Book Reviews: Royal Exile
Valisar by Fiona McIntosh. Book 1.
Normally I like to start these reviews by acknowledging any misgivings I may have had coming in to reading a book but in this case I can’t do that. I’ve read other books by this author and I haven’t regretted a one. So I knew going in to Royal Exile I was in for a good read.
Royal Exile begins just as the main antagonist, Loethar, is about to enjoy victory in his campaign to conquer the Denova Set, an alliance of several kingdoms. He moves into the last kingdom standing and takes it with very little resistance.
Of course it would have been a very short book if it had been about his war. The king of Penraven was able to ensure the safety of his son and Royal Exile follows Leonel’s story as he watches the fate of his parents from the secret passages within the palace. He and his guardian, Gavriel, need to find a way out and to safety.
As I mentioned, I went into this book expecting to enjoy myself. I just didn’t anticipate how much. Loethar is a delightfully ambiguous character who, while clearly not a nice person, shows glimpses of hidden depths. He’s surrounded by people who want different things from him instead of simply because they enjoy his company and he knows it. His vendetta against the Valisars (the ruling family in Penraven) seems somehow personal and not just a grab for power.
Of course the protagonist deserves a mention too. Twelve-year-old Leonel was mature, though not so much as to make his stated age ring false but the character I most enjoyed, after Loethar of course, was Kilt Faris, the charming bandit. I’m a sucker for a lovable rogue.
The trademark graphic brutality is there of course, so I wouldn’t recommend it for children or the weak-stomached. Give it a try if you’re not easily deterred by a little gruesomeness.
Book Reviews: Lamplighter
Monster-Blood Tattoo by D. M. Cornish. Book 2.
I know I only just set up my 30-second-reviews-for-book-2 rule but I’m making an exception for Lamplighter because, well, I make the rules in my little corner of the internet. And I have an excellent reason for breaking my own rule. Lamplighter warrants its own full review.
As Rossamünd has changed, so has the tone of the book. He (Rossamünd) has lost that occasionally frustrating inability to believe anyone might be less than honest with him which got him in such hot water when dealing with Poundinch in Foundling but has held on to enough of his naivety to still be charming. He is an increasingly good judge of character — much better at picking the good nuts from the bad. In other words, he’s growing up.
The intensity of the book has increased as well, with theroscades (monster attacks) happening ever more frequently. During Foundling there was very little death, leaving me wondering a little how dangerous these monsters could really be. Well, in Lamplighter I found out. Yet at the same time the monsters were still not all evil. In fact, the most vicious, deliberate cruelties were perpetrated by humans again. We also got a far closer look at gudgeons, the man-made monsters cobbled together from bits of the dead, and met a man who had been saved from death by gudgeon by a kindly monster.
We also got to spend a little more time with Europe, by far my favourite character. She’s part heroine, part villainess, an indiscriminate killer of good monsters and bad. In spite of that, she’s always there to help Rossamund out of scrapes when she’s truly needed without coming across as a handy deus ex machina.
The sense of whimsy and the quaint use of language which so engaged me in Foundling were still present, as were the delightful names. (Tremendus Twörp springs to mind.) Lamplighter, though darker than Foundling was a fun read all round. I highly recommend it.
Book Reviews: The Jackal of Nar
Tyrants and Kings by John Marco. Book 1.
I had to think long and hard about whether I would review this book. For starters, it was released almost ten years ago. Also, I decided right at the outset these reviews were my way of sharing with you the books I was in some way surprised to have enjoyed, or that I fell utterly in love with.
The Jackal of Nar was heavy going. Normally I breeze through books but this one took me a great deal of time. By the time I put the books down I felt like I had achieved some massive feat of endurance. Maybe I had.
The more I thought about it, the more I realised the problem wasn’t with the book, it was with my expectations. I’ve come to expect the people I like to survive at least until the end of the first book. I expect this even when the characters are fighting in some sort of war. I suspect my fantasy gateway drugs set me up for that. For the longest time I thought that in fantasy only the bad died young. Though clearly a fantasy novel, the Jackal of Nar is grounded in reality when it comes to the chances of survival during a battle.
Much of the book revolves around war. It’s a situation which brings out the best and worst in everyone and emphasises the existence of moral grey areas. Some characters do good things for good reasons and bad. Likewise, they do bad things. Some who start out heroes become distinctly less so and others who start out as villains turn out to be far nobler than we first believed. Lives were lost needlessly, sometimes gratuitously. It really was war. It left me a little shell-shocked.
After a certain amount of recovery time, I decided I did like the book in my own, roundabout way. I may not have enjoyed it exactly, but I don’t regret reading it. If nothing else, it made me think. And I like to think.
If you’re looking for some light, fluffy reading, look elsewhere. It’s not a bad book, it’s just not an easy one. If you’re after something a bit more serious, this isn’t a bad choice.
