Beth Tabler

I received a copy of this from Netgalley and the Publisher in exchange for my open and honest review.

Joanna Kavenna's highly unusual and unpredictable novel, Zed is not what you expect. Going into the story, and looking at the gorgeous cover, you would think that what you are in for is a deep science fiction story. While reading it, your perception of the story changes to confusion. Then you realize what this is, is a stylistic darkly humorous techno-thriller that is more about how digitally enthralled we are with technology and human nature, then the ins and outs of the technology itself.

The story starts with Douglas Varley, a technologist for a large company called Beetle. Beetle reminds me of what Amazon could be in 10 years and no laws. Beetle has integrated itself into every facet of human life. From the regulation of physiological things, “You might need to do some deep breathing Eloise. Your pulse is elevated, and something is burning.” To society, people are paid in beetle credits. Predictive algorithms predict crimes before they happen, programs speak for you, and humanity is quantified down to data points and numbers. Other characters, company owner Guy Matthias, and police officer Eloise Jayne also have interesting parts that balance out the weird dynamics of such a dizzying computer-driven world. All of these data points and prediction, belie the one unquantifiable behavior humans have, choice. The choice humans have to behave unpredictably.

This story is written in almost a frenetic style. It bounces from one character to the next, then through technical jargon and back again. It is spastic and, at times, challenging to follow. Stylistically, the idea behind the novel is excellent. Technology has infused our existence. We talk to our phones more than we talk to people. We talk about idealistic human behavior but often lack context. We live in soundbites in this digital world. But because of the frenzied pace of the story and dialog, I had a difficult time making connections with the story. Instead of caring about any of the characters, It all blended in a freewheeling cacophony of digital noise. In hindsight, this may have been the point all along from author Joanna Kavenna. But for me, as a reader, it felt very flat.

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Thanks to Netgalley and Ace for an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.

Honestly, I don't think I can get enough Dresden Files. He just gets better and better. Often when you are reading a long-running serious, it gets stale and stagnates. This hasn't, it has gotten better. The characters flesh out more with each book, and in this book particularly we got a great story written from the point of view of “Gentleman” Johnny Marcone. Yes! It reads even better than it sounds. I know this is a re-release, but I haven't read the other anthologies so this is brand new to me. Plus, we have stories from Butters, which is fantastic, and Molly which are just as good and fleshed put as Dresden himself.

This was a great holdover for when the next book comes out, and I definitely suggest reading it. It isn't absolutely necessary to read the Dresden Files before picking this up, but it would help understand the characters a bit more. There. That is your excuse to get into this fantastic series. Dooooo itttttttt.

This was fun albeit slightly flat graphic novel read. Sarah Vaughn has written a story about the kingdom of Harbeny, and Lady “Poppy” Pyppenia and her sleepless knight. Sleepless knight as a play on words. He is a knight who protects Poppy and does not sleep, ergo, sleepless knight. This is a “who done it” style story. Assasins threaten Poppy's life and it is her knights responsibilty to keep her safe. Much intrigue happens over the course of the story and ends rather abruptly.

There are quite a few positives about this book:

Lovely art work. I enjoy Del Luca's style. The artwork is stylized without becoming unreadable.
Sweet and believable budding romance between the main characters.
Well done high fantasy
A diverse cast of characters
I did have some difficulties with the pacing. though. It feels too choppy and in that choppiness I lost the plot a few times and wasn't able to connect with the characters like I would like to. I found myself asking, “Why should I care about this?” Because of that I will probably not continue the series.

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.

I was supplied with an ARC of this novel from netgalley.com for a honest review.

Well jesus-riding-a-pogo-stick.. that is a weird take on James Bond mythos.

First lets talk about what is completely awesome about this story. It is offensive (in a good way), ribald, crazy, and exceptionally well drawn. The writing is comedic and dirty but still very smart. Typical of Ennis's books, of which I am a huge fan. Specifically It reminds me a lot of the style of “The Boys.” Gratuitous sex and violence.

What I found to be not so hot was stories pacing. It didn't seem to get anywhere till the very last part of the book. The rest of it was some lead up and a lot of dick jokes, Eh I really think Garth Ennis could have done better in that department.

