The series is bit like a cross between Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey/Maturin books and McAffrey’s Dragonriders, a sort of historical fantasy.  If you have not read any of Novik’s Temeraire books, I strongly recommend them, but you may wish not to read this article as it contains spoilers for the first book, His Majesty’s Dragon.

In Novik’s books, the Napoleonic war is underway, as it was in our more familiar history, with an additional front: the air battle is fought by dragons.  No nation’s military defence is complete without a dragon corps, and although dragons are not easy to either feed, or house, they are a military necessity, and thus England has adapted, to some extent, to co-habiting with these immense carnivores.

The stories are told from the point of view of Laurence, a gentleman of good family who holds every opinion he ought; which is to say he’s patronizing, condescending, and bigoted, but well meaning and honourable.  These opinions are explicitly contrasted by Temeraire, the dragon Laurence captains.  Dragons, as a breed, do not seem much impressed with anything they cannot confirm for themselves, and Temeraire’s only prejudice is his smug sense of superiority.  The contrasts between Laurence’s and Temeraire’s perspective both highlights and critiques the mores of the period.

The gender roles in Novik’s world are precisely what one would expect from nineteenth century England in every sphere but one: England’s most prized breed of dragon, the Longwing, will accept only female captains.  This is not widely known outside the aviators corps, and as female captains wear trousers, and no one would expect a woman to be in the military riding dragon-back, it is a secret easily kept.

However, within the aviators ranks, women enjoy something very like equality.  Dragons are long lived, and captains are not, so it is the custom to pass down captaincy within the family.  Every Captain is expected to produce an heir, so the women who captain dragons are given a great deal of sexual discretion.

Laurence is continually confronted with the shocking reality of women in trousers, women in authority, and sexually aggressive women.  He is not so stupid he cannot acknowledge the necessity of this, but he is heavily acculturated, and constantly struggles with his chivalrous, useless, social training.

This is most evident in his dealings with Jane Roland, captain of Excidium, and mother of Emily, one of his cadets.  Jane is forthright, battle-scarred, and his senior, all of which Laurence respects, and yet, he cannot quite give up the feeling that she really ought to be in skirts practising embroidery and safe from the risks of battle.  Jane, of course, finds this highly comical and not at all desirable.  As the story progresses, Laurence is able to see that Jane does not get the respect she deserves from the admiralty, on account of her sex, and over the course of the story, Laurence has a slow awakening to the injustices of his society.

This story is a wonderful read, and only in part because it adds women to what would otherwise be a men-only adventure.  But the women sure don’t hurt.

1. Sookie Stackhouse series–Charlaine Harris
2. Diane Duane – So You Want To Be A Wizard
3. Reviews in Brief

Our Heroine is Sarah Tolerance, called Miss Tolerance throughout the book, a woman whose reputation has been ruined, and is therefore fit, according to society, for nothing but exchanging sex for money and a man’s protection. Miss Tolerance, however, sets herself up as an ‘investigative agent’, relying on her wits, her discretion, and her short-sword to earn her living in the world, even though she faces pressure from everyone, men and women, to succumb to the pull of society’s expectations.

The book is an enjoyable read. Miss Tolerance is a compelling character, smart, but shaped by the attitudes of her time period, even those attitudes she struggles against. The mystery intrigued me, and Robins played fair with it, leaving me with the same clues she gave Miss Tolerance (who solved it before me.) There was a romantic sub-plot which I enjoyed because it was presented as a complex, and far from idyllic interlude; I especially liked that becoming involved with a man in a higher social class did not simplify Miss Tolerance’s situation, but rather complicated it. Most readers are probably familiar with the tendency for romantic involvement with a rich man to be both the heroine’s aim, and the solution to her problems. Without spoiling the novel, I will say that that was not this case in this book.

My one problem with this book is not entirely Robins’ fault, but I am compelled to mention it: there is a tendency to portray queer and gay characters on film and television as either evil or dead. While I was pleased to see fully realized queer characters in this book, I would have been happier still if they had deviated from this trend.

1. some good posts on BSG
2. Sookie Stackhouse series–Charlaine Harris
3. He That Hath Wings–Edmond Hamilton

I should first admit that although I’m a bit of a comics geek, Gaiman’s not on my must-read list. Occasionally I will adore his work, mostly it’s merely an afternoon’s read. It’s nothing in particular against him, merely that he’s not interested in writing about things I’m interested in reading about, so our paths don’t cross.

“How to Talk to Girls at Parties” was a huge disappointment for me, however, even with my moderate expectations. Short stories need to make up in intensity what they lack in length. A clever and unexpected twist, or startlingly original idea will achieve this: see Snow, Glass, Apples, for Gaiman doing this well. “How to Talk to Girls at Parties” had a few original ideas, but the central conceit was so incredibly transparent that I had figured it out five hundred words in.

The following contains spoilers.

Our narrator is called, rather unfortunately, Enn. (I assume this a nickname, or short for something.) He’s on his way to a party with his more confident friend, Vic. They go to an all-boys school together, although Vic has managed to actually meet and interact with girls. On their way to the party, Vic tells the nervous Enn, “They’re just girls, [...] They don’t come from another planet.”

This is what we call a gun on the wall in the first chapter. Combine this with the fact that the story is nominated for a Hugo, and written by Gaiman, and I think most readers can work out for themselves where the story goes from here.

Obviously, Vic makes a good point. Girls really are just people, and treating them as completely incomprehensible aliens is going to be a barrier to communication, or, in the case of this story, allow Enn to mistake completely incomprehensible aliens for girls. But, as someone who is actually a girl, pointing out that girls are people was not an insight that rocked my world.

There are interesting implications in the fact that the girl-shaped aliens want to impregnate Enn not with larvae, but with a memetic virus, a poem that will reshape humanity. Is this meant to contrast to a fear of the sexually liberated woman? This was not truly explored.

“Talking to Girls at Parties” is like watching a magician pull out of a hat, not a rabbit, but a hatpin, while a rabbit hops across the stage.

So the story failed to deliver that sharp twist which I particularly like in short stories, but it is quite decent at completely incomprehensible aliens. If you like your aliens with truly other biology and societies, this story is worth checking out.

1. Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere: writing The Other
2. Neil Gaiman’s Coraline
3. The Dead Girls’ Dance- by Rachel Caine