fffriday | Entries tagged with bisexual protagonist

This is the sequel to The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics, which I really enjoyed. It follows a new couple: a printer, Agatha (who appeared in the previous book), and a beekeeper, Penelope. Both are middle-aged and more experienced than the characters in The Lady's Guide, which I found refreshing and the primary draw of the story.

There's some political side plots, but they feel kind of irrelevant for most of the book; I thought the book probably could have been a little tighter. Like the previous book, where there was a lot of focus on astronomy and embroidery, there's a lot of focus on printing and beekeeping. I liked that, and the way that it's tied to the other going-ons in the story, although I think they didn't work as strongly on their own as the astronomy/embroidery plots in the previous book.

Overall this was a slow but enjoyable read for me, and I particularly loved the ending. I'm looking forward to the next entry in the series. :-)

el_staplador

Well, having been put off this one by the rather arch title, and attracted to it by positive reviews from various places, I eventually picked it up when I visited Gay's The Word in August.

This is a romance between a young astronomer and a countess ten years her senior. Lucy Muchelney has been trained by her father, who at the opening of the book is recently deceased. Catherine St. Day is widowed, a patron of science both depended upon and condescended to by the scientific society to which her husband belonged. Lucy presents herself as a candidate to translate an influential work by a French astronomer, and matters go on from there.

The romance is gentle and tender. Both partners have been hurt before but both are prepared to move past that. There's room for assumptions and misunderstandings, and room to correct them. The sex is frank, uncomplicated, and enjoyed (no mention of 'sin' or 'sinful', a particular pet peeve of mine when it comes to romance).

There is, as might be expected, a very strong feminist message, which worked by positioning Lucy as one of many women scientists facing systemic prejudice and exclusion, not 'the first one ever'. I assume that all the names mentioned were fictional; I did enjoy a shout-out to 'a young woman down the coast' who found a 'lizard skeleton'.

If I'm being picky, there were a few places where the period detail was off (for example, the scene where Lucy visits one of the gentlemen of the Society unchaperoned), and rather too much use of 'the countess', 'the astronomer', 'the younger woman', etc - but overall this is an enjoyable, readable romance.

mllelaurel

In eighteenth century Britain, Alice Payne disguises herself as a highwayman and robs rich assholes to pay off her father's debtors, with the help of her inventor companion, Jane. In the future, Major Prudence Zuniga, exhausted and burnt out from fighting a time war whose sides are starting to blur together, plans treason in the hopes of ending the war for good. When these two epic ladies cross paths, mayhem ensues, and it's a joy to read.

These two novellas are, in a word, delightful, a rollicking adventure of history and time travel. The stakes are high - not just for the history of humankind, but on a personal level. Alice could lose her home, her freedom, even her life if she's found out. Prudence knows that changing history can have terrifying butterfly effects, which includes potentially wiping Prudence's beloved sister, Grace, from existence. What Heartfield is very good at is making these stakes very affecting, while maintaining a page-turner pace and a real sense of fun. The story may touch on dark elements, but at its core, it's not a dark story at all. Rather, it's a story about love, family, found and otherwise, and finding hope in a world that pushes you toward cynicism.

I love both the heroines. They are fierce, funny, flawed, and very human. These flaws, in fact, are some of what I like best about them. Alice is impulsive and adrenaline-hungry to a fault. Prudence, a former propagandist, has swallowed a bit more of her old faction's byline than she'd like to admit. Jane, Alice's companion and love of her life, has a chip on her shoulder about being disregarded and left behind.

Speaking of which, I really like Alice and Jane's relationship. Like the characters, it feels very real. They read like women in their thirties, who have been together for years and love each other deeply and comfortably without having lost their spark, and also without their relationship coming off as rose-colored-glasses-perfect. Part of it is, Jane's a fully realized character in her own right, with her own agency and emotional arc, something I've found frustratingly lacking in a lot of lesbian fiction love interests.

The secondary characters, from the temporally-unstable Grace, to Wray Auden, a local constable investigating Alice's highwayman hijinks and facing a 'lawful vs. good' crisis, are just as lovable as the leads. The primary antagonist proves a real threat without reading over the top, in part because you can see how he got there, even if the 'there' is callous and vaguely sociopathic.

