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Nothing Special, Volume 2: Concerning Wings by Katie Cook
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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I just don’t know what to say about Vol. 2 that, by and large, I said about Vol. 1 of Nothing Special, but I wanted to say something. So, yeah, I appropriated a good deal of what I wrote before. If Cook is going to be so consistent that I can’t say something new, I have to.
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I just don’t know what to say about Vol. 2 that, by and large, I said about Vol. 1 of Nothing Special, but I wanted to say something. So, yeah, I appropriated a good deal of what I wrote before. If Cook is going to be so consistent that I can’t say something new, I have to.
What’s Concerning Wings About?
Callie is focused on helping her dad around his shop–she’s all-in on this life now that she understands more about where she came from and is allowed to leave the town.
Declan is getting more comfortable with his new identity, too. Until he injures his wing and it makes him very ill. Far more so than he’d imagine. So Callie starts looking for a cure–they’re pointed to fairy healer.
So they set off on a short trip to find one. Along the way they end up learning more about Fairies in general.
So they set off on a short trip to find one. Along the way they end up learning more about Fairies in general.
Lasser
I felt so bad that I couldn’t remember Lasser’s name when I posted about Vol. 1, so I made sure to get it this time.
This time his arc focuses on his obsession with Romance novels (they’d probably be classified as Romantasy in our world, but since he lives in Fairyland…they’re just Romance). They’re basically the prism he sees everything through. Until he gets the opportunity to talk to someone he finds attractive and…well. Let’s just say it works a lot better in books.
Declan and Cassie
If I’m talking about Lasser, I’d better mention these two. But what is there to day? They’re so cute. Individually and as a couple.
They’ve grown as a couple in between books–they know how to read each other, take care of each other–and have fun with each other. (even at the other’s expense, in a good-hearted way).
I should have something more to say about them, but I don’t. Based on the way this volume ends, I’ll have something more to work with after Vol. 3.
A Word The Art
I just loved it. It’s bright, energetic, lively, and adorable. That last one may sound patronizing, but I can’t come up with a better word for all of the art. It just brought a smile to my face.
The radish ghost (all the ghosts, but let’s focus on it) is one of the cutest things I’ve seen in months. The little accent bits of art throughout the book featuring similar looking ghosts and non-story jokes are just as good.
I don’t know what else to say, but I loved the art.
So, what did I think about Concerning Wings?
From the dedication (literally) to the end, and all points in between, I had a blast with this book.
I don’t have anything deep, meaningful, or particularly insightful to say here—nor do I have a lot to say (believe it or not).
I thought the story was fun. I less-than-threed the characters so much. The art made me smile—as did the book as a whole. The pages just melted away. It’s cute, it’s effortlessly charming, it’s sweet, and full of whimsy. ‘Nuff said.
Your results may vary, obviously, but this just made me happy. I’m in for the long-haul with this series.
A Drop of Corruption by Robert Jackson Bennett
adventurous
challenging
dark
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s A Drop of Corruption About?
Dinios Kol arrives (as is his custom) in the canton of Yarrowdale, ahead of his boss, Ana Dolabra. They’ve been assigned to investigate the disappearance of a Treasury officer. This officer—and the rest of the Treasury delegation—is in Yarrowdale to negotiate with the King the final steps of Yarrowdale fully joining the Empire once and for all.
Right now, Yarrowdale is (rightly or wrongly) considered a backwater territory, valuable for one thing only—it’s a place that the leviathans do not travel to, so their corpses can be moved there and harvested for the copious near-magical substances used by the Empire. (incidentally, I found this whole aspect just tremendously cool. I won’t say more than that, but if we only got a novella about this part, I’d have been satisfied). This is the only place where this is safely done, so it’s hard to understate the strategic importance of Yarrowdale.
So one of the Empire’s chief negotiators going missing is no small thing—so Dolabra is assigned to find him.
Not at all shockingly (to any reader), the corpse of the officer is quickly located once Kol arrives. Its condition raises eyebrows and concerns—and that’s just the beginning, the more they investigate the circumstances around this killing the less sense things make, and the greatness of the mind behind it is seen. Dolabra is excited by the challenge, while everyone around her becomes more and more apprehensive with each discovery or conclusion she makes.
I won’t go on much beyond this—I’d love to summarize the whole book for you, but why? More victims are found, more questions are raised, the stakes keep climbing higher, and the implications for the future of the Empire are great.
Dolabra and Kol
When I talked about The Tainted Cup, I didn’t really talk about the primary characters. I hesitate to start now because I’m going to have a hard time stopping. But let me try to dip my toe into it.
Ana Dolabra is a brilliant investigator for the Empire—being sent to the trickiest investigations and given almost unlimited authority to get the answers she seeks. Due to some physical (and psychological) limitations—and the fact that she has zero interpersonal skills (and that’s being generous)—she requires a deputy to handle most of the actual investigating, bringing her the evidence and testimony that she needs to solve the crimes.
Which is where Dinios Kol comes in. He’s been altered to have a perfect memory—sights, sounds, smells, conversation…you name it, he remembers it all (even if he doesn’t want to). So he’s the perfect assistant for someone who will not interact with people of her own volition. There are jobs he’d rather perform—and places he’d rather perform them. But his family needs money to pay medical debt, and this is the surest way for him to accomplish that. He escapes into drink, drugs (I think it’s more like tobacco than anything, but I’m prepared to be shown that I’m wrong), and sex as often as he can. But is reliable when the chips are down—he has to be.
Ana Dolabra is very much in the Nero Wolfe mold—purposefully so. But she breaks the mold in all the right ways—her reasons for relying on someone else to interact with the outside world are different and less self-imposed. Her ego is as large (I wasn’t sure that was possible), and she takes some of these crimes as a personal attack on her and her genius (like Wolfe occasionally does). But she relishes the challenge—and talks openly about enjoying this case compared to the boring murders and whatnot she’s solved recently. She has a strange relationship with eating so that sometimes she sounds like her antecedent and other times the complete opposite.
Most people will not care about this (and I assure you, that paragraph could be longer)—but I’m incapable of reading any section featuring Dolabra without pausing to contrast her to Wolfe. She never comes out bad in these comparisons—just different in a creative way.
Her Archie Goodwin, Dinios Kol, can be compared and contrasted in the same way. I started to say he’s less like Archie, and I really want to. But I can really think of one major difference—what drives them. Kol’s motivation for the work (at this point, anyway, it may be shifting toward the end) is different. So he behaves with a little less loyalty. This makes him more interesting and makes up for his lack of humor. Ah, look there—I found another notable difference. Kol is far too serious to really be an Archie, but I wouldn’t want to change a thing about him.
Building on the Worldbuilding
In The Tainted Cup, Bennett introduced us to a fascinating and complex world of kaiju-esque monsters, magic-feeling science, and a massive empire that’s keeping humanity alive. it was both awesome and strange. In A Drop of Corruption, it’s almost as if Bennet tells the reader, “So you’ve seen the typical in this world, but you ain’t ready for this.” As strange and terrible as we thought things were…ha.
We get to see new augmentations, we get to see how outsiders (or semi-outsiders) regard the Empire, we learn a whole lot of history about the Empire, the monsters, the science behind the augmentations, and so much more. I’m having trouble expressing it all.
In both books so far Bennett can bring the unbelievable and indescribable to life. Din will start a sentence by saying something like, “Words cannot express ___” or “It’s too incredible to explain” or something like that—and then will falteringly describe it in such a way that the reader comes away with a pretty good idea of what Din saw. Even when he’s not calling his shot like that, item after item, phenomenon after phenomenon, creature after creature that really shouldn’t make sense when written about comes through with a level of detail that leads the reader to think they’re imagining what Bennett imagined.
Sure….it’s likely that no two readers will have similar mental images. But that’s not important—you’ll think you do.
The Author’s Note
The Author’s Note (largely an Acknowledgement section, but a little bit more) is a must-read. I don’t know if you’re prone to reading them—particularly if they feel more like an Acknowledgment than anything else. But make an exception for this one. It’s worth your time.
So, what did I think about A Drop of Corruption?
I was blown away by The Tainted Cup, and so I was apprehensive about this one—could it live up to it? I’m pleased to say that it did. I very likely enjoyed this much more—because I was ready for the strangeness and could just let it build on what the prior book did.
I feel bad saying I had fun reading about all the trauma that these victims went through, but I really did. Kol and Dolabra—and Kol’s new local acquaintances are just so well-conceived and vividly drawn, that it’d be harder to be disinterested than captivated.
