I might have stopped blogging on EGE, but I've been doing these reports so long (and even before the blog), that it seemed a shame to stop. So.

My reading has definitely slowed up a whole lot this year. I'm doing my best to roll with that and have been mostly successful, especially since I don't have to worry about reviewing for EGE. It does mean that my TBR pile is creeping up again, especially with an influx of library books lately.

Mt TBR Status

Mt TBR @ 1 January 2022: 360
Mt TBR @ 30 April 2022: 390
Mt TBR @ 31 May 2022: 396

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April was largely focused on the Magical Readathon. I read a fair bit of non-fiction, which slowed me down, but this was counterbalanced by the motivation of the readathon.

Mt TBR Status

Mt TBR @ 1 January 2022: 360
Mt TBR @ 31 March 2022: 396
Mt TBR @ 30 April 2022: 390

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February was the month of short: two short story collections, a book of short poems and a couple of novellas. Perhaps that’s fitting for a short month.

My reading has continued to be slower this year than it used to be. I’m doing my best to roll with it, but it trips up my planning from time to time.

Mt TBR Status

Mt TBR @ 1 January 2022: 360
Mt TBR @ 31 January 2022: 388
Mt TBR @ 28 February 2022: 389

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Happy New Year! I hope those of you celebrating had wonderful holidays.

With another year’s reading wrapped up, I find myself pondering the changes to my annual reading totals over time. 2021 was my sixteenth year of gathering data. Prior to 2015 (which was my first full year of running the Earl Grey Editing blog), I wasn’t consistently reading more than 100 books. Starting the blog almost doubled the previous year’s total. 2016-2019 stats were influenced by judging for the Aurealis Awards, which is what consistently pushed my annual reading totals into triple digits.

2020 was a year without judging and largely without reviewing. Even without these factors, I still managed to read 169 books. This gives more weight to my feeling that judging has permanently changed the way I read.

2021 seems to have played out a little differently. While I have once again managed to reach triple digits, the final total wasn’t quite as high as I’d expected. One difference to last year was that I was reviewing, but while this has surely pushed up the total somewhat, it didn’t entirely counter the lulls. This was particularly the case towards the end of the year. It’s hard to say whether stress was a factor or whether this is simply part of a new pattern to my reading. After all, continual growth is not sustainable. Perhaps 2022 will shed some light.

Mt TBR Status

Mt TBR @ 1 January 2021: 426
Mt TBR @ 30 November 2021: 361
Mt TBR @ 31 December 2021: 360

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( Acquisitions )

( Reading Goals )

November proved yet another very slow reading month. However, this was offset by some serious unhauling of my Mt TBR. I’m hoping to squeeze in some more sorting so that I can go into the new year with more of a mound than a mountain. Or at least a mountain instead of a mountain range.

Mt TBR Status

Mt TBR @ 1 January 2021: 426
Mt TBR @ 31 October 2021: 393
Mt TBR @ 30 October 2021: 361


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Juliet Marillier has long been a favourite of mine, mostly thanks to her deft blending of magic, fairytale and history. Of all her books, the Blackthorn and Grim trilogy have been my favourite, so I was delighted when she released a new series about the children of the eponymous couple.

Liobhan and Brocc are students at Swan Island, a hidden community of warriors and spies. Competition for graduate positions is fierce, with most of the cohort failing and being sent home. However, the siblings are talented and have a good chance at being accepted. Nevertheless, they are surprised when their teachers request they undertake a mission; their talents as musicians make them ideal candidates to track down the missing Harp of Kings.

The Harp of Kings brings together several of Marillier’s older series. There are direct references to the Sevenwaters and Wolfskin series, plus of course Blackthorn and Grim. You don’t need to have read any of these before The Harp of Kings, though I think it helps to have read Blackthorn and Grim. Not only does it provide context about the parentage of Liobhan and Brocc, but it also has the strongest stylistic influence.

For example, as with the previous series, this book is told in first person, with the point of view alternating between three characters: Liobhan, Brocc and their fellow student Dau. Marillier has mentioned before that she’d hoped to continue writing more of Blackthorn and Grim after the final book in their trilogy, Den of Wolves (indeed, the conclusion of that book suffered somewhat from feeling rushed). While she hasn’t been afforded that opportunity, the characters of Blackthorn, Grim and (redacted) map rather neatly onto the POV characters in The Harp of Kings.

