The Desert of Souls - Howard Andrew Jones

One Thousand and One Nights, or as it's better known in the English speaking world, Arabian Nights, is a collection of Middle Eastern folk tales compiled in Arabic during the Islamic Golden Age. The basic premise is that a Persian king discovers his wife's infidelity and has her executed. Deciding all women are the same, the king marries a series of virgins only to execute each one the next morning, before she has a chance to cuckold him. Eventually the vizier cannot find any more virgins until his daughter, Scheherazade, volunteers herself as the next bride. On the night of their marriage, she begins to tell the king a tale, but does not end it, forcing the king to postpone her execution in order to hear the conclusion. The next night, as soon as she finishes the tale, she begins a new one, and the king, eager to hear the conclusion, postpones her execution once again. So it goes on for 1,001 nights.

Built around that frame story, Scheherazade narrates historical tales, love stories, tragedies, comedies, poems, burlesques, and even erotica. The book in its entirety demonstrates many innovative literary techniques like the aforementioned frame story, embedded narratives, foreshadowing, and unreliable narrators. Thematically, the stories heavily utilize fate and destiny, most prevalent being the notion of the self-fulfilling prophecy. Elements of genre tropes from crime fiction, horror, and science fiction, pop up frequently. The stories aren't just incredibly compelling, but they paint a much different perspective of the Islamic history and culture than Western perception might imply.

This is a review about The Desert of Souls by Howard Andrew Jones, or at least it was when I started it. The truth is I can't talk about one without the other.

Desert of Souls is the story of two common men -- Asim and Dabir -- in 8th century Baghdad. It begins with a strange plea to the vizier to safeguard a relic from falling into the wrong hands. The vizier tasks his resident scholar, Dabir, to unlock the mystery. When the relic is stolen, both Dabir and Asim are sent to retrieve it. Along the way they'll struggle against fate and destiny, and their fair share of monsters. While written very much in a sword and sorcery tradition, Jones's debut novel is more the adult version of Disney's Aladdin (sans Robin Williams and Gilbert Godfrey) than a Middle Eastern Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser, utilizing the tropes and structures from Arabian Nights to accomplish a modern interpretation.

The main motive power of the narrative comes from the mystery surrounding the relic. At its core, Desert of Souls is a crime thriller. Laced around its edges are elements of both horror and science fiction, most of which comes from interactions with the fantastic, be they djinns, magic powers, necromancy, or annoying talking parrots (just kidding, it's really a giant snake). Jones ups the ante by challenging his characters early on with a fortune teller who reveals their fates further paying tribute to Scheherazade's tales.

Jones doesn't stop with just the flavor of Arabian Nights, he also uses similar structures and literary traditions. Although not couched as a frame story (a la Rothfuss's The Kingkiller Chronicles) Jones tells his story via a first person narrator that recognizes himself as a storyteller. Asim is frequently self referential, acknowledging his role in the telling and his capabilities therein. Jones likewise treats the reader to 'stories within stories' that recount Asim and Dabir's earlier adventures. As one ended, a question arose:

Mahmoud drew close. "Last time you told the tale, the dead king called forth a demon with a man's and you fought it while Dabir struggled through the magic circle." 

"Well," I said, "a good storyteller tailors his story for his audience."

A short passage, but one that calls into question the veracity of the entire narration.

I would be remiss if I didn't credit Jones's other inspiration, and one that he has often cited as the managing Editor of Black Gate Magazine. Much of the pacing and action can be credited to his love of Robert E. Howard (and his disciples). I couldn't put it down once I started it, carried forward by the enthralling pace and engaging prose. I was invested in the fate of the characters despite the choice in narration that assured their survival. The final product is something that isn't just a 'Middle Eastern Fantasy'. It's a novel that honors the time honored themes and techniques on which today's stories rest.

It embraces the past, infused with Arabian Nights and early 20th century fantasy, though not at the expense of good storytelling. None of the purple prose predilections of either era make their way into Jones's text. He relies on excellent technique, building his world through sensible character interaction, dialogue, and his clever use of the 'story within a story'. Many will call Howard Andrew Jones a writer of historical adventure fantasy. It's an accurate description, but one that sells him woefully short. The Desert of Souls is a masterful novel that resonates on a visceral and meta-fictional level that's rarely equalled. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

All Men of Genius - Lev AC Rosen

I had a bit of frustration with Lev AC Rosen's debut novel, All Men of Genius, and I recognize it may be a controversial one as it has nothing to do with his talent as a writer or the quality of his novel.  In fact, the novel's voice is great, using third person omniscient that strikes a perfect balance of authentic Victorian and modern convention.  The tagline on the dust jacket calling it inspired by Shakespeare's Twelfth Night and Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest is right on and I might add a dash of Charles Dicken's knack for character and setting.  Even the plot is well executed, demonstrating the power of a straightforward story when populated by things the reader cares about.

