Top Ten Tuesday: Books that Took Me Out of My Comfort Zone (And Helped Me Find New Ones)

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Top Ten Tuesday was created by The Broke and the Bookish and is now being hosted by The Artsy Reader. This week’s topic is Books I Enjoyed That Are Outside of My Comfort Zone, but I’ve modified it slightly to “books that took me out of my comfort zone but I didn’t necessarily enjoy.”

Comfort zones are funny. Sometimes I feel like I know exactly what I’m comfortable with and not. Other times I don’t even know where the boundary is until I’m suddenly standing outside of it, saying, “Uh, hello? I’d like to go back inside.”

Anywho, the titles = subjects/themes/character types that were (or still are) beyond my comfort zone.

 

Second Person POV

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The Fifth Season was the first book with an extended second-person POV (beyond choose-your-own-adventure books) that I liked, and it actually made me see it in a new light. I love that it goes beyond a gimmick, that it actually serves a purpose in the story, narrative-wise. And I love even more that we don’t find out what that purpose is until book 3.

 


Space Opera

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I was never a big space opera fan as a kid, and I only got into Star Wars and Firefly and all those other big scifi franchises as an undergrad. But then I played Mass Effect and it was like, oh hey, this spacefaring business is actually kind of cool and exciting and I think I want more.

So technically, Mass Effect is what took me out of my comfort zone. But in terms of books, it’s Karin Lowachee’s Warchild that did it. I talk about it quite a bit on the blog, and I cannot overstate just how brilliant the series is. Beyond the space opera aspect, it talks about war and identity, and it features the most disquieting exploration of abuse and its lasting effects that I’ve ever read.

Coincidentally, it also makes use of second-person POV (albeit a lot more sparingly than  Broken Earth and also in a different way), and the effect is very, very powerful.

 


BDSM, Sex, and Queerness

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I read this series when I was 18, and it was my first experience seeing BDSM, queerness, and sex mixed together, and so forwardly, in one place. And boy, did that mean a lot to me.

I’m not saying that the Beauty books are quality BDSM literature, because they’re not (I’m 90% sure I’ll end up hating them if I ever do a reread), and it’s absolutely not the series I’d recommend to anyone who wants to dip their toes in BDSM (I haven’t read it yet, but I’ve heard Kushiel’s Dart is a better alternative). But I grew up in a conservative Asian family where sex wasn’t a thing I should even be contemplating, let alone having. Add to that a strong penchant for a kink, and you have the prime recipe for guilt, self-hatred, and repression–a full-course meal. And these books did a lot to make me feel more comfortable in my own skin. “Thankful” is maybe not the right word–it feels weird and a little wrong to be thankful for something that’s kind of problematic–but my feelings are a close cousin to it.

Ironically, by pushing me out of my comfort zone, Beauty helped me find it.

 


Small Pawns in a Wide World

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I have a hard time dealing with stories that reek of helplessness. Where the characters are given the smallest margin of agency, and everything beyond that is too vast, too complex, too deeply seeded for them to change. That’s the main reason why I dislike Never Let Me Go (I struggle with enough feelings of smallness on my own, thank you), yet it’s also the reason why I can’t get it out of my head.

 


A Heartpuncher of an Ending

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Adam, what crime did I commit in a previous life for you to make me go through the ending of More Happy than Not? I’m 100% comfortable reading books that talk about depression and suicide as long as they give me a few rays of hope at the end. This…wasn’t that.

But now, with the initial shock of emotions faded, I can say that it’s a fantastic and crucial piece of fiction–one that talks about queerness and mental health with stark honesty–and I’m glad to have experienced it.

 


A Heartpuncher of an Ending 2 (Feat. Irish Stream of Consciousness)

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Here’s the thing: heartwrenching endings aren’t within my comfort zone and I don’t think they will ever be. I don’t think I can ever be comfortable with something that shreds me from the inside out and leaves me tattered on the ground. That is the definition of uncomfortable.

But here’s another thing: I can be uncomfortable with something and still love it and crave it.

The final thing: I love being broken by someone’s art.

At Swim, Two Boys left me insensate with tears by the end. I was hobbling around for days with my eyes puffy and glazed over. And I would gladly experience it hundred times more. Because this book is one of the most profoundly human things I’ve ever read, and that ending, and my reaction to it, is proof of just how deeply I connected with the characters.