Liobhan is a woman in a male-dominated field and is the only female candidate to Swan Island among her cohort. She’s been brought up by her feminist mother to know her own value. Hungry for success, she fights hard and is good at what she does. Her confidence can be misinterpreted as cockiness, and indeed, if she were a male character I might enjoy seeing her get her comeuppance. Instead, her battle with her temper in the face of the patriarchy makes her all the more sympathetic. And fighting is not all she does; her skills as a musician are highly valued. Nor is she afraid to show her vulnerability.

Her brother, Brocc, is less warrior and more bard. It is clear from early on that he’s only on Swan Island for his sister; his heart lies more truly with his music, his head in the clouds. He doesn’t desire power, but misses home.

The final POV character is Dau, a fellow student and rival of Liobhan’s. Being brought up more traditionally, he harbours some sexist views and tries to convince Liobhan to give up fighting in favour of the more feminine pursuit of music. His voice is more distinct, tending towards the factual and detached, though this softens along with his character — and indeed with our view of him as we come to learn more of his backstory.

The story’s premise also owes something to the parent trilogy, which often involved the investigation of some mystery that most likely has some kind of supernatural element. As with many of the author’s works, the fae have a strong presence, though it’s not always recognised immediately. Other common signature elements present include dogs and herbalism.

I would give a content warning on this book for cruelty to animals, bullying and sexual assault.

I’m not sure how I feel about the continued presence of sexual assault in Marillier’s work. The incident in The Harp of Kings certainly could have been much worse, and is a far cry from the rape that took place in the first of the Sevenwaters books, Daughter of the Forest. And it is important to acknowledge the existence of such incidents, particularly as they relate to the themes of female powerlessness and feminism present in this book and its parent trilogy. However, I’m not fond of their reoccurrence across the author’s body of work.

The book also doesn’t do much with diversity on any spectrum. While Dau masquerades as mute farrier’s apprentice for much of the story, his muteness is mostly for plot purposes and is discarded when it doesn’t serve. The story doesn’t really delve into the lived experience of permanently being that way.

However, on the whole, I enjoyed The Harp of Kings. It served up exactly what long-time fans of Marillier have come to expect, and will appeal to readers who will appreciate badass lady warriors and historical fairytales.

Today has not gone to plan. A weather change is coming through, leaving me in a significant amount of pain. I need to start making dinner in an hour and the kitchen is still a disaster from yesterday. The dog is whining to be taken for a walk (again). And I’ve been trying to write this review all day; I need to get some words down so that it doesn’t become yet another task piled on tomorrow’s list. In the midst of all this chaos, A Psalm for the Wild-built by Becky Chambers is a book I can turn to for comfort.

Sibling Dex is a tea monk in service to the God of Small Comforts. They ride around the moon of Panga listening to the problems of others and dispensing tea and permission to take a quiet moment. They have worked very hard to be good at what they do and are recognised for their efforts. But even though they have a good life, they remain unsatisfied. On a whim, they leave the area of Panga settled by humans and strike out into the wilderness. There they encounter the first robot seen by humans in centuries.

A Psalm for the Wild-built is a novella that fits squarely in the genre of solarpunk. This is perhaps most obvious in the setting and worldbuilding. Like most solarpunk, it is set in a world that was heading towards ecological catastrophe but managed to pull back from the brink and develop more sustainable ways. Sibling Dex starts in the one city left on Panga. There’s greenery and solar panels everywhere, while the buildings are made of biodegradable materials. This society moved away from fossil fuels, so there’s nary a car in sight; Sibling Dex tours the countryside on a bike with an electric motor, towing a wooden caravan. While we don’t see a lot of the small towns Dex regularly visits, the impression is given that each of these has found their own unique way of living, adapted to their particular landscape. Chambers once again shows her mastery by giving us enough worldbuilding for the place to feel interesting and lived in, but not enough so that we feel like we have seen it all and thus leaving room for the rest of the series.

