Alpha Omega by Nicholas Bowling

At about the 70% mark, I realized that Alpha Omega could slot very easily into the universe of The Matrix, serving as an entirely convincing origin story, so to speak, of that cyberpunk dystopia. The comparisons drawn between this book and Ernest Clines’ Ready Player One are poor: Mr Clines’ novel is a Spielbergian adventure with a young hero triumphant, and AO is very much not that. But it’s deeper and more rewarding in the end, in my opinion, tho there is a fair amount of chaff to get through before then.

AO is ostensibly the story of Gabriel Backer, a 15 year-old school shooter in the making who was kicked out of the expensive, prestigious Nutristart Skills Academy for irrepressibly hacking their computer systems. Since his expulsion, he’s spent most of his time “In World”, as being online in the vast virtual game world of Alpha Omega is known, to the chagrin of his sight-impaired mother, Stephanie. When he’s approached by someone claiming to be a game dev offering to pay him for playtesting new areas, he’s all in.

The majority of the actual story revolves around Tom Rosen, an English and Media teacher at the NSA who’s become increasingly disaffected by the school’s model-corporate-citizen policies. His breaking point comes when one of his students becomes violently ill, is hustled out by school authorities to a waiting car, then promptly falls off the face of the planet. Another student, Alex “Peepsy” Pepys, is convinced that the weird illnesses befalling the NSA students is a result of his stealing the undoubtedly cursed human remains newly excavated by builders looking to erect an impenetrable security wall around the campus. He, Tom and Gabriel become unwitting partners in figuring out what is happening at the NSA and exposing it to the world.

It’s not exactly a spoiler to say that corporate greed is at the bottom of all the shenanigans. It was, however, a shock even to my jaded system to see how Nicholas Bowling so brutally yet elegantly extrapolates from current trends to paint a vision of a corporation-run hellscape dotted with several flavors of misogyny, where people flee to the virtual reality of Alpha Omega for not only entertainment but an almost necessary comfort. It’s a bleak, unsettling portrait of a near-ish future, featuring strokes of mad hilarity and the occasional veering into uncomfortable edgelord territory, that also happens to be an ambitious and ultimately successful send-up of Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

In all honesty, I wish there had been about one third less of the beginning and one third more added to the end of this novel. While AO ends in a liminal state both haunting and wry that hints at a better future, I really do want to know what happens to our characters next, especially brave, resourceful Maggie. This is a subversively smart novel that starts slowly, builds almost neurotically, then ends in a grand explosion that leaves the reader wanting more in the best way possible.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/08/06/alpha-omega-by-nicholas-bowling/

Lailah’s Lunchbox: A Ramadan Story by Reem Faruqi & Lea Lyon

A slightly belated Selamat Hari Raya Aidiladha! What better way to kick off the season than by, er, reviewing a book about Aidilfitri. Well, technically Ramadan, but since I’d put off ordering this picture book for my kids till I had several novels I wanted to buy in hard copy from my local indie bookstore, the book’s arrival seemed serendipitous enough for review now.

I originally ordered this thinking it would be a good primer for my 6 year-old twins, being a picture book, but discovered it’s actually aimed at a slightly older age group, which is totally fine. My eldest and I read through it together and it was perfect for him, tho I would have liked it if Reem Faruqi had stated how old Lailah was when she began to fast for Ramadan in the book itself. It would definitely have been helpful for my 9 year-old, whom we’re trying to encourage to fast for full days at school, to know that Lailah was 10, and that he’s thus on track with his peers (tho I began fasting full days at 8 myself, a benefit of going to school in a Muslim country with a built-in support system for that kind of thing.)

Anyhoo, this picture book tells the story of Lailah, a recent immigrant from Abu Dhabi to Atlanta, who is excited to finally be old enough to fast at school. Her mom writes her a note to be given to her teacher, explaining about skipping lunch, but Lailah has second thoughts about handing it over, leading to misunderstandings that are eventually cleared up with the help of a thoughtful librarian. My poor kid had to put up with me snarkily commenting on Lailah’s disobeying her mother and thus making her own life unnecessarily difficult, tho I do very much understand Lailah’s reluctance to draw attention to her differences or, worse, have to explain her belief system. Fortunately, the book made it clear that most people are respectful and understanding if not downright accommodating when given the chance to be, which is definitely a good message for the target demographic. My 9 year-old told me that his main takeaway from the book is “to be brave” tho “there’s no school right now.”

