Category: Fiction Page 297 of 341

Mass Market Paperback, 384 pg.
Roc, 2014
Read: September 9 – 12, 2014

I spent a lot of time staring at a blank screen trying to figure out how to talk about this. I came close to just posting, “This is seriously effed-up. But in a good way. Read it!”

Really, that might have been the way to go. But let’s give this a try…

Premonitions is not your typical Urban Fantasy. Karyn isn’t full of spunk, battling her way through some challenges with only her wits, a snappy line and her powers in a quest to defeat evil/save a life/protect justice. Nope, all she’s trying to do is survive. Same for the rest of her gang — they steal, they work only to make it to the next day. They’re not well off, they’re really not even comfortable — borderline desperate, really. So when they’re given the opportunity to split a 2 million dollar score, it’s an offer they cannot refuse (in many ways)

In this world, magic — or precognitive abilities — come with a price. A nasty, dirty, life-altering price. Neither the magic or the precog life seems at all worth it — and with one possible exception, everyone we meet in these pages with some sort of ability realizes that. Yet, those who can choose to pay that price or not, keep coming back to it. Karyn, on the other hand has no choice. Her abilities come with horrible hallucinations that she has to keep suppressed with a drug. Which is, of course, hard to find and only available on the black market. So like any good junkie, she steals to support her habit. Karyn’s psychic ability is like a less-pretty, less specific and more unreliable version of Alex Verus’ magic. Not that I think for a second that Schultz was going for that — it’s just what occurred to me as I read. I like the slightly different take on the idea.

Premonitions is a Heist story — so, of course, things go horribly wrong (that’s the point of these, right?), it’s watching how this particular band of thieves respond to this that makes this compelling. In fact, the broad brush strokes of the plot are pretty apparent within the first few pages — this isn’t a knock on Schultz, it’s just evidence that he knows what he’s doing. This is a classic Heist story, told in his own particular way, with his unique blend of characters — thieves, marks and obstacles.

We have two central characters — Karyn and Anna, with a crew of others — magicians(is that the word?), an ex-Marine and — well, some others they pick up along the way. Years ago, Karyn and Anna become friends, and for reasons we’re not privy to, and Anna may not fully recognize, Anna hitched her wagon to Karyn. She could’ve gone off and had a successful career, family, and whatnot. Instead, she’s a criminal scratching by, doing all she can to help her friend make it to the next day.

That’s the heart of this novel — the friendship between these two. Their dedication to each other, to each other’s needs, wants, desires and lives — and by extension, those members of their team, romantic partners, and miscellaneous allies. There’s no flashy swords, or government conspiracies, or prince to rescue — but this is really a one for all and all for one group. As long as they remember that.

There is a pervasive atmosphere that characterizes this novel, a mood. The whole thing is dark and moody. In my mind, it looks like the sets from Season 1 of The Wire, lit by whoever picked the look for Blade Runner. This gives it a different feel than most of your Urban Fantasies on the market. Not that they’re all rainbows and unicorns, but there is a “blue sky” feel to Urban Fantasies by Underwood, Butcher, Hearne, Harrison, Briggs and whatnot — that is not shared here. Schultz is not Richard Kadray-dark, but he’s close. Honestly, this reminded me of the Twenty Palaces world of Harry Connolly. Obviously, the magic system is different — but I’d have no problem at all seeing Ray Lilly and Annalise Powliss bump into Karyn and her crew (thankfully, I’m pretty sure their magic isn’t the sort that Annalise would feel compelled to eliminate anyone).

When I was 34 pages from the end of the book, I jotted down a note: “Not only do I have no clear idea how all this will end (frankly, I didn’t see what happened three pages ago happening), but I also have no clue what a sequel to this looks like.” That’s not normal, that says a lot about how Schultz is working. Now, by the end of the novel, that wasn’t the case — I had a clear idea what to expect Splintered to be like (I’m also prepared to be totally wrong). But to be that close to the end, and not sure what’s around the corner? That’s pretty cool. To be fair, it could be that I was being dumb — but I’m going to give the credit to Schultz for keeping me on my toes.

Give this one a try, folks, don’t think you’ll be sorry.

—–

Note: I was provided a copy of this by the author, who seems like a pretty cool guy — which made the fact that I really enjoyed this a relief.

—–

4 Stars

The Girl With All the Gifts by M.R. Carey

By HCNewton

On September 24, 2014

In Fiction

The Girl With All the Gifts

by M.R. Carey

Hardcover, 403 pg.
Orbit, 2014
Read: September 22 – 23, 2014

I HATE ZOMBIE STORIES, I should get that out of the way up front.

So why this book? Well, I put this book on my TBR list based on a tweet from the director of the most recent Much Ado About Nothing movie and a vague, yet promising, book blurb. If I’d waited until it was reviewed, or more detailed descriptions were available, I probably wouldn’t have started this. Having started it, and then figuring out what it’s about, I stopped reading it several times during the first two hundred pages — but I kept finding myself in waiting rooms, or just waiting for something, with nothing else to read — or was curious about how the next chapter would deal with plot point X. Before I knew it, I was 50% done, so I might as well finish.

