No, but seriously. I opened my Kindle to read Battlefield Earth, and there it was, at the very top of my virtual bookshelf, implying that I’d downloaded it sometime in the last two weeks.
I have, at best, only a fuzzy recollection of possibly doing so.
More concerning, its title contains the word “Arc.”
I am not on the advanced reader team for this book. I am not familiar with this author. No emails have been exchanged requesting a review.
Goodreads claims it was published in 2021.
cue the bookmarkedone panic because nooo I did not leave this book sitting there that long, right?
In case you’re worried, I downloaded it January 28th. Of this year. “Arc” is part of the series name, not an indication of an advanced copy. Most likely it was a freebie someone posted on Twitter, I snagged it, and promptly forgot about it in the chaos that is reviewing books, composing a musical, and plotting the creation of a medieval punk band.
I’m always very careful with my ARCs.
The Kingmaster, by C. A. Doehrmann
Series: Arc Legends of Ellunon, No. 1
Genre: (YA) Fantasy
Content for the Sensitive Reader:
Bloodshed, Epic Battles, plenty of swordfighting, magic, one Man Who Mysteriously Lost His Shirt scene, mind control/possession, poisoning, use of blowdarts (if you have a needle phobia, this might not be for you), some sexist/ableist comments.
Bookmarkedone rating:
⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 3 out of 5.
It’s actually a rather fun read. It’s got a good flow to the prose, one that catches you and keeps you reading so the pages flick by. And it’s quick. Compared to the 1,050-page monster that is Battlefield Earth, I felt like a wizard speeding through this.
It starts in the middle of things, not so deep that you have no idea what’s going on, but so the characters already know each other and have some history to their relationships and the world.
I knew this was an indie book, so I braced myself for the flaws that come with that heritage–no professional editing team, usually the early days of a new writer, some soft spots in the story.
Not so.
A few typos. That’s all. That and the perhaps too-blue background of the cover are the only things that immediately separate this from a traditionally-published novel (and let’s face it. I’ve picked out typos in professionally published books. Even among my favorites).
It deserves being noted. Because to come up with something that polished, to do it on your own, while handling writing, formatting, publicity, and getting it to the grubby hands of hungry little readers–
It’s quite something.
Anyway, on to the book itself.
Allow me to introduce you to our cast of characters.
Kyen of Avanna
Skinny lad. Believes in the beauty and wonder of The Sandwich. Forgets things easily. Wanders off often. Fights for his friends. Very awkward around young ladies of nobility. Doesn’t do physical affection (hugs). Oh yeah, and there’s something about him being a master swordsman and the sole survivor of a kingdom decimated in the last war, of which he is a mythic hero.
This boy. I kind of love him.
Finn of Veleda
Redhead. Also fight-for-my-friends type. Gets woefully insufficient page time. Has ten sisters. Also happens to be a crown prince.
Adeya of Isea
Have you read or seen The Princess Bride? She’s…kind of a Buttercup. Little bit. You know, stunningly beautiful, Goldilocks hair, plays the damsel in distress. Three times. Cries…a lot.
It’s not as bad as all that. She’s spunky and energetic and knows what she wants. She doesn’t let anyone stand in her way.
She’s young, that’s all. And next to two master swordsmen when she’s just learning the basics of fighting, she’s going to look clumsy and awkward.
I like Adeya. Or I want to like her, anyway. She’s kind. All she really wants to do is help.
Galveston of Eope
So while titles for Finn and Adeya are more like minor inconveniences that do not prevent them from hanging out with a homeless wanderer like Kyen–
Galveston is a Prince.
Imagine Boromir, and then add an extra layer of pompishness.
I like Boromir. Galveston–less.
At any rate, he’s still cool when it comes down to smashing stuff with a sword. He’s a former soldier who lost a hand in the same war Kyen fought in–but that doesn’t stop him from knocking down his foes like bowling pins. In that aspect, at least, he’s amazing.
The Kingmaster (villain)
Ah yes! The swishy-swishy-black-cloaked bad guy! Assassin time! Appearing in your bushes with a blowpipe and poison darts! Mysteriously escaping all possible pursuit!
I can’t actually say more than that without spoiling the book.
The story itself?
There’s a lot to like.
the fight scenes are actually…good? As in reading them is interesting because of the way the author describes the way the characters move (and yes, each one has a different fighting style and it’s gorgeous)
Doehrmann knows how to write some suspense and make you care about the characters (Kyen. We care about Kyen. Boy deserves more sandwiches)
There are some eyebrow-raising plot twists (even if I, a seasoned fantasy curmudgeon, had my suspicions)
tree cities
Tree Cities.
less murder than you might expect. Look, it’s a fantasy where the fate of the world is at stake, so there’s going to be some bloodshed, some casualties. But Doehrmann is careful. She doesn’t see death as the ultimate answer to solving a conflict. Especially in cases where monsters can’t be killed.
What I didn’t like?
it’s quirky for the sake of being quirky–there’s no sun in this world, just the “arc.” No implication of what this looks like or how a sun in the shape of a crescent moon might affect the world it shines on, gravity, twilight, etc. (although we do get a green sunrise, which is…frankly, lovely). It’s for the aesthetic, like the names, and doesn’t really have anything to do with the worldbuilding or story.
sexist comments to the girl! You’re a woman! You can’t fight!
cue a round table of literary lady assassins laughing in this stupid boy’s face. Just because we might weigh half as much as you and don’t have the power of a charging bull, we can still stab, slice, poison, and political-intrigue our way just fine, thank you.
ableist comments to the guy–
At first I thought it was a coincidence/sloppy writing, how frequently Galveston’s missing hand was brought up in description. Okay, we get it. He’s missing a hand. Lots of people in fantasy (and especially High Sea/Pirate) books are.
But then we get to the topic of why Adeya doesn’t like him. Not technically a spoiler here, since it’s obvious from their introduction, when he’s presented as her suitor, and she’s presented as…less enthused.
“I mean, have you seen Galveston’s arm? And he’s so old! I’ve tried but I can’t! I just can’t!”
Doehrmann, C. A. The Kingmaster: (Arc Legends of Ellunon Book 1) (p. 191). C. A. Doehrmann. Kindle Edition.
Hold up.
I can see her not wanting to have a suitor significantly older than herself–she reads like a teenager, although I don’t believe her age is ever mentioned, and honestly, who can blame her there?
But complaining about his arm?
(cue furious bookmarkedone noises)
I’m angry about this for a lot of reasons.
It’s not a big deal. It’s not even ugly to look at, it’s just a clean amputation.
He gets on fine without the hand (see smashing up lots of people/places with his sword)
Congratulations! You just made your protagonist so shallow when we were just starting to like her!
There are so many other things to dislike about Galveston that there’s really no excuse for Adeya choosing this one
his personality
his nastiness to her/trying to make her feel small/useless
his casual sexism
the fact that they just aren’t a good fit for each other as people
Need to reject a guy’s affections? Totally fine. It happens. Don’t take your tips from Adeya of Isea.
Other complaints?
The whole Galveston comment has to make me reevaluate another aspect of the book that I dismissed on the grounds of “writer probably didn’t think about it from this angle.”
It’s medieval fantasy. Everyone has various types of swords, shields, spears, helmets, Spanish-style cotton armor, leather armor, chain mail–you get the idea.
They all have traditional, fantasy-trope Eurocentrically-medieval weapons, while the villain has a blowpipe.
I’m going with the hope that the author did her research and discovered it has been used in Western Europe, even if it traditionally is associated with Asia and Central and South America.
Instead of, y’know, singling out the villain as “culturally different.”
You wouldn’t do that…right?
Moving on.
Last thing that makes me squirm is the whole “arcangel” thing. It’s clearly drawn from religious language, and the entire book is characterized by the light/dark, good/bad imagery.
It’s the first book. I don’t know what the writer is plotting for the future, if this is intentional allegory or–just something that happened. It’s something I pay close attention to, anyway.
All in all, it’s not a bad little book.
It’s a fun read, even with its flaws. And it’s got a good moral at its heart:
Stick by your friends, even if they push you away and you aren’t sure what to do, vett your guests better than “dude, that’s a great story,” oh, and make sure that you give soldiers an ample pension when they retire so they don’t start an uprising against you.
I came here for one reason and one reason only. To watch Sophia Anne Caruso be a dazzling good actress and watch a nonsensical fairy-tale fashion show lasting two hours and twenty-seven minutes.
I read the book first, because I’m a nerd.
If you missed the first part of the review, (the book), you can find it here, and if you don’t care, then you can crash ahead. Have fun.
So when I saw the length of the movie, my first thought was, “Ah. A carefully duplicated storytelling event in which every element is meticulously copied from the book and bibliophiles across the world are delighted.”
Well, sort of. They get it pretty close.
There are some differences. For the most part, they’re good differences.
The cast is older.
I did a little poll with the gang I watched the movie with (none of which had read the book) and asked how old they thought the characters were supposed to be. Guesses ranged from fifteen to eighteen, which I thought was pretty fair, going by the tone of the film.
I nodded to myself, smiled a little, and told them that in the book, Sophie is possibly as young as thirteen.
The appropriate expressions of confusion, concern, and slight disgust emerged.
I’m not going to mention all the reasons why it was super awkward and uncomfortable for Book Sophie to be that young since going through it in the book review was more than enough. But casting 21, 19, and 22-year-olds for Sophie, Agatha, and Tedros, respectively, makes a lot more sense. It’s a YA vibe. A PG-13 movie. Teenagers can have fairytales too. It’s okay.
(I have since read that Sophie is supposed to be fifteen in the book…let’s just say that’s not particularly clear in the writing. At all. Especially since Especially since I’ve typically seen it marketed as a MG title, not YA).
The flirting is less like pulp fiction romance.
Only one “boy-who-mysteriously-lost-his-shirt” instead of it happening with remarkable regularity. And the nudity is completely erased.
Yes, in case you were wondering, these were two of my major complaints with the age of the book characters.
They still flirt. There’s still some over-the-top cheesy romance moments (whoops, I fell into your arms, oh look, now you have to teach me archery, darling), but that’s sort of to be expected. This isn’t exactly a serious film.
But the “everyone must pair off and have a date for the ball or be expelled?” Gone. Not even mentioned. It was ridiculous, after all.
Relationships are still sometimes shallow, but now it’s in an amusing, possibly ironic way. We the audience can smile and shake our heads when Sophie picks out her prince and finishes by saying, “Aesthetically it just makes sense.”
The abusive elements in the School for Evil are fewer in number
True, according to psychology, treating someone negatively can at times bring out their negative side as they lash out at the unfairness of their situation. But it’s a little difficult to stomach an actual torture chamber as part of a school curriculum.
The room is still there in the film, but no one gets hurt. It’s more of an aesthetic choice, a visual threat.
Scary and a little uncomfy? Perhaps. But at least there’s no more murder of a “monstrous” sentient individual by a teenage girl.
Fewer unnecessary characters
The painter is gone. The overly-princess-y princess teaching animal communication is gone. The main cast is pared down to just a few teachers, making it more focused and easier to keep track of.
And while we’re talking about the teachers, we do have to talk about the unique acting choices.
Because at first, Professor Dovey and Professor Anemone are over-the-top, “isn’t it all lovely” fairytale princess types. Think Anne Hathaway as the White Queen in Alice in Wonderland and you’ll get the idea. It’s sometimes a little weird, a little distracting.
But when things get serious? That façade evaporates.
The film addresses the superficiality of the Good School more directly than the book. I can’t help suspecting this is playing into that–the two teachers are filling their role, appearing to be princess perfect, pretending everything is going smoothly, even when they’d much rather be themselves.
And while we’re on the topic,
The film version actually addresses the fundamental problems of the school
The idea is a balance between good and evil. Okay. Sure. Whatever.
In the book, everyone is completely convinced that the balance between good and evil still exists–only one of the characters has the power to overturn it.
In the movie, we get to acknowledge that this clearly is not the case.
People who are self-centered but beautiful infest the School for Good. The Schoolmaster claims that the school is the ultimate authority–no mistakes can or ever are made, so don’t bother questioning something you think is wrong. Good has won contests for centuries–but in truth, it’s Evil that’s winning–Good is complacent and weak, and what’s more, the punishments they exact on their enemies are brutal beyond any sense of justice.
Let’s hit the pause here for a second. Because even though this is a little thing and it’s easily overlooked, this is important.
Anyone who has read the Grimms’ fairytales (it’s me, I read the Grimms’) or Perrault’s (yes, those too), Andersen’s (I am a nerd), Asbjørnsen and Moe folktales (you’re getting the idea) or any other number of folk and fairytales, the old ones, before the Victorian era came in and scrubbed the blood off our faces, we know that real fairy stories are painful, dangerous, weird, confusing, wild affairs where people get hurt, punishments are brutal, even Cinderella has some bloodshed, and you don’t ask what is cooking in the pot.
So to hear the Schoolmaster laugh and mention just a few of the ways “heroes” kill their enemies in these stories–we know what’s up.
When people hate something enough, when they are sure of how right they are, of the complete evilness of their enemy, they don’t think about consequences. Maybe you’ve seen this before–the hero has a hard time killing not because they care about the life of the enemy, but because they don’t want to have blood on their hands.
Fairytale heroes aren’t always nice people. And it’s true in real life, too.
We don’t care what happens to the monsters, do we? We don’t stop to think about what’s right, about how it feels to suffer when it’s “what they deserve.”
Punishment is a thing. But it can become torture. Justice is an ideal. So easily, it’s petty vengeance.
To see a silly fairytale spoof movie tackle something like the us/them divide, to say just because you’re in the moral right doesn’t make it okay to mistreat another person–it’s good.
It’s very good indeed.
Diverse characters!
You may remember a few of these from our review of the book. Kiko is still here in the film, sweet as ever, but she’s joined by others from different cultures and races. Just a single look at the main poster makes it clear.
Fairytales are for everyone, from every culture, background, lifestyle, and appearance.
