Adrian Collins's Blog, page 129

REVIEW: The Book of Gothel by Mary McMyne

The Book of Gothel by Mary McMyne is a compulsively readable historical fantasy inspired by the fairy tale of Rapunzel. Set in the Holy Roman Empire in the twelfth century, this tells the story of Haelwise, daughter of Hedda, and how she became the evil witch of stories manifold, taking baby Rapunzel from her mother and imprisoning her in the tower of Gothel. While a fantasy novel, The Book of Gothel is grounded in history, and contains recognisable characters, namely Emperor Frederick and Hildegard von Bingen. As someone who spent years studying the high medieval period, this made my heart sing, having a book rooted in the period and showing such care in regards to research – while clearly not a historical text, it captured the spirit of the era well.

I really enjoyed reading this story from the perspective of the villain – Haelwise is aware of her perceived role, and it is not wholly unjustified in all aspects. She is selfish at times, which makes a woman stand out in the society of the time, she is determined and ferociously stubborn. She has no qualms to lie when needed to protect those she cares about or to reach her own goals. But, this witch of Gothel is not evil. She is a complex figure, a complicated woman. She is doing her best, and that makes her interesting.

It is a story with a clear villain, but also many minor villains. Most characters are somewhere on the morally gray spectrum, and Mary McMyne does well in showing how personal aims drive their actions. I really enjoyed how the book went into tropes of storytelling, of perspective, of how tales change through the telling. History is famously written by the victors, but I’d like to propose a more nuanced take. History is written for a purpose, history is a tool wielded with surgical precision, whether by victors or those who have something to lose. This is true of chronicles as it is for stories within stories such as this one.

As a whole, I absolutely loved The Book of Gothel. It combines everything I tend to love about stories in a breathtaking manner and is very hard to put down. It is a feminist take on an old fairy tale trope, it is a historical fantasy and it has wonderfully murky morals. While there are romantic elements to the story, those are not at the forefront and Haelwise’s character development is centred. It is a book I highly recommend and I see myself coming back to again and again.

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REVIEW: The Rush #6 By Simon Spurrier and Nathan Gooden

Obsession. We all have some familiarity with it. We’ve all experienced it. We all know what it is to have a death grip on a thing, for it to consume our thoughts. It can be overwhelming, pervasive, all-consuming. In The Rush, or, This Hungry Earth Reddens Under Snowclad Hills, obsession is the driving force of the story. Within its pages, from the first issue—which seems so far away ago now—to the cathartic, explosive finale, we see how far people will go in the name of their obsessions.

Gold. Power. Love. Revenge. Family. Obsession is the root, the heart of The Rush, the axis around which everything spins and whirls in a vibrant, violent dance. It’s been a glorious, gory adventure, one which I’m frankly sad to see end and part with—but it ends well. And that’s an accomplishment. Not many stories can stick the landing, live up to their own hype, but The Rush manages it in spades. In the final chapter our heroine Nettie sees even more horror, sees even more depravity, tastes even more of the brittle, blistering madness that so many others in the northern wastes had succumbed to. Nettie, though, is a woman made of iron. At the end of things, as the pages of The Rush wind down, she faces her tribulations and clenches the hand fate has dealt her in a deathgrip. Monsters and madmen will not detract her from her vengeance, will not dissuade her from the vindication of her obsession. A mother’s obsession. It’s remarkable. It sings. In the sixth and final issue, The Rush is, quite frankly, brilliant.

The whole team behind the book should be commended in their accomplishment. From Simon Spurrier, weaving together the glittering, blood-soaked tale of The Rush, proving yet again that he’s a force to be reckoned with in the pantheon of comic writers. To the outrageously talented Nathan Gooden lushly illustrating every page, conducting every scene, making every face and action flow. And Addison Duke’s colors. Textures. So vibrant, so inspired. Delving sometimes into the feverish and hallucinatory, combining with Gooden’s art to create a gorgeous sensory experience. And, of course, hats off to Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou for the classy, creative, lovely lettering. It’s rare that a team combines so effectively to create something so amazing.

What more can I say that I haven’t already said? I’m sad to see The Rush end. It’s been one of my favorite things coming out on the stands now for months. Something I look forward to, and now it’s over. But I’m glad, thankful even, for having experienced it, and I cannot wait to see what the talents who created it go on to do next. Five stars? All the stars.

