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I won this in a contest — along with some other goodies that I completely forgot about, because all I really cared about was this book.

I'm a fan of Howson's writing, as she subscribes to the lyrical school of style. The worldbuilding in this one caught at me as well. Forget the wolves and cats who abound in paranormals. This is a fantasy romance where you have a gargoyle-shifter and a woman who can change into lava.

The story begins with Aera (the latter) making her way into the labyrinth where she kills criminals in the name of the god — a holy executioner, if you will. And if you doubt that she'd do this, consider that her family had sunk into the lowest of castes because they hadn't produced anyone with a fire-gift for a century. When Aera discovered her gift by burning down their house, this was the reaction:

Her walk also takes her down the path of memory, and she thinks of Coram, the boy who had accepted her in the days of her family's disgrace, and whom she never saw again after she was taken away to the temple for training. And at the end of the walk, of course, is Coram, now a man. He meets her demand to rise and face his death because she's come in the name of the god with, "To kill me. Yes, of course. Then I think I'll not stand, if it's all the same to you."

Howson describes past events with a deft hand, and I never questioned Aera's affection for Coram, or the hardship her family suffered. And I liked Aera. She's not the wishy-washy sort, but someone who honestly examines her beliefs. She also doesn't wait around, languishing for rescue when she's in trouble, but works to get herself out.

My only disappointment was the scope. There aren't any secondary characters, and the bad guys were fanatical and jealous of their power to the point of being generically evil. There were some beautiful details, like stone pillars where priestesses leave the imprint of their hands, but the world outside the labyrinth was left hazy, despite teasing mentions of maenads who hunt runaways in the desert and rumors of northern lands where all gifts are accepted. There was so much more that could have been done with this setting! Instead, everything centers around the lovers: their anger and despair and tenderness. Which, you might argue, is the way it's supposed to be in a shorter romance.

It's a warming tale rather than a passionate one, but that's what I like about it — it takes the time to go through the characters' emotions beyond some blazing, relentless love/lust/angst, and leaves you quietly content.

So I went and read a humorous holiday-themed sf m/m short story, Angela Benedetti's "The Joy of Exchanging Gifts." This is not an intersection of categories that I normally look for, and yet I thoroughly enjoyed it. It involved anthropology and sex in quite possibly the most awkward position I can imagine, and somehow that was a winning combination for me. It was rather like the time I read my first mystery novel after years of reading only fantasy, sf, and English class assignments: I got all excited not just by the story itself, but by the door opening, the realization that there's this entire world out there that I never looked at before, and now I get to go romp in it.

I think I need to stop hitting the fantasy category first thing at various publishers' sites, and be more open-minded. Even if a certain genre makes me feel wearier than that guy who went trooping 500 miles and then 500 more, there's always the chance that some wonderful author has gone and made it fresh again. After all, genres are only single-dimensional labels that can't capture some of the aspects that appeal most to me about a book — a type of character, a plot button, or, most importantly, the quality of writing.

Ever since I've been trying to get the hang of this romance stuff, I think I've been studying it more closely in all the books I read, even the non-romances. Mercedes Lackey's Heralds of Valdemar trilogy, usually a comfort read, annoyed me because there's a lifebond that conveniently keeps a couple from having to actually learn about and court each other. (Although of course they still suffer plenty of angst, somewhow.) Then Shannon Hale's River Secrets carried on with a romance from the previous book that had seemed resolved, even though those characters were now secondary, and I wondered if this was breaking romance rules — but of course it wasn't a romance.

And Isobelle Carmody's Obernewtyn, while it drew me in with the main character's voice and the postapocalyptic worldbuilding, had a decent guy who started out a bit antagonistic. Ah ha, I thought right off. He's going to be her love interest.

I'm now engaged in a mad search for the rest of the books in the Obernewtyn Chronicles — not to find out if I'm right, but because it's good stuff. But I'll probably raise my arms Steve Holt-style and shout, "I knew it!" if I am right, even if I'm in public. Perhaps this should be strictly indoors reading.

There are times I think I'm doomed as a romance writer, because the love stories that hit me the hardest tend to be ones that don't end happily. I just reread "Sorrel's Heart" by Susan Palwick, and I doubt many people would classify it as romance. But it was as a love story that it struck me.

In a world where people are divided into normals and freaks with twisted bodies, two freaks meet: Sorrel, a girl with a heart that's attached on the outside of her body, and Quartz, a man who enjoys inflicting pain. Sorrel's condition is literal and figurative; she feels emotions more intensely, because her heart is so exposed.

They begin as practical companions and end up as lovers. There's no elegant courtship, but I never doubted the intensity of their bond. And the story is about how Sorrel's presence in Quartz's life changes him — one of the ultimate ambitions of women in relationships, it seems.

Not an appropriate read for a morose day, but striking and beautiful, despite — because of — the twisted characters.

I find myself annoyed by short chapters. This may stem from my childhood, when my mother would find me reading past my bedtime and I would beg for an extension "just till the chapter ends" and then the chapter would end on the next page.

