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Bride of the Rat God
Chrysanda Flamande was the sultriest vamp of the silver screen in Hollywood, California, in the year 1923. Then an elderly Chinese gentleman warned her that a trinket she'd worn in her last movie had marked her to be the bride of an ancient devil-god of Manchuria. Now the Rat God is stalking closer, and Chrysanda is discovering that there's no mousetrap big enough to keep her from being dragged unwilling to the altar!
338 pages, Paperback
First published October 31, 1994
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810 people want to read
About the author
Barbara Hambly
204 books1,582 followersaka Barbara Hamilton
Ranging from fantasy to historical fiction, Barbara Hambly has a masterful way of spinning a story. Her twisty plots involve memorable characters, lavish descriptions, scads of novel words, and interesting devices. Her work spans the Star Wars universe, antebellum New Orleans, and various fantasy worlds, sometimes linked with our own.
"I always wanted to be a writer but everyone kept telling me it was impossible to break into the field or make money. I've proven them wrong on both counts."
-Barbara Hambly
Ranging from fantasy to historical fiction, Barbara Hambly has a masterful way of spinning a story. Her twisty plots involve memorable characters, lavish descriptions, scads of novel words, and interesting devices. Her work spans the Star Wars universe, antebellum New Orleans, and various fantasy worlds, sometimes linked with our own.
"I always wanted to be a writer but everyone kept telling me it was impossible to break into the field or make money. I've proven them wrong on both counts."
-Barbara Hambly
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 137 reviews
February 9, 2022
With the first two pages, I admit I was worried. Over-dramatic, stereotypical imagery; a helpless, pursued heroine, a moonlit night, bloody hands, steep cliffs. I persevered with faith in my fellow reviewers, and discovered the campy beginning was only a scene from Chrysanda Flamande’s latest movie, “Kiss of Darkness.” Her impoverished sister-in-law, Norah, and she are at the movie’s premiere. A multi-thread plot line surrounds a growing sense of danger on the latest movie set, a persistent and mysterious elderly Chinese man, and Norah’s feelings of loss and growing attraction to Alec the cameraman.
The first edition of this book has a 50’s pulp cover, terribly misleading to both the story and writing style. Past president of the SciFi Fantasy Writers of America, multiple Locus award nominee, and Nebula winner, Hambly is a highly skilled and successful writer. Her bibliography ranges from epic fantasy to Star Wars/Trek novels to historical mysteries and fiction, but nothing in her writing comes close to the fast and loose writing of pulp magazines. Bride combines her best skills here; a lavish historical setting with a disconcerting mystery of supernatural origins. I loved the beautiful, eerie atmosphere, the characterization of Hollywood in the 1920s, the cast of characters, and even the slowly developing plot.
"Whatever else could be said of her, her beautiful sister-in-law—vain, selfish, and apt to float through life on a sea of pink gin and discarded lovers—had rescued her from that, and the gift of renewed laughter was among the most precious she’d ever received."
The story is told from Norah's point of view and her sensible, outsider voice is relatable. Besides being Christine’s companion, one of Norah’s jobs is caring for three Pekingese dogs. In true Hollywood fashion, they go everywhere with her, even to the movie set. There's the sense they might be something more.
“They turned their heads at the sound of her voice, three flat-nosed faces weirdly human, like enchanted children deformed by fairy malice.”
Characters were a high point for me. Although I was slightly overwhelmed with names in the beginning, it soon sorted out. For the most part, all the primary and secondary characters felt multi-dimensional. The Big Bad Evil developed, mysterious at first and then gradually more present. Special note should be made of the wonderful, realistic description of the three dogs who play an important role in the plot–Black Jasmine (with one eye), Chang Ming, and Buttercreme (the princess). It was no surprise to read the afterward and learn that Hambly has four Pekingese dogs. She’s able to capture the sense of three different dog personalities without excessive anthropomorphizing their behavior.
“Across the court the greater Ned dropped a bean sprout; the little dog bolted in instant pursuit. For the next five minutes he lay, holding the vegetable upright between his paw and licking it perplexedly, before giving up.”
Hambly struck the perfect balance in characterization. Although Christine runs the risk of being a stereotypical star, dramatic and self-centered, her obvious affection for Norah and rough upbringing save her from being completely unlikable and ridiculous. In many ways, she becomes the supporting character to Norah’s story. Likewise, though Norah could have been a facile stereotype of the downtrodden lady’s maid, she actually has a good deal of influence and determination in her own life as well as Christine’s. She and Christine are often more like partners in crime, particularly when thwarting unwanted admirers.
“Like all her gestures, the movement combined glowing theatricality with genuine warmth. Everything Christine did was fifty percent sham, but the other fifty percent, Norah reflected, was pure gold.”
One of the challenges in writing a period piece is acknowledging all the -isms in a way that is consistent without completely alienating the modern reader. Without being too spoilery, the artifact that begins the trouble in this story belongs to a demon/god of the Manchu tribe, who was then worshipped in secret after the Manchu took control of the Chinese empire. To me, Hambly acknowledged much of the racism in the 20s in the way the Western characters interacted with various Chinese people, but without engaging in the worst offenses. One clever way this is dealt with is through Christine’s ‘love’ of all things Chinese–although she is confused by Chinese history and why Chinatown “doesn’t have those decorative round gates.” It emphasizes the appropriation of the ‘exotic’ without any real understanding or appreciation. That said, it surprised me a little that sexuality was fairly open, including acknowledging an aging gay star, and the women seemed as about as empowered as they are now (take that for what it’s worth!). Given Hambly started as a historian, and I am most absolutely not, I’ll go with her version of the 20s.
The plot ends up being rather straightforward, with most of the tension developing as characters gradually recognize and then manage their danger. Hambly keeps events moving, from the beginning movie premiere, to an after party in a cafe/bootlegger’s, to Christine and Norah’s hillside home. It doesn’t take long before a murder occurs and an actor goes missing.
I have a quibble or two, which I suspect can be blamed on the Kindle edition. There’s a few rough transitions where I didn’t realize we changed scenes or speakers. I suspect that might have been better understood by visual separation in a paper version, and the Kindle ruined the formatting. And, personally, the use of the word “queue’ to describe a long hair braid annoyed me. On bonus side, I enjoyed Hambly’s afterward and the note on her dogs.
Overall, an immensely satisfying read that went down in a couple of days. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why it came to my attention, but when I recognized the title on a Kindle special, I snapped it up. Thankfully, I can now re-read to my heart’s content without angering the Librarian Gods.
http://clsiewert.wordpress.com/2014/0...
The first edition of this book has a 50’s pulp cover, terribly misleading to both the story and writing style. Past president of the SciFi Fantasy Writers of America, multiple Locus award nominee, and Nebula winner, Hambly is a highly skilled and successful writer. Her bibliography ranges from epic fantasy to Star Wars/Trek novels to historical mysteries and fiction, but nothing in her writing comes close to the fast and loose writing of pulp magazines. Bride combines her best skills here; a lavish historical setting with a disconcerting mystery of supernatural origins. I loved the beautiful, eerie atmosphere, the characterization of Hollywood in the 1920s, the cast of characters, and even the slowly developing plot.
"Whatever else could be said of her, her beautiful sister-in-law—vain, selfish, and apt to float through life on a sea of pink gin and discarded lovers—had rescued her from that, and the gift of renewed laughter was among the most precious she’d ever received."
The story is told from Norah's point of view and her sensible, outsider voice is relatable. Besides being Christine’s companion, one of Norah’s jobs is caring for three Pekingese dogs. In true Hollywood fashion, they go everywhere with her, even to the movie set. There's the sense they might be something more.
“They turned their heads at the sound of her voice, three flat-nosed faces weirdly human, like enchanted children deformed by fairy malice.”
Characters were a high point for me. Although I was slightly overwhelmed with names in the beginning, it soon sorted out. For the most part, all the primary and secondary characters felt multi-dimensional. The Big Bad Evil developed, mysterious at first and then gradually more present. Special note should be made of the wonderful, realistic description of the three dogs who play an important role in the plot–Black Jasmine (with one eye), Chang Ming, and Buttercreme (the princess). It was no surprise to read the afterward and learn that Hambly has four Pekingese dogs. She’s able to capture the sense of three different dog personalities without excessive anthropomorphizing their behavior.
“Across the court the greater Ned dropped a bean sprout; the little dog bolted in instant pursuit. For the next five minutes he lay, holding the vegetable upright between his paw and licking it perplexedly, before giving up.”
Hambly struck the perfect balance in characterization. Although Christine runs the risk of being a stereotypical star, dramatic and self-centered, her obvious affection for Norah and rough upbringing save her from being completely unlikable and ridiculous. In many ways, she becomes the supporting character to Norah’s story. Likewise, though Norah could have been a facile stereotype of the downtrodden lady’s maid, she actually has a good deal of influence and determination in her own life as well as Christine’s. She and Christine are often more like partners in crime, particularly when thwarting unwanted admirers.
“Like all her gestures, the movement combined glowing theatricality with genuine warmth. Everything Christine did was fifty percent sham, but the other fifty percent, Norah reflected, was pure gold.”
