Travis
Hundreds of years in the future, the planet is all but uninhabitable and the majority of the population has been cryogenically frozen. One day, the massive generation ships will be complete and take humanity to newly discovered planets across the galaxy. Until then, the Watch makes sure everything runs smoothly.
Martin and his sister joined the Watch, a ten-year shift watching over the frozen population. Even though it's his first chance to see the outside world after living underground, things aren't quite like the stories he's been told. The book's tagline is a bit misleading though—there are crops, there are metal, and there are people, just not very many of them.
Things take a turn for the worse when Martin's sister dies. However, she doesn't stay gone. Martin begins seeing her ghost and is guided by a spiritual cat that only he can see. Together, these spiritual apparitions help him to solve the mystery of why his warehouse of frozen people is beginning to fail.
It took a little while for me to settle into this story. At first, I wasn't sure whether to expect more sci fi or supernatural elements. The plot took a while to get going, leaving me initially confused as to the direction the story would take.
Once things started coming together, the story began to take off. There's betrayal and intrigue from every direction, and Martin's stuck in the middle of it. His struggles are interwoven with flashbacks of what his life was like before the Watch.
For a book that centered so strongly around human emotion, I would've preferred getting to know the side characters more. The writing style was difficult to follow at times, diving into a lengthy description of a crumbling house but offering no information about the lead character until several chapters into the book.
Some of the plot could have been revealed in a more logical manner, as well. I often found myself confused about a character's motivation until later in the story. Everything made sense by the end of the story, but the confusion could have been avoided.
Overall, this was an interesting take on a possible future for humanity. It fell somewhere between dystopian and hopeful, and it managed to end a note that was appropriately bittersweet for the themes it dealt with.
Normally when a spaceship lands on Earth, major things start to happen rather quickly. At least, that's how most movies portray first contact.
The Spaceship Next Door takes a different approach. When the spaceship lands, nothing happens. It just sits in a small field for more than three years. No one can get too close due to an unnatural psychological deterrent and bullets vanish in a spark of light.
When Ed, a government analyst, comes to Sorrow Falls, it slowly becomes apparent that the spaceship has been doing something. The effects are just subtle. And more alarmingly, there appears to be a human hand print on the ship that has been considered untouchable for three years.
Annie knows Ed isn't the journalist he claims to be, but offers to show him around Sorrow Falls anyway. She's connected to nearly everyone in the town, including several of the soldiers at the local army base.
This book started out as an introspective, small-town story with witty prose and colorful characters. I was reminded a bit of Maggie Stiefvater's writing, where subtle humor and turns of phrase would stick with me after reading them.
Eventually, the book morphs into something... well, I'm honestly not quite sure. The pacing takes a left turn and accelerates to breakneck, which was somewhat unexpected given my impression of the rest of the novel. The focus on characters becomes a focus on action and plot twists. To be fair, that's not a bad thing. Many people—including myself, sometimes—prefer that style of writing. But the tonal shift was jarring.
Overall, this was an interesting read. I think I would have enjoyed it more if it had been more consistently plot-driven or character focused, but it was entertaining all the same.
Find this review and more at The Fantasy Inn
The story begins with Zader being bullied by some kids from school, who throw a water balloon at him. Which doesn't sound so bad, except that Zader is violently allergic to water. His skin burns and turns grey, and the pain is excruciating.
From there, the story reminds me of Percy Jackson, but with roots in Hawaiian mythology rather than Greek. Instead of gods, there are the Niuhi sharks. Niuhi sharks can be any size or species, but they are always unusually intelligent.
They're also the only sharks that eat man.
Though it's more implied than outright explained, these Niuhi sharks are also (likely) an ancient race of people who have the ability to transform into sharks. Which is kind of awesome.
Zader was adopted by his current family after being found abandoned on the beach. Since then, his new family treats him as one of their own, make sure to keep him away from water, seafood, and rare meat.
Basically, anything that sharks would like. Hmm...
One of my favorite parts of this book was how prominently Hawaiian Pidgin featured. To keep the language from becoming too confusing, each chapter starts with a short, relevant definition. The very first one had me laughing:
Like beef?
An invitation to a fight, not dinner.
There's a lot going on in this book that's only slowly revealed as the story goes on. The plot starts out with Thomas and his blind sister Mia on the run from the evil King William's right-hand woman, who is chasing them across a desert with a sandhog, reminding me of one of the Mad Max movies.
As escaped slaves marked with the yellow hourglass, they are somewhat important and the king would want them back. But the king is going through a lot of effort to recapture them, more than would make sense.
