theirresponsiblereader's Reviews (607)

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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“The Back of the Book” 

I’m pretty sure I’d end up ruining something if I tried to summarize this myself, so let’s use the description from the Publisher’s site: 

 
The World Building
This is a terrifying look at an entirely possible not-that-future world for us. I’m not going to get into the details, but this is an England (and we can assume the rest of the world is a lot like it) devastated by pollution, climate change, and humans messing around with genetics and other experimental medicine.

The effects of all that are seen in nature—flora and fauna—and in the health of just about everyone in the novel.

Some things never change, however, those with money—or a way to get it—have a better shot at whatever slim advantages there are to be had.

And Hardaker absolutely sells this world—the choices she made in constructing, depicting, and revealing the details of this world were perfect. I cannot say enough for the setting and the way she showed it.

So, what did I think about Composite Creatures?
Sadly, the world that Hardaker portrayed was the only part of this book that resonated with me.
 
I was pretty sure of two things within the first 50 pages (less than that, but I wasn’t keeping score):
 

This wasn’t a case of me disliking it—it was too good for that. But I just didn’t care, I wasn’t invested—I never got more than mildly curious. If I’d been forced to return this to the library before I finished, I don’t know that I’d have bothered to check it out again. I did keep waiting for that moment—the one that changed everything and made the whole thing worthwhile—and it didn’t come.
 
I’m giving this 3 stars—the writing/worldview/etc. deserves at least 4, but my experience was a big ol’ “meh” and probably would’ve gotten a 2 if a lesser writer had been responsible for it. So we’ll average the two.
 
Now, I think I’m the exception—Hardaker’s a great writer and this combination of too-likely dystopia and environmental collapse is the kind of thing that I can see a lot of people really getting into. I’d recommend you do. When Paul recommended Composite Creatures to me, he said something like he couldn’t stop thinking about it—I don’t blame him, it’s going to be a long time before I stop thinking about it. Incidentally, you should read Paul’s post about the novel for a different and very positive take.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Hell of a Mess About?

Well, isn’t that a tricky question? There is too much. Let me sum up. There are multiple people who start off intending to commit one crime and end up doing something entirely different.

Fiona’s been hired to steal something, and it’s a timely thing (and she’s not deterred by much), so despite an impending hurricane, she goes for it. Sure, the Inside Man tries to wave her off, but, again—she’s not deterred by much. Which is a shame—she should’ve paid attention to either the weather or the Inside Man. She ends up with a price on her head and multiple people around the city.

While she’s busy, Bill’s trying to prep for the storm in the home they’re squatting in when some police break in looking for the man who lives there. One thing leads to another, and they kidnap Bill, believing he can lead them to the millions his former employer had hidden away.

Thankfully. that assassin they thought Fiona killed at the end of A Brutal Bunch of Heartbroken Saps survived—readers knew that, but Fiona and Bill didn’t. Not only did he live, but he’s been keeping tabs on them. He’s been trying to live a different—less lethal—life and he has a chance to help them. Will he be enough?

Up to the point where it looked like Fiona killed him (maybe a little sooner), I thought that the hitman who was sent after Bill in the first book was the protagonist. His is the only first-person perspective we get through the series—almost like he’s relaying what he knows and hears about this crazy couple while he’s dealing with his own problems like they’re a diversion for him.

His personal arc is very different from theirs—they claim to be trying to get out and live a straight life, if only they get one more decent score to set them up. The unnamed assassin is going a different path, he’s still a violent criminal, but like Jules Winnfield, he’s looking for something more. There are lines he won’t cross anymore (he seems to be making those rules up on the fly, but at least he has them.

As you can probably tell, I find it difficult to articulate his development and role in the series—but using him (sparingly, on the whole) and his arc throughout in juxtaposition to Fiona and Bill adds a layer to these books that few authors would have utilized, but make the whole thing better.

Be sure to check out my Q&A with Kolakowski (posting later today) for more about him.

