Series Saturday: CHEFS OF THE FIVE GODS

This is a blog series about … well, series. I love stories that continue across volumes, in whatever form: linked short stories, novels, novellas, television, movies, comics.

cover designs by Philip Pascuzzo

Chefs of the Five Gods duology

Written by Beth Cato

published by 47 North (2023 – 2024)

Titles:

·       A Thousand Recipes for Revenge (2023)

·       A Feast for Starving Stone (2024)

“Chefs of the Five Gods,” Beth Cato’s recent fantasy duology, features intriguing world-building, complicated characters, and strong commentary on how something being a cultural norm or tradition doesn’t necessarily mean it’s morally correct.

The world itself is politically and geographically based on Western Europe in the pre-Colonial period. At the start of book one, A Thousand Recipes for Revenge, Solenn, a princess of Braiz (essentially coastal northern France as its own country) has been promised in marriage to a prince of Verdania (the larger, more landlocked portion of France). Thanks to recent events (including the virtual destruction of Braiz’s once powerful navy), Verdania is a more politically and militarily powerful nation than Braiz. Braiz needs the ally, given its geographic position between Verdania and the equally powerful and antagonistic island nation of Albion, a constant threat. Accompanied to Verdania’s capitol city by only a small handful of musketeers led by her father’s closest friend and her mentor, Erwan Corre, Solenn must navigate the politics of a foreign nation and the burgeoning of a power she didn’t know she had: she’s a Chef.

In this world, ingredients called epicurea, derived from certain animals and plants, hold magic. Foods cooked with epicurea do everything from enhancing stamina and erasing wrinkles to making voices louder and more sonorous … and being used as sometimes-undetectable poisons. People who can empathically sense epicurea are called Chefs, and in Verdania and Albion they are conscripted into service of the government. Especially empathetic Chefs can even sense the aromas and flavors of ordinary ingredients and can perfectly pair epicurean and non-epicurean ingredients to create unforgettable meals. Ada Garland is a rogue Chef, on the run from service to Verdania’s ruthless king and separated from the love of her life, a Braizian musketeer named Erwan Corre. When Ada is attacked by employees of a man she sent to prison many years earlier, she is put on a path that will inevitably lead her to the daughter she sent away with Erwan for safety’s sake: Solenn.

The combination of a volatile political situation and a magic that only certain people can wield is a potent one. Throw in two strong female leads and a diverse supporting cast, all with their own secrets, and you have a fast-moving, often surprising pair of books that I highly recommend.

Solenn has no idea that Erwan and Ada are her parents, so learning she’s a Chef (as she senses poison in a meal being served to her soon-to-be husband) is a shock that leads to the reveal of her parentage. These early scenes with Solenn establish who she is so clearly: strong-willed, intelligent, but still afraid of being alone once she’s married in a court of enemies. She is not happy about being a political tool, but she loves her country too much to shirk what she perceives as her duty. Learning that she is in fact not the child of the parents who raised her, learning that she is in fact “gifted” with a talent she’s only seen others possess, learning that there’s a plot to kill her betrothed … all of this turns her world upside down, but doesn’t deter her from doing what she knows is the right thing.

Solenn’s scenes alternate with Ada’s which almost from the start are more action-packed (arrests, chases, and attacks) but are equally informative about who Ada is: strong-willed, intelligent, well-trained in sword and gun and hand-to-hand combat, afraid of the toll being on the run has taken on her beloved grandmother, also a rogue Chef. She loves the ability she possesses, hates having to create less-than-perfect meals to serve customers at the Inn where she works so that no one will suspect she’s a rogue Chef. She is devoted to her grandmother, to the friends she served with, to the memory of her marriage to Erwan Corre, annulled by edict of Verdania’s king (which forced her to send her infant daughter away). Both women would do anything, risk anything, for the people they love – and throughout the duology they do just that.

Mother and Daughter’s paths slowly converge over the course of the first book, as the true magical origins of epicurea add another layer of intrigue and several of the Five Gods become personally involved in the events. A Thousand Recipes for Revenge wraps up its major plot points before the book’s denouement, but not everyone emerges completely unscathed … and everything escalates in book two, A Feast for Starving Stone. Albionish machinations in book one lead to outright war in book two as Solenn finds herself in a new role, creating an alliance between Braiz and the previously unknown magical world to save Braiz from being overwhelmed by larger and more powerful enemies attacking from both sides.

