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Jan. 24th, 2013 03:33 pmIt's always really hard to review Frances Hardinge books because there are always twenty things going on in them at once and all of them are REALLY GOOD. But here I am, attempting to give A Face Like Glass a go anyway.
This particular exercise of Frances Hardinge's bizarrely delightful brain takes place in an underground cavern of a city that runs on craftsmanship - impossibly gourmet wines and cheese and perfumes that can make you lose memories or experience visions or alter your emotions.
Our heroine is an apprentice cheesemaker named Neverfell, a friendly, trusting little girl with severe ADD, no memories of her life before the age of five, and a face that shows everything she's thinking (which is generally a lot of things in a very short span, because did I mention the severe ADD?)
This is unfortunate for Neverfell, because in Caverna, babies don't learn how to make facial expressions from their parents - so everyone's facial expressions are carefully crafted by artisans and equally carefully chosen to suit any given occasion. Except the drudges, of course; they only learn about three expressions, mostly indicating polite subservience, because why would they need any more? Either way, nobody's face just shows what they're actually thinking! THAT WOULD BE RIDICULOUS. (And, of course, unsafe.)
Neverfell just wants to make friends and see something of the city! Finding out some secrets of her own past would be nice, too. But to the rest of the courtiers of Caverna, she's either an intriguing novelty or a terrifying freak of nature or -- most dangerous of all -- an invaluable tool in their long-range plans.
What the people manipulating her have in mind is a transfer of power. Add in a ruler who has literally split his brain in two, a master thief with a plan so complex that he's even keeping secrets from himself, a court-trained girl who might turn out to be Neverfell's best friend, an underclass who are ready to finally learn how to make the expression that signifies "anger," and Neverfell's discovery of her own agency and abilities, and what they might get is something like a revolution.
Or, for a shorter summary: it's Frances Hardinge, so you already know it's really good, and it's basically fantasy of manners on LSD, and it's funny and creepy and biting and heartbreaking, and there is literally a scene in which Neverfell is repeatedly forced to choose between cake and death. And it works. SO THERE YOU GO.
This particular exercise of Frances Hardinge's bizarrely delightful brain takes place in an underground cavern of a city that runs on craftsmanship - impossibly gourmet wines and cheese and perfumes that can make you lose memories or experience visions or alter your emotions.
Our heroine is an apprentice cheesemaker named Neverfell, a friendly, trusting little girl with severe ADD, no memories of her life before the age of five, and a face that shows everything she's thinking (which is generally a lot of things in a very short span, because did I mention the severe ADD?)
This is unfortunate for Neverfell, because in Caverna, babies don't learn how to make facial expressions from their parents - so everyone's facial expressions are carefully crafted by artisans and equally carefully chosen to suit any given occasion. Except the drudges, of course; they only learn about three expressions, mostly indicating polite subservience, because why would they need any more? Either way, nobody's face just shows what they're actually thinking! THAT WOULD BE RIDICULOUS. (And, of course, unsafe.)
Neverfell just wants to make friends and see something of the city! Finding out some secrets of her own past would be nice, too. But to the rest of the courtiers of Caverna, she's either an intriguing novelty or a terrifying freak of nature or -- most dangerous of all -- an invaluable tool in their long-range plans.
What the people manipulating her have in mind is a transfer of power. Add in a ruler who has literally split his brain in two, a master thief with a plan so complex that he's even keeping secrets from himself, a court-trained girl who might turn out to be Neverfell's best friend, an underclass who are ready to finally learn how to make the expression that signifies "anger," and Neverfell's discovery of her own agency and abilities, and what they might get is something like a revolution.
Or, for a shorter summary: it's Frances Hardinge, so you already know it's really good, and it's basically fantasy of manners on LSD, and it's funny and creepy and biting and heartbreaking, and there is literally a scene in which Neverfell is repeatedly forced to choose between cake and death. And it works. SO THERE YOU GO.