Read The Rush #6 By Simon Spurrier and Nathan Gooden

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REVIEW: Screams from the Dark edited by Ellen Datlow

In Screams from the Dark, Ellen Datlow brings together twenty-nine of today’s boldest voices in horror to create an unflinching symphony of darkness that will haunt you long after you close the back cover. These all-original tales include stories by such established luminaries as National Book Award winner Joyce Carol Oates and two-time World Fantasy Award winner Caitlín R. Kiernan, as well as a phalanx of rising superstars in horror from across the globe.

The short stories of Screams from the Dark are populated by monsters in all their twisted forms. Datlow begins Screams from the Dark with an enlightening introduction on the complicated etymology of the word “monster.” Originally interpreted as a warning for humanity about the omnipotence of God, the concept of a monster has evolved to embody anything that is grotesquely inhuman, bent on destruction and evil. Monsters are often portrayed as physically hideous or psychologically terrifying, a distorted version of ourselves. Physical manifestations of the monstrous embody the opposite of the humane, but also reveal our inner evil, helping us to understand the nature of humanity itself.

Screams from the Dark features all the standard monsters of horror literature, including vampires, skeletons, ghosts, witches, giants, sea monsters, werewolves, Bigfoot, and the requisite Cthulhu-inspired tentacle monster, here terrorizing an amusement park in “The Midway” by Fran Wide. There is also a fresh take on the Tasmanian devil, courtesy of Glen Hirshberg’s excellent story, “Devil.” More outlandish monsters appear in “The Virgin Jimmy Peck” by Daryl Gregory, where a cultist has been surgically implanted with a monster baby, and in “Sweet Potato” by Joe R. Lansdale, where a vegetable-scented succubus visits a lonely retired man who takes his newfound gardening hobby a bit too seriously.

Beyond the classic villains of horror, Screams from the Dark addresses monstrosities arising from ecological disaster in “Strandling” by Caitlín R. Kiernan and in “The Smell of Waiting” by Kaaron Warren. In a nod to current events, the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic is addressed in “Wet Red Grin” by Gemma Files, which details nursing home patients subjected to reddening of the bones, and “The Atrocity Exhibitionists” by Brian Hodge, centering on a rock star seeking pandemic-era social media fame through extreme self-harm.

My favorite story in this collection is “Crick Crack Rattle Tap” by A.C. Wise, which features a young single mother battling postpartum depression. She oscillates between wanting to be a good mother and feeling resentment toward her infant baby. The mother recites an improvised rhyme, accidentally summoning the demonic Rattle Tap, asking him to take her baby away. A.C. Wise does an outstanding job getting into the mind of a sleep-deprived mother losing control of her own mental processes in this twisted, nightmarish fairy tale, where Rattle Tap becomes an external manifestation of the beast within us all.

Another standout that brings our inner monsters to the forefront is “The Last Drop” by Carole Johnstone, which describes a 19th century murder trial. Although the story itself is fictional, all of the testimony is taken from the transcripts of real court cases published in the Dumfries and Galloway Standard and the Wigtownshire Free Press in 1862.

While I am emphasizing the heavier stories, there is also a lot of fun within the pages of Screams from the Dark. The opening story, “You Have What I Need” by Ian Rogers, features a woman who checks herself into the emergency room at Chicago Hopeless hospital after being bitten by a vampire, possibly infected with the vampire virus. During her quarantine period, the emergency room is viciously attacked by three vampires from the streets. Another dark delight is Richard Kadrey’s “What is Love but the Quiet Moments After Dinner?” which explores two lovers whose violent passions culminate in some casual…um…cannibalism.

The twenty-nine stories in Screams from the Dark masterfully examine the nature of monsters and monstrosities, both tangible and abstract. Ellen Datlow’s extensive experience as a short story editor shines throughout the entirety of this volume. Screams from the Dark earns my highest recommendation, ranking among the best compilation of short stories that I’ve read in any genre.

5/5

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REVIEW: Pennyblade by J.L. Worrad

Pennyblade by J.L. Worrad is a wonderful mix of high and grimdark fantasy, mixing the fae creatures you know and love with a low fantasy world and a very grimdark protagonist.

