Adrian Collins's Blog, page 218

REVIEW: Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

Blood Meridian. This novel by Cormac McCarthy is a book that disturbed me to my core and made me dwell on the realities and philosophies within it. I have struggled to type what I actually think about it and have thus far failed to put into words my feelings around it. But I cannot stop thinking about it. I’ll leave this quote here:

“The truth about the world, he said, is that anything is possible. Had you not seen it all from birth and thereby bled it of its strangeness it would appear to you for what it is, a hat trick in a medicine show, a fevered dream, a trance bepopulate with chimeras having neither analogue nor precedent, an itinerant carnival, a migratory tentshow whose ultimate destination after many a pitch in many a mudded field is unspeakable and calamitous beyond reckoning. “

Cormac McCarthy is considered to be America’s best living author. He has written works that have been turned into films – The Road; No Country for Old Men; All the Pretty Horses and Child of God. I have had swarms of recommendations to read something by McCarthy, due to his god-like prose and his dark story-telling. After this single read, I feel it is my job to also recommend and subject everyone I meet to Blood Meridian.

“It makes no difference what men think of war, said the judge. War endures. As well ask men what they think of stone. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. That is the way it was and will be. That way and not some other way.”

Blood Meridian or, subtitled as; The Evening Redness in the West (appropriate subtitle by the way), begins in the 1850s Texas-Mexico border. It follows a 14-year old boy we only know as ‘the Kid’ who flees his home in Tennessee and heads to Texas. His journey takes twists and turns leading him to become a scalphunter – joining the infamous Glanton Gang and being paid for each and every Native American scalp in a world that is just as cruel as that sentence sounds.

“The wrath of God lies sleeping. It was hid a million years before men were and only men have the power to wake it. Hell aint half full. Hear me. Ye carry war of a madman’s making onto a foreign land. Ye’ll wake more than the dogs.”

I have since found out that the Glanton Gang that McCarthy wrote about is actually a historical gang that actually went around killing and scalping Native American tribes in the 1850s and actually got paid to do so. Cormac McCarthy based this novel from the book ‘My Confession: Recollections of a Rogue’ written by Samuel Chamberlain – a man who rode with the Glanton Gang – which is considered to be the best account we have today of a soldier’s life in the Mexican War. Glanton’s Gang are established and acutely cold-hearted and professional as can be, their leader John Glanton a fearsome, gritty soldier. McCarthy’s writing of Glanton is hideously and brutally factual, showing the horror of such a leader and the stone-cold composition this person had to commit the savage acts they did.

“Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent.”

This book centres around the character the kid and his journey within the Glanton Gang, but there is one character who this book is about. The Judge Holden. The Judge is a terrifying character, devoid of emotion and any humanistic traits. He is a giant, hairless murderer and psychopath. The Judge had monologues that displayed his philosophical thinking and his inhumanity that were in some parts exhilarant and in more parts just ridiculously menacing. He is spine-chilling and every line within this book about him will disturb you. Especially the last line, which led me to hold my head and let out a sigh for what felt like forever. As you read this book you will decide who The Judge really is. Some say he is the devil, others that he is everything evil within us, some that he is just a man with no compassion in the Wild West.

“If God meant to interfere in the degeneracy of mankind would he not have done so by now? Wolves cull themselves, man. What other creatures could? And is the race of man not more predacious yet?”

Within Blood Meridian I really discovered what the word ‘grim’ meant. There is no respite or interlude of the mass-chaos that the gang ensue. As a group of men who’s sole purpose is to scalp men, women and children, you know it isn’t going to be a light-hearted book. But McCarthy writes with a prose that is biblical, and the horrifying acts that are committed are written in the most un-gratuitous way which makes it all the more vicious. This book should have a massive ‘IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH, AVOID’ sticker on. The brutality is moderately standard for Grimdark novels until around the 160page mark where the author really turns up that gore. Really.

“The jagged mountains were pure blue in the dawn and everywhere birds twittered and the sun when it rose caught the moon in the west so that they lay opposed to each other across the earth, the sun whitehot and the moon a pale replica, as if they were the ends of a common bore beyond whose terminals burned worlds past all reckoning.”

Cormac McCarthy’s prose must be praised here, as his accomplishment to write a book that is so poetic and metaphorical and make it seem so natural is quite incredible. I have only read this book once and I can see myself reading it many more times as I feel I have only just scratched the surface of his true thoughts and meanings within the subtleties of the language he uses. He avoids punctuation, especially speech, he writes long-winded sentences and repeats and a lot, he breaks all of the ‘literary rules’ and really makes it work.

“They were watching, out there past men’s knowing, where stars are drowning and whales ferry their vast souls through the black and seamless sea.”

I usually love to read a story that is all about being behind the main character and his friends. Wanting the character to prevail or succeed. There is none of that within Blood Meridian, until the last 60 or so pages. Blood Meridian doesn’t need anything extra. It is an achievement of writing and a book that can only be described as genius. The ambiguity of the ending left me wanted to scream and sleep at the same time and just added to the horror that I had read for the previous 350 pages.

“Only that man who has offered up himself entire to the blood of war, who has been to the floor of the pit and seen the horror in the round and learned at last that it speaks to his inmost heart, only that man can dance.”

5/5 – It’s hard to put into words how this book has made me feel. I finished it last week and still cannot comprehend it, but also cannot stop reflecting back on it. Cormac McCarthy’s writing is sublime and this book is well and truly Grimdark. Not for the faint-hearted. Please let me know if you read it or have read it, I’d love to talk about your thoughts!

Buy Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

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REVIEW: Stormblood by Jeremy Szal

In Jeremy Szal’s barnstorming debut Stormblood, Harmony won the war against Harvest, but to do so it had to use super soldiers created through alien organisms injected irreversibly into human bodies. Those men and women are capable of the best and the worst, depending on if they can control the alien stormtech in their systems as it bays for blood and action. These men and women are the ultimate flesh-and-bone weapons, built for winning wars through unending grit and sheer bloody-mindedness.

Only, the war ended. Harmony had an army of battle-scarred super soldiers who were no longer needed to kill but had to integrate back into a normal civilisation once more, and a black market just waiting to get their hands on an almost irreversibly addictive drug.

Our protagonist Vak survived the war with Harmony and has alien tech all through his body—supercharging him and at the same time making him sometimes more a beast slaved to alien nature than man. Our story starts with Vak and his mate stealing from a local crime boss to help pay for his mate stay on Compass (the asteroid they call home) while in the back ground we start to hear about addiction to stormtech rising and addicts going mental on it.

Then the overdoses start happening not just to the addicts, but the soldiers who came back from the war and thought their stormtech under control—men and women our protagonist Vak went through hell with. People who should have been able to survive the urges. People Harmony were supposed to be helping manage to be a part of society, despite the stormtech and their mental war wounds.

Now, I’ll admit two things: Firstly, masses of soldiers being sent back into society after a big war and struggling to integrate is one of my favourite background stories to read–it works in fantasy just as well as science fiction, and always sets you up for a hard-bitten explosive story. So almost immediately I knew there was a good chance I was going to enjoy the foundation for this story as much as, say, Priest of Bones. 

Secondly, this book is like a mixture of Altered Carbon and something I’ve not really read before, or even thought I wanted to read before, body horror (a lighter, non-sexual version of it, from the descriptions I can find online). And it bloody-well works. It creates a visceral experience that at times had me gritting my teeth and wincing–especially through a certain torture scene–and at other times sweating the action right alongside our hero.

With a solid foundational backstory, a heart-pumping opening, and a new genre splice I’d not read before, all Szal had to do was not take his foot off the accelerator from cover to cover to deliver an awesome reading experience. He doesn’t just do that, he mashes the pedal to the floor in a book that reads like an action movie but at the same time delivers such heart-wrenching and heart-warming relationships that enable him to deliver gut punches that hit home when it matters.

