theirresponsiblereader's Reviews (607)

A Graveyard for Heroes

Michael Michel

4.5

adventurous challenging dark emotional tense medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Caveat Lector

I’ve yet to write a word of this post, but I’m going to tell you now that I’m going to end up spoiling some things from the first book—there’s just no way to talk about this book without it. I will try to keep them vague if I can’t avoid them, but they will be there.

But also, why are you reading this post if you haven’t read the first book? Read The Price of Power and I predict you’ll move on to the rest reflexively (as many of “the rest” are out when you finish, that is).

Still, be careful what you read from here.

What’s A Graveyard for Heroes About?

The first book was very focused—well, as much as you can be with 4 characters/storylines. You saw the impending (or not so impending) collapse of the nation/confederation in the background (to one degree or another) of three of the storylines, but the reader’s focus was rarely on that—it was these people getting to know them and their immediate circle. Through them you started to understand the world, its cultures, its history.

In the closing chapters of the book, the first visible domino of the collapse falls over.

In Graveyard, we keep our focus on these characters—but we also see the ongoing collapse, the ongoing treason (and the treason within that movement), and how it’s affecting not just the characters we got to know in The Price of Power, but also in others—faces and names new and old.

The story grows grander, our perspective enlarges—and assuming that the pre-Price status quo was as good as it could be, this civilization is in trouble from many sides.

*There are several reasons to believe the system could be better—as every system could be and every character we got to know recognized. But the stability, order, and painfully slow opportunities for reform were there.

The Missing Character?

Of the four characters/groups of characters that were the focus in the first book, one seemed to be almost missing. Not entirely, but so close that it’d be easy to miss.

Unless of course, their name/appearance has changed. I’ve spent a good amount of time thinking about this, and am pretty sure I’ve made up my mind about what I think. (at the same time, I’m ready for Michel to show me how I missed something).

Regardless, it’s fun to chew on.

Thephus

When we saw him last, his fate seemed uncertain. Frankly, I’m even less sure about what’s going on with him now. It’s as frustrating as it is satisfying to see Michel not giving us all the answers.

While I liked the guy—and felt bad for him—from the time we met him. My respect for him as a person has grown—he’s a well-conceived and complex character. Not just complex, he’s pretty confusing, too. Moreso to himself than anyone else. I wonder who will figure him out first—the reader or Thephus himself?

Just because his storyline bothers me and leaves me with more questions at the end of every one of his chapters doesn’t mean I think him any less. On the contrary, I think that sentence applies to every single chapter he’s been featured in since his introduction.

So much is going to make sense to us when we do get answers—and if all we’re doing now is piling up the questions, how much more satisfying will it be? Also, the part of this world that Thephus and those like him inhabit is more than intriguing.

So, what did I think about A Graveyard for Heroes?

This is me speculating here, as my precognition abilities are on the blink right now. But I’m guessing that you can make the case for Books 1 and 2 of Dreams of Dust and Steel serve as a massive prequel for an epic trilogy. To borrow a phrase from the back cover, “The pieces are set. The gameboard is chosen.” And now…things are going to really get going.

I can only imagine that as grim as things look here for our heroes…but also, our villains…by the end of book three, they’ll all wish that they were back in these events. But man…there’s not a lot of positive in this book—at least not plotwise.

There’s a whole lot of positive things to say about the writing, storytelling, and characters. So much so that I know I’ve left off things I’ve told myself “You gotta mention this.” For example, there’s a treat for people who miss Tyrion Lannister’s personality.

And just because I said prequel—I am not suggesting that these books are skippable. They’re not—you’d be robbing yourself of so much. There’s a character we meet in this book, for example, on the worst day of her life. She quickly became one of my favorites of the series. I reached out to Michel and was assured that we’d see her again—but based on what we saw here, there’s nothing inherent in her story that demands it. He could’ve closed the door on her and moved on—and it’d have been worth it just to see what we got here. (I’d go into this deeper in a spoiler-rich conversation if anyone is interested).

My point is, the book is full of things that like that—the overall plot and seeing what happens with the characters we already know are the big ticket items. But this world and how Michel is telling its story is so rich, so full of moments that will stay with you, that even if these first to novels are “merely” setting it up for the bigger stuff to come—you want to read them.

This is a fantasy novel, and like most of them, this features some very important fight scenes, as well as a few battle scenes. Frankly, I find the smaller combat scenes more satisfying—and I usually do, that’s probably more of a personal taste thing. The larger battle scenes were really well done, and were largely haunting. The one-on-one fights/small group vs. small group/one-on-small group fights were much more satisfying (and somewhat haunting, too). They had me in much more suspense than the others. I audibly reacted to the last one focusing on Ishoa—I think you could see that particular point in her arc coming (either in this book or not), but actually seeing it made me cheer and pump my fist.

I may have shouted at my ereader for what the last page held—especially once I realized it was the last page, and not simply the end of a chapter.

What I’m saying is that once Michel stopped setting up his dominoes and started the reactions, you’re going to care. You’re going to be reeling. You’re going to wonder—”just where is he taking this?” while not caring that much because the ride is so fun.

I don’t remember the last time I was this invested in a Fantasy series. I suggest you all hop on board.

Dark Neon & Dirt

Thomas Trang

4.5

adventurous challenging dark mysterious tense fast-paced

What’s Dark Neon & Dirt About?

I’ve tried 6 different versions of this, and have ended up saying something I regret each time. Let’s see if I can nail it this time. I’m thinking of a recipe.

Ingredients

1 child who escaped Vietnam right after the fall of Saigon, who learned to defuse bombs to serve in Iraq, and is now one of LA’s most successful thieves
1 LAPD lieutenant whose driving interest (not quite an obsession, but you never know) is finding out this thief’s identity and apprehending him. I’m not sure if he cares about the order. His other interests? Best if you don’t know
1 member of the FBI’s Art Crime Team who decided that opening a gallery in France seemed like a more lucrative way to spend her time
A generous amount of LA Noir to season

Directions

Combine the robber, cop, and seasoning, mix well.
Slowly pour in the gallerist.
Bring to rolling boil over a sweaty LA heat.
Serve hot.

Heat
If Trang isn’t one of Michael Mann’s biggest fans, he’s sure acting like it. Or at least the narrative voice of this book is. I was to wrapped up in things to count, but there were a number of direct references and allusions to Heat. Enough that there’s no way that the reader is not supposed to pay attention to as many as you can catch.

That said—despite what I expected after the first couple of references—beyond it being about a fairly successful thief being chased by a detective, and the cat-and-mouse between them and the biggest score in the thief’s career, there’s very little overlap.

I’m pretty sure if you enjoyed Heat that this is going to be right up your alley. But that’s true of people who enjoyed Winslow’s Crime 101, or any good cop-and-robbers story.

