Customer Reviews

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, Book 1 (The Inheritance Trilogy)

5 star:		(63)
4 star:		(29)
3 star:		(10)
2 star:		(12)
1 star:		(12)

 

 

[This review is based on an Advanced Reading Copy]

What if gods were real...and walked among us...enslaved...and were used as weapons...and were really pissed off about it?

N.K. Jemisin is a gifted storyteller and The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is a satisfying tale built on intriguing ideas. Buy this book if you love the flights of imagination only possible in fantasy. Buy it if you love stories of betrayal, murder, hard truths, and being in way over your head.

The book is written in the first person. I usually hate this. Here, it works. There are scattered, apparent digressions: snippets of history, backstory. This may bother you. I thought it fit, and the digressions served a purpose. Though the story deals with politics at the highest level, the cast is small. For those who get lost and frustrated in a George R. R. Martin-sized cast, this is a boon. Jemisin's characters are clearly differentiated and easy to remember. Those who love additional complexity may wish the cast were larger and the book longer. This IS the first book in a trilogy, so I'm sure we'll get to see more in later books. The world is fascinating, but we spend most of this book inside the central palace of Sky. The visuals are clear and cool.

[Full disclosure: I have met Ms. Jemisin once, and she is published by the same company I am. However, neither she nor Orbit asked me to do this review.]

N.K. Jemisin is a debut novelist who deserves the chance to write many more novels. But you don't care about that, and you shouldn't. The only question that matters to you is, "Among all my other options, is THIS book worth my money and my time?" Yes, and yes. Emphatically.

-Brent Weeks

NYT Best-selling Author of The Night Angel Trilogy

There's a lot of hype about this book, coming even from people whose opinions I respect, so when I found a cheap copy I snatched it up. The back cover copy suggests political intrigue, fascinating worldbuilding, a good romance. The book offers none of these things.

The worldbuilding is, in brief places, quite interesting. I drank up little details about Yeine's culture, matrilineal and female-dominant, yet more complex than the "man-eating bitches" variant I've seen elsewhere. Do we get a full exploration of this society? Sadly not. Is Yeine a complicated product of it, struggling with her mixed heritage and, now, the transition from leader of her tribe to the token barbarian girl in a patrilineal white society? No. As with the other hints - distant lands, the division between Naha and Nahadoth - we are given too little, in favour of Sky and the relationships within it. I suspect we are meant to find Sky boring - it's entirely white and smooth and sterile - but intention hardly distracts from how terribly, terribly boring it is to read about Sky. Surely it could have merited a few pretty lines of description, but Jemisin's prose is bare and simple. Description seems low on the book's priorities. (One glimmer is the old temple with two boarded-up windows - a great detail - but soon we're back to white, plain Sky. The good bits are only glimmers.)

If Sky is intentionally bland, the characterisation and plot should compensate, yes? Sadly not. The plot focuses on relationships more than political scheming; when it switches to the latter, it's a politics without the layers and difficult-to-penetrate intentions of a book that pitches itself as being about politics. In some places, the politics seems a distraction before we get back to the important business of Yeine talking to gods and fretting a bit. I did like the chapter called "Diamonds" (all the chapters are named as straightforwardly and pointlessly as this, as if numbers alone are too naked); I can believe in Yeine's need to take a blunt approach in her limited time scale, and the method is fun to read. Little else impressed me.

A relationship-focused story requires great characters to succeed. This story offers little. I adored Sieh, a layered and pleasant-to-read character, and found Nahadoth sometimes interesting - especially the underexplored Naha/Nahadoth aspect of him. Sometimes he reminded me too much of the melodramatic hero in manga or fanfiction. - SPOILERS - In fact, a lot of the relationship between Yeine and Nahadoth reminded me of fanfiction, which is not a slight on the entire genre; rather, I thought of the overwrought and silly relationships depicted in some stories, with kisses at unexpected moments, proclamations of lost tenderness, assurances that it is not lost, no, merely hidden in the terrible present, and a truly ridiculous sex scene. (They fly through the universe and see whales with the faces of long-lost friends.)

