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Cumberland (1142 KP) created a post in The Smashbomb Book Club
Jun 13, 2019
Lottie disney bookworm (1056 KP) rated Cinderella is Dead in Books
Jun 6, 2020
Contains spoilers, click to show
Thank you to Netgalley and Kalynn Bayron for giving me the opportunity to read an advance copy of Cinderella is Dead in exchange for an honest review.
With such a strong title to a novel, it’s easy to predict that an author would struggle to maintain the sense of danger and mystery that is immediately evoked. However, as Kalynn Bayron opens on the revelation that Cinderella has been dead for 200 years and introduces us to two young women hiding from those who are sure to kill them, I think it is safe to say that she has the drama side of things covered!
The kingdom of Mersaille was once ruled by none other than Prince Charming and Cinderella. After her untimely death, Cinderella’s tale is held in almost biblical stature for generations, with young girls reciting it each night in preparation for their own chance to attend an annual ball once they turn 16 and wishing for their own fairy godmother to grant their happily ever after.
However, as the reader enters the town of Lille 200 years later, we witness that life within the kingdom is far from that of a fairytale. The balls that act as a tribute to Cinderella are mandatory meat markets with lecherous “suitors”, domestic violence and the suppression of women is commonplace and the ruler, Prince Manford, thrives on the power, fear and violence.
The reader witnesses this abysmal society through Bayron’s use of a first-person perspective: that of our protagonist Sophia. Sophia is everything a modern protagonist should be: she questions the unjust world around her and, having just turned 16 is preparing to attend her first ball, not with excitement, but with trepidation.
Sophia reveals to the reader that a girl only has three chances to be chosen by a suitor at the ball, after that she is considered forfeit, taken away from her family in disgrace and placed either into a workhouse or service. Men, however, are under no such conditions: they can attend balls when they wish and can choose a number of girls if they want to. Many girls’ singular hope is to be chosen by a good man at the ball, one who will not beat her, perhaps even one who will take them away from Lille. This is not enough for Sophia, she wants more for her life and, as she says herself:
“I don’t want to be saved by some knight in shining armor. I’d like to be the one in the armor, and I’d like to be the one doing the saving.”
At the beginning of the book, Sophia’s main gripe with the society she lives in is that it will not allow her to be with Erin, the girl she loves. As the book continues, the underlying theme of the rights and treatment of women strengthens, along with Sophia, but the first few pages at least are centered on the teenage relationship between Sophia and Erin.
What I absolutely adored about Bayron’s writing style here is the complete lack of shock or awe in this relationship: it is mentioned right from the start and at no point in this novel does Sophia “come out”, there is simply no need. All those around Sophia, who know her and care for her, are aware of her feelings for Erin and, although Sophia is occasionally referred to as “different”, the author chooses to abolish any unnecessary labels within her novel.
Unfortunately, Bayron does not have an easy ride in store for Sophia: reeling from a firm separation from Erin, Sophia is cast a lifeline, an “easy way out” in the form of a local boy who is also “different”. Sadly, this option is quickly and dramatically ripped away from her: forcing her to find her strength pretty damn quickly as she begins a life as an outlaw.
Along her path, Sophia meets two strong female characters: Constance and Amina. Although, wildly different, both these women play a significant role in Sophia’s self-discovery.
Amina is as far from the traditional fairy godmother image as you can get and, although she feels guilt for her previous actions, it takes meeting Sophia for her to recognise her previous denial and to help change the way of the world. Amina is a protector to Sophia right to the end, in her own unique way.
Constance, what can we say about Constance? I defy anyone to read this book and not fall in love with this girl! Constance possesses the strength that Sophia does not yet recognise within herself; she is fiery and, as a descendant of an “evil stepsister”, leads a resistance movement to uncover and publicise the truth about the real tale of Cinderella. Despite, technically saving Sophia towards the beginning of the story, Constance is not Sophia’s saviour: nor is Sophia the saviour; however, the power that they find together is monumental.
Constance is a complete juxtaposition to Erin: whereas Erin accepts the rules of society out of fear for herself and her family, Constance actively rebels against them. It is almost as if they represent the paths Sophia has to choose from. Nevertheless, along their adventure, Sophia and Constance’s relationship strengthens into love. This is no fairytale, love at first sight deal though! If anything, the slow-burning romance between the two made it more believable and I really appreciated that Sophia didn’t just rebound due to Erin’s choices: she had been burnt and she was still unsure of her own feelings never mind anyone else’s.
