Since the folks at EOS were kind enough to send me a copy of The Undead Kama Sutra, I felt that I should extend them the same courtesy and read this book. This is the third book in Mario Acevedo's Felix Gomez detective series, but I don't believe that it is necessary to have had read the first two books (something I haven't done yet).

Perhaps a plot summary is in order, because god knows after you finish reading my review, the summary may be all you want to know of the book. Vampire PI, Felix Gomez, is charged with finding out more information about the near mythical underground sex-tome, The Undead Kama Sutra. It’s held in such regard within the vampire community because it can “realign the chakra” causing vampires to “reverse psychic damage and heal mental and emotional wounds.” Hmm, how philosophical?

But wait, let’s not just stop there: positions in the erotic tome come with such hysterically knee slapping names as “Monkey Laughs at Moon” and “Feeding the Melon.” Can’t stop laughing at how ingenious the names are? Yeah, me neither—so funny! I kept waiting for the “Hidden Trap Door from Behind” position.

Sadly, the position names are the high point of this book. Honestly, I’d rather watch people perform Tai Chi in the park for the rest of my life than want to hear anymore about chakras and The Undead Kama Sutra. I’d rather Tae Bo around the US with Billy Blanks than watch anyone acting out the things found in this sex-tome.

Okay you may be saying, “We get it, but that can’t be all this book is about right?” Fair enough. I guess I forgot to mention that Felix Gomez has also been tasked with the dying wish of his alien buddy to “save the Earth women.” From what you may ask? Well that would be giving things away. Let’s just say, I envy you for not knowing.

Enough negatives, on to the positives—it’s fairly short. It’s also self-contained which is nice I guess. The story ended when the pages ran out. The cover was pretty nice. It was free. Is that enough?

I'm not entirely sure who this series is marketed towards, but it sure isn't me. I feel that the target audience for these books is the 14-17 year-old adolescent boy demographic. The demographic that love The Hardy Boys but always wished there were more soft-core titillation and blood in the stories. The same demographic that watches scrambled porn on cable, enjoys the spice channel, and laughs when they stumble upon their father’s hidden stash of Playboy magazines. I mean many of the characters walk around naked most of the time for no other reason than to be naked. If I have to hear another descriptive of, "she had a bikini that was too small for her breasts and she knew it", I'm going to weep—I’m talking about openly weeping without any regard to shame.

Also Mr. Acevedo's writing is extremely clichéd and weak. Characters go from point A-B with expository that seem almost ridiculously simple.

i.e.: I need to go there- So I get in a car and drive- Here I am driving- Still driving- I pull up to where I was driving towards- I get out of the car and here I am.

Basically, that’s how the descriptives go in this book. Take this "fine" writing and throw plot ideas in a hat and pull things out at random and you have what passes for a story here. I'm not giving this a lower score because like I said, I don't believe I'm the target readership and perhaps 14-17 year-old boys will love the cheesy "is that a pen in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me" dialogue. And besides, it knows it has its fair share of faults and doesn't take itself too seriously, unlike a lot of so called “literary” books out there. Now excuse me while I cry over the wasted hours spent reading this book that I'll never get back.

Not recommended for anyone who is old enough to buy a lotto ticket.

If you liked this also check out: The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Supercharged Kama Sutra Illustrated, the always heart numbingly fun “danger stranger” (if you don’t know what that means Google it!), any American Pie movie, and the absurd yet enticing Hardy Boys and the Rainbow Party.

My first foray into Glen Cook's writing was less than a success. I got through about 50 pages of The Tyranny of the Night and threw it across the room—page after page containing made up words with no explanation of what they meant. Every problem that people have with fantasy books was made evident in those first 50 pages and I had never gone back to a Glen Cook world.

However, I'm a big fan of the subgenre, urban-fantasy, and when I read that Cook's Garrett PI novels were an early representation of said genre, I quickly bought the first book. I should have left it collecting dust in the used bookstore I found it in. In truth, this is more of a detective story in a cartoony world than an urban-fantasy.

Sweet Silver Blues is the first book in the Garrett PI universe. It’s centered around a man named Garrett who works as a PI in a town called TunFaire, where its citizens consist of dwarves, elves, trolls, and many other fabled creatures. Yes, Garrett is a PI in a fantasy world where humans coexist with the other species. Sounds very similar to the Toontown in Who Framed Roger Rabbit , but with more sex and killing.

Also, pivotal to Garrett's world are two warring factions that have been fighting wars for land that contain silver—silver being the prime metal all sorcerers use for their, well, sorcery. A tenuous pitch at best. Nothing more concerning these sides fighting is explained, although I'm sure later books go into more detail, this seeming important. But honestly, I'm sure like me, you won't be able to rush fast enough to get out of Garrett's and Cook's world.

The main problem I had with this book is that nothing really happens, and for a short book that’s surprising. Garrett is supposed to be a PI but there is barely any detective work that gets done. When he needs a new clue, some goons attack him; he in turn beats the goons up; the goons cry and whine, spilling information which leads him to the next clue. Any detective work that gets done is done off-page—the character having done the detecting then comes back and explains how he went about his detecting. It's all entirely superficial and becomes increasingly irritating and boring.

Another problem is the action sequences. I mean come on! Most of the characters just spend the pages drinking, getting drunk, and then trying to recover from being drunk. That's mainly the action that gets done in the book. Why would I want to read page after page of others just drinking and talking about drinking? Thanks, but no thanks. I can just as easily be drinking and not reading this book.

Also, I have to take Mr. Cook to task with his dialogue. Again, his dialogue is peppered with too "cool" for school lingo that entirely exists in his own little world. Half the time I didn't know what anyone was talking about (and I've studied Dostoevsky, Beckett and Nabokov for most of my life!!). Cook's sentences are also quite terse and short, leaving much unexplained.

And what’s with Cook’s characterization of the different species? My god!! It essentially goes like this: Here is a dwarf—she’s short, yet somehow leggy and sexy. Here is a centaur—look at him run around with his large testicles. *Cue laughter.* I mean is this the best he can do? I mean, really?

