Sarah Chorn's Blog, page 73

The Wurms of Blearmouth – Steven Erikson

About the Book

Tyranny comes in many guises, and tyrants will thrive in palaces and one room hovels, in back alleys and playgrounds. Tyrants abound on the verges of civilization, where disorder frays the rule of civil conduct, and all propriety surrenders to brutal imposition. Millions are made to kneel and yet more millions die horrible deaths in a welter of suffering and misery.

But we’ll leave all that behind as we plunge into escapist fantasy of the most irrelevant kind, and in the ragged wake of the tale told in Lees of Laughter’s End, our most civil adventurers, Bauchelain and Korbal Broach, along with their suitably phlegmatic manservant, Emancipor Reese, make gentle landing upon a peaceful beach, beneath a quaint village above the strand and lying at the foot of a majestic castle, and therein make acquaintance with the soft-hearted and generous folk of Spendrugle, which lies at the mouth of the Blear River and falls under the benign rule of the Lord of Wurms in his lovely keep.

Make welcome, then, to Spendrugle’s memorable residents, including the man who should have stayed dead, the woman whose prayers should never have been answered, the tax collector everyone ignores, the ex-husband town militiaman who never married, the beachcomber who lives in his own beard, and the now singular lizard cat who used to be plural, and the girl who likes to pee in your lap. And of course, hovering over all, the denizen of the castle keep, Lord –

Ah, but there lies this tale, and so endeth this blurb, with one last observation: when tyrants collide, they have dinner.

And a good time is had by all.

208 pages (paperback)

Published on July 8, 2014

Published by Tor

Author’s webpage 

This book was sent for me to review by the publisher.

—

I’m a huge Steven Erikson fan. That’s no secret to anyone who has even a passing interest in my website. The man does epic fantasy right. I love his characters, his magic, and the staggering depth of his world. However, until now, I have never read one of his novellas. I’m still suffering from some weird sort of book hangover from the end of the Malazan series, and I never really wanted to find out what Erikson could do with a novella. I wasn’t sure that the man’s talent could be parsed into something smaller. I stayed away from them.

Until now.

It probably wasn’t the best idea for me to start off with the fifth novella in this series of Bauchelian and Korbal Broach stories. I can pretty much guarantee you that if you aren’t already familiar with the Malazan world, a lot of the nuances here might be lost on you. However, I am familiar with the Malazan world, and I loved these two characters when I ran across them in that series. I decided that my novella experience with Erikson would start with this book and….

I really loved it.

I can’t speak for the rest of the series of novellas, but The Wurms of Blearmouth felt like a stand-alone story, chapters that could have fit into the overall Malazan saga, but were left out to stand on their own for one reason or another. While that may or may not actually be the case (I really don’t know), it works well. Erikson felt a lot more lighthearted in this novella than I expected, and that really let me sit back and just enjoy this novella. This novel is akin to cake. You start it knowing you’ll like it. Pretty soon you’ve eaten half the cake and all you can think about is how you want more, more, more!

Bauchelian and Korbal Broach are names that will be instantly familiar to just about every Malazan reader. They were incredibly unique characters that stuck out for numerous reasons. They were weird, hard to pin down and fully understand, and had a dark subversive humor that instantly made me a fan. Erikson plays on all of those aspects of their characters in The Wurms of Blearmouth. He takes what he developed in his Malazan series (and I’m sure in previous novellas) and really runs with it. The thing is, despite the fact that this is a novella, not being hammered into the Malazan group of novels made the whole thing feel a lot more liberated and free than I expected. This was a novella I could enjoy because I felt like enjoying it.

There is tension, and memorable characters. In fact, it truly surprised me just how much character building Erikson could pack into a novella. Word count doesn’t mean much when you’ve got skills like his. There are characters I was introduced to in this novella that will stick with me just as assuredly as Bauchelian and Korbal Broach.

Perhaps the most interesting part of this novella, for a lot of reasons, is just how Erikson managed to make a parody of many character tropes. For example, the villain is so over-the-top he’s laughable. He is prone to long speeches where he really doesn’t say anything at all, and then leave his rather laughably inept scribe to filter out the important bits and make him sound smart. Furthermore, even the names of some of the characters are pretty hilarious, like Spilgit Purrble. I’m not sure why that name is so hilarious to me, but I’m still chuckling about it (and him) long after I read the novel.

There’s some hilarious dialogue, and some fascinating character evolutions. The plot moves fast, and it kept me laughing, which honestly surprised me. I never really equated Steven Erikson with Terry Pratchett-esque humor before, but now I do. At two hundred pages, this is a fairly short novel. I expected it to feel too short (which is why I rarely read novellas), but it felt just right.

While it seems like much of what happens is fairly surface level, Erikson has a way with writing that will force readers to look at what is being said (and left unsaid) closely. This is a book that will keep you laughing, but a lot of the true magic of the novel is contained in all the nuances that readers might overlook if they don’t look hard enough.

By this point it’s pretty clear that I’m saying a lot without really saying anything at all about the plot. I went into this novel not knowing what to expect in any aspect, and part of the reason I was so charmed was because the discovery was just as fun as the experience. I don’t really want to rob my readers from that by giving summaries and pulling quotes out of the novel.

All I can really say is, this book impressed me. It absolutely astounded me. I plan on going back and reading all the books in this series of novellas. I think it’s pretty criminal that I haven’t read them before now. The Wurms of Blearmouth is fantastic in every respect. I truly enjoyed seeing this new, fun, charming, and still deceptively deep side to one of my favorite authors.

 

5/5 stars

The Master of Whitestorm – Janny Wurts

About the Book

Korendir’s name was the stuff of legend… Man of mystery…deadly mercenary…obsessed adventurer… From a life of misery, chained as a galley slave under the whips of the marauding Mhurgai, Korendir contrived an escape against impossible odds, only to gamble his hard-won freedom against ever more deadly stakes – in a world endangered by elementals, shape-changers, demons and perilous wizardry. Even Haldeth, fellow captive at the oar and his only accepted friend, can not understand what drives Korendir to repeated risk.

413 pages (Paperback)

Author’s webpage

This book was sent for me to review by the author.  

