Not a review of Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirrlees

 Another book from the library, which I chose because so much interesting analysis of Lud-in-the-Mist finally made me curious enough to read it. I can see why it has such a high standing in the history of the fantasy genre, though I don't know enough about publishing in the 1920s to even guess at its contemporary impact. I felt like it was an easy read, but difficult to connect with the characters, perhaps because the narrative voice is poking fun at them, even during tragic events. Maybe that lack of connection is why I don't feel like putting in the effort to write a review. Or maybe I resent how reading it made me crave a glass of wine (my usual-though-infrequent drink is soju, and to an even lesser extent, beer). I do however love the second to last sentence: "So let all readers of books take warning!"

I will return this book promptly, or at least sometime next week, so someone else can have a go at enjoying it. I've put a reservation on another book, another classic, but I'm hoping to have a few weeks before it is available. My anticipation is not overwhelming, but also unlikely to diminish. 

Review of the City in Glass by Nghi Vo

Title: The City in Glass

Author: Nghi Vo

Date of publication: 2024

Format: hard cover from the library, 213 pages

Subjects: LCGFT: Fantasy fiction. | Romance fiction. | Novels.

I adore Nghi Vo's Singing Hills Cycle. I've read them multiple times just to enjoy them again. Because of this, I've actually been reluctant to read any of Vo's other work. What if I didn't love it like I do Singing Hills? Would I still be able to enjoy the Cycle? I didn't even consider the possibility of liking it more that the Singing Hills Cycle.

But I do like fantasy cities, and Nghi Vo does adorable interviews, and I want to use my local library more. So I checked out the City In Glass, and I really enjoyed it. I liked it so much, that the two little links I noticed to the Singing Hills Cycle were not my favourite parts. 

Nghi Vo has said the City in Glass is about love, love the emotion, love the action, but not necessarily love leading to happily ever after, and crucially not unchanging love. This exploration of love is done using two non-human characters, the demon Vitrine, and an angel whose name is not in the book. The story spans centuries but takes place in just one city, Azril, because that is what the demon loves. 

What I loved about it:

The writing style is wonderfully rich, intricate, over the top, purple, lilac, mauve- absolutely delicious. Though it seems some people criticise the fantasy genre for this sort of thing, I enjoy it. It feels magical, taking me out of the everyday, and expanding what I think language does. Words I've looked up: vitrine, carcanet, psychopomp, shrike, melusine, carmine. I doubt these will become part of my vocabulary, but that doesn't matter. They have brought me delight, and I appreciate that. (At one point I thought you could open the book at any point and find a rich, resonate passage, but I tried that and no, perfectly ordinary words met my eye.)

In addition to the details in vocabulary, there are so many imaginative snippets of different stories that the book almost feels like a frame narrative, with Azril as the link between diverse characters. The side characters all feel like they would be main characters, if the story was told from a different perspective. (I so want to read the Saga of Shani the Solitary, traveling the world to collect a gift that could please a demon, and then travelling further.) It also makes the world of the book feel huge even though the reader never leaves Azril. Nghi Vo says this is just a writerly trick, and I am happy to be taken in by it.

I also love how un-human the two main characters are. They have solid, human passing bodies but at the same time are impossible, not just super human but impossible in the real world. The story is told in tight third person focused on the demon Vitrine, and she feels disturbingly relatable, though I think this is an illusion. She remains a demon, but we see her emotions, her traumas, and I thought I could understand her. The angel remained a mystery to me, an alien character that I just could not understand, or maybe didn't want to make the effort to understand, because of the empathy I had with the demon. (Oh, dear- maybe I should be more careful when reading) Still, I enjoyed how both characters were beyond human, able to do things humans couldn't, but still troubled by their own lack of power, their inability to do everything they want to.

What I didn't get:

I'm a bit spatially challenged. Usually I'm fine going from A to B, but with no clue where C might be. The book doesn't have any maps, and even though the space is described multiple times in the different eras of the city, I had absolutely no sense of where things were. In some ways, this didn't matter for the plot and character exploration, but at times I felt almost dizzy trying to figure out where the cliffs were in relation to the river, Gallowscross, the mansions, etc.

I'm also a bit surprised at how the demon and angel are so consistently gendered. I think Vitrine is consistently "she" and the angel is "he" for almost all of the book. The Singing Hills Cycle has shown me that there's more to writing characters' gender than just two pronouns, and there is a scene in the City in Glass where Vitrine and the angel use different gendered pronouns for the same star, so I feel that this gendering of the demon and angel is not a default but a considered choice by Vo, to make these un-human characters be read as a woman and a man. Is it saying "woman" and "man" are as un-human as "demon" and "angel"? I feel like there is something there, but I just don't get it. Maybe Nghi Vo has clarified this in something I've not seen yet. Maybe she's just playing with me. I refuse to consider that I am overthinking here.

Would I recommend: 

Yes! You can breeze through it or read it deeply, and it stands up to re-reading (which I did to write this review). I feel like I should compile a list of trigger warnings, but I think I'd leave something out and I'd hate to mislead someone who took me as a trustworthy source, or even someone who took me as untrustworthy.

I know some people have problems with demons (and I suppose angels) in fiction because of their religious beliefs. It's interesting to me the dynamic between belief and entertainment. This book is not a theological study of demons and angels, the concepts are used in a modern fantasy genre style, with influence from the Christian and Islamic traditions (and probably other traditions I didn't recognise). If that feels heretical, then you might not enjoy this book, but you might still be interested in it.

