First things first: The Friday Society is a turn-of-the-century almost-steampunk (I’ll get to the ‘almost’ part later) that is exciting, funny and has...moreFirst things first: The Friday Society is a turn-of-the-century almost-steampunk (I’ll get to the ‘almost’ part later) that is exciting, funny and has a large number of unique, interesting characters. The idea of three intelligent young girls teaming up to solve crimes may have been used and abused far too many times, but the Victorian setting meant a new context that could have provided the necessary freshness. Unfortunately, it made things much worse instead.
Cora, Nellie and Michiko don’t have much in common, except that they’re all intelligent and very competent. Cora is an assistant to Lord White, a politician and an inventor. She’s interested in science and spends most of her time keeping his Lordship away from the opium dens. Nellie is the gorgeous assistant of Great Raheem, an accomplished and well-respected magician. She is very girly, but also very athletically gifted. Michiko came from Japan to work with a British self-defense instructor, wanting to escape from the parents that wanted to marry her off and her samurai teacher who refused to present her with a katana. She doesn’t speak much English and she’s constantly yelled at and beaten by her employer.
What turned The Friday Society from a fun fluffy read to a complete disaster was Kress’ carelessness or nonchalance towards the language. I am baffled by her constant use of modern colloquialisms in this book. I was ready to disregard the far too modern worldview of her heroines, the (unbelievably) liberal and progressive society, but language use is where I draw the line. I don’t think that ‘smokin’ hot’ was used to describe an attractive individual over a hundred years ago, and somehow I doubt that the word ‘awesome’ was used in every other sentence either. Aside from the steam-powered gadgets, steampunk should attempt to recreate an era, and that is largely done through language. Authors should either know how to do this, or not write steampunk at all.
It is a shame that Adrienne Kress didn’t do a better job with era- appropriate language. I was almost ready to forgive some of it, but then a character would say something so obviously from the 21st century, and it would make my blood boil.
I wasn’t entirely unhappy with the abovementioned steam-powered gadgets. Cora is an inventor after all, and she had a few (very entertaining) aces up her sleeve. There were dirigibles, steam cabs, night vision goggles and other interesting things, and while they weren’t exactly described in detail, they at least worked well with the plot.
In this case, my two-star rating doesn’t mean anything other than ‘I had no idea how to rate this book’. There were things I truly enjoyed, humor and characters most of all, but in the end, even that wasn’t enough. Gail Carriger may not be much of a plotter, but no one can object to her language use or her ability to re-create the atmosphere of the Victorian era. Adrienne Kress, on the other hand, should write books in which characters can like, say ‘like’ as many times as they want.
As a steampunk reader, I can be nitpicky and entirely too difficult to please and I know it. However, I don’t think I’m being unreasonable when I say...moreAs a steampunk reader, I can be nitpicky and entirely too difficult to please and I know it. However, I don’t think I’m being unreasonable when I say that Legacy of the Clockwork Key fell short of what I had expected. For starters, it read more like Middle Grade than Young Adult and was, in many ways, far too naïve and oversimplified for my liking. In truth, I’m not sure it can even be classified as steampunk; it certainly started as one, and the author approached it very ambitiously, but the execution was lacking and the end result was a Middle Grade-ish book with lots of metal in it.
In Legacy of the Clockwork Key, Meg and her small group of new acquaintances, embark on a quest to find and destroy a dangerous device created by a secret society Meg’s family was involved with. To find the location of this device, they must find and unlock clue after clue using a creative master key Meg’s grandfather left her.
I was quite enjoying this story until things turned serious between Meg and Will. It was their relationship – Meg’s constant doubts and insecurities, Will’s inconsistent behavior and lack of any real spark between them – that really turned me off. I understood why Meg would be attracted to Will, even with all his brooding and silent treatments. His attraction for her, however, made little sense as he was right to accuse her of selfishness and pigheadedness.
I was hardly one to command the attention of a man, especially sitting next to the gilded beauty Lucinda possessed. Will couldn’t possibly fancy me, so why did he watch me so intently? I’ll admit, I had noticed he was handsome when I first met him. At the time, it might have only been my shock at seeing someone my own age.
