My high school history teacher, Miss Lavoie, once mentioned to the class that she was thinking of writing a paper on some topic we were discussing. This led to a long, confused discussion about why an adult--anyone, really--would write a paper that wasn't required for a grade.
Suddenly I understand it. There is so much going on in
Lifelode
, by Jo Walton, that I'm not even sure I could list it all, let alone expound on it.
Let's start with the most obvious, interesting, easy to talk about fact of this book: its relationship with time. The whole book is told in the present tense--but the timeline jumps around.
Every scene is in present tense, including flashbacks, memories within scenes, everything. There are a very few words in the past tense within the book outside of dialog. When it does appear, it's invariably referring to something that happened a moment ago in the same scene, not an earlier moment in time.
An example: Hanethe is helping with the harvest and thinking about how much she dislikes the job and always has.
She remembers, as she thrusts a gathered sheaf into the hands of the youngster behind, the harvest after the plague. Young Hanethe cuts and cuts, her legs trembling at every step, not daring to shut her aching eyes for a minute in case she falls asleep in the field.
The narrative also skips around in time, not only from a distant future where several characters are discussing whether to write a book about the main events of the story, but laying down scenes out of order, introducing the character who arrived second, then later the one who arrived first, then later still showing the arrival scene of the second. We learn about the night the alarm was sounded and everyone armed themselves, and then we see the characters putting away their weapons. Several tranquil, domestic scenes later we learn what happened on the wall that night.
And the thing is, it's not awkward. So far, I'm pretty sure I haven't been confused once. I've been curious, yes, and really wanted to know what was going on, but not confused at all.
Another element of this relationship with time is that the main character, Taveth, can see through time a bit. When she's talking to someone, she sees shadows of their older and younger selves, who they have been and who they will be. She gets hints from these people of what might happen, though only slight--she doesn't converse with these shadows.
Even the reality of this world has a complicated relationship with time. Days pass differently depending on where you are geographically, and depending on which direction you travel in, the year you're gone might pass at home as a month or a decade.
It's confusing just to write about, right? Look how long this blog post is! But the thing is, it's seamless. I've read more confusing world building in nonfiction books, I kid you not. It's a smooth, seamless read, and the hints and indications you get out of order build the story in exactly the right way. It's a domestic fantasy, for the most part, about the relationships of the people at Applekirk and how a moment of crisis--one moment, as we clearly understand, no more nor less telling than any other moment in the centuries of this village--touches all those relationships.
This post is already huge, and I haven't even touched on the range and depth of the meanings of love that are addressed here (brief rundown: spouses, permanent pairings called sweetmates, casual lovers, the desire to hold onto your children, the rush of unexpected sexual desire, the affection you feel for an incredibly irritating 14 year old--especially when he was a sweet kid, and double especially when you can sort of see through time and know that he's going to be a good man when he grows up). Again, I'm pretty sure I'm not being hit over the head with it (though sometimes I miss it when books do try to bludgeon you, so corrections appreciated)--it's just there, as natural as breathing--this is a world in which all these loves exist, and here is how they work.
And of course the other topic I wanted to cover, which is Jo Walton's work in general and how you MUST read
Ha'Penny
and
Tooth and Claw
, and
I must read
The King's Peace
and
Among Others
as soon as possible.
Lifelode is deceptively simple, domestic, and not earth-shattering. But as my sister is fond of saying about her nephew: it's freaky smart.
I'm surprised by how much I like Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe novels. 
was the first), and both of them have been so much fun. I don't know why I had any doubt, since Kris has never steered me wrong, but somehow mysteries usually aren't on my radar, so I don't assume I'm going to enjoy them.
is around here somewhere; I loved Clarke's book of stories set in the same world. I picked up a book by Brandon Sanderson, because 
, I think it's called. So really, on this list of ten books, only three are not in some way present in my house and waiting eagerly for my attention. There are only three books here whose representatives I don't own. This strokes my ego, proving that I have Good Taste In Literature, Or At Least In Novels.
, Jonathan Strange, 
, 
, 
, even 
--are godawful long. We're talking a couple inches thick, minimum. Wise Man's Fear is also printed on thin, heavy paper, and weighs twice what you expect just looking at it.