Tag: Fantasy Page 51 of 54

Nook, 384 pg.
Ace, 2015
Read: February 4 – 9, 2015He started off strong three novels back, but Myke Cole is one of those authors who gets discernibly better with each book (I assume that will stop at some point — not that I’m in a rush for it), and this one seems like a major step beyond Breach Zone. So when I say this is a well-written book, I mean really well-written. But man, I really didn’t enjoy this book. It’s not his fault, well, let me rephrase it: it’s not Cole’s abilities or voice this time. I don’t know what it is. I guess I just don’t like the story or the characters all that much, as skillfully as they’re delivered to us?

Early on in the Great Reawakening, years before (possibly many) the Supernatural Operations Corps is in full swing, the U. S. Government has begun to use magic resources for its own ends (and, presumably, other nations are doing the same). One of these resources is a magician who can take the recently killed and unite their body and mind (slash soul?) with the mind (slash soul? again) of a long-dead warrior to create a Firestorm-like entity to use as the ultimate special-forces operator. Because somehow, this union gives them super-strength and abilities, while not feeling any pain or bleeding. As they’re technically dead, they can use them for anything, and if things don’t go right on the mission — oh well, what’s one more corpse? It’s a little more complicated than that, but that’ll do for now.

So, we have Jim Schweitzer, loving husband, doting father, and SEAL. His professional artist wife, Sarah, doesn’t fit in with the other Navy wives, and is really tired of not knowing where he is, when he’ll be called upon for a mission, and so on — puts her foot down. Family or Team. Just as he’s about to choose, a hit squad of people who shouldn’t know who he was, somehow find out and invade their home, wounding Sarah and their son and killing Jim. Giving the magician a fresh subject. Jim turns out to be one of the best (if not the best) of this reanimated soldier project, partially because he holds on to his humanity and memories better than most.

Sarah and Jim’s team member Steven, grieve his death (unaware that he’s not totally dead) and support each other in this time — while trying to figure out just what happened to his body, which is mysteriously not available for burial.

There’s one character we spend far too much time with given what happens to him/her by the end of the novel. One character who might as well be twirling a mustache in a couple of scenes. Mostly, everyone is this mix of motives, morality and action which are probably intended to depict the gray-ish nature of us all, but frequently come across as the products of an indecisive narrator. Jim battling his new soul-mate for control is just the most obvious example of the good vs. bad in all of us.

Cole explores similar themes to his past work — how honorable people/soldiers can function in inherently less-than-honorable conditions and systems. Who, ultimately, do soldiers fight — and why they do so. Cole’s said that this is to be a not at all subtle metaphor for PTSD, and I can see that — I’m just not sure it’s a helpful one (yet).

While I said Cole’s at the top of his writerly game, this isn’t a perfect book. At least once, he repeated a metaphor within a couple of pages (I don’t normally get that picky, but that one really took me out of the moment). And his sex scenes? Not good. They’re not Tom Wolfe bad, don’t get me wrong. But they read like . . . exactly like a sex scene written by a guy who’s better suited for describing Special Operations forces eliminating high-value enemy targets.

My major beef with this book is the magic. We’re four novels into this world by now, and the previous three have established some pretty clear rules for magic — at least the types of magic usually displayed in the U.S. But it’s clear that there might be variations throughout the world. So, it’s believable that we’d find another type of magic here. Also, this takes place quite a while before the Shadow Ops series, so changes may have occurred between now and then — if magic can appear and reappear, it can evolve, right? But it still feels too different (realizing I might have misunderstood this book, or the three others) — particularly the different (deeper?) magic that comes into prominence in the final chapters. I’m not saying there’s not a decent explanation for this, there very well may be — but given what we know about the universe this just doesn’t work. Which shouldn’t take away from the really strong and effective way that Cole used this bending/breaking of his own rules, because the last couple of chapters were great.

See what I mean? I can’t decide what I think about Gemini Cell — and I’ve been thinking about this for a couple of weeks, started writing this three days ago (you probably can’t tell that a lot of effort was put into this, but trust me). At this point, the only thing I’m sure of is that I’ll be back for the sequel, Javelin Rain, and hopefully that’ll wash all this away.

