Sean
I've read every book that Lincoln & Child have done together, and this one was probably one of my favorites. Often in the Pendergast series, they have a tendency to get bogged down with Pendergast's wealth, his relationship to Constance, and Pendergast's own misanthropy. With ‘Verses for the Dead,' they returned to a more standard serial killer mystery and introduced two characters I hope they bring back: Dr. Fauchet and Armstrong Coldmoon.
With giving Pendergast a partner who was his opposite in nearly every way (Coldmoon is Lakota, from the Rez, poor, with simple tastes, and was more by-the-book), it only served to enhance Pendergast's character in ways that even his pairings with D'Agosta did not highlight. SA Coldmoon was an interesting character in and of himself. I could stand to see him brought back for more adventures in the future.
There were no major revelations about Pendergast's family. No major twists or turns. This book really did not add to the overall story of Pendergast's world. It's a good stand-alone, much like ‘Still Life with Crows' was. Because of this, it was a refreshing revelation, especially since the last few books had been a little heavy and plodding with that sort of history.
I could definitely stand to see them to a few more Pendergast books like this one. Get back to the simple art of chasing down serial killers, fellas. It makes for better books.
I've always said that as a writer, you can only write the book you, yourself, want to read, and then you can only hope that others will want to read it as well. That's the advice I always give to students I teach, that's what I tell people when I do presentations–the rest is just details. Sebastien de Castell not only writes books that I want to read, but he writes the books that I wish I'd written. Something about his style of storytelling, his characters, his plots, his level of detail–it synchs up perfectly with what I feel makes a great story. I can given him no higher praise than that. Since I first discovered his debut “The Traitor's Blade”–the first book in his Greatcoats quartet–he has been in my pantheon of my favorite writers.
I'm a little depressed by this book, because I know that Kellen Argos only has one more go-round before this series ends. It's a great YA series, but the stories are not dumbed down at all. They fit with adult sensibilities and the characters are easily reachable by adults, despite their youth. In many ways, Kellen is the guy I wanted to be as a teenager–hell, he's kind of the guy I wish I could be now. It has been a pleasure to witness his journey over the four books in this series so far, and I look forward to the fifth book–even if it is the final in the series.
When people ask me for recommendations, de Castell is always on the tip of my tongue. Right up there with Rafael Sabatini and Alexandre Dumas. Dude's good. Flat-out good.
Man, I really hoped this would be better than it was. It was fine, don't get me wrong–but for more than a decade, I've been hoping for official Firefly novels. I don't know if anything could have lived up to what I wanted them to be.
This was a fine novelization. Decent story. Good interactions with the original crew. It just did not live up to the easy-going back-and-forth of the show. I look forward to future trips around this world, though. I'm already looking forward to the next novel.
Nick Petrie writes a good book. In the same vein as Lee Child and Brad Thor's high-octane adventures, the Peter Ash follows a similar formula but has a bit more of a literary feel to them. There is some artful wordplay and some interesting character development.
Good series. I'm looking forward to the next book, “Light It Up.”
They build ‘em different in Wyoming. For the last decade and change, Craig Johnson has been constructing a modern day superhero in his lead character, Walt Longmire. Part philosopher, part throwback to the old cowboy heroes, and part Timex watch, ol' Walt takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin' while tossing out the occasional one-liner and playing fast and loose with the number of times a square-jawed ex-Marine on the verge of qualifying for a AARP card can take a punch.
In his newest romp, DEPTH OF WINTER, Walt has left the familiar and relatively safe confines of Absaroka County, Wyoming, to head south of the border to rescue his daughter, Cady, from the hands of the nigh-unkillable cartel head, Tomas Bidarte. Walt and Bidarte had tangled in previous books, but Tomas has crossed and uncrossable line by going after Cady, and it's time for the wily sheriff to finish the war.
Walt crosses the border and goes after a well-armed cartel with little more than an Ambrose Bierce biography in his pocket, hooking up with a collection of roughnecks and oddballs worthy of Absaroka County to aid him in his fight. However, waltzing into the middle of the Chihuahuan desert and saving Cady ain't gonna be easy.
But, as Longmire's very name would suggest: It never is.