And this is a point I’d like to labour on a little. Vak’s relationships with Grimm and Katherine and his brother Artyom in the current timeline, and with his fireteam during the timeline that gives you a look at what the war with Harmony was like, are phenomenally written. By the end of it I was so engaged in the characters that Szal had my emotions on puppet strings. For such a young author to write such engaging characters speaks of more life experience than he could surely have. I can’t say enough good stuff about how engaging Szal’s relationships in Stormblood are.

Stormblood is a magnificent and explosive adrenaline-fest that ends with an absolute gut-punch that ties all the threads back into one tear-inducing moment. Szal’s debut is an absolute must read for fans of gritty, action-packed, detective / military SF. Whatever book two is, I’m in.

Buy Stormblood by Jeremy Szal

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EXCLUSIVE: Excerpt of Along the Razor’s Edge by Rob J. Hayes

Rob J. Hayes is a grimdark fan-favourite, and our team is really excited to release the prologue of his newest work, Along the Razor’s Edge. We’ve loved his other books such as Never Die and Where Loyalties Lie, and just cannot wait to get our hands on this newest release.

Without further ado, I give you the prologue to Along the Razor’s Edge!

Prologue

My life began the day we lost the war.

I remember seeing the fire go out of Josef’s eyes. I remember seeing my oldest friend give up and surrender. “Eskara, STOP! It’s over. We’ve lost.”

We were surrounded by enemies, standing atop the tallest tower of Fort Vernan. The city around us was chaos, a battle played out in the darkest shades of red. Beyond the city was a scorched ruin, fields turned black by fire and war.

“It’s not over!” I screamed, a shard of ice forming in one hand while the other burst into green flame. “We can take them. We are the Emperor’s Weapons.” Oh, the over-confidence of youth, before the hammer and anvil of time and reality have beaten us into whatever shape society demands.

I remember twenty men and women surrounding us, though my memory is fuzzy from rage. Perhaps it was more like ten. Some were warriors with glowing armour, enchanted to deflect magic. Others were Sourcerers like Josef and I. Well, not quite like us. We were beyond them. In our prime. Each with five Sources lending us power.

“It’s over,” Josef said again, grabbing my arm and pointing.

Down below, on the field of battle I could see the two armies clashing; crashing against each other. Horns sounded over the din, echoing up to our ears. And I saw flags falling. The tell-tale blue blur of a Chronomancer darting between units, relaying the orders. Our soldiers laying down their arms.

Josef was right, the order had been given to surrender. It might not have reached us yet, so high up, but it would. After ten years of war the Orran empire was crumbling.

I didn’t know it then, but the emperor was dead. While the battle raged at our door and I rained down five types of bloody hell upon our enemy, they had infiltrated the palace and ended the Orran bloodline once and for all.

“Stand down,” ordered one of the Terrelan soldiers. His armour was silver with etched runes glowing pink. There was fear on his face, as well there should have been. I saw it there and smiled. We had already killed so many of his comrades. They were right to fear me.

The sky was on fire, blood red showing behind the grey clouds, lightning rippling overhead and thunder rattling the earth. A Meteomancer beating out a dramatic ending to the ten-year war.

There are times in life when it is wise to lay down and accept defeat. It is a lesson Josef learned early on in his life. I was, as always, the slower learner.

“No! I will not lay down and…” My mouth fumbled out a strangled cry as Josef hit me from behind, and the world went bright for a moment. The next thing I remember, I was down on my hands and knees, staring at stone the colour of ash. It was rough to the touch and cold despite the battle. I have always been attuned to temperature. Pyromancy was the first school I mastered and remains one of my most proficient.

When I looked up, I saw a woman rushing towards me, she wore Terrelan robes and her eyes glowed green with her magic. I felt a wave of hopelessness wash over me, quashing my will to fight.

Hands grabbed hold of me from behind and pulled me up to stare at the woman with the glowing eyes. She reached into a pouch hanging from her belt and pulled out a clump of brown weed. I clenched my jaw shut and struggled against the hands holding me, but I was not strong enough. My power lay in magic, not brute strength.

Fingers pushed into my cheeks so hard I felt them puncture the skin. They forced my mouth open and shoved the weed inside. Then there was a hand underneath my jaw, clamping my mouth shut. The taste was bitter and spicy all at once, so hot it burned my tongue and made my eyes water.

Too late, I thought to use magic. With a surge of power, I ignited my hands into searing green flame. Those holding me screamed and fell away. I leapt back to my feet just as the first wave of vertigo hit. The world turned upside down and then wobbled, finally righting itself with a violent shake. I was back on my hands and knees again, the green flame guttering out even as I watched.

You can’t control the retching once it starts. Spiceweed is potent stuff. Within moments I was hacking up the contents of my stomach while struggling to breathe. My first Source hit the floor in pool of acidic vomit. It held a faint orange glow, already fading. I felt my connection to fire fade with it.

The second Source to go was my connection to the Other World. It was larger than the others with hard edges, and bringing it back up was beyond painful. Somewhere above, I knew the hellions I had summoned would tear free of their bondage and fly away. Unleashed monsters are a blight on the world, but a few monsters to hunt down are less dangerous than I with a Source in my stomach.

My last three Sources I vomited up as well, each with a sticky coating of blood. They were snatched away as soon as I retched them onto the floor. I was exhausted. Bringing up Sources has always been that way for me. It takes such effort, as though my body refuses to let go of the power even once it starts to hurt me. And it has hurt me. Many times.

I lay there on the rooftop of the tallest tower of Fort Vernan, in a pool of my own vomit and blood. Beaten. Stripped of my power. And so fucking angry! My hands were pulled behind my back and I felt rope wrap around them. A distant discomfort I barely registered as the misery of my defeat rose up to claim me.

At just fifteen years old, I had fought in the greatest war mankind has ever known. I had been one of Orran’s most powerful Sourcerers, celebrated by our allies and feared by our enemies. I had helped bring prosperity to my emperor’s lands, destruction to his foes. And now I was a prisoner, my power gone with my Sources. There was only one place the Terrelans would send a prisoner as valuable as I– the Pit.

Buy Along the Razor’s Edge by Rob J. Hayes

Along the Razor’s Edge is going to be magnificent, and we can’t wait to review it. Make sure you get your order in.

The post EXCLUSIVE: Excerpt of Along the Razor’s Edge by Rob J. Hayes appeared first on Grimdark Magazine.

Ten criminally underrated fantasy books

Not all authors get to drown in royalties and have fans baying for their blood the moment they take twelve seconds away from the keyboard to scratch their arses. Some have brilliant first books that never get a second, or self published books that don’t get a look in because they don’t have a big 4 stamp on their spine. Publishing, like life, tends not to be all that fair.

Today I was having my scheduled quarterly internal mental flip-out about Beyond Redemption not getting a traditionally published sequel, and I realised that I’m not really sure which other dark / grimdark fantasy book series I should be sitting around getting steamed about being dumped by their publishers or being ignored by the market. So, naturally, I reached out to other people who’d get also steamed about this kind of stuff in the Grimdark Fiction Readers and Writers Facebook group, polled them, and came up with the top ten most criminally underrated fantasy books that you need to add to you TBR.

Just click on the covers below to head on over to Amazon.

Prince of Nothing by R. Scott Bakker

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A score of centuries has passed since the First Apocalypse and the thoughts of men have turned, inevitably, to more worldly concerns…

A veteran sorcerer and spy seeks news of an ancient enemy. A military genius plots to conquer the known world for his Emperor but dreams of the throne for himself. The spiritual leader of the Thousand Temples seeks a Holy War to cleanse the land of the infidel. An exiled barbarian chieftain seeks vengeance against the man who disgraced him. And into this world steps a man like no other, seeking to bind all – man and woman, emperor and slave – to his own mysterious ends.