There’s a little more to it than that — this book just got me, and I couldn’t stop reading it, really. Little Melanie — in all her innocent, caring, devoted, Zombie genius glory, is delightful. This book is a wonderful combination of childhood optimism, stark darkness, hope, love, despair and megalomania . . . told in a voice that’s in the same breath amusing and gut wrenching.

This is another one of those that I don’t know how to talk about without spoiling in on multiple fronts. Carey (author of the Felix Castor UF books and The Unwritten comics — and many other things I haven’t gotten around to) has created something special here, something unlike anything else I’ve read from him. Think Let the Right One In, but endearing and without the creepy sexual vibe. That’s not entirely accurate, but it’s not inaccurate, either.

I guess let’s just leave it as this: it’s a zombie novel, that I couldn’t put down and almost gave 5 stars to. Pretty remarkable accomplishment by my standards.

—–

4 1/2 Stars

Reread Project: Indigo Slam by Robert Crais

By HCNewton

On September 23, 2014

In Authors, Blog Series, Elvis Cole/Joe Pike, Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, Reread Project, Robert Crais

Indigo Slam

by Robert Crais
Series: Elvis Cole, #7

Mass Market Paperback, 320 pg.
Fawcett Books, 2003
Read: September 16 – 17, 2014

This, right here, is the low point for the Elvis Cole series. So why, you ask, do you give this 3 stars? Am I just that much of a mindless fanboy?

Well, probably. But that’s not it. One’s appreciation for this novel has everything to do with what you think of the clients. If you like them, see something in them that teaches us something about Elvis — you’ll probably like this book. If not, well, this’ll likely be a tougher read for you. Now, me? I liked the kids, especially Teri, the Fifteen year-old eldest sister, and substitute mom. Little sister Winona’s clearly adorable, Charles is a punk clearly in need of a strong male authority figure. Either individually, or considered as a group, I liked the kids — and therefore, when they ask the World’s Greatest Detective to find their absentee dad – I cared.

If it was almost anyone else looking for their dad, Clark, I can’t imagine caring. Once Elvis found him, I quickly reached the point where I didn’t care if Elvis was able to help him, as long as the kids would be alright.

Towards the end of the book, both Elvis and Joe make a major blunder that almost gets all of them killed. And sure, I don’t necessarily expect the two to have everything worked out before they take action — but there was evidence enough that they could’ve been on their toes security-wise and not almost got killed in the process. Not only do they miss the pretty obvious conclusion, they don’t even see that there’s a conclusion to be found. I’ve read Indigo four times now, and it distracts and detracts each time.

What makes Elvis’ (and, to be fair, Joe’s) blunder so egregious, was that it was hot on the heels of Elvis’ latest cunning plan. Some of these plans he comes up with to get his clients/clients’ families out of hot water stretch credulity, this one takes the cake. As Blackadder would say, it’s “a plan so cunning, you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel!” I can’t believe that anyone would go along with it — beyond the desperate family, that is — but not only do a group of criminals/revolutionaries, but Elvis gets multiple federal agencies to sign off. And it works. Mostly.

But somehow the book works. For two independent reasons: 1. As I stated previously, because of the clients — I bought into them. And 2., Because of the Lucy Story.

There was just something I liked about these kids and their plight — I believed it, I could see it. I enjoyed watching Elvis and Joe interact with them (really sick of Joe as baby sitter, let him do a little more, Elvis!)

There’s a little bit of a Lucy story, not as big as in the last two novels, but it’s there, and it’s an important development of what started in Sunset Express. But more than that, it’s a chance for Elvis to demonstrate the sensitive, caring male that he is. For Lucy to be an independent woman. And for the reader to see that this isn’t going to be a relationship that’s only wine and roses. Yes, Elvis is still the giddy, goofy guy in love making kissy sounds over the phone. But he’s also an adult who respects his partner.

Not a whole lot (other than Joe and Lucy) to tie this one to earlier novels — Elvis continues to use Lou Poitras and Eddie Ditko as his own personal (anachronistic) Google. And Elvis’ actions in Free Fall end up paying off for him, which was nice to see.

In the end, this was pretty blah. There were some nice character moments, a few chuckles, a nice firefight or two..but that’s really it. Not much going for it at all, which is a shame. Not the way that Phase 1 for Elvis Cole should end — but the parts that are a prequel for Phase 2 were strong enough (you’ll have to read L. A. Requiem to better understand that).

—–

3 Stars

—–

Drawing by Kirsty Stewart, chameleonkirsty on deviantART, used with permission.

Doctor Who: Silhouette by Justin Richards

By HCNewton

On September 19, 2014

In Fiction

Doctor Who: Silhouette

by Justin Richards

Series: Doctor Who

Trade Paperback, 256 pg.
Broadway Books, 2014
Read: September 18, 2014

I’d just said few weeks back how I hadn’t read any tie-in novels for a bit, when the good people at Blogging for Books offered this. Seemed like a good way to get back into them.

Things got off to a rough start when the argument that the Doctor and Clara were having about their next destination (she wants to meet King Arthur, he wants to go somewhere else) reminded me too much of the argument in “Robot of Sherwood” — but there’s a great punchline that redeemed it. They don’t head off to Camelot, because the Doctor finds some sort of sign of nuclear power in Victorian London which seems far more urgent.

