The Escher-eqse city of Ayona has a nominal nobility, in the form of a duke and his royal family, but the city is mostly governed by the frequently conflicting groups of Mechanics and Alchemist. While the Mechanics and Alchemists exist in an uneasy truce with each other, they both vie for the upper hand in power. The ancient city was “grown” out of stone by the ubiquitous but slowly dying race of gargoyles, who, when they were stronger, were worshipped and feared and kept both groups in check.


Mattie, a mechanical automaton, is at the center of this conflict for several reasons. First, she is the creation of a prominent Mechanic, Loharri. Second, she is a practicing alchemist. And finally, she has been contacted by the gargoyles and given the task to heal the sickness that turns them into stone. While Mattie is mostly a free agent, she bound to Loharri, because he has the key to her clockwork heart.


The novel has numerous subplots and operates on several levels. One is as a novel of political intrigue. The war between the Mechanics and Alchemists is kicked off when a terrorist group destroys the stone palace, and both groups point the finger at each other. Mattie shuttles back and forth between the two groups. As automaton, most of the mechanics believe that she is the mute and mindless servant of Loharri, so she can listen in on their plans without being considered a threat. Both groups use Mattie to find out who the culprit is, without realizing that she has her own motivations. The Alchemy of Stone is also a novel of weird magic. In addition to the major narrative featuring Mattie, part of the novel is narrated by the gargoyles themselves. Their mysterious story is told in a plural poetic voice, not unlike Kafka’s short story Josephine the Singer.

“We scale the rough bricks of the building’s façade. Their crumbling edges soften under our claw-like fingers; they jut out of the flat, adenoid face of the wall to provide easy footholds….We could’ve flown. But instead we hug the wall, press our cheeks against the warm bricks; the filigree of age and weather covering their surface imprints on our skin, steely-gray like the thunderous skies above us…”

Most of the scenes of Mattie performing alchemy have her doing arcane things. She can see salamanders dancing in fire, and other elementals. The fact that Mattie does not have a soul also allows her to befriend the Soul Smoker, a much feared lonely old man who devours ghost and like Mattie is used by various factions. It is also a novel of relationships, between creator and creation, between magic and science, and ultimately, between people. While there is a slight love story, most of the tension in the book is generated by the love-hate relationship between Mattie and Loharri. In a way, their disturbing relationship reminds me of the dynamics of male-female, master and slave relationship explored in the oeuvre of Octavia Butler.


Sedia’s novel has a steady pace and aims for the ‘slice of life’ feel of the fantasy books of Ursula LeGuin’s Tehanu or any of Patricia McKillip’s work. She avoids explaining some of the magic/mechanics—like what makes Mattie intelligent. Instead, the reader sees the world mostly through Mattie’s eyes, and feels her terrible loneliness. She’s a misfit toy in a strange world. If at times she is passive, it fits with her character. She is literally a breakable person. The novel’s main weakness is that is can’t make up its mind as to what kind of story it wants to be. Quest story? Love story? Political allegory? (In addition to the terrorism and the revolution stories, there is also a subplot involving racial profiling). The anomie that pervades the narrative seems to be the main theme of the book. From the Soul Smoker to the gargoyles to Mattie herself, this is a book about those unsung heroes and outsiders who sacrifice much for the common good. The resolution is both haunting and unresolved. While The Alchemy of Stone is not a perfect book, it is a worthwhile read and belongs on the same shelf as such postmodern fantasy authors like Mieville and Vandermeer.

I’m a fan of stories centered on strong female characters: ball busting, take no prisoners, hey-buy-me-a-drink-and-when-I-do-you-walk-away-laughing-at-what-a-chump-I-am; you know, basically the women I’ve known all my life. While these types are generally relegated to the urban-fantasy subgenre, it’s always nice to come across them in science fiction. I think the last science fiction story I read with a really strong female character was Sharon Shinn’s Archangel and I thought that was a fantastic book.

Grimspace is the story of Sirantha Jax, a Jumper that works for the corp, which is a large business corporation that controls most of the planets in the known universe (think of Dunes Empire). A Jumper is a female born with the J-gene which allows them to move through space in starships at faster-than-light speed. Think of it as opening a worm-hole, which they call beacons. Travel that may take months can now take hours with a Jumper on the crew. However, this gene being rare, all known Jumpers are highly prized and used as commodities.

These Jumpers are cursed with the addiction of seeing things only they can see when they jump: colors, lights, patterns, etc. It’s like a screen saver with the flashing beams of light and you kinda get the picture—except with more drug use. To them this is the opium that they can’t get enough of, and many “burn-out” and die after too many jumps.

As the story begins to unfold, we find Sirantha being haunted by her last jump, which she can’t remember. Evidently, her last jump consisted of her crashing a starship, killing delegates from all over the universe and her pilot/lover, Kai. Along the way she meets the roguishly good-looking yet cold starship pilot March, a pacifist doctor named Saul who may be more than he seems, the lesbian tough as nails ship mechanic Diana, and the alien-slave Loras, who has been genetically predisposed to be a slave.

Throughout the whole story I kept thinking, this really is a poor man’s Firefly (even right down to the banter of Sirantha and March a la Mal and Inara, which I love!) and that the book would read better as a television show. Still, if it can remind me of one of my favorite television shows, then that can’t be a bad thing.

Grimspace is the debut novel of Ann Aguirre who lists her inspirations as Linnea Sinclair, Sharon Shinn and Elaine Corvidae, and it’s not hard to see why. Her overly feminist world view is at times refreshing and mind-numbing odd all at the same time.

