Scan barcode
theirresponsiblereader's reviews
533 reviews
The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett
adventurous
challenging
dark
funny
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
What’s The Tainted Cup About?
This is a Mystery/Detective novel set in a Fantasy world. But to say that almost diminishes it. This is a Fantasy world you’re not used to seeing—well, I’m not anyway, you might be better read in the genre than I am. At the core of the mystery story are tropes, characters, motives, and twists that anyone familiar with that genre will recognize and resonate with. Combining the two genres here only serves to make them better.
The instigating event is the murder of a significant, but not hugely important, military figure on an estate of one of the most powerful and rich families in the Empire. That’s enough to get the official investigator, Ana Dolabra, and her assistant, Dinios Kol, involved. When you add in the cause of death—a clutch of trees erupted from the Commander’s chest—well, that’s definitely going to get some official notice. And quickly put you in a Fantasy world. Feel free to read that cause of death a couple of times, it’s still not going to make sense.
There’s just so much to talk about with The Tainted Cup—I’m going to talk about some of the best parts of this book as you would an Oreo cookie. The Mystery part is the creamy center (at least a Double Stuff in this case), and then the crispy cookie halves of the World Building/Setting and the Science of this World.
The Mystery
I already wrote a section below that quibbles with the official description, and I feel bad about doing that twice (am I risking future NetGalley approvals by this?), but I have to. It starts off by saying, “A Holmes and Watson–style detective duo.” You can maybe stretch things and call Ana Dolabra a Holmes-type character. Maybe. But outside of being the first-person narrator, there is nothing Dr. Watson-esque about Dinios Kol. I do not know if Bennett is a Rex Stout/Nero Wolfe reader. I suspect he is, though, because Dolabra and Kol are firmly in the Nero Wolfe/Archie Goodwin mold. (there are other versions of this duo, Pentecost and Parker and Jake and the Fatman spring to mind, but there are others).
I mention this because I think the duo of Wolfe and Archie is one of the greatest achievements in Detective Fiction, and will joyously talk at length about them at length at any opportunity. Bennett using these types at the center of this book almost automatically guaranteed that I’m going to enjoy it. Particularly if he does it successfully. And, boy howdy, does he.
Ana Dolabra is a brilliant and eccentric figure. Our Nero Wolfe. She can be pressed into politeness with enough reason, but on the whole, she’s blunt, crass, and solely focused on things that interest her. For a variety of reasons, Ana rarely leaves her quarters, instead, she has clues, interviewees, and suspects brought to her (and frequently, those she reports to, too). More than once she brings suspects and interview subjects together to question and/or to reveal a solution, putting on a show for others.
She has a new assistant, Dinios Kol, to serve as her eyes and ears in the outside world—and to bring back those bits of the world she needs to do her work. Thanks to a special augmentation, he has a perfect and permanent memory and will remember entire conversations and things he sees perfectly, with the ability to describe them to the detail Ana needs. He looks at crime scenes, records, bodies, etc. for her, conducts initial interviews with witnesses and experts, and so on. He also seems to do his best to keep her interactions with others at socially-appropriate levels (although this is a challenge). If this isn’t Archie Goodwin to a T.
They’ve been working together for a while now—mostly on fraud cases. This is their first murder case—and they wrap it up quickly and efficiently. Except, Ana is pretty sure that this murder will be linked to others—something more than murder is afoot here, she’s certain. And she’s right. (I assume this is almost always the case—Dinios certainly does)
Soon, she and her assistant are assigned to help in the investigation in a nearby city where several others have been killed in the same way. Dinios is partnered up with an experienced Assistant Investigator, Capt. Tazi Miljin, who does some on-the-job training and mentoring while working the case.
Soon, they determine that this isn’t just a murder case—nor is it several connected murder cases, there is something much bigger going on. Something that puts an entire city—possibly the entire Empire—at risk.
The World
I don’t know that I want to get too in-depth here, because the discovery of it all* is part of the magic of this book.
* And by “all,” I mean all that Bennett is going to share with us in this book—there’s much more to learn in books to come.
We find ourselves in a minor city in an Empire at the beginning of the novel before we move to a larger city, a major center of military importance. We don’t know a lot about this Empire—it’s centuries old, there are civic religions/cults but we see very few true adherents, and many people are cynical about the government. But it doesn’t matter—they need the Empire to keep them alive. So they push on.
The military isn’t focused on other nations/city-states/bands of roving mercenaries or outside human threats (although they do take the time to focus on bands of deserters). Instead, they’re focused on the seas. Each year, during the rainy season, monstrously large sea creatures they dub Leviathans (both think and don’t think about other Leviathans you’ve come across—other than large, water-bound, and scary) attempt to come ashore and snack on humans, cattle, whatever.
Places like Talagray, where we spend most of the novel, exist to maintain the wall between sea and land—leviathan and Empire—it’s a massive wall (massive in a way I cannot get across to you) with the occasional weapons mounted to attack the leviathan. I saw Talagray as sort of Jackson’s vision of Minas Tirith, but flattened to one elevation. I’m not sure if that’s what Bennet was going for, but that’s what my mind saw. Maybe a little muddier.
While the local canton is concerned with the murders, naturally, their primary concern during this season is the maintenance of the wall. Some of these murders have threatened the integrity of the wall in important ways, threatening all of Talagray. As important as solving the murder is—stopping further murders and therefore preventing further damage to the wall is far more important. Also…they probably have something special in store for anyone who’d risk the wall in any way.
The Science
I’m disagreeing a bit here with the official description—so take my observation with a grain of salt (but I stand by it). There’s no magic in this Fantasy novel—which, sure, happens sometimes. But it’s still strange and notable.
What this novel does have is “sufficiently advanced technology [which] is indistinguishable from magic.” It’s not often that I get to apply Clarke’s Third Law this way, but it works. This is a very technological society, but nothing we’d recognize, really. There are no circuits anywhere, no electricity…horses and carts are the primary means of transportation for those who are going too far or need to go too quickly to walk. But they practice all sorts of engineering feats, genetic manipulation, medical marvels, and so on.
The source of their raw materials? The Leviathans that threaten them all. When these Leviathans die/are killed, the Empire’s scientists harvest blood, tissue, and bone for all sorts of things to accomplish the above. Leviathan bone is difficult to shape, but it results in tools and swords that are beyond the strength and endurance of metal. Tissues can be manipulated and applied to humans to extend their abilities (augmenting strength, enabling them to have memories that are like eidetic memory to the nth power, control of their pheromones to alter the behavior of those around them, and so on).
Especially when it comes to the abilities that some of these people have, or the freakish contamination that the murderer is using, in a Fantasy book featuring people on horseback using swords, this looks like magic. But it ain’t. It’s just a kind of science that’s sufficiently advanced that 21st-century Western Readers can’t distinguish. And I love that. Bennett does such a convincing and thorough job of describing this (without getting mired in the details) that it just comes alive and you believe it all—and want to learn more about it.
So, what did I think about The Tainted Cup?
My reflex reaction ought to be, I want more of the detective-y stuff. How could I not? That’s my default genre, Ana is a fantastic character, Dinios at work is so much fun, and the pair of them being new incarnations of Wolfe and Archie. But when you add in the world-building, the intrigue and politics, and all the cool science-y bits? I wouldn’t have it any other way. You need all of it to make something this good. And it really does—each section above would probably earn 4 stars or so from me. But when you put them together, the accumulated score has to be at least 5.
