A Series Review: Acacia by David Anthony Durham

"Of course a thing that could be made into a weapon would be made into a weapon. It did not matter if it was a thing of beauty. It did not matter if their mission was holy and benevolent. It only mattered that The Song could be twisted to serve human greed. If that was so, it was only a measure of time until someone grasped for it." 

- The Sacred Band, David Anthony Durham

That quote stood out to me in the final volume of The Acacia Trilogy. I wouldn't say it's the theme of the series distilled down into four lines of prose, but it is pretty representative of one of the many contained there in. On the surface, David Anthony Durham's trilogy, and first foray into genre fiction, looks like run of the mill epic fantasy. His protagonists are four royal children whose father is struck dead in the opening moments of the first novel, The War With the Main, forcing them to scatter, grow to adulthood, and return to restore peace to the Akaran Kingdom and the Known World. It's not quite the farm boy prophesied to save the world, but it's not far off.

I began with this quote not because of its significance to the overall message of Durham's work, rather because it signifies an attempt to speak to something larger than the narrative itself. I suspect that many reviews written about Durham's series will laud it for its progressive nature (edit: after writing this post I read NethSpace's review that does just that) and rightly so.

At the start of the story, the Akaran kingdom has been ruled by a family for generations. Their power is maintained through an arrangement with a powerful entity across the sea. In exchange for a drug called mist, the Akaran's offer up a quota of children for an unknown purpose. Through mist they create a pliable population to work the mines and fields that sustain their reign. Unlike so much fantasy, the series ends not with the status quo (i.e. - the evil defeated), but with legitimate change and progression toward something better, brought about by the will of the characters and their own growth. Suffice to say there's a great deal to chew on with regard to Durham's social commentary.

While this discussion isn't necessarily my central focus, I mention it to highlight the depth achieved by Durham in a less than expansive canvas. The three book series, while historically the standard in genre fiction, has gotten complicated. Epic fantasy has become unwieldy. Robert Jordan, George R.R. Martin, Joe Abercrombie, Raymond E. Feist, Terry Brooks, and all the rest keep writing in the same world. The result is a massive backlog of story that encourages readers to either plow ahead without knowing what's come before or invest gads of time and money catching up. This is fine, they're great authors who write great books. Unfortunately, I've a belief that these types of fantasies have bread an inherent attempt to find the next Wheel of Time or Song of Ice and Fire.

As a result, we have Brandon Sanderon's Stormlight Archive, Peter V. Brett's Demon Cycle, and Daniel Abraham's Dagger and Coin. Not because readers want length; because they crave the sweeping canvas, the endless scope, and the breadth of change. Packing more into three volumes than many authors can pack into ten, Durham's Acacia bucks that trend to return epic fantasy to its structural roots, embracing tropes, while simultaneously moving afield.

One of the places he most manipulates expectations is in his approach to characters. Many modern fantasies, from the Joe Abercrombies and K.J. Parkers of the world, present the individual, heroic or otherwise, as a self-interested actor. To those authors, morality is a judgement after the fact. Actions can be interpreted to be good or evil, heroic or cowardly, but the motivations behind them are always inherently selfish. This is juxtaposed by the traditional fantasy character who sacrifices himself for the greater good, or sacrifices everyone for his own gain.

In Acacia, Durham handles it different still. Morally relativistic, yes, but with an intrinsic belief that most people want to do the right thing. Even Durham's "evilest" characters act in (what they've convinced themselves to be) the best interests of others. To them, the ends always justify the means. Layered there is an argument that power corrupts in so far as it blinds the individual to the consequences of action. It's an interesting conversation at Abercrombie and Parker who write without a recognition of good and evil. To them all motivations are the same, only outcomes differ, interpreted as right or wrong objectively by others. Durham recognizes goodness in all its forms, most especially when evil is done in its commission.

It's all of these reasons that War With the Mein was the novel that brought me back to fantasy. What made me really sit up and take notice was the subtext -- the frank discussion of social class, duty, family, and morality. There are times when Durham's characters become Mary Sues. And moderate levels of deus ex machina rear their head from time to time. For me, these moments are easily pushed aside, ignored in favor of the poignant story, memorable characters, and vast change ushered in with every page.

Published by Anchor, a Doubleday imprint and publisher of mainstream fiction, War With the Mein generated a lot of early buzz, including a John W. Campbell Award nomination for Best New Writer for Durham. Alas, with a two year delay between books and a first installment that lacked obvious newness, some readers moved on. That was a mistake and George R. R. Martin agrees with me, recently blurbing the series' reissue in trade paperback.

