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space_and_sorcery's Reviews (66)
dark
emotional
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
I was eager to reach this installment in Michael Connelly’s series because the story told in City of Bones constitutes the narrative core for the first season of the TV series, which made me finally aware of this author’s works and introduced me to a very intriguing character. Unlike what happened with previous books, here both narrative paths (book and TV) follow the same progression, so there were no surprises for me story wise, and yet the novel was able to capture my attention from start to finish as if it were completely new - a further demonstration of Connelly’s narrative skills, not that I really needed it at this point…
It’s the first day of the new year, and - unsurprisingly - Harry Bosch is on duty when he’s called to the site of a grim discovery: the bones of a murdered child that have been lying in the ground for a long time, probably a couple of decades. Even worse than the murder of a child is the revelation that the poor kid had been the victim of prolonged abuse, as testified by the multiple healed fractures evident in the bones: nothing like this kind of innocent victim can drive Harry Bosch on an unstoppable quest to find the perpetrator, not even the awareness that the long time elapsed might turn into a fruitless search, at times hindered by the LAPD politics which don’t look too kindly on such an expenditure of time and resources for what looks like a very cold case.
But Bosch is quite determined to get to the bottom of this because this time it’s not just a matter of being faithful to his motto “everybody counts, or nobody counts”, which drives him to seek justice for those who don’t have a voice anymore; this time the case feels close and personal, touching on the hardships of his own childhood, spent between uncaring foster families and indifferent institutions after the murder of his own mother. Even though it’s never expressed openly, Bosch feels a kinship with young Arthur Delacroix, the victim, and also the need to avenge his stolen innocence. As he muses at some point:
Child cases haunted you. They hollowed you out and scarred you. There was no bulletproof vest thick enough to stop you from being pierced. Child cases left you knowing the world was full of lost light.
City of Bones is much more than a compelling police procedural, even though it’s a fascinatingly detailed one, because it turns out to be the book in which Bosch’s psychological makeup is explored in greater depth than before, showing how under the abrasive surface of his personality there is a very human individual who built that exterior armor of bluntness as a defense against the injuries of the world. The detective’s flaws are showcased here more than in previous books, often portraying him as fallible, since his single focus on the goal tends to make him ignore peripheral details that are later revealed in their importance, but it’s thanks to these flaws that the human being can be seen, and appreciated.
There are a couple of instances in which we see Bosch lowering his “shields” in this novel: one is focused on his relationship with Julia, a trainee officer who exposes him to the double dangers of letting down his defenses (and later paying the price) and of going against the department’s regulations concerning romantic attachments inside the force. Julia seems just as determined as he is in making a difference, but does so without the years-long experience that the older detective has acquired over time, and this costs her dearly, leaving Bosch saddled with an undefinable sense of guilt that weighs heavily on him. The other instance concerns his exchanges with the forensic pathologist charged with the examination of young Arthur’s bones: there is a moment in which the doctor shows Bosch some bones recovered from the city’s tar pits, bones that reveal how murder was a component of society even in prehistoric times - the indication that human wickedness possesses deep roots indeed. Which brings Bosch to a bitter conclusion:
[...] a truth he had known for too long. That true evil could never be taken out of the world. At best he was wading into the dark waters of the abyss with two leaking buckets in his hands.
It’s a very sad consideration, and probably the start of the process leading to the unexpected decision Bosch makes at the end of the book: a decision that mirrors the one he takes at the end of the TV series, but for completely different reasons. It’s possible that this choice comes from a number of factors, not least the depressing links between law enforcement and its political ramifications, which here also dovetail with media relationships and community awareness, creating a mix that the detective finds unpalatable and more constricting than ever. This heavy equation is further burdened by the lack of complete closure in the case: yes, the murderer is finally apprehended but it looks almost like an afterthought, and this certainly does not bring any kind of comfort to the shattered and dysfunctional family of poor Arthur, or to Bosch himself. The prospect of an incoming promotion leaves him cold and distant, almost in acknowledgment of the emptiness of the task he has dedicated himself to for so long: in the very moment we are allowed to see more clearly into the soul of this character, we are also led to what looks like a massive shift in his perspective and his life:
He had always known that the would be lost without his job and his badge and his mission. In that moment he came to realize that he could be just as lost with it all [...] The very thing he thought he needed the most was the thing that drew the shroud of futility around him. He made a decision.
Even though I have an inkling about what that decision might be, I more than look forward to actually learning what it is, and to allow Michael Connelly to intrigue me once again with his stories centered on such a fascinating character. I know that I will not wait too long to get to the next book in line…
adventurous
dark
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
Reaching the end of a beloved series is always a bittersweet experience (and the fact that the TV show inspired by this book series has also reached its final season adds to the feeling of loss, but I digress…), yet it’s also true that when a story comes to an end leaving readers wanting for more it means that the author has done an excellent job, and this is quite true for the highly successful, decade-long run of The Expanse.
