The Emperor's Blades by Brian Staveley

With the giants of epic fantasy taking longer and longer between installments, genre aficionados are constantly looking for the next big thing and if the hype is to be believed Brian Staveley's debut The Emperor's Blade may just be it. With a familiar plot structure, characters that are comfortably similar to old fictional friends, and a subtle magical system that begs to be explored in more depth there is certainly plenty to recommend in this first volume. Whether or not the strength of Staveley's story telling can overcome the essential sameness of it all and the few problematic choices in his handling of female characters is the real question.

Breach Zone by Myke Cole

Reading Myke Cole's newest novel has become a bit of a New Year's tradition for me. Fortress Frontier was the first book I read in 2013, and Control Point was one of the first of 2012. This year has been no different, Breach Zone was my first novel this year and it certainly set the bar for the rest of the year. It's been awesome to watch Cole's career and work evolve over the last few years and he really knocks it out of the park with the conclusion to the Shadow Ops series. While I was expecting improvement over his last effort, Cole delivers a novel so much better than his last that there is no doubt that he's earned his place as one of the most watched authors in the genre. With pulse hammering action around every corner this novel could have become just a sequence of strung together set pieces with magic and missiles flying, but Cole layers the narrative with hard truths about duty and service, community and redemption. Breach Zone has a giant heart inside its bruised and battered chest and that's the real key to its success.

Hollow World by Michael J. Sullivan

It’s always an interesting proposition when an author jumps to another genre. Will the elements of their successes in one venue parlay into equal success in another? Will the story be as entertaining as the previous works, despite a complete change of storytelling scenery, with different tropes and expectations? Readers of this blog are well aware that I’m decidedly more comfortable with fantasy novels, only branching into science fiction rarely. So when I heard that Michael J. Sullivan was using Kickstarter to produce a science fiction story, I was curious to see if my love for Sullivan’s work would extend to a story outside of the Riyria series. I’m happy to report that not only does Hollow World establish Sullivan as a force to be reckoned with in any genre he chooses to ply his talent to, it also is a prime example of one of the reasons speculative fiction is so important. Hollow World is an excellent and thought provoking novel that tackles big issues yet does so in such a way to allow the reader to draw their own conclusions once they reach the end of this thoughtful, entertaining and compelling science fiction murder mystery.

The Deaths of Tao by Wesley Chu

I always approach sophomore novels with a certain amount of trepidation. Things like middle book syndrome, sophomore slump,and rushed to market always seem to come to mind. The more I liked the debut the more hesitant I am to crack the cover on their second effort. And there's no doubt how I felt about Chu's breakout success The Lives of Tao, it's currently on my list of the best books I've read this year. So it goes without saying that I was worried that Chu may not be able to catch lightning in a bottle the second time around. Due to some gutsy writing choices, I was in for quite the roller coaster ride as my expectations were mowed down like red-shirted extras in the opening chapters but Chu manages to sell a story that while standing in the shadow of its predecessor manages to shine on its own, very different merits.

The Rose and the Thorn by Michael J. Sullivan

Prequel stories are a dangerous proposition; just ask George Lucas. The knowledge of what comes after, of the end game if you will, can taint the enjoyment of these stories from the very beginning. The stakes are even more daunting when the principle property is beloved by a legion of fans. Even after reading Michael J. Sullivan’s excellent first prequel novel to his uber-successful Riyria Revelations series, The Crown Tower, and loving it, I was a bit concerned that he might not be able to catch lightning in a bottle again.

While not as satisfying as the previous effort, The Rose and the Thorn is still packed with all of the things that made Sullivan such a powerhouse in the genre. There are banter and battle in equal measure, a touch of romance, sharply drawn characters, and the wonderful blend of nostalgic sword and sorcery that hearkens back to the books that led many thirty and forty-something readers to the genre in the first place.

Happy Hour In Hell by Tad Williams

As I've stated before, I've always found Tad Williams’ body of work a mixed bag. I loved Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn but everything since has left me cold. Until I read The Dirty Streets of Heaven, Williams’ first foray into urban fantasy. The first of the Bobby Dollar series moved Tad back to my must read list. I was fortunate to get a review copy directly from the author, and spent most of my Labor Day weekend following the further adventures of Heaven’s most love struck angel. I won’t sugar coat it, fans of the rapid fire pacing of the stereotypical urban fantasy novel may find Happy Hour in Hell to be a step backward from the frenetic pace of its predecessor, but those who are accustomed to the door-stopper sized novels from Williams’ previous work, will find the richer world building comforting and familiar. Happy Hour in Hell may suffer a bit from middle-book syndrome, but it is still a worthy addition to the series and Tad’s oeuvre as well.

The Woken Gods by Gwenda Bond

I’m fairly certain that The Woken Gods is only the fourth YA novel I've read this year. But the blurb sounded promising and the idea of gods walking among men seemed close enough to my wheel house to all but guarantee that I would enjoy it, so I took the plunge. After reading, I've decided that the novel is pretty typical of the reasons why I read so little Young Adult fiction, yet continue to dip my toe in the water from time to time. This is not to say that I didn't like the novel. I did. Despite some disconnects, The Woken Gods gets a lot of things right and makes for an interesting and easy read. And there is nothing wrong with that.

Student Bodies by Sean Cummings

My experience with Young Adult fiction is pretty limited, and I typically read only the cultural phenomenon books like The Hunger Games and Harry Potter or works by authors I already enjoy, like Chuck Wendig or Dan Wells. However, I choose a few books from Angry Robot’s YA line, Strange Chemistry, as an experiment. Sean Cumming’s Student Bodies is the first of those.