Also, all the other stuff in the book distracts from a couple of the problems with the mystery story. These aren’t significant problems by any means, but at one point Ana reveals that Person X is Person Y, and her assistants are shocked and amazed. I assumed everyone realized that as soon as Person Y was introduced and described. For it to take umpteen chapters for everyone to catch up astounded me (am pretty sure Ana was as fast as me, for the record). The other thing that I’d consider a problem, I won’t get into for spoiler-reasons, but I was distracted enough that I didn’t see it until the reveal. Also, it’s the kind of thing that Rex Stout himself would do, so I’m never going to complain about it. Mostly, because it worked really well for the story, so who cares?
Regular readers may have noted that I haven’t spent that much time talking about the characters. I chose not to for time/space reasons. If I focused on writing about Ana, Dinios, and Miljin alone—I’d double the length of this post. If I included every major character I want to talk about? I’d triple the length. No one wants to read me going on that long. So I’ll sum it up by saying that his characters are just as good and developed (and strange) as everything else I’ve talked about.
Bennett doesn’t show a lot of flair in this writing. It has almost none of Elmore’s “Hooptedoodle”—although he violates a lot of Elmore’s other rules (and does so for the betterment of the novel). This is a description, not a criticism, you’re not going to be wowed with his style. He doesn’t need that. The descriptions of characters, structures, and monsters are so vivid, so detailed you have no problem seeing exactly what he wants you to see (with just enough room for the reader’s imagination). The action scenes are well-executed. The descriptions of the trees growing from outside of a person are as disturbing as they should be. There are flashes of humor, flashes of hope and optimism in both the characters and the story—but it’s all in the shadow of the imminent threat posed by the Leviathans and weakened walls. So there’s a strong “The World May Be Ending Tomorrow if not Tonight” feel throughout. I was under the spell of the narration and story from early on.
I didn’t set out to rave about this book. I was going to enthusiastically recommend it, but as I started to put my notes into some sort of order and write, I discovered that I really needed and wanted to rave about this. Fantasy fans are really going to get into this. Mystery/Detective Fiction fans who aren’t afraid to play in other worlds are going to go nuts over this. And I want to read the next book in the series today. But I’m willing to be patient—The Tainted Cup won’t even be published for 26 days. So I won’t start complaining about the delay in getting the next volume for 90 days (that seems fair).
Go place your orders or library holds now.
The Blacktongue Thief by Christopher Buehlman
The Narration
(I’m sure I’ve said this before) It can be dangerous for an author to narrate their own book, but when they’re good narrators, they can bring something special to the performance as they understand the book in a way a hired gun never can. Buehlman is one of those authors who should read his own material all the time. He did a bang-up job with the accents, the characters, the comedy, and the drama.
I don’t know how this would come across in the print version—I’m assuming it would somehow—but in the audiobook, Buehlman makes Kinch speak with some sort of Irish accent (probably safer to say it’s more Irish-ish so he can deviate when he wants), which communicates so much about him. You hear that, and you automatically get his strange cynical optimism, the poverty he came from, his odd sense of humor. I don’t know how quickly that would be communicated with some other accent—but it immediately made sense to me. Galva’s accent is very different, and utterly fitting, too. I don’t know if other narrators would’ve made choices like he did to communicate that all so well—but I have to give him kudos for that.
So, what did I think about The Blacktongue Thief?
I can’t really discuss what I think of this book and the various plotlines/characters without spoiling the whole thing. So let’s stick to overall impressions.
Buelhman can create a character that shows up for a few pages—or recurs throughout the whole book—that is so well-drawn that you could imagine them carrying their own novella (at least). The magic system (systems?) are inventive—or at least used inventively—and I can think of several mages from other series that would be in trouble if they tried to cross some of these. The main storyline for Kinch seems locked-in early on, but also it’s pretty clear (I think) that he’s going to diverge from his assignment early. But the way it happens is enough to make you sit up and take notice (and perhaps mumble something like, “Are you sure about this, man?”).
Among the many subplots here is a love story—and I don’t know if I’ll come across one so effective for the rest of the year.*note It’s so sweet, so real. And really strange in the way that only fantasy can pull off.
* Okay, I wrote that sentence before I got too far into Charm City Rocks by Matthew Norman a day later, I really shouldn’t make statements like that in January.
By the same token, there’s this rivalry between Kinch and someone he knew in childhood. Their lives took very different paths, and Kinch (somewhat rightly) feels guilt over the way things went—Malk feels a lot of resentment about it (somewhat rightly, entirely understandably). Watching them navigate this reunion in various circumstances is a real treat. There’s some good depth, some believable realism to it—and Beuhlman is able to keep it entertaining.
I don’t want this to sound like it’s a comedy or a light-hearted caper kind of novel. It’s not. There’s a lot of darkness in these pages, a lot of tragedy and bloodshed, there’s some kind of duplicity on almost every page, and absolutely no one comes out of this unscathed. Assuming they come out of this at all. But you will be hooked; you will be invested in these characters; you will be mystified, weirded out, and perhaps a bit grossed-out by the magic; and you will probably want to avoid large bodies of water juuuuust in case one of Beuhlman’s krakens are nearby.*
* I know nobody has happy, shiny krakens full of humor and rainbows. But something about his seemed a degree or two worse.
I picked this up on a whim, mostly out of mild curiosity. But now I have to know what’s coming next.
adventurous
funny
hopeful
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
What’s The Blacktongue Thief About?
I don’t know how to answer that question in under 8 single-spaced pages (okay, that’s hyperbole…but it feels honest). Also, this is one of those audiobooks that leaves a listener without a clue how to spell just about everything (for example, I just learned how to spell the main character’s name), so you have to factor into my utter inability to write character/nationality/etc. names to my trepidation about trying to sum it up.
So I’m going to just paste what the publisher’s site says…
Kinch Na Shannack owes the Takers Guild a small fortune for his education as a thief, which includes (but is not limited to) lock-picking, knife-fighting, wall-scaling, fall-breaking, lie-weaving, trap-making, plus a few small magics. His debt has driven him to lie in wait by the old forest road, planning to rob the next traveler that crosses his path.
But today, Kinch Na Shannack has picked the wrong mark.
Galva is a knight, a survivor of the brutal goblin wars, and handmaiden of the goddess of death. She is searching for her queen, missing since a distant northern city fell to giants.
Unsuccessful in his robbery and lucky to escape with his life, Kinch now finds his fate entangled with Galva’s. Common enemies and uncommon dangers force thief and knight on an epic journey where goblins hunger for human flesh, krakens hunt in dark waters, and honor is a luxury few can afford.
The Narration
(I’m sure I’ve said this before) It can be dangerous for an author to narrate their own book, but when they’re good narrators, they can bring something special to the performance as they understand the book in a way a hired gun never can. Buehlman is one of those authors who should read his own material all the time. He did a bang-up job with the accents, the characters, the comedy, and the drama.
I don’t know how this would come across in the print version—I’m assuming it would somehow—but in the audiobook, Buehlman makes Kinch speak with some sort of Irish accent (probably safer to say it’s more Irish-ish so he can deviate when he wants), which communicates so much about him. You hear that, and you automatically get his strange cynical optimism, the poverty he came from, his odd sense of humor. I don’t know how quickly that would be communicated with some other accent—but it immediately made sense to me. Galva’s accent is very different, and utterly fitting, too. I don’t know if other narrators would’ve made choices like he did to communicate that all so well—but I have to give him kudos for that.
