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March through June, because I was distracted by academic due dates.

Ultraviolet (R.J. Anderson) (2011): YA fiction. Teenager must come to grips with the events that landed her in a mental institution with an accusation she killed a popular classmate.

( Mixed feelings. )

The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins) (2008): ( Meh. )

Crucible of Gold (Naomi Novik) (2012): This had far fewer problems than Tongues of Serpents. Plus, the narrative clipped along fast enough I was willing to overlook several gaping worldbuilding holes. The real treat was( character development! Spoilers by the bushel. )

So I sort of accidentally mainlined Stackpole's first four X-wing novels? And watched a season and a quarter of the Clone Wars cartoon over spring break? In that way you do, when you're jonesing for prequel movies that aren't awful. And here is the kind of hilarious thing, the X-Wing novels flunk the Betchdel so hard - Erisi Dlarit's entire plot line is Wicked Temptress! - while the Clone Wars have Aayla Secura (woman) and Ahsoka Tano (teenage girl) facing off against Asajj Ventress (evil Dark Jedi, incidentally also female) without a hint of catfight. It just sort of happened! Five minutes into an animated / CGI / whatever lightsaber battle I am thinking, "wait, these are women talking about something other than a man. Okay, there's some trash-talking Anakin and Dooku, in a completely platonic 'my master's better than your master' way." There's a thing to be said about target audiences, 1990's vs 2010's, and novels vs TV, and divergences, which doesn't fit here, sadly. I stopped watching Clones Wars when scragging the Jedi officers started sounding like a good idea, but I'm pleased to report the close proximity of women and large explosions. On the novel side, I sort of want to come down on Stackpole for dubious female characterization, but honestly, it's more like dubious characterization fill stop. Isard and Dirricote shouldn't have overlapping vocabulary / attitude registers with Vorru and Black Sun. And can someone oppose Rogue Squadron for reasons other than overwhelming corrupt ambition? Shades of gray, please?

The Bird of the River (Kage Baker) (2010): Set in the same fantasy universe as The Anvil of the World and The House of the Stag, once largely defined by your birth into the forest-loving and largely pacifist Yondri or the violent, industrial Children of the Sun. Protagonist Elissa struggles with her half-and-half brother's problems and social entanglements on the eponymous river barge. Baker's characteristic charm and humor are on display here; endings are happy, and the trip there is entertaining.

I started The Neon Court (Kate Griffin) (2011) with misgivings. The title and early chapters available online suggested it contained urban fairies and fridging. Urban fairy anything is a personal turnoff in 90% of everything I read or watch, and dead women for maximum manpain - well. So my enjoyment of Matthew's tendencies for causing mayhem and gruesome injuries (not to mention the property damage) were in serious danger of being overwhelmed by the other elements in the air. Fortunately, the series rides a fine line of having its cake and eating it too (see Ultraviolet review, above), leading to my overall enjoyment - it's not perfect! I can poke holes! But the good bits are really solid, I love the parts I love! - and incoherent reviews. So I wasn't thrilled with this installment, but I was willing to keep going with the series.

The Minority Council (Kate Griffin) (2012): In which the Midnight Mayor is scammed by his Aldermen, lies by omission to an overworked civic servant, and finds his PA unexpectedly resourceful. And Matthew Swift goes on a little crusade against drugs, with predictably explosive consequences.

Truth shot a sly glance at expediency, expediency waggled its eyes significantly, truth made a little noise in the back of its throat, and expediency jumped straight on in there.

( Spoilers. )

Lord of Light (Roger Zelazny) (1967): Jo Walton says most of what I'd say. I read it at 29 instead of childhood, but I found the extended flashback so poorly marked as to be confusing, and I have serious qualms about the Hindu/Buddhist-influenced setup. Whatever Zelazny did here that's supposed to be very clever, I'm missing it.

I finished two-thirds of The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat (Oliver Sacks) (1985) before my attention span gave out. The individual cases would make interesting elements of a newspaper column or multi-author collection, but en masse were a little too much.

City of Diamond (Jane Emerson) (1996): Reread. Originally written as the first in a space-opera-ish trilogy about the people and politics of three missionary city-ships adhering to an offshoot of Catholicism; however, it stands alone fairly well. I find it immensely satisfying comfort reading: entertaining worldbuilding, mostly likeable characters, a clear delineation of the good guys and the bad guys. The Greykey philosophy makes very little sense if one pokes too hard, and Tal's characterization has some serious "ice princess has a heart after all!" moments gives me no joy, but there are many, many components balancing these. I am willing to be charmed my every single Diamond character who is not Tal, and by Opal characters other than Arno and Hartley Quince. If the trilogy had ever been finished, oh, the problems I'd expect, but the story ends on a decently complete note if you know it's an abandoned work in progress. No one dies, there's a wedding, and there's women with autonomy, so it's a good cozy novel for days when one's brain is mostly otherwise occupied.

Numbers game: 13 total finished. 11 new, 2 reread; 12 fiction, 1 nonfiction. 1 incomplete.

Empire of Ivory (Naomi Novik / naominovik): ( Way to cliffhanger, Novik! )

Ha'Penny (Jo Walton / papersky): Remember what I was saying about writing to entertain? Walton is writing to tell an idea in story form. Her character's trucks are gonna break, their dogs will be shot, their wives will leave them. I want to say something about gender roles and Carmichael and Jack, whose PoV would probably be enlightening. Why doesn't Jack get a job too? I come from the two income household assumption, and also from the "construction workers are hot" mindset, so I may be missing the point here. Series structure note: Carmichael PoV limited 3rd past; female protagonist limited 1st epistolary. Nifty trick, since it gives you a reserved point of view, and a distorted one.

Uncle Tungsten: Memories of a Chemical Childhood (Oliver Sacks): For anyone like me, who hasn't been paying attention, Oliver Sacks is awesome. The title pretty much encapsulates the book: childhood, science, colorful twist. It's a love letter to science. Sacks talks about such and such a part of growing up - uncles, parents, the nanny, World War Two child evacuations - and then wanders off to talk about physics, or the history of chemistry. Sacks also includes many, many entertaining footnotes (he blames Mendeleev's footnotes in The Principles of Chemistry, which he writes about in terms that make me want to read it too). Sacks loves science, and is well-versed in the history of science, which he uses to lead into and out of his own childhood. Sacks had a large family, including several uncles involved in industry and applied chemistry or physics. If you think this didn't impact his life, you'd be so wrong. There's something to be said for family expectations and how they play out in your life (see also Sacks's mother arranging an introduction to human anatomy at age fourteen - because every 14 year old wants to dissect the corpse of another 14 year old). It's difficult to write a biography without saying something about the people who impacted that life, and in this case, chemistry and chemical concepts are at least as prominent as the people. Very fun biography.