Beth Tabler
There is a luscious, lurid quality to The Bayou by Arden Powell. It is as if the reader is peeping into the characters' private moments, mainly those of the photographer protagonist, Eugene. Powell's descriptions are dark and sweltering. I felt a little dirty and careworn after reading some passages, as if the words on the page transferred themselves to my skin. It is quite a talent to show readers this version of the 1950s small town of Louisiana.
My only issue with this gothic story is that sometimes the language is incredible; you feel like you are there staring down gators or sweat is running down the middle of your back. But sometimes, it seems like it switches to very “tell” heavy descriptions. These are pretty jolting and in sharp contrast to other heavy “show” descriptions in the story. Because of the contrast, it feels uneven.
However, sticklers aside, this is beautifully written and would be a perfect Halloween read to get you in the spirit. Check it out
On the surface, Jason Pargin's Zoey is Too Drunk for This Dystopia could be written off as another semi-futuristic funny dystopia. It certainly seems as if his book doesn't take itself too seriously. However, what is unique about Jason Pargin's writing, I include the entire “Zoey Ashe” and “John Dies at the End” series, is that Pargin is a brilliant satirist. You should take his work seriously because his slicing, biting wit and take on today's politics and popular culture are interesting and often painfully accurate. He is in good company with Hunter S. Thompson, Catch 22, and “Transmetroplitan.” I could see him and Spider Jerusalem having a lot to say to each other right before Spider loses his shit and pulls out his Spider Jerusalem bowel disruptor on the annoying people in the restaurant.
As a side note - I would love to know if that gun got a nod in this novel in the form of an umbrella.
“That guy is a turd in my teeth.”
― Jason Pargin, Zoey Is Too Drunk for This Dystopia
Zoey is to Drunk for this Dystopia, is the third in the Zoey series following Zoey Punches the Future in the Dick. If you are unfamiliar with Pargin's work, the basic premise of the “Zoey Ashe” series is that Zoey is a reluctant and farcical heiress to a fortune built on dirty money. Her absent father, who recently passed, was a kingpin in Tabula Ra$a, and his fortune was left to a very ordinary Zoey, much to her surprise. All of a sudden, people are trying to kill her. She has a team that works to protect her, and her choices of what to do with her father's wealth have a massive impact on the people of Tabula Ra$a.
In this book, Tabula Ra$a is hosting its huge annual music festival in the desert, with history's most ridiculous mayoral election in the background. It is a battle of perceptions between the candidates. “As tensions ratchet tighter, Zoey realizes that this is a battle of narratives: Every culture needs a collective story to believe in, so it's just a matter of coming up with one and then carefully sculpting reality to make it fit. How hard can that be? They have the whole weekend.”
“Where you find demand, you find people willing to fill that demand.”
― Jason Pargin, Zoey Is Too Drunk for This Dystopia
Pargin touches on issues that impact everyday life—fronted by the absurd. For instance, Tabula Ra$a is a city in the middle of the Utah desert. The irony here is that Utah is one of the most conservative states, and Tabula Ra$a... isn't. Zoey's world is the excesses of anything goes, but she is shackled by what she can do by celebrity. Everything said and done is recorded and broadcast on various social networks. Everyone has an angle and an ache to get a finger in the Tabula Ra$a pie. The narrative of what is true and what is a lie is constantly changing and shaped by the viewers' perception—this becomes stochastic terrorism. Perceptions are wielded like a cudgel. Politics aside, stochastic terrorism is a very effective and prevalent threat used widely by both the media in general and media personalities in the real world, and it is matched to the absurd degree in Zoey's world.
The writing is thoroughly engaging. Party in the desert that sounds a lot like burning man to the nth degree, riots, stunts, drugs, sex, danger, action, buildings blowing up, angels set afire...there is a lot to digest here.
This book has some harrowing scenes, one with a fake sinking ship, one with an artificial meat product, and one with a moving drink machine.
It is strange even to put these words together, harrowing and synthetic meat products, but it is true.
Even with this being the third book in the series, it is still one of my best reads of the year. I enjoy the characters. Zoey is entertaining and a lot more complicated than you would initially think. As the series progresses, we learn more about Zoey's team, who they are, and where they come from.
I can't say more about the plot because I don't want to give it away, and even if I could, it is so unbelievable that it is hard to explain. Just trust me. Please don't miss this series! His novels are truly worth the read.
An Inheritance of Magic by Benedict Jacka was a wonderful surprise, as his “Alex Verus” series is a tough act to follow. But An Inheritance of Magic has the base to be a fascinating world with a magic system that can expand as the books continue to be released.
On top of the struggle and toil of the average working-class person lay a glittering, secretive world of magic and magical families. Empires rise and fall at the behest of heads of family. It is cutthroat, and unforgiving, and if you do not have the right blood or relations, you will be swept under the rug like errant dust. Our protagonist, Stephen Oakwood, is the embodiment of dust to these people.
Stephen Oakwood, 22, works and lives paycheck to paycheck in London. It wasn't always like this. A few years ago, Stephen's Father had to disappear in a hurry with the promise of returning, but young Stephen struggled to keep a roof over his head and food in his mouth. At this point in the story, I appreciated and enjoyed how Jacka addressed the economic divide between classes, seen not just in food eaten and clothes worn but in the ability to have spare time. If you are constantly hustling, with one accident, doctor's appointment, or unexpected repair away from debt and financial ruin, you do not have time to lift yourself from your current situation. The time you do have is when you attempt to create a buffer. “He has talent and potential, but turning that potential into magical power takes money, opportunity, and training. All Stephen has is a minimum-wage job and a cat.” It is unnerving and wholly accurate. And as someone who has had to use government assistance to keep themselves fed at one point, I get it. I not only get it, but while reading this section of the story, I felt low thrumming anxiety wash over me like a cicada buzzing in my ear. It is an exceptionally clever piece of writing.
