“See? She’ll be fine. Evander’s charming with animals, he nad half the birds in the neighborhood following him around by the time he was three. C’mon, you need to hit the wine and cheese table. And maybe skip the cheese.” Moira grabbed her arm and steered her around.

So… basically we have a mundane couple whose daughter is attacked (and thus turned) by a werewolf. Suddenly, they’re thrust into the magical world alongside our own, complete with kindergarten, children’s sports, marriage woes, talent shows, and PTAs.

And just while everyone around is magical in someways, it’s at times humorous and at times entirely too on the nose combination of magic and mundane that really sets this off.

“You cast an invisibility spell?” Steve and his wife exchanged the classic “we’re in for it now” look every pair of parents perfects. “I just did what Daddy does when he’s eating Mommy’s chips,” the boy said guilelessly.

Oh I do love the tone of this book.

Vivian and Daniel exchanged a glance. “Uh,” Daniel said when the silence had become a hair too long, “I don’t actually know what skirmedge is.”

“Well, it’s a little like soccer. There’s a ball, although the ball transforms, and depending on if it’s in sphera or avis form, you can either hit it or catch it, until more than half the team crosses the patriam line—” Steve said, enthusiastically.

“It’s wizard soccer,” Madhuri cut him off as she looked up from her phone.

“Oh, like-”

“Nope, don’t say it,” she warned them.

😄

They were heading for the illusionist’s table, where the kids were getting adorned with butterfly wings that opened and closed, and little spaceships that orbited their shoulders, or copyrighted cartoon character heads overlaid on top of their real ones. To think that at last year’s party for Aria, Vivian had bought a face painting kit and had been proud when she’d turned out a half-decent cheek rainbow.

Magical birthday parties yo.

Oh, and as a side note:

Dec 13 3:38 pM Get your PJs ready! The last Friday before Winter Solstice is Cozy Day. Younger students may even bring a stuffed friend with them! (Note: stuffed friends must be inanimate.) Also, last chance to contribute to the Teachers Appreciation Fund! Last year’s blood donations were accepted in the spirit in which they were given, but we respectfully request that contributions be in a currency this year.)

I love the chapter intros.

It’s just an all around fun book, with enough series parts to really set off the humor and enough fun world building without getting bogged down. I do wish I could stay in this world just a bit longer, but for what it is, it was a great book to start the new year off with.

It all started when Dr Brian Robertson, retired GP, enthusiastic amateur ecologist and self-confessed cryptid aficionado, stumbled over a dead sheep a few kilometres west of the town of Mintlaw, Aberdeenshire. Normally, because they are famously geniuses at finding inventive ways of getting themselves killed, a dead sheep does not cause much concern beyond irritation in the farmer and speculation as to whether it can be disposed of off the books to avoid costs.

That is most certainly an opening paradox.

So here we are. Caught up (for now).

With Peter Grant (and family) on vacation in Scotland (but not really). It’s interesting having the change of view–given how much the ‘London’ness of Rivers of London made the series–right up there along with the ‘magical cop’ half of the stories. But I liked it; it’s fun having Peter and co on an adventure and out of their element.

How’re you going to lure it down?’ he asked. ‘Birdseed, chips, a nice fresh herring?’

‘Since we’re looking for a magic bird,’ I said, ‘I’m going to lure it down with magic.’

Blinschell stared at me for a whole minute. As police, you learn to be almost as good a liar as any random grifter or multinational CEO, so it said something that I read every expression as it passed across his face. Suspicion … Is he taking the piss? Are the rumours true? No, I’m fairly certain he’s taking the piss. But what if he isn’t? You hear stories. Yeah, stories, right. Rumours, more like, because that’s reliable …

Well. Sort of out of his element. 😄

We have Abigail all grown up (and with her own point of view chapters, that was surprising; also, with her own romance subplot, which is … odd, mostly in contrast with Peter’s point of view we’ve had up until now) and the twins already old enough to be talking. And of course causing chaos along the way.

Oh, and all manner of sea people and creatures.

Downright cthulian that.

It’s a fun book. And it’s weird to be caught up!

Onward.

Goddammit Donut!

This book has no right to be quite so fun as it is. Billions of people die in the first chapter, it’s full of blood and gore and formerly-living-detritus, and the entire thing feels like a video game—menus, inventory, levels, and loot boxes included.

New achievement! You’ve killed an armed mob with your bare fucking hands! Holy crap, dude. That’s kinda fucked up. Reward: You’ve received a Bronze Weapon Box!

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An oath could be broken, but a promise? A promise stood as long as you were still trying. A promise understood that sometimes your best wasn’t enough. A promise cried with you when all went to Damnation. A promise came to help when you could barely stand. Because a promise knew that sometimes, being there was all you could offer.

And so ends the first half of The Stormlight Archive. I first read The Way of Kings in 2014, around when Words of Radiance came out. Since then, I’ve re-read the series again each time (for Oathbringer and Rhythm of War) and each time there are new details that I’d missed or that didn’t make sense until some future reveal in a later book put things together.

It’s quite the series all told, each book at over a 1000 words. Wind and Truth is over 1300. There is just so much worldbuilding–thousands of years of history–magicbuilding–probably the one thing Sanderson is best known for–and characterbuilding–you get a mental illness and you get a mental illness, and you get a mental illness.

Wind and Truth takes that all up to yet another level.

On the worldbuilding scale, we finally get a chance to visit the Spiritual Realm. I’ll admit, I think it’s perhaps the least interesting realm to me–the Cognitive Realm is so much cooler–but it was a piece I think we needed. And a vehicle to actually make use of flashbacks and fill in a lot of the backstory of how Roshar ended up in the mess it is in now. I think we spent a bit more time here than I would have liked, but I won’t argue it wasn’t interesting.

