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

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

And here's the story summary from the publisher:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spec. Fic. Writer's 101: Plotting with Michael J. Sullivan

I know I've been conspicuously absent from the blogsphere and I want to take a moment to sincerely apologize to everyone who has been reading and commenting on my ruminations since I started this little vanity project. Real life and my own tendency to over-extend myself got the best of me for a while but I'm back and here to stay, though I doubt I'll be as prolific as I once was. With that said, I am happy to continue the Spec. Fic Writer's series with this entry on plotting by Michael J. Sullivan. Michael's a real genre success story one of the first to go from self publishing into the wider acclaim enjoyed by those who follow the more traditional road. He's a gentleman and scholar and has been a joy to read, interview, and work with on this subject. I trust you'll find his advice as enlightening as I did. Enjoy.

In various online forums I’m usually surprised when someone new to writing asks for advice as to whether to outline their plots or is it better to be a “pantser” (develop the story as you go – named for flying by the seat of our pants). The notion that anyone would ask such a thing, as if they could will themselves into one or the other based on popular opinion, shows that people are struggling to develop techniques to help them find their way. But there is no right answer to this question, and each author needs to find what works for them. For some, outlining will destroy their creativity. They prefer to discover as their characters do. The downside is you can write yourself into a corner, which could result in abandoning the book or at least having to do significant rewriting.

I’ll share my technique, as it might be helpful to those haven’t yet found what works for them…do both.  I always start a book with a “light outline” this may mean just a few sentences per chapter, or a listing of a number of scenes that I’ve already thought about before beginning. I don’t start writing until I know where I’m heading, but, and here is the important point, that doesn’t mean you can’t change direction as the story begins to unfold.  I look at the process much like a road trip.

If I’m traveling across country I’ll start with a given route and make plans where to stop to get a bite to eat or to spend the night. Along the way I’m not so focused on the trip that I ignore something interesting that I may happen upon. I’ll take that unplanned exit, and explore that back road. Perhaps I’ll be rewarded by a really cool covered bridge or a breathtaking view. It may even give me an idea at a different destination…and that’s fine. 

Characters and plots grow naturally out of plausibility and creative bursts that redirect the story. Fighting these opportunities can result in a stiff, contrived book. The trick I found was to take those unexpected paths, but then reorient the outline to accommodate for it. The idea is to always be able to see the end from where you are in the story. If at any point you make a turn and you can’t see exactly how your story ends, then you have to stop, take an hour or so and work out the problem before starting again. Once solved, you resume until the next unexpected turn. The worst thing you can do, is push on blindly writing tens of thousands of words and find yourself in a locked room that your character can’t possible escape from.

So my outlines are pretty fluid things, and little more than skeletons with some chapters having only the single bullet point "something happens here." Here is an example of how I might have outlined the start of The Wizard of Oz.

The Farm (Depression era Mid-west)

•          Gulch arrives with court order to take Dorothy’s dog Toto
•          Dog escapes returns to Dorothy
•          Dorothy fearing for Toto’s safety runs away from home

 On The Road

•         Dorothy runs into circus performer/seer/wizard
•          Old guy scares Dorothy into going home

You can see a lot of potential problems already. There are a lot of unexplained questions. Why is Gulch upset with Toto? How does Toto escape? Who exactly is the old guy and how does he scare Dorothy into going home? And these are just plot issues. What about setting and characterization? Where does this story take place? Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma? Who is Dorothy living with—parents? What are they like? Does she have brothers and sisters? Farm hands? Neighbors?

These kinds of questions can often be explored while writing. In doing so, you can still have the fun and excitement of discovering things about the story and yet, feel secure that the story will work out in the end.

Building an outline is pretty simple. You just start with a few ideas: where the story starts; something that happens in the middle; and then the end. This gives you three bullet points. You run the story though your head a few times and you get more ideas—more points. If you’re lucky you know the anti-climax and the climax. Imagine telling your idea to someone. What questions might they ask? (Exactly how old is this Dorothy? How are you going to account for Oz?) Answering these questions add more points to the outline. After a while these bullet points work like one of those draw-by-number pages. You can sort of see the story taking shape. Still it isn’t until you begin writing, that you draw that line that connects the dots and the whole thing comes alive. A few dots might need to be moved, some erased and some added, but in the end you have a well constructed story ready for polishing.