Right away, Stephen has one strike against him in this upper-crust world of magic: he is poor. The second thing he has is that he is formally untrained. Stephen is, for lack of a better word, “plucky.” He has much pluck. While his friends are dating, drinking beer, and doing what most men his age do, Stephen works harder and longer than anyone. This world of magic is closed to him; his father is gone, and there is very little info on the internet. If he learns anything about this incredible spark of “something” called Drucraft, it will be by the grit of his mind and the blood of his hands.
Suffice it to say that Stephen is driven by both practicalities, being able to support himself enough to have time to study and passion. This story is the epitome of the underdog trope. You want him to succeed if for no other reason than Hobbes, Stephen's cat who acts as Stephen's constant companion. But the world seems to be against Stephen with insurmountable odds from mighty people. Watching everyone who has wronged Stephen fall to their ruin as the books continue will be fun.
Weakness-wise, the first story of an extensive series like this with a large world has a lot to cover. It needs to drop the information about Stephen's living environment, the rules of magic, who is the story's antagonist, and lead us to the next book. Because of this, some parts felt wordy, with a lot of information dumped on the reader at once. I understand the necessity of this and tend to look past that entirely when reading. But it may be a factor for some readers that could take them out of the story.
When I heard that there was a new urban fantasy series from Jacka, I was elated. I adored his previous one and was a long-time fan, and his second foray into urban fantasy is no “sophomore slump,” quite the contrary I think. Inheritance of Magic takes some of the best aspects of the urban fantasy genre and mixes them with Jacka's well-honed craft, and we are left with excitement now and hopefully for years to come.
Twisty, twisty, twisty, The Quiet Room by Terry Miles takes you on another strange path down the Rabbit hole.
The “Rabbits” series by podcaster and storyteller Terry Miles is based on the world created by his podcast of the same name with the titular catchphrase, “R U Playing.” So again, we are faced with the question, “What is Rabbits?” And frankly, there is no way for me to illuminate that, but I can tell you what I know.
The series idea of Rabbits is a swirling collection of chapters and stories hinting at an underground game called Rabbits. It's characters and us readers following clues and seeing patterns in multiple dimensions. In The Quiet Room, the second novel in the series, Rowan Chess is starting to see patterns; the idea of Rabbits is popping up around him. So many it is getting hard to ignore them. On the flip side, Emily Connors suddenly finds herself trapped in a dimensional stream where the game does not exist. But nothing feels right.
While the story had me in the first pages, this is a dark and complicated read; it is the type of story that would be difficult to wade through if you are not thoroughly familiar with the first book. Even then, because of the complexity, you may have had to reread the first book recently to familiarize yourself. The Quiet Room hops from area to area, dimension to dimension, and person to person. It is not a narrative that moves in a straight line, jagged line, or anything resembling a line, more like a yarn knot. That is one of the positives and detractors of a story like this. Some folks who read it, myself, included love puzzles and piecing together the story bits together. But compared to the first book, The Quiet Room has an even faster pacing. I got lost a few times, and that is saying something because I had to keep notes in the first book to keep it all straight. Some of it is too much, and I wish Miles had developed things further in a couple of areas to solidify characters so I had a general feel for them, but maybe this is him setting the series up for a grand crescendo. Honestly, anything with this story is possible.
If you like your stories with traditional storytelling, characters, plot arcs, or narrative structure, this book will not be for you. But if you want to walk on the wild side and try something different, possibly cult-worthy, I suggest giving this a go.
There are mixed feelings about the “Harry Potter” series in general. This once-loved world of flying owls, castles, and a destined boy could feel semi-tainted to some due to the creator's personal beliefs. I will not discuss that, as that could be an entire essay on whether readers should separate art from the artist. This recent controversy, paired with the direction of my enjoyment of fantasy and what I seek out for myself, has driven me away from the original Harry Potter story. I love grimdark and darkly complicated stories with gray characters and fraught circumstances. And sadly, at this space in my life. The original “Harry Potter” story no longer does “it for me.”
It is too sweet.
But I posit to you, “dear reader,” as the illustrious Eleni would say, what if it wasn't saccharine but filled with real and truly flawed human beings dropped into an impossible scenario?
What if the bad guys won? What if war were actually war, the winning side hindered by morals that had no place in war and a side that had no scruples against using the most heinous spells and magic? What would that look like?
“I have warned you. If something happens to you, I will personally raze the entire Order. That isn't a threat. That is a promise. Consider your survival as much a necessity to the survival of the Resistance as Potter's. If you die, I will kill every last one of them.”
It is an interesting thought experiment, and up until now, no fan fiction author has hit on the right tone and had the necessary skill to immerse you in a new version of Harry's world convincingly until now.
First, something I don't usually do is give you trigger warnings. This new story has violence, sexual assault, and torture. And certainly not if you are a minor or young person; save this story for when you are a little older and jaded. I believe that all of these elements served a purpose in service to the narrative. There is no fridging on my watch. But it is still hard to read.
Firstly, if you are unfamiliar with shipping, let me elucidate. Shipping is when you, the reader, want a story that veers away from the original, takes two other characters, and puts them in a love match.
Popular ones in the Harry Potter fandom can be anything from Harry and Hermione to Harry and Ron to Regulus Black at Grimgotts and a room full of frisky goblins. Have at it. That is one of the most excellent parts of fanfiction. It is done in love to the original story, and frankly, it is so outlandish that it is hilarious to read. The story Manacled is an 876-page masterpiece of the genre written by SenLinYu that has become the defining Dramione ship piece and currently is sitting at 34k views on Goodreads with a 4.67 rating. It is not just successful as a fanfiction piece; it is successful as a novel in general.
“If he's a monster, then I'm his creator. What did you think was the source of all his rage?”
The plot revolves around Hermione and Draco Malfoy a couple of years after the start of the second wizarding war. Some creative license has been taken here. Instead of the story being rolled up in a “happily ever after,” People are dying in the most horrific ways, and the resistance barely survives.
