Chipped Polish & Wornout Jeans

One of my goals for this year is to read one hundred books; Kushiel’s Dart is the first among them. I will be tracking my progress on GoodReads, and I am going to make a conscious effort to broaden my reading horizons. And now, without further ado, here is my first review.

I've read a great many reviews of this book, and many of them were very off-putting. They all said the same things; sex seems thrown in at random, the writing is repetitive, Phedre is a whiner, word choice is very poor. I will admit that Carey abuses the word phallus as if it is the only word she knows for male genitalia, and I also freely admit that Phedre was an initially whiny narrator who can get rather repetitive. The book does start off slow, as Phedre provides an information dump that lays out her parentage and explains the Houses, but once she reaches the age of ten, the story begins to pick up and move at a decent pace. However, none of this deterred my enjoyment of the novel.

I particularly liked that Phedre wasn’t your typical heroine; she isn’t a princess locked in a tower who picks up a blade to defend her home, and she isn’t a girl masquerading as a man in order to fight. From the beginning she is completely honest about who and what she is, and I loved that about her character. She is a woman, through and through; she is a courtesan, in a world full of finery and pretty that hides darkness. Behind the beauty and sensuality of her world and lifestyle lurks treachery and danger, and Phedre uses her wits and her skills to survive.

I thoroughly enjoyed the refreshing change of having a female protagonist whose sexuality and femininity was empowering and important; so often we see female characters tossing aside their femininity to masquerade as men or having their femininity treated as a weakness. Sexuality is rarely portrayed as a good thing, and there is often a great deal of shame thrust upon openly sexual female characters. Such is not the case here. Instead Phedre's sexuality is embraced and is in fact a powerful and important aspect of her character; having a hero who is a sexual masochist was daring, and I applaud Carey for being able to do so without turning Phedre into a slut. I was particularly impressed by the way that she humanized Phedre and showed both the positive and negative sides of her life as anguissette, especially when she was forced to become a bed slave.

The sex scenes were well done and were handled in a tastefully, though those that were graphic in detail are not for the faint of heart, Phedre's experience with Melisande and the flechettes for example; many of the scenes were simply fade to black, implying what took place instead of spelling it out in graphic detail. None of her encounters seemed thrown in for the sake of adding eroticism to the novel, and each served a purpose toward forwarding the story and developing Phedre as a character. Even her relationships with others, especially her companion Joscelin, are shaped by these encounters, and by allowing Phedre to be trained as an extremely keen observer, Carey is able to show us how other characters' views are shaped by Phedre's role as courtesan and spy.

Often with first person narratives, the protagonist is developed at the expense of other characters, but such was not the case here; through Phedre's keen observations we are able to learn a great deal about the individuals she encounters. Her friends and companions, as well as her teachers and enemies, were well developed, and because the reader learned about them as she did, the development felt more natural and less like an unceremonious information dump.

The world building in the novel is exquisite, and Carey creates a world of both beauty and  darkness; it is fairly obvious that she is building using Europe as a base, with her primary location of Terre d’Ange being based in France. A good world build is as important to me as good character development, and Carey does not disappoint. The D’Angelines have a rich culture with a religion based upon angels fallen from grace, all following an angel known as Elua; The central idea behind their religion is “Love as thou wilt” embraces sex as a spiritual act and not just a physical one, and Carey does an excellent job of handling this idea without turning it into a tawdry idea of sex everywhere.

I do wish to address what many have complained is the pedobear seal of approval on this book, in that children are accepted into the Houses at the age of ten, where they are trained to become courtesans. Do I approve of the sexualization of children? No. However, one must remember that this is a fantasy novel, set in a time period that harkens back the medieval period; children matured much faster during that time due to shorter life expectancies. Also, since the primary focus of the tale is Phedre’s journey it is important to remember that she is brought into the Delaunay house at ten, but she does not begin her training to become a courtesan until she is fourteen when she dedicates herself as a servant of Namaah; she does not lose her virginity until she is sixteen.

The novel was rich in detail, and while normally I am turned off by first person narratives, Phedre was an engaging narrator for the most part; she does begin as sort of a whiny brat, but as she matures, so does her voice, making her more relatable. The political intrigue can be very dense and hard to follow, and I found myself wishing I had taken note of which characters were enemies and which characters were allies. Kushiel's Dart is an engaging and lush novel, filled with intriguing characters and sharp plot twists and narrated by a unique and captivating woman who's emotional growth rings true.

Vain and Gratuitous Picture to update you on my appearance (edited in photoshop out of boredom)

But the problem with a blog when you have no life is that you have nothing to write about. Most of the time my life consists of playing in Photoshop, occasionally writing on novels that may never be finished, tons of reading, and cooking (lots and lots of cooking). Just a reminder, I talk about my culinary adventures at A Taste of Joy, and I promise to update that blog more often. In fact, my goal is to blog more from now on, and hopefully I can manage that.

Before I start with the updates on what little has transpired in the life of Nic, let me begin by saying that this blog will hopefully become a lot more interesting. I’m not going to be blogging about major political issues or anything like that, though I may talk about important issues that have been on my mind a lot, but I am going to hopefully talk more about life as I experience it. This includes blogging about the books I read, the movies I see, things I see, and things that happen in my life. Whether or not that will be interesting or worth reading is yet to be determined, but writing used to be a great outlet for me; I intend to let it be that again. So on with the blogging.