But the fate of men – even great men – means little when the world itself may soon be torn asunder. Behind the politics, beneath the religious fervour, a dark and ancient evil is reawakening. After two thousand years, the No-God is returning. The Second Apocalypse is nigh. And one cannot raise walls against what has been forgotten…

Coldfire trilogy by C.S. Friedman

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Over a millennium ago, Erna, a seismically active yet beautiful world was settled by colonists from far-distant Earth. But the seemingly habitable planet was fraught with perils no one could have foretold, and the colonists found themselves caught in a desperate battle for survival against the fae, a terrifying natural force with the power to prey upon the human mind itself, drawing forth images from a person’s worst nightmare or most treasured dreams and indiscriminately giving them life.

Twelve centuries after fate first stranded the colonists on Erna, mankind has achieved an uneasy stalemate, and human sorcerers manipulate the fae for their own profit, little realising that demonic forces which feed upon such efforts are rapidly gaining in strength. Now, as the hordes of the dark fae multiply, four people – Priest, Adept, Apprentice and Sorcerer – are about to be drawn inexorably together for a mission which will force them to confront an evil beyond their imagining, in a conflict which will put not only their own lives but the very fate of humankind in jeopardy …

Manifest Delusions series by Michael R. Fletcher

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Faith shapes the landscape, defines the laws of physics, and makes a mockery of truth. Common knowledge isn’t an axiom, it’s a force of nature. What the masses believe is. But insanity is a weapon, conviction a shield. Delusions give birth to foul new gods.

Violent and dark, the world is filled with the Geisteskranken–men and women whose delusions manifest, twisting reality. High Priest Konig seeks to create order from chaos. He defines the beliefs of his followers, leading their faith to one end: a young boy, Morgen, must Ascend to become a god. A god they can control.

But there are many who would see this would-be-god in their thrall, including the High Priest’s own Doppels, and a Slaver no one can resist. Three reprobates–The Greatest Swordsman in the World, a murderous Kleptic, and possibly the only sane man left–have their own nefarious plans for the young god.

As these forces converge on the boy, there’s one more obstacle: time is running out. When one’s delusions become more powerful, they become harder to control. The fate of the Geisteskranken is to inevitably find oneself in the Afterdeath.

The question, then, is: Who will rule there?

The Wars of Light and Shadow by Janny Wurts

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A powerful, layered weaving of myth, prose and pure imagination – Curse of the Mistwraith opens an epic fantasy series perfect for fans of The Dark Tower and Earthsea.

Let each who reads determine the good and the evil for himself.

Athera is besieged by the Mistwraith, which blights the land and dims the mysteries guarded by the last fugitives of the old bloodlines.

But from a prophecy springs hope: the gifts of two brothers – one dark, one fair, raised on opposite sides of a relentless war – when paired may challenge the Mistwraith’s invasion, though at brutal cost…

Arithon, Master of Shadow, musician and mage, commands the power of illusion and darkness. Taken prisoner in battle, his fate falls to his half-brother, Prince Lysaer – a man endowed with the gift of light through the mother they share. Lysaer is the legitimate son of a king who was betrayed by his queen’s choice to father Arithon by his mortal enemy but that does not save him.

Vengeful fury drives the king to banish both Lysaer and Arithon from the world they know to the troubled realms of Athera beyond the Worldsend Gate.

The two exiles are thrown together by hatred and spilled blood – then bound by destiny to champion Athera’s sundered heritage. The highest stakes ride the backlash of their conflict – they must reforge their adverse ideals into balance, or destroy the etheric grace of a culture all but lost to antiquity.

The Ember Blade by Chris Wooding

[image error][image error]A land under occupation. A legendary sword. A young man’s journey to find his destiny.

Aren has lived by the rules all his life. He’s never questioned it; that’s just the way things are. But then his father is executed for treason, and he and his best friend, Cade, are thrown into a prison mine, doomed to work until they drop. Unless they can somehow break free….

But what lies beyond the prison walls is more terrifying still. Rescued by a man who hates him yet is oath-bound to protect him, pursued by inhuman forces, Aren slowly accepts that everything he knew about his world was a lie. The rules are not there to protect him or his people but to enslave them. A revolution is brewing, and Aren is being drawn into it, whether he likes it or not.

The key to the revolution is the Ember Blade. The sword of kings, the Excalibur of his people. Only with the Ember Blade in hand can their people be inspired to rise up…but it’s locked in an impenetrable vault in the most heavily guarded fortress in the land.

All they have to do now is steal it….

The Godblind trilogy by Anna Stephens

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There was a time when the Red Gods ruled the land. The Dark Lady and her horde dealt in death and blood and fire.

That time has long since passed and the neighbouring kingdoms of Mireces and Rilpor hold an uneasy truce. The only blood spilled is confined to the border where vigilantes known as Wolves protect their kin and territory at any cost.

But after the death of his wife, King Rastoth is plagued by grief, leaving the kingdom of Rilpor vulnerable.

Vulnerable to the blood-thirsty greed of the Warrior-King Liris and the Mireces army waiting in the mountains…

Master Assassins by Robert V.S. Redick

[image error][image error]Kandri Hinjuman was never meant to be a soldier. His brother Mektu was never meant for this world. Rivals since childhood, they are drafted into a horrific war led by a madwoman-Prophet, and survive each day only by hiding their disbelief. Kandri is good at blending in, but Mektu is hopeless: impulsive, erratic – and certain that a demon is stalking him. Is this madness or a second sense? Either way, Kandri knows that Mektu’s antics will land them both in early graves.

But all bets are off when the brothers’ simmering feud explodes into violence, and holy blood is spilled. Kandri and Mektu are taken for contract killers and must flee for their lives – to the one place where they can hope to disappear: the sprawling desert known as the Land that Eats Men.

In this eerie wilderness, the terrain is as deadly as the monsters, ghouls, and traffickers in human flesh. Here the brothers find strange allies: an aging warlord, a desert nomad searching for her family, a lethal child-soldier still in her teens. They also find themselves in possession of a secret that could bring peace to the continent of Urrath. Or unthinkable carnage.

Worldbreaker Saga by Kameron Hurley

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On the eve of a recurring catastrophic event known to extinguish nations and reshape continents, a troubled orphan evades death and slavery to uncover her own bloody past… while a world goes to war with itself.

In the frozen kingdom of Saiduan, invaders from another realm are decimating whole cities, leaving behind nothing but ash and ruin. At the heart of this war lie the pacifistic Dhai people, once enslaved by the Saiduan and now courted by their former masters to provide aid against the encroaching enemy.

Stretching from desolate tundra to steamy, semi-tropical climes seething with sentient plant life, this is an epic tale of blood mages and mercenaries, emperors and priestly assassins who must unite to save a world on the brink of ruin.

As the dark star of the cataclysm rises, an illegitimate ruler is tasked with holding together a country fractured by civil war; a precocious young fighter is asked to betray his family to save his skin; and a half-Dhai general must choose between the eradication of her father’s people or loyalty to her alien Empress.

Through tense alliances and devastating betrayal, the Dhai and their allies attempt to hold against a seemingly unstoppable force as enemy nations prepare for a coming together of worlds as old as the universe itself.

In the end, one world will rise – and many will perish.

Bloodsounder’s Arc by Jeff Salyards

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Many tales are told of the Syldoon Empire and its fearsome soldiers, who are known throughout the world for their treachery and atrocities. Some say that the Syldoon eat virgins and babies-or perhaps their own mothers. Arkamondos, a bookish young scribe, suspects that the Syldoon’s dire reputation may have grown in the retelling, but he’s about to find out for himself. Hired to chronicle the exploits of a band of rugged Syldoon warriors, Arki finds himself both frightened and fascinated by the men’s enigmatic leader, Captain Braylar Killcoin. A secretive, mercurial figure haunted by the memories of those he’s killed with his deadly flail, Braylar has already disposed of at least one impertinent scribe…and Arki might be next. Archiving the mundane doings of millers and merchants was tedious, but at least it was safe. As Arki heads off on a mysterious mission into parts unknown, in the company of the coarse, bloody-minded Syldoon, he is promised a chance to finally record an historic adventure well worth the telling, but first he must survive the experience! A gripping military fantasy in the tradition of Glen Cook, Scourge of the Betrayer explores the brutal politics of Empire-and the searing impact of violence and dark magic on a man’s soul.