Heartfield has a great eye for historical detail, painting the time-travelled history in powerful, unwordy strokes. When we first meet Prudence, for instance, she is trying and failing to save the Crown Prince Rudolph from his suicide at the Meyerling estate for the seventy-somethings time. In the course of the two novellas, Heartfield takes us to the American Revolution, future Canada, and (briefly) pre-Arthurian Britain, and gives us a strong sense of each place. As mentioned previously, Heartfield doesn't shy away from the darker sides of history. Both the heroines are women of color. Alice, in particular, is the manumitted daughter of a British nobleman and a Jamaican slave. The pain of that isn't glossed over, but neither is it dwelled on.

A deft touch, with a plot and characters who manage to have depth without a trace of ponderousness, plus a sweet, likable romance. These novellas made me happy, and so I highly recommend them.

mllelaurel

Since the relationship which makes this review relevant to this comm spans the entire trilogy, I will be talking about all three books here, rather than singling one out. I will try not to drop detailed spoilers, but some later-game reveals might be necessary for context. Please read accordingly.

Millie's life has gone spectacularly to shit about a year ago, following a suicide attempt which left her with two prosthetic legs, brain damage, and metal pins all through her body. She expects to stay in a mental institution until her money runs out, when she's approached by Caryl Vallo, with an invitation to join the Arcadia Project, a secret organization which often hires mentally ill people as liaisons to the Seelie and Unseelie Courts of faerie. Though Millie's not optimistic, and her Borderline Personality Disorder means she has a tendency to alienate those around her, she decides to give it a whirl. For her first assignment, she's tasked with finding a missing faerie noble, and the politics of the courts and the Arcadia Project itself only get thornier and more twisty from there. For one thing, the very magic from which fae and humans alike weave spells may be more complicated and sentient than the Powers That Be would like you to believe. For another, every fae has a human that they are linked to, somewhere out there, called their Echo. The two experience a soulmate-like attraction upon meeting (it doesn't have to be romantic or sexual, but it's very intense.) But more importantly, such links fuel human creativity and make up the backbone of major human progress, while grounding the fae, who are normally incapable of forming long-term memories.

And then, there's Caryl, who may appear competent and no-nonsense at first, but who's just as traumatized, impulsive, and fucked up as Millie. The two are drawn to one another, even though they know any sort of relationship would be a terrible idea. And before you ask, no Caryl isn't Millie's Echo, so they don't even have that convenient excuse for their inability to keep their professional distance.

I've read way too many books with lesbian relationships where I've gone, 'this is fine, they're nice people, they deserve a happy ending,' but nothing about the writing actually made me care. And then there's Millie and Caryl. They are both trainwrecks, and I love them, and I want them to kiss, even if the reasons they really shouldn't are one-hundred percent relevant and important. It helps that they feel like deuteragonists rather than a protag-and-love-interest. Both are vivid and emotional, both have their own scars.

In general, I love Millie in all her prickly, self-destructive glory. Her voice is vibrant, funny, and heartbreaking. The secondary characters are also great, morally gray enough that you can't automatically point at someone and call them a villain or a hero, and even people who do terrible things may have compelling motivations and or personalities. The portrayal of Millie's physical disability and mental illness is top-notch. Neither is sugar-coated, but neither strips Millie of her agency (and boy does she have agency!) The worldbuilding is great. Baker's Los Angeles lives and breathes, and so does her Faerie.

It's worth knowing that A) the books are primarily focused on action and plot, with relationships developing inexorably in the background; B) in addition to Caryl, Millie has another love interest (a guy, whom I also like a lot,) and a fuck buddy (whom I like less, but then so does Millie;) and C) there's no guarantee of a happy ending, all across the board. Nonetheless, the trip is well worth taking.

( Some spoilers on the ending )

mllelaurel

The Nomeolvides women carry the power to make plants grow - whether they like it or not - and a curse which makes those they fall in love with disappear. When the current generation of Nomeolvides girls realize they are all falling for Bay Briar, a dapper, black-sheep scion of the family that owns La Pradera, the land which they garden, they realize they have to do something before Bay disappears too. By way of answer, La Pradera gives them Fel, a boy who doesn't remember his past, and who might have disappeared generations ago.

The writing is lush, almost fairy tale-like. However, there's a tendency to belabor already touched-on emotional points, which left me frustrated and disconnected. Some of the reveals fall flat, and one of the most significant reveals makes all the characters who had not figured it out up to that point look like idiots.

