Sally Bend's Blog, page 27

Book Review: A Chorus of Dragons by Jenn Lyons (fantasy)

Title: A Chorus of Dragons
Author: Jenn Lyons
Publication Date: 2019-2022
Genres: Fantasy
Protagonist Gender: Various

I published individual reviews of each of these books as they were released, but for this year’s #TransRightsReadathon I wanted to explore the diversity within them that’s worthy of celebration

A Chorus of Dragons is a story where hardly anybody is who or what they seem – even without considering the mimic who could be anyone – where the affairs of gods and mortals are inexorably intertwined, and where you need a scorecard to keep track of names, roles, and relationships. It forces you to reconsider everything you thought you knew or understood, but there are fantastic revelations to be found as each puzzle piece falls into place.

There are so many familiar tropes to be found in the series – lost heirs, assassins, secret sorcerers, dragons, gods, sea monsters, fathers and father figures – but none quite where or how you might expect. I was . . . well, delighted is the best word I can think of . . . by how Jenn Lyons spun her tale. It’s an exceptionally dark story in places, with rape, murder, and torture at the heart of so much than happens, and yet there is wonder, amazement, and humor to be found along the way. It’s a complex saga, full of complicated characters and convoluted relationships, and one that demands a lot more attention than your average epic fantasy, but it’s well worth it.

There are multiple themes explored across the 5 books, and you could argue they are as much about power, corruption, immortality, belief, or humanity as it is about anything, but what the saga is ultimately about is love – love for family born, family created, and family found. From the worst case of sibling rivalry you can imagine to the most wonderful case of shared love and romance you can dream, this is a story about love. Not always with a happily ever after, mind you – despite the characters having narrative threads, pulling from a myriad of lives, there are real stakes that see some remain dead after the final page is turned.

One of the aspects I loved most about this series was the Joratese culture and its exciting exploration of gender. This is a culture driven by horse-based gender roles of stallion, mare, gelding, and foal that have nothing to do with biology. It’s may be confusing to the reader at first, and it perplexes people from other cultures, but I found it fascinating. On top of that, there’s simple reincarnation into different genders; races such as the voramer and morgage, who are born male but become female later in life; the magically gifted vane, who can alter their gender and appearance over time; and the treacherous mimics who can become anyone at will. There’s a whole question of romance, inheritance, and bloodlines that hinges upon gender, not because same-sex marriage is an issue, but because childbearing is far more problematic.

As for the characters and their relationships, how Lyons not only validates the emotional triangle between Kihrin, Janel, and Teraeth, but explores the complex romance dynamic of a bisexual polyamorous triad – one with reincarnation issues and a question of gender fluidity – is perhaps the most satisfying aspect of the novel. There is also the homoerotic tension/flirting between Galen and Qown; the sapphic love between Talea and Xivan with a story worthy of their history together; Sheloran being free to talk about her love for other women without being slut-shamed for it; Senera and Thurvishar being given space to explore their asexual dynamic as friends and colleagues with feelings; and so many other casual references to changing gender, stepping outside gender roles, and loving across gender lines that it’s honestly hard to keep track.

None of that, of course, is to say that A Chorus of Dragons is a story about sex and gender, but it is one in which their inherent diversities are acknowledged, understood, and accepted. I loved it!

Rating:

Can’t-Wait Wednesday: Disobedience by Daniel Sarah Karasik (scifi)

Can’t-Wait Wednesday is a weekly meme hosted here to spotlight and discuss the books we’re excited about that we have yet to read. Generally they’re books that have yet to be released. Find out more here.

My choice for this week, tying in with the #TransRightsReadathon theme ,is the story of environmental catastrophe, a vast prison camp, and a young transwoman caught between desire and rebellion.

Disobedience

by Daniel Sarah Karasik
Dystopian Fiction / Speculative Fiction
220 pages, Paperback
May 21, 2024 by Book*hug Press

Shael lives in a vast prison camp, a monstrosity developed after centuries of warfare and environmental catastrophe. As a young transfeminine person, they risk abject violence if their identity and love affair with Coe, an insurrectionary activist, are discovered. But desire and rebellion flare, and soon Shael escapes to Riverwish, a settlement attempting to forge a new way of living that counters the camp’s repression.

As the complexities of this place unfold before Shael, Disobedience asks: How can a community redress harm without reproducing unaccountable forms of violence? How do we heal? What might a compassionate, sustainable model of justice look like?

This is a remarkable work of queer and trans speculative fiction that imagines how alternative forms of connection and power can refuse the violent institutions that engulf us.