The mystery kept me guessing until the end (except for the time I thought I’d figured it out, and I was very wrong). There was even a point where I wrote in my notes, “Could this be a redder herring?” and it was anything but. I won’t go into details so you can be fooled like I was, but man… The only thing I like more than the smug satisfaction of figuring out a mystery before a brilliant detective is an author who can fool me into that smugness only to pull the rug out from under me. Not to get elitist or anything, but a fantasy writer should be worse at this than a mystery writer. Bennett didn’t get that memo.
I do think you could read this book without the first in the series—but don’t do that to yourself. Buy a copy of this now (or get on your Library’s waitlist), but get The Tainted Cup at the same time. If I’m right about where this series is going (or even almost close to right), you’re going to want to be ready for it. This is just dynamite.
This book deserves more compliments from me—but who has the time? (not the guy who meant to post this a week or so ago). A great mystery novel, a great fantasy novel, with characters that you’d want to read about even if the plots weren’t worth the time or trouble.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Random House Publishing Group – Del Rey, Random House Worlds, Inklore via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
The Library Game by Gigi Pandian
adventurous
lighthearted
mysterious
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? Yes
4.0
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Library Game About?
The project that Secret Staircase Construction is about to wrap up has a couple of distinctive elements (on top of the sliding bookshelves, escape room, etc.)—their client is dead, and his death is not a mystery at all. Most people might not consider that very distinctive, but those people haven’t read a mystery novel featuring Tempest Raj.
This client was an aficionado of classic mysteries—okay, aficionado is an understatement—he was borderline obsessed and had the money to indulge that obsession. As his death neared, he decided to turn most of his house into a library (leaving room for an apartment for his librarian nephew), stocked with his own collection. This sounds like a dream come true for most of my readers, right?
He hired Secret Staircase to give it just the right look and touch, even turning part of it into an Escape Room. Sadly, he died before it was completed, leaving his nephew to bring his vision to life.
While the library is being finished—and waiting for official approval to make it a public entity—there’s a neighborhood festival. To get some promotion for the library (and to be good neighbors), they’ve hired some local actors to stage a little performance.
During a dress rehearsal for that performance, something goes wrong—one of the actors disappears (I’m glossing over a lot here), so they try again the next day—in the midst of that… I don’t even know how to gloss over this. It’s like they all chanted “Macbeth!” while walking under a ladder and crossing a black cat’s path or something—so many things go wrong, and a body is discovered. Tempest’s magician friend, Sanjay, appears to be the prime suspect—although the rest of the actors and workers aren’t above suspicion either.
Well, more than one person floats the idea of the deceased client’s ghost being behind it all. So, there are plenty of suspects, however unlikely.
Tempest (and her friend group and family) has her work cut out for her if she’s going to clear Sanjay’s name, find the killer, and get the Library set for the festival.
The Sense of Fun
Yes, this is a murder mystery. Livelihoods, wrongful convictions, and more are on the line. But there is a strong sense of fun to this book. Our amateur sleuths are a group of friends who’ve been down this road before (three times to be exact)—in one way or another.
They like the challenge, they enjoy mysteries, illusions, and everything else going on here—and they can’t help but enjoy this in some way—and this comes out in their interactions with each other.
There’s a sense of play here as they work through this, some running jokes, and so on. I’m not saying that books two and three were absent fun, but it was played down a bit because of everything else. This is as fun as the first book—and maybe more so, because the relationships are better settled and Tempest isn’t under that cloud anymore.
Beyond the greater sense of fun than we’ve had for a bit, there’s the cozy and warm feeling you get from reading a solid found family/friend group (in the midst of a flesh and blood family), these people like each other. It’s hard to beat that feeling.
All of that serves as a bonus to a clever mystery.
So, what did I think about The Library Game?
I was fairly convinced that the previous book in the series, The Raven Thief was going to be the last one as it wrapped up a three-book arc, serving as a nice trilogy. I was so happy to be wrong—I wanted more time with Tempest and her friends—especially Ivy (I’d take a spin-off book full of her essays on locked-room mysteries) and Abra. Not to mention the fun of imagining Ash’s culinary offerings.
Beyond the characters, Pandian knows how to deliver a contemporary locked-room crime and how to keep the tension building while keeping the whole book entertaining. I need to make time for her backlist soon to see how these books compare with her earlier offerings.
I’d like Ernest Cunningham (or Ivy, I guess) to weigh in on Pandian’s books because I’m not entirely certain that she plays fair with her clues and solutions. Particularly in this case. But that’s just to satisfy a mental itch, because I really don’t care—I thought the solution to this and the reveal were pulled off satisfyingly well.
This would make a good jumping-on point for someone new to this world and is a must-read for people who enjoyed any of the previous three. It’s a clever book, a smart mystery, filled with good friends and warm feelings. Who doesn’t want that?
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Hit The Ground Running by Kate Ashwin
What’s Hit The Ground Running About?
Renji really doesn’t belong in the Forces—he doesn’t have the mindset, the discipline, any interest at all in serving, But he does have an Aunt who did most of the work in raising him. She’s rich, she’s powerful, she’s overly-indulgent of Renji, but she also has expectations. Hence, his presence in the Forces (which he probably would’ve washed out of already, if not for her influence).
But Renji’s at his breaking point, and he probably would’ve made an attempt at escape if not for the fact that he quite inadvertently interrupted an attempted jailbreak. The downside to this is that he ends up in custody with the jailbreakers—who turn out to be affiliated with a group Renji has been cheering on. They’ve recently released a lot of really embarrassing information about the Imperium International Corporation and other leaders of the city of Unity, in a WikiLeaks-type move. It didn’t do the damage anyone was really hoping for, but it did make a splash and get some people talking.
Okay, I’m taking too long here—Renji and the others (with some help from a super-competent hacker/”gal in the chair”) do eventually escape from the Facility in quite the flashy way, but without everyone they hoped to bring along with them. And Renji ends up visiting a part of the city of Unity he’s not that familiar with, Buried—it’s the part where the workers that support the corporation and government live (as well as their families, the unemployed, and whatnot). If you think of the city of Unity as The Titanic, this would be the third-class passenger area, but not as nice.
Renji wants to throw his lot in with the group, the Loose Ends. He wants to fight back against I.I., not out of any real outrage against them. But he thinks it’d be a fun adventure, and he does want to see things get better for the citizens down below—and to take I.I. down a peg or two. They’re leery of taking him on (mostly because they can tell his motives are shaky and he’ll probably get going when going gets tough—and not in the good way). But when a crisis hits, Renji comes up with a plan that just might work.
It’s nutty, it’s risky (mostly for him), but if he can pull it off with a little assistance from the Loose Ends and an older, battle-tested temporary ally of the Loose Ends, a lot of good can be done and the crisis could be averted.
The Characters and World
So the villain of this book is really “the System” as represented by Imperium International Corporation (and as you get to know them, you’ll be able to imagine any number of mega-corps of today turning into them).
But we get a few representatives of The System to focus on—nothing more than low-level hench-persons really. But higher-level reps will have to wait for the sequels. Primarily, we’re looking at Renji’s sergeant and three fellow-cadets who absolutely are not Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. But they do fit the same character types that those three do. All four of these antagonists are the kind you will enjoy seeing foiled—even if they are the bottom of the rung, you’ll have a lot of fun seeing Renji go up against them. Especially when he comes out on top.
The heroes—sort of a rag-tag rebel group (who really aren’t trying to overthrow anyone, just trying to survive). They’re a hodge-podge of ages, temperaments, and skills. You will almost instantly like them—while wanting to ask so many questions about all of them. I’m tempted to talk about all of them for a sentence or two, but that would get old. But I like their internal dynamics, I like them as individual characters and cannot wait to see Ashwin develop them all. They also have a number of allies—from people who work in food stalls, to a club owner, to a strange medic/tech repair duo. Really, the Loose ends and the allies we meet in this book deserve a short story or two each, just to give them a chance to shine. (Ashwin, if you see this post and run with it—no need to cut me in, the results will be reward enough. Unless this lands you a TV deal or something.).
Then there are the largely nameless and faceless people in Buried. They suffer due to what I.i. does. They have to deal with any retaliation that comes down due to Loose Ends. We don’t see much of them, but we get to meet their Community Council (even in a dystopia, lower-level government officials are petty and useless, good to know some things are constants). There’s enough citizens, and enough grudges, seen that Loose Ends will have a steady supply of potential allies in future books (and probably future turn-coats, but let’s focus on the positives).
