4.5 stars rounded down. 

Thanks so much to my friend Jackie for passing this along to me. I don't think I've ever read a Jackie Collins novel before, I really enjoyed the referral. I do have a guilty pleasure of reading Hollywood novels. When I in high school, doing community theater and teen pageants, it was my goal to move to LA and continue acting and modeling. I was early accepted to a college there and my mom and I went to visit, I would have been there when this book came out. Fortunately or unfortunately, I hated L.A. Ironically, a friend from high school actually won a contest for an audition for Baywatch, but had no interest in acting. Sigh. I mention him, because he should have played Buddy had they made a movie. 

This one's going in my review queue. Hopefully I can review it later today or tomorrow, once I've finished with HoA......

Madeleine Maxwell has had two pivotal moments in her life to date. Her second moment arose after a former teacher suggested applying for a job as a Historian at St. Mary’s Institute of Historical Research. During the interview, St. Mary’s is cagey about the exact nature of their work, but once Maxwell accepts the job, she discovers they are historians who use time travel to correct historical inaccuracies. St. Mary’s has a certain eccentricity about it that appeals to her own rebellious nature:

“We finished with a tour of the grounds… Even as I opened my mouth to ask, there was a small bang from the second floor and the windows rattled.
‘Hold on,’ said Chief Farrell. ‘I’m duty officer this week and I want to see if the fire alarms go off.’
They didn’t.
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ I said.
He sighed. ‘No, it just means they’ve taken the batteries out again.’”

The story follows Maxwell as she undertakes orientation at St. Mary’s, trains as a time-traveler, and is challenged by her initial missions. As she and her fellow orientees embark on their first missions, the peril of time traveling becomes evident. As the Director points out to her:

“Think of History as a living organism, with its own defence mechanisms. History will not permit anything to change events that have already taken place. If History thinks, even for one moment, that that is about to occur, then it will, without hesitation, eliminate the threatening virus. Or historian, as we like to call them.”

Maxwell is fun character with a contagious humor and enthusiasm. Virtually without vanity, after changing into her new grey trainee jumpsuit, she notes, “Surveying myself in a mirror, I looked like a small, excited, ginger sack.” Interestingly, there is minimal personal background, except to learn that it was troubled, and books were a way out. It’s an interesting authorial choice, as it has the advantage of avoiding infodumping and tying the book to a particular point in time, but increases the challenge of creating a sympathetic, multidimensional person. However, her winning combination of spunk, personality and sass won me over. And the ability to hold her liquor. Usually.

There’s loads of humor in the book, creating chuckles all the way through. A scene where the Director is rebuking the staff for their flippant answers on their personnel files had me laughing out loud. Rather than one-note witticisms, humor here comes in many forms, from the mad-cap situations, to sly references (“thick as two short Plancks”) to generally clever writing:

“I cut him off with a gesture and a complicated, ambiguous noise intended to convey–if you don’t ask then I won’t have to lie and you won’t have to take any action we might both regret, because, let’s face it, I’m not the only one up to no good here.
We both paused to contemplate the massive rule-breaking going on here.
‘Would you like some tea?’
‘Oh. Yes, please.’“

I encountered one significant problem while reading, however, I have to apologize to Taylor and say, “It’s not you, it’s me.” As I am tremendously fond of To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis, comparisons between Willis’ and Taylor’s books were inevitable.  Similarities included (vague spoilers, natch):

That said, Taylor’s plot is considerably more action-focused, along with a heavy focus on institutional dynamics.

Other concerns include a bit of vagueness on our present-day setting. This may well be intentional as a way to keep the storyline more focused on the plot, but I did wonder what exact time period the setting is. There’s reference to email, the “latest electronic retrival system” in the library, an “electronic scratchpad” for note-taking, GPS, “blasters,” and “transporters” that take the trainees away from St. Mary’s. It led me to guess mostly-current era, with a suspicious lack of cell phones/instantaneous communication that might have made a later plot point preventable. 

