Category: Authors Page 90 of 124

by Kim Harrison
Series: The Peri Reed Chronicles/The Hollows

Kindle Single, 87 pg.
Pocket Star, 2016

Read: April 5, 2016

In her Foreword, Harrison says, “Waylaid still reads like self-made fan fiction to me, ” thereby denying book bloggers and other amateur reviewers the opportunity to use that label. Which is a shame, because that’d be a great way to sum it up. Thankfully, it saves us all from making the same joke.

In a move as classic as Uncle Jesse visiting Los Angeles to say “howdy” to Enos^*, Harrison brings much beloved Rachel Morgan into the new, awesome, and in much need of publicity world of Peri Reed. Set sometime after the main events of The Witch with No Name (but not necessarily the last chapter), and before The Drafter, Waylaid will serve as a great introduction for fans of Morgan’s series.

A drunken mishap, inspired by a silly Urban Fantasy TV show (that I’d totally watch), results in Jack summoning Rachel in to Peri’s apartment. Jack and Peri assume she’s a counter-agent who’d been waiting for them to return to attack. Rachel has no clue who they are other than nitwits who summoned her away from a date and started attacking her. It doesn’t take her long to realize that her magic doesn’t work, and wherever she is, it’s a world she doesn’t recognize — Detroit still exists, people have technology she can only dream about, and the ley lines are deader than Arizona back home. The clock’s ticking and Peri and Rachel have to team up to get Rachel back home.

It’s silly, it’s fun — it’s pretty faithful to both series, it hopefully helps boost sales of The Drafter and its sequel.

I don’t really a lot to say without getting pretty heavy into spoilers, but I thought it was worth the pittance I spent on it, probably a little more. Fans of Harrison should give it a shot.

^* I just revealed my age there, I know. I also know there are older examples, but that’s the first in my memory.

—–

3 Stars

The Shootout Solution (Audiobook) by Michael R. Underwood, Mary Robinette Kowal

By HCNewton

On March 30, 2016

In Fiction, Genrenauts, Michael R. Underwood, Science Fiction

The Shootout Solution

by Michael R. Underwood, Mary Robinette Kowal
(Narrator)
Series: Genrenauts, Episode 1

Unabridged Audiobook, 3 hours and 25 minutes
Macmillan Audio, 2015
Read: March 23, 2016

I thoroughly enjoyed the story about Leah Tang’s introduction to the wonderful and crazy world of the Genrenauts — and it’s sequel — when I read it last November. When heading out for a road trip, I figured it’d be a good distraction from the road for my wife, son and I. It’s a fun story, filled with characters you want to root for on an adventure that we all would like to take. I mean seriously, a rocketship ride to the Old West? Sign me up.

For me, this time it was a little easier to grasp the explanations given for what the team is up to — the new reality (better, realities) that Leah finds herself in this time out. Partially because I already knew it, partially because I find that kind of thing easier to digest when I hear it (so why don’t I listen to more audiobooks?)

On the whole, I was really impressed with Kowal’s narration. My wife and I weren’t crazy about her characterization of King — the voice was hard to understand, I really didn’t think it matched the description Underwood gave. I had virtually no other complaints — and in fact, really enjoyed her work. It was a little hard for me to deal with the fact that it took nearly three-and-a-half hours to get through, I’m used to spending a lot less time with Underwood’s works (most of them, anyway). But I did appreciate being forced to soak in the world, think about things a bit more than I would have on my own.

I was hoping we’d get through the second installment as well, but we weren’t able to squeeze that in. I’m curious what Kowall did with some of the characters we meet there, and hope I can figure out a time to get to it soon.

If you liked the novella — or if you think you’d like the book, but haven’t gotten around to grabbing it, the audiobook is well worth the small investment of time and money.

