Engraved on the Eye by Saladin Ahmed

One of the most unique new voices in the genre belongs to Saladin Ahmed. His debut novel Throne of the Crescent Moon was the very first debut novel I reviewed. So when I heard that Ridan Publishing was releasing a collection of Ahmed's short fiction, I was understandably excited. With a low price and an immediate release date, I snatched it up and blocked out some quality time with the e-reader.

Fans of Throne of the Crescent Moon will be pleased to know that Ahmed chooses to open this collection with another story of Dr. Adoulla Mahkslood and Raseed bas Raseed. Where Virtue Lives tells the tale of the venerable ghul hunter's first meeting and subsequent adventure with the young dervish. Ahmed does an excellent job of showcasing the vastly different world views of these two signature characters while demonstrating the wisdom of their partnership. Fans of the series will be right at home, but Ahmed also provides just enough background detail to reveal the rich setting that is Dhamsawaat. As always, Ahmed has a moral in mind. Raseed's revelation that the virtue he prizes so highly might come from unexpected sources is the heart of this glimpse into the early days of our heroes.

The collection continues with two more stories set in the world of The Throne of the Crescent Moon. The first, Hooves and the Hovel of Abdel Jameela tells the story of a court physiker who is temporarily exiled from the Caliph's court to the backwaters of the kingdom because of his own impertinence. While in Beit Zujaaj, he hears of a hermit of questionable parentage who lives on the outskirts of the village and is the subject of all manner of small town suspicion and gossip. When he is called upon to help the hermit's ailing wife he is faced with something out of nightmare that promises him his heart's desire and a return to court besides. This entry reads like a fairy tale, and is rich with Ahmed's signature style. He definitely adds a new layer to the flavor of his most famous setting. 

The final tale in a familiar setting is the excellent Judgement of Swords and Souls. Set in the Lodge of God, home of the blue garbed Dervishes, this story tells the tale of Layla bas Layla. She has come into conflict with many of the Shaykhs due to her choice to wear a red scarf handed down by her deceased mother against the traditions of her adopted family. Layla is caught in a power struggle between the current head of the order and those who would weaken his position, but chooses to stick by her oath to wear the scarf despite the objections of those who would persecute her for breaking an unwritten and obscure dictum. The clash that follows changes both the direction of the Lodge and the path of Layla's life and I, for one, hope that this character makes an appearance in the sequel to Throne of the Crescent Moon. Ahmed's choice to reveal more detail about the organization that shaped Raseed bas Raseed was inspired, giving us an insight into a beloved character while adding yet another layer of depth to the setting and hopefully another character as well. 

The rest of the collection are unconnected to the world that has brought Ahmed such critical acclaim, but were all published previously. Some were even contenders for both the Nebula and Campbell awards. These accolades are well earned. These stories, perhaps more than Throne of the Crescent Moon, reveal more about the author and his thoughts on his place as an Arab-American dealing with a society that preaches acceptance on one hand and yet is so full of judgement and prejudice on the other. In Doctor Diablo Goes Through The Motions, Ahmed tells the story of a super-powered criminal who's observations on his fellows and adversaries is full of equal parts razor-sharp sarcasm and astute commentary on racial stereotypes and the criminal justice system. While I doubt this character could support a longer story, I found myself loving his wit and weariness and was saddened by the necessary brevity of his tale. 

Given recent events on the global stage, I found General Akmed's Revenge? to be the most thought provoking tale in the collection. This story explores the dichotomy of an immigrant's love/hate relationship with his adopted home, shining a spotlight on the prejudices and stereotyping that is all too present in American society. As a Southerner, I'm all too familiar with the themes of this story. While I certainly don't share the reprehensible traits presented, the stark focus of this story made me more than a little uncomfortable. And that is the true strength of this story, which deftly balances commentary with unexpected humor. More than anything else contained in this volume, General Akmed's Revenge? begs to be read. 

