theirresponsiblereader's Reviews (607)

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Not Sure Why I Feel Compelled to Say This, But… 

I’m going to make a lot of allusions to other comics/superhero stories. This is intentional and, I think, warranted. Oswalt and Blum are satirizing, paying tribute to, and playing with tried-and-true superhero ideas. When I say they’re doing something ____-esque, or in the vein of, etc. I’m not criticizing, I’m describing. Their work is derivative of more things than I’m aware of because they’re commenting on those things. Oswalt and Blum know their stuff, they’ve drunk deeply from more comic wells than I can imagine and used that to produce this series. 

Frankie 

When she was a kid, Frankie was the costumed sidekick of her mother, a supervillain/thief. At some point, they were arrested and Frankie went to prison. When she got out, she tried to go straight and get a decent job, but we all know how hard it is for an ex-con to get a job, when that ex-con is a Meta? Forget it—door after door slammed in her face. Finally, she found a job working as a bartender in a bar that catered to supervillains. Not really the elite-level villains, but the “lower ranked” ones—with just enough power to typically need a superhero instead of the police. Think the sillier ones in the Suicide Squad. 

I’ve seen this kind of bar in Spider-Man comics, a superhero version in The Tick (animated), and a few other places like that. Frankie is friendly with a couple of her regulars but regards most of them with a kind of contempt/pity mixture. Frankie’s the stereotypical Alcoholic in Recovery working as a Bartender—just her addiction is using the abilities that got her locked up. 

Not-Jason Todd/The Joker/Batman 

So remember what Batman wanted to do to the Joker after he (assisted by the readers of DC Comics) beat the life out of Jason Todd? What would’ve happened if Superman hadn’t stepped in? Well, we get the answer here—after a Joker-esque character (The Stickman) kills the kid sidekick (Kid Dusk) of a Batman-esque hero (The Insomniac), The Insomniac goes on a vigilante rampage looking for The Stickman—and woe to anyone who gets in his way. The story kicks off with someone stumbling into the bar holding the beaten near-corpse of one supervillain who was “interrogated” by The Insomniac. 

This leads to the biggest crackdown on Meta criminals ever—the heroes and the police are trying to lock them all up for their own safety more than because of any crimes. It’s wreaking all sorts of havoc. To put a stop to this, Frankie and some acquaintances/customers decide they need to find The Stickman themselves and kill him themselves. Why wait for the good guys to do the job? If Stickman is out of the picture, The Insomniac might be able to be stopped—or maybe stop himself. 

Sure, none of these criminals are the best choices for this—and most are past the prime of their abilities—but it’s not like they have a better idea. 

The Art 

I can’t put my finger exactly on how to describe the art—it reminded me of a lot of mid-80s Marvel Comics art, with shades of Gotham Central. That’s going to help precisely no one, but it’s the best I can do. 

I really dug it—the art fits the story and the characters well. It wasn’t too flashy or too polished—neither would fit this story. There’s a roughness to it (but not in a negative way) that really suited what Oswalt and Blum were doing. 

So, what did I think about Minor Threats: A Quick End To A Long Beginning? 

This is dark. It’s twisted. It’s funny—and it’s not really funny at all. There’s some tragedy to this, too. 

I want more. Now. 

Is it the greatest comic story I’ve come across lately? Nah, but the way the creative team is playing with, exploring, exploiting, and so on with tropes, stand-bys, themes, character-types, etc. is just so much fun and so interesting. 

There’s just a solid story in the midst of all this, too. It’s more than meta-commentary on superhero stories, it’s a good one itself. But for me to really dig into it the way it deserves would take more time and energy than I’m willing to devote to it. So I’ll just leave it at this—you’re going to dig this. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader along with a Q&A with the author.
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What’s the Setting for Stone of Asylum? 

While we spend a little time in California, this takes place largely in the Idaho territory (in what would now be considered North Central Idaho…I think) during the Civil War. 

There are characters with strong sympathies toward both sides of the War, but it doesn’t come up much, really. Mostly I mention that because it helps locate the story. We do get to see a lot of the racism faced by Chinese workers (Asians in general, although they’re all considered Chinese) in the mines (and other places), as well as other kinds of bigotry and mistreatment of others. 

It’s not a kind or forgiving world that Johnson gives us in these pages, but it’s one that seems pretty realistic. At least until you get to the man who can turn into animals. But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

Yi Bae 

Yi Bae is a Korean warrior who has made his way to San Francisco looking for his sister—they’d been separated sometime before as they traveled through China. He needs to find her to fulfill his mission in life—he is to protect her at all costs. Together they are the last two Watchers in the world—a duty his family has to protect a particular type of garnet with magical abilities. 

His search for his sister brings him into conflict with a Chinese businessman/criminal in San Francisco. He then learns some things that convince him to look for his sister in Idaho, which is in the midst of mining booms of various types. He finds that same businessman—who Yi Bae is convinced has something to do with his sister’s disappearance. He also finds himself in the employ, however temporarily, of some less-than-decent people, but is doing what he has to do to track down the other Watcher. 

Not only is Yi Bae very capable when it comes to hand-to-hand combat (and those scenes are a lot of fun to read), but that thing I said before about changing into animals? Well, he can do that, too. He’s more like DC’s Garfield Logan (Beast Boy/Changeling) or Jane Yellowrock than your typical lycanthrope, because he can change into various animals. 

