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.

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.

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.

Blackbirds by Chuck Wendig

My love for Chuck Wendig is a new-fangled thing. It sparkles like a freshly minted coin. On the heels of reading his excellent new novel The Blue Blazes and the blast I had interviewing him not long after the review went live, I snatched up a copy of the first of the Miriam Black novels, Blackbirds with a promise to not crack the cover until I'd whittled down the books waiting in my Netgalley account. But Miriam Black just kept staring at me from the nightstand, whispering "You know you want to.." in my ear, night after night. I did a fine job of resisting until one night about a week ago, when I decided I'd just take a look at the first chapter. Big mistake. Miriam Black had me hooked by the lip by page five.

Synopsis:

Miriam Black knows when you will die.

She’s foreseen hundreds of car crashes, heart attacks, strokes, and suicides.

But when Miriam hitches a ride with Louis Darling and shakes his hand, she sees that in thirty days Louis will be murdered while he calls her name. Louis will die because he met her, and she will be the next victim.

No matter what she does she can’t save Louis. But if she wants to stay alive, she’ll have to try.

Blackbirds is vintage Wendig in every way. The novel feels like the bastard child of Tarantino's True Romance and Stephen King's The Dead Zone; an unflinchingly brutal road trip, disturbingly familiar underneath its otherworldly strangeness. This is a lushly profane novel with characters careening off one another in a twisted violent ballet of their own violence and vulnerability. If you came to the table thinking this is something akin to Mercy Thompson or Sookie Stackhouse, you'd better step slowly away from Miriam Black and try not to make any sudden movements. Psychic talent aside, Black has as much in common with Sookie Stackhouse as Amy Winehouse has with Annette Funicello. And that's the twisted genius of Wendig at work.

Miriam Black carries the novel on her weary cocksure shoulders, swearing like a sailor as she chain smokes her way through the narrative. Describing Wendig's protagonist in such simple terms may give a false impression though. Black is far more than that caricature allows. With an upbringing eerily similar to that of Carrie White, from the King novel that bears her name, Miriam reacts to series of traumas that leave her with a burden that removes the comfort of human touch and saddles her with a knowledge that is certain to haunt her. Knowing the intimate moments of death of any person she touches changes her into a tragic hero, a broken and defiant figure trying desperately to survive in a world filled with solitude and the ever present pall of mortality. And it's that vulnerability and Black's defiance of her 'curse' that makes her such a compelling protagonist, dragging readers in her wake full of hope that she'll find away to cope with the brutality of her circumstances with nothing more than bad attitude and a flea market butterfly knife.

Wendig does an excellent job grounding Miriam's tale with an atmosphere perfectly suited to the particular brand of story he's shilling. Miriam ricochets along a snarled chain of abandoned warehouses, grimy roadside hotels, murder scenes, and out of the way kill rooms. There is a stark discomforting familiarity to these locales, like a trash choked gutter best turned away from lest you stare too long and see something moving in the offal. And the other characters that populate this landscape are just as disconcerting, broken, damaged and often deranged, willing victims of their own psychology. No character is left without pathos, even if it's only by the smallest scrap. Some are horrifyng in their brutality, others heartbreakingly sympathetic as they are swept along in the crazed current of Miriam Black, twenty-something harbinger of death. I dare to say that at least one of these characters will live in the mind of any reader long after the final page is turned.

The action sequences in Blackbirds are a far cry from the bombastic gleeful slug fests that I loved so much in The Blue Blazes, but Wendig still knocks it out of the park in a completely different direction. The violence is matter of fact, unapologetic, and sickeningly brutal in the way only the mentally damaged and dispossessed can be. There is a loosening of social mores and inhibitions in the trailer park, truck stop, and roadkill strewn highways of the Miriam's stomping grounds, and it permeates the easy violence with it's casual indifference until Wendig turns up the volume and then the horror of human cruelty stuns you like an axe handle between the eyes.

In conclusion, I cannot recommend Blackbirds enough. Fans of The Blue Blazes will find just enough of Wendig's unmistakable voice to feel comfortable while ride along with the unforgettable Miriam Black as she smokes, curses and rages her way into the dark and warm center of their hearts. I'll be keeping my newly acquired copy of Mockingbird in a drawer so I can get some other reading done.

