Reviews and Comments

I thought Tress of the Emerald Sea was going to be my favorite of the secret projects, and was not prepared for the ride this book took me on. I’ll be up front in saying that I don’t obsess over the Cosmere, and in fact have read things all out of order from “The Proper” reading order. This book absolutely can stand on its own, no Cosmere background necessary, but there are small details (and probably more than I noticed since I don’t retain small things book to book all that well) if you know where to look.

This book connects two people, Yumi and Painter, from two very different backgrounds. One grows up under strict guidance, her day dictated moment to moment, with no place for frivolous thoughts or actions. Her place in the world is to be the yoki-hijo, the one chosen to speak with spirits and get their cooperation in helping the people of her world. The other also dedicates himself to his people, but his service takes the form of being a Nightmare Painter—one who banishes dark spirits that materialize in his city and feed on the bad dreams of its residents. The more dreams it eats, the stronger it gets. A plea from a spirit brings Yumi and Painter together, where they each experience the other’s life in their body and have to figure out the what and the why of things before it’s too late.

In true Sanderson fashion the “what” and the “why” do a lot of the heavy lifting in this story, and things are kept appropriately mysterious until near the end. I loved the continuing discussion about the value of art, the power of friendship (in a not overbearing way), and how two opposites can come together and make something special together. There’s also quite a bit of irreverent commentary (from our narrator telling the story, someone you’ve met before if you’ve read other Sanderson books), some very touching moments, and a romance that didn’t have me rolling my eyes. That, dear reader, is kind of a rare thing for me.

It (obviously) has strong Japanese roots in the story, which is acknowledged by Sanderson in the afterward (mild influence spoilers) (both Final Fantasy 10 and Hikaru no Go are sampled from here, but twisted enough to be satisfyingly different), so if that feel of story isn’t your thing, you might be disappointed. I, on the other hand, was engaged throughout the whole book (even Tress had small sections that felt a bit drawn out to me), to the point of waking up two hours before work so I could finish it.

Highly enjoyed this one. Super, mega, totally recommend it.

This was a rather neat read about the potential of dreams. What if your dreams had the power to change reality? It sounds good in theory, but in practice it can easily lead to chaos—something the main character, George Orr, uniquely understands. Forced to attend therapy for what people assume to be some sort of mental affliction convincing Orr that his dreams become real, he is thrown in with Dr. Haber, a psychiatrist assigned to Orr to try and help him overcome his problems. In so doing, however, Haber figures out that Orr isn’t crazy, and starts manipulating him and his dreams for his own purposes.

For a short book, this one sure covers a lot of ground. Lots of philosophical thoughts about the rights of man to interfere in destiny, the corrupting influence of power, and general thoughts on the importance of human connection in one’s life are all present in this book. Whether or not you subscribe to the idea of some sort of cosmic balance, it’s telling that (thematic spoilers here) every time Haber tries to make Orr dream something good for humanity, Orr dreams up a monkey’s paw version of the wish.

It's an older book so some parts definitely feel their age, but overall I really enjoyed thinking about the implications of having a power like Orr’s. I was left with some nagging questions in the end (major ending spoilers here) (did Orr create the Aliens or just ship them in from another reality? How did Haber, and to a lesser extent Heather, resist Orr’s reality changes so completely?), but I think it’s left open on purpose to allow you the space to come to your own conclusions.

This was a fun read, and I’ll likely seek out more from this author in the future.

I like sci-fi, I like Antarctic survival books, but these two ideas combined at this author’s hand just never really seemed to gel properly together. I had no clear idea at the end why the beginning was required, which is surprising because evidently this author’s known for his thrillers? I expected something a bit more coherent and thrilling than what I got.

Mysterious aliens arrive in mysterious ships with a mysterious deadline – mankind has 30 days to evacuate to Antarctica. As you might expect, there’s a bit of a scramble to get there, obviously not everyone gets there, but the story follows two people brought together during this adversity who remain together once they get to their destination. Suddenly we’re 20 years later (hand waving how everyone survived that first winter on the ice with basically nothing in terms of supplies in the process), there’s four main colonies in Antarctica, and mysterious happenings going on at one of them (McMurdo City, built around the real life McMurdo Station). The book takes a shift in tone here, and we go back and forth in time perspective to meet new people thrown at us in the story, how they got here, and what their motivations are. The unraveling of the mystery at McMurdo City is the crux of the last half of the book, and what it means for the survivors in Antarctica.

I thought the pacing was a little off, for one. That first 20 year hand wave in the beginning was my biggest annoyance (how did everyone survive? Where did the food come from? How did they build shelters?), but wasn’t my only one. We meet characters periodically throughout the story that the author feels compelled to go back in time to tell their story, which takes you out of the flow of the larger event going on. We’re doing this almost all the way until the end, which is a little frustrating, especially for a character that then isn’t really used much.

I’m also annoyed that the aliens, the driving force for the entire first part of the book and the reason everyone is in Antarctica, were never mentioned again. What did they want? Why have everyone move to Antarctica? What happened to the rest of the planet? All these questions and more, left on the table. They were a plot mechanic to get the actors to their places on stage, and then forgotten about.