Maybe it has something to do with the magic powers both Mia and Thomas start displaying.
The main duo are both interesting characters. Mia can see glimpses of the future and call upon the magic of a glowing bird, and Thomas has a limited form of super strength he can only use on steel. Neither is in full control of their abilities and they learn more about them as the plot progresses.
Red Hourglass has a rich world, full of steampunk machines in a dystopian far-future Earth. Airships, mysterious magic, Gatling guns, and a giant Iron Man suit all play an important role. The references to the “ancient civilization” that came before were a bit on the nose, but still good fun. I would have preferred to learn a bit more about the various cultures alluded to in the book, but the “cool” factor was there in plenty.
Thomas and Mia are driven by their pursuit of freedom. After living their entire lives in slavery, they would rather die than serve King William again. I enjoyed their journey, though I would have preferred if things were a bit more challenging for them. Much of the plot was driven by the actions of secondary characters, with the brother/sister duo responding to the fallout. And, on one occasion, they conveniently find a compass pointing them exactly where they need to go.
Overall, though, the story was adventurous and fast-paced, and I read the thing in just under a couple days. At just under 200 pages, it's a quick read.
Anyone who remembers reading stories like The Bridge to Terabithia knows that fantasy can sometimes be a form of escapism for the characters as well as the reader. In I Kill Giants, Barbara fights to slay giants of both the literal and metaphorical kind.
The story begins with Barbara ignoring the speaker for her fifth-grade class's career day in favor of Dungeons and Dragons manual. Barely a page into the book, I liked her already.
Unlike many young heroes going to school and defending the world on the side, Barabara isn't afraid to keep what she does a secret. She boldly announces in front of her entire class:
I find giants.
I hunt giants.
I kill giants.
This book wouldn't have even been on my radar if it weren't for the unrelenting hype. I've seen review after review praising it.
...and I've seen reviewer after reviewer left broken and scarred after reading it.
Is that a bit of an exaggeration? Sure. But less of one than you'd think.
In the words of author Tom Robbins: Just because something didn't happen, that doesn't mean it isn't true. The Poppy War was inspired by Kuang's thesis in Chinese history, specifically the Rape of Nanjing in the 1930s. Kuang has an excellent blog post explaining this choice. If you feel emotionally devastated after reading this book, that's the point. War is terrible, and humanity's worst crimes are often swept under the rug and forgotten by future generations. Even though this is a work of fiction, The Poppy War helps to shine a light on this very real darkness.
Anyways, on to the story.
We first meet Rin, orphan peasant from the Rooster Province, as she is preparing to take the Keju exam. Her entire future hangs in the balance: If she does well in the exam, she will enter one of the nation's prestigious Academies. And she needs to do well, since her foster parents (and black market opium merchants) plan to marry her off to further their criminal enterprise.
Unsurprisingly—or where would the story be?—Rin aces the test. She scores so highly that she is accepted into Sinegard, the Academy that trains the future war generals. From here, the story has much in common with Patrick Rothfuss's Name of the Wind. Rin makes a few close friends, pisses off a rich and influential student, and begins training under a young master that everyone believes to be crazy. She becomes an expert in martial arts, and even begins to learn the basics of shamanism, a magical art now believed to be the stuff of myths and legends.
Throughout this all, war is brewing on the horizon. Rin is eventually thrust violently into the midst of it, and things only get darker from there.
I thought there were two areas where this book excelled: the setting and the portrayal of war. Unlike many popular fantasy books rooted in Western European influences, The Poppy War has Asian roots, depicting a fantasy-analogue of China. The shamanism element of the book is fascinating and interweaves tightly with the world's religion and war on drugs. And, if I haven't driven this point home yet, Kuang depicts the inhuman nature of war with supreme skill, never shying away from portraying brutal war crimes committed by both sides.
As an added bonus, I thought the audio narration by Emily Woo Zeller was spectacular.
Target Audience
* Fans of Name of the Wind who don't mind books with graphic violence
* Anyone who enjoys non-western settings and cultures
* People who like magic systems to have serious consequences
* People who enjoy military- or war-focused stories
If you'd told me back in high school—hell, even back in college—that I'd be reading a collection of essays for fun, I'd probably laugh. I have enough fantasy and science fiction stories waiting in my To Be Read mountain to last a lifetime without seeking out essays about the genre.
But that would be missing the point.