So, what did I think about Dark Neon & Dirt?
I want to say a lot about this book, but I’m afraid I’ll spill more than you want me to, prospective reader. Although…even saying that there’s something to spill is sort of accomplishing that anyway. I’m just not going to win here.

This grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. I rarely—if ever—knew just where he was taking the story or the characters. And even if I was right about something, it felt more like a lucky guess than me understanding what Trang’s plan was. That’s from the first scene to the last—and all stops in between.

It’s hard to elaborate on this, but let me make a couple of notes on character. Once you put down the novel for the last time, I expect you’ll take a couple of minutes and re-evaluate almost every choice made by the majority of the characters. You’ll also find yourself appreciating the way that every character felt like a new twist on a tried-and-true favorite type. You find yourself getting annoyed with, if not actively disliking, characters who would be the protagonists/heroes of pretty much every other crime novel you can think of. Most of the rest will generate a good deal of ambivalent feelings for you (eventually, in the moment, you’ll be pulling for their success).

Honestly, I’m still revising my thoughts on a couple of characters as I type this up.

One thing you won’t revise is how these people think and talk—especially talk. You all know how much I’m a sucker for good dialogue, and Trang did not disappoint. Especially Lt. Monroe, something about his lines endeared him to me.

I mentioned Winslow above, and this is just the kind of story he’d tell—Trang doesn’t have Winslow’s style (yet), but his voice and story-telling choices are similar. I can also see this as an outline that Elmore Leonard would work from. For a debut novel, it’s hard to ask for more than that.

Within a chaper or two, I pretty much felt like Trang came over and sat down too close to me on some bench, so I had to slide over a bit before introducing himself and telling me that I needed to make some room on my shelves between Tolkein and Tropper because he intended on filling it over the next few years.

Trang’s got the chops—I cannot wait to see what comes next. I strongly encourage crime readers (particularly those with an affinity for novels that live in the gray areas) to pick this up, while I go reorganize my shelves.

Disclaimer: I was provided a copy of this ARC by the author a day or two before I was going to order it, so it really didn’t affect my opinion of it–he just saved me a few bucks. (and I paid him back by not posting this on time, he really didn’t come out good in this deal).

Rex Stout: Killer Conversations

Rex Stout, John McAleer

5.0

funny inspiring lighthearted fast-paced

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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How Does the Publisher Describe Killer Conversations?

Rex Stout: Killer Conversations (formerly Royal Decree) is a must read for aficionados of detective fiction. Here Edgar winner John McAleer shares some of his most memorable conversations with Nero Wolfe creator Rex Stout. Featuring an updated Introduction by crime fiction icon William G. Tapply and an Afterword by Grand Master Edward D. Hoch, Killer Conversations is an essential collectors’ volume. These in-person discussions with Stout were compiled to inform and gratify, in Stout’s own words, the millions of Rex Stout fans who would be putting these questions to him as if he were alive answering his mail from Wolfe’s West 35th Street Brownstone. Hailed by CBS as the “American Conan Doyle,” in Killer Conversations Stout discusses, among other things, his writingcraft, the Wolfe mysteries, plotting methods, characterization, the modern detective story, his service aboard President Teddy Roosevelt’s yacht, and offers his appraisal of crime fiction icons such as—Agatha Christie, Georges Simenon, G. K. Chesterton, and more. Killer Conversations will keep mystery fans glued to their chair till midnight chimes the hour. And why not, isn’t that what a Stout mystery does?

(the only problem with this blurb is the bit about midnight chimes the hour…the only way most people would be reading this until midnight is if they started at 11:20p.m.)

Some of My Favorite Responses
This is a great collection of pithy takes on everything outlined above—and Stout was great at them. I have to share some to give you a little taste (and because I just had to share some). I won’t cite all the best ones here—but I’m tempted to.

McAleer: When you were writing for the pulps, between nineteen twelve and nineteen seventeen, did you see yourself as a hack writer or as an aspiring young writer on his way to the top?
Stout: I have never regarded myself as this or that. I have been too busy being myself to bother about regarding myself.

McAleer: I know a writer who, before beginning a book, separates a ream of paper into unequal piles of twenty-three, thirty-seven, forty, twenty-seven, and so forth, because he knows in advance how many pages will go into each chapter. How does that strike you?
Stout: He isn’t a writer, he’s a puzzle fiend. Revolting.

McAleer: You’ve said you’d rather have written Alice in Wonderland than any other book in English written in the last century. Why?
Stout: I could write pages about it and they would have to be well written. While giving glorious entertainment in the form of playful nonsense, it does the best job in the English language of exposing our greatest fallacy, that man is a rational animal. A couple of instances out of many: The Queen’s “Off with their heads” shows that the greatest danger of unlimited power is not that it can act by malice but that it can act on whim. The shifting of places at the Mad Hatter’s tea party shows that if all of the members of a group wish to make a change it is not true that they should change in unison in the same direction. To do this right would take hours.

McAleer: Yet you hold Hammett in high regard?
Stout: Certainly. He was better than Chandler, though to read the critics you wouldn’t think so. In fact, The Glass Key is better than anything Hemingway ever wrote. . .Hemingway never grew out of adolescence. His scope and depth stayed shallow because he had no idea what women are for.

McAleer: Inspector Cramer is called “Fergus” Cramer in Where There’s a Will. Later, in The Silent Speaker, his initials are given as “L. T. C.”. How do you explain this discrepancy?
Stout: No significance. Laziness. I didn’t bother to check whether he already had a first name. Of course all discrepancies in the Nero Wolfe stories are Archie Goodwin’s fault.

So, what did I think about Killer Conversations?
Some of the answers Stout gives are deep. Several are flip. He doesn’t always use more than one word (really, would a little elaboration of killed him?) All are just fun to read.

This is a Lay’s Potato Chip kind of read—I bet you can’t read just on Question and Answer. You have to keep going—you might be able to make yourself stop because of something, but you won’t want to. It’s just too much fun to keep going.

Also? This is clearly going to be re-readable (I almost slipped into a re-read while putting this post together).

Ultimately, the question you want to ask yourself about this book is this: Do I want to learn more about Rex Stout? If the answer is yes, you’re going to have a blast with this. If you don’t—why have you read this far? You might appreciate someone talking about obscure authors and classics of the mystery genre. But you’re probably not going to be that engaged.

Me? I loved it. The two cover life, death, love, reputation, writing, Stout’s characters, his career, a little bit about people in his life, and more. If this book was three times as long—I’d say the same thing.

Kaua'i Storm

Tori Eldridge

4.0

adventurous challenging emotional hopeful mysterious reflective tense medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Character

Strong character development: Complicated

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Kaua’i Storm About?