Book Reviews: The Blade Itself
The First Law by Joe Abercrombie. Book 1. Not child-friendly.
If I was puritanical about swearing in my fantasy novels I wouldn’t have gotten past page 1. I mean that literally as anyone who has read any of the First Law books will know. There’s already been plenty of internet discussion about that so I won’t bother to rehash. Although I did find the replacement of the more familiar (to me) balls with “fruits” a little odd in light of the fact that often came directly on the tail of a character talking or thinking about his cock. That may be a common term in England though. If an English person wants to confirm or deny, feel free to contact me.
The Book Itself.
Fantasy is familiar territory to me and the phrase “familiarity breeds contempt” is cliche but true. I bought this book based solely on the glowing review of a hard-to-impress friend. Had he not been so overwhelmingly impressed by the book I would have put it back on the shelf the moment I saw the word “barbarian” on the back cover. Even that trusted person’s recommendation nearly lost me at “thinking man’s barbarian” because I automatically replace “thinking” with “pompous” in situations like that. I set aside my closed-minded prejudices and bought it anyway.
The world is dirty. The characters display varying levels of bastardry, when they’re not bemoaning their lots in life. But even when they’re feeling sorry for themselves, they’re funny. Inquisitor Glokta, heroic-fencer-turned-crippled-interrogator, is bitter about his changed status but there’s a sharp humour to his self-pitying asides. Logen, the extensively scarred barbarian makes sure he smiles at every woman he sees because it’s been a while and you just never know. Bayaz, the First of the Magi, comes across as being borderline senile. And Jezal is pure, undiluted elitist wanker. Honestly, I’m not sure whether my enjoyment of these characters says more about them or me.
The book worked for me because I enjoyed the more casual tone of the narrative. The formality I find in many fantasy novels tends to keep me at arm’s length from the POV characters. In The Blade Itself, I found the filter through which each saw the events around them helped to understand the characters and make them a little bit less unsympathetic. As first books go, this was a good one. And on a purely cosmetic level, I found the chainmail-bikiniless cover appealing for that unique plainness and the texture pleasing to the fingertips. No, really. It’s almost velvety.
In light of most of what I’ve just said, it may come as a surprise that I recommend this book to fantasy fans looking for a different take on the genre. But I do, with one caveat. If you are easily offended by bad language, leave it alone. No point getting your fruits in a twist over a book.
Book Reviews: Sasha
A Trial of Blood & Steel by Joel Shepherd. Book 1.
I picked this book up with high expectations. It met with rave reviews at the book club, reviews of the good variety which is fairly rare. Many books never rise above “mild disinterest” so I felt I was missing out on something special, not having read it. Still, other things kept jumping the queue and I just never really got around to reading it until last week. I’m kind of kicking myself now.
The rave reviews were well deserved. I was drawn in by the characters and held firm by the story. In fact, I’m kind of glad Brendan was at work today because for first time I can remember, I actually talked to a book. That’s right. Just like the way (crazy) people talk to the people on TV and in movies, I was talking to the characters.
As always, I shall try not to go into too much detail (read: yammer on like a rabid fangirl).
The main character, Sasha (obviously), manages to be a strong female fantasy character without crossing the line into man-in-a-woman’s-body. She is surrounded by unique and distinct characters, all of whom add to the story instead of acting as page-fillers. The world and its cultures are well-formed and also distinct from each other, though with common elements as would naturally happen when cultures grow up next door to one another. The story builds up pace and by the end I felt like I couldn’t read fast enough.
Sasha is cheeky at best, at worst she’s impetuous, headstrong and profoundly quick-tempered. There are consequences to every badly thought-out action she takes, and those consequences impact upon not just her but the people she cares about too. As strong as she is, she is also swept up by events beyond her control. Her mentor, Kessligh, acts as a balance.
The cast of characters is massive, revolving around a few key figures but incorporating two major cultures and aspects of two others. Though there is an aspect of prophecy, a fantasy staple, nobody throws around any fireballs or calls down the wrath of any gods. They lived or died through their own abilities, their own wits or through luck. I never stumbled across any obvious deus ex machina plot turns (figurative or literal — both are genre hazards). At no point did I think, nobody is going to do that. Even for all her talents, Sasha doesn’t come across as some implausible wunderkind. She’s as human as her friends and her enemies.
All in all, it’s a well-crafted story and book 2 is now officially on my I-want list.
Book Reviews: The Electric Church
Since my last foray into the worlds of science-fiction I’ve discovered an appreciation for the genre I never realised I had. In the spirit of that appreciation I bring you The Electric Church by Jeff Somers.