In these essays, Hurley is telling a story. Like any good fantasy classic, it's a story of overcoming oppression, of fighting for what you believe in, and struggling to make the world a better place; and it's made all the more powerful by being real.
If you've never read Hurley's Hugo-winning essay “We Have Always Fought,” you should. It's available for free in both text and audio formats. I'd say it's the highlight of this collection, though many of the other essays are powerfully written and opened my eyes to issues I've been fortunate enough to avoid by virtue of being one of “the majority.”
Most of the essays relate to Hurley's experiences as a writer, but they carry a message that I think we all could benefit from hearing.
The only thing I knew going into this book was that it formed the basis of the hugely popular Witcher video games. As someone whose gaming days peaked in the era of PS1, I was basically going into this book blind.
I have to say, this was a bit of a mixed bag for me.
The Good:
The prose, the world, and the dark twists on classic fairy tales were all spectacular. The English translation is excellent, and I would never have suspected the book was originally written in another language. Geralt and the whole concept of Witchers are both fascinating.
For those of you who enjoy audiobooks, Peter Kenny's narration is incredible.
The Bad:
One thing that often prevents me from enjoying fairy tale retellings is that they feel like a story you're hearing secondhand. All the plot points are there, the atmosphere is intriguing, but it's hard to actually feel like you can connect with the characters.
Unfortunately, The Last Wish has the same issue. I can count on one hand (with fingers to spare) the number of times we get to peek inside Geralt's head and see what he's thinking. If I were to pick a page at random and read an excerpt, I wouldn't have been able to tell that Geralt was the point-of-view character.
As someone who reads primarily for the characters, this made it hard for me to feel invested in the story.
Overall:
I'm glad I read the book, but I won't be continuing the series. From what I've heard, this is one of the best Witcher books, and it just didn't interest me enough to continue.
This is one of the more unique stories I've read recently. It's dark, features a dead religion, and takes place nearly entirely underground.
The story begins with a teenage boy named Wynn being sold into the priesthood of the Forgefather. The good part? He'll have the chance to learn the legendary metalworking skills of the priests, which are coveted throughout the world. The bad part? He'll have to start out in the mines, working as a slave to provide ore for the priests.
In the underground world of Aspiration, nearly everyone hopes to escape. If they're lucky, they'll be tested by a priest and given the chance to become a novice in service to the Forgefather. Until then, life revolves around the mines. Everyone must meet their tally or be punished.
The other main point of view is Kharios, a novice priest who spends his days working a forge. I especially liked the exploration of a faith involving blacksmithing. The author clearly spent time making sure some of the finer details of forge work were accurate. The two boys' stories alternate every few chapters.
Things start out slowly as we're introduced to the world of Faithless. And make no mistake, this is a fascinating place to read about. Life in the mines is brutal for those living outside the work crews, and anyone with enough money can seek the aid of the mysterious Listeners. Through it all, a dark presence lurks in the shadows.
Faithless is a grimdark story to its core. Bad things happen to good people, sometimes to a horrific degree. Rape, murder, pedophilia, and supernatural monsters all play a part. Both of the main characters are somewhat controversial. They're simultaneously easy to identify with and maddeningly frustrating.
Target Audience
* People who like unique settings
* People who like grimdark stories with somewhat relatable protagonists
* People who prefer plain prose that moves the story along
* People who like stories that can stand alone (though this will have at least one sequel)
Just reread this one again now that I finally own all the novellas. It was every bit as fun as I remember, and if anything I enjoyed it more this time around. My only minor complaint is the audio narration kept pronouncing “tears” in space suits as the salty eye water, which was unexpected.
We'll see if I can pace myself until the Murderbot novel releases in May.
Non-human protagonists are always tricky. How do you make them relatable and still fundamentally alien? Too much of one without the other makes the intended effect fall flat.
Enter Task, a wind-carved stone golem who spends the centuries turning the tides of war for the highest bidder. He's been magically compelled to follow the orders of a parade of violent warlords, and the whole experience has left him rather jaded. And yet, Ben Galley manages to make Task a lovably terrifying creature and an absolute joy to read about.
The real strength of Heart of Stone is the characters. Aside from Task, there are two other main POV characters: Lesky, a young girl who shows no fear of Task; and Alabaster, the legendary knight who slew the last dragon. If there's one thing that shines above the rest of this story, it's the friendship between Task and Lesky. It's a beautifully heartwarming presence in an otherwise dark story.
There's a lot of plot packed into a relatively small page count. Hartlund has been plagued by civil war for nine years, with one side supporting the boy King and the other rebelling against tyrannical leadership. Both sides are depicted in shades of gray, with neither being definitively in the right. One side purchases Task at the beginning of the novel in an effort to bring things to a bloody end.