Violet Adams is a brilliant young scientist barred from study at the world's greatest scientific institution by her gender.  Determined to continue her studies, and prove that women deserve a place at the table, she disguises herself as her twin brother Ashton.  Of course, keeping the secret of her sex isn't easy with her friend Jack’s constant pranking and the headmaster's (Duke Ernest Illryia) young ward, Cecily, developing feelings for Violet’s alter ego.  Add in some blackmail, mysterious killer automata, and Violet’s burgeoning affection for the duke, and Rosen has a steampunk Victorian response to J.K Rowling's Harry Potter franchise (albeit more adult).

Where the novel raises an eyebrow, for me, is in the constant emphasis on sexuality and gender.  Here's a run-down of some of the related plot devices.  Violet is a woman dressed as a man.  Violet's twin brother, Ashton, is gay.  Professor Valentine likes to have sex with senior citizens.  Duke Illryia is questioning.  No one seems to have a sexual relationship with anyone their own age.  Cecily has a thing for the cross-dressed Ashton (Violet).  I could go on, but things might get spoilery.

Early on I found the treatment of Violet's cross dressing and Ashton's sexuality to be both refreshing and authentic.  But, as the novel wore on I became overwhelmed, as I felt constantly assailed by the sexual proclivities of every character.  I applaud the desire to put alternate lifestyles in the spotlight.  However, I think it does a disservice when it feels like token offerings to inclusiveness, which too often seemed to be the case in Rosen's debut.

And yet, here I am talking about it.  In pushing the envelope, then sealing another one and pushing it right behind the first, Rosen compels his readers to confront the issue.  Despite my frustrations with it from a storytelling perspective, I can't help but applaud him for what he's trying to accomplish.  All Men of Genius is a novel I would happily hand to my someday teenage daughter (she's two now).  The message embedded in it is one of tolerance and acceptance, but also of demanding equality, making it one of the more important 2011 novels I've read -- especially considering its cosmetic appeal to younger readers.

Some might criticize the stiffness of the characters, an unfortunate side effect of Rosen's chosen narrative style.  Other's might turn their nose up at the neat bow Rosen puts on everything. or the general acceptance of prostitution.  To the latter point, some might call that an indictment of its appropriateness for a younger reader (and they might be right, as that, and several other items, are mature in nature).  My response?  It's Victorian!  Reflected in everything from the narrative voice, to the novel's structure, to the mores of the time, Rosen never forgets it and embraces it with aplomb.

All Men of Genius is a novel I can recommend -- especially to younger readers or parents although others will find enjoyment as well.  In an ever expanding world full of those alike and not, it's imperative that published works lead the way in engendering mutual understanding.  My only caution is to let the ideas speak for themselves, overworking them only reveals an insecurity in their veracity (which I'm sure the author doesn't have).  While I would have preferred more (any?) deconstruction, the novel is a wonderful homage to the source material of Shakespeare and Wilde.  It's not clear if Rosen plans to continue Violet's story, but I'd certainly be interested if he is.  If not, I'd be intrigued to see what he's capable of in a space unconstrained by Victorian virtue.

Among Thieves - Douglas Hulick

Among Thieves is the fifth book I've read this year that I put in the, "This was published because of Scott Lynch" category.  I'm not going to make a big deal about it.  One has nothing to do with the other beyond the fact that editors know they sell because they've sold something like it before.  Ironically, had Douglas Hulick's debut been published in 2006 the category might be named after him.

Drothe - Hulick's protagonist, narrator, and golden boy - is a nose.  In thieves' cant, that means he's an information gatherer.  Working for one of the nastiest crime bosses in Ildrecca, Drothe also dabbles in his fair share of criminal racketeering.  When an Imperial relic he's trafficking goes missing, he'll do just about anything to get it back.  In this case, anything includes brutal torture and manipulating everyone around him.

All that sounds pretty straight forward which does Among Thieves a great disservice.  Not only is Hulick's novel densely plotted (the above 'summary' is the tip of the iceberg), it contains one of the better first person voices in recent memory.  Starting the novel with a brutal torture of one of Drothe's associates, Hulick leads the reader to believe that his main character is morally bankrupt.  Drothe supports the point, thinking it's all quite distasteful, but nothing to lose sleep over.  Afterward he continues to make cutthroat decisions... until they aren't.  And yet, his thoughts don't always recognize the shift, leading me to believe that Drothe is not necessarily as dog-eat-dog as he tries to make himself believe.

