Sarah Chorn's Blog, page 37

Faithless – Graham Austin-King

About the Book

The temples of the Forgefather have fallen. The clerics and defenders that could once be found across the nine lands are no more. Priests huddle in the great temple, clinging to the echoes of their lost religion. But the Father has fallen silent. There are none who still hear his voice.

The mines of Aspiration lie far below the temple’s marble halls. Slaves toil in the blackness, striving to earn their way into the church and the light. Wynn has been sold into this fate, traded for a handful of silver. In the depths of the mines, where none dare carry flame, he must meet his tally or die. But there are things that lurk in that darkness, and still darker things within the hearts of men.

When the souls bound to the great forge are released in a failed ritual, one novice flees down into the darkness of the mines. The soulwraiths know only hunger, the risen know only hate. In the blackest depths Kharios must seek a light to combat the darkness which descends.

380 pages (Kindle)

Published on June 30, 2017

Author’s webpage

Buy the book

—

It’s kind of hard for me to figure out how to talk about this book because I edited it, and I want to say that right up front so no one has any guess as to where my bias rests. I edited this book, so whatever I say following this paragraph you can do what you want with.

However, I can also say that I’ve been editing books for six months now, and I while I fully invest myself in everything I edit, I enjoy what I edit in varying degrees. Some books hit it off with me, others, not so much. Faithless, so far, has been my favorite book out of all of the books I’ve edited, and I want to tell you a bit about why.

I am a sucker for books that really explore personal journeys, and if those personal journeys are dark, then so much the better. I like it when an author really gets me into someone’s head, and pushes my boundaries. I enjoy the surprises. I enjoy losing myself, and becoming someone else, somewhere/somewhen else. When an author does that well, I find myself fixated. Books that explore these personal transformations in the midst of all of this chaos and turmoil are books that I can relate to on a pretty deep level, as I’m sure we all can.

At the heart of Faithless is a personal journey. It’s unexpected and equal parts heart wrenching and illuminating. This book tells the story of a young man who finds himself sold to the church, and promptly discovers a life in the belly of the earth mining for those who live their lives on the surface. It’s a story of social strata, and acceptance. It’s the story of one young man’s journey to find himself in the midst of all of the upheaval and chaos his life has become.

Of course things happen, and our protagonist Wynn finds himself in the center of a lot of pushing and pulling. Not only regarding social conflicts in the mines where he lives, but also a spiritual conflict regarding the church that dictates all aspects of his life. Graham holds nothing back. He takes his time getting his readers into Wynn’s head, and then slowly unravels this dirty, crusty, dark reality that Wynn lives in, and shows it’s even uglier underbelly. There are plenty of surprises, and “Ah ha!” moments along the way, a few, in particular, had me messaging Graham as I edited with, “Dude! What the hell just happened here?! Holy shit!” messages. It takes a lot to get me that surprised, and he managed it. Multiple times.

Another aspect of this book I feel like I should mention is the world building. I am really particular about world building. I like things the way I like them, and I often pick on details. I think the details make or break it, and Graham made a really smart decision to keep his world small here. The small scope of it allowed him to add texture and layers to things where I didn’t really expect them. There’s the hint of a wider world outside, there’s mentions of cultures and peoples and the lives they live outside. Out there. Out where Wynn and his cohort cannot go, and that’s really enough for me. Wynn’s world is dark and pretty much windowless, full of rocks and tunnels and danger and Graham took his sweet time building it up, establishing a culture, and setting up the mythology of this underground place where so many live. It was fantastic.

Another thing I mentioned a few times as I edited was that I was amazed that Graham didn’t have a lifetime of experience mining or working with ore. The amount of research he must have done is staggering. I was honestly rather flummoxed when I realized that he wasn’t a miner and all of the information, this detailed description of the practices of mining (detailed, but never overwhelming or bogging down the plot) was gleaned from asking people who knew about this stuff and the research he did on his own. I absolutely love books where I can tell that the author spent a lot of time and effort researching his topic and Graham did his research so well he literally had me fooled for about half the book. `

Likewise with the religion that dominates so much of Faithless, Graham took a lot of care to develop it in a believable way, a way that is realistic not only in the context of the world he has created, but certain aspects of it reflect on real-world themes that people will inevitably draw on as they read. It’s a complex world, and the religious overtones of it are very well done, if occasionally uncomfortable. It can be uncomfortable to face the dark truth of something that so many see so much good in. I think discomfort can often be a good thing when I’m reading, and it was no less so in this case where the discomfort in some of these themes and happenings forced me to really think about some real-world issues in a different light.

Basically, on the one hand you have this guy who is trying to survive, and on the other hand you have this crumbling religion that is likewise trying to survive, and the clash of the two is unforgettable.

So, Faithless.

I edited it, and I loved editing it, but I also truly loved this novel, not just because I edited it and I think Graham has some serious skill, but also as a reader. This book ticked off all my boxes. It’s a story that engrossed me from the get-go. Faithless tells the deeply personal, transformative tale of Wynn, who is part of a dark, hidden world. It’s stormy, emotional and captivating, but also shockingly relatable and jarring. Along with this addicting story is some of the kind of writing that you can whip out and quote because it just sounds so good.

Faithless drops today. I’m beyond thrilled that I got to work on this project, and so excited that the rest of the world now gets to see what I found so entrancing about it.

Graham, your dark and twisted mind has served you well. Congratulations on Faithless.

An Urgent Plea

I’m in a state of shock and this bone-deep fear, and the weird thing is, I saw this from miles away. I’ve been anticipating this for months, but here it is, and I’m still just… cold. Cold and scared.

It’s like tracking a bomb. You can see it arching across the sky. You see its fiery tail, and you know you should get ready because that son of a bitch is going to fall, and you better pack your bags and get the hell out of the way. You know that when it falls it’s going to impact you directly, and permanently. It’s painting your name across the sky in a slipstream of smoke and ash. But somehow time gets away from you, and you get used to seeing that fiery tail in the sky, and the danger and fear seems to mute through daily happenings. Life moves on as it always does and you just… not really forget, but kind of adapt. Yes, the doom is there, and it’s coming, but not today. Today you need to buy groceries, cook dinner, get the kids to soccer practice…

Then the bomb falls, and you feel that visceral, jarring shock; that fear that you stepped on and sort of squashed out roars back to the surface and you know you shouldn’t be surprised. You saw the damn bomb coming. You read your name painted in fire across the sky. You knew it would fall and destroy everything. Then it falls and destroys everything and you just aren’t… you aren’t ready. You had so many other things to think about. You didn’t think it would happen today. Tomorrow, maybe, but not today. You aren’t ready today.

The bomb in this case, is a metaphor for health care (I’m sure that shocks you). Trumpcare. Wealthcare. This massive redistribution of money in the direction of the elite one-percenters, at the cost of the poor, the elderly, the disabled, the chronically ill, and the children. And while I knew this was going to happen, I wasn’t ready for it.

I’m not ready for it.

Elizabeth Warren calls it “blood money.” I like Elizabeth Warren.

The vote is still out, but I’m skeptical on all fronts. Nothing will surprise me with our current administration, and the personal cost will be immense. I feel like I could go on a long rant at how this will personally impact me. I have a chronic, degenerative illness, cancer, and a child with a congenital kidney disorder. Cue terror. This bill, the yearly and lifetime caps, the preexisting condition issues, the myriad of problems surrounding basic care and cost are nothing short of hair raising and terrifying and potentially debilitating. Absolutely life threatening, and my “fight or flight” response has been triggered.

I am terrified. I thought about this health care bill at work today and broke out in a cold sweat. I hate the helplessness that comes with knowing that my life is in the hands of two Senators who refuse to answer their phones or clear their voicemail. What is up with representatives who don’t represent, and when did this become okay?

I could also talk about how absolutely and completely dehumanized I feel. I feel like our Senators are going to be voting on how many people deserve to live, and a whole bunch of us haven’t hit their basic mark for deserving life. I feel like I’m being penalized for my faulty DNA, like being chronically ill or having cancer was a choice I consciously made just to pull one over on society. Sorry guys, I’ll try to fix it.

Essentially my life doesn’t have the value of someone else’s, because my life costs more.

I could discuss how criminal it is to put a 22-month-old child with huge blue eyes and an infectious smile at risk for a tax cut.