Kyra Cal’Adra is a sprite in a gritty fantasy world. Born into the nobility of her kind and all the riches and benefits that came with it, we are introduced to her as a pennyblade—a cutthroat road woman doing mercenary jobs on the cheap with her dodgy crew. With her crew caught up in a job gone wrong, and crazed zealots with rope wrapped around their faces trying to kill her, Kyra is quickly knee-deep in trouble. Trouble even her famed capability with a rapier might not be able to  get her out of.

In tandem, we read an earlier storyline, detailing Kyra’s fall from grace as she tries to be happy and free in a world where she and her twin brother are controlled and used for their uniqueness. In this half of the book, Kyra’s grandmother reminds me of Andross Guile, using every pawn at her disposal to deliver greatness to her family line now and far into the future. She is one of the more enjoyable secondary characters of this book.

Pennyblade is a story of prejudices. And our protagonist has just as many of them as everyone else. I really enjoyed the way Worrad delivered Kyra’s perspective in this way. It makes an inhuman character very human in my eyes, despite Worrad’s efforts to make Kyra distinctly not human. Worrad also handles things like stutters in characters well. As a husband to a stutterer, I feel like the author took pains to depict the speech patterns and impact on life and career correctly as can be, and did well to not make a big victim of a character just because they have a speech impediment.

Early on Pennyblade struggled to find its voice. It tried to have the protagonist viciousness of Prince of Thorns, the fun voice of Logen Ninefinger’s and any Northman chapters in The Blade Itself, and the open mindedness of A Crown for Cold Silver. To me in the first 30% of this book it felt like it fell short of the first two goals (tip of the glass for nailing the third one, though). And then it felt like Worrad stopped trying to emulate other authors, and really hit their stride after that–like they started having fun and letting their own voice soar. The following two thirds of the book until the final twist I really loved and ripped through.

However, the ending didn’t really land for me at all, feeling like it lacked punch after the build up. I know that enjoyment of endings is very much a matter of perspective and in-the-moment mood, but for me, it felt like the author was listing a bunch of reasons why the twist was the twist at the end–as if they were justifying it like the old detective novels used to.

Pennyblade is a fun, short read that is worth the time investment. Kyra is a pretty brutal protagonist, and one grimdark fans will enjoy reading. It’s a short, fast book, and the gritty delivery mixed with a very different protagonist will have readers whipping through the pages.

3/5

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REVIEW: Love, Death + Robots Season 3

The first season of Love, Death + Robots was unambiguously a groundbreaking hit. I was utterly blown away by the anthology series of animated shorts when it first released. All of the disparate tales of speculative fiction brought to life in a staggering array of beautiful animation were a joy to behold. Which made the second season something of a disappointment, beleaguered by inconsistencies in both the animation and the storytelling.

When the third season of Love, Death + Robots was announced I was equal parts hopeful and hesitant. Would it be the same rapturous celebration of art and storytelling that the first season was? Or leave me cold and listless like the second season? Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that the second season was qualitatively bad, only that perhaps the first iteration of Love, Death + Robot’s episodes set the bar too high.

Thankfully, my fears were unwarranted. I sat down expecting to start off by watching the first few episodes of Love, Death + Robots and instead wound up binging the entire season in one sitting—which I highly recommend if you can slot in the time. Composed of nine episodes, the third season of Love, Death + Robots is a triumphant return to form for the anthology series that showcases an impressive array of animation styles from some astounding studios, telling stories that run the gamut from comical to gut-wrenching, from thoughtfully philosophical to glaringly horrific. It would be easy to say there’s something for everyone in this run, but there’s also likely to be something that some folks won’t like, either.

That being said, as far as this reviewer is concerned, the entirety of Love, Death + Robots is a testament to animation and the power of storytelling through the lens of speculative fiction. It opens with a callback to the first season, with the return of three ridiculous robots that folks who have been following the show might remember. It’s a frightfully on the nose commentary on the current state of world affairs and a glimpse of how monstrously wrong things could potentially go, but does it with enough caustic and biting humor to create a kind of balance. On the far end of the spectrum, at the end of the season, we land on a tale that’s so beautifully animated and cleverly rendered that it’s hard to believe at times that what you’re watching isn’t live-action. It’s utterly gorgeous, fluid, perfectly captivating in its execution.

