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Kara Skinner (332 KP) rated The Robber Knight in Books
Sep 10, 2019
When you are fighting for the freedom of your people, falling in love with your enemy is not a great idea. Or is it? Ayla has to defend her castle and her people all on her own, with nobody to help her but a dark warrior she hates with all her heart.
Sir Reuben, the dreaded robber knight, has long been Ayla’s deadliest enemy. He has prayed on her and her people ever since her father fell ill, and she swore he would hang for his crimes. Now they are both trapped in her castle as the army of a far greater enemy approaches, and they have only one chance: stand together, or fall.
This book wasn’t bad, honestly. I’m a huge fan of historical fiction, and it had been awhile since I’ve read a medieval love story, so that was a nice change of pace.
The author is a historian, so there are a lot of little things in this book that you don’t see in a lot of other historical romance books. For instance,you can’t pull out arrows because there are often barbs attached to cause fatal wounds if pulled out. I did like learning about all of these facts. But sometimes Thier lets the historian in him gets the best of him, but more on that later.
Lady Ayla was a pretty interesting character. Headstrong and wise for her years, she is very noble and progressive. She has all of the makings for a great leader– with the exception of knowledge. I loved how kind and committed she was to her people and I love the fact that she has some spunk. I mean, if I’m getting robbed in the forest by this random stranger, then I hope I would swear him out too (of course, if I could beat him up and get away, then that’s even better, but Ayla doesn’t have much self-defense skills). But there were many times that she was annoying, like her insistence on being near battles, even before she started treating the sick. And how she tried to manage Sir Isenbard during battle. She had called on him for help because he was an experienced knight, and now she was questioning his commands and strategies in the heat of battle!
Mostly, though, I really did like Ayla. She defines the idea of nobility. With war inevitable, she’s willing to ride personally to the edges of her land to warn her subjects and she is always at the outskirts of battle to help care for the wounded. She invites everyone into the castle for their safety and rations herself as well as the others to conserve food. She’s even willing to corrupt herself to save her people.
Reuben is an excellent character as well, although it did take me awhile to like him. In the beginning he fell a little flat. It’s clear that he used to be a knight but something happened and now he robs people for his own greed. A near-death experience and being saved by Lady Ayla reawakens the humanity in him. And apparently also some depth.
In the beginning of the book he spends a lot of his time admiring his loot and laughing about his victims, who thought they had a right to steal from him. But that’s all he does. We have no real insight into his character or backstory until after he’s in Ayla’s care. Only then are there hints of a bad history where he had been arrested many times, been tortured, and had at one point been a member of respectable society. If it weren’t for the fact that I liked Ayla’a character and the plot so far, I probably would have stopped reading.
Thier is a writer who has really good potential in becoming a great romance writer, especially for historical fiction. The plots have some unique twists that are augmented by his knowledge of history and after Reuben’s character shaped up, he was an excellent love interest. But there is one huge problem with this story: the footnotes.
There are so many footnotes throughout most of the book that I feel like I’m reading a history textbook, which is not good when I usually read romance novels to take a break from homework. Not only are they distracting and unnecessary, but they are also rude and condescending. Sure, sometimes they were useful, like in explaining the references to the seven princes of hell. Another one was a pretty funny anecdote about how one of his readers had actually confirmed that lard burns and that burning arrows work because they had actually done it. There is also a lot of wit throughout the footnotes which is pretty amusing. But most of the time, they were annoying.
For instance, Robert Thier thought it was necessary to include a footnote about how witches were considered bad during medieval times. Seriously? Even if someone failed history, we know that witches are not considered fine, upstanding citizens. Or maybe he thinks all of us have been locked in our rooms with no books, internet or television for our entire lives and for the month of October we all miraculously fell into a coma so we couldn’t see the giant blow-up witch in the neighbor’s yard. And then we’d all wake up singing Christmas carols after the month long coma without a care in the world because this happens every year so we don’t know what a witch is. (I’m developing a conspiracy theory about how these strange comas was caused by witchcraft.)
Maybe Thier assumed that instead of us thinking Reuben was scared of witches when he wondered if Ayla was one, we just thought he was commenting on how much Ayla looked like Sandra Bullock.
