The Lesser Joke: book reviews and more

Book Review: A Mirror Mended by Alix E. Harrow

Book #161 of 2022:

A Mirror Mended by Alix E. Harrow (Fractured Fables #2)

I enjoyed A Spindle Splintered for its fresh take on fairy tales (by means of a terminally-ill young queer woman from our world discovering she’s an iteration of the Sleeping Beauty trope and then traveling throughout the multiverse rescuing some of her counterparts), but this sequel novella doesn’t reach nearly the same delirious heights for me. That previous protagonist is back, and she’s now found her way into the Snow White mythos, where she immediately sparks romantic chemistry with the first wicked stepmother figure she encounters. That’s a fine development / premise, but there aren’t as many different realms on display in this title, and the heroine’s arc doesn’t seem as clear or as urgent as before — she’s mostly just trying to find a way to save the repentant queen from the fate she’s both brought upon herself and had thrust upon her by the shape of her story. This book is overall less remarkable than its predecessor, and while I can’t tell if the series is intended to continue beyond the ending here, I’m not sure that any future volumes are going to make it onto my priority list.

[Content warning for gore.]

★★★☆☆

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Book Review: Fair Warning by Michael Connelly

Book #160 of 2022:

Fair Warning by Michael Connelly (Jack McEvoy #3)

This 2020 novel is the third title to center on reporter Jack McEvoy, an otherwise peripheral figure in author Michael Connelly’s broad Harry Bosch / Mickey Haller franchise. He’s always an interesting change of pace from those more frequent protagonists, and I pictured them yelling at the character along with me at the beginning of this story, when he voluntarily talks to the police and gives them a sample of his DNA after learning he’s a suspect in a recent murder. (One of the minor antagonists even turns out to be an employee at a tech lab who has previously falsified criminal evidence, so I was fully expecting this rash decision to come back and bite the hero, though it weirdly never does. Still: don’t talk to the cops without a lawyer present, and don’t let them search your property or take your DNA without a warrant.)

While Jack knows he’s innocent and is less concerned about being arrested and convicted anyway than I would be in his position, the information that he’s a person of interest — he had a one-night stand with the victim a year ago — prompts him to look into the matter, eventually discovering it’s the work of a heretofore-unknown serial killer. The justification for the ensuing investigation is a little wonky, since the journalist’s beat is consumer protection and the women were apparently targeted by someone who accessed the personal data they submitted to a genealogical research company like 23andMe, but the taut cat-and-mouse thriller that develops is creepy and unpredictable in all the best ways. McEvoy’s limitations as a civilian with no law enforcement training or instincts further distinguish the affair, as they have for his previous outings, and the result is a definite page-turner. As a reader who’s found the Bosch series to be growing somewhat stale of late, I’ve really enjoyed this one.

[Content warning for incel sexism, suicide, gore, pedophilia, and rape.]

★★★★☆

Book Review: The Alloy of Law by Brandon Sanderson

Book #159 of 2022:

The Alloy of Law by Brandon Sanderson (Wax and Wayne #1 / Mistborn #4)

[Disclaimer: I am Facebook friends with this author.]

Brandon Sanderson’s original Mistborn trilogy from 2006 to 2008 fits squarely in the genre of high fantasy, presenting a sword-and-sorcery world in which gifted individuals can push and pull on the metal around them (in addition to other talents). His plan has always been to someday revisit that setting much later in its timeline, when technology based on those same magical principles has progressed to modern levels and beyond, allowing for a science-fiction atmosphere instead. But in 2011 he had an idea for an intermediary stage, roughly analogous to our 19th-century wild west, and a creative writing exercise to explore the period eventually grew to become this novel. Although initially intended as a standalone glimpse at the era, it would later be followed by an additional three sequels, deepening the plot and bringing in greater connections to Sanderson’s wider ongoing Cosmere saga.

