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PUB DAY REPOST: Mislaid in Parts Half-Known by Seanan McGuire: One of McGuire’s Best (no matter what series). A Magical Novella

Is it cheating to call a Fantasy Novella “Magical”? Isn’t that part of the definition?


Mislaid in Parts Half-KnownMislaid in Parts Half-Known

by Seanan McGuire

DETAILS:
Series: Wayward Children, #9
Publisher: Tordotcom
Publication Date: January 9, 2024
Format: eARC
Length: 160 pg.
Read Date: December 13-14, 2023 
Buy from Bookshop.org Support Indie Bookstores

Continuity Counts

By and large, the Wayward Children books can be read in any order—sure, things will mean more if you read them in order of publication (so far, anyway). It’s easier that way to catch allusions, understand the depth of relationships, come close to tracking what Sumi is talking about, etc. But you can get away with skipping around.

But you really need to read this one after Lost in the Moment and Found. It’s the closest thing to a direct sequel that we’ve had in this series. It’s also kind of a follow-up to Where the Drowned Girls Go (and, as always, touches on several others).

This is largely Part II of Antsy’s story—the story is shared by a group of the students (my favorites in the series) on one of those quests they’re not supposed to undertake—and whoops, I’ve started writing the next section.

What’s Mislaid in Parts Half-Known About?

Antsy is having a hard time adjusting to life at Eleanor West’s School for Wayward Children, almost as much trouble as she’d be having adjusting to anywhere else on Earth. Part of that comes from not being as honest about her circumstances as she could’ve been—understandably so, I think—which just made everything worse.

Still, there are signs that things may get better, helped a little by Antsy being able to find anything for people. Then Seraphina (who can get anyone—with one or two exceptions—to do what she wants) decides to use her abilities on Antsy to get her to find her Door.

Ansty, Sumi, and some others (I’m not going to name them to keep your interest piqued) manage to slip away using Antsy’s ability to find things and her knowledge of how Doors work, eventually getting back to the Shop Where the Lost Things Go. Which wasn’t exactly where Antsy wanted to be—and she learns that things there hadn’t gone as expected when she left and a whole new quest develops.

Not About Jim Morrison’s Band

When I wrote about Lost in the Moment and Found earlier this year, I said:

This entry would be a worthwhile read for fans if only for this one thing—we learn more about the Doors and how they work. I’m not going to go into it, obviously, nor am I going to promise that every question you had about the Doors will be answered—actually you’ll likely end up with new questions, but they’ll be informed questions.

That’s true here, too. In fact, we learn so much about them that I almost don’t want to learn anything more about Doors for another 8+ books so they don’t get too demystified. McGuire being McGuire, I know that if she reveals a whole lot more in the next book, I’ll end up repeating everything I said prior to this sentence—and I’ll be happy and equipped with more questions.

Regardless—what we do learn here is fantastic. It both makes utter sense—in the way that maybe we all should’ve guessed it already (maybe some did)—in terms of storytelling, worldbuilding, and more. I wonder what (some of) the students understanding this is going to do to things going forward. If anything.

Future Continuity

Speaking of things going forward, something major is on the way for Eleanor West. It’s been hinted at before, but so many things in this book point to it happening soon (but in Wayward Children-time, it could take 3-4 novellas for us to get to “soon”). I’m eager to see it, as much as I’m dreading what it might mean.

One Quick Character Note

Every protagonist of these novellas—and a significant chunk of the supporting characters—has been wonderful. With the exception of Seraphina and her crew*, I like all the students we’ve met at the School and want to know more about them all.

* I’m waiting for McGuire to decide it’s time to humanize them so we readers will root for even them, and we’ll feel bad for not doing so earlier.

But…from the moment we met her, Sumi’s been a favorite of mine. I should probably use the definite article there, actually. So I’m not unbiased when I say that in Mislaid in Parts Half-Known she is glorious, but she really is. She’s funny, she’s loopy, she’s brave, and she’s wise. Hard as that last one might be to believe. She’s also rather clever and displays that at the end.

The main parts of the story belong to Antsy and a couple of other characters—but Sumi stole every scene she was in and I really just want a few in a row featuring her.

So, what did I think about Mislaid in Parts Half-Known?

This is not my favorite Wayward Children book, but it’s close. There aren’t one or two big emotional moments like there typically are in these (at least not that hit me…your results may vary). But there were a handful of small emotional moments that worked so well—in terms of what happened to someone, how it impacted the other characters, and the way that McGuire wrote them—that I don’t care. It might even be better this way.

The worlds we saw were wonderful—really, you could set an entire fantasy trilogy in them without reference to any other. The world hinted at on the cover, for example, could easily sustain a 1,500-page trilogy full of whimsy and danger.

There’s probably more humor and smile-inducing moments here than several of these books combined sport. Which was a nice bit of fresh air (in a series that really doesn’t need it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not welcome).

