The Riyria Revelations - Michael J. Sullivan

Back in 2008 I came across Michael J. Sullivan's self published novel, The Crown Conspiracy, the first installment in The Riyria Revelations.  Relying solely on Amazon reviews back then, I picked it up (and the following 3 novels).  This was fantasy that Gary Gygax might have written -- sword and sorcery, elves and dwarfs, good guys and bad guys.  It was also a huge success, a poster child for the self-publishing movement.  Then Orbit came along, making Sullivan an offer to go the traditional publishing route.  He accepted, delaying Percepliquis, the final volume in the series, for nearly a year as Orbit edited and repackaged the six book series as three omnibus editions (Theft of Swords, Rise of Empire, Heir of Novron.  In January, the final omnibus was finally released to great excitement among fans of the series.

Riyria begins and ends with Royce and Hadrian, Sullivan's take on the Fafhrd and Grey Mouse paradigm. Royce is a small thief of exceptional skill, with a dark past and darker disposition. Hadrian is his best and only friend, a master swordsman with a heart of gold.  The first omnibus begins with the intrepid duo on their way to steal a set of incriminating documents from a nobleman.  Easily accomplished, the pair are soon back in their tavern of choice, interviewing for a new job to infiltrate the King of Melanger's castle.

What starts as a simple snatch and go, winds up with them framed for the death of the King and imprisoned.  Now at the center of national politics, Royce and Hadrian escape the noose with help from Princess Arista, whose only request is that they take her brother, the new king, with them.  To protect his life and clear their name, the pair will have to confront the greatest wizard who ever lived and a power hungry church bent on domination.

If that sounds like build-a-fantasy-plot-version-1a, it's by design.  Sullivan starts the series on familiar ground, couching things in a way that will be instantly recognizable to anyone who's cracked open a fantasy book.  Likewise, for a younger first time reader of the genre, it's a natural entry point.  It's an action adventure with none of the excessive world building or intricate plots that often deter the uninitiated.  Sullivan has long touted that the series was written as one piece simultaneously, with each book building on the preceding one in terms of complexity.  I can largely confirm it with the understanding that the vast majority of that stems from improved plotting and better drawn characters, not a deeper subtext.

Those familiar with my reviews know that I tend to get into some detail about a book's thematics, guessing at the author's intent.  In the case of Sullivan's series, that's more difficult.  His theme is adventure, and his undertones escapism.  Sure, there's some small offerings to racism and classism, and tolerance and human relationships, but by and large there's a willful denial of commentary.  That will leave some readers cold, but taken as a whole Riyria is an enjoyable distraction with moments that reach for something beyond.

Initially, I wrote another 1500 words to review this series, spending time on each book and providing the highs and lows.  Most of that ended up as rambling incoherence.  Trying to encapsulate six books and some 2,000 pages into a single review is no easy task. I started looking around at all the reviews written about the series (they are legion) and realized I agree with almost all of them -- even the terribly negative ones. In fact, reading this review, it might be guessed that I didn't enjoy the series all that much. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Riyria is polarizing and I don't think it has very much to do with its quality, or lack there of.  There are stylistic and artistic speed bumps that will turn people off and on to varying degrees.  Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that Riyria may not be a series than can be objectively described as good or bad.  For those weaned on fantasy of the 1980's, Sullivan's work can be transportamagatative (thanks Mark Lawrence) transportive and it certainly was for me despite any of the perfectly legitimate niggles that can be levied against it.

In the interest of providing a quick guide to who might enjoy the series, I put together the following:

These are the facts:

• the prose is utilitarian
• the world is not that unique
• the plot is straightforward in the early going, eyebrow cocking at times, and rather complex later
• the characters are wooden to start, requiring some patience, but develop beautifully as things move along
• the world building is extensive, and requires some awkward info dumping
• the entire series is a fucking blast to read

The conclusion I reached is that The Riyria Revelations is an if-then series.  If you like ____, then you'll like these books.  If you don't, then you won't.  Let's try it.

Things that will make you not like Riyria:

If you don't like anachronisms and world-building that doesn't take into account urban geography and social engineering, then you may not like Riyria.

If you don't like elves and dwarfs, finding them derivative and out dated, then you may not like Riyria.

If you don't like puppies and potpourri, you may not like Riyria. (I jest.)

If you like your fantasy to make you think for days about existential meaning, you won't like Riyria... at all.

If the use of archaic syntax in an inaccurate and inconsistent manner for a few pages bothers you, then you won't like Riyria.

If you like your magic system to have hard rules and logic, then you won't like Riyria. 

If you like the last book to be the best book, then you may not like Riyria¹.

Things that will make you like Riyria:

If you liked The Dragonlance Chronicles by Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman, but find on re-read that they are too young adult, then you'll like Riyria². 

If you like a series that becomes generally more advanced, more adult, and more complex with each volume, then you'll really like Riyria.  

If you like thiefing, and sword fighting, and learning magic, and political intrigue, and villains who are justified in their own sick way, then you'll really like Riyria. 

If you like a good story, and a knock for story telling, then you'll really like Riyria. 

If you like character above all else, you'll like Riyria.  

and finally...