While much of the book is medieval spy fiction, there are moments of all out swashbuckling. Hulick, an 17th century Italian rapier combat enthusiast, brings incredible voracity to his fight scenes.  They always conjure a clear sense of energy, but also a technical precision that screams close familiarity.  Unfortunately, Drothe is a pretty average swordsman so most of the fight scenes are him struggling to keep up.  I can only imagine the level of detail Hulick could drill down to inside the head of an adept duelist (Degan, anyone?).

That's an appropriate segue into an area that Among Thieves shines - characters.  For a first person narrative Hulick does a bang up job drawing his cast of ne'er-do-wells.  Degan, a professional mercenary, gets the most screen time as Drothe's protector and best friend.  From the street contacts, to crime bosses, to Imperial guards, Among Thieves is populated with characters that bleed off the page.  It's all too easy for a first person novel to end up with cardboard cutouts for ancillary characters, but in the moment Hulick had me believing their lives continued whether Drothe was there to listen, or not.

As for problem areas, there aren't a lot.  In fact, my only major complaint is that Hulick occasionally ruins his narration with exposition. Most of it takes place in the early going, but in choosing a first person style any sort of exposition sticks out like a sore thumb.  It reminds the reader that he's reading a book written by someone who isn't the narrator.  A certain discipline is required when there's a large amount of information to convey and it's always easier in the third person.

For minor complaints, I found the pace almost too fast.  I never had a chance to take in the scenery leaving me somewhat lukewarm about Hulick's setting.  His city, Ildrecca, isn't clear in my mind, nor are the political workings of the larger empire.  I kept wondering if a few establishing scenes early on before Drothe got pulled into the main plot would have improved the novel's general ambiance.

In a year of strong debuts, Among Thieves is surprisingly one of the best.  If I'm being honest, and, as my readers know (I hope), I always am, the premise is not only familiar, but somewhat tired.  I've read dozens of novel with with a crafty thief and tough sidekick swordsman.  As in all things well worn though, there is a place for someone to do it well and Hulick did that and more.  Where many novels of this type lean heavily on the grittiness of the story to communicate some measure of gravitas, Hulick manages to leverage the relationship between Drothe and Degan into a frank discussion on the nature of commitment.  The ability to interweave some subtext behind what is cosmetically an adventure romp was a compelling and welcome addition.

That, combined with a dynamic voice, and well drawn characters make Among Thieves one of the better debuts of 2011.  Douglas Hulick has added a new chapter to the thief subgenre and it stands out as the best thing to happen to it since Lynch's masterpiece.  I can't wait for the sequel and anything else he churns out in the years to come.

You can follow Douglas Hulick on Twitter or on his website.

The Winds of Khalakovo - Bradley Beaulieu

Earlier this week I criticized Brandon Sanderson's new novel Alloy of Law for being shallow.  Bradley Beaulieu's debut, The Winds of Khalakovo, is the polar opposite.  Where Sanderson wrote something light and breakneck, Beaulieu has offered a deep and deliberate novel.  It's also the closest thing to Russian literature I've come across in fantasy, including novels written by Russians.  Having read my fair share of Dostoevsky and Tolstoy, I wasn't sure that I needed that particular style in my genre reading.  It turns out that not only was I happy to revisit that somewhat masochistic style, it's something I want to see a lot more.

The story centers around Khalakovo, a mountainous archipelago of seven islands. Serviced by windships bearing goods and dignitaries, Khalakovo's eyrie stands at the trade crossroads of the Grand Duchy of Anuskaya.  The protagonist, Nikandar, Prince of Khalakovo (although not the heir), is set to marry the daughter of a rival Duchy.  Of course, he's not in love with her, instead he showers his affections on Rehada, an indigenous Aramahn whore.

Amid this tangled web of love, a conspiracy begins to brew with other Duchies vying for power, and a fringe Aramahn group known as Maharraht who would see the entire system upended.  To a modern reader these dynamics will be reminiscent of the United States involvement in the Middle East.  Impossible loves and a rejection of western ideas, I say?  How Russian, you might respond.

Winds is just that.  The world, characters, and plot lines all maintain a very Eastern European texture that call to mind the Middle East, Crimea, Poland, and yes, Russia.  So much so that Nikandar dances the preesyadka and wears a drooping mustache while the Aramahn wear layered robes and live a life of nomadic self-improvement.  Driving the point home are Russian words interspersed throughout the novel like da, nyet, and dosvedanya, a habit I admit to finding somewhat annoying (Ari Marmell's intelligent discussion on the subject).

