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REVIEW: The Last Vigilant by Mark A. Latham

I know that for some of us, epic fantasy has never left, but The Last Vigilant by Mark A. Latham might suggest that, for traditional publishing, epic fantasy is back. I’ve shoved the cover of this under lots of people’s noses, and everyone has oohed and aahed. It reminds me of the fantasy covers of about twenty or so years ago, where I’d walk into a book shop and see something like this and go ‘Yeah, that’s my thing’. The Last Vigilant gave me that feeling, so even though I’ve never read a single Latham book, I started this with the sense that I was about to embark on a similarly excellent epic. That is precisely what Mark Latham delivers. Bravo, Sir! If you can imagine the book baby of John Gwynne and Richard Swan, it would probably be this: a new fantasy world with a decent magic system, first-rate plot, brilliant fights, and a puzzling mystery. The Last Vigilant isn’t just my cup of tea, it’s my whole darn pot.

“I am the seeker after the truth. I am the voice of the meek. I am the sword of justice. I am the healer of the cursed. I am the watcher against darkness. I am everywhere and nowhere. I am everyone and no one. The gods made me, the gods protect me, and the gods will one day take me. – Taken from The Vigilant Oath.”

The last vigilant of the title, Enelda Drake (aka the lady Gandalf on the cover), is the final member of an ancient and powerful order, the Vigilants. The old order was disbanded, and Enelda has been living in solitude for decades, all but forgotten about until the child of a powerful ally goes missing. War will follow if he is not found, and Holt Hawley, an outcast soldier, is sent to find this last vigilant and make them help with the search for the boy. No one expects Hawley to succeed. It is a fool’s errand meant to embarrass him further. But Hawley does find this fabled vigilant. Enelda is old, out of practice, and doesn’t look very much like the living legend he was expecting. But together they might overcome the corruption and scheming surrounding them to find the boy and avoid another all-out war.

So, to get it out of the way, in terms of grimdark-ness, I don’t think The Last Vigilant will score highly on the grimdark-o-nometer. There is a dark magic system, a fair amount of dark and twisty goings on, some of which are pretty violent and upsetting, particularly when they happen to children, but we know who the goodies are and who the baddies are. Hawley, for example, is not morally grey; he is a good man wracked with guilt about a bad thing that he did for what he thought were the right reasons. Complicated, but not a grimdark anti-hero. Enelda swore an oath to protect. She is very clearly the good guy, who may or may not have experience with necromancy like magic. Latham is quite David Gemmell-esque in that the characters we are meant to dislike sneer or swagger and are generally rather unlikeable. But that does not in any way detract from the fact that I really liked this book.

The mystery plot of The Last Vigilant was a great literary puzzle. A hard one with lots of similar pieces. You like it, and you try to work out what goes where. But then you realise you messed it up and put something in the wrong place, and you must shimmy things around. I was like Hawley as the whole thing progressed, trying to work out the whodunnit elements and often not getting it right. That plot weaves in with the history of the vigilant order, the world Latham has built, and the political shenanigans. Honestly, I don’t think I have a criticism of The Last Vigilant, other than it might not be the darkest of dark epic fantasy out there.

This is a terrific new world, and as a new reader of Mark A. Latham’s novels, The Last Vigilant was a fantastic first impression. Also, because I enjoy a well-written fight scene, those particular moments in the book were very good. I get the distinct impression that (like John Gwynne) Latham may be a bit of a history buff. He knows his swords and how to swing them, which makes for excellent reading.

I am excited to continue this trilogy and think it might become a firm favourite. Thank you to Mark A. Latham and the Orbit team for sending us a copy of The Last Vigilant.

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REVIEW: Bring Her Back (2025)

Bring Her Back is the Philippou Brothers’ directorial follow up to their hit debut, Talk to Me (2022), which was one of my favourites from that year. Like their debut, Bring Her Back is a contemporary supernatural horror flick set in Australia. Where the earlier Talk to Me had teenagers using a cursed hand to speak to spirits, Bring Her Back has a more obtuse concept that is slowly drip-fed to the audience (which I shan’t spoil here) as the film progresses. It focusses on two step-siblings (Billy Barratt and Sora Wong) integrating into the home of their new foster mother (Sally Hawkins) and foster brother (Jonah Wren Phillips) where it soon becomes apparent that things are not what they seem. 