And one of the footnotes was just plain offensive. Here is the line of text that the footnote is attached to: “Heel! Abominable villain! You dare defy me?” (page 74)
Now, here’s the footnote: “Sorry to disappoint the ladies, but this doesn’t refer to high heels. It is a medieval term for a very nasty person.”
Excuse me? Did you just assume that I thought it meant high heels and that would make me excited? What world do you live in?
Apparently he thinks “the ladies” are so dumb that we are incapable of taking context clues and we immediately think everything relates back to fashion. Maybe I didn’t know it meant “very nasty person”, but it’s pretty clear it’s a swear or insult of sometime, not a freaking Jimmy Choo. Does he just imagine us thinking high heel every time we hear the word?
“She broke his nose with the heel of her hand.” Oh. High heel!
“Heel, fido! I said heel!” Oh. High heel!
“It will take one or two days for your cut to heal.” Oh. High heel! (Because if he thinks we don’t understand the difference between uncomfortable footwear and an insult, then he probably thinks we can’t spell, either).
But hey, at least Robert Thier thinks women can memorize stuff, because the footnote links stop as the vocabulary is repeated instead of new terms being introduced.
Aside from the footnotes, I really do like this book, and I can’t wait to read the second part of it, which I’ll read soon. Thier still has a long way to go, but I think after he has more experience, he’ll write some great books.
Sir Reuben, the dreaded robber knight, has long been Ayla’s deadliest enemy. He has prayed on her and her people ever since her father fell ill, and she swore he would hang for his crimes. Now they are both trapped in her castle as the army of a far greater enemy approaches, and they have only one chance: stand together, or fall.
This book wasn’t bad, honestly. I’m a huge fan of historical fiction, and it had been awhile since I’ve read a medieval love story, so that was a nice change of pace.
The author is a historian, so there are a lot of little things in this book that you don’t see in a lot of other historical romance books. For instance,you can’t pull out arrows because there are often barbs attached to cause fatal wounds if pulled out. I did like learning about all of these facts. But sometimes Thier lets the historian in him gets the best of him, but more on that later.
Lady Ayla was a pretty interesting character. Headstrong and wise for her years, she is very noble and progressive. She has all of the makings for a great leader– with the exception of knowledge. I loved how kind and committed she was to her people and I love the fact that she has some spunk. I mean, if I’m getting robbed in the forest by this random stranger, then I hope I would swear him out too (of course, if I could beat him up and get away, then that’s even better, but Ayla doesn’t have much self-defense skills). But there were many times that she was annoying, like her insistence on being near battles, even before she started treating the sick. And how she tried to manage Sir Isenbard during battle. She had called on him for help because he was an experienced knight, and now she was questioning his commands and strategies in the heat of battle!
Mostly, though, I really did like Ayla. She defines the idea of nobility. With war inevitable, she’s willing to ride personally to the edges of her land to warn her subjects and she is always at the outskirts of battle to help care for the wounded. She invites everyone into the castle for their safety and rations herself as well as the others to conserve food. She’s even willing to corrupt herself to save her people.
Reuben is an excellent character as well, although it did take me awhile to like him. In the beginning he fell a little flat. It’s clear that he used to be a knight but something happened and now he robs people for his own greed. A near-death experience and being saved by Lady Ayla reawakens the humanity in him. And apparently also some depth.
In the beginning of the book he spends a lot of his time admiring his loot and laughing about his victims, who thought they had a right to steal from him. But that’s all he does. We have no real insight into his character or backstory until after he’s in Ayla’s care. Only then are there hints of a bad history where he had been arrested many times, been tortured, and had at one point been a member of respectable society. If it weren’t for the fact that I liked Ayla’a character and the plot so far, I probably would have stopped reading.
Thier is a writer who has really good potential in becoming a great romance writer, especially for historical fiction. The plots have some unique twists that are augmented by his knowledge of history and after Reuben’s character shaped up, he was an excellent love interest. But there is one huge problem with this story: the footnotes.