Beautiful cover for the

sequel by Todd Lockwood

To anyone who's read some 'Golden Age' Russian literature, the themes in Winds will be familiar, especially suffering as a means of redemption.  Rehada, in particular, although not exclusively, is subjected to this device.  She also falls into the tradition outlined by Russian literary critic Viktor Shklovsky who wrote, "Russian literature has a bad tradition. [It's] devoted to the description of unsuccessful love affairs."  Where the suffering love affair exists on the surface of the narrative, the undercurrents of rebellion against western (new?) ideas are more subtle and probably more indicative of a Russian nascence.

Beaulieu's world casts the Duchies as an imperialist culture who've conquered the archipelagos and subjugated the nomadic Aramahn people (Tartars?).  Known as the Landed, the Duchies are at odds with the Maharraht who reject the way of life forced on them and would sooner see it all end.  It would be somewhat misleading to call the Landed western, but the sentiments are the same as in Russian lit.  The rejection of the new and outside, in favor of the old and insular.   In Crime and Punishment, Doystyevsky uses Raskolnikov and his tragedy to call for the return of Russianism by rediscovering religion and national pride.  So too does Beaulieu with the Maharraht, although his conclusions may differ from those literary forefathers.

Themes and symbolism are great, but the damn thing has to read well too, right?  And for the most part, Winds is just as successful in that regard.  Beaulieu draws convincing, layered characters that fight for themselves and their loved ones far more often than an ideal.  In short, they're real.  His prose is more than capable, and his dialogue has a poignancy that fits the thematic tones perfectly.

Unfortunately, there are times when Beaulieu lacks clarity in both his description of action sequences and his explanation of world mechanics.  Winds takes the (now) popular approach of worldbuilding by inference, most popularized by Steven Erikson's Malazan Book of the Fallen.  I'm a fan of the approach (generally), but oftentimes it forced to me flip back to see if I missed some detail.  This lack of surety is most often reflected in his magic systems (notice, the plural) that never seem to bridge the gap between cause and effect.

Likewise, many of the novel's action sequences take place on airships moving in three dimensions relative to one another and stationary objects beneath them.  The end result is usually confusion about who's where and what's going on.  Perhaps the best example of this is in the second chapter where I had to read a scene three times before grasping what was happening.  I was so frustrated by it that I put Winds down to read the aforementioned Alloy of Law.  Further compounding these moments of confusion is the novel's inconsistent pacing with peaks and valleys that likely contribute to its Russianness (come on, War and Peace is a slog).

In the moment, each of these flaws seems dooming.  On the whole, amid such dynamic characters and meaty themes they fade into the background, taking little away from the experience.  As a debut author Bradley Beaulieu is suffering growing pains in bringing new (old) literary traditions to genre fiction.  I've glossed over a lot of the intricate plotting in favor of discussing the bigger picture, but I can vouch that The Winds of Khalakovo is high fantasy full of magic, swashbuckling, and political intrigue.  I applaud what he's done here and can't wait to see what's next.

It should also be noted that Beaulieu's publisher, Night Shade Books, has made a concerted effort to bring new voices to the forefront.  I wonder how many other presses would take a chance on this novel.  Sure, it's epic fantasy, but it's also unfamiliar.  So for that, thumbs up to the Night Shade team.

The Straights of Galahesh, book two in The Lays of Anuskaya, is due out April of 2012.  You can find  Beaulieu on his website or on Twitter.

Dear Creature - Jonathan Case

I don't read a lot of graphic novels, not so much because I don't like them, but because I have no earthly idea how to pick them.  I mean just because I like the art doesn't mean the writing is any good, and I'm really not that much for art.  So when I won Tor's New York (Not at) Comic Con Giveaway I was excited to see several graphic novels included.  The first one I noticed in the bunch was Dear Creature and boy am I glad I did.

Drawn entirely in black and white, Jonathan Case's graphic novel tells the story of Grue - a sea mutant with a predilection for human flesh.  He's awkward, gangly, and carries three crabs around with him who act more like devils-on-his-shoulder than parasitic companions.  Surprisingly he also possesses a poet's heart.  Through pages of Shakespeare stuffed into soda bottles and cast into the sea, Grue has fallen in love.  Dear Creature is a love story of the oddest type between a monster and an agoraphobic woman.

