The City's Son by Tom Pollock

Tom Pollock writes beautiful prose. It's the first thing I noticed about his debut novel, The City's Son. So good in fact, that it buoys a straight forward young adult urban fantasy to new heights. It's a rare novel of that ilk that's able to hook me enough to give it a full run. I was pleased that not only did it engage me enough to finish the novel, but I found myself coming back to it time and again despite finding the plot just short of boring.

I admit that last sentence is about the biggest back handed compliment I've ever given someone. Guilty as charged, however, it's not that simple. Allow me to explain.

Beth is a trouble maker, daughter of a Hackney widower with a penchant for artistic tagging, and she's pulling her best friend Pen Khan down with her. After a rough encounter with corrupt school administrators, Beth runs away from her endlessly grieving father. In London's back alleys, she sees something she should never have seen. Caught up in the divine forces on which the city is built, she finds herself in a war between London's deep history and her ruthlessly modern future.

The architecture grew darker, stranger: a heavily graffiti'd old cinema building, its neon sign long-dead and its doors shuttered; an electricity sub-station half-hidden behind a cloud of razor-wire, and everywhere, the cranes massed on the skyline like cruel sentinels.

City's Son is a love story, both in the traditional sense and otherwise. Beth is struggling through life. She's a teenager who lacks direction. Her dad is checked out. She's falling through the cracks. Her brilliance is unappreciated by anyone other than her best friend. Pollock guides the reader through her awakening to the world outside her own skull--her love for the people around her and their love for her. Not love as excretion as so often is the case in juvenile fiction (notice, I didn't say young adult as adult fiction can often be more juvenile this regard than the younger variety), rather love as acceptance, both of herself and others.

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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 Rogue - Trudi Canavan

The Rogue, the second book in Trudi Canavan's Traitor Spy Trilogy, picks up right where The Ambassador's Mission left off. Unfortunately four hundred plus pages later Canavan has not moved a lot closer to resolving the conflicts introduced in what was a promising first book. Finishing the second installment left me underwhelmed.

Since anyone thinking about reading The Rogue has surely read the preceding book, I'm not going to delve into the plot much. Suffice to say, all the old cast of characters are back and Canavan introduces one new face, Lilia - a budding magician trying to fit in. I would be remiss however if I didn't mention the fact that at least one of the primary story lines that absorbs half of The Ambassador's Mission and The Rogue makes no progress to speak of.

To make matters worse the book ends with two cliff hangers neither of which seem strongly influenced by the book's events. Rather than making me want to read the next installment, I just felt frustrated. I understand that today's fantasy marketplace demands multi book arcs. That's no excuse to not self contain each novel to some degree. Canavan's epilogue is more about advertising the third book than it is about completing the second.

In the first book, my main complaint was the lack of character development. While the problem remains, Canavan shows some improvement. Dannyl, a gay historian and ambassador, is a superb character. Throughout the book he struggles with his feelings between two men, his loyalty to his country, and his advancing years. Unlike so many gay characters in fiction, Dannyl's sexuality is part of who he is - not a casualty of a socially progressive checklist.

For that reason, I was disappointed that Lilia, a young woman coming into her own sexuality, felt exactly like a victim of "equal time". It's as though Canavan got a call from the GLBT community to not give short shrift to lesbians. I applaud the desire to put homosexual characters in the spotlight. That said, I think it does a disservice when they feel like token offerings to god of inclusiveness. Beyond that, Lelia's actions and motivations just never felt believable. This ultimately turns her into 100 pages worth of plot device I don't particularly care about.

Still, the story has pace that kept me reading. Aided by frequent point of view shifts, I continued to chase the carrot, so to speak. While reading I couldn't help keep thinking how much more I'd have enjoyed the book ten years ago when mainstream fantasy only required good plots and creative settings. Now days I just expect more depth. The frequent shift in POV never provided enough detail on any one character or setting to truly feel immersed.

With all that said, Canavan has a good story to tell. I can't recommend The Rogue on its on own merits, but I'm interested in what happens next. The Traitor Spy Trilogy will find a lot of fans amongst young adult readers and those new to genre fiction.