We start the story with Hermione in the dark, in pure sensory deprivation, where she has resided for 18 months. She has held on to her sanity by sheer will alone. We don't know when in the war this is; at this point, we know the harrowing experience Hermione has been through. Hermione is unceremoniously dragged from her cell by rough hands and put forth before the one and only Dolores Umbridge. Dolores has become the Dark Lord's prison warden. And Hermione was one of his most protected prisoners. She is the last living member of the Order of the Phoenix, but oddly enough, she has memories buried down in her mind that are protected and sealed away from even the most practiced and skilled legilimentalist. The memories are the only thing keeping her alive.
A doctor examines Hermione and figures out that the only way that the memories might be recovered in any safe, usable manner is a magical pregnancy. Due to the sheer amount of death that this generation of living witches and wizards has had, Voldemort has started a birthing program, a la Handmaid's Tale, that shuffles off living witches, manacles them, and gives them to trusted death eaters to impregnate. Along with the birthing program, Voldemort has decreed that people will be married and pairs off individuals in the hopes that more babies can be born.
“Be careful. Don't die.
Only because you asked.”
While this chunk of the story borrows heavily from ideas found in The Handmaid's Tale, it doesn't feel hackneyed. The author makes these ideas of power and manipulation and the subjugation of women work within this narrative framework. For intents and purposes, the witches are handmaids; instead, they replace God with subservience to the Dark Lord. To control the magic the witches can wield and objects they can touch, the witches are manacled with a bracelet that stops the magic from flowing out of their bodies. No eye contact, talking, escape, or free will.
Because of the delicate nature of Hermione's case and the pure paranoia of Voldemort, the father of the future babies that Hermione will have must be wholly and utterly loyal to Voldemort and be a strong legilimens. That man has become the High Reeve, Voldemort's enforcer and truly terrifying individual. And he is none other than Draco Malfoy—Harry Potter's bratty nemesis who has come to a very dark place in this story. At this point, dear reader, you might think, “Oh, ok, this is the part with the porn soundtrack. They look deeply into each other's eyes and fall madly in love.”
You could not be further from the truth.
Hermione is psychologically flayed; she is broken down piece by piece. While the idea of a ship is lovely, people are people and are messy. Nothing that happens to Hermione is pleasant, nor to Draco. The world is ever-changing shades of gray. But all of it is necessary to support a complicated story that might have some of the most complex writing I have ever read. When the bough breaks and memories start to break through, we are shifted back to the height of the war when everyone was alive. Ron has become promiscuous; Harry seems to have aged a decade and, on particularly bad days, fights in underground clubs for release, and Hermione, the heart of the original story, is the glue that is holding everything together. Hermione becomes a chameleon with her brilliant brain, does whatever she has to do, and is whoever she has to be to save those she loves, even if they no longer love or appreciate her back. She sacrifices bits of herself slowly to give the resistance inches against the dark lord.
“But as she tried to unravel him, he grew increasingly tragic and terrifyingly human.”
The teenage bad boy sent to save the damsel trope is old and does a disservice to both of the characters involved. In real life, neither a “bad boy” nor a damsel are one-dimensional. People just are more challenging to figure out. And while this story could have stayed at that superficial level, it did not. Throughout the 800+ pages, we learn how incredibly complicated good and evil can be. That evil is just a matter of perspective.
There are a couple of things to overlook when reading this. This is fanfiction; a few chapters are a smidge repetitive, and given a good once-over by an editor would have sliced those away, along with the occasional grammar mistake. But it is few and far between.
“Pragmatism has stolen away any luster of heroism from her.”
To sum up, Manacled is a complex war story based around a well-known ship. It is one of the most complex stories of its kind I have ever read, and it now puts the original Harry Potter in stark relief for me. One who reads this cannot walk away unscathed in one way or another. Still, as an experience, this rich story has added much-needed nuance to Harry Potter's best friend, Braniac Hermione, and Harry Potter's nemesis Draco Malfoy. They are all so much more than the sum of their parts.
Chuck Tingle's new novel, Camp Damascus, successfully delves into multiple layers of horror, creating a story that touches on many layers of the human experience. Religious trauma can be a powerful force in one's life. Those who have suffered religious trauma, which comes in many different forms and experiences, have to go through the process of being deprogrammed. They have their lives dismantled and made anew. It is painful and scary, often shaking the foundation on which one lays their identity.
This idea of shaken identity is one of the many reasons Chuck Tingle's new novel, Camp Damascus, is so powerful. Yes, superficially, there are some terrifying scenes. But the book is so much more. Quite a bit is under the surface of “Neverton, Montana: home to a God-fearing community with a heart of gold.” Demons and coughing up flies are scary, but what is horrific is the religious dogma associated with the camp and Rose's life. The idea that someone who believes is always and entirely right because of faith is dangerous. This story will be quite poignant for those who have suffered under religious fervor. However, the ideas represented in the story will appeal to anyone with a heart.
“Slowly disconnecting from your community—from your family—is difficult, and while it seems like unearthing their sinister motives and dark secrets might make the process easier, it will never entirely quell the pain. I've been avoiding this dark ache by keeping my mind busy while my body couldn't be, but it hasn't gone away. The sadness is still there, lurking in the corner like a pale demon in a red polo, just waiting to finally be acknowledged. That acknowledgment could arrive after several decades, or it could happen tonight, but the time will come. Eventually, I'll have to fully contend with this simple fact: the love I was promised is conditional.”
Camp Damascus is the story of Rose and her life as a member of an evangelical cult/megachurch in Neverton. This church runs a gay conversion camp that has a 100% rate. But why and how can a place have a 100% rate? Nothing is 100% when dealing with human feelings and emotions, especially something as important as identity and attraction.