Finally, I’m also somewhat annoyed at the ideas brought up in the last half of the book. Spoilers here: Why did we feel compelled to take such drastic genetic manipulation steps for a population that seemed to be doing well? People were living, having children, building communities. Other than, y’know, it being super cold out (which they seemed to have well in hand using what they have anyway), everyone seemed fairly positive about the whole thing. Why not redirect that genetic manipulation energy to, I don’t know, crops or fish or something? Why did we leap immediately to creating, essentially, ice-adapted aliens and then act all shocked when they don’t think much of us?

It’s a very surface level book, so it’s fun only if you don’t start thinking too closely about any one element. The omissions and inconsistencies sucked a large part of the fun out for me, but maybe someone else will think more of it.

”With a sharp pen and fine paper, I have wrought blood and madness.”

This was delightful. Maybe skewing a touch YA in its insistence on creating a love triangle, but I still really enjoyed this book all the same. And if you know me at all, overlooking YA romance tropes and still rating the book highly is something very rare indeed.

Rather than this being a retelling of the One Thousand and One Arabian Nights, it takes the main storyteller from there (Scheherazade) and puts her on her own adventure reluctantly at the right hand of a Seljuk monarch, Shahyar, whom she marries as a way to force his hand. She finds herself weaving tales at the whim of her husband, trying to keep one step ahead of a potential headsman’s block while keeping her own family safe.

This really was a beautiful story told both through the actions of the characters as well as through the short stories told by Scheherazade along the way. The prose was fantastic, and I liked the way the characters change and develop as the story goes along. There’s some real soul searching done by both Scheherazade and Shahyar over the course of the story, and I liked how things wrapped up for both of them.

My only complaint, and the thing keeping it from a 5 star favorite rating, is the YA love triangle the author forces in. Major plot spoilers: About halfway through a character is introduced whom Scheherazade starts having feelings for, which seems rather hypocritical for someone who was instrumental in getting Shahyar’s previous wife killed for the same reason. Sheherazade acknowledges this throughout the book, but only in an offhand “gee I shouldn’t be doing this” as she’s doing this sort of way that I found a little juvenile.

But I really did enjoy this story greatly. It took me a while to get through, but only because I was taking my time with it, a mark of a story and a world I really did want to get all I could out of. Highly recommend for anyone who liked A Thousand and One Arabian Nights, or who wants to see Sheherazade get out of her castle and go on an adventure of her own.

It’s Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales in spaaaaaaaaaaaaaceeeeeeeeee. Seven pilgrims, a one-way destination, and each person’s story told along the way. It’s a fine setup and I loved the execution, but the larger story (why we’re reading the book in the first place) seems to take a back seat amongst everyone’s personal stories.

I say this with every short story compilation I read (because that’s the meat of this book), but it really is a mixed bag here with certain characters’ stories being way more compelling than others. The Poet’s tale was my least favorite (owing mostly to my dislike of his character in general), followed closely by the Consul’s tale, weirdly enough. I initially liked the Consul as a character, but his story basically brought nothing to the table that we didn’t already know, unlike the other stories. It was also the shortest and least memorable in my opinion. But all that said, each story is told in a different way, almost entirely different genres from each other, and I think the author deserves credit for pulling that off successfully. It’s not often I go from a sci-fi pilgrimage to a touching family drama dealing with terminal illness to a cyberpunk murder mystery all in the same book.

This was cruising along for a 5 star rating, until we get to the Epilogue. Ending spoilers here: The boogeyman of the book, the Shrike, deserved way more pages than it got. I was super into whatever the Shrike was and was looking forward to its mystery being unraveled slowly with each story told, but I didn’t get that. I was also looking forward to some sort of confrontation with it at the end of the book, but I didn’t get that either. I get that this is a series and a lot of this is probably addressed in book 2, but I’m in the camp that says a book should be able to stand on its own merits without being propped up by a sequel, and I didn’t get that feeling here.

All that said I thought this was a really well done book. Lots of food for thought here, and I loved the prose. The different feels of each pilgrim’s story also contributed to a general feeling of different backgrounds coming together for a (reluctant) goal. I’ll definitely be picking up book 2 at some point!

”Bean paste is all about feeling, young man.”

A weirdly calming read about an ex-convict’s dorayaki shop and the mysterious elderly Tokue he hires for basically peanuts. I say weirdly calming, because this book went places that I wasn’t expecting from the summary. I had some serious mood whiplash moments while reading this short, sweet, ultimately sad little novel.

Ex-convict Sentaro runs a dorayaki shop to pay off a debt. He’s making a rough go of it initially, because while he makes the pancakes from scratch, he buys pre-made sweet bean paste (name drop!) rather than make it from scratch. As a result his sweets are middling at best, and he doesn’t get much foot traffic as a result. Tokue, elderly woman with strangely twisted, ugly hands, starts hanging around his shop trying to get Sentaro to hire her. At first he refuses, but it’s only when she names some minuscule sum of money as her wage in exchange for making her sweet bean paste from scratch for him that he reluctantly hires her on. What follows is the two of them turning the shop around–until we start learning more about Tokue and her past.

I went into this blind, so when Tokue’s big reveal came, I was sort of floored. Leprosy was definitely not on my list of potential baggage. I was thinking more like dementia or homelessness or something. Regardless, this ended up being a pretty touching read for something so mood whiplash-y. I do sort of wish we find out how Sentaro ends up; I was rooting for him to open his own shop modeled after Tokue’s sweet bean paste, but the book ends before we get that far.

Still, a good, quick read. I sort of wish I had my own dorayaki to eat while reading this.