The Privilege of the Sword Revisited - the audiobook

I’ve just finished listening to the Privilege of the Sword’s audiobook and even though I already reviewed the book back in 2012 there are some new (and old) considerations I’d like to make.  

First of all, the production is amazing. It’s part of the “Neil Gaiman’s presents” audiobook label and because of that it’s been given the luxury treatment. First class dramatizations, original soundtrack, sound effects, the works. I mostly appreciated one of the two main narrators, Barbara Rosenblat, who I’m only after realising played freaking Rosa in Orange is the New Black! O M G. According to Neil, she’s the Meryl Streep of the audiobook world and I can see why. She’s got this beautiful, deep, rich voice that suits both men and women, and it just makes you feel you’re in safe hands. All you need to do is let her voice paint the words in your head and enjoy the ride. Ellen Kushner narrates the parts in first person, from Katherine’s point of view, and that works well too. Although I was expecting more dramatized scenes, like in Swordspoint. Felicia Day plays Katherine and I wish she had done more. You sort of forget she’s supposed to play her, until every now and then you hear her voice reading a letter or saying a couple of lines. That’s the only disappointing thing about this audiobook.

I listened to Swordspoint first, which meant I had now a better understanding of the mad Duke and his relationship with St Vier, which definitely added layers to his story. But as much as I enjoyed the first book and as much as I missed the scheming Duchess Tremontaine, my interest is all for Katherine. I can never have enough of her awesomeness and I really wish Kushner wrote more books about her. It feels like we’ve barely started to know her when the book ends.

This time around I didn’t notice the flaws in the writing style as when I read the book. I don’t know if I was particularly harsh the first time around but in the audiobook format the writing just flows naturally and I was never bothered by it.

And this time I did feel the romance between Katherine and Marcus. It felt like a beautiful and natural continuation of their friendship. And Marcus is such a wonderful person and a perfect match for Katherine in every sense, how could I not see this before. I was probably hoping Katherine’s bisexuality would steer her toward a girl, but there weren’t any available, really. Artemisia is not right for her, and the Black Rose, as much as I wish she could be, isn’t interested in a teenager with a crush on her.

Aside from my new perspectives, I enjoyed it just as much as the first time. I still think Katherine's character development is wonderful. I love that she shows her age in her complete idealism, in her love for drama and tragedy, and in her undying will to defend women's honor to the death, but also in her love for mishief and adventures. I love that she's shown loving aspects of both the women and the men's world. She still love all her gowns and frills and laces, but she also loves swordfighting and swashbucking, and sneaking out with Marcus, keeping secrets from the Duke and generally getting up to no good. 

I wish there was more fanfiction about Katherine. There’s plenty about Alec and Richard, but virtually none about Katherine and whoever (I’m not picky. Even just Katherine would be fine). Or maybe I don't know where to look? Anyone care to direct me toward them?

I already miss her and everyone else and I really wish it had been double the length. 

Carol by Patricia Highsmith VS Odd Girl Out by Ann Bannon

Somehow I have found myself reading two lesbian novels written in the ‘50s one after the other. I had both Ann Bannon’s and Patricia Highsmith’s books under my radar for quite some time, but only the news recently come to my attention that a movie based on Carol was coming out soon prompted me to finally read it (or listen to it, rather). After Carol, I craved more lesbian fiction and I turned to Ann Bannon. Both books being published in the same era, only few years apart – Carol in 1952 and Odd Girl Out in 1957, they ask to be compared to each other.

Now, I don’t know how strict the publishers were at the time when they were asked by the Censorship to avoid any positive final outcome of lesbian and gay relationships, but somehow Carol, or the Price of Salt as it was originally named, managed to overcome those limitations and get away with a relatively happy ending. It’s well known for that, unfortunately. I say unfortunately because I have the feeling I would have appreciated the ending more if I hadn’t known that. As it happens, I did, and I wish it had been happier. But I had little or no knowledge of how the lesbian fiction of the time was, so of course I didn’t have any terms of comparison. Now I have read another one, Odd Girl Out, and compared to it, it seems like a celebration of all things lesbians, of EVERLASTING and TRUE LESBIAN LOVE. It’s even more surprising, knowing that it was published five years earlier than Ann Bannon’s novel. Could it be that its New York setting made it more permissive or more realistically open to different kinds of love than the conservative microcosm of a Midwestern University? Perhaps, but for whatever reason the two books are strikingly different.

