Wednesday, August 17, 2022

The Inheritance & Other Stories by Robin Hobb and Megan Lindholm

As a birthday present to myself, I unearthed an old Powell's gift card I had hanging around from the time I dogsat for some friends and I purchased the entire Realm of the Elderlings saga in paperback.  It's obvious to me that a reread will be happening very soon. In the meantime, I decided to read through some of the short stories in the ROTE saga and two of those stories take place in The Inheritance & Other Stories. Hobb and Lindholm are actually the same person, just different pseudonyms for different types of work. She kept it a secret that they were the same person for quite some time.  This collection contains seven short stories by the Lindholm persona and three from Hobb. 


I was just so happy to be dropped into a place where I knew the writing would just immerse me immediately. From a story about aliens arriving on Earth to a killer cat, each one enveloped me in a new world and I trusted there would always be a pay off at the end. Sure, some of these stories were stronger than others, but if you are a ROTE fan, this should definitely cross your path sooner or later. 

4.5/5 stars (I mean, I think it's brilliant, but I don't think the Hobb stories would be something I could recommend to anyone who hasn't read ROTE, so I knocked half a star off for that reason.)

Lines of note:

Beyond my agent and publishers, only two people knew the secret. One was...The other person was Duane Wilkins of University Book Store, Seattle. I'd known Duane for years at that point. He'd been instrumental in helping my career as Megan Lindholm, supporting me with signings and readings as he did many, many fledgling SF and fantasy writers in the Seattle area. One night I received a call from him. He mentioned he hadn't seen me in a while, and we talked about various forthcoming books and what he thought of them. Then he brought up Assassin's Apprentice. It was very gratifying to hear him say nice things about the book I couldn't openly acknowledge as mine. But then he proceeded to say that he could tell it wasn't a first effort by any writer. And that he had noticed some stylistic resemblances. I kept my mouth shut. But then he asked me directly, and there is no lying to old friends. (page xiv)

I thought this was a sweet story and it made me wonder if I'd be able to tell one writer from another based on "stylistic resemblances." I just don't think I'm a careful enough reader and Duane Wilkins is amazing.

That's how it would hit me; I'd be going along, doing a math page or signing out something about someone's sister or folding up my blanket or getting a drink of water, and suddenly I'd notice, all over again, that Lavender wasn't there. It always felt like someone had suddenly grabbed hold of my heart and squeezed it. (page 33)

A perfect encapsulation of grief.

I had taken the job in November, hired on in preparation for the Christmas rush, suckered in by the hope that after the New Year began I would become full-time and get better wages. It was February, and I was still getting less than thirty hours a week and only four dollars an hour. Every time I thought about it, I could feel rodents gnawing at the bottom of my heart. There is a sick despair to needing money so desperately that you can't quit the job that doesn't pay you enough to live on, the job that gives you just enough irregular hours to make job hunting for something better next to impossible. (page 63)

I feel this deeply in my heart. I am sure a lot of people living paycheck to paycheck feel it deeply, as well.

That evening I did a number of useful and necessary things...and dribbling bleach on the landing outside my apartment in the hopes it would keep the neighbor's cat away. (page 68-69)

My cat is obsessed with bleach. She is utterly uninterested in catnip, but if you clean a counter or floor with it, she will be rolling around in it in ecstasy. Putting bleach on a landing probably attracts cats, rather than repelling them. (It's not clear why some cats like bleach. There's a hypothesis that the chlorine smells a bit like cat pee and they sense that, but that's just a guess.)

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