* Disclaimer: I received a copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. *

There is an audience out there for this book, but I discovered that I am not a part of it. The writing is good, but the approach to the narrative is awkward and I found myself slogging through the pages. The construction felt confusing and was quite poor for my experience. In fact, it nearly put me in a reading slump out of frustration.

Readers need to be aware before going into this book that it is a dense read that requires time and a slow, pensive read. It is very stream of consciousness and definitely holds up to its claim to be meta. Readers also need to have some background understanding of Roman mythology and Shakespeare, as there are a LOT of references and the book is definitely based upon a firm knowledge of The Tempest and Twelfth Night. Without this preparation, there is a lot that will be missed.

For those who do love Shakespeare and can handle the stream of consciousness approach that includes occasional heavy digression, this will be an enjoyable read. Walton does have talent in her writing and her prose is quite lyrically beautiful.

In my experience, I could appreciate some of the meta parallels created between Sylvia's world and her book creation, but there wasn't a lot of progressive plot that kept me interested. There was a lot of implication and not enough storytelling. It felt like two separate books shoved together and I received no satisfaction from either one in the end.

I also had difficulty with the character. I was interested in them at the beginning, but as the book went on it felt like the reader was held at arm's length and I really wasn't allowed to know them fully. This left them a bit flat on the page. The only character who did allow some insight was Sylvia, and even with her I wanted more truth.

This book does have its merits and, as I said in the beginning, there are definitely readers who will fall in love with this. I do caution potential readers to go in prepared and select this carefully though, as for many it will not be comprehensible and enjoyable read.

I was fascinated by the burb and fell in love with the story.
It's gripping and intriguing, well written and complex. It's a story about storytelling and characters that kept me hooked and i couldn't put down.
It's the first book I read by this author and won't surely be the last.
Highly recommended.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine

Jo Walton has combined a writers fever dream into story form. It is the best fantasy form a combination of historical tidbits and character reflection. It gives a peak into how the character can and dies evolve through a episodic journey. In true artistic sleight of hand we never really the usual story form here and so the characters continue to ruminate and delight in philosophical maybes.

I told someone this was the sort of novel I’d recommend to someone who had already read & enjoyed other Jo Walton books. The expected preoccupations (classicism, Shakespeare, Florence, aging, protagonist of the fantasy story reads/writes fantasy, etc.) in a story that has stuck with me since reading probably in part because I have all the same interests. I feel wildly unqualified to gauge what an objective reaction would be and suspect many would find certain moments—the name at the end!—corny even though I loved them.

Jo Walton's Or What You Will is a clever and curious book that uses stories to ponder the nature of storytelling. Sylvia, author of 30 books over a 40-year career, is working on a new novel set in the same location as some of her earlier works: Thalia, a Florence-like city in a Renaissance-resembling time. But this novel is getting away from her, slowly filling with stories of her own life, the muse that lives inside her head interjecting himself into her writing more frequently. As Sylvia writes, both she and her muse face down their own mortality, even as the Thalian novel grows and spins and fills into itself, full of semi-historical detail and literary traditions (including a cast of characters drawn straight from the pages of various Shakespeare plays).

It takes no small amount of trust to fall into the world that Walton (My Real Children; The Just City) builds here, especially as Or What You Will alternates between the story of Thalia, as told by Sylvia; and the story of Sylvia, as told by the voice in her head; and the story of how the two intersect, as told by some combination of both of them. Walton, like Sylvia and her nameless muse, seems to value "the readers who press on and find it worthwhile, who may frown and blink now and then but keep reading... slip into the reading trance, the stories we spin you." That trust is not misplaced, as the narratives Walton and her quirky narrators tell in Or What You Will promise to delight any reader who appreciates a good story--with an enchanting side of snark.

If you are not familiar with Shakespeare’s The Tempest and Twelfth Night, you might find this book strange and boring.

I liked it very much. This is 2 stories woven together. One Sylvia’s story and another is the new story she’s working on which is a fantasy version of Florence called Illyria. The story is narrated through Sylvia's Imaginary friend from Childhood. I loved Sylvia's story and Illyria one not so much. Quite a reading experience and Jo walton is an amazing storyteller.

This was an interesting concept and, while I did confused a few times, the story makes sense by the end. The book is literally written in the mind of a writer and transitions the same way: chaotic but connected. I plan to bring this to my writing friends in hopes to see their own reactions as an author becomes part of their own story by the end.