—–

Rating: I’m still not sure — somewhere between 2.5 – 4.5, I think.

Endsinger by Jay Kristoff

By HCNewton

On December 29, 2014

In Fiction, Steampunk, YA/MG/Children's Books

Endsinger

by Jay Kristoff

Hardcover, 432 pg.
Thomas Dunne Books, 2014
Read: Dec. 16 – 23, 2014

Let me show you what one little girl can do.

Of course, if you’ve read the first two novels in The Lotus War, you’ll know the list of what this one particular little girl can’t do is probably much shorter. The only question at this point is, can one little girl survive?

Kristoff has quite the wringer to put you through before you get the answer to that. For example, within the first thirty pages — thirty — Kristoff reveals something about a character I’d grown to have a certain affection for, and pitied after what happened to them in the previous book which makes me question everything I thought about them. And then he does something to that character I’m not sure I’ll forgive him for (will still read him, don’t get me wrong, I’ll just bear a grudge).

On the other hand, Endsinger is filled with so many fist-pumping moments, and fun sentences — like

Hiro laughed like a man who’d only read about it in books.

that you can keep pressing on — and actually enjoy the book. Another example of this:

Michi’s foot connected with the Inquisitor’s groin like a redlining goods train. It was the kind of kick that made one’s testicles throw up their hands and move to a monastery in the Hogosha mountains. It was the kind of kick that made orphans of a man’s grandchildren.

I mean, that’s something that Bruce Willis should be saying as he takes on Hans Gruber’s second-cousin or whatever.

I’m not going to describe much plot-wise here. It’d be too difficult to do it justice at this point — if you haven’t read the first two books anyway, there’s not a lot you’ll understand here without a lot of effort on my part. And if you’ve read the first two, you don’t need that to be an inducement to read the this one. It’d be easy in a book like Endsinger to just point every character at the final battle, throw in an obstacle or two along the way and let that be that. Heck, just coming up with an excuse to have Yoshi and Buruu travel around for 70-100 pages as the best buddy comedy pair to come along lately would’ve been a very satisfying way of spending time before the big battle. Instead, we get character development — a lot of it. We get mysteries explained. We get new characters, we learn new things about characters that we’ve known really well since book one (or thought we did, anyway). And they’re all thrown at a couple of really big battles, with some obstacles to overcome along the way.

The themes of the first two books continue to be explored here. The two that stuck out the most for me were: what makes a hero, what do they look like and what’s worth fighting for — honor, family, love, something else. Heroes aren’t what you think they are, don’t look like you think they should like — even (especially) to themselves. But everyone knows one when they see and/or hear one. As for what’s worth fighting for? That’s different for every one.

You don’t think people should know what happened here?”
“Oh, I think they should know, no doubt. I just don’t think they’ll care.”
“How could they not?”
“Because it will be different next time. It always is.”
“Different?” Akithito frowned at the cloudwalker captain.
“Different,” the Blackbird nodded. “Whatever they fight over. It’ll have a different name or a different shape — religion or territory or black or white. People will look back on us and say ‘we could never be that blind.’ People don’t learn from history. Not people who count, anyway.”

There’s a measure of cynicism, realism and idealism in Kristoff’s exploration of these (and other) themes. It’s tough, and probably ill-advised, to try to pin one of these viewpoints on Kristoff. But it seems to me that idealism’s voice is a bit louder than the rest.

Kristoff is great at keeping you on your toes. Things are bleak, but you start to think that hope is on the horizon, that one cavalry or another is coming — and coming soon. And then the hope is dashed. Or you start to think that all hope is gone and things are going to fall to ruin, and this is going to turn into a YA historical dystopian series, but then a new source of hope, a new rabbit gets pulled from a hat. He blindsides you time after time, from every direction.

Kristoff is great at his pacing, there are many moments he lets breathe, lets the readers and the characters observe everything going on, taking in all the sensory information and the thoughts of everyone. But he’s also capable of throwing in a sudden scene to grab the reader. The quick scenes bouncing around between the various characters in the heat of battle really work well to keep the tension high (though that can be a bit confusing unless you force yourself to slow down and read carefully — which is the last thing you want to do at that moment).

