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Birdverse
The Unbalancing
New love blossoms between an impatient starkeeper and a reclusive poet as they try together to save their island home; a gorgeous tale of the inevitable transformations of communities and their worlds.
Beneath the waters by the islands of Gelle-Geu, a star sleeps restlessly. The celebrated new starkeeper Ranra Kekeri, who is preoccupied by the increasing tremors, confronts the problems left behind by her predecessor.
Meanwhile, the poet Erígra Lilún, who merely wants to be left alone, is repeatedly asked by their ancestor Semberí to take over the starkeeping helm. Semberí insists upon telling Lilún mysterious tales of the deliverance of the stars by the goddess Bird.
When Ranra and Lilún meet, sparks begin to fly. An unforeseen configuration of their magical deepnames illuminates the trouble under the tides. For Ranra and Lilún, their story is just beginning; for the people of Gelle-Geu, it may well be too late to save their home.
Beneath the waters by the islands of Gelle-Geu, a star sleeps restlessly. The celebrated new starkeeper Ranra Kekeri, who is preoccupied by the increasing tremors, confronts the problems left behind by her predecessor.
Meanwhile, the poet Erígra Lilún, who merely wants to be left alone, is repeatedly asked by their ancestor Semberí to take over the starkeeping helm. Semberí insists upon telling Lilún mysterious tales of the deliverance of the stars by the goddess Bird.
When Ranra and Lilún meet, sparks begin to fly. An unforeseen configuration of their magical deepnames illuminates the trouble under the tides. For Ranra and Lilún, their story is just beginning; for the people of Gelle-Geu, it may well be too late to save their home.
241 pages, Paperback
First published September 20, 2022
About the author
R.B. Lemberg
45 books242 followersR.B. Lemberg is a queer, bigender immigrant from Eastern Europe to the US. R.B.'s Birdverse novella The Four Profound Weaves (Tachyon, 2020) is a finalist for the Nebula, Ignyte, Locus, and World Fantasy awards, as well as an Otherwise Award honoree. R.B.'s poetry memoir Everything Thaws will be published by Ben Yehuda Press in 2022. Their stories and poems have appeared in Lightspeed Magazine’s Queers Destroy Science Fiction!, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, We Are Here: Best Queer Speculative Fiction 2020, Sisters of the Revolution: A Feminist Speculative Fiction
Anthology, and many other venues. You can find R.B. on Twitter at @rb_lemberg, on Patreon at http://patreon.com/rblemberg, and at their websites rblemberg.net and birdverse.net.
Anthology, and many other venues. You can find R.B. on Twitter at @rb_lemberg, on Patreon at http://patreon.com/rblemberg, and at their websites rblemberg.net and birdverse.net.
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July 29, 2021I was a first reader on this and really enjoyed it! The queer, trans Atlantis book I didn't know I needed. Ghosts! Magic! Giant magical constructs! Jewelry specifically for nonbinary people!
I must note my obvious conflict of interest - the author is my spouse.
______
Source of the book: Manuscript from the author
I must note my obvious conflict of interest - the author is my spouse.
______
Source of the book: Manuscript from the author
October 5, 2022
Wow, this was excellent! I was not familiar with Lemberg's previous work, but The Unbalancing is a beautiful queer fantasy novel set in a truly unique world- complete with a Bird goddess, and system of magic involving names, and a society with 5 formal variants of non-binary identities (in addition to male and female).
One of our main characters is a non-binary, neurodivergent introvert who writes beautiful poetry. The other main character is an extroverted, queer woman with a dominant presence. They live on an island protected by a star under water, but the star is in distress and dying- resulting in devastating earthquakes. There is a quest to heal the star and save the island, but things are difficult and interpersonal relationships are a piece of that. This book thoughtfully explores the dynamics of relationships (both romantic and platonic) between people who move through the world in very different ways. How that creates conflict and some possibilities for how it might be resolved. The lore of the world feels deep and interesting, I cared a lot about the characters, and I love how queer-norm this is. Definitely a hidden gem worth picking up! I received a copy of this book for review from the publisher, all opinions are my own.
One of our main characters is a non-binary, neurodivergent introvert who writes beautiful poetry. The other main character is an extroverted, queer woman with a dominant presence. They live on an island protected by a star under water, but the star is in distress and dying- resulting in devastating earthquakes. There is a quest to heal the star and save the island, but things are difficult and interpersonal relationships are a piece of that. This book thoughtfully explores the dynamics of relationships (both romantic and platonic) between people who move through the world in very different ways. How that creates conflict and some possibilities for how it might be resolved. The lore of the world feels deep and interesting, I cared a lot about the characters, and I love how queer-norm this is. Definitely a hidden gem worth picking up! I received a copy of this book for review from the publisher, all opinions are my own.
April 3, 2022
Huge thanks to the author, R. B. Lemberg, the publisher, Tachyon, and NetGalley for the advance reader copy of this book.
The short version of what may be a behemoth of a review: If you’re looking for lyrical prose, an action-packed magical fantasy reminiscent of the legend of Atlantis, protagonists that focus on the facets of trans identity and neurodivergence, found family, queer romance, emotive worldbuilding, an original magic system, ghosts, and a wholly unique voice in the speculative fiction landscape- this is THE book you need. If you’re looking for a traditional fantasy story that won’t rock the boat or make you think a lot- this might not be the book for you, but still try it just in case.
The Unbalancing impacted me in such a strong way that I feel nearly incapable of doing it justice in a review, but trust me when I say that this will be one of my most recommended novels of the year, and perhaps my favorite novel of 2022. I want to yell about it from the rooftops. I want to re-read it. I want my book club to read it, I want my pastor to read it, and I want every librarian in my state to read it and put it in their collections.
Lemberg dumps the reader into the universe of Birdverse with relatively little introduction, but I appreciate how some of the mythology and history of the culture is explained via oral history sharing between the characters in the novel. Although some reviewers have complained about the lack of visual descriptions of the setting or straightforward explanations for the universe the story is set in, I think Lemberg does an excellent job of providing us just enough information to follow the plot while keeping the novel moderately cerebral. If you’ve never read any of Lemberg’s Birdverse works, you should have no problem still following the plot of The Unbalancing. Personally, I think that the Birdverse setting is more approachable and easier to conceptualize in The Unbalancing, compared to another Birdverse novel, The Four Profound Weaves, especially for those of us who have not read Lemberg’s extensive number of other Birdverse works.
What stands out to me about The Unbalancing is the descriptions of the protagonists’ internal experiences throughout the novel. Rather than focusing all of their energy on the plot, Lemberg delves deep into the narrators’ identities, and you can truly see Lemberg’s own life experience shine through in the lyrical expositions of each protagonist’s story and the way their identities intersect. This is an Own Voices novel of genuinely astounding quality. I’m not sure if I’ve ever before felt such an intimate connection with a narrator.
The overall plot of The Unbalancing, of two people figuring out how to love and how to save their home and culture at the same time, was exciting and kept me seriously engaged. The couple of twists at the end- when we learn more about the star’s magic and creation, and how the protagonists act during what is effectively the apocalypse- answered many of the questions I had from earlier in the book.
In conclusion: Read this, as soon as possible, and then read it again.
The short version of what may be a behemoth of a review: If you’re looking for lyrical prose, an action-packed magical fantasy reminiscent of the legend of Atlantis, protagonists that focus on the facets of trans identity and neurodivergence, found family, queer romance, emotive worldbuilding, an original magic system, ghosts, and a wholly unique voice in the speculative fiction landscape- this is THE book you need. If you’re looking for a traditional fantasy story that won’t rock the boat or make you think a lot- this might not be the book for you, but still try it just in case.
The Unbalancing impacted me in such a strong way that I feel nearly incapable of doing it justice in a review, but trust me when I say that this will be one of my most recommended novels of the year, and perhaps my favorite novel of 2022. I want to yell about it from the rooftops. I want to re-read it. I want my book club to read it, I want my pastor to read it, and I want every librarian in my state to read it and put it in their collections.
Lemberg dumps the reader into the universe of Birdverse with relatively little introduction, but I appreciate how some of the mythology and history of the culture is explained via oral history sharing between the characters in the novel. Although some reviewers have complained about the lack of visual descriptions of the setting or straightforward explanations for the universe the story is set in, I think Lemberg does an excellent job of providing us just enough information to follow the plot while keeping the novel moderately cerebral. If you’ve never read any of Lemberg’s Birdverse works, you should have no problem still following the plot of The Unbalancing. Personally, I think that the Birdverse setting is more approachable and easier to conceptualize in The Unbalancing, compared to another Birdverse novel, The Four Profound Weaves, especially for those of us who have not read Lemberg’s extensive number of other Birdverse works.
What stands out to me about The Unbalancing is the descriptions of the protagonists’ internal experiences throughout the novel. Rather than focusing all of their energy on the plot, Lemberg delves deep into the narrators’ identities, and you can truly see Lemberg’s own life experience shine through in the lyrical expositions of each protagonist’s story and the way their identities intersect. This is an Own Voices novel of genuinely astounding quality. I’m not sure if I’ve ever before felt such an intimate connection with a narrator.
The overall plot of The Unbalancing, of two people figuring out how to love and how to save their home and culture at the same time, was exciting and kept me seriously engaged. The couple of twists at the end- when we learn more about the star’s magic and creation, and how the protagonists act during what is effectively the apocalypse- answered many of the questions I had from earlier in the book.
In conclusion: Read this, as soon as possible, and then read it again.
October 17, 2022
Thanks to the publisher (Tachyon Publications) for the ARC of this book.
Sometimes, you have to stop for a while and think a book over before you can review it and this was exactly the case here. I liked it, I was pretty sure – I read it in one sitting (or lying, as it were) after all – but it’s one of those books that give you a lot to think about. In either case, it made a great conclusion to the 2022 r/Fantasy Bingo.
The star of the Gelle-Geu islands is plagued by nightmares, causing earthquakes and threatening worse. The poet Erígra has a special connection with the star and is begged by the ghost of their ancestor Semberi to become starkeeper, but they’re not willing to take on the role with all the social obligations it involves and wondering if the star would consent to being woken up. The new starkeeper, Ranra, is more than willing to take on the position, but she might not be able.
The writing was a little clumsy at first, which surprised me – I don’t remember having any such issues with The Four Profound Weaves or any of the short stories I read. I did not understand why Erígra was so set on the question of whether the star would consent to being woken up, especially with so many people in danger. But I did, eventually, settle into the story. And there was a lot to like.
In many ways, this is a story about dealing with failure, especially failure to do what everyone expects of you, inability to do what everyone expects of you, which is a theme very close to my heart. I haven’t read Ranra’s Unbalancing, the poem The Unbalancing expands, until after (I wasn’t even aware there was a poem when I started), so I was a little surprised at the turn of the events, but the more I thought about it…it’s bold. I respect bold.
