silver phoenix: beyond the kingdom of xia, by cindy pon.

I know very little about fantasy -- I mean, I know what it means and what stories/novels would be considered fantasy -- but if you were to ask me, "What is the archetype of fantasy literature?" or "What classic fantasy tropes do you think have been written well?" or even "What fantasy novel do you think is the most telling of its genre?", well, I'd look at you like you grew three heads in the course of a few seconds. So really, I know nothing in the most direct sense about fantasy novels.

But this is one of the best fantasy books I've read of all time. OF ALL TIME.

It's set in ancient China, complete with the folklore and customs and culture, with a female protagonist who runs away from home to go find her father. The trope in of itself has been done before, but there is such originality that Pon brings, like the language and prose-- simple and lilting, that makes me feel like I'm there with Ai Ling. One of my favorite things that I love about her, though, is her resoluteness and true acts of bravery. When she met up with the sea dragon, I seriously got shivers because of 1) my love for dragons who aim to protect humans, and 2) everything was peaceful and full of light and everything felt right.

Oh, some of my favorite things is all the bits with Ai Ling and Chen Yong. Their bond! It is seriously so impressive to see how they changed and evolved, how Ai Ling grew up along the journey, with Chen Yong watching. This part made me SAD:

"It was a mistake to ask you to accompany me to Master Tan's. We should go our separate ways." He spoke without looking at her.

The numbness remained. Good. She willed her features to stay composed.

"Get her a room." Chen Yong threw two gold coins on the bamboo counter. They clinked and rolled in opposite directions before the barkeep's large palms stopped them both.

"Oh. She'll get the best in the house at that price," the barkeep said, grinning widely at them.

"I don't need your alms," Ai Ling said, her heart thudding in her ears.

Chen Yong turned without saying another word. He shoved the dark blue cloth aside and vanished.

Sometimes the way they look at each other makes me ♥_♥ at my page. Mostly, I'm fascinated by Chen Yong and his journey. I love how Pon never divulges much, only what the reader needs to know -- I guess to remain as mysterious as possible? Or possibly so she can explore in her sequel -- but the way he makes Ai Ling woozy and feel, makes me so happy--

Ai Ling's legs quivered at the thought of climbing a mountain, no matter how small. Chen Yong rolled up the parchment and met her gaze. The skin under his eyes was dark, as if faintly smudged with soot. Weariness from travel had sharpened his features, making his amber eyes deeper set, his jaw line and cheekbones more defined. She blinked and half turned, embarrassed, when she realized she was staring.

--the way she easily forgives when he smiles or stands near her. The farewell at the carriage at the end! So much pining! Ugh, them.

AND EVERYTHING ABOUT LI RONG MADE ME SO, SO HAPPY. Oh, Li Rong. ;____;

This might be my favorite passage out of the book, though--

Chen Yong retrieved the bundle and sat down next to the fire, removing a thin folded parchment with careful hands. The page was yellowed, the black calligraphy visible from the underside as he held it to the light.

Ai Ling watched as he folded each letter after reading it and opened another with gentle fingers. Li Rong sat up, scratching his head. He opened his mouth to speak, saw the expression on Chen Yong's face, and lay back down again.

So it went until the mist dissipated and sunlight shone through the bamboo leaves above them. Chen Yong sat hunched near the flames, his broad shoulders folded forward, in a posture of reverent prayer. He was oblivious to everything by the words written by a father he never knew. Ai Ling's gaze did not stray from his face. Faint lines creased between his dark brows at certain moments, crinkled around his eyes when he narrowed them as he read.

Finally he folded the last letter and tied the blue ribbon around the bundle once more. Having stayed silent longer than she would have believed was possible, Li Rong spoke. "What did the letters tell, old brother?"

But Chen Yong didn't reply and wiped the tears from his face.

♥CHEN YONG♥

But really, if I'm going to leave you with anything, it'd be this--

"Eating like this reminds me of our journey," Chen Yong said.

"I come here often with a snack. I think about it a lot."

"And by snack, do you mean two sweet buns, a thick slab of bread, and lots of dried pork?" He laughed before she could retort. But the sound of it lifted her own spirit, and she chuckled despite herself.

"I usually just have a fruit myself," he said.

Ai Ling tossed a persimmon into his lap. "I'm sorry if you don't know how to eat properly."

He threw his head back and laughed again. She tried to capture the moment like a sketch within her mind, the feeling of his shoulder pressed against hers, the warmth of the autumn sun on their faces.

♥

the no. 1 ladies' detective agency, by alexander mccall smith.

This book had a very unique storytelling presence that I quite enjoyed. (A good friend sent it to me back in August, and I have finally sat down and read it. I feel really bad since it wasn't her book to begin with. Uh, I at least didn't damage it? :D?) When Precious talked about Africa, it reminded me of Haiti, the way she described the land and her feelings toward it. It made me stop and think, about what Haiti means to me, about the people and the culture. It was blunt in a way that made the narrative's affirmations clear, and I liked that. For example, this passage--

But why would I want to go to Zululand? Why should I ever want anything but to live in Botswana, and to marry a Tswana girl? I said to him that Zululand sounded fine, but that every man has a map in his heart of his own country and that the heart will never allow you for forget this map. I told him that in Botswana we did not have the green hills that he had in his place, nor the sea, but we had the Kalahari and land that stretched farther than one could imagine. I told him that if man is born in a dry place, then although he may dream of rain, he does not want too much, and that he will not mind the sun that beats down and down. So I never went with him to Zululand and I never saw the sea, ever. But that has not made me unhappy, not once.