—

Janny Wurts can tell one hell of a story. She has some of the most distinctive writing I have run across – lyrical and flowing, but deep enough to need some scuba gear at times. She is also incredibly underrated for her phenomenal skill. She’s been an important player in the SpecFic genre for quite a long time, and writes some of the most epic fantasy a person could ever want to read.

Why more people haven’t jumped into the depths that only Janny Wurts can gracefully navigate, I will never know.

When she approached me, asking me if I’d like to review the audiobook version of The Master of Whitestorm, I jumped on it. Incidentally, this was my very first audiobook, and it took some time to get used to, but once I did, I really enjoyed how I could do other things while I listened to the book – like cook dinner or play with my kid.

The Master of Whitestorm starts off with plenty of tension, on a slave ship. Quickly things escalate and the plot moves forward in a fast and furious pace. In typical Wurts fashion, readers are introduced to two characters that are incredibly emotional, Korendir being one of the most compelling characters due to emotion, empathy, and sheer force of will.

The motivations in The Master of Whitestorm are apparent from the start, and while they shift and change throughout the book, the goal (once it’s been decided upon) is evident. That’s part of the joy of the book – readers know exactly where they are going. The surprise is how they get there. It’s somewhat liberating to read a book where the questions are focused on how the characters will get from point A to point B, rather than where they’ll end up when its over.

These days authors are trying to jazz up fantasy any way they can. We have steampunk, urban fantasy, grimdark, and so many more subgenres that authors are exploring. While that exploration is fantastic, and I’m fully enjoying the diversity in SpecFic, there is something really refreshing about going back to the roots of the genre. The Master of Whitestorm is a good old-fashioned quest/adventure story.

While that might seem fairly surface level, the characters go through a lot of development, which is subtly handled and packs quite a punch for readers. And while much of the book feels like interesting test after interesting test, the tests are, well, interesting and they add some delicious tension to the plot. The development for Korendir’s development is natural and feels in tune with the situations he finds himself in.

The Master of Whitestorm is a standalone novel, which is rather refreshing in a genre where so many novels are part of a series. It also happens to be a fantastic, rather light, introduction to Janny Wurts. If you really want to read an epic fantasy series, check out Ms. Wurts’ Wars of Light and Shadow. It is absolutely amazing. However, if you want to know what her style is like before you take the epic fantasy plunge, this is the book you’ll want to read.

The Master of Whitestorm is a pretty fast read. It’s got a relentless pace, and a surprising amount of depth. While this book is a perfect introduction for anyone curious about Janny Wurts, the real glory of The Master of Whitestorm is the fact that it will bring readers back to their fantasy roots. Read this book to remind yourself why you love this genre in the first place.

Janny Wurts is an incredible author, and I think it is criminal that she’s not better known. The Master of Whitestorm is a great way to start exploring what she has to offer.

 

4/5 stars

The Seat of Magic – J. Kathleen Cheney

About the Book

Magical beings have been banned from the Golden City for decades, though many live there in secret. Now humans and nonhumans alike are in danger as evil stalks the streets, growing more powerful with every kill….

It’s been two weeks since Oriana Paredes was banished from the Golden City. Police consultant Duilio Ferreira, who himself has a talent he must keep secret, can’t escape the feeling that, though she’s supposedly returned home to her people, Oriana is in danger.

Adding to Duilio’s concerns is a string of recent murders in the city. Three victims have already been found, each without a mark upon her body. When a selkie under his brother’s protection goes missing, Duilio fears the killer is also targeting nonhuman prey.

To protect Oriana and uncover the truth, Duilio will have to risk revealing his own identity, put his trust in some unlikely allies, and consult a rare and malevolent text known as The Seat of Magic….

400 pages (paperback)

Published on July 1, 2014

Published by Roc

Author’s webpage

This book was sent for me to review by the publisher.

—

The first thing I want to address regarding this book is the cover art. I always take books with me to work because I get some precious reading done during my breaks. Sometimes my coworkers will comment on the books I read based on the cover art. I have honestly never had so many people ask me what I was reading based on the alluring cover art before. So, the results of my unofficial, unprofessional study are as follows. This cover art is classy and eye catching, and I gave out more book, series, and author information to people purely based on the cover art than I’ve ever done before.

So there is that.

The Seat of Magic is the second book in The Golden City series. While I do recommend starting with the first book, new readers might be able to start here with minimal struggling. However, if you do start here, expect to spend some time getting used to the world, cultures, and the tensions that are at play. Cheney has a way with creating a world that is both mysterious and real at the same time. Past Portugal isn’t a place I’ve ever spent much literary time in, but Cheney makes it so vibrant that I feel like I could live there, or have visited at some time. The world is seamless, natural, and easy to sink into.

In fact, that’s probably what I noticed about The Seat of Magic more than it’s predecessor The Golden City. While The Golden City was easy to enjoy, it felt more forced than The Seat of Magic. Cheney has already done all the heavy lifting, and it pays off. The foundation has been built, and it is a firm one. In The Seat of Magic she is free to embellish, add layers, smooth out some details that seemed a bit loud in the previous book. Due to that, Cheney expands quite a bit on the political situation, and she adds some family, friend, and personal relationships for some great depth.

All of this makes the world itself feel a lot larger, not really in dimensions on a map, but in the reality of it all (if that makes any sense at all). Before The Golden City was interesting. Now, in The Seat of Magic, it’s real. That’s a huge difference. While there is plenty of politics and relationship dynamics at play, Cheney keeps them easy to absorb, and somehow manages to make all of them from being overwhelming to readers.

For the most part, despite some trauma that happens at the start of the book which can make the start feel a little slow, things pick up almost directly after where things left off in the previous book. The family dynamics really allow readers to get a different perspective into their two main protagonists. The story is mostly told from Duilio and Oriana’s perspectives, but occasionally Joaquim’s voice would tell a bit of the story. While I appreciated how he added a different dynamic to the things that were happening, I did find myself less interested in his sections of the book, and occasionally it caused the book to feel a touch uneven.