So, what did I think about The Blacktongue Thief?
I can’t really discuss what I think of this book and the various plotlines/characters without spoiling the whole thing. So let’s stick to overall impressions.
Buelhman can create a character that shows up for a few pages—or recurs throughout the whole book—that is so well-drawn that you could imagine them carrying their own novella (at least). The magic system (systems?) are inventive—or at least used inventively—and I can think of several mages from other series that would be in trouble if they tried to cross some of these. The main storyline for Kinch seems locked-in early on, but also it’s pretty clear (I think) that he’s going to diverge from his assignment early. But the way it happens is enough to make you sit up and take notice (and perhaps mumble something like, “Are you sure about this, man?”).
Among the many subplots here is a love story—and I don’t know if I’ll come across one so effective for the rest of the year.*note It’s so sweet, so real. And really strange in the way that only fantasy can pull off.
* Okay, I wrote that sentence before I got too far into Charm City Rocks by Matthew Norman a day later, I really shouldn’t make statements like that in January.
By the same token, there’s this rivalry between Kinch and someone he knew in childhood. Their lives took very different paths, and Kinch (somewhat rightly) feels guilt over the way things went—Malk feels a lot of resentment about it (somewhat rightly, entirely understandably). Watching them navigate this reunion in various circumstances is a real treat. There’s some good depth, some believable realism to it—and Beuhlman is able to keep it entertaining.
I don’t want this to sound like it’s a comedy or a light-hearted caper kind of novel. It’s not. There’s a lot of darkness in these pages, a lot of tragedy and bloodshed, there’s some kind of duplicity on almost every page, and absolutely no one comes out of this unscathed. Assuming they come out of this at all. But you will be hooked; you will be invested in these characters; you will be mystified, weirded out, and perhaps a bit grossed-out by the magic; and you will probably want to avoid large bodies of water juuuuust in case one of Beuhlman’s krakens are nearby.*
* I know nobody has happy, shiny krakens full of humor and rainbows. But something about his seemed a degree or two worse.
I picked this up on a whim, mostly out of mild curiosity. But now I have to know what’s coming next.
Blood Betrayal by Ausma Zehanat Khan
adventurous
challenging
emotional
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.
---
---
What’s Blood Betrayal About?
On one night, there were two police shootings in the Denver area. One is the shooting of a possible innocent bystander/possible fleeing suspect in a drug raid. The other is the shooting of a vandal by an officer who (claims? he) mistook a can of spray paint for a gun.
Both of the officers were white, and the men who died were young minorities. Both cases will call for the Community Response team to investigate, neither case will be easy for them (and not just because their limited resources will be stretched by simultaneous investigations of a charged nature).
So let’s deal with these in the order we learn about them…
Case 1
Harry Cooper isn’t a fantastic cop—nor is he a bad one. He’s a solid, middle-of-the-road officer, and has been one for years—and now is near retirement. He’s never used his weapon before, but while pursuing some vandals on foot, he fires a warning shot in the air. Then he’s sure he sees a weapon in the hand of the vandal facing him. So he shoots to kill.
It seems like a tragic mistake, but as he’s part of Sheriff Grant’s force, Lt. Seif seizes the opportunity to do a thorough investigation—to ensure that’s all it was, and to maybe get more intel to help his case against Grant.
A number of things start to not add up—mostly around the “vandal.” He’s not one. He’s an art student who isn’t even from Blackwater Falls. He’s taking part in a legitimate street art contest, for one, not someone tagging random private property. Secondly, Seif thinks the physical evidence may point to something bigger. But he’s just not sure what. He wants Inaya Rahman to lead the charge on this.
Case 2
But Inaya has other concerns. She left Chicago after being assaulted by a number of fellow officers, we learned last time. So when one of those officers shows up on her family’s doorstep, she’s disturbed (to understate it). John Broda has come to her for help—his son is a patrol officer in Denver assigned to help a drug raid on a marijuana dispensary that was known to sell harder drugs, too. In the midst of it, a potential suspect was shot. Officer Kelly Broday was arrested for murder, without saying he shot Mateo Ruiz, he is saying he’s responsible for his death.
John Broda wants her to investigate and clear Kell, and in return, John will give Inaya the evidence he needs to close her last case from her days in Chicago.
She starts to look into things in exchange for the evidence, but she’s soon convinced that Kell was set up—possibly by a gang within the Denver Police. But she can’t figure out if someone wanted Ruiz dead (or why), or if it all has to do with the officer. Or is it both?
Meanwhile, the communities both young men belonged to start to organize and protest—particularly the Hispanic neighborhood Ruiz was from—and the Police Department isn’t responding calmly. Time is of the essence for this investigation.
Everything Else
Which is just a pithy way of saying “Everyone’s Personal Lives and the FBI’s Investigation into the Blackwater Falls Sheriff.” We learn more about every member of the Community Response team (and the civil rights attorney they ally with), and whatever arcs we saw or got hints of in the first book progress nicely (well, at least for the reader—I’m making no promises about how the characters feel).
Those aren’t the important parts of these books, but the more we get invested in these characters, the more compelling we’re going to find how the cases impact them and their lives. As a plus, they’re all really interesting characters so the arcs make for good reading.
As far as the FBI Investigation goes? Well…it’s still a thing. I’m not sure how much more I can say.
So, what did I think about Blood Betrayal?
It’d be easy to write this series off as some sort of “woke” thing where a racially diverse group of police investigators find hate crimes everywhere. Especially when white cops kill black and Latino men. That would be a grave error, however. Khan writes complex stories that cannot be reduced to a simple, one-line explanation, never mind a label or two.
In Blackwater Falls we got one murder that led to the uncovering of a web of more crime and corruption. Here we have two murders that end up being about so much more—both cases are about as complex as the one from Blackwater Falls, but the way that Khan weaves the two stories together (if only because the investigators are the same) makes this an even more complex novel. We get two great crime stories for the price of one. Yes, I think one of the cases was easier for the reader to figure out—possibly too easy. But the way that the clues, motives, and solution were revealed more than made up for that. And the other case? You’re never going to guess the solution until Khan shows it all.
But better than that is the way Khan shows (again) how crimes like this can impact entire communities, and the tensions that result and build up (possibly spill over) between those communities and the police rings so true that you could believe it happening today.
But Khan’s not just good at the big, social commentary—the impact that these killings have on the families is obviously bigger than anyone wants to imagine. And, as she did in the previous novel, Khan shows the grief, confusion, anger, and the other emotions that strike a family at this time with sensitivity and keen observation. Over the last few years, I’ve started noticing this part of a police procedural, and I really appreciate it when the author does it well. Khan’s one of the best around in this aspect.
Throw in some strong writing and great characters to all this? You’ve got yourself a winner. One of the best sequels that I read this year. You’d be doing yourself a favor if you grabbed the two books in this series up and doing so soon.
The Mayors of New York: A Lydia Chin/Bill Smith Mystery by S. J. Rozan
adventurous
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
4.5
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
What’s The Mayors of New York About?