The star of Cumming’s tale is Julie Richardson, high school student and a witch with a surprising amount of magical power. When Julie and her boyfriend, Marcus uncover a supernatural plot to murder students at their high school, they are quickly swept into battle with an ancient evil that could easily destroy their entire town. With a surprisingly diverse cast of allies, Julie and Marcus must uncover the source of the threat and eliminate it, before time runs out.

I was a little disappointed when I realized that Student Bodies was the second installment in a series, with Poltergeekspreceding it. Cummings does an excellent job of making the story work without too much knowledge of what came before. There are plenty of references to the previous volume, but they convey the relevant information in such a way that it doesn’t hinder the pacing or confuse readers who come to the series in the middle, like I did.

The Bottom of the Sea by Zachary Jernigan

I don't read a lot of short fiction. In fact, I think I've only reviewed one collection of shorts since starting the blog. But it's not because I don't like them, because I do, but I typically only bother with them if I like the author's longer work. I'm certain that's short sighted of me, but it is what it is. In my limited experience with short fiction, I have concluded that when comparing short fiction to longer work by the same author there are almost no writers that are better in brief. Stephen King is the only one that immediately comes to mind. Zachary Jernigan seems to be poised to be another.

I received a review copy of The Bottom of the Sea from the author and was anxious to see how I'd like his shorts, considering that No Return is on my list of the Top 10 books I've read this year. But it's more than that; I like Zach Jernigan as a person. I've interacted with him on several projects and he's a likeable, self depreciating, witty, and all around awesome guy. So I really wanted to like these stories, and yet was terrified what would happen if I didn't. I'm glad to report that it only took about five pages before I knew I'd been worrying for nothing.  The Bottom of the Sea combines the gritty audacity of No Return with impressive and inventive story telling that asks as much of the reader as it does itself.

But I do have one complaint.

It's too short by half.

I was tempted to leave it at that but I'd like to think I owe the readers and Zach better than that. I'm going to forego analyzing each story individually because I really think to discuss them too deeply will rob the reader of some of the magic. So I'll hit the high points of each piece and then say a little more about the work as a whole.

Jernigan takes on genocide and prejudice The War is Over and Everyone Wins. It's set in a world where the Caucasian race has been wiped out by a a bio-engineered weapon.The growing population of former minorities has eliminated them for their excesses and yet the world seems to have suffered for it. But all of the crunchy morals about tolerance and the evils of racial supremacy are all but invisible. This is a tale of the dysfunction in a single family all tied to the central pole of the world at large. It's the subtler, more familiar flavor of family discord that is the high point. When the curtains close, it's not the answers that matter but the questions.

Fans of No Return will feel the most at home with Fear of Drowning. I actually wondered if this story may have had some inspirational effect on the novel. Our point of view character for this tale has been taken as a lover by a goddess, only to find herself drawn into the final confrontation between her lover and a powerful lover from the deity's past. Much like No Return, the world building is cast about offhandedly and yet maintains cohesion. Sex is handled very casually here and the godlike beings are definitely the center of the action. This is perhaps the collection's most straight forward tale. Even though it is the most predictable in its structure and narrative, Jernigan manages to deftly slip in observations on both the capriciousness of divinity and the ever changing face of the heart.

 If The Fear of Drowning is the most direct story, the story that gives the collection it's title is the most subtle. This story of a blind man who grows to rely on an equally damaged young boy is only genre fiction in its subtle window dressing. Jernigan creates a fully realized sense of locale while actually giving only the most meager of description. I'm inclined to believe it's the voice of the protagonist that sells it. A man so broken, so blind to the filth and poverty around him could only live in the dockside streets that he roams. Sure, there are fantastic things out there, but they are not for him. By the end of the sharply poignant tale of the foolishness of not reaching out, I couldn't decide whether to feel pity or rage for the narrator, and that's the genius of it.

I had the most trouble with Pairs, probably because it's the story that is the most conceptually 'out there'. The concept was meaty, based on the thriving trade on the souls left after the destruction of Earth and the mismatched pair that serve as the ferrymen for the alien merchants who sell them. The sparsity of detail required by the form seemed to weaken this one, and I felt that I could have enjoyed it much more with added length. Not to say it wasn't enjoyable, it is. I just wanted more.

Jernigan saves the best for last, with All My Ghosts. This one starts familiarly enough, with a man and his ill child trapped in a blizzard far from home. The twist comes with the revelation that the man is actually a god.  Not much else is important until the man decides to sacrifice everything to give his son a chance at survival. With that choice and his Herculean trek to return his child to safety, comes the parade of ghosts from the god's seemingly endless lifetime. As a father, this story resonated with me the most soundly, echoing the primal need to protect that all fathers have while simultaneously lamenting the burdens placed upon us by our own fathers as we pass them down to our own children. The end of the story is left vague, and the bracketing passages at the front and end of the story allow the reader to speculate an ending to suite their tastes, but it only highlights the importance of a single man/god's choice.

As a collection, I'd say The Bottom of the Sea fires on all cylinders. Fans of Jernigan's unconventional world building will not be disappointed, nor will those who were attracted to his carefully drawn and ultimately damaged protagonists.Those who have not read No Return will know whether or not to invest in a longer word count based on how much they enjoyed these shorts. The strength of the shorts ultimately rested on the excellent use of literary negative space, allowing the reader to fill in the gaps and trusting the reader to be smart enough to get it right. It's no mean feat to use ambiguity to your betterment, but The Bottom of the Sea makes it look easy.

