Top 5 Book Crushes

I don't actually watch that much television, or rather, I mostly just watch the same television shows over and over, so given I've shared my TV crushes it only makes sense to share my literary crushes, too. Because I do read quite a lot, though not as much as I used to, and never enough.

I could really just admit to my ardent love of Bran from Juliet Marillier's Son of the Shadows and be done with it. From my first reading to a yearly reading, I never tire of his and Liadan's story. Their dynamic is incredibly real and the way that his story unravels, such a beautiful compliment to Liadan's own, makes my heart ache every time. In fact, I might stop writing this blog just so I can read the book again.

I can't say anything about Er Lang from The Ghost Bride without spoiling some really delicious stuff. Suffice to say, if you haven't read this yet, read it YESTERDAY. Er Lang is irresistibly interesting in the way that the Doctor is: dangerous and uncanny, but you can't stop thinking about him. I actually just downloaded the audiobook version, which is narrated by the author, and it was just as delightful as the text.

While I'm anti-team anybody because I feel it is stupid and so beside the point, I was very much wooed by Peeta Mellark in The Hunger Games, and better still the way he challenges Katniss. I feel like she's a better character because of the conflict that arises not between she and Peeta and Gale, but because of what she's given the space to learn about herself, to be a flawed and curious young woman even in the face of unspeakable horrors.

Dreadnaught Stanton from The Native Star is just the sort of book fella I'm likely to fall for. He's grumpy and mysterious and gives as good as he gets with the book's protagonist. Stanton isn't what you expect him to be, and there's a tragedy at the heart of his story that just might stop yours. Sound familiar? Yeah. It's a problem.

Maybe it's because I read them growing up together or maybe it's because being bridled to Harry Potter's perspective - thereby eliminating any chance that I'd crush on him, after the fifth book - but I've always fancied Ron Weasley. He can be a total grouch and yet unspeakably tender, he makes mistakes, he hesitates, he struggles with being his own man while still being utterly devoted to the people that he cares for.

Also, he loves my girl Hermione, and that proves he's got sense.

So, who're your book crushes? Bonus points for pictures, because finding renderings of mine made writing this blog post even more of a delight.

Read Harder 2016

I can’t resist a good list or a good challenge, especially when books are involved. After taking a look at how paltry few books I was able to finish in 2015, I’m hoping the structure provided by Book Riot’s Read Harder Challenge 2016 will be what I need not only to keep reading, but also to discover some new literary loves I might not have otherwise.

To keep myself honest and to avoid scrambling for my next read, I’ve plotted out the books I’d like to read for each category. I’m not married to these and willing to swap out if I get better recommendations, so. Have a favorite that fits? Read one of these and it’s terrible? Come at me.

Also, keep me honest and play along?

Read a horror book. Christina Henry’s Alice.

Read a nonfiction book about science. George Musser’s Spooky Action at a Distance: The Phenomenon That Reimagines Space and Time--and What It Means for Black Holes, the Big Bang, and Theories of Everything.

Read a collection of essays. Ryann Britt’s Luke Skywalker Can’t Read: And Other Geeky Truths.

Read a book out loud to someone else. E.B. White’s Stuart Little.

Read a middle grade novel. Katrina Nannestad’s When Mischief Came to Town.

Read a biography. Nancy Milford’s Zelda.

Read a dystopian or post-apocalyptic novel. Marie Lu’s Legend.

Read a book originally published in the year that you were born. William Gibson’s Burning Chrome.

Listen to an audio book that has won an Audie Award. Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book.

Read a book over 500 pages long. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Americanah.

Read a book under 100 pages. Shannon Hale’s The Princess in Black.

Read a book by or about a person who identifies as transgender. Charlie Jane Anders’ Six Months, Three Days.

Read a book that is set in the Middle East. G. Willow Wilson’s Cairo.

Read a book that is by an author from Southeast Asia. Shawna Yang Ryan’s Water Ghosts.

Read a book of historical fiction set before 1900. Emily Holleman’s Cleopatra’s Shadows.

Read the first book in a series by a person of color. Zen Cho’s Sorcerer to the Crown.