At the close of the previous installment, the might of the Laconian empire had suffered a hard blow, compounded by the disappearance of its leader, High Consul Duarte, and the crew of the Rocinante had finally reunited, taking with them Duarte’s daughter, Teresa. Elsewhere, scientist Elvi Okoye continued her studies on the protomolecule creators and on the mysterious entities that obliterated them and that still represented a clear and present danger for everyone.
Leviathan Falls opens with the desperate search for Duarte, introducing a new character in the person of Colonel Tanaka, a ruthless, cold-blooded operative who is given carte blanche to recover the Laconian leader and who clearly enjoys the unfettered freedom about collateral damage she’s given: her cat-and-mouse game with the Rocinante’s crew showcases very well her callousness but also her tunnel vision where Holden & Co. are concerned, because their longtime experience with difficult situations (together with a good amount of luck) has gifted them with the kind of flexibility that allows them to thwart Tanaka’s plans time and again. And I for one have to admit that witnessing the Colonel’s angry frustration was quite satisfying, since she’s the kind of character that I just love to hate…
The stakes, in this final book, are of course high: though diminished, the Laconian empire is still a force to be reckoned with; the rebellious systems, coordinated by Naomi Nagata, lack the resources and the organization necessary to deal a significant blow to the enemy; and the ruthlessly dangerous aliens responsible for the destruction of the gates’ builders are ready to do the same to humanity as a whole. And yet, even though the story does not lack for edge-of-your-seat scenes, furious battles and harrowing journeys through weird alien constructs, the overall mood is more sober, more inclined to melancholy - it might have been the projection of my own sadness at the end of the saga, granted, but with hindsight this book is, after all, a long goodbye to a number of characters I have come to know well and love as real people, just as they, in the course of the series, went from total strangers thrown together by circumstances to a tightly knit family.
Even in the midst of a galaxy-wide conflict, it’s the crew of the Rocinante that still earns the spotlight in this final act, and despite all that has happened to them over the years, despite the unavoidable injuries of passing time or life’s emotional wounds, they hold on to each other through learned trust and affection, in a sort of symbiosis which needs no words to make them work as a unit.
Time and use had changed them, but it hadn’t changed what they were. There was joy in that. A promise.
Thinking about the persons they were at the beginning, and seeing how time and experiences changed their outlook, made me aware of the long road they traveled as characters: Naomi kept trying to be as inconspicuous and unassuming as possible, guilt from her past compelling her to keep to the shadows, and yet she ended up being the leader of the resistance against Laconia, putting her mechanical skills at the service of the vast “machine” of the underground; Alex had always skirted his commitments as a husband and a father, preferring the freedom and joy of piloting a ship, but in the end the choice he makes is focused on his son and grandson. And Holden, who had chosen a nondescript work on an ice hauler to be free from responsibilities, little by little found himself at the center of big and momentous events, so that his ultimate decision is a supremely selfless one, which looks even more poignant when considering that his return from imprisonment on Laconia had left him “scarred and broken” in the wake of the physical and emotional torture he had endured, and that he would have deserved some peace after so much suffering.
The only one who remains a constant is Amos: not even the uncanny changes he underwent in the course of the previous book managed to shift him from the steadfast presence I’ve come to appreciate and expect, someone who can come up with startlingly wise advice:
“You’re overthinking this, Cap’n. You got now and you got the second your lights go out. Meantime is the only time there is.”
Amos’ personality is a weird combination of menacing strength, expressed in nonchalant understatement, and of unexpected gentleness, which we see - time and again - in his penchant for picking up strays: from distraught botanist Prax, looking for his missing daughter, to Clarissa “Peaches” Mao, former enemy he added to the Roci’s crew, to Teresa Duarte (plus her dog), who seems to come as close as an adopted daughter for the apparently unemotional mechanic. Maybe it’s not so strange when considering Amos’ past and his (albeit unexpressed) desire to protect the helpless, which makes a great deal of sense when we see Amos as the one to get the very last word in this final book, in his role as protector and guardian.
If the final chapter in The Expanse is not as “epic” as might have been expected, it’s however quite rewarding thanks to the quiet but poignant emotions that stand as its backbone: I’m not ashamed to admit that some of these goodbyes affected me deeply because, despite the 9-books run, I was not ready to part company with this crew, and the only comfort to be had was the hopeful outlook on humanity given by the last paragraphs. Granted, in this series humanity did show some of its worst traits, but also the capacity to move beyond them, or at least of being willing to try: the hint that the story does go on behind the closing curtain is indeed a glimmer of hope, and I will stick to that while I wait for these two amazing authors to create something new and equally compelling in the future.
adventurous
emotional
mysterious
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
When a book (or a movie, for that matter) is announced as “like xxx” I’m always wary, because rarely the comparison stands up to scrutiny and - from my point of view - it also shows a lack of imagination from the people writing the blurb. Activation Degradation is a case in point, its main character presented as similar to Martha Wells’ Murderbot: in truth, the only point of contact between the two comes from the fact that both Murderbot and Marina Lostetter’s Unit 4 are cyborgs, while the story, the overall mood and the characterization are totally different from the Diaries.
