Wicked Gentleman is really two novellas combined into a continuous narrative. It’s a mix of police procedural, Victorian gothic fantasy, with the slightest shiver of romance. The fascinating world the author creates is an integral part of the story. It’s a kind of alternate Victorian gaslight city, with an intriguing religious history. In the distant past, the demons of Hell have converted to Christianity. Their descendants, the Prodigals, live among the populace, kept under an oppressive watch by the all powerful Inquisition, a church-run police state. Prodigals have demonic powers, though they are discouraged from using them in ‘proper’ society. Most of them live in slum called Hells Below and keep to themselves, not unlike Jewish ghettos in medieval towns.

Belimai Sykes, the narrator of the first part, is a Prodigal who lives a part from his people. He suffers from deep guilt, and an even deeper addiction to a pain killing drug. He’s in the depth of his isolation when he gets a visit from Inquisition Caption William Harper and his brother in law, who request his services in locating a missing woman, Joan. Joan, Harper’s sister, is at the center of a web of Prodigal murders. Sykes uncovers a horrible, complex plot, worthy of an Agatha Christie novel. His first person narrative is charmingly arch and honest. The author catches both his defensive sarcasm and his deep self-loathing well. The story moves quickly and the world Hale creates is believable. Hale finds the right balance between lyricism and action.

Captain William Harper is the protagonist of the second portion of the novel, told in third person. He is ambivalent about his nepotistic position as an Inquisitor, mostly due to the fact that he has entered into a relationship with Belimai. Here, the plot concerns a conspiracy surrounding the Inquisition, and Harper’s disillusionment and eventual revenge against a corrupt system. The go into the plot further would be to reveal spoilers.

Hale is a natural storyteller, and knows how to plot. It’s hard to believe that this is a first effort. I found both sections of the novel unputdownable. Her characters are three dimensional and she has a lovely turn of phrase here and there. The first novella is the stronger of the two, but the second is the more emotionally compelling. Nothing lasts longer in the book than it needs to, a godsend in these days of bloated fantasy epics. The same sex relationship at the center of the book avoids the overly sentimental aspects of ‘slash’ fiction. Hale’s queer characters rival Sarah Monette’s—romanticized but not glorified depictions of queer sexuality. Moreover, the author never sacrifices storytelling acumen to make a political (or erotic) point.

Wicked Gentlemen is an outstanding debut, and will remind readers of the works of Storm Constantine and Sarah Monette. It deserves a wider audience.

If you read a history of a random country in sub-Saharan Africa it either begins at the first contract with Europeans or briefly mentions the state of the country right before the colonial powers show up. Africa often appears not to have a history before that. In Segu Guadeloupean author Maryse Condé shows us a pre-colonial Bambara state centred around the city of Segu (present day Mali) during the period from 1797 to about 1860. A history of the Bamabara empire from the height of it's power to it's eventual fall to the Toucouleur of El Hadj Umar Tall. It's a fascinating historical novel with an unusual subject.

This novel was originally published in French, which unfortunately I cannot read well enough to decipher the label on a milk carton, let alone a novel. I read a Dutch translation of the book. This translation follows the French spelling for the names of places and people strictly. I suspect the English version does not, Segu is spelled Ségou in my copy for instance. I don't have an English copy to check so I may get a couple of them wrong. It should still be recognizable.

The novel opens in the year 1797, on the day the first white explorer, the Scotsman Mungo Park is seen on the banks of the Joliba (Niger) river near Segu. This herald of change causes great excitement in the city, not in the least in the household of Dousika Traoré. Dousika is one of the most influential Bambara noblemen and rules of the huge household comprising of his own family, he has several wives and some twenty children, as well as those of his brothers and he many slaves that work the land he owns. Park's appearance marks change and for Dousika that change comes quite rapidly. That afternoon the first cracks in his position at the court of Segu's ruler, Monzon Diarra, begin to show. Soon he is completely out of grace. The fetish priests are summoned to explain this certain turn in Dousika's fortune and it appears his bad luck is not over yet. According to the family's priest four of Dousika's sons should be considered hostage of the gods, four lives influenced by their unpredictable will, their descendants scattered across the world.