Sylvia Harrison is a bestselling author nearing the end of her life. After her husband's death, she travels to Firenze, Italy to write her final novel. Traveling with her is our unnamed narrator, a being who has been Sylvia's companion for countless years. He fears her death, but knows of a way for them to live forever. He just has to convince her to do it.

As a writer who has had countless discussions with the people in her head, I was immediately drawn to this book. I was also intrigued because it involved possibly entering one's own made up world. Having created many, I have spent years wondering what it would be like to do so. I thought this book would be fascinating and provide much food for thought on all this. Indeed it kept me thoughtful, but also left me wanting.

The Plot: A Book of Two Stories

This is really two very different, very intertwined stories. One involves the life of Sylvia Harrison as told by the unnamed Narrator as well as the Narrator's own story. The other is Sylvia's final novel. It was fascinating to read, woven into the Illyria novel Sylvia is writing, the Narrator's comments and tangents as well as the conversations he and Sylvia had.

The Illyria story is a follow-up to a trilogy of books the reader is not privy to as they were written early in Sylvia's career. It was based on Twelfth Night by Shakespeare, but no prior knowledge of the play was necessary. I certainly didn't have any problems keeping up with it, but I suppose it might have had more meaning if I had been familiar with it. At first, I thought it was utterly fascinating and I couldn't wait to get to know the characters and their predicaments better, but, as it went on, it seemed to stall and stick on one problem before it was very quickly resolved with very little drama. It was odd, kind of like a first draft, which I suppose it might have been, but it was weird getting a deeply flawed story woven though a professionally published book. It somehow made the story of Sylvia and the Narrator more interesting, though I did really enjoy the Illyria story. The most annoying thing, though, was that it was a follow-up to the trilogy, so it's impossible for the reader to know what was going on in that world, but the actual author went full steam ahead, so the bits and pieces recalling what had happened before felt like ill-fitting puzzle pieces and out of place and only there because the reader literally has no idea what those books contained.

The story of Sylvia and the Narrator, though, was quite amazing. I really enjoyed getting her life story from someone who was and wasn't a part of her. Their conversations were fascinating as it came from a place of deep familiarity and friendship even though the Narrator wasn't a real person. It was somehow both a story of their relationship and of the ramblings around the Narrator has done in Sylvia's head. It felt like he was sitting there, quite at ease, telling her and their stories with candor, respect, and love. I absolutely loved it. I do have to admit that it was a little hard to get into at first, especially since the Narrator seemed quite intent on telling some historical stories that were amusing, but still frustrating, for a couple of chapters, and then it just glided right into the Illyria story. I think. Still, I thought it was fascinating and thought-provoking and clearly dealt with the ideas of death and life after death and immortality.

Overall, this was actually a splendidly done story, though the end did leave me wanting a little. It was fun, but gave me so much to think about, as well as a good history lesson! The two stories wove together almost flawlessly and I loved how they crossed back and forth.

The Characters: A Fascinating Mixed Bag

I really liked Sylvia, even though we only get to know her through the eyes of the Narrator. She clearly had a difficult life and love was hard to come by (warning: domestic abuse and violence). Still, she persevered and found strength and found her own ways to recover, though it did impact the rest of her life. I liked that she wasn't perfect, that the Narrator didn't make her seem so. It made her feel fully human. The only thing that bothered me was that the reader has no real sense of her beyond what the Narrator tells, so the reader is not privy to her thought processes and decision making, so the choice she made at the end of the book felt very abrupt and kind of from left field, almost as though it was just time for the whole book to be finished.

The Narrator was the most intriguing character. I put myself in knots trying to figure out exactly what he was, but I think the point was that he simply did exist and was something special to Sylvia. I didn't get the feeling that the reader was supposed to know who, exactly, he was, or what, and it somehow made him feel kind of real. I loved trying to figure out whether he was a figment of her imagination or her creativity personified, or maybe she had schizophrenia or split personality. Honestly, the last two intrigued me, but I had a better sense that it might have been the first two, or none of them. What really stole my heart, though, was that the conversations he had with Sylvia reminded me of the ones I have had with my own characters. He was so honest, with the reader, and felt so fully formed. It was amazing.