As the novel starts, Unit 4 is hurriedly called on-line to face an attack against the mine orbiting Jupiter where it and its brethren service the installation, dedicated to producing clean energy for Earth: the unit’s remote handler informs it that alien marauders are inflicting damage to the station and that Four must help, even though its activation protocols are incomplete - given the situation, time is of the essence. In the first, frantic moments since its awakening Four finds itself alternately frightened and riddled with doubt, the latter due to the incomplete download of files necessary to its correct functioning and to the often baffling orders received from the handler: as the situation becomes increasingly critical and Four rushes to fulfill its mission - which includes a cat-and-mouse prolonged space chase against the intruders - we learn something about the installation and the bio-mechanical constructs working there, and what we learn raises a lot of questions about the station and its managers. And even concerning the nature of the Units…
Yes, because despite the terms Four uses to describe itself or its environment, there is a definite organic quality to the background and the Units themselves: while it talks about “CPU unit”, “grasping pads” or “fuel intake” it becomes increasingly difficult to envision Four and its mates as mere robots (there is a scene in which it must “terminate” a fatally compromised unit that goes a long way in that direction), and when it boards a space-worthy pod to chase the invaders, the details of the pod’s insides come across as fleshy and biological rather than mechanic. Moreover, we learn that these Units are vat-grown and recycled from the material of previous constructs once they have reached their termination period of 90 days - the radiation of the environment and the harsh conditions don’t allow for more.
The real defining point in the story, and in Unit 4’s journey of discovery, comes from its capture by the group of “aliens”, who turn out to be strikingly similar to human beings as depicted in the files stored in its memory. The information these people provide conflicts at first with everything Four knows about these “invaders”, and is therefore viewed with suspicion and scorn, but as time goes on it becomes easier and easier to question what used to be unequivocal truth, and what its role in all this could and should be.
The most compelling feature in Activation Degradation is indeed the long road Unit Four - later on called Aimsley - has to travel as it peels away the layers of untruths that have been keeping it and its brethren in the dark about their true nature and the real situation on planet Earth. And if it’s not difficult for the readers to figure out many of the answers, following Four/Aimsley through this journey is what keeps them turning the pages, in the eagerness to see how all these revelations will affect the character: what this novel offers in that respect is a spellbinding and often poignant tale of awakening, of breaking the bonds of conditioning that have kept Aimsley and its fellow units in actual slavery to a perverted system.
The other intriguing aspect of the story comes from the understanding that the two factions at war are not so easily recognizable as “bad” and “good” guys, because both of them are responsible for the present situation in equal measure, although the novel poses some thought-provoking questions about paying off the debts of our forefathers - and for how long that “punishment” must go on - on one side, and on the other about an excess of protectiveness toward something that’s been left in one’s care, and how far that attitude can be taken.
This latter issue is not resolved at the end of the book, and although Activation Degradation looks like a standalone so far, there are some open-ended narrative threads that just beg for some further exploration: while the novel does reach a satisfactory ending, and does so through some quite unexpected twists and turns, there are more than enough elements to turn it into a very enjoyable series, one whose continuation I would certainly welcome.
adventurous
mysterious
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I’ve been meaning to read some more works from P. Djèlí Clark after greatly appreciating his Ring Shout, and I finally did thanks to fellow blogger Maryam at the Curious SFF Reader: when she reviewed Clark’s A Master of Djinn, which I found intriguing, she advised me to read the short stories that precede this full novel, and so I started with A Dead Djinn in Cairo, which can be read online on Tor.com
This is a completely different kind of story if compared with my previous experience with this author: set in an alternate Egypt of 1912, it portrays a city of Cairo in which the supernatural and the mundane coexist side by side, as a consequence of the opening of a portal between our world and one filled with otherworldly creatures. For that reason, the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments and Supernatural Entities must supervise any kind of manifestation through its investigators.
In Dead Djinn we follow Special Investigator Fatma el-Sha’arawi as she deals with the sudden death of a djinn (in Eastern lore they are supernatural beings which can be either benign or evil, according to circumstances): in this particular, and extraordinary, case, it looks as if the death can be attributed to suicide, and as Fatma follows the leads she finds herself facing mechanical angels, flesh-eating ghouls and other assorted dangers.
The story is short and somewhat light in characterization, but it’s a fascinating journey through the mysteries of Cairo and - more important - through the details of this weird world that might look like our own but is quite different, not just because it sports a plethora of supernatural beings, but because of its fascinating steampunk flavor, highlighted by the mention of flying trams, dirigibles and human-shaped mechanical constructs.