The Whitefire Crossing by Courtney Schafer

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Dev is a smuggler with the perfect cover. He’s in high demand as a guide for the caravans that carry legitimate goods from the city of Ninavel into the country of Alathia. The route through the Whitefire Mountains is treacherous, and Dev is one of the few climbers who knows how to cross them safely. With his skill and connections, it’s easy enough to slip contraband charms from Ninavel – where any magic is fair game, no matter how dark – into Alathia, where most magic is outlawed.

But smuggling a few charms is one thing; smuggling a person through the warded Alathian border is near suicidal. Having made a promise to a dying friend, Dev is forced to take on a singularly dangerous cargo: Kiran. A young apprentice on the run from one of the most powerful mages in Ninavel, Kiran is desperate enough to pay a fortune to sneak into a country where discovery means certain execution – and he’ll do whatever it takes to prevent Dev from finding out the terrible truth behind his getaway.

Yet the young mage is not the only one harboring a deadly secret. Caught up in a web of subterfuge and dark magic, Dev and Kiran must find a way to trust each other – or face not only their own destruction, but that of the entire city of Ninavel.

Go grab some underrated fantasy books!

There’s plenty to love in this list, and plenty of low priced books to get your hands on. So, show the under-appreciated a bit of community love and grab a few books from this underrated fantasy books list.

The post Ten criminally underrated fantasy books appeared first on Grimdark Magazine.

OUT NOW: Neon Leviathan by T.R. Napper noir SF excerpt

I am excited to see Neon Leviathan by Australian Author T.R Napper finally hit the stands in Australia, the US, Canada, and the UK today! Two and a half years since I first pitched the idea to Tim after being absolutely blown away by his short stories The Line and Twelve Minutes to Vinh Quang, and here we are: publication day.

Reviews have been dropping for a few weeks now and we are so keen for you to check out this brilliant and frightening collection about society’s outsiders–the criminals, the soldiers, the addicts, the mathematicians, the gamblers and the cage fighters, the refugees and the rebels. From the battlefield to alternate realities to the mean streets of the dark city, in Neon Leviathan you will walk in the shoes of those who struggle to survive in a neon-saturated, tech-noir future.

So, stay with us, see what’s being said about this book, check out an excerpt of some of Tim’s writing, and grab your self a copy down the bottom of this post.

What people are saying about Neon Leviathan

Check out what people have had to say about Neon Leviathan below:

Tangent Online: “I’m reminded of a quote from Orwell’s Animal Farm, in which the old donkey Benjamin says “Life will go on as it has always gone on—that is, badly.” There are some humorous moments … along with one or two noir-style tales … but every story seems to emulate this one Orwellian quote in one way or another. And that, I think, is the appeal of Neon Leviathan. The malleability of identity and perceived reality aside, life always goes on as best it can. It might not be glorious, it might not be happy, it might not even be what we’ve been made to believe it to be, but—in the end—humans will persevere in whatever way they can, just as they always have.”

Spells and Spaceships: “Above all else, it really made me think. For a book to change your outlook on life is a huge achievement. I almost had the bravery to label it the 1984 of this generation; I genuinely feel this will be seen as a really important work in time to come and the potential for ‘Napper’ to eventually be spoken in the same sentence as ‘Gibson, Dick, Leguin, Huxley, Wells.’”

Richard K. Morgan (Altered Carbon): “Haunting and iridescent – combines the paranoid weirdness of the best Philip K Dick, the chilly but cool-as-fuck future gleam of cyberpunk, and an achingly beautiful literary inflection reminiscent of mainstream heavyweights like Murakami or Ishiguro. T. R. Napper’s futures feel at once gritty and vertiginous and close-focus human in the way only the best SF can manage. Whatever roadmap he’s working from, I can’t wait to see where he’s taking us next.”

Anna Smith Spark (Empires of Dust): “Brilliant. Frightening – genuinely mentally unpleasant, my brain itched as I read it.”

Adrian Tchaikovsky (Children of Time): “Each one of the stories in this collection is a carefully crafted masterpiece.”

For an interview with our brilliant author check out the Civilian Reader.

And without further ado, check out an excerpt of the short story that won Tim the Writers of the Future competition, Twelve Minutes to Vinh Quang.

Excerpt: Twelve Minutes to Vinh Quang

The restaurant smelled of anchovies and cigarettes. Lynn hated both, but still, it reminded her of home. Comforting and familiar. The anchovies in the sauce wouldn’t be real of course, and the tobacco almost certainly illegal.

It was three in the afternoon, but the room was still pretty much full. Patrons sipped glasses of tea, shrouded in the smoke and dusk, mumbling to each other in low-pitched conversation. Blinds were down against the windows, the only light emanating from shaded red lanterns hanging from the ceiling, casting the faces around her in crimson twilight.

The only light, that is, bar a government advertisement on the far wall. The picture of a decaying wooden boat on the high seas, the inhabitants of which were anonymous splotches of yellow staring over a thin railing. The holotype glow of the deep blue ocean was overwhelmed by the intensity of the red block letters stamped over the picture:

ILLEGAL

Everyday, middle-of-the-road fascism: it just had no imagination.

A small bell above the door tinkled as it opened, spearing an unwelcome slat of white sunlight into the room. Heat, too, gusting in to swirl the smoke and swing the lanterns. A shadow filled the doorframe, pausing perhaps to adjust its eyes to the gloom within. Maybe just pausing for effect.

An ancient Vietnamese woman behind the back counter came to life, pointing a gnarled finger at the new customer. “Má Măy. Dóng Cưả Lai đi.” [“Close that door. Your Mother!”]

The silhouette shut the door, emerging from the light into a broad-shouldered man wearing an immaculate tailored suit, deep-blue necktie, and an air of contempt for the room he’d just stepped into. He removed the black homburg from his head and ran a hand over his gleaming, jet-black hair, combed straight back. As he did so, Lynn glimpsed a tattoo snaking up under his sleeve.

The man walked to the back counter. Lynn turned to watch as he did, adjusting her silver nose ring with thumb and forefinger. He spoke in hushed tones with the old woman, glanced back at Lynn, then turned and started speaking again rapidly. The grandmother waved him away before disappearing through a beaded doorway to the kitchen beyond.

He walked back to her table, hat in hand, face set. “Mister Vu?”

“Vu Thi Lynn.” She paused. “And that’s a Miz, Mister Nguyen.”

He made a show of looking her over. Her hair in particular came in for close inspection, dyed, as it was, the hue of a fresh-pressed silver bar and molded into a spiked Mohawk. She sported a tiny black leather jacket and a pair of thin eyebrows that could fire withering disdain at fifty paces.

His shoulders were hunched, like a boxer’s. “Is this a joke?”

“What are you having difficulty processing, Mister Nguyen? That I’m young, a woman, or,” she waved at hand at his suit, “that I don’t walk around with the word ‘gangster’ tattooed on my damn forehead?”

His eyes narrowed, lips pressed together. Then the flicker of anger was gone. “Perhaps you don’t know who I am.”

“All I know is you’re late.”

Mister Nguyen placed his hat on the table and played with the large gold ring on his index finger, looking down at her with a studied grimness.

Lynn stifled a sigh at the posturing. “Look, we have business to attend to, and I was led to believe you were a businessman.” She indicated the seat opposite her. “Let’s get to work.”

He nodded, as though to himself, scanning the room as he took his seat. Appeals to business usually worked with these people, imagining, as they did, that they were part of some traditional brand of professional criminality stretching back through time to the Binh Xuyen of Saigon or the Painters and Dockers Union of Melbourne.

“We doing this here?”