The one disappointing thing about how wonderfully crafted Sylvia and the Narrator were was that it made Sylvia's Illyria characters feel flat and kind of boring. None of them were particularly compelling. They each had their own role to play, and simply played it. Upon introduction, they were interesting, but then didn't progress much past that. None of them were particularly well explored, or really given room to explore anything except the concept of death in Illyria. Perhaps it's because there's a whole trilogy that predates the present story and a whole lot of development occurred in them, but then that doesn't really seem fair considering the reader has no concept of those books as they don't actually exist.

Overall, the characters were something of a mixed bag, but then I also can't figure out who were the main characters. It was a fascinating dilemma for my brain, and I still find myself ruminating on it.

The Setting: Quite Italian

I adore Italy, so I was quite happy to learn much of the book took place in Firenze and the fictional version of Firenze, Illyria. As they were basically the same setting, the world building seemed quite simple, but still deep and interesting. I loved getting to know present day Firenze and the Firenze that may have existed during the Renaissance.

Present day Firenze served as a springboard for Illyria. It felt much like the research an author would do for stories set in real life places. It was fun to follow Sylvia around Italy as she did her research, especially as it took her to art museums where bits and pieces of what she saw had an impact on how Illyria was conceived and explored.

Illyria is stuck in the past, in the Renaissance specifically. It didn't perfectly align with Firenze, and I think that's what actually made it magical. It was like the real city, but different. There were so many of the same structures, but was still it's own place. I think I actually found Illyria to be more interesting as more of the whole book took place in Illyria than Firenze, but it did feel like Italy and it did feel like how I imagine a place stuck in the Renaissance would be.

Overall: Magically Unexpected

This was quite an interesting book. I wasn't expecting it to be anything like this, so I was surprised. At first, I was a little put off, but then the writing just started to flow and the stories started to flow and weave together and suddenly it was kind of magical. Until the end, which was a bit of a letdown. But everything in the middle was compelling and magical. I'm very glad I read this book. It's given me much to think about, much to consider, and I might never look at my characters the same way again. The characters were a bit hit and miss for me, but I loved the setting and thought the stories were quite interesting, though not without their flaws. Also, the Narrator is a pretty amazing guy.

Thank you to Netgalley and Macmillian-Tor/Forge for a free e-ARC. All opinions expressed are my own.
Link to post: https://thelilycafe.com/book-review-or-what-you-will-by-jo-walton/

I could not get into this book at all. Told in the first person by a writer's muse (sort of) it didn't grab me at all. I admit I didn't read the whole thing. After a few chapters I skimmed, skipped to the end, didn't get the feel that I would like it any better, and went on to read something else. (I have read a couple of Walton's other novels and enjoyed them, by the way.)

While reading the synopsis of this book I was intrigued. It sounded very interesting and it has a unique premise. To be honest I don't know how to describe it. You have to read the book for yourself . The truth is that I really liked it. It's a novel about how stories are brought forth.
First of all, it takes place in Florence which is one of my favourite places. It also reads like a non-fiction book at some parts, like a biography.
The story is told by the voice inside the author's head. "He" is the spark of an idea in 73-year-old award winning novelist Sylvia's mind and he has been many things throughout her books. But he is also very aware that Sylvia is getting old, and when she dies, so does he. But he has an idea how they could gain immortality, together, if she will just listen. This voice tries to save her by getting her into the fantasy world of her books where there is no death.
It is a very different book from what I have read before and that is another reason I really liked it.
The writing is excellent and the descriptions made me want to be in Thalia / Firenze too. There are also elements from some of Shakespeare's plays like The Tempest.
Also this book is the reason I want to read more from Jo Walton.

I highly recommend it, if you want to read something different and unique.

Reviewed by my co-blogger, Celeste, on Novel Notions.

“I have been a word on the tongue. I have been a word on the page. And I hope I will be again.”

Or What You Will blew me away from the very first page. The last time I got this excited over the first paragraphs of a book was when I read The Ten Thousand Doors of January, which ended up being my favorite book of 2019. My pulse actually sped up as I read, and I had to stop and go back and reread those first few paragraphs because they were just so gorgeous. I had read passages to my husband and frantically text my fellow Novel Notions besties about how excited I was before I even finished that first chapter. And I continued to deeply appreciate the writing all the way through, and highlighted and annotated an incredible number of passages. But after such a wonderful beginning, things went from beautiful literary fiction to an unexpected accounting of the art scene of Renaissance Florence. I mean, I have no problem at all with the topic but that shift came out of nowhere. I would say it was jarring if the air of the novel wasn’t so meandering. And then there were a ton of Shakespearean characters added into the mix, which was surprising. But the book never really came back to what I loved so much in those first few pages, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was incredibly disappointed by that decision on Walton’s part.