My favorite story of the collection was the surprising mash-up of Arab flavor and the Old West, Mister Hadj's Sunset Ride. Reminiscent of the Charles Bronson flick, Red Sun, Ahmed tells the story of a bounty hunter from 'Araby' and his young partner who is on the trail of a trio of deadly outlaws who hide their villainy behind a thin facade of Jesus-loving clap-trap. It wouldn't surprise me at all if this story didn't inspire the adventures of Raseed and Abdoulla. And like its more famous cousin, this story is full of magic, menace, and monsters. I was left wanting much more of this setting. 

The final two stories in the collection, The Faithful Soldier, Prompted and Iron Eyes and the Watered Down World, center around devotion and importance of family. The Faithful Soldier, Prompted is the story of man who believes he is being led to a cure for his ailing lover by a long obsolete piece of in-bedded technology from his youth in the military. Besides being an interesting take on the 'ghost in the machine' concept, this story is at its heart a tale of the lengths one man will go to to protect the love of his life. Ahmed explores prejudice again here but takes a different tack, zeroing in on the bigotry that exists within racial bounds. This didn't impact me as much as the previous story, but is nonetheless right on the money. 

Ahmed ends with a ghost story wrapped in an intriguing fantasy setting in Iron Eyes and the Watered Down World. This story follows a trio of adventurers as they try to recover a stolen memento from the world weary widower who is the wounded heart of their band. While the intensity of the protagonist's need to recover his cherished possession is all too understandable, the motivation for the theft seems arbitrary until the very end, where Ahmed wraps it all up nicely with a life changing revelation. After the hard-edged, thought provoking subject matter of the proceeding stories, it was a welcome relief.  

All in all, I have rarely read a collection of shorts that was as well polished and satisfying as Engraved on the Eye. Both fans of Throne of the Crescent Moon and those unfamiliar with Saladin Ahmed would be doing themselves a disservice in passing up on this engaging and thought-provoking collection from one of the rising stars of the genre. 

Review of the Week: The Blinding Knife by Brent Weeks

Obviously, I read a lot. I'm at fifty two books so far this year. And this year hasn't been a year with a string of mediocre fiction. 2012 has been the year of Ready Player One, Control Point, The Night Circus, Wool and World War Z. I'll just come out and say it, The Blinding Knife is the best book I've read this year.

I've not been bashful about my love for Brent Weeks' books. My original intention was to write a You Should Be Reading post about him before reviewing The Blinding Knife. But this book was too good to wait even a week to review. Justin over at the excellent Staffer's Musings has this to say:

"I've read all five of Brent Weeks' published novels and it's a certainty that he's evolving with every book. With The Blinding Knife, I believe he's entered a new stratosphere and one that puts him on par with anyone who's written these kinds of stories. It isn't only the best book he's written; I consider it one of the best epic fantasies I've read."  

I couldn't agree more. Like Justin, I've read all of Weeks' fiction, and it's all been excellent. The Night Angel trilogy was excellent and is often a feeder series I recommend to friends unfamiliar with the genre. The Black Prism, which starts the Lightbringer series that The Blinding Knife continues, has one of the best plot twists that I can recall in any book I've read. I often compare that reveal to the end of The Sixth Sense when describing the book to friends. So yeah, I'm a fan. But I felt like Weeks' was either holding back or getting ready for something even better, and boy was I right. The Blinding Knife is a masterwork of a novel (I know at least eighty percent of you get the reference) full of exquisitely drawn and believable characters, a surprisingly intricate magical system, break-neck pacing and more "no he didn't" moments than Rush Limbaugh's entire career.

Since The Blinding Knife is the second installment in a series, I'll start with some background information. The Lightbringer series is set in the Seven Satrapies loosely reminiscent of the Mediterranean. The Satrapies are ruled by two part government consisting of the more secular Prism and the White, a religious leader not unlike the Pope. The Black Prism spends a lot of time explaining the intricacies and history of the setting as well as explaining the magical system of drafting different colors of light into varying types of matter. Drafting impacts society on almost every level. Architecture, religion, and education are all effected and Weeks lays the groundwork well, even if it is understandably a bit long winded at points. With all of the groundwork established, The Blinding Knife jumps right in assuming the readers are more than familiar with the premise and all of its considerable detail. Even though I didn't remember every nuance of the magic system or setting, Weeks layers reminders though out the plot in a fashion that never felt forced and in no time at all, the mechanical bits faded into the background allowing me to fully engage in the gripping tale of Weeks' cast of characters.