One of the challenges in writing a period piece is acknowledging all the -isms in a way that is consistent without completely alienating the modern reader. Without being too spoilery, the artifact that begins the trouble in this story belongs to a demon/god of the Manchu tribe, who was then worshipped in secret after the Manchu took control of the Chinese empire. To me, Hambly acknowledged much of the racism in the 20s in the way the Western characters interacted with various Chinese people, but without engaging in the worst offenses. One clever way this is dealt with is through Christine’s ‘love’ of all things Chinese–although she is confused by Chinese history and why Chinatown “doesn’t have those decorative round gates.” It emphasizes the appropriation of the ‘exotic’ without any real understanding or appreciation. That said, it surprised me a little that sexuality was fairly open, including acknowledging an aging gay star, and the women seemed as about as empowered as they are now (take that for what it’s worth!). Given Hambly started as a historian, and I am most absolutely not, I’ll go with her version of the 20s.
The plot ends up being rather straightforward, with most of the tension developing as characters gradually recognize and then manage their danger. Hambly keeps events moving, from the beginning movie premiere, to an after party in a cafe/bootlegger’s, to Christine and Norah’s hillside home. It doesn’t take long before a murder occurs and an actor goes missing.
I have a quibble or two, which I suspect can be blamed on the Kindle edition. There’s a few rough transitions where I didn’t realize we changed scenes or speakers. I suspect that might have been better understood by visual separation in a paper version, and the Kindle ruined the formatting. And, personally, the use of the word “queue’ to describe a long hair braid annoyed me. On bonus side, I enjoyed Hambly’s afterward and the note on her dogs.
Overall, an immensely satisfying read that went down in a couple of days. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why it came to my attention, but when I recognized the title on a Kindle special, I snapped it up. Thankfully, I can now re-read to my heart’s content without angering the Librarian Gods.
http://clsiewert.wordpress.com/2014/0...
June 29, 2019
It's not fair. It's not fair to other writers I'll read after this book – Barbara Hambly is going to make most of them look bad, and I feel sorry for them. It's also not fair to me as the reader to set the bar this high, so that I am perpetually a little dissatisfied with almost everything else.
We won't even get into what she does to my own writing and opinion thereof.
This is the first time I'm writing a second review of a book. I reread BofRG for pure pleasure over two years ago, and wrote a brief paean to it on my blog. I remembered a great deal for this reread, but it didn't impair my pure pleasure. The only thing that did that was a less-than-perfect Kindle edition, in which a couple of "th"'s transmuted into "m"'s and line breaks and skipped lines were erratic. (Conversations often took place in one paragraph without correct breaks to indicate new speakers.) And that's not enough to make me think about knocking off a star. (I'm getting used to cranky editions, sadly.) (One odd thing: the book description says "This ebook features an illustrated biography of Barbara Hambly, including rare photos and never-before-seen documents from the author’s personal collection." Not my copy…)
The book: Some few months ago, the great American silent film actress Chrysanda Flamande swooped in and rescued her brother's British widow Norah from a life of silent desperation. This was partly an action of generosity – Norah was in a genuinely bad place – but also an act born of self-centeredness: Chrysanda, known to everyone who knows her as Christine, wanted to buy some Pekingese and the breeder wasn't comfortable with her breezy plans for their care, and Norah would suit admirably as dog wrangler. "Everything Christine did was fifty percent show, but the other fifty percent, Norah reflected, was pure gold."
Change the percentages and the same could be applied to the book: maybe 2% pure show, in the presentation through the mad B-movie title and original paperback cover art, and the rest pure gold. (I don't much like the new cover; the necklace is utterly wrong. Opals, people – though the Open Road insignia does fit into the image rather neatly, whether it was intentional or not.) I said in my original review that this might well be my favorite book by Barbara Hambly – which is saying something – and I stand by that.
The evil is well-drawn – too well, perhaps, for peace of mind. It's what Barbara Hambly does best, that unique brand of dear-God-what-was-that-noise menace escalating to there's-no-way-we're-surviving-this danger. The malevolence her heroes strive against is big, and canny, and powerful – so powerful. And inescapable.
Characterization is extraordinary. What Barbara Hambly does best is the slightly gawky, socially awkward, quietly intelligent character. Here it's Norah, who is bemused by the Oz she has been lofted into by her whirlwind sister-in-law, and is thrown into a roil of emotions by unexpected love in the midst of even more unexpected Gothic danger. The pain of her past is heartbreakingly real, and even more heartbreaking when it is dragged into the present. That aforementioned whirlwind, Christine, could very easily (in other hands) have been a cliché of superficiality, all hair and makeup and frou-frou, a steel lily of a gold-digger. She shouldn't be a sympathetic character. But she is, deeply – she inspires devotion in her dogs and a string of men and millions of adoring fans, and in her sister-in-law, and in an elderly Chinese man trying to help her, and, in the end, in the reader. She's terrific. Charlie Sandringham doesn't have a huge role, but it is a very, very effective one, three-dimensional and believable. In fact, all of the "bit players" are very, very effective – I think I wrote the first time I blathered about this book that Barbara Hambly takes to heart what Joss Whedon said about Jayne, and in fact all characters: he is the hero of his own story. Any one of the characters mentioned in the pages of a book by Barbara Hambly could, had she the time and inclination, be expanded into his or her own adventure. (There's a fan-fic challenge…) Shang Ko is a worthy member of the guild of elderly wizards in Ms. Hambly's work, could certainly support several volumes on his life story alone. Alex is … Alex could well be the man of my dreams, but I think I've probably thought that about half of Ms. Hambly's male characters. When Norah asks him "What did he offer you?" the question goes unanswered, and the evasion hurts because his pain is obvious.
These are the people who need to win the fight, who almost don't realize there is a fight simply because they're realistically so busy with their lives, and Ms. Hambly always sets it up so that the reader wants to find a sword or spellbook or baseball bat and help them win – the sort of feeling you find in great young adult fiction, in a book for grown-ups. (The only reason I think I'd hesitate to say this was suitable for young adults would be the depth of evil in the Rat God, creepy as hell … but then again I have this fuddy-duddy feeling that teenagers these days are reading things that would have had me sleeping with six teddy bears and all the lights on, AND the dog.)
Oh, the dogs. I talked about them in my original review, but I have to do it again. Chang Ming, Buttercreme, and Black Jasmine, Christine's three Pekingese, are stronger characters without saying a single word than perhaps four-fifths of all the other characters in fiction. (Not a random number, that; I'm serious.) Ms. Hambly knows dogs, and she knows these dogs – Pekingese are different, and she knows, intimately, just how. She knows how walking more than one dog invariably means crossed leashes, and the politics of the supper dish. She knows how to show a very distinct personality for each dog without in any way anthropomorphizing them. (Deifying, maybe a little, but that's in keeping.) I never wanted a Peke until I read this book. Now I want one – and I want to adopt one with only one eye.
As far as Norah knew, Chang Ming would no more have tried to bite her than he'd have stolen a car.
What Barbara Hambly does best is description. The dogs are as unique as they are in part because she worked in wonderful word-pictures of them throughout the book. "That peculiarly businesslike Pekingese toddle, fur flouncing, as if to say Places to go. Things to do." I've seen Pekes in dog shows – that is perfect phrasing. I will remember the image of Alex's curly red hair and beard and glasses and humor, Christine's tousled black-haired gorgeousness and steel lily strength, Norah's height and wryness and brown-sugar hair long after I've forgotten most books' characters. Her mention of the Chinese gentleman's "bartered blue coat" uses a lovely economy of words to say everything necessary about that coat, and a good bit about the gentleman.
And her settings are superb, from the mundane:
(I don't know why that seems so perfect to me)
… to the sublimely ridiculous:
The setting is always sensual and alive and memorable. This is a glorious evocation of 1927 Hollywood, and it makes me want to go rent a Valentino movie. (What I really want to see is the movie they're making in the book: Kiss of Darkness, heaven help me.) The glamour of a Chrysanda Flamande shoot, with a slapstick comedy filming on the other side of a thin partition; Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford visible along the edges like constellations (not just stars personified) (and I want to thank Ms. Hambly for mentioning the Fatty Arbuckle scandal without an "As you know, Jane" moment); the scrub and coyotes surrounding new construction, and the sites used almost exclusively by film crews – it all adds up to a milieu as alien and yet clearly envisaged as Darwath.
Of course, what Barbara Hambly does best is vivid metaphor and simile. Only Robin McKinley holds a candle to her in my experience.
…"The music had ceased. Alex walked over to the gramophone, wound it up again, and put on more blues, a woman singing this time, gay and sad at once, like a stranded angel who had traded holiness for humanity but remembered what it used to be like to know God." (I want to know who she was thinking of when she wrote that. And then I want to go straight to iTunes.)
…"a rolling fur ball like three wigs fighting, rufous, ivory, and black"…
…"a feathered slipper lay like a killed bird in the middle of the floor"…
… "the Laocöon of sequins and tweed" …
(I cited that one in the original review as well, because – come on. The Laocöon. Seriously. Who does that?)
What Barbara Hambly does best is, simply, writing. The changes in how Christine's co-star Blake Fallon are described are extremely significant yet subtle, extremely creepy when you know what's going on. The vital element of the necklace is introduced on the very first page, and carefully, masterfully inserted into the narrative flow so that the reader is aware of it without necessarily even realizing it; it is tied in with the Pekes and even the incongruous house, and overall builds a solid foundation for a wild story. Back story and explanation is worked through the narrative seamlessly – everything the reader needs is there, when it's needed, apparently (though certainly not literally) effortlessly.