The Crown Tower by Michael J. Sullivan

I'm confident that having a popular and well received series is the dream for most authors. Unfortunately, many authors of such series develop what I like to call "cash cow" disease, and their series drag on coming more and more bloated as the author milks every last drop of financial success from the property, diluting what was once a intriguing property by forgetting that sometimes less is more. When I heard that Michael J. Sullivan was releasing prequel novels to his excellent and completed Riyria Revelations, I worried that any return to the lives of Hadrian and Royce would pale in comparison to the completed series. Sullivan closed the door on these characters well and left almost no unanswered questions on the table, leaving my concerned that these prequel novels would be irrelevant to the series as a whole. I couldn't have been more wrong. The Crown Tower is a worthy addition to the Riyria property, full of the excellent characterization and light-hearted sense of adventure that made Sullivan such a success. More importantly it deepens the readers understanding of the protagonists and adds a richness to the preceeding books thus rewarding readers that have already devoured the preceding six volumes.

The books back copy follows:

TWO MEN WHO HATE EACH OTHER.

ONE IMPOSSIBLE MISSION.

A LEGEND IN THE MAKING.

A warrior with nothing to fight for is paired with a thieving assassin with nothing to lose. Together they must steal a treasure that no one can reach. The Crown Tower is the impregnable remains of the grandest fortress ever built and home to the realm’s most valuable possessions. But it isn’t gold or jewels the old wizard is after, and this prize can only be obtained by the combined talents of two remarkable men. Now if Arcadias can just keep Hadrian and Royce from killing each other, they just might succeed.

Sullivan begins The Crown Tower before his protagonists have met and allows the reader to spend quite a bit of time with Hadrian before he begins his association with Royce. This was a inspired choice, giving readers time to soak up the difference between this younger, and surprisingly even more idealistic version of the character they have grown to love. This becomes very important as the easy familiarity and friendship between the warrior and assassin are nowhere to be found in this volume. Sullivan doesn't take the easy route to establish the character's partnership. This is far less about their first adventure than it is about the process of forging the bond between them. The sparks fly and there is plenty of bickering replacing the banter of the Riyria Revelations. In a lot of ways the snark is even more entertaining when there  is real vehemence behind it, but the sense of humor that underlies it all hints at the partnership that readers know is coming. Sullivan does an excellent job of showing why these two loners need each other and how the pairing of their skills and world views will strengthen and eventually redeem them both.

Sullivan also structures the story so that it can be read either as the beginning of the series or in the order of publication. There are benefits to both approaches, as Sullivan seeds the narrative with nods to the events of his previous novels. These tips of the hat, give the long time reader a sense of being in on the process, and they rarely feel forced. Newer readers who approach the series through the prequel novels first ,will benefit of seeing the pay off, with Sullivan's careful attention to not spoil the tension and big reveals of the later books with his nods to his legions of fans.

Sullivan also introduces Gwen DeLancey as a point of view characters for the first time in The Crown Tower. With the majority of the female protagonists not appearing until much later in the series' timelines, it makes perfect sense that Gwen would be used in such a way. This choice also adds depth to a well loved supporting character and makes Gwen's later relationship to one of our heroes make much better sense. These sections were some of my favorites, not just because of the newness of them but due to expert way that Sullivan portrays Gwen. Though she starts the novel as a prostitute in a hole of a brothel, she never lacks agency and Sullivan handles the more adult themes of her circumstances with a touch that is light, but yet not so squeaky clean as to become unrealistic. Gwen is just as much the hero of her story as Royce and Hadrian and the fact that she stays far removed from their exploits only strengthens her as a compelling protagonist. I certainly am looking forward to more of her story in the rapidly approaching The Rose and the Thorn.

The Crown Tower is Sullivan doing what he does best. As I've said in other reviews of Sullivan's work, if you are looking for a return to the fantasy of your youth that manages to still feel relevant without burying itself in the grit and blood of Abercrombie, Martin, or Morgan, then you should look no further. Snappy banter, desperate stakes, pulse pounding sword play, and good old fashioned heroics are all on full display here. Everything you've come to expect from the adventures of Hadrian and Royce is contained within the pages and with the addition of Gwen's chapters there is a richness that I certainly wouldn't have expected in what so easily could have been a "cash cow" add on to a beloved series. I hope that there are many more novels to fill in the twelve year gap between The Crown Tower and Theft of Swords, especially if they are half as good as this one.

Three by Jay Posey

Post apocalyptic novels have fascinated me since I first read Stephen King’s The Stand, What can I say? There is something about watching the collapse of society as we know it and the trials and tribulations of characters as they navigate their way in a drastically changed environment. Jay Posey’s debut novel, Three, has little in common with King’s magnum opus on its face, though I would say that it falls into a subset of the post apocalyptic genre. Posey does share with King an ability to inject his prose with a strong sense of place and characters that linger in the minds of the reader long after the last page is closed. Those attributes coupled with sparsely elegant prose make Three an exciting offering from a debut author that fans of the genre would do well to keep their eyes upon.

The publisher’s back copy follows:

The world has collapsed, and there are no heroes any more.But when a lone gunman reluctantly accepts the mantel of protector to a young boy and his dying mother against the forces that pursue them, a hero may yet arise.

It’s sparse to be fair, but it gets the point across. Three is the story of a loner, surviving by his wits and strength on the fringes of a world destroyed by an unknown apocalypse that has left the world plagued by what appear to be a sci-fi riff on zombies called The Weir as he finds himself saddled with a mother and child on the run from persons unknown and the change he sees in himself when he finally allows himself a respite from his self inflicted solitude. Will accepting the mantle of protector and hero cost him his life in the process, and is that possible sacrifice worth the risk of letting himself feel again?