The positives? It's a quick read, there are sexy dwarves, there’s everyone's favorite interspecies mating, and well, the series does continue in other books (although this as a positive is debatable).

As Peter Griffin in Family Guy so eloquently put it when faced with a stand-up comedy act he disliked, "You sir, are not for me. No. No, not for me, sir." Alas I must say the same thing to Mr. Cook. While I did finally finish one of his books, I must sadly say, "You sir, are not for me."

Not recommended unless you are dead set on wasting more hours of your life. Rated a low 3/10

If you liked this also check out: trains crashing, New Jersey, a day at the dentist’s, and the always enjoyable, high-school bully beating.

Unnatural History is the first book in the Pax Brittannia series, written by Jonathan Green. The story is set in 1997 in an alternate universe, steampunk era London. In this universe the British Empire has continued to flourish under Queen Victoria, now in her 160th year of rule. The Magna Britannia Empire now controls two-thirds of the Earth and has colonies on the Moon and Mars. Through references made to the Challenger Wing of the London Zoo, containing living dinosaurs, it can be assumed that this is set in the Lost World universe, created by Arthur Conan Doyle. That was, however, tossed in there as a stray fact and never explained. Stray snippets of information, which intrigued but were never explained, were a recurring theme in this novel.

The hero of our story is Ulysses Quicksilver, an adventurer, dandy gentleman, and agent of the crown. He made a grand entrance in the prologue, having been missing and presumed dead for 18 months after a hot air balloon accident in the Himalayas. He survived, and in somewhat stereotypical fashion was rescued and trained in the mental and martial arts by a band of monks. It did at least make for an interesting backstory, and his entrance made for an intriguing setup. Then neither the backstory nor that entrance ever became relevant to the story or to the character development again.

This book was extremely inconsistent. The initial mystery of a break-in and death at the Natural History Museum was very engaging. That entire mystery was solved, lock, stock and barrel, within about the first third of the book. Then we jumped ahead in a somewhat jarring fashion and moved forward as a diabolical plan continued to unfold. This tendency to jump ahead in the story and leave previous elements behind was a trend in the book. It got much more frustrating as the story progressed. Several times there were very good cliffhanger sections, which were then neatly resolved with Ulysses Quicksilver appearing in another scene with scarcely a mention of what should have a dramatic near-death moment. To me the intent was for it to appear pulpish, or reminiscent of old serialized radio adventures. In most cases though the discontinuity was too jarring for me to enjoy.

By the second half of the novel these near-death moments ceased to be dramatic. There were quite a few of them throughout the book. It became apparent that Quicksilver relied on some sort of sixth sense to warn him of danger in advance. This was never explained in the story and was written as if it had been well-established. Quicksilver also got himself out of situations more often by luck than by any particular skill. Deus ex machina was his best friend in the story, topping his painfully loyal manservant Nimrod. As much as that man put up with at the hands of Quicksilver that name must be apt. The author may have been going for a Bruce Wayne-Alfred relationship there, but it didn’t quite work.

In many cases it seemed like I was reading about characters and relationships that had been well established previously, although as best I can determine this is the debut novel for these characters. Case in point, Quicksilver’s archenemy, Jago Kane. Kane I think is Moriarty to Quicksilver’s Holmes. Quicksilver has a hatred of Kane, to the point that it breaks his otherwise dapper demeanor. Kane returns Quicksilver’s loathing. It is implied that the two have had at least one dramatic duel to the death in the past, at which time Kane was presumed killed. But again, all this information was assumed to be common knowledge and glossed over beyond just a basic snippet.

The two traded sneers, blows, and barbs that were not particularly snappy or well-written. But those scenes seemed far more important to the characters than to me, the reader. Despite the hatred Kane turned to Quicksilver to get vengeance for a double cross. I know that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, but as much as these two loathed each other, it seemed out of character. It felt like another case of forcing an issue to impart information to the main character.

In the end, against all odds, and thanks to more luck than skill Ulysses Quicksilver saved the day. Compliments of a full exposition of his evil master plan by the villain at a time when he could have been easily putting the finishing touches on his conquest or escaping, we got a full recap of the elaborately diabolical plan for destroying the British Empire as we know it and rebuilding it from the ashes, just in case all that wasn’t made pretty clear during the story from Quicksilver recapping the facts. That may have been to try to establish him as brilliant like Sherlock Holmes, but with all the luck he had to survive and save the day, I didn’t buy it. Nimrod did as much of the work as Quicksilver.

The bad guy? He escaped anyway thanks to a convenient ladder attached to a zeppelin that floated within reach at the perfect moment. That about sums up the story. Ulysses followed him to try to catch him, but jumped out of the exploding zeppelin, only to be saved from certain death by a pterodactyl that snagged him in mid air in an effort to make a meal. It then fortunately dropped him in the Thames River from a very low height. That may sum up the story even better. The final epilogue was meant to add more depth and mystery to the conspiracy against the British Empire. But it just made things seem more over the top, like no matter how high up into this conspiracy you get there’s always a higher level, and everyone, no matter what side they’re on, is a pawn in some master plan.

If you’re a fan of Britain, of steampunk, of almost non-stop death defying stunts and action by a smugly dapper British gent, or of dinosaurs or Neanderthals running amok, perhaps you’ll find this book to be rollicking fun. But I thought the constant brushes with death, miraculous brushes with good luck, characters that were both too flat and too over the top, and dialogue that alternated between British flair and not being well done or sounding British to me, almost as if two people shared the dialogue writing, caused it problems. The story started out well but seemed to lose a whole lot of steam in the second half.

To me Ulysses Quicksilver is not Sherlock Holmes. He’s not James Bond. He’s not Doctor Who. I don’t even think he’s Austin Powers. After reading the story it seems like he’s gotten to where he has in life by being extremely lucky, in the right place at the right time, and having a loyal butler who deserves a raise.

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.

Published just after the release of the fourth book but before the release of the first movie, “Exploring Harry Potter” states that its intended audience is students, teachers, and parents. However, after reading the book, it is unclear whether any of these groups would actually benefit from reading it. For example, parents and teachers should know that London is a large city in England, as should, frankly, any student capable of reading this book.

