Hi, friends,
Snow day! I’m usually at the library on Saturdays, but pretty much all of Southern Maine has shut down today due to us getting a hilariously big snow—we’re in the area that’s predicted to get the most, somewhere in the 12-18 inches range?
The power has blinked a few times, and we’re assuming that it won’t be all that much longer before it goes out. We’ve got plenty of firewood so we’ll stay toasty, and we’ve got lots of snacks and lots of books, so we’ll stay entertained. We’re very aware of how lucky we are—even up here where they’re to be expected, storms like this are hard on a lot of folks.
Yesterday, I decided to take a spin through our state’s digital comics library, and when I spotted Fence, I remembered really enjoying it way back when it first launched.
And clearly I still enjoy it, because I blew through all four available volumes. Did I jump online to place an interlibrary loan request for the fifth volume, which is sadly and annoyingly not in the digital library? You betcha. Did I also log into the library’s book distributor and order all five volumes for our YA comics collection? SURE DID.
It’s a sports story about fencing, starring a poor kid on an athletic scholarship to a private boys’ school—a scholarship contingent on him making the varsity fencing team… as a freshman. He ends up rooming with one of the best youth fencers in the world. A fencer who is arrogant, driven, dismissive, and very much not a team player... but it’s clear right from the beginning that there are sparks.
So, yes: It’s not just a sports story, it’s also a slow burn enemies-to-lovers romance, AND BONUS, there are at least a couple of slow burn secondary romances to boot. And when I say slow burn, I MEAN IT. I’m four volumes in, and nothing beyond blushing, longing looks, and more blushing. It’s great.
Also, the fencing scenes are FULL of innuendo—or, at least, what can be read as innuendo if you so choose, heh. It’s clever enough that it works as commentary on/depiction of the matches as WELL as showcasing the complexity of our heroes’ underlying feelings. It’s unreservedly, unabashedly, cheerfully queer, with nary a homophobe in sight—such a welcome break from reality.
Also reading: The Wall, by Mary Roberts Rinehart
Did I pick this up because of Anastasia Krupnik? MAYBE.
[ONE HOUR POWER OUTAGE ENSUES]
Welp, I’d better send this out sooner than later—it’s still snowing and the power very well might go out again.
On the Mary Roberts Rinehart front—due to the power outage, I’m a good 60 pages in rather than on page 2, which is where I was when I started writing this—suffice to say, 12-year-old Leila would TOTALLY have enjoyed this. The vibes are like… if Agatha Christie and V.C. Andrews had a great-niece?
Like, a mystery novel with very light Gothic flavor: so far, it’s the literary equivalent of an “impoverished” rich lady—she can only afford, like, four servants—wearing gauzy clothing and sitting in the sun and putting her hand to her forehead and saying, “Oh woe, woe, if I had but known then what I know now. Now I shall soothe my troubled heart with a horseback ride, some sherry, and perhaps a round of golf.”
I’m only exaggerating a little bit? It is VERY Wonderfully Dramatical:
Standing there, tall and slim and smiling, her hair freshly waved, and inspecting herself. Eying her complexion closely in the strong sunset light, and giving a nod of approval. And all the time, as the clock on the mantel ticked on, her span of life growing shorter. The sands in the glass running out.
Ten percent of my brain is saying, OMG Mary Roberts Rinehart, calm down. But the other ninety percent is saying, YES YES MORE PLEASE.
Hope you’re having a lovely Saturday,
Leila
Currently Reading #4