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The City of Silk and Steel
Once, in a city known as Bessa, there was a sultan named Bokhari Al-Bokhari, who was thrown down by the zealots of the ascetic Hakkim Mehdad. The sultan, his wives and children were put to the sword, while his 365 concubines were sent to a neighbouring caliph as tribute, Hakkim having no use for the pleasures of the flesh.
But a day after the caravan had departed from Bessa, Hakkim discovered the terrible secret that the concubines had hidden from him.His reaction was swift and cruel.
Kill the women of the harem forthwith, along with their children and maidservants. Let not one survive. Their bodies let the desert claim, and their names be fed to silence.
This, then, is the tale - or tales - of how a remarkable group of women fight together to survive both the fury of Hakkim and the rigours of the desert. It is the tale of Zuleika, whose hidden past holds the key to their future, and of Rem, the librarian whose tears are ink. Of the wise Gursoon, who defines the group's conscience, and of the silver-tongued thief, Anwar Das, who knows when to ignore that conscience.
This is the tale of the forging of a rabble of concubines, children, camel-herds and thieves into an army of silk and steel. It is the tale of the redemption and rise of Bessa, fabled City of Women. And it is the tale of an act of kindness that carries the seed of death, and will return to bring darkness and the end of a dream . . .
But a day after the caravan had departed from Bessa, Hakkim discovered the terrible secret that the concubines had hidden from him.His reaction was swift and cruel.
Kill the women of the harem forthwith, along with their children and maidservants. Let not one survive. Their bodies let the desert claim, and their names be fed to silence.
This, then, is the tale - or tales - of how a remarkable group of women fight together to survive both the fury of Hakkim and the rigours of the desert. It is the tale of Zuleika, whose hidden past holds the key to their future, and of Rem, the librarian whose tears are ink. Of the wise Gursoon, who defines the group's conscience, and of the silver-tongued thief, Anwar Das, who knows when to ignore that conscience.
This is the tale of the forging of a rabble of concubines, children, camel-herds and thieves into an army of silk and steel. It is the tale of the redemption and rise of Bessa, fabled City of Women. And it is the tale of an act of kindness that carries the seed of death, and will return to bring darkness and the end of a dream . . .
544 pages, Paperback
First published March 15, 2012
51 people are currently reading
2599 people want to read
About the author
Mike Carey
1,261 books2,967 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
Mike Carey was born in Liverpool in 1959. He worked as a teacher for fifteen years, before starting to write comics. When he started to receive regular commissions from DC Comics, he gave up the day job.
Since then, he has worked for both DC and Marvel Comics, writing storylines for some of the world's most iconic characters, including X-MEN, FANTASTIC FOUR, LUCIFER and HELLBLAZER. His original screenplay FROST FLOWERS is currently being filmed. Mike has also adapted Neil Gaiman's acclaimed NEVERWHERE into comics.
Somehow, Mike finds time amongst all of this to live with his wife and children in North London. You can read his blog at www.mikecarey.net.
Mike Carey was born in Liverpool in 1959. He worked as a teacher for fifteen years, before starting to write comics. When he started to receive regular commissions from DC Comics, he gave up the day job.
Since then, he has worked for both DC and Marvel Comics, writing storylines for some of the world's most iconic characters, including X-MEN, FANTASTIC FOUR, LUCIFER and HELLBLAZER. His original screenplay FROST FLOWERS is currently being filmed. Mike has also adapted Neil Gaiman's acclaimed NEVERWHERE into comics.
Somehow, Mike finds time amongst all of this to live with his wife and children in North London. You can read his blog at www.mikecarey.net.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 192 reviews
January 3, 2023
This book has an interesting concept, and at times I enjoyed it—while at other times, I considered abandoning it altogether. Unfortunately, the list of things I wish the authors had known more about is long:
- The meanings of Middle Eastern words and concepts used, and the Orientalist stereotypes the book thoughtlessly indulges (more on this below)
- Women (though supposedly co-authored by one man and two women, there’s clearly a reason his name comes first and it isn’t just marketing, or patriarchy. The male gaze is strong—more on this one too)
- Wounds and the human body (pro tip: if someone is stabbed in the abdomen to the depth of 1-2 inches, that is not a “light wound,” they will now die a painful death, the only question is how slowly. It’s very confusing and frustrating to read fight scenes where you and the authors have no common understanding of the meaning of anything that’s happening)
- Weapons (when even I notice that the authors haven’t figured out that bows are different from guns, we have a problem)
- Economics (I’m not sure filling this plot hole would’ve helped as the plot rather depends on it, but no, you aren’t going to hire a giant mercenary army to travel halfway across the world on a mere promise of payment... if they win... and if there’s still anything left to loot... and if you who are hiring them because you want to rule the place you’re attacking are still okay with them taking all its wealth... it’s always funny when a fantasy book neatly functions as an example of why things don’t work as portrayed in the book. The world’s most credulous mercenaries of course do not get paid)
- Humans in general (the coup de grace—there are just so many character moments that jarringly did not work)
The idea behind the book is that—at some time in our world’s ancient past, in some Middle Eastern-flavored place—a city-state is conquered by fanatics, who drive the 365 concubines of the murdered ruler’s seraglio out into the desert. But the concubines take matters into their own hands, forge a strong community and ultimately take back their city, where they found a short-lived paradise. (No spoilers; that’s all in the opening.) The book has a narrator—the scholar Rem, who can see the future—but it’s mostly told in the third person with an ensemble cast, dipping into the stories of many people in and around the group.
On the positive side, it is engaging enough that I finished, though there were times around the halfway point when I considered quitting. The authors try out different styles and follow different characters and that can be fun. The prose isn’t bad and there are character moments that work, with sections that are compelling and some room for minor characters to grow.
Unfortunately, in my mind that’s ultimately outweighed by the problems. The book goes on too long, and never earns the pathos it’s shooting for with its tragic end. For a story sold as being about a community of women coming together and discovering their power, an awful lot of time is spent on men: while it is an ensemble cast, there’s roughly five main characters, and of them two are male; one woman was never part of the seraglio; and another was only nominally part of it (she’s actually an embedded assassin); leaving only one concubine (the leader) who gets much development, when I expected the whole book to be about this group.
There’s also some serious male gaze going on, in a focus on physical appearances and a portrayal of a lesbian romance that seems entirely based on physical attraction. And the book completely blows off the women’s experience of being sold to the former ruler and forced to have sex with him: sure, humans are adaptable and in a culture where this is normal and he’s not interpersonally brutal, I can believe that many would have made their peace with it. I don’t believe that there are 365 of them and none found it traumatic.
Beyond that, there’s an unusually high number of character moments that just felt badly off to me. There’s the one where the assassin, as a 14-year-old who has orchestrated her abusive father’s arrest, calmly eats an apple while watching his execution. (After this it took me the whole book to decide whether the authors meant her to be a sociopath. Answer: no, but you see why I thought so! Also, do apples even grow in the desert?) There’s the one where the scholar attempts to defend a beloved library by confronting enemy soldiers... with a stylus... while naked. (I just don’t see what she’s trying to achieve here, and this is not someone who makes use of or even seems comfortable with her own physicality—I can’t imagine her voluntarily stripping naked before men who mean her harm.) There’s the moment where an older woman who has led her people to victory is reunited with the love of her life, and they celebrate by her dancing for him in a public place. (This just felt wrong—that sort of reunion calls for some mutual activity rather than one with a performer and a passive audience, or if someone must perform, it should be him!) There’s the way that the ending tries to convince us that are blissfully happy because they’re together, even though they’ve both lost their purpose and calling—granted I’ve seen this in novels before, but nope, not buying.
Finally, this book is such an embodiment of British Orientalism that its 2012 publication date is startling. The authors throw around words that I guess sound vaguely Middle Eastern to them while clearly ignorant of their meanings. “Janissary” for instance is not a fancy synonym for “soldier”; it refers specifically to the slave corps of the Ottoman Empire, taken from their provinces as young boys. Bafflingly, these authors apply it at random to voluntary troops defending their own city. “Caliph,” meanwhile, is not just a generic term for a particularly important king: it’s the title for the successor of the Prophet Mohammed and leader of the global Muslim community. These authors use it for a ruler with no religious role, just an especially rich city—made weirder by the fact that this is not a secondary world but nominally set in ours, long before the coming of Islam.
Despite that, the book is really all about Islam, with the bad guys representing fundamentalists in a way that feels almost ripped from the headlines. And sure, lots of fantasy is, but British authors writing cluelessly about the Middle East is a particularly unfortunate look. The book features major Orientalist stereotypes as well: take this 10 wives, 365 concubines business. Western countries have a longstanding stereotype of giant harems filled with women sexually available to the ruler, but in reality, that’s far from true. The Mughals’ imperial zenana for instance housed not only the emperor’s wives, but all sorts of female relations—sisters, daughters, aunts, great-aunts, stepmothers (lots of polygamy adds up fast)—plus the widows of officials and anyone else who could make a claim to the emperor’s financial support. This is how, before becoming Jahangir’s 20th wife, Nur Jahan actually already lived in his zenana—she met him well after moving in! The idea that a large women’s quarters meant astronomical numbers of sexual partners says more about fevered western imaginations than reality, and these authors blithely reproduce the stereotype despite the fact that the country in question is tiny.
If you like the idea of a community of previously disenfranchised women coming together to take back their city, let me recommend The Ladies of Mandrigyn instead—despite being much older, it holds up better and is a lot of fun. But this book I can’t recommend.