 


Queer Pain (aka Why Do I Do This to Myself)

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I sorely underestimated how uncompromising and triggering Orpheus Girl would be and I paid the price for it. Which sounds kind of dramatic, but god, reading this was like trying to swallow nails: painful, and not in the way I described above.

I didn’t dislike the book and I’m glad that it exists, as it talks about atrocities that are still very present for queer teens today (in the form of gay conversion camps), but it’s also something I almost wish I could unread, and I stand by what I said in my GR review: you don’t have to read these heavy topical books if you don’t want to. You’re not obligated to hold pain–any pain, queer or otherwise–by the blade and bleed yourself to prove that you’re aware of its existence.

 


You’re Not the Character I Thought You Were

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You know what I love? Awful and seemingly irredeemable characters who, against all odds, win me over by the end of the story.

You know what I don’t love? The opposite of that. When there’s a character that I like and want to wrap in a blanket because “oh, he seems so troubled and sweet and he just needs someone to hold him.” And then it turns out he’s actually none of that. He’s actually an asshole with psychopathic tendencies and deserves a fireball to the face more than a hug. That’s a “I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU” moment and not something I’m terribly fond of.

So I should have hated The Court of Broken Knives (and its sequel, which I’m currently reading). The fact that I don’t–the fact that I love it, and it’s become one of my favourite fantasy series–is a testament to how good Anna Smith Spark is.

Top 5 Wednesday – Books You Want to Read Before the End of the Year

“Top 5 Wednesday” is a weekly meme currently hosted on Goodreads by Sam of Thoughts on Tomes, where you list your top 5 for the week’s chosen topic. This week’s theme is: Books you want to read before the end of the year, which I’m interpreting as,already-released books I want to read before the end of the year.”

 

1. Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive 3) by Brandon Sanderson

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I’ve been debating whether or not I should reread the first two Stormlight books before starting this one, and this debate has been raging in my brain for roughly…oh, eight months? So I figure I should just swat myself over the head at some point and make a decision. Plus my friend’s been wailing at me every other week, “I just I found this Oathbringer thing I need to show you but I can’t because you haven’t read it yet,” and I should probably put him out of his misery.

2. Vicious by V.E. Schwab

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I wasn’t a fan of Schwab’s Shades of Magic books, so I’ve been somewhat avoiding this one. But then the other day I read Meghan‘s awesome review where she breaks down the anti-hero qualities of the characters and now I’m thoroughly intrigued. Despicable characters that make you love them despite and because of their despicable ways? Hell yes.

3. The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

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I’ve been living under a rock for the last year and a half apparently, because I still have yet to pick this one up. I’ll read it before the movie drops. Maybe.

4. The Last of the Wine by Mary Renault

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Renault’s Alexander the Great trilogy serves as one of the best examples of what historical fiction can and should be–well-researched and informative, but still brimming with imagination. I’m fairly sure she was a time traveler of some sort, because no modern person be able to describe an ancient culture with that much confidence and intimate detail.

The Last of the Wine is another very Greek, very queer Renault classic and I’m very excited.

5. The Book of Dust by Philip Pullman

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When I was in middle school, The Dark Materials series rocked the foundation of my world. I wrote Pullman a long gushing (possibly incoherent) letter on how much I loved the books and received a written version of “Mr. Pullman can’t come to the phone right now as he’s busy with movie deals and being a superstar author. But he sure does appreciate all your calls!” And I didn’t even care because, holy shit, the letter had his signature on it.

So why oh why have I not read The Book of Dust yet? It’s hard feeling to describe but the phrase “paralyzed with anticipation” comes to mind. This book was a long time coming and I both dread and crave what lies inside (if that makes any kind of sense). Basically, it’s another case of me needing to kick myself into making a decision.

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And that’s it for me! Have you read any of these? And what books are you looking to get to before the end of the year?

Top 5 Wednesday – LGBTQ+ Books (Sans Cis M/M Relationships)

“Top 5 Wednesday” is a weekly meme currently hosted on Goodreads by Sam of Thoughts on Tomes, where you list your top 5 for the week’s chosen topic. This week’s theme is: LGBTQ+ Books That Don’t Feature Cis M/M Relationships.