Between those ends, Love, Death + Robots tells stories of far away galaxies and unimaginable futures. Inhuman aliens. Cosmic gods. Zombie apocalypses. Murderous cyborg grizzly bears and so, so much more. Like I said before, there’s honestly something for everyone. If you don’t like the whole thing as much as I did, I can almost guarantee you’ll like something. And if you don’t, who knows, maybe you’re dead inside—or either fantasy and science fiction or the joyous medium of animation aren’t for you. But you should at least do yourself a favor and try it out. The third season of Love, Death + Robots is peak short form animated storytelling and every writer, artist, animator, director and everyone else involved should be damn proud of the five star performance they’ve accomplished. Now I need to sit down and watch it all over again.

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REVIEW: The Dark Forest by Cixin Liu

Humanity has waged war on insects for thousands of years. Despite our superior intellect and technology, insects still survive and even thrive. At the end of The Three-Body Problem, the aliens from Trisolaris send a simple message to humanity: “You’re bugs.” The gap between the Trisolarans and humans is as large as that between humans and insects. Will humanity face annihilation from this vastly more intelligent species set on colonizing Earth, or will it find a way to survive after being demoted to an insectoid state?

The people of Earth have about 400 years to prepare for the arrival of the Trisolarans, who can only travel at a small fraction of the speed of light. As the second book in Cixin Liu’s The Remembrance of Earth’s Past trilogy, The Dark Forest tells of how humanity prepares for the arrival of the Trisolarans. The main challenge is that the Trisolarans have bugged Earth with sophons, intelligent subatomic particles that can monitor all human communication and instantaneously relay it to the traveling Trisolarans via quantum entanglement.

The sophons can monitor any communication, but they cannot penetrate the human mind. As such, the United Nations Planetary Defense Council selects four individuals to formulate survival plans entirely in their own minds, without ever communicating their ideas to anyone to avoid interception by the Trisolarans. These so-called “Wallfacers” are given essentially unlimited resources to support their plans, with no questions asked.

The first three Wallfacers are well-respected intellectuals with extensive experience in science and politics. Each of these Wallfacers is assigned a Wallbreaker by the competing Earth-Trisolaris Organization (ETO), a cult whose members worship the Trisolarans as deities. The Wallbreakers seek to expose and sabotage the plans being developed by the Wallfacers.

To everyone’s surprise, the fourth and final Wallfacer is selected to be Luo Ji, the main character of the book. Luo is an astronomer and sociology professor, but without any impressive credentials to justify his appointment as a Wallfacer. He is unambitious and uses his position as a Wallfacer to live an opulent lifestyle, which includes a bizarre and rather sexist subplot where Luo instructs his head of security to track down the perfect woman of his dreams. The ETO doesn’t bother to assign a Wallbreaker to Luo, believing that he serves as his own Wallbreaker.

The first half of The Dark Forest is a slog. Whereas The Three-Body Problem focuses on hard science within its tight-knit plot, the first half of The Dark Forest meanders rather aimlessly among existential philosophical musings and the fairly ridiculous plans concocted by the Wallfacers. Another major problem is Luo Ji, whom I find to be quite unlikeable as a main character. Luo pales in comparison to the brilliant, emotionally devastated Ye Wenjie of the first novel. Luo Ji’s overt sexism certainly doesn’t help, which is especially disappointing after having Ye Wenjie as the strong female lead of The Three-Body Problem.

There is also a noticeable drop in the writing quality in The Dark Forest compared to the poetically written and carefully polished text of The Three-Body Problem. This is likely a translation issue, as a different translator was employed for The Dark Forest.

Fortunately, Cixin Liu introduces a plot contrivance (hibernation) for the characters to escape the tedious first half of the book, propelling them 200 years into the future. The plot finally takes off as Luo awakens to an awe-inspiring future full of advanced technology. Readers are in for a wild ride in the second half of the book, which is full of action and unexpected plot twists, including the epic Doomsday Battle. Luo Ji also exhibits some positive character development in the latter part of the book, overcoming his sorry state from the first half.