Fatma is an intriguing character, a person with a difficult job made even more arduous by her disregard for the period’s expectations of a woman’s role and appearance - her manner of dress is, well, quite unusual :-D - and in the short number of pages of this story she shows great promise that I hope will be fulfilled in the next short stories and full novel.
As it is, A Dead Djinn in Cairo is a intriguing introduction to this world, enough to compel me to learn more as soon as possible.
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
After reading Becoming Superman, the biography of J. Michael Strackzynski - talented writer in several mediums and the unparalleled creator of my favorite TV series ever, Babylon 5 - I knew that I would not want to miss his first (and hopefully not the last!) foray into novel writing: even though the core concept for Together We Will Go is an unsettling one, I knew beforehand that I could trust JMS’ skills in dealing with such a touchy subject with empathy and a lot of heart - and my faith was more than rewarded.
Failed writer Mark, who just received his latest rejection, reaches the conclusion that “the only good writer is a dead writer” and therefore plans to leave this world behind, but not alone: he buys a bus and places an online ad for equally inclined people to join him in a coast-to-coast journey at the end of which they will launch the bus down a cliff, ending their lives. While on the road they will provide for individual diaries of the experience, to be uploaded before the end: Mark’s way of gaining posthumous recognition as a writer.
If Mark’s reasons for ending his life sound somewhat thin and peevish, some of his companions are dealing with very serious issues: Karen suffered for most of her life from chronic, unbearable pain; Lisa is the victim of a bipolar disorder that turned her existence into an uncontrollable mess; Tyler has an untreatable heart condition that literally turns him blue from lack of oxygen; Shanelle has been cruelly bullied because of her size; Vaughn is a recent widower saddled with a terrible secret. And then there is Zeke, an addict beyond the point of no return, whose only companion is the cat Soldier, whose days are numbered; other people (for a total of twelve) board the bus, but the ones I mentioned are the main characters whose diaries help us to know them better and start to understand their reasons for letting go of everything.
The diary format of the novel, which includes not only journal entries but also emails and text messages, gifts the narrative with a strong sense of realism and allows the reader to see the characters from the double perspective of their own thoughts and of the other travelers’ opinions, which in some cases can change radically from the ones in their first meeting. Together We Will Go is indeed strongly character-driven, and each one of the bus’ passengers looks and sounds unique and three-dimensional, their entries ranging from the maudlin to the utterly funny, in the style I have by now come to expect from JMS’ unrivaled writing skills.
From the outside, this story might look like a romanticized incentive to suicide, but I want to say up front that it’s not: it’s rather an analysis, performed with great sensitivity and consideration, of the reasons that might drive a person to take their own life, and along the the way I was not only able to connect with the characters on a deep level, I also started to hope that they would change their minds, thanks to the discoveries they were making about themselves and to the bond they came to establish with their travel companions. It’s quite touching - and at times heart-wrenching - to understand how these characters have suffered a form of loneliness and isolation because of their troubles, be they physical or psychological, and to see how their common suffering, and common goal, is creating a sense of family despite the short time they have known each other. Or maybe it’s thanks to the awareness of their limited remaining time that they are able to connect so deeply, having shed most - if not all - of the trappings that life can impose on people.
As I wrote at the beginning, suicide is a risky subject to place at the core of a story, but I believe that JMS managed to maintain the balance between the position of the characters, in their determination to choose when to end their lives, and that of a reader who might be understandably dismayed at a choice perceived as an unwillingness to keep on fighting. The author is not new at handling this kind of quandary, and once again he’s able to present both points of view in a balanced, not-judgmental way: if you are familiar with Babylon 5, you might remember some episodes in which equally controversial themes have been the focus of the narrative (Believers and Passing Through Gethsemane are the best examples) and have been left for the viewers’ individual consideration.
Still, despite the underlying bleakness there is a definite thread of hope in the story, not only because of the way the journey turns out for some of the passengers, but because of a final consideration by one of them: it’s a long passage, but I firmly believe it’s worth quoting it in its entirety.
The reason so many people are vulnerable to suicide is because they think it could never happen to them, so they don’t know what to look for, what feelings could lead to making that decision [...] so anybody reading this will know exactly what it feels like to make that choice from the inside out. For some people maybe it’ll be be like a flu vaccine, giving them a little piece of the real thing so it immunizes them, so they’ll know what that impulse feels like when it comes, and maybe they won’t be as vulnerable because now they can recognize that feeling for what it is instead of being ambushed by it. And maybe they won’t make that jump, or at least they’ll know enough to wait and think about it some more.
Together We Will Go is a story that seamlessly alternates drama with humor, playfulness with deep emotion, and remains a compelling read from start to finish: given the touchy subject at its heart, I’m not sure it could be a book for everyone, but I can state with total assurance that it’s one that will make you think and leave its mark on you - in a very positive sense.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Suicide
adventurous
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
mysterious
fast-paced
I received this story collection from the author, in exchange for an honest review.
