There are books that begin to make me sad as I go on, because the book gets thinner and thinner on one side (or the damn % goes up on the Kindle) and I know I will be having to leave that world and those people soon.
Hild was one of those books. It was not just the fact that I finally felt represented in a historical novel — something that is not to be underestimated. It was not just the fact that the historical details were fascinating to the extreme, especially the religious, outlook, and domestic details. It was not just the fact that I absolutely ADORED Hild, as a person, and her brother and her cronies and her people and her land. I guess it was all of those things. But more: I was utterly immersed in the world. I was growing as Hild was. I was helpless yet powerful, strong yet frightened, friend to all peoples but friend of no person.
Oh, I’m doing a terrible job of explaining. I just didn’t want it to end.
How far along are you on the next one, Nicola Griffith? Is it done yet?
How about now?
PS if you haven’t yet I think you should buy it:
And here are some interesting things about it from other people in far more in-depth language and from far more interesting angles:
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