Like every graphic novel I've read and loved (Watchmen being the standard bearer of course), the highlight is the writing.  Case is both hilarious, through his crusty crustaceans, and poignant, in Grue's wooing.  There is also a brilliance coming from Grue's dialogue which is written entirely in iambic pentameter.  For those without previous exposure to ol' Shakespeare's rhythmic writing style, Case went to the trouble of including a primer in the back that's laugh out loud funny and informative.

Art sample from Case's website.

The art itself has a very pulp quality that conveys some noir sensibilities in its use of light and shadow, but also a certain flair that's identifiable to me as Western.  Of course there's a mounted cop that has a thing for the local 'working girl', so I suppose the Western elements aren't all that inconspicuous.  My one complaint is in choosing the black and white palette.  While striking, some panels become difficult to follow especially in the under water scenes that lack the stark white contrast.

Nested within the larger arc, is a secondary story featuring the aforementioned cop and his 'working girl'.  While the response to Grue's love of his human soulmate is (perhaps) warranted given his history of violent crime and outwardly monstrous appearance, this secondary story demonstrates humanity's capacity for closed mindedness.  It also highlights an unwillingness to look beyond ourselves as the cop becomes persecutor and persecuted.

All told Dear Creature is wonderfully imagined.  The writing is crisp and quirky, complimenting the story, and its art, perfectly.  Although I'm a neophyte in the reading (and even more so in the reviewing) or graphic novels, I would strongly recommend this one to all fans of the medium.

Sword of Fire and Sea - Erin Hoffman

I have a sneaking suspicion that Sword of Fire and Sea is going to be one of the more polarizing novels of 2011 as a perfect example of form over substance.  Erin Hoffman's debut from Pyr has a beautiful voice, and a fully realized, textured world.  It has gryphons, pegasus, and elemental magic all of which evoke whimsy and a general sense of romance.  Ultimately though, the primary motive force of any novel is its story and there Hoffman falls flat, failing to adequately lay the foundation for events later in the novel.

Packaged as a travel narrative, Sword is told from the perspective of ship Captain Vidarian Rulorat, a highly successful merchant with family ties to the fire priestesses of Kara'zul. Vidarian must fulfill his family's obligation by transporting a young fire priestess named Ariadel to a water temple far to the south, through dangerous pirate-controlled territory. A perilous journey in the best of conditions, Vidarian and Ariadel find themselves at the intersection of the world's most volatile elements and an ancient, alien power between them.

Unlike most genre novels, Sword didn't keep me up late into the night despite an frenetic plot.  Hoffman's style is more geared toward reading a chapter at a time to absorb her lyrical imagery, letting it breathe like a fine wine.  I found myself pausing from time to time to really relish over a nice turn of phrase or particularly well put together sentence.  To speak metaphorically, reading Sword felt like looking at an M.C. Escher painting, the longer I stared at it the more I saw.  All of this makes for a rich and textured reading experience.  Paragraphs alone to do not a good novel make though, and often Hoffman fails to connect her reader to her characters or her plot.

Functionally a travelogue, Sword bounces Vidarian all over the map, first with Ariadel by his side, and then to rescue her, and then to their ultimate goal.  I was watching a tennis match with a gryphon, in place of a fuzzy green ball, being batted back and forth across the continent by some unseen, but thoroughly dominant, forehand.  That's me being flip, but the truth is the pace and suddenness of the travel rarely gave me the opportunity to be comfortable with the story.  Instead, I was left scrambling to understand what was happening and more importantly why.

Equally as frustrating were the occasional terms, or factions that Hoffman assumes the reader to have knowledge.  I don't mind the slow world building, dropping new ideas from time to time, and explaining them later (God's War being a great example of this), but never explaining them just leads to confusion.  One in particular that comes to mind was the use of the term, Quenched, in reference to a fire priestess's power.  Early in the novel I presumed this meant one thing, only to find out it meant something else, only to learn it didn't mean that either.  With the novel over, I still don't really know it means.  While I might hazard a guess, it was frustrating that at every point in the novel I thought it meant something different, leaving me scratching my head when characters did things I thought they could no longer do.

The point is Sword reads like a debut novel.  In a year I've been spoiled by brilliant debuts this one just doesn't stand out.  I'm going to compare Hoffman to another author, Sam Sykes, whose debut novel, Tome of the Undergates, I reviewed early this year.  In terms of substance and style there's absolutely no similarity.  Sykes writes a gritty, schlocky style that's as dark as it is hilarious.  Like Hoffman, Sykes was a new author trying to find his way.  While he had some stumbles, mostly related to plot and pacing, he has an incredibly strong voice that's his own.  I can absolutely say the same about Erin Hoffman.  There is something uniquely her in the prose and that's special.  While I may not have enjoyed Sword of Fire and Sea as a narrative, I very much look forward to the author's future growth as a writer.