Rose, we learn, is neuro-divergent and has never been interested in the opposite sex. As a side note, The neurodivergent thought processes of Rose are excellent. I love how Tingle has written her and how she processes information. As Rose discovers more about herself, she sees creatures lurking at the edges of her vision or in the background. These creatures inflict fear, and then Rose starts to cough up flies. Despite the supposed god-fearing atmosphere, something sinister is in Neverton, but what is it? That is where I must stop, as this story has mystery as one of its driving forces.
The pacing was a challenge for me personally, only in that I have a difficult time with slow burns. And this novel is a relatively slow burn, and rightfully so. Rose has a lot of inner struggles to go through, and this isn't a simple trope already known to readers. Paying attention to all the details was rewarding, essential, and pays off. As the story rolls on toward the end, it gets more exciting.
In Camp Damascus, The Tingler's message always comes through; Love is Real. Camp Damascus is engaging, intriguing, and a very “Chuck Tingle” novel where Chuck's message is always there. Love is real.
Pick up this book. Support Chuck, support love.
Jeremy Shipp writes quirky and often disturbing tales, and The Merry Dredgers is no different. Shipp flexes their writing muscles by creating two unsettling settings, an eerie amusement park and a cult while sliding a mystery inside. And while this is marketed under the banner of science fiction, fantasy, or even young adult, this is a very adult story brimming with suspense about pain and sisterhood and the lengths to which someone will go to find answers or at least an iota of peace.
The blurb talks about Seraphina Ramon and how she will stop at nothing to find out the truth about why her sister Eff is in a coma after a very suspicious “accident.” What happened to her sister, and why is she in a coma? Even if it means infiltrating the last place Seraphina knew Eff was alive: a once-abandoned amusement park now populated by a community of cultists. And again, in the Shipp style, characters are neither bad nor good but layered. The people and lifestyle the cultists lead are comforting, and Seraphina finds friendship and camaraderie among the members, which greatly complicates things for her from a moralistic viewpoint.
There is also a profound story between the sisters; even with Eff being in a coma, it is still pronounced and nuanced. You can disagree with your sister and often hate her and her choices, but the bond of sisterhood can run deep. While reading this story, I understood and empathized with many of Seraphina's actions.
One of the great strengths of the story, and one that almost becomes a character itself, is the setting. An abandoned amusement park full of rust and pealing paint where you might hear the echos of a child's laughter or a roller coaster flying by is the perfect setting for something disturbing. Something in this setting is slightly off, much like a cult. And Shipp expounds on that. It feels like Seraphina is walking into hell, but it is ok, no, really, because she is with new friends, and friends would not lead you astray.
If you are looking at reading some of Shipps's other works, I recommend Bedfellow, which is an absolute mind scramble of a book. Or, if you are looking for stories with a similar feel, hop over to Paul Tremblay's A Head Full of Ghosts, which also depicts a sisterly relationship but in a much different way.
It is dark, whimsical, melancholic, and poignant - The Merry Dredgers is some of Jeremy Shipps's best and most complicated work and should not be missed.
Veronica Roth's Arch Conspirtitor had all the makings of a great book. The premise is based on the Greek tragedy of Antigone, the girl who rises up alone. She will defy her uncle and ultimately dies young. There is also a war between siblings, death, and sadness. Antigone is enough of a story to base a new book on. But Roth took Antigone and added a new layer of depth to it. It takes place in a dystopia, in one of the last cities. Children are no longer born naturally but selected from existing cells and reproduced. This selection puts a limit on new humans and gene diversity. They do all this because of religion (waves hand). When you die, your gametes are harvested through a device inserted below your belly button. To not do so is the ultimate dishonor to someone.
The rest of the story could be more straightforward. It is too much for a tiny novella-length story. I had difficulty sifting through all the elements of Greek mythos and science fiction to make a cohesive story. I like Veronica Roth, Insurgent and Carve the Mark are exciting and well-thought-out storylines. Arch Conspirator is a good idea that aimed for too much and fell short. It has just too much going on for me to recommend it.
3/5
In How to Sell a Haunted House, Grady Hendrix has turned the banal and the ordinary into something existentially terrifying. This is Hendrix's modus operandi. Often, the most mundane things: an IKEA shopping store, book clubs, one's best friend, or the idea of a family home in his hands, turn twisted, greasy, full of spikes and tendrils, patiently waiting to dig its way into the mind of his helpless readers. Grady Hendrix writes the best horrors.
“wishing harder than she'd ever wished before that for just sixty seconds someone would hold her, but no one holds moms.”
One of the overarching features of Hendrix's stories is the flawed characters. People are imperfect, gray in emotions and deeds, sometimes heroic, and other times cowardly. Unless you seek a novel where the good is always good, and the evil is easy to spot, stories and characters are complex three-dimensional creations. As a reader, horror is more effective when I can empathize or am repulsed by characters past their inherent “goodness” or “badness.” Hendrix capitalizes on the grayness of characters to effectively tell his stories.
The premise of How to Sell a Haunted House is that Louise's parents have died. Louise, a mom, has had to leave her child with her ex to travel to Charleston to tie up familial loose ends. One of the loose ends is her childhood home, her father, an academic, and her mother, a woman obsessed with dolls and puppetry. They both loved and knew her best, and the raw pain and emotional deadness from losing a parent are shown well. It feels like Louise has been scooped out emotionally, but she still has to go on living, making decisions, and dealing with what is left of her family, her brother Mark. Mark has his own battles to fight. While Louise left, he stayed, and there is contempt there.
“But she didn't have a choice. She would have to handle whatever happened. There was no such thing as too much. There was just more and more, and her limits didn't matter. Life didn't care. She could only hang on.”
As it turns out, selling the house and dealing with their crumbled relationship will be much more complicated and terrifying than either thought.