I've been following Johnson's novels since 2007. THE COLD DISH, the first one, came out in 2004. I've enjoyed all his books. Even the worst Longmire novel is better than many writers' best novel. Every year, I look forward to another tale of Walt's exploits. As usual, Craig delivers the goods. This go-round is a high-octane, long-odds, search-and-rescue adventure with literary nods to the aforementioned Bierce, Hemingway, and Miguel de Cervantes.
Like Cervantes' most famous character, Longmire finds himself tilting at windmills and trying to retain some semblance of chivalry in a lawless land against lawless people. At times, his good nature and unwillingness to pull a trigger on men who truly deserve to die gets frustrating in that same way that you want to yell at Donald Pleasence for revealing his world domination plans to James Bond before setting the death trap in motion and leaving the room–JUST KILL ‘EM ALREADY, WALT!–but, it's that goodness and unwillingness to kill that makes Walt who he is, and makes us keep rooting for him. Never change, Sheriff. Never change.
Every year, I run out and get the newest Longmire book as soon as it's released. It's one of the few books that I will actually purchase as a hardcover (because I'm cheap). Every year, I tear through it as quickly as I can because I want to know what torture the poor sheriff is going to have to endure. And every year, when the adventure is done, I feel sad because I have to wait a full year for another trip with ol' Walt. DEPTH OF WINTER, while taking place in the relentless heat of a Mexican desert, delivers on the chills.
I'd like to think that I'd have the fortitude to walk smiling into a compound of men who think nothing of peeling off someone's face and stitching the skin-mask to a soccer ball, and come out on the other side, but let's be honest: I'll leave a restaurant if I have to wait for a table. I don't do adversity. I guess that's why I have such admiration for Walt Longmire. He does nothing but adversity.
They build ‘em different in Wyoming.
This book is a perfect example of how traditional publishing misses great books. This book, an indie title published through Black Rose Writing, is easily the best book I've read this year.
Parker Westfall is a career minor-leaguer. He's never made The Show. For more than a decade, he's been grinding out a career playing baseball in podunk towns for podunk teams, and those playing days are coming to a close. He's given one last chance for a season in the sun playing first base for the Fort Collins Miners, an independent baseball team. If there's one step below the minor leagues, it's independent baseball. With no other options, Westfall signs on. When he gets there, the team owner asks Westfall for a special favor—mentor a young pitcher who throws a helluva knuckeball.
Oh, yeah—that pitcher is a woman.
The signing of Courtney Morgan could be just a publicity stunt, and the book could have turned into a trite, damsel-in-distress novel, but it doesn't. Parker and Morgan don't fall in love. Parker isn't the white knight who teaches her the game, but rather a coach who helps her find her own way to play.
The book is a sweet paean to baseball, the unsung heroes who never get to be on baseball cards or interviewed on ESPN, and the tiny towns that keep the spirit of real baseball alive. As a baseball fan, and as a fan of good writing, this book falls into place at the top of my reading list (so far) for 2018. It's one of those books that probably should have gotten more looks from agents or publishers. It's one of those books that should get more readers than it's ever going to get.
But, like the minor leaguers this story encompasses, sometimes what you get in the end is just good enough. I loved this book. I can't recommend it enough.
SMOKE EATERS by Sean Grigsby
George Carlin once said “It takes a genius to point out the obvious.” In Sean Grigsby's debut novel, SMOKE EATERS, instead of the tired trope of using knights and warriors to battle a scaly menace, he has firefighters fighting dragons and ghosts (yes, I said dragons AND ghosts–it's pretty awesome). He might not be the first one to try that combo, but his execution of this concept is pretty genius, and it's a brilliant ride.
The main character, Brannigan, is on his way out of the job, a job that's only gotten harder since E-Day, the day the dragons emerged from underground. He's fought fires for thirty years, and it's time to retire, to settle down. However, just days before his retirement, Brannigan finds out he's a Smoke Eater, nearly immune to smoke and heat. From there, he gets tossed into the Smoker Eaters brigade, a sort of futuristic, power-suited, balls-to-the-wall brand of firefighters whose job is to kill dragons and defend people from wraiths, the ghosts of those killed by dragonfire.