Thankfully, it looks like Pyr is going to give me that chance as they recently announced the purchase of two more novels in The Chaos Knight series.  I'll be sure to check them out.  You can visit Erin Hoffman's website and follow her Twitter.

The Traitor's Daughter - Paula Brandon

Happy Halloween! I figure since it's Halloween I ought to review a novel with some kind of horror element. Well let's see, The Traitor's Daughter, "is a dark, rich feast, rife with plagues, kidnappings, political intrigues, bloody crimes, bloodier revenges, arcane upheavals, and the threat of zombies.” Zombies! Perfectly Halloween or so the writer of that blurb would have me think.  Unfortunately, my quest to review something horror was a complete failure.  While there is something akin to zombies in the novel, albeit not in a traditional sense, they manage to only garner 10-20 pages of 'screen' time. As much of a red herring as 'zombies' are, it's nothing compared to the outward appearance of Paula Brandon's debut novel which reflects almost nothing of what she actually wrote.

See, Traitor's Daughter just doesn't look like the kind of novel I would enjoy.  I try not to read reviews before I pick-up a novel, it's hard to articulate my thoughts clogged up by other people's, but I wasn't going to read Brandon's novel blind.  To allay my fears I sneaked a peak at the Goodreads reviews to get a feel before giving it a shot.  Quite a few of the reviews were lukewarm or negative in large part based on the incorrect assumption that Brandon's novel was historical fantasy romance - which was music to my ears.  Looking at the cover and the overt Jacqueline Carey blurb, I think those expectations were reasonable.  So much so that Amazon filed it under Romance.

At first glance, Traitor's Daughter looks like Gone with the Wind at best and Fabio on the Plantation (pretty sure I made that one up) at worse.  The long flowing dress, the articulated 'D', and  soft blend of a house emerging from a cloud with star pinpricks all over, screams: this is a book for CHICKS!  Unfortunately the back cover (below) isn't much better:

On the Veiled Isles, ominous signs are apparent to those with the talent to read them. The polarity of magic is wavering at its source, heralding a vast upheaval poised to alter the very balance of nature. Blissfully unaware of the cataclysmic events to come, Jianna Belandor, the beautiful, privileged daughter of a powerful Faerlonnish overlord, has only one concern: the journey to meet her prospective husband. But revolution is stirring as her own conquered people rise up against their oppressors, and Jianna is kidnapped and held captive at a rebel stronghold, insurance against her father’s crimes. 

The resistance movement opens Jianna’s eyes―and her heart. Despite her belief in her father’s innocence, she is fascinated by the bold and charming nomadic physician and rebel sympathizer, Falaste Rione—who offers Jianna her only sanctuary in a cold and calculating web of intrigue. As plague and chaos grip the land, Jianna is pushed to the limits of her courage and resourcefulness, while virulent enemies discover that alliance is their only hope to save the human race.

So, other than the first sentence and the last clause of the last sentence, Traitor's Daughter sounds like a romance story between the kidnapped Jianna and the healer Rione.  It's not.  Brandon debut is high fantasy with a sprawling plot, political machinations, complex systems of magic, all of which manifest themselves in themes that both men and women will very much enjoy.  To someone looking for romance they're going to be sorely disappointed.

That's not to say there isn't a love story - there is sort of - but it's far more in-line with what a typical fantasy reader would expect in a non-Joe Abercrombie novel.  All told, it probably occupies a quarter of the novel leaving the rest of the time for Brandon to flesh out Magnifico Aureste Belandor, Jianna's father.  The fact his name isn't even mentioned in the novel's blurb boggles me.  Most of the novel is spent on his ongoing political struggle to rescue his daughter without destroying his tenuous position as a Faerlonnish lord ruled by the Taerleezi conquerors.

Maybe, Spectra and

Amazon mixed books up?

The society of the Veiled Isles is one akin to Apartheid.  An ethnic minority (Taerleezi) rules by way of conquest, oppressing the indigenous population (Faerlonne) and elevating those few willing to work for them.  Those elevated have become a lightening rod to their oppressed brethren diverting much of the unexpressed anger and resentment from the true oppressors.  Aureste, one of these 'betrayers' has spent his life securing his house's place under the Taerleezi government.  He has hidden his activities from his daughter, sheltered her, and now she'll pay for his crimes.  Brandon examines the lengths to which a father will go to protect his child as well as the sins a child's unconditional love can ignore.