The Doctor doesn’t want to trouble Madam Vastra and her crew when they can take care of this themselves. Besides, The Great Detective is investigating a locked-room murder, and Strax is off looking into the death of a friend. I’m sure no one at all will be surprised to discover that the investigations are soon intertwined. And we’re off to the races — peril, aliens, impossible weapons, The Shadow Proclamation, Strax being Strax. Loads of fun.

This story is best suited for a novel rather than a TV episode — it’s just unfilmable. Too many special effects, too large a cast, plot couldn’t be boiled down into the less than 60-minutes necessity. But it feels like an bonus-length episode, right kind of pace, right kind of mix of tension and humor. In other words — exactly what this kind of book is supposed to be.

Here’s the only thing I didn’t like about this — Richard’s characterization of The Doctor. Which, yeah, is a pretty significant piece in a Doctor Who novel. But here’s the thing, this thing came out September 9 and season 8 premiered August 23. So, I’m betting while Richards had plenty of access to scripts and whatnot, he hadn’t seen a final cut of an episode starring Capaldi before he finished this (maybe one or two — definitely not a lot of them). So he couldn’t really capture the full flavor of the Twelfth Doctor. He could get some of it — the stuff that’s in the script — but all the intangibles, gravitas, the full je ne sais quoi that only happens when an actor becomes the character wasn’t available for Richards. I’d like to read something he writes after the end of season 8 just to see if he can capture it — I’m betting he can (he nailed the characterizations of Clara, Vastra, Jenny and Strax).

Still, this is just the sort of thing for the fan who can’t be satisfied with twelve episodes of TARDIS-based adventure.

—
Note:I received this book for free from Blogging for Books for this review. Which was generous and cool of them, but didn’t impact what I said about the book.

—–

3 Stars

Reread Project: Sunset Express by Robert Crais

By HCNewton

On September 17, 2014

In Authors, Blog Series, Elvis Cole/Joe Pike, Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, Reread Project, Robert Crais

Sunset Express by Robert Crais
Series: Elvis Cole, #6

Hardcover, 288 pg.
Hyperion, 1996
Read: September 10, 2014

There are two stories being told by Crais in this book — yes, interwoven and interdependent — but two stories. The fun one involves Lucy Chenier coming out to LA for work and to see Elvis. She brings along her son to make it a little family vacation. When Elvis gets the news, he becomes a different person than we’ve seen before — or at least a more intense version of something we saw in Voodoo River, but that’s about it. He’s a lovestruck fool — very clearly — and Crais does a great job of portraying him that way. Yes, the World’s Greatest Detective can, of course, get his mind focused on work when necessary, but off the clock, he’s a grinning victim of Cupid. The two of them together are cute, charming, and can’t help but want to see them together a lot more.

The story focusing on Elvis’ professional life isn’t nearly as fun, heartwarming or cute. But Elvis gets to be snarky and ironic, and do the typical Elvis things (investigate, make jokes people don’t get, and even use his fists and gun a little). Jonathan Green — high-profile attorney in the F. Lee Bailey, Robert Shapiro, Johnnie Cochran, etc. mold — and his team of associates (and a camera crew), hire Elvis to help with the defense in the trial of Teddy Martin. Teddy Martin’s a celebrity restaurateur accused of the brutal murder of his wife — a pretty open and shut case, it seems. But Green’s people are getting tips like crazy and they need additional investigators to comb through them. One of the more promising tips involves allegations of one of the detectives in the case planting evidence in previous cases. Elvis agrees to investigate Det. Angela Rossi and track down other tips, but insists he’ll report the truth, not what will necessarily help the case — Green agrees to this, insisting that’s all he wants. Elvis gets to work and finds some quick results. But it’s not too long before he sees a stark discontinuity between what he finds ot about Rossi and other tips and how that information is being used by the defense.

Sunset Express is hindered by having one of those plots that people who read (or watch) a lot of detective novels will realize is problematic in a way the characters can’t. Everything in Elvis’ case moves along too smoothly. Now, in Lullaby Town and Voodoo River, for example, his investigation goes pretty smoothly, but you can tell that the plot complications are going to come from what happens as a result of his work. Here, you can tell there’s something wrong with the answers he’s finding. Yet, Elvis doesn’t have our perspective, he can’t tell he’s getting yanked around. It’s frustrating, just sitting around waiting for things to dawn on him so he can catch up to us.

As frustrating (please note I didn’t say it wasn’t compelling) as that storyline is, the relationship material with Elvis and Lucy (and, with Ben to a lesser degree) is great. The whole book could’ve been built around that (and arguably was) and I’d have been happy. It’s good to see that the two have kept their long-distance relationship going. She’s clearly good for him (and, I think, him for her) — even if the reader can’t tell that for certain, all you have to do is watch how Joe reacts to her.

It wouldn’t be an Elvis Cole book without some good natured humor at Joe’s expense, for example:

I called Joe Pike to tell him that we were once more employed. His answering machine picked up on the first ring and beeped. He used to have a one-word message that just said, “Speak,” but I guess he felt it was long-winded. Now, there was just the beep. When I asked him how people were supposed to know who they had gotten or what to do, he’d said, “Intelligence test.” That Pike is something, isn’t he?