Weeks' created a truly extraordinary magical system. With drafters able to create virtually anything through drafting the portion of the spectrum that they can control, Weeks' would seem to be in danger of falling into Green Lantern territory. But he sidesteps any but the most superficial comparison because of the depth of detail built into the magic system. The material created through drafting, called luxin, has physical properties that change depending on its color. Adding even more depth is the psychological implications of drafting, each color exerts a different influence on the drafter. Some make the user more impulsive and others more emotionally detached. Weeks uses all of these details to good effect through the course of the novel, giving drafters unwanted side effects to using their magic. I love this system of magic, finding it on par with the creations of other industry heavyweights such as Brandon Sanderson and the late Robert Jordan.

As deft as Weeks' magic system and setting are, what sets The Blinding Knife apart from the many excellent novels I've read this year is Weeks' gift for characterization. Weeks continues with the adventures of the cast from The Black Prism; Gavin, Kip, Karris, and Liv adding a handful of other characters along the way. His handling of Kip and Liv impressed me the most, as both adolescents struggle to find where their true identity separates from the people their station and circumstances dictate that they should be. Their voyages couldn't be more dissimilar by the end of the novel, but the common thread of facing the consequences of their own mistakes binds them together to form the heart of the book for me. Weeks embodies them both with the foolishness and vulnerability of youth in a way that makes the reader cringe when they choose poorly against all sense, and cheer when they triumph not only against those who would attempt to control them. The other characters, including the secondary ones are equally conflicted while faced with their own moral and ethical dilemmas. This is a novel about choices, and Weeks' characters don't hesitate to make mistakes and the price is often dearer coin that they ever expected.

Weeks does wonders with the antagonists in The Blinding Knife, particularly with Gavin's father Andross Guile, member of the Spectrum who rules the Seven Satrapies under the guidance of the White and the Prism. Every scene that Andross appears in positively drips with menace even though their is little to no threat of actual violence. Andross is a puller of strings, a master of working from the shadows and much like our characters I started to see his skeletal hand everywhere. I found myself looking forward to his meetings with the other members of the Guile family more than any scene with the more obvious threat of the Color Prince who was moving to invade the Seven Satrapies at the head of a nearly unstoppable army of drafters. If you love to hate Lord Littlefinger in George R. R.Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire, you should do yourself a favor and get to know Andross Guile right away.

Another standout aspect of The Blinding Knife is the pacing. This book reads more like a James Patterson thriller (one of the good ones, anyway) than Frodo's adventures in Middle Earth. There are over a hundred chapters in six hundred and twenty-five pages. Readers will have a hard time putting this book down to sleep, work, or spend time with their families. The plot is intricate with plenty of twists and turns and Weeks surprised me over and over again to the point that I was almost weary with the shock. Amazingly enough, even with the exhausting pace and metric ton of twists I never saw coming, I could have easily have read for another hundred chapters. To tell it true, I would have read this book until my eyes bled and called it a joy.

I think that in a few years readers will look back at The Blinding Knife as the point where Brent Weeks went from being an up-and-comer to an author whose name belongs next to stalwarts of the genre like Martin, Jordan, and Brooks. Run, don't walk and get this book. You won't regret it.

A Momentous Squee

I know the title of this post is rather undignified but lets just face facts, anyone who loves books enough to spend this much time writing about them is a fan. And getting a mention on a favorite author's website is certainly squee-worthy. So, imagine my surprise when I discovered when perusing Twitter this morning that one of my first reviews was mentioned in a review round up of sorts by none other than Peter V. Brett, author of the Demon Cycle Series. I featured Brett in my second You Should Be Reading post, and am looking forward to interviewing him, once he completes the manuscript for the highly anticipated The Daylight War. I am in good company too, with Justin from my favorite genre blog Staffer's Musings listed as well. Here's a screen shot. I can't help it, I have to brag.

They say a job well done is its own reward. I'm sure they're right, but things like this aren't bad either. Screw that, they're freaking awesome. Thanks for letting me share, we will continue with more dignified postings soon. 