The Philippou Brothers have an impressive directorial talent to produce great performances from young actors. In Bring Her Back, they rely heavily on Sora Wong (14) and Jonah Wren Phillips (12) and much of the story in their Talk to Me deals with Joe Bird (14 or 15). Sora Wong, in particular, as a visually impaired actress in her first acting role was really impressive. They also have the skills to craft visually appealing horror movies. It’s a modern approach to visuals (no doubt honed on their YouTube channel), so don’t expect Halloween or The Shining. Importantly, they have a knack for genuinely distressing moments – for those who have seen Talk to Me, you know what scene I’m talking about – and jump scares that I, as a jump scare hater, think are well-earned. 

Much like their previous film, the throughline of Bring Her Back is grief and unhealthy coping mechanisms. The evil in Talk to Me is supernatural, albeit used as a metaphor for addiction; in contrast, much of the evil in Bring Her Back is human and all the more affecting as a result. Sally Hawkins (The Shape of Water; Blue Jasmine), in particular, is such a recognisable, everyday type of evil. It has stuck with me. Which isn’t to say the supernatural horror is lacklustre – it isn’t – but I’ll leave it with you to watch and find out what is going on.  

All in all, Bring Her Back is a great follow up for the Philippou Brothers. If you liked their debut, you should enjoy this one just as much. If I have one critique, it’s that it could have felt more Australian!

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REVIEW: To Touch a Silent Fury by R. A. Sandpiper

When I tell you that To Touch a Silent Fury had me in an absolute chokehold, I mean that I burned through 300+ pages in a single day, stayed up too late to finish it, and then (lovingly) cursed R.A. Sandpiper for the brutal emotional rollercoaster that she just put me through. This is just peak slow-burn, dark, epic romantic fantasy, and more than that, it’s exactly the type of book that makes me remember why I fell in love with reading in the first place.

“How much of a threat could one girl really be?”

Earlier this year, I had an absolute blast as I devoured the Amefyre trilogy, but as soon as I started To Touch a Silent Fury, I realised that Sandpiper had just stepped up her game in every way possible. Sure, it took me about 50 or so pages to find my footing and get a decent grasp on the intricate world building with its countries and magic inspired by the five senses of Touch, Taste, Sound, Sight and Scent, but the level of overwhelm was vastly outweighed by my sense of intrigue, awe, and dangerously addictive excitement.

More than that, I just instantly fell head over heels in love with Tani(dwen) and Lang(nadin), and I loved getting transported into this dark and mystical fantasy world through their eyes. She is an outcast among outcasts as the only woman in the Moontouched Brotherhood on the remote island of Eavenfold, he is an insubordinate Crown Prince bonded to one of the last dragons left in the world. Their paths never should have crossed, but when Tani is bestowed a Marriage Fate during her Fate Ceremony that forces her to marry the victor of the upcoming tournament, Lang decides he will do anything to prevent her from claiming her Fate and reaching her full Touch magic powers.

“I was flying towards my Fate, whether I liked it or not. And flying right along with me was the man I had to force to marry me somehow. It was unfathomable, all of it. And yet, soaring on dragonback, it all felt possible.”

And that, my friends, only covers the first of the four parts that make up To Touch a Silent Fury. This story just kept zigging whenever I expected it to zag, going places that I never saw coming, and I was so here for the entire wild ride. I mean, it definitely has some familiar tropes like a mind-link dragon bond à la Fourth Wing (I LOVE my babes Chaethor and Hanin), a hidden identity cat-and-mouse dynamic reminiscent of The Crimson Moth, and political/court intrigue and family drama on a House of the Dragon/ASOIAF level, but it’s all just executed in a really strong and refreshing way.

Not to mention the clever ways that Sandpiper plays around with the concept of destiny and fate, both on an individual level and on a romantic level with one of the most unique spins on a marriage of convenience/fated mates-esque dynamic. Both Tani and Lang are shackled by their duties and the expectations that society has placed upon them, but I really appreciated that they didn’t meekly follow the path carved out for them. In fact, they have to be some of the most complicated, determined, mature, intense (like, hello, my tortured man Lang has such a flair for the dramatic), vulnerable, messy, dangerously powerful and emotionally complex characters I have read in an epic romantic fantasy, and I only loved them more and more as their layers were slowly peeled back.