New York’s first female mayor has a problem. A few months after taking office, her fifteen-year-old son has run away. It’s not the first time, but it’s the first time since she’s been elected. She’s in the middle of high-stakes negotiations with a police union, so Mayor McCann doesn’t feel like she can turn to them without taking some PR hits/weakening in the negotiations.
So, she has her aide hire Bill Smith (who brings along Lydia, of course). It’s not easy tracking down one of the most recognizable teens in the city without letting anyone know you’re doing that—and it almost seems like the “without letting anyone know” part might overrule the “finding the teen” part of the job.
Now, Lydia’s trying to decide if she takes on a case of her own at the same time. Readers know long before they do that these cases will end up intertwined—otherwise, why would Rozan bring it up? And once Bill and Lydia cotton on to that, a hunt for a runaway takes on a whole new layer. Possibly several layers.
The Characters
Nah, I’m not going to talk about Bill and Lydia today—I honestly don’t know if I have anything else to say about them outside how they’re probably my favorite partnership in Crime Fiction (Robin/Cormoran—learn from these two. They trust each other and communicate frankly. Your lives will be the better for it, and the books will be shorter, too. Everyone wins.).
I want to talk about Mark McCann a little bit. At first, he’s just the target. He’s little more than a MacGuffin to get the plot moving. Then we start to learn a little about him and he becomes an actual character—one I want to learn more about. Then we get to meet him, and I like him a lot. And then Mark goes ahead and does some clever and stupid (read: dangerous) things and I want to see more of him.
The wanting to see more of him goes for everyone who’s alive and not under indictment of some sort at the end of the book—the McCann’s household staff, the people who help Mark along the way (and then help Bill and Lydia), and so on. I know it’s not really Rozan’s style, but if we could run across them in future books for a chapter or so just to spend more time with them, I’d really enjoy that. These all have a little more life to them than your typical witnesses, bystanders, and so on in PI Fiction. I particularly appreciated the way they all want some sort of Mayoral favor shown to their neighborhoods/communities and the way that Lydia takes notes to pass them along. A very nice—and real—note.
I feel like I should spend a few paragraphs on the most interesting character in this novel—Aubrey “Bree” Hamilton, the mayor’s aide who hires Bill to look for Mark. She and Bill dated years ago, and it’s clear from Bill’s First-Person Narration that the chip on his shoulder regarding this particular cheating %#&@ has is still pretty deep, no matter what degree of happiness he’s found elsewhere. It’s not just the way she cheated on him—Bill has no sympathy for her former PR clients (lawyers, largely) or the politicians she now works for, assuming everything they do or say is calculated for their benefit. He trusts Bree less than her bosses—and we see that throughout—but something about a 15-year-old boy who keeps running away from home speaks to Bill, so he has to investigate.
I got off target there, but I thought I’d explain Bill taking the case when he can’t stand anyone involved. Bree is a perfectly designed character—the reader can see how she’s good at her job, calculating, smart, and generally three steps ahead of anyone (aside from our protagonists occasionally). It’s impossible to tell how much she believes a lot of what she says, or if she’s saying it out of duty. And then there’s what she says to yank Bill’s chain a little bit. Bill (and therefore his narration) is so jaded against her that it’s hard for us to know how much of our negative reaction to her is justified and how much it is seeing her through Bill’s eyes. A great move by Rozan.
So, what did I think about The Mayors of New York?
The pace is fast without being breakneck. The dialogue is sharp and witty. Bill’s narration has never been more hard-boiled (his contempt for the client/client’s intermediary helps). The characters jump off the page. It’s what you want in a PI novel.
Early on, I had inklings about what was behind everything (and I’m pretty sure Rozan intended readers to). As the plot moved forward and we received more and more confirmation about those inklings, it made me uncomfortable and a little queasy. Why couldn’t I have been wrong? Why couldn’t these have been red herrings? Thanks to some skillful storytelling you don’t get bogged down in the wrongness of everything that’s afoot—it’s there and it colors everything, but your focus becomes on the characters dealing with it all, the reveals to other characters and the nail-biting way this story is resolved.
Yes, I think Rozan could’ve just as easily and skillfully let the characters and readers wallow in the muck of the crimes behind everything—but it would’ve changed the tenor of the book so much that the early chapters would feel out of place, and we probably wouldn’t have found some resolution that’s as satisfying.
Also, just because some things weren’t red herrings, don’t think that Rozan doesn’t toss enough of them at the reader to keep you wondering.
Rozan has been on a hot streak since Paper Son, and The Mayors of New York shows no signs of her slowing down anytime soon. And I am more than okay with that. If you’ve never indulged in this series before—this would work as a jumping-on point. Almost any of them would, really. The trick is to jump on somewhere for some of the best that PI fiction has to offer. A touch of the classic American PI added to a hefty helping of the 21st century. The Mayors of New York is one I heartily recommend to all.
Ozark Dogs by Eli Cranor
I still stand by that, but figure you need more, I just wasn’t sure what to say. I’ve finally given up and am just going to paste what Soho Crime has on their website (which, frankly, gives away more than I would’ve).
Consequences
Don’t get me wrong—there’s plenty of crime, tension, drama, and all the rest in the novel’s “today.” But in a very real sense the novel isn’t about any of that. It’s about what happened almost two decades before this that set the families on their courses and what the outcomes of those courses are.
This is a book about ramifications, consequences, pigeons coming home to roost—however you want to put it. When you read about those earlier events a part of you is going to ask, “Why didn’t Cranor write about that?” Most—or at least many—authors would’ve, and then some would’ve added something like this as a sequel. Or maybe as Part II in a longer novel.
Cranor’s not about that, though. His focus is on what those events do to the present. How they’ve shaped the lives of those in the present (primarily without their knowledge or understanding), and how the sins of the fathers can be visited on their sons and daughters.
The Author’s Note
Frequent/Regular readers will know that I almost never mention this kind of thing when I talk about a novel. Do read this one after you finish reading about the Fitzjurls, the Ledfords, and the rest.
Unless I miss my guess, you’ll agree with every syllable.
So, what did I think about Ozark Dogs?
This, like Cranor’s first novel, would be really easy to over-hype, so I’m going to try to be restrained here.
The prose is so sharp, so…on point. You can tell every syllable was considered, if you read portions of this aloud (or, I’m sure, listen to the audiobook) you will feel the work that went into it—although it’s so smooth and flowing that it comes across as effortless. You see exactly what Cranor intends you to see, probably feel what he intended, and understand the motivations (even the ones that disgust you) of these people in precisely the way he planned.
The dialogue is so well done that you might find yourself sounding a bit like someone from Arkansas for a day or two after you finish.
These characters—it’s hard to think of them as characters, really, they’re people. People you can imagine seeing on the news or in a documentary about all this. It won’t be the most flattering documentary about anyone, I should add. I think every single one of them crosses a line—more likely many lines—that they’ve known their whole life they wouldn’t cross, at least have resolved they wouldn’t cross again years ago. But they do, sometimes with regrets, sometimes with eagerness. And your heart breaks for them, even for some of them that you hope horrible things happen to by the end of the book. Fully developed, fully realized, very human (read: fallible and flawed) characters on every page.
Earlier I said this book is about consequences, and that’s stuck with me for months. But it’s also about devotion—sometimes devotion that borders on obsession. Devotion to a cause, devotion to an idea, devotion to yourself, or (the most dangerous?) devotion to a person (or group of people). There’s a straight line between every character and what they’re devoted to and those consequences.