Read a non-superhero comic that debuted in the last three years. Danica Novgorodoff’s The Undertaking of Lily Chen.

Read a book that was adapted into a movie, then watch the movie. Debate which is better. Gail Carson Levine’s Ella Enchanted.

Read a nonfiction book about feminism or dealing with feminist themes. Roxane Gay’s Bad Feminist.

Read a book about religion (fiction or nonfiction). Alice Hoffman’s The Dovekeepers.

Read a book about politics, in your country or another (fiction or nonfiction). Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451.

Read a food memoir. William Alexander’s 52 Loaves.

Read a play. Aristophanes’ Lysistrata.

Read a book with a main character that has a mental illness. Neal Shusterman’s Challenger Deep.

Not Your Mama's Magic System

After reading a stellar exploration of magic systems and what makes them work from author J.S. Morin, I decided to stop kicking around the idea of blogging about a few of my favorites and actually do it. While I obviously love me some good ol' Wingardium Leviosa, these are magic systems that appealed to me for sheer imagination and oddity, and went far beyond the wand and the incantation and into some truly unique territory. An early and easy favorite when I first started thinking of writing this was Garth Nix's spectacularly grim and lovely take on necromancy in The Abhorsen Trilogy, and, most recently, Clariel. Not only do the Abhorsens channel their magic through eight bells, the mythology of how it's done, the ancient history behind the efficacy of the magic, even the meticulous descriptions of Death itself and the spell-worked perils therein - it's all truly mesmerizing stuff. Dive just a single chapter into Sabriel and I expect you'll be as deeply under Saraneth's control as I am.

Most recently I was seduced by Naomi Novik's Uprooted. Her descriptions of magical workings from the perspective of someone who isn't native to it are positively enchanting. She captures the essence of the magic through a narrative lens, and each spell is almost like a little story within the story. It's also interesting to see how she pairs a novice caster with a seasoned one, providing the reader space to appreciate how the same magic in one world can still be very different. Did I mention there's singing? Because there's totally singing.

Lastly is a little known folksy steam punk gem, The Native Star, by M.K. Hobson, whose magics are as organic, physical, and irresistable. Credomancy depends upon belief, such that the stronger one believes a spell to be, it will be, and seeing the sangrimancers at work in blood... well. It's grim and glorious and honestly I don't even know why this book isn't a movie yet. One of the best steam punk books I've read, ever, and far worthier of your attention than some others that have gotten a whole lot more press.

There's a special place in my heart for the world-building that goes into magic systems, especially when those systems seem to underpin the world, when they can be appreciated both for what they are and for the incredible and terrible things a good character can do with them.

The Chosen One

I've written about the pleasures of re-reading before and, given the mounting madness of our present lives - attempting to find a new home for my work, a move, a new day job, and the unexpected closure of our child care - I've dived right into a forever favorite: the Harry Potter series.

I'm not sure there's a single reader or writer of my generation who hasn't been influenced by J.K. Rowling, whether it's losing themselves in her work or wishing those of who can would just get lost. I began reading when I was in high school, the spring prior to the release of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I was working in a library at the time, and I remember getting on the wait list for the fourth book and marveling at the hundreds of names ahead of mine... and the hundreds of copies the library had pre-ordered. Harry's pursuit of the Triwizard cup has always been my favorite of the seven, and I can only liken it to my childhood love of the Baby-Sitters Club Super Specials - that's blasphemous, right? But, really. They were bigger stories and different; familiar faces, unique challenges.

In the years since I read these the first time, I'd forgotten just how truly sly the Weasley twins were, how really awful Ron could be (and how easy he is to forgive), Hermione's unapologetically dogged nature... what a prat Harry sometimes could be. My love for Minerva McGonagall will go on and on, and while I'm no more sympathetic towards Professor Snape, I am considerably less willing to trust Albus Dumbledore.

But what surprised me most, and probably shouldn't have surprised me at all, was how well these books have weathered not only the years since their publication and my initial exposure, but me growing up. Though I was well past the age when I might have received a Hogwarts letter myself, I was still so young. I connected with the characters, I laughed at their jokes, I cried with them and was frightened with them. That hasn't changed, even though I know that I have. Harry's story is a timeless one, and I hope it's as much of a treat at forty as it was at (a little more than) thirty.