The pictures are also lovely, with Lea Lyon’s watercolors practically glowing from each page. Their quasi-photorealistic quality do a really good job of illustrating Lailah’s family and school lives. Overall, Jms and I enjoyed this quick, thoughtful read that helps to demystify fasting in a non-Muslim country for both Muslims and non-Muslims alike, as well as encourage a two-way street of communication to facilitate understanding and acceptance.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/08/04/lailahs-lunchbox-a-ramadan-story-by-reem-faruqi-lea-lyon/

By Force Alone by Lavie Tidhar

What if Arthur, like Uther, was an ambitious thug and the knights of the Round Table were a collection of weirdos and ruffians who say “fuck” a lot? That’s more or less the premise of Lavie Tidhar’s By Force Alone, and although I finished the book relatively quickly during my recent vacation in the Eifel, at the end I was struck by two things. First, Monty Python and the Holy Grail came to mind entirely too much, which I suppose shows the effectiveness of the troupe’s sendup of Arthuriana more than 40 years after its release. On the other hand, Tidhar may have at least partially been playing to that himself; he notes in his afterword “The attentive reader will no doubt find a great many and various references scattered throughout this novel.” (p. 505) Certainly his Lancelot resembles the Pythons’ in deadliness, although Tidhar adds a knowledge of kung-fu (noting also in the afterword that none of the sources give Lancelot this set of skills) and rather more self-control in getting started with the slaughter.

By Force Alone

Second, by the end of the book I was still not sure why. The Once and Future King mashed Arthur up with a modern, or at least mid-twentieth-century, sensibility, and made the early years quite funny. It’s been a decade and more since I read The Mists of Avalon, but I still remember the audaciousness of telling the legends of Arthur with the men mainly nuisances, practically all of the fighting off-page, and the Grail quest a pointless aggravation. Marion Zimmer Bradley had a clear purpose in recasting Arthur.

And Tidhar? He’s gone back to original sources, as he explains in his afterword. Geoffrey of Monmouth’s history of Britain “is a wildly inventive fantasy text.” (p. 501) He explains how stories accreted to Arthur: “It is thanks to the otherwise-obscure Norman poet, Wace, for instance, that we get Excalibur and the Round Table. An unknown English poet in the fourteenth century gives us Gawain and the Green Knight.” (p. 501) Tidhar emphasizes the European roots of Arthurian legends. “Indeed, it is one of the greatest ironies of the material that the stories of Britain were mostly made up by those on the continent.” (p. 501) He notes that Chrétien de Troyes introduces Lancelot and the grail, that Wolfram von Eschenbach introduced the quest for the grail, and that Robert de Boron brings in both Joseph of Arimathea and the Lady of the Lake. Tidhar attributes motives to the various historians and poets — Geoffrey had political purposes, de Boron religious, and Malory “provided mass entertainment while serving an essentially political purpose: giving the people of Britain a shared (if entirely made up) past, made of glory.” (p. 503)

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Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/08/02/by-force-alone-by-lavie-tidhar/

The Black God’s Drums by P. Djèlí Clark

I need P Djeli Clark to write me some meaty 300+ page books! He’s definitely doing great things with shorter works: 2019’s The Haunting Of Tram Car 015 felt fully realized despite its brevity, and I can only imagine that this year’s Ring Shout will only showcase his increasing command of the novella form. Unfortunately, while The Black God’s Drums — like A Dead Djinn In Cairo, its predecessor in Mr Clarks’ novella oeuvre — felt rich in world-building and tone, it fell quite flat, for me, in plot.

The Black God's DrumsCreeper is a street kid living in Free New Orleans after a slave uprising liberated the city from the Confederacy during the American Civil War. In this alternate universe, the islands of the Caribbean are also self-ruled by the formerly enslaved, and technology is very much steampunk, with gods and goddesses an essential part of the rich tapestry of everyday life. In fact, the goddess Oya, orisha of winds and storms, has a deep connection with Creeper, aiding our urchin time and time again as she picks pockets and evades all attempts to send her off to school.

When Creeper accidentally overhears a plot to pay off a Haitian scientist in exchange for deadly technology, she knows she has to bring this important information to the right people. Her informants tell her that the best person to trust is Captain Ann-Marie of the airship Midnight Robber, so off she goes to try to barter this information for the thing she craves most. Little does she realize that embarking on this adventure will put her in the crosshairs of a man even Oya shrinks from. But what price is too high to pay to keep the secret of the Black God’s Drums?