At the hands of Bayron, Sophia experiences heartbreak, friendship, murder, love and conspiracy: she is on the brink of danger too many times to count and is constantly second guessing who she can trust. Yet, it is clear that the author adores her main character: Sophia’s journey to realise that she is enough is incredible and the strength that she finds within herself is inspirational. Sophia is also surrounded by a cast of strong female characters: there are no Prince Charming’s in this novel that’s for sure!
I wasn’t that far into this book when I decided I need to read more of Kalynn Bayron’s work. I love how there are no chapters in this novel, we are taken on this relentless journey with Sophia: the reader is not given a chance to stop and take stock, reflect or rest until it is all over and this creates the tensest experience. Even we don’t know who to trust towards the end!
‘Cinderella is Dead’ is powerful, thought-provoking and is constantly leaving the reader guessing. On a basic level the novel deals with violence, love, politics and a little bit of necromancy thrown in there for good measure. However, the intelligent writing as well as the massive plot twist and the subjects of LGBTQ love, women’s rights and domestic violence lifts this novel from that basic level into, what I predict could be a bestseller.
With such a strong title to a novel, it’s easy to predict that an author would struggle to maintain the sense of danger and mystery that is immediately evoked. However, as Kalynn Bayron opens on the revelation that Cinderella has been dead for 200 years and introduces us to two young women hiding from those who are sure to kill them, I think it is safe to say that she has the drama side of things covered!
The kingdom of Mersaille was once ruled by none other than Prince Charming and Cinderella. After her untimely death, Cinderella’s tale is held in almost biblical stature for generations, with young girls reciting it each night in preparation for their own chance to attend an annual ball once they turn 16 and wishing for their own fairy godmother to grant their happily ever after.
However, as the reader enters the town of Lille 200 years later, we witness that life within the kingdom is far from that of a fairytale. The balls that act as a tribute to Cinderella are mandatory meat markets with lecherous “suitors”, domestic violence and the suppression of women is commonplace and the ruler, Prince Manford, thrives on the power, fear and violence.
The reader witnesses this abysmal society through Bayron’s use of a first-person perspective: that of our protagonist Sophia. Sophia is everything a modern protagonist should be: she questions the unjust world around her and, having just turned 16 is preparing to attend her first ball, not with excitement, but with trepidation.
Sophia reveals to the reader that a girl only has three chances to be chosen by a suitor at the ball, after that she is considered forfeit, taken away from her family in disgrace and placed either into a workhouse or service. Men, however, are under no such conditions: they can attend balls when they wish and can choose a number of girls if they want to. Many girls’ singular hope is to be chosen by a good man at the ball, one who will not beat her, perhaps even one who will take them away from Lille. This is not enough for Sophia, she wants more for her life and, as she says herself:
“I don’t want to be saved by some knight in shining armor. I’d like to be the one in the armor, and I’d like to be the one doing the saving.”
At the beginning of the book, Sophia’s main gripe with the society she lives in is that it will not allow her to be with Erin, the girl she loves. As the book continues, the underlying theme of the rights and treatment of women strengthens, along with Sophia, but the first few pages at least are centered on the teenage relationship between Sophia and Erin.
What I absolutely adored about Bayron’s writing style here is the complete lack of shock or awe in this relationship: it is mentioned right from the start and at no point in this novel does Sophia “come out”, there is simply no need. All those around Sophia, who know her and care for her, are aware of her feelings for Erin and, although Sophia is occasionally referred to as “different”, the author chooses to abolish any unnecessary labels within her novel.
Unfortunately, Bayron does not have an easy ride in store for Sophia: reeling from a firm separation from Erin, Sophia is cast a lifeline, an “easy way out” in the form of a local boy who is also “different”. Sadly, this option is quickly and dramatically ripped away from her: forcing her to find her strength pretty damn quickly as she begins a life as an outlaw.
Along her path, Sophia meets two strong female characters: Constance and Amina. Although, wildly different, both these women play a significant role in Sophia’s self-discovery.
Amina is as far from the traditional fairy godmother image as you can get and, although she feels guilt for her previous actions, it takes meeting Sophia for her to recognise her previous denial and to help change the way of the world. Amina is a protector to Sophia right to the end, in her own unique way.
Constance, what can we say about Constance? I defy anyone to read this book and not fall in love with this girl! Constance possesses the strength that Sophia does not yet recognise within herself; she is fiery and, as a descendant of an “evil stepsister”, leads a resistance movement to uncover and publicise the truth about the real tale of Cinderella. Despite, technically saving Sophia towards the beginning of the story, Constance is not Sophia’s saviour: nor is Sophia the saviour; however, the power that they find together is monumental.