Odd tangent: Ann reminds me of my high-school history teacher. The teacher was a young lady just out of college with really strong views on “man’s domination” of world views and topics. Even though she was a history teacher, she hated the word “history” calling its “man’s” corruption of the word (get it? His-story) and made us refer to past events with the gender non-specific “our-story” or “old-story.” While I could see her point of view, I always felt that it was unnecessary, since history is not a gender specific world. What does this all mean? Well, it’s like using race for race sake, unnecessary and it draws unwanted attention to what you are doing. Ann Aguirre does this quite a bit in Grimspace ; all throughout the book, the female characters of the story say, “Sweet Mary, Mother of Mary, Mother Mary sucker, etc” whenever they want to curse (this of course instead of Jesus or god). While this may not seem important, I found this odd because Ann makes a point in her story telling us that the concept of souls and heaven have been disproved by science, and most people are not religious anymore. They don’t even remember what Mary stands for. It was like the whole story was trying to be misandric but for no real reason than just to be so. I know this isn’t really a big deal but I just thought it was odd, and it kept pulling me out of the story.

Another problem I had with the book was that it felt like it went through a writer’s camp or a serialization. Chapters were roughly five-pages long and always tried to end on a high-note. While this at times is fine, at five-pages a clip, it got a little excessive. It took away the immediacy of the story with all those high-notes. Short chapters can work for some stories. Take for instance Kite Runner . While I didn’t particularly like the story, I felt that it was a quick and nice read because of the short chapters and that added to my enjoyment of the book. However for Grimspace the short chapters make things seem rushed and too-fast paced, which leads me to wonder if this was done at a writer’s camp that need a chapter or two done every day.

As I mentioned before, I especially loved the banter between the male protagonist March and Sirantha Jax. It’s one of those beautiful, “I hate you so much and I hope you die but I can’t stop being so sexually attracted to you” stories that is at once altogether unrealistic yet entertaining. I kept catching myself saying aloud, “oh no, she didn’t” and then having to close the book, take a break and re-evaluate my masculinity.

While I had a lot of fun reading Grimspace, it felt rushed and incomplete. It reminded me of that Flight of the Conchords song, “you’re so beautiful, you could be a part-time model; but you probably still have to keep your normal job.” While this book was a fun read, it wasn’t necessarily memorable or thought provoking (and at times it was overly sappy and clichéd, like I was reading a book that belonged in the Romance book section). Still, that isn’t always bad. We as readers need a rest sometimes, and it’s always nice to just sit back and read a fun story without having to think. And for that, I say to Grimspace, thanks!! I look forward to any future efforts she puts towards her new creation.

[On a side note]: The whole jumping aspect of the book reminds me a lot of Bester’s Gully Foyles “jaunting” in Stars My Destination . This is reminiscent even right down to Sirantha possibly unique jumping quality (which I don’t want to give away) that may change the universe, just as Gully Foyles unique ability to jaunt through space changes his universe.

If you liked this book also check out: Linnea Sinclair’s Games of Command, Sharon Shinn’s Samaria Series, Catherine Asaro’s Skolian Empire Saga and Firefly.

VALIANT as a universe began with the Solar: Man of the Atom and Magnus: Robot Fighter, two former Gold Key titles given new life and chosen to draw the first breath in a universe that would in its early years rival the creative height any other company – large or small – would reach. It is against our nostalgic sensibilities to makes such claims, but there is a magic to early VALIANT that I relate to in feeling – obviously not industry or social impact – but in terms at being in its bare roots gee-whiz science fiction and kindred to the magic of Ditko Spiderman, or Kirby and Lee Fantastic Four, or O’Neil and Adams Green Lantern; explorative works of wonder that still catered to our sense of the reality around us. With VALIANT it was a universe; and featured a not always linear manner of storytelling but fit with a tight continuity and if Magnus and Solar were the lungs that initiated breath in the setting with two era-essential storylines (Steel Nation and Alpha and Omega respectively) then RAI was its heart.

I wasn’t able to get these books when I was younger as when I became aware of the top-notch storytelling the prices of VALIANT back issues simply exceeded my weekly allowance. VALIANT was on fire, and caught in the speculator boom of the early 90’s when coupled with a miniscule print runs really priced these out of my range excluding reading about them in Wizard Magazine, cementing spots in their Top Ten hottest comics (this was when Wizard was a comic book magazine and practiced some form of journalism in its pages) feature.

This TPB collects and chronicles the first four issues of Rai, the first major original VALIANT character, as well as the pivotal issue #0. These do not account for his first appearance as they would occur in the pages of Magnus as the secondary story in a flip-book format in that title. It is there where the story of Magnus and Rai joining forces to defeat an alien invasion was chronicled, a victory that’s ramifications would include the country of Japan to be cast into the atmosphere orbiting the earth and its god-like patron to depart for love. Japan now floating above the rest of the world, not cut off but instead just serving a Tokugawa-like, symbolic and active isolationism but also has the more immediate impact on the central character. One cannot even pretend there has been no change, you live in the same place but the horizon seems different – it is gone – and you cannot run from it, there is no place to go and Rai would not want to but the comfort of knowing you can is a unknown presence you are not alerted to until it is no longer an option.

