I’ve read about ten books in between reading Sarah Monette’s Mélusine and it’s sequel The Virtu, so it hardly seems fair that I’m reviewing The Virtu and none of those others.  Regardless, that’s exactly what’s happening.

And let me explain why.  There are two types of good books:  There are the books that are so good that you read them as quickly as you can, because you’ve got to find out what happens next, and you forgo all sorts of necessities like sleeping or eating while you do so.

And then there are the books that you like so very much that while you certainly could read it cover to cover in a span of hours, you don’t.  Instead, you force yourself to take breaks, force yourself to put it down, even though a part of you loathes you for doing so.  Yet you put it down regardless, because you know that if you don’t, you will read it to its end, and it will be done, and you will be sad.

These are the books that you want to savour, even if your willpower for savouring and not ploughing further into the book only lasts an hour at best.

This latter type of good book was what Mélusine was, so it should hardly surprise me that The Virtu  is as well.  Yet that’s the nature of sequels, isn’t it?  You loved the first one, so you know you simply must explore the second one — but at the same time, you fear that the second one will be a letdown.  And let’s be honest:  They often are.

Fortunately, The Virtu was anything but a letdown – it was at least as good as Mélusine, and while I can’t quite bring myself to say it was better, since I truly adore Malkar, a character  much more prominent in the first book, it might have been.

Monette’s beautifully created world impressed me no less this time than it did when I read Mélusine,  and I was eager to learn more about the world (and being a classics nerd, became giddy when I could see where she drew her inspiration from, and curious beyond all reason when I could not.  I shall never forgive myself for not buying that book on the history and mythology of Labyrinths that i saw in Kelowna.)  As well, I was pleased to see the return of some of my favourite characters – Gideon, to name but one – as well as the introduction of new and delightful characters, characters who came from all manner of places within the world, so that even if the main characters – Felix and Mildmay – did not venture to those lands, we gain some concept of the wider world of the story, something which makes the story much more real.

Monette’s writing style is nothing short of a pleasure to read, her terminology varied while appearing effortless, the metaphors she has her characters use often making me burst out laughing.   The switching between perspectives gets points across without having unnatural expository scenes, and allows us to better understand not only the whole of the story, but why characters react the way they do.

Mildmay’s vantage I particularly enjoyed, I could hardly stop grinning from ear ear to ear when I read his scenes; gruff and full of slang, but inherently intelligent and often humorous, I’ve no doubt that Mildmay is the reason that my cheeks hurt like a damn by the time I was done the book.

Monette herself has been a scholar, and it shows in her writing.  Or perhaps more accurately, it shows in her characters; most notably in Felix and his circle.   This is not a criticism, but rather, a compliment.  Monette understands what drives scholars (a variety of things, to be sure) and how they think.  This may not sound like much of a feat, but I assure you that it is.  Many authors write scholars as backwards social misfits (not that they cannot be, but they are not JUST that) or they write them as teachers, in the high school sense of the word. (Not that teachers cannot be scholars, and certainly not that scholars are not often teachers, but the two are not interchangable.)  There is a love for learning that scholars have, even if they have other motives as well, and Monette writes that love to a tee.

But I’ll avoid talking about any more details.  After all, I don’t want to spoil the book.  (One of my only complaints is that the blurb on the back did spoil the book, a little.  I really must learn not to read those, if it’s not the first book in a series.)    The Virtu flows smoothly from Mélusine, and I eagerly await the third book in the series The Mirador, which will be available in four days time.

Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go read the first four chapters of The Mirador, which are available on Ms. Monette’s website.

Cheers, all!