These three books all have a common thread for me: Somehow, I can't pick them up. Repeatedly. I get half way through and just never want to read 'em again. And there's a push for that third quarter, and then they pay off insanely well.

Unlike most of Bujold's work, I probably won't be rereading these a lot, but they're extremely well done. This one's probably the least approachable of the lot, and ended up being my favorite in the same way An Exchange of Hostages (Matthew's work) was. Very uncomfortable in a lot of ways, but presenting a mad, agonizing thing as a whole that functions within itself.

shrugs

Definitely gonna be reading some fluff next, though.