tobyreviewsthings

[tobyreviewsthings]

On 'Godkiller'

"When Middren falls to the Gods, yours will be the first to go."

On re-read, Godkiller was a lot better for me, despite my 4 star rating not improving. Back then, I did not actually think 4 stars of this book: I didn't like the characters and skimmed the majority of the book, mainly the end. Yes, re-reading I did run into some of the same problems I had back then. For example, despite already having read it, it still took me a while to get to grips with the world-building and the names. Again, I still struggle with the names in Godkiller (to quote myself 2 years ago: "all of the names in this book felt straight out of a fantasy name generator"). However, and I like to think of this as a positive change in my character, this time I actually made the effort to engage with the worldbuilding. I didn't skim once, and what would you know, it made the book better. One of the strengths of Hannah Kaner's Godkiller is the depth of the characters. Each character is yes, immediately, a recognizable fantasy staple. But where other fantasies tend to fail to round out these staples, Godkiller thrives. Yes, Kaner draws on tropes but uses her skill to make these characters feel real, exploring how they would actually respond to situations instead of just following what their archetype might suggest. My only qualm with the characters was how similar their POVs were - I didn't really see the point of splitting up the chapters by POV, it never really changed the insight into the scene. However, saying that, it didn't make the book worse, so really, no complaints.

“People make gods, and, for better or worse, gods make people.”

Getting onto my favorite aspect of Godkiller, Kaner's interpretation of Gods being so entwined with humans is so interesting and I cannot wait to read on in Sunbringer. This symbiotic relationship is what makes Inara and Skedi (still, after 2 years, my faves) so interesting to follow and watch. 2 years ago I called Skedi 'morally questionable', and whilst it is not an incorrect description, it is evident of my lack of engagement during my last read. What makes Skedi so interesting is that he's stuck between two selves: on one hand, he is divine, a God of White Lies with power and an urge to use said power; on the other, he doesn't remember any of that - all he knows is Inara, the love she's shown him and the love he shows her. I don't know, praying the next book explores Skedi's divine humanity. I complained about the ending last time, saying it was 'too fast paced'. Now, yes I do think Godkiller has some pacing issues - that is what the majority of reviews say and in this case I am no different - but you will not hear me complain about the ending. WOW. I distinctly remember skimming the ending last time, and what I shame that I did! What a brilliant set up for a series. The developments opening up into the sequel are incredible and provide such a gorgeous character evolution for each of them. Kissen's last chapter… wow.

All in all, a brilliant first installment with great representation, a few pacing issues and a whole lot of heart. Bring on Sunbringer.

[tobyreviewsthings]

On 'A Letter to my Transgender Daughter'

"To love that inner self, to know you're special, is something some people never experience."

After reading Tara Westover's Educated, I immediately took myself to Waterstones, needing another memoir to nurse this new found genre-love. I took a lot of photos of books that trip, wanting to return to them in future. But when I saw A Letter to my Transgender Daughter, I knew I couldn't risk not returning. I picked this book up selfishly. Pulled to it by my own transgender identity, I couldn't ignore a book written by an author with my own mother's name (yes, a pseudonym, but I arguably think that makes it even more of a sign). So, £10 down, I walked out with my new book, not knowing how enraptured I would spend the next few weeks.

"The only way to know the gender of a holly plant is to be there when it blossoms."

A Letter to my Transgender Daughter is an intensely gorgeous book filled to the brim with not only love, but proof of research, time and care taken by a mother for her daughter. The effort and knowledge put into this book is outstanding, teaching me, a transgender man, new things and viewpoints about my identity. No, this is not a gospel for trans people, and I don't want to claim that. No, this book is exactly what it says it is: it is a letter from a mother to her transgender daughter. I think if you go into this book and at any point forget that crucial context, you'll miss out on the beauty of it all. Whilst this book isn't perfect - my own mother pointed out her issues with it and the "pathologizing" of trans people within the first chapter (Whilst I don't entirely agree nor disagree with my mother on this, it did rub me the wrong way at first, but I do think my mum is perhaps blinded by her own thoughts about raising a transgender son)- I cannot get mad at it for anything I disagree with. Because this book isn't for me, or my mum, or for you, it's for Hays and her daughter. And, especially in times like these, it is such a pleasure to read a book so grounded in love and to see a trans child loved so much and so loudly.

"...the parents have been trying to unravel the mystery of this quiet child. But after transition, the child emerges."

I saw a lot of myself in this book. Similarly to Hays' daughter, I am also the youngest of 4, separated by a 7 (8) year gap. Also I, to sound redundant, am transgender. Needless to say,A Letter to my Transgender Daughter hit incredibly close to home. As previously stated, there is a ton of research poured into this book, research that has evidently allowed Hays to understand and provide what her daughter needs. For me, this is a must-read for anyone who has a trans person close to them, specifically parents of trans children. Having had 3 older children, Hays allows her education of trans politics and community to help reshape her previously garnered maternal advice, providing a rich insight for her daughter - and, subsequently, the reader.

" I fear that one day the knock at the door might no longer be a mistake. It could become law, and then taking transgender children from their homes, their families, would become a regular practice, a matter of course."

With everything awful happening to trans people right now across the globe, A Letter to my Transgender Daughter was hard to read at times. Worried by their 'knock at the door' (in which a social worker was called in response to her daughter's identity), Hays holds out hope for better future for trans people, whilst allowing skepticism and worry its place to protect. Reading about all the awful things Trump pulled during his first term - barring trans people from single-sex homeless shelters, removing discrimination protections for trans patients - and knowing how much worse it's all getting this time around, hurts. But watching Hays connect this to history and highlight the organized attacks on trans people and provide inspiring, rebellious advice to her daughter proves just how important books like this are. Time and time again, Hays warns the reader of this future we, her daughter, are facing whilst reminding and giving her daughter (...us) the ammo, education and love needed to fight back.

"Joy is a kind of rebellion. Within that rebellion, a mother's pride can be a mutiny. My love for you is riotous."

Books like this are our future. Love like this, is our future. Trans people will still exist without it, we always will. But with it, with education, with support, with history, with joy and with love, we can do so much more than just exist. We can live.