I hope this is helpful to those trying to find their own approach. Remember, there is no single right answer (and probably why it’s asked so often).  Bottom line, the more writing you do, the closer you’ll come to developing your own system that gives you the right balance of the “fun of discoverability” and the “satisfaction of completing” a novel that follows a given story arc.

Review of the Week: Fortress Frontier by Myke Cole

Myke Cole's debut effort Control Point was one of the standouts of 2012 for me. So I was pumped to get an EARC of its sequel, Fortress Frontier, late last year. I dove in, getting about a third of the way in before finding out that reviews needed to be held until January. I had other books in queue, so I set it aside and didn't get back to it until shortly after the holidays. I was afraid that breaking up the reading might hurt my enjoyment of the story but my fears were quickly proved groundless. With Fortress Frontier, Cole dodges the sophomore slump and turns in a sequel that not only builds on the momentum and success of its predecessor but surpasses it in almost every way.

Here's the story summary provided by the publisher: 

The Great Reawakening did not come quietly. Across the country and in every nation, people began to develop terrifying powers—summoning storms, raising the dead, and setting everything they touch ablaze. Overnight the rules changed…but not for everyone.

Colonel Alan Bookbinder is an army bureaucrat whose worst war wound is a paper-cut. But after he develops magical powers, he is torn from everything he knows and thrown onto the front-lines.

Drafted into the Supernatural Operations Corps in a new and dangerous world, Bookbinder finds himself in command of Forward Operating Base Frontier—cut off, surrounded by monsters, and on the brink of being overrun.

Now, he must find the will to lead the people of FOB Frontier out of hell, even if the one hope of salvation lies in teaming up with the man whose own magical powers put the base in such grave danger in the first place—Oscar Britton, public enemy number one…

Cole's choice to start with a completely new viewpoint character instead of jumping directly back into the story of Oscar Britton, the protagonist from Control Point, was an unexpected surprise. Cole has taken a lot of criticism on the character's constant waffling and poor decision making and deftly dodges that hot button by introducing readers to Col. Bookbinder.

While I didn't find Britton's character in the least bit as objectionable, I instantly found Bookbinder to be more relatable. As a officer with no combat experience who has risen through the ranks for his organizational skills and military bureaucracy, Bookbinder was a man who is more like the rank and file reader than the battle hardened soldier, Britton. This fact made his underlying conflict of trying to navigate not only his new found magical gifts but his place as a leader of men of violence much more intriguing than Britton's angst of duty versus personal ethics if for no reason that the answers are much easier to navigate. Bookbinder, like Britton, doesn't always make the right decision but the results are in some ways a bit more satisfying in their conclusion.

Which is not to say that Oscar Britton is left behind. Cole catches us up with Oscar as he tries to make amends for the destruction his escape from the FOB wrought, before he can attempt to find his place as a fugitive from the nation he served for so long. Britton comes off better here, as he has a clearer course of action and I believe he is much more sympathetic as a result.

We also catch up with some of the secondary characters from Control Point, including Downer, Swift, and Truelove with some surprising additions that I, for one, never saw coming. Which is welcome, because I felt the new supporting cast was a bit weaker than those from the first novel.

The only thing I felt was missing was a truly compelling antagonist. With Fitzy removed at the end of Control Point, I had hoped that Cole would provide another foil for Britton to fill the gap, but with Fortress Frontier being more Bookbinder's tale than Britton's, I was left wanting.

Cole also expands the world itself, showing us not only more of the magical world of the Source and the workings of other nations within it, but also introduces a subplot of a resistance movement on the home plane against the impressment of magic users into military service. I found the differences between the U.S. and India's operations in the source and their reactions to the Great Reawakening interesting and hopes that we see more of other cultures represented in future volumes of the series. The resistance angle, while definitely nothing new was also welcome, reminding me of classic comic story lines of my youth. I think Cole could do new things with this subplot and would welcome more in this vein.