In the words of Southwest Airlines, wanna get away?  Then read Riyria, you'll like it.  I'm also happy to answer any questions anyone might have about the series, and whether it's for them.


^1: I thought this warranted further explanation. Percepliquis, the final book in the series, concludes all the story lines in a neat bow.  It's well done, and answers every question the reader could possibly have about why things happened, how they happened, and who did them.  Unfortunately, for me, the most climactic moment in the series takes place in Wintertide, the penultimate novel.  I was left unworried for any of the characters in the final volume until a big reveal at the very end.  It's not a bad novel, but Wintertide eclipses it in every way -- take that for what it's worth.


^2: What I mean by that is while Riyria is straightforward and light, it is far more detailed and comprehensively written than some of the 80's teenage fantasy. Sullivan fleshes out his characters and takes his time building things to a natural conclusion.

The Goblin Corps - Ari Marmell

Ari Marmell's most recent novel from Pyr (at least for a few more weeks) is predicated on the notion of the 'bad guys' as heroes.  This is not Joe Abercrombie's morally gray characters, or Stephan R. Donaldson's antihero.  Instead, Marmell takes the stereotypical villains of D&D fantasy -- liches, demons, orcs, goblins, trolls, and ogres -- and makes them the heroes in a war against the righteous.  The Goblin Corps ends up as a hilarious and subversive novel that struggles a bit to engage the reader beyond the absurd fun of well drawn set pieces.

Morthul, the dreaded Charnel King, has failed.  Centuries of plotting from the heart of the Iron Keep was fiuked at the last by the bumbling efforts of a laughable band of heroes, led by the half-elven wizard Ananias DuMark.  When news reaches Morthul that the Allied Kingdoms are assembling a counterattacking army unlike any seen before, he sets a plan in motion to secure his future.  The lynchpin to that plan is a Demon Squad -- the best and "brightest" that Morthul's own army has to offer.  Consisting of a few fighters, a mage, a rogue or two, and a shapeshifter, the Demon Squad exhibits all the classic characteristics of the ideal D&D party.

Structurally, the novel reflects this same homage to the D&D model.  Goblin Corps is divided into a dozen long to very long chapters, each of which represents what amounts to a new adventure for the party.  These adventures are comparable to a night of D&D and the novel at large consists of an entire campaign.  In that regard, Marmell's novel is best read a chapter at a time as each offers some resolution and a lead-in to the next.  For someone who tends to read 200 pages in a sitting, I found it to be somewhat labor intensive as there's not a natural story arc with tension building to a grand conclusion.

Instead the focus is on the characters and the clever dialogue that goes between them.  If this is sounding a little bit like my review of Sam Sykes's debut novel Tome of the Undergates, I'm not surprised, because the two novels are very similar in their tone.  Marmell is having fun with Goblin Corps and it's transferred to his reader in smirks, snickers, and outright laughter as the bumbling Demon Squad goes about its nefarious business.  Occasionally, the novel bogs down in the running gag, sacrificing both pace and storytelling to accomplish the punchline.  Taken in the right mood and frame of mind, these gaffs are ignorable, and the black, slapstick, and pun laden humor shines.

My major complaint about the novel, beyond the minor niggles mentioned thus far, is that Goblin Corps is just too long.  Clocking in around 550 pages, with chapters as long as 50 pages, the novel just doesn't have enough under the hood to sustain itself.  By the time I got to the main story arc, which isn't for several hundred pages, I found myself counting chapters to the end.  Don't get me wrong, I still enjoyed almost all of it, but I would be recommending it with much higher praise if Marmell had tightened things up a bit.  I don't see a reason why a few of the "episodes" couldn't have been pruned, or some of the setup chapters shortened, to accomplish a better paced novel.

As far as comedic novels go, Goblin Corps is one of the better ones I've read in recent years.  It has a great deal of charm, and even the blackest member of the Demon Squad finds a special place in the reader's heart by the time that final page is turned.  This is the first novel I've read from Marmell, but it certainly won't be last.  I've got a copy of The Conqueror's Shadow in my office, and I'm looking forward to acquiring his newest novel from Pyr, Thief's Convenant.

The final word on Goblin Corps?  It's the perfect follow up to something like Malazan Book of the Fallen's (Erikson) grim outlook or Little, Big's (Crowley) dense undertones.

Seven Princes - John Fultz

Around these parts I commit myself to finishing everything I start.  Why, you ask?  Because I think it's important for me to help my reader make decisions about what they should buy and what they should avoid.  If I only read things that I enjoy, how will I ever fulfill the second half of that commitment?  I'm also loathe to spend 800 words eviscerating someone's baby.  Thus, Cheryl was born.  Cheryl is my imaginary personal assistent who helps me "review" novels I really did not like.  Instead of just doggedly attacking a novel's failures, I try to have some fun with it and get some laughs.  Hopefully it's taken the way I intend it.

What follows is the conversation I had with some figures of legend about John Fultz's debut novel, Seven Princes.  It's a novel I really wanted to like, but didn't.  Cheryl urged me hold the post until after Christmas, I agreed.  This is my third installment of posts featuring Cheryl.  If you enjoy this one, I suggest finding the Cheryl tag on the right sidebar for the others.

