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davramlocke's Reviews (777)
The Absolute Sandman, Volume Two
Malcolm Jones III, Vince Locke, John Watkiss, Steve Oliff, Bryan Talbot, John Bolton, Duncan Eagleson, Mike Dringenberg, Daniel Vozzo, Kelley Jones, Dick Giordano, Stan Woch, P. Craig Russell, Neil Gaiman, George Pratt, Shawn McManus, Todd Klein, Dave McKean, Colleen Doran, Matt Wagner
The Thousand Names is something unique in the fantasy genre (at least in this reader’s experience). There is a common piece of advice about writing fantasy that goes something like – look at current the niches within the genre and then see how you can create your own. There are fantasy mysteries and thrillers, mash-ups of fantasy and sci-fi, and even fantasy novels that are based around things like “the economy” or “being polite.” The advice is good, and Wexler uses it by creating a fantasy world that so closely mirrors our own that for much of the novel I questioned whether it was even fantasy. Had he not included an ending chock-full of magical derring-do, I might have accused him of writing a historical novel about British colonialism that simply changed the names of countries. He manages to avoid this by showing us some mysterious business in the prologue, hinting at it throughout the book, and then delivering with an ending well-worth the wait.
Wexler’s niche is colonial military story meets magical McGuffin, also known as flintlock fantasy because it features muskets and old-timey rifles alongside spell-slinging and otherworldly creatures. Wexler uses the former exhaustively and the latter hardly at all, but thankfully each seems as important to his world as the other. Vordan is a British-equivalent nation located across the sea in a country we never see. The Desoltai and Khandarai represent desert dwelling people and likely have equivalents to civilizations in 19th century Afghanistan and the upper African countries. The Vordanai have invaded the Khandarai lands for reasons of greed and empirical ambition, and the story of The Thousand Names revolves around a company of Colonials who are forced to fight wars they aren’t particularly interested in for reasons that they don’t fully understand.
But, orders are orders.
Marcus is the head of the company, second in command to the newly appointed Colonel Janus bet Valnich. Janus shows up after the Colonials have been pushed out of a major metropolis by a mob of holy-inspired natives. The former colonel having been killed, it is Janus’ responsibility to take back the city for King and country. We see these events transpire through both Marcus’ eyes, and from Winter Ihernglass’ point of view. Winter is the real star of The Thousand Names . Orphaned at a young age, Winter is placed into a terrible home for young women aptly called The Prison. She escapes and passes herself off as a man to join the Colonial Army. Winter then unwittingly receives promotion after promotion, due to equal measures luck and competence, and finds herself in charge of her very own cohort.
In the background of all this, we have the mysterious Thousand Names, an object of power that serves as the real driving force to all the actions of the novel. The Khandarai seek to keep it out of the hands of the Vordanai, and Janus, head of the Vordanai Colonials, seeks to keep the Names out of the hands of a mysterious Vordanai bad guy known as Count Orlanko, the Last Duke. The men under Janus’ command have no idea that any of this is going on. They fight, they die, and the life they know is one of heat and fear.
I did not expect to like The Thousand Names as much as I did. I almost invariably avoid books with guns – even the flintlock kind. I don’t like guns in a philosophical or literary sense. They are lazy. Wexler uses his to great effect, and though his magic is sparse, he manages to set artillery against sorcery in a way that feels balanced. The accuracy in Wexler’s writing also helps his gun-play along. I am no historian when it comes to musketry, but I never felt anything misplaced or out of line in his descriptive work. Django’s ability to write an action scene is almost second to none. I can’t remember the last time I felt my own pulse quicken while reading a battle, and it happened multiple times throughout The Thousand Names . Despite often abhorring the violence in fantasy reads, I found myself looking forward to each of the battles in this book.
In regards to characterization, I respect the hell out of a male author willing to not only write from a female’s perspective, but to dress her in men’s clothing and make the character completely convincing and sympathetic. And Wexler does it with multiple characters. The cheek on the man! Winter is one of the best-written characters I’ve come across in fantasy in a long time. She is annoyingly self-deprecating at times, but that simply makes her more human to me, and her bravery is the kind that feels authentic because it is never absent the teeth-chattering fear that should exist whenever someone is looking down the barrel of a gun. She is a brilliant blend of competence and humility, and while Marcus is a good character as well, he pales in comparison. He is simply too familiar to stand out amidst the diverse cast present in The Thousand Names .