- END SPOILERS -

Yeine herself had so much potential. The young leader of her tribe, uprooted to a distant and deeply different seat of power, where she is quickly expected to know enough to survive. And there are glimpses of her background affecting the present: the world's equivalent of coloured contact lenses freaks her out, she's blunter than her Arameri relations, she makes an effort to research various things. Yet never did I believe in her ability to lead a tribe, to act with more than her bluntness, to plan in the long-term, to participate in any kind of culture - because she, like Sky, is so bland. Certainly she lacks agency for much of the novel, through no fault of her own, but in her frustration and confusion and attempts to act I got no good glimpse of the woman she is said to be. She finds the cold-hearted culture incomprehensible, but little else of the Arameri surprises her; perhaps her Arameri mother prepared her for its differences, but fundamental things like the role of men and women never seem to trouble her. Never even draw a remark. There's one moment when she's condescending towards men. One, that I recall, in 398 pages narrated by a woman from a female-dominated society. Even if her mother schooled her into a more equal-handed attitude - though I wonder what her tribe would have thought - it didn't ring true.

Other characters, besides Sieh, impressed me just as little. I'd have liked more of Relad, her male cousin, but he's sidelined in favour of evil Scimina. The author admits to intentionally writing Scimina as two-dimensional "Just Because" a fantasy story needs a big Evil and if Scimina had been otherwise, Yeine might have sympathised with her and found it difficult to act against her. (I am not lying: [...]) This refusal to give Yeine a moral quandary is indicative of how little Yeine pays for the entire core plot. Her god-friends are tortured but heal immediately, and at least externally brush off the psychological wounds. She is taken from her homeland but, as with much else of Yeine's character, I didn't actually feel convinced by her moments of homesickness. By the end, she has gained a lot, yet she's not especially struggled. If she'd sat on her hands for two weeks, the ending in Sky would essentially have been the same (though the side-plot of her homeland's military situation would probably have turned out worse for them). Dekarta, T'vril and Viraine never excited me, nor did the other trapped gods - none of whom, besides Sieh, read believably like gods.

Everything about this book had such potential. By the end, I thought forlornly of it written differently, with a denser plot and complicated characters, and wish I'd read that book instead. This one just disappoints with its all-round blandness.

Hype. A powerful tool in the publishing industry. It's an impressive achievement when a yet-to-be-published author can create and maintain buzz about their debut novel, with readers going gaga over something that hasn't even hit store shelves. It's exciting for those readers, but dangerous as well. For every time an author lives up to that hype (Patrick Rothfuss) several others fail to take advantage, to prove they were worth it (Robert Newcomb, anyone?). As a reviewer, I try to separate myself from the hype, to choose my books based on what I find interesting, not what the publishers are pushing hardest. Sometimes, though, it's unavoidable. The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by N.K. Jemisin is one of those cases.

As with any highly-anticipated novel, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms had predefined itself in my mind, based on nothing more than the blurb on the back of the book and the beautiful cover. Before it even arrived on my doorstep, it was a victim of preconceptions and expectations. I opened The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms expecting one book and found a very different beast within. Expectations are often dangerous, but in this case, the smashing of them was a very good thing indeed, for I expected a familiar story, only to find a wonderfully original one in its place.

The synopsis hints at a traditional novel - young, naive protagonist, whisked into adventure and intrigue, shouldered with the responsibility of saving the world and navigating the bloody politics of her land. Even the tittle, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms suggests the novel is an expansive struggle of lands and kingdoms, typical of Epic Fantasy (or Secondary World Fantasy, take your pick of sub-genre). For a truer impression of the novel, one has to consider its history, or, more aptly, the history of its title.