The other two big themes close to my heart it deals with are neurodivergence and gender. I don’t know why the society recognising five different kinds of ichidi (non-binary) was so mindblowing to me, but it was. Just one of those “oh…oh.” moments. And I loved having multiple neurodivergent characters. I loved the romance, I loved the communication and compromise between someone who is always “go go go” and someone who often has to stop and rest in order to not get too overwhelmed. And of course, I loved getting even more of an insight into the magic and the deepnames.
If you’re up for a short, dense, but still quick read with lots of queerness and neurodivergence and magic and people trying their best, very much recommended.
Enjoyment: 4.5/5
Execution: 4/5
Recommended to: those looking for stories with lots of queer and neurodivergent characters and shall we say, unusual endings
Not recommended to: those who don’t like dense books
Content warning: abuse (not prominently at all, but Ranra has an abusive mother)
More reviews on my blog, To Other Worlds.
Sometimes, you have to stop for a while and think a book over before you can review it and this was exactly the case here. I liked it, I was pretty sure – I read it in one sitting (or lying, as it were) after all – but it’s one of those books that give you a lot to think about. In either case, it made a great conclusion to the 2022 r/Fantasy Bingo.
The star of the Gelle-Geu islands is plagued by nightmares, causing earthquakes and threatening worse. The poet Erígra has a special connection with the star and is begged by the ghost of their ancestor Semberi to become starkeeper, but they’re not willing to take on the role with all the social obligations it involves and wondering if the star would consent to being woken up. The new starkeeper, Ranra, is more than willing to take on the position, but she might not be able.
The writing was a little clumsy at first, which surprised me – I don’t remember having any such issues with The Four Profound Weaves or any of the short stories I read. I did not understand why Erígra was so set on the question of whether the star would consent to being woken up, especially with so many people in danger. But I did, eventually, settle into the story. And there was a lot to like.
In many ways, this is a story about dealing with failure, especially failure to do what everyone expects of you, inability to do what everyone expects of you, which is a theme very close to my heart. I haven’t read Ranra’s Unbalancing, the poem The Unbalancing expands, until after (I wasn’t even aware there was a poem when I started), so I was a little surprised at the turn of the events, but the more I thought about it…it’s bold. I respect bold.
The other two big themes close to my heart it deals with are neurodivergence and gender. I don’t know why the society recognising five different kinds of ichidi (non-binary) was so mindblowing to me, but it was. Just one of those “oh…oh.” moments. And I loved having multiple neurodivergent characters. I loved the romance, I loved the communication and compromise between someone who is always “go go go” and someone who often has to stop and rest in order to not get too overwhelmed. And of course, I loved getting even more of an insight into the magic and the deepnames.
If you’re up for a short, dense, but still quick read with lots of queerness and neurodivergence and magic and people trying their best, very much recommended.
Enjoyment: 4.5/5
Execution: 4/5
Recommended to: those looking for stories with lots of queer and neurodivergent characters and shall we say, unusual endings
Not recommended to: those who don’t like dense books
Content warning: abuse (not prominently at all, but Ranra has an abusive mother)
More reviews on my blog, To Other Worlds.
April 14, 2022
We failed, but we did the work. – Erígra Lilún
There’s something about watching a disaster unfold. I am reminded of the movie Titantic and how, really, the plot was telegraphed long before the audience ever stepped into the theater. People knew that the boat would sink. That a great many people would die. With R.B. Lemberg’s The Unbalancing, there’s a striking similarity. Ever since “Ranra’s Unbalancing” was published at Strange Horizons, the shape of Ranra’s story has been known. Birdverse is a setting that has unfolded through poetry and prose for years now, each new story a part of a larger tapestry, but always one that’s been coherent and consistent. So the core history behind The Unbalancing, which finds Ranra Kekeri trying to save the Star of the Tides and her island home, isn’t unknown. That doesn’t mean, however, that any of the story’s power is lost in the telling. In fact, knowing the disaster is coming only makes the tension that much more acute.
From the start, the stakes of the piece are as high as they can be. And each decision from the characters, made with the best of reasons, comes with a sinking and cringing realization that it’s bringing everything that much closer to disaster. The characters all know something is wrong with the Star of the Tides, with the magical anchor that brings magical energy and prosperity to the islands. They know that the star might be dying. What they don’t know is when. Is how. And Lemberg captures that tragic art with beauty and power, casting a wide range of people trying their hardest to avoid catastrophe. It’s at turns inspiring and heartbreaking, tightly paced and full of romance, action, and a sweeping world building.
We gift all to each other. – Dorod Laagar
The islands themselves in which the story unfolds are vividly imagined and no less a character than the people who inhabit them. It’s a place of stunning and scenic beauty, but also artistic and cultural freedom. Here the world isn’t divided into strict binaries, and one of the foundations of the book and cornerstones of its plot has little to do with the Star of the Tides or its possible destruction. Rather, it’s about one of the viewpoint characters, Erígra Lilún, and their identity. They are someone for whom interacting with people has always been difficult. They operate at a different pace than most people prefer, and it leaves them struggling in certain areas, like how to present and conceptualize their gender. They know that they are ichidi, or non-binary, but there are variations within that which they have a hard time navigating. It takes time. And pondering. And poetry. But on the islands this isn’t really a problem. The culture is supportive and open, full of a vibrant spectrum of people and peoples.
Not that misunderstandings or frictions don’t happen. Even in a free and honest place, identity can be complex, sometimes fragile. Built over trauma and uncertainty. The characters in the story all generally get along and like each other, but that doesn’t stop them from hurting each other. Taking advantage of each other. Failing to communicate. There are difficult conversations throughout the novel and they are captured so well, ring so real…and so too does the fact that some of them happen too late. Because while in ideal circumstances, everyone could go at their own pace, everyone could get the care and attention they need, circumstances are rarely ideal. And the failures of the past have a way of compounding, making the present a dance on the edge of ruin.
That doesn’t mean people stop trying. Even small, personal victories can be profound. Transforming. Healing. And for Lilún that means finding their expression, finding a kind of peace with themself, and even when they very much cannot move at their own pace, it means finding a community that can still support them, that they want to be a part of, and that values and cares for them exactly as they are. It’s that sense of community and union that makes the islands such a vibrant place, and its possible loss so tragic, especially given how closed, oppressive, and authoritarian some of the rest of the world of Birdverse can be. And yet it’s also how, despite everything, the book manages to chart a course away from complete despair and loss, and toward a future made possible by the giving and generosity of many.
It is never the time for poetry, and it is always the time – Erígra Lilún
Even while the world seems to be exploding, the sky falling, the Star of the Tides dying, this is also a novel very much about new beginnings. About the sudden and intense relationship that the two viewpoint characters, Ranra Kekeri and Erígra Lilún, join into. Another something that moves very much faster than Lilún is comfortable with, but they consent all the same, embrace this frightening and new experience with all their being and heart. And their relationship unlocks new secrets, new power, that might indeed be able to save the islands, to soothe and heal the Star of the Tides…or destroy it even faster than it would have otherwise. Their love is poetry, as inappropriate and dangerous in this time of life and death as it is unavoidable and, for these characters, necessary.
I love the nuanced ways the characters talk about relationships, about consent, about the times when asking isn’t really possible, and what that means for everyone involved. These are messy characters, who live and breathe and strive and fall short. Who have been hurt and are afraid of being hurt again, or hurting others. Lilún hesitates, and Ranra rushes forward, and yet together they find a way to be patient, and to be decisive, in a way that seems to enrich them both. And the relationships span their network of friends and former lovers, their work partners and their families. I’ve always admired Birdverse for its open and complex ways of looking at power and love, and this novel is no exception. It’s romantic and blisteringly hot at times, playful and shy at others, and always inclusive and careful in how it recognizes and affirms all the ways people are themselves. Even as the world is falling apart. Especially as the world is falling apart.
I carry my world – Zúr ichidi variation saying
It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to write self-insert fanfic based on a book series, but here we are. Because part of what I love about Birdverse, about the world The Unbalancing reveals more of, is that there is space for queer joy, queer victories, queer defeats that are not death. There are dangers, and there is hatred, and there is loss and difficulty. But there is also power and expression and language and art. There are things to dive deep into, from deep name magical geometry to artistic representations of ichidi variations. And there is the rush of action, the danger and the effort of trying to keep the world from completely unraveling. There is revolution and change. And through it all people reaching for their own truths, and each other.
The Unbalancing is the latest glimpse into the great tapestry of Birdverse, and it’s inspiring and contemplative and hot and tense. It finds a group of queer nerds thrust into a place of power, tasked with the impossible, and faced with the legacy of loss, despair, and inaction. Through that, though, they find strength in each other to act, and to reach for an outcome that might not be victory, but which isn’t entirely defeat. It’s a beautiful and nuanced work about love, power, and magic. As always with Birdverese, I am profoundly satisfied and also reminded just how hungry I am for more. It’s a phenomenal read!
There’s something about watching a disaster unfold. I am reminded of the movie Titantic and how, really, the plot was telegraphed long before the audience ever stepped into the theater. People knew that the boat would sink. That a great many people would die. With R.B. Lemberg’s The Unbalancing, there’s a striking similarity. Ever since “Ranra’s Unbalancing” was published at Strange Horizons, the shape of Ranra’s story has been known. Birdverse is a setting that has unfolded through poetry and prose for years now, each new story a part of a larger tapestry, but always one that’s been coherent and consistent. So the core history behind The Unbalancing, which finds Ranra Kekeri trying to save the Star of the Tides and her island home, isn’t unknown. That doesn’t mean, however, that any of the story’s power is lost in the telling. In fact, knowing the disaster is coming only makes the tension that much more acute.
From the start, the stakes of the piece are as high as they can be. And each decision from the characters, made with the best of reasons, comes with a sinking and cringing realization that it’s bringing everything that much closer to disaster. The characters all know something is wrong with the Star of the Tides, with the magical anchor that brings magical energy and prosperity to the islands. They know that the star might be dying. What they don’t know is when. Is how. And Lemberg captures that tragic art with beauty and power, casting a wide range of people trying their hardest to avoid catastrophe. It’s at turns inspiring and heartbreaking, tightly paced and full of romance, action, and a sweeping world building.
We gift all to each other. – Dorod Laagar
The islands themselves in which the story unfolds are vividly imagined and no less a character than the people who inhabit them. It’s a place of stunning and scenic beauty, but also artistic and cultural freedom. Here the world isn’t divided into strict binaries, and one of the foundations of the book and cornerstones of its plot has little to do with the Star of the Tides or its possible destruction. Rather, it’s about one of the viewpoint characters, Erígra Lilún, and their identity. They are someone for whom interacting with people has always been difficult. They operate at a different pace than most people prefer, and it leaves them struggling in certain areas, like how to present and conceptualize their gender. They know that they are ichidi, or non-binary, but there are variations within that which they have a hard time navigating. It takes time. And pondering. And poetry. But on the islands this isn’t really a problem. The culture is supportive and open, full of a vibrant spectrum of people and peoples.