There’s so much wonderful world-building here in these scant 100-odd pages, with a diverse cast and a bounty of action and adventure, that you can almost forgive the plot itself for being bog standard. I’ve recently discovered that perhaps most sff readers don’t read as many mystery novels as I do, but even so, the only surprises in this narrative were in the ornamental details and not in the actual turns of the story. That said, I loved those ornamental details, even if I wish there had been much more meat to the story itself.

Doug found this far more enchanting than I did. You can check out his review here.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/07/28/the-black-gods-drums-by-p-djeli-clark-2/

Middlegame (Middlegame #1) by Seanan McGuire

Finished reading this last Hugo nominee for Best Novel right before the buzzer, and wow is my brain tired! So many interesting concepts and some really great, fun writing throughout the many books and stories I’ve covered for/off this slate. My right eye is still twitching even as I type these words, tho some of that may have to do with the stress of having five books to read and review over the next ten days when all I want to do is maybe take a break from reading for a week. No rest for the wicked awesome, tho (plus one of those books is HARROW THE NINTH *fangirl squealing*.)

But to Middlegame, which had the virtue of Seanan McGuire’s readable, engaging prose to carry me through its 400-odd pages as I careened towards the voting deadline. Roger and Dodger are twins who were separated at birth in a grand alchemical experiment to embody the Doctrine of Ethos, with one twin representing language and the other mathematics. While still children, they manage to start communicating with one another despite being on opposite American coasts, but a series of catastrophes causes them to keep falling apart. As they get older, they discover what they really are and who made them, a discovery that could risk both their lives and that of countless others.

It’s an interesting concept based on at least one cool literary conceit, but I was exhausted after reading it, mostly from Ms McGuire’s almost unceasingly portentious tone. Too much portentiousness too often threatens to slip over into pretentiousness: the book takes itself as seriously throughout as the villain takes himself and that, my friends, is exhausting. I recognize that this solemnity is a trademark of Ms McGuire’s writing, but it’s far easier to stomach in the novellas of the Wayward Children series than in a much lengthier novel. Notably, the treatment of parents in Middlegame was much more fair-minded than in said series, with a lot of stress on the good of adoption.

Aside from tone, I was also put off by the extended scene with Erin in Smita’s lab, which felt infinitely gratuitous. In truth, it read like something spliced off from a different project, as if written separately and in more detail, in homage to slasher movies: fine of itself, but obviously grafted on to the rest of the text. I was also disappointed by where the twins ended up while searching for the Impossible City and fighting off Leigh: I’d expected something less prosaic, tbh. I understand the beauty of what they did in the ruins, but it still felt like a let-down after the build up as to how metaphysical it and the Improbable Road were meant to be. The lab was pretty well-realized tho, and I imagine the questions raised regarding Asphodel and James will be solved in the next novel in the series. Do I care to pick it up when it comes out tho? I’d say there’s a 33.3% probability.

Anyway, I need to plunge back into reading, and since all five of the books I have scheduled next are for CriminalElement.com, it will be a little while till you see me here again! But I’ll hopefully be back with reviews of Paul Tremblay, P Djeli Clark and Pierce Brown (totally coincidental that all their names start with P,) if my brains haven’t trickled out my ears before then. Oh, and perhaps coverage of how the Hugo results inevitably diverge from my carefully considered ballot! See you soon!

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/07/22/middlegame-middlegame-1-by-seanan-mcguire/

The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley

A searing, devastating indictment of both unquestioning loyalty and the corporate interests that use up workers in order to profit shareholders, extrapolated to their grimmest reality, Kameron Hurley’s The Light Brigade is both gripping and timely in this endless year of 2020. Our narrator, Dietz, grew up in the slums of Sao Paulo, eking a living with her family till her parents could earn residency with the ruling corporation of Teni-Silva. Resident living was slightly better, but the real perks were held by citizens, so once she’s eligible, Dietz signs up for the military, one of the few pathways open to citizenship. Granted, it still takes a long time that way and isn’t without its dangers, but she’s also motivated by the chance to strike back at the Martians who killed millions of people in attacks on both the moon and earth. She sees herself as a paladin, using force to protect the righteous, a belief that sustains her through brutal military training and then through the bizarre things that happen to her after Drops.

