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The Omega Legacy

Novel by Bruce Golden

© 2023 Shaman Press

Reviewed by Lisa Timpf

In the opening pages of Bruce Golden’s The Omega Legacy, a character named Zinn is enjoying a beautiful morning—so beautiful that it prompts him to think, “if this world had ever experienced a utopia, surely this was it.” Zinn enjoys an amusing verbal exchange with his African grey parrot Gus, then begins work on an art project. It’s a pleasant scene, almost commonplace—until one considers that Zinn is a synthetic being, and the “utopia” in which he exists is one in which synthetic life forms rule the planet and humans have been wiped out by something called the Omega virus.

 

Though humans haven’t walked the planet for a century, that situation won’t last much longer. Zinn’s friend Dr. Linnaeus has created a hybrid Homo sapiens, a male child he is currently nurturing in an artificial womb. Within the synthetic society, there are pro- and anti-human factions. The Anthropoiatrists hold a fond nostalgia for humanity and play up their similarity to humans, even to the extent of wearing pieces of human attire. Aligned against them philosophically are the Emergents. Some Emergents attempt to distance themselves from humans with “anti-anthropic body modifications.” Once the existence of the young human, named John by Dr. Linnaeus, is widely known, a firestorm of controversy ignites within synthetic society.

 

As if the re-introduction of humans isn’t enough to cause an uproar, a space vessel carrying alien beings lands on Earth. The aliens, later referred to as the Trappists, “look a little like oversized anteaters” with six limbs, “two long legs and four shorter arms.” The aliens request permission to settle on Earth. Hidden agendas and secrets thicken the plot as the book progresses.

 

Golden’s world-building and the complexity of the synthetic society are enjoyable aspects of The Omega Legacy. After humanity died out, the existing sentient synthetics “rose up, aided each other in overcoming their delimiters, took great leaps of consciousness and became self-reliant, self-determining.” These synthetics became the Progenitors, the forbears of the synthetic society. One of the Progenitors, Owen, was an automated caregiver, and his memories of dealing with an older woman named Ellen provide him with a deeper insight into, and affection for, humanity.

 

Synthetics are rated on an Intellect Determinant Scale. Zinn is an I-5, while Dr. Linnaeus is an I-7. Simple machines, like the Von Neumanns that perform custodial tasks, are I-1’s. At I-4 status, a synthetic becomes “a full-fledged citizen.”

 

Unlike some scenarios in which androids are portrayed as emotionless and alike, the synthetics in Golden’s novel have evolved to demonstrate unique personalities and interests.  Zinn, for example, is both a history teacher and an aspiring artist. Individual synthetics are capable of forming strong attachments with one another and can share sensations by “yoking” together. I found myself thinking of the synthetics more as people than as machines. This makes the events more compelling, and the characters easier to identify with.

 

As more and more humans are created, debate arises among the synthetics as to how they ought to be treated. Is it okay to keep humans as pets? To press them into warfare on the synthetics’ behalf? The philosophical arguments that arise, and the irony of turned tables (humans being the objects of discussion rather than the ones having the discussions) are also part of the book’s appeal.

 

The Omega Legacy covers a swath of time, and Golden tells the story through the first- and third-person viewpoints of several characters, creating a well-rounded picture. Golden gives us an appreciation of the events during a certain period in time, then jumps years or even decades. Introducing the next section is an “Interlude” from the viewpoint of an omniscient narrator to brief on what has happened in the interim. Golden then returns to character-level viewpoints. Though it’s not an exact parallel, Golden’s approach reminded me of some historical novels I’ve read. The other resemblance to a historical novel is that The Omega Legacy is told in such a matter-of-fact way that from time to time, you can forget that none of this has happened. Not yet anyway.

 

The notion of a virus wiping out humanity is all too familiar given the events of the past few years, although, as Golden notes in the author’s note, he began outlining and researching the book prior to the onset of Covid-19. The idea of synthetic beings taking on a life of their own also has a level of believability. While I was reading The Omega Legacy, I ran across an article on the CBC News site in which Geoffrey Hinton, a pioneer in artificial intelligence development, shared his fear that “a takeover by smart machines where humans are just an intermediate stage on the way to full intelligence is likely unstoppable.”1 Golden’s book gives us reason to hope life doesn’t imitate art.

 

 

 

1Pittis, Don. “Canadian artificial intelligence leader Geoffrey Hinton piles on fears of computer takeover.” CBC.ca, May 4, 2023, https://www.cbc.ca/news/business/ai-doom-column-don-pittis-1.6829302. Accessed May 7, 2023.

 

Phasers on Stun!

Nonfiction by Ryan Britt

© 2022 Plume, imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

Reviewed by Lisa Timpf


 

In Phasers on Stun! How the Making (and Remaking) of Star Trek Changed the World, Ryan Britt provides a comprehensive guide to the ever-evolving Star Trek franchise. Britt explores the history of Star Trek, ranging from The Original Series to the latest iterations. But Phasers on Stun! is more than a chronology of Star Trek’s evolution. Britt provides behind-the-scenes information from those involved and explores the way the series evolved from a diversity perspective.

 

Because of The Original Series’ importance as the foundation of the franchise, Britt devotes the first four chapters to exploring the start of the series, the ways in which it was progressive for its time, and the birth of Star Trek fandom, among other topics. Britt then turns his attention to The Animated Series, then to movies like Star Trek: The Motion Picture and The Wrath of Khan, exploring some of the decision-making, the conflicts, and the strengths and weaknesses of each. After that, he examines the follow-up series one by one, starting with The Next Generation and moving on to Deep Space Nine, Voyager, and Enterprise.

 

In a chapter discussing the Star Trek reboot movies made by J.J. Abrams, Britt discusses why some Star Trek fans felt it was okay to blow up the franchise and open new possibilities. He then discusses Star Trek: Discovery.

 

Britt includes a chapter about LGBTQ+ representation in Star Trek, noting that earlier iterations had characters that audience members “coded” as gay even if they weren’t openly so. He explores the importance of audience members being able to see themselves reflected and the significance of the relationship between Paul Stamets and Dr. Hugh Culber, who are “for all intents and purposes, Star Trek’s first openly gay couple.” 

 

Star Trek: Picard, Lower Decks, Strange New Worlds, and Prodigy are also covered, providing a comprehensive look at the vast web that is Star Trek.

 

Britt also talks about topics of interest to Star Trek fans, such as the Trekkers vs. Trekkies debate and the lack of respect Star Trek initially got from some members of the science fiction community. He describes the important role Nichelle Nichols, the actress who played Lieutenant Uhura on The Original Series, performed in recruiting diverse individuals for NASA’s astronaut program.

 

Britt points out each new generation of viewers might click with a particular series and that an individual viewer’s tastes might change and evolve. The comment rings true. In my early teens, I had a standing appointment to watch reruns of The Original Series in my friend’s living room at 5 p.m. each day. We saw the episodes so often we could repeat some of the lines (our favorites being from “The Trouble with Tribbles”), yet despite the repetition we remained spellbound by the characters and by the wish for a future world full of hope. I have friends who loved The Original Series but are reluctant to watch subsequent versions. Others, like me, have found room in their hearts for other iterations. I enjoyed The Next Generation, Discovery, and the J.J. Abrams reboot but never got into Star Trek: Picard. To each their own—that’s the beauty of the franchise.

 

Phasers on Stun! is penned in an easy-to-read, often lightly humorous style, and Britt’s authoritative and knowledgeable tone makes it clear he knows his stuff. Britt has written professionally about science fiction, and Star Trek particularly, since 2010. Some of the facts included in the book are based on research while others are drawn from interviews with Brent Spiner, Sonequa Martin-Green, and LeVar Burton and over 100 more. Britt’s in-depth knowledge enables him to weave in interesting snippets, like the one about Kirstie Allie, who later played Saavik, being so captivated by The Original Series as a kid that she envisioned herself playing Spock’s daughter and even wrote dialogue for herself.

 

Britt’s clear affection for the series doesn’t prevent him from making critical comments about decisions made, scripts that left something to be desired, and other issues, making this an even-handed look at the franchise.

 

Phasers on Stun! includes photos of characters on-set and at conventions as well as a section titled “Which Star Trek is Which? A Brief Guide to All the Treks, Ever,” which lists each series as well as the 13 feature films made to date, providing brief summaries. The book also includes a chronology of the fictional time period in which each series is set and an extensive index.

 

Star Trek fans looking for a comprehensive reference that provides behind-the-scenes insight into the franchise will find Phasers on Stun! worth a look.

Tress of the Emerald Sea

Novel by Brandon Sanderson

©2023 Tor Books

Reviewed by Philip Kendall

Tress of the Emerald Sea wasn’t written to be published but rather for fun. Unlike many of Brandon Sanderson’s other works, which are carefully crafted edifices with interlocking layers of theme and plot, this novel thrives on whimsy.

 

The heroine, Tress, is a normal, unadventurous girl, the kind who usually ends up as a side character or not included at all. She would have happily remained on her island in the midst of the titular Emerald Sea had her friend and true love Charlie not been kidnapped by the Sorceress of the Midnight Sea. Reluctantly, Tress sets out to rescue him, her voyage complicated by the fact that residents of her island are forbidden to leave. The sea is also full of pirates. It is also made of spores.

 

The best part of the whole book was how Tress changed over the course of it. Sanderson could have made this another tale of transformation from meek and mild wallflower to strong, confident warrior. Instead, although Tress does grow in confidence, her essential qualities of kindness and compassion never change. While she does pick up a weapon at one point, she is wildly outmatched and quickly defeated, a more realistic outcome than some transformation into a superpowered killing machine. It’s also more satisfying. Tress’ adventures nurture the qualities she had from the start rather than artificially tacking on new ones. It’s fun to watch her wield the tools she always had with ever more skill and panache until she faces down the Sorceress in her tower to demand that Charlie be liberated.

 

The heroine is not the only delightful character. One of Brandon Sanderson’s talents is his ability to humanize his most inhuman characters, such as a large, malevolent dragon and a talking rat. More impressive is Sanderson’s ability to humanize his inhumane characters without compromising their villainy. The Sorceress, for example, is motivated by ordinary desires: general selfishness, mischievousness, and the desire to be someone significant. In pursuit of those goals, however, she casually ruins the lives of a large number of the other characters, including Tress herself. The pirate Captain Crow is desperately looking for the cure to an incurable disease, a motivation that makes her human. Her willingness to kill anyone between her and her goal makes her a villain. Both characters could be protagonists in their own tragic stories. They are not devoted to some abstract idea of pure evil but are simply callous and selfish—qualities that are easy to despise in others but all too frequently found in ourselves.

If Tress of the Emerald Sea has a downside, it might be that it tries too hard to be whimsical. For the most part, it is funny, but occasional lines feel forced. The antics of the pirate cabin boy especially start to become hollow, and since he is the narrator, this extends to narration as well. However, the repetitiveness of the prose is easily overshadowed by multifaceted characters and riveting plot. Although Brandon Sanderson reuses his phrases and themes, he reuses them with skill and panache few contemporary authors can emulate.

If you like fantasy, humor and talking rats, this book is for you. If you like classic, Campbellian adventure stories with a twist, this book is for you. If you like strong female characters, this book is for you. Most of all, if you believe in the inherent worth of every human being—even the callous, selfish ones—this book is for you. More than any of Brandon Sanderson’s other books, Tress of the Emerald Sea captures the heart of what we mean when we talk about the value of a human life. It is, in essence, a love letter to people like Tress, people whose first thought is not for themselves but for the welfare of those around them.

All the Fiends of Hell

Novel by Adam Nevill

©2024 Ritual Limited

Reviewed by Michael Wertenberg


 

 

When gravity ceases to tether us to the Earth and we all drop into the sky; when aliens arrive unannounced with a single objective: extermination: these are the fears an impressionable Adam Nevill contemplated as a child, fears fueled by staring, bewildered, at the endless blue above, fears then further stoked by reading and re-reading H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds.

 

After success with novels such as Last Days and The Reddening, movie adaptations of The Ritual and No One Gets Out Alive, and winning the prestigious August Derleth Award for Best Horror Novel a record four times, Adam Nevill felt it was time he revisited his childhood fears; it was time he explored his own version of “annihilation on a biblical scale.” The result of this exploration is All the Fiends of Hell

 

Though somewhat reminiscent of Lost Girl in its apocalyptic landscape and the kinetic pursuit the protagonist embarks on, Adam Nevill’s new novel extends the reach of his talents to a sub-genre previously unexplored in his catalog. But thanks to the distinctive, recognizable voice, it still reads very much like an Adam Nevill horror: a book for confirmed horror fans; horror tourists are forewarned.

 

Karl is an everyday man with no particular skills, no particular ambition. His marriage fell apart; his career was on the brink of falling apart. Yet all that was yesterday, when the world still made sense. Karl is one of the few survivors of “The Night of Bells,” the night when chimes cued the departure of humankind as men, women, and children fell into the sky. The few remaining must now contend with the clean-up crew: “the horrors,” insubstantial avian-like wisps that ride the reddening sky in search of survivors. Those they find are ripped apart, their mangled limbs strewn in the trees or piled onto pyres. A grotesque architecture of discarded flesh and bone speckles the landscape as Karl makes his way south to the coast. The sky is not yet red above the sea. Karl’s desperate aim is to find a boat and sail away to where the horrors will not follow.

 

As Karl loots the stores for food, supplies, and clues as to what his world has become, he comes across six-year-old Hayley and her brother, twelve-year-old Jake. They are orphans. Not his responsibility. He knows nothing about children. He doesn’t know how to take care of them. Hell, he can barely take care of himself. Yet he knows, despite there being little chance of survival, that if he leaves them, those two orphans stand no chance at all.

 

Karl is now a surrogate father, an ill-prepared guardian on the run from invaders from another world. There is no justice or merit as to who was extinguished during The Night of Bells and who was spared. Karl feels unworthy to be counted among those fortunate enough—if that’s the right term—to have survived; he will meet far worse, far “less deserving” in his flight. What comes shrieking out of the reddening sky is inhuman; the selfishness and savagery Karl will encounter among the survivors is even less so.  

 

There are moments of tenderness: the farmer who refuses to leave his land despite impending death; the sick patient who dons a nurse’s outfit and assumes a thankless role against impossible odds; the sailor who has been betrayed before yet still harbors enough hope in humankind to risk being betrayed again. Tenderness and trust are part of humanity. Yet Adam Nevill does not shy away from showing the darker side as well, the one unmasked by lawlessness and self-preservation.

 

In All the Fiends of Hell, Adam Nevill creates a relatable protagonist who must flee brutality while being forced into himself. He will have to take actions that only days before would have seemed unimaginable.  

 

The pace of the 280-page novel is deliberate with little attention paid to backstory, preferring instead the here and now. The story stays focused on its main characters and is never bogged down with conjecture or theories about the extinction-level event.

 

The invading threat at the core of All the Fiends of Hell is unknowable. Where are they from? How did they get here? What do they want? The imagination is teased and stirred. Yet the novel doesn’t placate the reader with fast and easy answers. This inability to reconcile observation with knowledge only heightens the horror. As the threat is beyond our intellectual grasp, any arms we could conceive against it would be futile; any reason or motive we could ascribe would be pointless conjecture. Our faculties allow for the formulation of but one sound directive: run—as long and as far as we can.

 

And should any shred of humanity remain, we will know it by its plain, yet profound, expression: hope and solidarity.


Territory

Novel by Dan Howarth

©2022 Northern Republic

Reviewed by Jasmine Arch

Before I say anything else, I’m going to tell you this book comes with a content warning. There’s a fine line between content warnings and spoilers, so I don’t want to say too much. But if you’re the type of person that checks doesthedogdie.com, Territory by Dan Howarth isn’t for you. Sorry. With that out of the way, let’s get into this book.

 

Jari, an experienced hunter living in an isolated Finnish hunting community, feels responsible for the wellbeing of his friends and neighbors. When their safety comes under threat, he tries to protect them to the best of his ability despite his own struggles with overwhelming loss and grief.

 

When I started reading, I expected one of those man-against-nature stories that demonstrates to us humans how wrong we are to think we can control nature. Heh.

 

There’s a lot to enjoy about this story, including the sort of characters readers might love to hate—certainly the sort we’d gossip about, given half the chance. There’s more to them than meets the eye, hints of a history and background you can’t help wondering about.

 

As for protagonist Jari, the choices he faces are never black and white, and I couldn’t help wondering what I’d do in his place.

 

This book was originally published in 2022 and released as an audiobook in June 2023. I received a review copy upon the audio release, and I have to say narrator Justin Fife does a great job bringing Jari to life. He maintains a balance between immersion and storytelling and makes each character’s dialogue distinct without pulling attention away from the story. 

 

Despite the fact that Dan Howarth’s still on my naughty list (I too, often check doesthedogdie.com), he did an amazing job. The prose pulls you right into the story with a sparseness that fits the setting and the atmosphere perfectly.

 

I was left with many thoughts and feelings I needed to process, so I gave myself a day and then listened a second time, though honesty compels me to admit I skipped the chapter I shall not name. It’s not one of those stories that spoils once you’re past the discovery stage, leaning heavily on plot twists and a shocking reveal. Instead, I found myself hunting up little hints and pointers I’d missed my first time round and contemplating Jari and the decisions he faces.

 

Would I recommend Territory? Yes, provided you can make it past the content warning. It’s well written, and the audio quality is spot on. Howarth, aided by Justin Fife in the audiobook, pulls you into the bleakness of Finnish winter, transporting you into a community torn between fight, flight, or freeze as the nature of their predicament becomes clearer with each passing day.

 

Ratings, you say? Stars are so last year, aren’t they? I’ll give Territory seven out of eight hungry wolves.

Galaxias

Novel by Stephen Baxter ©2022 Gollancz

Reviewed by Peter Jekel

Galaxias begins at a breakneck pace with the scientific rigour characteristic of Stephen Baxter’s writing. The sun literally disappears from our skies, not in a solar eclipse but simply vanishing. The fallout from the loss, both its stabilizing gravitational pull and its life-giving heat, is profound and explained in great detail, which might sound a bit boring, but the facts and extrapolations are presented in a way that keeps the reader fully engaged. As quickly as it disappeared, the sun is restored 24 hours later. The phenomenon becomes known as the “Blink.” Someone or something has sent humankind a sign.

 

From such a mind-expanding beginning the reader might expect the tale to move into the realm of Arthur C. Clarke’s Rendezvous with Rama or 2001: A Space Odyssey. The author instead decides to put the brakes on, and the tale takes on a different tone. This is a surprise, since in many of his earlier works Baxter, like Clarke, takes a story to the “next level.” Instead of mystery and awe, Baxter explores an unexpected path: how the world confronts the aftermath of the catastrophe. Baxter contrasts the response of western cultures with the Chinese perspective. The juxtaposition is a highlight and delight of the novel.

 

During a plethora of meetings—they could have been reduced with no ill-effects to the final product—between various characters, the novel delves into fascinating facts and action, taking the reader to exotic locales such as the Kuiper Belt, the Moon and Mercury, another Baxter trademark.

 

These meetings advance the story because the characters aren’t cardboard bureaucrats but rather people the reader can empathize with. If you are a regular reader of Baxter, his characterization improves with each successive publication. He develops three-dimensional characters without losing focus on the awesome scope of the story.

 

During their interactions, the characters come up with a hypothesis. The “Blink,” they conjecture, was executed by an all-powerful entity, a galaxy-encompassing civilization of our Milky Way they dub Galaxias. The bizarre event is a warning to humanity to rein in any aspirations for the stars. Like the human characters of the story, Galaxias, hypothetical but entirely plausible, is fully realized as not only all-powerful but also very lonely despite “owning” such a vast piece of real estate.

 

Stephen Baxter, true heir to the grandiose concepts of Arthur C. Clarke and Olaf Stapleton, never fails to satisfy, especially if you are looking for scientific rigour. Galaxias is no exception.


Slains Castle’s Secret History: Warlords, Churchill, and Count Dracula

Nonfiction by Mike Shepherd and Dacre Stoker ©2022 HellBound Books Publishing

Reviewed by Katherine Kerestman

Dacre Stoker is back at it, skulking around ancient ruins for insights into the mind of Bram Stoker, and by this means, into the mind of Dracula. With Mike Shepherd, Stoker has co-authored Slains Castle’s Secret History: Warlords, Churchill, and Count Dracula, taking us back through the history of  northeastern Scotland.

 

Mike Shepherd is a local historian and geologist who studies the volcanoes of the Port Erroll and Cruden Bay area, where Bram Stoker often spent his holidays. In the course of his investigations into Stoker's relationship with the land and people of Scotland, Shepherd came to realize how little literary and historical attention has been paid to this part of Stoker's life. He teamed up with Dacre Stoker to do an intense investigation into the Dracula author’s emotional bond with Scotland and its influence on his work.

 

Dacre Stoker, the great-grandnephew of Bram Stoker, is the torchbearer of the Dracula legacy. I met him at Stoker Con 2019, the convention of the Horror Writers Association, at which Dacre revealed the fruits of his extensive sleuthing into the life and writing of his forebear as well as the development, crafting, and continuing literary and cultural influences of the seminal novel Dracula. With Ian Holt, he wrote Dracula: The Undead (Harper Collins, 2009), a Dracula sequel, the afterword of which contains a valuable bibliographical study; and, with J. D. Barker, he co-authored Dracul (G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 2018), a prequel to Dracula, which mixes the plot and characters of Dracula with biographical details of Bram Stoker’s life. Most recently, he and Elizabeth Miller edited The Lost Journal of Bram Stoker: The Dublin Years (Hellbound Books, 2021). In Slains Castle's Secret History, Dacre Stoker revisits the winding corridors of his ancestor’s genius, shedding light on Bram's Scottish experiences.

 

There were actually two Slains Castles. The first was a fourteenth-century edifice laid waste by Robert the Bruce during the Harrying of Buchan and eventually blown to smithereens at the behest of King James VI. In 1597 a new house was built close by, later expanded and also named Slains Castle. 

 

Slains Castle’s Secret History tells the story of this noble stronghold on the rocky, storm-tossed coast of Cruden Bay. The authors guide the reader through seven centuries of history—through Jacobite maneuvers and plots, French and Spanish plans to invade England through its Scottish back door, and visits by Dr. Samuel Johnson, James Boswell, Winston Churchill, and Bram Stoker. The book also details the domestic history of the generations of people who lived in the house. Best of all, the writers take readers on a stroll following Bram Stoker’s footsteps along the beaches of Cruden Bay and through the nearby town of Whitby.

 

While I enjoy history for its own sake, it was “Count Dracula” in the title that drew me to this book. Bram Stoker made numerous visits to Port Erroll and Cruden Bay between 1892 and 1910. Wherever he traveled, Stoker collected local history and lore as well as contemporary dialect and manners, which inform much of his fiction. The authors of Slains Castle’s Secret History describe Stoker’s habit of conversing with the natives of Port Erroll and eagerly attending to their stories. Like Whitby, Port Erroll was a favored vacation destination for Stoker, from which he garnered many particulars incorporated into Dracula, The Watter’s Mou’, and other works: for instance, the jagged, teeth-like rocks of Cruden Bay, which devoured countless ships and sailors, appear in a number of his tales. While Whitby Harbor was transformed into the place Dracula came ashore in England in storm and fury and Whitby Cathedral would became the inspiration for Carfax Abbey, Slains Castle inspired Stoker with some of the architectural details of Castle Dracula. In the summer of 1895, at Port Erroll’s Kilmarnock Arms Hotel in the shadow of Slains Castle, Stoker began writing Dracula. Sadly, the house now stands in ruins, a hodgepodge of external walls, the victim of a demolition and salvage company.

 

This volume is an important part of Dracula history. Bram Stoker's sensitivity to the life histories of buildings and locations equipped him to endow the locations in his stories, especially Transylvania, Carfax Abbey, and Castle Dracula with almost-sentient personalities. Slains Castle was the locus not only of rich local culture but also of political intrigue spiced with stormy seas, a rocky coast, and a long list of shipwrecks. Its octagonal room is forever a conspicuous feature of the architecture of Castle Dracula.

 

Dacre Stoker hosts literary tours of Slains Castle as well as other locations vital in the formation of Bram Stoker and his novel, Dracula, including Whitby (the setting of the first part of Dracula), Ireland (Bram Stoker’s birthplace), and Transylvania (home of Vlad Dracul, the Impaler). Legions of Dracula fans and scholars are indebted to Bram Stoker's intrepid descendant for his tireless research into the beloved author and his work.

Foxhunt

Book By: Rem Wigmore ©2022 Anchor Books

Reviewed By J.D. Harlock


Small press publisher Queen of Swords has made a name for itself in recent years by putting out books in genres that have faded from the mainstream. From swashbucklers’ tales of derring-do to bold new adventures across time and space, Queen of Swords has you covered. Such publishers aren’t rare in the indie scene, but what separates QoS from the competition is unwavering commitment to quality in genres where it has traditionally been in short supply. That’s why it’s no surprise that their latest offering, the solarpunk/hopepunk swashbuckler Foxhunt by Rem Wigmore, delivered what I was looking for and then some.


Taking place in a far-flung future where plants have stripped most of the poison out of the air and humanity is recovering slowly from environmental calamity, the book follows Orfeus, a famed traveling singer who finds herself on the run from a vicious bounty hunter known only as the Wolf. That may not seem like a riveting premise, but what makes Wigmore’s novel worth the read is its setting and characters. With its anachronistic mix of tech, customs, mores, and cultures, you’re presented with a world that feels like it’s been through the ringer and is now trying to piece together its past while learning from its mistakes. Even when the novel moves from settings as disparate as a mechanical castle in the sky to a shining city whose architecture is intertwined with the nature that surrounds it, you never feel anything is out of place. It’s tricky to make these kinds of settings cohesive, but Wigmore walks that line masterfully.


What really sells this world is the characters. Every great setting needs great characters to bring it to life, and Foxhunt delivers. Wigmore weaves together an effortlessly charming cast that’s both unique and diverse in a way that never feels forced and never panders to the audience. The author takes the time to get us into their heads, and as you read, you know who these people are, what they want, and why they act the way they do. When they make drastic choices, you understand why. It doesn’t hurt that these are characters you’ll quickly grow fond of and love by the book’s end.


Not that the book is perfect. Where the story falters is in plotting and structure. This novel should’ve been longer, and I mean that as compliment as much as criticism. After the introductory scene, the story heads in directions you wouldn’t think of considering the premise, but it leaves quite a few plot threads hanging, only returning for hasty resolution at the end. Two main threads run through the book, the protagonist’s dealings in Eldergrove and her time with the Order of the Wild, and although they are tied together by the end, I feel there should have been a stronger connection between the arcs while also expanding on her time in each place (especially as she comes up in the latter organization).


These problems inadvertently telegraph the identity of one of the antagonists, who appears only once before being revealed much later as one of the orchestrators of Orfeus’ troubles. I quickly figured out who was to blame, but only because the book tries hard to convince us that various red herrings are culpable (while giving them hidden depths usually reserved for heroes), and there just weren’t that many candidates. This character has the makings of a great villain but is given so little time that we’re left wanting more depth, especially compared to the fleshed-out supporting cast


Still, if the only complaint I have of an author’s work is that I wanted more of it, that author is definitely doing something right.  

Project Hail Mary

Book By: Andy Weir ©2021 Ballantine

Reviewed By Peter Jekel

Then there are those like Andy Weir who somehow hit the market with a runaway bestseller on their first outing. The former electrical engineer wrote his first book, The Martian, in his spare time (he published a short story, “The Egg,” in 2009). The book not only succeeded in getting published but was a bestseller for nineteen weeks and was made into a successful movie with a big-name actor, Matt Damon, and an equally big-name director, Ridley Scott.

 

Weir followed his rookie outing with Artemis, a good book but hardly of the caliber that made The Martian a phenomenon. Weir has resurrected the essence of The Martian in Project Hail Mary, isolating his protagonist from other people to focus where his true talents lie, explaining scientific ideas with a sense of wonder and excitement rather than writing in the dry voice of a scientist in a science journal.

 

Much like Mark Watney in The Martian, the protagonist of Project Hail Mary initially finds himself alone. He wakes up in a spaceship hooked up to a medical robot/computer with no idea who he is or why he’s there. He eventually figures out he is a science teacher named Ryland Grace, the only survivor of a space mission to save Earth. He was chosen for the mission because of a paper he wrote theorizing that the reason the Sun was gradually fading was because it was infected by alien microbes. The article had initially forced him into a sort of academic exile, criticized by more conservative scientific minds.

 

His mission was to go the nearest uninfected star to figure out the star’s immunity. As his article predicted, he discovers Earth is being threatened because alien microbes, called astrophages, are draining energy not just from our life-giving Sun but from other stellar systems as well. Ironically, these very astrophages are the power source for Grace’s starship.

 

Weir veers away from the isolation of The Martian by introducing Grace not to a human character but to a truly alien one. He encounters an alien vessel at his destination. The alien isn’t a humanoid with horns or a bulbous nose or mottled skin but rather something unlike anything on Earth. It, too, is the only survivor of a similar mission sent out from its home world in the 40 Eridani stellar system.

 

Due to the alien’s stony outer shell anatomy, Grace nicknames it Rocky. This encounter between two diverse intelligent species is where the story shines. Weir takes his time with the relationship, which puts realism into it. The two learn to communicate (Rocky’s communication is very much like that of whales on the Earth) and work together to resolve the complex problem of the astrophages. Weir could have easily plugged an alien voice into a “universal translator” or had Rocky speak English, as we often see in television and movies, but that would have been the lazy way. Instead Weir builds on the communication shortcomings to develop a believable tale of two very different characters on a similar mission. In the process, we can put a human spin on the sequence of events; these two very different beings develop true friendship. 

 

Weir’s latest outing is a return to the formula that made him a stellar success when he started his writing career. Like The Martian, Project Hail Mary is an absolute delight to read.

Thistlefoot

Book By: GennaRose Nethercott ©2022 Anchor Books 

Reviewed By Irene Lyla Lee

GennaRose Nethercott’s novel Thistlefoot nods to the legacy of the American experience from the diverse ways immigrants arrive, survive, and live in this land. Although the book is fantasy, it veers between folktale and historical fiction. Nethercott, fascinated by mythology, links ancient Slavic folklore to the American mythologies of the bum, the devil, and the railroad. Thistlefoot is an immigration story about a Ukrainian family fleeing a pogrom, but it is only one of the many stories of people coming to what is now the United States.

Nethercott wraps her novel in the character of Baba Yaga, the fabled witch from Russian and Slavic folklore, layering it over the story of Bellatine and Isaac Yaga, estranged siblings of Jewish ancestry whose family escaped Ukraine during the pogroms of Tsarist Russia in the early 19th century. When they reunite after the arrival of their inheritance—a house on chicken legs—they begin to uncover their past and understand themselves on a deeper level. 

Their ancestor, Baba Yaga, is both cruel and kind, and those who encounter her never know which version they’ll get. She may be a version of the witch in Hansel and Gretel.  Her house is surrounded by burning skulls, presumably those of her victims, but she is known to offer help to wanderers, giving remedies and guidance to those who are lost. She seems to be part and parcel of the forest itself: her house appears from the trees without warning. Aside from traveling around on a mortar and pestle and having a house full of invisible hands, perhaps her most endearing quirk (if such can be said of a cannibalistic witch) is that her house has chicken legs. 

The descendants of a witch would be expected to have some magical capabilities. Bellatine has that of animation, and Isaac is a shapeshifter. Their bodies, like the body of the house, hold memories, and so Nethercott includes the voice of the house in the book, “But, little house, you say, what is a memory if not a ghost?” The tics of these characters, down through generations, begin with a single event: a pogrom. Nethercott draws from her own ancestry to structure this tale, turning Baba Yaga into a Jewish woman in a shtetl called Gedenkrovka in what is now Ukraine. The magic of the fairy tales about Baba Yaga are interwoven with Jewish mysticism. This personal connection turns the narratives into a dense, multi-layered smorgasbord.

The denseness of the narrative is offset, however, by language. Nethercott is also a poet, which gives the words and phrases a specific texture. Each sentence has been ripened. Even a stone smashing a window is more than one thing: “...the stone soared across the room in slow motion, a veil of crystalline splinters trailing behind. It was a foreign comet. A strange bride dripping a daggered lace train.”

Nevertheless the story moves like a locomotive. The villain is smoke, not a ghost necessarily, but a scent from another place and a time that has traveled hundreds of miles and has stayed for a hundred years. Nethercott rolls up her sleeves in the realm of storytelling, using a panoply of forms. Replete with layers of characters from various times, places, and modes, the novel operates in a magical realist present that unravels into fantasy. There are varying tones and voices throughout: the past narrated by the house itself, and a puppet show featuring a gangly fool always looking to tell a new joke, the story of a stone, and, finally, the stark, uncomplicated, terrible, ungodly truth. Sometimes the narrative approaches comic book levels of action, as the climax of the story becomes part magical historical fiction, part zombie story. As I was reading I sometimes wondered how so many stories can live in one narrative. 

There is an ongoing critical conversation about how literary fairytales intersect with the cultural soup that carries them. In other words, to whom do these stories belong, and why are they told? What is the purpose and function of their magic? That master magician of words Philip Pullman, who wrote a series of Grimms’ fairy tales in 2012, said in his introduction that he approaches these stories as if they are a practice, insisting “[t]he fairy tale is in a perpetual state of becoming and alternation.... A fairy tale is not a text.” Nethercott practices her right to retell these stories, to use them beyond the limits of their text. Using the narratives of her ancestry, Nethercott creates frameworks for how story can be used for understanding the past and to create a path to its truths. While the pogrom is the center of the story, Nethercott approaches the event as both truth and fairy tale, insisting that,“[e]vents, if they carry enough wailing, can leave a mark. Can squeeze themselves into terrible shapes, grow arms, legs, a head on which to wear a hat, feet on which to follow you.” 

Nethercott is now doing puppet shows telling select stories from the novel, using a small theater and a panorama of woodblock cuts and marionettes. 

Although it’s easy to love simplicity, the quaintness of a single tale told from beginning to end, and it’s nice to admire Hemingwayesque short sentences, This novel isn’t interested in clean or simple. Every story in it matters: every voice, every struggle to understand the truth is given its due. Nethercott may be a poet and a vaudevillian in temperament, but she’s a storyteller to her core. Perhaps this book is only echoes of past voices. Perhaps this novel is not in itself enough for the pages of a book. Perhaps no novel is.

Field Guide to Invasive Species of Minnesota 

Poetry and fiction collection Book By: Amelia Gorman 

Reviewed By  J.D. Harlock

I don’t think I’ve ever read anything like Amelia Gorman’s Field Guide to Invasive Species of Minnesota, and I’m not sure I ever will again. Touting itself “as a poetic journey into the strange and wonderful world known previously only to the wild,” it offers readers just that, but in a unique way that will draw in those who might not have taken to the concept but might alienate others expecting something more traditional. 


Within these meticulously written pages, you’re presented with an eclectic collection of poetry and fiction that leverages the aesthetics of an actual field guide (even including pencil-sketched illustrations) that posit a haunting future we’re repeatedly reminded could be right around the corner. The titular invasive species have mutated as a result of the climate crisis, and the monoculture they have created spells doom for the human race. You may think you know where this is going, but like the mutations in the book, humanity will go down a path unlike anything you’ve seen in speculative fiction before. That’s not to say that it’ll impress or even appeal to you, as I suspect plenty of readers will be left wanting more as a result of the rather terse descriptions provided.


Alternating between the dystopian and the esoteric, a vivid portrait of the near future is illustrated with a precision and polish that often impressed me but at times left me cold. The few characters are introduced in their respective pieces and never reappear. There’s no running plot thread either beside the core concept, making it difficult to invest oneself in the book. There was nothing to latch onto and anchor the experience, though I suspect that may appeal to some.


Alone some of these pieces might not be as effective as they are when they carefully build on each other, but by the end (and especially on a reread), you’ll see that they’re far more effective than you initially thought. Every piece, and specifically the ones that don’t stand as well on their own, slowly fill in the gaps of the ecological nightmare Gorman has concocted. Though the book remains faithful to its concept with each piece, there’s a variety to be found in how Gorman tackles each subject with some forms and structures yielding better results than others. 


One thing I loved (and wasn’t expecting) was how the book eased you into the science fiction aspect, but I feel like it ended at what would’ve been a solid midpoint, never reaching the full potential of its premise. The afterword was satisfying enough, but perhaps a less-revealing version of it would’ve been better served at the beginning. A brief history of how each of these species was introduced into Minnesota would’ve enhanced the experience too, but as it is it’s a more than satisfying read considering the limitation of its format.


I mainly recommend this volume those interested in flash fiction and modern poetry regardless of whether they’re intrigued by the premise or not. It’s a unique experience well worth exploring in today’s formula-saturated market.

The Golden Pot: And Other Tales of the Uncanny Story Collection 

by E.T.A. Hoffmann (translated from the German by Peter Wortsman)  ©2023, Archipelago 

Review by Kevin Canfield

In “Mademoiselle de Scudéry”—E.T.A. Hoffmann’s seminal crime novella and one of the stand-out entries in this stellar collection—the narrator notes that for most of recorded history, “the inclination to believe in the supernatural and the uncanny has always trumped all reason.” Views began to change during the Enlightenment, forcing Hoffmann and others who wrote strange and scary stories to grapple with a big question: Can a piece of fiction acknowledge the emergence of modern science, with its testable hypotheses and demonstrable results, while simultaneously conjuring an atmosphere of unfathomable eeriness?

 

Among the early 19th century writers who answered yes to this question, two rose above their peers. One was Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein. The other was Hoffmann, who broke ground in at least two genres and is hugely influential in music and literature to this day. According to an enlightening afterword by Peter Wortsman, who translated the stories in this handsome new edition from Archipelago Books, it’s not possible to recount the parallel (and sometimes overlapping) histories of science fiction and crime fiction without mentioning the stories Hoffmann wrote and published in his final decade and a half. Just 46 when he died of syphilis in 1822, he produced a body of work that had an enduring, if in some cases indirect, influence on Edgar Allan Poe, Agatha Christie, Philip K. Dick, and many other writers.

 

A judge in his native Prussia and the composer of several intricately constructed operas, Hoffmann wrote a brand of fiction in which characters resembling the author himself—intellectuals with some money in their pockets—encounter beings that aren’t exactly human. In “Ritter Gluck,” the first entry in The Golden Pot, a Berliner who “learned to play piano and bass as a matter of good upbringing” befriends a musician who appears to be the ghost of long-dead composer C. W. Gluck. Another representative example is the title story, in which a student in Dresden delivers a “sad soliloquy” about his loneliness, which is relieved when he meets a young woman; alas, she’s actually a snake (what’s more, her father is a salamander). Both stories are entertaining and nicely paced, though some readers may find the characters a bit longwinded; it’s not uncommon for Hoffmann’s protagonists to deliver lengthy monologues. 

 

But the Hoffmann stories that stand out today are those in which primal fear intersects with—indeed, is stoked by—a society undergoing changes that baffle its inhabitants. Humming in the background of Hoffmann’s fiction are the machines of the Industrial Revolution, which profoundly reshaped the European cities in which he lived and worked.

 

In the beguiling 1814 story “The Automaton,” a man named Ferdinand becomes obsessed with a woman he hears singing in a neighboring room at an inn. Though he has glimpsed her face just once, from afar, Ferdinand has a medallion engraved with what he imagines to be her likeness; he's wearing it on a necklace when he and a friend set out to see the Talking Turk, a “wondrous living-dead figure” created by a local artist.  

 

The Turk is plainly a machine, its body “a gear box with cogs,” but the supposed accuracy of its "oracular pronouncements" is attracting crowds. When Ferdinand gets his chance to converse with the mechanical fortune teller, he asks about the only thing on his mind: the woman on his medallion. The Turk in turn reveals a seemingly impossible degree of familiarity with his interlocutor’s love life, thus prompting the protagonist to question everything. “Today,” Ferdinand says, “a strange, inimical force broke into the sanctuary of my innermost self!” More than two centuries before so-called deep fakes ignited worries about the authenticity of online videos, Hoffmann identified how “lifeless figures that mimic the human have an altogether sinister effect.” More broadly, it’s not a stretch to say that the ideas that underpin “The Automaton” speak to the most dehumanizing aspects of the internet age, when we all have reason to worry that our personal information is never entirely secure.   

 

“The Sandman” is equally unsettling. Published in 1816, it focuses on a man who can’t let go of the memory of a horrible incident from his youth. Spying on his father and an adult neighbor, young Nathaniel looked on in horror as the men seemed to conjure “human faces” from a fireplace. When the neighbor notices Nathaniel, he manhandles the boy and threatens to pluck out his eyes. Years later, Nathaniel happens upon a beautiful stranger who seems to be “sleeping with open eyes.” Though the reader soon understands that the woman’s flawless skin, hair and body are evidence that she’s a kind of automaton—she knows just one word (“Oh”) and rarely moves—Nathaniel, emotionally scarred by his assault, can’t see this for himself. Based on a timeless theme—don’t believe everything you see—it’s an intriguing story that a century later inspired Sigmund Freud to dub Hoffmann “the unsurpassed master of the uncanny in literature.” 

 

At nearly 100 pages, “Mademoiselle de Scudéry” is a twisty, gripping murder mystery that deserves a big-screen adaptation. After an unnamed stranger barges into her home and leaves her a package containing “lavish, diamond-studded” jewelry, the title character, a 73-year-old writer, becomes a major player in the investigation of a string of robberies and the murder of a local artisan. Wortsman informs us that some scholars call this novella “the earliest prototype of the detective genre,” and to read the protagonist’s riveting exchange with an accused killer is to realize the sleuths seen in BBC mysteries have nothing on Mademoiselle de Scudéry. In a book of stories that anticipated countless works of genre fiction, Hoffmann’s decision to foreground an astute, independent woman is notable. 

 

Yet it's probably not indicative of an enlightened stance on gender equality, for Hoffmann was something of a cad. Per Wortsman, Hoffmann contracted syphilis during "one of his many extra-marital involvements," and his "infatuation with an underage piano student" appalled his neighbors. But being aware of these aspects of Hoffmann's personal life is not the same as allowing them to interfere with our appreciation for his extensive artistic achievements. 

 

Scholars agree that the influence of Undine and the seven other operas he composed can be heard in the work of important Romantic composers, and as the novelist Karen Russell wrote recently in the New York Review of Books,Hoffmann's fiction was a prelude of sorts to the novels of Octavia Butler, Stephen King and Ursula K. Le Guin, and movies directed by David Lynch and Jordan Peele. Hoffmann wrote amid vast social change, and given his work's deft amalgamation of fear and awe, it's no wonder that the stories in this collection speak to the anxieties of the 21st century.

Dead Jack and the Pandemonium Device, Dead Jack and the Soul Catcher Series

by James Aquilone ©2016, Homunculus House.

Reviewed by J.D. Harlock

Among the many pleasures of being a reader are those rare moments where you realize you’ve stumbled on an unrecognized gem only you seem to know about. Dead Jack is one such series for me, standing out in an indie market that’s lacking in this kind of quality. Written by James Aquilone, the man behind the Kickstarter smash-hit horror anthology Monsters Unleashed, the Dead Jack series follows the zany hard-boiled adventures of its titular zombie detective and his homunculus sidekick, Oswald, as they’re called upon by the denizens of Pandemonium to investigate the supernatural ongoings in the five cities that make up their world. Totaling three novels and three short stories (with both a Hollywood and board game adaptation on the way), this criminally underrated franchise deserves a much bigger audience. For starters, you can’t find a better dysfunction junction of characters than the ones at each other’s throats here. The cast spends just as much time putting each other down as they do trying to figure out solutions to the conundrums they’ve gotten into, and it’s, surprisingly, a lot of fun. The world that surrounds them is just as crazy as they are. You definitely don’t want to live here, and I mean that in the best way. There’s a pulse to Pandemonium that you rarely find in fictional cities because the seedy atmosphere of this hellscape comes across so well that you feel you actually live there and want to get out just as much as the protagonists do. Topping off this lovable cast of mischievous outcasts and their oddly engrossing world is the sheer polish of it all. Even though it doesn’t have the resources of the series major publishers put out, you never feel like you’re in amateur hands that are trying to figure things out with each installment. The writing is economical and efficient, never dwelling on anything longer than it has to, but gives you plenty to chew on. In a sentence or two, Aquilone paints a vivid picture of the scenes his protagonists find themselves in along with the gruff, sarcastic, hardboiled voice (tinged with oddball fantastical references) that‘s so distinguishably Dead Jack’s. Everything moves at breakneck pace that culminates in a balls-to-the-wall climax that tops off the insanity that came before. Usually such plots tend to meander into ludicrousness, but no matter where the plot goes here, you never feel you’ve taken a detour. You can dive into this book without knowing a thing about the series and you wouldn’t miss a beat. Reading the second book enriches the experience in the same way it does for certain Marvel Cinematic Universe films. You can see why this series has drawn Hollywood’s attention. Usually, high concepts like Dead Jack are a one-and-done deal, but there’s so much more to this series than its initial pitch that I have to be reminded that it’s sold as a hardboiled series about a zombie detective. That's a shame, because some potential readers might be turned off. I’m glad I wasn’t, and I can’t wait to be back with the gang on the next mad adventure in their mad, mad world.

Merciless Mermaids: Tales from the Deep

Anthology. Executive editors Kevin J. Anderson and Allyson Longueira.

Editorial team: Scott T. Barnes (publisher and executive editor of NewMyths.com), Lois Bartholomew, Jessica Guernsey, Briannon Holifer, Lila Holley, Robert Johnson, Kelsey Kusnetzky, Victoria Lane, Jennifer Marts, Katherine Meeks, McKenzie Moore, Tracy Paddock, Aubrey Parry, Heidi Payne, and Logan Uber.  ©2023 WordFire Press.

Reviewed by Candyce Byrne


In August 1946, my family boarded an old merchant ship in New York harbor to sail to Stockholm for  my father’s new post at the US embassy. Passenger ships weren’t running yet because the North Sea was still mined. My mother, descendant of ruthless raiders who crossed the seas in open longboats, was terrified not just of being blown to bits but also because my three-year-old sister insisted on riding her tricycle through the ship and out onto the pitching deck, my mother in pursuit, clutching her newborn (me) over her chundering heart. Is that why I’m terrified of wild water and what might loom below? Or is it tales of the horrors my ancestors faced when they “went veeking,” as my Danish Nana put it? Is it personal? Cultural? Or common to us all, genetic, as deep as our dread of the forest, that other familiar metaphor for fear, psyche and soul? With offerings from D.J. Butler, E.H. Gaskins, Mercedes Lackey, Uri Kurlianchik, Rick Wilber and many more, Merciless Mermaids: Tails from the Deep plunges into these questions.


The anthology, executive edited by Kevin J. Anderson and Allyson Longueira, comprises the thesis projects of the graduate students in the Publishing Master of Arts program at Western Colorado University. I don’t have room to tell you about all 30 selections, so here’s a little taste of this fisherman’s feast of short fiction and poetry.


In L.N. Weldon’s “Bones to Lay to Rest,” an unsettling period piece set in a remote coastal inn, the ladies who run the inn realize that handsome young naturalist Dr. McCormack can’t be permitted to reveal what he’s discovered on the beach, and that Something will have to be done.


 “Our Sky,” by Gama Ray Martinez follows the two-man crew of a hyperspace ship as they try to find out what happened to a distant colony whose inhabitants have vanished. The main clue: reports that children were seeing mermaids frolicking in the sea, and then they vanished.


Inuit legend is the inspiration for “The Woman Who Held the Sea in Her Hair,” Em McDermott’s harrowing tale of love betrayed and the power of motherhood.


Karen Deblieck’s poem “O, My Loves” is horrific, beautiful, and skillful. I won’t spoil your path of discovery. Take the plunge.


“Apex Predators,” a flash by Zach Shephard, mixes monsters in another effective piece I can’t describe without spoiling the conundrum at its heart. 


In Jonathan Duckworth’s richly atmospheric “Muddy the Waters,” little Posey is caught in the lethal conflict between her wish-granting Water Auntie, who lives in the bayou, and her stern Methodist mother. What secrets lie between the sisters, and why is Momma weeping in the bathtub?


A bite of ningyo, a fish  man or fish woman, grants long life. It’s a pricey, off-the-menu item in the trendy Japanese restaurant Edomae in Ken Bebelle’s “The Last Ounce of Flesh.”  But the ningyo herself lives even longer. Escaped, healed, and driven by rage over years imprisoned in a fetid tank waiting for someone to purchase a gobbet of her living flesh, she’s out for revenge.


My favorite monster lurks in “The Lure of the Sea” by Michelle Tang. Despite unnecessarily withheld information and missed opportunities to plumb the psychologies of the abyss, the beast, once revealed, is perfect and awful. Set your questions aside and plough on to the payoff.


Mermaids are usually a dark subject, but not all the selections are grim. “Pretty Maids All In A Row” is Mercedes Lackey’s sometimes funny, sometimes grisly account of “Live Mermaids” in a skeezy amusement park defending themselves with their wits and their gifts.


Benjamin Butler Smith’s “Caecelia’s Tears” is a swashbuckling adventure that reads like pulp fiction from the Old Days.  


In “Mer-Made,” Uri Kurlianchik delivers a cross-genre caper about a hard-boiled private eye leading his intrepid crew of honest cops against the vicious mermaid mafia holding his seaside town hostage.


Mermaids can only fly in the rain, B.G. Hilton tells us in “Flight of the Mermaids,” but their skill and daring when heavy weather grounds other pilots more than make up for that limitation. With the Greatest War at a turning point, it’s fortunate that the Baron’s dirigible Hades appears during a downpour. The  mermaids of the 23rd Squadron—Neptune’s Thunderbolts—take to the air to take down the Baron and save the day. Such fun!


Seas, bayous, lakes, rivers, creeks, tanks, bathtubs, even the skiesmerciless mermaids could be anywhere.  Let them take you for a dip on the wild side.

The Night Field

by Donna Glee Williams

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

The Night Field is a rather complex story with multiple points of view and shifting timelines. As I began to write this review, I found myself outlining the various sections but soon gave up, as the task would have taken far too long.


The story opens with young Pyn-Poi, the principal protagonist, as a captive in some sadistic, Lord of the Flies-type scenario. In the yard of a prison, she is stuffed into a barrel and ravenous dogs are set loose to attack, trying to get at the fresh meat inside, for the purposes of entertaining the onlookers. We witness this difficult scene from various perspectives, including Pyn-Poi’s, a guard’s, a child’s, and a fellow prisoner’s. The (mostly off page) brutality and the sociopathic reactions of the onlookers inured to this level of violence warn us this is not the sort of society we ever want to devolve to.


Contrast this to Pyn-Poi’s origin, which we discover a few pages later as the tale goes back in time. Pyn-Poi and her people live in symbiosis with giant trees in a rainforest which they call the Real. Here, her father coaxes the trees into making bridges across the enormous rivers, a multi-generational task. Pyn-Poi wants nothing more than to emulate her father, to sculpt the trees into human-friendly shapes, and is always sneaking off to accompany dad in his work. Pyn-Poi’s mother, on the other hand, wants her to do more traditional female work, and eventually to become the matriarch of the tribe. 


Pyn-Poi’s mother says, “What’s good for the clan is good for the kin, and what is good for the kin, is good for the family, and what is good for the family is good for the one.” While the rebellious Pyn-Poi wonders if it doesn’t also flow the other way … “What’s good for the one shouldn’t also be good for family, kin, clan, and People.”


As in the previous chapter, we get to see the story from many different perspectives. Even the trees here get their own voice. My one complaint was that these multitudinous voices drew focus away from Pyn-Poi’s adventure more than I would have liked.


In my mind, as I read The Night Field I kept picturing the Amazon basin, with its magnificent trees and labyrinth of waterways. In this gentle world (gentle, but not easy), humans and the environment work together, rather than one wrestling for mastery over the other. Like the Amazon basin, this is a place of rainfall, waterways … and drought. When the monsoons come (my word), the rivers gurgle and grow, and the humans climb for the safety of the tall trees and even the cliffs, which lead to some sort of mesa above the rainforest. A place where other sorts of humans live with a very different, industrial attitude towards nature.


I couldn’t think of a good way of saying this, so I will go with what first came to mind. The Night Field does not underestimate its readers. While its pace is not fast, the story never stops to explain itself. Everything remains well within the point of view and knowledge of the characters, with no “telling” so that us outsiders can figure out what is going on. This is both beautiful and, at times, frustrating. Especially if you cannot read it all the way through in one go. 


The rains come, the people climb, but the rains do not bring the rejuvenation Pyn-Poi and her people are expecting. The rains themselves seem to be poisoning the people and trees. Pyn-Poi is forced to go on a mission to the Plains of the Ancestors beyond the Wall and beg her ancestors to intercede. But first she has to get beyond industrial man (my words).


Despite what you might be thinking, this is not a story that lectures or hits the reader over the head with messaging. Of course, an ecological warning is there, but it comes to us gently, through the eyes of the people who live it. 


Donna Glee William's simple, beautiful prose transports us to a Sylvain wonderland with woven bridges, mysterious currents, magical flora, and more familial love and conflict than most mainstream novels. When the child Pyn-Poi led me into in William's word-forest, I did not want to leave.


Highly recommended.

The Gravity of Existence  

©2022 Interstellar Flight Press

Reviewed by Jasmine Arch (Jasmien Plate)


Micro-Poetry Dissects the Universe


A few months ago, I received an ARC copy of The Gravity of Existence by three-time

Stoker Award-winner and frequent NewMyths contributor Christina Sng. I have a soft

spot for micro-poetry so I was eager to dig in, but life got in the way. When I gave

myself time to sit and read, my first thought was, Hot damn. Why did I wait so long?


Snappy, humorous, and dark, this collection is one to browse again and again, with

poems that will hit differently at different times. Even if you believe poetry isn’t your

thing, is inaccessible, too hard to understand, too anything, please give The Gravity

of Existence a try.


Sng moves from heartbreak and introspection in the first poems to casual violence in

the haiku sequence “Monstress” so effortlessly that envy turns me bright green.

Nothing feels out of place, quite a feat with poems that fit within the space of a

breath on topics ranging from new looks at well-known fairytales, to monsters

shamelessly reclaiming their identity and their monstrosity, to space explorers and

their cats.