Although The Dark Forest is a letdown compared to The Three-Body Problem, readers who endure the plodding first half of the book will be rewarded in its fast-paced and thought-provoking second half. The last 100 pages of the book are top-notch, rising to the same level as The Three-Body Problem. I look forward to finishing the trilogy with Death’s End, which returns to the original translator (Ken Liu) who brought The Three-Body Problem so vibrantly to life in the anglophone world.  I expect a full return to form in this final volume.

3/5

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REVIEW: The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu

The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu is the first entry in The Remembrance of Earth’s Past series and has become an international sensation since its original publication in Chinese in 2006 and subsequent English translation by Ken Liu in 2014.

The novel opens during the Cultural Revolution, a period of fanaticism where the People’s Republic of China essentially became a personality cult for Mao Zedong. The cult of Mao dominated all facets of people’s lives, seeking to erase all non-Communist aspects of Chinese history and culture, through violent means if necessary. Of course, this also meant tight control over the Chinese education system to prevent the teaching of counterrevolutionary ideas.

Against this backdrop of the Cultural Revolution, Ye Wenjie’s father is a well-accomplished physics professor at the prestigious Tsinghua University in Beijing. He is at the forefront of his field, teaching core theories of modern physics such as general relativity and quantum mechanics. His embrace of Western science—including the work of Einstein and Bohr—leads him to be accused of embracing reactionary ideologies. He is beaten to death by students from the Red Guard in front of his terrified daughter. Ye Wenjie herself later becomes persecuted and imprisoned for embracing Western thought. She is saved by two military scientists working at the Red Coast, a top-secret space program by the Chinese government, who recognize Ye Wenjie’s outstanding abilities as a physicist.

The core idea of The Three-Body Problem draws directly from Stanisław Lem’s 1961 sci-fi classic, Solaris, which considers whether a planet that orbits two suns can support the evolution of life. In Solaris, the two suns have vastly different intensities, causing the climate of the orbiting planet, Solaris, to vary drastically depending upon which of the two suns is currently closer. The resulting climatic fluctuations cast doubt upon whether Solaris has a climate consistent enough to support biological evolution, which requires relative climatic stability over millions of years.

In The Three-Body Problem, Cixin Liu ups the ante by introducing a third sun to the problem. The orbital path of a planet around three suns poses a complex mathematical problem that has eluded solution for hundreds of years. In The Three-Body Problem, the orbiting planet, Trisolaris, experiences periods of relative stability punctuated by periods of sudden climatic chaos.

Throughout its planetary history, Trisolaris has undergone hundreds of stable periods, where society has achieved varying levels of scientific and technological development, only to be wiped out by sudden climate changes. The Trisolarans have evolved the ability to dehydrate themselves to survive through these periods of chaos, but they have finally determined that the only way their society can survive in the long-term is to colonize another inhabitable planet with a more stable climate. Compared to Trisolaris, the pale blue dot we know as Earth looks rather enticing.

Beyond its excellent treatment of scientific principles, The Three-Body Problem raises several important philosophical questions, the deepest of these being: Is humanity worth saving? As Ye Wenjie becomes one of the leading scientists searching for extraterrestrial life, her experiences during the Cultural Revolution have molded her views on the value of humanity.

Although Solaris and The Three-Body Problem start with essentially the same premise, The Three-Body Problem succeeds in ways where Solaris falters. Whereas Solaris falls quickly into pseudoscience, The Three-Body Problem is built upon largely believable scientific principles. Cixin Liu injects the plot with heavy doses of realistic quantum entanglement, information theory, nanotechnology, and particle physics. One of the most interesting concepts proposed by The Three-Body Problem is a new subatomic particle called a “sophon,” which can change dimensionality as a way of storing information. Beyond the hard sciences, Cixin Liu also brilliantly handles questions of sociology, especially in relation to the Cultural Revolution and its impact on human psychology and the decisions made by individual characters.

The story itself is told from multiple points of view across several decades. Such drastic shifts in perspective and time frame could be disorienting in less capable hands, but Cixin Liu adeptly handles these transitions, using them as an effective way to build the greater narrative.

The Three-Body Problem is a nearly perfect sci-fi novel, translated vibrantly by Ken Liu. The translation also includes several helpful footnotes to help non-Chinese readers understand key aspects of Chinese history mentioned in the novel. Everything about this book is so well conceived and executed, earning my highest rating.