She nodded. “I’ve never been here before. There are a hundred places like this in Cabramatta. Neither of us need return here again.”

He looked around the room once more and took a palmscreen out of his pocket. He mumbled into it, pressed his thumb against a pad on the front, and then pulled a thin tube from the top. It unrolled into a translucent, wafer-thin flexiscreen. Soft green icons glowed across its surface. He looked at her. “So, what’s the rush?”

“No questions, Mister Nguyen.”

He clenched his jaw. He knew he couldn’t argue with this statement of professionalism either. “The transaction will take thirty minutes to complete.”

“Thirty minutes?”

Nguyen drew a cigar from the inner pocket of his jacket, and set about clipping the end with a steel cigar cutter. “The government tracks every freewave signal going into Vietnam. Our transaction can’t be direct.” He put the cigar in his mouth, took his time lighting it with a heavy gold lighter. He snapped it shut and puffed out a thick cloud of smoke. “We relay through a few different countries first before ending up at a front factory in Laos, right near the Vietnamese border. My contact there gets word across the border to a small town on the other side: Vinh Quang.” He pointed down at the flexi-screen with the end of his cigar. “The money for the equipment—that’s easy, will only take a few minutes. Unofficially, the Australians don’t give a shit about private funds going to buy weapons for the Viet Minh. The money for people is tougher to get through clean. You know—the whole refugee thing.”

Lynn nodded. She glanced over at the government ad on the wall, red letters glowing fierce and eternal. Yeah. She knew.

Money, of course, was always an exception. Five million dollars and you and your family would be granted a ‘business residency’ in Australia. The government funneled the arrivals into Cabramatta and the nearby suburbs, very quietly, so the general public wouldn’t get too heated up about it.

The rest who arrived by boat were thrown into internment camps for a few months before being returned to Vietnam, where inevitably they ended up in Chinese prisoner-of-war camps.

Nguyen placed the cigar cutter and lighter on the scratched tabletop. “You insisted on being here when the money went through. It takes thirty minutes.”

“You know the saying,” she said, “trust everyone, but cut the cards.”

He shrugged. “Sure. I need to keep the line open, verify who I am, confirm we’re not a part of some Chinese sting operation. If we miss a call, I fail to enter a pass code, they burn the link.”

She nodded.

He puffed on his cigar like a man who believed he was in charge. “You said you wanted to move twenty million. Minus, of course, fifteen percent for my fee.”

“You told me the fee was ten percent.”

“That was before you criticized my clothes.”

“You look like a cross between a pimp and a wet echidna. I think I went easy on you.”

His eyes went hard. He glanced at her hair, opened his mouth to retort, then shook his head. “I did some asking around. Everyone has heard about you. High profile means a higher risk.”

“You didn’t even know whether I was a man or a woman before today.”

“The authorities could be observing you.”

“They’re not.”

He inhaled deeply on the cigar, blew the smoke directly into her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, felt her hand clench into a fist.

Nguyen was oblivious. “Your regular guy got done for tax evasion. I have the contacts. And you’re in a hurry.” He opened his hands and smiled. “The fee is fifteen percent.”

Lynn glanced around the room. A couple of faces were turned in her direction. She shook her head, a small shake—one that could be mistaken for Lynn trying to get the smoke out of her eyes.

She looked back at him. “I want a business residency for two families. That’s ten million. The rest goes to weapons.”

“I assume these families are on an Australian government watch list. They’ll need new identities?”

She raised an eyebrow in the universal signal for obviously.

“You know these people?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then why are you getting them out?”

“You appear to be asking questions again. Now, what did I say about that?”

He brought his hand down hard on the plastic tabletop, causing the condiments on the table to chatter. He took a deep breath. “No respect.”

Lynn sipped her tea, watching him over the lip of the glass.

He took a long drag on his cigar and returned the stare. Then he blinked away whatever he wanted to say and began manipulating the glowing symbols on the flexiscreen, whispering into it from time to time.

Unobserved, Lynn allowed herself a small smile.

Through the nanos attached to her optic nerves, the c-glyph could broadcast data and images that only she could see. Some people would have multiple freewave screens open all hours of the day. Watching the betting markets or reality television or point-of-view pornography. As a general rule, if you were in conversation with someone and their eyes glazed over, or even closed, they were finding some facile freewave feed more interesting than your company.

Lynn tended to keep her visuals uncluttered. At the moment all she had loaded up was the timestamp in glowing green numerals that appeared, to her brain, about a foot away in the top left corner of her vision.

15:33

She marked the time. Thirty minutes to Vinh Quang.

They waited. She turned and signaled the grandmother, ordered a late lunch. A soft chime sounded a few minutes later. Nguyen closed his eyes and put a finger to the c-glyph behind his left ear, listening as it whispered directly into his eardrum. He murmured a response, paused, and then mumbled again.

He opened his eyes a few seconds later. “The money for the equipment is through.”

She nodded, touched her own c-glyph, fingers against the small circle of cool steel. “Anh Dung?” She listened to the reply, nodded once.

“Everything check out?” Nguyen asked.

“Don’t worry, you’ll know if it doesn’t.”

Nguyen slurped his tea and settled into his chair, content to watch the slow burn of his cigar. The minutes stretched out. Nguyen didn’t try to engage her in conversation; the first transaction had gone through smoothly: things were going well.

Until the bell above the door tinkled again.

Two men entered. As the blinding light returned to the dusk of the room, she could see that they weren’t from around here. White men with cheap fedoras, crumpled suits, and the empty gaze of detached professionalism. Government men. They scanned the room, their eyes stopping when they found Lynn.

She held her breath, moved her hand to her belt buckle.

They walked right up to the table, removing their hats as they approached. “Mister Nguyen Van Cam?” Lynn’s hand stopped, hovering above the lip of her jeans, she breathed out slowly.

Mister Nguyen looked up. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Agent Taylor, Immigration Enforcement Agency.” He flipped out a badge featuring an Australian crest, emu and kangaroo glinting chrome in the red haze. He pointed to the man next to him. “This is Agent Baker.”

Nguyen was silent, his cigar trailing an idle string of smoke to the ceiling.

The time glowed softly at the edge of her vision.

15:51

Twelve minutes.

Buy Neon Leviathan by T.R. Napper

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REVIEW: Death of Kings by Bernard Cornwell

Death of Kings, the continuation of Uhtred of Bebbanburg’s tale is another roaring and shield-wall frenzied addition to The Saxon Chronicles. Writing that is as sharp as Wasp-Sting, dialogue that makes even the sternest of nun’s laugh, Uhtred’s band will leave you itching to read more.

“There are seasons of our lives when nothing seems to be happening, when no smoke betrays a burned town or homestead and few tears are shed for the newly dead. I have learned not to trust those times, because if the world is at peace then it means someone is planning war.”

You will I suspect, have heard of Bernard Cornwell and his phenomenal story-telling. He has written about pretty much everything, and all of it that I have read (11 books) and watched (3 Seasons of The Last Kingdom) is incredible. You’ll want to acquaint yourself with Bernard as soon as possible, and be prepared, fore as you begin your journey into Bernard’s world you will become a Saxon warrior in 9th Century Britain, or one of Arthur’s trusted warriors in 5th C Britain, or an archer for England in the 100 Year War.

Bernard is a master of writing. His pacing is perfect, his protagonists are full of charisma and inspiration, and what makes it EVEN cooler is that it is all based on real events. That’s right. This all happened! Well, most of it anyway. (Bernard has traced his lineage back to 9th C Britain and discovered an Uhtred of Bebbanburg in his family tree).

“Men do not relish the shield wall. They do not rush to death’s embrace. You look ahead and see the overlapping shields, the helmets, the glint of axes and spears and swords, and you know you must go into the reach of those blades, into the place of death, and it takes time to summon the courage, to heat the blood, to let the madness overtake caution.”