And I could talk about the rights of those with disabilities and chronic illnesses. I could talk about the rights of the poor and the children and the elderly and how, damn it, part of being pro-life is being pro-healthcare, you idiot Republican Senators. Why can’t any of you people understand that life matters past gestation as well as during gestation?

I could talk about monsters, and how they prey upon others.

I could remind our Senators that, for a bunch of people who seem to enjoy religion a lot, they conveniently forget about this nugget quite often:

And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ – Matthew 25:40

Instead I will urge you all to please, please, please call your Senators. Email them. Go to their local offices. Protest. Make noise. Smoke signals. Do something. Anything. This directly impacts lives, maybe not yours, but I guarantee you that someone you know is terrified right now, and worried about their life, or the lives of people they love dearly.

This is about a right to life.

This is about life and death. Don’t forget that for a second. This is a direct threat on people’s lives by our own government. Period. End of discussion.

So, call. Make noise. Please take this week to be as loud as you can. Perhaps this doesn’t impact you, but it impacts someone you know, so go out there and be someone’s hero. Apply pressure. Make your voice heard. If your senators are Republicans, put pressure on them to vote no. If your senators are Democrats, put pressure on them to act.

Here’s the contact information.

Please read this article.

From this disabled, chronically ill, adult with a history of cancer and a 22-month-old with a congenital kidney disorder, thank you.

Red Sister – Mark Lawrence

About the Book

I was born for killing – the gods made me to ruin.

At the Convent of Sweet Mercy young girls are raised to be killers. In a few the old bloods show, gifting talents rarely seen since the tribes beached their ships on Abeth. Sweet Mercy hones its novices’ skills to deadly effect: it takes ten years to educate a Red Sister in the ways of blade and fist.

But even the mistresses of sword and shadow don’t truly understand what they have purchased when Nona Grey is brought to their halls as a bloodstained child of eight, falsely accused of murder: guilty of worse.

Stolen from the shadow of the noose, Nona is sought by powerful enemies, and for good reason. Despite the security and isolation of the convent her secret and violent past will find her out. Beneath a dying sun that shines upon a crumbling empire, Nona Grey must come to terms with her demons and learn to become a deadly assassin if she is to survive.

469 pages (hardcover)

Published on April 4, 2017

Published by Ace

Author’s webpage

Buy the book

This book was sent by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

—

Red Sister by Mark Lawrence is a different animal from his other books. There are a lot of reasons for this. The main character is a young girl. The book felt a lot less grim than his previous books. The world is secondary and ice bound. The story is told in the third person.

So yeah, this book is totally different than his others, but don’t let that stop you. While I do think in some respects this book could be pretty polarizing for its readers, I think this also opens up a new audience for the author. Readers who might have struggled with his other books might find a better fit with this one.

This book tells the story of Nona, a young girl who is rescued from hanging at the age of eight by a woman from a nunnery, and whisked away to a school where she spends most of the book learning things, and growing. Yes, I will freely admit that I did feel some young-adult vibes in parts of this book, especially during the training school. I will also admit that I struggle with education-type scenes mostly because I’m weird like that.

That being said, while Lawrence does march out some tropes, he kept them interesting in his own unique way. Nona grows and develops in ways I didn’t expect. Secondary friends and enemies are introduced, which keep things interesting, and while a lot of the book focuses on school and learning, the plot moves ever forward, and while the tropes are kind of predictable, Lawrence is the kind of author that can make all of that fade out of view for the larger, more elaborate picture he’s painting.

The world is, as I mentioned, secondary, and I felt like a lot of this book was spent developing things, establishing how things work, laying out the “rules” so to speak. There are hints at bigger things, and there was so much development that it should be pretty easy for Lawrence to pretty much just build on what he’s established so well here. That means more time for plot, in a world that is stunningly well developed and outlined, and all of this thrown together could easily make this series something spectacular.

I didn’t really feel like this book was as dark as his others, which was kind of refreshing to me. I’ve read a lot of Lawrence’s other stuff, mainly things that he’s put up on WattPad, and he’s an incredibly diverse, versatile author who really brings detail and focus to everything he writes, and it’s no less so here. In fact, one thing I truly love is when an author sort of veers off their established path. Lawrence is a good author, and a versatile one, and Red Sister sort of showcases all of that.

So, the first half of Red Sister is really spent establishing things, setting up the world, developing the cast of characters, and introducing readers to the Sweet Mercy convent, where they are in school. The second part of the book is really where all of this flips the script. The game is completely changed. No longer are we focused on Nona and her adventures in school, but now things are different. The big threat is introduced. People change. Secrets are revealed. Goals are changed, and this crew of characters that Lawrence have developed are now suddenly active participants in this plot that is really quite gripping and incredibly absorbing.

Red Sister was a book that unexpected. It’s a very different style from his other works. It was less dark, more of a coming-of-age story. The world building was incredible, and the second half was absolutely fantastic. I love diverse authors, and Mark Lawrence is one of those. He can master just about anything he sets his mind to. His prose are incredible, his plot is vibrant and rich, lush with detail, and his characters always seem to fly off the page.

Red Sister is different, and it’s stronger for it.

More! More! More!

 

4/5 stars

 

 

Six Wakes – Mur Lafferty

About the Book

A space adventure set on a lone ship where the clones of a murdered crew must find their murderer — before they kill again.

It was not common to awaken in a cloning vat streaked with drying blood.

At least, Maria Arena had never experienced it. She had no memory of how she died. That was also new; before, when she had awakened as a new clone, her first memory was of how she died.

Maria’s vat was in the front of six vats, each one holding the clone of a crew member of the starship Dormire, each clone waiting for its previous incarnation to die so it could awaken. And Maria wasn’t the only one to die recently.

364 pages (paperback)

Published on January 31, 2017

Published by Orbit Books

Author’s webpage

Buy the book

This book was sent by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

—

I am ridiculously late with this review, but better late than never, right?

Six Wakes is a book I was dying to read as soon as I heard about it. Mur Lafferty is an incredible author, and I’ve absolutely loved the unique twist she puts on everything she writes. She’s one of those authors who has an incredibly unique perspective and she brings that to what she writes with flair and style.

Six Wakes also interested me because I love who-done-it stories, but I’m also finding myself increasingly interested in books that take place in closed systems. I’ve read a few good ones recently, and I find that, if done well, the world building in these sorts of stories can surpass just about anything else I run across as I read.

Everything I’ve read by Lafferty to this point has been thoughtful and well done, but also sort of light. Six Wakes is a different sort of beast. This book gets into your psyche pretty easily. The crew on this ship are out in the middle of nowhere. They wake up as clones of themselves, and soon discover their old bodies dead, scattered around the ship. On a ship full of criminals, each one capable of committing murder, and a closed system to boot, the drama can quickly get into your head.

In this respect, this who-done-it is masterful. Lafferty gets into her characters’ heads, and builds them all up with flashbacks of the past and other antidotes. While she’s doing this, she develops relationships and destroys trust all at once, until no one has a clue about what’s going on, least of all the reader, but you can’t stop because holy shit it’s addicting. She leads you on and keeps you guessing. The pacing, in this respect, is perfect, and the moral gray zone each of her characters inhabit is both an essential part of the plot, but can also be quite thought provoking.

So, on the one hand you have this murder mystery in space thing going on. On the other hand, Lafferty sort of throws a lot of deep thoughts at readers without readers realizing she’s doing it. In fact, once I finished the book, I thought about it a while and realized that the murder mystery thing is really just one aspect of the novel itself. This book also poses some pretty important questions as it tells its story.

For example, this book starts with each of the characters in the crew waking up in their tanks, in their cloned bodies. As the book winds on, Lafferty deftly plucks at themes and ideas surrounding cloning, laws, personhood, issues facing society, and more. It’s subtle, and well woven into the story, but I ended up thinking as much about the plot, as thinking about the inherent rights of humans themselves, and what an impact cloning would have on our society, as well as what makes a person count as a person.

Six Wakes works on multiple levels, and it does it so well. The murder mystery part is absolutely absorbing. The deeper issues circling around cloning and the problems this sort of science poses are just as riveting as the mystery, but a bit subtler. I enjoy books that work on numerous levels, and this absolutely is one of them. Coupled with fantastic writing, and a plot that won’t quit, Six Wakes was a fantastic book that exceeded every expectation I had for it.

