Fantasybookspot - Ancient Magic

Heart of the Mirage

Sat, 09 Aug 2008 12:25:12 -0400

Mirages are images without substance – sometimes sensory illusions, but they can also be hopes and illusions that never can be realized. Heart of the Mirage is the first instalment in Glenda Larke’s trilogy The Mirage Makers, and it offers a narrative that explores the nature of the illusions and delusions that can make and unmake a person. It is a story about the sometimes illusory nature of identity, of loss and betrayal and of the possibility of redemption.

Heart of the Mirage is first and foremost the story of one woman’s journey towards self-discovery and of the recovery of her heritage, hidden beneath layers of callous deceptions. As a young child Ligea Gayed was stolen from her people by its conquering enemies. Adopted by a high-ranking general, she is raised as a citizen of the Tyranian Empire and employed in its service as a member of its fearsome secret police The Brotherhood. When rebellion breaks out in Kardiastan, the land of her birth, Ligea seems the obvious choice to hunt down and eliminate the Mirager, the mysterious and elusive leader of the rebel insurgency.

Upon her arrival in Kardiastan, Ligea devotes herself to her mission with patriotic zeal and ruthless cunning, but the deeper she infiltrates the leadership of the rebellion, the harder it becomes for her to maintain her disciplined self-image as a loyal Tyrianian citizen. There are deep secrets in Kardiastand, secrets that intimately defines the land and its once ruling elite, the Magor. These secrets are also the key to Ligea’s forgotten heritage. As she learns more about her people and her unique heritage, Ligea begins to question the values of her upbringing and her very identity in an ever increasing degree. Ultimately, she is faced with a difficult choice between the values of her upbringing and the nature of her birthright. It is a choice that not only will affect her sense of self, her loyalties but also the future of two nations.

Glenda Larke creates a vivid and exotic world that departs from the more conventional pseudo-medieval settings of fantasy fiction. Thus the Tyrian Empire displays many similarities with the Roman and Byzantine Empires of the Mediterranean world. It is a civilization with a highly sophisticated culture, but it is also an aggressively militant culture, built upon conquest and slavery, a culture where racism and casual cruelty is the norm and where ruthlessness and corruption is rewarded above decency and compassion. Kardiastan is in many ways the direct opposite to Tyrans. Where Tyrans has a Roman or Byzantine “feel”, Kardistan is more reminiscent of Arabian or North African culture. The Kardis are a desert people, hardy and fierce but also very generous and trusting when it comes to people other than their Tyranian oppressors. In the entire Empire, the Kardis are unique in their refusal to bend their neck to their oppressors and assimilate their culture and values. They cling to their own culture and mores with a fierce desperation that quietly disrupts the administration of the Tyrian occupiers. The Magor, the Kardi aristocracy, exists as a unique culture within the larger Kardi society. Set apart by their magical abilities and closely connected to the land, they live by rules and values that are significantly different from those of the ordinary Kardi people. After the invasion, the Magor has retreated to the Mirage, a mysterious and inaccessible piece of land in the heart of Kardiastan. The Mirage is a strange place, where the landscape constantly changes and it leaves a lasting imprint upon Ligea’s soul.

The Mirage is the heart of the Kardi insurgency and the source of the Magor’s powers, but it is not the only mirage in this story. Narrated in the first person, Heart of the Mirage is essentially the story about the illusions and deceptions that has shaped Ligea’s life and person. Structured in four parts, each section titled after the various names that Ligea is given or assumes throughout the story, Heart of the Mirage is ultimately a novel about the illusory nature of identity itself.

With Heart of the Mirage Glenda Larke has written a very enjoyable and utterly compelling story that unflinchingly probes into the psychology of a person who has been robbed of her family, her people and her culture. Ligea’s origins have been stolen from her; her heritage has been denied her - a crime that is compounded by the fact that she has been raised by the very person who has killed her family. Larke has obviously been inspired by real events, mainly the Disappeared Ones of Argentina and the Stolen Generations of Aboriginal Australia, a fact that imbues Ligea’s story with a deep-felt resonance.

Characterization constitutes the novel’s greatest strength. It is Ligea’s character that drives the plot and Larke takes the time necessary to build up Ligea’s personality as well as the events and experiences that prompt her to question herself and her values, thus making the manner in which her character evolves plausible. When it comes to characterization, Larke’s work reminds me very much of Robin Hobb. Like Hobb, Larke uses a first-person narrative and she takes the time necessary to build a quite complex character. And like Hobb, Larke is never shies away from revealing bare the less savoury aspects of the protagonist’s personality. Ligea is in many ways not very likeable. Throughout a large part of the story, she comes across as arrogant, self-centered and cruel, but as Larke slowly reveals the forces that have shaped her one can’t help to feel for her. Likewise, the experiences that cause her to change and mature as a person ring absolutely true.

Heart of the Mirage is a very strong novel that offers a multi-facetted and deeply flawed protagonist as well as a well-paced and deeply compelling story about betrayal and identity. Larke has a fluid prose that often emphasizes sensuous detail and if she sometimes veers towards the overly descriptive then this is a very minor complaint. Likewise, the rather ridiculous names – gorclacks and shleths - are but a minor quibble. The only thing that detracted a bit from an otherwise wonderful reading experience was that the novel failed to elicit that “tingling” sense of wonder and enchantment that I associate with truly great fantasy. This is, however, simply a matter of personal taste and it certainly won’t prevent me from recommending it highly.

Trine D. Paulsen

Storms of Vengeance

Sun, 03 Aug 2008 16:04:12 -0400

Storms of Vengeance is the debut novel of John Beachem. It is the first book in his fantasy series, “The Lorradda Stone.”

The story is set in the Kingdom of Faranin, a state comprising many formerly independent nations brought together by centuries of war, now enjoying an uneasy peace for the first time in generations. Magic is forbidden, and those tainted with magical power, the Marked, are hunted and destroyed without mercy.

Faranin’s short-lived tranquility is shattered by a daring late-night raid on the capital city. A band of mysterious attackers, aided by magic, penetrate the vast complex of the royal palace and manage to get out alive. In the aftermath, a prominent legislator is found murdered in his chambers. He had many enemies who would have liked to see him out of the way, but what seems at first like a political killing is soon realized to be more. Witnesses reveal that while the assassination was taking place, some of the raiders were busy searching a completely different part of the palace. The speed and efficiency with which the mysterious raiders struck makes it clear that they knew exactly where to find their victim. So what else were they up to?

Into this mystery are thrust two young palace guards. Calton Relanas is a young man of peasant origins, eager to prove himself. His friend, Ratel Eresgot, is the scion of a wealthy aristocratic family who desperately wants to show that he can succeed without his powerful father. Assigned to assist with the investigation, they find themselves faced with a deadly conspiracy with tendrils reaching into the palace itself, and an evil with designs on far more than the life of a single politician.

I found Storms of Vengeance to be a frustrating book, because it keeps showing flashes of potential to be better than it was. After a successful attention-grabbing opening, things slow down badly, meandering dully for a number of chapters, punctuated by attempts at greater excitement that came across as forced. Then, about a third of the way through, things start to pick up, and I was fairly interested by the end. There’s some good stuff here, but it’s a bit of a slog to get to.

The characters are a mixed bag. The main protagonists, Calton and Ratel, were not effective for me, and seemed neither emotionally engaging nor otherwise interesting. Unfortunately, the reader spends a great deal of time with them. On the other hand, some of the antagonists are a good deal more interesting, though again there is a pacing problem: the reader must wade through some rather unsatisfying parts before these characters start to become more intriguing. I also liked the character of Faren, the commander of the palace guard who leads the investigation of the attack. Beachem does a nice job of taking a very boring, stick-in-the-mud sort of person and making him an interesting and sympathetic character. The brief appearances by the King of Faranin were also effective, defying the common clichés for fictional monarchs- heroic guardian of the people, ruthless tyrant and oppressor, or ineffectual buffoon. Instead, he comes across as a well-intentioned man who is just unbearably tired, ground down by a lifetime of crushing responsibility.

The setting is more or less a typical medieval fantasy kingdom; for the most part it is serviceable but not remarkable. It does have one prominent virtue, however. I greatly enjoyed the book’s portrayal of elves- or “forest demons,” as most people in Faranin call them. In an enjoyable break with the common fantasy clichés that have turned elves into little more than pretty long-lived humans with a fondness for trees and shrubbery, Beachem’s elves truly seem uncanny and inhuman, frightening and inscrutable creatures of folklore.

Overall, I would describe Storms of Vengeance as a disappointment. Beachem shows a number of flashes of potential, but the reader must put up with a good deal of much less interesting material to get to them. I think his work shows future promise, and I’m curious to see how Beachem develops, but overall I can’t recommend Storms of Vengeance.