Schafer includes a variety of information in her book, including biographical information on JK Rowling and the history (and controversy) surrounding the Harry Potter series. There are also trivia sections, questions for discussions, games, glossaries, and such. The bulk of the book is spent on the series itself, in the form of plot summaries and topical groupings. Unfortunately, most story information could just as easily (and more entertainingly) be obtained by reading the Harry Potter books.

Further, Schafer’s work suffers from irritating factual inaccuracies: she misspells characters’ names, and gets plot details wrong.

Worse, Schafer’s work suffers from simultaneous over- and under-analysis. She states, for example, that the name Hermione “can represent… hormone, both alluding to her feminine tendencies to be sisterly and motherly to her friends.” (pp. 53-54). Are we to believe that only females – not males -- have hormones? And is really true that “hyper-parental” Hermione more “motherly” to Harry than Hagrid and Dumbledore are? And I always thought that prudent Hermione represented the voice of reason, commonsense, and caution! What makes this section of the book particularly funny and ironic is that the author concludes it by accusing Rowling of stereotyping her female characters.

An example of under-analysis… Schafer comments that “Harry does not… offer to share his wealth” with the Weasleys. (p. 51). Would it not be rude (and inappropriate) for a child to reimburse his friend’s parents for sleepovers? Would it not be ruder for that rich child to tell adults, “Hey, let me spot you some cash. You’re looking a little low”? Would it not humiliate Ron Wealsey – already sensitive on the subject – to have his friend give him money? Perhaps some of those reasons are why Harry takes every opportunity to share his wealth with Ron by offering gifts.

Despite having obviously done a lot of research, Schafer does not connect her research to the Harry Potter series. In some places, she gives no explanation at all for her “insights.” For example, Professor McGonagall’s “Scottish last name hints that she is both bold and bitter.” (p. 58) How so? Are we to believe that people of Scottish ancestry are bold and bitter? And how does “Pettigrew’s missing finger symbolize his inability to make his point effectively”? (p.66) From where does the author get the notion that the basilisk “has a gaze that is deadly, symbolizing the blindness of racism”? (p. 69) What does this statement even mean?

If I did not go very far into the book to quote the above examples, it is because I did not have to; “Exploring Harry Potter” is chock full of such unsatisfactory and muddled reasoning. Schafer’s book is a difficult read – not because it is at a high reading level, but because her “analysis” is little more than random connections of Harry Potter trivia to history, mythology, psychology, and other disciplines. It is as if she believed simply inserting the words “symbolizes” or “represents” into every other sentence is a reasonable substitute for critical examination and genuine insight.

Should you choose to read this book, you will (within a few pages) understand why the cover states that it is “NOT approved by J.K. Rowling.” What is particularly sad is that the Harry Potter world and series are so rich that they should easily lend themselves to the fascinating commentary promised on the book jacket. Instead, my recommendation is to look elsewhere.

David Drake, also known as “the master of military science fiction” back in the late 80s and early 90s, is probably best known for two series: Hammer’s Slammers and Isles Series. Both completely different in setting, characters, and plot, I prefer the man’s dark militaristic science fiction to his epic fantasy. Drake served in the army from 1969 to 1971 and saw action in the Vietnam War, which to me, shows strongly in his writing.

Surface Action, a book about the ongoing war on the planet Venus, was originally planned to be packaged alongside Henry Kuttner’s Clash By Night as its sequel, a sort of classic and contemporary pairing. Some things got misconstrued and the project idea got scrapped. Drake finished the book, but removed all references to Clash By Night thus making it completely his own.

Was that a good thing? No.

Surface Action felt completely off. What originally started as a hard science fiction military romp on a dangerous planet mutated into a whiny, nonstop plot-heavy YA novel. Meet Johnnie, your average teenage boy. He likes music, girls, hanging out with friends…no, wait, he doesn’t. He only likes guns and shooting alien entities. If by chance he liked those other things, Drake would have had to take time to actually flesh out the boy’s character. And with a war going on, who has time to care about people, right?

I also wasn’t completely sure of the timeframe of Surface Action either. It seemed as if the book takes place entirely in one day—from morning to night. I’m not sure of this, but that’s how it seemed to go. No one slept, ate, or seemed to have to pee, but maybe that’s just how it goes during war. I personally wouldn’t know, but there was never a moment to breath.

The biggest fault with Surface Action is its sheer arrogant pursuit in avoiding all human emotions, relying on gunshots and explosions to fuel the story forward. This is not the case. I don’t care if Johnnie would have taken a bullet to the chest or a tentacle round the neck—and he’s the main character! A good book generally has a character that we can feel sympathetic to. This was not the case here.

Some readers may enjoy the hazardous plants and creatures on Venus, but to me, they were a bit generic. Granted, this book was written in 1990 so they might have been the new weird back then, but in today’s standards they are nothing more than rehashed critters.

For excellent, endearing military science fiction check out Drake’s Hammer’s Slammers series. Otherwise, just stay away from this one. You might get hurt.

[Dragon's Hoard Publishing, 2004
pp241, ISBN: 0-9738262-0-7]

Dragons are small on the planet of Rift. In fact, they look a lot like lizards and, aside from being sentient and inclined towards cheeky banter, have more in common with your average Gecko than with Glaurung or Smaug. Nevertheless, they’re still magical critters and when Aldo Nightingale, our protagonist and a 19 year old musician from our own world, recovers consciousness to find himself stranded alone in another reality with one for company, he’s understandably disorientated. One minute he was playing the guitar in his tiny squalid apartment and the next holding telepathic conversations with Figment (as said dragon is known) in a forest.

What follows is a fantasy adventure in the traditional mould – Aldo discovers hitherto untapped magical powers associated with his musical gift, falls foul of the local blood-magic mage Parathos and finally constitutes one of a trio of companions (and a gaggle of dragons) on A Journey. His first cohort - Akiahr - is also dimensionally displaced, having been scooped off Earth with his partner Hunter (who, subsequently lost in the crossing, has ended up on another planet altogether). But unlike Aldo and the mediaeval-esque natives of Rift, Akiahr isn’t human but Zarai, a technically advanced species descended not from primates but from giant cats (and, happily, hailing from the very planet Hunter has been deposited on). Zarai males, bred by the females for stud and prize fighting, are usually both feral and highly sexed; Akiahr is both and yet strangely, somewhat neither. Ishandi, a mercenary on a holiday jaunt with her ridiculously named warhorse, Bunny, completes the trio.