If this week’s prompt seems rather specific, here’s Sam’s reasoning:

This may seem oddly specific, but in honor of Pride being this month, I wanted to have a topic to celebrate LGBTQ+ books. But, the book community tends to, when given the chance, lift up cis m/m pairings the most. And while those books are still important and valued (we’ve even had topics covering m/m relationships earlier this year, which featured many cis m/m pairings), I wanted to shine the spotlight on some of those lesser known, recognized, and celebrated books.

I love that this gives us a chance to shine a spotlight on some of the other areas of the queer rainbow. Thanks, Sam!

1. Pantomime (Micah Grey 1) by Laura Lam

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The first in Lam’s Micah Grey series is a fantasy story set around a travelling circus, which in itself is fun and interesting, but it also stars an intersex protagonist, which I’d never before encountered (in genre fiction or otherwise). Micah is a wonderfully likeable protagonist and his gender struggles are explored in a respectful, heartfelt manner. Plus I kind of liked the (sort-of) love triangle that he ends up in with two of the other circus members, which is a rare occurrence for me.

2. Peter Darling by Austin Chant

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With Peter Darling, Austin Chant creates a brilliantly original retelling of the classic tale. Peter in this story is trans and he finds himself back in Neverland to reclaim the Lost Boys and renew his old feud with Captain Hook. It’s a short but sweet story that touches on gender identity and the enemies-to-lovers trope.

3. The Thousand Names (Shadow Campaigns 1) by Django Wexler

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I’ve said it before, but this entire series should be the benchmark for mainstream adult epic fantasy when it comes to LGBTQIAP+ representation. Some authors out there are patting themselves on the back for writing in a single gay character (out of a dozen) who appears in a total of maybe three scenes, and meanwhile Django here has amassed a total of (at least) nine queer side characters, plus one lesbian protagonist, by the end of the book 5. So if you’ve never heard the phrase “flintlock fantasy” before and are now curious to try it, I recommend you start with The Thousand Names. It’s got addictive military action, political intrigue, and interesting character relationships.

4. Borderline (The Arcadia Project 1) by Mishell Baker

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Borderline is the first in an urban fantasy series that stars a disabled bisexual protagonist with bipolar disorder. In another writer’s hands, this might have been a complete disaster. But Mishell Baker writes Millie Roper with startling complexity–funny, not always easy to like, and fucks up a ton, but always, always trying to move forward. The first book also mashes your typical fae lore with Hollywood and the result is incredibly entertaining.

5. Curved Horizon (The Camellia Clock Cycle 2) by Taylor Brooke

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This one might be considered cheating because I’m reading through it right now and still have about 15% left to go, but it’s impressing the hell out of me, so I want to take this chance to showcase it. The Camelia Clock Cycle books are set in a world where scientists have discovered a way to calculate the exact moment that you meet your soulmate. Book 2 follows Daisy and Chelsea (former is Asian and demi, the latter is bi), who were secondary characters from the first book, as they navigate through trauma, mental health, and the complexities of love and friendship. Brooke does such an exquisite job exploring these characters and their demons to the fullest; there’s angst and heartbreak, but also moments where the characters just talk and try to figure things out. It combines the messiness of real life with the sweet optimism of romance novels, and I’m loving every bit of it.

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Have you read any of the books on this list? And shower me with your queer book recommendations!

 

 

Top 5 Wednesday – Favourite Mentors/Teachers in Books

“Top 5 Wednesday” is a weekly meme currently hosted on Goodreads by Sam of Thoughts on Tomes, where you list your top 5 for the week’s chosen topic. This week’s theme is: favourite mentors/teachers.

I had a lot going on this past week, so this was compiled kind of at the last minute. Which means it’s slightly less wordy than usual (yay!) Also, my first version of the list got scrapped because I wrote it and then promptly realized what a sausage fest it was. So I replaced a couple of dudes with women (sorry, Gandalf). Maybe my memory is just wacked, but why are there so few notable female mentor figures in fiction? For every eight men, I could think of maybe one woman.

Anyhow, here are the five!

1. Elodin (The Kingkiller Chronicle)

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Ah, Elodin. He’s just slightly ahead of Auri as my favourite character in the series. Genius. Kinda crazy. Mysterious. Tragic. The Master Namer is one of those profs that you constantly complain about at the beginning of the semester, because the lectures are so weird and unorthodox and there’s no sense to the grading system, but by the end you’re calling their lessons the most transcendent experience you’ve ever had in your academic life. Plus, he’s also one of the few people who’s able to ground Kvothe in humility.

