One time, a friend sent me this quote. I think she found it off Pinterest or something, just a random quote worked up all pretty on a background picture: “Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.”
She said it had made her think. (She made me read Ender’s Game for the same reason. She was always thinking and then dragging me in to think too.)
It made me think, that’s for sure. “You are the result of the love of thousands” comes into my head sometimes, along with this dim, half-visual idea of my ancestors standing in shadowy lines, back and back into oblivion: with me, here, a bright improbable drop of shining, animated dust at the point of the sword, the unlikely result of so many choices and so much love. All of which was never up to me. (Then I usually fade away into musings on Chesterton’s “democracy of the dead,” but that’s irrelevant here.)
This book brought that vividly to mind.
What makes Pet special? It’s her parents. It’s their choices that gave her—not everything she has, but the ability to have it at all. She’s different not because of herself, but because of what her parents did and gave for her.
There’s nothing to do with a gift like that, except be grateful for it and make flamin’ sure you don’t waste it.
I had very mixed feelings on this book the first time around. I loved that part, and I both loved and hated the way W. R. Gingell made good on previous books’ promises. I should have known she would; I’ve read enough of her books by now to know she is, above all, honest with her characters. The reveal in this book is honest: no band-aids over gaping wounds, no pretending people aren’t exactly what they are. But I would have been okay with a little pretense. I would have been okay if we’d taken book 7’s explanation and left it there. I respect so much that she didn’t, but also there are still more explanations needed, and the last two books had better provide them.
Also, the first time through, I didn’t like the sirens plotline, was annoyed by Athelas’s “ClickClock” joke and even Zero’s distaste for lip-synching, and definitely didn’t appreciate JinYeong being all proof against the sirens’ wiles simply because he’s so stubborn about the fact that he’s more beautiful than them and he won’t let them be more beautiful than him. I mean it is funny, yes. And kind of…touchingly childlike? JinYeong is touchingly childlike in many ways. It just annoyed me, though. Maybe it still did this time around, a little.
I don’t know why I didn’t like the sirens plotline, though. It’s good. The climax at the nest is gorgeously atmospheric and sharp with danger. Pet actually gets hurt; you feel the first touch of things heating up out of control, even out of the control of Zero. I know Abigail and her group are the least interesting group of characters in the series for me (though I’m fond of Ezri and her cricket bat; it’s perfect that she’s the one besides JinYeong who calls Athelas “old man”), and that that’s part of why books 6-8 aren’t my favorites. The other part is that I don’t always enjoy the melding of magic with technology, even though it’s clever, and that’s what books 6-8 are all about: 8 most of all, with the sirens being a central plotline.
Mostly, though, this book is possibly one of the best-crafted of the series, though it can’t be my favorite. It…honestly just hurts too much for that.
(Who am I and when did books start giving me emotions. I hate it. Make it stop.)
W. R. Gingell’s writing is deceptively simple. Emphasis on deceptive. And that’s one of the highest compliments I can give.