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If Mexican Gothic left you craving more South American fantasy horror, Our Share of Night by Mariana Enriquez of Argentina (translated from Spanish by Megan McDowell) has you covered. This is a family epic intertwined with the dark machinations of a macabre cult and its impact. It's also a splendid allegory for the evils of colonialism and generational trauma. This book was #15 from the "Women in Translation" rec list.
The book begins with Juan, a powerful but ill man who acts as a "medium" for the cult to commune with its dark god. Juan, struggling with the health of his defective heart, the wear-and-tear of years as the medium, and the grief and rage of his wife's recent death (he suspects, at the orders of the cult he serves) is desperate to keep his son Gaspar from stepping into his shoes, as the cult wants. Juan's opening segment of the book is about his efforts to protect Gaspar.
From there, the book branches off into other perspectives which give background to both the cult and the family. This is a great way of giving us a holistic and generational view of the cult, but it does drag occasionally. Gaspar's sections--in his childhood and then later in his teens/young adulthood--together make up the majority of the book, and while enjoyable, do amble off into great detail about his and his friends' day-to-day lives, such that I did wonder sometimes when we were getting back to the plot. I don't like to cite pacing issues, because I think that gets thrown around a lot whenever someone didn't vibe with a book, but the drawn-out length of these quotidian sections doesn't fit well with how quickly the climax of the book passes and is wrapped up. I would have liked to have spent less time with Gaspar at soccer games and more on his plans for addressing the cult.
However, on the whole, the book is a fun, if very dark read. It also serves well as a critique of Argentina's moneyed class and of colonialism in general, and how money sticks with money even across borders. Here, Argentina's wealthy have more in common with English money than with the Argentine lower classes (and that's how they want it). The cult, populated at its upper echelons by the privileged, is an almost literal blight on the land, willing to sacrifice an endless amount of blood, local and otherwise, to beg power off a hungry and unknown supernatural entity.
It brutalizes its mediums, which it often plucks from poverty to wring for power and then discard. Juan was adopted away from his own poor family at six, under the insistence his parents would not be able to pay for the medical care he needed, and he is the least-abused of the cult's line of mediums. As soon as the cult sets their eye on his son, Juan must begin scheming how to keep Gaspar away from them.
Although he acts out of love of his son, Juan is also a deeply flawed person. He is secretive, moody, lies constantly (there is actual gaslighting here) and doesn't hesitate to knock Gaspar around to make him obey. The more he deteriorates--a common problem with all cult mediums--the less human he becomes. Part of this is his work, but much of it is also attributable to years of being used by the cult for its ends and the accumulated emotional trauma. This, of course, is then inflicted on Gaspar through his father's tempers and secrets.
Similarly flawed are the other members of the immediate family. Juan's wife Rosario, despite a better nature than her parents, still supports this cult and is eager for Gaspar to follow in his father's footsteps as a cult medium, in part for the prestige it will bring her as his mother. Gaspar, although far more empathetic and gentle than either of his parents, eventually grows up with his father's temper. Watching him grow from a sweet-natured little boy into the troubled young adult he becomes after years of his father's abuse and neglect is painful, but realistic.
The book is also unexpectedly queer. It's not often a book surprises me with its queerness, because that's usually what landed it on my radar in the first place, but this one did. Juan and Rosario are both bisexual and later in the book we spend some active time in Argentina's queer scene, including during the AIDS crisis in the 1980s.
The translation was great! It read very naturally, even the dialogue, and it never felt stilted or awkward in its phrasing.
An ambitious novel that for the most part, pulls off what it's trying to do. As mentioned, I wish the ending had gotten more room to breathe, and I would not have minded this coming at the cost of some of the middle bits of navel-gazing, but I still felt the story was satisfying.
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The book begins with Juan, a powerful but ill man who acts as a "medium" for the cult to commune with its dark god. Juan, struggling with the health of his defective heart, the wear-and-tear of years as the medium, and the grief and rage of his wife's recent death (he suspects, at the orders of the cult he serves) is desperate to keep his son Gaspar from stepping into his shoes, as the cult wants. Juan's opening segment of the book is about his efforts to protect Gaspar.
From there, the book branches off into other perspectives which give background to both the cult and the family. This is a great way of giving us a holistic and generational view of the cult, but it does drag occasionally. Gaspar's sections--in his childhood and then later in his teens/young adulthood--together make up the majority of the book, and while enjoyable, do amble off into great detail about his and his friends' day-to-day lives, such that I did wonder sometimes when we were getting back to the plot. I don't like to cite pacing issues, because I think that gets thrown around a lot whenever someone didn't vibe with a book, but the drawn-out length of these quotidian sections doesn't fit well with how quickly the climax of the book passes and is wrapped up. I would have liked to have spent less time with Gaspar at soccer games and more on his plans for addressing the cult.
