Many thanks to Andrea Lundgren for her thoughtful and considered review of Empire’s Daughter. Read the review here:
https://andrealundgren.wordpress.com/2015/12/21/book-review-empires-daughter/
Many thanks to Andrea Lundgren for her thoughtful and considered review of Empire’s Daughter. Read the review here:
https://andrealundgren.wordpress.com/2015/12/21/book-review-empires-daughter/
Many thanks to Al at TheIndieView.com for interviewing me as to why and how I review books. Read the interview here.
Nicholas Conley’s debut novel, Pale Highway, has an unlikely setting: a
long term care home. The protagonist is even more unlikely: a Nobel Prize-winning scientist losing his battle with Alzheimer’s. Once hailed as a saviour for developing a vaccine against AIDS, Gabriel Schist is slowly losing touch with everything he held dear, until it appears a new, deadly, virus has arisen, one that only Gabriel can understand and fight.
Conley has worked in care homes with Alzheimer’s patients, and this is clear not only from his descriptions of the environment, procedures, and organization of these homes, but from his accurate, compassionate depiction of the residents. Pale Highway is a science-fiction story, but it is also speculative fiction, speculative in terms of what reality is and might be in the mind of a man with Alzheimer’s.
The major characters in Pale Highway are complex and fully developed, and the prose lucid. The plot is suspenseful, and Conley finely balances the reader’s perceptions: is what is occurring in these pages real at all, or is everything happening within the disintegrating mind of Gabriel Schist? Like Life of Pi, the book questions what constitutes reality.
Gabriel’s struggle to maintain some control over his failing mind, not only to solve the medical crisis facing the world, but to hold on to his relationship with his daughter, is presented movingly and realistically. His current struggle reflects past struggles in his life. The novel jumps between past and present, showing us how Gabriel’s past issues have forged his character and determination.
My only niggle was that I found some aspects of Gabriel’s reality difficult to suspend belief enough to accept. Both how Gabriel is given help to do his work, and his ability to obtain the materials needed, led me to the conclusion that the actions must be taking place only in his mind. But that, I think, is a limitation of my imagination, not a limitation of the story; another reader may come to a different conclusion. Overall, 4 stars, for an impressive debut novel.
The author provided me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Originally posted in October.
Creeping Shadows: Rise of Isaac Book 1
Creeping Shadows is a young-adult fantasy by indie writer Caroline Peckham. Building on some of the best traditions of British children’s and young-adult writing, the story caught my imagination from the first pages and held it throughout the book.
It is truly difficult to find new ways to address themes and memes in young-adult writing. Some of my appreciation of Creeping Shadows almost certainly stemmed from the fact it was ‘familiar’: the opening events and settings, which have elements reminiscent of the introduction to Narnia, or to Susan Cooper’s Over Sea, Under Stone, began the story in a way that leads the reader to expect certain things to unfold, the way ‘Once upon a time…’ opens a classic fairy tale. And the reader is not disappointed!
Wizards appear; a quest is demanded; travel between multiple worlds is required. The challenge required…
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There is something about urban fantasy that takes place in a city well-known to the reader that adds a level of charm and attraction. The Toronto setting of The Tenants of 7C was a bonus for me, but even without knowing the Kensington Market district, this is a delightful collection of connected short stories.
Above the Heaven & Earth Bakery, in an obscure back alley, the tenants of apartment 7C are an eclectic mixture of decidedly non-human characters: a young werewolf, a Japanese demon, and a very young satyr. They share the rooms of 7C: rooms that aren’t in the same dimension as the actual building, and frequently don’t stay in one place. The bakery itself isn’t really meant for humans either, its breads and cinnamon rolls providing sustenance to a wide range of supernatural creatures. How these three co-exist and survive in a their dual world, both with other “others” and with humans are the central conflict of each story.
While in some ways reminiscent of Charles deLint’s books, especially his early work set in Ottawa, The Tenants of 7C focuses on the lives of the ‘others’, not the lives of humans who interact with them. The characters of the werewolf Nick, Takehiko, the Japanese demon, and Yiannis, the satyr child, are not just stereotypes, but dimensioned individuals whose personalities develop over the collection. Nick, who is the protagonist, is especially well-realized, completely believable as a seventeen-year old who doesn’t fit in but is doing his best to manage his life, attending an alternative high-school, worried about his relationship with his parents, wishing his life were easier. It’s just that his problems, unlike most troubled adolescents, involve him turning into a wolf.