Unity City, once-upon-a-not-too-distant time, was the city of Steelpool, which the corporation bought from a struggling U.K. government to act as its wold headquarters. It’s from Unity that I.I. can distribute it’s Internet programming, sell and market its products, and so on. Mid-level Executives on up, live there. The workers, support staff, their families, etc. are stuck in Buried.
Is This Actually Cyberpunk?
It’s being marketed as cyberpunk. But I think a lot of readers are going to bump up against the tone—the humor, the snark, the optimism that Renji brings and wonder about that.
If you look at the tech (which I haven’t done a good job of describing), the merger of corporation/government/city-state military, the dystopian nightmare that most of these people endure. You’ve got yourselves the making of a decent cyberpunk reality. But what about tone?
But you’ll be grinning throughout this book, there’s some good laughs, there are some goofy moments, and so on. How does that fit with William Gibson and Bruce Sterling’s Mirrorshade vision? Can you do a non-noir cyberpunk? I think yes. Think of Snow Crash while Hiro is a pizza delivery driver (sure, that’s post-cyberpunk), some of Rudy Rucker’s work, and …a couple of others I suddenly can’t think of the names of. There are even bits of Gibson’s Sprawl trilogy that are about this amount of fun. So yeah, it’s an outlier, but it’s not without precedent.
I only bring this up because I’m pretty sure there are some purists who’d complain about this. People who ignore the whole “punk” part of the aesthetic, no rules, etc. I really don’t care what others think. I’ll take a cyberpunk that makes me grin any day (especially now).
So, what did I think about Hit The Ground Running?
This is a heist novel and I wait until now to talk about a heist? What is wrong with me? It’s an audacious plan with a great and benevolent pay-off. Naturally, as any self-respecting heist story demands—it goes awry. The reader knows that even before Renji outlines his plan—the questions are: how does it go awry, and how do our heroes respond? All I’m going to say about that is that I’m eager for book 2 in this series.
This is a fast-moving story with a lot of moving pieces—Ashwin keeps the plates spinning just fine and moves the story along just fine. This is so hard to talk about without getting into the details of the heist, the character twists (of the two bigger ones, I saw one coming miles away and the other took me totally unawares) were revealed with panache, or anything else.
Ashwin’s been storytelling for a long time in graphic novels, she knows how to tell a story and bring characters to life. Turns out she can do that just as well with words as she can do with pictures and words (or so I assume, I haven’t dipped a toe in to that yet).
There’s a bit of a budding romance (or is it just a lust story?) that acts as a great distraction for Renji, too. That didn’t do much for me, I thought we had enough other things to keep the story going—but it’s a good plot complication—and who knows, maybe it lays the groundwork for something better.
This is a quick read. A fun read. There are so many bits and pieces I’d call out here, but you should read them for yourselves.
If you’re up for a good time (even if cyberpunk isn’t your thing—just think of it as snarky SF), you’d do yourself a favor to give this a whirl. I need to see what comes next, and I expect after your introduction to the Loose Ends, you will, too.
adventurous
lighthearted
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
You, like me, may assume that all Cyberpunk novels are set in joyless dystopias, where the neon lights and other brightly colored signs shine out against a gray and raining night (like every scene with Rick Deckard walking on his way to get some food). You’re largely correct. But what if I told you that didn’t have to be the case? Well, read on…
It was around 10 p.m. on a Thursday when Renji thought he might have a go at breaking out of prison. This idea was terrible for several reasons.
One, the prison in question was an Imperium International Forces Containment Facility, the kind widely reputed for being near-impossible to escape. Two, said facility was an airship in flight some fifty storeys above solid ground. The third, and perhaps most important reason was that he wasn’t even a prisoner, he was a guard.
But to I.I. Forces Cadet Renjiro Starkweather, the young man leaning out of the mess hall kitchen’s window to sneak a crafty cig, these reasons didn’t seem quite good enough to not at least have a try.
What’s Hit The Ground Running About?
Renji really doesn’t belong in the Forces—he doesn’t have the mindset, the discipline, any interest at all in serving, But he does have an Aunt who did most of the work in raising him. She’s rich, she’s powerful, she’s overly-indulgent of Renji, but she also has expectations. Hence, his presence in the Forces (which he probably would’ve washed out of already, if not for her influence).
But Renji’s at his breaking point, and he probably would’ve made an attempt at escape if not for the fact that he quite inadvertently interrupted an attempted jailbreak. The downside to this is that he ends up in custody with the jailbreakers—who turn out to be affiliated with a group Renji has been cheering on. They’ve recently released a lot of really embarrassing information about the Imperium International Corporation and other leaders of the city of Unity, in a WikiLeaks-type move. It didn’t do the damage anyone was really hoping for, but it did make a splash and get some people talking.
Okay, I’m taking too long here—Renji and the others (with some help from a super-competent hacker/”gal in the chair”) do eventually escape from the Facility in quite the flashy way, but without everyone they hoped to bring along with them. And Renji ends up visiting a part of the city of Unity he’s not that familiar with, Buried—it’s the part where the workers that support the corporation and government live (as well as their families, the unemployed, and whatnot). If you think of the city of Unity as The Titanic, this would be the third-class passenger area, but not as nice.
Renji wants to throw his lot in with the group, the Loose Ends. He wants to fight back against I.I., not out of any real outrage against them. But he thinks it’d be a fun adventure, and he does want to see things get better for the citizens down below—and to take I.I. down a peg or two. They’re leery of taking him on (mostly because they can tell his motives are shaky and he’ll probably get going when going gets tough—and not in the good way). But when a crisis hits, Renji comes up with a plan that just might work.
It’s nutty, it’s risky (mostly for him), but if he can pull it off with a little assistance from the Loose Ends and an older, battle-tested temporary ally of the Loose Ends, a lot of good can be done and the crisis could be averted.
The Characters and World
So the villain of this book is really “the System” as represented by Imperium International Corporation (and as you get to know them, you’ll be able to imagine any number of mega-corps of today turning into them).
But we get a few representatives of The System to focus on—nothing more than low-level hench-persons really. But higher-level reps will have to wait for the sequels. Primarily, we’re looking at Renji’s sergeant and three fellow-cadets who absolutely are not Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. But they do fit the same character types that those three do. All four of these antagonists are the kind you will enjoy seeing foiled—even if they are the bottom of the rung, you’ll have a lot of fun seeing Renji go up against them. Especially when he comes out on top.
The heroes—sort of a rag-tag rebel group (who really aren’t trying to overthrow anyone, just trying to survive). They’re a hodge-podge of ages, temperaments, and skills. You will almost instantly like them—while wanting to ask so many questions about all of them. I’m tempted to talk about all of them for a sentence or two, but that would get old. But I like their internal dynamics, I like them as individual characters and cannot wait to see Ashwin develop them all. They also have a number of allies—from people who work in food stalls, to a club owner, to a strange medic/tech repair duo. Really, the Loose ends and the allies we meet in this book deserve a short story or two each, just to give them a chance to shine. (Ashwin, if you see this post and run with it—no need to cut me in, the results will be reward enough. Unless this lands you a TV deal or something.).
Then there are the largely nameless and faceless people in Buried. They suffer due to what I.i. does. They have to deal with any retaliation that comes down due to Loose Ends. We don’t see much of them, but we get to meet their Community Council (even in a dystopia, lower-level government officials are petty and useless, good to know some things are constants). There’s enough citizens, and enough grudges, seen that Loose Ends will have a steady supply of potential allies in future books (and probably future turn-coats, but let’s focus on the positives).
Unity City, once-upon-a-not-too-distant time, was the city of Steelpool, which the corporation bought from a struggling U.K. government to act as its wold headquarters. It’s from Unity that I.I. can distribute it’s Internet programming, sell and market its products, and so on. Mid-level Executives on up, live there. The workers, support staff, their families, etc. are stuck in Buried.
Is This Actually Cyberpunk?
“Please, look at him. He’s even worse of a blagger than you. He looks like he’s gonna sell you life-coaching advice through the internet.”
“Does not.”
“Does too. He’s a budget vampire. That’s a bargain bin Dracula, that is.”
“You are not being a very supportive friend right now.”
“I’m not supportive. Or your friend. Besides, actual supportive friends would tell you when you’re dating an evil executive from a shitty Robocop sequel. He looks like he’s going to have his plans to bulldoze the zoo foiled by some plucky teenagers.”