A large portion of A Thousand Recipes for Revenge is devoted to the political intrigues surrounding Solenn and the revelations of why Ada went rogue (and how that reason is coming back to threaten her), making the book a delightful slow boil of alternating viewpoints, keeping the reader wondering how and when Ada’s and Solenn’s stories will converge. The reveal of the mother-daughter connection comes early, which enabled me to enjoy picking out how similar, and how different, the two women are without too much time spent on wondering why they are so similar. (I should admit here that I received a print ARC of the book and because I’m such a Beth Cato fan, I dove right in without reading the back cover copy, where the relationship is revealed in the first paragraph.) As noted above, they are both strong women who love their families and would do anything to protect the people they love – even if that means facing fatal danger. But where Solenn also loved her country, Ada is jaded and embittered against hers (for good reason), and this difference in political fealty affects the decisions each makes, which in turn propels the narrative. I hope you can tell how much I love, and feel for, both characters.

I also really enjoyed the supporting cast. Not just Erwan Corre, who is a wonderfully relaxed yet dangerous man, but also the sweet but mysterious Aveyron Silvacane and his father Brillat; Ada’s beloved Grand-Mere, suffering from dementia; Ada’s friend and former fellow soldier Emone and her wife Claudette; and others I loath to identify in fear of spoiling some major plot twists/reveals.

While Thousand Recipes focuses very much on behind-the-scenes political machinations and spycraft before moving into a deadly battle, A Feast for Starving Stone’s opening chapter makes it clear that war is no longer imminent, it is here – and Braiz is caught in a pincer between Albion and Verdania. Solenn and Ada again find themselves on separate quests to protect the people they love, again at great personal peril, and again caught up in the games several of the Five Gods seem to be playing with humanity and with each other. Starving Stone is a much faster paced, blatantly action filled than Thousand Recipes, which puts the books in interesting counterpoint to each other, just as Solenn and Ada counterpoint but complement each other. There is much more bloodshed in Starving Stone but there is also emotional healing and bonding. The book has a lot to say about how we heal from trauma, and how we sometimes come to forgiveness and understanding for those who have harmed us. (Solenn in particular has a painfully beautiful arc regarding this.)

Throughout both books, it is clear that all of these countries regard epicurea as a tool, drawn from animals who are not as important as the humans in control of the world. Many of these animals are hunted to near extinction or bred in horrible circumstances, the plants overharvested. While I am not a vegetarian or vegan, I recognize the parallels between the epicurea of Cato’s world and the hunting, cruel breeding/raising, and overharvesting that happens in our own. As mentioned earlier, Cato makes a persuasive case that just because something is an ingrained cultural institution doesn’t mean it is the morally correct or empathetic thing to do. But we’ve all seen in our own world how hard it is to get people to change from “the way it’s always been” to “a way that is more caring,” and the characters in this duology struggle with what will be a massive cultural shift.

“Chefs of the Five Gods” is currently billed as a duology, and the second book ends on a satisfying note with all the major plotlines tied up, but I really hope Cato will return to this world. It feels like there’s still plenty to explore both in where the characters will go (I totally ship Solenn and Aveyron, by the way. If I wrote fanfiction…) and in the shifts in politics and culture that the reveal of the truth about epicurea should bring about. Still, for now the story is done and I cannot recommend highly enough that fantasy fans seek out A Thousand Recipes for Revenge and A Feast for Starving Stone.

I’ve also featured Beth Cato’s Blood of Earth trilogy on Series Saturday. You can find that post HERE. And I’ve reviewed several of her short stories. Those reviews can be found HERE.

Sunday Shorts: Two by Beth Cato

Sunday Shorts is a series where I blog about short fiction – from flash to novellas. For the time being, I’m sticking to prose, although it’s been suggested I could expand this feature to include single episodes of anthology television series like The Twilight Zone or individual stories/issues of anthology comics (like the 1970s DC horror or war anthology titles). So anything is possible. But for now, the focus is on short stories.

Recently on Facebook, I commented that Beth Cato is one of those authors who expertly breaks this reader’s heart on a regular basis, and yet I constantly go back for me. This was precipitated by reading two of Cato’s stories almost back-to-back, one a recent publication and one a reprint. Both stories are about struggling with the impending loss of a loved one, making hard decisions about whether it’s better to try to delay the inevitable or give in to it, and about what good may come, in time, from such a loss.