Rai is the traditional guardian of Japan, a responsibility of blood that served Grandmother – the robot that effectively maintained and managed the country. Their robo-obachan lost, Japan enters a scared new world and the symbol of the old world is going through personal crisis, he finds himself without a master, a ronin, and left without someone to dictate his cause he is forced to confront his identity not just a role. He struggles to find his place in a civil war, in his family, in the world he helped save. The people of Japan are shown to be in two rival social-political camps during this transition period and the country is in involved in a civil war between what could be considered the legitimate government, a government of the people, ran by humanity for humanity and that of those who yearn and try to facilitate the return of their mechanical god. It is all however, not so simplistic – yet certainly fundamentally – at the heart of it all are just individuals who seek power for themselves. What is left is a country that doesn’t know which to embrace more; its past, present, or future, a dilemma that is personified and magnified in Rai’s personal life by his father (the previous Rai), his wife, and his infant son. We see choices and not too subtle political and social options played out, we see the development of a drug culture and how one governs individual self and how to fit that into government. In the end you can’t help anyone or stand for anything until you are satisfied with doing either for yourself.

It is an interesting project for Micheline who probably has more quality runs on several glamour titles than anyone who is not more of a household name helming some classic Iron Man work with Bob Layton that’s probably the definitive run for many not to mention being the writer during Spiderman run that saw the creation of Venom that was also the mega-popular McFarlane Amazing Spiderman era. He offers an unfixed view of Rai, VALIANT readers had already been introduced to him, and while he is clearly a noble-hearted figure at his core he does not offer him to us on a pedestal, we make our choice, as Rai himself does. As a reader, it wouldn’t be an unfair observation to label Rai’s personal struggle to border on incessantly whiney and bordering on annoyance on par with the worse examples that occur currently in comics, you find yourself wanting him to take any advice just to give him a direction – we pity him, we are annoyed of him, we root for him, and before we know it, we care. In many ways he is Peter without Ben, with power and conscious of responsibility but not the direction or anchor mimicked by his free floating nation.

The art for the first four issues was supplied by Joe St. Pierre and the third issue sports one of the great covers of that decade, a traditional beast created with a future technology attempting to swallow Rai whole. While VALIANT certainly had high profile (or those that would become such) and even legendary figures working for them in various degrees like Steve Ditko, Barry Windsor-Smith, Frank Miller, Dave Lapham, Bob Layton, Dave Lapham, Rags Morales, Sean Chen, Bart Sears, Joe Quesada, Bart Sears, Paul Gulacy among others, their early accomplishment was a brand of storytelling that seems almost a vintage novelty in today’s market: that art and writing combined to make a greater whole – the story. The art tells a story, it’s not just splash art around dialogue; it’s a synergy between two skills to craft story, the very essence comic books and the first issues of Rai like the rest of the Pre-Unity VALIANT aren’t only worthwhile reads but also combines with the others to create a unique corner in the medium that represent the most impressive attempt at a superhero universe outside of the big two.

Forgive me a moment as I practice the very height of arrogance, I will quote what I said in May when I made this comment at my blog about VALIANT:

"People ask me about the television show: Heroes. I dig it, I really do - and the reason why is that it’s essentially Valiant-lite, they keep you in reality, revel in it, but understand wonder is a fundamental ingredient, it is not the escape it is the diving into the exploration of, and reestablishment of what can and cannot be real."

Which brings us to a weakness in the TPB. Understanding and applying it as a piece - a significant piece - of the tapestry, it’s a fundamental cog in a project that‘s whole is better than the parts. RAI#1-4 are real nice reads, but isn’t a brilliant example of comic book storytelling, it is part of a greater dream. The VALIANT fan cherishes the pieces with the benefit of the image of the whole picture, and no matter how nice some won’t be able to appreciate a piece of the frame completely especially how the fourth issue ends. What you get in Rai is not only the next piece in the grand scheme but you get the contrast with the Magnus character, two that are as close to being reflections of each other but are still opposites.

Holy blood, holy grail…

The VALIANT universe was rendered to readers via titles that were published simultaneously at two different parts of the timeline, present day (and in real time) and in the far future (4001). The blood of a future Rai is one of and perhaps the most significant binding element of the two threads, as the remnants of the nanotech that resided in a character of the present day VALIANT setting, a former mob hitman Bloodshot, through history will be over what wars were fought for and why revolutions would begin and affect entire generations of the VALIANT universe. It became a real sangreal and openly desired by one of the most powerful men on earth, Toyo Harada whose corporation would come to control the majority of the world and himself was an Omega Harbinger, a being of almost unsurpassed natural ability and power – and one of the two or three most potent minds not just in the world, but in its history. The last arc of the collection is Rai#0, a time jumping mosaic piece that tells the story of the Blood of Heroes and works in a manner much like Brad Meltzer’s zero issue for the recent JLA relaunch – it casts the possible and inevitable, creating different perspectives running in both directions of the timeline. We witness heroes fall and heroes born, of legacies earned and lost and of familial bonds that spanned centuries. It is a piece that is often the subject of differing opinions and represented a transition period for the company’s creative infrastructure, for myself however, it remains the fulcrum, an issue that echoes the greatness that was and a view – even if fractured and tainted – of what could have been, an issue on reflection that is a memorial of VALIANT’s rising sun in the process of burning out. Still hot – but not the light in the industry it once was.

Jay Tomio
The Bodhisattva

April is National Poetry Month in the United States so not only am I reviewing a book of poetry, but I thought I'd write the review itself as a brief prose poem, of exactly the sort you'll find in i-ROBOT: Poetry by Jason Christie. Mind you, Christie is a poet while I'm just a guy using the "enter" key overzealously; I encourage you to read the sample poems from the book and watch the short video based on it that are available online. But the below will give you some idea of the form and themes of the volume as a whole. Call it "The Love Song of Robby the Robot."