Carol is the story of Therese, a 19-year-old stage designer who, at the beginning of the story, is working in a department store for some extra cash at Christmas, and of Carol, a charming woman in her '30s, about to get a divorce. One day Carol comes to Therese's desk to buy a doll for her daughter and Therese quite literally falls in love with her at first sight. She sends her a Christmas card later and Carol replies by inviting her out for coffee. They start an intimate friendship that later on becomes a love affair. There are complications though, as Carol is going through a divorce and the husband is not ready to let go of their daughter’s custody without a fight.

I enjoyed the writing in Carol. It’s quite beautiful and perceptive. The story is as much about Therese’s complete entrancement with Carol as about Therese’s struggle to find her place in life. To find meaning and fulfilment.

I loved the age gap between the two women and I was fascinated by Carol as much as Therese was. Their relationship isn’t one between equals, though. Carol has way too much control over Therese and never seems to reciprocate the younger woman’s feelings in equal measure. For a while it seems Therese is merely a distraction, a way of taking her mind away from her bigger problems in her life. She’s guarded and cold, always keeping Therese on the edge, never fully letting her in and embracing their romance without reservations. This was the only reason that kept me from falling in love with the book completely. I wanted to see more passion from Carol. I know it was there, she just never let herself show it. I understand her pain and fear of losing her daughter were clouding her ability to show love to Therese, but it made me weary of her, and I never fully trusted her. I didn’t trust her even if I knew how it was going to end. 

This said I am really excited that Cate Blanchett is playing Carol. She seems perfect for the role and I couldn’t imagine anyone else playing her.

After Carol, I was craving a true, passionate lesbian romance and I turned to Ann Bannon. Ha! Little did I know.

At first, I thought the budding romance between young and timid Laura and confident and charming Beth was really cute. I loved how protective Beth was of Laura, how despite her teasing, she never means to hurt her. This, however, proves to be her biggest mistake. I never fully warmed to Laura, until the end, when she surprised me, by showing how much she has grown and how much Beth had underestimated her. I found Laura throughout the book to be annoying and spoiled and whiney. I liked Beth at first, I liked how sure of herself and fearless she was. But as soon as she starts falling in love with a guy, I started losing interest. This was supposed to be my steamy, forbidden, lesbian story! What was happening? Alas, heteronormative was happening. Of course, Beth hadn’t met the right guy yet. And of course, Charley was finally that right guy. Who tells her that lesbian relationship can only happen during childhood, that women should like men only, otherwise they are refusing to grow up and to accept reality.

Thankfully Laura is having none of this shit. Even though it takes a while for her to stop acting all confused and clueless about who she is. I liked the ending, which is supposedly a bad one for their romance? Except it’s the best ending that I could have asked for. I couldn’t wait for Laura to get rid of Beth. It took her way too long. That ending gives me hope. And it’s the reason why I will keep reading these books, and hopefully, finally, get my steamy, forbidden, lesbian story.

Compared to Carol, there was a lot more talk about how homosexuality is wrong and illegal and how it can stop a woman from growing up. Surprisingly in Carol, Therese never questions herself about her love for Carol. It just happens and she accepts it completely. She might have posed for a moment to consider how society viewed her sexual inclinations, but she never lets them affect her. The only time the issue is raised is by a man, who is speaking out of hurt and disappointment. It’s never raised after that. It’s not Carol and Therese’s concern to judge or hate themselves for what they’re doing, which is beautiful. Of course, there are consequences to pay, because they are still lesbians in the ‘50s, but I loved how self-hate or denial was never even a thing for them.

In Odd Girl Out, the issue is raised again and again. Mostly by men, but also by Beth, who does really think that lesbianism is a thing to outgrow, and by her friend Emmy, who doesn’t even begin to comprehend how a woman could find another woman attractive. ‘What’s there to want?’ she says. But as much as she doesn’t understand it, she doesn’t judge it either.  The only one who isn’t affected by this is Laura, and that’s her redeeming quality. Like Therese, she never questions her feelings, never doubts them and never betrays them. Which is something to admire in both of them.