The Immortal Prince

Wed, 30 Jul 2008 06:55:58 -0400

Australia is referred to as a ‘New World' country with respect to its wine production. This distinction is made with the traditional European nations being referred to as ‘Old World'. Jacobs Creek, one of Australia’s leading wineries, defines ‘New World’ wines as “innovative, easy to understand, accessible and generous in flavor”. There is far less pretention to be found in New World wines than the traditional versions, and as such, Australian wines have gained a world-wide reputation for originality and value for money. In many ways, a strong parallel can be drawn to the large number of Australian fantasy authors currently producing high quality and innovative works. Many of these writers are not well known outside of their home country, but they are gradually gaining exposure in the mainstream marketplaces of the USA and England. One of the most talented of these Australian authors is Jennifer Fallon.

Fallon is an interesting character in her own right, being the ninth child in a family of 13 girls. She lives in the Northern Territory, which contains some of the most isolated and remote places in the world. Fallon has three children of her own, but has also fostered over 50 other youngsters in need. Her writing commenced, as with all good authors, through submitting a Mills and Boon manuscript. Thankfully for the world of literature, this book was rejected and Fallon has gone onto a successful career in fantasy. Fallon’s first novel was 'Medalon', the opening novel in the six piece “Hythrun Chronicles”. She then wrote the “Wolfblade Trilogy”, with both series being very well received in Australia and overseas. Fallon’s latest work is “The Tide Lords”, which commences with 'The Immortal Prince'.

Fallon introduces the reader to a new world in 'The Immortal Prince', with the story commencing in the duchy of Glaebe. The main character of the book, Arkady Desean, is in a position of security being married to Stellan, the Duke of Glaeba. She has, however, a life and experiences prior to her marriage that are not traditionally expected of someone marrying into high society. Her childhood originated in near poverty, and then progressed to history studies at a doctoral level. And it is as an academic that Arkady is brought in to interview a convicted criminal called Cayal who, mysteriously, failed to die whilst being hanged. From this point, the story unfolds.

The author manages to successfully sketch out the background and history of this new country, but at the same time, does so without falling into the trap of inundating the reader with massive passages of descriptive text. Fallon uses the interviews between Arkady and Cayal as a mechanism for revealing the details of the world. As a literary device, it works very well. New characters such as the Royal Spymaster Declan Hawkes, and the Crasii, a mix of half-human half animal slaves, are also introduced and add significantly to the flow of the story.

The underlying magical premise is quite innovative, being based around the concept of a group of Immortals who possess near god-like powers. This magical skill is contingent upon ‘the Tide’, a force that ebbs and flows over thousands of years. When the Tide is out, the Immortals are largely powerless. However, when the Tide returns, the Immortals have the ability to literally destroy or re-make the world. At the start of the book the Tide is out, however, it soon becomes clear that change is underway.

One of the strengths of 'The Immortal Prince', and yet also its weakness, is the prose. Fallon demonstrates her great skill in writing interesting and well developed characters, however, at times the story almost got lost in overly decorative language. Some readers will delight in this aspect of the book, but I must admit that at times I found it a little grating. It is only a minor criticism, but I almost felt that the plot took second place to the prose in certain sections of the book. It is not a significant fault in any way, and some readers will particularly enjoy her style. It must also be said that Arkady is occasionally quite irritating as the main personality, but Cayal and the rest of the cast are consistently well portrayed. As a means of comparison, Fallon's writing is far closer to that of a Robin Hobb or perhaps Greg Keyes than someone like Steven Erikson.

Whilst much of the story is reasonably predictable, Fallon does manage to maintain the intrigue right to the end of the book. There are a number of twists in the plot that are unexpected, and underline her skill as a storyteller of the highest quality. These surprises are logical and consistent within the larger plot, but were still not easily foreseen. Fallon also manages to finish the book off at a suitable point. Whilst it is clearly set up for the remainder of the series, it still ends without leaving the reader completely up in the air. I intensely dislike books that are not complete in their own right, and Fallon has successfully managed to avoid this error.

There are few authors that I automatically buy their latest offerings without even perusing the back cover. Fallon has become one of this group. Her books are consistently well written, with great plots and exceptionally well developed characters. Fallon is not just a very good Australian fantasy writer, she is simply a very good fantasy writer. 'The Immortal Prince' is highly recommended to all fans of the genre. Book Two of the Tide Lords, 'Gods of Amyrantha', and Book Three, 'The Palace of Impossible Dreams', are also now available.

Vampyres of Hollywood

Sun, 27 Jul 2008 12:35:20 -0400

The actress Adrienne Barbeau, probably best known for the ‘70s tv series Maude and more recently the HBO series Carnivale, teams up with prolific author Michael Scott (his YA novel The Alchemyst is being made into a movie) to write her second novel, Vampyres of Hollywood: a modern tale of vampires, murder, and the movie-making business.

This novel differs from other tales of that bloodsucking creature of the night in that it claims that Hollywood was essentially created by vampires. After all, it provides the perfect environment for them. It allows them to satisfy their narcissism and it gives them a means to perpetuate all of those fallacies and even create some new ones, like having no reflections, in order to keep the true nature of their existence from being discovered.

It took an X-ray and an autopsy to confirm that Jason Eddings had been killed with the Oscar he’d won for Best Actor just six hours earlier.

He deserved it.

The Oscar, that is.

As for being murdered, well, he probably deserved that, too.

Vampyres of Hollywood opens with a murder, and the subsequent chapters alternate between the first person point of views of Osvanna Moore, legendary horror film actress and studio head, and Peter King, the detective with movie-star good looks and a penchant for nice clothes (he is, after all, working the Beverly Hills beat.) But one murder quickly becomes several murders, and all of the victims are somehow linked to Osvanna.

From Osvanna’s point of view, we are given glimpses into her long and rich past from her relationship as body guard, friend and occasional lover to Catherine the Great to that of muse to Van Gogh. We learn that many great historical events and persons were somehow related to vampirism like Jack the Ripper and the fall of Pompeii. Barbeau and Scott manage to make it all seem plausible, and it works mostly because the novel doesn’t strive to take itself too seriously.

Through Detective King’s investigations, we are introduced to more than a few interesting characters. His tenant, SuzieQ (that’s her real name, it says so on her driver’s license) is an exotic dancer, snake wrangler, and sounding board for the detective, often offering insightful comments and useful insider information (Hollywood is a small town, you know.) Since the suspect in this case has been dubbed The Cinema Slayer, we are introduced to his mom, who knows the movie industry inside and out. She once had aspirations of being an A-List actress, but was always relegated to roles such as “girl in the bar”, “woman in the bar, and “woman behind bars.” Eventually, her penchant for saving movie set mementos and collecting signed film scripts paid off when eBay provided the perfect venue for selling those mementos. Then there’s John Trueblood who stands at 6’8” and goes by the nickname Little John. He’s an ex-convict and ex-professional wrestler, tattoo artist and parlor owner, and avid collector of movie memorabilia (he‘s one of Mrs. King’s best customers.) These folks may be secondary characters, but they add interest and color to the story in addition to helping move King’s case forward.

Minor inconsistencies (vampires don’t feel the cold, but in one scene Osvanna feels “Brittle cold but no pain.”; it’s pointed out that vampires can be seen in mirrors because of the laws of physics yet no mention is made of those same laws when they change into animal forms) and a tendency to state the obvious do little to detract from the fact that this is a briskly paced and entertaining story that doesn’t pause long enough to give the reader time to worry too much about these minor criticisms. There are plenty of references to the Hollywood of yesteryear as well as currently running shows to appease most movie and television buffs. There are scenes of gore and a grand finale of flesh-eating to give horror fans something to wince about. In the end, Vampyres of Hollywood provides a fitting metaphor for Hollywood’s movie industry as well as a vampy, campy fun read.

Since I don't have the option of rating this book something between a 6 and 7, I gave it a 7.

(This review refers to the Advance Uncorrected Proof.)

Majestrum

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 23:32:27 -0400

The back jacket copy describes Majestrum by Matthew Hughes, as “Sherlock Holmes meets Jack Vance’s Dying Earth…” H-m-m-m-m. Let’s take a look. This first person narrative chronicles the latest adventures of Henghis Hapthorn, freelance discriminator. Hapthorn is assisted by his integrator, a sort of electronic Dr. Watson, in the broadest sense, who has been transformed into a living, breathing, and definitely, eating creature. Cat-monkey is how I pictured it in my mind, although it is also referred to as a “familiar.” “It?” Is it male? Female? Not sure, but it most definitely is no longer a machine.

The third member of Hapthorn’s feckless crew is Hapthorn himself. Or, rather, Hapthorn’s intuition, which has achieved separate awareness under the same special circumstances described in a previous novel wherein our integrator becomes flesh and blood and sentient. Well, kind of sentient. And hungry.

So the intuition is growing in awareness and power and Hapthorn can foresee the day when he, Hapthorn, the current “I” in this particular body will be nothing more than a daub of logic in the other’s mind. By the way, in this far distant future universe of Hapthorn’s (Ah, Dying Earth-like) the operating system of the universe is making a switch. Kind of like going from Windows to Mac, the universe is slowly reverting to a past state wherein sympathetic association (also known as magic) dominates over logic and reason. It seems the universe fluctuates, switching from one to the other over the millennia in constant change as yin becomes yang and yang becomes yin.

