Saturday, February 4, 2012

Of Blood And Honey, by Stina Leicht

Of Blood And Honey was a good book; I enjoyed the mix of fairies vs. fallen angels in the middle of the 1970s Irish/English conflict.


About two years ago, I read three books in a row that dealt with women in a manner that was insulting or hurtful to me; it gave me a strong aversion to stories with predominantly male casts, where the female characters were just there as accessories to the males - trophies, victims, dead girlfriends to provide motivation for the hero's Psychotic Mission Of Vengeance. Books where a single strong female lead might exist, only to get raped and/or killed later; books where the text says a woman is strong, but in practice she just gets kidnapped and needs rescued.

This book hits those notes. Reading this was like poking an old wound to see if it still hurts. Yep. Still hurts. It's not as enraging as it was immediately after that one-two-three punch, but it's still annoying: a good story spoiled.


  1. Did I ever tell you about the series that I literally first threw across the room, because I got so ticked off at how the main character--a girl--became complicit in and furthered her objectification? And then I actually *threw the books away* into my building's trash recycler rather than letting someone pick them up and read them. UGH.

    1. Doh! No, I don't think you did. I kind of want to avoid them myself, if you felt that strongly about it.