There is something unnerving about dolls. It could be because they represent us and who we think we are or the uncanny valley effect, which is the reaction to how human an object looks while not being quite right. Often, it involves revulsion and unease. Some stories capitalize on this trait, Like Annabelle and Chucky. On the one hand, they are toys, harmless objects of play and joy; on the other hand, there is something not quite right about Annabelle. Hendrix took this idea and turned it up to 11. Puppetry is creepy, generally. But obsession and puppetry are so much worse. Think puppets in every room, hanging from the ceiling, their strings lightly brushing your face as you walk under them, their glass eyes staring at you but not seeing. Eyes, everywhere. Hendrix probably sat back in smug satisfaction at the horror practically dripping off the pages.
“This is where we grew up. It's not The Shining.” “It's Shining-adjacent,” Mark said in the gloom.”
Now take those puppets, eyes everywhere, and give them life. Stick them in a house and put two broken people in there with them. The puppets are unhappy with Louise and Mark's choices; they have access to tools, their teeth, knives, and a propensity for mischief. Voila, How to Sell a Haunted House.
It is shocking how scary How to Sell a Haunted House is. It isn't one thing, but the combination of writing, characters, dolls, and atmospheric worldbuilding that creates a sense of malice and revulsion on every page. And it only builds as the book nears the last third. Is this my favorite Hendrix book? It's hard to say; they are all different and well done, but this one is the most atmospheric.
“Louise tried to think of how to explain death to a puppet.”
Read this novel if you are looking for a frightening time, hate puppets, or want to immerse yourself in a Hendrix world. It is worth the scare and the time to read it. God, I hate puppets.
As a reader, sometimes I get bogged down in various genres. I am a fan of Science fiction, Fantasy, and every iteration that comes out of that side of the bookstore. But I realize that while I read widely, I don't read widely enough to get my feet firmly planted in fiction. So when presented with an opportunity to check out this beautiful book by Jamila Minnicks, I jumped at the chance.
The premise of Moonrise Over New Jessup is thus: “It's 1957, and after leaving the only home she has ever known, Alice Young steps off the bus into the all-Black town of New Jessup, Alabama, where residents have largely rejected integration as the means for Black social advancement. Instead, they seek to maintain, and fortify, the community they cherish on their “side of the woods.” In this place, Alice falls in love with Raymond Campbell, whose clandestine organizing activities challenge New Jessup's longstanding status quo and could lead to the young couple's expulsion—or worse—from the home they both hold dear. But as Raymond continues to push alternatives for enhancing New Jessup's political power, Alice must find a way to balance her undying support for his underground work with her desire to protect New Jessup from the rising pressure of upheaval from inside, and outside, their side of town.”
In the first few paragraphs, we meet Alice and learn of her predicament. Her mother has died, and a few weeks back, her father passed away, leaving Alice an orphan. Her beloved sister moved out a while ago, presumably to the big city, although Alice can't find her, and she knows she needs to leave as soon as possible before the landlord figures out a way to get her behind the toolshed. Alice is a protagonist that is bold enough to understand a situation and knows she needs to take action but tender enough that the move will sting. She has to leave everything she has ever known, hoping for something better.
We end up in the thriving town of New Jessup. Alice gets off the bus and looks for a non-white water fountain and doesn't find any. Or anything of its kind because New Jessup is an all-black community. There is a calm to New Jessup in the way that Minnicks describes New Jessup, a beautiful calm in stark contrast with where she came from.
The story is slow-paced, at times almost like molasses. But that adds something to the narrative, quiet, slow, and sitting on the porch drinking icey sweet tea. Moonrise Over New Jessup is a character-driven story, so while the pace is languishing, we are getting to know the characters for all their good and evil. This place is a haven against the racial tensions surrounding the town on all sides.
After reading it, it isn't easy to sum up how I feel about this book. The first word that comes to mind is stunning. The prose and lyrical nature of the writing are captivating. It takes you to 1957; you feel the heat on your skin and see it shimmering across the blacktop. The bus just drove away, and you smell the exhaust. But most of all, the writing conveys the uncertainty Alice Young feels in this new environment and how that changes over time. It conveys the social state of the world in 1957, and how that is rapidly evolving, it describes how the world viewed women, specifically women of color.
But most of all, it made me appreciate Minnicks' beautiful writing and gave me the desire to seek out all their work.
Seanan McGuire has rare ability to delve into deep subjects, in this case loss without drowning the reader in sorrow. This ability is what makes Wayward Children such a beautiful and compelling series. In this instance, the newest Wayward story, Lost in the Moment and Found, is a story about loss in all of its iterations.
Antoinette, or Antsy as she is refereed starts the story through here memory as a child of her father dying right in front of her, at Target of all places. The pain she feels at the loss of her beloved father colors her interactions through the rest of the story. And, while the pain of loss dulls with time and experience, the wound never really leaves you. Antsy is wounded, and dealing with trauma. Her mother, flawed as she is trying to make her way through the grief of the loss of her husband. And in that grief, she find love with a new man. Although Ansty doesn't trust the man, a child's intuition, she tries to be civil with him. But, there is a reason why loss is discussed in many forms and Antsy ends up physically lost hiding in the doorstop of a shop with big words above the door:
“Be Sure”
Antsy decides that she is, pushes through and finds out where lost things go. We start a journey into grief, healing, and loss. While Antsy is lost in so many ways, McGuire never for one moment allows the audience to become lost. We are at rapt attention page by page. If you haven't started this series, you aught to. This is one of the best series being written today, book after book. And I am sure that you will enjoy it as much as I did. if you decide to make the leap, and purchase the slim first book of the series, pause for a moment. Take a deep breath and be sure because you are about to go on an adventure.
C.L. Polk's lovely Even Though I Knew the End is a beautiful way to spend the afternoon. To describe, Even Though I Knew the End, you take one part supernatural thriller, one part hard-boiled same-spade detective story, and one part queer romance dash in a bit of the late 1930s-1940s in Chicago, and you have it.
“I never told her how she had saved me. I never told her how she became the dearest friend I'd ever had. I told her I loved her, but never enough. My Edith of the sparrows. My heart. My world.”
