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lady_schrapnellNot a threat, though it possibly should be a bit worrying that I find "Knife" a much more appealing title than "Faery Rebels"... (I like the British cover more than the US one too, though it might be a bit misleadingly young.)
Anyway, the author,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rj_anderson, is on my flist, and despite the reassurance of "there are humans at the bottom of the garden", and the enormous intelligence of what I've read of her non-fiction, when I picked up the book in town early, I said nothing, put aside the book I was reading (the wonderful Graceling), and set out to see what I might see. Because, well, it's fairies. And fairies - or faeries, even - can be very difficult to get just the way you like them. Cute has been done so much that the anti-cute, as in the "kick-ass" variety, is also pretty standard these days. And the heartless-as-hell YA types are usually seen from the perspective of the teen who has to try to escape them, while this is clearly from the POV of the faery. So it could have been competent and well-written but nothing to write home about. Or think about. Or eagerly anticipate the sequel. Oh - let's go for full disclosure here: or to say to oneself "That's a bit dim of Knife and friends, but I guess she doesn't have the experience of reading Fire and Hemlock, or she'd know to avoid that peril", only to find oneself totally and utterly wrong instead, because *nothing* was standard or predictable.
I found it a bit of a slow burner - not that it was boring to start off with, or anything less than well-written and original. I really enjoyed the set-up, with the idea of the Sundering - in which the faeries now confined to one Oak tree, lost their magic - and the isolation and sheer claustrophobia that resulted, very well-done. I liked also the thoroughness with which the different perspective on the world (or what was told of it, and seen through windows) and especially humans, was presented. It did seem for a bit younger reader than I came to think it later, and seemed a simpler story.
But once Bryony ventured into the House, and stole the knife from which she chose her name, things really moved to another level. Her view of the family living there developed gradually from terrified and contemptuous to a dawning appreciation of the things that humans might have, and finally when she and Paul grew to be friends it was shown so well. At the same time it started to become obvious that her relative lack of concern, even for those in the Oakenwyld closest to her (her foster-mother Wink, for example) wasn't solely a 'faery thing', although there were ways and patterns of thinking the faeries had that were quite alien. The slow and relentless drain of creativity and ability to survive and also to have any kind of life worth living, and Knife's courage and determination to find a way to help the others in the Oakenwyld, all added up to a fascinating and engaging story.
When I was doing a quick review of Auralia's Colors over on Goodreads, it suddenly occurred to me that both it and Knife dealt with a retreat behind walls, into supposed safety, but also into isolation and rigid restrictions and rules. I have NO idea where the other 'strands' in Auralia's Thread may lead that story, so anything I say about it *might* be negated by a subsequent book, but it's easier to take Knife as an entity in itself. I was really struck how both books - though very different in many ways - talk about the stifling of creativity that comes with the kind of isolation that follows threat or loss. (And there's a question in both books of whether the threat or loss is only a pretence manipulated out of a desire for power, and I'm not going to do any spoiling about Knife, but I think it's fair to say that there is genuine loss somewhere in both books.)
The other observation that linked the two - heightened by a discussion withsteepholm about fantasy writers and who is or isn't as subversive as they say they are - was that both authors acknowledged God in very similar phrasing - as a creative force, as well as a creator; Jeffrey Overstreet used the "Grand Artist", while R.J. Anderson acknowledged "the One who is both Author and Word". Quite aside from the massive sigh of relief at fantasy being written by openly religious authors which isn't embarrassingly "magic is evil" or subtly "be obedient and submissive" in message, I really appreciated the connection made between a "proper order" of things and sheer joy in living creatively - even in seeing colours and art and poetry, if you're not the make-it-yourself type. Which strikes me as fundamentally different from the conservative fantasy with its "proper order" where everyone knows their place and it's under the benign command of those who know better, so the rest of us can just live docile and content.
One line in Knife really hit me on this regard, though I'll omit a bit and a name so there's no spoiler. (It wouldn't ruin all of the the many pleasures in reading this, but there are so many twists and turns in the story that I'd hate to mess that up for anyone.)
"Ever since the Sundering cut us off from the human world, our people have grown more shallow in their affections, more petty and self-serving. Though I have done what I could to encourage kindness [...], I knew all along that such efforts were in vain. The evil [--] did has poisoned the Oak to its very root."
"No," said Knife. "You're wrong. Do you really think that just because we can't go back to the way we used to be, that proves we can never be any better than we are?"
The revelations of about the last quarter were all interesting, surprising and yet never felt like twists just for the sake of being clever. And the human Paul was very engaging too. Not to mention - romantic hero in a wheelchair - yay! I was reminded at the end of one of my favourite fairy-tales, E. Nesbit's "The Prince, Two Mice, and Some Kitchen-Maids", which has somewhat the same blend of real emotional pathos and nicely acerbic humour.
No spoilers behind the cut, and I'll keep it that way for this post, but I may crack and need to do a whited-out mini-post with the thoughts I've been turning over and over concerning just one line near the end! It's impossible to say anything about it and remain spoilerless. Or maybe I'll go searching for other reviews which do have spoilers on Goodreads, possibly. I just can't see waiting however long it'll take for the sequel to come out....
