television show and fell in love with the writing room model, where writers bounce ideas off each other. “It was so much fun, so much more energizing and invigorating,” she said. “The ideas got crazier and weirder and more awesome.”

 Lanagan, who’s a literary writer of spec fiction and winner of four World Fantasy Awards and two Printz Honor books, said she spends most of her time writing alone, sometimes coming to the end of a draft to find it’s flat. But with this collaboration she said, “You have this sort of instant testing lab. You watch ideas disintegrate…or float rather beautifully.”

 Westerfeld calls collaboration a super power of the human species, and said when the three of them worked together it was like a hive mind. And that resembled somewhat how the characters in the story they were creating worked.

 In ZEROES, six teens have powers that set them apart, and they need each other to survive.

Each of the three authors wrote two of the characters, and they are proud that readers who know their styles couldn’t figure out who wrote what. “We did kind of breakdown each other’s styles,” Lanagan said. “We referred to it as the fourth voice,” Biancotti added.

One of the characters, Anon, is particularly interesting, because no one, not even the other Zeroes, can remember him. Westerfeld described him as the character from the film Momento turned inside out so that instead of the character having short-term memory loss it happens to the people around him.

All the characters were born in 2000, hence being zeroes, and they’re “internetty,” according to Westerfeld.

Will the three authors return to writing alone after they finish the Zeroes trilogy? Well, they all have projects of their own but plan to use skills they’ve learned working together. Biancotti said she’s a lot braver now. “I’m playing dare with myself.”

Laini Taylor's epic storytelling and glorious writing

At 613 pages Dreams of Gods & Monsters could easily have been divided into two books, but I’m not complaining because this final book in Laini Taylor’s trilogy is epic and touched me deeply.

Epic as in heroic, majestic, and legendary—masterful world-building and character arcs. And on top of that it retains the joy, whimsy, and gorgeous lyricism of so much of Laini’s writing, including the playfulness of the relationship between teen friends Karou and Zuzana that began the trilogy.

 The moments when characters say or think funny asides breaks the darkness and feels authentic despite the otherworldliness of portals in the sky, warring angels, and killed chimaera brought back to life with stolen teeth and bone and the personal pain of the resurrectionist, who is Karou. In another life, she had saved the angel Akiva on a battlefield and fell in love with the enemy, starting a shift in the world.

The story tackles the impossibly huge concepts of good and evil, of bigotry and learned hatreds, of the steely strength of love (of all kinds) in the face of pain and horror. We’re talking torture, rape, genocide.

 And all the while, despite treachery, betrayal, and gut-wrenching loss, the characters dig inside themselves and keep moving forward, sometimes utterly alone and sometimes with the help of others.

A great way to get the scope of this journey is from the simple (and simply devastating) lines that open each book in the trilogy:
 Book 1: Daughter of Smoke & Bone: “Once upon a time, an angel and a devil fell in love. It did not end well.”
 Book 2: Days of Blood & Starlight: “Once upon a time, an angel and a devil held a wishbone between them. And its snap split the world in two.”
 Book 3: Dreams of Gods & Monsters: “Once upon a time, an angel and a devil pressed their hands to their hearts and started the apocalypse.”

Upon the structure of those lines are built intricate societies and worlds beyond imagining (well, not beyond Laini’s imagining). And love that is truly epic.

I don’t want to give away the story, but I recommend the series to any reader who loves fantasy with deep layers and gorgeous writing.

 (My Goodreads timeline says I started this book a year ago, and although I bought the glorious hardback then I didn’t read it until now. Life was beyond busy, and I didn’t want to start such a long book until I had time to read it through. I’m glad I waited because I was able to lose myself in it.)

 Here’s a sample of Laini’s lyrical and unsettling writing: ‘In the Far Isles it was night, and the new bruise that blossomed in the sky would not be visible until dawn. It wasn’t like the others. Indeed it soon engulfed the others—all of them lost in its dark sprawl. From horizon to horizon it spread, deeper than indigo, nearly as black as the night sky itself. It was more than color, this bruise. It was warp, it was suction. It was concavity and distortion. Eidolon of the dancing eyes had said the sky was tired, and ached. She had downplayed the matter.’