—–

4 Stars

A Few Quick Questions With…M. T. Miller

By HCNewton

On March 16, 2016

In A Few Quick Questions With..., Books, Fantasy, M. T. Miller, News/Misc., Writing

I posted about M. T. Millers’s Risen: First Book of the Nameless Chronicle yesterday (if you didn’t read it, take a moment now — or skip what I said and go get the book). Miller was kind enough to participate in a Q&A with me. I asked some Risen-specific questions and then a couple less-so. I kept it short and sweet, because I’d rather he work on his next book than take too much time with me, y’know?

What got you into writing? Who are some of your major influences? (whether or not you think those influences can be seen in your work — you know they’re there)

Misfortune got me into writing. Due to an unforeseen death, me and my SO found ourselves severely lacking in currency, so I took a ghostwriting gig to plug the leak and save the ship. After some time, having seen quite a bit of the more popular stuff first hand, I decided I was just as good. Time will tell if I was right.

As for my major influences, I’d say those would be George R. R. Martin, Scott Lynch, and on a less conventional note, whoever it is that did the story for the Nier/Drakengard series of games. I think his name is Yoko Taro. I see their presence quite clearly in my work. Martin taught me how to swing the axe, but to do it effectively as opposed to liberally. Lynch helped me with the same thing, but did so with the wit and style I can only hope to match some day. As for Yoko Taro, well. . . he taught me how to handle unhinged characters in a way that works.

How many stories do you have in mind for this? I assume you know what’s going on with Nameless — who he is, where he’s from, what kind of supernatural being he is and so on — how hard is it to give your readers bits and pieces of this information here and there? How long before he figures it all out? Sister Chastity seemed to know — did she? (feel free to not answer those last two — or to make your answer as teasing as you want)

The whole story is planned to run for some six installments, each longer and more complex than the last. For instance, book two will be roughly twice the size of the first one. Of course, I might increase or decrease the number in the future by splitting or fusing story arcs. We’ll see.

I’ve found it much easier than expected, and more fun for that matter, to spread little clues about. I’m not a very subtle person; I go straight for the throat, and I feared that the whole mystery thing would suffer for it. Luckily, I seem to have gotten it under control. At least for now.

Several big reveals will happen sooner than you might think, but answers always come with more questions.

The Sister has seen her fair share of weirdness, but her relation to the Nameless was more defined by his charity than what she knew or didn’t know.

In the writing of Risen, what was the biggest surprise about the writing itself? Either, “I can’t believe X is so easy!” or “If I had known Y was going to be so hard, I’d have skipped this and watched more TV”.

I never expected the epilogue to come out as good as it did. I wrote it in one sitting, and it came out absolutely perfect. It still gives me the chills.

“Horace” is a great name, but not a common one — is there a story behind your selection of it?

There’s a story behind every name, even the lack of one. For me, the name “Horace” invokes the Old West, the American Civil War, and the like. Given that the Nameless Chronicle is more or less “Old West meets apocalyptic fantasy,” it just felt right.

Dead is Better by Jo Perry

By HCNewton

On March 16, 2016

In Charlie & Rose Investigate, Dogs, Fiction, Jo Perry, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller

Dead is Better

by Jo Perry
Series: Charlie & Rose Investigate, #1

Kindle, 282 pg.
Fahrenheit Press, 2016

Read: March 12 – 14, 2016

In its young life, Fahrenheit Press has put out some great looking titles, not your typical mystery fare. I’ve only read 2 (bought 1 other), so far — but they’ve shared the off-kilter flavor that the Press’ twitter feed/publicity displays (and descriptions for the other books indicate). I don’t typically talk about publishers when I’m talking about books, but there’s something about Fahrenheit’s project — and the books they put out — that draws your attention. Dead is Better is typical of FP — a mix of darkness and light, unlikely protagonists, unlikely crime-solvers, and atypical crimes (at least as far as crime fiction goes).

Charles Stone is our protagonist, but he’s not really the character that will grab your imagination. That’d be Rose — but we’ll get to her in a moment. Charles is dead — very dead, shot several times. His ghost carries the wounds, as well as the clothing, even the hospital ID bracelet, from the time he died. He can’t remember the shooting however, and can’t think of a reason why he’d be shot. He’s (to his reckoning) no one important, and it doesn’t seem anyone around him even cares enough to kill him/arrange for his killing. After a little bit, he starts to come up with a possible motive or two. But his murder doesn’t seem to be the thing he’s most curious about. What he’d really like to know is, why does he have a constant companion?

