Seanan McGuire

October Daye — (2009-2012) Publisher: The world of Faerie never disappeared: it merely went into hiding, continuing to exist parallel to our own. Secrecy is the key to Faerie's survival — but no secret can be kept forever, and when the fae and mortal worlds collide, changelings are born. Half-human, half-fae, outsiders from birth, these second-class children of Faerie spend their lives fighting for the respect of their immortal relations. Or, in the case of October "Toby" Daye, rejecting it completely. After getting burned by both sides of her heritage, Toby has denied the fae world, retreating into a "normal" life. Unfortunately for her, Faerie has other ideas.The murder of Countess Evening Winterrose, one of the secret regents of the San Francisco Bay Area, pulls Toby back into the fae world. Unable to resist Evening's dying curse, which binds her to investigate, Toby is forced to resume her old position as knight errant to the Duke of Shadowed Hills and begin renewing old alliances that may prove her only hope of solving the mystery... before the curse catches up with her.

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Rosemary and Rue

"All magic hurts," says October "Toby" Daye, and she'd know better than most.

Rosemary and Rue begins in 1995, when Toby, a half-faerie/half-human P.I., runs afoul of some nasty faeries while trying to solve a kidnapping. Toby is cursed, rendered out of commission for fourteen years, and in the process loses the happy human life she'd been trying to build.

It's been six months since Toby was released from her curse. She wants nothing to do with the fae, but the fae won't let her go that easily. When Countess Evening Winterrose, with whom Toby shared an uneasy friendship, is murdered, she lays a geas on Toby in her final moments: Toby must solve the crime or forfeit her own life. Rosemary and Rue tells the story of Toby's investigation of that murder, and of her reunions (some happy, some not) with the faeries she knew in the past.

My overall impression of Rosemary and Rue is one of pain, both emotional and physical. Seanan McGuire makes our heart ache for Toby in the first few chapters as we learn her history. As for physical pain, this woman gets hurt more often than Devon Monk 's Allie Beckstrom, and that takes some doing.

McGuire has done a great job of world-building. She's done her research about faeries, and it shows. I always like it when an author can successfully make fae culture seem foreign — governed by rules completely unlike our own — rather than just a more glamorous version of human culture. McGuire's take on faerie society and etiquette is reminiscent of Emma Bull 's. The buzz about Rosemary and Rue is that it's a book where "old school" and "new school" urban fantasy meet, and in that respect, the buzz is accurate. I also liked the hints of faerie history and the way McGuire wove her fantasy world into the real geography of San Francisco. There are also a few delightful inventions that are all McGuire's own, like the rose goblins. (I wonder how my dog would get along with a rose goblin...)

I was a little disappointed in the novel as a whole. The problem, I think, is Toby. She's not driving this story. I wanted to see her shake off her inertia and kick some butt or, since she's presented as a "brains" character rather than a "brawn" character, kick some metaphorical butt by doing some great detecting. But while Toby is constantly in trouble, getting shot, etc., she doesn't take the initiative very often. Even the solution to the crime is almost handed to her. Then there's her love life. When Toby sleeps with a real sleazebag of a character, McGuire proves that even a fade-to-black scene can leave an icky taste in the reader's mouth.

That said, I will be reading further in the October Daye series. I really like the world Seanan McGuire portrays here, and I think I could come to love Toby if she sticks to the resolutions she makes at the end of Rosemary and Rue. (And if she realizes that a certain gentleman of the feline persuasion is actually quite enamored of her. Team Tybalt, all the way!) —Kelly Lasiter

Rosemary and Rue

October (Toby) Daye is a changeling — half fae, half human. She’s been living in the mortal world, trying to avoid nasty faerie politics, but she’s suddenly been thrust right back into it when a pure-blood faerie countess is murdered and Toby has to solve the crime before succumbing to a curse.

I don’t read a lot of this type of urban fantasy, so I can’t compare Rosemary and Rue to most of its peers — I can only compare it to what I normally read. Coming from that angle, my opinion is that Rosemary and Rue is a well-written novel with some fine world-building and characterization, but it’s not an excellent novel.