Posey’s narrative is full of mystery, and most of the questions genre fans will want answered are left either completely unanswered or only given the lightest of attention. This approach is likely to leave readers either impressed with the subtle world building and exposition or frustrated with the almost absolute lack of answers. Personally, I was impressed by Posey’s minimalistic style, finding an elegant bleakness to his prose. Posey leaves much to the reader’s imagination, only providing what is vital and necessary to the tale he wishes to tell. Readers who want in depth explanations to every facet of the setting will be sorely disappointed, but those looking for a character centered tale of sacrifice, heroism, and the warming a stony heart should look no further.

Posey’s protagonist, the enigmatic Three, whose name provides the novel’s title is an obvious heroic stereotype; a mercilessly efficient survivor, possessing skills almost unparalleled in the setting, but it’s not these features that make him compelling. It’s his humanity rather than his superhuman competence that speaks most clearly from the page. Three is a man who has avoided human connection, finding himself endangered not just physically but emotionally as he takes up a role of protector and guardian to the ailing Cass and her surprisingly gifted son Wren. Three’s gradual return to empathy and community is the real point of the story in my mind. No man, no matter how exceptional, can remain alone and find meaning in his life.

Posey also manages to write Wren, a young boy of six years just as convincingly, reminding me of writers such as King and Martin who are often lauded for their ability to portray children well. Wren is an exceptional child, with gifts he neither understands nor can control, but Posey manages to write him with a complex mixture of innocence and matter of fact weariness that makes tugs at the reader’s heart strings. His bond with Three will bring a smile to fathers and step-fathers everywhere.

Posey’s experience as a game designer shows itself primarily in his action sequences which are well choreographed and rife with dismemberments and broken bones. There is a casual brutality to these scenes and it fits well with both the characters and the setting. In a world where the dead prowl the night with glowing eyes, there is no room for sentimentality and survival by any means is the only rule that matters. But even with action aplenty, Three is a novel about redemption and the return to humanity and Posey injects every character interaction with meaning and pathos to spare.

In conclusion, Posey has delivered a tale that despite its minimalist approach to world building and exposition has real depth of character and resonance when it could easily have been nothing more than exercise in over the top action scenes, and post apocalyptic set dressing. With more volumes to come in this series, I look forward to see where Posey takes us next, and I’m confident that Three will find itself included in many ‘Best of’ lists by years end.

Under the Empyrean Sky by Chuck Wendig

I first heard of Chuck Wendig's YA novel, Under the Empyrean Sky in the interview I conducted with Chuck after reviewing The Blue Blazes. This is what Chuck had to say about it:

Under the Empyrean Sky, which is my young adult novel in a sunny dustbowl cornpunk future where a scrappy scavenger named Cael finds a secret forbidden garden in a world where their floating Empyrean overlords only allow them to grow a bloodthirsty variant of corn. It's got young love and adventure and piss-blizzards and motorvators and an agricultural pro-farmer pro-food message nestled in all the trappings. John Hornor Jacobs called it Of Mice and Men meets Star Wars, which I quite like.

So I have to be honest, I scoffed at the description, thinking there was no way that Wendig could pull of a novel targeted at a less than mature audience, and wasn't so sure about 'bloodthirsty corn' either. But when I found the title on Netgalley, I just had to give it a run. And, boy was I glad I did. Under the Empyrean Sky is everything that makes YA a powerhouse genre, a coming of age story that resonates with its audience while posing bigger questions for the cross over crowd. There is pathos, mystery, action, and a healthy dose of the bare knuckle prose that makes Wendig such a draw for me. This is no Hunger Games clone, Under the Empyrean Sky brings to mind both the classics like The Grapes of Wrath and mines the Hero monomyth with a rakish glee producing a hybrid much like the aforementioned corn; bloodthirsty and relentless.

We've seen Chuck's pitch for the novel, but lets take a look at the back copy before we move on.

Corn is king in the Heartland, and Cael McAvoy has had enough of it. It's the only crop the Empyrean government allows the people of the Heartland to grow and the genetically modified strain is so aggressive that it takes everything the Heartlanders have just to control it. As captain of the Big Sky Scavengers, Cael and his crew sail their rickety ship over the corn day after day, scavenging for valuables, trying to earn much-needed ace notes for their families. But Cael's tired of surviving life on the ground while the Empyrean elite drift by above in their extravagant sky flotillas. He's sick of the mayor's son besting Cael's crew in the scavenging game. And he's worried about losing Gwennie ? his first mate and the love of his life forever when their government-chosen spouses are revealed. But most of all, Cael is angry, angry that their lot in life will never get better and that his father doesn't seem upset about any of it. Cael's ready to make his own luck . . . even if it means bringing down the wrath of the Empyrean elite and changing life in the Heartland forever.

Wendig is obviously aware of the market trends toward dystopian YA novels, as much of the skeletal structure of the novel follows the formula. The stereotypical  oppressive government, teen aged protagonists, the beginnings of a love triangle, and the call to arms to fight the rule of the oppressors are all present here. But Wendig wisely turns it on its head, tackling real world issues that may seem too adult for the projected audience. Questions about the control and manipulation of the food that we put into our bodies and the long term effects of monkeying about with Mother Nature are front and center tied closely to the novel's worldbuilding. There are other social issues at play as well, but are much more tangential in this first novel, though I suspect that may change in subsequent volumes. But all of this social activism is handled deftly, with precious little preaching going on, either from the characters or exposition. Social issues may be a thread in the tapestry but Cael's journey for independence and freedom  is the focus and that is where the story shines.