Now, Uhtred has fought for the Alfred the Great and the Saxon’s for many years, showing loyalty that many did not expect of a Saxon boy raised a Dane man. He has stayed with Alfred, desperate to reap the benefits of his position enough to amass a war band to take back his home Bebbanburg from his uncle. His continues to face this struggle alongside the reality of fighting against the hordes of Danes and other Scandinavian warriors.

Death of Kings has a different format to the previous instalments and is in turn slightly slower, but do not worry, Bernard Cornwell’s staple witty characters have many moments to shine, especially in his famous battles that he writers spectacularly. This book is full of emotional scenes between characters that have been favourites since Book 1, The Last Kingdom (which I shall review in the next month or so). Uhtred’s relationship with Alfred is one that I have appreciated much more the older I get.

“Serpent-Breath was famous…Wasp-Sting, short and lethal.”

Uhtred is a glorious character that has aged very well. He is formidable in battle and quick to anger and one of Bernard’s strongest characters. I love how he is still similar to his younger self, but has changed slightly from experiences and age. I am always on Uhtred’s side. I just wish all of the Saxon’s and Danes were too!

“Wyrd bið ful aræd.”

5/5 – Death of Kings is another magnificent instalment. And what’s even better is that Book 6 is only halfway through (so far)! Saxon’s vs Danes, Uhtred stuck in the middle, death is all around, everyone wants a piece of Britain. Storytelling at its best.

Buy Death of Kings by Bernard Cornwell

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REVIEW: Docile by K. M. Szpara

I received an uncorrected proof copy of Docile in exchange for an honest review. I would like to thank K. M. Szpara and Tor for the opportunity.

Docile is the story of Elisha. He is a young gentleman who volunteers to become a Docile to pay off his parents’ debt which is at a catastrophic amount of £3,000,000. If he had not proposed this then his mother and father would have been placed in debtors prison. A docile is essentially a slave. They become the property of the patron who pays off their debt in exchange for a set time of service. For the £3,000,000 to be cleared Elisha is to be the property of his patron for life. Most individuals who are forced into this life of slavery tend to take a drug called Dociline. It’s a drug to make the dociles obedient. It leads them to have the charisma of a robot or a zombie yet most beneficial for the takers is that they don’t really know what horrible tasks, duties or punishments are being forced upon them. It is a brainwashing drug. Elisha, having witnessed the effects of Dociline on his mother vows to refuse to take the drug, which is one of his rights. He will be completely aware of what happens to him during his time as a docile which, of course, is for the rest of his life and may not be very pleasant.

In addition to Elisha’s first-person point of view perspective, we also follow the trillionaire Dr. Alex Bishop who becomes Elisha’s patron in the first-person too. Alex is the CEO of the company that creates Dociline and wanted Elisha to be his guinea pig for a new version he is hoping to release to market. When Elisha refuses to accept the drug, as is his right, Alex is frustrated yet decides to mould him as he wishes as he owns him for life and can do with him anything he wishes… and I mean anything.

This is a queer dystopian novel that is sometimes uncomfortable to read, extremely graphic in nature, is thrilling, beautifully written and yet is often a mind-fuck and has quite a few trigger warnings to discuss. Although other reviewers have referred to this as science fiction, it never really came across that way to me as what is presented is far too close to our current reality. Some of what happens here is not that farfetched when analysing where the human race could be heading in the near future. Docile features BDSM, explicit gay and group sex scenes, torture and punishments, suicide attempts, and rape scenes sometimes from the first person point of view of the rapist. At this point, Elisha is a piece of meat that Alex uses whenever he fancies. It also presents love, friendship, family, and how people change, especially the two main characters over the length of the narrative.

Although it’s often uncomfortable to read and is probably the first novel I’ve read that has incorporated gay sex scenes that were this explicit and detailed I have to admit that Docile is a masterpiece of dystopian fiction. I’m pretty certain that I’ve read nothing like it. It was engaging and I completely lost myself in the narrative. It made me question our reality, the gravity of debt, my sexuality occasionally, and however horrid some of the actions committed by Alex were, I never really hated him. If anything I often felt sorry for him which shows Szpara’s talent to make me care about someone who I should have straight away written off as an utter bastard. It took me three days to read these 500 or so pages and the finale of this standalone novel is actually nice and fitting which was a surprise after many of the nightmare segments throughout. Docile is an exquisite, well-written and often uncomfortable mindfuck of a debut release. I’ll be following Szpara’s career closely. Recommended.

Buy Docile by K. M. Szpara

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REVIEW: The Mirror’s Truth by Michael R. Fletcher

Warning: Spoilers for Manifest Delusions book one, Beyond Redemption, included in this review.

After reading Beyond Redemption last year, I confess to a giddy anticipation of the sequel—The Mirror’s Truth. When GdM alumnus and friend Michael R. Fletcher offered me the opportunity to preview it, of course I jumped on it. It would have been crazy not to, right?

Readers of the first book will remember that it took place in a world gone mad, where the insanes’ delusions defined reality and where the more delusional you are, the more powerful you are. These powerful, deluded people are called Geisteskranken. One of the only sane people left in this deluded world, Bedeckt (an aging warrior), traveled the world with two powerful friends. First there was Stehlen the Kleptic who was a rogue beyond compare—stealing and killing whenever she wished without being caught. Bedeckt’s other companion was Wichtig the World’s Greatest Swordsman—as he told anyone within earshot. While Wichtig was very skilled with the sword, his particular Geisteskranken talent stemmed from his charisma and ability to convince his opponents that he truly was the greatest.

Our trio’s adventure revolved around kidnapping a godling to get a portion of his power and in classic grimdark style, Beyond Redemption ends with much killing and Bedeckt finds himself in the afterlife to end the book.

In The Mirror’s Truth, we open with Bedeckt finding a powerful mirrorist who somehow brings him back to the world of the living. His primary goal is to kill Morgen and thwart his plans for the world; however, Zukunft (the sexy, young female mirrorist who brought him back to life) has other plans setting him on a side mission to rescue a child in peril. Bedeckt has a soft spot for children having always lived his life by a certain set of rules (one of them being not to hurt women or children). Trusting in his mirrorist companion’s predictions, he allows himself to be diverted from his mission.

Meanwhile Morgen, knowing that Bedeckt is coming, has set both Stehlen and Wichtig on separate missions to find Bedeckt, telling them that Bedeckt abandoned them to the afterdeath and knowing that they will likely kill him for his betrayal.

The return to the world of the living is not easy for the three former friends as they soon discover that many years elapsed while they were in the afterlife, where time flows slower than in the world of the living. Wichtig, expecting to go find his young son—who is now a young man if he still lives—is devastated. For some reason, these lost-time storylines always hit my soft spot.

I really like what Fletcher did with this story as far as expanding on the divide between the three main protagonists established at the end of Beyond Redemption. I was intrigued by the way he explored all of their mixed feelings with each other, how they all made at least token efforts to move on and discovered that they had deeper bonds with each other than they were all able to admit to themselves. I particularly enjoyed that angle since self-deception is at the heart of the world that Fletcher has built in this series.

The Mirror’s Truth also introduces several more uber-powerful Geisteskranken who are near their pinnacle (the point at which their insanity peaks and they self-destruct in some way, shape or form) and provides some pretty insurmountable obstacles for our stalwart trio to overcome. One of them is a shape shifter who thinks he’s a huge dragon and enjoys dropping people and livestock from great heights—aiming of course for the other characters. Another of the three thinks she serves the earth goddess and bends the earth (mud and rock mostly) to devastating effect. Probably the most deviously clever Geisteskranken though is one who believes all people to be possessed by demons and kindly exorcises them—of course killing them in the process.

All of these well-adjusted people are on a collision course with destiny, the parallel storylines converging nicely at the end to provide an incredibly satisfying conclusion.

I found The Mirror’s Truth to be written well but still accessible. The plot moves quickly and so did I, finishing much quicker than I really wanted to. That is not a dig at Fletcher though, I had trouble putting it down once I was immersed in it. I found it refreshing that I was unable to predict the ending—something I unhappily tend to do quite often.