All in all I would recommend this series to readers after they have read some of Ennis's better work: Preacher and The Boys specifically. He really shines in those and the characters are spectacularly put together. Also this has to be said, you really should not read this book if you are not an adult and even then it's iffy. I felt like I needed a shower to wash some mental grime off from reading some of his other stories, and this story is not an exception. However for this series there is more story to be written maybe it will get pulled together in one glorious climax (he he). We shall see where it goes.

I am a long time reader of Laurell K. Hamilton. So much so, that I have been to conventions, book signings, and meet-ups because I was such a fan. But, something happened along the way. Maybe I have changed, or maybe she has. But, Anita Blake has lost its magic. I went into reading this story with both apprehension and hope. Maybe things have changed since the last Anita book I read, book 16? They haven't. After reading this all I can come up with is this story is the verbal sludge of Anita's brain. It is too many emotions, asides, and inner monologing. I like Anita as a character, and this being book 26 the reader has probably figured out a lot of what Laurell K. Hamilton tells us about what is going on inside her head. so we don't need 300 pages of inner monologing about how Anita feels about being poly. Or how she likes Nathaniel's ass or jean Claudes eyes.

I am done. It has been a “mostly” wonderful road Laurell. But this novel is middling at best. If you write another series, I will gladly take it for a spin. But I am done with Anita.

Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for providing a copy of this in exchange for my honest opinion.

I really wanted to love this. I have read quite a few books on adopting the minimalist lifestyle over the last few years and this seems more of the same. But the problem is this is just a regurgitation of all the basic adages of, “have you used this in the last two months, do you love it?” It isn't groundbreaking, but it isn't bad. Also, I had some issues with some of her suggestions. They aren't practical, but I just may not be her target audience. All in all not a bad book, but just not for me.

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.

The novel Kingshold by self-published author, D.P Woolliscroft and is the first offering of the Wildfire Cycle series. If I could describe Kingshold in a few lines, it would be a beautiful but complicated tapestry. It is written in the vein of dark and intricate fantasy, much like the Malazan series or The Darkness That Comes Before. There are magic and fantasy aspects in Kingshold, but they come second to the political and societal maneuvers of the characters. Because of the breadth and scope of the worldbuilding, the first 200 pages of the story are on the slow side. I don't fault the author for this. He had a lot of history and territory to layout for the reader. Subsequently, I would think later books in the series, Tales of Kinghold and Ioth, City of Lights, require much less narrative exposition and worldbuilding to get going. If you stick with the story and let Woollenscroft build a foundation for the politics and intrigue to sit in, you are rewarded with a well crafted and entertaining political fantasy story.

Kingshold is a place that has been riotously turned on its head. The king and queen of the city have been murdered, their heads set upon pikes. The governing body is in chaos. It is a vacuum that wants to be filled by the vainglorious and social climbers. Jyuth, the ancient wizard that had guided the court for centuries, is guilty of the regicide. Tired of bad kings and queens, he sets out the rules for a new election.

The people will vote on a new leader.

Anyone can vote as long as you can put in the 1000 coins to earn a spot at the voting table. This causes the disenfranchisement of many would-be voters; only the rich and elite get a say. And with that thought, the race to the crown proceeds. There are death, back-stabbing, pay-offs, propaganda, and riots. Everything you would come to expect in a situation like that.

Kingshold is entirely character-driven once the settings are set for the story. Most of it revolves around Mareth, the bard. Mareth is a man with stars in his eyes and the intelligence to help shape the future of Kingshold. Jyuth is the great wizard that set about starting this tumultuous election in the first place. Both of these characters' machinations shape the kingdom's future.


Another one of the real strengths of the story is the humour. This isn't a powerful laugh-out-loud type story. But Woolliscroft does a great job in injecting a bit of lightheartedness into conversations that lift the dialog and keeps the pacing from getting stodgy. I appreciated that as a reader, and it was an excellent counterpoint to the dark political intrigue and backstabbing.

The engaging and detailed political plots, along with the humor and gorgeous worldbuilding, made this a treat to read. I look forward to tackling the next book in the series.

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.

I am on my second P. Djèlí Clark novella, and all I can say is that I want to read everything I can get my hands on written by this guy.