Makalani Pahukula, who has been serving Crater Lake in Oregon as a Park Ranger for years, comes home to Kaua‘i for the first time in even longer for the celebration of her grandmother’s eightieth birthday—which is going to be a family reunion/community gathering on a pretty grand scale.

When Makalani touches down, it’s not quite the joyous occasion she’d anticipated. Yes, her parents and grandmother are delighted to see her—as is an old friend (I’m going to forget to mention this later, but we needed more of her). But two of Makalani’s cousins are missing—one is in high school and the other is a former college football star.

Their disappearances are being written off as some foolish lark—although it gets the family squabbling—each set of parents blaming the other and lashing out. Makalani doesn’t think either explanation fits the cousins she remembers (while making allowances for people changing) and she wonders why the police haven’t been involved.* After a dead body is found in the nearby forest, Makalani starts to meddle and takes it upon herself to find her cousins—over the objections of just about everyone.

* And once the police eventually do get involved, you start to understand the families’ decision not to involve them, and they certainly make things worse.

A Question of Genre

First—I’m not sure that’s the best heading for this section, but it’s close enough. Secondly—I really don’t care about this when it comes to what I think about the book, but this kept running through the back of my mind.

This is billed as a mystery, and it kind of is one—I think more of a thriller than a mystery, but we’re getting into the weeds there. And Eldridge has a reputation as a thriller writer (thrillers that I greatly appreciate, I should add).

But her thrillers also involve a good layer of something else—descriptions of a minority culture (in the U.S.), trauma, business/family culture (in other nations), and so on. She pulls that off here, too. In more than one way.

We also get a fair amount of multi-generational family drama, a little social commentary, some local history, and more.

So much so that the thriller/mystery aspect of the book takes a back-seat to everything else for significant lengths of time. It doesn’t hurt the novel as a whole—in fact, it makes it richer. There are family members and friends that I can hand this to that I can’t hand a lot of the mysteries/thrillers that I read (and I wonder if a couple of the thriller-junkies in my life would put up with this).

Culture and Language

Speaking of that kind of thing…

I am as haole as you can get—so much so that I can’t pronounce it correctly or even consistently, despite having heard it in various formats for years. So, a lot of this book took work for me to understand—work I enjoyed and was glad to do, mind you. But there was effort.

Eldridge littered this book with ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i words and phrases and Pidgin English like crazy. All—or close enough to round up—can be understood in context with a little effort. But for those who want to be sure of their understanding, there’s a great glossary in the back—including words and phrases—both Pidgin English and ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i—as well as phrases, geographical references, historical and mythological figures. I didn’t consult it (foolishly?) until I was done—that’s just how I roll. It confirmed a lot for me and fleshed some things out, too. I do recommend consulting it in the moment.

I knew about, and chose to ignore, the Glossary. Until I finished, I didn’t realize Eldridge also gave us a handy dramatis personae, which would’ve been a great aid in keeping track of the relationships between this large cast. Do you need to read/consult it? No. But I certainly wouldn’t discourage it.

But even beyond the supplemental material, this book is about as close as you can get to a documentary on contemporary Kaua‘i as you can get while keeping this a work of fiction. There’s a lot about homesteading—and the ethnic makeups required for it (past and present), those who live off the grid in public lands, and…I’m not going to be able to provide an exhaustive list, so I’m going to just stop.

I’ll summarize by saying that this is a rich and informative look at the non-touristy part of Hawai‘i (or at least one island’s version of it). Added to the tiered cake of characters and missing-person plot, this icing is just great.

So, what did I think about Kaua’i Storm?

This is going up late—I realize that, and apologize to Eldridge and Thomas & Mercer for that—but I had a hard time resisting talking about all that this novel attempts (mostly successfully) to accomplish.

It’s a very crowded book, I have to say, Eldridge puts a lot into these 445 pages. There’s a storyline involving an overly-zealous student of culture that generally felt out of place, and maybe was. It couldn’t be told at another time, as much as I wondered if it could’ve been used in a sequel instead of this book, because it seemed of tertiary importance and interest compared to everything else going on. It was also entertaining and satisfying—so I’m glad she included it.

Still, it reads like a thriller of 250-300 pages, which is a neat trick.

I didn’t enjoy this as much as a Lily Wong book (it shouldn’t feel like one, and doesn’t), and I enjoyed it in different ways than her previous work (as I should’ve). Having established this world and the characters—it’d be very easy for Eldridge to lighten up on the background material in the future, and keep the focus on the plot and characters while exploring the world (and keeping up the commentary)—making it a leaner and more focused thriller/mystery. I hope that’s where Eldridge takes it—but I won’t complain too much if she doesn’t.

How did I make it this far without talking about Makalani? This is her book more than anything. We’ve all read/watched versions of her story—the kid who couldn’t wait to leave home who comes back discovering how much she missed it, how much she’s changed—and how everyone she left behind remembers her. This version of this template is very successful. She reconnects with her past, her heritage, her family—and she sees how who she is today comes from all of that. Plus, she’s a pretty kick-ass ranger. It’s going to be fun to watch her at work. She’s tough, resourceful, and determined—but not in your typical action-hero way, more like the kind of person you could meet in real life. Likely in the line of duty as a ranger. Her connection with the land—in Hawai‘i or Oregon—and sense of duty is going to get a lot of readers to respond positively to her.

This is a solid thriller, but it’s so much more. And it’ll definitely leave you hungry for a sequel. I strongly recommend it.

Class Clown: The Memoirs of a Professional Wiseass—How I Went 77 Years Without Growing Up

Dave Barry, Dave Barry

4.5

emotional funny informative lighthearted reflective medium-paced

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Class Clown About?

It’s really all there in the subtitle: it’s Dave Barry’s memoirs about his career as a professional wiseass—primarily through his humor column, but he’s found other outlets for it, too.

Here’s some of the jacket copy to help beef that up:

America’s most beloved wiseass finally tells his life story with all the humor you’d expect from a man who made a career out of making fun of pretty much everything.

How does the son of a Presbyterian minister wind up winning a Pulitzer Prize for writing a wildly inaccurate newspaper column read by millions of people?

In Class Clown, Dave Barry takes us on a hilarious ride, starting with a childhood largely spent throwing rocks for entertainment—there was no internet—and preparing for nuclear war by hiding under a classroom desk. After literally getting elected class clown in high school, he went to college, where, as an English major, he read snippets of great literature when he was not busy playing in a rock band (it was the sixties).