I did have a few issues with The Thousand Names . There were a surprising amount of grammatical errors in my copy. I also think Wexler needed to convince us just why the common colonial soldier would concede to any of the fighting that occurs. “For King and Country” is not good enough unless one really establishes how much these soldiers love their home. I am a jaded American, and so the idea of loving one’s country is probably much more foreign to me than it would be to others. I could see absolutely no reason why any character in this book, aside from Janus, would venture out into a desert and fight an often hopeless war simply at his commander’s order. It felt ludicrous at times. Then again, so does modern warfare. Perhaps it is I who am at fault for not understanding patriotism.
My problems are niggling, however, compared to the amount of enjoyment I received while reading Django Wexler’s Shadow Campaigns opener. He manages to create a believable and entertaining story despite inclusion of many common pitfalls within fantasy: desert settings are almost always boring, guns never feel quite right in a world of swords and sorcery, and cross-dressing female characters simply aren’t written about in the land of Tolkien’s predecessors. Wexler nails all three. I’d give him a twenty one gun salute if I didn’t live in a quiet urban neighborhood. And I owned any guns.
Wexler’s niche is colonial military story meets magical McGuffin, also known as flintlock fantasy because it features muskets and old-timey rifles alongside spell-slinging and otherworldly creatures. Wexler uses the former exhaustively and the latter hardly at all, but thankfully each seems as important to his world as the other. Vordan is a British-equivalent nation located across the sea in a country we never see. The Desoltai and Khandarai represent desert dwelling people and likely have equivalents to civilizations in 19th century Afghanistan and the upper African countries. The Vordanai have invaded the Khandarai lands for reasons of greed and empirical ambition, and the story of The Thousand Names revolves around a company of Colonials who are forced to fight wars they aren’t particularly interested in for reasons that they don’t fully understand.
But, orders are orders.
Marcus is the head of the company, second in command to the newly appointed Colonel Janus bet Valnich. Janus shows up after the Colonials have been pushed out of a major metropolis by a mob of holy-inspired natives. The former colonel having been killed, it is Janus’ responsibility to take back the city for King and country. We see these events transpire through both Marcus’ eyes, and from Winter Ihernglass’ point of view. Winter is the real star of The Thousand Names . Orphaned at a young age, Winter is placed into a terrible home for young women aptly called The Prison. She escapes and passes herself off as a man to join the Colonial Army. Winter then unwittingly receives promotion after promotion, due to equal measures luck and competence, and finds herself in charge of her very own cohort.
In the background of all this, we have the mysterious Thousand Names, an object of power that serves as the real driving force to all the actions of the novel. The Khandarai seek to keep it out of the hands of the Vordanai, and Janus, head of the Vordanai Colonials, seeks to keep the Names out of the hands of a mysterious Vordanai bad guy known as Count Orlanko, the Last Duke. The men under Janus’ command have no idea that any of this is going on. They fight, they die, and the life they know is one of heat and fear.
I did not expect to like The Thousand Names as much as I did. I almost invariably avoid books with guns – even the flintlock kind. I don’t like guns in a philosophical or literary sense. They are lazy. Wexler uses his to great effect, and though his magic is sparse, he manages to set artillery against sorcery in a way that feels balanced. The accuracy in Wexler’s writing also helps his gun-play along. I am no historian when it comes to musketry, but I never felt anything misplaced or out of line in his descriptive work. Django’s ability to write an action scene is almost second to none. I can’t remember the last time I felt my own pulse quicken while reading a battle, and it happened multiple times throughout The Thousand Names . Despite often abhorring the violence in fantasy reads, I found myself looking forward to each of the battles in this book.
In regards to characterization, I respect the hell out of a male author willing to not only write from a female’s perspective, but to dress her in men’s clothing and make the character completely convincing and sympathetic. And Wexler does it with multiple characters. The cheek on the man! Winter is one of the best-written characters I’ve come across in fantasy in a long time. She is annoyingly self-deprecating at times, but that simply makes her more human to me, and her bravery is the kind that feels authentic because it is never absent the teeth-chattering fear that should exist whenever someone is looking down the barrel of a gun. She is a brilliant blend of competence and humility, and while Marcus is a good character as well, he pales in comparison. He is simply too familiar to stand out amidst the diverse cast present in The Thousand Names .
I did have a few issues with The Thousand Names . There were a surprising amount of grammatical errors in my copy. I also think Wexler needed to convince us just why the common colonial soldier would concede to any of the fighting that occurs. “For King and Country” is not good enough unless one really establishes how much these soldiers love their home. I am a jaded American, and so the idea of loving one’s country is probably much more foreign to me than it would be to others. I could see absolutely no reason why any character in this book, aside from Janus, would venture out into a desert and fight an often hopeless war simply at his commander’s order. It felt ludicrous at times. Then again, so does modern warfare. Perhaps it is I who am at fault for not understanding patriotism.