The first is Tiékoro, Dousika's eldest son. The call of the Islam, a religion that is slowly penetrating the Sahel has reached his ears and turns him into a deeply religious man. Unfortunately he is also horny as a toad, and his new religion clashes not only with his traditional family beliefs but also with his own views on sexuality. Sira, the younger half-brother of Tiékoro is sent along with him as Tiékoro leaves for Tombouctou to study the Islam. Sira was born to a slave girl who later committed suicide by jumping into a well. His mother's sin as well his slave heritage make him feel inferior to his brother Tiékoro. A feeling that is only confirmed when Tiékoro's new teacher welcomes his brother but sends Sira on his way.

The third son the gods have claimed is Naba. As a boy he looks up to his brother Tiékoro and when he leaves for Tombouctou, Naba transfers his affection to his half-brother Tiéfolo. Tiéfolo is one of the great hunters of Segu and Naba joins him on many hunting trips. Tiéfolo gets overconfident though, he takes a number of young hunters out on a lion hunt, disobeying their elders and priests. The hunt turns into a disaster when Naba is taken by slave hunters. Naba ends up in Gorée and is later shipped off to Brazil.

Malobali is the fourth hostage. He is a beautiful boy and the most spoiled of Dousika's sons. Until the return of Tiékoro that is. This new holy man in the family restores a lot of the prestige the family had lost after Dousika's fall and he takes all the attention of Malobali's admirers. What's worse, he intends to send Malobali off to a school in Djenné to study the Islam. Malobali does not intend to obey Tiékoro and makes a run for it. He ends up a soldier in the army of the Ashanti empire and is the first of the family to encounter the British.

Segu is not an easy book to read. The author introduces a lot of characters and uses a great number of point of views. You have to keep in mind that the city is the true main character and that Condé uses her characters to show us the various influences on the city. This clearly goes at the expense of the depth of some characters. There isn't a single on that offers the reader an anchor though out the book. Condé also assumes a certain level of knowledge of the history of Africa, colonialism and slavery. There is an appendix in the back of the book (in my copy at least) to help the reader along and she frequently comments on the history of various places in the book but it reads a bit smoother if you have the general background. The history of Mali is not part of the history curriculum in any school I ever attended so you have quite enough on your plate as it is.

Another point that will turn some readers of is that is ends quite abruptly. Keeping in mind that the history of Segu is the star of the show, this makes sense. The Bambara empire is subjugated by the Islamic expansion of Umar Tall, their independence is at an end in 1861. End of a chapter in history. It does however leave the reader with a number of loose story lines with various characters. Condé picks the story of these characters up in the sequel Children of Segu, which covers the period from 1860 to the French colonize the region around 1890. I get to feeling that these weren't meant to be two books to begin with. Reading these two books in one go makes more sense.

What really appealed to me in this novel is than Condé succeeds in showing us the events that influence Segu though African, or maybe I should say Bambara, eyes. Through many incidents throughout the book the proud Traoré show their love for the city and the complete lack of understanding for the restrictions imposed by foreign religions such as the Islam and various Christian beliefs. Why the white peoples have suddenly abolished the slave trade or why the colour of their skin makes them superior in their own eyes is beyond them. Segu is changing but change is slow and sometimes only skin deep.

Condé creates a story on an epic scale in this novel. Many of the developments she so accurately describes are felt in other parts of Africa as well. The story is not new but her choice of setting and characters as well as her profound knowledge of the history of the region as well as that of slavery make this book unique. The history of 19th century Africa is not a happy one. It is not a page in history the colonial powers can be proud of. If you are willing the set aside cultural preconceptions Condé will shed new light on it though. The African view on those events is often underexposed. Condé manages to let it shine in this novel and that is the real strength of this book.

Wolverine is perhaps Marvel's most compelling X-men character. While his backstory and volatile makes him interesting, it can also make him easily cliched and largely unlikeable. Given to competent writers, Wolverine is rich fodder that can make for some incredible story-telling. Dave Stern has certainly used the character well in "The Nature of the Beast."