He began his journalism career at a small-town Pennsylvania newspaper where he learned the most important rule of local journalism: never confuse a goose with a duck. His journey then took a detour into the business world, where as a writing consultant he spent years trying, with limited success, to get corporate folks to, for God’s sake, get the point. Somehow from there he wound up as a humor columnist for The Miami Herald, where his boss was a wild man who encouraged him to write about anything that struck him as amusing and to never worry about alienating anyone…

Class Clown isn’t just a memoir; it’s a vibrant celebration of a life rich with humor, absurdity, joy, and sadness. Dave says the most important wisdom imparted by his Midwestern parents was never to take anything too seriously. This laughter-filled book is proof that he learned that lesson well.

His Origin Story
The first four chapters are the most autobiographical part of the book—a little less than 50% of it. Here we cover his parents, his childhood, schooling, and early career—from his first newspaper job, his detour through business education, and then finding his way back to journalism and becoming a humor columnist.

This is all the nitty-gritty stuff—what were his parents like? (nothing like you’d guess) What did his childhood entail? (bad jokes and throwing things) What did he write before making money with booger jokes? And so on.

This was the more educational—in a good way, I stress—part. He wrote about is parents, in particular, with warmth and humanity. He was open about some of their struggles, but with sensitivity. I really appreciated the way he talked about his marriages—past and present—very briefly, yet definitively. There is some humor, but it’s largely self-directed, or at the culture he and his parents were in.

This is really the kind of thing you come to a memoir for, and Barry did it well. He quotes some of his more serious (and some of his less-serious) columns here to show what he’s said about these things in the past.

Topical Memories
A little over half the book is devoted to what I’m describing as “Topical Memories”—he has a chapter on things like “My Readers,” “Politics,” and “Books, Music, and Movies.” In these, he relates a collection of stories and anecdotes from all over his career along these lines.

So we get stories about the great things his readers have sent him—and some of the less positive things they’ve said. Scandals he created—inadvertently or not. How he was involved in Obama’s first inaugural parade, or had Bruce Springsteen sing backup for him, how he accidentally offended an audience of Russians by screening one of his films. I particularly enjoyed him talking about his feud with his Neil Diamond-loving readers (I’m a pretty big Diamond fan, but thought Barry’s jokes were good and deserved, for what it’s worth)

There are several extended quotations from his columns here—and we get a lot of the stories behind the columns, too. Not the nuts-and-bolts of how he wrote them, but what led to them.

If the Origin Story chapters were educational—this was recess. Just a lot of fun and goofing off, telling wild stories and recounting past glories (and blunders). It was exactly the kind of thing that Barry readers pick up his books for.

The Appendix
I don’t frequently talk about appendices; they’re supplemental material, and I prefer to focus on the main portion of the book, but every now and then, one comes along that demands attention.

For example (as you might have guessed), this appendix. It was a hoot—its title is “A Good Name for a Rock Band.” Barry (like many of us) will frequently pick up on a phrase from something he quoted and say it would be a good name for a rock band (also known by the super-easy and memorable acronym WBAGNFARB). After discussing this practice a bit, Barry gives a non-exhaustive, but extensive list of some of those bands.

I think reading them in context is best—but you definitely can appreciate them in a different way with no context whatsoever. They are definitely more ridiculous that way.

It’s worth picking the book up from the shelf at your local bookstore/library just to read those few pages. (Of course, you’d be better served by reading the whole thing). Even people who don’t have a background with Barry will find some laughs there.

So, what did I think about Class Clown?
I’m fairly certain at this point in my life that I’m hardwired to enjoy Davy Barry’s writing, and that I don’t have the neuroplasticity to change that. No matter what apps for seniors I try. So maybe take this with a softball-sized grain of salt.

I really enjoyed this book. A lot—and on several levels.

Part of me would’ve liked a little more depth, a little more digging into details of his life, maybe his approach to writing. But it’d just feel strange knowing that much about Barry—and we all know what happens to a joke when you dissect it, knowing too much about how his sausage is made might not be that entertaining. Really, for Dave Barry—this is about as deep as we want. Every time I started to say “I wish he’d given us more about X,” I stopped myself and realized that no, this was just the right amount.

So no, it’s not as self-revealing as say, Patrick Stewart’s or Matthew Perry’s books—and that’s good.

This is a great way to get to know Barry a little better—given the nature of his work, a lot of us have had a para-social relationship with him before that was a phrase people used. It’s nice for us to deepen that relationship to a degree—before we get back to jokes about exploding cows, questionable song lyrics, or whatever.

I heartily encourage readers of Dave Barry to pick this up—even casual readers will have fun with this, you don’t have to be a die-hard like me. He’s one of a kind, and it’s great to bask in that for a little while.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Simon & Schuster via NetGalley in exchange for this post which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.

Hive

D.L. Orton

3.5

adventurous emotional mysterious tense fast-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Plot

Strong character development: No

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: No

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Hive About?

We open on a semi-functional (less so by the day) biodome some 30 years in the future (it’s vague, but safe to put it in the 2040s-2060s largely depending from when the reader picks this up)—there are two living humans, and an AI of sorts trying to keep going. There are some other biodomes out there, and hopefully, they’re doing better. The land outside the biodome is not fit to sustain human life—or much in the way of animal or vegetable life, either.

They have enough energy to use a spacetime bridge one more time as a last-ditch effort to go back and stop things from getting to this point. The target day was a fateful day for the two of them as individuals, and apparently one for the timeline as well (probably for different reasons, I’m not suggesting history pivots on them). They can send one person back with the sole idea of preventing their present.

I’m being as vague on details as the characters are here—you’ll get an idea about the particulars later.

We spend the rest of the book watching how this plays out from the point of view of some pivotal individuals (earlier versions of these characters in one way or another), with some observations from that AI about how well it’s working and the chances their mission holds of success.

A Quick Look at the Characters

Our primary characters (in the 2010s-2030s) are Matthew, Diego, and Isabel. Matthew and Diego did some work together in the past, and have some loose connections in the book’s “present”—but they’re not great pals or anything, and their stories don’t intertwine much (in Hive, anyway—I expect that to change). Matthew is a physicist of some repute and his expertise will be important.

When we meet Isabel, her divorce has just been finalized and she is excited and free from her husband (well, as free as you can be from an egomanical technocrat that you happen to work for and who owns your research). Diego is the would-be do-gooder scientist/entrepreneur who’s trying to do his part to help poorer countries with their water supply. Diego is also the one who got away, for Isabel. Through some unlikely coincidences (probably shaped by their future selves), they reconnect and try to start over/make up for lost time.

Also, they’ve received prompting from future-Isabel to stop Dave. It’s unclear what they’re supposed to stop him from doing, but they’re all in.

Dave is the kind of character that the reader is primed and ready to hate, or at least really dislike, from his first line of dialogue—and your impression of him goes downhill from there. There are a few sycophants in his company that we don’t get to know too well, but their devotion to him really solidifies your impression of them.