For a good chunk of this novel, it looks like Joe is going to be relegated to baby-sitting Ben. Now, granted, he seems to enjoy Ben and there are few people your kid is going to be safer with, but what a waste of our friend with the Aviator Glasses-fixation.

Of course, Rossi knows Joe. They used to work together back when Joe was on the force, and as of this point in the series, she is the member of the LAPD that doesn’t hate Joe. For more reasons than that, Joe respects her (although that can’t hurt), so when things start to go off the rails for her, Joe insists that his partner step up and clear her name. Joe’s not much help on the investigation front, but in the gun packing (and more), fast driving, and personal intensity departments? He’s aces.

Other little treats in this box of Cracker Jacks? The return of Ray Depente — I’d completely forgotten he came back in this one, and it was so nice to see him. He’s a lot of fun in his couple of scenes. And, Eddie Ditko is back, unpleasant and omniscient as ever.

As Free Fall featured Elvis’ reaction to/stance/meditation on L.A.’s racial divide and police corruption, this gives us his take on the manipulation of the legal system (and a healthy amount of support for the police — particularly in light of Free Fall). Elvis has understood the difference between the legal system and justice, and has worked outside (if not at odds with) the system before in the pursuit of justice. But this time, he was seeking justice — thought he’d helped various people find it — only to find his work, his self, his name used as a tool to twist the system into preventing justice being carried out. His ultimate solution to this problem is very effective, and would likely be far more effective today than it was 18(!!) years ago. Well done, Mr. Cole.

A strong satisfying read, with two storylines well worth reading, Sunset Express is a solid entry to this series, and the first step away from the Elvis Cole of the first stage of the series and into the next (see previous entry for my discussion of this). Sunset and Indigo Slam are the bridge between these stages, but properly belong to the first. Even ignoring my little theory of the stages/eras in the series, this is a strong and well-deserved follow-up to Voodoo River, our heroes are back in L.A., as are the criminals and Elvis lady friend. It’s enough to get another verse out of Randy Newman.

—–

3.5 Stars

—–

Drawing by Kirsty Stewart, chameleonkirsty on deviantART, used with permission.

The Scriptlings by Sorin Suciu

By HCNewton

On September 11, 2014

In Fiction

The Scriptlings

by Sorin Suciu

ebook, 372 pg.
Smashwords, 2014
Read: September 6 – 8, 2014

For reasons I can’t quite put my finger on (it may have something to do with all the Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett references I saw when reading about the book), I came to The Scriptlings with a degree of trepidation. But it didn’t take long for the book’s charm and wit to get me past that and buy into its premise and style.

Scriptlings are apprentice magicians. Magicians are born gifted — either from a magician parent or two, or the occasional child of muggle parents. Well, until now, anyway, but that’s not for me to say. For reasons that aren’t sufficiently described (and don’t need to be), each magician picks a name for themselves, the more disgusting the better. So we focus two Scriptlings and three Masters — Buggeroff, Merkin, Master Loo, Master Dung, and Master Sewer. Yeah, some of those names you really don’t want to spend that much time dwelling on, but thankfully, they quickly lose their typical connotation and just become strange names like something you’d find in any fantasy novel.

I should also mention Gertrude. The sentient and magical goat (Loo’s familiar) who occasionally thinks that she’s snake, and acts accordingly. At first, I thought she’d be a quick throwaway joke that we’d move on from quickly, but in the end, Gertrude’s a pivotal character, and brings a lot of the emotional weight to the plot.

It’s dangerous to try to quantify things like this (aside from actual word counts), but I’d wager that 1/3 of this book is made up of character and story, the other two thirds are style, attitude and jokes. I should stress this isn’t a complaint, or at least not a big one, anyway. Generally, I’d prefer that ratio to be 50/50 at least, but it works for this book. So yes, the plot is pretty slight — but you’re too busy being amused to worry about that. I should add that I really liked his use of footnotes, he’s not quite as good at it as Josh Bazell or Lisa Lutz, but who is?

I’ve seen the blending of magic and computers before, but not quite like Suciu has formulated it. That was clever enough in and of itself — you surround that with his humor and you’ve got yourself a fun way to spend a couple of hours. Ignore the Adams and Pratchett comparisons, think more Christopher Moore in Bloodsucking Fiends or You Suck. If you liked that, you’ll likely enjoy this.

This is billed as the first of a trilogy, I’m not sure I see where Suciu is headed, but I’m interested in seeing it.

—–

Note: The author was kind enough to provide me a copy of this book in exchange for a review.

—–

3 Stars

The Forsaken by Ace Atkins

By HCNewton

On September 10, 2014

In Ace Atkins, Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, Quinn Colson, Robert B. Parker, Spenser

How did I get so far behind that I haven’t written anything on The Forsaken yet? Ugh. When I get behind, I get behind.