It’s being marketed as cyberpunk. But I think a lot of readers are going to bump up against the tone—the humor, the snark, the optimism that Renji brings and wonder about that.
If you look at the tech (which I haven’t done a good job of describing), the merger of corporation/government/city-state military, the dystopian nightmare that most of these people endure. You’ve got yourselves the making of a decent cyberpunk reality. But what about tone?
But you’ll be grinning throughout this book, there’s some good laughs, there are some goofy moments, and so on. How does that fit with William Gibson and Bruce Sterling’s Mirrorshade vision? Can you do a non-noir cyberpunk? I think yes. Think of Snow Crash while Hiro is a pizza delivery driver (sure, that’s post-cyberpunk), some of Rudy Rucker’s work, and …a couple of others I suddenly can’t think of the names of. There are even bits of Gibson’s Sprawl trilogy that are about this amount of fun. So yeah, it’s an outlier, but it’s not without precedent.
I only bring this up because I’m pretty sure there are some purists who’d complain about this. People who ignore the whole “punk” part of the aesthetic, no rules, etc. I really don’t care what others think. I’ll take a cyberpunk that makes me grin any day (especially now).
So, what did I think about Hit The Ground Running?
“Stopping them.” The tired look in Minjun’s dark eyes seemed as though it came from a much older man. “This isn’t afable with some terrible dragon for the heroes to hunt down, or a magic combination of words that will break the overlords’ evil spell. This is a city, a society, an ecosystem with problems embedded in its very roots. How exactly do you stop a society?”
This is a heist novel and I wait until now to talk about a heist? What is wrong with me? It’s an audacious plan with a great and benevolent pay-off. Naturally, as any self-respecting heist story demands—it goes awry. The reader knows that even before Renji outlines his plan—the questions are: how does it go awry, and how do our heroes respond? All I’m going to say about that is that I’m eager for book 2 in this series.
This is a fast-moving story with a lot of moving pieces—Ashwin keeps the plates spinning just fine and moves the story along just fine. This is so hard to talk about without getting into the details of the heist, the character twists (of the two bigger ones, I saw one coming miles away and the other took me totally unawares) were revealed with panache, or anything else.
Ashwin’s been storytelling for a long time in graphic novels, she knows how to tell a story and bring characters to life. Turns out she can do that just as well with words as she can do with pictures and words (or so I assume, I haven’t dipped a toe in to that yet).
There’s a bit of a budding romance (or is it just a lust story?) that acts as a great distraction for Renji, too. That didn’t do much for me, I thought we had enough other things to keep the story going—but it’s a good plot complication—and who knows, maybe it lays the groundwork for something better.
This is a quick read. A fun read. There are so many bits and pieces I’d call out here, but you should read them for yourselves.
If you’re up for a good time (even if cyberpunk isn’t your thing—just think of it as snarky SF), you’d do yourself a favor to give this a whirl. I need to see what comes next, and I expect after your introduction to the Loose Ends, you will, too.
Installment Immortality by Seanan McGuire
adventurous
emotional
tense
fast-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? Yes
4.0
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Obviously, there are some spoilers about the previous novel in the series, Aftermarket Afterlife to follow. And, you could probably say the same for the series as a whole. Take that into consideration if you read beyond the period at the end of this sentence.
What’s Installment Immortality About?
In the months that it took Mary to put herself back together after the attack on their training headquarters, the Covenant hasn’t been quiet. In fact, as they knew a ghost was involved in the attack, some of them have been targeting ghosts up and down the East Coast.
The anima mundi, still rebuilding its control, recruits (to put it nicely) Mary to stop them and rescue what ghosts she can. Mary gets permission to bring along some help from her family (the kind of help that can’t, say, get stuck in a ghost jar)—she doesn’t intend to, but she ends up bringing along Elsie and Arthur who have a need to do something, anything, to help them move on from their mother’s death.
So begins a cross-country trip filled with more danger than they expect (and they expect a lot).
More Mary
This book, like its predecessor, has done a fantastic job of showing the place of Mary in this family. She’s far more than just a quick message-delivery-system, or a genie that can show up at just the right time (she never really came across that way, but it’d be easy to see her filling those roles). It’s both heart-warming and heart-tugging.
She’s also changed a lot—thanks to Annie’s intervention at the Crossroads, and because of her new/growing relationship to the anima mundi. And there are more changes on the horizon—which will be fun to watch as people like me have become more invested in her after the last book.
I thought I had several things to say about Mary here, but just about all of them would need to be redacted. I really enjoyed our time with her, and while I expect that we’re going to be spending a few books focused on other characters after this one (Verity or Elsie are my guesses, which means it’ll probably be Alex), I’m looking forward to seeing what this new part of her life—ahem, afterlife—brings us.
Elsie and Arthur
Poor Arthur—I thought I had a pretty good handle on what was going on with him after the last book, but of course, there’s a lot more afoot than we could’ve known. With plenty of time with him—to see him interact with Mary and his sister, we get to hear a lot more from him and understand things from his perspective.
Then we learn even more from some outsiders. We’re going to have to spend some more time with Arthur soon, because leaving him where McGuire did is not comfortable.
Elsie, on the other hand, surprised me. I figured that like with Alex and Annie—and even the babysitter—when she got a chance to shine, she’d step up and show herself to be exactly the kind of kick-ass heroine that the Prices and Healys seem to specialize in. I won’t get into details, but she’s not cut from the same cloth as her cousins—but that doesn’t mean she should be taken lightly. It’s just that there’s an element of diversity even here that I wasn’t expecting, and I’m glad to see. I think it would’ve been boring to see her transform into a variation of Verity or Alice.
More interestingly than that for her was seeing her relationship with Arthur and how she’s reacting toward the Aeslin mice in their home.
So, what did I think about Installment Immortality?
This was a little bit of a let-down after the Aftermarket Afterlife. It was primarily a follow-up to it, tying up loose ends and getting us all ready for whatever is next. As such, it’s not going to be as good, it can’t be as powerful, and it should help the reader catch our breath. Also, saying it’s not quite as good as one of the best books in this series is not much of an insult.
But, oh man…there were so many things that are great about this book. For one example, there’s a conversation between Mary and one of the Aeslin Mice that is incredibly strange. And if you remember that we’re talking about a conversation between a ghost and a sentient, talking mouse with a perfect memory…strange should be expected. Not this level of it.
Of course, we get to meet new Cryptids, and more than a few ghosts. Their perspectives on the Prices, on the war with the Covenant, on Mary and the Crossroads (many don’t believe the Crossroads are gone, for example), and so on, are fascinating. It’s a good reminder—that we occasionally get, but not as strongly as we do here—how much people don’t instinctively trust this family. But we also get a variety of reactions to them along those lines.
This was very satisfying in terms of long-term character arcs, the war arc, and so on. Installment Immortality was also satisfying on its own terms. There’s some good supernatural, ghosty action. Some good reminders that the dead should not be messed with. Strong character development—no one leaves this book the way they came in. And some sweet moments that remind you that everyone can use a dog in their life.
This is not a book to jump into the series with, unless you want to spend a lot of time confused—Aftermarket Afterlife would function far better for that (as would starting at the beginning). But for long-term fans, this is exactly what they were looking for.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Tor Publishing Group via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Don't Tell Me How to Die by Marshall Karp
The book takes place in three parts: 1. When Maggie and her twin sister were seventeen and was dealing with their mother’s impending death and the events after it. 2. After Maggie’s diagnosis and her trying to implement the above plan. 3. Where the weaknesses in her plan threaten to overtake everything else.
Tone/Humor
For much of this book, it felt like Women’s Commercial Fiction more than anything. But two things kept me from concluding that—1. Marshall Karp is going to write something with a mystery/crime element, period. and 2. that cover image with the blood (or whatever) writing the word “Die.”
Even before I figured out what Karp was up to with this book, it became clear that this fit in more with some of the recent books by Lisa Lutz (particularly The Accomplice)—I’m also thinking of Sascha Rothchild’s Blood Sugar or a restrained Darynda Jones—than it did with a Jennifer Weiner or Abbi Waxman.
So as I was preparing to read this novel, I said that it “looks like a return to his roots” because of some of the blurbs talking about Karp’s humor and so on. When I think of Karp and humor, I think of his Lomax and Biggs series. So that’s what I expected.