Zoo City by Lauren Beukes

t's safe to say that my tastes as a reader are changing because of this blog.  In my pre-blogging days, my reading followed the same well worn and predictable path. The mix was fairly predictable; epic fantasy, urban fantasy, with an occasional highly recommended curiosity thrown in for flavor's sake. Well those days are over, with books like The Troupe, The Blue Blazes, The Lives of Tao, and now Zoo City taking over my reading space.

Zoo City is one of those rare novels that instantly adds the author to my 'must read' list. Lauren Beukes packs her sophomore novel with wildly vivid metaphors and prose that pops with a unique mix of desolate beauty. Add the unique pastiche of genre trappings ranging from literary fiction, crime thriller, and magical realism and the resulting novel is a beautiful monster that defies easy classification.

Since the back copy does a poor job of impressing the particulars of Beukes' setting I'll extrapolate a bit. Zinzi is a 'zoo', a criminal mystically saddled with a animal companion as a penance for her crime. She and her sloth are bound until death, and more important her status as a Zoo has removed her from her life of relative privilege and dropped her square into the squalor of Zoo City. The only upside to being animalled is her 'mushavi', a magical talent for finding lost things. Zinzi uses her ability to earn a meager living, while paying off her debt to her former criminal associates using her journalistic talents writing letters for their 419 scams. When a client dies mysteriously, Zinzi is a suspect and without a paycheck. This causes her to take a missing person's case, tracking down one half of a teen-pop duo for their eccentric producer. This task quickly embroils Zinzi in a complex web of corruption, magic, and intrigue. 

Beukes' first hand knowledge of her setting, Johannesburg South Africa and her experience as a journalist are in full display from the opening chapters. While Zinizi December is the defined protagonist of the story, with the entirety of the novel being told from her perspective, I would say that Zoo City itself is Beukes' most important and fully realized character. Since Zinzi is animalled, and automatically considered a second class citizen and pushed to the fringes of society, Beukes is focused on the seedy underbelly of her alternate Jo-burg. And she pulls absolutely no punches, never flinching from the despair, poverty, and pall of hopelessness that hangs over the marginalized fringe that reside within its borders.

Beukes shows a deft hand with characters as well. Zinzi December is everything I am not. African, female, criminal, addict, etc, and yet I came to not only understand but identify with her quest to re-imagine herself and to take her life in a completely new direction. With all the talk about writing strong female characters that is bandied about the internet, one could easily point to Zinzi as an example of what the genre needs. Zinzi December is complicated, conflicted, capable, cunning, foolish, flawed, and fierce. She is not a collection of 'kick ass female' archetypes, and Beukes never tries to turn her into action hero with breasts. And Zoo City is better for it. 

Beukes brings her journalistic chops to the forefront in the form of chapters that mine background information from newspaper and magazine articles, emails, and even YouTube videos and their comments. These asides while disconnecting the reader from the narrative voice of Zinzi's point of view, really do add a level of realism and richness to the novel that far outweighs the possible inconvenience to the reader.

Zoo City is full of narrative distractions. Beukes fills the pages with smaller character moments between Zinzi and various other denizens of the urban sprawl she calls home, as well as a wide variety of other characters from both her former life, and those she encounters during her investigation. Frequently I found myself wondering if all of Zinzi's meandering was ever going to arrive somewhere, while simultaneously finding myself entralled with her astonishing use of metaphor and concisely poetic prose.

They say, and rightly so, that the destination is far less important than the journey one takes to arrive. Zoo City could have been a fine example of this principle if Beukes had failed to deliver on the unspoken promise of her setting and characters. The final fourth of the novel is a breakneck demolition derby of adrenaline and anxiety as all the players collide and all is revealed much to the reader and Zinzi's surprise.

While Beukes layers more than a little social commentary into the narrative but it never takes away from the novel or preaches. These elements are part and parcel to the culture of Beukes imagined Jo-burg and are as ever present as the drug dealers and animalled prostitutes. They are setting more than story, with Zinzi’s personal journey to steer her life in a new direction against a society that is determined to keep her in a neatly zoo-labeled box. Zoo City and Beukes seem to be on a similar trajectory, tearing off genre labels and setting out into unexplored territory. That journey is one that lovers of nuanced and beautifully crafted fiction would be wise to undertake, especially in Beukes’ capable hands.