This particular novel takes place between Wolverine #76 and #77. Magento has taken all the adamantium from Wolverine's body, forcing him to learn who he has become, as well as relearn everything he used to know about his body. He retreats to a desert preserve where he encounters a scientifically modified tiger that sets off a whole chain of events. Suddenly, he's Logan again, and he's investigating an internatinal web of secret labs performing experiments with one goal, to rid the world of any further mutations. On his quest, he begins to understand that he has physical limitations again and that he is, in fact, vulnerable. Pieces of his past after the adamantium was bonded to his skeleton resurface, and the reader gets a few more parts of that elusive and mysterious backstory.

"Wolverine: Nature of the Beast" is fast-paced and certainly more given to simplified explanations of any technology and the plots to use it. This is mostly a result of the story being told in first person from Logan's perspective. He's not the kind of guy who worries too much about the details, which is often what gets him into trouble. He's not stupid by any means, but he is impulsive and prefers to act, rather than make detailed plans. The author provides a good balance between positive and negative outcomes for Logan's general mode of operation. Sometimes, his focus on the immediate really pays off, other times, he ends up making things much worse.

This book was largely a fun and entertaining novel, certainly it had the feel of reading a comic book because it moved quickly and the focus really was in telling a good action story. Fans of Wolverine should be very pleased with Dave Stern's take on the character. Newer readers who are curious (especially if they're unsure or unwilling to get to involved collecting the comic books, or who only know who Wolverine is because they've seen the X-men movies) should find this book to be a fairly serviceable introduction to the character. At the very least, my interest about the rest of the Wolverine novels that Dave Stern writes has been piqued.

Kushiel's Dart is Jacqueline Carey’s highly successful debut and the first instalment of a trilogy that chronicles the exploits of Phèdre nó Delaunay - exquisite courtesan, talented spy and god-touched masochist. The book received the 2002 Locus Award for Best First Novel, and it established Carey as one of the new and innovative talents within the fantasy genre.

Kushiel's Dart is first and foremost the story of Phèdre, who enters the world graced with an ill-luck name and a flaw in her beauty; a mote of scarlet in one of her dark eyes. She is sold into indentured service at a very young age, and when the enigmatic nobleman Anafiel Delaunay buys her service, he also names what the scarlet fleck in Phèdre’s gaze denotes: Kushiel’s Dart. Phédre is not merely an unlucky child of flawed beauty; she is an anguisette, chosen by the gods to experience pain and pleasure as one.

Reared in the Court of the Night-Blooming Flowers, an exclusive district of sacred prostitution, Phèdre enters the household of Delaunay at the age of ten, where she together with her foster-brother Alcuin is instructed in the arts of love and the skills of languages as well as the arts of covertcy. She and Alcuin are meant to serve as both courtesans and spies at the behest of their master, who is deeply embroiled in the political intrigues that surrounds the throne of Terre d’Ange.

Employed as a courtesan in order to spy on her high and mighty patrons, Phrèdre stumbles on a plot that threatens not only the throne of Terre d’Ange, but also the land and the people itself. Along with her bodyguard Joscelin, a celibate warrior-priest, Phèdre is betrayed into slavery among the barbarian and war-like Skaldi. Here, she must use all her talents, both of the bedchamber and of the intellect, in order to escape and warn her beloved country of an impending invasion and expose treachery hidden at the heart of the d’Angeline court.

Carey spins an elegant and exciting tale where the unravelling of deeply laid conspiracies is well-balanced with action and character development. Kushiel's Dart is not only peopled with a truly wonderful heroine, but also with some great secondary characters: Joscelin, the one-man Cassiline fighting machine; Phèdre’s childhood friend, the irrepressible Tsingano Hyacinthe and last but not least Melisande Shahrizai, a beautiful and alluring noblewoman of Kushiel’s line, subtle and very dangerous.

Kushiel's Dart is a first person narrative, which is one of the strengths of the novel since it provides the heroine with a compelling and persuasive voice, where Carey seamlessly blends the hindsight of an older and more mature Phèdre with the depiction of her youth and emotional development. Through the course of the story, the reader intimately follows her emotional development from an impetuous young girl revelling in her sensuality to a young woman who has to make difficult choices and endure loss and sorrow with dignity and compassion. The effect of the first person POV is one of strong psychological characterization in relation to Phèdre, but less so with other characters since every observation is filtered through Phèdre’s voice, which the reader is invited to identify with exclusively.