Meanwhile, Matthew is pretty much kidnapped by a couple of representatives of the U.S. government to work on a mysterious artifact, presumably (to the reader) something sent back to the past from the biodome. The senior member of this pair is easily as dislikable as Dave—almost irrationally so. And while he might be one of the “good guys,” or at least is working to help people, he’s definitely one of those envisioned by the coiners of the phrase, “Who needs enemies with friends like this?”

I’m focusing on these two here to be efficient—other than these two jackwagons, 99% of the rest of the characters (from very minor on up) are kind, pleasant, smart (if not brilliant), and are working to improve things. They’re the kinds of characters you want to spend time with—they’ve got good senses of humor, are optimistic and determined to keep going. Reading about them while there’s some sort of apocalypse around them is actually pleasant. Even if only you and the AI knew how bad things were going to get for them, you would like their chances and be pleased every time the AI mentioned their chances of improving their chances of success.

A Focused Armageddon

It’s hard to judge the scope of this/these calamity/calamities—our view is of Denver and the surrounding area. We get some hints that conditions are the same in other parts of the country as things get worse. But we really don’t know what things are like outside the U.S.

Given how bad it is 30+ years into the future when we first see things, it makes sense to think this happened globally. But it’s also possible that the devastation was limited to North America (or just the U.S.) and the rest of the world was able to protect itself, or weren’t exposed to the effects. During the bulk of our time with Diego and Isabel, some forms of communication work and some don’t for them, so it’s believable that they just have no clue what’s happening outside of Colorado. Communications around Matthew seem a lot more reliable, but he’s kept so much in the dark that it really doesn’t get the reader anywhere.

I’m not sure how much it matters for the story—particularly at this point. But I think it’s fun to speculate about while you’re reading and afterwards. Has the rest of the world moved on, fairly intact, waiting for things to calm down in North America so they can come over and try to rebuild? Or are they, so far removed from the three events, suffering just as much?

Crossing in Time

Feel free to skip this part and move on—I’m not sure this adds much to the overall post, but I can’t stop thinking about this.

This is a reworked version of Orton’s novel Crossing in Time. I listened to that book back in 2021 and enjoyed it—try as I might not to, I inevitably kept what was different about this version. The little voice in the back of my head just wouldn’t shut up. To make things worse—I think I have some details of Crossing in Time conflated with one or more other time travel books involving a strong love story.*

What I think she did here was lop off some later chapters, I assume to move them to Book Two. And introduce and/or beef up some of the chapters and subplots. I’m more sure about the former than the latter, if I’m right, that makes the ending more of a cliff-hanger that will springboard you into wanting Book Two in your hands straightaway.

I also think Orton removed what could be described as convolutions—making the novel more streamlined and fast-paced. Overall, I get her choices, and I do think it makes the book a stronger read.

But again, I could be wrong—but I couldn’t stop thinking about it as I read the book, or as I think about it now—so I had to get this out.

* With apologies to the author, there have been 800 or so books between now and then, details get fuzzy.

So, what did I think about Hive?

This is a fast-paced, propulsive read filled with amiable characters who aren’t afraid to joke around even when things are tense or confusing. The hook gets set pretty early, and the pages melt away as you plunge ahead to follow the events. It’s exactly the kind of popcorn read that helps you escape after a long day.

The tech is very cool—both the stuff that Isabel developed and the items that Matthew talks about and develops. Orton gives you enough to understand how it all works and to visualize it clearly without bogging down the pace with paragraphs and paragraphs of details. The plausibility of it all? Eh, it’s SF, it’s plausible enough if you come with a standard level of suspension of disbelief needed for time travel (especially, in this case, when the time travel comes with a side order of multiverse story).

Because of the pacing, Orton’s able to get away with a few things that maybe she couldn’t in a slower-moving book. I don’t actually see the grounding of the romance between Diego and Isabel—he’s carried a torch for years, she regrets making the choice years ago to walk away. But…that’s it. We don’t see many sparks, just have to take it because we’re told that. There’s no reason for the senior agent involved with Matthew to be such an ass to everyone, all the time, especially when just a sentence from him now and then would be enough to get people to work with him instead of his threats (and I don’t care how instinctive and characteristic his brusqueness is, you don’t move up in an organization simply be being mule-headed, there has to be at least an insincere level of cooperativeness expressed occasionally). All the depth of the characters that could be brought out are merely nodded to, or you have to assume them.

Actually, this all might be necessary because of her pacing. If so, I understand the choice (as much as I disagree with it).

I want to stress, however, in the moment, you don’t think about this (and if you do, you brush it off because you don’t want to step out of the movement). Everything works, everything clicks while you’re reading and speeding off to the next twist/revelation. It’s only after you get to the ending that leaves you holding onto the cliff’s edge with your fingers that this might occur to you if you stop and think about it. Mostly, you’re going to be thinking about how long it will be until you can get your hands on Book Two.

It’s easily enjoyable, engrossing, and entertaining. You should give it a try.

One Death at a Time

Abbi Waxman

5.0

funny mysterious relaxing tense medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s One Death at a Time About?

Natasha Mason is a twenty-something still trying to figure out what to do with her life—her alcoholism led to her leaving law school, and now she’s paying bills by delivering food and doing other gig economy standbys in L.A., and making sure she makes at least one meeting a day.

At one of these meetings, a vaguely familiar-looking woman shows up—and is not the friendliest of people. She seems—well, is—more concerned about getting her court-mandated signature than in anything else. Mason volunteers to be this woman’s interim sponsor. Now this older woman had been sober before, but on the night that led to the court-mandated meetings had a blood-alcohol level that stunned a rowdy twelve-step meeting into silence. She’d also come out of a blackout next to the dead body of a former lover/decades-long antagonist and what was probably the murder weapon. For a night she couldn’t remember—it’d clearly been eventful.

The next morning, Mason shows up at the gate of her obviously well-off sponsee. Thanks to some time on the internet, Mason knows her to be Julia Mann—a former box office star, now a lawyer taking on cases for as many Davids as she can in a city of Goliaths. Oh, and in between careers, she’d been in prison due to the death of her husband—the former business partner of the dead man she’s currently suspected of killing.

This meeting didn’t go the way Mason suspected—for one, Julia Mann’s housekeeper is an amazing cook, as Mason learned. Also, the two kept butting heads—Mason wanted to talk about Julia’s sobriety, but Julia was rather fixated on the murder. And yet…something clicked between the two. In between verbal jousts,* Julia ends up hiring Mason to be her personal assistant and help with the investigation. Mason justifies this to herself as a way to stay near Julia and keep her sober. The chance to eat more of Claudia’s cooking and make more money than an app can pay doesn’t hurt.**

Before you know it, these two have got themselves involved in a separate murder investigation (another David for Juila to work for), arson, tensions around Julia’s former career in the film industry, tensions around Julia’s future career in the film industry (she wants none of it, but no one seems to care), brushes with organized crime, multiple reasons for both or either of them to ditch their sobriety, and more things that I can fit into this rambling sentence.