- The meanings of Middle Eastern words and concepts used, and the Orientalist stereotypes the book thoughtlessly indulges (more on this below)
- Women (though supposedly co-authored by one man and two women, there’s clearly a reason his name comes first and it isn’t just marketing, or patriarchy. The male gaze is strong—more on this one too)
- Wounds and the human body (pro tip: if someone is stabbed in the abdomen to the depth of 1-2 inches, that is not a “light wound,” they will now die a painful death, the only question is how slowly. It’s very confusing and frustrating to read fight scenes where you and the authors have no common understanding of the meaning of anything that’s happening)
- Weapons (when even I notice that the authors haven’t figured out that bows are different from guns, we have a problem)
- Economics (I’m not sure filling this plot hole would’ve helped as the plot rather depends on it, but no, you aren’t going to hire a giant mercenary army to travel halfway across the world on a mere promise of payment... if they win... and if there’s still anything left to loot... and if you who are hiring them because you want to rule the place you’re attacking are still okay with them taking all its wealth... it’s always funny when a fantasy book neatly functions as an example of why things don’t work as portrayed in the book. The world’s most credulous mercenaries of course do not get paid)
- Humans in general (the coup de grace—there are just so many character moments that jarringly did not work)
The idea behind the book is that—at some time in our world’s ancient past, in some Middle Eastern-flavored place—a city-state is conquered by fanatics, who drive the 365 concubines of the murdered ruler’s seraglio out into the desert. But the concubines take matters into their own hands, forge a strong community and ultimately take back their city, where they found a short-lived paradise. (No spoilers; that’s all in the opening.) The book has a narrator—the scholar Rem, who can see the future—but it’s mostly told in the third person with an ensemble cast, dipping into the stories of many people in and around the group.
On the positive side, it is engaging enough that I finished, though there were times around the halfway point when I considered quitting. The authors try out different styles and follow different characters and that can be fun. The prose isn’t bad and there are character moments that work, with sections that are compelling and some room for minor characters to grow.
Unfortunately, in my mind that’s ultimately outweighed by the problems. The book goes on too long, and never earns the pathos it’s shooting for with its tragic end. For a story sold as being about a community of women coming together and discovering their power, an awful lot of time is spent on men: while it is an ensemble cast, there’s roughly five main characters, and of them two are male; one woman was never part of the seraglio; and another was only nominally part of it (she’s actually an embedded assassin); leaving only one concubine (the leader) who gets much development, when I expected the whole book to be about this group.
There’s also some serious male gaze going on, in a focus on physical appearances and a portrayal of a lesbian romance that seems entirely based on physical attraction. And the book completely blows off the women’s experience of being sold to the former ruler and forced to have sex with him: sure, humans are adaptable and in a culture where this is normal and he’s not interpersonally brutal, I can believe that many would have made their peace with it. I don’t believe that there are 365 of them and none found it traumatic.
Beyond that, there’s an unusually high number of character moments that just felt badly off to me. There’s the one where the assassin, as a 14-year-old who has orchestrated her abusive father’s arrest, calmly eats an apple while watching his execution. (After this it took me the whole book to decide whether the authors meant her to be a sociopath. Answer: no, but you see why I thought so! Also, do apples even grow in the desert?) There’s the one where the scholar attempts to defend a beloved library by confronting enemy soldiers... with a stylus... while naked. (I just don’t see what she’s trying to achieve here, and this is not someone who makes use of or even seems comfortable with her own physicality—I can’t imagine her voluntarily stripping naked before men who mean her harm.) There’s the moment where an older woman who has led her people to victory is reunited with the love of her life, and they celebrate by her dancing for him in a public place. (This just felt wrong—that sort of reunion calls for some mutual activity rather than one with a performer and a passive audience, or if someone must perform, it should be him!) There’s the way that the ending tries to convince us that are blissfully happy because they’re together, even though they’ve both lost their purpose and calling—granted I’ve seen this in novels before, but nope, not buying.
Finally, this book is such an embodiment of British Orientalism that its 2012 publication date is startling. The authors throw around words that I guess sound vaguely Middle Eastern to them while clearly ignorant of their meanings. “Janissary” for instance is not a fancy synonym for “soldier”; it refers specifically to the slave corps of the Ottoman Empire, taken from their provinces as young boys. Bafflingly, these authors apply it at random to voluntary troops defending their own city. “Caliph,” meanwhile, is not just a generic term for a particularly important king: it’s the title for the successor of the Prophet Mohammed and leader of the global Muslim community. These authors use it for a ruler with no religious role, just an especially rich city—made weirder by the fact that this is not a secondary world but nominally set in ours, long before the coming of Islam.
Despite that, the book is really all about Islam, with the bad guys representing fundamentalists in a way that feels almost ripped from the headlines. And sure, lots of fantasy is, but British authors writing cluelessly about the Middle East is a particularly unfortunate look. The book features major Orientalist stereotypes as well: take this 10 wives, 365 concubines business. Western countries have a longstanding stereotype of giant harems filled with women sexually available to the ruler, but in reality, that’s far from true. The Mughals’ imperial zenana for instance housed not only the emperor’s wives, but all sorts of female relations—sisters, daughters, aunts, great-aunts, stepmothers (lots of polygamy adds up fast)—plus the widows of officials and anyone else who could make a claim to the emperor’s financial support. This is how, before becoming Jahangir’s 20th wife, Nur Jahan actually already lived in his zenana—she met him well after moving in! The idea that a large women’s quarters meant astronomical numbers of sexual partners says more about fevered western imaginations than reality, and these authors blithely reproduce the stereotype despite the fact that the country in question is tiny.
If you like the idea of a community of previously disenfranchised women coming together to take back their city, let me recommend The Ladies of Mandrigyn instead—despite being much older, it holds up better and is a lot of fun. But this book I can’t recommend.
December 4, 2023
5/5
J'ai absolument tout aimé ici. C'était drôle, touchant, rafraîchissant et très engagé !
Un récit envoûtant au doux parfum de contes avec des histoires imbriquées les unes dans les autres.
Avis Lecture 🧐 📖 "La cité de Soie et d'Acier", Linda, Louise et Mike Carey, @edlatalante 🪔🌴
Sortie le 19 octobre 2023
"Baraha Barahinei !"
"Jadis existait une cité de femmes."
Septembre fut définitivement un très bon cru, car voici venir mon gros coup de coeur chez l'Atalante cette année 😱💗
Avec sa structure similaire aux contes des 1001 nuits, dont les auteurices s'inspirent totalement, mais remanié par sa touche très engagée, moderne et féministe ; ainsi que l'originalité de l'écriture de ce titre, composé à 6 mains par les époux Carey et leur fille - une véritable aventure familiale - j'étais obligé de succomber à l'appel de ce titre.
J'ai eu la chance de pouvoir rencontrer le couple lors de l'Avant Première à l'Atalante et les entendre parler de leur process d'écriture, ainsi que de la naissance de certains personnages, m'a énormément plu.
"La Cité de Soie et d'Acier" est une MERVEILLE menée de front par la puissance des 3 personnages principales - Gursoon, la matriarche pleine de sagesse, Zuleika dont je préfère taire les compétences pour vous en laisser la surprise et Rem notre narratrice aux larmes d'encre. J'ai savouré ce livre, passant par plein d'émotions, du rire aux larmes, de l'envie de le dévorer à celle de laisser le récit s'imprégner en moi. De l'histoire de ces femmes au conte du Maître-queux, j'ai tout aimé ici, sans jamais m'ennuyer une seule seconde ! Et pour tout vous dire, les personnages me manquent.😭
J'ai trouvé la structure du récit ingénieuse, avec ses histoires imbriquées les unes dans les autres, où il devient difficile de défaire la vérité des faux-semblants. J'adore ce genre de récit où l'on ne peut se fier à personne 🤩.
Le style est envoutant, les plumes s'accordent à l'unisson, de sorte qu'en ayant déjà lu du Carey, je n'ai jamais su dire qui écrivait tel passage. La traduction, le gros point fort de la ME est encore une fois menée d'une main de maîtresse par @mathilde_montier et j'applaudis encore son impressionnant travail qui transparaît dans toutes ses traductions.
Un récit à découvrir absolument pour les amoureux des belles plumes et des belles trad, des contes au coin du feu, d'utopies et d'héroïnes courageuses 💗
J'ai absolument tout aimé ici. C'était drôle, touchant, rafraîchissant et très engagé !
Un récit envoûtant au doux parfum de contes avec des histoires imbriquées les unes dans les autres.
Avis Lecture 🧐 📖 "La cité de Soie et d'Acier", Linda, Louise et Mike Carey, @edlatalante 🪔🌴
Sortie le 19 octobre 2023
"Baraha Barahinei !"
"Jadis existait une cité de femmes."
Septembre fut définitivement un très bon cru, car voici venir mon gros coup de coeur chez l'Atalante cette année 😱💗
Avec sa structure similaire aux contes des 1001 nuits, dont les auteurices s'inspirent totalement, mais remanié par sa touche très engagée, moderne et féministe ; ainsi que l'originalité de l'écriture de ce titre, composé à 6 mains par les époux Carey et leur fille - une véritable aventure familiale - j'étais obligé de succomber à l'appel de ce titre.
J'ai eu la chance de pouvoir rencontrer le couple lors de l'Avant Première à l'Atalante et les entendre parler de leur process d'écriture, ainsi que de la naissance de certains personnages, m'a énormément plu.
"La Cité de Soie et d'Acier" est une MERVEILLE menée de front par la puissance des 3 personnages principales - Gursoon, la matriarche pleine de sagesse, Zuleika dont je préfère taire les compétences pour vous en laisser la surprise et Rem notre narratrice aux larmes d'encre. J'ai savouré ce livre, passant par plein d'émotions, du rire aux larmes, de l'envie de le dévorer à celle de laisser le récit s'imprégner en moi. De l'histoire de ces femmes au conte du Maître-queux, j'ai tout aimé ici, sans jamais m'ennuyer une seule seconde ! Et pour tout vous dire, les personnages me manquent.😭
J'ai trouvé la structure du récit ingénieuse, avec ses histoires imbriquées les unes dans les autres, où il devient difficile de défaire la vérité des faux-semblants. J'adore ce genre de récit où l'on ne peut se fier à personne 🤩.
Le style est envoutant, les plumes s'accordent à l'unisson, de sorte qu'en ayant déjà lu du Carey, je n'ai jamais su dire qui écrivait tel passage. La traduction, le gros point fort de la ME est encore une fois menée d'une main de maîtresse par @mathilde_montier et j'applaudis encore son impressionnant travail qui transparaît dans toutes ses traductions.
