Honor's Knight by Rachel Bach

February has been an insane month for me personally. My wife and I have sold one house, bought another and are in the midst of preparing for the move at the end of next week. But I'm still reading. Not as often, or for as long, and it's gotten harder and harder to find the time to write reviews but with Rachel Bach's second Paradox novel, Honor's Knight  releasing today I thought I should add my voice to the signal and hopefully get this spectacular sequel some extra sales.

YA Spotlight: Origin by Jessica Khoury

One of my reviewing goals for 2014 is to review more Young Adult titles. So I'm going to read a minimum of one YA novel each month. After seeing a blurb for Jessica Khoury's debut novel Origin somewhere on the interwebs a month or two back, I picked up a copy and poured through it in a day. With an premise that hooked me from the first few pages and a protagonist that is easy to cheer for, Origin is just the kind of young adult novel I plan to recommend to my daughter when she's older. With an engaging premise and real emotional heft, Khoury has earned a place on my fiction radar.

Fortune's Pawn by Rachel Bach

I've been making a concerted effort to read more science fiction this year, and I've found some real standout novels for my trouble. Rachel Aaron's newest novel, Fortune's Pawn is just the latest discovery. Written under the pseudonym of Rachel Bach, Fortune's Pawn is the first in the Paradox series, and it's a fantastic start. Packed to the gills with action, mysteries, and featuring a compelling protagonist this is a novel that fans of space opera won't want to miss. Bringing to mind such genre darlings such as Firefly and Alien, Bach makes good use of the familiar while injecting enough mystery and originality to make such comparisons nothing more than superficial.  I'll definitely be looking forward to the sequel.

Love Minus Eighty by Will McIntosh

One of the best things about being connected to the reviewing community is hearing about novels that I wouldn’t otherwise have picked up on my own. Will McIntosh’s Love Minus Eighty is one of those finds I wouldn’t have made if not for social media. After seeing review after glowing review in my Twitter feed, I picked it up and set it on the top of Mount To Be Read, where it was promptly buried. It took a few months before I had time to pick it up, but I managed to devour it over the weekend, despite being fairly busy with other social obligations. I don’t normally read a lot on the weekends due to a fairly busy schedule when I’m not working, but McIntosh’s fascinating tale of love and technology just wouldn’t let me go, so I finished it in record time. I’m happy to report that despite having a strong romantic element to its story line that Love Minus Eighty is one of the best novels I’ve read this year.

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 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.

Round Table: Violence in Science Fiction and Fantasy

By way of introduction, I came to the idea of a round table discussion after doing back to back interviews with two of my favorite authors. Afterwards, I was thinking how interesting it would be if I could just sit back and watch these two incredibly talented writer's just talk to one another about matters of fiction. The round table you are about to read, was sparked in that moment. 

All of the writer's gathered here are known for their expert handling of violence in their fiction no matter the specifics of the story. I've read and enjoyed them all and have reviewed almost of all of them here. 

After some biographical information for those of you who may not be familiar with the authors and their work we'll dive in with the first question. Due to the length of the discussion, I've decided to break this up by question. You can expect a new installment every other day until all the questions have been answered. I found the dialogue between these four to be very very insightful and a joy to read. Here's hoping you all feel the same. 

Kameron Hurley is the award winning author of GOD’S WAR, INFIDEL, and RAPTURE. She currently hacks out a living as a marketing and advertising writer in Ohio. She's lived in Fairbanks, 
Alaska; Durban, South Africa; and Chicago, but grew up in and around Washington State. Her personal and professional exploits have taken her all around the world. She spent much of her roaring 
20's traveling, pretending to learn how to box, and trying not to die spectacularly. Along the way, she justified her nomadic lifestyle by picking up degrees in history from the University of Alaska and the 
University of Kwa-Zulu Natal.

Douglas Hulick is author of "Among Thieves", the first book in the "Tales of the Kin" fantasy-adventure series.

When not writing, Douglas is a stay-at-home dad (or should that be: when not busy being dad, Douglas is an as-time-permits-writer?). Either way, he makes his home in the upper Midwest. He has a B.A. and M.A. in medieval history, with minors in history and anthropology. Who knew they would come in useful?

He is also a practitioner of Historical Western Martial Arts, with his main focus being on early 17th century Italian Rapier. (Primarily Capoferro, for you WMA enthusiasts and "Princess Bride" fans out there.)

Jeff Salyards grew up in a small town north of Chicago. While it wasn't Mayberry, it was quiet and sleepy, so he got started early imagining his way into other worlds that were loud, chaotic, and full of irrepressible characters. While he ultimately moved away, he never lost his fascination for the fantastic. Though his tastes have grown a bit darker and more mature over the years.

Jeff lives near Chicago with his wife and three daughters. By day, he is a book editor for the American Bar Association; by night, he will continue to crank out novels as long as there are readers willing to read them.