“What am I? What am I? Figment, fakement, fragment, furious fancy-free form.”

This is a book that doesn’t hold your hand. Walton expects readers to be familiar with certain histories and literary works and, if they flounder, that’s not really her problem, is it? I would strongly advice anyone interested in reading this book who has no Shakespearean exposure to at least find summaries of Twelfth Night and The Tempest and read those before diving into Or What You Will. There are micro-sequels to both plays in the pages of this book, and those will make far more sense if you have an idea of what said plays are about and who their characters are. Said sequels also tie the two plays together in interesting ways. I love the idea of these tales continuing on after the curtain closes, and I love even more the idea of those stories continuing on in a world parallel to ours where magic is real and the Renaissance never ended. But these well worn characters underwent little new development in my opinion, regardless of their near eternal life in this magical world. They continued on without really moving forward, though I feel that might have been the point.

“Imagine that power, to make worlds! I can make and shape and take no worlds. I slide myself into the worlds I am given and find myself, frame myself, tame myself into the space there where I can see to be me.”

The concept of telling a story from a fictional character’s perspective while they’re inside their author’s head and aware of that fact is an interesting one. As is this eternal, magical Renaissance in a Florence populated with Shakespearean casts and real, historical artists and scholars. Both stories had promise but, in my opinion, mixed about as well as oil and water. There was a lack of continuity that was distracting every time the story flipped from the real world to the fictional world. Sylvia, who is the author of the fictional world and whose mind is the dwelling place of the nameless narrator, has a very interesting back story. But I felt that her story and the book she was writing never did fully cohere, despite that being the point of the novel.

“I’d want the stars to be destinations, not destiny.”

This book is one of the most meta, experimental novels I’ve read in recent memory. The ideas were wonderful, and the narrative went in enough different directions to make heads spin. But the amount of fourth-wall breaking and self commentary came across as self-indulgent instead of endearing. The book was brief, at little more than 300 pages, but it felt exhaustingly labyrinthine. The writing was exquisite and the ideas unique, but I had a hard time making myself pick this little book up. I also found myself disappointed in the ending. While the entire book was building toward a particular outcome, that final scene was so brief as to feel woefully abridged and ultimately unsatisfying. However, the quality of the writing and the social commentary woven into the narrative about the fantasy genre and religion and the world as a whole saved the book for me. I enjoyed having a chance to peer so deeply into the mind of both the author of this book and the author in the book.

“There’s no difference between fairy tales and war stories… Pah. All stories start both ways. There’s no difference between once upon a time, and believe me, because I was there and still bear the scars. There are scars in everyone’s stories…”

I’m sure Or What You Will shall become a new favorite for many, and I deeply regret that I’m not part of that number. However, I look forward to trying more of Walton’s work, as she is a brilliant wordsmith whose prose I can’t wait to sample again. Even though I didn’t love this particular story, I deeply respect what Walton both attempted and was able to do in the writing of it. Hopefully I’ll find a book or multiple books in her catalogue that will ring as true to me as Sylvia’s books did for her fictitious fanbase in this novel.

Jo Walton's Lent was my favorite read of 2019 so I was very excited to see that her next book was coming out so soon. Or What You Will had an extremely intriguing premise that kept my interest the whole way through. I felt as though I would have gotten slightly more out of this title if I was a bit better-versed in Shakespeare but it was still quite enjoyable and I enjoyed the alternating chapters between the "fictional" world of Thalia and the "real" world of author Sylvia Harrison.

I requested this book because Tor is probably one of my favourite publishers and very rarely steers me wrong with their publications. I also was interested in this being “meta fiction”, which I’ve never read before. This story follows a writer and a character in her books who is trying to save her as he fears that when she dies, he will too.

I will first say that I’ve discovered that I am not a fan of meta fiction, but there is a lot to love about this regardless. Jo Walton knows how to write - there are passages where I lost myself completely in the story she was telling, empathizing with the characters, tasting their food (the food descriptions! My god!), and seeing their world. I actually started looking up the places she mentions in this book because they sound so amazing.