It’s always a welcome surprise when Ms. Burgis so kindly asks me to read and review her new works, because I know that I will always discover delightful stories where a thread of magic is woven with one of romance that even this grumpy old curmudgeon cannot find fault with ;-) (as a matter of fact, I quite enjoy these light-hearted forays into romantic territory…)
Magic is indeed a focal theme in this collection of stories set on a parallel version of 19th Century England, one where this element is commonplace, as in Ms. Burgis’ equally engaging Harwood Spellbook series, but with the difference that here magic is not an integral part of society: anyone caught with such abilities or marked as “unnatural” is either ostracized or wiped out, depending on the mood of the neighborhood.
Young Mia, the main character, is an inventor with a special knack for metal to which she can apply her peculiar kind of magic, but her skills have already exacted a heavy toll when her former fellow citizens discovered her true nature and turned against her and her father, burning their home to the ground and grievously wounding the man. Now that the two of them have found a new place to live, Mia is firmly set in keeping her abilities well hidden, but she did not take into account the persistence of her next-door neighbor, necromancer Leander, whose misshapen undead minions she keeps finding on her doorstep…
Given the shortness of the four stories that compose this collection (Good Neighbors, Deadly Courtesies, Fine Deceptions, Fierce Company) I don’t want to dwell any longer on the actual plot, which despite its light, humorous tone is also able to touch on some very serious themes like the fear of anything we perceive as different or the double standards of people in power. I can however concentrate on the character of Mia who, like many of Stephanie Burgis’ heroines, presents a captivatingly grouchy disposition on the outside that hides a generous, selfless soul ready to help those in need - be they human or otherwise. Previous events - and the consequences they visited on her father - made Mia quite wary of outside contact and a virtual recluse, which forces dashing Leander to launch a well-organized campaign to tear those barriers down and turn the two of them first into allies and then into… well, something else. And he has a lot of ground to cover because, in Mia’s own words:
I was not some fluff-headed flibbertigibbet who could be flustered by a bit of close darkness and a handsome, teasing necromancer.
While the first two stories, which are also the shorter ones in the collection, remain on the light side, the longer third and fourth deal with some quite dramatic issues concerning the frame of mind of the so-called “good citizens” of a nearby town (I always shudder whenever the word “purity” is used as it is in this instance) and Leander’s harrowing past. There is clearly a thematic progression here that moves from the introductory stories where the characters are presented, to the more complex, more layered study of the world they live in, a world in which “normal” people feel threatened by supernatural creatures for no other reason that they are different - and no matter how much fanciful humor is laced throughout the story, there are several thought-provoking issues here that belie the apparent lightness of the collection.
These four short stories were previously presented on Stephanie Burgis’ Patreon between 2020 and 2021 and are now collected in a single volume that will be available from February 2nd, 2022. My hope, after reading them, is that the author will write some more to expand both on this intriguing world and on Mia and Leander’s story. I will look forward to them.
adventurous
dark
emotional
mysterious
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I received this novel from Orbit Books, through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review: my thanks to both of them for this opportunity.
I’m quite familiar with Daniel Abraham’s fantasy production, having greatly enjoyed both The Long Price Quartet and The Dagger and the Coin series, and of course I know that under the shared pen name of James S.A. Corey he’s the co-author, together with Ty Franck, of the successful SF series The Expanse, so that when the start of this new fantasy saga was announced I was more than eager to see for myself what it was about.
The city of Kithamar has a long history of power and prosperity, but also of violence and strife: as the novel starts, the uneasy peace between the two ethnic groups living in the city is shaken by the death of the former ruler and the ascendance of his successor - many wonder, given the troubled times, how long he will be able to remain in his place. But Age of Ash is not so much the tale of people in power, but rather of the city’s inhabitants: first we meet Alys, a very proficient member in a band of thieves, one of the most lucrative occupations among Kithamar’s underprivileged. The murder of her brother sends her on a very different path, however: searching for answers first and then for vengeance, Alys finds herself enmeshed with convoluted political maneuvers and the dark, ancient secret behind Kithamar’s rule - a secret that might claim her life. Sammish is another member of the dsmr band, her skill in being inconspicuous a very valuable one for thieving, but a hindrance in her desire to be noticed by Alys on whom she has a crush: when Alys’ focus on vengeance becomes all-encompassing and takes her into the orbit of some shady characters, and once the mysterious Saffa - a woman searching desperately for her kidnapped child - opens Sammish’s eyes on the evil undercurrents of powers in Kithamar, the girl will have to deal with conflicting loyalties and a newfound awareness of the world she’s living in. The third main POV comes from Andomaka, a noblewoman with great aspirations to power and the member of a weird religious cult holding the secret behind the workings of the power handout between rulers: she is strong, ambitious and ruthless, the true representative of the caste that has been governing Kithamar throughout the centuries.
