I have turned the last page of my paperback book and heard the music chiming claiming the last dulcet sounds of Ralph Lister's voice as the audiobook comes to a close and what an amazing and fascinating journey that was!

I will not tell you the story's summary for how could I? It is not something to summarize with ease, especially as I find myself unable to do so with any fluidity or veracity. I am not a Christian, nor do I have a Classicist background, nor much do I know of Latin or even the story of Prester John. But I can tell you that this story has piqued my interest and I want to go searching up more before I can get my grubby little paws on the second volume, The Folded World.

What I can tell you is that I started this trek with the audiobook and realized that I just could not follow it proficiently. I was losing chapters, characters, unable to process what was being said. I am not much of an audiobook listener so this was a little test I set for myself and I found myself ultimately failing at it. I went out and bought the paperback. With the paperback sitting in front of my eyes and starting at the beginning once more I found myself immersed in the story as I never could have been with only my hearing engaged. I must profess that I am far too much of a visual learner that if I don't already know the story I have a hard time following it. I also think that if you are not even a little familiar with this book you, too, might have difficulties with the audio version.

The main thing to realize is that the chapters are divided into three parts as Hiob von Luzern follows three separate stories that become more and more intertwined: The World in the Quince (Prester John), The Book of the Fountain (following the story of Hagia, who became Prester John's wife), and The Scarlet Nursery (Imtithal's tale as a nursemaid to a young prince and two princesses) with asides from Hiob as he meticulously copies the books he plucked from that miraculous apple tree.

Once I had the story lines set out for me I followed easily enough the audiobook and I must admit that at first I was a little wary of Ralph Lister (this could be due in part to my general reticence for audiobooks) but his was the voice of this story and I find myself increasingly looking forward to his unique interpretations of each character that graced the books pages in audio format. I found I enjoyed his deep, smooth voice and I almost feel it necessary to continue on in this format for the next book; I found myself enjoying and savoring the slow pace set for me. I admit that I am very much a speed reader and if I like a book I will zip through it in a day or less but because I had to set aside time to listen to the audiobook while following along in my own paperback version it took far more time to finish but also gave me the leisure to wonder where this tale would go, how would the characters interact, what would happen next?? And I admit that was a very nice feeling and quite relaxing at the same time.

I very much liked this book, even if I am still missing some of the historical background on this piece, but it was not enough of a hindrance that I feel left out at all. And, actually, I'm already itching for the tale to continue and am anticipating picking up the new book - and audiobook as well for I fear that I will be hearing Mr. Lister's voice in my head whether or not I have the audiobook so I might as well pick that up, too, and continue this journey forward one slow page at a time.

This book in insidious. It didn't feel like much when I finished it, but its stories have been rotting in my brain. Like a holy book dissolving into nectar and pulp in your hands, so do these stories grow glittering mold in your brain. I can't stop thinking about blemmye anatomy and multicolored lions and fog so thick you have to dig through it and how awesome and awful is a tree sprouting the head of St. Thomas on a snowy mountainside and seas made of sand and what feeding on sounds feels like and the bittersweet joys of cannibalism.

Catherynne Valente floors me to be honest, she has one of the richest most imaginative minds of any writer I've come across. This book is not as lyrically rich as some of her others, but the world she has created (or rather, fleshed out from medieval myth) is achingly entrancing, full of beauty and melancholy. Dirge is an appropriate name for these tales - there is a deep sadness to behold here. Particularly the grief of loss: lost lovers, lost memories, lost families and friends, lost stories, lost homelands, and lost beliefs.

I will add that this book is very much an opening act. It was hard to get through sometimes because there is not much in terms of momentum and it's very unclear where the story is even going. Nonetheless, the book is true to its premise as a series of insanely tantalizing remnants of a larger story. The beauty of this book is the unknowing, the mystery - the gaps in the stories as sometimes the most entrancing parts. The blessing is that we were lucky enough to get even a small glimpse.

Rich, decadent prose filled with lush descriptions of things magical and mundane. I loved it!

"That is the purpose of stories, that no matter where we walk in the world, we walk twice."
- Catherynne Valente

There are very few authors who inspire me to note quotes while I'm reading. Catherynne Valente is one of them. And this is the one that made me stop, write it down, then continue, because it speaks so strongly to my experience as a reader, and to how my life has been formed and enriched by books.

Note: The rest of this review has been withdrawn due to the changes in Goodreads policy and enforcement. You can read why I came to this decision here.

In the meantime, you can read the entire review at Smorgasbook

I originally posted this review as a guest on Elfy's blog "Travels Through Iest" when the book came out. For more exposure, I'm going to copy/paste my review here. On the same note: Elfy hosts a great variety of book-reviews, so if you are interested ...