Eldora 

Our other protagonist is Eldora—a young woman whose father is an employee of a wealthy family. Eldora is old enough to begin working as a servant on their ranch. Her primary duty is to be a companion to the family’s daughter. The reader understands quickly that Eldora thinks the relationship is closer than the daughter does—and far closer than the ranch’s owners do. Despite living in a part of the territory that is already fading from prominence in favor of other locales where the mining is better, they’re trying to cling to Southern gentility’s pretensions of position and class. 

She is happy (naively so) and well-loved. Which is no small thing. If you can read about Eldora and not almost immediately like her, there’s something wrong with you. Sadly, you know that this happiness and (perhaps) loving environment isn’t going to last long. 

I’ll skip over some nasty classist business that reeks of Austen/Brontë-esque villains to the turning point—she has some sort of seizure and is taken from the ranch almost immediately—without her father’s involvement. She’s placed in an asylum, which is exactly as pleasant an experience as you can imagine given the time and location. It might actually be worse. Now we get to find out exactly what Eldora’s made of. 

A Chance Encounter 

Eldora and Yi Bae do eventually (as we all expected) cross paths with each other—on her way from the ranch. This was my favorite part of the book and I was eager to see what would happen in that eventuality. Sadly, it didn’t last that long—but it did change things for both of them (sadly, only the readers really understand that, for now). 

It was kind of a let-down when they didn’t spend too much time around each other, but that’s what future books in the series are for—and what we got was enough to make me want more. A lot more. Which is odd because it wasn’t like they struck up a friendship, or even had a really good conversation. But there was something about them in the same scenes that really worked for me. 

The Part that Really Bugged Me 

I’m not crazy about the way that Johnson ended this book. It was a bit too abrupt—it felt like she hit a word-limit or page-count and said, “Okay, that’s enough,” and just stopped. 

That’s not at all what she intended (I trust)—but that’s what it felt like to me. The last chapter was likely to have been a cliffhanger ending to bring people back for book 2. And that’s fair—I’m not the world’s biggest fan of cliffhangers, but I can appreciate a good one (and can begrudgingly accept them). This wasn’t a good one. I think if she’d left the last couple of pages off and just resolved the arcs for this novel, the ending would’ve been more satisfying. Also, the closing pages and implied threat to one protagonist would’ve been a great hook to start the second novel. I was interested in seeing what happened next to both main characters and knew things weren’t that great for both of them already—I didn’t need the threat to carry me along. 

That’s just me—I might be wrong and your results will almost certainly vary. 

So, what did I think about Stone of Asylum? 

This is a deceptively fast read—there’s a lot more to be mined* from this book if you stop and soak it in—Johnson makes that tough and you can easily just sail along with the current. This is a perfectly fine and enjoyable way to read the book, but you’ll be happier if you catch everything she’s doing. 

* Sorry. Had to. 

Her fight scenes are great—particularly the way she works in Yi Bae’s supernatural abilities and martial arts skills together. Even if I didn’t care about anything else, I’d probably give the book 3 stars just for these fight scenes. 

Yes, I wasn’t happy with the last couple of pages, but the rest were an intriguing mix of family drama, action, fantasy, and cultures mixing (and/or trying not to mix). This blend is a great idea and I’m really looking forward to seeing how Johnson develops this and brings our heroes (and several other characters) through it. I’m also really looking forward to seeing some characters get their just desserts (I’m pretty sure Johnson’s going to be that kind of author) and our heroes figuring out everything they missed or misunderstood here. 

In short—this is a solid first entry to a trilogy that I’m eager to see played out over the next two books. I think you will be, too. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s However Long the Day About? 

This is a The Prince and the Pauper-esque story set in New York in 1918 with the son of a wealthy politician and an activist mother hiring his doppelganger, a recent Irish immigrant, to stand in for him for one night. Fredrick (the rich guy) got caught (again) doing something reckless and is about to be subject to a lecture/tirade from his father before being sent to his room for the evening (a room, it should be noted, that’s bigger than the apartment Niall is sharing with his uncle). Sure, it’s ridiculous that someone in his early-to-mid-20s (I’m guessing) is being treated that way. But if he wants to siphon off of his parents, I’m guessing he has to put up with ridiculous things like this. 

I’d better move on before I open another parenthesis. 

Niall was offered more money than he could make in a year, so he has to sign on. This kicks off 12 hours (or so) of mistaken identities, women kissing the wrong me, kidnappings, abductions, fights, beatings, criminals, police, criminal police, plots being hatched, secrets being exposed, plans going awry, plans coming to fruition, and so much more. 

Frederick Philips 

Frederick is a spoiled and apparently useless man desperate to get out from underneath his father’s thumb. He’ll do anything to accomplish that, except get a decent job and put in an honest day’s work. He needs to live in the manner to which he’s become accustomed, and there’s no way he can do that easily. I’m pretty sure Archie Goodwin would call him a “fop,” and although that word’s not really used anymore, it feels rather fitting (and not just because of the setting for the book). 

He appears to have tried gambling and some other hare-brained (and likely illegal) schemes that have put him on the wrong side of at least one crime syndicate. One of the things he’s trying while Niall pretends to be him is the culmination of a lot of his scheming—he’s trying for the big score that’ll equip him to set up a new life in Philadelphia. 

Niall Donovan 

Niall has been in NYC for a month and we meet him as he’s struggling to substitute for his Uncle Paddy on his ice delivery route. Paddy’s fighting off the Spanish Flu* and needs someone to cover so he can keep his job. Niall’s not that good at the fairly thankless job, but it’s a way he can contribute. 