Duilio and Oriana were set up for a potential romance in the previous book, and I really and to give Cheney a tip of my imaginary hat for how she handles their affection in The Seat of Magic. It’s a slow, subtle burn that adds some real tension to the plot but never skips ahead. While Duilio and Oriana are more comfortable together, and their attraction is obvious, they haven’t known each other long, and Cheney deals with it naturally. These are two people getting to know each other, and it felt very real.

The Seat of Magic moves pretty quickly. Oriana and Duilio are both more certain of themselves and their relationship to the world and politics around them. They felt more adult, and due to that, I could really enjoy the book and what happens in it rather than wait for the two protagonists to have some sort of revelation regarding their place in the world.

While The Golden City was a book I truly enjoyed, The Seat of Magic stands head and shoulders aboveit. Cheney felt more confident. Her world was more dynamic and real. Her characters seemed far more comfortable in their own skin. The politics and family relationships added a depth that I really appreciated. The plot was fast moving. The Seat of Magic shows Cheney’s skill. This is a series I loved from the start, but now I feel really invested. I want more.

 

4/5 stars

EXCERPT – The Wurms of Blearmouth by Steven Erikson (+ U.S. GIVEAWAY)

All you really have to do is say “Steven Erikson” and I come running. I’m a huge fan. HUGE. FAN. That man, and just about anything that applies to him, always has a spot on my website. I will bend over backwards to make it happen. Why? Because he’s probably my absolute favorite author, and I’m all about promoting my favorite authors. I like to get people excited about the things that have me excited.

The Wurms of Blearmouth, a novella, is on sale now. I’ve read it. I loved it (review will go live sometime this week). It is a Bauchelain & Korbal Broach novel, and while it had all of the Erikson genius at play, there was quite a bit of Terry Pratchett-esque humor as well. It was an aboslute delight to read, and I will regale you with the details someday soon. I should add, while this is the fifth novella in this series of novellas, it is the first one I read. While I’m sure I’d appreciate it more if I’ve read the four previous, I really didn’t feel like it impacted my enjoyment too much. However, I do think it is absolutely essential to be acquainted with the Malazan world to really appreciate it fully.

So there’s that, for those of you who might want to enter the giveaway and are curious.

Thanks to Tor and the author for letting me host this excerpt and giveaway.  You will find GIVEAWAY details at the end of this post.

—

 

 

 

The Wurms of Blearmouth

By Steven Erikson

Tor Books

Hardcover: 978-0-7653-2426-9

$24.99 U.S. | 208 Pages

http://us.macmillan.com/thewurmsofblearmouth/StevenErikson

 

Excerpt: Pages 7-16

“Behold!” Arms spread wide and braced against the wind, Lord Fangatooth Claw the Render paused and glanced back at Scribe Coingood. “See how this bold perch incites me to declamation, Scribe?” His narrow, hawkish features darkened. “Why are you not writing?”

Scribe Coingood wiped a drip from his nose, worked his numb fingers for a moment, and then scratched out the one word onto the tablet. Here atop the high tower, it was so cold that the wax on the tablet had chipped and flaked beneath the polished bone point of his scribe. He could barely make out the word he had just written, and the biting ice in his eyes didn’t help matters. Squinting against the buffeting wind, he hunched down, pulling tighter his furs, but that did nothing to ease his shivering.

He cursed his own madness that had brought him to West Elingarth’s Forgotten Holding. He also cursed this insane sorcerer for whom he now worked. He cursed this rotting keep and its swaying tower. He cursed the town below: Spendrugle of Blearmouth was a hovel, its population cowering under the tyranny of its new lord. He cursed the abominable weather of this jutting spur of land, thrashed by the wild ocean on three sides on most days, barring those times when the wind swung round to howl its way down from the north, cutting across the treeless blight that stretched inland all the way to yet another storm-wracked ocean, six days distant. He cursed his mother, and the time when he was seven and looked in on his sister’s room and saw things—oh, what was the point? There were plenty of reasons a man had to curse, and with infernal intimacy he knew most of them.

His dreams of wealth and privilege had suffered the fate of a lame hare on the Plain of Wolves, chewed up and torn to bits; and the wind had long since taken away those tattered remnants: the tufts of blood-matted fur, the wisps of white throat-down, and the well-gnawed splinters of bone. All of it gone, scattered across the blasted landscape of his future.

Chewing on the end of his graver, Coingood considered setting that description down in his secret diaries. A lame hare on the Plain of Wolves. Yes, that’s me all right … was that me or my dreams, that hare? Never mind, it’s not like there’s a difference. Not when he was huddled here atop the tower, miserably subject to his lord’s whim, and Hood knew, a manic, eye-gleaming whim it was.

“Have you written it down now, Scribe? Gods below, if I’d known you were so slow I would never have hired you! Tell me, what did I say? I’ve forgotten. Read it back, damn you!”

“M-m-master, y’said … er … ‘Behold!’”

“Is that it? Didn’t I say anything more?”

“S-s-something ’bout a bold p-p-perch, M-m-milord.”

Lord Fangatooth waved one long-fingered, skeletal hand. “Never mind that. I’ve told you about my asides. They’re just that. Asides. Where was I?”

“‘Behold!’”

The lord faced outward again, defiant against the roaring seas, and struck a pose looming ominously over the town. “Behold! Oh, and note my widespread arms as I face this wild, whore-whipped sea. Oh, and that wretched town directly below, and how it kneels quivering like an abject slave. Note, too, the grey skies, and that fierce colour of … grey. What else? Fill the scene, fool!”

Coingood started scratching furiously on the tablet.

Watching him, Fangatooth made circular, tumbling motions with one hand. “More! Details! We are in the throes of creativity here!”

“I b-b-beg you, m-m-milord, I’m j-j-just a s-s-scribe, n-n-not a poet!”

“Anyone who can write has all the qualifications necessary for artistic genius! Now, where was I? Oh, right. Behold!” He fell silent, and after a long, quivering moment, he slowly lowered his arms. “Well,” he said. “That will do for now. Go below, Scribe, and stoke up the fires and the implements of torture. I feel in need of a visit to my beloved brother.”

Coingood hobbled his way to the trapdoor.

“Next time I say ‘Behold!’,” Fangatooth said behind him, “don’t interrupt!”