Originally, the novel was titled The Sky-God's Lover, a title much more accurate to the tone and plot of the novel. Jemisin's novel is very much a character-driven narrative, delving deep into the politics and relationships between its small cast of characters, rather than the kingdom-encompassing politics that its published title may suggest. Now, there is some true politicking included, but only a handful of the `Hundred Thousand Kingdoms' are involved, and the disputes are more a display of power and coercion in the bitter relationship between protagonist Yeine and antagonist Scimina. For a novel titled The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms there is little world building or world-ranging conflict. The true heart of The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms lies in Yeine's relationship to the characters (human and god) around her, most importantly the fallen Sky God, Nahadoth. The Sky-God's Lover hints at the complexity of this relationship as it winds through its labyrinthine twists and turns through the slim novel.

Many novels written in first person perspective are done so for stylistic reasons only. The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms embraces the that style and weaves a story that could only be told directly from Yeine's mouth (or pen, I suppose). There is a subtle dichotomy between and Yeine-the-girl, whom the story is about, and Yeine-the-woman, who narrates the story. Jemisin often breaks the fourth wall, with Yeine-the-narrator gathering her thoughts, throwing doubt on her recollections of events or characters and leaving the constant feeling that much is left unsaid, that the truths of the story are between the words, just out of reach.

Those characters surrounding Yeine are a mixed bag. The gods Nahadoth and Sieh are tragic and compelling, the relationship between them and Yeine growing organically through the novel. In contrast, Scimina, who stands in as the antagonist for the novel (for lack of a better term) is shallow and cliched - mean for the meanness sake, never as intelligent as the reader is told she is, and lacking in depth or motivation beyond desiring to rule the kingdoms. Her brother Relad, the other contender to the throne alongside Scimina and Yeine, is even shallower - a drunkard who sees very little screen time and serves more as a plot device than a character. Jemisin chose to focus on the gods, who are admittedly more interesting than the humans, and so the politicking for the throne is less compelling than it could have been.

Magic is central to the story - from the subtle magic used to reconstruct a trashed bedroom, to the earth shattering magic of a mad god - but there is little in the way of rules to contain the magic, beyond deciding which higher-ranking noble outranks the other and can control the whims of the chained gods. It does anything needed, no questions asked. But, then, these are gods we're talking about, so perhaps that's fitting. Certainly the spectacle is there and Jemisin's imagery of the magic is astute and often astounding.

Jemisin's novel is tonally reminiscent of Daniel Abraham's The Long Price Quartet, a quiet reflection on the important themes of love, prejudice, rule and family. Yeine explores and fights with these facets of relationship and shows remarkable growth through the story. The relationships can often be brash and heavy-handed, but, like any that develop quickly and in times of duress, they are realistically bold and whimsical. The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is marketed as the first volume of a trilogy but stands entirely on its own, with all major plot strings tied up at the end, the premise of future volumes hinted at only in the final pages of the satisfying climax.

Oftentimes, hype can be a dangerous thing, but in the case of The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, I fell for the trap - hook, line and sinker. In the end, the few shortcomings of the novel were easily overlooked as Jemisin took my expectations and tossed them away, giving me a novel I never knew I wanted, but ended up needing so badly. A confident debut, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms promises of great things to come from this bright new voice in Fantasy fiction.

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms takes place in a world where a single empire, headed by the Arameri family, has conquered one hundred thousand kingdoms. They enforce their colonial adventures with the power of four enslaved gods, all of whom hate their masters but lack the ability to escape.

Some years before the novel begins, the daughter of the Arameri ruler ran off with a noble from Darre, one of the weaker and more remote of the hundred thousand kingdoms. She gave up her position as the Arameri heir and bore a daughter, Yeine Darr, who would grow up to rule her father's tribe.

Yeine Darr seems content with her life in Darre, until her mother dies and Yeine is summoned to her grandfather's court where she is named as one of the heirs to the hundred thousand kingdoms. Now, trapped in her grandfather's palace, Yeine must navigate an unfamiliar culture, defending her life against the machinations of her treacherous cousins, and searching for secrets about her mother's death. Her only advantage is an uneasy alliance with the enslaved gods who are clearly using her for their own, mysterious ends.