The thing that really kicks off the Fiona storyline is her stumbling across something she wasn’t expecting while discovering the thing she came to steal wasn’t there. Her discovery of the other nefarious action—and the way she prevented it from being completed*—is what starts the manhunt for her, more than the attempted heist. If she’d just walked away, I think it’s likely no one would’ve come after her.

Then when it comes time for Fiona to go save Bill, that storyline is dropped. Which is actually fine and good, because ultimately what it’s replaced by is more interesting. But in the back of my mind couldn’t stop asking—and, a week later, still can’t—what happened? What led up to Fiona’s discovery? What happened after she and the unnamed killer ran off to rescue Bill?

Typically, leaving these threads hanging would annoy me enough that I’d downgrade a novel over it—but Kolakowski pulls it off. If you’re going to abandon a plotline, this is the way to do it.

That said, I’d pony up twice the typical Shotgun Honey novella price today to get Love & Bullets #5 if it picks up right after this to tell the rest of that story. Maybe thrice.

The previous three installments were novellas, but this is a novel, clocking in at 50-100 pages longer than the rest. And it didn’t feel like it at all. It was the same adrenaline-fueled, not-quite-frenzied pace and was over before I was ready for it to be. My daily schedule kept this from being a one-sitting read, but I think I could’ve done it in one sitting without realizing it.

This is pulpy fun. There’s action, there’s heart, there’s comedy (some subtle, some absolutely not), there’s a lot of violence, and you can’t forget the bunch of heartbroken saps that are at the center of things. They’re crooks and killers that really seem like decent people when you stack them up next to the nastier crooks and killers they can’t stop encountering. In the middle of all that chaos (and you can’t forget the chaos of the storm), there’s hope, forgiveness, and love. And who can’t use a little of that?

I don’t know if Kolakowski is going to come back to these characters in the future—I’d be content with what he’s given already, but I also know that I’d jump on any future installments, too. I encourage you to do the same.

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

Acquaintance and father of one of Lucy’s best friends, Butch Roberson, is in trouble—he’s been being harassed by some EPA agents and they’ve turned up dead. Joe was the last person to see him before he became a prime suspect in their murder and a subject of a manhunt. Which, in the perverse way that only bureaucrats can think, gets him in hot water. 

Joe’s now tasked with helping some contractors track Butch through the wilderness—he really doesn’t want to do it, and almost quits over it. But the way these guys are acting, Joe figures that he’s the only one who can ensure that Butch is brought in alive and with a shot at a fair trial (especially if he can get him into local custody). 

Joe’s been in hazardous wilderness conditions before—regularly, from the reader’s point of view—but I think it’s safe to say that these are the most dangerous he’s been in. And the humans (officially and unofficially) hunting for Butch are just making things worse. 

Meanwhile, Marybeth is doing a little investigative work on the side for Joe while helping Butch’s wife and daughter through this time. She even sends up a flare hoping to get some help from Nate Romanowski. 

There’s a whole lot of moving pieces in this novel, and hopefully, the Picketts and Robersons come out of things alive. 

Federal Agencies 

Outside of some FBI Agents (maybe only one), people who work for the Federal Government don’t come across well in these books. And Breaking Point is no exception.
 

I don’t know—and really don’t care—how much of Box’s own politics are reflected in these books, but he does a great job of portraying the attitudes of people in Wyoming and Idaho (not that he does a lot of Idaho work, but there’s some). Federal Agents are inherently suspect and will wield their power to damage the way of life of citizens. Sure, there are exceptions, but on the whole, you can’t trust them to do the right thing. 

It’s never comfortable reading these depictions of the Federal Government, but if nothing else, it’s good to be reminded of/exposed to the way hunters/ranchers/etc.out here think of them—and why they do. 

The Sub-plots 

The new head of Game and Fish, Lisa Greene-Dempsey (LGD) is a more interesting foil for Joe than the previous officious penny-pinchers. She’s trying to reshape the Agency in a way that Joe’s not comfortable with, and she’s clearly playing politics with him/his job. But the way she’s going about it—with good intentions, I think—makes her a better character and gives us more interesting reactions from Joe. It’s always better to have competing good intentions than having one side just out to hurt the other/improve themself alone. The whole arc there is one of the best Joe vs. The System stories Box has given us. 