“I w-w-won’t, M-m-milord. P-p-promise!”

*   *   *

“There he was again!” Felittle hissed through chattering teeth. “You seen him too, didn’t you? Say you did! It wasn’t just me! Up on that tower, arms out to the sides, like a … like a … like a mad sorcerer!”

Spilgit Purrble, deposed Factor of the Forgotten Holding yet still trapped in the town of Spendrugle of Blearmouth, at least until winter’s end, peered across at the young woman now struggling to close the door to his closet-sized office. Snow had melted and then refrozen across the threshold. He’d need to take a sword to that at least one more time, so that he could officially close up for the season and retreat back to the King’s Heel. As it was, his last day maintaining any kind of office for the backstabbing mob ruling the distant capital and, ostensibly, all of Elingarth, promised to be a cold one.

Even the arrival of Felittle, here in these crowded confines, with her soft red cheeks and the overdone carmine paint on her full lips, and those huge eyes so expansive in their blessed idiocy, could do little to defeat the insipid icy draught pouring in past her from around the mostly useless door. Spilgit sighed and reached for his tankard. “I’ve warmed rum in that kettle, mixed with some wine and crushed blackgem berries. Would you like some?”

“Ooh!” She edged forward, her quilted coat smelling of smoke, ale and her mother’s eye-watering perfume that Spilgit privately called Whore Sweat—not that he’d ever utter that out loud. Not if he wanted to get what he wanted from this blissful child in a woman’s body. And most certainly never to that vicious hag’s face. While Felittle’s mother already despised him, she’d not yet refused his coin and he needed to keep it that way for a few more months, assuming he could find a way of stretching his fast-diminishing resources. After that …

Felittle was breathing fast as Spilgit collected the kettle from its hook above the brazier and poured out a dollop into the cup she’d taken down from the shelf beside the door. He considered again the delicious absence of guilt that accompanied his thoughts of stealing Felittle away from her tyrant of a mother; away from this miserable village that stank of fish all summer and stank of the people eating that fish all winter; away from her mother’s whores and the sordid creatures that crawled into the King’s Heel every day eager for more of the old wick-dipping from that gaggle of girls only a blind man would find attractive, at least until the poor fool’s probing fingers broke through the powdery sludge hiding their pocked faces. Away, then, and away most of all, from that deranged sorcerer who’d usurped his own brother to carve out, in broken bones, spilled blood and the screaming of endless victims, his private version of paradise.

Oh, there was no end to the horrors of this place, but Lord Fangatooth Claw sat atop them all like a king on a throne. How Spilgit hated sorcerers!

“You’re still shivering, darling,” he said to Felittle. “Drink that down and have another, and come closer. Now, with only this one chair, well, sit on my lap again, will you. That’s surely one way to get warm.”

She giggled, swinging her not-ungenerous backside onto him and then leaning back with one arm snaking round the back of his neck. “If Mother saw this, she’d hack off your mast and roast it on a fire till it was burnt crisp!”

“But my sweetheart, are we not dressed? Is this not entirely proper, given the cold and the cramped conditions of this office?”

“Oh, and who else do you do this with?”

“No one, of course, since you are the only person to ever visit me.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but he knew it to be an act, since she well knew that he entertained only her. Felittle missed nothing in this village. She was its eyes and ears and, most of all, its mouth, and it was remarkable to Spilgit that such a mouth could find fuel to race without surcease day after day, night upon night. There were barely two hundred people in Spendrugle, and not one of them could be said to be leading exciting lives. Perhaps there was a sort of cleverness in Felittle, after all, in the manner of her soaking in everything that it was possible to know in Spendrugle, and then spewing it all back out with impressive accuracy. Indeed, she might well possess the wit to match a … a …

“Blackgem berries make me squirt, you know.”

“Excuse me?”

“Squirt water, of course! What else would I squirt? What a dirty mind you have!”

… sea-sponge? “Well, I didn’t know that. I mean, how could I, since it’s such a … well, a private thing.”

“Not for much longer,” she said, taking another mouthful.

Spilgit frowned, only now feeling the unusual warmth in his lap. “You call that a squirt?”

“Well,” she said, “it’s just that it got me all excited!”

“Really? Oh, then should we—”

“Not you, silly! Fangatooth! On the tower, with his arms spread wide like I said!”

“Alas, I didn’t see any of that, Felittle. Busy as I was in here, putting things in order and all. Even so, for the life of me I can’t see what it was that excited you about such a scene. He does that most mornings, after all.”

“I know that, but this morning it was different. Or at least I thought it was.”

“Why?”

“Well,” she paused to drink down the rum, gusted out a sweet sigh, and then made a small sound. “Oop, it’s all going now, isn’t it?”

Spilgit felt the heat spreading in his crotch, and then his thighs as it pooled in the chair. “Ah, yes…”

“Anyway,” she continued, “I thought he was looking at the wreck, you see? But I don’t think he was. I mean—”

“Hold on, darling. A moment. What wreck?”

“Why, the one in the bay, of course! Arrived last night! You don’t know anything!”

“Survivors?”

She shrugged. “Nobody’s been down to look yet. Too cold.”

“Gods below!” Spilgit pushed her from his lap. He rose. “I need to change.”

“You look like you peed yourself! Hah hah!”

He studied her for a moment, and then said, “We’re heading down, darling. To that wreck.”

“Really? But we’ll freeze!”

“I want to see it. You can come with me, Felittle, or you can run back to your ma.”

“I don’t know why you two hate each other. She only wants what’s best for me. But I want to do what her girls do, and why not? It’s a living, isn’t it?”

“You’re far too beautiful for that,” Spilgit said.

“That’s what she says!”

“And she’s right, on that we’re agreed. The thing we don’t agree on is what your future is going to look like. You deserve better than this horrible little village, Felittle. She’d as much as chain you down if she thought she could get away with it. It’s all about her, what she wants you to do for her. Your ma’s getting old, right? Needing someone to take care of her, and she’ll make you a spinster if you let her.”

Her eyes were wide, her breaths coming fast. “Then you’ll do it?”

“What?”

“Steal me away!”