However, certain occurrences in said previous novel have brought about the change faster in particular instances, i.e. integrator becomes cat-monkey and intuition becomes ego.
So we begin the novel with the integrator snacking on expensive bowls of fruit, and Hapthorn worrying about losing control of his body.

Now to the mystery, or, mysteries. First Lord Afre, a member of Earth’s aristocracy in the far future, calls in need of a freelance discriminator (Enter the Holmesian element.). Hapthorn begins his investigation, carefully. Decadent? Jaded? The aristocrats of the far future may be that, but they are more than anything, dangerous. Of course, one does not climb to such a pinnacle nor maintain that perch without having claws. Although, so unaware of the lower classes is Lord Afre, that Henghis must wear a symbol of recognition to safeguard him (Nice touch this!).

A second mystery is carried in by the Archon, the young, somewhat clumsy, and absolute ruler of Earth. Soon, Holmes, er, uh, Hapthorn is embroiled in a case that may well determine the very integrity of the universe.

Majestrum has many fine points. The characters are fey and immoral and somewhat Vanceian, but, to Matthew Hughes’ credit, very much their own people. This novel has the feel of a Jack Vance universe, but the characters are Matthew Hughes's. I particularly like the interplay between Hapthorn and his familiar. The exchanges are often droll and dry, and very funny. Toward the end of the book, Hapthorn requires his familiar to perform what seems to be a dangerous action. The familiar refuses. The dialogue brought more than one laugh-out-loud from me. Very nice.

So the characters are good and some are very real. The mystery is not all that mysterious, and the reader is not supplied with enough information to solve the case. Not bad, but not a true mystery.
The setting tends to be flat. There is just not enough description of the world around our team. Curiously, this might be said to mimic Jack Vance, whose worlds often seem a bit vague, especially when compared to the creatures who inhabit them.

Vance meets Holmes? I will give in to the Vance part with the caveat that Matthew Hughes’s characters are his very own and should be appreciated and enjoyed for this. They are not merely Vanceian pastiches, they are real. And often quite good.

Holmes, no, I think not. But this is not a bad thing. Once again, Henghis Hapthorn, his familiar, and his soon-to-be-ego are individuals their own selves. This is not really a mystery, but an enjoyable story about a detective—I mean a freelance discriminator.

Majestrum is a delightful book and highly recommended. If you like Jack Vance you will most likely enjoy these characters. But also, enjoy them on their own. The plot is above average and combined with Hughes’s excellent writing style, moves along quite well. I enjoyed this to the point where I will go back and catch up on the doings of Hapthorn and also go forward and read the newest book, The Spiral Labyrinth, as well.

The Shadow Pavilion

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 14:06:57 -0400

The Shadow Pavilion, the fourth in the Detective Inspector Chan adventures certainly carries through with the promise of an entertaining read. DI Chen, Shanghai Three’s Police Liaison with Heaven and Hell, is after whatever group is illegally bringing in residents of Hell as cheap labor. He has two of the best working on it when they disappear. Seneschal Zhu Irzh is not only a demon but a terrific operative in his own right and was sent in with Badger, who can take care of himself. Now Chen has to find out where they’ve gone and still get to the bottom of the issue. It doesn’t help when he finds out that the newly crowned Celestial Emperor is under an attempted assassination and that a shortcutting scriptwriter has imported a Tiger demon to impersonate a movie star and that she is now on the loose and in a starlet-sized snit.

Liz Williams has created an interestingly enjoyable fantasy/scifi/adventure. This one sort of defies classification as Singapore Three is futuresque but with her addition of the realms of Hell and Heaven and all their dream- and nightmarescape denizens, the tale takes on a mythological bent that makes for fascinating reading. She has begun to flesh out some of the secondary characters more – we get to see from the perspective of Badger, a Hellish family familiar with fierce loyalties to Chen and his wife; we also get a little more perspective from the Celestial Emperor; as well as Chen’s wife Inari. As usual we have some new secondary characters, new demons, foolish humans, and the most successful assassin of all time to keep us amused.

With all due speed Williams draws us into the intrigue, imbuing our imaginations with vivid images full of color and scent that make her stories come alive. With this descriptive skill she lures us in. Then, like the sticky strands of a spider’s web, we get trapped and held by a story that is so full of life we cannot even decide what to call it. Is it futuristic police procedural? Is it an allegorical fairy tale? Near future occult? Perhaps an alternative historical fantasy? Whatever you would like to call it, I’ll just call it something I want more of. Fans of the previous three will not be disappointed.

Stalking the Unicorn

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 13:47:25 -0400

Stalking the Unicorn by Mike Resnick is sort of like The Dresden Files meets Alice in Wonderland. It's a reprint of an urban fantasy from the 1980s before urban fantasy was a popular genre all by itself. Not only that, it's a pulp detective story with a classic opening scene of the PI in his office, broke, suddenly wife-less, down on his luck and a last bottle of good booze (Hmm. I guess it has a bit of country-western music in it too!)

Resnick doesn't disappoint; this book gives any Dresden File book a run for its money—the plot, which is more like a quest than a mystery, makes sense and any serendipitous turns are inserted with skill. This isn't really a page-turner, more of a steady-as-she-goes kind of story. It's interesting enough that you just keep reading without it being a book that really makes your heart pound. It's funny and witty without being laugh-out-loud.

Mallory, the PI, is hired to find a unicorn in an alternate Manhattan that he doesn't know about--at least not until an elf shows up and begs for his help. Mallory goes along with it, mostly assuming the liquor he consumed has much to do with what he is seeing. There's no boring parts where Mallory accepts the realization that what he's seeing is real—Mallory just starts adjusting to it in practical New Yorker style: He's cold so he buys a coat and so what if it has a button to adjust to the temperature or rain?

The chase after the unicorn leads him through several almost familiar places with lots of odd characters, bizarre settings and danger that is enough to keep you interested. Mallory faces some philosophical questions about good vs evil, but there's really no doubt what choice he will make—more a case of wondering how he will mete out his own version of justice.

At 288 pages, this is a quick read. It's good old-fashioned fun without trying too hard.

The Court of the Air

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 09:20:07 -0400

The Court of the Air is the debut novel of English writer Stephen Hunt, and it falls within the category of steampunk, although the novel constitutes a rather eclectic mix of disparate elements that only occasionally come together in a meaningful whole.

The story of The Court of the Air primarily takes place in the kingdom of Jackals, a country that simultaneously is and is not very alike to late 19th century England, if you can imagine an England where Cromwell’s Commonwealth never fell, and where political symbolism is taken quite literally. Thus the Jackals king only has one function, as a symbol of a monarchy shackled by parliamentary democracy. Hence, the king has his arms surgically removed and is paraded around with a metal gag. While the primary reference is Victorian England and steam-driven technology, Hunt also builds his world from an eclectic mix of sentient robots, faerie magic, communist-like revolutionaries, the underground remains of a lost civilization, a Buddhist inspired religion as well as forgotten insect gods worshipped in bloody rites of human sacrifice reminiscent of the Aztecs.

Hunt’s novel is a story about a world poised on the brink of an apocalypse and of two orphans, each with an inborn power to avert the oncoming catastrophe. Molly Templar has grown up in a city orphanage like so many other unwanted children, but when she escapes a brutal murderer in the brothel she has recently been apprenticed to, only to find all her fellow orphans slaughtered, she begins to suspect that someone is committing considerable resources to have her killed. She teams up with a journalist, a retired naval commander and a couple of steammen, sentient robots, in order to escape her pursuers and find out why they want her dead.

Oliver Brooks lost both his parents in a flying accident as a young child. Touched by the inhuman powers of the feymist curtain, he has led a severely circumscribed existence with his uncle in a provincial backwater. His world is suddenly turned upside-down when he finds his uncle and his entire household murdered and himself framed for their deaths. He consequently finds himself on the run from the law together with Harry Stave, a shady friend of his uncle and an agent of the Court of the Air, the mysterious hidden power behind the Jackelian state.

I found The Court of the Air a somewhat frustrating reading experience, mainly because it starts out quite interesting and proceeds to build suspense very well throughout the first 2/3s of the novel. But when we get to point where Molly and Oliver find the answers to why they are hunted, the narrative careens out of control. Molly and Oliver learn that they have inborn abilities that can stop the re-emergence of an ancient evil, but Hunt seems to have had trouble with coming up with a plausible and organic solution to his narrative. Instead he relies heavily on the device of deus ex machina, endowing his hero and heroine with superhuman magical powers that they learn to wield quite suddenly and effortlessly to the detriment of characterization. They simply become less interesting as characters because it is very difficult for the reader to identify with them. Furthermore, it becomes increasingly difficult to uphold the suspension of disbelief that fantasy depends on when the main characters without any significant explanation drastically change from frightened children to competent wielders of superhuman powers. Another of the novels weak points is the way that the narrative derails the plotline about the Court of the Air, the secret police that resides in an airborne fortress of dirigibles. For the better part of the novel, it appears that it is the Court of the Air that seeks the lives of Molly and Oliver, but this plotline is shunted aside about the same time as the children begin to use their suddenly endowed powers, a development that certainly made me wonder why the novel was titled The Court of the Air in the first place.

