Among Others is all about a Welsh girl called Mori who has come to live with her father and his sisters after the death of her twin sister, Mor, and some unexplained nastiness with their mother. Mori can see fairies and work magic, and she is an avid reader; and, if you’re wondering, she’s #teammiddleearth. (I am and shall always be #teamnarnia.) Physically and mentally scarred by the events that killed her sister, Mori struggles to find a community in her new, strange surroundings.

Well, folks, it’s official. I never don’t want to read books about geeky British teenagers from the 1960s and 1970s and their emergent love for speculative fiction and the world of fandom. I thought this was the case after Suzy, Led Zeppelin, and Me, and I was confirmed in my opinion after that Dungeons and Dragons memoir, even as it made me writhe for the author, but now it’s three books (not to speak of interviews I have read of geeky authors who grew up in Britain in the 1960s and 1970s) and I am positive. It’s touching to read about these kids who feel terribly isolated and different, and who find these small windows into a world where people are like them and love the same things they love. Poor things, if only they had grown up a few decades later, in this generation of the geek fairly decisively inheriting the earth.

Jo Walton does something marvelous with the magic in Among Others, which is to make it invisible and give her characters, and her readers, absolute deniability. If you choose to read the book as a story where a girl finds magical explanations for her mentally ill mother, her isolation in her new home, and the loss of her sister, you could read it that way. Or you could choose to believe Mori, that her mother is a witch and she sees fairies and when she does magic, the universe rearranges itself very slightly. The book wants you to believe in magic, but it doesn’t demand that you do. It’s not something I’ve seen very often in fantasy fiction, and Walton carries it off brilliantly.

Altogether I cannot tell you what my final response was to this book. There were times when I capital-L loved it, and wanted to buy copies for everyone I knew. I am sort of in that headspace now that I have to return the book to the library. I want to read it again instead of returning it to the library, but the library demands to have it back. A big part of what makes this book interesting is Mori’s growing self-awareness, the way she finds a way to move past the tragedies in her past and become who she’s going to be without her sister. In an excellent passage, also quoted by the lovely Nymeth but I’m sure it would have stuck out to me anyway, Mori says (er, so, spoilers for Lord of the Rings ahead):

Tolkien understood about the things that happen after the end. Because this is after the end, this is all the Scouring of the Shire, this is figuring out how to live in the time that wasn’t supposed to happen after the glorious last stand. I saved the world, or I think I did, and look, the world is still here, with sunsets and interlibrary loans.

That’s exactly what the book is. Also, I was right, no? She’s #teammiddleearth.

However, there were also times when I thought that certain plot points (mainly Mori’s guilt about magic) were being belabored unnecessarily. I was bothered by the way Mori, like so many bookish protagonists, often seemed to feel that the only worthwhile people were people who read a lot of books and valued her for her reading. I feel bad for complaining about that, because as I say, her self-awareness was an exceptionally good part of this book.

I recognize that finding things to define against is massively important when you’re a teenager becoming who you’re going to be. I might even go so far as to say it’s more important than finding things to define with, but of course I don’t know anything about adolescent psychological development. That said, I would have liked to see more hints from the author that she knew, even if Mori didn’t, that shared reading taste is not the only measure of value in new people.

On the other hand, my heart sang at some of Mori’s reading choices, most particularly Mary Renault’s lesser-known modern fiction. Any book in which the protagonist name-checks The Charioteer is a book that I shall not find it in my heart to condemn. (I say that now. Watch someone tell me that Cormac McCarthy’s characters are all tremendous Mary Renault fans, and then I’ll have to eat my words.) (Actually, that would make me more willing to give Cormac McCarthy a try, though not necessarily all the way willing.) And altogether, if I had bought this book instead of getting it from the library, I would not have felt my money had been wasted, and I would look forward to reading it again in years to come when I would catch more of the science fiction references.

People who also read it:

things mean a lot
Necromancy Never Pays
Stainless Steel Droppings

More? Surely? Am I just blind?

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