                             

Best fake personal assistant that

fake money can fake buy.

Justin: *buzz* Cheryl, what's on today's agenda?

Cheryl: It's Christmas, Mr. Landon.

Justin: Right.  So it is.

Cheryl: You're doing it again, aren't you?

Justin: Huh?  What do you mean -- "it"?

Cheryl: You're going to make fun of someone's book.

Justin: I'm a reviewer Cheryl.  My intellectual integrity demands that I represent things as I see them!

Cheryl: It's Christmas, Mr. Landon!  Christmas!  Do you want your little blogger friends to call you the Grinch?  They will.  In fact, I heard Larry from OF Blog of the Fallen call you an abecedarian!

Justin: A what?

Cheryl: I had to look it up.  That guy's a real windbag.

Justin: Oh who cares what he thinks.  I need to get this review for Seven Princes written.

Cheryl: Oh poor John Fultz... I really should send him a fruit basket or something....

Justin: *hanging up on Cheryl* John Fultz's Seven Princes is an attempt to write a modern myth in the spirit of....

*buzz*

Justin: Jesus Chri... er... Yes, Cheryl?

Cheryl: Mr. Landon, Gilgamesh is on the line.

Justin: I'm sorry, did you say Gilgamesh?  Like the ancient hero of Mesopatamia who's been dead for 4,000 years?

Cheryl: How am I supposed to know?  He just said Gilgamesh.  He said you'd know what it's about.

Justin:  Better put him through...

Cheryl: Mr. Gilgamesh, I have Mr. Landon on the line.

Justin: Uh, Merry Christmas?

Gilgamesh and Enkidu kill some baddies

Gilgamesh: *grunt* Me English not so good.  Have Beowulf here, too.

Beowulf: Greetings peasant.

Justin: I'm actually a professional, King of the Geats.  Not som...

Gilgamesh: I not care.  We talk about book.

Justin: Uh, Seven Princes?

Beowulf: My grunting compatriot and I have heard that someone has tried to write a modern novel in the style of the ancient epic.

Justin: You could say that.

Beowulf: I did say that.

Justin: It's an expression.

Gilgamesh: Argh! Enough wordplay. Enkidu smart, but no here.  Gilgamesh smash.

Beowulf: Calm yourself my ancient friend.  We called yon' Professional to ensure our legacies as kings of the ancient epic are intact!

Justin: Right.  Well, as I said, Fultz certainly tried to interpret the ancient epic into a modern story.  All of his characters are infallible.  Super-strong, full of magic, seemingly invulnerable, and entirely unchangeable.  Incredibly convenient things happen time and again in a contrived manner that benefits these heroes...

Gilgamesh: What wrong with that?

Beowulf: Seems like my kind of tale, yon' Professional.

Justin: Hmm, I suppose it would.  Fultz never pays any attention to non-heroes because, well, just about everyone in the novel is a full blown hero.  Additionally, the consequences of their actions on the wider world are ignored.

Beowulf: Stories make legends!  My deeds are known throughout the centuries!  Why should anyone care about the man who cleans my mail?!

Justin: Yes, right.  That's the thing... modern readers are looking for deeper, more intimate, stories.

Gilgamesh: Ah, deeper and intimate... Gilgamesh see.  Like when Enkidu and me turn off the lights...

Justin: Oh good lord, no... bad Gilgamesh, bad!

Beowulf: I must agree with yon' Professional, friend Gilgamesh.  For the nonce, please refrain from further mentions of lights.

Justin: What I meant is that telling a story about supermen running around bashing things without any conception for cause and effect or character building just isn't something that I want to read these days.  The only reason your epics hold a place in the pantheon is because of what they tell us about the past.  Fultz's epic of a made up world with uninteresting made up characters doesn't tell us anything about the past, and because it's a shallow story about killing monsters it doesn't really tell us anything about anything.

Gilgamesh: Beowulf, did puny 'modern reader' call Gilgamesh story bad?

Beowulf: .... yon' Professional begins to resemble Grendel, methinks.

Justin: Uh.. ahem.. c'mon guys... what I meant was Fultz's novel is no threat to the stories of old.  While his sentences are well formed and he describes all the action superbly, he lacks the same gravitas of your epics which occupy a vital place in cultural history.  Furthermore, because the novel lacks any modern sensibilities when it comes to character or plot it falls flat.  Maybe this would be a big hit in the 80's, when fantasy was still nascent, but today?  I say resoundingly.... meh.

Gilgamesh: That better. *crashing noises*

This movie sucked. Don't

tell Beowulf!

Justin: Uh, did you just drop a rock?  You know we're on the phone right?  You can't actually hit me with a rock.

Gilgamesh: Heh, Beowulf... this guy no understand metaphysics, do he?

Justin: *grumble* Everyone's a critic.

Beowulf: Good bye, yon' Professional.  We'll be in touch if there are more threats to our legacy.

Gilgamesh: *grunt* Now, where Enkidu and tent?