I probably will never find the passionate, Tipping-the-Velvet kind of romance I want from these books, but I will keep reading them. I love the vintage setting, I love to read lesbian stories that were genuinely written at that time, and I love to see how much they dared, and how much they could get away with.

And hopefully Carol the movie will be as satisfying as that trailer promises to be.

The Paying Guests - Sarah Waters

The Paying Guests gave me an eerie feeling that Sarah Waters had surreptitiously been on my Tumblr and somehow found this short story I had posted a few years ago about the affair between a landlady and her lodger. One of them was even called Lilian! How weird is that. So weird.But also kind of flattering.To think that me and Sarah Waters have had such similar ideas for a story. The main difference is that she set out to write a proper novel about it; I just wrote it for the smut.

So, for most of the book, I enjoyed reading about “my” idea written beautifully and with more complex ideas than just having the two characters shagging each other. I loved the tension between them, the courting, the romance, everything. I loved Frances more than Lilian, but then I liked Lilian because she liked Frances. It was always in the back of my mind the idea that Frances could have done better than Lilian, but until around THE THING happens, I could have lived with it. I could have lived with many things. I didn’t expect this story to go well. We’re talking adultery here. There must be some sort of drama at some point. I was expecting scandal, regret, hurt, jealousy, disillusionment, even the end of the romance. What I wasn’t prepared for was for the novel to turn into a legal case. To have a good third of the book deal with a trial was not what I was looking forward to. I find court cases in movies, TV shows and books extremely boring.  But as it turned out, Sarah Waters loves all that shit and she was actually INSPIRED by murder cases in the ‘20s so much so that she wrote a novel about it.

If only I had read the author’s notes beforehand. But, of course, who does that.  

So, as you might have noticed,I didn’t warn you about spoilers because I think people should be aware of what they’re getting into. There will be a trial for murder, and it will go on until the rest of the book. There, now you know. If you are into that, you’ll love it - because  it’s still Sarah Waters writing, it’s not like she handed it over to John Grisham. If you don’t, well, tough shit. You had more than half of the book to enjoy without dealing with courts and witnesses and body of evidences and verdicts that take ages to arrive. And even if you didn’t get into the romance completely (it did wear thin after a while, to be honest. Because Lilian), you still have the writing. The writing is gorgeous, as usual.

So yay for lesbians. Not so yay for murder case trials. 

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay - Michael Chabon

You know that feeling when you’re in the middle of a book and you’re enjoying it so much and you’re so into it that even when you’re not reading it you’re filled with a sense of purpose and excitement and comfort because you have that to go back to? This is what I felt reading Kavalier and Clay. I’ve finished it now and although I am quite sad to leave the characters I have loved for the last few days (weeks? It’s a long book), I am still lingering on that happy mood.

It’s not that it’s an amazingly cheerful book. It wasn’t the themes of the book that filled me with happiness. It did have its share of grief and regret and loss and abandonment, after all. It was more that I knew I had found a story I cared about, with people I wanted to know and worry for, and love even when they were being idiots. And that made me happy.

It’s about two cousins in New York, who are in their late teens when the story starts, at the beginning of World War II.  Joe Kavalier is a Jew who has left Prague, his hometown, in an extremely dangerous and adventurous fashion to escape Hitler’s persecution, and Sammy Clay (Klayman) is his cousin whom Joe meets when he arrives in Brooklyn. Now, Sammy is a wannabe writer with a head brimful of ideas and Joe is a talented artist who needs to raise a lot of money as soon as possible to save his family. Naturally, in the heyday of comic books and Superman, they team up to create a new kind of hero, The Escapist, who offers the hope of freedom “to all those who toil in the bonds of slavery and the shackles of oppression”. Basically, he fights Nazis.

The core of the story lies, for me, in the bond between the two cousins, the ease in which they both fall into each other’s charms and work to create something iconic and meaningful. Their magic was at its peak when they were together, feeding off each other’s ideas and enthusiasm. Separated, they drifted away. Together, they shone. 

But of course, they all have their demons. For Joe it’s the sense of hopelessness and failure for not being able to do anything for his family, except saving all the money he makes. For Sam it’s the sense of inadequacy that always cripples him; it’s his lack of confidence and appreciation for what he’s brilliant at. And the understandable reluctance at admitting his sexuality even to himself.