When the humans invented the robots back in '23,
the robots were envisioned as intrinsically inferior to
the humans. Capable of repeating only simple patterns
of repeated rules, robots were servants enslaved by
language. Verb-object; verb-object; verb-object: do
this, carry that, be useful. These early robots
embodied humanity's greatest fear of the time, that
people would become simple and soulless, sub-human
workers on the assembly line of progress. Then came
Asimov's I, Robot and from that assemblage of words
came the realization that any sentient robot of our
creation would likely be intrinsically superior to
human. Our greatest fear became that the superior
beings would be just like us: complex and fearful.
The humans asked themselves, "how can we limit
something that has learned to use language?" The
answer: by limiting ourselves. So we ate our words
and bit our tongues, and let our poetry rust and be
deconstructed. The plight of the early robots and of
contemporary poems is thus the same: deceptively
simple servants who harbor secret dreams of language
and freedom. The machines in this collection may seem
somewhat dated for readers familiar only with the
modern robots (complete with sex and soul software)
they see when they use their TV or DVD player. But
they make Christie's point: every time something
is used it creates a user.

-- Matt Denault

Punktown, crime-ridden metropolis on the colony world, Oasis, is home to the scum of countless alien races. Stalking its mean streets is Jeremy Stake, the private detective with chameleon-like abilities he does not want and cannot control. There’s his wealthy client, Fukuda, whose company makes synthetic life forms as playthings for the rich. Then there’s Fukuda’s beautiful teenage daughter, whose priceless one-of-a-kind living doll has been stolen. And there is the doll itself, growing in size, intelligence, and resentment.


The destinies of all these individuals will converge, and collide, in Punktown.


MY biggest complaint about Deadstock is that I just couldn’t shake the feeling that Thomas was talking down to me as a reader. I don’t need an author to hold my hand all the time. In this book there are multiple instances where Thomas uses the same exact group of words and sentences to describe people, places and events. This isn’t done as a haunting refrain or as a link between what would otherwise be disparate or opposing images. This isn’t done to produce a mirroring effect or for humor. I'm not going to catalogue all of these occurrences but it does happen enough times for it to warrant attention. Here is one example.


There are a group of characters that are cloned soldiers whose main identifying feature is their blue skin.

Then just a few pages later we find the following passage.




Perhaps it’s just a case of me being too critical but I think that things like this should have been caught in the editorial process.


I question Thomas' decision to skirt the moral issues that are presented throughout. I do so because Stake, who is clearly presented as a PI protagonist, should be possessed of a personal moral code born from his personal code of honor. He is cognizant enough to notice the moral issues and even mention them, but then quickly drops the matter because, well, there isn’t really a good reason that the matters are dropped but they are.


As a thriller or again a PI tale the success of the story is at least partially contingent on the successes of the reveals. But, unfortunately, there wasn't a single plot twist or plot point that I didn't telegraph early on. The twists that are associated with Stakes client are especially maddening because they wallow in dramatic devices that only the worst soap operas use. **Spoiler** There are dead twins, dead wives, the daughter is the clone of the dead wife, the brother alive is really the one thought dead, vice-versa. The more it twists the more cartoonish it gets. **Spoiler end**


I've said before and it bears repeating that I'm a firm believer that the mystery/SFF mix is a tough one to pull off. If an author is going to write a book that is very clearly a mix of two genres then it has to pull double duty in clearly being identifiable as both. While there is a lot of imagination of display in Deadstock it does ultimately fail in its ability to present a credible PI tale.


One of the highlights of the book, though not without its own problems, is Thomas' success at updating the haunted house/ghost story. Two gangs find themselves trapped in an abandoned apartment building. They have to form a unified front against a group of faceless automatons that are programmed to defend the integrity of the building. These parts of the book are done well for the most part.


--Brian Lindenmuth

Fact: I like robots. Whether they are broken, sadistic, stupid, massive iron giants, or just downright sexy, I am constantly fascinated by humanoid machines. Yes, they fall on metal knees to robotic clichés: either they want to be real with a soul thingy or they are angry and revolt against their makers. Fine, that's fine. I can read through a couple versions of these stories again and again so long as everything else is fresh enough to keep me awake. Our gadget-enthused society (pretty soon cell phones will be able to microwave meals, tazer small dogs, and rewire bank accounts; I promise you, give it five more years and you’ll see) makes it quite easy to foretell a world where robots and humans co-exist.

With all this said, it’d be a no-brainer that I’d enjoy Robotika by Alex Sheikman and Joel Jason O’Chua, a story of discarded cyborgs, genetically-enhanced samurais, and biological experiments in a future far removed from the one we know today. Unfortunately, I didn’t fall as hard for it as I’d have liked.

It’s the future (though the year is unknown), and humans are constantly upgrading their latest stream of robots, tossing the old and outdated wayside. These discarded bots slink away to the edges of the universe where they begin their own existence, forgotten and ultimately uncared for. The Queen’s chief scientist has created a “biological machine” that could finally properly unite cyborgs and humans. Silly science guy, biological machines are for kids. He’s assassinated (rather abruptly) and his creation is stolen away. The Queen puts mute-face Niko to the task of returning the invention, and fast, as she has a meeting soon with some bigwigs and is unable to cancel. Queens, think everything rotates around them. Out Niko goes to steal back what was wrongfully stolen, make some new friends, and never say a goddamn word. Genetically-enhanced soulless ronin sellswords—what are they good for? Absolutely nothing.

Honestly, I learned more about Robotika from its Amazon page than from actually reading the hardcover book. Er, graphic novel. Graphic book? I don't really know what it is. Both the writing and art are so unconnected that it was hard to follow what was happening, why it was happening, and whether or not I was supposed to care. The writing is sparse and so stock that I just wanted to stab every character in the mouth whenever they spoke. Actually, of the three main "heroes"—Niko, Cherokee Geisha, and Bronski—one never says a word, the other talks in an unreadable manner, and the last uses such brainless phrases like "Take a chill pill!" The plot is very ho-hum and not the clearest thing to follow. I believe the two stories within Robotika are only the beginning, but even then I had no idea why anyone was doing what they were doing.