Rose is a dog. Well, technically, she was a dog, now she’s the ghost of one. We don’t know why she’s alongside Charles, but she’s been with him the entire time he’s been a ghost. It seems that she had a really unpleasant life; and at last, in Charles, has someone caring for her. Rose is not going to challenge Crais’ Maggie, Quinn’s Chet, or Hearne’s Oberon anytime soon as the greatest dog in fiction — which is not a dig. Rose is great, she’s just not legendary. Rose does have one thing going for her that the other’s don’t — she’s pretty realistic (not that the others don’t have their moments — but even Maggie gets Point-of-View chapters), she can only communicate through suggestion — and even then, the people around her have to guess. Sometimes, they guess wrong.

The two begin investigating Charles’ murder — with the occasional glance at his family and former life. But before long, Charles becomes convinced he’s not around to look into his death, but something else. Rose, somehow, seems to know more about what’s going on than Charles, but he’s the one who needs to do the work. The pair do uncover some answers — and others uncover some others (I’m not convinced that all the answers the readers/Charles are given about anything beyond the main crime are correct, but . . . ).

More importantly, Charles finds a measure of redemption — sure, it might be too late, but nevertheless, there is some. You get the idea that if he maybe had a dog while living, he might’ve turned out to be a better person. Sure, that describes most of humanity to me, so I responded to that, but I think Perry sells it well enough that just about anyone would.

I’ve often thought of trying to do an Urban Fantasy for NaNoWriMo featuring a ghost, but I’ve never figured how to bridge the communication gap between the living and the dead without it feeling like a cheat. I liked Perry’s solution to this (I worry about the sequel repeating it — but that’s not my problem, is it?). I’m not convinced that the police could’ve/would’ve used the information that Charles got to them, but in the moment — you don’t care, you’re just glad that someone did something.

This is a fast and lean read — Perry doesn’t waste a word (actually leaves a couple of them out, but nothing too distracting). You’ll grow to like Charles, you’ll want to adopt Rose, and you’ll want to finds out what happens to them next. Thankfully, their story will continue in Dead is Best.

—–

4 Stars

Risen by M. T. Miller

By HCNewton

On March 15, 2016

In Fantasy, Fiction, M. T. Miller

Risen: First Book of the Nameless Chronicle

by M. T. Miller
Series: The Nameless Chronicle, #1

Kindle, 87 pg.
2016

Read: March 11, 2016

This kicks off with one of my favorite first chapters in months. Sure, it only takes a second or two to know what’s going on in it, but it’s really well done, even if it isn’t a mystery (I’m not sure it was supposed to be, but it seemed that way). Risen grabbed me right off and didn’t let go until the end.

Our protagonist is suffering some sort of amnesia — he doesn’t know who he is, where he is — even when he is. He finds himself in a city that’s definitely seen better days. It’s pretty much the poster child for dystopian ruins — Chicago in Divergent, for example. But with fewer people (maybe).

He enlists the assistance of a homeless man to guide him through both the culture and geography of this city and the surrounding. They encounter a street gang that seems to run just about all the city, a severely under-staffed church that seems to be just about the only place in town not run by the gang, and an extended family (of sorts) that lives outside the city.

And by “encounter,” on the whole, I’m speaking of the violent type. Nameless remembers very little, but he seems to remember how to fight. Each fight does tell us a little more about the world and Nameless, so they’re not just fun bits of gratuitous violence.

There’s some supernatural stuff going on (not just in this city, but on the other side of the country), possibly Spiritual forces (in the religious sense), and . . . who knows what all, really?

All this is told with grim humor and a strong narrative voice that keeps the reader engaged in the story and characters — not just in the “I wonder what’s going on in this strange world” kind of way. Even knowing practically nothing about Nameless (making me a lot like him), I liked him as a character and want to read more about him.

