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Oct. 15th, 2016 09:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skygiantsAs previously mentioned, I have been rereading Barbara Hambly's Benjamin January books. I have not yet quite reached the point where I run out of 'reread' and just hit 'read' -- there were nine published books when I first read the series in 2010, and now there are fourteen -- but I am halfway through, so it's probably a decent time to stop and take stock.
For the unfamiliar, the titular Benjamin January is a free black pianist/music teacher/surgeon who also finds himself frequently fighting crime in 1830s New Orleans. In the long-form hypothetical HBO television series of my heart, he is played by a slightly-older Okierete Onaodawan, who has proven through his pitch-perfect rendition of both Hercules Mulligan and James Madison that he can do all the instantaneous code-switching that Benjamin January requires to survive and walk the lines between the world of the wealthy free colored inhabited by his mother and sister, and the slave quarters where he is frequently required to go undercover for crime-fighting purposes.
...and it looks like I outlined the other major characters on here back in 2010, so I'm just going to link to that instead of doing it all again.
Books I have reread to date include:
A Free Man of Color, in which Benjamin January comes home as a grieving widower after many years away in Paris and is like "oh shit not that Paris wasn't racist but I FORGOT New Orleans was really racist D: D: D:" An excellent place to start and includes my favorite side romance in the series (featuring, to this date of my reading, the only happy and sympathetic explicitly queer characters in the series so far iirc); my giant crush on Augustus Mayerling is undimmed from when it first blossomed in 2009.
Fever Season, in which Historical Cameo from Delphine LaLaurie, and which contains a terrible plague AND a kidnapping conspiracy AND the introduction of series love interest Rose Vitrac AND the introduction of the series' very first secret agony attic. (Barbara Hambly is very enthusiastic about the number of secret agony attics in 1830s New Orleans.) I think I have realized why I was so ambivalent about Rose in 2009, by the way; due to combination of the name and the bluestocking sensibilities, my brain keeps jumping from Rose Vitrac to the character of Rose in Mercedes Lackey's The Fire Rose, which is a SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE BOOK than any of the Benjamin January novels. The Fire Rose is not Barbara Hambly's fault and therefore I like Rose better now (and more as the series goes on), though I still find her a little custom-designed for the assumed twenty-first century reader to identify with.
Graveyard Dust, in which Ben's sister, voodooiene Olympe, is accused of voodoo murder. Contains secret New Orleans agony attic #2, an interesting and as far as I can tell fairly respectful portrayal of voodoo in the 1830s, and some fairly weird handling of child sexual abuse about which I found myself making a few dubious faces.
Sold Down the River, in which Ben goes undercover as a slave to discover the saboteur on a plantation belonging to the terrible old man who used to own him and his mother. Both Ben and the reader are aware that this is an INHERENTLY TERRIBLE IDEA, which makes this a very tense book! Probably one of the best in the series (and also features my favorite murderer in the series.)
Die Upon a Kiss, in which Phantom of the Opera homage! Obviously, I love this book. It's as over-the-top as Fever Season and features about twelve different plots going kabloom up against each other (plagiarists! smugglers! scorned opera singers! angry Italian nationalists! AN EXPLODING FAKE VOLCANO!) I can't even remember now why half the murders or attempted murders were committed and I don't even care.
Wet Grave, in which Historical Cameo from Jean Lafitte, and in which there is a slave rebellion AND a typhoon AND a hunt for secret pirate treasure all happening at once. Contains secret New Orleans agony attic #3 and also contains an extraordinary amount of excellence from Ben's other sister Dominique, the sweet fluttery gossipy wealthy man's mistress, who spends much of this book tromping heroically through a swamp while hugely pregnant and then going 'what, like it's hard?' when anyone questions her fortitude. Dominique is my favorite, so I'm very fond of this one.
Days of the Dead, in which Historical Cameo from Santa Anna, not to mention a straight plunge into Gothic, imprisoned nuns and dead wives in the secret agony attic (or in this case the secret agony cave) and ghostly whispers and all. There's even a shout-out to The Monk. Barbara Hambly's portrayal of 1830s Mexico reads to me as significantly more exaggerated/exoticized than her portrayal of 1830s New Orleans (and, again, I could happily go another decade without reading another book in which THE HUMAN SACRIFICE OF THE AZTECS!!!!!!! featured as a major plot device.) On the other hand, the murder method is ingenious enough that this is quite literally the only book out of the nine I read in 2009 for which I remembered who the murderer actually was. This was actually fairly surprising to me. I expected to at least remember the broad outlines of some of the plots! BUT NOPE.
In fact, I just tried to remember who the murderer actually was in A Free Man of Color, and once again I have forgotten it entirely. Don't read these books for the murders, I guess. Do, however, read them for the detailed, in-depth historical world-building (for the most part); the complexity and care with which Barbara Hambly builds her side characters, all of whom contain a number of wonderful inherent human contradictions, and almost any one of whom could fill a whole novel to themselves; and, if you like, the plots that are only getting more gonzo as the series comes along. I had really forgotten how delightfully over-the-top they start to get once Barbara Hambly starts to run out of plausible reasons for the main cast to be accused of murder in New Orleans. SECRET PIRATE TREASURE!!!!