I don’t get the Marybeth story, it fizzled on all fronts for me. If it’s to underline the financial hardships the family has gone through, he’s done it more effectively before. If it’s laying the groundwork for something else, on the other hand, great—but I want to see it soon. Generally, Marybeth’s stories are a highlight of these novels but this one fell flat for me. 

While Sheridan had a pivotal part to play here, it sort of seems to me that Box doesn’t know what to do with her anymore (ditto for her sisters, but Sheridan’s always shown the brightest among them, so it seems worse). I really hope he does something interesting with her soon, I’m not sure how long I’d have stuck with the series if not for her early on, and I don’t want to not enjoy her in the future. 

That Death… 

There’s a significant character death that shocked me—both in the manner, the function in the story, and the fact that it happened at all. Box treated the whole thing perfectly. 

I’m not going to get into details, but it was a smart, gutsy move. 

How’s the Narration? 

Chandler has the characterizations down pat—every time he says something as McLanahan (and how great is it to see how things went for him between Force of Nature and this book?) I want to punch the guy in his nose. Which is more violent than I typically get, but that voice is perfectly grating—a wonderful match for McLanahan’s personality. 

He’s great even when he doesn’t irritate me—Chandler has brought this series to life, and continues that work here. Really don’t have much else to say. 

So, what did I think about Breaking Point? 

There’s a great call-back to Savage Run, reminding the reader just how far Joe’s come, and some of the things he’s pulled off in his career. 

Box delivers a great thriller here, as we’re used to—with some important character work for Joe—including a move that’ll change his professional life forever. 

It’s the thirteenth book in a series, and it’s really difficult to come up with something to say. The storytelling isn’t getting stale, the characters are developing nicely, the premise of the novel rings true, and Box executes it well. It’s an incredibly consistent series, really—not getting much better (nor does it need to), it’s definitely not getting worse. 

There’s not much more to say—if you’ve liked most of the previous twelve novels (like I have), you’ll like this one. If you’re intrigued by the idea of a Game Warden getting involved in criminal investigations while dealing with wilderness adventures, you’ll likely enjoy this one, even without the backstory. 

Box knows what he’s doing at this point, and even with my quibbles, I figure he’s going to do something in the future to remove them. Give this one a try. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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“The Back of the Book” 

(from the author’s website) 

 
I Admit to Some Apprehension
I used this heading last time, and it fits here, too. Maybe “a lot of” would have been better than “some.”

Police protagonists becoming the prime suspect almost never works for me—any protagonist/close associate of the protagonist as the prime suspect, really, but it works less when it’s a cop for me. The stakes are so low there—you know they’re going to be proven innocent the instant you read that in the description, and a lot of the drama associated with their being suspected is going to feel contrived. The fact that it’s her former deputy (and I’m so glad to be done with him!) made it even harder for me to swallow.

When you add to that the “campaign calculated to destroy reputation, career,” yada yada, I’m really disinclined to dive in. You’re not going to find a supervillain waging a campaign against a local sheriff in that part of the world. But that’s all due to whoever wrote the promotional material, because “sick and devious campaign” sounds better than “bitter jackwagon out to smear her reputation” (which is what was really going on, nothing as organized as a campaign suggests).

But, I’m a completionist, I was curious, and Leigh’s earned a little trust (if nothing else from the way she dealt with the last thing I was apprehensive about), so I read this. And I’m so glad I did: the “campaign” was what I described—making it more believable, more insidious, more relevant, and with actual stakes—and if you’re going to make your protagonist someone suspect, both the author and character need to deal with it the way Leigh and Bree do.

Mostly, I need to stop reading the jacket-copy of these books.