If all that wasn't enough, there's something fishy about the goings-on of the higher-ups in the administration of Parthenon City, and Brannigan has to content with real dragons, as well as the dragons of a corrupt bureaucracy.
The prose is slick and easy. The dialogue sounds crisp and real. And, thanks to Grigsby's background as a firefighter, the technical aspects of the book feel very real, even if they're done in an over-the-top, worthy-of-an-action-movie-starring-The Rock-sort of way.
SMOKE EATERS, in many ways, is an homage to Scalzi's OLD MAN'S WAR (at one point in the book, Brannigan even reads that book). It's a worthy tribute because the head nods to Scalzi are not subtle, but at the same time, SMOKE EATERS blazes its own glorious path. Definitely worth checking out.
Despite the fact that Mary Roach prefaces the book by telling you that you won't be finding any answers to the great mysteries of life in this book, I read it with the hope that I would. As promised, I did not get any profound answers, but I did enjoy myself for a little while.
Roach writes with good-humored prose and tackles the weirdness that is the search for life after death with good spirit (forgive the pun). The experiments she participates in were fun to read about, and the history lessons she provides were interesting.
I had hoped for something more, though. The book feels like it only scratched the surface. It didn't deliver any big punches, just little set-up taps. Usually, when I finish a book I like, I'm driven to grab up other books by that author and tear through them. When I finished Spook, I closed it, returned it to the library from which I'd borrowed it, and had zero desire to pick up any of her other books. That's no knock against Roach's writing or the subject matters, mind you. I enjoyed this book very much, but it's just not something that compels me to her other work.
A solid debut.
This is the type of book I love: A young hero-in-the-making, still in his apprenticeship, a mysterious, talent master to oversee him, and a dark political mystery with an assassin lurking in the shadows.
I enjoy this sort of story more than just about any other. RJ Barker tells a good tale, and Girton Club-Foot is a worthy hero.
I jumped on the sequel immediately after finishing this one.
4.5 stars.
I picked up a copy of this book at Mystery to Me a couple of weeks ago figuring it would be what the back cover promised: a simple mystery set in the 50s, a throwback to a simpler time. It was exactly what the back cover copy promised.
Set in the fictional, south-of-LaCrosse, Mississippi River-based town of Wahissa, Wisconsin, 17-year-old Jake spends the most memorable summer of his life playing baseball, working in a diner, and solving the mystery behind a string of brutal beatings.
Told in a charming, simple prose style that really felt like a 1950s story, the mystery unfolds slowly, filtered through the 17 year old memories of baseball and working at the diner. At times, I wondered if White meant to write a baseball story instead of a mystery, but I realized that when you examine that summer through the eyes of a kid, the baseball is going to be every bit as important as the mystery.
I enjoyed the book very much. It was wholesome and easy-going. White was a pastor for many years, so there is some religion in it, but it's not preachy. The town is very vibrant, made so through the cast of characters Whites illustrates. He makes some unique sentence choices, constructions that someone with more training in modern prose probably wouldn't make, but it does not detract from the story. There are some editorial choices that could have trimmed the book down by 20 or 30 pages, too. Overall, it does not make the book “lesser.”
It's definitely worth a trip down memory lane with this book. Enjoyable and lovely.
OLD MAN'S WAR is a book that was recommended to me by a friend ages ago. I downloaded a copy on my Kindle and promptly forgot about it for a year or two because my to-be-read pile is an ever-growing beast that threatens to avalanche nightly and kill me in my sleep. When I finally got around to reading it, I was immediately kicking myself for not starting it when I originally bought it. OLD MAN'S WAR is the type of sci-fi war novel that I love to read.
The premise is simple enough: Far in the future, the elderly are given a chance to be declared “dead” on Earth on their 75th birthday, and then shuttled off into the vast reaches of colonized space to fight as soldiers for the Colonial Defense Force. In exchange for their service as soldiers, they are basically gifted a “second life.” Their consciousness is transferred into a genetically modified and enhanced clone version of themselves and they go off to fight the many races of intelligent species on the edge of civilized space to gain new colonies for humankind and defend the settlers that are already tilling exo-soil. We follow John Perry, a widower still very much grieving his ex-wife, as he signs up for the CDF and goes to war.
