Confession - I picked up The Armored Saint not from any recommendation or reviews I'd read. I had very little idea what I was getting into when buying the book (like many, I thought that the armor on the cover was way too big for that woman). I mostly bought it because I find the Twitter romance between Myke Cole and Sam Sykes so adorable, and as I'd already read Sykes, I felt I owed it to Cole to give his work a look. Well, color me surprised because I loved this book (in fact more than I liked Seven Blades in Black, which I also did like). The Armored Saint is not typical fantasy (whatever that means these days). It's gritty, with an edge of realism that even magical trappings can't dull. It tells the story of a young woman in an oppressive land who is faced time and again with situations that she is in no way equipped to deal with, and yet somehow she always survives and comes away stronger. This is a book packed with real emotional moments that not only surprise a reader, but stick with them. So yes, I am thankful for Sam and Myke's rivalry (brovalry?) because it has now allowed me the opportunity to begin two promising fantasy series that I will continue to read long after the two of them have broken up.

Strengths -

Heloise. Heloise is the book's strength. I could stop there, but I won't. The absolute tidal wave of strong female characters in the past decade's fantasy has been a real thrill for me. Strong women are my ideal protagonist, and whatever that says about me is irrelevant because Heloise is a great character by any definition. Her growth arc is remarkable in large part due to how wild it gets at times. She begins the novel fairly tame, but from the first chapter we can see a spark in her that we know at some point will fully ignite. Cole does a remarkable job of stoking that spark, little by little with events through the story, several of which are large and momentous, and by the end Heloise is hardly even Heloise anymore - or perhaps she's the Heloise she was meant to be.

Cole's character work is well done elsewhere, but it's clear that our eyes are meant to stay with Heloise. Most of the other characters really only exist in relation to the protagonist, which I might find issue with if it didn't make so much sense in context. Cole wraps this story around his central character in a way that defies anyone else from intruding. That said, we do feel those other characters in much the same way that we might feel the people in our lives - we know that we are living our own stories, but it does not make us the most important person in that story. Heloise's father, Samson, for instance, is a nuanced veteran making the best of a life that is beset with obstacles. Heloise's love interest, a blacksmith's daughter named Basina, has moments seen through Heloise's eyes that could be seen from a dozen different angles but we feel them as Heloise would, and it makes them powerful.

Heloise's world is one inspired by the witch hunts of most of human history. The ruling power fears a return of devils from the underworld, devils brought about through the use of magic. Inquisition-like factions terrorize the rural land where Heloise and her family live and toil. They are the equivalent of fantasy peasants, in that they have no power and are made to believe in the existence of devils and demonspawn with very little evidence. I fully expected this book to be a cautionary tale against religion, but without spoiling anything, Cole turned my expectations completely around, and by the end of the book I was dumbfounded and confused, but in a good way. I want to read more.

Weaknesses -

I will not give a completely free pass to my confusion at the end because the ambiguity that Cole leaves us with is frustrating. Ideally, I would have guesses about where the next novel is heading (I know it's headed for war, but that's about it). It's hard to criticize the book in this way because I think there is value in the way it ends, but I might have wished for something slightly different.

A valid criticism I have is one of scale. This only comes into play during the last quarter or so of the book, but I felt that Cole had a problem of describing the size of things. That might seem petty, but bear with me because my criticism makes sense in terms of reading flow. Towards the beginning of the novel, as a spoiler free for instance, Heloise runs into a ranger named Clodio, "Heloise ran for her house, so intent on beating the failing light that she blundered into a pair of legs as solid and hard as oak trunks." This broke the narrative for me because I immediately began sizing up characters. To run into someone's legs, Heloise would either have to be the size of my toddler, or Clodio would have to be the size of Yao Ming. There are similar instances in the novels big climactic scene. Heloise gets a suit of armor and has to fight, but the thing she fights against is either the same size as she is or as big as a house and I had no idea which was true. This might seem like a silly thing to criticize in a book, but it does break a reader's immersion if they have to start doing math mid-sentence.

If You Liked -

It's tricky for me to compare this book to others in the fantasy genre because I think it's unique. There are obvious echoes of The Crucible in The Armored Saint, but I could also make far-fetched allusions to action films like Pacific Rim or Iron Man. In tone, I think the book I can most relate this to is Graham Austin-King's Faithless, both for its quandaries on religion but also for the incredibly personal journeys that its characters make.

Parting Thoughts -

I loved The Armored Saint. It really affected me in a surprising way, and it did so in a mere 200 pages. There is one heart-wrenching scene in particular that is really sticking with me and I get a little teary just thinking about it. Cole has a real handle on how to write emotion, and how to write about the bonds between people, and I think there are writers that could learn a lot from that expertise. I have already picked up a copy of The Queen of Crows with literally no idea where this series is going, and I like that. I suspect to be devastated again and again.