* The back-and-forth between these two is reason enough to try this book. Waxman will supply several others, it should be noted.
** Yes, this makes two books in as many months about an LA-based delivery driver turning amateur investigator.

The Murder Mystery(ies)

Murder mysteries surrounding the film industry tend to have a few things in common—secrets, petty grievances that get nurtured into full-blown rivalries (or worse), scandals (for an industry reputed to be filled with amoral hedonists, there really are a lot of moral scandals), and organized crime.

One Death at a Time ticks all of these boxes—and a few others that I should’ve listed above, but forgot to. This may be Waxman’s first mystery, but she clearly understands the genre and knows how to construct a classic whodunit in a contemporary setting.

You get all the twists, turns, red herrings, and layers upon layers of competing motives for multiple suspects that you need—doled out in just the right pacing with dollops of shocks and action along the way. The final reveal is satisfying, and every loose plotline is tied up. It’s a textbook example of the genre—pleasing in every way.

The Humor/Tone/Relationships

This might be a clumsy way to tackle these ideas, but it’s where I am.

Yes, Waxman is known for Rom Coms—or Rom Com-adjacent—books, so we all know she’s funny. This seemed to me to be more overtly comedic. There are jokes—many of them—not just funny situations and loveable, quirky characters doing goofy things. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of those (as well as non-lovable, quirky characters).

This reads like Dave Barry’s kind of crime novel, with the restraint of a Richard Osman. The verbal jousting is great, and the physical comedy is almost as good. The situations are frequently ridiculous, but never so much so that you get taken out of the moment.

The technical term that best describes Mason is “wiseass,” and one with poor impulse control. Someone who doesn’t know how to keep her trap shut, powered by Waxman’s wit is a fun character to read. Julia’s no slouch in that department either, but she’s more mature, she knows that she should pick her targets with care—and is therefore usually more effective.

The rest of Julia’s team (I will not tell you about them, so you can meet them properly) and some of the other characters the reader encounters have drier wits, largely fitting into the typical Waxman model. Oh, except this one actress…nope. You wouldn’t believe me if I tried to describe her.

Mason’s support system consists of the meetings she attends, her sponsor, and her cat. Julia has a strong team of employees and friends (the Venn diagram there has a large area of overlap)—they’re just not that effective on the sobriety front, but they make up for that with their loyalty. Julia also has a pretty strong network of former friends, employers, and employees in and around the film industry.
These are loyal to their grudges against her and their own self-interest—however, they (or at least most of them) want her to succeed in her search for the killer, so they can move on with their lives and careers.

You combine all of this—with a (slowly) growing relationship of affection, trust, and appreciation between our protagonists—and you’ve got yourself a great basis for comedy with heart.

Sobriety

One thing that Waxman never made light of in all of this was the sobriety of the characters. Yes, Julia would mock Mason’s approach to being her sponsor, but that was about the characters’ personality differences—both of them took it seriously.

Not all of the characters appreciated the struggle and what the characters did to preserve it—but none of the comedy was about the drinking.

The opening meeting did get me to chuckle frequently, but that was character-based humor. The book never gets preachy at the reader, just to each other.

So, what did I think about One Death at a Time?

I had a blast with this—if you couldn’t tell. This is my fifth Waxman novel, so I went into it expecting that I would. I just wasn’t sure how much I’d enjoy it, because of the genre. But if I didn’t know who she was before I picked this up, I’d be scouring the library for her Abbi Waxman now.

It does—as it should—feel very different than her previous works. I’d say this is closer to last year’s Christa Comes Out of Her Shell than the rest, but even saying that, this is different. The stakes are (obviously) higher for these characters; there are potentially lethal consequences for failure. Which might explain the more heavy-handed approach to the comedy.

I think I’ve said everything I wanted to above—the mystery part is really well done; the characters are well-designed and well-excecuted, the relationships between them are strong and obvious—you like the people you’re supposed to like enough that you wish you sat around the room with them, watching them go back and forth while eating whatever wonderful treat/meal Claudia has prepared. Also, it’s funny. That’s a one-two-three combination that I’ll always enjoy and recommend.

This feels like a standalone, but it could easily spawn a sequel or more. If it does, I’ll be first in line. If it doesn’t…well, that’s okay, too. It works really well either way.

Basically, reader, if any of the above tickles your fancy—you need to add this to your TBR. I practically guarantee you’ll have a great time.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Berkley Publishing Group via NetGalley in exchange for this post, which contains my honest opinion—thanks to both for this.

Mỹ Documents

Kevin Nguyen

5.0

challenging dark emotional inspiring reflective sad medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s My Documents About?

Soon after the fall of Saigon, but not soon enough, a woman named Bà Nội manages to escape Vietnam with her four-year-old son—she’d been able to send two of her children to the U.S. earlier. Sadly, her husband was unable to leave with them. As the novel opens in the mid-2010s, we meet four of this son’s children—Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan.

These siblings and cousins are on the cusp of adulthood. Ursala is trying to make it as a journalist in NYC, Alvin is starting an internship (that will hopefully/likely turn into something more) at Google, Jen is enjoying the freedom that comes from being away from home at NYU, and Duncan’s passion is playing on his high school football team—and he’s pretty successful at it. All in all, this is a pretty good realization of Bà Nội’s American Dream (even if most of the family had hoped for something more lucrative for Ursala than being a writer).

Then the U.S. is rocked by a series of coordinated terrorist attacks that result in the overwhelming majority of Vietnamese-Americans being placed in various internment camps. Jen, Duncan, and their mother are placed in Camp Tacoma, while Ursula and Alvin are able to get exemptions.

The novel traces the lives of these four (as well as some of their relatives) through this dark time—showing how technology, business, the media, the government, and prejudice collude to create and maintain this system, as well as the public reaction and eventual distraction (with sporadic moments of attention and protest). But beyond that, we see how those most impacted by these policies survive this—and how they try to adjust, cling to their humanity, and try to do more than survive.

The Cousins

First, I should note that we also get some time with their shared father (who was not really involved in their lives growing up), Dan. Without getting into it, Dan took a very different path than his children—or the majority of Vietnamese-Americans—during this time. His actions—which we check in on sporadically—serve to contrast what the rest go through.

But I want to focus on—as the book does—the cousins. These are fantastically drawn, deeply flawed, and relatable characters. They all react very differently to their circumstances, and grow (or at least develop) through them in ways that are completely believable. In much the same way that the fall of Saigon and escape to the U.S. shaped the lives and psyches of their grandmother and father, this period does that to them.