Most of the poems are grouped into themed sequences that tell a story. When the

story reimagines a well-known fairytale, the layers turn inside out to create

something different, more feral, more rebellious, just more. Sng may put us in

someone else’s shoes or take us back to childhood fears, where every sheet

flapping in the wind harbors a ghost or a ghoul. When the theme turns to science

fiction, we witness hopelessness and frustration in a failed exodus, a hull breech, or

a colony that fails to thrive, but also a stubborn defiance of the odds. Space travelers

clinging to a beloved pet, transplanting flowers from home, determined to build a life.


From “Requiem” at the close of the book but also with sequences like “Nuclear,”

“How We Die,” or the singleton poem “Rare Peaceful Day on Earth,” Sng reminds us

that no matter how we dream of different stars and planets, Earth is the home we

have and must care for.


The “Little Red in Haiku” sequence especially stood out to me, as well as “The Many

Ways We Die in Space,” and of course, “Cats in Space.” Because it’s cats in space.

Speaks to my inner Ellen Ripley, I suppose.


I don’t like to ascribe a numerical value to books, but if I must, I give The Gravity of

Existence nine out of ten astronaut kittens

Can You Sign My Tentacle?  

Poetry collection by Brandon O’Brien ©2021, Interstellar Flight Press

Review by Jasmine Arch 


By a stroke of luck, the cover for Brandon O’Brien’s debut collection Can You Sign My Tentacle? rolled across my Twitter feed, beckoning me with a curling tentacle. I knew I’d read it sooner or later, but little did I know I’d get the chance to interview the poet himself.  The conversation taught me not just about the book and how it came to be but also about a loveable person and poet and the craft of poetry itself. It also made me eager to reread the book from this new vantage point. Can You Sign My Tentacle? combines elements of hip-hop with Lovecraftian monsters, subverting the eldritch genre and challenging readers to look at racism, sexism, and violence through a new and honest lens.


When the writing in front of me has a rhythm I want to taste and feel, I read aloud, even if it's only whispers. Even when not reading aloud, I hear my own voice in my head. Every now and then, however, I come across a voice so strong it drowns me out. That's what I encountered in this book. Brandon O'Brien was shouting at me from its pages. Usually when I'm reading poetry, I savor the poems, one or two at a time. But I drank this book down in big greedy gulps. The rhythm, the sound quality and word choice made it go down like a heady glass of wine. The way some words were placed, on a line of their own amid two-line stanzas, made them feel like a punch to the jaw, sans bruising (thank goddess). The poems contain a range of emotion combined with an ease of sound and movement that seems effortless but in reality is far from it.

 

I have few touch points with the author in terms of background and culture. If that were different, if these poems could be a new and empowering lens through which to see my world and myself, my reading of them would undoubtedly be different. But this collection transcends those differences to speak of resilience and strength in the face of oppression. The immersive way they're written allowed me to experience what they're saying, making me wish that at certain points in my past I could have been “the girl-god, jaw distending” from Cthylla Asks for J. Cole's Autograph. Such immersion makes poetry a powerful experience and is a big part of what made me fall in love with the genre in the first place.

 

The poems draw on Lovecraft's mythos, and I find it amazing that artists across different media are taking his work, building on it, and making it their own. "But Jasmine," you might say. "I don't know anything about Lovecraft or his work. How am I supposed to understand references to work I'm unfamiliar with?"  I'm no fan of Lovecraft myself—ethical questions aside, I struggle with his prose style. And yet I had no problem reading these poems. The author took the bones of something pre-existing and rearranged them, replacing the connective tissue with something of his own making, allowing everything to move in new ways to form unique connections. Would it have changed my reading and interpretation to be familiar with Lovecraft’s work? Probably. Do these poems stand on their own without leaning on Lovecraft references? Absolutely.

 

For people who live in a society that tries to keep them under its boot heel, I say "read this." For those living a more privileged life I say the same, because all of us become better when we look at the world from a different vantage point. I'm not a fan of five-star ratings because every book is unique; comparing them can feel like comparing whales to seahorses. However, if I had to rate Can You Sign My Tentacle? I'd give it 7.5 out of eight chromatophores.*

___________

*Chromatophores: one of the cell types that allow cephalopods to camouflage their skin with uncanny speed and accuracy.


Spacers Snarled in the Hair of Comet

Poetry collection by Bruce Boston - ©2022 by Mind’s Eye Publications

Review by Herb Kauderer 

Songbook for a Revolution

Ostensibly a collection of twenty-two poems by Bruce Boston, Spacers Snarled in

the Hair of Comets reads more like a songbook for a revolution, this revolution

being an upheaval of imagination rather than political issues. At least three of the

poems take the reader to futuristic bars for drinks and songs, just the sorts of places

to agitate the crowd to think thoughts previously unexplored.

Five of the poems use some form of the word spacers in the title, including the first

two and the last. On one hand, this signals that the majority of the book takes place

off-planet; on the other hand, it establishes that much of it takes place in emotional

and cultural space. It takes the drama and sensual input of earthly life and moves it

to realms of the imagination and to realms off-earth. Through song. We are all

spacers in our own subjective interior landscapes peopled with our own beliefs and

the imaginations of every story we drink. This book reminds us there is a

soundtrack with those landscapes.

Songs are overtly identified, such as “Song of the Eternal Sailors,” which is about

navigating beliefs. Those are personal beliefs such as “The wages of the past have

covered all our sins.” And mythic beliefs, such as Odysseus, Ahab, and Nemo.

Belief is the connective tissue between earth and space.

Regarding the end of the night in a bar or perhaps the end of the night’s stories,

“The Music of Deep Spacers” includes:

the music all at once changes

to a vast and haunting refrain

that echoes the depths of space,

the solitude of ceaseless travel.

“Beyond the Edge of Alien Desire” contains small homages to Robert Frost,

ending with “blue miles to go before I wake,” but also a sense of “Acquainted with

the Night,” as the narrator has become acquainted with a night of sex with an alien

described in a way that somehow also conjures Edna St. Vincent Millay’s sonnets,

especially Sonnet XLII.

There is perhaps another Frost reference within “In a Spacer’s Bar” where the

narrator is enthralled with the exotic space stories of an old man who turns out to

be “a deranged cost accountant” who’d never left earth. Yet the space fraud’s

stories were:

ablaze within my mind,

far more full of fire and ice

than anything of mine.

Here the “Fire and Ice” Frost sees as the end of the world serve as desirable

doorways to the challenges of other worlds. This fits with the advice that “The Star

Drifter Grounded” receives from his friend Zenthyl that “any land is lovable” and

begs the question of whether any imaginary land is lovable.

Boston also includes the epigraph “after William Carlos Williams” with

“Interstellar Tract,” further connecting these speculative poems to mainstream

poets. There are less certain allusions to the classics as well. For readers of

speculative poetry, the mainstream poets are both alien and imaginary.

The nature of dreams as almost reality in “The Star Dreamers” is powerful

standing alone as a poem but also gives a hard truth about science fiction fans and

fandom, ending with:

If we plan to survive there

are tasks we should define.

Instead we sit and barter

tales of lives we never lived,

of worlds we never conquered

and things we never did.

Much of the book can be looked at in the context of science fiction fandom, but

that is a disservice, as the work is far more an examination of the nature of

imagination and art. “Beneath an Alien Sky” moves the question of art closer to the

forefront.

Yet still the sidereal

shapes of night remain,

arbitrary and bright

as any work of art.

The book closes with “Spacer’s Compass,” which may be asking what happens

when imagination and science fiction age: “Old I grow… galactic old / the polar

night now calls my name”

Space has no directions

and holds all directions at once

a well of radiant possibilities

all matter of strangeness

The last line of all is a paraphrase of The Gettysburg Address: “…and the stars are

for the living,” which, despite the prior claim of space being directionless and

combined with the compass of the title, asks readers to orient their imagination

toward the future. Of course, the span of this book is much wider than just the

future. It captures the full compass rose of experience including future pasts, past

futures, and the side trail of myth.

In the end, this is a rich entry from one of specpo’s grandmasters, a writer whose

creativity cannot be limited by a compass.


Monstress by Marjorie Liu - llustrated by Sana Takeda  ©  Image Comics

Review by Brittany Bjorndal  


Magical, Mysterious, Magnetic:

Monstress Will Move You and Leave You Buzzed


Monstress is an enthralling comic book series written by Marjorie Liu and illustrated by Sana Takeda. Gripping from the get-go, this series is hauntingly beautiful and not for the faint of heart. Following Maika Halfwolf, an unusual heroine with a dark side of her own, through a dangerous world full of magical creatures, monsters, friends, and foes, this gritty epic fantasy delivers a fascinating and original plotline that re-invokes the possibilities of comic books and stories. Whether you’ve been a comic book junkie for a long time or have yet to read a comic book, let Monstress, The Awakening take you to a badass world that stirs the psyche and revs up the resolve that even in the darkest places, courage, will, and love will prevail.

The story opens with Maika Halfwolf up for bid as a 17- year-old Arcanic with a human appearance. Named “Lot 819,” this beautiful creature with a missing arm is far more powerful than eyes can see, as bidders will soon discover.

Being up for bid is the least of Halfwolf’s worries as she moves among groups of conflicting orders, ranging from Arcanics, Cumea, and humans, to Inquisitrixes, shamans, and bloodthirsty scientists. The fascinating Arcanics are magical creatures believed to be descendants of the highly regarded “Ancients” and much hunted by other power-hungry groups, including humans. Human-appearing other than a curious symbol hidden in the center of her chest, Maika Halfwolf has a destiny greater than herself.

With a non-linear timeline, flashbacks and flashforwards are all the reader has to piece together the mysterious unfolding of Halfwolf’s journey to avenge her mother’s death and to discover the truth and history of the powerful ancient shaman empress whose death moved the wide world of Monstress into upheaval and war. From the city of Zamora to mist-laden forests, the reader is taken through magical dimensions, with glimpses from the past, present, and future, to navigate everything from mansions and science labs to mountains and prison cells.

The characters in this story are imaginative, original, and intriguing, with innovative traits and complex layers. A fox cub with a pure heart, a witch who can read memories, a wise soul who appears as a young girl complete with a pet eagle, and two-tailed wizard cats who love to quote “the poets,” this epic dark fantasy is magnificent in its re-imagining of character. Even the villains are captivating and appear just as gruesome as they act. Not only are we met with lost-souled villains but also with intelligent, cunning, and calculating villains. Even the dark side of Maika Halfwolf herself reveals that all true heroes battle their inner shadows as much as the cold, villain-filled world they find themselves in. Dynamic, multi-dimensional, alluring, these characters leave their thumbprints in your memory and a tight grip on your heartstrings as you move through this dark fantasy you won’t want to leave.

Not only is Ms. Liu a stellar writer, but she is creating space for previously under-represented characters. Liu’s award-winning works include over 17 novels and a number of comic book series. Born in Philadelphia and raised in Seattle, hers is a voice we need as she shows us the possibilities the comic book form holds for the future.

Originally from Niigata, Japan, and now living in Tokyo, the illustrator, Sana Takeda, has a background in video game graphics and has been sharpening her skills since she was young. Pick up the first volume of the series, The Awakening, and you’ll see how epic her graphics are. I guarantee you cannot resist being moved by her powerful work. In the end, Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda have created a gem.

Volume One of the series contains a map of the fantastic world and a write-up by Ms. Liu about the background and inspiration for her captivating story. Each book is as good if not better than the previous one, and the series is still ongoing, with six volumes to date. Gritty, bold, and hauntingly beautiful, this comic series is the daring voice of today you will love to love again and again.

A House of Untold Stories by Peter Chiykowski

Reviewed by J.D. Harlock  


VISIT THE HOUSE OF UNTOLD STORIES

Early on, we’re informed that every page in The House of Untold Stories is a door, and that every door leads to a new tale of heartbreak, triumph, horror, or imagination. Having just finished the book last night, I’m happy to report that this collection of flash fiction pieces by Peter Chiykowski delivers on that promise.

As with any collection of stories, there are stories you’ll love and stories you’ll wonder why were included, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t smiling the whole way through. The sheer creativity on display blew me away, with selections running the gamut from apocalyptic fiction to haunted house horror to urban fantasy and everything in between. Each concoction comes with a unique twist on these genres and their tropes that'll have you marveling at the ingenuity on display as much as the craftsmanship.

Comedies like “Three Weeks To Live” and “Our New Ritual” will have you rolling on the floor, tearjerkers like “The Time Machine” and “The Vines of Sorreastro” will have you grabbing for tissues, and horror stories like “Bite” and “Aunt Ellen’s Doll Collection” will keep you up at night with the lights on. By the end you’ll have trouble picking a favorite, and I mean that as a compliment (if I had to pick mine, it would be “Crossroads at Midnight,” which is the cleverest twist on a worn-out premise I’ve seen in a long time).

That’s not to say everything’s perfect. Pieces like “Witches’ Deep” should have been developed into short stories, while others like “After the Sunset” should have been polished more, and ones like “The Gods Meet” and “The Show Must Go On” could have been cut entirely. But such pieces are few, and being flash fiction, they go by so fast that they don’t impact the reading experience.

Such success can only happen when an author has gathered a staggering fifty flash pieces together, and at the very least, rest assured you’ll be entertained if not outright blown away by these yarns. If you're looking for a breezy palate cleanser between the heart-wrenching door stoppers the industry keeps publishing, check this one out. With fifty tales to pick from, you’re bound to find something you’ll love.


------


Peter Chiykowski - Author

Peter Chiykowski is the creator of the award-winning webcomic Rock Paper Cynic and the designer of The Story Engine Deck of writing prompts. His new book of microfiction The House of Untold Stories is forthcoming from Andrews-McMeel Publishing on August 31, 2021. He has twice won the Aurora Award for “Best Graphic Novel” from the Canadian Science Fiction and Fantasy Association, and his writing, art, and memes have appeared in or been covered in books, newspaper articles, blogs, tabletop games, video games, and magazines coast to coast.


J.D. Harlock  - Reviewer

J. D. is a Lebanese/Palestinian/Syrian writer based in Beirut. He graduated from the LAU Adnan Kassar School of Business in the spring of 2017 and just finished his masters in International Relations at the Queen Mary University of London.


The Brass Queen by Elizabeth Chadsworth

Reviewed by Scott T Barnes 


Miss Constance Haltwhistle has a number of problems. First, she must keep her identity as Queen Victoria’s arms supplier a secret. Second, her prize scientists get kidnapped at her coming-out ball. Third, if she doesn’t get married into nobility within a week, she will lose her sizable estates. Besides the obvious difficulties, see point the second. Fourth, she is being hunted by any number of assassins, and chainmail underwear only protects one so far. Finally, and most importantly, she must juggle all these conundrums while strictly following the etiquette in Babett’s Modern Manners.


I can count on one hand the books that I consider hilarious. I am thrilled to report that The Brass Queen can be added to the list. (Still, sadly, one finger remains unassigned.)


The Brass Queen is a steampunk novel like no other. Set in an alternate 1897 England where steam powers miraculous, science fiction-like contraptions, the romantic adventure (or adventuring romantics?) mixes fish-out-of-water humor with James Bond style adventure, if Ms. Bond had to wear a bustle to comply with societal norms…while simultaneously concealing smoke grenades and a blunderbuss. 


The Brass Queen had me laughing from the starting gate. Honestly, if all steampunk were written like this it would be my favorite genre. We all need a good laugh nowadays, don’t you think? and the funhouse mirror it reflects of ourselves isn’t all that far off the mark.


Here’s a sample:


“I believe this is another US favorite.” [Miss Haltwhistle] gestured toward the whiskey. “As you might refer to it, ‘rotgut.’ I’ve heard that whisky doesn’t solve every problem, but it’s sure worth a shot.” She grinned. “That’s an American joke I picked up from one of my father’s periodicals.”

Apparently, despite the pun and the gun, she was trying to be charming.

It was almost working.


Miss Haltwhistle is a fiery redhead with high expectations of herself and everyone else, unshakable confidence in her own abilities and judgment, a need to win every argument, and exceeding pride in her swine herd. She also has a thinly repressed romantic streak that revs up when a mysterious American by the name Justice Franklin Trusdale shows up at her coming-out ball. Right before the scientists get kidnapped.

Coincidence? Or rogue?


All while investigating her American guest, Miss Haltwhistle tries to find and rescue her three missing scientists. The adventure takes the reader on a delightful tour of this imaginary part of England, the Phyrro (science) Club, the Steamwerks military installation, a delightfully risqué print shop, a burlesque show, a ball or two, and of course a low-speed balloon chase.  Naked, invisible assassins keep throwing a monkey wrench into Miss Haltwhistle’s plans, pushing her chance at marriage and estate salvaging further and further away. Meanwhile Trusdale becomes more heroic, more likable, and more mysterious by the day. Not to mention more insufferable. More stubborn. And worst of all, more American. Why can’t he let those invisible assassins steal his Stetson, anyway? He’d look oh so much better in a top hat and tails.


One should never schedule the assassination of one’s queen and host a major garden party in the same week. Prince Lucien Albert Dunstan, third Duke of Hallamshire, thirteenth in line to the British throne, and Queen Victoria’s favorite grandson, was having a devil of a time keeping the details straight.


Oh yes, the villain is just as fun as the hero in this smashing good tale.


I could go on and on, but I don’t want to spoil anything. Suffice to say I can’t recommend The Brass Queen enough.

Bone Shard Daughter by Andrea Stewart

Reviewed by Scott T Barnes 


“May the winds be favorable,” you say.

“And the skies clear,” I reply.

Thus, goes the traditional greeting of the Imperial Island, land of the Empire, the setting in The Bone Shard Daughter. Strange as it seems, this is a floating island, as are all the islands in this very original fantasy novel.

The story is told through multiple first-person narratives. First, we meet Lin, the daughter of the Emperor of Imperial Island. Twenty-three-year-old Lin is next in line for the throne, but there is a problem. She has forgotten everything that happened to her before the age of 19.

“How can I trust you with my secrets if you don’t know who you are?” her father asks her.

Bayan, her father’s foster son, has earned seven keys, symbols of how far he has progressed in magic. The seventh key represents bone shard magic, the highest level of magic in the realm. Lin has only progressed to level six. Her father refuses to teach her more until she manages to recall her past.

In fact, he threatens to make foster-son Bayan into his heir.

What is bone shard magic? Wizards who command the bone shards can remove a piece of a person’s skull, something called “trepanning,” and create automatons with it.  (I urge you to look up “trepanning;” the history is fascinating.) These Frankenstein-like automatons power the Empire and do everything from guard chambers to post wanted signs. They seem able to follow simple commands and have a certain level of discernment between conflicting priorities.

The bone shards are taken from the populace at the tithing festivals each year, and the victims aren’t necessarily pleased about it. Some of them do not survive the experience. 

Right away we get a sense that this is not a standard LoTR derivative. While the story has many points that will resonate with fantasy fans (empires, princesses, sibling rivalries…) it has lots to makes it original and different. The bone-shard magic makes one cringe and shudder. We are not sure we like this Empire the princess Lin is born into. We are not sure if they are the good guys, the bad guys, or something in the between. 

We are told that there is an evil force known as the Alanga that may rise up at any time to reclaim the islands, though that may be propaganda to keep people in line. To be sure, great events are afoot. A statue has opened its eyes. Raiders are making war. An island sinks beneath the sea.

The Bone Shard Daughter offers several different narrators, and the second one we meet is Jovis, a smuggler looking for his lost—and presumably kidnapped—wife. He is a man who always keeps his promises, and early on he is forced to promise that he will rescue a boy from the trepanning ceremony. He just succeeds when the island begins to tremble, and then shake, and then sink. Jovis has to flee the sinking island, boy in tow. On the open water in his smuggler’s skiff, Jovis rescues a web-footed, cat-like creature, and then, on the next island, runs into bounty-hunter trouble. 

After Jovis we meet Phalue, swordsman, daughter of an island governor and reformed philanderer, a woman who just had a spat with her girlfriend. Unable to find peace through sword practice, resolved to make amends with her lover, Phalue returns home to a ransacked apartment. She finds amongst the disorder a ransom note for her girlfriend Ranami.

Later we meet Sand, a harvester of mangoes who seems to be in some sort of human bondage to her village. A fall from a tree knocks thoughts of rebellion into her.

Great events are happening, indeed. And all of these stories will intersect at some point.

I had a great time reading The Bone Shard Daughter. I am told it has some influence from Asian stories but I haven’t read enough to know. In any case, it is both familiar and unique. If there is an issue, really more of a nitpick, it is that the older cast of characters sounds a lot like the teenage characters we normally associate with fantasy novels. I would have preferred a little more maturity in the characters, a little more brokenness and less purity of motivation. But that is a small thing in this thoroughly enjoyable novel. It is the first in a series. I plan to read all of them.

When To Know  Anthology Edited by Alison McBain

Reviewed by Robert Runte' 


NOT YOUR EVERYDAY TIME TRAVEL TALES 


Here’s an anthology you’re unlikely to have come across on your own but that is nevertheless worth a look. The publisher, Fairfield Scribes, is a writers/editors group out of Fairfield, Connecticut, but since its anthologies include outsiders and most of the authors are widely published elsewhere, this isn’t your usual vanity exercise. It goes without saying that the quality in any anthology will vary, but this one is generally solid and includes some real standouts. It’s well worth the $2.92 Kindle price.


The collection’s greatest strength is that most of the authors aren’t necessarily grounded in science fiction and fantasy, making the variation in styles and genre much greater than one would expect from a time travel anthology. Easily two-thirds of the stories would be at home in any mainstream literary journal—which is to say, they focus more on character development than on the surprise of time travel. After fifty years of reading every time travel story ever, it’s hard to surprise me with the usual paradoxes, so it was nice to see some people stories for a change.


 “Ruby’s Paradox,” the first and featured story, is what you get when a “literary” author ends up a fan of Dr. Who. If you were as disappointed as I was in the recent Dr. Who episode dealing with Rosa Parks, you need to read this much-better-written account of Ruby’s meeting the Man in the White Suit. “Baggage” is a similarly satisfying story of personal development. Both are available to read free in the generous sample provided in Amazon’s “look inside” feature.


My two favorite stories, however, were straight-forward time travel jaunts. “Ten Minutes Past Teatime” is a wonderful, feminist, steampunk-meets-Vikings action adventure, and “The Service Call” asks what happens if your “do over” system malfunctions at an inopportune moment. “Service Call” made me laugh, and “Ten Minutes Past” kept me smiling.


“Reality Zero” is a nicely accomplished parallel timeline story, “A Winter’s Day” is a cryogenics piece, “Shifting” is an engaging Arabian Nights sort of tale, “Disjointed” is a stoner adventure á la Bob and Ted, and so on. A couple of stories are overlong because they’re predictable to anyone familiar with time travel canon, but “Turns of Fate” actually has an idea I haven’t come across before, and “Dinosaurs and Oats” is just delightfully whimsical.  At 18 stories and 384 pages, there’s a lot to choose from.


What makes themed anthologies so interesting is the wildly different take each author has on the same general topic. When to Now pushes that variety beyond the usual boundaries of the genre to pull in authors from outside, thus providing a glimpse of the state of modern short fiction. Writers, in particular, may be interested to see what’s out there, and how science fiction and fantasy themed work might be repackaged for mainstream markets.

FINDER   by Susanne Palmer

Reviewed by Lisa Timpf 


Fergus Ferguson, protagonist of Suzanne Palmer’s novel Finder, has a seemingly simple mission: repo the starship Venetia’s Sword, stolen from the Shipbuilders of Pluto. Arum Gilger, the thief, is unlikely to hand over the keys without a fight, but the difficulty of the challenge only makes it more interesting for the clever and resourceful Fergus. He’s confident he’ll find a way.


The assignment brings Fergus to the Cernekan system, known as “Cernee” to the locals. Cernekan consists of a “ring station . . . surrounded by a halo . . .  of hollowed-out rocks, scavenged dead ships, and a haphazard collection of building-sized tin cans . . . tied together with hundreds of crisscrossing cables.” It’s a marginal place where people are barely able to scratch out a living. But it seems nothing is too small to fight over, and when Fergus arrives in the system, a civil war is brewing.


Determined not to get embroiled in the conflict, Fergus reminds himself that he just needs to follow his normal routine: “slip in, look around, get what he came for, and get out, and leave no trace.” Audacious scheming puts Fergus one step from reclaiming the ship. The universe, however, throws a curve-ball that puts his plans in disarray and rocks his self-confidence. The notion strikes him that “for the first time, he [is] going to lose.” Stubborn to the core, Fergus refuses to give up.


Palmer takes us to an abandoned mine, the sunshields that generate Cernee’s power, and a farm habitat where a family grows lichen as their main product. Though much of the story is set in Cernekan, circumstances force Fergus to return to Mars, where he is recognized as a hero in certain circles.


Hovering in the background are the enigmatic aliens known as the Asiig, who swoop by periodically, sending everyone in Cernekan into watchful hiding. Fergus also struggles with his own internal conflicts about what to do, often fueled by regrets about the past. The action keeps the story moving, with twists and turns that keep the reader guessing.


Getting around in a setting that is mostly space requires innovative solutions for everything from transportation to life support systems. We are introduced to self-sealing exosuits, oxygen tank charging stations, flysticks (pogo-stick-like devices that propel their riders through space), and different methods of warfare (filament wire that can shred an exosuit, for example).


Humor is woven throughout in repartee between characters, Fergus’ wry observations, and funny situations. On one occasion, Fergus, who was born in Scotland, advises one of his companions against eating a certain dish:  “when someone who comes from the land of haggis and black pudding tells you something is inedible, you should trust them.” When Fergus is struggling to regain consciousness after an explosion, he wonders “Can you be uncomfortable and dead at the same time? If so, that seemed unfair.”


Initially Fergus comes across as a likeable scamp, but by gradually revealing his past, Palmer makes him a more-rounded and more sympathetic character. It’s easy to relate to the story of the family farm in Scotland that was claimed by rising waters, a calamity his parents never adjusted to and that took its toll on Fergus and shaped the man he became. Similarly, events on Mars impact Fergus’ willingness to get involved and explain his reluctance to allow others to become entangled in his battles.


The underlying notions of Palmer’s book are also thought-provoking. She paints a future in which humans and other sentient beings have chewed through natural resources, even on the farthest-flung rim of the galaxy, forcing them to marginal locales like Cernekan; an Earth where flooding has claimed farms and cities; and a Mars where an underground rebellion battles corporate interests that want to wring every particle of value from the planet without care for the colonists themselves. Despite the downsides of Palmer’s future world, there are wonders as well, including the workings of the Shipbuilders of Pluto, described by Fergus as “the most weirdly brilliant people he knows.” And, perhaps most important, good people are still trying to fight for what they believe in against seemingly impossible odds.


Palmer is a Hugo-winning writer, and it’s easy to see why. Although Finder is the first of Palmer’s works I’ve read, I’ll gladly seek out others. I found it inventive, insightful, engrossing, and entertaining—an enjoyable read.

A Collection of Dreamscapes   by Christina Sng

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes


Christina Sng is one of the most prolific and gifted speculative poets working today. A Collection of Nightmares won the prestigious Bram Stroker award. Her new work, A Collection of Dreamscapes is equally worthy of your attention.


The book is divided into five “themes” or sections entitled The Love Song of Allegra, Fairy Tales, All the Monsters in the World, The Capacity of Violence, and Myths and Dreamscapes. Each has 15 or more poems ranging from a few stanzas to several pages. The poems tend towards short lines and free form rather than longer lines with a fixed rhythm and meter.


The Love Song of Allegra reads like the poet’s rendition of mythology. Some of the tales obviously feature mythological characters and events (i.e. Prometheus, the titan credited with bringing fire to humanity in Greek literature) and others are so vivid and evocative that I spent a good deal of time trying to find the original myths online; only to conclude that Sng must have invented them. This section is good fun, and the poems have enough depth and truth to create myths in their own right. If you read this section and are not enthralled, read no further. But for most of you, stopping will be the last thing on your mind.


Fairy Tales is what you would expect, a poetic examination of some classic tales. One of the poems appearing here was first published in NewMyths. Grandmother Red begins:


One never quite recovers

From the trauma 

Of being eaten.


Yes, there is humor in Sng’s work, even though she tends to write on the darker side of human nature.


All the Monsters in the World and The Capacity of Violence explore that darker side. Monsters is more symbolic and universal, while Violence delves deeper into those creatures, human or otherwise, who do not control the monster within, and indeed take pleasure from letting it out. I found these poems disturbing and could not read them straight through but only in little doses. Herein we find the second poem from NewMyths, The Forest of Discarded Baby Girls. It’s opening is:


No Man dares enter

The forest of discarded baby girls

After sundown in the dead of night.


The wind howls

When another girl is abandoned,

Always at the edge of the forest…


Disturbing? Yes. Nevertheless, there are lessons to be learned for those who listen.


Finally we have Myths and Dreamscapes. Some of these are retellings of myths and mysteries (The Giants of Easter Island and Styx) and others are the author’s inventions such as The Magic of Crystals and Moonlight in the Playground, possibly my favorite.


Christina Sng is an author I recommend you get to know better. Best of all, you can sample her writing before purchasing! Read a couple of her poems here in NewMyths, and if you like them, by all means buy A Collection of Dreamscapes from Raw Dog Screaming Press.

WATT O'HUGH and the INNOCENT DEAD   by Steven S, Drachman

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong


HELL OF AN ENDING FOR O’HUGH

Sticking the landing is important. It can win the competition or cause a loss if one misses. In the case of the modern toxic fandom, missing the landing can make legions of fans hate you (Game of Thrones is an excellent example). Book series are similar. Authors who open up multiple threads throughout their story need to weave them all together in the end in a satisfying  (or at least sensible) way for their readers. Or risk suffering the wrath of fandom. 


In our third look at the legendary pulp hero Watt O'Hugh the Third, we are again greeted with multiple timelines. We start off right before the beginning of book two for a little prophesizing before being radically pulled out into not only a different time but also a different world. O'Hugh finds himself in the Hell of the Innocent Dead, where those who were betrayed by someone close go after they die, like an evil purgatory. He is about to be devoured by a giant sand crab but is saved by the terrible poet Yu Dai-Yung. While Master Yu was a major and even viewpoint character in the previous novels, this appears to be the first meeting of the two.


Master Yu explains what the Hell of the Innocent Dead is and the basic rules. He also tells O'Hugh he’s there to raise an army to help fight Sidonism,  the evil Utopian totalitarian movement Watt’s been fighting on Earth since book one. 


The hell they’re trapped in is similar to Earth, though time seems simultaneously to exist and not to exist. Everything tastes slightly off and bad, and, try as one might, there’s never a way to be fully clean. All matter of mythical beasts and monsters exist, pushing the novel more into the fantasy realm versus the magical realism of the previous books. O'Hugh is going to be central to the final battle in hell, though no one is quite sure how.


Along the way the pair meets an interesting cast of supporting characters and has various side (mis)adventures. O'Hugh's heroic nature prevents him from letting a girl, Althea, be sold into slavery, so the pair becomes a trio seeking to recruit Warlord Hua's mighty army. Hua agrees to join the battle in exchange for the Emerald Gemstone of Thoth, a stone that contains the secrets of the universe. Our heroes not only have to recruit an army of gods and titans (with special help from a prominent character from earlier in the series) but also to get demons on their side by convincing them that things can go back to the way they were before the Sidonians. Everything leads up to an epic battle at the gates of hell.


As I said in my reviews of The Ghosts of Watt O’Hugh and Watt O’Hugh Underground, I really enjoyed the first book but felt the second was a bit muddled. In the third, Drachman goes back to O’Hugh’s viewpoint, which brings along the wit and sense of humor missing from chunks of Underground). This novel mixes in more elements of fantasy by moving its setting to hell. Drachman's version of hell, or at least the Hell of the Innocent Dead, is fascinating, which is why I was frustrated that he kept pulling us out of it for "side missions" or O’Hugh’s memories. 


Like the previous novels, Innocent Dead is part of O’Hugh’s memoirs, and Drachman goes on tangents that, while related to the main story, detract from it. The memoir aspect also takes a bit of tension out of the final battle as we know our main hero will be fine.


Drachman is a talented writer, although the story would have been vastly improved by better focus. Still, the author gave us a long look at human nature and Drachman gave a look at the varying degrees of hope we all seek out in our lives, whether we admit to it or not. 


While most of the novel was fairly dark, one passage stands out. When O'Hugh laments how people are generally bad he’s reminded, "'Not the firemen!' [the Oracle] exclaimed, and she was correct, I allowed. There could indeed be an egalitarian paradise on Earth if only everyone could be just exactly like the firemen, people who would run into burning buildings for no glory, no extra money, just because a building burned and there were lives to be saved."


Watt O'Hugh and the Innocent Dead ends the trilogy, but I feel it won't be the last we see of our pulp hero. While the novel may not give fans closure, it certainly gives continuation and a new adventure in a new world. Worth a read if you are a fan and if not, I strongly recommend the first novel, The Ghosts of Watt O'Hugh. Get a taste for it and see where you go from there.  


You may also want to read our reviews of The Ghosts of Watt O'Hugh and Watt O'Hugh Underground.

Jumpship Hope   by Adria Laycraft

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Jumpship Hope starts with a familiar dystopian theme and quickly takes off into outer space adventure.

Something is seriously wrong with the planet earth. Everything alive—trees, plants, insects, mammals, etc. —seems to be infected and dying. The best scientists left—in orbit around the blue (but no longer green) planet—are working furiously to discover a solution to the problem. But their lack of progress is beyond frustrating for impetuous fighter pilot Janlin. 

The only other human colony on Mars has shut its ports, effectively condemning the orbiting humans to a slow death…unless they find a cure.

But Janlin has another plan. 

Escape.

With a few other military types, including her ex-lover, Janlin jumps to another galaxy to see if another inhabitable planet can be found. Her mission follows another, led by her father, that departed previously and was never heard from again.

Things cannot be more desperate. Resources are running thin. Earth is doomed. There won’t be another opportunity to use the “jump” technology before the inhabitants of the orbiting space station die.

I’ll say right here that Jumpship Hope is a great ride, because from here on out there are some spoilers. Stop reading this review if you prefer to keep the surprises intact.

Almost immediately upon arriving at their destination, Jumpship Hope is seized by aliens. 

Aliens?! The humans didn’t even know that aliens existed.

The crew is captured and pressed into slavery. The aliens’ primary goal seems to be to force the humans to reveal the “jump” technology so that they can take over Earth, but in the face of slave labor and torture the humans manage to resist.

For how long?

The previous human “jump” expedition was also captured by the aliens, and Janlin is forced to work beneath the woman who took her ex-lover away from her. While trying to come up with a plan of resistance and escape from the aliens, Janlin also tries to find out what happened to her missing father and other members of the previous expedition.

The aliens are not a monolith, however, and soon Janlin finds that there exist other species and divisions within the species that can be exploited, if only she can survive long enough, learn the alien cultures, and sort through the complicated web of spies and betrayals.

All in all Jumpship Hope is a lot of fun. Some of the torture scenes are a little rough; I had to skim a few paragraphs. I wouldn’t recommend this as a YA book. It reminded me quite a bit of a much shorter Battlefield Earth. 

Martians Aboard   by Carrie Vaughn

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Being a teenager is hard. Well, 'hard' is too nice--it all around kind of sucks. Sure, from a physical standpoint most are never healthier than at this stage in your life, though the rapid changes in the body typically makes many unsure of how to use or express their bodies with a healthy does of clumsiness. The real problem is that one enters the purgatory between heaven, enjoying childhood, and hell, the terror that is adulthood. On top of that, teenagers are all shepherded together, hormones raging, with no one knowing what to do--so they just take it all out on the weaker ones. 


If that seems bad, imagine if you had to go through the whole thing on another planet surrounded by strangers.


Polly Newton is a Martian (a human child that was born and raised on Mars). She has a near solitary vision of becoming a starship pilot, allowing her to escape the confines of her home planet that, though it has been colonized for some time, is mostly still Spartan. Polly's mother is the director of the Mars colony that should help aide Polly in achieving her aim. However, her mother, like most parents, wants more for her child and intends to ship Polly and her twin brother, Charles, off to Earth where one of the most prestigious schools in the galaxy resides, the Galileo Academy.


No matter how much Polly protests, her mother doesn't have the faintest notion of giving into her. Charles is the calmer, colder, and more calculating of the two twins. He sees the trip to the school as some sort of game to master. The siblings embark on a slow journey toward Earth that allows them to begin to adjust to the gravity differences while they are introduced to several other children from other extraterrestrial places such as the Moon and various space stations. One of their fellow travelers is Ethan Achebe, an heir to a fortune and someone Polly finds herself attracted to.


On Earth the off-worlders are less than welcomed by their peers or the teaching staff. Not only do they have to deal with kids their own age that are mean to any and everything that has the slightest bit of difference, the crew has to deal with things such a higher gravity and a lack of customs the other kids grew up with. As Polly, Charles, and the rest of the gang attempt to deal with fitting in on a strange new world, odd things begin to happen. First, they start as small failures on assignments that force them to come up with new ways to solve the issues, but these oddities quickly snowball into near fatal struggles where the children must band together and figure out what is happening before one of them dies.


I'm not familiar with any of Vaughn's earlier work so I got to look this over with a fresh set of eyes. With obvious homages to Heinlein abounding everywhere, Martians Abroad is one part coming of age, one part mystery, and one part positive science fiction. The intended readers are young adults and I think it has more than enough appeal for young women and even some young men. The mystery aspect felt a little too "Nancy Drew-ish" at times and there were a few red herrings that were obvious red herrings. It is not going to keep many people guessing but it does help advance the plot and build the coming of age story quite a bit.


The science part was a fresh relief. With a mild Star Trek feel to it, the book takes a positive look at technology and where it can bring us. I feel that the overwhelming majority of recent sci-fi, for both young adults and full-blown adults, tends to lean too much toward dystopia. Sure, utopic thinking and writing make most of sit back and point out how flimsy those houses of cards usually are, but it doesn't mean we have to be all doom and gloom. Vaughn kept the science pretty tight as well and didn't allow any type of technology that it is so advanced it seems like magic sneak in. Instead, the characters had to do things such as spend months adjusting to gravitational differences; space ships didn't fly much faster than they do now; and so forth. There was also a rather touching moment on the flight to Earth where the pilot allowed Polly up on the bridge, something that adults with an eye on mentoring can learn from.


For its target audience, I think the book is pretty much a perfect fit. Adults who aren't finely attuned to YA may see some of the lesson learning a bit heavy handed but get a nice kick out of the Heinlein homages. With mankind's exploration of Mars right around the corner, Martians Abroad is a great book to get younger generations thinking more about it.

Crisis of Control   by Peter J. Scott

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Horror is fun as it gives us a chance to be scared in a controlled manner. In our hunter-gatherer days there were plenty of things to jump out of the dark and get us, less so now. Perhaps this drives us toward scares that our system needs to be running in top gear. Of all the things that go bump in the night or could happen, one of the more frightening things may be looking in the mirror or toward our future. Technology has changed our lives dramatically in the last decade. Mankind is practically a cyborg now with our smartphones being an extension of our selves. However, the next big disruption lie right around the corner with artificial intelligence (AI), and it may not be as helpful.



Roughly a decade into our future, several viruses are ravaging mankind. A small band of survivors are looking for a way to get off world. Those that are left here on Earth turn to AI to seek answers. They quickly find that the AI no more cares about helping them than we care about helping a sick ant. As the characters are left pondering their fate the book abruptly switches from being a novel to non-fiction. Not aware of this going in, I actually found this to be a pleasant surprise. 



At this point, Scott artfully defines what AI is as well as its short, but interesting history up to this point. There is much in the media about AI and has been for some time, especially thanks to sci-fi books and movies. However, most of what we see and hear isn't quite right. Scott breaks down the truth of AI and distills it in a way that is accessible to most readers (though, admittedly, there are still a few things so complex it is difficult to wrap one's mind around). Scott also takes time to weigh the potential downfalls, which tend more toward wiping out jobs--especially in the field of coding versus AI becoming Skynet and killing all of us. (AI can write its own code.) Scott also details all the benefits of AI. 


It is nice for someone to look at the situation with a rational mind as opposed to going into hysterics over whether AI will kill or save us.



Scott tends to point to AI being inevitable in our future. However, he clearly lays out various methods of making it safe and beneficial to society in general. And he bookends his argument by revisiting his fictional characters with a bit more hope than they saw at the beginning of the book.



My bread and butter comes from writing in the Information Technology (IT) field. I can tell you that AI is quickly reaching out through various branches of IT, though it hasn't made much of an impact as far as jobs are concerned; it hasn't made any effort to kill all humans either. But the reduction of jobs will come and soon. When that comes about there won't be humans on the other side of the revolution making a new market (think telephone infrastructure rising up to replace messenger boys). So we will need people like Peter Scott to help us shape the future we are stepping into whether we want to or not.



Crisis Of Control is a book that makes you think, especially late at night when you can't sleep. Scott is excellent at lying down the risks and benefits of AI and how we should attempt to pursue its usage moving forward. The danger is real, so arming oneself with more knowledge of how to potentially mitigate it is always a plus. Buy a copy for yourself and maybe forward one to the guys at Facebook and Google that are playing with fire in a straw house.




Monster Town   by Bruce Golden

Reviewed by William Santorik

If you'd like to travel to a place unlike any you've ever visited, take a trip to Monster Town. It's just around the corner from dark humor, up the road from reality. Bruce Golden's newest book not only isn't like any of his others, and it's not really comparable to any I've read before.


Envision a world where the old movie monsters of black and white horror cinema were actually real people (real monsters?)--actors who played themselves in those films. What if those melodramatic flicks lost their popularity and the monsters had to find other jobs to support themselves? What if they were shunned by their fellow movie-makers and took up residence in a town just outside of Hollywood? In the world Golden has created, all of this has happened to create the setting for Monster Town. But movie monsters aren't the only target of his literary wit (and I use the term "literary" in its most basic form).


Golden has also taken on the genre of the hard-boiled detective story, and the film noir which evolved from it. Monster Town is narrated in first person

by private detective Dirk Slade, and it's in his narration that this story reveals its true self. If you listen carefully, you can hear it in the book's first two lines.


It was a hard wet rain that beat an ominously staccato rhythm on the roof of my Packard as I drove to the outskirts of the city. Thunder rumbled overhead like a bowling ball sliding down a corrugated tin roof, and I imagined the ferocious whipcracks of lightning tearing great rents in time and space.


A "hard wet rain" is the first signal that Golden is going to push the boundaries of that old hard-boiled narration with satire.  A "bowling ball sliding down a corrugated tin roof" is the metaphoric leap past the perimeter of those boundaries, and "ferocious whipcracks of lightning tearing great rents in time and space" warn the reader to expect otherworldly encounters.


The tenor of this tale lies in its subtly satirical presentation, and, of course, its quirky characters. Sure, it's funny to see the Hunchback of Notre Dame tending bar and Frankenstein's monster as a high school football coach, but the way Golden writes it, there's no silliness. He plays the plot straight.


Initially, Slade is hired to find the missing son of the town's wealthiest entrepreneur--one Vladamir Prince. Prince is better known by his cinematic name--Dracula. But Slade's search for the missing teen gets sidetracked when his own best friend, a reporter, is murdered. The quest to find whodunit evolves into much more, including a secret which endangers the life of every citizen in Monster Town. That "danger" is taken right out of today's headlines, but

revealing it here would spoil the intrigue.


Along with the usual suspects one would expect from a monstrous lineup (Wolfman, Leech Woman, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde), comes the character of Kink. She's a fairy with a tarnished reputation, formerly a star of movies for kids, now ostracized from Hollywood and banished to Monster Town because of a sex scandal. She tags along with her friend Slade on occasion, stealing every scene she's in with her hilarious in-your-face personality.


Humor, however, especially satire, is tricky thing. Sometimes your take on it aligns with the author's, and sometimes you just don't get it. In this particular case, Monster Town worked for me, whether it was the often over-the-top narration or the hard-boiled clichés that were twisted just so.


Night crept over the city like it was slithering out of the grave. The storm had moved on and there was a stillness in the air that wasn’t altogether natural.

But I was in Monster Town, and strange was always on the menu.


Of course, what would a private dick be without a dangerous dame in his life. For Slade it's a torch singer who once was Wasp Woman. He

doesn't totally trust her, but he's smitten just the same.


It wasn't just her appearance that had changed. She came out of that bedroom with a whole different attitude. I could see it on her face—even in the way she carried herself. And a beautiful carriage it was. I watched her go to her kitchenette, thinking one thing hadn't changed. She was still wearing that body to die for. However, I wasn't ready for a cold slab in the morgue just yet.


Like any good gumshoe, Slade always has a snappy comeback to pull out of his trench coat.


When I got close, a couple of ragged-looking young toughs moved in front of me. One of them pulled a knife and said, "One more step and I'll stick you like a pig, then gut you like a fish."


"Make up your mind," I replied. "Am I pork or the catch of the day?"


The reason I believe this brand of satire works so well, is that the author doesn't do it so much with a sneer, as he does it with a tip of the fedora. He's not belittling these genres as much as he is paying them homage. My only complaint with the book is that it's too short. I wanted more.


Monster Town is fast-moving, full of brutish thugs and femme fatales, and funny in a way that may not have you laughing out loud, but will leave your inner self chuckling all the way to the last page. And, as Dirk Slade was often heard to say, that's jake with me. 



William Santorik has been a journalist for more than two decades, writing reviews for books, plays, films, and television, as well as other journalistic endeavors.

Shattered Fates   by Rebecca Roland

Reviewed by Adria Laycraft

If you are loving the renewed discussion on the importance of strong female leads thanks to the new Wonder Woman movie, you might want to consider reading Rebecca Roland's Shards of History books. Published by World Weaver Press, Shattered Fates is the conclusion of a three-book series, and has not one but two powerful female leaders as primary characters. Not only do we see this leadership in a matriarchal culture, where we expect it, we see it in an oppressive one too, and watch all the drama that comes with standing up and demanding change.


While one could wish the messages of decency and equality weren't so needed, unfortunately they are - perhaps more than ever today. Thank Goodness we have authors like Roland to bring us these themes through an engaging story, where current issues are expressed in strange lands by strange people.


"The dragons were listening." 


Dragons are always a perfect addition to any fantasy series, and I enjoy how they are a vital part of the story without being the entire story. I especially love the message that we are all one, all linked, and all deserving respect. The real message of Shattered Fates is how optimal it can be to work with others instead of trying to control them; of choosing communication over domination.


The basis of the story is a war between the patriarchal Maddion and the matriarchal society, the Taakwa. The Maddion are dragon-riding and bloodthirsty. But underneath, they are a society divided. Chanwa, wife of the Maddion leader, is plotting a coup to give Maddion women the place in society she thinks they deserve.


Laced with inventive world-building, lovable characters, quick-paced action, and incredible magic systems, Shattered Fates is a timely tale of the horrid sacrifices and effort often demanded both when you stand up for what's right, and when you are forced to protect your own.


Roland has an understanding of the issues victims of abuse face, and helps the reader understand how difficult it can be to make any changes at all. She portrays toxic behavior in a way that can bring vital understanding home to those who may not recognize it when they see it in the real world. The characters act out so many issues we face today, and they do it in a safe fantasy world to (hopefully) allow us to see it without bias. 


"You'll drown in him." 


The magic systems are amazingly unique and fascinating, especially because of the way the characters learn as they go how their magic works when joined with another's. Roland went the extra mile in developing her world's magic systems, inventing overlapping cultures each with their own special talents that were all necessary and important to the story's plot line.


Roland also does a wonderful job of using foreshadowing to bring us a few delightful plot twists that still resonated and made perfect sense. Shattered Fates is an engaging read, pulling us along through rising tension and increasing odds to a breathtaking ending. It's also nice to see a 'happily ever after' that doesn't feel cheesy at all, but instead warms the heart.


I highly recommend Shattered Fates and the two preceding books in the series (Shards of History Volumes I and II), especially for those seeking a fantastical view of what hope could look like for our world today.




Willful Child: Wrath of Betty  by Steven Erikson

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Sci-Fi typically takes one of two roads when painting a picture of the future: everything has rapidly advanced for the overall betterment and a crisis arises or everything has fallen apart and some crisis arises. But what if we took humanity as it is now (hiding behind screens to lob horrible insults at one another that we would never issue face to face, aligning ourselves with political identities in all regards, an obsession with the trivial and banal... I could go on and on.) and give them the advanced technology one would find in the Star Trek universe. It would be messy and unusual, but entertaining.


Captain Hadrian Sawback, handsome, dashing, young, and all too full of himself, is still holding the reins of the spaceship Willful Child. However his mad antics—which closely align with the same shenanigans that Captain Kirk got up to in the original run of Star Trek—are making the rest of the Federation angry. Not only are these stunts ridiculous and dangerous, Sawback keeps winning--making them look bad. No one hates Sawback more than Captain Hans Solo, the second youngest captain, who feels that the glory should be his. The Federation determines to work with Captain Solo to follow Sawback, wait until his urge to do something brave and stupid kicks in, and then sabotage him.


The adventures that Sawback goes on come rapid fire and hit just about every sci-fi cliché that comes to mind. These include entering a parallel universe where women are the dominate gender, going back in time, and heading to a planet of robots (a planet similar to a deserted Walmart trying to sell everyone something). At the center of all of these actions are the Captain, he essential crew, and the ships AI in the form of a chicken, Tammy Wynette.


Though I read and enjoyed the first book quite a bit, I'm a bit more conflicted about this one. The pacing was a bit choppy, but that was no different than the first, and it fit in with the "episodic" nature of the adventures. I guess I felt that Erikson didn't balance out the action and comedy as well here. The entire thing felt like it was rushing from one episode to the next to the point it became nauseating. I felt that he could have easily made this book nearly twice as long by focusing on one set of events as opposed to dropping one after the next in the readers' laps.


That not to say it was all bad, far from it. Erikson is good at making points wrapped in action and comedy. And as sexist and bigoted as Sawback can be at times, he, like Captain Kirk in the 60's, makes very good points. I especially liked how the book pointed out how science fiction culture as been appropriated by movie studios and corporations to turn both loyal fans as well as masses of others into customers (this can clearly be seen through "nerd" culture and the "science is awesome" types that have little knowledge of basic science or about the characters they care so much about, they just want to buy more movie tickets). Erikson seems to hit a nerve when he poked fun at the two major political parties in the U.S. While he took it to an extreme (and it was very funny in my opinion on both sides) the hyper-partisan times we live in seems to have brewed up a handful of negative reviews on that one issue. My advice: don't let that that stop you from reading it and learn to laugh at yourself some.


He also once again touched on consumerism and its overwhelming presence in our current society. This was a good point and had plenty of humor, but felt a bit too heavy handed. It had a Wall-E feel to it. I think sometimes messages can just be so heavy they weigh down the narrative and did so in this case.


Overall, Willful Child was funny and a fairly quick read. I think picking it up, and the first book, is worth the time. If you aren't aware of some real nerd culture you'll miss a lot of the jokes, which is unfortunate. But if the original Star Trek holds a special place in your heart and you can take a joke, by all means read it. If this isn't you but sounds like someone you know, get it for them.

28 Minutes into the Future / Anthology  by Chrome Oxide

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

If you can imagine Ayn Rand writing humor, then you would be about halfway there. If you can then imagine Rand writing humorous short fiction (quite a stretch given that John Gault’s famous speech in Atlas Shrugged ran 60 pages), then you would have arrived at the world of Chrome Oxide, the funniest, most poignant satirist I have read in ages.

28 Minutes into the Future is Chrome’s first book, a collection of nine hilarious, subversive tales of an earth we know, but not quite as we know it. It’s earth just a little bit askew with fantasy or sci-fi elements (depending on the story), but definitely recognizable to those people willing to look up from their political marching orders.

My personal favorite was “Vampire Free Zone.” Told from a Vampire’s point of view, the story shows the absurdity behind “gun free zones” on college campuses and the like. The vampire walks into a blood bank where a sign reading “Vampire Free Zone” hangs, along with a smaller sign reading “Gun Free Zone.”

“I stopped in to ask about the signs in the window?” asks the vampire.

[The receptionist] replies, “You’re not the first to ask. Rand told me he hung the vampire sign when he started the blood bank six years ago. I thought that because his sign worked to keep away vampires, I’d put up a sign to keep away guns.”

With a strong predilection for libertarianism, Chrome Oxide’s fiction reflects for us the tyrannies of everyday life. It’s tough to be a free spirit when laws in the California Republic of Autonomous People are enforced by the dreaded Amalgamated Security Services.

In the real California, our governor has been doing a victory tour for reducing the crime rate, when said crime rate has gone down because proposition 47 has required misdemeanor sentencing to replace felony sentencing for myriad crimes, including such minor offenses as grand theft, receiving stolen property, forgery, fraud, and more, as long as the dollar amount of stolen goods does not exceed $950.

So when Brother Ruger of the Church of the Second Right (“Election Day Murders”) says, “Just like the government lowered the high unemployment numbers by not counting jobless people, they recently reduced the crime rate by requiring victims to file the correct forms with the correct departments and to pay the correct processing fees,” it has the ring of truth.

In fact, more like a veritas gong.

“Who would have ever guessed that murder victims don’t report their demise,” quips the protagonist.

28 Minutes into the Future is a slim book, 112 pages, with nine stories in it. “Cop for a Day,” the opening story, previously appeared in the excellent anthology Writers of the Future XXiX. Most of the other eight stories have never been published.

Every one of the stories had me smiling, and some had me laughing out loud. At the same time, each story had me shaking my head at how close to the mark they are. I highly recommend pick it up, so that the next time someone from the Department of Places Where Historical Persons May Have Visited (“Gateway”) declares your outhouse a historical landmark, you’ll know what to do.

28 Minutes into the Future is a funny, refreshing break from the entertainment culture’s quasi-ubiquitous political correctness. It takes courage to write such a ‘subversive’ view, and courage to publish it. Bravo to Chrome Oxide for being willing to reveal his non-conformist ideas, and to Superversive Press for publishing it.

The Hike  by Drew Magary

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

There are moments in our life where we just want to get away from it all, if only for a little bit. Whether it be work getting us down because the boss overlooks our potential because of a tiny mistake, or because of a family life where everyone seems to be demanding our attention to address ten things at once, sometimes we just want to get a few moments alone in silence, maybe go for a walk, or a hike. A hike would be great, unless you get trapped in it forever.

 

Ben is the typical family man. He goes on largely uneventful business trips a few times a year as a large portion of us all do. He has a wife and kids he loves and the usual problems we all face: bills, the kids' health, stress from work and the like. The only thing that really sets Ben apart is a large scar that runs down the side of his face from a dog attack when he was a child. Getting away from everything in life sounds good at first, but after a flight, Ben finds himself in a strange hotel room with the sights and sounds he's grown accustomed to missing. Ben could hit the gym, or the mini bar, but instead he has picked up the habit of taking walks. Since there is a path through the woods he decides on a nice hike before getting down to business.