But as difficult as the characters were, I had even more trouble with the inventions. Although there were many (I get grumpy when there isn’t enough machinery in my steampunk), and although the inventory was quite impressive (automatons, a metal Stonehenge that sprouted from the ground, a huge metal maze and a metal leviathan, to name a few), it was never explained how any of them actually worked. That, in my opinion, is simply not steampunk. And some of the minor inventions were just random modern things like night vision and infra red goggles. Those were only unusual because of the historical setting, and what’s worse, I can’t imagine they could possibly be steam powered… not that actual steam was ever mentioned.
In the end, I think it’s fair to conclude that Legacy of the Clockwork Key simply lacked steam, both between the characters and in their many inventions. It’s a good book for a younger audience; I’d probably have enjoyed it when I was twelve or thirteen, but as an older reader, I found it to be mediocre and entirely forgettable.
2.5 stars, rounded up because I'm feeling particularly generous today.
Before any of you start plotting my painful and untimely death, I should point...more2.5 stars, rounded up because I'm feeling particularly generous today.
Before any of you start plotting my painful and untimely death, I should point out that I’m a big fan of Ms. Carriger’s previous work. The Parasol Protectorate series is a favorite of mine, despite losing some steam in the later installments. However, I don’t think Etiquette and Espionage was up to her usual standards, and it makes me very sad that I didn’t enjoy it as much as I’d hoped I would. It took me a while to put my thoughts in order and figure out exactly what went wrong, at least for me, and even now I can only explain a part of it. In Parasol Protectorate, Carriger’s trademark sense of humor was what made the series stand out, but there was also some substance underneath, and the plots kept me engaged and interested. Etiquette and Espionage had neither, I’m afraid.
“But I have advanced eyelash fluttering to practice, and a mathematics problem concerning how to order strychnine and a lamb dinner on a limited budget, and three chapters on court etiquette to read, and my handkerchief to starch, and the quadrille to memorize!” “No one said learning etiquette and espionage would be easy, my dear.”
And it wasn’t easy, my dears. Not for our main character, Miss Sophronia Angelina Temminnick, and certainly not for me. What started out as entertaining, promising read, ended up almost suffocating me with repetitiveness and lack of an actual plot. A good sense of humor is not a band aid you can just slap over a pile of problems and hope your readers forget they’re there. It has been tried before, and as far as I’m concerned, it never, ever worked.
As a fan, I loved revisiting Alexia’s universe, but at the same time, seeing it reused left me with the impression that Gail Carriger took the lazy way out. This is the part I’m most conflicted about, but it’s also one I would have been glad to overlook had the rest been interesting enough. But in the end, the most interesting parts were those links to the Parasol Protectorate series.
It wasn’t just the world that was the same, some of the characters showed up too, albeit as much younger versions of themselves. Of all the crossover characters, I enjoyed meeting a nine-year-old Genevieve Lefoux the most and was delighted to learn that she preferred boys’ clothes even as a little girl.
There is no romance in Etiquette & Espionage, just hints of one that could develop uite beautifully in the future. While I adored the no-romance part itself, in combination with a very weak plot, it gave a pretty empty book.
It’s obvious by now that I’m the odd one out in this case, so please take my opinion with a grain of salt and make sure to read at least a few more reviews before making a decision. It’s all a matter of personal taste, after all. I’m prepared to give this series another chance because I adore Carriger’s sense of humor. Hopefully the next book will have a more exciting plot.
A Conspiracy of Alchemists is a surprisingly fun debut, a wonderful blend of steampunk, urban fantasy and paranormal romance. It’s perfect for fans of...moreA Conspiracy of Alchemists is a surprisingly fun debut, a wonderful blend of steampunk, urban fantasy and paranormal romance. It’s perfect for fans of Meljean Brook’s Iron Seas series. The worldbuilding may be slightly inferior in comparison, but that’s only because Meljean Brook is the untouchable queen of the genre. Leisel Schwartz did not disappoint with her fabulously imaginative world full of alchemists, Nightwalkers, absint fairies and warlocks. The steampunk elements were great (gyrocopters!) and the plot was highly entertaining, if a tiny bit predictable.