More than Survival

In the beginning—even for those outside the camps—it’s just about survival. You do what you’re told, you make sure to obey the men with guns, you keep your head down and just hold on to whatever you can. But in time, you find ways to breathe, to relax, to find community and support, you even find ways to help others.

The guards organize football games for the detainees, which are attended by most of those in the camp. It allows Duncan to thrive. Jen gets work on the camp’s official newspaper—which, yes, is basically a propaganda machine (everyone knows this), but it helps her hone her writing and gets her exposure to most of the camp, as well as access. Because of her access, she’s brought into the circle of a smuggling operation that brings in some forms of food, life-saving medicine that the camp won’t bring in, and even digital copies of TV, movies, and music.

It’s through these temporary escapes from their daily circumstances—authorized or not—that the detainees are able to remember that there’s more to living than existing. There are flashes of joy and relief in the midst of their tense, precarious, and tragic circumstances.

It’s in this part of the novel that the reader is able to find more than just a frighteningly possible dystopia; it’s what elevates this.

So, what did I think about My Documents?

One of the more chilling aspects of this book is how most Americans move on from the internment. It makes headlines and creates some scandal for a bit, and then the attention of the public shifts to something else. Every now and then, something will come up that gets people riled up a little bit, but nothing sticks for most of the public. This is a dystopia—but not for everyone. Not that many people suffer. And while things could be better for people like Ursula and Alvin, outside of their own missteps and failings, their lives are pretty good.

The more I think about that, the more terrifying it is. The more realistic and possible it seems, too.

There’s a moment toward the beginning of the book where Ursula is attending a lecture from a working journalist, who says that a good story tells us something about people—how they live and how they are self-deluded. It seemed like a pretty obvious spotlight on one of Nguyen’s themes. And it happens so early, I don’t feel bad getting that specific. Not only is that a good way to think about stories (true and fictional) in general—it’s a key to this work.

Every person we spend extended time with—and several that we don’t—are under one or more forms of delusion—some external, but many come from within. This, too, is Nguyen’s realism shining forth. The way these four fool themselves is so relatable and so pitiable. It may sound like I’m criticizing the characters (and maybe I am a little), but this is a testimony to the way Nguyen depicts them, they come alive in their failings more than in their strengths.

I would’ve liked to see a little more of the relationship between Duncan and Alvin. But the way we—and they—were denied that is one of the stronger elements, the more I think about it. Once they’re unable to communicate after the internment (which, naturally, comes with a total lack of mobile phone/internet access), they themselves think about the ways they missed out.

I do think some readers will be put off by how fun this book sometimes is. Jen has a similar thought when the underground starts distributing TV shows and people get so into them—but her smuggler acquaintance assures her that this is good. There’s a little bit of enjoyment in these people’s lives now—they’re doing more than just existing.

Also, the moments of lightness do a great job of setting you up for the next gut-punch of a development. Nguyen’s is good at lulling his readers into that.

This is a gripping, well-plotted read that keeps moving along, too. There’s a momentum that slowly builds, almost like a thriller, until you’re barreling toward the conclusion.

This is a powerful, haunting, uncomfortable (purposefully) read that will also charm you. I’ve been having a hard time moving on from this book in the days since I read it. I keep finding ways to talk about it or think about it—and the more I do either, the more I appreciate this work. This is definitely one of the best—both affective and effective—books I’ve read in some time.

The Price of Power

Michael Michel

4.5

adventurous challenging dark emotional mysterious reflective tense medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Character

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Price of Power About?

This is not the easiest question to answer, I’ll tell you right now. The title really sums it up well, this is a story about what power costs—political, familial, monetary, military, personal, magical.

But that’s not much of a plot, that’s more of a description. There are four plotlines—that somewhat overlap, but most of that overlap is promised for Book Two and beyond. But the further you read, the more you see how they are intertwined even if most of the characters don’t see/understand that yet.

So I’m going to steal a little from the blurb that Michel sent me (and that I posted recently) to give some quick thoughts about each plotline.

“A mad prophet determined to control reality”

This is the hardest one to talk about, primarily because this storyline is full of symbolism, visions, dreams, and magic. The point of view character and most of the people him aren’t sure what is going on—what’s real, what’s a dream, and what’s their imagination. Those who do know what’s going on are either lying, deluded, or a supernatural entity who is trying to trick the humans.

I was engrossed, though. I may not have understood it all, but I was hooked by what I did figure out. By the last chapter of this storyline? I was gobsmacked. While I felt like I should’ve understood what Michel was going for early on, there was no reason for me to have. It was one of those situations where an author did something fairly unexpected, but did it so well that you couldn’t imagine any other way it could’ve gone.

“A dead prince who isn’t dead”

This, on the other hand, is a straightforward story about a prince whose thirst for vengeance—driven by rage and grief—led to a type of destruction that might make Tywin Lannister take a step back.

Now he’s just trying to avoid contact with everyone, denying who he is, dwelling on what he did, and what it cost him (the price he paid, to make it less than subtle). You almost feel sorry for him and wish he’d snap out of his self-pity and self-destruction when he needs to (which is right about the time we meet him). But also…if anyone should hate themselves, it’s hard to argue against him.

The action in these chapters is just great—the prince and his allies face off against some very vile criminals. The fight scenes will get your blood pumping—and maybe a fist or two (but not every time). There are horrors—and the closest you’ll get to grins in this book.

Barodane is set up for a redemption story. But I’m not convinced that’s what Michel has in mind. Of all these four plots, this is the one I’m most invested in because of some of the surrounding characters.

“An orphan with hero’s blood”

This, too, feels like a familiar fantasy story. A princess raised to take the place of her dead parents leading the nation through a tumultuous time, with everyone wondering if she is capable of doing the job. You just can’t help but feel bad for this girl. She’s got the weight of the world on her shoulders (or at least the weight of a nation), and pressures and expectations on her are as high as can be.

On the one hand, what she’s called upon to do (so far) is easier than the rest—but her age and visibility even out the scales a bit. I like her, I like her teachers and her animal companion. But honestly, everyone else in her immediate circle could be wiped out and the only reason I’d care is because of the impact it’d have on those four.

I’m pretty sure that I’ve spent a decent amount of time leaning forward during her chapters like you do during a tense part of a film (am I the only one who does that while reading?). A lot of the turns her story took were expected—but not all of them were. And a couple left me reeling.

“And a powerful seer “

This is a hard storyline to work through. This grandmother/Obi-Wan figure is a tough old lady, having to act tougher than she really is to do what she has to. Her ability to see time and reality have shown her what needs to happen, and the price she and her grandson will have to pay.

