I've been a fan of Ms. Lindskold's books since her novel Changer in 1998, a wonderful fantasy about mythical figures and creatures of fantastical origin that live among us even today and wonder why they have hidden themselves away from human society, when perhaps they should be in charge of it.

You may also know Ms. Lindskold by her Firekeeper series, an enjoyable sequence of political intrigue, magic, and physical adventure centering around Lady Blysse, a young woman raised by Royal wolves (of the super intelligent variety).  In fact, the latest, Wolf's Blood, is on my reading list for 2008.

Child of a Rainless Year is a bit of a departure from Jane's action/adventure fantasies.  The heroin is middle-aged Mira Fenn, whose quest is to understand the disappearance of her mother, the woman who orphaned Mira at an early age by vanishing without a trace.

Unexpectedly, Mira inherits Phineas House, the place she knew as a child in New Mexico.  The house itself is magical, sitting at a crossroads where lines of magical force intersect, and soon Mira realizes that not only are her own inherited powers coming alive, the house itself is awakening to her presence.

Without a bit of horror and not a single battle, Ms. Lindskold weaves a wonderful detective story that leads down unexpected paths and even into the forgotten history of Albuquerque and its surroundings.  Her tools of magic are instruments of light, both common and offbeat, including mirrors, kaleidoscopes, and teleidoscopes.  Color and liminal space are themes throughout.

This is one of those books in which the magic seems as subtle as a family secret, and you keep turning pages to find out the awful truth.  Filled with atmosphere and intriguing characters (any one of which you could imagine meeting in real life), Child of a Rainless Year kept me interested from beginning to end and made me long for the home I grew up in, which had its own doorways into cobbly worlds and might have missed me when I was gone.