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nixiie's review against another edition
5.0
I love these books. I think this one is my favorite so far though. I love the world and the mystery and the characters. My only point of discontent is the handling of the relationship. These characters are in love, they should be more affectionate in private at least. This seems to be a pretty common thread in gay fantasy, i wonder if it was just too shocking for two men to be lovers when these were published.
ejimenez's review against another edition
4.0
Upgraded from three to four stars - I enjoyed this more on re-read than I originally did. The mystery plot is fun and clever, and the dynamic between Rathe and Eslingen is wonderful. But the real star in this series is the worldbuilding. The reimagined Elizabethan era with gender equity and full acceptance of queer relationships is both well thought-out and satisfying to linger in. Very rewarding read.
alisonalisonalison's review against another edition
5.0
4.5 stars. So well done. This is a marvellous book in a marvellous fantasy mystery series and this is my favourite so far. The city of Astreiant and its residents continue to capture all my attention. There's so much depth and subtlety and complexity in this story and the characters continue to be totally compelling. The mystery is absolutely fascinating, as is the theatrical setting. It's a murder mystery story based around a big theatrical production. Also going on is a mad flower craze like the tulip mania that went on in 17th Century Holland, which complicates everything further. Impressive world-building, great writing, wonderful character development, political intrigues, bad magic, an engrossing mystery, and a lovely romantic subplot make for a extremely satisfying book. This is a big, rich, juicy story that takes its time and I enjoyed reading it so much. Definitely start at the beginning when reading this series (the first book is the wonderful [b:Point of Hopes|13569562|Point of Hopes (Astreiant, #1)|Melissa Scott|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1333176924s/13569562.jpg|2136966]), as everything will make more sense. Looking forward to the next one.
veethorn's review against another edition
4.0
What a delightful series this is. And it’s such a good blend of my favorite genres - mysteries, fantasy, and queer romance.
sarahmiller98's review against another edition
adventurous
mysterious
tense
4.25
Content Warnings
Moderate: Sexual assault
honeypossum_reads's review
adventurous
emotional
mysterious
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
alba89's review against another edition
3.0
Love the world, the mystery is interesting but disappointed in the romance, which is a constant case of telling without showing. I like the two main characters but I don't get why the author keeps shying away from having them show any romantic or sexual expression toward each other. We keep being told they're in a relationship but they don't even touch each other or act romantically in any way. It's clear they have feelings toward each other but they don't express it AT ALL. It's incredibly frustrating.
wealhtheow's review against another edition
2.0
I'd hoped the sequel to [b:Point of Hopes|73574|Lud-In-The-Mist|Hope Mirrlees|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1170838797s/73574.jpg|71204] would be better, but alas. I had the same problems (too much minutia, not enough emotion, characterization, excitement) as I did with the first.
krilves's review
challenging
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
5.0
I love this series. I love the strange world (now becoming very familiar), the characters, and the mystery plot. In this one I also liked how even when Philip and Nico were pretty established as a couple, there was still room for their relationship to grow.
NGL, I love books that make me question things and notice things that prompt me to discuss them - I'm reading this series because it was recommended to me by my friend D (and because it's the sort of thing I'd like) and so I've been messaging them with all kinds of things about these books because I love being able to discuss what I'm reading with somebody who knows what I'm talking about. So that's definitely something that's been heightening my reading experience!
And something I want to bring up in this review is one of the things I discussed with D. For context: In this universe, marriage is a contract that comes with legal benefits and rights. lemanship (lemanry, to be somebody's leman) is not. It comes across more as a solemn oath or a statement of intent than a legally binding relationship contract, and it's explicitly stated that it doesn't have the same rights as a marriage; if you're somebody's leman, your leman isn't your next of kin. Lemanship isn't only for same-sex couples and it seems to be more flexible than marriage in many regards: one man is stated to have a pair of lemen, two young girls about the age of 13 are each other lemen. Philip and Nico are starting to consider each other as their leman in this book.
One of the cases in the mystery plot involves a murder in which the surviving leman is grieving, having problems having the case reopened as a murder investigation, and is explicitly stated as not treated correctly in the investigation procedures as well as not being the murder victim's next of kin, despite the fact they'd been lemen for 17 years. It's also stated that lemanship isn't as accepted in the real world as it is in plays and media, for the first time in the series hinting that lemanship isn't actually the standard form of relationship 'contract' in this universe.
This stood out to me because up until that point, this world had been so effortlessly queer, where the queer experience felt baked in and lived in, where it felt normal and accepted and just the way things there. With two queer POVs who have queer friends and colleagues and notice that sort of thing more - that's no surprise. But it also got me wondering, why would the authors choose to include this difference in legal and relationship status in a fantasy series that otherwise felt like both wish fulfilment and a reflection of lived experience? I don't think any modern fantasy books written by my contemporaries would have done that, if they were explicitly and intentionally creating a world where queerness is normalised, because...well, I haven't come across it. So why did these authors include this particular kind of queer pain in a series that otherwise shows all kinds of relationships as equal and normal?
It's not that the answer is some great big mystery. I'm just showing my age.
This book, though published in 2012 or so, was plotted in the mid-nineties around the same time the first book was published, by Melissa Scott and Lisa A. Barnett, who were partners. They were queer women who lived through the AIDS crisis and would've experienced AIDS-related losses first hand. They were queer women who weren't able to have their own relationship recognised by marriage before Barnett passed away in the mid-00s.