Goodreads | Bookshop

Book Review: A Conspiracy of Ravens by Dharma Kelleher (thriller)

Title: A Conspiracy of Ravens
Author: Dharma Kelleher
Publication Date: October 11, 2022 by Dark Pariah Press
Genres: Thriller
Protagonist Gender: Female

My final new review of this year’s #TransRightsReadathon is a book I’ve been eager to read, the start of a new series from a woman who makes transwomen kick ass.

A Conspiracy of Ravens marks the launch of a new series from the godmother of queer crime as the woman who gave us Jinx Ballou (transgender Bounty Hunter) and Shea Stevens (lesbian Outlaw Biker) introduces us to Avery Byrne (transgender Goth Vigilante). Dharma Kelleher herself is an openly transgender author, and that means her stories don’t just pander to or pay lip service to diversity, they are diverse in their very bones.

What immediately struck me about Avery Byrne is her vulnerability. Jinx and Shea are both kick-ass women, either one of whom you’d be happy to have on your side in a fight. One is an ex-cop and the other an ex-con, and they’ve been tested (and hardened) by the world around them. For all that Avery does have a tragic past, and has most certainly been tested, the young tattoo artist has yet to be hardened. She’s young enough to make foolish choices and naive enough to put her trust in the wrong people, but for all the right reasons.

The plot here is pretty simple. With her girlfriend having been murdered for stealing from the mob, Avery is running from both mob vengeance and police justice, all while the stink of corruption and the allure of millions of dollars blurs the lines between the two groups. On the run, it’s only when she’s painted into an impossible corner that she finds the courage to do something about the problem.

Like all of Dharma’s books, this is an action-packed, fast-paced thrill ride with characters who endear themselves to you. These are stories about marginalized groups, about people harassed for who they are or who they love, and she pulls no punches in confronting the ugliness of hatred. Like everything else I’ve read of hers, at times this made me furious, but overall the message is one of hope, of the power of love, friendship, and fond family.

Jinx does make an appearance here, and as much as that excited me, I was also anxious that she’d save the day from under Avery. I needn’t have worried. A Conspiracy of Ravens sees Avery tested and hardened, coming out the other side stronger and wiser, and I’m excited to see where the goth vigilante turns her attention next.

Rating: 1/2

Book Review: Worldbreaker Saga by Kameron Hurley (fantasy)

Title: Worldbreaker Saga
Author: Kameron Hurley
Publication Date: 2014-2020
Genres: Fantasy
Protagonist Gender: Female

I originally published my review of the first book 9 years ago, but I’m excited to seize the opportunity of this year’s #TransRightsReadathon to explore the trilogy as a whole.

Kameron Hurley’s Worldbreaker Saga is that rarest of fantasy beasts – a successful mainstream epic fantasy that is also boldly, brashly, and brazenly diverse.

It all begins with The Mirror Empire, which introduces us to a harsh, post-apocalyptic fantasy universe that is fully aware of its own mirror worlds. These are not just mirror worlds into which individuals accidentally slip, but worlds that wage war upon one another to survive the latest apocalyptic cycle. What is really interesting here is that everyone has a mirror counterpart, with whom they cannot coexist, leading to a sometimes confusing game of murder and usurpation. Most of the conflict centres upon a pacifist empire known as the Dhai, which just happens to be situated on the marching path of mirror conquerors.

As for that post-apocalyptic fantasy landscape, there is a strong theme of environmental awareness buried within it. Hurley avoids any long-winded speeches about the madness of foolishness of humanity, and does not bore the reader with details about we destroyed the world. Instead, she moves past all that, simply acknowledges that it happened, and shows us just how resilient –and vengeful – nature can be. This is a hostile environment with which humanity is constantly at war, fighting back carnivorous vegetation, including ‘bone trees’ that incorporate human bone shards into their bark.

In terms of gender, gender roles, and sexuality, this is certainly the most diverse epic fantasy I have ever encountered. Gender is as much about roles as it is biology, with both passive and assertive males and females, as well as truly genderfluid individuals. Even I was confused by the diversity of pronouns at times, so I can only imagine how a mainstream reader might feel, but it’s worth paying attention. Despite that gender diversity, however, this is largely a world of matriarchal societies, where masculine rulers are almost unheard of, and the very idea of a male warrior is laughed at. It is the women who make the decisions, who fight the battles, and who enjoy the spoils. Assertive men generally serve as clerics and scribes, while passive men serve as the equivalent of the stereotypical housewife, performing domestic chores and providing sexual release for their polyamorous marriage partners.

