The Silver Bullet, and Other American Witch Stories by Hubert J. Davis

A selection of folktales gathered in the 1930s. A number of people claimed to have been the actual victims, others to know the people involved. A number are just told without a connection. Two are recognizable fairy tales.

It has sections about how to become a witch, how they worked, how to counter them, and tales of their witchery for money or mischief. Many references to witch doctors (or white witches).

A Memory Called Empire left me in such a place that I of course had to rush after the sequel, A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine. In the second book of this duology, we're tackling the bomb dropped at the end of the last book: that a hostile alien force has been picking at the borders of Teixcalaanli space.

This became a first contact story, which delighted me, because I love first contact stories. The book posits another interesting philosophical question to the readers. Darj Tarats wants Teixcalaan to go to war with these new aliens, because it would likely drag on for quite some time, sucking up Teixcalaan's resources and keeping them focused on something other than colonizing Lsel Station, and might even destroy them in the end. Mahit does not want Teixcalaan to go to war with these new aliens because it would be an unnecessary and vast loss of life on both sides, and because in spite of its nature as an empire, there's so much Mahit likes about Teixcalaan, even though peace allows Teixcalaan much more time and resources to potentially conquer Mahit's home.

Book 2 breaks into a mulit-POV style, which works very well I think for giving us a 3D view of the situation when first contact is made and what happens after. Emotions, naturally, are running very high on all sides, so getting to see many characters' thoughts is helpful to understanding this house of cards.

Martine does a great job I think of presenting us with aliens that are alien, but still people. The question is whether they and the Teixcalaanli can work that out before someone does something fearful.

She also does well with layering Mahit and Yskander here. There are a few conversations Mahit has that hit so much harder now that we have a full picture of Yskander and how long the ambassador to Teixcalaan has been kicked around the Lsel council like a football as they all pursue their own best course for keeping away from Teixcalaan. Knowing that that fragment of Yskander is there, seeing the fallout of his own death and how it came about makes these conversations especially powerful.

The story is laid out gradually and builds to a believable conclusion. The ending is slightly abrupt--there's not really any denouement--but it didn't shortchange the story. 

One of the perspectives we see in this book is imperial heir Eight Antidote, now 11. And he's either quite precocious, or Six Direction was a genius, which is possible. This kid's a regular Johnny-on-the-spot, but he is also a narrative tool representing a very different future for Teixcalaan than Emperor Nineteen Adze represents. He is Six Direction unencumbered by years of war and politicking; he is Six Direction without the grim, dog-eat-dog-world attitude of an adult raised by Empire. But he's also young and vulnerable; he represents a Teixcalaan that could be--but also one that could so easily be smothered in its crib, a fate Nineteen Adze is desperate to avoid.

Mahit and Three Seagrass continue to struggle, even more than in the last book, with the nature of their relationship. Three Seagrass is pure Teixcalaanli, and can frequently be insulting without meaning to, but Mahit is also primed by years of Teixcalaan's cultural chauvinism to see insult even where none was intended. I felt like they landed, by the end of the book, somewhere believable--although I would absolutely read more about them if Martine was offering!

I didn't notice this book having the issue with repetition that I found in book 1, so that was a nice improvement as well.

I was worried at the end of the last book how the story would handle this shocking, massive plot drop, but I think Martine did it very gracefully. It feels like a natural continuation of book 1 while still expanding the focus of the story. I would love to see more of this universe, but I'm also satisfied with where we've left things. There are no easy answers to what to do about Teixcalaan, but that doesn't feel unrealistic either. Well done all around!

Bones rules; or, Skeleton of English grammar by John B. Tabb

Turn-of-the-last-century grammar lessons. Basic, sound grammar, with some additional interest in his choices of sentences to analyze. Many from poems, and with some interesting placing of the parts of a sentence.

He does note that any word can be used as a verb, even then.

I finished my second Sarah Waters book this week after devouring most of it on my flight to Texas and she has surely done it again! This book was Affinity, a much less-talked about one of her novels, which concerns Victorian lady Margaret Prior, who in an effort to overcome her grief for her recently deceased father and a mysterious illness that gripped her around that time, decides to become a "Lady Visitor" to a women's prison: someone who comes to talk with them from time-to-time. She almost immediately becomes enraptured with a young medium, Selina Dawes, doing time for murder and assault. 

I don't usually like to do extensive summaries in these reviews, but I want to highlight what USA Today called "thinly veiled erotica" in this book. This book is best approached, I think, with a measure of dream logic (or porn logic, if you prefer), where things can be deeply erotic in concept that in real life would certainly not be. Nothing illustrates this better than the opening chapter of the book.

In the opening chapter, Margaret makes her first visit to Millbank prison. Waters does an excellent job of making the prison itself a terror; a winding maze of whitewashed, identical hallways inside a cocoon of pentagonal buildings set unsteadily into the marshy bank of the Thames within which Margaret immediately becomes turned around. She is passed from the gentleman family friend who first suggested she become a Lady Visitor to the matrons of the women's side of the prison, a realm populated entirely by women. As Margaret passes into this self-contained place which feels entirely removed from the rest of the world (the prisoners are allowed to send correspondence four times a year) she becomes keenly aware of the strange blurring and even erasure of the boundaries, rules, and customs of the outside world. Furthermore, Margaret is reassured over and over again that she is, effectively, in a position of power over all these vulnerable women, trapped in their cells and subject to the harsh rules of Millbank. The prison fully intends for Margaret to be someone for them to idolize and look up to, someone whose attention can make them strive to better themselves. Margaret, a repressed Victorian lesbian, is dropped into this strange realm of only women in which she operates above the rules that strictly govern the rest of them. 

It is in this state, after this long journey through Millbank, that Margaret first catches sight of Selina Dawes, and is taken from the start.

The book is not heavy on plot, and some reviewers have called it dull, but I was riveted. The plot is the development of Margaret and Selina's relationship, and the progress of Margaret's mindset on the question of whether Selina's powers or real, or if she's just a very talented con artist. These are by nature things which progress gradually. Practically, it's true that not much happens: Margaret visits the prison. Margaret goes to the library. Margaret has a disagreement with her mother. But her mental and emotional changes across the book are significant. 

There are also the vibes. Waters does such a good job of capturing a very gloomy, gothic atmosphere where Margaret (and the reader!) are constantly sort of questioning what's real and to what degree and there's a powerful sense of unease that permeates the entire story. It ties in so well with Selina's role as a spiritual medium and the Victorian obsession with such things; it creates a very holistic theme and feel to the book that I just sank into.

On the flip side of the erotic view of the prison we see early in the book, Waters also uses it to terrifying effect to simulate the paranoia of a closeted gay person at this time in England. As Margaret's feelings for Selina develop and become more explicit, she lives in terror that the matrons of the prison will realize that her interest in Selina is not the polite interest of a Lady Visitor in her charges. She is always analyzing what the matrons can see in her interactions with Selina and what might go under the radar; she is constantly wondering if rude comments or looks from this matron or that is simple rudeness, or a veiled accusation of impropriety. The panopticon pulses around Margaret more and more but she can't keep away from Selina even to protect herself from the danger of being caught.

On the whole, I thought this book was fantastic. I enjoyed it even more than Fingersmith. Waters was really cooking here and I've added several more of her books to my TBR, because she obviously knows what she's doing.