But it's incredibly disruptive to me when the last sentence of a chapter immediately hooks up to the first sentence of the next chapter, repeatedly. I understand the use of chapter breaks for occasional suspenseful pauses, but in the current book I'm reading, I've grown tired of dialogue being cut into parts by a chapter break.

L.E. Modesitt had astoundingly short chapters in some of his Recluse books — less than a page, at times — but I remember him using them as scenes more than chapters. There would be a change of perspective or setting whenever the next roman numeral popped up.

I would go re-read The Towers of the Sunset (Creslin was on what I labeled my "D" list, for "delectable"), except I think it's undergoing anti-silverfish treatment, between the peas and carrots and the cinnamon bread. A pity — how many stories do you know where the hero skis away from his arranged marriage?

I'm lucky to have access to the Northern California Digital Library, but I wish I knew who their selector was, or how to suggest titles. It's easy for me to overspend on ebooks (since I don't actually have to get my wallet out), and it would be lovely to be able to check out books I'm curious about but don't want to actually commit to buying. Most of these that I want are from small presses; the popular books available from the digital library are ones I could go get bound copies of (although being able to download audio books is nice).

With cunning timing — Wave 1 of my books is currently in the freezer to get rid of a silverfish infestation — one of my friends who works for Google Books suggested I just scan all my books and stop whining about lack of bookshelf space. Lots of opportunities for digital editions here!

To be honest, I was despairing a little about my self-education program in popular romance authors' works. Some were forgettable, literally; I'd actually read one before, but honestly didn't realize it until halfway through. Some were outright dreadful and unfinishable. Then I came across the acclaimed Spymaster's Lady by Joanna Bourne. Someone had recommended it with the warning, "Don't pay attention to the cover" — the hero is unselfconsciously holding his shirt open to expose his chest, which actually doesn't do much for me. (Now shoulders, on the other hand...)

I think what really won me over is encapsulated in this bit:

Grey lifted her half out of his chair to kiss her, passionately and possessively, hard upon her mouth. It surprised her, but she was more immediately concerned with receiving and hiding the knife he passed to her. As a declaration of affection, the knife did as well as any number of kisses.

Annique is a believable spy because she does consider such practical matters. Yes, she does her fair share of melting in the hero's arms, but she also spends a lot of time trying to escape him, whether by battering his head in with a candlestick or using a makeshift garotte. And I could see how her competence would make her attractive to Grey as much as her beauty.

Okay, and she says some really hot things in the beginning that would get guys even more disciplined than Grey.

Really, this is fully indulgent of romantic tropes while being intelligently written. I have connived to get my grubby hands on her next book, and am quite looking forward to it.

Science fiction, 6500 words - http://www.infinityplus.co.uk/stories/moon.htm

This is a love story rather than a romance. I was charmed by the first conversation that the two lovers share upon meeting:

There isn't an overwhelming sense of the characters, so this is perhaps not the best read for someone who has to feel the passion of the narrator. Henry is a poet and Nell and architect, and the story is accordingly structured, elegant, and emotive with sparing words. It rests mostly on concepts, though:

What if your soul dwells in plants and living things outdoors? What if the woman you love is the leading architect of her generation, and her calling takes her away from you? What would you write, and what would she build?

I tend to veer away from books that receive raving hype. (Confession #1: I don't think much of Harry Potter, Twilight, or Robert Jordan.) The problem I have is that these books are usually handed over with the glowing endorsement of, "I loved it! Everyone else loves it!"

What about that says that I'll love it?

Confession #2: I like bad action/sf movies — you know, the kind that's so bad it becomes hilarious. Don't ask how many times I watched AVP in the theater, or The Chronicles of Riddick on DVD. So sometimes I'll read a scathing film critic's review and, once I'm done laughing (unfortunately, the negative reviews are the funniest and most fun to read), go look up showtimes. Because the very things they heaped scorn upon — a plethora of explosions, a heated romance snatched between fight scenes, sarcastic sidekicks — are characteristics of a movie I'll enjoy watching. For a while I tried to find a critic whose opinion I would be able to reliably count myself on the opposite end from.

The point is that I've trained my friends to recommend things to me not because they've enjoyed them, but because they've triangulated my tastes and decided, in a deliberate manner, that I would like them too. I'm not looking for an objective review, but one with reasoning behind it: "I think you'd like this because..."

When Kristin Nelson recommended Eloisa James's Desperate Duchesses, I paid less attention to her tone and more to the specific points that she thought separated it from other romance novels. And I read it, and loved it.

I've decided to mention some books (and shorter works, too) from time to time on this here blog, but I'll try to focus on what in particular appealed to me, rather than performing a survey of the plot, setting, and characters. These aren't better reviews, or even necessarily reviews, just highlights of certain aspects that might lead one to appreciate the entire story.

This is, of course, once I wend my way through my current stack of nonfiction...