For the unfamiliar, the titular Benjamin January is a free black pianist/music teacher/surgeon who also finds himself frequently fighting crime in 1830s New Orleans. In the long-form hypothetical HBO television series of my heart, he is played by a slightly-older Okierete Onaodawan, who has proven through his pitch-perfect rendition of both Hercules Mulligan and James Madison that he can do all the instantaneous code-switching that Benjamin January requires to survive and walk the lines between the world of the wealthy free colored inhabited by his mother and sister, and the slave quarters where he is frequently required to go undercover for crime-fighting purposes.
...and it looks like I outlined the other major characters on here back in 2010, so I'm just going to link to that instead of doing it all again.
Books I have reread to date include:
A Free Man of Color, in which Benjamin January comes home as a grieving widower after many years away in Paris and is like "oh shit not that Paris wasn't racist but I FORGOT New Orleans was really racist D: D: D:" An excellent place to start and includes my favorite side romance in the series (featuring, to this date of my reading, the only happy and sympathetic explicitly queer characters in the series so far iirc); my giant crush on Augustus Mayerling is undimmed from when it first blossomed in 2009.
Fever Season, in which Historical Cameo from Delphine LaLaurie, and which contains a terrible plague AND a kidnapping conspiracy AND the introduction of series love interest Rose Vitrac AND the introduction of the series' very first secret agony attic. (Barbara Hambly is very enthusiastic about the number of secret agony attics in 1830s New Orleans.) I think I have realized why I was so ambivalent about Rose in 2009, by the way; due to combination of the name and the bluestocking sensibilities, my brain keeps jumping from Rose Vitrac to the character of Rose in Mercedes Lackey's The Fire Rose, which is a SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE BOOK than any of the Benjamin January novels. The Fire Rose is not Barbara Hambly's fault and therefore I like Rose better now (and more as the series goes on), though I still find her a little custom-designed for the assumed twenty-first century reader to identify with.
Graveyard Dust, in which Ben's sister, voodooiene Olympe, is accused of voodoo murder. Contains secret New Orleans agony attic #2, an interesting and as far as I can tell fairly respectful portrayal of voodoo in the 1830s, and some fairly weird handling of child sexual abuse about which I found myself making a few dubious faces.
Sold Down the River, in which Ben goes undercover as a slave to discover the saboteur on a plantation belonging to the terrible old man who used to own him and his mother. Both Ben and the reader are aware that this is an INHERENTLY TERRIBLE IDEA, which makes this a very tense book! Probably one of the best in the series (and also features my favorite murderer in the series.)
Die Upon a Kiss, in which Phantom of the Opera homage! Obviously, I love this book. It's as over-the-top as Fever Season and features about twelve different plots going kabloom up against each other (plagiarists! smugglers! scorned opera singers! angry Italian nationalists! AN EXPLODING FAKE VOLCANO!) I can't even remember now why half the murders or attempted murders were committed and I don't even care.
Wet Grave, in which Historical Cameo from Jean Lafitte, and in which there is a slave rebellion AND a typhoon AND a hunt for secret pirate treasure all happening at once. Contains secret New Orleans agony attic #3 and also contains an extraordinary amount of excellence from Ben's other sister Dominique, the sweet fluttery gossipy wealthy man's mistress, who spends much of this book tromping heroically through a swamp while hugely pregnant and then going 'what, like it's hard?' when anyone questions her fortitude. Dominique is my favorite, so I'm very fond of this one.
Days of the Dead, in which Historical Cameo from Santa Anna, not to mention a straight plunge into Gothic, imprisoned nuns and dead wives in the secret agony attic (or in this case the secret agony cave) and ghostly whispers and all. There's even a shout-out to The Monk. Barbara Hambly's portrayal of 1830s Mexico reads to me as significantly more exaggerated/exoticized than her portrayal of 1830s New Orleans (and, again, I could happily go another decade without reading another book in which THE HUMAN SACRIFICE OF THE AZTECS!!!!!!! featured as a major plot device.) On the other hand, the murder method is ingenious enough that this is quite literally the only book out of the nine I read in 2009 for which I remembered who the murderer actually was. This was actually fairly surprising to me. I expected to at least remember the broad outlines of some of the plots! BUT NOPE.
In fact, I just tried to remember who the murderer actually was in A Free Man of Color, and once again I have forgotten it entirely. Don't read these books for the murders, I guess. Do, however, read them for the detailed, in-depth historical world-building (for the most part); the complexity and care with which Barbara Hambly builds her side characters, all of whom contain a number of wonderful inherent human contradictions, and almost any one of whom could fill a whole novel to themselves; and, if you like, the plots that are only getting more gonzo as the series comes along. I had really forgotten how delightfully over-the-top they start to get once Barbara Hambly starts to run out of plausible reasons for the main cast to be accused of murder in New Orleans. SECRET PIRATE TREASURE!!!!
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Date: 2016-10-21 05:12 am (UTC)Yeah, I mean, I guess it's ... probably less offensive to have all the AZTEC SACRIFICE!!!!! stuff be coming from a dude who has no actual connection to the original religion/culture and has just appropriated it for his own weird issues, but usually I feel like Hambly would balance that out with a number of other layered perspectives, and here she doesn't really; our main lenses on Mexico are a.) the Gothic weirdness of that whole Spanish family, and b.) that entertainingly judgy but really quite distant take on Santa Anna.