My problems are niggling, however, compared to the amount of enjoyment I received while reading Django Wexler’s Shadow Campaigns opener. He manages to create a believable and entertaining story despite inclusion of many common pitfalls within fantasy: desert settings are almost always boring, guns never feel quite right in a world of swords and sorcery, and cross-dressing female characters simply aren’t written about in the land of Tolkien’s predecessors. Wexler nails all three. I’d give him a twenty one gun salute if I didn’t live in a quiet urban neighborhood. And I owned any guns.
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I liked this, but I think the format does it a disservice, and that's really the only reason I didn't give it a better rating. The story starts getting warmed up, and then it's over. It's clear that Okorafor is intending to tell a longer narrative with Binti, evidenced by it being the first in a series, and splitting it up into three novellas strikes me as "cashing it in." That sounds a little harsh, and I don't actually believe that the author has cash flow in mind with the decision to split this up into three parts. That said, the narrative suffers from the division. Yes, Binti as a novella tells a complete story, but it's complete in the way that one episode of television is complete. Binti herself is a character that I came to really like, and she is wildly different from most of what exists in speculative fiction. To cut her off in mid-sentence disrespects her story in a way that makes a reader less likely to continue with book two.
I may be off with all of this, and maybe there is a new wave of serial novellas coming our way. I have no interest in such a wave because I like books with some meat on their bones. All the said, I'm going to read book two of this because the writing is damn good and I'm engaged with the world. I just wish it was all one novel of three parts.
I may be off with all of this, and maybe there is a new wave of serial novellas coming our way. I have no interest in such a wave because I like books with some meat on their bones. All the said, I'm going to read book two of this because the writing is damn good and I'm engaged with the world. I just wish it was all one novel of three parts.
I am very into this.
But only complaint is that Luke Cage is invincible.
But only complaint is that Luke Cage is invincible.
To my great shame, I have never read The Three Musketeers. I have seen and loved multiple movie versions, despite the poor quality of said adaptations (except for “The Man in the Iron Mask,” which is dope). The myth of Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and little baby brother d’Artagnan is one I hold close. I will read Dumas at some point, both for the literary acumen and for the erasure of my shame, but in the interim Sebastien de Castell’s Traitor’s Blade is not a bad substitute. Plus it has magic!
Traitor’s Blade is not a direct fantasy-translation of The Three Musketeers, but it is as close as we are likely to get. Falcio, Brasti, and Kest are Greatcoats – travelling magistrates directed by King Paelis to administer justice to even the lowliest peasant in a land where noble houses claim near universal dominion. The King and his laws are the only thing that keep this hierarchy in check. But the King is dead, murdered by those very nobles, and the Greatcoats are disbanded with unclear missions set them by the King on what to do in case of emergency. Falcio is looking for the Chariotes, gemstones that the King spread about the land and that hold immeasurable value. The King did not tell Falcio where to find these jewels, only that if he looked, he would.
Traitor’s Blade is full of such heady-sounding prophecy, and while it is usually told with a tongue-in-cheek wink, as most of the exposition is, it is still a touch frustrating that Castell tries to cram so many mysteries into his tale. The sheer amount of charm that his characters display can also be heavy on the eyes, and it is only the counter-weight of their hearts that keeps this rampant wit-flourishing from becoming a mess.
As the story emerges, we learn that Falcio is the head of the ex-communicated Greatcoats, and also its founder, or its re-founder. The Greatcoats had existed a hundred years before and been disbanded by a similar group of unlawful nobles. In this way does the history of Castell’s world repeat itself. As we follow The Three Greatcoats along, we learn that their order is one both despised and disrespected, despite their noble intentions and valorous deeds of the past. This is where the tale strikes the reader as particularly Musketeer-like. Disgraced order of justice-warriors roaming the land seek redemption. This is not singular to the Musketeers, but it strikes awfully close to leur maison.
I had a plethora of issues with Traitor’s Blade, despite largely enjoying the novel. Here’s a list:
-It tries to be too witty to the point that it feels desperate.
-The plotting is one continuous surprise reveal after another, every one feeling more contrived than the last with every character Falcio has ever met showing up and proving to be some long-lost wizard or royal.
-A few of those many revelations feel downright ludicrous even beyond the surprise secret identities.
-One or two of the villains are so mustache-twirlingly evil as to defy even suspended disbelief.