Though Hunt’s debut has some very serious weaknesses, it also has some strong points. The best part is without doubt his descriptions of the steam-driven technology, which reaches a pinnacle in his invention of the steammen as a sentient race of robots with their own state, culture and religion. This is perhaps the single most original aspect of the novel, and it is worth a read. I also quite liked the Victorian atmosphere of Jackals and Hunt’s use of period slang adds flavour and reality to his creation. These strengths do not, however, balance out the weak points, which is why I have such mixed feelings about this novel.

With The Court of the Air Stephen Hunt demonstrates an abundantly fertile imagination. It is, however, in need of a little pruning in order to make for a more satisfying fantasy novel. It will be interesting to see how he fares with his next offering, The Kingdom Beyond the Waves, also set in the world of Jackals.

A Magic of Twilight

Mon, 09 Jun 2008 12:39:08 -0400

Take the political intrigue of various factions of church, state, subjugated peoples of an empire, and religious heretics in a Renaissance setting and combine with magic and a well-realized fantasy setting and the result is A Magic of Twilight by S.L. Farrell, the first, yet stand-alone, volume of the Nessantico Cycle.

Nessantico, the city and empire has endured a period of relative peace under the leadership of its long-time ruler – Kraljica Marguerite ca’Ludovici. This period of peace has allowed for elements within the ruling nobility, the lands of The Holdings, and factions of the religious order known as the Concènzia Faith to separately plot their own ambitions. The Kraljica and Archigos Dhosti ca’Millac of the Concènzia face a rough road as they are awakened to the growing dangers encircling them.

The main narrative follows the path of a of a minor noble, Ana cu’Seranta as she gains the favor of the Archigos Dhosti within the Concènzia. Ana is gifted in the magical force at the heart of the faith and is soon overwhelmed by the ambitions of the higher nobility, the demands of the faith, and a personal brush with a heretical sect at odds with all she’s ever believed in as she is taken into the Archigos’ council. In these struggles lie the future of The Holdings and Nessantico.

A Magic of Twilight represents another example of a fairly standard epic fantasy framework – an adolescent rises above her roots to attain power and save the day with inborn magical skill. A couple of the variances to the common clichés are the Renaissance setting and use of a female lead character, though the tropes of epic fantasy are embraced rather than subverted. The key is that A Magic of Twilight is skillfully realized and balances well the needs of world-building, characterization and plot. Trope and cliché have their roots in universal truths of the human condition and in competent hands can both entertain and enlighten. While A Magic of Twilight may not rise to a level of enlightenment, it does provide an entertaining and addictive read.

The strength of A Magic of Twilight resides in politics. There are no less than six factions of competing interests at play – complete with assassination, massive armies, and powerful magic. The interplay of these factions and their shifting alliances keeps the reader alert and interested while providing just enough surprises along the way. The portrayal of these Machiavellian politics rivals writers like Robert Jordan at their best, even approaching the skill of George R.R. Martin, if not actually attaining it.

The characterization generally holds up well across the spectrum of point of view and supporting characters. While all the common roles are present, Farrell manages to go beyond caricature characterization to provide an interesting depth. My only real complaint with the characterization is with some of his choices surrounding the main character, Ana. To round her out with a depth of hurt and despair, Farrell chooses to follow the well trodden path of sexual abuse. This approach both benefits and detracts from the character that Ana could be and would drive any follower of feminist theory into a fury.

The primary aspect of A Magic of Twilight detracting form its readability is the choice of naming and the hierarchical titles. The liberal use of apostrophes and made up titles brings the pace to a crawl – especially in the beginning. While this is somewhat effective at creating an otherworld sense of atmosphere, it often proves to be a confusing stumbling block that will likely sour many a reader. The inclusion of an informative Appendix may help and please some, but does little to improve the pace of the narrative.

A Magic of Twilight presents a familiar fantasy epic in a new wrapping that should appeal to fans of the genre while providing an entertaining and addicting read. The story is complete and stands well on its own, though this is the first volume of the larger story of the Nessantico Cycle.

Tigerheart

Sat, 07 Jun 2008 15:58:45 -0400

Coming from a different direction, Peter David explores the Peter Pan legend through the eyes of Paul, a young man whose family has experienced a terrible loss. Paul's baby sister dies in her crib one night. His family deals with this tragedy in different ways. Paul's mother retreats into reality, declaring that only the recognition of the pain of life will make one strong enough to survive. Paul's father simply retreats, leaving his family and the woman who used to be his wife but is now a stranger. Paul relies on what he believes - that his friend, the Boy of Legend, and the magic that surrounds the Boy can somehow replace his sister with another baby. After rescuing a pixie, Paul finds himself led into Anyplace and embroiled in a power struggle between the pirates and the Boy. Thus begins an adventure for Paul that will cause him to question his beliefs and face the most difficult pain of all - saying goodbye.

His quest is not all rainbows and roses. Peter David, the author, weaves the thread of loss and loneliness heavily throughout the story. While some might believe the subject matter of sadness and rejection are too much for younger readers, I disagree. What child has never experienced some type of loss? This is an excellent example of how one little boy deals with the pain he is feeling.

Mr. David writes in a lyrical prose that is a work of art. Unfortunately, the structure and cadence of the writing serves to separate the reader from the story, keeping the reader from participating in the fantasy, experiencing the wonder alongside Paul. Instead, a gulf has been formed, maintaining a strict formality of here is the story and over there stands the reader. For readers who enjoy submerging themselves into a book's reality, this will be a disappointment.

In spite of this, or maybe because of it, I enjoyed this story. The formality and separation served to give the book an old-fashioned feel, as if this was a dusty favorite resurrected from the nursery. The style of the book gives it a sense of being made to read out loud. The cadence lends itself to auditory emphasis and perhaps would be more entertaining to children to listen to the story rather than read it themselves. Peter David goes behind the scenes of NeverNever Land, giving bones and structure to a legend that has spanned generations. He brings in many well-known characters from Peter Pan, giving them fresh faces and different reasons for existing. The new characters are blended seamlessly in with the previous legends, causing Tigerheart to be able to stand on its own.

This is a deep story that would bear well under the scrutiny of a literature class. The nuances of the storyline, though delicate, are clear. Here is a young man struggling to understand the abandonment by his mother, the painful escape of his father, and the harshness reality can bring to life. Mr. David ties up all his loose ends in the end, delivering a whimsical tale that harkens back to the elegance of turn-of-the- century literature.

Maledicte

Tue, 27 May 2008 01:07:25 -0400

Maledicte marks Lane Robins’ first effort as a novelist, and a glance at the cover - which depicts and androgynous face in profile, eyes covered with an ornate Venetian-style domino, the title written with gothic type and the tagline: “A novel of love, betrayal, and vengeance” – it quickly becomes clear that Robins is aiming at a brand of dark fantasy of manners and courtly intrigue that have been very successful in the hands of writers like Jacqueline Carey and Ellen Kushner.

The story starts with a short prologue, where the reader is introduced to two teenagers, Miranda and Janus, who eke out a precarious existence in the Relicts, the slum of Murne, capital of the kingdom of Antyre. Here, Janus is kidnapped by a nobleman acting on the behalf of the Earl of Last. Janus is, in fact, the illegitimate son of the earl, who is in desperate need of an heir. The children know none of this, and the kidnapping thus takes a violent turn. In her desperation, Miranda takes an oath of vengeance and gives her soul into the keeping of Black-Winged Ani, the merciless and bloodthirsty goddess of love and revenge. She intends to reclaim Janus, her first love, and kill his father, the earl of Last.

Disguised as a young man, Miranda enters the household of the baron Vornatti where she creates the persona of Maledicte. Three years later, Maledicte is introduced at the court of King Aris under the patronage of Vornatti. Here s/he cuts an enigmatic and elegant figure, wielding an equally sharp-edge wit and sword among a dissolute nobility. Maledicte attracts the attention of the king with his androgynous beauty, but s/he also creates scandal and makes enemies.

It is at court that Maledicte meets Janus again. They enter into a scandalous love affair that quickly becomes tainted by the ambitions of Janus. As the son of an earl and the nephew of the king, Janus is highly placed at court. He is, however, not content and thus schemes ruthlessly in order to crawl closer to the throne of Antyre. He doesn’t hesitate to use Maledicte, whose god-ridden bloodlust steadily increases, to eliminate whoever stands in his way. However, events spin out of control as Maledicte, goaded by Ani’s lust for blood, edges ever closer to madness. Maledicte is torn between several different identities and the question is whether s/he can recover herself in order to prevent destroying all s/he holds dear.