My one complaint is length — just about everything is too short. The story is too short, most of the scenes are, too. But I’m pretty sure that’s just my wanting more for myself — to give us longer scenes would ruin the pacing, would mess with the way Miller’s constructing the series. And really, when you get down to it “I wanted more!” is more of a compliment than a complaint — but I’m calling it one nonetheless.

A fast, gripping read that’ll leave you wanting more. A perfect little palate-cleanser between heavy reads. I’m eagerly waiting for further adventures of Nameless and finding out more about him and his world.

Disclaimer: I was provided a copy of Risen by the author in exchange for an honest (and, it turns out, over a month overdue) review.

—–

3.5 Stars

Morning Star by Pierce Brown

By HCNewton

On March 4, 2016

In Fiction, Pierce Brown, Red Rising, Science Fiction

Morning Star

by Pierce Brown
Series: Red Rising, #3

Hardcover, 518 pg.
Del Rey, 2016

Read: February 24 – March 3, 2016

“There is no pain. Only joy,” they chant, deep in the embrace of the god’s bread. Sefi begins the war bellow. Her voice higher than Ragnar’s. Her two wing-sisters join her. Then their wing-sisters, until dozens fill the com with their song, giving me a sense of grandeur as my mind tells my body to flee. This is why the Obsidians chant. Not to sow terror. But to feel brave, to feel kinship, instead of isolation and fear.

Sweat drips down my spine.

Fear is not real.

Holiday deactivates her safety.

“Njar la tagag . . . ”

My razor goes rigid.

PulseWeapon shudders and whines, priming.

Body trembles. Mouth full of ashes. Wear the mask. Hide the man. Feel nothing. See everything. Move and kill. Move and kill. I am not a man. They are not men.

The chanting swells. . . “Syn tir rjyka!”

Fear is not real.

If you’re watching, Eo, it’s time to close your eyes.

The Reaper has come. And he’s brought hell with him.

And when The Reaper, Darrow of Lykos, says he’s brought hell with him, you’d best believe it.

With books that come later in a series — especially with the last volume — there are huge expectations and hopes. Sometimes the book’s a disappointment; sometimes it’s as good as you hoped — every now and then, it’s better than you’d hoped. And then there are the times you get something like Morning Star. I want to avoid hyperbole, and I don’t want to over-sell, so let me just say that Pierce Brown delivered. I’m not sure how to talk about this book — one of my most anticipated reads of 2016 — other than to say it did not disappoint in the slightest, and if it doesn’t find its way to my favorite reads of 2016, I’d be flummoxed (although that would mean we have an unbelievably good 9 months ahead).

We pick up about a year after Golden Son — well, that’s not true. We start off with one of those aggravating teases for events later in the book before starting the actual story. If I’m going to complain about it in Freedom’s Child a couple of weeks ago, I’d better complain about it here. Thankfully, it’s a brief tease and you can forget it quickly because Chapter 1 doesn’t wait too long to get to the brutality that this series is so capable of bringing, making you forget about trivial things like bad ways to start a novel. I’m not going to get into the plot — if you’re curious, start with Red Rising and catch up. If you’ve read one or two of these books, I just want to assure you that you should grab this.

Red Rising was like the love child of Ender’s Game and The Hunger Games hopped up on amphetamines, steroids and too much Red Bull. Golden Sun was a roller coaster of stomach-lurching twists and turns and shattered hopes. Morning Star has elements of both, but it also reads like a series of climatic scenes from epic novels and movies stacked on top of one another — Jackson’s The Lord of The Rings + Gladiator + The Patriot + a few more things like that on the day that Michael settles all family business. Somehow, Brown keeps the tension mounting from chapter to chapter, in a way that every battle, every encounter feels like it could be the novel’s climax. Yet when the actual climax happens you’re not prepared.