It's clear early on that Yeine will have a romantic relationship with one the gods, Nahadoth the Nightlord, who shares many traits with the archetypal brooding hero. Nahadoth is described early on as a savage god of destruction, though his inclinations appear to be more complex than that. He is a god of chaos and change. Having been enslaved for centuries, Nahadoth is wrathful and bitter as well as dangerous and unpredictable.

In some ways, Nahadoth resembles the lately popular vampire lovers -- eternal, handsome, dangerous, unpredictable. However unlike many vampire swains, Nahadoth's motivations are fully fleshed, allowing him to manifest behaviors that exist apart from the romantic narrative.

Importantly, Nahadoth's characterization deepens over the course of the novel, but remains consistent with his personality and powers. There's no suggestion that he becomes safe simply because he's romantically interested in Yeine. The sex scenes between them are legitimately frightening, the tension woven so that pleasure and violence seem like easily plausible outcomes.

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is immediately compelling, featuring a masterful set of opening chapters. The exposition unfolds at an exciting rate, creating effortless wonder as the reader discovers the novel's world in an organic, credible way. The setting details are specific, unique, beautiful, and believable, with some truly stunning writing.

This book was one of the best I read in 2009 (I read an advanced review copy). It's well-considered, well-written, and well worth reading.

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is the first book in the Inheritance Trilogy, written by first time author N.K. Jemisin, a new voice in the fantasy genre. The book is far from perfect, but as far as debut novels go, it's pretty good. The story follows the adventures of Yeine, leader of a somewhat barbarian tribe who happens to be the granddaughter of the most powerful man in the world. Her grandfather, seemingly out of the blue, names her one of three potential heirs. Yeine finds herself in a whole new world of intrigue and danger, as she realizes that her rivals will stop at nothing to take the throne. And even more dangerous, perhaps, is the fact that Yeine's grandfather and his progeny control a God and his offspring who, bitter after years of abuse and confinement, have their own deadly agendas.

Jemisin writes from the limited first person perspective of Yeine. So a lot of the action occurs off the page and is related by Yeine some time later. Yeine is an entertaining narrator. She is intelligent, funny, and likeable. She is also pretty ignorant at first, which leaves the reader equally ignorant. If you like that style of writing, you should like Jemisin's style. The prose is nothing fancy. Jemisin can write some pretty good descriptive narration when she wants to, but it doesn't really fit with Yeine's style of addressing the reader. The dialogue is generally sound but can be a little wooden and unrealistic at times. The result of the narrative, too, is that some plot elements and action sequences are poorly explained. The novel can be confusing at times, not because of any internal complexity, but simply from poor explanation. But for the most part, the reader can understand what is going on pretty easily.

As far as the plot goes, the story reminded me of a combination of Neil Gaiman's Stardust and Brandon Sanderson's Warbreaker, which is, in my opinion, no bad thing. Behind-the-scenes political maneuvering plays an important role, but give way pretty early on to the imprisoned Gods, who really come to dominate the novel as it progresses. The Gods' are varied and interesting, albeit somewhat archetypical (obvious analogs, for example, to Athena and Ares, any number of trickster Gods, etc.). The plot has a bit of a romance novel feel to it. The leader of the Gods is, apparently, immensely beautiful, deeply sensual, incredibly dangerous, and ridiculously good in bed. Basically, he comes off like the male lead in countless romance novels. But that aside, the romantic aspects were reasonably well done and don't hinder the story.

The main reason why The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms gets only 3 stars is that it just isn't that exciting. Jemisin has a lot of potential and can do a lot with the Inheritance Trilogy. But this one leaves a lot to be desired. She does everything well, but she does very little exceptionally well. The characters are interesting but unmemorable. The plot is good but not gripping. The twists are clever but somewhat predictable. The magic is okay but not very well described or explained. Basically, the novel is okay (especially for a debut novel), but it could have been great. The pieces are there and Jemisin, I think, has the talent. But I'm interested enough to pick up the sequel.