—–

The Forsaken

by Ace Atkins
Series: Quinn Colson, #4
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Hardcover, 384 pg.
Putnam Adult, 2014
July 29 – 30, 2014

Atkins is at the point now where these Quinn Colson books seem automatic. Don’t mistake me — these are well-crafted, carefully plotted, richly detailed — Atkins’ labor is more than evident. But there’s something inevitable about the result of that effort. You don’t even have to wonder what you’re going to get anymore. If it’s Quinn Colson, it’s going to be good.

This also tends to make it hard to review these books, but I’ll give it a shot.

This time out Colson and Virgil are asked to investigate a cold case from a year or two before Colson was born, and when his less than ethical Uncle was Sheriff. Two teen girls walking home from Fourth of July festivities in Jericho were raped and one was murdered. Two days later, a black man, bearing no resemblance whatsoever to the perpetrator was lynched for the crime. Decades later, one father’s guilt and the mature strength of the survivor ask the now honest (at least when it comes to his job) Sheriff to find the man truly responsible. To say that this makes anyone involved unpopular in Jericho would be an understatement of the first degree.

Which is a shame, because right now, both Deputy and Sherriff could use some popularity. Colson’s feud with Johnny Stagg is getting hotter, a new election is on the horizon, and Stagg’s framing of Virgil for murder is looking stronger and stronger every day. On the other hand, one of the few men in this world that Stagg fears is about to be paroled and is likely to return to Jericho and rekindle their rivalry. Maybe Stagg could use a determined and honorable man in office after all.

Surrounding this is the town and people of Jericho, and their recovery from the recent devastating tornado. Colson’s sister, Caddy, has really seemed to find herself in her leadership in this area. It’s hard to recognize the woman from the first two books in what we see now. Even Colson’s having to admit that there might be something to his sister’s current state of sobriety and responsibility. Their father’s name came up in the course of his investigation, and for the first time in a very long while, Quinn Colson’s being forced to think about the man who abandoned his mother, sister and himself so long ago. Naturally, this is where the real heart of the novel is — the rest of it is merely the life around Quinn, this is Quinn’s inner life, his identity.

Not only are all of these strings in one way or another being woven together now, we begin to see that there might be ways in which they were tied together before and around that fateful Independence Day.

We don’t get a lot of resolution and closure to things in this novel — not unlike life in that regard, but we get to see some trajectories on most fronts, and that’s good enough. Character, setting, story, mood — all of it is just right for this story and this series. Atkins may be getting attention and sales from his Spenser novels, but his strength is here with Colson and the rest.

—–

4 Stars

Reread Project: Voodoo River by Robert Crais

By HCNewton

On September 9, 2014

In Authors, Blog Series, Elvis Cole/Joe Pike, Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, Reread Project, Robert Crais

36 hours behind schedule. For anyone tracking, I’m sorry and I’ll try to do better.

—–

Voodoo River

by Robert Crais
Series: Elvis Cole, #5

Mass Market Paperback, 416 pages
Published April 1st 1996 by Hyperion
Read: September 3 – 4, 2014

Many people see L. A. Requiem as the apex of the Cole series. For my money, Voodoo River is the apex of the series that began in The Monkey’s Raincoat — he’s thoughtful, more meditative, yet still jokey. There’s a greater sense of place than in most of the earlier books. Elvis is vulnerable, yet just as competent and confident as he’s been the whole time we’ve known him. I’ll explain my thinking here and different take on Requiem in a few weeks when we get to it.

Once again, we open with a great description of his new client:

“Excuse us, but are you Jodi Taylor?”
In the space of a breath Jodi Taylor put away the things that troubled her and smiled the smile that thirty million Americans saw every week. It was worth seeing. Jodi Taylor was thirty-six years old, and beautiful in the way that only women with a measure of maturity can be beautiful. Not like in a fashion magazine. Not like a model. There was a quality of realness about her that let you feel that you might meet her in a supermarket or in church or at the PTA. She had hazel eyes and dark skin and one front tooth slightly overlapped the other. When she gave you the smile her heart smiled, too, and you felt it was genuine. Maybe it was that quality that was making her a star.
. . .
Jodi smiled wider, and if you had never before met or seen her, in that moment you would fall in love.

When we meet her, Jodi Taylor is the star of one of the biggest shows on television, but thirty-six years ago when no one cared who she was, she was an orphan — given up for adoption by her mother. She was raised by a loving couple who she considers her parents — she’s not on a search for her roots, her “real” mother or anything like that. But she’s curious about her medical history, worried about what genetic time-bombs might be ticking away inside her. So she hires Elvis — on the recommendation of Peter Alan Nelson — to go to Louisiana and work with an attorney specializing in adoption to find her birth parents and get this information.

Despite the strictness of the adoption laws in the Pelican State, it seems like a pretty straight-forward case, and after arriving in Baton Rouge, sampling some local cuisine, and consulting with the attorney, Lucy Chenier, Elvis gets to work and it doesn’t take long for him to make some solid progress.

Here’s where complications set in: someone starts trailing Elvis as he investigates, this person seems to have some sort of criminal ties, and the biggest complication of all: Lucy Chenier. Elvis is smitten with her. Almost immediately, and more and more so in every conversation afterwards. This isn’t some sort of passing fancy, as was the case with Janet Simon; or the creepy, drunken attraction for Jennifer Sheridan; or whatever he had going with his office neighbor, Cindy. Elvis falls for this woman, hard. That’s clear for the reader straightaway, the only question is what impact that’ll have on Elvis, his current investigation, and maybe his future. Elvis even has the beginning of a relationship with her son, Ben.