Un récit à découvrir absolument pour les amoureux des belles plumes et des belles trad, des contes au coin du feu, d'utopies et d'héroïnes courageuses 💗
July 6, 2012
A fast-moving epic full of spicy humor and Arabian magic. This book is not like other fantasy. It's something different, and for that, I loved it.
The story unfolds through a variety of viewpoint characters. The constant switching of viewpoints could have been annoying, but it worked in the end. After all, we're talking about 365 concubines and their children, a prince, their camel-handlers, servants and other hangers-on etc. That's a lot of people. A city in itself (as the book tells it), and the city is the main character.
Because of all these viewpioints, the story also took its time unfolding - meandering and circling back sometimes to flesh out characters or fill in holes. I didn't mind this, because it all seemed to have a purpose and (for me at least) the story wasn't prose-heavy so it was easy enough to sit back and enjoy the ride.
The writing is straight-forward and even a bit cheeky in places:
(I didn't /spoiler that because it's in the very first chapter)
On a personal note, this story also managed to push all my girl-power buttons. Yay! When I first picked it up I wasn't sure what kind of story I was going to get: the down-trodden rising up for revenge? the flighty harem rescued by the knight in shining armor? the balance of power shifted by the seductive prostitutes? No. This book is not so cynical or trite. The women want freedom, but they're not willing to steam-roll the men in order to get it. They work hard for themselves, use their brains, and achieve what they want through good sense and strategy (mostly). They don't have to become men in order to do this. Neither do they have to seduce men into giving them anything. They act as women for their own sake and don't apologize for it. I really liked this form of empowerment that doesn't feed on the subjugation of others.
In the end, I only have two small quibbles: I wanted more from certain characters that I didn't get. I also liked Book the First (part 1) better than the Second, because I thought it was more fleshed out.
The story unfolds through a variety of viewpoint characters. The constant switching of viewpoints could have been annoying, but it worked in the end. After all, we're talking about 365 concubines and their children, a prince, their camel-handlers, servants and other hangers-on etc. That's a lot of people. A city in itself (as the book tells it), and the city is the main character.
Because of all these viewpioints, the story also took its time unfolding - meandering and circling back sometimes to flesh out characters or fill in holes. I didn't mind this, because it all seemed to have a purpose and (for me at least) the story wasn't prose-heavy so it was easy enough to sit back and enjoy the ride.
The writing is straight-forward and even a bit cheeky in places:
"The name of the city was Bessa, and its ruler, the sultan Bokhari Al-Bokhari was a man of no account at all.[...] Bessa had had its share of tyrants, and most people who had an opinion on such things felt that a lazy hedonist was a comparatively light burden to bear.[...] There is more to tell about the sultan, which might be of some trifling interest, but I will forbear to tell it because he's going to be dead very shortly, and thereafter plays no part whatsoever in our story."
(I didn't /spoiler that because it's in the very first chapter)
On a personal note, this story also managed to push all my girl-power buttons. Yay! When I first picked it up I wasn't sure what kind of story I was going to get: the down-trodden rising up for revenge? the flighty harem rescued by the knight in shining armor? the balance of power shifted by the seductive prostitutes? No. This book is not so cynical or trite. The women want freedom, but they're not willing to steam-roll the men in order to get it. They work hard for themselves, use their brains, and achieve what they want through good sense and strategy (mostly). They don't have to become men in order to do this. Neither do they have to seduce men into giving them anything. They act as women for their own sake and don't apologize for it. I really liked this form of empowerment that doesn't feed on the subjugation of others.
In the end, I only have two small quibbles: I wanted more from certain characters that I didn't get. I also liked Book the First (part 1) better than the Second, because I thought it was more fleshed out.
July 4, 2017
I think I'm the only person who hates Mike Carey's books.
Not only was I very excited for this book, but at first I didn't realize this was the same author as The Girl with All the Gifts. What I also didn't realize, was this book is written by (probably) the entire Carey clan... children included.
The Steel Seraglio is a folkloric fantasy that takes place in ancient Arabia. It is in the same vein as The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1001 Nights. Specifically, it is a retelling of the story of Bessa-- a city run by and entirely populated by women. The history of this city is recounted through several character perspectives and all begins with the murder of the reigning Sultan whom is replaced by a relentless religious zealot. This forces his 365 concubines and their children into the desert and inspires their subsequent coup of the city they were cast from.
The various voices (authors) in the text is what really started to put me off. While I was first into the story, I started getting inklings of dislike for certain chapters. Then, I started feeling bored: I felt a serious lack of development, that a lot of the 'plot' wasn't really a plot at all, and that the 'climax' was only a pseudo-climax and was pushed aside by some weird counter-climax near the end.
Additionally, the elements of fantasy that decided to pop-up randomly and the addition of sex-crazed male characters and their political dalliances really did not bode well with me. There was just *too* much going on with too little development, yet too much in some areas.
I will admit, at 80% I just asked my friend to tell me what happened at the end because I couldn't finish it. Not to mention, Carey has written a pseudo-feminist tale. It's like him and his family decided to write this amazing pro-female adventure tale only to think, "wait a second: that's not what would happen because THEY'RE WOMEN AFTER ALL" and changed the ending to be horribly disappointing and NOT empowering at all. The patriarchy strikes again!
Honestly, I don't know why this book had such rave reviews. It was a huge disappointment to me. No more Carey novels (or graphic novels) for this girl.
Not only was I very excited for this book, but at first I didn't realize this was the same author as The Girl with All the Gifts. What I also didn't realize, was this book is written by (probably) the entire Carey clan... children included.
The Steel Seraglio is a folkloric fantasy that takes place in ancient Arabia. It is in the same vein as The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1001 Nights. Specifically, it is a retelling of the story of Bessa-- a city run by and entirely populated by women. The history of this city is recounted through several character perspectives and all begins with the murder of the reigning Sultan whom is replaced by a relentless religious zealot. This forces his 365 concubines and their children into the desert and inspires their subsequent coup of the city they were cast from.
The various voices (authors) in the text is what really started to put me off. While I was first into the story, I started getting inklings of dislike for certain chapters. Then, I started feeling bored: I felt a serious lack of development, that a lot of the 'plot' wasn't really a plot at all, and that the 'climax' was only a pseudo-climax and was pushed aside by some weird counter-climax near the end.
Additionally, the elements of fantasy that decided to pop-up randomly and the addition of sex-crazed male characters and their political dalliances really did not bode well with me. There was just *too* much going on with too little development, yet too much in some areas.
I will admit, at 80% I just asked my friend to tell me what happened at the end because I couldn't finish it. Not to mention, Carey has written a pseudo-feminist tale. It's like him and his family decided to write this amazing pro-female adventure tale only to think, "wait a second: that's not what would happen because THEY'RE WOMEN AFTER ALL" and changed the ending to be horribly disappointing and NOT empowering at all. The patriarchy strikes again!
Honestly, I don't know why this book had such rave reviews. It was a huge disappointment to me. No more Carey novels (or graphic novels) for this girl.
October 31, 2013
Loved this book. Has a very mythic quality like the best adventure stories from history, a tale Scheherazade might have told the king Shahryar in the epic One Thousand and One Nights. Well developed sense of Middle Eastern time and place; wonderful and diverse characters. I found the feminism angle fascinating. Not preachy or pointed like some feminist literature. Rather the authors simply asked what would happen if a city were run by women whose goal was not power and authority, but rather co-existence? They then let the characters tell their story. I hope the Carey's will explore these characters further. I would love to read the complete back story of the assassin, Zuleika, for example. In the mean time, I'm giving this book to my daughter to read and think on. On my buy it, borrow it or skip it scale, a definite buy.
June 20, 2019
I got this book years ago when I visited a friend in London. Got it at Hatchards, which is an AMAZING bookstore and I dream about going there again.
When the sultan and all his wives and kids are killed in a religious rebellion, all the sultans 365 concubines and their kids have to leave the city. But when it’s discovered they’re hiding someone amongst them, orders are to kill them. So they decide to take over the city that they once lived in. It’s a story of surviving and living, and fighting for one’s rights.
It’s set in a Arabian setting, and is very much alike A Thousand And One Night. The story is narrated by Rem, a woman who’s a librarian and also sees the future. She’s also character in the book. At those times she refers the character as “Rem” only times she uses “I” is when herself as the narrator wants to say something. So while the book is seen through different characters in third point of view, it is narrated by Rem. It gives it a omniscient kind of perspective, but also for me it distanced me from the characters a little. I did like the writing, it was very beautiful.
I was prepared to love this book. I didn't I was bored. A lot. Could be the writing, but I was not emotionally invested. It started as a 4 star read but slowly degraded to a 3 star, then picking up a little before going back to 3 stars. I also grew less motivated to read to the point where I started to skip-and-skim-read.
When the sultan and all his wives and kids are killed in a religious rebellion, all the sultans 365 concubines and their kids have to leave the city. But when it’s discovered they’re hiding someone amongst them, orders are to kill them. So they decide to take over the city that they once lived in. It’s a story of surviving and living, and fighting for one’s rights.
It’s set in a Arabian setting, and is very much alike A Thousand And One Night. The story is narrated by Rem, a woman who’s a librarian and also sees the future. She’s also character in the book. At those times she refers the character as “Rem” only times she uses “I” is when herself as the narrator wants to say something. So while the book is seen through different characters in third point of view, it is narrated by Rem. It gives it a omniscient kind of perspective, but also for me it distanced me from the characters a little. I did like the writing, it was very beautiful.
I was prepared to love this book. I didn't I was bored. A lot. Could be the writing, but I was not emotionally invested. It started as a 4 star read but slowly degraded to a 3 star, then picking up a little before going back to 3 stars. I also grew less motivated to read to the point where I started to skip-and-skim-read.
March 12, 2017
This book was everything. I'm not sure how I'm going to go on without a little Bessa to look forward to every night. I'm just going to imagine that it lives on.