Fletcher definitely left room for another sequel here. But unlike the end of Beyond Redemption, where you had some theories on where it would go next, I have to confess I’m at a loss thinking of where the next storyline would go. However I will eagerly be grabbing the next installment to find out.

So, my recommendation for you is to do like Michael Fletcher or I would do and find a cozy corner and a nice bottle of whiskey to enjoy while you immerse yourself in his particular brand of insanity.

Buy The Mirror’s Truth by Michael R. Fletcher

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INTERVIEW: Justin Call

Recently, Elizabeth Tabler had a chance to interview Justin Call about his novel, Master of Sorrows. You can read our review of Master of Sorrows here.

For those who don’t know, could you start off by telling us a little bit about your new novel, Master of Sorrows?

You know, the blurb for the US cover really nailed (it also happens to have a line from your own review of the book right on the first page), so if folks have a chance to read that, they really should. I’ll assume that’s cheating, though, and say this: Master of Sorrows is about a boy who is conflicted about who and what he wants to become. It’s also a coming-of-age story set at a magic school, but those familiar fantasy tropes are also twisted and turned on their head. For example, instead of a school that instructs its students in the art of magic, the Academy in Master of Sorrows teaches its acolytes that magic is evil and must be confiscated, hoarded, and destroyed. Likewise, it starts out as a narrative about a boy hero who is prophesied to defeat the dark lord, but the reality is it’s an origin story for the dark lord himself.

That’s the series pitch, though, and that has led several eager readers to be disappointed by the first novel because the main character doesn’t become a villain by the end of the first volume of the series. Master of Sorrows also deals with a much smaller setting: the magic school, the boy and his mentor, and the ominous fate that looms for a protagonist who just wants to earn the respect of his peers and win the girl he pines after. The book takes place over about a week and all of the events occur within a relatively small setting. It’s also a bit of a “slow burn,” giving the readers plenty of time to get to know the world and its rules, and then as the plot thickens and the story escalates, everything the reader has learned becomes vital to understanding and appreciating the narrative and things start to move at the pace of a thriller. The setting is very grim, but it also has a bright thread of hope woven throughout (more Grimheart than Grimdark, perhaps). Finally, the story is intentionally written as a crossover between adult epic fantasy and YA fantasy, so you’ll find a lot of teens really gravitating towards this book despite the fact that the series as a whole is adult fiction.

Can you tell me a little bit about your journey as an author? Did you always gravitate towards writing, or did you find your way here from other interests such as gaming or reading?

I’ve always gravitated towards learning new words and telling stories since I was a little kid. I even dictated a short story for my kindergarten class that my mother typed up and I illustrated and my grandfather paid to have several copies bound into a hardback book. That sort of planted the seed that I could actually do this – make up stories and write them – and nothing I ever encountered in life has dissuaded me from that opinion. I wrote short stories in elementary school that were always much longer than whatever assignment we had been given (you might see a pattern here between that and my current writing), and I started writing my own fiction stories outside of school when I was about ten or so. I didn’t know what SFF fiction was until I was fourteen and stumbled onto it all on my own, but my interests certainly gravitated towards anything with adventure, magic, and wonder. I considered writing literary fiction when I was a student in high school, but more as a lark than as a way to make a living. I think I also knew that one day I would write a fantasy novel, because I had started writing one when I was a tween, and I played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons when I was a teenager, so developing plots, characters, and stories just felt natural. I continued studying writing in high school and college, but most of my greatest lessons in writing fiction were self-taught or came from books I read on writing. I dabbled in writing screenplays and considered doing that as my job after college, and for a long time I wasn’t sure if that was my calling or if I should instead be writing fantasy novels or designing board games. In the end, I decided to all of the above and just see what worked out for me. I had some small amounts of success in each field, but finishing the first draft of my epic fantasy novel (which would later become Master of Sorrows) was a huge confirmation that this was what I really needed to be doing. I still remain open to publishing and designing more games and writing some screenplays, but epic fantasy is where my heart lives and so it is natural that this has become my full-time job and primary career.

How was the process of writing the second novel in the series, Master Artificer, differ from writing Master of Sorrows?

I wrote Master of Sorrows over a period of about 17 years, although the bulk of the book was written in a period of about nine months. It had to be done that way (at least for me) so that I could understand the wider world I had created and so that I could do all the world building for the rest of the series up front. I also outlined several books for the series at that time (enough material for 12-18 books). Then when I finally finished my first draft of MoS, I had a lot of time to polish things for my editors and get the book in the best shape possible.

Master Artificer was much different because I already had all the groundwork laid out before I began, though that also meant I had about fifteen different outlines for the book when I initially sat down to write it. I also had a better idea of how much material would fit in book 2, but that still didn’t stop me from drafting way too much and leaving out several scenes that I had originally outlined (I’m getting better at overplanning, but I’m not there quite yet). Finishing the first draft of Master Artificer has also helped me see the overall trajectory of the series, so I can course correct for events that I have planned later in the series. Moving beyond the writing process itself, though, I can say that Master Artificer has several new character points-of-view (Master of Sorrows has basically one POV for the whole book), and the setting for Master Artificer is much, much larger.

Are there any pitfalls for writing a sequel that you fell into as a writer, how did you work around them?

I think the greatest pitfall in writing any book (outside of the writing itself) is a question of expectations. Does the reader expect a retread of the previous book (like you might see in a serial thriller) or do they want to be surprised by something that feels entirely different? Ideally the writer can present something that is both familiar and new – “surprising yet inevitable.” I’ve tried to meet those expectations by building on themes from my first book, specifically by introducing new tropes that once again seem familiar to the reader but then I twist those tropes and take them in unexpected directions.

A lot of sequels also run the risk of incurring the “sequel slump” or “sequel syndrome” where the second book feels like filler that just exists to move the protagonist between books 1 and 3 without anything meaningful occurring. I anticipated that problem when I sat down to write Master Artificer and I chose to tackle it by paying close attention to my character development. I didn’t want any characters at the end of Book 2 to feel like the same people that I had left with readers at the end of Book 1, but I also needed to make changes to those characters in ways that felt authentic and well-earned. Having that goal in mind, I can say that if you examine any character who survived Master of Sorrows and made it into Master Artificer, you will recognize that character has changed. The plot points surrounding those changes may vary in intensity or scope, but ultimately they each take the character one step farther along their arc. This is especially true of my protagonist, Annev, whose character has changed dramatically between Master of Sorrows and the end of Master Artificer.

How long is Master Artificer currently?

The first draft of Master Artificer is currently 321,957 words. For those sane, non-writing folks that don’t count the words in their books, I’ll say this: the number of words per page can vary depending on the font and formatting used by your publisher, but most people accept that 250 words per page is a fair scale to measure your page count. By that metric, Master Artificer is 1287 pages (more than twice the length of Master of Sorrows). However, Master of Sorrows was itself approximately 304 words per page, so I think that’s a better measuring stick. Using those measurements, Master Artificer would be approximately 1059 pages in length – which is still super long and almost double the size of MoS … but it’s not double the length and there will still be time for edits (which could shorten or lengthen the final novel).

How did you keep track of all the intertwining narratives and personalities? Did you keep it all in your head?

I use Scrivener to keep track of all that. When I drafted Master of Sorrows, I didn’t have Scrivener, though, so I initially created dozens of separate folders in Microsoft Word and then kept all of the drafts for each chapter within their own separate folder. This became difficult to keep track of, though (especially as story chapters got shuffled around), so I switched over to using Scrivener. Now I break my writing down into smaller chunks by first drafting all the character POVs separately (sometimes out of chronological order for the series but always in chronological order for the character). I also draft my stories in chunks or “Parts” of about 15-20 chapters or 150-175 pages. So I’ll draft all the chapters for all the characters in Part 1, then I’ll move onto Part 2, etc. It’s still mostly chronological that way, but focusing on one character POV at a time is much easier to maintain momentum, clarity, and continuity.