The main protagonist is an “exiled augur, Helen, who sold her soul to save her brother's life and is offered one last job before serving an eternity in hell.” Because of her choice, she lost everything. Now, she makes ends meet by working various investigative jobs that require her unique skill set. She has found true love in Edith, who softens Helen's rough edges. They fit together like a matched pair. It is charming and authentic, and I loved every moment of it.
The great thing about this story is that Polk has left it open for more books. This book and these stories are not enough for one helping; Polk needs to bring them out again and again.
They sing of a red-headed devil, one who fights with strength that borders on supernatural and agility as if a sword were born in her hand. But isn't this devil, this dervish, just a serving girl? So goes the tale of The Six Deaths of the Saint by Alix Harrow. This brilliant short story is part of a continuing series of bite-sized fantasy offerings from acclaimed authors Lev Grossman, Nghi vo, Tomi Champion-Adeyemi, and more. They are described thus, “Some truths are carefully concealed; others merely forgotten. In this spellbinding collection, seven acclaimed fantasy authors create characters who venture into the depths where others fear to tread. But when forbidden knowledge is the ultimate power, how far can they go before the darkness consumes them?”
Alix E. Harrow is easily one of the best short story fantasy authors writing today. If you are someone who looks at CVs, you would see Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy Award nominations and wins. As this young girl in Six Deaths of the Saint battles as if a sword had always been in her hand, Harrow writes as if she was born with pen and paper. That is why this series of stories, and by extension Harrows is such a decadent treat to read. She had me at The Saint of War, be still my shriveled dark fantasy-loving heart.
“I would rather love a coward than mourn a legend.”
The story's protagonist is a servant girl on the verge of death, spared by The Saint of War. “Always mindful of the debt she owes, the girl finds her worth as a weapon in the hand of the Prince. Her victories make him a king, then an emperor. The bards sing her name, and her enemies fear it. But the war never ends and the cost keeps rising—how many times will she repeat her own story?”
There is a unique difficulty in writing a short story; the author must get to things quickly and concisely. The characters must have agency, and be well-rounded in, usually, less than 30 pages. It is a tall order.
“I could have killed you,” you said, and he had answered obscurely, “You never do.”
However, instead of world-building, The Six Deaths of the Saint is a deep character story. Yes, there is gore and battle. Ones that are so vivid that you swear you can smell the copper penny stink of blood and iron, but all of the fighting and descriptions of gore support the characters in their struggles. What struggles, you ask?
I can't give that away. It would ruin the fun.
However, I commend Harrow on creating characters that are now on my favorite ride-or-die list in 30 pages. When you read this, you will know exactly what I am talking about. You should give this story a go, especially if you are a fan of Harrow's other work.
Thank you to Angela Mann for providing me with a copy in return for my review!
In the Shadow Garden by Liz Parker was the perfect novel to tuck into on an autumn night with a coffee in hand. It is a story that is not light and airy. Instead, it embraces some of the darker themes of literature with a perfect blend of storytelling, the supernatural, and the strength gardeners know of plants that reach through the rich dark soil toward the light.
“Stalks of basil to keep the evil eye at bay. A head of broccoli to heal the body. A bunch of cilantro to mend the soul. Three tomatoes for passion in the bedroom. A cucumber to keep that passion from burning a relationship to the ground. The finishing touch— one piece of fruit from the shadow garden to amplify it all.”
The story is about a power struggle in a small town between two prominent families whose roots go deep. The Haywood and Bonner families could not be more different. One is a high and mighty whiskey manufacturer, the other a family of witches, and the tension between them simmers for decades. Still, this story starts with the death of the Bonner Patriarch and the return of the Bonner prodigal son after 25 years. His return is met by a community that barely remembers him, so much so that it edges on the bizarre.
The Haywood side of town can take the darkest emotions from people and settle them into the ground, essentially feeding The Shadow Garden, their garden. They are three generations of witches who will meddle if asked to. But their magic starts to go haywire as well. What follows is a “who done it and why” that delves deep into the very root of things 25 years ago and what happened on that fateful summer in 1997.
I loved the juxtaposition of this high and mighty whiskey family and this Earthy family of witches. They couldn't be more different, and their hate could not be stronger. Their stories intertwine and involve magic, gardens, history, and love.
In the Shadow Garden was a whiskey-soaked story that was exciting as it is lyrically beautiful. There are second chances to be had, even for families like The Haywoods and the Bonners.
In BadAsstronauts, Grady Hendrix wrote a story about cousins, NASA, and a whole lot of rednecks. Ones he affectionately refers to as Redneck NASA, and there has never been a more apt moniker for this rag-tag group of people with the single goal of getting someone's ass to orbit.
The story starts with Walter, a drunk and retired astronaut who gave up on the dream of getting to the stars long ago. After his mission goes south, his cousin is stuck on the abandoned International Space Station, awaiting death. NASA is out of money; they want to sweep this PR debacle under the rug.
Walter is not having it.
Walter's little farm in Melville, South Carolina, might just have to become the beacon of hope blinking in the darkness for “misfits, drifters, rocket junkies, pyromaniacs, dreamers, science nerds, and Astro-hippies who believe that space shouldn't just be for billionaires.” Walter will break all the laws, state, federal, and decency, to get himself to orbit to grab his cousin. The ship is made out of tin cans, chicken wire, duct tape, and drug-induced fever dreams, and “like Braveheart yelling, “Hold..hold....hold,” Walter is going to pull this mess together or die trying.
With this contraption, the dying might just be guaranteed.
Grady Hendrix has a wonderful knack for lightness in his stories. Even when at their most gruesome, they don't stray too far and become heavy. He is excellent at the darkly funny and the absurd, which balances well with the scary or, in this case, absolutely batshit. Hendrix did that here in BadAsstronauts. The subject matter, redneck NASA, is nuts. The idea of a disparate group of characters coming together for what is usually an unobtainable goal has just enough plausibility to make it work. NASA, for most people, is something other people do. Towering figures like Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong, it is not for ordinary people like Jethro down at the trailer park who loves to blow up stuff.