This story takes place in an alternative history of Egypt after the Britsh rule was overthrown in 1879. Now, the year is 1912. Cairo is written as a mix of history, culture, steampunk, and magic. Djinns walk the world freely, ghosts haunt, and magic makes the world flow. This story stars a collection of characters, namely agents Hamed Nasr and Onsi Youssef. They represent the interests of the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments, and Supernatural Entities. They get called in to investigate a tram car, part of the transportation system in Cairo, that seems to be haunted.
Nothing is as it seems, but they are tasked to fix the situation as speedily as possible.

One of the best parts of Clark's writing is the texture and beauty of his descriptions. He builds a fluid, and magical world that is on one hand, believable and on the other completely stretches the imagination. The story is fascinating in its own right, but the backstory and current of political tensions that flow behind the main characters are well done. Political upheaval is everywhere in the form of women's suffrage. Women are close to getting the right to vote, and that plays a massive part in how characters behave and relate to other characters in the story. The political climate is a live wire snapping and sparking.

Hamad, the lead investigator for the story, is a steampunk world-weary sam spade type character. He has seen a lot, experienced a lot, and has developed a certain pragmatism towards cases. At the same time as issues pop up he pragmatically handles them, he is also funny and adds a bit of mischievousness to the story. I enjoyed reading his interactions with various people and entities.

Clark writes a fascinating story, one that doesn't fall short. There are no coy or trumped up false moments. This is just fantastic storytelling, and I hope that he writes a full-length novel so I can read how he develops a story beyond a novella. He has a knack for creation and worldbuilding. I recommend it wholeheartedly.

I am one of the editors of this edition and I am so proud of how it turned out. If you are looking for a read that straddles the line between horror and SFF, this issue has some great stories for you.

Sweet wonderful nerdy Love.

The Chosen Twelve by James Breakwell touts itself as a Lord of the Flies and Phillip K. Dick type story. For the most part, it does hit those marks without straying too far into either one to be uncomfortable for readers. Which I think is this story's most significant flaw.

The subject matter should be uncomfortable.

The Chosen Twelve starts with, “God lived in the coffee maker on deck four. Only Gamma Knew.” Gamma, one of humankind's last organic beings, is standing before a door that may or may not be trying to kill him. On the other side of this door might be God. If only he could make it through this door.

You see, in Gamma's world, most of the machines are trying to kill the organics. Their programming has fizzled and popped and, in many cases, gained sentience. The machines have learned that humans should die. If Gamma steps through this door, he could be crushed to death. But on the other side, there might be answers. Gamma's life has been long, and he has been kept in the proverbial dark by the machines that control his survival. But like a man searching for water in the desert, Gamma believes that he can get answers if he can just make it through this door.

Gamma runs through the door, but the door is too quick and catches his arm and almost severs it. He begins to scream, but the ship is so big and full of so many things trying to kill you; the odds are that he will die with his arm trapped like a bear caught in a bear trap.

The “children” of the story, all 22 of them, are the last humans in the universe. The artificial intelligence that controls their ship grew them from embryonic form with the help of another machine designated, Edubot. The 22 fledgling humans were raised and educated according to the machine's ultimate goals. The humans would survive and help repopulate a planet and serve the machines. Thus helping create new computers from the raw materials on the colonized planet, they found. The children also live exceptionally long lives, with the help of technology, but are kept at the physical maturation age of 12.

They are 12, but not really.

The machines waited until the right moment to send the children to the planet and begin reconstruction, and that time is now.
Conflicts arise with the AI that controls the humans and with each other. We get our Lord of the Flies moments with that many different personalities and skill levels and only 12 seats to go to the planet. Humans can be real bastards to each other when there are scarce resources.

I enjoyed the characters of Gamma and Delta quite a bit. They stood in stark contrast to some of their classmates—especially Delta, who raised herself above her classmates in both skill and desire for a better world. The cast of characters is very long, named for the Greek alphabet, and they drop like flies. You care a great deal about some characters, while others pass by like a ship in the night.

Even with the level of deceit and violence the characters display, it doesn't venture near enough into the darkness of the human psyche for me to honestly believe in the predicament they face. These aren't children; their bodies belie the minds encased within, and I would expect them to act as such. Delta comes close, though. She starts to understand the necessity of some of her choices and feels the moral burden they entail.

There are certainly some very dark moments and bloodshed in The Chosen Twelve. The fight scenes are frenetic and well-written. It was hard for me to imagine swords in space like this, but Breakwell makes it work.