The Electric Church is set in a future where the world has been unified under the control of the Joint Council. Humans being what they are, the change didn’t happen smoothly and most, if not all, cities are giant piles of partially rebuilt rubble. The police force is uniformly corrupt, as police forces are prone to become in totalitarian regimes. A new religion has sprung up and is threatening to take over the world.
I’ve said before, my major peeve with SF is that too many authors can’t resist turning humanity into some noble race which has moved beyond its petty differences and selfish urges thanks to the Miracle of Technology. Not so The Electric Church. People are dirty, wretched creatures whose primary concern is inevitably their own survival, followed closely by money. If the world was Unified tomorrow, these are the people who would be left. They’re not evolved, they’re not enlightened, they’re human survivors. Unless they’re Monks.
I can’t think of a single character I would call sympathetic. In fact, if I met any one of them in a dark alley I’d be surprised if I lived long enough to scream. But somehow they come together to create something I didn’t want to step away from. They were very much the underdogs, and who doesn’t like a good underdog?
Add to them a bunch of very creepy cyborg Monks and a pair of pursuers with the resources and the ruthlessness to track the protagonist anywhere he might choose to go. By the end of the book I was hoping a man I should have loathed would wipe both organisations off the face of the world.
The Electric Church is a great read if you like a good dystopia.
Book Reviews: Foundling
I read even less YA (that’s young adult) fiction than I do science fiction. Under normal circumstances I never would have picked Foundling up off the shelf, let alone read it. It’s YA. It’s illustrated. It’s not the sort of book I would expect to enjoy. When I opened it, things went from bad to worse. The first name on the acknowledgments page was God. I don’t begrudge anyone their right to believe whatever they want, but I really think people need to learn how to take credit for their own hard work. I also get a little turned off by the idea of fiction as a soapbox, a thinly-veiled medium for getting across some sort of “message”. So the bar was set pretty high for Foundling.
Now I should start by pointing out, this was D.M. Cornish’s first book. There are teething problems. It’s a little unsteady in the beginning. Also, some of the explanations were repeated too many times, especially in light of the glossary which takes up a good quarter (or thereabouts) of the book’s bulk.
But that glossary (or explicarium — spurious list of invented or obscure words drafted to apparently make some fabulous, fabricated tale more palatable), the appendices and the maps, not to mention the illustrations scattered throughout the book all add a richness to the world which may not have shone through otherwise. So many fantasy worlds are little more than sketches of the story’s immediate vicinity. The Half-Continent spreads out well beyond the borders of Foundling.
The book itself is the story of Rossamünd Bookchild and his adventures upon leaving his childhood home, Madam Opera’s Estimable Marine Society for Foundling Boys and Girls. There they had raised him to aspire to a life on the vinegar seas but to his dismay he was hired on as a lamplighter instead. They sent him out, all on his own, to make his own way to the fortress where he was to be trained. Only things, as they tend to do in books, went awry and he found himself stumbling from one dreadful situation to another.
As the tale unfolds, Rossamünd meets some dreadful human beings and some kindly monsters. He’s been raised to think of all monsters as evil and deserving of death but comes to question that after the fate of the Misbegotten Schrewd and later befriending a small monster named Freckle. Indeed, perhaps the most evil character in the book is human, as well as the most morally ambiguous.
In spite of the intended age group for Foundling, I adored every page. The vocabulary isn’t over-simplified to the point where it borders on talking down to its intended audience and it’s not empty, fluffy drivel (like another recent YA read I shan’t name here). There’s a charm about it which for some strange reason puts me in mind of Roald Dahl. The author has a gift for naming his characters (Sloughscab? Seriously?) which is just delightful. Also: not even a little bit preachy.
Read it. Now.
Book Reviews: Hunter’s Run
I seldom read science fiction and there’s a reason for that. I find it difficult to find SF which doesn’t revolve around either a future military or get so caught up in its shinies it forgets to have a decent cast of characters and storyline.
The story behind Hunter’s Run (not the storyline, but the story of the book itself) is an interesting one. It’s been through three authors in its thirty-year lifespan. I honestly wasn’t sure how that would come together.
As it turned out, I enjoyed it. There was no part where I thought, oh yes, we’ve switched authors here. The story, while it featured aliens and technology, wasn’t about aliens or technology. It was about a guy, someone not particularly sympathetic, someone who hadn’t been polished until he sparkled then got a rod jammed up his nether regions (I’m looking at you, Star Trek). Yet somehow I found myself bonding with him as the book went along until, in the end, I really wanted everything to work out in his favour. Its cast of characters was small, most of the time is spent in the wilderness but it didn’t feel incomplete or sparsely populated.
I know I should do a brief run-down but I’m notorious for spoilers, so I’m not going to go into the plot. Instead I’ll direct you here, to the Harper Collins (the publisher’s) website.
All in all, I’d say it’s worth a read.