There are so many footnotes throughout most of the book that I feel like I’m reading a history textbook, which is not good when I usually read romance novels to take a break from homework. Not only are they distracting and unnecessary, but they are also rude and condescending. Sure, sometimes they were useful, like in explaining the references to the seven princes of hell. Another one was a pretty funny anecdote about how one of his readers had actually confirmed that lard burns and that burning arrows work because they had actually done it. There is also a lot of wit throughout the footnotes which is pretty amusing. But most of the time, they were annoying.
For instance, Robert Thier thought it was necessary to include a footnote about how witches were considered bad during medieval times. Seriously? Even if someone failed history, we know that witches are not considered fine, upstanding citizens. Or maybe he thinks all of us have been locked in our rooms with no books, internet or television for our entire lives and for the month of October we all miraculously fell into a coma so we couldn’t see the giant blow-up witch in the neighbor’s yard. And then we’d all wake up singing Christmas carols after the month long coma without a care in the world because this happens every year so we don’t know what a witch is. (I’m developing a conspiracy theory about how these strange comas was caused by witchcraft.)
Maybe Thier assumed that instead of us thinking Reuben was scared of witches when he wondered if Ayla was one, we just thought he was commenting on how much Ayla looked like Sandra Bullock.
And one of the footnotes was just plain offensive. Here is the line of text that the footnote is attached to: “Heel! Abominable villain! You dare defy me?” (page 74)
Now, here’s the footnote: “Sorry to disappoint the ladies, but this doesn’t refer to high heels. It is a medieval term for a very nasty person.”
Excuse me? Did you just assume that I thought it meant high heels and that would make me excited? What world do you live in?
Apparently he thinks “the ladies” are so dumb that we are incapable of taking context clues and we immediately think everything relates back to fashion. Maybe I didn’t know it meant “very nasty person”, but it’s pretty clear it’s a swear or insult of sometime, not a freaking Jimmy Choo. Does he just imagine us thinking high heel every time we hear the word?
“She broke his nose with the heel of her hand.” Oh. High heel!
“Heel, fido! I said heel!” Oh. High heel!
“It will take one or two days for your cut to heal.” Oh. High heel! (Because if he thinks we don’t understand the difference between uncomfortable footwear and an insult, then he probably thinks we can’t spell, either).
But hey, at least Robert Thier thinks women can memorize stuff, because the footnote links stop as the vocabulary is repeated instead of new terms being introduced.
Aside from the footnotes, I really do like this book, and I can’t wait to read the second part of it, which I’ll read soon. Thier still has a long way to go, but I think after he has more experience, he’ll write some great books.
Acanthea Grimscythe (300 KP) rated Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008) in Movies
May 12, 2018
Contains spoilers, click to show
Repo! The Genetic Opera is perhaps one of the most underrated films I’ve ever watched. The first time I watched it was at the behest of the elder of my younger brothers during my senior year of high school. At that time, I thought it was alright. The characters were hauntingly beautiful and the costumes delightfully dark, but beyond its appeal to my horror loving heart, I had little interest in re-watching it. The other day, I was browsing Shudder and came across it and decided to watch it for the sake of nostalgia. It was then that I picked up on the parody that my seventeen-year-old self missed entirely: for-profit healthcare.
Repo! takes place in 2056, where a planet-wide organ failure epidemic has led to drastic measures. In a time of need, a company by the name of GeneCo has come to the rescue. Offering payment plans to those that cannot afford their new organs, GeneCo saves the lives of those unfortunate souls. But what happens when they can’t meet their payments? Well, that’s what repo men are for, isn’t it?
So where does the parody come in? A similar system already exists in the way the American health care system is presently structured with its for-profit health insurance. Most insurance companies, like GeneCo, are not there for the benefit of their consumers, but for the filling of their pockets. As long as you can pay the premium (or the payment), your coverage remains intact and you’re able to get treatment and medication (or keep your organs in the world of Repo!). The moment you’re not able to do that, your coverage is often revoked (or your organs are repossessed). Of course, in the real world, this isn’t as brutal as it is in Repo! At least, not in most cases, but it can be just as scary. For myself, it’s often quite terrifying as I struggle to stay in remission from ulcerative pancolitis.