But if you don’t want to think about books like that—and you’re just looking for a great read? Ozark Dogs fulfills that, too. It’s a full-throttle, action-packed, revenge-driven, thrill ride with great fight scenes, enough blood and guts to satisfy the reader looking for that, and some twists and reveals that’ll stun you.
Cranor gives us another thriller that you can give to an anti-genre snob, who’ll appreciate it as much as people who only read Crime Fiction/Thrillers will. If you haven’t read him yet, do yourself a favor and get this (and Don’t Know Tough) now and start waiting for his July release while you’re at it.
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
<i>I've been trying to write about this book since April. I know I'm not going to do this justice, and so I keep procrastinating. But with 2 posting days left this year...I can push it off no longer.</i>
What’s Ozark Dogs About?
One of the bigger hurdles for me in completing this post was figuring out what to put here, I toyed with:
It’s by Eli Cranor, which means it’s going to have a Southern Noir sensibility, is probably going to have something to do with family, and is going to be excellent. That’s all you really need to know.
I still stand by that, but figure you need more, I just wasn’t sure what to say. I’ve finally given up and am just going to paste what Soho Crime has on their website (which, frankly, gives away more than I would’ve).
After his son is convicted of capital murder, Vietnam War veteran Jeremiah Fitzjurls takes over the care of his granddaughter, Joanna, raising her with as much warmth as can be found in an Ozark junkyard outfitted to be an armory. He teaches her how to shoot and fight, but there is not enough training in the world to protect her when the dreaded Ledfords, notorious meth dealers and fanatical white supremacists, come to collect on Joanna as payment for a long-overdue blood debt.
Headed by rancorous patriarch Bunn and smooth-talking, erudite Evail, the Ledfords have never forgotten what the Fitzjurls family did to them, and they will not be satisfied until they have taken an eye for an eye. As they seek revenge, and as Jeremiah desperately searches for his granddaughter, their narratives collide in this immersive story about family and how far some will go to honor, defend—or in some cases, destroy it.
Consequences
Don’t get me wrong—there’s plenty of crime, tension, drama, and all the rest in the novel’s “today.” But in a very real sense the novel isn’t about any of that. It’s about what happened almost two decades before this that set the families on their courses and what the outcomes of those courses are.
This is a book about ramifications, consequences, pigeons coming home to roost—however you want to put it. When you read about those earlier events a part of you is going to ask, “Why didn’t Cranor write about that?” Most—or at least many—authors would’ve, and then some would’ve added something like this as a sequel. Or maybe as Part II in a longer novel.
Cranor’s not about that, though. His focus is on what those events do to the present. How they’ve shaped the lives of those in the present (primarily without their knowledge or understanding), and how the sins of the fathers can be visited on their sons and daughters.
The Author’s Note
Frequent/Regular readers will know that I almost never mention this kind of thing when I talk about a novel. Do read this one after you finish reading about the Fitzjurls, the Ledfords, and the rest.
Unless I miss my guess, you’ll agree with every syllable.
So, what did I think about Ozark Dogs?
This, like Cranor’s first novel, would be really easy to over-hype, so I’m going to try to be restrained here.
The prose is so sharp, so…on point. You can tell every syllable was considered, if you read portions of this aloud (or, I’m sure, listen to the audiobook) you will feel the work that went into it—although it’s so smooth and flowing that it comes across as effortless. You see exactly what Cranor intends you to see, probably feel what he intended, and understand the motivations (even the ones that disgust you) of these people in precisely the way he planned.
The dialogue is so well done that you might find yourself sounding a bit like someone from Arkansas for a day or two after you finish.
These characters—it’s hard to think of them as characters, really, they’re people. People you can imagine seeing on the news or in a documentary about all this. It won’t be the most flattering documentary about anyone, I should add. I think every single one of them crosses a line—more likely many lines—that they’ve known their whole life they wouldn’t cross, at least have resolved they wouldn’t cross again years ago. But they do, sometimes with regrets, sometimes with eagerness. And your heart breaks for them, even for some of them that you hope horrible things happen to by the end of the book. Fully developed, fully realized, very human (read: fallible and flawed) characters on every page.
Earlier I said this book is about consequences, and that’s stuck with me for months. But it’s also about devotion—sometimes devotion that borders on obsession. Devotion to a cause, devotion to an idea, devotion to yourself, or (the most dangerous?) devotion to a person (or group of people). There’s a straight line between every character and what they’re devoted to and those consequences.
But if you don’t want to think about books like that—and you’re just looking for a great read? Ozark Dogs fulfills that, too. It’s a full-throttle, action-packed, revenge-driven, thrill ride with great fight scenes, enough blood and guts to satisfy the reader looking for that, and some twists and reveals that’ll stun you.
Cranor gives us another thriller that you can give to an anti-genre snob, who’ll appreciate it as much as people who only read Crime Fiction/Thrillers will. If you haven’t read him yet, do yourself a favor and get this (and Don’t Know Tough) now and start waiting for his July release while you’re at it.
Alexandra Petri's US History: Important American Documents by Alexandra Petri
What did I think about Alexandra Petri’s US History?
There are 76 pieces in this collection–not all are going to be winners. The odds against that are just too great. The tricky thing is (obviously) the ones I consider winners aren’t necessarily going to be the ones that you identify as winners–that’s probably because you have more refined tastes than me. I’m okay with that (and you should be, too). But I assumed that going in, so the question is: are there enough that you’re going to find funny to make reading all of them (or at least starting all of them before occasionally deciding to move on) worth it?
Absolutely.
Some of these start strong and then peter out–like some Saturday Night Live sketches. Some start strong and build from there. Some are duds from the beginning. And a few (to go back to SNL) leave you wanting Matt Foley to yell about the van down by the river one or two more times.
A few of the pieces that had me laughing were:
I really could’ve gone on there, but I think between that and the above quotation, you get an idea. I could’ve come up with a similar list of ones that didn’t work for me–but why bother?
If any of the above topics/ideas seem like something you’d enjoy, you’re likely to have fun with over half of this book. When Petri is funny, she’s hilarious. When she’s not…well, there are words on the page that you can definitely read. Her highs are so high and her lows are…still above sea level. I don’t think anything was “bad” here, just some pieces that I really didn’t care for.
I’m glad I read this. You’ll probably be, too. I do recommend this, as long as you go in with open eyes.
funny
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
3.0
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
What’s The Inside Cover Flap of Alexandra Petri’s US History Say?
A witty, absurdist satire of the last 500 years, Alexandra Petri’s US History is the fake textbook you never knew you needed!
As a columnist for the Washington Post, Alexandra Petri has watched in real time as those who didn’t learn from history have been forced to repeat it. And repeat it. And repeat it. If we repeat history one more time, we’re going to fail! Maybe it’s time for a new textbook.
Alexandra Petri’s US History contains a lost (invented!) history of America. (A history for people disappointed that the only president whose weird sex letters we have is Warren G. Harding.) Petri’s “historical fan fiction” draws on real events and completely absurd fabrications to create a laugh-out-loud, irreverent takedown of our nation’s complicated past.