(cue a very pleased bookmarkedone)
And in an opening shot of the School for Good, front and center, there’s a princess in a wheelchair. Granted, we don’t see her a lot for the rest of the film (I failed to pick her out a single time if she was there), but it was exciting to see her. There are curvy actresses on both sides of the Good/Evil divide…although Dot, the girl who can transform anything into chocolate, isn’t the chubbiest one anymore (she’s even more fun than in the book, has an adorable hairstyle, and nobody even thinks about criticizing her because she’s the girl who can turn anything into chocolate isn’t that cool?). The fat-shaming that had me grinding my teeth together in the book is blissfully deleted.
And while we’re here, I want to talk about height differences.
Probably doesn’t seem like a big deal to most people, but in filmmaking, it’s typically easier to have people of similar height playing the main roles so they all fit neatly in the frame.
Sophia isn’t as tall as the other actors. And they don’t try to hide that.
Personally, I think it’s really nice. People are different shapes and sizes, and it’s good to recognize that, to say it’s okay, it’s normal, it’s beautiful even, to be exactly what you are.
And does it personally delight me to have a Small Furious Person in goth-y outfits taking on the world?
Yes. Yes, it does.
Nicer characters and blurrier lines.
(SPOILERS in this section)
I had…a hard time liking a lot of the book characters. Sophie was a shallow jerk, Agatha was so pragmatic and pessimistic. It isn’t hard to figure out which one is going to wind up in which school if you’re paying attention.
But in film?
Agatha’s beautiful. She dresses more plainly than Sophie (not to say I wouldn’t totally buy her gorgeous long coat if I found it in a shop somewhere), but there isn’t as much harping on her physical appearance as there is in the book. Both girls are lovely and unique in their own, different ways.
We don’t start with Agatha griping over Sophie testing makeup on her or cooking with only healthy flour. We see them bonding. We see them saying snarky things about the messed-up little town where they live (face it. The fairytale village of Gavaldon has Problems). They eat together. They stick up for each other. They see each other as equals.
It’s so much easier to make Agatha’s point after that–we’re not all good or all evil, we’re human. Where the girls went after that opening, it’s easier to see how they were pushed and pulled, changed by the choices they made, rather than born into them.
As one of the professors said, we are what we choose to do. Not “what” we are.
(end SPOILERS)
Remaining Problems?
The witch makeup transformation for one of the characters has the stereotypical giant nose and large, pointy ears. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions on why that doesn’t sit well.
There’s still the age-gap relationship between an immortal and a teenager, but at least the girl isn’t barely thirteen anymore, and the two at least look and act pretty close in age.
And there’s the Harry Potter levels of possession, blood magic, power hungering, sorcery and battle.
It…doesn’t bother me because I live and breathe this genre and that’s–just kind of what we do (ay, happy Friday, Jake. Got another “my powers are overwhelming me and blurring my sense of judgement and even though I made this choice I didn’t know what it would mean and now I think I’m losing who I am.” When you’ve seen it all, you’ve seen it all). But I mention it because I know it can be a bit much for people who aren’t used to that kind of thing. Blood oozing from the walls is a bit weird if it’s your first time. Or third time. Or if it’s in like a suburban house or an office, yeah, that would be freaking me out too. I get it. Know what you’re comfortable with.
So…yeah. That’s The School for Good and Evil.
End result? I liked the movie better than the book. Feels weird, but yeah. It’s still a goofy, silly fairytale movie, but there’s some good stuff at its core. Most of the issues of the novel are gone, smoothed out like writing another draft, and all that’s left is to enjoy the show. It’s not perfect. It’s better than it was.
Am I late to the party for a book published in 2013?
Yes.
Am I late to the party for a book that got a Netflix adaptation late last year?
Also yes.
But fear not! The curmudgeon has arrived, so it’s high time to bring the music to a screeching stop and stare in horror, frozen awkwardly on the dance floor, open-mouthed over your plates of petit fours, glossy hardcovers in hand, as I sharpen my pencil and make my villain entrance.
Are we in for another book rant, my lovelies?
One final time, overwhelmingly, yes.
Book: The School for Good and Evil by Soman Chainani
Series: The School for Good and Evil, No. 1.
Genre: MG High Fantasy/Magic School
Content for the Sensitive Reader:
Some mild language; fatphobic, ageist, and sexist comments; a few instances of cultural appropriation for artistic/fashion reasons; heavy emphasis on appearances as personal value; shirtless characters, ogling of said shirtless/short skirted characters, undressed characters–all of these characters are minors, by the way; brief age-gap relationship between a 13-year-old and immortal of unknown age; mild kissing/flirting; magic, spells, discussion of “hags” and “witches,” transformation into sentient animals (some humanoid), murder of est. 12 sentient background characters and dramatic death of 4-6 named characters.
Bookmarkedone Rating:
⭐⭐
Rating: 2 out of 5.
This is one of those books that I finish and want to do nothing more than rub my temples and make inarticulate noises because clearly, you’ll all understand my eloquently phrased reaction to this piece from that, right?
It’s not a great book. It’s not a bad book.
Hence the internal conflict.
First you should hear the good part.
It’s a story about friendship. It’s the story of two girls who somehow overcome their differences and teach everyone around them to look beyond appearances, to appreciate who they are and the power of choices–we are who we are because we decide. We fight for what kind of people we want to be. No matter the difficulty, we choose to do good or do evil.
And the epic battle of middle-grade students clobbering and stabbing and mud-sloshing each other in the last third of the book isn’t bad in terms of fast pace and drama, either. It has a few twists and turns to keep you guessing.
It’s got good descriptions. It’s pretty.
So what’s the problem?
Um. A lot.
First of all, it’s very, very flirty for a MG book. Can middle-grade characters notice each other and flirt? Absolutely. Are they going to do it with the fluency, confidence, and vocabulary that Chainani gives them?
Uh. Probably not.
The kids in this novel are twelve. The age a lot of kids are incredibly awkward and shy around the opposite sex, Chainani’s characters are more than ready to flirt and gawk and kiss and date, Sophie is showing a lot of skin in very modern, non-fairytale outfits (not important to the point, but still), sneaking out late at night for romantic meetings–you get the idea.
And describing boys not just looking at but slobbering over girls?
That’s distasteful at any age.
There’s a prescriptive, pawnlike aspect to affection in the novel.
Boys are a prize for the prettiest girls, and vice versa. Granted, this is meant to play into the shallow, “surface characteristics only” nature of the characters in the first half of the novel, but for most of the characters, this doesn’t change at the end. They’re all perfectly happy to go off with their assigned dates to a party, people they neither know nor like, let alone love. Not only buying into the “a relationship makes me a whole/worthy individual” toxic logic fallacy, but doing it because failure to do so results in getting kicked out of school.
Love and romance! Do it for the passing grade, kiddos!
And actually, the more I think about this, the more angry it makes me.
There’s enough pressure on kids to do well in school already. I live among the nerds, right? I’ve seen it. You want to be smart, you’ve got to be smarter. The world is an ugly, competitive place. Get the A. Fight for it like your value as a person depends on it.
Because, unfortunately, a lot of kids (and teens!) actually believe this. My worth correlates to my academic performance. And hey! Our system doesn’t exactly make it easier. There’s a fine-print implication that if you do well in school, you’ll get into college, get a good job, get a happy life.
Lies. But sure, now that we’ve got life, career, and happiness tangled up with academic performance, let’s just lump romance into the pile.
I’m not joking. Some kids become princesses in this magic school, some fail and get transformed into talking teapots. Don’t pass the class, don’t become royalty, don’t get paired with a prince of equal aesthetic success, and certainly don’t find anyone else who will love you.
Guess only the protagonists get a happy ending in Chainani’s world.
(cue bookmarkedone screaming)
What’s next?
Hmm. Should probably tackle the fatphobic comments.
Most of my issues with the book I’m desperately attributing to sloppy writing. Don’t misunderstand–there’s some great writing here. The beginning is painfully slow at times, yes, but otherwise, it’s polished.
I’d always prefer attributing something to an honest mistake than outright cruelty.
So.
Like with the weird romance dynamic, the comments start as a way to hint at the character of one of the protagonists (hint: it’s pretty clear she’s awful from the start!). How to villainize your character, fast and dirty edition?
Have her say she hates old people
Have her dislike and actively insult/be rude to curvy/chubby characters
…and anyone else who doesn’t fit her standard of “beauty.”
It’s a tool. It’s a foil. I don’t like it, but I grit my teeth and wait for the character development, when apologies are given and the protagonist recognizes the beauty of people as they are.
Except it doesn’t really work. There are two curvy characters clearly noted in the novel–one a student, the other a professor. The student, Dot, is introduced perpetually eating. The professor is…not particularly intelligent.
And that’s it. Dot continues to eat chocolate and be an absolute sweetheart for page after page while everyone treats her like trash, until they briefly acknowledge her surprising, good-natured intelligence at the end.
Barely.
The problem? Dot’s stopped eating chocolate. As if we have to change her character to make her fit.
No.
As for the professor, she tints her makeup to costume as a “queen of Persia” in…what honestly feels like a bad caricature with a fake accent.
Uncomfortable.
Also uncomfortable is the perpetuated blue/pink, boy/girl, protector/defenseless garbage spewed at us on the Good side of the school–apparently if you want to be a good girl, you have to be pretty, sit still, and get rescued.
Are we serious?
Look, I get that Chainani is going off the fairytales he knows, the “damsel in distress trope,” but that’s not how fairytales go. There’s a Grimms’, particularly gory, where the boy dies in the beginning and his sister has to work the magic for his resurrection. Girls take action in fairytales. Sure, they might be at a disadvantage sometimes, but so is the third son, the Ashlad–
I’m getting carried away.
I think this is, again, either poor writing, or setting something up for a series and not finishing it in the actual novel. One of the protagonists even questions the foolishness of all this–but then turns around and buys into the “I’m defenseless” argument.
And when a girl does something, takes some action outside the realm of villainy?
She’s compared to a prince. As if she can’t have her own agency, as if a princess taking action, moving the story forward, is absolutely unheard of.
(screams in angry folklore nerd because did Rhiannon beat all of the knights in a horse race to be called defenseless? Did she haul grown men up a hill on her back because she’s weak?)
Oh, and let’s not forget Anadil. Cool Henchmen No. 2 student with albinism…who is referred to as “the albino,” and during a Cinderella-esque transformation sequence when ugly deformities are erased–gets “chestnut hair.”
(cue more bookmarkedone screaming)
Okay, let’s go with the option that maybe Anadil was self-conscious about her unique appearance and the spell reflected her own ideas of what a conventional beauty looks like–but now I’m in danger of fanfictioning this thing because nowhere is anything like that mentioned. If anything, just the opposite. Anadil is cool because she’s confident. Sure, Hester and Sophie call the shots, but she never crumbles like Dot does.
So why do I like this highly implausible scenario? Because, darling, then I can cleverly avoid the idea that the author would dare to imply that people with albinism are anything but the beautiful, unique, wonderful individuals that they are!
(still more bookmarkedone screaming. I think it’s getting louder)
Let’s move on!
It’s another magic school book.
Obvious, I know. But like it or not, the book is in conversation with the Harry Potter franchise.
Same sorting into opposed houses (two instead of four)
Same teachers absolutely useless at keeping their students out of mayhem
Same Forbidden Forest (it’s blue this time)
Same “gotta get a date for the Yule Ball/Evers Ball or be a loser” rush
Same protagonist determined there’s more out there, they’re destined for greatness, they’re special
You get the idea. If you had to sum up the first School for Good and Evil book, it would pretty much be, “Hey, we know sorting houses are actually not a great way to structure education, but we still want a magic school and can’t think of anything else, so just have a book where the whole point is that they’re bad.”
Okay. We can live with that. It’s a good point, right?
And this is one point that actually gets pulled off well in the novel.
We’re all human. We all fail. We all do horrible things, even to our dearest friends. We’re joined in this struggle of life, good and bad, and in that common ground, we can be united. Our flaws can drive us apart, but they can also bring us together.
Awesome, right? Terrific thing to hand to kids. Look at your friend who’s being harsh or rude or cruel. Maybe there’s something you don’t know. Maybe your kindness can make their life better. Maybe you can make a friend.
As the hours passed, Good and Evil shared looks across the Clearing—first threatened . . . then curious . . . then hopeful . . . and before they knew it, they were drifting into each other’s sides, sharing blankets, crepes, and cherry grenadine. Evil thought it had corrupted Good and Good thought it had enlightened Evil, but it didn’t matter. For two sides soon turned into one, cheering on the Prince-Witch revolution.
Chainani, Soman. The School for Good and Evil (p. 334). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.
The Prince-Witch revolution. Possibly my favorite line in the entire book. Two sides joined together by a symbol, by people who dared to reach for something no one said they could have, to break the rules, to risk it all.
It’s a really great moment.
And then the book ruins it.
Because right after you finish the novel, Chainani has included a note from the School Master with a sorting test. So you can find out if you’re Good or Evil. So the story can continue exactly the way it was going before the novel began, nothing changed.
In conclusion?
Yeah, I don’t know what to tell you about this book. It’s got some heart, but I can’t excuse its moral failings, either.
You know, one of the top recommends after reading a Chainani book is a Chris Colfer Land of Stories book. And I could see that. It has that same blend of research and squishy feel of “this is a kids’ book so we’re not going to go that far. Let’s just talk about glass slippers some more!”
(rubs forehead because Grimms’ Cinderella didn’t even wear glass shoes)
It’s funny, because I can remember getting really mad about a few Colfer books. More because Cinderella isn’t a fighter, that’s not her character strength, don’t throw a plot twist in the actual final page when I don’t have the next book in my lap you evil creature, why is Red Riding Hood–that kind of thing. Aesthetic, personal preferences I can get understandably furious over.
Not usually stuff that’s going to hurt anybody.
When I think about what Chainani’s book was reaching for–you’ve always been beautiful, you don’t need to change, it’s okay to make mistakes and forgive, we all need it because we’re human–I’m just disappointed. I can’t believe the truth Chainani holds in his hands because of so many stupid lies he hasn’t cared enough to squash.
I’d rather a Colfer book that doesn’t try to have such an important moral at its heart, that doesn’t fail to achieve it by such a titanic flop.
You could have been great, little book. You could have been earthshattering.