This is a highly imaginative novel. The predicaments the characters face are just shy of excessive and ridiculous, but if anything is possible, the highly imaginative and crazy can become plausible. Almost cherry-flavored food rations that you have to beg machines for, check. A robot that thinks of itself as a king, check. A metallurgist making swords that can cut through anything, check. Breakwell makes the scenarios work. And while I couldn't entirely shed disbelief, I was highly entertained by the dark comedy, fight scenes, and narrative.

I think this story will engage readers who like their science fiction and fantasy on the darker side. While it did not stray dark enough for me personally, Breakwell makes this highly imaginative story work and is worth reading.

Adrian Tchaikovsky takes on a dark satire in Ogres.

“Ogres are bigger than you.
Ogres are stronger than you.
Ogres rule the world.”

Adrian Tchaikovsky, the uber-talented, multi-genre author, has brought us a new novella that delves deeply into a science fiction dystopia where humans are bifurcated between the “haves” and “have nots.” The “haves” are those that exist modification free. They are societies workers, cooks, maids, and craftsmen. They serve the “haves,” who are the lords and ladies of all by blood and economic level and they only eat the “have nots...” occasionally.

“But when you're property, it doesn't matter if your owner treats you well or badly. The ownership is all. We don't split hairs about who is a better slave master. And you would have been the best owner of all, and that still isn't enough reason to keep you alive once you've decided that owning people is fine, just so long as it's you that owns them.”

Torquell is the protagonist of Ogres, and while he is tall and over 6', he is undoubtedly not an ogre. “But when the headman's son, Torquell, dares lift his hand against the landlord's son, he sets himself on a path to learn the terrible truth about the Ogres and the dark sciences that ensured their rule.” I wish I could say more, but this is a concise and tight book. It would ruin the conflict, surprise, and resolution. But let's just say that Ogres is such a surprising book. Tchaikovsky writes about the power inblalances such a system would cause and the slow realization Torquell has as everything he knows comes crumbling down. It is superbly written. I have never read a Tchaikovsky story that missed the mark. Stories that are long-form, serial, novella, or short story, he nails it, and this is no exception.

I loved this story, and I finished it in a single sitting once I picked it up.

August Kitko and the Mechas from Space by Alex White is a kaleidoscope of a space opera story mixed with music notes and cinematic worldbuilding that takes the reader on a wild robot-fueled ride. If I had a visual comparison, think Speed Racer by the Wachowski sisters, mixed with Pacific Rim by Guillermo Del Toro. It is a whole vibe and one in which Alex White revels. You know he had to be cheering on the characters as he was writing this.

The plot starts with August Kitko staring at his demise on the cliff's edge. August, Gus for short, is one of our protagonists, and he is a lover and player of jazz who truly feels music in his soul. But like his fellow humans, Gus has resigned himself to the fate of imminent death. He is at a party at the estate of Lord Elisa Yamazaki. The last party of humanity is a literal “eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die” affair.

“These are Gods, and they speak with infinite choris.”

Humans are dying, not with a bang but with a single discordant note. An army of AI sentient Mechas from space are slowly destroying humanity by downloading each person's consciousness and killing their bodies. Some of these killer robots break off, join the humans, and fight for humanity. The only caveat is that these robots need humans to pilot them, a prospect that would fundamentally change the human pilot forever.

Alongside Gus, we have our other protagonist Ardent Violet, a mega-pop star who shines with an inner light all their own. Again, in the same way music sings for Gus on his piano, music sings for Ardent on their guitar. Unlike Gus, Ardent is super famous. Both Gus and Ardent's lives become intertwined. They have undeniable chemistry with one each other.

The Vanguard arrives on Earth in the form of a mecha named Juliette. A giant sleek purple robot set to start the maiming and destroying of bodies and reaping of consciousnesses. Then with an explosion of a “colorful Borealis of solar particles rippling across Earth's atmosphere,” a sleek black Vanguard streaks across the sky. It is Greymalkin, the destroyer of seventeen worlds. The humans stare in stunned silence at the display of power, much like ants would stare in horror at an oncoming boot. The titans crash into each other in a thunderous cacophony. The Vanguards speak to each other in musical ululations, and above it all, Gus picks out F Dorian the favorite of jazz musicians everywhere.