At least I have Nimit Malavia's art as my desktop background.
At least I have Nimit Malavia's art as my desktop background.
December 8, 2018
This just made my list of all-time favourite books.
A wonderful, multi-layered tale of storytellers, their stories, and a full harem of concubines who escape death during a revolution by a cult of fanatics and return to the city of Bessa to depose the cultists in turn. Told in the voices of the characters themselves, with recipes, tall tales, legends and fourth-wall-breaking meta-narratives, The City of Silk and Steel is full of action, dry wit, diplomacy, and subtle magics. I can't believe it isn't better known than it is.
Do yourselves a favour and search this one out, trust me, you will not regret it.
A wonderful, multi-layered tale of storytellers, their stories, and a full harem of concubines who escape death during a revolution by a cult of fanatics and return to the city of Bessa to depose the cultists in turn. Told in the voices of the characters themselves, with recipes, tall tales, legends and fourth-wall-breaking meta-narratives, The City of Silk and Steel is full of action, dry wit, diplomacy, and subtle magics. I can't believe it isn't better known than it is.
Do yourselves a favour and search this one out, trust me, you will not regret it.
April 4, 2012
NOTE: This review first appeared on April 3rd, 2012 at
The King of Elfland's 2nd Cousin
. If you enjoy it, please stop by!
Several years ago, I discovered N.M. Penzer's The Harem: Inside the Grand Seraglio of the Turkish Sultans , which opened my eyes to the fascinating history of the Ottoman sultan's harem. What could be more fertile soil for an awesome story than a group of educated women from diverse backgrounds, locked away by a patriarchal society yet with intimate access to the heart of political, military, and religious power, and simultaneously grooming the next generation of the same? The real intrigue and blood-soaked history of the Ottoman Empire's seraglio might well be called "implausible" if it were to show up in a fantasy novel, but with my pre-existing fascination, the moment I saw a book entitled The Steel Seraglio , I had to read it.
The Steel Seraglio is an impressively structured and well-executed fantasy that follows the experiences of three hundred sixty five concubines who - when their sultan is overthrown by an ascetic zealot - find themselves exiled into the desert, fighting for their lives, and their futures.
The Steel Seraglio is loosely structured as a novel-in-stories recounted by Rem, a librarian from the harem's home city. With its mythic feel and folktale overtones, I was strongly reminded of Catherynne M. Valente's In the Night Garden and Gregory Frost's Shadowbridge . However, The Steel Seraglio is more accessible and features more consistent momentum than either of these titles. Like most novels-in-stories, it features both nested and discrete, self-contained tales, but in this case each addresses and expands upon the conflict at the heart of this book: the concubines' battle for self-determination.
The book opens with not one but two prologues, which is an interesting and rather unusual choice. The prologues firmly establish the book's mythic tone, give a good sense of its flowing, evocative descriptions, and introduce us to the Careys' daring technical choices. The first of the two prologues transports us to a dry, desert environment and establishes a decidedly non-Western, patriarchal culture heavily influenced by Middle Eastern traditions. At this point, it is entirely unclear whether we are dealing with a secondary world fantasy or find ourselves in some strange quasi-historical environment.
The first prologue does a good job of communicating the flavor of the novel, introducing us to both a setting and style that heavily reminded me of The Arabian Nights: Tales from a Thousand and One Nights and Shahnameh: The Persian Book of Kings . Considering how much I like both, and how rare it is to find fantasy which eschews quasi-medieval northern European settings, The Steel Seraglio was quite refreshing.
The second of the two prologues further introduces us to our narrator, the librarian Rem, and lays out some of the background essential to the novel which follows. At the same time, this second prologues shifts to a slightly different, more self-aware narrative voice that strategically abandons some of the mythic tone - and it is this shift in voice that most caught my eye, as a bold and risky stylistic gamble that I felt ultimately paid off.
Despite the fact that I enjoyed both prologues on their own terms, I found the first to be one of the weaker parts of an otherwise strong novel. As mentioned above, the Careys successfully avoid the trap of most novels-in-stories by ensuring that each embedded tale shares and focuses on the novel's driving conflict. Of all of the disparate sections of the book, the first prologue alone ignores this central conflict. While it does a good job of grounding the reader in tone, style, and setting through some wonderfully evocative writing, when considered as the first movement in the larger score, I felt it to be somewhat out of place. The second prologue, however, does a good job of easing us into the book's central conflict.
The rest of the book maintains the prologues' lush descriptions and combines them with a momentum-charged focus on character and conflict. The over-arching story is of how the sultan's concubines are exiled after a coup d'état, and how they carve out self-determination for themselves. The story skillfully focuses on the experiences of the harem's leaders (and those of the narrator Rem herself).
The principal characters are a delight: the pragmatic wisdom of the elderly Gursoon, the icy passion of the assassin-cum-concubine Zuleika, the terrifying zealotry of the usurper Hakkim Mehdad, the hilarious cunning of the camel thief Anwar Das, or the self-absorbed immaturity of the surviving prince Jamal are a delight on the page. I found the narrator's own story a little self-absorbed for my taste, but this is not actually a weakness: the character remained well-drawn and interesting. I just found the others more compelling. Despite the myriad characters, and their many embedded stories, the Careys do an excellent job of capturing the conflicting, complicated, messy, and beautiful relationships of a disparate group thrust into one another's orbits by powers beyond their control. The fact that the characters are so rich and varied is a testament to the Careys' skill, and is the primary pillar on which the book's success rests.
The narrative voice is interesting, and takes a notable (and ultimately successful) risk: the narrator, Rem, is gifted by the djinni with the ability to see possible futures. She is a seer, and a librarian, and a storyteller, embedded in of her own mythic time while cognizant of our somewhat more egalitarian future. The seer character is a trope much over-used in fantasy, but the Careys freshen it with a realistic conceit: with her ability to see into the future, Rem's voice becomes peppered with anachronisms. Idioms and words that have no business in a mythic tale salt her prose: in the second paragraph of the second prologue, we are told that for a seer who can see the future "Tenses get a bit confused...and unravelling them again can be a bitch." This departure from the somewhat florid style so commonly associated with myth is shocking, and I found it refreshing.
This is a daring choice of technique, because it risks our immersion in the story: at first blush, we read The Steel Seraglio as a mythic, folktale style narrative. The prose is evocative, lush, flowing: it reads like legend. But by inserting contemporary, anachronistic constructions into otherwise mythic prose, we are forced to reconsider and reevaluate the words and themes introduced by the story. The effect may be jarring. Although some readers might find that it lessens the sense of mythic immersion the prose otherwise produces, I found that the technique was used sparingly enough, and with just enough strategic precision, to heighten my own sense of immersion. After all, wouldn't someone perceptually unmoored from their own time end up with some rather odd verbal tics? Because the Careys play this narrative device straight, making Rem's anachronistic tics and stories strange or incomprehensible to her own contemporaries, the effect heightens the world's remove from our contemporary mores, enhancing the gap between the novel's patriarchal world and our own.
Just as the novel's non-traditional setting is refreshing, so too is its thematic focus on women and their self-determination in a patriarchal society. This is the kind of theme that fantasy, a genre stereotypically known for its lantern-jawed (male) heroes, too rarely addresses. While the book wears its feminist themes on its sleeve, the Careys avoid the polemical trap by focusing on the complicated and at times messy emotional journeys that their (predominantly female) characters must take. As a result, the (perhaps obvious) themes are treated with a skill, compassion, and empathy which diffuses and dramatizes any moralizing agenda.
The core thrust of the novel is divided into two "books" within the larger novel, a "Book the First" and a "Book the Second". While both are well-told, well-structured, and maintain a well-paced momentum, I found that the second of these two books felt somewhat rushed. It focuses on the consequences of the events of the first, but it does so in a much more sweeping, view-from-thirty-thousand-feet fashion than the first eighty percent of the novel. In some respects, as a work of history within the fictional narrative, it works well. And my discomfort with this approach may simply stem from the fact that I wanted to spend more time in the Careys' world, and in the city of Bessa, and with the characters they introduced me to. But nevertheless, I found it felt to some degree like an attempt at a duology crammed into one volume.
Overall, The Steel Seraglio is a delight. Fans of mythic fantasy like Catherynne M. Valente's In the Night Garden or Gregory Frost's Shadowbridge will likely enjoy both its characterization and evocative description, while readers looking for a fun, action-packed story can find the same in its fast-moving pace. The weaknesses I saw, whether in its initial prologue or in the rushed second book, are on the whole quibbles: the book is great fun, and a rich, lovely work of art. The excellent interior illustrations by Nimit Malavia further add to its artistry, though from a design standpoint the artistry might have been heightened by illustrations more evocative of or otherwise tied to the Arabian, Persian, or Ottoman traditions which feature so strongly in the text itself, and in the excellent cover by Erik Mohr.
The Steel Seraglio is a wonderful, resonant book and I would love to see more such novels from its authors (Mike Carey, Linda Carey, Louise Carey), illustrator (Nimit Malavia), and publisher (Chizine Publications).
Several years ago, I discovered N.M. Penzer's The Harem: Inside the Grand Seraglio of the Turkish Sultans , which opened my eyes to the fascinating history of the Ottoman sultan's harem. What could be more fertile soil for an awesome story than a group of educated women from diverse backgrounds, locked away by a patriarchal society yet with intimate access to the heart of political, military, and religious power, and simultaneously grooming the next generation of the same? The real intrigue and blood-soaked history of the Ottoman Empire's seraglio might well be called "implausible" if it were to show up in a fantasy novel, but with my pre-existing fascination, the moment I saw a book entitled The Steel Seraglio , I had to read it.
The Steel Seraglio is an impressively structured and well-executed fantasy that follows the experiences of three hundred sixty five concubines who - when their sultan is overthrown by an ascetic zealot - find themselves exiled into the desert, fighting for their lives, and their futures.