Drops are the name for the process that transports soldiers thousands of miles through space by busting them down to light and reconstituting them at the other end. It isn’t foolproof — people do wind up with limbs improperly reattached or in the middle of solid structures — but it’s fast and relatively cheap. Trouble is, Dietz doesn’t seem to move just through space but also through time, and what she sees isn’t pretty. Is she going mad or is she part of a Light Brigade that could very well save the world from itself?

I don’t know if, when the book came out in 2019, it seemed less prophetic than it does in 2020 but wow, does Ms Hurley know how to write meaningful social commentary in the form of military sci-fi! Which shouldn’t come as a surprise given her training as a historian specializing in the future of war and resistance movements, but it’s always weird actually watching a prophecy unspool in real time. The Light Brigade tackles so many important sociopolitical issues that it’s hard to pinpoint just one as being particularly relevant, but I must say that if you have any interest in seeing how a world ruled by unfettered corporate greed shakes out, you should absolutely read this novel. Unnecessary spoiler for anyone with half a brain: a future where corporations are given control of humanity is not a good future.

The sci-fi throughout was also pretty great, but I’m fairly easy to please when it comes to that sort of thing. I didn’t super love the ending but I didn’t hate it either. Writing-wise, I was very impressed by how Dietz’s gender was largely irrelevant and unknown throughout the book, tho I assumed she was female even before being told otherwise. Plus, the audiobook is narrated by Cara Gee (insert heart eyes emoji here,) which is the number one reason I would ever get an audiobook.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/07/21/the-light-brigade-by-kameron-hurley/

Gideon the Ninth (The Locked Tomb #1) by Tamsyn Muir

Several of my reactions upon completing this book, in no particular order:

“Do I really need to read the other Hugo finalists when this may be the best book I’ve ever read ever?”

“Oh gosh, I’d love to play in an RPG of this. I wonder what dice and stats system this would run best on…”

“You know, this would be really perfect for a TV series. Gory but perfect. Don’t let those GoT hacks anywhere near it tho.”

Reader, this may not be the perfect book for you, but it was the perfect book for me. I mean, what’s not to like about the standard description of Gideon The Ninth, calling it a tale of lesbian necromancers in outer space? Reading the first few chapters, where we’re introduced to Gideon and her fraught relationships with the other inhabitants of the Ninth House, was already divertingly unique, but then Gideon and her frenemy Harrow answer the Emperor’s call for necromancers and their cavaliers to attempt to become Lyctors, His hallowed right hands, and the book becomes a manor house murder mystery, my God, Tamsyn Muir, are you writing for me?! This novel is And There There Were None meets Warhammer 40k meets splatterpunk with a heroine who loves her puns and That’s What She Said jokes as much as I do, and a really clever indistinguishable-from-magic system, and this book is so smart and so laugh-out-loud funny and so heartbreakingly sad that I had several crying jags while reading it. Yes, there are parts where it’s obvious an editor* leaned over and reminded Ms Muir that readers don’t live inside her head and probably need a bit more explaining on the page than she’d set down already, but they only made me want to live in Ms Muir’s head which is both really creepy and really fucking apropos — read the book to find out why! I am worn out after reading this and am using far, far too many italics when reviewing it, but it is so much the best book I’ve ever read ever, thoroughly engaging my heart and my head and my funny bone. I’m probably going to pre-order the sequel, Harrow The Ninth, which is something I’ve only ever done for two other books before in my entire lifetime. Ooh, should I get a hard copy?

Tl;dr Absolutely mind-blowing amalgam of the best of different genres with a refreshingly contemporary heroine. I love.

*Carl Engle-Laird, whose work I will be following hard from now on!

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/07/20/gideon-the-ninth-the-locked-tomb-1-by-tamsyn-muir/

The City in the Middle of the Night by Charlie Jane Anders

I’ve read a bunch of Charlie Jane Anders’ short fiction and never understood why it was so popular. I figured reading something long form would help clarify this situation and it did, but not in the way I wanted. Here’s my problem with the writing of hers I’ve read so far: there are few interiors. She very rarely tells you how a character feels, in a lived-in way. There’s a scene where Sophie, one of the heroines, collapses from emotion, and it’s described in a weirdly clinical manner, all physical movement and acknowledgment of facts, but without any visceral reaction. It’s the reading equivalent of watching a puppet show instead of human or even animated actors: there are broad strokes meant to simulate feeling but everything feels dead behind the eyes. I don’t know if this is a deliberate choice not to describe how people feel via interior voice  — there are definitely bullshit writing advice websites out there promoting dispassionate storytelling with the claim that it somehow makes people feel character emotions more vividly — but it serves to make me feel at a complete arm’s length from anything going on in the narrative.