The world-building is quite extensive and heavily based on faerie lore. I loved the way that San Francisco was divided into faerie duchies. This was innovative and interesting and I learned a few things but, unfortunately, it often felt like we were walking the pages of a faerie encyclopedia because there were frequent descriptions and explanations of every imaginable fae creature: selkies, peris, pixies, sprites, redcaps, hobgoblins, etc, etc. This does make October Daye’s world feel real and vibrant and creative, but it was also a lot of information to give us which means less plot and slower pace. This is likely to get better in subsequent novels — once we feel established in October’s world.

I sympathized with October’s situation and found her likable enough, though I didn’t quite understand why other characters thought so highly of her. There’s nothing wrong with October Daye — but she’s not particularly compelling as a heroine. She made a few moves that were supposed to be brave, but I just thought, “Hey! What are you doing? That’s a good way to get yourself in trouble!” And guess what? Yeah, she got in trouble. Trouble is fine, but not when you should have seen it coming.

Toby’s voice is slightly sarcastic — not in a caustic way (thankfully), but in a flippant way. I know this is common with urban fantasy heroines, but it’s just not my type of humor. In fact, I don’t think I laughed or chuckled even once during this novel which means that there was no relief from the tension for me. I’d much prefer to have a grimmer novel that at least had some real humor to give us some bright spots (Joe Abercrombie’s so good at that). This is likely an issue with my own personality and humor preferences.

I also couldn’t relate to Toby’s attachment to Devin, the creepy caretaker of the changeling half-way house. I think this is what disappointed me most about Toby — she really should have been disgusted with him from the beginning, but she was half disgusted and half in love. Yuck. This is probably the main reason I couldn’t embrace Toby — I just couldn’t understand what she was thinking.

I listened to Brilliance Audio’s version which was read by Mary Robinette Kowal. Ms. Kowal did a truly excellent job with Toby — it was perfect. However, I must say that her voices for most of the other characters where cringe-worthy. Her male voices especially were unpleasant and several of the voices that were supposed to sound ethnic were just strange. Ms. Kowal is an accomplished voice performer and her voice for Toby was wonderful, so I’m willing to believe that these strange voices were chosen because of the faerie theme. I wouldn’t hesitate to pick up another audiobook performed by Ms. Kowal, and I certainly plan to try her own novel which releases in a few weeks.

In the end, I think Rosemary and Rue stands up pretty well (probably better in print than audio), but it’s nothing particularly exciting. I do plan to try out the next novel, A Local Habitation, purely because my fellow reviewer Kelly has praised it so highly (below). —Kat Hooper

A Local Habitation

I was a little disappointed in Rosemary and Rue, the first October Daye novel, but I could see tons of potential there and looked forward to the rest of the series. A Local Habitation blows it out of the water, and blows most of the urban fantasy on the shelves out of the water while it’s at it.

In this installment, Duke Sylvester Torquill asks Toby to check up on his niece, January, who hasn’t been returning Sylvester’s calls. Jan is the countess of a small territory that lies between Sylvester’s and that of a rival duchess, and is also the head of a software company. Toby arrives to find a bigger mess than she expected. Someone is murdering Jan’s employees, one by one. Toby’s mission: to solve the crimes without creating a diplomatic incident. This becomes a nail-biting race against time when the major players all get stranded at Jan’s company campus, essentially locked in with the killer.

Toby is stronger here than she was in Rosemary and Rue, more dynamic, and more resourceful. She spends more time focused on the mystery than on her tragic past. I think there are both narrative and character reasons for this. Story-wise, Seanan McGuire doesn’t need to go over the history again because she got that over with in the first book; character-wise, Toby is getting used to being a PI again. When her past does surface, it’s in subtle little touches, like her fear of being submerged in water.

As for the mystery, there’s one aspect that’s really easy for the reader to solve. This drove me crazy as I was reading, but the morning after finishing the book, a few things clicked in my head and it didn’t bother me anymore. Toby has the best excuse in the world to miss that particular type of clue. That, and I suspect McGuire may have tossed that bone to the reader on purpose. It misdirects us from some other things that are going on. It’s a risky move, but it works.