Lane Robins is very deft in the pacing of the plot, doling out information sparingly in order to create suspense. This makes for at somewhat slow start, but the reader’s patience is rewarded when the story increases in intensity after the first hundred or so pages. The story is focused on courtly intrigues and is full of twists and turns, some fairly unexpected and surprising. The prose is fluid, yet unobtrusive with some shining moments in the descriptions of the opulence of the aristocratic environment and the deadly, sharp-witted banter of the jaded courtiers.

The world-building is sketchy, to say the least. Details about the world the characters inhabit are used very sparingly and only when it suits the plot. The result is a rather hazy impression of a Regency-style world of high society balancing on the cusp of a “modern” era (with oblique references to colonial expansion and industrial innovation). The city Murne, where most of the story takes place, is a little better fleshed out, and Robins makes a few attempts at providing her world with some back-story. However, details about Antyre’s history, its relations with the neighbouring Itarus, its religion and the exile of the gods is scattered about the text in an haphazard and inconsistent manner, which in the end imparts no more than a fuzzy outline of the fantastical world Maledicte inhabits. Actually, it is Maledicte himself, who, unwittingly voices the reader’s experience of the world the story is set in:

Quote:
"Maledicte thought of maps and distance, but his knowledge was sketchy. Vornatti had taught him about the city and its fashionable retreats. Janus had told him about Itarus, and Gilly had sweetened his dreams with descriptions of the Explorations. Ennisere meant nothing, a foggy blur on an unfinished map of the world."

The world of Robins’ novel can in fact best be described as an unfinished map, its fuzzy and blank spots enticing and intriguing, its inconsistencies unexplained. Why, for example, are the god-ridden traditionally persecuted as witches despite their roles as vessels of the divine? How were the exiled gods worshipped? How much did they interfere in the lives of mortals and was their interference always detrimental to humans? One of the themes in Maledicte is the question of superstition since most people, except Vornatti’s man-servant Gilly, believe that the old gods are simply a fabrication, which is why very few are able to recognize that Maledicte functions a vessel for Ani’s bloodlust. But this theme is ultimately undermined by the lack of information. The reader is simply told that the gods disappeared after a battle a few decades back and that people happily abandoned religion altogether – a rather implausible explanation in my opinion. All in all, Lane Robins’ gives the reader a tantalising glimpse of a rather fascinating world and one can only hope that she will develop it further in subsequent books.

Apart from the world-building, my main criticism of the novel concerns the characterization. The story is told via a third person narrative with shifting POV, which can be slightly confusing at times. The main POV is, however, not that of Miranda/Maledicte but instead of the servant Gilly, who plays the role of Maledicte’s friend and confidant as well as the primary witness to the events of the story. He therefore comes across as not only the most sympathetic of the characters but also as the main character of the story. Maledicte is as much Gilly’s story as it is Mirande/Maledicte’s. The reader is only rarely given an insight into the workings of Maledicte’s mind, a fact that lessens the emotional impact of his/her role as the supposed main character. Maledicte mostly comes across as sinister and childishly sullen rather than charismatic and intriguing. In the end, this rather distanced perspective makes it somewhat difficult for the reader to engage herself in the eventual fate of Maledicte and Janus. I, at least, found that I cared more about what happened to Gilly than to the other characters.

I found the question of Maledicte’s multiple identities one of the most interesting aspects of the novel, and was therefore quite frustrated with the author’s inability to explore, in a satisfying manner, the demands and expectations between the overlapping and conflicting identities of Miranda, Maledicte and Ani. Part of the problem is connected to the use of POV, while another relates to the lack of back-story. Miranda and her relationship with Janus are simply not developed enough, prior to the creation of the Maledicte persona, to be convincing and make her yearning for revenge understandable. Their all-encompassing love remains a postulate that is stated by the characters but never proven by the narrative itself. Maledicte’s complete devotion to Janus is fundamentally incomprehensible to the reader (especially as regards the manner in which Janus later makes use of his lover) because one is never really made to understand exactly what these two young people meant to each before the main plot is set into motion. Since the whole story revolves around a love thwarted and betrayed, the lack of back-story for Miranda and Janus is a rather serious failing on the author’s part. Another poorly developed aspect is the process in which the poor street-rat Miranda transforms herself into the elegant, sharp-witted courtier and swordsman Maledicte, something which could have helped to explain how the young woman comes to identify so completely with an identity gendered in the masculine.

Ani’s divine possession of Miranda/Maledicte is perhaps the single-most fascinating aspect of the story, but it suffers from a somewhat uneven handling that oscillates between psychological exploration and external action. Robins gives the reader a few tantalizing hints of the inner conflict between the vengeful goddess and her human vessel, since Maledicte at times attempts to withstand Ani’s seductive whisperings of blood and death. Robins strives to maintain this delicate balance between Maledicte and Ani through most of the novel, but since the POV mostly belong to Gilly and rarely to Maledicte, this aspect often comes across as a pretext for escalating the violence to a level that sometimes approaches the farcical. I must admit that I was continually amazed at the licence Maledicte was given by the king despite his very suspect actions.

Maledicte by Lane Robins can perhaps best be described as a high-strung melodrama of manners, set in a dark and glittering world of courtly intrigue where love and betrayal walks hand in hand. It is an entertaining and suspenseful read, which might appeal to fans of Jacqueline Carey and Ellen Kushner, though it doesn’t reach the high standards of their work. Despite my reservations, I still consider Maledicte a solid first effort from a promising author. Lane Robins is certainly an author worth watching.

Paper Cities, An Anthology of Urban Fantasy

Sat, 17 May 2008 19:59:20 -0400

Urban fantasy has long-reaching roots, but it is only in the last twenty years or so that writers and readers have begun using the term in an effort to describe and define a subgenre of fantasy. A subgenre in which the city defines the setting as well as itself as a character. The theme of Paper Cities, an Anthology of Urban Fantasy is to illustrate how cities are like living entities in themselves, and how they affect and influence the lives of those that dwell within them.

Some of the stories emphasized the physical aspects of the city creating distinctive images and atmospheres like Jay Lake's Promises: A Tale of the City Imperishable,

On the roof---a roof, rather, for the Sudgate was ramified and ramparted like some palace of dream---the moonlight was almost violet. The heavy grease-and-shit scent of the Sudgate Districts moiled below them somewhere, miscegenating with night humors off the Saltus and whatever flowed down from Heliograph Hill and the Limerock Palace. Sister Nurse set Girl down so that they stood on a narrow ledge, looking back across the City Imperishable to the north and east as a curious, abrasive wind plucked at them both.

and The Funeral, Ruined by Ben Peek,

Lately, the twin ovens had a tendency to blur around the edges for Linette, but even with the beginning of her deteriorating eyesight due to her thirty-eighth year, the immense girth and height of the creations meant that they were unable to be passed over when she looked at Issuer’s skyline. In contrast, the hundreds of long, bronze windmills that rose out of the city could---and did--- fade from her awareness. The Ovens, however, lurked on the horizon like a pair of dark, hunched watchers outside the city, covered in a layer of soot as a disguise. If you managed to forget them (and Linette doubted she ever could), then you would be reminded each Friday when they belched tart smelling ash, and plumes rose out of each to signal the burning of the weekly dead.

Others showed how peoples lives were re-shaped, adapted to, or otherwise forced to conform to their environment like in the absurdly strange Godivy by Vylar Kaftan where office managers mate with copiers to produce...copies of themselves, and in the sobering story Taser by Jenn Reese in which a gang of human boys is led by a ruthless husky-mixed dog with telepathic abilities. In Catherynne M. Valente’s Palimpsest, the city makes its mark on the inhabitants literally,

I caught a glimpse in my mirror as I turned to catch a loose thread in my skirt---behind my knee, a dark network of lines and angles, and, I thought I could see, tiny words scrawled above them, names and numbers, snaking over the grid.

After that, I began to look for them.

There were the fantastically adventurous stories like Alex and the Toyceivers by Paul Meloy. This short story is actually the first chapter of a novel in which demented toy-like beasts are after Alex. A sudden, violent confrontation and narrow escape left me wanting to know more about the Toyceivers and why they were after Alex. The Somnambulist by David J. Schwartz tells of a woman who awakens most mornings exhausted and aching because …

She dreamed that she carried a fire-tipped lance astride an eight-legged horse, that she excavated bones from the floors of ancient cathedrals, that she climbed the inner walls of ruined fortresses long since given over to tourists and pulled amulets from behind loose bricks. Sometimes she killed faceless things that crawled through wind or flew upon currents of sand. She developed calluses on her hands, woke up sore after sleeping on silk sheets. Her nails never needed to be clipped.

The Tower of Morning’s Bones by Hal Duncan is an exaltation of language that spans time and space to revel in the most ancient of myths and more modern technologies in a single bound. Its tone and prose are reminiscent of his duology, The Book of All Hours,

Over the grey memory of his dream and over the grey reality of the world outside, he sings out loud and long the lines that weave the world around him, music and mosaic, a shape of songlines. This modern muezzin sings from his minaret to wake the mourning city up, and as he sings, a tower of hours arises out of swamp, vines climbing shaft to glassy dome. The songliner laughs---the city’s morning glory. Somewhere a weathervane cockcrows.

