Beth Tabler
Who would you be if given everything, money, power, life, and magic?
There is an age-old saying first uttered by English historian Lord Acton, but it is now in common parlance that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. But, I think in terms of The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake, unlimited power, wealth, and magic doesn't corrupt per se, but it brings the chosen six more into who they already are. Weak, strong, or cruel the seeds were planted long ago amongst the students.
The story follows six advanced magic students with unusual or substantial magical gifts. They are those that float to the top as the cream of magical society.
“- Libby Rhodes and Nicolás Ferrer de Varona: inseparable enemies, cosmologists who can control matter with their minds.
- Reina Mori: a naturalist who can speak the language of life itself.
- Parisa Kamali: a mind reader whose powers of seduction are unmatched.
- Tristan Caine: the son of a crime kingpin who can see the secrets of the universe.
- Callum Nova: an insanely rich pretty boy who could bring about the end of the world. He need only ask.”
All so young, or beautiful and enchanting, or both. All, frankly, rather boring. A mysterious and powerful man invites these six people to a unique library where they can study and have access to the great collections of the lost Library of Alexandria, with a possibility of future advancement. Here they can further their skills if they work hard enough, except there is a catch. There is always a catch. Five, they are told, will be initiated. One will be eliminated.
“We are the gods of our own universes, aren't we? Destructive ones.”
In the blurb, it sounded fascinating. I love good dark academia. The darker, the better, as I am a little tramp for any that fall into this category. Plus books. Who knows what one could achieve if given access to these resources. The possibilities of where this plot could take me were endless.
But, nothing. Nothing really happens. Frustratingly so. Don't get me wrong; there is plenty of turmoil, relationship drama, and inner monologuing about “what does it all mean!?' The interpersonal relationship woes reminded me of a pseudo Dangerous Liaisons mixed with characters from the tv adaption of Lev Grossman's The Magicians. Especially Parisa as Margo Hanson and Callum as Elliot. While they are not carbon copies, the characters' attitudes reminded me of them.
“A flaw of humanity,” said Parisa, shrugging. “The compulsion to be unique, which is at war with the desire to belong to a single identifiable sameness.”
This is a darling of BookTok and gets talked about endlessly; much of what is hailed about The Atlas Six are the characters, but not so much the plot. Again, many of these characters have the depth of a teaspoon. So much so that I had a difficult time telling them apart. Libby and Nicolás Ferrer de Varona are easy to tell apart as they are unnecessarily swiping at each other because of “sexual tension.” Out of the bunch of characters, I enjoyed Nicolas the most. He had more depth than any of the other characters as we learned more about what was happening in his life outside of the competition.
Reina as a naturalist, was odd. I could differentiate her character by the amount of plant squealing and chatter she had to endure. Parisa was a seductress. I enjoyed her openness and freedoms, but it sometimes came off as forced. Tristan was a character that blossomed but got lost in the Libby, Parisa, and Callum machinations. Callum seemed like a sociopath.
The ending upset me so much that I stood in awe at it; either it is brilliant and above my intellect or, um, “what?” I don't even know what to say about it other than, “wow that came out of left field.”
Other than that, I have got nothing. There is a plot of something something, but it all gets lost in pretentious self-absorption.
I know this is a beloved book for many people, which is lovely! Not every book is for every reader, and this book was certainly not for me.
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.
Destiny for the Dead, Kel Kade's newest addition to the Shroud of the Prophecy series, aims to beat the hero's journey trope with a hammer. For the most part, this series, and specifically this story, Destiny for the Dead, is very successful in that aim. But I think as the story progresses, it is settling into some more of the common writing patterns we see in fantasy.
“Aaslo rubbed his chest as he led the odd group of horses and undead toward the chamber where he was most likely going to meet his own death.”
The story picks up directly where we left off in the first book, Fate of the Fallen. Aaslo and his merry band of thieves, prophets, drop-out wizards, and the undead are on the march from one spectacular fight to the next. This chapter is much more violent, and Aaslo starts to come into his powers a bit more thoroughly.
Fate of the Fallen aimed to subvert the chosen one trope, which it did well. However, now in book two, it feels like the story is moving towards a found-family quest-type fantasy. The subversion of the chosen one trope feels much less important than it did in Fate of the Fallen. I like how the story is progressing and maturing; I think if Kade kept hammering home how Shroud of the Prophecy was smashing the chosen one trope, it would feel hackneyed. Instead, it balances well.
Plot-wise, much of this story covers the political machinations of various gods and their minions. It is a bubbling brew of characters with different aims working against each other. My only slight qualm with this book is that it can be challenging to follow. There is so much going on that it is hard to latch onto any of the essential side characters. And there is no fluff; all side characters are purposeful to the driving narrative. But there are quite a few, and I got lost in them a few times. However, Aaslo's group, a found family, if you will, is fantastic. His group is peppered with distinctive voices that I knew and understood and followed.