In many respects it is not Phèdre but Joscelin who undergoes the greatest change throughout the narrative as he develops from a rather arrogant and prudish boy with a tendency for the dramatic to a man that can accept both love and laughter as well as take responsibility for his actions and choices. His devotion to Phèdre puts him through a lot of trials and tribulations, but I must admit that I found him most engaging when he is posing as a Mendacant, a travelling story-teller since where the reader glimpses a wholly different side to him apart from his awesome fighting abilities and his rather dramatic temperament.

It is also a very beautifully written book. Carey manages to give the language a slightly archaic “feel” without belabouring the point. Rather, she cleverly uses interjections and carefully spaced repetitions that endow Phèdre’s narrative voice with the rhythms and cadences of a masterful story-teller:

As seen in the excerpt above, Carey’s prose is also littered with an abundance of sensual similes and metaphor, which gives the story a lush and visual “feel”, making it a pleasure to read.

Kushiel's Dart is set in a world both familiar and strange. The European continent is the obvious reference point for Carey’s world-building as she mixes loans from many different cultures and historical epochs into a recognizable yet strange and fascinating world. Renaissance France, Celtic Britain and the Old Norse cultures of Scandinavia all serve as distinctive, individual threads that Carey weaves skilfully together into a tapestry of vivid beauty. As with all forms of alternate history/historical fantasy, the depth and resonance of Carey’s constructed world is to some degree dependant on the reader’s own horizon of knowledge. Her world-building doesn’t stop at the level of surface resemblance; she actually incorporates pieces of European history beneath the skin of the story for the discerning reader to discover. The use of place names is a good example since she often uses names loaned or constructed from actual history. Thus Alba is the ancient Celtic name for the British Isles, while Skaldia is named after a specific poetic tradition in Old Norse literature. For me, one of the pleasures of reading Carey’s Kushiel books is the pleasure of recognizing the historical roots of the different elements of Phèdre’s world.

One of the most original aspects of Kushiel's Dart is the fact that Carey constructs a revisionist Judo-Christian theology as an integral part of the world-building. Inspired by Biblical books of Apocrypha as well as Jewish legend and folklore, Carey crafts a very interesting myth of creation for Phèdre’s homeland, Terre d’Ange (“Land of Angels”), centred on a deity (Elua) that symbolizes the marriage between earth and heaven and a race of men begotten by angels:

Carey builds on Biblical apocrypha, particularly the stories of rebel angels who begets children on human women and who betrays divine secrets to the race of mankind. Her unique creation of Elua, child of the union of the chthonic with the celestial, allows her to explore the idea of love as the most powerful and important of divine attributes. The central tenet of D’Angeline religion is simple: Love as thou wilt. Consensuality is a scared tenet, wherefore rape is not just a crime in Terre d’Ange, but heresy! This idea also allows her to explore the different aspects of the sexual in an interesting manner. In Terre d’Ange, sexuality is an integral aspect of the divine, embodied in the goddess Naamah. Prostitution (the Service of Naamah) is an integral part of the religious system, and the act of love itself is seen as a form of prayer. As institutions of the sacred prostitution of Naaham’s Service, the Thirteen Houses of the Night Court highlights different aspects of sexual love; joy, passion, solace, etc. Since her heroine is consecrated as a Servant of Naamah, Carey has included a few graphic sex scenes in her novel, but they are quite tastefully done and always integral to the plot.

Through Phèdre, Carey explores different forms of love; the love between siblings and friends, the love for the mentor, tinged with romantic love, sexual and romantic love, etc. One form, however, predominates, namely the love of country – an aspect that is curiously enough often is overlooked in the reception of Carey’s work. The people of Terre d’Ange are bound to their home by both love and blood as they are the descendants of their own deities, Elua and his angelic companions. Carey highlights this love of country to a discreet and lyrical effect by way of a repeated catch-phrase: The bee is in the lavender /The honey fills the comb, a verse from “The Exile’s Lament”, a fictional piece of D’Angeline poetry.