“I’m a man of my word. Come the spring, darling, we’ll swirl the sands, flatten the high grasses and flee like the wind.”

“Okay, I’ll go with you!”

“I know.”

“No, down to the wreck, silly!”

“Right, my little sea-sponge. Wait here, then. I need go back to the Heel and change … unless you need to do the same?”

“No, I’m fine! If I go back Ma will see me and find something for me to do. I’ll wait here. I wasn’t wearing knickers anyway.”

Well, that explains it, doesn’t it. Oh darling, you’re my kind of woman.

Except for the peeing bit, that is.

 

Copyright © 2012 by Steven Erikson

—

GIVEAWAY DETAILS

This contest is only open to residents of the United States. 

I am giving away two copies of The Wurms of Blearmouth. To enter, you must leave a comment on this post. You can enter until Midnight (Mountain Time) on Wednesday, July 23. You may only enter the giveaway once. I will contact you via email to notify you if you’ve won. You have 48 hours to respond before I choose another winner.

Good luck!

 

The Girl with All the Gifts – M.R. Carey

About the Book

NOT EVERY GIFT IS A BLESSING

Every morning, Melanie waits in her cell to be collected for class.

When they come for her, Sergeant Parks keeps his gun pointing at her while two of his people strap her into the wheelchair. She thinks they don’t like her. She jokes that she won’t bite. But they don’t laugh.

Melanie is a very special girl.

Emotionally charged and gripping from beginning to end, THE GIRL WITH ALL THE GIFTS is the most powerful and affecting thriller you will read this year.

460 pages (paperback)

Published on June 19, 2014

Published by Orbit

Author’s website 

This book was sent for me to review by the publisher.

—

The Girl with All the Gifts was one of my most anticipated reads, but it really didn’t end up being what I expected it to be. I think a lot of people will go into this book expecting something totally different than what they get. Usually that ends up being a strike against the book itself, but in this case the surprise that I got was fantastic, and the fact that the book wasn’t what I expected it to be made me love it even more.

This is one of those books where I think knowing almost nothing about it will make the impact of it that much more profound. Due to that, the book unfolds slowly, but the writing is tight enough to really pull readers in despite that. In fact, Carey’s writing is so flowing and absorbing that reading about the people is just as interesting as reading the plot. You readers know that that’s not always the case.

I think enough has been said about the novel to let most potential readers know that this book focuses on zombies. Along with the zombie theme, you get most things you’d expect from a zombie novel. A ton of uncertainty, and plenty of social upheavals. You have the powerful people, and the downtrodden people, and the people who are completely misunderstood. You also have a lot of violence.

So yes, in The Girl with All the Gifts you have plenty of zombie-licious qualities that you’d expect from any novel featuring the undead.  However, if you know anything about me, you know that I really, really don’t like zombies. I’m more interested in flesh-eating cockroaches from planet Zormg than I am interested in Zombies. It definitely wasn’t the zombies or the slightly predictable social structure that made this book work so well for me.

For a zombie novel, The Girl with All the Gifts is surprisingly human, and that’s why it works so well. These aren’t just mindless killers looking to eat people, often times the humans are just as bad as the zombies. In this way, Carey evens the playing field and really makes all of his characters just about as moral and real as all the others. I sympathized just as much with Melanie and her ilk, as I did with some of the other primary players in the book, and I hated some of the humans just as much, if not more, than I hated the dangers that they faced the the people responsible for them.

The post apocalyptic world was compelling, and that’s not something that I think about post apocalyptic worlds very often. The way that Carey mirthlessly evens out the playing field makes the world that much more absorbing and real. It also makes this book a lot more psychological than I’d originally expected. When you can sympathize and feel deeply for characters on both sides of the line, and when the author is subtlety and ruthlessly blurring that line, the book has a way with getting under your skin.

The plot is fairly quick paced, which is helped by the fact that the action is nicely balanced between internal revelations and decisions and external situations. Like I said above, it is just as easy to get involved in the characters as the situations that are taking part in the world around them, and the slow meticulous way that Carey reveals important bits of information helps.

The Girl with All the Gifts surprised me, not just because it’s not what I expected it to be, but because I never thought I’d be unable to put down a zombie novel. Carey has this way with revealing information that kept me hooked, and humanizing characters I thought were beyond redemption. The plot is fast and the characters are addicting. In fact, this book worked all around. It wasn’t what I expected, but I’m glad.

I have a hard time with thriller and horror novels. Most of the time I struggle with them because they are too surface level and not enough depth. The Girl with All the Gifts doesn’t struggle with that. This novel is emotionally jarring – surprisingly so. Carey not only spins an interesting tale, but he keeps readers thinking, questioning, and deliciously confused as he does so. That’s why I loved this book so much – it has an emotional punch that really jarred my soul.

Give this one a try. You’ll love it. I promise.

 

5/5 stars

Westercon67: A Photo Filled Recap

This week is going to be odd on the website because I’ll be in and out of the hospital for some tests the entire week. I’m not sure how I’ll feel. Today I don’t feel very good at all, so I’m assuming that I’ll just keep feeling worse as the days pass. This will probably impact my reviewing and online presence.

Last weekend I enjoyed my very first convention. Westercon and Fantasycon were both in town, and I got to have a lot of fun at both of them. It was a great opportunity for me to get my mind off of all this cancer stuff, and put some faces to the names that I’ve interacted with over the past few years.

I’m really not that good at being social. In fact, I spent a few minutes of each day at the con sitting alone somewhere wondering how exactly “normal” people are supposed to act when they are around a bunch of strangers. Thank (insert holy thing here) that I ran into Peter Orullian each day. He is a man that is kinder than kind. He let me bum around with him, showed me the ropes, and personally introduced me to a bunch of really cool authors that I probably would have been way to shy to introduce myself to otherwise.

Warning: I’m just about the least photogenic person on the planet (which is why I prefer to take pictures rather than be in them). Also, my camera was dirty for about half of the pictures so they are hazy. Consider it the “haze of awesome.”