The latest/last of those is due to be published next month, but so far, I think this first volume of the quartet is my favorite. The shift in tone is a lot of fun, and the writer is at his best when handling the elaborate choreography of the Allomantic combat scenes. The introduction of guns keeps this from ever feeling like a repeat of the skirmishes in previous books that all involved simpler weaponry, but the main characters have wisely been given a somewhat different assortment of powers, too. Whereas Mistborns like Vin could alternate along the entire range of Allomancy, pushing and pulling against nearby metal as the situation requires, our new protagonist can only push, resulting in an alternate strategic approach as he fights. He is also a Feruchemist, able to increase or decrease his body mass at will — and since his primary ability sends the lighter object careening away, they combine together for all manner of clever exploits. These are shootouts like none I’ve seen elsewhere, and are just incredibly entertaining to observe throughout the text.

Wax’s friend Wayne (sigh) has a new power as well, fueled by a refined alloy that was unavailable centuries earlier. He can create a bubble of compressed time around himself, so that outside events seem to happen more slowly and he can react seemingly instantaneously from an onlooker’s perspective. That’s admittedly less of a unique concept, but it’s equally delightful to see in action, especially since this sidekick figure is such a devious cad, often using his skill not to get the upper hand in a brawl like the hero, but to rapidly change from one disguise into another or to hold private conversations that no one else can hear. He’s a great comedic addition to the tale, and his gift with imitating accents and observations on their impact are interesting from a sociolinguistic view, too.

The story here is simple but effective, mostly serving to allow for a number of classic western tropes like train robberies, masked bandits, and rogue lawmen with some distinctive Sanderson flair. Waxillium himself can be a bit dour — which is why I’m not as taken with his later adventures, I expect — and the title strays into some uncomfortable darkness at times, as per my warnings below. But it’s largely a thrill that doesn’t overstay its welcome, at least for now.

[Content warning for gun violence, gore, post-traumatic stress disorder, copaganda, and rape.]

★★★★☆

Book Review: The Silvered Serpents by Roshani Chokshi

Book #158 of 2022:

The Silvered Serpents by Roshani Chokshi (The Gilded Wolves #2)

Given the fairly direct character parallels, this sequel continues to read like Six of Crows fanfiction with the serial numbers barely scratched off. (If author Roshani Chokshi hasn’t read that bestselling YA fantasy series about a teenage heist gang whose members so clearly resemble her own cast, it’s an extraordinary coincidence and still an issue that a competent editor should have cautioned against.) And that’s fine, so far as it goes! It’s an engaging concept, and even though this volume’s high levels of angst make it less fun than its predecessor, there remains that delirious National Treasure vibe to the worldbuilding, where seemingly no artifact can be hidden or deadly trap rigged without some elaborate riddle hinting at a solution. The Crow knockoffs are a good match for such circumstances, despite spending a majority of this novel in painfully-obvious mutual pining situations that a quick conversation could clear up or missing the equally apparent warning signs of the eventual villain reveal.

Ultimately this title’s biggest fault is probably that it’s the middle book of a trilogy, a slower stretch of story that introduces new complications but never quite gets around to resolving much before the inevitable cliffhanger ending. Little here is actively bad, but it’s not particularly distinctive for the genre, either. I expect I’ll push on to the next/last installment at some point — for the continued autistic Jewish representation, if nothing else — but I can’t say that I’m in any hurry for it.

[Content warning for antisemitism, racism, domestic abuse, slut-shaming, rape, and gore.]

★★★☆☆

Movie Review: Doctor Who: The Power of the Doctor (2022)

Movie #18 of 2022:

Doctor Who: The Power of the Doctor (2022)

The beginning of this latest Who special is a bit chaotic, and the whole thing moves so quickly that I feel as though we’re missing a few steps of necessary premise-setting exposition, like why the Daleks have agreed to ally themselves with the Master and his army of Cybermen. (Sorry — CyberMasters, as these are the ones he made on Gallifrey at the end of season 12. That’s noteworthy because they can now regenerate when killed, a neat upgrade that’s fun to finally see in action.) And the villain’s big ploy of forcing the Doctor to regenerate into a copy of himself likewise seems to have a few explanatory holes that keep the drama from landing at the level it needs. It’s not clear what happens with his original body during that time, for instance, or why he couldn’t simply kill his enemy and call himself the Doctor to accomplish the same ends of ruining her reputation.