McGuire’s prose is a lot of fun. She infuses her writing with moments of humor and of lyrical beauty, and has a knack for using them at the right times and in the right amounts so that they never take away from the flow or suspense of the narrative. A few of my favorite passages:

• The humans aren’t stupid, no matter what the purebloods say; they’re just blind, and sometimes, that’s worse. They put their fear in stories and songs, where they won’t forget it. “Up the airy mountains and down the rushy glen, I dare not go a-hunting for fear of little men.” We’ve given them plenty of reasons to fear us. Even if they’ve almost forgotten — even if they only remember that we were beautiful and not why they were afraid — the fear was there before anything else. There were reasons for the burning times; there’s a reason the fairy tales survive. And there’s a reason the human world doesn’t want to see the old days come again.
• Repetition is sometimes the best way to deal with the Luideag: just keep saying the same thing over and over until she gets fed up and gives you what you want. All preschoolers have an instinctive grasp of this concept, but most don’t practice it on immortal water demons. That’s probably why there are so few disembowelments in your average preschool.

I also loved the little lit-geek moments: lots of references to Shakespeare, plus a great couple of paragraphs in which McGuire riffs on “La Belle Dame Sans Merci” and “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” in almost the same breath.

The suspense, the world-building, the characterization, and the writing combine to make A Local Habitation a standout. I can’t wait for An Artificial Night; I want more Toby, and definitely more Tybalt!
—Kelly Lasiter

An Artificial Night

October Daye, private investigator to San Francisco’s faerie nobility, stumbles upon her most troubling case yet. Two of her friends’ children vanish without a trace, and a third falls into an enchanted sleep from which no one can awaken her. Toby pokes around and learns that other children have been disappearing as well, both fae and human, and that an ancient and sinister power is behind the kidnappings.

Seanan McGuire wisely plays to her strengths — and Toby’s — in An Artificial Night. McGuire is a terrific writer, but concealing the villain’s identity isn’t always her strong point. It works well, then, that An Artificial Night is not a whodunit. Toby and the reader learn pretty quickly who is responsible, and the real questions are whether Toby can defeat him and how steep the price will be. The first two October Daye novels read like mysteries, but this one reads more like a grim, bloody fairy tale. Of the three it’s the closest to “straight” fantasy or to old-school urban fantasy.

As for Toby’s strengths, one of the things that has bugged me about this series is the way other characters seem convinced Toby is the biggest badass who ever badass’d. She isn’t. She’s actually pretty underpowered for her world and often loses fights. Sheer toughness is not what makes her a hero. An Artificial Night features some great exploration of whether Toby is a hero, and if so, what qualities make her worthy of the term.

McGuire also develops Toby’s relationships with several beloved secondary characters (Tybalt and the Luideag are my favorites). In one moving scene, Toby learns that there really are people out there who have her back. I’m not sure what I love more about this scene, the way it ties into folklore or the way it brings home to Toby that she isn’t alone in the world.

The plot is creepy and compelling, and makes probably the best use of faerie lore we’ve seen yet in the series. The fae realm comes to life in all its beauty, and its horror, and its tricky bargains. I liked A Local Habitation just a bit better personally — I think in part because there was more comic relief — but this is a worthy addition to the series and is almost certainly the best-plotted of the three books so far.

I also had the opportunity to listen to the audiobook version produced by Brilliance Audio. I highly recommend it. Toby needs a very specific kind of voice, and Mary Robinette Kowal provides it. Her voice is low, expressive, with just a touch of ironic humor about it. I don’t think I’d have been able to stomach a chirpy, breezy Toby Daye! —Kelly Lasiter

Late Eclipses

Before I start my review, an aside about the cover art. Chris McGrath has really outdone himself on the cover for Late Eclipses. Wow, that’s gorgeous. It’s also an actual scene from the book, and every element in the scene is important to the story, from her ball gown to her leather jacket to the items she holds.