Constance is a complete juxtaposition to Erin: whereas Erin accepts the rules of society out of fear for herself and her family, Constance actively rebels against them. It is almost as if they represent the paths Sophia has to choose from. Nevertheless, along their adventure, Sophia and Constance’s relationship strengthens into love. This is no fairytale, love at first sight deal though! If anything, the slow-burning romance between the two made it more believable and I really appreciated that Sophia didn’t just rebound due to Erin’s choices: she had been burnt and she was still unsure of her own feelings never mind anyone else’s.
At the hands of Bayron, Sophia experiences heartbreak, friendship, murder, love and conspiracy: she is on the brink of danger too many times to count and is constantly second guessing who she can trust. Yet, it is clear that the author adores her main character: Sophia’s journey to realise that she is enough is incredible and the strength that she finds within herself is inspirational. Sophia is also surrounded by a cast of strong female characters: there are no Prince Charming’s in this novel that’s for sure!
I wasn’t that far into this book when I decided I need to read more of Kalynn Bayron’s work. I love how there are no chapters in this novel, we are taken on this relentless journey with Sophia: the reader is not given a chance to stop and take stock, reflect or rest until it is all over and this creates the tensest experience. Even we don’t know who to trust towards the end!
‘Cinderella is Dead’ is powerful, thought-provoking and is constantly leaving the reader guessing. On a basic level the novel deals with violence, love, politics and a little bit of necromancy thrown in there for good measure. However, the intelligent writing as well as the massive plot twist and the subjects of LGBTQ love, women’s rights and domestic violence lifts this novel from that basic level into, what I predict could be a bestseller.
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From the New York Times bestselling author of The Stolen Child comes a hypnotic literary horror...
Mandy and G.D. Burkhead (26 KP) rated The Grey Bastards in Books
May 20, 2018
Shelf Life – The Grey Bastards Exemplifies Grimdark Fantasy at Its Damn Finest
Contains spoilers, click to show
The Grey Bastards is a fun, foul-mouthed read. If you’re turned off by bad language, steamy sex, or a good plot with plenty of action and twists, then this book isn’t for you. The Grey Bastards falls into the fantasy sub-genre known as grimdark. Where high fantasy has your Tolkien beautiful and noble elves, dwarves, humans, and wizards with epic battles between good and evil, grimdark takes all of that and covers it in shit, pus, and blood. Notice how in high fantasy nobody ever takes a piss or fucks? In grimdark, everyone does.
But don’t be fooled into thinking this book will be any less intelligent, epic, or heartfelt for it. The Grey Bastards is all of that and more. The novel follows Jackal, a half-breed orc living in the Lot Lands, the barren desert wasteland of Hispartha. He is a Grey Bastard, one of many half-orc hoofs, each protecting its own small town in the Lots. Members of a hoof are elite warriors that ride out on their Barbarians—giant warthogs—and slaughter invading bands of orcs.
Hispartha is a vibrant world, with a mix of fantastical species (orcs, half-orcs, elves, humans, halflings, and centaurs) with unique cultures and religions. Hispartha itself takes influences from Reconquista Spain, which is especially noticeable in the nomenclature, geography, and architecture.
The primarily atheistic half-orcs recently won their freedom from slavery at the hands of humans. Humans treat the half-orcs like second-class citizens, but tolerate them because of their strength, using them as a shield from the orcs. The elves are beautiful, reclusive, and probably the most cliché; there is one important elf character, but for the most part, we don’t get a good look into their culture in the first book. The centaurs worship Romanesque deities and go on crazed, Bacchanalian killing sprees during the blood moon.
Besides the half-orcs, the halflings are perhaps the most interesting. I still have a hard time visualizing them, trying to figure out if they are thin, pixie-like creatures or more stocky like dwarves. Their small stature and black skin makes me think of pygmies. They worship a god they expect will reincarnate someday, (view spoiler)
One thing that has always annoyed me about fantasy is that many authors feel that the characters of their world, being pre-industrial and thus “medieval,” must all be white, straight, Christian (or proto-Christian), cisgender males. If a woman appears at all is to act as the damsel, prize, or, if she’s lucky, a mystical enchantress to guide the heroes or provide a maguffin. It has come to the point in which this has become a tired and accepted baseline for fantasy. I don’t necessarily think that these fantasy authors are intentionally trying to be uninclusive, so much as they just seem to forget that other groups of people can exist in fantasy thanks to its fathers, Tolkien and Lewis.