As to the narrative, woof. Okay, so there are some really great concepts here. A Mothership filled with humans fleeing a dying Earth landed on a tidally locked planet they called January. They built a series of cities in the twilight, temperate zone but as generations pass, the cities close off from one another and begin to decay, as entropy wins against adaptability. In Xiosphant, the biggest(?) city of a million people or so, citizens are ruled by a way of life called Circadianism, which strictly allocates when people are allowed to work, sleep or otherwise exist. Our first viewpoint character Sophie escaped the constraining expectations of her middle-class Xiosphanti lifestyle by winning a scholarship to the Gymnasium, an elite school for the best and brightest. She falls madly in love with her roommate Bianca, who is beautiful and rebellious in the way only privileged people can afford to be. When she takes the fall for a crime Bianca committed, Sophie is exiled to the night side, but is saved via an unexpected encounter with a member of the other sentient species on the planet, a species humanity refuses to see as anything but animals.

Our other viewpoint character is Mouth, the only survivor of a nomadic people who now works with a group of adventurers who are part courier but mostly smuggler. Her fighting skills are unparalleled, and when she hears that a copy of the last remaining book of her people is tucked away in the Xiosphant palace, she falls in with a group of student rebels planning to besiege it. One of these rebels is Bianca, who was radicalized by Sophie’s arrest and exile, and is now determined to liberate her fellow citizens from their dystopian government. Of course, little goes to plan, and Mouth, Bianca and Sophie eventually find themselves agents of planetary change.

There’s so much potential here but so little makes sense. The systems of Xiosphant sound interesting until you take into account how the place is geographically impossible given the distances Sophie allegedly covers on foot, even before her last return to the city. Argelo hangs together better as an anarchic city ruled by nine different gang families, until you ask how Sophie and Bianca manage to pay for their party hearty lifestyles before Dash takes an interest in Bianca. As with the lack of interior emotion, there are weird gaps in the logic of things that shouldn’t even be a concern. Like, I understand why the Gelet thought Sophie would make a terrific ambassador because they obviously don’t know enough about humans to know what a terrible idea that is — that makes sense. But just everyday questions of space and time and, again, human emotion are ignored in such a way as to make the mistakes feel glaringly obvious.

Possibly the worst of these is in Sophie’s obsession with Bianca. At 93% of the book, Mouth describes Sophie as an idiot, and it seems that the line was thrown in as an afterthought, Ms Anders acknowledging to the reader that yes, our heroine is hard to root for but hey, she realizes it too! To which: so maybe stop making her be an idiot?! Our knowing that you know she sucks doesn’t make her suck any less! But okay, fiction lives for people doing incredibly stupid things for love, even when the object of affection also objectively sucks.

What’s less forgivable is the way Ms Anders treats Mouth. Mouth is blamed for the failure of the Xiosphanti student rebels when it was likely Bianca’s fault they were discovered at all. Yes, she encouraged Bianca’s revolutionary interests but so did everyone else involved in their little plot, and instead of anyone acknowledging that they were as much to blame as she was, she’s cast as the villain for some bizarre reason.

I was also deeply uneasy with the way Mouth’s relationship to her dead peoples was treated. Sure, they turned out to be a cult but the ease with which the proudly Jewish Alyssa dismissed Mouth’s desire to protect her heritage before finding any of that out felt really wrong to me. I absolutely agree that the idea of heritage should be something that needs to be studied and considered critically, and that there are lots of things people shouldn’t throw away their lives over, but being the sole survivor of an extinct people seems like a perfectly good impetus for Mouth to want to recover anything that can teach her more about them. It was really bizarre to see Mouth vilified for any number of perfectly understandable motivations, considering that she was surrounded by people who sucked way harder.

Anyway, I’ve heard that All The Birds In The Sky is better so maaaaaybe I’ll give that a chance once I’ve dug myself out from under all the reading on my current slate, whenever that is.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/07/16/the-city-in-the-middle-of-the-night-by-charlie-jane-anders/

Minor Mage by T Kingfisher

This book reads far differently for me as a mom now than if I’d read it before my kids were born, but I’d like to think that my younger self would still have appreciated how terrific, how finely crafted this tale of a young wizard on a quest to save his village is.