Zachary Jernigan is a 33-year-old, quarter-Hungarian, bald male. He has lived in Northern Arizona, with occasional forays into the wetter and colder world, since 1990. His favorite activities include: listening to 70s-00s punk and post-punk music, cooking delicious and often unhealthy foods, riding human-powered vehicles, talking and/or arguing about religion, and watching sitcoms.


During his rare periods of productivity, he writes science fiction and fantasy. NO RETURN, his first novel, comes out March 5th, 2013 from Night Shade Books. His short stories have appeared in a variety of places, including ASIMOV'S SCIENCE FICTION, CROSSED GENRES, and ESCAPE POD


52 Reviews:  Violence in fantasy is certainly in the public eye, largely due to airing of the Red Wedding episode on HBO’s Game of Thrones. Of course, most long term fantasy readers were ahead of the curve on this having a thirteen year or so head start. Do you think the level of violence we see in today's genre fiction owes to the game changing nature of Martin's series? 

Kameron Hurley: Short answer? No.

I think Martin’s influence on the current genre has more to do with subverting fantasy tropes and reader expectations than ratcheting up the violence. The writer that really turned up the violence-and-ick factor, I’d argue, is Joe Abercrombie, whose first book came ten years after Martin’s A Game of Thrones, and has spanned an incredible number of imitators. Most folks don’t have the scope or publisher support to write an epic on the scale of Thrones. When a writer’s series hits the mainstream, folks often forget that – at the time it was first published – it had an influence, but not necessarily the profound one we see when looking back on when it first came out. Robert Jordan’s work also explored war and violence (as did Hemingway’s, for that matter!), and the ramifications of such – I still remember the horrific scene of the melted people-in-stone from the prologue. I’d argue that the popularity of Jordan’s work helped bolster the success of Martin’s series.  

The trouble with focusing too heavily on Martin and Jordan, however, is also that we erase a lot of fiction that came before, fiction that may have influenced them– the hero of Gene Wolfe’s most beloved series was a torturer, Michael Moorcock’s Elric books didn’t shy away from portraying the genocide of entire peoples, Octavia Butler wrote extraordinarily creepy and quite violent stories, Alfred Bester’s The Demolished Man had a lot of violence for its time, and Joanna Russ’s The Female Man had some very angry, violent protagonists who would happily cut you in two. Her short story, We Who are About To… was all about a woman running around murdering the survivors of a spaceship crash. Then there’s Ellison’s I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream, which still gives a lot of folks nightmares.

One of the things folks told me to do when I first started writing spec fic was to go back and read the classics. It helped me understand what had come before me, and encouraged me to riff on and subvert those things. Pretending Martin suddenly appeared from a vacuum does a disservice to what’s come before. What’s changed is our willingness to portray that type of violence in mainstream television and perpetuate it in mainstream culture. In a society that has been at war for over a decade, where our media is increasingly showing us more-and-more real-life violence, I think we turn to fiction to make sense of it. To be honest, I’m still waiting for HBO to pick up Jacqueline Carey’s Kushiel books, which have all the political machinations and assassinations of Martin’s work with far more interesting and varied sexual relationships. Of course, we’re still far more comfortable showing rape and murder than interesting consensual sex on television, so it may be awhile.

Jeff Salyards: Way to set the bar high, Kameron. Thanks for nothing.

I’m with her on this one—I don’t think Martin’s particular brand of violence or action sequences has been a game changer in the genre, or really the strongest or most memorable part of his writing at all.  Watching the HBO show, you’d think that every fifteen pages someone was disemboweled, raped, beheaded, or otherwise violently dispatched. But in the books, while there are certainly awful and alarming things that happen in front of or to POV characters, actually a large chunk of the worst stuff takes place “off-screen.”

Exhibit A: Theon Greyjoy. You don’t see him or his minions kill and tar the two farmer boys, and you certainly don’t see the sadistic torture that he undergoes at the hands of Ramsay Bolton later on. Where the show revels in it for effect, on the page you get the gist of it later, and it’s all reported second-hand. So, too, some of Gregor Clegane’s most heinous acts—raping an innkeeper’s daughter, playing Scald the Weasel with his brother’s face, etc.—are all reported or referenced by someone else.  

Now, simply alluding to all these horrific things does create a pervasive atmosphere, to be certain. Martin is great at awful atmosphere. But his books are progressively bigger and more massive in scale than the last, and on a per-page metric, he spends vastly more time describing sumptuous meals, or cunning political maneuvering, or blazonry, or the after effects of awful stuff happening, than detailing battles or the often unexpected acts of violence that punctuate the books. He plays to his strengths—complex character and characterization, sprawling and immensely detailed world building, and convention subversion, as Kameron mentioned. 

Describing tactics, logistics, and visceral, pulse-pounding battles ain't really his thing. In fact, he blithely skips over some of the more significant ones that happen (e.g., Whispering Woods).

For instance, while not a fantasy writer, Bernard Cornwell (a favorite of Martin’s, btw) does actually seem to have a big set piece battle or incredibly realistic and gritty action sequence every chapter. In terms of weight in the books, his violence is front-and-center. So, too, Abercrombie, Richard Morgan, or Paul Kerney.

