Okay, I guess I see where the comments are coming from, but I still can't get over the fact that you have to read 6 to 13 books within this Realms of the Elderlings world to get to this point. Sure, you could skip all those earlier trilogies and quartet, but why would you want to jump in about sixty years after the story started?

So, one book dedicated to showing just how awful rape is, just feels like an excuse to show more rape—and in detail this time.

Just in: Infodumps stuffed within dialogue, are still infodumps.

Other than that, this fundamental change in Fitz didn't feel fully explained especially considering the story is told from his perspective and with his first person voice. "You are you" is damn far away from "I could never".

Answer to the question on top is: No cookie for Hobb.

Last week I stumbled on this. And while I can agree with the sentiment that we need authors and stories that clearly, unequivocally, debunk these tropes about abusive rapists as romantic, I would not call Robin Hobb such an author.

Or in other words: One handsome rapist doesn't undo years and multiple books of using rape as a shortcut.

There was a rape in The Liveship Traders-trilogy, you say. Yes, there was and the rape as well as the aftermath were poorly done. The situation was too close to reality in all the other ways like victim blaming and people believing the rapist over his victim, but when the hero's magic dick heals the heroine-victim, it's all for naught. And let's just ignore the fact that Hobb conflates homosexuality and paedophilia and uses those as an explanation for said rape. Like we haven't read those tropes before.

Fitz is an unreliable narrator, you say. If that's the case, you'd think he'd have mentioned an instance during the Red Ship Wars where one of the Six Duchies soldiers had behaved less than gentlemanly or ladylike and where those strayed puppies had been guided back to the rightful path. He doesn't. Or more to the point, she, Hobb doesn't. Fitz is self-involved dolt, so I guess that makes it okay for the narration to use "raping and pillaging" as a shorthand for villain. Hint: it doesn't.

I believe everything Hobb has churned out since The Assassin's quest has been partly written in response to criticism of her previous books and in part for the monies. It is a positive sign that she's evolving as a social justice story teller, but it's not enough to earn a cookie from me.

I'm back to shouting at a book. The man talks and talks but doesn't hear my curses. Not that it's his fault that I'm raging: they aren't his words. They're Hobb's.

And we're back to raping and pillaging. What's a Hobb book without infused rape culture? No one knows, because it doesn't exist.

Also, the miscommunication is getting ridiculous. It's worse than most annoying examples in romances.

If there were any good will left in me for these books and the author, I would call this manoeuvre ingenious, but there isn't any and I won't. Instead of seeing it is as something building on existing canon, I see this explanation for Bee's existence as the author breaking her own canon and throwing away what little was left of my love for the series.

I still love the characters but dammit if I'm ever trusting Hobb again.

...a few ranty and rambly at least.

And I'm serious about the spoilers. There'll be plenty.

If I were to rate the audio narration of Elliot Hill, the stars would be full. I mean, he's the first voice for Fitz whose name I've bothered to learn. His interpretation of cats' voices is the best and blissfully non-nasal and he's the only reason why I could tell the two first person voice narrators of this book apart. There should be a difference between a ten-year-old girl and thirty-something-sixty year-old-man, but damn if I could tell what from Hobb's words.

You noticed that, did you. Multiple first person voice narrators. Deduct two stars from the maximum!

Speaking of Hobb's other sins, on the meta-level first, I'm furious and frustrated that she's done it again. She spent the last chapter(s) of the Tawny Man trilogy sweeping all issues under the rug to give Fitz a happy ending. Not that he hadn't earned his happiness way back in the Farseer trilogy, but not that particular happy ending and not in Tawny Man.

Hobb never showed Fitz actually working to regain Molly's trust or build a relationship with Nettle or accept his other responsibilities at the Buckkeep Castle. Nope, he went into hiding again. With convenient plot-point-tropy Molly.

Of course, to add insult to injury, instead of showing how Nettle gets to know Fitz as her father and him earning the right to hear her call that, Hobb does a do-over and gives Fitz another child. A second daughter, who too is at first only close to her mother and only becomes Fitz's when he claims her after Molly's death. And then the plot recycling continues with the cliffhanger kidnapping. Yet another Fitz's child is kidnapped and he has to go after her.

Don't try to tell me Fitz doesn't consider Dutiful as his son. Fitz may have tried to convince himself that Dutiful is Verity's but nowhere in Tawny Man or Fool's Assassin does he act like Verity fathered Dutiful. This goes with the author telling how good an assassin Fitz is when he's not, and now claiming through Riddle and Nettle that he's not a good father when he is—a few questionable parenting choices excluded.

Anyhow, this is the story Hobb chose to tell, and ignoring my complaints on all the stories she didn't choose... I'm still not convinced. Or compelled.

There's infinitely less rape here, but that's because not much happens for the first half or two thirds of the book–the minutes and hours make the measure a bit fuzzy. Fitz is happy and horny. He's forever young while Molly's not but their sex life is A-OK. And then Molly's pregnancy happens. Listening to it made me realise that even I don't hate Molly as much as Hobb does.

While the abnormally long pregnancy after menopause for a White child in itself makes sense, I felt like Hobb was breaking her own canon here. Later, she admits as much through The Fool when he claims that he too was deceived and he was only repeating lies told to him. Which, fair, is believable after the unnecessary nonsense that happened in the Tawny Man to draw parallels between the abuse of The Fool and the Narcheska. Only, I didn't really buy it then I don't definitely buy it now.

So I'm going with the "canon creator alternative universe"-label with these books. I'll read or listen to them and then promptly adopt a personal head canon in its multitudes. And in all of those, there's no child hanging on to Fitz's shirt tails when he reunites with his Beloved.

Originally posted on Love in the Margins.

Disclaimer: The author is a friend and that has somewhat tempered my expectations. However, this book has a plot too, not just sex. Also, there's a spoiler in this review.

Joel Mason is a teacher, a co-parent to his three-year-old daughter, and dating a younger man, Dan. Then Evie's mother is fridged to allow Joel some character growth and a love story with an older man, Liam.

It takes quite a while for Joel and Liam to meet. My notes tell me their first encounter is around 20% of the Kindle file but that they don't learn each others names until after 40%. I don't mind the time spent on Joel's unravelling relationship with Dan and Claire, although some might. What I do mind that the well written expose of the beginning is wasted in infodumps instead of being used in organic discussions to show how Joel and Liam grow closer. If the purpose of this long lead-up was for the reader to mourn for Claire, the effort is wasted because she isn't given enough to do to become her own character. She exists solely in connection to Joel and Evie, and her only purpose is to catalyse a change in their lives.

This is why I didn't need a single tissue to get through the book.

As I mentioned, Joel and Liam don't get together until late in the book and subsequently their relationship is rushed. Their bonding is further curbed by the fact that Joel is a single dad. Evie is as delightful as I imagine any three-year-old to be, but her presence limits the adult interactions. It felt like Liam interacted less with her than Dan did even though Evie appeared to accept both men without any trouble.

It sounds like I didn't like the book, but I did. I liked The Little Things as a character study about a man going through a loss, coming to terms with with his fears, and learning to take emotional risks again. The fact that I didn't hate Evie goes to show just how well the child was written. Joel's grief too was relatable and real, and his relationship with his sister was one of the better things in this book.

Final Assessment: If you're looking for a tear-jerker, this isn't it. C

Source: Bought.