As for the guy following him? He’s not that good at it, and he’s even worse at picking up a tail. Elvis is able to exploit his deficient skills and learn a few things that get him closer to finding Jodi’s mother. And that’s when things get really nasty — Elvis finds himself in the middle of a decades’ old crime, a murder investigation and caught between three criminal organizations. Given that, naturally, Joe finds himself in Louisiana, too.

So the first of the criminal enterprises is a local group — run by a good ol’ boy-type. Milt Rossier isn’t going to catch the attention of anyone i New York, Miami or even New Orleans. But in his small pond, he is one huge fish. He does a little bit of everything, has some very loyal employees (including a scary George and Lenny like pair) and an old, huge and vicious turtle named Luther. Luther is described as “a snapping turtle that had to be three feet across and weigh almost two hundred pounds. It was dark and primordial with a shell like tank armor and a great horned head and a monstrous beak.” Gives me the heebie-jeebies just to read about him. Milt reminded me of Domingo Garcia Duran from The Monkey’s Raincoat, using toreo to intimidate and threaten Elvis. However, Duran only served to anger Elvis, make him more determined. Milt and Luther? They brought out something we’d not yet seen in Elvis — we’ve sen him angry, we’ve seen him morose, we’ve seen him lost, but after his session with Luther? He’s shaken, he’s frightened to his core. I don’t know if it’s Milt, the reaction of the others there, or just Elvis’ reaction to the reptilian Luther versus the human threat of Duran — but it’s something deeper we see here.

Another one of the groups that Elvis tangles with is headed by Frank Escobar. Escobar’s a criminal mastermind who looks nothing like what you’d expect (which likely means he’s more realistic than the rest), he’s this friendly middle-aged guy with a hospitable wife and kid. Just hanging out having gin and tonics next to the pool, the kind f guy you want as a neighbor. Until he gets angry. You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry. He’s the kind of crook that I’d love to read more about.

As far as the third? Well, we don’t get to know them too much — it’s basically Escobar’s group, but larger and with a head who’s not so cuddly.

You put Elvis in the middle of all that while trying to sort out one family’s problems — past and present? Well, it’ll take he and Joe at the top of their game. Hopefully Elvis can get his head cleared enough, but at least we don’t have to worry about Joe — I’m not sure that Joe has anything but the top of his game.

Elvis’ jokes are there, but they’re subdued. Elvis has found himself in the middle of some really nasty stuff — the adoption as well as the criminal activity he stumbled into — and it’s hard to joke his way through it, but he does as often as possible. Still, there is room for him to be something other than just the crime-fighter. As long as Lucy Chenier’s around, Elvis will make time.

When they first meet, Elvis asks her out — and is turned down, after all, they work together. He keeps after her, and while I’m not saying he wore her down, she eventually takes him to dinner at a local restaurant. What follows is possibly the funniest thing in the series so far as Elvis tries to 1. be charming, 2. not get drunk and 3. keep things cool with Lucy. But he does something right, probably later, because they have another dinner or two together, and well, a lot more.

Later, when things are going better, Elvis will spend time with Lucy and Ben at home enjoying a quiet evening hanging out and watching Star Trek: The Next Generation:

It was the one where you follow the android, Data, through a twenty-four-hour period in his life, most of which is spent attempting to comprehend the vagaries of the humans around him. The fun comes in watching the logical, emotionless Data try to make sense of the human condition, which is akin to trying to make sense of the senseless. He never quite gets it, but he always keeps trying, writing endless programs for his android brain, trying to make the calculus of human behavior add up. When you think about it, that is not so different from what I do.

Yeah, it’s a little heavy-handed, but I liked it.

Of course, Joe and Lucy met. And it’s fun to read.

“It was a pleasure, Joe. You’re an interesting man.”
Pike said, “Yes.”
Lucy gave me a kiss, then let herself out and went into her building. I twisted around in the seat and looked at Joe. “She says you’re interesting and you say yes?”
Pike got out of the back and into the front. “Did you want me to lie?”

We see something new happen to Pike here. But — see that one for yourself. It’s refreshing (like in Lullaby Town) to see Pike interact with the police without pushback or resentment (or something worse). There’s plenty of opportunity for Elvis’ warrior friend to do what he does best. There’s even some opportunities for Elvis and Joe to just hang out, work out together, and talk. They get to interact as friends a little, not just partners. We need to see more of this. At one point, we get what’s possibly Pike’s biggest speech since the one he gave Ellen Lang in Monkey and just as on point. He really helps Elvis keep his head when he disappoints Jodi. Lots of warm fuzzies are to be had there.