Not that misunderstandings or frictions don’t happen. Even in a free and honest place, identity can be complex, sometimes fragile. Built over trauma and uncertainty. The characters in the story all generally get along and like each other, but that doesn’t stop them from hurting each other. Taking advantage of each other. Failing to communicate. There are difficult conversations throughout the novel and they are captured so well, ring so real…and so too does the fact that some of them happen too late. Because while in ideal circumstances, everyone could go at their own pace, everyone could get the care and attention they need, circumstances are rarely ideal. And the failures of the past have a way of compounding, making the present a dance on the edge of ruin.
That doesn’t mean people stop trying. Even small, personal victories can be profound. Transforming. Healing. And for Lilún that means finding their expression, finding a kind of peace with themself, and even when they very much cannot move at their own pace, it means finding a community that can still support them, that they want to be a part of, and that values and cares for them exactly as they are. It’s that sense of community and union that makes the islands such a vibrant place, and its possible loss so tragic, especially given how closed, oppressive, and authoritarian some of the rest of the world of Birdverse can be. And yet it’s also how, despite everything, the book manages to chart a course away from complete despair and loss, and toward a future made possible by the giving and generosity of many.
It is never the time for poetry, and it is always the time – Erígra Lilún
Even while the world seems to be exploding, the sky falling, the Star of the Tides dying, this is also a novel very much about new beginnings. About the sudden and intense relationship that the two viewpoint characters, Ranra Kekeri and Erígra Lilún, join into. Another something that moves very much faster than Lilún is comfortable with, but they consent all the same, embrace this frightening and new experience with all their being and heart. And their relationship unlocks new secrets, new power, that might indeed be able to save the islands, to soothe and heal the Star of the Tides…or destroy it even faster than it would have otherwise. Their love is poetry, as inappropriate and dangerous in this time of life and death as it is unavoidable and, for these characters, necessary.
I love the nuanced ways the characters talk about relationships, about consent, about the times when asking isn’t really possible, and what that means for everyone involved. These are messy characters, who live and breathe and strive and fall short. Who have been hurt and are afraid of being hurt again, or hurting others. Lilún hesitates, and Ranra rushes forward, and yet together they find a way to be patient, and to be decisive, in a way that seems to enrich them both. And the relationships span their network of friends and former lovers, their work partners and their families. I’ve always admired Birdverse for its open and complex ways of looking at power and love, and this novel is no exception. It’s romantic and blisteringly hot at times, playful and shy at others, and always inclusive and careful in how it recognizes and affirms all the ways people are themselves. Even as the world is falling apart. Especially as the world is falling apart.
I carry my world – Zúr ichidi variation saying
It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to write self-insert fanfic based on a book series, but here we are. Because part of what I love about Birdverse, about the world The Unbalancing reveals more of, is that there is space for queer joy, queer victories, queer defeats that are not death. There are dangers, and there is hatred, and there is loss and difficulty. But there is also power and expression and language and art. There are things to dive deep into, from deep name magical geometry to artistic representations of ichidi variations. And there is the rush of action, the danger and the effort of trying to keep the world from completely unraveling. There is revolution and change. And through it all people reaching for their own truths, and each other.
The Unbalancing is the latest glimpse into the great tapestry of Birdverse, and it’s inspiring and contemplative and hot and tense. It finds a group of queer nerds thrust into a place of power, tasked with the impossible, and faced with the legacy of loss, despair, and inaction. Through that, though, they find strength in each other to act, and to reach for an outcome that might not be victory, but which isn’t entirely defeat. It’s a beautiful and nuanced work about love, power, and magic. As always with Birdverese, I am profoundly satisfied and also reminded just how hungry I am for more. It’s a phenomenal read!
February 18, 2023
3.0 Stars
As someone who loves neurodiverse and queer SFF, I had high hopes that I would love them. I liked the premise of this one, but the actual story was not entirely to my tastes.
A narrative like this is so dependent on character development, and I just never felt attached to the characters and thus failed to attach to the longer story.
I would primarily only recommend this novel to readers looking for this specific representation.
Disclaimer I received a copy of this book from the publisher.
As someone who loves neurodiverse and queer SFF, I had high hopes that I would love them. I liked the premise of this one, but the actual story was not entirely to my tastes.
A narrative like this is so dependent on character development, and I just never felt attached to the characters and thus failed to attach to the longer story.
I would primarily only recommend this novel to readers looking for this specific representation.
Disclaimer I received a copy of this book from the publisher.
March 30, 2022
I have received this ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
Such a beautiful cover, and the blurb was really intriguing!
I saw that it was part of a universe already established by the author, but it honestly felt like starting in the middle of a series. There is almost no worldbuilding, no descriptions, I couldn't really picture much.
For me, there was too much focus on gender identity, particularly all the variations of non-binary. It was more a contemplation and essay than an actual novel. Also a huge focus on the idea of consent; not necessarily in a relationship, but in general like "will this entity that I don't really understand (the star) consent to my being its keeper?". It felt like the plot was secondary, which may very well work for some readers, but didn't for me.
Another thing that didn't work for me was the use of made-up swear words. Because there is a Bird goddess, swearwords are bird-themed, so people will repeatedly say 'pluck you!', which sounded a bit silly to me.
I liked the idea of the magic system, which was quite innovative, but I also couldn't fully grasp it. So just by saying their deepnames in their head, they could summon magic and do...pretty much anything? And there were grids of deepnames all around, not just in people?
I also liked the idea of the characters: a shy and reclusive poet, versus a brash and loud starkeeper. It was thought versus action. Unfortunately, their relationship developed far too quickly to be believable or for me to get invested in it.
Overall, I just didn't really get to care about any of it (yet somehow the ending was still quite unsatisfactory).
Such a beautiful cover, and the blurb was really intriguing!
I saw that it was part of a universe already established by the author, but it honestly felt like starting in the middle of a series. There is almost no worldbuilding, no descriptions, I couldn't really picture much.
For me, there was too much focus on gender identity, particularly all the variations of non-binary. It was more a contemplation and essay than an actual novel. Also a huge focus on the idea of consent; not necessarily in a relationship, but in general like "will this entity that I don't really understand (the star) consent to my being its keeper?". It felt like the plot was secondary, which may very well work for some readers, but didn't for me.
Another thing that didn't work for me was the use of made-up swear words. Because there is a Bird goddess, swearwords are bird-themed, so people will repeatedly say 'pluck you!', which sounded a bit silly to me.
I liked the idea of the magic system, which was quite innovative, but I also couldn't fully grasp it. So just by saying their deepnames in their head, they could summon magic and do...pretty much anything? And there were grids of deepnames all around, not just in people?
I also liked the idea of the characters: a shy and reclusive poet, versus a brash and loud starkeeper. It was thought versus action. Unfortunately, their relationship developed far too quickly to be believable or for me to get invested in it.
Overall, I just didn't really get to care about any of it (yet somehow the ending was still quite unsatisfactory).
February 19, 2023
The Unbalancing by R. B. Lemberg is a lyrical fantasy novel featuring a sleeping star, magical names, an island community, and a ghost in a quince grove. The book is set in the same Birdverse universe that the 2020 novella The Four Profound Weaves was set in. You don't have to read the novella before reading this, as they take place in different locations and feature different characters.
In The Unbalancing, our two main characters try to find a way to save their island home with the help of their magic and their community. Beneath the waters of the islands of Gelle-Geu, a star sleeps, its wellbeing tied to the wellbeing of the island. But the star's sleep has grown restless, causing tremors on the island, and a new starkeeper, basically the leader of the community whose job it is to take care of the star, needs to figure out a solution.
Lilún is a poet who leads a solitary life. Every morning they tend a quince grove up on a hilltop and are visited by the spirit of their ancestor, Semberi, the first starkeeper, who wants Lilún to take over the role. Lilún is not interested; all they want is a quiet life and aren't comfortable with lots of people around. Our second point-of-view character is Ranra, the newly elected starkeeper. The previous starkeeper neglected his job, and now things have become more urgent. Ranra is a more loud and impatient person than Lilún, and I often found myself agreeing with Lilún that she needs to take things slower and think everything through before acting. The two meet and sparks fly, but their new relationship and attempts to learn about each other are hindered by the danger the island faces.
The magic system of deepnames that I was introduced to in The Four Profound Weaves is perhaps even more so present in this book. It is a fascinating system, where how many deepnames people have and how many syllables are in the names correspond to magical power. This novel delves more into how these names can be used and changed, with new revelations for the characters, as well.
Lemberg is so skillful in building different cultures that feel real and lived-in, their approaches to magic and gender all very different. In the two stories I've read set in this universe, I was introduced to the Surun' with their weaving magic, the Khana with their stricter gender roles, the city of Iyar where women are forbidden to have deepnames, and now the people of the islands of Gelle-Geu with variations of gender identity, some indicated by hair tokens shaped like different animals. Wherever I am in the Birdverse, I always believe in the setting, I believe in the people. It feels like everything has deep history and tradition behind it, and I love that. It's not just the main characters, all the side characters in The Unbalancing were fully developed people.
My favourite part in The Unbalancing was Semberi. This ancestral spirit, the first starkeeper, haunting a quince grove and trying to pester their chosen successor to fill the role. They really want Lilún to just go and do what they tell them to do! Whenever Lilún visited the grove, I was waiting to see Semberi and hear what they had to say. In bits and pieces, they tell the story of the star and the island, which features the goddess Bird.
Out of the two Birdverse books I've read, The Four Profound Weaves remains my favourite. There was just something about the weaving magic that I found very interesting. I read a review copy of The Unbalancing and give it 3.5 stars. The Unbalancing comes out from Tachyon Publications September 20th.
In The Unbalancing, our two main characters try to find a way to save their island home with the help of their magic and their community. Beneath the waters of the islands of Gelle-Geu, a star sleeps, its wellbeing tied to the wellbeing of the island. But the star's sleep has grown restless, causing tremors on the island, and a new starkeeper, basically the leader of the community whose job it is to take care of the star, needs to figure out a solution.
Lilún is a poet who leads a solitary life. Every morning they tend a quince grove up on a hilltop and are visited by the spirit of their ancestor, Semberi, the first starkeeper, who wants Lilún to take over the role. Lilún is not interested; all they want is a quiet life and aren't comfortable with lots of people around. Our second point-of-view character is Ranra, the newly elected starkeeper. The previous starkeeper neglected his job, and now things have become more urgent. Ranra is a more loud and impatient person than Lilún, and I often found myself agreeing with Lilún that she needs to take things slower and think everything through before acting. The two meet and sparks fly, but their new relationship and attempts to learn about each other are hindered by the danger the island faces.
The magic system of deepnames that I was introduced to in The Four Profound Weaves is perhaps even more so present in this book. It is a fascinating system, where how many deepnames people have and how many syllables are in the names correspond to magical power. This novel delves more into how these names can be used and changed, with new revelations for the characters, as well.
Lemberg is so skillful in building different cultures that feel real and lived-in, their approaches to magic and gender all very different. In the two stories I've read set in this universe, I was introduced to the Surun' with their weaving magic, the Khana with their stricter gender roles, the city of Iyar where women are forbidden to have deepnames, and now the people of the islands of Gelle-Geu with variations of gender identity, some indicated by hair tokens shaped like different animals. Wherever I am in the Birdverse, I always believe in the setting, I believe in the people. It feels like everything has deep history and tradition behind it, and I love that. It's not just the main characters, all the side characters in The Unbalancing were fully developed people.