“Re’lar Kvoteh, he said seriously. “I am trying to wake your sleeping mind to the subtle language the world is whispering. I am trying to seduce you into understanding. I am trying to teach you.” He leaned forward until his face was almost touching mine. “Quit grabbing at my tits.”

2. Jasnah Kholin (The Stormlight Archive)

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One thing that is most definitely, sorely, lacking in fantasy is master-apprentice relationships between two female characters. But Brandon Sanderson does his best to remedy that with Jasnah and her ward, Shallan. Jasnah is a scholar and a self-proclaimed atheist. She doesn’t doesn’t suffer fools but is patient with her teachings. Serious, but possesses a wry sense of humour. Her discussions of philosophy with Shallan are some of the best scenes in the first book.

 

Shallan: You killed four men.
Jasnah: Four men who were planning to beat, rob, kill and possibly rape us.
Shallan: You tempted them into coming for us!
Jasnah: DId I force them to commit any crimes?
Shallan: You showed off your gemstones.
Jasnah: Can a woman not walk with her possessions down the street of a city?
Shallan: At night? Through a rough area? Displaying wealth? You all but asked for what happened!
Jasnah: Does that make it right? […] Am I a monster or am I a hero? Did I just slaughter four men, or did I stop four murderers from walking the streets? Does one deserve to have evil done to her by consequence of putting herself where evil can reach her? Did I have a right to defend myself? Or was I just looking for an excuse to end lives?

3. Chade Fallstar (Realm of the Elderlings)

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As the series progresses, we see Chade in many roles–assassin, spymaster, a secret relative, chief diplomat–but he was, and always will be, our protagonist’s first teacher. Chade enters Fitz’s life and imparts all sorts of higher learning–history, language, politics, comprehension and observational skills, herbery– alongside, of course, ways with which to kill. He teaches Fitz not to be a mindless killer but a scholar with a penchant for the deadly arts. His first and most valuable lesson, though? Your thoughts and opinions are valuable and it’s okay to express them.

“Learning is never wrong. Even learning to kill isn’t wrong.”

 

4. Helen Justineau (The Girl with All the Gifts)

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I don’t want to say too much about this one because spoilers, but Miss Justineau is our protagonist’s most favourite teacher. And for good reason. She truly cares about her students and exhibits compassion and understanding in a world where such things are deemed weaknesses. The relationship between Justineau and Melanie is one of the most heartwarming things I’ve encountered in recent memory.

 

 

5. John Keating (Dead Poets Society)

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Is this cheating? Probably. But, then again, there is actually a book adaptation of the movie, so it totally counts. When I was in middleschool/highschool I always felt that this was the one movie they should show to all teachers at the beginning of each year. Mr. Keating shows that being a teacher isn’t just about teaching a subject. It’s about nurturing talents, broadening worldviews, encouraging students to carve out their own path in life, no matter how ludicrous others may view it.

 

He (and Robin Williams) will forever be “Oh Captain, My Captain.”

“No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world.”

And there you have it! Feel free to tell me some of your favourite mentors/teachers in books!

 

Top 5 Wednesday – Children’s Books to Read as an Adult

“Top 5 Wednesday” is a weekly meme currently hosted on Goodreads by Sam of Thoughts on Tomes, where you list your top 5 for the week’s chosen topic. I thought it’d be fun to join in and that it might help me keep some semblance of a consistent schedule for this blog.

This week’s theme is: children’s books that should be revisited as an adult. As Philip Pullman said, some stories can only be told through the eyes of children. But that doesn’t mean you should stop reading them once you grow older. One thing to note: it’s been forever since I read a new children’s release, so all my suggestions are like, pre-2011. Also, some of these straddle the line between Children/Middle Grade and Young Adult.

1. The Tale of Despereaux by Kate Dicamillo

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I could add all of Kate Dicamillo’s works to the list and they would happily fill up the whole roster, but I’ll refrain and just pick one. The Tale of Despereaux is the story of a very special mouse, one with very large ears and an even bigger heart, who falls in love with a princess. If that sounds like a cute fairy tale, brace yourself, because it’s not. As with most of Dicamillo’s works, there are heavy topics mixed in with the soft and fuzzy. This one features prejudice and abuse, but also the power of compassion and forgiveness–a contrast of light and dark that adult readers will appreciate.