So if you're looking for an entertaining and quick read, you could do worse than picking up Jemisin's the Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. It isn't spectacular. It's not going to change the fantasy genre. But it's fun. And Jemisin certainly has the potential to become one of the great young voices in the genre.

[I read an ARC of this, furnished by the Publisher]

Its a very strange thing to read a book as if its another's disjointed memories clashing with one and other to be told first. At first I wasn't sure what I was reading--there would be strange asides that would break pieces of the tale, that would draw me either forward or back to an even farther back time, but always the asides made sense. The story is told from first person perspective (Yeine's) and the asides gave me the impression that she was having an argument with herself as she told the tale.

And the tale begins impressively with Yeine telling us her mother fought to keep her within her womb. From there it only became more urgent and dire. Yeine told the tale with a certain amount of detachment, which makes sense as the story progresses. Often when she found herself stumbling to remember something, some small thing perhaps that meant importance, I could recall times I had that problem. Sometimes the tale gets ahead of the teller, my grandmother used to tell me. Always Yeine caught herself and would bring the direction of the narrative back again.

I found myself sympathizing with Yeine often, but I felt worse for Sieh and Nahadoth, even Naha (though his casual cruelty chilled me). The two Gods trapped in mortal shells were at once powerful, but enslaved. Only able to act out when a member of the Arameri carelessly spoke or ordered them to. Their story, of how they became mortals and of the truth behind Yeine, is as twisted as any god's origins. This isn't to say it was confusing, but when a tale is several hundreds of thousands of years old who really cares to remember the truth of it? Really the details remained fixed in their minds, the circumstances really mattered very little to them.

Yeine's struggle--first to figure out why she was summoned so abruptly to her Grandfather's side after two decades of indifference, then to the truth behind everything (her mother's death, her own birth, the truth behind the religion...)--is hard and cruel. She's thrown into the viper's den without so much as a by-your-leave, with no idea who to trust and the vaguest notions of how to get on. Her so-called 'family' is actively plotting to have her removed, her homeland eradicated and all trace of her gone. Her only friend is another half-breed, who pretty much tells her hope is lost and she best figure out a way to save herself if she can. Trust is a dangerous, expensive and ultimately foolish pursuit for Yeine--anyone who can help her, won't, anybody who does isn't really helping her and anyone who truly means to help, even their intentions are stained with selfish desires.

I'll go on record saying this--the last two chapters pack a wallop and poetic justice does not do what happens well enough. Its not quite the ending I expected for anyone involved to be honest. I think though you'd be hard-pressed to find a more perfect one for any involved.

The ARC edition I have had 3 Appendixes (covering the terminology, further explanations for the terminology, and a short account of history as the Arameri saw it), an interview with the author (she wants to write for Square-Enix and Atlus--that alone makes her awesome in my book) and a short teaser for the forthcoming second book. I admit I am a sucker for Appendixes in books, I love that sort of stuff (in fact half the words in this review wouldn't have been spelled correctly except for Appendix one) and the explanations? Even better.

I strongly, strongly suggest that you go buy the book. I can't recommend it enough. I read it in four hours the same day that the book arrived on my doorstep--isn't that proof enough right there?

I was rather excited to read this novel. Reviews promised all my favourite elements: high fantasy, heavily character-based, first-person narrative, political intrigue... Unfortunately, the package falls short of breathtaking. To be honest, I believe it falls short of just about any positive criticism I've read.