Empire State - Adam Christopher

One of the most highly anticipated titles of early 2012, Adam Christopher's Empire State has been billed as superhero noir.  Angry Robot, recognizing the broad appeal of such a pastiche, has marketed the novel along with their WorldBuilder project.  WorldBuilder invites readers to create their own works based in the world of Empire State, which Angry Robot may publish (if they get anything good).  That's neither here nor there, but I thought it worth mentioning.  As a novel, Christopher's debut is wildly entertaining in a tradition Angry Robot fans have come to expect.

Set in New York City during prohibition, Empire State starts with a street tough named Rex witnessing the final battle of the superhero Skyguard and his nemesis the Science Pirate.  Make note of this, because it's the last real super-superhero action you're going to get (mostly).  The story quickly jumps out of New York and into the Empire State (don't worry, you'll be back) -- a parallel-universe, where prohibition continues unfettered and a never ending war with an unknown enemy keeps the populace in constant fear.

The narrative centers around a private dick named Rad Bradley, a divorcee who at 40 years old can only remember the last dozen years or so.  Beautiful women and newspaper reporters soon get him embroiled in a murder mystery that crosses space, time, and dimension.  Sound a little complicated? It is and it isn't.  At its core, Empire State is a standard mystery novel couched in the noir tradition. Rad is a straight forward down on his luck, hard-boiled P.I. working his way through a murder and the conspiracy behind it.

So, that's what the novel is about? Not really.  Near as I can tell, it's really about social inequality.   Existing as a poor copy of New York, down to the people themselves, the Empire State is an isolated and oppressed pocket of humanity.  At its edges, reality blurs, and across the Hudson River exists the Enemy, a nebulous entity of government machinated fear.  The conceit exists on two levels, both within Empire State and in New York.  Internally the authoritarian government rations its populace living large at the top, while those below struggle to subsist.  Externally, those without would sooner see it forgotten or destroyed all together because the implications of Empire State call into question self-realizing notions of identity and existence (draw what parallels you like from real life).

Alright, I might be pushing it a bit with that breakdown, but it's certainly there, whether the author intended it or not.  As for the prose and tone of the novel, Christopher does a bang-up job of conveying the State's bleakness.  The lament of lost memory and the hopelessness of constant war hangs over everything.  It's tangible and permeates all of his characters most especially Rad and heretofore unmentioned trapped explorer, Captain Carson.  Christopher channels a certain dark humor as well that kept me smirking in the face of the unrelenting gloom.

On the downside, the novel does struggle at times with clarity (here's where things get complicated), mostly in breaking down how and why Empire State exists.  Christopher would probably have benefited greatly from an astrophysics degree, and the whole setup reminded me not a little of Mark Hodder's Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack in that the novel itself isn't science fiction, but the device that makes it possible is.  How it all ties together with the plot makes for an obscure ending that doesn't jump the shark as much as it detours around it.  All that adds up to an ending that relegates Empire State to great noir instead of a great novel.

Utlimately, Christopher does a lot more right than he does wrong in his debut.   It seems that Lee Harris and the Angry Robot team have a clear editorial direction in publishing these pastiche novels that don't fit neatly into any sub-genre -- a trend that looks to continue well into 2012 with Empire State at the fore.  I don't put it in the same class as Lauren Beukes's Zoo City, but Adam Christopher is another great new voice in the genre.   It'll be interesting to see where he goes next.

Faith by John Love

Heard of this one?  Probably not.  It's been pretty under the radar for book due out in less than three weeks.  Seriously, go Google it.  Now try the author's name.  What'd you come up with?  Not much, I bet.  All I could find was an erudite i09 piece and the corresponding Amazon.com and Nightshadebooks.com pages.  The Goodreads.com page doesn't even have cover art for crying out loud.  All of that goes to say, more people need to be talking about Faith.  Jove Love's debut is tremendous science fiction that blends literary traditions with space opera and all the various subgenres therein.

The basic premise is that 300 years ago an unidentified ship visited the Sakhran Empire and left it devastated.  One Sakhran recognized the ship for what She was and wrote the Book of Srahr.  When they read it, the Sakhran's turned away from each other, sending their Empire into a slow but irreversible decline.  They called Her, Faith.  Now She's back, threatening the human Commonwealth and the only thing standing in Her way is the Charles Manson.

Aegrescit medendo. A latin medical phrase that means, 'The cure is worse than the disease,' is appropriate here.  The Charles Manson isn't the Enterprise.  It's an Outsider, one of the Commonwealth's ultimate warships, crewed by people of unusual ability -- sociopaths whose only option is to serve or die.

I mentioned the Enterprise because the main plot is somewhat reminiscent of the Star Trek model.  Deep space encounters, prolonged stand-offs, failed diplomacy, synthesizing the unknown, and eventual escalation of force are all eminently present in Faith.  The bridge of the Charles Manson, where the vast majority of the novel takes place, has a captain, a first officer, an engineering officer, a pilot, a weapons officer, and all the other parts normally associated with a Federation Starship.  Of course, Captain Picard wasn't a sexual deviant (notice I didn't say Kirk!) and Commander Riker wasn't an alien with claws for hands.