Another original aspect of Kushiel's Dart is Carey’s decision to feature an openly masochistic heroine. Carey has pointed out that one of her aims with the novel was to highlight and subvert some of the sexist clichés inherent in not only the fantasy genre, but in popular culture at large.
By making Phèdre’s sexual nature play such a prominent part in the story, Carey is able to tap into both the subtext of eroticized violence as well as the time-worn trope of the-woman-as-victim, inverting these aspects in order to explore questions of strength and weakness, cruelty and compassion and the ways that power can play out between individuals. All of these aspects are in one way or another present in the complex relationship between Phèdre and the villain Melisande:

Theirs is a relationship of dominance and submission, of coercion and resistance as well as an almost compulsive attraction. As an anguisette, Phèdre is not only the victim of Kushiel’s harsh love; she is also his weapon, cast against the subtle machinations of Melisande Shahrizai, scion of Kushiel’s bloodline. Phèdre pitches her wit and will against her opponent, but at the same time her very nature makes her vulnerable to Melisande. In a way, they are perfectly matched, Phèdre’s masochism to Melisande’s sadism, but what I find so interesting about that relationship is the fact that Phèdre, despite her god-touched nature, is able to walk her own path and that she struggles to do so.

All in all, I find that Jacqueline Carey’s first novel is a wonderful and almost hypnotic reading experience. It is, as said, a beautifully written and well constructed story, and I haven’t found much to criticize. However, it does feel like Kushiel's Dart is two books pressed into one volume. The first part of the book can perhaps best be characterized as a coming-of-age tale where Phèdre’s education and political intrigue plays the dominant part, while the second part of the book is more like a classic quest-narrative developing into a travelogue as Phèdre and Joscelin struggles to escape slavery in Skaldia and later travels on to the isle of Alba. This is, however, a minor criticism of a most impressive debut. Phèdre and her world made a huge impact on me when I first read Kushiel's Dart and it continues to exert its influence on my imagination. Carey manages to explore some very interesting issues about love, in all its form, as an attribute of the divine, about suffering and compassion as well as will and desire in the power plays that people engages in. She offers up an exciting story with a compelling heroine that also has something to say about the human condition that transcends genre.

Published by Pretty Things Press, Lipstick on Her Collar is an anthology of lesbian romance tales edited by Sacchi Green and Rakelle Valencia. Twenty-three stories make up this refreshing book which includes every different type of lesbian love imaginable. From dykes to butches to femmes- there's something for everyone.

I thought it would be useful to include the first line of a few stories that readers will especially like:

"It started when I kidnapped her dog."
This is a delightful tale about a dog who brings two neighbors together. It's almost like he has a dual personality- eating bacon and eggs with one woman and running on the beach while waiting for the other to come home tired and pat him on the back. These ladies seem perfect for one another and have more in common than just location. Pet owners will definitely appreciate this one.

"You've been with Langston Brothers quite a while now."
This powerhouse short brings two lady executives together. Meredith is the shark patrolling the waters for a new 'friend' and a smart co-worker. One attractive Chinese lady fits the bill perfectly. There's no future for her at Langston Brothers. Making a career change has never been quite so much fun.

"I skimmed the newspaper as I waited for my girlfriend, Leah, to come home from work."
This was a cute story that addresses the mid-life yearning for us all. An enticing personal ad convinces Julie to step out on her relationship with Leah who works long hours and pays her little to no attention. The surprising twist at the end helps turn guilt to satisfaction.

"Let's talk about the eroticizing of the female breast."
Kaitlin refers to herself as a 'frisky little dyke'. Her attendance in Elizabeth Hollingsworth's women's studies classes is no mistake. She has a huge crush on the woman. Ineptness in class leads to a private reprimand and an offer that Kaitlin won't be able to resist.

"I perched on the chintz chair, chatting with my hostess as I waited for my girlfriend Vanessa- not a morning person by any stretch- to come down to breakfast."
This short story will have readers awwwing and sighing, a cry might even fit in there too. Kylie and Vanessa are in love, overseas visiting a friend, and it's Valentine's Day. There is little time to be together without offending their sweet hostess so the two find themselves stranded in separate bedrooms. V-Day has to be the exception. The two finally hook up, tour the country-side, and come to face the reality of their future together. A must read for the romantic at heart!