But the episode settles into itself as it goes along, and the guest/cameo appearances from previous stars of the show are categorically lovely and well-integrated into the plot. On some level, sure, it’s blatant fan-service to bring back those old faces, whom casual viewers in a modern audience won’t all recognize. But there’s always thematic depth in considering the past that the Doctor regularly flees from — the in-universe explanation for the vagaries of casting changes over such a long serialized production — and I appreciate that this story finds other beats to play than similar established setups like 2006’s “School Reunion.” Doctor Who has nearly six decades of rich history to draw upon at this point, and it’s a rare delight to get so much of it on the screen at once.

I’m also pleasantly surprised by how well Jodie Whittaker’s final outing here works as a farewell to her entire run, bringing back a few key figures and elements important to her specifically and not just the franchise at large. Despite the Classic cast members running around, the script maintains a fairly tight focus on this particular Doctor and allows her to shine in her final hour. She even gets to throw on her old welding goggles again! It’s a fitting departure for her incarnation and showrunner Chris Chibnall alike.

My biggest disappointment about this last Thirteenth Doctor adventure is that there’s no follow-up / conclusion to the mini-arc of her companion Yaz’s romantic feelings for her, a promising development which was introduced two episodes ago, pushed slightly further and left open-ended in the next, and could have really benefited from additional screentime here. Knowledge of the women’s recent dynamic adds a certain weight to their interactions, but that’s all on the viewer and the actresses. At a level of strict dialogue, there’s nothing framing Yasmin Khan as different from any other friend of the Doctor, and that’s a frustrating mishandling of an idea that seemed like it had such potential when first raised in “Eve of the Daleks.” Maybe the Big Finish audios or other licensed works will someday flesh out this aspect, but for now it remains an abrupt treatment that gestures at queer representation more than it actually delivers.

Still: that’s a criticism of 2022 Who as whole, and these specials are meant as essentially discrete installments, which is why (together with their length) I’ve been reviewing them as movie equivalents. There’s no way for a Doctor Who regeneration special to entirely stand alone, of course, and this one in particular leans heavily on what’s come before for its stakes and its impact. But grading it as a self-contained event, I think it accomplishes everything it sets out to do. It’s a high-octane reunion extravaganza that centers its heroine and sends her off triumphantly. All that and a truly inspired Boney M needle drop, to boot.

[Content warning for gun violence.]

★★★★☆

Book Review: The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

Book #157 of 2022:

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon (The Roots of Chaos #1)

The middle of this fantasy novel is pretty good! But the beginning is terribly slow — I actually quit the ebook at 33% when I tried reading it a few years ago, and was only able to come back to restart and get through it all now on audio — and the ending descends into a lot of generically-motivated chaos. Characters from rival lands meet for the first time and immediately start working together, with no trust issues or sense of conflicting desires. The general structure here is sound: seed protagonists around a wide world, get readers to invest in their individual arcs, and then unite them over time as the story tightens. But in practice, it feels like the various good guys recognize that designation and ally themselves more or less automatically, which isn’t especially interesting or believable to observe. The villains, too, don’t seem to have much depth beyond the inherent villainy associated with that role.

The worldbuilding is decent but not outstanding. Author Samantha Shannon has taken the George R. R. Martin approach of leaning heavily on genre-standard medieval European archetypes whilst deepening the different cultures represented so that everything still manages to feel distinctive. And although institutional homophobia appears to be present, such that the two major same-sex romances both have to be kept as secret affairs outside of marriage, the basic representation there, like the inclusion of multiple skin tones and people with disabilities, is appreciated. Indeed, my favorite thread of this book by far is the gradually blossoming love between the main heroine Ead and the foreign queen she has sworn to protect.

But too many other elements struggle to justify themselves or cohere into anything stronger, particularly in a work of over 800 pages. Folks coincidentally cross paths at the exact right/wrong moments as the plot requires, and there’s altogether too much attention paid to side matters like uncovering the true events of a millennium ago that have shaped the world’s faiths or gathering the proper assemblage of magical macguffins needed to kill the evil dragon and save the day. Overall I’ve liked this title enough that I’m glad to have finally gotten around to finishing it, but I can’t say that I’d be in a hurry to return for any sequels.

[Content warning for gun violence, torture, gore, miscarriage, incest, religious intolerance, depression, and suicide.]