The romance, however, fell a bit flat. You know when you watch So You Think You Can Dance and a couple dances with technical precision, but the judges say there’s not enough chemistry between them? That’s exactly how this was: Elle and Marsh made all the right moves, but there wasn’t any spark there. I never felt the rush of expectation when they were left alone, and even though theirs wasn’t an instalove, it still wasn’t believable enough for me.
Elle was a great heroine, one I could easily admire. She refused to be limited by her gender and preferred flying airships to husband-hunting. The secondary characters were fabulously developed and I can’t wait to see more of them in the second installment, The Clockwork Heart. A Conspiracy of Alchemists has a very clean ending and it could easily have been a standalone, but I was very excited when the second book was announced.
I can’t promise you’ll remember all the details a month after you finish this book, but I can promise you’ll have a great time reading it.
Is there anything a mother wouldn’t do to save her son? Even if they are mostly estranged and angry at each other? Would she willingly walk into a pla...moreIs there anything a mother wouldn’t do to save her son? Even if they are mostly estranged and angry at each other? Would she willingly walk into a place where the air is poisonous and hundreds of zombies roam about?
Of course she would. I would, too.
That’s the choice Briar is forced to make, and it really isn’t a choice at all. Sixteen years ago, Seattle was destroyed by one of her late husband’s inventions, and she became an outcast, a poor, single mother with no one to rely on. From that point on, Briar and her son were lucky when they could cross the street without someone spitting on them for something neither of them played any part in. Briar’s son Zeke is only sixteen and he’s desperate to clear his father’s name, not knowing that his father really is guilty of turning Seattle into a poisonous prison. And there is no doubt in Briar’s mind, her late husband poisoned the air, flattened the city and created rotters, the zombies. But every boy wants his father to be perfect, so Zeke runs away from home to go to Seattle and prove his father’s innocence.
As much as I enjoyed the (too few) steampunk elements in Boneshaker, what I found most intriguing was the complexity of Briar’s relationship with her teenage son Zeke. I normally dislike situations that stem from lack of communication between characters, but in Boneshaker, their reasons for not sharing secrets with each other were so painful and real that I couldn’t blame Cherie Priest for deciding to write it exactly like that. It is what made these characters truly alive, as if they didn’t exist until they were around each other or thinking about each other. Despite the alternate history setting and all those fantastic inventions, despite the zombies and everything else that was exciting, Briar and Zeke were what really kept me on the edge of my seat. When it comes to character bulding, Cherie Priest is the best psychologist I’ve come across since Ann Aguirre, which is saying something, my friends.
But it appears that everything good comes at a price, and excellent characterization was very pricey indeed. In terms of steampunk, Boneshaker leaves a lot to be desired. I realize I’m very nitpicky when it comes to this sub-genre, but if authors won’t use the endless possibilities it provides, I see no point in writing it at all. The steampunk bits did not blow me away like they did in Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences, and I expected more from Priest language-wise, to be honest. Still, keep in mind that Boneshaker won the 2010 Locus Award for Science-Fiction, so this is probably just me being unreasonable and difficult. I get like that sometimes, just ask my siblings. :)
Although Boneshaker didn’t leave me completely satisfied, I am intrigued and eager to read the next book in this series.
And so my steampunk marathon continues. Surprisingly enough, I liked this companion novella more than I liked the book itself. But both are pretty awe...moreAnd so my steampunk marathon continues. Surprisingly enough, I liked this companion novella more than I liked the book itself. But both are pretty awesome. (less)
4.5 stars Hmm, let's see: steampunk noir, fantastic worldbuilding, characters I fell in love with almost instantly, crime scenes worthy of Patricia Cor...more4.5 stars Hmm, let's see: steampunk noir, fantastic worldbuilding, characters I fell in love with almost instantly, crime scenes worthy of Patricia Cornwell, clockwork, LOTS of sexual tension and a heart-stopping conclusion. All in a single book, my friends.