* The grief given to the police officer wearing a mask—and his defending the practice—feels pretty timely. 

Other than in appearance, Niall’s everything that Frederick isn’t—he’s a hard worker, he’s honest and honorable—and can acquit himself well in a fight. You’ll have a really hard time not being immediately charmed by him and wanting to see him succeed everywhere. He might be so loyal, so devoted, so determined to do the right thing that he puts himself in some stupid and dangerous situations, quite honestly. And more than once you’ll shake your head at him making a choice that’s sure to lead to problems—but you’ll still root for him. 

Other Characters 

Frederick’s ally/accomplice in all this is named Ivy. She lives near him, with parents in a similar social standing—she’s equally miserable but doesn’t have the means to get away from home. She’s a little more level-headed than Frederick and works with him—urging him to take some chances for both of their sakes. 

Flora works in domestic service for one of the homes on Paddy’s route and Niall is pretty sweet on her (the feeling’s mutual). She’s hands down my favorite character in the book—she’s everything that Niall is (but backwards and in high heels), but generally thinks more clearly (except for the one time she encourages Niall’s foolhardiness. Both of them end up regretting that). I wish I could tell you all the reasons I love Flora, but that’d involve spoilers. 

Niall’s Uncle Paddy is a great guy, too. He’s doing all he can (in his very limited way) to help Niall acclimate to New York and to get established. 

And I’m going on too long—I can’t talk about all the great characters—but Reed’s got a knack for creating characters that come to life. There’s not one of them that you’re not going to have a very solid impression of—and probably a pretty good mental image for (despite minimal description in the text). I could’ve easily enjoyed more scenes with each and every character—except maybe Frederick—because I just enjoyed watching them in action so much. 

The Object Itself 

Most of the time I don’t talk about things like covers, printing, and whatnot—it’s just not something I want to dwell on (and frequently it’s stuff outside an author’s control). But when it’s done this well—particularly by a self-published author, I want to take a moment to talk. 

The printing, binding, and so on for this book is top-notch. Indistinguishable from most of the hardcovers on my shelf. The cover design as well as the interiors were done with skill and care. Does this help the reading experience much? Probably only a negligible amount. But it’s clear that Reed put some money into the production end of this—money and care. As much effort into that as he put into the words on the page (or close). 

I wonder if he regrets that—or if by trimming a few costs, he’d be closer to making a profit. But for me? I appreciate an author putting their money where their mouth is. Again, I don’t know if it added much to the experience, but I sure enjoyed that part. 

So, what did I think about However Long the Day? 

As far as I can tell—Reed nailed the historical setting. His NYC of 1918 looks and feels like histories of the era that I’m familiar with—and with books from around that era that I’ve read. I’m no expert by any means, but it felt accurate—and if I raised an eyebrow at any of his historical details, they didn’t bother me enough to remember or write in my notes. I’m open to correction on this point, but I’d say he dealt with this part well. 

I’ve talked briefly about the characters already, so let’s move on to the plot. It took a while for a clear picture to develop about what was going on, but the ride to that point was so fun, I really didn’t care—I just kept wondering what the next scene would bring. Sure, there were some moments early on that I wondered if he was trying to juggle too many storylines and characters, and I will admit to shaking my head a few times when he’d throw in something new or insert a new difficulty or obstacle for Niall or Frederick to overcome. Eventually, I started to see the tapestry he was weaving and was glad to see that patience rewarded—Reed knew where he was going and led us on a straight path that only seemed to be meandering. 

Every now and then, I wondered if Reed was hitting either Niall and Paddy’s Irishisms* a bit too hard—or if he was laying on the 1910s jargon/slang a bit too thick. But it was less often than I assumed I’d think something like that going in—and it really was rare that I wondered that. There was a time or two that I wondered if the dialogue in general was a bit preachy (whether or not I agreed), or wordy in general. 

But overall, I was really impressed with Reed’s writing. Near the 300-page mark I got a little uneasy. There was maybe 30 pages of story left, how was he going to fill up another hundred or so? It turns out that it was super easy, barely an inconvenience. Not only that, it was some of the best story-telling he’d done up to that point. Most of it didn’t even depend on the mistaken/interchangeable identity aspect of the book. It’s not often that I misjudge an author’s pacing anymore, especially not a first-time author (and when I do, it’s generally not a good thing)—but Reed taught me a welcome lesson in humility there. 

I was pleasantly surprised throughout this book—I didn’t expect anything much to strike me as funny when I picked it up, for example. I was optimistic about the premise and anticipated enjoying it. But I expected a fairly earnest, straightforward drama. But Reed gave us some good action, some interesting hijinks, and some solid comedy. (Yes, there’s a chance that I found things funny that I shouldn’t have…I’ll grant you that, and apologize to Reed if that offends him). 

One example of the comedy that really stood out to me–there’s a recurring discussion about the choice of cake vs. fruit pie. It feels straight out of Tarantino, or maybe Jim Gaffigan. It essentially becomes a personality test–and Frederick fails, incidentally. It becomes this nice bit of humor, it helps solidify Flora as a character, it humanizes some of the gangsters (see Tarantino), and is something that really helps the reader to connect with the characters. The fact that it has almost nothing to do with the plot is a great bonus, it becomes something where the characters can interact as human beings regardless of what’s going on. Also, anything that allows Flora to shine and makes Frederick look bad is worth pointing out. 