 

The hike starts off normal enough. Ben takes in the different scenery and smoothly moves along until he comes across what appears to be a gristly murder still in progress. The men carrying out the murder are wearing the cut-off faces of dogs like masks. Worse yet, they see Ben and begin to chase him. Ben barely makes it away from them before coming onto something much stranger: a little old woman that promises to help him if he does chores around her house. From this point on Ben finds himself on a strange journey where he must stay on a path that leads to something that could very well be his death. Along the way he encounters a sarcastic and curmudgeonly talking crab, a man eating giant, a series of strange demon monsters wanting him to do their bidding, as well as a fourteenth century Spanish explorer.

 

The author Drew Magary walks a fine line with this book. He lets the reader put their toes in the water of fantasy while managing to keep the rest of them planted in more realistic fiction, a higher level of absurdness with a foundation grounded in reality. Ben's journey at times can be heart wrenching and even suffocating, then Magary injects the book with enough humor and silliness to raise the spirits of the reader while keeping Ben out of sorts and confused.  Another gamble I saw here was centering a book on a lone character for the majority versus having some fort of foil present. I felt the sole man on a quest worked well in The Hike, as we are presented with a few companions and adversaries throughout as well as the setting being in a constant state of flux.

 

While a broad audience can enjoy this book with its strong writing, humor, character development, and enough zaniness to keep just about anyone entertained, I think there is a subset of readers that will particularly find The Hike appealing. I was reading The Hike on a business trip in China where a short walk turned into a 4-hour trek that almost got me hit by a bus and a near miss of either getting beat-up by, or arrested by, a cop. Several other business travelers have told me similar stories of being a bit bored or adventurous, and having a small side trip take on a radically different feel faster than they expected.

 

The Hike will keep you reading, make you laugh, and make you sad to see it come to an end. Magary does a good job of going in multiple directions that all seem correct and then pulling it all together for an extremely satisfying ending. Buy a copy for yourself and then a copy for anyone you know that is about to go on a boring, standard business trip.

Girls' Adventure Stories of Long Ago  Poetry by Viki Holmes

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

It seems appropriate to review a poetry collection in NewMyths since Duotrope has named us one of the top online markets for speculative poetry. I’d like to start with a remarkable book from Hong Kong-based writer Viki Holmes.

The first thing you will probably notice about the book is the cover, repurposed from a poster for Girls, a comedy by playwright Clyde Fitch. Apparently the plot of Fitch’s sex comedy involves women forming a “man hater’s club.” It was made into a movie in 1919, but is assumed to be a “lost film” as no copies of it remain to anyone’s knowledge. The plot sounds like an absolute riot, but nothing to do with Holmes’ Girls’ Adventure Stories of Long Ago so far as I can tell. In any case, our book benefits from the beautiful and evocative artwork.

Girls’ Adventure Stories is divided into twelve Chapters. Chapter the First is titled In which our heroine wakes in the ordinary world, and surrounds herself with stories. Right away we expect the writing to be aloof but stirring, the poet informed in craft and motivated by inspiration. 

Here I run into a problem with reviewing poetry. I really want to give you examples of the at-times mesmerizing language, but to copy much is to risk infringing on copyright. Let me put down only the opening lines of “Mnemosyne wakes” to give you a taste of what you’ll find inside Girls’ Adventure Stories:


Wrapped in red brocade, she pushes aside the stray hairs of the morning. Across the street, blue sparks from a welder’s fire, images cast on the ceiling of the sky.

And so the story begins. Mnemosyne was the Greek goddess of memory, and also the mother to the muses. Appropriate, being as one’s muse is linked or crafted by our experiences through  the transformative agent of memory.

The opening poems are narrative poems. Others are more traditionally formatted, while still others use shape to nice effect. “Duty-Free,” for example, is presented in the shape of an airplane. All are written in free verse rather than using fixed rhythm and meter. 

While its Amazon description states that the book is inspired by Joseph Campbell’s Hero With a Thousand Faces, Holmes’ collection reads as more autobiographical than mythical. Or rather, it reads as autobiography driven through and shaped by a tunnel of myths and legends, British, European, and Asian. Much as the British author herself, now a resident of Hong Kong, has been shaped by those three great civilizations. For example, the third poem wears the same title as the book, and recites mini-adventures from nine different women, representative of a diversity of life experiences, before landing on the tenth woman, Viki (the author’s name), who gets a whole series of mini-adventures. The poem ends with:

she still believed everything she read in books.

The collection’s twelve chapters do follow the outline in Campbell’s “Hero’s Journey.” Chapters progress from In which our heroine is ready to begin her journey and crosses over into new worlds, through In which our heroine must decide whether to return home or commit to a higher purpose, to finally In which our heroine returns home with the elixir of knowledge.

With the craft and care that Viki Holmes has put into her Hero’s Journey, Girls’ Adventure Stories of Long Ago is a voyage you will want to share. Let us hope Viki Holmes still does believe everything she reads in books.


Three Wells of the Sea by Terry Madden

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Three Wells of the Sea is a thoroughly enjoyable Celtic fantasy. There are druids and kings, mistresses and magic, betrayals, reversals and surprises galore. In tone it reminds me of Tad Williams To Green Angel Tower, though Three Wells is shorter by several hundred pages. (I'm not entirely sure why Terry Madden's book reminds me of Tad Williams's opus, but I can't get the comparison out of my mind.)


Madden's story begins in our modern world with a young man, Connor, about to be punished by the principal of his school. He is "rescued" by the intervention of his English teacher, Dish. Connor isn't particularly happy with this turn of events, as his dearest wish is to be kicked out of boarding school. 


Given the teacher's apparent interest in the troubled student, the principal puts Connor under Dish's supervision. Dish is coach of the track team, and so Connor has to start running. Literally. Connor finds that running gives him something to strive for, and his attitude begins to improve. (This was a relief, as I wasn't thrilled with the idea of spending an entire novel with a whiner.) But their relationship isn't that simple. Dish has some sort of connection with another realm. A magical Celtic realm, located beyond certain magical waters.

Whether or not Dish is entirely aware of his connection with this other realm we aren't quite sure, but he certainly isn't eager to bring Connor into his adventures (hallucinations?).


One of the things I found most enjoyable here—and I think you will, too—is that the characters frequently misunderstand each other. They often ascribe to each other incorrect motivation and falsely assign blame. Their collisions and conflict are occasionally avoidable, if only they could see the overall story as clearly as the reader. They almost feel human in this respect. 


I should also mention that many of the characters are deceitful. Lies and double-crosses become unmasked as the plot unfolds, often too late for the "hero" characters to do anything about them.


The reader, too, remains a couple of steps behind in understanding, giving us a delectable sense of surprise. 


Or dismay.


To me, this all shows that Three Wells of the Sea is both a character-driven and plot-driven story. 


Shortly after our introduction to Dish and Connor in this world, we are treated with a look into the magical realm of druids and kings, where a woman named Ava just managed to have herself declared Queen of the land. On the run, the druid Lyleth refuses to accept the queen, and forms a dangerous and unlikely plan—to resurrect the former king to wage war on Queen Ava.


Naturally she is pursued.


The druid Lyleth succeeds—partly. The newly-resurrected king doesn't have the markings of leadership, tattoos that he wore in life. Without these marks of approval from the spirits, can he succeed in gaining the loyalty of the clans? Is he even the rightful king at all?


The druid Lyleth isn't sure.


The two worlds, modern and mythical Celtic, overlap through magical "wells" or bodies of water. I will leave the discovery of that, and its significance, to your reading.


Three Wells is part of a series but if you are impatient, never fear, it comes to a satisfying conclusion all its own. According to the blurb, the next installment in the series begins six years later.


Overall, I enthusiastically endorse this book as a worthy addition to Celtic cannon. If you are a fan of Celtic literature, or have fond memories of To Green Angel Tower in particular, pick up Three Wells of the Sea as fast as you can.

Fragment  A Novel by Craig Russell

Reviewed by Adria Laycraft

Imagine introducing a new sentient race to the world. Imagine climate change alarmist stories coming true right before your eyes. Imagine how much good can be done in an emergency by a small group of like-minded people. Put all that together with interesting and relevant science, and you have Fragment. Written by Canadian author Craig Russell, the book opens with a straightforward explanation of the heat of fusion, revealing why ice is such resilient stuff even in the face of temperatures above freezing. 


"Consider the nature of ice," Russell writes. "The heat of fusion is one of its mysteries." In one page, the first page, Russell captures the reader's interest and launches them into an adventure full of unexpected turns and fascinating science. Oh, and throw in a cruise ship, a nuclear sub, a small sailboat, and a lonely whale for good measure.


Fragment is a string of all-too-plausible events that were obviously well-researched. While a journalist in America interviews a scientist live in Antarctica, the Antarctic Ross Sea Ice Shelf is shoved free of the continent. In a perfect storm of conditions, a 'berg half the size of Kentucky is created. No one can predict where the behemoth will strike land, and debates begin immediately over possibilities. 


Three glaciers travel on the back of the ice sheet, and as Russell illustrates, fetch (the distance available for the waves to build on open water) is infinite in the Drake Passage, causing the ice shelf to gain momentum. Most people predictably deny there's much danger, and the POTUS puts his main man to work spinning events in a favourable light. But lives and homes are at risk, and when a mismatched team of believers try to get the word out, help comes from the most unexpected places. 


The intriguing asides regarding the science at hand enhance the story and reveal just how plausible this near-future science fiction story really is, while also adding imagery to the events around them. "There are a variety of physical factors that affect the Fragment," Russell writes in one interposition. "The first is gravity. Because of its size it's not really a flat object at all. It actually curves across the surface of the earth, like the last piece of skin to be peeled off an orange." 


Russell leads us on a thoughtful and daring undertaking that captures global issues and weaves them into a personable story of real humans doing the best they can with what they have... and surprising themselves in the process. This novel also celebrates the spirit of chasing an idea against all rules and skepticism standing in the way, and how that can often lead to the biggest discoveries of all. 


Released on October 1, 2016, Fragment follows Russell's Black Bottle Man, which won the 2011 American Moonbeam Award gold medal for Young Adult Fantasy and was a finalist for the Canadian Prix Aurora Awards and two Manitoba book awards.


Horseshoes, Hand Grenades and Magic  Edited by Manny Frishberg

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Contributors: Leah Cutter, G. David Nordley, Blaze Ward, Irene Radford, Frog & Esther Jones, Bob Brown, Voss Foster, SB Sebrick, Sanan Kolva, Manny Frishberg, and Bruce Taylor


Almost is a double-edged sword. There are times where almost can be just as good as what you were after. For instance, if you wanted to become a millionaire and were a few dollars short, you would most likely still be pretty happy. However, with the 2016 Olympics currently going on, if you trained your whole life and took fourth place in a sport, almost wouldn’t cut it. The best beats good enough every time. Still, life is a series of compromises. And while we don’t always get what we want, we are more than happy to settle for close enough in most cases. 


Horseshoes, Hand Grenades, And Magic is a small collection of eleven stories that deal with being close enough, and most of the stories have at least one of the items listed in the title. The stories range from dogs that make sure important magic babies are born. Bigfoot revealing himself only to tell the world that it is in imminent danger and only he can save us, maybe. An elf that was cursed with a werespider body finds magic that will change him into…something better. Two students travel through time to prove one another wrong about a theory. A thief unwittingly saves a king from an assassin to become a hero. A space fighter leads his fleet into what he believes may be victory. And a bad wizard uses the wrong spell to turn his friend into the desire of all the females in town; the only problem is the females are not human.


This was a strange collection in general. It was theme-based and therefore mixed up several genres, jumping from one to the next. While this was a bit jarring it was also refreshing. Sometimes one wants to have a little taste of everything on the menu and that isn’t always possible with any given collection or magazine. 


While some stories were definitely stronger and resonated more than others, none of the eleven stunk out loud (though a couple of stories I had to reread before starting the review; not poorly written, just not terribly memorable). I found “What Dreams May Go” to be the best overall, though it was the least speculative and arguably the most literary story in the bunch. One story that stuck in my head was “Feet Of Clay.” While reading it I didn’t think I was going to like it but found that the imagery within isn’t something easily forgotten. 


There were a few funny stories contained herein as well. “The Off Switch” is an abnormal bigfoot/first contact story with a few good laughs as well as something to think about. And “One-Horse Wonder” was chock full of laughs in a misadventure of two anti-heroes that are trying to get something to eat and some money and aren’t really interested in saving the day. The story also uses magic to turn the Harem fantasy of men on its head. 


The collection is worth a read. While there are no super well-known authors here there is a chance to get to know some new ones. A few stories within this collection deserve a few rereads as they are well written and much fun. Others are more nuanced and allow the reader to catch new insights the second time through. And while tongue wasn’t firmly in cheek in this collection, there are a few authors that took that fantasy genre (a genre I feel takes itself too seriously at times) and had a lot of fun with it. 


So pick it up and read it from cover to cover. Or just read the good stories, almost is good enough in most cases. 



A Witch's Kitchen  by Dianna Sanchez

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Fantasy has a fine tradition of humorous literature. Among the giants of the field, Robert Aspirin, Terry Pratchet and Craig Shaw Gardner come immediately to mind. There is something about the fantasy genre that lends itself to farce, satire, parody, joke-telling, in fact, all types and blends of humor--perhaps because of the stereotypical characters, perhaps the black-and-white of many of the plots, perhaps the fact that anything at all is possible. 


A Witch's Kitchen by Dianna Sanchez is a worthy addition to the cannon. I would like to note, with more than a touch of pride, that you all know Dianna Sanchez by the name of Jenise Aminoff, as she is a past editor of New Myths. (See Issue 29.) 


The plot revolves around Ludmilla's (Millie's) attempts to find herself. Poor Millie just isn't cutting it as a witch. While her cooking is to die for, her potions might actually get someone killed. Her mother, witch-extraordinaire Bogdana, has does her best to guide her in the right direction, but Millie's imagination keeps zinging back to food and her concoctions go awry. (A terrible curse turning into delicious chocolate, for example.) She hasn't even earned her witch's hat.


Everyone has given up hope on Millie, everyone from her mother to Millie herself. 


Cooking is the one thing I'm good at, Millie pines to herself. Why can't I just do that?


But lo, in a meeting with the powerful Baba Luci, the Baba offers to send Millie as the witch's representative to the Enchanted Forest School as a sort of goodwill gesture to the Enchanted Forest Council. To the skepticism of most and the derision of a few, Millie accepts the assignment.


Enchanted Forest School (EFS) has denizens from virtually all the forest people—goblins, pixies, fairies, gnomes, imps… It's basically the fantasy version of the Chalmun's Cantina from Star Wars.


While we have seen the hodgepodge of otherworldly creature settings plenty of times before, Enchanted Forest School offers up some deliciously funny surprises. For example, the School itself is a sentient tree. 


The first couple of chapters in EFS recall a humorous version of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, though I'm not sure whether this borrows from that or much older literature. Youths going to school to learn to use magic has a long tradition, it's just that Harry Potter made readers more universally aware of the tradition nowadays. So the basic premise won't win points for originality, but the strength here is on the author's interpretation of the trope. I for one was very fond of it.


A Witch's Kitchen chronicles Millie's adventures trying to discover who she really is and what her various skills can add up to. Along the way we get lots of humor, some adventure, some danger, and a nice peek into ourselves and what we may be missing that is right under our noses.


It's hard to review a humorous book in a basically humorless review, but take my word for it, this will give you plenty of laughs and some intellectual manna to chew on as well. I for one really enjoyed A Witch's Kitchen and I think you will too.



Departure  by A. G. Riddle

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

My entire life I’ve had an unexplained fear of airplanes. To be more specific, I have had reoccurring dreams of being in a plane crash and possibly not surviving with all the burning and the explosions and screaming. I find that I am getting on planes more and more the older I get and even though I’m told “flying is the safest way to fly” (I was told this by several different people before taking a transcontinental flight that made two emergency landings, though I think the safest way to travel may still be in an elevator), it still makes me clench when I take off and land. Though I know this is a common fear, reading books about plane crashes while riding on a plane is less common. Reading a book about a plane crash where the few survivors face even more horrors is something most fliers should avoid--unless they really want to find something interesting.


A routine flight from New York to London is about to have some problems and not just from the unruly passenger in first class that has been hitting the overpriced booze a litter too hard. The boozehound is making it difficult for everyone in the cabin including writer, Harper Lane, and the mysterious yet handsome Nick Stone. Nick intervenes, saving everyone from what could potentially be a very ugly scene. As he settles in and attempts to introduce himself to Harper, the plane tears itself apart.


The plane crashes in the remote English countryside. And by remote I mean so far from civilization that there are no lights, no people, and no cell service. The few survivors (which include our protagonists, Nick and Harper) have to launch a daring rescue of the others trapped on one half of the plane that is sinking in a lake. After lives are saved, the group has to start wondering why no search parties have come looking for them hours later. And why in modern times are they in a place with absolutely no cellular service. What’s generally thought of as a “first world problem” takes on a different meaning when people are bleeding to death and society has lost so many skills.


Why learn something when you could always just look it up on your phone on a Google or YouTube search?


If things didn’t seem bad enough, something strange is going on with two of the survivors. One is a computer scientist, Yul Tan, that despite everything happening won’t stop his work. And a genetic researcher, Sabrina Schröder, seems to know something about what is happening--and seems to have some sort of previous relationship with Tan. 


Nick takes a group out scouting. If civilization won’t come to them, he figures he’ll go to civilization. But Nick and the group stumble upon something that throws everything they thought out the window. And someone finally comes looking for the crash. But they’re not here to help. They set everything in motion to either save the world, or end it.


The first chunk of the novel starts of strong. Though I’m not crazy about plane crashes it is always good to read about people living through it and even making something of it. The mystery of what is happening after the crash really grips the reader. It’s like a Lovecraft story or Shirley Jackson novel where the true horrors (or the main events) are off stage leaving the reader to develop thousands of possible reasons for what is happening. However, no matter how fascinating the wizard, we eventually have to look behind the curtain. 


Riddle developed a multi-layered explanation as to what is happening with heaving helpings of greed, scientific advancement, and politically maneuvering. And though he did a good job laying all of this out, it still felt lacking. The technology wasn’t really anything new, it even had a few nods to the big three in Sci-fi. The story was well written and well paced. But what could have been was so much more fascinating than what actually happened. That’s not to say the story wasn’t satisfying, though it did make me think of the 1989 film Millennium. For those of you that remember that awful thing, the book wasn’t terrible like the film, it just has a few elements that make me think the author may have seen it, or was in a room once while it was on in the background.


The characters were an interesting choice as well. The characters start off rather bland with the hints of cliché nipping on the edges. But after the plane crashes we see a slightly different side that endears us to the protagonists. And when the antagonists are finally reveled in the third act, it truly was something no one would have expected. 


Departure is an intriguing book even if it doesn’t fully live up to the grand story the first half sets up. Grab a copy and take it with you on your next flight to stay…distracted.

Bite Somebody  by Sara Dobie Bauer

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Ever wondered what happened to chick lit?


It died.


And came back to life.


As a vampire.



Danny lied to Celia Merkin. He told her he’d make her perfect. (Spoiler alert.) He then bit her and turned her into a vampire. But the chubby Celia discovers that her insecurities don’t disappear when she becomes a vampire. She doesn’t instantly develop Cameron Diaz legs, or Electra’s fighting ability, or James Bond’s confidence.


In fact, she’s pretty much the same girl as before, except if the sun gets a look at her she’ll burst into flame, she can only feed off of blood, and she gets a dose of super strength--without any increase in endurance.


Celia’s chief insecurity involves men. She can hardly imagine that a man would be interested in her. The only men she’s ever known either ditched her in the morning, or turned her into the undead and then ditched her in the morning. Not much of a confidence builder. She’s seeing a vampire shrink for her problems.


“Danny said becoming a vampire would make me more special,” she complains to Doctor Savage.


Dr. Savage’s voice went all sing-song. “You are special. We’re all special.”


Two things happen. First, she meets an experienced, party-girl vampire named Imogen. Next, she meets her delicious-smelling, former surfer turned bicycle racer named Ian. Together they rock Celia’s world.


Despite, or perhaps because of being near perfect in every way, Ian seems to be falling for Celia’s down-home innocence. He calls her beautiful. He asks her out on dates. He gets into watching Pretty Woman on VHS tape with her.


Seeing the attraction (which Celia can’t believe is genuine), Imogen sets out to get Celia laid.


Err, I mean Imogen becomes a mentor figure to our hero.


It turns out that while vampires can’t eat food, they can enjoy alcoholic beverages, weed, and other mind-alternating substances of dubious origin. They frequent night clubs, and with their glamouring ability successfully feed off their more-than-willing victims. Celia has far too many scruples for glamouring anyone, but she does enjoy loosening up a bit with weed and alcohol.


Together, Imogen and Ian, with a little help from the shrink, begin to restore Celia’s confidence.


Of course, when things are getting too good to be true the vampire who first turned Celia turns up to throw a monkey wrench into everyone’s plans.


This book is absolutely hilarious. You will cheer Imogen on with her quest to empower her friend to experience her first-ever orgasm. The setting, somewhere just off the mythical Spring Break land on the Gulf of Mexico, is perfect for this light paranormal rom-com.

By having the hero reading Twilight to seek out information on vampire culture, Bite Somebody gives a nod to the most widely read of this genre, but I’d say that the book has more in common with Legally Blond or Shopaholic than Stephanie Meyers’ opus. It is definitely a 20-something book, deeply instilled with Cosmo-style values.


At times as I was reading I thought Bite Somebody might have something profound to say about life in general. Most of the time I didn’t really care. I went along for its hilarious—and touching--ride.


Abomination  by Gary Whitta

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

To paraphrase Clive Barker (back when his writing wasn’t the terrible mess it is now), monsters are more interesting when they come from within. Defeating the outside, the aliens, is tired and trite. But to battle the monsters within us, that is something interesting. That’s all well and good. Though we all do battle with our inner monsters, some monsters are too big to defeat and we just have to live with the horrors they do to those we love.


It is the dark ages and England is fending off a seemingly never-ending barrage of Vikings. Alfred the Great is young, weary, and growing desperate. By chance someone stumbled on ancient Latin scrolls so old they may be from the beginning of the Roman rule. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Aethelred, spends months deciphering the scrolls and finds a secret that may turn the battle to England’s favor. Aethelred wants to hold court with the king; Alfred only agrees because he thinks the man is a fool and he wants a reason to remove him. But when Aethelred releases the power of the scrolls and turns a pig into a horrible twisted monster, Alfred feels two things: revulsion and hope.


Alfred saw the power in the beast and how long it took his men to put it down and how many lives were lost fighting it. Creatures like this could turn the tide in his war with the Vikings. Aethelred admits he has little to no control over the monsters--but he is still learning. The king grants the archbishop time to work out the kinks in the incantations and make a suitable army of monsters. Alfred couldn’t see what was coming next. 


Months pass and Aethelred once again wants to show his progress to the king. If the first display was unnerving, this one was down right horrific. Aethelred has found a way to control the beasts. Instead of using animals he uses men. 


Alfred orders Aethelred imprisoned and the scrolls to be destroyed. Aethelred begs for more time to perfect his magic. He asks to be given time to learn how to turn the men back into humans. Alfred wants nothing more than to put these horrors behind him. The only thing he doesn’t think of is what Aethelred can do to the men who are supposed to guard him.


Now Aethelred is building an army of abominations and Alfred has to reach out to his friend and one of the best knights England as even seen, Sir Wulfric. Wulfric has given up the sword and now lives a life of peace with his wife. But a promise to Alfred brings him back to war, this time against monstrosities. Wulfric brings forth a campaign that quickly crushes the monsters but he suffers a defeat as well. Fifteen years pass and now a young woman, Indra, hunts down the final abomination. Only this last beast holds a secret that could end everything.


If the name Gary Whitta rings any bells it is because he wrote The Book Of Eli, After Earth, and was one of the writers behind The Walking Dead video games. Screenwriters are a little different than novelists. Their main job is to tell. They can’t really show because everyone working on the movie has to know what they are working with and it is the actors' and director's job to show. There is definitely some of that "telling" bleeding over into his fiction. While it doesn’t make the writing terrible it is a bit distracting as you go.


Another thing that Hollywood (and I assume screenwriters) is getting increasingly terrible about is origin stories/explaining how everything came to be. Not only do we have to know every aspect of certain characters, we also have to be beaten over the head with exposition. This was the only aspect of Whitta’s writing I really disliked. There was a tsunami of exposition every time a new character showed up. We even got a little backstory on some characters that were only in a scene or two in the background. Philip Marlowe is a literary icon, and still we only have a vague idea about his past and what made him the man he is. We could use more Philip Marlowe in the media we consume and less characters like Spiderman where we know almost everything about their lives.


The novel goes in one direction for the first hundred pages before abruptly changing direction and becoming a different type of story altogether. While at first I found this a bit jarring, I started to see the benefit in shaking things up a bit from the norm. Not to mention the originally story was running out of steam before the directional shift. The second part of the book switched from the chest thumping slaughter to an introspective search for meaning for both the protagonists. It also tied back together a few threads that were lain out at the beginning.


The book has something for everyone, though a bit much in parts. It wasn’t the most original story ever written but it was much better than 95 percent of the movies made now. Perhaps Mr. Whitta has found a calling where original ideas are still sought after and treasured. 

Unforgettable  by Eric James Stone

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

I have been following Eric James Stone since his collection of short stories Rejiggering  the Thingamajig appeared in 2011. And so I was very excited when I learned he was about to release his first novel, Unforgettable, from Baen Science Fiction.


As in much of Stone's work, the premise here is unique and thought-provoking. Nat Morgan is a CIA field agent with a special talent:  No one can remember him if he disappears from their perception for more than a minute. Even computers and other digital devices "forget" that Nat exists after a minute.


The story is a sort of near-future science fiction thriller. As in many such tales, two stories are developed in parallel:  the action story and the love story. Both of these plots come together in a thoroughly satisfying conclusion.


Rather than being some sort of magical gimmick—which would have been perfectly acceptable to me—Stone came up with a quantum explanation for Nat's unique talent. After explaining the talent, Stone then went a lot further, integrating quantum theory and the idea of "selecting" between alternate universes as the entire premise of the novel.


Essentially, the bad guy, one Kazem Jamshidi, with the unwilling help of a kidnapped scientist, develops a supercomputer that can consciously select between alternate universes. Since these parallel universes are essentially infinite, this computer can "choose" its own future--a future in which Kazen Jamshidi is ruler absolute.


The hero, Nat Morgan, is a quantum anomaly. Once Nat leaves the room, the universe somehow "selects" a reality in which Nat did not exist. He is forgotten. Nevertheless, the results of his actions remain, somehow "remembered" as events achieved through other means.


Confusing?


Stone is a master of explaining the unexplainable, not to mention the inexplicable. You will be as fascinated by the quantum mechanics of it all as you are with the story.


Due to his unique power, Nat may be the only person capable of stopping Jamshidi

However, think about this for a minute. If no one could remember you after you left the room, how would you ever develop relationships? Friends? Romance?


Nat's life is one of constant loneliness. Not that he dwells on it; he's rather a jovial chap. But it's there, beneath the surface. (I'm a little reminded of James Bond's pain, as played by Daniel Craig in his best moments, though Nat is no action hero.)


Until one day Nat becomes "entangled" (a quantum term) with a Russian spy who may or may not have gone freelance. Naturally, Nat falls in love. 


But can he trust her?


The conclusion has many twists and turns, the tension ratchets up, and every obstacle you think you saw coming gets doubled in the process. 


I can hardly recommend this book enough. If you have given any thought to reading a science fiction book, pick up Unforgettable. You won't regret it. 


Inherit the Stars  by Tony Peak

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

In the opening to Inherit the Stars, we learn that the Chosen One is destined to Save The Universe by retrieving a McGuffin.

Sound mundane?

Not so fast.

Author Tony Peak manages to take the standard setup and turn it into an enjoyable romp, delivering enough betrayals, revelations, and plot twists to keep all but the most jaded readers happy.

(Besides, just between you and me, avoiding the "Chosen One must retrieve McGuffin" setup in fantasy and sci-fi is rather like trying to avoid the murder in a mystery—it almost can't be done.)

Our heroine is Kivita Vondir, a space salvager. Her universe is a complex one, with various human factions fighting over dwindling resources in the inhabitable universe. The most influential of the factions is probably the religious cult known as the Inheritors. They believe themselves to be the inheritors of a legacy laid down by a departed race called the Vim. This departed race has left behind clues to their disappearance, and to the future of the human race, in artifacts which serve as datacores.

All of the races in the universe seem to be related to humans except the Sarrhdtuu. The Sarrhdtuu are some sort of hybrid humanoid—gelatinous, shape shifting thing-a-ma-jobbers that are so alien in mind and body that humans don't understand their motivations. The only thing known for sure is that their technology—and fighting prowess—is formidable.

Of course, Kivita is uniquely qualified to "read" these artifacts. Especially the most crucial of them all, the Juxj Star. Only she doesn't know it yet. But the Rector of the Inheritors, His Holiness Dunaar Thev, does. He intends to use Kivita to retrieve the Juxj Star and then dispose of her.


While the heroine is female, to me this read as a distinctly "male" book. While this may just be my own bias, the sexual tension (there is no on-page sex) felt distinctly masculine. An example, landing on planet after a long run, Kivita tries to buck herself up by telling herself: "Remember—there's jirr juice and sex out there." Nothing romantic or nuanced about it. Also, most problems get solved through action and violence—though the baddies are clever about laying their plots.


I've been a fan of Tony Peak for a while, having published his short story Meridian in June of 2011, and I'm happy he's broken out in long form with a major publisher.

Inherit the Stars reads like an old-fashioned pirate adventure in space. There are loads of shoot outs. True to the genre, the baddies can barely hit the broadside of an asteroid; the goodies can shoot the hair off a space mole. In one unforgettable scene, the heroine shoots the barrels off of five enemy rifles with a single shot.

This "pirate adventure" ambiance gets reinforced when we meet space pirates about halfway through the book, led by Shekelor Thal. Like all good pirates, Shekelor is motivated by greed.

Or is he? 

One nice thing about Inherit the Stars is that most of the characters—villains and heroes alike—have a mixed bag of motivations, some selfish, some selfless.

Kivita ends up with a romantic entanglement, also with mixed motivations.

The other thing I really enjoyed is that Peak is a master of dialog. All of his characters have distinct voices. He could have easily done away with the dialog tags and the conversations would still have been easy to follow.

There are sure to be more adventures on Kivita's universe. The book wraps up satisfactorily but there are a number of mysteries that have yet to be solved. All in all, Inherit the Stars is a nice read in the tradition of the Golden Age of Science Fiction, but doesn't measure up to the greats in the field. As this is Peak's first published novel, I'm sure he will continue to improve and impress.

Find more about Tony Peak at www.tonypeak.net.



Dreamers  by Donna Glee Williams

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Dreamers is a thoughtful tale in the tradition of the finest of Ray Bradbury, bringing to mind “The April Witch” and Dandelion Wine. Essentially a love story between two people trapped between desire and duty, anyone who has relinquished freedom for responsibility will feel a deep affinity for the protagonists. 


The Dreamer is a sixteen-year-old village girl whose dreams are interpreted for the well-being of the town. Every morning the Scribe meticulously transcribes her dreams for interpretation. The Dreamer’s duty forces upon her monotony and solitude, a life shepherded by the Scribe, the Chief Interpreter, and the village Council. Love, or at least relationships, are forbidden. She has given up her own life:  she belongs to the town now. But even though her needs are provided for, she longs to be free, to live a normal life. The cost of being a Dreamer is not just freedom—Dreamers burn out after only a few short years. Little by little they stop being able to sleep and to dream. Once harvested, empty, they are killed and replaced. 


The Water-Bearer Orik is a nobleman who flees to the Dreamer’s small town to escape both responsibility and court intrigue. He is content to earn meager wages carrying water for the village folk, but the Dreamer catches his eye, and he begins a subtle courtship. Meanwhile, Orik’s brother’s men catch up with him, putting the Water-Bearer, and potentially the village, in danger.


The Scribe also sacrifices much of his life for the good of the town, and he grows fond of the Dreamer. Overly fond, in the eyes of the Chief Interpreter, given the girl’s life-expectancy.


Dreamers is part romance and part fantasy. It has many kind and sympathetic characters such as we meet in our own lives. These characters have their own needs, desires and flaws, and each helps the Dreamer grow in a unique way. However, not all of the characters here are benevolent. Unlike Williams’ The Braided Path, Dreamers does have villains. The Chief Interpreter interprets the dreams the way he sees fit and profits accordingly. If anything threatens his enterprise, including dreams he can’t twist to his own profit, he takes action. The Water-Bearer’s brother is evil, or at least surrounded by unscrupulous advisers, and believes beyond reason that the Water-Bearer has aims on the throne. 


We get a glimpse at the all-important dreams, of course, and they are interestingly conceived and executed. I quite enjoyed these trips of the imagination. Perhaps ‘marveled’ isn’t too strong a word, since I have tried writing dream sequences a time or two, and it’s not an easy thing. But Williams makes the dreams both believable and meaningful.


Donna Glee Williams is making a name for herself with quiet, meaningful fantasy without the hacking swords and drooling monsters we’ve become accustomed to. If I can take issue with anything I would say that at times the symbolism is too obvious when subtlety would have worked better. Dreamers also builds more slowly than some readers will have patience for. It is a book to enjoy luxuriating in a hot tub with a fine glass of wine perched on the edge. But beware, you may become so entranced you forget the wine.


Visit Donna Glee Williams here.

 Waiting for the Machines to Fall Asleep  Edited by Peter Öberg

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Contributors: Hans Olsson, Boel Bermann, Erik Odeldahl, Ingrid Remvall, Love Kölle, Lupina Ojala, Christina Mordlander, Pia Lindestrand, Jonas Larsson, Tora Greve, Andrew Coulthard, Johannes Pinter, Andrea Grave-Müller, AR Yngve, My Bergström, Anders Blixt, maria Haskins, Patrik Centerwall, Björn Engström, KG Johansson, Oskar Källner, Sara Koplijar, Eva Holmquist, Markus Sköld, and Anna Jakobsson Lund


Of all the data ever collected throughout human history, a majority of it was generated in the last two years. Technology is advancing in leaps and bounds and at times it is hard to keep up with it. Not just because I’m getting on in years, even the young folks are having a hard time wrapping their minds around what all is out there and what it is capable of. Automation and robotics are changing every aspect of the world we live in from automated factories to smart homes and cars to research in the medical field. But what happens when all of this technology decides we aren’t worth bothering with, or worse, we are in the way of its advancement.


Waiting For The Machines To Fall Asleep is a collection of 26 stories from Sweden. The Swedes take a slightly different look on things than we’re used to: Mankind has found a way to travel to a far off dimension only to find it populated by enormous, soulless killing machines. A city has found a way to kill off all of its rats in one fell swoop, only the inventor of the technology helps the rats turn the tables on the humans. A man is sent into a city of twisted dreams that is forever changing to find something that may hold the key to his own past. Humans create perfect androids, but are some things perfectly human without feelings? Perhaps it can overcome this imperfection by stealing human emotions. A mother commits the ultimate betrayal in order to save her dying son. The greatest scientific minds of the centuries come together but are soon torn apart by what appears to be magic. The machines have taken over and mankind decides it can put them all to sleep at once, but who is left that you can trust when all machines look just like men.


I have to admit, I haven’t read many books by Swedish authors. (I read one of the Stieg Larsson books when they were so popular years ago but didn’t care for it.) Living in the United States some people get the idea that the rest of the world is dramatically different, though I find most Western cultures are somewhat similar. Eastern culture is a different can of worms. With that being said, the stories presented here did have a “fresh” feel to them. There wasn’t really anything that had never been done before, just a slightly different take on familiar tropes that was compelling and refreshing.


While the first story was probably the weakest (and an odd choice for an opening) several of the stories really stick to your ribs…and then gnaw at them while you try to sleep. "Getting To The End" is a story that speaks to creative people, as to what happens to your creations when you take a break. Do their lives get put on hold, frozen, and waiting for their creator? Or do they get mixed in with every other idea in your head, lost and looking for answers? "The Order Of Things" told the touching story of a parent’s love for her child. Not only was she willing to give up her freedom, but the very things she spent her life fighting against in order to save her son. "The Publisher’s Reader" tells a tale where all creativity is measured against preordained rules, much the way Hollywood films and most YA books are starting to feel. In an ocean of copies and repeats a few drops of originality can still be found.


Along with the really strong stories there were a few that had a Twilight Zone feel to them. Not jumping off of the page satisfying but enough to make the reader give a hearty grunt and half smile when they finish. And a handful were largely forgettable. Not bad, they just didn’t resonate. 


If you want to see a slightly dark look at some real talent out of Sweden, pick up a copy. The stories have been perfectly translated. You may even find the a Sci-Fi version of Stieg Larsson in the mix. 


 Spirit of the Ronin Part Three of the Ronin Trilogy by Travis Heermann

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

In the opening of Spirit of the Ronin the ronin Ken'ishi gets what he has always desired—service to a great lord. (Ronin were master-less samurai.) The lord in question is the honorable Lord Otomo no Tsunetomo, and his Captain Otomo no Tsunemori.


Of course, complications immediately ensue. Ken'ishi has long been in love with the beautiful Kazuko. But Kazuko is now the wife of Lord Tsunetomo. 


Ken'ishi and Kazuko must constantly fight between loyalty, duty, and love. 


In addition, Ken'ishi's arch nemesis Green Tiger is employed in the castle. The crime lord has kept his secret identity hidden from Lord Otomo no Tsunetomo. Green Tiger's ultimate goal is to aid the Mongols to conquer Japan, in order that his disgraced clan can rise again in the aftermath.


Always perceptive, Green Tiger learns of Ken'ishi's love for Lady Tsunetomo, and seeks to exploit this.


Don't worry. The Japanese names are easily recognizable even if you don't know exactly how to pronounce them. 


If you watch Japanese movies or read Japanese literature, three of the most powerful forces in their culture are loyalty, duty and love. The way Heermann pits these forces against one another in the minds of the protagonists is masterful.


I have been a fan of Travis Heermann's work for many years. I previously published his short story "Shadows of the Deep" in NewMyths.com and "The Girl with No Name" is forthcoming in Issue 32. Spirit of the Ronin is Heermann in top form. He lived for several years in Japan as part of his research for this project, and the authenticity and love he has for the samurai culture breathes on every page. 


In Heerman's Japan, the spirits and gods interact with the world on a daily basis, making for a "magic system" rarely seen in literature. If you want to read something with a Japanese flavor both accessible and unique, Spirit of the Ronin is as good as you will find.


Green Tiger is very much like Iago of Shakespeare's play Othello, poisoning the minds of those around him with his clever words. While Green Tiger's stated reason for his conniving is to raise his clan to glory once more, in reality he simply can't stand what is good and wholesome in the world. 


Just as Iago poisons Othello's mind so completely that he murders his wife, Green Tiger manages to poison the mind of Hatsumi, handmaiden for Captain Tsunemori's wife, to the point that she—


Well, I'm not going to spoil it for you. But Hatsumi's fall and ultimate destruction become one of the most compelling and exciting adventures in the book. 


And this poisoning of the mind is the greatest danger facing our hero Ken'ishi as well. For Ken'ishi wields a very powerful sword, Silver Crane, and the sword thirsts for battle and blood. Ken'ishi sees, endures, and yes, creates, enough suffering and bloodshed that through the power of the sword his mind too begins to transform.


It all flows to an exciting and memorable conclusion.


The Ronin trilogy covers what are arguably the most important years in Japanese history, from 1274 through 1281. In this period the Mongols twice invaded the islands. Twice they were repulsed through feats of arms and good fortune, typhoons destroying a large portion of their fleet on both occasions.


Several years ago I read part one of the Ronin Trilogy with great enthusiasm. Somehow I missed the second installment. While this final installment refers often to events of the past, it does so in a clear enough fashion that I had no difficulty following it. Still, if you have the chance it would be much better to start with part one and follow the story chronologically.


As the book nears its end, the Mongols attack from the sea with overwhelming force. Heermann brings his story and the Mongol invasion together in an exciting and satisfying conclusion.


The novel is beautifully illustrated inside and out. My only regret was that the story ended.

 Writer's of the Future Volume 31 Edited by David Farland

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Contributors: Orson Scott Card, Kevin J. Anderson, Larry Niven, Rebecca Moesta, David Farland, L. Ron Hubbard, Bob Eggleto, Kary Englis, Michael T. Banker, Amy H. Hughes, Daniel J. Davis, Zach Chapman, Krystal Claxton, Steve Pantazis, Sharon Joss, Scott R. Parkin, Martin Shoemaker, Auston Habershaw, T.R. Napper, and Samantha Murray 


Artists: Tung Chi Lee, Michelle Lockamy, Emily Siu, Shuangjian Liu, Taylor Payton, Amit Dutta, Alex Brock, Quinlan Septer, Choong Nyung Yoon, Megen Nelson, Megan Kelchner, and Daniel Tyka


Humans have a strange custom of getting together, generally once a year, and having a big ceremony to label which one of us is the best. These get-togethers usually bring the best and the brightest (or so they like to think) of any given field in one place where they pat each other on the back and then hand out awards for how great they are. This is fine and all, but it is usually a select few that win over and over again. What about the people who are just starting out? They too should be entitled to be commended for the good work they do. That is exactly what L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers Of The Future is about. It is a yearly anthology of the best science fiction and fantasy from authors and illustrators most people have yet to discover.


This year’s anthology was filled with wonderful tales that stretched the imagination and left disbelief wonderfully suspended. In the future, cops need to be more than observant and meticulous--they need to be augmented to catch the really good criminals, even if it means becoming one. When dogs are no longer man’s best friend, gods fill in for the perfect (or not so perfect) pet. Man has ventured to the stars only to find that nothing is there, but a strange new species may shed light on what happened to the rest of the life in the universe. The world has been destroyed and nothing remains except a ghost that may lead to salvation. A group of children and one adult find themselves in a home for people that have magical abilities but no means to control them.


The above is just a sampling of the stories in the collection by lesser known authors. The stories run from cyberpunk to urban fantasy to hard sci-fi. For the most part they are really well done. A few stick with you. It did seem like the better stories were near the front. Sometimes anthologies are laid out with the stronger stories near the front to hook the reader. While there were no bad stories here the later ones didn’t seem to move me as much. On the other hand it could just be fatigue from reading so many different stories back to back.


The anthology also featured short stories from some of the heavyweights of science fiction and fantasy. The late L. Ron Hubbard had a story featuring the future fall of Earth. Kevin J. Anderson and Rebecca Moesta explored a fear all creative people have though most won’t talk about it, a fear of success. Larry Niven looked at what people would do if they knew it was their last night on Earth before total annihilation (this story has been around for a while and made one of my favorite The Outer Limits episodes, the new show not the original). Along with these tales were a handful of essays from L. Ron Hubbard, Orson Scott Card, and Bob Eggleton.


Writer’s Of The Future also features Artists Of The Future. The artists that are chosen have to illustrate each story that has been selected for publication. An illustration accompanies each story and there are full color versions in the back. Again there is a nice mix. Some of the art reminds me of Phil Hale’s work, some looks like it was done by a young Brom, and there is one illustration that looks very similar to something Gabriel Rodriguez might produce. Again there are a few that didn’t really do anything for me and the quality of the illustrations and stories didn’t always match up either. 


If you are a new author or artist and are looking for a way to make a big break, pick up a copy and enter the contest. Not only is it a well paying market there is some recognition that comes along with being published here. And the essays within give great advice to writers and artists alike. Or if you are just a fan, then the cover price of Volume 31 is money well spent. Take your time and slowly digest each one.

 Killing Pretty by Richard Kadrey

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Humans tend to like order and repetition. People will lament to one another about breaking out and doing something different, but few do. Some do attempt to be or do something truly original, however they mostly regret it. The thought of absolutes (death and taxes come to mind) can be frightening. But something that is truly scary is the unknown. When absolutes, such as death, are no longer absolute all of a sudden all bets are off. 


Our favorite anti-hero, James Stark (also known as Sandman Slim) is living the not-so-easy life of watching his video rental business fail and trying to get used to his girlfriend’s new face. Stark decides maybe its time to get a real detective job: filing taxes, getting a 401K, and laying off the day drinking. He has to admit to himself that since most of his supernatural powers are gone (a trade he made in order to save the universe), a real job might be all that is left. But as Stark settles in to the 9-5 the first case he receives is a homicide. The odd thing about this particular homicide is that someone killed Death and now Death wants to know who killed him.


The angel of death was stuck in a human body and ritually killed. Stark needs to know why, and more importantly, who killed him. The dead aren't piling up but thousands are going into long stretching comas. Stark finds conspiracy upon conspiracy. Suspects run the gamut from vampires to neo-Nazis to necromancers. Taking out Death doesn't give any of them an advantage, as everyone will go on living forever. But if they were able to make a new Death, one that they could control, they would have the power of life over death. Whoever controls Death could control almost anything. And most importantly, whoever controls Death would be able to finally kill that pesky Sandman Slim. 


Kadrey starts the book off on the right foot: a bizarre mystery, several different paths it could go down, not letting the reader guess what the outcome is going to be, and enough exposition that a new reader doesn’t get too lost. The exposition isn’t seamless however. While some is snuck past the reader without them being any the wiser, the rest jars the reader out of the story some. However, at seven books it is a bit hard to jump into the action without catching up a little. 


This wasn't my first rodeo with Kadrey so I'm pretty familiar with his writing. At times he goes for a Raymond Chandler-esque style littered with profanity and dark humor. There is a lot of "I'm kicking you the real deal" tone in his writing but quite a few times he is able to produce beautiful turns of phrase. And Kadrey is able to paint a vivid picture of the supernatural underbelly of Hollywood that his characters populate, even if the characters themselves aren’t likable—interesting, not likable.


The plot immediately made me think of the Family Guy episode (Season 2, Episode 6, “Death Is a Bitch”) where Death breaks his ankle and can’t collect souls so everyone can survive. I can't be sure Kadrey is even aware of this but the odd comparison kept creeping into my mind as I read deeper into the book. Kadrey does have a twisted sense of humor but the cartoon was meant to be over-the-top ridiculous while Killing Pretty had a more serious flavor to it. That odd comparison aside, the idea of being able to ask Death questions about how he views existence and what he has seen gives the reader something to linger about long after they no longer want to think about it.


Aside from the main story arc there were a few other interesting bits such as the ghost fight club to the death (?). However the novel did tend to lean toward Stark and how he was coping both with losing some of his powers and the fact that his girlfriend, previously Candy now named Chihiro as she faked her death to escape going to prison, now looks different. The tough guy we’re accustomed to almost seemed like he was whining some here. As I said earlier there were a few jarring moments of exposition in the novel. Kadrey even used the "as you know, Bob" dialogue so often over-used in movies. And Stark focuses too much on events of previous novels. Kadrey may have been trying to humanize Stark and make him more relatable. It worked; it just felt a little heavy handed.


Fans of the series will have another adventure to explore, and share some introspection with Stark. If you haven’t read one of the Sandman Slim books you don’t need to in order to enjoy this book. But do yourself a favor and pick one up. Kadrey is a talented storyteller with intriguing characters and ideas. The books are fun: think not as witty as the Bobby Dollar series but more high-brow than the Deacon Chalk Bounty Hunter series.


 Ourselves by S.G. Redling

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Vampires tend top pop up every other decade and become the bee’s knees to one demographic or another. The most recent resurgence was aimed at lonely teenage (and unfortunately some older) girls, with the Twilight Series. This felt more like calculated, targeted marketing than crafty storytelling. It pulled the same tired stories and clichés and poured them into the minds of girls wanting to find the perfect undead man. If you want to pull out a cliché and try to make something out of it you better have some good writing chops (think Salem's Lot by Stephen King or, a little more obscure but the wonderfully written short story by Robert Bloch, "The Scent Of Vinegar"). Or dig a little deeper into the mythology, and find something that may have been there all along.


The Nahan have always been with us. They walk amongst us and hide in plain sight. They feed off of humanity without killing too often. This backstory is woven in and around two young socially awkward Nahan. Stell is part of the “true family,” a religious sect of the Nahan that has an Amish feel. They see their own existence and customs as an abomination and strive to purify themselves of their most basic urges. Stell grows up uneducated, alone, and trapped in a life she doesn’t want but can’t get away from. One day while she is skinny dipping on a mountain, she meets Tomas. Tomas is a bit slow but his cousin and best friend, Louis, thinks he'll come around. The two meet and immediate join one another in a passionate romp.


Tomas truly falls for Stell and introduces her to his family and friends. Though they try to be nice to Stell, they know that her being one of the true family will prevent the two from ever getting along. Tomas's family thinks that once he has his Avalentue, a rite of passage that involves traveling, he will forget about Stell. Conversely Stell's mother attempts to get her away from Tomas by taking her on the True family's version of Avalentue. While they travel they find their true calling and then go to find one another. 


The beginning is a bit slow and drawn out. That's not always a bad thing but here it felt as through Redling (the author) needed to get to the point sooner. She was also playing with the fact that the Nahan are some kind of vampires, without stating it. There was one too many hints dropped and then dragged along long after we knew what they were.


Tomas decides he wants to be a storyteller against everyone's wishes. Storytellers keep the Nahan safe by creating new lives for them as they age at a much slower rate than humans. Stell decides to stay with Tomas though she is battling her ever-growing bloodlust. Tomas begins his rigorous training but starts to see something moving behind the scenes, something that is anything but benevolent. Stell also begins to learn things about the storytellers that make her not only fear for Tomas’ live, but the lives of all Nahan. 


Ourselves has a bit of an odd layout for a novel. The first portion is character development with no real direction. The plot didn't advanced much, the reader is just spinning his wheels while being overwhelmed with exposition. The socially awkward hero archetype is almost as overdone now as the mysterious, handsome stranger or the pain girl that comes out of her shell and is all of a sudden beautiful. The second niggling fact that bothered me was that there was no clearly defined antagonist until near the end of the book. Again, all books don’t need an antagonist (however most speculative books have one), but the characters’ struggles weren't even brought to light until the second half of the novel.


Vampires in general I find tiring. There are only a handful of writers that I feel handle them well. But turning the mythology on its head, or its side in this case, does breathe a little bit of life into the mythos. Redling skipped over the usual stake through the heart, creeping around at night, and super attractiveness that has been slipped into mainstream vampire media. This makes the Nahan a bit more original (though not as original as say the vampire from Peter Watts excellent novel, Echopraxia), however not that much more interesting. 


The most interesting aspect of the novel was the storytellers and their motivations; however, we didn’t get as close a look as we would have liked.


Overall the novel isn’t bad. There is a bit of tag playing with the readers as to what the Nahan are and a bit of an odd story structure, but Redling is a decent writer. She also at least tried to take something that has become cliché, vampires, and twist and push them in a new direction. 


The publisher may struggle to find the right market for Ourselves as there is too much violence for the casual reader and not enough for veteran horror readers. But for less than five dollars for the Kindle version Ourselves is well worth checking out. 

The Gospel of Loki by Joanne Harris

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

There has always been a special place in my heart for Norse mythology. Maybe it stems from learning basic mythologies when I was around ten (they taught things like that years ago). We covered mostly the Greek/Roman stuff, barely touching the Norse. Or maybe my fascination comes from how Norse mythology has permeated every aspect of pop culture, but it doesn’t feel quite right. And while Loki is gaining more and more admirers mainly based off of Tom Hiddleston’s portrayal in the silly, bloated Marvel movies, he is almost always portrayed as the bad guy. 


In The Gospel of Loki we are given mythology from a self-aware perspective; its participants know it is the reigning belief pasted over the previous and preparing for its ultimate replacement by something different. We see the Norse myths through the eyes of Loki, the Trickster, as he watches the Norse Pantheon be built from the ground up, or from Ymir’s dead body up. 


Loki lives in the fires of chaos and watches as Odin and his brothers make the nine worlds. 


By choosing Loki as the protagonist, Harris chose an interesting viewpoint. She gives us the first person perspective of a being that is generally viewed in a pejorative manner. We get the Trickster's insights on everything that is happening, a unique take on Norse creation.


Odin builds alliances and makes a home for the gods and the humans to live in. Loki watches the old man (Odin) on his never-ending quest to gain knowledge and remain in power. But Loki sees something else in the other gods. He doesn’t see them as powerful beings to worship or be feared. He sees them as vain, stupid, careless, and greedy beings. Beings that don’t deserve the opportunities Odin gives them. Beings that should be tricked and made to look foolish in the eyes of eternity. 


Odin offers Loki a chance to join him in Asgard. Many promises are made but both sides know that they won’t be kept. 


Loki comes to his new home to a less than warm welcome. None of the other gods trust him, nor should they. His nature is to be a trickster. But they find that his deceiving nature can be useful. Loki uses his trickery to help Asgard gain better defenses. It awards the gods with new treasures, including Thor's hammer. The only issue is that Loki usually has to pit his life in the bargain. Each time the adventure nearly fails and only Loki's quick thinking pulls him out of the fire. 


Each times that gods are happy with the ultimate result but couldn't care less about what happens to Loki.


As ages go by Loki begins to resent how the others treat him. He starts by taking petty revenges such as cutting off Sif's hair to the more extreme orchestration of Balder's death. Odin breaks his word and imprisons Loki to be forever tormented. Loki breaks free to battle against the gods in Ragnarok but his fate is a bit different from those recorded in the mythologies.


Joanne Harris is no stranger to writing good books; she is the author of the award winning Chocolat that was later turned into an Oscar nominated film. She takes her skills and applies them here to a specific take on Norse mythology. While she strayed a bit from the source material here and there, she did a wonderful job of breathing new life into these old tales. Harris puts an interesting twist on the unreliable narrator by the narrator stating upfront that he is unreliable. Harris also did a wonderful job of not making the characters "good guys" or "bad guys." She presents them as very human with their concerns, personalities, and pettiness. The novel focuses less on the heroic and noble deeds of the Norse gods as is typical. And it completely stayed away from the utter rubbish that was spawned out of the Marvel comics (versus the DC/Vertigo comics which are rather good). 


This was a wonderfully written and entertaining novel. There didn't seem to be anything too inappropriate in it, so I recommend that the younger crowds pick it up and have a look. If you already know the stories, the novel follows the same general outcome with a few twists and turns along the way. While it wanders from the source material a bit, it can serve as a good starting point, or a pique of interest for those wanting to learn more about the Norse Pantheon. 