Because I can't wait to read along with my gals when they get big.

Turn and Face the Strange

I'm homeless. Or rather, my book is about to be.

My publisher, Fable Press, is succumbing to the fate that befalls many a small press and closing their doors within the next few months. I'll forever be grateful to them for taking a chance on my work and on me, and for bringing the world within The Hidden Icon to so many new readers.

I took a chance with them, too, and I don't regret it. I don't think it's possible to regret being published, ever, no matter the outcome. I got to feel like a Very Real Writer at Ohioana. The Hidden Icon was featured by my publisher at BEA last year. Friends and family members frequently shared photographs of my book on the shelves of their local libraries, and I scribbled my name in all of the copies at my favorite local bookstore.

People said crazy amazing things about it.

"Jillian is one of those rare writers whose characters communicate with a brush of hands what people in bodice rippers need pages of purple prose to say. The ending brought the house down."

"As a lifelong fan of fantasy, I have learned to settle for quick, flat characterization at times and for shaky or lazy world-building at others. I did not have to settle at all reading this book, and what a joy that was!"

"This book was written with flair, grace, and intricacy; it teased my brain, played with my heart, and left me desperate for more."

So, what's next?

Choosing not to self-publish means The Hidden Icon will no longer be available for sale on Amazon, so, get it while the gettin's good. Or, snag a copy for free. I'll be running several giveaways over the next few weeks on Goodreads. Rights to the book will revert to me soon, so, hopefully it will be out there in the world again someday.

I'll be starting closer to scratch than I thought it would be when it comes time to pitch the second book, but I'm not (too) scared. I can't be. There's too much writing and baking and loving on babies and living to be done.

Five Favorite Reads of 2014

I'm embarrassed by how little I've managed to read this year. But I really ought to be kinder to myself, given I was enormously pregnant during a long summer in a vigorous teaching program, and then, you know, I had a baby. But I'm no good at taking it easy on myself, which is why I've already finished two books this month and am working on a third. You're likely to hear about both when I share my favorite reads of 2015, because, so good.

Yet, there were a few gems among my too-few reads of 2014.

The standout favorite for the year was easily The Girl With All the Gifts, which I can't hardly say a thing about without spoiling the early reveal. Needless to say, it takes a genre that I thought didn't have much more to offer in a brilliant direction. It's gruesome and fantastically imagined and heart-achingly lovely. If you read anything I read this past year, read this. Because I want to talk to you about it.

I have a love-hate relationship with The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic, because while I am utterly enamored with the premise and the world Emily Croy Barker so painstakingly creates, she needed an editor. Badly. Possibly a machete. And as much as I was willing to float along when the narrative slowed, there was very little payoff at the book's end. I was as livid to learn there would be more after reading for so long assuming I'd get some closure as I was salivating at the prospect of more. I guess that means it's a winner?

Where'd You Go, Bernadette was a bizarre, clever romp I would never have picked up for myself and that's why I'm so glad I read with some gals who have such good taste. The fact that the author wrote for Arrested Development isn't surprising, but unlike many - and possibly all - of the Bluths, the quirky characters that populate this novel have real heart, in addition to being delightfully off-kilter. It's like Portlandia meets Gilmore Girls.

Gidion's Hunt is The Lost Boys film I actually wanted. Bill Blume's narrator is genuine and genuinely likeable, not even just for a teenage boy, and there's some real bite to this vampire yarn. He tells me he's editing the sequel, and I'm trying to be the polite writerly friend and not say, Gimme.

While I was a little fearful of reading Longbourn and sullying forever my love of Pride & Prejudice, I can now heartily recommend it to anyone who wants more from their Austen-inspired work than just more shirtless Darcy (though that's cool, too). The intimacy in Longbourn is of a different kind, but no less tantalizing. I was fascinated from a historical perspective as well as a literary one. I also liked getting more reasons to despise Wickham.

So, there you have it. What did you read this year, and how many nights of good sleep did you miss reading it?