For instance, Dolt, the weird horse who is more than just a ride, is hilarious. I am convinced that he is the reincarnation of Mathias; that is the sort of energy Dolt brings to the story. Teza is great, as is Mory, Peck, Myra the Reaper, and Ijen the not-so-helpful- Prophet. Ijen gets more fleshed out in this story, as does Myra. We have so much to learn about the two of them. Kade drops some profound tidbits that will be important in the third novel.
Aaslo, our protagonist, is such a refreshing character. Instead of an asshole, the antihero is philosophically an 80-year-old man yelling at folks to get off his lawn. I can picture Aaslo hitting some poor unsuspecting ten-year-old in the ass with a stick for stepping on his begonias. He wants none of this nonsense, but he will put up with it out of duty and love of humanity.
The actual chosen one, Mathias, who was preordained for greatness, resides in a bag that swings from Aslos hip. I love this little bit of macabre that Kade wrote into the story. Not only is the hero dead, but his head hangs from the hip of his best friend, and he talks to Aaslo. Mathias is super dead and an excellent comedic foil for Aaslo so that he might relax a little bit. It doesn't work, but Mathias tries.
Destiny for the Dead was one of the books I was looking forward to for 2022, and it didn't let me down. Unique voices, a moving plot, a bit of the macabre, and a unique narrative made this series a lot of fun. I can't wait for book 3.
I have one child, one child that I carried, all 12 pounds of her, and had her pulled from me, squalling into this awe-inspiring and cruel world. All of my love, hopes, and dreams for the future lay upon her tiny shoulders. As the saying goes, “my heart lives outside my chest.” This is why Mr. Death by the always incredible Alix E. Harrow smacked me around a bit emotionally. I empathized with both the reaper and the parents. Two sides of the same coin, and in the middle is a little boy, age two, whose soul shines like the sun.
You know from the first line of the story, “I've ferried two hundred and twenty-one souls across the river of death, and I can already tell my two-hundred-and-twenty-second is going to be a real shitkicker.” Mr. Death is about a reaper who gently ferries souls from their bodies to the river and the after. Sam Grayson, the reaper in question and the main protagonist of the story, is a father grieving the loss of his own son years before when he is taken by lung cancer. While waiting in the breakroom for his next assignment, He is handed a manilla envelope. Thin, to thin, with this information printed on it:
Name: Lawrence Harper
Address: 186 Grist Mill Road, Lisle NY, 13797
Time: Sunday, July 14th 2020, 2:08AM, EST
Cause: Cardiac arrest resulting from undiagnosed long QT syndrome
Age: 30 months
As a reader, his response and mine are the same, “Jesus Christ on his sacred red bicycle. He's two.” Sam visits the child, supposedly invisible, but for some reason, Lawrence can see him. Sam's heart aches in solidarity for the upcoming earth-shattering pain he will have to inflict upon these loving parents and the pain of his own loss. But all bodies will eventually die, and when it is your time, that is an unassailable fact. Or is it?
Harrow has pulled just enough of the raging thunderstorm of grief into this story to make you empathize and believe the situation. Instead of maudlin, it is heartfelt. It is a lovely read and pretty obvious why it is now nominated for a Nebula. Awards seem to stick to Harrow like magnets these days, and rightly so. Check it out.
I have read my fair share of urban fantasy, romantic, tragic, or otherwise. As a reader and reviewer, it has become a challenge for me to seek out series in that elusive “other” category, ones that straddle a line of horror and urban fantasy such as Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere and American Gods or A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness. These books are different. They excel in bringing something fresh to the reader. The Others series by Anne Bishop has brought life to the tired genre of the supernatural urban fantasy genre with her brilliant take on the relationships between humans and the Terre Indigene in Crowbones.
“Don't matter if you caw, Don't matter if you shout. Crowbones will gitcha If you don't watch out! —Crowgard rhyme”
Every culture, human or other, has a boogeyman. A creature that will come to getcha if you aren't a good kid. Bishop explores that idea in Crowbones. Vicki Devine, whom we met in book 6 of The Others series, Lake Silence, is back again as the central figure of Crowbones. Vicki, the owner of the Jumble, a resort that does some light tourism around folks wanting to interact with The Others, is hosting a gathering to celebrate Trickster Night, The Others form of Halloween. There are some funny antics and miscommunication between the humans and the terre indigene. What kind of costume is scary but not too frightening to become other.
We first meet Vickie in a previous novel, Lake Silence. In that novel, she is a woman recovering from a traumatic relationship and divorce and attempting to start a new life in a new town. I find her a compelling character, that while she is broken and worn down from hardship, Vickie manages to have inner strength. Enough that the Others understand that she is special and a cut above other humans.
“He wasn't sure what disturbed him more—that the Others were able to excavate that much dirt from either side of the road and pile it into a hill that quickly . . . or the smiley face made out of boulders that was pressed into this side of the mound.”
Each of the stories in this series of books revolves around a mystery. This one isn't an exception. Something rotten affects the terre indigene, and individuals who act as judges have come to bring sentences on humans and terre indigene alike. Office Wayne Grimshaw, Julian Farrow, and Ilya Sanguinati have to work together before judgment is cast on all of them.