Although they all share a common theme, the diversity of the stories and imaginations of the authors make this collection an interesting and compelling read. In Paper Cities, the city is not a mere background against which authors prop their characters to tell a story. The city is a character: an incredibly viable, evolving, and influential one at that.

Embrace the Night

Mon, 12 May 2008 22:16:25 -0400

Embrace the Night, Karen Chance’s third volume in the Cassandra Palmer series is a fitting sequel to the first two. Fast paced and filled with faeries, kids, vampires, mages, ghosts, incubi, gargoyles, magic spells, evil plots, backstabbing and surprises – this one follows the lead of the first two and adds in a bit more of each to ‘kick it up a notch’ so to speak. In this novel, Cassie is now Pythia, the most powerful living clairvoyant with the charge of keeping the current timeline from being corrupted through unscrupulous use of time travel. Cassie’s familiarity with vampires and ghosts is an aid to her for this post but she has just a few tiny little obstacles to surmount. The first issue she has to deal with is a geis placed upon her by the very old and very powerful vampire Mircea. Just for complications sake, during one of her trips to the past, she accidentally caused the geis to be intensified. Another problem she must manage is her deal with the king of the faeries. She has agreed to retrieve an ancient book of magic for him. Not just any book but one written personally by Merlin and sought after by everyone who is anyone in the magical community. It hasn’t even been seen in hundreds of years, yet she has to find it and recover it. Working against her are the mage’s Silver Circle and various factions of this or that group that either want to kill her or control her because of her power.

Cassie, however, has friends. She has the permanently cranky Pritkin, war mage extraordinaire who is not only an expert on demons, but the son of one himself. Can she trust him? She also has Casanova, an incubus in the employ of her former tormentor, crime boss and vampire Tony. Can she trust him to not betray her to Tony? Then there are the gargoyles who illegally work the kitchen of the casino where she’s hiding out, Francoise a powerful witch transported from the past, and of course, Billy, her gambler ghost friend.

The action begins immediately and carries through to the final page. This one goes quickly and drags you along for the ride. Full of quirky humor, a bit of steamy romance, and lots of inventive magic and mayhem it is an enjoyable ride to follow along as Cassie attempts to control her gift, save her life and those of her friends as well as to get the magic, faerie and vampire communities off her back. Being new to the post of Pythia, she has to learn as she goes. Her jumps through time seem to be both too easy in a technical manner, as she decides she must go to a certain place and time and does so – even though in the last book it was explained that her magic was tied to a disarray of the timeline and that would be the only way she would travel back in time and would also dictate when she arrived; and too inconsistent – as her multiple leaps bring her physical discomfort some times but not others.

All in all a very engaging book that had me leaping through the pages, and since it is nearly double the size of the previous two, it kept me engaged for a decent amount of time. Now that Cassie is getting settled into the Pythia role, I expect that the series can branch out from personal-to-her stories to more stories of her working at the role of Pythia and keeping the timeline intact. I will definitely be interested in finding out what happens next.

The War of the Flowers

Thu, 08 May 2008 16:24:57 -0400

My first experience with Tad Williams was when I picked up his novel, "City of Golden Shadow." I found the book's opening, in which one of the main characters experiences scenes from World War I, to be marvelously descriptive and quite riveting. Though I found the culmination of that book series to be rather disappointing, I moved on to more of Williams' books. I read his "Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn" saga, which I found more enjoyable, but was once again disappointed by the ending. I then tackled "Shadowmarch," which was so bogged down I could hardly finish it. After all of these lengthy works, I wanted to try something that would give me more of what I liked about Tad Williams without the sheer weight of pages. That led me to try, "The War of the Flowers."

In this standalone novel, I was soon rewarded with exactly what I had hoped for. Williams' gift for wonderful descriptive scenes was again present as I began reading. The scenes and events involving Theo and his mother stand out as some of the most poignant I've ever read.

The premise of the book is interesting, if not completely new to fantasy readers. Theo, the main character, finds himself transported to the land of Faerie and encounters danger and adventure as he is caught up in the affairs of the ruling houses, named for flowers. I found the title misleading, as actual war in the sense of pitched battles and combat heroics is not a major element of the plot.

The book is not so much about fantastic elements, though these are certainly present, as it is about interaction between its well-developed characters. Many are dark, with sinister aspects hinted at and revealed slowly by the author. Theo begins as a sympathetic loser, but grows as the story progresses. Love interests abound throughout and feature prominently in his fate. There are some aspects of "Romeo and Juliet" here, in fact, though with a less tragic outcome.

There is some social commentary as well, though I perceived it to be understated, perhaps even underdeveloped. The inhabitants of Faerie, in an interesting twist for a fantasy novel, are discovering all the problems of industrialized society, class inequality, exploitation, and greed.

Unfortunately, the excellence of the early parts of the book begins to wane by the middle to late chapters. This is a common problem with many of Williams' books, in my opinion. The mysterious elements in the plot begin to be explained -- but the details seem overly contrived. I was disappointed with some of the plot twists, and others I found predictable. In a few cases, I felt as though I was left hanging with no explanation at all.

These complaints would have been forgivable but for the end of the story. It almost seemed as though the author had lost interest in the book chapters ago, and just needed to get it wrapped up so it would be finished.

In fairness, I enjoyed reading this book, flaws and all. Tad Williams once again succeeds in creating another world for the reader to explore, though at times the writing is frustrating. I would recommend this book to anyone looking for a short -- if 700 pages may be called short – introduction to the style of Tad Williams. His best and worst are both present in this novel.

The Golden Rose

Thu, 08 May 2008 09:35:59 -0400

Judith Tarr, writing as Kathleen Bryan, continues the adolescent struggles of Averil and Gereint a year after the ending of “The Serpent of the Rose” in “The Golden Rose.” The teens have spent that year apart, in contemplation and preparation for the adventures assured at the end of “Serpent,” and look forward to meeting again, even if Averil must leave to marry at the wish of her evil uncle, the king. There seems to be no escape from her duty as a royal, but the magic in Averil and Gereint, while strong individually, is practically unstoppable when united.

She is sixteen now, and he seventeen, and a year makes all the difference as they confront those who would use the hidden serpent evil to destroy her uncle’s enemies. Their maturity is evident as they search for ways to thwart the king, struggling to accept that sometimes, even with the magic they share, they need to ask for and graciously receive help from the adults in their lives.

The two continue to wrestle with their desire for each other, but Averil’s insistence that the social constraints surrounding her position make their union an impossibility, along with Gereint’s respect for her concerns, keeps their relationship pure without ignoring the physical aspects of their attraction for each other. Their kisses grow more passionate, and the frank discussion of their desires makes their frustration believable.

The romance is woven into the story so well that it remains a part of it without overwhelming the larger frame, the physical and mental fight against Averil’s power hungry uncle, the king of Lys, who will stop at nothing to rule the kingdoms around him, including Quitaine, left in her hands upon the death of her father, the king’s brother.

Averil and Gereint’s emotional journey echoes typical adolescent development; while they struggle against fantastic forces in a stunning medieval world, their insecurities are universal. The individual’s place and importance in the world, along with the necessity of careful trust in others and the notion that things aren’t always what they seem, were brought up in the first novel of the War of the Rose trilogy and are explored further in the second.

Readers who pick up "The Golden Rose" without the benefit of the background in “The Serpent and the Rose” may be a bit lost as they catch up over the first few chapters, primarily because of the complexity of some of the relationships between characters. The author’s attention to detail and elaborate description bring these relationships to life without overdoing it.

It is a sparkling, iridescent world she creates, but as a character driven piece, the novel stands out because of the careful consideration given to emotional and physical feelings. The cover art, courtesy of the award-winning Donato, echoes these details in a disturbing yet beautiful scene of loss from the story. While not marketed as a young adult novel, this trilogy would be appropriate and attractive to such an audience, while maintaining adult appeal. I look forward to following Averil and Gereint’s resolution of their personal and political problems in the conclusion of this engaging romantic fantasy.

Unquiet Dreams

Sun, 04 May 2008 23:27:14 -0400

Unquiet Dreams takes fans of Urban Fantasy back to what the subgenre could and should be. Urban Fantasy has long been relegated to the slow simmering back burner reserved for the thick, sloppy cheese that is comforting, unsurprising, and coagulates into a lumpy mess far too easily. There are perfectly good Urban Fantasy books and perfectly horrible ones. Fortunately, "Unquiet Dreams" is one of the very good ones.

This is the second book in the series, after "Unshapely Things".This volume stands alone quite well, with enough recapping incorporated into the story to help new readers understand what Connor Grey is talking about without bogging down the pace. Connor Grey used to be part of the Guild, a magical police force that takes care of problems within the magical community, but after a nasty encounter with a powerful elf robbed him of his powers, he does freelance work with the human police. A teenaged human boy dies in the street and when Connor is called into the investigation, things spiral into a much larger and much more dangerous case. Clever readers will be able to figure out who the culprit is in advance, but the journey to the revelation is still well worth the read. Del Franco's Boston is a city that has been changed by the emergence of magical creatures but still retains most of its character. The city is populated with a variety of beings, many of whom are represented in any number of other fantasy novels. What sets this book apart is that no single class of characters is bad or good, rather they run a spectrum, though they've been subjected to stereotypes, much like their human counterparts.

