Tag Archives: #Fey

Flynn, Sabrina; The Broken God (Legends of Fyrsta III) (2016)

Although The Broken God can be read alone, it is better to read A Thread in the Tangle and King’s Folly first.

Some characters hit me harder than others. In The Broken God that was the boy Zoshi. There really isn’t anything unique about Zoshi. He’s just another “street-rat” among many others. Like street-rats everywhere, hunger, homelessness and poverty are his companions.

“The street rat had survived eight years in the docks, and he knew what danger felt like. This was it. All prickling over his body, making his legs want to run.”

We first met Zoshi in King’s Folly. His plight broke my heart. Zoshi’s story in The Broken God is just as difficult for me to read.

“… The light wavered with his shaking. Zoshi gripped his own arm, trying to keep it still. He was falling, he was sure of it, and his stomach had been left at the cave wall.

Tears slipped down his cheeks and piss seeped down his leg – the smell of courage. It was strangely reassuring in the void of time and space. …”

Courage is like that, and I love that Flynn recognizes this. I also love that one of the bravest people in her story is this 8-year old boy who had just been through one terror and now tries to muddle through his another. All alone, except for the dog/mammoth/crow Crumpet.

Marsais is a mess. Being at least 2000 years old and a seer will do that to you. His mind travels all potential futures and “endless hallways of memory“. Keeping track of when he is has become almost impossible. His meddling left one of his stabilizers behind. Isiilde did not get on the ship with him. Marsais may come to regret that decision; but like all meddlers, he feels he has done what needed to be done. At least Oenghus is with him. Oen is a rock. Yet even stone can crack. Being without his daughter has also destabilized him. But both men have seriously underestimated Isiilde.

“Finally,” she said, “you’re treating me like an equal rather than a pet to be indulged. I will not become one of Syre’s pet nymphs and I am no longer yours.”

A nymph fighting for the humans who view her as an animal is a struggle for Isiilde. Lieutenant Rivan is probably the only one of the Sacred Order who does not. He is also the only man, other than her father, who is not distracted by her presence. Unless you count  challenging his faith. Blind faith is a dangerous thing. It is easy to forget that knowledge must have precedence. Rivan viewing Isiilde as equal to humans makes him heretic in the eyes of his Order.  He is not alone in questioning old beliefs. Captain Acacia Mael keeps on learning that what her Order claims does not add up with what she observes.

In the meantime, healer must become warrior again. Morigan, and the rest of the Isle of the Wise, are beset by betrayal and the Fey. The Fey are phantoms whose whispers invade a person’s mind and leave them incapable of fighting back. Most become mad or die. Morigan does neither. She and Brynhilde are amazing women who do their best for the people they are in charge of.

I think that what I liked most about The Broken God and The Legend of Fyrsta series was that while there were a huge number of endings, there were no happy endings. There were, however, new beginnings. Occasionally, death is postponed and, instead, another chance was given. Not to make things over or better than before, but to continue trying to make a go of it. We can’t really ask for more than that. Except maybe strawberries.

Absolutely loved it. Definitely recommended.

I was asked to review The Broken God by Sabrina Flynn


My reviews of:

  1. A Thread in the Tangle
  2. King’s Folly

Bishop, Anne: The Pillars of the World (Tir Alainn) (2001)

Reading to my daughter continues to be a pleasure. Our journey through the land of fantasy brought us into the world of Anne Bishop and the trilogy The World of the Fae.

The Pillars of the World is the first book of the series. It works well as a stand-alone novel. Bishop takes us in to a world where one man’s fears changed two countries into places where the gap between the powerful and the powerless becomes unbridgeable. Now the turn has come to Sylvalan.

Misogyny is said to be the hatred and dislike of girls or women. Personally, I believe it is more about fear of the perceived power or potential power of women and girls. Add to that a hunger for an increase in one’s own power and a religion or belief-system is born. Adolfo, the Master Inquisitor, the Witch’s Hammer, carries his misogynism and power hunger to extremes.

She’d never heard of the Evil One until Master Adolfo came to stay with Baron Hirstun. But she knew with absolute certainty that there was such a creature, that the Evil One did, indeed, walk the earth.

And its name was Master Inquisitor Adolfo, the Witch’s Hammer.

He was the very breath of Evil with his quietly spoken words and the gentle sadness in his eyes. Those things were the mask that hid a rotted spirit.

Oh, yes, treat the witch gently so that she may repent. Don’t look upon her limbs so that you won’t be swayed by lust.