Zachary Jernigan: I'll be the odd one out here, probably, and begin with a massive admission of ignorance: I've never read Martin. I don't say this to be a snob. (Okay, maybe a little. I never know.) I say it because when we're talking about how something influences the genre it's very easy to over-extend that influence. As I said, I've never read his work -- in fact, most of my references in the fantasy genre are decades older than Martin, and even then I've read ten times more science fiction than fantasy -- and yet my first novel is a fairly violet fantasy. Clearly, I'm not taking direct influence from him.

But, it'd be ridiculous for me to say that I'm unaffected by his work. As a hugely bestselling author, he has altered the publishing landscape. I'd assert that, with him at the head of the table, it has become more possible to portray a certain kind of violence -- the kind of violence that requires no sentimentality, tenderness, or justice to "balance" it out -- in traditionally published fantasy. This is not to say that such violence has never been portrayed (Kameron gave some great examples, all of which you should seek out), but I view many of those as outlying examples that hardly touch the popular consciousness as Martin's does.

(If you think I'm overstating his influence, just go peruse Goodreads for fifteen minutes. A clear majority of fantasy readers have his series at the top of their favorite reads.)

The funny/sad thing about this situation? I think violence has immense potential to impact the reader in novel ways, and -- conservative though this perspective surely is -- I worry that Martin's influence may diminish the overall impact of truly extraordinary examinations of violence in fantasy literature. I don't worry overmuch about the majority of works that aim to entertain (I don't mean that as an elitist comment; it's the kind of fiction I write, after all), but there are works of great subtlety and brutality that I fear will be interpreted more simplistically because of Martin's influence.

Jeff Salyards: I knew that Zack either A) hadn't read him or B) read and hated him. I just knew it in my bones

Zachary Jernigan: Ha! I am awful, yes. But in all honesty, it's no prejudice toward Martin: it's prejudice toward huge freaking books. I'm a slow reader, and impatient as all hell, so an ongoing series of massive books has never really been in the cards for me.

Kameron Hurley: I love how every comment Zach makes about reading (or not reading) genre fiction includes the statement "I don't mean to sound elitist, but..." Zach, there must be *something* you like about genre fiction, or I suspect you would not write it! Who were your actual influences? I know you've talked before about Zelazny, who certainly also had a great influence on SF/F.

Jeff Salyards: And to stay on track, how would you describe the level/treatment of violence in those mysterious and seminal influences?

Zachary Jernigan: Well, I'm constantly hearing that my view of literature is elitist. I don't think it is -- I've always been a cranky person who dislikes most things, the vast majority of them not all that popular -- but when you happen to be fairly vocal about your views you run such a risk. I give the caveat because I'd hate people to think I'm not aware of how it sounds when I say such things. I should probably just stop qualifying my statements, but I'd rather be laughed at than cause too much anger. I do love the genre. I just happen to be a person whose love is inextricably bound up in criticism. It's who I am. I love nothing so much I don't rag on it. 

I'd say that most of my influences are individual books rather than singe authors, though I do have a few favorites: Alice Sheldon, the aforementioned Zelazny (though I hate his portrayals of women), Sean Stewart, Joanna Russ, Cordwainer Smith, and a few others that escape me. Even authors whose books I often love -- Ian McDonald, Phyllis Gotlieb, Terry Pratchett -- have volumes I really don't fancy.

As to-- 

Wait, Jeff's comment leads me to believe this will be part of the published roundtable. Seriously? I thought these were just random interactions and maybe even hazing of the new guy. Crap. Oh, well.

To answer your question, Jeff, I think for me the most powerful scenes of violence are those that come as a true shock. Rarely in my favorite books is violence all-pervasive. It's usually short, punctuated by tragedy. There are no extended fight scenes. That's not say it can't be done -- you did a great job of it in Scourge of the Betrayer, for instance -- but it's relatively rare for me to stay with those scenes. Typically, I prefer a scene like Robert Silverberg wrote in his Dangerous Visions story, "Lies":

"A swift kick in the belly might do it. Too crude, too crude. Yet Cassidy had not come armed with abortifacients, a handy ergot pill, a quick-acting spasmic inducer. So he brought his knee up sharply, deploring the crudity of it. Lureen sagged. He kicked her a second time. He remained completely tranquil as he did it, for it would be wrong to take joy in violence. A third kick seemed desirable. Then he released her."

I mean, how horrifying is that? That's the kind of scene that defines violence for me.

Douglas Hulick: What was the original question again? Something about unicorns?

Okay, seriously....

I'm going to contextualize a bit here and say that for readers who are either new to the genre, or have only been reading it for the last 10 years, Martin may very well BE a game changer. Why? Because he's quite possibly the most violent/bloody/gritty thing they've read to date. If you are defined by your early experiences, then for many readers GRRM is IT when it comes to violence in fantasy.

