Catherynne M. Valente and I have this relationship: I think her books sound interesting, pick them up, and then I start to read them and stop. I can't exactly say why. This has happened with Palimpset and The Girl Who Circumvented Fairy Land in blah, blah, blah. Honestly, it's me. I just can't shovel through the mucky muck to get to the real story. That is, Valente takes a very long walk around the garden, pointing out butterflies in order to make her point and by the time she does, I have forgotten why I cared in the first place. It's like listening to a charming old person rattle on about a war you are interested in. They wander in the storytelling, and in fact jump decades on you every once in a while. After a half an hour, you begin to plot how to remove your sense of hearing without the old person noticing and your neck hurts from bobbing your head up and down politely. It's not that you don't want to like the story. It's not that you don't...