As before the actions sequences are visceral and chaotic showcasing Cole's real world knowledge of the subject and if anything they've improved from Control Point. I followed along a bit better this time, but whether or not that was due to my experience with Cole's style or a subtle shift in the writing, I couldn't say. The prose and dialogue has improved as well, showing Cole's growing maturity as a writer. While it could still be called workman-like, I don't think of that as a criticism. Every sentence propels the reader forward to the action packed conclusion, which makes setting the book down a challenge. Not a damn thing wrong with that.

If you were on the fence about Control Point, you should definitely give Fortress Frontier a go. Cole delivered a rousing sequel with all of the high stakes action and drama of the original all while expanding the world in new and exiting ways. Myke Cole is here to stay and so should you.

Spec Fic Writer's 101: World Building by Ken Scholes

Ken Scholes is, in my opinion, one of the most underrated writers in the industry, seamlessly combining disparate elements of both science fiction and fantasy in his epic fantasy series The Psalms of Isaak. His world building is sweepingly original but maintains a comfortable familiarity to long time readers of the genre. So when Ken agreed to take part in this series and asked what topic I'd like him to cover, world building was a no brainer. I found Ken's approach to both unexpected and intuitive and am sure you'll agree. Enjoy.

World-Building, Trailer Boy Style

I’m pleased and grateful that Matt asked me to participate in his series of guest posts on speculative fiction writing.  When he invited me, I asked which topic he’d like me to tackle and he suggested world-building.

Now, though I’ve created dozens of worlds over the years including the world in my series with Tor, The Psalms of Isaak, I don’t for a minute consider myself an expert on the subject of world-building.  I’m still learning as I go, having just recently finished my fourth novel, and I’m already seeing what I’d like to do differently the next time I tackle a multi-volume series.  Still, it’s a topic I have some experience with.
When I think about the world my stories take place in – whether it’s truly a world or a universe or just a room in a house – I think about it only in terms of doing what is necessary to suspend the disbelief and engage the imagination of my reader.  The setting I place my story in is as critical to that story’s success as the characters I place in that setting and the problems that they face.

The Psalms of Isaak was my first foray into creating a big world and my approach to it was actually rather sparse.  I didn’t start out with copious notes or a map or any of that.  I started out with telling the story and allowed the world to fill itself in as I wrote.  I don’t think I even had a map until I’d finished Lamentation. Most of the world lives in my head and in the pages of the books I’ve written.  Other than some map sketches, I don’t think there are any notes around about the Named Lands.  But I do have some other things.  Other stories from earlier in the history of that world – things referred to as myth or history in the series and now being expounded upon – that reveal more of the earlier times that produced the present.  But I also have bits of verse and snippets from imagined books.  And, throughout the series, references to events, artists, actors, leaders, beliefs, quotes, descriptions of meals all to make that world a place readers can imagine.

I try to think of the things that make our world feel plausible, real, believable and then layer them into my narrative about this other world.  But again, I try to keep it light so that my reader is using their own imagination to fill in the gaps.  I like to get them to do the heavy lifting.

The other thing I do in regards to my world-building is actually rooted in my characters.  I tend to be quite brutal about my third person limited POV and that also translates into how my characters interact with their world.  If they are in a familiar place they are not going to spend pages and pages on the texture of a leaf or how the banking system works.  They will have enough information in their head about those things to move through them but not enough to bog down the story into an info-dump about things that they would never pause to think about in the midst of their present activities.

POV can be a great tool – perhaps the greatest tool – for showing readers your world.  But not all at once in paragraph after paragraph of detail.  Instead, little bits of world revealed here and there as the characters move through it.  And a world is more than what a character sees – it is what they hear, smell, taste, touch – which gives a writer tons to work with.  And by layering in those details, spread out across an entire book, you build a sense of your character’s connection with their world that the reader then experiences vicariously.