OLD MAN'S WAR has had plenty of praise heaped upon it already. It won a pile of book awards and was extended into a series (the second of which, THE GHOST BRIGADES, I have already downloaded). I won't be able to add anything new to the already existing, glowing reviews except to say that I found the book intelligent, interesting, and well-written.
Scalzi's prose is simple and direct. He doesn't over-flower things. When I wrote AFTER EVERYONE DIED, I attempted to capture a similar voice. Both books are written in the first-person in a journal-like style. Scalzi is a better writer than I am, though. Though the books are simple in style and writing, they are complex in thought and idea. The first book touches on a lot of concepts about age, mortality, and the rationalization for war, as well as the futility and senselessness of it. The book isn't preachy. It isn't too serious. And while there are jokes and humor in it, none of them are stretches. All in all, this was a highly enjoyable book. All awards for it were well earned.
When I read books, I want them to be like OLD MAN'S WAR. The protagonist is likable and intelligent, without being a pain-in-the-ass, he might border on being a Mary Sue, but not overly so. The situations on the book are intriguing and make the pages turn quickly. There is a matter-of-fact reasoning to the deaths in the books (sure, the new/old soldiers die...but if they'd stayed on Earth, they'd still die...), and a simplicity and elegance to his musing on mortality.
Maybe this book hit me at a time when I'm doing a lot of questioning of mortality while battling my own existential dread, but I found it to the exact medicine I've been seeking. I highly recommend giving this one a glance, if you haven't already.
I am always on the lookout for books that I think my thirteen-year-old daughter might like. She's a reluctant reader, at best. (I think it's symptomatic of a society where kids have all the video-on-demand they want.) So, when a thread on a fantasy novel board I visit started talking about Tamora Pierce's “Alanna” series, I thought I'd check it out. Now, given that's it's written for 11-15 year olds, the prose isn't quite what I was used to for fantasy novels, but it was on par with John Flanagan's stuff in the “Ranger's Apprentice” series. After I got past that, and the intro chapter that set up the rest of the story much too quickly, it was a highly enjoyable romp with an ultimate Mary Sue.
I understand fully why people bag on Mary Sues. I get it. As much as writers try to make complex, deep characters, Mary Sue-ing them tends to happen. There could even be made an arugment that Mark Lawrence's dark and gritty Jorg Ancrath is something of a Mary Sue. Alanna of Trebond is a girl who wants to be a knight. Her twin brother wants to be a sorcerer. Using a highly implausible tactic, they switch places when their father sends them to training schools, and Alanna (using the identity of her brother, Alan) becomes a page and begins training to be a knight.
Pierce guides us through the first three years of Alanna's ordeals of being a page and having to hide her identity. She is the smallest and weakest of the boys in the school, but she grits her teeth and puts in the extra work to become formidable in her own right. She has to deal with a bully. She has to contend with a teach who is clearly a bad guy in disguise, and she has to deal with becoming a woman, as well.
The book was worth the read, and I clearly understood how a young girl reading this could find a hero to emulate and aspire to be. For that, it has incredible value. I've already begun reading the second book in the series. I need to see Alanna achieve her goal.
I like Lincoln Child. He went to Carleton College in Northfield, Minnestoa. I lived in Northfield for several years. Never met Linc, but I still like him. He, with his writing partner, Douglas Preston, has turned out a prolific amount of pages over the years, namely the Pendergast series and the Gideon Crew novels. However, FULL WOLF MOON is the fifth in the Jeremy Logan series, which is Child's alone.
I enjoyed the rest of the novels in the series. The premise is always the same: Logan is a widowed professor and an “enigmalogist”–a guy who studies enigmas. Usually, Logan finds something bordering on the supernatural, and then he skulks around until he uncovers the truth of the matter (and truth is always stranger than fiction), and then there's a flurry of action at the end as the story comes to its climax. It's always page-turning good fun.
FULL WOLF MOON is no exception to this beat. Logan is at an artists' retreat in the Adirondacks to finish a monograph, but the deep forest has been plagued in recent months by strange, brutal killings, possibly done by a rogue bear? Maybe Bigfoot? As one would expect from the title, maybe it's a werewolf.