Degan’s writing is polished and competent and the tone and structure fits the action and mood of each story appropriately. She can switch the mood from light-hearted or contemplative to frightening in a few sentences, and uses enough manga, gaming and Doctor Who connections to make the stories attractive to a young adult/new adult audience (I verified this with a early-twenties friend), but the stories are also deeply rooted in, and consistent with, older traditions of fantasy. Degan blends these strands of different fantasy genres and traditions well, not an easy feat.
I had only a couple of niggles. Because the stories in The Tenants of 7C are not a linear narrative, but rather vignettes and episodes in a larger world-under-construction, there are some loose ends, sub-plots that arise but are not completed in this volume, and some inconsistencies. I wanted to know what happened in those subplots and to those characters that are introduced but disappear. I guess I’ll just have to wait for the next book!
Overall, 4 stars. If you’re a fan of urban fantasy, The Tenants of 7C is definitely worth your time.
In a Bronze Age world, a child is born on the first night of Ilun, eight days of darkness. Orphaned, outcast, she is marked for sacrifice, but the shaman defies the tribe’s leaders to keep her alive. He has seen in her power beyond anything he has known, power the tribe may need some day. But will she be allowed to use it?
This is the premise of The Raven, by Aderyn Wood. I read an advance copy of The Raven over the course of three days. I would likely have read it in one in my younger days, when the luxury of reading all day was possible,which should tell you how much I liked it. Wood has crafted a believable, internally consistent fantasy world, with strong characters. The story is a classic conflict between choosing and using magical powers of good and evil, and as such has similarities with other stories in the fantasy genre, but it is neither excessively cliched nor stereotypical.
The tribal, semi-nomadic world that Iluna is born to bears some similarities to Jean Auel’s Earth’s Children series, and some to Guy Gavriel Kay’s Dalrei in The Fionavar Tapestry. But these are similarities only; this world stands on its own. Unusually, much time in the book is given to Iluna’s childhood (and therefore that of other key characters), a plot device which promotes both character development and world-building. In Wood’s competent hands the dramas and conflicts of childhood are woven into the larger challenges Iluna’s people face, and as the children mature, the complexity of those challenges increases, mirroring their understanding and role in them.
As Iluna grows to maturity, the scope of her world grows too, and she realizes that her gifts may be of interest and use to her whole network of tribes, and not just her own. Her choices and behaviour are those you might expect from a young girl on the edges of her society but aware of her unique powers, adding to the plausibility – and the tension – of the plot.
I had a few small niggles. There are a few wobbles in the consistency of voice, especially in dialogue, with modern sayings – “Stay safe” mixed in with archaic language – “…recent years have been ill-omened for us.” Wood uses ‘mountain lion’ in the first half of the book and ‘mountain cat’ in the second, apparently for the same species. And, perhaps most seriously, I found the description of the penultimate crisis, a battle scene, unconvincing, lacking in tension and broken by the statement “The fight wasn’t over yet.” Here, I felt, the author forgot the writer’s adage ‘Show, don’t tell.’
Overall, though, The Raven earns a very solid 4 stars. It was an enjoyable read, and one that I really didn’t want to put down. I don’t say that about many books. Available from Amazon.
The author provided me with a pre-publication copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are mine alone.
This is the first in an occasional series of posts about the books – mostly classic fantasy and science fiction – that have most greatly influenced my own writing and world-building. First among these are The Chronicles of Tornor, by Elizabeth A. Lynn.
The Chronicles of Tornor, published in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, consist of three books: Watchtower, The Dancers of Arun, and The Northern Girl. All take place in Arun, a land of city-states and northern keeps, grasslands and mountains, a land where certain psi powers, dance and warfare as two faces of one discipline, and a wider acceptance of differing forms of sexuality and love evolve over the several hundred years separating the three books. The first book in the series, Watchtower, won the World Fantasy Award in 1979.
Hailed at the time of publication as “an adventure story for humanists and feminists” (Joanna Russ) author Elizabeth A. Lynn’s spare, evocative prose and finely tuned characters made me long to be in Arun, but more importantly taught me how less is more in writing. The facets of sexuality revealed in her characters in this trilogy (and in two other of her books from the same general time, The Sardonyx Net and A Different Light), while common-place now, were still challenging readers at the time they were published. Important to her world (and ours), the sexuality of her characters is not an issue; it is an unremarkable part of the society and culture of Arun.