However, on the whole, the book is a fun, if very dark read. It also serves well as a critique of Argentina's moneyed class and of colonialism in general, and how money sticks with money even across borders. Here, Argentina's wealthy have more in common with English money than with the Argentine lower classes (and that's how they want it). The cult, populated at its upper echelons by the privileged, is an almost literal blight on the land, willing to sacrifice an endless amount of blood, local and otherwise, to beg power off a hungry and unknown supernatural entity.
It brutalizes its mediums, which it often plucks from poverty to wring for power and then discard. Juan was adopted away from his own poor family at six, under the insistence his parents would not be able to pay for the medical care he needed, and he is the least-abused of the cult's line of mediums. As soon as the cult sets their eye on his son, Juan must begin scheming how to keep Gaspar away from them.
Although he acts out of love of his son, Juan is also a deeply flawed person. He is secretive, moody, lies constantly (there is actual gaslighting here) and doesn't hesitate to knock Gaspar around to make him obey. The more he deteriorates--a common problem with all cult mediums--the less human he becomes. Part of this is his work, but much of it is also attributable to years of being used by the cult for its ends and the accumulated emotional trauma. This, of course, is then inflicted on Gaspar through his father's tempers and secrets.
Similarly flawed are the other members of the immediate family. Juan's wife Rosario, despite a better nature than her parents, still supports this cult and is eager for Gaspar to follow in his father's footsteps as a cult medium, in part for the prestige it will bring her as his mother. Gaspar, although far more empathetic and gentle than either of his parents, eventually grows up with his father's temper. Watching him grow from a sweet-natured little boy into the troubled young adult he becomes after years of his father's abuse and neglect is painful, but realistic.
The book is also unexpectedly queer. It's not often a book surprises me with its queerness, because that's usually what landed it on my radar in the first place, but this one did. Juan and Rosario are both bisexual and later in the book we spend some active time in Argentina's queer scene, including during the AIDS crisis in the 1980s.
The translation was great! It read very naturally, even the dialogue, and it never felt stilted or awkward in its phrasing.
An ambitious novel that for the most part, pulls off what it's trying to do. As mentioned, I wish the ending had gotten more room to breathe, and I would not have minded this coming at the cost of some of the middle bits of navel-gazing, but I still felt the story was satisfying.
This was my second read-through of Tevinter Nights, the short story collection released for Dragon Age; the first came in 2020 not long after it was published. I wasn't super impressed with it at the time, but I was eager for any updates on the Dragon Age franchise, so I ate it up anyway. Having played through the latest game release, Veilguard (review here), it seemed like a good time to revisit Tevinter Nights, conceived undoubtedly as a way to keep fans interested and engaged with the coming story when, six years after the release of the last game, Inquisition, there was still not a crumb of news about the next game. I stand by my original assessment.
First, let me say this: if you are not already a fan of Dragon Age, this book is unlikely to have anything remotely interesting for you. It is steeped in its own lore, which it assumes the reader's familiarity with, and the quality of the works are simply not worthwhile if you are not already invested in this world.
Tevinter Nights is emblematic of so much of Dragon Age's writing. That is to say, it's deeply uneven in quality, with parts that are genuinely exciting and emotional, that give you exactly what you're looking for on your hunt for fantasy adventure; and parts that leave you scratching your head about how this cleared quality control (and whether the people writing it are familiar with the worldbuilding of their own franchise).
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Recipes from the World of H. P. Lovecraft: Inspired by Cosmic Horror
Hardcover – July 25, 2023
by Olivia Luna Eldritch
This cookbook draws inspiration from H.P. Lovecraft and the Cthulhu Mythos. In addition to photographs of delicious food, it also features a lot of eldritch horror illustrations, some black-and-white, some full color. There's also a good deal of information about Lovecraft, his writing, his eating and hosting preferences. So there's an interesting mix of actually eldritch-themed recipes and others that are inspired by things he liked or his home territory. The chapters are Breaking Fast, Lighter Bites, Strange Feastings, Toothsome Sweets, Potions & Concoctions.
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Hardcover – July 25, 2023
by Olivia Luna Eldritch
This cookbook draws inspiration from H.P. Lovecraft and the Cthulhu Mythos. In addition to photographs of delicious food, it also features a lot of eldritch horror illustrations, some black-and-white, some full color. There's also a good deal of information about Lovecraft, his writing, his eating and hosting preferences. So there's an interesting mix of actually eldritch-themed recipes and others that are inspired by things he liked or his home territory. The chapters are Breaking Fast, Lighter Bites, Strange Feastings, Toothsome Sweets, Potions & Concoctions.
( Read more... )
- Mood:
accomplished
The Dragon Queen by Rod Espinosa
The Courageous Princess book 3. Spoilers ahead for the first two.
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The Courageous Princess book 3. Spoilers ahead for the first two.
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The Unremembered Lands by Rod Espinosa
The Courageous Princess book 2. Spoilers ahead for the earlier volume
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The Courageous Princess book 2. Spoilers ahead for the earlier volume
( Read more... )