The overarching Quest of the novel, and the purpose of The Journey, is a little obscured throughout by the somewhat heavy-handed establishment of the above characters and their motivations, but boils down to this: the barriers between the three worlds of Rift, Zarai and Earth have been breached, causing dimensional breakdown. The cause is on Rift and Akiahr’s people have decided to recruit him and Hunter (without telling them) to identify the problem and halt imminent disaster…unfortunately they get separated and thus the Quest of the novel becomes finding each other again. It also seems quite clear that the blood-mage Parathos is behind lots of nastiness *and* the big problem (or it might well be the mysterious Golden Queen), and that Aldo, reinvented as bard-mage, is going to be instrumental in saving the day.

The synopsis should imply two things. One that “Rift” is absolutely in the mode of high fantasy: dragons…check…bards…check…mages…check…evil queens…check…mercenaries…check…quest…check…impending doom…check…luckless teenage hero…check. But also that it makes some attempts at challenge. Aldo is not really your average stable-boy-turned-saviour; he’s been institutionalised and abused on Earth, and, even though this past is sometimes gratuitously vile and far too easily overcome, it’s still technically thought provoking. For many years he mistook the voice of Figment, previously only in his head, as a self-delusion, an imaginary friend invented to sooth his loneliness. Equally, Akiahr’s dangerous sexuality – his artless promiscuity divorced from his emotionally monogamous relationship with Hunter – is out of the ordinary, and the construction of Zarai culture is an attempt as something anthropological. Perhaps there is even a shade of Le Guinian influence.

It is a shame then that “Rift” suffers from two common problems: impatience and character indulgence in equal measures. One moment the writer is too eager to move from one scene to the next and rushes the narrative cycle, dissolving any tension and forcing the reader onward, while the next moment they’re indulging a character in lengthy scenes that drag without any dramatic momentum or emotional revelation. It needs to be broader, slower and intuit much more psychologically.

Another related dictum, somewhat abused in “Rift” and much discussed in creative writing class, is “Show, Not Tell”. Telling and not showing is, I think, a sure sign of an inexperienced and over-enthusiastic writer: it smacks of a distrust of the reader and a strong desire to utterly shape character. In telling an audience *exactly* how an individual feels, and not relying on their actions or dialogues to show it, leads to a kind of florescent two-dimensionality. This propensity towards over-characterisation is ubiquitous throughout “Rift” – we’re just told too much too often to really appreciate an individual’s subtlety. The best character piece in the book is early on. A flashback to the moment when Akiahr’s mother first sees the son she’s bred and muses on his future as a stud and a gladiatorial fighter; the cultural nuance surrounding her proud, but cool responses make her the most satisfying of all the novel’s players.

The prose itself is generally uneven, but I think this may be a natural result of the book being a collaborative effort (I assume Melody Tiamat is a pseudonym for the three individuals named on the title page, although I may be wrong). Still, it’s not without its charm and this is true of the dialogue especially.

Finally, a word about audience: if not for Akiahr’s sexual assignations, not graphically described but heavily implied, I would have few qualms about recommending the novel for children who enjoy fantasy adventure. Would I recommend it equally to adults? Probably not and that, in the end, is the reason for the relatively low rating awarded. While I didn’t resent reading the novel, and found myself mildly entertained at intervals, there were times when I felt a good deal of frustration and disappointment (the ending in particular made me cringe). It all felt just a little too easy, a little too arbitrary and finally, unfulfilled.

Ultimately then: a promising premise, pleasant enough, but lacking the ingenuity and narrative experience to really make good.

_{Fantasybookspot - fantasy book reviews and fantasy book author interviews}

I’m on a bit of a odd streak in regards to reviews. This will be the third consecutive relatively new release, while also being the debut work of an author I have reviewed; the others being Holly Phillip’s In the Palace of Repose, Eldon Thompson’s The Crimson Sword, and will soon be followed by a fourth, Steven Oliverez’s ‘The Elder Staves’. It’s always great fun reading works by new authors especially when all four of these works are so completely different thematically, stylistically, and where they fit regarding to sub-genres. In short, a little something for everyone, to either avoid, or think about as a next purchase.

I recently received a copy of Jonathan Moeller’s Demonsouled, a very traditional addition to the genre that focuses on the character Mazael Cravenlock. Mazael is going home, and accompanied by his best friend Gerald Roland, a son of a lord, although not the heir, to investigate reports of the recruiting and massing of sell-swords and bandits in the lands that are ruled by Mazael’s family, where power resides in his older brother Lord Miltor. Other Lords in the land, chiefly the powerful Richard Mandragon, “the Dragonslayer” have noted the gathering of forces by Miltor, and think he may be posturing for war to avenge a failed campaign between the two factions in the time of Miltor’s and Mazael’s mother and father. On the journey home, Mazael and Roland will become what seems to be beacons drawing other companions to them, representative of many of the basic character classes that “gamers” would feel accustomed to seeing in a fantasy novel, who will aid them in what is appearing to be the not only the risk of the escalating tension of war, but also an investigation of queer, unnatural, and decidedly “evil” happenings occurring in and around Cravenlock ruled lands. Some say the dead are animate and walking again, pointing an accusatory finger at the presence of a Wizard of foreign origins (oh those illegal-alien spell casters) who presently basks in high favor with Lord Miltor, who places great import in the words and council of the Wizard. Others blame the mysterious, and dubiously viewed Elves, snatching members of the population at night, for their own nefarious ends. The most personal of all the innuendo reaching Mazael’s ear is the rumor of his family’s possible involvement with a “evil” snake cult, and the damning historical evidence that connects his family and land to them, being spread by Lord Richard Mandragon, and his allies.