Young or old, this is a necessary read that will break your heart and mend it anew.

2. The Golden Compass (His Dark Materials 1) by Philip Pullman

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I still can’t believe Pullman got away with calling this series children’s fantasy because holy hell, he took the genre to crazy places others wouldn’t dare dream of going. The Golden Compass (or The Northern Lights) definitely feels more suited for children than the later books, where things get a hell of a lot more dark and abstract. That’s not to say it’s a stroll through a daisy field; there are scenes that freaked me out as a kid and still make me shudder to this day. Then there are bits to do with authoritarianism, religion, sexuality, string theory and such that you just don’t fully understand or appreciate until you’re older.

I think the series is a masterpiece. Others think it’s trash. My church minister said I would go to hell for reading it. And so on. It’s a shifting minefield of opinions. So if you read the books as a kid, it’s definitely worth going back and re-examining them with shiny new adult eyes.

3. The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

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A Gaiman book that defies age groups? Huh, you don’t say.

The Graveyard Book is a retelling of Kipyard’s The Jungle Book. In Gaiman’s version, the story is set in contemporary times and the main character, Nobody, gets adopted by the denizens of a graveyard. The graveyard Gaiman creates is a strange, beautiful world of its own filled with its own traditions and mysteries. It’s one that rivals adult fantasies in terms of atmosphere and detail, so you get just as much enjoyment and wonder out of it as you did when you were a kid.

The story is also worth revisiting just for the full-cast audiobook version, which is absolutely stellar and really helps bring the characters to life.

4. Dealing with Dragons by Patricia C. Wrede

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The first in the Enchanted Forest Chronicles is a clever story that subverts classic fantasy and fairy tale tropes. When our protagonist, Princess Cimorene, overhears that she will be married her off to some random Prince, she decides to take matters into her own hands by running away and volunteering herself to be the personal princess of a dragon. Now, if all the knights and princes would just stop trying to rescue her, things would be perfect.

Cimorene isn’t a “not like the other girls” brand of rebellious princess, which is great, and her no-nonsense attitude and wry humour will be an absolute delight for older readers. All in all, it’s a fun and charming read that I often return to when I need a pick-me-up.

5. The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

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The Little Prince is a small book that is chock full of timeless wisdom and I think its teachings become more and more relevant as you grow older. What was once a strange, but wonderful, little story about a pilot who meets a boy from the stars, becomes a story on the nature of love and remaining true to yourself in a world that tries so hard to scrub the magic out of you. I first met Little Prince and his friends when I was six and they have lived deep in my heart since, ever a source of inspiration and comfort. Wherever Saint-Exupéry is–and I like to believe that he flew himself all the way to Asteroid B-612–I hope he found some measure of peace and happiness, as I found in his words.

Moving from YA to Adult Fantasy – Because Not All Adult Fantasy is BDSM Elves

When you’re a small child and you happen to be a frequent visitor of libraries, there’s a certain sense of ritual in moving up from one range of grade-level shelves to the next. It’s the bookish version of being elevated from squire to knight. Except you’re the one holding the sword and tapping your own shoulders. Dub dub. Rise up, Sir Katherine, Explorer of Magic Treehouses, Rescuer of Princesses in Paper Bags. Rise up in the name of our Lord Dewey.

The first time I moved from the children’s section to the YA–out from the forest of rotating pillars of chapter books to the towering skyscrapers of hardbacks and paperbacks, some even thicker than the width of my hand–I felt so damn proud and mature. I strolled over, chin-high, all four-feet of swagger and the dumb little-kid cockiness that comes with knowing that you read way above your grade-level–that you’re a “mature reader,” whatever that means. I browsed over those shelves like I’d always belonged there and knew exactly what I was looking for.

Well, when I was thirteen or so, I decided to take the same stroll over to the Adult Fantasy section. My shoulders were set. I did my casual, totally-mature-enough-for-this perusal. And my eyes caught on a particular name: R.A. Salvatore. Wow, I thought. Now that is a fantasy author name. So I snagged one of the copies and took it to the check-out counter feeling pretty good about myself.