So I salute Walter for trying to save his cousin, I salute the folks of redneck NASA for coming together, I salute the “can-do” attitude of ordinary folks, and I salute Grady Hendrix for writing another entertaining story.
It has been an exciting five years for our dimension traveling heroine, Zinnia Gray. We have moved past the traditional simple sleeping beauty type stories and into just about every variation on theme that can be imagined. Every country, every type of world and even some off world, Zinnia has stepped in and did her best to “help” the titular princess. She has burned fifty spindles. “Just when Zinnia's beginning to think she can't handle one more princess, she glances into a mirror and sees another face looking back at her: the shockingly gorgeous face of evil, asking for her help.”
Now, what fairy tale do we know of that has a gorgeous face of evil staring into a mirror?
It is none other than the worst of evil stepmothers, the poisoner of many apples, The Evil Queen. And she needs help. Although at the time of jumping through the mirror, Zinnia did not know that. Even the worst of the worst might have a redeeming quality buried deep inside them, and they need a better ending than to be put in hot metal shoes, or crumble and wither to dust. Or, if you take the Disney version, driven off of a cliff. Either way, The Evil Queen's future is one of horror, and she wants a new ending.
“You have to make the best of whatever story you were born into, and if your story happens to suck ass, well, maybe you can do some good before you go.”
I have often said that Alix E. Harrow cannot write a bad thing. For me, as a reader, her words and stories indeed resonate. When I hear that she will have a new release, I look forward to it for months. A Mirror Mended is no different. I highly enjoyed this story, with a few caveats. Like the first in this series, Zinnia is snarky and likable. I get her humor; maybe it is because I, too, have quite the sardonic tongue. A Mirror Mended is a story that does not take itself too seriously. How could it? Fairy tales, while important culturally, are often a bit tongue and cheek. I am glad that Harrow moved on to another fairy tale just as dark as Sleeping Beauties. Disney sure does enjoy tarting up stories for the masses, especially when the underbelly of the story is figuratively infested with worms.
Harrow is also a master world-builder. Granted, the world of Sleeping Beauty and Snow White were reasonably solid from the original stories, but she takes all those ideas and convincingly twists them. It is one of the things I enjoy about her as an author; she knows how to make the unbelievable into the believable.
“The mirror showed me you, out of all the possible people in all the universes,' It sounds almost like an apology. ‘Why?'
‘Well, what were you doing at the time?'
‘I was looking into the mirror, obviously. Wishing for a way out.'
‘Well, so was I. As it happens.”
The caveats as mentioned above are that Zinnia's quippyness, her snark, came off less as a popping soap bubble of humor and more like a defense mechanism, and given the context of the story, it didn't quite fit right for me as a reader. This might be entirely on me and what I see in Zinnia as a character, but often her dialog seemed too forced. And in a story this short, something like that can quickly drive out a reader, as it did with me.
Even with this sidenote, this is a hell of a good story. Her record for writing killer novels and short stories continues. I highly recommend this as a nice little jaunt into fairy tales. Make sure you read the first novel, A Spindle Splintered, first so you can get all the references and enjoy Harrow's mastery.
Eddie Robson, of the comic book ( 2000 AD, Transformers: Prime, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Captain America: Living Legend) and short story (mainly from his work in the mesmerizing Dr. Who series) brings us his third novel entitled, Drunk on all your Strange New Words. A book that I was thoroughly engrossed in until at 60%, in which I became hopelessly lost for a bit.
“The world has enabled so many bullshitters. It's exhausting.”
The narrative is a locked room murder mystery, a “who done it,” if you will. The idea of the story is relatively straightforward; Lydia, who works as a translator for the alien cultural attache, becomes embroiled in political schemes, xenophobia, and more. All she wants is to keep her job and stay out of jail. The political machinations are not at the forefront of the story as in other science fiction novels. Instead, this is a light-hearted science fiction comedy with politics and a locked-door mystery.
The Logi is a species of first-contact aliens here on Earth, learning about our culture and who we are as a people. They are decidedly different than us; they speak via mind-to-mind communication, are more robust, and cannot abide our electronic technology. They prefer the tangible paper book to the electronic VR technology that is prevalent and used everywhere.
The protagonist Lydia is a wholly likable, flawed character. She is a little frazzled when an ordinary person should be distressed, and a bit lost when all the pieces don't make sense. I appreciated that about her character. I find that often when you read this kind of murder mystery novel, the protagonist or lead “detective” has an extraordinary level of perception. One is not believable in any other character than Jane from The Mentalist and Sherlock Holmes. Lydia is no Sherlock or Jane. She is winging it as best as she can with the wits she grew up with and her education at the language institute.
The relationship between the Logi and their interpreters is exciting and well done. I have never thought about mind-to-mind communication that would make one of the parties drunk. They become “drunk on all your strange new words.”
The Logi are not dressed up as humans with human reactions; they are very much a different species than humans, although humans and Logi have figured out how to live and together. But there are responses and interplay between the humans and Logi that I can see happening, people being people and as varied as human beings are, a group would inevitably develop xenophobic reactions to the Logi and creatures that are so “alien.”
In the background, there is a climatic disaster. This story is taken place long after the seas have risen, large swaths of land are unusable, and few significant cities still exist. This backdrop is not done in a hamfisted way and is a nod to the real climatic concerns humans are dealing with now. This story is grounded in a possible future. One, I hope that will not happen.
Drunk on all Your Strange New Words is a new and entertaining novel by Author Eddie Robson. It is a wonderful way to laze the day away and learn about The Logi, their love of books made of paper, and the unfortunate occurrence that sets Lydia into a tailspin.
Legend & Lattes by Travis Bladree is a fantasy story wrapped in a warm hug with a side of scones and a perfectly creamy dark roast latte. Travis Baldree, the famous audio narrator, has offered a gift to the reading world with an un-schmaltzy story that even the hardest of grimdark readers can get behind.