Although the story starts slowly, once it picks up, it clips along with a solid pace, as typical for Preston/Child novels. Child manages to paint a plausible scientific basis for hairy dog-men running through the forest and feeding on the flesh of the untainted (albeit, a bit of a stretch). Once you see how he sets up the sketchy science, if you let yourself buy into the theory, the rest of the book is a roller coaster that eventually comes to a satisfying conclusion.
FULL WOLF MOON is not breaking new ground in the Jeremy Logan series, and it suffers from a lack of character development, but it's a fun read, and I will be looking forward to the next one.
In the umpteenth book in the vaunted Pendergast series, a serial killer is targeting the ultra-wealthy in New York, and Lt. D'Agosta and Special Agent Pendergast must track the maniac down before the city loses its collective mind and the panicked wealthy citizens bring wrath down about the NYPD And FBI.
I have read all of the Pendergast series. Every year, I look forward to the new one. At this point, Pendergast is an old friend despite the many enigmatic elements of his character, even after all these years. There's something about his unflappable nature, refined tastes, and gothic charm that appeals to me, and I think he's one of the great detectives, up there with Holmes and Poirot.
Preston and Child make a formidable team. Their books always clip along easily, demanding page-turners. CITY OF ENDLESS NIGHT is no exception to that rule. The writing, as always, is crisp and fluid. The story is enthralling. Even with their usual standards met, this story surpasses many of their more recent books solely because it is almost entirely focused on the problem at hand. There is precious little of the Pendergast family dramas that have tainted many of the more recent books, and Pendergast is not as melancholy and moody, dwelling over Constance and/or Helen, or the possibility that Diogenes is out there somewhere. He's an actual FBI agent again, and he works with Vincent to actually solve a mystery.
I know that Doug and Linc probably won't read this review, but if they do: Give me more of that. I'm not really a fan of Constance. I could do without her. I like seeing Pendergast focused on a real, flesh-and-blood crime without any supernatural elements filtered into it. It is refreshing to see him back in his natural element, to see him with some levity, to see him actually doing his job.
I'll take more of this sort of story every year. It was the sort of tale that first attracted me to the Pendergast series, and it was told well. I'll be hoping that the next go-round will be more of the same.
5/5
Maddy Hunter's “Passport to Peril” series is everything you want in a cozy mystery series–good whodunits filled with eccentric characters, exotic locales, and a put-upon sleuth who somehow happens to be around when bodies show up. Her newest outing, SAY NO MOOR, is no exception.
“Passport to Peril” centers around a group of octogenarian Iowans who tour the world with the much younger Emily Andrew-Miceli leading the way as organizer of the tours. No matter where they go, someone always turns up dead and Emily reluctantly puts the threads together to find the murder. How she does it with a gaggle of elderly loons dogging her the whole way is beyond me. This adventure finds them ranging all over the beautiful coast of Cornwall, England.
The best part of any Passport book is the strange group of seniors that tag along on Emily's sleuthing. And the seniors are where Maddy's ability to really write shines. When an author slaps you in the face with a pile of characters, they run the risk of losing you. Your brain has to “create” these characters in your head, and without suitable source material, they can become a jumble of nobodies fast. Maddy doesn't have this issue. Each character is distinct. They quickly fall into archetypes of people that you actually know or have met before, and they become crystallized quickly in your brain. After the first two or three chapters, they become like old friends. And by the end of the book, they're family. And she some somehow manages to replicate this feat with each book.
As typical with Maddy's books, the humor in SAY NO MOOR is spot-on, fast, and fitting. It ranges from subtle one-liners to slapstick, to character-based humor that comes out of Iowans being...well, American...in foreign countries. Not to mention the pleasant humor that comes from the juxtaposition that technology has brought into the lives of these intrepid adventurers.
“Passport to Peril”–come for the mystery, stay for the jokes. As always, Maddy knocks another book out of the park, and I will be looking forward to the next adventure, CATCH ME IF YUKON, which should be out late in 2018, and will send the folks to Alaska. Poor, poor Emily...