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.

Interview: Ken Scholes

I'm very pleased that my first interview for the blog is with Ken Scholes. I chose Ken for my very first You Should Be Reading , both for the caliber of his fiction and my experiences interacting with him as a fan, which predate this blog by a number of years. Ken has been doing really interesting things in the genre for years and  sadly, at least in my area, doesn't get the attention he so richly deserves. Ken was gracious enough to commit to an interview during my very first week writing this blog. Deadlines, revisions, children and vacations have slowed the pace a bit, but we've managed to get the planets aligned properly and the day is finally here. My questions and Ken's thorough and revealing answers are posted below.

52 Reviews: The Psalms of Isaak is something decidedly different than most epic fantasy. In fact, it seems inaccurate to label at as fantasy at all. Even the opening sequences of Lamentation hint that this world is far more than the stereotypical fantasy setting it may seem to be. I've noticed that as the series progresses we see more and more science fiction creeping in to the story, not just as window dressing, but as a starring role in the story. I liken it to being something of a mirror to the way the use and prevalence of magic rises in George R. R, Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. Was that your plan from the beginning or did this element of the story grow in the telling?

Ken Scholes:The Psalms of Isaak was initially imagined as a series of four interconnected short stories but the notion that it was actually SF buried in Fantasy has always been there – the robot is a dead-giveaway, I’m told.  I drew a lot from Clarke’s famous quote about any sufficiently advanced technology would appear as magic to a less advanced society.  

That said, some of it has surprised me as I’ve “discovered” it in the writing process.  Winters and Neb’s story arc around the Home-Seeker’s Dream was something that showed up in Lamentation to surprise me – aspects of that story were already taking shape in another project I was contemplating, The 100th Tale of Felip Carnelyin:  The Ship that Sailed the Moon. I was surprised when that showed up in the story and then, in between writing Canticle and Lamentation, I fleshed out the idea a bit more in my novelette, “A Weeping Czar Beholds the Fallen Moon.”   Of course, I’ve incorporated Carnelyin into my Psalms of Isaak mythos and now see a trilogy shaping up around that 100th tale and how it changes their world.   

52 Reviews: Your background as a former minister is an obvious influence on the world of the Named Lands. Does the journey of the Androfrancine Order mirror your own spiritual path?

Ken Scholes: In some ways, surely.  My Androfrancines, of course, are secular humanists who’ve capitalized on the trappings of religion in their effort to keep humanity alive.  The series explores that notion and how far they’re willing to go to protect themselves and their mission.  Then it introduces a more metaphysical variety of faith (via the Y’Zirites and the Marshfolk) to that mix.  My own journey through fundamentalist and ecumenical Christianity to eventually reach a rational worldview free of religion is certainly reflected in the series.  More than anything, I’ve wanted to create a sandbox where I can play with the ideas I’ve had along my own path.  I also think that my background is an influence in that I have a degree in history in addition to having been a minister – in telling the Psalms of Isaak, I’ve wanted to tell the equivalent of an otherworldly biblical epic but from the framework of the supernatural elements being technology so far beyond our reach that it would feel like fantasy to  those in the midst of the tale.  And all of my time immersed in religious texts and mythology, I think, both as a believer and as a non-believer of those texts and myths, has helped me (I hope) bring out that flavor.

52 Reviews: Part of what makes your character's so believable is because of the obvious effect your real life experiences seem to have shaped their stories. Your spiritual journey from a member of the clergy to choosing a different path of spirituality and faith seem to be a large influence on both the character of Petronus and the shape of his story. I suspect that some parts of your childhood may have given Neb a similar dose of reality as well. Are there other less obvious parts of the author hiding behind our favorite characters? 

Ken Scholes: I do dig a lot of the raw material for my characters out of my own psyche and experiences.  Petronus’s path is certainly a lot like my own, though I would say at this point, after spending most of my life on a  spiritual, faith-based path I’m on one now that is rooted in a rational, secular worldview.  And yes, there are definitely aspects of my Unfortunate Trailer Boy Childhood that show up, not just in Neb but in Rudolfo as well.  SPOILER ALERT:  For instance, in Lamentation, Rudolfo names the metal man he finds after a brother we learn (later) died when he was small.  My brother’s death when I was four years old was one of those major life-shaping events.  To some degree, all of the characters are me.