Magicwise (and characterwise), we get Kaladin and Szeth off to collect all the MacGuffins Honorblades and save Sinovar. A lot of people have commented on Kaladin’s “I’m his therapist” character journey, but I think it actually works. He’s a soldier and a healer–and this is a chance for him to grow into something more. They’re just such a weird pairing to see though. Especially once you add in a talking sword and a law obsessed immortal…

“What are you? … are you his spren? His god?”
“No,” Kaladin said. “I’m his therapist.”
“… What is that?”
“I honestly have no idea,” Kaladin admitted.

Otherwise characterwise, I think that my favorite couple this time around were Shallan and Adolin, despite getting quite a bit less–but also more (heh)–together time than one might hope. Shallan is–quite honestly–a mess, but her learning to deal with that and quite literally come to find herself is a fascinating story and I’m glad to see that moving forward. And seeing her grow into a more confident version of herself.

“Murder?” Pattern said, placing another soldier. He’d built a surprisingly tall pyramid. “Oh, you mean murder! Shallan is good at murder. Yes, mmmmm…”
“Pattern,” she said, “please don’t say it that way.”
“She is good,” Pattern corrected himself, “at making people who were once alive and threatening, unalive and unthreatening. Mmmm. Very good at it.”

And Adolin–to be one of the finest swordsmen in a world where gods and immortals have come to battle–well, he’s just such a fun character. His interactions in particular with Yanagawn was great.

And that’s not all! I won’t go into everything–after all, if you’ve already read 4000 pages of this series, you’re going to read it (or not) regardless of what I have to say–but there is just so much to this story.

And oh… the ending.

She didn’t know what terrified her more. The idea of some powerful, all-knowing deity that controlled everything—destroying her free will, yet for some reason still leaving the entire world in so much pain. Or the knowledge that there were beings who ruled the cosmere with immense power—but they had all the foibles, flaws, and limited morality of anyone else.

That… is going to shake things up methinks.

It’s kind of a bummer to realize that we won’t get another Stormlight Archive until (currently) ~2031. But on the other hand, another era of Mistborn! And hey, if I’m feeling Stormlight deficient, there’s always time for another reread.

“I’m a storyteller,” Wit said, with a flip of his fingers. “I have the right to redefine words.”
“That’s stupid.”
“That’s literature.”
“It’s confusing.”
“The more confusing, the better the literature.”
“That might be the most pretentious thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Aha!” Wit said, pointing. “Now you’re getting it.”

Onward!

And so it … ends?

Originally The Witch with No Name was to be The Hollows grand finale. And it certainly feels like that. Blowing up the past, shaking up the power structure of not only the demons and elves but also the vampires, saving the world, saving magic itself, and changing everything. It’s one heck of a busy book.

Head up, I stomped along, eyeing the few pedestrians. Slowly my good mood was tarnished. Love died in the shadows, and it shouldn’t cost so much to keep it in the sun. But as Trent would say, anything gotten cheap wouldn’t last, so do what you need to do to be happy and deal with the consequences. That if love was easy, everyone would find it.

The vampires are a big part of this book–dealing with what vampire ‘souls’ are, especially for those that have died their first death. The ’living vampires’ in this series have been cool worldbuilding the whole time. In the end, the solution to that is a neat way to tie up a problem I didn’t even know I had. I really do wonder how long Harrison had been planning that!

But of course, don’t leave out the demons.

Al leaned close, voice dangerous as he whispered, “We don’t forget, Rachel, and it’s not as if it was our ancestors who were betrayed. It was us.”

There is so much more about the very beginning of the demons here–and reminders that they’re very nearly extinct–and have been around a long time.

Oh, and Al is a great second example (after Trent) of us, the readers, coming to know and love the villains of the series.

“Rachel is a pus bucket full of miracles,” the demon added, eyes rolling. “Thank you, Bis. I don’t know these new lines yet.”

He… has done some really terrible things over his thousands of years. But he’s cute with the girls and nice to Rachel, so we’re just supposed to forgive that? He really does seem to have changed. This is a hard one.

I remember a few books back when Rachel called on the witches of San Francisco to ring their bells and work together to help her–and nothing. This time around, it’s the demons she’s calling out to. And I think that’s pretty much where this series has gone. Demons may do some terrible things–but in the end, they’re also just people. Super long lived powerful people, but still people. And people of all stripes can be good–or evil.

I love how much crazy stuff happens in this book. I love that it was set up as a finale, given Harrison the permission to do some crazy things that you normally don’t see that often in long running series. And I do appreciate getting a happy ever after epilogue (see later)

Overall, that’s quite the book. It actually gives a good point where you could end. And a lot of people probably thought that was the end. But I have the benefit of having read these a decade later, and there’s more! We’ll just have to see how in the world Harrison handles that.

Onward!

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Many Indigenous people believe that one should never whistle at night. This belief takes many forms: for instance, Native Hawaiians believe it summons the Hukai’po, the spirits of ancient warriors, and Native Mexicans say it calls Lechuza, a witch that can transform into an owl. But what all these legends hold in common is the certainty that whistling at night can cause evil spirits to appear—and even follow you home.

A collection of two dozen horror (and otherwise dark fiction) stories by a wide variety of indigenous authors. Three of which I’d read before:

• Rebecca Roanhorse
• Darcie Little Badger
• Cherie Dimaline

Like any anthology there are some stories in here that I didn’t care much for–and some that really hit hard. Overall, it’s a fascinating new look (for me) into all sorts of new and interesting creepy things.

And all too often, you might just find that people are people. And people are scarier than any monster out there.

So, for these next pages, let these writers take you by the hand, lead you into the darkness at the heart of—let me put some quotation marks around it—“America.”

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