The other concern with mentioning for those that like the science part of the science fiction seems a little light. Pure speculation would be that Taylor’s strength is the history part of the story rather than the science details.  For instance, although they travelers “can’t bring anything back,” they can apparently return covered in mud and potentially contagious with disease. Willis acknowledges the disease/contagion problem in her series and deals with it in an interesting way, but the paradox hasn’t seem to occur to Taylor’s historians though they have to decontaminate before exiting the pod.  Also, although they are “forbidden” from interacting with locals, they end up doing it with some regularity, so it opens up those pesky time-line questions, which are promptly ignored. I’m not one that cares about timeline/causation generally (‘therein lies madness’) but it’s worth mentioning for those who might notice the logic gaps. My most significant final concern is some forced and questionably authentic relationship drama that seemed somewhat out of character for both parties involved. While I appreciated the resolution, it had a false note to it that seemed like character was sacrificed for some plot tension.

But all those are relatively small concerns, given that its ability to hold my interest. It was literally one of those books that I did not want to put down and will certainly hold my attention for a second read. Overall, it was an amazing first novel. A shout out to Richard at Expendable Mudge Muses whose enthusiasm and whole-hearted recommendation inspired me to read this book (and the next, naturally).

A final, memorable line: “It seemed very possible we would all be killed by idiots rather than villains, which would be typical.“

Mr. Kemp, forgive me. I enjoyed your book. Buddy sword and sorcery, against the odds, grit and luck, fun time.  It reminded me of an updated Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser, or a more interesting Riyria Chronicles. It entertained me during a slow night shift when I needed to be entertained and to stay awake, so it was working against gravity, as it were, and it still worked. Kudos.  I completely would have given it three and a half stars if it wouldn’t have been for one major plot-point:

SPOILER--a women-victim thing going on here with the ultimate threat of a woman being made to conceive and carry a demon child.

WARNING: apparently I haven’t gotten enough sleep, because my language filter is broken tonight.

It could be recent events in my life (1) (2), but I’m in one of my moods where the convention just annoys the fuck out of me, and it’s about time I say it.  I have a bone to pick with you all, authors, especially you fantasy and science fiction writers. You know–the fields that play with reality, imagining worlds, societies and creatures that haven’t been dreamed or encountered yet. So, why, why, why must you write the (female) rape threat into your book? The (female) rape scene? Is this really the only place your imagination can conceive the threat of domination?

Sadly, I feel fairly confident that you aren’t trying to bring awareness to an all-too-common female experience, since there’s a fat lack of representation of female roles in the rest of the story. Oh wait–whores–check. Mothers–check. Barmaids–check. We’re covered, fantasy guys! Write on!  Because you show you respect women in those roles, it's totally okay!

Statistics vary somewhat (CDC stats say about 1 in 5 women have been raped and yet U.S. Department of Justice says only about 1.8 in 1000 in 2005 have been sexually assaulted/raped, but you know, their sample is done with people that live in the same location for three years, which is initially the most problematic thing that jumps out at me), but it’s pretty fucking certain most of the women you know have been sexually assaulted in some way at some point in their lives. There was a Booklikes discussion (initiated and hosted by Moonlight Reader) a few months ago where women shared how distressingly common, how very ordinary sexual harassment and assault is, and how often we don’t even bother telling anyone because (3). So when you use it as a, you know, story point, you better be damn fucking sure you use it with intention and thoughtfulness, because it’s going to feel a little close to reality for your readers–a reality, I might argue, that some are hoping to circumvent by diving into the depths of fantasy and science fiction.

It’s not fucking liberated writing if our only role is in the text as a sexual/violent object. You aren’t “standing up for women” if our only representation is dependent upon our sexuality, even if we are rescued by your male hero before it happens. Even if you indulge in a revenge fantasy on our behalf.

My dear male writers who want to include sexual assault against women, I have some advice. First read The Sparrow. It kicked my ass and made me cry for a whole bunch of reasons. If you can do that with your theme/plot/scene, you have my blessing.

 *****************************************************************

(1) You mean I really have to say “no means no” to get you to stop touching me? This is not you "expressing yourself." This is you violating my space, asshat.

(2) Recent reads: Broken Angels, Woken Furies, Codex Born, The Merry Misogynist, The Hammer and The Blade, Rise Again: A Zombie Thriller, Pump Six and Other Stories, Blackbirds, The Summer Tree, blah, blah, blah.

(3) Because of a whole bunch of reasons, none of which need any fucking justification.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity.

Well, sort of. Take two dislikeable tropes, refrigerator females and the drug scourge, and put them in the hands of a fine storyteller, set it a city with a millennia of history, and fill it with fascinating characters, particularly a reincarnated schizophrenic sorcerer, and you get something pretty amazing with a little side helping of ambivalence. 