The plotting and pacing are tight; it keeps you going. You know from the first few pages that this will be a mystery story. But it lacks the tropey feel of a “who done it” type story. Vickie is someone trying to keep the crows safe, and the three individuals, Wayne, Julian, and Ilya, are trying to do the same. There are certainly some bloody and violent scenes. Bishop has never shied away from the darker side of things, which works for me as a lover of horror and grimdark. Crows are picking at eyeballs, basically doing what crows do.
Crowbones is another exciting addition to the world of The Others that continues to be interesting. We learn that even the strongest and wildest predators of the terre indigene have boogeymen that go bump in the night. Check it out.
In Dead Things by Stephen Blackmoore, the lead protagonist Eric is truly a dark son-of-a-bitch.
If Dead Things is anything to go on, I would have to guess the whole series has a noir urban fantasy vibe reminiscent of Felix Castor or John Constantine. There will be obvious comparisons to Harry Dresden from The Dresden Files, but Eric is cold and ruthless, whereas Dresden is snarky. Either way, Dead Things was a gritty urban fantasy done well.
We start the story by being introduced to Eric after he is called home. His sister has been murdered, and Eric is home visiting old haunts. He is also looking for information, and the only way he can get it is by talking to the dead. Through ritual and blood, Eric speaks to the deceased. They are a swarming mass of life-sucking souls held at bay by Eric's will and attitude alone. This story does not make the paranormal world look charming. There are no hugable and misunderstood souls here. Dead Things' creatures want to tear you limb from limb and feast on the bloody bits that are left.
“Magic's like Fight Club that way. You don't talk about it. Can't have the regular folk knowing this shit's real. We might have to share.”
With the bits and pieces of information that Eric gets from the ghosts and the old friends and new enemies he meets up with along the way, Eric begins to pick apart why his sister got killed.
There is a ton of positives about this story. Firstly, Eric doesn't have a swagger. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good quip and a well-placed swagger, but it has gotten formulaic across urban fantasy. It seems like every new series I read is a clone of Harry Dresden. Not every series needs to be cheeky. Secondly, how necromancy is described hits home how dangerous and otherworldly it can be. This kind of power shouldn't be taken lightly and isn't in Dead Things. And while this is a fantasy novel, it does add a gritty realness to the story. I think fans who like their fantasy with a side of grimdark will appreciate this series.
“There's a difference. Like I'm complex, you're complicated.”
Eric is a violent person; he has no qualms about throwing down with humans or with the undead. There is a lot of violence and action scenes in the story, and they are done well. Blackmoore writes with a gritty scalpel, and he does not mince words.
Dead Things is a solid start to what looks like a dark and entertaining series for my grimdark-loving heart. I plowed through this book and can't wait to get to the second book in the series, Broken Souls.
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
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.
Rise of the Mages by first-time author Scott Drakeford is an epic fantasy story in the tradition of The Belgariad that will directly appeal to those who love the classic fantasy of that era. The story combines political machinations and a quest for vengeance with found family vibes. All of this is nestled comfortably in a fascinating magic system based on infusori. Infusori is the electromagnetic energy and soul of everything around us. Practitioners can tap into this power and harness it for anything from tinkering to crumbling walls and battle magic. It is a heady combination that starts with a bang and never lets up.
The story starts with two brothers, Emrael and Ban. Two young men who are nationless refugees of a now-defunct royal bloodline. Emrael is working to keep his brother in materials used for tinkering and to further his crafting skill with infusori. At the same time, Emrael is learning daily to become a master warrior and political commander at training school. This training will allow the brothers to make something of themselves, and they would no longer have to rely on their mother for Ban's support. No matter the two brothers' work, they are constantly regarded as lesser by their peers, save for Ban's best friend, Elle.
Due to the political intrigues of the existing nations and the church's influence, Governor Corrande, the governor of the state that Emrael's school is located in, brokers a deal with the church to enslave users of infusori to build machines that will give him an edge in an upcoming war for territory. Corrande is setting himself up to consolidate the existing domains under his authority. Emrael and Ban, due both to their ability to use infusori and their political connections, get stuck in the middle of this war.
The crux of the story happens when Emrael and Ban attempt to flee the Citadel, the school they train at, and Ban is captured. Elle, Ban's teacher, and Emrael's master and trainer Jaina barely escape with their lives. The extremely close brothers are separated by the direst of circumstances. This separation sets Emrael on a quest for revenge on those who captured and enslaved Ban, and Emrael will burn the world to ashes before abandoning his brother.
There is a strong power in this familial bond between the brothers, especially in Emrael and how he relates to Ban. Ban is the younger brother, and while competent and a man in his own right, Emrael takes care of him as an older brother should. This helps drive the narrative of why Emrael will stop at nothing to save his brother. I think had the reverse happened; Ban would do the same. Although due to the story's structure, we learn and get to know Emrael a lot more than we do Ban. I am hoping in the second and third parts of this trilogy, we will get to know Ban a lot more and learn what drives him.
In Rise of the Mages, behind the story of Emrael and his quest to become a warrior or Ban's quest to learn to tinker and create are strong female characters. In the periphery, but no less important is the boy's mother, who is more than she claims. But at this junction, we only know fragments and pieces of her story.
