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.

Delia's Shadow by Jaime Lee Moyer

True story, I found myself making an impromptu trip to my local book seller and I knew I wanted a debut author, preferably female for my next read.  I reached out to Twitter for recommendations but my trip was a short one and I didn't get a response fast enough, so I chose a book from the new release section only to find out the author of my chosen novel had suggested it. That novel was Jaime Lee Moyer's Delia's Shadow and I'm pleased to report that it was just what the doctor ordered. Fantasy is not a genre known for it's subtlety and Moyer's delicate and graceful tapestry of historical, romantic, and supernatural elements is as far from the blade wielding heroes, wizened mages, and fire breathing dragons that most associate with the genre as you can get, both in terms of subject and delivery. Even with ghosts and killers prowling the pages, Moyer delivers a subdued yet rousing tale about two people both haunted by their past drawn together to create a future. Moyer is definitely an author to watch.

The Thousand Names by Django Wexler

I'm just going to come out and say it, military fantasy and science fiction isn't really my bag. I prefer my combat scenes one on one and I'm not a huge fan of massive battles full of flanking maneuvers, artillery exchanges, and the like. Imagine my surprise when I found myself totally engrossed with Django Wexler's tale of a military campaign, The Thousand Names. Wexler's debut was a hasty add on to my list of books I'd like as a birthday gifts at the end of the summer, and it took me a long time to get to it. I'd noticed the buzz surrounding the novel, but hadn't read any reviews and only glanced at the description before deciding to give it a go. I'd enjoyed Brian McClellan's Promise of Blood, and Wexler's book looked very similar. I couldn't have been more wrong.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Review of the Week: Daughter of the Sword by Steve Bein

Daughter of the Sword has been on my radar for a while now. As a martial artist who loves Japanese culture and swordsmanship and a long time reader of crime fiction, the premise of Bein's debut novel was near irresistible. A Japanese themed crime story with magic swords, you say? From a expert on Japanese history and a twenty year martial artist to boot? Well lets just say that there was little chance that I wouldn't give Daughter of the Sword a try. And I'm glad that I did. Bein turns in a story that is captivating, authentic, and full of history, character, and mythology that is handled with the delicate artistry of a the warrior poets of old. 

And here's the story summary from the publisher:

Mariko Oshiro is not your average Tokyo cop. As the only female detective in the city’s most elite police unit, she has to fight for every ounce of respect, especially from her new boss. While she wants to track down a rumored cocaine shipment, he gives her the least promising case possible. But the case—the attempted theft of an old samurai sword—proves more dangerous than anyone on the force could have imagined.

The owner of the sword, Professor Yasuo Yamada, says it was crafted by the legendary Master Inazuma, a sword smith whose blades are rumored to have magical qualities. The man trying to steal it already owns another Inazuma—one whose deadly power eventually comes to control all who wield it. Or so says Yamada, and though he has studied swords and swordsmanship all his life, Mariko isn’t convinced.

But Mariko’s skepticism hardly matters. Her investigation has put her on a collision course with a curse centuries old and as bloodthirsty as ever. She is only the latest in a long line of warriors and soldiers to confront this power, and even the sword she learns to wield could turn against her. 

Bein's protagonist, despite the somewhat stereotypical female bad-ass pose she's placed in on the cover has very little in common with the much maligned urban fantasy heroine. Sure Mariko is tough, as any women working in the misogynistic environs of the police force in Japan would have to be. But she never uses her gender as a weapon, wanting more than anything to be seen as an equal to her male counterparts. Her strength comes not from supernatural gifts or even from her eventual training from a renowned sword master, but from her dogged determination to see things through despite the obstacles placed before her. The genre needs more female characters like her.

The supporting cast is equally well rounded. Professor Yamada, while certainly falling into the trope of wise mentor and teacher, never chews the scenery, even when he's easily dispatching a quartet of murder-minded yakuza. He's more Miyagi than Kenobi, and injects every scene he graces with a quiet dignity and dry humor.  He's every sensei I've ever had, and all the ones I wished for all in one. Even the villian of the piece isn't as two dimensional as he appears at first glance, though he is serves more like a force of nature than an actual character.

And all of this doesn't even touch the secondary story lines that run through out the novel. Bein tells the stories of the Inazuma blades at varying times in history ranging from the feudal period to World War II. Even the characters who are "throw away" are well drawn and engaging and I was often sad to see their stories come to end. Bein does a fantastic job of making the blades themselves characters in the story. Not in the awakened blade tradition of table top role-playing games, but through the subtle  and some times terrifying influence they exert on their bearers. The layering of the present and the past is deftly handled and I never felt an ounce of frustration or anxiety when the story shifted away from the present.

The plot while largely unremarkable was nonetheless effortless and entertaining, with a few twists that I didn't see coming. But the lack of jaw-dropping revelations and unexpected twists didn't hamper my enjoyment in the least. Bein's prose is understated and almost invisible allowing me to escape into the story almost as if I were watching it unfold. But at certain key moments I found myself transfixed by a bit of imagery or simple elegance in the prose that showcased just how much the culture of the novel was woven into its physical substance. Bein's knowledge of the setting and themes in play really shines, giving the novel an authenticity that the reader can feel as early as the first few pages. His proper use of terminology and excellent handling of the customs and language of Japan elevate the writing far beyond the Wikipedia and anime driven research methods I've seen in some novels set in the Land of the Rising Sun. Bein's Tokyo is rich with detail as are the different historical periods visited through the course of the novel.

I wholeheartedly recommend Daughter of the Sword to all fans of urban fantasy, crime procedurals, and historical fiction. Bein is a talent to watch and I am anxious for the next installment in the Fated Blades series.