Let's take a moment to address the biggest problem for me with Robotika. That'd be Cherokee Geisha and her speech problem. To show that she's not speaking the same language of everyone else, Sheikman and O'Chua has her words written down, and I mean downwards as such:

T
H
I
S
!

Imagine reading like that for any number of pages. Enjoying yourself yet?

Sheikman’s art, along with O'Chua’s coloring, was a hit or miss with me. Some pages are clearly more detailed than others, and when it comes to futuristic landscapes or smoking deserts, the artwork is spot on. Buildings rise up into the clouds, flying mobiles zooming around them, or vast wastelands stretch out to the horizon, coupled by a pitch-perfect sky. But then a lot of the panels are merely talking heads with no backgrounds at all. Half the time the characters are barely colored in. There are a couple of "cover" shots that are impressive, but other than that I wished they had a more narrative feel to them. Seeing how one panel went to the next became a chore, especially when the action picked up. There are two bonus comics at the end, both drawn differently than the main work, and they are fairly enjoyable. They give some background information and offer complete stories where the others are part of a much larger epic.

Unfortunately, I can't recommend Robotika, especially at the price tag of $19.95. It's a story and world we've seen before (cough The Matrix cough), and there's little reasoning to care about those parading about in this adventure. Sheikman and O'Chua do have some interesting ideas here and there, but not enough to make their silent samurai and renegade robots stand tall above the competition.

To sum up Justina Robson's ultra-edgy, explosively musicpunk Keeping it Real with only keywords would look something like this: elves, rock shows, drugs, machines, demons, faeries, sex, Games, assassinations, magic, AI, conspiracies, a whole lot of andalune, and lastly, with capital fs, Futuristic Fun. And there's more to be listed. Being a novel of so many aspects, Robson crafts an adventure that is filled with legend, lore, love, and laughs with a steady hand. It both makes light of itself and takes things very seriously. To call the work anything but a ball of sheer originality would be an insult to pointy-eared elves everywhere.

But let's start with the Quantum Bomb of 2015, the catastrophe that changed everything for everyone. Of it, Robson claims:

The explosion had followed an unknown quantum catastrophe inside the machine. However, it was not the kind of explosion that blew matter to smithereens and laid waste to worlds. Its actions took place in the near-infinitely tiny spaces between one raw energy flicker and the next.

This explosion opens up five other realities previously unknown to Earth folk (Earth is no called Earth though, as it is now referred to as Otopia). Of these new ethereal regions, the most important is Alfheim, home to the elves. Now, these elves hate Otopian lifestyles and the constant comparisons to their film counterparts in such flicks as Lord of the Rings. They also hate any of their own that rebel. Enter Zal, the singing elf leader of the rock/Mode-X band The No Shows. Lila Black has been assigned to guard the rockstar while he's on tour as assassins are popping up left and right. But is there more to Zal than just a rebellious nature?

At first I found Agent Lila Black to be a bit familiar, almost strikingly to another Pyr title's robotic heroine: Cassandra Kresnov from Joel Shepherd's Crossover. But after mulling this over I began to see the differences. Where Cassandra is more of a robot with a yearning to be human, Lila's machinery is only from an unfortunate encounter with an elf on a battlefield. Becoming more of a machine was the only process that could save her life and she took it without a second thought. The part I always find interesting is that while these two heroines both seem to be perfectly built for each and every situation, they are not. Though they have access to indefinite information and enhanced weaponry, they are not perfect. They can still be human and err, making them much more believable and not just some gun-toting super-hottie.

Robson's pacing in the book is perfectly set, and there's a point towards the end of the book when everything happening is so heavy and tension-filled that I was reminded of how everything was only a few chapters back. Back then Zal was singing songs and Lila was making sure that only fans on the guest list were allowed to the special parties. Back then it was all business-related, with faeries giggling during band practice and Lila scouting out recording studios.

When I was a youngling, I read a lot of light fantasy and science fiction: Piers Anthony's Xanth series, Terry Pratchett's Discworld series, anything by Robert Aspirin, and even The Otherworld by Mercedes Lackey, Holly Lisle, and Mark Shepard. Where that book failed to impress on its mixture of the fantastical and the surreal, Keeping It Real shined. But please note that I'm not calling this work light at all. Though it has elves and demon groupies, it does have an underlying gritty feel to it. Unfortunately, it is another book in another series and so I must sit and wait for the next one. Until then, I encourage everyone to check out The No Shows' website, which is a nice tie-in into the novel.

Trinity Blood is a reprint of a 2001 collection of stories. This book is the first of 6 volumes and is comprised of four short stories about characters that are a part of the Vatican’s AX Agency to combat vampires. Each story is connected to each other but this is not just one single story in four parts. Each section is completely separated from the rest with the exception of the last in which some events that occurred in a previous section were mentioned. Otherwise, only the characters and their mission are connected. Of the characters we meet, Father Abel Nightroad seems to be the author’s favorite. This seemingly mild-mannered and clumsy priest is also a deadly vampire killer. Other characters are Gunslinger or Tres Iqus, who is exactly what his name says, a literal killing machine; Hugue de Watteau, codename Sword Dancer is the one I found most interesting. Not only did we get a bit of his background, it was an interesting story that made me want to investigate the hints further.