Jaina, Emrael's master, is a warrior and one of the best fighters that the world has ever seen. Instead of slipping into convention, Drakeford gives her added depth by making her devoutly religious to the Ordenan religion. It is a beautiful contrast that she is not all hard planes but a soul beyond fierce battle. And finally, we have Ban's best friend Elle, who is powerful also but very different from the brothers. While the narrative is always about Emrael, I couldn't help but wonder about Elle in the backdrop of his extraordinary quest. Elle is in the background experiencing moments that bifurcate her life into the before and after. She is not the same character at the end that started the story.
I am thoroughly impressed by this story. I know that this story took ten years to craft and was a labor of love for all involved. With its rounded characters and exciting action sequences, you can tell this will have a gigantic appeal to lovers of classic fantasy stories. Author Scott Drakeford just stepped into the publishing world of SFF and slammed his ax down.
I am very much looking forward to the next book, so I may dive back into the world of Ire and watch the brothers come into their power.
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.
A Little Free Library by Naomi Kritzer is a beautiful short story that reminds readers that magic can be found in anything. As a reader, I know the magic and power of the written word. Books have power, whether it is to escape, learn, or become enthralled.
And one of the best things a reader can do is share their love for specific books with new readers freely—no strings attached, which is why Little Free Libraries are such a cool concept. You get a kit, a box, a refrigerator... anything that can keep the books out of the rain, and you fill it with your past reads and share it with your community, take a book, leave a book. You have no idea what you will get.
In this story, the narrator and owner of the Little Free Library lovingly builds a box for her front yard and fills it full of her favorites. A little Belgariad, some Lord of the Rings, top it off with some Terry Pratchett.
What does she get back? A little magic, and mystery of course.
This story made me smile so much. We readers are always looking for the bits of magic in the real world because the real world can be so dull. This story shows that it can pop up in the most wondrous of places.
The Psalm for the Wild Built is a joy to read. There is no great antagonist to the battle except for your nagging inner voice, and only hope guides your journey through the lands.
“You're an animal, Sibling Dex. You are not separate or other. You're an animal. And animals have no purpose. Nothing has a purpose. The world simply is. If you want to do things that are meaningful to others, fine! Good! So do I! But if I wanted to crawl into a cave and watch stalagmites with Frostfrog for the remainder of my days, that would also be both fine and good. You keep asking why your work is not enough, and I don't know how to answer that, because it is enough to exist in the world and marvel at it. You don't need to justify that, or earn it. You are allowed to just live. That is all most animals do.”
Hope is a pervasive emotion; if you let it, hope can seep into every crevice and neuron in your body. It gives you the belief that more can come and there are better days ahead. That is what Monk and Robot show with every step and roll of the tea cart, there is a low chanting sound that follows them as they travel singing “Hope. Hope. Hope.”
The story follows Sibing Dex and Splendid Speckled Mosscap. Dex is a tea monk. A traveling monk and a cart full of herbs and spices moving from town to town, healing the sick with their spicey creations and leaving comfort in their wake. As a character, Sibling Dex is battling the old thought of “am I doing what I should be doing.” and “Why aren't I happy.” I think that many readers will empathize with his thoughts and struggles, myself included. Happiness can sometimes feel like a slippery emotion; you grasp it and hold on, yet somehow it wriggles out of your hands and flies away.
“You keep asking why your work is not enough, and I don't know how to answer that, because it is enough to exist in the world and marvel at it. You don't need to justify that, or earn it. You are allowed to just live.”
Splendid Speckled Mosscap is a wonderfully depicted robot who meets up with Sibling Dex while walking the roads between camps. There is an honesty in Mosscap's character and a refreshing uncluttered view of what is essential in life and why.
Mosscap is the first robot to meet up with a human in centuries. This story has flavors of the “first contact” motif. Apparently, in this future world, when humans discover that the robots gained sentience, they let them go to be free people out in the world. There were no battles and bloody betrayal. No Arnold Schwarzenegger saying, “i'll be back.” The humans realized that the robots were people. This is such a wonderful hopepunk idea. Humans do what is ethically and morally right with no monetary compensation or power struggle. Humans are proper and sound, and to this reviewer, who reads 90% of grimdark novels, it was quite the change.
I do not want to spoil anything in this “warm cup of tea on a raining morning” book. The pair talked about philosophy and mindset that hit me hard. And I think readers will love it. A psalm of the Wild Built is lovely, the characters are beautiful people trying their best, and I can't wait to read more of their adventures.
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.
Risen is a shattering final book of the Alex Versus series by Benedict Jacka; we say goodbye to the titular character Alex. It is all done. Finito. Endings can be difficult; it is hard to wrap up all the emotion and gravitas of a series, especially one as large as the Alex Verus one with a neat bow. Instead of allowing the series to pitter out like a band still on stage when patrons are getting their bags and heading home, Jacka finished the series with a thundering crash of an orchestra in its final song for the night. It was perfectly timed and perfectly executed, and a conscious choice by Jacka that this book and this plot arc is the right time to finish. Jacka did a great job, and I am left with a fondness for the series.