And yet others are re-imaginings of friends and family.  Gregoric is my pal John Pitts.  Renard is my childhood friend Robert.  Jin Li Tam is my wife, Jen, and her friend and one-time wetnurse to Lord Jakob – Lynnae – is our friend Aimee.  Petronus is based on my friend Jerry in addition to a bit of myself.  Esarov the Democrat is based on Jay Lake.  In some instances, I put people in the story as a gift to them or as a way of honoring them and it’s very intentional.  Other times, I see it in hindsight.  Of course, they’re all fictionalized thoroughly before I’m done with them.  And I never write people into my books that I’m at odds with.

And Rudolfo is all me.  Especially his hedonism and charm.  Not so much his ruthlessness.  Or his skill with the knives.

52 Reviews: It's interesting that the titular character of the series, the mechanoservitor Isaak, is the only person in the main cast that doesn't have any point of view chapters. Why did you choose to make such a central character the most removed from the narrative in a direct sense?

Ken Scholes: It was definitely a conscious choice to not give him a POV.  I wanted our understanding of him to be derived entirely from his interactions with the humans in his life and to allow the inner workings of his mind to be cut off from us.  I also wanted him to have that otherworldly quality – that sense of being set apart -- from the other players in the story.  And as Isaak grows and develops, I’m discovering that this was a good call on my part because now, in the fourth volume, he is privy to much information that would make him tricky as an actual POV character because I’d have to conceal his knowledge from the readers.

52 Reviews: The idea of a mechanical man becoming human is a theme in countless stories including Pinocchio and the Wizard of Oz. But for Isaak, humanity seems to be more of an unintentional side-effect that brings the mechoservitor pain. What led you to choose this alternative take on the classic quest for humanity?

Ken Scholes: I was influenced a great deal, as a child, by the metal men of my youth.  Rex in Del Rey’s Runaway Robot, Baum’s Tin Woodman, Pinocchio, C3P0, Twiki.  And that notion of a robot wishing they were human has been done a lot.  This is actually not the first time I’ve played with the idea of a  mechanical creature being forced to become more due to disaster and trauma – one of my earliest short stories in the world, “Edward Bear and the Very Long Walk,” deals with this very notion.  

I can see why writers in the past might want to create mechanical beings who aspire to be like their creators – and usually it’s dressed up as a noble endeavor.  But with Isaak, I saw a metal man who aspired for nothing other than to be what he was designed to be, then forced to embrace a growing sense of his own humanity as a result of being betrayed and transformed by that betrayal…by humans.  And I wanted to explore how that would play itself out among his metal tribe along with those who found him, those who built and scripted him, and later, in his relationship with the friends and enemies he makes along the way.

52 Reviews: Based on comments you've made in previous interviews, you seem to fall largely in the camp of discovery writers. Were there times when the plot or characters of the novel chose to drive the narrative to an unexpected place? Which of these trips down the rabbit holes do you think improved the story the most? 

Ken Scholes: I do tend to be a discovery writer though I’ve also outlined and seem to just grab hold of whatever tool I need in the moment that I need it.  I’ll do less discovery as I write Hymn but that may be because it’s the last book and I’m feeling very protective of it.  I’m planning to sit down with the first four books to read them carefully with a notebook nearby.  Then, I’ll create a big picture outline based on a three act structure – both of the volume itself and of the series – to make sure I hit the places I want to hit.  

