Second paragrap[h of third chapter:

“Posted to take you to General Dakros, sir,” the man said hoarsely.

My sister gave this to me years ago, and then borrowed it to read herself on her second last visit and returned it on her last visit, so I thought I should return to it as well – also spurred by conversations at a couple of science fiction conventions last year with Emily Tesh, whose Diana Wynne Jones podcast won the 2025 Hugo.

I think it’s the latest published of Jones’ books that I have read, published in 1997, just a year after The Tough Guide to Fantasyland. It entangles a magical dynastic struggle in a parallel world with a science fiction convention in the central England of the 1990s. One of the two protagonists is our Earth’s senior magical guardian, searching for a new junior partner, and arranges for all the potential candidates to attend the convention so that he can vet them, while also trying to resolve the Koryfonic Empire’s problems. Hilarity ensues.

To those of us who know conventions well, there’s a real shock of recognition at the book’s description human side of it; the oddest thing is realising how much of the old organisational technology which depended on surface mail has disappeared with the electronic age. But the portrayal of a big name writer guest of honour who is a nightmare to manage at the convention – I suspect that will never go out of date.

And Jones moves the plot very deftly. We think we know what is going to happen from an early stage, but she pulls off some impressive (and entirely fair) twists at the end. We know what is happening to whom, and why, despite the number of balls being juggled. It’s not especially an adult themed book, but I think the humour will appeal more to grown-ups than to younger readers. Definitely a happy return visit for me.

You can get Deep Secret here.

Second paragraph of third chapter:

“It’s the way things are in this town,” Milda explained. “There’s hundreds of poor women willing to work their fingers into blisters. And the rich people have to have their curtains ready on time.”

I had not previously read this novel, the second in both publication and internal chronology order of DWJ’s Dalemark Quartet. It’s really very good. We’re in the time before Cart and Cwidder when the tyrannical and brutal earls of the South are fomenting social discontent and revolutionary action. As is usual with this writer, she tells the story of a fermenting society with magical underpinnings through three children, one of them the abandoned son of a radical activitst and the other two being grandchildren of the ruling Earl; they end up together in a quest narrative on a small boat escaping from the South to the North, where tangled personal politics and primal mythical forces await them.

A key part of the book is the role played by the demigods Old Ammet and Libby Beer, who start as historical figures in a poorly understood but faithfully executed annual ceremony, and end as enforcers of order and social justice when correctly invoked. A lot of Diana Wynne Jones’ books involve a journey to achieve enlightenment by the protagonists, and I think it’s really well realised here.

I’m going on to re-read The Crown of Dalemark, to see if I get more out of it after reading the previous three books, but I think Drowned Ammet stands very well on its own. You can get it here.

Second paragraph of third chapter:

“The floor’s all wet,” he said.

Having enjoyed my return to Cart and Cwidder last year, I thought I should read the complete Dalemark cycle by Diana Wynne Jones. The Spellcoats was new to me; although the third published of the series, it’s the first in internal chronology, set in “prehistoric Dalemark” where the only written language is runes woven into garments – hence the “spellcoats” of the title.

It’s a different sort of society to most of DWJ’s books – a low-tech country coming into being, with indigenous inhabitants in conflict with newcomers, and evil men trying to take advantage of the situation, including through magic. Like a lot of DWJ’s stories, there is a long and transformational journey; like a lot of DWJ’s stories, there are siblings who have different talents and find different destinies. But there’s something attractively raw and pared-back about the setting here, along the banks of a primeval river, and there is a nice framework of telling the story as a woven rather than written text. Sorry it took me so long to get around to reading this. You can get it here.

This was the top unread book by a woman on my shelves. Next on that pile is The Good Earth, by Pearl S. Buck, but I’m also adding a small pile for the other two Dalemark books, Drowned Ammet and The Crown of Dalemark.

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Kialan, in spite of Clennen’s rebuke, seemed unable to stop making outspoken remarks. “You know, that cart is really horribly garish,” he said, on the second morning. Perhaps he had some excuse. It was standing against the dawn sky, as he saw it, and Moril’s red head was just emerging from it. The effect was undeniably colorful, but Brid was keenly offended.

I had read this ages ago, probably soon after it came out in 1975. It’s the first published of one of Diana Wynne Jones’ cycles of novels for young adult readers, the Dalemark Quartet. Our protagonist, teenage Moril, is the youngest boy in a family of travelling musicians and players in a fantasy world where there is magic, dynastic politics, and feuds between local warlords. His life is disrupted by a brutal murder in an early chapter, but this brings him an ancient cwidder – a musical instrument which seems to be in the lute family – which turns out to have its own special powers. There are some beautifully observed family and social dynamics, and some rather stunning descriptive passages. I’m not sure if this book is as well known as it deserves. You can get it here.

This was my top unread sf book, and my top unread book by a woman. Next on the first of those piles is Our Share of Night, by Mariana Enriquez; next on the second is Marking Time, by Elizabeth Jane Howard.