Brandon Sanderson was the first author I met. He was incredibly kind and I kind of tripped all over myself mentally when he pulled my website up on his tablet and bookmarked it, and then showed me that he bookmarked it. He was kind of all over Westercon and Fantasycon. I honestly can’t figure out how the man does as much as he does and stays relatively sane. He recorded a ton of very interesting Writing Excuses podcasts at both cons. I listened in on a few of them. It was incredibly informative and very interesting.

I also sat in on some great panels. The panels were my favorite part (aside from meeting all the very cool people) of the con. Very informative, and it was cool to hear authors and other industry people talk so openly about their struggles, habits, hobbies, the things they’ve learned, and etc. Also it was nice to be able to share ideas with these people, and to actually TALK to them without a keyboard between us.

I met Steve Diamond, who runs Elitist Book Reviews and is deservedly Hugo Nominated. I also met Howard Taylor, artist extraordinaire. He’s crazy talented and very nice.

One of the highlights of the con was meeting Kevin J. Anderson, who is the author who got me into SciFi. He was incredibly nice, and I was absolutely floored for about two days that he recognized me, and he knew exactly what my website was, and remembered me from Twitter. He signed my copy of The Dark Between the Stars.  Funny aside, I took my husband to Anderson’s booth on Saturday to show him the staggering number of books the man has written. Anderson saw me and said, “I’m so glad you came back! I want to apologize for that picture yesterday. I wasn’t flipping you off! I swear! I didn’t mean anything by it!” I laughed, because I hadn’t even noticed that aspect of the picture until he pointed it out. I also laughed because he knew who the hell I was (ego = boosted).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I sat in on a reading with Cory Doctorow. He’s an author I could listen to for a long time. He’s very well educated, and he really knows his technology stuff. I hadn’t thought about a lot of what he talked about in the way he talked about it (NSA stuff, net neutrality issues, etc). Plus, the book he’s writing is something I really want to read. I bothered him for a picture, and he was kind enough to humor me with one.

I also got this picture taken with Larry Correia, mostly to make some of my coworkers jealous. I’ve never read his books, but I have a bunch of friends who are huge fans, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take a picture with him. Regardless of whatever the politics of the moment are, Correia was incredibly nice, and had this sort of larger-than-life personality that attracted people to him.

 

I had quite a few long, deep conversations with Peter Orullian. It’s not my place to say anything about what he has going on, but he has some serious career upheavals (the good kind) coming down the pipe, so you’ll want to be paying attention to him. Also, huge thanks to him for letting me bum around with him, and for letting me suck up his time. It really made my first convention something special.

In other news, I met my friend and author AE Marling over at FantasyCon while he was cosplaying Dr. Horrible. I think he nailed the look.

I saw a 3D printer.

And this is the coolest cosplayer that I saw. Color me geeky.

I also SMASHED into actor Kris Holden-Ried, the guy who plays the werewolf on Lost Girl. I was pushing my kid in her stroller around FantasyCon and didn’t notice him. I ran right into him. I looked down to make sure Fiona was okay and apologized about forty times. He laughed, asked if I was okay. I looked up and said, “Jesus Christ you’re famous.” He laughed. We shook hands and parted ways.

Yes, folks. I make impacts and blaze trails.

Cover Art Across Oceans

I’m off of work for a week and a half due to cancer stuff, so I’m finally going through my email and responding to things people have sent me. One such email was from Sebastien de Castell’s States based PR Guru giving me the cover art for the US version of his book Traitor’s Blade (to release in the States on July 15). This cover made me stop and think for a minute. It’s a very different feel from the UK cover (which is the book I got in the mail a few months ago). The thing is, now that I have publishers contacting me from both sides of the Atlantic Ocean, I’m realizing that cover art changes dramatically from country to country.

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t have a clue when it comes to covers. I don’t know why certain covers look a certain way in certain countries. I don’t understand why the feel of a cover can change so much from place to place. I don’t get it. For an example of what I’m referring to, here are some covers that have recently sparked my attention – the US and UK counterparts for the same book.

Anyone care to educate me as to why covers change so much from country to country? Is there even a reason behind that? Or does it just happen?

Do you tend to prefer one country’s covers more than another? Why? Why not?

Any thoughts, or is this something that I think is strange/interesting because I’m weird?

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Alias Hook – Lisa Jensen

About the Book

“Every child knows how the story ends. The wicked pirate captain is flung overboard, caught in the jaws of the monster crocodile who drags him down to a watery grave. But it was not yet my time to die. It’s my fate to be trapped here forever, in a nightmare of childhood fancy, with that infernal, eternal boy.”

Meet Captain James Benjamin Hook, a witty, educated Restoration-era privateer cursed to play villain to a pack of malicious little boys in a pointless war that never ends. But everything changes when Stella Parrish, a forbidden grown woman, dreams her way to the Neverland in defiance of Pan’s rules. From the glamour of the Fairy Revels, to the secret ceremonies of the First Tribes, to the mysterious underwater temple beneath the Mermaid Lagoon, the magical forces of the Neverland open up for Stella as they never have for Hook. And in the pirate captain himself, she begins to see someone far more complex than the storybook villain.

With Stella’s knowledge of folk and fairy tales, she might be Hook’s last chance for redemption and release if they can break his curse before Pan and his warrior boys hunt her down and drag Hook back to their neverending game. Alias Hook by Lisa Jensen is a beautifully and romantically written adult fairy tale

368 pages (hardcover)

Published on July 8, 2014

Published by Thomas Dunne Books

Author’s webpage 

This book was provided for me to review by the publisher.

—

The thing about fairytale retellings is, I am a total sucker for them. Also, when I was little, I was absolutely addicted to Peter Pan. Ask anyone. I watched the Peter Pan play with Mary Martin until the tape broke. My best friend and I used to try to fly for hours. We’d argue over who got to be the “good” Peter Pan and the “bad” Peter Pan. Peter Pan was my childhood lifeblood. Peter Pan was the absolute shit.

Smash those two facts together, and you’ll understand why I jumped on this book as soon as I saw it. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been this excited to read a book in a long time.

Oddly enough, with all of that being said, I didn’t go into this one with high hopes. I had minimal hopes. While I’m pretty addicted to fairytale retellings, I’m generally really disappointed by them, so I go into them not expecting much.