I'm not familiar with romantasy, but if someone liked that sub genre (and especially the enemies to lovers trope) and wanted to try something less romance and more fantasy, the City in Glass might do that. The LCGFT does include romance. I really don't think the romance tropes it has are enough to put it in a romantasy category, but I'm no expert with caterogization. 

It also might be a nice bridge to fantasy for someone into weird fiction, like trippy, irrational stuff, because of the un-real main characters. But again, this isn't something I know much about.

I need to finish now, because I need to return the book, and because it has been exhausting to write this review. So to end, here's a paragraph I especially liked:

"No one loves a city like one born to it, and no one loves a city like an immigrant. No one loves a city like they do when they are young, and no one loves a city like they do when they are old. The people loved the city of Azril in more ways than could be counted. Vitrine loved her city like demons and cats may love things, with an eye towards ownership and the threat of small mayhem."

Completed project: Crazy quilt button

 In October, Jean M led a workshop on crazy quilting at the not-the-E-Guild meeting. I love crazy quilting, so even though I didn't want another unfinished project, I went to the workshop anyway. A chat while I was still working on the patch at another meeting gave me the idea to think of how it could be made into something useful, or wearable, rather than something to hang on the wall. The fact that the crazy quilt patch wouldn't be machine washable didn't stop me from mulling on the idea.

Years (like a decade) ago, I acquired this cheap polyester scarf, as a freebie when viewing the plans for a development project. It's warm, and an easy to wear shade, but the logo isn't one I'd like to sport. So it has remained in my horde, waiting for inspiration and energy to do something with it. The crazy quilt patch was big enough to cover the logo, and pinning it to the scarf rather than sewing it on will hopefully take care of the washing issue. 

I could define it as a broach, but because it will always be placed on the same part of the scarf, and also the scarf will be wrapped around it rather than pinned closed, it feels better to call this finished object a 'button'. I had thought a 'button hole' would be needed to make this work, but now I think I'll just play with different ways to wrap the scarf using the button as a focal point.

The good: It's used a lot of things I had hoarded over the years. The level of sparkle is much higher than what I usually wear, but it isn't bad, a contrast with the dull colour of the scarf.

The bad: Though I chose blue coloured items, there is a mix of turquoise and indigo, and other blues I don't know the name for. Because there are so many different blue colours, I feel like it works as a crazy quilt, but it isn't a gentle colour scheme.

The ugly: As usual, it isn't tidy on the back. There are two safety pins to hold it on. This isn't elegant, but it is what I have to hand, and working out a better method is beyond me.

Also, since I've finished this embroidery project, I feel like I can join in the workshop next month.

Another Utopia: Begumpura

Excerpt from the introduction to The Blaft Book of Anti-Caste SF by R. T. Samuel:

In the fourteenth century, Sant Ravidas, a radical anti-caste public thinker and poet, wrote of a utopian city where caste and inequality no longer existed. He called it Begumpura—a place without sorrow or pain. It has excited the imagination of his listeners and readers ever since, down to this day. 

“No taxes or cares, none owns property there,

no wrongdoing, worry, terror, or torture.

Oh, my brother, I’ve come to take it as my own,

my distant home where everything is right.

That imperial kingdom is rich and secure,

where none are third or second—all are one;

They do this or that, they walk where they wish,

they stroll through fabled palaces unchallenged.

Oh, says Ravidas, a tanner now set free,

Those who walk beside me are my friends.”

Completed project: art journal

 I checked in here, and I started this in 2011. Last month, I finished it, or at least got to the point where every page has something on it, something that doesn't feel like it needs more work. So, 13 years. Things have changed in that time. I haven't kept up with the changes. 

The good: I really enjoy collage, a loose, imprecise type of collage. I like doing it, and often like the finished piece.

The bad: My skills have not improved. If anything, I'm less experimental than when I began.

The ugly: Nothing really. There are parts I don't like, but as a whole, it's all okay. 

There is a lingering issue of what to do with it now. I thought about documenting the individual spreads, but that seems like too much work. I also thought about re-working some of the pages, but I just don't feel like doing that. So I have the completed journal, but not a clear idea what to do with it.

Another bookmark

 I was considering re-booting my blog, acknowledging the changes since 2008, but I don't have the energy for it. Or maybe I just don't like it enough. Instead, I'm adding another book to the list of things to look at: The flowers of Japan and the art of floral arrangement by Conder, J. (Josiah). It is, interesting. And the site has more SIMILAR ITEMS. So many more.

Utopia v Shangri-la

  I think it was in one of Korean Literature Now's Inkstone articles that I came across a reference to Peach Blossom Spring as a phrase meaning 'utopia' in Chinese (though I'm also in the middle of reading a translation of Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, so it could have been mentioned there). The "Spring" is spring as in source of a river, not the season. The phrase originates in a story Tao Yuanming wrote, sometime before 427 BCE. I'm not sure if it was a tale he recorded, or one he invented.

This translation by Rick Davis and David Steelman titles the piece "Peach Tree Shangri-la". I'm not familiar with the book that Shangri-la was created for, or the publications that were inspirations for it. I did find it interesting that the place described in Peach Blossom Spring doesn't seem like a utopia to me, perhaps because it is described as founded by people who isolated themselves to "avoid the chaos of war during the Qin Dynasty" but seem to have kept the customs of that time. I can't believe that the customs of the Qin Dynasty would be a basis for a utopian existence (though I'm not an expert on Qin customs). 

It has the theme of being backward looking, like Eden. But I feel like the isolation is also an argument against it being a utopia; that is a theme I would like to investigate further. Also the contrast between utopia, hidden societies (Shangri-la) and secret societies (like the Illuminati idea, but perhaps there are other secret society models to compare to utopias).