It took us 12 books to get to this point, and unlike other stories in the Alex Verus series, you can't start at book 12, Risen. You won't get the gravitas of what is going on and the combined struggles Alex has faced. Jacka does his best to give context to the situation that Verus finds himself in. But even with some backstory, it will read like an excited but superficial action fantasy novel. Instead, Risen feels like a story written as a nod for the fans and everything Verus has gone through and lost.
Alex Verus is an unlikely hero on many fronts. Firstly, up until recently, he was not a hugely powerful mage. Verus has always been cunning and strategic in planning because of necessity. He was scrappy, the runt puppy of the Mage world. Often his fights were akin to someone attacking with a pea shooter instead of a Nuke. You can do a lot of damage with a pea shooter if you get someone right in the eye, which was Alex's modus operandi. It took him far in the mage world, but Verus was always lacking true power.
That is, until the last few books, where the tides began to turn. But there is always a price to pay for power.
One of the most positive aspects of the story is how Alex has grown and nurtured his relationships with his allies. As I mentioned above this is essential for Alex's survival, but I think this is more so because of his highly protective nature. It is the epitome of a found family. If Alex chooses you and trusts you, he will likely care about you his entire life, and possibly burn the world down to save you. With all the magical and political machinations going on in the background, his relationships take center stage and are the beating heart of the Alex Verus series.
Verus also has a distinctive duality in his nature, which was evident as the series progressed but doubly true for the last book. He can be intensely pragmatic and ruthless, in essence, a dark mage. The very thing he spent most of his adult life running from. He is capable of very dark things, which many dark mages attempted to exploit for their gain. Especially, the longstanding villain of the story Richard Drakh. The morally ambiguous nature of Jacka's hefty cast of characters seems much more realistic and practical than the perfect “good guy/bad guy” characters that many other urban fantasy series employ.
So, who is Alex Verus and why should you read this series? Alex is a complex character set in difficult situations that never jump the proverbial shark. The series has grey characters that have an authenticity that is appealing and grabs you. And those characters have psychological issues that again, add to the realism of the series. The ever-evolving plot is great, you continually want to know more. And now that it is a finished story, you can binge-read it. There is so much good, which is why I have loved and read this series for years.
It was bittersweet to see it go, but it was time. Jacka did Alex Verus justice and I was thrilled with the ending. I would highly recommend it to anyone looking for a great urban fantasy series to binge read. You won't be able to put it down.
“I'm dead,” he said. “There's no going back from that. A river only moves in one direction.”
TJ Klune's books have become a place where my heart can get a zap like a defibrillator pedal. Both Under a Whispering Door and Under the Cerulean Sea tread the line between sentimental and sweet, but Klune is such a skilled writer that I never drift to the wrong side of that line.
Instead, after I get done with his books, and for this review, I will be talking about the newly released Under the Whispering Door; I feel good about myself and good about the world. I hope that somewhere in the vastness of this universe, there are true stories like what you find in these books. In the infinite, anything is possible. But until I discover and am witness to real-life stories that are as sweet as these, I will have to go back and read Under the Whispering Door again and again.
Wallace whispered, “It's easy to let yourself spiral and fall.”
“It is,” Nelson agreed. “But it's what you do to pull yourself out of it that matters most.”
The book follows Wallace Price Esq. A big-time lawyer and partner in a law firm. He is everything a someone who does not practice law expects lawyers to act. In that vein, Wallace is an immediately identifiable character, not one you can sympathize with, but absolutely one you understand. He is cold, calculating, ruthless, and utterly devoid of the ability to empathize.
These characteristics served him well. He is smartly dressed and expects the same of those around him. He is crushingly fastidious and again expects this of others. Any infraction on this is met with cold civility and a pink check. In other words, he is hated by his employees, has no friends, and his contemporaries are either terrified of him or believe him to be a cretin.
Then he dies. Alone. This starts the actual journey.
He wakes up from death at his funeral. There was no gnashing of teeth and wailing to the Heavens. Quite the contrary. “He was a real bastard.” Everyone is ignoring him; no one can see him. He is dead, so it makes sense except for one woman. She keeps staring in his general direction. She introduces herself, her name is Mei, and she is a reaper. She has come to take Wallace onwards.
She takes him to a place, a shabby chic little tea house in the middle of the forest. A place that Wallace would never have visited in his life but is now staying at in his death. Mei introduces Wallace to Hugo, the ferryman. Hugo's job is to help Wallace get used to the idea that he is dead before he steps through the final door. A door where Wallace hear's whispers coming from underneath it.
The writing is lovely. Klune writes in a minimalistic style; he gets the ideas across in prose that is not overly embellished or wordy but still packs an emotional punch. “Because you're you, and that's who you're supposed to be.” It is also hilarious, and there is one scene involving an ouija board that had me in tears.
Klune is so good, and his books keep having me come back for more because of the relationships he forges. There are many types of love in this life, or death as it were. There is familial love. The love of found family. The love of a dog. And the love between lovers. Klune explores them all. Because what can teach someone most about life more than love? Love spans the gamut from Blisteringly painful to joyous, and Wallace needs to learn to be a person.