Instead of gawking with the multitude of slack-jawed humans, Gus wants his true solace at the piano. “He taps the F-zero key, and it's like heaven under his fingertips.” Gus lays in an effortless sound that “shifts modes to keep in sync with his new playmates,” the Vanguards crashing into each other outside. Gus dances over the sound of the robots outside as if they are playing for him. “If they want to end the world, fuck them. At least he can make it catchy.” Gus plays for the lost dead, his friends, his family, and the last vestiges of humanity.

Then ardent, whom he connected with earlier, come in like a ray of sunshine; they brandish a red metal flake strat. And they prepare to play to the end of humanity until a black metal fist punches the wall in and grabs Gus.

One of the particular thrills of this story is the love of music and art. The story itself ebbs and flows like a symphony. I am not sure if that was a purposeful stroke by the author or me reading into it from being swept away by the descriptions of music. But the descriptions speak to the universal connections music gives us that are not bound by language or creed. Outside of the main characters, Gus and Ardent, the supporting characters we meet later in the novel also have a deep love for music, but with different instruments. I love that White is touching on how music is culturally boundless.

If you have giant robots, we have to talk about the fights. Firstly, we get descriptions of every Vanguard that comes in swinging. The descriptions and names are fantastic because it is akin to cheering the home team on. You have a much greater connection to these giants than them being a nameless horde. Every punch and kick is choreographed to have the most effective mental image. The swings are enormous, the slams are massive, and machine parts fly. In the belly of the gigantic beasts are pilots controlling it all.

Why does this story work? I think in lesser hands, this story could be a mess. There are a lot of working pieces. However, White helps us keep our eye on the ball. We care about the protagonists, probably more so than the fate of humanity in general. Gus and Ardent are not perfect in any way. Ardent can be narcicistic, and Gus can be melodramatic. But both characters rise above through pain, terror, failure, and heroism. They reach inside themselves to be more than they ever thought possible. Someone has to step up and do it, so why not them?

Is this book for everyone? Absolutely not. As I said earlier, this book is a kaleidoscope—a crazy fast, moving, loud story with brilliant lights and massive highs and lows. It isn't for someone who enjoys subtle prose. It is intense from the first page to the last. So if you enjoy stories like Nophek Gloss by Essa Hansen and Far From the Light of Heaven by Tade Thompson, this story is for you.

I received a copy of this from Netgalley and the Publisher in exchange for my open and honest review.

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Kel Kade's book, Fate of the Fallen, is a book of tropes turned on their head and flipped all around. For example, how many books have you read about a small-town farming boy and his trusty best friend that learns that he has a magical destiny and is fated to either destroy or save the world? How about that farming boy that was raised by a wise old man who happens to be a wizard. And that wizard has kept it a secret all these years. These tropes are here, sort of.

Here is where this story gets good...

Kade has taken these time old formulas and flipped them all around. Instead of the small-town boy fulfilling the prophecy, he dies in the second chapter. His best friend has to take his head and do all he can do to help save his friends and family. Imagine if Frodo died, and Samwise Gamgee had to take over his quest alone while carrying Frodo's magically bespelled. The old male father figure wizard trope is instead replaced by a female who is a witch. It entirely changes the tone of the story, for the better. And the prophecy is going to come true no matter what. No matter what.

I can't tell you much more about the plot because this is a story that even merely alluding to events in the story that will ruin it. Just know that hackneyed tropes are thrown out the window for fresh and bright storytelling that is enthralling and heartbreaking at the same time. There was more than one time during this story, where I had to put the book down and say out loud, “Damn.”

The side characters are just as exciting as the main protagonist, and I enjoyed the interactions and reactions that Kade has written. The dialog and prose of the story flow from moment to moment but is not jam-packed with so much action and detail that the reader gets tired. It is just enough to keep you only slightly breathless, but always wanting more. Another thing is this story is funny as hell. It had me guffawing and howling a couple of times. Kade really taps into the snark on this one.

Fate of the Fallen is a story that I just loved. It is everything a reader wants out of a fantasy romp. It has great characters, exciting twists, funny dialog, and a protagonist that you want to know more about. Definitely one of the best books I have read this year and I can't wait to read more from Kade.