Chief Deputy Todd Harvey
I’ve felt this way since book 2 and have stated it when I read 3 and 4—Leigh wasn’t giving Chief Deputy Todd Harvey enough to do. Now, here in book 5, she’s given him two—count ’em, two—storylines. I grant you, the more important one (in terms of this novel) isn’t really what you want to see happen to a character you like—but the execution was great (and it helped with one of the storylines I was nervous about above).

And the one that was less important for this novel is going to stick around for at least a little while, and gives the foundation for more to come—and it shows that Leigh’s thinking of doing things with Todd in the books to come.

Phew.

So, what did I think about Dead Against Her?
This was probably the best of the series so far—it tied up a couple of longer-term stories, pushed some others along in ways that were necessary, and gave us some really good character moments overall.

The case at the center of this was handled really well, too—I liked the way it came together and faked the reader out in just the right way. The mix of local politics, local media, and police work felt genuine and like something that could/would actually happen.

Dead Against Her was an entertaining and satisfying read and made sure that I’m sticking around with this series for a while to come. You should jump on board, I have a feeling it’s going to be around for a bit.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Chet the Narrator 

For roughly a decade now, Chet has been my favorite first-person narrator (at least among those being currently published). This K-9 school dropout is an engaging and personable narrator who will get the reader emotionally invested and charm you within the first few pages after you meet him. He’s optimistic, generally positive, and his unique perspective will make you chuckle frequently while you read a solid P.I. story. 

At the same time, there’s an extra level of attention that needs to be paid to what he says so you can pick up what’s actually going on—Chet’s the best kind of unreliable narrator, he’s not being deceptive, he just doesn’t (and can’t) understand what he’s seeing and hearing. But he’s honest and thorough. 

So, what I’m saying is, there’s little chance I’m not going to thoroughly enjoy a new Chet and Bernie novel. So going in, expect me to say nice things. 

What’s Bark to the Future About? 

Bernie’s approached by a panhandler while stopped at a light on a freeway off-ramp, who recognizes Bernie from high school and refuses to take his money. Life’s been harder on him than Bernie, who can’t recognize him at all. Bernie takes him for a burger, and tries to help him out a little—by this time, he’s identified himself. He’s an old baseball teammate, and the two shared a highlight or two of their careers. After their meal, Rocket Saluka has Bernie drop him off on the off-ramp. 

But he’d said a thing or two that Bernie can’t stop thinking about, so he goes back the next morning to follow up. Rocket’s nowhere to be found, but someone else directs Bernie to a camp Rocket was staying at. He’s not there, either—and there’s almost no trace of him. Chet does find his distinctive switchblade buried under Rocket’s tent, however—and now Bernie’s even more curious, and he sets out to find his old teammate. 

It turns out that there’s quite the history attached to this switchblade, and most of it was shared by other people who were associated with their high school (including one person Bernie knows but didn’t realize was from the same school). What starts off as a way to deal with some unnecessary guilt becomes a hunt for someone responsible for at least one murder—and hopefully, Rocket. 

Weatherly and Trixie 

I was a fan of Suzie Sanchez and didn’t like it at all when that relationship fell apart, and I wished for more time with the doctor Bernie dated. But now that Quinn has brought Weatherly into the series, I’m glad that things between them and Bernie ended. 

Weatherly’s a great addition to the series period—someone in law enforcement that Bernie can talk shop with (who isn’t a former colleague) and who can pitch in when Bernie needs backup. And their romantic relationship is better than Bernie’s had before—there’s a trust, an honesty that was missing with Suzie. 

Bernie’s learned from his past mistakes and is making sure that he doesn’t make them again. It’s great to see. 

I do feel back for Weatherly’s dog Trixie, Chet’s a jealous boy (we are learning), and he’s not doing well with a female counterpart with similar strengths (maybe stronger in a couple of ways than Chet). Yes, she scores a few wins over our narrator, but his feelings toward her color what we’re told about her, and she doesn’t come out looking so good. 

We’ve seen something like this with Shooter, Chet’s son. But it’s a little different with Shooter because there’s a somewhat paternal aspect to Chet’s description of him. 