-I’m pretty sure a blind man recognizes Falcio from across the room at one point in the book, and I’m still not sure how.
-I have a pretty hard time reading any novel that keeps addressing the ‘you’ that is the reader.
-What should have been the greatest sword duel in any book ever is performed off-page! No description at all, just one character wishing another good luck, walking away, and then the winner showing up later a little bloodied (this really pissed me off).
But the truth is that despite my problems with Castell’s debut novel, many of which would not pass an editor’s scrutiny at certain publishers, this book has something that many in the fantasy genre are lacking in these troubled times. Traitor’s Blade has a heart, and it is that pulsing, emotive organ, pumping away within the flowing pages of this novel, that makes it worth reading. Brasti and Kest, and most assuredly Falcio, are fighting for something. There are shades of grey here, no doubt, but when it comes to the core of the matter, the right meets wrong edge of the paper, there are only two sides of the coin, and these Greatcoats are on the right one. I needed this kind of story in my life. I think maybe we all do. There might be better written books out there with more cohesive plots and less contrived dialogue, but I have not read much this year that had me rooting for its good guys nearly so much. Falcio and his Greatcoats are beaten bloody, but they never give in on what is right and true. These are the stories that inspire those of us reading to be better people, to protect the innocent and weak and uphold what the word noble really means.
I don’t entirely expect the follow up, Knight’s Shadow, to affect me as much (sequels rarely do), but I owe Castell another read for his ability to reach down into my depths and scratch at my emotions. This is why I read books, and sometimes it’s easy to forget that in the need to be overly critical and demand perfection.
Traitor’s Blade is not a direct fantasy-translation of The Three Musketeers, but it is as close as we are likely to get. Falcio, Brasti, and Kest are Greatcoats – travelling magistrates directed by King Paelis to administer justice to even the lowliest peasant in a land where noble houses claim near universal dominion. The King and his laws are the only thing that keep this hierarchy in check. But the King is dead, murdered by those very nobles, and the Greatcoats are disbanded with unclear missions set them by the King on what to do in case of emergency. Falcio is looking for the Chariotes, gemstones that the King spread about the land and that hold immeasurable value. The King did not tell Falcio where to find these jewels, only that if he looked, he would.
Traitor’s Blade is full of such heady-sounding prophecy, and while it is usually told with a tongue-in-cheek wink, as most of the exposition is, it is still a touch frustrating that Castell tries to cram so many mysteries into his tale. The sheer amount of charm that his characters display can also be heavy on the eyes, and it is only the counter-weight of their hearts that keeps this rampant wit-flourishing from becoming a mess.
As the story emerges, we learn that Falcio is the head of the ex-communicated Greatcoats, and also its founder, or its re-founder. The Greatcoats had existed a hundred years before and been disbanded by a similar group of unlawful nobles. In this way does the history of Castell’s world repeat itself. As we follow The Three Greatcoats along, we learn that their order is one both despised and disrespected, despite their noble intentions and valorous deeds of the past. This is where the tale strikes the reader as particularly Musketeer-like. Disgraced order of justice-warriors roaming the land seek redemption. This is not singular to the Musketeers, but it strikes awfully close to leur maison.
I had a plethora of issues with Traitor’s Blade, despite largely enjoying the novel. Here’s a list:
-It tries to be too witty to the point that it feels desperate.
-The plotting is one continuous surprise reveal after another, every one feeling more contrived than the last with every character Falcio has ever met showing up and proving to be some long-lost wizard or royal.
-A few of those many revelations feel downright ludicrous even beyond the surprise secret identities.
-One or two of the villains are so mustache-twirlingly evil as to defy even suspended disbelief.
-I’m pretty sure a blind man recognizes Falcio from across the room at one point in the book, and I’m still not sure how.
-I have a pretty hard time reading any novel that keeps addressing the ‘you’ that is the reader.
-What should have been the greatest sword duel in any book ever is performed off-page! No description at all, just one character wishing another good luck, walking away, and then the winner showing up later a little bloodied (this really pissed me off).
But the truth is that despite my problems with Castell’s debut novel, many of which would not pass an editor’s scrutiny at certain publishers, this book has something that many in the fantasy genre are lacking in these troubled times. Traitor’s Blade has a heart, and it is that pulsing, emotive organ, pumping away within the flowing pages of this novel, that makes it worth reading. Brasti and Kest, and most assuredly Falcio, are fighting for something. There are shades of grey here, no doubt, but when it comes to the core of the matter, the right meets wrong edge of the paper, there are only two sides of the coin, and these Greatcoats are on the right one. I needed this kind of story in my life. I think maybe we all do. There might be better written books out there with more cohesive plots and less contrived dialogue, but I have not read much this year that had me rooting for its good guys nearly so much. Falcio and his Greatcoats are beaten bloody, but they never give in on what is right and true. These are the stories that inspire those of us reading to be better people, to protect the innocent and weak and uphold what the word noble really means.