Also, THE TENSION BETWEEN THESE TWO!!! They (should) hate each other but they truly can’t deny that they secretly respect each other, and then they also desperately need each other for their own selfish ends and just can’t stop themselves from pushing each other’s buttons every time they interact even when they know oh so well that they are playing with fire… in other words, they really had me going through it, and I love them all the more for it. I mean, sometimes I didn’t know if they or I were more confused by their inexplicable contradictory feelings and actions, but somehow that made them and their dynamic all the more realistic, compelling and irresistibly entertaining to me.

““How could I forget a face like yours?” he asked. “Your beauty has haunted me for years. Did you think I would not know you in a breath, in a moment, at a glance?””

Now, I am sure that there are aspects of this story that you could nitpick or poke holes through if you wanted, but Tani and Lang’s strong first person perspectives combined with Sandpiper’s smooth and evocative prose had me SO deeply immersed and invested that I honestly did not see or care about any flaws if they were even there. And whereas the Amefyre series might have had some pacing issues and felt a bit rushed for me in places, I think To Touch a Silent Fury is just a perfectly executed slow-burn that just masterfully builds in stakes and tension with each new chapter. 

My personal favourite parts were probably the survival vibes with Tani (and SHADOW!) in the treacherous forests of the Soundlands and all the ballroom/dance scenes and court intrigue at Lang’s home of the Sightlands’ royal court, but then there truly was not a single moment of this 500 page beauty of a book that didn’t have me on the edge of my seat. And do not get me started on the emotional whiplash of the last 100 pages, all building up to an absolute gut punch of an ending that just hurt oh so good.

“We stared at each other again, then. The Sightlander and the Touchlander. The Dragon Prince and the Moontouched Girl. The Prince and the Fugitive. We would always be on two different sides of this world, and I was a fool to think otherwise.”

If you like your epic romantic fantasy in the vein of Penn Cole’s Kindred’s Curse Saga, Rosaria Munda’s Aurelian Cyle or Samantha Shannon’s The Priory of the Orange Tree, then To Touch a Silent Fury is the book for you. But heck, even if you think you don’t enjoy romance in your fantasy and just want a damn good dark fantasy adventure full of dragons, wyverns, schemes, intrigue, and bursts of pulse-pounding action, then this is also the book for you. The Bride of Eavenfold duology truly could not have started off stronger, and my desperate desire for the second book honestly burns hotter than dragon fire. Cue the book hangover…

Thank you to the author for providing me with an eARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own. To Touch a Silent Fury is scheduled for release on September 5th, 2025.

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REVIEW: Katabasis by R.F. Kuang

R.F. Kuang first teased readers back in 2023 with the announcement of her first love story. Come 2025, it has reached the top of countless anticipated reads lists (including ours here at Grimdark Magazine), and has received an immense amount of acclaim already. Katabasis is the story of two PhD students who travel to hell with the sole purpose of rescuing the soul of their advisor, Professor Jacob Grimes, who exploded in a freak magical accident that may or may not have been one of the post-grads’ fault. However, it’s not remorse that leads Alice Law to making this journey. Why must they descend into the pits of literal hell to save their thesis advisor, you may ask? So that he can write them job recommendation letters, of course. In traversing the eight courts of hell, Alice Law and Peter Murdoch encounter time-hardened souls awaiting divine judgement, spindly blood-thirsty bone creatures, a duo of even blood-thirstier magicians, and plenty more infernal offerings, in order to save Grimes’ soul. 

Alice Law is insufferable. She is a complicated and dizzying character, whose motivation is so questionable that you simply cannot seem to reason with her. Kuang has an acute talent for creating unlikable characters that you still desperately want to root for. Katabasis is a masterful character study on a woman whose lust for knowledge is so prominent and so overpowering it leads her to betraying her own morals in the process. Alongside her, you have Peter Murdoch, who felt less like a love interest and more like a mirror of reflection for Alice, in later understanding that Cambridge, the institute they so deeply internalised as their ultimate means of success, is actually one that will not hold them as dear as they hoped; and one certainly not worth travelling through hell for. At its heart, Katabasis reads like a self-cleansing ritual for those in academia; post-grads go through hell (literally), and the only people you can count on are the comrades you’ve built allegiances with during the course of your studies. 

The magic system is spectacularly unique. Whilst you have the generic use of ‘magick’ through pentagrams and spells, it is through the use of chalk that the magic is given life to. This discipline of magic revolves around paradoxes, algebra, philosophy and theorems, which Kuang does try to explain, but the dense descriptions often take readers away from the story, leaving you slightly perturbed. However, the concept is enough to keep you intrigued, and I wish we spent more time exploring the use of different types of magic, rather than hearing about the history behind each spell.