Moving on from the parody, there are other aspects of the movie that I feel are also accurate representations of today’s society – things that I feel Repo! was a bit ahead of its time on. The Largo family seems to represent the manner by which the wealthy feed upon the powerlessness of the poor. Also, am I the only one that, upon re-watching this film, can’t help but think of Trump when I’m looking at Rotti Largo? As a villain, Rotti is largely incompetent. He uses others to do what he can’t and often resorts to bullying to get what he wants, as can be seen in the blood contract with Blind Mag. Another example is how he manipulated Nathan and later Shiloh to break and control them, in hopes of controlling them. While it worked for the former of the two, Shiloh was not susceptible to his manipulation – yet another reference to something we’re seeing in today’s society in regards to Shiloh’s generation (that is present-day millennials) and the older generation, which is more mixed politically.
I think it’s also important that we take a moment to focus on Shiloh as a character. She is, perhaps, my least favorite character in this film. Then again, she was also in her rebellious teenage years and was, naturally, horrendously stereotyped. She loathed her father for keeping her bound to her room, even though she understood why and, even when she found out his sins and the lies he told her, she failed to turn against him – paying homage to the saying that “blood is thicker than water.” The end comics only state that she went into hiding, hinting that she was never to be heard from again – which is a shame. I’d like to think she’d become an activist, but… I guess that wasn’t her future.
One of my favorite things about this musical is the haunting and unearthly qualities that linger around Blind Mag and the Graverobber. This is a film I will watch again and again, even if others loathe it for being campy and over the top. In fact, I plan to show it to my Dad’s girlfriend’s kid.
Repo! takes place in 2056, where a planet-wide organ failure epidemic has led to drastic measures. In a time of need, a company by the name of GeneCo has come to the rescue. Offering payment plans to those that cannot afford their new organs, GeneCo saves the lives of those unfortunate souls. But what happens when they can’t meet their payments? Well, that’s what repo men are for, isn’t it?
So where does the parody come in? A similar system already exists in the way the American health care system is presently structured with its for-profit health insurance. Most insurance companies, like GeneCo, are not there for the benefit of their consumers, but for the filling of their pockets. As long as you can pay the premium (or the payment), your coverage remains intact and you’re able to get treatment and medication (or keep your organs in the world of Repo!). The moment you’re not able to do that, your coverage is often revoked (or your organs are repossessed). Of course, in the real world, this isn’t as brutal as it is in Repo! At least, not in most cases, but it can be just as scary. For myself, it’s often quite terrifying as I struggle to stay in remission from ulcerative pancolitis.
Moving on from the parody, there are other aspects of the movie that I feel are also accurate representations of today’s society – things that I feel Repo! was a bit ahead of its time on. The Largo family seems to represent the manner by which the wealthy feed upon the powerlessness of the poor. Also, am I the only one that, upon re-watching this film, can’t help but think of Trump when I’m looking at Rotti Largo? As a villain, Rotti is largely incompetent. He uses others to do what he can’t and often resorts to bullying to get what he wants, as can be seen in the blood contract with Blind Mag. Another example is how he manipulated Nathan and later Shiloh to break and control them, in hopes of controlling them. While it worked for the former of the two, Shiloh was not susceptible to his manipulation – yet another reference to something we’re seeing in today’s society in regards to Shiloh’s generation (that is present-day millennials) and the older generation, which is more mixed politically.
I think it’s also important that we take a moment to focus on Shiloh as a character. She is, perhaps, my least favorite character in this film. Then again, she was also in her rebellious teenage years and was, naturally, horrendously stereotyped. She loathed her father for keeping her bound to her room, even though she understood why and, even when she found out his sins and the lies he told her, she failed to turn against him – paying homage to the saying that “blood is thicker than water.” The end comics only state that she went into hiding, hinting that she was never to be heard from again – which is a shame. I’d like to think she’d become an activist, but… I guess that wasn’t her future.
One of my favorite things about this musical is the haunting and unearthly qualities that linger around Blind Mag and the Graverobber. This is a film I will watch again and again, even if others loathe it for being campy and over the top. In fact, I plan to show it to my Dad’s girlfriend’s kid.