Naturally, there are characters we’re not likely to see again due to the nature of these books, and I’m going to miss them. Although the endings they got were well deserved and well executed.

I almost always walk away from a Wayward Children book feeling satisfied and a little in awe of McGuire—I think that feeling is larger this time just because of the number of emotional and story notes she managed to hit, the storylines she was able to incorporate and resolve, the ones she just moved forward, and…everything else in 160 pages. It shouldn’t be possible. This book (like most in the series) is bigger on the inside.

A few paragraphs back, I said that this wasn’t my favorite in the series—but at the moment, I’m having trouble understanding why (but I’m going to trust my earlier impulse). But it is so, so, so good. I’m having trouble coming up with adequate adjectives at this point.

Go get this in January. Order it now (and/or request it from your library). If you haven’t read these books yet, go. At a bare minimum, get the first, Every Heart a Doorway, and then Lost in the Moment and Found, so you can be ready for this one when it’s released. You can catch up on the others later.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Tor Publishing Group via NetGalley—thanks to both for this opportunity. The opinions are all mine.

4 1/2 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.
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Mislaid in Parts Half-Known by Seanan McGuire: One of McGuire’s Best (no matter what series). A Magical Novella

Is it cheating to call a Fantasy Novella “Magical”? Isn’t that part of the definition?


Mislaid in Parts Half-KnownMislaid in Parts Half-Known

by Seanan McGuire

DETAILS:
Series: Wayward Children, #9
Publisher: Tordotcom
Publication Date: January 9, 2024
Format: eARC
Length: 160 pg.
Read Date: December 13-14, 2023 
Buy from Bookshop.org Support Indie Bookstores

Continuity Counts

By and large, the Wayward Children books can be read in any order—sure, things will mean more if you read them in order of publication (so far, anyway). It’s easier that way to catch allusions, understand the depth of relationships, come close to tracking what Sumi is talking about, etc. But you can get away with skipping around.

But you really need to read this one after Lost in the Moment and Found. It’s the closest thing to a direct sequel that we’ve had in this series. It’s also kind of a follow-up to Where the Drowned Girls Go (and, as always, touches on several others).

This is largely Part II of Antsy’s story—the story is shared by a group of the students (my favorites in the series) on one of those quests they’re not supposed to undertake—and whoops, I’ve started writing the next section.

What’s Mislaid in Parts Half-Known About?

Antsy is having a hard time adjusting to life at Eleanor West’s School for Wayward Children, almost as much trouble as she’d be having adjusting to anywhere else on Earth. Part of that comes from not being as honest about her circumstances as she could’ve been—understandably so, I think—which just made everything worse.

Still, there are signs that things may get better, helped a little by Antsy being able to find anything for people. Then Seraphina (who can get anyone—with one or two exceptions—to do what she wants) decides to use her abilities on Antsy to get her to find her Door.

Ansty, Sumi, and some others (I’m not going to name them to keep your interest piqued) manage to slip away using Antsy’s ability to find things and her knowledge of how Doors work, eventually getting back to the Shop Where the Lost Things Go. Which wasn’t exactly where Antsy wanted to be—and she learns that things there hadn’t gone as expected when she left and a whole new quest develops.

Not About Jim Morrison’s Band

When I wrote about Lost in the Moment and Found earlier this year, I said:

This entry would be a worthwhile read for fans if only for this one thing—we learn more about the Doors and how they work. I’m not going to go into it, obviously, nor am I going to promise that every question you had about the Doors will be answered—actually you’ll likely end up with new questions, but they’ll be informed questions.

That’s true here, too. In fact, we learn so much about them that I almost don’t want to learn anything more about Doors for another 8+ books so they don’t get too demystified. McGuire being McGuire, I know that if she reveals a whole lot more in the next book, I’ll end up repeating everything I said prior to this sentence—and I’ll be happy and equipped with more questions.

Regardless—what we do learn here is fantastic. It both makes utter sense—in the way that maybe we all should’ve guessed it already (maybe some did)—in terms of storytelling, worldbuilding, and more. I wonder what (some of) the students understanding this is going to do to things going forward. If anything.

Future Continuity

Speaking of things going forward, something major is on the way for Eleanor West. It’s been hinted at before, but so many things in this book point to it happening soon (but in Wayward Children-time, it could take 3-4 novellas for us to get to “soon”). I’m eager to see it, as much as I’m dreading what it might mean.

One Quick Character Note

Every protagonist of these novellas—and a significant chunk of the supporting characters—has been wonderful. With the exception of Seraphina and her crew*, I like all the students we’ve met at the School and want to know more about them all.

* I’m waiting for McGuire to decide it’s time to humanize them so we readers will root for even them, and we’ll feel bad for not doing so earlier.

But…from the moment we met her, Sumi’s been a favorite of mine. I should probably use the definite article there, actually. So I’m not unbiased when I say that in Mislaid in Parts Half-Known she is glorious, but she really is. She’s funny, she’s loopy, she’s brave, and she’s wise. Hard as that last one might be to believe. She’s also rather clever and displays that at the end.