As for the characters, it's been a bit since I've read this book, so my memory's faded, and I can't help comparing it to Labyrinth Lost, which also featured a sprawling extended family of Latinas. To me, at least, the family in Labyrinth Lost was much more vividly rendered and believable. The characters in Wild Beauty are still good, they're still likable. They're just not as real. Fortunately, Bay is one of the better efforts, sharp and likable as a romantic interest. She does eventually come to return one of the cousins' feelings for her, though it's not Estrella's (the POV character.) Estrella's own romance is also likable, though it's with a boy and thus outside the purview of this comm.

On a side note, I had a hunch as I read that Bay might be better described as genderqueer rather than female, and my hunch was borne out by author's notes, but she does go by she/her pronouns, and I figure more genderqueer representation can't hurt.

To sum up: this book is pretty good on both sexuality and gender representation, but occasionally frustrating when it comes to its own narrative.

mllelaurel

Alex Mortiz comes from a long line of brujas, but unlike her mother and sisters, she fears her powers. She's got her reasons. Even normal bruja abilities come with blowback, and Alex's powerful magic comes with danger and death, and shadowy things called maloscuros come to threaten the safety of her family. But when she tries giving back her powers, the canto goes wrong, and Alex's family is taken from her instead.

With the help of her best friend Rishi, and a mysterious boy named Nova, Alex descends to Los Lagos, where souls of the dead go between lives, to get her family back. But the world of Los Lagos itself is in crisis, held hostage and sucked nearly dry by the Devourer, an old and powerful being who might just have her sights set on Earth next, and who is none too happy about Alex standing in her way.

What I liked best about this book was its world. I loved the details of bruja culture and everyday living, from the items which fill Alex's home, to the specificity of the cantos brujas cast (not spells, spells are for witches; cantos are for brujas.) Although the magic and faith practiced by Alex and her family isn't exactly Santeria, or another real-world pagan analogue, you can tell Cordova's done her research even before you get to the author's note. It shows in the vivid verisimilitude of her setting. I loved the eerie, dangerous beauty of Los Lagos, the way its denizens popped off the page, and the way the challenges ahead of Alex felt, well, challenging. I've always been a sucker for descent to the underworld stories; stories of people who'd go to literal or figurative hell for those they love, so the concept was a real easy sell.

As for the characters, I didn't always like Alex, who starts out sullen and wishing to be normal. (Those familiar with my tastes know how little I sympathize with normalcy-seeking characters.) On the other hand, I found her very believable as a person and character right from the get-go, and watching her grow and develop throughout the story was a joy. By the end of the story, I loved her. I found Nova interesting, entertaining, and even sympathetic throughout, for all that his glib inscrutability would have likely driven me nuts in real life. Cordova also does a great job with a lot of her secondary characters, who are memorable despite their relatively-limited page count, especially Alex's older sister, Lula, and the Adas, Rodriga and Agosto. The Devourer is a credible threat, with an interesting background.

And then, there's Rishi, easily the weakest part of the book. Which is a shame, as she's inexorably entwined with the very reason I picked this book up to begin with. Alex is bisexual (which is awesome!) and finds herself attracted to both Nova and Rishi in the course of the story. It's not that I think Alex makes the wrong decision, when she ultimately chooses Rishi, but a) traditional love triangles are stupid anyway, and b) having finished the book, I still have no idea who Rishi is, aside from her being quirky, Guyanese, and into Alex. She falls flat, and with her the love plot. I want to cheer for the same-sex love interest winning the day, but. Eh.

Some of the problem is she has no magic and is a fish out of water in Los Lagos. But Ordinary People (™) can shine in extraordinary settings by being clever and determined. I… guess Rishi is determined, and her faith in Alex is unflagging, but she doesn't contribute a hell of a lot. Even at the point in the plot where Alex and Rishi are on their own, and I think 'hey, now's Rishi's chance to shine…' she still does nothing. She's a love interest, and that's all she is. I'm not sure why there's such a disappointing contrast to the other characters. My only guess is, Cordova was really invested in providing Good Queer Representation (™), didn't want to fuck it up, and overshot in the bland direction.

But on the scale of the book as a whole, that's a nitpick. I really enjoyed Labyrinth Lost and would absolutely recommend it on the strength of its story, world, and cast. I'm really looking forward to the sequel with Lula as the protagonist. The love plot? Eh. But so goes it.

As an aside, it looks like we can't add our own new tags. Will a moderator be eventually tagging posts, or is that a permission that can be granted to members?