The Iron Wyrm Affair by Lilith Saintcrow

Long before I made my first foray into fantasy novels aimed at adults, I was fascinated with Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories. For many years, my collection of all of the Holmes stories was the largest and most well worn book on my shelf. So when I saw the cover of The Iron Wyrm Affair and was immediately reminded of not only the Guy Ritchie movie featuring Tony Stark, but of some of my fondest reading memories from my adolescence. The back cover copy only further peaked my curiosity, teasing me with a seminal quote from Doyle as a final line. Take a look for yourself.

Emma Bannon, forensic sorceress in the service of the Empire, has a mission: to protect Archibald Clare, a failed, unregistered mentath. His skills of deduction are legendary, and her own sorcery is not inconsiderable. It doesn't help much that they barely tolerate each other, or that Bannon's Shield, Mikal, might just be a traitor himself. Or that the conspiracy killing registered mentaths and sorcerers alike will just as likely kill them as seduce them into treachery toward their Queen.

In an alternate London where illogical magic has turned the Industrial Revolution on its head, Bannon and Clare now face hostility, treason, cannon fire, black sorcery, and the problem of reliably finding hansom cabs.

The game is afoot..

Based on that information alone, you might think I'd love this book. It has magic, mystery, and what sounds like a mechanical dragon based on the title, and it is influenced by one of the most beloved authors of my adolescence. I approached The Iron Wyrm Affair from that place, ready to be thrilled and entertained. Sadly, while the concept is certainly compelling, the execution left quite a bit to be desired. The Iron Wyrm Affair is a mess on so many levels that even Saintcrow's best efforts are buried under the weight of her awkward prose and poor execution of some of the most basic concepts of good storytelling. I desperately wanted to like this novel, but try as I might I just couldn't look past its flaws.

My largest gripe with this first installment of the Bannon and Clare series, is the prose. While I certainly understand what Saintcrow is attempting, using the prose to convey an homage to the language of the stories that inspired the novel, to ground it and give it a familiar feel for the reader, the execution is simply too poor to be anything but a distraction from the tale itself. Full of awkward phrasing and repetitive descriptions the prose bears little real resemblance to the writings of Doyle or his contemporaries. Peppering the prose with indulgent word choices with very little in the way of context, really hampered my enjoyment of the novel. A simpler, less stylized prose would have served the novel much better in my opinion. As it stood, the barrier of the language used was almost too much to overcome.

The thing that kept me reading past my issues with the narrative voice, was the concepts Saintcrow used when constructing her alternate London (Londinium in the books). I was intrigued by many of the concepts, sorcerors working hand in hand with mentaths (though I was often reminded of Herbert's Dune, every time I saw the title), ancient dragons sharing the page with clockwork constructs that resemble powered armor or mecha, and a spirit that rules through choosing hosts from British royalty. While none of this is new, the particular mix that Saintcrow devises is full of its own particular flavor and begs for exploration. It's how these elements are explored that left me cold.

While I'm a big fan of writers who exemplify the "show don't tell" philosophy of storytelling, there are times when telling is the only option, and Saintcrow does precious little of it. The particulars of sorcery or Clare's abilities as a mentath are only loosely explained and rarely in the moment when the reader needs answers to better frame the current action. Magic is ever present in Londinium, but Saintcrow seems content to just throw term after term at the reader with zero exposition to frame it. I usually can overlook these things, being patient enough to wait for things to be made clear, but Saintcrow delivers these explanations and clarifications far too late, and I felt that some light exposition should definitely be present far earlier in the narrative.

There are other issues, such as the heroine of the story being seemingly irresistible to every male character she encounters despite the fact her personality is simultaneously cold and thorny for most of her interactions with her male cast mates. Clare's deductive capabilities are poorly used, with Saintcrow never showing the sequence of logic that leads to the mentath's leaps of understanding. Clare's big moments are often just a mess of dialogue that equates to magic hand waving, and is ultimately unsatisfying and make it harder to maintain my suspension of disbelief.

Despite all of the clever ideas and intriguing premises, I doubt I will give the Bannon and Clare series another go. The antiquated and poorly executed prose and unsatisfying level of exposition on critical concepts left me too cold, for even the most engaging of other aspects to keep me reading.

God Save the Queen by Kate Locke

Kate Locke's God Save the Queen has been pinging my radar for a good while now, but I'd stayed away from it for a very specific reason. I just don't really enjoy steampunk. Not that Locke's novel is actually steampunk, but the cover put me to thinking it might be. But I just kept running into the bloody novel every time I turned around, and decided that the universe was trying to tell me something. So I broke down and bought it. The lesson it seems is one of the ones I learned in elementary school; Never judge a book by its cover. Locke delivers page turner full of memorable characters, action, humor and a unique atmosphere that practically drips off the page. God Save the Queen may not fit comfortably in any of the common classifications of genre, but its definitely earns the label of 'unabashedly good'.

The blurb from the publisher:

Queen Victoria rules with an immortal fist. 

The undead matriarch of a Britain where the Aristocracy is made up of werewolves and vampires, where goblins live underground and mothers know better than to let their children out after dark. A world where being nobility means being infected with the Plague (side-effects include undeath), Hysteria is the popular affliction of the day, and leeches are considered a delicacy. And a world where technology lives side by side with magic. The year is 2012 and Pax Britannia still reigns.

Xandra Vardan is a member of the elite Royal Guard, and it is her duty to protect the Aristocracy. But when her sister goes missing, Xandra will set out on a path that undermines everything she believed in and uncover a conspiracy that threatens to topple the empire. And she is the key-the prize in a very dangerous struggle.

