The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater

October 2011, Scholastic
404 pages, Paperback
Review copy

Literary fantasy
Some brutal, horrible deaths

Summary from Scholastic:

It happens at the start of every November: the Scorpio Races. Riders attempt to keep hold of their water horses long enough to make it to the finish line. Some riders live. Others die.

At age nineteen, Sean Kendrick is the returning champion. He is a young man of few words, and if he has any fears, he keeps them buried deep, where no one else can see them.

Puck Connolly is different. She never meant to ride in the Scorpio Races. But fate hasn’t given her much of a chance. So she enters the competition — the first girl ever to do so. She is in no way prepared for what is going to happen.

Amy's Thoughts:

This is not a book to squee over; this is a book to quietly die for. I really, really don't know how to do this book justice in a review, so bear with me while I try.

The Scorpio Races is set on a small island in the UK, and the ocean permeates the story. More. This story IS the ocean. The ocean is vast and deep and dangerous and compelling, moody and tempestuous and utterly, utterly charming while at the same time pervaded by a dangerous undercurrent. Ocean, water, blue-brown-grey, gull crying in loneliness from the craggy cliffs and the wind whipping in your face - this is Maggie Stiefvater's The Scorpio Races.

It's quiet, and compelling, and oh, so utterly, utterly true. No, it's not a factual story, but what it says about people and life and grief and love - it's real. It's true.

I've never in my life hated an author before, not even when J.K. killed off beloved characters in her Harry Potter series. I cried, sure, just like I bawled my eyes out for the last three chapters of Marley and Me; but I've never hated an author for something they made happen in a book.

I hated Ms Stiefvater. At a certain point in the last quarter of The Scorpio Races, I wanted to throw it against a wall and scream in outrage and horror at the unfairness of it all. But I couldn't, because what she'd written was right; it was true. And I couldn't bring myself to not read the end, not see how it finished. And I'm so, so, so glad I did finish it, because the ending was worth waiting for, and is so bittersweetly beautiful that I'm literally crying again now remembering it.

I love this book. If you love human-animal connections, real romantic relationships that are more about mutual respect and understanding than mushiness, difficult decisions, wild places, bittersweet endings and of course, killer water horses, please: love this book too.

Final Conclusion:
This is the most heart-wrenching book I can ever remember reading. I want to carry it around with me forever to remind me of all that is beautiful and important in life - and what exactly love is.

Find Maggie Stiefvater on her website, and view the trailer for The scorpio Races here.

EXCITING CONTEST NEWS: I'm doing a joint giveaway with Nayuleska of Nayu's corner. To enter for your chance to win an ARC of The Scorpio Races, tell someone about this contest (FB, Twitter, your blog, in person, whatevs) and fill in this form. And no, we don't require proof that you told someone; we trust you. Although if you came up with a way to show us that you told someone in person, that would be kind of awesome. *imagines photos, videos, audios* *cackles*

The contest will close on SEPTEMBER 13 and is open INTERNATIONALLY. Oh, and the cover is not as pictured since it's an uncorrected proof ;)

A Clarification of 'Honesty'

I mentioned last week that I think 'honesty' is an important quality of a great writer. I need to respond to the comments (sorry!), but something struck me as I was reading them: by honesty, I don't mean 'pouring out your heart', or 'wearing your heart on your sleeve', or anything like that. I don't mean pouring out the tragedies of your life, or trying to impress the reader.

In fact, I mean just the opposite. I mean 'honesty' in the sense my husband uses it when he talks about 'honest architecture' (ya, he's an architect). It means architecture without pretension, architure that embraces what it is and doesn't try to pretend to be something different, something more, or even something less. It's understated when it needs to be, it's loud if it has to be, but above all else, it's... honest. It comes from a place of integrity, without the need to impress - unless its entire point is to impress. It's something that holds true to its intent, embraces functionality as well as fancy-prettiness, and creates something that rings true.

I hope you can see how that applies to writing. It's not about wearing your emotions on your sleeve, or pouring in the smush to tug at readers' heartstrings. It's about being honest about what you're doing; it's about knowing what you're doing and why; it's about being real.

It's the exact opposite of my first short stories, which in an attempt to be 'interesting' were melodramatic and overwritten - because they weren't coming from me, from my experiences. They didn't ring true, because they weren't. I didn't have the maturity or life experiences to write about the subjects I chose - and frankly, it showed.

This is what people mean when they tell you, 'Write what you know'. It isn't about writing only in the here-and-now, because that's all you've experienced; it isn't about never writing about a married character if you're single, or only writing about your own gender, or never writing fantasy and science fiction (heaven forbid!!!); it's about letting your experiences form the basis of what you write, of writing from your own pain, your own suffering, extrapolating from things you've actually felt and translating them into similar situations, even if the characters are inhuman or the setting isn't Earth.

It's what you know, stretched further, deeper, broader, applied to the whole range of human experience. It's about knowing which bits of what you've experienced are part of the human condition, which bits resonate; it's about making sure your work rings true.

With this definition of honesty, what do you think? Do we need it?

What Makes A Good Writer?

So, a conversation I had some time ago with a friend of mine went something like this:

Friend: she... she's a good writer, but she isn't ready to be a good writer, if that makes sense
Inky: she has no sense of self-worth - yes, that makes sense
Friend: no kidding
Inky: you need a bit of inner strength to be a truly good writer, I think

Which brings me to today's topic: What makes a good writer? What are the qualities that good writers possess?

Obviously, the thing at the head of our list will be 'can write well', followed closely by 'can edit well', followed again by 'writes regularly' (and I'm not talking regularly as in the way I horseride, which is extremely regularly, but not very frequently - once a year, to be precise :D).

But other than the ability to write, and to do it day after day, what does a writer need?

Persistence. Flexibility. The ability to adapt and change. (See here. There's also a nifty quiz you can take here). The ability to listen to the advice of others, and take constructive criticism.

All these are pretty logical, and are quite obvious when you think about it. Anyone who's been dabbling in the writing industry for any genuine length of time should be able to find a whole bunch of sources that agree with these qualities.

But.

But what? But a lot of people have these qualities, and it still never happens for them. A lot of people are good writers, midlist writers; but some people are great writers.

Sadly, I'm not (yet) one of those, so what I say here is pure speculation. One day I hope to hold empirical evidence in my hand as to the true of my suspicions, but for now, suspicions:

I think that to be a great writer, you need to know deep down that no matter what people say, you are still of worth, and what you say and think has value. You need to know you have a story to tell, and you need to be one hundred percent committed to getting it out there. You need to value it, and you need to value yourself.

And above that, because you value yourself, because you value your story, and because you're committed to making both the best you can be, you need to be able to dig deep within yourself and rip out your heart, and plaster it to the page. A bit dramatic, maybe, but it equates to this: You must be able to write honestly.

And that, I think, is the difference between books which are merely good, and those which have become classics (in whatever genre). The writers of the classics are honest; they're not fooling anyone, and least of all themselves. They respect themselves enough to dig deeply, past the pain, and find the truth - and it lights up their work and makes it shine throughout the centuries.

Of course, I could be wrong. This is just my random thought for the day. So tell me, what do you think??