Yeine, the main character, is introduced in such a way as to intrigue even the most cynical reader: she's a blunt, shrewd, and frankly fearless protagonist, uprooted from her home at the behest her grandfather to live in the floating city of the intimidating ruling class. We soon come to realize, however, that Yeine is about as interesting and compelling as a paint swatch. The author seems to attempt to make up for Yeine's lack of personality by having her either under or overreact to everything that is said or done to her. In fact, there is no subtlety whatsoever to the emotions or actions of any characters in this novel. It's either ridiculously intense staring contests or explosive anger/soap opera-worthy melodrama. Characters that have the potential for compelling, well-rounded personalities are under-explored (Sieh, Relad). The only thing N K Jemisin seems to do well is the layout of society. I loved the concept of a ruling class of god-favoured people, secure in their position despite having to rely on the volatile gods and godlings. Descriptions of the floating city of Sky were interesting and original, but they came at the expense of a decent exploration of Yeine's homeland and customs, which are only mentioned in passing (despite the fact that Darre plays an important role in the novel). Over and over, it seems the land of Darre, the godling Sieh, and all the most interesting concepts and characters are overlooked in favour of Nahadoth's "ttly hawt bodee". At times, this book reads like an adult Twilight Saga, right down to ...SPOILER ALERT...

Yeine's transformation from a plain, overlooked young woman into a goddess, where she can finally join her god lover and godling stepchildren. END OF SPOILER ALERT

Read the positive reviews too, perhaps this IS the book for you. As a Robin Hobb and Lynn Flewelling fan (used to deep characterization and excellent world-building), I was less than impressed.

he Hundred Thousand Kingdoms (2010) is a somewhat convoluted tale of politics and deities. A young, rural noble, Yeine, is whisked away to the world's capital city, where she learns that she's one of three competing heirs to the throne. In the short time she has before her inevitable death by the hands of her competing cousins, Yeine has to unravel her family's secret history, understand the true nature of the land's strange gods and, most difficult at all, wade through a field of asterisms.

* * *

An asterism is a series of three punctuation marks (usually periods or asterisks) that is used to denote subchapters. You may have seen it used. Perhaps if you're a 19th century printer. Or in a freshman poetry class.

* * *

Interestingly, the author litters nearly every single page with these landmines of punctuation. This makes for a distinctive writing style. And by distinctive, I mean "frustrating". I can only guess at the intention. Perhaps they were meant to offset the near-stream of conscious (rivulet of consciousness?) style of the protagonist's first-person prose? But any advantage to doing that was swiftly lost when

* * *

You're getting annoyed now right? Not just having the bloody things interrupt mid-sentence, but, if you're paying attention, you may have noticed that you're now reading in the second person, instead of the first.

* * *

The book does toy with some interesting concepts - at least in passing. In the setting of The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, the good guys have won. The evil night-god is imprisoned and forced to do construction work. The good sky-god and his kinfolk are ruling the world. Peace reigns. War is strictly controlled - and mostly bloodless. Yet, as the author constantly recites, there's something wrong about this. The ruling class is decadent, the succession schemes are bloody and some of the outlying barbarian cultures aren't getting equal representation in the Council of Nobles. (This is, interestingly, a topic raised in Robert Graves' I, Claudius - in which he talks about the excesses of Tiberius and the omnipresent fear of his close kin, but then also points out that, for the millions of people in the Roman Empire, life had never been better.)

* * *

You'd probably want to know more about this interesting take on a fantasy civilisation, wouldn't you? Me too.

* * *

Most of the book focuses with Yeine and her family problems. Not to trivialize them - her family is composed of gods and emperors - but they're actually not that interesting.

In fact, by the halfway point, the entire plot of the book has been established and the author has already underlined the moral conclusions (this world = WRONG). Yeine has five days to live, let's follow her around and see how she spends them... The answer, of course, being "in bed" - with her "thousand-mouthed, god-phallused" lover. Much to my distress, the only lengthy-un-asterismed passages are those in which Yeine is being taken to the great heights of pleasure (literally) and subsumed by the forbidden pleasures of her primordial lover. I'm not so prudish that I don't mind a good sex scene, but, for about half the book, that's all that happens. Should Yeine sleep with the captive-god? Ok, again? What about again? Oooh. Ok, it was reeeally good that time - but maybe she should... nope, happened again. ENOUGH.