The main parts of the story belong to Antsy and a couple of other characters—but Sumi stole every scene she was in and I really just want a few in a row featuring her.

So, what did I think about Mislaid in Parts Half-Known?

This is not my favorite Wayward Children book, but it’s close. There aren’t one or two big emotional moments like there typically are in these (at least not that hit me…your results may vary). But there were a handful of small emotional moments that worked so well—in terms of what happened to someone, how it impacted the other characters, and the way that McGuire wrote them—that I don’t care. It might even be better this way.

The worlds we saw were wonderful—really, you could set an entire fantasy trilogy in them without reference to any other. The world hinted at on the cover, for example, could easily sustain a 1,500-page trilogy full of whimsy and danger.

There’s probably more humor and smile-inducing moments here than several of these books combined sport. Which was a nice bit of fresh air (in a series that really doesn’t need it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not welcome).

Naturally, there are characters we’re not likely to see again due to the nature of these books, and I’m going to miss them. Although the endings they got were well deserved and well executed.

I almost always walk away from a Wayward Children book feeling satisfied and a little in awe of McGuire—I think that feeling is larger this time just because of the number of emotional and story notes she managed to hit, the storylines she was able to incorporate and resolve, the ones she just moved forward, and…everything else in 160 pages. It shouldn’t be possible. This book (like most in the series) is bigger on the inside.

A few paragraphs back, I said that this wasn’t my favorite in the series—but at the moment, I’m having trouble understanding why (but I’m going to trust my earlier impulse). But it is so, so, so good. I’m having trouble coming up with adequate adjectives at this point.

Go get this in January. Order it now (and/or request it from your library). If you haven’t read these books yet, go. At a bare minimum, get the first, Every Heart a Doorway, and then Lost in the Moment and Found, so you can be ready for this one when it’s released. You can catch up on the others later.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Tor Publishing Group via NetGalley—thanks to both for this opportunity. The opinions are all mine.

4 1/2 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.
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Lost in the Moment and Found by Seanan McGuire: Nothing Comes Free

Lost in the Moment and FoundLost in the Moment and Found

by Seanan McGuire

DETAILS:
Series: Wayward Children, #8
Publisher: Tordotcom
Publication Date: January 10, 2023
Format: Hardcover
Length:  146 pg.
Read Date: January 12-13, 2023
Support Independent Bookstores - Visit IndieBound.org


This ended up being one of those books that I could say almost nothing about or could just as easily have said far too much about. It took me a week and a half just to figure out—I hope—the way to strike the balance.

What’s Lost in the Moment and Found About?

Antoinette (known as Antsy) is a little girl whose life is shattered when her father dies unexpectedly. Her mother quickly remarries for security and her stepfather is the stuff of nightmares. He dismantles her idyllic-sounding childhood, almost removing her from the family. When darker (much darker) things loom, Antsy runs away.

Naturally—well, supernaturally—as this is a Wayward Children book, she’s soon presented with a Door. She steps through it, as sure as someone who isn’t even ten can be. And enters a shop. Unusually for this series, she’s not in a new world—but a shop. The Shop Where the Lost Things Go to be precise.

The shop is managed by an old woman named Vineta and a very large (and talking) magpie named Hudson. In addition to the Shop being the place that Lost Things go—those that are needed by their owners can come be retrieved. There is a Door in the Shop that Antsy can open to other worlds (Antsy’s door, and that of those coming to Find something, appears in a different location)—there’s never any telling what world will be on the other side of the Door. If it looks appealing, Vineta and Antsy will go through and purchase some things to sell in the Shop (and feed themselves), otherwise Antsy will close the door and try again.

At some point, Antsy begins finding ominous notes trying to tell her something—will she figure out what the notes are trying to tell her in time?

Worldbuilding

One of the more entertaining things—for me, anyway—about this series is hearing about worlds that we don’t get to spend time in (or more than a quick glimpse, anyway). Just a brief mention along the way to some other point, and you get to fuel your imagination for a bit. Given this setting—and the way the Shop flits between worlds for Antsy and Vineta to go pick up stock, Lost in the Moment and Found is rife in these glimpses, hints of what else is out there. I had so much fun with that—McGuire’s really created a universe for these stories where she can indulge any whim she has for storytelling and it’d work.

But that’s not really what I wanted to talk about.

This entry would be a worthwhile read for fans if only for this one thing—we learn more about the Doors and how they work. I’m not going to go into it, obviously, nor am I going to promise that every question you had about the Doors will be answered—actually you’ll likely end up with new questions, but they’ll be informed questions.

Depth of Darkness

On the whole, this series hasn’t featured “bad guys”—largely, the antagonists have been people with competing visions for the way things ought to be. People who were trying their best, but who couldn’t understand their children (before and/or after their door)—and so on. A lot of people you don’t want to be around and you don’t want to see have much success as they are, but typically it’s possible to see where they’re coming from and why they do what they do (as much as you might object to it).