The Lives of Tao by Wesley Chu

I've noted previously that I'm not a huge fan of science fiction stories preferring blades and magic to aliens and spaceships. But when I read the synopsis for Wesley Chu's The Lives of Tao I knew I had to give this sci-fi tale a run. Some may classify Chu's debut as urban fantasy, and I can certainly see their argument, but genre hardly matters when talking about a book that is as much fun as The Lives of Tao. Chu's cunning and hilarious mash-up of comedy, coming of age drama, espionage thriller, and science fiction has something for everyone.

When out-of-shape IT technician Roen woke up and started hearing voices in his head, he naturally assumed he was losing it.

He wasn’t.

He now has a passenger in his brain – an ancient alien life-form called Tao, whose race crash-landed on Earth before the first fish crawled out of the oceans. Now split into two opposing factions – the peace-loving, but under-represented Prophus, and the savage, powerful Genjix – the aliens have been in a state of civil war for centuries. Both sides are searching for a way off-planet, and the Genjix will sacrifice the entire human race, if that’s what it takes.

Meanwhile, Roen is having to train to be the ultimate secret agent. Like that’s going to end up well…

The heart of The Lives of Tao is its protagonist, the tubby, socially awkward, and unmotivated Roen Tan. Tan is dissatisfied with his life as a cog in the corporate machine, but lacks the strength of will necessary to lift his tires out of the rut he's been travelling on for years. I'd venture we all know someone just like Roen Tan, or have been more like him than we are comfortable admitting in some time of our lives. That's the genius of Chu's choice of protagonist, he is instantly relatable. A true everyman  if you will. I'm strongly reminded of Zachary Levi's portrayal of Chuck Bartowski in the television series Chuck in all the best ways. Roen starts off the novel as a whining, slovenly, schlub of a man and the heart of the novel is about his transformation into something much more.

Chu shows us the direction Roen will be heading in, before we even meet our protagonist. We meet Edward Blair, a suave and capable agent of the alien Prophus in the opening chapter ostensibly to see how Tao comes to choose Roen as his next host. Chu certainly accomplishes that goal in short order, but showing the contrast between what Roen is and what he is expected to become is an excellent, if intentional, bonus.

Roen's path is not an easy one. While a great deal of the novel concerns Roen's training to be an agent of the Prophus, there are no uplifting training montages with a soundtrack by Survivor. Chu chooses to go the honest route and show Roen getting his head and ass handed for page after page. He doesn't learn kung fu in three months or become a crack shot. Instead, Tan gets beat up by women and senior citizens with impunity. Chu's decision to forego the allure of the secret agent lifestyle is an inspired one, allowing readers to focus on the journey of his unlikely hero.

And what a journey it is. Guided by the wisecracking Tao, whose taunts are so close to the schoolyard jibes that nerds everywhere will instantly recognize, Roen transforms before our eyes into a fitter, more confident, and more engaged person. Chu draws this element of the story out and strip mines the comedic gold from Roen's every bumble and misstep. The interplay between Roen and Tao, reminiscent of countless buddy cop comedies, is Chu's secret weapon. Between Roen's self depreciating sense of humor and Tao droll sarcasm, readers are all but guaranteed to laugh out loud as they read.

But don't let Chu's propensity for drawing laughs fool you. The more dramatic and emotional moments are handles with care that never feels forced or out of place. The action sequences are incredibly tight, effortless straddling the line between cinematic and realistic. Roen may not be the James Bond action hero that one usually sees in espionage thrillers, but readers will more than satisfied in his transformation.

There's a lot to love about The Lives of Tao. Ancient aliens playing chess with the human race as the pieces, first hand accounts about Gengis Khan and the Black Plague, historical Easter eggs for the sharp eyed reader, and so much more. It's easy to forget about all of that science fiction stuff when you are busy laughing at and cheering for Roen Tan. And that, more than anything else, makes The Lives of Tao one of the best debuts I've read this year.

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.