However, solarpunk is about more than just setting, it is about hope. A Psalm for the Wild-built hits this even before the story has started, with the dedication reading “For anybody who could use a break.” If that sounds relatable, so will many of the other problems you find in this story. They range from the mundane (like forgetting to put out a towel before getting in the shower) to the significant (messing up the first day at a new job) to the existential (feeling like you have no purpose in life). These are not high conflict problems but are still shown to be important and made Dex a very sympathetic character. Their journey through these problems shows them to be fallible and there’s comfort in knowing that if this person — who surely seems from the outside to have their life together and who offers needed respite to others — can face these things and find a way through, then perhaps I can too. They also show that we can all use a break from time to time.
Much of the solace and wisdom offered to Dex comes from the robot Mosscap. In her previous work, Chambers has shown a knack for making alien species seem at once both truly alien and yet also relatable. In A Psalm for the Wild-built, she uses that skill for her robot, allowing her to tackle head-on some common stereotypes regarding robots that frequently show up in science fiction. Via Dex’s misunderstandings, she’s able to point out how these stereotypes perhaps haven’t been thought through particularly well and instead offering a smarter and more compassionate alternative.

For a novella, it packs in a lot and I could spend several thousand more words discussing it (I haven’t even started on the intersection between Zen Buddhist and Indigenous perspectives). Instead, it suffices to say that A Psalm for the Wild-built is a smart and compassionate tale that will reward rereading. It’s a reminder to take a break that I highly recommend.

The more I read, the more I want to read. Which is to say that Mt TBR keeps slowly creeping upward.

It was an interesting mix of stuff this month. There’s fanfic alongside some heavier philosophy and memoir. A couple of Lodestar nominees. And I seem to be on a bit of an audio binge.

Mt TBR Status

Mt TBR @ 1 January 2021: 426
Mt TBR @ 30 June 2021: 423
Mt TBR @ 31 July 2021: 428


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There has been some delightful fantasy romance coming out of New Zealand recently. Last year’s WorldCon brought The Lord of Stariel to my attention and I’m very glad it did.

Hetta Valstar is not a respectable woman in the strictest sense. After all, she has magic: both illusion and pyromancy, the former of which she puts to use in special effects at the theatre where she’s employed. She wears red lipstick, carries her own luggage and likes to flirt (and sometimes more than flirt). Nevertheless, when her father dies, she returns home to Stariel, the family’s country estate, for the funeral. She must also participate in the ritual to determine the next Lord of Stariel. Most of the family expects Hetta’s eldest brother, Marcus, to inherit, or else her cousin, the former Lord Stariel’s preferred heir. But it is the land itself that gets to choose.

Of course, it chooses Hetta. Chaos ensues.

The Lord of Stariel is a charming story, with a 1920s vibe. Hetta herself reminds me somewhat of Miss Fisher: feminine, independent, capable and a low tolerance for sexism and patriarchal nonsense. Naturally, I loved her immediately.

I also enjoyed the way in which Hetta must come to terms with the life she has to give up, which she liked and wasn’t prepared to leave. Given the unpredictability of the last year or so, I suspect many will be able to relate.

The story is essentially a manor house mystery, although not a murder, despite starting with a death. To say more would be to spoil the story, so instead I shall say that the death brings together a reasonably large cast in the family. There’s a wonderful balance here between family conflict and genuine affection. I particularly enjoyed the warm relationship Hetta has with her brother Marius and the way it is troubled by the secrets being kept. I also appreciated that Hetta gets along with her stepfamily, despite she and her stepmother being rather different people. And although Hetta’s relationship with her cousin Jack isn’t always the smoothest, it is clear that Hetta understands and accepts (to some degree) the reasons why. Her aunt brings a stronger note of discordance with her strict notions of propriety and her outrage when Jack does not inherit Stariel.

Although a large part of the story is about family, that’s not all there is. On Hetta’s return, she finds that the gangly serving boy she had befriended as a child and written to steadily over the years has turned into a very handsome butler. Wyn is thoughful and charming, except when he’s avoiding Hetta. Nor is he the only handsome man around. Hetta’s childhood crush has become the lord of the neighbouring property and is paying attention now that Hetta is a grown woman.

Looming over all of this is the immanent threat of the fae descending on Stariel, now that the King of the Fae has found a way out of the faerie world. The Lord of Stariel needs to step forward and protect the land.

The pacing is perhaps a touch slow in places, as the various threads are being laid in place, but it does make space for some lovely moments of connection between the various characters.

So, if you’re looking for something reasonably light and charming to combat these dark times, The Lord of Stariel may be the book for you.

Last month, I mentioned I was trying a new approach to my TBR, recommended by Sandstone. Safe to say it has been very effective. This was probably also helped by some improvements in my health.

Mt TBR Status

Mt TBR @ 1 January 2021: 426
Mt TBR @ 31 March 2021: 425
Mt TBR @ 30 April 2021: 416


( Items Read )

( Aquisitions )