But in this book? There are a minimum of two evil characters. People that need to be stopped, and you sort of wish Toby Daye would make a cameo and do what she does best.

McGuire’s painted some bleak circumstances for her Wayward Children—but this seems bleaker (I haven’t spent a lot of time reviewing the older books, so I’m prepared to be corrected) and darker than we’re used to. There’s a period where you can forget that, where it almost feels like Antsy is out for a very long lark and everything will be a fun adventure.

I don’t know if this is a turning point and that we’ll see more books like this in the years to come. I doubt it—I think this is a story that needed to be told, but we’ll be back on more familiar ground—with a more familiar tone—soon.

So, what did I think about Lost in the Moment and Found?

This is clearly a personal story of McGuire (just read the Author’s note that precedes the text) and there’s a rawness to the writing that isn’t typical for this series (or McGuire, period). But it’s oh, so fitting.

I find myself slipping into misconceptions about this series—I enjoy the characters (so many of our protagonists are just loveable), the concept behind the series and West’s school, and so on—it’s easy to remember the nonsense worlds, the joy that characters frequently experience in finding a Door, going home, or leaving home that you forget that almost everyone goes through a Door from our world to get away from something. When I pause to write something like this or describe the series/a particular novella to someone—all of that comes rushing back. Only to be forgotten again until I start reading the next book.* Antsy’s situation is perhaps the most disturbing we’ve seen—and what she ultimately finds in the shop is equally (but in a very different way) unsettling.

* I hope I’m not alone in that, but I have to assume the rest of you are more careful in your reading/remembering.

The novella is not all dire and troubling—there’s a lot of fun to be had as we follow Antsy. The quick excursion to the lost animal department could’ve filled a novella or two. The reader might see some old friends out of the corner of their eye, too. Most importantly, there is hope. That last line is earned (as we’re told time and time again, nothing comes free), and is so reassuring.

Unsurprisingly, I recommend this book—unlike most in the series, I don’t think this would serve as a good entry point. It’s a good number 8 (these are all novellas, so reading eight of them isn’t that big of an investment). It’s raw, it’s unsettling (at the very least), it’s emotional, and it’s full of some of McGuire’s best prose. I’m sure those who’ve read 1-2 (or all seven) others don’t need me to say this, you’ve probably already read them. But for everyone else, it’s time to start reading these books.


4 1/2 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.

The Friday 56 for 1/13/23: Lost in the Moment and Found by Seanan McGuire

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from Page 56 of:
Lost in the Moment and Found

Lost in the Moment and Found by Seanan McGuire

On the other side of the door, where the shop should have been, a jungle stretched all the way to the horizon, fat, round-trunked trees dripping with vines and flowers, their twisting branches reaching for the sky like the spread fingers of enormous hands. Something moved in the deep foliage, and brightly colored birds perched on the vines, clacking their beaks and calling to each other at the sight of her.

It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Antsy stepped through the door. Only one foot; she was at least clever enough to leave her other foot solidly on the wooden floor of the thrift store. One of the vast, bright-petaled flowers was close enough for her to lean over and pluck it before retreating back through the door and closing it behind her. The flower didn’t disintegrate when pulled into the thrift store. It remained in her hand, bright and blooming, petals almost the same color as a good, ripe watermelon.

She stared at it, trying to understand how this could be happening.

The Friday 56 for 1/14/21: Where the Drowned Girls Go by Seanan McGuire

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it

from Page 56 (and a little bit of 57) of:
Where the Drowned Girls Go

Where the Drowned Girls Go by Seanan McGuire

The matron narrowed her eyes. “Can scarecrows talk?” she repeated, tone clearly implying that there was only one right answer, and it wasn’t the one she expected from Emily.

…Silence and blending into the background were Cora’s forte. She was good at it. But she was also a hero, and heroes didn’t stand idly by while someone smaller was victimized.

“Scarecrows don’t talk,” she scoffed, loudly enough and clearly enough to guarantee she would be overheard. The matron stiffened. Cora acted like she hadn’t noticed, continuing blithely, “They’re just straw stuffed into old potato sacks. If scarecrows could talk, that would mean straw could talk, and if straw could talk, grass would be able to talk, and no one could mow their lawns.”

Where the Drowned Girls Go by Seanan McGuire: A Mermaid Saves Herself

Where the Drowned Girls GoWhere the Drowned Girls Go

by Seanan McGuire

DETAILS:
Series: Wayward Children, #7
Publisher: Tor 
Publication Year: 2022
Format: Hardcover
Length: 150
Read Date: January 10-11, 2022
Support Independent Bookstores - Visit IndieBound.org

And everyone knew that things from the other side of the door could absolutely leak through into this reality. Her hair had been brown, not aquamarine, before she found her fins. Christopher would die without his flute—literally die. Seraphina was the kind of beautiful that stopped hearts, and everyone who’d seen pictures of her from before her travels said that she hadn’t always been like that. She’d been attractive, not impossible. The doors made changes. The doors stayed with you.