Holly Black's foray into the adult market with Book of Night did not strictly come off with a bang as die-hard fans of her YA series' had hoped, but more with a tentative hand raise of “Present.” This isn't bad; Book of Night, the story of a thief turned bartender named Charlie Hall and her dealing with the world of murder most foul, robbery, and mystical shadows, was entertaining.

At least most of the time.

The premise is thus, “In Charlie Hall's world, shadows can be altered, for entertainment and cosmetic preferences—but also to increase power and influence. You can alter someone's feelings—and memories—but manipulating shadows has a cost, with the potential to take hours or days from your life. Your shadow holds all the parts of you that you want to keep hidden—a second self, standing just to your left, walking behind you into lit rooms. And sometimes, it has a life of its own.”

“If she couldn't be responsible or careful or good or loved, if she was doomed to be a lit match, then Charlie might as well go back to finding stuff to burn.”

As far as positives for the novel, there are quite a few. Holly Black does well with dialog and characterization. A quality that she has carried on from her Folk of Air and Modern FairyTale series. Charlie is an interesting character, not specifically likable. She is a little too thorny to be likable, but she is certainly interesting. This is the start of issues for me. Charlie is enjoyable but not memorable. I wish she were, and maybe in future books, she will find her footing and start to crystalize into who she is meant to be. But right now, she has a little pluck, a little moxy, low self-esteem, bad luck with people, and a large heart for those she loves.

Vince, her love interest, was pleasant, but while I have a relatively clear picture of Charlie and a feel for her character, I don't have that with Vince. He was a nice guy; that's about all I got. This might be why the story did not connect with me as much as I wish it had. Vince is a critical person in Charlie's life.

The premise is a fantastic concept, But I would have killed for more info about the world of magic. I love the idea of shadows taking on a life of their own for the select few who achieve the skill. But the magic part of the world came in drips and drops throughout the story, leaving me unsatisfied. The cost of shadow use is blood; if it is blood, let the story be dark. Blood as fuel is a dark concept, and I wish it were explored. Maybe it is because I tend to like my stories on the dark side of things, but I was aching to hear more about this dark magic.

“Never met a bad decision she wasn't willing to double down on. Had fingers made for picking pockets, a tongue for lying, and a shriveled cherry pit for a heart.”

The pacing of the book is very uneven. The beginning is on the slow side. There is a lot of world-building and background info that Black is explaining, and I don't mind that. I think that some readers may have an issue with that, though. The last half of the book was so jammed-packed with action that I got lost here and there.

Overall, this isn't a bad book. I don't think it is Black's best work by any metric, but I look forward to seeing where this series goes once it finds its footing and Charlie solidifies a bit as a protagonist.

This is us, my husband and I. I love this sweet without being sappy book of happy moments. The drawings are adorable. Go read it and get all the feels.

Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhorse follows protagonist Maggie Hoskie as she lives and battles in the “sixth world.” The Sixth World is the age that has come after climate change and the big floods that have taken most of the land. Maggie, or Mags, as she is called, is a survivor. “Maggie Hoskie is a Dinétah monster hunter, a supernaturally gifted killer. When a small town needs help finding a missing girl, Maggie is their last—and best—hope. But what Maggie uncovers about the monster is much larger and more terrifying than anything she could imagine.” She was the victim of great violence as a teenager, thus shuttling her on a path of fighting monsters.

Because of the flooding, referred to as “big water” several changes have occurred on the lands. Large walls have enveloped the southwest. These walls, 50 feet tall, were magically created to protect the Navajo Nation of Dinétah. They keep the floods and the people at bay. Also, some individuals have “clan powers” or powers that represent the clan they are from. In Mag's case, it is the power of fighting, and she has the skills of the warrior inside her. This allows her to eke out a small existence as a bounty hunter and monster killer in exchange for small amounts of tradeable goods or money.

“Everything you've done, your past, it's all just a story you tell yourself. Some of it is true, but some of it is lies.”
― Rebecca Roanhorse, Trail of Lightning

Like many other main protagonists with incredible gifts, Mags is wracked by guilt. She has a difficult time defining what she is. Is she a monster, or is she a person who has done awful things to survive. This is the underlining theme of the story. Are we defined by what we do, or can we rise above our pasts? The story is made even more enjoyable by some well written supporting characters. Firstly, Grandpa Tah. He is an old medicine man that has helped and saved Mags in the past when no one else would. He sees her as an adopted daughter and treats her like family. Then there is Tah's grandson, Kai. Kai starts as a charismatic character, but further develops and changes as we learn more about him and his motivations.