Despite the diversity and the imagination involved here, this is a very dark and very violent epic fantasy. Hurley ploughs through this first volume quickly, almost dragging the reader along in her wake, so that we do not truly appreciate what she has accomplished until the very end. There are a lot of characters and a lot of points-of-view, which only adds to the confusion, but it does personalize much of the diversity and really allow us to experience the world of the Worldbreaker Saga.

The Mirror Empire was such a mind-blowing a read,so ambitious, awesome, imaginative, and exhausting in equal measure, I had serious concerns as to how a sequel would fare – but Empire Ascendant proves to have even more layers (and worlds) than we thought, making it a more than worthy follow-up.

With the concept, the geographies, the cultures, and the characters already established, Hurley is free here to delve deeper and provide us with a more intimate understanding of the politics involved, as well as the family ties that so often drive them. Those conflicts are just as complicated and confusing as you might expect, given that we’re dealing with mirror universes and doppelgangers, and more than once we’re left questioning the morality of all sides.

And that’s where this book expands on the first, taking everything to a whole other level. We’re no longer just talking about ‘both’ sides here, no longer dealing with just the invasion of one world into another. As Oma’s rise approaches and the barriers between worlds grow ever thinner, there is a third power brought into play, one knows a thing or two about the breaking of the worlds

The first book had its challenges, and things do not get any easier here, which is just as it should be. Hurley throws even more character points-of-view into the mix, introducing new characters and elevating secondary characters from the first book to positions of significance here. I immediately reconnected with these characters, and was pleased to see them grow and develop, but what shocked me upon my reread of the series is how my own loyalties and sympathies shifted.

Zezili was a dark, deplorable highlight of my initial read, but upon encountering her a second time, I saw her for what she is – a gender-flipped grimdark fantasy protagonist who is willing to endure death and disfigurement, betray her Empress, and sacrifice an entire culture simply to rescue her husband. She’s not your typical hero. She commits horrible acts in pursuit of her husband. There’s even a lingering question of whether she’s doing so out of love or possession. It’s not that none of that matters, but that it makes her even more fascinating, more complex. I would argue that Zezili is one of the most important epic fantasy protagonists of the twenty-first century.

Everything Hurley introduced in the first book regarding gender and gender roles is all still there, just more assumed and less explained, with ‘ze’ and ‘hir’ pronouns having become so common, we cease to notice them. Hurley doesn’t need to call it out or wave the flag here because it’s just part of how her worlds exist, and that casual assumption actually makes it even more exciting. That’s not to say, of course, that it’s all left to subtlety. Saradyn, for instance, is so much of a male chauvinistic pig that he borders on parody. Pairing him with the quietly flamboyant Natanial, and then placing them both in close proximity to Anavha and Zezili, is a genius move that exemplifies so much about the gender gap.

As for the other characters, Lilia started to grow stale for me in the first book, but we see in her new life here that adds to the overall drama of the tale. Roh steps back a bit, spending more time in the shadows, almost throwing himself into the role of victim, but his arc has its surprises. Similarly, Nasaka is more a force or an influence here than a character, spending most of her time off the page, but her role is even more crucial than we could have expected. Taigan continues to be one of my favorite characters, gaining more depth as the story moves on. And, in a book defined by its damaged characters, Anavha probably surprised me the most, with his breaking near the end such a powerful scene. I wanted so much more for him, and I really hope he gets his moment in the finale.

Although this is a middle book, things actually happen here. You can feel the tension oozing off the page as the characters clash, cultures collide, and worlds approach an end. The plot develops as much, if not more so, than in the first book, and not always in ways you’d expect. There are twists and turns to the tale that even the most jaded readers won’t see coming as the story careens downhill towards an uncomfortable precipice. While I knew very well after the first book that no character was safe or sacred, and that not all of then would make it through to to the end, I was still shocked by a few deaths and betrayals, and even one moment of emancipation, all of which leave the story irrevocably changed.

If I had to describe the The Broken Heavens in a single word, ‘deceptive’ would be it. This is a book that’s deceptive in just about every way, and I can’t think of a better way to end the epic intensity of Worldbreaker Saga.

As the book opens, we’re presented with what feels like a smaller, more intimate tale, one that is focused on a few key players and a pair of key conflicts – Lilia and the Dhai versus Kirana and the Tai Mora – but (of course) it’s not that simple. Lilia is just as much in conflict with the Dhai, challenging an entire philosophy of pacifism with her desire for revenge, and her followers are standing in the way of the nation’s retreat. Then there’s the matter of Lilia’s own deceit, hiding the fact that she burned herself out.