The wilder elements of the story – scoffed at by minor characters overhearing the story – become part of the fight: Shang Ko knows his race and that story are against him, but he has to try anyway and do what he can despite the others' disbelief. Everything in his past has led up to this fight, and he has no choice – and neither does Christine. And because she loves Christine, neither does Nora. And because he loves Nora, neither does Alex. In the end, this becomes a story about courage and pain – beyond the sheer bravery needed to fight the evil, there is Shang Ko's dogged indefatigability despite the damage he has suffered; the dogs' failure to recognize that they are more bite-sized than lion-sized; Norah's brittle courage in simply putting one foot in front of the other, and then in allowing herself to think about a future; Alex's patient silence about a painful past and willingness to let others remain silent about their own; the fragile, flamboyant shell over Christine's fundamental loneliness. It's a story about what love can do – not the way that usually comes off, the common run of twoo-wuv drivel, but all the varieties of love, which really does vincit omnia. And that really is what Barbara Hambly does best.
I do love this book.
We won't even get into what she does to my own writing and opinion thereof.
This is the first time I'm writing a second review of a book. I reread BofRG for pure pleasure over two years ago, and wrote a brief paean to it on my blog. I remembered a great deal for this reread, but it didn't impair my pure pleasure. The only thing that did that was a less-than-perfect Kindle edition, in which a couple of "th"'s transmuted into "m"'s and line breaks and skipped lines were erratic. (Conversations often took place in one paragraph without correct breaks to indicate new speakers.) And that's not enough to make me think about knocking off a star. (I'm getting used to cranky editions, sadly.) (One odd thing: the book description says "This ebook features an illustrated biography of Barbara Hambly, including rare photos and never-before-seen documents from the author’s personal collection." Not my copy…)
The book: Some few months ago, the great American silent film actress Chrysanda Flamande swooped in and rescued her brother's British widow Norah from a life of silent desperation. This was partly an action of generosity – Norah was in a genuinely bad place – but also an act born of self-centeredness: Chrysanda, known to everyone who knows her as Christine, wanted to buy some Pekingese and the breeder wasn't comfortable with her breezy plans for their care, and Norah would suit admirably as dog wrangler. "Everything Christine did was fifty percent show, but the other fifty percent, Norah reflected, was pure gold."
Change the percentages and the same could be applied to the book: maybe 2% pure show, in the presentation through the mad B-movie title and original paperback cover art, and the rest pure gold. (I don't much like the new cover; the necklace is utterly wrong. Opals, people – though the Open Road insignia does fit into the image rather neatly, whether it was intentional or not.) I said in my original review that this might well be my favorite book by Barbara Hambly – which is saying something – and I stand by that.
The evil is well-drawn – too well, perhaps, for peace of mind. It's what Barbara Hambly does best, that unique brand of dear-God-what-was-that-noise menace escalating to there's-no-way-we're-surviving-this danger. The malevolence her heroes strive against is big, and canny, and powerful – so powerful. And inescapable.
Characterization is extraordinary. What Barbara Hambly does best is the slightly gawky, socially awkward, quietly intelligent character. Here it's Norah, who is bemused by the Oz she has been lofted into by her whirlwind sister-in-law, and is thrown into a roil of emotions by unexpected love in the midst of even more unexpected Gothic danger. The pain of her past is heartbreakingly real, and even more heartbreaking when it is dragged into the present. That aforementioned whirlwind, Christine, could very easily (in other hands) have been a cliché of superficiality, all hair and makeup and frou-frou, a steel lily of a gold-digger. She shouldn't be a sympathetic character. But she is, deeply – she inspires devotion in her dogs and a string of men and millions of adoring fans, and in her sister-in-law, and in an elderly Chinese man trying to help her, and, in the end, in the reader. She's terrific. Charlie Sandringham doesn't have a huge role, but it is a very, very effective one, three-dimensional and believable. In fact, all of the "bit players" are very, very effective – I think I wrote the first time I blathered about this book that Barbara Hambly takes to heart what Joss Whedon said about Jayne, and in fact all characters: he is the hero of his own story. Any one of the characters mentioned in the pages of a book by Barbara Hambly could, had she the time and inclination, be expanded into his or her own adventure. (There's a fan-fic challenge…) Shang Ko is a worthy member of the guild of elderly wizards in Ms. Hambly's work, could certainly support several volumes on his life story alone. Alex is … Alex could well be the man of my dreams, but I think I've probably thought that about half of Ms. Hambly's male characters. When Norah asks him "What did he offer you?" the question goes unanswered, and the evasion hurts because his pain is obvious.
These are the people who need to win the fight, who almost don't realize there is a fight simply because they're realistically so busy with their lives, and Ms. Hambly always sets it up so that the reader wants to find a sword or spellbook or baseball bat and help them win – the sort of feeling you find in great young adult fiction, in a book for grown-ups. (The only reason I think I'd hesitate to say this was suitable for young adults would be the depth of evil in the Rat God, creepy as hell … but then again I have this fuddy-duddy feeling that teenagers these days are reading things that would have had me sleeping with six teddy bears and all the lights on, AND the dog.)
Oh, the dogs. I talked about them in my original review, but I have to do it again. Chang Ming, Buttercreme, and Black Jasmine, Christine's three Pekingese, are stronger characters without saying a single word than perhaps four-fifths of all the other characters in fiction. (Not a random number, that; I'm serious.) Ms. Hambly knows dogs, and she knows these dogs – Pekingese are different, and she knows, intimately, just how. She knows how walking more than one dog invariably means crossed leashes, and the politics of the supper dish. She knows how to show a very distinct personality for each dog without in any way anthropomorphizing them. (Deifying, maybe a little, but that's in keeping.) I never wanted a Peke until I read this book. Now I want one – and I want to adopt one with only one eye.
As far as Norah knew, Chang Ming would no more have tried to bite her than he'd have stolen a car.
What Barbara Hambly does best is description. The dogs are as unique as they are in part because she worked in wonderful word-pictures of them throughout the book. "That peculiarly businesslike Pekingese toddle, fur flouncing, as if to say Places to go. Things to do." I've seen Pekes in dog shows – that is perfect phrasing. I will remember the image of Alex's curly red hair and beard and glasses and humor, Christine's tousled black-haired gorgeousness and steel lily strength, Norah's height and wryness and brown-sugar hair long after I've forgotten most books' characters. Her mention of the Chinese gentleman's "bartered blue coat" uses a lovely economy of words to say everything necessary about that coat, and a good bit about the gentleman.
And her settings are superb, from the mundane:
Alex Mindelbaum removed his glasses and polished them with a paper napkin from the cheap tin holder at one end of the much-stained and cigarette-burned pine table.
(I don't know why that seems so perfect to me)
… to the sublimely ridiculous:
The house Frank Brown had bought for Christine was in the Spanish style, backed against the sharp rise of the hill and climbing up it, a minor fairy tale of pink-washed turrets, pocket-handkerchief terraces, and balconies no broader than a lace table runner. Among its Mediterranean arches and heavy, darkly carved beams the furniture looked wildly incongruous, a combination of modernist enameled sinuosity - purchased by Frank Brown - and a gaudy clutter of Chinese lamps, vases, lacquered Oriental cabinets that lent primitive splashes of cinnabar, gold, and blue to the smooth scheme of black and cream silk.
The setting is always sensual and alive and memorable. This is a glorious evocation of 1927 Hollywood, and it makes me want to go rent a Valentino movie. (What I really want to see is the movie they're making in the book: Kiss of Darkness, heaven help me.) The glamour of a Chrysanda Flamande shoot, with a slapstick comedy filming on the other side of a thin partition; Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford visible along the edges like constellations (not just stars personified) (and I want to thank Ms. Hambly for mentioning the Fatty Arbuckle scandal without an "As you know, Jane" moment); the scrub and coyotes surrounding new construction, and the sites used almost exclusively by film crews – it all adds up to a milieu as alien and yet clearly envisaged as Darwath.
Of course, what Barbara Hambly does best is vivid metaphor and simile. Only Robin McKinley holds a candle to her in my experience.
…"The music had ceased. Alex walked over to the gramophone, wound it up again, and put on more blues, a woman singing this time, gay and sad at once, like a stranded angel who had traded holiness for humanity but remembered what it used to be like to know God." (I want to know who she was thinking of when she wrote that. And then I want to go straight to iTunes.)
…"a rolling fur ball like three wigs fighting, rufous, ivory, and black"…
…"a feathered slipper lay like a killed bird in the middle of the floor"…
… "the Laocöon of sequins and tweed" …
(I cited that one in the original review as well, because – come on. The Laocöon. Seriously. Who does that?)
What Barbara Hambly does best is, simply, writing. The changes in how Christine's co-star Blake Fallon are described are extremely significant yet subtle, extremely creepy when you know what's going on. The vital element of the necklace is introduced on the very first page, and carefully, masterfully inserted into the narrative flow so that the reader is aware of it without necessarily even realizing it; it is tied in with the Pekes and even the incongruous house, and overall builds a solid foundation for a wild story. Back story and explanation is worked through the narrative seamlessly – everything the reader needs is there, when it's needed, apparently (though certainly not literally) effortlessly.
The wilder elements of the story – scoffed at by minor characters overhearing the story – become part of the fight: Shang Ko knows his race and that story are against him, but he has to try anyway and do what he can despite the others' disbelief. Everything in his past has led up to this fight, and he has no choice – and neither does Christine. And because she loves Christine, neither does Nora. And because he loves Nora, neither does Alex. In the end, this becomes a story about courage and pain – beyond the sheer bravery needed to fight the evil, there is Shang Ko's dogged indefatigability despite the damage he has suffered; the dogs' failure to recognize that they are more bite-sized than lion-sized; Norah's brittle courage in simply putting one foot in front of the other, and then in allowing herself to think about a future; Alex's patient silence about a painful past and willingness to let others remain silent about their own; the fragile, flamboyant shell over Christine's fundamental loneliness. It's a story about what love can do – not the way that usually comes off, the common run of twoo-wuv drivel, but all the varieties of love, which really does vincit omnia. And that really is what Barbara Hambly does best.