Centuries ago in a land called Hy Breasil, native Ferishers and strayed humans saw marriage as a way to stop the war between their two races. Sons and daughters of the two great Courts married the conquerors in an attempt to save themselves from annihilation. Today, very little Fey blood remains and the gifts it offers are often both unwelcome and dangerous.
In the great city of Dorstaad, two Criminal Investigation Division inspectors, Celeste Ritsuko and Janus Mikani, do excellent work despite the hostility they occasionally face. They are each other’s exact opposites: she, measured, well organized and precise, excellent at drawing conclusions from evidence she pedantically collects; and he, a charmer who mostly runs on intuition and solves cases using gifts his Fey blood provides.
Ritsuko and Mikani begin as co-workers and friends and they remain friends. It is a wonderful thing they have, a purely platonic relationship built on trust and mutual understanding. There is attraction of course, but neither of them is willing to risk what they already have for something that may or may not work… probably not, considering Mikani’s track record. Neither of them admits, even to themselves, that they might be moving towards something more, a different kind of relationship, no longer safe, but risky and exciting at the same time. Theirs is a subtle, tentative dance, a slow-burning romance at its finest and one that will leave you desperate to know if and when they’ll take the plunge.
(You WILL be jumping up and down in your seat, chanting “Do it! Do it! Go for it! Kiss her, you moron! Kiss her!”)
Their characterization is superb. I find that I often use the words ‘astonishingly good’ to describe Aguirre’s work, but I can’t help it when they always apply. Bronze Gods and its characters didn’t sprout over night, they’re the result of a decade-long work, which is obvious on every page. I’ve read my fair share of crime novels and seen enough crime shows that I’m not easily impressed. I think we are all desensitized as readers and viewers, and yet these crime scenes gave me the chills. Each included a different mysterious, inexplicable device, the purpose of which was entirely unclear to Ritsuko and Mikani.
I am, as I’m sure you all know, a bit demanding when it comes to steampunk. I want well-defined worlds, age-appropriate language and at least a few creative gadgets. Ann and Andres Aguirre gave me all that and more. I need book 2 more than I need air... or bread.... or...well, maybe not blueberry muffins. But close.
I rest my case.
At The Nocturnal Library: Ann Aguirre talks about writing this book with her husband.
3.5 stars Oh, I should have listened to this entire series on audio! It’s a completely different experience. With her great accents and excellent chara...more3.5 stars Oh, I should have listened to this entire series on audio! It’s a completely different experience. With her great accents and excellent characterization, Emily Gray breathed life into a series that very much needed it in its last installment. She’s done such an amazing job that I’ll purposely seek out other audiobooks narrated by her, regardless of the genre, and enjoy them while driving to work and back. Of all the narrators I’ve come across so far, she and Holter Graham are by far my favorites.
Unfortunately, Gail Carriger doesn’t deserve such praise. Timeless is essentially plotless, and what little excitement there is pales in comparison to previous books. Everything I used to love about this series is gone – even the humor isn’t what it used to be. The Parasol Protectorate simply lost its charm. It’s a good thing Carriger decided to end the series when she did – this is where we would have parted ways anyway. By making Timeless the last book, she allowed me to say my goodbyes with a smile and a little bit of nostalgia, instead of the bitter taste so many authors left me with.
Timeless picks up two years after the end of Heartless. Alexia’s daughter Prudence is an extraordinary child and she’s keeping her biological parents and her adoptive father, Lord Akeldama, very busy indeed. She’s even managed to attract the attention of Queen Matakara, vampire Queen of the Alexandria Hive, the oldest supernatural in the world. Alexia, Prudence and their numerous entourage travel to Egypt to indulge Matakara, and hopefully, to uncover Alessandro Tarabotti’s plans for the supernaturals. Meanwhile, Biffy and Professor Lyall investigate the murder of a Beta, but they somehow spend more time flirting with each other than actually investigating. The budding romance between these two was my favorite part of this book. I loved seeing a different side of Lyall – the reserved professor is surprisingly passionate under the surface, much to my (and Biffy’s) delight.
I never gossip. I observe. And then relay my observations to practically everyone.