I don’t entirely expect the follow up, Knight’s Shadow, to affect me as much (sequels rarely do), but I owe Castell another read for his ability to reach down into my depths and scratch at my emotions. This is why I read books, and sometimes it’s easy to forget that in the need to be overly critical and demand perfection.
I do not know how anyone could hope to sum up the word "philosophy" in just over a hundred, densely-packed pages. Edward Craig certainly does not, and I think he would be the first to admit that, but he offers up an overview that justifies its existence. Unlike some texts on the subject, this short introduction is readable, even to those unfamiliar with the terms and notions present within the field. It's not perfect, and I truly believe there are less scholarly ways to pass along information to the masses without making them field dull for not understanding every word, but it could be a lot more condescending. Craig's enthusiasm for the subject is obvious, as is his desire to pass on that love to others. I'll be curious, as I make my way through these very short introductions, to see how other writers compare in their ability to succinctly encompass a field of study.
This is a collection of three poems, two shorter ones and a long, that Tolkien wrote while working on The Lord of the Rings. They are taken from old legends from the area of Brittany, and feature a fay creature known as a Corrigan who alternately steals babes from their cradle, replacing them with fay newborns, and seduces married men. The poems are a pleasure to read, and it's obvious that some of the ideas here made their way into The Lord of the Rings, albeit in much changed form.
To a linguistic Tolkien scholar, this might be worth the price tag of 24 dollars. There is much to study for those interested in the minutiae of his studies and where some of the stories of his creations came from. For the rest of us, even big time fans of Middle-Earth, it might feel a bit criminal to pay full cover price for what amounts to about 30 minutes of reading. It's a beautiful book, as are most of these releases of Tolkien's unfinished works that have been making their way to the bookshelves. However, as loathe as I am to niggle about price, it should not cost as much as it does.
To a linguistic Tolkien scholar, this might be worth the price tag of 24 dollars. There is much to study for those interested in the minutiae of his studies and where some of the stories of his creations came from. For the rest of us, even big time fans of Middle-Earth, it might feel a bit criminal to pay full cover price for what amounts to about 30 minutes of reading. It's a beautiful book, as are most of these releases of Tolkien's unfinished works that have been making their way to the bookshelves. However, as loathe as I am to niggle about price, it should not cost as much as it does.
This is a definite step beyond the first installment, even if the series still feels too serial for what a novel should be.
The title is literal as Binti heads home from the Oozma Uni, where she has spent a year studying more math and trying to figure out her ancient artifact/toy. I am too dumb to understand any of the equations or theorems present in these books, and thankfully there aren't many, but I fully believe that Okorafor could be pulling the wool over our eyes and making up stuff (this is fantasy after all). Do I think she is? No. I am guessing her maths are spot on. She uses mathematics as most authors would use magic, and maybe that is the point of my own misunderstanding. When she performs what she calls treeing, I see it as a wizard state. She is able to summon some kind of electrical current using math (at least I think that is what she is doing), but this is a society set far enough into the future that who knows what humans could really do? That she is barely human at this point in the series only adds to her mystique.
I will definitely be finishing up this series because I want to know how this all ends, and as gross as I find some of the bio/cyber organisms, I also find them completely fascinating. I just wish Binti were one, larger book because I feel that breaking it up does damage to the overall plot.
The title is literal as Binti heads home from the Oozma Uni, where she has spent a year studying more math and trying to figure out her ancient artifact/toy. I am too dumb to understand any of the equations or theorems present in these books, and thankfully there aren't many, but I fully believe that Okorafor could be pulling the wool over our eyes and making up stuff (this is fantasy after all). Do I think she is? No. I am guessing her maths are spot on. She uses mathematics as most authors would use magic, and maybe that is the point of my own misunderstanding. When she performs what she calls treeing, I see it as a wizard state. She is able to summon some kind of electrical current using math (at least I think that is what she is doing), but this is a society set far enough into the future that who knows what humans could really do? That she is barely human at this point in the series only adds to her mystique.
I will definitely be finishing up this series because I want to know how this all ends, and as gross as I find some of the bio/cyber organisms, I also find them completely fascinating. I just wish Binti were one, larger book because I feel that breaking it up does damage to the overall plot.