The soul-rotted bastard just didn’t want those men to see the welts, the cuts, the burns he had inflicted on her to “help” her confess. The hobbles provided a clever excuse for why she couldn’t walk well. And he certainly hadn’t hesitated to indulge his lust. His rod was as much a tool as the heated poker and the thumbscrews.

While many witches in Sylvalan certainly have enough power to defend themselves, they also have a creed that states “do no harm”. Sometimes such beliefs are also taken to extremes. Not even saving themselves or their loved ones will bring the witches to use their magic to harm another person. Many of them end up being murdered after severe torture and forced confessions to crimes never committed. All for the sake of one man’s insatiable hunger and fear and other men’s envy.

Adolfo’s and his inquisitors’ distrust and dislike of the witches spreads to the rest of the population. We all know what happens when people flock together like sheep following the voice they want to hear rather than that little voice inside their own heads screaming STOP! The few who do try to stop what is happening end up being accused of the crime of “consorting with the Evil one” and killed.

All because of one man’s fears.

Not only the inquisitors regard witches as a lower species. The Fae in eastern Sylvalan consider themselves supreme beings of the earth. To take one’s pleasures with one of the non-fae is considered a right, but if a male fae should happen to breed a child upon one of the lesser species children are not taken care of. Female fae place the baby on the door-step of the father not wishing to sully Tir Alainn with mixed breeds. Tir Alainn is the home of the Fae, the place they venture out from when they want to play with those of lesser worth.

Definitely recommended both as a read-alone and read-together book.


Reviews:


Translations:

Norton, Andre: High Sorcery (1970)

Wizard’s World (1967)

His decision had shaken the “hound”. Craike bared teeth in a death’s-head grin. Now the mob would speed up. But their quarry had already chosen a part of the canyon wall where he might pull his tired and aching body up from one hold to another. He moved deliberately now, knowing that, having lost hope, he could throw aside the need for haste. He would be able to accomplish his purpose before they brought a gas rifle to bear on him.

At last he stood on a ledge, the sand and gravel some fifty feet below. For a long moment he rested, steadying himself with both hands braced on the stone. The weird beauty of the desert country was a pattern of violent color under the afternoon sun. Craike breathed slowly; he had regained a measure of control. There came shouts as they sighted him.

He leaned forward and, as if he were diving into the river which had once run there, he hurled himself outward to the clean death he sought.

Through the Needle’s Eye

“She’s a witch, you know!” She teetered back and forth on the boards of the small front porch. “She makes people disappear; maybe she’ll do that to you if you hang around there.”

“Ruthie!” Cousin Althea, her face flushed from baking, stood behind the patched screen. Her daughter was apprehensively quiet as she came out. But I was more interested in what Ruthie had said than any impending scolding.

“Makes people disappear – how?”

“That’s an untruth, Ruthie,” my cousin said firmly. True to her upbringing, Cousin Althea thought the word “lie” coarse. “Never let me hear you say a thing like that about Miss Ruthevan again. She has had a very sad life -“

By a Hair (1958)

Father Hansel had been one of the three Varoff shot out of hand, and there was no longer an open church in the valley. What went on in the oak glade was another matter. First our women drifted there, half ashamed, half defiant, and later they were followed by their men. I do not think the Countess Ana was their priestess. But she knew and condoned. For she had learned many things.

The wise women began to offer more than just comfort of body. It was a queer wild time when men in their despair turned from old beliefs to older ones, from a god of love and peace, to a god of wrath and vengeance. Old knowledge passed by word of mouth from mother to daughter was recalled by such as Mald, and keenly evaluated by the sharper and better-trained brain of the Countess Ana. I will not say that they called upon Odin and Freya (or those behind those Nordic spirits) or lighted the Beltane Fire. But there was a stirring, as if something long sleeping turned and stretched in its supposed grave.

 Ully the Piper

There was only one among them who was not satisfied with things as they comfortably were, because for him there was no comfort. Ully of the hands was not the smallest, nor the youngest of the lads of Coomb Brackett – he was the different one. Longing to be as the rest filled him sometimes with pain he could hardly bear.

He sat on his small cart and watched the rest off to the feasting on May Day and Harvest home; and he watched them dance Rings Around following the smoking great roast at Yule – his clever hands folded in upon themselves until the nails bit sorely into the flesh of his palms.

Toys of Tamisan (1969)

“If you have any wish, tell it to Porpae.” Kas dropped his hold on her arm and turned to the door. “When Lord Starrex wishes to dream, he will send for you.”