Having been trained by Golden Son, I spent a lot of time expecting a betrayal, waiting for the sucker punch I knew was coming. But it wasn’t that kind of book^* — it was a book of hard choices — even compromises (the good kind) — of people doing the right thing, to the best of their understanding. Not always the best for themselves, but the best for their principles, their loved ones, their people. Family — biological family, extended family, found family — is a major theme throughout. It shouldn’t be surprising considering that this all started with a husband and wife, but when you think of The Red Rising Trilogy, family isn’t one of the first words that come to mind. Well, after you read this, it might be.

Lieutenant Commander Worf, son of Mogh, would’ve approved of so much of the action here (on both sides). The pages dripped with honor and nobility (in both classic and more modern understandings of the concepts). Despite it being a mainstay in fiction, I have a hard time buying the concept of noble deaths, but man . . . there’s one roughly midway through the that got me in just the right way. The dying was a little more protracted than Brown’s typical practice, giving him time to do more with it narratively. It was such a good piece of writing (even if all the individual elements in the scene were cliché), it’s one of the most effective parts of the series. Once it starts, you know what’s happening, you know how the effects of it will play out, but it still works. It’s like the da da da dummm at the beginning of the 5th — everyone knows it, but if an orchestra does it right? It’s powerful stuff.

Like a good general — Brown’s always a few steps ahead of the reader, well, me. As before, he surprised me all the time. There were a couple of times that I came close to seeing his play — technically — but his actual move was so much better than I’d guessed, I might as well have been moving checkers around his chess board.

Before I came across the section I quoted in my opening, I was going to use:

Now I remember hate.

I’m glad I didn’t. Morning Star isn’t about that. After Golden Son (or after Eo’s death), that’s what you expect: Darrow going all John Wick/Beatrix Kiddo/Frank Castle, but that’s not what the book is. Darrow is much more than a vengeance-machine. He’s more than rage, more than hatred — he’s full of both, no mistake. But that’s not all that’s driving him.

And because there’s more to him, the book — the series — is elevated to something beyond a great SF/Action romp. When Darrow, his friends and/or his army say something, do something to send a message, more often than not, it’s inspiring, at the very least, stirring. In the end, Darrow’s mission isn’t about destroying the Golds (although there is plenty of destruction), it’s something more.

The question is, can he fulfill this mission? What would that look like? It is so close to the final page when you get the actual answers to those (and all the other) questions you have.

Oh yeah, and Brown made me laugh out loud once. There were heartwarming moments, moments of joy, moments of awe. In the midst of the chaos, the violence, the destruction, and all the blood? Rays of humanity everywhere.

Simply put, this is the perfect conclusion for this fantastic series. I can’t think of a more fitting way for Brown to have concluded things. If you liked Red Rising and Golden Son, you’ll love this.

—
^* Which isn’t to say that there aren’t gut punches.

—–

Opening Lines – Morning Star

By HCNewton

On February 25, 2016

In Authors, Blog Series, Currently Reading, Fiction, News/Misc., Opening Lines, Pierce Brown, Quotations, Red Rising, Science Fiction

We all know we’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover (yet, publishing companies spend big bucks on cover design/art). But, the opening sentence(s)/paragraph(s) are fair game. So, when I stumble on a good opening (or remember one and pull it off the shelves), I’ll throw it up here. Dare you not to read the rest of the book.

Deep in darkness, far from warmth and sun and moons, I lie, quiet as the stone that surrounds me, imprisoning my hunched body in a dreadful womb. I cannot stand. Cannot stretch. I can only curl in a ball, a withered fossil of the man that was. Hands cuffed behind my back. Naked on cold rock.

All alone with the dark.

It seems months, years, millennia since my knees have unbent, since my spine has straightened from its crooked pose. The ache is madness. My joints fuse like rusted iron. How much time has passed since I saw my Golden friends bleeding out into the grass? Since I felt gentle Roque kiss my cheek as he broke my heart?

Time is no river.

Not here.

In this tomb, time is the stone. It is the darkness, permanent and unyielding, its only measure the twin pendulums of life — breath and the beating of my heart.

In. Buh . . . bump. Buh . . . bump.

Out. Buh . . . bump. Buh . . . bump.