So the next time I yet again try to pick up and enjoy a YA book, someone please teleport into my local library, shake me by the shoulders, give me Paddington Bear’s Hard Stare, and teleport away again.
I am not a happy reader of YA.
And yet! Every time! The gorgeous book covers! The delectable story concepts! The ease with which the writing flows!
It can’t be that bad, I think. YA fantasy is just MG fantasy aimed at an older age group.
Right. Except it’s really not. It’s an entirely different thing, and if you compare one to the other, you’re just going to get a massive headache and possibly a Master’s degree level thesis.
Where am I going with this?
I’m about to review Julie Kagawa’s The Iron Raven. It’s about to be a really solid grumpy little rant (it’s fun when we do those. Really). But it’s unfair for me to eloquently trash this book for failing to meet my expectations when I, the noble reader, am in fact set up to dislike YA as a genre, apparently down to my core.
Some people spend their whole lives aspiring to be snobs. Some of us just start life out that way.
Book: The Iron Raven by Julie Kagawa
Series: The Iron Fey: Evenfall, No. 1.
Genre: YA Fantasy (modern Fae/Robin Goodfellow retelling)
Content for the Sensitive Reader:
Enough profanity to push the PG-13 film rating, some dramatic sequences, magic magic magic, blood/battle scenes (none particularly graphic), assassins, attempted seduction (mild/moderate), suggested seduction of multiple men and women by one character, kissing, gooey shadow monsters, antisemitic imagery/caricature and other racial insensitivity.
Bookmarkedone Rating:
⭐⭐
Rating: 2 out of 5.
WARNING: this rantish review will contain spoilers for The Iron Raven! Read at your own risk!
Okay. Deep breath. Set the stage.
It’s about the middle of November. I’m in the tiny local library downtown, browsing the half-size stack that is the YA book section. It’s technically the first in-person visit to a public library since pre-Plague days, so I’m understandably very happy.
And I pick up The Iron Raven. Because it’s yellow. It has ravens on it. And it promised me Robin Goodfellow an entire book all to himself are you joking it’s coming home with me.
There was a little voice in the back of my head chiding me that I wasn’t going to like the YA version. This was silenced by corvid brain chanting Puck, Puck, Puck, Puck over and over again.
Another little thing I should mention.
There are a few characters that I am–particular about.
Peter Pan
Robin Hood
and now, apparently, Robin Goodfellow (Puck)
If there’s a reinterpretation, I’m already there with my grabby hands outstretched. If I haven’t read/watched it, then I know about it. Retellings are great.
But if you reinterpret a story so it loses all the core essence of what we loved about it in the first place…
I’m getting ahead of myself. The Iron Raven. Let’s talk about it.
It started out…really well, actually.
I mean, it’s pretty hard to go wrong with a magical Fae market under the shadow of a Ferris wheel in an abandoned fairground, right?
Of course right.
And giving us our tour is Puck, introducing all the things he can use just to prank everyone.
(This is, I should note, after the prologue in which we meet Young Puck and a lot of dead forest creatures…it’s established things are Going to Happen in this book and we’re not shying away from the violent side of Faerie nature. Right? Well…)
Thing is, we don’t stay in the Goblin Market very long. Why am I mentioning it?
Because it’s probably my favorite location in the book.
I have a weakness for magic abandoned circus places. It’s specific. I’m aware.
Let’s talk about the characters, shall we?
Bear in mind, I’ve never read a Kagawa book before. I don’t know who any of these non-famous, non-mythic characters are or how they tie into things.
Lucky for us, Kagawa has no problem repeating herself.
Kind of a lot.
So in no particular order:
Puck (I lied. Of course he comes first. He’s the reason I’m here). It’s Robin Goodfellow! From A Midsummer Night’s Dream! Puck of Pook’s Hill! Everyone’s imagination who has ever crossed paths with him once because he is the unforgettable prankster! In this version, he’s a pointy-eared flirty boy in a green hoodie who swears too much and tells terrible puns that are never funny!
Keirran–emo kind of not vampire Fae Elf Prince Boy who appears to deliver ominous message, take part in one Epic Battle, and promptly disappear for the rest of the book. Shame. I could have liked him.
Nyx–nighttime assassin, required Fae who Does Not Understand This Reference, and required Hot Girl presence in every YA book ever. You know, the one that cannot exist in “closely fitted leather armor” without having some idiot boy slobber all over her–erm–be part of the main romantic arc. Yes, it’s Puck. Yes, I’m grumpy about it. In her favor, she does have a unique appearance to give the rest of the cast a little variety. Shiny silver hair and yellow eyes are cool.
Ash–original emo Elf boy. Pretty sure Puck actually says this at some point in the book. Essentially exists to be Puck’s foil/best friend/worst enemy and nothing else. No character arc.
Meghan Chase–former mortal girl/chosen one and now ruler of the Iron Fae. Good for her. Likes falling into her husband’s arms. Can also shoot lightning out of her hands.
Coaleater–part metal (is he technically a cyborg? we’ll never know) Iron Fae horse person. Honestly pretty cool, but super focused on tradition and honor. Kind of just there to round out the cast, move the plot forward (like the literal sentient machine of Deus ex machina) and chill in the background until someone needs to dramatically battle vault off his back.
The Big Bad monster. No, I am not joking. That’s really the name Puck gives it in the book. Essentially your standard ink blob monster (think Rorschach plus the globby creatures that pop up in multiple Studio Ghibli films and add a few extra tentacles and antlers). Makes you hate life. And probably possesses you so you kill all your friends.
(cue bookmarkedone massaging temples because what do I do with this?)
Look, I was willing to give Modern Puck a chance. There’s not a lot of detail about him in the Midsummer version, which means there’s a lot of room for fanfiction authors (let’s not pretend–that’s what this is) to do their stuff. Green hoodie? Why not? He’s not a suit-and-tie kind of guy. Mischief? Absolutely. Swears a lot? Personally don’t care for it, but it’s definitely a plausible interpretation. Falls deeply and madly in love with a serious assassin after actually falling in love with a mortal girl some years prior?
…excuse me?
That’s…not the Puck I know.
Especially when the Lady in Question is a very no-nonsense killer type.
Puck. What even.
And while we’re on the subject, let’s talk about Nyx, because I really need to talk about Nyx.
Bear in mind, I like her. I don’t really understand pairing Puck with her, but I like her.
Here’s the plot point I take issue with. Nyx is a type of Fae that steals glamour–essentially Fae life force–from other creatures constantly to fend off fading into oblivion. This can happen intentionally, all at once, or unintentionally, uncontrollably, all the time. With me so far?
Okay. Next you need to know that absorbing glamor can change the person who absorbs it. Absorb the energy of the “Big Bad?” You’ve got a snarling, very angry Ent/Goodfellow/Fae/etc. Simple, right?
Here’s my point. Nyx is with Puck all the time. Sometimes quite literally in his shadow. At the beginning of the book, she’s cold and distant. She’s an assassin and a bodyguard. Her one job is to keep her king alive. The regular suffer-in-silence emo YA type.
By the end of the book? She’s cracking jokes with Puck. Specifically, his jokes.
Do you see what I’m getting at here?
Puck isn’t falling in love with Nyx. He’s falling in love with the part of himself that Nyx has siphoned from him–especially after he gave her a lucky token he’d been carrying around since the beginning of the book.
Do we address this fact that Nyx is not going through a character arc so much as losing her identity and becoming a second Puck or the fact that this may or may not be intentional or that she one day may drain Puck’s extensive glamour/life essence dry?
No. They’re in love. That’s it.
Moving on from clearly non-canon material, let’s talk about the plot!
It…reads like a video game.
Now if you like that, it could be great. Start at point A, talk to a lot of NPCs, end at point Z after a lot of Epic Battles and hooray! You win! End book!
For me…I kept wanting to skip ahead, to where things actually got good, but there was no “skip ahead…” and this was the entire book.
Puck gets into Squabble leaving Goblin Market
Puck gains new Companion
Puck goes on quest to deliver information about Squabble to Queen
(Puck goes on Side Quest/character bonding adventure to prevent Companion from instantly dying in Iron Realm)
Puck delivers information
Puck joins Queen on original quest started by Squabble
(cue much traveling, several epic battles that really all feel the same except the very last one where something finally clicks for Puck that has clicked for the reader a long time ago, and that’s a wrap. Let’s not forget to thank our secondary locations, Steampunk Fae Realm, Ominous Forest, Ominous Forest II, Return to Ominous Forest I, Boggy Swamp, and Castle We Stole from Beauty and the Beast)
The battles are equally, if not more video-game-esque than the plot. It’s the classic MMORPG–each character has a different skillset (in this case the glamour powers of Summer, Winter, Iron, and whatever Nyx has going on), powering up time, and spells that require recharging (if you think I’m joking, near the end, Ash literally builds his wife ice parkour steps so she can dramatically hop up them to be at Good Stabbing Height). More importantly, characters can die, but it’s not likely, and even when the possibility is incredibly great…none of the battles really mean anything.
Look, I read a lot of SF/F stories every year, particularly from new and emerging authors, and the question is, if you make death less possible, if you make characters more powerful or completely unkillable, you’ve got to raise the stakes in another way. Even if you can’t die, you can still hurt. Even if you don’t feel physical pain, everyone’s got something they want to protect.
How about the epic battles in J. A. Becker’s “For the Federation,” in Writers of the Future Vol. 38, hmm? Difficult to kill just means higher stakes, even more dramatic fight sequences as time slips away.
Or “War Hero” by Brian Trent (WOTF Vol. 29), where dying means coming back to life to be tortured again and again and again in an endless loop of gruesome pain?
Yeah, Kagawa doesn’t do any of that. She could. She sets it up by telling us once the Fae die, that’s it. It’s over. Complete cessation of existence. No souls to pass on to some afterlife.
But she doesn’t delve into it. Maybe it’s because Puck is never really serious about anything, but even from the first battle, it feels–methodical? Ritualistic? Just going through the motions? Just another Monday at the office?
Danger has long since ceased to hold any spice for these ageless characters, and, accordingly, there is no heart-pounding on the account of the reader, either, even when doing a backflip over an antlered and tentacled hateful shadow-monster should, under normal conditions, be pretty thrilling.
Am I being a little unfair?
Maybe. It’s like I said. I’m not a fan of heavy profanity when I read, and that was pretty hard for me to get past. I tried. I tried to like this new, watered-down, friendlier, “not violent to mortals,” “ask the girl if she actually wants to kiss you now,” version of Puck.
But what dropped it from a three-star to a two-star review?
Early on in their adventures, Puck and Nyx come across an encampment of goblins. There’s a struggle, Nyx kills a few, and lets the last one go when he begs for his life in a silly accent. Puck proceeds to casually call their entire race the cockroaches of that dimension, and Nyx agrees. Later, they pass by another goblin camp (if memory serves me properly), and Puck, under emotional strain, considers how fun it would be to rush in and kill all of them.
Okay! Let’s look at the facts here, please!
These are not beetles, flies, gnats, rats, mosquitoes, or any other type of pest that could cause disease, crop damage, or any other type of major problem.
The goblins here are sentient creatures. Evidenced by their capability to speak coherently to Nyx.
Robin Goodfellow is talking about a massacre of sentient creatures to take the edge of tension off his day–killing for fun.
Okay! It’s Puck! He’s not a nice guy in all the stories! Fae kill mortals sometimes. What’s the difference between that and killing a few goblins?
Well, first of all, there’s a world of difference between playing a malicious prank on a human because you don’t understand how mortality works (the classic function of Puck and most Fae), accidentally killing said mortal, versus intentionally going out to exterminate an entire race of creatures.
Second of all, they’re goblins.
This is a picky topic, and I’ve thought more than a little bit about how to tackle it. If you’ve spent any time at all in the fantasy writing world, you’re probably aware of the huge debate of J. K. Rowling’s goblins in Harry Potter and how they pass on unkind stereotypes and caricatures of the Jewish people. Maybe it’s intentional, maybe it was simply passing down cultural stories without looking more closely at what they might mean. Of course I saw it after the issue was carefully pointed out to me, but I wasn’t really sure how I personally felt about it. It read more like an extremely unfortunate accident than something malicious (although that could be just because I generally like fictional goblins).
But to introduce your goblins not as an independent group in a fantasy world with their own culture, motivations, and beauty, but as something to be carelessly stamped out? To refer to them as cockroaches?
That, to me, feels way, way more alarming.
Kagawa’s protagonist essentially says, “I’m bored. How about a genocide of a sentient people group that traditionally has been used as a stand-in for a real-life group that is currently undergoing serious hate?”
(cue bookmarkeone screaming because not okay, not okay, not okay why is no one talking about this?)
Oh, but never fear! There’s actually more!
Remember I mentioned Coaleater in the character list? Cool dude? Iron Fae? Partially metal? Could probably stand up to just about anybody without flinching?
If I read this correctly, he’s also Kagawa’s POC representation. Dreadlocks, skin tone, etc. Cool, right? Representation for the yay!
…well…
Maybe I wouldn’t have thought about this so much if I hadn’t gone on full alarm mode with the goblin genocide. But Coaleater also has a nonhuman form. He can shapeshift into a horse.
Normally, wouldn’t think twice about that. Shapeshifting, great. Horse is a noble creature, makes sense that someone with a serious sense of honor and nobility would take that shape. No problems, right?
But if you exclude the greenish and dark blue skin tones (since they don’t have an obvious parallel in our world), Coaleater is, as far as I understand, the only POC character.
And he makes a transformation into a beast. An animal, traditionally used as a beast of burden, that other characters proceed to sit and ride on in the rest of the novel.
That’s…really super not comfy for me to think about in light of historical slurs and stereotypes.
To see this from a mature author (with a minority heritage, no less!) and a major publisher, published only last year–frankly, I’m a little shocked.
I want to believe this is an accident. It probably is. Sloppy writing. That’s all. On the part of an author and her entire editing and development team. Sure. Stranger things have happened, right?
But it’s still…not good.
Just once, I’d like to have unproblematic goblin fiction. No caricature, no stereotype, no real-world parallel. Just funky little goblin dudes with their shiny pebbles and mushrooms and mismatched socks.