And that, I think, speaks more to the demographics and growth of the genre than anything. A couple years ago, when I first started actually paying attention to on-line SFF blogs and review sites (I'm a slow adopter with limited time to read and kids at home--so sue me), I happened to stumble across a number of people posting their "Bestest Fantasy/SF Books Ever" lists. And do you know what I saw? Aside from the Tolkien's LOTR and maybe a nod to Heinlein or Moorcock here or there, nearly every list I saw were comprised of books or series less than a decade old. A lot of the books listed were good (or, at least popular--I'll let Zach grandstand on that distinction ;), but to have 75% of the best examples of SFF being published in the last ten years? In a genre that extends back a century or more? Please. Yes, a lot comes down to taste, but a lot also comes down to depth, and those lists told me that a lot of people weren't digging any deeper than what they could find on the shelves of their local B&N or on their recommended reading lists on Amazon or Goodreads.

This genre has been growing for quite a while, especially lately. When I first started reading SFF, you almost had to go back to the older works because there just wasn't as much new stuff to find on the shelf. Now, it's impossible to keep up with what is coming out, let alone dig back into what has come before--at least, not without making a conscious effort. And even then, what you want you may not be able to find in print any more, let alone in e-book format. But with so much on the shelves (both real & virtual), where's the incentive for the casual genre reader to go fishing?

So is GRRM's The Shits when it comes to violence in fantasy? For many readers, yes, he is--and Ned Stark's death will always be a defining moment for them. But for us older codgers, or those who, like Kameron, make a conscious effort to dig back into our genre heritage, it’s just another step on the continuum.

Where I do think things have changed is the genre's willingness to have more violence show up on the page, both in general and on the best seller's list. In some types of books, it's almost expected now. But, as Kameron says, that has more to do with our broader desensitization as a society than any one (or several) series of books. If people weren't willing and ready to accept that much blood and rape and gore on the page, then I doubt those books would be moving quite as well as they are. Writing and story count for a lot, but there also has to be a connection with the broader audience for something to build momentum. And if the audience wasn't hungry for what is quickly becoming a (admittedly simplified) trademark for Martin's ASOIAF, then we wouldn't be here talking about it.

Round Table Part 2

Leviathan Wakes by James S.A. Corey

Call me late for the party. I’ve never been a fan of traditional science fiction, preferring knights, wizards and dragons to aliens, FTL drives, and space stations. But as a genre book reviewer I’ve felt a certain amount of (internal) pressure to branch out.Leviathan Wakes kept coming to mind as I chose new books to review but I always managed to find an excuse why some other book was more appealing or would generate more traffic or what not. I should have known better.  I’ve read a good amount of Daniel Abraham’s work and have never been disappointed. His collaboration with Ty Franck, under the pseudonym of James S.A. Corey lives up to any expectations I had based on those excellent novels. Leviathan Wakes is science fiction for readers without advanced science degrees who are far more interested in plot and character than the actual science of our science fiction. This is space opera that eschews the usual trappings of the genre, and focuses instead on tight realistic world building and a character driven story that approaches the material from unexpected angles.

This is not to say, fans of space opera will be in completely unexplored territory. The world of Leviathan Wakes is infinitely familiar. Humanity has taken to the stars but remain limited to our solar system due to the limitations of the technology that has given them the planets if not the stars. By confining the characters to a smaller sandbox, Corey is able to overlay real world concerns and issues onto his interplanetary stage without getting lost in scads of exposition and explanation. The solar system is a world not far from our own once you scratch the surface. Divisive politics, prejudice, corporate greed and the small struggles of real people are the order of the day and readers will instantly feel at home in this zero-g landscape.

The novel opens with a mystery that feels so much like the “ice monster prologue” of A Game of Thrones that it feels impossible not to recall the connection between these authors and Martin. But it’s handled well and ties into the main plot thread quickly enough that I can’t begin to criticize the method.  The next two chapters introduce us to our viewpoint characters and this is where Corey’s writing really shines.

First, we have Jim Holden, the second in command of an ice hauler called the Canterbury. Holden is thrust into command of the remains of the Canterbury’s crew when his ship and most of his friends are murdered while on a mission of mercy near a small out of the way asteroid. Holden is an idealist, whose simple moralistic world view leaves him woefully unprepared for the consequences of his broadcasting evidence of the attack. Holden brings to mind the rough around the edges, good intentioned space captains from countless films and television shows in the genre, and Corey makes good use of the trope while subverting it by not having Holden stray into Han Solo or Malcolm Reynolds territory at all. Holden is a man who wrestles with not his choices, but the consequences of them, all while trying to keep the remaining members of the Canterbury’s crew alive in a solar system on the verge of collapsing into war.

The second viewpoint character is Miller, a middle aged police officer on Ceres Station. Miller is in many ways the antithesis of Holden. With his career on the decline due to his depression and alcoholism, Miller is assigned to find the missing Julie Mao, who figures heavily in the prologue of the novel. Miller’s world weary, suspicious view of the world is in sharp contrast to Holden’s idealism and optimistic world view. Miller’s quest to locate Julie and his growing obsession with his quarry leads him to Holden and his crew in the middle section of the novel as the Belt and Mars inch closer and closer to out right war. It is quickly apparent that Miller is a damaged soul, the quintessential noir detective, and that finding Julie Mao is, at least in his mind, his last shot at redemption. When Corey brings Holden and Miller together the sparks fly as the two men’s conflicting world views lend the novel it’s most believable conflict. This unlikely pairing is the heart of the novel, and I often found myself wishing they could just get along, but knew that the story would be far weaker if Corey had followed the path of least resistance.