Clearly, I enjoyed this book a lot. If this is what Reed can do for a debut, I can’t wait to see what he accomplishes for a follow-up. I strongly recommend you all to go pick this one up. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Placing the Book 

It’s been too many years (and too many books) since I read the early books in The Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences series, so I’m a little fuzzy on the Ministry Seven. But from things said throughout this book—and my dusty memory—I’d put this book slightly earlier than that series (or maybe right after book one…but I’m pretty sure it’s earlier). We’re in your classic Victorian Steampunk area dealing with an agent for the Ministry dealing with fringe science and other weirdness and the street urchins that he uses for things he can’t do. 

Think the Baker Street Irregulars. But with goggles. 

What’s The Curse of the Silver Pharaoh About? 

Verity Fitzroy’s primary focus in life is finding out what happened to her parents and why. She’s tracked down one person who she’s convinced could help her—and when she attempts to contact him, she disturbs a Ministry operation involving their Ministry contact, Agent Harrison Thorne. Because things go so wrong during this operation an Egyptologist is kidnapped and Verity’s contact is gone. 

Thorne recruits the Seven to help him track down the kidnap victim. All tracks lead to the Delancy Academy—a school outside of London for students gifted in the sciences (most of whom come from money, obviously). The oldest two are enrolled (and, shine, it should be said) in the Academy to try to discover the tie between the Academy and the kidnappers. 

The rest take up residence on a nearby farm to wait for their chance to help out. These children aren’t ready for life in the countryside—the work is different from what they’re used to doing (scrambling for scraps on the streets of London) and the environment as a whole takes some adjusting. 

So, what did I think about The Curse of the Silver Pharaoh? 

I don’t have a lot to say about this, and it kind of bugs me. Because it seems like I should. I had a real blast with this—it had a different flavor as a whole than the Ministry books—there’s more of a supernatural bent to things, and the whole sexual-tension thing between Books and Braun is absent (obviously). 

There’s more of a YA-feel to it, too. Largely because the oldest two in the Seven are young adults. But it doesn’t ever scream YA—it’s just a fun fish-out-of-water adventure for a bunch of Steampunk kids. 

I liked the devices that the Academy’s students cooked up and would’ve been very content to spend a few months watching things at the school before the main action of the novel kicked in. Verity’s new friend Julia McTighe is part Luna Lovegood, part whatever Amari Peter’s best friend was called (I can’t believe I can’t come up with it)—and all sorts of fun. I hope they find a way to bring her back for the second book. 

It’s a short, fast, steampunkily fun adventure. That’s good enough for me. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Eye of the Sh*t Storm About?
Obviously, spoilers for the previous book are going to come into play here…if you’re concerned about that, skip to the stars at the bottom and move on. Actually, I’ll make it easy for you: ★ ★ ★ ★. Proceed at your own risk.

It’s been two months since Random Sh*t Flying Through the Air, L.A. (and the rest of California) is still struggling to deal with the loss of infrastructure, lives, jobs, and sense of normalcy that had been ripped from them. Teagan and her team have resumed their work as best as they can.

The book opens just as a mission to uncover an illegal gun sales ring goes horribly awry—leading to my opening quotation. Before the team has a chance to recover from this debacle, they’re sent to investigate a strange occurrence that is right up their alley. A storage unit complex—the entire thing, from asphalt to walls to ceilings and everything in between—has become electrically charged. Technically, that’s impossible, right? But so are psychokinetics like Teagan and the earthquake-inducing little boy we met in the last book.

Teagan figures out a way to get her inside the complex and discovers the cause–another little boy. About the same age as the one she faced off with two months ago. But this boy is different—he’s scared. He’s not in control of his power at the moment because he just wants his dad and to get away from “the Zigzag Man” (whoever that is). Teagan knows her job is to bring the kid in and turn him over to the authorities. But she can’t do that—this boy, Leo, isn’t out to hurt anyone. He’s not trying to fry California or anything. He just wants his dad, and Teagan can’t imagine subjecting Leo to the experiments and testing that he’d be subjected to if she did her job.

So, she goes AWOL, hoping to reunite Leo with his family before she figures out what to do with her employers. She’s eventually tracked down by her friends—some agree to help her, some try to apprehend Leo. Things get messy from there. And they all learn pretty quickly that Leo was right to want to get as far away as humanly possible from the Zigzag Man.

Reggie
Of the group, the character we’ve spent the least amount of time with. This makes sense—she’s the “woman in the chair,” as Ned Leeds would put it. She’s their hacker, their supervisor, the one calling the shots from home base and doing what she can to dig up information for them in the field. She’s also in a wheelchair, limiting what she can do in the field (but she pushes those limits as often as possible).

This book solves the we-don’t-get-to-spend-time-with-Reggie problem by giving her several point-of-view chapters. When we’re not with Teagan, we’re with her. And I loved it—I’d take a Reggie solo story anytime. She’s just a rich character—getting to focus on her and having some of her backstory filled in are just great. She had a pretty impressive résumé already, but what she accomplishes here proves that Teagan’s not the only impressive one on the team (that could be said for all of them, really, but I want to focus on Reggie).

Her future looks pretty different going into Book 4 than it has so far—but I’m looking forward to seeing what she does in this new stage of life. I predict things will look better for her within the next 400 pages than it does now.

I Didn’t Expect This To Come Up
There’s a subplot running through all this where Teagan deals with the come down from an accidental (and large) exposure to meth and struggles to experiment with it some more. This is due to the withdrawal symptoms she’s suffering, and also because it turns out that meth supercharges her abilities for a brief period and that sounds really handy right now.