Hartlund was an interesting setting to explore. Most forms of animal life are magical parallels to real-world creatures. For example, imagine a stray cat, but replace the fur with scales and make their claws a lot scarier. The magic was intriguing, as well, with most of it relying on getting into people's heads to communicate or enslave.
To me, the war served as a backdrop for Task's character development, which was the true heart of the story. Task was caught between the violence of war under a commander he can't disobey and the love of an innocent child. These two things drive Task's arc and thus, the story. As such, I occasionally lost interest in the battles when the stakes escalated beyond the personal level. It felt a bit rushed, with a plot-driven climax tacked onto the end of a character-driven novel. That said, this was minor criticism in a compelling story that I loved from start to finish.
Overall, this was an excellent read. The few issues I had with the story were far outweighed by my inability to put the book down. For those of you who enjoy audiobooks, Adam Stubbs is a relatively-unknown narrator who is absolutely phenomenal. Just wait until you hear his golem voice for Task.
TL;DR: No, this book doesn't have Fitz. Yes, you should read it.
I've been slowly working my way through The Realm of the Elderlings. The Farseer Trilogy was an absolute delight. Hobb's characterization, depth of emotion, and willingness to drag her characters through hell and back made the series an instant favorite.
I think Liveship Traders is better.
First, there's the worldbuilding. In the first chapter, we're introduced to giant, sentient sea serpents and an island of mysterious magical creatures. Instead of the Wit and the Skill, there are Liveships.
Liveships are made of wizard wood and ludicrously expensive. The debts incurred by purchasing one take generations to pay off. But, once three family members (across three different generations) have died on the deck of the liveship, it comes to life. It has a mind of its own, can help the sailors guide her through rough waters, and more.
There's also a lot going on politically. Bingtown, home to the liveships and the trader families, is slowly coming to accept the evils of slavery. The nearby slaver nation of Calcet has been gaining an economic foothold for years.
Unlike the Farseer books, Liveship is written in third-person and follows multiple viewpoint characters. Most of these characters are members or close friends of the same Bingtown trader family.
Kennit is a pirate with a reputation for incredible luck. He's a lovable scoundrel, and quickly became one of my favorite anti-heroes. All he wants is to secure his own liveship and become king of all pirates. That's not too much to ask, right?
Then there's the Vestrit family. Althea is the hotheaded daughter determined to prove her worth as a sailor. Wintrow is torn between fulfilling his destiny in the priesthood and family responsibility. Malta's a little shit. And Kyle...well, I don't think I've ever hated a character quite so much.
It's somewhat telling that I'm not sure who the villain of the series will be. Hobb's already fantastic characterization skills are taken to the next level in this book. Everyone feels like a real person, and (as much as I loved to hate Regal) no one feels cartoonishly evil.
I didn't realize how many POV's there were until I wrote this out. It's...a lot, especially since most of these characters get significant page time. And I left out quite a few.
If you're on the fence about skipping this series to get back to Fitz, Nighteyes, and the Fool, DON'T DO IT. I'd almost recommend this book as a jumping off point for The Realm of the Elderlings and catching up on Farseer later. It's that good.
Dixie offers a unique approach to both young adult coming of age stories and portal fantasy. Rather than telling the story of a child finding themselves transported into a magical world and becoming a hero, Dixie is from the perspective of that hero's—or rather, heroine's—clueless friend.
Chance is a 12-year-old boy living in small-town America. One day in school, his life is upended when shy, wallflower Dixie uses magic to make everyone in the class forget about her. Except for some reason, Chance doesn't forget.
He follows her after school into the nearby woods, only to come across an abandoned well. Minutes later, Dixie comes hurtling out of the well in a blast of fire. Dragons can be rather annoying like that.
This is Chance's first introduction to Vahn, a magical world that can only be reached through the titular well. It's full of dragons, wizards, lizard-men, and friendly chipmunk people.
And Dixie is its greatest warrior.
The decision to have Chance be the main character instead of Dixie was an interesting one. Instead of acting like a chosen warrior (a la Dixie), Chance reacts to the perils of Vahn the same way many of us would. He hides behind trees, runs away, and fumbles his way through actual fights. In contrast, Dixie is an amazing fighter and has a magical trick up her sleeve for just about everything.
Even when things get tough and Chance is forced to act more heroically, he stays true to his character. He still hesitates and runs, and those decisions have real consequences.