The book keeps its crime scenes quite descriptive without delving too much into horrifically graphic tableaus. It's both more entertaining and far less stomach-turning than the average episode of "CSI." It's paced well, with little drag and little lacking in plot development. The characters could easily have disintegrated into a mush of stock and cardboard, but they rise to the story almost effortlessly without seeming contrived. The whole book carries an air of careful plotting without ham-handed manuevering. None of the breaks in the case seem contrived and there aren't any deus ex machina moments.

Connor Grey isn't a perfect character. He's a fallen hero who's still scraping himself together. The reader can feel sympathy for his struggles, but also see that he's one of those characters who most likely led himself to his plight. He's a very readable and compelling character.

This book was highly enjoyable, and I will definitely be seeking out the rest of the series. I'll also be buying copies of the first book for friends who enjoyed books like "War for the Oaks" by Emma Bull and Terri Windling's "Bordertown" series. I will also be holding out hope that more readers and publishers will take notice and start publishing more Urban Fantasy titles. The subgenre just faltered a little, like Connor Grey, and it doesn't deserve to be either forgotten or ignored.

The Magician and the Fool

Sun, 04 May 2008 13:56:06 -0400

Barth Anderson’s second novel, The Magician and The Fool, is marketed as a thriller in the DaVinci Code mode, with the hidden history behind the Tarot being the focus. Indeed, the novel is fast-paced and full of spectacular deaths, chases, and secret societies. But Anderson flips the script of the traditional thriller, and creates something much richer and more mysterious.

Jeremiah Rosemont is an former art historian who has left his tenure track career to hide out in South American, living the carefree existence of a nomad. Part of his leaving academia has to do with his frequent run-ins with his former friend John C. Miles, a whacked out Timothy Leary type who believes in the mystical properties of the tarot and its occult origins. In the past, Miles and Rosemont were a kind of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid team of tarot readers in Austin, at a punk-hippie club called the Circus of the Infinite Wow. Both had considerable power in divination, but where Rosemont didn’t truly believe in his prophecies, Miles clearly did. When Rosemont became a respectable academic, Miles made it his mission to heckle Rosemont wherever he made a presentation. The final insult came when Rosemont gave a career-building talk, one that would have led to a prestigious position, and Miles embarrassingly appearred in the audience, ruining his chances. Rosemont is in Nicaragua when he receives a mysterious summons to Rome, accompanied by an airline ticket. Upon his arrival, he is plunged head-first into a whirlwind conspiracy, having to do with authenticating a series of paintings that may be the basis for the modern tarot deck. Within hours, he witnesses a horrific murder and experiences strange phenomena, such as sudden shifts place and odd visions.

In Minneapolis, a homeless man known only as Boy King begins to have visions of his own. Boy King is a tarot reader who lives in an abandoned warehouse, hiding from someone—or something. Boy King is a broken man, and at first, it is unclear whether the complex patterns by which he lives his life are real or a projection of his psychosis. He is a sorcerer of sorts, surrounding himself with protective talismans and ghosts. When we meet him, he has made a conscious effort not run anymore, and face his destiny, whatever it may entail. Boy King’s sections of the novel are slightly more mystical than the Rosemont sections. They are told in a feverish prose style that emulates the enigmatic nature of tarot readings.

Back in Rome, Rosemont—“the fool”—learns of the occult beginnings of the tarot tradition, which predates the cards themselves. It goes back to ur-Eygptian gods, includes the Fall of Troy, and the ancient fight between Romulus and Remus. He learns these chunks of secret history while on the run from two sinister figures who are searching (and murdering) for the mysterious paintings—DiTrafana and Transom.

The connection between Rosemont and Boy King, and the fate of the paintings makes for suspenseful reading. The resultant novel, though, is less like a commercial thriller than it is like ‘secret history’ fantasies of Elizabeth Hand, like Waking the Moon and Mortal Love. Like Hand’s work, Anderson’s supernatural occurrences aren’t just pyrotechnic window dressing. They are an exploration of the effect myth has on the modern world. Anderson uses leitmotifs through his work—the image of brothers echoes through out the novel, and Miles/Rosemont have a rather more complicated relationship that’s hinted at. At one point, the openly gay Rosemont falls in love Miles. Creatures of myth wander through the streets of Madison, WI, Rome and Minneapolis in both hidden and overt forms. The miasma of elder gods haunts the text. The magic system is wonderfully perplexing. It involves pockets of time, sudden shifts in locale and states of consciousness, and unexplained but intriguing terminology. The tricks that the author-magician plays are persuasive, even if they are trippy and open-ended.

In one chilling scene, Rosemont sees a horrible vision in a mirror:

“A gathering of many colored planes representing the angles and curves of his face stared back at him. The face in the mirror, though, was not Rosemont’s, not remotely…One moment his reflection looked reptilian or birdlike, but then, as the face turned, it seemed suddenly simian, and then the polychromatic mosaic of planes and surfaces frowned into a yawning circle of flower petals, before the light in the bathroom shifted…”

At the same time, Anderson adds humorous juxtapositions. One of the key scenes occurs in a Mexican chain restaurant, referred to as ‘the Chi Chi’s of the Damned.’

The Magician and the Fool is thoroughly enjoyable, and imbued with a rich sense of wonder. What starts out as a juggernaut thriller subtly and skillfully turns into study of magic in the modern world.

Procession of the Dead

Sat, 03 May 2008 22:41:24 -0400

Procession of the Dead comes from the Incan word Ayuamarca, which literally translated gives the book its title. It is also the Incan name for the month of November, and the title of the novel’s 11th chapter. In fact all of the chapter titles are taken from the Incan names for the months. It is a clever hook that Shan bases his narrative on, were the reader so inclined; they could research and dissect the minutia that Shan has layered into what was in 1999 his first novel. Sadly, I was not so inclined.

Capac Raimi arrives in the city (it is always just referred to as “the city”) to be a gangster with his Uncle Theo. Uncle Theo was a big deal in his youth, when he ran with “The Pacinos”, but has since faded to doing smalltime protection rackets. Capac’s arrival quickly changes things. Before long, they have attracted the attention of The Cardinal. The Cardinal is the near mythic crime lord who rules the city, and his attention is not rarely a good thing. Those who displease him disappear so thoroughly that their own families never remember they existed.

As Capac works his way up into the good graces of The Cardinal’s family, he comes to understand how little he knows of himself. But it quickly becomes apparent that there is more to The Cardinal and his city than Capac initially realized. His master isn’t satisfied with ruling the city, or an empire. The Cardinal wishes to be God, and Capac is tangled in the plot to bring this mad dream to fruition. Capac Raimi finds himself last on a list of names marking the Ayuamarcans, those vital to The Cardinal’s plans. Most have been crossed off, but not Capac, and Capac Raimi is Incan for December. He is the last Ayuamarcan, if only he knew what it meant.

This story could have made a great crime novel with supernatural overtones, rather than a mediocre fantasy with horror and crime elements. While I am all for having the reader experience the magic as the protagonist does, it just takes too long for Procession of the Dead to feel like a fantasy novel. Having not read the original printing, I cannot speak to the “thorough revision” Procession has undergone at the author’s hands since its first publication. It also feels like a novel strangely out of time. Capac Raimi makes cultural references to Trading Places, Dallas, Bjorn Borg, The Graduate, all of which seem a bit dated for a character of Capac’s twenty seven or “thereabouts” years.

It is hard to say if the fault lies with the author here, or with how his publishers chose to market the book. Shan certainly has talent. That fact is undeniable. He has a real gift for turning a phrase, such as with the book’s opening: “If The Cardinal pinched the cheeks of his arse, the walls of the city bruised. They were that close, Siamese twins, joined by a wretched, twisted soul.” Procession of the Dead is proclaimed as a gritty urban fantasy, Shan is even likened to Neil Gaiman. Gritty it certainly is, but this is no Neverwhere. While Shan and Procession of the Dead held my interest well enough to see me to the novel’s end, I was left with little desire to read the next books in The City Trilogy.

Darkling

Sun, 27 Apr 2008 19:28:03 -0400

"Darkling" is the third book in the Otherworld Series by Yasmine Galenorn. While this book is in the middle of the series, it's possible to pick up this volume and start reading without feeling too lost. The recaps are brief but relevant and they're incorported into the story well so it doesn't interrupt the flow of the plot at all.

Readers are immediately introdcued to Menolly D'Artigo, a no-nonsence tough bar-owning member of the former Otherworld Intelligence Agency, otherwise known as the OIA. The OIA is defunct, since the administration collapsed, but some of its members remain active in order to keep humans safe from nasty supernatural creatures taht would try to kill them. Menolly is also a vampire. She has two sisters, one who's a shapeshifter and one who's a witch, who not only live with her but also act as OIA agents. When a renegade vampire starts making more of its kind, the D'Artigo sisters are called in to put an end to the nest and its sire. They recieve help from sources that are trusted and others that are dubious at best.