Those of us in our thirties and twenties are privileged to have grown up in a world where our people weren't dropping like flies from a disease nobody wanted to treat, and for many of us in the west we've been able to get civil partnerships and in this century, marriages. I think in most modern queer SFF novels authors deliberately include this equality. So, when it's not included it can feel conservative and bigoted.
I don't think that's the case here. I think this was intentional. I think they were acknowledging their own reality and traumas. And I think it's something we can't ignore either - sometimes, the author is *not* dead (even when one of them in this case literally is), and their biographies and lived experience are actually important to the work.
It hits differently when you know where it comes from. I can well imagine other readers reacting negatively to this part of the book, and I understand why. I just also think it would be reductive and in this case literal erasure to insist on it not being there because it's discrimination...yes, that is the point, because this is our history, and for many people in the world it is is still a reality, even today, even with legal protections.
This got away from me a bit, but I just couldn't stop thinking about this, so here, have an essay I guess.
(On a final note, and this is a problem across all three books I've read so far: the editing in these is actually really bad. Typos and poor formatting aside, there is an astounding amount of head hopping - I'm getting used to it by now, but it's confusing and often frustrating, especially when it happens in the same paragraph. I can sort of live with it when a scene transitions from one pov to another and then back again at the end, even if it's confusing and annoying, but in the same paragraph?? ugh.)
NGL, I love books that make me question things and notice things that prompt me to discuss them - I'm reading this series because it was recommended to me by my friend D (and because it's the sort of thing I'd like) and so I've been messaging them with all kinds of things about these books because I love being able to discuss what I'm reading with somebody who knows what I'm talking about. So that's definitely something that's been heightening my reading experience!
And something I want to bring up in this review is one of the things I discussed with D. For context: In this universe, marriage is a contract that comes with legal benefits and rights. lemanship (lemanry, to be somebody's leman) is not. It comes across more as a solemn oath or a statement of intent than a legally binding relationship contract, and it's explicitly stated that it doesn't have the same rights as a marriage; if you're somebody's leman, your leman isn't your next of kin. Lemanship isn't only for same-sex couples and it seems to be more flexible than marriage in many regards: one man is stated to have a pair of lemen, two young girls about the age of 13 are each other lemen. Philip and Nico are starting to consider each other as their leman in this book.
One of the cases in the mystery plot involves a murder in which the surviving leman is grieving, having problems having the case reopened as a murder investigation, and is explicitly stated as not treated correctly in the investigation procedures as well as not being the murder victim's next of kin, despite the fact they'd been lemen for 17 years. It's also stated that lemanship isn't as accepted in the real world as it is in plays and media, for the first time in the series hinting that lemanship isn't actually the standard form of relationship 'contract' in this universe.
This stood out to me because up until that point, this world had been so effortlessly queer, where the queer experience felt baked in and lived in, where it felt normal and accepted and just the way things there. With two queer POVs who have queer friends and colleagues and notice that sort of thing more - that's no surprise. But it also got me wondering, why would the authors choose to include this difference in legal and relationship status in a fantasy series that otherwise felt like both wish fulfilment and a reflection of lived experience? I don't think any modern fantasy books written by my contemporaries would have done that, if they were explicitly and intentionally creating a world where queerness is normalised, because...well, I haven't come across it. So why did these authors include this particular kind of queer pain in a series that otherwise shows all kinds of relationships as equal and normal?
It's not that the answer is some great big mystery. I'm just showing my age.
This book, though published in 2012 or so, was plotted in the mid-nineties around the same time the first book was published, by Melissa Scott and Lisa A. Barnett, who were partners. They were queer women who lived through the AIDS crisis and would've experienced AIDS-related losses first hand. They were queer women who weren't able to have their own relationship recognised by marriage before Barnett passed away in the mid-00s.
Those of us in our thirties and twenties are privileged to have grown up in a world where our people weren't dropping like flies from a disease nobody wanted to treat, and for many of us in the west we've been able to get civil partnerships and in this century, marriages. I think in most modern queer SFF novels authors deliberately include this equality. So, when it's not included it can feel conservative and bigoted.
I don't think that's the case here. I think this was intentional. I think they were acknowledging their own reality and traumas. And I think it's something we can't ignore either - sometimes, the author is *not* dead (even when one of them in this case literally is), and their biographies and lived experience are actually important to the work.
It hits differently when you know where it comes from. I can well imagine other readers reacting negatively to this part of the book, and I understand why. I just also think it would be reductive and in this case literal erasure to insist on it not being there because it's discrimination...yes, that is the point, because this is our history, and for many people in the world it is is still a reality, even today, even with legal protections.
This got away from me a bit, but I just couldn't stop thinking about this, so here, have an essay I guess.
(On a final note, and this is a problem across all three books I've read so far: the editing in these is actually really bad. Typos and poor formatting aside, there is an astounding amount of head hopping - I'm getting used to it by now, but it's confusing and often frustrating, especially when it happens in the same paragraph. I can sort of live with it when a scene transitions from one pov to another and then back again at the end, even if it's confusing and annoying, but in the same paragraph?? ugh.)