Blood of Heirs is an illustration as to why self-publishing is so important. This is a book that based on its description alone probably would not reach out and grab a reader’s attention. Rising above the pack in fantasy these days almost takes an SPFBO-like contest to realize. Blood of Heirs deserves to rise because it is incredibly well-written, engaging, and manages to bring new elements to fantasy that I’ve not seen much of in my time reading about magical worlds.
Strengths

Blood of Heirs tells the parallel stories of Lidan and Ranoth, two teenagers from different nations whose experiences contrast immensely. Lidan’s home is tribal, almost prehistoric in its use of stone tools and hunter/gatherer methods of food production. Ran’s nation is medieval in tone, with castles and steel weapons, Empire’s invading and the like. The closest approximation of this dynamic I can think of is the Aiel in The Wheel of Time compared to the rest of that world. It is not something often seen in fantasy, in my experience, and it is well done in Blood of Heirs.

I like this notion of parallel stories, and it’s something that seems to be happening more of late in the genre. Lidan’s story is particularly powerful largely due to the dynamics of her family. Wanstall-Burke has written very human characters, flawed to an extreme, parents that have a fierce type of love for their children but are also quite abusive in different ways. Ran’s dynamic is similar, though his abuse comes from a father where Lidan’s is mainly from her mother. This further enhances the dichotomy of these two characters journeying on separate tracks. We can begin to form connections between two people who have never met largely due to their experiences, and this is deft storytelling.

Weaknesses

While it is a strength, that dual narrative also comes off as a problem at points. This is wrapped up in several criticisms of Blood of Heirs, so let me start with the structure as a whole. My biggest issue with Blood of Heirs, and it might be one unique to me, is that it does not tell a contained story. For me, series need to be a collection of books with an overarching narrative while also each telling their own beginning-middle-and-end stories. Blood of Heirs does not do this, and it makes the dual journey of its protagonists feel almost meaningless. This is obviously a book designed to be part of a series, and maybe if it were somewhere in the middle of that series I could forgive the lack of any conclusion or even real ending, but it is the first book. I think it needs something to make it feel complete. I’ve said this before in reviews, but books are not television shows. They should not end as though they were in the middle of the story arc. Other readers may feel differently about this, particularly those that tend to read through an entire series without breaking for a different book.

My other issue with the book is the age of its characters. We could call this the Game of Thrones problem. Ran is 15 in the book, and Lidon is 13. I have no problem reading a book about children, even in a dark world such as that depicted in Blood of Heirs. However, I need a reason for them to be portrayed this young. Game of Thrones: HBO had to age its characters because the notion of children getting married and going through such darkness would not have played on screen. I think the same works for the page for the most part. Lidan does things that I don’t even think a 13 year old girl or boy could do - like killing a full-grown warrior or crushing the skull of a slavering beast just by stamping down on it with a boot. These are things that might be difficult for a full grown man to do, let alone a 13-year old child. This is a tricky criticism because I realize that there is always going to be a main character exceptionalism at work in fantasy novels, but there is a point where suspension of disbelief falls through. I don’t think there is a good reason for these two characters to be so young.

If You Liked

From a narrative perspective, I think that Blood of Heirs most reminds me of two books - Kings of Paradise and We Ride the Storm (both incidentally SPFBO contestants last year). These books all have a similar track where they follow multiple protagonists down different paths, with the assumption that these characters will all converge at some point. I like this structure, and I think it works well for the most part in these stories. There are also certainly echoes of The Wheel of Time and even James Islington’s Licanius series - this is largely illustrated in the journeys of these young people into worlds that they never imagined (Ran in particular due to his magical nature).


I also found myself thinking of several video games while reading through Blood of Heirs. Lidan’s tribe and environment reminded me of Horizon: Zero Dawn, a game about a young woman trying to prove herself to a society that doesn’t see her worth. It also gave me some big Bloodborne vibes in its use of malformed humans - people crafted into monsters through magic’s dark side.

Parting Thoughts

This is not my favorite book in this year’s contest, but I liked it immensely. I can see it winning, and I have every intention of reading more of Alicia Wanstall-Burke’s Coraidic Sagas. In technical ways, this book is perfect. I can think of very few books, even in traditional publishing, where I didn’t find some error at some point. Blood of Heirs had none. I read this book quickly, which is not something I do with books too often in these quarantine days (having a plethora of time to savor my entertainment). I think Wanstall-Burke could be a force in fantasy in the years to come if she continues to write this well.

Originally reviewed for the SPFBO over at http://fantasybookcritic.blogspot.com.

Defining fantasy, as a genre of literature, is one of the trickiest things in this industry. There are so many sub-genres now, as well as decriers of genre who insist that everything should simply be called literature, that to enter a contest like the SFBPO is to hope that whoever reads your work will see it as you see it. Dom Watson claims that THE BOY WHO WALKED TOO FAR is a fantasy novel, an implicit fact in his entering this contest, but there might be some who would disagree. This novel is set millions of years into the future, the year 11,234,097 to be precise, and imagines a world in which humans have survived until the end of time.

It is a book about dreams, and a “magic” system called Dreamurlurgy that is mastered by only a select handful of beings. There are different species of humans in this book and ancient, demonic gods - possibly even God him- or herself. There are DNA-engineered elephants in Watson’s vision, shrunk to trot around at peoples’ feet like dogs. This is a complicated novel that likely defies genre, and while some might not see it as the cut-and-dried sword-and-sorcery fantasy that we are used to when we browse our local library shelves, in some ways I believe that Dom Watson’s work embodies the spirit of fantasy as much if not more than most of what we know. This is a work of imagination, unlimited by time and space, and for that I think it is not only a worthy entry into this contest, but possibly one of the best.