----- Review: ----

Let me start with the superficial: this is a very well made book. The cover art actually matches the contents. The book is made of thick, very smooth paper, that feels soft to the touch. The edges are crafted to look as if the pages have been ripped out of another spine (or are they on the verge of decaying? Read on to understand the origin of this question) - and the ink does not smear. Night Shade Books put some effort into the appearance, which is pleasing to the eyes and fingers of the reader from the first touch.

When I started to read, I needed more than 2 hours for the first 30 pages and suddenly became aware, that I was not enjoying this: I kept looking for hidden meanings, foreshadowings, prohecies, intrigue and it then became clear to me, that I have been doing this all wrong. So back to page 1 - reboot - and just relax, let Mrs Valente (yes, she's married now) take the lead and just enjoy the ride she's about to take you on.
And what a ride it was.

The Habitation of the Blessed describes the end of Hiob's journey, sent out by his church to follow the Indus to it's source, bringing back news of riches for the church to exploit, preferably the hidden kingdom of Prester John - and while at it, do some missionary work - in the form of Hiob's written confession, dated 1699.

In a village in the province of Lavapuri, Hiob's dwindling party finds the first word to their goal. A woman takes Hiob to a tree on which grow books. He is allowed to pick three. He spends the following day(s) and night(s) reading them in turn, translating and transcribing them. Soon he learns, that the books are decaying rapidly, like fruit - which leads him into a reading frenzy.

The first book contains the story of John, the last letter of who in 1165 details his 'kingdom`, thusly leading to Hiob's expedition; chronicled by his wife Hagia, a blemmye (a people that have their faces on their chests).

The second book tells Hagia's own story.

The third covers the tale of Imthithal, a Panoti (a people with very large, white ears), nurse to the royal children.

All three interweave in the history of John reaching Pentexore after having crossed a sea of sand, the Rimal in a powerful prose - every word just so - spilling out an overflow of imagination that borders on madness, sweeping you along to the point where you start eating that damn Mango you had lying around for a couple of days, only to realise that the smell that has been disturbing you for a while wasn't from your fruit - it was her's, the written ones, slowly decaying.

The beauty of Mrs Valente's writing defies being put in words. Strand for delicate strand she unravels belief, religion and the benefits of life eternal in slow, moving sentences - almost poetry. Here's an artist, the likes of which we are not going to see anytime soon again.

This volume ends with all three of the books already rotten to mush. It leaves you wanting more, and soon. According to Mrs Valente, her husband checked her into a hotel somewhere in the wilderness of Maine, so she was closeted to wrestle this beast down. He might have to do so again - well, I certainly wish both of them all the best - but if it takes a little isolation for Mrs Valente, so I can lay may hands on the next volume - I'm not going to stop her husband.

Wonderful and magical alternate-history-ish fantasy novel. I only wish the different characters had different voices to distinguish them from one another; perhaps Valente's greatest strength is her authorial voice, but here she would have done well to vary it a bit. Do you like gorgeous writing and fantastic settings and creatures? Then you'll love this book.

by Catherynne M . Valente

Though there are several important excerpts at the beginning of the book, I decided to use the opening line from the first chunk of narrative: "I am a very bad historian. But I am a very good miserable old man."

I've been a fan of Valente's short fiction for a year or two now, and loved The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland. And actually, I was searching the library catalog to see if they had Deathless listed at all, because Russian fairytales are love, when I saw this one.

One of Valente's trademarks is her lush prose, and this book was no exception. At the same time, though I was constantly caught by the images, the repetition, and the glorious flow of words, I didn't feel as if the style had take over the substance. This is a fascinating story of what-if: what if Prester John were real? what if a group of monks set off to find him in his deathless land?

I've admitted many times in the past to having problems with multiple character narrations. However neat they sound in theory, I've often found that they slow down the pace of the book excruciatingly, and that the characters are usually not sufficiently differentiated. This book suffers from neither of those problems. The story clips right along, possibly a result of its excerpting* structure, and the different voices who make up the body of the text are all fantastically different.

Though I'm both an Orthodox and an orthodox Christian, the theology of the book didn't bother me. I never felt as though its suggestions were made to be titillating or shocking. In a way it's hard for me to define, I felt as if it was both sincere and respectful. This might be different for others, and I admittedly will swallow all sorts of things as long as they're well written. Also, I think Valente has a better grasp of Nestorianism than most people who attempt to write about it.

Hiob might be my favorite narrator, but I enjoyed them all, even John.

I'm about to go all English-majory for a moment, so please excuse me in advance. But one of the things I loved about this book was that whatever cohesive narrative you create from it is a creation. Because all of the narrations are first-person and therefore inherent personal and unreliable, they are none of them true, and yet together they create a sort of truth. Perhaps it's the post-modernist in me, but I love this.

* Awkward, but sounded so much better than excerptatory, which is probably more correct and terrible English.

Catherynne Valente, previously:
Fairyland, briefly, twice