Jessica McHugh

I should get it out of the way right from the start: I love Jessica McHugh’s writing style. I love it for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that she doesn’t talk down to her readers. She doesn’t dumb down her vocabulary and she isn’t afraid to make you think. McHugh’s writing is exceptional on its own; when you read it with a dictionary and an encyclopedia on hand, you actually learn. And, even more amazingly, you enjoy it.

Song of Eidolons is an exceptional novel. It show more weaves together folklore, fairy tales, myths, fantasy, and paranormal elements into one seamless journey in prose. It jumps back and forth in time, and you’re with the story every step of the way. McHugh has a way of whirling you around what could be a chaotic and confusing story while never letting you fall or get lost in the tale.

The characters in Song of Eidolons are thoroughly developed, and McHugh creates voices for them so strong and individual that dialogue tags are almost unnecessary to know who is speaking. We care intensely for her protagonists–agonize with them, cheer for them, want to see them fall, root them on to the win. Delaney, the primary character, goes through a magnificent transformation and realization, and we’re right there with her, shocked at her discoveries, frustrated at her inabilities, frightened at her past and her future. She grows, becomes stronger, finds her voice as the story goes on–and we’re enthralled, cheering her on every step of the way. Secondary characters are just as thoroughly developed, giving Eidolons almost a soap opera-like feel, not in scope but in impact–you know these people, you’ve been watching them for years, you wait expectantly for their next move, and then cheer (or boo, as the case may be) when they take action.

The villain is deliciously villainous, the heroes and heroines delightfully heroic. Everyone else falls into place like an exquisite game of Tetris that you always–always–win.

McHugh wields her pen exceptionally well when it comes to descriptions, painting a crystal-clear picture of locations, feelings, wardrobes, and thoughts. We can picture exactly where we are at every moment in the story, yet the narrative, like a well-made soufflé, never feels heavy. The descriptions add to the tale, rather than detract from the action. We go from Delaney’s grandfather’s house to the Scottish moors to the English countryside to Rome–and with every change of venue, we feel the cozy smell of built-in bookshelves, the frigid Scot wind, the overcast scent of Briton fields, the uneven cobbles of Italian streets. We feel–not merely read–the characters’ betrayals, excitements, frustrations, disbelief.

When the action is taking place, it moves at breakneck speed–yet still manages to build suspense and tension, and deliver a thoroughly satisfying denouement.

Putting Eidolons down is not an option except to sleep; you will want to reunite with your old friends as soon as chance allows.

It takes a special kind of author to draw readers in so intensely that they emerge from the tale exhausted and drained, yet almost unbearably pleased. That’s exactly what McHugh has done with Song of Eidolons. It is a job exceptionally well done. show less

This review was first published on scifiandscary.com - I received a free review copy from the publisher

I think ‘The Maiden Voyage and Other Departures’ might be the most original book I’ve read this year. I’m certainly struggling to think of one that is infused with such bravely original ideas. Those ideas aren’t just included within the stories in this collection, the whole structure McHugh has chosen is fresh and different. Rather than just being a collection of short stories, show more the book is a series of tales set in the same unique universe with subtle and not so subtle ties between them. As a result, McHugh has created something that’s halfway between a novel and a short story collection. The book is rich and satisfying as a result.
The alternative universe of ‘The Maiden Voyage and Other Departures’ grabbed and intrigued me from the first page. It’s unusual, original and beguilingly crazy, an early twentieth century world where humans and bizarre human/insect hybrids that can pass as human co-exist. The world is recognisable in many respects, with historical events and figures like the sinking of the Titanic and the Wright brothers. But it’s also a world where the predominant material is jellyglass, a wonder substance made from pollen. A world where pollen poachers compete with hives populated with apisthropes (bee/human hyrbirds) and run like corporations by their ruthless queens.
I’ve said before that I think that much great sci fi takes a simple “what if” question and then runs with it. Sci fi should be brave enough to start with a crazy idea and then take it as fact, exploring the scientific, social and emotional aspects of it. That’s exactly what McHugh does here. She gets fully into the economic and socio-political questions that her hypothesis raises. If the most desired material in the world was naturally produced by human-like creatures, how would they be treated? She also explores, in a couple of memorable scenes, what apisthrope and human/apisthrope sex might be like.
All of these fascinating ideas are relayed through a series of stories, that are exciting, amusing and sometimes horrifying. The stories often have connections to each other, either through events or characters. This really helps build the sense that they are set in a consistent universe. Despite the bizarre nature of the core concept, this makes the stories believable. The fact that they are populated with memorable and credible characters helps enormously.
McHugh has written an extremely enjoyable and imaginative book. She packs the stories with enough action, intrigue and romance to satisfy anyone. At times, in fact, the book reads like a wonderful pulp adventure tale from the 1930s. Beneath that fun veneer there’s a brain and a heart and that lifts this collection above a lot of things I’ve read lately. show less

This really wasn't a great book, but it wasn't bad, either. The problem is that there were too many loose ends that didn't add up that would never have gotten a twelve year old convicted of murdering over a dozen people since the age of four. Plus, hanging bodies for six years in a hidden basement didn't stink? It was too unbelievable, even for the fifties, that there would not have been some questions regarding how a four year old was supposed to have killed a grown man by stabbing him in show more the throat with shears and then hanging him up.

Regardless, it was good as far a characterizations go. Avery was a sympathetic protagonist, the nurses and doctors decidedly evil, the mother, Faye, was crazy as hell, and everyone else was blindingly following after. Still, not good enough to get above two stars, and it barely got to that. I did finish it, though, which is why I didn't give it one star. It at least kept me reading. show less

What a wonderful book of poetry on grief. Charming grief. (It makes sense to me.)
I had NEVER heard of blackout poetry and now I’m going to try my hand at it. Looks hard, but fun.

Even the poems I didn’t fully grasp I read over and over just because of the way the words sounded together. Sometimes I’m not that smart and that’s okay.

I need to seek out more of this author’s work for sure.

4 stars

I received this book as a @librarything.com Early Reviewer.