5/5

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REVIEW: In a Hotel Room in Chillicothe by Joshua Shuh

In a Hotel Room in Chillicothe, the self-published debut novel from Joshua Shuh, takes the reader on a chilling thrill ride of psychological manipulation and horror.

As the book opens, seven strangers find themselves strapped securely in metal chairs inside a darkened room with pistols pointed at their heads. Although they don’t remember it, they have apparently “volunteered” to be part of a psychological experiment where only one of them will exit alive. The experiment is being conducted by a sadistic mastermind who doesn’t hesitate to torture any of his “guests” if they deviate from the rules of his meticulously constructed experiment. The experiment takes place in rounds, each leading to the death of one person, as voted on by the remaining participants.

The seven participants in In a Hotel Room in Chillicothe are: (1) Jon, a history professor who killed a young girl; (2) Juliette, a teenaged bully; (3) George, a mechanic and sex offender; (4) Jeff, a pastor and wifebeater; (5) Judy, a pregnant accountant; (6) Mark, a computer programmer and drug addict; and (7) Lisa, a senator who cast the deciding vote to go to war.

During each round of In a Hotel Room in Chillicothe, the participants are instructed to read verbatim from a script containing a single piece of information about themselves, which then influences the final vote of who will meet their untimely demise. The psychological manipulation that takes place during each round keeps the reader guessing, as well as the mystery surrounding the overall purpose of this brutal experiment.

Joshua Shuh has done an outstanding job with the conception and execution of In a Hotel Room in Chillicothe. Although the setting is extreme, the psychology that is conveyed in this book is brilliant, especially how the seven participants are manipulated by each other and by the sadistic mastermind of the game. Shuh also addresses interesting philosophical questions as we learn more about the rationale for the game itself in the latter part of the novel, where the tone of the book shifts from horror to sci-fi.

All of this is done as part of a fast-paced, action-packed plot, with plenty of gore for horror lovers. I am especially impressed by how Shuh addresses such thought-provoking psychological and philosophical questions without a moment of dullness in the entire book. The writing in In a Hotel Room in Chillicothe is straightforward and unobtrusive, propelling the plot forward while keeping the reader glued to the pages. My only complaint is that there are a number of typos that should be corrected with careful editing. But this is a minor complaint in a book that I simply couldn’t put down.

In a Hotel Room in Chillicothe is a superb debut of sci-fi tinged horror from an author with a deep knowledge of human psychology and a clear passion for crafting a compelling story. I look forward to reading more from Joshua Shuh in the future.

4.5/5

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An Interview with Ed McDonald

This summer, acclaimed author Ed McDonald will be releasing Daughter of Redwinter, the first novel in his brand-new fantasy series. The novel follows teenage protagonist Raine as she reckons with her forbidden ability to see the dead and enters Redwinter, fortress stronghold and training ground of the magical Draoihn. Ed McDonald is best known for his Raven’s Mark series. He has also contributed to Grimdark Magazine.

Steve Green and I sat down with Ed to talk about his thoughts on the post-grimdark age, magic as a resource, necromancy as a trend, and what affects his writing process.

[image error][GdM] Without giving too much of the plot away, can you give potential readers the number one reason to pick up your newest book?

[EM] Have you ever wondered what would happen if you followed The White Witch from her earliest days at wizard school?

[GdM] Your Raven’s Mark series got a decent amount of buzz ( including from us! ). Did potential critic and reader expectations influence your process for this novel?

[EM] It’s easy to get yourself tangled up in worrying that you won’t gain new readers, or that you’ll alienate the old, but ultimately being a writer is about creativity. The best thing to do is ignore everything you’ve heard (and where possible, avoid reading reviews of your own books – they’re for readers, not for writers!). Ultimately the only effective way you can approach writing is to tell the story that’s in your heart, and for me that means I have a bunch of feelings or I’ve had certain experiences and I want to share them on the page. I think that writers need to ignore their critics and not worry about pleasing their fans. Each book (or series of books) is its own thing. They may not be for everyone, and that’s alright.

[GdM] What’s the most difficult thing about writing characters of the opposite sex?