Anyway, the author,
rj_anderson, is on my flist, and despite the reassurance of "there are humans at the bottom of the garden", and the enormous intelligence of what I've read of her non-fiction, when I picked up the book in town early, I said nothing, put aside the book I was reading (the wonderful Graceling), and set out to see what I might see. Because, well, it's fairies. And fairies - or faeries, even - can be very difficult to get just the way you like them. Cute has been done so much that the anti-cute, as in the "kick-ass" variety, is also pretty standard these days. And the heartless-as-hell YA types are usually seen from the perspective of the teen who has to try to escape them, while this is clearly from the POV of the faery. So it could have been competent and well-written but nothing to write home about. Or think about. Or eagerly anticipate the sequel. Oh - let's go for full disclosure here: or to say to oneself "That's a bit dim of Knife and friends, but I guess she doesn't have the experience of reading Fire and Hemlock, or she'd know to avoid that peril", only to find oneself totally and utterly wrong instead, because *nothing* was standard or predictable.I found it a bit of a slow burner - not that it was boring to start off with, or anything less than well-written and original. I really enjoyed the set-up, with the idea of the Sundering - in which the faeries now confined to one Oak tree, lost their magic - and the isolation and sheer claustrophobia that resulted, very well-done. I liked also the thoroughness with which the different perspective on the world (or what was told of it, and seen through windows) and especially humans, was presented. It did seem for a bit younger reader than I came to think it later, and seemed a simpler story.
But once Bryony ventured into the House, and stole the knife from which she chose her name, things really moved to another level. Her view of the family living there developed gradually from terrified and contemptuous to a dawning appreciation of the things that humans might have, and finally when she and Paul grew to be friends it was shown so well. At the same time it started to become obvious that her relative lack of concern, even for those in the Oakenwyld closest to her (her foster-mother Wink, for example) wasn't solely a 'faery thing', although there were ways and patterns of thinking the faeries had that were quite alien. The slow and relentless drain of creativity and ability to survive and also to have any kind of life worth living, and Knife's courage and determination to find a way to help the others in the Oakenwyld, all added up to a fascinating and engaging story.
When I was doing a quick review of Auralia's Colors over on Goodreads, it suddenly occurred to me that both it and Knife dealt with a retreat behind walls, into supposed safety, but also into isolation and rigid restrictions and rules. I have NO idea where the other 'strands' in Auralia's Thread may lead that story, so anything I say about it *might* be negated by a subsequent book, but it's easier to take Knife as an entity in itself. I was really struck how both books - though very different in many ways - talk about the stifling of creativity that comes with the kind of isolation that follows threat or loss. (And there's a question in both books of whether the threat or loss is only a pretence manipulated out of a desire for power, and I'm not going to do any spoiling about Knife, but I think it's fair to say that there is genuine loss somewhere in both books.)
The other observation that linked the two - heightened by a discussion with
steepholm about fantasy writers and who is or isn't as subversive as they say they are - was that both authors acknowledged God in very similar phrasing - as a creative force, as well as a creator; Jeffrey Overstreet used the "Grand Artist", while R.J. Anderson acknowledged "the One who is both Author and Word". Quite aside from the massive sigh of relief at fantasy being written by openly religious authors which isn't embarrassingly "magic is evil" or subtly "be obedient and submissive" in message, I really appreciated the connection made between a "proper order" of things and sheer joy in living creatively - even in seeing colours and art and poetry, if you're not the make-it-yourself type. Which strikes me as fundamentally different from the conservative fantasy with its "proper order" where everyone knows their place and it's under the benign command of those who know better, so the rest of us can just live docile and content. One line in Knife really hit me on this regard, though I'll omit a bit and a name so there's no spoiler. (It wouldn't ruin all of the the many pleasures in reading this, but there are so many twists and turns in the story that I'd hate to mess that up for anyone.)
"Ever since the Sundering cut us off from the human world, our people have grown more shallow in their affections, more petty and self-serving. Though I have done what I could to encourage kindness [...], I knew all along that such efforts were in vain. The evil [--] did has poisoned the Oak to its very root."
"No," said Knife. "You're wrong. Do you really think that just because we can't go back to the way we used to be, that proves we can never be any better than we are?"
The revelations of about the last quarter were all interesting, surprising and yet never felt like twists just for the sake of being clever. And the human Paul was very engaging too. Not to mention - romantic hero in a wheelchair - yay! I was reminded at the end of one of my favourite fairy-tales, E. Nesbit's "The Prince, Two Mice, and Some Kitchen-Maids", which has somewhat the same blend of real emotional pathos and nicely acerbic humour.
No spoilers behind the cut, and I'll keep it that way for this post, but I may crack and need to do a whited-out mini-post with the thoughts I've been turning over and over concerning just one line near the end! It's impossible to say anything about it and remain spoilerless. Or maybe I'll go searching for other reviews which do have spoilers on Goodreads, possibly. I just can't see waiting however long it'll take for the sequel to come out....
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Date: 2009-01-09 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2009-01-10 08:59 am (UTC)I agree with your points about the target age: the book art suggests younger than the relation that Knife develops with Paul in the second half of the book. And I found the God/religious analogies of the book the most abiding aspect.
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Date: 2009-01-10 06:06 pm (UTC)Knife is on my to-buy-next list so glad to hear good things about it!
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Date: 2009-01-13 02:07 pm (UTC)At least you should be able to pick up Knife no problem!