Under the Whispering Door is a joyous book, a little slow at first, but things start to get rolling about midway, and I finished it all in one afternoon. It has passion, love, pain, and all the beautiful things life has to offer if you can recognize it and appreciate it. Thank you, TJ Klune, for another lovely book. I won't be forgetting Wallace's journey anytime soon.
Yellow Jessamine by Caitlin Starling started incredibly strong but pittered out and ending with a whimper.
Evelyn Perdanu is a shipping magnate, the only living survivor of her family. She walks the city veiled and hidden away from the eyes of those around her. Her country is slowly dying, rotting away like food left out to spoil. Arriving from her last voyage out, she discovers that a plague has visited her city, and it is traced back to her crew. They act erratically and slip into catatonia. She begins to investigate the plague as much for the city's sake and those in it as for her own company and family name. What she finds is complicated and horrific.
Also highly confusing to me as a reader.
This story started beautifully. It was atmospheric and enchanting. We learn little bits of the background of Evelyn's life; we know a bit about the relationship she has with her assistant. We realize that Evelyn is a master herbalist, and she has used her herbal concoctions all over town, both for good and evil. This fantastic backstory for Evelyn gave me a solid foundation to picture her character in my mind.
This all takes place in the first act of the story.
When we start the second act, additional ideas and characters are added to the mix; the police captain, for instance. It gets confusing, and I was not sure of the importance of things. Should I, as a reader, be concerned by the Police Captain sniffing around? Or with the plague? Or with Evelyn's business interests?
By the third act, the story gets a bit stranger and still very confusing, and it just ends. I don't want to give it away, as the ending is very out of the left field.
Conceptually, this is a remarkable book. Starling absolutely knows how to work words into magic in the mind of the reader. During the story's first half, my mind's eye was covered in yellow smoke, twisted and thorny vines, and a woman sitting amongst it all veiled in black lace. It lost me in the second and third acts. The atmospheric description was constant, though, and that is why I finished the story.
Let me introduce you to one of my favorite series from last year, the Adam Binder series. Who author David Slaton has released a new book for 2021, Trailer Park Trickster.
In the first novel of the series, White Trash Warlock, we are introduced to the titular character Adam Binder. Adam is a sensitive, one who is aware of the other side of things. The existence of magic, elves, and evils that come from that side of the coin. This sensitivity rules his life, and he tries to work around it, but he is often overwhelmed by the energies and feelings of masses of people.
“Adam Binder hasn't spoken to his brother in years, not since Bobby had him committed to a psych ward for hearing voices.”
White Trash Warlock by David R. Slayton
His brother has him committed to a facility, mainly in a misguided attempt to help him, but also because the things that adam believes are scary and might be true. This obviously causes a strain on the relationship between the brothers. Something dark and murderous possesses Bobby's wife, Adam comes to Colorado from rural Oklahoma to see if he can help. Despite the divide between his family and him and the way he is treated. This dark thing that is infecting people in the city is a power unlike anything Adam has ever seen, and to survive, he must call on energies above his paygrade. Plus, there is a great love triangle and banter with immortals of all sorts. It is an engaging urban fantasy that has some comfortable tropes that you find in urban fantasy, but author David Slayton has a way of making things seem very fresh.
All of this takes us right to the sequel, Trailer Park Trickster. Adam is reunited with his family after much pain and turmoil. All are completely changed from the events in the first book, but none more so than Adam's brother, Bobby. The story picks up with Adam returning home to Guthrie, Oklahoma. He has suffered a significant loss that has set him adrift.
This brings me to what I think is the central theme of this story, being lost and untethered. Both Adam and Vic have had some great upheavals in their lives. Adam is trying to find what to do after his great loss, and Vic is trying to make sense of his new life and connection to Adam. It doesn't help that Adam is a terrible communicator, which leaves Vic even more in the dark.
“Just remember, it's always darkest right before it goes pitch black.”
Also, to make things more confusing for Adam, Trailer Park Trickster's antagonist is a dark druid whose identity is one of the great mysteries to be solved. The druid is picking off Adam's family members one by one. Adam does not have many family members, and those he does have he holds dear for the most part. This allowed Slayton to fill in some essential backstory elements that enriched Adam's history. I loved learning about his world, painful as it is. It rounded out Adam even more for me as a protagonist.
While Adam is dealing with his part of the story and the dark druid, Vic has a challenging time with Argent, the Queen of swords. I like Argent as a character, but this section did feel a bit flat to me. It might be because I enjoy Argent and Vic together as a team, and separated didn't give me the same bang. Their relationship was a wonderful part of the first book, and I look forward to exploring their complicated story in future books.
The Adam Binder series is fast shaping up to be one of my favorite urban fantasy series. Adam's story has a lot of heart. You wouldn't think of him as a leading man-type character you find in famous urban fantasy series. Dresden, as much as I love you, I am looking at you. Adam isn't snarky, and he doesn't need to be. He is heartfelt, and I respect and want to learn more about his determination and quiet resilience.