In. Buh . . . bump. Buh . . . bump.

And forever it repeats.

from Morning Star by Pierce Brown

Reposting: The Absconded Ambassador by Michael R. Underwood

By HCNewton

On February 23, 2016

In Authors, Fiction, Genrenauts, Michael R. Underwood, Science Fiction

It’s Publication Day for The Absconded Ambassador, so I thought I’d better throw this up again. Go get your hands on it.
—

The Absconded Ambassador

by Michael R. Underwood
Series: Genrenauts, Episode 2ARC, 159 pg.
Tor.com, 2016
Read: December 31, 2015

Working as a Genrenaut was like being a member of a theater troupe run by a burnt-out hippie who melded Devising with MBA management: the ideas were outlandish and random, but the execution was 100% corporate.

Now this was a way to close out 2015 — the second episode in Michael R. Underwood’s Genrenauts delivers on the promise of Episode 1, and demonstrates that his special alchemy of Leverage + The Librarians + Quantum Leap + Thursday Next (just my current guess at his secret recipe) has legs — and will hopefully go a long time.

Leah has had about a week to get used to this new reality since her adventure in Western World — a week filled with meetings, reading assignments and trying to wrap her head around things. In the meanwhile, everyone at Genrenauts HQ is trying to prepare for the next breach (in the midst of a spike of 15% over the norm, for your corporate types), probably in Romance World. Which obviously means it’ll be pretty much anywhere else, like say Science Fiction World.

The station of Ahura-3, in the space opera region, to be specific. I’m sure the similarity between the name of the station and a certain Communications Officer is a huge coincidence. Ahura-3 is everything you want in a space station — it’s a melting pot of very-alien-looking/acting aliens, it’s a culture to itself, with strategic location, and very delicate intergalactic politics.

Leah’s excitement about being in “honest-to-goodness, Sally Ride is my homegirl zero-g” space was infectious. But even more fun was the amount of SF references Underwood fit into half of chapter 1 — truly astounding, and didn’t feel forced or overcrowded. He deserves a tip of the cap right there. I made it all the way to page 42 without having to Google one of them (I think there was only one other time I had to grab my smart phone). But the fun’s not limited to the references and allusions — it’s in the alien cultural practices (and appearances), the various factions (human and otherwise), businesses, and just watching the whole Science Fiction World thing at work.

One thing that’s been niggling at the back of my mind with these Episodes is what’s to keep Leah from being Ree Reyes 2.0? Underwood seems to be going with keeping Leah from the more Parker/Eliot Spencer-type roles and moving her into the Sophie Devereau/Alec Hardison-type roles. She and Shirin scramble all over the station trying to keep treaty negotiations moving forward. They’re thinking on their feet, using their wits, charm and SF knowledge to keep things under control — Leah’s on-the-job training under Shirin helps the readers acclimate to this world, too. The action-hero needs are served by the rest of the team, Roman and King — whose banter while throwing punches, engaging in dogfights, and so on, kept the fun going (honestly, maybe was a little more fun than the rest).

In Episode 1, I wondered if the pilot nature of the novella kept it from being everything I wanted it to be. The Absconded Ambassador built on that ground work and gave us a solid, fully-formed adventure — everything I hoped it would be. And that’s just in the main story, there’s all this other stuff going on: not only do we have a sense of impending doom — or at least very big crisis — coming to the Multi-Genre-Verse. But now we’ve got some sort of secret within the team (not one that’s going to cause much trouble, I don’t think — but you never know), and (according to the preview for Episode 3) maybe some intra-team conflict. Underwood just nailed here, and Genrenauts is about half-a-novella away from being his most consistently entertaining work.

I won a copy of this in a drawing on the author’s website — which means I got to read it two months early — and I got a very nice autograph on the title page. The downside is, I have to wait longer than I’d have had to wait otherwise between Episodes 2 and 3. I still came out ahead, but not by much.