After awhile — about three-quarters through the book, after all the death, destruction, and (seemingly) climactic confrontations and battles getting you to that point, you simply can’t believe Kristoff can keep it going. How can the book last so many more pages? Is he going to give us a Peter Jackson’s Return of the King-style multi-epilogue? Probably not, it really seem to be Kristoff’s style. And then Kristoff shows you how he’s going to fill the rest of the book, and you pity all his characters, even those you’ve grown to despise, because that’s just not right.

In the end, Endsinger is a very satisfying conclusion to one of my favorite series in recent years. It’d have been easy for him to go for a “Everybody lives, Rose” kind of thing, where Hiro and the Lotus Guild are destroyed, Yukiko and Buruu are universally hailed as heroes, the Kage take over, and happily ever after. But he doesn’t give us that. Instead, we get the kind of conclusion promised in the first two books: it was emotionally satisfying (and induced a wide range of emotions, and may have involved a Kleenex or two on my part), it gave characters real conclusions to their arcs (not all happy endings), it tied up what needed to be tied up and it pointed towards the future. I’m going to miss this world and most of these characters. But I’m glad Kristoff didn’t try to milk this longer — it’s great as it is.

—–

5 Stars

Pickles and Ponies: A Fairy-Tale by Laura May

By HCNewton

On November 14, 2014

In Fiction

Pickles and Ponies: A Fairy-Tale

by Laura May

Kindle Edition, 263 pg.
Kindle Direct Publishing, 2014
Read: November 1 – 3, 2014

Everybody knows that good princesses are always pretty, just like wicked step-mothers are always ugly and covered in warts: and Melodia was no exception to this rule. By this time she was nearly nineteen, and she was tall and healthy, with rather a wistful look to her. You probably want to know her hair colour as well, because you’ve heard how that impacts upon personality. Scientists all over Raduga (with the word ‘scientist’ being used somewhat loosely) have conducted several studies into the effects of hair colour. They’ve found that while it seems to matter very little for the princes of the realm, for princesses it’s quite the opposite. Blonde hair indicates beauty and fragility, while brunettes are supposedly street-smart and intelligent. Of course, these studies were all funded by the Prince of Hairdressers, who was allegedly running a hair dye cartel…

If Douglas Adams were to write a fairy-tale style story for a YA audience, it’d sound a lot like this. Which is at once the strength and the weakness of the book. Once you start with this voice, you’re stuck with it — it’s a commitment you have to follow through with. May does a fine job of that. But, unlike Adams, she sometimes lets her voice, her storytelling style, get in the way of the story.

But, while occasionally distracting and annoying, it’s not fatal. And if you read this in smaller chunks — I read it in two sittings — you might not even notice (at least not as much as I did).

This is a cute YA take on fairy tales, a tale of magic, friendship, and a search for true love in a land where everyone is a prince or a princess (if they’re not a King or a Queen). There’s really not much else to say. She’s not giving us fractured Snow White or Cinderella, etc. May’s working from a blank canvas — what’s happening in the castle to the right of Prince Charming’s.

Again, like Adams, I’m not entirely convinced that May’s world is really that coherent — but it doesn’t matter, the world she’s put this in is just a place for her to tell jokes and have silly things happen. Like this:

By the time nine months on the island had passed, Melodia was bored out of her wits and sorely lacking in company. She tried talking to rocks, but they were stoney in their silence. She tried talking to the moss, but it just wasn’t a fun guy. The trees asked her to leaf them alone, and eventually the princess was reduced to talking to her own reflection in the lake.

I laughed, I chuckled, I groaned, I was charmed — and I was entertained. What more could you want?

—–

The author was kind enough to provide me a copy of this book, providing me relief from the murder and mayhem I’ve found myself reading this year.