The Minority Council is the fourth (and last?) book in the Matthew Swift series; however, he does guest appearances in the Magicals Anonymous series. Charmingly, the next book, Stray Souls, is hinted at in a couple of places. At any rate, Matthew Swift is a former sorcerer, reincarnated along with the electric blue angels who escaped from the phone lines. He becomes the reluctant hero, the Midnight Mayor of the city, charged with protecting London from magical destruction. Matthew, however, has a problem caring about the larger issues, and does much better on the concrete, individual level. He only ends up managing the Big Concerns when individuals he comes to care about are affected. The Minority Council doesn’t break this trend; in the first few pages, he meets Meena, a magic user of stunning power, and when she calls him for help, he finds himself involved in London’s underground magical drug trade. At the same time, a local council worker, Nabeela, is trying to storm into the Mayor’s office, intending to bring her cause to his attention. Little does she know that the scuffily dressed man sneaking in the service entrance is, in fact, the Mayor. She convinces Matthew he needs to see one of the teen hooligans who has been somehow changed and the investigation gains momentum.

I continue to love Griffin’s voice. She uses a first person narrative starring Matthew/the electric angels (he switches from ‘I’ to ‘we’ regularly), which does fascinating things with characterization. But it is the overall voice, a mixture of pensive and resolute, wonderment and observant that I enjoy, a voice that perfectly fits with Matthew’s split character.  I found myself wondering if Matthew the sorcerer is indeed ‘there’ at all, or if his personality is merely the electric angels impersonating humanity. It could be because I’ve been reading Richard K Morgan’s downloaded personalities, but I can’t help but see the electric angels as the same sort of phenomenon.

Then there’s the writing itself. Griffin uses words well, specific, slightly unusual choices that highlight and play with meaning. At times, shades of Douglas Adams. At times, flat out great. “At first I hadn’t realised that the voice had been addressed to me, but when I felt an expectation next to me, I looked round, and there she stood.“

The overt plot of the book largely surrounds the relationship between Matthew and his Alders. Having been on the receiving end of the Alders’ willingness to use lethal force, Matthew isn’t inclined to cut them any slack. Matthew sums up the problems between himself and his Alders early on: “In theory they serve the Midnight Mayor, soldiers in his army… They were magical, they were dangerous, a lot of them were dabblers in high finance, and if all of this wasn’t enough, they liked to wear black and talk in short sentences to let you know just how mean they were. They were the banes of my life and it was of only some small satisfaction to think that we were, in our own quaint way, the bane of theirs.“

A note of levity was introduced with Kelly, Matthew’s new Alder P.A. I’m afraid I’m becoming quite fond of her, always dangerous in a Swift book. But she of the eternal optimism made me laugh out loud when she points out: “‘You say that, Mr. Mayor!’ she exclaimed. ‘But you say it in your special brave voice and, you know, I’m really not sure if I can trust your special brave voice these days because, if you don’t mind me saying so, Mr. Mayor, there’s a very thin line between being brave and six months of physiotherapy and liquid foods.‘”

My problems with the series are hard to describe. As much as I wish it wasn’t true, bookaneer’s observation of Griffin’s use of the refrigerator female is sadly apparent. I admit to disappointment, particularly in a female author who ought to be aware that she’s killing off most (all?) of the strong women characters, good or bad. My other challenge centers around Matthew’s naivete. This is book four in Matthew’s reincarnation, and I started to feel like it is entirely too easy to use him as a cat’s paw in a larger scheme. He may feel like he is an actor, but remains largely an agent. Realizing that was one of the moments that made me question whether a sorcerer of Swift’s knowledge and experience was actually in the body at all, or if it was only the electric angels believing they are Swift–what other excuse explains the simplistic way they react with only shreds of intuition and little information?

However, Griffin does an excellent job balancing the drama of the story with humorous touches, one reason the series stands out among urban fantasy. There’s sophistication in the moral issues, and it isn’t always entirely clear that Matthew is right, however understandable his thirst for vengeance might be. The magic and magical creatures continue to impress, updated to a modern recognizable version–the magic of crime scene tape, bus passes, fairy dust, the vestments of the homeless. Overall, highly recommended, but this is one series I strongly suggest be read in order.