I liked both cousins individually and as a pair, but I absolutely ADORE Sammy. Joe is handsome and skilful and broody and confident, but Sammy completely won me over with his awkwardness, his unease in social situations, his big heart and his big emotions, his inherent fragility that made me want to protect him from the evils of the worlds and deliver him to a safe haven of loving care with Tracy Bacon wrapped in a bow for him to enjoy without guilt or shame.

When the THING happens (as there’s always a THING at some point), everything goes to shit. They all make crappy decisions, more shitty things happen and then some more, until I was like will these people be ever happy again and will I ever stop being angry at their nonsensical behaviour. OK, I was mostly angry at Joe, but Sammy also kinda screwed up at some point, even though I tend to be more lenient with his decision.

To my surprise, I did forgive Joe eventually and I did recover some hope for these two and for Rosa. Because yes, there’s also a Rosa, the only main female character worth mentioning (forget about the Bechdel test, just don’t even think about it), whom I did quite like eventually, when she managed to become her own character, and not just a love interest. But she had so much more potential. So Much More. Sigh.

So, yeah, despite the piteous female representation and the fact that I had to look up an average of three words per page because “rich language” doesn’t even begin to cover it, it was totally worth the time and the emotions.

The Privilege of the Sword - Ellen Kushner

Few books make me want to start reading them again as soon as I've finished them. This one did. Of course I finish a lot of books which I've enjoyed immensely but I don't feel the need to turn to page one again, once they're over. With this one, I simply wanted to go over it again, to write down everything I wanted to say about it, all the quotes I wanted to single out, all the exclamation marks I wanted to add.
But if you had asked me ten or even twenty pages in, I would have laughed. The writing style is certainly not the first thing I would praise about this book. Maybe I don't read enough popular fiction to be accustomed to this kind of unpolished writing, but at first I was shocked, and also slightly amused, at the bluntly lack of elegance in the prose. The best side of it is that it's not even remotely trying to be a well-written book. It wants to be a hugely fun and entertaining read, and it certainly succeeds at that. The writing style is the only negative comment you're going to read about it here. There rest is all going to be like "asdfasdfghgfdssasdsa OMG ALL THE FEELS YOU HAVE TO READ THIS sdfgdsasdfds omg". So now you're warned, we can keep going.

The reason why I decided to read it in the first place is Memory's glowing review. At that time I was still working in the bookshop and this book was on sale, so I bought it. This is how long it takes me to read books, yes... So anyway, I read it this summer and (here we go) asdfdsdfgsaddsaasdsasdfghjk I loved it so much. Where do I even start?
The characters. So lovable and funny and well rounded, I really didn't want to leave them. Especially Katherine. What a character development she's had. I never thought I would love her so much at first. But she slowly turns into one of my favourite literary heroes ever. She's just like who I wanted to be when I was little, when I pretended I was Wonder Woman, saving the unfortunate and defeating the villains. She's definitely earned a place in the my Olympus of female heroes. She cracked me up with her delightful mix of defiant attitude, romantic ideals and natural disposition to despise (and fight) every injustice. I can't tell you enough how much I loved her.

Then there's Marcus and his friendship with Katherine. I never really saw them as a proper couple. For me they're always going to be BFF, constantly up to mischief and adventures. I wish there was an extended version of this book with extra bits dedicated to their wondering in the city and getting into all sorts of trouble.

The Duke, I still haven't mentioned the Duke. He's not a villain per se, but he's not really the nicest guy around either. You learn to love him for all his faults and his attitude, and without him the book wouldn't be what it is. He's called the Mad Duke for a reason, and I believe there's a lot I don't know about him, in a previous book in the same series. But I think I can sum it up nicely with one single quote:

"I do not make the rules" he said creamily. "This annoys me, and so I comfort myself by breaking them."

He's the quintessential decadent nobleman, who loves to hold orgies and lavish parties, but who has a secret wounded heart which he conceals behind a facade of sarcasm and wit.

The Black Rose. Another character I would read a whole book about, happily. A mysterious, beautiful actress who plays the main part in the theatre adaptation of Katherine and her friend Artemisia's favourite book. They both unashamedly fangirl about her and her acting, and I found myself grinning when I recognised the signs:

I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep me from squeaking out loud. As it was, I began moving my lips along with the lines. I knew them all, from the opening chapter of my favourite book.

and also

The Black Rose swept back onstage, glowing with tragic dignity. Her magnificent bosom swelled as she took a deep breath and bowed low to the crowd. The girl behind me started gasping, "I'll die, I'll die... Oh just hold me! Isn't she fine? I've written her a dozen letters, but she never answers."