A distinct lack of moral certitude permeates Traitor's Daughter.  Aureste and his daughter's captors both feel wronged and view there causes as right and just.  To them the ends always justify the means.  Jianna and Rione, representing the next generation, become Brandon's moral center, setup to become the reformer of their predecessors whom are stuck in the memory of past wrongs and outdated world views.  It all works spectacularly well creating an emotional investment not just in the characters, but in the political and familial structures Brandon puts in place.

If there's one black mark, aside from its marketing, it's that much of Traitor's Daughter feels like a prologue to a larger arc.  The novel is framed by chapters from Grix Orlazzu, an arcane practitioner who's clearly pegged to the larger story line of the world's wavering magic.  His chapters demonstrate a state of technological advancement that is far ahead of that present in the rest of the world.  Jianna and Aureste's narrative only tangentially touch on this framing, leaving me to wonder how everything is connected, a fact that's a little frustrating having finished a third of trilogy.  Given that the series is already completed and on an accelerated release timetable, I'm willing to give Brandon a pass despite my strong preference for every novel to have a beginning, middle, and end.

Now this I'd like to read!

None of this in Traitor's

Daughter.

This is a long review that does a bit of a disservice to Brandon's novel.  As a novel, I definitely recommend it.  It's unquestionably one of the better fantasy debuts this year and the series holds a lot of promise.  I compare it favorably to Daniel Abraham's Long Price Quartet (not quite that good) for its audacity to write a fantasy series that focuses on politics instead of war without relying on the crutch of romance and sex.  Fans of epic fantasy that enjoy a slow build, ambitious world building, and political intrigue will absolutely eat it up.

In terms of marketing, I have to give it a big F.  It's not romance, or horror (zombies, ha!), or steampunk, or science fiction, or pure fantasy - it's a mix of all them making Traitor's Daughter a genre novel, but one that's hard to pigeonhole in a business that demands the opposite.  There's a possibility the next two installments are a lot more romance that the first.  But somehow the skeptic in me thinks that branding the novel as romance was a conscious choice and I find it a bit intellectually dishonest.

Long story short: buy the book, read it, and ignore the cover and the reviews that have a lot more to do with a poorly conceived presentation than any failing of Paula Brandon's.  The sequel, The Ruined City, is due out in early 2012 with the third installment to follow before year's end.  I look forward to spending a lot more time in the Veiled Isles.

Miserere: An Autumn Tale - Teresa Frohock

Religion is a touchy subject matter, isn't it? Focusing on subjects of faith and belief can easily become unhinged. Preaching or flippancy are equally likely and this is especially true when the a novel is told from only one sect's point of view (in this case, Christian). I've been caught unawares by 'Christian fiction' masquerading as fantasy a time or two and I pretty well irks me every time, although erotica masquerading as Urban Fantasy is worse. It's not that I'm trying to avoid all things Christian, I'm just saying I want to know what I'm getting into beforehand. Thus I approached Miserere, Teresa Frohock's debut novel, with some trepidation.

I shouldn't have worried.  Miserere while grounded in Christian myths isn't really about religion.  Frohock is just more overt in her use of forms and traditions than the average fantasy novel.  Go pick up any epic fantasy and there are sure to be dozens of ideas pulled from the Bible.  The very notion of the prophesied savior is about as close to a Jesus Christ parallel as it gets.  Instead of covering up her use of religious myths by changing the names and places Frohock just goes with it, grounding her story and world in a familiar form that is instantly recognizable even to antireligionists (which is actually a real term, who knew?).

In a city ruled by Hell's vicars, exiled exorcist Lucian Negru has been crippled and imprisoned by his sister, Catarina.  Sixteen years ago, he deserted his lover in Hell to save Catarina's soul.  Instead of salvation, she wants Lucian to help her fulfill a dark covenant with the Fallen Angels by opening the Gates of Hell into Woerld, Heaven's first line of defense in the war for Earth's souls.  Knowing the evil in what she asks, Lucian flees, lamed but not broken, to the last place he thought he would ever go back to - the Citidal, home of God's chosen warriors.  Rachael, the lover he spurned, will judge him, holding his life in her hands.

War between Heaven and Hell, angels and demons, with mortals caught in between makes Miserere something like a sequel to John Milton's Paradise Lost/Paradise Regained written with modern understanding of character and plot.  While the novel itself is a fairly tight story of redemption for Lucian and salvation for Rachael, there is a larger arc at play that hints at some final conflict between the Fallen and God's Kingdom.  Very traditional in narrative voice and structure, Frohock utilizes several points of view from the limited third person.  It's briskly paced and never lets up the tension.  The bad guys turn stomachs and the good guys are all that holy warriors should be albeit with a surfeit of chinks in their armor.