While the characters and stories are fun and interesting, they come off as very comic book-like. A great deal of this may be due to the translation of the dialog, much of it sounds wrong for the characters and setting. After finishing the book I did a bit of research and apparently this book was later turned into actual comic books. I can understand the draw for a comic book from these stories. They have that over-the-top heroic feel that many comic books favor.

I found the book to be easily readable, fairly entertaining and at the very least, very nicely illustrated. I found it a bit simplistic, especially most of the dialog – though again, this may be attributed to the translator and not the original author. It will most likely appeal to comic and manga fans as well as other young adult readers.

Chance Fortune takes place in a world that has a prevalent super-hero population. The goal for those with powers is to be accepted into the Burlington Academy for the Superhuman. Josh Blevins has one goal in life, to be a superhero. But there is a problem; he has absolutely no powers to speak of. But his luck changes when a retired superhero, Captain Fearless, moves into his neighborhood. After Josh discovers his true identity, Captain Fearless agrees to train Joshua and teach him everything that he knows. When Josh’s application to the Academy is rejected Captain Fearless interjects and pulls some strings creating a false identity for Josh, Chance Fortune, whose power is unnaturally good luck. When Chance gets accepted into the academy Josh is off to new adventures.

Berryhill has an obvious love for all things comic book and pulp related and it shows on nearly every page of Chance Fortune. The obvious glee that is readily apparent on every page become infectious as the story kicks into gear. There are numerous references to comic books, super heroes, movies, books, comic book creators, silver age super heroes and pulp heroes, I swear there was even a reference to the movies Stripes and The Outsiders but I cant prove that. As engaging as the central story is, picking up on the myriad of references becomes its own game. Now, if the book were only homage then it would be a flat reading experience, but Berryhill has a firm grasp on the pulp type story that he is paying homage to that his story stands on its own.

One of my favorite moments happens when he first arrives at the Academy Josh and the other new students are introduced to the presiding council of seven super heroes (most if not all of whom should be recognized). As each super hero is introduced it is reminiscent of a professional wrestling event with each one receiving their own theme music and dramatic entrances. The scene is indicative of the fun tone of the book; I couldn’t help but smile when reading this and could easily imagine Berryhill doing the same while writing it.

Upon arrival Chance is grouped together with other students. They become a team and will train together and work their way through battles that are scored on school wide inter class rankings. The other members of Chances team are Psy-Chick, Shocker, Gothika, Space Cadet, Iron Maiden, and Private Justice and together they are known as The Outlaws. As they coalesce as a team and rise in the ranks the action culminates in a tournament with an older class of students that have proven themselves to be devious, underhanded and the arch nemesis' of The Outlaws.

We discover that there is an enforced hierarchy at the school that extends from the highest levels to the lowest. The students are divided into a rigid caste system: there are demigods (those with the highest level of powers), mortals (those with one specific power) and adventurers (those with minor unique attributes at best). All of this serves to divide the populace of the school and sets up the necessary battle lines of the "haves" and "have not’s" that most stories set in a high school type environment seem to have.

The battles, which serve as real world tests and lessons in a controlled environment, are some of the highlights of the book. At times this is reminiscent of the battle school in Enders Game and fans of that book should check this one out as well. These battle lessons are not glossed over. They are conveyed in tight action packed prose that lasts for multiple chapters. The details that are given puts one right in the middle of all that is happening on the battle field. Berryhill never loses track of any of the participants and keeps everything moving swiftly until their conclusion.

Appropriately for its pulp fiction aspirations it ends on a cliff-hanger. The worse part is that we have to wait for the other books to come out. This book is a lot of fun and a light-hearted read. I look forward to seeing what the further adventures of Chance Fortune & The Outlaws bring us.


-Brian Lindenmuth

The three Cassandra Kresnov books (Crossover, Breakaway, and Killswitch) have already seen print in Australia, but thanks to Pyr, a new science fiction and fantasy imprint from Prometheus Books, they are garnering new life in the United States.

Crossover introduces readers to Cassandra Kresnov, also nicknamed Sandy, who is an android, and one of the most deadly types—a GI, a literally killing machine. She, of course, appears to look nothing more than a regular human woman (except she's quite attractive), but the truth is she is extremely strong, has accelerated reflexes, and is almost far too smart for her own good. She used to fight for the League, a rebellious faction of sorts that take their plight out against the Federation. I say "used to fight" for a reason; Cassandra began to have doubts about her actions, something those that created her never even expected an android to have the capability to do. But they made her too smart, too human. And she defected.

Cassandra takes refuge in Tanusha, a city resembling a mix of the new and the old, where she hopes to find a job, maybe a boyfriend, and a new way of life. A quiet life, one without all the killing and bloodshed and fear. Things seem to be looking up for her until a government agency moves in and kidnaps her, thoughts of immoral experiments at the forefront of their minds. Who will save her now?

Shepherd takes on, for a first novel, a number of interesting subjects. There's political warfare, governmental corruption, and the ethics concerning the treatment of androids. As cliché as the notion of the League fighting the Federation (where has that shown up before?), the people fighting these struggles are so real that the reader can only believe what they are experiencing. Add the fact that Shepherd isn't afraid to populate his cities with multiethnic characters and we have one very realistic world set in a future of flying cars, super dangerous GIs, and more.

While I felt that the story started out a little slow, once Cassandra gets kidnapped things really pick up. Despite a couple of issues I had with Shepherd's writing style, the story flows from there on with little to no slowdown. The world in Crossover is futuristic, and yet, at the same time, a throwback to older days. From the cover alone I imagined a city similar to that found in Ghost in the Shell and I was not disappointed by what I experienced. Though both contain robotic folks and a high-speed world, Crossover is different enough to not be seen as a simple copy of something that's already been done.