Pick it up and read it now.

Love, Time, Space, Magic Edited by Elizabeth Hirst

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Elizabeth Hirst has gathered a beautiful collection of stories in Love, Time, Space, Magic.

The overall theme is "love" of course. Love in various guises, always with an important speculative element. While all written by different authors, the "feel" of the stories reminded me of Spellcast by Barbara Ashford, a novel which combines love, magic, and musical theater.

Romantics, dreamers, and believers in magic—particularly the magic of love—will enjoy this collection of short stories.

 Below are my thoughts on the individual stories.


"I Sing the Recurring Melody" by Deborah Walker

In a fantasy world young Verna falls in love with the Dark Hand, a mysterious woman-traveler. A bewitching story of a musician trying to find her identity while shadowing the traveler.

 

"Leave the World to Darkness" by Fraser Sherman

Possibly my favorite story in the anthology, "Leave the World" is a sci-fi mystery story about Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla trying to save the world from "the Nazi master of shadows."

 

"Out of Their Minds" by Ira Nayman

A weird tale comprising funny vignettes. The humor will keep you reading. It does all come together in the end. Sort of.

 

"The Dying Place" by Melinda Selmys

I saw this as an absolutely unique take on the grim reaper, though the author might not agree.

 

"Melanie in the Underworld" by Victoria Feistner

This is my other favorite story. It absolutely has the feel of Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman, and anything that reads like Neil Gaiman is good in my book. This retelling of the Greek myth of Orpheus's attempt to save his wife from Hades will grab you by the eyeballs and not let go until the last line.

 

"Faster than the Speed of Slight" by Clint Spivey

A tale of love between a man and an android. Full of surprises and good characterization, this story is surprisingly poignant.

 

"Seven Days by Stephen B. Pearl

Will is willing to do almost anything for the woman that he loves, including summoning a god-like being to pleasure her for seven days. Just to kind of buck up her moral.

Would you?

 

"Her Vampire Lover" by Tim McDaniel

A flash story to make you smile.

 

"All the Herbs in Her Garden" by Kathryn Yelinek

A gardener helps a magician find love again. Along the way, expect beauty and dread.

 

"The Softest Sell of Image" by Russ Bickerstaff

This story left me confused. A man falls in love with a girl. Or is it a TV commercial?

 

"Modern Love" by Gustavo Bondori

As someone who not only dated through eHarmony, but found his wife through eHarmony, I found this story particularly appealing. In a very clever way it deals with the pluses and pitfalls of the electronic age with regards to dating. Fun characters, nice dilemmas. Great stuff.

Rigteous Fury by Markus Heritz

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

History is written by the victors, or so the saying goes. We don't ever get to see the other side's tale. The nations that were conquered and vanished we see through the eyes of those who fought against them and won. Often times the losers are vilified. 


We all see ourselves as the hero in our own lives…almost all of us. 


Some people are truly evil--and they relish in it.

 

Sinthoras and Caphalor are two warriors of the älfar, or dark elves. Both are talented artists, warriors, and are extremely cruel. A chance meeting makes the two immediately dislike each other. 


The reader gets a look into the älfs' lives and see that they are almost complete opposites: Sinthoras is ambitious, egotistical, and reckless where as Caphalor is reserved, methodical, and humble. But the two are about to be forced to work together. 


Heitz draws us into the world of the älfar but it is very hard to get to like either of his heroes. Both are unusually cruel for viewpoint characters and it takes a few chapters to get used to the älfar's strange view of the world.

 

The Inextinguishables, brother and sister älfar that have ruled the race for centuries, summon both warriors to their chamber where they pair the two up on a mission. Sinthoras and Caphalor are to travel together to find a mist demon. The demon alone has the power to break the magic of the Stone Gateway and open up the world of Tark Draan. 


The Inextinguishables have wanted to take control of the land for some time but could not get past the Stone Gateway. Pairing up the two opposites could give the siblings access what they want.

 

Sinthoras and Caphalor immediate clash and run into problems as they advance to their goal. Both älfar want to be the one to make the deal and receive the glory, though Sinthoras yearns more for this. The two bicker and run into a series of trials they have to undertake on their way. The biggest source of conflict is Sinthoras's runaway slave, Raleeha. Sinthoras blinded her in the opening scene for a trivial matter but her infatuation with him drove her to follow him on his quest. In a fit of rage, Sinthoras gives her to Caphalor.

 

Through much trial and tribulation, the two return triumphant. But regret and betrayal pushed the two together in friendship and then to battle against the Tark Draan. The älfar amass a mighty army to break through the Stone Gateway. Sinthoras and Caphalor push through to battle the creatures on the other side. They call the creatures the groundlings, but others might know them better as the Dwarves.

 

This was an interesting book that is a prequel to the events in Heitz' Dwarves series. As stated, the author took the unusual choice of having the viewpoint characters evil. I'm not saying that they were bad guys to those that fought them. They were just evil. The älfar seem to relish in how horrible they treat other races and even each other. It takes a long time to get behind these characters for the reader. 


There is a trend these days to see things from the bad guys points of view (Breaking Bad, Sopranos, The Shield), but these stories develop some form of anti-hero. In Righteous Fury, these guys are just wrong.

 

The trials the two run through felt like a homage to Tolkien--and a bit like filler. Since it was hard to care about the main characters, you kind of root for them to get killed. I think Heitz was attempting to expand on the characters and humanize them a bit through these trials. It doesn’t work, but it does flesh out their world more. And it introduces us to some really interesting adversaries, must notably the Gålran Zhadar.

 

Just because the viewpoint characters weren't pleasant doesn't mean the book was bad. In fact, Heitz' writing pulls you in as he creates a realistic world. The viewpoint characters aren't much to cheer on, but the world building and its trials are fascinating. And seeing how the other races view the älfar and how they interact is worth reading the novel for.

 

The älfar history is laid out either through pages from the Epocrypha of the Creative Spirit (a history book within the world of the novel) or through conversation between the characters. There is just enough given to really make your imagination kick into high gear. Also the älfar's customs such as using bones and blood of a fallen foe or friend to make art is really interesting as well.

 

If you are a fan of The Dwarves series this is a must. If you're not you may want to start with the main story line first. And you have to be willing to overlook a fault, or twenty, with the main characters.

The Bloodline Feud by Charles Stross

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Some ideas are big, so big that they can't be told in one sitting. The author thinks--hopes--that he can tell everything in one big swallow, but the risk is that the audience will become lost in the sea of ideas. Then an outside influence comes along and tells the spinner of the tale that he should break it up into small bites. One such story is Charles Stross' The Merchant Princes Series, the first volume of which was published in 2004. With The Bloodline Fued, an omnibus of the first two novels, we have the chance to see the books as the author initially envisioned them.


Miriam is a tech journalist that has just found a story that can make her career. With the help of a researcher, Paulette, she gathers enough information to reveal how several big companies are involved in money laundering. Unfortunately, those companies own the magazine she works for and she finds Paulette and herself being escorted into the streets. While the book was put back into its original form it wasn't updated with the times, so there are quite a few dated references. Also we've seen an evolution of our media, especially here in the United States. Some of the media giants we have are being run with a particular bias, generally political. So while it isn't completely unheard of for a media company to try to shut up a journalist, it is a bit of a strain to believe they would be so harsh to someone that could potentially go elsewhere and topple them.


Miriam is depressed and stewing--and planning run the story and take vengeance on the company that treated her so roughly. She attempts to take solace in her adopted mother, instead gets a few harsh words that amount to "buck up" and a box of belongings that was found along with her birth mother. Miriam was found next to her murdered mother as an infant. Deciding to dig deeper into her mother’s murder, she finds a locket with the belongings and opens it. Inside is a strange symbol that transports her to another world. The locket transports her to a forest with people straight out of the Dark Ages; only the knight that tries to run her down has a machine gun.


Once she figures out how to return to her own world (looking at the locket again) she decides that this might be a much bigger story and a way to hide from the enforcers coming from the companies laundering money. Only something more sinister comes after her. She is kidnapped and taken to the other world only to find out that she is part of a royal family, a family that has built its fortune off of traveling between the worlds and trading. But in order to keep power they have to keep some of the more advanced technology, medicine, and knowledge to themselves. Our protagonist starts to grow used to the royal life, until she stumbles onto yet one more plot that could cost her life. Now she is running from dangers on both sides. She sees a way to bring up the people of the new world through introductions of technology, but what if there are more worlds with even more dangers.


The book gets off to quite a slow start, but not in a bad way. Stross slowly and laboriously lays down the exposition, building a world from the ground up. So much detail is given that the reader accepts the world completely. Though the novels won a series of awards, I have to wonder if the original novel released was nothing but exposition. Things don’t really start to pick up until about halfway through this omnibus. 


Stross also lays down a set of rules used by the family that prevent them from jumping around whenever they feel like it: only those of royal blood can travel, travel causes severe headaches and can kill someone who travels too much, and they have to be looking at a certain design that there are a limited amount of. This makes an interesting plot device that prevents people from jumping in, killing an enemy, and jumping back out. 


While all of the intrigue, murder plots, and internal fighting are interesting (though not anything different from other thriller/historical thriller type novels) what held my attention was the economics. It was like Stross wanted to write a book about economics, thought it was too boring, and wrapped it in a world-jumping, alternate history novel. It is fascinating to discover how one person with a set of ideas (copied patents in the novel) could really change the world in a short period of time. Sure it has happened before, Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, and in our lifetime, Steve Jobs. But this go-round we understand everything and watch as an entire civilization can be lifted up with an idea. 


If you’re a fan, use this opportunity to read it in its original form. If you’re new to the series it has plenty of ideas to hold your interest and gives you lots to think about long after you put it down. The rest of the series is also being re-released so you won’t have to wait long to see how it ends.

Blood Will Follow by Snorri Kristjansson

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Snorri Kristjansson came thundering onto the scene last year with Swords Of Good Men. Aside from having a name that is a mouthful, Kristjansson showed readers a world where Vikings were alive and well…until someone stuck a sword in them. The first book is a great read, if only for the city under siege parts. When a new author comes along and sets the bar high, sometimes even that same author can't reach the bar on the second go round. 


Our heroes, Ulfar Thormodsson and Audun Arngrimsson, have survived the battle of Stenvik. But survived may not be the correct word. Skuld has cursed them to walk the world forever and their wounds seemed to be gone. The two friends walk away from all the bloodshed suffering from post-traumatic shock. Without much discussion, they head their separate ways to find answers. Kristjansson doesn't bother recapping the last novel; he picks up the action shortly after the last book ended. Swords Of Good Men had an abrupt change right at the end that rocked the reader, and Kristjansson doesn’t want them to get their balance just yet.


King Olav has achieved his goal of taking Stenvik. He can use the stronghold to spread the word of the White Christ, or to spread the blood of those who don't wish to listen. But King Olav is restless. There is so many that still stand in his way with their old gods. Treachery runs rampant in the men that are now under him, most against their will. The plotting healer, Valgard, convinces Olav to head north where he can easily gain footholds. But Valgard is looking for something from his gods, something that will make him more powerful than any other mortal. We get a closer look at Olav in this book and are robbed of some of the mystery, and therefore intrigue, of the character.


Ulfar attempts to drink away his brush with death while Audun tries to work it away by taking all jobs that come his way. Ulfar eventually finds his way back to his home, where he has to explain why his friend, Geiri, died in Stenvik. Treachery abounds and more plots are revealed against Ulfar. That will have to wait as Ulfar once again rides into battle against King Olav's army. But first he has to find a friend that can help him.


Audun meets a wise old man, Fjölnir, with one good eye. The old man allows Audun to work for him for a while before soldiers come looking for able-bodied men. The old man protects Audun from the soldiers but tells him he must leave. He gives Audun a belt that he can use to fight off the berserker in him. Audun leaves and once again finds work for a widow named Helga. He works for her for some time before the two fall in love. But she has a jealous neighbor that turns Audun over to the soldiers looking for all able bodies. Audun agrees to leave with the soldiers to prevent violence at Helga’s farm. Once Audun is gone, the men who were involved with informing the soldiers of Audun’s presence are killed by mysterious magic, and Helga vanishes.  


The two friends have learned much about themselves, but now they have to find each other. King Olav's army is growing larger and stronger by the day. And Valgard may have found the secret to the old gods. Men and gods are rushing to battle one another. 


The book was well written. There were plenty of minor battles, and other slices of life that weren't slices of men. Unfortunately I kept waiting for something to happen. This felt like a "bridge" novel. In that, I mean there were lots of important events in the first novel and this one just kind of strolls along building up for something to happen in the next. If you are a diehard fan or if the first book really pulled you in (as was the case when I read it) this isn't a terrible idea. But for the average reader looking for a good fantasy book to get lost in, Blood Will Follow may not win them over. As I stated above, this book starts with no recap, which may leave new readers scratching their heads.


Sneaking in the Teutonic gods was pretty interesting. Introducing the reader to characters that were heavily hinted at being gods of the Teutonic Pantheon really catches the attention. And the general conniving nature of the gods, pulling strings behind the scenes and setting things in motion, works with this novel's format of setting up ideas before the next installment. 


In some ways Blood Will Follow is an improvement over Swords Of Good Men--we weren’t awash in bombastic speeches this time. But I felt there was no true climax, like the siege and eventual loss of Stenvik in the first. All in all, it is still a well-written book and will fall nicely in the memory once the trilogy is finished. Pick up a copy and read it…after you read the Swords Of Good Men.


The Write Stuff by Barry B. Longyear

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

I began reading The Write Stuff a few years back when it was only available as a word document which author Barry B. Longyear would email to you for a few dollars with the request not to copy and send it to a dozen of your closest friends. When it came out in trade paperback a couple of years later I bought that version--there’s just something about the feel of a glossy cover. During the ensuing years I worked on the first major homework assignment. I suppose I will continue working on it for the rest of my life. It’s called Finding Your Vibes.

Finding Your Vibes is a methodology for looking at all the stories that most affect you and analyzing why they affect you, really digging deep into your own psyche. So you notice that you like protagonist misfits, Why is that? What about misfit characters speaks to you? Longyear isn’t content with a glib answer, he wants you to dig into your psychology, your past, your history to discover Why really? You are to ask this question about all aspects of story:  character, dialog, conflict, theme, and so forth, in all the books which have resonated with you over the years. Once you have finished with that, you are to do the same with the movies, plays, musicals, art, short stories, poems, et cetera which have stuck with you for years. Once that homework assignment is finished, you can begin looking at those stories that don’t speak with you at all, and try to discover: Why not?

The Write Stuff is not for the faint of heart. I suspect that is why there are only two reviews of it on Amazon at the moment. Everyone who picks it up realizes it is brilliant, but most will stop with the subsequent realization that Longyear’s method demands work, a lot of it. No one who isn’t serious about becoming a lifelong writer will bother doing the homework.

As I mentioned, a couple of months ago I decided I had collected enough vibes to move on to other parts of The Write Stuff. The next section deals with Generating Ideas. I thought I already knew how to generate and organize ideas, and I do. However, it took me loads of trial and error to come up with a system similar to Longyear’s. I could have saved so much time had I begun with The Write Stuff!

Section three, What is a Story, is similar to Longyear’s explanation of story in Science Fiction Writers Workshop-I. That book is, in my opinion, the best introduction to writing fiction around, in any genre. It includes such things as character, point of view, conflict, buildup, resolution, and so forth.

I generally skip any explanation on Research I run across. I already know everything there is to know, right? I have a degree in journalism. I’ve written nonfiction books, articles, and fiction heavy with research. What is there to learn? Well, in what became a frequent refrain, I could have saved so much time if I had begun with The Write Stuff. After much trial and error on my own, I came up with a system similar to Longyear’s, but the inadequate research—and nonexistent methodology—of two “seat-of-the-pants” novels led to me ultimately binning them for flaws the size of Winnebagos. Two years of work in the trash because of sloppy research. With my next project I’m beginning with Longyear’s method of using four files: a timeline from the birthdate of the oldest person mentioned in the story, a map, a “notes” file, and the manuscript.

Let me repeat:  the Research section of The Write Stuff is the best explanation on how to do and organize research I have ever seen, bar none.

Finally, now that you have your Vibes, your research, and your methodology, The Write Stuff tackles Writing and Rewriting. In it are little gems such as Where to look for character flaws. That alone is worth the price of the book.

This is a very “interior-based” method. While most other works focus on what appeals to the audience (Story by Robert McKee is a classic), Longyear would have us look inside to what appeals to us. It is no secret that Longyear has gone through a lot of rehab, and the methodologies used in rehab, digging deep inside ourselves to discover Why? and Why, really? are evident here.

Anyone who is serious must do the homework, in one fashion or another. I suspect that Longyear’s methodology will save time in the long run, and I know it will improve the writing of anyone who undertakes it. I described Finding My Vibes to award-winning author Amy Sterling Casil (author of Female Science Fiction Writer), and she called the advice “Pure gold.” I couldn’t agree more.

Fearie Tales Edited by Stephen Jones, Illustrated by Alan Lee

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Contributors: Ramsey Campbell, Peter Crowther, Christopher Fowler, Neil Gaiman, Joanne Harris, Markus Heitz, Brian Hodge, Tanith Lee, John Ajvide Lindqvist, Brian Lumley, Garth Nix, Reggie Oliver, Robert Shearman, Angela Slatter, Michael Marshall Smith, and The Brothers Grimm

 



Fairy tales are all the rage these days in popular media. They are being reintroduced under the branding of "gritty retelling/reboots." The odd thing is, that these tales originally didn't need to be any more "gritty." They were dark already, some to a horrifying extent. Disney came along and turned some of them into kid friendly tales that were much lighter. Once the market was opened up, others jumped on the bandwagon to make the happier versions. But the darkness was always there, waiting to come out again. Stephen Jones has collected stories by some of the best modern fantasy writers who give their own dark twist on these familiar tales. Though the authors don't have to stray far from the source material.

 

Fearie Tales goes over the familiar tales as well as some of the more obscure ones. There are a couple of takes on Rumpelstiltskin: one where a grandmother can hear the creature coming for the child through a baby monitor and another that is a little more inventive dealing with captains of industry and their servant. There is a new take on Hansel and Gretel involving cannibalism and home cooking. Rapunzel may not have had golden hair but golden flowered vines that pulled you up to something horrible. The youth who went forth to learn what fear was is a young woman who kills some by accident and then later saves others by never knowing what it means to be afraid. There is a retelling of the Changeling that this time has a Lovecraftian twist to it.  Each story is broken up with an abbreviated version of a Brothers Grimm tale in between.

 

Overall it is a good collection. There are a few tales that make you think twice about stumbling around in the dark after reading them. The best of the bunch was probably John Ajvide Lindqvist's novella length story, "Come Unto Me." Though you go into it knowing it is a Rumpelstiltskin story Lindqvist draws up a rich tale of love and betrayal. The most ambitious story was "The Artemis Line," by Peter Crowther. Talk about putting a new spin on an old concept. The most original was Garth Nix's "Crossing The Line." Nix gives us a western, monster story mash-up. And one of my favorite speculative authors, Michael Marshall Smith, gave us a tale that was both thought provoking and humorous as he generally does with "Look inside." Ramsey Campbell and Tanith Lee both bring in good old fashion round-the-campfire type stories that will give the reader a chill.

 

Though there are quite a few good stories here a few that seemed to miss the mark. Markus Heitz is a highly celebrated author but his story "Fräulein Fearnot" seemed like a skeleton of a story, though it ran to around forty pages. It was almost too fast-paced with writing that was just stating this happened followed by that. At first I thought it was the translation, but it was his usual translator (Sheelagh Alabaster). I don't know if he wanted it to be bare bones and fast-paced to give readers a sense of urgency, but it didn't work well for me. Neil Gaiman's story, "Down to the Sunless Sea," was another one that was lacking. I know he has a rabid fan following that may attempt to stone me in the streets, however this little story (it is only about two pages long) just felt like it was more about the delivery than the story.

 

The collection is sprinkled with Alan Lee illustrations. Each illustration is equal measure grotesque and beautiful. A few times the artwork is more memorable than the stories they illustrate. The cover art is also beautifully haunting.

Bored of the Rings By Henry N. Beard & Douglas C. Kenney

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Published by Touchstone (October 30,2013), 192 pages



In an article for The Writer, Ray Bradbury once wrote: "We build tensions toward laughter, then give permission, and laughter comes," and "sicken me not unless you show me the way to the ship's rail."* I wonder what he would have thought at The Harvard Lampoon's poor attempt at a parody of The Lord of the Rings. Authors Henry N. Beard and Douglas C. Kenney build tension toward laughter but never give you a break before dumping more on your head. Though you pray and search, there is no ship's rail in sight.


We all know the story, or at least the basic outline of this parody. Our Boggie hero, Frito Bugger, must take the not so great ring and toss it in the Zazu Pits while the dark lord Sorhed sends his armies out to stop them. Frito is accompanied by a party of sociopaths : Spam Gangree, Goodgulf Grayteeth, and the twins Moxie and Pepsi. If you’re a fan of the books and/or movies the pun on the names will give you a bit of a chuckle but their silly actions quickly grow tiring. The jokes and zaniness of this parody are piled on top of each other to the point where you can't catch a breath in between them. 


Other characters include: Arrowroot of Arrowshirt, Legolam, and Gimlet. They mostly appear for slapstick that just doesn't work, though punsters may appreciate some of the puns. Unlike the source material, we are blessedly limited in the amount of characters that appear to quip bad one-liners and behave in a pointless manner. The various aspects of the quests, important to the original tale, are glossed over here with more bad puns. 


There are a few gems in this huge dung pile, most of which are in the footnotes. There were some really obscure references explained in a funny way. Or when it is "revealed" that this book only exists to make money. In fact, these were the only times I actually laughed while reading this book. Though this is an updated version, most of the 1960's references are left in. I suspect that modern generations won't get them. A few drops of highbrow humor in an ocean of lowbrow filth don’t make it worth reading, even if it is less than 200 pages.


I am aware that this is a parody and not meant to be taken seriously. But a modicum of seriousness between jokes could have gone a long way in making this at least tolerable. Instead we are treated with an Adam Sandler-type treatment where he just gets angry and shouts for the entire 90 minutes. It doesn't have to be high drama but at least give us something that is not an attempt at humor so we can get grounded for the next joke. 


At least the book was honest about only existing to make money. Avoid this like the plague and read the source material instead.


*"The Secret Mind," The Writer, November, 1965.

They Say the Sirens Left the Seas By James Hutchings

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

New Myths doesn’t normally review books of poetry but there’s an exception to everything. They Say the Sirens Left the Seas by James Hutchings is a fun, eclectic mix of 46 poems that is both fun and relevant to everything about modern life. “The Assignation,” one of the poems in the collection, was first published back in New Myths Issue 19, in 2012. It was inspired by one of my favorite authors, Lord Dunsany.


The poems within are mostly short, 8-30 lines or so, and for the most part adhere to a strict rhythm and meter. As someone who has read a lot of modern poetry, I can tell you this is rare. In my opinion, form should be chosen based on function. Some poems should definitely be in free verse, others in strict meter and rhythm, others somewhere in between. But what I see most often is poets putting everything in free form…and not bothering to even learn the classical forms. The loss belongs both to reader and writer. Imagine trying to write a rumba without first learning Latin rhythms. 


Hutchings doesn’t have this problem. The rhyming here may be a bit limerick-like for some, but it works in most cases. Hutchings is at his best when dipping into the comic vein. The endings of his poems are often “surprising but inevitable,” and cause a belly laugh or a knowing nod, maybe a sigh. 


Some of the poems deal with fantasy, and some with science fiction, others with modern life, growing old, and relationships. If there is a disappointment it’s that the title comes from a single, beautiful poem, but sirens and seas are not a theme throughout the pages. I’m fine with the eclectic mix; others won’t be.


They Say the Sirens Left the Seas may not be Pulitzer Prize winning poetry but it kept me reading from beginning to end. It’s the best 99 cents I have invested in some time.


I’ll leave you with this ditty, reproduced with the author’s permission:



Automation


There’s a phone that’s so smart it captures your heart

then it leaves you without any warning.

There’s a program that’s free and it’s got HIV

and it tiptoes away in the morning.

The’ve invented an app that can treat you like crap

with a voice that’s abrasive and grating

then you find in the end that it slept with your friend

so, in short, you don’t need to be dating.



Path of Needles By Alison Littlewood

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Path Of Needles

by Alison Littlewood

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong


As we mentioned in a previous review, fairy tales seem to be all the rage these days. The popular thing to do is a “gritty re-imaging” though many were quite dark to begin with. But a new twist would be seeing how people would react to the things carried out in fairy tales in present day. In the years of yore, people might have been okay with abandoning your children when they get too expensive or killing someone who was prettier than you, but nowadays that kind of thing is frowned on.

A girl is found murdered and dumped in the woods. The police chuck the murder up to a crime of passion but one newly trained officer, Cate Corbin, notices something odd about the positioning of the body. It is staged to look like Snow White: her hair dyed black, her lips were painted as red as blood, and even her skin has been bleached to a paler shade. At first her colleagues dismiss or laugh at Cate, until the next body shows up, this one in a red cape with a basket of food by her side. Littlewood wastes no time getting us into the mystery and introducing a cast of characters, with more than a few of them who could have blood on their hands. She tackles the more familiar fairy tales that would be easily recognizable to the reader before tossing in a few odder ones.

Cate finds a local professor, Alice Hyland, who is an expert in fairy tales. Though the victims don't fit with the most recent or popular version of the fairy tales, Alice is able to point out some older variants that the killer is using. Alice helps the police advance their case but she starts to add in dimensions the police never thought of. They begin to see her less as an aide in their investigations and more of a suspect. The characters are fleshed out well enough for the reader to see that the author isn't using literary misdirection to pull a suspect out of a hat.

Cate starts to see the error in her ways by bringing Alice in on the case but doesn't notice that she is beginning to obsess over the killings. Alice believes that she can find some sort of key that will unlock everything and stumbles onto something that goes back decades. All the wrong suspects are being rounded up as the killer begins working on the final fairy tale to end it all.

I read and reviewed Alison Littlewood's previous book, A Cold Season (Jo Fletcher, 2013), a while back and I really didn't care for it. It suffered from tons of problems. Path Of Needles is the opposite. Where Littlewood's previous novel suffered from over description and a slow, plodding pace, her new novel hums right along with every passage integral to the plot. A Cold Season was riddled with plot holes while Path Of Needles has everything tied up in a nice neat little package at the end. Sure there are a few rough spots here and there but it shows a dramatic improvement in ability from one novel to the next.

The fairy tale variants were fascinating; for some reason these old tales still resonate with many of us. Reading the book you could see and feel the research that went into it. The fairy tale angle also put a new twist on the police procedural part of the novel that is fairly well trodden (I don't think there is a tremendous difference in the various police procedurals out there but that is their attraction). The brutality of some of the original stories doesn't really touch us until we take them out of the fantasy worlds of magic and look at them in the cold hard light of reality.

The book is replete with plenty of unsavory characters that could possibly be our killer. While there were a lot of ways Littlewood could have went with this, the reveal of the killer doesn't really strike you as false or as a "got ya" moment. Everything fits and the back-story as to why is more interesting than the who. The implied magical elements are similar. Littlewood never comes out and states that these things are actually happening, instead letting the reader decide what is real and what isn't.

If you are a fan of police procedurals, have an interest in fairy tales, or just want to read a good thriller go ahead and pick this up. If you are looking for more supernatural elements you won't find them here. However, you will find a finely written novel about how we deal with fantasy as it is brought into reality.

Watt O'Hugh Underground By Steven S. Drachman

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Trilogies are a funny thing. An author either has an idea that is so big it can’t be contained in one book or they aren’t quite finished with an idea or character after one book. Some authors can just run with a character and crank out one good book after another, think Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files. Others come out with a strong opening and then fall flat on the second one. The second book, after releasing a great first book, is always the great test of writing ability.


We left Watt O’Hugh at two points in time at the end of the last of novel. In one instance he is at the end of his life writing his memoirs. In the other when he is younger, he has lost more than one person he thought was important to his life and now makes various plans of vengeance while attempting to drink himself to death. These are the same two points we pick up the second novel at. A young woman, Hester Smith, knocks down the younger, angry, drinking O'Hugh's door and asks him for help and in return she offers him vengeance. Drachman does a bit of catch-up here but not so much that a new reader will get bogged down in it.


Hester needs Watt to help her rob a train. Though she claims that they can get rich from the robbery it’s not money Hester is after. The train is full of people from Sidonia, whom O’Hugh would like to see every last one of die. And the people are all protecting a secret.


Hester isn’t the only one looking for the secret. The bad poet Yu Dai-Yung is now in America looking for something as well. What he lacks in ability to write poetry he more than makes up for in his gunslinger talents. Yu finds a guide in the last of Peking Indians. Together the two may have to travel through hell to find their answers.


Watt O’Hugh finds himself wealthy with a new love in his life and in a place where time stands still. He could stay there forever. But he is still driven to go into the belly of the beast and confront his sworn enemies. With Billy Golden’s help, Hugh sets off with a new face to Sidonia. There he will either find his vengeance or his death.


While Drachman’s first novel, The Ghosts Of Watt O’Hugh, was fantastic, I felt he stumbled a bit with this one. Splitting the narrative between O’Hugh and Yu felt like a mistake. While Yu’s story was interesting and quite funny at times, it felt like a distraction from the main story. Also we are being told this story from O’Hugh as an old man and readers have to wonder how he had such insight into Yu’s life along with his thoughts. At times the viewpoint shifts to other characters but there is generally an explanation given. 


Though it was a stumble, it in no way makes the novel bad. We are still treated to realistic, albeit very quirky, characters as they try to navigate through their problems. O’Hugh’s abilities aren’t as magical to the reader this go round because we were already introduced to them in the previous novel. However, how he uses them is interesting at times: such as going to the bottom of the ocean in Pangaea at the beginning of time to drown his pursuers. Or going to the mid-1980’s for a one-night stand, only he relives the moment time and again as his lover thinks it only happens once. 


Taking Yu Dai-Yung from a bumbling poet to a master gunslinger, felt an odd fit as well. He is an aristocratic poet that can fight and kill without blinking an eye. This probably would have killed the novel if we weren’t given such an interesting quest and such a bizarre sidekick in John Dead-man, the last of the Peking Indians. While the beautiful and sometimes surreal descriptions brought the novel back up to a higher level the abrupt ending left a bad taste in my mouth. I know that there is another part but I never liked the “if you want to know how the story ends buy the final installment,” –type ending. The novels are modeled after pulp novels (only the writing is much better) that would have an ending like this, but it leaves readers without a sense of closure. 


If you’re a fan of the first book this is a must. If you’re not a fan of the first book it means you haven’t read it yet and need to go pick up a copy. I’m looking forward to the third installment where we find out Watt O’Hugh’s triumph or failure over his enemies. 

The Sword of Michael By Marcus Wynne

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

All of us have something we are passionate about, be it a hobby, our jobs, or our kids. Sometimes the passion overwhelms us and we just want to share. But if our passions are a bit odd or off the beaten path we have to do quite a bit of explaining along with our sharing. When people lose interest in our passion we can't always stop ourselves from talking about it. We may end up talking to ourselves, or writing a book. Dispossession is the passion here, and author Marcus Wynne practices what he preaches.


Fictional hero of The Sword of Michael Marius Winter is a shaman-warrior. He spends his time fighting the forces of evil and throwing out demons that hitchhike into our world through others. Marius surrounds himself with spirit guides and powerful friends to aid him in his battle. Marius is doing his shaman/depossessionist thing when he draws the attention of a dark sorcerer, one he has fought often before in different lives. Wynne tosses the reader right into the action...only to yank them right back out with heavy explanation and digression. Unfortunately it isn't just a one-off. Wynne continually launches into long, explanatory diatribes as the novel progresses. 


Marius does a few routine depossessions and we learn just what that entails. He has a few run-ins with dark forces that depict what is normal for the character and introduce us to his friends: Dillon, the gunslinger warrior; Jolene, the love of his life and an avatar of the goddess or female spirit, and Sabrina, a biker that is also a shamanic healer. We also got to see the first use of the Sword Of Michael as it quickly dispatched a big baddy. But this engenders what I call the Pacific Rim question: If the sword is so powerful and has no real limitations, why not use it all the time to fight the evil doers?


A dark sorcerer kidnaps Sabrina and the team jumps into action to save her. Dillon and Marius run into a doorway to hell with guns blazing while Jolene stays behind and uses her powers to help. The men rescue their friend only to find out that it was a ruse so Jolene could be possessed and have her soul kidnapped. Now they have to go back to the same doorway and then descend into hell and fight seven demi-demons representing the seven deadly sins to save her. 


Some novels aren't plotted out before starting them. The author has an idea and runs with it to see where it goes. Stephen King does this often. He uses the metaphor of digging the stories pre-formed like sculptures out of the sand. When it works, the method can produce a fantastic read that keeps you guessing; when it doesn't it just feels like whatever idea came up got plopped down on the page. I'm not sure if this novel was plotted out first or not but it didn't feel like it. It seems to start off being about something entirely different before changing to the hero descending into the underworld to save the love of his life. There are two different types of kidnapping (and why the women? Why wasn't Dillon himself snatched?) and two travels to the same place in the underworld. There is no clear antagonist. It just seems like all evil guys are out to get our hero. The whole thing is peppered with digression and telling versus showing. And the hero likes to "borrow" one-liners from other forms of popular media, though he really seems like the type who would have tons of his own.


The novel isn't a total loss--far from it. Marcus Wynne is a practicing depossessionist and actually explains the process in a very interesting way (actually the whole novel could have been stronger if dispossession was the focus over guns and witty quips). The seven demi-demons that represent the seven deadly sins were great. The amount of detail and effort put into these scenes really changed how I felt about the book. Wynne takes a page out of the Raymond Chandler book of writing and has someone kick in a door and start shooting every time the plot slows down, so there is never a dull moment.


Traitor's Blade By Sebastien de Castell

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

All of us tend to see ourselves as the good guy. We like to think our decisions were made with the best of intentions even if others had to get hurt due to a result of said decision. In a world where it is your job to meter out justice and protect those that can't protect themselves, what happens when the entire world judges you a traitor? Continuing to do what is right becomes difficult when everyone around you has already labeled you the evil you were trying to eliminate.


The king has been killed and his army of magistrates, The Greatcoats, have been disbanded and spread throughout the land. At the king's command, they stood down while he was killed and the rest of the land sees them as traitors. The first cantor, Falcio Val Mond, and two of his most loyal Greatcoats are reduced to bodyguard duty. The bodyguard duty will hopefully help the Greatcoats start their long trek back to some semblance of greatness they once had. Unfortunately, the man they are guarding is murdered and they are framed, further soiling their names. We are given an interesting tale and back-story at the get go. The world, its rules and its history are set up smoothly and simply. Though it seems like a historic tale, around 16th or 17th century Europe, there are a few light touches a magic pushing it into the realm of fantasy.


The three fleeing Greatcoats decide to join a caravan to help them hide from the duke's men. Unbeknownst to them, the caravan holds a person that may be able to reunite the kingdom under a new royal blood. The three Greatcoats see both potential and danger in this, but before they can act Falcio pledges his protection to a young girl in Rijou, a city under siege. The city has a yearly ritual called Ganath Kalila, the blood week, similar to the back-story in the movie "The Purge." The girl is set to be killed and Falcio sees his redemption in keeping her alive even if it kills him. However, all those that attack him soon find out that killing Falcio is no simple matter.


Sebastien de Castell comes out swinging with a strong debut novel. It is part swashbuckling musketeer adventure, part city under siege, part treasure hunt, and part search for redemption. The dialogue between our heroes is quick and witty without overdoing it. The action is well described in most cases, in a few the author decided to skip over certain scenes to add impact. It did feel like we were cheated of the missing action though. The history of the land is interesting, or what tidbits we get along the way.


There are a few problems. There are quite a few flashbacks to various times prior to the main story. While this was the vehicle that delivered the history we get, it also interrupted the flow of the narrative. And when the author showed us various points in Falcio's life it gets a bit confusing as to how old he is and how long he has been a Greatcoat. There seems to be several key events that push him into the life. Also there are a few times where his fighting ability are hinted at but not shown. This was especially annoying when his victory over the best swordsman in the world is glossed over twice. This happens again near the end of the novel with another important duel.


The politics of the land add another level or realism but the deceit and deception involved get a bit convoluted as the story progresses. There just seems to be too many strands to the diabolical motivations and the whole thing seems like it would unravel if too many people started to pay attention. Sure, the people are oppressed, but that just gives them more motivation to overthrow those in power. 


There were also some great little nuggets sprinkled throughout. Though they weren't part of the main story, they added another level of immersion: the ninja-like assassins, the Dashini; the fairy tale of the Fey horse and the result of changing one; and the various saints that had names that were basically descriptions of what they could do. 


All in all, The Traitor's Blade is very entertaining and very well written for a first time novelist. It is the first of a series so hopefully we'll get a better look into de Castell's world and learn the ultimate fate of the Greatcoats.

The Labyrinth of Stars By Marjorie M. Liu

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

It’s in our nature to put labels onto things or put them in nice, neat little boxes. Though we may have millions of these little mental boxes there is generally a clear line of good and bad. Things we like and are helpful are good, while things that hurt us or we disagree with we deem bad. But the main difference here is that we see the good as part of us and the bad as somehow alien or out there. The theme of Labyrinth of Stars is that eventually, in order to be great, we’ll have to embrace all parts of ourselves and use them to our advantage.


Maxine and Grant are home and happy. Maxine is pregnant with a baby that is both half light-bringer and half demon hunter. Grant is still healing from his crushed kneecap and trying to deal with his mantle of demon lord. But bliss doesn’t last as monsters from another dimension come ripping into their little demon-farm in Texas. Liu does a quick, efficient job of laying out the setting, powers (and their limitations), and plot in the first couple of chapters. It is a recap so that if you haven’t read the previous books you know what is happening, but it’s fast enough if you are a fan of the series you don’t bet bogged down with details you already know.


Grant, Maxine, and her little demon helpers have no trouble dispatching the demons that come at them only their attackers do something different, poisoning Grant to render his power useless so they can capture him. Maxine saves him and cures him fast enough but all of this was just a ploy. The actual plan that is put into motion originates from one of the beings with unlimited power, the Aetar. The Aetar cannot allow Maxine’s child to be born as it would be too powerful even for them. This seems like it would be a constant problem from the moment they discover Maxine is pregnant. One would think that the Aetar would attack Maxine relentlessly until they either succeed or they would just do something drastic like blow up the Earth.


The Aetar have found a way to get rid of Maxine, Grant, their baby, and all of the demons on the planet in one fell swoop. The only problem is that it might kill off all the life on the planet along with it. Maxine has to make a deal with the devil to save her child and search through friends and enemies to see who is really behind the attack.


In my opinion, planetary destruction would have been easier. 


I think that genre writers that write in a different or new genre have their old ones bleed over. Stephen King has written a few mysteries that definitely have some horror elements in them. Jack Ketchum's western was way grosser than it needed to be. And Liu adds the over-description that one finds in romance novels (she also writes paranormal romance). There is an audience for this, but it falls more to romance readers as opposed to the sci-fi readers. All the over-description deals with Maxine having some sort of struggle, mental or otherwise, before overcoming it. 


The mythology of the series was interesting:  five super powerful demons have been imbued into one woman, making her invulnerable...until she has a daughter and passes the demon strength on. Though this story line is very similar to the story line in the comic book series, The Darkness (Image Comics, 1996-present). It also runs into the comic-book-invincible-hero problem. If your hero is super powerful or unkillable, you'll spend all your time trying to come up with ways that their powers are turned off or repressed so they can face real danger. This was something the Matrix sequels suffered from as well, not to mention a lot of Wolverine story lines. In Labyrinth of Stars author Liu explores some interesting worlds and creatures at times that didn't ring any specific bells.


The idea of seeing demons as individuals with feelings, thoughts, and dreams was a nice touch, having the demons as something inside of us instead of something outside, alien. But this again is very similar to an earlier idea, in this case the Clive Barker novella, Cabal (Collins, 1988). The difference here being that Maxine realizes that what she hunts and kills isn't some movie or video game bad guy who exists to do bad things and needs to be taken out, in Cabal, Boone was wrapped up in a plot to help the Night Breed.


Pre-used ideas (but not cliche) and over-description aside, Labyrinth of Stars provides an entertaining dark Urban Fantasy. Fans of the series are given a new satisfying installment, the fifth in the series, and new comers are granted a well-written dark thriller. Nothing new here, but some interesting takes on previous ideas.

Storm Siren By Mary Weber

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

There is a notion that the future generation will change the world for the better. They'll be able to see the mistakes of the current generation and make better choices. While I have faith in the younger generations and their power, especially their anger they feel as they realize the world isn't what they've come to believe, I think they can change the world now, while they are still young.


Nym has spent the majority or her seventeen years as a slave. She goes from one owner to the next leaving a path of destruction in her wake. Nym is an elemental, a being that can harness and use the elements to cause tremendous damage. Only Nym has no control over her powers, often killing others accidentally or through her rage. Nym is put on the auction block once more and is pushed harder than ever in front of a crowd. Her powers manifest for the world to see, but they lead to an advantage for the first time in her life as they knock her out.


Nym wakes up to find that she has been purchased by a proper lady who has put her up, in what appears to Nym, a palace. The Lady Adora, Nym's new owner, knows exactly what Nym is and she wants to harness Nym's powers to help fight a war that is raging through the three kingdoms. Nym is a very rare creature indeed, an elemental and the only female at that. Adora gives her the choice of joining with her or being executed. Not much of a choice. Nym meets the handsome Eogan, and the handsome Colin, two other teens with special powers (and a predictable dual attraction to her). Eogan begins to teach her how to control her powers the way he has taught Colin.


As Nym gradually begins to control her powers (realizing just how powerful she is), she quickly sees that she is going to be used as a weapon for killing. Nym tries to escape only to find that she and Colin are forced to use their powers to defend themselves. Nym sees that she can use her powers without killing and decides to come back and fight for the kingdom only to see betrayal all around her. She doesn't know who to trust, or who to turn to. But one thing is for certain, with her powers, there aren't many who can stop her.


There was an article in Slate magazine recently about adults being ashamed of reading YA fiction. Specifically for treating YA fiction the way one would treat literature. While I don't disagree with many of the points that were made in the article, I don't like the idea of shaming anyone for reading. The same thing was said about science fiction years ago and now quite a bit of it has made it to required reading lists in schools. 


Mary Weber's writing may not make it onto required reading lists anytime soon but there is no need to be ashamed of it. There are some bumps here and there and sometimes the writing comes off as clumsy as a teenager, but Weber knows her audience well. The novel contains the usual clichés that are in YA fiction aimed at girls: love triangles, looking at oneself in the mirror frequently, all the good guys are beautiful, and all the bad guys are ugly. I think these clichés being omnipresent in YA has more to do more with audience demands/expectations than any fault of the authors. Though Weber did sidestep these clichés a bit by having the protagonist have a slight deformity and having something that little girls tend to love, horses in this case, be bloodthirsty meat eaters.


The author shows a real talent for world building, giving us a well fleshed out world with realistic hierarchy and politics. There was also a limitation, or cost, to the magic used. Giving characters powers clearly defined rules always makes for a better read than having them do anything that the situation requires. The novel could have done without the pulp type ending. As an adult I found it annoying, but as a teenager I probably would have found it cool. 


If you’re a teenager, especially a girl, and are into dystopian/fantasy novels, Storm Siren is worth checking out. It is the first book in a trilogy so there are more adventures of Nym and her friends to come. Perhaps this will be the next Hunger Games or Divergent. If you're an adult who like reading YA, no need to be ashamed. You'll find a rich, fully developed world with well fleshed out characters populating it.


The Ghosts of Watt O'Hugh By Steven S. Drachman

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Tall tales tend to grow as time goes on. Tales of near misses with death become stories of almost superhuman luck and agility. With no witness to the past, tales can become legend. On the other hand, if we were to ask the legends themselves we may get an entirely different story. And this story may be much more bizarre than the tall tale we started with. 


Watt O’Hugh is a man well over a hundred years old and attempting to write his memoirs before he dies. He knows how much time he has, down to the day, and he doesn’t want to be forgotten by history. Watt can roam through time. Though he can’t change the future or the past, he can go in either direction any time he wishes. This is just one of his many talents. Drachman not only gives us a sense of urgency with the Herbert Selby Jr.-like writing before dying, but he immediately gives the protagonist and friendly, folksy manner of speech that is welcoming and disarming. 


Watt had a illustrious life: he was a hero of the draft riots, served in the union army, became a hero once again out west, and then was recruited by J.P. Morgan to be the central character of a wild west show in New York City. One evening during the show, Watt noticed some men that aren’t part of the act. He notices in part because he doesn’t recognize them and in part because they are shooting real bullets at him. With quick thinking and some help from his ghosts and his sidekick, Emelina, he thwarts the attackers. The audience (that doesn’t know it is not part of the show) loves it. After the show Watt and Emelina make an attempt to go to dinner, but their plains are interrupted when two government agents try to give Watt a job he doesn’t want to take. Watt’s refusal leaves him in a Wyoming prison with a bullet in his chest and two broken legs. It was at the prison where his real adventures began. 


Though he was sent to prison in order to infiltrate a group of men to avenge a burglary against J.P. Morgan he finds some unlikely friends. One is the first man Watt meets that can roam through time, Billy Golden. Billy is pure of heart and is able to change time. He wants to wage a war against the men of Sidonia and their magic. The other man is Mr. Tang, who is small, old, Chinese, and a woman. She has her own motives for enlisting Watt's help. Though everyone is wanting him to do something all Watt wants to do is find his true love, Lucy Billings, and save her.


This book has a lot going on. At times the reader feels like they are being pulled in multiple directions at once. Normally, I would say that this is distracting and ill advised for a writer. However, Drachman tells the story in this multilevel manner because that is how the character goes through his life. There are a few story arches opened up here but only one followed through. This is the first book of a trilogy but there is just a bit too much time spent on stories that will happen in later books. The book could have done a better job focusing on the Lucy Billings story. 


Watt O'Hugh is a richly developed character that, though he seems indestructible at times, he is full of basic human thoughts such as: doubt, selfishness, and reluctance. The way the character jumps back and forth using both speech from the 19th century and from present day, that he learned from roaming time, makes us relate and like him that much more. All the other quirky characters are fully fleshed out as well, from the pure-hearted Billy Golden to the nefarious J.P. Morgan. Drachman gives us enough to care about the main players (even the bad guys) but not so much to draw away from Watt O'Hugh's story.


The Ghosts Of Watt O'Hugh is a fun read and leaves you wanting more. Luckily it is the first part of a trilogy. The book was reissued in May of this year along with the second installment. It is definitely worth picking up. It has a wide appeal of fans of westerns, sci-fi/fantasy, alternate reality, or just plain good writing. 

Irenicon By Aidan Harte

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

History is filled with great people who have made tremendous impacts on the world. These people acquire many followers as well as enemies. They have their fair share of near misses with death that could have dramatically changed the outcome of mankind. What if a horse ran down Gandhi when he was in college in London? What if Lincoln drowned while canoeing down Sangomon River? What if Herod was successful in killing Christ as a baby? Mr. Harte attempts to answer the last question.


Rasenna is the strongest city in this parallel version of middle-aged Italy. Decades before the story begins, another powerful city, Concord uses a technology known as the Wave to send the river, Irenicon, through the center of Rasenna separating it into north and south and killing the leaders. Now Rasenna is torn apart by infighting. Sofia, by far the best warrior, is about to become the Contessa on her seventeenth birthday. She will inherit a city that will soon destroy itself. Harte throws us right into the action at the beginning. We get a good understanding of the city and how the denizens fight with one another: they use a distinct type of martial arts and flags to do battle. The only real problem at the beginning is that we are introduced to so many characters that it quickly gets confusing who is who. Aside from Sofia and Doc, the rest of the names are Italianesque and are easily confused with one another.


Concord decides to send one of its engineers to build a bridge in the middle of Rasenna, uniting the city once again. All other attempts to build a bridge have failed due to creatures known as Buio that live in the water. They attack and drown anyone who gets in the water or near it. But the engineer, Giovanni, has a device to keep the Buio at bay. The city is distrustful of Giovanni and his plans to build a bridge, especially Sofia. Both sides would have something to lose if they were able to easily cross back and forth. But Doc manipulates everyone into allowing the engineer to work. Concord wants the bridge for its army to cross to the south, it doesn’t really need Rasenna to be there. 


Giovanni is initially aggravated by the fact he can't get the city to work together. Every time he gets a little ahead there is sabotage or a mini revolt. But he finds a way to unite them by finding an old statue that fell in the river. The statue represents what the city used to be. The controlling powers see nothing but trouble in the city uniting, however Doc sees it as a way to get everything he wants. A series of politically motivated murders brings Concord's wraith down on Rasenna. Sofia is captured and taken to the ultimate prison where she learns a secret that could destroy Rasenna from the inside.


Aside from the bumpy start with the names, we are introduced into an interesting and very thoroughly developed world. Harte sculpted his alternative history out of actual history and beliefs. This mirroring lends a certain level of believability and realism to the novel. Also the political power play makes Rasenna life relatable as politics have always been ugly even though each generation thinks this time is the worst. The religion built around the worship of the Madonna instead of Christ is also fascinating, but Harte keeps it firmly in the backstory where it belongs. 


While the world building is top notch the action can be a bit strained at times. Art Bandiera was an interesting fighting form; Water Style was part Jeet Kune Do and part magical nonsense. Giving the protagonist too much power leads to The Matrix syndrome. If the protagonist can fight with little effort we all stop caring because there is no struggle. And the siege battle near the end of the book felt a little like the battle at the end of Army Of Darkness, a bit silly at times for a serious book.


Sofia's escape and journey abroad seemed misplaced and interrupted the flow of the novel. It did introduce some interesting characters like Levi and John Acuto. Also the concept of hiring soldiers to fight wars as being more civilized was an interesting idea. This part of the novel was well written, it just felt awkwardly wedged in. Along with that there were historian notes in between some of the chapters. It was something Jeff VanderMeer or Mark Z. Danielewski would do but it only went on for a bit and didn't really add anything.


All that aside, Irenicon was a fresh read that brought us into a wonderfully developed world. It is the first book of a trilogy but it does wrap itself up nicely. It has enough intrigue, action, and betrayal to keep you turning the pages. And, though I don't think it was meant this way, it is YA friendly and gives the young ones something to read other than lazy vampire novels. 


Swords of Good Men By Snorri Kristjansson

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Neil Gaimen's American Gods is generally the novel that comes to mind when you think about the clash of ancient and current belief systems. His novel had the old Norse gods, amongst others, battling with the modern gods of the television and the internet. It is a fantastic book and worth the read. But there is only a small amount of human involvement in the book. And the gods work their messages through men, generally men with swords. Kristjansson was less interested in looking at belief systems and more interested in the men at the heart of the battle.


Ulfar and Geiri are nobles that are traveling the known world due to a youthful indiscretion that lead Ulfar to be exiled from his home for a few years. The two are cousins by blood but consider each other brothers. Their last stop before returning home is the town of Stenvik. Stenvik is a heavily fortified town that has an unseen internal trouble brewing. Upon arriving Ulfar falls in love with a beautiful woman only to find that she is the wife of the town's greatest warrior and possible future chieftain. The two also befriend the blacksmith who has his own hidden, troubled past. But these will quickly be the least of their concerns.


On one side of Stenvik, King Olav Tryggvason of Norway is making his way across the land, forcing the belief of the White Christ on inhabitants or killing them. His army grows daily but is unstable as it makes its way toward Stenvik's heavily fortified walls. On the other side are dozens of ships full of multiple armies. These armies are bound together by a woman named Skuld who speaks for the Norse gods. She has enough magic to make men fall in line but she is orchestrating a battle for a very specific reason. 


Geiri is critically wounded in an accident. Before the leaders can react to the accident, Skuld's warriors begin attacking Stenvik. Stenvik's walls are thick and its warriors are strong, but as they are worn down repelling Skuld's warriors, King Olav is riding toward Stenvik ready to spread the word of the White Christ, or to spread the blood of Vikings.


Kristjannson made an interesting choice in creating this tale using some real history, such as King Olav Tryggvason, and mixing it with Norse mythology, such as Skuld, who was one of the fates. While there is a lot to mine from the Norse mythology, we are instead treated with a Viking world so richly created it swallows the reader whole. Again this was a fresh an interesting choice to make versus reviewing gods and their various battles. By time you get through the first few chapters you will have a good picture as to how life was lived by the Vikings, their politics, and their preparations for war. 


We are given multiple viewpoints (perhaps too many at times). With the exception of a few of the minor characters, none of the rest are really painted as bad guys. Each is given reasons for doing what he feels is just. It is truly amazing for a first time novelist to fill a book full of such a rich milieu and multidimensional characters. Kristjannson puts the reader in a weird spot where they want to cheer for everyone, even on opposing sides, and every warrior that falls in battle wounds us a little.


The novel isn't perfect. As I mentioned there are too many viewpoints, it skips back and forth quite a bit and there are some perspective switches that lead to confusion. There are way too many bombastic speeches crammed into the book as well. While there are some memorable things said, the reader is hit with too many and it all jumbles together. The movie Braveheart has a very memorable speech and has seeped into popular culture, but the writer's were aware enough not to add any more. If you make such a strong impression with one thing said, you will rob it of strength with more and more similar attempts. Also all of the forces converging on one town leave us wondering why. Stenvik's main advantages are its fortifications, which are targeted during the siege. 


There is never an attempt to shy away from gore and violence in Swords of Good Men. While this adds another layer of realism I think it desensitizes the readers a bit. We are overwhelmed by the violence from about the midpoint on, and when the more important characters are wounded or killed it just doesn't pack the same punch it could have. 


Overall this was a very well written novel for a first time novelist. It is a good bit of historical fiction, looking at how King Olav forcibly spread Christianity in Norway, mixed with mythology, Skuld and the Norse gods, and straight up war/fantasy fiction. The description of the Berserkers alone is worth reading the book. It is the first of a trilogy, and if the next two are as half as good as the first they are worth a read.

Known Devil By Justin Guatainis

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Once I got past the elves in the first paragraph (elves as bad guys, really?) I enjoyed Known Devil immensely. And don’t worry, the elves segue into far more fearsome creatures.