The new editions of the trilgoy come with Martin's recommendation, but also 14,000 words lighter. Responding to critics and readers who found the early part of War With the Mein slow, Durham tightened things up, cutting exposition and redundancies without changing the plot or characters. I think it speaks to the truth that each novel in the series improved as Durham did as a writer.

I still worry that not enough readers will find Acacia. I hope this review will help in that regard. It rekindled in me a love of fantasy and for that it will always hold a place in my pantheon. More importantly though, it's a series I'll pass it on to my children for the honesty that David Anthony Durham brings to the Known World. I hope it isn't the last we've heard of him in genre fiction.

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.

Jade Dreams - Wakefield Mahon

I held a drawing earlier this month to randomly select a self published title to read and review. Jade Dreams by Wakefield Mahon was the winner of that drawing. By the time I'm done with this review, he may regret entering.

The truth is I strongly considered not writing a review, despite my promises to do so. There's so little meat to the book, that I struggled with how to critique it. That felt like a cop out.

Additionally, although not relevant to my "review", the notion that this novella is being sold for $5.99 (it was $2.99 when I bought it) on Kindle is offensive to me as a consumer. As far as I'm concerned Jade Dreams is a classic example of why self-published has become a pejorative in some circles.

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This is my fifth installment of posts featuring Cheryl (and Fizbane). If you enjoy this one, I suggest finding the Cheryl tag on the right sidebar for the others.

While I absolutely did not enjoy this book on any level, I have every intention of running another 'contest' like this in the future. I want to find good self published work and publicize it. Stay tuned for that.

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*type* *type* *type*

Justin: Cheryl, could you please stop all the typing? It's making me crazy.

Cheryl: Sorry Mr. Landon, but your review of Pillars of Hercules a few weeks ago really inspired me to start writing my novel!

Justin: Seriously?

Cheryl: I think it's magical.

Justin: I'm sure you do.

Cheryl: You know, it's not OK for you to talk down to me like a four year old?

Justin: *sputtering*

Cheryl: Just because you pay me doesn't mean you can be rude.

Justin: I'm sorry Cheryl. What's the title of your book?

Cheryl: It's called Throbbing Python. It's about...

Justin: I'm quite sure that's all I need to know. Have you talked to an agent yet?

Cheryl: Oh no, I'm going to self publish it.

Justin: ... You really shouldn't. I review these things for a living...

Cheryl: No, you don't.

Justin: Yes, I do.

Cheryl: You don't make a dime. Most people call that a hobby.

Justin: What I do is important!!

Cheryl: Whatever.

Justin: But seriously, Cheryl. I just finished a self published novel. It's bad... really bad. I don't want that for you.

Cheryl: *gasp* You just don't want me to embarrass you.

Justin: Oh come on *cough*. You don't seriously think I could be that shallow? I really do have your best interests at heart. Look here, I just finished Jade Dreams by Wakefield Mahon. He won that drawing I did a few weeks ago to review a self published novel.

Cheryl: Oh it can't be all that bad. I read the blurb. It sounded like a lovely story of siblings who are destined to battle an ancient evil using a mystical sword!

Justin: Something like that. God, you make it sound even worse than it is... I worry for Throbbing Pythons.

Cheryl: It's singular... there's only one.. erm.. python.

Justin: Right. Anyway, see the story starts with Karen and Timmy learning of their parent's deaths. They're victims of a car accident on Breakneck Road near Storm King Mountain (I scoffed too, but those are real places in New York!). As they grieve, the siblings grow closer, bonding over their love of all things Japanese (manga, video games, anime, martial arts). Every night Timmy asks his sister to tell him a story and oftentimes she tells him of her vivid dreams that feel more like memories. In these dreams Karen goes into the past, living moments from the lives of famous heroes like Mulan and Joan of Arc. She never thinks much of them until she meets a Kendo master who begins to lead her down the path to destiny.

Cheryl: Oh Kendo! Sword fighting! Hi-ya!

Justin: That's a little racially insensitive don't you think?

Cheryl: You're calling ME insensitive?

Justin: Point taken.

Cheryl: It really doesn't sound bad!

Justin: You're right. The idea isn't terrible. I enjoyed the tie in with the historical figures and for a middle-grade fantasy the notion of a young woman fulfilling her destiny as the savior of the world is something I can get behind. It's trite, but there's still a place for it. Of course, Mahon never really runs with the historical flashbacks. He fails to make them at all relevant to the plot, nor does he adequately build Karen's character (and don't get me started on Timmy, or the other ancillary characters) into anything resembling believable.