“We were safe. Safe from the outside world, at least. But sometimes the worst monsters are the ones within.”
― Rebecca Roanhorse, Trail of Lightning

First, let me say, “I loved this book.” I loved this book hard, from start to finish. I have a soft spot for character-driven stories like this, and Roanhorse did a great job of balancing character arcs and development with action. The characters developed deep and complicated relationships with each other that allow the reader to latch on and become engrossed in the story. Additionally, the fact that it is written with rich Native American stories and culture is rare in fantasy, and I am so glad that this book exists.

“Sometimes, the ones we call our heroes are the greatest monsters of all.”
― Rebecca Roanhorse, Trail of Lightning

This book had some detractors, some small problems that I encountered that took me out of the story a few times. The pacing is good and generally even. However, when the pacing dips, it dips hard—some of the character interactions were a little confusing, especially at the end. I would have liked the relationship between Kai and Mags to progress a bit slower, especially with how reticent Mags was in trusting anyone. But that might be a personal preference.

I loved this book. I cannot wait to read the next one. Roanhorse is creating such a rich world in “the sixth world” series that I cannot wait to see what else happens to these characters.

I recommend.

Engines of the Empire by R.S. Ford is a book that I have been eyeing with excitement for the last six months. It did not disappoint and was just as exciting as I had hoped with a few caveats.

“How long do you think the battalions will carry on this war when it stops being profitable? This won't last.”

From the first chapter, where we meet one of our protagonists, Tyreta, the reader becomes very aware of the depth of the storytelling Ford brings. The story is separated into multiple very distinct points of view, mostly revolving around three siblings, Tyreta, Fulren, and Conall. Their lives go on very different winding paths in service to the empire. They are the Hawkspurs, heirs of the Hawkspur guild in the nation of Torwyn. Multiple guilds rule the empire through Plutocracy, which is explained in the story. But I am looking forward to learning more about the various guilds and how they work.

Additionally, the story is peppered with those who practice a craft with pyrstone that fuels the empire's machines. This craft reads like part magic and part science. Those who practice get a “feel” for the device and can control the machines from afar.

“By placing a number of pyrestones inside small conversion chambers, a webwainer could use them to imbue any piece of artifice to life.”

Encapsulating the story's narrative is a blanket of political intrigue, unrest, and colonialism. While we are viewing the story through the eyes of mainly three members of the ruling class of Torwyn, it is evident that Torwyn has not always been on the side of angels when it comes to relations with neighboring areas. Specifically, the nation of Nyrakkis, who are foreign, differs in every way from the nation of Torwyn.

The story starts with a random emissary from the country of Nyrakkis who has come to open up trade agreements with Torwyn. The deal that the emissary wants to broker would benefit both countries and start an age of great prosperity for the two nations. This kicks off a series of events that change the siblings' lives forever.

Engines of the Empire is not an easy fantasy book to read; instead, it asks a lot of the reader. You need to parse multiple levels of intrigue and points of view. But even with these various paths, Ford masterfully curves all paths back to the empire. No matter what, the fates of this family are intricately entwined with the people, culture, and future of the Torwyn society.

“There might be a price for this later. Lady Rosomon had never been a tolerant woman. Whatever that price was, Tyreta thought as a smile played across her lips, it had been worth it.”

When the 2/3rds through the book, the action sequences started to pick up, and it was like watching a movie. Even better, because the characters' paths go not just away from each other, but into new cultures. Ford wrote the combat as distinctly as the settings. Characters do not just fight, but they fight in ways characteristic of their cultures. If the worldbuilding did not hammer home how different the cultures are, the action will.

The one issue I had with the story, and is my caveat mentioned above, is that while these character paths expertly wind through the empire, the characters didn't feel like they have narrative arcs. I couldn't point to a goal for each of the characters except for lack of a better term, “level-up.” I needed more connection with the characters on an individual level that are less lofty than the empire's health. Because the characters didn't have that, the characters always felt at arm's length from me. I admit this might be a preference for me as a reader, but it was a sticking point for this story.