Even if I have to write it myself.
So that’s the Iron Raven.
If you made it this far, thanks for reading the whole rant. Some other book reviews are in the works (even some gushy fangirling ones! I do actually like reading books), so stay tuned!
I put off reviewing this a lot longer than I should have.
It’s complicated.
I’d like to say “This was a great book!” or “This was an okay book,” or even just go wild and shred it in another of my more venomous book rants. You know, the ones that are majority of the reason I blog under an alias.
I…can’t do any of these.
Why?
I’m so delighted you asked. Brace yourselves, friends, for–
A Realm at Stake by K.C. Julius, narrated by Chris Walker-Thomson
The Drinnglennin Chronicles, No. 2
Genre: YA/New Adult High Fantasy & Adventure
Content: mild and occasional strong language, heterosexual and homosexual lovers, rape (twice), slavery, beatings, prostitution, “lessons in seduction,” touching a minor without consent, incest, murder murder murder (depicted and somewhat graphic including the murder of an infant and a young child), “conquests” of females, nudity, underage drinking, suicide, drunkenness, innuendo, obscene hand gestures (not described), kidnapping, drug use, xenophobia–did I catch it all?
Bookmarkedone Rating:
⭐⭐
Rating: 2 out of 5.
Disclaimer: I received a free copy of this audiobook in exchange for my honest review. All opinions are my own, because few are they who may tell me what to write and live to tell the tale.
Still here?
A word of warning–this isn’t technically a review so much as it’s me hitting the highlights. The “good parts” version, plus warning you what you’re in for, (i.e., good characters, but get ready for some trauma). You can read the plot synopsis on Goodreads.
That’s not what I’m here for.
Right.
If you read the content warnings, I probably don’t need to repeat again that this is most certainly not a book for kids.
I’m going to say it again anyway.
It’s easy to get confused, with the protagonists being so young, dragons being the stuff of so many MG fantasies–look, if I got it mixed up, it’s clear it can happen. Julius was kind enough to rush in and correct me after reading my review of Portents–this was never intended for a young audience.
It’s worth repeating because I can just see some tenderhearted, crestfallen tween crying over this book, confused and absolutely crushed by a world where everything doesn’t turn out alright in the end, where rape, slavery, and war are the regular order of the day. I don’t want to see that happen.
So once an for all: adult book.
Cool.
The good news is that the second book is much more obvious about what kind of story you’re getting right out of the gate. While we started Portents with chapters and chapters of what could easily be middle-grade Chosen One fluff, there’s a scene with lovers and councils of dark wizards smack in the opening prologue.
Now that we know what we’re about?
…I kind of devoured this thing. I listened to a fourth of it in one evening without my attention flagging. If anything, I had to take little breaks to let it settle in my head and breathe because did you really have to switch POVs there after that happened?
That’s just something I do, I think. If something especially important happens in a novel, I have to get away from it for a while, mull it over, take a walk, listen to the music of characters’ lives, hopes, and dreams shattering like the most delicate glass.
(Ending scenes of The Two Towers, I’m looking at you. Tolkien knew what he did.)
Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself.
The story of A Realm at Stake is almost exactly what you’d expect after reading Portents of Chaos:
Dragonriders ride dragons,
King still needs to choose an heir from the four contenders presented in book 1,
Wizard rides pony over entire continent and leaves kids unattended to get into their own trouble because he has bigger problems at the moment even if they do set the house on fire.
There’s also a sniper assassin (but that isn’t really resolved in this book, so…I probably should not talk about it. Cue bookmarkedone refraining from cheering “yay sniper assassin for the drama!”)
ominous ominous ominous in preparation for Book 3.
Except…it’s not.
You thought you could get comfortable with six POV characters? No, no, no, no, no! You’re not starting the book with Maura or Leif or even Borne–Julius is presenting a brand-new character in a completely different country!
To be fair, this was one of my favorite choices that Julius made in A Realm at Stake. Why?
Because for an entire novel, we’ve heard nothing but demonizing propaganda about the Helgrin warriors, and Julius opens the sequel with a fluffy wholesome scene as a boy (Helgrin) waits breathlessly for his father (more Helgrin) to return from sea.
Not only does the affection they show one another this throw everything you thought you knew about the Helgrins out the window, it’s deeply humanizing. Monsters? No, not here. Just ordinary people trying to live their lives and protect their families…and occasionally raiding seacoast towns to keep the economy running.
Bold move, Julius. Bold move.
Helgrinia itself? Oh, to be sure, it has its deep and horrific social flaws as much as Drinnglennin. But with names like Ragnar and Snorri, with longships and mead and braided blond hair? With maypole dances and occasional rape?
…It’s just Viking culture.
Like I mentioned in my review of book 1, there’s pros and cons when it comes to worldbuilding like that, deriving locations from real-world places. It’s a choice, and it’s a clear choice.
And besides. Male characters with long blond braids remind me of happy days in Rohan. It’s nice to have some variety of hairstyle.
What I do love?
The relationship between Fynn and his brother.
They have every reason to hate each other, the older to ignore the younger, the younger to envy the elder, to fight jealously for their father’s attention. But they don’t. There’s a sweet brotherly affection between the two of them, wholesome, playful and sweet. Fynn has only awe for Jared, and Jared–I think he loves his little brother, as impossible as the plot makes that out to be.
They’re forever looking out for each other, throwing their arms around one another’s shoulders, stealing one another’s mead or ale, admiring one another’s strengths (You’ve grown taller! You’re a mighty man of war!).
All hail the fluff, basically. And, as it turns out, I am very much here for sibling relationship dynamic fluff.
I almost find it more wondrous and remarkable than the dragons.
More of this, Julius, if you please!
And while we’re on the topic of the good stuff…
If I’m being honest with myself, between the Maypole dance, the spirit of good fun, food and fire, song and dance–and yes, a few too many pirates itching to get drunk–the Helgrin festival (while the sun was still up and everyone was happy, mind you) felt just a little a bit like faires I’ve been to. Felt a bit like home.
And while Fynn isn’t a sweet kid in the same sense Leif is, he still loves everyone he knows. He loves his mother, his half-brother, his father, his friends, even his brother’s friends–well, okay, he doesn’t like the lord’s wife, but she’s mean, so nobody’s going to blame him for that one–he’s just a good, wholesome kid.
So even though they’re Viking types and have ridiculous moral problems in their society–I still liked them.
Julius, I liked them. I hope you’re happy.
This is also the point in reading the book that I look into the middle distance and think “You’re going to stab this poor kid’s heart out like a ripe fruit.” When a day is too perfect in the world of some writers, we readers cower under the cliffs and trees because we know, we know better.
There’s a lot that goes on in A Realm at Stake. After being introduced into Helgrin culture, Julius drops back into Morgan the Wizard’s POV…which is when I realized that there is no recap of book 1. It’s just off to the races with Fynn in fantasy Viking land, getting ready for Midsummer, learning the intrigue of another court, listening to an old man talk about that time he had a wild dream after doing mushrooms…erm…great times, right?
I think it’s great, but if you aren’t reading one book on the heels of the other the way I am, or even worse, reading the second book without the knowledge of the first–yeah, you’re not going to have a clue who any of these people are.
And then it’s back to Whit’s POV, the most irritating and arrogant focalized character…who starts reminding us how charming he is by snapping at Morgan for not serving him to his satisfaction and finding a dryad girl hot.
Don’t love Whit.
The stakes seem higher this time. Or maybe I’m just sinking deeper, falling into the story, needing to know what happens to the characters as the stakes climb higher and higher and–
New POV chapter.
Okay, I know it was structured this way in book 1, but Julius.
Julius. You’re giving me whiplash here.
I just wanted to know what happens with the magic tree.
I say this, but it’s really half a compliment at least. It means she’s improved her writing because I want to know what happens. It matters now.
So I take a deep breath, pay the compliment, say okay, let’s read about Maura. This is fine.
And then Leif is back.
(muffled sounds of bookmarkedone screaming my boy is here! as Leif bumbles around poking and fidgeting and being a literal ray of sunshine, bouncing on the cushions, eating all the food, and talking with his mouth full–thank you for that convincing munching voice, Walker-Thomson, it was perfect)
You may continue.
And of course we get both a joust and Mob-Ball this time. Really, Julius, you spoil us.
And yes, I am required to be a Renaissance faire kid here for just a minute because, well, I’ve been to jousts.
We don’t…actually care that much about the score.
It happens in a blink, and if you aren’t watching, you could miss a near-unhorsing. If it’s a five-point hit or a three-point hit–that’s for the herald to remember, not the casual fan.
But she got the rules right, and the way the crowd reacts, the shouting and the breathless silence. So I can’t complain too much.
It’s a little reminiscent of Ivanhoe. And the voices for the vendors hawking their wares, that’s perfect.
But where there’s jousting, there’s also Borne, one of my un-favorite characters from the first book, appearing just when Leif isn’t around to smack him for getting too close to Maura. Or at least distract him! Noo, Maura, don’t get lost in his eyes, he’s a total creep, please, you deserve so much better–
I digress.
If you’ve already read the book, you may have noticed that I left out a lot of stuff that happened in the second half.
I’m not going to talk about the slavery and prostitution. I’m not going to talk about the lessons in seduction or how annoyed I am by the trope of guards not stopping to wonder what a Hot Girl is doing inside the jail. The concept of a woman’s sexuality as a weapon. The rape(s).
It’s all there. It’s not my type. It’s rough enough that I probably wouldn’t have finished the book if I hadn’t promised to review it. But here we are.
There’s good and bad. I’m trying to chin up and look for the good.
If you read the book, good luck to you. All I can say is that now you know what you’re in for.
Dragons and teakettles, we’re off on another book review! Fluff your pillows and settle into the shade, because today we’re in for a story where dragons are rare but real, magic abounds, the old world order teeters on the edge of the knife, and it’s up to four kids and a wizard to save all that’s good.
Do I have your attention yet?
Presenting:
Portents of Chaos by K.C. Julius (narrated by Chris Walker-Thomson)
The Drinnglennin Chronicles, No. 1
Genre: YA High Fantasy/Adventure
Content/Trigger Warnings: infrequent mild language, archaic strong language, 1 violent death by burning, 1 named character death, some mild fantasy suspense/violence, affairs (including minors), drug use/addiction, implied domestic violence, innuendo, xenophobia (to the point of unjust internment and murder), alcohol and tobacco use, teenage marriages (including cousins), some mytho-religious content.
Bookmarkedone Rating:
⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 3 out of 5.
First off, a titanic thank-you to K.C. Julius for the review copy of her novel! I had a great time listening to this one, curled up, happily untangling yarn by the garrett window as I listened. If you’re interested in seeing more of her work, you can check out her website here. And as is required:
Disclaimer: I received a free copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. All opinions are my own, because few are they who may tell me what to write and live to tell the tale.
Okay! On with the review!
Where to start with Portents of Chaos?
At first, I thought it was a sweet, charming middle-grade read. A soft dragon book with just the right amount of danger and all the nostalgia of long summers spent reading adventure stories like this back when I was the age of the protagonists.
My first impulse was to call it Percy Jackson meets Eragon. We’ve got our dragons and dragon riders, our wise old wizard mentor figure, our sweet, good-natured protagonist who can’t seem to find his place in the world (or do well in school), and the hint of adventure on the breeze. And the “Sorry kid, your parents didn’t like each other for very long, get married or live happily ever after, but now you’re magic, so deal with it.” That’s very Percy Jackson.
But those aren’t the only influences. There’s a rich backstory to rival Terry Brooks’ Shannara, a definitely not-Elrond Elf King in a golden wood that’s strikingly like Lindolothlorien, the horse-loving Halla who would get along famously with Lady Eowyn of Rohan, the difficulty in picking a single target age range like Crown of Three, and the high number of changing POV chapters and political intrigue of Game of Thrones.
Still with me so far? Hang in there, we’re just getting started.
Just so you can keep track going forward, here’s a short rundown of each narrator that appears in Portents:
Leif, a very good boy who just wants to be the best he can be,
Leif’s grandmother (to provide more insight into Leif’s character and let you know that she’s going to be okay after the Grand Adventure starts),
Maura, a pretty country girl with a good heart who knows how to tame wild animals and stab you in the gut if need be,
Borne, Maura’s friend, the stereotypical young knight-errant from humble means,
Halla, a young lady who really should inherit her father’s estate because she’s the best one suited to rule it and can ride and fight better than her brothers,
Whit, Halla’s cousin, also nobility, a bookworm who desperately wants to be a wizard and judges everyone else as a hobby,
and finally, Morgan, the great (albeit dishonored) wizard and orchestrator of the entire adventure.
I do love a good ensemble cast. If you really ask yourself who the protagonist is, you’d be hard pressed to choose among Leif, Whit, Maura, and Halla. And it’s terrific, because if you relate to one character but not another, someone else might connect differently. It’s a great way to widen your audience and vary perspectives.
So like I said, my first thought was that this was a middle-grade read. Leif, the original POV character, has his thirteenth birthday in the early chapters of the book, which is pretty much the sweet spot for MG leads. But Maura is fourteen, if my memory doesn’t fail me, with Halla and Whit around the same age. And more importantly, there’s a lot of more mature content that had me asking “You did what in a middle-grade book?”
We’ll get to that later.
I should clarify that while I said Shannara backstory-levels, that’s not quite fair. Leif is so curious, every time when Morgan is deep in the monologue and you expect it to become a bone-dry history lesson, Leif interrupts with yet another question, making the whole thing livelier and a lot more amusing.
I could have read an entire novel just from Leif’s POV. Frankly, I feel cheated that we didn’t get to spend more time with him arriving in Mithralyn, watching him face such deeply personal struggles that Julius set up in his opening chapters. I wanted to see him meet the Elven king. I wanted to see this little man decide if he was going to feel his lack of worth or chin up and believe in himself the way he believes in everyone else.
But no. As soon as the mist on the forest clears, we’re in Maura’s POV, which is equally interesting, but, well, she hasn’t got Leif’s innocent good-heartedness.