I do love this book.
October 5, 2023
Cries of warning –
it is auspicious to go somewhere ...
A warning of danger in the night ...
Dogs barking ...
The dogs are three delightful and temperamental Pekingese belonging to beautiful and popular movie star Chrysanda Flamande. Since the sultry diva hardly has the time to take care of her pets, or to organize her chaotic private life, always moving from long hours of filming to wild and drunken parties in the villas of movie moguls, Chrysanda [originally Christine] has invited her sister in law Norah Blackstone from England as her companion [and dog walker]
Norah, a young widow of the Great War, feels herself out of place in this glittering and mad world of Hollywood cca. 1923, wondering how she’d end up in this bright-colored Oz of palm trees, oil derricks, ersatz Spanish castles, and unlikely weather.
Yet, like many others strong women in Hambly’s fiction, Norah has learned to be self-reliant and resourceful, hiding her inner pain under a mask of competence and reliability.
These qualities will come in handy when her glamorous patron and friend Christine ends up in a fine mess of inexplicable murders, death threats, accidents on set and dubious messages from elderly Chinese gentlemen who appear to stalk her .
“Da Shu Ken, the Great Rat of the North, the Kara-Kudai, Bringer of plague, misfortune, and death. It is he who pursues you, who has been pursuing you since the fool moon of autumn, the season which is his. It is to him that you have been pledged as a bride.”
>>><<<>>><<<
Straight up horror joins hands here with Chinese mythology and with an insider view of silent movie making. Hambly, who worked among other things as a screenwriter, demonstrates that she knows her stuff and that she has done her research extremely well.
The setting is convincing, the people involved in the industry memorable, from the fat producer who dates his main star to the Hungarian director who dreams of bringing Kafka to the silver screen while filming yet another biblical super production; from the self-centered male lead to the older Shakespearean actor who likes young men, or the smart, poor and interesting cameraman.
Treading on a tiger’s tail
requires extreme caution ...
The historical details and the fast plot kept me invested in the story, but the best parts for me were the personalities of the two girls, Christine and Norah, and the way Hambly handles the romantic subplots, always with restraint, common sense and a healthy dose of humor.
Another plus is her use of language, flirting with the color purple, yet never turning cheap – except when the subject is Hollywood cheese.
Exhausted, the girl stumbled to a halt. Though clouds were gathering fast over the ebony sky, sufficient moonlight lingered to transform the low ground fog into a chill silver lake that dampened the dark silk of her dress and made it cling with the clammy grip of a spider’s web. Her black hair lay in a disheveled cloak about shoulders blanched chalky by the dead light. The blood on her hands showed black as well.
The one writer who comes close [or even better] at this sort of screwball comedy with a bit of slapstick and a lot of strength under the hood is Lois McMaster Bujold.
“... seizing the camel’s bridle, he sprang into the saddle with a single bound and reached down, drawing me up into his powerful arms ...”
“You ever tried to get on a camel, Chris?”
I picked this older novel for my summer holiday read list, in anticipation of two more recent Barbara Hambly novels that use a similar setting [ Scandal in Babylon, One Extra Corpse] and, since I was thoroughly entertained, I look forward to adding them soon, or even going back to another fantasy series that I started years ago [ Winterlands].
I might even reconsider my long held dislike of pocket sized dogs, given the passionate defense by the author of the Pekingese courage and determination. Hambly probably knows best, since she owned several of these miniature lions.
She could face danger, thought Norah, and the wild demands of make believe; she could face exhaustion and producers and any number of incomprehensible directors. She could face crazed fans and rough fate and the black Rat-God of eldritch legend. But she could not yet face love.
Perhaps, Norah thought, eventually the dogs would teach her that.
August 10, 2011
A nice urban fantasy novel set in Los Angeles in 1923, during the height of the silent film era, hence the hilarious title and movie poster cover. The story takes place during the filming of The She-Devil of Babylon, which is plagued by mishaps because the film's lovely star is being hunted by an ancient Chinese demon.
The blurb is misleading, because our protagonist is not the glamorous, good-natured "Chrysanda", who calls everyone Darling and lives on alcohol and cocaine, but rather her dowdy sister-in-law Norah, a WWI widow who left a miserable job in England to become the movie star's assistant.
The fantasy bits are less satisfying than watching the actors, the crew, the stuntmen and the producers as they wrestle with makeup, lights and cameras; ply each other with alcohol, drugs and sex; and manipulate the press and the police.
Hambly's writing is always good, even if her action scenes are a bit preposterous. I enjoyed the setting very much. There's a nicely subdued romance and a good bit of humor. I'm not a fan of Pekingese dogs, but I became fond of the pack of little Lion Dogs which are featured here.
The blurb is misleading, because our protagonist is not the glamorous, good-natured "Chrysanda", who calls everyone Darling and lives on alcohol and cocaine, but rather her dowdy sister-in-law Norah, a WWI widow who left a miserable job in England to become the movie star's assistant.
The fantasy bits are less satisfying than watching the actors, the crew, the stuntmen and the producers as they wrestle with makeup, lights and cameras; ply each other with alcohol, drugs and sex; and manipulate the press and the police.
Hambly's writing is always good, even if her action scenes are a bit preposterous. I enjoyed the setting very much. There's a nicely subdued romance and a good bit of humor. I'm not a fan of Pekingese dogs, but I became fond of the pack of little Lion Dogs which are featured here.
November 16, 2009
I'm re-reading this again for the fun of it...
1. I love this book because of the horrible title
2. I love it because of the awful Rat-God cover
3. I love it because its actually about Chinese Mythology (made-up or real, doesn't matter)
4. I love it because it takes place in the midst of early silent movie making
5. I love it because it has interesting characters with interesting backgrounds
6. I love it because it moves fast.
1. I love this book because of the horrible title
2. I love it because of the awful Rat-God cover
3. I love it because its actually about Chinese Mythology (made-up or real, doesn't matter)
4. I love it because it takes place in the midst of early silent movie making
5. I love it because it has interesting characters with interesting backgrounds
6. I love it because it moves fast.
May 4, 2022
On January 6, 1924 a fire broke out and destroyed most of the Pickering and Lick Piers, an amusement park complex jutting out over the Pacific Ocean at the point where the city of Santa Monica, California, adjoins the former city of Venice; the blow to that peculiar city's economy was so great that in the next year it became one more peculiar neighborhood in Los Angeles. The Pickering/Lick fire is the real anchor for a work of historical fiction by a gifted writer, Barbara Hambly, whose rich descriptions, studded with many creative turns of phrase, bring to vivid life the world of Hollywood and motion picture production from that era.
That's definitely what I liked the most about this oddly titled book. The meticulous treatment of neighborhoods in what is now an immense, solidly metropolitan area made me feel I was right there, 98 years ago when beanfields stretched far and wide between downtown and the little coastal cities. Hambly is careful to take us to a time when many of the famous landmarks from the 1920s had yet to be built--it's only 1923 for most of the story.
I felt I was being rewarded for reading at the same time as I wondered where the plot might be, particularly the supernatural element featured in the blurb, for example, the Rat God of the title. We meet at least fifteen well-portrayed actors and crew of a fictional motion picture, and I strongly recommend that readers make a list of their names and duties on the film--the author rather expects you to remember that sort of thing when one of these players drops out of sight and then is mentioned again fifty pages later. A simple list definitely increased my enjoyment!
The supernatural element isn't exactly missing in the first half or more of the book, because right on page six a mysterious, elderly Chinese gentleman turns up, with strong authorial hints that he's an important character. (His importance develops slowly, but it definitely gets there.) You do need the blurb, however, or at least the condensed version of it at the top of this Goodreads page, to know where this story must be going...eventually...
Both versions of the blurb are quite misleading in one respect: the main character isn't the movie star Chrysanda Flamande, usually called Christine; it's her British sister-in-law Norah, tragically widowed in World War I, whom Christine recently rescued from a life of penury as companion to a dreadful dowager in Manchester, England, and brought with her to Hollywood to tend her fabulous three Pekingese dogs. They are doubtless the brightest spots in the whole book, their personalities outshine most of the humans', and they turn up in scene after scene, so...who needs a plot anyway? Just relax and have fun, dear reader.
And your fun will be almost entirely from Norah's point of view as she interacts with all the movie people, gets to work on the movie set herself, and begins her transition from five years of grief to the birth of a new relationship, with Alec the cameraman. I thought their romance was developed masterfully, with great understanding of a young widow's feelings.
Occasionally there's an interesting sojourn in that elderly Chinese gentleman's mind, just enough to keep the back burner lit under the promised supernatural concoction. Mind you, the stuntman's murder has happened by page 28, and the story proceeds as if it were a historical novel with a little murder mystery appended to it, plus those mysterious overtones from the Chinese gentleman , until almost halfway through.
Then, abruptly, Norah has a horrible dream, and it's written in a way that suggests it's more than a dream. There's a sudden, drastic action scene, and further dream sequences thrust the Rat God to the fore, so that the novel becomes a very slowly developing horror story, almost a classical one, and at last we know what the stakes really are for the characters. Then the action goes full on (and the three little dogs, each with a unique personality, play a major role) as the four principal humans--Norah, Christine, Alec, and Shang Ko--deepen and grow before our eyes. Quite a writing feat to do major character growth in the middle of action and horror!