The amount of research gone into this is unbelievable, and truly a feat from Kuang. I felt, however, that much of it simply was not needed. Kuang would often reference concepts in passing that never quite build towards the storyline or even aid in piecing together the backstories for the characters. Oftentimes, it read like a source book, which generally felt quite jarring to read. I personally think these references would have worked great as footnotes, like Kuang used in Babel. It would have made the novel flow a lot easier, and feel less stilted with bouts of information that simply wasn’t needed. Thankfully, the book picks up in the second half, and we begin learning more about the motivations behind each character, as well as witness actual action taking place in the underworld. This turn in action is also where the most grimdark elements jump out at readers, from corrupt magicians to pentagrams for death traps; Katabasis is grimdark in both it’s characters’ morals and the actions that follow. 

For readers who are looking for a romance – look away! Whilst the novel certainly alludes to a romantic history between Alice and Peter, it is simply a thread within a very dense story. It won’t be enough to keep you tethered, if romance is all you’re expecting. Instead, jump into the story with a careful caution, and you may really quite enjoy your time in this descent into the underworld. 

All in all, Katabasis is deeply reflective and challenging. It will appeal to some readers, particularly those who have felt the acute infernal environment of post-graduate academia; and I expect those who it does appeal to will love it wholeheartedly. The ending feels resolved in a very unexpected way; which is one of Kuang’s greatest talents. For anyone that knows me, knows that I’m a sucker for an R.F. Kuang book, and whilst my expectations were not met here, they will certainly not be lowered for any more of her releases. Kuang is a force, and one that will continue to take us by storm. I am eager to get swept up in more of her worlds. 

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REVIEW: Lies of P

Lies of P by Neowiz, Round8 Studios, and Rough is a Souls-like game in the vein (no pun intended) of Bloodborne. The premise is an odd one that immediately caught my attention: what if Pinocchio was a steampunk dark fantasy? It’s such an out-there premise that I didn’t initially check the game out, which proved to be a mistake. I was a huge fan of Bloodborne and it was one of my all-time favorite games by the time I finished it. 

I ended up choosing to play Lies of P because I’d heard it was the game most like Bloodborne. Is it? I’d argue it’s the only game I’ve played in about five years that can compare. It is dark, well-designed, full of wonderful characters, and possessed of a fascinating story that I became fully engrossed in. The game also has an amazing soundtrack with beautiful orchestra and vocal pieces that I bought the mp3s for. The game designers knew just how awesome the music was since it has the option of playing them in the background of the game’s hub.

The premise is, as stated, a variation on the classic Pinocchio story but with a few million twists. In this version, Pinocchio AKA P is a puppet (steampunk robot) that is brought to life by the blue-haired psychic, Sophia. Sophia reveals that you live in the automated city of Krat that is a little bit of every part of Europe. Until recently, it was a shining utopia of science and alchemy with the populace living privileged lives. Unfortunately, the puppets have all risen up and started massacring the human population. P must rescue his and every other puppet’s creator, Geppetto, and put an end to the crisis. But are renegade robots the only problem in the city? No, no, they are not.

What follows is a story of P gradually uncovering the complicated plots going on behind the scenes before Krat’s downfall. This includes the sinister Alchemists cult, the local religion, the Stalkers sect, and the billionaire industrialist Venigni. The city is a beautiful creation of Old World styles that has fallen into a state of decay but still holds signs of its former beauty. The enemies are incredibly well-designed, and the environments are both fun as well as beautiful to look upon.

Gameplay wise, it’s very similar to other Souls games with Bloodborne the most similar but has a far bigger focus on parrying than dodging. P has a cybernetic arm that can be modified to have special abilities but will be needing to block or parry enemy attacks if he wants to survive against any of the bosses. The dodge rolls in the game are much shorter than most so there’s no point in trying to get out of the way unless you are fighting very specific enemies. Crafting plays a role in the game that is greater than other Souls-likes as you have the option of mixing and matching the various weapons.

Does Lies of P have any flaws? Perhaps a little too much of the challenge is nerfed by the difficulty options but greater accessibility has been something that many gamers consider a feature rather than a bug. The experience for Lies of P is also a lot more linear than Bloodborne or Elden Ring. Still, I think the game is a fantastic experience overall and surprisingly dark. Lies of P has themes of body horror, oppression, and surprising amounts of moral ambiguity as the society of Krat was clearly papering over a large amount of its issues before things went to hell.