Cael McAvoy is the epitome of a sixteen year old boy, surly with a complete disregard for authority, capable of both incredible kindness and callous indifference to the feelings of others. Self absorbed is the term that comes immediately to mind, but having been a sixteen year old boy I felt an immediate sense of authenticity to the portrayal. Wendig wisely uses the events of the story to soften the edges of his protagonist, giving both Cael and the reader the sense that Cael's world and the people in it don't fit as neatly into the preconceived boxes the sixteen year old might think. By the end of the novel, there is little doubt that Cael is poised on the brink of his true journey into manhood.

The other characters are equally well drawn and Wendig eventually shifts the point of view in such a way as to illuminate these secondary characters even more fully. Both genders get equal time to shine, with Wendig's portrayal of Cael's love interest showing particular maturity and depth without losing the naivete of youth.  I have a feeling that Gwennie Shawcatch will play a major role in later books and can't wait to see what adventures Wendig has in store for her. Cael sister, Merelda is also someone that I'm looking forward to sharing more time with. She gets just enough time in the novel to remain a pleasant cipher readers will look forward to unravelling.

But the real selling point of Under the Empyrean Sky for me was the fantastic job Wendig does of walking the line between the demands of the YA market and the reality of being sixteen. Too many YA books I've read stray so far toward the squeaky clean, that I wonder if the publishers have any idea what it is like to be a teenager. Wendig obviously hasn't forgotten. There is sex, profanity, and senseless bullying. It may not be as gloriously over the top as what Wendig's audience may have grown to expect after books like The Blue Blazes and Blackbirds, but it is there. Even in a YA novel, Wendig manages to still write in a way that doesn't castrate the voice that he's so well known for. He may have tidied it up a bit, but his touch on the pages is unmistakable. And that was the highlight of the experience for me. Seeing one of my favorite authors do something I didn't think they could pull off. In cases like this, I love being wrong.

Under the Empyrean Sky delivers on all levels with a cast of rich characters, a setting that seems limitless in possibility, a message that rides confidently beneath the current of the story and a real understanding of what it is to stand between being a child and an adult, complete with the requisite indecision and ugliness of youth. There's action, adventure, and even a bit of romance in this tale and I'm looking forward to the next installment in the Heartland Trilogy. And I've learned not to scoff at the plans of the incredibly versitile Chuck Wendig.

Gameboard of the Gods by Richelle Mead

Richelle Mead apparently has quite a following. Having discovered Gameboard of the Gods on Netgalley, I did a little research and found out about Mead's other works, falling squarely in the paranormal romance/urban fantasy category along with her young adult offerings. The reviews were very positive and the publisher's blurb sounded promising, so I bit. The meal was more fast food than fine dining, largely empty calories but flavorful nonetheless.

The back cover copy follows:

In a futuristic world nearly destroyed by religious extremists, Justin March lives in exile after failing in his job as an investigator of religious groups and supernatural claims. But Justin is given a second chance when Mae Koskinen comes to bring him back to the Republic of United North America (RUNA). Raised in an aristocratic caste, Mae is now a member of the military’s most elite and terrifying tier, a soldier with enhanced reflexes and skills.

When Justin and Mae are assigned to work together to solve a string of ritualistic murders, they soon realize that their discoveries have exposed them to terrible danger. As their investigation races forward, unknown enemies and powers greater than they can imagine are gathering in the shadows, ready to reclaim the world in which humans are merely game pieces on their board.

Sounds pretty promising doesn't it? And for the most part, Mead delivers on that promise. The 'uptopian' world that she's created for her characters is intriguing and poses some thoughtful questions about what happens when religion is outlawed. Sadly those questions get short shrift in favor of world-building and the obligatory romantic entanglements between our two main protagonists.

With that said, there is still plenty to like about Mead's first foray into a new subgenre. The pairing of the super analytical Justin March, with the genetically superior and technologically enhanced soldier Mae is a welcome one, with a faint shadow of Holmes and Watson running throughout. Both are conflicted but obviously destined for each other, due not only to authorial fiat but the actual will of meddling gods. Not that either March or Mae make the pairing especially easy, fighting the magnetism between them almost every step of the way. As far as romantic subplots go, Mead crafts one that is compelling enough that it outweighed my general dislike of the trope. That's no small feat, and I was pleasantly surprised. It's ironic that the aspect of the story that I expected to like the least ended up being the highlight of the novel for me.

Which brings me to the parts of the novel that left me wanting better. While I really like the premise of the novel and the interesting questions such a setting asks of the characters and the society, I felt that the exploration of the setting left something to be desired. While there was no real info dumping, and Mead does an excellent job of showing rather than telling, I felt the world building could have been better explained through the narrative. All the puzzle pieces are there, but they don't quite fit together into a coherent picture.Most of that is the delayed pace that Mead uses to deliver important information about nearly everything. She just throws it at you, and you are left to wonder until she gets around to explaining it, sometimes after a hundred pages have gone by.

In addition, I felt that the murder investigation should have been the focus of the storytelling, but was really nothing more than a vehicle for the romance of March and Mae. There was so much more that could have been explored that was sadly left on the shelf. It seems that everything took a back seat to the romance, and that weakened what could have otherwise been a much better novel. Sex sells, I get that, but there needs to be more, and Mead teases us with hints of what could be a very compelling series, but never quite gets there.

No Return by Zachary Jernigan

Continuing my trend of genre bending novels and stretching my boundaries as a reader, I approached Zachary Jernigan's debut novel, No Return with no small degree of trepidation. Its compelling cover and back copy coupled with Night Shade Book's reputation for finding excellent new authors, I was excited at the prospect and simultaneously puzzled. Is this fantasy or science fiction, or some hybrid of the two? As it turns out the answer to that question is irrelevant in the face of Jernigan's powerful examination of faith, lust, and personal responsibility.