On Petri’s deranged timeline, John and Abigail Adams try sexting, the March sisters from Little Women are sixty feet tall, and Susan Sontag goes to summer camp. Nearly eighty short, hilarious pieces span centuries of American history and culture. Ayn Rand rewrites The Little Engine That Could. Nikola Tesla’s friends stage an intervention when he falls in love with a pigeon. The characters from Sesame Street invade Normandy. And Mark Twain—who famously said reports of his death had been greatly exaggerated—offers a detailed account of his undeath, in which he becomes a zombie.
What did I think about Alexandra Petri’s US History?
There are 76 pieces in this collection–not all are going to be winners. The odds against that are just too great. The tricky thing is (obviously) the ones I consider winners aren’t necessarily going to be the ones that you identify as winners–that’s probably because you have more refined tastes than me. I’m okay with that (and you should be, too). But I assumed that going in, so the question is: are there enough that you’re going to find funny to make reading all of them (or at least starting all of them before occasionally deciding to move on) worth it?
Absolutely.
Some of these start strong and then peter out–like some Saturday Night Live sketches. Some start strong and build from there. Some are duds from the beginning. And a few (to go back to SNL) leave you wanting Matt Foley to yell about the van down by the river one or two more times.
A few of the pieces that had me laughing were:
- the spider in a certain Northhampton church who took umbrage at some of Edwards’ imagery
- a poem about the other guy who rode the night Paul Revere did, but his name is hard to rhyme
- a conversation about writing the song that became the tune for The Star-Spangled Banner
- an abridgment of The Scarlett Letter
- the man who bought his wife yellow wallpaper trying to get a refund
- what would Gatsby have been like if Hemingway wrote it?
- someone from Sun-Made trying to get Lorraine Hansbury to strike up a partnership
- Build-a-Bear’s attempt to commemorate 9/11
I really could’ve gone on there, but I think between that and the above quotation, you get an idea. I could’ve come up with a similar list of ones that didn’t work for me–but why bother?
If any of the above topics/ideas seem like something you’d enjoy, you’re likely to have fun with over half of this book. When Petri is funny, she’s hilarious. When she’s not…well, there are words on the page that you can definitely read. Her highs are so high and her lows are…still above sea level. I don’t think anything was “bad” here, just some pieces that I really didn’t care for.
I’m glad I read this. You’ll probably be, too. I do recommend this, as long as you go in with open eyes.
Such Sharp Teeth by Rachel Harrison
How Was the Narration?
Sieh matched the energy and tone of the book—elevating some of the text with her performance.
So, what did I think about Such Sharp Teeth?
If I took the time to make a pros and cons list…I think the pros would win but by a hair.
The way the book is set up—a high-powered businesswoman from “the City” coming back to her hometown, only to meet with her High School friend who’s been carrying a torch for her since then. Things spark up between them and she’s starting to consider leaving behind all the power and money for this humble guy from a small town. I couldn’t help but think of every single Hallmark Movie parody I’ve seen/read when she talked about “the City.” And most of the storyline surrounding them reminded me of those movies/parodies, too.
The pros, however…Harrison delivers some great werewolf fiction here. The initial bite, the transformations…just about everything that Rory does to investigate her new condition…and more is so well done, and in many ways is superior to every other werewolf novel I’ve read. It’s some really solid and creepy work there, and I wish more of the book lived up to it.
In the end, it was good enough. It kept me engaged, the story moved well, and I can’t say enough about the depiction of lycanthropes. I do recommend Such Sharp Teeth, but with a few caveats.
adventurous
emotional
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- 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.
---
---
What’s Such Sharp Teeth About?
The Publisher’s website says:
Rory Morris isn’t thrilled to be moving back to her hometown, even if it is temporary. There are bad memories there. But her twin sister, Scarlett, is pregnant, estranged from the baby’s father, and needs support, so Rory returns to the place she thought she’d put in her rearview. After a night out at a bar where she runs into Ian, an old almost-flame, she hits a large animal with her car. And when she gets out to investigate, she’s attacked.
Rory survives, miraculously, but life begins to look and feel different. She’s unnaturally strong, with an aversion to silver—and suddenly the moon has her in its thrall. She’s changing into someone else—something else, maybe even a monster. But does that mean she’s putting those close to her in danger? Or is embracing the wildness inside of her the key to acceptance?
This darkly comedic love story is a brilliantly layered portrait of trauma, rage, and vulnerability.
How Was the Narration?
Sieh matched the energy and tone of the book—elevating some of the text with her performance.
So, what did I think about Such Sharp Teeth?
If I took the time to make a pros and cons list…I think the pros would win but by a hair.
The way the book is set up—a high-powered businesswoman from “the City” coming back to her hometown, only to meet with her High School friend who’s been carrying a torch for her since then. Things spark up between them and she’s starting to consider leaving behind all the power and money for this humble guy from a small town. I couldn’t help but think of every single Hallmark Movie parody I’ve seen/read when she talked about “the City.” And most of the storyline surrounding them reminded me of those movies/parodies, too.
The pros, however…Harrison delivers some great werewolf fiction here. The initial bite, the transformations…just about everything that Rory does to investigate her new condition…and more is so well done, and in many ways is superior to every other werewolf novel I’ve read. It’s some really solid and creepy work there, and I wish more of the book lived up to it.
In the end, it was good enough. It kept me engaged, the story moved well, and I can’t say enough about the depiction of lycanthropes. I do recommend Such Sharp Teeth, but with a few caveats.
Miles Morales Suspended: a Spider-Man Novel by Jason Reynolds
adventurous
emotional
hopeful
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
What’s Miles Morales Suspended About?
In the shadow of his victory against The Warden (see Miles Morales for details), Miles finds himself the brunt of his History teacher’s antagonism. Miles is sure it’s a prejudice against him, his skin color, his background, or…any number of other things. There’s a small chance it’s just his teacher being a jerk. It’s probably a combination of the two.
Regardless, Miles stands up for himself—and a few classmates have his back. And they end up serving an in-school suspension for it. The bulk of the novel focuses on that day—the doldrums of serving it, the homework assignments Miles has to try to focus on during the day, and all the ways his mind wanders through the day (his crush sitting in the desk behind him doesn’t help him focus at all).
Little by little, however, Miles becomes aware of a threat to him and others present that day. And eventually, suspension or not, Miles’ alter-ego has to step in and save the day.
The Narration
We have Guy Lockard back from the first book and this time he’s joined by Nile Bullock. I think the former handles the narration and the latter handles the parts of the book from Miles’ POV. Feel free to correct me.
Both of these performers brought this to life—the narration is very in-your-face (as is fitting, also reminiscent of Stan Lee’s voiceovers in various projects), and the characterization of Miles and the rest ring true.
I don’t really have anything to say about the narration other than I would listen to these two (together or apart) narrate an audiobook anytime
So, what did I think about Miles Morales Suspended?
There is very little plot to this (and not just because it’s just shy of 4 hours in length). What’s more, there’s very little Spider-Man action. Both of these are actually good things—at least this time. What we do get is a lot of Miles Morales action, we see the young man behind the mask just trying to survive high school, make connections, and grow up. These are the aspects of the characters that have helped people connect with Peter Parker and Miles since the 60s.
Now, don’t get me wrong—if this had all been Miles serving detention, it’d have been hard to put up with (not necessarily impossible). So I’m glad that Reynolds gave us a fun bit of Spider-Man action at the beginning and a pretty epic fight scene to wrap things up.