Kristy H (1252 KP) rated The Princess Diarist in Books
Feb 8, 2018
Carrie Fisher's latest memoir details a behind the scenes look of the first <i>Star Wars</i> film. Motivated by the recent discovery of the journals she wrote while filming <i>Star Wars</i> in the late 1970s, Fisher discusses her naive nineteen-year-old self: not yet famous (though with famous parents) and unprepared for the juggernaut that would become the <i>Star Wars</i> franchise. She also covers her now famous co-star, Harrison Ford, and their relationship during the three months of filming. Fisher presents excerpts from her discovered journals and ponders on her life and the fame and notoriety that playing Princess Leia has brought her.
I am new to the <i>Star Wars</i> fandom, having only recently discovered the films myself in the past two years or so. My four-year-old daughters love them (and Leia), so I was intrigued by the idea of Fisher's memoir. While I like the films, I don't consider myself a fanatic by any stretch of the imagination. Still, I was interested in hearing some behind the scenes tidbits about filming. And Fisher starts out with such facts, explaining how an early scene was re-written due to the physical limitations of Peter Mayhew, who played Chewbacca. It's that sort of information that I find fascinating--and imagine other <i>Star Wars</i> fans would as well.
And, I won't lie, I was also fascinated by Fisher's reported relationship with Harrison Ford, who is about 15 years her senior (and was married while they were filming). Her portrayal of Harrison in the book seems spot on and is actually quite humorous at times. Unfortunately, her actual detail of the relationship is scant at best, and we really don't get much insight into their romance. What we do get is a lot of particulars about Fisher's own insecurities about herself, her body, her acting, etc.
She includes actual excerpts of the journals she found in the middle of the book, and I confess, I eventually started skimming them, because they were just agony to read. I can understand how they resonate from the perspective of a lovestruck teenager (because, truly, she was just that at the time), but so many years later, they just seem like a lot of bad poetry and ramblings that make no sense out of context. And beyond a few stories about Harrison, we really get nothing in the book that explains them, which is unfortunate, as Fisher seems witty and interesting (albeit insecure, but hey, so am I). I understand her angst from the journals, I really do, but I'm not honestly sure I wanted to read it in such form.
Plus, after that section of the book, we move on to Fisher discussing her fans and how "being Leia" has affected her life. And, again, I get it: we all forget how no one expected <i>Star Wars</i> to be so big. You wouldn't at nineteen realize what you were getting into, and I'm sure this character has absorbed much of her identity. And maybe it was reading this on the heel of Anna Kendrick's memoir, but I can only take so much of celebrities complaining about their fame and lives. The second half of Fisher's book, basically, is her capturing "conversations" with awestruck fans explaining how much Leia and <i>Star Wars</i> meant to them. But, really, it's mocking them and illustrating how tiresome the "lap dance" (her words) of signing autographs and appearing at various conventions can be. But, you know, as she states, it's worth it for the money. You can't help but feel a little offended on the part of these devoted, crazy fans, and a little less sorry for Fisher, even if she was not included on merchandising shares for <i>Star Wars</i>.
Sigh. Overall, I'm a bit conflicted on this one. Bits and pieces were very interesting. But I would have enjoyed hearing more about the actual set and her interactions with the other actors beyond Harrison Ford. While I also didn't mind hearing about Fisher's impressions of how Leia impacted her life, the fandom sections just rubbed me the wrong way. 2.5 stars.
I am new to the <i>Star Wars</i> fandom, having only recently discovered the films myself in the past two years or so. My four-year-old daughters love them (and Leia), so I was intrigued by the idea of Fisher's memoir. While I like the films, I don't consider myself a fanatic by any stretch of the imagination. Still, I was interested in hearing some behind the scenes tidbits about filming. And Fisher starts out with such facts, explaining how an early scene was re-written due to the physical limitations of Peter Mayhew, who played Chewbacca. It's that sort of information that I find fascinating--and imagine other <i>Star Wars</i> fans would as well.