My favourite part in The Unbalancing was Semberi. This ancestral spirit, the first starkeeper, haunting a quince grove and trying to pester their chosen successor to fill the role. They really want Lilún to just go and do what they tell them to do! Whenever Lilún visited the grove, I was waiting to see Semberi and hear what they had to say. In bits and pieces, they tell the story of the star and the island, which features the goddess Bird.
Out of the two Birdverse books I've read, The Four Profound Weaves remains my favourite. There was just something about the weaving magic that I found very interesting. I read a review copy of The Unbalancing and give it 3.5 stars. The Unbalancing comes out from Tachyon Publications September 20th.
September 20, 2022
The title of the Unbalancing is both a literal and emotional reference. Erigra is a poet and they are the descendant of a former starkeeper who buried the island's star beneath the waves. Ranra is the current starkeeper, struggling to understand why the star is suddenly unsettled, shaking the island, and what she can do about it. The two are complete opposites, a hard introvert and a charismatic socialite, yet they have an instant attraction, though they are self aware of their differences and the absurdity of it. As the two struggle to find shared ground and grow their relationship, they also have to use their combined abilities to solve the difficulties of the star for their island home.
I can 100% see the Ursula K. Le Guin comparison, this is probably the most familiar feeling work to Earthea that I've experienced. The island setting and power of names are overt similarities, but more subtly the writing and feeling of the story are reminiscent, beautifully poetic, yet spare prose. We also have the feel of stepping into a fully formed world, it's definitely no hard magic/science, but if you are prepared to walk into it then over the course of the story you will come to understand the world and how things are here. I found the culture rich, there is an element of weaving patterns and items into their hair to provide personal identity and history that I just loved. As always with Lemberg, the characterization is very diverse as well, I really enjoyed the inclusion of bi/pan, poly, and non-binary representation, without making anything explicit on page.
I requested and received an advanced copy for honest review, thanks to Tachyon and the author.
I can 100% see the Ursula K. Le Guin comparison, this is probably the most familiar feeling work to Earthea that I've experienced. The island setting and power of names are overt similarities, but more subtly the writing and feeling of the story are reminiscent, beautifully poetic, yet spare prose. We also have the feel of stepping into a fully formed world, it's definitely no hard magic/science, but if you are prepared to walk into it then over the course of the story you will come to understand the world and how things are here. I found the culture rich, there is an element of weaving patterns and items into their hair to provide personal identity and history that I just loved. As always with Lemberg, the characterization is very diverse as well, I really enjoyed the inclusion of bi/pan, poly, and non-binary representation, without making anything explicit on page.
I requested and received an advanced copy for honest review, thanks to Tachyon and the author.
September 30, 2022
Ahoy there mateys! This novel takes place on the islands of Gelle-Geu. The main character is a poet named Erígra Lilún who does not deal well with people and wants to be left alone to garden and write. Unfortunately, the ghost of their ancestor is badgering them to become the island starkeeper, a position Erígra knows they cannot handle. The ancestor claims that the star is failing and Erígra is the only person to save it and the islands. The official starkeeper is Ranra Kekeri who is trying hard to figure out what is wrong with the island and do what she believes is right. Then Ranra and Erígra meet and are smitten with one another. But do they deserve happiness on the brink of potential disaster?
I enjoyed this book but didn't love it. So much of this book focuses on the two characters' inner turmoil. Not enough of the plot dealt with the island culture and star. I think the major problem for me was while I loved both characters and sympathized with them, it was hard to watch them make the right choices for themselves and then having such a horrific ending. I honestly can't say if I believe the ending was inevitable no matter what Erígra and Ranra did or if they could have salvaged the situation by doing something different.
One of the elements that I had trouble with in this book was Erígra spending so much time pondering what their gender identity was. I totally understand why this was important to the character but it did not seem important to the plot. Whatever Erígra chose was going to be accepted by island people. I wanted the focus to be on the islands themselves, the star failing, the magic system, and the impact on the islanders. Personal preference.
While the writing is still lovely and I will read more from the author, this novel was the least favorite of the Birdverse so far. No regrets about reading it though. Arrr!
I enjoyed this book but didn't love it. So much of this book focuses on the two characters' inner turmoil. Not enough of the plot dealt with the island culture and star. I think the major problem for me was while I loved both characters and sympathized with them, it was hard to watch them make the right choices for themselves and then having such a horrific ending. I honestly can't say if I believe the ending was inevitable no matter what Erígra and Ranra did or if they could have salvaged the situation by doing something different.
One of the elements that I had trouble with in this book was Erígra spending so much time pondering what their gender identity was. I totally understand why this was important to the character but it did not seem important to the plot. Whatever Erígra chose was going to be accepted by island people. I wanted the focus to be on the islands themselves, the star failing, the magic system, and the impact on the islanders. Personal preference.
While the writing is still lovely and I will read more from the author, this novel was the least favorite of the Birdverse so far. No regrets about reading it though. Arrr!
March 21, 2024
Hm.
I feel some kind of way about this book, but I cannot identify the feeling.
The prose is beautiful, seriously, this book is lyrical, poetic, and the syntax and tone choices are...well, choice. I loved this book on a craft level. And I adore a queer-normative world with queer characters whose stories do not center on their queerness, even if that is a part of their stories.
I still don't know how I feel about the plot. I want to believe that Ranra earns the end of this book, but I don't think she does. I think the narrative is unfair to Ranra, and I think? that's the point? of the book? But it's definitely something I need to sit with. I'm ok with the story being unfair to the characters, but I need a reason beyond, "Life's not fair." That's how the real world works; I don't want that in my fiction.
All this to say, this book is absolutely beautiful, but I think it is not for me.
I feel some kind of way about this book, but I cannot identify the feeling.
The prose is beautiful, seriously, this book is lyrical, poetic, and the syntax and tone choices are...well, choice. I loved this book on a craft level. And I adore a queer-normative world with queer characters whose stories do not center on their queerness, even if that is a part of their stories.
I still don't know how I feel about the plot. I want to believe that Ranra earns the end of this book, but I don't think she does. I think the narrative is unfair to Ranra, and I think? that's the point? of the book? But it's definitely something I need to sit with. I'm ok with the story being unfair to the characters, but I need a reason beyond, "Life's not fair." That's how the real world works; I don't want that in my fiction.
All this to say, this book is absolutely beautiful, but I think it is not for me.
April 13, 2022
A story with a lot of depth. At times the narrative could be challenging to follow, but I feel like this may be intentional and we are readers are not meant to fully understand every nuisance. Beautiful abstract writing and the world-building is also quite exceptional. Additionally, I appreciate the author's take on diversity and representing a full cast of characters.
March 12, 2022
I would like to thank the publisher for reaching out to me and giving me this e-arc.
I just finished this, and I'm having a hard time putting my thoughts into words, but I really loved this. This whole universe (Birdverse) sounds so magical and I wish I could be part of it myself.
First of all, the writing was really good, and there was a nice, natural flow throughout the book. It was easy to tell whether it was Ranra or Lilún talking, as they had very different thought-patterns, but the writing flowed smoothly for both. I also felt like I could see everything that happened, because the writing created pictures in my head and made me almost able to feel what the characters were feeling. I related so much to Lilún and their need to make the world slow down so they could think, and, sometimes, also to Ranra's desperate feelings of wanting to fix everything swiftly.
All in all I think this book is beautiful. Not just in the writing, but also in the themes that are explored, and in the world it creates. The island community of Gelle-Geu is completely open and welcoming to any and all sexualities and gender expressions. I loved the way people would declare their identities to the world through ornaments/tokens weaved into their hair (or in the way they wore their hair, for example). I would have loved for there to be a small list explaining the different words and tokens used to describe people's identities and such. I mostly got the gist of it, but sometimes I had trouble remembering which was which.
I loved the island and its people, I loved the mythology of Bird, I loved the two main characters and I loved the culture of the island community.
I also found it interesting that things didn't turn out the way you might expect, and found it reflective of life in general. Things cannot always be tied up neatly with a bow, but somehow even when things go wrong, we continue on. And even if you put your whole heart into something, it's not always enough for you to succeed; this too is very much like real life.
All in all I loved this whole experience, and I'm excited to see what the author does next
I just finished this, and I'm having a hard time putting my thoughts into words, but I really loved this. This whole universe (Birdverse) sounds so magical and I wish I could be part of it myself.
First of all, the writing was really good, and there was a nice, natural flow throughout the book. It was easy to tell whether it was Ranra or Lilún talking, as they had very different thought-patterns, but the writing flowed smoothly for both. I also felt like I could see everything that happened, because the writing created pictures in my head and made me almost able to feel what the characters were feeling. I related so much to Lilún and their need to make the world slow down so they could think, and, sometimes, also to Ranra's desperate feelings of wanting to fix everything swiftly.
All in all I think this book is beautiful. Not just in the writing, but also in the themes that are explored, and in the world it creates. The island community of Gelle-Geu is completely open and welcoming to any and all sexualities and gender expressions. I loved the way people would declare their identities to the world through ornaments/tokens weaved into their hair (or in the way they wore their hair, for example). I would have loved for there to be a small list explaining the different words and tokens used to describe people's identities and such. I mostly got the gist of it, but sometimes I had trouble remembering which was which.
I loved the island and its people, I loved the mythology of Bird, I loved the two main characters and I loved the culture of the island community.
I also found it interesting that things didn't turn out the way you might expect, and found it reflective of life in general. Things cannot always be tied up neatly with a bow, but somehow even when things go wrong, we continue on. And even if you put your whole heart into something, it's not always enough for you to succeed; this too is very much like real life.
All in all I loved this whole experience, and I'm excited to see what the author does next
November 20, 2022
One of the best fantasy novels of the year smart and beautiful dealing climate change, mental health and learning to connect with people - brilliant
Full review - https://www.runalongtheshelves.net/bl...
Full review - https://www.runalongtheshelves.net/bl...
September 24, 2022
“We gift all to each other. Unless we perish, every single one of us, nobody and nothing can destroy us.”
After reading R.B. Lemberg’s The Four Profound Weaves, I looked forward to The Unbalancing, the first full-length novel set in the captivating Birdverse. With lyrical prose, imaginative magic, and a profound sense of resilience in the face of tragedy, The Unbalancing’s layered depth will reward those readers willing to submerge.
In the islands of Gelle-Geu, a star and its nightmares threaten devastation; a poet, their ancestor, a starkeeper, and her mountain provide the last chance to avert a sundering. If you’ve read Lemberg’s poem “Ranra’s Unbalancing”, you know how this story ends. If you haven’t—and you’re a poetry sort of person, and you don’t mind spoilers—I would suggest starting there. The novel informs the poem and vice versa. To see the context unfold in all its gorgeous, grief-laden power as I read was a moving experience.