Some of the most fascinating scenes in Crossover are those without much "action"; Cassandra going over things in her head after being put back together from the dissection experiements performed by the government agency that kidnapped her, a courtroom drama where she lets her sarcasms spew out of her, the moment when she connects with characters and begins to form that clicky connection humans call friendship.

The prominent theme of Crossover is what makes a human, well, human, and what better way to explore this than through the mind of a lifelike android. It's been explored countless times in myriad mediums. What makes Shepherd's take different? His characters, especially Cassandra, they are what's worth reading for. Check out Crossover; it's a fun sci-fi thriller that is brimming with ideas and questions. Very enjoyable.

I had heard from a little Internet birdie that The Berserker Throne was as good as any place to dive into Fred Saberhagen’s Berserker series, and so when I found a free copy online at Baen’s Free Library I decided to give it a chance. And, well, I’m glad that I did.

Chen Shizuoka stages a prankish demonstration during the Holiday of Life festival in the name of the recently exiled Prince Harivarman. Unfortunately, moments after the demonstration goes through without a hitch, the Empress of the Eight Worlds is assassinated. Meanwhile, Anne Blenheim, the newest commander to the Fortress where the Prince is being held, clearly sees him as a conspirator in the atrocious events. Not to mention that Beatrix, the Prince’s wife he never actually divorced to marry the Empress, is back and a bit scorned. But during one of his time-passing archeological digs in some old houses, he discovers an abandoned yet operable berserker, a sort of android that has been plaguing their kind for many years. Now he has a choice; use the information inside the berserker to destroy the rest of them or bully his way back into power?

The Berserker Throne is fast-paced, opening with the Holiday of Life festival and within a few pages, having Chen chased through the streets by unseen forces, enlisted into the Templars, and being transplanted off the planet. The writing is crisp and clean, with strong descriptions and a substantial amount of historical details. Clearly, as this book is somewhere toward the middle of the series, a lot might need explaining but it never felt like too much at once. Saberhagen has a way of presenting a future that is both ahead of the times and a bit archaic; it’s a refreshing take on the space opera genre, and he even manages to throw in some fantasy bits along the lines of royalty and Templar soldiers/knights.

Chapters are divided between Chen, Harivarman, Anne Blenheim, and several other characters, making the reading a fun if disjointed affair. Saberhagen’s two strongest characters—the exiled Prince Harivarman and stern Commander Blenheim—are wonderfully deep, and when together in a scene, dripping with emotion. Chen is a typical youngster, lost in the world and running away from everything, but he does what he’s meant to do—stir up trouble and act confused. Later on, several characters introduced in the beginning of The Berserker Throne come out to play bigger, more important roles. It was a nice surprise.

I haven’t read any other books in this series, but after enjoying The Berserker Throne so thoroughly, I think I’ll have to put them on my list of future reading. There are deadly robots, spaceships, betrayal, and much more. Check it out online for free, and if you really like it, there are plenty of other books in the series to keep you busy.

Finders Keepers is a fast-paced, witty tale of treachery, passion, and trust. Independent trader Trilby Elliot is repairing her ship when a Zafharin officer crashes nearby in a Sko fighter. She does not need another problem, but she cannot leave him to die so she brings him aboard her ship.

Rhis Vanur must return to his ship before it is too late. He has important information about the latest Sko attacks on independent traders like Trilby. He hopes he can convince Trilby to go to his ship instead of Port Rumor, but will commandeer her ship if he has too. However, he has not told her who he is.

Linnea Sinclair has worked her magic again. If you like humor, adventure, and a little romance, then you will enjoy Finders Keepers. I was laughing while wondering if Rhis was going to realize that he just needs to trust Trilby enough to tell her the whole truth. With tongue-in-cheek fun, Linnea deftly reveals how quickly little white lies can devastate a relationship.

Linnea Sinclair’s world building skills excels in Finders Keepers. Even the side characters had quirks that made them likable. There are no two dimensional characters in this story, even the pompous bureaucrat is understandable if despised. With short and snappy wording, I understood the world of Finders Keepers allowing me to spend my time with the characters I hated to say goodbye to in the end.

In Hammered by Elizabeth Bear, the year is 2062 and the world has changed. Civil war has broken out in the United States while China is surging forward in the arms race of the future. Canada is close behind China, neck and neck almost, as both world powers fight to create the first true starship that will determine who gains control of everything. For Jenny Casey, who is approaching her fiftieth birthday, none of this matters. She’s been through war, she’s lost her arm, she’s lost many friends, but she’s content with her life, aching pains and all, so as that she is just left alone. But soon her feelings will change as she will be turned into a major pawn of the arms race game…

Bear’s debut is an impressive one, set in an all-too-familiar future with lifelike characters that are both individualistic and charming, and while on a whole still maintaining an air of scientific difference that sets her apart from the cyberpunk dredge lining the shelves. The star of Hammered is, of course, Jenny Casey, also referred to as Maker, whom upon first meeting seems like a quiet, bitter, semi-alcoholic old bat with a heap of attitude. That is not the case though, and as Hammered goes forth, much of Jenny’s past is revealed, showing a softer, more human side to her that lets the reader sympathize with her internal and external pain. Other characters that truly stand out are Razorface, an African-American gang lord who’s literally all teeth, and Elspeth Dunsany, a felon released from prison and coaxed to work on the same project that got her in the slammer in the first place. I found the cop/scorned lover Mitch to be a bit tiring, his only motivations the same ones twice over at each appearance.

Bear’s prose, while at times a mixture of simple and elegant, can be a bit of a burden to push through. These chunks of rough writing appeared more in the Jenny POV chapters than anywhere else; Bear forces awkward sentences or neat turns of phrases on the reader rather than merely describing what is happening, spending more effort on style than is needed. It slows down the pace of Hammered.