So, distilled down to a few bullet points, here are my suggestions for world-building based on my own process (so your mileage may vary):

• Less is more and patience is a virtue:  Layer your world into the book throughout the book.  Use small, minor details – like bits of history, reference to artists or other historical characters, important places -- so that by the end of the book, the reader feels like they visited a real place.
• Engage your reader’s imagination for the heavy lifting:  Give enough to get them seeing what you see and then trust them to see it.  Resist the urge to overstate the world.
• Stay faithfully in your character’s POV and show us what they see through all of our senses:  Again, less is more but when you’re layering it in from multiple sources, lightly, by the end of the book, the reader feels like they’ve experienced that character’s life, including the world they live in.

Again, big thanks to Matt for including me on his guest list.  You’re all welcome to follow my regular Saturday blog at Genreality.net, chase me down on Facebook, or find out more about me at www.kenscholes.com.

Spec Fic Writers 101: Research with Teresa Frohock

When I first started this project, I reached out to all of the authors I have interviewed since the blog started and asked them if they would like to contribute. But with that number being fairly low in comparison to the number of topics I'd hoped to cover, I also asked that they invite any other industry professionals that they thought might like to contribute. Stina Leicht was kind enough to connect me with not one but two other authors who had already made my 'to read' list. Teresa Frohock was one of those. With NaNoWriMo and various other projects and obligations kicking my butt at the moment it make take a while for me to get to Miserere: An Autumn Tale, but based on the sample chapters available on Night Shade's website and what an absolute pleasure Teresa was to work with on this project, I will definitely find the time sooner than later.

About the Author: Teresa Frohock is the author of Miserere: An Autumn Tale and is currently concluding work on a second novel, tentatively entitled THE GARDEN, which is unrelated to the Katharoi series. Teresa was raised in North Carolina, lived in Virginia and South Carolina before returning to the Piedmont, where she currently resides with her husband and daughter. Teresa has long been accused of telling stories, which is a southern colloquialism for lying.



With our author introduced and her bona fides established, lets see what Teresa has to say about the most seemingly mundane and often foolishly avoided  aspect of writing in speculative fiction; research.


A quick disclaimer: I know this is intended to be a 101 how-to; however, I’m going to assume you already know that you need to research things like how many miles a person can walk in a day or how fast a horse can run, etc. I’m not going to insult your intelligence (or mine) like that. Instead, I want to focus on research in a slightly different vein.

Story, characterization, and a strong plot are the true backbone of your work, a series of bold lines, if you will. Solid research gives your fiction a deeper pigmentation and enables you to show character development in order to intensify the realism of your fiction. The trick is not to bombard your reader with useless information.

If you can develop the knack for weaving your research into the story seamlessly, then a well-researched novel is going to give you an edge that others lack. So, how do you do that? Consider this exchange from Patrick Rothfuss’ The Name of the Wind:

“I don’t want iron,” the innkeeper said. “A drab has too much carbon in it. It’s almost steel.”

“He’s right,” the smith’s prentice said. “Except it’s not carbon. You use coke to make steel.

Coke and lime.”

The innkeeper nodded deferentially to the boy. “You’d know best, young master. It’s your business after all.

This passage clicked with me because in my current novel, my protagonist Guillermo is a blacksmith. I originally intended a scene with Guillermo working in the forge, and in order to understand the process of making steel, I did quite a bit of research, whereupon I learned the following: steel is comprised of several alloys, carbon being the most important and coke is a fuel with a high carbon content.

Knowing these two things, I saw how Rothfuss divulged some important information about the innkeeper to any of his readers who also happened to know these facts.

First, the innkeeper is knowledgeable about process of making steel, something beyond most laymen in a medieval society. No two blacksmiths worked metal exactly alike and they guarded their processes jealously—think trade secrets and you’ve got the right idea. The smith’s apprentice, who should understand the process better than an innkeeper, knows that coke and lime make steel, but he doesn’t understand why (i.e. because coke produces carbon).

Because, like the innkeeper, I know these things, then I realize the smith’s apprentice is kind of dumb and the innkeeper is more than he seems.