Layered on top of all that is the reminder that, when you’re dealing with multiple worlds, with parallel people crossing over between mirror universes, deception is everywhere. Compounding that confusion is the surprise return of characters thought dead, cloaked in questions of whether they really are the characters we think, or just mirror counterparts from another world. Adding to that doubt is a kind of self-deception, with one of those most surprising characters suffering from a sort of short-term amnesia, leaving us to wonder if they even know whether they’re the real deal.

“There’s always another monster, another and another, behind them. You kill them, you become them, you lose everything you ever cared for.”

And self-deception is not just limited to amnesiacs. There are so many characters here lumbering under their own sense of self-deception, fooling themselves as to what their true motives and goals might be. They have become so adept at spinning lies, at presenting the right illusion to those around them, that when it comes time to choose sides, to decide upon a course of action, they’re not even sure what they want. Of course, even the illusion of choice is a deception, as Roh reminds us:

“There are more than two choices. It’s not all good or evil, this or that. We have the power to find other choices . . . I thought I had two choices, always, but there were more than that, always.”

Perhaps the book’s biggest deception, however, is allowing us to believe that the conflict could ever be so simple, just one leader versus another, one race against another. There are glimpses of other worlds throughout, literal drop-in reminders of just how many people are fleeing the destruction of their own worlds, but the first real clue that there may be a third power to contend with almost sneaks by. It isn’t fully appreciated until after the fact . . . and by then it’s far too late.

In terms of characters, I really like how Hurley brought Lilia to a natural conclusion, allowing her growth, self-revelation, and moments of both triumph and tragedy. We see her full potential here, and she rises to the occasion. Kirana becomes even more well-rounded in this final chapter and, despite all that horrors for which she’s responsible, it becomes increasingly harder to simply see her as a villain. Taigan was always a favorite, and I really like their arc here, free from the magical compulsions of the first two books, and what Hurley does with their immortality is immensely satisfying. Roh gets back into the action, becoming a voice of reason and a guiding influence, if not quite the hero we might have expected, and Anavha becomes a character in his own right, defined by neither Zezili nor Natanial, and yet still very much cringing in their shadows.

“Owned. I know it’s wrong. I know you and Natanial don’t like it, but I miss it. I miss other people telling me what to do. I hate having choices…”

While I truly wondered how, or even if, the saga could end – the cyclical nature of sagas like The Dark Tower kept lurking in my thoughts – I think that is where The Broken Heavens shines brightest. It’s not just the characters and the conflicts that come to a head here, but the entire mythology of the worlds, the gates, and the temples. Given all the build-up to the temples, the satellites, and the breaking of worlds, there’s a lot to deliver here, and Hurley delivers on all of it. More importantly, she looks beyond the end, giving us a thoughtful meditation on all that’s happened and what it means going forward. Outstanding in every respect.

Rating:

Book Review: For the Love of April French by Penny Aimes (romance)

Title: For the Love of April French
Author: Penny Aimes
Publication Date: August 31, 2021
Genres: Romance
Protagonist Gender: Female

I originally published this review 3 years ago, making it one of my more recent titles to revisit for this year’s #TransRightsReadathon, but it’s an important one and one worth reading.

For a sweet, happily-ever-after romance, For the Love of April French hit me hard. Beneath the romance, behind the power-exchange erotica, and underneath the questions of privilege and prejudice, there’s an exploration of self-esteem and self-acceptance that absolutely gutted me. There’s so much of April’s internal trauma that resonated with me, going right to my heart, that reading this left me in a dark, contemplative place for a few days.

Having climbed back out of that place, full of as many questions as revelations, I can honestly say that I unequivocally loved this book. Penny Aimes explores the story from both April and Dennis’ points of view, with story threads that overlap, showing how each of them saw things and responded to them. The extended timeline is a bit odd for a romance, but perfectly fitting for a power-exchange story built on edging and orgasm denial.

I loved the pairing of a self-made millionaire and a self-made woman, one having endured a lifetime of prejudice because of his race, the other because of her gender. Both have their own character arcs of self-realization and self-improvement within the story, and it’s all tied directly into the power-exchange. That erotic element adds a whole new layer to the story, and Aimes captures it beautifully, going beyond bondage and punishment to explore the emotional bond between Dominant and submissive, complete with safewords and aftercare. It really brought the story to life for me, and it’s a big part of why (as a genderfluid submissive) I identified so strongly with April.

Getting back to April, Aimes takes an honest, realistic approach to building out her character, and I love her for doing it. She’s not some perfect, plastic, pretty girl. She deals with passing, struggles with her voice, and suffers through the pain of all-day electrolysis. Despite all that, she is happy with who she has become. Dennis loves her for who she is, inside and out, and supports her through all of it, which makes him just about the world’s most perfect Dominant and lover. Aimes could have played it safe, she could have pandered to a cis vanilla audience who might have had an easier time accepting a perfect heroine, but it wouldn’t be the same book, and it wouldn’t have half the emotional impact.