Last year, when Pearl dropped, I had been on a quest to read as many Josh Malerman books as possible. There is a sharp edge to the horror he creates, an assault on the reader's psyche that may or may not be too far. Malerman has a deft understanding of what makes some readers climb the walls and tear at their hair in dismay. Opening one of his books is thrilling and slightly terrifying because you never know which part of your abused mind he will assault.
Then he created Pearl.
“GO TO THE FARM JUST OUTSIDE OF TOWN AND YOU'LL HEAR IT.
A VOICE. INSIDE YOUR HEAD.
OR IS IT?
COME TO ME...
Pearl never minced on the edges of horror; this is Malerman stretching his metaphorical razor-tipped claws and sinking them into your unsuspecting brain. Pearl is the stuff of childhood nightmares.
Pearl is a pig; if you know anything about pigs, know they are crazy intelligent, massive in size, and will eat anything. They tick all the “other” boxes compared to humans. Pearl is also a pig with only one good eye, but this psychotic pig sees everything. And Pearl uses his mind to wreak havoc and control everything.
Pearl by Josh Malerman is gory and psychotic. It touches on that part of the primal brain that hides in the corner, quivers from things bigger and worse than you, and is up to no good. The pig is a wonder of creation, so subtle, Malerman's prose is unadorned, but explains just enough to allow the author's imagination to take over.
If you read this story, and I wholeheartedly believe you should, you are going to go through some shit—because Pearl is going to get you.
5 out of 5 gore smeared stars
Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki is a collection of discordant elements: California's San Gabriel Valley, cursed violins, Faustian bargains, and queer alien courtship with a deep love and fascination for fresh-made donuts. However, instead of Light From Uncommon Stars feeling overly jangly like a tin can full of pennies...this book comes together like a bit of sugar-dusted magic.
The premise involves three women, Shizuka Satomi, Katrina Nguyen, and Lan Tran. All are women running from something and grasping for something that will, in the most literal sense, save them.
Shizuka, long ago, made a deal with the devil. To escape damnation, she must entice seven other violin prodigies to trade their souls for success. She has already delivered six. Enter Katrina, a young transgender runaway that catches Shizuka's ear with her wild talent; Shizuka can almost feel the curse lifting. She's found her final candidate.
But where does a donut shop fit into all of this?
“Shizuka meets Lan Tran, retired starship captain, interstellar refugee, and mother of four. Shizuka doesn't have time for crushes or coffee dates, what with her very soul on the line, but Lan's kind smile and eyes like stars might just redefine a soul's worth. And maybe something as small as a warm donut is powerful enough to break a curse as vast as the California coastline.”
“As the lives of these three women become entangled by chance and fate, a story of magic, identity, curses, and hope begins, and a family worth crossing the universe for is found.”
The first thing you notice when reading this story is that humanity is laid bare. The good, the bad, and the deplorable are brought into the light for all to see. Maybe it is because it involves Faustian bargains. Ultimately, who you are will shine through because it has to. The music and the devil know what is in your heart. I think that is why one of the main characters is transgender. Aside from the beautiful queer representation, they are being their most authentic self. Who they really are, is brought out to the forefront in a very emotional and unflinchingly raw way.
And I am here for it.
The book also touches on the importance of the concept of a found family. Who we are born to is not necessarily whom we end up with as our nearest and dearest. Sometimes, our family is a bunch of alien space refugees running from a galactic war who run a donut shop.
Light from Uncommon Stars is also a sensual experience. Music and food can be luscious and evocative of memories of bygone times. Aoki uses them as mute characters. When speaking of music, “What would happen if someone played their existence not only to its inevitable end, but also to its inevitable beginning? What if someone played their music to its inevitable everything?” Or, when talking about bread, “A good bread tastes like home.”
My only caveat to this lovely story is a point brought up by the amazing reviewer Gautam Bhatia: this story is heavily steeped in American culture. This might make this story difficult to connect to if you are unaware of some of the minutiae of American culture.
If you have an opportunity to read this book, you should. It is an entertaining, heartwarming experience that speaks to the heart of what makes us both human and who we are inside. It takes absolute courage to be your most authentic self, and these three female protagonists, each on their own path, show that courage in different ways.
As someone who grew up with a massive love for Harry Potter but is now turned off by the saccharin sweetness of that series, The Last Graduate, book 2 of The Scholomance series is a perfect reminder that it is much more fun to play in the dark, snarky side of things.
The first book, A Deadly Education, introduces us to Galadriel (I do not know of a more perfect name for a character), a young student starting her junior year at a wizarding academy called Scholomance. The survival rate for Scholomance is around 50%. You do not fail out; you are blown to bits, eaten, have your skin flayed off in strips, have your soul sucked out, or suffer psychological damage. To graduate, you must run the gauntlet through an obstacle course of creatures from hell all bent on devouring your mind, body, and soul.
“the same kind of calm as going through a crying jag and coming out the other side, where you know nothing's changed and it's all still horrible but you can't cry forever, so there's nothing to do but go on.”