 

4/5 stars

Early Review | The Spoonbenders – Daryl Gregory

About the Book

A generations-spanning family of psychics–both blessed and burdened by their abilities–must use their powers to save themselves from the CIA, the local mafia, and a skeptic hell-bent on discrediting them in this hilarious, tender, magical novel about the invisible forces that bind us.

The Telemachus family is known for performing inexplicable feats on talk shows and late-night television. Teddy, a master conman, heads up a clan who possess gifts he only fakes: there’s Maureen, who can astral project; Irene, the human lie detector; Frankie, gifted with telekinesis; and Buddy, the clairvoyant. But when, one night, the magic fails to materialize, the family withdraws to Chicago where they live in shame for years. Until: As they find themselves facing a troika of threats (CIA, mafia, unrelenting skeptic), Matty, grandson of the family patriarch, discovers a bit of the old Telemachus magic in himself. Now, they must put past obstacles behind them and unite like never before. But will it be enough to bring The Amazing Telemachus Family back to its amazing life?

416 pages (hardcover)

Expected publication on June 27, 2017

Author’s webpage

Buy the book

This book was sent by the publisher in exchange for my honest review.

—

I am a huge fan of Daryl Gregory. Each book of his seems to be better than the last, and I just love how he has this uncanny ability to get into the mind and psyche of the characters he creates. His worlds are interesting, but Gregory’s real skill rests with his character development.

The Spoonbenders is a novel that I was thrilled to get, and I devoured it while I was recovering from surgery these past few weeks. It’s different than his other books. This one focuses on the Telemachus family, a family who is basically known for their psychic and otherworldly abilities and performing said abilities on talk shows and the like.

Each chapter focuses on a different member of the family, and their experiences. They dip a bit into the family history and experiences, and then move forward in the current events that are absorbing each of the characters. It’s interesting how Gregory does this, drawing the reader in by using each character’s story to do so. This paints an interesting and broad picture of the Telemachus family, and their relationships, but it also shows how their past is directly impacting their present.

The other thing I loved was how Gregory managed to keep me rather agnostic about the Telemacus family’s various otherworldly abilities. Sometimes I thought, “Wow, these guys are for real!” and other times I’d be thinking, “what ingenious little scam artists.” Vacillating on that point, the back and forth of it, was a lot of fun and part of what made this book so damn interesting. I’d love to know what kind of research Gregory did to develop these characters.

The Spoonbenders isn’t all just focused on personal stories and experiences. Very soon after the book starts a series of unfortunate and mysterious events take place and soon this family is ensnared in a group of threats that can easily overwhelm them. Gregory pins his readers between a gripping vision of an interesting (and colorful) past, and a fractured, rootless present and these family members need to navigate both to make it through.

In its heart, The Spoonbenders, in my mind, is a lot about relationship – love of family, love of self, and how people can be stronger together if they make up their minds to be that way. Family never dies, and the strong ties that bind are both strained and strengthened throughout the novel. It’s a book that is quirky and colorful, but also shockingly intimate and just as gripping on the personal level as on the overarching mystery/threat level.

The Spoonbenders moves at a very quick pace. Before I really realized what I was doing, I had already read the entire book – it was that absorbing. It’s really unlike anything I’ve ever read before, and that’s a good thing. Gregory’s ability to flawlessly navigate a plot on an intimate and larger scope so flawlessly really takes this book from interesting and fun, to something else altogether.

To sum this diatribe up, The Spoonbenders was a home run for me. Daryl Gregory continues to dazzle me with his imagination, talent, and his stunning character development. If you’re looking toward reading something a bit off the beaten path, maybe a bit more intimate and far different than you’re used to, then give this one a whirl. You will not be disappointed.

Highly recommended. Gregory continues to be one of my favorite authors, and this book is a perfect example as to why.

 

5/5 stars

SPFBO 2017 | The Epic Cover Art Post

Well, I’ve been out of commission for a few weeks recovering from surgery. I took a little of that time to really look over the cover art I’ve got in my batch of SPFBO books this year. Mark Lawrence is doing a cover art contest, which is awesome. I’ve decided to list my top ten favorite covers, and at the end of this post, I’ll announce which three I’m sending over to Mark Lawrence to compete in his cover art contest.

I will also take a moment to pontificate a little bit. We always say “don’t judge a book by its cover” but the sad truth is, cover art matters. It’s what appeals to readers, and it’s usually the first thing people see. It’s kind of the missionary for your book. It’s the “come hither” to your readers, and I really enjoy it when authors pick cover art that flirts with me a bit. I like the stuff that makes me wonder if the words are as intriguing as the cover. Now, everyone has different tastes, preferences, and styles. I’ve never been one to say that my style (for anything) is the end all be all of style. Just because I like something, doesn’t devalue everything else’s worth.

Basically, cover art matters, and I picked these ten but check out the rest of my batch of books because they all have something worthy to offer.

Click below each book for a link to buy the book, and/or read what they are about.

Full disclosure: Some books had more than one edition, which means more than one cover for many of them. I looked through every cover for every book on goodreads (even if said book had more than one cover), and picked my favorite out of all of those listed for each book.

Congratulations to the top ten who have dazzled me with their cover art, and much luck to you for the rest of the SPFBO – cover art and otherwise.

Now, my top ten favorite covers, in no particular order (remember, my three finalists are revealed at the end).

Here we go!!

Buy the book

Buy the book

Buy the book

Buy the book

Buy the book

Buy the book

Buy the book

Buy the book

Buy the book

Buy the book

 

And the three finalists are…. 

 

Interview with Graham Austin-King, Author of Faithless

I asked Graham if he’d be willing to let me interview him about his book, and also about self-publishing in general. He was kind enough to take the time to answer some of my questions. I also went online a while ago and asked people what they’d want to ask an author who has experience with self-publishing. I chose some of the best questions, and asked Graham. I hope you guys enjoy the interview.

Preorder Faithless here

Author’s webpage

Onto the interview!

 

 

One of the first things I noticed about Faithless is how well researched the entire novel was. In fact, when I was editing, I remember being incredibly surprised that you haven’t had a long and illustrious history involving mining. Can you talk a bit about your research process, and perhaps give any tips and insights to readers and writers about researching, and inserting research realistically into the books they are writing?

I’ve been into a few cave systems and disused mines on tours when I was younger, that’s a part of it. I remember the cold and the damp, the sound of water dripping somewhere. I also remember the darkness when they turned the lights out. How it was so unlike the darkness of above ground. I have a friend I talk to from Australia who talked me through some of the aspects of mining, but a lot of it I found online. I spent a lot of time reading about Roman mining techniques and how mining was performed before we had explosives and large machinery. There are a lot of great documentaries out there as well. There is a fine line between describing something and info-dumping and I’ve been known to struggle with it. I have my own personal “comic book guy” from The Simpsons in my head, poking holes and making sure that things make sense.

Faithless has a lot of really fun, unique technology. I hate asking authors how they came up with ideas for stuff, but I think I have to right now. How did you dream up things like chemlamps? What kind of influences, and research, did you use to help you create some of the technology used deep in the mines?

The chemlamps came out of necessity. I knew that I had to mention firedamp, or as I call it in the book “the Father’s Wrath.” If miners couldn’t use flames for lamps then I had to have an alternative. I vaguely remember a book where a character mixed two kinds of sand or powder together in a bowl to make a light, that was the root of chemlamps. It made sense to me that a chemical reaction like that could generate heat, and I’d thought up the scene with Kharios and the glowtube from the very beginning, so things just sort of developed.

Faithless is interesting for a lot of reasons, but one of the biggest ones, I think, is the fact that this is sort of a “closed world.” There are hints of the outside world, but really the entire book takes place in two main locations. You really had to develop entire complex cultures and a huge, powerful religion, for this one big, but closed, location. Was that hard? What sort of things did you focus on when creating this world – the mines and the temple?

I wanted, from the outset for this to be a book through the eyes of the main characters. My last trilogy has multiple characters all looking at a massive conflict from various sides and perspectives. So much of Faithless is about how the characters failings, about selfishness and cowardice, that I really wanted to focus on it. The “world” they inhabit, in the temple and the mines reinforces that, it’s sort of designed to reflect how Wynn and Kharios are trapped within their own flaws. This all sounds terribly well planned out, but most of it just worked out this way.

Regarding the religion, there’s a lot of myth and mystery involved in Faithless. Did you use any real-world influences to create some of these religious aspects and myths?