Lies of P: Overture is the DLC expansion for the game and I think a fantastic game in its own right. P is transported back into the past by one of the Stargazer devices that can teleport him around and has a chance to save two of the people who might prevent the disaster that befell Krat. The difficulty spike for the game is something that I had to struggle with a bit but eventually managed to overcome. I also came to love the characters of Lea and Arlecchino almost as much as Sophia and Eugenie from the main game.

In short, this is a great game, and fans of dark fantasy will absolutely love it. If you enjoyed Bloodborne or Elden Ring then you’ll almost certainly love Lies of P. It has its very own identity, though, and I feel that is something that needs emphasizing. The fact it does have a “Very Easy” and “Easy” mode means that people who can’t do regular Souls games will also be able to experience this one’s story in its entirety.

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REVIEW: The Fallen & the Kiss of Dusk by Carissa Broadbent

The Fallen & the Kiss of Dusk is, in Broadbent’s own words, ‘a big, epic, wild ride’, and I think that pretty much sums it up. On paper, this conclusion to The Shadowborn Duet features all the high stakes action, cutthroat intrigue, delicious angst, brutal sacrifices, and intense emotional turmoil that you’d expect from a top-tier dark fantasy romance, yet the execution just left me a bit… whelmed?

Now, The Songbird & the Heart of Stone was my personal favourite book in the Crowns of Nyaxia series so far, and the diabolical cliffhanger at the end had me absolutely dying to see the continuation of Mische and Asar’s journey in The Fallen & the Kiss of Dusk. I mean, we’ve got a world full of vampires thrust into eternal night, an impending war between the gods, the underworld teetering on the brink of collapse, and two lovers now trapped on opposite sides of the veil who are ready to go to hell and back to reunite. In other words, cue the chaos.

Again, this book really had a lot of potential to become a new favourite for me. First of all, I am always a sucker for a good dual POV storytelling structure, especially when it comes to stories involving romance, yet the addition of Asar’s perspective in The Fallen & the Kiss of Dusk did not really live up to my expectations. Yes, I loved getting to know him more intimately as we unravel his tragic past and get to see just how deeply, madly in love he is with his woman Mische, but for some reason I just never connected with him on an emotional level.

Moreover, I found Mische and Asar’s motivations and actions quite incomprehensible and frustrating in this instalment, not least because they both have the biggest martyr complex ever. And even though their backgrounds and current circumstances are so different, I had a really hard time finding any distinction between their voices. To me, both of their perspectives lacked a true emotional core and a strong personality (like, who even is this Mische? where is the quirky girl we met in the first duet?!), which made it really hard to get invested in their romance and all the life-or-death conflicts that they seem to attract like a magnet.

And holy smokes, are there some big conflicts going down in The Fallen & the Kiss of Dusk. Similarly to the set-up of the previous instalments in this series, this book is separated into six distinct parts, with each part bringing a new trial for these characters that is more dangerous and deadly than the last. On the one hand, this resulted in a breakneck pacing that makes this book dangerously addictive and effortlessly readable, as there is truly not a single dull moment to be found.

Yet on the other hand, it made the romance feel hollow to me as there was no room for quiet moments of genuine connection (and this was not helped by the fact that they are either whining about not being able to bang or actually having an intense bang session that could crumble mountains every time they do get a little moment together). Also, it all just felt a bit too repetitive to me, and I personally just got so damn exhausted by all the non-stop action and the over-the-top drama of it all. Oh and for the love of all that is holy, can we get more cutthroat vampire shenanigans and less annoyingly petty gods, please and thank you?

All that is not to say that I am not impressed with Broadbent’s ambitious vision for the larger Crowns of Nyaxia series, though. The epic world building is so rich, the divine lore is masterfully intertwined with the characters’ personal journeys, the exploration of trauma, religion, morality and mortality is quite beautiful, and the progression of the overarching plot of the series is way more complex than I had ever anticipated. Also, I really loved seeing so many familiar faces from both The Nightborn Duet and the standalones Six Scorched Roses and Slaying the Vampire Conqueror (which I all highly recommend reading beforehand) popping up and playing an important part in the story here; hell, they might even have outshone the actual protagonists of the story for me.