After many adventures and several misunderstandings, the relationship between Lord and Lady Maccon is finally steady and calm, but never boring! After all, neither of them is very conventional and Lady Maccon becomes rather restless if she isn’t involved in at least three different conspiracies and secret societies at any given time. But the tenderness she shows her darling husband, and his complete and utter adoration for her turned this book into a satisfying conclusion, despite its many flaws.
You know I have to mention some of those flaws, right? I’ll try to make it quick, like pulling off a band aid. The most important thing is that I wanted more! Many questions were left unanswered and I’m still unclear on quite a few things. The humor… oh, the humor! I used to adore Lord Akeldama and his many fashion experiments, but he, too, became tiresome after a while. Much like the series, he just lost his shine.
In the end, I will go back to the beginning: if you’re considering reading this book, do yourselves a favor and get it on audio. Emily Gray made everything so much more interesting. As for the rest, this is one of those times when saying goodbye isn’t hard. I’m sure Gail Carriger has a lot more to offer, but in a different series and with a new set of characters.
4.5 stars When I first felt myself being pulled into this story, I glanced down and saw the number 156 written at the bottom of the page. 156 pages of...more4.5 stars When I first felt myself being pulled into this story, I glanced down and saw the number 156 written at the bottom of the page. 156 pages of barely understandable, agonizingly slow and almost painfully dense prose - that’s what it took for me to start enjoying Stormdancer. But here’s the thing: now that I fully understand this book, I understand the necessity of such a beginning. This is how the rain becomes a flood. One drop at a time.
There’s something mesmerizing and magical about a world well-built, and Kristoff’s is more detailed than most. As hard as it is to understand it at first, once you become a part of it, it is unlikely to ever let you go. It is a grim, filthy world, poisoned by blood lotus, a plant that kills the land it grows from and is used for everything from fuel to drugs. It is a world of stark contrasts – excessive wealth and excessive poverty, mythical creatures and technology. Not much in it can be described as beautiful, and yet, the beauty of it in its entirety is undeniable. It is reminiscent of the most intricate filigree work. Even if it doesn’t appeal to your personal taste, you must appreciate the skill that was necessary to create it.
And yet, in many ways, this stunning, complex world quickly becomes overshadowed by the characters. Each of them was created just like the world was – slowly, with much attention to details, in a million layers, some more important than others. Yukiko herself cannot be reduced to a one-sentence description, but what truly surprises me is that none of the characters can either. They are all so many things at once, their histories interconnected, their stories all somehow related. Hatred doesn’t sprout from nothing in Kristoff’s world. Everything has an explanation, everyone carries some trauma and hurt, and every single character has hidden motives.
Among them, the thunder tiger stands out as the most fascinating by far. I must confess I’d never given much thought to mythological creatures such as griffins, but seeing Buruu through Kristoff’s eyes made me realize how blind I’d been. He is truly a magnificent creature, powerful and fiercely intelligent, yet tender and caring toward Yukiko, his Stormdancer. The telepathic connection they share is one of the most interesting things I’ve ever read about. Spending time in each other’s minds changes them both ever so subtly. The arashitora’s understanding of the human world increases, and she becomes slightly more explosive in nature. They call each other brother and sister because that’s what they truly are, and that’s how protective they are of each other.
The hindquarters of a white tiger, rippling muscle bound tight beneath the snow-white fur, slashed with thick bands of ebony. The broad wings, forelegs and head of a white eagle, proud and fierce; lightning reflected in amber irises and pupils of darkest black. It roared again, shaking the ship, cutting through the air like a katana in a swordsaint’s hands.
All good things come at a price and with Stormdancer, that price is your patience. Understanding the initial chapters or even caring about the characters won’t be easy at first, but if you persist, you will be heavily rewarded.
It’s been a year since Agent Eliza Braun was pulled from the field due to insubordination (temper, temper, Miss Braun!) and sentenced to work in the a...moreIt’s been a year since Agent Eliza Braun was pulled from the field due to insubordination (temper, temper, Miss Braun!) and sentenced to work in the archives with Mr. Wellington Thornhill Books, the archivist. Nothing remotely exciting has happened since their very first case together, the one involving a secret society, and Miss Braun is starting to become restless. She needn’t worry, though, since trouble is attracted to her just as Eliza is attracted to trouble, and before you know it, our dashing archivist and our colonial pepperpot find themselves entangled in a complicated case involving missing suffragists, teleportation, ghosts from the past and quite a few explosions. Of course, Eliza and Welly aren’t supposed to be working outside the archives at all, but the field agent assigned to the case has been neglecting his duties in the worst possible way and meanwhile, women from the movement are still disappearing.