Alias Hook does a fantastic job at turning the tale of Peter Pan on its head. Jensen tells the story from Hook’s point of view, and he ends up being very different than who I expected him to be. For example, Hook is very sympathetic, and Peter is the kind of villain that made me wonder why I was ever obsessed with him as a child.

The story is told in two parts. Part of the book is telling how Hook got to be where (and who) he is – basically, his past. The other part of the book is detailing the current situation. The two timelines are very easy to discern, and the background information is instrumental in helping readers understand the complex situation that is Neverland.

Peter Pan isn’t who you’d expect him to be. He’s a spoiled little brat, and he’s so realistic with that (perhaps a little overblown at times) that I had to step back and ask myself why I ever thought a perpetual child was a cute character. Why didn’t I realize before that being a child forever would, well, twist you? In contrast, Hook is obviously tortured. He is very emotionally complex, and his own inner turmoil was riveting and very realistic.

Readers will find varying levels of believability in the characters, depending on the situations they are in. For example, Peter Pan is very violent sometimes, and I found that a little hard to believe. Yes, he’s a child, but I don’t know many children who are into blood sports. Then again, I don’t know any perpetual children, either. On the other hand, Hook sometimes slipped so far into his own depression and emotional angst that I had a hard time believing that his crew had any real faith in him. Then, we have Stella, who seemed to accept her new lot in life way too easily, and with far too few true emotional adjustments.

The plot is rather addicting, if parts of it are rather predictable, and other parts are drawn on a little too long. It’s hard to put down a book that tells such an emotionally jarring story of character’s I’ve loved throughout my life. Furthermore, regardless of whether or not I was experiencing a plot hiccup, the raw emotions and depth really forced me to rethink a tale that dominated so many countless hours of my childhood (much to the chagrin of my siblings).

That’s probably where the true gem of Alias Hook is. It’s hard to put this book down. Jensen managed to take a tale we are all very familiar with, and make it thoughtful and compelling. There is plenty of action, but the real drama is in the relationships (both personal and interpersonal), and their slow, dramatic, and realistic unfoldings. Jensen made me rethink Peter Pan, and that’s something I never in a million years thought would happen. I felt true pity for Hook. Stella was a nice touch, and the relationships that develop, the trails that are overcome, kept me hooked.

Furthermore, Jensen’s writing is absolutely superb. It is impossible to find fault with her prose. Flowing, lyrical, powerful,  and never a word wasted.

The verdict.

Alias Hook surprised me. Is it perfect? No, but it is powerful, and it will make you look at the stories you heard as a child in a different way. I call that a success. Powerful prose, jarring emotions, and characters that are not what you expect, Alias Hook has me wanting more. Please, Jensen, work your mastery on another fairytale for me.

 

4/5 stars

The Oversight – Charlie Fletcher

About the Book

Only five still guard the borders between the worlds.

Only five hold back what waits on the other side. 

Once the Oversight, the secret society that policed the lines between the mundane and the magic, counted hundreds of brave souls among its members. Now their numbers can be counted on a single hand.

When a vagabond brings a screaming girl to the Oversight’s London headquarters, it seems their hopes for a new recruit will be fulfilled – but the girl is a trap.

As the borders between this world and the next begin to break down, murders erupt across the city, the Oversight are torn viciously apart, and their enemies close in for the final blow.

This gothic fantasy from Charlie Fletcher (the Stoneheart trilogy) spins a tale of witch-hunters, supra-naturalists, mirror-walkers and magicians. Meet the Oversight, and remember: when they fall, so do we all.

464 pages (hardcover)

Published on May 6, 2014

Published by Orbit

Author’s webpage 

This book was sent for me to review by the publisher.

—

The Oversight took me a little while to get into it. I’m not sure if I wasn’t in the mood, or what, but for how much I enjoyed this book, I’m surprised by how much effort it took me to care at the beginning.

That sounds horrible, I know, but it’s the truth. Some books just rub me wrong for one reason or another, and there’s no real logic behind that. Usually I suspect that I just wasn’t in the right mood, as is the case here. However, once I got through the first few chapters, I realized I was being an idiot and just sat back and enjoyed this book for how incredible it really is.

The Oversight is one of those books that will keep you guessing. There’s a nearly flawless mixture of history and fantasy that really brought the world alive for me. In fact, the world building was staggeringly good, from the organizations, the factions, the people, the culture, the secrets, and the cities. The whole thing absolutely astounded me. It’s rare when I read a book that feels so realistic that I can actually picture something like that existing in the world I live and function in, and I cherish those books when it happens.

But here’s the thing, and this probably contributed to why I was sort of turned off at the start of the novel. Victorian England really isn’t my bag. I don’t dig that time period. The manners that so many people think are charming really annoy me. The way people have to say forty thousand words just to say “piss off” (because everyone needs to be so polite) crawls under my skin. However, once I got past my initial knee-jerk “I’m going to hate this setting” reaction, I realized that Fletcher really managed to make Victorian England seem a lot less, well, ridiculous. It’s real, and vibrant, raw and dirty, and it didn’t make me want to scream at people to just “SAY WHAT YOU MEAN TO SAY ALREADY!”

It isn’t only the world that Fletcher does so well, or the characters, but the whole plot itself is very well done. From the very start, it’s obvious that Fletcher isn’t going to reveal it all at once. Readers are thrust into a very dark, rather morally ambiguous situation, and Fletcher basically lets them figure it out for themselves from there. I really enjoyed that about the book. I didn’t know what The Oversight was at first, and I spent most of the book figuring it out. I didn’t understand the mystery that was unfolding, and I spent a good chunk of the book confused because I was trying to puzzle it out. There’s a difference between being confused about the plot because it doesn’t make sense, and being confused about a plot because the author is a genius and wants you to be confused about the plot. This is the second kind of confusion, and the fact that readers will be spending a lot of the book figuring so many things out on their own will keep them incredibly invested in what is unfolding, and the numerous “ah ha” and “Wait…. WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!” moments that much more rewarding.

You know what I’m talking about. I know you do.