Second, when the smith’s apprentice corrects the innkeeper, the innkeeper concedes the boy’s point and does not shame him by pointing out that coke has a high carbon content and is merely a fuel. This denotes graciousness on the part of the innkeeper. He doesn’t need to make the smith’s apprentice look the fool in front of the other men. The innkeeper knows he is right; however, he doesn’t need to pump his own ego at someone else’s expense.

See what Rothfuss did there?

The preceding analysis rolled through my mind in the few brief seconds that it took me to read the exchange between these two characters. For those in the know, that very tiny exchange rendered quite a bit of information about the innkeeper and the smith’s apprentice, but Rothfuss also took into account that many people wouldn’t know the carbon/coke references. For those people, the exchange was so brief as to be a quick side-trip in a very serious discussion.

And that is precisely how to entwine research into your story to enhance characterization and deliver important information to your reader without pages of useless facts. Rothfuss uses his research to enrich his story, not overwhelm it.

So then the question becomes: How much information is too much information?
Here’s the deal: you’re telling a story, not writing a treatise. There is a big difference between these two things, and in fiction, it is necessary to relay a fact as expeditiously as possible.

The issue is to weave the facts into the story without breaking the rhythm of the prose. For me, this takes practice and numerous edits, but once I hit that right mix of prose and fact, the story simply sings. Your number one rule should be that any research that you relay to the reader should be tied directly into the immediate events in the story.

Research into Iberian military practices gave me the information I needed to construct the break between Tomás and Guillermo in THE GARDEN. By knowing that a strict table of fines and punishments were set out for soldiers’ infractions during a war, I could easily weave the fine of four hundred maravedís for killing a señor during a conflict into the discussion between Tomás and Guillermo.
My example:

“You’ve dishonored yourself.” Tomás’ whisper was a hiss. “And me.” The rain did not cause the water in the older man’s eyes.

Guillermo didn’t drop his gaze. “Vicente gave the insult.” Why, for once, couldn’t Tomás take his side?

“He was your superior! You think you are better than him? As good as him?” Tomás’ gauntleted fist struck Guillermo’s chest, just over his heart. The steel ripped his gambeson and tore into his flesh. “Why can’t you accept your place in this world?”

“Tomás—”

“Shut up. He’s dead, Guillermo. It is four hundred maravedís for killing a señor during a conflict! Do you have that money?”

“You know I don’t.” Neither of them had to articulate what would happen if the fine wasn’t met. Guillermo remembered the caballero’s shrieks as the lash had shorn his back into shreds.

"I can—”

“No!” Tomás’ eyes blazed. “You will let me handle this. I will talk to Don Flores. We can offer the smithy, but you must come back and accept responsibility. You can work the debt off in Vicente’s household. It’s a matter of honor, Guillermo.”

I don’t need to go into a great deal of detail about the rank of a royal señor or what is considered honorable conduct. Tomás lays it all out brilliantly for me, and Guillermo’s refusal to take responsibility for his actions gives me the impetus I need for Tomás to walk away from him. This exchange also enables me to show the reader that Guillermo has something of a superiority complex and I get to highlight the generational gap between Tomás, an older man who is a staunch royalist and good soldier, and Guillermo, someone who is looking out for number one.

I don’t have to lay out the entire table of military codes for the reader, or give the exchange rate on the maravedís. The reader can infer that four hundred maravedís is a lot of money, because Tomás is willing to put up his smithy in place of the money. The primary focus on this section is not the factual details, but the story: Guillermo has done a very bad thing, he is in way over his head, and Tomás is willing to give up his livelihood to save his life. The factual details—the murder of a royal señor, the maravedís, working the debt off in the family’s household—simply add layers and texture to the interplay between these two men.
So how do beginning writers know when you’ve got too much information? The best thing to do is write the scene or chapter with all the information embedded in the text. Sometimes I do that just to cement the details in my mind. Then wait a few days (or weeks) and go back and reread the section. If at any point, the explanations overshadow the story or the action—for example if you have three lines of dialogue followed by three paragraphs of exposition—then you’ll want to trim the exposition until you’ve whittled away the extraneous material. Once you’ve eliminated the superfluous information, start looking for places where you can work the facts into the dialogue and the action of a scene.