Now, I don’t know how realistic all the non-superpower effects of meth and the temptation to use it again so soon are. But it feels real. And the fact that I have to clarify “non-superpower” does put us outside the realm of realism already.

Teagan goes through a lot in this book (and series), but the way she looks into the temptation of great power at a great cost and cannot shake it immediately was really well depicted and—so far—the most compelling. This temptation keeps calling her name, she’s able to justify/allllllllmost justify experimenting with the drug. And maybe giving herself over entirely to the addiction.

Teagan’s Growth

 
This is already longer than I’d planned, so I’m going to be brief here—in my post about Random Sh*t Flying Through the Air I talked about Teagan’s growth in terms of power and maturity—and how far she has to go. That’s still present, but she’s making progress—and she’s aware of her need.

I think she gives herself more credit than she deserves in this quest up to this point—but she’s moving in the right direction. And who wants a perfect protagonist anyway?

So, what did I think about Eye of the Sh*t Storm?

 
There was a point where my eReader was at risk of flying through a window. Thankfully for the sake of marital harmony (and my poor eReader), that didn’t happen (my notes read, “No no no no no no no no,” and I was able to limit it to that). Frost has demonstrated that no character is safe, the status quo is not respected, and that readers should not think that anything is settled. This is not a bug, this is a feature. Not necessarily one that promotes emotional health in a reader, however, but it’s a feature.
 
What Ford’s cavalier attitude toward my blood pressure does is heighten every moment, intensify every conflict (even if it doesn’t seem like it’s time for a major happening), and keeps you focused throughout as you speed through the pages.
 
I’ve been annoyed with myself for not staying on top of this series since the summer of 2020—and now that I’m almost caught up—I’m even more annoyed with myself. But for now, I’m just happy I got this posted so I can move on to the next book in a few days.
 
If you’re into super-hero-adjacent kind of stories, this series is a must-read. Could you do okay by starting with this book? Sure—Ford won’t let you get lost and will help you get oriented in the midst of things. But do yourself a favor and start with the first book and do it soon.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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I apologize in advance for all the references to Stephanie Plum that follow. This is sort of like all the people who mention Adams or Pratchett when talking about humor in Science Fiction or Fantasy, even if the styles don’t match. It’s just hard to talk about a character like this and a book like this without mentioning Stephanie. 

Also, Crane did that herself when I met her. So she stuck it in my head. 

What’s Barking for Business About? 

After the latest in a series of successful investigations that double as calamities (you’ll have to read the first couple of chapters to see), Specialist Cynthia Sharp, MP, and her partner, Sgt. Pupperson, are discharged from the Army and return to Cyn’s hometown of Sweet Pea, OH—a very small town that should provide some peace and quiet while they decide their next move. 

Before they can even enter the Sharp residence, a neighbor approaches Cyn with a job—someone has been taking money from the church bingo funds and she wants Cyn to put an end to it. Mostly because she can’t say no to this older woman—and because she has nothing else to do—she agrees. 

This puts Cyn on a collision course with a military crime, a murderer, some serious gangsters, identity thieves, and more. She also has to deal with a love (lust?) triangle and reuniting with a best friend whose fantastic baked goods could probably prove dangerous to anyone with a weakness for sweets. 

Sgt. Winnifred Pupperson 

Winnie, as she prefers to be called, is a Belgian Malinois dog that found her match in her K-9 handler. She’s reckless enough to make Chet the Jet look disciplined, is very food motivated (sure, she’s a dog, so that’s a given—but as most dog people know, there are levels—she can sniff out junk food faster than Brenda Leigh Johnson, and is the perfect combination of canine athleticism, furry chaos, and unintentional hilarity. 

My only complaint is that there’s not quite enough of her. Cyn leaves her at home too often. Probably a realistic amount—but too much for my taste. Hopefully, in time the people of Sweet Pea accept her presence in places they shouldn’t so she can be in on more of the action. 

And You Think Stephanie Plum is Hard on Cars? 

Hopefully, this isn’t too much of a spoiler, but it’s so good I have to talk about it. 

Early on, Cyn breaks her arm in an understandable mishap. And over the next 240 or so pages, has to keep replacing the cast after catastrophe after catastrophe befalls it. 

Somehow, every time, the reaction of the medical staff and the predicament she finds herself in makes me laugh. Every time. I cannot believe how well this recurring joke worked for me (that’s not a slight on Crane—it’s about my sense of humor/patience). You think she’s done with it—and she’s not. In fact, you find yourself wondering how it’ll happen again and looking forward to it. 

The Fun Twist of Character 

Yes, she’s clumsy. Sure, she’s easily distracted. Her dog handling skills are, um, sub-par. But I tell you what…when it’s crunch time? When things matter? Cyn is sharp.* She is more competent than you expect—piecing together clues, dealing with dangerous situations, and saving the day like the seasoned pro you’d expect from someone just out of the MPs. When that aspect started to really show itself I was impressed. This isn’t about someone flailing about and somehow stumbling on to the truth of the matter (like a certain NJ bond enforcement officer or Inspector Gadget)—it’s about an accident-prone woman who can shine when given the opportunity. 

* I know. I know. I’m sorry. 

So, what did I think about Barking for Business? 

This was just ridiculously fun. It’s hard to come up with more to say than that (obviously, I’ve found a way, but the temptation to just write that sentence and move on was strong). 