Finally, I have to give credit to the wider cast. Whether it’s in the office or the kink club, there’s also a lovely cast of supporting characters who bring some added resonance to the story, including April’s pregnant coworker (who I loved), a lesbian BDSM couple (who I adored), and a cis submissive (who I came to respect). For the Love of April French is an unusual romance, but it works on all levels, and should resonate with a wide range of readers, trans/nonbinary, allies, or otherwise.

Rating:

Book Review: The Tamir Trilogy by Lynn Flewelling (Fantasy)

Title: The Tamir Triad
Author: Lynn Flewelling
Publication Date: 2001-2006
Genres: Epic Fantasy
Protagonist Gender: Female

I originally published this review back in the summer of 2010, but I read the first book long before that. I’m excited to revisit it for this year’s #TransRightsReadathon.

The Tamir Triad isn’t necessarily a transgender story, but it is a story of gender, transition, and coming out. At the time it was published, it was the only mass market fantasy novel I’d ever encountered that made me feel seen, that hit me so hard, I remember how a pivotal moment left me shaking to the point where I had to take a long, late night walk to calm myself.

The Bone Doll’s Twin sets-up the story and sends us on our way. In an age of plague and war, a girl child is destined to take her place as the rightful Queen, to reunite the people, and to bring peace back to the land. To thwart this prophecy and ensure his continued rule, the King carefully monitors all noble births and arranges to have the female children murdered.

When a daughter is born into the king’s family, the odds of her escaping notice (much less death) are decidedly bleak. However, there is another child – a boy – sharing their mother’s womb. Sadly, for one to live (and rule), the other must die. An act of darkest magic binds the twins together, concealing Tobin’s true gender with that of her brother. Fittingly, for a night of such dark magic, events do not go as planned. The boy child, who was to be declared stillborn, draws a single breath before his life is cut short.

That bleak mistake leaves the future queen tormented by the angry ghost of her death brother, drives their father into near-exile, and sets their unwitting mother on the path to madness and death. This is a dark, creepy, and deeply unsettling story that will have you questioning whether the end can possibly justify the means. Prince Tobin is brought up believing herself to be a boy, with only her father, her nanny, and a trio of wizards privy to the truth of her gender. We watch as she grows up, alone, isolated from the world, trapped as much in the confines of a gothic castle as in an ill-fitting body.

Perhaps not surprisingly for an author who so tenderly dealt with the intricacies of bisexual romance in her Nightrunner Series, Lynn Flewelling does an absolutely masterful job of handling Tobin’s growing gender conflict. As readers who know the secret, the very subtle cues as to Tobin’s true gender are as clear as they are heartbreaking, even while it remains completely conceivable how others can remain oblivious. Transgender, genderfluid, and nonbinary readers especially will sympathise with Tobin’s plight. For us, the cure may be surgical rather than magical, but that feeling of being trapped in a body that doesn’t fit, doesn’t reflect who we are inside, is all-too familiar.

Hidden Warrior (and there will be spoilers from here on in!) continues the story, as Tobin tries to fit in at court with her cousin, the Prince, the other noble children, and their squires. By this point in the trilogy, Tobin knows the truth about herself, leaving her to not only to cope with her own destiny, but to struggle with a secret that threatens to change everything and everyone around herself.

While not as dark and gothic as the first volume, this one is equally as bleak. We see a young ‘boy’ struggling with the knowledge that he’s really a girl inside, and fighting the thoughts and feelings of the one, which do not mesh with the other. Confusing matters further is Tobin’s awkward relationship with Ki, his long-time, faithful squire. By the end of this second volume, it’s clear that they have feelings for one another, even if one can’t express them and the other can’t really understand them. In Ki, we find the friend every one of us craves – never have I loved a supporting character more.

Once again, for trans/nonbinary readers, Tobin’s emerging conflicts really hit home, but Flewelling handles them beautifully. It’s a heartbreaking struggle to witness (and to share), but there is a glimmer of hope on the horizon. We get the sense that the truth truly will set her free.

The Oracle’s Queen brings all the threads together for a triumphant conclusion. War comes to the kingdom, forcing an end to the awkward stasis that has plagued the land. When the King is slain, Prince Korin must take the throne, despite having already proven himself a poor choice to lead the land in battle. In order to save the realm from Korin’s failings (and the greater failings of his court wizard), Tobin must reveal herself to the world and declare herself Queen Tamir.