But enough with my rant, the purpose of which is to highlight why I am often drawn to grimdark fantasy: at the very least I know that women, people of color, lgbt people, and other religions will be present, even if they are often victimized. This is because grimdark fantasy honestly depicts the horrors of rape, war, murder, slavery, and racism (or rather, speciesism in most cases) and has heroes and villains that are morally grey.
However, many authors describe these atrocities and then leave it at that, assuming that simply depicting them is enough to make a book mature and meaningful. They often fail to make any sort of statement on evil, and thus can seem to be, at best, blindly accepting it and, at worst, glorifying it (this often happens in the cases of magnificent bastard characters, who are absolute monsters but are so charming you almost respect or like them).
Jonathan French, however, does not fall short of the mark as many authors do, and for two main reasons: humor and humanity.
Let’s start with the humor. This book is hilarious. I mean in the I literally laughed out loud while reading it way. Sure, the jokes are often crass, but I have a dirty mind, so inappropriate humor is my favorite kind. The dialogue is especially top-notch, and the interactions between Jackal and his friends Fetching and Oats feel genuine, full of in-jokes, insults, and sexually-charged humor, all of which are exactly how I interact with my own close friends. And every major character in this book is so damn witty that I’m honestly jealous of them. If I could be quick enough to make even one of their zingers at the right time in a conversation, I would feel proud of myself for the rest of the day.
Humor is necessary to prevent any grimdark fantasy from becoming too over-the-top or depressing. And honestly, humor is needed most when the world is a dark and frightening place. But too much humor could accidentally downplay the point of grimdark: the brutally honest depiction of the atrocities that people are capable of.
And this is where it is important to have an element of humanity. By this I mean that the “good guys” must make some action or statement on those atrocities. Too often I read or watch hardened badass characters with no emotion who can watch a person get tortured and killed without flinching (maybe even do it themselves) and who never stop to question the nature of their society (even as part of their character growth), and I have difficulty finding them at all relatable or even the least bit interesting.
Now, often for this type of character, he or she is dead inside as a coping mechanism and part of their character arc is learning to allow themselves to feel their repressed emotions: heartbreak, anger, fear, etc. This can be done very well (see The Hunger Games for a great example—dystopian scifi and grimdark fantasy have very similar undertones). But most times it just ends up falling flat.
But Jackal already starts out with more personality than most grimdark protagonists. He is a humorous and light-hearted person. Sure, he lives in a desert wasteland, his race is entirely created by rape, he’s treated as a second-class citizen, and his life and the lives of those around him are in constant danger of rape and/or murder by invading orcs or blood-crazed centaurs. But despite all of that, he still has a sense of humor, people he loves, a community, ambitions, moral code, and all of the other things that these protagonists are often lacking.
Don’t get me wrong, he can be an asshole, and he’s often acts rashly before he thinks. But the scene that really stuck with me the most was [when Jackal and the wizard Crafty come across an unconscious elf sex-slave. I was expecting him to say something along the lines of “There’s nothing we can do for her, we have to save ourselves” or “This isn’t any of our business” or “It would be best to just put her out of her mercy.” These are the typical lines that a grimdark protagonist might utter while their companion—accused of being a bleeding heart—frees the slave. But this was not the case. Jackal and Crafty both immediately set out to free the girl and steal her away from her owner, despite the danger to themselves. And when he comes across an entire castle-full of these women, Jackal again sets about freeing them without a moment’s hesitation. (hide spoiler)]
And it’s no surprise that Jackal has a serious problem with rape. As I’ve mentioned before, half-orcs are entirely the product of roving bands of orcs raping human, elven, or even half-orc women. [When Jackal learns that Starling, the elf slave he rescued, is pregnant with a half-orc baby, he is not only furious with the orcs that gang-raped her, but also disturbed by the fact that elven society shuns any of their women who have been raped, and that these victims often end up taking their own lives rather than give birth to an impure half-elf. (hide spoiler)]
Furthermore, Jackal, unlike many people in Hispartha, does not buy into misogyny or sexism. His best friend Fetching is the first female half-orc to have joined a group of riders. Not only does Jackal respect Fetching, he understands the emotional turmoil that she is dealing with being the first female rider and how she overcompensates as a result to earn the respect of the other men.