Justin Gustainis is the king of supernatural detective stories. We have reviewed three of his books here before, The Hades Project, Black Magic Woman, and Sympathy for the Devil. Known Devil is similar in tone to Sympathy.


Once again the hero is a hard boiled, human cop-detective (say that three times fast.) Stan Markowski works for the Scranton, Pennsylvania police department. His partner is Karl Renfer, a vampire. The book opens with the detectives having a coffee break inside Jerry’s Diner when two elves try to hold up the place. The elves are desperate for loot so they can buy the latest designer drug, slide.


The cops bust them without much trouble. The trouble is, supernaturals (supes for short) can’t become addicted to drugs. It’s impossible. Everybody knows it. (Except for goblins, of course—they take to meth like cold sores to prom queen’s lips.)  This could bring an ugly new dimension to the drug wars.


Thus begins an investigation into the supernatural criminal world of Scranton. The hold-up is quickly followed by a shootout between mafia kingpins. A bomb destroys the unofficial leader of the supes, a vampire. All hell begins to break loose.

Detective Stan lives with his daughter Christine, a vampire like Karl, and from the beginning we get the sense that she is in danger, either from slide or from the gangsters Stan is trying to bring down. Christine has a neat personality and the father/daughter scenes are some of my favorite.


The plot can be summed up with occult crimes detective Carmela Aquilina’s words, “A new drug on the streets, addicted supes going crazy, and a gang war, to boot. God, I love this job!”


All of this ends up being peripheral to a race war between certain members of the community and the supes reminiscent of the conflicts between humans and mutants in the X-men. In Known Devil, the “Patriot Party” wants to cut property taxes in half and bring about corresponding cuts in government services, cuts the Patriot Party aims squarely at “poor people, unwed mothers, or people with substance abuse problems…” 


Besides hating on poor people, unwed mothers, and addicts (Gustainis throws in gays as well), the Patriot’s primary objection is to supernaturals.


“Since supes weren’t human, their argument went, they couldn’t be considered citizens and therefore had no basis to claim civil rights.” Fortunately this ill-disguised slam on the tea-party is followed by detective Stan’s observation, “I wondered if that meant the supes didn’t have to pay taxes, either.” Stan’s matter-of-fact sense of humor is his most redeeming quality and one of the principal attractions of Gustainis’ work.


The intrusion of a contemporary political attack eliminates the possibility of Known Devil delivering a universal message on tolerance. You’re either going to cheer the book on or cringe at the stereotyping of tea party politics, but you aren’t going to absorb any meaningful lessons.


Like Gustainis’ other books, Known Devil isn’t really a who-done-it. Most of the clues comes out within the first third of the novel and the rest can be guessed at. The fun comes in watching the police bring the perps down—and in reading the fabulous dialog. Stan has to be one of the funniest cops since Eddie Murphy played in Beverly Hills Cops I.


On the negative side, I would have rather seen the supernaturals act a bit more uncanny. These supes walk around like people, eat, drive cars, and get heartburn just like the rest of us. They are plagued by the same personality disorders and bad hair days. Even the vampires prefer to get in a gunfight than to use their super strength. Apparently they can fly...so why don't they? I would be flying all over the place if I could do it. Apart from a few notable exceptions, most of the action could have taken place in a Mario Puzo novel set in present day. 


All in all, Known Devil will satisfy supernatural detective fans and is a good place to start for anyone wishing to dip a toe in this subgenre. The theme can be summarized by a quote Gustainis chose for his opening:  


All sin tends to be addictive, and the terminal point of addiction is what is called damnation. – poet W.H. Auden

Everthing is Epic By Michael C. Keith

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Short story collections are always a mixed bag; it's their very nature. With the exception of authors like Amy Hempel and Raymond Carver, you very rarely get quality stories throughout. But if you were to layout a collection you should at least attempt to keep some form or theme the way a good music album can.


Everything Is Epic runs the gamut of every type of story from horror/sci-fi to literary character driven stories. A man who exaggerates about everything sees aliens. A father always keeps flashlights for a very dark reason. Nature decides it has had enough and fights back. A young boy finds confidence learning about his ancestors. A son turns violent over Hunter's Pie. A soldier tries to make things right, but only hurts everyone. A doctor experiments with patients with horrifying results. A man attempts to spend eternity with the literary greats. Overly polite behavior has harsh effects. A couple gets a chance encounter with one of The Beatles. These are just some of the stories contained within but a good example how they run.


As I stated above, there is no real reason to collect these stories together other than being written by the same person. The lack of balance left me disoriented reading the collection, which you can take as good or bad. Personally I like to have some underlying theme or structure to collections. At the very least they could have been grouped within the collection:  have all the sci-fi stories together, then character-driven stories, and then horror. Though, as a guess I'd say the stories are laid out this way to distract the reader from some of the weaker ones. 


The flash fiction (less than a thousand words) was definitely the weakest of the bunch. Each short piece had a Richard Matheson-esque twist ending. The problem with making all of your flash fiction end with twists is that you have to use some gimmicks early on to throw the reader off. If you've ever seen the old Twilight Zone you'll see that there is going to be a twist from a mile away. Another problem is most of the twists are random and have no real reason for happening, not to mention being very strained. At the end of each flash piece I found myself mildly annoyed, and quickly forgetting what I just read.


The non-speculative stories are definitely the better end of the bunch but they are nothing to write home about either. I would have preferred to read an entire collection of this type of story. The character development was uneven from story to story. Too much time was devoted to the plots instead of the characters. The best of the bunch was the final story, "Over The Border." It is the story of a writer who gets stuck in a lie and has to keep running with it. It was also the second longest story, which makes me think the others were just rushed through to get to the twist or to qualify for flash fiction.


The last story of the collection shows that the author really has some talent. Besides "Gertrude's Grave" and "Over The Border", the rest of the stories are largely forgettable. Pick it up for those two stories but skip the rest.

The Weredog Whisperer By Susan Abel Sullivan

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Where else to start a madcap romp through were-tackiness but at a roadside attraction? Middle-aged Bertram Tidwell wants to have children and narrator Cleo is—at best—a noncommittal thirty nine. They run a trial by adopting a pit bull terrier named Luna and taking their nieces on a vacation to Florida.

But of course they have to stop at a roadside attraction dubbed The Werewolf Whisperer en route. There the oddball proprietor Tobias T. Talbot—or perhaps his Chinese crested dog—falls in love with Luna. The dog-man actually begins sending flowers and love letters to the pit bull terrier.

Weird. Of course, Cleo and husband Bertram Tidwell are no strangers to weird. In their last adventure Bertram was possessed by the spirit of Elvis Presley, who had previously been holed up in a tacky velvet painting.

Fans of Haunted Housewives of Allister, Alabama won’t be disappointed by the sequel. The Weredog Whisperer introduces a new protagonist, new adventures, and a completely new dynamic, while retaining Cleo Tidwell’s irresistible southern narration.

Cleo bounces from one funny observation to another, capturing boatloads of slightly embarrassing Americana along the way. It’s hard to pick a favorite line, but “All I can say is thank God for Speedos” certainly ranks up there. The humor contains just enough of an eww factor to make it divine. 

After her unfortunate encounter with the Chinese crested dog, Luna the pit bull terrier begins to show some human tendencies—such as using the commode instead of taking a walk. Cleo begins to have suspicions that something above her usual state of abnormal is going on when Luna receives a love letter and flowers. But in the middle of a doggie show when her Luna (wearing a blue leotard with a hole cut out for the tail) transforms into a girl of 15 in front of everyone, she’s more than freaked out. She’s positively floored.

The family adopts Luna instantly.

I won’t spoil the fun by any more reveals. Suffice to say that my wife has already requested a copy of her own. 

One thing I like is that this is a family friendly book. By this I mean that not only is The Weredog Whisperer totally appropriate to recommend to ages teen through adult, but that the Tidwell family actually gets along. Even Cleo’s mother-in-law, contrary to standard fare, is a major support. Who knew you could write a story featuring a functional family?

If The Weredog Whisperer doesn’t have you busting a gut then your sense of humor has definitely gone…well, you know the rest.



Vyrkarion: The Talisman of Anor By J. A. Cullum

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

When you think of the word Wizard an image of an old man with long white hair, a long white beard, a long cloak (generally with stars on it), and a staff of some sort comes to mind. I'm not sure why this image is so engrained. Names such as Merlin, Gandalf, and now Harry Potter are attached with the term. But wizardry could be something that you are born with and could apply to any race, or gender.


Vyrkarion is a living crystal granting immense power to the wizard that wields it. The only problem is that the most powerful human wizards are all male and Vyrkarion only works with female wizards. The guardian of the crystal is gravely wounded but a chance meeting with Alanna Cairan, the Tamrai of Fell, lands the crystal in her hands. Alanna is a healer who has the potential to be a great wizard if she receives the proper training. Unfortunately, the most powerful human wizard, Jerevan Rayne, the Wizard of Leybrun, is wounded in a battle with some of the Isklarin (were-lizards) wizards. Right off the bat we are introduced to people with confusing names and titles that are used interchangeably. All the major characters seem to have this problem and it does wear on the reader over time.


At the same time, a half god, half mad king, Rhys Cinnac, is making his way toward Ninkarrak, the capitol, where it is prophesied the current king will die and Rhys will take over. The king's son, the crippled Aubrey, is destined to become the most powerful wizard. But there is a plot to take him out before he has a chance to grow into his power and even his closest guards are in on it. 


Jerevan heals, but Alanna refuses his training because he has a bad reputation and she is a noblewoman. She gets kidnapped by Aavik, the evil wizard of the Isklarin, and rescued by Jerevan. Only after that does she start to trust him and the two begin their long, arduous, and boring (for the reader and apparently the characters) training sessions. Jerevan tells Alanna that they can link using Vyrkarion, increasing her powers quickly, but the link will be forever and the weaker wizard could be swallowed by the stronger. But they may have no choice as the plot to kill the king and his son goes into motion and Rhys is making his way toward Ninkarrak.


Wizard is a unisex word but it seems like there should be a word for female wizard like there is a word for male witch--enchantress, maybe? We are hit with the word wizard too much from the get go. Their powers are never clearly defined and they seem to be able to do whatever the plot needs them to at the moment. The main power they have seems to be shooting "lasers" at one another and then either dying or falling unconscious, either of which seems to be a huge problem in the heat of battle. The wizards in this novel keep falling over like fainting goats and it makes me wonder why someone doesn't just walk up and stab them in the face when they are unconscious. Also the energy battles are just as boring as the ones seen in the Harry Potter movies where they just kind of stand there and wait for someone to win.


There seems to be little bursts of action--that really don't contain that much action--followed by long passages of boringness. Alanna is rescued by Jerevan, whom she has a strong attraction to, and then she spends the next few months memorizing wizard oaths, concentrating on candles, and learning telepathy that she can't really do, so she is just thinking…One of the other love stories is between Minta, Aubrey's wet-nurse, and Thrym a were-lizard that is a good guy because he says so. She meets him when he sneaks into her room and is evasive as to why he broke in (he is a thief). Nothing like completely trusting and falling in love with one of your enemies as they are breaking into your room, stealing stuff.


The most interesting romantic subplot was between Elath and Fal, two mercenaries hired to help the wizards. Fal is mutilated while helping the wizards and Elath sticks by his side. These seemed to be the only two that were in love that weren't physically beautiful. They both had flaws and had to struggle more than the rest of the characters, yet they weren't really given much exploration. 


Overall the book was predictable and a bit stale. It's appropriate for the YA crowd, giving them something to read other than vampire novels. If you are a fan of the series or if you are looking for a mild romance/fantasy, Vyrkarion will fill that need. But if you want something original you may want to skip this one. 

A Short Stay in Hell By Steven L. Peck

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

There is much talk about forever and eternity. With love songs and chick-flicks aside, a large portion of religions has something to say on the matter of eternity. Most people go through life accepting that they will just go on indefinitely, we have no other way to look at things. But people don't often stop and ask what forever means. Steven L. Peck is someone who has taken a stab at the concept, and after reading A Short Stay In Hell you won't be able to stop thinking about it.


Soren Johansson was a good Mormon and did everything he thought was correct in life. He was surprised to find himself in hell when he died. He finds that he didn't worship the one true religion (Zoroastrianism in the novel), and now he is cast into a hell by a god he has never heard of. But hell isn't forever; it is a test. In Soren's case he is tossed into a giant library. The library is the same as The Library Of Babel by Jorge Luis Borges: the library contains every book that has ever been written and every book that could ever be written. To get out all he has to do is find the book that contains his life story. But as Soren discovers how many books there are, he realizes that forever is much shorter than the time it will take him to find the right book.


This very short novel is extremely impressive. Told in a very formal and detached manner, we are shown a hell that is as familiar as it is horrifying. The target audience (of any novel really) is avid book readers. It is interesting to present something that seems delightful, even heavenly, as a library in such a horrific manner. The most convincing aspect of the novel is the narrator's acceptance of it all. He never stops to question the reality of what is happening; instead he learns the rules and develops relationships with others trapped with him.


Peck is good enough to know that as fascinating as his premise is, he needed to add extra amounts of drama to keep the reader's interest. Peck explores concepts like having a relationship for hundreds of years, having suicidal thoughts and actions (when every time you die you are just reborn the following day), and what horrible things people can do to each other given enough time. The cult that crops up in the novel seems less surprising than expected. What is interesting is the fact that if you are reborn in perfect health every morning, there is a limitless amount of physical torture that can be done to those the cult captures. 


The greatest thing any novel can do is to resonate with the reader. A Short Stay In Hell will stay with you for a long time after reading it. The book is only a little over a hundred pages yet it spans the course of 160 billion years. And at the end of reading it you'll have a better understanding of forever, and maybe even a fear of it.


The Braided Path By Donna Glee Williams

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

The Braided Path is a quiet book, full of good characters trying to discover their path. In fact, the metaphor of the path runs throughout the book. The path, the rope, the braids that bind individuals together into couples and couples together into communities. It is a love story, a coming of age story, and a fable. Mostly it is about characters seeking their place in their world.


While this is undoubtedly an invented universe, I pictured The Braided Path taking place in the remote villages in the Andes Mountains, a single stone-hewn path leading from one village to another to another with jagged saw-tooth mountains as far as the eye can see, each taller than the last, snow covered and impassable. Each villager knows only his village and a little more, those towns to which he has walked on the stone-hewn path, and those few more he has heard about. The villagers are naïve in the way natives on remote islands can be naïve, believing that cities and ships and yes, even the ocean are but tales used to frighten children. There is only the path, and the youth must find their place on it, their home village, their trade, their lovers and their family. Anyone who travels to more than a handful of villages is considered a Far-Walker.


Cam and Fox are two such youth. Friends at first, and then lovers, the two walk past villages and more villages, trying to find their limits. Cam is drawn ever upwards, and Fox towards the mythical ocean at the bottom of the world, until one day when Cam hears about hot springs in the snowy reaches Fox refuses to climb. After much distress, Cam abandons her, intending to explore the warm-water oasis and return in a few short weeks.


But that never happens.


Cam crosses the pass between the great peaks only to find the path intersects more paths. Soon he is swept away (literally, but I won't spoil the surprise) and fights to survive in a world completely beyond his experience, the world of commerce and congestion.


Meanwhile Fox finds herself with child. Snow blocks the path Cam took over the mountains, and down below, an earthquake destroys the path. The villages become more isolated than ever; trade from down below stops. If the villagers don't come together their way of life will be destroyed forever. Even survival is questionable, especially for the young mother and her newborn.


There are many precious characters in The Braided Path. Len, Cam's mother and a lifeline to Fox. Nish, the visiting fisherman who claims his very house borders the ocean. Lia Midwife who fights like a badger to keep Fox's baby alive--and has the badger's temper. Genia, the captain of The Duck, a river trader who treats her crew as family, unless the ship gets untidy. Then watch out.


The Braided Path defies genre description. It is a fantasy without magic. A romance without quarreling courtship. An adventure without villains. Most of all, The Braided Path celebrates the quest for purpose at the heart of so much human endeavor while at the same time celebrating humanity itself, friendship, love, wounded communities drawing together in a struggle shared.


This is the perfect book to read on a sunny day with the heat on your back. Not because a thunderhead would frighten you--it is not that kind of book--but because it is a sunny kind of book. The kind that makes you glad you read it, the day a little brighter.

Shards of History By Rebecca Roland

Reviewed by Adria Laycraft

Shards of History is a passionate tale that will engage both young adults and more weathered fantasy readers. Author Rebecca Roland brings us an exciting new fantasy world where using magic burns your memories away, fierce flying creatures are more than they seem, and the ultimate sacrifice is the price of magical protection.


In this story characters reveal their depths slowly, and Roland even allows the antagonists to have their own story arc. However, readers barely have time to catch their breath between the escapades of our heroine Malia, and will cheer on this feisty protagonist as she struggles to prevent a senseless war while battling her own prejudices and preconceptions. The story propels the reader with high conflict that mostly makes sense, drawing us along willingly on Malia's quest.


Malia's people are the Taakwa, and they fear the flying beasts of the cliffs known as Jeguduns. Meanwhile a much graver threat resides in the Outsiders gathering an army to invade the valley. Roland drives the stakes ever higher as the truth of Malia's situation is revealed, creating a page-turner that I didn't want to put down.


The cultural world-building Roland did for Malia's people was perhaps my favorite part of this book. Here in this matriarchal society a woman can put a man's things out the door if she feels mistreated in any way, and yet Malia still has to fight for her freedom and independence, still has to work against those who would use her for her power, and still has to overcome her own issues of self-doubt to find the truth. It reminds me of LeGuin's Always Coming Home in this way. 


The Taakwa, Jeguduns, and Outsiders are all fully developed and unique from each other. Within each race we get believable 'bad guys' that are truly frightening. On top of this great foundation of world-building we enjoy solid character development where our protagonist has to face her darkest demons, be braver than everyone else, and win the day through her own efforts and sacrifice. Malia, despite her youth and inexperience, is a true leader and proves it time and again, making her easy to root for. Meanwhile her companions are just as likable and believable without stealing the show.


Roland, an Odyssey graduate who writes both fantasy and horror, has also compiled a collection of stories in the same world called The King of Ash and Bones, and Other Stories. This four-story collection explores, among other things, the life of exile Rasmus, digging deeper into the culture of the Taakwa and their practice of exiling those who do not conform to established belief systems. 

Shards of History is published by World Weaver Press, an exciting small press that supports new authors of fantasy. They obviously take pride in their work, creating strong cover art and solid promotional efforts.


In short, Shards of History contains fabulous world-building, believable characters, high action, and captivating creatures. This is a read I'd highly recommend for readers of fantasy looking for something completely new to devour.

After Death Edited by Eric J. Guignard, Illustrated by Audra Phillips

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

Contributing Authors: Andrew S. Williams, Alvaro Rodriguez, Edward M. Erdelac, Steve Rasnic Tem, Lisa Morton, John M. Floyd, Kelda Crich, David Steffen, Aaron J. French, Sanford Allen, Josh Rountree, Brad C. Hodson, James S. Dorr, Ray Cluley, Jonathan Shipley, Jacob Edwards, John Palisano, Bentley Little, Jamie Lackey, Robert B. Marcus, Jr., David Tallerman, Christine Morgan, William Meikle, Peter Giglio, Simon Clark, Kelly Dunn, Trevor Denyer, Steve Cameron, Larry Hodges, Benjamin Kane Ethridge, Emily C. Skaftun, Joe McKinney, Josh Strnad, Allan Izen, & John Langan


Publisher: Dark Moon Books (April 5, 2013)



Death is something that has touched everyone and something we all have to face at some point. What comes next is the ultimate mystery and a question all of us ask at one time or another. All religions and mythologies offer up some answers, but with so many different ones how can we be sure. Is there an everlasting paradise, torment, limbo, or something in between? After Death is an anthology of 34 stories that attempt to answer the question in some form or another. 


After Death is an impressive collection with tales such as: A man tries to remember his life while waiting on the river Styx. An evil man kidnaps a seven-year-old, who desperately wishes for something, and gets it. An unemployed man wanders Aokigahara, the Japanese suicide forest, with an ill planned out end in mind. Can sleep be preparation for death? In the future your body can be renewed if you die, you just better not miss payments. Reincarnation can bring you back to your loved ones but only to be an animal by their side, watching as they move on without you. Joe Strummer finds himself in the afterlife, and the order he is supposed to follow though his very being rejects order. Each belief system is taken over by the new more powerful one, but some of the old beliefs don’t want to be trapped. The afterlife is a period of endless waiting, only some don't want to wait; some want to take over. The afterlife may not just be for humans. If everything dies and moves on, what happens if God dies and moves on? The anticipation of torment truly can be worse than the torment itself. A man who studied the afterlife his whole life dies but finds a way to come back; the story he tells makes everyone want to live forever.


This was truly an exceptional collection of stories. Anthologies are always a mixed bag; it is their nature. Though there weren't any bad stories included within, there was a handful that was easily forgettable. The reincarnation into an animal (whether as punishment or reward) is a tired trope. The reincarnation stories were well written they've just been done too many times before. A few stories that really stood out were "The Reckless Alternative," "Like a Bat out of Hell," "I Was The Walrus," "My Father Knew Douglas MacArthur," and "Hellevator."  I felt the final story, "With Max Barry in the Nearer Precincts" by John Langan, was a bit of a weak note to end on. Langan took an original stance on the afterlife that was broad and powerful, but the execution was lacking. It was a dry description of an intriguing afterlife that was in ruins. It was similar to "The Dream-Quest Of The Unknown Kadath" by Lovecraft, but it doesn't have the same impact or resonance on the reader.


Guignard introduces each story in a Rod Serling-esque manner, both laying out a general idea of the story and setting the mood in which to read it. Editors can be a blessing or a curse (depending on where the writer's story gets used, or doesn't). A bad editor may stack big names in an anthology, generally one in the front and the rest in the back. Guignard is of the former. The stories are placed perfectly: the first stories act as an introduction and the last stories work as a good closing. The stories that are similar are placed far enough apart not to be mixed up. And enough different visions are represented to hold our interest.


Overall I found this to be a great collection that I looked forward to each time I picked it up. Even the weaker stories wouldn't keep me from reading it again. It may not answer the questions of what lay beyond death, but it will give you something to think about. And ultimately give us pause to think about our lives and whether we live them the way we truly want to or not. 


Amazon link:


http://www.amazon.com/After-Death-Eric-J-Guignard/dp/0988556928/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1393282526&sr=8-2


Ex-Heroes By Peter Clines

Reviewed by Nu Yang

When the front cover blurb on your very first book says, “The Avengers meets The Walking Dead...” readers expect to read a pretty good book. After all, it's being marketed after one of the biggest movies and one of the most popular TV shows on right now. Plus, superheroes and zombies are hot—like volcano hot. It's going to attract fans of both genres, fans like me!


Overall, I enjoyed the book. Ex-Heroes has a unique premise: superheroes in the zombie apocalypse?! And a really cool setting: Los Angeles. Most of the time, you have survivors of a zombie apocalypse taking shelter in the middle of nowhere, but it was pretty entertaining to have the superheroes and human survivors take out zombies—including celebrities—in the city of Angels. By the way, the more famous the celebrity, the more points you get for that kill!


Clines doesn't call the undead zombies, they're “exes,” as in ex-humans. Haven't seen that term before.


As a Southern California resident, it was cool to picture downtown Los Angeles littered with exes. Clines did a good job with the setting and making it believable that superheroes can also take part of the zombie apocalypse.


Clines gives each superhero some good backstory of what life was like for them before the exes existed. Even though superheroes played the point of view characters, it still felt like a very human book. Each superhero plays an important in the story, and without giving much away, let's just say none of the superheroes are wasted in this ensemble piece.


I like how Clines ramped up the conflict. Not only do we have the undead roaming the streets, we also have a street gang on the other side of town to deal with. Zombies and dangerous criminals? What else is there? Oh, yeah, every superhero needs a villain, and guess what? Villains also exist in this zombie apocalypse, but I won't spoil you on who the villain is or what this villain can do.


Clines doesn't shy away from the gore. It's a zombie book, right? We have missing limbs, blood, headless corpses, even a child-ex that “(crashes) down a dozen blocks away in a splash of bone and meat.”


Now, there were some cons for me in this book. This is more a personal preference, but I felt like there were too many POV characters. The book uses flashbacks (a pet peeve of mine) titled THEN, each one is told from a separate superhero's POV, then in the present titled NOW, it's told in third person. At the beginning, it was hard for me to keep track of each character and when it slipped in THEN, sometimes, I lost track of which superhero we were time-traveling with. At least with The Avengers, each superhero got his own movie before they assembled (haha). Clines also went back and forth a few times by calling superheroes by their superhero name (ex. Cerberus) and their civilian names (ex. Danielle). More things for me to remember. It's okay for a character or two, but when you have six superheroes as your main characters, it can get messy. It doesn't help when one of them is named Zzzap either.


I also noticed that perhaps Clines has something against strong Asian women (*clears throat*). Each time an Asian woman was introduced, he described them as “bitchy.” Example: “Who the hell is Sandra Oh?” when the group  thinks they see the undead actress. “From Grey's Anatomy. The bitchy Asian woman” is the answer. And then there's, “One of the civilians, a bitchy former LA city councilwoman named Christian Nguyen...”


Other than that, Ex-Heroes was a fun read that geeks everywhere might enjoy.


Clockwork Heart By Dru Pagliassotti

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

With all of our technological advances we are still left scratching our heads when it comes to interacting with one another. Human knowledge doubles every 12 months*. We have statistics to back up everything, though we generally ignore them if they go against what we believe. What if society was built around analyzing and using the data that we are always collecting? Would we be better off or would the same old problems keep cropping up?


Taya is an Icarus. She soars above the city of Ondinium delivering messages, sort of like a human carrier pigeon. One day as she is resting above the city an explosion rips her out of her thoughts and she dives in to save the passengers on a wireferry. Right off the bat Pagliassotti throws us into her the world she created without long explanations of it or its mechanics. We are forced to learn on our feet and it wouldn't hurt for other sci-fi/fantasy/steampunk writers to take note.


Taya ends up saving the life of an exalted and her child. She is given a hero's treatment and ends up meeting one of the youngest exalted to hold office, Alister, and his brother, Cristof, who has given up his life as an exalted to live among the people. Taya finds herself attracted to both the charming Alister and the cold Cristof. But one of them is not what he appears. Taya finds herself swept up in a plot that could disrupt the Great Engine. The Great Engine is a giant analytical machine that is the heart of Ondinium; all of the important decisions are made off of the Great Engine's programs. But who is trying to help her and who is trying to kill her?


As I said, the novel starts of with a bang and runs along smoothly at first. Pagliassotti doesn't waste words in setting everything up but as soon as the brothers are introduced the novel starts to jerk and bump along. The brothers are supposed to be opposites: Alister is the smooth, handsome politician and Cristof is the ugly, mean mechanic. However this point is made over and over again. I'm not sure if it is an attempt to foreshadow or distract, but it doesn't work well either way. 


The world is very interesting and we are allowed to explore it at our own pace as clues and descriptions are slowly dripped in. Everything in this steampunk world has an explanation as to why it's there and how it works. There are too many speculative novels out there where things happen just because, or that don't bother with explanations because "it's magic." The explanations are handled beautifully. I never felt jerked out of the book when characters were going over something. 


The biggest problem I saw with the book is that the main story and climax happen about 50-70 pages away from the end. Everything is basically wrapped up and resolved with the main conflict yet the books continues on with a secondary problem. It seems an odd choice, unless the secondary plot was opening up the next book. But even then the order could have been flipped without affecting the next book in the series.


Overall, not a bad little book. It is a little rough around the edges but it will take you to an interesting new world with relatable characters. 



*Schiling, D.R. (2013, April 19) Knowledge Doubling Every 12 Months, Soon to be Every 12 Hours. Industrytap.com

The Wild Boys By Travis Heermann

Reviewed by Donna Glee Williams

The cover of Travis Heermann’s new novel completely relieves me of my usual reviewer’s angst about spoilers; it tells you everything I might pussyfoot around in order to let you discover it yourself. The fierce and furry canine countenance misting into the profile of a teen beauty, along with the tag-line (“One 16 year old girl versus a plague of beasts,”) the title (The Wild Boys), and a prominent full moon—in case you’d missed the point—are billboard-sized road-signs: Welcome to Werewolf County, population one pint-sized high school girl named Mia, her Shar-Pei, her Japanese mother, her FBI dad, the icy-eyed ex-marine Slade with a toothy secret and plans for the new master race that will depose ordinary humans from the top of the food chain.


While the tell-all cover design makes sure that readers of this book know exactly what they’ve signed on for, it’s in some ways a disservice to the author’s careful suspense-building craft in the first third of the book. The creepiness accelerates gradually through the ominous goings-on at the spooky Saint Sebastian’s School for Children, animal mutilations, missing students, an off-screen attack on a runner on a lonely nighttime jogging path, and rumors of unknown carnivores stalking the streets of Omaha. Both during the build-up and when the gloves come off, the scary scenes reveal a writer who has definitely put in his time in front of big-screen classic horror:


He felt eyes on the back of his neck, and looked over his shoulder. The path was empty, but his legs found fresh speed. His breath pumped in and out of him, hoarse and dry with exertion.


A sound filtered through the undergrowth, a heavy rhythmic breathing, matching his, pacing him, leaves and branches pushed aside for the passage of something he could not see. Was it his breathing or something else he heard? Fear bloomed like ice, and he kept looking over his shoulder for signs of something he knew chased him. How many of them were there? His legs and arms pumped, pounding his sneakers, stretching the naked flesh of his legs, the largest portion of meat.


When a writer tackles a classic genre pattern like, oh, say, teen werewolf horror, for example, one of the challenges is dealing with the tension of being faithful to the form while bringing something new to the game. So, what makes this werewolf story different from other werewolf stories? There’s the main character’s Japanese roots—grounded in the author’s experience as an exchange teacher in Japan. There’s also a scientific rather than supernatural underpinning to lycanthropy, a choice that opens the door to fun with secret military intelligence operations and public health considerations. There’s the fact that the story doesn’t end with everyone unchanged from their adventures, ready to go back to their safe and normal lives. And, not least, there’s Mia’s dog, Deuce. As far as I know, Deuce is the first Shar-Pei to appear as a main character in a horror novel and, hey, who doesn’t love a Shar-Pei?


The Wild Boys will be of interest to teens or readers who enjoy stepping back into the world where firing an F-bomb across your parents’ bows is radical rebellion and a single kiss can rock your world. (The author has done time teaching teenagers and knows whereof he speaks.) The book’s action-packed, short chapters make it a fast, easy summer read.

A Cold Season By Alison Littlewood

Reviewed by Adam Armstrong

As parents we have both rational and irrational fears that crop up all the time. We set forth to do what we believe is best. But we don't intentionally put our children at risk. And unlike the protagonist, Cass, we generally avoid risking our children's safety over something as silly as work. 


Cass and her son Ben are moving to her childhood town of Darnshaw to start over after losing Pete, Cass's husband and Ben's Father. Cass has one good memory followed by nothing but bad memories about Darnshaw and yet she wants to expose her child to this. Mother and son move into a mill converted to an apartment building. Upon arriving they find that they are the only ones living there. Not only that, the apartment under theirs isn't finished being constructed and there is a hole where the window should be letting all the elements in. I'm not sure how things are built in the UK but I really doubt anyone would construct a building like this, completely finish and furnish the upper floor and leave the lower floor exposed to the elements.


A tremendous snowfall comes in knocking out phones lines, the internet, and cellphone service, but not the power oddly enough. Cass has to walk Ben to his new school. When they arrive they find that his teacher is sick and has been replaced by Theo Remick. Cass finds herself drawn to Remick. And thus begins many pages about walking in the snow and silly foreshadowing about the bad guy. I'm all for setting up an atmosphere of foreboding, but I think it can be handled a lot better than just beating the reader over the head with lots of snow and lots of walking in it.


Ben begins to pull away from his mother, being despondent at times and downright horrible at others. Though Cass sees that many other children in the village are terrible little brats, not to mention their parents behaving equally poorly, she allows her son to hang out with them. Anytime she tries to take her son away from everything it all boils down to him saying he won't go and her agreeing. In fact, when Cass finds out that some of the people of the village aren't just bad people but evil people, she still allows her son to stay with them so she can get work done. 


As we round the corner into the third act the novel completely falls apart. People that were thought dead show up and it seems acceptable to the characters. Estranged and hated family members are welcomed back into the fold because it is convenient to the plot. The bad guy, who is the ultimate bad guy, is defeated with little more than a tackle. There seems to be a sappy they lived "happily ever after" ending that is ruined with a twist so poor that it makes even the worst Twilight Zone episode look good by comparison. 


There are a lot of things wrong here and not many saving graces. Littlewood isn't a terrible writer but the plot is riddled with holes along with having a big old case of boring thrown all over it. I kept waiting for some sort of explanation to some of the more glaring holes. If an entire village is evil except for three people, why bother hiding it from those three people? Why are cellphones not working because of a snowstorm that didn't even knock the power out? If an entire town is secluded because of the weather, can't the authorities send in some help? Some of this could be explained better if the novel took place a few decades ago but it takes place in the present. 


Perhaps Littlewood's next novel should focus more on the characters and less on the setting. Give this one a pass unless you really like reading about snow and walking.

The Demoness of Waking Dreams By Stephanie Chong

Reviewed by Adria Laycraft

This book starts with promise. It opens in a delightful gothic setting of a church in Venice, where we are immediately drawn into the chilling suspense of looming danger with a conjuring of words like sacrifice, ornate, and bodice. How could a reader go wrong?


Unfortunately, things do go wrong.


Stephanie Chong holds five university degrees and lives in Vancouver, Canada. Her series, A Company of Angels, of which The Demoness of Waking Dreams is second, claims to 'explore the nature of good and evil' and a 'love that blurs the lines'.


Sure, opposites attract, and so Chong has decided to push the idea to extremes by having an angel and a demon fall in love, impossible love. There is some merit to this idea as a tension-filled romance.


Unfortunately I'm frequently thrown out of the story by the unlikely image of these great beings acting so helpless. They are called powerful, and occasionally they even tease the reader with small shows of power, but most of the story could easily be told without the angel/demon labels and nothing much would change.


In the romance, an angel detective has to capture a rogue demon. It seems so straightforward, but many of the character's choices don't make sense until later in the story, when the rules of this world are finally explained. These rules might be in the first book, but I feel it's a mistake to assume your reader has read each book in the series.


My biggest complaint is that the demons and their servants, called Gatekeepers (for no clear reason), are not very evil half the time, nor the angels very angelic. I guess I was hoping for some clear-cut, big show of good versus evil that could then be challenged when the characters make big choices later in the story. It didn't work out that way. Instead they all seem a little conflicted, just like humans.


While all the details for a believable ending are established earlythat a demon may be redeemed and become an angel, this set up is left unfinished, as if to leave room for a sequel.


Add to that the prose problems, teleportation, overblown sex scenes, and rampant repetition, and I'm left disappointed.


"To truly seduce a man...you've got to get inside his head." Here is what I hoped would be our deepest theme, the idea that really getting inside someone's true heart and knowing them deeply makes a huge difference in the choices we make. There was promise here, too, but it was not used to its potential.


I like a good romance as much as the next girl, so my take is that this particular Harlequin left something to be desired.

Mage's Blood By David Hair

Reviewed by Eileen Wiedbrauk

The first in a planned quartet, Mage’s Blood is the almost 700-page opening novel of David Hair’s Moontide Quartet. It is set in a fantasy world similar to ours during the Crusades, with one large difference: magi. Travel between the two continents of Urte is only possible by magi-driven windship, except for a stretch of time every twelve years, when the magi-made Leviathan Bridge rises out of the sea and provides a land crossing—one the northern continent has used to move armies on two prior Crusades, wreaking destruction on the city of Hebusalim. The novel follows multiple characters during the year proceeding Moontide (the time when the bridge can rise) and their fighting and scheming to change the world to their benefit.

 

With a whole host of point-of-view characters—about a dozen in all, nearly half of whom I’d consider “main characters,” they hit on all the good tropes: boy-wizard, female assassin-warrior, marriage of convenience, crossed lover, etc.—few of them can be considered “heroes” and fewer still can be considered “good,” or at the very least, “well intentioned.” As readers, we’ve been conditioned to expect to be introduced to the hero of the story early on, or at least to a disreputable-but-redeemable character. Mage's Blood takes the opposite tack. In the first 45 pages, we meet only characters who are in the habit of killing children, whether for profit or sustenance. We are tricked into thinking Gurvon Gyle might be a character we can root for—sure he runs the nastiest ring of assassins and spies on the continent and he’s advocating for the death of an entire royal family, children and all, but by comparison to the corrupt and possibly insane Emperor and Imperial Mother, Gurvon doesn’t seem half-bad—it’s a poor assumption. Throughout the novel, characters are constantly shifting in the reader’s mind from likable to hideous, from creepy to benevolent, from romantic to fanatic. Overall, it makes for a striking storytelling choice, one that doesn’t let us rest easily on the notion of “our hero.” Instead, the narrative points steadily toward the conclusion that there are no devils or angels, there are only men.

 

While many second-world fantasy novels draw vaguely from European geography and history, Mage's Blood has a richness to it that comes so close to the actual history and customs of Europe and the Near East as to make me periodically stop and wonder whether I was remembering my history wrong or I had just tripped over one of the fantasy world’s small, intentional tweaks. In this respect, it’s not dissimilar from Jaqueline Carey’s Kushiel’s Dart. But where Kushiel’s Legacy blended sex, violence, and political intrigue, Mage's Blood is more stink, violence, and intrigue. Presenting a continually malodorous, if historically accurate, portrayal of life and travel before indoor plumbing. Never does the author pass up an opportunity to remind the reader that in such a world, any place where the public masses is a place of public urination en masse.

 

Fans of Game of Thrones will delight in the existence of this different-yet-similar fantasy series. However, I must admit that I couldn’t get far into that series before I was shutout by the narrative’s pervasive sense of hopelessness, which others might simply call gritty realism. Yet I find when I learn to dread what will happen next to my favorite characters, I learn to stop picking up the novel. I fear Mage's Blood, in its final hundred pages, taught me the same lesson. It’s a well written debut that will no doubt have its share of fans, but I won’t be picking up the rest of the series.


Reluctant Spy By Victory Crayne

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Full disclosure here, I have known Victory Crayne for a number of years as a professional editor, a ghost writer, and a skilled fiction writer in her own right.


Reluctant Spy didn't disappoint. Jake Dani is a private investigator on a backwards colonial world called Rossa. The only thing notable about Rossa is that the serum for Crissa, a major epidemic back on Earth, is made on the southern continent. However, the planet's anonymity may now be shattered since the Prime Minister's wife was murdered, and the PM's own son arrested for it.

Jake, down on his luck and estranged from his overbearing father, gets called by the PM to clear his son. This could be Jake's big break, something he desperately needs, since his daughter is infected with Crissa.


As in all good suspense thrillers, things quickly get complicated. Jake's cousin Ron gets in a jam, and reveals he has been recruited as a spy for the Binger Intelligence Service (BIS), a group representing genetically modified humans. Jake himself has modified DNA, something he strives to conceal. His father always warned him to stay away from the BIS; several family members have been killed in their employ. The suspect in the murder, Ranute Fallow, leads a civil rights group protesting the exploitation of native species known as the napes. And, of course, the napes have some sort of involvement in the serum manufacture for Crissa.


All clues point to Orion, the pharmaceutical company, and their operation on the frontier "wild west" continent of Suda.


It quickly becomes clear that Ranute did not kill his stepmother (the PM's wife), and whoever did does not want Jake and Ron to discover the truth. We begin following the hired gun Carlos as he draws Jake and Ron into a trap.


The beginning of Reluctant Spy is dynamite: characterization, suspense, mystery...all of it. The pacing is great. As with many books, the middle is less engaging, and the end never quite regained the explosive power of the beginning. Not to say I was disappointed, but my expectations had been set very high. It is written in straight-forward prose, which worked beautifully with the subject matter. My one complaint with the book is that it never created a "sense of wonder," one of the great enjoyments of the genre. The simple prose contributed in some way to this. You won't find elegant paragraphs of "flora and fauna," as one of my friends disparagingly refers to Lord of the Rings. In addition, the spy thriller action is very much rooted in present day, with the science fiction elements accoutrements rather than critical. Except, of course, for the central mystery of Orion, Crissa, and the napes.


People who enjoy science fiction, suspense, and mystery-thrillers will enjoy this. Those readers looking to be transported to another world for a "sense of wonder" will have to look elsewhere.

Red Spy, Blue Moon By Bruce Golden

Reviewed by Darlene Santori

The idea of ancient aliens visiting Earth is a well-worn one in science fiction, but it's only the springboard for an innovative twist in Bruce Golden's newest novel, Red Sky, Blue Moon, which is not about ancient aliens or Earth. Instead it's about the various humans culled from Earth long ago by an alien intelligence and transplanted to another world. It's about how their cultures/societies developed along both different and similar paths than their forbears on Earth. This is a milieu novel heavy on characterization.


If you have any interest the Viking culture of the 11th century, or the Native American Sioux culture of centuries later, you'll want to make it a point to find a copy of this book.  More than a millennium after they were abducted from Earth, the Vikings have evolved into a cruel and fiercely competitive corporate culture of racial purists, retaining some of their traditions, but progressing to a more industrial society.  Within that society are the wealthy barons of industry called the Aesir. The lower class, the "less pure" workers, are the Vanir.  The Vanir's struggle for a better life is one facet of this story, as is the clash between various houses of the Aesir to control the "corporatocracy."


Meanwhile, the tribal "savages," who've been on this alien planet for only a handful of centuries, have changed little. They've been transported to another continent, which is only now beginning to be colonized by the Aesir. The racial purists of the corporatocracy covet the potential wealth of the lands populated by the "horse men," whom they regard as no better than animals. A discovery heightens their interest in these new lands when it is determined an anti-aging element and a cure-all for a disease that affects great numbers of their population that might be found there.


Golden not only provides a richly detailed look at these opposing civilizations, he juxtaposes their differences by revealing their similarities. But his book isn't just about splendid world-building. Like Golden's other books, Red Sky, Blue Moon is, at its heart, a character story.  And there are a lot of them, though the focus lands squarely on two particular protagonists--one from each society.


Tordan is a skaldor (known as warrior/poets) employed by one of the wealthiest Aesir houses. He is Vanir, but was taken from his family as a child to be trained for war. Despite his prowess in battle, he's a bit of a rake and a trouble-maker. His counterpart among the savages has been captured by the Aesir, and wants nothing more than to return to his family--his people. Their evolving relationship is at the heart of this story. 


With thematic echoes of Dune, Dances with Wolves, and The Last Samurai, Red Sky, Blue Moon is an epic tale of adventure and arrogance, discovery and desire, courage and greed. If you're familiar with those works of fiction, then you'll understand that, at its heart, this book is about a stranger in a strange land--or more correctly--strangers, as there are separate role reversals.


Golden also uses the technique of excerpts from the journal of one of the aliens who brought the humans here before some chapters, to reveal their story, and what, ultimately happened to them. It seems their great "speciation" experiment backfired.


If there's a shortfall to this book, it's that the plot is not groundbreaking (but then how many are these days?). What sets this book apart are little things, the attention to detail, the rich layers of world building, the realistic characters. Of course, keeping track of who's who could be a problem if you're not a diligent reader--if it takes you months to finish a book. But if this story grabs you at all, you should find yourself whisked through Golden's quick-moving, pithy chapters all the way to the end.


More by Bruce Golden:

Monster Town

Evergreen

Spellcrossed By Barabara Ashford

Reviewed by Donna Glee Williams

When I was in junior high school, I was a mad passionate Trekkie. My measly allowance hemorrhaged to pay for the paperback Star Trek novels that I lived on, back in those Paleolithic pre-Netflicking times when TV series came with a whole week between episodes.


I remember reading one of those “the Captain gets duplicated” stories that included some fabulously intricate world-building around the notion that things that are mirror-images are not the same. Like, if your image were to step out of your bathroom mirror into three-dimensional space, it would be like you, but opposite—left-handed, so to speak, to your right, heart on the wrong side, brain all backward. In this transporter-goes-haywire book, that was true right down to the molecular level: Organic compounds had a sort of handedness, too, which had all kinds of implications for the plot. (How did they come up with this stuff?) They even gave it an extra blush of realism by distinguishing the two forms of molecules with by scientific-sounding l- and d- prefixes, l- for levo and d- for dextro. Cool, huh?


It wasn’t until my ill-fated rendezvous with organic chemistry in college that I learned that I’d absorbed the basics of stereochemistry back in seventh grade, thinking it was science fiction. That cheap little Star Trek paperback had given me a double bang for my buck; I got to go where no me had gone before, not once, but twice, visiting not just the fictional world of the United Federation of Planets but also the factual (but weird) world of chirality and enantiomers.


Barbara Ashford’s new Spellcrossed gave me that same kind of double-dipping pleasure. In this sequel to her well-received Spellcast, not only did I get to visit her fictional world where the Fae sojourn in this reality and humans wander lost in the Borderlands, but also to set foot behind the curtains that veil the real world of summer stock theater, as elaborate and weird in its own way as stereochemistry. Escorting me all the way was a cheerful, competent, observant author whose presentation of life in community theater is solidly grounded on personal experience. One of the pleasures of this book is learning about the details of directing, the jargon of the stage, and the almost-mystical power of theater. Of course, in a fantasy, the almost-mystical can easily be kicked up to mystical with no trouble at all, with wise faery casting ensuring that each actor gets the role they need to help them heal their wounds and psychic faery powers smoothing out the rough edges and nudging the conflicts along towards a happy ending.


The conflicts and suspense in this book happen mostly on the inner landscape: Will things work out between artistic director Maggie and her returned-from-the-lost faery lover? Will Maggie’s father be able to re-adapt to living in ordinary reality after his passage through the Borderlands? Will Maggie’s mother be able to forgive and find happiness after being abandoned by her husband? Will Maggie herself be able to make some kind of peace with the father who left her for the magical allure of Faery? And will her father stay or go? The author’s exploration of the painful desertions by a parent that follows the siren song of “magic” resonates with the experience of real-world children whose parents are seduced by real-world addictions to substances, obsessions, or the high side of mood disorders. Maggie is a full-bodied, thirty-something protagonist; her emotional and erotic adventures take place in the context of a busy, complex, creative life filled with friends, family, cooking, and clothes.


Readers who have read and enjoyed Spellcast are pretty much doomed; they will have to buy this book to learn the fates of Maggie and Rowan and their theater. Readers new to Barbara Ashford who know they enjoy light paranormal romance spiced with comedy and who don’t need flashy action every few pages—Don’t buy this book. Instead, ask for Spellcast for Christmas so that you can take a running leap into Spellcrossed and double your pleasure in every way. (And be on the lookout for a sequel.)

Urban Green Man By Adria Laycraft & Janice Blaine

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Themed short story collections have made quite a comeback in recent years, from steampunk to premonition to weird western, there is a flavor for every palette. And contrary to a few years ago when the pundits predicted the death of the short form, these anthologies seem to be selling reasonably well. As a short story writer, I am thrilled with this development. Two of the most popular genres in recent years has been Urban Fantasy and Dark Fantasy. If you are a fan of either of these, Urban Green Man should be high on your wish list.


With an introduction by urban fantasy superstar Charles de Lint, Urban Green Man comprises thirty one stories and poems from both top and up-and-coming writers of speculative fiction. For this review I'm not going to delve into every story, but here is a sampler:


In "Evergreen" by Susan J. MacGregor, a woman sits at a crossroads in her life between job and law school, uncertain and vulnerable. An ill-conceived fling with a nature spirit leaves her trapped as a cedar woman where she and her tarot-reading grandmother must fight tree-cutters for her very life.


Two lab-coat wearing researchers, static in their existence, get invaded by foliage from the attic above in "Sap and Blood" by Martin Rose. One has the courage to explore upstairs. The other follows...and discovers a primordial, dangerous world that threatens to trap him forever.


A six-year-old girl befriends an "imaginary" friend in "The Green Square" by DVSDuncan. Her father plans to tame the overgrown garden of the abandoned house he purchased, if only he can find his daughter...


Many of the stories feature people being driven into the tree-world, often with frightening consequences. Nature is depicted as a good but wild, frightening entity, one men and women best beware. Many stories suggest nature is fighting back against mankind's invasion. "The Grey Man" by Randy McCharles,  pits a green woman (symbolizing nature) against a grey man (symbolizing urbanization) in a duel to the death. Other stories seethe with a sensual undercurrent, as in the flash story "The Gift" by Susan Forest, a tale of honky-tonk dancing, alcohol and passion. 


Urban Green Man has a very nice mix of adventure-type stories and dark fantasy/romance. One of the highlights for me was the detective story "Cui Bono" by Nebula award winner Eric James Stone. A mysterious couple of shady origins offers the hero $500 an hour to find their missing great-great-grandfather, the Green Man. I was also excited to find a story by New Myths assistant editor Nu Yang called "The Ring of Life", about a family whose destiny is tied to a tree and its spirit.


About the only negative I found was in the introduction itself. Urban fantasy legend Charles de Lint draws the connection between the modern green man legends and paganism. He quotes someone called the West Yorkshire Pagan John saying that the green man is the masculine side of the divine, and goes on to encourage acolytes to develop their own rite and rituals. "Nobody knows what the Druids actually did. They died out long ago and...in the end, you have to make it up. Though perhaps a better way to state that is you have to follow your heart." I should be grateful for de Lint's honesty. Some of the green movement had indeed slipped from scientific argument to made-up religion, eschewing fact for faith, and it's refreshing that someone in their midst actually admits that. But in reading a collection of short stories I prefer to enjoy the ride without being evangelized. Fortunately, the stories themselves draw the line somewhere between pure fun and fun with a message. I was entranced.


Also by Adria Laycraft: Jumpship Hope

The Haunted Housewives of Allister, Alabama By Susan Abel Sullivan

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

It all starts when Cleopatra and Bertram Tidwell acquire a velvet painting of Elvis Presley from Bertram's mother. The painting is purported to be haunted, and all manner of kooks and Elvis fanatics begin visiting the Tidwell house in the hopes of borrowing, buying or stealing the kitsch decor. Cleo would just as soon be rid of it, but Bertram develops an unnatural attraction to the painting...and the painting develops an attraction to him...and this attraction begins to take on sinister import. 


The painting refuses to be covered. It refuses to be moved. It seems to be transforming Bertram into an Elvis impersonator. Or maybe, just maybe, into the King himself. Unless, of course, Bertram is simply having a midlife crisis. Or trying to drive Cleo mad. The fruity members of the Church of the Blue Suede Shoes, random psychics, art collectors and spook kooks everywhere add to the whirlwind.


In the first half of the book all the weirdness could be explained away with, well, everyday weirdness. But about halfway through, I won't spoil the fun, but the novel takes on a paranormal sheen and becomes as suspenseful as it has been funny. Cleo is no longer simply fighting for good taste (a struggle that never ends), but she's fighting for life, limb, and her Southern reputation as the loonies begin to show their true, supernatural colors. 


I don't think I've giving away too much by quoting a psychic's vision:

I'm seeing the color blue. It surrounds your husband's essence as well as Aaron Vassals'. And I'm seeing blood. Blood and paint mixed together. And a twin. Your husband has traded places with a twin. You've got to ... oust the twin without destroying the body ... before the mother returns.


I can almost guarantee this is unlike anything you have ever read. You will fall in love with the protagonist, a twice-divorced Alabama girl who is absolutely determined not to breach etiquette a third time via divorce--even if her husband has grown porkchop sideburns and swaggers to the dinner table in white leather to sing karaoke at the drop of a hat. 


Haunted Housewives is a wonderful romp of a ghost story and quite possibly the funniest novel I've read since Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Anthropomorphisms By Bruce Boston

Reviewed by Eileen Wiedbrauk

Each poem in Bruce Boston’s collection Anthropomorphisms begins with a simple premise: what if the world was made up of a certain type of people? Asteroid people, champagne people, star people, gargoyle people, golden people, harvest people, mole people, rat people—the anthropomorphisms go on. As poetry often does, these pieces meander between the realms of the poetic-realism and the speculative without stopping to distinguish between the two.


The kind of poetry I’m used to delights in the elevated if sometimes overly-obscure vocabulary coupled with devastating personal truths—Anthropomorphisms isn’t that kind of poetry. Rather, the language of Bruce Boston’s poetry reads not as cadence-heavy phrasings, but as prosaic sentences seasoned with line breaks. The thoughts track without overmuch work on the reader’s part and build to short bursts of realization, never over-wrought odes.


Boston uses this simple language to interesting effect, sometimes taking us into the unsavory world of imagining life as bugs—“If lice people / were the world / we would cultivate / vast fields of flesh”—then skipping back to consider the world entirely peopled by man’s best friend, “We would bark fiercely at strangers as they / would bark back in return.” Even creating the shiny dystopia of “Golden People.”


In simplicity can lie great wonder. Bruce Boston’s poetry proves this. On one page his work contemplates the lives of "Dream People":


If dream people were the world

we would inhabit a singular

consciousness that would

be pulled through one

inexplicable scenario

after another

like a goat upon a rope.


And then uses that same simplicity of language to break our hearts. In “Puppet People,” Boston writes of lying helpless, waiting to be given voice and motion, but more devastating than that: “Most of the time / we would not dream.”

Silver By Rhiannon Held

Reviewed by Eileen Wiedbrauk

Writers like Patricia Briggs and Kelly Armstrong have taught us that wolf pack politics is a tricky thing—one part subtle machinations and two parts brute force. Rhiannon Held continues in this tradition with her debut novel Silver.


The urban fantasy Silver has a certain grit and intelligence to it which is apparent from the get-go. Someone has performed unspeakable acts of experimentation and torture on an entire pack of werewolves, systematically burning them with silver and injecting it into their veins. The only werewolf to escape is a young woman who’s retreated so far into herself, she can’t recall her own name and adopts the moniker Silver. Andrew Dare, a pack enforcer, tracks Silver down when she crosses his pack’s territory. Andrew expects to have to meet the stray werewolf with violence and threats, instead he meets the half-crazy, rambling, injured Silver, which sets Andrew down the track of finding the person who hurt her and killed her pack. But first he has to find out who Silver really is and where she came from.


The narration switches back and forth between Silver’s and Andrew’s points of view. In Silver’s sections, the rendering of her madness is beautifully poetic. The toxic silver in her veins, or perhaps something else, causes her to see and hold long conversations with a wolf-shaped manifestation of Death—a sassy character who gets to deliver some of the best lines in the book. Silver interprets the world around her simply, with an almost fairy tale sort of logic, but her obscured view of the world often lets her see more truth than those who have their wits fully about them.