There’s some interesting things said here about honor (not in the way that Parker does, it’s under the dialogue and narration, almost never the subject of it), conscience, and duty. Really, there’s a straight line from Elvis assuring Ellen Lang that he’d help her, through tearing up her father’s check and hunting down Mimi Warren, through doing all he could to help Karen Lloyd, to Jennifer Sheridan to Jodi and her family. It’s the same impulse driving Elvis (and therefore Joe). This impulse, this drive is what unites Elvis and Joe to the hard-boiled PI legacy, but their application of it is what helps distinguish them from others. As I recall, there’s a change in the wings for how Elvis approaches things, making this the apex of Stage I of the Cole series, if not the whole.

—–

5 Stars

The Magician’s Land by Lev Grossman

By HCNewton

On September 4, 2014

In Fiction

The Magician’s Land

by Lev Grossman

Hardcover, 401 pages
Published August 5th 2014 by Viking Adult
Read: August 16 – 20, 2014

This is one of those books that I’ve been waiting for since about 30 minutes after I finished the previous book in the series — and at the same time, one I didn’t want to arrive, because that means I have to say good bye to Quentin, Brakebills, Fillory and the rest of the gang. The nods to Lewis’ The Last Battle were pretty obvious, but naturally, there was a lot more going on than that. Unlike Lewis, the book never really felt like the end of anything but a chapter in the lives of most of these characters, and that their lives went on beyond these pages (you know, those that survived). I really like that kind of finale — one which is definitely an end to the story, but one that the characters go on from, having adventures (however mundane those may be) that we don’t get to see.

It’s obvious straight away, that Quentin didn’t respond too well from the events of The Magician King all too well — but for the record, neither did Eliot. So at least that’s fair. We get Quentin’s story told to us in two timelines — first, in the present, and the other starts shortly after King. I’m sure there was a point to that, but it didn’t strike me as necessary (although I should add, now that I’ve typed this, I can actually start to appreciate why Grossman may have chosen this. Still, I’m sticking with not necessary). But it didn’t interfere with anything, either, so I’m not going to complain.

Upon his exile, Quentin ends up at Brakebills, looking for answers, looking for hope and ends up becoming an entry-level professor there. And he’s good at it, for the first time, really since his student days there, he seems content, he seems at home. You really start to think that he’s got a happy ending in a quiet life ahead of him. And you know that you’re wrong, if only because the book has a lot more pages in it — but also because you know Quentin. Still, it’s a nice oasis for both character and reader.

In the present, however, Quentin’s part of a magically powered team of thieves — by the time you get an explanation for how he ended up in this situation, with his new companion/disciple Plum, you almost don’t care. You’ve just accepted this reality, and really want to find out (as much as Plum and Quentin do) just what they’re after and how they can pull off their heist.

Part of their research requires a trip to Fillory’s Antarctica campus. Which I’d forgotten all about, much to my chagrin. Instead of traveling there as birds, they opt to travel as blue whales. A choice I just loved.

[Quentin]’d imagined that he’d get some kind of deluxe ocean-vision as part of his package of new whale-senses, but in fact he didn’t see much better than he had as a human. With his eyes on different sises of his head his binocular depth perception was shot, and having no neck, all he could do to change the view was roll his eyes around or steer his whole humongous body. Also, unnervingly, he didn’t seem to have any eyelids anymore. He couldn’t blink. The urge decreased over time, but it never completely went away.

The whole whale episode — all 3 pages and change of it — was so brilliant, that even if the rest of the book was a wreck, I’d be tempted to give it 5 stars. Your results may vary re: the whale sequence, but I can assume there’ll be something like that for you. There are lots of little moments like this in this book vying for a spot in your personal Top Ten Moments list — like, say, Eliot engaging in single-combat, or learning about the restorative power of bacon.

Meanwhile, back in Fillory, the world is ending. And, sadly, that’s not hyperbole. Enter The Last Battle parallels. This part of the book could’ve been doubled in length and I wouldn’t have blinked a bit. Eliot and Janet take off on a quest to see if it’s possible to stop the world ending — and if so, you know, to stop it.While they’re on this quest the thing that struck me most was how little we ever got to see of Fillory (and nearby lands and peoples), and how much more I wanted to see, so I really enjoyed that aspect of the story. There were some great moments for Janet in particular here. Eventually, as the world begins to end, a massive civil war erupts magical and non-magical creatures fighting against each other, alongside the humans. From Janet’s perspective we see much of this, including what happens when unicorns and centaurs enter the fray on opposing sides:

You only had to see a unicorn lay open the side of a centaur once, the ribcage flashing white when the ripped skin flopped down, to swear a mighty oath never to fuck with or even look at another unicorn again. I’m putting down the hearts and fluffy clouds and backing away slowly. Don’t want any trouble here. You can have all the rainbows.

Yet, as usual, as interesting, explosive or world-ending as the other story might be, if it didn’t involve Quentin, I just couldn’t care as much. The further into the story I got, I did get more invested in the non-Quentin story than I initially was — and it was epic enough, important enough that I should’ve been invested, but without him it wasn’t as compelling. Quentin was our entry point to this world (these worlds, rather), and he stayed the focal point. So even an actual pending apocalypse paled in comparison to Quentin as Brakebills professor. By the end of the book, this wasn’t as true as it was in the beginning, but it spent too much time being true for me to overlook it. Thankfully, shortly after that, all the storylines merge, the band gets back together (with some needed augmentation), and they finally get a solid answer about whether they can prevent the end of Fillory.