Review of the Week: Stormdancer by Jay Kristoff

Jay Kristoff's debut novel Stormdancer, entered the market on a cloud of positive buzz, helped by a fantastic premise and a cover blurb by none other than Patrick Rothfuss. It was the strength of both that prompted my purchase, and I am certain I am not alone. An endorsement from one of the most highly regarded new voices in the genre in the last decade carries a lot of weight. Sadly, I was left wondering if Rothfuss actually read the entirety of the novel.

The premise of Stormdancer is definitely unique. Kristoff's Shima is Japanese flavored steampunk full of chain-saw katanas, a power mad emperor, samurai wearing mechanized armor, airships and did I mention a griffin. The excitement surrounding this novel is no surprise at all. It seemed almost guaranteed greatness. While it has, no doubt, sold very well, critical reception has been very mixed. This seems to be one of those you love it or you hate it books. Casual readers will likely enjoy the engaging world and characters that populate Stormdancer. Readers with a more critical bent, may have a drastically different experience.

I fell into the latter category. For as many things as Stormdancer has going for it, it has just as many problems. Strength of premise and a fantastic pre-release buzz were just not enough to elevate this story beyond the myriad of problems I encountered. Stormdancer is flawed on so many levels that I was unable to enjoy the story Kristoff was trying to tell. Between the uneven pacing, inconsistent world building, unbelievable character development, and cultural appropriation I had a really hard time even finishing it. Which is sad, because I really wanted to like Stormdancer. 

The uneven pacing seems to be the most telling of the early flaws in the novel. Kristoff starts with an action packed sequence, showing us not only our protagonist, Yukiko, but the arashitora or thunder tiger fighting a pair of demons. The action is tight and flows well, and there are just enough hints to make us wonder about how this sixteen year old girl ended up fighting side by side with a mythological beast. If the following chapters were written half as well as the first chapter, Kristoff wouldn't be facing the torrent of criticism that seems to surround Stormdancer. But he doesn't, rewinding the story and launching into chapter after chapter of exposition with very little exciting forward movement. I slogged through the first 120 pages or so. After that, things pick up speed, but there is no gradual ratcheting up of the pace here. We go from coasting along to breakneck speed, and things never really slow down until we are at the final pages.

This causes problems, because character arcs are shortened, keeping them from developing naturally. The two most egregious examples are the relationship between Yukiko and Buruu, the aforementioned arashitora. When Yukiko's father captures Buruu, he cuts off the arashitora's flight feathers in an attempt to break the beast's spirit. Through Yukiko's link with the creature, we are privy to its thoughts. Understandably, they are not charitable at all. But it takes no time at all for Buruu to learn to trust and even love Yukiko though their psychic bond. Kristoff isn't so foolish as to make it a complete about face, but he spends so little time working through the process that the relationship seems contrived and this caused it to ring false at least for me. The second instance that I found particularly off-putting was Yukiko's relationship with the Hiro, the samurai with the green eyes. I'll talk more about the eye color later, but having Yukiko who seems to swoon over this non-character for reasons that are more juvenile than can be attributed to this otherwise resourceful and competent young woman. The relationship like Yukiko's relationship with Buruu moves too quickly and seems to only be there to set up a love triangle and to tell us repeatedly how our heroine knows she is being a foolish girl before continuing to moon over the green-eyed samurai. Given more time these relationships could have been more believable and meaningful, but at the pace Kristoff is setting they come off as shallow and uneven.

The world building in Stormdancer is equally haphazard. While Kristoff has said in interviews that Shima is not Japan, his statements hold no water with me. The language(when he gets it right), cultural norms, weapons, clothing, food, and all of the creatures we encounter(with the exception of the arashitora) are all taken straight from Japan. I'm not an expert on Japanese culture, but with twenty years served as an instructor and student of Japanese martial traditions, I think I am more than qualified to say that if Kristoff wanted this to be Japanese inspired rather than a Japan that never was, he should have tried harder. With that said, the non Japanese elements contained in the story are jarring because the setting is so richly infused with all things Japanese. There are pandas in Shima, and characters use Chinese phrases and a lot of British slang to name but a few of the standouts. These elements stand out so much that they ripped me out of the story and left me scratching my head. In a barely three hundred page novel, these things detract for more than they might have spread out over more pages. Packed so closely together, they just make the writer look lazy.  

Which brings me to the issue that seems to be the biggest sticking point with reviewers, cultural appropriation. As I've stated above, there is little use in denying that Kristoff has borrowed or appropriated most of the elements of his setting from Japan. It stands to reason that it is important to treat the borrowed culture with respect, and try to portray it as accurately as possible. I know it's a fantasy story, but if you want to run rough shod over a culture, invent your own.  Kristoff seems to pay little attention to accuracy in the language especially in the correct use of honorific terms. In other passages, he has characters translate their own language into English in the midst of internal dialogue. His treatment of women and the caste system of Japanese society is uneven, he uses the correct approach only when it suits him. For example, women are portrayed as subservient to men in almost every setting in the book, except when dealing our protagonist or members of her family. Yukiko is also obviously a member of the samurai caste, given her families long service to the Emperor, yet she seems to be not allowed to wear the swords that would be her birthright. And then there is the green-eyed samurai. Native Japanese do not have such eye color, and to use such a feature to make him somehow more desirable is an insult to the culture that Kristoff owes his entire setting to. It's sloppy writing and with all of the other flaws made Stormdancer a major disappointment, especially given the hype and possibilities of it's premise.

I'm certain Stormdancer will sell plenty of copies, and there will be countless casual readers who will eagerly gobble up anything else Kristoff publishes in this series. And that's okay, I won't be one of them until I see evidence that he's found a way to balance the cool of the story with a whole lot more craft.