Mazael certainly isn’t the only character in Demonsouled. A cast of characters representing such a number of classes join Mazael’s band that it would make Gary Gygax and Ed Greenwood blush. Unfortunately, much like Gygax and his brethren, the characterization in Demonsouled seems to involved and tied to the traditional representations of the classes themselves, leaving no real sense of freshness, originality, or individuality emanating from the characters – we know how and why they will react to certain things because we have seen them all before, and many times. Gerald, Mazael’s best friend is a Paladin in all but name, he is a good man, good natured, heroic, and finds the time to make sure he is not lacks on attending to his prayers. His character is in contrast of Mazael, who although is unquestionably brave, and instilled with a strong morale sense of right, is motivated by his own desires more then Gerald, whose motivations come from a sense and belief of a greater good. They will come across Romaria Greenshield, a rare and beautiful half-breed sent by her people to investigate the aforementioned tales of necromancy, and to find and destroy its source, however, her most important roll, and the one brought on by destiny is the soothing effect she has on the troubled Mazael. We will also meet Mazael’s two oldest friends, his teachers whose positions within the Cravenlock regime had been reduced to essentially early retirement, the rotund Wizard Master Othar, and Nathan Greenheart, a man equally reputed for his prowess in battle as he is for his honor. Joining this group will be a young Wizard who Mazael accepts under his charge Timothy, who in some ways was the novels most thoughtful character. Joining them later in the novel will be Silar, a Cirstarcian monk with stories of ancient bloodlines, and clandestine cults.

Mazael himself is depicted as a peerless, and at times supernatural warrior, who is as intrepid as he is skillful, however, spends most of the story worried about his sister who is happily engaged to a Sir Albron, who along with the aforementioned Wizard (the foreign fellow) Simonian, are given to the reader to mull in there mind which (or both) are behind the chicanery that is leading to war, which may be less paramount then Mazael’s own inner struggle, and his increasingly apparent divine pedigree which potentially has worst implications than any war can bring.

Admittedly, the premise isn’t exactly innovative but it’s not necessarily a weakness either The characters are somewhat 2-D, and are static in nature, but Demonsouled does succeed in being a fairly entertaining, point A to B linear story, that many fans of traditional fantasy will feel familiar with. There are a couple of elements within Demonsouled however that just at times drove me up the wall, and it’s more structural then thematic, for instance, here is a combat sequence:

Another example:

Another example:

The book is riddled with an abundance of passages made up of short sentences that gave a brusque feel to the work. I didn’t scan for these examples given, I merely indiscriminately flipped to pages. There is an alarming absolute lack of any sweeping descriptive passages, and it in fact is a bit of a task to locate a complex sentence within the work. The language left me emotionally unattached, better suited to be read out loud, then read in my opinion. Another element that really detracted from my ability to enjoy the work in the beginning was after we meet Mazael, starting with the very next person he meets (his friend Gerald and his squire Wesson) Moeller seems to have the desire to tell us how easily Mazael can kill the man if he desired to do so. This is a case of telling and not showing, and although I understand the basis for Moeller doing this - establishing certain thought processes and perhaps tracing a transformation occurring within Mazael at the very onset of the novel, its execution makes the surrounding passages disjointed, and ultimately were unnecessary.

There are some positives. Moeller both gives us a complete story in one installment, and yet establishes enough back history in the novel and leaves enough intrigue open to revisit the setting either earlier or later in the timeline with equal effectiveness. The back history Moeller established in the world is a plus and gives the setting some effectiveness that is lacking due to the lack of description found in the narrative. The writing does improve rather dramatically in the last quarter of this novel (which is 400+pages in its entirety), being less disjointed, and being more focused on a Mazael and his personal struggle. This novel will appeal to a segment of fans that happen to be the most numerous in number in the genre; it’s a straightforward, linear, rather action-packed, fast moving tale of a warrior struggling with himself, waving his magic sword around, with his numerous companions in tow. My favorite part of the novel occurs really late in the work, when we are introduced the Lord Mandragon and his family, his two sons one a powerful wizard, the other a quick to tempered warrior, and there relationship provide for an interesting and refreshing breather from the main plot, although their role is brief.

For my personal taste however, there is just simply nothing here that denotes the presence of an individual style, and if the choppiness, and short, laymen-like sentences is the style, it’s simply one that failed to really ingratiate itself with me. As a rule I have found if there is any mystery regarding a antagonists identity, nine times out of ten I have found any form of ‘Simon’ is a dead give away, in this case Simonian is almost a gimmie (not really a spoiler trust me, so admitteldy my mentioning of is a bit tic-tac; blame it on Jonathan Stroud who did the same thing in a novel I read recently - I'm not using it as any detraction in the novel relative to my final grade).

A solid debut novel of an author whose progress I’d really like to see in a following work, my final grade for Demonsouled is a 3.5.

Jay
The Bodhisattva.

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The juvenile Fantasy rage continues and it’s really quite remarkable to watch. Every week one will see a new offering targeting the Harry Potter fan-base, some of which are in my opinion admittedly better than JK Rowling’s industry outlook changing giant, such as Philip Pullman’s incredible work 'His Dark Materials', and others that are solid entities in their own right, like for example my recently reviewed Garth Nix's efforts Mister Monday and Grim Tuesday. However for every wonderfully engaging, thoughtful efforts like Neil Gaiman’s Coraline, or Clive Barker’s Abarat there remains a myriad of other novels and series that seem not only dependent on the Potter phenomena, which is not a negative, that’s just opportunistic, but seem compelled to limit themselves in the same mold as Rowling’s work yet never being remotely close in the same vein in the one that category that matters - quality. I’m certainly nothing near a 'Potter Head', however, I do think it is a solid series (particularly Rowling’s latter efforts), which is why I always find it amusing when I read reviews that inevitably have remarks like “move over Potter” or the like. Which brings me to the subject of this review, The Amulet of Samarkand, Book One of the 'Bartimaeus Trilogy', written by Jonathan Stroud. Some questionable novels sell well and get remarkably good fan reviews (See Eragon), and while I don’t consider this novel dire, I just cannot fathom what would prompt the numerous glowing reviews I have read for The Amulet of Samarkand.