Much like the magical connection between star and mountain the inhabitants of Gelle-Geu navigate in the novel, The Unbalancing is a tense push and pull between opposites: trauma and triumph, repair and rupture, delight and despair. In so short a space, it would be easy to tip the scales beyond repair, but Lemberg deftly portrays a panoply of human experiences with tenderness and grace.
The poetic prose in this novel shines brightest when describing its mythology, its magic, and its people. Even on the brink of disaster and potential exile, the community of Gelle-Geu is one that overflows with queerness, mutual care, and cooperation. Space is afforded both to the serious missteps people make and the resulting consequences and wonderful moments of connection.
The characters, particularly Erígra Lilún and Ranra Kekeri, are wonderful. Erígra is an introverted, autistic, nonbinary (ichidi) poet on the ace spectrum who generally prefers the company of their garden to people. Their journey to discover the nuances of their identity and calling plays an integral part of the story and is deeply moving. Meanwhile, this novel breathes a fiery dimension into Ranra’s character; the core of her we witness in “Ranra’s Unbalancing” flowers into a charismatic, driven, wounded woman determined to save her people.
Normally, I’d describe the pace of the relationship between Erígra and Ranra as rushed, but given the backdrop against which these two characters are set, the pacing makes sense when juxtaposed against other elements of their world. The rushing is, in essence, one of the many points, and it continues to be a point of contention between the two in other ways as the novel unfolds. Care and consent dominate their interactions. I particularly appreciate that the novel doesn’t shy away from the areas of friction between the two and lets both hold space for their unique experiences and pain.
My personal favourite element in a poignant, painful journey was the robust structure of nonbinary identities in the novel. In the modern-day world where ‘they’ increasingly feels like a third box with too-rigid dimensions if it’s even acknowledged at all, The Unbalancing offers a beautiful and refreshing ode to the expansiveness possible in being nonbinary. Each segment of the novel takes its name from one of the ichidi variations. If you ever pick this one up, come find me and I’ll tell you which variation most resonates with me.
If you want a fast-paced, blockbuster-style fantasy novel or a book easily explained in bullet points and tropes, The Unbalancing may not be for you. But if you can be patient with a journey and comfortable with the unexplained, I highly recommend this touching novel and its exploration of grief, community, loss, restoration, exile, and ultimately hope. For myself, The Unbalancing will be a novel I return to again in the future, curious and eager to see what new facets resonate with me.
Thank you to Tachyon Publications for an advance review copy. All opinions are my own.
After reading R.B. Lemberg’s The Four Profound Weaves, I looked forward to The Unbalancing, the first full-length novel set in the captivating Birdverse. With lyrical prose, imaginative magic, and a profound sense of resilience in the face of tragedy, The Unbalancing’s layered depth will reward those readers willing to submerge.
In the islands of Gelle-Geu, a star and its nightmares threaten devastation; a poet, their ancestor, a starkeeper, and her mountain provide the last chance to avert a sundering. If you’ve read Lemberg’s poem “Ranra’s Unbalancing”, you know how this story ends. If you haven’t—and you’re a poetry sort of person, and you don’t mind spoilers—I would suggest starting there. The novel informs the poem and vice versa. To see the context unfold in all its gorgeous, grief-laden power as I read was a moving experience.
Much like the magical connection between star and mountain the inhabitants of Gelle-Geu navigate in the novel, The Unbalancing is a tense push and pull between opposites: trauma and triumph, repair and rupture, delight and despair. In so short a space, it would be easy to tip the scales beyond repair, but Lemberg deftly portrays a panoply of human experiences with tenderness and grace.
The poetic prose in this novel shines brightest when describing its mythology, its magic, and its people. Even on the brink of disaster and potential exile, the community of Gelle-Geu is one that overflows with queerness, mutual care, and cooperation. Space is afforded both to the serious missteps people make and the resulting consequences and wonderful moments of connection.
The characters, particularly Erígra Lilún and Ranra Kekeri, are wonderful. Erígra is an introverted, autistic, nonbinary (ichidi) poet on the ace spectrum who generally prefers the company of their garden to people. Their journey to discover the nuances of their identity and calling plays an integral part of the story and is deeply moving. Meanwhile, this novel breathes a fiery dimension into Ranra’s character; the core of her we witness in “Ranra’s Unbalancing” flowers into a charismatic, driven, wounded woman determined to save her people.
Normally, I’d describe the pace of the relationship between Erígra and Ranra as rushed, but given the backdrop against which these two characters are set, the pacing makes sense when juxtaposed against other elements of their world. The rushing is, in essence, one of the many points, and it continues to be a point of contention between the two in other ways as the novel unfolds. Care and consent dominate their interactions. I particularly appreciate that the novel doesn’t shy away from the areas of friction between the two and lets both hold space for their unique experiences and pain.
My personal favourite element in a poignant, painful journey was the robust structure of nonbinary identities in the novel. In the modern-day world where ‘they’ increasingly feels like a third box with too-rigid dimensions if it’s even acknowledged at all, The Unbalancing offers a beautiful and refreshing ode to the expansiveness possible in being nonbinary. Each segment of the novel takes its name from one of the ichidi variations. If you ever pick this one up, come find me and I’ll tell you which variation most resonates with me.
If you want a fast-paced, blockbuster-style fantasy novel or a book easily explained in bullet points and tropes, The Unbalancing may not be for you. But if you can be patient with a journey and comfortable with the unexplained, I highly recommend this touching novel and its exploration of grief, community, loss, restoration, exile, and ultimately hope. For myself, The Unbalancing will be a novel I return to again in the future, curious and eager to see what new facets resonate with me.
Thank you to Tachyon Publications for an advance review copy. All opinions are my own.
August 10, 2022
Right around the 40% mark, I was suddenly hit with the realization that this book was teaching me things about myself, or possibly teaching me to think more about how I view myself. A little bit of a heavy epiphany to have, partway through what I intended to read as some light magic-based fantasy reading!
I previously read Lemberg’s novella The Four Profound Weaves and then quite soon after that, I sought out their poetry collection Marginalia to Stone Bird because I definitely needed more of the Birdverse. Lemberg has an absolute gift for creating atmosphere – I have no idea how the prose in The Unbalancing manages to be so aesthetically peaceful even though it’s clear that bad things are very much happening and everything is unbalanced by earthquakes and a sputtering star that threatens to destroy everything. But then there are the trees, or the mountain, or the cat, or simply people creating fireworks to have a spark of joy in the air as they help each other recover. It is very seriously some of the “prettiest” depictions of looming apocalyptic catastrophes. I think the scene where Dorod braids Erígra’s hair will live somewhere in my heart for a very long time.
As I have been reading quite a few new releases over the past few months, it seems that I am encountering more and more stories that are starting to show evidence of what is probably going to become an important and distinct era for literature. This book contains no disease or quarantine, but it also feels unmistakably resonant with a world attempting to emerge from a global pandemic – far more resonant than I think it could have been if it were written at any other time. The poem that this book is an expansion of, “Ranra’s Unbalancing,” was written years ago (2015-ish, I think?) and it is sharp with loss and anger and something like despair, if it wasn’t desperation – the words prick like knives at the hurt that follows Ranra’s loss. The Unbalancing has something different. Not contradictory! It fits easily in with its predecessor – but it is at its core burning more with an exhausted sort of hope, rather than anger alone.
What does it mean to ‘fix’ the world in the face of a disaster that you have watch approach, knowing that the time to act has long past? Do you try anyway?
"I wanted my house back, and my notebook, and my pen, so that I could write this feeling out and excise it, and then either repair the poem or destroy it, but I was paperless, and here, and I wasn’t even sure if it mattered."
“…my defense of her came out childish, as if wanting to fix was ever enough. As if fix was even the word we needed."
Also, as expected from any Birdverse installment, there is some of the most interesting reflections on gender and selfhood. Absolutely fascinating and meaningful in ways I could never have the words to describe.
I previously read Lemberg’s novella The Four Profound Weaves and then quite soon after that, I sought out their poetry collection Marginalia to Stone Bird because I definitely needed more of the Birdverse. Lemberg has an absolute gift for creating atmosphere – I have no idea how the prose in The Unbalancing manages to be so aesthetically peaceful even though it’s clear that bad things are very much happening and everything is unbalanced by earthquakes and a sputtering star that threatens to destroy everything. But then there are the trees, or the mountain, or the cat, or simply people creating fireworks to have a spark of joy in the air as they help each other recover. It is very seriously some of the “prettiest” depictions of looming apocalyptic catastrophes. I think the scene where Dorod braids Erígra’s hair will live somewhere in my heart for a very long time.
As I have been reading quite a few new releases over the past few months, it seems that I am encountering more and more stories that are starting to show evidence of what is probably going to become an important and distinct era for literature. This book contains no disease or quarantine, but it also feels unmistakably resonant with a world attempting to emerge from a global pandemic – far more resonant than I think it could have been if it were written at any other time. The poem that this book is an expansion of, “Ranra’s Unbalancing,” was written years ago (2015-ish, I think?) and it is sharp with loss and anger and something like despair, if it wasn’t desperation – the words prick like knives at the hurt that follows Ranra’s loss. The Unbalancing has something different. Not contradictory! It fits easily in with its predecessor – but it is at its core burning more with an exhausted sort of hope, rather than anger alone.
What does it mean to ‘fix’ the world in the face of a disaster that you have watch approach, knowing that the time to act has long past? Do you try anyway?
"I wanted my house back, and my notebook, and my pen, so that I could write this feeling out and excise it, and then either repair the poem or destroy it, but I was paperless, and here, and I wasn’t even sure if it mattered."
“…my defense of her came out childish, as if wanting to fix was ever enough. As if fix was even the word we needed."
Also, as expected from any Birdverse installment, there is some of the most interesting reflections on gender and selfhood. Absolutely fascinating and meaningful in ways I could never have the words to describe.
September 23, 2022
There is no one else in the world that writes fantasy like R.B. Lemberg: lyrical, heartfelt, and queer, the kind of deeply thoughtful writing that leaves you pondering things long after you’ve finished the book. It’s a magical experience and one I look forward to every time, but one that’s also accessible for a new reader. So while this takes place in the pre-existing Birdverse, no prior knowledge is necessary to enjoy this book.
Gelle-Geu is an island paradise, thanks to the Star of the Tides tethered to the islands that brings them magical energy and prosperity. The stars were brought there by the goddess Bird, though the star under Gelle-Geu has never been awake like the others. But Ranra, the newly elected starkeeper, has long suspected that something’s wrong, and it’s quickly evident that she has even less time to fix things than she thought. With the help of Lilún, a poet who’s also mysteriously connected to the star, can they prevent the death of the star and the collapse of their island?
Most of the synopsis mentions Ranra, but for me, it was Lilún who was the heart of the book. A poet, they prefer to spend their days tending to the quince grove on the island, mostly ignoring the grumpy ghost of their ancestor Semberí. Semberí seems to think that it’s Lilún’s responsibility to become the starkeeper, to try to connect with and soothe the star. Despite not being the starkeeper, Lilún is still somehow connected to the star and they can feel its nightmares. And now that Ranra has completed the starkeeper ceremonies, she can feel the same fear.