Oliver is our titular minor mage. He knows all of three spells, learned at the feet of an aging wizard, and one of them is to alleviate his allergy to his own armored familiar, Armadillo. Armadillo has a real name, of course, but one doesn’t go around calling a wizard’s familiar by his real name, so calling him by his species name will have to do. Oliver is also twelve years old, and when his mother, a former adventurer, heads to the next village over to help his older sister with the birth of her first child, he decides he’s going to take the opportunity to travel to the distant Rainblade Mountains in order to bring rain to his drought-stricken village. Unfortunately, a mob of his own villagers interrupt his packing to demand he set off immediately, turning his youthful folly into a much less savoury undertaking. On the plus side, Oliver acknowledges, once his mother gets back she’s going to be much less upset with him than with their fellow villagers.

So off Oliver goes, and over the course of nearly 200 pages, he has adventures that make him think about community and what people owe one another, though in far less abstract terms. His adventures are hair-raising and near fatal, but he learns so much about his capabilities and limitations. He also, unabashedly, misses his mother. Which got me to thinking, as I do every so often, of how few stories talk about good, heroic moms, at least in comparison with dads. For every Not Without My Daughter you have three Taken movies, after all. Not that Mom comes in to save the day here, tho: this is still very much a book about Oliver’s choices and agency. But it was nice to see the loving bond between living mother and child, especially in a fairy tale genre rife with dead or cruel maternal figures.

Tho as in real life, younger readers likely won’t even notice this. They will, however, appreciate not only Oliver’s adventures but also the wit and charm of the writing in general. T Kingfisher blends humor and suspense with just the right touch of gore, underpinning everything with a thoughtful look at how children deal with unreliable adults, as well as with how the idea of adventure rarely lives up to reality. Most importantly, she underscores a lot of things you don’t often find in fairy tales: how it’s okay to be scared sometimes, how it’s okay to miss your mom, how it’s okay to feel bad about making tough choices and, my personal favorite, how it’s okay to not want to be normal. Overall, an outstanding book from an author I’ve long wanted to read, and currently my favorite for the Lodestar Award at the 2020 Hugos.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/07/15/minor-mage-by-t-kingfisher/

An Interview with Tiffani Angus, author of Threading The Labyrinth

Q. Every book has its own story about how it came to be conceived and written as it did. How did Threading The Labyrinth evolve?

A. Way back in 2009, it started as a research proposal for a PhD in Creative Writing. I wanted to study the history of English gardens and write a novel that span 400 years in a garden with an analysis of space and time in gardens in fantasy fiction. I wrote that novel, passed my viva, and then set about trying to publish the book. It underwent some big changes, though, to get it from PhD to bookshelves!

I love multi-generational stories, so I wanted several time periods represented in the novel; there are even some time periods and stories I wanted that didn’t make it to the pages. The stories inside it each evolved individually, set to feature certain gardening styles and some ideas springing from specific things I discovered on my research. For example, Joan the weeding woman was named for two weeding women I found in a record of Hampton Court’s garden laborers from the reign of Henry VIII, and Mary Hill’s aunt Madeline was inspired by the Victorian photographer Julia Margaret Cameron. It was only when I finished the novel that I realized Toni, the American who comes to England to find her heritage, was—in a very small way—me, an American returning to the land of her ancestors. It was about halfway through writing it that I also realized that it was an adult version of the trope found in a lot of fantasy books for children in which the garden is a time travel device, though in Threading’s case it isn’t as overt. Once I realized that, a lot became clear, so I took it and ran with it!

Q. Do you write with any particular audience in mind? Are there any particular audiences you hope will connect with this story?

A. I teach creative writing, and I honestly don’t believe in “writing for yourself” in the sense of writing but never intending to share it; I think writing for yourself is writing for those people out there like you who are on the lookout for stories about witches or ghosts or interstellar orchids or whatever. So I wrote this because I’ve always loved multi-generational books and historical fiction that is about real people but messes with the history a bit and inserts fantastic elements. I hope this appeals to fantasy readers and historical fiction readers—I think it has enough for both audiences without necessarily alienating either one. Gardeners might like it, too, but hopefully they approach it as fiction and not as written by a professional horticulturist!

Q. It isn’t often that we read a novel like Threading The Labyrinth where gardening is shown to be a form of art, ever evolving and often needing the commitment of generations to perpetuate and expand upon the work of the original creators. How has your own connection to gardening and art influenced your writing of this book?

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Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2020/07/14/an-interview-with-tiffani-angus-author-of-threading-the-labyrinth/