—–

3 Stars

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 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

He Drank, and Saw the Spider by Alex Bledsoe

By HCNewton

On August 7, 2014

In Alex Bledsoe, Authors, Eddie LaCrosse, Fantasy, Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller

He Drank, and Saw the Spider

by Alex Bledsoe

Hardcover, 320 pg.
Tor Books, 2014
Read: August 6, 2014

After a couple of adventures which aren’t quite typical in their nature, Eddie La Crosse gets back to basics with a fairly straightforward case. Well, that’s not exactly true — it ‘s just that the last two were more outlandish, more grand-adventure-y, less LaCrosse-as-sword-jokey. This is Eddie doing what he does best. Yes, there’s magic, and monsters, and all the other trappings that keep this from being something that Sue Grafton or Dennis Lehane would’ve written.

Sixteen years ago, Eddie promised a dying man on the run that he’d take care of the baby that the other man was running to protect. He found a seemingly-trustworthy family willing to take the infant in, and went on his merry way, and actually forgot all about the incidents surrounding that. Until years later, when Eddie and his girlfriend, Liz, are on vacation in that area, when suddenly it all comes back to him and he decides to try and track down the (now) young woman and see how she’s doing.

Naturally, things start to go poorly about there. He does find her — pretty easily, too — it is a small community, with an economy largely-based on sheep-herding and farming, so it’s not really a bustling metropolis where no one knows anyone else. But there’s a whole lot of interesting things happening around the young woman — royalty in disguise, a meddling sorceress, an untrustworthy mercenary-type, an over-protective mother, a dose of sibling rivalry, and some sort of articulate and super-strong inhuman creature with a healthy interest in the girl.

Even though he was just supposed to check on her and not interfere with her life — he had no intention of even introducing himself to her. Eddie can’t help himself, and before you know it, he’s neck-deep in intrigue, and danger.

On the whole, this is a fun, brisk novel — a lot of humor, some good action, nice banter and interaction between the characters (especially Eddie and Liz). A good change of pace over Dark Jenny and Wake of the Bloody Angel, which tended to be more on the serious, emotionally-charged side. Yet, even as the answers to the questions surrounding the girl’s mysterious origins become obvious, and some of the characters get to the point where they seemed a irredeemable, Bledsoe (as he can every so well) keeps you completely drawn in and even tugs the heart strings a bit as the truth is revealed to the characters. Just really, really well done.

There’s a lot of nice little touches along the way. For example, towards the end of the book, Eddie and those he’s traveling with encounter a preteen who joins their little band for a while. She’s pretty new to swearing and tries to get in as much practice as she can while with them. At first, I thought she was an odd (but entertaining) and pointless distraction. It didn’t take too long to see she was a perfect tension-breaker, just what that part of the novel needed to keep from being too tense and so much more serious than what had come before.

Eddie’s narration has never been better — humor-tinged and hard-boiled, a medieval Philip Marlowe or Elvis Cole. I liked all of these characters, and really wanted to spend more time with each of them — I don’t know how Bledsoe could’ve pulled that off without getting the whole thing to slow and ponderous (which would’ve sucked the fun out of 60-70% of these characters). This is really such a well-done and fully realized series. I can’t wait to see what happens next.

—–

4 Stars

Shield and Crocus by Michael R. Underwood

By HCNewton

On July 16, 2014

In Authors, Fiction, Michael R. Underwood, P-U, Science Fiction

Shield and Crocus

by Michael R. Underwood

Paperback, 391 pg.
47 North, 2014
Read: June 26 – July 02, 2014

The level of detail in this world is astounding, it reads like it could be the 4th installment or so in a long-running series — the worldbuilding is just fantastic. I don’t know for a fact that Underwood has the history of Audec-Hal, of these races all mapped out for centuries before, and these characters lives detailed going back to birth — but it reads that way. He seems to know them all that well — but best of all, he doesn’t share all the homework he’s done with you, but you can tell he’s done it. The care, the detail, the intricacy, the strangeness of all of this — I mean strange in a good way, that somehow makes total sense in context — is so impressive. I don’t think I can adequately express my appreciation of the imagination and craft here.