I saw “Captain America: Winter Soldier” by myself in the theater, as I do many movies. With work schedules and the kid's various clubs and events in the way, it's easier for me to carve out a solo window of time and sneak off to see the comic book movies that I love so much. “Winter Soldier” is still the best of the Marvel films, to me. I remember vividly that when that movie ended, I was hit with the biggest wave of depression. The Germans call it “weltschmerz”—the depression that comes from seeing how the world is, and knowing how it should be. Chris Evans was so good as Captain America, that I wanted Captain America to be real, and I wanted Chris Evans to be that guy. I wanted someone to be that positive, that good, that pure. I felt like America—no, the world needs beacons of positivity and goodness like that. Too often, we get dragged down into the darkness and cynicism, so we need things that will give us that uplift our souls so desperately crave, even if they are fictional. This is why I always look forward to the next John Flanagan book.
I discovered THE RANGER'S APPRENTICE series a few years ago when I was trying to find books for the kid to read. I brought home the first in that series and gave it to her. She was uninterested (she is a reluctant reader, which breaks my heart—but what can you do?). So, I read it myself. In the stories of Will and Halt, I found that same sort of goodness that I got from “Winter Soldier.” When I discovered the RA series, eleven books were out. The twelfth, and final book, was on the way. I tore through the whole series in a week. I couldn't put them down. Sure, Will was a big Mary Sue. Sure, I knew that things were going to work out in the end for the main characters. I still enjoyed them.
John Flanagan started a spin-off series from the RA series after he completed Will and Halt's adventures. THE BROTHERBAND CHRONICLES were the stories of a group of Scandian (Vikings) sailors. Forged by the trials of their community's coming-of-age rituals, the boys become a brotherband—a sailing unit. Hal, their leader, has a small, but crafty wolfship, THE HERON, and they sail it to various adventures. Seven books deep into this series, and I actually enjoy it more than I did the Ranger's Apprentice series.
Sure, Hal is a big Mary Sue. Sure, Lydia is too cool for her own good. Sure, Stefan, Jesper, and Edvin are underused characters. Sure, Ingvar is cool, but he's become one-dimensional. Same with Stig. And Ulf and Wulf. And Thorn. (How about a little more conflict within your characters, John?) But, the books are good and pure. They're clever. The relationship of the brotherband is wholesome, and every time I finish reading one of these books, I'm struck with that same wave of depression I got after “Winter Soldier.” –I want this to be real, and I want to be one of them. To me, that's the highest compliment I can give any book.
The books are written for kids (4th-8th grade). They're not difficult reads. I tore through this one in a few hours. They get a little formulaic at times, but I don't mind that. Flanagan always finds a way to give them a new twist that keeps them from being the same as the last one. (Take a note, Dan Brown...) These books are not going to change the world, but whenever I read one, the world is a better place in my own head, at least for a little while.
I can't wait until the next one comes out.
CJ Box writes a good mystery. He has a simple story-telling style that I enjoy greatly. He's not going to drown you with fluid, unnecessary descriptions. He's not going to insult your intelligence, either. It's a very fitting writing style for a series of novels centered on a very blue-collar detective, Wyoming Game Warden Joe Pickett.
In the first novel in the Joe Pickett series, a trio of murders lead to Joe getting embroiled in an investigation concerning the unstoppable force of land development running into the unmovable object of the possible discovery of an endangered species. Add into that the difficulties that come with being the new guy in the county, a pregnant wife, a narcissistic mother-in-law, and two precocious daughters, and clearly, Joe has his hands full.
I don't know who came first, CJ Box or Craig Johnson (turns out, it's CJ Box), but both write in similar styles about the same general area of Wyoming. Both are very skilled with sparse prose and solid, interesting characters for whom the reader is instantly compelled to become invested.
Through both of their books, a deep-seated desire to move out to Wyoming has bloomed in me, something I never thought could happen. But, through the beauty of their books, I harbor a great need to relocate to the wide-open countryside of northeastern Wyoming. Maybe someday I'll be able to make that happen. Until then, I will continue to read about it.
I will definitely be checking out more of the Joe Pickett series. The second book in the series is called SAVAGE RUN. It will be worth a look-see, definitely.
www.cjbox.net
I've a confession to make: I'm a 42 year old man who loves football, swords ‘n' sorcery fantasy, and Laura Ingalls Wilder.