On Jeroun, there is no question as to whether God exists—only what his intentions are.

Under the looming judgment of Adrash and his ultimate weapon—a string of spinning spheres beside the moon known as The Needle—warring factions of white and black suits prove their opposition to the orbiting god with the great fighting tournament of Danoor, on the far side of Jeroun’s only inhabitable continent.

From the Thirteenth Order of Black Suits comes Vedas, a young master of martial arts, laden with guilt over the death of one of his students. Traveling with him are Churls, a warrior woman and mercenary haunted by the ghost of her daughter, and Berun, a constructed man made of modular spheres possessed by the foul spirit of his creator. Together they must brave their own demons, as well as thieves, mages, beasts, dearth, and hardship on the perilous road to Danoor, and the bloody sectarian battle that is sure to follow.

On the other side of the world, unbeknownst to the travelers, Ebn and Pol of the Royal Outbound Mages (astronauts using Alchemical magic to achieve space flight) have formed a plan to appease Adrash and bring peace to the planet. But Ebn and Pol each have their own clandestine agendas—which may call down the wrath of the very god they hope to woo.

Who may know the mind of God? And who in their right mind would seek to defy him?

I have to be honest; I struggled with No Return, almost setting it aside to dive into familiar, more comfortable worlds. Jernigan has crafted a complex and original world in Jeroun. With Adrash orbiting Jeroun holding the entire planet hostage to his capricious judgment for eons, a variety of races and religions have developed. In this sandbox, Jernigan sets no limits on his creativity. Jeroun is a diverse and complex place with the long dead elders, an alien-esque race whose remains have become the basis for the world's economy and a powerful weapon in the hands of two diametrically opposed religious sects whose violent confrontations over the supremacy of god or man are the tent pole of the main plot. Adding to the exotic flavor of the setting are magical constructs, half breeds with powerful magic and strange physiology that use these gifts to slip the bonds of earth to better understand their aloof and terrible god. Jeroun is a complex cocktail of the familiar and the strange with a dash of audacity for an extra bite.

Jernigan's characters are equally complex and well drawn. Even the more alien of the principle characters are rich with conflict and depth, Ebn and Pol are master mages who both consumed by their insatiable lust both for flesh and for power. As utterly inhuman as their physiology and politics are, their motivations are so intensely relatable I could myself forgetting their alien nature, at least until tongues start slipping out of their palms. Jernigan's absolute refusal to shy away from the violence, sex, or any other topic that might make his reader uncomfortable makes for characters that are reflections of us, rather than mere caricatures. The rest of Jernigan's cast is just as diverse and complicated.

The trio of Berun, Churls, and Vedas is a refreshing break from genre tropes. Vedas, for all of his martial prowess, is uncomfortable in his own skin, more boy than man. Berun is similarly childlike, struggling to find his own identity away from the control of his creator. The most realized of the group is Churls, haunted by her past and full of violence, vice, and lust. The relationships that develop between these travelers is excellently handled, developing naturally over the course of their adventures with a point of view chapters for each well balanced against the others. The amount of character growth that takes place in this slim volume is astounding, which each taking stock of their place in the world and taking steps to assert their own independence.

Jernigan's combat sequences are vicious and unflinching, as are the sex scenes that are liberally sprinkled through the narrative. There are moments where I was taken aback by the directness and candor of these scenes, but true to life sex and violence are often disturbing and uncomfortable by turns. Jernigan leaves it all on the field every time, showing absolutely no timidity at any topic no matter how bloody or sweaty it may be.

The only complaint I have is that the twin storylines never really manage to converge in a meaningful way until the very end of the novel, and I felt a strong sense of disconnection that made reading some segments an exercise in perseverance. Jernigan manages to pull it all together nicely in the end, even adding a coda that explains the enigmatic Adrash's role in a possible sequel. With the collapse of Night Shade Books, I'm not certain if we will see a return to Jeroun, but I am certain that what ever Jernigan's next project might be that I'll be in its audience.

Promise of Blood by Brian McClellan

My relationship with Promise of Blood is complicated in the way teen aged love affairs are complicated. Let me explain. I've been eyeing McClellan's debut from the first time I heard about Brent Weeks calling it "flintlock" fantasy and thus got my first look at the cover and blurb. Sounds promising right? Well like those aloof unattainable ladies of my teen aged years, Promise of Blood just wouldn't look back. I entered contest after contest, emailed the publisher, searched Net Galley to no avail. Then insult came to visit and added to my injury. A close friend had won a signed ARC! The nerve, the betrayal. But I was steadfast, finally managing to get a copy from NetGalley on release day. The object of my affections was mine. So what's the end of the story you say? Well, to put it like I might have 25 years ago. She's just as pretty as I thought. We had a good time, but I just don't know. Will I take her out the next chance I get? You bet your sweet ass.

And the blurb that started this mess:

The Age of Kings is dead . . . and I have killed it.

It's a bloody business overthrowing a king...Field Marshal Tamas' coup against his king sent corrupt aristocrats to the guillotine and brought bread to the starving. But it also provoked war with the Nine Nations, internal attacks by royalist fanatics, and the greedy to scramble for money and power by Tamas's supposed allies: the Church, workers unions, and mercenary forces.

It's up to a few...Stretched to his limit, Tamas is relying heavily on his few remaining powder mages, including the embittered Taniel, a brilliant marksman who also happens to be his estranged son, and Adamat, a retired police inspector whose loyalty is being tested by blackmail.