All of that sounds pretty run-of-the-mill of the mill now that I actually write it and that's wrong because Miserere is anything but run-of-the-mill.  A tight plot, an interesting world, and something much like the Dan Brown knack for the religious 'what if', makes Miserere an absolute pleasure to read.  From the moment Frohock revealed her world as one grounded in our own, she captured me, driving forward with a desire to fit all the pieces together.  How does Woerld work? What purpose does it serve? How do people get there?  She doesn't answer all the questions, thankfully leaving many unanswered even as the novel came to an end.

I say thankfully because any exposition would have only served to drag down the carefully cultivated pace.  Miserere is a first installment and I appreciate Frohock's patience - show me now, tell me later.  This is a mantra becoming more and more prevalent in fantasy especially among this year's crop of debut authors, perhaps most notably those coming out of Night Shades New Voices Program.  I've read 8 of them (out of 15) so far and all seem to have made a commitment to telling a story first, a fact I think 'big fat fantasy' forgot somewhere in the early 90's.  At times it can make me page flip to figure out whether or not I missed some explanation, but when choosing between pace and story or didactics and world building I'm going to choose the former every time (as long as the latter is sufficient).

All that amounts to Miserere being a very, very good novel, but I feel compelled to hold back from calling it a great one.  And the reason is quite simple - Frohock never asks why.  As her characters undergo trials and tribulations not one, even the most tortured, asks: why is God putting me through this?  Why should I serve a God who would steal me from my home, kill my brother, and pit me against the hordes of Hell?  My one true love betrayed me and sent me to Hell, why shouldn't I turn my back on all that's holy?  None of these kinds of questions are asked, or answered, and I think the novel is worse off for it.

Still, I absolutely devoured it.  Finished in two nights of reading, Miserere is a tremendously successful fantasy novel.  Frohock's characters are interesting and fleshed out, with decades of history behind them.  She puts them in a setting that is as strange as it is familiar striking a beautiful balance between the fantastic and the mundane.  I don't hesitate to call it one of the best debuts I've read this year (although that list is getting long) and I highly recommend it regardless of genre predilections.

The next installment, Dolorosa: A Winter's Dream, is supposedly due out next year and will pick up right where Miserere left off.  However, it appears the author is currently working on The Garden, an unrelated novel set in 1348 on the Iberian Peninsula.  In either case, I'm eagerly looking forward to Teresa Frohock's future work.

The Quantum Thief - Hannu Rajaniemi

If The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes had a baby with The Lies of Locke Lamora and then gave it up for adoption to Neuromancer you would have a pretty good simulacrum for The Quantum Thief by Hannu Rajaniemi. The book is at its heart a whodunit, or more specifically which whodunit. After finishing the book I'm not sure who did it. But I think that's the point.

The novel begins when a winged woman who talks to god rescues an amnesiac thief named Jean Le Flambeur at the request of her deity and brings him to Mars to remember. Juxtaposing this perspective is the antagonist, Isidore Beautrelet, a detective akin to Sherlock himself who in solving the murder of a chocolatier finds himself set against le Flambeur himself. Told at a breakneck pace the story follows our thief and his winged caretaker as he infiltrates Martian society to rediscover who he was and who he wants to be.

Quantum Thief takes place primarily on a Mars colonized with mobile cities. Technology has evolved to the point the line between artificial intelligence and human intelligence has blurred and an individual's consciousness is no longer singular. Rajaniemi eschews information dumps, and as a result it's easily 200 pages before you have any real understanding of the world his character inhabit. Ideas and words like exomemory, gogols, and gevoluts are pretty abstract terms that he forces the reader to define only through context.

I would be lying if i said such a complex setting did not obscure the plot. Oftentimes concepts that are barely understood become important plot devices. Some might find this off putting, and at times it can be. In that way it compares to the Malazan Book of the Fallen dectet by Steven Erikson. Rajaniemi is writing an intelligent novel for intelligent readers. He is not going to hold the reader's hand, rather he expects that being dropped into the middle of ocean without a lifeboat is perfectly doable. By the novel's conclusion I think he's right.

Not taking the time to educate the reader Rajaniemi frees himself to focus on the story and the prose. The result is a beautifully written book with a compelling plot and interesting characters. More impressively, for a first novel it's extremely tight with very little wasted language. The story is mostly self contained, but ultimately it's just a snapshot in time of a larger story revealed in the epilogue.

In all, The Quantum Thief is one of the better debut novels I've read. Its pacing and crime fiction flavor could lend it appeal to cross genre readers. I look forward to Rajaniemi's subsequent novels.