This book draws heavily on Shakespeare’s work and characters. I think I lost a lot of understanding there, but those who are familiar with Shakespeare will probably take a lot more from this aspect than I was able to. I found some pieces hard to follow - this is a story within a story and jumps back and forth quickly. It’s one of those novels that deserves a second read to find what you missed the first time around. If you love Shakespeare and Italy, you’ll definitely want to give it a first try!

🌟🌟🌟 (I liked it)
Trigger Warning - spousal abuse

This is an absolute wonder of a book, full of Shakespeare and Florence and writing and food and love and poetry and strangeness. It’s a story that draws you in so deeply that you become completely immersed, and just swim through it as though you can breathe the water and will never need to surface. At a time when we can’t travel, it feels like travelling; at a time when I have found it hard to focus, it engaged my attention completely. It shifts so seamlessly between reality and fantasy that I had to keep stopping to check whether this particular character or that particular restaurant really existed in our world, or really did that… and in some cases, I’m still not sure.

It’s the sort of book where you finish it and you don’t want to leave. I have so many books that I desperately want to read right now, and yet I can’t bring myself to start, because I don’t want to lose the sense of being in Firenze, of being in Thalia, of being spoken to by the narrator and watching as Shakespeare is twisted and turned and made rich and strange and queer (more queer than it already is) and wonderful (more wonderful than it already is). And I desperately want to go to the Teatro del Sale, which really does exist, but which is as inaccessible to me right now as Thalia is.

Full review will appear on Smart Bitches, Trashy Books on July 8.

Or What You Will, by Jo Walton, is an at times charming, at times frustrating work of metafiction that reads, even distanced by the novelist’s artifice, as a warmly personal, almost intimate love letter to Florence, the Renaissance, art, reading, the classics, and creativity. I’m guessing it will receive a mixed, varied response from Walton’s readers.

Sylvia Harrison is a mid-range author of a good number of novels, including several set in the quasi-fantastical Illyria — imagine Renaissance Florence with magic where people do not die save by willful intent (their own giving up of life, murder). Or What You Will is narrated by her creative spark, that flame of imagination trapped in her “bone cave” as he’s instilled her creations with the spark of life:

I have been too many things to count. I have been a dragon with a boy on his back … a scholar, a warrior, a lover, and a thief. I have been dream and dreamer. I have been a god. I have stood by the wind-wracked orchard … I am friend to monsters, companion to bees … stormbringer and a stormtamer ... I have been a character and I have been a narrator, but now I don’t know what I am.

Though he does know he is fearful. Because Sylvia is dying of cancer, and he worries what will become of him when that happens. He wants her “to make a world for me, for all that I am and could be, for me seen whole, not one where I have to pour as much of myself a will fit into an aspect she has shaped for me.” But Sylvia (yes, they talk to each other) tell him that would be “too meta, nobody would want that . . . what would it be about?” And you can see the meta nature arising, as this book does turn out to be partially that one. And a new novel set in Illyria (our narrator has plans for that place), though Sylvia worries going back to an old setting will make her seem “senile” to her readers. It’s also Sylvia’s own story, as our narrator tells us how they first met, and what tore them apart so that he was, possibly, dead for years. We hear about her first marriage and its physical and mental abuse, her more successful second marriage, her love of Florence, her grief over the death of her second husband, her fears of dying, her anxiety over what she perhaps sacrificed to become a writer.

So three strands at least here: our narrator’s plan to escape the bone cave and get Sylvia into Illyria where she (and thus he) can live forever, Sylvia’s personal history and current day to day existence, and the events in Illyria, which involve two characters from our world crossing over and becoming embroiled in family and political drama involving wizards, deposed dukes and their usurpers, vengeance and forgiveness, bad marriages, and more.

But while those are the plot strands, Walton weaves a more layered work than just a tripartite braid. Many of the inhabitants of Illyria, as one might guess from the title, are pulled from Shakespeare: Miranda, Orsino, Caliban. Sebastian, basically the cast and storylines of The Tempest and Twelfth Night. Others are historical figures from Florence’s past. But, given this is Jo Walton, they are also characters in other Walton works. There’s a host of other literary, artistic, and musical allusions as well. There’s a mini-lesson on Florence’s grand dome, the competition to do the baptistry doors, the invention of “bastions.”