Each book can stand alone, but all are linked by the land in which they take place, the lineage of the characters, and a set of cards resembling Tarot cards. While there is physical action in all three books, it takes a back stage to the psychological and emotional change and growth that happens in the protagonists; it is these battles that are the focus of the stories, and hold the meaning. Lynn brings the story full-circle over the three books, beginning and ending at the northern keep of Tornor.
I first read this series in my early-to-mid twenties – now over thirty years ago- and of all the books I have read and will write about in this occasional series, The Chronicles of Tornor had the most direct influence on my own fictional land and some of the themes explored in the Empire’s Legacy series. My paperbacks are tattered and torn, and one is a replacement, but they are books that will always have a place on my shelves.
What happens when dream and reality become one and the same, and you have no control over either?
Ex-footballer Phil Gordon has chosen a life as husband, father, and pool cleaner over the possibility of NFL fame and fortune. He’s doing ok with the inevitable negative comments this decision engenders, but when a figure calling himself Master invades his dreams, making the same negative comments and threatening Phil’s wife, he begins to be frightened. In quickly escalating action, it becomes clear that Master has control of Phil and his family in his waking life as well as in his dreams, but is he real, or a construction of Phil’s subconscious, channelling repressed doubts and regrets about his life choices?
Master is a short book, 139 pages, with rapid, sometimes violent action, told from the first-person viewpoint of the protagonist. Its tone fits the confusion and fragmentation of Phil’s sudden immersion into a world gone mad, a writing style that is the equivalent of the hand-held camera effects of various recent films. In many ways, the book reminded me of a film script, strong on dialogue and descriptions of action, brief in descriptions of setting and characters, and bringing the action to a finale that completes the story but allows for a sequel.
Phil’s actions – and those of Master – unfortunately do not strain credibility in today’s world; the almost casual violence Master demands of Phil and practices himself exists in headlines weekly. Phil’s insistence that he is not a man of violence has little influence on his actions when his family is threatened; his motivation is clear. I had more difficulty fully understanding the motivation and behaviour of Ashley, an old girlfriend of Phil’s who is enmeshed in the unfolding events.
SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT!
My niggles? The technology that lies behind Master’s manipulation of Phil’s dreams is not really fully explained, and I felt was glossed over; a more detailed explanation of the technology and its effects could have added to the tension and drama of the narrative. The first half of the penultimate chapter reads more as an epilogue, tying up loose ends in brief explanatory paragraphs, before returning to the story. In addition, there were a few small production errors in the copy I was sent, but no more than are found in many books, both traditionally and electronically published.
Master will appeal to readers who like fast-paced thrillers with a strong psychological aspect. My rating is three stars. Master is available from Amazon.
The author provided me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review. The opinions expressed here are mine alone
As promised, here’s my report on Open Mike night for my writer’s group. Now, I should explain that my writer’s group isn’t, I don’t believe, typical. We don’t read to each other, or critique each others’ work. What we have is a space to write, coffee, tea, water and wi-fi provided, and a ‘den mother’ who strictly maintains the ‘no conversation, no phones’ rules.
So while we (mostly) recognize each other, we have no idea what anyone else is working on. So this yearly open-mike night is a chance to get to know each other a bit, as well as read our work. We started with drinks and munchies and conversation, and after half an hour or so of that, our ‘den mother’ got us started. I volunteered to read first, since that meant, firstly, I got it over with, and secondly, that I could then really listen to other work, instead of being nervous about my own reading.
Lights in the face, can’t see the room (this is good); my voice wavering a little at first but then steadying. I read my piece – an excerpt from Reverse Migration, chosen by all of you who voted here or on Twitter or privately e-mailed me. It sounds good, the words strong and flowing. The applause is hearty, more than polite, I think. And I don’t fall down (or up) the stairs.
About ten or twelve people read: award winning authors who make a living at this, and aspiring authors, some of whom read their rejection letters. Poems, short stories, self-help, memoir. A room full of talent, from twenty-something to seventy-something. Supportive, encouraging, genuinely interested in what each other is writing. Nice people. And now we know each other all a bit better.
Thanks to everyone who voted, and to those of you who asked for a report. The world is a better place when we listen to each others’ voices.
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