“Perilous Blooms” (Daily Science Fiction, May 26, 2020) takes place in a world where super-abilities are just common enough to be taken advantage of by a government that only wishes to remain in power. People who develop these extra abilities are corralled up, shipped off to war off-planet. The narrator of the story, a grandmother now, lost her own mother in such a way. We realize very quickly that she has reason to fear losing her very young grand-daughter the same way. Mother and grand-daughter are both struggling with the impending death of the woman who connects them. Grand-daughter thinks she can heal her mother, keep her from dying. Part of grandmother wishes this could be true, but most of her hopes her grand-daughter is just imagining the ability as a way of coping with the fact that her mother is dying. I won’t spoil the outcome, as I think the spooling out of what is true and what is imagined is part of what makes the story so heartbreaking. Cato keeps the POV very tight, gives us no more world-building than is absolutely necessary to understand the narrator’s quandary and the threat to the grand-daughter in a world where even pretending to have a super-ability is enough to get you snatched up by the authorities.

“The Sweetness of Bitter” first appeared in Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show’s September 2013 issue and will be reprinted in an upcoming anthology I had the pleasure of proofreading. The setting is post-apocalyptic: what the apocalypse was is vague, but there’s little in the way of electricity, communities are barren, and what people the main character encounters are distrustful of strangers. The main character, Margo, and her daughter, Tara, are making their way towards a facility Margo hopes will stop her daughter from dying a second death. Second, because we learn very quickly that this daughter is a “sim,” an android recreation of the daughter she’s already lost once to leukemia. In the days before the collapse of society, repairing sims was fairly easy. But now, Margo’s only hope is a headquarters of the company that made the sims in the first place. The signs of Tara’s impending system failure become more apparent as the story progresses and the two encounter unexpected roadblocks. Those roadblocks made the story even more poignant to me, made me feel Margo’s anguish at yet another delay in healing her daughter. Backstory (where is Tara’s father? what else has Margo tried before getting to this point) are sketched in as the story progresses as well.

Back in December 2004 through February 2005, I was primary caregiver for my mother, who was slowly finally succumbing to the cancer she’d been fighting for the previous four years. In restrospect, the end was more apparent in December and even early January than I wanted to see – in fact, it was probably more apparent months earlier than any of us, even her doctors, wanted to admit. I see that struggle of mine to accept the inevitable, to make peace with it and start deciding what positives could come from her passing (for instance, we caught my own colon cancer just seven months later thanks in part to me “listening to my body” in a way my parents hadn’t), reflected in the main characters of these two stories. Neither of them wants their daughter to die. Neither of them wants the world to be the way it is. But both also find strength, to do what needs to be done (for me, that need was to acquiesce to my mother’s wishes to die at home surrounded by loved ones instead of in a hospital). There is hope even in their despondency.

And that is why I say that Beth Cato, especially in her short fiction, has the ability to rip a reader’s heart out and yet keep us coming back for more. In the past few years, largely due to her Blood of Earth trilogy, she has become one of my favorite writers.

SERIES SATURDAY: Beth Cato's Blood of Earth Trilogy

This is the first of a new series of posts about … well, series. I do so love stories that continue across volumes, in whatever form: linked short stories, novels, novellas, television, movies. I’ve already got a list of series I’ve recently read, re-read, watched, or re-watched that I plan to blog about. I might even, down the line, open myself up to letting other people suggest titles I should read/watch and then comment on.

For this inaugural edition, I’m going to ramble on a bit about a recently-concluded trilogy which I absolutely loved:  Beth Cato’s Blood of Earth Trilogy.

The Blood of Earth trilogy is a magic-infused alternate history with steampunk trappings. The setting is various cities in the western United States, plus a short jaunt to Hawaii at a pivotal moment. It is 1906, just before the great San Francisco Earthquake. The United States and Japan have formed a powerful alliance called the Unified Pacific. China has been subjugated by Japan while Chinese in America are ghettoized, stereotyped, and removed from all chances at equal opportunities. Tensions along the western seaboard are mounting as Chinese residents are treated with less and less humanity – at the same time that the Unified Pacific also seems to be having political disagreements with the British (who have their own insurrection going on) and Russians (who are moving to control the Alaskan oil market).

Kermanite, a mined ore that can hold earth-generated magical energy for later use, is the “power behind the throne.” It’s used to power items small and great, allowing this alternate Earth to have flying ships and weapons which are steam-punk in design and execution if not operation. Some people are more capable of wielding this earth-magic than others; Wardens are stationed around the world to monitor, absorb, and control the energy released by seismic activity. The Wardens are all men – because the idea that a woman could wield such power is just unthinkable in this society. And the idea of a woman of mixed heritage holding such power is not only unthinkable, it’s unfathomable.