Some readers may revel in all these layers. Some may wish they could just read what was going in Illyria as a straight novel. Some will eat up the meta-references. I found them variably successful. The sections on Sylvia’s history I thought bogged the story down quite a bit. I never really engaged with her fully as a character, and so the heavy emotional aspects didn’t quite hit home with full force, save for a few vividly sharp depictions of her grieving her husband. Another reason they were problematical for me was that they were mostly in summary format and felt a bit plodding stylistically, a sort of “and then and then and then” construction that again made it difficult to connection emotionally.

I can see some readers wishing Walton would have cut all the Florentine art history, but I quite enjoyed those, though at times the style felt a little like a cross between a YA non-fiction novel and a middle-school art teacher. That speaking-to-a-young-audience tonal issue ran sporadically throughout the first half to two-thirds of the novel, not only in the sections on art and history.

The meta level was a betwixt and between strand for me. Sometimes the references were overly familiar and too simple, other times I enjoyed the insights, as with the discussion of killing off characters, which isn’t simply focused on Sylvia’s writing but also brings in Tolkien’s death and death/resurrection of Boromir and Gandalf respectively, or of C.S. Lewis’ death and resurrection of Aslan, and then compares those to more modern examples.

Or What You Will isn’t as emotionally powerful as Among Others or as intellectually stimulating as the Thessaly trilogy. It’s a more quirky, highly personal novel that you sort of get the sense Walton doesn’t really care how it’s received or even if it’s out there at all. It feels like a novel she wanted to write, filled with stuff she likes — particular art and food and creative works — and so she did and had a lot of fun doing so. I know authors, including Walton, usually write the novels they want to, but this one feels more like that, if that makes any sense to anyone. I enjoyed most of it, got bogged down in some sections, and felt the ending packed a nice emotional touch which uplifted the overall reading experience. Recommended.

Too modern

I am not particularly fond of first person narratives even when there is a straightforward plot and linear story. This narration by an imaginary friend – even if the friend is of vital importance – left me very cold. Ms Walton's writing is lovely but the book is too modern (or as other reviewers say "meta") for me.

“No, but I can’t count on you, can I? You who live under the relentless and fickle reign of Crastina. You are uncertain, potential, and as we compose these words you don’t even know I exist. You, who may not even be born yet as we stand in the rose garden on the afternoon of July 16th 2018? You lingered in the passage looking at the faded spines of the books, remember? You didn’t want to open the door into the rose garden. We made a contract back at the beginning of the book, I’d tell you stories and I promised I wouldn’t make you do anything but read. And besides, you could read this book a hundred times (it’s all right, I don’t expect you to) and give me a hundred different names. What kind of immortality would that be?”

Synopsis: Within the mind of 73-year-old award-winning author Sylvia Harris resides a being… a character, if you will. He has been all manner of things, in all manner of lives. In truth, he is a spark, a spirit of intellect, and he has been Sylvia’s companion for many years. Now, Sylvia writes what may be her final novel set in her fictional world of Thalia. When Sylvia goes, that will be the end of him… unless, of course, he gets her to agree to his plan. Together, can they conquer even death?

As I sit here writing this, with a Summer berry crisp baking in the oven (Walton’s writing whets the appetite… I couldn’t help myself), I am still turning the words around in my head. What did I just read? What does it all mean? I certainly have an idea, but the trick here is to describe it to you without ruining the artistry upon the page; not so simple a task. One could discuss protagonists, and plot structure, and the dialogue, and a whole host of other things… similarly, one could describe the chemical composition of the paint in Raphael’s “The School of Athens”. To do so in either case would be a silly and pointless exercise. The artistry is more than a simple arrangement of parts. As such, I’ll try to avoid a formulaic review of this story.