I've probably read the Little House books dozens of times. My favorite is THE LONG WINTER, and that single volume was probably one of the biggest reasons why I wrote AFTER EVERYONE DIED.
When I saw a book blurb on a Harper-Collins mailer about a novel called CAROLINE, and saw that it was about the Ingalls family's move from Pepin, Wisconsin to the Kansas Indian Territories, I was intrigued. This was a novel written for adults from the perspective of Caroline Ingalls, the family matriarch, and how she and Charles moved to Kansas with two young girls, while she was pregnant with her third. The book was a fascinating and insightful look at a a woman who doesn't get too much depth in the books (Laura's love for her father is evident often, but Ma is a steadfast icon in the background, kind and nurturing, but never really a deep character). I have the utmost respect for Charles and Caroline and how they handled their moves across the prairie, helping to settle this country. To really get inside Caroline's head was a wonderful treat for a fan of the Little House books.
Sarah Miller really dives deep on Caroline, bringing up the historical facts of her own childhood (losing her own father at age five and being raised by a stepfather) to process the relationships she saw between Charles and the girls. She really examines the relationship between Caroline and Charles, a very tight, loving relationship that any couple would envy.
All in all, it's a really interesting piece of historical fiction that I found riveting. It was nice to see the pieces of Laura's LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE show up in this book from Caroline's perspective–things like Mr. Edwards meeting Santa Claus, and the building of the home in Kansas with Mr. Edwards' help, and the malaria outbreak that nearly killed the Ingalls family. Laura was relegated to a squawky child in the background, while Mary was more of a focus for Caroline. Even in Laura's books, Laura was Pa's kid, and Mary was Caroline's.
If you're a fan of the Little House books, I'd recommend giving this one a go. You might enjoy it.
Having said all that, this is one of those books that I both loved and hated. I loved everything I saw that I wrote about above. Miller is clearly a good writer, and she has a love for the material. Her prose is elegant and vivid most of the time.
The things I hated are based wholly on my own tastes and opinions, not anything empirical. For instance, Miller's prose–to my mind–is often overwrought. Obviously, this being a major publication from Harper-Collins, it was edited by at least one or two editors who had no problem with this prose. It feels as though it fits Caroline's personality. It is a similar voice to how Laura wrote the initial books, and given that it's directed at adults and not children, the extra wordiness of the prose can be forgiven, but I found myself rolling my eyes at times.
One of the biggest issues I had with the prose was the proliferation of similes. It felt like there was at least one heavy simile per page, so much so that I started getting angry at every one. They were obvious similes that tried to capture a voice from 1870, and sometimes they were forgivable, but many times they felt so obtuse and clunky that they took me out of the moment.
Again, her editors seemed to have no issue with them, so this is purely my own editorial tastes in action. I'm not against similes. I use a lot of them, myself. But when they start battering down your door with obviousness, there's a problem.
I enjoyed the story greatly. It was a welcomed perspective to a book series I love. Even with my own issues with the prose, I'd still give this one 5/5 stars. It was an enjoyable and readable book, just a little heavy-handed at times.
I've become a fan of Mark Lawrence. Obviously, he has the pedigree to be one of the best ever, but that doesn't mean he's flawless. RED SISTER, while a great book, definitely has its flaws, but the high spots and the character work go well to cover the bumps.
In RED SISTER, we meet the Sisters of Sweet Mercy convent. The Sisters are no mere religious nuns. Instead, the Sisters are basically a cross between assassins, fighters, and wizards. Depending on their bloodline, they might be gifted with a form of shadow magic, or a form of destructive magic, or perhaps unnatural speed or strength. In the convent, the young novices learn to harness their gifts and become what they were meant to be.
Nona is the main character. She runs of the Hunska blood giving her the ability to harness speed (sort of like The Flash, but not as fast). Nona is on trial for murder, but Sister Glass, the abbess of the convent, steals her from the hangman's noose and takes her to train at the convent.