In many ways Faith is a satire of the model Gene Roddenberry exemplified in his iconic series.  To boldly go where no man has gone before was the mantra of the Enterprise, a ship that was the Federation's representative to all sentient life throughout the galaxy.  The Charles Manson is the ship the Federation would send in when a Romulan Warbird took a dump on the Enterprise.  It's the ship their embarrassed to have, unwelcome in every port, but tolerated for the service only they can offer.  Love gets into the muck with each of his deviants, connecting them one by one to the reader, never redeemed but always compelling.

Moby Dick starring Captain

Jean-Luc Picard. Freaky.

Not just a delinquent Star Trek novel, Faith is also a psychological journey akin to that of Captain Ahab in Moby Dick.  On the Charles Manson, Aaron Foord is Ahab, an unrelenting, obsessive, and meticulous task master who drives himself and his crew to the limits to defeat Faith.  And Faith, an enigmatic and worthy opponent who Foord both loathes and adores, is the white whale.  To someone whose read Melville's classic, many of the concepts that the whale represents are likewise present here.  By the novels conclusion Love has melded the space opera with the literary, providing a resolution to the conflict while initiating a conversation with his reader about metaphysical concepts at home in Plato's Cave.

If the novel has a weak point, and I'm not sure it does, it's that some of the early chapters -- incredibly well done in their own right -- seem unrelated to the main narrative.  This phenomenon leads to somewhat rhetorical beginning that doesn't engage at the same level as the time spent on the Charles Manson bridge.  There are also moments where Love delves into some of the more scientific details or finds himself caught in a logical loop.  For a novel that ends with more questions than answers, the fact that these explanations. both scientific and subjective, were allowed to slow down a brisk novel seemed a strange choice.

Given that it's the first 2012 novel I've reviewed, I'm hesitant to be as glowing as I'd like to be about Faith.  How can I call it one of the best debuts of the year?  I don't suppose I can.  I'll have to settle for this: John Love's debut is on par with Dan Simmons's Hyperion in its quest to pose questions and attempt to answer them.  It may not measure up to Simmons's classic space opera in terms of pure storytelling, but I have little doubt that the currents of the novel will ebb and flow in mind for years to come.  Not bad for a debut no-one's talking about.

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.

Alloy of Law - Brandon Sanderson

I love Brandon Sanderson.  I've read everything he's written for the adult market, from his first novel Elantris to his printing press busting The Way of Kings.  His finest work to date is the Mistborn trilogy which contains one of the best beginnings and endings ever done in fantasy. So, it is with great remorse that I must say his most recent Mistborn universe release, The Alloy of Law, isn't very good, or rather it's not nearly as good as everything else Sanderson has written.

Set some 300 years (about?) after the events of The Hero of Ages, Waxillum is a lawkeeper from the Roughs who happens to be a member of one of the richest families in Elendel.  When his Uncle dies in an accident, Wax is called home to administer the family fortune (or what's left of it).  Of course some trouble has followed him from the Roughs and he'll have to stop it with the help of his snarky partner, Wayne.  Yes, you read that right - Wax and Wayne.  If this paragraph sounds a bit lighthearted, then I nailed it.  Much like in Warbreaker, Sanderson is testing his limits in humor and levity to varying degrees of success

The novel starts with a prologue featuring Wax in the Roughs, six-shooter in hand.  The tone in these opening scenes conjures up rolling tumbleweeds and Danny Glover saying, "I'm too old for this shit," Assuming Sanderson would allow Danny Glover to say shit (he wouldn't).  While most of the rest of the novel feels more Victorian than Wild West, the plot items are recognizably Western.  Train robberies, good guys and bad guys, a protagonist with a personal code of honor, all conjure up the whistling theme of Ennio Morricone's The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

That said, thematically Alloy of Law isn't a Western. The Western, as a genre, is about 'civilizing' the wilds, whether that's the natural element or the people that live there is inconsequential.  None of that is present.  Additionally, the Western world is organized around codes of honor and personal justice - not abstract law.  Some of that is there, but only through Wax, and to a lesser degree Wayne, whom represent the ideals of the Roughs.  For those in Elendel, where the entire narrative is housed, the social order is not only rigorous, it's set down and fundamentally abstract.

That sounds a bit like I'm being negative because Sanderson didn't deliver a Western.  Not the case.  I'm being negative because he didn't deliver substance.  Alloy of Law is shallow.  It has moments of entertainment - action packed sequences and witty back and forth.  Of course, Sanderson excels with his world building and magic system concepts and applications.  He shows how Scadrial has evolved since Vin and company triumphed over Ruin.  Sazed (now Harmony) is not only mentioned, but present.  All of that adds up to a fun little story designed to be a pallette cleanser as much for the author himself as for his readers.

Sample of Alloy of Law Audio Book, courtesy of 

Macmillan Audio

Given the beginning of the novel, and the flexibility to use the koloss and/or kandra (who are both functionally absent) to represent the 'indigent people', I saw many ways Sanderson could have engaged a deeper level with the novel as he does in nearly everything else he writes.  Am I being unfair?  Am I demanding a novel that Sanderson didn't want to write?  Is this reader entitlement?  Maybe.  Probably.  But expectations are a part of the game, and given Sanderson's past work I have an expectation of what I'm getting when I pick up a book with his name on the cover.  For me, Alloy of Law under delivered, offering what was essentially an adventure short that lacked any of the thematic support necessary to sustain a novel.