Maybe I went into this with too high expectations or maybe it was just a case of ‘wrong book, wrong mood, wrong timing’, but I ultimately wanted to love The Fallen & the Kiss of Dusk a lot more than I did. Still, I think there is no denying that Broadbent deserves to hold the crown as one of the best and biggest names in epic, dark romantasy right now, and the ominous epilogue left me more than eager to return for the continuation of the Crowns of Nyaxia series in the next duet.

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REVIEW: We Are Always Tender with Our Dead by Eric LaRocca

The town of Burnt Sparrow, setting for a new trilogy from Eric LaRocca and starting with We are Always Tender with our Dead, is a cursed place that doesn’t let go. Much like the townsfolk stuck there, you’ll find yourself returning to Burnt Sparrow long after you’ve put down the book. This is a queer, literary horror with hints of the speculative hidden in the shadows, and there are shadows aplenty.

With the occasional diary entry, news article or blog post revealing additional aspects of the mystery surrounding Burnt Sparrow, We are Always Tender with our Dead is primarily told through the experiences of 17-years old Rupert Cromwell, a boy whose mother died years ago and whose father is a frightening oddity to him. More than anything We are Always Tender with our Dead is a story about thresholds, and as Rupert teeters on the threshold to adulthood he finds it difficult to relate to the men of Burnt Sparrow and struggles to understand how he is supposed to become a man, when he is so unlike those around him. Rupert is gay and finds the men of the town to largely be destructive and cruel, at best, indifferent to the pain of others.

This indifference is highlighted through the tragedy that has struck Burnt Sparrow, a Christmas day massacre on the main street of the town. The dead are left where they lie, a decision made by the town elders for reasons they keep to themselves. Rupert and his father are among those employed to guard the dead, which exposes deeper differences between them and begins to validate Rupert’s nihilistic tendencies.

“There’s nothing in this world that has meaning or shares any value. I’ve already been taught that human life holds no significance. It’s sad to think how a corpse is very often worth more than a living thing. At least there’s some value left in a dead body, however little, however insignificant. But what becomes of us when even the dead have little meaning?”

Besides thresholds hidden throughout, We are Always Tender with our Dead also makes a salient point about the widespread desensitisation to violence and tragedy in our society. Not least with its content and how it is presented, and in what order. If the massacre of 100 people, left to rot in the street, doesn’t move you, which of the many acts of violence that follow will? Which aspects of this story will you select to be outraged by?

The inclusion of – literal – nameless, faceless enemies within the town may seem a bit on-the-nose but, like everything in this book, LaRocca is making a point with the portrayal of the alleged perpetrators of the town’s massacre. Though it is all rather conveniently managed by the, I suspect, old-god entangled, purple-clad town elders. Another commentary on Western society?

This book comes with a fairly comprehensive content warning list in an opening author’s note, and, as LaRocca suggests, if any of those warnings concern you, don’t read the book. There is a lot of subtlety in We are Always Tender with our Dead that is disguised beneath the violence, you have to be willing to be challenged and willing to think beyond your immediate reactions to get to it. A lot of hints at the wider forces at work in Burnt Sparrow are included but that is a payoff that does not come with answers in this installment. This is a queer, literary horror, coming-of-age tale in a corrupt/ed small town with supernatural undercurrents running through it. It is also a commentary on the acceptability of violence in our society. Some parts will crinkle your nose, others your mind.

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REVIEW: System Preference by Ugo Bienvenu

From creator Ugo Bienvenu for Titan Comics, System Preference is a dystopian sci-fi tale in a bright but difficult future for humanity. With data storage at a premium in a world filled with an obsession for social media, historical treasures are being deleted to create space for holiday photos. One man takes it upon himself to illegally save cultural treasures in his robot surrogate.

System Preference does what good sci-fi is meant to do. It questions what makes us human and what is important about life. An archivist, Yves, looks like he has a great life. He is married to a beautiful woman, working for a powerful company, and his unborn child is currently being cared for by his loyal robot surrogate carrier called Mikki. However, Yves risks it all to save cultural treasures (such as 2001: A Space Odyssey) and store them in his robot so that such information isn’t lost as his company wipe clean such media in an attempt to store space in a world where people are more focused on having the space to store their holiday photos and social media videos. It reminded me a lot of a less action-based Equilibrium as Yves acts as Christian Bale here and tries to keep secrets from his bosses in order to preserve what he feels is important for humanity. Yves has a child on the way, a wife already angry with the risks he is taking, and he is aware of monitoring at work but yet he still feels it’s important to save such media to make sure humanity can learn from the messages in these stories which he feels is vital.