The crew of Holden’s ship, the Rosinante, is sympathetic and expertly drawn. In fact, they are in many ways more easily relatable than the two principal protagonists. I hope for viewpoint chapters from Naomi and Amos in the next volume. Each of the supporting characters, no matter how secondary to the plot have nuance and importance to the principal characters they orbit. While many of them can be easily described in terms of genre tropes, Corey’s delivery makes that familiarity a blessing rather than a curse.

Another highlight of Corey’s writing is the distinct sense of place that is evoked in the various locales in the novel. With the narrative spanning the solar system, it would have been easy for Corey to gloss over the specifics and focus on action, plot and character. Instead, every location has a distinct flavor. The casinos of Eros, slums of Ceres Station, and the more opulent environs of Tycho are all given equal time to shine with the details of the environment and its denizens woven so seamlessly into the narrative that the reader is in fact absorbing the material in a natural way. The characters experience their environment and we readers are merely along for the ride.  Even the ships that occupy so much page space have their own character and peculiarities. This attention to detail allows for a fully immersive experience that avoids info dumping in almost every instance.

With spaceship battles and pitched gun fights in the close quarters of space stations, Leviathan Wakes has more than enough action for genre fans. The choreography and emotional heft of these scenes is some of the best I’ve seen in any genre. Violence is never meaningless to those who are touched by it, and Corey never forgets that fact. Conflict always has repercussions to either the plot or the characters.

In conclusion, Leviathan Wakes is science fiction for lovers of story that like the science in the background and the human element front and center. If you want to explore science fiction but don’t care about astrophysics or the technical specs of every ship and firearm, Corey has written the book for you. Leviathan Wakes is poised to be a classic in the genre moving forward, a natural progression from the classics that came before with a decidedly modern sensibility.

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.

Shift By Hugh Howey

Hugh Howey's Wool was one of the first books outside of epic fantasy that I reviewed, and I was blown away by his claustrophobic tale of the remnants of humanity living below the earth in silos for so long that their inhabitants had forgotten the world above. Howey's blend of science fiction and literary realism was a standout of 2012 for me, so as I approached the first anniversary of this blog, I decided to delve into the second offering in the world of the silos.

While Howey still turns in an atmospherical tale within the pages of Shift, I found it underwhelming in comparison to his earlier work. There was a, pardon the pun, a shift from the sci fi elements into a stronger lit fiction feel, and I found the result well written, but ultimately a trifle unsatisfying.

The publisher's synopsis follows:

In 2007, the Center for Automation in Nanobiotech (CAN) outlined the hardware and software platform that would one day allow robots smaller than human cells to make medical diagnoses, conduct repairs, and even self-propagate.

In the same year, the CBS network re-aired a program about the effects of propranolol on sufferers of extreme trauma. A simple pill, it had been discovered, could wipe out the memory of any traumatic event.

At almost the same moment in humanity’s broad history, mankind had discovered the means for bringing about its utter downfall. And the ability to forget it ever happened.

Not the most exciting synopsis, is it? I would have passed on this based on the cover art and back copy, if I hadn't been so impressed by Wool. But poor marketing aside, Shift is, on it's face, a welcome addition to Howey's flagship franchise. With it's structure following the same format as it's predecessor, made up of sepearate novellas all connected either through events of reoccuring characters, Shift will feel comfortably familiar to those who devoured Wool.

The first novella introduces us to Donald, a freshman Congressman, who is swiftly entangled in the construction of the silos and the conspiracy behind their true purpose. While Donald is sympathetic and well drawn character, I couldn't help but be appalled at the over all lack of agency he seems to have in this opening novella. I know this is intentional, as Donald is embroiled in circumstances so far beyond his understanding and control that he is simply swept along on its currents. Donald seems to react far more than he ever acts and because of this I found his initial character arc, which is the core of the first novella less than satisfying. I realize that the entire purpose of Shift is to fill in the origin of the silos, but with the foreknowledge that comes with having already read Wool, I couldn't bring myself to care enough about that origin with a protagonist that comes off as milquetoast as Donald.

The second novella, which splits time between Donald and a young porter named Mission Jones, is far better and I found myself wishing that his story was the central thread. Mission's tale centers around the collapse of one of the silo's and shows not only Mission's growing understanding of the silo politics and his questioning of the 'survival of the fittest' philosophy that is at the crux of the silo project. Donald appears here as well and we learn first hand what measures that the architects of the silos will go to keep their experiment going. It's a chilling and poignant tale and in my opinion was the strongest of the novellas included in the omnibus.