The characters are incredibly individual, and while I might say that a lot in my reviews, there is a fairly tight cast here, and Fletcher has a way with really getting into his character’s minds. Everyone is flawed. Everyone has their own motives. There is a “good” and a “bad” side to the book, but the “good” people and the “bad” people are all varying shades of gray, and reside in numerous different likeability ranges. It is very diverse, which I found to be refreshing and helped keep me very engaged, and you really don’t understand the plot well enough to figure out who is on what side of what conflict until you’re pretty invested in the book (which I always appreciate).

The Oversight is deliciously dark, and very subtle. The magic is very well crafted, and the moral gray zone, along with the social, individual, and organizational complexities works so very well. This isn’t your regular Victorian England drama. This is a dark, nicely gothic tale, with a Neil Gaiman undertone that kept me glued to my chair for hours and hours. Fletcher has a unique voice, and a way with keeping his readers confused, but hooked enough to slowly savor the unfolding drama, and truly appreciate the perfectly paced revelations.

I struggled at the start. By the time I was done reading it, I was converted. Charlie Fletcher is a genius, and The Oversight is one of the strongest novels I’ve read all year.

 

5/5 stars

 

 

Wicked as they Come – Delilah S. Dawson

About the Book

When nurse Tish Everett forced open the pesky but lovely locket she found at an estate sale, she had no idea she was answering the call of Criminy Stain, from the far off land of Sang. He’d cast a spell for her, but when she’s transported right to him, she’s not so sure she’s ready to be under the spell of another man. (It didn’t go so well last time with controlling, abusive, domineering Jeff.) If only Criminy wasn’t so deliciously rakish….

Half the inhabitants of Sang are Pinkies—human—and the other half are Bludmen, who in Tish’s world would be called vampires. But they don’t mess with any of the bat/coffin/no sunlight nonsense. They’re rather like you and me, just more fabulous, long living, and mostly indestructible. (They’re also very good kissers.) But when the evil Mayor of Manchester (formerly Bludchester) redoubles his efforts to rid Sang of the Bludmen once and for all, stealing Tish’s locket in hopes of traveling back to her world himself for reinforcements, Criminy and Tish must battle ghosts, sea monsters, wayward submarines, a secret cabal, and thundering Bludmares to get the locket back and allow Tish to return home…but has she found love with Criminy? Could she stay in Sang forever?

395 pages (paperback)

Published on March 27, 2012

Published by Pocket Books

Author’s webpage

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I’ve been really stressed out for a few weeks. The whole cancer thing has really been weighing me down, and it’s been cramping my reading style. Now that my treatment has started, I feel sick, and very emotionally, well, emotional. I’ve been veering toward pure popcorn – the books that take me on a mental vacation. I have need an escape right now. I’ve really craved the sort of books that have made me feel like I’m not, well, me. And, added to that, I’ve been wanting something that tugs at my heartstrings a bit. (I know, at this point you’re saying, “Sarah, you have a heart?”). Yes, darling readers, I’ve been reading some romantic books. Apparently sometimes I need to remember that not everything is stress, worry, and anger.

Weird, right? Well, I’ve needed that sort of thing, and I’m all about stretching my own boundaries, so….

Most romance, even in my romance mood, still annoys me. However, I’m always anxious to see what else is out there, which is why I ended up giving Wicked as they Come a fair chance. I had to kind of force myself to look past the half unclothed, hunky guy on the cover. He’s different enough to make me wonder, but still, half clothed men on the covers of books put me in the mind of paranormal romance (a genre I seriously struggle with).

Wicked as they Come is dealing with portal fantasy (of a sort), which is a type of fantasy that I’m not very good at. As with most romance books, it is fairly obvious to see who ends up with who from the get-go. That’s not really why Wicked as they Come deserves attention. The reason why this book pleased me despite its faults is because Dawson does something that I didn’t expect. There’s a plot here that doesn’t revolve around some fair maiden and her alpha male hunky sidekick beating up all the baddies and saving the entire world whilest falling in some incredible soulmate eternal (nauseating) love.

The actual plot is fairly straightforward and simple, but sometimes it’s the simplicity that really works better than any extreme complexities. The simplicity in this case allows Dawson to really focus on her world and characters, and it pays off. Her smooth writing coupled with her unique, steampunk world and culture, has the ability to instantly hook and absorb readers. Her obvious skill as an author will help readers over any stumbling blocks they might come across. Honestly, it quickly got to the point where the minor issues stopped phasing me because Dawson’s writing was so addictive.

There are, of course, aspects of the world that you’ll just have to accept without thinking about too deeply. For example, in such different worlds, why is the language pretty similar? How on earth does Tish end up in (steampunk) England, when she was living in the South? And I never really did understand why wanderers like Tish so known, accepted, and understood.

Yes, there are problems. There are leaps of logic that bothered me throughout the book. There are world building issues that crawled under my skin a few times. However, a lot can be forgiven in the face of a unique, well told story that scratches all the delicious popcorn requirements I’m currently dealing with.

The romance really is no surprise, but it develops nicely, and slower than I expected, and sweeter. I enjoyed the fact that Tish had her own goals and aims, and she didn’t end up being The One Who Would Save The World on the Arm Of Alpha Male Hunk. Criminy remained pretty mysterious throughout, and never really felt as real as I wanted him to, though he was endearing and his humor kept things light when they could have become overrun with darkness.

So here’s the thing. Dawson writes unique romance. It’s the kind of romance I can get behind. The romantic couple are formed of two individual people, who function independently of each other, and don’t act like one person with two (sexiest ever) heads. The steampunk world, with the fantastic twist on vampires was very well done. Tish was a character I could get behind, and Criminy continually made me laugh. Yes, there are some world building problems, and the plot is pretty predictable, but Dawson really takes romance by the horns, twist it and makes it her own.

I don’t think I will ever be a huge fan of romance heavy books, but sometimes that’s the sort of thing I need to get me through the absolute awful emotional trial my life has become recently. I’m really glad I ran across Dawson’s books, because she is taking something predictable, something that generally exhausts me, and making it her own. There’s a plot here, actual characters, and a fascinating setting. This isn’t really romance, and it’s not really fantasy. It’s just… Dawson. Plain and simple.

And I liked it.

 

4/5 stars