While there is quite a bit of speciesism (pretty much none of the species get along with one another), the inhabitants of Hispartha come in every skin color and nobody gives a damn. Furthermore, sexuality is primarily treated as each person’s individual preference and nobody else’s business. While characters may make jokes about acting “backy” (gay), these are made in good humor between friends, and nobody gets particularly offended by them. Fetching is herself openly bisexual (though she seems to suppress her heterosexual desires more than her homosexual ones out of that same need to be “one of the boys”), and Oats and Jackal are one of my favorite bromantic pairings.
Grimdark fantasy can often be depressing to read. But Jonathan French does an excellent job of infusing hope into his narrative. The story actually has a happier ending than I was expecting. [I was especially pleased when Jackal chooses Fetching to be the new leader of the hoof (she is voted in unanimously by the other riders). I find it incredibly annoying in books and movies when revolutionaries/usurpers decide to appoint themselves leaders, as the former does not qualify you for the latter. Part of Jackal’s arc is realizing that he is not meant to lead the hoof like he’d once desired. (hide spoiler)]
For the sequel, The True Bastards, I’m hoping to see [if a cure can be found for the thrice-blood child now infected with plague, how Fetching is doing leading the hoof, and what the mysterious Starling is up to (I don’t buy for a second that she’s killed herself). And of course, I fully expect that Jackal is going to have to fulfill his empty promise to the halfling’s resurrected god, Belico.
But don’t be fooled into thinking this book will be any less intelligent, epic, or heartfelt for it. The Grey Bastards is all of that and more. The novel follows Jackal, a half-breed orc living in the Lot Lands, the barren desert wasteland of Hispartha. He is a Grey Bastard, one of many half-orc hoofs, each protecting its own small town in the Lots. Members of a hoof are elite warriors that ride out on their Barbarians—giant warthogs—and slaughter invading bands of orcs.
Hispartha is a vibrant world, with a mix of fantastical species (orcs, half-orcs, elves, humans, halflings, and centaurs) with unique cultures and religions. Hispartha itself takes influences from Reconquista Spain, which is especially noticeable in the nomenclature, geography, and architecture.
The primarily atheistic half-orcs recently won their freedom from slavery at the hands of humans. Humans treat the half-orcs like second-class citizens, but tolerate them because of their strength, using them as a shield from the orcs. The elves are beautiful, reclusive, and probably the most cliché; there is one important elf character, but for the most part, we don’t get a good look into their culture in the first book. The centaurs worship Romanesque deities and go on crazed, Bacchanalian killing sprees during the blood moon.
Besides the half-orcs, the halflings are perhaps the most interesting. I still have a hard time visualizing them, trying to figure out if they are thin, pixie-like creatures or more stocky like dwarves. Their small stature and black skin makes me think of pygmies. They worship a god they expect will reincarnate someday, (view spoiler)
One thing that has always annoyed me about fantasy is that many authors feel that the characters of their world, being pre-industrial and thus “medieval,” must all be white, straight, Christian (or proto-Christian), cisgender males. If a woman appears at all is to act as the damsel, prize, or, if she’s lucky, a mystical enchantress to guide the heroes or provide a maguffin. It has come to the point in which this has become a tired and accepted baseline for fantasy. I don’t necessarily think that these fantasy authors are intentionally trying to be uninclusive, so much as they just seem to forget that other groups of people can exist in fantasy thanks to its fathers, Tolkien and Lewis.
But enough with my rant, the purpose of which is to highlight why I am often drawn to grimdark fantasy: at the very least I know that women, people of color, lgbt people, and other religions will be present, even if they are often victimized. This is because grimdark fantasy honestly depicts the horrors of rape, war, murder, slavery, and racism (or rather, speciesism in most cases) and has heroes and villains that are morally grey.
However, many authors describe these atrocities and then leave it at that, assuming that simply depicting them is enough to make a book mature and meaningful. They often fail to make any sort of statement on evil, and thus can seem to be, at best, blindly accepting it and, at worst, glorifying it (this often happens in the cases of magnificent bastard characters, who are absolute monsters but are so charming you almost respect or like them).
Jonathan French, however, does not fall short of the mark as many authors do, and for two main reasons: humor and humanity.
Let’s start with the humor. This book is hilarious. I mean in the I literally laughed out loud while reading it way. Sure, the jokes are often crass, but I have a dirty mind, so inappropriate humor is my favorite kind. The dialogue is especially top-notch, and the interactions between Jackal and his friends Fetching and Oats feel genuine, full of in-jokes, insults, and sexually-charged humor, all of which are exactly how I interact with my own close friends. And every major character in this book is so damn witty that I’m honestly jealous of them. If I could be quick enough to make even one of their zingers at the right time in a conversation, I would feel proud of myself for the rest of the day.