As a discovery writer, I’m often surprised where my redneck muse (Leroy) takes me.  There have been some cool discoveries – I like the term rabbit holes – that I think strengthened the book.  Neb and Winters “home-seeking” storyline is a good example.  When I started Lamentation I was doing some things with tropes in the epic fantasy genre – the dashing prince, the dangerous courtesan-spy, the wise but hidden king.  Of course something was missing – an orphan to save the world.  Neb and eventually, Winters, became those orphans.  And ultimately, I lifted a large portion of unexpected backstory (quite spontaneously) from a short novel I had intended to write called The 100th Tale of Felip Carnelyin:  The Ship that Sailed the Moon. That’s now shaping up to be a trilogy of its own at some point as the backstory of Lasthome becomes more clear in the writing of the Psalms of Isaak. And in my original conception of the series, Winters and Vlad Li Tam were not POV characters but I think the richness of the series was really enhanced by their storylines being added to the mix.  I’m especially pleased with what I’ve “discovered” about Vlad Li Tam over the course of the four books I’ve written.  In Requiem, I think he even steals the show a little.  And I don’t want to spoil things, but the Big Important Thing that happens to Petronus at the end of Canticle was another discovery I made as I was writing.

Ultimately, even with an outline to guide me, I’m primarily a writer who follows the instinctive pull of the story.  I frequently feel like the characters themselves are surprising me as I get to know them by throwing rocks at them and watching what they do with those rocks.

52 Reviews: Having just finished reading Walter M. Miller Jr's A Canticle For Leibowitz, I was struck with the idea that Lamentation also deals with the theme of mankind's misuse of knowledge and inability to learn from the mistakes of the past, locking humanity in a vicious cycle of moving from apocalypse to apocalypse. Was Miller's novel an influence? Or is there a different message you hope readers will gain through the story?

Ken Scholes: The comparison has come up before, especially given that the second book in the series is called Canticle.  But any influence it might’ve had was just cooking in my crockpot brain all this time – I read Miller’s book probably thirty years ago while in high school.  There’s definitely a similar theme – the notion that humanity’s self-destructive nature and its tenacity for survival are a continuing cycle.  In this particular story, we’re in a very distant future dealing with the same issues.  More than a message, I think the series is an exploration of that theme along with themes like the role of religion as a tool or a weapon and how people deal with trauma.  The role of technology as a tool or a weapon and how people respond to change and betrayal.  And I don’t present these as explorations for my reader though they’ll follow along.  They are my own explorations, really.  But first and foremost, my real goal is to tell a good story and keep people strapped into the series, ready for the next book.

52 Reviews: When you think about thematic elements to both the series and the individual novels, do you have specific goal in mind, a unifying moral or principle that shades the journeys of your characters? If so, what would you say the theme for the volumes of the series thus far? How about for Requiem? 

Ken Scholes: I think those elements are there though for the most part, I’m not consciously crafting them.  

The one thing I’ve tried to do with each book is tie the title in to that specific book.  So Lamentation is about the raw, violence of sudden loss and our reaction to it.  In Canticle, I introduce the song that the title derives from but I also tie it back to the idea that life is a non-metrical song.  An antiphon is a response to a canticle so the third volume, all about that response being shaped, fell into place nicely.  In Requiem, we’re back to loss again but of more internal things alongside the external.  And in the finale, Hymn, I’ll steer us in a direction that brings that title more to life.  

I don’t think there is a unifying moral or principle or a specific goal but if there is, I probably will need to complete the series and have some time for hindsight to grow.  But with my characters, I start with figuring out what they love and what they fear, then force them to deal with their fears in pursuit of what they love or long for.  And then, as they achieve what they love, I try to find new fears as a result of laying hold of what they love.  For instance, Rudolfo’s story arc around becoming a husband and a father in the midst of such dark times takes him down an interesting path as he realizes he cannot protect what he loves the most – his sense of powerlessness and how he deals with that is a quiet part of the series but I think critical to him as a character.  

52 Reviews: Take an opportunity to brag about the newest addition to the ranks of your paper children. Give us a preview of what we can expect from the Named Lands within the pages of Requiem?

Ken Scholes: Requiem is the first book that I’ve written where I finished and thought “Wow, this is a good book.”  That’s mostly a reflection of my growth as a writer becoming more confident in a new medium.  Until Lamentation, I’d never written anything longer than 15,000 words.  With the first two books of the series, I was utterly convinced they were bad and broken books – it took a five book contract and a lot of kind notes from readers to turn that belief around and I grew to appreciate the books over time.  With Antiphon, I remember thinking, “Well, it’s an okay book; it doesn’t suck.”  So it’s nice to reach a place of more confidence here with the fourth novel.  