And I’ll admit, I have a soft spot for wizards who are literally keeping the world together and get zilch respect. Oh yeah, that’s the disgraced old guy. He travels around the country. Used to be something great, but whatever. Don’t pay him any attention.
(Wizard keeps the country from falling into civil war, has a network of loyal spies, knows almost everyone personally, knows the roads of the empire like the lines and veins on the back of his aging hand, is the only one to use good logic)
It’s a trope. It’s a trope I’m here for.
What I’m not here for is the “enchantment of charm.” Or what I usually call the “Hot Elf Queen Trope.”
Turns out I’m not a fan when the shoe is on the other foot. It doesn’t make a difference to me if it’s an Elf king instead of a queen or a mortal who does the “enchanting.” I don’t like the idea that “they were so charming I couldn’t help myself.” That the allure of someone’s physical appearance robs you of your reason and self-control so it isn’t a matter of choice–
I usually don’t get this grumpy, but if you can’t figure out why this trope is outdated bogus that breeds creeps, if you’re just cool with that idea, go read someone else’s blog. This is not okay.
It starts out subtly enough. I’ll leave out names to avoid spoiling, but it’s essentially one character trying to convince another that his parents did have feelings for each other, were happy in each other’s company…before they split up and never saw each other again.
But then it pops up later, in Mithralyn, it gets repeated by Leif, worrying that a friend has no defenses before the natural charm of the Elves and will be completely taken advantage of. Right, so even our main character is buying into this idea that someone can be so magically hot that it’s game over and the other character has no control over what happens next.
I’m so infuriated I actually can’t think of anything else to say about this. No. Just no. Don’t do this. Don’t write this. Don’t read this. And certainly don’t believe this.
Then there’s Borne.
I hate Borne.
Not at first, of course, when he sweeps in heroically and flirts with Maura the way any number of pretty boys in MG and YA books do. But what do you call the opposite of someone growing on you?
I was a little surprised when he began describing all the other girls he’d flirted with.
And then when it became abundantly clear that he was doing a lot more than flirting. And was trying to shake a girl who was interested in being more than a passing fancy.
Yeah, he’s a womanizing jerk. Someone called him a man of integrity later in the book and I was just like “NO no nope no no he’s not. There are names for boys like him where I come from. Maura needs to run before Borne takes and tires of her too, because as poetic as he is, we’ve got no proof he won’t discard her like all his other ‘conquests.’”
And how about the fact that Borne, who I don’t believe is older than sixteen, has learned most of his tricks from an association with a widowed woman…some time before the novel even starts.
Even if we try to hope for the best and say maybe it was a really young widow (two other characters were getting betrothed in their early teens) and maybe it was only a year before the novel takes place, that’s still probably an awkward relationship between an older woman and a minor.
…yeah, going to just back slowly away from that one.
Frankly, I’m a little surprised (and disappointed) the “alluring Fay” trope and Borne’s character type popped up
In a book not intended for adults
In a book written in the last twenty years
In a book written by a woman (sorry, but “men writing women badly” especially in sci-fi has had its repercussions on my opinions)
This is the modern era. We shouldn’t be repeating such archaic nonsense. We have power over what we choose to do, and boys who romance and then dump unassuming girls aren’t good people. We shouldn’t pretend otherwise.
End of story.
So…yeah. By this point, I was starting to suspect this was really intended for YA. You don’t see this sort of thing for middle-grade audiences very often.
Borne isn’t the only…problematic figure in the novel. There’s also Halla’s best friend of the å Livåri…who married at thirteen and has no problem boldly hinting about her experiences.
I get it, it’s a medievalesque fantasy, and in some cultures (particularly the nobility of Europe), marrying that young was the norm. It doesn’t bother me as much as other things. But I mention it because I’ve had at least one friend who doesn’t read as many old historical-style novels as I do and was utterly scandalized by the idea. So if that type of thing bothers you, be prepared.
And the fact that two first cousins got engaged who might have actually been genetic half-siblings…
Me, I’m wondering if I should be more concerned that the å Livåri, so clearly based on the Romani, are remarked on for loose living and flirtatious dances. It’s something probably no one else would notice, paying more attention to the way Julius condemns the xenophobia in her characters and slowly reveals the humanity in every group of people, even the drug-addicted Lurkers–but it doesn’t sit well with me.
There’s a special place in my heart for all wandering peoples. Factual or fictional. Sometimes when I’m working at Renaissance festivals as my minstrel-y self, I feel a kinship to them, something between fellowship and envy.
And after this many years of performing and reading, I’ve learned that there are–certain associations people make.
It’s been hundreds of years, but some people still look down on wanderers, on performers, on people who are different. And part of that is depicting them as exotic and sensual.
A base creature or an object. Entertainment, beggars, not unique people. It’s the curse of the “us-versus-them” psychology, of having someone outside the social group, but that’s no excuse for it. Maybe I’m reading into it because I’m more sensitive to this type of slight, but it makes me uncomfortable, Julius’ depiction of the å Livåri. I hope she doesn’t unthinkingly repeat others’ mistakes. I’d so much rather if she’d left that part about the sensuality out so there’s no chance it can be misread. Maybe she’s setting it up cleverly, the way she did with the Lurkers, and I’ve only got half the puzzle in front of me.
I hope.
I say that, but the å Livåri were also among my favorites. If I’d been Halla, the first moment things started going south, Julius would have been forced to write “And she ran away with the å Livåri and lived happily ever after performing wicked good theatre and dancing with knives and now I have to go find a new fourth protagonist because that’s the end of that.”
While I’m on a roll, I might as well tackle the last sticking point for me in terms of content. Drumroll please, for the polytheistic mythology that is still obviously derived from Catholicism!
(cue maniacal bookmarkedone laughter and oh, why not, throw in a crash of thunder)
Clearest example? The Sin Eater.
I did a quick Google to make sure I was right about this, and while it’s not exclusively associated with church rituals, I’m not wrong in remembering it as a folklore item linked to religious practices, particularly Welsh Christianity.
In case you’re not familiar with it, this is an archaic ritual in which an outcast of the community would come and eat a meal at the funeral of a deceased person, symbolically “eating their sins” and ensuring them peace in the afterlife. Sort of like a human scapegoat.
You don’t read about that a lot in fantasy fiction. Why? Because it’s not prescribed anywhere in the Bible, not part of modern church practices, and it’s one of those things we just don’t talk about anymore because frankly, it’s a little bizarre.
But if you want more examples of borrowing in Julius’ mythology, there’s the fact that they still have what in a historical castle would be a chapel, complete with icons of gods and goddesses where the Catholic saints would be. And Whit’s mother spends most of her time in repentant prayer while his father is recalled as eating only plain food and wearing a coarse shirt close to his skin–two frequently quoted features of some types of medieval monastic life.
It’s just obscure traditions from Catholicism repainted with a veneer of polytheism.
One has to eventually ask the painful question: would it be uncomfortable for Catholic readers to discover a book with their faith mashed into a hybrid religion?
Or how about the fact that just when the full scope of the iconic gods and goddesses are explained, Whit proclaims himself an atheist, only interested in knowledge? As if religion always has to be restraining, something that belongs to one’s stuffy, misunderstanding parents and never to one’s self?
Guys, why do magical adventures and any type of religious faith have to be opposed? And I’m not talking about the cult-y stuff. Where are my D&D Paladin types at?
I say all this picky stuff, but the truth is that I couldn’t do that if Julius hadn’t so meticulously researched her setting. She didn’t just say here’s a dragon, here’s a castle, plop them into the page and away have fun. She found out how they really lived, the order of nobility in small earldoms and kingdoms, the social structures, the culture, the food, the language, the customs–and then she added her own magic system and unique cultural flair, not without its own share of careful thought.
Example?
“It wasn’t a practice for men of Dorf to embrace, unless they scored a point during Mob-Ball.”
I think this is from the early Maura chapters…I just scribbled it down because I was busy listening…
This says so much in just a single quote.
Men aren’t touchy-feely in Dorf
There’s probably somewhere in this world where it is the common practice for men to embrace as a friendly greeting
What is Mob-Ball? Haven’t got a clue! But it’s a game that belongs to the unique culture.
See what I mean? She’s done some good writing in here. Even creating the unique characteristics and voice required to effectively pull off a book with seven different POVs takes a lot of effort and skill.
Her writing style is nice, too. She has moments of description, as all writers do, but they didn’t seem to drag on too long. If anything, I would have liked a little more description of the characters early on. I’m still not sure what Maura’s pets look like, so I’m imagining some cross of a long-haired rabbit and a fox–but that’s probably my error, tearing through it too fast to catch all the details.
It’s really hard to dislike a book with the phrase “With the prospect of pudding to come.”
And can we take a minute to appreciate the narration?
Not only does Chris Walker-Thomson have a steady voice with a very pleasant British accent, he goes all in for his reading. I’m not just talking about changing the pitch of his voice so the different characters are easier to tell apart. He changes his accent, giving some of the characters a little lilt and Maura’s Lurker a Scottish accent so thick it was almost hard to understand him.
Not that I would have changed it for anything, of course.
It’s the type of narration where it sounds like the reader really enjoys the book, like he believes in the story and wants to share it with others. It’s in the little details, the way he recorded himself twice so when two characters speak at the same time, they really do, or singing when one of the characters is performing a song.
And of course, his voice for Morgan the wizard.
As soon as I heard it I perked up. It’s Gandalf, Ian McKellen’s Gandalf, slightly gruff, with the same sonority and gentle, incredibly patient care in the tone for all he comes in contact with. It’s so similar that I can’t quite believe it isn’t intentional.
I might gripe here and there about the book, but I have no complaints about the narration. Not one.
What do I think of Portents of Chaos?
Hard to say. I don’t really think it’s one novel.
Let me explain.
I settled into the Leif sections expecting him to be the only protagonist. But if you think of it that way, look at each section carefully, there’s a lot of foreshadowing in each main character section that’s never answered. What is the deal with the “meat pie” that Leif’s granny hides in the fireplace ashes? Why does Maura’s Lurker keep popping up? What’s the deal with the crows hanging around Whit? Surely after introducing Halla’s å Livåri friends they’re going to have a larger role, right? And why do we need to know about Borne Braxton at all (really now)?
It’s more like five different novels stitched together, but then cut down to the length of the novel. It’s the sort of story where you have to read the next book if you want to get any sort of satisfaction about what happens in “the end.”
For that reason, the actual ending floored me. Epilogue? That couldn’t be right! I still had more book left, didn’t I? I felt like I’d only read the beginning and maybe the middle of something, like there was so much more left to come.
So if you like that sort of thing, Portents of Chaos is waiting! Like I said, it’s got a good flow and style that set it apart from a lot of other dragon books. And if it’s not your thing…well, thank you for getting this far and reading the entirety of this ginormous review. I may have gotten carried away.
Spoilers–I’m not a big Frank Herbert fan. So I sort of grumbled a little, settling into this one.
And the story of a boy living in an abusive household? That’s–delicate.
“The Daddy Box” is the story of an ordinary kid discovering an alien box, but what’s inside is far more complex than most people would dream.
And after reading the story, I’m still not 100% clear on why it’s called a Daddy Box in the first place?
To understand what happened to Henry Alexander when his son, Billy, came home with the ferosslk, you’re going to be asked to make several mind-stretching mental adjustments. These mental gymnastics are certain to leave your mind permanently changed.
You’ve been warned.
I can’t lie. It’s a pretty great opening.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 5439-5442). Galaxy Press, Inc.
Why do we call it a “Daddy Box” when “ferosslk” is so much cooler and more fitting?
Whatever.
To be fair, it has its brilliant moments. It has its way of drawing you in, wondering what this thing is, this box that looks like it could be made of jade. The protagonist has the Harry Potter/Percy Jackson vibe of a boy who just needs a good break for a change, so you start rooting for him and hating the villain without much difficulty. And it (sort of) has a happy ending, so–?
It feels like part of something bigger, some bigger world, bigger story, but at the same time, belongs only to itself. That’s all there is. But inside your mind, the story of that box is going to keep unfolding.
Not half bad. Not quite my personal cup of tea, but not bad.
Interlude: “Teamwork: Getting the Best out of Two Writers” by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
It’s a nonfiction essay with some sound advice on writing with others. Cool? Cool. I learned my lesson in Part I. Back to the brand-new stories before I make another ridiculously long post.
Like skipping this will really stop me.
(maniacal laughter)
“The Island on the Lake” by John Coming
TW: 1 instance strong language, themes of suicide, the cost of knowing the future
⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 3 out of 5.
I came away from this one feeling like I missed some greater meaning that despite my closest reading, swept straight over my head and went whistling through the branches of the pine trees.
Or maybe it’s just what it is and I’m overly suspicious. Hard to say.
“The Island on the Lake” reads like a fairytale, fitting the old story structure that’s so familiar it’s like a comfortable worn sweater with a hole in the left elbow–go three times to your health, but a fourth to your peril, beware all types of magic for there’s always a cost, behold the forces of the world personified, ageless and knowing but lacking the innocent happy freedoms of mortal man–but it kept nagging me, why? What’s really going on here? What am I missing?
There’s some beautiful description in this one. So much that sometimes I was thinking how did you get away with this someone would have yelled at me to stop talking about the trees hours ago?
But I think it’s the little notes, the colors, that make this story beautiful.
…the days stretched on like taffy.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Location 5907). Galaxy Press, Inc.
Oranges like fading fire, and reds like dark apples.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Location 6203). Galaxy Press, Inc.
See what I mean? Gorgeous.
But it probably also didn’t help my opinion of the piece that I don’t like stories that end where you can’t feel satisfied, where you keep wondering for days with a tight feeling in your gut, hoping everyone is going to be okay.
Yeah…this is one of those.
The illustration is beautiful. I’ve–known a lot of forests in my life, and that one, that one felt…right. I’ve never been to one quite like that, but in a strange way it reminds me of the ones I know. The vines, the electric splashes of purple, the huge elephant ear leaves, the trees so much taller than the minuscule people, the lake that doesn’t throw back any clear reflection–it’s just beautiful. I probably missed the mark on this story, because I know given the chance, I’d most likely row out to that island just to meet those trees.
