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hrjAs usual, this is a bit of a dual review: book review and meta-review of my relationship to the book, to genre, and to reading it. Meta-review first.
Under ordinary circumstances, I would never have read Karen Memory. As I regularly lament, the relationship of my to-be-read pile to my available reading time is such that a book has to really grab me to claw its way to the top. Steam-punk isn’t really my thing; Western settings aren’t really my thing. I’ve enjoyed some of Elizabeth Bear’s short fiction when I encountered it (I think mostly the New Amsterdam series). But I’ve never sensed that extra something that pushed me over the edge. And, sure, all sorts of my on-line friends were raving about how wonderful this book was going to be, but they do that a lot about books that leave me feeling rather meh, so it isn’t a good guideline. And then someone mentioned, “And the protagonist has a lesbian romance.” Say what? I went to look at all the official publicity for the book and could find nothing at all to confirm this. I looked at the blurbs pulled to promote it, and nothing. So I plunked down my electrons in the iBook store to pre-order it, but didn’t have high hopes, because if the publisher wants to keep that aspect of the book out of sight, then it was hard to believe it would be a significant and satisfying aspect of the story. Well, I was wrong about that. But I still long for the day when an SFF publisher doesn’t feel that they have to keep a queer woman’s sexuality hidden inside the covers.
Karen Memory is a lovely, exciting, atmospheric steam-punk adventure in an alternate goldrush-era Seattle (by another name), seen through the title character: one of the girls at Madame Damnable’s bordello. We have a serial killer, class and racial dynamics, political shenanigans hyped up by the influence of a mind-control device, chases through dark dangerous streets by means of a steampowered sewing machine (yes, really), and what feels like a somewhat tongue-in-cheek assortment of standard steam-punk tropes such as mechanical octopuses. Oh, and significant supporting characters include the real-life models for the Lone Ranger and Tonto as well as a delightfully diverse cast – one that is far more true to the realities of the late 19th century west coast than Hollywood defaults would have you believe.
Karen is an engaging protagonist, and the strong idiosyncratic “voice” that comes through the first-person narration makes this stand out above what might otherwise be an over-the-top romp. Her romance with another runaway prostitute is sweet and genuine without glossing over (or dwelling deeply on) the realities of their profession. (Given that profession, it’s worth noting that the book has essentially no on-page sex, and certainly doesn’t eroticize the business of a whorehouse.) And the romance ends happily – I don’t care if that’s a spoiler, it’s something I needed to know to be willing to invest in reading the book. Because, you know, sad experience and all that.
In conclusion, I am now willing to add to my “must read” list any book by Elizabeth Bear in which I am allowed to enjoy similar characters and relationships. But in order to do so, I have to know that they’re in there. I’m looking at you, publishers.
Under ordinary circumstances, I would never have read Karen Memory. As I regularly lament, the relationship of my to-be-read pile to my available reading time is such that a book has to really grab me to claw its way to the top. Steam-punk isn’t really my thing; Western settings aren’t really my thing. I’ve enjoyed some of Elizabeth Bear’s short fiction when I encountered it (I think mostly the New Amsterdam series). But I’ve never sensed that extra something that pushed me over the edge. And, sure, all sorts of my on-line friends were raving about how wonderful this book was going to be, but they do that a lot about books that leave me feeling rather meh, so it isn’t a good guideline. And then someone mentioned, “And the protagonist has a lesbian romance.” Say what? I went to look at all the official publicity for the book and could find nothing at all to confirm this. I looked at the blurbs pulled to promote it, and nothing. So I plunked down my electrons in the iBook store to pre-order it, but didn’t have high hopes, because if the publisher wants to keep that aspect of the book out of sight, then it was hard to believe it would be a significant and satisfying aspect of the story. Well, I was wrong about that. But I still long for the day when an SFF publisher doesn’t feel that they have to keep a queer woman’s sexuality hidden inside the covers.
Karen Memory is a lovely, exciting, atmospheric steam-punk adventure in an alternate goldrush-era Seattle (by another name), seen through the title character: one of the girls at Madame Damnable’s bordello. We have a serial killer, class and racial dynamics, political shenanigans hyped up by the influence of a mind-control device, chases through dark dangerous streets by means of a steampowered sewing machine (yes, really), and what feels like a somewhat tongue-in-cheek assortment of standard steam-punk tropes such as mechanical octopuses. Oh, and significant supporting characters include the real-life models for the Lone Ranger and Tonto as well as a delightfully diverse cast – one that is far more true to the realities of the late 19th century west coast than Hollywood defaults would have you believe.
Karen is an engaging protagonist, and the strong idiosyncratic “voice” that comes through the first-person narration makes this stand out above what might otherwise be an over-the-top romp. Her romance with another runaway prostitute is sweet and genuine without glossing over (or dwelling deeply on) the realities of their profession. (Given that profession, it’s worth noting that the book has essentially no on-page sex, and certainly doesn’t eroticize the business of a whorehouse.) And the romance ends happily – I don’t care if that’s a spoiler, it’s something I needed to know to be willing to invest in reading the book. Because, you know, sad experience and all that.
In conclusion, I am now willing to add to my “must read” list any book by Elizabeth Bear in which I am allowed to enjoy similar characters and relationships. But in order to do so, I have to know that they’re in there. I’m looking at you, publishers.