The greatest strength of Locke's writing is its atmosphere. From the opening page, she establishes a distinct sense of setting and tone, painting the world of her alternate London in hues both familiar and unsettlingly strange. Despite the strangeness, the vampire and werewolves, the slight alterations to modern technology and the anachronistic feel of a British Empire that refuses to let go of the past, God Save the Queen is chock full of authenticity.

The protagonist, Xandra Vardan, is the most easily identifiable reason for this. The story is told from a close first person point of view, and Xandra's conflicted loyalties between her family and her sense of duty to the Crown give us a unique perspective as her perceptions of the people and world around begin to crumble. She is both well informed and completely in the dark, leaving her to question everything including her own sanity at times. It is this pervasive sense of doubt, that makes Xandra so relatable. She doesn't know truth from lies and her resulting paranoia softens her more pedestrian role as the kick-ass female herione of urban fantasy.  She may be more than formidable in a fight, as Locke shows often and frequent but she doesn't know where to direct her considerable talents in the web of lies and propaganda she finds herself ensnared in.

The secondary characters are likewise well rounded, especially her siblings. All the interactions between Xandra and her brother and sisters feel exactly like the petty family dramas that will be familiar to many readers. Xandra's love interest, Vexation McLaughlin, Alpha of the Wolves of Scotland felt a bit too Gabaldonian to me, but was nonetheless a well nuanced and likable love interest. The relationship that grows between he and Xandra doesn't seem forced and plays rather naturally, excepting the fact that things develop pretty quickly from what appears to be a one-nighter. I think Locke wants us to believe its roots are in the animalistic natures of the characters, so we can suspend a little extra disbelief at which they find themselves in so comfortable a relationship. It niggled me a bit, but the didn't distract me from the plot by being too much. Hopefully, the relationship will hit a rock or two in the sequel because Vex, is a bit too perfect, which seems a bit too much like wish fullfillment for me.

The only character I felt got shorted in the nuance department was the villain. I felt that there were layers to his character that should have been expanded on, or explored more. It probably didn't hurt at all that his identity never felt like a big reveal to me. The plot, while seeming like all good conspiracy theories to center around who the big bad is, was really about the truth about Xandra's importance and how she comes to term with the change in her personal status quo. Which makes Locke's choice to focus almost solely on her heroine the wise one.

While having no real experience with real world London, I enjoyed the heavy British flavor, though I've heard complaints that it was a bit over the top. But I felt it added a sense of identity to the novel that set it apart from most of the urban fantasy I've read. I would defend Locke's choices by saying, that while
the dialect and slang used may not be representative of the real London of 2012, that the London of God Save the Queen, is most certainly not intended to be representative of the real world at all. If we can suspend our disbelief enough for a vampire queen that has ruled England for almost two hundred years, why can't we accept the fact that the dialect of this ficticious version of London hasn't evolved along the same lines as our own. I found it a bit tongue in cheek, and it fit the tone that Locke was trying to establish.

My only real consistant complaint was that there were a few things that felt repetitive in the narrative. I quickly grew weary of the number of the times we were told how much Xandra and one of her many relations look alike. There were some other particular bits of prose that were repetititve but that one was the only one I found truly distracting.

The action sequences were well written, and fit with personality of Xandra very well. There was very little in the way of tactical though, or complex martial choreography. It was full of bashing, jobbing, and good old fashioned scrapping. It didn't take itself too seriously, and was a well played through out. It's nice to have fight scenes that I find no need to deconstruct or evaluate for realism in the least, that are as natural and unpredictable as a tavern brawl.

As the beginning of the Immortal Empire series, God Save the Queen sets the bar pretty high, while laying out many compelling conflicts, characters, and just enough mystery and uncertainty to keep readers thirsty for another hit off the vein, but Locke wisely tells a tight and complete story all the same. It may not be 'steampunk' afterall, and I'm glad I gave Xandra and Kate Locke the chance to earn my continued patronage. Bloody well done, indeed.

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.  

Coming Attractions: The Rithmatist by Brandon Sanderson

If you mash steampunk, young adult fiction, and the incredible imagination of Brandon Sanderson what do you get? Apparently you get Sanderson's next full length novel due for release some time in 2013. Brandon's publisher, Tor has released the following cover art and blurb for what sounds like something completely different for the epic fantasy mainstay. 

"The Rithmatist is an epic fantasy set in an alternate version of our world—a world in which life in the American Isles is threatened by the attacks of mysterious creatures known as Wild Chalklings. Chalklings are two-dimensional drawings that can be infused with life by Rithmatists and it is the job of the Rithmatists to keep the Wild Chalkings at bay. 

You may wonder how a two-dimensional drawing could possibly be a threat. Here’s the answer: Wild Chalklings scurry across the ground like scorpions or land piranhas, and bite chunks out of your feet. At which point you fall to the ground and they swarm you. Enough said.

The Rithmatist is about a 14-year-old kid named Joel who wants desperately to be a Rithmatist. But he wasn’t Chosen, so he doesn’t have the ability to bring chalklings or Rithmatic lines to life. All he can do is watch as The Rithmatist students at Armedius Academy learn the mystical art that he would give anything to practice. Then Rithmatist students start disappearing, kidnapped from their rooms at night, leaving only trails of blood. Joel’s professor asks him to help investigate—putting Joel and his friend Melody on the trail of a discovery that could change Rithmatics—and their world—forever…."

Are you intrigued enough by the concept to delve into this story? Or is Sanderson's track record for excellent enough to guarantee your purchase. I know, I'll be checking it out.