Nine Goblins

This is a light hearted novella about a bunch of misfits in the goblin army, and an eccentric elven veterinarian and the shenanigans that befall him with all kinds of natural and unnatural creatures. Until it suddenly turns into something else.

I love Kingfisher especially when she's being funny. This was a breath of fresh air during a stressful week.

I'm also used to some serious body horror from her, especially during the end game. But the contrast between making light of war, for most of the novel and the horrific images during the end game….

I'm afraid people with see the cover and think that it is only fun and games.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that this novella is allot of fun but should come with a body horror content warning.

Short & cute, much like a goblin. It's an art to pack this much world, character, & pathos into a novella while keeping everything so rich, so cosy. Tbh the story suffers a bit but the story is secondary so I didn't mind at all.

Mixed bag. Einiges war schön, vor allem das Setting als so eine Art Militärroman-Parodie unter weiblichem Sergeant, die Tatsache, dass sich diese Weiblichkeit bei Goblins in überhaupt gar nichts äußert und die Kombination aus niedlichen Kinderbuchelementen und Gore. Andererseits zu viele Popelscherze und ein extrem unerwarteter Schluss. Also unerwartet in seiner Kürze und Plötzlichkeit: "Am nächsten Tag fand ich aber heraus, dass Mr. Rochesters erste Frau noch lebte, also lief ich davon und wurde von barmherzigen Menschen aufgenommen, die, wie sich herausstellte, sogar mit mir verwandt waren. Einige Jahre später fanden Rochester und ich wieder zusammen und hatten einen Sohn miteinander. The End." Ungefähr so. Ich beschwere mich ja oft über langweilige zweite Hälften, aber so ist es mir jetzt auch wieder nicht recht.

Gegenwartskompatibilität: Es gibt zwei Szenen, in denen überdeutliche Parallelen zwischen Goblins und amerikanischen Indigenen gezogen werden, gleichzeitig sind die Goblins sympathisch, aber schlichte Gemüter, dreckig und stinkend. Ich ... glaube nicht, dass man das so machen sollte.

A charming novella revolving around a company of 9 goblins who are the lowest of the low level participants in a larger war between goblins, humans, and elves. Accidentally caught up in a wizard's portal spell when he tries to escape their attack, they find themselves miles behind enemy lines with no clear way to get back, or even to tell where exactly they are. As they try to find their way back they discover there's something very wrong in the area - some bad, strong magic and there's nobody left to investigate but the goblins and a scruffy elven veterinarian. And as the goblins realize that as an enemy race and as the only living entities left in the area, they're undoubtedly going to be accused and convicted of being responsible for the bad magic if found anywhere near the area, they're torn between the need to investigate the cause and the need to get far away from the area before the elven ranger patrol shows up to jump to the wrong conclusions.

On the surface it appears to be a light, humorous read about goblins, elf stereotypes, boogers, and fart jokes. But not too far underneath that is a sweet, real look at stereotypes, understanding the "other", mental illness, and caring for each other that's a little reminiscent of Terry Pratchett's "guards" books and the way he calls out inequalities in rank and race and policing via humour and fantasy stereotypes.

Description of how a goblin delegation approached a human village to ask for a treaty:

Many of the subtleties were lost on the humans. The lean bodies of war pigs in fighting trim looked feral and half-starved to human eyes, and the patterns of black earth, in which a goblin could’ve read whole volumes about tribal affiliations and clan standing, looked like streaky dirt and caked dust. Coup markers of bone and stone, denoting enemies slain and great deeds done, were seen as garbage trapped in unwashed hair. Where goblins would see high-ranking emissaries in full regalia, the humans saw a raggle-taggle band, ill-kempt and filthy, to be held in pity and contempt.