★★★☆☆

TV Review: Happy Endings, season 2

TV #50 of 2022:

Happy Endings, season 2

This is probably never going to be one of my favorite shows, but it’s improved so much between seasons that I’m willing to round up my rating accordingly. Every single character feels more sharply defined, and while Penny frequently proclaims this the “year of Penny,” it’s really Alex who’s been transformed the most, landing on a ditzy yet profound personality that…. doesn’t exactly jive with the romantic heroine of season 1, but is more than funny enough to forgive the retcon. Dave’s the only member of the cast that the writers still don’t seem to have cracked, as he often ends up alone against the other five friends: either as straight man to their shenanigans or as stubborn maker of bad decisions that the rest of them soundly mock. But at least he’s less of an ostensible lead by now, and is easier to put up with in the smaller doses that ensue from that restructuring.

The series is still not particularly serialized — maybe even less now, given the distance from the wedding that initially kicked everything off — but there are a few running threads this year like Max’s unlicensed limo service or Alex and Penny moving in together that add some semblance of momentum to the proceedings. Most of all, though, this is simply a funnier and more creative sitcom in season 2. The jokes are great, and they’re coming at a breakneck pace a la 30 Rock or Arrested Development that almost merits a second viewing just to catch them all. More callbacks and recurring characters. Less gay stereotyping. Overall I’m quite pleased with the improvement from one year to the next, and way more understanding of why some folks seem to like this show so much.

[Content warning for gaslighting and jokes about office shootings.]

★★★★☆

Book Review: Our Missing Hearts by Celeste Ng

Book #156 of 2022:

Our Missing Hearts by Celeste Ng

An unexpected misfire from acclaimed author Celeste Ng. While it’s clear this novel is a very personal project that she’s poured a lot of herself into, and the anti-Asian bigotry throughout is as painful to read as intended, there’s just not much story or character here. The setting of a dystopian near-future America is chilling enough, in an ‘It Can’t Happen Here‘ sense, as the writer has absolutely captured the ways in which overt fascism could take root under the guise of patriotic U.S. values (to a greater extent than it already has, of course). But it’s not a great sign that that’s the strongest part of the title, since it has significant issues itself.

The basic premise is that a trade war with China has led domestic xenophobia to spike and oppressive legislation to be passed, tightening government control over school / library materials and mandating that children can be removed from parents deemed unsuitable along any ambiguous ideological criteria. It’s all scarily plausible, with plenty of historical and modern parallels, although there’s weirdly no discussion of some of the marginalized populations who in reality would be hurt the most by such a move: queer, non-Christian, disabled, etc. Child separation in the book is seemingly motivated only by racism, which feels like a real misunderstanding of how right-wing extremism tends to target and harm all minority identities alike even when some are more of a locus than others.

Against this backdrop, we are presented with two protagonists. The first, a twelve-year-old boy, has no particular plot arc other than experiencing the uneasy times and vaguely searching for more information about his mother, who walked out on him and his dad three years ago and now appears to be a public enemy of some kind. Then midway through the text when he finds her, we switch mostly to her perspective, filling in the family and society backstory more fully.

And she’s a pretty odious person, in a way that the narrative never seems to understand or confront. Her major crime, beyond being Chinese American, turns out to have been writing a bit of poetry that’s caught on amongst protesters and subsequently been banned. Justifiably afraid that the authorities would seize her son if she continued her regular life, she leaves her husband to raise him alone, with no reason given for why the two couldn’t have simply accompanied her wherever she’s fled. Shortly thereafter, she knocks on the door of a Black couple whose daughter was shot and killed at a march holding a sign with her words on it, centering her own pain despite how minuscule it must be compared to theirs. She even characterizes herself to them as having lost a child too, when, again, she is the one who walked away from her very much still living nine-year-old!

It’s hard to believe we’re meant to sympathize with this angsty poet and deadbeat mom, despite how she reads like an uncritical author stand-in. When she first reconnects with her boy, she’s engaged in a mysterious project involving hiding things on the street when the police aren’t looking. Has she joined a terrorist / resistance cell? Is this some sort of violent direct-action praxis against the horrible status quo? Spoiler alert: no, not really. She’s merely putting out a network of portable speakers, which culminates in her broadcasting stories of missing children until the connection is traced back and she’s (presumably) detained. That’s the big achievement she’s thrown away her family and years of her life for — a brief address that only a limited number of passersby could have even heard, and which could have been easily printed or distributed online to a wider audience with a fraction of the effort, time, and risk. It would be a strange development even if it led to a reckoning with her negligent parenting behavior, but instead it’s cast as a bittersweet triumph that may someday contribute to a shift in the tide of public opinion.