And, I won't lie, I was also fascinated by Fisher's reported relationship with Harrison Ford, who is about 15 years her senior (and was married while they were filming). Her portrayal of Harrison in the book seems spot on and is actually quite humorous at times. Unfortunately, her actual detail of the relationship is scant at best, and we really don't get much insight into their romance. What we do get is a lot of particulars about Fisher's own insecurities about herself, her body, her acting, etc.
She includes actual excerpts of the journals she found in the middle of the book, and I confess, I eventually started skimming them, because they were just agony to read. I can understand how they resonate from the perspective of a lovestruck teenager (because, truly, she was just that at the time), but so many years later, they just seem like a lot of bad poetry and ramblings that make no sense out of context. And beyond a few stories about Harrison, we really get nothing in the book that explains them, which is unfortunate, as Fisher seems witty and interesting (albeit insecure, but hey, so am I). I understand her angst from the journals, I really do, but I'm not honestly sure I wanted to read it in such form.
Plus, after that section of the book, we move on to Fisher discussing her fans and how "being Leia" has affected her life. And, again, I get it: we all forget how no one expected <i>Star Wars</i> to be so big. You wouldn't at nineteen realize what you were getting into, and I'm sure this character has absorbed much of her identity. And maybe it was reading this on the heel of Anna Kendrick's memoir, but I can only take so much of celebrities complaining about their fame and lives. The second half of Fisher's book, basically, is her capturing "conversations" with awestruck fans explaining how much Leia and <i>Star Wars</i> meant to them. But, really, it's mocking them and illustrating how tiresome the "lap dance" (her words) of signing autographs and appearing at various conventions can be. But, you know, as she states, it's worth it for the money. You can't help but feel a little offended on the part of these devoted, crazy fans, and a little less sorry for Fisher, even if she was not included on merchandising shares for <i>Star Wars</i>.
Sigh. Overall, I'm a bit conflicted on this one. Bits and pieces were very interesting. But I would have enjoyed hearing more about the actual set and her interactions with the other actors beyond Harrison Ford. While I also didn't mind hearing about Fisher's impressions of how Leia impacted her life, the fandom sections just rubbed me the wrong way. 2.5 stars.
Cyn Armistead (14 KP) rated Fire Study (Study, #3) in Books
Mar 1, 2018
I strongly recommend reading <i>Poison Study</i>, <i>Assassin Study</i>, <i>Magic Study</i>, and <i>Power Study</i> all at a go. The two novellas are optional, but canonical and fun.
Snyder's world seems to be made up of just two countries: Ixia and Sitia. Ixia has been ruled by Commander Ambrose and his generals for about a decade when <i>Poison Study</i> starts, after a military coup overthrew the old monarchy. There are no beggars, every child is entitled to an education, nobody has to go hungry or homeless, and promotions are based solely on skill, with no gender or racial discrimination—but every citizen also has to wear a uniform declaring his or her proper location and job function, government approval is required for marrying, moving to a new home, or changing jobs, and anybody identified as having magic talent is killed immediately. Everyone is subject to the Code of Behavior, and there are no exceptions for any kind of extenuating circumstances. If you kill someone, you are sentenced to death, even if you were defending yourself or another.
Yelena has been in the Commander's dungeon for most of a year after killing the son of General Brazell. Valek, Ambrose's spymaster, gives her a choice: go to the gallows, or become the Commander's food taster. The job doesn't have a long life expectancy, as poisoning attempts are fairly common, but Yelena sees a chance at life better than immediate death, and takes the job.
Yelena manages to survive several attempts to murder her. The fact that Brazell wants her dead is understandable, but the other attempts are mysterious. Why would a Sitian master magician try to kill her? Who would slip poison into her wine?
<i>Magic Study</i> finds Yelena in Sitia, learning to cope with a very different way of life. Magic is almost taken for granted, and a strong family/clan structure forms the backbone of the government. But why are there beggars in the streets, and why is it that only those who can afford it are educated? Everyone in Sitia believes that life in Ixia must be horrific, but looking around her, Yelena sees that Ambrose's rule does have its benefits.