Stroud’s chosen setting for the novel is London (where else?) at a time when England was a powerful nation, and its entire government is made up of Magicians. Non-magicians are labeled “commoners”. Stroud conveys the story exclusively through two different points of view, one from that of Nathaniel, a mage-apprentice and one from the perspective of a Djinni the trilogy’s namesake, Bartimaeus. In Stroud’s world, established Magicians take on apprenticesnot their own offspring, and Nathaniel is no different. In this case, Nathaniel’s common parents sold him to the government, and he was assigned to Arthur Underwood a magician of some position and tenure if not bountiful respect from his peers or blessed with overwhelming ability and his subservient, kind-hearted, wife Martha Underwood. The selling of children is illustrated to be quite common, which goes along with never seeing the original parents again and Stroud explains this with one of the few interesting aspects of the novel. Stroud’s magic system is set up rather simplistically, rather like I envision Pokemon, and although magicians are capable of offensive and defensive spells, the true nature of their power is the ability to summon. More powerful magicians can summon more powerful levels beings to attack, spy, guard, or whatever they desire. The ability to summon, and what you can command safely is regarded as the measuring stick of power in Stroud's world. For instance the Prime Minister of England has teh ability to summon an Afrit, which Bartimaeus explains to us out of the commonly used creatures a very powerful summoning second in power on his list which in descending order goes Marids, Afrits, Djinn, Foliots and Imps. Bartimaeus points out there are a huge number of classifications below Imps, but mentions they are largely unused, and several classifications that are more powerful than Marids but are hardly ever used due to the extreme danger in doing so. A magician can summon as many beings as he or she wishes as long as they have the knowledge and expertise to summon them, and more imortantly control them. Failure in the latter means death. Magicians defend themselves in a number of ways, including spells, drawings etc, and generally summons do as their bidden, largely powerless, just so they can be dismissed quicker and be on their way. THE major rule that all magicians are told is to never allow a summoning to glean your birth name from you or anyone else. The repercussions of having one's birth name compromised is the Magician losing the ability to control a summons, and is in essence are left on equal terms with a summoning which in the majority of cases is heavily slanted in the summon's favor. This is the reasoning for apprentices not being with their birth parents or ever seeing them again, as magicians upon turning sixteen are given a new name, and until then, they are called by the last name of their master, to insure confidentiality of their true name thus protecting them.

The Amulet of Samarkand's plot is as one would suspect, rather simplistic. Nathaniel was once slighted, embarrassed, and chastised by two magicians at a gathering being hosted by his Master. The magician chiefly responsible for Nathaniel’s lecture was Simon Lovelace, who fills the role as Stroud’s antagonist. Nathaniel, never forgetting the slight, educates himself more expediently than his Master knows, and summons a being that should be beyond his scope, Bartimaeus. He charges Bartimaeus to steal an artifact (The Amulet of Samarkand) from Lovelace, that he has seen in his possession by magical surveillance. What Nathaniel doesn’t know, is that Lovelace recently acquired the artifact himself through rather extreme channels, and was planning on using it in a plan to consolidate and expand his own personal political power and influence in English Parliament. I would love to break this down even further but truly that’s the plot in its entirety. There are only two characters in the novel given and amount of extensive time or care in the novel, and that may be an overstatement as it is.

I noted the two perspectives Stroud uses for his narrative, and I’ll start with by far the most entertaining, and what is honestly the half of the novel I found worthwhile, that being Bartimaeus. Stroud switches POV’s from chapter to chapter and Bartimaeus’s are written in the first person. Bartimaeus is a Djinni. A Djinni is a race of spirits chronicled in Islamic religions and Semitic mythology. The terms is interchangeable with the Arabic Jinni, which most of us are familiar with from 'The Arabian Nights', or perhaps others with Disney’s 'Aladdin'. Bartimaeus is a fun, confident and witty character, whether reflecting on past historical events he was privy to (he missed out on Atlantis, he was at Egypt at the time) or his constant sarcasm directed at everyone. Bartimaeus provides a nice avenue for Stroud to explain magic, magicians, summons, and several other insights based on his observations. In fact the overwhemling majority of the enjoyable segments of The Amulet of Samarkand are contained in the often-whimsical footnotes found in the Bartimaeus chapters, as well as the vast majority of the execution of the plot is told in the Bartimaeus chapters (excluding the very end).

Nathaniel is simply the subject of one of the least enjoyable, uneventful, reading in regards to a major character in recent memory for me(especially considering there are only 2 characters to speak of). He is just not interesting, and is ultimately useless during the entire novel unless in possession of an item anyone could make use of. It is true, that he is depicted as beyond his years in his understanding of magic application, but as I said magicians are limited in Stroud’s setting anyway to summons. The entire premise of the story is based on Nathaniel seeking revenge on Simon Lovelace for really a very petty and trivial circumstance. Sure he was embarrassed, but his reaction seems almost psychotic in nature. You go through the story supposing to feel empathy for him, being sold by his parents, a demanding master, embarrassed at a gathering of peers and betters, and is shown compassion by only one character, Martha Underwood, and yet upon reading the novel, I find I feel no compassion for the character, as he exhibits no redeeming qualities - and worse yet he is not interesting, nor is his plight. He is immature, full of himself, and unaware he’s an elitist snot (which is actually a pretty good spin on the characterization, as it fits the world). I found myself enjoying his suffering when it occurred in the novel. Even at the conclusion of the novel, his actions are just pathetic in nature (regarding his dramatic nature, and explanation of events). Because of this, I found half the novel rather bland, and a chore to maintain any semblance of interest in.