I was very wrong. It took less than a couple of pages to realize that this was a different Marshall Karp than I’d ran into before. That’s not an evaluation, that’s a description. Here’s an evaluation: he pulls it off well. Again, see Rothchild or Lutz. The more I think about the Lutz comparison, the more I like it—if you think of the change between her Spellman Files and things like The Accomplice, Karp’s new tone is somewhat similar.
Either way, you’re getting a guy who knows how to write comedy, no matter the flavor. He also knows when to pull back and let the drama take center stage.
Twists/Structure
I know that when it comes to psychological or domestic thrillers the twists are what generate headlines. While I appreciate a good twist as much as the next reader, what’s more important to me is the reveal of the twist. Plots go in strange directions sometimes—it’s how the author prepares the reader for the twist and how the author lets us in on the strange direction.
As an illustration: Benjamin Stevenson’s Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone has a moment when he says that so-and-so enjoyed her final cigarette, or maybe she lit it, or something like that. The phrase “final cigarette” is the important part. Now, the reader has two guesses as to why that phrase is used here—1. She quits smoking after this or 2. She dies. As this is in the middle of a stressful weekend with her ex-husband’s family, with her on the verge of financial problem, her ex is definitely not coming back and is with his new partner, they’re all snowed in, there’s a killer on the loose, and the book isn’t close to ending…you pretty much know how that’s going to go for her. Does that matter? Not really, it’s how Stevenson sets us up for this and then how he shows us how she dies that’s important.
Now I’m not going to spill any of the twists or reveals in this book, but Karp does a few things like Stevenson did—they’re even more blatant, you could say. But he will distract you, make you wait a lot longer for the reveal, and will throw a bunch of red herrings at you (I won’t tell you how often I made a note like, “Oh, is this how he pays off X?” because I’d also have to tell you that I was wrong equally often). I didn’t guess anything right.
He also pulls a few things from seemingly nowhere—but explains them in such a way that you retrospectively say, “of course” or “y’know, that makes sense.”
Maggie
This is one of those books that you’re only going to keep reading (initially, anyway) if you get invested in Maggie, our protagonist/narrator quickly. Other elements might keep you going eventually, but Maggie’s diagnosis, Maggie’s plight (and kooky plan), and character/voice are what’s going to get you to commit.
If you ask me, you’re going to want to commit. You can tell from the beginning that she’s smart. She’s driven. She’s brave (at least in the face of some things…like dying). She loves her family. She’s gone through a lot. She’s pretty funny. (probably pretty, too, but that’s not that important, especially when you see the world through her eyes). You later learn what a good friend she can be and why she was elected.
Now, like a parfait, or an onion, or an ogre—Maggie has layers. I’m not going to talk about those layers because you need to discover them for yourself. But she has them—and you keep learning about those layers as the book continues. Each layer—for me, anyway, and I predict for most readers—got me to like her more as a person (pretty frequently) and as a character (always). Is there a difference? Sure—one extreme example (that doesn’t apply here, but gets my point across) would be Dr. Lecter. Fantastic character, but not someone you’d want to hang out with.
So, what did I think about Don’t Tell Me How to Die?
Is this as good as the first two or three Lomax and Biggs books? Probably not—although it’s been a long time since I last re-read them, also this is a different sub-genre, so I could be wrong. Also, that’s really high bar. Is this better than anything else that Karp has done since then? Yes.
The way that Karp unspooled this was so well done. I sat back and enjoyed the ride more often than I “ought” to have, and didn’t take as many notes and whatnot as usual—I was just into the ride that much that continuing was more important than jotting things down. At least in the moment…I’d be sure to write that idea down, right after this part. Well, maybe the next bit.
I should note that I dipped back in a couple of times while writing this post to fact-check myself and even now I ended up reading a few pages or a chapter when I only needed a clause or a name. Karp just doesn’t want to let me go.
Anyone picking this book up—unless you do it blindly (and even then it’s told to you within a chapter)—knows that Maggie’s mom died almost two decades before these events. And yet—in her final moments, her last personal triumph—I was moved. I shouldn’t care this much about the impending death of a character I knew was long dead. But I did. And again, even though it’s right there in the description, “And one absolutely evil woman practically destroyed [“my suddenly single father”‘s] life, mine, and my sister’s,” watching it feels like a traffic accident—you know it’s coming, but you can’t stop watching.
Maggie’s plot, when introduced, feels like a silly rom-com plot that’s going to blow up in her face. And for most of the book, her sister treats it that way. You kind of do while you’re reading, too. It feels like one, you react like one. Then…well, you start to take her seriously. As does her sister, Lizzie (eventually).
Speaking of Lizzie. I really would’ve enjoyed more time with her, she seemed like a hoot and a half. Her kids Katie and Kevin were also the kind of characters you want more of. And if we were looking at any other part of Maggie’s life, we would’ve had more time with all three and we would’ve been perfectly content watching them go through their life. But this book just introduces them, lets us spend some time enjoying them (in pretty un-enjoyable circumstances) and then we just have to imagine the rest of their lives. Which is enjoyable enough.
I feel like I’ve talked around the book a lot, hopefully, I’ve talked about it enough. But I’m not sure what else to say. On March 4, go pick yourself up a copy (or go put it on reserve at your library now, and read it ASAP). Then we can email or chat or something about it and I can say all the things I can’t put here.
Don’t Tell Me How to Die isn’t the Marshall Karp I know, enjoy, and respect. It’s a new flavor of him that I’m getting to know, that I did enjoy and respect. And I can’t wait to see what other sides he has up his sleeve (to torture the metaphor). I’m trying too hard. I’m babbling. Go read this and I’ll shut up. Deal?
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Blackstone Publishing via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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A Note of Introduction
I typically stay away from spoilers, but this is one of those books where almost everything I want to say feels like it’s in that general neighborhood. So I use illustrations from other books that are pretty well-known by this point. I can’t think of another way to do it that’s fair to Karp and this text.
What’s Don’t Tell Me How to Die About?
This is one of those novels where it’d be easy to say too much, so let me rely on whoever wrote the jacket copy at Blackstone:
I have one thing to do before I die. And time is running out.I had it all: a fantastic husband, two great kids, an exciting career. And then, at the age of forty-three, I found out I would be dead before my next birthday.
My mother also died young. I was seventeen, and she warned me that women would flock to my suddenly single father like stray cats to an overturned milk truck. They did. And one absolutely evil woman practically destroyed his life, mine, and my sister’s.
I am not letting that happen to my family.I have three months, and I plan to spend every waking minute searching for the perfect woman to take my place as Alex’s wife, and mother to Kevin and Katie.
You’re probably thinking, She’ll never do it. Did I mention that in high school I was voted “Most Likely to Kill Someone to Get What She Wants”?
The book takes place in three parts: 1. When Maggie and her twin sister were seventeen and was dealing with their mother’s impending death and the events after it. 2. After Maggie’s diagnosis and her trying to implement the above plan. 3. Where the weaknesses in her plan threaten to overtake everything else.
Tone/Humor
For much of this book, it felt like Women’s Commercial Fiction more than anything. But two things kept me from concluding that—1. Marshall Karp is going to write something with a mystery/crime element, period. and 2. that cover image with the blood (or whatever) writing the word “Die.”
Even before I figured out what Karp was up to with this book, it became clear that this fit in more with some of the recent books by Lisa Lutz (particularly The Accomplice)—I’m also thinking of Sascha Rothchild’s Blood Sugar or a restrained Darynda Jones—than it did with a Jennifer Weiner or Abbi Waxman.
So as I was preparing to read this novel, I said that it “looks like a return to his roots” because of some of the blurbs talking about Karp’s humor and so on. When I think of Karp and humor, I think of his Lomax and Biggs series. So that’s what I expected.
I was very wrong. It took less than a couple of pages to realize that this was a different Marshall Karp than I’d ran into before. That’s not an evaluation, that’s a description. Here’s an evaluation: he pulls it off well. Again, see Rothchild or Lutz. The more I think about the Lutz comparison, the more I like it—if you think of the change between her Spellman Files and things like The Accomplice, Karp’s new tone is somewhat similar.
Either way, you’re getting a guy who knows how to write comedy, no matter the flavor. He also knows when to pull back and let the drama take center stage.
Twists/Structure
I know that when it comes to psychological or domestic thrillers the twists are what generate headlines. While I appreciate a good twist as much as the next reader, what’s more important to me is the reveal of the twist. Plots go in strange directions sometimes—it’s how the author prepares the reader for the twist and how the author lets us in on the strange direction.