Even though we, as readers, know it’s coming – it’s inevitable, in fact – the dissolution of the magic, revealing Tobin as Tamir, is absolutely breathtaking. It’s bold, it’s beautiful, and (for the sake of regal legitimacy) it’s a coming out/transition that is very much public. This is an act that needs to be witnessed, and witnessed it is! If her coming out doesn’t leave you in tears, then you have my condolences for your absent heart.

Sadly, this magical moment does not mark an end to Tamir’s suffering. If anything, it adds to it. Many across the kingdom refuse to believe it, either accusing her (ironically) of being a boy in drag, or simply distrusting the magic used to disguise her for so many years. It’s just one more challenge our heroine must face, one more evil to defeat, before our story can come to an end.

As I said, this isn’t necessarily a transgender story, and I have no idea whether Flewelling has any transgender friends who influenced this, much less whether she intended to so accurately mirror the experience of a modern day transwoman, but she does a magnificent job.

Rating:

Book Review: The Companion by E.E. Ottoman (romance)

Title: The Companion
Author: E.E. Ottoman
Publication Date: April 16, 2021
Genres: Historical Romance
Protagonist Gender: Female

My second new review of this year’s #TransRightsReadathon is a book I’ve had on my shelf for a couple of years.

The Companion was . . . well, just okay. It was an okay read, one that I neither loved nor loathed, but it’s only been a day and I already struggle to remember much about it. E.E. Ottoman is a lovely writer who knows how to use language and setting to orient the reader with the story, but as far as story goes, there’s not much of it.

Basically, this is the story of three people, all of them transgender, who find a safe space outside town, in the forests of Upstate New York. They all have a great deal of baggage, struggles both social and creative, but instead of using their seclusion to unpack that baggage, to deal with it, to grow from it, they . . . well, just sort of quietly acknowledge it and leave it to fester in the background. There’s no growth, no conflict, and no tension to propel the story forward. Aside from their relationship, nothing changes.

This was far more sexual than I expected from the blurb, and while I have zero problems with erotic content, the suddenness of it all didn’t sit well with me. Characters are barely introduced, still at the awkward stage of getting to know one another, and one second they’re kissing, the next they’re being intimate. On top of that, Madeline goes from quiet, timid virgin to bold, confident sexual experimenter so quickly that I had emotional whiplash. All of that might be fine in hardcore erotica, where you hardly expect plot or character development, but it felt out of place in an historical romance.

Speaking of historical, the story goes to great lengths to avoid describing genitalia or sexual mechanics, which I think is wonderful and admirable, as gender identity and expression should be about more than what’s between our legs. That being said, I got the sense that at least two of the characters had surgically transitioned, which would be a year too early for anybody in the US, and knowing that took me out of the story.

There is a cozy sort of romance to be found here, and Madeline and Audrey are very sweet together. I loved the idea of a safe space, and the fairy tale allusions in the forest were delightful. Beyond that, though, I’m sad to say The Companion isn’t a story that will stick with me.

Rating:

Book Review: Silver by Darcy Abriel (erotic scifi)

Title: Silver
Author: Darcy Abriel
Publication Date: October 18, 2010
Genres: Erotic Scifi
Protagonist Gender: Female

I originally published this review back in December 2012, when I was an editor at Frock Magazine, and it’s the one I had to revisit for this year’s #TransRightsReadathon.

I said it in my review of The Secret Self and I’ll say it again – important books stick with you. It’s not just about the story or the characters (although they clearly matter), but about who you were when you first read the story.

Silver by Darcy Abriel is one of those books.

12 years ago I was in a comfortable place. I’d come out to my wife, and we’d not only found a level of comfort and happiness with my gender expression that I had never dared imagine possible, but we finally had a baby, work was going well, and I’d been promoted from a contributing book reviewer to an editor at Frock Magazine.

While there were books we were sent for review at Frock, I had complete freedom to feature any books that I was reading, which I felt our readers might connect with. Darcy had reached out to me for a review, offering me a copy of Silver, and I knew within the first few chapters that it was going to be one that I had to share with that wider audience.

Silver is a big, intricate, plot-driven work of science fiction, complete with a diverse cast of well-developed characters, and (yes) a whole lot of kinky sex. In terms of sheer eroticism, this may be the most imaginative novel I’ve ever come across, but what’s truly exciting is that Darcy Abriel does it all within the context of a powerful dystopian sci-fi thriller.