The myths are all original but I drew quite heavily on Islamic history for some of it. I wrote my MA thesis on Islamic fundamentalism and terrorism, there is a huge sense of lost grandeur, of yearning for lost empire within fundamentalist Islam and I wanted to try and recreate that. The legends of the Forgefather, of the powers of his priests and defenders all come from this idea.

Wynn’s story is rather tragic. You really aren’t afraid of making this poor guy suffer in life. What are some aspects of Wynn’s life that really resonate with you, and was it hard for you to write any of his struggles?

I had a really hard time with the sexual abuse. I had to get a lot of advice from people on how to handle it, and I made a lot of revisions once my betareaders came back to me on the early drafts. It’s not a fun topic. It wasn’t easy to read and my intention, from the start, was to make it uncomfortable reading.

One thing I remarked on quite often when I was editing Faithless was how wonderful the pacing was. Are you an author who outlines or do you fly by the seat of your pants, and how did you manage to keep the pacing going so well? Any tips for other authors?

I don’t plot, at all. I’ve tried it before and all that ends up happening is that I deviate from the plan and end up having wasted my time. I stuck to a three chapter pattern where we flick back and forth between the two main characters, but other than that I had no plans at all. If the pacing is good then that’s a happy accident. I do think that any writer will develop a feel for how a story will build over time. Perhaps reading a lot helps. I don’t know.

I want to talk a bit about self-publishing. You have experience with self-publishing. Can you tell readers a bit about your time as a self-published author? How has self-publishing changed over the years? How have these changes impacted your experience in the marketplace, if at all?

I wrote a blog post about this some time ago called “My Experience in Self-Publishing (or what not to do)”. I’ve done just about everything wrong in my writing career, from releasing a book before it is truly ready, to being that guy screaming out “buy my books!” I suppose the only thing I’ve done right is listen and learn over time. Self-publishing has grown a lot since 2014 which is both good and bad. Good because it’s a lot easier to find quality editors (I’ve had some shocking ones at times) and artwork for covers (I’ve done well there), but also bad because self-publishing comes with it’s own stigma. Many believe  that a SP book will amateurish and poorly edited. It’s probably a carry over from the days of vanity presses but unfortunately, for every great self-published book, there are probably ten that really aren’t. Fighting against that stigma makes it hard for writers to get traction and it’s this belief that the SPFBO has to battle against.

You decided to enter Faithless into the Self-Published Fantasy Blog Off. Why did you choose to do that and what are you expecting out of the competition?

I released Fae – The Sins of the Wyrde in December of 2015. I’ve been in this game since 2014 and have been lucky enough to gain some traction, and attract my own small following of readers – enough to let me write full-time and make a modest living. That said, there is a momentum to maintain. I would have liked Faithless to be traditionally published but that is not a quick process. The agents that had been suggested to me all advised I keep looking, but it took longer than I would have liked and I was running out of time with the SPFBO. I see the SPFBO as the best of both worlds, a way to gain more exposure and release Faithless, and also, if I am extremely lucky, attract an agent.

The cover art for Faithless is absolutely amazing. Who was your artist, and what went into creating this cover?

Pen Astridge did my cover art. She’s worked with Mark Lawrence before and did the cover for his book Road Brothers. I didn’t give her much to go on, just that I wanted a hammer and anvil involved somehow. She’s come up with an amazing cover and she’s great to work with. I’d recommend her to anyone.

I asked some readers on various social networking sites to ask you some questions about self-publishing, so here are a few I chose:

What led you to self-publishing, rather than finding an agent or submitting directly to the publisher?

If I’m honest, it was largely down to my own impatience.  As I mentioned, I released my first book before it was really ready. It went out to agents before it was ready too. I had to claw it back and re-edit and re-release. Most agents aren’t interested once a book has been self-published, not unless you’ve already sold in the tens of thousands. I was was mid-way into a series by this point and so it made sense to finish it before starting to look for agents again.

What are some of the struggles regarding promotion with self-publishing? How do you approach promotion, and what are some of the best promotional techniques you’ve come across in your time as a self-published author?

Promotion within self-publishing is hard work. There are an awful lot of people out there screaming ‘buy my book’, and I think people become blind to it. I’ve tried just about every advertising technique. I have had a lot of success with Bookbub which is a service readers can sign up to for free and get emails about discounted books. They have many competitors but Bookbub is the largest, and they vet the books they advertise thoroughly so people know they are only going to be told about quality books. It is notoriously difficult for authors to get a slot with though, which means you can’t rely solely upon it.

I’ve tried advertising with amazon and with goodreads, these are pay-per-click ads and I haven’t had much success with them.

I think probably the most effective technique is to interact through the various groups and forums related to your genre. Stop trying to ram your book down people’s throat and just share your love of the genre and of reading. It helps if you don’t act like a jerk.

Are there any tools, websites, videos, books to read or anything of that nature that you’d recommend for people considering self-publishing? Any resources you can offer to help them learn the nuts and bolts of self-publishing and how to put a book up for sale?

There are a wealth of resources on a forum called Kboards that will set most people on the right path. I’m not a big believer in doing everything myself, I’d much rather hire in an expert and know the job has been done properly. I know my limitations and I’m a rubbish proofreader, and an even worse artist.

I recently experimented with a platform called Reedsy with which you can find all manner of editors and services. They are all rated and reviewed and I’d happily use them again.

Thanks for taking the time to answer these questions!

Cover Art Reveal & Excerpt | Faithless – Graham Austin-King

One of the best parts about being an editor is getting in on the ground floor when an author is working on something truly, absolutely groundbreaking. It’s so exhilarating to be part of something someone so talented has created.

A few months ago, Graham asked me if I’d be interested in editing his book, Faithless. I jumped on it. I’ve read some of his work, and I really enjoy his talent and the unique perspective he adds to all of his writing. Faithless seemed like an interesting premise and I was excited to get in on it and see what it was all about.

I’m so very glad I did.

Faithless is a book I truly believe in. It is one-of-a-kind with excellent pacing, a unique premise, interesting characters, and a fascinating world. Graham produced something incredible here. This is a book I really, 100% believe in. This is also a book I really want to go far, which is why I am thrilled to be part of the cover art reveal. And, to top it all off, the cover art is just as fantastic as the book itself.

AND you can officially preorder the book (links below the cover).

Today is basically going to be Graham’s day. In this post you’ll get the cover art reveal and an excerpt from the book. In about thirty minutes, I’ll regale you with an interview with the author where I ask him about some aspects of this wonderful book, and some questions about self-publishing in general. I hope you stick around for both posts, and help spread the word.

Without further ado, here you go…

Author’s webpage

Preorder the book

About the book

The temples of the Forgefather have fallen. The clerics and defenders that could once be found across the nine lands are no more. Priests huddle in the great temple, clinging to the echoes of their lost religion. But the Father has fallen silent. There are none who still hear his voice.

The mines of Aspiration lie far below the temple’s marble halls. Slaves toil in the blackness, striving to earn their way into the church and the light. Wynn has been sold into this fate, traded for a handful of silver. In the depths of the mines, where none dare carry flame, he must meet his tally or die. But there are things that lurk in that darkness, and still darker things within the hearts of men.

When the souls bound to the great forge are released in a failed ritual, one novice flees down into the darkness of the mines. The soulwraiths know only hunger, the risen know only hate. In the blackest depths Kharios must seek a light to combat the darkness which descends.

Excerpt 

CHAPTER ONE

Robes hissed over marble. Soft cloth kissed the cold stone and whispered secrets that were punctuated by the faint slap of sandals as the old acolyte led them on through the halls. Wynn looked around at the friezes, the torches burning in their sconces, anywhere but at the other man with him who shot him furtive glances as they followed the acolyte. The man who called himself his father. Betrayal and guilt were like old lovers, reaching for each other in the silence.

A trek through a maze of smaller hallways ended with a wait at a dark oaken door. Their guide stepped inside leaving them in the hall. The thick wood of the door turned words into muffled whispers. And then the old man returned, waving them into the opulent study with a blank expression that looked carved into his face.

Wynn followed his father into the room, looking past the red-haired man to the priest waiting in his thick, dark robes. His face was deeply lined, and the hooked nose would have made him look severe were it not for the kindly eyes.

The rug was deep underfoot and the book-lined walls seemed to throw back the heat from the fireplace. He gaped around at the leather-bound books that ran from floor to ceiling. The air was stale, with the smell of parchment and wax. He ignored the two men as they spoke, dimly aware that the acolyte had left, and refusing to hear the clinking sound the coins made as they fell into his father’s hand. Hearing would make it real.