What’s Where the Drowned Girls Go About?

Things have gone poorly for Cora since her return from the Moors, and things are getting worse for her. She’s now afraid of getting a door—because it might not lead to the world she wants. So now that “other school” starts to sound appealing to her. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to feel at home in this world—it’s certainly better than one of the alternatives. There’s no way that she’ll get those tools at this school (as much as she likes/loves her friends).

So she talks West into transferring her—and regrets the decision before the ink is dried. Still, she sets out to make the best of a bad situation—it’s still going to get her the results she’s been desiring, just not in a pleasant way.

Cora tackles the situation in a “no pain, no gain” manner. West’s school wasn’t helping (at least not the way she wanted), the Whitethorn Institute isn’t going to save her, it’s up to Cora to save herself.

Whitethorn Institute

“You’ve always said that there was a second school.”

Eleanor pulled her hands away. “The Whitethorn Institute. Cora, you can’t intend—”

“You said they steal your students sometimes. That when you’re not fast enough, or when the children are having a harder time adapting to life in this reality, that sometimes Whitethorn gets there first.” She sat up straight, giving Eleanor a challenging look. “You said it was where students go when they want to believe that everything that happened on the other side of the door was just a dream, or a delusion, and not a real thing at all.”

We’ve known about “the other school” for children who come back through their doors into our world—one for those who didn’t want to see their doors again, one for those who want to feel at home in this world. But this is the first time we’ve seen it.

It is not a nice place to be.

That’s about all I feel comfortable about saying—you’ll need to read the book to see how it’s not a nice place to be. I get that (especially as the series takes a pro-Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children stance) it’s not going to seem as nice, welcoming, and affirming as the school we’re used to. I expected that this school would come across as wanting, not just in contrast, but objectively,

But I think McGuire approached that idea in a lazy manner. It’s too obviously a bad environment. She had the chance to go subtle, and she didn’t take it. I kept thinking, “Oh, she’s making a commentary about X or Y” in the real world—but she was doing so with too broad a brush, and it’d end up applying to things she didn’t mean to attack.

Still, if you’re looking to make an establishment a villain, she did an effective job. I think it’d have been more interesting—and more fitting with the series—if there’d been more nuance to it. Give the readers a second school that has differing goals from the Home for Wayward Children, but let us respect them while disagreeing—then you’ve got something. Instead, we get an institution that might as well be twirling its mustache.

Regan

It’s not just Cora that we see here, Regan’s also came to this school after returning from the Hooflands. I appreciated that. I didn’t think we had enough of Regan—but it didn’t feel like the character would be showing up at West’s.

So, what did I think about Where the Drowned Girls Go?

McGuire is simply one of the best around—and this world she’s created in this series is just wonderful and I really enjoy all the time I spend in it. But this book seemed to be missing something. The previous books in the series all left the possibility open to revisiting the world on the other side of the door, the POV character, and so on—while telling a complete story.

This novel is also a complete story—but it feels (at least to me) too much like a Part One of at least a two-parter (if not three). And I think the book suffered from it. When we get to that second part, I might change my mind about this book, but now it just feels incomplete. Add in my problems with the presentation of Whitethorn and it makes for a less-satisfying read than I’m used to for this series.

I still recommend it as a read—you’re instantly sucked into this world, it’s fantastic to get a look at Whitethorn (if nothing else); the story of Cora, Regan, and the others is well-worth telling and reading; and McGuire’s language and imagination in this series are always fascinating. I just wanted more of this good thing.


3.5 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Across the Green Grass Fields by Seanan McGuire: The Sixth Wayward Children Novel is a Let-Down

Across the Green Grass Fields

Across the Green Grass Fields

by Seanan McGuire
Series: Wayward Children, #6

Hardcover, 174pg.
Tor, 2021

Read: January 25-26, 2021
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

Regan slowed again, suddenly eager for her journey to take as long as possible. Maybe that was why the shape in the nearby growth caught her eye, and she stopped abruptly, sending a pebble clattering into the creek as she cocked her head and blinked at what was surely a trick of the light.

Two trees had grown around each other, branches tangling and twisting like the wicker of a basket. They looped in and out of one another’s embrace, until they formed what looked almost like a doorway. That was interesting, but not unique; branches often grew together, and the shapes they made in the process could be remarkably architectural. She’d seen castles in the trees when she was little, castles and dragons and all manner of fabulous things.

But she’d never seen a doorway before.

What’s Across the Green Grass Fields About?

Regan is ten-years-old when she finds this doorway, but we meet her when she’s a little younger. We see her making regrettable, entirely predictable (and understandable) mistakes when it comes to friendship, the kind of mistakes that shape her social future in ways she can’t imagine. We readers cringe, hope she’d make better choices, and then just wait to see how bad the damage is going to be when she realizes (probably too late) that she’s befriended and trusted the wrong sort of person. Other than that mistake, she seems like a sweet girl, she loves horses and riding, her family, and her friend.