The book is a hodgepodge of mystery, urban fantasy, thriller, and romance with a cast that's highly attractive and a style that is fast-paced and entertaining. The strong female characters are nice to have in the book, though they're balanced out with plenty of men to help them. This book feels a little like it wants to be paranormal chick lit but can't quite bring itself to go there.

It isn't entirely light and frothy, there are some fairly graphic scenes of torture as well as some explicit gore. The D'Artigo sisters are hardly perfect though sometimes the exibition of those flaws seems like it really ought to have gotten them killed at least twice in this book alone.
It was a fun book to read. I certainly found myself looking forward to reading it and will probably seek out the previous two volumes as well as the subsequent ones in the series. There are friends that I would certainly recommend it to, especially those that like vampires and angst, though I would want to be sure I considered the age-appropriateness for some of them.

Unicorn Races

Wed, 02 Apr 2008 08:03:04 -0400

Unicorn Races, which is written by Stephen J. Brooks and illustrated by award-winning artist Linda Crokett takes us on an adventure with Abigail into her imagination. We watch as she finds herself in a magical forest with all sorts of magical creatures and treats as six very colorful unicorns race into the night sky

Stephen Brooks' story is one that will bring to life the wonderful magical creatures of the forest and is appropriate for children. Sometimes children's books either have a story too advanced, or have something that some parents might not approve of. This is not the case in Unicorn Races, it is a story for all ages.

"There in the deep of the woods, by a slow moving stream, was a royal feast prepared by elves and fairies of cookies and cakes..."

"The unicorns rose up, neighing and huffing, read for the race to begin."

Brooks paints a picture with words that Crokett does the exact opposite with by bringing to life with description her artwork.

The quality of the book is top notch from the nice puffy front hardcover, to the ultra glossy thick pages. This makes a nice canvas for Linda Crockett's artwork to be displayed. Each page is its own little piece of artwork that should be framed in a children's room, or printed out and sold on posters for people decorating young girls' rooms. Each page is sprinkled with a bit of stardust that truly makes the pages jump to life. The only issue I had with the artwork was that Abigail's face seemed to stand out a bit from the rest of the artwork, I do not know if this was something that was a conscious decision by the artist or not. Everything else was very colorful and dreamlike.

My two boys (2 and 4) sat through a reading of the book, they got really interested once the racing of the unicorns started as they both love racing. I have yet to try its wiles on a girl, but I believe it will be met with enthusiasm and enjoyment. This will be one of those books that your young girl will ask for night in and night out.

Shadowplay

Mon, 17 Mar 2008 19:40:12 -0400

Tad Williams has a knack for creating an atmosphere. His fantasy worlds are fully populated and full of fanciful imagination and realistic character interactions. When you read one of his fantasies you can imagine a whole wide world full of his imaginary people. Shadowplay is no different. The second of his Shadowmarch series, Shadowplay directly follows the events from the first book.

He starts off with the narrow escape of Princess Briony from her home as it is taken over by a treasonous branch of the royal family. The reader first follows Briony and her companion, Shaso, the former Southmarch master of arms and the man she had formerly believed to be a part of the murder of her brother, Prince Kendrick and who had thus been imprisoned for months. Theirs is an uneasy voyage; the princess has never had to fend for herself, has never been hungry and at first has difficulty with the idea of running and hiding.

The next thread for the reader to take up is the story of Prince Barrick, Briony’s twin, who has been given a secret mission for the Twilight People behind the shadowline following the Southmarch army’s defeat at the hands of those same People. Traveling through their lands, into unknown territory with unknown dangers and difficulties; Barrick is accompanied by Ferras Vansen, the former captain of the royal guard who is not only in love with Briony but has been charged by her with the safety of her brother.

While those are the two main threads of the storyline, Williams weaves into the story a handful of other players. Among these are the imprisoned King Olin, held for ransom by Ludis Drakava, Lord Protector of Hierosol, Qinnitan an acolyte of the Hive in Xis who has escaped and is on the run, Merolanna, the royal twins’ great aunt who is still inside the Southmarch castle, Chert Blue Quartz one of the Funderlings who not only has a very strange adopted child but is helping Chaven, the former royal physician work against the treasonous Tollys, Matthias Tinwright at poet at Southmarch, and Daikonas Vo a Perikalese mercenary sent by the autarch of Xis to return Qinnitan. As you can see from the long laundry list of players above, this is not a simple one act play. The reader is allowed into each of these characters minds and is able to see the world from their point of view as well as the view of the main characters. Some may find this distracting, the moving back and forth among so many characters, but I generally don’t as long as the number of characters that I enjoy reading about outweighs the number of characters whose stories I must wade through. Unfortunately, in my opinion, there are very few characters whose fate I truly wish to follow in this book. Thus I found the story to be very uneven with the characters I was interested in being thrown in like candy amongst a morass of plot and characters that I just did not care about.

While I found the plot itself, at its most basic, to be something I would normally enjoy; Williams’ need to throw in everything but the kitchen sink and to drag out certain storylines till they were dull as ditchwater made me sigh with frustration several times during my reading. With some hefty word count cuts and some judicious flashback and tale-telling use, I feel this could be a stellar book. The characterization is deftly handled, the political plotting and inter-character relations were all finely tuned and the realization of the world itself incredibly imagined. At heart, this is a good story and worth reading, though it certainly would not be harmed by a judicious cut back of about 100 pages.

Quest For Lost Heroes

Fri, 14 Mar 2008 21:26:55 -0400

I am a huge sword and sorcery fan. I grew up reading the mythical stories of Howard’s Conan , Moorcock’s Elric , Leiber’s Fafhrd and The Gray Mouser , and Moore’s Jirel of Joiry . The staging of drama, romance and high adventure set in a fantastic land have always held a special part in my heart—journeys started quietly that end up shaping the future of man. And above all others, I hold David Gemmell in the highest regard.

Like all quests, this one begins with a search. While all quests have different beginnings, they all inevitably have the same outcome; the quest becomes more of a journey to within—to the soul. The journey in Quest For Lost Souls begins with a young boy named Kiall and his journey to rescue a hopeless love and how through the power of his simple kindness, a whole world is changed and destinies fulfilled. Along the way, he encounters the heroes of Bel-azar, the city which was at the center of the last battle fought against the Nadir armies led by Tenaka Khan, the hero of The King Beyond The Gate . Years have passed since that epic battle of Bel-azar and the surviving heroes begin to question why Tenaka Khan allowed them to live, and why he named them the ghosts-yet-to-be. They will travel protecting Kiall to the heart of the Nadir territory and confront Tenaka Khan’s son Jungir who is now khan after his father’s death.

What I have always loved about Gemmell’s books is his overly didactic writing style like the beating of war drums. His action sequences move from point to point, his characters always driving the plot. Some may see this as his having a limited vocabulary, which leads to many of his stories seemingly ripped from one another. Still, what some may see as a weakness, I see as a strength.

Many of Gemmell’s books deal with the theme of love, mainly the folly of love; how love can destroy and bring down the strongest of men to children. Despite this, Gemmell also liked to look at the redemptive power of love; how love can change otherwise ordinary men to heroes—farmers to legends, carpenters to saviors. And with that, Quest For Lost Heroes is really all about love—familial, lustful, innocent and heart breaking.

Gemmell is a master storyteller. However, my fascination with Gemmell’s work is not just because of his thrilling stories and epic struggles. No, my fascination with Gemmell lies with the humanity he brings to his work. Gemmell has that rare ability that not many of his peers have—the ability to show the humanity of life through pain and horror. How the deepest of pains can be strength and how even in the darkest times heroes can exist.

I remember first reading Gemmell’s seminal work Legend when I was a kid. I was young, naïve and lost like most people become at some point in their lives. What I found within those pages was hope. As time passes and I grow older, I find myself remembering the moments spent reading Gemmell’s works, works littered with heroes far past their prime—too old, too lost, too jaded—yet no matter how difficult their lives are and no matter how hard they fight it, they are heroes. And when people need help, they are there. Not because they want to, not because it’ll change the world, but because they must, because it’s what’s right.

One of the many things I have taken away from Gemmell is that one man can change the world—how one man can “matter.” To be a better person, not because you want glory, but because it’s what’s right.

A life-lesson told through a tale of sword and sorcery? What more can anyone ask for?

A disclosure : I readily see the faults of many Gemmell books, but the sub-genre sword and sorcery is my first love and like any first love, we forget the faults and only see the beauty. However, without that love I can see how these stories may seem hackneyed, misogynistic and repetitive and I fully understand if anyone has those views.

Quest For Lost Heroes is a fine addition to the growing Drenai saga mythos and I happily recommend it.

If you liked this also check out: All of Gemmell’s works, Jirel of Joiry , Conan , Usagi Yojimbo , and Dostoevsky.