The final novella shows what happens when Donald, who by all appearances is the moral compass of the overarching plot of the collection, is placed in charge of the silos. Donald's decent into petty revenge is, while understandable and realistic, largely unsatisfying. The secondary plot, which takes us back in time to follow young Jimmy Parker, who appears in Wool was more palatable at least to me. Seeing the youngster adapt to the crushing lonliness and sporadic violence of the collapse of his silo was both heart wrenching and beautifully executed. This is what Howey does best, creating characters that his readers can empathize with and that manage to survive with nothing more than their strength of character. Jimmy's encroaching madness is well handled and makes the boy's survival all the more heart wrenching. Howey also teases the intersection of Donald and Juliette's story lines for the final volume of the Silo saga, the upcoming Dust.

While I found Shift to lack the suspense and surprise of Wool, there is no denying the emotional heft and deft examination of survival and community in Howey's work. I suspect that the challenges of writing a prequel to such an engaging property are monumental and probably contributed to what felt quite a lot like 'middle book syndromwe' to me. Nevertheless I'll tune in for Dust because I suspect the showdown between Juliette and Donald to be far more satisfying than this look back at the origins of the Silos.

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.

Fragments by Dan Wells

Dan Wells is the only YA author that I read with any regularity. Sure I read the Hunger Games so I could be conversant with the throngs of acquaintances and friends who thought Collins' trilogy was the second coming. Honestly, I much prefer Wells' work, though there are shades of Collins' formula present in his Partials Sequence. I found the first volume, Partials, to be a good if not stellar start to the series, but decided to continue the series based on my experiences with the excellent John Cleaver books. Wells doesn't disappoint at all, with his second installment. Fragments succeeds on every level, easily ratcheting up the momentum from Partials and improves by leaps and bounds leaving me anxious for the continuation of the series.

Kira Walker has found the cure for RM, but the battle for the survival of humans and Partials is just beginning. Kira has left East Meadow in a desperate search for clues to who she is. That the Partials themselves hold the cure for RM in their blood cannot be a coincidence--it must be part of a larger plan, a plan that involves Kira, a plan that could save both races. Her companions are Afa Demoux, an unhinged drifter and former employee of ParaGen, and Samm and Heron, the Partials who betrayed her and saved her life, the only ones who know her secret. But can she trust them?

Meanwhile, back on Long Island, what's left of humanity is gearing up for war with the Partials, and Marcus knows his only hope is to delay them until Kira returns. But Kira's journey will take her deep into the overgrown wasteland of postapocalyptic America, and Kira and Marcus both will discover that their greatest enemy may be one they didn't even know existed.

The second installment in the pulse-pounding Partials saga is the story of the eleventh hour of humanity's time on Earth, a journey deep into places unknown to discover the means--and even more important, a reason--for our survival.

Wells ups the ante with this volume, immediately removing Kira from the familiar surroundings of East Meadow and her circle of friends. Away from familiar surroundings, Kira begins her exploration of the unsettled areas of Well's post-apocalyptic setting. While the landscape offers very little new to genre readers familiar with similar dystopian settings, the internal monologue that accompanies Kira's exploration is fresh and revealing. Even with the problem of the RM virus, partially solved Kira is surrounded by mysteries both about her own history and the history of the Break that left both the humans and Partials on the edge of extinction.

Removed from the medical setting so prevalent in Partials, I found Kira to be a much more relatable character. Her youth made her proficiency in virology a bit of a strain of credibility, though Wells' manages to shore that up with the revelation of Kira's heritage at the end of that novel. As she explores the mysteries of her own identity and faces not only the perils of travelling in the blighted remains of post-Break America but the complications brought on by her travelling companions.

And what companions they are. Between the mentally unstable tech wizard, Afa and the Partials; Samm and Heron, Kira is pulled in multiple directions for most of the narrative. Afa, in particular, provides an almost bottomless well of story beats and complications. Samm is far more well developed here, as the attraction between he and Kira is further explored. Wells' wisely gives him more screen time, and develops him beyond the more machine than man archetype that he filled in Partials. Heron is an excellent foil for the idealistic Kira. Her pragmatic, 'the end justifies the means' attitude is often at odds with the rest of the companions, and comes to head in the final chapters.

Wells' wisely keeps readers abreast of what is happening in East Meadow, with almost all of the secondary characters from Partials making appearances. Marcus gets the most screen time, and he seems to benefit from being out from under Kira's shadow. I found his deadpan humor and his complete averageness, much more appealing this go around. The twin plot lines, keep the tension well balanced and give Wells plenty of room to explore the various mysteries of both the nature of the Break and the organization and motives of the Partials. I never felt the urge to rush to get to the other section of the novel, with Wells balancing the action and suspense equally over the various plot threads.

The slowly unfolding mystery of the Break and Kira's role in the schemes of ParaGen is the real strength of Fragments. Through this plot device, Wells reveals more and more details not only about the world the cast travels through, but the events leading up to the Break and how those events shaped the current landscape. We are treated not just to New York and it's immediate environs, but to the whole of the Midwest, which is now toxic due to the after effects of massive fires in the Texas oil fields. But more important than the trials of the road, are the moral and ethical puzzles that permeate Kira's internal monologue and much of the conversations between her and her travelling companions.