“Is he simple?” The priest’s words cut through the fog just before his father’s hand cuffed at his head.

“No, beggin’ your pardon, your honour.” Wynn flinched away from the hard eyes as his father glanced at him. “He’s not simple, your holiness. Just lacking in manners.”

The priest looked at Wynn, running his gaze over him until Wynn stepped back a pace. The man saw too much, looked too deeply. “And are you ready to enter the service of the Forgefather, lad?”

“No,” Wynn told him, trying hard not to stare at the symbol of a hammer that had been branded into the priest’s forehead. “I just want to go home.”

“Little bastard!” Wynn’s father hissed. Wynn flinched away from the furious hands that reached for him.

“It is no matter,” the old priest said, raising a placating hand as he stood and made his way to the door. “Many who come here do not truly appreciate what it is they are being offered. I’ll send for someone to take the lad in hand.”

The wait was not long but Wynn squeezed every moment from it. He glared at this stranger who’d fathered him and who, even now, would not even meet his gaze. Within minutes another robed servant came for him.

The musty study was gone in moments and Wynn was escorted through marble halls with stylised statues and polished anvils too inlaid with gold and runes to serve any practical purpose. The grandeur receded as they passed into smaller, more functional corridors. They made their way down a long flight of stone steps before Wynn’s escort spoke.

“It won’t be as bad as you’ll think it is in the next few months,” he told him in a low voice.

“I’m sorry?” Wynn looked over at the man. His face was pale and heavily lined and his short beard was grey, but it was a face that had been aged by hard work rather than years.

“Just a bit of advice is all,” his guide grunted. “Accept what’s coming and it’ll be easier for you in the end.”

Wynn frowned at that. “What do you mean, ‘what’s coming?’” he asked, but the old servant just shook his head and waved him onward.

The stairs were tired and worn giving way to a smaller set of corridors fashioned from plain stones that had none of the opulence of the upper temple. The hall stretched on, reaching out until the darkness swallowed it.

“How far do these passages go?” he muttered.

“We’re far beyond the temple walls now,” the servant told him without turning. “Closer to the mountain. This passage goes to the mines, though there may be others. The temple is vast. I doubt there’s anyone who knows all her secrets.”

Wynn paused, slowing his steps. “Mines? I thought I was to serve the temple?”

“There are many ways to serve,” the servant replied. “It will become clear in time.” He fell silent, ignoring Wynn’s questions until the boy gave up and they approached the door. It was a heavy oak creation, reinforced with thick beams and iron bars. Two robed men watched their approach, and nodded a greeting to Wynn’s guide before fumbling with keys and lifting the crossbar to let them through.

Another gate lay a short walk beyond them, its odd construction half-hidden in the low light. Wynn’s guide reached for his arm as the door slammed shut behind them. He gave a bow of greeting to the shadowed figures manning the gate.

“To you I give this boy, into your charge,” he said, the words oddly formulaic.

“May the Father take him and shape him,” a leather-clad man replied with a polite bow. Wynn stared openly at the second figure and the bandage bound tight around his eyes. He suppressed a shudder as the man turned his head, appearing to look back at him despite the dark cloth. The man’s gaze passed over him like a cold oil, clinging to his flesh.

“I’ll be leaving you here,” Wynn’s guide said in a neutral voice. “One of these two will lead you down to Garl’s man.”

Wynn glanced at the men, dark leather, and robes that might have been woven from shadow. When he looked back, his guide had already turned to leave. Wynn watched him walk away for a moment and as the man in leather took his arm he realised he’d never even asked his guide’s name.

The locks clanked tight behind them, leaving the bandaged priest alone with just the door for company. The air beyond the gate felt damp and the darkness deeper, split by odd, bowl-shaped lamps that sent a pale green light to fight a pointless battle against the black. Wynn peered at the lamps as they passed, trying to see the source of the glow.

“Chemiks,” the man in leather grunted, following his gaze. “There aren’t many torches or lamps down here. They don’t last long enough and down in the mines themselves any flame can bring on the Father’s Wrath.”

Wynn turned away from the lamp. “The what?”

“Later.” The man gave him a long look, scratching at one stubbled cheek and then shook his head. “It’s not my place. It’ll all be explained in time.”

“What’s your name?” Wynn asked suddenly.

The man paused, frowning. “Liam,” he grunted. “Now come on.”

Wynn frowned after him and then hurried to keep up. The stone corridors led them down yet more stairs, steps worn low with the passage of feet, and caked in dust and chips of stone. The distant sounds of life made Wynn realise just how quiet it had been. The murmur of voices combined with their steady footsteps, the sound of metal on metal, and a thousand other noises that grew louder as the passage led them out onto a pathway overlooking a massive cavern.

Flat-roofed buildings were clustered tight over the floor of the cavern, and formed up into streets and squares. Large lamps sat on one corner of each building’s roof casting the same chemik-light glow out over the streets. The buildings stretched farther than he could make out, eventually being claimed by darkness as the chemlamps failed to banish the gloom.

A huge fissure split the high ceiling, letting a thin band of sunlight illuminate a section of the settlement. Wynn gaped out at the city below and then hurried after his guide. It seemed a stupid thing to think of it as a city, but there was simply nothing else to call something that vast and sprawling.

It was the smell that struck him next. Whilst the temple had smelled like a combination of incense and scorched metal, and the tunnels and corridors leading to the cavern had been damp and musty, this place had the smell of life. Sweat, mixed with the smell of baking bread, and coal smoke, with a metallic undertone that he couldn’t quite place.

“What is this?” he breathed as they passed the first of the buildings.

“This is Aspiration. This is where you begin your training.”

Wynn followed Liam through streets and districts, passing collections of shacks that huddled in ragged circles around fire-pits where men cooked with large pots. These gave way to long, low, huts surrounded by storage shacks crammed with picks and crates which, in turn, gave way to elaborate, marble-fronted structures surrounded by high walls and fences.

“There are fifty or more mining crews down here,” Liam told him. “I forget how many, exactly. Garl’s man will decide which is yours.”

Wynn turned to see Liam had stopped outside a wrought-iron gate and was muttering something to the guard stood within. The gate swung inward as the guard eyed Wynn, fingering the iron-bound club as if he were any kind of threat and not a lost fifteen-year-old boy.

A thick door gave way to an opulent hallway crafted from the same marble as the temple far above them. Wynn and his guide were passed through three sets of guards, and searched twice, before they were waved into a large study.

“And just who the fuck are you?” a voice growled out as Wynn blinked against the bright lamps.

“He’s with me, Derint,” Liam said as he followed Wynn through the door. “Another gift from Father Sorn.”

“Another one?” The chair scraped back against the polished floorboards as the dark-haired man hauled himself to his feet and moved out from behind the desk. “Bit old for a priest’s taste wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t say. I know enough not to comment.”

“That’s right, wouldn’t want to stain the marble floors up there with a bit of truth now would we?” Derint hawked and spat, shaking his head. “Go on then, piss off.”

Derint waited until the door had closed behind the man before looking back at Wynn. “And how much have they told you?”

“Nothing really.” Wynn shrugged, wringing his fingers behind his back. “Just that I am to serve in the temple.”

“Serve!” Derint snorted a laugh and then narrowed his eyes as he looked Wynn over. “Show me your hands, boy.”

Wynn held them out, trying to keep them from shaking as Derint inspected them.

“You’re no stranger to work at least,” he grunted. “Farmer’s boy?”

Wynn nodded.

“Drought hit you?”

“Not as bad as it hit some others,” Wynn told him. And that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? He clenched his fists without thinking.

Derint narrowed his eyes and grunted. “But your Da sent you anyway, didn’t he? Sold you for a couple of coins.”

Wynn shook his head at that. “It’s just for a year…”

“He’ll be back as soon as the harvest turns around?” Derint offered. “I’ve heard that one too. It’s time you grew a little, son. I’ve got no time for snivelling rats down here. You’ll know the truth and deal with it. You’re here to work, plain and simple.”

“I thought I was to serve in the temple,” Wynn blurted.

The cuff caught him solidly on the side of his head and Wynn staggered, clutching at his ear.