The Steel Seraglio is loosely structured as a novel-in-stories recounted by Rem, a librarian from the harem's home city. With its mythic feel and folktale overtones, I was strongly reminded of Catherynne M. Valente's In the Night Garden and Gregory Frost's Shadowbridge . However, The Steel Seraglio is more accessible and features more consistent momentum than either of these titles. Like most novels-in-stories, it features both nested and discrete, self-contained tales, but in this case each addresses and expands upon the conflict at the heart of this book: the concubines' battle for self-determination.
The book opens with not one but two prologues, which is an interesting and rather unusual choice. The prologues firmly establish the book's mythic tone, give a good sense of its flowing, evocative descriptions, and introduce us to the Careys' daring technical choices. The first of the two prologues transports us to a dry, desert environment and establishes a decidedly non-Western, patriarchal culture heavily influenced by Middle Eastern traditions. At this point, it is entirely unclear whether we are dealing with a secondary world fantasy or find ourselves in some strange quasi-historical environment.
The first prologue does a good job of communicating the flavor of the novel, introducing us to both a setting and style that heavily reminded me of The Arabian Nights: Tales from a Thousand and One Nights and Shahnameh: The Persian Book of Kings . Considering how much I like both, and how rare it is to find fantasy which eschews quasi-medieval northern European settings, The Steel Seraglio was quite refreshing.
The second of the two prologues further introduces us to our narrator, the librarian Rem, and lays out some of the background essential to the novel which follows. At the same time, this second prologues shifts to a slightly different, more self-aware narrative voice that strategically abandons some of the mythic tone - and it is this shift in voice that most caught my eye, as a bold and risky stylistic gamble that I felt ultimately paid off.
Despite the fact that I enjoyed both prologues on their own terms, I found the first to be one of the weaker parts of an otherwise strong novel. As mentioned above, the Careys successfully avoid the trap of most novels-in-stories by ensuring that each embedded tale shares and focuses on the novel's driving conflict. Of all of the disparate sections of the book, the first prologue alone ignores this central conflict. While it does a good job of grounding the reader in tone, style, and setting through some wonderfully evocative writing, when considered as the first movement in the larger score, I felt it to be somewhat out of place. The second prologue, however, does a good job of easing us into the book's central conflict.
The rest of the book maintains the prologues' lush descriptions and combines them with a momentum-charged focus on character and conflict. The over-arching story is of how the sultan's concubines are exiled after a coup d'état, and how they carve out self-determination for themselves. The story skillfully focuses on the experiences of the harem's leaders (and those of the narrator Rem herself).
The principal characters are a delight: the pragmatic wisdom of the elderly Gursoon, the icy passion of the assassin-cum-concubine Zuleika, the terrifying zealotry of the usurper Hakkim Mehdad, the hilarious cunning of the camel thief Anwar Das, or the self-absorbed immaturity of the surviving prince Jamal are a delight on the page. I found the narrator's own story a little self-absorbed for my taste, but this is not actually a weakness: the character remained well-drawn and interesting. I just found the others more compelling. Despite the myriad characters, and their many embedded stories, the Careys do an excellent job of capturing the conflicting, complicated, messy, and beautiful relationships of a disparate group thrust into one another's orbits by powers beyond their control. The fact that the characters are so rich and varied is a testament to the Careys' skill, and is the primary pillar on which the book's success rests.
The narrative voice is interesting, and takes a notable (and ultimately successful) risk: the narrator, Rem, is gifted by the djinni with the ability to see possible futures. She is a seer, and a librarian, and a storyteller, embedded in of her own mythic time while cognizant of our somewhat more egalitarian future. The seer character is a trope much over-used in fantasy, but the Careys freshen it with a realistic conceit: with her ability to see into the future, Rem's voice becomes peppered with anachronisms. Idioms and words that have no business in a mythic tale salt her prose: in the second paragraph of the second prologue, we are told that for a seer who can see the future "Tenses get a bit confused...and unravelling them again can be a bitch." This departure from the somewhat florid style so commonly associated with myth is shocking, and I found it refreshing.
This is a daring choice of technique, because it risks our immersion in the story: at first blush, we read The Steel Seraglio as a mythic, folktale style narrative. The prose is evocative, lush, flowing: it reads like legend. But by inserting contemporary, anachronistic constructions into otherwise mythic prose, we are forced to reconsider and reevaluate the words and themes introduced by the story. The effect may be jarring. Although some readers might find that it lessens the sense of mythic immersion the prose otherwise produces, I found that the technique was used sparingly enough, and with just enough strategic precision, to heighten my own sense of immersion. After all, wouldn't someone perceptually unmoored from their own time end up with some rather odd verbal tics? Because the Careys play this narrative device straight, making Rem's anachronistic tics and stories strange or incomprehensible to her own contemporaries, the effect heightens the world's remove from our contemporary mores, enhancing the gap between the novel's patriarchal world and our own.
Just as the novel's non-traditional setting is refreshing, so too is its thematic focus on women and their self-determination in a patriarchal society. This is the kind of theme that fantasy, a genre stereotypically known for its lantern-jawed (male) heroes, too rarely addresses. While the book wears its feminist themes on its sleeve, the Careys avoid the polemical trap by focusing on the complicated and at times messy emotional journeys that their (predominantly female) characters must take. As a result, the (perhaps obvious) themes are treated with a skill, compassion, and empathy which diffuses and dramatizes any moralizing agenda.
The core thrust of the novel is divided into two "books" within the larger novel, a "Book the First" and a "Book the Second". While both are well-told, well-structured, and maintain a well-paced momentum, I found that the second of these two books felt somewhat rushed. It focuses on the consequences of the events of the first, but it does so in a much more sweeping, view-from-thirty-thousand-feet fashion than the first eighty percent of the novel. In some respects, as a work of history within the fictional narrative, it works well. And my discomfort with this approach may simply stem from the fact that I wanted to spend more time in the Careys' world, and in the city of Bessa, and with the characters they introduced me to. But nevertheless, I found it felt to some degree like an attempt at a duology crammed into one volume.
Overall, The Steel Seraglio is a delight. Fans of mythic fantasy like Catherynne M. Valente's In the Night Garden or Gregory Frost's Shadowbridge will likely enjoy both its characterization and evocative description, while readers looking for a fun, action-packed story can find the same in its fast-moving pace. The weaknesses I saw, whether in its initial prologue or in the rushed second book, are on the whole quibbles: the book is great fun, and a rich, lovely work of art. The excellent interior illustrations by Nimit Malavia further add to its artistry, though from a design standpoint the artistry might have been heightened by illustrations more evocative of or otherwise tied to the Arabian, Persian, or Ottoman traditions which feature so strongly in the text itself, and in the excellent cover by Erik Mohr.
The Steel Seraglio is a wonderful, resonant book and I would love to see more such novels from its authors (Mike Carey, Linda Carey, Louise Carey), illustrator (Nimit Malavia), and publisher (Chizine Publications).
February 9, 2020
I was initially under the misapprehension that 'The City of Silk and Steel' was high fantasy. It's actually more like historical or mythic fiction with a few supernatural elements, which I found much more unusual and interesting. The plot centres upon a harem of 365 women, their children, and their maids who are sent out into the desert after their sultan is deposed and murdered by a religious fanatic. Their fight for survival and return to the city they were exiled from are recounted in a sequence of stories, which also emphasise the importance of storytelling itself. The supernatural elements are largely limited to a character that can see the future, although it is of little benefit to her as the branching possibilities are hard to follow. Outcomes are not decided by the use of magic but by strategy, collaboration, diplomacy, and choices between compassion and cruelty. I loved the emphasis on the importance of the harem woman forming a community, combining their skills and abilities to achieve great things. Although many of the stories revolve around a few main characters, the reader also sees snapshots of many others, giving a powerful sense of the community as a whole.
I found the plot highly involving, although the polyphonic story approach did make the pace somewhat inconsistent. Nonetheless, there are some spectacular action scenes and brutal battles, not to mention ingenious plans. I was especially invested in Rem the librarian and enjoyed her romance subplot. Gursoon the sensible and pragmatic leader was likewise a wonderful character. On the other hand, the male antagonists were sadly plausible in their motivations and cruel actions. The tone managed to be convincingly epic, which is no mean feat. I appreciated the combination of second-hand mythologising and first-hand experience of the city of women, achieved via a few strong voices backed by a chorus of others. The city and its surroundings are quite vivid, although perhaps not as much so as the characters. It was a brilliant idea to centre a novel upon a harem retaking their home, which I realised part-way through is also the plot of Mad Max: Fury Road. In effect, 'The City of Silk and Steel' sets the same basic events two thousand years earlier, with a much larger cast and more complex events. It has the same spirit as the film, though, which makes for a very enjoyable reading experience.
I found the plot highly involving, although the polyphonic story approach did make the pace somewhat inconsistent. Nonetheless, there are some spectacular action scenes and brutal battles, not to mention ingenious plans. I was especially invested in Rem the librarian and enjoyed her romance subplot. Gursoon the sensible and pragmatic leader was likewise a wonderful character. On the other hand, the male antagonists were sadly plausible in their motivations and cruel actions. The tone managed to be convincingly epic, which is no mean feat. I appreciated the combination of second-hand mythologising and first-hand experience of the city of women, achieved via a few strong voices backed by a chorus of others. The city and its surroundings are quite vivid, although perhaps not as much so as the characters. It was a brilliant idea to centre a novel upon a harem retaking their home, which I realised part-way through is also the plot of Mad Max: Fury Road. In effect, 'The City of Silk and Steel' sets the same basic events two thousand years earlier, with a much larger cast and more complex events. It has the same spirit as the film, though, which makes for a very enjoyable reading experience.
July 19, 2024
All sorts of tropes and influences came to mind when reading The City of Silk and Steel. The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night and Scheherazade, Alexander Korda's The Thief of Baghdad, any number of stories by Robert E. Howard involving lost desert cities, computer games by the shovel full displaying sword wielding ladies and gentlemen, Orientalism could raise its head, too, if one believed the story had a serious intent. And - I deliberately leave it to the last - feminism, strong women and girl power.