“it was like drinking the feeling of being peaceful. Being peaceful in your mind. Well, not if you have too much, then it's something else.”
The story follows Viv, an Orc, as she leaves her bloodstained warrior days behind her. She came to a moment where she knew she would never find happiness in her current profession. Plus, there was that magical cup of wonder she had at that gnomish city a while ago. It was time for her to set down the sword, pick up the dish towel, and hopefully find some peace.
She finds a city that is not too large, not too small but is a perfect size. She finds a property in disrepair and goes to work. Firstly, no one but her knows what coffee is. They drink tea here, for shame. Secondly, she has no staff; thirdly, her “coffee house” is a horse stable. She is going to need some help.
And I think that is the point, she no longer has to do everything alone; she can make relationships and does. Great ones. Viv stumbles here and there, but her friends help her get through the worst things using their best skills. I like that Bladree shows that people can change and can grow.
While this is a hopeful fantasy, hope punk, if you will, there is still conflict. This slight conflict kept the story from going too sticky-sweet. Instead, the variance of the story helped balance out the elements. Travis Baldree knew what to do to make the story balance out.
If you enjoy cozy stories that warm even the coldest and deadest of hearts, read Legend & Lattes. Use it as a refresher between bouts of Mark Lawrence or Joe Abercrombie. Sometimes the world is not as heartless as we think and a warm, perfectly made cup of coffee is all it takes to make everything all better.
Ben Sullivan, the lead protagonist of Stringers, Chris Panatier's new novel, has a wild view of the world. Imagine having a mind that is chockful of useless information, information that has somehow inexplicably been there your whole life. Add in heaping loads of social awkwardness, and you have Ben. His whole life has been full of oppressive details about the mating habits of animals, exotic watches, fly lure creation, and not much else.
We start our story with Ben at work making an exotic and beautiful fly lure, and he is being accosted by a customer Jim. Jim would like “oneuh them boom trains then.” Ben reminds Jim that he can have one of them boom trains flys for some cold hard currency. We segway from the current conversation into the mating habit of moles, dolphins, and porcupines. This intrusiveness of thoughts permeates every waking moment for, Ben. His life is one constant battle against animal sex lives, watches, and fly lures.
His desperation is apparent. From a character perspective, I think Panatier did a great job with Ben. Ben is more than his quirks, but his battle with his quirks defines who he is out in the world. From there, we segway to the Ben's Samwise Gamgee, Patton. Patton is a screwup, an often drugged kid in an adult's body who never could grow up. He is also fiercely loyal. We should all be so lucky to have the caliber of friend that Patton is.
Again, in a moment of great desperation and curiosity, Ben finds another person in an online group who has similar issues as he has and decides to meet up with them. Patton fears that Ben will be made into a skin vest or something and demands that he comes along. He is always trying to protect his friend. One thing leads to another, and aliens abduct both Patton and Ben.
Now the real adventure starts.
This story's blurb proclaims it to be a bit like Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, except instead of towels, the friends are armed with a giant container of pickles and whatever wits the two f them can scrape up together. I found this to be very true. Stringers is an amusing story; it wasn't “side stitch” funny but undoubtedly funny enough to see how ridiculous this predicament is.
I also loved how Panatier described space and aliens. It wasn't hard science fiction, but just enough details, especially about what a stringer actually is, to make my science fiction-loving heart happy. And to top it off, Panatier nailed the ending. None of which I can talk about for fear of giving anything away.
All and all, this is one of my favorite science fiction reads so far this year. So much so that I will check out Panatier's The Phlebotomist. I am in for a treat if the writing is anywhere near as fun as this is.
The Best Thing You Can Steal, by Simon R. Green, has a new series starring a group of thieves and scoundrels set in an urban fantasy world where magic is real. Each group member has a unique set of skills that make them invaluable for the planned heist. Think Ocean's 11 meets Nightside with a bit of Dresden Files, and you have this new series. It is such fun.
“Welcome to London, but not as you know it. A place where magics and horror run free, wonders and miracles are everyday things, and the dark streets are full of very shadowy people . . .“
The story starts with introducing a gentleman scoundrel named Gideon Sable, and no, that is not his real name. He stole this identity like he steals most things, but he now wears this persona like a second skin. He has become the legendary namesake, and all it was to be the master thief, Gideon Sable. And boy, does Gideon he have a heist in mind.
Gideon is the brains of this heist, the cunning rogue who has plans inside plans. More importantly, Gideon is insanely likable. Imagine Danny Ocean but with magic items. I liked him from the first pages of the story, which is a massive credit to Green as an author.
Aside from Gideon, you have his fabulous collection of rogues and malcontents, the Damned, the Ghost, the Wild Card, and Gideon's ex-girlfriend, Annie Anybody. The Ghost is just that, a ghost. He can move through spaces and is only visible to a select few. The Wild Card is a man who has seen some things that make him a complete wild card. Luck bends and twists in weird ways with him. You really have no idea what will happen in his presence. The Damned is a soul who is cursed. He was asked to steal something unstealable from a celestial being, and in doing so, he became something else. Even shadows slink away from him. He is not a man to be trifled with. The last is Gideon's former flame, Annie anybody, a woman who can be anyone; luck and perception bend to her. Her powers are a bit hit and miss but interesting.
“And we set of with speed for the bright lights of London. A car full of weird with a ghost on top.”
This book is pure fun. The Best Thing You Can Steal isn't perfect. The caper wasn't as convincing as I wished it had been, but I think that takes a solid back seat to the fantastic characters and powers. Again likening it to Ocean's 11, you didn't watch Ocean's 11 for the intricate heist. You watched Ocean's 11 for the characters coming together in their respective elements and doing some thievery. The Best Thing You Can Steal does exceptionally well, and it is worth checking out, as is pretty much any of Green's books. His Welcome to the Nightside books are legend.