The slow burn of Age of Ash might have proved discouraging if I had not been prepared: previous experience with Daniel Abraham’s novels taught me that he likes to carefully prepare the playing field and that the beginnings of his series require a little patience, which is always rewarded in the end. In this particular case, the “preliminary” work serves to create the image of a living, breathing city in all its colorful detail: shopkeepers and artisans plying their trade in the winding streets and alleys of Kithamar, urchins running underfoot and thieves moving like smoke in crowded areas; the various districts, looking like enclaves where the two ethnicities coexist in a delicate balance, giving way to the mansions of the more affluent citizens and of the nobility - these elements are pictured in such a vivid manner that after a while they feel three-dimensional, to the point that it’s almost possible to hear the sounds and perceive the smells. We are led through the city in its better times, like the harvest, which brings abundance of food and a festive atmosphere, when street revelries offer the chance for celebration and great thieving opportunities in the crowded passages; and we see it in the bitter cold of winter, when food is scarce and ice covers the ground and hangs from the roofs in big icicles, when the poorest have to choose between eating or warming their homes, a time when darkness and gloom prey heavily on everyone’s mind.
While I enjoyed such richness in the world-building, I found myself somewhat distanced from the characters, particularly where Alys is concerned: the single-minded focus on her quest leaves little space for any kind of emotional connection or feeling of sympathy. Even her grief at the loss of her brother shows this kind of hard edge (for want of a better definition) that turns it into something cold and soulless, devoid of any spark of humanity. I ended up feeling greater empathy with Sammish, not least because she exhibits a greater capacity for emotional and psychological growth throughout the story and because what looks like childish infatuation morphs, in the end, into a willingness to help her friend and to do the right thing, not just for Alys but for the city as well. The unassuming girl who can move through crowds unnoticed shows more courage and heart, in the end, than the one who should be the main focus of the story, and this comparison did not help me at all in my reflections on Alys’ character: this is however only the first book in a series so I’m also suspending my judgment while waiting to see how the story progresses and what kind of surprises the author has in store for his readers.
And speaking of the plot itself, there are many unresolved threads here - particularly where Andomaka’s actions and her connection with the religious cult are concerned - that will certainly be further explored in the next books: there is a lot of intrigue, with longtime ramifications, that simply begs to be developed more fully. The complex, creepy layers of Kithamar’s power management and its handling through the generations are barely touched here and I can hardly wait to see how the continuation of the story will deal with them, and with Andomaka’s plans, about which I can’t afford to say more because that way lie some massive spoilers.
The start of this new series is indeed a very promising one, and I can’t shake the feeling that this first installment barely scratched the surface of a story that holds many more surprises in store for me. Time, of course, will tell what they are…
adventurous
mysterious
medium-paced
I received this novel from the author in exchange for an honest review.
As I remarked in previous reviews for this series, the main character’s name, Never, seems to be closely linked to his destiny, that of never finding peace - both in his search for answers about the past and the uncanny abilities bestowed by his heritage, and in his life: the previous book ended with the threat posed by a god-like creature, the Burnished King, laying waste to the land in his quest for domination, and Throne of Leaves starts by showing the readers how the Stone Plague is devastating both people and the territories it encroaches on.
In his afterword, author Ashley Capes remarks about the oddity of such a narrative choice: while the previous installment in the series was completed in 2019, before the very real Covid pandemic hit, he describes here the made-up plague at the center of this story and considers the strangeness of the parallel between worrisome reality and equally disquieting fiction. Sometimes reality and fantasy have a strange way of coexisting…
Back to Never’s adventures, there is something of a change in the way he’s perceived now: while before his weird powers and his appearance were met with awe and suspicion in equal measure, his recent actions have gained him the well-deserved qualification of “hero”, and if the awe is still present, he’s often welcomed and his help both sought after and appreciated. It’s interesting to observe how he’s not totally comfortable with that, but at the same time he’s more inclined to open himself to friendships and to accept the fact that he’s not bound to be a loner, that he can find people to share his path - and its dangers - with.
This is particularly true in Throne of Leaves because Never’s ally Rikeva - a sort of warrior priestess gifted with abilities of her own - seems to be more than just a passing companion and possesses all the qualities to become a permanent comrade, or even something more. While I’m always wary of emotional entanglements in the stories I read, I quite enjoyed the very slow burn of what might turn into a romantic liaison, and this might also prove to be a positive turn for a loner like Never. Moreover, Rikeva is a great character: strong, determined, courageous, but also compassionate and gifted with a delightful sense of humor which might very well compensate for Never’s deep seriousness.
Story-wise, Throne of Leaves continues in the series’ tradition of leading Never through a quest where he needs to unlock mysteries and face various dangers: once again I’m reminded of strategy computer games (even though I’m no gamer at all) where the players must complete increasingly difficult levels before reaching the goal. Here Never does so by also revisiting previous locations where other adventures took place and - more important - reconnecting with old acquaintances and friends he met along the way. This proved to be one of my favorite sections of the book because I enjoyed the appearance of some familiar faces, and also because it was nice to see Never appreciate the reunion:
[…] halfway through the meal he’d found himself wishing time would pass slower.