Now, the real question... was I entertained?  Yes!  I enjoyed Alloy of Law.  It interrupted my read of Never Knew Another (McDermott) and The Winds of Khalakovo (Beaulieu), two novels from Night Shade Books that are dense and full of nuance. Distracting me from these two titles was a surety as Sanderson's new novel is both bite sized and breakneck in its presentation.  I would read it again, although not a second time and therein lies the rub.  Visceral enjoyment is not enough, for the same reason that Independence Day is not a good film.  Alloy of Law fails at a basic level to engage me as a reader beyond the words on the page.

In an interview with Nethspace, Sanderson was asked where Hoid was in the novel.  His response was to say:

Hoid is in the book, though his name doesn’t appear. But the things happening here during this interim are not of deep interest to Hoid like the things happening in the original trilogy, so he is playing a much smaller role here than he was in the original trilogy.

Well, that's because they aren't that interesting.  There's nothing epic here, in plot or in intent.  It's just a guy named Wax and his buddy Wayne, fighting off a criminal who may or may not be part of something larger (admittedly the end of the novel hints strongly at the former).  If Hoid isn't all that interested, why should I be?  Alloy of Law is an aside for Brandon Sanderson, a break from his tireless schedule of his Stormlight Archive and Wheel of Time commitments.  Unfortunately, that's exactly what it felt like when I read it.

Low Town - Daniel Polansky (Giveaway & Review)

U.S. Cover and Title

Tell me if you've heard this one before, ok?  Joe Abercrombie walks into a bar, sits down and orders a whiskey.  He takes a shot and looks down the bar where he sees fellow fantasy author Brandon Sanderson sitting at a table.  Sanderson is laying out a Magic: The Gathering deck and drinking a glass of milk.  Abercrombie, seeing his comrade in arms, stands up and walks over.  They get to talking about this and that, of course Abercrombie tries his best not to swear or talk about sex, an admittedly difficult bit of conversationlism.

Before you know it, the two of them start writing.  Sanderson is handling the outline, plotting things just so and building the world.  Meanwhile Abercrombie is writing the scenes, adding his grit and authentic dialogue to Sanderson's framework.  He decides to try first person this time, change is a good thing, right?  Somewhere along the way Sanderson wins the sexytime argument.  They finish the novel and agree on the pseudonym Daniel Polansky.  And so, Low Town was born.

That's just a legend.  To the best of my knowledge Daniel Polansky is a real person, and not some amalgamation of two bestselling fantasy authors.  But it could be true because Low Town is the love child that Abercrombie and Sanderson (probably) will never have.  It's well paced, richly textured, and demonstrates all the rawness that the genre has come to expect from the modern fantasy writer.

Polansky's protagonist is Warden, a 30-something drug dealer, and user, with a checkered past. He used to be more, but now he haunts the streets of Low Town peddling his product and trying to stay alive (sort of).  Low Town reads like crime fiction that wouldn't be at all out of place shelved among James Ellroy and Ellmore Leonard.  There's an urban feel to it all, and Warden is very much a noir protagonist, past his prime and world weary, but committed to doing what needs doing.  In this case, that's solving the mystery of a murdered girl which the powers that be have no interest in doing.

He doesn't look like Joe

or Brandon!

It didn't surprise me to learn that Polansky is a Baltimore native.  Anyone who's watched HBO's The Wire will find some familiarity. Warden is reminiscent of Stringer Bell (Idris Elba), a drug dealer with intelligence, ambition, and a desire to see less violence on the streets, if only for the sake of profit.  Themes from The Wire like corruption, institutional dysfunction (or disinterest), and poverty are also reflected in the novel through Warden's colored perceptions.

Beyond the Mystery Machine (overt Scooby Doo reference), Low Town is also a second world fantasy that provides a mystery of its own, heightened by the limitations of a first person narrative.  Unable to provide any direct exposition, Polansky dribbles out the world through Warden's encounters, memories, and dreams.  He creates a mystery within a mystery within a mystery.  Who killed the girl?  Who is Warden and where does he come from?  How does all this fit into the larger world?  In choosing the first person, Polansky gave himself free reign to control the reader's perception.  Carefully choosing the order of encounters, and the types of encounters, he creates a perfectly paced novel that kept urging me forward without frustrating me (always a risk when the narrator has knowledge the reader does not).

It's not all roses though.  I think there's a fair criticism to be levied related to one-note characters that are archetypal for the genre.  Gregarious and burly innkeeper, go-getter gutter rat, malicious police chief, and kindly wizard are a few of them that are recycled here.  Additionally, I saw the 'twist' coming from early on (although there were enough red herrings throughout that I questioned my confidence) and given the tradition of intricately plotted fantasy novels, this one is fairly mundane (more like urban fantasy in that regard).  Polansky does leave enough dangling about Warden's past to warrant a sequel, but there's nothing epic about the plot itself that would call for future volumes.

