It's easy to tell when certain traits are passed on through family. One of my oldest friends has the exact same sarcastic laugh as her brother. Another friend has a daughter that does the exact same expression of puppy eyes when she wants something. Me? Well, my mom buys stuff off instagram ads like nobody's business. While I don't do that exact same thing, I am easily influenced. 

So when I came across a tumblr post by @aplpaca about one of her favorite childhood series, I was cautiously intrigued. Then, while waiting for one of my other holds, I discovered my local library had the entire quartet, so I grabbed a copy of Inda, which I read in a single sitting, and I have no regrets (justice for Dogpiss). 

Where to even begin? One of my all time favorite tropes is books with child narrators when the books aren't necessarily for children (see: Ender's Game, This Tender Land, Dear Edward). I think children are such an underutilized point of view in books not aimed for children and Sherwood Smith manages it all so well, it's almost like there are two stories happening at once: one in the idyllic world of children and the other harsh light of adulthood. 

Inda (who gives Kaladin vibes for the Stormlight Archive fans) is such a singular title character. This first book focuses on his childhood from a bright-eyed second prince to an exiled privateer on the high seas, this book takes you places. Inda, while clearly the main character, is not the only POV character by far. The world Smith builds is fascinating, queernormative, and expansive. It's hard to encompass everything this book is in one short review, so I'll try and hone in on a few specifics. 

Smith is such a master of her craft that even the main antagonist, Aldren, most commonly referred to in the book as the Sierlaef, feels tragic. As a young boy with a disability and a distant father, it's so easy to see how in his desperate search for validation, he reaches for the poisonous influence of his uncle. No child should have to bear the weight of such responsibility, distance, and aloofness. As he grows and the adults around him fail him, and he rebuffs all pivotal moments of redemption and his inevitable descent into villainy becomes a tragedy. Just the right word here, a genuine friend there, and the Sierlaef would have grown to be a noble man, if not a good one. Instead, by the end of the novel he goes from misguided, angry teen to a selfish, dangerous, obsessed man. 

This book made me laugh, it made me cry. (Yes, I did cry real tears for a character named Dogpiss by his fellow child soldiers). The love depicted in this book—familial, friendship, duty—is exquisite. There aren't really any romantic relationships I can point to in this installment, most marriages are marriages of convenience or politics and romance isn't a factor. This is a book of loyalty, bonds, and destiny. I can't recommend it enough. 

★★★★★ JUSTICE FOR DOGPISS STARS