Ken Scholes: It would be tricky to say much about Requiem without spoiling things for folks who’ve not read the series.  But all the major players are back and we get to travel to some new places.  And I introduce a new character named Marta that I’m quite fond of – another show stealer, I think.  And…well…rather than go on about it, how about I just point readers to the prelude and they can read it or not as they wish?  You can find it here.


52 Reviews: Congratulations on completing Requiem. I noticed you mentioned "book post partum" on your Facebook page. One would think that finishing a manuscript would be more of a euphoric experience. Could you tell us a little about that part of the creative process?

Ken Scholes: Well, the initial experience is certainly euphoric.  But there’s also a lot of exhaustion involved, particularly with this fourth book.  It was written over a much longer stretch of time – nearly two years – and during some times of tremendous stress, loss and gain.  I wrote Requiem while holding down a full time job and parenting brand new twin daughters while navigating various losses and a debilitating Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  The book was a hard labor and that final month of pushing out the first draft and the revision were grueling.  That said, it also re-kindled my love for writing after about five years of it not being something I loved too much given the circumstances under which I was doing it.

But regardless, each book has been wrapped with a burst of initial euphoria followed within a day or so by a foggy depression that gets gradually better with time, rest and putting my brain back into other people’s stories rather than my own.  In talking to other writers, it seems to be a pretty common thing.  I suspect that it really comes from finally finishing a project that’s required a lot of work and time – the brain and the body are just tired from all the input and output around that focus and it needs time to rest, reflect and prepare for the next big project.  And I’m still in the fog of it even now, but am gradually nosing the car back onto the highway to  get on with my next projects.  I’ll play with some short fiction for a few months and then, around Thanksgiving, I’ll start gearing up to write Hymn.

Many thanks to Ken for taking time out of his busy schedule to take part in our inaugural interview. I'm looking forward to getting my hands on Requiem, and will definitely be sharing my thoughts with all the folks reading here.

Review of the Week: The King's Bastard by Rowena Cory Daniels

I'll admit that I bought The King's Bastard based on nothing more than the title. Insane, right? The cover did absolutely nothing for me. The shadowy color scheme and vaguely ominous backdrop took away from what could have been an intriguing figure I assumed was the protagonist. The back copy wasn't much better, leaving me wondering whether it was wise for the author to choose a concept that seemingly falls so close to the shadow cast by one of the giants of the genre. But the title is so close to an unfinished manuscript I spent some months on, that I had to check it out just for my own curiosity's sake.

The King's Bastard focuses on the family of King Rolen, whose reign over Rolencia is supported largely through his alliance with the warlords of the borderlands that stand between his kingdom and the rival nation of Merofynia, with whom he's kept an uneasy peace. Unlike in Merofynia, magic use is restricted in Rolencia.  All who possess Affinity are pressed into mandatory service in one of two religious orders or be executed. But untamed magic is loose in the land, causing more and more mystical creatures to surface threatening the peaceful and largely orderly kingdom. We meet our protagonist, Byren Kingson, who's lack of real political responsibility as the second born son of his family makes him a natural fit for hunting the Affinity touched creatures. Hi-jinks ensue and Byren meets a rouge sorceress who foretells that he will eventually shed the blood of his brother, Lence, and thus become heir to the throne. With no interest in ruling Rolencia and a deep bond with his older twin, Byren dismisses the prophesy but fate and the heir's increasingly hostile and erratic behavior seem to be propelling Byren towards his prophesied fate.

Also taking center stage are Byren's younger siblings; Fyn and Piro. Fyn is Affinity touched and has been a novice at the abbey of one of the two gods of Rolencian religion. Halycon is the god of summer and his acolytes serve the crown, most notably as a militant order and in the production of food that will protect the nation's population during the harsh winter months. Fyn, now on the brink of choosing his path within the ranks of the monastic brothers, discovers that the political maneuverings and subsequent dangers of life at the Abbey are not so different than those that plague the more noble members of his family. The youngest member of the family, Piro is nearing an age where she will be expected to marry to strengthen the peace her father has managed to craft through three decades of compromise and swift retribution to those that would threaten Rolencia, but she has been hiding her own Affinity and that secret won't stay hidden for long.