Are there any magic systems or mythologies that inspired you as you wrote Master of Sorrows?

Tons and tons. My master’s thesis touched on this (I wrote the first draft of Master of Sorrows as part of my thesis at Harvard), so I have a lot that I could say about it. Instead of repeating pages and pages of references, though, I’ll simply say that my inspirations have been very eclectic – from role playing games to religious texts, from classic mythologies to ones inspired by modern fantasy authors. I’ve taken a little from everyone and tried to create something wholly my own in the hopes that I can write a story that resonates with most readers without also feeling derivative.

Is there a fantasy novel that you would have liked to have written?

Honestly, no – but only because I think writing a fantasy novel is a very personal experience and know my experience would have differed greatly from the one that actually produced the novels I admire so much. I’m really happy to be writing my own books and my own stories, and I feel grateful that life has given me the opportunity to do so. Having said that, there are definitely some fantasy novels that I really admire and which I sometimes feel envious of their quality, their characters, or their substance. I love the Mistborn Era 1 trilogy, for example, and I really admire how Brandon Sanderson was able to create such a new and inventive magic system for his books. I also adore The Kingkiller Chronicles by Pat Rothfuss and I deeply respect his ability to tell such a satisfying story built on character development, worldbuilding and poetic language. I fell in love with the drow city of Menzoberranzan in the R.A. Salvatore’s Dark Elf trilogy, and I constantly find my mind returning to the mythology and pantheon of gods created by David Eddings in his Sparhawk and Belgarath books.

But I don’t wish I’d written any of those novels. Instead, I aspire to have my own novels placed amongst them.

How long did you take to write Master of Sorrows, from start to finish? I read that you wrote most of MOS on your iPhone. Is that true?

That is absolutely true. I would say at least half of the novel was written using Google docs on my iPhone while riding or waiting for public transit. The rest of it was written at my computer, the way most books are written these days. As for how long it took to write the book from start to finish, I’ll say that the first 200 pages took me about fifteen years to write because I wasn’t in any hurry and I had a lot that I wanted to learn about writing along the way. I also wasn’t writing full-time during any of those years and I spent a good deal of time working on mythology and worldbuilding. The final 400 pages of Master of Sorrows was written in about nine months, though, and then I spent another year or two revising everything I had written. I did it all that way because I have a hard time allowing myself to fail at anything, so I chose to spend my time writing one good book over a long period of time (and learning a lot from it) instead of writing several bad books over an equally long period of time. In the end, we all have to put in our writing hours, but some (like Brandon Sanderson) choose to do it by writing lots of stories in succession until they are good enough to publish. Others (like myself and perhaps Patrick Rothfuss or JRR Tolkien), spend a lot of time working and reworking a single story until that story is good enough to share with others. Having done that, I can say it was a profitable experience … but it’s also not one I care to repeat since I’d like to publish at least one book or short story every year. Once my children are both in school, perhaps I can even write two or three books a year (though I doubt I’ll ever be able to match Brandon Sanderson’s prolific writing pace).

You are the President and CEO of Broomstick Monkey Games, how do you balance writing with game creation? Does the imagination for writing both come from the same place or is the creative process different?

Creating games and writing stories are very different beasts, though they also have large areas where they overlap. Designing magic systems for my novels, for example, feels very similar to developing a game system for my board games. You spend a lot of time thinking about mechanics and balance, how clear the rules are and how intuitive they will be for readers/players to learn. On the other hand, game design and development is very iterative. You try one thing and see if it works. Usually some part of it works but another part breaks down, so you try something different and try to find different ways to solve the problems with the game. One of the easiest ways to solve those problems is by adding more and more rules to cover more and more exceptions, but that just creates an unnecessarily complicated, bloated game. A much better solution is to find some way to cut out rules – to remove ambiguity and improve clarity by using less instead of more. That creates a more elegant game system and it is largely the same process one must follow when writing a story: you write a first draft (a prototype) and identify where the story (or game) breaks down; you find solutions to those problems and fix them (or you think you’ve fixed them) and keep making small adjustments until you are happy with the final product. Then you need to introduce your story (or game) to some respected beta readers (or game testers) and adjust things based on their feedback. The biggest difference between the two processes, though, is that building and designing a board game necessarily involves the cooperation of others. You will playtest that game with your close friends and family and make a hundred adjustments, and then you’ll playtest it with a mixed group of friends strangers and make more changes, and then you’ll share it with some total strangers and ask them to do a blind playtest using only the rulebook and no input from you whatsoever. That means there is a LOT of interaction with other people, which is then balanced by the solitary activity of going home to edit your rules, reprint cards, and make a revised prototype for your next playtesting session. When you write a book, though, you don’t get to experience it with the reader. They read on their own (usually alone) and you’re lucky if you get any feedback (constructive or otherwise). When you sit down to write the book, you do so in a void where no one else understands the world you are making and no one can really offer you any help or advice. Even if you attend a writing group and share your story there, it’s just not the same experience. Game development, as a rule, is a social activity, whereas writing is a solitary one.

What are you reading right now?

I’m currently listening to The Blinding Knife on Audible, which is the second novel in The Lightbringer Series by Brent Weeks (I do most of my reading via audiobook since I can do that while driving or doing house chores). I’ve also got a copy of Kingdom of Liars by Nick Martell that I’ve been trying to read for weeks but I’ve been unable to do so while wrapping up my first draft for Master Artificer, and I have an ebook for Neon Leviathan by T.R. Napper that I’m trying to get to as well.

Thank you for taking the time to answer our questions today. GDM.

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REVIEW: The Whale Road by Robert Low

The Whale Road is a fearsome tale of a band of vikings hunting relics, drinking hard and fighting harder. Robert Low is another of the Norse-period writers on my favourite shelf.

“By Odin’s Hairy Arse!”

Robert Low has crafted a wonderful story of a Norse band sailing the whale road here. It is full to the brim of the sea-chest with authentic language, sayings, the imaginable harsh environment, the rough characters, and one that made me laugh every time I read “by Odin’s Hairy Arse!”

Orm Rurikson is a young Norse raider in training and is quickly inducted into the ways of the Oathsworn, the band who sail the seas aboard the Fjord Elk. The Oathsworn are a band of sell-swords and The Whale Road is the first part of Orm’s story within the war band. The Oathsworn – in a time of the White Christ growing in popularity – have been paid to find the sword of Attila the Hun and his infamous hoard of gold and silver.

“We were still on the whale road, in the wind that keened and thrummed the ropes.”

A short book at only 340 pages, The Whale Road is ram-packed with action, bloody fights, and shield-walls. There aren’t many moments to pause for breath as Orm is thrust into the new-world of relic hunting. Orm is a solid character and was well-written, with plenty of humorous and enjoyable interactions between him and the rest of the Oathsworn (well…those that last). Robert Low certainly has a way of keeping you guessing what is going to happen next and indeed, who is going to be slain next. The Oathsworn were the best part of this story, full of fun and dry humour. The audible narrator also did a cracking job.

It is hard to find a truly fantastic Viking-period novel, with Bernard Cornwell and Giles Kristian wearing the crowns at the moment. Robert Low’s promising debut of The Whale Road certainly is treading the same path, with great characters and plenty of gritty action. I just wanted more! I will most certainly continue with the series and look forward to seeing where Orm sails to next.

“Strange how we had longed for the feel and smell of land when afloat and now longed for the touch of ship and spray now that we were ashore.”

4/5 – A stormy tale of Vikings at sea, with enough hack silver and hacking off limbs to make every Norse-lover smile. Robert Low’s Oathsworn starts with a mighty shield-wall bang and bearded warriors that say all sorts of profanities. For lovers of Bernard Cornwell and Giles Kristian, check this out!

Buy The Whale Road by Robert Low

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