Stringer Bell will mess you up, mofo!

That said, when asked, what did you think of Low Town, Justin?  I'm going to gush.  It isn't the best novel I've read this year.  It's not even the best debut.  It is, however, the most entertaining.  Polansky grabbed me in the first chapter and never let go.  Last I checked authors are in the story telling business and Polansky tells a great story.  Much darker than Sanderson, and not as authentic or well put together as Abercrombie, Low Town takes elements from each of them, turning out a debut novel that will appeal to fans of both.  I hope to see a lot more of Daniel Polansky in the future.

You can find Daniel Polansky on Twitter (@danielpolansky) or at his website.  He's currently working on the sequel to Low Town (when he's not bumming around foreign countries).  Check back next week for an interview with the author.

*********Giveaway*********

Low Town by Daniel Polansky

1 book to 5 winners courtesy of Doubleday.

Giveaway Details:

This giveaway is open to North American residents only (alas).  You must be 18 years of age or older to participate. Void where prohibited by law. Giveaway rules are subject to change.  

How to participate:

• To enter the giveaway, just place a comment in this post and declare intention to participate.
• One entry per person, or face disqualification.
• Make sure to provide an email address or Twitter username at which I can contact you.
• Entries accepted until 11:59pm ET on November 25, 2011
• Winners will be chosen by random sorting entries, and then using a random number generator.
• There will be 5  winners, who will receive 1 book each.
• Winner will have to confirm by email/DM to be considered a winner within a week after November 17, 2011.

ONE additional entry may be had by doing the following:

• Follow me on my blog publicly so that you appear on Google Friend Connect.
• Follow me on twitter, @jdiddyesquire. Make sure to provide your twitter username in your entry.

If you do either of the steps above, or you are already following me, you'll receive ONE additional entry.

Thanks, and good luck!

The Restoration Game - Ken MacLeod

Looks like cyberpunk, 

right? Nope!

I'm not sure The Restoration Game is science fiction.  Sure, it's technically based on a speculative what-if, but does that make something a science fiction novel?  Science fiction, I believe, is all about a discussion on humanity's relationship to technology.  I feel a lot more comfortable thinking of it as a Dickian (Philip K.) novel that grapples with issues of human perception more than one looking at our relationship to technology.  Or maybe it's just a thriller.

Other than a prologue and an epilogue, the events in Ken MacLeod's most recent novel take place in 2008, leading up to the South Ossetia War (or at least a fictional simulacrum there of).  The narrative is recounted by Lucy Stone, an Edinburgh expat from the former Soviet controlled Krassnia.  In that troubled region of the former Soviet Union, revolution is brewing.  Its organizers need a safe place to meet, and where better than the virtual spaces of an online game?  Lucy, who works for a start-up games company, has a project that almost seems made for the job: its original inspiration came from Krassnian folklore.  As Lucy digs up details about her birthplace, she finds her interest has not gone unnoticed.

The main narrative is endemic to spy fiction.  Lucy's mother, and great grandmother both have some connection to the CIA and their machinations have compromised their progeny.  Mystery's abound.  Who is Lucy's father?  What are the motivations for the revolution?  Who stands to gain?  This thriller mentality works well as MacLeod revists the how and the why of the fall of the Soviet Union.  Through Lucy the reader is exposed to documents detailing KGB investigations, and commentary on Stalin's purges.  Ultimately these commentaries become a demonstration of the prevailing power of capitalism and the inherent expression of it in the human spirit.

Early on, Restoration Game seems to be more about how the story gets told than the story itself.  MacLeod layers Lucy's narration, starting near the end and backtracking.  She reveals things about her life in her own time, often referencing things like 'The Worst Day of My Life' without describing the day until several chapters later.  While this technique can be occasionally frustrating, MacLeod is mostly successful in using it to maintain a constant tension.

Additionally, the main plot is bracketed by an prologue and epilogue that set up and conclude the twist that makes the novel "speculative" and not simply an alternate look at Russian foreign policy.  Much like the M. Night Shyamalan's The Sixth Sense, once the twist becomes clear, the entire narrative changes - was I reading what I thought I was reading?  Unfortunately, this is also one of the novel's weaker points as the 'twist' is fairly obvious from the prologue... wait maybe it is an M. Night Shyamalan movie!  The problem isn't so much that MacLeod does a poor job of concealing it, rather it's a twist I've seen used a hundred times.  I recognized it early on and kept hoping there would be more to it.  Alas.

Telling a story in this manner takes an extremely capable writer. The jumps through time, and back again, into source documents, and then back into Lucy's head, are all done with a deft hand, highlighting MacLeod's command of his story and the language. But, I would be remiss if I didn't say that my opinion of Restoration Game would be loftier with the extraneous bits cut out, which, in this case, means all the science fiction stuff. Most of it comes off as tangential to the larger plot of Lucy and her family's history, making me wonder if the idea for the science came after the idea for the fiction.