Moving along to the book, Late Eclipses features a mystery that hits close to home for Toby Daye. Lily, the Lady of the Tea Gardens, falls ill… but it’s supposed to be impossible for Undines to get sick. Then other friends of Toby’s become ill too, and Toby suspects the involvement of an old nemesis of hers, Oleander de Merelands. But no one else has seen or heard from Oleander, and Toby herself has been feeling rather strange lately… could it be that she’s losing her mind?

I love reading the October Daye novels. Seanan McGuire has a wonderful way with words. You never know when a moment of beauty is going to sneak up on you — or a moment of humor:

Every Duchy has something that makes them unique. Golden Gate excels at political intrigue, Wild Strawberries produces amazing chefs, Dreamer's Glass threatens to invade the neighbors, and so on.

The world-building is great, featuring a plethora of fae beings from folklore, and the political intrigue is always interesting. Late Eclipses has the added bonus of new revelations about the nature of Toby’s mother, Amandine, and of Toby herself. Yes, I love these books. Even when they’re flawed.

And, sadly, Late Eclipses is flawed. The problem is Toby. It’s not that I don’t like Toby. I enjoy reading her voice, and I feel for her and want to see her happy. But… she’s just not observant. Which is not good, in a character who is essentially a detective. When she missed a major clue in Rosemary and Rue, I told myself it was because she was blinded by sentiment. When she did it again in A Local Habitation, I excused it because it was tech-related and she’d been a fish during much of the tech boom. This time, it’s just frustrating that, yet again, something jumped out really glaringly at me but didn’t register on Toby’s radar at all. Then there’s the trick to navigating the halls of Shadowed Hills. Toby lived there for years and never noticed, but a teenage boy can live there for a few months and catch on?

It’s also frustrating that, after several scenes of utter awesomeness, Tybalt is randomly absent from the last quarter of the book — and replaced by the bland Connor. I suspect we’re stuck with Connor at center stage for a while, too, as the next book, One Salt Sea, is set in his home realm.

So you’re probably asking me, why am I still giving the book four stars? Well, I enjoyed most of it, and I simply love reading McGuire’s writing style and sinking into her faerie world for a few days. I just wish Toby would become more observant, and that the hinted romance with Tybalt would finally get at least a little bit off the ground. —Kelly Lasiter

One Salt Sea

It’s been a month since the defeat of Oleander de Merelands, since the Duke’s mad daughter Rayseline went on the lam, and since October Daye was brought back from the brink of death and restored to the power level she should have had all along.

This is a lot to deal with, and now there’s a new problem in Faerie. The two sons of a mermaid Duchess have been kidnapped. Unless they can be found, the sea fae will declare war upon those of the land, with disastrous casualties for both sides. If anyone can find the boys before it’s too late, it’s Toby, though it’ll mean facing her fear of the water. In a reversal of the fairy tale “The Little Mermaid,” Toby goes to the sea witch (a.k.a. the Luideag) for a spell that will enable her to survive underwater. She investigates both land and sea in her search for the boys… and then the case takes a turn for the very, very personal.

In One Salt Sea, Seanan McGuire deepens her exploration of most of the major characters. In one of the book’s most haunting scenes, she shows us just how broken Rayseline really is, making me pity her as much as I hated her. Another character, whom I’d found boring, won a bittersweet sort of admiration from me here. We learn more about Toby’s Fetch, May: why she attached herself to Toby in the first place, and why she’s still in existence. We see Toby’s human ex and daughter again. We get tantalizing moments of Tybalt goodness. And Toby herself is compelling as always — maybe even more so than usual, since this case strikes so close to home — and as an added bonus, she’s on the ball this time and there aren’t any moments of wondering why she’s missing the obvious.

One Salt Sea is the best October Daye book to date; everything that’s great about the series comes together in one book. The plot is strong, the characterization is terrific, the tragedies hurt, a few things that were confusing are explained here, and McGuire’s usual beautiful writing and dark humor are present and accounted for. This has become one of my favorite urban fantasy series, and I can’t wait to find out what happens next. —Kelly Lasiter