—–

4 Stars

Talking to the Dead by Harry Bingham

By HCNewton

On February 18, 2016

In Fiction, Fiona Griffiths, Harry Bingham, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller

Talking to the Dead

by Harry Bingham
Series: Fiona Griffiths, #1

Hardcover, 337 pg.
Delacorte Press, 2012

Read: February 16 – 17, 2016

One thing I need to do a better job of is remembering how I found out about a book/series/author that I need to try, this novel is a great example of why. I remember putting it on my TBR, and that there was something about it that made me move it ahead of the others — but I can’t tell you when or why I did so. Sometimes, like with this book, that drives me crazy. I just had to trust that I knew what I was doing when I picked it up. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to convince me that Fi Griffiths had something special going on — mostly it was the voice, the attitude, her humor as seen when she’s going through stacks and stacks of financial documents to make a case air-tight (before the inevitable guilty plea for ripping off a private school):

My desk is covered with paper. I loathe all banks and credit card companies. I hate every digit between 0 and 9. I despise every dopily run Catholic boys’ school in South Wales. If Brian Penry were in front of me now, I would try to force-feed him my calculator, which is as large and chewable as Bakelite phone.

It didn’t take too long before the merits of the case drew me in (not the drudgery of the case above, but the one that drove the novel’s action), and would have even without Fi’s narration. But it was a lock with her as a character. The grim nature of the killings grip the reader, the way they do Griffiths’ colleagues and superiors. What really impressed me was that it is one of the sickest, grossest descriptions of a corpse this side of a Bones episode — and Bingham doesn’t dwell on it — oh, he could’ve, and most authors would have. It’s there stark enough to give the reader the willies, in a just-the-facts-fashion, but Bingham doesn’t exploit the nature of the killing or the state of the body.

To put it charitably, Fi is quirky. To be more accurate, she’s suffering from a serious mental condition — she’s (mostly) got it under control, however. Social skills aren’t really in her wheelhouse — at least not automatically — which presents an additional challenge for her work. Early on, I kept picturing Diane Kruger’s performance from The Bridge, it diminished eventually, but I think Fi will always be Kruger-esque to me. We do eventually get actual information about her condition — which is nice, but we don’t need it to understand her enough to empathize with her. There’s an Author’s Note at the end with more details about the actual condition — don’t read it until the end. Get to know her absent the condition first.

Bingham creates a good bench of supporting characters — a potential boyfriend, a couple of supervisors (who have differing levels of concern for her), a former therapist, an old friend (former trainer/sensei-type), parents, sisters, and a few other detectives. One or more of these can be summoned from the bench with ease in the future, but we don’t get to spend a lot of time with any of them here — just enough to establish them. We spend some good time with her potential boyfriend, old friend/trainer/sensei and dad — I like them all and want to see more of them. But this is really Fi’s book and the narrative weight falls on her troubled, yet capable shoulders.

We hardly get an idea for what kind of men the bad guys are here — it’s just shadowy criminals, up to shadowy criminal things. I like the idea that we only get things through law enforcement eyes, not through the killer’s — that happens far too often for my taste. Like Fi says, I know this way we don’t get the full story, but I prefer not being in the mind of the sickos at work here. We, and the police, get most of the story in the end, and that’s good enough for me.

The book closes with a couple of the most heartfelt, moving scenes that I can think of in Detective Fiction (give me time, and I could probably make a decent list of competitors, still pretty sure this would be near the top — sure, that scene in Gone, Baby, Gone has this beat, but not many others would). I had a hard time believing that it would work as effectively given the fact this is a first novel for the character — but Bingham has laid a lot of ground work to get us ready for these moments, and it paid off well.

Talking to Strangers grabbed me in just the right way. I want to devote the next few days to just reading the rest if this series (I won’t, I know I need to pace myself, but… Oh, I really want to just binge). Fi is an early leader for favorite character of the year (a thing I just decided to do).