Recommended for patient readers who enjoy the 1920s, movie making, and demons.
That's definitely what I liked the most about this oddly titled book. The meticulous treatment of neighborhoods in what is now an immense, solidly metropolitan area made me feel I was right there, 98 years ago when beanfields stretched far and wide between downtown and the little coastal cities. Hambly is careful to take us to a time when many of the famous landmarks from the 1920s had yet to be built--it's only 1923 for most of the story.
I felt I was being rewarded for reading at the same time as I wondered where the plot might be, particularly the supernatural element featured in the blurb, for example, the Rat God of the title. We meet at least fifteen well-portrayed actors and crew of a fictional motion picture, and I strongly recommend that readers make a list of their names and duties on the film--the author rather expects you to remember that sort of thing when one of these players drops out of sight and then is mentioned again fifty pages later. A simple list definitely increased my enjoyment!
The supernatural element isn't exactly missing in the first half or more of the book, because right on page six a mysterious, elderly Chinese gentleman turns up, with strong authorial hints that he's an important character. (His importance develops slowly, but it definitely gets there.) You do need the blurb, however, or at least the condensed version of it at the top of this Goodreads page, to know where this story must be going...eventually...
Both versions of the blurb are quite misleading in one respect: the main character isn't the movie star Chrysanda Flamande, usually called Christine; it's her British sister-in-law Norah, tragically widowed in World War I, whom Christine recently rescued from a life of penury as companion to a dreadful dowager in Manchester, England, and brought with her to Hollywood to tend her fabulous three Pekingese dogs. They are doubtless the brightest spots in the whole book, their personalities outshine most of the humans', and they turn up in scene after scene, so...who needs a plot anyway? Just relax and have fun, dear reader.
And your fun will be almost entirely from Norah's point of view as she interacts with all the movie people, gets to work on the movie set herself, and begins her transition from five years of grief to the birth of a new relationship, with Alec the cameraman. I thought their romance was developed masterfully, with great understanding of a young widow's feelings.
Occasionally there's an interesting sojourn in that elderly Chinese gentleman's mind, just enough to keep the back burner lit under the promised supernatural concoction. Mind you, the stuntman's murder has happened by page 28, and the story proceeds as if it were a historical novel with a little murder mystery appended to it, plus those mysterious overtones from the Chinese gentleman , until almost halfway through.
Then, abruptly, Norah has a horrible dream, and it's written in a way that suggests it's more than a dream. There's a sudden, drastic action scene, and further dream sequences thrust the Rat God to the fore, so that the novel becomes a very slowly developing horror story, almost a classical one, and at last we know what the stakes really are for the characters. Then the action goes full on (and the three little dogs, each with a unique personality, play a major role) as the four principal humans--Norah, Christine, Alec, and Shang Ko--deepen and grow before our eyes. Quite a writing feat to do major character growth in the middle of action and horror!
Recommended for patient readers who enjoy the 1920s, movie making, and demons.
June 28, 2019
Totally brilliant. So so satisfying. Loved the intricate story, lush imaginative descriptions, MCs. And an "aw, lovely" ending.
Not going to attempt a full review, because Tracey's review says it all. So spend the time you would have spent reading my rave review buying the book?
Not going to attempt a full review, because Tracey's review says it all. So spend the time you would have spent reading my rave review buying the book?
Read
June 24, 2015Such a thoroughly enjoyable book.
The story follows Norah, a World War I widow, who has been rescued from drudgery to become an assistant to her dead husband's movie star sister, Christine. Her main job is to look after Christine's three Pekingese - all part of the star's fashionable interest in everything Chinese.
Unfortunately, this interest has included an ancient necklace with more than a few problematic conditions attached, and we follow Norah, Christine, and Norah's new friend Alec through shooting schedules, strangely gnawed foundations, murders, traps, attempted murders and desperate searches for solutions.
A book like this could fall into the crass and problematic, wandering dangerously toward cultural appropriation and exotification, but Hambly manages to avoid that, in my opinion, by taking Christine's period-true cultural appropriation and exotification and showing her how shallow an understanding of Chinese culture she has.
Christine is another strong point of the story. She is an unabashed hedonist who at first glance might seem to only have her beauty going for her. But she is kind, loyal, cynical about people and her position in the movie world and says things like: "You can only keep going so long on things like dope, and gin, and stuntmen with pretty eyelashes."
I hope she gets her naked dancing boys, eventually.
The romance in the book is one of the styles I appreciate: two people meeting, spending time with each other, and developing a slow, unhurried appreciation of each other.
The narrator of the audiobook was very good, though her Hungarian accent was terrible, and she was only marginal on the accents of the two main Chinese characters.
Oh, and the Pekes were fabulous.
The story follows Norah, a World War I widow, who has been rescued from drudgery to become an assistant to her dead husband's movie star sister, Christine. Her main job is to look after Christine's three Pekingese - all part of the star's fashionable interest in everything Chinese.
Unfortunately, this interest has included an ancient necklace with more than a few problematic conditions attached, and we follow Norah, Christine, and Norah's new friend Alec through shooting schedules, strangely gnawed foundations, murders, traps, attempted murders and desperate searches for solutions.
A book like this could fall into the crass and problematic, wandering dangerously toward cultural appropriation and exotification, but Hambly manages to avoid that, in my opinion, by taking Christine's period-true cultural appropriation and exotification and showing her how shallow an understanding of Chinese culture she has.
Christine is another strong point of the story. She is an unabashed hedonist who at first glance might seem to only have her beauty going for her. But she is kind, loyal, cynical about people and her position in the movie world and says things like: "You can only keep going so long on things like dope, and gin, and stuntmen with pretty eyelashes."
I hope she gets her naked dancing boys, eventually.
The romance in the book is one of the styles I appreciate: two people meeting, spending time with each other, and developing a slow, unhurried appreciation of each other.
The narrator of the audiobook was very good, though her Hungarian accent was terrible, and she was only marginal on the accents of the two main Chinese characters.
Oh, and the Pekes were fabulous.
February 20, 2015
I love this book. It should be an idiotic story, and I’d love to know if the title was Ms. Hambly’s idea or her publisher’s: it certainly does sound like a movie title, and one the starlet who is also the title character would star in, but it also makes the book sound like a B Movie, and the cover art … And it’s anything but B.
Christine, aka Chrysanda Flamande, is the sister-in-law of Norah, whose point of view dominates. Christine married her brother a while ago, and then after his death – and those of the rest of Norah’s family – rescued her from misery with an aunt in Britain to whisk her off to Hollywood. I suppose that outrageous as Hollywood is now, it had to be even more stunning in 1927, when this takes place. Christine is a very practical, very lovely gold-digger; she has a history of marrying wealthy older men, and is currently the paramour of her producer. She’s not a very good actress, but she’s a completely pragmatic about her lifestyle, and she’s a good person, a good friend to Norah despite driving her mad, and beloved of her three Pekingese.
Those three Pekingese are characters I will remember long after I’ve forgotten all about Face of the World: Black Jasmine, Buttercreme, and Changums – Chang Ming. Often a book that features animals anthropomorphosizes them annoyingly, or leaves the reader covered with goo, or otherwise is less than it should be. This made me want a Peke. They were characters in their own right, without being little humans in fur jackets – not like some of the cat-fancier murder mysteries I’ve read. They were gorgeously made real, from their rolling gait to their individual personalities. It was a joy.
And the people were pretty wonderful too. Barbara Hambly excels at (among many other things) making minor characters very nearly as well-limned as the major ones, without cluttering up the story. It reminds me of – iirc – Joss Whedon’s advice to Adam Baldwin on playing Jayne: he thinks he’s the hero of the whole gorram story. Many of the bit players on Ms. Hambly’s stage give that impression: they’re living their own stories, which just so happen to intersect with the one you’re reading. And I loved the major characters. Norah is a damaged, hurting girl who finds in Hollywood and her sister-in-law’s home the curious blend of cynicism and wonder that is so uniquely Hollywood… And she finds Alec, one of the studio’s cameramen, who quietly makes himself indispensible.
And the writing. There is, sadly, not nearly enough writing at this level in the world. This could have been a throwaway novel, a light and fluffy nothing. It could have been simply dreadful. Instead it hit all kinds of chords, presented real characters and real menace to them, and for the love of heaven she referenced the Laocoön in a metaphor. Who *does* that?
Christine, aka Chrysanda Flamande, is the sister-in-law of Norah, whose point of view dominates. Christine married her brother a while ago, and then after his death – and those of the rest of Norah’s family – rescued her from misery with an aunt in Britain to whisk her off to Hollywood. I suppose that outrageous as Hollywood is now, it had to be even more stunning in 1927, when this takes place. Christine is a very practical, very lovely gold-digger; she has a history of marrying wealthy older men, and is currently the paramour of her producer. She’s not a very good actress, but she’s a completely pragmatic about her lifestyle, and she’s a good person, a good friend to Norah despite driving her mad, and beloved of her three Pekingese.
Those three Pekingese are characters I will remember long after I’ve forgotten all about Face of the World: Black Jasmine, Buttercreme, and Changums – Chang Ming. Often a book that features animals anthropomorphosizes them annoyingly, or leaves the reader covered with goo, or otherwise is less than it should be. This made me want a Peke. They were characters in their own right, without being little humans in fur jackets – not like some of the cat-fancier murder mysteries I’ve read. They were gorgeously made real, from their rolling gait to their individual personalities. It was a joy.