All in all, Engines of the Empire is an exciting story full of intrigue, worldbuilding, and power struggles. Any reader of classic fantasy will find a home inside Ford's world. It was a captivating story, and aside from my difficulties with how the characters were written, it was enthralling.

I look forward to seeing what happens next in this world!

3.5/5

Ringlander: The Path and the Way is a wonderfully detailed and exceptionally well-done fantasy story that stands out as one of the best titles I have read this year.

When I was asked to be a part of this tour, reading the book's blurb, I was very intrigued. “Holes between worlds are tearing through Rengas. Firestorms are raging as multiple realities battle for control of the elements. Even the Way, the turbulent channel that separates Nord, Határ, and Kemen, the lifeblood of the city of Tyr, has turned.

Kyira's search for her missing brother draws her away from the familiar frozen lines of Nord and south into the chaotic streets of Tyr, where games are played & battles fought. As reality tears, Kyira must choose between her family or her path before the worlds catch up with her.”

I mean, you pretty much had me at holes between worlds. The thought of things crashing through is a very powerful visual. However, the book was much more than I expected. While the worldbuilding is exquisitely done, what stood out for me was the characters. What I need to connect to a story entirely is a dialog that flows, characters that feel real, and protagonists that make me care. The characters are not cardboard cutouts. They have deep personal histories and cultures that help define their actions to the reader. Instead of one event, going to another event, then finishing. We have more reason for the actions done in the name of the plot. I appreciate that a lot as a reader.

Aside from the unique personal quests, the main characters go on, the rich history and backstory Jackson has built, we also have a current of political intrigue and oppression. The Bohr, a group of non-human oppressors, seek to claim all of the lands. They seek to dominate and conquer all around them. This layering of plot and history creates such a cool juxtaposition to the other worldbuilding and characters. Everything comes together.

All in all, this is a book not to be missed. Everything was correct for me. I was engaged, and I felt like I was reading something fresh and original, and I can't wait until I can read more books in this series.

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.

There is a lot of magic in Seanan McGuire's Wayward Children series and her newest addition, Where the Drowned Girls Go. Magic in the characters' hearts and magic in the worlds and doors she has built. And that magic comes through in every lyrical word spoken by the characters. It is an impressive feat to be this far into a series, book 7 to be exact, and still be impressed by the story. But I very much am.

While novels have a long time to tell a story, it has a chance to zig-zag, twist, and curl around, coming to a climax that is 400 or 500 pages in the making; novellas aren't like that. They do not have the luxury and word count to dance around. They need to be tight where every word is a choice, and every character's action is exacting. This tightness is why this particular series is so powerful. McGuire tells a lot, builds whole worlds behind hidden doors with a short page and word count.

The seventh book of the series, Where the Drowned Girls Go, builds a world, but it isn't behind a door but at a new facility. Instead, McGuire creates The Whitethorn Institute, A school that is the antithesis of Eleanor West's Home for Wayward Children. There are old characters that readers of the series have gotten quite fond of and new ones to meet and get to know.

Cora, a girl who has gone through a door and returned, is desperate for change. She is desperate to move on. However, The Drowned Gods of the Moors have her number and torment her nightly, begging her to give herself over to them—something she will not do. Cora decides that the only way to get away from them is a drastic change. She leaves Home For Wayward Children to The Whitethorn Institute.

Mcguire was able to describe The Whitethorn Institute in very few words. For me, it resembled a “therapeutic” Boarding school for Problem Children that use questionable methods. Cora decides that she needs to go there and forget because The Whitethorn Institute teaches you to forget.

It is not what she imagined it to be. The school is much, much worse.

This story has many themes, very much like the other books in the series that adolescents and adults face in their lives. Where the Drowned Girls Go deals with self-image, weight, and bullying. And much like the other books, McGuire does not bash the reader of the head with the themes. Instead, she weaves them into the story, so they make up the story's fabric. I left Where the Drowned Girls Go, remembering my issues with bullying as a child and an appreciation for Cora as a character.

In conclusion, check out Where the Drowned Girls Go but only if you have read the entire series. Reading the first six books gives you a full appreciation for the worlds McGuire has created and a heightened enjoyment of Where the Drowned Girls Go. There is true beauty in McGuires writing, and the Wayward Children Series can take you out of this world and through the doors into new ones.

I thought this was mostly an interesting read, but generally the story fell flat for me. I got lost in the art.