Despite a frustratingly transparent and common twist, Ken MacLeod has written a wonderful story about Lucy Stone against the Russians.  While it blends history and current events in compelling fashion, the science fiction framing doesn't wash.  It's a thriller, that would stand out in the spy fiction market, dressed up as science fiction.  All of that makes The Restoration Game a novel worth reading, although not necessarily one that demands to be read.

Shadow's Lure - Jon Sprunk (Giveaway & Review)

Earlier this year I reviewed Jon Sprunk's 2010 debut novel, Shadow's Son.  While I very much enjoyed it, my review was less than glowing.  I felt some things were sacrificed to the novel's breakneck pace and that Caim, Spunk's protagonist, was a little too one-dimensional. In a not so stunning development, Shadow's Lure corrects many of these deficiencies and in so doing demonstrates tremendous growth in Sprunk's craft.

Without spoiling too much of what went on in the first novel, Lure picks up right where Son left off.  Caim (what?! the main character survives? no way!) leaves his home in Othir behind, heading north to discover the truth behind the murder of his parents and his power over the shadow.  He leaves Josey behind, now Empress of the Nimean Empire, to consolidate her power.

The nature of the two stories, which could be read completely separate from one another, blunt the pace that was such a hallmark of Sprunk's debut.  Much of the slowdown (never slowness) is affected by much more extensive character development and world building, an almost always welcome and, in this case, necessary inclusion.  That lack of frenetic energy shouldn't be taken to mean it's inferior.  Quite the opposite.  In taking his time to build the narrative, Sprunk has written a different kind of novel that succeeds because of what it doesn't have, almost as much as because of what it does (Yes, that was an awkward sentence, screw it).

Lure is divided primarily into three points of view - Josey, Caim, and Kit. While Sprunk occasionally dips into other characters, it's these three who comprise the bulk of the narrative.  He separates them from one another in the novel's early stages, providing him the opportunity to drill down to a level that the structure of the first novel never allowed him to.

Josey's point of view is very political in nature, subject to plots and machinations of factions within the Empire. Through her, the world is capably fleshed out without resorting to information dumps or poorly concealed exposition. Similarly, Kit becomes the defacto spelunker who delves into the Shadow, revealing the world behind the world that is only tangentially touched on prior (for fans of Kit she gets significant page time). In contrast, Caim's sections remain highly kinetic, often going from fight to fight. Moments of rest in between allow him to develop into a textured character and not a simple archetype.

Of course, it should be no surprise that Sprunk continues to shine in his depiction of action sequences.  Sure, they compelled a raised eyebrow of disbelief from time to time, but they always left me with a crystal clear picture in my mind of how Caim whipped his opponent(s) - something that other writers (Weeks) in this sub-genre can struggle with.  By novel's end, the relentless action connects with the determined expansion of world and character, making Lure a much more complete novel than its predecessor.

There are some hiccups though.  Things are on occasion too neat and black and white.  At one point there's an attack on Josey where a single bite would kill (or seriously incapacitate) her.  Despite the creature being wrapped around her, she somehow manages to avoid such a fate.  Sprunk uses the annoying trick of handicapping his protagonist with wound after festering wound.  Someday, I would very much enjoy an author letting his protagonist face the final battle at 100%.  The series's villain is inherently evil and I never felt that her actions were righteous even from her perspective - something that modern fantasy has become very adept at doing.  Mostly these are small quibbles and Sprunk tells such a capable story that none of them remotely imperiled my enjoyment of the novel.

While elements remain decidedly couched in a common, and arguably overused, motif, the Shadow Saga remains a worthy addition to the fantasy Rolodex.   Once completed, Sprunk's trilogy will go on the shelf right next to the Night Angel Trilogy where it will compete for the hearts of assassin lovers for years to come.  For fans of Brent Weeks, Brandon Sanderson, and to some degree Joe Abercrombie and Scott Lynch, this is a series that shouldn't be missed.  Shadow's Master, the third and final volume in the series, is already one of my most looked forward to titles of early 2012.

You can find Jon Sprunk on his blog, Fear of the Dark, or on Twitter (@jsprunk).

*********Giveaway*********

Shadow's Son and Shadow's Lure by Jon Spurnk

2 books to 1 winner courtesy of Pyr.

Giveaway Details:

This giveaway is open to North American residents only (alas).  You must be 18 years of age or older to participate. Void where prohibited by law. Giveaway rules are subject to change.  

How to participate:

• To enter the giveaway, just place a comment in this post and declare intention to participate.
• One entry per person, or face disqualification.
• Make sure to provide an email address or Twitter username at which I can contact you.
• Entries accepted until 11:59pm ET on November 17, 2011
• Winners will be chosen by random sorting entries, and then using a random number generator.
• There will be 1  winners, who will receive 2 books.
• Winner will have to confirm by email/DM to be considered a winner within a week after November 17, 2011.

ONE additional entry may be had by doing the following:

• Follow me on my blog publicly so that you appear on Google Friend Connect.
• Follow me on twitter, @jdiddyesquire. Make sure to provide your twitter username in your entry.

If you do either of the steps above, or you are already following me, you'll receive ONE additional entry.

Thanks, and good luck!

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.