The book did suffer a bit from “debut syndrome.” The dialogue was slightly wooden, the plot was simplistic and a little cliché, and the main character sometimes flip-flopped drastically in his actions. Some of this was likely by design with the book's young target audience, but it kept me from sitting back and letting the story pull me along.
Slight disclaimer: While the book is explicitly stated to be targeted towards a younger audience, there are occasional moments of graphic violence, including multiple beheadings.
All thing considered, Dixie was an enjoyable read. Where the writing fell short, the originality more than made up for it. I'm excited to see the direction the series takes now that the world has been established and future storylines hinted at.
Instead of writing a single review for the anthology or writing a short review of all 40 stories, I'll leave you with my thoughts on my ten favorites from the anthology:
Sacred Semantics by Nicholas Eames
If I could take everything I loved about Kings of the Wyld and distill it into a single short story, this would be it. The world is unapologetically over-the-top in all the best ways. There's a massive civil war going on between different factions who worship a spider goddess over how many legs she has: six or eight.
The Fox and the Bowman by Sebastian de Castell
Thomas swears revenge on the knight that took his family's land. He climbs a hill, takes aim with his longbow, and....meets a wizard. The wizard offers to help him take revenge on the knight, and Thomas accepts.
This was simply excellent. The author makes great use of a couple tricks that really drew me in and complemented the story.
The Hero of Aral Pass by Mark Lawrence
I adored the Red Queen's War trilogy, and this brings back the lovable, cowardly rouge Jalan Kendeth. Years after the events of the main series, Jalan decides to tell the true story of what actually happened at Aral Pass. As expected, the truth of the matter is far more interesting (and hilarious) than the story the rest of the Broken Empire knows.
The Undying Lands by Michael R. Fletcher
In the Undying Lands, widespread necromantic power has put an end to the finality of death. Every that dies continues living as an undead. This story is a bit of dark comedy following a woman who is condemned to fight in a gladiatorial arena for “accidentally” stabbing a man.
Why does this matter in a world where death is not the end? Well, the losers of the arena fights have their heads stacked on shelves throughout the arena as grotesque decorations. Those who fare particularly poorly in the arena get to spend an eternity decorating the walls of the community shitters.
This War of Ours by Timandra Whitecastle
Something about this story was incredibly compelling. A girl is on the run with her family, and their survival depends on utter silence. There's a lot more going on in the world, but the author slowly reveals the mysteries surrounding the setting.
The prose kept things moving quickly and there was an air of mystery throughout the story as the author slowly revealed more about the world. In a short span of words, there was a complete story, full character arc, and a world that I would happily read a full-length novel about.
Misplaced Heroism by Andrew Rowe
It's rare to find a short story that places fun above all else. This was a ton of fun.
The story begins with our hero being summoned through a magical ritual to help defend a fantasy realm from an army of demons. However, he's just some random college kid.
The story doesn't take itself too seriously. My favorite quote:
Also, the legendary holy sword was kind of...bent.
They assured me it would still work just fine.
The Waving of the Flag by Thomas R. Gaskin
Dear Menelaus by Laura M. Hughes
Violet by Mazarkis Williams
Exhibition by Ben Galley
I have to admit, I'm not completely sure why I picked this up in the first place. Other than binge-watching all of Parks and Recreation and the vague goal I set for myself to read more nonfiction, I couldn't really say why I chose this book. I saw my library had the audiobook and decided: Why not?
This was a joy to read. Or rather, to hear. I'm firmly in the camp that audiobooks are in no way “lesser” to their print counterparts, and sometimes, they're just plain better. This is one of those times. I've never experienced a book that was so clearly tailored to audio.
Amy narrates the book herself, using her own recording studio. Some chapters are recorded live in front of a studio audience. Others are written by guests, and they all narrate these sections themselves. You probably haven't heard of these guests, little obscure nobodies like Sir Patrick Stewart and Seth Meyers. Yeah.
Okay, I'm pretty sure Sir Patrick Stewart didn't write the haikus about negative body image, but he does turn them into gold.
There isn't a central theme of empowerment in Yes, Please. Instead, the book is a collection of Poehler's thoughts and memories, how she became who she is today and the people that helped her along the way. As a talented comedian (and apparently, audio narrator), she makes the book incredibly entertaining.
The book isn't all light-hearted fun, though. It covers several of Amy's regrets, such as when she accidentally made fun of a real disabled child in one of her Saturday Night Live skits. It covers the struggles and joys of raising children while working full-time, the difficulty of making a career in comedy, and her history with drugs.