“The Phantom Carnival” by M. Elizabeth Ticknor
TW: some scary imagery, violent/thematic content, kidnapping, forced memory loss.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 5 out of 5.
“What makes you so sure you could?”
“Because I’m me.” Danny’s face splits in an ear-to-ear grin…
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 6524-6526). Galaxy Press, Inc.
So I wasn’t “in love” with the stories immediately prior. It happens. I settled in to this one on a rainy afternoon, tired, not really paying attention–
And promptly was grabbed, snatched, dragged, and otherwise forcefully brought into this world of story until my eyes were bugging out a little and I was flipping pages, thinking am I really reading this oh this is gorgeous what on earth oh oh YES and other (clears throat) incoherent little fangirl thoughts.
I mean…just taking a glance at my notebook scribblings…
…yeah, I’ve got nothing to say for myself.
No lie. This was amazing.
I was so excited I got on Twitter and yelled at everyone about it, spoiling my review a little…anyway.
Brace yourself for a Depression-era, rail-riding, trouser-wearing, monster-stabbing protagonist named Alice in the historical fiction/fantasy/horror/carnival short story you had no idea you needed.
You need this. You do.
It reminds me so much of stories I devoured during endless summers as a kid, watching other girls take on the world, no matter how impossible the challenge seemed. It’s spunky and voicey and unique and so well-researched on both fantastic and historical levels (screams)–I never considered a Depression-era fantasy, but now it makes so much sense I’m envious of Ticknor’s brilliance. Of course there was a secret magic world in the ’30s. Of course there was a creepy carnival and Fay kids riding the rails. Oh, naturally.
I want to go to that carnival. I know, I know, I know. But just to visit. It’s so weird and wonderful there. Just sneak in. Nobody would notice a thing.
And can we talk about the platonic friendships? I am always here for platonic friendships.
I only trusted him with my secret because he trusted me with his.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 6689-6690). Galaxy Press, Inc.
This isn’t even a review anymore. It’s just me gushing over this thing.
It’s good. Read it. Now.
“The Last Dying Season” by Brittany Rainsdon
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 4.5 out of 5.
TW: xenaphobia, genocide, something like possession/mind control, suspense and danger, forced memory loss
So the first thing I thought about this one was “Fuzzy socks and Narnia…this bio seems familiar…Brittany, Brittany–didn’t we read something by her before? Wasn’t she the one,” (cue frantic rustling through my ARC copy of Vol. 37 until I find “Half-Breed,” the gorgeous Dryad story from last year and much internal screaming that Rainsdon is back yes yes yes yes yes!).
Yeah. I was excited. But also–there was some trepidation. What if she couldn’t live up to her last story? What if this wasn’t as good?
No sense in holding my breath. I turned the page.
Flowers and vines were their technological hardware, storing entire libraries of data in a single seed, leaf, or flower’s DNA.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 6965-6966). Galaxy Press, Inc.
Guys. She did it. It’s good.
If her first story was urban fantasy, then this one is standard colonialist sci-fi. You know the stuff. Earth died, so humanity moved to another planet and trashed it in 20 seconds flat. You’ve read that plot before, if you’ve read any of the old stuff.
But here’s the thing. It’s Rainsdon.
…without conscience, courage becomes cruelty.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Location 7385). Galaxy Press, Inc.
(muffled sounds of bookmarkedone screaming it’s Rainsdon! from the rooftop and my neighbors mowing their lawns in fear)
So please. Allow me to be the first to introduce you to Edrei Muller, skilled geneticist and botanist on the planet Kalefe, and more importantly, a mother, in a world on the brink of collapse.
Like, you know I’ll fight for my found family dynamics, my platonic friendships, but a mother/daughter relationship? It changes the entire story. Rainsdon writes it with such tenderness, such free admission of flaws, of struggles, of love–
ARGH.
Read. Now. Go.
Interlude: “The Third Artist” by Diane Dillon
Okay, I know I said I’d skip the essays this time, but you should know that this one is a good read. I’m not a member of the visual arts community, and yet I found myself carried away by the way Dillon writes. For one reason because not only is it advice,
…it’s also a love story.
It’s the story of two artists who fell in love with each other and each other’s work and somehow figured out a way to embrace their creative passions together without scratching each other’s eyes out.
Leo and I were born in 1933, eleven days apart, 3,000 miles apart on opposite coasts, and from different worlds.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 7541-7542). Galaxy Press, Inc.
Frankly, it’s riveting. Nothing stops them. Their successful career. How many other creatives can say they managed that?
“A Word of Power” by David Farland
⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 2.5 out of 5.
So this is a special one because it’s Farland’s last contribution to WOTF before passing away.
Yeah.
I think it would satisfy him to know that he managed to finish editing the last anthology with his name associated with it, that he had the honor of writing the story to go with the cover illustration.
It’s not every day you get a story with mammoths and robots. I mean, have you looked at the cover art?
An it’s flash fiction! Which if you don’t write SF/F is really, really hard. This genre takes a lot of explaining, so if you just throw someone in the deep end for a few thousand words, usually the best you get is gibberish and a headache.
For what it’s worth, Farland pulls it off. And he makes his characters leap off the page from the start.
But…it’s flash. You don’t get a complete ending tied up with a bow in flash. You get the opening, the beginning, something being brought to life, the first time a bird springs from the nest and beats its wings against the sky, and then–
The end. That’s all there is.
There’s just too much we don’t know. It’s scary.
But maybe that’s the point. Anytime we do anything, take any risk, it can feel like standing on the edge of the cliff. Maybe Farland’s story is there to remind us what it feels like to hope, to take the leap, to believe that there’s something good out there if we just reach for it.
And maybe he just left it open at the end so we could draw our own conclusions and fill in the blanks more eloquently and personally than he could.
Some good writing techniques really include “just be lazy.” It’s ridiculous that it works.
“The Greater Good” by Em Dupre
⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 2.5 out of 5.
TW: affairs, abusive relationships, murder, flippant remarks about sexuality, some violently graphic imagery, suspense, forced memory loss
Presenting an intergalactic murder mystery with a sci-fi confessional and an ageless man who really just wants to have a nice dinner in peace–
I feel like I did that wrong.
I’m not wrong, though.
How do you keep peace between a team of colonists alone in space for years when they’re going to feel cooped up and start stepping on each other’s toes, ruining their marriages, and killing each other since they have all the maturity of middle-aged teenagers?
Memory erasure. Only logical option. Clearly.
And so we get Counselor Adrian Parrish, who remembers everything and has the energy of an exhausted teacher on a school trip.
Poor man.
It’s a little difficult to stomach some points, since Adrian knows all the gruesome gossip about literally every character in the story, and in such a close POV, we the readers get to hear every last morsel of it–
Right. Anybody else feeling sympathy for Adrian’s grey hairs?
But aside from that…it’s really quite fascinating. It’s all so delicate when you look at it, so close to falling apart socially, and then there’s the murder mystery…
Just know what you’re in for. And good luck.
“For the Federation” by J. A. Becker
⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 4 out of 5.
TW: mild language, body horror, concubinage, genetic breeding, sterilization, violence (high body count), xenophobia, interplanetary colonization
YES IT’S TIME FOR THIS ONE!
All caps. Not professional. Right. Sorry.
Okay, so it’s pretty much a smack-in-the-face opening. And then with Craig and Beth start fighting–I wasn’t sure this was going to really suit me.
I was so happily wrong.
Presenting:
Beth, the genetically-modified assassin thug who could probably have an anvil dropped on her leg and wouldn’t bat an eye,
Craig, her misguided but caring spouse and the politician she’s charged with protecting,
and Sam, the son Beth would do anything for.
I am a gun, and he’s just pointed and pulled the trigger.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 8595-8596). Galaxy Press, Inc..
In the action scenes, Beth is a machine. She’s incredible. I–yes. We salute the lady tank. And in the more tender, emotional moments? She’s there.
It’s not smooth sailing. It’s messy and chaotic and painful, and they’ve got their own share of hurt and betrayal and back stabbing and I love it.
It is so hard to see an enemy an inch from my face and I can’t kill it. It breaks me.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 8535-8536). Galaxy Press, Inc.
(muffled bookmarkedone screaming)
If last year was the Year of the Granny, I’m voting this one as Good Moms. And this is another trend that I am more than ready to see become a trope because it’s going to be a long time before I get tired of complex, conflicted, beautiful characters like this.
My complaint?
The ending.
I really would like just a little hint more. I just–need to know after all that, after everything they went through, that everybody is going to be okay.
I always do complain about the endings, don’t I?
“Psychic Poker” by Lazarus Black
⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 2.5 out of 5.
TW: strong language, some unfavorable/callous comments toward religious faith
So time for something a lot less serious than the legal standing of time travel or watching an assassin try her hardest to be a good mom.
Let’s see what happens when clairvoyants try to play cards against each other!
Yeah, there’s no more serious message here. It gets scary for the characters, but that’s it, that’s the plot.
To be fair, it’s pretty voicey, and it’s interesting to see how Black’s particular version of psychic powers work–what do you see? What do you miss?
And the protagonist, while being the Hawaiian-shirt wearing callous and selfish type, isn’t without his own merit.
Can’t hurt my kiddo if I’m just stupid lazy. I hope.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Location 8966). Galaxy Press, Inc.
The psychics are all different too, all with their own stories and backgrounds–which, of course, since the protagonist is psychic, the reader gets to know in rich detail.
Really, I should probably appreciate the clever bits of writing more than I do.
So why don’t I?
Well, besides Mr. Young getting under my skin a little, there’s a twist.
Frankly, I think I’m irritated by the twist because it feels like cheating and I really should have seen it coming.
You can be too clever, sometimes.
And that’s the end!
What did I think? Well, there were a lot of stories I loved this time. A few I didn’t, but that’s how anthologies go. I’m still delighted I got to be part of the advanced reader team and I hope I have the chance again next year.
My rating?
Bookmarkedone Rating:
⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 4 out of 5.
Thanks for reading, and again a huge thank-you to GalaxyPress for making this possible and for all the lovely writers who put so much effort into these stories. It’s quite easy for me to read a story and snub my nose at it, but it takes much more time to make something good.
It’s finally here! A huge thank-you to the lovely folks at GalaxyPress and Writers of the Future for including me in the advanced reader group for the third year running.
I might be a little excited about this. But since I’ve gushed over how much I love the WOTF anthology and contest plenty enough before, let’s plunge right into the review.
Like previous years, I’ll be doing “mini-reviews” of each short story in the anthology, and splitting the review into two posts so it isn’t so ridiculously long that not even the most desperate reader has the stamina to get through it. And finally:
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. All opinions, grumblings, rants, and fangirl gushing are my own.
Let’s go!
L. Ron Hubbard presents Writers of the Future Vol. 38 (edited by David Farland)
Genre: Adult science fiction, fantasy, and horror (anthology)
Bookmarkedone rating: (included in Part II)
“Agatha’s Monster” by Azure Arther
⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 3 out of 5.
TW: parent hitting a child, some suspense/drama, trauma over a loved one’s violent death, which is pretty gory
I’ve sort of been rooting for all the monsters since reading Frankenstein…and maybe before that. So as soon as Arther’s yellow-eyed, clawed, cat-eating cuddly little Martin popped onto the page, I settled in.
There’s a lot to keep track of in this one–Agatha herself, all the members of her family, the weird hybrid magical world that includes gigantic monsters and knife fighting, medieval-style tunics and leggings, but also something like TV broadcasts, your standard public school, and travel by car. It can be a little confusing if you’re not paying attention. But on the other hand, it’s definitely unique.
And Arther does a really good job of hinting at her backstory without teasing the reader, keeping you guessing until the climax when everything suddenly falls into place. It’s a potent mixture of coming-of-age, learning who you want to be and where you belong, and learning to deal with grief in your own way.
I guess my only hesitation with this one is that I don’t understand Agatha’s family dynamic. I could be reading into this, but…I don’t like her mom.
There. I said it. Maybe it’s fine, but when Agatha was fighting back against her internal emotional struggle and her mom just slapped her–I shut down. I started reinterpreting everything else (why was Agatha the one doing all the breakfast prep by herself? What’s the relationship really like here?), wondering if this was actually as unhealthy as I thought it was.
That’s not really addressed in the story. She gets her happy ending, and everything goes on. As if the family dynamic is fluff, instead of a bunch of sharp-edged, grieving characters lashing out at each other.
So…yeah. Monster hunting trauma? Great! POC representation? Terrific! Unhealthy family dynamic? Um, no. Not up for that here, sorry.
“The Magical Book of Accidental Destruction: A Book Wizard’s Guide” by Z. T. Bright
⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 4 out of 5.
TW: subtle commentary on gender/gender roles/sexuality, some rude humor, alcohol use
There’s so much to love about this story. The notes of Arabic-inspired fantasy. The found family dynamic. The speculative element on the nature of internet algorithms dropped into not a sci-fi like you would expect, but a high fantasy. The fact that the protagonist is a book wizard!
I know I should be focusing on the magical elements, but frankly, I’m obsessed with how the characters interact, how sharp-edged and broken they all are in their own different ways, sometimes hurting one another, and sometimes being everything they need.
It’s really nice to have a found family/sibling dynamic once in a while instead of the Hollywood standard romance. And I think this is the kind of tension/resolution that I was hoping for in “Agatha’s Monster.” The messy, painful process of learning when to hang on and when to let go. We know nobody’s perfect, but that doesn’t mean you ignore the imperfections. It doesn’t mean that you don’t try every day to learn, to be better, to love in return.
I don’t want to spoil the story, so I’ll just leave a couple of my favorite quotes to give you an idea of what you’re in for:
I spent the night crying and breaking things and drinking strong beverages. Not necessarily in that order.
I have a note scribbled in my Kindle copy here that just says “mood.”
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Location 1303). Galaxy Press, Inc.
Though I wasn’t sure I was wrong, I had an apology to make.
Can we say “character development?”
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 1305-1306). Galaxy Press, Inc.
And of course I’d be totally remiss if I didn’t talk about Ari Zaritsky’s accompanying illustration. In case you aren’t familiar with the WOTF anthology, every story is paired with a full-color image created by one of the winning illustrators from the competition. And Zaritsky’s is pretty gorgeous.