[EM] I was very conscious of trying to get Raine right, and for her to feel like a real person. For Daughter of Redwinter I spent a lot of time talking to my partner about how to portray Raine, trying to ensure that she felt honest. From those conversations, my big takeaway was that the important thing when writing any character is to remember that they’re an individual, not a representative, and that you should write each character, who or whatever they are, just as themselves. Of course, male authors writing female protagonists can’t help but be aware of the more comical errors some male writers have made in the past, and I think that often where they’ve made those errors it’s because they’ve focused on the character as a symbol (and delved either into stereotyping or some baffling assumptions), rather than as a personality.

[GdM] How does living with another writer affect how you write?

[EM] The best thing about having a partner who is a writer is that they understand what it’s like – the pressures, the work that needs doing, how your moods shift and that kind of thing. Publishing is a complex, frustrating and sometimes baffling industry and having someone close by who understands it is invaluable. I like to bounce ideas off a sounding board, and Cat is excellent for that (and she can be pretty vociferous when insisting something needs to be added). Conversely, she doesn’t like to spill any secrets at all before she’s finishing writing a whole book, so we’re quite different in that regard. We edit each other once manuscripts are completed, and that’s an extremely helpful thing to have in your arsenal.

Inevitably, elements of your own lives make it into your books and sometimes we can see ourselves reflected in each other’s writing, which can be both fun and terrifying.

[GdM] It feels like we are on a great journey with Raine as she experiences politicking within the clan system and learns more about the Draoihn trances. What inspired you to create this magic system functioning within a larger clan system?

[EM] The two elements were essentially separate elements of world building that came together in the only way that they could. This is one of the most fun things about creating new worlds, and can occasionally be frustrating when one element refuses to support another. But in any world where magic is rare then either it’s hoarded up at the top of society, or it’s hidden away from everyone (and still likely to be exploited by the elite). Magic is a resource, and so it’s going to be well protected.

Regarding the clans, I wanted to give this book a Scottish feel, and lots of the mythology is inspired by Scottish folklore as well so the two were really asking to go hand in hand.

[GdM] What was the most challenging scene to write in Daughter of Redwinter?

[EM] There’s a scene where Raine first experiences some feelings about another character in a bath, and I hadn’t expected those feelings to be there when I was first writing it. I experienced a moment of thinking “Is this who Raine actually is and I didn’t realise?” and typically when I have those thoughts, the answer is going to be “Yes,” or I wouldn’t be having them. Getting the tension right, having to think into two characters heads as things go between them unspoken, and showing enough that the reader can pick up on what both characters are doing without anyone explicitly stating it, and neither character is really self-aware enough to know why they’re doing it… well, that’s quite a task and I hope I pulled it off.

Oh, and I should say “The first six chapters.” I rewrote them from scratch about nine times, with different locations, different characters, all changing each time until I settled on a version that worked.

[GdM] We’ve noticed an increasing number of protagonists who practice some version of death magic or necromancy ( Gideon the Ninth and Bone Shard Daughter , to name a few). Do you feel this is a trend you were consciously tapping into? 

[EM] I first wrote Daughter of Redwinter in a different form back in 2012, and I rarely read fantasy these days – unfortunately when I read fantasy my brain sees it as work, and begins dissecting it on the page, trying to see influences, guessing where it’s going and generally spoiling the experience for me. However, we’ve definitely seen some fun takes on necromancy, and stories that ask “What if Sauron was right all along?” It’s perhaps a natural part of Grimdark’s journey as a sub-genre that we started by asking what happens if the bad people are on the good side, then asking what happens if the bad people aren’t on anyone’s side, to asking “What if good people are using bad ends on their own side?”

[GdM] What did you learn while writing this book?

[EM] To go with my gut and to stop worrying how it will be received!

[GdM] You mentioned in another interview that you consider us to be in the post-grimdark age. How would you explain this to readers of Grimdark Magazine? How do you think authors can stay original within the bounds of the grimdark genre?