With its surface similarities to George R. R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire, I really wanted to enjoy this first installment of Daniels' trilogy. The trio of young protagonists remind me of the children of House Stark, some of my favorites in the genre. But shaky execution and a lack of depth kept this story from really taking root and even less than a week after reading it, I find myself having a hard time remembering the things that I enjoyed, while its flaws are all too apparent.

I'll start with the characters. Daniels' manages to create a trio of characters that seem at first glance to be incredibly capable and intriguing, but upon further inspection seem to have little to no agency and are simply locked into a course of events that their station or stated character traits dictate. Despite growing evidence that that the future king is hot headed, self-important, and power mad, our principle protagonist, Byren, is dedicated to doing the right thing even if it means living in his brother's shadow.  His love for his family and friends is important to him even when it stands to cost him dearly. While loyalty is to be lauded, Byren often takes it beyond all reason. Byren chooses to believe in Lence even when it is obvious that he has ill intentions not only towards Byren but to those he holds most dear. He runs all over the kingdom, cleaning up after his siblings and generally is forever reacting to the actions of others.

That by itself would be forgivable, but neither Fyn or Piro are any different. Fyn is forever being threatened, bullied, or framed and his only solution, despite being well liked and a capable warrior besides, is to plan to run away. Piro's case seems a little easier to take because of her gender and younger age, but her sole purpose in the plot seems to be to sow chaos wherever she goes, and she never seems to pay the price for it.  Daniels' seems to think her thoughtless behavior and impulsiveness can be explained away, simply by pointing out that she in on the cusp of marriage every time she does something juvenile and foolish.

Most of the secondary characters suffer from a lack of development and come off rather flat. My main complaint is that Byren's love interest, Orrade's sister Elina, has virtually no redeeming qualities and is so under developed that when her fate takes a shocking turn, I couldn't bring myself to care. Byren's reactions seemed less authentic because I felt I was being told how much she meant to him without ever being shown a compelling reason why. Other characters seem one or two note caricatures at best, even cast members as important as King Rolen and Byren's brother, Lence.

There are a few other inconsistencies that bother me about Daniels' writing. The first is that despite telling us time and time again that Affinity beasts are rare, Byren seems to encounter one every time he ventures outside of civilization. If they are rare, then by all means, let them be rare. They begin to feel like random monster encounters from a D&D game when used this frequently. More bothersome is Daniels' handling of the homosexuality of Byren's best friend, Orrade. Orrade is in love with Byren, and has taken to wearing a symbol of a traitorous warrior society that has a reputation of being composed of homosexuals. His identification with the notorious cult causes both he and Byren no end of heartache. Nothing wrong with any of this, after all ancient Greece is full of this sort of thing. The problem comes with the tendency for every person to focus on the "lover of men" label as being synonymous with being a traitor to the crown. Almost every character in the novel reacts this way, regardless of their relationship to Orrade. If Daniels really wants to explore homophobia, why not drop the attachment to this traitorous organization entirely and deal with it head on. The obfuscation doesn't help and feels like cheating to me.

There was a lot of promising world building that never seemed to bear fruit, and the secondary plot line at the Abbey was full of potential, but the flatness and lack of agency in the characters make it doubtful that I will return to the characters of The King's Bastard. Which is a shame, because I wanted to like these characters and the world they inhabited. I had hoped Rolencia would be a welcome vacation home from Westeros, but sadly it's not.

Coming Attractions: Red Country by Joe Abercrombie

I both love and fear Joe Abercrombie. Abercrombie's fiction is populated by morally repugnant and chaotically violent characters who nevertheless manage to be relatable in a way that makes me question my own moral fiber. So with trepidation and longing, I bring you an excerpt from Abercrombie's upcoming novel Red Country. Give it a read, and if you live under a rock and have yet to be converted to the ever growing cult of Joe's fans, I'm sure this small yet bloody morsel will send you to your local bookseller to grab a copy of The Blade Itself. Click on the link below the image to be sent hurtling through the interwebs to the excerpt. Enjoy.

Red Country Excerpt