It also covers her struggle to write this book. The introduction to the book is probably one of the most accurate, relatable descriptions of how writing can be hard. And not just hard in the sense that the perfect words don't always fall into place. Writing is hard because it's tough to stay up late at night and write with your screen dimmed while the kids sleep; it's hard because who the hell actually cares what you have to say?; it's hard because it's just plain hard. Again, Poehler manages to make this hilarious.
For a such an honest, written-from-the-heart book, I was a little surprised that it ended on such a casual note, with Amy reading a chapter about how robots and technology will take over the world in front of a live audience. But, when I consider her career in comedy and determination to say “Yes, Please!” in the face of life's hardships, perhaps such an ending is only fitting.
First and foremost: this was a fantastic book. It is also a divisive book. More on that later.
It's hard to compare The Court of Broken Knives to other books. It's...different. Unique. Literary grimdark with a compelling cast of characters in an intricately detailed world.
On to the story.
Many years before the start of our story, a legendary conqueror known as Amrath laid waste to most of the known world. The only city not to fall to his armies was Sorlost, home to the holy Emperor.
In the present day, Sorlost is no longer the great city it once was. Generations without facing an outside threat have made the city soft and vulnerable to invasion. The Emperor is a mere figurehead. The priesthood continues to make human sacrifices, with even their own priestesses killed in the name of their god.
Enter Orhan, the head of a major noble house. He hires a mercenary company to kill the current emperor and most of his advisors, with the goal of rebuilding Sorlost stronger than before.
Tobias leads a small group of these mercenaries, smuggling them into the city to lay low before the ultimate attack. He's competent, logical, and not afraid to kill anyone in his way.
Marith is a new recruit to the mercenaries. He's nearly inhumanly beautiful, addicted to several drugs, and alternates between kindness and crazed bloodlust. I can honestly say that I've never seen a character like Marith before; he is fascinating to read about.
In parallel to the assassination plot, the high priestess Thalia slowly becomes disillusioned with the doctrine that requires her to murder and main innocents.
The main thing that sets this book apart from others is the prose. Take the first few lines:
Knives.
Knives everywhere. Coming down like rain.
Down to close work like that, men wrestling in the mud, jabbing at each other, too tired to care any more. Just die and get it over with.
Target Audience:
Literary prose
Grimdark at its grimmest and darkest
The premise of the book is one I hadn't seen before. A mysterious webcomic that could only have been written by the main character's dead best friend? Count me in. Even more, the webcomic is suspiciously close to the actual events surrounding that friend's death.
I Am Princess X is a young adult mystery/thriller about one girl's search for her missing friend. It delivers on its intriguing premise early, wasting no time in diving into the mystery. The story is fast-paced and doesn't let up for its roughly 250 pages.
I'm somewhat conflicted over this book. While the pacing is quick, the suspense sort of just...fades away. The main villain is initially spooky and intimidating, but the more we learn about him, the lower the stakes feel. It's like the Lovecraft quote:
The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.
As scary as the Needle Man was, he could've benefited from a little less knowing.
There were some LGBTQ characters in the story, which was great. However, I think they could have been handled a little more deftly. If there's an older man alone with a young girl and she's worried he'll demand sexual favors, he probably shouldn't say “You'd have to be a guy for me to be interested in that.” Because, you know, that's more important than her being an underage minor.
That aside, this was one of the more uniquely presented stories I've encountered. If you pick up this book in print, there are pages of comic strips throughout the novel that are taken directly from the in-universe webcomic and provide important clues about what might have happened to the missing Libby. If you listen to the audio version (like me), these segments are narrated in a theatrical “radio announcer” type voice and feature sound effects normally found in audio dramas. As always, Mary Robinette Kowal knocks it out of the park with her fantastic narration.
Overall, this was a good book with noticeable flaws. If I'd picked it up when I was younger, I don't think I'd have noticed these as much. The book was short enough that I breezed through it anyway, though, and I think it might resonate well with the right audience.
Find this review and more at The Fantasy Inn
The Ikessar Falcon skillfully interweaves complex character arcs, intricate worldbuilding, and political intrigue with an epic plot that doesn't relent.
One of the central themes in this book is family. Talyien, Queen of Oren-yaro, may have fallen from grace and uncovered an evil plot that could completely change the face of multiple nations.