Secrets of Selkie Bay, middle grade built of love

I wish I could be about 10-years-old again so I could discover Secrets of Selkie Bay as a kid, curled up with the book, lost in the magic on the pages. I did that anyway even though I’m long past childhood (on the outside only). This latest middle-grade novel by Shelley Moore Thomas stole my heart.

On the first page Cordie Sullivan’s hollow pain is clear as she says her mother is gone and her father can’t or won’t say where she is because “there just aren’t that many words left anymore.”

Cordie, 11, is left to watch over her two younger sisters, one still a baby, while her father tries to find enough work to keep food on the table. She takes on responsibility beyond her years: “Someone had to pick up, since Da left his things everywhere—socks that were on the floor and never found the hamper, and waterfalls of blankets that trailed down the side of his unmade bed.”

After a couple of months, Cordie finds a letter addressed to her from her mother tucked in an old copy of A Child’s Book of Selkies, a collection of folklore about seals that sometimes become human. The letter says Mum doesn’t want to go but must. And here the magic weaves into the story. Are selkies real? Is their mother a selkie gone home to the sea? Is that why she had to leave?

The fishing village where the Sullivans live cashes in on selkie lore during tourist season, but Cordie is skeptical. Her sister Ione believes fervently that their mother has gone to the secret island she once tried to show them. Aside from the mystery, the story delivers realistic sibling relationships, parents with flaws but lots of love, and a nudge toward respecting nature.

 I love so much of the writing—crisp, moving: “Facing west toward the waves, we stood and did the only thing we could think to do . . . Just us, the three Sullivan girls, crying our seven silver tears into the sea and letting them float atop the foam, hoping they would bring our mum back to us.”

 There is a surprise at the end. I could easily have read more, but I’m pleased that the magical elements remain elusive, leaving the reader to wonder and question. There is no question at all about the power of love, which is the heart of the story and shines on long after the final page is read.

Highly recommend for middle-grade readers. Disclosure: Shelley is a friend I met through blogging, Twitter, and face to face at SCBWI.

Crooked River, great title, satisfying read

Crooked River is such a great, evocative title for the debut YA novel by Valerie Geary. The setting of this story is a strong character in its own right taking the reader to a secluded meadow along a river in Oregon where two suddenly motherless girls live with their eccentric father in a teepee.

 The story is deep and crooked and wild like the river, opening with the girls finding a dead woman floating near the “best swimming hole this side of anywhere.”

Beautifully written, it’s told in alternating chapters from 15-year-old Sam’s perspective and 10-year-old Ollie’s. The girls have been traumatized by their mother’s recent death and seem detached at first. Sam finally decides they should do something about the woman. Ollie says nothing at all.

When Sam tries to pull the woman from the water she loses her grip and the body is sucked away. “I splashed in after her but stopped when the water reached my knees. Heavy spring rains and melting snowpack had turned Crooked River into a thundering flood. Boulders protected our swimming hole from the violent current, but past that, where I stood now, the river gathered itself up again...”

 After the woman disappears, Sam thinks maybe she hadn’t been real. “But my heart was thumping so fast it hurt and the hair on my arms stood on end, and I could still feel her cold flesh under my fingers, still see her face, her hollow eyes staring up at me. She was as real as real gets, and we had lost her.”

 Loss is a recurring theme in the story. The girls’ father disappeared from their lives for years without explanation. Their mother died without warning. They are confronted with violent death, as well as a real threat of losing their father again as a murder investigation focuses on him. Sam is torn between her love for him and a distrust born of past experience. Ollie is battered by something no one else knows is happening—she sees the ghosts of the dead, following, clinging, whispering.

 I was captivated by this atmospheric story start to finish. There are moral dilemmas, secrets, lies, heartbreak, and trauma. Sam trying to protect her father by withholding evidence makes the case against him stronger. The girls sometimes are crazy reckless trying to prove their father’s innocence, but I understand the desperation and that kids learn as they go, making costly mistakes, as we all have done.