A moment of peace and joy that, together with the reminders of past adventures, made me think Never’s journey might be nearing a closing circle - but of course it was a totally wrong impression because the very last sentence of the book hints at an even greater danger looming over the horizon. Something that will certainly be explored in the continuation of this series…
adventurous
lighthearted
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
With such an intriguing title and the information that one of the story’s characters is a sentient bio-ship, it was inevitable that You Sexy Thing would end up on my TBR, and that I would have fun with it. It’s a quick read, and maybe a little on the light side as far as background and characterization are concerned, but since many elements in the story seem to indicate this novel might be a series starter, I will take this book as an introduction and keep hoping that some stronger developments will come along in the following installments.
Niko Larsen and her team now manage the Last chance restaurant on the remote Twice Far space station, but they once used to be soldiers enrolled by the Holy Hive Mind, a political/military conglomerate focused on expansion (think of a somewhat milder version of Star Trek’s Borg): to stay out of the HHM’s clutches, Niko and her people must demonstrate that their venture is an artistically successful one, and therefore the promised arrival of famous food critic Lolola drives them to excel in their culinary offerings, so that they might be granted a prized Nikkelin Orb to show their value as a renowned eating establishment. Even the best-laid plans are subject to unforeseen events, though, and a set of peculiar circumstances sees our heroes trapped aboard the sentient ship You Sexy Thing, bound for a prison planet with no possibility of changing course. What ensues is a series of madcap adventures including a detour toward a pirate enclave and the arrival of a stasis-bound princess whose care has been entrusted to Niko by an unknown sender.
The various narrative threads that form the novel’s structure might seem a little confusing, but fortunately they combine into an engaging plot that remains interesting from start to finish. If the characters are not explored in real depth, their interactions are quite fun and their mutual relationships offer many intriguing angles that, in turn, help to better focus on this variegated universe. Niko Larsen (and later on princess Atlanta) are the only humans in the group, since the rest of the crew is of alien origin: Dabry, once Niko’s XO and now the restaurant’s chef, is a four-armed humanoid; the twins Thorn and Talon can morph into lion’s form and are possessed of the same unquenchable energy as feline puppies; Gio is an evolved apelike creature who can communicate only through hand gestures; Milly is the pastry chef and looks like an avian; Skidoo (my absolute favorite!) is a squid-like being and - last but not least - Lassite is a reptilian mystic with the ability to perceive the future. What makes these alien creatures interesting is that they are quite believably alien in mindset and behavior, not only in appearance, and what’s more important is that they have created a family-like bond whose basis might have been born in the mind link that bound them during their military service, but is now the product of many shared experiences and the affection and care that those experiences consolidated among them.
Of course once the group is onboard the You Sexy Thing, another character comes to the fore - the ship itself: as a bio-ship, the Thing possess the ability to adapt and change its environment according to the passengers’ requirements, and it’s also able to interact with them, but we soon understand that the previous owners did not take many steps in expanding the Thing’s capabilities. Thanks to the time spent with Niko’s crew - starting with Dabry and his culinary performances - the Thing understands there is more to its existence than it was able to perceive before, and the ship initiates a process of growth and transformation that is a true joy to behold.
[...] they had interacted with [the Thing] as though it were another person, there in the room with them. All of its owners had treated it simply like a thing, and before the ship had always thought that was the norm. Now it knew there was a different way.
Where the book falters a little, however, is in the presentation of the antagonists: the pirate overlord comes across almost like a caricature, his focus on revenge and torture is presented in such a way as to create a dissonance with the story’s previous tone, while the insistence on the “evilness” of the character seems to deprive it of any realistic connotation. On this subject I have to admit that the choice of inserting a character’s death as part of the pirate’s “dastardly plot” introduced a jarring note in what had so far been an adventurous/humorous narrative mood: this death brings serious consequences for the group and adds a more dramatic layer to the story, but I’m still struggling to envision it as an organic part of the plot.
The novel’s world building needs some stronger foundations as well: apart from learning about the existence of the Holy Hive Mind, of a large Empire (to which princess Atlanta is one of the designated heirs), of the pirate conglomerate and of the space bound society of the Free Traders, we don’t know much about this universe and I for one would have loved to learn a few more details - that’s where my hope that there will be other books about Niko & Co. makes me look more favorably on this novel.