As an illustration: Benjamin Stevenson’s Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone has a moment when he says that so-and-so enjoyed her final cigarette, or maybe she lit it, or something like that. The phrase “final cigarette” is the important part. Now, the reader has two guesses as to why that phrase is used here—1. She quits smoking after this or 2. She dies. As this is in the middle of a stressful weekend with her ex-husband’s family, with her on the verge of financial problem, her ex is definitely not coming back and is with his new partner, they’re all snowed in, there’s a killer on the loose, and the book isn’t close to ending…you pretty much know how that’s going to go for her. Does that matter? Not really, it’s how Stevenson sets us up for this and then how he shows us how she dies that’s important.
Now I’m not going to spill any of the twists or reveals in this book, but Karp does a few things like Stevenson did—they’re even more blatant, you could say. But he will distract you, make you wait a lot longer for the reveal, and will throw a bunch of red herrings at you (I won’t tell you how often I made a note like, “Oh, is this how he pays off X?” because I’d also have to tell you that I was wrong equally often). I didn’t guess anything right.
He also pulls a few things from seemingly nowhere—but explains them in such a way that you retrospectively say, “of course” or “y’know, that makes sense.”
Maggie
This is one of those books that you’re only going to keep reading (initially, anyway) if you get invested in Maggie, our protagonist/narrator quickly. Other elements might keep you going eventually, but Maggie’s diagnosis, Maggie’s plight (and kooky plan), and character/voice are what’s going to get you to commit.
If you ask me, you’re going to want to commit. You can tell from the beginning that she’s smart. She’s driven. She’s brave (at least in the face of some things…like dying). She loves her family. She’s gone through a lot. She’s pretty funny. (probably pretty, too, but that’s not that important, especially when you see the world through her eyes). You later learn what a good friend she can be and why she was elected.
Now, like a parfait, or an onion, or an ogre—Maggie has layers. I’m not going to talk about those layers because you need to discover them for yourself. But she has them—and you keep learning about those layers as the book continues. Each layer—for me, anyway, and I predict for most readers—got me to like her more as a person (pretty frequently) and as a character (always). Is there a difference? Sure—one extreme example (that doesn’t apply here, but gets my point across) would be Dr. Lecter. Fantastic character, but not someone you’d want to hang out with.
So, what did I think about Don’t Tell Me How to Die?
Is this as good as the first two or three Lomax and Biggs books? Probably not—although it’s been a long time since I last re-read them, also this is a different sub-genre, so I could be wrong. Also, that’s really high bar. Is this better than anything else that Karp has done since then? Yes.
The way that Karp unspooled this was so well done. I sat back and enjoyed the ride more often than I “ought” to have, and didn’t take as many notes and whatnot as usual—I was just into the ride that much that continuing was more important than jotting things down. At least in the moment…I’d be sure to write that idea down, right after this part. Well, maybe the next bit.
I should note that I dipped back in a couple of times while writing this post to fact-check myself and even now I ended up reading a few pages or a chapter when I only needed a clause or a name. Karp just doesn’t want to let me go.
Anyone picking this book up—unless you do it blindly (and even then it’s told to you within a chapter)—knows that Maggie’s mom died almost two decades before these events. And yet—in her final moments, her last personal triumph—I was moved. I shouldn’t care this much about the impending death of a character I knew was long dead. But I did. And again, even though it’s right there in the description, “And one absolutely evil woman practically destroyed [“my suddenly single father”‘s] life, mine, and my sister’s,” watching it feels like a traffic accident—you know it’s coming, but you can’t stop watching.
Maggie’s plot, when introduced, feels like a silly rom-com plot that’s going to blow up in her face. And for most of the book, her sister treats it that way. You kind of do while you’re reading, too. It feels like one, you react like one. Then…well, you start to take her seriously. As does her sister, Lizzie (eventually).
Speaking of Lizzie. I really would’ve enjoyed more time with her, she seemed like a hoot and a half. Her kids Katie and Kevin were also the kind of characters you want more of. And if we were looking at any other part of Maggie’s life, we would’ve had more time with all three and we would’ve been perfectly content watching them go through their life. But this book just introduces them, lets us spend some time enjoying them (in pretty un-enjoyable circumstances) and then we just have to imagine the rest of their lives. Which is enjoyable enough.
I feel like I’ve talked around the book a lot, hopefully, I’ve talked about it enough. But I’m not sure what else to say. On March 4, go pick yourself up a copy (or go put it on reserve at your library now, and read it ASAP). Then we can email or chat or something about it and I can say all the things I can’t put here.
Don’t Tell Me How to Die isn’t the Marshall Karp I know, enjoy, and respect. It’s a new flavor of him that I’m getting to know, that I did enjoy and respect. And I can’t wait to see what other sides he has up his sleeve (to torture the metaphor). I’m trying too hard. I’m babbling. Go read this and I’ll shut up. Deal?
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Blackstone Publishing via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.
Aftermarket Afterlife by Seanan McGuire
Lest we think that the Covenant of St. George in general and Leonard Cunningham in particular have just been twiddling their thumbs while we’ve been focused on Annie’s adventures (although we see some of Leonard there) or the end of Alice’s quest, we learn very quickly that they’ve been active. They’ve been gathering intelligence and plotting. The result is a shock-and-awe campaign that takes the family and their cryptid (and human) friends and allies unaware—and results in several injuries, deaths, and loss of property. Probably more damage, too.
But before we can get to that, Thomas and Alice (and Sally) arrive at the Portland-area compound for a reunion/(re)introduction. This goes so incredibly poorly that the reader will initially be relieved by the attacks because you foolishly think that means things are going to get more entertaining.
All this results in Mary, of all people, coming up with a plan to take the action to the front door of the Covenant.
Luck Runs Out
adventurous
emotional
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Aftermarket Afterlife About?
Just before I started writing this (or started again…this is something like the 15th attempt since March of last year), I took a glance at what I wrote about Backpacking Through Bedlam. This was either a mistake because I said everything there that I was about to say to start this post and now I have to come up with something new. Or it was smart because now I can cut out a lot of things and point you to that instead.
I’m lazy enough to lean toward “mistake.” But let’s see what I can do instead.
Lest we think that the Covenant of St. George in general and Leonard Cunningham in particular have just been twiddling their thumbs while we’ve been focused on Annie’s adventures (although we see some of Leonard there) or the end of Alice’s quest, we learn very quickly that they’ve been active. They’ve been gathering intelligence and plotting. The result is a shock-and-awe campaign that takes the family and their cryptid (and human) friends and allies unaware—and results in several injuries, deaths, and loss of property. Probably more damage, too.
But before we can get to that, Thomas and Alice (and Sally) arrive at the Portland-area compound for a reunion/(re)introduction. This goes so incredibly poorly that the reader will initially be relieved by the attacks because you foolishly think that means things are going to get more entertaining.
All this results in Mary, of all people, coming up with a plan to take the action to the front door of the Covenant.
Luck Runs Out
I’m not sure that I noticed it during my initial reads of the series—but in the last couple of books, as I listen to them on audio, I keep hearing about the strange luck the family has. And honestly, even if I hadn’t used the word luck—it’s hard not to think that. Verity and her friends/family/loved ones (same for her brother and sister and their friends/loved ones) largely escape the novels unscathed.
The thing about luck is…it runs out. This can be seen in the way that Sarah’s rescue of Artie at the end of Calculated Risks isn’t as successful as we might have thought at the time. And for another telling piece of evidence is pretty much this entire novel.
Choice of Mary
I was initially surprised to see Mary the family’s babysitting ghost as our POV character for this one. I expected another of the Price kids to get the slot (it’s been too long since we spent real time with Alex, for example). But I wasn’t going to complain—if only because it was nice to see her backstory.
In retrospect, there was no other choice. The reader (and McGuire) needed someone who could rapidly move between the various parts of the country to see everything going on and to take part in the action in some (not all) of the places the Covenant was acting. Thanks to her being the major actor, we get a little more insight into what happened to the animus mundi following Annie’s defeat of the Crossroads.
There are a couple of other things that only Mary could contribute to this story, but I can’t talk about those. So, as I expected but didn’t see going in, McGuire didn’t have a choice in POV character. It just had to be her.
Hail The Aeslin Mice
It’s really hard not to feel bad for these guys (when they’re not making you smile) throughout the series. This is probably the hardest novel to get through because of what happens to them. Their losses—different from the losses the family takes, and almost worse—are so hard to watch. Ditto for the family talking about them.