There’s a little too much peril and action for this to technically be a cozy, I think. But I could be wrong about that. Regardless, it’s in that same zip code. The focus is never really on that—it’s about the puzzle, it’s about the antics of Cyn and Winnie. Cozy fans should feel very at home with it. More than anything, Barking for Business is a comedy—there are few pages that go by without something—a little slapstick, a nice bit of humor in the narration, Cyn saying something she’ll regret, or worse, learning something about her parents that she’ll regret. 

Do I worry that the town is too small to keep things happening? Sure. But when their first case starts with money missing from the church’s bingo earnings, it’s obvious that Crane can make much from little. Do I worry that the schtick of the series will get old by book 5 or 6? A little. But I worry that about the premise of several series, and it means that I have at least 4 or 5 more books to enjoy before that happens. For now? I’m just going to shut my pie hole and enjoy the ride. 

This is a fast, breezy read that’s full of excitement and humor. It’s the perfect book for people who fondly remember the first few Stephanie Plum books or have ever wondered what it would be like if Miranda Hart or Mindy Kaling wrote crime fiction (possibly co-writing it). I’ve got the second novel on my shelf already and am trying to figure out how to get it read quickly. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Sheriff Titus Crown 

We’re going to start with this character, instead of the plot. He makes or breaks your experience with this book more than anything else. 

Titus Crown had a long career in the FBI until he retired and came home to take care of his father after a surgery. (or at least that’s what he tells people). An opening in the office of Sheriff presented an opportunity, and Titus was talked into running by many in the community. He’s now the first black Sheriff of Charon County, Virginia. It looks likely that he’ll be the last one for a while, too. 

Electing Titus hadn’t initiated a golden era of racial reconciliation. True, minorities weren’t routinely pulled over for little reason, aren’t beaten, and so on—they’re treated fairly under the law. As are white men. Because Titus knows he has to play it straight—if he acted the way some of his supporters wanted him to, he’d be no better than his predecessors—and there’s no way the county government would let him stay in power. But mostly Titus treats everyone the same no matter their race or financial status because that’s the way he’s built. It’s just not in him to do otherwise. 

Sadly, for many of the people that voted for him, that means he’s not the first black Sheriff anymore. He’s blue. 

He is smart, controlled, and driven. For him, these are both strengths and curses—his life would be easier if those qualities weren’t so strong in him. Then again, he wouldn’t have accomplished almost everything he has otherwise. 

When he’s not doing a thankless job that he wonders why he asked for, he’s trying to keep his girlfriend. He knows he’s not good at long-term relationships, but he keeps trying. He wants to be good at them—or at least better. 

The Instigating Incident 

I feel okay talking about this because it’s in the book description—I wouldn’t have otherwise (and am very glad I can because I don’t know how I’d have danced around it). 

On the two-year anniversary of his taking office, Titus’ relaxed morning is interrupted by reports of an active shooter at the high school. In the midst of the chaos he and his deputies encounter when they arrive on the scene, he learns that one teacher has been killed in a targeted attack. They have a brief conversation with the shooter before his deputies open fire and kill him. 

Titus has to calm the public, investigate both the shooter and his deputies, and somehow explain to an old friend why his son is dead at the hands of his department. But first… 

What the Novel is Really About… 

Until that morning, there’d been two murders in Charon County in the last fifteen years. Following up on something the shooter said, Titus and his deputies stumble onto something that makes the school shooting the least horrible thing imaginable. It turns out that there’d been more than two murders—several more. A serial killer has been active in Charon County for several years. 

This is the kind of serial killer that will haunt the dreams of every officer involved in the investigation for the rest of their lives—and more than a few waking hours, as well. There’s the sheer number of victims that happened in this supposedly quiet and peaceful community without anyone noticing. There’s the brutality (a word that somehow feels inadequate) of what was done to the victims. And then they start to learn about the psychology of the killer—and what kind of life must’ve driven him to these killings. 

Any of those are likely to leave some scars on Titus and his team—the combination is sure to. And when the killer changes up their modus operandi in reaction to people discovering what they’ve been up to and to discourage Titus? 
A new level of horror emerges. 

Some of the Other Things Going On 

On top of all of this are: 

All in all, Titus has to wish that he’d never moved back home.
 
I’m pretty sure I left some stuff off that list—but this book never feels overstuffed.
 
So, what did I think about All the Sinners Bleed?
It’s this kind of book that makes me wish I was a real reviewer instead of a fanboy yelling by bookish yawp across the rooftops of the world. This begs for literary analysis. Sparse, but rich, prose that further disproves the notion that genre can’t be the home of good writing. Cosby tackles hard issues—but really doesn’t try to solve them—he merely puts them on display for readers to acknowledge and wrestle with.

It’s also just a cracking thriller that could be read as shallowly as you want and would keep you white-knuckled and racing to the final confrontation. Tricksy writer that he is, Cosby’s style makes that incredibly easy to do—but if you go that way, you miss the richness of this book.

Cosby’s Blacktop Wasteland blew me away as did this one. I wrote:
 

 
All the Sinners Bleed starts off more slowly (although the first few lines are dynamite), and it’s last line hits far differently, but the quality in between is just the same. Cosby’s going to knock you out every time you pick up one of his books, he’s just going to come at you from a different direction than last time.

This is not the beginning of a series—but I wish it was. I’d love to spend years with (many of) these people. Instead, we get to join them for one intense period in their lives and in the dark history of their town. That’s more than enough.*

* Also, more crimes like this in Charon County would be stretching credulity in a way that would be difficult to do with integrity.