But when gods are involved...Now, as attacks batter them from within and without, the credulous are whispering about omens of death and destruction. Just old peasant legends about the gods waking to walk the earth. No modern educated man believes that sort of thing. But they should...

Pretty shapely little package, isn't it. Well have no fear, McClellan delivers on the promise of the concept and the fantastic cover. Promise of Blood is exactly what you'd expect, an action packed thriller full of bullets, bad-assess, and blood. But rated PG-13, like all teen aged girl-friends should be.

All kidding aside, McClellan tells an engaging story, with a surprisingly diverse cast (in most cases), multiple intriguing magic systems, and a pleasant mix of action, mystery, and old school fantasy. All of this set in an historical time period (albeit, a fantasy equivalent) that gets scarcely any love from the genre. It's a compelling setting too, with the tension of not only the political revolution but also a magical and industrial one. Those forces power the majority of the conflict in the novel, no battle ground left unsurveyed. There is plenty of military action, political espionage, gods, monsters and enough magical fireworks that you just might think it is Bastille Day.

That's where McClellan really shines. It's no coincidence at all that McClellan, as a former student of Brandon Sanderson, delivers a variety of intricate and well designed magical abilities for his characters to play with. It would be easy to write off McClellan as Sanderson 2.0, but that would be a mistake. While McClellan's powder mages do seem to be a slightly different take on the Allomantic coinshots from Sanderson's Mistborn novels, the pitting of this type of magic against the aristocratic elemental magic of the Privileged takes the mechanical and turns into something more thematic. The fact that gunpowder is also addictive, and one of the main viewpoint characters is definitely in the need of a step or twelve is another nice touch. There's even more magic at play as well. Lesser magical abilities such as the ability go without sleep indefinitely are possessed by another group called the Knacked, and there is the mysterious magic of the savage Ka-Poel and a mad god or two thrown in for good measure.  As settings go, this is one of the more interesting ones I've encountered in the category of epic-fantasy in quite a while.

His character choices are an interesting mix as well. With Field Marshall Tamas and the investigator Adamat both well beyond the age of the typical farm boy protagonist, McClellan manages to make compelling action heroes of both older men without resorting to stereotypical over the hill Hollywood style. Tamas is no Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven, though I can detect an older, wiser Russell Crowe in Gladiator. Adamat is wisely more Watson than Holmes, but his dogged investigations prove to be a wonderful vehicle that McClellan uses to avoid heavy handed info-dumping. It's interesting that the most stereotypical character of the cast, Tamas' son, the legendary Taniel Two Shot, leaves me the coldest. McClellan packs his story line with interesting threads, the betrayal that ended his engagement, his strained relationship with his father, his growing attraction to the mute savage Ka-Poel, and his struggles with powder addiction and more. But try as I might, I always longed for more of the Tamas and Adamat viewpoints. Perhaps there was just too much going on in Taniel's chapters for any one element to really take hold. I'm not sure, but I hope that Taniel's chapters sharpen their focus in the sequel.

The only real miss I can find in McClellan's choices thus far has been in the almost complete lack of female voices in the novel. There is one small female focused point of view in the novel, that of Nila, a laundress who  has lost everything as a result of Tamas' coup in the early chapters. I felt that Nila's chapters were under used and developed in comparison to the male centered counterparts. I suspect that could be a result of fear of getting it wrong, a criticism often leveled at epic fantasy writers in the post GRRM era.  But I think McClellan would do well to face that fear head on. After all, he's placed several compelling female characters with definite agency in the background. Here's hoping we see some of them at the forefront with the boys in McClellan's sequel, The Crimson Campaign.

The action is well handled, with McClellan turning in the same kind of bullet time worthy fight scenes that you would expect from a Brett, Weeks, or Sanderson. I think a little more grit would do the writing some good, anchoring it more in the smoke and bloody faces of revolution, if you will. But that's nothing more than a matter of preference. The pacing falters later in the novel, losing the tension between the increasing action of some threads against the more sedentary pace of others. Something I have no doubt will improve as McClellan gains his own balance as an up and coming writer to watch.

McClellan's reputation as a fantasist to watch is well deserved. Promise of Blood has a lot going for it. Easy on the eyes, great personality, and can cut a rug with the best of them. I'm not convinced she's quite ready to take home to meet the parents, but I'll definitely be asking for a second and probably a third date. You never know she might just be a keeper.

The Blue Blazes by Chuck Wendig

Chuck Wendig has been on the periphery of my to read list for a while. I'll admit, I'd mentally placed him in the same category as Richard Kadrey, whose Sandman Slim I'd enjoyed, but decided against devoting anymore time to. Grindhouse urban fantasy just isn't my thing. I probably wouldn't have ventured into Wendig's fiction, if I hadn't run across a EARC on Netgalley. After deciding to give The Blue Blazes a run, I'm happy to report that Chuck Wendig has a new fan. The easiest way to describe The Blue Blazes is to imagine Sin City after doing an 8-ball of mystic cocaine. I know that makes no sense, but Wendig's blend of pulp noir sensibilities with an interesting take on urban fantasy tropes defies conventional description. Unless awesome is descriptive enough for you.

The publisher's blurb is pretty basic, but I'm including it because it echoes Wendig's writing style fairly well.

Meet Mookie Pearl.

Criminal underworld? He runs in it.

Supernatural underworld? He hunts in it.

Nothing stops Mookie when he's on the job.

But when his daughter takes up arms and opposes him, something's gotta give...

