Child of a Rainless Year, by Jane Lindskold

When Mira is nine, her eccentric mother disappears. No one knows who Mira’s father is, but luckily, mysterious trustees ensure that Mira is placed with loving foster parents in Ohio. Mira’s upbringing becomes more conventional, but her foster parents die when she’s in her early fifties. That’s when she learns she still owns her childhood home, back in Las Vegas, New Mexico. Mira travels back to Las Vegas to deal with the house, although she hasn’t yet decided whether to keep it. She spends her summer painting the house, learning her family history, and trying to figure out what happened to her mother. That’s when Mira learns about liminal space and her mother’s title, Mistress of Thresholds, begins to take on new meanings…

The Good: A Unique Reading Experience

Mira is a distinctive character. She’s middle-aged, which is an unusual choice by Lindskold. However, she seems an innocent in other ways, even though she supposedly gets a standard middle-class life after she’s sent to foster parents. She goes to public school, gets a university degree in Art, but choses to teach instead of trying the commercial artists life. Mira has a love of color, yet Lindskold manages to make her post-university life colorless. Her life outside of New Mexico barely fills two chapters, but covers over forty years. Lindskold gets Mira back to her childhood house quickly, almost making that “outside” time seem irrelevant. Yet it’s her foster mother’s diary that helps Mira puzzle out mysteries in her past, and it’s her foster mother’s influence that gives her strength when she needs it.

Another uniqueness: the choice of Las Vegas, NM, as the setting, which Lindskold wraps in rich description. If you like NM as I do, having lived in Albuquerque in the past, then you’ll enjoy Lindskold’s book. The book is also filled with historical tidbits and it’s always great when you can learn something while reading fiction.

Even though I complain about the focus and cohesion in this book (see following section), I’d still read this book again. I love the way the story unfolds and the clues are dropped, particularly through Mira’s foster mother’s diary. And, since I miss NM, I enjoy the rambling descriptions, even if I sometimes felt like I was reading a travel magazine.

The Bad: Vague Magic and Fuzzy Conclusion

As in many contemporary fantasies, the magic in this novel is “quiet” and enmeshed in the setting. The house plays a central role, as does the town of Las Vegas and its location. However, I would have liked a more focused approach to the magic—or at least better definition. First, there’s liminal space, made accessible through Mira’s inherent capabilities, her mother’s many mirrors, the house’s power, and the house’s geographical position. Of course, one could expect a vagueness when the magic is based upon thresholds and what’s “between” space and time. Secondly, Lindskold also ties her magic to color. I liked what she tried to do here, but she fell short of my expectations (in her theory and her descriptions). But, she also vaguely ties the magic to water, a precious commodity in the southwest. Hence the title. However, this seems “expected” for a southwestern setting and the magic is getting muddy. Adding to this mishmash are Mira’s ability to talk to ghosts, a magical competitor to the house, the “silent women” who are provided by the house, etc. Magic happens here and there, characters try to explain it (sometimes tediously), but little makes sense or fits the supposed motives.

***Caution: possible spoilers ahead***

While Lindskold spins this magic system with charming and lilting language, the lack of definition affects the plot and diminishes the climax. In Mira’s face-off with the antagonist, she’s not sure about the final result (whether the antagonist was “dissolved” or “carried to a realm of the gods”). Given Mira’s doubts, the reader can’t make any conclusions either. On the other hand, one could argue that what happens to an antagonist isn’t that important as long as they never come back.

However, this vagueness continues, leaving the reader fuzzy regarding the final state of Mira’s world. Even the characters aren’t sure what happened. In a concluding scene, a ghost says, “I thought something big had happened. Everything feels different.” To which, Mira answers, “Somehow I broke whatever made [the house] divert liminality. It doesn’t work in the fashion [So-and-so] intended anymore. It’s still an unpredictable place…” Unfortunately, without a definitive idea of what had changed in the world, I didn’t feel very satisfied at the end of the story.

Granted, this was a character-based novel (meaning character changes and character decisions aren’t driven by plot). But certain story threads are dropped on the floor in an “uncharacteristic” fashion. An important character, who is close to Mira, is suspected of arson. These suspicions are related to Mira, who thinks it over for several paragraphs and then pushes the issue aside. The suspicions/accusations are never addressed again, which doesn’t fit Mira’s character and isn’t very satisfying to the reader. Secondary characters walk in and out of the story, seeming to have little effect upon Mira or the mystery of her mother’s disappearance. Mira’s mentor (for magic) arrives late in the story. He packs up and leaves after the climax, without any expression of his feelings regarding the conclusion. I couldn’t figure out what Mira thought of him or whether she appreciated his help.

I, personally, would have been more satisfied if some of these threads had been tied off. But even with these flaws, as I said above, I would probably read this book again.

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