Honestly, the book rises and falls with Bartimaeus, and because he is the only source of interest in the entire novel, even his chapters started wearing on me toward the latter portions of the novel, hwoever, I will count him as a positive in the novel, and the only one. Lovelace never earned my interest, or my respect during the course of the novel, which is essential for a novel’s antagonist. The support characters are not at all given any semblance of depth except as subjects that affected Nathaniel. Arthur, who exhibits his yellow stripes in the novel, is used as an educational experience on how men of power (magicians) really are, as told by Lovelace:

Martha Underwood serves what he thinks is his conscience, but is truly the sole embodiment of his guilt. There are some other summons' that are mildly entertaining but are so due to Bartimaeus dialogue with them. In the story Stroud seems to be setting up a storyline for his next novel of a “commoner” uprising against the Magicians sporadically in the novel and these instances in the novel don’t add anything to the reading experience of The Amulet of Samarkand, but seem exclusively added just to foreshadow future events for the next installment of the trilogy. The depiction of the already limited magic is frankly forgettable. In one scene, out of nowhere, a magician shoots a “plasma bolt”, which at the time of reading was rather shocking after being told the power of a magician is largely based on summons, and was told earlier the summons is what separates Magicians from common tricksters and charlatans. I was wondering why others had not used it earlier, in other situations where such an offensive tool would have proven quite handy. Another scene, in which we are witnessing a huge portal with a tremendously powerful creature (one that had even Bartimaeus, unusually rather in awe) coming through, and it was written with such lack of flare and imagination, I simply wanted it to hurry up and come through so I wouldn’t have suffer through reading what was apparently supposed to be am ominous and dramatic entrance. When finally appearing, the creature (which Bartimaeus estimated took several powerful magicians to summon) was hardly worth it.

Although not terrible, I think there are much better choices on the shelves for young readers, some of which I mentioned above. I liked the character of Bartimaeus, but not enough to buy the second installment of the series, which would shock you if you took a look at the plethora of wonderful Five-Star reviews on Amazon. My final grade for The Amulet of Samarkand is a 3.

Jay
The Bodhisattva

City of Towers is not only the first installment in 'The Dreaming Dark' series, it is also the fist book depicting a new campaign setting from Wizards of the Coast (think Forgotten Realms) entitled Eberron, written by newcomer Keith Baker who is also the apparently the creator of the setting and was chosen by WotC from a number of submissions. Apparently, at least two more novels are planned for 'Dreaming Dark', as listed within the novel, book II 'The Shattered Land' will is scheduled to be released in December of his year, the third novel 'The Gates of Night' a year after that in December of 2006.

I picked up City of Towers when I heard it was the first book in a new line, and had thumbed through it at a store and noticed several pages toward the end of the novel were dedicated to seemingly detailed information about the world (Eberron) its royal houses, political powers, religious bodies, environment details, and semi-biographical information of some of the characters. So because of my curiosity of the beginning new line and because of my affinity for detailed information I purchased City of Towers. Baker introduces us to a time in Eberron depicting the direct aftermath of a long terrible civil war, a war that ended with the catastrophic destruction of the entire Kingdom of Cyre. Of origins unknown, a gray mist spread across the nation and everything within the borders were either destroyed or transformed. This event is universally called the Mourning and turned the once seat of power (Cyre) into a wasteland, now the dwelling place of unimaginable horrors. Those aligned with Cyre who survived the war, and the Mourning, through either chance, luck, absence, or in some cases apparently fate, are called mourners. City of Towers chronicles one group of mourners, survivors of a military regiment, who head for the city of Sharn, the City of Towers, the largest city on the continent, and considered a modern wonder of innovation, not only architecturally but also a testament of what can be accomplished with the combination of skill and magic, and is also the setting for the overwhelming majority of the novel.

The inhabitants of Sharn, are numerous and varied. Humans, Elves, Dwarfs, Gnomes, Troll, Bugabears, Gnolls, Medussa, Goblins, Changelings, Halflings, and tons more, plus combinations (like I said WotC) call one of the many districts of Sharn their home. The diversity of the city is being added to by the mourning refugees, among them are the aforementioned group who are the focus of the story, and who are no less diverse themselves, both as individuals, as are their purpose for traveling to Sharn. This group consists of Pierce a Warforged soldier, which is a artificially created humanoid construct made of steel, wood, leather and stone which are given sentience though magic. House Cannith created the Warforged to be tireless and expendable soldiers during the war. Lei ‘d Cannith a human Dragonmark who was attached to the regiment to control the Warforged and was returning to Sharn to meet her bethroed Hadran d’ Cannith a wealthy and influential Dragonmark who resided in Sharn. Jode, a halfling, also a Dragonmark, blessed with an easy nature and a gift for gab, and finally Daine, who was the captain of the regiment, and although Baker tells the story of the groups adventures it is Daine who seemingly is the main character. He is the sword bearing male/human character, such examples I like to categorize as the Cloud-syndrome of the group (Final Fantasy fans begin to understand).

I mentioned that Jode and Lei are Dragonmarks, and this ties into the magic system employed by Baker, and a very important facet of City of Towers. The term Dragonmark is used with two related meanings on Eberron. The way I used it to describe Jode and Lei, is according to Baker, a slang term for one who bears a unique tattoo-like mark (the second definition) on their body which give the bearer a unique power according to what sign they bear. There are twelve different Dragonmarks known to exist, each exclusive to a particular bloodline. These lines, makes up very powerful, influential and wealthy families, who are masters of the specific abilities their inherent mark gives them. For instance Lei is of House d’ Cannath, and members of that bloodline can bear the Mark of Making, and gives them abilities in just that, for example the creation of the Warforged. Jode is of House Jorasco, (although he claims no House) whom bears the Mark of Healing and is gifted with abilities of healing. It most be noted that not all family members of these lines will bear a Mark, and that the size of the Mark is directly correlated with the innate power of the user. There are cases of individuals who bear marks outside of the Twelve that are called Aberrant Dragonmarks that are birthed from the union of two different houses. These marks are “warped” and are considered dark powers that have side effects both in mind and spirit to the bearer.