I left that to the end only because I felt the novel was written and published on the basis of what themes would increase sales. That the desert city of Bessa becomes a city of women in a world rigidly dominated by men, and the women within it have respect for each other, for the welfare of everyone, for learning and humanistic morality - a morality that the male world represses - is nice to have in an adventure novel, even if the philosophy is often light-weight. However, the reality is that there are too many young men around to help the ladies when the going gets tough. That is apart from Zuleika with her assassin training who could knock the crap out of Arnie Schwarzenegger when roused.
The structure of the story is nothing unusual. It is a style of high adventure dating back to the days of pulp fiction but with heroines where there would have been heroes. While the setting is the Arab world, probably well before Islam, Christianity or the Roman empire, minarets, seraglios and viziers make appearances to be certain everyone understands where we are. I felt the use of the Scheherazade storytelling and the presence of Rem, the mystic librarian who sheds inky tears and foresees the future, does little to fuel the flow of the plot. There was always enough going on in terms of action - though not a great deal when it came to relationships, a bit of girl on girl stuff to capture another market - to keep the story moving in a continuous narrative. However, that is just personal taste. As a long adventure story, 537 pages in the hardback edition, it is fine and undemanding yet I felt deep down it wanted to be more and never quite achieved its aims.
I left that to the end only because I felt the novel was written and published on the basis of what themes would increase sales. That the desert city of Bessa becomes a city of women in a world rigidly dominated by men, and the women within it have respect for each other, for the welfare of everyone, for learning and humanistic morality - a morality that the male world represses - is nice to have in an adventure novel, even if the philosophy is often light-weight. However, the reality is that there are too many young men around to help the ladies when the going gets tough. That is apart from Zuleika with her assassin training who could knock the crap out of Arnie Schwarzenegger when roused.
The structure of the story is nothing unusual. It is a style of high adventure dating back to the days of pulp fiction but with heroines where there would have been heroes. While the setting is the Arab world, probably well before Islam, Christianity or the Roman empire, minarets, seraglios and viziers make appearances to be certain everyone understands where we are. I felt the use of the Scheherazade storytelling and the presence of Rem, the mystic librarian who sheds inky tears and foresees the future, does little to fuel the flow of the plot. There was always enough going on in terms of action - though not a great deal when it came to relationships, a bit of girl on girl stuff to capture another market - to keep the story moving in a continuous narrative. However, that is just personal taste. As a long adventure story, 537 pages in the hardback edition, it is fine and undemanding yet I felt deep down it wanted to be more and never quite achieved its aims.
October 22, 2014
As stirring a piece of historical fiction as I've come across in a long time, The Steel Seraglio does not merely pass the Bechdel Test; it goes right over the wall and aces it. It's one of the very few books I've read in which the focus is not on one or two awesome women, but rather on an entire community of women, each of whom has a gift to offer. Certain strong individuals (Gursoon, Rem, Zuleika) stand out, but their greatest triumph, for me, lies in the community they build. This sense of community renders even the most flawed among their number (Zuleika, perhaps) incredibly admirable.
You should read this book if:
1) You like vivid, stirring prose. I was worried at first that the book might turn out to be a broth spoiled by too many cooks (this is, I believe, the first time I've read a book written by three authors), and the style did take a little getting used to. But soon enough, it absorbed me. A reader will find beauty in these words.
2) You like a diverse cast of characters, a majority of them women. Not only does this book ace the Bechdel Test; it punches the Smurfette Principle (the idea that not only can there be only one awesome woman, but there is only one way a woman can be truly awesome) right in the eye. Here we see the many, many different ways in which female characters might be powerful, competent, and courageous. I particularly liked the portrayal of Gursoon, a woman past her prime who carries incredible wisdom and grace in her being; I enjoy seeing older women as central, sympathetic figures.
3) You want to immerse yourself in a world different from the usual pseudo-Europe found in most fantasy novels. Welcome to a vividly detailed world that evokes the Thousand and One Nights.
4) You're tired of heteronormity. At first (again) I was worried that the male characters would be portrayed as uniformly nasty, but as the book develops, we actually see warm and supportive relationships between men and women, including husbands and wives. The central love story, however, is between two women, and it's developed in enough detail that the reader can clearly see why and how these two women are drawn to each other.
5) You like your villains complex and understandable yet still thoroughly detestable.
Warning: While there are a few supernatural elements in the book, those expecting a full-blown fantasy might be disappointed. This is closer to alternate-world historical fiction. If you appreciate that, you will very likely enjoy this book.
You should read this book if:
1) You like vivid, stirring prose. I was worried at first that the book might turn out to be a broth spoiled by too many cooks (this is, I believe, the first time I've read a book written by three authors), and the style did take a little getting used to. But soon enough, it absorbed me. A reader will find beauty in these words.
2) You like a diverse cast of characters, a majority of them women. Not only does this book ace the Bechdel Test; it punches the Smurfette Principle (the idea that not only can there be only one awesome woman, but there is only one way a woman can be truly awesome) right in the eye. Here we see the many, many different ways in which female characters might be powerful, competent, and courageous. I particularly liked the portrayal of Gursoon, a woman past her prime who carries incredible wisdom and grace in her being; I enjoy seeing older women as central, sympathetic figures.
3) You want to immerse yourself in a world different from the usual pseudo-Europe found in most fantasy novels. Welcome to a vividly detailed world that evokes the Thousand and One Nights.
4) You're tired of heteronormity. At first (again) I was worried that the male characters would be portrayed as uniformly nasty, but as the book develops, we actually see warm and supportive relationships between men and women, including husbands and wives. The central love story, however, is between two women, and it's developed in enough detail that the reader can clearly see why and how these two women are drawn to each other.
5) You like your villains complex and understandable yet still thoroughly detestable.
Warning: While there are a few supernatural elements in the book, those expecting a full-blown fantasy might be disappointed. This is closer to alternate-world historical fiction. If you appreciate that, you will very likely enjoy this book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 3, 2018
The Steel Seraglio has no shortage of ambition, working into several levels of storytelling a mix of high adventure, politics, magic, and myth, throwing just about everything at the wall to get there. Sometimes it works. It's a unique novel, I'll give it that.
"Once there was a city of women," intones the opening lines of the book and everything that follows leads up to and away from this fact. The ruler ancient city of Bessa is toppled and his seraglio, 365 concubines, and their children are sent as a gift to a neighboring city. Word is intercepted that there are instructions to have them all killed en route and the women organize and rebel. The women build their new society in the desert, soon setting their sights upon reclaiming the city.
The novel tries its hardest to channel The Arabian Nights with its mystical imagery and florid language but it's at its strongest when it aspires to classic Hollywood. The best scenes from when the women invade the captured city channel the thrills from The Thief of Baghdad. The short, compelling romance stories, from the unrequited love of the librarian Rem's helper to the farewell between the rogue Anwar Das and his lover, feel like they're stirring up the romantic spirit of a Preston Sturges film. There are several memorable moments in the novel and they're often the briefest.
The book tries to engage in the political and feminist implications of its premise but this is also where it seems to lose the courage of its convictions. In theory it would be interesting how it tries to tackle the notion of how a new society like this can work modern concepts of equality into its fabric but there's little depth or nuance to it. It's also unbelievable that the surrounding world, after the city is taken, seems less hostile to women in certain ways than our modern one. Finally, returning to the opening line, everything is written around the idea that this is all doomed to fail. Just another lesson for history. Whatever interesting implications ever began to emerge get swept away as the novel works itself backwards into the pit it promised from the start. A shame.
"Once there was a city of women," intones the opening lines of the book and everything that follows leads up to and away from this fact. The ruler ancient city of Bessa is toppled and his seraglio, 365 concubines, and their children are sent as a gift to a neighboring city. Word is intercepted that there are instructions to have them all killed en route and the women organize and rebel. The women build their new society in the desert, soon setting their sights upon reclaiming the city.
The novel tries its hardest to channel The Arabian Nights with its mystical imagery and florid language but it's at its strongest when it aspires to classic Hollywood. The best scenes from when the women invade the captured city channel the thrills from The Thief of Baghdad. The short, compelling romance stories, from the unrequited love of the librarian Rem's helper to the farewell between the rogue Anwar Das and his lover, feel like they're stirring up the romantic spirit of a Preston Sturges film. There are several memorable moments in the novel and they're often the briefest.
The book tries to engage in the political and feminist implications of its premise but this is also where it seems to lose the courage of its convictions. In theory it would be interesting how it tries to tackle the notion of how a new society like this can work modern concepts of equality into its fabric but there's little depth or nuance to it. It's also unbelievable that the surrounding world, after the city is taken, seems less hostile to women in certain ways than our modern one. Finally, returning to the opening line, everything is written around the idea that this is all doomed to fail. Just another lesson for history. Whatever interesting implications ever began to emerge get swept away as the novel works itself backwards into the pit it promised from the start. A shame.
September 13, 2013
I love stories with well-developed female characters who exercise their own agency. I love stories with fantastical elements, stories that feel like a fairy tale that nonetheless might have once had some basis in reality. I love stories with scamps and trickster archetypes. I love stories about people struggling to be better people in the midst of a world that only wants to drag them down. I love stories about the importance of stories to our species.
Needless to say, I loved this book.
The Careys have really pulled off a heck of a feat, here. Much like the Thousand Nights and a Night, there's an overarching tale being told, but it's told in small, often stand-alone short stories, often from different viewpoints, all woven together into a rich thick tapestry. It makes the events feel three-dimensional, less like they're being related by a single historian and more that they're being actively lived through by the people telling them.
Of course, such an approach would hardly be half so memorable if there weren't such compelling characters. Each one, most of them female, has their own history, their own motivations, their own values, and their own goals. (When I see authors whinge about how it's just so hard to write female characters with depth, from now on, rather than wishing I could force-choke them as I did before, I'm going to gift them a copy of this book. ) If there's one minor flaw, it's that there sometimes feels like there are gaps in the storytelling - I would have liked to see the "learning to support themselves through crafting" scene from a more personalized viewpoint, for instance - but these are generally fairly minor and more a matter of personal preference.