Ultimately, Quentin’s not the hero of the series, nor is Janet, or Eliot, or anyone else. It’s Grossman — his use of the characters, his use of — and exploitation of — fantasy tropes, his messing with fantasy tropes, his facility with language, metaphor, and humor is what makes this series stand out.

As with the other two books, Grossman’s word choice is this great, seamless mix of poetic, flowery, rich vocabulary (I occasionally had to look up words to make sure I was sussing out the context clues correctly) with non-ironic uses of things like “lulz” or “I heart you.” Somehow, he’s able to pull this off without the reader blinking — or even noticing it most of the time.

Grossman starts in right away puling the reader in with:

Quentin didn’t care. It was a bookstore, and he felt at home in bookstores, and he hadn’t had that feeling much lately. He was going to enjoy it. He pushed his way back through the racks of greeting cards and cat calendars, back to where the actual books were, his glasses steaming up and his coat dripping on the thin carpet. It didn’t matter where you were, if you were in a room full of books you were at least halfway home.

There’s not a reader in the world that doesn’t know that exact feeling, hasn’t had that experience. It’s sort of a magical moment before the plot begins. Then a few chapters later, he somehow supports and underlines this moment, while undercutting it with:

The lights were too bright, and there were too many TVs, but it was a bar, and that was another place, like bookstores, where Quentin felt at home. Drinks were a lot like books, really: it didn’t matter where you were, the contents of a vodka tonic were always more or less the same and you could count on them to take you away to somewhere better or at least make your present arrangements seem more manageable.

The tragic, inevitable, brilliant, and awe-inspiring climax was the way this saga had to end. It wasn’t the ending you wanted, but in retrospect, you totally you did want this ending. If that even makes sense. Grossman has given contemporary fantasy readers a real gift here in this series and I think it’ll be one that holds up pretty well to re-reading and the passing of years. I certainly look forward to testing that hypothesis. If you’ve read this far, and haven’t read The Magicians, go get started with that one, and I dare you not to plow through the rest.

—–

5 Stars

Bad Little Girls Die Horrible Deaths by Harry Connolly

By HCNewton

On September 3, 2014

In Authors, Fiction, Harry Connolly

Bad Little Girls Die Horrible Deaths and Other Tales of Dark Fantasy

by Harry Connolly

ebook, 153 pg.
Radar Ave Press, 2014
Read: July 29 – August 23, 2014

By and large, I am not a fan of short stories. The length is typically frustrating for me — even when they don’t remind me of the various anthologies I had to use in Lit classes throughout my High School and College years. Still, I try every now and then to read some. Finding a good short story is as rewarding — if not moreso — than finding a good novel. This is a collection of ten short stories and one novelette — six of the stories are reprints, the others have been published for the first time in these pages. The novelette belongs to Connolly’s criminally under-appreciated Twenty Palaces series, and would be worth the purchase price for fans of that series. If you’ve never read that, but are interested in in trying out a variety of new fantasy worlds (including one that has some books to go with it), this is a great investment.

There was one story in the batch that I didn’t like. But even as I read it, and wasn’t enjoying it, I realized there was nothing poorly written/constructed about the story. It just wasn’t my thing. I don’t care who told the story, or how they did it, Don’t Chew Your Food wasn’t going to work for me. It’s a pretty straight-forward horror kind of thing, and that just doesn’t do it for me.

That out of the way, let’s focus on the pluses. This was a nice little variety pack of stories — the styles were all over the place, one (Hounds and the Moonlight) read like something the Brothers Grimm would’ve appreciated, another (Cargo Johnny) felt like it should’ve been introduced by Rod Serling, and another (Beyond The Game) demonstrated that Connolly can do funny — which is nice to see (also nice to have a little palate cleanser after all the mayhem and destruction).

The One Thing You Can Never Trust is a great introductory story — in just a few pages we have a political system (or two) unfolded for us, society’s way of (not) dealing with a racial divide and a new magic system. All while telling a tidy little crime story. Bad Little Girls Die Horrible Deaths is similarly a great short burst of world building with a fresh magic system — and some wonderful monsters, both human and not. Great opening paragraphs, grab you and make sure you’re along for the ride.

The main reason people are going to be picking up this collection is for the Twenty Palaces story: The Home Made Mask. And they are right to do so. I cannot get enough of this series (sadly, I’m a member of a very exclusive club). The fact that Ray and Annalise aren’t in the story much doesn’t affect that — this is the strange, creepy, capricious kind of magic at work that makes this series so compelling. Tempted to buy some Power-ball tickets just so I can commission some more of these.

I think my favorite story was Lord of Reavers, which is the closest thing to “traditional” fantasy. This tale of an almost super-human swordsman joining up with a band of raiders was great. I felt that I should’ve seen the conclusion coming sooner than I did, but it was so much fun I’m glad I didn’t. I’d read a novel or more starring this character — easy.

Most short story collections are uneven at best, full of ups and downs. Bad Little Girls . . . is an exception — 1 down, and 10 ups. Can’t ask for more than that. You’d do well to give it a try.

—–

4 Stars