The two main characters couldn’t be more different than each other. Ranra is always go go go, impatient to solve the problem of the star and terrified they have less time than they believe. After a childhood spent with a mother who always found fault with her, she’s desperate to prove her competence. Lilún on the other hand is careful and deliberate, the sort of person who prefers to sit down and consider new experiences in their mind. They’re coded as neurodivergent, disliking eye contact and overwhelmed by large noisy crowds. Though the two are attracted to each other from their first meeting, figuring out how to work together to save the star is a frustrating process for both of them.
As always, the world building is phenomenal. The stories about the goddess Bird (and Ranra’s hilarious avian-related swear words) were lovely. The magic system is the same as the one used in The Four Profound Weaves, involving deepnames. A person can have up to three of them, with the shorter the syllables, the more powerful. Ranra, for instance, has the most stable, the Royal House, consisting of two one-syllable and one two-syllable deepnames. Lilún could have that configuration, but instead they stopped at two deepnames, which, frankly, is very Lilún.
My favorite world building bit this time was with gender identity. From the start Lilún is written as nonbinary, what their people call ichidar. Ichidar braid their hair into five parts which stand for the five possible variations of ichidar, and attach tokens in the shape of animals to show their variations. For instance, Dorado, one of the side characters, is rugár, signified by a bear, which means they’re “at once both father and mother, protective and caring and steady in their fierceness.” While Lilún knows they’re ichidar, their journey to figuring out which variation was heartwarming and very revealing of their character.
Unsurprisingly, there’s a lot of difficult themes throughout the book. One of the main ones for both characters is living up to others’ expectations, especially when they’re trying to force you to be someone you’re not. Consent is also a huge one, and how it relates to, well, everything, but especially neurodivergence. There’s also a few beautiful passages about community, about responsibilities to others, about what community really is, whether it’s tied to a place or a people.
Overall, if you took the myth of Atlantis and made it queer and, well, wholly wonderful, you’d get this book. One final note: the author dedicated this book to Corey who is sadly no longer with us, but I could feel echoes of them everywhere in the book, their thoughtfulness, their insight, their kindness and gentle grace when someone made a mistake. And truly, I can’t think of a better recommendation than that. Highly recommended!
I received an advance review copy of this book from NetGalley. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
Content notes:
Gelle-Geu is an island paradise, thanks to the Star of the Tides tethered to the islands that brings them magical energy and prosperity. The stars were brought there by the goddess Bird, though the star under Gelle-Geu has never been awake like the others. But Ranra, the newly elected starkeeper, has long suspected that something’s wrong, and it’s quickly evident that she has even less time to fix things than she thought. With the help of Lilún, a poet who’s also mysteriously connected to the star, can they prevent the death of the star and the collapse of their island?
“Keeper, I need to be blunt. I do not like this word, fix, that you keep repeating. The stars are alive—they have pain and stories, they have journeys and dreams—this I’m sure of. The stars are alive even if they are asleep. The stars, when awake, can consent and withdraw their consent, and they can converse with their keepers. The stars are people, and you do not fix people.”
Most of the synopsis mentions Ranra, but for me, it was Lilún who was the heart of the book. A poet, they prefer to spend their days tending to the quince grove on the island, mostly ignoring the grumpy ghost of their ancestor Semberí. Semberí seems to think that it’s Lilún’s responsibility to become the starkeeper, to try to connect with and soothe the star. Despite not being the starkeeper, Lilún is still somehow connected to the star and they can feel its nightmares. And now that Ranra has completed the starkeeper ceremonies, she can feel the same fear.
“I could carry the pain, but I did not have the gentleness.”
The two main characters couldn’t be more different than each other. Ranra is always go go go, impatient to solve the problem of the star and terrified they have less time than they believe. After a childhood spent with a mother who always found fault with her, she’s desperate to prove her competence. Lilún on the other hand is careful and deliberate, the sort of person who prefers to sit down and consider new experiences in their mind. They’re coded as neurodivergent, disliking eye contact and overwhelmed by large noisy crowds. Though the two are attracted to each other from their first meeting, figuring out how to work together to save the star is a frustrating process for both of them.
“The islands had weathered storms and earthquakes before, but I was terrified. We had always come together and rebuilt. We trusted our magics and our friendships, our warmth and our gardens, our abundance, our scholarship, but that wouldn’t be enough now.”
As always, the world building is phenomenal. The stories about the goddess Bird (and Ranra’s hilarious avian-related swear words) were lovely. The magic system is the same as the one used in The Four Profound Weaves, involving deepnames. A person can have up to three of them, with the shorter the syllables, the more powerful. Ranra, for instance, has the most stable, the Royal House, consisting of two one-syllable and one two-syllable deepnames. Lilún could have that configuration, but instead they stopped at two deepnames, which, frankly, is very Lilún.
My favorite world building bit this time was with gender identity. From the start Lilún is written as nonbinary, what their people call ichidar. Ichidar braid their hair into five parts which stand for the five possible variations of ichidar, and attach tokens in the shape of animals to show their variations. For instance, Dorado, one of the side characters, is rugár, signified by a bear, which means they’re “at once both father and mother, protective and caring and steady in their fierceness.” While Lilún knows they’re ichidar, their journey to figuring out which variation was heartwarming and very revealing of their character.
“We gift all to each other. Unless we perish, every single one of us, nobody and nothing can destroy this.”
Unsurprisingly, there’s a lot of difficult themes throughout the book. One of the main ones for both characters is living up to others’ expectations, especially when they’re trying to force you to be someone you’re not. Consent is also a huge one, and how it relates to, well, everything, but especially neurodivergence. There’s also a few beautiful passages about community, about responsibilities to others, about what community really is, whether it’s tied to a place or a people.
Overall, if you took the myth of Atlantis and made it queer and, well, wholly wonderful, you’d get this book. One final note: the author dedicated this book to Corey who is sadly no longer with us, but I could feel echoes of them everywhere in the book, their thoughtfulness, their insight, their kindness and gentle grace when someone made a mistake. And truly, I can’t think of a better recommendation than that. Highly recommended!
I received an advance review copy of this book from NetGalley. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
Content notes:
July 28, 2024
his is a relatively short novel that handles its stack of big issues very convincingly regarding plot and character development, and at the same time gives you a lot to think about – with the characters, whose (self-)reflectivenes is an integral part of the narrative and almost never feels forced .
It's the tale of a group of very divers people (sexual and gender identity-wise and also regarding their neurological status), who have magical abilities (magical abilities and gender/sexual and neurological identity are not connected), and have to decide on the right way to tackle the mounting danger that the islands they live on are destroyed by a natural catastrophe, and with it their very inclusive, slightly anarchist community and culture. The volcano at the heart of their archipelago is tethered to a huge sentient entity full of magical energy, the star of the tides, that sleeps deep down in the sea around the islands. The star's sleep is more and more disturbed by nightmares, it's expanding, which in turn is activating the volcano. The old star keeper, who knew all this, but couldn't convince his council members nor the islanders how very dangerous the situation is, and how little time is left to conceive a strategy how to deal with this emergency, has now died. And the new star keeper, Ranra, a council member and one of the narrators, and her counselors are facing the exact same situation, but much much more urgent. The whole novel centers around questions of responsibilities in an emergency, and how to deal with the knowledge that you and your decision or indecisions are part of the problem or even made it worse.
In a way The Unbalancing a treatise on catastrophe / emergency ethics, but as a well crafted, very moving novel: Is it okay or even necessary that those who know how things stand, force their decisions on the others (that don't know, won't know or don't believe in the urgency)? Does urgency overrule participatory decision making? Do you have the duty to participate in a rescue operation, which will maybe cost your life, but in any case will put you in a position to actively go against your own personality / character / neurological make-up? Does a noble end justify compromising in relations to the means? Is a discussion that so easily divides between ends and means not the wholly inadequate framework to look at the situation, and has actually brought on this situation in the first place? What does failure mean, and, again, isn't the thinking in failure/success inadequate to frame or address acting in an existential crisis, and leads to the kind of doomerism and despair, that in the end prevented the old star keeper from doing anything at all, except waiting for disaster to strike.
I know this sounds very dry and philosophical, but although this novel is some sort of novel of ideas or even an allegorical novel, it's neither boring, nor dull: The story is very exciting and full of suspense, the character arcs are very convincingly developed, and the writing style is very evocative and lyrical. If you liked This Is How You Lose the Time War , give this a go. I think you will like it.
It's the tale of a group of very divers people (sexual and gender identity-wise and also regarding their neurological status), who have magical abilities (magical abilities and gender/sexual and neurological identity are not connected), and have to decide on the right way to tackle the mounting danger that the islands they live on are destroyed by a natural catastrophe, and with it their very inclusive, slightly anarchist community and culture. The volcano at the heart of their archipelago is tethered to a huge sentient entity full of magical energy, the star of the tides, that sleeps deep down in the sea around the islands. The star's sleep is more and more disturbed by nightmares, it's expanding, which in turn is activating the volcano. The old star keeper, who knew all this, but couldn't convince his council members nor the islanders how very dangerous the situation is, and how little time is left to conceive a strategy how to deal with this emergency, has now died. And the new star keeper, Ranra, a council member and one of the narrators, and her counselors are facing the exact same situation, but much much more urgent. The whole novel centers around questions of responsibilities in an emergency, and how to deal with the knowledge that you and your decision or indecisions are part of the problem or even made it worse.
In a way The Unbalancing a treatise on catastrophe / emergency ethics, but as a well crafted, very moving novel: Is it okay or even necessary that those who know how things stand, force their decisions on the others (that don't know, won't know or don't believe in the urgency)? Does urgency overrule participatory decision making? Do you have the duty to participate in a rescue operation, which will maybe cost your life, but in any case will put you in a position to actively go against your own personality / character / neurological make-up? Does a noble end justify compromising in relations to the means? Is a discussion that so easily divides between ends and means not the wholly inadequate framework to look at the situation, and has actually brought on this situation in the first place? What does failure mean, and, again, isn't the thinking in failure/success inadequate to frame or address acting in an existential crisis, and leads to the kind of doomerism and despair, that in the end prevented the old star keeper from doing anything at all, except waiting for disaster to strike.
I know this sounds very dry and philosophical, but although this novel is some sort of novel of ideas or even an allegorical novel, it's neither boring, nor dull: The story is very exciting and full of suspense, the character arcs are very convincingly developed, and the writing style is very evocative and lyrical. If you liked This Is How You Lose the Time War , give this a go. I think you will like it.
September 22, 2022
Read an ARC from the publisher
Content warnings: earthquakes and the aftermath of natural disasters, references to past ableism
Gelle-Geu is an island city whose star god is restless and earthquakes come closer and closer. Ranra has taken on the role of starkeeper, and her first task is to unravel the problems left attended by her predecessor. She seeks the counsel of Lilún, a poet whose ancestor is begging them to take on the role of starkeeper. Their relationship ignites while disaster strikes, and it’s a race against star charts and magic to possibly save the city.