The day after she learns something devastating from her parents, she learns that lesson about trust the hard way and runs away from school into the less-developed area between her school and home.

As children do in this series, she walks through that doorway and finds herself in a new world. The first person she meets (a centaur) tells her it’s called The Hoooflands. And she is excited to find a human. Humans arrive in The Hooflands when something is about to happen—when something that is plaguing their society will be confronted and defeated by the human (who have thumbs and can fit in places a centaur can’t, so there are two big advantages for the human).

But first, the centaur takes Regan to meet her family. And then years pass. She matures, she sees the errors she made in trusting the wrong people on Earth. She picks up skills, she learns who she is. Yes, she misses her family, but this is home to her and she’s content.

The Hooflands

…and there were people. Centaurs like the ones Regan knew. More delicate centaurs with the lower bodies of graceful deer and the spreading antlers to match. Satyrs and fauns and minotaurs and bipeds with human torsos but equine legs and haunches, like centaurs that had been clipped nearly in half. It was a wider variety of hooved humanity that Regan could have imagined.

On the one hand, I really like this world—of all the worlds on other sides of doors that we’ve visited in this series, it seems more viable than any of them (except maybe for maybe The Goblin Market), it takes a little less suspension of disbelief to see how the world works (once you accept the population, anyway).

At the same time…there’s something about this society that I don’t understand how it functions at all given the way that other species see each other. Obviously, this is a not-at-all-thinly-veiled metaphor for our society, but even metaphors should have some sort of air of believability. Maybe it’s just me, but every time that came up, it took me out of the story for a bit, because I couldn’t understand how the world functions (set aside justice and morality, I’m talking just in terms of practicality). It’d take too long to flesh this out, so I won’t. But it bugged me.

The individual people we spend time with in The Hooflands? Loved ’em.  They’re the best characters we’ve met in this series that weren’t connected to the School. I resented how much time McGuire let pass between chapters because I wanted to spend more time with them and to understand the Centaur culture a bit more.

So, what did I think about Across the Green Grass Fields?

It had been more than five years since Regan ran away from school on purpose and ran away from home by mistake.

So begins the endgame for this particular novella, Regan heads off to meet the Queen and do what she was brought to the Hooflands to do once and for all, and then (she assumes) to get her door back home. She doesn’t really want to leave the Hooflands, but circumstances are forcing her hand.

This is the crux of probably my biggest problem with the book—she’s spent five years telling anyone who’ll listen (primarily herself) that she doesn’t believe in Destiny, she won’t bend to Destiny. But in the end, that’s exactly what she does. I’m not going to get into a debate about determinism here, but Regan would be a great Exhibit A for my case if I wanted to.

This is not a subtle book, McGuire has things she wants to say about destiny, about the choices that others make on behalf of others that are just as binding as the choices they make themselves. And she goes about it in a blatant, almost ABC After School Special* manner. And this series is better than that. Or it usually is.

* Readers of a certain age might want to consult with a parent to fully understand that reference

I liked Across the Green Grass Fields, but this is not up to either McGuire’s standard or the standard of The Wayward Children series, and it was far enough short of those high marks that I’m having trouble generating much enthusiasm for it. The language, the storytelling style, the imaginative world were there. But they were overshadowed too frequently for my taste by the rest.

I was disappointed. Hopefully, you’re not, or if you were, it doesn’t put you off from trying the rest of this really wonderful series.

I fully expect (and hope) to see Regan at Eleanor West’s School for Wayward Children in the future and look forward to seeing what happens after she makes her way back home (even if I don’t think it’ll go well for her long-term). I’ll be back for the 2022 novella in this series, eager for what McGuire has in store, confident it won’t be like this.


3.5 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Top 5 Saturday: Sibling Relationships

Top 5 Saturday Sibling Relationships

The Top 5 Saturday weekly meme was created by Amanda at Devouring Books.

Rules!

  • Share your top 5 books of the current topic—these can be books that you want to read, have read and loved, have read and hated, you can do it any way you want.
  • Tag the original post (This one!)
  • Tag 5 people (I probably won’t do this bit, play along if you want)

This week’s topic is: Sibling Relationships. If the Weasley family doesn’t immediately spring to mind once you think about siblings, there might be something broken in your mind—ditto for the Pevensies. But I wouldn’t let myself use them. The more I wrote in this list, the more relationships came to mind that I don’t have space for–that’s very annoying (a lot of fun, too), I hate to leave some of these off. I don’t know why I didn’t grab sibling relationships that are more than a pair (the aforementioned groups, the Spellmans or Tropper’s Altmans would’ve worked)—I’m assuming it’s because I had one sibling myself, so I tend to think of pairs rather than 3+?