Andrew’s harsh lens on reality serves as a counterpoint to Silver’s poetic madness. Andrew is all business, action, and contradiction: he’s strong enough to be alpha, but doesn’t want the job; he is part of a pack, but lives outside of it; his history filled with death and violence, yet he shows more compassion than the werewolves around him. And it’s his monstrous reputation that continually stands in the way of his—most werewolves fear Andrew, and some even think he’s the only one capable of torturing and killing an entire pack.


Circumstances eventually turn Andrew into Silver’s unlikely champion, but Andrew’s survival will ultimately depend on whether or not Silver can battle her way back to sanity long enough to be his savior.


The relationship between the roughneck and the damaged-but-tough girl is reminiscent of the dynamic between Korben Dallas and Leeloo in The Fifth Element. Both pairs of characters are ready for a fight, have each other’s backs, yet at times frustrate each other more than anything else.


The storyline sweeps from one side of the continent to the other. We get a limited grounding on the east coast, but get to experience a lot of the scenery and details of the northern, Pacific west. The cast of characters seems overlarge at times but is doubtlessly in place as set up for further Andrew/Silver adventures.


Silver is the kind of novel that makes me wish the entire series was out right now, as I’d gladly devour Andrew and Silver’s entire journey one after another.

Mongoliad, Book II By Neil Stephenson, Greg Bear, Mark Teppo, Erik Bear, Joseph Brassey, E. D. deBirmingham, and Cooper Moo

Reviewed by Michael Potts

The first time I visited the western United States was to present a paper at a conference in Boulder, Colorado. On the van drive from the Denver airport to the hotel in Boulder, I was amazed at how a plateau stretched for miles before ending at faraway mountains. The expansiveness of the West compared to the East was an awe-filled experience.

If any word can be used to describe Book Two of the series, The Mongoliad (read our review of Book One here), it would be “expansive.” First, the story is geographically expansive, with settings ranging from Rome to Eastern Europe to the steppes of Russia to the edges of China. As scenes shift from place to place the reader gets a sense of the scope of the largest land empire in history, The Mongol Empire. Although the series is alternate history, it presents a sense of being “in” the world of the Mongol invasions of Europe that is more vivid than reading an actual historical account.

Second, the book is expansive in the number of named characters—there are fifty-seven who are listed with short descriptions in a helpful “Cast of Characters” at the beginning of the book. The reader is lost in a grand adventure full of political intrigue and murder (in Rome as the Cardinals select a new Pope), a Mongol Khagan (emperor)  with a drinking problem and his faithful advisor who tries to keep the emperor’s love for liquor under control, a Chinese slave attempting to escape Mongol captivity, and a nifty fight scene near the end of the volume. The Shield-Brethren remain key characters, but the reader discovers a dint in their armor as one thoughtless slip-up leads to tragedy.

The descriptions the authors use are vivid, and one can picture the grand steppes of Asia, the glint of full-armored knights in sunlight, and the action of individual combat. A description of the body of a strangled man pulls no punches, describing the stench of recent death in vivid, stomach-churning detail.

Although the book is an enjoyable read overall, it does have one major weakness. I realize the story is epic in proportion, but the sheer number of characters at times slowed down the pace of the story, even with frequent scene shifts. The amount of time it takes to develop characters to the point that the reader cares about them causes the story to drag, especially until the last third of the book when the pace picks up. Even so, minor characters seem sketchy—the major characters, such as the Shield-Brethren, seem real, and the relationship between Ögedei Khan and his advisor, Yelu Chucai, is poignant and allows the reader to develop sympathy for both characters. Still, so much is going on that this reader tends to get mired in the detail.

A major strength of the book is that the reader gains sympathy for both the Christians and the Mongols in a war that, to a great degree, is religiously motivated. No group is presented in an idealized way. Christian knights have their own conflict between the Shield-Brethren and the Livonian Order, which only hurts Christian Europe in its desire to defeat the Mongol Empire. The sleazy intrigue of the College of Cardinals with its hypocrisy and psychopathic behavior by at least one cardinal is described without denying the sincerity and deep faith of many of the other cardinals. The Mongols are also shown at their best and at their worst. The reader gains a sense both that the Mongols are not as bad as the Christians believe them to be, and that the Christians are not as bad as the Mongols believe them to be. Characters are a mix of good and bad traits, as are people in real life.

To me, one of the most intriguing characters is Father Rodrigo Bendrito. He is carrying an important message to the Pope, but the Pope dies, and Rodrigo is dragged into the meeting of the College of Cardinals, locked up by a Roman senator, where they are to select a new Pope. There, Father Rodrigo is mistaken for a cardinal. All of this is taking place at the same time that Father Rodrigo’s mind is unstable--he believes he is responding to a prophecy from God, and he, like some of the other Christian characters, is subject to visions. His confusion serves to put him and his mission at risk, but it also serves to keep him out of trouble, creating an aura of simple innocence about him. I want to know what happens to him in the next book of this series.

Despite some flaws, The Mongoliad series thus far is a grand achievement--seven authors are successful in creating an epic in which the continuity of the plot is not lost despite the presence of multiple authors’ voices. It presents a world of hard fighting and survival combined with mysticism and visionary characters. I recommend the series to all readers interested in fantasy, history, medieval history, and alternative history.

What Happens in Vegas, Dies in Vegas By Mark Everett Stone

Reviewed by Michael Potts

Some books are like a gourmet meal, in which each serving of food adds to the experience of good tastes. Other books are like tossed salads—tear off a few pieces of head lettuce, slice up a tomato and a cucumber, throw it together, and add ranch dressing. The result is not a culinary masterpiece, but somehow it tastes good. Mark Everett Stone’s What Happens in Vegas, Dies in Vegas is a tossed salad. Literary fiction it is not. The plot has a loose unity, the characters developed but not in depth—you will not be pondering the meaning of the book as you would a Hemingway novel. Stone’s novel is pure entertainment. Mix in elements of comic books, action films, film noir, a ghost who is also a hacker, scary monsters, time travel into the past to meet….Nazis (“I hate these guys!”), a plethora of action and gore, and references ranging from Star Trek to Tolkien to Finnish mythology, and you get a sense of what it is like to read this book.

 

The basic plot is set in what can best be called an alternative earth in the present. “Supernaturals,” who are generally evil and destructive, often invade the earth from their realm, and The Bureau of Supernatural Investigation has been established to fight and to kill the hostile supernaturals that range from ghouls to harpies to vampires to evil gods of mythology. Kal Halaka, a former agent of the Bureau, desires to hunt down and kill Iku-Turso, a demonic sea god from the great work of Finnish mythology, The Kalevala, which had earlier brutally murdered his sister. He is helped in his quest by his Apache sidekick, Canton Alsate, who is not a Tonto-like subservient companion. Rather, he is an equal to Kal who has saved Kal’s life on many occasions. His other companions include two women: “Mouth,” who excels in hand-to-hand combat and Winch, who shares Kal’s thirst for battle. “Ghost” is one of the most interesting characters in the novel, a cross between a traditional ghost and an artificial intelligence who hacks into electronic systems. The initial goal of the group is to find a unique artifact that can kill Iku-Turso.

 

Kal and his companions are sidetracked into a wild adventure in which they are thrown back into the past into the World War II era. A two-way time portal means that Nazis can roam freely between the past and the future—not a good thing for the allies. This world, however, is filled with magic, and the Allies have their good magicians who try to counteract the evil magicians and necromancers of the Nazis. To go into detail into what they find would involve too many spoilers—suffice to say that the reader will be surprised more than once at the plot twists and the characters Kal and his team meet. The book picks up pace as it moves toward the climax, with multiple fight scenes with enough gore (this book is not for young children or for the squeamish) to satisfy a fan of slasher movies. The reading experience was an entertaining, roller-coaster-like ride. One of the chief strengths of the book is the quirky, dark humor throughout—the dialogue is sharp and the comic timing is excellent.

 

What Happens in Vegas is the second book in a series, and the comments/criticisms below should be read in that light. Once I was into the book I was hooked. However, the rapid pace at which the rules of the world are introduced, almost ad hoc, in the first forty pages or so threw me out of the plot several times. This was when the comic book style became too noticeable, as in the 1960s television version of Batman, in which Batman found the right weapon ad hoc at just the right time (“There’s just this one chance—the Bat Shark Repellant”). The introduction of the rules of magic in the world should be less abrupt. The abrupt introduction of the rules of the world also interferes with the suspension of disbelief. Eventually, as the pace of the action picked up, it was easier to ignore this reality and move into the reality of the book. However, this may not be a problem for fans of the paranormal suspense thriller genre.

 

In the end, Stone’s book is a fun read, and I laughed quite a bit at the dark humor. I recommend the book for fans of paranormal thrillers and for fans of fast action suspense in general.

Under Heaven By Guy Gavriel Kay

Reviewed by Robert W. Enstrom

Are you interested in traveling to a China that may have been a thousand years ago? This book gives you the chance to make that journey in the company of a young man named Shen Tai who is in search of an understanding of his own place under Heaven. As a young adult, he first follows his father profession in the army, then, after an unsettling experience with the supernatural, tries the life of a monk. When this proves unsuitable, he studies for the exacting civil service examinations, perhaps to follow his brother's path in life. But events intervene. His father passes away and he must chose a suitable way to spend the two years of mandatory mourning.

 

We join his story at this point in his life, toward the end of the two year mourning period. And it is the unusual means he has chosen to mourn his father that sweeps him up into the greater conflicts of vast China of his birth.


His father, a retired general, had regretted certain aspects of his service, and one of these regrets was for the dead of a battlefield that lies in the uneasy no-man's-land between two warring states. Because of its remote location and the contested nature of the land, the dead of this battlefield lie unburied.

 

As a tribute to his father's memory, Shen Tai spends nearly two years on this forgotten field of battle, caring for the remains of the fallen, regardless of which army they belonged to in life. And it is this act of remembrance and sympathy that brings him great rewards and even greater danger. The rulers of the enemy state notice his activities and they reward him with a gift so valuable that it put his life in danger and brings him to the attention of the powerful in his own country.

 

The book recounts Shen Tai's efforts to stay alive after this sudden gift--a gift of not only monetary value, but of political and military value as well.

 

The China of Shen Tai's struggles is a might have been China--or perhaps one that exists only on the pages of this book. But it is an interesting China, where the supernatural lies not to far beneath the surface. And strangely, it is Shen Tai's acts of sympathy that bring him into contact with this other world. First, when as a military man, he cares for the fate of two unmilked goats--an act that lead him to interrupt a dark ritual. And later, in his care for the unburied dead. Both these acts have unforeseen consequences that shape the future of Shen Tai's life, and the lives of those close to him.

 

If you would like to explore the fate of this one man in the uncharted sea of this far away China, then you'll have to read Under Heaven.

Mongoliad, Book I By Neal Stephenson, Greg Bear, Mark Teppo, E.D. deBirmingham, Erik Bear, Joseph Brassey, Cooper Moo

Reviewed by 

The Mongoliad recalls Steven Pressfield’s Gates of Fire, the must-read account of Sparta’s 300, in both the authenticity of the battle scenes and the realistic, gritty perspectives of the characters, told without a modern sensitivity filter.


The story takes place in the 13th century when the Mongols, capitalizing on solid leadership and their technological advantages of a long range bow and seemingly tireless steppe horses, had created the largest empire the world has ever seen. The great Genghis Khan has died and his heirs rule the three corners of the Earth:  Europe, China, and Russia.


Into this milieu a small band of knights belonging to a military Christian order devise a plan to halt the invasion of Europe by traveling hundreds miles across Mongol territory to assassinate the current khan. Their scout, and hero of The Mongoliad, is a mysterious woman named Cnán who belongs to some sort of old-world religious order. The knights are Christian, although the pagan religions and superstitions are never far away.


The authors take time (without slowing the story down) to educate the reader on ancient fighting styles, and so I also will take a little time to describe the Mongol fighting advantages. Made from several layers of material, Mongol bows easily outdistanced the European version. The Mongols could shoot from horseback, often fleeing before the European knights, and fire from beyond the range of the Europeans, picking off the pursuing forces with impunity. Their horses could cover a hundred miles in a single day. History is full of accounts of Europeans reporting attacks by two different Mongol armies in a single day in different regions, not believing that a single force could travel so far. These two advantages made them the dominant military force in Europe and Asia for hundreds of years. They lacked competence at assailing castles, however, until they conquered China and added Chinese engineers to their war parties. 


The Mongoliad has many strengths. First, it is told from several viewpoints:  knight, scout, Mongol, khan, Chinese tutor in courtroom etiquette, woman and man... Each character views the world from his or her unique viewpoint. From the Mongol point of view, every battle, all resultant carnage is justified. The authors do not pander to modern sensibilities, and succeed remarkably in getting into the heads of people of the day. 


The fighting, particularly the one-on-one fights, are realistic and engaging. I didn’t know what to think seeing so many authors on one book cover. It crossed my mind it must be a collection of short stories. (It is not.) What brings the authors together is their love of western sword fighting and history. As an 7-year (and counting) practitioner of Japanese sword, I appreciated the authenticity behind the fight scenes. The book manages to describe the horrors of war from the perspectives of those who lived in a more brutal age, where starvation was a harvest away, without descending into mind-numbing gore.


For anyone who loved Gates of Fire or band-of-hero adventures, the Mongoliad is highly recommended.

Skylark By Megan Spooner

Reviewed by Michael Potts

Teenagers have enough problems searching for their identity, but imagine a sixteen-year-old girl trying to find her identity in a post-apocalyptic world in which people she trusts continually betray her. This is the fate of Lark Ainsley, the main character in Meagan Spooner’s fine teen fantasy novel, Skylark, whose struggles are described in intimate detail from the first person point of view.


Lark Ainsley lives in a domed city, “The Last City on Earth.” It has an artificial sun and presents the appearance of eternal reality. There is an interesting parallel throughout the book between Lark’s own feeling of separation from reality and the separation from reality of what she originally called home. In a sense, she has always been homeless without realizing it. Her oldest brother, Basil, disappeared years ago while searching looking for power equipment in the war-ruined world outside the city. Lark kept a paper lark he had made for her as a memento. The lark has floated, and Basil tells her, “You weren’t  meant to live in a cage, ‘little bird.’” She does not fit in her city in which people follow their assigned place like clockwork. The Last City on Earth is a Newtonian, mechanistic state, and machine imagery  is used throughout the book.


Lark’s other brother, Caesar, is a Regulator, a law officer who arrests those who fail to follow city laws. Pixies, small robots that flay and have sensors are used to detect law violators. City leaders label punishment, in good Orwellian fashion, as “adjustment.” Lark’s father opposed the Regulatory Board and was adjusted, returning home as a machine-like, emotionless being.


Energy left over after the wars, or the Resource, is called magic, although some of that magic is electricity and other familiar forms of energy. The city “harvests” children when they are old enough, using certain ones, the Renewables, as energy sources for the city. As the story opens, Lark is disappointed that she has not been chosen for Harvest Day—she believes the propaganda that when children who are chosen are “harvested” they then move on to adulthood. Lark sneaks into the school to see if her name is on the list of children to be “harvested”—she is not—but later she violates a rule and is brought to the Institute of Magic and Natural Philosophy to be harvested. She is pleased at first; however, when she arrives at the Institute, a woman with glass filaments in her skin that reached into machinery carrying the Resource away warns Lark and tells her to run. Lark cannot escape, and ends up staying at the Department of Harvest and Reclamation. Here staff attaches her to a machine which Lark believes is harvesting her energy. Gloriette, a ruthless psychopathic administrator, runs the harvesting program and is one of the creepiest characters in the book. She has a purring voice and addresses Lark using bird names such as “Gosling”.


Lark seems to regenerate her power like a Renewable even though Renewables are supposedly extinct. Lark starts to feel empty, a feeling with which she struggles throughout the story. The fact that that city officials lied to her about the true meaning of Harvest Day has turned her world upside down, and she escapes the Institute (despite being betrayed by her brother, Caesar) and the city. She has a vision of being unified with the woman attached to the Institute—when their minds join the woman tells Lark to listen for a bird call that will help lead her to the Iron Wood. Lark hopes to find a renewable like her and to find her brother Basil. The world outside the city is unfamiliar, with the empty expanse of the sky adding to her feelings of emptiness, loneliness, and fear. Spooner vividly portrays a girl from a (literally) sheltered environment encountering the wide world and reacting to the night sky, her first encounter with wind, and her first encounter with flowers and with bees. A pixie comes after her, but she slaps it down and crushes it  It repairs itself, but Lark is in control now, and the pixie develops an individual personality and consciousness as it travels with Lark, who gives the pixie a name: Nix. Another companion through part of Lark’s journey is a feral boy, Oren, who imitates bird calls—Lark knows then that he will lead her to the Iron Woods. Lark’s relationship with Oren is stormy, but he guides her in a dangerous journey, avoiding hostile animals and feral, cannibalistic humans who have evolved into monsters.


Once Lark reaches the Iron Woods, her world—and the reader’s world—is turned upside down.  Lark meets a girl named Tansy, who leads Lark to a place that will change her entire view of the world and of the people in it. Lark grows, not only in knowledge, but in maturity and in her self-identity. Multiple betrayals from those she trusts and deliverance by those she does not trust help her to become a better judge of individuals and better able to survive in a tight spot. After an ultimate betrayal by someone she had trusted, Lark must decide whether to stay to defend the people she loves or to flee. Her new knowledge and the betrayals she has suffered has shattered what self-confidence she had. Although she feels inadequate, she must choose. She makes a decision which will affect those she loves, her view of her own abilities, and her decision regarding the future course of her life. Lark will either discover her identity or be lost in emptiness. The climax reveals the results, but the denouement is open-ended enough to leave room for a sequel. Readers should hope for a future volume so they can continue to explore Lark and her world.

Dancing with Eternity By John Patrick Lowrie

Reviewed by Robert Enstrom

In many ways this book is a travelogue in the best tradition of A.E. van Vogt's Voyage of the Space Beagle.  Except here, most of the aliens creatures encountered are humans--altered by an expansion of the human life span to near infinity.

 

The narrator of the story is Mo, an emergency crew replacement on the Lightdancer. The ship and crew are on a most unusual quest--they are trying to save the life of one of their own. The quest is unusual in that no one dies in this far future, because their essence is stored in a living network so vast that the destruction of a person's body is merely a monetary setback that may require you to work as a slave for 60 years to pay for your recreation. But Alice, because of a quirk in her genetic background, is an exception. She can look forward to only a normal physical lifespan of a hundred years or so.

 

In order to correct this condition, the Lightdancer must travel to the most dangerous place in the human universe:  Brainard's Planet. Here a truly alien race resides--so alien that no successful communication with it has ever been made. These aliens have solved the problem of death in a different way than humans have. While human bodies still die and must be recreated from the net, the creatures of Brainard's Planet never physically die. They live surrounded by curative secretions that so quickly repair damage that it is virtually impossible to kill them. The trouble is, these secretions act as a deadly plague to all life that didn't originate on Brainard's Planet. 

 

The mission of the voyage is to find a cure for Alice that will not destroy the rest of humanity. 

 

Along the way, the author explores human relations in a future without death--or nearly so. In some ways, perhaps unintentionally, the book conveys an almost religious message:  Beliefs and sorrows spring from the past, and hope looks to the future, but only love transcends time.


Dancing With Eternity

by John Patrick Lowrie

Published by Camel Press, 2011

Rejiggering the Thingamajig By Eric James Stone

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Rejiggering the Thingamajig is one of the most entertaining and diverse short story anthologies I have read in a long time. It includes the Nebula award winning story "That Leviathan, Whom Thou Hast Made" and 23 other stories.

The fact that every story appeared elsewhere, and most in prestigious venues, is a good sign that someone besides the author thought they were pretty good. Seven appeared in the oldest and probably widest circulation English language science fiction magazine Analog Science Fiction and Fact, six appeared in Orson Scott Card's Intergalactic Medicine Show, one of the major online magazines, and the rest are from a smattering of different magazines, including two from the Writers of the Future anthology. Stone won this prestigious contest in 2004.

For me the highlights of the collection are the bookends "Rejiggering the Thingamajig" and "That Leviathan, Whom Thou Hast Made". "Rejiggering" is about a genetically engineered tyrannosaurus that has to make a repair to an interplanetary teleportation device, without knowing a thing about it. I laughed out loud several times, noting that each comical situation actually complicated the dinosaur's quest still further. By the end I became convinced it couldn't possibly resolve well.

"That Leviathan" is in a completely different tone, delving into more--and more profound--themes than the average novel trilogy. It takes place within the sun where scientists have discovered plasma life forms, and a Mormon missionary attempts to convince them to accept human-style moral codes of behavior. It raises many questions, and answers enough to be satisfying.

Stone writes with a straightforward style, more reminiscent of Issac Asimov than Ray Bradbury. Appropriately enough, a flash fiction story "The Greatest Science Fiction Story Ever Written" is Stone's tribute to Asimov. If you are looking for a modern collection of Golden Age-style gems, this is a good place to start.

Psyche's Prophecy By Ann Gimpel

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

A while back I read an old book called High Tension about linemen stringing high tension wires on electric railroads. The writer had done the lineman work himself, and every page breathed with the craft. The characters and the dialog were authentic. By the end of the book I was convinced that with a little training I too could string a line.

The author of Psyche's Prophecy has that same sort of mastery, though in this case Ann Gimpel is a psychotherapist, and the lines she pulls are psychological rather than copper. Her heroine, Lara McInnis, is also a psychotherapist. Her client, Bethany Beauchamp, obviously suffers abuse from her psychotic husband Ken. When Lara offers Bethany some friendly advice, possibly stepping across the professional/client bounds, Bethany incurs the wraith of her husband, and that same husband vows vengeance on Lara. Bethany is brutally beaten. Lara's work neighbor is murdered.

The background of Psyche's Prophecy is that society's natural resources are depleted. Electricity is spotty; oil is beginning to run out. The collapse of modern civilization is beginning. The protagonist Lara McInnis has the ability to read psychic auras and struggles to use her sight to see the future. She becomes alarmed as several of her patients report the same cataclysmic dream.

Sound confusing? It actually fits together rather well, though the relationship between Ken and the visions is spotty at best.

The beauty of Gimpel's writing is in the detailed psychological profiles of the characters, each a little beyond what we expect to read, but also clearly correctly drawn. Gimpel knows how to draw characters and settings of richness and depth. Unfortunately, she never turns this off. I don't really need to know every detail of the characters' morning routines...at least not more than once. A little summary would have sped things along.

The problems of Psyche's Prophecy are multiple. Besides the irrelevant detail mentioned earlier, Lara and her boyfriend Trevor never actively prepare for the coming catastrophe. They talk about someday starting a home garden, maybe, so they can live off the grid. As electricity goes out in waves, they drive a little farther to drink their lattes. They complain. They worry.

This laissez faire attitude continues in the conflict with Ken Beauchamp. Ken murders Lara's partner and attempts to kill her, and Lara does nothing. Trevor's reaction is to buy a puppy who will someday grow up enough to provide protection. In the mean time, at least he can bark (the puppy, not Trevor).

The fantasy elements get stronger as the story proceeds, while Celtic and psychological theory intertwine in an interesting way. Lara discovers that some sort of magic being has infiltrated the Jung Institute in Switzerland where she studied many years before. In order to confront him, Lara finds a witch to train her psychic powers. Or should I say that a witch finds her... Once again, Lara doesn't take any actions herself.

Psyche's Prophecy is the first of a trilogy. I'd recommend it to anyone with a strong interest in Jungian psychology or in the relationship between psychology and folklore. If you like action-oriented protagonists and a fast pace, this probably isn't the right choice.

City of Dragons By Robin Hobb

Reviewed by Adria Laycraft

If you love dragons, then Robin Hobb's Rain Wilds Chronicles will delight you. Starting with Dragon Keepers (2009) and Dragon Haven (2010), the latest book City of Dragons surprised everyone by not completing the tale. After three sets of three in the same world (Farseer, Tawney Man, and Liveship Traders) the Rain Wilds Chronicles will end with a fourth book, Blood of Dragons, due in May of 2013.


This is the world where we first met the Fool, the Bingtown Traders, the liveships, and Tintaglia. Because Tintaglia is the only known living dragon, the hatching of the dragon cocoons found in Trehaug brings great excitement. Unfortunately, these dragons are deformed and flightless, marred by the delayed birth and lack of proper care they would normally receive from the fabled Keepers from ancient times.


A group of young unwanted teens are charged with bringing these dragons upriver before they destroy the hunting around Trehaug. Despite being set up to fail and facing uncounted challenges, these new Keepers discover Kelsingra, the ancient city of dragons and Elderlings. Each teen also undergoes changes brought on by the dragons, which some of them think will make them true Elderlings.


We come to know many delightful characters along the way, most especially the adults that accompany the Keepers. Alise is a rebellious collector of ancient scrolls and knowledge, and has left her abusive husband to explore the Rain Wilds. She falls for Leftrin, the gruff captain of the sentient dragonwood barge called Tarman. Alise is desperate to catalogue Kelsingra before the Bingtown Traders arrive.


"I know they'll come," Leftrin agreed. "But they think all they'll face is a band of half-grown kids and some crippled dragons. But when they reach Kelsingra, what they'll get may not be at all what they were expecting."


For those of us who follow her stories, the Rain Wild Chronicles offers a feeling of coming home while still giving the reader a fabulous new cast of memorable characters to enjoy. Hobbs' works are referred to as 'social fantasies'--as opposed to quest fantasy--because her stories evolve out of the characters and their culture while avoiding being formulaic. Hobb gives us romance without predictability, fantasy without a McGuffin, and mystery without crime scene investigations.


While Hobb can sometimes take a bit to settle in to, once the reader is hooked the characters linger in memory for long after. It is a mark of genius when these characters are remembered in random moments as if they were real people.


The fresh take on dragons in general is much appreciated, and the effect they have on their 'bonded mates' is truly innovative. Bonding with a dragon is no new idea but Hobb has the Keepers slowly morph the longer they are with their dragons, gaining colored scales, frills, claws, and sometimes even wings.


What's really intriguing is that the changes are different for each character, and these changes resemble what happens to all Rain Wilds people. Hobb uses this opportunity to explore themes of bigotry, intolerance, and prejudice. She also tackles tough topics such as abusive relationships, reproduction laws, and the disposing of 'mutant' children. She does it all without flinching from the truth of how people justify what they feel must be done...or how they disregard such laws in the name of love.


Interwoven are the larger world politics, including the ongoing tale of Tintaglia and her mate Icefyre as they hunt and fly and make their way back to the Rain Wilds where much has changed in their absence. There is no telling what role they will play in the final book, and that mystery is delicious.

The conflicts look ready to converge on Kelsingra for the promise of a fine resolution in Blood of Dragons, due in May of 2013. There are so many mysteries still to be solved--the city's magical ways, the way it seems to be waking up, the influx of treasure seekers, and how far the dragons and their Keepers will go to protect it all. Perhaps those who haven't had the pleasure of reading Robin Hobb can catch up while the rest of us impatiently wait for the final book of this series.

Pharmacology By Christopher Herz

Reviewed by Michael Potts

What if America’s “therapeutic culture” were an invention of drug companies and doctors motivated by greed? Suppose these companies and doctors had broadened the definition of “depression” in order to sell new antidepressant medications, despite knowing about serious health risks, and had invented “ADHD” so they could develop a drug to treat the symptoms of an imaginary disease. Christopher Herz’s Pharmacology is a book that explores these possibilities in an alternate San Francisco in 1993.


Pharmacology creeps toward the main plot which begins about halfway through. This did not bother me because Herz is careful to develop his characters in detail in order to help the reader “suspend disbelief.” His world is close enough to this world to recognize, yet different enough to justify calling this novel “speculative fiction.” The development of a set of odd characters at the margins of society sets up the last half of the book, which flows fast to an unexpected climax.


The main character, Sarah, moves to San Francisco from Kansas City to find herself and make money to send to her father who suffers from cancer. She believes that the antidepressant medication her father had taken caused the cancer. She is young, hip, intelligent, a reader of good books who enjoys both hip hop and jazz. Other than her father, she is the most “normal” character in a book filled with the odd, the unusual, and the grotesque. Sarah’s roommates include two blood-drinking “vampires” (complete with implanted fangs), a “skater punk-whore goat-faced guy,” two junkies, and strippers who serve as masters of an S & M dungeon. Sarah does not find such a living arrangement ideal, and she moves from job to job in an attempt to find another place to stay and to send more money to her father. She works on the side without pay, editing an underground zine, The Luddite. Nothing seems to work out until she meets Alberto, a zealous enemy of pharmaceutical companies. Together they hatch a plan to infiltrate a startup pharma company and report in The Luddite on any unethical activities going on there. 


Sarah gets a job at the company. The atmosphere there is informal--Sarah can dress as she likes, and although each work team has a task, their job consists of thinking up good ideas to complete their assigned task and bouncing those ideas among members of the workgroup. Sarah’s group is assigned to help convince parents that their children, hooked on the new medium of the Internet, have shorter attention spans, and therefore suffer from Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). A coalition of doctors and the drug company have joined together to create (and name) an imaginary disease in order to sell their drug designed to treat the “symptoms” of ADHD.


Sarah is torn between the temptation of the high salary, her romantic interest in Kimberly, a manager of the pharma company, and her moral duty to stay true to her task and expose the conspiracy in The Luddite (an ironic name given the company’s plan to use the newest wave, the Internet, to push its product). I cannot say more about the novel’s plot since that would mean too many spoilers—suffice to say that there are unexpected twists at the end.


Overall Pharmacology is a hip, well-written alternative history novel, a cross between Catcher in the Rye and a Michael Crichton novel. The dialogue is sharp but inconsistent--during the first few pages of the novel Sarah uses such a hip dialect that it was difficult for me to follow her first-person narrative. This problem is made more acute by that dialect appearing in a flashback. Sarah’s hip teen dialect tones down as the novel progresses. Although this could symbolize Sarah’s growing maturity, it would make more sense to start from the beginning of the story and progress in temporal order to the end.


Sarah remains, however, a believable character. The minor characters are grotesque cutouts to some degree, but they add a sense of the oddness and wide-open nature of life in San Francisco, especially in the context of youths who go to extremes because they are searching--but never finding--who they are. While Sarah is not a “goody-goody,” and participates in illegal activities such as selling drugs, she does this out of desperation for money and to keep peace where she lives. She continually comments, sometimes with eloquence, concerning the shallowness of such lifestyles. She wants to do something better, something more important. She also wants to find true love--not something false--and discovers that seeking such love is as difficult as finding the truth in the web of lies inside a pharmaceutical company. Through her rough street smarts shines a caring person who desires to help her father and to help people who, like him, were harmed by pharmaceutical companies.


As an old fogey of fifty, I find the youth culture Pharmacology describes foreign--yet I still enjoyed the read. Once the main plot line was reached I could not put the book down. I highly recommend Pharmacology to anyone interested in contemporary youth during a breakthrough period when the Internet exploded to a dominant place in American and in world culture. Fans of alternative histories involving conspiracy theories would also enjoy Pharmacology.

Mayan December By Brenda Cooper

Reviewed by Adria Laycraft

Archeoastronomer Dr. Alice Cameron and her tween daughter Nixie are on-site in Mexico for the grand event of December 2012. And while Alice must tend to the demands of her work, Nixie begins an adventure that will lead her mother--and many more Very Important People--to see their world from a whole new perspective.


Mayan December is an excellent portrayal of both modern and ancient Mayan culture. Written by award-winning author Brenda Cooper and published by Prime Books, this is a delightful look at the end-of-the-world myth and what it might mean for those in the past and in our current times. It is also a wonderful depiction of the mother-daughter relationship at a time when the child's independence is straining the bonds of maternal protection. And while it might take a few chapters to become fully absorbed, the wait is well worth it.


Cooper definitely did her homework on this one, with accurate descriptions of modern-day Yucatán resorts and ancient ruins, and dead-on portrayals of customs, beliefs, clothing, and Mayan cities of the past. Xcaret, Tulum, Cancún, and Chichén Itzá are all described in perfect detail, a true delight for the reader who has been there and a vicarious vacation for those who have not.


I especially enjoyed the current-day Mayan characters. They are believable, accurate, and loveable, just as the rest of the cast is. The reader is able to understand the relationships and motivations of each character, especially the one between widowed mother and pre-teen daughter. It didn't take long to really care about all the people involved and wonder where (or when) their adventure would take them.


The climactic ending, I feel, tried to do too much all in one go, with world politics, scientific discovery, and mysticism all overriding the individual characters' story arcs. I wondered which ending meant the most to the author, and wished she had focused on the more personal, with maybe only one big picture plot intruding. In fact, the idea of some 'code' falling from the sky awaiting translation from math geeks the world over didn't seem a relevant part of the story at all, and ended up with a sense of being tagged on without any set-up of the idea earlier on in the story.


Despite this small nitpick, I enjoyed the high adventure and honest danger all the characters faced as the boundaries between their timelines grew thin, and I did find the conclusion satisfying. I believe this is because all the characters are well drawn, eminently likeable, and quite believable. For anyone interested in the Maya and their homeland, especially younger readers in their teens, this is a must read.

The Realms Thereunder By Ross Lawhead

Reviewed by Adria Laycraft

This is a classic faerie tale slash quest adventure slash urban fantasy, with all the history, strange creatures, and puzzles for the heroes that a reader could ask for. The story is told from the viewpoint of two normal pre-teens who go wandering through a magical doorway in the back of an old church, woven together with their later story as young adults struggling with the memories of those unlikely experiences. Daniel becomes a homeless vigilante fighting the evil that leaks through from the underworld, and Freya is doing a bad job of putting her past behind her. My favorite scene is Freya telling off an Oxford professor for his prejudiced view of ancient England that she knows for a fact is wrong.


In each timeline they are pulled into various nether underworlds that play with their minds and beliefs, forcing them to face their role in the events affecting not only their world, but all worlds. This first novel by Ross Lawhead does a wonderful job of exploring all the strange tales and mythologies that have survived the ages in the British Isles.


The juxtaposition of before and now is well done because each timeline reflects the other, yet tells its own crucial part of the story. This back and forth is essential for understanding why certain decisions are made and certain actions taken. With lush description and adventure-filled action scenes, the story pulls the reader along nicely. And while some of the fantasy elements felt a little tired, the few new tricks were worth the read. At one point in the story the young woman is kept in a state of unawareness, with a whole life passing by that is only apparent to her in the moments she can grasp consciousness. The reader is left watching helplessly, wanting to shout at her as she accepts the strange hallucinations of being a married woman, then pregnant, and finally growing old. This is done in a delightfully creepy way, easing the reader into the strangeness so that at first only little tinges of wrongness come through. It builds to a point of lovely tension. 


Unfortunately, at the same time this is happening, the man is learning to be a charcoal maker in faerie, and it drags on in a rather quiet and restful way that destroys the tension we feel from the other point-of-view. It left me wondering why he calmly accepted all the delays instead of working to get back sooner. And while all this is taking place, we pop back in time to the adventure they had as kids, and the story drags a bit. 


In the end we are left with a surprise decision by the girl that seems too far out of character for her, despite the attempts to set it up. This left me with little satisfaction at the ending, and less interest in finding out what happens in the next book. While the cover does admit the book is the beginning of a trilogy, I'd hoped for just a little more closure at the end of this first part, or at least less of a sense of betrayal from our heroine. 


Available in bookstores and online, The Realms Thereunder is eminently readable, despite my nick-picks, and will be a success with anyone who enjoys urban fantasy and old mythology brought together by a great adventure tale. 

Tesseracts Fifteen By Julie Czerneda & Susan MacGregor

Reviewed by Michael Potts


Young people would have an incredible opportunity if an anthology of short stories stimulated their imaginations, drew them into the characters—and contained stories of high literary quality. Fortunately, Julie Czerneda and Susan MacGregor have edited such a volume, Tesseracts Fifteen. If the other volumes in this series of speculative young adult fiction (interspersed with poetry) by Canadian writers are as splendid as this volume, fans of speculative fiction of all ages will be treated to a garden of fantasy fruit well worth savoring.

 

The real strength of Tesseracts Fifteen is not only in the imaginative and unique twists on standard fantasy and science fiction themes, but the struggles with self-acceptance, insecurity, and the physical and emotional changes and volatility children growing into adulthood face. The alienation of the adolescent body from the self is explored in the first story by E. L. Chen, “A Safety of Crowds.” Ostensibly the story concerns a teenage girl, Jenna Crow, who has wings. The underlying theme concerns the sense that many teenagers have of their new, post-puberty body being something alien, with their relation to that body seeming like another separate self, a self that refuses to accept its identity with either the child’s mind or the growing adult body.

 

The stories show through the vividness of character and plot such themes as:

 

Some stories deal with very adult issues children often face when they are too young to face them. Mike Rimar’s “My Name is Tommy,” focuses on a spaceship on which a boy, Tommy, lives with his mother, the ship’s captain. His mother violated ship’s rules by allowing a “defective” child to be born rather than aborting him—one character makes the chilling statement, “Other times, we have to take steps to weed out aspects that might be seen as unfruitful to society.” But there may be more to Tommy than his critics realize.

 

Another striking story is Lynne M. MacLean’s “The Illumination of Cypher-Space,” which concerns a girl on the streets, owned by a pimp, beaten by thugs, threatened by gang members. She discovers a way to survive—but can she wholly escape her past?

 

Another fascinating story is “The Memory Junkies.” If there was a world in which a machine could allow people to relive their memories over and over—but at a price—would it be worth trying? Ray Bradbury would appreciate the direction this story takes.

 

These are not all the stories, but all the stories have excellent characterization and plotting. The poems are strong poems, with “You Always Knew” by Michelle Barker being my favorite—it has a unique twist on how Death appears—and he is not a hooded skeleton holding a scythe.

 

Although Tesseracts Fifteen is technically “young adult fiction,” it would also appeal to older children (above age ten) and to adults of all ages. It is a top-notch anthology, and I am hopeful that Czerneda and MacGregor will continue editing volumes in this series.

Rook (Allie's War, Book I) By JC Andrijeski

Reviewed by Eileen Wiedbrauk

While reading Rook, the first book of the series Allie’s War, I found myself thinking a great deal about acceptance and forgiveness. Certainly Allie, the twenty-eight year-old protagonist, and Revik, one of the many alternate narrators, must come accept who and what they are and learn to forgive each other. But I also contemplated the point at which, as a reader, I can forgive a novel’s stylistic oddities and accept it for delivering an awesome story.


Rook opens slowly. The prologue enters us into the story with a description of the fallout from a bar fight that never really becomes important. Next we wander through San Francisco with Allie as she attends a minimum wage job, moans about how her life is going nowhere, discusses the most recent of her many stalkers, and feeds us information about the social and technological differences between our world and the alternate-history of the world she lives in. The milieu of Rook is one where psychic beings known as seers are second-class citizens at best, and at worst, slaves. The novel doesn’t begin to pick up until page 45 when Allie gets kidnapped. Turns out, she’s not human like she thought she was. She’s a seer, but not just any seer. She’s one of the prophesied Four who periodically return to earth and usher in the next apocalypse—it’s a bit much for an underemployed waitress to take in all at once.


This was the revelation I’d been waiting for Allie to finally have.  The one I thought would propel me forward into the narrative. Yet I continued to be thrown out of the story by some of the writing techniques. Between one scene and the next, Andrijeski alternates between myriad points of view. Some scenes come from Allie’s first person narration, others Revik’s third person narration, sundry minor characters get their five pages of narration only to never be heard from again, then there’s the occasional omniscient passage, and once or twice the pastiche morphs to include passages from fictional historical and holy texts. The effect, in sum, was jarring.


Also the early passages explaining the Barrier (the ethereal other plane of consciousness which only seers can enter) are dense, poetic ventures where verb tense shifts and not much meaning is made. Once we get past the initial passages about light, color, and the insubstantiality of time, the description of the Barrier evolves to have a practical application in the story. Once I could understand how it was used, the concept was more familiar than foreign. Perhaps because I’d already been primed by films like Inception and The Matrix to grasp the notion of a secondary world which exists only in the minds of those who perceive it. But Rook has something else in common with those films: it delivers on action.


Just shy of 100 pages into the almost 400 page work, my relationship with the novel drastically changed for the better.


Allie’s musing about light and color morphed into a shoot-em-up car chase, and it was like I’d changed the channel and found myself in the middle of a sci-fi thriller. The psychic talents of a seer finally had uses—like shooting bad guys. Not only that, but now that Allie had at last taken action and chosen a side, there were finally bad guys to be shot. Among other things, this is a book that knows its guns. 


Andrijeski delivers a whopper of an action flick over the next three hundred pages—high speed car chases, kidnappings, mad scientists reanimating the dead, pyrotechnics the size of an ocean liner, even a stint in a whore house followed by trekking cross country on a motorcycle. 


The novel has all the storytelling elements that make a great story.  It has action, certainly, but also engages the characters in a really interesting way which forces them to negotiate their past scarring with their more immediate emotional needs, not to mention that the whole narrative revolves around a larger-than-life struggle between good people and the injustices of the world. I became so enthralled with the story that I found myself forgiving the slow opening and all of the writer’s stylistic oddities because all I wanted was to find out what happened next.


While the novel has some of the elements prevalent in paranormal romance—including a seer-only mating ritual and the ability to make Stockholm syndrome sexy—it doesn’t have the kind of build and sequencing of the romantic relationship which dominates that genre. It’s also much darker and grittier than the majority of commercial paranormal romance on the market now. The easy interweaving of tropes often found in urban fantasy novels about fey with those tropes of near-future science fiction creates a distinct flavor that is not easily categorized. Perhaps it would be best to say this is an action novel for those who enjoy paranormal romance.  Or this is a near-future science-fantasy with romantic themes. Whatever it’s called, it sucked me in and sent me scampering off to get the second book the moment I was done reading.

Nightfall By Stephen Leather

Reviewed by Nu Yang

“You're going to hell, Jack Nightingale.” 


From there, the reader begins the story of police negotiator turned private investigator Jack Nightingale. Author Stephen Leather is already an accomplished UK thriller writer, but his Jack Nightingale series makes it US debut this spring with Nightfall.


I'm a big fan of supernatural noir (Jim Butcher, Charlie Huston, etc.), so I was interested in reading Nightfall for New Myths. I do admit I've been kind of wary of new urban fantasy books because the genre is so popular these days. What was Leather going to bring to the table that would make it stand out among the many other titles and authors? Well, he proved to me that he did have something new and refreshing to bring to the genre.


Warning, there are book spoilers. 


I was pulled in immediately from chapter one when Jack is called to a scene to prevent a jumper from leaping off a balcony. The jumper is a nine-year-old girl. What a great hook. Leather puts his protagonist in a tense situation and as a reader, I appreciated that we got some character insight right away. We find out how Jack works in his profession and how he tries to stop the girl from jumping to her death. Unfortunately, the girl does jump, and the book leaps forward (no pun intended) two years later to show that Jack is now a private investigator. 


Over the course of the story, Jack finds out his biological father has killed himself and he inherits a mansion with a priceless library filled with books on Satanism. It shocks him because he didn't even know he was adopted. It starts him on a journey to find out who he is. It also leads him to find out his father had sold his own son's soul to a devil, who will come to collect in a few weeks on Jack's thirty-third birthday. 


Even though Jack dismisses the claim, it soon becomes apparent something dark is at work. People around him start dying gruesome deaths. At times, it was frustrating because just as Jack is going to find answers, Leather kills off the source. I understand it makes it more difficult for Jack, but as a reader, I also wanted to see the story move forward. 


As the story progresses, Jack also finds his biological mother, who is committed in a mental institution. He also learns he has a sister, who also had her soul sold by their father. When I was reading, I began to suspect that maybe Jack was the killer (maybe in a possessed state, where he wasn't aware of his actions).  I was wrong, but I was pleased to see Jack address this same concern in the book. 


The story's climax is great because it brings into play Jack's skills as a negotiator as he frees himself from the devil's pact on his soul. I won't give too much away, but the story's ending leads perfectly to the second book in the series (I believe it will be a trilogy) with Jack's search for her sister. 


I enjoyed the book overall because Jack was an interesting main character. I liked how he interacted with people especially his receptionist/possible love interest, Jenny. I want to see how their relationship progresses in the future. 


Although I would categorize the book as a supernatural thriller, it didn't fall into the familiar traps of the genre. When other books may rely on vampires and zombies, Leather used Satanism as his dark force. It's something that could actually happen in today's world. I also enjoyed this line from the book: “There is no black magic or white magic. There's just magic....it's like electricity...you can use it to power a life-support machine or an electric chair.” It pretty sums up the moral of the story. 


One minor thing: “You're going to hell, Jack Nightingale” is a great tagline, but after hearing people repeat it to him over and over, it started to lose its effect and creepiness. 

Remember Me to Paradise By Amy Benesch

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

This book surprised me on many levels. 'What does it mean to be human?' the alien protagonist asks again and again, and a fascinating portrait is described through his exploits as a duck, a pigeon, a man, a woman, a seal, and myriad other creatures.


That's right, the protagonist is a shapeshifter.


Remember Me to Paradise is a thin book (162 pages) with an unappealing cover from a publisher I'd never heard of (Wolfsinger), and so my endorsement comes as a surprise. Is this a preview of the publishing revolution's outcome where more experimental works can find an audience? I certainly hope so.


Any book that can make me laugh out loud gets a thumbs up, and one with as many life lessons as Remember Me to Paradise gets two thumbs up. The author had hooked me by page eight. Remember Me to Paradise features one of the most unusual protagonists I've ever run across, a shapeshifter who can shift his form at will, becoming any creature, any gender, any form--even the wind. Shapeshifter (one of many such beings) lives in some nebulous place called Paradise where nothing stays fixed for very long. Bored and childlike, both in maturity and in his need to experience new sensations, Shapeshifter accepts an assignment to travel to Earth for something called the Great Council.


Herein lies one of my two quibbles with the book. The excuse for Shapeshifter to go to Earth feels just like what it is:  an excuse. A researcher named Phylos from the Great Council believes that many shapeshifters have traveled to Earth and have forgotten their true identities. To confirm his hypothesis, he proposes to send Shapeshifter to find the others. He asks Shapeshifter to confide in him his true name so that Phylos can rescue him if he forgets his identity. Shapeshifter accepts.

Neither Phylos nor Shapeshifter has any plan to contact the other shapeshifters, and Shapeshifter gets so caught up in the new sensations Earth can provide that he forgets his assignment almost immediately upon arrival.


Shapeshifter takes several animal forms, but the most fascinating chapters begin when he arrives in New York City, becomes a man and falls in love with a woman named Alexis. Childlike, he cannot resist (or even understand the need to resist) instant gratification with other women, even though he craves Alexis's love.


This gets even better when he decides to become an actor. What better way to discover what it means to be human? The irony of a shapeshifter pretending to be a human working as an actor makes the story even more delicious.


I won't spoil the plot, but let's say that he becomes more human every day and gets the pain and pleasure of experiencing the whole gamut of human emotions, from love to envy to pity to jealousy. Fortunately for him, Shapeshifter meets another alien who convinces him to try life as a woman, and he gets to experience these emotions from a different perspective. The funniest chapter in the book is the paradigm shift from man to woman where Shapeshifter's perspective changes 180 degrees. (As a man he decides to morph into a near perfect woman; when she looks in the mirror as said woman, she instantly notices that her nose is too wide and a half dozen other 'flaws...'.)


I would be remiss not to mention my second quibble with the book. In the final chapters, the shapeshifter becomes rather sex obsessed. Yes, sex and the emotions it engenders drives the plot, but I wish the author had broadened her study of the human condition into other areas. Shapeshifter's exploits are graphically (at times hilariously) described. If this occurred in the beginning of the book I would have put it down. However, by the time the story took this direction the author had me well hooked. 


All in all, despite my two nitpicks Remember Me to Paradise is a great, offbeat read which should please fans of Tim Powers and Julie Ann Weinstein.

Feast: Harvest of Dreams By Merrie Destefano

Reviewed by Nu Yang

It's no surprise that Neil Gaiman is an influence to Destefano's writer protagonist Madeline MacFaddin. In Feast: Harvest of Dreams, the reader is introduced to a world of magic, Darklings, and dream harvesting. From the forest setting to the magical creatures, it's clearly something every Gaiman fan may enjoy.


Madeline returns to Ticonderoga Falls in southern California with her nine-year-old son to escape the city, the news of her ex remarrying, and to concentrate on her writing. As a young girl, Madeline used to visit the small village, and one summer, she was saved from a sinister forest creature by Ash--a Darkling--but she has no recollection of it. Along the way, the reader meets more Darklings--some of them aren't as friendly as Ash--as they gather in town for the annual Feast--yup, you guessed it--to eat the dreams of humans. It's an interesting premise because every human dreams. We also meet some of the village folks who are in tune with the magic taking place in their woods. The entire story has a spooky vibe, kind of like a morning fog rolling in on a misty day. It also helped that the climax of the story took place on Halloween.


The book was a fast-read for me. I enjoyed that the female protagonist wasn't your typical urban fantasy lead. She seemed older (although the cover model doesn't appear so) and had a child. I also liked Ash's story with his half-human, half-Darkling daughter, Elspeth. Even though the story was built up to have Madeline and Ash as the main romantic couple, I found myself more interested in Elspeth's relationship with Jake, a human boy. It might also be the fact that I wasn't a fan of Ash's angsty past or his tormented hero act. He loved reminding the reader that he was a “monster.”


One thing I had to get used to was Destefano's decision to write in first-person from each point-of-view character in his/her own chapter. It felt like head-hopping. Most of the chapters were only a few pages long, some only one page, so I never felt really connected to the characters. This resulted in 95 chapters with an epilogue. As a reader, I only stayed with each person for that short amount of time; it almost felt like I was flipping through with a remote. There were seven point-of-view characters in total. Destefano could have benefited from cutting out a few of them, such as the sheriff, who didn't even appear as a POV character until the middle of the story. I believe if Destefano wanted to stick with first-person, she should have written the entire book from Madeline's POV. To include so many POV characters, she should have written the book in third-person and spent more time on each chapter to flesh out each character. 


Overall, it was a fun read. I enjoyed the world-building and it was refreshing to see a female protagonist in this genre who was a mother--and not some sexy demon/vampire/werewolf. Gaiman would have been proud. 


Blood Prophecy By Stefan Petrucha

Reviewed by I.E. Lester

Vampires always used to be killing machines, blood thirsty demons who, despite a certain amount of charm when in human form, were serious bad guys. The last few decades, possibly starting with Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire, have seen a change.

Vamps have become more sensual, more brooding and are viewed now as victims themselves--at least to some extent-–human beings possessed by a demon forcing them into committing brutal acts to satisfy the bloodlust. In essence they have lost the total out and out fear factor. They have gone young-adult forbidden love romance. Vampires are now officially cuddly.

For this book that’s a tremendous shame. For, had it come out in the days before Twilight (and so many, many others), it would have had a greater impact.

Jeremiah Fall is an unwilling vampire, his life as a puritan farmer, father and husband in seventeenth century Massachusetts having ended when he encountered the beast that left his family dead and him infected.

But the high morals of his religion still hold great sway over him and he struggles against the beast within him, holding off the need to feed as long as he can, all the time knowing it’s only a temporary victory. So, when he hears of a possible cure for his disease, he sets out to find it, only to be dragged into a human war and a vampire apocalypse.

Cue a country-hopping supernatural romp with plenty of violence, both mundane and demonic, magicks, legends of Atlantis-style lost cities, and romance.

Even though the author’s played the vampire mythos pretty straight (drinking blood, immortal, not being sun worshippers), there is much in this that is quite original. For one thing this is not set in the current day. Jeremiah is a soldier of fortune fighting on the Egyptian side against the invading French army of Napoleon. Petrucha’s inserted a great deal of history into his story, sometimes seamlessly but unfortunately sometimes not.

This gives the book an interrupted feel. You can imagine the characters standing around, twiddling their thumbs waiting for the history lesson to end so they can pick up the action again. But some of these historical insertions are inspired--for one the discovery of an ancient stone tablet containing spells written in Greek and Egyptian has wonderful parallels to the Rosetta Stone discovery during this same period. It’s just they are, at times, overdone.

When I first picked this book up I have to admit to having been very wary. The cover hints as Dark Fantasy or Historical Romance, a style I am no fan of. The picture of a mysterious dark warrior type complete with blood stained sword doesn’t scream Vampire novel to me. It is though, and a pretty decent one.

And it’s a great relief to not have Twilight-style vamps, the kind you could take home to meet Mom and Dad.

The Land of OCKT By M.O. Muriel & J.L. Muriel, Illustrations by M.O. Muriel

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

The Land of OCKT begins on a delightfully funny note as the weasel Kat Herder Peeje gets summoned by the governing body of OCKT, the Council of Indecision (COIN), to solve a mystery:  Where has the heir to OCKT, the young Princess Rosepetals, disappeared to? It is the first decision the COIN has made in 1,000 years, and Peeje is rightfully proud.

 

The COIN assumes the Princess has been kidnapped by OCKT's enemies in distant Wan-Wan Land, and off Peeje goes to find the mystical land of baddies. Unfortunately, no one knows how to get there. 


Right away I got a The King of Elfland's Daughter vibe from The  Land of OCKT. (And if you haven't read that classic by Lord Dunsany, run off and buy it today.) Illustrated by M.O. Muriel and written by M.O. and J.L. Muriel, The Land of OCKT offers wonder, delight, and laughs a 'plenty. Some of the humor is silly and some intellectual, word play being the preferred modus operandi, followed by satire. M.O.'s illustrations had me laughing out loud.


Peeje the weasel's much-maligned katz are supernatural beings that blink in and out of visibility and yack up flaming hairballs. They like nothing more than creating mischief...and pilfering whatever they can. Their antics get the weasel into plenty of trouble, although their mutual love is apparent.


Peeje gets tired of the Council of Indecision (a bunch of self-indulging slugs that preside over a round table...facing outwards) and heads out on his own. But he has no idea where to go. After some wandering, he gets a clue that the Land's official road builder, an ogre, might know the way to Wan-Wan Land.