* * *

Asterisms do make writing a review a lot easier. You don't need to actually complete arguments. I'm starting to understand

* * *

Beyond the now-thoroughly-irritating asterisms, the book commits another horrific stylistic flaw. Italics are for emphasis. See? That stood out, didn't it? That's because, typographically, italics are different

* * *

But your eyes get a little tired if you read paragraph after paragraph in italicised text. It isn't really meant to be read for a long period of time. Think about it, if it were legible, all text would be italics. But, waaaay too often, especially in genre fiction, authors use italics to convey the difference or the importance of an entire bloody scene. Perhaps the most overused convention is to have a particular character or method of communication always take place in italics. For example, any time a god speaks, or a character does some sort of psychic chit-chat. That's annoying, but almost (not quite) forgivable - as long as said character doesn't mind-link for a page at a time. But to have entire scenes in italics? That's completely illegible. And it is particularly annoying when it is, say, the entire climax of the book. The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms actually wraps up the entire fate of the book, its protagonist, the empire and its holy pantheon... in a italicised wonderfest that turns the entire thing into eye-aching gibberish. If the entire climax is so important that it needs to be emphasised, isn't it more important that it can actually be read?

* * *

Here's a question: where was the editor in all this? Here's another: was it their fault?

* * *

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is an exercise in style over substance. I find this a particular shame, as the style is atrocious and the substance is quite promising. I say this fully aware that style is a personal decision, and I applaud the author's daring-do in pushing the typographic and punctuated boundaries of genre fiction. I applaud, however, with one hand, as I need the other to pour myself some aspirin.

Overall, I liked this story. The initial hook got me interested and the book kept rolling along at a decient pace.

However, my biggest critism was having to overcome the choppy breaks in thought though the whole book. I understand that she wanted to convey that she had another piece of information that was important but it came off like she was either snarkily witholding information or completely A.D.D. flipping from one thought to the next. Either way it was distracting to incert like 2 sentences that didn't contribute to the flow of the story in every chapter.

I really believe that her interpretation of gods was enjoyable if not completely new and that future books could really capitalize if they take place in this backdrop. I also appreciated that all the loose ends were tied up nicely by the end w/ a few small twists.

I will read the next book in the series.

OK, first things first: This book is great. I'd especially recommend it to anyone who has a dual interest in urban fantasy and high fantasy.

Urban fantasy lovers will enjoy: the strong female protagonist, the first person narration, the intimate setting (it's not one of those sprawling high fantasies that has umpteen main characters scattered about the world on dozens of interlocking quests), and the dangerous romance.

High fantasy lovers will enjoy: the well-developed mythology, high-stakes politics, gods running amok among humans, beautifully realized alternate reality.

I'm always impressed when books like this one really work, because they rarely do. The make-or-break quality to The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is the sheer quality of the writing. If you dig it, you're in for a wild ride. If not, there's no point in continuing. The main character, Yeine, narrates in a voice that is weighty, intimate, and oracular. There's plenty of action and plot development, but it's Yeine's asides, observations, and forebodings that send goosebumps up your arms as you read. As you can tell, it totally worked for me.

Actually, let me give an example. This is the second paragraph of the book: "My people tell stories of the night I was born. They say my mother crossed her legs in the middle of labor and fought with all her strength not to release me into the world. I was born anyhow, of course; nature cannot be denied. Yet it does not surprise me that she tried."

I'd describe the plot, but it's been done elsewhere. Yeine walks into a bad situation - she's a fish out of water plunged into court intrigues she's totally unfamiliar with, with many enemies and no allies - and things only get harder as she starts to figure things out. She's a really likable, strong, admirable character and it was a pleasure to spend some time in her head, but she faces some pretty horrific dilemmas. I was prepared to roll my eyes at a character/love interest named "the Nightlord" but he totally worked for me...surprise surprise. Highly recommended.