This is a definite case where less is always more. Two or three subtle facts—the texture of the clothing, the coinage, or even utilizing a colloquial term for a mundane object—can enhance the realism of a story. Start watching how other authors interweave their research in their stories and note when they do it well and when they don’t, then practice.

That is what all good storytelling is about—practice.

Announcement: Speculative Fiction Writer's 101

What do Ken Scholes, Myke Cole, Stina Leicht, Michael J. Sullivan, Courtney Schafer, Teresa Frohock and J.A. Pitts have in common? They are all taking part in my first series of guest posts; Speculative Fiction Writer's 101.

While debating whether of not to do NaNoWriMo this year. (I've started, but am pretty far behind.) I thought to myself, wouldn't it be cool to have a few of the authors I've interviewed spend a little time talking about the craft of writing, but not in response to an interview question. I envisioned them taking a single aspect of the process of writing a story and sharing their thoughts on it. So I drafted up a list of topics, and set out to see if I could make it happen.

It's taken a little while and I realized that I've left a few topics out.(I'm hoping I can manage to get someone to fill in a few of the more obvious blanks before the series ends) but I am finally pleased to announce that starting tomorrow, I'll be posting a guest post every Friday from one of the generous authors who've agreed to help me out with this little project.

So stay tuned, and tell your friends.

Review of the Week: Cycle of the Werewolf by Stephen King

With NaNoWriMo currently kicking my butt, I've found it hard to find the time to read let alone post a review. But since I promise one review a week, I went looking for something short to read and found something that I had been meaning to add to my collection for a while at a used book store while on a visit to Nashville. Stephen King has always been a favorite of mine, and I've read almost everything in his considerable body of work. Cycle of the Werewolf has been one of the holdouts, and I'm glad to report that despite its relatively short length, barely 100 pages, it's definitely worth the read. Adding to the presentation are the fantastic illustrations by Bernie Wrightson, best known for his work on DC Comics Swamp Thing.

Cycle of the Werewolf is the story of the small town of Tarker's Mills and the series of werewolf attacks that plague its citizens over the course of a year. King divides the larger story into twelve smaller short stories, one for each of the months of the year. It is reminiscent in structure to the much more popular The Green Mile, which was released in a similar format but with more significant content in each section of the story.

The first few chapters center on the victims, where King does an excellent job letting us slip into these characters' hearts and minds just moments before their grisly demise. These doomed townspeople are shown to be meaningful and at times you'll find yourself feeling sorry for the lives they have endured, or secretly pleased that they've gotten their just deserts.

We also learn about Tarker's Mills through the seemingly insignificant details scattered throughout the short chapters. King is a master of short stories, able to paint a vivid and meaningful scene in very little space. He wastes no words, often making phrases and descriptions pull double and triple duty addressing character, tone, and theme at the same time.

The werewolf meets his nemesis on July 4th in the form of a paraplegic boy, Marty Coslaw. Marty narrowly escapes being the monster's latest victim and is the first to confirm the rumors that a monster is terrorizing the town, rather than some deranged drifter or local psychopath. Not that anyone takes his account seriously, and he is left to fend for himself. When he discovers the creature is a well respected member of the community a few months later, he concocts a plan to rid Tarker's Mills of the monster for good.

Cycle of the Werewolf is not a complex story, the plot is basic and has very little of the twists and turns of King's longer works. But King's mastery of character and tone make it a work worth reading to anyone who enjoys a well crafted short story. Each 'month' chronicled in the larger arc has something to recommend it, and the way King builds tension, pathos, and setting layer by layer as we move closer to the inevitable confrontation between Coslow and the werewolf is a masterclass on how to do a lot with a little. The price is high, given the amount of actual content, but it is well worth picking up at a used bookstore. King has been awarded the prestigious Medal of Distinguished Contribution to American Letters and while Cycle of the Werewolf is not his most prestigious or familiar work, even in this more obscure and admittedly thin volume you can catch a glimpse at what makes him one of the most popular and celebrated authors in recent history.