Still, to close on a positive note, I have to say that I liked very much all mentions of cooking and food: story-wise they are part of the bonding process of the group in their new life, and of the group with the Thing, but on a personal level I enjoyed them because I do love to cook and to experiment with new recipes - one of the reasons I felt a great connection with Dabry and his fascination with ingredients :-)
In the end, I had fun with You Sexy Thing and that’s what I was looking for when I picked it up, but still I would have liked to find more in this story: should the author decide to write more adventures featuring Niko Larsen, her crew and the adorable Thing, she will certainly find me there glad to follow them.
adventurous
dark
emotional
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I have learned to appreciate Jay Kristoff’s works with the SF series Illuminae Files, written together with Amie Kaufman, and later on with his dark fantasy series The Nevernight Chronicles, so you can imagine my excitement at the publication of this new book, where I was sure he would successfully combine his writing skills with one of my favorite themes in the genre - vampires. This first volume in what promises to be an amazing trilogy proved to be everything I was expecting and more, and also a fascinating read that kept me turning the pages despite the darkness permeating it - on this subject I have to acknowledge that reading The Nevernight Chronicles some time ago was a good preparation for what awaited me in Empire of the Vampire, where such darkness does not come only from the story itself, but is an integral part of its background.
The premise of the saga is that, some thirty years prior to the beginning of the story, sunlight was obliterated by daysdeath, a mysterious obscuring of the skies that turned the world into a permanently crepuscular landscape, allowing the vampires to safely come out of their hiding places and start feeding on humans, constantly encroaching on their lands and moving ever onward in what looked like an unstoppable tide. The only true defense against vampires is represented by Silversaints, a holy order of warrior priests whose peculiar abilities allow them to battle the bloodsuckers on an almost even ground: Gabriel de Léon, the novel’s main character, is one of these Silversaints - actually the last of them - and when we meet him he’s the prisoner of a vampire queen who wants to chronicle his story before reaping her vengeance on him for all her brethren lost to his sword.
What follows is a tale told through several different timelines: the present, where Gabriel relates his story to a vampire chronicler; the far past, showing the Silversaint’s childhood and the dramatic events that brought him to the brotherhood; Gabriel’s formative years, as he learns his skills and encounters the people who most matter in his life; and the more recent times, when he embarks on a dangerous quest that might bring the end of the vampires’ reign of bloody terror. The various timelines are not presented in a linear way, with jumps from one to another that might look erratic (and here I enjoyed the tongue-in-cheek shows of displeasure from the chronicler in his desire for a more orderly recounting) but instead create a sense of foreboding by hinting at some big tragedy that impacted Gabriel’s personality in a profound way.
De Léon is a brilliantly crafted character who breaks all the narrative “rules” required by the figure of the proverbial hero, since in his youth he’s both bold and reckless and tends to rush headlong into risky situations, more often than not making them worse; and in his maturity we can see him as cynical, world-weary and quite sarcastic of the mystique surrounding his person:
“You weep like a child over a dead horse, but shoot an innocent woman in the back and leave God-fearing men to be slaughtered by foulbloods. [...] What kind of hero are you?”
“Who the f* told you I was a hero?”
The story of his life is also the story of an individual who, through heartache and dreadful loss, comes to a sort of found family that gives him a firm purpose in life, and a faith in the power for good he can wield agains the encroaching tide of the vampires, but it’s also the story of how certain events bring him to disillusionment and the loss of that all-encompassing faith, turning him into the “fallen hero” we meet at the start of the novel. The older Gabriel possesses all the characteristics of a man we might despise: he drinks, he swears profusely, he does not care about the collateral damage his actions might bring about, he’s an addict - and here I digress by saying that sanctum, the substance he’s in constant need of, is something strictly linked to his nature and not a drug of choice (for want of a better definition), but I’m wary of saying more because it’s one of those details best discovered by reading the book. And yet, despite all these nasty traits, Gabriel comes across as a very relatable character, because we are able to see all the agony and grief he suffers in the course of his life and in the end we develop a bond with this man and come to care deeply for him - not least because we see how family is important to him, both the one he was born into and the one(s) he builds in the course of his life, creating ties of love and brotherhood that help him keep his humanity burning bright.
Gabriel is not alone here, however, and he’s surrounded by a number of equally well-defined characters that enrich the story and offer different points of view for the reader on this world and the way it has changed from a “normal” one since daysdeath abruptly fell on it. And of course there are the vampires: besides being the blood-craving creatures we can expect from the myth created around them, Kristoff’s vampires are particularly cruel, even sadistic, all their previous humanity burned away by their virtual immortality and the need for blood. Still, these creatures go even beyond such already ruthless limits, often showing a perverse pleasure in inflicting demeaning kinds of torture on their slaves, in an outward show of the inner hideousness that at times even translates into their appearance.
Empire of the Vampire is a grim, bloody book where hope rarely makes its appearance, where the heavily filtered sunlight struggles to battle the darkness and the coldness of the land, and yet it’s also a compelling story where courage and love, faith and determination can sometimes bring a light and make it all more tolerable. It’s also a fascinating tale that will keep you turning the pages and leave you wanting for more once you reach the end of this first volume. And no darkness will banish my hope that the next one might not be too far down the road…
Content Warnings
Graphic: Violence