To be honest, I can't believe this book hasn't gained more popularity than it has. I have a feeling a lot of my friends are getting copies for Christmas presents this year.
Needless to say, I loved this book.
The Careys have really pulled off a heck of a feat, here. Much like the Thousand Nights and a Night, there's an overarching tale being told, but it's told in small, often stand-alone short stories, often from different viewpoints, all woven together into a rich thick tapestry. It makes the events feel three-dimensional, less like they're being related by a single historian and more that they're being actively lived through by the people telling them.
Of course, such an approach would hardly be half so memorable if there weren't such compelling characters. Each one, most of them female, has their own history, their own motivations, their own values, and their own goals. (When I see authors whinge about how it's just so hard to write female characters with depth, from now on, rather than wishing I could force-choke them as I did before, I'm going to gift them a copy of this book. ) If there's one minor flaw, it's that there sometimes feels like there are gaps in the storytelling - I would have liked to see the "learning to support themselves through crafting" scene from a more personalized viewpoint, for instance - but these are generally fairly minor and more a matter of personal preference.
To be honest, I can't believe this book hasn't gained more popularity than it has. I have a feeling a lot of my friends are getting copies for Christmas presents this year.
May 19, 2020
Enjoyable read but over-long. The arabian nights style of stories-within-stories helped to break it up a bit but also contributed to the feeling of over-familiarity - felt I always knew what was going to happen.
October 7, 2018
It’s rare when, after finishing a book, you have zero qualms with it – even little nit-picks. But that’s exactly how I felt after finishing The Steel Seraglio by Mike Carey, Linda Carey and Louise Carey. This is going to be a short review and really more of a rave; there’s not much else needed to say except that it’s just very nice.
The book takes clear inspiration from A Thousand and One Nights – from the prose to the chapter names. Each chapter is named in the format of a short fairy tale (‘The Tale of the Girl, Her Father, Her Two Suitors and the King of Assassins’, ‘The Youth Staked Out in the Desert’ etc) and usually is quite short in length to fit this theme. The narrative style is reminiscent of folktales in that it’s flowery and poetic. Almost every chapter works as a standalone tale and they occasionally contain nested tales. One, for example, is recounted by the narrator about an elderly lady who then tells a story to her grandkids. It’s a simple but surprisingly effective way to emphasis the mythical nature of the book.
The overall story is about the rise and fall of Bessa - the ‘city of women’. As the narrator points out almost immediately, this moniker taken literally is an inaccurate description of the city but is more or less an accurate statement given the gender politics of the book’s setting. The book tells the story of the late Sultan’s harem of 100 women after they get banished from the city by the new ascetic leader. Forced to fend for themselves in an environment that is far less luxurious than what they’re used to, they quickly create a new egalitarian society for themselves in the desert.
The story meanders along, occasionally pauses to elaborate on the backstory of a character and switches between the POVs of many of the people in the city. There are roughly 5 main POVs but often there will be a chapter here or there following a side character who until then was just mentioned by name. Having too many viewpoints is often a recipe for disaster or at least for confusion but it works here. It never feels forced and just adds to the theme of community. It makes sense that the narrator is omniscient because it’s a made up tale so of course they can say with certainty how every character thinks and feels.
In a similar vein of Becky Chambers’ Wayfarers and Neil Gaiman’s Stardust, The Steel Seraglio just oozes warmth and humour. The characters are sympathetic, optimistic and trusting of each other. They are genuinely good people trying to create something worthwhile and lasting and it’s a joy to read.
And if you’re interested in reading poc- or female-centric books, good news pal because this book is naturally chock full of them.
The book takes clear inspiration from A Thousand and One Nights – from the prose to the chapter names. Each chapter is named in the format of a short fairy tale (‘The Tale of the Girl, Her Father, Her Two Suitors and the King of Assassins’, ‘The Youth Staked Out in the Desert’ etc) and usually is quite short in length to fit this theme. The narrative style is reminiscent of folktales in that it’s flowery and poetic. Almost every chapter works as a standalone tale and they occasionally contain nested tales. One, for example, is recounted by the narrator about an elderly lady who then tells a story to her grandkids. It’s a simple but surprisingly effective way to emphasis the mythical nature of the book.
The overall story is about the rise and fall of Bessa - the ‘city of women’. As the narrator points out almost immediately, this moniker taken literally is an inaccurate description of the city but is more or less an accurate statement given the gender politics of the book’s setting. The book tells the story of the late Sultan’s harem of 100 women after they get banished from the city by the new ascetic leader. Forced to fend for themselves in an environment that is far less luxurious than what they’re used to, they quickly create a new egalitarian society for themselves in the desert.
The story meanders along, occasionally pauses to elaborate on the backstory of a character and switches between the POVs of many of the people in the city. There are roughly 5 main POVs but often there will be a chapter here or there following a side character who until then was just mentioned by name. Having too many viewpoints is often a recipe for disaster or at least for confusion but it works here. It never feels forced and just adds to the theme of community. It makes sense that the narrator is omniscient because it’s a made up tale so of course they can say with certainty how every character thinks and feels.
In a similar vein of Becky Chambers’ Wayfarers and Neil Gaiman’s Stardust, The Steel Seraglio just oozes warmth and humour. The characters are sympathetic, optimistic and trusting of each other. They are genuinely good people trying to create something worthwhile and lasting and it’s a joy to read.
And if you’re interested in reading poc- or female-centric books, good news pal because this book is naturally chock full of them.
July 9, 2016
Well, this is a tough one to review. On the one hand, I greatly appreciate the effort. The story is wonderful: a group of concubines takes life into their own hands when forced to it, and decides they like it. They build a new life for themselves, a life in which women rule and are allowed to do something with their lives. They conquer a religious fanatic, they change their lives for the better. A wonderful story! Passes the Bechdel test easily! Great female characters, and a lot of them, including two great lesbian characters. It's such a pity that the authors don't know how to tell a story... It really took me over 150 pages to get into it enough without getting annoyed at the writing style. It is written very distantly, a bit like someone is telling stories, or fairy-tales. That makes it very difficult to connect to any of the characters, despite the fact that they are great. And it is very necessary to connect to them, because the first few chapters introduces quite a few of them. And just about every single chapter starts like a story told to toddlers again. By the end of the chapter, perhaps you get into it a bit, and then whoop, new chapter, new shallow, distant fairy-tale. I skipped the chapter where one of the characters is ACTUALLY telling a fairy-tale. He is clearly making up a story about himself, but still the whole chapter is 'and the young man did this', 'the young man did that'. Boring! The middle of the book finally gets a bit better. Then part 2 starts. Yes, for some reason the book is divided in two parts. And the second part reads like a bunch of short stories. As if the authors thought out a few of them, and then decided to stick them at the end. They feel completely random. The last few chapters make more sense again.
Because the story is so great, and the characters are so cool, I'm going with three stars. Such a pity...
Because the story is so great, and the characters are so cool, I'm going with three stars. Such a pity...
April 8, 2013
"No one said it would be easy, and it wasn't. We did it anyway"
When the city of Bessa is seized by a religious zealot he casts out the former Sultan's harem of 365 women. Wandering alone in the desert, the women are forced out of their life of pampering, silks and perfumes into a vicious battle for survival. However when these dancing girls, assasins and artists join forces with with bandits, camel drivers and librarians, they start to understand the bliss of freedom and their dream to return home begins to look more and more like a reality.
This book is published in the UK as The City of Silk and Steel.
Fantastic book. A well written tale of adventure, love, loss, magic and inevitability. I'm putting it on my 'Original' shelf alongside The Book Thief and The Night Circus.
When I picked this up I certainly wasn't expecting it to have me hysterics but the wry humour and use of irony was brilliant! Perfectly fitting in with the myths and action.
Of course, I wanted a Happily Ever After; but in the end I thought the Careys constructed a much more realistc and interesting conclusion, which while sad still held glimmers of hope.
"When we left Bessa, we were a seraglio of silk and fragrance and soft music. Now we are a seraglio of steel."
When the city of Bessa is seized by a religious zealot he casts out the former Sultan's harem of 365 women. Wandering alone in the desert, the women are forced out of their life of pampering, silks and perfumes into a vicious battle for survival. However when these dancing girls, assasins and artists join forces with with bandits, camel drivers and librarians, they start to understand the bliss of freedom and their dream to return home begins to look more and more like a reality.
This book is published in the UK as The City of Silk and Steel.
Fantastic book. A well written tale of adventure, love, loss, magic and inevitability. I'm putting it on my 'Original' shelf alongside The Book Thief and The Night Circus.
When I picked this up I certainly wasn't expecting it to have me hysterics but the wry humour and use of irony was brilliant! Perfectly fitting in with the myths and action.
Of course, I wanted a Happily Ever After; but in the end I thought the Careys constructed a much more realistc and interesting conclusion, which while sad still held glimmers of hope.
"When we left Bessa, we were a seraglio of silk and fragrance and soft music. Now we are a seraglio of steel."
January 8, 2015
I am a huge Mike Carey fan and a fan of the Arabian Nights setup, but this book petered out on me. Yes, there are a lot of strong diverse female characters. There are whole chapters of brilliant setting & storytelling. But ultimately the overarching plot became very predictable and boring. "Oh I guess they're going to take the city back and be successful. I bet the kid is going to go from complete spoiled brat to entitled violent man-child." Because of the shifts in character focus, I never felt invested enough in the characters to care about what happened to them next. I also found the thinly disguised Islam references very jarring. Either have the religion be Islam or figure out something unique. As it was, it felt poorly appropriative. Ultimately I gave up on the book out of frustration.
April 19, 2012
My god, this was just so wonderful and true and beautiful.
The 365 concubines of Bessa are exiled from the city after a religious revolution. What follows is the story first of survival in the harsh desert and then of the birth and flourishing of the fabled City of Women.