The “plot” events in City of Towers begin when the group arrives in Sharn after an arduous journey, and find that Lei has been deemed Excoriate, which can be described as being excommunicated from the family, having your name and titles forfeited and barred from all property owned by the family, and comes with the stigma of having all members of the family strongly urged to disassociate themselves with you completely. The other members of the group having literally no where else to go, commit themselves in aiding Lei, to find out what circumstance has occurred that caused her in essence to lose her very life. This leads into a sequence of events that allows Baker to introduce the major players and denizens of the city, like Flamewind, a Sphinx with oracle like abilities, Alina Lorridan Lyrris, a beautiful gnome wizard, and apparently something of a underworld lord whose couple of segments were to me the most entertaining in the novel, and are the examples of some of the scarce instances of worthwhile dialogue within the entire novel, where we the reader was actually given some part of storytelling, instead of taking what seemed like a guided tour of a new setting. We are also introduced to Lailin Callis, an augur, and friend of Lei’s whom Baker uses to give us a glimpse of one both the opulence of the high society life and a flying ship. There are many, many more. Mr. Baker introduces a tremendous amount of characters in City of Towers, while depicting the story of Lei trying to find her answers simultaneously as they work for Alina trying to locate a employee of hers that has been missing who was carrying a valuable commodity of hers.

I mentioned above my feeling of being on a guided tour as I read City of Towers. I could not throughout my reading of the novel knock the feeling that clearly this novels priority was to act as a tool to give more life to a campaign/gaming setting and this may very well have been the intent of Mr. Baker, and as such performs brilliantly, but in terms of offering a viable novel that can be enjoyed by a fan of fantasy, not just gaming, City of Towers falls short in my opinion. The sequence of events felt contrived to maximize how many elements in terms of factions/creatures/races Baker could introduce us into the 325 pages of novel, as to solely give some light to as may characters as he could and giving displaying their interaction in novel (the last 50 pages or so are dedicated to the appendix). The group literally episodicaly fell into one altercation after another; if they weren’t fighting within the city they were being led to another one. The instances Mr. Baker does give in regards to depictions of inner thoughts of the characters are perhaps the weakest aspect of the novel. I simply didn’t care what happened to any of the protagonists in the novel. Pierce, the Warforged, created solely for war, attempting to come to grips with his place in society now that that the war is over failed to grab me. Lei’s feelings of banishment from her House is not touched on in the depth it could be, beyond crying, and one instance of striking a family member. Daine, the swordsman with a “mysterious” past, both regarding family, and having worked for Alina in the past, failed to be written with and element that would make one care for this often used archetype, or end (it was resolved at the end) in any inspiring or imaginative way. After reading City of Towers, I can assure you that even fans will be sick of one thing, and that is the mentioning of adamantium edged knives in particular how easily they cut through steel, wood, whatever... is it really necessary to tell the reader this every time the knife is used?

I also am less than enthusiastic with the actual writing of the novel from a stylistic sense. The prose is simply not captivating at any point. For instance upon approaching Sharn, described as a “wonder of the modern age”, one would think a couple of pages would be dedicated on the observations and impressions of our protagonists, some vivid descriptive writing depicting a city. One would think such a city would be like a vision of grandeur to travel weary refugees, who had witnessed firsthand the Mourning, and before that combatants in a long, bloody civil war. But no, a total of one paragraph is dedicated to this moment and is turned into a a question of scientific query by Daine on the nature of the floating towers. There are also a couple (literally) of instances that don’t follow the group (or members of the group) all only a couple of pages long (the novel is extremely linear), and they depict some actions of the antagonists of the novel, and these segments are for the most part incoherent. This s explained why later in the novel, but from a reading experience perspective it seemed at the very least mishandled.

As I mentioned before I liked the character of Alina Lorridan Lyrris who at times felt like the only character with believable motivation. I also enjoyed the character of Rhazala, a female goblin, of indiscernible age, and ability although with youthful exuberance, and offers a nice change in tone not present in sequences shes absent from. The Magic system, in particular the Dragonmarks are interesting, but so spread out in possible application it seems strictly invented to offer variety for gaming purposes, it’s a bit like (admittedly very loosely) like a concept I read about in Lawrence Watt-Evan’s Obsidian Chronicles, but altered for gaming purposes. One instance that I did enjoy, that actually gave some real depth to the city itself was when Jode ran into a world famous Circus in Sharn, and the same could be said about Baker’s inclusion of The Race of Eight Winds, a race that includes champions of different districts, heavily gambled upon, and a source of pride of the denizens of the city both of wealth and those less fortunate. I also enjoyed the fact that a main character dies, however I withhold final judgment on my thoughts related to this as I have a bad feeling the character will be used as some mystical guide from the grave to aid his friends at times with timely advice, if this is the case this will turn into vast disappointment, as to me this was the only member of the protagonists group that was even mildly interesting. His demise was disappointing but to make a mockery of it would be insufferable.

City of Towers was roughly what I expected it to be, but in saying that I want to comment on something regarding some opinions I have read concerning this novel that at the very least I feel are irresponsible. Although I admit I am not exactly casting a positive light on City of Towers I try to be fair, and my conclusions come from the reading. I have read some reviews in which some overstate the overuse of the technology present (in respects to the flying ships in particular) in Eberron. This is absolutely a ridiculous notion. The fact that I think the technology presence actually adds to the enjoyment of the novel is irrelevant, the fact is that the presence of technology is very minimal in the novel. On only two occasions are the boats brought up and added together they are talked about perhaps for one no more than two pages. Excluding the boats the only element of technology that plays any role in the novel are the use of lifts (elevators) that allow the population of Sharn to travel between the many levels of their city. The presence of such things as sky coaches (flying taxis) is mentioned, but explained in a magical sense unique to the locale of Sharn. They do not play major rolls in the novel at all, and cannot possibly be a reasons or at least a valid reason not to have enjoyed the novel. If anyone is using this as their principlw issue for not liking the novel they are either incredibly anal or most likly haven't read the novel.

When trying to draw comparisons to other WotC efforts, The last two WotC authors I read were Paul S. Kemp, whose work I think is completely on another level than this (highly recommened BTW), nor is it approaching the grand feeling of being introduced to the Underdark in the bonafide classic 'Dark Elf' trilogy by RA Salvatore. The characters simply didn’t grip me, the setting (the City) had potential but the experience wasn’t complete or satisfying. Perhaps the next installment of the series their will be time prolonged visit into Eberron instead of having to settle for the tour. My final grade for Keith Baker’s City of Towers, Book I of his 'The Dreaming Dark' series is a 3.5.

Jay
The Bodhisattva

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