Book Review: Shades of Milk and Honey by Mary Robinette Kowal

 

Imagine Jane Austen’s novels.  Then imagine Jane Austen’s novels with magic.  Are you imagining it?  It would be pretty cool, right?  You’re right. It’s pretty cool.  Also, you can stop imagining now because you can read it instead.

Mary Robinette Kowal wrote a little book called Shades of Milk and Honey.  It is written in the style of a Jane Austen story, but don’t get scared.  It’s great, I promise.  It’s also about magic and the people who utilize it.  In the book, magic is referred to as “glamour” and is absolutely mundane. (It’s mundane in the everyday, usual, utilitarian sense.)  Glamour is easy to learn, and young women are expected to learn it as part of their education. 

Glamour is used by housewives and artists, and the main character of Shades of Milk and Honey is adept in its uses.  Unfortunately, she is not quite so adept at courtship, and has resigned herself to the life of a spinster.

Now I’m going to have to ask you to imagine again.  Stay with me; we’re almost to the end.

Imagine reading about boring dinner parties, and visitors coming a-calling, and walks in a boxwood maze, and strawberry picking parties.  Then imagine an element of drama that can only be resolved by using magic.  Imagining?  Add in lots of ladies in dresses and dashing young men.  Still with me?  Add in some magical artwork and entertainment.  Got it? 

Good.  Now go read Shades of Milk and Honey, because that’s what it’s like. 

I may have a wee bit of skill left...

Book Review: Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente

When I was in second grade, my gifted class took a field trip to see "the treasures of the tsars," a traveling exhibit that showcased the extravagance of the pre-soviet Russian nobility. The exhibit included jewels, carriages, exquisite gowns, and a Faberge egg. I remember being incredibly let down by the egg, but loved everything else. Imagine, a second grader infatuated by old, dusty, Russian artifacts.

Fast forward to my sophomore year of college, and my Russian history professor Dr. Elena Osokina. I loved Dr. Osokina. She probably ranks up there as one of my top ten favourite teachers ever, and she is everything I had ever imagined in a Russian pedagogue. Dr. Osokina taught me about the treasures I saw on my second grade field trip, and what kind of upheaval could make that kind of extravagance obsolete. Imagine, a twenty-one year old college student intrigued and in love with old, dusty, Russian history.

When I heard that Catherynne M. Valente was working on a book set in Soviet Russia and featuring the old folk tales of old, dusty Russia, I about died. I love Valente's writing style, and I love her storytelling. In all honesty, I enjoy seeing how Valente strings her sentences together; they tend to be precise and flowing descriptions that paint the story in beautiful pictures. I forget I'm reading, because the story unfolds in front of my eyes.

Deathless combines the Soviet struggle with the old folk tales of Russia. The story Valente paints is beautiful and heart wrenching; a folk tale mixed with a love story. Deathless combined everything I loved learning about Russia with everything I love about Valente's storytelling. The combination is exquisite. Deathless may very well be Valente's best tale yet.

I'm sure that my both my second grade self, and my twenty-one year old self would love Deathless. However, I'm quite certain my second grade self would have been as confused about the love story as she was about the Faberge egg. Thank you, Ms. Valente for the beautiful story; it was as if you wrote it specifically for me.