But that’s not the heart of the book—nor is it the heart of the character. Reynolds understands what drives Spider-Man (whoever is behind the mask), particularly Miles. Although, I’d like to see him tackle Peter just for fun, too.
Including so much poetry took me aback initially (or, at least when I figured out that’s what he was doing). But it fits Miles, it fits the girl he’s trying to impress, it fits this world, the themes of this particular book…and Reynolds knows what he’s doing in verse (unlike so many fantasy writers that litter their novels with questionable poetry). The same should be said for Lockard and Bullock—they know their way around reading verse so that it hits.
Is this the book I wanted and/or expected about Spider-Man or based on the previous novel by Reynolds? Nope. Do I care? Nope. Because it was fun, inventive, thought-provoking, and true to the character (yeah, a little heavy-handed, too—but that also sort of fits the classic Marvel modus operandi).
Bone Carnival by Megan Lynch
adventurous
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- 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.
---
---
What’s Bone Carnival About?
Mia Wallace’s parents are professors who’ve taken temporary posts at a university in Rome and have brought the twelve-year-old and her older brother, Enzo, with them. Enzo speaks a little Italian and is fairly independent as 17-year-olds tend to be, but Mia has only a small handful of phrases and is as dependent on her parents as a preteen is forced to be, so her options for the time are pretty limited.
Mia has a reputation (largely earned) for being a troublemaker, a teller of tall tales, and overall ne’er-do-well. It doesn’t seem like she’s leaving a lot of friends behind in the States, and she’s not expecting to change that in Rome, no matter how many resolutions she makes about reform. There’s a girl her age, Grace, who might be a candidate for friendship, but they don’t get off to a good start. Still, Grace’s mother is a colleague of Mia’s mother, so they’re likely to end up spending time together.
There’s a stray cat who lives near their apartment that Mia has started to spend time with. On the first day that their parents have to go to work, Mia slips out of the classroom she, Enzo, and Grace are stuck in all day to go get something from a nearby bakery (her excuse is that Grace hasn’t eaten breakfast and her stomach is too loud). On the way to the cafe, Mila sees “her” cat and follows it. Unbeknownst to her, Grace has followed Mia.
The cat leads them to a street carnival—there’s something about it that both unnerves Mia and appeals to her, too (she can’t describe what elicits either reaction). Grace is more unnerved than anything, but can’t get Mia to leave. There are shades of Pleasure Island (from Disney’s version of Pinocchio) to the carnival—but without the anarchy and transformation into a beast of burden. Honestly, I think what Mia’s in for is worse—but you can decide for yourself.
During part of a puppet show (which is probably not what made me think of Pinocchio), Grace volunteers to participate. She’s awarded a bone of a sorcerer to carry around in a velvet pouch. Supposedly, this will bring her good luck for a day—a lifetime’s worth of good luck in a day.
Grace doesn’t like any of this, and Mia’s a little creeped out by the idea of a finger (no matter that it’s surely just a prop). So they throw it in a nearby dumpster.
Before she knows it good things are starting to happen to the pair—and, yup, the pouch is tied around Mia’s neck. What has she gotten the two of them into? And what’s the fine print?
The Worst Parents in the World?
A tricky thing that authors have to address when it comes to kids and adventure novels is how to get the parents out of the way to let the kids have an adventure. Are they dead? Are they away from home/the kid is away from home? Are they missing/kidnapped? Or do the kids sneak off—and then why do they do that and how do the parents not notice? Once that’s dealt with, and how, then the reader can settle in and see what the kid gets up to.
Lynch solves this by giving Mia (and to a lesser extent, Grace) some of the worst parents around, who largely are unaware of what Mia is up to. I’m resisting the impulse to list off all their faults, deficiencies, and sins here—you really need to see them for yourself to draw your own conclusions. I’m typically inclined to see the parent’s/guardian’s perspective and to cut them some slack–I can defend (half-heartedly, I admit) Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, for example. But I’ve got nothing for Mia’s parents. I quickly decided that it wasn’t just Mia’s perspective, either. At a quick glance, half of my notes about this book involve what miserable excuses for parents these two are.
Obviously, parents who abuse, exploit, and/or deprive their children are worse than these parents. Mia, Ezra, and Grace are fed, educated, clothed, and so on. They’re even cared about and for in some manner. But…
The actual trauma they’re inflicting, the emotional abuse they aren’t knowingly inflicting, and the long-term trust issues they’re creating for their children are real, even if they’re unaware they’re doing it (or, worse, unconcerned about it). For the longest time, I’ve considered Betty Draper to be the worst parent I’ve seen in fiction. Mia’s parents (particularly her mother) gives her a run for her money.
So, what did I think about Bone Carnival?
I started off quite unimpressed with Mia and was hoping this book was going to be about her getting her comeuppance and/or growing up. I was more than a little afraid I was going to have to endure 200 pages of an insufferable protagonist’s antics. There is some growing up involved, thankfully, but I think there’s a healthy dose of the reader understanding Mia better, too. It doesn’t take too long (sometime before the carnival, for sure) for the reader to learn more about Mia and she becomes a bit more than just an irritating character. Once the carnival appears—definitely before it disappears, you’ll become invested in her and what happens.
There were several times I thought I saw Lynch heading toward a moral, or a cheesy personal transformation on someone’s part to give everyone a happy ending. She did not do that, thankfully. She dodged both of those things every time it looked likely, and I was relieved and impressed each time. I’m not saying what kind of ending we get, but I do want to assure you that there’s character development and growth—but it’s earned and deserved, and not saccharine in any way. And yes, I do think readers can/should take away life lessons (especially parents in a “don’t be like this” way)—but it’s not what you might expect, and not in a “Here’s a Message for You” kind of way.
It has been years since I’ve been this worried about the stakes in an MG novel—not just the stakes, but the potential life and death (fictional) outcomes for the characters involved. It’s been even longer since an author introduced them as effectively (Riordan and Mull came close—and even killed characters, but I don’t think they made me as apprehensive as Lynch). I could probably point to a few YA books that don’t do it as well as Lynch did. I remember occasionally stumbling across a book that did this when I was this age—John Bellairs for example—but it seems harder to find now*. This is in that neck of the woods.
* Maybe I just need to read better MG books.
This book really spooked me, and was disturbing in all the right ways—the character development was believable (not easy given the short time frame depicted), and I thought the characters as a whole were believable and well-drawn. It might be too much for some MG readers—so parents should exercise discretion*. Although I honestly think it’d be good for some readers to read a book that’s too much for them, it’s a great way to create an appreciation for a certain kind of story.
* Parents should be doing that all of the time, come to think of it.
My main point about Bone Carnival is this: It should be read by many. Maybe even you.
Bea Wolf by Zach Weinersmith
What’s Bea Wolf About?
In some generic town, there is a treehouse that deserves every accolade you can think of. Treehart has been the headquarters of several of those long-ago kids, where they played, had fun, ate too much candy, etc., etc. Treehart has been ruled by a succession of kings and queens who ruled with generosity until they started to sprout things like facial hair and acne and had to set aside the grown and (ugh) start growing up.
They run afoul of one of the local teachers
With just a touch, Grindle can bring about adolescence—or, even worse, adulthood. He started periodically raiding Treehart, begeezering all he could. And then, he’d clean it.