<i>Fire Study</i> moves between Sitia and Ixia, involving the leaders of both nations and intriguers who want to bring both of them down by pitching them against each other. Yelena and her friends are trying to prevent a war and reveal the traitors, but they've been declared outlaw and have to sneak around trying to figure out what's going on.
Another reviewer found Yelena too talented for belief, but I found her fairly realistic. She certainly isn't good at everything—she could use a lot of help in terms of social skills!—and the skills that she begins with and gains over the course of the trilogy do make sense. She trained as an acrobat when she was a child, so it does make sense that she is able to learn some types of self-defense without too much trouble. Some of her aptitudes make more sense after she learns more about her family background. She does find that she has magical abilities, but she isn't good at everything, and indeed, cannot seem to master some tasks that other magicians consider rudimentary.
I did find some of the betrayals to be difficult to comprehend, as some of the traitors would have no defense against mental scans. There's a Sitian Ethical Code of Conduct that prohibits non-consensual scans, but it doesn't apply to criminals, and in a war situation, I found it hard to believe that nobody ever did a little telepathic peeking at the people around them.
These were fun books, and they could be useful in looking at the pros and cons of different types of governments with teens. There's some sex in the books, but nothing terribly explicit. The violence is more troublesome, but the author never dwells on it.
Snyder's world seems to be made up of just two countries: Ixia and Sitia. Ixia has been ruled by Commander Ambrose and his generals for about a decade when <i>Poison Study</i> starts, after a military coup overthrew the old monarchy. There are no beggars, every child is entitled to an education, nobody has to go hungry or homeless, and promotions are based solely on skill, with no gender or racial discrimination—but every citizen also has to wear a uniform declaring his or her proper location and job function, government approval is required for marrying, moving to a new home, or changing jobs, and anybody identified as having magic talent is killed immediately. Everyone is subject to the Code of Behavior, and there are no exceptions for any kind of extenuating circumstances. If you kill someone, you are sentenced to death, even if you were defending yourself or another.
Yelena has been in the Commander's dungeon for most of a year after killing the son of General Brazell. Valek, Ambrose's spymaster, gives her a choice: go to the gallows, or become the Commander's food taster. The job doesn't have a long life expectancy, as poisoning attempts are fairly common, but Yelena sees a chance at life better than immediate death, and takes the job.
Yelena manages to survive several attempts to murder her. The fact that Brazell wants her dead is understandable, but the other attempts are mysterious. Why would a Sitian master magician try to kill her? Who would slip poison into her wine?
<i>Magic Study</i> finds Yelena in Sitia, learning to cope with a very different way of life. Magic is almost taken for granted, and a strong family/clan structure forms the backbone of the government. But why are there beggars in the streets, and why is it that only those who can afford it are educated? Everyone in Sitia believes that life in Ixia must be horrific, but looking around her, Yelena sees that Ambrose's rule does have its benefits.
<i>Fire Study</i> moves between Sitia and Ixia, involving the leaders of both nations and intriguers who want to bring both of them down by pitching them against each other. Yelena and her friends are trying to prevent a war and reveal the traitors, but they've been declared outlaw and have to sneak around trying to figure out what's going on.
Another reviewer found Yelena too talented for belief, but I found her fairly realistic. She certainly isn't good at everything—she could use a lot of help in terms of social skills!—and the skills that she begins with and gains over the course of the trilogy do make sense. She trained as an acrobat when she was a child, so it does make sense that she is able to learn some types of self-defense without too much trouble. Some of her aptitudes make more sense after she learns more about her family background. She does find that she has magical abilities, but she isn't good at everything, and indeed, cannot seem to master some tasks that other magicians consider rudimentary.
I did find some of the betrayals to be difficult to comprehend, as some of the traitors would have no defense against mental scans. There's a Sitian Ethical Code of Conduct that prohibits non-consensual scans, but it doesn't apply to criminals, and in a war situation, I found it hard to believe that nobody ever did a little telepathic peeking at the people around them.
These were fun books, and they could be useful in looking at the pros and cons of different types of governments with teens. There's some sex in the books, but nothing terribly explicit. The violence is more troublesome, but the author never dwells on it.