[Those who follow me on Tumblr would know who I think the Black Rose looks like in my head...]

The Black Rose and the effects she has on Katherine - a proper, sudden, sexual awakening - made me have high expectations for Katherine. There is a lot of teasing on that front, but, alas, it wasn't developed as much as I would have wanted. Although her jealousy for the Black Rose towards the Duke made me smile more than once. Why do you tease us so, Ms Kushner?

More things I loved about this book: The relationship between Katherine and Artemisia. How they both reenact their favourite book, choosing to be its characters in the secret letters they write to each other (Katherine being the male hero and Artemisia his lover), and how real and full of meaning all of it is for them. They're not playing, they're both very serious in their intentions, but they're still teenagers and the way they write, their embellished and overly dramatic language is endearing to the point that I wanted to screech and squish both of them.

And then there's the important theme of violence against women. I haven't mentioned it's set in a romanticised past, similar maybe to 18th century Europe, with swordsmen, aristocracy and a serious lack of women's rights. It's in this context that the violence and the subsequent victim-blaming takes place. Unfortunately it's all very relevant today, but I loved how it was dealt. How Katherine is unequivocally the champion of wronged women and won't accept any other truth. How, even in her naivety of how her world works, she knows instinctively which sides she's on.

Is this enough to make you want to read it? I haven't said much about what the story is about, partly because I'm lazy and just wanted to gush about how much I loved this book, and partly because I didn't want to spoil it too much. Also, if you really want to know, there's Amazon and its clones to do that job.

The haidresser of Harare - Tendai Huebu

This is the story of Vimbai - the best hairdresser at her salon - and her unlikely friendship with Dumisani, a young and charming man, who has more than a secret to keep.
At the beginning of the story, told in first person by Vimbai, she is the queen bee of her salon. Its business depends on her and she knows it. She's an independent, young woman who is rearing a daughter on her own, while her family has turned her back on her and the father of her child doesn't have any intentions to take on his responsibilities. Then one day her life is turned upside down by the arrival at the salon of Dumisani. He claims to be a hairdresser and ask for a job, but it would have been just as surprising if he had said he was from Mars. A male hairdresser is not something these women have ever heard of. But he proves himself in practice, revealing a rare talent and a irresistible charisma with the customers. In fact, he is so gifted that he steals Vimbai's spotlight.
She initially hates him for that, but he is a very hard person to hate and quickly he wins her over, too.

It's not hard for the reader to guess what Dumisani's secret is, but our narrator Vimbai is completely oblivious. We follow her as she goes through life in Harare, dreaming of opening her own salon, praying at her Pentecostal church, and trying to make sense of this new strange and confusing friendship with Dumisani. It's easy to get sucked into her story, but as it progresses you can't help but brace yourself for the inevitable crash that the truth will cause.

I enjoyed this little book. I loved learning about life in Zimbabwe because before reading this I knew next to nothing about it. Now I feel like a caught a vivid glimpse of what it is like living there. It seems similar to Europe during and after the wars. It's chaotic. Its rulers struggle to keep order, shops are empty and food must be bought at the black market, the inflation is over the roof so money is exchanged by weight, battle squads beat up anyone who voices a dissent. Not an easy place to be in, definitely. So I have to admire Vimbai for surviving quite well, being her own woman, not letting anyone dictate her life or her decisions.
But I did find her voice to be over-dramatic sometimes.
I liked Dumisani a lot for the most part. But he is flawed too, and I cannot sympathize with how he used and ultimately misled Vimbai. I know why he did it, but I lost a bit of admiration for him. Of course, if I really knew what it means to have a secret like his in Harare, then maybe I'd be more understanding. I don't despise Dumisani, though, for the same reasons I don't despise Vimbai for acting like she did in the end.
It makes the story more realistic, if I can say so, and more human. This is not a fairy tale, or at least not a Disney one. But it's a story that is easy to get into, and has the bonus of being different from what I normally read, set in a real world so far from my own in many ways. So I appreciated it all the more for it.