Here we have a future city by the name of Quentopolis, a place where cybernetic augmentation has become so commonplace that a 50% augmentation threshold has been established between citizen and property. Ruled by the human members of the Politico, the city is facing a violent rebellion from the Metallitionist Resistance, who argue that no amount of modification should reduce one to a life of slavery. It’s a story of the fight for justice, but it’s also a story of the thirst for revenge. Ulterior motives abound (on both sides of the divide), and appearances most certainly are almost always deceiving.

Lel Kesselbaum is not just a high-ranking member of the Politico, he’s also part of an erotic, BDSM-driven segment of the nobility known as the Dominatae. Cold, distant, and cruel at first glance, he’s a man with genuine complexity beneath the surface. Watching him develop through the course of the story is utterly fascinating. His rival in the tale, the protagonist to his antagonist, is Entreus, a mechanized Orictian warrior who now leads the Metallitionist Resistance. Mechanically augmented to be the perfect warrior, and trained in the fine arts of killing, he’s at odds with his own cause in seeking a peaceful means of driving change from within the system itself.

Connecting these two men is the character of Silver herself – and she is where the story gets really so very interesting. One of those citizens who crossed the mechanical threshold, she has been further modified by her owner, Kesselbaum, into a creature of impossible beauty. Silver is a humanotic, a genderfluid sex goddess with a silver-tipped phallus. She has been conditioned to both give and receive pleasure, and is trained in the arts of both dominance and submission, making her an effective tool for his political maneuverings. She is still human at heart, however, which complicates matters when she’s assigned to master the secrets of Entreus, and finds herself falling in love with his reluctant submission to her trinex charms.

Alternately violent and erotic, Silver is a story that more than delivers on its promise. There is a stellar sci-fi thriller here, with enough twists and surprises to keep even the most jaded reader entertained, along with a truly inventive erotic romance, with each new sexual innovation topping the one before it.

Silver as a character endeared herself to me, becoming someone whom I admired, adored, appreciated, and even envied. Check your expectations and your inhibitions at the door, because Silver as a book is a story that will take you to some strangely exciting places, and make you think along the way.

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Book Review: Her Majesty’s Royal Coven by Juno Dawson (urban fantasy)

Title: Her Majesty’s Royal Coven
Author: Juno Dawson
Publication Date: May 31, 2022 by Penguin Books
Genres: Urban Fantasy
Protagonist Gender: Female

My first new review of this year’s #TransRightsReadathon is a book I’ve had my eye on for quite a while and finally picked up because another reviewer explored the transgender aspect – and might-read became must-read.

Her Majesty’s Royal Coven is an urban fantasy about witches and women, sisters and mothers, history and identity, and the cycles of violence and oppression that plague the world. Juno Dawson has cast her spell over a work of literary magic that’s as emotional as it is exciting, with a revelation I hoped was coming, a twist I hoped wasn’t, and a cliffhanger that I didn’t expect.

Helena, Niamh, Leonie, and Elle are childhood friends, witches one and all, survivors of a brutal war between witches and warlocks, who have since gone their own ways. One has risen to lead the royal coven, one has started her rival coven of diversity (welcoming women of all races, cultures, and LGBTQIA identities), one who has taken a step back to turn her powers to becoming a veterinarian, and one who has turned her back to become an ordinary housewife.

It’s the problem of an out-of-control magical child that brings them back together, and while it’s the prophecy of The Sullied Child that threatens their sisterhood, it’s something entirely human that ultimately tears them apart.

Hatred. Fear. Prejudice. Intolerance. Call it what you will, the fate of witches (and possibly the world) rests on that pivotal child and a question of acceptance or rejection.

Spoilers

Theo is a quiet, reclusive child who is haunted as much by memories of their past as confusion about their present. We quickly learn they are an adept, not only more powerful than any warlock (man) alive, but any witch (woman) as well. What we don’t learn until halfway through the book is that they are transgender, a woman in their heart and soul, who only wants to be seen and accepted for who they are.

For a book of magic and fantasy, there are some very deep, very angry conversations about gender identity and gender politics, about whether Theo can ever be accepted as a ‘real’ woman, and it’s to Dawson’s credit that fictional characters can endear themselves to me as much as friends, and infuriate me as much as foes. She refuses to pull her punches or suggest there can be a middle ground. This is a story that demands you take sides, as it should, because to remain indecisive is to stand by and watch as Leviathan destroys the world.

Parts of the story are almost Hallmark-worthy, scenes of family tenderness, friendship drama, and will-they-won’t-they romance. Others are the stuff of daytime talk shows, discussions around feminism, white privilege, gender discrimination, and more. Still others are the stuff of Gothic beauty, with a love and reverence for nature, while the final act is pure MCU territory, with magical battles that rival any big-screen superhero movie. It’s a lot, and sometimes the transitions (or overlaps) are a bit intense, but when it feels preachy, you can tell it’s from a place of frustration, and I can’t quibble with any of it.