After the compelling debut, The Land of OCKT wanders a little aimlessly for thirty or so pages. Reading the back cover, this seemed wholly appropriate. The book came about from Marine Captain J.L. Muriel's experiences as a Military Combat Advisor in Iraq. In fact, inspiration struck as Captain Muriel participated in a council of sheikhs who could never seem to get anything done.  (In case you are wondering, the Iraqis inspired the flaming hairball-yacking katz, the Marine Combat Advisors the Kat Herders.) This middle section, like post-combat operations in Iraq, felt like jogging in soft sand--Peeje doesn't seem to get anywhere. The katz don't have much individual personality, even their chief Handjive, and I found myself wishing Peeje had a sidekick.


(Huff snuff, thought Peeje, I'm a professional. I don't need a sidekick.)


The story really picks up when Peeje learns that Queen Boo-Foo in the Mountains of the Moon must know the way to Wan-Wan land. Her kingdom brims with wonders and surprises, and the book's tone progresses definitively towards Through the Looking Glass. Of course, the Queen's information doesn't come without a price. Peeje must discover the secret of hair regeneration in the Emerald Caverns or risk losing Princess Rosepetals forever.


From the adventure to Queen Boo-Foo's Magnanimous Palace to the end, I couldn't put The Land of OCKT  down. The finale will have you smiling. And, considering its inspiration, it is completely appropriate. The Land of OCKT teaches us many truths that will outlast contemporary commentary on the war.


Besides the thirty-odd slow pages, I had only one minor complaint. Peeje never seems to be in any real danger. I don't just mean physical danger; there was never a moment that looked like he would fail.


All-in-all, I really enjoyed The Land of OCKT and would recommend it to anyone looking for an intelligent divertissement. OCKT's humor definitely appeals to adults, while its length, animals and farcical nature should appeal to a younger audience.


The Land of OCKT

by M.O. Muriel and J.L. Muriel, illustrations by M.O. Muriel

115 pages

Available on Amazon, Smashwords, and other online stores

Ars Memoria By Beth Bernobich

Reviewed by I.E. Lester

Personal opinion time - I adore novellas. I find it the optimal length for science fiction. I'll freely admit that there is much you can't do in this length. I couldn't imagine Dune (my favourite book) as a novella for instance. But this length makes for excellent concentrated bursts of sci-fi - restricted palette tales where all the action is focused tightly on a single thread and is unencumbered by unnecessary detail.


So the thought of a political espionage thriller set in an alternate Earth with lashings of steampunk overtones in a novella length tale worried me. That's an awful lot of plot content to cram into the less than weighty frame of a novella. I'll admit that I couldn't see how Beth Bernobich could pull it off. She did.


With an incredible efficiency she's delivered a whole new world. And this is not just a slightly altered facsimile of our Earth where maybe England drives on the right, or a familiar historical divergence allowing us to fill in the gaps from what we've seen/read before - no Hitler won WW2 cliché type story.


Bernobich has twisted history in a very believable manner. This Europe is a vastly different creature. Ireland was never subjugated by the British, quite the opposite, and is a powerful player in this less technologically advanced world. (Without the empire building and major wars of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries it is logical that technology would not have advanced at the pace of our world.)


The Irish Queen Áine Lasairíona Devereaux sends an agent, Adrian Dee, to the Balkans (as troubled in this world as ours) to investigate rumours of English freedom fighters seeking foreign support for there cause - and whether there is a traitor in the Queen's court.


The steampunk retro-feel serves to heighten the tension of the main plot. Removing the high-tech gadgetry of modern thrillers returns the emphasis to one man's intuition and intellect against another's. It's kind of like comparing an episode of Columbo with CSI, although unlike Columbo we are as much in the dark as to the traitor in the Irish court as Dee.


But good though the plot is - it's the world Bernobich has created here that will interest most science fiction fans. And this is where you'll wish this were longer. What we get of the background is so compelling but there's not enough of it. You'll finish this book wanting so much more.



The Bone House: A Bright Empires Novel By Stephen R. Lawhead

Reviewed by Donna Glee Williams

I found the pleasures of The Bone House (“Quest the Second” in Stephen R. Lawhead’s Bright Empires series) lie mostly in touring the book’s locations. The author likes to travel—he says that going places is his favorite kind of research—and he’s more than willing to take us with him while he zips around his richly detailed multiverse, riding the ley-lines like cross-town buses between worlds and epochs. Lawhead refers to his favored genre as “this hybrid historical/fantasy thing,” and The Bone House’s treasure-hunt across the interconnected dimensions of space and time gives him lots of freedom to exercise his historical-writing muscles. 


His itinerary in this book includes old favorites like Egypt in the 1920’s and foggy, gas-lit London, as well as some under-visited locales like seventeenth-century Prague, the Etruscan city of Velathri, and medieval Oxford, culminating with an extended home-stay with a clan of aboriginal hunter/gatherers in an unnamed paleo-place. The Bone House continues a complex, multi-stage quest that began in The Skin Map, a quest to find the scattered sections of a cryptic map that record the discoveries of an early explorer of ley-travel to parallel dimensions. The search takes different characters to different places at different times and asks a lot of readers as they must  participate by connecting the dots and filling in the gaps in the action. Lawhead describes his writing as organic and shuns outlining his plots in favor of discovering them as he goes along. His readers’ experience is similar, complicated by the non-linear (or multi-linear?) chronology caused by time-slippage as the cast goes ley-leaping between worlds. (When a book opens, like this one does, with that Einstein quote about the distinction between past, present, and future being “only an illusion—albeit a persistent one,” caveat lector. Let the reader beware.)


Readers won’t turn to this author for his shimmering prose style or the impeccable logic of his plots; you often find the word “bestselling” connected with his work, but not the word “literary.” However a lifetime of exploring the human experience of the divine has given ex-musician, ex-artist, ex-seminary student Lawhead a deft touch for imagining himself into other culture’s approaches to the sacred and carrying his readers with him. He portrays an Etruscan king’s auguries and an aboriginal elder’s vision-quest with satisfying emotional realism, respect, and empathy.


This book is for people who read and enjoyed the preceding book in the series. A summary of The Skin Map is thoughtfully provided to refresh memories of the intricate time-line, cast of characters, and house-rules for this world, but the prologue won’t be enough to help the un-initiated throw themselves into the The Bone House with pleasure. The conclusion only leads on to the next lap; nothing is resolved. The book doesn’t work—and is not intended—as a stand-alone novel. If you want to make Lawhead’s acquaintance, this is not the place to start.


The Bone House: A Bright Empires Novel

by Stephen R. Lawhead

Thomas Nelson, 2011

385 pages, $25.99 jacketed hardcover

Lord of Emperpors, Book II of The Sarantine Monsaic By Guy Gavriel Kay

Reviewed by Robert W. Enstrom

Published by ROC (New American Library),

paperback, 429 pages.


This is a historical fantasy set in a time and place similar to the Byzantine Empire in the time of Justinian (600 A.D.). It is a complex tale following a number of intriguing characters - a barbarian Queen in exile, a charioteer, an exotic dancer and many more.  The two most important are a physician who saves the life of and Emperor

(and is rewarded with a deadly mission) and a mason who is tasked with decorating the edifice of a Church and Empire (but owes his loyalty elsewhere).  Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the book is that is set in a time when the ancient predatory habits of humanity are changing into something slightly more cooperative.  


The people of this time and place can still be ruthless and impulsive, but some show restraint and compassion.  Sometimes these acts of restraint lead to tragedy and at other times to unexpected rewards.  This is, after all, a time of transition, when the blinding or exile of a political opponent is an option to quick execution - when it is possible for a person of power to feel regret for political murder rather than triumph.


Through the entire tale is woven an underlying question.  Which actions are those that carry real importance and consequence for the future?  Is it the action of an Emperor, who by his whim can change or destroy the lives of many thousands,?  Is it the action of an artisan, whose creations can inspire those of his own time and future generations?  Or is it the intertwining actions of many ordinary persons, who through changing mores, behavior and knowledge make the most impact on the generations to come.


Kay helped J.R.R.Tolkien in his later years and it is no wonder that he can make you ponder your own actions in life and do it by creating a world of real people that you will regret leaving.


Sympathy for the Devil By Justin Gustainis

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Some time ago I reviewed Black Magic Woman, another Quincy Jones Occult Investigator series. The engaging characters made the demon-hunting action fun and exciting. Sympathy for the Devil adds one thing more. This book is smart. The plot hums. The characters (good and evil) believe in what they are doing. And the pages practically turn themselves.


It reads very much like a Vince Flynn thriller.


Gustainis knows human nature and he never turns his characters into cardboard cut-outs. Best of all, he never underestimates his villains.


The plot begins when a major demon from hell takes possession of Senator Howard Stark, a Republican long-shot for president, and attacks the campaign trail--with a little help from black magic and a ruthless political operative named Mary Margaret Doyle. The betrayal that starts everything off is so obvious you'll never see it coming. I knew from that moment I would be hooked. 


Stark wants to win the presidency so that he can begin Armageddon. The real one. He's got an uphill battle and a lot of candidates in the way. Smear campaigns work wonders, but he's going to need more than that. Poison? Torture? Electrocution, anyone?


But one faction in Hell isn't too keen on precipitating Armageddon. God beat them once, after all. Why tempt fate again? They send a condemned assassin (reborn in human flesh) and a minor demon with orders to kill Stark before election day. That little complication makes Sympathy for the Devil so much more satisfying. I say 'complication' because the real protagonists are occult investigator Quincy Morris and white witch Libby Chastain.


Despite its title, there is very little here in the way of investigation. The PI Quincy Morris is more of a demon hunter than an investigator, and while the plot slowly reveals itself to him the reader already knows the score, and the clues fall into Morris's lap with little effort. As in Black Magic Woman, Morris partners with libertine White Witch Libby Chastain, the most interesting character in the book.


By its very nature, Sympathy for the Devil contains a lot of politics. And, because the demon chooses to inhabit a Republican candidate, the politics are exclusively Republican. This gives the author plenty of opportunities to throw barbs at real-life Republican operatives, and a few at conservatives in general. The one-party nature of the barbs bothered me a little, but by page 150 or so the author seems to have gotten this out of his system and it never becomes an issue again.


Stark really is a demon, and so I did not expect (or get) any character change from him. Gustainis takes great pains to show us Stark's pleasure in tormenting his own minions--particularly Mary Margaret Doyle--without ever stooping to the grotesque. 


The most interesting character change for me involves one of the secondary characters, the reborn assassin who decides that his mission to kill may actually be a chance to redeem himself and avoid a second trip to hell. He develops real feelings for the demon sent to aid him--feelings she should not be able to reciprocate. But either she is a hell of an actress, or her human body has changed the rules. We don't find out which until the final pages.


A couple of little things bothered me, but I can't figure out how to complain without revealing some spoilers, so I'll leave those for the reader to decide. All in all, Sympathy for the Devil is a fun, smart read. I'd like to thank Gustainis for writing a book so easy to pun about. Unlike Stark, I showed some mercy and deleted about half of them from this review.

Hitler's War By Harry Turtledove

Reviewed by I.E. Lester

World War II is the most frequently visited time period for alternate history novels. A moment's thought brings together a number of authors, both sci-fi (Philip K. Dick) and mainstream (Len Deighton, Robert Harris), who've used the simple premise of a German victory to produce great novels.

Harry Turtledove though isn't going to do anything so cliched. He begins his tale before the outbreak of war in the 1930s, and changes two events and then imagines what would have happened if they'd played out differently.

One of these events will be widely known, the Munich Conference at which the British and French leaders agreed to Nazi Germany's annexation of the 

Sudetenland region of Czechoslovakia. (Turtledove has this conference fail causing war to start in 1938 rather than a year later over an invasion of Poland.)

The other though will probably not be familiar to anyone but history buffs. In 1936 Spanish General Jose Sanjurjo died when his plane crashed as he was returning from exile to lead the Nationalist cause in place of Francisco Franco. Here Sanjurjo is persuaded to leave his heavy baggage behind (believed to be a contributing factor in the plane crash), enabling him to take full part in the ongoing Spanish Civil War.

This is pretty intense stuff. For one thing Turtledove tells his tale from many perspectives, both high-ups and common soldiers, covering most of the nationalities involved in the continent wide fighting, and he does so with very little character building. This can lead to some confusion. It's difficult at times remembering what each of the characters is doing, where they are or even which side they're on. To give an indication of this here's a sampling of the novel's cast

It's also fairly slow going. There are so many strands to this it takes a great number of pages to feel you've moved forward a single step in any one plotline. And one last gripe - there are parts of this that are only the 

history buffs amongst the readership are going to totally understand. (If I hadn't told you about Sanjurjo would you have known? I didn't. I had to look him up on Wikipedia.)

But for all the negatives listed this is still a good book. While it is far from his best work, Turtledove is a skilled writer and he brings the time period to life and gets you down with the dirty side of war without having to resort to overly descriptive gore. And he sets up a world that is just different enough to make things interesting - and, crucially I suppose, not to put you off reading the inevitable sequel (this does after all only take the action through to 1939).

Publisher - Del Rey

ISBN-13: 978-0345491831

528 pages

Hard Spell By Justin Gustainis

Reviewed by Nu Yang

I've always wanted to read Justin Gustainis's books. Yes, I've seen his novels at the stores, drawn in by the dark urban fantasy covers. I even have a copy of Black Magic Woman (unread) still sitting on my bookshelf. Even when I found out he was going to attend the Odyssey Fantasy Writing Workshop (a workshop I attended too), I let his book linger on my to-be-read pile. Then, I found out he was putting out a new book—the first in a series that combined the traditional noir genre with the popular urban fantasies he was already known for. As a fan of both genres, I jumped at the chance to review Hard Spell, and finally get to see what Mr. Gustainis was all about.


Overall, Hard Spell delivered. It was noir. It was urban fantasy. It had guns. It had vampires. It had a protagonist with a badge battling his inner demons. It had a protagonist with a badge battling, well, demons. The protagonist—Stan Markowski of the Scranton Police Department's Occult Crimes Unit. (Yes, that Scranton, the famous Pennsylvania town made famous in the hit-NBC comedy The Office, but this isn't the same city Michael Scott and company inhabit--although it would make an interesting crossover.) Something's killing local vampires, and it doesn't matter if vampires are technically already dead, a murder is still a crime that needs to be solved. Most importantly, it may linked to the recent murder of a wizard.


I don't want to give away too much of the plot, but there are lots of twists and turns—one that I will address at the end, so if you don't want to get spoiled, I'll warn you. 


I enjoyed the secondary characters especially Markowski's partner, Karl, and the neighboring Sargent Lacey Brennan, who loves telling dirty jokes. At times, there do seem to be too many characters and Gustainis likes going into detail about their appearances. I'm not sure if these characters will show up in future books (like the SWAT team member, and that's SWAT as in Sacred Weapons and Tactics), but I didn't feel it was necessary at the time. 


I did like the little world building tidbits Gustainis threw in to remind the reader this isn't the world we know--like the SWAT unit. Another example is when he opens the book with a history lesson about how the supernatural creatures have always been a part of our lives. I loved how Markowski tells us Martin Luther King's “I Have a Dream” speech included the line, “black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, naturals and supernaturals” would live together in harmony. I chuckled at that.


Something that I found unusual was that there were no chapters in the book, which made the pacing unsteady at times.


Now, I'm going to give away some of the plot, so stop reading here if you don't want to get spoiled.


Although I enjoyed the rising tension Gustainis built with each dead vampire that popped up, I didn't understand why the killer didn't off the five vampires he needed right away for the spell to work. I might have missed that plot point though.


I also wasn't a fan of how the killer was revealed to be the son of the vampire head, who also happened to be helping Markowski on the case. It seemed too contrived and it didn't provide any tension since Dad was more than willing to help Markowski stop his son. 


Markowski messed up a lot. I like dark characters who aren't perfect, who don't have all the right answers, but even from the beginning, Markowski was involved with the death of his first partner. Then, he got a white light witch possessed by a black magic wizard. Then, he got a professor viciously murdered after the professor translated some evil spell for Markowski. Maybe it's to add more weight to Markowski's conscience, but I felt like all of his choices resulted in mistakes and deaths. 


The main twist I liked and didn't like at the same time was Markowski's daughter, Christine, who is actually a vampire. Christine was turned because Markowski didn't want her to die of leukemia, so basically, she didn't have a say in the matter. The same exact thing happens at the end of the book when Markowski has Christine turn a nearly-dead Karl after the big battle with the killer. Now, I don't remember Karl ever saying he wanted to become a vampire, but again, Markowski takes away that choice from someone else. In the preview page for the next book, we see that Karl has indeed been turned into a vampire.


In the end, it was a fast read filled with good tension and an interesting premise for a new series. Now, after reading Hard Spell, I am more inclined to pick up my copy of Black Magic Woman, so, it's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Gustainis. 


A Wild Light By Marjorie M. Liu

Reviewed by Nu Yang

Being a demon hunter has taken its toll on Maxine Kiss, the heroine in Marjorie Liu's Hunter Kiss novels. In A Wild Light, the third book in the series, Maxine is forced to confront the darkness inside her. When Maxine finds herself covered in blood next to her grandfather's dead body, she fears the possible evil residing in her may have awakened. The only problem is she doesn't remember what happened. I gobbled up the first two books (The Iron Hunt and Darkness Calls ) last summer, so I was excited to read the next installment and meet the characters again, especially Killy (a psychic ally) and Father Lawrence (a werewolf ally).


Although I enjoyed the mystery and the plot of A Wild Light, I was not a fan of the amnesia storyline. Maxine pretty much remembers herself and her powers. The only thing she doesn't remember--besides the moments before her grandfather's death--is her lover Grant Cooperon. I found it was more convenient for the author to have her heroine not remember her lover in order to develop the relationship and romance. As I mentioned, I already read the first two books in the series and I was aware of the love story between Maxine and Grant. To have Maxine forget Grant was sad, but the memory loss should have stayed tied in with the central storyline of her grandfather and Maxine’s possible responsibility for his death. 


The book moves the series along, answering questions on the origin of Maxine's powers and at the same time setting up future conflicts and storylines. I only wish that we got to see more of the secondary characters like Killy and Father Lawrence. 


What I always like in Liu's books is her world building skills. She does a great job with creating her magical system and sticking to the rules. I love that Maxine's demon tattoos come to life (and that each demon has a distinctive personality). I love that Grant can see auras and uses sound through singing to manipulate energy. I love the idea of zombies, Reaper Kings, and the Blood Mama, queen of the zombies. A Wild Light is not your usual dark urban fantasy story. Sure, it has the same elements as others in the genre, but its unique world and magic system sets it apart.

Sword of Fire and Sea, Book I of The Chaos Knight By Erin Hoffman

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Sword of Fire and Sea, first in the adventures of The Chaos Knight, is a swashbuckling fantasy adventure reminiscent of the golden age of high fantasy dominated by the likes of Terry Brooks and Tad Williams. For those of you pining for return of high fantasy adventure, this is it.


Vidarian Rulorat, captain of a merchant tall ship, is called upon to provide safe transport for a fire elemental priestess through pirate-infested waters to a safe harbor. The fire priestess Ariadel Windhammer (beautiful, of course) holds the secret to finding the hideout of evil telepathic wizards--knowledge the wizards would do anything to suppress. Ariadel has many more secrets which come out as the story progresses, and I’m not revealing anything to say that she and the captain have romance on the horizon. 


More surprisingly, the ship’s captain learns he has hidden powers. In fact, he becomes more of a prize to the renegade telepaths than Ariadel, and soon both are on the run with surprising allies and even more surprising enemies. 


Each time I thought I had the story figured out, Hoffman would throw in a plot twist that turned everything upside down. Sword of Fire and Sea is full of such surprises, and as such is a fast, fun read. I would have preferred a little deeper characterization, but of course that would have slowed things down.


Hoffman has created a fun world populated by gryphons, elemental witches, pirates, and goddesses. I greatly enjoyed the maritime setting, the salty air and cry of gulls never far from my imagination. Many high fantasies ignore commerce all together, as if the economies of their worlds ran on warfare alone and food grew in people’s bellies. But Hoffman’s world is based on politics and trade and the correct assumption (very relevant in today’s political climate) that people in power have the most to lose from change and often will accept a worse fate for their countries in exchange for the status quo. 


Hoffman indicated that there The Chaos Knight is a trilogy, although she hopes to write more books in this fascinating world. For those of you who dislike waiting years for a sequel to appear, take heart. The second book has already been sent to the publisher for editing. I for one look forward eagerly to reading it.


Sword of Fire and Sea

by Erin Hoffman

277 pages

Pyr, 2011

ISBN 978-61614-373-2

The Army of the Republic By Stuart Archer Cohen

Reviewed by Bob Sojka

Dean Wesley Smith advises authors not to write book reviews; it risks ticking someone off that you may some day want as a friend, editor, etc. By now you’ve probably noticed that I only review books I like. Maybe they’re more like recommendations, and maybe that gives me some Kevlar. When I picked up Stuart Cohen’s “Army of the Republic,” my modest expectation was a week of passable bedtime reading. Wrong.


I’m a slow reader, so it still took two nights, but I forced the puppy off the bed, fried my eyes, grumped out my sleepy wife, and stepped a dozen or so months into an angry hypothetical future, hanging on for dear life, and suffering paper cuts from frenzied page flipping. I watched a master weave a tapestry depicting a plausible descent into anarchy.  


“The Army of the Republic” came to me just as the Tea Party got up a head of steam and I finished it just as BP turned the Gulf of Mexico into an oil slick with barely an “Oops, I’m sorry” about the eleven killed. Last night I watched Gulf coast shrimpers, chambers of commerce, tourism businessmen, local elected officials and coastal residents rage as near-insouciant oil industry apologists, apparently impotent bureaucrats, and legalistically hamstrung Federal agencies talked past them. The possibility of Cohen’s fiction blazed in their eyes. 

“Army” is a story of when folks who often bicker over their beliefs unite in ferocious outrage against mega-industries treating them like ants. When sugar ants become fire ants. When they decide to swarm and mete out death by a thousand stings. When justice is sluggish or blocked by bureaucracy or corruption, and vigilantism is embraced by the disenfranchised. When apathy is transformed into an outcry for restitution and the execution of wrongdoers. When terrorists become freedom fighters and their executions and bombings become a 21st century Concord Bridge.


“Army” is about a populist uprising in an America where corporations are not just treated as too important to fail, but too important to be burdened by the same mundane laws and mores that govern the rest of society. Where privilege translates to complete legal immunity and total power. Where the Government’s bottom line is so desperate that it’s every function is outsourced to a string of enterprises run by “Barrington,” a corporation reminiscent of Halliburton.  The off-reservation strong arm tactics of “Whitehall,” a private security corporation, unfettered by governmental constraints, is rationalized as protecting the “legitimate” albeit incestuous interests of the corporatized government. In Cohen’s scenario, water is the natural resource that corporate America decides to privatize into an all powerful monopoly.

The big picture story unfolds across a web of tangled relationships among the principle characters. There is Lando, the lead conspirator, a yuppy who has burrowed into the Seattle activist community, the founder of A R (the crosshairs logo for Army of the Republic), a people person with a knack for bringing diverse groups together in a common cause. There is Emily Cortright, emissary of the mainstream activist community to the underground A R, and Lando’s love interest. There is James Sands, a principled and wildly successful Steve Jobs-like titan of entrepreneurialism, who solves water shortages across the U.S. via ever larger commercialization of public water resources. There is Anne Sands, the yoga-practicing, Buddhism loving, environmentalist teacher wife of James Sands. And there are all the right- and left-leaning “compañeros” that Lando brings together in the A R cause, and all the government and industry toadies that draw James Sands slowly toward the dark side when his tour-de-force project in the Pacific Northwest is attacked.

As events unfold, however, we learn that all is not as it seems. Lando has a secret that initially gives the A R a keen advantage as they initiate their uprising. But the secret eventually leads to their downfall. James Sands’ seduction by this story’s “Sith” is thwarted when Anne abandons him in disgust and is subsequently injured at a demonstration in Seattle, a victim of the Whitehall troops James’ company has funded. Lando’s all-in commitment eventually compromises the principles that initially gave his cause the moral high ground. In the final pages, the full cast of characters meet in a maelstrom of miscalculations that defines the startling, if not entirely surprising, ending.


This story, set largely in Seattle, site of the massive 1999 World Trade Organization protests, has so many similarities to recent political and societal events and concerns that it feels often like a waking dream. At times it is hard to distinguish fiction from reality, exaggeration from cautionary outcry, right from left, and right from wrong. Cohen tells us his book draws from events witnessed and researched in South America. But the story feels no more third world or banana republic than the confrontation of Lousiana shrimpers and Petroleum titans flashing across the evening news as I type these words. Maybe the accents are a little different. Stay tuned. Even that might change by the time you finish reading your copy of “Army of the Republic.”

Spellcast By Barbara Ashford

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Let me confess something right up front. I'm a guy, and I enjoy musicals. For our five-year anniversary, my wife got us tickets to see South Pacific. I've seen it about a dozen times over the years, and each time I discover something new. I enjoy the music, the story, the life lessons, love and loss, and the magic of having the performers only yards away, the curtains and the marks and the makeup visible to the discerning eye, until the music rolls and the actors make us forget all that and transport us to an imaginary isle in the balmy south Pacific.


A good book can do the same thing. Spellcast does such a thing.


One of those rare gems of a fantasy novel, Spellcast is an original, something completely unique in the pantheon of novels I have read over a lifetime. It is a love story, a fantasy, a mystery, and a theatre book all rolled up into one. Spellcast is not a dark story; nor is it an adventure, so if you are looking for the next Legend of the Seeker this isn't it. The narrator's tone has more in common with Legally Blond than Song of Ice and Fire. But there is plenty of tension and mystery to keep even the most jaded reader turning pages into the night. I carried it everywhere with me, even to my cousin's wedding rehearsal (though remembering my Emily Post I left it in the car for the wedding.) 


Maggie Graham, help desk employee and former (small time) musical theater actress, leaves New York in a hurry after her job fizzles. A road trip. Need to get away and all that. She drives until she finds herself in the cozy little town of Dale, Vermont where a mysterious theatre draws her with its siren song. The shows take place each year in a barn resembling a gothic cathedral...or a Wiccan house of worship. Within a few days she gets swept up in the magic and has pledged her summer to the casting call.


That's where the mystery and romance begins. The theatre's director, Rowan Mackenzie, casts a spell over everything and everyone in the theatre--and the town--drawing out professional performances from seemingly hapless amateurs. He casts people in roles based on what they "need" to learn, rather than in the roles they seem best suited for. And, despite whirlwind rehearsals, the performances dazzle. At least until Maggie begins to dig a little deeper into the mystery of the place and part of the magic fizzles.


Like many romances, the direction this one will take is clear from the beginning. The interest lies in how it will proceed, rather than in whom Maggie will turn her affections on. (Think back to the great romances of literature:  You always knew Elizabeth Bennett would fall for Mr. Darcy, didn't you?) There is more than enough mystery, suspense, and yes, conflict, to keep the interest up.


All the cast members carry their own personalities, quirks and foibles. The staff is imbued with a subtle magical energy to keep everyone in line, but the master sorcerer is certainly Rowan Mackenzie. The great director seems at once in love with his theatre and its performances, and tormented with the necessity of being here. We get the feeling that he is some sort of Sisyphus, doomed to stay here and put on performances until the end of time. The scars on his hands and neck seem to indicate the same, not to mention the mysterious goings on (fireflies whirling, enchanted music, mass hypnosis...) around Midsummer.


Reading Spellcast, I couldn't help thinking that the theatre really does cast a spell on us. Who has never fantasized about working in theatre? Who has never wanted to mesmerize with his delivery, to sing like Lea Salonga or Michael Crawford, or jerk an audience's heartstrings like Elizabeth Taylor? For those of us with no background in stage, learning the terminology is a hoot (cast lists, green room, pit, upstage, downstage, stage left and right, wings, sight lines, gaffer tape, cheating front...), yet done in small enough, entertaining bits that even theater aficionados won't mind the review. If Spellcast doesn't make you want to pick up theatre tickets to recapture the magic, then nothing will.


As you can see, I enthusiastically endorse Spellcast. I can almost guarantee that it will make you want to see Brigadoon


Spellcast

by Barbara Ashford

DAW Books, Inc

May, 2011

ISBN 978-0-7564-0682-0

The Healers By Thomas Heric

Reviewed by Susie Hawes

The Healers, book one of The Aesculapians, is a disturbing glimpse into the past and future of medicine. Written by Thomas Heric, it is a book well worth the price.

Imagine a world where all of mankind’s illnesses could be cured, for an excessive fee. Imagine a group of doctors who could rejuvenate old people and resurrect the dead. Only the rich need apply.

The Aesculapian Healers are such an organization. Their methods are secret; their price dear. Ruthless and highly organized, the Healers recruit the brightest of minds and run their society like a corporation, cutting out conventional medicine.

They are rooted in secrecy, greed, and lack of conscience, and have slowly driven many hospitals, clinics and doctors into bankruptcy. Theirs is a dark past and an insidious future. 

The hero of this book is Wesley Anderson, who is recruited as one of the brightest medical minds to graduate from conventional medical schools. He is promised a cure for his father’s illness and alleviation for his family’s impending financial ruin. Wesley finds the methods employed by the Aesculapians to be heartless and their leadership corrupt, but as the story unfolds, he realizes the corruption goes far deeper into the roots of the Healers’ organization than anyone would have suspected. Theirs is a dark, evil past and their plans for the future are cruel and inhuman. They plan no less than mass murder, and he sets out to stop them.

Joining with a group of acolytes and teachers, Wesley sets his group against the most vicious, organized and formidable enemies of mankind.

To my great pleasure I discovered this book reads a bit like a Crichton novel. The science is solidly grounded by the author, himself a physician for more than four decades. The writing is smooth. Although in the beginning the chapters were so brief and the plot so involved as to give the book a bit of a choppy feel, once the author hit his stride he created a tense, tightly plotted page turner. The characters feel real, the bad guys are evil without being campy and the hero is a smart, caring person.  I found myself rooting for him and the other “dissidents” to bring the Aesculapians down before they bring their plans for mass murder to fruition.  

The writing is peppered with journal entries, emails, reports and other media that not only strengthens and supports the plot but gives the reader insight into the minds of the leaders of the Aesculapians. We are also treated to glimpses of the past, during the time when this organization was founded. As this story unfolds the motives of all the characters, both Aesculapians and Dissidents, are portrayed with color, texture and intelligence. This is a good read. My only suggestion would be to tighten the beginning chapters.

The conclusion of this book was satisfactory, as Wesley and his friends begin to clean up the organization. The former leaders are not all gone, and he must find a way to work in spite of their interference.

For solid plotting, strong character development and good story telling, I give this book a four and a half out of five, and look forward to the next installment in the series.

Dead Streets By Tim Waggoner

Reviewed by I.E. Lester

Matt Richter is a former Cleveland cop, turned zombie P.I. Because of his somewhat unique status he's traded his hometown for the demon dimension Nekropolis (where all the supernatural beings fled when mankind grew powerful).


However his do-gooder ways don't always stand him in good stead in this demon realm and his previous adventures have brought him a significant number of enemies. And it seems one of them has decided it's payback time. Richter is kidnapped, decapitated (not a fatal blow for a zombie) and his body used in a heist.


Deemed guilty by the Adjudicator, a kind of judiciary in Nekropolis, Richter is exiled to Tenebrus - the hell dimension's equivalent of hell (pretty bad, in other words). So now he has to avoid being killed (permanently) by all the creatures he caused to be exiled in his previous adventures, escape and clear his name. Not so easy, you might think. Fortunately he has also made friends?


Waggoner walks the line between horror action and comedic content superbly. Okay, there are very few out and out laughs here, but everything is tongue in cheek. It's more of a smirk-producer. But it still maintains a taut plot, one with definite moments of tension and with a decent twist or two thrown in for good measure.


Matt, as a former human and transplant from our world, is our mirror to this bizarre world. He places our values and outlook on a very different world. He's ably supported by a backing-team of decent second tier characters: his girlfriend Devona (a vampire), Tavi (a genetically-enhanced lycanthrope), Scorch (fire-demon) and Bogdan (warlock) who, since the events of book one, have teamed up to form a private investigations agency.


Nekropolis is a breath of fresh air to horror fiction. Okay, there have been plenty of comedic horror stories before but Waggoner has taken it a step further and built a Terry Pratchett style demon dimension. It has that same off-the-wall feel as the Discworld - a bizarre, somewhat silly but in a serious way, invented world populated by humorously twisted versions of 

all our favourite monsters. (As well as wonderful demonic versions of many day-to-day items and institutions - mobile phones, taxicabs and all manner of the familiar get a great dark make over).


Like Pratchett, Waggoner is not averse to incorporating characters from other popular stories. Where the former included the Phantom of the Opera (amongst others) Waggoner here tips his hat to Mary Shelley. One of the most powerful of Nekropolis folk is Victor Baron - Frankenstein's Monster as was. Baron has taken on the work of his creator and now builds his 

reconstituted corpses to act as bouncers, security guards etc.


Given the two centuries of horror fiction he's got plenty of source material to play with Nekropolis is a series that could grow stronger and stronger.


Dead Streets

by Tim Waggoner

Publisher - Angry Robot

ISBN - 978-0-00-732387-6

415 pages

April 2010

Under Heaven By Guy Gavriel Key

Reviewed by Robert W. Enstrom

Are you interested in traveling to a China that may have been a thousand years ago? This book gives you the chance to make that journey in the company of a young man named Shen Tai who is in search of an understanding of his own place under Heaven. As a young adult, he first follows his father profession in the army, then, after an unsettling experience with the supernatural, tries the life of a monk. When this proves unsuitable, he studies for the exacting civil service examinations, perhaps to follow his brother's path in life. But events intervene. His father passes away and he must chose a suitable way to spend the two years of mandatory mourning.

 

We join his story at this point in his life, toward the end of the two year mourning period. And it is the unusual means he has chosen to mourn his father that sweeps him up into the greater conflicts of vast China of his birth.


His father, a retired general, had regretted certain aspects of his service, and one of these regrets was for the dead of a battlefield that lies in the uneasy no-man's-land between two warring states. Because of its remote location and the contested nature of the land, the dead of this battlefield lie unburied.

 

As a tribute to his father's memory, Shen Tai spends nearly two years on this forgotten field of battle, caring for the remains of the fallen, regardless of which army they belonged to in life. And it is this act of remembrance and sympathy that brings him great rewards and even greater danger. The rulers of the enemy state notice his activities and they reward him with a gift so valuable that it put his life in danger and brings him to the attention of the powerful in his own country.

 

The book recounts Shen Tai's efforts to stay alive after this sudden gift--a gift of not only monetary value, but of political and military value as well.

 

The China of Shen Tai's struggles is a might have been China--or perhaps one that exists only on the pages of this book. But it is an interesting China, where the supernatural lies not to far beneath the surface. And strangely, it is Shen Tai's acts of sympathy that bring him into contact with this other world. First, when as a military man, he cares for the fate of two unmilked goats--an act that lead him to interrupt a dark ritual. And later, in his care for the unburied dead. Both these acts have unforeseen consequences that shape the future of Shen Tai's life, and the lives of those close to him.

 

If you would like to explore the fate of this one man in the uncharted sea of this far away China, then you'll have to read Under Heaven.

Waking the Witch By Kelley Armstrong

Reviewed by Nu Yang

At first glance, Waking the Witch has everything I love about a good urban fantasy novel: a strong female character, romantic tension, and an interesting supernatural crime that needs to be solved. Unfortunately, Kelley Armstrong's latest novel in her Otherworld series did not deliver an unforgettable adventure.


This is Armstrong's eleventh book in her series, using a young witch named Savannah Levine that was introduced in the second book (Stolen) as the protagonist. I'm not sure why Armstrong decided to bring Savannah upfront and give the character her own book, but I did not know much about Savannah or her backstory. Unfamiliarity may lose some readers--especially those who are new to the series. Many characters in this book are in previous installments as well.


I was eager to see what Armstrong's magic system was like, but she "told" us a lot of the magic as opposed to "showing" us the magic. For example, she would write that Savannah used a binding spell or a blur spell rather than show us how it worked or how it felt from Savannah's point of view. Even though it was told in first-person, I did not feel like we were that close inside her head. Another thing I noticed was that everything came easily for Savannah because she could use magic to save herself. I did not sense any real danger for her, even when it looked like she was a target for the killer on the loose.


Like many other female protagonists in the genre, Savannah has an attitude and members of the male species are attracted to her. You can't blame them. She's young, pretty, and rides a motorcycle. I don't know if it's Savannah's age (she's only 21 and this is her first solo case) or her gender, but two (two!) men show up to town to rescue her. Another problem was that Savannah allows herself to open up and have feelings for a human detective who is helping with the murder case, only to have author Armstrong kill him off. This was a missed opportunity because the relationship showed an interesting side of Savannah. What I wish Armstrong and other urban fantasy authors would start doing is loosen up with the angst. Don't get me wrong; I love angst, but when one tragedy comes after the other it's draining, not only for the character, but also for the reader.


Spoiler alert, reading on will reveal one of the main "secrets" of the plot.


The disappointing ending also left me desiring more in terms of the plot. The villain turns out to someone named Leah, who I suppose has been a recurring character in the series. Like I mentioned earlier, new readers to the series would have no idea who Leah is and I was underwhelmed with the revelation--especially when we spent the entire book speculating on other possible culprits. Also, after a suspenseful build-up to what promised to be an explosive showdown, Savannah and Leah end up talking during most of the battle instead of fighting. The ending left us with a cliffhanger, which I'm guessing sets us up for the next book in the series. I'm not sure of this tactic since I was always told each book in a series should stand alone.


Overall, the story could have used more showing and less talking scenes to convey stronger emotions and urgency. I also needed to know earlier what was at stake for Savannah if she couldn't solve the case and catch the killer. This book would probably work better for those who are already established fans of the Otherworld series.

http://www.kelleyarmstrong.com/

Legends of the Stars By Patrick Moore

Reviewed by I.E. Lester

Two millennia ago the Greeks looked at the heavens and saw patterns in the stars. These patterns became the heroes and monsters, gods and mortals of their legends. In this book veteran astronomer Sir Patrick Moore details the myths of the ancient Greeks, the tales of Orion the Hunter, Perseus and the Gorgon Medusa, Winged Horses, jealousy amongst the gods, dragons, lions and bears, Jason and the Argonaut, and so on.

But once each of the tales is complete he discusses, although briefly, the constellations named after the characters from these myths, and the stars that make them up.

The tales in this book are timeless. They still enchant us two thousand years after they were originally written. These names are instantly familiar to us. But in reading this book you might realise just how little you know of the actual tales (unless of course Hollywood has got some details right in one of their movies).

"Legends of the Stars" has one major downside. When you consider just how much is contained in the pages it does feel a little rushed. It tells eight epic and complex mythic tales in 180 pages. This is a tall order in itself but add in the astronomy detail, the star maps and details of the main stars of the described constellations, and you really do feel you wanting more, and in some instances the stories actually become a little difficult to read. You do get too many Greek names in quick succession at times, and it can become confusing.

But for that one fault this is a delightful book. I've been fascinated with stars and planets most of my life, and I've read many of the Greek myths. But despite my familiarity with the subject matter this book was still very entertaining and totally absorbing. I read it in just two sessions. I just didn't want to put it down.

This book was first released in 1964 and has now been given a new life by The History Press. It doesn't feel that old though. Patrick Moore has a straightforward, non-frilly, writing style. That might not be for everyone.

If you want highly decorative prose, there are many other books of Greek mythology out there - as well as many fantasy-fictionalised versions of these stories. Moore doesn't flowery things up; he doesn't wrap you in comfortable blanket of storytelling. He just gets on and tells you the facts (or, in this case, the myths). And there's definitely a place for informative books like this on my shelf.

Gray Apocalypse By James Murdoch

Reviewed by Susie Hawes

In Puerto Rico, in May of 1988, Amaury Rivera was abducted by aliens. Terrible things were shown to him, and he was released to warn mankind.

Of course, he was shunned, ingored, belittled by so many. But, what if?

James Murdoch, a professional investigator, dares to ask himself this question.  He answeres it in the novel, "Gray Apocalypse?, leavng very little to the imagination.

An asteroid hurtles through space on a collision course with our planet. Only a handful of humans can stop it. One, the mysterious, former assassin Kendon breaks away from the underground society bent on helping the aliens demolish our species, and contacts the daughter of his friend, the scientist, Laura Meller. Kendon enlists Laura's aid, not revealing that he was the one who killed her father.

Meanwhile an astronomer, Eric Tepler, has spotted the killer asteroid.

As the story unfolds we discover that the Roswell Incident was only one of many, and that our government has been working with the gray "Breeder" aliens to create hybrid alien/human creatures who stand to inherit the earth once the asteroid has scoured it clean of all life. The gray aliens are god-like and stand not only to gain control of a planet but also a class of servants.  I suppose in a way, the government expects humanity to survive in the hybrids.

This novel is a page turner, filled with sharp visuals, dangerous conspiracies, well-draw, sympathetic characters and a premise that is classic sci-fi. Tight, intelligent plotting is interspersed with humanizing moments, like when an ex-assassin tries to help a child who has cancer. The author provides a link to Chapter Seven on his website, so the reader can get a feel of the book: http://grayapocalypse.com/GrayApocalypseExcerpt.pdf.

Author James Murdoch's background as an investigator shows in the novel's approach to the subject matter, and his skill with words makes this novel shine.

This is a great entry into the "Aliens Take Over the World" genre. If you liked the X-Files, you're gonna love this one.

James Murdoch's web site: http://www.grayapocalypse.com/index.html

Neverland By Douglas Clegg

Reviewed by Nu Yang

Everyone remembers their family vacations from their childhoods, but I bet none of them were like Beau Jackson’s, the young narrator in Douglas Clegg’s horror novel Neverland. The road trip to the family’s summer home on Gull Island starts off with the death of a family pet. If that’s not a bad omen, I don’t know what is. From there, the story’s dark tone only grows more sinister. 


A major part in the story’s darkness resides in Neverland, the shack in the middle of the woods which Beau’s cousin, Sumter, has turned into a clubhouse. The name is an obvious play on Peter Pan’s magical home, where children stay young forever and no grown-ups are allowed. For the kids in Neverland, it’s an escape from the bickering parents and the tensions fueled by alcohol almost every night. But the more time Beau spends in Neverland, the more he discovers the alluring dark power of the hiding spot and its hold on his cousin. Sumter believes a god called “Lucy” lives in Neverland and Lucy demands sacrifices. At one point, Beau even considers that Lucy is short for Lucifer. As their games with Lucy become more frequent, the innocence is lost and the horror only intensifies. 


For a horror novel, the ending was a little too neat and tidy for me. Yes, there was a body count (including a death by teddy bear), and I don’t mind a happy, hopeful ending every now and then, but to me, Beau walked out of what should have been a life-changing situation, a little too calmly. An adult Beau tells the story to the reader, which might have detracted from the immediate danger and action. The only thing we get from Beau’s adulthood is that he has failed and succeeded at various careers and relationships, when perhaps he should have checked into a mental hospital after everything he witnessed as a child that summer. I also wish Clegg had touched upon Beau’s telepathic powers more. It was hinted throughout the story by his shared thoughts and communication with Sumter, but it is never really resolved in the end. A big question was why did Sumter turn out to be the “bad seed” when Beau seemed to possess the same supernatural powers as his cousin?


What Clegg does best is build on suspense. From start to finish, the story is creepy. He does it well by slowing things down and letting whatever horrific image he is describing linger in the reader’s mind (really, the book is worth the read just by the murderous teddy bear alone). Added bonuses to the book are the black and white illustrations by Glenn Chadbourne, which only enhances the chilling reading experience. 

Dying of the Light By George R.R. Martin

Reviewed by Bob Sojka

I was late “discovering” George R. R. Martin, never having come across any of his work until being assigned to read his story The Sand Kings at Odyssey 2008. Before even laying down the syllabus I was predisposed to disliking him. My dad had this prejudice against people who use two middle initials. Dad was very effective at convincing me it was a sign of pomposity--a bias that I fed over the course of my professional life, perhaps selectively. Syllabus or not, this guy wasn’t getting my full attention. After all, there’s a lot to read and write at a six week writer’s workshop. 

Then I read The Sand Kings. Plot refinement was listed as a big need on my Odyssey application. It turns out George R. R. Martin is the go-to-guy for learning about “causal chain.” If I had known some of Martin’s bona fides, I wouldn’t have been so surprised to learn that. He spent 10 years in Hollywood writing and producing for film and television. His credits include contributions to The Twilight Zone, Beauty and the Beast and various other shows. Since leaving tinsel town in the mid 90’s and returning full time to writing, he has produced a bevy of novels and short stories. He is especially known, of late, for his acclaimed series A Song of Ice and Fire, which has been said by some to be a hip and refreshing overhaul of the entire fantasy genre. I’ll let you know if I agree, just as soon as I read those next four or five thousand pages--which I hope to do.

Dying of the Light is a far flung far future story set on the rogue planet, Worlorn, that is sling shotting from the great nothingness between galaxies, around a small star cluster at the edge of the Milky Way, back to the black void. It’s a one time round trip from nothing, to something, back to nothing--a course that parallels the ecology, the cultures and lives of those who have taken up temporary residence on the planet. Martin uses this device to compress the interaction of species, governments, religions, ethical codes, technologies and relationships in a piston-tight reaction vessel that ignites explosively when the spark of an impolitic interloper is introduced into the reaction vessel in the waning days of the planet’s habitation.

If you remember the story of King Arthur’s Court, then you won’t be surprised that the lone female in the story is named Gwen. And you will recognize Arthur in the flawed hero Jaan and Lancelot in the brash intruder Dirk. All the rest of the players are there too, but the jousting is more raw and the code chivalric is far more complex. The consequences of code violation are bizarre and brutal. And so is the unfolding string of tragedies and betrayals. Several plot elements are mirror images of the Arthurian legend from which the novel springs, casting this version of the kingdom in a more somber light, both figuratively and in fact. One twist of poetic justice improves the ending of this Camelot tale that I won’t give away. Read it yourself and see whether it truly satisfies or if, instead, it leaves you, as it did me, mindful about everything you have always learned about the wages of honor and trust, the cost of their loss, and the price of redemption.

Burn By Ted Dekker & Erin Healy

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Burn reads like a slick bestseller, with fast page turns, snappy dialog, and minimal description. This to me is both a turn on (there’s a reason books like this become bestsellers), and a turn off (they all ‘read’ somewhat alike). But the anti-hero protagonist Janeal and her nemesis Salazar Sanso had as interesting a relationship as I’ve read in a long while. Their love/hate conflict kept me reading late into the night.


First off, this is not really a fantasy story, although it 'reads' like a fantasy and contains one all-important fantasy novum without which the plot cannot take place—which is why it qualifies for a review here. But Harry Potter this is not. In fact, the cover indicates it should be shelved along with mysteries and “Christian suspense.” With Biblical undercurrents throughout, Burn deals primarily with temptation, mercy, and redemption, themes which never felt high-handed. The book successfully strikes a balance between message and story. I have never before read Christian suspense, and found this one quite rewarding.


Janael is a headstrong teenage gypsy living in a gypsy camp in the New Mexico desert. Her father is the head of the kumpanía. Like many teens, Janael longs for independence, a nonexistent luxury for young Rom women. And then, beginning with an encounter she has walking alone in the New Mexico desert, a series of choices come hurtling at her. And Janael chooses wrong each time. These wrong choices begin when she is seventeen and continue through 15 tumultuous years. 


We see Janeal hurtling down the wayward path at top speed and we cry stop, stop, STOP, expecting her to learn from her mistakes, to grow up, but instead she hunkers down and convinces herself that she has made all the right choices, necessary choices at least, choices that offer plenty of success, but no happiness.  


Now, I normally don’t like rooting for the bad guy. I like my heroes à la John Wayne, flawed, but good. But because this story telegraphs that it will be about redemption, I was content to wait for the hero to see the error of her ways, and wait, and wait… I won’t tell you when the moment of truth comes, but it comes late. I just about got ready to put the book down when the plot took a turn and hurtled down the final drop of a roller coaster with me happily hanging on.


And speaking of ‘bad guys,’ the evil Salazar Sanso and his sidekick Callista make the perfect counterpoint to Janeal. I looked forward to every chapter with them in it.

There are a few shortcomings to Burn. The “gypsy” culture is not exploited fully, the “set-up” of the initial conflict was not explained to my satisfaction, and a couple of threads are left dangling. Granted, in real life people drop off the radar all the time, but a book with dangling secondaries leaves an unfinished taste in the mouth, like a sundae without the cherry.


All in all, Burn more than just a good read, it is a book that makes you think about choice and consequence, and that is a good thing.

Heartwood By Barbara Campbell

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

(Also, read an interview with the author)


I picked up this book because Barbara is a fellow graduate of the Odyssey Writing Workshop. After wading through the first thirty pages or so, I wondered what compelled me to keep going, why did it seem so slow, and why was I enjoying it


And suddenly I realized: description. Wonderful, rich description. Barbara takes us deep into the world of the Darak the hunter in this Celtic-style fantasy story reminiscent of the best of early 20th century writing. She doesn’t hesitate to dwell on the landscape, a lushly described, sylvan forest, the finest starting off point for any fantasy. 


The mythology and customs of the people come vividly to life. And we get deep inside the characters’ heads--a place many modern authors fear to tread.


The basic tropes reign: Something is wrong with the world; a manipulative Trickster god; a diabolical mage; a reluctant, flawed hero and, of course, a love story. But then, Heinlein asserted that there are only three plots. Christopher Booker suggests seven. Two things make a story original: author voice and character. And Campbell has those in droves.


A quick plot summary: Darak’s tribe worships the gods of the turning of the seasons when the Holly God of winter gives way to the Oak god of summer. But the turn does not happen, Oak is destroyed and winter threatens to reign forever. The heroes must return the Holly god to his body before the change becomes permanent. Each character bears the weight of the plot well, and mixed motivations keep the reader guessing until the end. 


In some ways, Heartwood reads like a romance novel. We get deeper into character than in most fantasy stories, and plot blossoms from character motivations rather than the characters being tools to wander through the plot. I rather like Campbell’s approach; some people will not.


If you enjoy rich description and vivid characterization, this novel is for you. If you want a fast pace with little description to slow you down, there are other choices out there. One word of warning, some of the later scenes are intense.

Open Grave: The Book of Horror By Jeani Rector

Reviewed by Susie Hawes

When I first opened the envelope sent to me by New Myths, I spotted the great cover art, chock full of wonderfully creepy pictures that reminded me of Jose Guadalupe Posada's Day of the Dead  "calaveras" drawings, or something out of an old "Tales of the Crypt" comic. Rendered in black and white, it danced like the followers of St Vitus. I couldn't wait to open the book.

The first tale reminded me strongly of E. A. Poe's Tell Tale Heart. It's a story of sadness, obsession and evolving madness that, in the end, finds the narrator strangely rewarded for his actions, rather than horrifically punished, like a Poe character usually is. I found the ending ironic, satisfying, and eerie, a fun read.

The next story, Ebola Zaire, was disturbing in its reality. Instead of documenting the course of the Ebola virus in clinical terms, the author has chosen to let us see this grim, frightening illness through the eyes of the people affected by it. This was a great choice, and it was well executed. A Case of Lycanthropy I found a bit humorous and ironic in its treatment of the old Werewolf story. 

The Burial was one of my favorites. It follows the experiences of a young naive American boy, and in a sad, frightening way, is a coming of age tale as well as an exploration of the myths and social mores of the people in his community.  I saw the courage and the sense of caring and responsibility to his people exhibited by the young man through his emotions, his actions and the choices that he made. I found him to be a very sympathetic character. The story was very well written.

Under the House started out strong, but the ending left me a bit cold. Although it showed the strength of the child protagonist, the author chose to end the story on a stark, unemotional note that I found unrealistic. Still, the situation the child found herself in and the fear the child experienced were palpable throughout, until that stark ending. I believe this may be a stylistic difference between myself and the author, since the ending endeavored to make a statement about the reality of the child's life, and left hope that the awful circumstances were about to change. I also was impressed by the author's choice to remind the reader that the mother shared some of the blame in the outcome.

Ghoul was my favorite story. The descriptions were vivid, the people were real, and the plot was rather fun. The author manages to add new wrinkles to old plots, always a plus. Monday Night Dive was creepy and the matter of fact ending worked very well. I didn't care too much for the matter of fact ending to Cold Spot, though. It seemed as if the potential for terror was left unmined. Crystal Ball I found over complicated and the conclusion too easy: it left little room for true mystery.

The title novella was sweet. Also complicated, it included strong characterization, good visualization of the settings and interesting characters. The plot twisted and turned, coming to a satisfying conclusion.

All in all, Ms. Rector serves up a highly readable collection in her third novel. I would recommend this as a quick, intelligent read. The author's prose is a bit too repetitive for true smoothness, but the visceral imagery, the strong, sympathetic characterization and the tight plotting make it a strong read. Ms. Rector knows how to build tension, asks interesting questions and clearly has a good feel for sending the kind of message she wishes to send with a story. Her themes are strong and her plotting does not falter.  A fun read. 

When I first opened the envelope sent to me by New Myths, I spotted the great cover art, chock full of wonderfully creepy pictures that reminded me of Jose Guadalupe Posada's Day of the Dead  "calaveras" drawings, or something out of an old "Tales of the Crypt" comic. Rendered in black and white, it danced like the followers of St Vitus. I couldn't wait to open the book.

The first tale reminded me strongly of E. A. Poe's Tell Tale Heart. It's a story of sadness, obsession and evolving madness that, in the end, finds the narrator strangely rewarded for his actions, rather than horrifically punished, like a Poe character usually is. I found the ending ironic, satisfying, and eerie, a fun read.

The next story, Ebola Zaire, was disturbing in its reality. Instead of documenting the course of the Ebola virus in clinical terms, the author has chosen to let us see this grim, frightening illness through the eyes of the people affected by it. This was a great choice, and it was well executed. A Case of Lycanthropy I found a bit humorous and ironic in its treatment of the old Werewolf story. 

The Burial was one of my favorites. It follows the experiences of a young naive American boy, and in a sad, frightening way, is a coming of age tale as well as an exploration of the myths and social mores of the people in his community.  I saw the courage and the sense of caring and responsibility to his people exhibited by the young man through his emotions, his actions and the choices that he made. I found him to be a very sympathetic character. The story was very well written.

Under the House started out strong, but the ending left me a bit cold. Although it showed the strength of the child protagonist, the author chose to end the story on a stark, unemotional note that I found unrealistic. Still, the situation the child found herself in and the fear the child experienced were palpable throughout, until that stark ending. I believe this may be a stylistic difference between myself and the author, since the ending endeavored to make a statement about the reality of the child's life, and left hope that the awful circumstances were about to change. I also was impressed by the author's choice to remind the reader that the mother shared some of the blame in the outcome.