It’s not just the colors, the rich dark browns against the golden desert sand and blue sky. It’s the way he draws BW, the protagonist, that really caught my attention.
We don’t get a lot of description of her in the story. Just that she has her head shaved and wears a monk’s robe. She’s tough, or tries to be, but Zaritsky’s version of her–
She’s beautiful. Her eyes are an arresting blue, like the desert sky behind her, full lips a dark burgundy shade that hints at lipstick. She has an eyebrow piercing and earrings and a tattoo on her face. The expressions of the other two characters are easy to read, but hers–it’s as if she’s waiting for you to make some choice before she decides if she’s going to be derisive or angry or simply sad. She’s beautiful and feminine and mysterious. Zaritsky painted this tough character so tenderly, as if he really knows her, as if he knows how hard she fights to be strong.
It’s time to move on before I spend the whole post talking about this story.
“The Squid is My Brother” by Mike Jack Stoumbos
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 5 out of 5.
TW: tentacles, symbiotes, innuendo
Okay, I’m just going to say it. I loved, loved, loved this story.
“The Squid is My Brother” is the story of an ordinary girl trying to fit into a new school–except she’s a “third-generation Neptune,” a foreign exchange student from space with a tentacled symbiote attached to her back. But it’s not a Venom type symbiote. Michaela calls it her “Brother,” and it’s just that–a friend so close that it’s part of her, a protector and confidant.
It’s so sweet and so weird. It’s perfect.
And the writing style! It’s this gorgeous combination of blank, blunt prose like you’d find in a telegram message and Michaela’s young, sometimes stinging voice as she fights back against a hostile new environment.
Examples?
Had to apologize again for telling them, “Concussion builds character.”
That’s my girl.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Location 1457). Galaxy Press, Inc.
And no, as I try to explain to caretakers, can’t see through my spine; spine doesn’t have eyes.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 1488-1489). Galaxy Press, Inc.
I worry I will fail lunch…there is no teacher for lunch…The other students sit in groups, and I can’t tell the rules for who sits where and why.
Again, mood.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 1577-1579). Galaxy Press, Inc.
This is the school story to end all school stories. Stoumbos has done it, everyone else go home!
Why? Because the bullying isn’t “why are they picking on our awesome middle grade hero everyone loves” but “she’s different, and different is scary.” It’s something plausible and painful, something real, instead of a plot device.
And the illustration of Michaela quietly drawing while her Brother’s pink tentacles frame her curly black hair? I think I love it just as much as the illustration of BW from the previous story.
It’s beautiful. I could read a whole novel of this. Scratch that, I’d devour a novel of this. Stoumbos, if you’re reading, can I have a novel, please?
It balances the overwhelmingly ordinary with the extremely weird so well. It’s creepy and sweet and it’s about being brave when you’re scared, about being who you are and holding your head up until everyone else accepts you.
It’s good, okay? It’s good.
“Gallows” by Desmond Astaire
⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 3.5 out of 5.
TW: mild language, infrequent strong language, alcohol use, themes of loss and trauma
On to the next!
My customers will call me Gallows, and I am a discerning bartender. Everyone’s got a story to hide, and I enjoy stealing it out of them.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 1829-1830). Galaxy Press, Inc.
If you like time travel and intrigue, “Gallows” might be just the thing. It ponders the classic questions of time travel–can we change the past? Is the future predetermined–while our protagonist slowly goes from a respectable corporate compliance officer contentedly living a boring life to a more and more murdery headhunter.
It’s kind of great.
Especially since Gallows is the “I don’t think I can die,” reckless type and his partner is in the background doing a facepalm.
I honestly wish Burkey had gotten more time in the story. Not only is it cool that his partner in crime is a woman and there’s a simple friendship instead of an awkward romance, Burkey is just awesome. She’s cool in the controlled, restrained way of side characters that make you back up a step because you know they could be really scary.
They’re a great combo.
Every once in a while, the little voice in my head tells me something is a critically dangerous idea. But I’ve come to learn that I am smarter than that voice, and I ignore it.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 2126-2128). Galaxy Press, Inc.
And more than that, the story pokes at the political side of things. What happens when governments get involved with time travel? What kind of power does that have in a military/reconnaissance context? Or as Astaire puts it, what does it mean “to address tomorrow’s threat before it arrives?”
Interlude: “Boos and Taboos” by L. Ron Hubbard
Since this is a previously published essay on the writing craft, I’m going to skip the review and leave you with a few quotes. Even cutting this post in half, I’m getting carried away and I need more room to gab about fiction!
Writers were originally minstrels, of course, and the minstrels used to wander about sleeping in haystacks and begging their wine, getting paid only in gifts. We have become elevated to respectability as far as the world is concerned, but we still live that cup-to-lip existence of our long-dead brethren, and our lives, whether we strummed a lyre or a typewriter, are pretty identical.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 2322-2325). Galaxy Press, Inc.
(awkwardly shuffles out of frame with violin). Well, some of us have “become elevated.” I still get called a bard on a regular basis. And I like it.
Dear me, can’t we have some really interesting females in pulp?
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Location 2359). Galaxy Press, Inc.
(sounds of bookmarkedone screaming and cheering for revolution)
Okay, you get the idea. Moving on.
“The Professor Was a Thief” by L. Ron Hubbard
⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 3 out of 5.
TW: mild language, alcohol and tobacco use
So I might be a little harder on this one because the other Hubbard stories I’ve read (“Borrowed Glory,” Vol. 36, “The Dangerous Dimension,” Vol. 37) were out-of-this-world gorgeous. “The Professor Was a Thief” was good, but…not that good. At least not for me.
To be fair, it’s charming. It’s the story of Pop, an aging newspaperman about to be replaced and forced to retire, just when the biggest story of his life falls into his lap. It’s simple and straightforward and good-hearted, with the kind of feel-good ending that wouldn’t be out of place in a lot of musicals. But along the way, Hubbard uses his gift for escalating the conflict, just a little at a time, spinning out the yarn so you keep turning the pages. You can’t help but root for Pop, even if you have a pretty good hunch about how things are going to go. Sometimes you just need a story where the good guys win, especially after a grim tale like “Gallows.”
“Lilt of a Lark” by Michael Panter
⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 3.5 out of 5.
TW: mind control, references to a “witch,” hangings, some violence, infrequent strong language, innuendo
“Are you a legend, bird boy?”
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 3650-3651). Galaxy Press, Inc.
So anybody who’s been reading this blog for very long and knows about my musician background can guess how eager I was to read this one from the moment Malkoriahmavrovianmolossus the Lark rode into view, strumming his cannotina.
I love the little poetic turns in the prose, the expressions, the alliteration, the rhythm and music of it all. I know that’s a personal weakness, but seriously, how can anyone not appreciate a good song verse tossed into a short story?
Narrow wynds and buildings huddling tight as whispering thieves….kissed by snowdrifts
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 3735-3736). Galaxy Press, Inc.
“Not all lies are like music, remember.”
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 3905-3906). Galaxy Press, Inc.
Delectable, right?
And then I turned the page to the illustration and realized my mistake.
It’s a picture of Malk in his motley, strumming his three-stringed instrument.
It’s basically a glorified ukulele. I’ve been tricked into rooting for ukulele-man.
I don’t know if that translates to non-orchestral-musician people, but that’s–that’s a pretty good prank to play on me. There’s a totally different vibe for ukulele players and orchestral musicians in terms of our disciplines (and sometimes personality?). Like comparing Malk to Kvothe the Bloodless, really. A Midsummer Night’s Dream to Macbeth. And as I kept reading, it became increasingly clear how much of a loveable idiot Malk really is. There are times that the association with a stereotypical D&D bard who rolled the dice very poorly was impossible to ignore.
And then there’s the idea that a monarch who has just forcibly taken control of a kingdom wouldn’t even, I don’t know, carry a short knife for personal protection? Are we serious? You were so clever until now!
Anyway.
It’s still well-written for all that, the little details fitting together. The sort of story you probably need to read twice to feel satisfied that you’ve caught all the twists and turns. And even if Malk is a bit of an idiot, when he gets down to the actual enchanting with music–well, I can’t complain. It’s just the way I’d have it.
Even if it would have been nice to meet some of the other mythic bards in this world. Who knows. Maybe Panter will write about a Raven next.
“The Mystical Farrago” by N. V. Haskell
⭐⭐
Rating: 2 out of 5.
TW: partial nudity, enslavement, freak shows, abuse, implied rape, discussion of gender roles/identity, sexism, some gory details
This one…was not my favorite. I wanted to like it, at the beginning. Haskell’s a Renaissance faire kid like me and she reads Anne McCaffrey. It opens with a spooky circus. The protagonist stands in a cyclone of raven feathers in the illustration, coat and lace-up boots undeniably steampunky. Surely this would be a perfect fit for me, right?
Afraid not.
The story centers around the “crysallix,” a very tall half-bird woman. Cool, right? Well, apparently she’s a very tall half-bird woman that no man can come within six yards of without feeling the apparently overwhelming and uncontrollable desire to possess her due to the scent that an unmarried Farrago naturally exudes.
No.
I have so many problems with this I don’t even know where to start. We’re expected to believe that there’s a race of creatures that mankind has no choice but to rape because of their scent? Is that what you’re really telling me?
We’ve seen this kind of story before, going all the way back to some versions of siren songs, the persistent hot Faerie Queen trope, or even for a more modern example, the Veela in the Harry Potter series.
It’s dumb. I mean, come on. In our modern era, where we have so much knowledge, so much history behind us to learn from the mistakes of others, you’re telling me that we’re still repeating this lie about a seductively beautiful woman creature that robs a man of all reason and self-control?
It’s creepy and gross and it sends a horrible message to the reader because every single character just accepts it as “the way things are.” At least in some of the old stories, there was a way out through sheer force of will.
It’s especially weird, because I think Haskell intended this as a feminist story.
If they had seen the creature as equal to human, those who had abused her would have felt the slice of the guillotine. But because her kind did not speak a language easily understood, they were treated as less than. And the only voice she had in this world was when decent people saw wrong and strived to right it, but that did not happen often enough.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 4617-4619). Galaxy Press, Inc.
She said we were always in danger among men.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 4696-4697). Galaxy Press, Inc.
Always? Always, now? So you’re the type of writer who doesn’t believe a man and a woman can simply be friends? Isn’t that what you’re saying, between the lines?
Argh. The longer I look at this, the more I second-guess myself, turning it over, trying to prove to myself that I’m wrong about it, but never able to find any hint of it.
And it’s really a shame, because some of the little worldbuilding details like the cultural dress, feather stubble on the face, and the disguised beak are fascinating. It should have been a good story. It should have been.
But it was days after reading it, and I realized I was still angry. Not just angry, infuriated. In some ways, I still am. I think it’s going to fester with me for a long time.
“Tsuu, Tsuu, Kasva Suuremasse” by Rebecca E. Treasure
⭐⭐
Rating: 2 out of 5.
TW: multiple violent character deaths, prostitution, themes of war, grief, and loss
So while I was already in such a chipper mood from the preceding story, this one starts with a funeral. I took some time before plunging into it, but I’m not sure it was enough.
Cons?
It’s winter.
It’s war.
Everyone is freezing, starving, and dying.
It’s really depressing.
Pros?
We’ve got another granny protagonist! You may not remember, but I dubbed 2021 “The Year of the Granny” in SF/F because of all the sweet elderly protagonists that kept popping up. I’m remembering in particular the fight with the crochet hook by Barbara Lund’s protagonist in “Sixers” in last year’s anthology. There’s something immensely satisfying in seeing these ladies go on adventures, proving that it doesn’t matter what age you are. You can still bring wreck and ruin to the world. Or, you know, save it, if the mood strikes you.
The primary relationship is grandmother/grandson
It’s steeped in Russian history and folklore.
But even with that, it’s kind of hard for me to really like the story. Granted, that might be more of a me problem than anything else, but I just don’t have the stamina to watch Emily crunch through mile after mile of snow, not even daring to hope they’re going to survive.
It’s not exactly a feel-good one. At least Emily tries her best. That’s more than a lot of us can say.
Interlude: “The Single Most Important Piece of Advice” by Frank Herbert
Normally I’d skip the interlude, but I know you’re curious what the Single Most Important is, according to the author of Dune, esteemed writer, etc., etc. And since he tells you in the first paragraph, I don’t feel like quoting it is really spoiling anything.
…concentrate on story…A good story makes interesting things happen to a character with whom the reader can identify.
Galaxy Press, Publisher. Writers of the Future Vol 38 Advance Reading Copy (Kindle Locations 5373-5375). Galaxy Press, Inc.
Now just do that, right? Like it’s easy.
Ah, writing.
That’s Part I!
Only 3,500 words or so later and now you understand why I split this. You’re welcome, darling. I know, I know.
But in all seriousness, thank you for reading all the way to the end, and please check out the second half of this ginormous review next week. There’s more great stories coming!
And if I’ve wooed you with my witty descriptions of the anthology and you’re desperate to read it yourself, guess what! My ARC review this year is so late that you can! The eBook edition of Vol. 38 is out now, and the paperback releases on June 28. I don’t get reimbursed for any sales, but hey, it’s worth it just to have more people enjoy “The Squid is My Brother” and “The Phantom Carnival.”
Oops. Did I say “The Phantom Carnival?” Just pretend you didn’t hear that.
Stay tuned for Part II and until next time, happy reading!
I know I warned you, but a month and a half is a really long time to wait. So thank you, everyone, for sticking with me and not deleting the blog from your feed while I was gone.
Why was I gone?
Well…this happened
My first soloist bouquet!
…and this happened
Yeah, that’s not actually me in graduation garb. Because having my photos on here kind of kills the anonymity… Photo by Stanley Morales on Pexels.com
And finals and a bunch of other stuff also happened, but we don’t want to talk about those.
So I’m…tired. But I’m also back. And that means Bookmarkedone is going to have a regular posting schedule again for the first time in…an embarrassingly long while.
I’ll probably take a few days off to breathe first, but in the meantime, here’s a sneak peak of what’s coming to the blog in the next few weeks:
My review of Writers of the Future Vol. 38! It’s not technically an ARC review anymore since the eBook is available for purchase, but I’m still very proud of this one.