[EM] There was a time when dark-and-gritty was all that fantasy publishers wanted to buy up (OK they also wanted paranormal romance). Grimdark was everywhere, and I caught onto the tail end of the ride in 2016. But by around 2018, the market was saturated, and new interests pushed publishers to redirect their energy towards fantasy set in non-European settings and more hopeful books, tapping into an audience for whom morally-grey protagonists were now starting to feel… well, grey. The pandemic solidified the change – readers wanted escapism and every wave has to break. When you look back at the books that were first dubbed Grimdark – let’s say Abercrombie or Lynch – they’re practically “noble-bright” compared to what authors tested the limits of the subgenre with eventually. But that extreme end of the market is not a large space, and publishers began to buy up different stories.

However, like any trend or movement, Grimdark has indelibly left its mark on fantasy as a whole. Even the more hopeful fantasy books getting published now retain much of its edge. “Morally grey characters” was once part of Grimdark’s definition, and now it’s standard across most of fantasy fiction – what was once subversion has become the norm. It’s natural that this happens, but that’s why I say we’re in a Post-Grimdark Age: new literature wouldn’t be the same if we hadn’t gone on the journey, but dark-and-gritty is no longer the dominating force in publishing houses’ lists that it once was. Grimdark stories are still being published (and I’ll be interested to see whether Daughter of Redwinter gets classified as such!) but publishers are no longer using the label – nobody wants to be marketing something under yesterday’s sales pitch.

I advise all budding fantasy authors to ensure that what they’re writing has one big, defining characteristic that means two readers who’ve forgotten the book’s title could instantly know the book the other was talking about. So if someone says “It’s that book with a place called the Misery” then I think they’d both get that it was the Raven’s Mark straight off. But ultimately, any story told from a unique character perspective is an original story, and it’s characters that matter over everything else.

[GdM] What’s on deck for the future?

[EM] The second Redwinter Chronicles book is in edits, and then it’s on with the third. I’d love to have a crack at a thriller and my partner and I are looking to write an audio drama together – if we ever have the time.

Read Daughter of Redwinter by Ed McDonald

The post An Interview with Ed McDonald appeared first on Grimdark Magazine.

REVIEW: Eyes of the Void by Adrian Tchaikovsky

The fate of humanity is dire in Adrian Tchaikovsky’s second book of The Final Architecture series. After eighty years of tense silence the Architects are not only back, they are fixed on destroying all inhabited worlds. Originator artifacts that once protected planets from these moon-sized aliens no longer work. In Eyes of the Void, death is coming to all.

Eyes of the Void takes place shortly after the events in Shards of Earth. The entire galaxy has been thrown into pandemonium. Architects have found a way to bypass Originator tech that the Hegemony once used to shield planets. The use of Intermediaries or Ints, people who can travel through Unspace and communicate with the Architects, is the only solution left. Despite abysmal success rates, creating more Ints is paramount. The feud over control of these Ints may bring forth a new galactic war.

Idris Telemmier is an Intermediary first class and one of the most experienced Unspace pilots. Yet, his two-time war hero status is matched with a polarizing reputation. For some who had witnessed human colonies fall entirely subservient to alien cults, it is crucial for humanity to fight alone. Idris had deflected the Architects away in the war. He betrayed his own kind. With humanity on the verge of annihilation once more, all are watching Idris. What will he do next?

Idris Telemmier’s plight in Eyes of the Void is a gripping classic. While he wants nothing more than to vanish from the center of universe’s attention, he recognizes his responsibility. His decisions will forever change the course of humanity. His mistakes will aid its end. Idris as the reluctant hero proves a well written trope has its place in modern works.

Eyes of the Void did read as more of a setup piece for the third book in the series. While action-packed, this second installment adds depth to Tchaikovsky’s universe. We learn more about established alien species and Unspace. Tchaikovsky is exceptional in presenting truly outlandish aliens and giving them authenticity. The same is true for his enhanced humans. I especially enjoyed learning more about the Parthenon and the symbiotic Tothiats.

I love Tchaikovsky’s concept of Unspace. His depiction of this real and nonexistent void heightens my imagination. The mystery hidden in Unspace feels truly limitless. I crave to understand its secrets. Eyes of the Void rejuvenated my inherent sense of wonder for space.

Eyes of the Void amplifies everything from the first book. There are more battles, more Architects, and so much more to learn about Tchaikovsky’s universe. I am all too eager for book three.

Read Eyes of the Void by Adrian Tchaikovsky

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