—–

4 Stars

Reread Project: The Restaurant at the End of the Universe by Douglas Adams

By HCNewton

On February 16, 2016

In A-B, Authors, Douglas Adams, Fiction, Reread Project, Science Fiction, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

I think WordPress’ spell-check might explode if I add another sentence or two to this….
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The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

by Douglas Adams
Series: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Trilogy, #2

Mass Market Paperback, 245 pg.
Ballantine Books, 1995

Read: February 13-15, 2016

If you’ve done six impossible things this morning, why not round it off with a breakfast at Milliways, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe?

I think in the past, I’ve enjoyed The Restaurant at the End of the Universe more than this time, but I’m not sure why. Which is not to say that I didn’t have a blast, I just usually have more fun. From the intricate — and death-defying — difficulty of making a good cup of tea; to the extreme lengths some people will go to for a dining experience; to perspective that a little cake can give; to considering what color a wheel should be or whether fire should be nasally-inserted — this book covers all the bases. While still episodic in nature, it seems less so than its predecessor — and far less so than its successor. It’s a stronger novel, not quite as funny, but still better than most “funny” or “light” SF than you’ll find.

[Gargravarr] had rather liked Zaphod Beeblebrox in a strange sort of way. He was clearly a man of many qualities, even if they were mostly bad ones.

Most of this book showcased the ex-President of the Galaxy, Zaphod Beeblebrox the First (how is great-grandfather was Zaphod the Fourth lies in one of the best lies Adams ever penned). Now Zaphod’s not my favorite character — actually, I typically dislike him as a character. As a joke-generator, a font of one-liners? He’s great. Probably most of the quotable lines in this book are his (even Arthur’s best line is immediately denigrated by him “Yeah, and don’t you wish you hadn’t?”).

We see the reason for his stealing of The Heart of Gold in the last book, we’re taken on a wild and twisty ride for him to complete his quest and then . . . it just stops. I’m sure it’s supposed to be in an absurd way or something, but it seems pointless (probably the point).

And then we’re off to Milliways. Ahhh, Milliways — this is an absolutely perfect part of the book. That this is the book’s title is absolutely fitting. There’s nothing about it I don’t like here — Max Quordlepleen’s banter (the oddly bittersweet introduction of him), Hotblack Desiato (and his tax plan), the Dish of the Day . . . I’m going to shut up before I just copy and paste the whole thing.

The rest of the book focuses on Arthur (and Ford, but, a little less), who I like, but don’t laugh at nearly as much.

“Poor Arthur, you’re not really cut out for this life are you?” [Trillian asked]
“You call this life?”

Something I’ve been thinking about this read-through is this: why Arthur? He’s one of Ford’s oldest friends on Earth — but we know he has multiple friends, he could’ve picked any of them — why Arthur? Surely, Ford would’ve had at least an inkling that Arthur would turn into the whiny Monkey-man that Zaphod can’t stand. It’s easy to see why Tricia McMillan would go off with Zapod as Phil over this wet blanket, well, towel. Trillian here has the same thought — and if we’re given a good explanation for that, I don’t remember it. Any of you have a guess (or a quotation) to justify Ford’s improbable choice?

Now, I may have sounded less that totally satisfied with this book — which is oddly true. I do think the Golgafrinchan Ark Fleet Ship B story is pretty “blah” and goes on far too long (into the next book). But it gives us gems like this:

It is a curious fact, and one to which no one knows quite how much importance to attach, that something like 85 percent of all known worlds in the Galaxy, be they primitive or highly advanced, have invented a drink called jynnan tonnyx, or gee-N-N-T’Nix, or jinond-o-nicks, or any one of a thousand or more variations on the same phonetic theme. The drinks themselves are not the same, and vary between the Sivolvian “chinanto/mnigs” which is ordinary water served at slightly above room temperature, and the Gagrakackan “tzjin-anthony-ks” which kills cows at a hundred paces; and in fact the one common factor between all of them, beyond the fact that the names sound the same, is that they were all invented and named before the worlds concerned made contact with any other worlds.

making it hard to complain too much.

There are a lot of laughs to be had here — I didn’t even mention Marvin’s contributions, which were just gold. And any time with Adams is worth it. A must-read follow-up to the classic, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

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4 Stars