What’s even worse is the note that the race as a whole likely doesn’t have many more generations left. I’m sorry…I’m just not okay with that. I hope/trust that we’re going to find out how wrong those predictions are.
So, what did I think about Aftermarket Afterlife?
When I put this down I said something—I don’t remember what—but my daughter seemed shocked at my reaction. I was stunned, I didn’t expect most of what I spent the last hour or so reading (or the hours previous to it) and I guess that came out forcefully. And I’m still in that frame of mind almost 11 months later. I’m stunned by what McGuire did here.
The InCryptid books have always been (in my mind) the lighter of McGuire’s series—Toby’s for drama and excitement, the Wayward Children are to fill you with whimsy and heartbreak, and Verity/Alex/Annie et al are for some goofy action and strange critters.
I should know McGuire better than that. She’s never going to just let something be light entertainment. Still, I wasn’t prepared for this escalation. I should’ve been. The signs have been there since the end of Chaos Choreography. I’m not going to get into all the ways she gut-punches the readers here. But there are several. Some small, some huge, some of indeterminate size as of this time.
Still, McGuire deals with the various personalities, histories, abilities, interests, and everything else like a master. The writing is quirky as it needs to be without taking away from the drama or heartbreak. Mary is a great character and it’s good to see her come into her own, and we see a lot from other family members that we haven’t spent enough time with, too—ll while catching up with old friends. This is McGuire at peak performance.
Installment Immortality is due soon, and I have no idea what to expect from it—nor from the series going forward. But it’s going to be a very different kind of entity than we’ve seen before. I can’t wait for it.
The Pilgrim's Regress by C.S. Lewis
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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A Bit of Personal History (feel free to skip)
Back in ’91 or ’92, I saw a copy of The Pilgrim’s Regress on a bookstore shelf. I was in a “read everything by Lewis you can get your hands on phase,” so I instantly picked it up. But the back of the book talked about it as the modern equivalent of Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress in a way that I figured I should read Bunyan before it.
It took me a little while to track down the Bunyan (the toilsome times before online bookshops), and by the time I worked my way through it, the bookstore didn’t have that copy any more and I was distracted by other things.
I’ve often thought about trying this book since then—but it wasn’t until I started thinking about this project that I finally combined ambition with general curiosity.
What’s The Pilgrim’s Regress About?
This modern-retelling of The Pilgrim’s Progressis an allegory about a man named John on his journey from childhood exposure to religion in Puritania to an Island of pleasure. Along the way, he has to deal with several physical, spiritiual and itellectual challenges to take him away from his journey (pretty much like Bunyan’s Christian).
This was the first thing that Lewis wrote after his conversion, and it’s considered to be an intellectual biography of that journey.
Basically, think Bunyan for the early 20th Century and you’ve got it.
A Couple of Things That Helped Me
Early on, John encounters a “brown girl” who distracts him from his interest in—or at least pursuing that interest. They begin a sexual relationship, which goes awry and causes some serious problems for John (actually, that entire relationship from her introduction on is a serious problem.) I was pretty sure that Lewis wasn’t making any kind of ethnic characterization or anything, but it’s hard to shake the feeling. Thankfully, reading this blog post by a Lewis expert made me feel so much better (and shows I was on the right path in general with it). I’d explain it, but Dr. Hurd does it better.
The other thing that helped was the afterword that Lewis wrote for the Third Edition, ten years after the original publication. He points to some flaws, or at least things he could’ve done better. I agreed with most of his self-diagnosis, and at least one point, his explanation made me understand an aspect of the book (and, yes, he was right to critique himself).
So, while I’m glad for the additional things that helped me appreciate the book, I trust that with very little effort, I could find more. I shouldn’t have to look to these kinds of things to appreciate a book. To gain a better understanding, sure. But to move me from “meh” to “okay, that wasn’t that bad/objectional” should come from the text itself—not from others.
So, what did I think about The Pilgrim’s Regress?
It’s been almost a century since this was first published, and I cannot decide if it’s a good thing or not that so many of the characters and ideas John encounters are still relevant and identifiable (although some details may have altered a bit). The reader can see that these intellectual movements are nothing new—sadly, many of them haven’t been forgotten. One of the best things about reading theological works written generations before me is wondering exactly what the author is targeting (or why they’re bothering)—but the ideas that Lewis wants to confront are still in his readers’ lives. Probably even more than they were for him.
The beginning of the book seemed promising with an uncaring and cold clergy, parents who were off the mark, and so on—I thought John’s journey would lead us to a correction of or confrontation with these things. But no, we get the brown girl and then things go far from where I thought we were going. Naturally, I don’t mind that—but I would’ve appreciated something more definitive. That’s personal taste, though.
Like many allegories, particularly Bunyan’s, there is nothing subtle about The Pilgrim’s Regress. That doesn’t mean it’s not good, or that it’s so clear always that there’s no thinking involved, but, wow—it does tend to feel like it’s hitting you with a brick when John encounters a new person/idea.
Am I glad that I read this? Yes. So I can see Lewis’ development as a writer, to satisfy a certain curiosity in general, and to cross off a decades-old item from my “To Read List.” For people who don’t have at least two of those motivations to pick this up, I can’t really recommend it. I’m not sure I really can for those who do have those motivations—but it satisfies those particular itches.
Is this bad? By no means. It’s not good either. I did particularly enjoy certain lines, scenes, or encounters. I thought some of the ways that Lewis framed the better alternatives to be refreshing and helpful. But overall this really did nothing for me.
The Boys of Riverside: A Deaf Football Team and a Quest for Glory by Thomas Fuller
Yeah, But You Don’t Like Football…
True. And it’s okay to not be really into the sport and to listen to this. You dislike the sport, do not understand it, etc.—and still get a lot out of the book. Sure, it’ll help if you understand 8-man vs. 11-man football, what some of the positions do, and so on—but really, that’s just the dressing.
This book is primarily focused on human drama—if you can understand what it means to work hard for a goal—and to achieve or falter—you can understand this book’s story. With the challenges these young men face, it makes their work different, it makes the triumphs sweeter, and the slips more devastating.
Really, at the end of the day, your feelings about the game they play are pretty much negligible.
How was the Narration?
Frequently—probably most of the time—it sounded like Fuller was trying to narrate some sort of thriller like Jack Reacher, Jack Ryan, or Jason Bourne (basically anything Scott Brick would narrate). But once I got past that, it was fine. I’m not sure this story needed that feel—but it didn’t hurt anything.
So, what did I think about The Boys of Riverside?
So you don’t come away from this book with just a good sports story. Fuller discusses various aspects of Deaf Culture, schools for the deaf (particularly in California), the connections between football and Deaf teams that have spread throughout all levels of the game, and more.
Then there’s the players and coaches—also weaved into the narrative are some good profiles of different individuals associated with the team. Like any good sports story—from fiction to the Olympics—its the individuals that draw in a reader/viewer. And Fuller tells that part of the story well.
Of course, the main focus is the team and their pursuit of a championship. And Fuller paces that story really well—so much so that even if you know how it ends before you start the book, you’ll be hooked and invested.
This is an engaging and entertaining read—one that’s occasionally educational, too. What’s not to like?
challenging
emotional
informative
inspiring
fast-paced
3.5
How Does The Publisher Describe The Boys of Riverside?
In November 2021, an obscure email from the California Department of Education landed in New York Times reporter, Thomas Fuller’s, inbox. The football team at the California School for the Deaf in Riverside, a state-run school with only 168 high school students, was having an undefeated season. After years of covering war, wildfires, pandemic, and mass shootings, Fuller was captivated by the story of this group of high school boys. It was uplifting. During the gloom of the pandemic, it was a happy story. It was a sports story but not an ordinary one, built on the chemistry between a group of underestimated boys and their superhero advocate coach, Keith Adams, a deaf former athlete himself. The team, and Adams, tackled the many stereotypes and seemed to be succeeding. Fuller packed his bags and drove seven hours to the Riverside campus.The Boys of Riverside looks back at the historic 2021 and 2022 seasons in which the California School for the Deaf chased history. It follows the personal journeys of their dynamic deaf head coach, and a student who spent the majority of the season sleeping in his father’s car in the Target parking lot. It tells the story of a fiercely committed player who literally played through a broken leg in order not to miss a crucial game, as well as myriad other heart-wrenching and uplifting narratives of players who found common purpose. Through their eyes, Fuller reveals a portrait of high school athletics, inspiring camaraderie, and deafness in America.