Book Haul! Technically I think two book haul posts because I’m super behind!
Music/Life off the Page update! No further details because…spoilers. Yeah, we’ll go with that.
I went thrifting…not sure if this is important, but it was fun.
Writers of the Future Vol. 29 review! Because I read it and I want to talk about it!
I got tagged by Elizabeth Hyde at The Temperamental Writer! And it took me a ridiculously long time to realize it, so (whispers) I’m sorry. You can go check out her post here while waiting for mine. Or just read all her posts. That’s great too.
In the meantime, I have a colleague’s recital to attend. And I’m going to bake a cake. And sleep should probably be in there somewhere?
So who’s up for a book rant about alchemy, childhood trauma, steampunkery and necromancy? Oh yeah, there’s also a giant rabbit.
Refill your tea tankards and grab your cuddliest plushies, because here comes a novel centered around the question “What if instead of ‘Who wants to live forever,’ or ‘Can we change lead to gold,’ we just use alchemy to make something out of nothing and create murder and mechanical mayhem in the process?”
Book: Mechanics of the Past by K. A. Ashcomb
Series: Glorious Mishaps, No. 3
Genre: Steampunk Fantasy
Content for the Sensitive Reader: frequent PG-13 language, necromancy, kidnapping, murder, witchcraft, spirit possession, seduction, nudity, clearly implied sexual encounters, emotionally (and possibly physically) abusive family relationships, some thematic/violent scenes, incestual attraction, gambling, casual alcohol use. Discretion is strongly advised for younger audiences.
BookmarkedOne Rating: 4/10
Disclaimer: I received a free copy of this book via Booktasters and the author in exchange for an honest review. All opinions herein are my own. Did I mention I got a free book? Because that’s awesome.
SPOILERS CLEARLY MARKED–READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
I really wanted to love this book. There are some really nice things to be said about it. Even before I knew this was the third book, I was impressed by how Ashcomb just throws the reader into the deep end and expects them to figure things out as they go. Harriet Stowe enslaving someone in the name of greater peace? Sorry, that’s backstory. You’ll just have to wonder about it. The very first paragraph? Already in the middle of a heist. Main characters? En route to their destination, in the middle of something you don’t fully understand. And there are also little phrases like the reference to Moby Dick and “the real McCoy” that make you wonder just what combination of reality and possibility, the familiar and the strange, that this world is made of. Not to mention the things that are entirely Ashcomb’s, like “get my octopuses in a row.” And I haven’t seen someone have this much fun with footnotes since Nanny Piggins.
So what’s not to like?
Well, for starters, I’m not a big fan of swearing in books. That’s my personal pet peeve that’s probably going to be reserved for an explanatory post of its own one day. So I’ll try to set that aside for now and look at the writing instead.
Let’s begin with the characters.
A warning: there are a lot of characters in this book. And the book changes focalization every chapter, switching viewpoints from character to character, which can be…difficult. I think Sigourney Perri is the protagonist, but I could be wrong. I counted eight different focalized characters, and frankly, I might have missed one. Just so you’re prepared.
On to introductions!
Margaret. The book opens with the reader looking through Margaret’s eyes, and to keep from spoiling too much, I’ll just say it’s a good move. She’s violent. Deliciously so. And Ashcomb tells you just enough in that opening to keep you guessing, keep you curious about what’s going on, wondering what the stakes are but feeling their height–I have a thing for heists, okay? In retrospect, I’m actually wishing Margaret were a more important character…but hey, that’s just me.
Sigourney Perri. Anyway, as soon as Margaret’s done in the prologue, we jump to our girl, this shy thing with major social anxiety, childhood trauma, way too much guilt, and the literal ability to disappear. For all that it’s a little depressing to read her berating herself the whole time, Sigourney is the easiest for me to relate to, and she’s also one of the most dynamic characters.
Siarl. With Sigourney comes her “plus one,” Siarl Ellis, and her luck/personal deity/pet, the Rabbit. I wanted to like Siarl more than I did. But we’re introduced to him in the middle of “we-have-been-on-the-road-so-long-can-we-please-get-out-are-we-there-yet” headache and argument combo…which is not flattering for the best and most brilliant of characters. Sigourney says he’s brilliant and kind and idealistic, but then she would, wouldn’t she? She’s supposed to be in love with him. I didn’t buy it. It isn’t until the last few chapters of the book that he actually starts to be useful, let alone a well-rounded character.
The Rabbit, Sigourney’s second traveling companion. He seems protective of Sigourney, almost like her dad. A ridiculously irresponsible alcoholic dad, but hey. And when we say “The Rabbit?” He’s actually a rabbit. Really, all we could ask for is steampunk with a giant shapeshifting bunny. I mean, what more do you want? Oh yeah, he’s also the “god of luck.” In the most amusingly chaotic way possible.
Rose Pettyshare: a willful banker from Necropolis (apparently the necromancy capital of the world, city of the dead, full of fog and octopuses–which we unfortunately don’t visit in the book). She’s a charming, independent little banker woman who takes fencing lessons, doesn’t like corsets, and makes too much trouble to fit in. Delightful, right? Unfortunately, she’s also a greedy little jerk. I’m incredibly regretful about that point. I actually liked Rose. But although she’s surprising in the lengths she’ll go to, in the end she doesn’t change at all–SPOILER–at the end of the book, she’s gambling all her money away just as she finally got out of debt. Of all the characters, I should dislike her the most because she sees no problem with necromancy fueling the future, and accordingly, it’s implied she has no problem with kidnapping and murder to get whatever she wants–END SPOILER.
Percy Allread: With Rose comes her bookkeeper, who I honestly liked just because he wasn’t having any of the nonsense the other characters were actively creating. But weirdly, the interesting backstory about him comes at the very end. I was rooting for him to be the cool character, so stiff and wooden through the first half, staying out of the overblown drama, refusing to talk about himself, minding his own business (and Rose’s!) and clearly keeping so many secrets. Well, I still think he’d be an interesting character. Watching him bloom with life when he gets agitated is really a great moment in the book–but I guess I’ll have to wait for Percy to be the hero or villain I know he could be in another book. It didn’t happen in this one.
Abigail: lady fencing instructor/gambling house owner remarkably similar to that cool lady from Enola Holmes who ran the tea shop/ladies’ martial arts parlor. I am one hundred percent okay with this being the next latest and greatest fiction trope.
Justice: literally the ideal of justice, if you ask her. If you ask me, she’s a sulky militant who doesn’t know the first thing about what’s just and is abusing everyone and everything because she can. Ultimate power leads to ultimate corruption, as they say.
Levi Perri: Drumroll please! Introducing our incredibly problematic alchemist who is willing to lie, kidnap, murder, soul extract, hire demons, and enslave others indefinitely to get what he wants, which is to make little gold coins and seeds out of nothing. Problematic actions include but are not limited to flashing the neighbors, being a jerk to the maid who cooks and cleans and puts up with all his nonsense, using necromancy, and contemplating the murder of his own sister. I hate Levi. I know he’s supposed to have a redemption arc, but I still think he’s a pathetic jerk of a human being. I have patience for slow books. I’m good with characters who know what they’re doing is wrong and don’t care in the least. I do not have patience for undisciplined selfish jerks who know they’re doing something wrong and just go “Ehhh. I’ll have that moral argument with myself…later.” These are fictional cowards.
Otis: Necromancer extraordinaire who cares about himself, also himself, and only himself. Also known to be extremely sulky and a total womanizer. But he can shape shift into an otter and he’s on the run for his life, so…yeah, it’s actually hard to say if I dislike him more than Levi. I think Levi still wins worst character, which is saying a lot.
The Random Deaf Mechanic (or he who crafts pomander goldfish): also a focalized character for one chapter. His scene is so brief I honestly forgot about him, but he seemed nice. Less problematic than the gang we spend the most time with, actually.
Next up is the plot. I’ve already hinted this is about Levi’s alchemical machine going one step further than “lead into gold” by challenging “nothing (except necromancy) into gold.” But it’s also about family–Levi and Sigourney are estranged siblings finding their way together again.
And there’s nothing wrong with that, a resolution between siblings. But turning something to gold? We’ve seen that before, dozens of times, in different trappings. It’s a familiar refrain.
But a giant rabbit who can control probability and is called the “god of luck?” Now that’s something you don’t see every day!
Honestly, I wish Ashcomb had explored this more. Of course, being that I’ve stumbled into this series only in book three, it could be my wish has already been granted. But in this book, it stays in the background. Ashcomb comments that there’s a chaotic rabbit casually causing havoc as people crash into each other and the fabric of reality wears thin because he’s bored today as if she were saying “It was foggy in Threebeanvalley today.”
So much unexpected possibility.
There’s also the fact that Siarl and Sigourney are in the middle of the “third act breakup” for the entirety of the book.
Awkward. Very awkward.
I wanted to like them together. I like a light, sweet romance where it’s all in a glance, surreptitious hand-holding and occasionally setting the world on fire and bleeding out villains for each other. When it’s up to you the reader to realize how much emotion is hidden in every shy, tender gesture. I wanted to think Sigourney had found a protector against the noisy, chaotic, social world, a friend, someone who saw the beauty and goodness in her even when she was invisible, when she was at her worst–and I couldn’t do it.
So much of the book, Sigourney is thinking “This isn’t going to work,” and trying to push him away. Even when they say “I love you,” it sounds wooden, like “How are you?/I’m fine.” Reflexive and empty. There isn’t even the tension, the slipping feeling of knowing their relationship isn’t working. It just feels dead.
…And since Ashcomb’s book at heart is about how messy, complicated, and vital family dynamics and relationships are…this didn’t work well for me. I really wish it had. It’s such a complex, beautiful, important subject! But somehow it all just felt hopeless and dark.
And while we’re on the subject of relationships, let’s go back to Sigourney and Levi. Early on, it’s pretty clear Sigourney was abused as a kid. Alcoholic dad, neglectful mom. And where does Levi fit into this picture?
Not that Sigourney’s mother and father had been horrible people. They’d been just indifferent towards her. It was her brother, Levi, who’d had a twisted mind. He’d tormented Sigourney her whole childhood, being violent towards her in the name of curiosity. He had never been reprimanded by their parents, who saw their firstborn son as perfect and a miracle, unlike Sigourney. She was a burden. One extra mouth to feed, and the most despicable sort: a female.
K.A. Ashcomb. Mechanics of the Past (Kindle Locations 379-382), emphasis mine.
In context, that sounds like Levi was physically abusive to his sister. And considering what he’s willing to do later in the book, even considering Sigourney a means to an end, I don’t think that conclusion is a big leap of logic.
Yeah. That’s not okay.
SPOILER
And this is the brother who gets off scot-free at the end of the novel. Other characters lose friends, health, freedom, but he gets a second chance at messing everything up all over again. No lasting repercussions.
He doesn’t deserve to blame Sigourney for escaping an abusive relationship. He doesn’t deserve her apology. She has nothing to apologize for. And yet at the end of the novel, it’s as if they pretend that line about him being violent “in the name of curiosity” never happened and they can just blame their parents and move forward together. Either it’s a continuity error or it’s a relationship that’s really, really messed up.
If it were up to me, I’d tell Sigourney to get as far away from him as possible. You don’t trust people like that. Not until they’re ready to prove to you they’ve changed. And locking you in a closet with the intention to use you for alchemical purposes is not a sign of familial feeling.
Levi’s an abusive jerk who deserves everything he got and then some.
END SPOILER
Look, I could probably keep ranting about this book for days, but this post is already so long I’m going to bet only three people will make it all the way to the end. I’ll skip to my last point.
I could argue that there’s too much chit-chat, that the action scenes are often a little slow, but what I’d really be getting at is the moralizing.
Every time one of the characters has to do anything, they think.
A lot.
I don’t mean you’re getting to see their process and see the change in character towards redemption or corruption. That would be something. This is more of a daydream on a particular topic, the author’s warm-ups, if you will. It’s philosophizing, moralizing on a topic, and to prevent it sounding too preachy, Ashcomb never gives a definitive conclusion “This is right and good” or “This is wrong.”
Personally, I don’t think it works. A little subtlety would go a long way. This much time, with no conclusion to the moral argument just feels like the characters can’t make up their minds, just poorly justifying their actions when they’ve never known anything about logic in their entire lives.
It would be one thing if it happened a handful of times. But we’re talking about the beginning of almost every chapter. And the result of that many long moral arguments with literally no moral is that the reader is annoyed. You zone out and start to wonder about the characters–do you believe in anything? Do you care about anything? If you don’t believe something is right–how do you even do anything? How do you make decisions? How do you get out of bed in the morning? How do you know you aren’t just making the world worse and worse for everyone? Does that even matter to you? I mean, these are the characters who have been through a lot. You’d think they’d learn some core principles eventually, even if it’s as something as simple as Sigourney hating violence or alcohol because of her upbringing. Tell me they feel something, believe something, right?
But no. There are motivations, like Levi’s desire for the alchemical machines to work, Rose’s desire for money, Justice’s for power. But as far as believing in anything? Their logic is flawed. Stupid, even. Lazy. They don’t follow the thread of moral reasoning to its heart because they don’t want to. They’re weak cowards. They already know that the only reason you shouldn’t think is because you already know you’re wrong.
I don’t have patience for those kind of people, characters or otherwise. I don’t care if it feels right in the moment. I’m not going to wait around while your decisions lead to someone else bleeding out in the ditch.
Know who you are. Know what you do. You can’t run from the consequences. The very fabric of the world won’t allow it. And that’s true no matter what universe you’re in.
So…yeah. That’s Mechanics of the Past. Like a lot of independent or small press books I run into, I feel like with a little more press and a lot more editing, the raw potential could have been shaped into something really great.
As it is…K. A. Ashcomb, if you’re reading, I hope I didn’t crush your dreams too badly. You wrote three books, and more than once in those first few pages I caught myself smiling at your humor. So congratulate yourself on your accomplishments, join the growing club of people who hate my little blog (because I promise I can take it)–and go write another book.
BookmarkedOne 