The novel covers Nona's training and the friends (and enemies) she makes at the convent. It is a solid opening novel for a trilogy, but it suffers from some predictability that I'm not used to from Lawrence, and it also feels like it's about 100 pages too long. Some of the scenes and descriptions plod along, rather than hustling to their conclusion to keep the pace brisk. Toward the end, when the big final climactic battle was happening, I found myself skimming pages and passages because the action began to drag. Some might say I'm incorrect in thinking that, but it's just how I felt it drag.
RED SISTER'S strengths lie in the characterizations of Nona, Ara, Clera, and the other girls, and their interactions and bonding. In some ways, it reminded me of the friendships between Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and I found myself wanting more of that, rather than the labored action passages and the explanations and world-building.
The sequel comes out next year and I will definitely be checking it out.
A tight band of memorable heroes.
An impossible quest.
Weapons of myth and legend.
Every notable beat from fantasy.
Erectile dysfunction jokes.
Sign me the hell up.
KINGS OF THE WYLD reads like Spinal Tap and The Princess Bride had a baby, and then that baby decided to get drunk a lot and play Nazareth records at full volume.
The great mercenary band Saga, long broken up, reforms for one last quest: To save their front-man's daughter from certain death at the hands of the massive Heartwyld Horde. Long past their prime and each battling his own demons, the five members of Saga join together one last time for the most epic battle of their lives.
Nicolas Eames, in his debut novel, has earned my adoration and praise. The pacing is tight. The characters are instantly memorable. The plot was fantastical, yet endearing. It was everything I want in a fantasy novel.
Although this book is a pure standalone novel, Eames is at work on a second book set in the same world with a couple of the peripheral characters from the first book. I'd definitely read that.
I haven't been as taken by a series of books and a writer's abilities as I have Bledsoe and his Tufa novels in quite some time. There's something about the world Bledsoe has created in his fictional Cloud County and this race of displaced fairies, the Tufa, which makes me desperate to know more. I want to know all their secrets!
In the Tufa books, Bledsoe has a whole people to take stories from, a sort of Spoon River Anthology of backwoods rural folk. There's no central character to his stories, usually. Instead, the community of Needsville and the Tufa people become the protagonist. This means that Bledsoe can approach the community from any angle. There is a multitude of characters that can grace his pages, and endless wealth of stories to tell.
In GATHER HER ROUND, the fifth outing in Cloud County, the community of Tufa have been struck by a tragedy: a monster pig, bred and raised domestically but released and gone feral, has killed one of their own. Hard to think a catalyst like this could turn into a love story, but the Tufa say that all songs are love songs.
Like the other books, Bledsoe's prose is tight and effortless. It compels you to read more. His affection for his characters is evident, and his grasp on the community as a whole is total. The greatest travesty is that it takes a year (or more) for a new Tufa novel to emerge from this fertile landscape he's created and I'm stuck waiting, desperate for the next one, the images and ideas of the most recent book plaguing me like an earworm that gets stuck in your head and leaves you humming the same song for weeks.
All of these books are fantastic. GATHER HER ROUND is no exception, a five-star novel in every way, shape, and form. Alex has said that the sixth trip through Cloud County is on its way. I will have to wait patiently for it to arrive, because I'm sure it will be another must-read novel.
This book has to be one of the most ambitious narratives I've ever read. It's plotted between the present (of the time of the book, of course) and four years prior. It moves seamlessly through these two times, weaving together a very complex tale and it does it successfully, as the past and the present blend without snare to present a very broad image.
The first book was something of an acquired taste. Jorg Ancrath was an arrow fired from a blindman's bow, hellbent on destruction, pain, and panic. This sequel finds a bit more of a likable Jorg. Maybe the first book blunted some of his edge. He's still a killer. He's still cleverer-than-you. But he's more reserved now. He's a man who sees the bigger picture in the game of life. He's a king of his own lands now, and there's a threat coming from a neighboring country. The Jorg from the first book might have realized the battle was unwinnable and retreated. This Jorg realizes that he has a people to protect and lands to unify under his banner.
Mark Lawrence is one of the best fantasy writers out there–emphasis on the word “writer.” Some fantasy writers are just storytellers, and there's nothing wrong with that. Lawrence understands the power of words and his prose is tight and focused. I enjoy that.
I will definitely be reading the third book.