This novel has all the dreaminess of poetry and being told a bedtime story with intense calamity on the horizon and tender romance at its core.
An interview with the author will be posted to celebrate the release of Geometries of Belonging: Stories and Poems from the Birdverse on November 29th, release day.
The neurodivergent rep is presented so seamlessly with the rest of the narrative. It informs the plot, but isn't the plot. Lilún experiences the world differently, and the way their understanding informs the reader of the world's values is so effective. It's easy to follow. And when it does cause them distress, it's presented with such respect and offers insight into their passion for poetry and gardening. This respectful casualness extends to the queer rep; in fact, there is a world-building element with tokens representing different genders. It's so thoughtfully crafted and identity is not necessarily a part of the central conflict.
The way magic plays into Lilún's and Ranra's courtship is incredibly fun and among my favorite parts of the book. Intimacy and magic collide to move the story along, both interpersonally and externally. It's sexy and unexpectedly intense, with a deep focus on consent and mutual respect. These themes also play into the relationship between the stars and their keepers, tightening the story threads with finesse.
Though the cast is relatively small, Lemberg establishes a clear sense of epic scope. Despite interactions happening in ways that feel more slice-of-life and political fantasy, the very real danger of impending earthquakes caused by cosmic disturbances never quells in its urgency.
Epic, tender, and immersive in its world-building, the Birdverse stories continue to be a poetic, fantasy delight.
Content warnings: earthquakes and the aftermath of natural disasters, references to past ableism
Gelle-Geu is an island city whose star god is restless and earthquakes come closer and closer. Ranra has taken on the role of starkeeper, and her first task is to unravel the problems left attended by her predecessor. She seeks the counsel of Lilún, a poet whose ancestor is begging them to take on the role of starkeeper. Their relationship ignites while disaster strikes, and it’s a race against star charts and magic to possibly save the city.
This novel has all the dreaminess of poetry and being told a bedtime story with intense calamity on the horizon and tender romance at its core.
An interview with the author will be posted to celebrate the release of Geometries of Belonging: Stories and Poems from the Birdverse on November 29th, release day.
The neurodivergent rep is presented so seamlessly with the rest of the narrative. It informs the plot, but isn't the plot. Lilún experiences the world differently, and the way their understanding informs the reader of the world's values is so effective. It's easy to follow. And when it does cause them distress, it's presented with such respect and offers insight into their passion for poetry and gardening. This respectful casualness extends to the queer rep; in fact, there is a world-building element with tokens representing different genders. It's so thoughtfully crafted and identity is not necessarily a part of the central conflict.
The way magic plays into Lilún's and Ranra's courtship is incredibly fun and among my favorite parts of the book. Intimacy and magic collide to move the story along, both interpersonally and externally. It's sexy and unexpectedly intense, with a deep focus on consent and mutual respect. These themes also play into the relationship between the stars and their keepers, tightening the story threads with finesse.
Though the cast is relatively small, Lemberg establishes a clear sense of epic scope. Despite interactions happening in ways that feel more slice-of-life and political fantasy, the very real danger of impending earthquakes caused by cosmic disturbances never quells in its urgency.
Epic, tender, and immersive in its world-building, the Birdverse stories continue to be a poetic, fantasy delight.
March 29, 2022
THE UNBALANCING is an unbalanced work (heh). I’ve previously liked much of Lemberg’s other works, including their novella THE FOUR PROFOUND WEAVES as well as many Birdverse poems. They’re delightfully original, depicting a very queer and diverse world. The worldbuilding is quite interesting, if abstract—I felt a bit lost at times, but if I got it right this book is about a sleeping star having nightmares, threatening a nearby city- which means a starkeeper and a poet have to try and heal the star.
It's a very magic-infused book, definitely easier to read than THE FOUR PROFOUND WEAVES, but it still feels a bit too much for me. An extended version with more of a focus on the plot and the characters would do wonders, I reckon. But if you’re willing to forgive its somewhat ramshackle plot, you’ll be enraptured by its mythology (still the main appeal to the Birdverse, for me), the tremendous amount of diversity and the way people express it (not just queer, but also neurodiversity, and cultural).
If anything, it’s an interesting read. I think it will grow on me on a re-read. It’s a poetic and fleeting work—unique, inspiring wonder, feeling like a small story in a much bigger world.
DISCLAIMER: I received an ARC of this book in exchange of an honest review.
It's a very magic-infused book, definitely easier to read than THE FOUR PROFOUND WEAVES, but it still feels a bit too much for me. An extended version with more of a focus on the plot and the characters would do wonders, I reckon. But if you’re willing to forgive its somewhat ramshackle plot, you’ll be enraptured by its mythology (still the main appeal to the Birdverse, for me), the tremendous amount of diversity and the way people express it (not just queer, but also neurodiversity, and cultural).
If anything, it’s an interesting read. I think it will grow on me on a re-read. It’s a poetic and fleeting work—unique, inspiring wonder, feeling like a small story in a much bigger world.
DISCLAIMER: I received an ARC of this book in exchange of an honest review.
March 22, 2023
The first book for my Trans Rights Readathon reads.
Lemberg's background in poetry shines here. It did take about 50 pages before I really got into the story and understood the world and the stakes. (I have not read their other Birdverse stories.) I ended up loving the messages about community and what it means for people to work together even in failure. Particularly the ideas of leadership and who's suited for what tasks and how even if you have the power, it's still all choices.
The ideas around gender and nonbinary/trans identities were interesting, and it was fun to see Lemberg play with them and expand on themes already in our communities. The Unbalancing felt specifically written for trans people, which is always a special feeling to be the target audience.
Lemberg's background in poetry shines here. It did take about 50 pages before I really got into the story and understood the world and the stakes. (I have not read their other Birdverse stories.) I ended up loving the messages about community and what it means for people to work together even in failure. Particularly the ideas of leadership and who's suited for what tasks and how even if you have the power, it's still all choices.
The ideas around gender and nonbinary/trans identities were interesting, and it was fun to see Lemberg play with them and expand on themes already in our communities. The Unbalancing felt specifically written for trans people, which is always a special feeling to be the target audience.
May 18, 2022
Such a lovely book. A quick read, but the language is so beautifully written, the time sails by. It's a simple story with engaging characters, and who doesn't want to read about a village trying to save a star? The fantastical elements of this book are so unique, unlike anything I've read previously, and the prose is as close to poetry as you can get without it actually being poetry. I found this book to be engaging, thoughtful, and beautiful.
June 21, 2022
*I received an ARC by the publishers in exchange for an honest review. Thank you for the free book*
I read "The Four Profound Weaves" just before the pandemic hit. The pandemic is far from over but I managed to return to my now beloved Birdverse. "The Unbalancing" is a story about found love, healing, failing, and starting again. I don't really want to talk about the content too much, but if you enjoyed the poetry and queer love story of "A Memory Called Empire" and you'd like dystopian moments and a world literally about to end, you should pick it up. The novel is philosophical, sometimes funny, sometimes sad, and overall weird -- but in a good way. The queer representation is wholesome and sweet, I really liked both protagonists and I would love to read more.
4.5 stars because things escalated really quickly and I had trouble keeping track of everything sometimes
I read "The Four Profound Weaves" just before the pandemic hit. The pandemic is far from over but I managed to return to my now beloved Birdverse. "The Unbalancing" is a story about found love, healing, failing, and starting again. I don't really want to talk about the content too much, but if you enjoyed the poetry and queer love story of "A Memory Called Empire" and you'd like dystopian moments and a world literally about to end, you should pick it up. The novel is philosophical, sometimes funny, sometimes sad, and overall weird -- but in a good way. The queer representation is wholesome and sweet, I really liked both protagonists and I would love to read more.
4.5 stars because things escalated really quickly and I had trouble keeping track of everything sometimes
January 22, 2023
Really enjoyed the first person narratives from two characters. And what a gift to read about a community that held queerness, polyamory, neurodiversity, active consent, and magical diversity with care.
February 1, 2023
A short but deep queer fantasy with an intriguing magic system and deity.
February 10, 2023
To see a full review check it out here.
This was woah.
This was woah.
August 7, 2023
The world is very cool and so is the magic. The falling in love aspect after only a few days is not my favorite.
April 26, 2022
I very much enjoyed this book, and one of the reasons was that I felt very comfortable reading it.
Part of it was certainly the way the gender binary is a non-starter in this near-paradise archipelago, which makes me feel safe as a person outside the gender binary myself. This is added to, maybe paradoxically, by the mentions that the world outside of the island nation is not as free from gendered restrictions, and that gendered violence is real and terrifying. The knowledge that this island is a safe haven rather than the norm makes it feel even more special. Additionally, everyone respects each other. Even characters who don't particularly like each other, or have a complicated history, generally treat each other with respect. When characters make each other uncomfortable for any reason, they are tired or read a situation wrong, they apologize. Overall, despite the tensions of, you know, the actual plot, I felt rather cozy reading it.
I also thought that the magical system was intriguing. The concept of secret names which give power is nothing new, but I felt the way it was employed was exceptional. The visual of deep names swirling above one's head like stars as they cast magic added to the wistful, celestial atmosphere of the book.
The only thing that real broke my immersion was the occasional use of the word "style" in relation to how a character does something. It seemed garishly modern against the rest of the setting, to say "that's just not their style".
Otherwise I think this is an excellent start to a series and I am very excited to see how it progresses after the impactful end of this first book.
Part of it was certainly the way the gender binary is a non-starter in this near-paradise archipelago, which makes me feel safe as a person outside the gender binary myself. This is added to, maybe paradoxically, by the mentions that the world outside of the island nation is not as free from gendered restrictions, and that gendered violence is real and terrifying. The knowledge that this island is a safe haven rather than the norm makes it feel even more special. Additionally, everyone respects each other. Even characters who don't particularly like each other, or have a complicated history, generally treat each other with respect. When characters make each other uncomfortable for any reason, they are tired or read a situation wrong, they apologize. Overall, despite the tensions of, you know, the actual plot, I felt rather cozy reading it.
I also thought that the magical system was intriguing. The concept of secret names which give power is nothing new, but I felt the way it was employed was exceptional. The visual of deep names swirling above one's head like stars as they cast magic added to the wistful, celestial atmosphere of the book.
The only thing that real broke my immersion was the occasional use of the word "style" in relation to how a character does something. It seemed garishly modern against the rest of the setting, to say "that's just not their style".
Otherwise I think this is an excellent start to a series and I am very excited to see how it progresses after the impactful end of this first book.
November 19, 2022
I really enjoyed the lore and magical systems of this book, as well as the unique queer culture of the setting. I don't think it is a coincidence that Lemberg is a Le Guin Feminist Fellow and I see a lot of similarity between the magic of this book and Le Guin's wizards of earthsea series, particularly around the source of magic being names. However, I felt this book developed on the idea of having hidden power names in a way that made it unique from Le Guins, particularly the configurations of names and the ability to connect magic between people. And the concept of names being powerful and having hidden or juat deeply personal names takes on new meaning when many of the characters are non-binary and/or queer.