Enter Ingrid Carmichael: a powerful magic-user hiding in plain sight as a secretary to a powerful San Francisco-based Warden because women shouldn’t be able to do even an eighth of what she can do. Trained by Warden Sakaguchi from childhood and past the untimely death of her mother, Ingrid is strong-willed. But also knows how to blend in – half Black, half Pacific Islander, and a woman, she kind of has to be able to navigate the anti-Asian, and specifically anti-Chinese, sentiments around her.

Ingrid’s best friend is Lee – a Chinese teen servant/surrogate son to Mr. Sakaguchi who has secrets of his own that come into play as the series progresses. Mr. Sakaguchi is a surrogate father to Ingrid as well, given the disappearance of her own father when she was a small child.

Early in the first book, Ingrid meets the handsome, smart, secretive Cy, who is on the run as a Deserter, trying to leave warmongering family history behind. Cy is accompanied by his best friend from the military academy, Fenris – an incredible mechanic/engineer/pilot who is full of heart but acts gruff and uncaring. Fenris, as it turns out, is transgender. Cato works this fact in smoothly, as just another character fact no more or less important than Ingrid’s heritage or Cy’s family history.

Outside of Mr. Sakaguchi, the rest of the Wardens we meet are questionable at best, enemies at worst. When we meet Warden Blum – a powerful Japanese politician – and Warden Roosevelt – yes, Teddy Roosevelt – we’re not sure if they will be friends or foes to Ingrid. Roosevelt is the one “real” historical supporting character in the series. His presence grounds the story in our own history. Cato’s portrayal isn’t always flattering, but I think she captures the real Roosevelt very well – for every national park he created, he said or did something to marginalize people of color, and Cato captures that dichotomy so very well.

But while the presence of Roosevelt and cities like San Francisco, Seattle, Portland and such make the world familiar, it’s the magic and the way it works (for peace and for war) that is the most impressive part of the world-building. Magical creatures exist, ranging from the almost-unknowable (giant snakes that live in seismic fault lines and whose movements generate the earth-magic at the core of the story), to the mighty (Chinese guardian spirits called Quilin, the goddess Pele) to the human-ish (kitsune, selkies) to the tiny (colonies of sylphs). Cato’s explanations for how magical energy is generated, the sickening effects it can have on those not talented enough to hold and control it, the way the Kermanite stores it and releases it – all feel so complete, so true, that every time the ground shakes I wonder if someone nearby is absorbing the energy to protect the rest of us. And the uses to which the magic is put feel very true to our own world. Some people just want to use it to heal (Reiki and acupuncture specialists), help (Ingrid) or build (Cy and Fenris, peripherally), while others want to use it to control (various wardens/politicians) or destroy (the Japanese government and certain insurrectionists). And while our main characters clearly choose sides/roles early on, there are many characters who start out believing one choice is correct and come to see the opposite (telling you who would spoil too much of the second and third books).

The character-building is as impressive as the world-building. Almost every main and supporting character has an arc to be explored. Some of those arcs build slower than others, and there’s at least one character I wish had had more of a storyline, but they all get to have their own moments and lives even while serving the main plot. Even tertiary characters have personality and a living energy often missing from characters who come on stage only to serve a brief purpose / propel the action forward. Ingrid is a wonderfully strong-willed lead character, but that’s not her only trait. She’s insecure about her abilities and what effect they will have if she can’t control them; she’s sometimes head-strong to a fault; she swings from too-trusting to too-suspicious (sometimes at inconvenient times); she pushes herself beyond her limits to save others; she is funny, smart, and romantic. In other words, real and well-rounded. And Cy is almost totally the same – the old saying “opposites attract” is put to the lie here – without subverting Ingrid’s lead role in her own story. And make no mistake: though surrounded by interesting subplots for her group of supporting characters, this trilogy is Ingrid’s story – Ingrid’s fight to hone her abilities, uncover her family’s past, defeat the enemies and save the day. Beth Cato is a fantastic author, and I’m sure she could tell interesting stories in this world without Ingrid if she really wanted to – but she couldn’t tell this story without Ingrid involved every step of the way, up to the very satisfactory end of book three, in which all plots and important subplots are wrapped up.

So: read the Blood of Earth trilogy if you like magic-infused alternate history, strong female leads, diverse supporting casts, steampunk-ish technology, and legends come to life. I’d be surprised if you were disappointed at all.