To say Her Majesty’s Royal Coven was not what I expected is an understatement, but one that opened me up to an absolute delight. I loved this story, I felt this story, in ways that few authors can make me feel. There were moments that made me smile, moments that had me reading through tears, and still others that had me leaping to my feet in outrage or triumph. I am so very glad I gave this a read, and I ordered a copy of The Shadow Cabinet the moment I finished because I want to enjoy the anticipation for Queen B.

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Book Review: The Secret Self by Christina Shelly (erotic romance)

Title: The Secret Self
Author: Christina Shelly
Publication Date: October 1, 2006
Genres: Erotic Romance
Protagonist Gender: Female

I originally ran this review way back in December 2010, and it’s the first that I wanted to revisit for this year’s #TransRightsReadathon.

Important books stick with you. It’s not just about the story or the characters (although they clearly matter), but about who you were when you first read the story.

The Secret Self by Christina Shelly is one of those books.

14 years ago I was very much in a transition phase. I’d come out to my wife, we’d had many wonderful (and some painful) chats about gender, and we’d gotten through the question of trust that had plagued our relationship since that coming out. I still didn’t know who I was or how I identified but, for the first time, we both knew it wasn’t necessarily as who she’d fallen in love with.

At the time, I was already aware of Christina Shelly, having read some of the books in her Silken Slavery series. These were hugely important books for me because they were mass market paperbacks that I could buy right off the shelf at the bookstore in the mall. Not cheap mail order chapbooks, not glossy digest magazines kept behind the counter at the variety store, but paperbacks you could buy alongside the latest selections by Stephen King or Robert Jordan.

Unlike so much of the commercially produced erotica available at back then in the form of Nexus, Masquerade, or Sapphire paperbacks, which paid lip service to the transgender community by mixing a little forced feminization in with the female domination, Christina’s books were unapologetically for and about ready-and-willing transgender women.

With The Secret Self, Christina took that expression to the next step. Her protagonist is already an accomplished, extremely passable crossdresser, although one stuck very much in the closet. While there is a femdom element to the backstory, with a Mistress largely removed from the immediate action, that relationship is more about forcing Adam to overcome his fears and fully embrace the Eve within than it is about forcing him to be something/somebody he doesn’t want to be.

Much of the story revolves around an exclusive, invitation only club (Crème de la Crème), populated by the transgender/genderfluid community and their admirers. There, Eve is challenged and encouraged to explore her secret self. Christina’s descriptions of how it feels to dress, walk, and act like a girl are absolutely breathtaking. She doesn’t gloss over the preparation, and doesn’t shy away from the confusion of being in transition.

This isn’t just a story about sexual fetishism, no matter how delicious those scenes may be. It’s a story about relationships. As the story progresses, Eve find herself involved in a relationship with two Mistresses (one largely off-stage, and the other very prominent in the club); another transwoman whom she admires, envies, and adores; and a male admirer who pushes her to complete her transformation. The romance that develops between Eve and Richard is one of the strongest aspects of the novel. It’s not something Adam could ever want, but it is something Eve is coming to desire, and Christina handles that emotional conflict between beautifully.

The relationship between Eve and Richard is an intense one. He is the strong, forceful, dominant male that Eve craves if she is to let go of the lingering aspects of Adam’s persona. Even though Richard treats her like a woman, the spectre of her dual-persona is always there, and they frequently cross the line from romance to BDSM in an attempt to overwhelm those ‘drab’ memories. Even as we thrill at Eve’s seduction, however, we never entirely trust Richard or his motivations.

Fortunately, whenever things start to get too intense, Christina smartly reintroduces Cherry into the action. A long-time member of Crème de la Crème, she serves as Eve’s buxom and beautiful transition guide. She is equal parts big-sister, BFF, and bisexual lover. Eve’s relationship with Cherry is never casual, but sweet, silly, fun, and even a little bit frantic. Their roles within the club don’t allow them much time to play, but you can’t help but smile every time they get together.

Without giving away too much, the book’s conclusion is as deeply arousing as it is satisfying. Yes, it’s very heavily weighted on the fantasy side of things, but that’s entirely appropriate for a story about dreams and desires.

I identified with Adam/Eve, with their desires, their wants, and their confusion. Though Christina’s eyes, I felt as if I had a chance to explore who I could be, who I might be, and to be invited to do so openly was a pivotal experience.

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