(The entire chapter surrounding Obed's -- Precious' father -- history and life was kind of interesting to read. It's like listening to your grandfather's tale of yonder, his endless stories of how he got here, the pain and suffering he went through, and that small beacon of hope that got him through it and how He Made It, basically. My own parents have a ton of those stories.)

I also really loved how this book asserted women, for the most part. Of course, most Africans have a different culture than ours and women are still seen to have a distinct role in society, but it was really awesome to see people, especially Precious, breaking those boundaries and going into territory specifically designed for men.

I really liked this proverb--

"We are the ones who first ploughed the earth when Mother (God) made it," ran an old Setswana poem. "We were the ones who made the food. We are the ones who look after the men when they are little boys, when they are young men, and when they are old and about to die. We are always there. But we are just women, and nobody sees us."

--because it's something that's happening even today, and I think people forget just how important and vital women are sometimes, doing "thankless" jobs and the such.

Besides that, it's a kind of awesome book where Precious Ramotswe is a lady detective, the first of her kind, and sells her late father's cattle to buy a house and a business and becomes quite successful despite some people's discomfort at her being in that sort of position. Oh, I loved how she kept bringing up Agatha Christie every time someone was like, "But that makes no sense! You are a woman!" Like this--

"Women are the ones who know what's going on," she said quietly. "They are the ones with eyes. Have you not heard of Agatha Christie?"

The lawyer looked taken aback. "Agatha Christie? Of course I know her. Yes, that is true. A woman sees more than a man sees. That is well-known."

"So," said Mma Ramotswe, "when people see a sign saying NO. 1 LADIES' DETECTIVE AGENCY, what will they think? They'll think those ladies will know what's going on. They're the ones."

The lawyer stroked his chin. "Maybe."

"Yes," said Mma Ramotswe. "Maybe." Adding, "Your zip, Rra. I think you may not have noticed..."

SHE'S SO SASSY! I love it. And the whole story with Nandira was the the sweetest thing. She found her real Jack after all! I can't wait to read the rest of the books from this series, just to see if Precious gets her own happily ever after.

interpreter of maladies, by jhumpa lahiri.

The best part about this book, and there are many best parts, is the simple and clear language that Lahiri writes her stories, a story that tells one thing, but it can be translated into so many other little things because it's just so sharp. I love that all of her themes in the stories are about love, friendships, and relationships with people you love -- or are supposed to love -- or just people you meet.

This made my heart ache--

But the more I tried to distract myself, the more I began to convince myself that Mr. Pirzada's family was in all likelihood dead. Eventually I took a square of white chocolate out of the box, and unwrapped it, and then I did something I had never done before. I put the chocolate in my mouth, letting it soften until the last possible moment, and then as I chewed it slowly, I prayed that Mr. Pirzada's family was safe and sound. I had never prayed for anything before, had never been taught or told to, but I decided, given the circumstances, that it was something I should do. That night when I went to the bathroom I only pretended to brush my teeth, for I feared that I would somehow rinse the prayer out as well. I wet the bursh and rearranged the rube of paste to prevent my parents from asking questions, and fell asleep with sugar on my tongue.

--because it's such a child thing to do, to pray with chocolate, but just the nature of it is so clear-cut and real.

"Sexy" left me unsettled, left me feeling too much -- if that was possible -- because there were way too many people getting hurt, way too much unsettled emotions being spoken and unspoken. "A Real Durwan" made me terribly sad because all I can think about is how the residents of the apartment building cast out Boori Ma when she did nothing wrong, an old lady just trying to do her duties as she sees fit.

"The Third And Final Continent" though, was the perfect way to end the book, left on the hopeful tale that things can actually work out in the end.

I love how it went from this--

For five nights we shared a bed. Each of those nights, after applying cold cream and braiding her hair, which she tied up at the end with a black cotton string, she turned from me and wept; she missed her parents. Although I would be leaving the country in a few days, custom dictated that she was now a part of my household, and for the next six weeks she was to live with my brother and his wife, cooking, cleaning, serving tea and sweets to guest. I did nothing to console her.

--to this--

"She is a perfect lady!"

Now it was I who laughed. I did so quietly, and Mrs. Croft did not hear me. But Mala heard, and, for the first time, we looked at each other and smiled.

--and ended the book with this--

In my son's eyes I see the ambition that had first hurled me across the world. In a few years he will graduate and pave his way, alone and unprotected. But I remind myself that he has a father who is still living, a mother who is happy and strong. Whenever he is discouraged, I tell him that if I can survive on three continents, then there is no obstacle he cannot conquer. While the astronauts, heroes forever, spent mere hours on the moon, I have remained in this new world for nearly thirty years. I know that my achievement is quite ordinary. I am not the only man to seek his fortune far from home, and certainly not the first. Still, there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination.

♥