Unlike the first installment, The Janus Affair was harder to get into. The beginning was pretty slow compared to the explosive opening scene of Phoenix Rising. I struggled with the first 80 pages for five days straight, giving up and then forcing myself to restart, only to give up again after 10 pages or so. But when things finally started moving, when Eliza and Welly reminded me just how extraordinarily witty (and dysfunctional) they are, I wanted to kick myself for waiting so long to push through the beginning.
I should have remembered how wonderful these two characters are when they interact, how amusing when they snap at each other and, despite all their bickering, how protective they become when a third party goes after one of them. ”Your faith in my abilities does inspire me as would Helen’s visage,” snipped Wellington. “Helen had a thousand ships covering her backside, mate.” Eliza shrugged, motioning to him. “I have an Archivist who’s afraid of guns. You figure out who has the better deal.”
There is more of everything in The Janus Affair: more action, more humor, more inventions, more peculiar occurrences, more witty banter and (ahem!) more unresolved sexual tension. My poor Books is too nerdy and shy to admit to himself, let alone to Eliza, how he really feels, but the arrival of Eliza’s old flame from New Zealand might just push him over the edge. Everyone has secrets, right? Even our gentle archivist has a surprise or two in store.
This, my darlings, is steampunk at its best! I’m not exactly an expert on the genre, but I do recognize quality when I see it, and spouses Pip Ballantine and Tee Morris delivered quality work not once, but two times. From the language (especially language!) and society to the intriguing inventions, even the smallest detail is in its place. If you intend to read one steampunk in your life, this is what you should choose. Ballantine and Morris know what they’re doing.
This summer has been full sequels that outshined their predecessors. Dearly, Beloved is one of them. Not only is it funnier, better thought-out and be...moreThis summer has been full sequels that outshined their predecessors. Dearly, Beloved is one of them. Not only is it funnier, better thought-out and better written than Dearly, Departed, it also affected me more strongly. The plot is well-planned and well-executed and it finally gave this series a much needed direction it lacked in the first book.
Strangely enough, I originally gave Dearly, Beloved three starts, but, upon further consideration, I decided it deserved more. Lia Habel has enormous talent for worldbuilding, and she is quite good at creating vivid imagery and leaving a strong impression on her readers. The secondary and even tertiary characters she introduced aren’t lacking in detail or in color – from the zombie girl who grows flowers in her rotting body to our dear, headless doctor Samedi, they are all both interesting and entirely unforgettable. As for the main characters, they all changed significantly, some for the better, and some (like Pamma) not. Once again, Habel doesn’t shy away from gory details. Some of the descriptions in Dearly, Beloved are utterly disgusting (and infinitely thrilling, of course). It is through blood and rotten body parts that she breathed life into her world and made it stand apart.
The only thing I can’t seem to get used to is the number of perspectives. There are even more this time: Nora and Bram of course, Pamela, but also Michael, Vespertine, Coalhouse and a newly introduced character, Laura (the zombie flower girl). All of them undoubtedly contributed something significant and as hard as I try, I honestly can’t come up with another way to tell the same story, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t feel disjointed at times.
Romance, however, is what really brought me to my knees. I expected it to be lovely after Dearly, Departed, but I didn’t expect such sweetness and maturity. Nora and Bram face everything together, they understand each other perfectly. Nothing can keep these two apart, they love each other as openly and honestly as they can, aware that time is quickly running out for Bram. And yet, even with time in mind, they (mostly) uphold the rules of propriety, they are both bold and respectful at the same time and this balance they constantly maintain is quite beautiful.
I wasn’t the biggest fan of Dearly, Departed, but everything changed with this book. I can’t wait to read more.
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