Wendig's protagonist, Mookie Pearl is cut from the same cloth as other noir heroes, but the closest comparison that comes to mind for me is Warden from Daniel Polanski's Lowtown. These two are no choirboys, both violent and conflicted men with complicated histories. But unlike Warden, Mookie is actually a very sympathetic character. I wouldn't go so far as to say he has a heart of gold, but Wendig does an excellent job of showing that even the brutal and vile among us, still have families and people that they love. In spite of his violent nature, Mookie is a character that readers can cheer for. He may be a leg breaker and a poor excuse for a father, but he tries and there is value in the attempt.

The secondary cast is also well drawn, especially Mookie's wayward daughter Nora. Her tough as nails facade is deeply rooted in her psychology and Wendig does an excellent job making her far more three dimesional than she initially appears. The other denizens of Wendig's fictional New York are as varied and unique as you would expect, if a bit more outrageous in response to a world were goblins and naga prowl the streets in human guises. Between low level mobsters, roller-derby themed gang members, city maintenance workers, and an undead stunt driver Wendig keeps the cast well rounded and always entertaining.

The pacing is just short of break neck, but Wendig gives readers a well placed moment or two to catch their breath. But don't be shocked to find yourself reading well into the night. The action sequences are bombastic, brutal set pieces that leave the surrounding landscape in reduced to gleefully described rubble. It's all a hair's breadth from over the top, but Wendig manages never to lean on the gas enough to send the story into a tail spin. It's a blancing act to keep from slipping into parody  but Wendig manages it deftly.

The plotting is a bit predictable at times, but Wendig overcomes that with the character and panache of his prose, and the insightful characterization of his principle cast. I may have seen some of the concluding plot threads coming, due to Wendig's own foreshadowing, but the emotional resonance of those moments was no less palpable with foreknowledge.

As I've said, the real star of The Blue Blazes is the prose. Wendig writes with blunt force choreography, full of brutally disturbing descriptions, and wrecking ball action. Noir sensibilities are in full force here, and Wendig uses them brilliantly to craft a portrait of a New York that is at the same time instantly recognizable and disturbingly alien.  The staccato rhythm of Wendig's prose fits beautifully with the story he tells, and I've rarely seen such an usual voice used so effectively.

Fans of noir fantasy and urban fantasy with a bleeding edge should definitely explore the world of The Blue Blazes. I'll definitely be checking out Wendig's back catalog while I wait anxiously on a possible continuation of Mookie and Nora's dysfunctional family drama.

14 by Peter Clines

I've always enjoyed Peter Clines' work, finding his Ex-Heroes and Ex-Patriots to be wildly entertaining mash-ups of the post-apocalytic, horror, and superhero genres. So when I found this title on Netgalley for free, I snatched it up. It's a bit of a departure from Cline's previous work, but as a long time fan of Stephen King, I found the premise interesting.

Padlocked doors. Strange light fixtures. Mutant cockroaches.

There are some odd things about Nate’s new apartment. 

Of course, he has other things on his mind. He hates his job. He has no money in the bank. No girlfriend. No plans for the future. So while his new home isn’t perfect, it’s livable. The rent is low, the property managers are friendly, and the odd little mysteries don’t nag at him too much. 

At least, not until he meets Mandy, his neighbor across the hall, and notices something unusual about her apartment. And Xela’s apartment. And Tim’s. And Veek’s. 

Because every room in this old Los Angeles brownstone has a mystery or two. Mysteries that stretch back over a hundred years. Some of them are in plain sight. Some are behind locked doors. And all together these mysteries could mean the end of Nate and his friends. 

Or the end of everything...

I think the biggest challenge to reviewing 14 effectively is avoiding spoilers. So much of the action and plot of the story is tied to its many mysteries, that to seperate them makes such examination largely meaningless. There have been comparissons to Lost and these are apt, though I also see similarities to other standout genre shows such as Sanctuary and Warehouse 13. There are secrets, both great and small in almost every aspect of the story, from the motivations of Clines' large cast of characters, to the mysteries of the Kavach building and its history. Much like Lost there is a strong current of misdirection as some mysteries that may seem important are more for flavor than any real plot movement. But the sheer amount of questions and speculation that Clines wrings from the reader are a testament to his skills as a writer.

But the mystery elements are not Clines' only strength. His characterization is the main draw. 14 has a fairly sprawling cast, and Clines gives us a very clear and detailed characterization of each. The banter between characters and the romantic subplots are handled with a deft touch.  The realism of these portrayals help ground the otherworldly and often bizarre revelations that are a result of the slow reveal of the building's mysterious purpose.

Being so familiar with the frenetic pacing of Clines' other work, the slower pace of 14 was distracting at first, but the growing suspense as more and more mysteries were answered more than made up for the slower build up. And the last third of the novel definitely stepped on the gas, delivering higher stakes and tension.

In the last fourth of the novel, things take a Lovecraftian turn, and Clines almost lost me. I've never been a big Cthulu fan, but his care in character developments kept me engaged despite my misgivings about his choice of principle antagonists. I'm glad I stayed with it, because the closing sequences were particularly satisfying for me and tease at the possibilty for further exploration of the Kavach building and its residents.

While I enjoyed Ex-Heroes and Ex-Heroes more, I can't deny that Clines knows how to tell a compelling horror story. His gift for characterization makes up for any reticence I felt with regards to other elements of the tale, and I'd definitely come back for more. If you are a fan of big mysteries, full of more questions than answers, then 14 is not a book you should miss. Clines crafts a compelling mystery, populated with characters that feel like the neighbors you wish you had. Think Friends meets The Outer Limits without the laugh track.