We know that Chet can get along with other dogs—but the extended time with Trixie is showing us another side of his personality. You wouldn’t think you’d get that in a dog character, but it’s good to see that Quinn can give us that. 

Bernie’s Notoriety 

As he’s visiting fellow alumni and other people associated with the case, several people mention how they’d read/seen something about him because of the events of Of Mutts and Men (although one harkened back to Heart of Barkness. I’m glad that there are people out there who know that Bernie Little is out there, doing good work. Most of the time in PI fiction, you get the idea that outside of those close to a case, no one notices that the PI we’re so heavily invested in does anything of note. 

But what’s better to me is that Bernie’s getting recognition for this case—one of the first things we learn about him 12 books ago is that he has very definite opinions about water usage and the local aquifer. From Chet, we get some ideas about other things that Bernie cares about, but from his own mouth, we know that he cares about Charlie, Chet, and water (and now, Weatherly). Of all the cases for him to get good PR for, this is the one that’s going to mean something to Bernie. 

So, what did I think about Bark to the Future? 

Not surprisingly, I liked it. I really did. We get a little character backstory here, we see Bernie as a good father (and a fumbling one), we see development in his relationship with Weatherly, we see the potential for a (small) income stream for Bernie outside the PI business, and there’s an intriguing mystery or two for our heroes to dig their teeth into (literally, for Chet). 

Starting with Of Mutts and Men that Quinn’s found another gear. I can’t put my finger on it—I wish I could—but there’s something about the novels that have stepped up a notch or two. The series is always reliable, but these last few have been better than some of the previous. Bark to the Future continues that streak. 

I heartily recommend this to you—if you haven’t tried one from this series before, don’t worry—they’re all good entry points. Jump in now, you’ll be glad you did. 

Much like Chet and a Slim Jim, I’ve gulped this one down and am ready for my next one. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s On Eden Street About? 

Sure, in Songbird we got a glimmer of what to expect from DCI Cara Freeman’s Murder Squad, but this book opens on the first day with the entire team in their office. They expect to get to know each other, spend some time chatting, hear something from Freeman and their new DI about how things are going to go for them—but that doesn’t happen. Before they can much further than hearing everyone’s name, they’re called to investigate a murder. A homeless man’s body has been discovered blocking the entrance to a restaurant downtown. 

Instead of through awkward conversations, this squad gets to know each other by seeing them at work—canvassing for witnesses, looking for security cameras, dealing with the officers on-scene, and so on. 

They will eventually uncover a connection to a previous case the King’s Lake Central detectives worked on—and encounter a witness that DS Chris Waters encountered in yet another case. 

But mostly what they’ll learn is that nothing in this case—nothing—is what it seems. From a blind woman having to “rescue” the detectives from a dog guarding the body, to the identity of the victim, to how easily things can go astray when a helpful and efficient office worker does their job just a little too well…this new squad is going to get off to a very bumpy start. 

The Murder Squad 

Oh…I really like this new group. There are a bunch of new characters brought in here and we don’t get to spend enough time with them. But I appreciated what time we got with them—I think going forward this is going to be a group of characters I really enjoy—more than the King’s Lake detective squad and the petty rivalries (although those rivalries aren’t gone as is clear in the beginning of this book). 

We get to know DCI Cara Freeman better as we spend more time with her—and as Chris gets to work with/evaluate her more. I’m seriously enjoying her. 

There’s one new character (name withheld to prevent spoilers/lack thereof) in particular that we get less of than the rest. I think it was purposeful, and I can’t wait to see why that character is on board and what Grainger is going to eventually do with her. I trust that all will be revealed, and I’m super curious. 

But the best new addition is the new Detective Inspector. Over the last handful of years, I’ve met a lot of fictional DIs, and I don’t think I’ve met one like DI Green. We don’t get to know him incredibly well or anything, we don’t know what makes him tick yet. But the ticking is a lot of fun to watch. 

This is primarily Chris Waters’ series now, however, and we spend the most time with him—and I couldn’t be happier with that. It’s great to watch him develop as a detective and as a person. It’s similar to the evolution of Eve Ronin—this isn’t about the investigations of a seasoned pro, it’s about watching a promising young detective fulfill that promise. 