Yeah, But You Don’t Like Football…
True. And it’s okay to not be really into the sport and to listen to this. You dislike the sport, do not understand it, etc.—and still get a lot out of the book. Sure, it’ll help if you understand 8-man vs. 11-man football, what some of the positions do, and so on—but really, that’s just the dressing.
This book is primarily focused on human drama—if you can understand what it means to work hard for a goal—and to achieve or falter—you can understand this book’s story. With the challenges these young men face, it makes their work different, it makes the triumphs sweeter, and the slips more devastating.
Really, at the end of the day, your feelings about the game they play are pretty much negligible.
How was the Narration?
Frequently—probably most of the time—it sounded like Fuller was trying to narrate some sort of thriller like Jack Reacher, Jack Ryan, or Jason Bourne (basically anything Scott Brick would narrate). But once I got past that, it was fine. I’m not sure this story needed that feel—but it didn’t hurt anything.
So, what did I think about The Boys of Riverside?
So you don’t come away from this book with just a good sports story. Fuller discusses various aspects of Deaf Culture, schools for the deaf (particularly in California), the connections between football and Deaf teams that have spread throughout all levels of the game, and more.
Then there’s the players and coaches—also weaved into the narrative are some good profiles of different individuals associated with the team. Like any good sports story—from fiction to the Olympics—its the individuals that draw in a reader/viewer. And Fuller tells that part of the story well.
Of course, the main focus is the team and their pursuit of a championship. And Fuller paces that story really well—so much so that even if you know how it ends before you start the book, you’ll be hooked and invested.
This is an engaging and entertaining read—one that’s occasionally educational, too. What’s not to like?
Robert B. Parker's Buried Secrets by Christopher Farnsworth, Christopher Farnsworth
adventurous
challenging
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
4.5
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Buried Secrets About?
Jesse is called to make a welfare check on an elderly Paradise resident (no one he knows) and finds the worst outcome—they are weeks too late for this check. Also, the man was a hoarder, and it’s near impossible to navigate through his home to his body without disturbing some of his stacks of…whatever it was that he’d accumulated.
When one box of photos is dislodged, Jesse finds several photos of murder victims. Crime Scene techs soon find $2 million in cash stashed in the house. Either one of these finds would send Jesse’s “coply intuition” to sound alarm bills—the two together? He knows that they stumbled onto something bad—and worse is on the way to Paradise if they can’t wrap up this case soon.
The A Story and Jesse
(not that most of the cast of characters aren’t involved in this storyline)
Something about this case sets Jesse off. Something is eating him in ways that he’s unprepared for, and he gets a little on edge and grumpy (at least to those on the outside). The bottle is calling to him in a way it hasn’t for a while. The voice is loud and tempting. There’s at least once that he goes looking for a bottle that thankfully isn’t there anymore.
Something about this case sets Jesse off. Something is eating him in ways that he’s unprepared for, and he gets a little on edge and grumpy (at least to those on the outside). The bottle is calling to him in a way it hasn’t for a while. The voice is loud and tempting. There’s at least once that he goes looking for a bottle that thankfully isn’t there anymore.
The way this—and the related issues it brings up—work themselves out through this novel shows just how far Jesse has come since he first came to Paradise—or even since he stopped drinking in earnest. But that battle isn’t over.
The rest of the PPD is involved in this storyline, but this is Jesse’s focus throughout the novel—it’s also where everything that Jesse goes through emotionally/psychologically is rooted. As such, I’ve found that I can’t keep talking about this without telling you too much. So let’s move on to:
The B Story and Everyone Else
The day that this body is found is also the first day for a new officer for the PPD. He’d spent some time on patrol in a major city, and then a smaller city before this relocating. He tells Jesse that he wanted to be in a town like Paradise, where he could do some good.
There’s an incident or two—you could see them as first-day on-the-job eagerness, a training issue, or something worse. Before you know it, people in Paradise (and in the PPD) are divided over this one officer. Jesse is too caught up in this case, the city politics, and other things to really dig into things. Some others in the department aren’t so sure about him. Others are willing to give him a chance or three. Essentially, Jesse is willing to let things shake out on their own—at least until he’s able to close the murder.
He might not get that chance. Making this call is arguably Jesse’s biggest mistake in the novel.
In addition to the story of this officer, Farnsworth is able to bring in some discussion of what it means to be a police officer in the 21st Century USA. What does it look like, what kind of people should wear the badge? What kind of equipment should police departments have? How can people who have a problem with the police in their area safely do? There’s a related scene that touches on public protest and social media/legacy media fanning the flames.
In many—most—ways, this story is not the main focus of the book—but it’s so close that it might as well be. And as much as I enjoyed The A Story, this is the one that hooked me the deepest. Farnsworth did the franchise proud with it, too.
Farnsworth at the Helm
Poor Jesse Stone, this is his fourth author since Parker’s death. Just for that reason alone, I hope Farnsworth sticks around for a while. He and his readers need some continuity. Once you figure in what a bang-up job that Farnsworth did, I can underscore that hope a couple of times.
Unlike just about every other (I think every other, but let’s throw some wiggle room into this), Farnsworth didn’t give us a lot of trivia from Parker’s books to establish his bona fides. There were some references, but they were the same kind that Parker himself made. Farnsworth showed us his credentials in the way he wrote these characters, this community, and the story.
I was a little apprehensive about him—I read at least the first two of his Nathaniel Cade books—maybe all three, but nothing since. There was something about whichever Cade book was my last that didn’t leave me eager to try him again. Don’t ask me what it was—it’s been over a decade. I’m glad my loyalty to the series won out over my vague sense of apprehension (it wasn’t a close competition). He nailed it.
The one item that I’m most happy about is that with one line of dialogue, Farnsworth expanded on—added depth to—Dix. Did we need this for Dix? But I love that we got it. Also…it was a great way to give that gift to us.
BTS Question
I know there have been conversations between some of the Parker-verse authors about moves they were going to make with certain characters and whatnot—I can’t remember the details, but I heard in one or two interviews that Atkins or Coleman had to make an adjustment to one book because of something the other did (I’m being very vague because I don’t remember too much and I’m too lazy to do the homework). So I’m sure that Farnsworth and Lupica had a conversation about this book and the events of Hot Property.
What I want to know is how did Hot Property impact this novel? Did Farnsworth have Rita’s scenes in this book completed and added a couple of lines to reflect it? Did he have something else in mind for those scenes and revised them to take advantage of Lupica’s latest? Just what kind of collaboration happened?
Does this impact my appreciation for either book? Nah. But I’m certainly curious.
So, what did I think about Buried Secrets?
At each step along the way, I kept thinking of other things I wanted to say about this one—and at book 22 of a series (no matter how many authors have contributed), that’s saying something. I’ve done my best to limit myself to the bigger matters, but I think I could add at least another 5 paragraphs without breaking a sweat (and they’d likely lead to others).
When Coleman got Jesse into AA, I saw one fan complain about him turning Jesse into “another whining Twelve Step wuss” (that’s very close to it). This seemed like an odd take, as most of Parker’s work (since 1974’s God Save the Child) has celebrated people getting help via therapy or some other means to improve—even save—their lives. I’m afraid that some of what this book does is going to elicit similar reactions from that fan and many others. I hope that the publisher, the Parker Estate, and Farnsworth ignore all that. I don’t see anything here that doesn’t fit in Parker’s worldview (or at least the worldview of all of his fiction).
The Paradise Police Department—particularly the officers we’ve spent time with since Night Passage—got to shine as they ought to. Sure, it’s Jesse’s series, but Molly, Suit, Peter, Gabe, and the others are more than just cardboard cutouts in the background (obviously we don’t know as much about Peter and Gabe as we do some others). The more the various personnel get to contribute, the more the books feel like it’s about a Police Chief—not some rogue lawman. I’m glad Farnsworth did that.
Buried Secrets was satisfying on every level that I can think of. It’s the best Jesse Stone novel in years (with all due respect to Mr. Lupica), specifically since The Hangman’s Sonnet or Colorblind (now that I’ve mentioned those two books in particular, I could probably have written a post just about the ways that Buried Secrets parallels major elements of those, something I hadn’t thought of until now). It contains a good mystery, some strong social commentary, some great character moments, a bunch of characters on the other side of the law that you just have to meet, some solid action, and most of all, time with characters that fans have been spending time with for decades.
I strongly recommend this.
Disclaimer: I received this eARC from PENGUIN GROUP Putnam via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.