“I am at his command,” she mumbled; it was the proper response.

She watched Kas leave and the looked at Porpae. Tamisan had cause to believe that the android was programmed to record her every move. But would anyone here believe that a dreamer had any desire to be free? A dreamer wished only to dream; it was her life, her entire life. To leave a place which did all to foster such a life – that would be akin to self-killing, something a certified dreamer could not think on.

Goodreads


Translations:

  • Italian: Le terre degli incantesimi (1979)

Lackey, Mercedes & Edghill, Rosemary: Legacies (Shadow Grail I) (2010)

“She’s gone, what’s the harm?” Muirin said. She flipped through the manila folder. “Transcripts, notes from the teachers – huh, she was getting better grades in Art than I am – evaluations from her magic coach – Kissyface Bowman always was too easy on anybody with a flashy Water Gift – Demerits …” She stopped suddenly, as she got to the last page, and stared down at the folder in silence.

“What?” Loch said. Muirin simply held the folder out to him mutely.

He took it, and looked down at the last page. Spirit looked over his shoulder. There was just a single page there at the end, something it would be easy to take out and dispose of if for some reason you were going to hand it over to someone. At the top of the page there were several lines of illegible handwriting. The rest of the page was blank.

Except for a large red stamp that said: “Tithed.”

And the date.

Halloween. (Mercedes Lackey and Rosemary Edghill)

Teasdale, Niall: Thaumatology 101 (2011)

thaumatology-101-Niall Teasdale

Thaumatology 101 is a mystery. Ceridwyn (Ceri) Brent has been hired as a research assistant to Dr. Tennant at the Metropolitan University in London at the High-energy Thaumatology Building. Thaumatology is the magic of Teasdale’s world. Dr. Tennant has been working for a couple of years on finding a solution for the containment of T-Null. It turns out her other assistant, Shane Walters, has hampered her work. After an accident occurs that almost kills Ceri, Ceri and Lily begin searching for an answer to why Shane is out to stop Ceri.

I like the way Teasdale introduces us to the world (and the house) both Ceri and Lily are part of. Thaumatology 101 is very much about the friendship between Lily and Ceri. Ceri experiences major changes in her life during the story and Lily is there to both support and hamper her. Thaumatology 101 celebrates sexuality without being preachy or crude. I found that refreshing. Not being a romance was also great. Violence in the story was toned down. Because of the toned down violence and joyful sexuality, I would call this an older Young Adult urban fantasy tale.  The story is somewhere between a novella and a novel in length (137 pgs).

Recommended.


Reviews:


Thaumatology 101 available at Smashwords, Amazon.com, Amazon.uk

Hyndman, Jennifer Elizabeth: Grinch, Demon Slayer (2013)

Bryce didn’t see the string attached to a fishing hook which Noah had hid, with the direction of Samuel, under his drinking glass. He looked at Brooklyn and said, “You dipped your hair in your gravy again.”

Brooklyn squealed, looking down at her hair and examining it for food. When Bryce had his full attention on Brooke’s hair Noah quickly slipped the fishing hook into the wrist cuff of the head elf’s button up shirt. Bryce didn’t notice nor did anyone else.

“Well it looks like I was wrong.” Noah chuckled at his own genius. Well, technically it was Samuel’s genius. Keeping the string loose, he waited until Bryce was about to lift a spoonful of mashed potatoes to his mouth. That was when he held the string tight so that Bryce had to pull extra hard to lift his hand.

When Bryce pulled harder on his hand, confused at the resistance, the string broke and he quite literally punched himself in the face with a spoon of potatoes. He was not amused. Luckily, Noah was faster than Bryce. …

We’re Women with Autism – Not Mystical Imps, Sprites or Fairies….. Get it right.

Yup. She says it the way it is again.

Seventh Voice

Artwork by Devushka Artwork by Devushka

Sorry to disappoint all of those who wish to believe that Women with Autism are made out of some kind of unique fairy dust that endows all of us with “special talents” or “super powers”, because we are not magical beings.

We are Women Wired Differently…. not Women Wired Magically.

Please stop confusing our different skill sets, ie, our tendency to focus on the finer details of life that often make us more likely to pick up on the inconsistencies that are usually hidden within the bigger picture that people present to us, with being the equivalent of having a “super power”, “gift”, “unearned talent” or whatever else some would like to call it.

The truth is, that for us, our intense focus on fine details, whilst it may have started out as a fascination, has also become a survival mechanism.

Our intense focus is not magical…

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