(Book) Skeletons in my Closet

I am not one of those people who feels they must finish every book they begin reading. I'm not even the sort of person who dutifully finishes every book they're assigned to read, if my college career is any indication. Shame on me, right? The thing is, there are just too many books I want to read that I know I'll never have the time for that sticking with something just because I've given it a chance seems silly. My to-read shelf on Goodreads is embarrassingly stuffed full of stories just waiting for a library loan or a Kindle sale. And I'm adding to it all the time, begging book recommendations from friends and stalking places like Epic Reads (and not just because their Instagram is delicious).

I've also given up books I'd wager some of you absolutely loved. I submit myself to your judgment and soon-to-be lower opinion of me.

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke

I think I tried to read this one three times, given the heaps of praise dumped upon it by so many trusted reader friends. But there was something about the prose that was so off-putting I just could never get very far. I tend to have trouble with period fantasy - is that a genre? - that takes itself too seriously, if only because all of my ungracious eye-rolling makes it difficult to follow the lines of text. I'm a bad person. I know.

The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch

I can't even tell you how excited I was to read this after a recommendation from one of the coolest reader-types that I know, and how I slogged my way through about forty pages before drifting shamefully away. Is there such a thing as dude bro fantasy? Because, yeah. This one was not for me.

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss

See above. Same feels.

The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wecker

Ninety pages in and yet another character's perspective introduced, I returned this one to the library. Maybe I lack the focus for such a graceful novel right now, but I wanted more of a linear narrative given how rich the world Wecker had already established. I'm still intensely interested in what's to become of the golem and the jinni, but it felt like I was more willing to follow them to find out than Wecker was. I feel so dirty admitting what an impatient reader I am.

The Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood

My devotion to Atwood is serious business, such that failing to finish reading the MaddAddam trilogy - among a scant handful of books of hers I haven't read - haunts me. Especially now that I know I'm going to be dead or a head in a jar when her latest work becomes available for public consumption. But I've started and stopped this one several times to no avail. Oryx and Crake left me in a place I guess I'm not quite willing to leave.

So, please, alleviate my guilt. What book skeletons have you got in your closet?

I Don't Write in Costume, But if I Did...

I love costuming and cosplay, which is actually not the nerdiest thing there is to know about me, but still.

I am especially fond of book cosplay, which is perhaps why, though I rail against descriptions of mundane clothes in books - who cares how distressed your boyfriend's jeans are, YA heroine? - I love, love, love when a character's garb is unusual or symbolic in some way and the author takes some time to describe it in detail. Because these things make great costumes; specifically, great costumes I wish I had the time and resources to make, and the opportunity to squeal in delight when recognized at a con.

I've had a dream of cosplaying Sabriel from Garth Nix's Abhorsen trilogy for years and may yet, if I can connive a method of embroidering dozens of silver keys on a great swathe of surcoat fabric. And, you know, find seven bells of graduating sizes, because this cosplayer has not yet ventured into the realm of mold making, and probably should resist dumping money into yet another hobby.

What I love about Nix's descriptions isn't just that the clothes are beautiful, but that they have meaning in the world the characters occupy, that they're instantly recognizable, that their weight is both physical and figurative. I felt the same way when reading Leigh Bardugo's Grisha series, with the keftas. How freakin' cool are the keftas?! Likewise the stillsuits in Dune.

As a writer, I've had characters glancing in mirrors beaten out of me, so sneaking in the opportunity to dress somebody requires a bit of creativity. There was one passage, in particular, where I allowed myself to linger describing a garment that Eiren wears late in the book:

"Embroidered along the hood and sleeves were... detailed renderings, scenes and figures playing out the details of their lives.

But it was not any life, it was mine. My mother carried me as an infant from the birthing chair to my father’s arms, Jurnus and I raced through the streets and the sand. I bent my head in prayer, I burned ritual herbs, I braided Esbat’s hair and soothed Lista’s vanity. I went into exile with my parents, brother, and sisters. The figures were tiny and but a handful of knots each, but I recognized them all, and could see when Morainn and Gannet entered my life, crawling dark and glinting with gilded thread in the capitol tower.