And the people were pretty wonderful too. Barbara Hambly excels at (among many other things) making minor characters very nearly as well-limned as the major ones, without cluttering up the story. It reminds me of – iirc – Joss Whedon’s advice to Adam Baldwin on playing Jayne: he thinks he’s the hero of the whole gorram story. Many of the bit players on Ms. Hambly’s stage give that impression: they’re living their own stories, which just so happen to intersect with the one you’re reading. And I loved the major characters. Norah is a damaged, hurting girl who finds in Hollywood and her sister-in-law’s home the curious blend of cynicism and wonder that is so uniquely Hollywood… And she finds Alec, one of the studio’s cameramen, who quietly makes himself indispensible.
And the writing. There is, sadly, not nearly enough writing at this level in the world. This could have been a throwaway novel, a light and fluffy nothing. It could have been simply dreadful. Instead it hit all kinds of chords, presented real characters and real menace to them, and for the love of heaven she referenced the Laocoön in a metaphor. Who *does* that?
September 20, 2021
3.5 stars
The pulpy cover belies a thoughtfully written pastiche of suspense and mild horror, with a smattering of romance. The writing was really good and managed to hold my attention even though this particular genre isn't my favourite, and despite the fact that I have negligible interest in Hollywood.
I decided to pick this up after reading Carol's excellent review, and I was impressed by the prose. Fans of the genre can add an extra star. I'll be trying out more books by this author.
The pulpy cover belies a thoughtfully written pastiche of suspense and mild horror, with a smattering of romance. The writing was really good and managed to hold my attention even though this particular genre isn't my favourite, and despite the fact that I have negligible interest in Hollywood.
I decided to pick this up after reading Carol's excellent review, and I was impressed by the prose. Fans of the genre can add an extra star. I'll be trying out more books by this author.
July 6, 2008
This is fun, a 1920s Hollywood set fantasy novels, with a bookish heroine, demon fighting pekingese dogs. Not a great book, but a lot of fun and the setting and details had a lot of charm.
April 4, 2011
This is an ebook reread of an old favorite, one I've read many times and will probably read many more. Appropriately enough for a novel about movies, there's something very cinematic about Bride of the Rat God--more so than the rest of Hambly's novels--and it captures well the spirit of the era as well as the somewhat innocent, sweetly charming banter and romance one thinks of when you think of "classic" cinema. I also think it's one of Hambly's funniest books, down to the hijinks of the Pekingese stealing scenes from their human counterparts. With most of Hambly's books, I think they're my favorite in the moment--and I have yet to see her put out a book that I didn't like--but if asked, I feel fairly certain that Bride of the Rat God is my true favorite and always a delight.
November 19, 2018
Може би не трябваше да подхващам творчеството и точчно с тази книга. Тук историкът е взел превес над романиста и голяма част от повествованието засяга Холивуд от ерата на нямото кино. Битието на второстепенните киновеличия е засегнато с интригуващи подробности, но е тема която слабо ме интересува. Подробно са описани отношенията в занаята, трудът на хората заети в него, яденето, пиенето, шмъркането и прочие. Това дълбоко внимание към детайла доста добре помага на последната четвърт на книгата, където са разгърнати манджурското проклятие и древният демон с който е свързано, както и Чайнатаун в Лос Анджелис, но не помага за „пълнежа” в първите ¾. Кратката книжка доволно ме измъчи, но ако се интересувате от нямото кино, без дълбоката меланхолия в произведенията на Бредбъри, това е вашата книга.
И да добавя, че има цели три симпатични пекинеза, които правят историята. Имах някога такава гад и съм дълбоко привързан към породата, както явно и самата Барбара.
Нора е силна, овдовяла жена, която работи като камериерка за сестрата на починалия си съпруг. Самата сестра – Клисандра, е второстепенна холивудска актриса, снимаща предимно филми на ужасите. На две от площадките се налага да носи стара китайска огърлица, която е обвързана с манджурско проклятие. Това пуска по петите и китайски демон, жадуващ кръвта и. С помощта на един китайски магьосник, един смел оператор и три симпатични кучета, Нора ще направи всичко възможно да спаси зълва си от ноктестите лапи на Бога-плъх.
И да добавя, че има цели три симпатични пекинеза, които правят историята. Имах някога такава гад и съм дълбоко привързан към породата, както явно и самата Барбара.
Нора е силна, овдовяла жена, която работи като камериерка за сестрата на починалия си съпруг. Самата сестра – Клисандра, е второстепенна холивудска актриса, снимаща предимно филми на ужасите. На две от площадките се налага да носи стара китайска огърлица, която е обвързана с манджурско проклятие. Това пуска по петите и китайски демон, жадуващ кръвта и. С помощта на един китайски магьосник, един смел оператор и три симпатични кучета, Нора ще направи всичко възможно да спаси зълва си от ноктестите лапи на Бога-плъх.
October 26, 2012
When I finished reading Bride of the Rat God the first time, I reopened it at the beginning and started reading it again. Yes, I loved it that much.
The blurb makes me think that Hambly's publisher really didn't quite know how to market this book, but then again, one of the things I like about Hambly's characters is that they are very much themselves and not easily reducible to blurbs. The main viewpoint character is not Chrysandre Flamande, star of the silent screen, but her widowed sister-in-law Norah Blackstone. Norah is a practical and quietly wry bluestocking from a proper Edwardian family in London; Chris has brought her to Los Angeles partly to take care of Chang Ming, Buttercreme, and Black Jasmine, her new Pekingnese dogs, and partly because Norah has been swamped by her losses and Chris is kinder than she appears. One of the nicest things about this book is watching Norah's friendship with Alec Mindlebaum, the cameraman for Chris's movies, progress. Chris's stuntman from her last movie dies under strange circumstances that Norah, Chris, and Alec slowly realize have to do with Chris's necklace and its ties to the Rat God.
I liked so many things about this book: the picture of 1920s Los Angeles and the early years of moviemaking, Norah's sense of humor as gently applied to same, the way Norah and Chris take care of each other, the way Alec and Norah interact. Oh, and the dogs! The dogs are wonderful and important, and you could not possibly mistake one of them for either of the others, because they are such distinct characters in their own right.
The blurb makes me think that Hambly's publisher really didn't quite know how to market this book, but then again, one of the things I like about Hambly's characters is that they are very much themselves and not easily reducible to blurbs. The main viewpoint character is not Chrysandre Flamande, star of the silent screen, but her widowed sister-in-law Norah Blackstone. Norah is a practical and quietly wry bluestocking from a proper Edwardian family in London; Chris has brought her to Los Angeles partly to take care of Chang Ming, Buttercreme, and Black Jasmine, her new Pekingnese dogs, and partly because Norah has been swamped by her losses and Chris is kinder than she appears. One of the nicest things about this book is watching Norah's friendship with Alec Mindlebaum, the cameraman for Chris's movies, progress. Chris's stuntman from her last movie dies under strange circumstances that Norah, Chris, and Alec slowly realize have to do with Chris's necklace and its ties to the Rat God.
I liked so many things about this book: the picture of 1920s Los Angeles and the early years of moviemaking, Norah's sense of humor as gently applied to same, the way Norah and Chris take care of each other, the way Alec and Norah interact. Oh, and the dogs! The dogs are wonderful and important, and you could not possibly mistake one of them for either of the others, because they are such distinct characters in their own right.
January 27, 2017
I enjoyed this a lot.
August 25, 2022
This book has a great setting, 1920s Hollywood, and just the type of glitz and glam you would expect for the time. You've got a murder mystery that really amps up in action midway. Pretty consistent pacing, fun story, colorful characters. Recommend for reader who want a murder mystery with some supernatural elements that love a 1920s Hollywood setting. Must read for lovers of the Pekingese breed of dog!
June 26, 2017
I know Barbara Hambly gets a lot of grief from some quarters for her Star Wars Expanded Universe novels (which it's doubtful I'll read), but my experience with her places her in the front ranks of my favorite fantasy writers. Her prose is vivid, insightful, and empathetic, and while I may take my time with a Hambly novel, I've always found that time to be well spent. Every time I start to doubt her, she proves that doubt to have been foolish indeed.
Take, for instance, the character of Shang Ko, the Shining Crane. When he first showed up, I suspected him of being a "yellow devil" villain along the lines of the malevolent illusionist Chang in the 1978 Doctor Who episode "The Talons of Weng-Chiang." Yet bit by bit, scene by scene, Hambly broke this assessment down, so that by the end of the novel he has emerged as the big d*mn hero whose customs and beliefs are depicted with understanding and sympathy. A part of me suspects this is Hambly's very intention -- to show us the character in a suspicious "Orientalist" light, only to break that image apart piece by piece. Well done, Ms. Hambly. Forgive me for doubting.
In addition to the strong and involving prose, the other aspects I loved about Hambly's writing in The Ladies of Mandrigyn et. seq. and Stranger at the Wedding are in evidence here: active and complex female characters, and strong emotional bonds between said characters (with one protecting the other). Some readers might be disappointed that Norah, not the charismatic and devil-may-care Christine, is the book's protagonist (the cover is completely misleading on that point), but the story would only really work with an outsider, a "Dorothy in Oz" as Norah herself often thinks, as the point-of-view figure. Norah may not be as flashy as Christine, but Hambly develops her strength through quiet, careful strokes. I love that she becomes a Hollywood screenwriter at the end. Christine herself proves tougher and less shallow than she first appears, as she remains loyal to Shang when nearly everyone around her is urging her to think the worst of him. These two are the book's big draws for me, but the 1920s Hollywood setting is another, since classic cinema from the silent era through the fifties has always fascinated and delighted me. This world is painted in deft detail, with Hambly's fictional characters mingling, when appropriate, with real-life personalities of the time. (Love the bit when Alec, the fictional cameraman, is introduced to Billy Bitzer, cameraman for D.W. Griffith.)