Cheryl: I swear, it's like you think you Vladimir Nabokov.

Justin: And it's like you're my mom. You need to learn to appreciate the value of criticism! If you're going to release Turgid Viper into the world, you best prepared for this and worse.

Cheryl: Turgid Viper? Now you're just belittling me.

*poof*

Fizbane: I'm sorry to interrupt, Cheryl. But as a representative of Amazon Digital Services, I'd like to show you the wide range of services we offer. Here's a pamphlet.

Justin: Amazon Digital Services?! I thought you worked for Google!

Fizbane: I'm a consultant. I have several clients. Wizards have to make a living too, you know?

Cheryl: *paging through the pamphlet*

Justin: Huh, well look here you hack, Cheryl isn't going to be self publishing anything.

Cheryl: *closing pamphlet* You know, Fizbane, this doesn't seem like a very good deal you're offering. In fact, it looks like you can change my price willy nilly. I'm going to hear Mr. Landon out.

Justin: Here's the thing. Once you put something out there with Cheryl Hufflepuff on the byline, you can't take it back. You're telling consumers, this is what I have to offer. Look at Jade Dreams. The author uses the first person point of view, riding inside Karen's head for most of the novel. Karen thinks mostly in simple sentences, never engages in introspection, and reveals herself as wholly motivated to do life threatening things to cheer up her brother. She also rarely, if ever observes much about the world around her. Although occasionally she seems particularly observant about things. Look at this quote:

Across from them sat two men that I assumed were Jewish. One wore a little skull cap, the other one wore a black hat and wore a long beard and payot. They seemed to be having a heated debate about Jacob and Israel and the 32nd chapter of the first book of the Torah.

Interesting that a Chinese-American teenager would be so interested in two Jewish men having a theological debate. Even more curious is that she could identify what they're talking about, and further the chapter and book of the text to which they are referring. And how in God's name does she know what payot is, but not a yarmulke?

And then, toward the novel's conclusion Mahon decides to switch POVs and goes into the head of two other characters, one of which is little brother Timmy who has this encounter while being held prisoner:

She leaned forward, whispered into my ear, and told me not to tell until it was time.

The use of these kinds of devices is just lazy. Not to tell who? The reader? Did Mahon just break the fourth wall? Why would Timmy hide this little fact from himself? While these are only two quoteable examples, I think they illustrate a major deficiency in understanding how to use the first person point of view. That's something a professional editor, or any responsible crit group would have pointed out.

Cheryl: That doesn't mean he's not telling a good story!

Justin: I'm sorry to say the story telling isn't very good either. The early parts of the novel move pretty well, engaging the reader in the family's grief coming to terms with loss of their parents. Once the main narrative gets going things get very random and  murky. Everything is told, not shown. No character is given proper motivation. The prose is painfully pedestrian. Things happen with absolutely no underpinning. And seriously... this:

"The one you call Raven controls the key. In order to return, you must make your way to the Dark Castle." 

Cheryl: *gulp*

Justin: Maybe he explains all this away by calling it "middle-grade" fantasy. I've read plenty of novels for young people... they still have to be engaging and they still have to make sense.

Cheryl: So you're saying no one should self publish?

Justin: Not at all! I think self-publishing is a perfectly legitimate path to make a living as a writer. As a test ground for someone's self indulgent and amateurish attempts at writing? No. Please no. It insults the reader, but also belittles the product. For every self published work like Jade Dreams the overall image of self publishing declines, making it more and more likely that no one will take a chance on something. It  also forces down the price at which people will buy them. Before you know it, no one will buy a self published novel for more than $0.99. Who wins in that scenario? Hell, not even Fizbane the corporate blood sucker can turn that into a net gain.

Look, I'm not saying Mahon shouldn't write. I applaud him for writing the book, it's more than I've ever done. But, why... why... why would you show this to the world and charge them for it? Hone your craft!

Cheryl: I can't believe I'm saying this... you're making sense.

Fizbane: *flummoxed* Am I in an alternate universe? Did I take the wrong gate? Should I be going by Zifenab?

Justin: I'm going to migrate to Wordpress if you don't take a hike, Wizard.

Fizbane: Eek. *poof*

Cheryl: Thanks for talking to me about this Mr. Landon.

Justin: No problem Cheryl. Let me know if you need any more help with Engorged Cobra.

Cheryl: It's Throbbing Pyt... *sigh* Nevermind.

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.

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.

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.

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!