As I mentioned earlier, I have been doing a lot of reading, and you can find my Goodreads updates both on my sidebar and by visiting my account. I’m open to book recommendations and friends there. I plan to blog more about my literary adventures, including reviews of sorts of the books I’m reading.

Currently I am halfway through a re-read of George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones so that I can move on to reading A Clash of Kings, and it’s one of those books that is so dense and rich that reading it a second time gives you more to love. Let me take a moment to talk about this book in general, without giving away too much, and then when I’ve finished I will write an actual review.

Martin’s writing style is very heavy, and he tends to be very wordy; however, for me that is not a deterrent so long as the story continues to move forward at a decent pace, which for the most part he does. He has a sort of Joss Whedon wickedness about him, in that you will fall in love with characters only to have them viciously taken from you via death. But his characters are deliciously human, and even the villains are realistic. I absolutely love that there are characters to love, characters you’ll love to hate, and characters you find yourself cheering for despite misgiving. The story rotates through their various points of view, which can be very daunting, and some of his chosen narrators leave a lot to be desired (I’m looking at you Sansa Stark, you little simpering whiner); however, each narrator weaves a brilliant portion of the overall tapestry, bringing their subplots and motivations.

The world is richly developed, and while there are underlying elements of high fantasy (dragons, direwolves, magic, and the mysterious Others), the fantasy aspect is cleverly worked into the overall story without bombarding the reader. It is not a book for the squeamish or those uncomfortable with sex, violence, and death, but I highly recommend it for fantasy lovers who want something thick and detailed to feed a need for heroes and villains.
Other books I’m reading:

• Eona by Allison Goodman
• Brisingr by Christopher Paolini
• Kushiel’s Dart by Jacqueline Carey

The only update I have for now is that I have two mapped out but unfinished barely started novels. One is a futuristic dystopian work called NeverWonder and the other is a historical fantasy work that has yet to be named.

“The way I flew? Do you know, Jane, I sometimes wonder whether I ever did really fly” “Yes, you did.” “The dear old days when I could fly!” “Why can’t you fly now, mother?” “Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget the way.” “Why do they forget the way?” “Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless. It is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly.” ~Peter Pan, pg 222

In case you didn’t catch it the title and opening quotes are in reference to Peter Pan and the location of Neverland. It’s sad but Peter Pan made me realize how jaded and cynical I’ve become. We read it for my children’s lit class, Children’s Fantasy Fiction, back in undergrad, and I bawled at the end when Wendy had forgotten how to fly because she grew up. I’ve grown up too… I don’t remember how to fly anymore. And when Peter said he’d teach her how again, but she told him not to waste his fairy dust on her, I almost died. I won’t ever fly again. I’ve grown up and forgotten and can’t be retaught. I’ll never remember; I’ll have but fond memories of the days when I could. I want to fly away to Neverland and fight pirates with Peter… that sounds good right now. I want to remember how to get there and how to fly. Long ago I used to fight pirates with Peter. I used to go to Neverland and play with the Lost Boys. I want to go back there. “Second to the right, and straight on till morning” That’s where I’ll go.

But the point of this entry is that I know that many people have forgotten how to fly. They’ve stopped believing, and that’s very sad. I clapped loudest when I watched the play; I clapped for Tinker Bell, who I believed in with all my heart. But lately I’ve come to realize that my clapping has grown softer, my innocence has faded away. People all around me have stopped clapping; they’ve stopped believing, and that is a tragedy. They’ve forgotten Neverland and Peter, and Neverland is childhood and hope. Whether you believe it or not, J.M. Barrie was right. We all know Neverland and Peter; we all flew away with him and fought pirates and redskins and played with the Lost Boys, and eventually we all flew home and grew up. “On these magical shores children at play are for ever beaching their coracles. We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.” The main problem is that we will never land on the shores of that dreadful paradise again, where adventure would sweep us away, and we would be free and innocent. Neverland is not a safe place all the time, and our companion Peter Pan is careless and cruel at times, but it is a paradise to be certain.

Maybe it is that we grow up too fast now, achieving adulthood and abandoning Neverland before we should. Forgetting our old adventures as we discover the troubles and difficulties of adult responsibilities, which are much more difficult to battle than the pirates of our youth. Once upon a time we fought pirates and redskins, we defeated Captian Hook and watched as he fell to the crocodile. But we don’t remember that; we don’t remember Tiger Lily or the Neverbird. We’ve forgotten. And I cry for us, for our past. I do not wish to be Peter, who is still a little boy, but I do wish I could remember how to fly, just once, and head back to Neverland for another adventure.

Deep within us, there is a sprinkle of fairy dust and a happy thought, and that will let us fly. In the shadows there is a boy in a garment of green playing the pipes or brandishing a dagger. He’s crying as he tries to stick his shadow back on with soap or perhaps he’s crowing with glee and delight. Some night while you are sitting in your room, you’ll hear a crow and the window will blow open and a boy will drop in on the floor. He will be the same as ever, and he will have all his first teeth. Now he might forget you from time to time, but you mustn’t forget him, for he will come back eventually. He is a careless little boy. Peter doesn’t change, we do. But if you listen closely you can hear him whispering to you.