"My fetish for femmes started in Sister Mary's Scholastica's fourth grade Catechism class and my mother's 1974 kitchen with avocado green and harvest gold appliances."
A short story that takes you back in time to the 70's is a always good. Madame Cecile is a shop owner who takes in a young girl for part-time help. Put together a dressing room, lingerie and two women and you'll get lust. There's one thing her new apprentice must do before she leaves for college and Madame Cecile is just the mentor to help.

"My eyeballs were so hot with rage that I saw the two women through a red blur."
Tara owes someone money and they are not happy with her. Peacemaker Lorraine steps up to the plate and offers to be an indentured servant for one week- no holes barred. Cleaning, washing, and organizing are not the only good things that will occur due to this arrangement. She doesn't plan for the spankings but the effects more than make up for the unplanned activities.

All of the stories in this anthology are amazing. Readers may find a new idea, position, toy, or term while reading this one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s a big night on the Prairie Rose Indian Reservation -- the grand opening of the multimillion-dollar Crazy Horse Casino.

And for ONE of them, it will be their last night on Earth.

One of the interesting things about Casino Boogie is how it changes things up from Indian Country. In Indian Country we are introduced to Bad Horse as our main protagonist and through 5 issues the plot follows him through a linear path in which we get to know some of the other main characters and a bit of the workings of The Rez. But if Indian Country is a story told linearly then Casino Boogie spreads out and is told laterally. This manifests itself in a few ways.

Issue #6 acts as a good transition between these two different story telling styles because it follows a similar pattern to the previous 5 issues allowing us to shadow Bad Horse before imparting on us the important textual lesson that he is not the only character. In this volume we will start to see the broader canvass of characters, their fractured personal histories and the intricately plotted connections that inform their depths.

Red Crow becomes further a Shakespearean figure carrying the weight on his shoulders, the weight of identity, the weight of history and the weight of power. He is compelling, interesting and dare I say that he is a tragic figure; I do have to wonder if his days are numbered. Gina Bad Horse decade’s later still carries the wounds of one moment in time, when two federal agents were killed, and still can't reconcile the embodiment of 'the end justifies the means' that everyone and everything around her has become. She will be a catalyst for explosive change. For Catcher, the alcoholic medicine man, it remains to be seen if he is strong enough to handle what he sees, and more importantly, what he will do. He is the wildcard. Interestingly it’s in Diesel, a white man who claims a 1/16th Kickapoo heritage and self identifies as an Indian, that we get an interesting study in identity politics. He is fervent in his belief of the purity of his heritage but revels in the stereotypical trappings of the race. He is a caricature but a dangerous and violent one. He is a steam roller plowing through everything so his role remains unclear. Dino Poor Bear, who we saw in the first volume, comes from a once powerful family, and is ambitious but a dreamer. His story will be an interesting one, to see if he becomes a pawn moved by greater forces or accumulates some power and changes the configuration of the board. His is a character to watch.

One other way that Casino Boogie spreads out laterally is that it approaches a near-Ulyssean portrait of one single day. Though each section will focus on just one character of this diverse cast the larger exploration of the nuances and facets of the day from every direction possible won't be lost. It’s an exercise in precise plotting to weave together this tapestry of characters and events and Aaron's skills are improving with each book.

This touches on something that is demonstrable here; that each issue functions as a complete story arc but progresses the larger narrative arc forward. This can be a hard balance to strike sometimes, especially in this age of graphic novels, but Aaron never forgets those readers who are purchasing each individual issue on a monthly basis.

Sometime the punch you dont see coming is the one that just hit you. That’s how I felt a couple of times while reading Casino Boogie. Aaron is such a skilled writer that he literally repeats and recycles not one but two reveals from the first volume. But the damdest thing is that you just don't see it coming. It's a deft trick that I would imagine is a tough one to pull off but yet again Aaron nails it.