Ng has enough baseline competence as an author, sympathy for families in turmoil, and pointed observations about how close we are to a full-on McCarthyist nightmare that the resulting novel is not a complete loss, but it’s nowhere near the quality of her previous work. I give this 1.5 stars, reluctantly rounded up.

[Content warning for rape.]

★★☆☆☆

TV Review: Bob’s Burgers season 9

TV #49 of 2022:

Bob’s Burgers season 9

After watching roughly an episode a day for the past eight months, I’m now caught up to the point I was at in 2019 when I quit this program before. I noted back then:

“As expected for an animated sitcom this far into its run, Bob’s Burgers is still amusing but rarely delighting in this most recent season. The series has put in the character work for so many years that its humor can still go to some fantastically weird specifics, but no one seems to be growing much anymore, which is a big part of what I look for in a show.”

In other words, this is a quintessential three-star, like-but-don’t-love title for me, and while I’m planning to stick with it this time around to see season 10 and beyond (including that whole movie they finally made!), I’m tempering my expectations significantly. Funny comfort-watch television is fine for what it is, but I’m not sure Bob’s Burgers has any genuine surprises left in it by now.

★★★☆☆

Book Review: The Golden Enclaves by Naomi Novik

Book #155 of 2022:

The Golden Enclaves by Naomi Novik (The Scholomance #3)

Because of the way that this YA fantasy trilogy has been structured, the concluding volume is at a bit of a disadvantage right from the start. Book one introduced a magical boarding school in a pocket dimension where Lovecraftian monsters feed on unwary students, and book two brought the conflict there to a crescendo as our prickly heroine and her classmates / reluctant friends approached the end of their senior year and battled their way through to the graduation portal. When this final novel picks up immediately afterwards with El back in the relatively safe and mundane real world, it’s hard not to long for the dark and claustrophobic halls of the familiar Scholomance setting and the perpetual underlying thrum of tension that shepherded us through the previous stories.

There are a few continuing plot points — some drama with the enclave wizard communities here on the outside; the old family prophecy that the protagonist is going to turn evil someday; her trauma and grief over the companion who stayed behind in the last title and is now presumed dead yet eternally suffering — but in general, this is a big reset for the series. New characters, concerns, and narrative rhythms are all required, and it’s a somewhat uneven transition until author Naomi Novik finds her footing again. Which she eventually does, to be clear! Once this finale settles into itself, it’s every bit as fun and violent as what’s come before, and it furthers the streak of righteous indignation at unjust systems that fueled El’s actions at school.

The writer has saved some wickedly Sandersonian worldbuilding twists for the last, as the whole enterprise of conventional magic in this universe turns out to rest on exploited children to a degree we never could have realized, and Galadriel Higgins is the perfect catalyst for upending everything about that dynamic whilst remaining sympathetic to the privileged individuals who didn’t know any better and will inevitably be hurt by the fallout. In one great early scene, a group of people she’s rescued are flabbergasted when she declines any personal reward to instead demand as payment that they open up their beautiful enchanted gardens to the public. There’s so much about this society of sorcerers that’s cravenly transactional in a not-especially-veiled metaphor for capitalism, and I love how our viewpoint figure rejects that compulsion so utterly throughout, in an ever-escalating sense of outrage and determination to find a kinder alternative. Not since Red Rising have I cheered this much for a character ripping a civilization’s sins out at the root.

So I can forgive the meandering filler in the initial stages of this volume, like those interminable visits to one enclave after another or some weightless speculation about the nature of unreal spaces, since the endgame works so well once it finally arrives. (And El gets a new female partner too, bringing a note of queerness to her story that fits perfectly but I don’t remember being indicated beforehand.) On balance I’d have to say that this is my least favorite of the three books — I just miss the Scholomance itself so much! — but it’s a fittingly epic and satisfying conclusion to this remarkable coming-of-age saga.

[Content warning for gore.]

This volume: ★★★★☆

Overall series: ★★★★☆

Volumes ranked: 2 > 1 > 3