Humor is necessary to prevent any grimdark fantasy from becoming too over-the-top or depressing. And honestly, humor is needed most when the world is a dark and frightening place. But too much humor could accidentally downplay the point of grimdark: the brutally honest depiction of the atrocities that people are capable of.
And this is where it is important to have an element of humanity. By this I mean that the “good guys” must make some action or statement on those atrocities. Too often I read or watch hardened badass characters with no emotion who can watch a person get tortured and killed without flinching (maybe even do it themselves) and who never stop to question the nature of their society (even as part of their character growth), and I have difficulty finding them at all relatable or even the least bit interesting.
Now, often for this type of character, he or she is dead inside as a coping mechanism and part of their character arc is learning to allow themselves to feel their repressed emotions: heartbreak, anger, fear, etc. This can be done very well (see The Hunger Games for a great example—dystopian scifi and grimdark fantasy have very similar undertones). But most times it just ends up falling flat.
But Jackal already starts out with more personality than most grimdark protagonists. He is a humorous and light-hearted person. Sure, he lives in a desert wasteland, his race is entirely created by rape, he’s treated as a second-class citizen, and his life and the lives of those around him are in constant danger of rape and/or murder by invading orcs or blood-crazed centaurs. But despite all of that, he still has a sense of humor, people he loves, a community, ambitions, moral code, and all of the other things that these protagonists are often lacking.
Don’t get me wrong, he can be an asshole, and he’s often acts rashly before he thinks. But the scene that really stuck with me the most was [when Jackal and the wizard Crafty come across an unconscious elf sex-slave. I was expecting him to say something along the lines of “There’s nothing we can do for her, we have to save ourselves” or “This isn’t any of our business” or “It would be best to just put her out of her mercy.” These are the typical lines that a grimdark protagonist might utter while their companion—accused of being a bleeding heart—frees the slave. But this was not the case. Jackal and Crafty both immediately set out to free the girl and steal her away from her owner, despite the danger to themselves. And when he comes across an entire castle-full of these women, Jackal again sets about freeing them without a moment’s hesitation. (hide spoiler)]
And it’s no surprise that Jackal has a serious problem with rape. As I’ve mentioned before, half-orcs are entirely the product of roving bands of orcs raping human, elven, or even half-orc women. [When Jackal learns that Starling, the elf slave he rescued, is pregnant with a half-orc baby, he is not only furious with the orcs that gang-raped her, but also disturbed by the fact that elven society shuns any of their women who have been raped, and that these victims often end up taking their own lives rather than give birth to an impure half-elf. (hide spoiler)]
Furthermore, Jackal, unlike many people in Hispartha, does not buy into misogyny or sexism. His best friend Fetching is the first female half-orc to have joined a group of riders. Not only does Jackal respect Fetching, he understands the emotional turmoil that she is dealing with being the first female rider and how she overcompensates as a result to earn the respect of the other men.
While there is quite a bit of speciesism (pretty much none of the species get along with one another), the inhabitants of Hispartha come in every skin color and nobody gives a damn. Furthermore, sexuality is primarily treated as each person’s individual preference and nobody else’s business. While characters may make jokes about acting “backy” (gay), these are made in good humor between friends, and nobody gets particularly offended by them. Fetching is herself openly bisexual (though she seems to suppress her heterosexual desires more than her homosexual ones out of that same need to be “one of the boys”), and Oats and Jackal are one of my favorite bromantic pairings.
Grimdark fantasy can often be depressing to read. But Jonathan French does an excellent job of infusing hope into his narrative. The story actually has a happier ending than I was expecting. [I was especially pleased when Jackal chooses Fetching to be the new leader of the hoof (she is voted in unanimously by the other riders). I find it incredibly annoying in books and movies when revolutionaries/usurpers decide to appoint themselves leaders, as the former does not qualify you for the latter. Part of Jackal’s arc is realizing that he is not meant to lead the hoof like he’d once desired. (hide spoiler)]
For the sequel, The True Bastards, I’m hoping to see [if a cure can be found for the thrice-blood child now infected with plague, how Fetching is doing leading the hoof, and what the mysterious Starling is up to (I don’t buy for a second that she’s killed herself). And of course, I fully expect that Jackal is going to have to fulfill his empty promise to the halfling’s resurrected god, Belico.