Hopefully, I’m not over-hyping this book. My rating is one of the easiest 5 stars I’ve ever given. When I finished this book, I texted a friend that “Well, I really don’t have to read anything else this year, right? What’s going to match this?” Cosby’s talked frequently about the impact that some of Dennis Lehane’s early books made on him—there’s at least one yet-to-be-published crime writer out there who will be talking about All the Sinners Bleed in the same way in the years to come.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Real Tigers‘ Flap Copy 

I don’t like what I’ve come up with to describe the book, so I’m just going to use the flap copy: 

 
The Introduction
I absolutely love the way that Herron introduces Slough House and its denizens in each book. It reminds me of the way that Rex Stout’s Archie gives the rundown of Wolfe’s Brownstone and the routine in each book. But Herron’s unique approach to each introduction has really clicked with me and I look forward to this part of the books.

I can see just opening up one of these at random from time to time, reading the description of Slough House, and moving on with just a quick refreshing hit of Herron’s magic.

Roddy Ho
Roddy Ho is a great hacker—that’s clear. He’s probably almost as good as he thinks he is. The level of delusion he has about his desirability to women outdoes even Crais’ John Chen (and that’s saying something)—it’s a fun character trait, even if it is hard to believe that someone can be that clueless about themselves.*

* 5 minutes on social media reminded me of the power of self-delusion. Never mind.

That said…it’s easy between books to remember how fun it is to see him getting verbally smacked around by Lamb or River pressuring him to work, and how good he is at the technical stuff, etc.—but to forget just what wholly unpleasant person he is. I mentioned John Chen before, Chen is helpless and harmless (while being a misogynistic creep). Roddy doesn’t have that veneer of hapless charm that Chen carries—and is a bigger misogynistic creep. I just want to wash my hands after a scene focused on him if it shows him thinking or talking about women. He probably belongs in prison and would’ve ended up there if not for being employed by MI5.

Team Building?
I will say, for a bunch of misanthropic individualists, when it comes to one of their own, the Slow Horses are really good at teamwork. They spend so much time on their own, regretting their own mistakes that landed them in Slough House, dreaming and scheming their way back to Regent’s Park, etc. that they all have a serious bit of tunnel vision. They’re all focused on themselves to the exclusion of pretty much everyone else—but they’re becoming closer to a true team—particularly when one of them is in some sort of jeopardy.

It’s nice to see—and generally funny, because they’re so bad at teamwork. But the bits that they get right—either on the job or off—are heartwarming to see.

As heartwarming as this series gets, anyway.

So, what did I think about Real Tigers?
The way that this book deals with the Dead Lions-aftermath is the best part for me. Obviously, most of that has to do with Lousia, but it’s there for everyone to one degree or another. Yes, these books can be read as stand-alones, but there’s an impact to be felt from the previous novels. The MI5 and political machinations behind all the actions—the twists, double-twists, and triple-twists. I know that’s part-and-parcel for this series, so I’m not complaining about that. It felt off…overdone maybe? The Slow Horses doing their thing was entertaining enough. But the package as a whole felt like a letdown.
 
Still, I loved reading this book. Herron can put together a sentence like no one else. I can’t imagine there’s something I wouldn’t want to read him describe. Even when I didn’t really connect with the story, I couldn’t stop reading—that’s all down to Herron’s skill and the fantastic characters he fills his books with. I’m not just talking about the Horses, even the characters that you’re going to see for 1-2 chapters feel like they’ve got a depth to them that could sustain a novel.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader along with a Q&A with the author about the book.
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What’s Klone’s Stronghold About? 

A year ago, Reeni escaped her abusive marriage—her ex-husband has turned into a stalker, he’s apparently a man of some status in the community and was able to get her fired from her job as a Special Ed teacher and Reeni’s on the verge of having to move a long way away just to find a new position. To add insult to injury, her family keeps trying to get her to reconcile with her ex. 

Two dear friends convince her to attend a music festival with them—they love this band (she enjoys them, but isn’t going to be following them around like Deadheads). It’s a few days away from home, there’s no way that Karl is going to show up here. She needs some time in safety and peace to think about life. And if she happens to have a little fun? All the better. 

Of course, it doesn’t work out. Karl shows up with some friends (or henchmen, your call). The band’s security takes care of them while Reeni finds a safe place to hide out. Before Karl had arrived, Reeni had struck up a friendship (or the beginning of one) with one of the security team—a supernatural of some kind. He comes to her with a proposal—he knows a guy who is working with a small group of supernatural people who are socially and educationally delayed, and are in need of a teacher to work on both areas. Due to the nature of their work and abilities, Karl won’t be able to approach her there; and she’ll get paid a very tidy sum if she commits for a few months in this out-of-the-way spot in the Eastern Oregon mountains. 

Intrigued by the job—and desperate to get refuge—she agrees. 

Because I’m struggling to finish this section, I’m just going to borrow from the official Description: 

 
The Cozy That Could’ve Been
Sure, when Reynolds-Ward wrote this, cozy fantasy wasn’t really a thing (I’m sure it existed, but it was so far under the radar…), so it might not have crossed her mind to do this, but…

If she had abandoned the last 46% or so of the book and had just stuck with Reeni’s work in the classroom for a few months, letting us watch the progress she makes with her charges? I’d have been utterly charmed with it and would’ve likely enjoyed the novel more.

I’m not actually criticizing the last 46% of the book (most of it, anyway)—this is just a rabbit trail of a thought I had while reading this. That 46% results in a perfectly satisfying that I’m recommending, I’m just saying.