Only reason I'm not giving 5 stars is because the plot felt like it sputtered a bit in places before picking up again and some of the dialougue felt a bit stilted. Particularly when characters were discussing consent. There is a point where a character says "I do not consent to being stopped, I am going". Something about that just feels awkward to me, and there were a couple other points of the book that felt similarly awkward, like someone wouldn't say that or use the word consent in that particular context. But... it is a book about magic and living stars so maybe it's not so unbelievable they would word it that way, it just took me out of the plot a bit. It is really cool to have a book where the magical power is based in trust, consent and the power of community.
Also, other reviews have mentioned not liking the bird-themed curse words, and I can understand why, but I found them funny in a charming way. Maybe because I'm a birder lol.
Only reason I'm not giving 5 stars is because the plot felt like it sputtered a bit in places before picking up again and some of the dialougue felt a bit stilted. Particularly when characters were discussing consent. There is a point where a character says "I do not consent to being stopped, I am going". Something about that just feels awkward to me, and there were a couple other points of the book that felt similarly awkward, like someone wouldn't say that or use the word consent in that particular context. But... it is a book about magic and living stars so maybe it's not so unbelievable they would word it that way, it just took me out of the plot a bit. It is really cool to have a book where the magical power is based in trust, consent and the power of community.
Also, other reviews have mentioned not liking the bird-themed curse words, and I can understand why, but I found them funny in a charming way. Maybe because I'm a birder lol.
October 1, 2024
This novel taught me that we should be careful what we wish for! A couple of years ago, I reviewed R. B. Lemberg's first book length prose volume in the 'Birdverse', a short novel or more probably a novella called 'The Four Profound Weaves'. I adored the poetic writing style and I adored the far from typical characters, but I found the fantasy elements too ephemeral, as if the author had zero interest in actually explaining anything. I wondered what Lemberg could conjure up if they wrote a more substantial piece with more grounding.
Well, that's exactly what 'The Unbalancing' is. It's not a long novel, but it's certainly longer than a novella, and it's far more grounded, spending its entire time in the islands of Gelle-Geu—which I'd pronounce with two soft Gs, possibly inappropriately—with a primary plot that unfolds relatively consistently from beginning to end. It's a further 'Birdverse' book with another pair of admirably atypical lead characters and some of the mystical elements return, such as the use of deepnames, mental constructs used for magical purposes. These remain unexplained, though they are subject to the laws of mathematics, which explorations I found fascinating, and serve mostly as an obvious representation of power. You're powerful if you have one deepname and each additional one lifts you in the power hierarchy.
At heart, this is a tragedy a thousand years in the making, because the star anchored in the water off the Gelle-Geu islands, that brings it life and safety, has become unstable and is likely to fail at any point. Already there are earthquakes and they're getting worse. The islands are facing total disaster and a new starkeeper is elected to make a difference, Ranra Kekeri by name, but it soon becomes clear to her that what's needed was needed a long time ago and her predecessors have not left her in an enviable position, possibly not even a tenable one.
She's a fascinating character, a go-getter with three deepnames who is eager to become a solution to whatever problems have been left for her to clean up. She's female, notably so because gender is a spectrum in the Birdverse, so pronouns are not simple—Lemberg neatly avoids complications on that front by narrating in the first person, even though they alternate between two characters again. Ranra is open with her relationships and isn't gender-specific in her choices, which, through Lemberg's capable character building, makes her seem free and confident rather than horny and promiscuous.
It's an important aspect to her character because of how it impacts her ability to get things done. She has an ensemble of advisors, a number of whom she's slept with and might make assumptions as to what their relationship means. Above all, it flavours her most important relationship, which is with Erígra Lilún, the other key character here, who's even more fascinating than she is, one of my favourite characters in recent fiction. The biggest success of this book is in how the two are so fundamentally different yet connect in very believable ways.
Lilún is a poet who's clearly neurodiverse. While Ranra flourishes in social situations, Lilún avoids them with a passion, spending most of their time tending the garden on Semberí's Hill, which is so secluded that it's actually not visible to anyone else except the ghost who lends it its name. He is the gentleman who brought the star to the islands a thousand years ago and he's emphatic about how Lilún should become starkeeper in order to soothe it and restore stability before it's too late. That's not how Lilún sees it, though, and their courteous friendship becomes a little fractious.
Of course, Semberí is kind of an expert on this front and it would behoove both Ranra and Lilún to listen to him, but also for them to read a little deeper as to what must actually be done. As I stated earlier, this is a tragedy at heart but one with hope. It's about how all things must eventually end and yet also become new beginnings. Both Lilún and especially Ranra are too wrapped up in their own interpretations of what's going on to acknowledge the true reality of it and Semberí, even if he's introduced as a wise all-knowing ghost, has flawed perspective too. I love how that plays out.
I have to confess that I'm of two minds about my wish for a more grounded 'Birdverse' book.
This is not far from what I was hoping for in the closing remarks in my review of 'The Four Profound Weaves' and there's much to praise about the single setting and strong focus on one fundamental plot strand. It certainly makes this book far more accessible than its predecessor and, while both are standalones, this would be the best choice to start with if you're interested in diving into this universe.
However, I found this a little less lyrical and poetic than the previous book and that stripped some of the magic so obvious in 'The Four Profound Weaves' away from this story and I missed that. With it gone, I enjoyed this more for its characters than its prose and not the primary two leads alone, though which others I appreciated most depended on where I was on the book. I felt far closer to both Ranra and Lilún than anyone last time out, but I didn't feel the need to read this one aloud to myself to hear the majesty of the prose.
At least the grounding gives Lemberg the ability to expand the Birdverse a little, in ways that are reminiscent of Ursula K. LeGuin and I'm hoping to see a lot more of. In particular, Lilún is without a gender, because that's something that people decide on in this universe when they feel strongly enough to choose one. It has nothing at all to do with biological parts and Lilún has been celibate for a long time. I find Lemberg's use of gender as a spectrum as fascinating, especially in how it's officially adopted through public display of jewellery tokens, even though, I connected personally more to Lilún through their neurodivergence.
I adored 'The Four Profound Leaves' but I was also frustrated by it. I enjoyed 'The Unbalancing' but to a lesser degree. I didn't adore it but I also wasn't frustrated by it. It's much more accessible and that proved to be both a good and a bad thing. I'm eager to see what Lemberg comes up with next.
Originally posted at the Nameless Zine in January 2023:
https://www.thenamelesszine.org/Books...
Index of all my Nameless Zine reviews:
https://books.apocalypselaterempire.com/
Well, that's exactly what 'The Unbalancing' is. It's not a long novel, but it's certainly longer than a novella, and it's far more grounded, spending its entire time in the islands of Gelle-Geu—which I'd pronounce with two soft Gs, possibly inappropriately—with a primary plot that unfolds relatively consistently from beginning to end. It's a further 'Birdverse' book with another pair of admirably atypical lead characters and some of the mystical elements return, such as the use of deepnames, mental constructs used for magical purposes. These remain unexplained, though they are subject to the laws of mathematics, which explorations I found fascinating, and serve mostly as an obvious representation of power. You're powerful if you have one deepname and each additional one lifts you in the power hierarchy.
At heart, this is a tragedy a thousand years in the making, because the star anchored in the water off the Gelle-Geu islands, that brings it life and safety, has become unstable and is likely to fail at any point. Already there are earthquakes and they're getting worse. The islands are facing total disaster and a new starkeeper is elected to make a difference, Ranra Kekeri by name, but it soon becomes clear to her that what's needed was needed a long time ago and her predecessors have not left her in an enviable position, possibly not even a tenable one.
She's a fascinating character, a go-getter with three deepnames who is eager to become a solution to whatever problems have been left for her to clean up. She's female, notably so because gender is a spectrum in the Birdverse, so pronouns are not simple—Lemberg neatly avoids complications on that front by narrating in the first person, even though they alternate between two characters again. Ranra is open with her relationships and isn't gender-specific in her choices, which, through Lemberg's capable character building, makes her seem free and confident rather than horny and promiscuous.
It's an important aspect to her character because of how it impacts her ability to get things done. She has an ensemble of advisors, a number of whom she's slept with and might make assumptions as to what their relationship means. Above all, it flavours her most important relationship, which is with Erígra Lilún, the other key character here, who's even more fascinating than she is, one of my favourite characters in recent fiction. The biggest success of this book is in how the two are so fundamentally different yet connect in very believable ways.
Lilún is a poet who's clearly neurodiverse. While Ranra flourishes in social situations, Lilún avoids them with a passion, spending most of their time tending the garden on Semberí's Hill, which is so secluded that it's actually not visible to anyone else except the ghost who lends it its name. He is the gentleman who brought the star to the islands a thousand years ago and he's emphatic about how Lilún should become starkeeper in order to soothe it and restore stability before it's too late. That's not how Lilún sees it, though, and their courteous friendship becomes a little fractious.
Of course, Semberí is kind of an expert on this front and it would behoove both Ranra and Lilún to listen to him, but also for them to read a little deeper as to what must actually be done. As I stated earlier, this is a tragedy at heart but one with hope. It's about how all things must eventually end and yet also become new beginnings. Both Lilún and especially Ranra are too wrapped up in their own interpretations of what's going on to acknowledge the true reality of it and Semberí, even if he's introduced as a wise all-knowing ghost, has flawed perspective too. I love how that plays out.
I have to confess that I'm of two minds about my wish for a more grounded 'Birdverse' book.
This is not far from what I was hoping for in the closing remarks in my review of 'The Four Profound Weaves' and there's much to praise about the single setting and strong focus on one fundamental plot strand. It certainly makes this book far more accessible than its predecessor and, while both are standalones, this would be the best choice to start with if you're interested in diving into this universe.
However, I found this a little less lyrical and poetic than the previous book and that stripped some of the magic so obvious in 'The Four Profound Weaves' away from this story and I missed that. With it gone, I enjoyed this more for its characters than its prose and not the primary two leads alone, though which others I appreciated most depended on where I was on the book. I felt far closer to both Ranra and Lilún than anyone last time out, but I didn't feel the need to read this one aloud to myself to hear the majesty of the prose.
At least the grounding gives Lemberg the ability to expand the Birdverse a little, in ways that are reminiscent of Ursula K. LeGuin and I'm hoping to see a lot more of. In particular, Lilún is without a gender, because that's something that people decide on in this universe when they feel strongly enough to choose one. It has nothing at all to do with biological parts and Lilún has been celibate for a long time. I find Lemberg's use of gender as a spectrum as fascinating, especially in how it's officially adopted through public display of jewellery tokens, even though, I connected personally more to Lilún through their neurodivergence.
I adored 'The Four Profound Leaves' but I was also frustrated by it. I enjoyed 'The Unbalancing' but to a lesser degree. I didn't adore it but I also wasn't frustrated by it. It's much more accessible and that proved to be both a good and a bad thing. I'm eager to see what Lemberg comes up with next.
Originally posted at the Nameless Zine in January 2023:
https://www.thenamelesszine.org/Books...
Index of all my Nameless Zine reviews:
https://books.apocalypselaterempire.com/
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