Sibling relationships are tricky to depict—they’re all a little different, but there are some typical aspects. There’s a shared history (even if individuals react pretty differently to them, and remember them differently); jealousy/rivalry—usually tempered by some sort of affection and loyalty; usually a bit of reflexive self-sacrifice (frequently malgré lui); and a kind of honesty you don’t get from anyone else.


Raistlin and Caramon Majere

from: Dragonlance Chronicles, Dragonlance Legends
by
Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman

This is the first sibling relationship that really sticks out at me (post-juvenile fiction, anyway). They need each other (in healthy and unhealthy ways), but really don’t like each other. There’s a love and a bond that’s nigh-unbreakable, don’t get me wrong, but man…Raistlin treats his brother like trash. I remember regularly being so upset with him for that (and a little bit now just thinking about it), but Caramon keeps coming back for it. He never gives up on his twin. Even when—especially when—he absolutely should. It’s a nuanced and complex relationship and is likely one that I judge many other fictional representations by.

Side note: I really need to re-read the first couple of Dragonlance trilogies.


Jack and Jill Wolcott

from: Wayward Children
by
Seanan McGuire

(art by Rovina Cai)
While I do wonder if McGuire had come back to this well one time too many in this series, there’s clearly something about this fractured relationship (huh, another set of twins, with one more to come…didn’t mean to do that) that clearly resonates with readers and the author. If there’s anything healthy in their relationship when we first meet them, it’s gone by the most recent volume—but they’re the textbook definition of inextricably linked. To their detriment, yes, but that’s beside the point. Fascinating pair.


Scout and Jem Finch

from: To Kill a Mockingbird
by
Harper Lee

Scout worships her brother (doesn’t stop her from being frustrated with him frequently) and Jem’s clearly devoted and protective of her. I’ve loved reading about these two since I first met them in Mme. Dobbs’ English class* in high school and I’ll probably love it for the rest of my life. They’re not ideal, but they’re pretty close.

* she also taught my French class, so I reflexively think of her with that title)


Doug and Clair Parker

from: How to Talk to a Widower
by
Jonathan Tropper

Alas, I don’t have a picture of them—Tropper doesn’t inspire a lot of fan art. Yeah, Doug and Clair’s relationship echoes any number of the sibling relationships in Topper’s work. This is honestly the first pair that jumped to mind when I compiled this list. The honesty, the humor, the prodding/pushing, and care between the two is one of the best parts of this novel (probably my favorite of his). Great interplay between the two. Neither Doug or Clair remind me of my sister or myself individually, but for some reason, their relationship made me think about our relationship.


Harry Dresden and Thomas Wraith

from: Dresden Files
by
Jim Butcher

(art by Mika-Blackfield)
Sure, these two weren’t aware of each other for most of their lives, so their shared history has only to do with their mother. Still, the bond, the love, the loyalty that everyone thinks of when it comes to brothers is perfectly depicted with these two. They’re probably my favorite sibling pair that’re still being written about—I just hope they both survive ’til the end.

Come Tumbling Down by Seanan McGuire: Jack and Jill’s Final (?) Showdown in the Moors

Come Tumbling Down

Come Tumbling Down

by Seanan McGuire
Series: Wayward Children, #5

Hardcover, 206 pg.
Tor Books, 2020

Read: January 8-10, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children was an island of misfit toys, a place to put the unfinished stories and the broken wanderers who could butcher a deer and string a bow but no longer remembered what to do with indoor plumbing. It was also, more importantly, a holding pen for heroes. Whatever they might have become when they’d been cast out of their chosen homes, they’d been heroes once, each in their own ways. And they did not forget.

I wanted to do an Opening Lines post for this book, but I couldn’t decide where to stop—maybe around page 6 (which is a little too long for that kind of post). Seriously, it took less than a page for me to fall in love with this book.

It’s a typical day at Eleanor West’s School for Wayward Children (assuming such a thing exists) when a door appears, but instead of someone getting to go to their “home,” two figures emerge. One is a complete stranger, the other is Jack. Well, sort of. Close enough for our purposes here.

Things on the Moors have gotten to a crisis point where only one of the Wolcott twins can survive—Jack or Jill. Jill has struck first and things are dire. Jack recruits a couple of her friends and classmates to return with her (she was relatively certain she could return them to the school) to aid her in confronting her sister. They used to be heroes, they will be heroes again—as often as needed—much to Eleanor’s chagrin.

Once in the Moors, a dark and nasty place to be sure, dangers that no one (save maybe Jack) could’ve predicted present themselves and threaten the lives of the students in horrible and chilling ways. Culminating in what appears to be a final encounter for the sisters.

I love the way that McGuire writes these books, and Come Tumbling Down is no exception. It is full of the typical whimsical, fantastic and nigh-poetic language and ideas. If you’ve read a Wayward Children book before, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t . . . it’s hard to tell you. Here’s a sample or two:

“This is terrible . . . I mean we knew it was going to be trouble . . . but this is bonus terrible. This is the awful sprinkles on the sundae of doom.”