We come into this city which is a shadow of itself — no longer in the heyday of its republic, it’s now a city controlled by competing tyrants. Where the citizens live in a sort of fearful servitude, a new generation being raised to know only this reality, and their elders in danger of forgetting what came before. Now where most writers would put a scrappy insurgency here, made up of soldiers, former government officials, and young ideologues, Underwood zigs instead of zags. Instead? We get the Justice League — or maybe the Justice Society (last time I checked, JSA was more welcoming of elderly heroes) — a band of costumed vigilantes doing what they can to destabilize the tyrants and protect the citizenry.

Right there, that’s enough. I’m in. I’m buying the T-shirts, pre-ordering any sequels, seeking out fanart (feel free to direct me to any shirts or art, btw).

The team’s leader, the Fist Sentinel is a Batman/Blue Beetle (Ted Kord)-esque figure. Getting by on his wits, fists and gadgets (tho’ some of his are magic, something that Batman and Beetle couldn’t say). He’s advanced in years, and doesn’t have much fight left in him, but he’s too stubborn/committed to quit. Then there’s the Shield — a sort-of guardian of the city, a mystic mantle that passes to new bearers after the death of the previous — a literal shield, which gives the bearer increased strength, etc. is the mark of the mantle. The current Shield is the Sentinel’s adopted son — think Captain America dosed by magic instead of revolutionary science. There’s a speedster, a woman with super-strength, someone who can control rocks with her mind, someone with mental powers — and a loosely organized group of mundane types who act as spies.

I’m getting into recapping too much here — this should be enough to whet your appetite. And there’s so much more to say in the setup, the details, the people.

Wonderfully told, well-plotted, well-paced. It’s everything I hoped and expected from Underwood.

But.

I didn’t care about these people. I was curious how things would turn out, I was pulling for The First Sentinel and the Shield. But honestly? I didn’t care about them. I know Underwood is capable of making me care about characters — seemingly effortlessly. But something here was off. I’m able to rave about this as a display of care, skill, and imagination — but there’s a distance between the reader and the characters and I just don’t think he bridged it.

A couple of items other things worthy of note: Both before and immediately upon release, I heard a lot of talk about the map in this book — which seemed a bit odd, but then I saw the map. It is so cool. Possibly the greatest map in the history of fantasy fiction — it’s like nothing you’ve seen before. Underwood states, “It all started with a doodle on the back of a grocery list. Now, rendered by a professional, it is amazing. :)” He’s right. The cover art’s pretty great, too.

Basically, this is a book I admire more than I enjoyed. What Underwood constructed here was fantastic, I just couldn’t connect with it emotionally the way I wanted to (the way I can with most of the people in his Ree Reyes series). His care for the world, for his characters is more than evident. He just didn’t do enough to get me to share that. Your results may vary, you might think I’m out to lunch here. That could be — I still really recommend this novel, just not as strongly as I’d expected to.

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4 Stars

The Hero’s Guide to Storming the Castle by Christopher Healy

By HCNewton

On June 25, 2014

In Fiction, YA/MG/Children's Books

The Hero’s Guide to Storming the Castle

by Christopher Healy

Hardcover, 477 pg.
Walden Pond Press, 2013
Read: Jun 17 – 20, 2014

This is not as good as The Hero’s Guide to Saving Your Kingdom, let me get that out of the way. But it’s hard to stay fresh with this time of humor. Still, it wasn’t stale, it was still a fun — sometimes very fun — adventure and a good story for the young — or those that can act young while reading a good book.

After their last adventure, the heroes find out that even in Fairy Tale Kingdoms, you only get 15 minutes of fame. No longer hailed as greats, their loser status has been restored and their lives are pretty much what they were before they banded together. So they all jump at the chance for further excitement, even if it comes in less-than-favorable ways. This time, the band is off to steal

We get all the characters from the first book back (at least the ones that anyone would notice), plus a few new faces — most of which I want to see again. In particuar, the character of Smimf the messenger was a great addition to the cast — he’s the proper mix of ridiculous and impossible. I could’ve used a little more of him — but not too much, I think he’s one of those characters that would grow old pretty quick.