There are no fundamental protections, except for those you make yourself. The food is terrible and often poisonous and full of larva, the surroundings are terrifying, plus you still have to deal with teenage drama and hormones. Thankfully most of which is tamped down in favor of not becoming something's dinner. Plus, the children do not leave Scholomance for four years and have limited resources; it is full of political intrigues and a course load that would break the best minds. It is a type of violence that hits you on all sides.
The Scholomance series is not a dark veneer painted over an otherwise sweet and endearing coming-of-age story. No, this is just dark, bloody, and cruel. The good don't win at Scholomance, mater a fact who gives a damn about good and evil. Just live in any way you can. Beg Barter and steel, and maybe you will see sunlight again. But then, maybe not.
“They were already vulnerable, so when they looked at me they were rabbits looking at a wolf - a half-starved wolf who sometimes snapped even at the hand that fed her because it also kept her on a leash.”
In the first book we are introduced to Galadriel, who has the bonus of being extremely unlikeable, naturally. She is much like her namesake, immensely powerful, and naturally stands on a precipice between good and evil. Her power and nature pull her towards the dark; she could flatten entire cities and become a dark queen, and all would despair before her.
“And now at last it comes. You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
But Galadriel, or El as she likes to be called, doesn't want that and never has. This dark pulling is balanced against the lessons from her mother, who is the antithesis of a dark queen, a healer who freely gives her healing for free to all. Much of the book is El waring with the desires of Scholomance to turn El into the dark queen of destruction that she has inside.
The worldbuilding of The Scholomance is mainly flashbacks of moments out in the real world and the terrifying and otherworldly creation of the school itself. It lives outside of reality in a void between worlds. The entire school is vicious, but the whole point is to protect students from demons that want to consume their inner mana. It does a mediocre job, so wizards must accept that half of their children will not make it out of puberty into adulthood without being eaten.
All of this floundering under a Damocles is what any of the students can hope for until El has an idea... “El realizes that sometimes winning the game means throwing out all the rules...”
This series has a lot of danger and a lot of heart. But unlike the first book, where we are introduced to El and the rules of Scholomance, here we are familiar with how everything works. It is exciting how we slowly see El take apart everything; who needs rules? And come into her power, both physical and of personality. She starts to believe that she can change everything.
I plowed through this book. Every chapter kept me flowing through the pages. Novik has done a lot of stellar series, and she knows how to keep her readers hooked in. I won't tell you what happens to El and her found family. Especially Orion, who we meet in the first novel, swings wildly in the other direction for power. That would ruin everything, but wow, is it exciting. And that ending...
I am giving this my highest rating. It is mind-blowing and fantastic. It ended, and I went clamoring for more. Thank god there is another book planned. If you are a fan of dark fantasy, then you will dig it.
A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik, lesson one: block off a large block of time when starting this series because you will not want to put it down. Damn, getting sleep and bathing, hell, even food is optional. This book is excellent will grasp you around the neck and hold you tight.
“READER, I RAN the fuck away.”
First off, let me set the scene. The first book of the trilogy, A Deadly Education, introduces us to our protagonist Galadriel and the school called Scholomance. Galadriel's character reminds me of if I took Harry Potter and made the exact opposite of him in every way. If I constantly put him in dangerous situations, and Hogwarts was continually trying to feed him to fluffy the three-headed dog, it would be Galadriel. The only similarity between them is at both of their cores; they have good hearts. But in Galadriel's case, her heart is slightly darker and has terrifying magic and great snark armor.
Scholomance is the wizarding school that Galadriel goes to. The survival rate for Scholomance is around 50%. You do not fail out; you are blown to bits, eaten, have your skin flayed off in strips, or suffer irreparable psychological damage. To graduate, you must run the gauntlet through an obstacle course of creatures from hell all bent on devouring your mind, body, and soul. Surviving Scholomance is just as much about luck and social station as it is skill.
“I love having existential crises at bedtime, it's so restful.”
Imagine being a kid; maybe you are a bit shy or gawky. Perhaps you come from humble beginnings. Now imagine that your ability to survive Scholomance is almost certainly on your family's wealth or your power to be a suck-up. If you aren't good enough at it, you will probably get eaten by the demons that roam the sacred halls. In Galadriel's case, everyone hates her or is unnerved by her. They know something is off, dark queen vibes. What they don't know is that Galadriel has an immense amount of power. The kind that flattens cities and makes people slaves. Except that all she wants to be is left alone and not hurt anyone. How does she survive her junior year without hurting anyone and not being eaten alive by the evils that roam the halls?
It has been a long time since I read something as engaging as this story. I adored El, her snark, and her heart. She wants people to leave her alone, and short of yelling at them to “get off my lawn,” people won't leave her be. And things keep getting more complicated. There is a boy who is a confusion to her. People start gravitating towards her and maybe want to be friends. What is this friend nonsense?
Novik did an excellent job in crafting the characters and the school. You want to know them; there is enough teenageness to believe they are young adults grappling with hormones and who they are. But enough realism that they understand that the school and the demon-like creatures will eat them.
Pick up this book and get sucked in.