Xindii Heironymous is a Mapper - one of the best Mappers living or dead. He is able to infiltrate dreams, control them, and even trap people into their own Reveries - states of perpetual dream that they are unable to escape from unless the Mapper wills it. Xindii’s home is Testament, the last bastion at the edge of civilization. Time is ending, and Testament stands as the spot where living creatures will make their stand. But it is a city, and cities must function as they do, and so in Testament, Xindii serves not only as a professor in the most prestigious university in town, but as an investigator into potential dream-related crimes. When Godrich Felstrom is devoured by a supernatural horror in the middle of a bar, Xindii, along with his lifelong friend and half-ape hyper-genius Solomon Doomfinger, is called upon by the Auditors, a group of mathematical rulers who seek to record every living thing’s number into their grand algorhythm that allows them to predict the future, to figure out how and why Godrich was killed.

If that paragraph feels like a very large and confusing info dump, welcome to THE BOY WHO WALKED TOO FAR. This book can be incredibly confusing, particularly at the onset. Watson is not shy about throwing his readers terms that he never explains, or only subtly explains via context clues and careful reading. One of the book’s many flaws, in fact, is this inability to convey what the hell is actually going on. This can be a strength, however, in the right hands, and Dom Watson very nearly succeeds in wielding those hands.

What begins as a seemingly standard Doyle-esque murder mystery, albeit set far into the future, quickly evolves into the kind of adventure that would make a Doctor Who episode look boring. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Xindii in the same sentence as a Doctor or a Sherlock Holmes or even a Gregory House because he is of this same ilk. His addiction to a violent and horrible drug, along with a dark and tortured past, are offset by a personality infectious in its zest for life and the ability to fling himself headlong into adventure. Xindii’s charm is balanced by Solomon Doomfinger’s austerity and poise, and while some might accuse Watson of taking too much formula from Doyle and Steven Moffat, these types of pairings work and to great effect in this author’s hands.


Xindii and Doomfinger are but two in a wide cast of characters. They are joined by Brick, an inspector who brings the hard-boiled trope to life and whose skin is made of literal stone. Bliss, a seemingly innocuous woman who is actually the very first of her kind to exist, and a cast of villains that range from the blackest evil to the ones we feel can be saved if we just love them enough. Watson plays with morality in this novel like a philosopher who has studied it for decades, and no one comes in or out with a clean slate.

The Boy Who Walked Too Far takes place almost entirely in the city of Testament - the last stand of humanity. It is here that all the races, human and sub-human alike have to attempt a life against the backdrop of civilization’s end. In humorous fashion, Watson is perpetually detailing aspects of this town that are both laughable and unbelievable. Starbucks is still around, for instance, and LED lights are still somehow in fashion. God, the ultimate creator of reality, has his own district and house that would make Doctor Strange jealous. But thankfully, Watson’s humor is ingrained in the very nature of his writing, and he manages to make this novel both deadly serious and out-loud funny at the same time. Few novels can even do one of these properly, but Watson weaves them in the most human and authentic way.

The Boy Who Walked Too Far’s plot does follow the murder-mystery trope in its initial stages, but it does not take long to blossom into a full-fledged world-ending saga. Watson does a beautiful job weaving Xindii’s past into the current narrative. He does so purely in italics, which I found jarring and unnecessary, but as with many aspects, this book needs an editor’s eyes to correct such potential mistakes. Without getting into the spoiler-weeds too far, there is one aspect of The Boy’s plot that I feel needs to be praised above others. Well into the novel we are introduced to the idea that stories burrow into the mind and stay there. A tale we heard as a child never leaves and only needs the right cue to call it forth. This is a lovely idea and one we are all probably familiar with. Dom Watson ruins this. He creates of storytelling a literal monster, and it is a brilliant accomplishment that I have never seen in any other narrative medium. Watson makes a story an evil thing, and despite my overwhelming love of story, I’m not even mad about it. In a book full of the kind of creativity all authors should aspire to, it is this one portion in particular that I will never forget

It is frustrating that The Boy Who Walked Too Far is so riddled with errors. Some of these are commonplace mistakes, a plethora of sentence fragments or a name spelled differently in multiple places. Some are more egregious, like an entire scene replicated twice that spans several pages - a situation particularly frustrating in a novel about dreams and experimentation where one might not realize that they are reading a mistake until they have pored over it several times.

CONCLUSION: The truth is, I’m not sure that this novel can win SFBPO with the sheer amount of editing that it needs, and this is a tragedy to me because I truly love this book. Whether or not Dom Watson makes it past the first round or into the finals is irrelevant to me (though certainly not to him!) because he has found himself at least one reader who will evangelize his flawed masterpiece to anyone who will listen. The Boy Who Walked Too Far is far and away my number one choice for advancement into the SFBPO semi-finals.