I really enjoy Healy’s way of looking at the world and describing things, I know I posted some quotations last time, so I’ll limit myself to just one taste from this book where he explains the origin of the very nasty Warlord of Dar:

Some peole say Rundark was born out of a mad alchemist’s attempt to distill the essence of pure evil. Others claim he emerged fully grown form an erupting volcano. Although it’s also possible that he was the son of a used-cart salesman from Nebbish Village — they didn’t keep very good records in Dar.

I don’t care what age level you’re writing for, give me paragraphs like that, and I’ll read.

The last thing anyone should think about while reading this is Game of Thrones, but I couldn’t help myself. Someone needs to make a movie of this series, and they cast have to those of Maisie Williams and Rory McCann as Lila and Ruffian (quickly, before Williams grows up even more). If you watch the HBO series, I don’t know how you can read this without seeing the two of them with your mind’s eye as you read this.

I did chuckle at the tip of the cap The Princess Bride — so few in the target audience are going to get it, but for us Moms and Dads out there, it was a nice touch.

Last, but not least: Kudos to illustrator Todd Harris — his drawings are full of life and mirth. They’re the perfect accompaniment for the writing.

A lot of fun, almost as fun as the first book in the series, and well worth your time. I note there’s a third book in this series, and I really look forward to it.

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3 Stars

Wake of the Bloody Angel by Alex Bledsoe

By HCNewton

On May 30, 2014

In Alex Bledsoe, Authors, Eddie LaCrosse, Fantasy, Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller

Wake of the Bloody Angel

by Alex Bledsoe

Paperback, 350 pages
Tor Books, 2012
Read: May 28, 2014

I looked up at the stars. Finding one pirate after twenty years was a lot like picking one star out of this sky. Just when you thought you had it, a cloud slid by and you had to start all over when it passed.

Yet that’s just what Eddie LaCrosse sets out to do — find the unfindable, track the untrackable. For those of you who don’t know — Eddie lives in a fairly standard fantasy realm, and makes his living as a “sword jockey” — what we’d call a P.I. in our world. These books are first person narratives and read a lot like good detective novels — but with swords, horses and the occasional dragon or whatnot.

Eddie doesn’t go alone on his search for a pirate — he brings along his old friend/colleague, Jane Argo. Jane’s a former pirate turned pirate hunter turned sword jockey and is as tough as that résumé suggests. Having her come along on this adventure as the Hawk/Joe Pike figure was a great addition to a series that I didn’t think required it. But now, I want more of her — back in Eddie LaCrosse #6, or in Jane Argo #1. I could be pleased either way, as long as it’s soon.

There’s adventure, piracy, sword-play, banter, friendship, and a bit of betrayal. Enough to keep you engaged, if not turning pages as quickly as you can. Every now and then, in the middle of this fun read, Bledsoe reminds you he can do more than tell a fun action story, and drop a sentence, or phrase that shows he’s just a good writer, period. One such line that stood out to me, and I’ve tried to find excuses to use in the last couple days is:

Hawk’s been called many things over the years, but you know what captures him best, in my opinion? That he’s simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up.

You get a real clear idea about this Hawk guy, the image is pretty creepy in and of itself, and yet, it looks and sounds breezy unless you think about it. I like Eddie and the rest of his world plenty — but it’s that kind of thing that keeps me coming back to Bledsoe.

Part of me is glad I read Lynch’s Red Seas Under Red Skies before this, if I hadn’t, I’d have spent too much time comparing the pirate-y bits between the two while reading — and I think Lynch would’ve come up short. Bledsoe did a great job of nailing the life of a ship (says the guy who gets too seasick to even contemplate a day-long voyage) — both the tedium of day-to-day and the excitement of the boarding.

The last thing I can think to note, is that this book briefly features the creepiest little girl I can remember since Let the Right One In. I really can’t talk about her without ruining too much, but let me just say that absolutely loved the way that Bledsoe used her.

I couldn’t have seen the ending coming, nor the details it revealed. But it worked, it absolutely worked both as an interesting plot development, and as strong character moments. So well done. Shame on me for putting this off for so long — not a mistake I’ll make again.^*

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^* and I mean that — book 5, He Drank, and Saw the Spider came out this year, and is on my hold list at the library.

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4 1/2 Stars