Michel keeps the details vague at this point—but you get to see enough to keep you invested and eager to learn alongside her grandson. If, as I/the title/and I think the author say, this book is about the price you pay for power—this seer has paid a hefty price already and is preparing to pay a bigger price. She’s also caused (and plans on causing) others to pay—it’s a little unclear who benefited from them paying great prices, but the seer would claim it’s for the greater good (and probably believes that).

There’s a very cool magic battle in this story—at least one, anyway—and just knowing that this kind of thing is possible around this woman will keep you invested, even if you weren’t inclined to be anyway.

This seer is very much in the Elizabeth Best (from The Thursday Murder Club)/Taishi (from The Art of Prophecy)/Akina Azure (from Partial Function) mold of scarily competent elderly characters. Barodane might be a frighteningly violent warrior, but honestly, this woman would worry me more if I lived in this world. The way she’s tied to every other storyline just makes me want to understand her more than her own did.

Dramatis personae

There’s a lengthy (or maybe my e-reader font is just set large enough that it seems that way) dramatis personae at the beginning of the novel—if you’re like me, keep it open on your phone while you use an e-reader for easy reference. If you got your hands on a paper copy, keep a bookmark there—you’re going to want to check it often for the first third or so (results may vary on your attention span or memory).

Even if you don’t rely on it, it’s a good way to think about the book—4 rosters of characters to get to know now.

I expect that those who survive will get tossed together like a salad in the ensuing novels.

How the Novel Works

This isn’t a “Book One: Barodane”, “Book Two: Princess” kind of thing where each book tells the complete story of each character. Each character/storyline gets a chapter and then it moves on to the next, and keeps rotating that way. There are some variations from the pattern, but it holds more often than not—and any of the variations only serve to push the story forward.

There are two schools of thought when it comes to chapters—a lot of authors will close an idea, or a time period at the end of a chapter. This makes it easy to put your bookmark/quitter strip in the book and set it down to sleep, eat, converse with people, or whatever. Other writers will end a chapter in a way that propels you to move on to the next (Jim Butcher, for example, talks a lot about this practice). This keeps you engaged, moves you to keep reading—and is an excellent way to annoy a reader who really has other things they should be doing.

Michel falls into the latter category. Of course, the trick with this book is that as a Bardodane chapter leaves you hungry for the next thing in his story—but you have to go through three other plotlines before you get back to it (and each one of those will leave you hungry to press on with that storyline). I love this—I also hate it. Some people will choose to skip chapters to stick with one story through the end. This is a mistake—and will inevitably involve you getting something spoiled (I can think of at least once where that spoiler is major. There may be more to come).

So gird up, and prepare for Michel to play with you like a fisherman trying to tire out his catch before reeling it all the way in.

The Secondary Characters

To keep this to a length people would want to read, I’ve limited what I’ve said about secondary characters. This is a problem—some of them just as interesting and compelling as the point-of-view characters (possibly more so). That long dramatis personae is filled with people you will want to spend time with, or at least understand better. And sure, some of them are despicable and you will root for their defeat (but you’ll still want to understand them and maybe spend time with them on the page, just not at a pub).

There are a few secondary character deaths in this book—and you know there are more to come. One of them provoked me to send a message to Michel (the number of times I do that mid-read is incredibly small), threatening him if he did something similar to another character before the fifth book (at which point, I assume almost everyone will die or be defeated). I suspect I will not be alone in feeling that way about some of these characters, even if you pick ones that aren’t as cool as the ones I pick.

Michel is not playing around when it comes to character design or messing with his reader’s emotions.

So, what did I think about The Price of Power?

I don’t know what else to say here—I think I slipped out of my typical post outline above. In case you haven’t picked up on it—this book is one of my favorite Fantasy novels in recent memory.

This is about as far from cozy fantasy as you can get, obviously. But it doesn’t quite reach what I’d define as grimdark—I’m no expert in those definitions, but that’s what my gut says. Michel prefers the term gritty—and that makes sense to me. It’s very noir, a Fantasy version of hard-boiled. I’m not going to say that it’s what Nathanael West would’ve written if he wrote a Fantasy novel—but if that idea intrigues you, this just might, too.

The prologue wowed me. The first chapter raised the stakes—and as every point-of-view character was introduced the intrigue grew. I was already impatient for the next book to be published before I finished with this one.

Go grab this one as soon as you can. Books 2 and 3 are scheduled for release this year—Book 2 should be out in June—and you’re going to want to be ready for them.

Nothing Special, Volume 2: Concerning Wings

Katie Cook

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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I just don’t know what to say about Vol. 2 that, by and large, I said about Vol. 1 of Nothing Special, but I wanted to say something. So, yeah, I appropriated a good deal of what I wrote before. If Cook is going to be so consistent that I can’t say something new, I have to.

What’s Concerning Wings About?

Callie is focused on helping her dad around his shop–she’s all-in on this life now that she understands more about where she came from and is allowed to leave the town.

Declan is getting more comfortable with his new identity, too. Until he injures his wing and it makes him very ill. Far more so than he’d imagine. So Callie starts looking for a cure–they’re pointed to fairy healer.

So they set off on a short trip to find one. Along the way they end up learning more about Fairies in general.

Lasser

I felt so bad that I couldn’t remember Lasser’s name when I posted about Vol. 1, so I made sure to get it this time.

This time his arc focuses on his obsession with Romance novels (they’d probably be classified as Romantasy in our world, but since he lives in Fairyland…they’re just Romance). They’re basically the prism he sees everything through. Until he gets the opportunity to talk to someone he finds attractive and…well. Let’s just say it works a lot better in books.

Declan and Cassie

If I’m talking about Lasser, I’d better mention these two. But what is there to day? They’re so cute. Individually and as a couple.

They’ve grown as a couple in between books–they know how to read each other, take care of each other–and have fun with each other. (even at the other’s expense, in a good-hearted way).

I should have something more to say about them, but I don’t. Based on the way this volume ends, I’ll have something more to work with after Vol. 3.

A Word The Art

I just loved it. It’s bright, energetic, lively, and adorable. That last one may sound patronizing, but I can’t come up with a better word for all of the art. It just brought a smile to my face.

The radish ghost (all the ghosts, but let’s focus on it) is one of the cutest things I’ve seen in months. The little accent bits of art throughout the book featuring similar looking ghosts and non-story jokes are just as good.

I don’t know what else to say, but I loved the art.

So, what did I think about Concerning Wings?

From the dedication (literally) to the end, and all points in between, I had a blast with this book.

I don’t have anything deep, meaningful, or particularly insightful to say here—nor do I have a lot to say (believe it or not).

I thought the story was fun. I less-than-threed the characters so much. The art made me smile—as did the book as a whole. The pages just melted away. It’s cute, it’s effortlessly charming, it’s sweet, and full of whimsy. ‘Nuff said.

Your results may vary, obviously, but this just made me happy. I’m in for the long-haul with this series.

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