Derint pointed one stubby finger at him. “That’s the only warning I’ll give you. Interrupt me again, boy, and you’ll get what’s coming to you.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Listen this time and try to get it through that skull of yours. You’re here to ‘serve the temple’,” he mimicked, clasping his hands and looking up at the ceiling. “That’s shit. You’re an aspirant. There’s nothing below you because you’re as low as things get. In time, if you prove yourself, learn your lessons, and if luck dribbles out of your fucking arse, you might scratch your way up to novice and maybe onwards. For now, you belong to Garl. And for as long as you belong to Garl, you’ll dig.”

“Dig?” Wynn asked, knowing it for a stupid question.

Another sigh, followed by another disbelieving shake of the head. “What name were you given, boy?”

“Wynn.”

“Wynn, this is the temple of the Forgefather,” Derint told him. “You must have passed the forges and anvils in the temple. Where do you think all the iron and gold the priests are forging comes from? This is a mine, boy. The priests might claim you’re searching for your faith or some such bollocks, but the truth is that you’re supplying them with the gold and iron they pound away at. That’s how you’ll serve the temple.”

He pointed at a plain wooden chair set in one corner of the office. “Sit your arse there and don’t touch anything. I’ll fetch someone to babysit you.”

Wynn sat. In the space of three short hours, his life had been torn to pieces. He’d known about the Father’s Gift of course. Everyone did. But being sent to serve in the temple for a year or two was one thing, being condemned to a life of sweating away in the darkness was something quite different.

Where was his father now? Probably way past Berentford. The road to the temple was a rough one and his journey would only get easier as he went on. Somehow Wynn doubted he’d be able to say the same. He sat and gnawed on his lip, staring unseeing at the hands in his lap until the door opened.

The man Derint returned with was lean in every sense of the word. His face was impassive, his eyes as grey as his hair. He looked as if there was not enough substance about him to form into a full man and so, stretched thin and gaunt, this was the end result. “Temple’s latest aspirant,” Derint told him, nodding at Wynn. “Take him and show him the basics, he can go onto Terrik’s gang in the morning.

“This is Skerth,” Derint said, turning back to Wynn. “He’ll show you around. Terrik will find someone else to hold your hand until he judges you competent enough to wipe your own arse.”

Wynn gave the man a small smile of greeting. Skerth, for his part, looked him up and down, shaking his head gently as he reached for the door.

***

“Keep close,” Skerth told him as Wynn emerged from Derint’s office. “I don’t like babysitting, and I don’t like saying stuff more than once. Pay attention, and keep up.” He set off without looking back to see if Wynn was following, and led him at a pace out of the building. He took Wynn on a winding path through the town, along narrow streets that passed between the long buildings and warehouses, and eventually past the shacks as they made their way towards the farthest end of the cavern.

“You’ll sleep in this one,” the grey man told him eventually, pointing at a long building. “This is Terrik’s crew. He’s hard but life is hard down here. You might as well get used to it. Work well and you’ll have no problems with him. His crew doesn’t do as well as some, but it does better than others.” He shrugged. “It’s not a bad place to find your feet.”

Wynn opened his mouth to ask about the priests again but thought better of it. Skerth went to a storage shack and rummaged around inside as Wynn looked around. It was a long way from the fields of home. Once you moved out of the light from the fissure the darkness pressed in, oppressive and smothering. The chemlamps glowing from the roofs of the huts didn’t pierce far into the murk and the ceiling of the cavern was lost in the black.

“Put this on,” Skerth told him, handing him an odd helmet as he emerged from the storage shack. “I’ll give you a taste of it.”

Wynn took the helmet curiously, turning it over in his hands and peering at the odd contraption on the front.

“Chemlamp,” Skerth told him, tapping on the glass face of the light. He pointed at the cylinders on either side of the glass. “Red in this one, white in this one. They trickle down and combine here inside the lamp. Pull that switch out towards you to start it.”

“What is it?” Wynn asked, peering at the sandy substance.

“Do I look like a chemiker?” Skerth asked. “Turn the damned thing on and get it on your head. Don’t touch it,” he added as an afterthought. “They get hot.”

Wynn pulled the metal hook towards him and watched as the glass began to glow with a faint greenish light. “It’s not very bright.”

“It’s bright enough, boy,” Skerth told him. “It’s as dark as a sinner’s soul in there and that’s not even the worst of it. Always check your lamp before heading in. There’s enough chems in there to last two or three days but you don’t want it failing on you. I don’t imagine you’d ever find your way out without one. Now get it on.”

The narrow streets opened up as they moved closer to the end of the cavern, giving way to broad avenues that were littered with chips of loose rock. The smell of smoke grew steadily stronger, an acrid stench that had Wynn coughing and covering his mouth.

“You get used to it,” Skerth told him with a wry half-smile at his discomfort. “The smelt works is down that way. Outside of cooking it’s the only real fire you’ll see down here. Now, are you ready?”

“Ready?” Wynn repeated, cursing himself for the stupid question as Skerth nodded at the dark passage sloping down in front of them. Twin tracks ran along the floor of the tunnel, emerging from the darkness of the passage and extending out towards the smelt works.

Skerth sighed. “Let’s go. Keep close.” He stopped, looking down at Wynn’s feet as though he were seeing them for the first time. “Are they really the only boots you’ve got?”

“I… uh.”

“They won’t last you two days down here, and your feet won’t last three,” Skerth told him. “See that Terrik sorts you out with some hard-boots first thing.”

The passage sloped down gently and then levelled out for short stretches at regular intervals. “For the carts,” Skerth told him, answering Wynn’s question without him needing to voice it. “We pull them up by hand, the flat sections are where you’ll catch your breath.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to use ponies or something?” Wynn asked.

“Would it?” Skerth scratched his head. “Might be it would. But then you’ve got a hundred ponies or donkeys down here, shitting all over the place, needing their own food and water. That all needs hands to deal with, creates as much work as it saves probably. Besides,” he fixed Wynn with a serious look, “animals won’t go near the mines or any of the Carnath stones. They go crazy as soon as they get close. They tried with ponies and mules, all sorts, way before my time. Everything bolts or goes wild. I don’t think anyone even thinks about it anymore.”

Wynn took a chance on Skerth’s temper, risking the question. “What are Carnath stones?”

“All of it really. They call this place the Mines of Carnath but some parts are a bit odd.” He shrugged. “You’ll see soon enough.”

The passage continued on and the sounds of the smelt works and the cavern they’d left behind soon faded, swallowed by a darkness that pressed in on them. The chemlamps strung on the wall grew further apart and new noises drifted out of the darkness. These new sounds were woven from the hints of whispers. They were little more than the remnants of echoes, but they tugged at Wynn’s ears as they gave voice to the gloom.

Skerth led him on, turning into side passages, and walking through a series of narrow tunnels until they reached a wide, rock-hewn staircase turning in a lazy spiral as it descended ever deeper.

Wynn looked from the stairs to Skerth and back again. The stone was set with an intricate pattern worked into the surface which threw back the light from his helmet. He knelt to trace his fingers over the stone. It felt too warm to his touch and faintly slick, though it held no trace of moisture. He stood with a faint grimace, wiping his fingers on his clothes. The stone put him in mind of flesh for some reason.

“What…” he began and gave up, not finding the words.

“Carnath stone,” Skerth told him with a shrug. “These tunnels are rich in gold and iron, that’s why the mines were started here.” He started down the steps again, glancing back to be sure Wynn followed. “We weren’t the first ones here though. Places like this are all through the tunnels and the mine itself. They’re old, much older than the new temple and maybe even older than the one that stood before. Nobody knows who built them or why, or where they went once they had disappeared. You can pass through three miles of natural caves and tunnels and then suddenly reach stairs like these, or one of the bridges further down.”

The stairs took them down through the darkness until Wynn’s legs ached. No chemlamps were strung on the walls here and they travelled purely by the light of the small lamps on their helmets. It was a weak light that shook with each step and Wynn found himself reaching for the wall with one hand to steady himself. Skerth didn’t slow and finally led them out to a plain tunnel and then to a broader passage set with cart tracks.

“We stay out of here as much as we can,” he told Wynn, waving him back against a wall that curved away from the tracks. “This is a hauling shaft. The job’s hard enough as it is without men in the way, but it’ll do you good to see how it works.” A faint grinding and clattering sound grew steadily louder as they waited, punctuated by grunts and curses as it approached.