I’ll admit that this is the first Jo Walton book I’ve ever read, and I feel privileged as a Montrealer to see our city through her eyes. Her description of the city, good and bad, evokes memories of my childhood and growing up in the province of Quebec. The referendum to separate Quebec from Canada was a trying time for Quebec English-speakers, and Sylvia’s recollection of it stirred some long-buried emotions in me. I never had to suffer quite the same prejudice as a bilingual person, but many others whom I know and love were impacted. This longing for acceptance and community (to me) is at the core of Walton’s text, and our own provincial struggles makes an apt metaphor. Sylvia’s fictional world is one in which newcomers and interlopers are not shunned, but are instead granted unquestioning dignity and respect. A woman can dress as a man if she so pleases, and it is considered polite to not bring it up. Everyone understands each other, and it is not viewed as any sort of concern. Her fabulous descriptions of Firenze/Florence only magnify my own desire to visit (the food also helps…); here as well we find communal gatherings of import, such as the dining club Sylvia frequents. This longing, this desire to belong, is everywhere.

The primary narrator, Sylvia’s “spark” of inspiration, spirit, whatever you’d like to call him, is a literary tool I am not quite used to… use of the 2nd Person to address the reader directly isn’t something I encounter often, and Walton jokingly addresses this in the text, noting that it is primarily used in erotica. It requires a certain uncomfortable submission on the part of the reader, but it also draws one into the text. One allows the story to become reality, however temporary. The narrator is not merely a disembodied voice: they are speaking to YOU, the reader. This blur between the narrative and reality is central to the plot, and Walton uses numerous layers to emphasize it. This is, of course, a story about stories. It is a story about the act of creation, the author’s relation to the text, mortality/immortality, and sacrifice. Thalia, the fictional world in Sylvia’s writing, is built on a foundation of sacrifice. It is only through the death/sacrifice of Pico that death was conquered. Pico literally wove himself into the fabric of his world. On the other hand, the price for conquering death was Progress. The interplay between life/death, author/story, and stability/progress is a central theme as well, and I’ll leave these depths for the Academics to plumb; my University days have passed, and I’ve no doubt that you didn’t come here to read a PhD paper on the Narrative Process. Suffice it to say that this is a text rich with questions and perhaps, for those willing to brave some introspection, some important answers.

“Or What You Will” is like no other Fantasy novel I’ve ever read. If you are coming in expecting the tropes of Epic Fantasy, you will be sorely disappointed: this is not that sort of tale. If, on the other hand, you value the importance of craftsmanship, or the delicate interplay between our world and the fantasies we make for ourselves, then this book will change you. You’ll be taken to many beautiful places, and contemplate the breadth of the human experience. I struggle to do it justice, and can only urge you to give it a chance. It is a pleasure to read, with its beautiful language, creative narratives, and colorful use of Shakespeare’s catalog. I truly believe this is one of the first masterpieces of the new decade, by an incredible Hugo-award-winning author.

Happy Reading!

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<p>Review copy provided by the publisher. Also the author is a dear friend, and I read this book in an early draft.</p>
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<p>For a book about death this is not particularly gloomy. It's not <em>only</em> about death, it's about creation/subcreation and the uplifting nature of story, and about Florence, and about a bunch of Shakespeare's characters. But it is substantially about death. And yet...and yet it is not a particularly sad book, not on my list of "oh goodness don't read this now."</p>
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<p>The mix of 21st century Montreal writer, 19th century Latin scholars, and fantastical 15th-16th-ish-sorta century fantasy characters give the story a sort of syncretist flexibility. It's intensely personal and specific and yet very far-ranging. And...look, Caliban has a family. Caliban is not a singular monster but a person with motivation and family and compatriots. I like all sorts of things about this book, but I think one of my favorites is that it takes the time to have thinking, feeling creatures who are quite unlike each other, finding ways to get through it all in the same world. Worlds. Whichever.</p>
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The Good: Fantasy book about reading and writing, birth and creation, and living forever
The Bad: Not for novice readers
The Literary: Story within a story, Shakespeare, LeGuin, and the Italian Renaissance

Award-winning author of over thirty novels, Sylvia Harrison, 73, has someone who exists solely in her mind. He's played a part in most of her novels, whether as a scholar, a warrior, a thief, a god, or a dragon. But his consciousness is real and separate from Sylvia, and as she nears death, he fears he'll die too. As Sylvia writes a new fantasy novel set in a world similar to  renaissance Florence, he sets out convince her that they can both become immortal if she writes themselves into the book.

I adore this novel for a lot of reasons, but one is because it's unlike anything I've ever read.