Now to try to turn this from an inadvertent criticism to something positive. I was interested in Reeni and her story and I was enjoying trying to figure out what was going on. But it was the moment that Reeni first started working with her students, connecting with them in a way that her employer didn’t see was possible that I got invested in this novel. I started caring about Reeni and her students then. Yes, the rest of the book was exciting, had magic flying about, secrets were revealed, and Big Things happened, etc. But the whole time, the back of my mind was asking—but what about the next week of lessons? When do we get back to that?

So, what did I think about Klone’s Stronghold?
I really could’ve focused on so many things here, Klone’s Stronghold is a target-rich environment for someone looking for things to write about. There’s Reeni’s attempts to escape her bad marriage, and worse husband. There’s her family’s reactions to her divorce (it’s eventually explained, but it makes it worse). There’s a twisting of religion. There’s something to explore with her great friends—new and old. You could go on and on about the supernatural species (or whatever you want to call them). But for various and sundry reasons I have to move on. Also, this could end up being 40 pages long if I let myself. You want a novel to inspire all kinds of rabbit trails for you to follow while reading? Look no further.
 
There are a couple of moments in the latter half of the book that I’m not sure we needed. Or at least we didn’t need all that Reynolds-Ward gave us. It’s tricky to talk about without spoiling—but it’s in the parts where Reeni is helped to understand what she learns about her background and family. Most of this section is really well done—and it’s all interesting. But parts of this take up a whole lot more space than I think they needed to—it dragged the story down, and didn’t illuminate much. With some trimming I wouldn’t have said anything at all.
 
Other than that, I found the pacing really well done—there’s a lot that Reeni goes through here—and the rate at which she experienced it and had to figure out how to deal with all she goes through was really well done—not just for Reeni, but for the reader.
 
There are so many scenes that make you stop and bask in them. Reynolds-Ward puts you in this world, and even when you’re trying to figure out exactly what’s happening because (for example) you haven’t worked out all the various kinds of supernatural beings there are—you can see and understand enough that it doesn’t matter.
 
I know that this wasn’t intended to be a series (or at least it didn’t become one)—and I don’t want to complain about a stand-alone (phew! Plotlines I don’t have to remember for books on end! I’m not signing up for a multi-year commitment!). But boy howdy, do I wish I could spend more time in this world. The general store (or whatever it should be called) and its owners along with the Stronghold and those that live there have all the makings of a setting you want to return to—even the band would be great to spend more time with.
 
That said, this was a very satisfying story that absolutely doesn’t end anywhere near where you think it will after the first couple of chapters. (which, incidentally makes it really hard to talk about).
 
I recommend this for people who want a very atypical fantasy (that brushes against SF, but not really) in a contemporary setting. Readers of Bledsoe’s Tufa novels might resonate with this. It’s a nice breath of fresh air. This is my first novel by Reynolds-Ward, but it won’t be my last (I’ve already got the next one picked out…and probably the one after that, too).
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England About? 

At some point in the future, scientists discover the ability to move between parallel dimensions, and even find a group of them capable of sustaining human life—and buy/license exclusive access to some of them with histories and developments similar to our own, but delayed somewhat, so that visitors from “our” world look advanced. And then you “sell” these universes to people who are looking for the ultimate getaway. 

Sure, sometimes you temporarily lose your memory when you travel to your new dimension. So you need to write everything you need to know in a book that you carry with you. But if things get bumpy in your entry, that book might catch on fire, removing a lot of your information—so it takes a bit to recover your memory. Which is what happens to John West when he wakes up in a version of medieval England. 

I know that Sanderson keeps saying that John West is inspired by Jason Bourne—but that suggests that he’s competent on multiple/several levels and that’s not John. He’s not even a Samantha Caine. He’s more like a Myfanwy Thomas. But for the sake of discussion, let’s go with Bourne okay? 

Imagine Bourne wakes up in Terry Brooks’ Landover, and tries to pull off a Hank Morgan-con to convince the locals that he’s a wizard with great power. Throw in a little bit of Wizard in Rhyme‘s mixing of math/quantum physics into fantasy and a Douglas Adams-ish book-within-the-book (heavy on the “ish”) and you’ve got this book. 

Oh, and mobsters from his time are wandering around, as is at least one undercover policeman. And they all know John West—and he’s not on anyone’s good side. 

So, what did I think about The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England? 

I recognize—and want to remind everyone—that this is a completely subjective thing, and if I’d read this two months ago or two months from now, I’d react differently. But…this was good. Not great. Certainly not bad. Good—but somehow underwhelming. 

But I couldn’t shake the feeling the whole time that I should be enjoying it more than I was. I like the tone (although it felt like Sanderson was holding back and wouldn’t let this get as funny, snarky, or whatever as it should’ve been). I love the premise, the characters, the twists, etc., etc., etc. But…it felt restrained? Like he’s trying to assure everyone that no matter what he’s still Brandon Sanderson—he’s not going full-comedy (or whatever). I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d put this out under a pen name if he’d been able to let loose a bit more. If Scalzi, Cline, or Meyer had done this? Absolutely would’ve worked. 

It’s been bugging me for days—I absolutely should’ve been raving about this, or at least enthusiastically talking about it. But I’m not. There’s utterly nothing I can point to that explains it, either. All the elements are there for the kind of book that I love, and they were combined to just become something that I liked. Explain that one, Gestalt. 

I absolutely recommend this—and think that many readers will find it as enjoyable as I thought I should. And even if you walk away with the same whelmed-level as I did, you’ll have had a good time. But I’m not sure you should rush to it.