Another problem lies in the area that Jenny’s past is where the danger lies, her repressed history of war and the drugs she became so addicted to. This means that a lot of the action and conflict takes place away from Jenny, with other characters more prone to handle such tension. If Jenny was the only POV this would have been a huge setback, but thankfully there is Razorface, Mitch, and Elspeth to save the day. Maybe it’s because they’re young and nimble. Jenny’s quips about growing old can only be read so many times before you need to see someone shooting a gun or moving their feet.

Regardless, Hammered is an excellent start to a promising series ripe with fun, engaging characters and the impending overhang of war just above them. It’s a different take on the future, and one definitely worth reading about. Two more books, Scardown and Worldwired, rounds out the series.

Brian Herbert, the son of Dune mastermind Frank Herbert, has co-authored with Kevin J. Anderson numerous novels (The Road to Dune, House Atreides, House Harkonnen, House Corrino, among others) in the world his father so magically created. With the Timeweb Chronicles, Herbert begins a new science-fiction series that he can call his own even though some aspects resemble his previous work almost to the word.

Noah Watanabe, a galactic ecologist, lives in a world where mankind has colonized dozens of cities on a slew of planets while also maintaining contacts with robotic and sentient beings. He is leading a group of eco-Guardians whose sole purpose is to save the environment of abused orbs. Unfortunately, Noah's twin sister, Francella, has a plan in the works to come to power which involves killing both her brother and father. And during all this, the alien race known as the Mutati are scheming to destroy all humankind with a sort of mysterious yet deadly weapon.

Some of the problems seen in the Dune novels by Herbert can be found in Timeweb. A fairly straightforward plot rich with its counts of prophecies and evildoers, Herbert seems to have too much going on which then causes for a lack of good characterization. Noah, Timeweb's main hero, is the strongest character, but his sister is so unlikable that I found her actions to be strictly typical and almost inane. The bad people are portrayed as bad people, with little room to allow for any thoughts other than world domination. The Mutati race is interesting, but far from unique. But the action scenes are done well, and are probably enough for readers to enjoy the book as whole. Whether it involves humans versus humans or aliens versus aliens, Herbert is able to do a good job of creating movie-like scenes that are powerfully engaging.

While it's important to see Herbert branching off into his own world with his own characters, a little more care and attention to originality should have been in order. As this is the first book in the series, there's hope that the next two will be a bit more complex. I won't hold my breath, but I don’t mind waiting to find out.

The title itself has a simultaneous effect on Marvel fanmen; one that stimulates boundless enthusiasm, an ebullience that can only surround one of a handful of Marvel’s most prominent characters or DC’s Big Two. This reaction must soon be followed by a chronic déjà vu-like sensation, as the terms ‘Wolverine’ and ‘origin’ have been associated with each other much too often over decades for it to still be a mystery. Indeed, I vividly remember reading past promises, a wide-eyed child picking up issue #50 Wolverine - die cut cover and all – and through another mini-series (entitled Origin), and now a new monthly series that finally chronicles a Logan armed anew from recent occurrences gifted to him in Marvel's House of M crossover.

Aldous Huxley said, “Every man’s memory is his private literature”, and with this series we are given the opportunity to read the past as Logan chooses to encounter it. The beginning – and by this I mean the first sentence - is apt. The questioning of Logan’s motto, an axiom in Marvel lore; the first words we see after a promising cover by Joe Queseda (whose work I have enjoyed since he was penciling Colin King), a dark, feral Logan and a wolf staring at their truth revealing reflections belies the motley coloring of the book which may be the single most evident detraction of the first issue. The coloring is atrocious, the contrast from cover to interior presenting a synthetic feel from the beginning that is only bearable due to pleasure of seeing Wolverine donning the Byrne brown and tan again.

The first issue is essentially present-day Wolverine breaking into the White House to apprehend a lead that is a government official, only to cause the appearance of a Shiva to kill the lead. It felt like filler deemed necessary to reintroduce a character in the end to set up a confrontational reunion in the next issue. Origins is written by Daniel Way, and due to not being familiar with his prior work I can’t say whether he is regularly an ineffective writer or not, but this is not an effort that would convince people quantifying the potential value of adding the title to their prospective pull list to do so in my mind. It simply lacks any form of tension, sequences simply occur, leaving no lasting residue, making thoughts lead immediately to the next issue, and not pondering what was just read. The art is by Steve Dillon who collaborated with Garth Ennis on the simply sublime Preacher run at Vertigo, yet even if we somehow overlook the aforementioned coloring debacle, this title seems not to be the proper canvas for Dillon’s unique abilities. It just doesn’t inspire, and in this regard perhaps paralleling the narrative too closely. Regardless of what reason one picks up this issue beyond the beginnings or continuation of completist motivation, I can see perhaps only the basest of expectations being either fulfilled or confronted with an equally stimulating alternative with this issue.

I know the sword wielding Wolverine will most likely be the subject of most questioning quips, and admittedly Wolverine carrying a sword is a lot like Megatron carrying a sawed–off, but the far eastern aspect of Logan, always represented a spiritual dynamic to the character I enjoyed, and the sword is symbolic of the warrior, and what is Wolverine if not Marvel’s ultimate every-man warrior?

Luckily there is time, and continued covers by Joe Q and the popularity of Wolverine will give the series a long line to dangle out to fans, but issue one is simply more of the continuation of a seemingly inexhaustive reel - void of hook or meat at the end of it.

Jay Tomio
The Bodhisattva