The sweep of the story manages to balance the broad and epic with the intimate and the personal. The main plot is interrupted frequently for brief character studies, tall tales, and 'elsewheres', which is wonderful, both for breaking up the pace, and for giving the reader more of a stake in the huge cast of characters.
This book is just brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. Go buy it.
The 365 concubines of Bessa are exiled from the city after a religious revolution. What follows is the story first of survival in the harsh desert and then of the birth and flourishing of the fabled City of Women.
The sweep of the story manages to balance the broad and epic with the intimate and the personal. The main plot is interrupted frequently for brief character studies, tall tales, and 'elsewheres', which is wonderful, both for breaking up the pace, and for giving the reader more of a stake in the huge cast of characters.
This book is just brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. Go buy it.
July 11, 2017
It's rare to find a book the world building is so beautifully well thought out and so integral to the story. I loved this feminist version of the The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1001 Nights, Volume 1 and I was sad to see the end of it. If I have a criticism of the story, it is that part 2 feels like a lesser piece of work than part 1, but it's a minor point at best and easy to overlook when the whole is such a great story.
July 23, 2025
Un seul point positif: la couverture et le le livre en tant qu’objet.
Le reste est un mélange de voyeurisme pervers sur les femmes orientales, une vision clichée de l’islam tel que vu par l’occident dans ses extrêmes, des personnages lisses et sans saveur, et une double trame narrative inintéressante.
Le résumé m’intéressait énormément. On y colle également des labels, tels que des contes (orientaux), du féminisme, et une vengeance à l’échelle d’une société.
Que nenni.
Les contes étayés n’ont rien de contes, mais il s’agit plutôt de courts chapitres simplistes, centrés sur tel personnages, et nécessaires pour combler des défaillances narratives.
Une femme dénudée qui accepte des sévices sexuels sur son corps ? Justifié car ça lui convient de rester une des 365 concubines d’un décadent sexuel, parce que c’est plutôt sympa d’avoir une vie sociale avec d’autres personnes.
Elle tue 3 hommes armés et entraînés rapidement ? C’est normal puisque lorsqu’elle était très jeune, elle a fait assassiner son propre père, son ex copain, l’homme qui voulait la marier et un criminel pour fuir son foyer et intégrer une confrérie d’assassins qui n’aura servi qu’à ça dans tout le roman. Bien sûr, ce personnage n’a aucun remord à manger une pomme et sourire lors de la pendaison de son père. Un développement tout à fait logique pour une jeune fille qui devait être mariée à un homme. Tout à fait proportionnel. On ne l’appelle pas la sociopathe mais la femme forte. Cette vision dite féministe est juste à vomir.
Si être un homme et penser que le féminisme c’est écrire des personnages forts ou dotés de pouvoirs surnaturels, je pense qu’on n’avancera jamais dans une égalité de genre et un respect commun.
Les femmes sont sexualisées, même après avoir été libérées du joug malsain. Elles sont littéralement comparés à des animaux. Elles sont dénudées pour x raison. L’histoire d’amour entre les deux personnages principales (amour saphique) est tellement mal écrit et part dans un cliché…. La femme forte tombe amoureuse de la femme littéraire.
Je pourrai m’étendre mais je n’ai plus envie de penser à ce roman.
Je finirai par dire que l’écriture, et également la traduction, étaient assez inégales. Les propos n’étaient pas profonds et si certains passages descriptifs pouvaient être assez bien écrits, ils pouvaient friser la pédanterie au paragraphe suivant.
La traduction est assez insupportable, entre les « Icelle » « Icelui » usés à outrance, comme si la traductrice avait appris ces mots juste avant d’entamer son travail.
Sans compter certaines phrases assez gênantes qui m’ont complètement sorti du texte, comme (p. 507): « Sergent Dretha, le sang que tu chies est un présage de mort. »
🙄
On ne devrait effectivement pas juger un livre sa couverture. Comme le démontre ce roman, il peut y avoir de mauvaises surprises.
Le reste est un mélange de voyeurisme pervers sur les femmes orientales, une vision clichée de l’islam tel que vu par l’occident dans ses extrêmes, des personnages lisses et sans saveur, et une double trame narrative inintéressante.
Le résumé m’intéressait énormément. On y colle également des labels, tels que des contes (orientaux), du féminisme, et une vengeance à l’échelle d’une société.
Que nenni.
Les contes étayés n’ont rien de contes, mais il s’agit plutôt de courts chapitres simplistes, centrés sur tel personnages, et nécessaires pour combler des défaillances narratives.
Une femme dénudée qui accepte des sévices sexuels sur son corps ? Justifié car ça lui convient de rester une des 365 concubines d’un décadent sexuel, parce que c’est plutôt sympa d’avoir une vie sociale avec d’autres personnes.
Elle tue 3 hommes armés et entraînés rapidement ? C’est normal puisque lorsqu’elle était très jeune, elle a fait assassiner son propre père, son ex copain, l’homme qui voulait la marier et un criminel pour fuir son foyer et intégrer une confrérie d’assassins qui n’aura servi qu’à ça dans tout le roman. Bien sûr, ce personnage n’a aucun remord à manger une pomme et sourire lors de la pendaison de son père. Un développement tout à fait logique pour une jeune fille qui devait être mariée à un homme. Tout à fait proportionnel. On ne l’appelle pas la sociopathe mais la femme forte. Cette vision dite féministe est juste à vomir.
Si être un homme et penser que le féminisme c’est écrire des personnages forts ou dotés de pouvoirs surnaturels, je pense qu’on n’avancera jamais dans une égalité de genre et un respect commun.
Les femmes sont sexualisées, même après avoir été libérées du joug malsain. Elles sont littéralement comparés à des animaux. Elles sont dénudées pour x raison. L’histoire d’amour entre les deux personnages principales (amour saphique) est tellement mal écrit et part dans un cliché…. La femme forte tombe amoureuse de la femme littéraire.
Je pourrai m’étendre mais je n’ai plus envie de penser à ce roman.
Je finirai par dire que l’écriture, et également la traduction, étaient assez inégales. Les propos n’étaient pas profonds et si certains passages descriptifs pouvaient être assez bien écrits, ils pouvaient friser la pédanterie au paragraphe suivant.
La traduction est assez insupportable, entre les « Icelle » « Icelui » usés à outrance, comme si la traductrice avait appris ces mots juste avant d’entamer son travail.
Sans compter certaines phrases assez gênantes qui m’ont complètement sorti du texte, comme (p. 507): « Sergent Dretha, le sang que tu chies est un présage de mort. »
🙄
On ne devrait effectivement pas juger un livre sa couverture. Comme le démontre ce roman, il peut y avoir de mauvaises surprises.
December 23, 2019
This is a pretty magnificent book. The structure varies — sometimes it's a series of short vignettes from various points of view, sometimes a fable, sometimes a look back at a distant past from a perspective where most things about it have been forgotten. At one point it's a series of symbolic recipes showing the life of a palace. But mostly it's just one grand epic tale about what happens to a vast harem in a desert country when the sultan who owns them is killed by ascetics in a coup. There are a lot of points of view in this novel, from the ascetic leader to various women who rise up to build a community and eventually take back their city, and the women range from an assassin and a djinn-touched prophet to a woman who's just really good at weaving. This book tells a lot of stories that add up to one story, but its way of getting there is unconventional, refreshing, and unpredictable, with the narrative focus repeatedly shifting so it isn't a familiar Arabian Nights style fairy tale. Very much recommended.
February 13, 2019
Being a big fan of Mike/ MR Carey I was nervous about this one. What if it wasn't as good? I needn't have worried! It's brilliant! Like a glowing multi-coloured tapestry it weaves an intricate and enthralling tale of women who fight for and win their freedom in what has been called an Arabian Nights kind of tale. I couldn't put it down and I was almost sad to have it end. The characters and the city will stay with me.
December 22, 2023
Une excellente lecture.
Un récit féministe, raconter tel les Milles et une Nuit.
L'histoire d'un sérail qui finira par fondé la Cité de Soie et d'Acier, raconter via une multitude d'histoire.
On s'attache à ces femmes, à leurs forces, leurs histoires.
Le livre est empli de passage formidable, des passages tristes et émouvant.
La famille Carey a réussi un véritable tour de force avec ces récits.
Un récit féministe, raconter tel les Milles et une Nuit.
L'histoire d'un sérail qui finira par fondé la Cité de Soie et d'Acier, raconter via une multitude d'histoire.
On s'attache à ces femmes, à leurs forces, leurs histoires.
Le livre est empli de passage formidable, des passages tristes et émouvant.
La famille Carey a réussi un véritable tour de force avec ces récits.
January 2, 2025
Un conte féministe écrit à six mains à lire absolument !
Entre les mythes arabo-persans, le style 1001 nuits et la fable féminine, j'avais de quoi être attirée par ce roman, et il faut dire que je n'ai pas été déçue. Le style est délicieusement poétique, les personnages possèdent une personnalité si bien dépeinte qu'il m'était facile de me les figurer tout au long de la lecture, et même de prédire leurs réactions. J'ai fini par rêver avec les héroïnes, à craindre avec elles et à souhaiter ce monde qu'elles souhaitaient créer.
Ce livre a été mon véritable coup de cœur 2024.
Entre les mythes arabo-persans, le style 1001 nuits et la fable féminine, j'avais de quoi être attirée par ce roman, et il faut dire que je n'ai pas été déçue. Le style est délicieusement poétique, les personnages possèdent une personnalité si bien dépeinte qu'il m'était facile de me les figurer tout au long de la lecture, et même de prédire leurs réactions. J'ai fini par rêver avec les héroïnes, à craindre avec elles et à souhaiter ce monde qu'elles souhaitaient créer.
Ce livre a été mon véritable coup de cœur 2024.
December 9, 2019
Absolutely epic.
July 20, 2023
It is a solid storyline if marred by its own structure. I'm not a fan of the fragmented nature of the first half of the book. It breaks the momentum over and over again and makes the first half a bit of a slog to read.
January 1, 2024
Premier coup de cœur de l’année i guess 💜
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