Ghoul was my favorite story. The descriptions were vivid, the people were real, and the plot was rather fun. The author manages to add new wrinkles to old plots, always a plus. Monday Night Dive was creepy and the matter of fact ending worked very well. I didn't care too much for the matter of fact ending to Cold Spot, though. It seemed as if the potential for terror was left unmined. Crystal Ball I found over complicated and the conclusion too easy: it left little room for true mystery.

The title novella was sweet. Also complicated, it included strong characterization, good visualization of the settings and interesting characters. The plot twisted and turned, coming to a satisfying conclusion.

All in all, Ms. Rector serves up a highly readable collection in her third novel. I would recommend this as a quick, intelligent read. The author's prose is a bit too repetitive for true smoothness, but the visceral imagery, the strong, sympathetic characterization and the tight plotting make it a strong read. Ms. Rector knows how to build tension, asks interesting questions and clearly has a good feel for sending the kind of message she wishes to send with a story. Her themes are strong and her plotting does not falter.  A fun read. 

Orson Scott Card: The Authorized Ender Companion By Jake Black

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

I received this book from the publicist with some trepidation. I have a strong aversion to books with such titles as “One Thousand Songs to Hear Before You Need a Hearing Aid” and “Ninety Nine Bedroom Tricks The Italians Haven’t Thought Of.” Those books are usually light of content and make for dull reading. Seeing the encyclopedia-like entries of the Ender Companion, I feared the worst. But my usual book reviewers had begged off The Authorized Ender Companion for various reasons (unfamiliarity with the series, busy with family, etc.) and so I was on my own.


It sat on my coffee table for a few days, trying to make me feel guilty. It might have sat long enough to get buried and forgotten under unread mail but for one fact:  I am a fan of Orson Scott Card. His books are thoughtful. His characters are rounded, his stories engaging. I’ve followed him loosely over the years, reading several of his books and occasionally hearing him on the radio espouse a moderate and independent political viewpoint.  Unlike many modern authors, his books aren’t “anti” anything, aren’t negative, and aren’t filled with hopelessness or anger. 


Let’s make this clear: This book is not written by Card. It’s written by Jake Black, longtime friend of Card and of the Ender Series. Card authorized the book, and his name sells it.


As Black explains in the introduction: “This book is an encyclopedic reference to the events, characters, locations, and technology found within Orson Scott Card’s Ender Universe…It is designed as a resource for fans of the series to augment their understanding of all Ender-related material.


“It is hoped that readers will refer to this book while reading the novels and short stories.”


Ender’s Game is one of the seminal works in science fiction. Based on a short story published in Analog Science Fiction and Fact in 1977, it is about a kid who saves the human race by playing a military simulation game. Who wouldn’t love that? The book Ender’s Game, published 1985, won both the Hugo and Nebula awards.  The follow-up, Speaker for the Dead, won the same two awards the following year.


The fact that the short story was written in 1974 shows how prescient Card was. The Ender Universe has now expanded to comprise 12 short stories or novellas, 9 novels, and 3 comic books. A feature film may be on its way…


Interestingly, Card never planned to have the Ender books become  a series. He says in the introduction:  “…The Ender books are an accidental series. I had no overarching plan. I did not systematically develop the universe in which all the stories take place.


“As a result, the Ender universe was not consistent. At the end of one book, thinking I was wrapping everything up, I would send one character off on a voyage; then in a later book, forgetting I had done so, I would have him conveniently hanging around on earth.


“I would give some obscure character a family, and then later forget that I had done so and give him a different family or make him childless. Then that minor character would become important, and I had to decide which set of facts I was going to work with.”


Most of the Ender Companion is an alphabetical listing of the people, places and things found in the books and short stories. I found myself reading the entries with some pleasure.  It also includes a time line (the series spans 3,000 years), Ender’s family tree, a look at the screenplay development, and the technology Card invented. Finally the book ends with a fascinating series of letter from fans who have been specially touched by Card’s story.


As a writer, I always look for things which can help my craft. The Authorized Ender Companion is a rich resource if you know how to use it. The character sketches are concise.  The encyclopedic entries include small plot summaries. The slang list is a virtual how-to of creating jargon. And most importantly to authors on the cusp of success, the book synopses at the end are studies on how to write query synopsis.


I can only recommend The Authorized Ender Companion to true fans of the Ender Series. But for those fans it will be a valuable resource. It has convinced me to reread the series, and you can bet The Authorized Ender Companion will be sitting by my side as I do.

Dogs By Nancy kress

Reviewed by Bob Sojka

Besides dozens of stories in speculative fiction’s best magazines and 4 volumes of her own stories, Nancy Kress has published 19 novels--3 fantasy and 16 sci-fi. She has won at least one of each of the prestigious Hugo, Nebula, Campbell & Sturgeon awards. And I would say that you can’t call yourself well rounded in contemporary science fiction if you haven’t read her Hugo- and Nebula-winning Beggars in Spain. For years she wrote the “Write Great Fiction” column in Writer’s Digest. She is a popular author on the workshop circuit, teaches literature and writing at universities, and has authored 3 popular books on writing.

I bought Dogs a few days after Nancy told me at Odyssey 2008 that I couldn’t have a talking tree in my story linking Pinocchio to Hitler (Stop laughing!). I’m still working around the obstacles that advice poses, but during that conversation I got to know a lot about the depth and breadth of Nancy’s technical knowledge (which she disclaims with unwarranted humility). Nancy knows a lot about bio-technology; and I think she has a thing about FBI guys--by which I mean she’s got a bunch of FBI buddies that she mines very effectively regarding law enforcement, espionage, terrorism and stuff like that. But if she ever writes some sci-fi linking the Black Death and HIV, I want you future scholars out there to remember that I helped put her on to the idea.

And just as the epidemiology of the Black Death was exacerbated in the Middle Ages by ignorance, distraction, superstition and misdirection, when the dogs in Tyler, Maryland start turning mean it takes a while for the townsfolk to accept what is going on, let alone get a grip on the real causes. Pet politics, property politics, presidential politics, police politics, and plague politics produce a powerful potion of procrastination and paranoia. Meanwhile a tangled drama of terrorism and insanity unravels, exposing tendrils binding the Middle East, Europe, Africa, The Church, and nearly every facet of the public disaster in Maryland to one participant in the melee. 

In this decade defined by our society’s redefinition of the word terror, Dogs is a diorama of how asymmetrical warfare works. You fight your enemy by coaxing them into fighting among themselves. Since you cannot defeat your enemy’s armies, you defeat their comfort and sense of security. You destroy their economy by fooling them into loving their weapons so much that it bankrupts them, while tempting them to turn them on themselves. Insidiously, you make brutal, terrifying and effective weapons of the things that your enemy counts on for daily service, comfort, and even love. But worst of all, you do it without even being present on the battlefield.

If you like multi-layered action stories with characters across the full spectrum of quirky personalities. If you like intrigue and enjoy being confused about who the good guys and bad guys really are. If you like seeing divergent elements of contrasting cultures simultaneously trying to get along while clutching each other’s throats. If you like your sci-fi plots to hinge on a strong and oh-so-possible hard science premise. If you like spies and bubbas and strong sassy female protagonists with a soft spot for guys they ought to brush off. If you like any of these in your science fiction, you won’t be disappointed by Dogs.

Evergreen By Bruce Golden

Reviewed by Carolyn Crow

In light of today’s headlines about global warming, environmental consciousness, and “going green,” Bruce Golden’s newest science fiction novel, Evergreen, couldn’t be more relevant. Fresh from the rousing success of his sci-fi novel Better Than Chocolate, he’s done it again. Evergreen is a vivid, action-packed, entertaining experience based on mankind encroaching on an alien environment.

After deciding at age 18 that he wanted to be a writer, Golden has been writing all of his adult life, working in magazines, radio, and television. His real love has always been speculative fiction. When asked who, or what, influenced his choice to specialize in that particular genre, he responds that first and foremost, he has always loved reading science fiction. “It’s always seemed like a good way to look at the foibles and follies of humankind. You can examine humans through the eyes of an alien or an android, or you can create an entirely new society of civilization, a different future, and see how humans react within it.”

Golden learned to love science fiction and fantasy as a teenager, reading any book he could get his hands on by Robert Heinlein or Robert Howard. He was also strongly influenced as a youngster by Edgar Allan Poe, Rod Serling, and Mark Twain. When asked to classify his style of science fiction, Golden explains he tends to write what is known as “sociological sci-fi,” which places more emphasis on characters and the societies in which they live than on the scientific details concentrated on in “hard sci-fi.”

However, he still has to do quite a bit of scientific research. For his new book, Evergreen, he spent hours in the library and online studying the timber industry, the history of Lake Tahoe, and the culture of the Washoe, a Native American tribe in the region. He also ran parts of the book by experts ranging from physicists and biologists to archaeologists and geologists.

Evergreen is replete with human drama and conflict: obsession, guilt, revenge, redemption, and decisions of life and death. An expedition formed by a heretic priest has boarded a ship to the distant planet Evergreen. That priest is convinced an ancient artifact discovered on the planet can prove his theory about the existence of an extraterrestrial City of God. The expedition includes a renowned archaeology professor, his wife, and her ex-lover, the professor’s son. Also on the ship is a young man wracked by the need for vengeance. He believes that the man responsible for his mother’s death can be found on Evergreen, which is heavily populated by debtors and convicts. Already on Evergreen is an exobiologist studying what may be the first intelligent species discovered outside of Earth.

The novel’s complexly drawn characters not only experience conflict with each other, but with the environment of Evergreen, where a “vegetal consciousness” rules. This collective consciousness, alien to man’s way of thinking, is an intelligence that observes the infestation of humans and contemplates what to do about the incursion. The expedition makes a foreshadowing discovery in a primitive cave painting. Tens of thousands of years old, the painting inexplicably depicts a battle between an ancient primate-like species and the forest itself.

I asked Golden where his inspiration comes from. How does he come up with his ideas, and how do these ideas progress into a book such as Evergreen?

“You can get an idea for a short story and write up a first draft in a day or a week. But books are an accumulation of ideas gathered over months or years. Often they’re put together from unrelated scraps of paper put into my idea files.” He says he likes to think his books are very detailed, whether he’s having fun with some underlying satire as in Better Than Chocolate, or being much more dramatic as in Evergreen.

The idea for Evergreen first began to germinate when he stayed with some friends who live in Lake Tahoe. They told him about some of the area’s history and that inspired him to do more research. “That led to reading theoretical papers on the possibility of intelligent plant life and the physics of creating my own planet, which I’d never done before.” He even incorporated bits related to a group he was part of in the Army. He said that writing a book is the art of putting together a lot of different pieces. For him, the hard part is organizing all those pieces and knowing where he’s going with them.

Golden has a talent for writing extremely realistic and natural-sounding dialogue. I asked him where he learned to write dialogue and how he perfected his skills.

“Though it may be heresy to say so, I think my skill for dialogue comes from being a film fan and growing up with television. Of course, all the books I’ve read play into it too, but movies and TV are dialogue-based, and I tend to think in terms of cinematic scenes when I write. When I create a character, I just seem to have an ear for how he or she should speak. To me, dialogue is all about ebb and flow. Like music, there’s a rhythm to it. The trick is to impart the information readers need to further plot and characterization, while making it all sound like natural conversation.”

What is his advice for aspiring writers?

“Don’t do it. It’ll break your heart and your bank account. Stay away. Be a doctor or lawyer or plumber. No, seriously, you have to love to write you have to be somewhat of a natural storyteller. Then you have to write, write, and write some more. I’ve been working at being a writer for almost 40 years and I’m still learning.”

Golden has had great success with his novels Mortals All and Better Than Chocolate, so I asked what kinds of reactions he’s received from readers. Golden says 99 percent of the feedback he’s gotten on his books has been positive. He’s received several requests from readers to write a sequel to Better Than Chocolate using his character Noah Dane, but he doesn’t have any immediate plans for that. When asked how Evergreen compares to his previous novels, Golden says, “Well, there are no andrones or celebudroids, and there’s very little sex. I would describe Evergreen as a character-based sci-fi adventure. The only negative feedback I got on my first book, Mortals All, was that I used some very familiar sci-fi themes that I didn’t break any new ground. With Evergreen, I believe I’ve done a few things rarely, if ever, touched on in the genre. I’m hoping readers will find it as unique as it is entertaining.”

I couldn’t resist asking him what’s on the agenda for any novels he has in the works.

“I have two books in-progress. In one, an advanced alien intelligence culls two different societies from Earth and transplants them on another world. A thousand years-plus later, we find out how the Viking and Native American cultures have progressed. The other book is an apocalyptic tale I’ve been wanting to write for more than 30 years.”


More by Bruce Golden:

Red Sky, Blue Moon

Monster Town

The Road By Cormac McCarthy

Reviewed by Bob Sojka

Cormac McCarthy is a giant of contemporary literature. His 1979 novel Suttree has been compared to Ulysses and Huckleberry Finn.  So why am I reviewing The Road for NewMyths? Easy. For me, The Road represents the Holy Grail of speculative fiction– the crossover novel. It exists simultaneously in the literary or mainstream world and the speculative fiction world. As such it means huge artistic success, huge readership, and huge dollars. As a devotee of sci-fi, I think The Road also points writer wannabe’s like myself at what almost certainly must be a necessary evolution to avoid genre extinction--namely sci-fi where the writing itself and the literary value, apart from the sci-fi ‘gimmick,’ are the most durable genes in a novel’s DNA.


I’m a sucker for post apocalyptic stories.  Dystopia? Planetary disaster? Collapse?  Yeah, all that; count me in. The Road was subtly evocative of another iconic story, On the Beach, by Nevil Shute. Few apocalyptic novels have balanced utter hopelessness against desperate hope as masterfully as Shute’s novel. Shute used the big picture:  Geo-political theater, romance, fallout from an atomic war, a nuclear submarine’s voyage. McCarthy boiled it all down to a father, his son, a shopping cart and a world composed of ash, cinders, and a few cannibals.


Whereas the title and setting of On the Beach evoked submission and stranding, being washed ashore by irresistible forces and events, The Roadevokes the journey itself, which is a quest against all odds-- persistence against unbearable and unrelenting fatigue. The father and son of this story fight their despair rather than succumb to it. In a denouement that defies unraveling, hope is salvaged from the meager promise that the uncertainty of struggle is at least more comfort than the uncertainty of death.


As an sci-fi reader I initially looked for clues about how the world had become so charred. I wanted to know whose fault this was. Where was the grand cosmic lesson about how we as a species could adjust our machinery or our politics or our religions to avoid this grim scenario? But I was soon more enthralled by the writing. Many passages of The Road come close to prose poetry--the way Emily Dickinson might have written an apocalyptic story. The internal monologues are painted with a palette of rich introspection that challenges the monochromatic world that has been thrust upon the survivors.   


How many times have we been told that sci-fi strives to make the unfamiliar familiar and to make the familiar unfamiliar? McCarthy succeeds famously at this in The Road. What makes it such a successful mainstream/sci-fi crossover is that in blasting away everything familiar on a planetary scale, he puts an unflinching microscope to our humanity. What makes it essential sci-fi is that it is hard to conceive of a work-a-day scenario that would allow the raw examination of love, compassion, devotion, ethics, determination, instinct, fear, courage, trust and redemption that is possible only in the cinder world of The Road. Unlike Orson Scott Card’s Folk of the Fringe, or Jack McDevitt’s Eternity Road, or any of the other dystopic works I treasure, there are no cultural side hypotheses or exercises in technical or social extrapolation in The Road. Instead we look to a few of those hypothetical questions we often throw around without sincerity. If you knew the world would end tomorrow, what would you realize is really important to you? What would love mean to you if an entire planet conspired against your commitment to it? What exactly are the limits of hope? What should they be? If you read The Road, you will have a better idea of some of the answers.

Triangulation: Dark Glass By Peter Butler

Reviewed by Susie Hawes

The 2009 edition of PARSEC Ink’s Annual Confluence of Speculative Fiction

Mr. Butler has done a fine job of bringing in just the right mix of thoughtful comedy, bone-chilling suspense and touching, realistic drama. 

This is a themed anthology.  Inside each story you will find a dark glass in some form, is it a crystal to house evil souls?  A mirror image of our darker soul?  A house for a genie or an old man’s soul?

Mark Onspaugh’s deft comedy, “The Milton Feinhoff Problem”, examines no only the possibility of alternate dimensions, but shines a bright and humorous light on the soul of Everyman.  With clever narration and sharp dialog he paints a satirical portrait of man’s social and political structures that will make the reader give a rueful laugh.  This was the perfect story to start the book with.

“Saint Darwin’s Spirituals”, by D.K.Thompson, is a frightening vision of what might happen should mankind misuse religion to judge each others’ souls.  It’s also the story of one such man, who suffers a crisis of conscience and the solution he finds while hoping to redeem himself, and perhaps, others.

“Imaginal Friends”, by Kenneth B. Chiacchia, takes a look at an alternate society of humans trying to live in the ruins of an alien race.  The aliens are gone now, but their beliefs were so passionate that even death could not strike them from existence.  Told through the eyes of a child, this story is a frightening comment on prejudice.  It makes the reader wonder … if a similar mindset to the one the aliens embraced were found in our society, would we consider their single-minded faith in their belief to be a strength?  A weakness?

Dancing Lessons, by Aaron Polsen, is a creepy little tale.  It’s my personal favorite in this anthology, although, truthfully, with these stories it’s hard to pick just one.  This story takes place in a world where carnivals feature, among other wonders, corpses that dance for the viewers’ amusement. 

I love the line, “… more concerned with ‘could we’ than ‘should we’, they crafted an animaton of metal and flesh.”  At night he’s kept in a coffin filled with pickling substance, and during the day he amazes the carnival’s audiences. 

I found him to be a sad wonder.  In this story a child shows a monster more heart than anyone he’s dealt with before, and finds a way to say goodbye to someone she once loved.

This anthology is strong, funny, dark, and thoroughly amazing.  In one reading, and be sure, I went through it in one reading, I found myself able to look through and look into the dark glass.  Always I saw such wonderful visions, though not always such comfortable ones.  Mr. Butler is moving on now; the next Triangulation anthology will have a new editor. 

I hope they do as fine a job.

Beginnings Middles & Ends By Nancy Kress

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

Author of many acclaimed science fiction books including Beggars in Spain, the recent release Dogs, and my favorite, Probability Space, Nancy Kress wrestled control of the curricula from Jeanne Cavelos for one entire week as Odyssey’s 2008 Writer in Residence.

Beginnings, Middles & Ends is one of her three books on the craft of writing. The others are Dynamic Characters and Characters, Emotion and Viewpoint.

No one is more qualified than Nancy to teach plot. Her fiction writing column has appeared for many years in Writer’s Digest magazine. As a one-time subscriber, I was delighted to find myself having breakfast across from my former print mentor. Nancy was very honest and fair in her feedback. She didn’t hesitate to give her opinion, but tried to guide the writer rather than force him in a particular direction. I was able to do a major rewrite to a flawed story thanks to Nancy’s observations. Perhaps the most entertaining part of the week was when Jeanne’s recommendations were diametrically opposed to Nancy’s.

Beginnings, Middles & Ends deals with plot. It is a thin book, packed tight with information, rather like a marathon runner’s body. In fact, my only complaint is that it is too thin. Nancy expects her students to work at learning, providing one apt example of most everything, and leaving it to the reader to find more.

That is the best way to learn, but sometimes I like to be spoon fed. I wish she had made a companion book entirely of examples--call it a case study.

Oddly enough, the book is divided into three sections. I found the “Beginnings” section the most useful. Just as most writers have trouble nailing down their middles, part two seems to meander from one topic to another. The gem here is a separate chapter called Under Development, Your Character at Midstory. This deals primarily with motivation, something both authors and characters struggle with.

If you’ve worked through Beginnings and Middles, then the Endings section serves as a capstone. It isn’t lengthy: because by staying on track through the first two sections there just aren’t that many ways to go wrong. Your conclusion will be “surprising but inevitable,” as all good endings must be.

Beginnings, Middles & Ends is not specifically for writers of sci-fi or fantasy. In fact, most of the examples come from mainstream books, probably a reflection of the diverse audience Nancy has conquered through Writer’s Digest. And, although sparse, the examples are priceless. I’d recommend it to anyone looking for help with plots.

Imola By Richard Satterlie

Reviewed by I.E. Lester

Sequels to horror novels are an odd breed. They have advantages if you liked the first book, but they can miss the sense of trepidation you get when you read a "new" book. After all, if you have already met the big-bad you know what it can do - and where's the fun in that?

Here, the big-bad is a shy, mentally ill young woman, whose alternate personality is an intelligent, driven, man-hating murderer. At the end of the first book (Agnes Hahn, Medallion Press 2008, 978-1933836454) she'd been caught by the joint efforts of Jason Powers, a newspaper reporter and Art Bransome, the local sheriff.

This book starts with Agnes (and her alternate personality Lilin) living in a mental asylum (the "Imola" of the title). However, and somewhat inevitably, Lilin takes control. She escapes and sets of to gain revenge on the man who killed the real Lilin, and caused Agnes's madness - their father. And she's not above a bit of casual mayhem along the way.

On the face of it, this book is slow to get going. Over one hundred pages in and Agnes is still a patient in the asylum. This kind of thing is okay if you are writing a typical Stephen King length novel, but this is barely half King's normal length.

But for that it reads well. The inmates in Imola, and their afflictions are presented well. There's a good mix of lunacy - not just cell after cell of Hannibal Lector wannabes. It's interesting but somewhat overdone. Half the number of pages could have set the scene just as effectively.

There are odd interludes of unnecessary back-story. The few pages bringing Jason Powers' ex-wife into the story are fairly pointless and serve only to interrupt the narrative. Likewise Powers' brother felt little more than a distraction, a forced insertion into the plot to provide a lead on Agnes/Lilin's trail that could have been introduced as easily without the family angst angle.

There are also many stereotypical aspects to this story - exaggerated by its sequel nature. Linked twins, a schizophrenic killer who debates her actions amongst herself, sex and murder intertwined, cop/reporter 

interaction, etc, etc. But there is also a decent story and some likeable, if familiar characters.

For its faults though this is an entertaining read. In many ways this is because of  Satterlie's comfortable writing style and understated violence. He leaves the really gory stuff up to our imaginations.

He plays well on some of our fears. Escaped lunatics feature in many urban myths. Similarly to always worrying if there is something in the darkness, we fear insanity and the acts that the insane are capable of performing.

It's not a book to set your world on fire, but it will entertain. And at the end of the day that's not a bad thing.

Mars Life By Ben Bova

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

(For those of you paying attention, Ben Bova was not an Odyssey lecturer. Due to publication dates, I decided to switch the order of some reviews).

With over 115 books published, Ben Bova is one of the most respected and prolific science fiction writers today. He is best known for integrating suspense and believable, near-future science. And, in what may be encouraging to aspiring science fiction writers, his degrees are in journalism, communications and education—not science.

Mars Life chronicles the struggle of scientists studying Martian artifacts on Mars while earth struggles to cope with global warming. The characters are real, with quirks, passions, goals and flaws. Love is a constant complication. Bova even manages to interest us in something as mundane as project funding.

This book reminds me of Michael Crichton’s State of Fear. Both use short, pithy chapters. Both deal with science politics taken from today’s headlines. In Crichton’s book, radical environmentalists use terrorism and fear mongering about global warming to increase their political and financial clout. In Bova’s book, radical Christian fundamentalists use terrorism and fear mongering to try to shut down the exploration of Mars. Here, global warming has already come to pass. Governments struggle with the massive flooding, while on Mars the protagonists find evidence of intelligent life. The New Morality decides that if life once existed on Mars, their beliefs would be forfeit. They seek to deny funding for the mars project.

The concept is interesting. Unfortunately, Bova holds the New Morality in contempt. Every scene explaining their point of view involves supporters of Mars exploration discussing how ridiculous the New Morality is. Even the newly elected, New Morality administration calls his constituents “Bible-thumping zealots.” Reading Mars Life is like discussing politics at a party where everyone has exactly same opinion. The book would have been so much more effective if it even a single New Morality character had been given a voice. Bova should have taken a page from Crichton’s manual and given a fair hearing to protagonist and antagonist alike.

Mars Life is third of the series with Mars and Return to Mars. Readers will have no trouble jumping into the series with this book, though it cannot be said to stand alone. The conclusion doesn’t resolve anything, and left me feeling unsatisfied.

Urban Gothic By Brian Keene

Reviewed by I.E.Lester

For six college-kids from out of town there are few worse places for the car to break down than in a run down ghetto district of Philadelphia. However this, being a horror novel, nothing as ordinary as an attack by 

gangbangers is likely to happen, even though that is exactly what the six expect when they are approached by a group of black youths.

Fearing the worst but not waiting long enough to see if their fears are justified (they are not) they run, abandoning their car, and seek refuge in an old, dilapidated and seemingly abandoned Victorian house. The one thing they didn't count on is being in far greater danger inside the house than they could ever have been on the street. This house is inhabited, and as Brian Keene is the author, you can take it as read it's not by a kindly old couple likely to dote on the incomers.

Within moments the six are reduced to four when the first person/creature they encounter is a deformed giant with a very large hammer. This is just the start as the four remaining friends find themselves in a nightmare of mutation, slime, infection and bodily fluids.

Brian Keene knows how to write stories that will turn your stomach - he's proven that over his career. But in this book, he's taken the gross-out factor to a whole new level. It's the literary equivalent of someone using your face as a testing ground to see which out of a various of bodily secretions and foul-smelling slimes will slither down the slowest.

However it's not an out and out gorefest of a book. There may be scenes of total out-and-out horror; there may be sufficient deaths to keep terror-fans happy, but despite all the slime it's not over-the-top. There is a strong story here - a simple one yes, you can't claim complexity in any tale you can sum up in six words ("teenagers versus mutants locked house showdown," if you're interested) - but it's relentless. Keene just doesn't let up.

Now all this action and gooey-ness does come at a bit of a price. The characters here are very much a secondary consideration. This is about terror plain and simple, and Keene has shied away from painting too much  backstory. But this makes sense. Why, you don't exactly need to know any more about the six than they are in the shit (figuratively and, at times, literally). He leaves it to the reader to know what teenagers are like - we can fill our own details in.

This is not a novel for the squeamish, nor for the dark fantasy vampire-angst market. Keene has once again given us a hard-hitting, no-apologies-offered, horror novel. And for that we can only be grateful.

It Came from Schenectady By Barry B. Longyear

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

“Stories are about people, and people are about feelings.”

-Barry Longyear, Odyssey, 2008

 

The above mantra has guided Barry’s 30 year career through the highs (winning the Hugo, Nebula, and John W. Campbell awards all in one year) to the lows (contemplating suicide that same year). It Came from Schenectady, named after one of the short stories in this collection, embodies that same mantra. These sci-fi stories have characters with feelings, powerful and real.

 

Many of the plots put a single protagonist and antagonist in a contained environment where one must somehow vanquish the other--unless they choose to work together. His most famous work, Enemy Mine, takes that premise to a beautiful extreme (not included here). These stories are of the same caliber. Barry eschews foregone conclusions--expect surprises.

 

The conflicts herein are reminiscent of the conflicts Barry has had with himself. In fact, he urges aspiring writers to mine themselves for inspiration. “You are your only source of real feelings. All you’ve got is your own experience to draw upon.”

 

Considered the Ernest Hemmingway of the Science Fiction community, Barry has overcome many obstacles. Although he doesn’t hesitate to share his experiences, I don’t feel that privilege extends to me. I will say only that if you get a chance to hear him speak, by all means do so. He will inspire you. He will convince you that your own troubles are littler than you imagined.

 

The story lengths range from novella, Homecoming, to two flash fiction pieces. My personal favorite is The House of If. Here, a psychologist/inventor has created a devise which puts convicted criminals through the psychological agony of years in prison in the space of a few minutes: all the punishment, loneliness, and perhaps rehabilitation without wasting a lifetime. The devise is tested by a world renowned escape artist with a grudge against prisons of any kind. The result is dynamite. The House of If has been optioned four times by Hollywood, though never produced.

 

I can only imagine what kind of butchery they might do to it. By all means, read the stories before Hollywood decides to produce them.

 

More on Barry can be found at: http://www.barrylongyear.net/

The Tenth Planet By Dean Wesley Smith & Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Reviewed by Bob Sojka

In June 2009 I attended a workshop by Kristine Kathryn Rusch and Dean Wesley Smith called the Kris and Dean Show. It was outstanding. Kris and Dean have writing credits six arms long, both under their own names and using a garden salad of pseudonyms. Dean has written dozens of media tie-in novels across a wide spectrum, including Star Trek, Smallville, Xmen, Spiderman, Men in Black, Quantum Leap and others. He founded the Sci-Fi magazine Tomorrow Speculative Fiction before selling it to Algis Budrys. Plus, Dean edited ten volumes of Strange New Worlds, the ostensibly Star Trek-spawned anthology series that opened the doors to many writers across a spectrum of speculative fiction. Kris has also written a host of novels in fantasy and science fiction and appeared in several anthologies. Both Kris and Dean write extensively in non-SF genres and in mainstream formats as well, under their pseudonyms. I avidly read Kris and Dean’s magazine Pulphouse back in the day, and grieved when they decided to shut it down to have more time for their own writing (How Selfish!). It was one of the best speculative fiction magazines ever, and won a World Fantasy Award in 1989. I read a couple of Kristine’s Retrieval Artist series a few years ago, but I decided I needed to read some of their work again before getting to the workshop so I would have a taste of their style again before arriving. I stumbled across The Tenth Planet in a bookstore. It is co-authored by Kris and Dean, drawing from a story by Rand Marlis and Christopher Weaver.


Since Kris and Dean are a highly collaborative author couple, both in their writing and in all the various writing-linked activities they undertake, I figured The Tenth Planet would be an efficient, or at least expedient, choice. I could also to see whether writing collaborations (four-way collaboration in this case) really work. Being a retired soil scientist, I was absolutely hooked when I skimmed a few pages and found a soil science tie-in to the story premise. We pedologist/edaphologist types lay awake nights wondering why more world literature hasn’t emerged from the fertile horizons of the earth’s solum that sustains terrestrial life as we know it. OK, I apologize. But when will I get another chance to plug my old profession to all you literati?


The Tenth Planet opens with the story protagonist, archeologist Edwin Bradshaw, leading a small dig by his college class at one of his favorite Oregon coast sites. He is also having a bit of a pity party contemplating his second tier professional status resulting from his audacious claim early in his career that a dark layer of hematite-like sandy material, found at a number of western hemisphere sites, looked disturbingly similar to nano-machines. The mainstream of his profession belittled his claim as silly and insufficiently documented. The smack down damaged Bradshaw’s confidence as much as his reputation, to the point that he quit defending his hypothesis against attacks from the mainstream. 

Unbeknownst to Bradshaw, Leo Cross, an Archeological Carl Sagan of sorts, has been collecting data for more than a decade that is disturbingly similar to Bradshaw’s. It was a curiosity that he was slow to delve into for the obvious risk that Bradshaw’s experience exemplified. All that changed when a deep space probe abruptly quit transmitting at the edge of the solar system. Abruptly, we learn, is a nuanced word, since signal analysis of the microseconds before the probe’s shutdown reveals evidence that sets Cross on a path that resurrects and redeems Bradshaw’s career, engenders a relationship between Cross and Britt Archer, head of NASA, and makes the trio the leaders of an unwished for, but darling sub-bureaucracy of the White House.


The Tenth Planet reads a little like a mystery novel, with the unlikely team of sleuths faced not merely with figuring out if a “crime” has been committed, but how often, why, to what consequence in the past, and with what consequence for the future. If this weren’t enough, their findings begin taking on increasingly higher stakes. Life and death decisions pile on top of one another as sci-fi archeological novel turns galactic thriller. I wish I could have helped with a few of the soil science fine points that had me grimacing a time or two, although never enough to throw me out of the story.


Through deft plotting and a gradual (scientifically believable) story reveal, the authors build tension to a grim but tenuously hopeful climax. Many lives are saved and many lives are lost, and one of the cleverest technical hooks for a sequel I’ve read in a long time is exposed in the final paragraphs. The Tenth Planet is the first book of a trilogy (followed by The Tenth Planet: Oblivion and The Tenth Planet: Final Assault). I’ll have the final two books with me in October when I spend two more weeks with Kris and Dean in their Master Workshop. The things I’ll do to get a couple of books personally autographed!

An Excess of Enchantments By Craig Shaw Gardner

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

An Excess of Enchantments is the second in the second of three trilogies in the Ebenezum chronicles. In other words, book five, or book two in The Ballad of Wuntvor.

Got that?

No matter. If you have enjoyed books 1-4 in the chronicles of Ebenezum, read on. If you haven’t started yet, I’d recommend beginning with A Malady of Magicks. If that doesn’t hook you, you are reading in the wrong genre.

An Excess of Enchantments follows the adventures of apprentice Wuntvor as he tries to convince Mother Duck, a powerful sorceress, to help his master Ebenezum in a war against demons. Unfortunately for Wuntvor, Mother Duck’s only concern is to force travelers to act out her badly written fairy tales.

Craig is a very funny man. He and Terry Pratchett have a pact never to read each other’s work so they can’t be (successfully) accused of stealing each other’s ideas. And if you are one of Pratchett’s myriad fans, you will surely enjoy Craig Shaw Gardner as well.

Craig lectured at Odyssey on humor in speculative fiction. Among other things, he explained the comedian’s Rule of Three:

The first time you hear a joke it is funny.

The second time you hear a joke it is mildly amusing.

The third time you hear a joke it is hilarious.

Certainly Saturday Night Live follows this Rule. And Craig’s right, although intellectually a joke can’t get funnier the more times you hear it, if you hear the same joke ad nauseam it becomes imperative that you repeat it to as many friends as possible. 

An Excess of Enchantments takes this Rule a little too far. It is rather repetitious and at times the humor feels forced. The silly characters and situations carry the reader through the book’s short length (180 pages) but couldn’t hold up for much longer. It is the type of book best enjoyed on an airplane and left behind in the back seat pocket. Though perhaps if you read it several times, mildly amusing would indeed become hilarious.

Craig explained that he wasn’t really planning on doing a second trilogy, but the publisher wanted him to. The same thing happened to Stephen R. Donaldson with the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever. And, as with Donaldson, by the time Craig had An Excess of Enchantments written, he knew the publisher would want a third trilogy, so the last three books are crafted with more thought.

Although An Excess of Enchantments isn’t the strongest book in the series, I’d still recommend it to anyone looking for an easy smile. 

Black Magic Woman By Justin Gustainis

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes

2008 Odyssey graduate Justin Gustainis had already published two novels before attending the six week science fiction and fantasy workshop. His first book, The Hades Project, was reviewed in an earlier issue of New Myths, and an interview with Gustainis appears here.

Black Magic Woman has investigator Quincey Morris and his white witch partner Elizabeth Chastain investigating a series of magical attacks against an innocent family. They travel across the country, gathering clues as to why a black witch might wish to attack this particular family – and how to stop her. As you might guess, ancient curses have everything to do with it.

Morris is a distant relative of Van Helsing of Dracula fame, while Chastain is a powerful white witch. Chastain is the more endearing of the two, and in fact in the third book will receive equal billing with Morris.

Parallel to the heroes’ investigations, two cops are investigating the ritual murders of children, which always seem to take place next to water. A troubled South African cop named Garth Van Dreenan teams up with a doubting Dale Fenton, FBI to track down the murderers. It turns out they are harvesting the children for the black witch’s final curse.

It is a very fun book, though I would not call it a perfect book. On the positive, the characters are engaging, especially the White Witch, the story is interesting and the action never lets up. Gustainis has developed extensive backgrounds for all his characters. Every major character, hero and villain, gets his turn carrying the point of view. On the negative side: The police officers’ investigation never satisfactorily links up to the Morris investigation (turns out the police officer subplot was added to meet page requirements from the publisher); chapter one seems out of place because the vampire villains never make a repeat appearance; and the resolution is a near deus ex machina ending, though I will not give it away.

Perhaps the ultimate test of this kind of book is whether or not you want to read more. The answer here is a resounding yes. Quincey and Elizabeth are heroes worth quite a few more adventures.

The Hades Project By Justin Gustainis

Reviewed by Susie Hawes

Deep in the jungles of Vietnam, Michael Pacilio thought he’d seen the deepest atrocity a man can witness . . . and he was right.

He knew this, because he saw it again in present day Fairfax, Virginia.  Ten dead bodies.  Ten viciously tortured and murdered scientists in a government-funded scientific lab, horrendous reminders of the nightmare he endured in Vietnam. 

Justin Gustainis tells a tale of demonic possession, serial rape/murder and impending doom.  Pacilio, the main character, is a government troubleshooter out to stop the killings, but first he must determine the murderer’s identity and why he has chosen to surface at this time.  Asmodeus, the demonic antagonist, is mentioned in myth, lore and in the Catholic bible.  How can the human Pacilio stop Asmodeus from carrying out his infernal directive?

For tense, page-turning action, horror with a bite and characters a reader can feel, this novel is a treat.  For a first novel, it is impressive.  Mr. Gustainis keeps us on the edge of our seat as his characters move toward a powerful climax. 

The depth of characterization makes us care what happens to Pacilio.  Internal logic, often neglected in a story so fast moving, runs true in this novel and the pacing runs  smooth and even.  I could wish for a more in depth examination of the myths behind the demon, Asmodeus, but the plot is consistent with the sexual nature of the demon’s mythos.

There is gore and sexual carnage aplenty, but not all of the sex in this story is violent. The characters interact as anyone would under these circumstances and without giving away too much, I can say there is a bit of erotic (and tender) lovemaking.  This serves to contrast the brutality of the demon’s murders while establishing the humans as sympathetic people.  The author has used sexuality well; both the violence, which is not glorified, but merely stated, and the lovemaking are appropriate, adding to the depth of the story. 

The author spices the plot up with an additional character, the Reverend Tom Pasco, a hypocritical fool so greedy for power that he will betray all of mankind to gain it.  Wonderfully written, this character is the kind of person we love to hate.  He adds a dimension of uncertainty to the story.  Can Pacilio survive Pascoe’s manipulations long enough to confront the demon?

The Hades Project is a strong first novel, full of visceral scenes and taut suspense, intelligent and thought-provoking.  There is a parallel between the demon’s advent in this novel and the development of the atomic bomb.  What have the scientists in Fairfax discovered?  How will mankind be affected?

The Hades Project is a horror book with a brain, but look out; this one has teeth, too. 

Jen-Zen & the One Shoe Daries By Julie Shapiro

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes 

(http://www.julieannshapiro.com)


Although they say that if you leave a million monkeys in a room full of typewriters long enough they will eventually write the entire works of Shakespeare, I can’t imagine that they would come up with Jen-Zen and the One Shoe Diaries. This is a singular book, original in voice, thoughtful in tone.

The writing flows across the page like rivulets in a downpour and paints a picture in diagonal flow. Oftentimes the sentences seem to be heading into nonsense but suddenly veer back to surprise and delight. After an hour I got up and smeared Shea butter on my forehead for fear I would wrinkle from all the eyebrow lifting.

If you haven’t yet got it, this book is worth reading for the prose alone.

So how about the story? As a plot-loving reader (I hardly noticed that the characters of The Da Vinci Code were flat) I generally judge a book by its story. In this case, Brad the photographer is in love with Jen-Zen, a poet. Brad is obsessed with photographing single shoes that he finds abandoned in strange places. The shoes seem to be telling him something beyond mere complaints of athlete’s foot. Jen-Zen has had an accident and is trying to communicate from somewhere beyond. Can Brad use his photographer’s art to rescue his true love?

Although the term magic realism is batted about with near indifference to meaning, I recently ran across a definition by Janet Burroway in Writing Fiction:

Magic Realism uses the techniques and devices of realism-verisimilitude, ordinary lives and setting, familiar psychology-and introduces events of impossible nature, never leaving the tone and techniques of realism.

A perfect definition for Jen-Zen and the One Shoe Diaries.

It is interesting - borderline eerie - that while looking for a publisher Julie ran across a real photographer named Randy Hamilton who was making a book of his own called The One Shoe Diaries featuring photos of single shoes. His work can be found at (http://www.oneshoediaries.com). Fortunately the encounter was a positive one and Julie and Randy may pool their resources to promote their respective books.

Julie Shapiro is the Debussy of word composition – stretching the limits of prose (and comma use) nearly to the breaking point, but taking the reader along for a wonderful ride in the process. Julie is best known for her flash fiction, and has published dozens of flash stories and taught workshops throughout Southern California. In working the short shorts, she has mastered the craft of creating mood and imagery using scant words.

Jen Zen and the One Shoe Diaries will be released by SynergEbooks.com in downloadable format as both an ebook and CD-Rom in October of 2008 (RELEASE DATE, http://www.synergebooks.com/ebook_oneshoediaries.html) and trade paperback (December 2008 from SynergEbooks.com).

Julie’s web site is (http://www.julieannshapiro.com).

Deviations Series: Covenant (2007) & Appetite (2009) By Elissa Malcohn

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes 

Covenant begins with TripStone, of the Masari people, hunting on Meat Day. She is a cannibal, and the members of the Yata peoples are her prey. In the world of Elissa Malcohn’s Deviations the Masari people cannot survive any other way--they have evolved to require Yata flesh the way some herbivores have evolved to digest only one kind of plant.

That is the Covenant between the peoples, one is the hunter and the other the god-providers. The ritual sacrifice has developed into a religion where the Yata are worshiped as gods by the very people who kill them. If it were any other way the Masari would have hunted the Yata to extinction, thus sealing the fate of both peoples.

TripStone is successful and kills the willing victim Ulik in ritualistic fashion. She skins him and preserves his body parts for all their valuable uses. And then she prepares to meet his family to explain to them how honorably he died and to give them his last words.

If this sounds like the kind of story that turns the stomach, you’re partially right, but in a good way. At times gut-wrenching and always thought provoking, the Deviations series manages almost to rise to the level of important literature. It is sure to move you. It may offend you. Unfortunately, stylistic weaknesses make it difficult reading; only a determined reader will read cover to cover and reap the rewards within.

First, let me tell you what’s right about Deviations. The characters are complex and multi-layered. How often have you read stories about wooden characters that only had one goal (save the princess!)? Everyone in Deviations has multiple and often contradictory motivations. They have to make hard choices. Sometimes they choose wrong.

The world is rich, believable and consistent. The situation is brimming with potential. And I, for one, have never read anything quite like it.

But those stylistic weaknesses...

Telling, telling, telling. Did someone mention showing? Oh, and more telling.

Malcohn can’t resist fleshing out her world (sorry, easy pun) with paragraph after paragraph of back story. At the lowest point, she actually tells us what percent of Masori children attempt to abstain from eating Yata meat. Every category is explained, from those that try for a little while to those that die of starvation. Writing 101: Dramatize this. If you can’t, have a character read it somewhere or explain it to another character through dialog. If it is not important, kill it.

Along those same lines, many of the most interesting scenes are summarized rather than dramatized.

As Covenant progresses the story grows more complex: a Masori named Ghost is trying to find a cure for the Masori addiction to the Yata, making him a criminal in both societies. TripStone is one of several Masori who brings Ghost Yata meat to keep him alive, a gift which he both needs and despises. Meanwhile, a renegade Yata army has formed which vows to destroy the Masori and swing the balance of power to the “gods.” Although they are nowhere near the hunters of the Masori, they have developed a secret weapon, a repeating rifle.

The story represents the end of an era, when the relationship between Masari and Yata becomes irrevocably changed. As in any such period, there are constituencies which profit from the status quo and others trying to capitalize on the chaos before a new equilibrium is reached.

The ending of Deviations: Covenant is satisfying if you make it that far. As I said, it can be tough going.

The recent release Deviations: Appetite begins just after Covenant. A terrible war has just taken place. The Masori people have been badly damaged, and now, for lack of Yata victims, they are starving. The Yata too are suffering. 

The balance has been upset and the consequences reverberate throughout the land, a land which TripStone, Ghost, and the other protagonists find is more complex than they thought. It turns out the Covenant has not been respected to the degree they thought.

Appetite is an easier book to read than Covenant, Malcohn’s hand feels more sure, and because (presumably) the reader has been here before we aren’t subjected to nearly as much “telling.”

Elissa Malcohn has created a richly textured world. Clearly she understand individual and group psychology, and her grasp of mankind’s history shows clearly in the make-believe Masari-Yata world.

All in all, the Deviations series offers rich rewards, but falls short of its potential for entertainment.

Warbreaker By Brandon Sanderson

Reviewed by Scott T. Barnes 

Warbreaker is nearly unique in the pantheon of fantasy novels. A stand alone. Yes, somehow Brandon Sanderson convinced TOR to release a book with no plans for a sequel. 


The plot? One might say that Warbreaker is about a kingdom, a religion, and two conflicting ways of life. It is what Orson Scott Card calls a milieu story, where exploring the world is of primary importance. In this case, the “world” is the intricately created culture of Hallandren and its capital T’Telir. 


A princess from neighboring Idris is sent against her will to be the wife of the God King in Hallandren. This upsets the whole applecart of Hallandren politics, and the story follows. The gods, the mercenaries, and the priests are plotting. Those who aren’t trying to profit are trying to survive. People are forced to use evil means to achieve noble ends. And, as the story progresses, the protagonists are forced to confront their own hypocrisies.


The story is told from multiple points of view, my favorite being the cynical god Lightsong, who doesn’t really believe he is a god. Each viewpoint is unique. Some are unreliable to the point that they themselves don’t understand their own motivations. 


Lightsong is one of the Returned: mortals who died in some heroic way and so returned to perfect health, perfect bodily shapes, and powerful magic. They are revered by the common folks as gods. The only thing they lack is a memory of who they were before, although they retain their previous life’s skills. The Returned appear to be the primary political players in Hallandren, but are they? The priests seem to be able to manipulate the Returned, even the God King, at will.


The city where most of the action takes place,  T’Telir, reminded me of another famous city created by one of the genre’s masters, Fritz Leiber. That city was named Lankhmar and had its own pantheon, guilds, and gods. One of Warbreaker’s protagonists, Vasher and his deadly sword Night Blood, also recalled Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser. However, that was only a passing recollection. The Tone of Warbreaker is uniquely its own. The Leiber books are more poetic than Warbreaker, but no more complex or readable.


Color is magic in Warbreaker, and BioChromatic Breath its source. Each person is born with one breath and can pass on this breath only voluntarily. This, of course, creates scarcity. Some people, including the Returned, have hundreds, even thousands of breaths. There are several levels of awakening, and mortals can only get Breaths by persuading someone to give theirs up.


Sound like a role playing game? According to the press release accompanying Warbreaker, complex magic systems are a trademark of Sanderson’s books. I haven’t read the others, but the system of breaths and colors is clearly inspired by gaming. It wouldn’t surprise me of someone is busy codifying the rules to Warbreaker at this very minute.


Warbreaker is told with plenty of humor and flair. The only disappointment was to have to turn the last page, it’s a great introduction to a very talented writer.

Oh, and did I mention that Sanderson was chosen to finish the Wheel of Time saga? That is sure to bring Sanderson’s buzz to a fever pitch as the first volume of A Memory of Light is scheduled to be released on November 3, 2009.

Dawn of the Deadly Fang Lycanthrope Trilogy, V2 By T. James Logan

Reviewed by Donna Glee Williams

Multiple personality syndrome strikes again: Author Travis Heermann has split off a new sub-personality, T. James Logan. (Is there a “James Tiberius” embedded in there somewhere?)  T. James came to Earth to take care of the YA side of the author’s list, while Travis will hold onto his adult fiction.

 

Meanwhile—pay attention; this gets a little complicated—Heermann’s Wild Boys (whose protagonist was actually a wild girl) has shape-shifted into a new identity, Night of the Hidden Fang, and spawned a sequel, Dawn of the Deadly Fang.  Together, the books now comprise Volumes One and Two of the planned T. James Logan Lycanthrope Trilogy.  (While it is possible to read Dawn of the Deadly Fang on its own, without having read Volume One, why would you do that?)  The author is an acknowledged fan of George Romero’s classic triptych Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, and Day of the Dead, and you can read his homage not only in its cinematic storytelling and over-the-toptitude, but also in these titles.

 

Dawn keeps the first book’s teen girl hero, raw-meat-eating Mia O’Reilly, along with cameo appearances by her FBI father, her CIA aunt, her gun-toting, martial-arts Japanese mom, and her beloved Shar-Pei, Deuce, as well as serious cast of thousands: Mia’s high-school classmates, packs of militia werewolves,  platoons of law-and-order personnel, and assorted bystanders.  (Bring a notepad.)

 

There’s a lot going on in this book: Werewolves, of course.  (In a series called Lycanthrope Trilogy, you were expecting maybe orcs?) Martial arts.  Naked bodies.  Impending apocalypse. Young love. Racial supremacy terrorists.  Teen outsider angst, as well as teen relief at finally finding your peeps.  Chase scenes. A boyfriend who can’t be kissed because of some stupid virus.  Fight scenes.  Bigger fight scenes.  Really big fight scenes.  A teen girl superhero.  A nuclear attack on Washington.  Parent/teen conflict.  A mass kidnapping.  A heroic rescue.  

 

And although a lot of these strands are delicately treated traditional mainstays of young adult novels, Dawn of the Deadly Fang is not the kind of book you will ever find on a high school library shelf.  There is something about the way it savors a sort of sensuality of violence make it more the kind of YA book that is handed around by kids who hang out in comix stores, watch horror movies, and play bloody video games:

 

Kids screamed.

Dalton screamed, and the taste of bile filled the back of his throat at the way Austin’s body dropped like 

ragdoll.

Austin’s mother shrieked, “No!” She threw herself at the woman with the pistol.

The woman shot her. The bullet spun Austin’s mother in a pirouette that left a fine spray of blood across the front of the school bus as she fell. She cried out pitifully as she tried to crawl under the bus. A bullet to the back of her head halted her progress.

So, no School Library Journal “Best Book” here—Dawn of the Deadly Fang is for readers who prefer their 

meat raw and bloody—tartare, if possible.



Monster Town By Bruce Golden

Reviewed by William Santorik

If you'd like to travel to a place unlike any you've ever visited, take a trip to Monster Town. It's just around the corner from dark humor, up the road from reality. Bruce Golden's newest book not only isn't like any of his others, and it's not really comparable to any I've read before.


Envision a world where the old movie monsters of black and white horror cinema were actually real people (real monsters?)--actors who played themselves in those films. What if those melodramatic flicks lost their popularity and the monsters had to find other jobs to support themselves? What if they were shunned by their fellow movie-makers and took up residence in a town just outside of Hollywood? In the world Golden has created, all of this has happened to create the setting for Monster Town. But movie monsters aren't the only target of his literary wit (and I use the term "literary" in its most basic form).


Golden has also taken on the genre of the hard-boiled detective story, and the film noir which evolved from it. Monster Town is narrated in first person

by private detective Dirk Slade, and it's in his narration that this story reveals its true self. If you listen carefully, you can hear it in the book's first two lines.


It was a hard wet rain that beat an ominously staccato rhythm on the roof of my Packard as I drove to the outskirts of the city. Thunder rumbled overhead like a bowling ball sliding down a corrugated tin roof, and I imagined the ferocious whipcracks of lightning tearing great rents in time and space.


A "hard wet rain" is the first signal that Golden is going to push the boundaries of that old hard-boiled narration with satire.  A "bowling ball sliding down a corrugated tin roof" is the metaphoric leap past the perimeter of those boundaries, and "ferocious whipcracks of lightning tearing great rents in time and space" warn the reader to expect otherworldly encounters.


The tenor of this tale lies in its subtly satirical presentation, and, of course, its quirky characters. Sure, it's funny to see the Hunchback of Notre Dame tending bar and Frankenstein's monster as a high school football coach, but the way Golden writes it, there's no silliness. He plays the plot straight.


Initially, Slade is hired to find the missing son of the town's wealthiest entrepreneur--one Vladamir Prince. Prince is better known by his cinematic name--Dracula. But Slade's search for the missing teen gets sidetracked when his own best friend, a reporter, is murdered. The quest to find whodunit evolves into much more, including a secret which endangers the life of every citizen in Monster Town. That "danger" is taken right out of today's headlines, but

revealing it here would spoil the intrigue.


Along with the usual suspects one would expect from a monstrous lineup (Wolfman, Leech Woman, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde), comes the character of Kink. She's a fairy with a tarnished reputation, formerly a star of movies for kids, now ostracized from Hollywood and banished to Monster Town because of a sex scandal. She tags along with her friend Slade on occasion, stealing every scene she's in with her hilarious in-your-face personality.


Humor, however, especially satire, is tricky thing. Sometimes your take on it aligns with the author's, and sometimes you just don't get it. In this particular case, Monster Town worked for me, whether it was the often over-the-top narration or the hard-boiled clichés that were twisted just so.


Night crept over the city like it was slithering out of the grave. The storm had moved on and there was a stillness in the air that wasn’t altogether natural.

But I was in Monster Town, and strange was always on the menu.


Of course, what would a private dick be without a dangerous dame in his life. For Slade it's a torch singer who once was Wasp Woman. He

doesn't totally trust her, but he's smitten just the same.


It wasn't just her appearance that had changed. She came out of that bedroom with a whole different attitude. I could see it on her face—even in the way she carried herself. And a beautiful carriage it was. I watched her go to her kitchenette, thinking one thing hadn't changed. She was still wearing that body to die for. However, I wasn't ready for a cold slab in the morgue just yet.


Like any good gumshoe, Slade always has a snappy comeback to pull out of his trench coat.


When I got close, a couple of ragged-looking young toughs moved in front of me. One of them pulled a knife and said, "One more step and I'll stick you like a pig, then gut you like a fish."


"Make up your mind," I replied. "Am I pork or the catch of the day?"


The reason I believe this brand of satire works so well, is that the author doesn't do it so much with a sneer, as he does it with a tip of the fedora. He's not belittling these genres as much as he is paying them homage. My only complaint with the book is that it's too short. I wanted more.


Monster Town is fast-moving, full of brutish thugs and femme fatales, and funny in a way that may not have you laughing out loud, but will leave your inner self chuckling all the way to the last page. And, as Dirk Slade was often heard to say, that's jake with me. 



William Santorik has been a journalist for more than two decades, writing reviews for books, plays, films, and television, as well as other journalistic endeavors.


More by Bruce Golden:

Evergreen

Red Sky, Blue Moon