All in all, Fragments barely feels like a YA novel, especially in terms of its handling of the subject matter. Wells' never turns away from the hard questions, and resists the urge to provide the pat answers. Sure there is a definite lack of realistically described violence, so fans of Abercrombian grit need not apply. There are a few places where I found the sheer young-adult friendly dialogue a bit cringe worthy, as real teenagers would have cursed a blue-streak, but these quibbles are largely forgivable. Wells continues to mature and the intricacies of his plot and nuance of his characterization promise more rousing adventures in this fascinating setting.

Coming Attractions: Star Wars Universe

At New York Comic Con, Del Rey announced two new projects in the Star Wars universe. The first will tell a story that was first mentioned in A New Hope, but has remained a mystery ever since. The second sees a writer responsible for one of the most popular science fiction books released in recent years.

John Jackson Miller will tackle Kenobi, which details the Jedi’s master's life following  events of  Revenge of the Sith. Miller had the following to say about the project:

Kenobi is a sweeping story that’s part epic western, part high-stakes drama, part romance — but it’s all Star Wars, taking place in the early days of Obi-Wan’s exile to Tatooine. I’ve been working on this concept for years and the basics are pretty simple. The greatest hero in the galaxy faces his toughest challenge yet: He must stop being Obi-Wan — and learn to live as Ben.

The release date for Kenobi is  set for late 2013.

In other news, the third book in the upcoming “Rebels” standalone novels,  focusing on the principle characters in the original trilogy set between Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back, will feature Han Solo. The tale will be penned by James S. A. Corey, otherwise known as the writing duo of Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck. Corey's immensely popular space opera novels Leviathan Wakes and Caliban's War leave little doubt that this project will be one to watch for. 

Which of these upcoming additions to the mountain of Star Wars titles are you most looking forward to? 

Review of the Week: Wool by Hugh Howey

I love discovering new authors. It's something of a talent of mine. The Science Fiction Book Club used to help with this, exposing me to countless new authors early enough that I was often in the know about breaking books long before any of my genre minded friends. It probably helped that I read far more than most of the people in my social circle and my voracious appetite for words simply encourages my literary gluttony. But the heyday of the SFBC seems to be gone, and I see less and less new authors with mid-listers gone after just one book. So I've switched to review blogs like the excellent Staffer's Musings and Amazon. I found Hugh Howey's Wool Omnibus on Amazon for a steal and quickly dove in to his tale of a subterranean dystopia. Originally started as a series of self published novellas, Wool has gone on to win critical acclaim and has been optioned for the big screen by none other than Ridley Scott. Not that I knew any of that when I made my purchase, but I can't say I was surprised to find out about Howey's success.

Wool is set in a subterranean silo with hundreds of levels. Within the silo reside the survivors of an unknown apocalypse generations past that rendered the surface of Earth hostile to human life. Our story begins with Sheriff Halston, who has decided to commit suicide by going outside to clean. Being sent to clean is the equivalent of capital punishment in silo society. Criminals of the worst sort and all those who speak of going outside are sent outside the silo to clean the sensors that provide the only view of the outside world. Holston's wife demanded to go outside years ago, and Holston has never understood her reasons. his questions regarding her sudden change in mental state along with his long standing grief lead him to resign as Sherrif and be sent outside. When he steps outside, he is met with an unexpected sight but his protective suit fails like all others have before leaving him to die next to the withered remains of his beloved.

This opening volume of the omnibus was obviously designed as a short story and leaves the reader with more questions than answers, but Howey manages to inject Holston with enough gravitas and depth that it never feels like a cheap parlor trick. Howey's depth of characterization and choice to reveal critical information slowly keeps the reader engaged and makes for page churning pace. If I hadn't been on a vacation full of site-seeing and fantastic food, I would have finished Wool much sooner. However, my slower than usual pace allowed me to savor the world and characters of Wool and I find myself grateful for the opportunity.

The story continues with the silo's mayor travelling to the lowest depths of the structure to enlist a lowly mechanic to take the place of the deceased sheriff. Her decent by means of the central staircase that runs through the silo with the dead man's deputy gives readers a thorough understanding of life on the silo but never reads like an info dump or travelogue. Howey injects this sequence with purpose and depth by telling us about the potential sheriff through the mayor's stops to interview both her estranged father and the head of the silo's IT department who has objections to her potential appointment. Underlying all of this character and world building is a tale of yearning and romance long denied between the aging travelers. Throw in a surprise poisoning and all of the cogs of this dystopian mystery are in place to ratchet up the speed.

Newly appointed Sheriff Juliette has her hands full with a murder investigation and her own questions about her predecessor's choice to clean. She is up against the new interim-mayor and head of IT. She quickly discovers she is in over her head as she discovers a conspiracy that, if revealed, will change the lives of everyone in the silo forever. Powerful forces are aligned against her and she finds herself removed from her new position and sent back to the bowels of the silo. Determined to get to the truth, Juliette puts herself in great peril and soon finds herself sent out to clean.