The ending doesn’t tell the reader what happens to all the players, but it doesn’t need to. What it does is deeply satisfying, bringing us back to family, love, and a special place where nature continues its cycle of renewal, as do the humans who dwell there.

 I can’t complete this little review without mentioning the bees. Sam helps her father care for his beloved hives and sell the golden honey, which sent me to my honey jar with a spoon more than once. (The Secret Life of Bees had the same effect on me.) All that talk of honey. “…warm and fresh from the hive when it tasted like all the best parts of summer melting sweet on your tongue.”

This story is going to stick with me. I highly recommend Crooked River for teens and adults. (Disclosure: I’ve never met Valerie in person, but I know her through blogging and Twitter)

When flying is fun, a little floatplane love

Yesterday was a slice right out of heaven. Sat on a dock in early morning sunshine waiting for a plane from Kenmore Air (north Seattle) to Victoria, Canada. Aren't they cheery, these yellow-and-white birds floating at the dock?

 No long security line. No TSA groping. Just swiped my passport and boarded with two other passengers.

 The de Havilland Beaver floatplane is cozy. From my back row seat I could see the pilot and a bit of the instrument panel.

 We kicked up a little rooster tail of water as we glided over the water and then lifted off Lake Washington. (They hand out earplugs to mute the roar of the engine.) Kenmore Air has been flying since 1946. About 125,000 people board their planes annually to destinations in western Washington and Canada. The company is known for maintenance of floatplanes like the Beaver and de Havilland Otter built in the 1950s and 1960s. The planes, which have both air and water rudders, are favored for rugged design and ability to take off and land in short spaces.

 The views were gorgeous as we flew over Puget Sound.

 Landed smoothly in Victoria and watched other floatplanes and boats as we cruised into the harbor to dock.

Victoria’s water taxis have to win a cuteness award. Right? Like they belong in Roger Rabbit.

 My daughter and I had tea at the Empress.

 And we wandered Chinatown, where we saw a working phone booth (!!!) and a not-so-functional phone booth in an artsy coffee house. Fabulous coffee, too.

 Return flight was aboard the larger Otter. Again gorgeous views and smooth flight. Next shot is over the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Olympic mountains beyond.

 A nice view of Mt. Rainer and the city of Seattle greeted us on return.

 A final note on how this is so, so different than commercial airline flight. There is a safety speech when you board, short and to the point—the placement and workings of the exit doors and handles, the life vests…and the location of the survival kit. These are bush planes, after all. Exciting, right?

Deception Pass will get you

Wobbly knees, anyone?

Surprised myself when my knees got a bit wobbly and I clutched my phone/camera in a vise grip sure I'd drop it 200 feet to the swirling water below. This is Deception Pass Bridge connecting Whidbey and Fidalgo islands in Washington. The two-lane motor bridge is more than a quarter mile in length with a three-foot pedestrian walkway. We walked over and back, having already hiked trails along the forested cliffs.

At one spectacular moment, two bald eagles soared right over our heads mid-way across the bridge. What a thrill! The nearby Upper Skagit River Valley has one of the largest populations of wintering bald eagles in the continental U.S.

Look closely and see the steel arch of the bridge through the trees. The trails, some quite narrow and rocky, are breathtakingly close to sheer drop-offs but the jade color of the water is equally breathtaking. The area was carved by glaciers and is a deep channel connecting the Strait of Juan de Fuca with the Saratoga Passage.

Before the bridge was built in 1934 by Civilian Conservation Corps and local farmers, travelers would hit a metal saw with a mallet to call a ferry operated by the first woman ferry captain in Washington, Bertie Olson.

Travel+Leisure lists the Deception Pass bridge as one of the scariest in the world.
It is certainly also one of the most beautiful.

Deception Pass State Park has 35 miles of trails with almost 15 miles of saltwater shoreline.

It was a most excellent day, which I recommend to anyone visiting Washington.