Hours later I was staring at the pages in horror. See, up to that point I had only been exposed to one type of elves in fantasy: the pretty, regal ones from Tolkien’s world. The ones that look like they’ve been airbrushed to hell (or heaven) and back in the movies. Then I discovered Salvatore’s female drows, who were apparently very mean, casually-whip-carrying elves with a penchant for dealing out physical punishments.

I was reeling.

Was this what all modern fantasy was like? Dominatrix elves?

I stopped about two chapters in, wiser of the depraved ways of adult fantasy lovers, then reread Artemis Fowl in an attempt to cleanse my brain.

I eventually discovered books that were much more appealing for a middle school girl, and realized that, no, not all adult fantasy is BDSM elves (though nowadays I wouldn’t exactly complain if it were).

So if you are a teen, or an adult who wants to take a first dip into adult fantasy, here are some recommendations for books–new and old, popular and less-known–that blur the line between YA and adult, and may help make your transition a little less…traumatic.

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1. First Mistborn Trilogy by Brandon Sanderson

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Most of Sanderson’s work is accessible for younger audiences, in my opinion, but I think the first Mistborn trilogy serves as the best jumping-off point to the Cosmere universe. The series is chock full of great worldbuilding and one of the most dynamic magic systems out there, but the characters are what really sells the story. Vin’s struggles to find acceptance and love, amidst revolutions and wars and political turmoils, is one that anyone can easily empathize with. Her journey from unknown street urchin to hero will leave you fist-pumping and clinging to the edge of your seat.

2. Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier

Daughter of the Forest
The first in a series that is one of my all-time favourites, Daughter of the Forest is a take on a classic fairy tale, The Six Swans, in which a sorceress turns her stepchildren into swans. Well, all except for one–Sorcha, the sole daughter of the Sevenwaters family. The curse on her brothers will only be broken if she can make six shirts out of nettle plants (starwort, in this version) and remain silent through the duration of the task. It’s a story that is at once otherworldly and so utterly human–one of old magics, families, and sacrifice. Sorcha’s selflessness and courage and love in the face of unrelenting evil was nothing short of inspiring to me as a teenager. I think it was one of the first books I read where a “strong female protagonist” didn’t simply equate to a genderbent version of a male fantasy protagonist–physically strong, snarky, and hating “traditionally female” tasks. Though there are many retellings of the original story, Marillier’s version is one that all young women (and men) should read.

3. The Silvered by Tanya Huff

The Silvered
The Silvered is a shapeshifter story done to perfection. Aydori is a kingdom in which werewolves and mages coexist and rule together via marriage. One day, the neighbouring Empire decides to swoop in and kidnap five Mage-Pack women and everything is thrown to chaos. Now it’s up to Mirian Maylin, a mage with very little magical ability, and Tomas Hagen, brother of the Wolf Pack leader, to rescue them.

This may seem like a typical paranormal romance at a glance, but it’s not. Mirian is no heroine falling head-over-heels for the mysterious wolf boy, and Tomas is no brooding alpha douche. She’s a no-nonsense young woman with a practical approach to everything, and he’s a confused young man recovering from a recent tragedy. They’re complex characters and to see their relationship develop from wary trust to friendship (and more…?) is an absolute delight.

4. Age of Assassins by R.J. Barker

Age of Assassins
If any (softcore) grimdark deserves to be displayed on the YA table at the local bookstore without leaving me shaking my head in bafflement, it’s Age of Assassins. Fifteen-year old Girton Clubfoot is an assassin-in-training with a master who is, arguably, the best in the land. But he’s also a sheltered teenager. And when he and his master become tasked with preventing the assassination of the kingdom’s crown prince, he finds himself flung into a whirlwind of court politics. Girton is an utterly likeable character and his struggles to navigate the social cliques within the castle, fend of bullies, and deal with first-time crushes are things that all young readers can relate to.


5. A Green and Ancient Light by Frederic S. Durbin

A Green and Ancient Light
A Green and Ancient Light is one of those stories that feel timeless, perfect for anyone–child, teen, or adult. It’s old riddles and magical creatures and discovery of worlds that exist just beyond our own. It juxtaposes the beauty of childhood and fairy tales with the harshness of human conflict.

I would compare my experience with it to sitting on a porch on an early summer evening with my eyes closed, basking in the the caress of the waning sunlight.

A soft, gentle story for fans of The Book of Lost Things and Over the Garden Wall.