Skerth pulled him to one side as the carts came into sight, loaded high with large chunks of rock shot through with quartz. Four men strained in the harnesses that were attached to the front of the train of eight carts. Wynn pressed back against the wall, giving extra room to the men as they moved closer, each step in time with the others. Two more men worked in their harnesses on either side of the train, with another four heaving at a broad beam attached to the rearmost cart.

“It’s one thing to tell you,” Skerth said. “It’s another to see it. You’ll be on a crew like that soon enough and know what it feels like. You don’t want fools in your way when you’re hauling. We don’t ever walk the hauling shaft unless we really have to.”

Wynn nodded, still watching the carts as they headed up the shaft.

“Come on,” Skerth said, slapping Wynn’s back hard enough to make him stagger. “Let’s see those young arms get some work done.” He set off back into the side passage, winding his way through the rocks.

“Most of the time we do pick work,” Skerth told him, stopping beside a pitted rock face. “You look here.” He pointed. “You can see the edges of the quartz.” He tapped the milky stone in the scarred wall. “This would have had a vein of gold in it at some point. It’s been picked clean and carted out. You see here?” He tapped at the rocks close to the low ceiling. “This reddish stuff is the beginnings of iron. They’d have had that out too if they could.”

“Why couldn’t they?” Wynn asked, leaning closer to see where Skerth was pointing.

“Probably the roof,” Skerth grunted. “Sometimes it’s worth bracing a tunnel. We shore up the walls and roof with thick beams when we have to. You can only take so much out before you risk bringing the roof down on you. Most times it’s not worth it. They’d have had a Listener in here to see.”

What was a Listener? Wynn wondered about that for half a second until Skerth’s words sunk in. “The roof?” Wynn said in a strained tone as he looked up.

“You better pull your head out of your arse, boy,” Skerth said, prodding him in the chest. “There’s been crews down here for ten lifetimes or more taking gold and iron out. Think how much stone that is coming down. How much these walls have been shaken. There are collapsed tunnels all over the mine. Most of the time a Listener gets to it first.” He shrugged. “Sometimes they don’t.”

Wynn was quiet for a moment. “A Listener?”

“Forgefather’s hairy balls! Do you ever stop with the damned questions?”

“Sorry I…” Wynn stopped as Skerth waved him to silence with a sigh.

“Don’t worry at it, lad. I’d rather you were asking questions and learning than staying silent and stupid. I’ll let Terrik explain that one though.” He reached for his flask and gave it an experimental slosh. “Let’s get some water, all this talking has dried me out.”

Wynn followed the lean man through the narrow tunnels and then out through the first of three broad galleries set with large chemlamps. The ever-present echoes of pick striking stone grew louder and more distinct as they went, turning from a distant whisper to something akin to birdsong.

“We’ll take the ladders down,” Skerth told him. “It’ll be faster.”

Wynn nodded, though he had no idea what the man was talking about.

The ladders proved to be exactly what they sounded like. Long stretches of wooden ladder, held in place by rusty brackets that had been driven into the rocks. Wynn peered down over the edge as Skerth adjusted his pack. The chemlamp was too weak to show the bottom of the shaft and the ladder extended down until the black swallowed it.

“I wouldn’t,” Skerth warned him.

Wynn gave him a confused look.

“Looking down there isn’t going to make it any less of a drop,” the older man said. “You don’t want to know how far down it actually is, trust me. Just focus on the rungs under your hands and feet, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Behind me?” Wynn blurted. “You mean I’m going first?”

“I’ve done this a thousand times and then some,” Skerth laughed. “I know I’m not going to fall. You think I’m going to go underneath you, as you piss yourself and tremble your way down the ladder? You’re crazy.”

“I…” Wynn shook his head.

“First rule down here, Wynn,” Skerth told him with a serious look. “Keep yourself in one piece. Terrik will order you around, the others in your crew’ll probably ride you for a bit too. You’ve got a brain in that skull. Learn to use it and you’ve got a better chance of keeping it on the inside of your head.”

He walked Wynn to the edge. “Just go slow. There’s no rush, not so long as your arms hold out, anyway.” He grinned at Wynn’s expression and looked pointedly at the ladder.

Wynn sighed in defeat. Heights had never bothered him but the way the ladder trailed off into darkness affected him more than he wanted to admit. The ladder extended well past the lip of the shaft, allowing Wynn to climb onto the rungs without having to lower himself over the edge. He clung to the smooth wood for a long moment while Skerth watched him with one raised eyebrow. The breath left him in a long, shuddering sigh, and he reached down with one questing foot.

For the first few seconds it wasn’t too bad. He found the rungs easily and set himself a slow pace. Then he felt Skerth begin his own climb above him and his footsteps rocked the ladder, shaking it against the brackets set into the rock.

“It’s shaking!” he called up in a panic.

“It does that,” Skerth told him in a dry voice. “Speed up a bit, I’ll slow down, a bit more distance between us won’t hurt.”

Wynn tried to move faster, focusing hard on the wall in front of him. Now that they had left the ledge behind them, the air felt colder, somehow wetter, and he fancied he could feel a cold breeze reaching out from the darkness behind him.

The climb seemed endless. Without looking down there was no judging how much farther there was to go, and looking up showed nothing but Skerth’s figure far above him. Temptation fought with common sense and sent it scurrying. Wynn glanced down into the darkness.

The light from the chemlamp was blocked by his own legs and he cursed, leaning awkwardly to one side on the ladder to try and get a better view. The light shone down along the rock face making it look slick with moisture. Moss caked the stone in places and a white fungus sprouted here and there, bulging out of the cracks as if the stones themselves were leaking.

He traced the light further down the rocks, following the line of the ladder and then froze. The light from the lamp was weak but it still reached farther down than he would have thought. There seemed to be no end to the drop. The ladder extended down into the dark, into a blackness so total it seemed almost tangible. The fear took him so quickly that it stole his breath and he froze in place, holding tight to the rungs of the ladder as his legs trembled hard enough to shake him.

“You made it further than most,” the voice called down to him. “Don’t worry at it, lad. Everyone freezes on their first time down here. You fill your smalls?”

“What? No!” Wynn glared up at the man’s feet, outrage eclipsing his fear.

Skerth grunted. “Better’n most then,” he admitted. “Keep going, it’s only another four or five minutes.”

Wynn glanced down and then looked up into the glow of Skerth’s chemlamp, his face carrying the question.

“You can’t trust your eyes right here, boy,” Skerth told him. “Just keep going, you can’t hang here all day. Aside from anything else, I’m going to need a piss before too long. You really want to be underneath me then?”

Wynn reached down with a foot, feeling for the rung he knew must be there. It seemed so much further than it ought to be and his mind was filled with visions of him somehow missing the next step and slipping off, his body tumbling over and over as it fell into the darkness that yawned beneath him. Rather than terrify him the idea was somehow comforting. Why not just end it all? Let go? It would be so easy to just let the black embrace him.

“Almost there, lad, just another inch.” The words fought their way through the dark thoughts and then Wynn felt the wood of the rung under his foot. He closed his eyes as relief flooded him and he moved on. In minutes his foot touched rock and he opened his eyes as he looked around him in confusion. The bottom of the cavern spread out around him, loose rock chips littering the ground in the light of the large chemlamps on the wall. Where moments ago the cavern floor had been nowhere in sight, now he stood upon it. As he took in the sight, the sounds rushed in at him, echoes of conversation, the distant noise of picks striking stone. Wynn looked around himself in utter bewilderment. “What in the hells?”

Stay tuned for an interview with the author. 

Anne Boleyn: A King’s Obsession – Alison Weir

About the Book

The young woman who changed the course of history.

Fresh from the palaces of Burgundy and France, Anne draws attention at the English court, embracing the play of courtly love.

But when the King commands, nothing is ever a game.

Anne has a spirit worthy of a crown – and the crown is what she seeks. At any price.

ANNE BOLEYN. The second of Henry’s Queens. Her story.

History tells us why she died. This powerful novel shows her as she lived.

544 pages (hardcover)

Published on May 16, 2017

Published by Ballantine Books

Author’s website

Buy the book

This book was sent by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

—

This is the first historical fiction I’ve read that was written by Alison Weir. I have read some of her nonfiction, and I’ve loved her style, so I was incredibly excited when her publisher contacted me about this book. Hell yes, I’d love to review it. I’ve been fascinated by Anne Boleyn for a long, long time, not the least of reasons why is because Elizabeth I is one of my favorite historical figures, and our dear Anne was Elizabeth’s mother and that’s interesting.