And yet, the beating, bloody heart of the story is the journey of Talyien, daughter of dreaded warlord and mother to the next king. She strives to live up to her father's expectations while slowly coming to terms with seeing him as both a monster and a man. And even though her quest to return home is largely about saving her nation from a mad sorcerer, saving her son is the foremost thing on her mind at all times.
Bypassing the dreaded “second book slump,” Villoso has managed to write a second book jump. All the character work and personal focus from the previous book is still there, but the plot explodes into one of epic scale. Magic zombies, ghosts with a habit of possessing people, and insane dragons all play a key role. The Wolf of Oren-yaro pulled the rug out from under me, twisting my expectations of what the story was actually about. Somehow, this book manages to pull that off again.
Readers of The Agartes Epilogues will be happy to see several easter eggs throughout the story. Certain characters (and boats!) make an appearance, and the infamous Agartes is even mentioned once or twice. For everyone else: don't worry. No prior knowledge is needed.
I want to point out just how great the cover art is. The dragon insanity is readily apparent, and the stylized art technique sets this cover apart from many others in the genre. The subtle shift in perspective showing Talyien from behind feels symbolic of both her return home and attempt to deal with her past. And the colors...well, I could go on and on. Suffice it to say that artist and writer Ash Navarre knocked this one out of the park!
All in all, this was a fantastic read that left me eagerly awaiting for The Xiaran Mongrel next year!
Many trilogies experience a “second book slump”, where the story lags between the grand opening of the first book and the epic conclusion of the third. Not so for Grey Sister.
The book picks up three years after the conclusion of Red Sister. Nona is now in Mystic class, though most of her friends are still in Grey. She's changed a great deal since the ranging where she first walked the Path and is struggling with containing her rage.
We finally get to learn more about the Grey Sisters (shocking, I know), and they more than live up to their reputation as masters of discretion. Nona tends to take more of a brute force approach to problem-solving, and this leads to some interesting situations.
There are two main things that make this book stand out from its predecessor. First, Lawrence explores the lore of the world in greater depth. Who are the Missing? Where do the devils that infested Raymel Tacsis come from? What the heck is a ship heart? Don't expect to have everything just explained to you, but there are a lot of answers revealed. Secondly, the scope of the story expands. We're no longer confined to the convent, or even limited to just Nona's point of view. Through some creative narrative devices, we're able to see through the eyes of side characters firsthand.
Grey Sister is not without flaws. Interesting characters were set aside for nearly the entire book, intimidating villains made some questionably effective choices, and some scenes were written to intentionally obscure subtleties from the reader rather than letting them figure things out for themselves. That said, most of my concerns with the book were minor and could likely be considered positives by another reader.
Overall, this was a strong follow-up to Red Sister. Readers who enjoyed the first book will be in for a treat.
Thank you to Netgalley for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Ten Reasons Why Red Sister is My Favorite Mark Lawrence Book Yet
1. Unlike his Broken Empire and Red Queen's War trilogies, this series is set in a world that feels uniquely original and distinctive from our own. The sun is dying, and its left the world entirely covered in ice, except for a narrow band of livable land around the equator.
2. For the first time, I was able to see Lawrence try his hand at a detailed magic system with clear rules and costs. Which makes sense, considering this is a “magic school” series. For those of you that prefer your magic mysterious, worry not: there's enough left unknown to keep things from ever becoming predictable.
3. Speaking of magic schools, Red Sister sidesteps many of the traditional pitfalls of magic schools, avoiding info-dumps by teaching us new aspects of magic through thwarted assassinations, political scheming, and bloody fights between rival students.
4. As always, the prose is beautiful. If you thought the opening lines were awesome (and they are!), the rest of the book will absolutely not disappoint.
5. Red Sister has all of Lawrence's characteristic flair for darkness, but this time he drops the “grim.”
6. Yes, there's a chosen one. No, it's not the main character.
7. There's a prophecy. Some people believe it, some don't. Everyone tries to twist it to their own advantage.
8. There's a deep cast of characters, with even the tertiary characters feeling fleshed-out and alive. I cared more for the lead characters in Red Sister than I have in past Lawrence series, and I hated the villains with a passion I normally reserved for Robin Hobb's antagonists. Plus, Lawrence lays to rest the question of whether he can right compelling women. Spoiler alert: he can!
9. Going against the tried-and-true adventure nature of its predecessors, Red Sister is almost entirely set in one location. This never gets boring.
10. Red Sister feels like something new and special, even by the high standards Mark Lawrence established in his previous books. It strikes an ideal balance between light and dark, making this a book that will appeal to many readers who thought Lawrence's other books too bleak.