Let's start with the narrator,Sylvia's muse. He narrates his own life both inside Sylvia's head and embodying Sylvia's characters, his calling into existence, and how his thoughts and opinions are separate and distinct from Sylvia's. It's a sort of rambling story that jumps around in time as he shares Sylvia's past and their life together, follows Sylvia around as she writes and researches her book in Italy, and as he tries to convince Sylvia that he has a plan for their immortality. As Sylvia ages, she begins to accept the inevitability of her death, but he can't. And it's no wonder. As a muse, he barely qualifies as living entity. Sylvia isn't even sure he's real. As a reader, you want to believe, but skepticism lurks in the corner, waiting for a rationale to explain him away. So what chance does a little muse have to beat death? Not much, and that's why you root for him.

Alongside chapters of Sylvia and her muse discussing life and death in the present day, chapters in Sylvia's new book are revealed as she writes them. The story-within-a-story is also set in Italy, or rather a fantasy version of renaissance Florence called Thalia. Two 19th century teenagers, Dolly and Tish, stumble into a world where death is rare, wizards heal, and giants roam, and learn to navigate their new world and interpret signs from their gods.

It's no secret that Jo Walton is a huge fan of scifi and fantasy. See her series of essays compiled in An Informal History of the Hugos: A Personal Look Back at the Hugo Awards, or if that isn't enough, fans of her work no doubt enjoy the referential nature of her novels. Or What You Will is no different, and in it you'll likely find lots of fantasy works you need to add to your reading list, but there's also significant references to the Bible, Shakespeare's Twelfth Night and The Tempest, and Brunelleschi's art and architecture. But let me clarify. Some works are referential in that they copy great works or want to generate some sort of in-group fan-boy club. Walton is referential in that she praises great works, incorporating them into her stories in a wholly original way, and genuinely invites the reader to explore the art she finds joyful and miraculous.

Whereas many of Walton's books seek to elevate the joy of reading, this also offers a glimpse into the magic and the mundane of creation. As with her muse, Sylvia's characters are set upon the page, given life, only to surprise her with their own actions. Writing can be stifled for weeks by an uncomfortable chair or stories can leap into reality when you least expect them. Realities and time and life and death are blurred, resulting a postmodern fantasy with all the fun of metaphysical lucidity without the pretentiousness.

Highly recommended for serious fans of fantasy, the craft of writing, Renaissance history, and playful reflections on death.

To begin with, I feel compelled to say that I have no real knowledge of Florence, the Renaissance, and Shakespeare’s works. I certainly have never been to Italy or watched Shakespeare’s plays (having read them a long time ago and not fully able to appreciate them, I dare not claim more than that). I am admitting to these, embarrassed, because I feel inadequately insecure about reviewing this wonderful book. That being said I do love to read, especially within the fantasy genre – it has been my default genre since always, be it between the pages or on the screens. The premise of this book (the muse to an author telling the story for both of them, being self-aware and wanting more!) was what made me request the advance reader copy from Netgalley. I fell in love with the synopsis, and although here I have to say that this book is definitely not for every kind of readers to enjoy, I stayed in love with it to very end. How could I not?

Why I would caution:
The book is sprinkled throughout with generous details of history and art, breaking from the story often, so you might find that jarring and meandering. It feels self-indulgent, but I find myself enjoying that self-indulgence along with the nameless narrator or the muse, with Sylvia to whom the muse belongs to, and I believe, also with the author. The author doesn’t explain to the readers who these Shakespeare’s characters are, and right away continue their stories in this book from the plays that Shakespeare wrote of them, and you could either think the author believes you to already know those characters, or you could see it as intentional. My optimism leads me to choose the latter. At least in the author’s hands, for me it has been an adventure.

Why I would recommend: If you love Shakespeare, being a tourist especially of course if you love Florence and the Renaissance or art in general. I’d also recommend for these thoughts the author explores; hurt, healing, death, immortality, even magic and forever. The bonus, I think, is if you are a writer yourself; you would appreciate a lot and relate to much of it, I’m sure of that.

Personally:
- It makes me look forward to growing older and traveling solo accompanied by that voice in my head. I will have to make some decisions about that voice.
- I am pleasantly surprised to discover Sylvia’s husband Idris, a representation of another ordinary Muslim, although of course we differ; not in any way negative.
- A physical copy of this book will one day be one of the books I carry in my bag.
- This is my first read by Jo Walton, and it will not be the last.

Thank you to Netgalley and Tor Books for providing the digital advance reader copy. All opinions stated are my own.