The artwork in System Preference is beautiful with the sci-fi world brought to life with stunning colours and vivid detail on par with other great graphic novels such as Low, and Y: The Last Man. A Netflix adaption in a similar manner to the brilliant Scavengers Reign would work perfectly with this world and there is so much scope for more. The story questions the overabundance of media we currently have available and the ease with which content can be created – does such a world lead to a lack of connection and a lack of meaning within such work? If we don’t value the effort placed into art then what will happen to us? How does this further disrupt the connections we have with other humans, especially as we begin to rely more of technology as Yves and his wife do with their robot surrogate. It’s a timely story as we further question the use of AI in creative mediums. The tension ramps up in the story as the world closes in on Yves and the stunningly dark but beautiful ending has left me wanting more. There is more to come with this stunning sci-fi tale and I’m sure, like the greatest sci-fi, this story is one that we want to keep in our memory for a long time.

System Preference is a brilliant dystopian sci-fi cautionary tale about what makes us human. It takes a good look at humanity as we are and the path that we are on as it questions what will be important to us in the future. A stunning tale and one that sci-fi fans should not miss!

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REVIEW: It’s Not a Cult by Joey Batey

It’s been a while since I’ve read a horror book, but when I saw that Joey Batey–the brilliant actor behind Jasker in Netflix’s The Witcher–was the author, I knew I had to give it a go. It’s Not a Cult is a morose, cold, at-times darkly funny, brutal commentary on when fandom goes too far. It’s a story of losing control of the story, even when the story is one you came up with, of balancing fame with safety, of creating and the risk of creation. And with Batey at the helm–one of the few living authors who can write from this position of actual understanding of the fandom–it feels like a gleeful exploration of the worst possible scenario.

In It’s Not a Cult Alice is the drummer and videographer for a small, unnamed, unheralded band who write and make music about the Solkats, a series of gods who pull the strings of humanity behind the scenes. In their band the tortured writer Callum comes up with new Cycles about the Solkats, telling their stories like a dark fantasy novellist, and Mel, a camera-loving and somewhat mysterious singer, brings them to life at the front of their band. They are weird, and different, and generally widely ignored by the people at the dingy pubs they play at in the hope a few of their small following might show up. Until one evening one of their fellow musicians is severely beaten at one of their gigs and, for the first time, Alice sees shady creatures amongst the fanbase, pushing them to violence and mischief. And then, the band is no longer obscure, or unknown, and the madness of rabid internet fame lands.

At its core, It’s Not a Cult is a story about the most terrifying fandom in music. It’s a commentary on how scary the internet can be for the average person who finds fame, and what it must feel like to one moment to be basking in the glory of finally being understood and appreciated after all the years of unseen grind, and the next moment, be terrified of your own fans. While this is obviously a ramped-up-to-1,000 version of that theme, I can’t help but feel that with Batey’s ascension to acting fame in one of the most ravenous fan bases on the planet–fantasy–that every fear penned is loosely based on a lived experience of he or one of his co-stars.

The two key points of view to the story look at fandom from opposite directions. Alice views the world and the experience of the band through the viewfinder of a camera, an interesting, introverted character who finds herself ripped from her comfort drummer and videographer role and put in the backdrop of the most explosively viral band on the planet. Kaylee is a relatively middling YouTuber one day, and then she discovers the band, finds the secrets behind the words (even those the band didn’t intend to exist) and finds herself at the front of the wave of crazed fandom baying for the next Cycle, trying to find the band’s next hidden gig, and obsessing over every line and lyric with her followers.

Batey has done really well to take this concept and run with it. The author takes us through this eerie ride that begins with hooded figures and stolen data cards in dingy bars, and grows as our characters do. The band is forced from the comfort of being all-but-anonymous performers as shadowy figures and a rabid fanbase grow their fame and weaponise it. They must face their own needs and desires for creativity and performance as they begin to conflict with their fear and the greed of those around them (greed for money, attention, and leadership). This is where I found It’s Not a Cult the most interesting–looking into how the band change over time as the fame rises. Seeing how Alice, Callum, and Mel change as their fascade of not caring about success so they can just create is prodded and pulled and torn.