The Great Hearts is the first book in a new series by David Oliver that blends grimdark, a magic school, and a touch of sci-fi into an epic coming-of-age story.
When he was just eleven years old, Calidan's village was massacred during the summoning of a demon. He and his friend Cassius were the only ones to escape, fleeing into the woods. Soon after, they befriend a lone tracker who helps them learn to survive on their own, and Cassius bonds with an enormous black panther named Seya.
Seya is one of the Great Hearts, giant beasts who can live for hundreds of years and passed into legend so long ago that most don't even know they exist. As he grows to learn more about Seya, Calidan finds himself on the path to becoming a great warrior.
All of this is told as a memory from the perspective of a Calidan who is much older. Together, present-day Calidan and Cassius are on a dangerous mission to track down and kill the demon that was raised in their village.
Oliver's writing flows smoothly and is easy to digest, featuring the occasional poetic turn of phrase. The book moves fairly quickly, with a bit of a slowdown in pacing from about the 50% - 80% mark.
The author narrates the audio version of the book himself. I was pleasantly surprised to find that he did an excellent job. While not the most technically perfect of audio narrations, each character had a distinct voice, the pacing fit the book, and the narration managed to convey emotional subtleties.
In general, I found this book to be excellent, with a few stumbles along the way. There are a four or five great ideas combined into one book, where two or three might help it to find its target audience.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this from the author in exchange for heartfelt bacon poetry.
One of the first things that stands out about The Half Killed is the sense of atmosphere. And I don't mean physical atmosphere, though the vivid descriptions of a deadly heat wave tearing through Victorian London paint an ominous picture of the story's setting. Olson is a skilled wordsmith, using language to instill an ever-present sense of dread as the story unfolds. We don't just see the underlying horror; we feel it along with the characters.
The story is told through the eyes of Dorothea Hawes, one of the few actual psychics in London. When we first meet her, she's a bit of a recluse, still recovering from a tragic accident during her youth. She's sworn off using her abilities as a psychic, as well as the society of fake psychics who'd love to take advantage of her. That is, until she meets Chissick, a charming gentleman who enlists Dorothea's assistance in solving a string of grisly murders.
All of this is filtered through a stylized prose that enriches the story. Things kick off with a jarring, second-person prologue that intentionally leaves you reeling, wondering what the hell just happened. From there, the first-person narration roots you in Dorothea's struggle, while still withholding just enough information to keep you guessing.
Target Audience
People who enjoy:
Gaslamp FantasyGothic horror
Murder mysteriesDescriptive and poetic prose
For those of you who've followed the series so far, the last book ended on a pretty major cliffhanger. Well, maybe cliffhanger isn't the best word for it. The story didn't end abruptly or challenge the characters with a ridiculous life-or-death situation for the sake of suspense. Because really, when do those types of cliffhangers ever not work out for the protagonists? Instead, Wexler ends book 4 with the natural culmination of a major character arc. We're left wondering: what will Janus do next?
The Infernal Battalion addresses this right from page one. The interludes that are normally reserved for villain POVs kick off with none other than—you guessed it—Janus. This perspective comes as a long-awaited treat, since readers have been left guessing at Janus's true intentions for the entire series thus far.
The satisfaction of seeing things from Janus's perspective shouldn't come as much of a surprise. One of Wexler's greatest strengths throughout this series is his characters. Even on the surface, the characters are fascinating: the female soldier who disguises herself as a man to join the army, then slowly works her way up through the ranks; the chivalrous general who must come to terms with his worldview being somewhat outdated; the mysterious genius with unknown motives; the reluctant queen who's secretly immortal.
Going further, all of these main characters have an enormous depth to them, a complexity that includes conflicting hopes and dreams, significant flaws, and constant growth. And that's not just limited to the POV characters. Few series can juggle such an expansive cast of side characters while making them all distinct and interesting. Even better, many of these amazing characters are women with real agency in the story who never feel as though they are cardboard cutouts of the stereotypical “strong female character.”
For those of you who enjoy audiobooks, Richard Poe does a stellar job with this series. He's somewhat underrated, but he was a perfect fit for The Shadow Campaigns. He pulls off both male and female voices convincingly and has enough range that different characters never run together. It's obvious that he reads the books prior to narrating them and uses this knowledge to add the appropriate nuances. Also, there's just something about his voice that complements military fantasy perfectly.
The biggest question for incoming readers is likely: does Wexler pull it off? Does the buildup of the last four books come to a satisfying conclusion? Yes, and hell yes.