So, yes. This book is a work of fiction, but where so many authors could take huge liberties with the context, time period, historical details and the like, Weir really doesn’t. She is obviously incredibly familiar with the subject matter and the time period, and she really brings it all to life for her reader, layering her book with details and context, which make the story even more poignant as it unfolds.

Telling Anne’s story has to be hard. Most people already know the highlights, so to make this story interesting, Weir really had to focus on all the details that most readers might not be as familiar with. She does this beautifully, telling Anne’s story as a girl of eleven, to her death. She explores a lot of Anne’s childhood and development in foreign courts. These experiences tell a different story of the woman that many know from history. She was, by some, painted as a sort of harlot, a witch, a woman of loose morals, and many of the charges that pinned her were based on those assumptions. Weir’s look at Anne’s childhood and teen years paint her as a very proper, very intelligent and subdued young girl.

Weir gets into Anne’s head, which also helps paint a different picture of this notable historic figure. She explores a bit of the things that influenced Anne’s religious beliefs, her political opinions, and the men that appeal to her. All of this is used to underscore how she approached the problem of Henry VIII, and how their relationship developed. It wasn’t a wild romance as I pictured it to be (despite much of my reading of Anne Boleyn, for some reason the wild romance idea sticks with me). The way Weir portrays their relationship in a very real, very realistic way in the context of Anne’s background.

This is also a story about a powerful woman in a time when women weren’t really powerful, and in that respect it is incredibly humanizing. Anne is a woman who isn’t innocent, but she is a victim of her time period and circumstance. She was incredibly unsuited for being a queen, but a bright young woman who aged far before she probably would have otherwise, and lived a flawed but exciting life that really set the stage for England’s politics for a long, long time after her.

Weir is a fantastic writer. She doesn’t embellish her story, but rather uses sparing words to tell a powerful tale of a woman who shaped a nation. Boleyn was misunderstood in many respects, imperfect, and completely unsuited to her ultimate job, but she was absolutely fascinating in so many respects. She was a woman with big dreams, big ideas, and her wings clipped by time period, circumstance, and culture.

Weir was very fair with the story she told, and the book itself was absolutely captivating from the first line to the very last. This was a fantastic work of historical fiction, and one I highly recommend if you, like me, are rather obsessed with this specific period of history.

 

5/5 stars

ANNOUNCING | SPFBO 2017 – The Nitty-Gritty Details

Wow, this is long, and I really hope it’s clear because I cover a lot.

Before I continue on with this post, I feel the deep desire to say I’M SO SORRY I DROPPED THE BALL ON THE SPFBO 2016. I had everything on schedule, but then my health just slapped me in the face and reminded me about what really rules my life. Sometimes, when things happen, you have to drop everything and just hang on until the ride slows down.

So… SPFBO 2017.

Yes, I’m doing it again this year. I wouldn’t dream of not doing it. However, I have decided to make one small change. Usually I read the whole book and post mini reviews. However, this year I’m balancing reviewing, two kids, cancer crap (again), impending surgeries (I’ve got a minimum of three more this year), and, as you’ve probably guessed, a ton of doctors and associated health drama to wade through. I also have a day job, and my editing business is starting to get its footing.

The point is, I have a lot going on.To keep myself from losing my ever-loving mind, I’m going to change how I approach the first round of this contest. Instead of reading each book cover to cover, and writing a mini review, I’m limiting my reading to the first thirty pages, unless the book grabs me and I end up reading the whole thing. You’ll have thirty pages to impress me, and I’ll probably flip through the rest of the book to get a feel for it, but that’s about it. Thirty pages, and a mini review for round one. Sorry folks, but this eases my pressure a lot, and makes this contest easier for me to approach.

I get emails every time this contest happens from you delightful authors asking if they can pull some quotes from my website to use on their books. The answer is yes, you don’t even need to ask. Here is your permission. Feel free to quote-mine as much as you want.

Now, aside from that minor change, the contest will run the same over here. I will divide the books evenly into groups, which will be announced at the end of this post. I will read 30 pages (unless I end up reading more), and write a mini review. Each group will have a “winner,” or the book in that group that I ended up liking the most. And yes, I will give each book an award, because each book excels at something, and should be recognized for its exceptional qualities. When the first round is over, I’ll compare all the winners, and decide which one I want to move on to the final round. My final choice, as always, will be purely subjective. I will ask myself the following question: Yo Sarah, which book can’t you stop thinking about? And the answer to that question will move on to the final round.

Like last year, I will write a cover art post before this whole thing starts, because why not. That should drop within the next few days, or early next week at the latest.

Wait, there is one other change that I can’t forget to mention.

Sometimes the groups of books in this first round are unevenly stacked. I randomize which book gets thrown into which mini-review group, but occasionally I’ll have a number of books in one group that don’t really wow me to the extent that I wish to be wowed, and then another group where almost every book just astounds me. When I choose one book as a finalist per group, sometimes, due to my own rules, I’ll nominate a book as a finalist that I don’t really think should be a finalist of their first-round group where on the other hand, I’ll nominate one book as a finalist of a group, when I think two could, and should, wear that title.

This time I reserve the right to not nominate a round finalist if I think that group doesn’t really have a book that merits that honor. On the flip side, if a group has more than one book that fits that bill, I will reserve the right to nominate one to two books per group as a group finalist if I so choose. This might mean that I have more (or less) finalists than I have in years before, but I also think it will be more fair than it has been in the past.

I hope this minor modification improves my system a bit, and also works better for the participating authors.

As of right now, I have not received my books yet (a few of you have emailed me your books already. If you’re an author in my group who wants to do that, feel free. I prefer .mobi files if possible, if not, I can work around pretty much anything.) and honestly, I try not to look at my books before I iron out this first post, and think about how I’m going to run this year’s contest. That way, when I group all of the books randomly, it really is random because I don’t know what anyone wrote and I don’t stack my groups according to personal preference/cover art/some other arbitrary thing.

I try very hard to be able to review one group a week, BUT my body sucks at being a body. To the lucky people (har har) who landed me as a judge, please understand that random things happen on a regular basis with me, and group mini-reviews might be delayed while I’m doing cancer crap/Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome crap/my daughter’s kidney disorder crap. To ease some of my own pressure, I’m not going to give myself deadlines, just assume that after the first group’s mini-reviews drop, unless some part of me fell apart (again), or I am dealing with more cancer news etc., then the next group should follow in a week or two.

And truthfully, if my head is all messed up, especially due to cancer crap which really throws me through a mental loop, then you authors would prefer me to wait until I’ve mentally mellowed before I write up your group’s mini-reviews. Honestly, on these unexpected delays, I’m doing you a huge favor. In advance, thanks for understanding, because I guarantee at least one delay will crop up. It’s just the nature of my meatcage.

Anyway, onto the Round One groups for the SPFBO 2017! The finalist(s) from each of these groups will be in the running for that one precious spot in the final round of SPFBO 2017.

Good luck you wonderful authors!

 

Group 1

Pat Pflieger – The House at the Edge of Time

Elizabeth Baxter – The Last Priestess

Bethany Adams – Soulbound

Grace and Thomas Lockhaven – Quest Chasers – The Deadly Cavern

Steven Kelliher – Valley of Embers

Jonathan Yanez – Of Angels and Men

 

Group 2

T.O. Munro – The Medusa’s Daughter

Trip Ellington – Evermage: Clash of Chaos

Joyce Reynolds-Ward – Pledges of Honor

Brian Decker – Lamentation’s Peak

Joshua Robertson – The Blood of Dragons

Linn Tesli – Reborn

 

Group 3

M.M. Perry – Whom The Gods Love

Dale Triplett – Halcyon’s Wake: Faith

Nancy Foster – An Ominous Book

Andrew Rowe – Sufficiently Advanced Magic

Jamie Brindle – A Treatise on Blood and Iron

Alesha Escobar – The Tower’s Alchemist

 

Group 4

Kathy Cyr – Max Hamby

Trip Ellington – Evermage: Clash of Chaos

Taddeus White – Kingdom Asunder

Luke Chmilenko – Ascend Online

Howard Gurney – Twin

Stephan Morse – Once Lost Lords

 

Group 5

Ginny O – The Lone Prospect

Marie Andreas – The Glass Gargoyle

Gemma Perfect – The Kingmaker

James Beach – Ghost Magnet

Elena Bryce – Guardian of the Grail

Kit Abbey – All The Things You Have To Burn