And then there are the dogs. Those adorable dogs. If you're a dog person, particularly a little-dog person, this book is for you.
Take, for instance, the character of Shang Ko, the Shining Crane. When he first showed up, I suspected him of being a "yellow devil" villain along the lines of the malevolent illusionist Chang in the 1978 Doctor Who episode "The Talons of Weng-Chiang." Yet bit by bit, scene by scene, Hambly broke this assessment down, so that by the end of the novel he has emerged as the big d*mn hero whose customs and beliefs are depicted with understanding and sympathy. A part of me suspects this is Hambly's very intention -- to show us the character in a suspicious "Orientalist" light, only to break that image apart piece by piece. Well done, Ms. Hambly. Forgive me for doubting.
In addition to the strong and involving prose, the other aspects I loved about Hambly's writing in The Ladies of Mandrigyn et. seq. and Stranger at the Wedding are in evidence here: active and complex female characters, and strong emotional bonds between said characters (with one protecting the other). Some readers might be disappointed that Norah, not the charismatic and devil-may-care Christine, is the book's protagonist (the cover is completely misleading on that point), but the story would only really work with an outsider, a "Dorothy in Oz" as Norah herself often thinks, as the point-of-view figure. Norah may not be as flashy as Christine, but Hambly develops her strength through quiet, careful strokes. I love that she becomes a Hollywood screenwriter at the end. Christine herself proves tougher and less shallow than she first appears, as she remains loyal to Shang when nearly everyone around her is urging her to think the worst of him. These two are the book's big draws for me, but the 1920s Hollywood setting is another, since classic cinema from the silent era through the fifties has always fascinated and delighted me. This world is painted in deft detail, with Hambly's fictional characters mingling, when appropriate, with real-life personalities of the time. (Love the bit when Alec, the fictional cameraman, is introduced to Billy Bitzer, cameraman for D.W. Griffith.)
And then there are the dogs. Those adorable dogs. If you're a dog person, particularly a little-dog person, this book is for you.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 13, 2020
Just like below, I pulled this out for comfort reading, though I seem that before it was for a loss of power. Now, of course, it is for a pandemic. Though there is really no "of course" for a pandemic ... at least there hasn't been before. Hopefully this is a one time thing in my lifetime. But those are questions I don't have to think about when I'm fighting the Rat God with our heroes.
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Rereading this for the umpteenth time. I know it is an odd book for "comfort reading" but there you go. No power for our third day and I pull out Bride of the Rat God.
This is one of those guilty pleasures that is totally legitimate but would make me blush if anyone caught me reading it in public.
The title alone is bad enough. Repeating the plot doesn't redeem it much: an ancient cursed necklace worn by a 1923 Hollywood movie star condemns her to death by a demon (the Rat God itself). She must deal with this and much more ... explosions, cryptic omens, people who refuse to die even when their skulls are cracked open, and a mysterious Chinese wizard.
This combines the hokiest elements of an old Hollywood movie with the great writing and characterizations that Barbara Hambly is known for. The characters are clever enough to know the story they are living is totally unrealistic but realize that doesn't matter much when being stalked by a giant rat-demon.
This is the kind of light reading that is perfect for the beach or just to forget a hard day at the office, which is why I pick it up time and again. Hambly has written many other great books but they don't hit that "guilty pleasure" meter by virtue of being set in parallel universes. You might not take this out of the house but you will thoroughly forget where you are and enjoy every second spent with Chrysande Flamande eluding the Rat-God.
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Rereading this for the umpteenth time. I know it is an odd book for "comfort reading" but there you go. No power for our third day and I pull out Bride of the Rat God.
This is one of those guilty pleasures that is totally legitimate but would make me blush if anyone caught me reading it in public.
The title alone is bad enough. Repeating the plot doesn't redeem it much: an ancient cursed necklace worn by a 1923 Hollywood movie star condemns her to death by a demon (the Rat God itself). She must deal with this and much more ... explosions, cryptic omens, people who refuse to die even when their skulls are cracked open, and a mysterious Chinese wizard.
This combines the hokiest elements of an old Hollywood movie with the great writing and characterizations that Barbara Hambly is known for. The characters are clever enough to know the story they are living is totally unrealistic but realize that doesn't matter much when being stalked by a giant rat-demon.
This is the kind of light reading that is perfect for the beach or just to forget a hard day at the office, which is why I pick it up time and again. Hambly has written many other great books but they don't hit that "guilty pleasure" meter by virtue of being set in parallel universes. You might not take this out of the house but you will thoroughly forget where you are and enjoy every second spent with Chrysande Flamande eluding the Rat-God.
Read
June 18, 2019Down-to-earth widow Norah works as the chaperone to her glamorous, silent film star sister-in-law. Mostly this entails looking after Christine's trio of Pekes and ensuring Christine arrives places on time, but when Christine's stunt double is the victim of a violent murder on a night when Norah experiences some creepy horror herself, surreal Hollywood gets even stranger.
The 1923 Hollywood setting had me swooning; I pretty much ate up every detail about film-making, about the brutal lifestyle, about the power struggles, about the personalities. The characters, even the minor ones, were vibrant presences, easy to remember who was who without needless caricatures.
The tone/genre of the book enthralled me as well. The horror is slowly, elegantly revealed; not just the supernatural horror driving the book's plot, but the very human horror in Norah's backstory, and the very human horrors of doubts and insecurities that keep Christine up at night. It's a mixture of subtlety and over-the-top craziness that really worked for me.
I wasn't really wild about the MYSTERIOUS EXOTIC CHINESE MYSTERY RAT GOD angle. There was depth depicted to Chinese-American culture, and there was narrative acknowledgement of whites appropriating and misinterpreting that culture in awful ways, and acknowledgement of whites treating Chinese-Americans awfully, and the white protagonists of the book all treated the prominent Chinese characters as people. Which was ALL GOOD. But I wasn't completely at ease with the mythology being used and exoticized, even if the narrative was generally lucid and thoughtful about what it was doing.
Also, for fellow dog lovers, the dogs in this book are awesome and awesome characters with dog personalities and come out safe at the book's ending.
The 1923 Hollywood setting had me swooning; I pretty much ate up every detail about film-making, about the brutal lifestyle, about the power struggles, about the personalities. The characters, even the minor ones, were vibrant presences, easy to remember who was who without needless caricatures.
The tone/genre of the book enthralled me as well. The horror is slowly, elegantly revealed; not just the supernatural horror driving the book's plot, but the very human horror in Norah's backstory, and the very human horrors of doubts and insecurities that keep Christine up at night. It's a mixture of subtlety and over-the-top craziness that really worked for me.
I wasn't really wild about the MYSTERIOUS EXOTIC CHINESE MYSTERY RAT GOD angle. There was depth depicted to Chinese-American culture, and there was narrative acknowledgement of whites appropriating and misinterpreting that culture in awful ways, and acknowledgement of whites treating Chinese-Americans awfully, and the white protagonists of the book all treated the prominent Chinese characters as people. Which was ALL GOOD. But I wasn't completely at ease with the mythology being used and exoticized, even if the narrative was generally lucid and thoughtful about what it was doing.
Also, for fellow dog lovers, the dogs in this book are awesome and awesome characters with dog personalities and come out safe at the book's ending.
May 28, 2025
Can't believe it took me so long to read this one: it is a DELIGHT! Hambly's signature exquisite, sensual prose and smart women being excellent are on full display, but with bonus RIDICULOUSLY FUN AND ADORABLE demon-hunting Pekengese dogs!!! Instant favourite!
Read
December 6, 20233 and a half stars. Barbara Hambly is an excellent writer who has written better books, but clearly this one must have been written as a fun vacation for her, between all the backgrounding of old Silent Film Hollywood, the garish and pulpy tone suitable for the goings-on of its Hollywood Babylon world, amid the layered plot surrounding a Chinatown occult horror that must be isolated and stopped. i read it for fun, and it worked for me.
November 17, 2020
Love, love this book. This was an audiobook re-read. 1920s LA, a British heroine, early movie sets and parties. The I Ching, mysterious goings on, Chinatown, Hollywood, desert movie making, a Chinese rat god come for his bride. Just yum. Set just before Christmas.
April 25, 2012
I’ve always loved history especially since I grew up in Los Angeles, California, an area filled with it. So, when I read the summary for “Bride of the Rat God” and discovered that the setting was the early silent movie age in Hollywood, I was fascinated. Additionally, the book has a paranormal twist centering on Chinese mythology; so, what’s not to love, right? Well, the problem is in the writing I’m afraid. Sometimes, the best approach when attempting to tell a story is the direct one. This book had such massive potential but it all was lost in the vagueness and flourishes of the writing.
Chrysanda (Christine) Flamande is a rising star in the silent films of the 1920’s. She is also kindhearted by taking in Norah, the British widow of her brother killed in the First World War. Norah serves as the dog walker and assistant for Chris. Like most starlets of the time, Chris is having an affair with Frank Brown, mogul of the production company. Frank is well aware of Christine’s love of anything Chinese and gifts her with a necklace reported to have been stolen from The Forbidden City. Chris loves this gift and wears it in her films and at gala events. Little does she know that this necklace will be the cause her to be the unwilling bride to a demon of Manchuria.