Nearby, a former king’s cousin has heard of the adultening and sent her fiercest warrior, Bea Wolf, to come and restore frivolity and childhood to Treehart by defeating Grindle. Epic tales are shared, a lot of soda and candy are consumed, and then the two face off in a battle that can only be described as “epic.”
A Bit About the Art
In the Acknowledgements, Boulet said that he really didn’t have time to do the art for this book, but after reading part of the script, he knew he had to. I’m so glad he found—probably made—the time for it. This wouldn’t be nearly as successful without his art.
It’s playful and silly while not turning the whole thing into a joke. There’s pathos, there’s gravity, there’s danger in his drawings. And yet they’re attractive, winsome, and engaging, too. His art is everything the text is and more—yes, I think the book would’ve worked had it only been the text. But…he brings it to life in a way that words alone can’t.
Boulet and Weinersmith are a potent and nigh-perfect match here. I cannot say enough good about this art.
On The Publisher’s page for the book, there’s a link to “Take a Look Inside!” I’d heartily recommend you giving that a glance so you can get a flavor of the look of the book.
About Beowulf
After the tale (at least the first part of the tale) of Bea Wolf, Weinersmith spends a few times talking about what Beowulf is, its history, and the connection between this graphic novel and the source. It even talks about various translations to help a young reader pick one to try.
It’s written in a way that definitely appeals to crusty old guys like me and very likely will appeal to younger readers, too. I’m not kidding, I’ve re-read it just for the jokes.
This essay ends by applying it to the reader:
I don’t know if this will inspire a future writer or not, but it worked for me.
(yeah, I strayed from my own topic there, but whatever…)
So, what did I think about Bea Wolf?
I had so much fun reading this, from beginning to end. I was able to appreciate it on a few levels—as someone who appreciates cute and clever comic art, cute and clever comic writing, as a cute and comic take on the epic poem, and as a wonderful and romantic vision of childhood (and a vision of adulthood that hits pretty close to home a little too often). There are probably more levels I enjoyed it on, but that’ll work for a starter.
The poetry itself was dynamite. Weinersmith did a fantastic job of capturing the flavor and spirit of the original and adapting it to a Middle-Grade level (while keeping it engaging for older readers).
I honestly don’t know who the market is for this—sure, it’s supposed to be for Children—but I wonder how many will be intrigued by the idea of it (hopefully, they will be prompted by clever adults/peers). On the other hand, I can’t be the only fan of the original from High School/College/after those who finds the notion of this appealing. Thankfully, I do think both audiences will be pleased with the results and the time they spent with it.
There’s at least one more book chronicling Bea’s adventures. I cannot wait to see her deal with Grindle’s mother.
I don’t know if I’m doing a decent job of praising this—but I think you get the gist. Do yourself, your inner child, and possibly your children a favor and run out to pick this up. You’ll be glad you did.
adventurous
funny
hopeful
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.5
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
---
Hey, wait!
Listen to the lives of the long-ago kids, the world-fighters,
the parent-unminding kids, the improper, the politeness-proof,
the unbowed bully-crushers,
the bedtime-breakers, the raspberry-blowers,
fighters of fun-killers, fearing nothing, fated for fame.
What’s Bea Wolf About?
In some generic town, there is a treehouse that deserves every accolade you can think of. Treehart has been the headquarters of several of those long-ago kids, where they played, had fun, ate too much candy, etc., etc. Treehart has been ruled by a succession of kings and queens who ruled with generosity until they started to sprout things like facial hair and acne and had to set aside the grown and (ugh) start growing up.
They run afoul of one of the local teachers
Mr. Grindle he was called, for his father was Mr. Grindle
and his mother was Mrs. Grindle, and that is how names work.
With just a touch, Grindle can bring about adolescence—or, even worse, adulthood. He started periodically raiding Treehart, begeezering all he could. And then, he’d clean it.
Ten kids turned teenaged, tired-eyed, ever-texting
eight turned middle-aged, aching, anxious, angry at the Internet.
Nearby, a former king’s cousin has heard of the adultening and sent her fiercest warrior, Bea Wolf, to come and restore frivolity and childhood to Treehart by defeating Grindle. Epic tales are shared, a lot of soda and candy are consumed, and then the two face off in a battle that can only be described as “epic.”
A Bit About the Art
In the Acknowledgements, Boulet said that he really didn’t have time to do the art for this book, but after reading part of the script, he knew he had to. I’m so glad he found—probably made—the time for it. This wouldn’t be nearly as successful without his art.
It’s playful and silly while not turning the whole thing into a joke. There’s pathos, there’s gravity, there’s danger in his drawings. And yet they’re attractive, winsome, and engaging, too. His art is everything the text is and more—yes, I think the book would’ve worked had it only been the text. But…he brings it to life in a way that words alone can’t.
Boulet and Weinersmith are a potent and nigh-perfect match here. I cannot say enough good about this art.
On The Publisher’s page for the book, there’s a link to “Take a Look Inside!” I’d heartily recommend you giving that a glance so you can get a flavor of the look of the book.
About Beowulf
After the tale (at least the first part of the tale) of Bea Wolf, Weinersmith spends a few times talking about what Beowulf is, its history, and the connection between this graphic novel and the source. It even talks about various translations to help a young reader pick one to try.
It’s written in a way that definitely appeals to crusty old guys like me and very likely will appeal to younger readers, too. I’m not kidding, I’ve re-read it just for the jokes.
This essay ends by applying it to the reader:
If you’ve made it this far, all the way to the end of my notes, reading all these words in a book that’s mostly pictures, you must be either a librarian or a future writer. Or maybe both. If you haven’t read the original Beowulf, you may be asking whether you should give it a shot. The answer is yes. It’s scary and it’s not for kids, so you’ll probably really like it. If you’re a speaker of English, it’s the oldest big poem in something resembling your language, and it just happens to be one of the greatest stories ever written.At one point, late in the original Beowulf poem, a dragon grows angry because a man steals from his golden hoard. Beowulf is part of the golden hoard of our language. Tolkien stole from it for his stories, and you should too. You might summon up a dragon of your own.
I don’t know if this will inspire a future writer or not, but it worked for me.
(yeah, I strayed from my own topic there, but whatever…)
So, what did I think about Bea Wolf?
I had so much fun reading this, from beginning to end. I was able to appreciate it on a few levels—as someone who appreciates cute and clever comic art, cute and clever comic writing, as a cute and comic take on the epic poem, and as a wonderful and romantic vision of childhood (and a vision of adulthood that hits pretty close to home a little too often). There are probably more levels I enjoyed it on, but that’ll work for a starter.
The poetry itself was dynamite. Weinersmith did a fantastic job of capturing the flavor and spirit of the original and adapting it to a Middle-Grade level (while keeping it engaging for older readers).
I honestly don’t know who the market is for this—sure, it’s supposed to be for Children—but I wonder how many will be intrigued by the idea of it (hopefully, they will be prompted by clever adults/peers). On the other hand, I can’t be the only fan of the original from High School/College/after those who finds the notion of this appealing. Thankfully, I do think both audiences will be pleased with the results and the time they spent with it.
There’s at least one more book chronicling Bea’s adventures. I cannot wait to see her deal with Grindle’s mother.
I don’t know if I’m doing a decent job of praising this—but I think you get the gist. Do yourself, your inner child, and possibly your children a favor and run out to pick this up. You’ll be glad you did.