“A little knowledge never hurt anybody,” said Sumi.

“Perhaps not. But a great deal of knowledge can do a great deal of harm, and I’m long past the point of having only a little knowledge.”

Sumi was Sumi. Spending time with her was like trying to form a close personal relationship with a cloud of butterflies. Pretty—dazzling, even—but not exactly companionable. And some of the butterflies had knives, and that was where the metaphor collapsed.

Jill had always been the more dangerous, less predictable Wolcott, for all that she was the one who dressed in pastel colors and lace and sometimes remembered that people like it when you smiled. Something about the way she’d wrapped her horror move heart in ribbons and bows had reminded him of a corpse that hadn’t been properly embalmed like she was pretty on the outside and rotten on the inside. Terrifying and subtly wrong.

“wrapped her horror movie heart in ribbons and bows” is pretty much worth the purchase price of the book.

I’m glad that I enjoy—relish, really—the language like I do, because there’s not a lot of plot or action here. There’s enough, but there’s an awful lot of talk both around and before the action really gets underway. That’s not a wholly bad thing, and I enjoyed all of it, it just seemed self-indulgent.

It felt to me that McGuire’s reached the point of diminishing returns with this one, it’s been one too many trips to the Moors and it’s time for other Wayward Children to get the focus. Thankfully, that seems to be the plan.

I don’t think this would be a great introduction to this series (but it would function okay that way) if you’re not going to read them all in order, I feel safe in saying that it needs to be read after Down Among the Sticks and Bones. This is a good way to return to the world and revisit some of these characters. I can’t wait to see what happens in the next volume.


4 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

In an Absent Dream by Seanan McGuire: Another Wayward Child’s story — magical, enchanting, heartbreaking. You know the drill.

In an Absent DreamIn an Absent Dream

by Seanan McGuire
Series: Wayward Children, #4

Hardcover, 204 pg.
Tor Books, 2018
Read: January 9, 2019

           …the worst she was ever called where anyone might here was “teacher’s pet,” which she took, not as an insult, but rather as a statement of fact. She was Katherine, she was the teacher’s pet, and when she grew up, she was going to be a librarian, because she couldn’t imagine knowing there was a job that was all about books and not wanting to do it.

Here’s a quick recap of this series for those of you who haven’t heard about it yet/have ignored everything I’ve said about the series these last few years: Imagine Children who go off to a magical kingdom for a bit from our world — Narnia, Fillory, the Lands Beyond, Neverland, Lyrian, whatever you call that land on the other side of the fourteenth door in Coraline, etc. — and then return home. Some will go on to live “normal” lives — others can’t forget or outgrow their attachment to the magical world — some of those, those who want more than anything to return to whatever was on the other side of the door wind up at Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children. This series is about some of those children.

There’s a basic outline to these books — McGuire introduces you to a Child and a new world. Her language will be lyrical, playful and enchanting. She’ll draw you in with the awe and wonder and while you’re not looking, she’ll set the hook, and you will be as emotionally tied to her characters as you are close family members*. Then something devastating will happen to those characters, and you will feel horrible, yet love the experience. No matter what kind of resolution is found in the book (death, rescue, brokenness), when you close the book you’ll almost instantly start waiting until the next book comes out, because McGuire is just that good.

In this book we meet Katherine — Katherine’s never been good at making friends her age (there are justifiable reasons for this), but she likes talking to adults more, she likes rules, and she loves reading. There’s something about each Wayward Child that readers can identify with, but Katherine is more relatable to readers than the others have been. One day, Katherine comes upon a tree that hadn’t been there before. This tree had a door in it, and before she realized what was happening — she was on the other side of the door, walking down a hall, on her way to a Goblin Market. In the last book, we saw a nonsense world — this is a logic world, through and through. There are rules, enforced by everyone who lives there — and somehow, by the world itself.

Unlike that (mostly) tongue-in-cheek outline above, each of these books are so different from the rest, it’s hard to compare them — so I’ll try not to. But the structure of this seems more different than the others have. So I’m not going to tell you any more about the plot than I have — I’ll just say it’s a great story, incredibly well told — and even when the narration tells you the ending is not going to be “kind”, you keep expecting/hoping/wanting for things to work out for Katherine and her loved ones.

I’ve made the ending sound bad — it’s not “happy,” but I’m not complaining, I’m not criticizing, I’m most definitely not warning a reader away. It’s the right ending for this story, it’s absolutely how things needed to go — but this is not the Feel-Good Novella of the Year. It is wonderfully written, beautifully written, imaginative, awe-inspiring, delightful, and eventually heartbreaking. McGuire’s one of the best at work today — and this is proof of it.

Yes, you can read these out-of-order — but I don’t recommend it. And hey, were talking 200 pages or less each, you’ve got time for that. You’ll be glad you did (once you stop feeling horrible)


  • That might be a bit hyperbolic.

—–

5 Stars

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