Casino Boogie capitalizes on the strengths that were shown in Indian Country and improves at every level to tell a compelling and interesting story. It will take us from the top of the power structure all the way down to the kid who mops the floor of the casino and everyone in between. We will go from fifty-five years ago to the present. We will go to the spirit world and come back changed. What’s next? Dunno but I can’t wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When Rudd, a troubled Morman teenager, runs across a series of articles chronicling a vicious murder committed by the grandson of Brigham Young, he becomes swept up in the psychological and atavistic aftereffects of the religion's shrouded rituals of love and retribution. Together with Lael, his newly discovered half-brother, and Lyndi, the sole survivor of a slain family, Rudd is soon caught up in a web of secrecy and obsession that casts a veil upon the present as it plunges them all deeper into the violent past.


Sometimes you read a novel so original and forceful that it stuns you into silence when finished. You find that its hard to choose the right words to describe the experience because those words would fail. The Open Curtain is one of those books. I've read Evenson's short fiction over the years and as stunning as it is it does nothing to prepare you for this novel length assault.

There are the days: the dappled grounds, the aimless yard work, the hours in the booth giving directions to families in SUVs. And then there are the nights, crisscrossing the South with illicit goods, the shifty deals in dingy trailers, the vague orders from a boss they've never met. Sooner than Kyle and Swin can recognize how close to paradise they are, in this neglected state park in southern Arkansas, the lazy peace is shattered with a shot. Night blends into day. Dead bodies. Crooked superiors. Suspicious associates. It's on-the-job training, with no time for slow learning, bad judgment, or foul luck.


Over the last few years in crime fiction stories, regardless of medium, there has been a trend that has tended towards protagonists/antagonists that aren't at the top of the organization but instead are of the middle-management variety. The position of these characters has illustrated wonderfully the bureaucratic morass of large organizations, and the Willy Loman-esque delusions as they grind away the day taking shit from higher levels that often go unseen. Except where as Loman kept going until the bitter end, unable to escape his rut, the careers of these mid-level men will most likely end abruptly and in death. Arkansas is an interesting, and well written, addition to this trend, without being beholden to it.


One of the more interesting things that Arkansas does is set up an interesting dichotomy in the two leads, Kyle and Swin. One of them brings street smarts to the table and the other brings book smarts. The totally different skill sets that they represent, and how their paths even came to cross, make for an interesting partnership. At different times the application of these two skill sets (sometimes together sometimes apart) ends up being the nucleus in this relationship.


Johanna is a fascinating character that never even for one second casts an eye towards the too many cliches that female characters in crime fiction are often relegated to, in this case the criminal's old lady. She is idiosyncratic and a little maddening. Incorporating some parts of both Kyle and Swin's influence she sometimes makes decisions based on her head and at other times her gut. She is tough and vulnerable without either one being exaggerated.


Froggy's sections are interesting because they are presented in the second person perspective. His character is basically invisible to the other characters, a name only, boogey man that operates his network through underlings to maintain buffer zones and the distance of the second person "you" affords the reader the same level of distance as Swin and Kyle. In other novels we have seen the interspersing of third and first person perspectives as a means to drive up the tension but the effect here is different since he could literally be anyone. The reveal of who he is is handled well and it snaps his sections into clearer focus.

An ancient race of lycanthropes has survived to the present day, and its numbers are growing as the initiated convince L.A.'s down-and-out to join their pack. Paying no heed to moons, full or otherwise , they change from human to canine at will -- and they're bent on domination at any cost.


Caught in the middle are Anthony, a kindhearted, besotted dogcatcher, and the girl he loves, a female werewolf who has abandoned her pack. Anthony has no idea that she's more than she seems, and she wants to keep it that way. But her efforts to protect her secret lead to murderous results.


Sharp Teeth is a novel about werewolves in L.A. told completely in free verse. That condensed summary might scare some off and will excite others. You can randomly turn to any page and immediately see that it's not like most books published in todays market. A fundamental question becomes 'is this a gimmick or a legitimate device that serves the story well'?


Sharp Teeth never for a moment becomes gimmicky, and like the best examples of verse epics, it has a frequency that is easy to tune into. It's got such an easy rhythm to it that you never get pulled out of the story with thoughts of form or layout. So any potential readers who thinks that they might be put off by a free verse novel shouldn't have any worries.


One thing that the free verse form does allow for in its telling of a hardboiled story is an ultra streamlined pace that results in a lean and mean narrative in the best sense. Digging below the surface however what we find