We looked like figures of myth, all splashes of color and fine, spidery features. It was breathtaking, and I could hardly imagine wearing such a life for all I had lived it."

While I would never cosplay one of my own characters, it is perhaps a not-so-secret and ridiculously vain writerly hope of mine that somebody else someday might want to. I've got some very particular notions about Gannet's mask that defy description, if anyone's interested.

Charisma is a Class Skill

I've leveled up as a writer.

Or, if you're more of a classic console type, I've punched my head into a brick, blinking with promise, and stumbled over the great fungal accolade that is an invitation to a writer's conference.

I was recently accepted to the Ohioana Book Festival, and I've been haunting their website in hopes of seeing whose company I won't be worthy of keeping (not to mention the many readers of my forever-home state). There will be books. There will be food trucks. There will be many readers licking greasy fingers before lovingly turning the pages of their latest acquisitions from the book fair. Who knows, maybe I'll even sign a book or two and my chicken scratch will seem enigmatic rather than the academic handicap it has been since high school. At the very least, all festival authors are asked to participate in at least one panel, and as I expect lame video game references won't be welcome, I'll keep you posted about my schedule on the events page.

And there will be ZenCha. Because a visit to Columbus without a visit to the Short North to guzzle tea would be unheard of. Don't make me drink alone?

The festival is on 10 May, which also seems like rather a good deadline to finish the draft of book two. It hounds me day and night as relentlessly as my toddler daughter but would, if books had the equivalent of child protective services, be seized for neglect. I suppose it's a good thing books don't have rights.

Yet.

Five Favorite Reads of 2013

I've not done too shabby of a job reading this year, even with a demanding little person to care for and, whenever possible, read in front of. Ironically enough, I also have my daughter to thank for some of the gems I've read this year, and my mom's group book club whose members believe as heartily as I do that reading > housekeeping. Julianna Baggott's Pure was weird and thrilling and unexpectedly brilliant. I remember her name bandied about when I was in graduate school, so I hardly expected to love a speculative novel from her (not because she's not awesome, but because my graduate school experience was not what I would call genre-fiction friendly). But I totally did. If you like your post-apocalyptic futures a little, okay, a lot on the creepy side, your heroines complex and vulnerable, read this book. You will not be disappointed.

I don't need to tell you why Veronica Roth's Divergent was amazing, because you've probably read it already. I don't know why I didn't read it sooner and wish I had, especially since the reaction I've gathered from the internet in regards to Allegiant has scared me off of continuing the series (for now). Also, I have so many feels, none of them good, about the upcoming film adaptation.

Alif the Unseen was hands-down the most imaginative book I read all year, possibly in years, a novel so rich in imagination I was left wanting for fanfiction at the end. But really good, depthy fanfiction full of capricious djinn. The characters are dynamic and a few of them unexpectedly endearing, and Wilson's hackers look nothing like this. Thank goodness. (I do love Jonny Lee Miller and Fisher Stevens, though; have you heard Fisher Stevens read Christopher Moore? Fantastic.)

You may want to throw Eli Brown's Cinnamon and Gunpowder against the wall when you get to the end, but don't let that stop you from devouring it anyway. Because with pirates and food porn what else, really, can you do? It's probably the most literary of these, but only in the best of ways. Except for that damned ending.

While the rest of these really aren't in any sort of order, my favorite novel of the year is the one I finished most recently, and literally lost days of my life daydreaming over once I had done. Yangsze Choo's The Ghost Bride was likened in a couple of reviews to a grown-up version of Spirited Away, and it's so, so true (though I've always immensely enjoyed Spirited Away as a grown-up, and I think the themes are timeless). The world of the dead was more vivid and compelling than the narrator's reality, the romance surprising, and the unexpected humor! I just can't even get into all of the things that I loved without giving some of the best bits away. Just read it.

And an honorable mention because I was so pleased with this little gem and would not have picked it up were it not for the fact that it's from my publisher, but Winona Kent's Persistence of Memory is a really delightful little romp into Regency England. Accidental time travel and intrigue and romance? Yes, please. I only wish the cover did it better justice. Get a girl and a clock and a frock on there, already.