While Christine is filming her new movie, “She Devil of Babylon” gentle, plain, Norah is slowly getting to know the cameraman, Alec Mindelbaum and discovering disturbing information about murders and Chinese/Manchurian myths. Along with the three Pekinese watchdogs, will she be able to stay alive and keep her sister-in-law safe as well? You will have to read the book to discover the answers to these questions. Quite frankly, this is the best part!
Although I enjoyed the characters including the self-centered drug using Hollywood actors; the book was somewhat of a tedious read for me. Unfortunately, I believe this book will only appeal to a specific audience, one that has the background knowledge for the references the author throws out, but does not always explain. For example, ‘VADS’ is mentioned; but nowhere is the acronym explained. I went on the internet to discover that is stands for the 1909 Voluntary Aid Detachment unit consisting of women who helped out during the war. Fatty is mentioned (referring to Fatty Arbuckle) but no real background knowledge is provided. It just so happens that I am slightly aware of the comedian’s scandal and trial after the death of a starlet. However, it was truly before my time. There are many other references, names and acronyms referred to without providing the reader with any information and I found it frustrating. I am still trying to figure out who ‘that poor boy trapped in the rose-pink walls of Peking’ is; although, I suspect that it refers to the child emperor of China. In the end, I enjoyed the premise of the book better than its’ execution.
Chrysanda (Christine) Flamande is a rising star in the silent films of the 1920’s. She is also kindhearted by taking in Norah, the British widow of her brother killed in the First World War. Norah serves as the dog walker and assistant for Chris. Like most starlets of the time, Chris is having an affair with Frank Brown, mogul of the production company. Frank is well aware of Christine’s love of anything Chinese and gifts her with a necklace reported to have been stolen from The Forbidden City. Chris loves this gift and wears it in her films and at gala events. Little does she know that this necklace will be the cause her to be the unwilling bride to a demon of Manchuria.
While Christine is filming her new movie, “She Devil of Babylon” gentle, plain, Norah is slowly getting to know the cameraman, Alec Mindelbaum and discovering disturbing information about murders and Chinese/Manchurian myths. Along with the three Pekinese watchdogs, will she be able to stay alive and keep her sister-in-law safe as well? You will have to read the book to discover the answers to these questions. Quite frankly, this is the best part!
Although I enjoyed the characters including the self-centered drug using Hollywood actors; the book was somewhat of a tedious read for me. Unfortunately, I believe this book will only appeal to a specific audience, one that has the background knowledge for the references the author throws out, but does not always explain. For example, ‘VADS’ is mentioned; but nowhere is the acronym explained. I went on the internet to discover that is stands for the 1909 Voluntary Aid Detachment unit consisting of women who helped out during the war. Fatty is mentioned (referring to Fatty Arbuckle) but no real background knowledge is provided. It just so happens that I am slightly aware of the comedian’s scandal and trial after the death of a starlet. However, it was truly before my time. There are many other references, names and acronyms referred to without providing the reader with any information and I found it frustrating. I am still trying to figure out who ‘that poor boy trapped in the rose-pink walls of Peking’ is; although, I suspect that it refers to the child emperor of China. In the end, I enjoyed the premise of the book better than its’ execution.
January 3, 2016
BRIDE OF THE RAT GOD is a marvelous historical novel (with an element of fantasy to it) that belies its kitschy title.
The title makes the story, of course, because it is, in fact, about a silent film star who gets caught in a sorcerous web of complications involving a sacred Chinese heirloom, a jealous demon-god who wants her soul, and his attempted sacrifice of her on the altar of his own ancient desire.
Sounds kind of melodramatic and silly, eh?
Not so much. Barbara Hambly has a deft touch with deep and well articulated characters, and she adds layers of experience and reality to her characters as she goes. The marvelously well written landscape of 1920s Hollywood is also meticulously researched and is perfectly portrayed, with an eye to both technical and emotional detail that is all too often lacking in historical novels.
The fantastical / supernatural elements of the novel merely add a rapidly accelerating plot to a novel that's already a strong and well-written story of two women whose lives have become enmeshed in the silliness and wild party that is Hollywood (circa 1920s.... probably worse now).
I'll be reading more Hambly, because she made me believe in her characters, their desperate situation and their history.
My only nit to pick was that the final confrontation was not powerful enough -- it didn't knock my socks off. But I really cared about the characters, and I really believed in the story, which is enough to out-last any slowness to the final denouement.
The title makes the story, of course, because it is, in fact, about a silent film star who gets caught in a sorcerous web of complications involving a sacred Chinese heirloom, a jealous demon-god who wants her soul, and his attempted sacrifice of her on the altar of his own ancient desire.
Sounds kind of melodramatic and silly, eh?
Not so much. Barbara Hambly has a deft touch with deep and well articulated characters, and she adds layers of experience and reality to her characters as she goes. The marvelously well written landscape of 1920s Hollywood is also meticulously researched and is perfectly portrayed, with an eye to both technical and emotional detail that is all too often lacking in historical novels.
The fantastical / supernatural elements of the novel merely add a rapidly accelerating plot to a novel that's already a strong and well-written story of two women whose lives have become enmeshed in the silliness and wild party that is Hollywood (circa 1920s.... probably worse now).
I'll be reading more Hambly, because she made me believe in her characters, their desperate situation and their history.
My only nit to pick was that the final confrontation was not powerful enough -- it didn't knock my socks off. But I really cared about the characters, and I really believed in the story, which is enough to out-last any slowness to the final denouement.
August 16, 2014
Totally fun book that's exactly what it means to be. Norah, an English widow who lost her husband in WWI, has come to Hollywood to live with her sister-in-law, a jazz baby silent movie star with little talent for acting on screen but larger than life off screen. Christine is mad for all things Chinese, including her three little Pekinese dogs and, unfortunately, an opal necklace that appears to be cursed. It appears to make her...dun dun dun...the bride of the rat god. Yes, that title is actually pretty straightforward and sets the tone for exactly what type of story this is.
So it's off to Chinatown to track down the old Chinese wizard--you get the drill. Barbara Hambly keeps herself balanced between the modern views of the reader (gay characters are treated sympathetically by the narrator and the characters), the 1923 outlook of the characters (they're not quite as politically correct as they would be today, though they're none of them probably as politically incorrect as they might have been) and the politically incorrect stereotypes in the kind of story she's celebrating. In the end I'd say she's successful at it so well done!
I find myself wanting to see Val Lewton adapt it to the screen...
So it's off to Chinatown to track down the old Chinese wizard--you get the drill. Barbara Hambly keeps herself balanced between the modern views of the reader (gay characters are treated sympathetically by the narrator and the characters), the 1923 outlook of the characters (they're not quite as politically correct as they would be today, though they're none of them probably as politically incorrect as they might have been) and the politically incorrect stereotypes in the kind of story she's celebrating. In the end I'd say she's successful at it so well done!
I find myself wanting to see Val Lewton adapt it to the screen...
January 31, 2022
This is the second book in the Silver Screen series. The book listings won't tell you that because they were published by different publishing companies, as if that makes any sense. The first book is Scandal in Babylon. It's only after rereading this book, which has been in my library for years, that I made the connection to the first book.
I enjoyed the look at the Hollywood of the silver screen. Many characters from the first book will be recognized. The first book in the series was a standard mystery. This is more mystical with a slight rearrangement of circumstances.
This plot resembles an old-time horror movie, which holds together well. It would make a great 30's movie.
It leaves the reader wanting to adopt Pomeranians who are lovingly described. (but be sure to go to a homeless pet shelter to get one.).
I enjoyed the look at the Hollywood of the silver screen. Many characters from the first book will be recognized. The first book in the series was a standard mystery. This is more mystical with a slight rearrangement of circumstances.
This plot resembles an old-time horror movie, which holds together well. It would make a great 30's movie.
It leaves the reader wanting to adopt Pomeranians who are lovingly described. (but be sure to go to a homeless pet shelter to get one.).
January 4, 2014
I love how Hambly can take the most lurid, pulpish, overdone premise and somehow, I've no idea how, turn that silly premise into a solid book!
Her characters are always so much deeper than you'd expect for a novel of that type.
Her characters are always so much deeper than you'd expect for a novel of that type.
March 29, 2009
This is a fun book. It actually made me look at pekingese dogs as something more than bedroom slippers.
December 14, 2013
I love Hambly in any circumstance and this cinematic horror novel set in 1920's Hollywood is a hoot.
January 10, 2021
An enjoyable semi-horror book set in '20s Hollywood. Hambly takes the tropes of the kind of old-fashioned pulp story suggested by the title and cover art -- a cursed piece of jewelry, a malevolent foreign deity -- and shifts everything just a bit to create a smart, taut, and well-written story. There's still a beautiful actress under threat, but the heroine is her sister-in-law; the love interest is a cameraman, not an actor; and they must help a Chinese wizard accomplish the final defeat of the Rat God (which turns out to be a demon used by the Manchu in their conquest of China). As always, Hambly is excellent at atmosphere and maintains suspense effortlessly (leavening it with just a bit of humor). She also does a good job with the non-supernatural aspects of the story, ensuring not just that they work but that they blend effectively with the supernatural ones. Unsurprisingly for someone with a Masters in history, she did her research on the period, and manages the trickier task of using that research to give realism to the setting without making it obvious that's what she's doing. And, of course, she draws the reader in with sympathetic characters who have depth, not just backstory. "Bride of the Rat God" is more evidence that Hambly is one of the most unfairly overlooked sci-fi/fantasy writers of the past few decades.
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