Finally, we need to talk about the Solkats. With names like Yem, the Mother, Solkat of Empty Beds; and Scran, Solkat of Bar Tabs, Reckonings, and Squander; Hockle, the Antecedent, Solkat of Spit and Nervous Moments; Bizen, the Witch and Solkat of Children’s Lies; and the great Whisht, Solkat of Red Wine Stains and Noise, the mysterious, mischievous gods of Callum’s Cycles are a little silly, a little dangerous, and a very awesome way to underpin the creepier side of the novel. With Alice being your viewpoint into seeing the Solkats, we see the way they have impact on the world and on the fandom. And through the Cycles and the way humanity has worshipped for millennia, we know that gods and their followers demand sacrifice.

It’s Not a Cult is an incredibly fun read. It’s morose, funny at times, interesting, engaging, sad, and keeps prodding at the part of my mind that sees the worst of what viral fandom can be. I really enjoyed it and am glad I stepped out of my SFF wheelhouse. Joey Batey has pulled another arrow out of his creative quiver and hit a bullseye.

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REVIEW: The Knight and the Moth by Rachel Gillig

The Knight and the Moth, the latest dark fantasy from Rachel Gillig, has been everywhere I look on bookish social media for months. It has a beautiful and intriguing cover, and my interest was certainly piqued. However, this wasn’t my first experience reading Gillig. I have previously read her debut novel, One Dark Window, and although I thought it was okay overall, that read didn’t blow me away, and the sequel never seems to make its way up my to-be-read pile. So, it was with some trepidation that I picked up The Knight and the Moth; everyone else loves this, would I love it too?

Six, one of six diviners resident at Aisling Cathedral, can’t remember much of her life from before. Only her name, Sybill Delling. She’s spent nearly ten years drowning and dreaming to learn the fates of the people who pilgrimaged across the kingdom of Traum to visit the cathedral. Her service is nearly at an end, and she and her fellow diviners (One through Five) start to imagine what is next for them. The arrival of the new young king to Aisling also brings a mysterious knight. Roderick Myndacious is boorish, brash, and beautiful, with no reverence for the diviners or respect for their dreams. Sybill hopes his visit will be swift without cause for him to return. But when her fellow diviners start to vanish one by one, she finds herself with nowhere else to turn but to the new king and his dark knight.

I found The Knight and the Moth an easy world to settle into. Traum is a faux medieval realm, and I had no difficulty imagining this setting. This might, however, be helped by the fact that I’ve lived near two spectacular cathedrals at various times in my life, so the initial location of Aisling Cathedral was essentially a mix of the two of them, and it felt familiar from the get-go. Gillig’s writing is easy to follow, and I enjoyed the fairly dark magic system, religious lore, and questing knights aspects of the story.

However, some elements of The Knight and the Moth didn’t work well for me at all. I don’t mind romance in my fantasy as a subplot, but not only were the romance elements here a fair chunk of the story, but they were also quite predictable. Oh look, the female main character takes an instant dislike to the tall and brooding, eyeliner-wearing knight. I wonder if these frenemies will eventually become lovers? And despite the dark beginnings of the novel, as Six / Sybill and the knights move away from the gothic setting of the imposing cathedral and its drowning pool, the novel sort of stops feeling like a dark fantasy. Which is also fine, I don’t mind an epic fantasy. I love a quest. But I thought I was reading a gothic dark fantasy, and now it’s a quest that I haven’t wholly bought into. I must admit, I spent much of The Knight and the Moth feeling ambivalent about everything. My socks were not being knocked off the way everyone else’s seemed to be.

Two things saved this book for me. The first is the talking gargoyle, who calls everyone Bartholomew. Yes, I know what that sounds like. I like animal companions in books, and the gargoyle falls into that category. He provides comic relief with his mixed metaphors and was so endearing that I kept reading to find out if he served some greater purpose other than stoney sidekick. The second thing was the plot twists in the last quarter of the novel. After spending most of my time reading The Knight and the Moth, feeling like everything was progressing as predictably as a quest should, these twists were a literary slap to the face. I thought I was all set to get everything neatly tied up, and then there was a sharp bend away from the conclusion I expected. Despite the rest of the novel, it’s made me want to read what happens next out of sheer curiosity.

I’m sure many people out there will adore The Knight and the Moth. Heck, even in the GdM team, there are some people who really enjoyed it and have sung its praises. But for me, it felt only okay for most of the time I was reading it. I’m not quite sure if an ending that took me by surprise and an endearing gargoyle are enough to tip it over into being a good read, which is a shame, but maybe goes to show that I shouldn’t always believe the bookish social media hype. Thank you to the team at Orbit for providing me with a copy of the novel.

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