Howey's characters have the same guaranteed life expectancy of George R. R, Martin's and he makes good use of this tension, leaving you to wonder when and if our heroes will meet an untimely end. And like Martin, he makes each of these characters deep enough that we always care what happens to them. Add in the fact that there is nothing heroic about these characters other than their resolve, decency, and strength and you have something extraordinary in genre fiction. There is a sense of realism in this story that many tales of this type lack. All of Howey's characters respond in ways that resonate with the reader because they like us are all too human. That is the biggest of  Wool's considerable strengths.

Howey also manages to keep readers guessing, by revealing key bits of information that, while not always unexpected or shocking, always change the landscape of the story in new and interesting ways. His action sequences are rarely explosive but are almost always pulse pounding and tense. He manages to keep readers on the edge of their metaphorical seat much like James Cameron's classic Aliens. He milks claustrophobia in new an unexpected ways, especially given the underground setting of the silo.

Pacing is solid, ratcheting up after the first two installments that are sadly much shorter than the last. There is a drag in pace in the last volume, but that is largely do to its much larger size than the preceding volumes. I didn't find it distracting at all, because of my attachment to the characters and Howey's skill at world building and starkly beautiful prose. For a guy who didn't have an agent or a publisher when he first published these novellas, Howey has nowhere to go but up.

If you aren't convinced that you should read Wool yet, let me ask you a question. Answer that and you'll have your decision. Do you like to read? If the answer is yes, buy this book. Word has it the first volume, at least, is free.

Review of the Week: Partials by Dan Wells

Imagine my surprise when I see a familiar, yet unexpected name on the cover of promising looking dystopian sci-fi tale in the young adult section of my local book store. And here I was, ready to pigeonhole Dan Wells into the supernatural horror category. Since I loved the John Wayne Cleaver trilogy, I had no problem bringing Partials home.

The human race is on the verge of extinction. Eleven years ago, genetically engineered soldiers called partials revolted and decimated the human population, releasing the RM virus that killed not only 99.9% of the population of the United States, but also kills every new child brought into the world. The partials have withdrawn leaving the remaining forty thousand humans trapped in the isolated community of East Meadow in what was Long Island, New York. The humans have rebuilt as best they can, forming a new government, education system and defense force, but the looming spectre of RM infected babies threatens to extinguish all hope for long term survival. The senate institutes the Hope Act, requiring all women under sixteen years of age to have as many children as possible in hopes that a RM resistant child will be born, and a cure can be developed. Predictably, the Hope Act is unpopular giving rise to a revolutionary group known as the Voice who are determined to force its repeal along with other unpopular policies.

Wells opens with our protagonist Kira Walker, a medical intern and virology expert watching yet another newborn die minutes after its birth from the ravages of RM. Kira fears that the Hope Act has little hope of producing an immune child. Convinced that the key to saving the species lies with source of RM, Kira puts together a group of other "plague babies" to travel outside of the safety of East Meadow and capture a partial for study.

With the massive success of Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games trilogy, there was a lot of the premise that felt like ground previously trod, but Wells' manages to turn enough elements on their heads that after just a few chapters I forgot about Katniss, Peeta and crew. Both books feature teen-aged female protagonists, a gritty dystopian future, and a shaky love triangle, but Wells grounds his tale with enough allusions to the world outside the reader's window that East Meadow feels much more tangible than Panem ever does. The political intrigue is well written and reasoned and even the villains both human and partial have a sensible rationale for their behavior.

Our protagonist, Kira, has very little in common with Katniss Everdeen. She is only passibly trained as a soldier and her real contribution to the action is that she is the one that is driving it. Kira's stubborn dedication to making a difference and curing RM is the glue that holds both the plot and her ragtag group of plague babies together. Wells does an excellent job of making Kira and her friends talk like the teenagers they are. They definitely have more adult functions in their society and more life experience than most teenagers in Well's audience, but they banter and moon over the opposite sex often enough that readers will have no trouble seeing themselves in the plague babies. As an adult, some of the more juvenile conversations seem to distract from the plot, but even then Wells keeps these character moments in their proper place, and the pacing never really suffers.

Partials tackles some pretty heavy themes in a way that is accessible for the YA market. The question of when the needs of the society outweigh the rights of the individual is front and center here. The Hope Act, while drafted to address a vital need of the human race, is vastly unpopular and impacts the rights of many of our young heroes. The opinions of Wells' cast are varied and he wisely doesn't pander to one point of view over the other, at least when it comes to the in narrative debates.

Partials concludes in a predictable manner but Wells manages to add more than a few twists and turns along the way, providing a feel good ending with room for future installments. A quick look at Amazon shows another full length novel and an upcoming novella. Based on his first installment, I'd say Wells has another hit series on his hands, and fans of the adventures of young Miss Everdeen, should definitely give this series a look.