Shadow of D.C. 

I’m not sure at this stage of the series who’s having a harder time letting go of DC Smith—the detectives of King’s Lake, the readers, or Grainger. 

I liked the way that DC himself appeared in this novel—it felt very natural. And, of course, Chris is going to think about his mentor a lot, as are old colleagues. But it just felt like we got too much about him overall. Too many callbacks, references to other cases, etc. But if you ran down a list of each reference/appearance of Smith in this book, and asked if they should be cut individually, I’d say no to each one—they fit, helped moved things along, served the character and moment…but the cumulative weight of them was too much. 

Does that make sense? Any Grainger fans out there have some input for me? 

Gildart Jackson’s Work 

I don’t have anything new to say about Jackson at this point. I thoroughly enjoy his work, I can’t imagine listening to one of this series with anyone else, nor do I think I’d enjoy reading one on my own half as much. 

So, what did I think about On Eden Street? 

Grainger had a healthy agenda going into this: introduce and begin to establish several new characters, help the existing characters settle into new roles, help us get a better handle on Freeman (who is both new and established at this point), touch base with DC, start a new personal arc for Chris, and, in between all that, tell a good story about a murder investigation. And he succeeds so well on all fronts. 

Long-time readers/listeners of this series are used to the way that Grainger will give a resolution/solution to the investigation that will fly against expectations—both of the detectives at the beginning of the book and most of what Police Procedural fans expect to see. It’s largely a given for this series. But to start with a dead homeless veteran as this opens and to end where we do? Nope. No way did anyone see >98% of this coming. 

But by the time the book closes, there is simply no other way for things to have gone. Grainger’s at the top of his game here, and it’s to be celebrated. My friends and/or readers—please take my advice and start reading these books, you don’t know what you’re missing. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Ghost of a Chance About?
Despite the success of the events of In Plain Sight, he’s barely scraping by. The financial straits that put Alex into these less-than-savory surroundings are threatening Alex’s agency. It doesn’t seem like this is a new situation for him—but it might be worse this time than usual.

He gets the chance to make some good money when one of the more powerful sorcerers in the city hires him to find a stolen invention of his that will both enrich the sorcerer and make life better for the residents of NYC. While he’s looking for that, Alex is approached by a young woman whose husband has seemingly been kidnapped. Neither of these searches should be that difficult for him, but something is preventing his runes from working—so he has to approach these hunts using his mind, not his magic.

And because that’s not quite enough on his plate, Alex is also hired by a woman to find out who killed her husband—there’s been a series of murders that are making headlines. People are being killed by someone who leaves no trace—not only that, the victims have been found in locked rooms, with no exits.

As if that’s not enough, Alex is dealing with the damage he did to his own health (and, seemingly, his lifespan) from when he rescued the city months earlier. Basically, Alex has a ghost of a chance to make it out of these next few days intact and successful.

So, what did I think about Ghost of a Chance?

The year’s a little more than half over, and I’ve read a decent number of locked room mysteries so far—I can’t help but wonder if I have more headed my way before 2022 is out. This one held its own with the others I’ve read this year, sure, this one involved the use of magic, so it’s a little easier. I did like that magic was utilized in a way that neither Iggy, Alex, or anyone who reads a newspaper in New York had apparently thought of before—so it was a little easier to pull off both the killings and the escape. So it’s a little different than what, say, M.W. Craven gave us.
 
I couldn’t help but notice how structurally similar this was to In Plain Sight—three cases that don’t seem to have anything to do with each other, one of which involves the police threatening Alex if he doesn’t succeed. The two novels don’t follow the same outline, but the similarities stand out. But those are thoughts that came to me after I finished—while I was reading, all I thought was that I was having a really good time. It’s when I start having those thoughts while I’m reading that I think we’re headed for trouble.
 
I really appreciate what Willis has done here—the world feels pretty established and lived in already. The primary characters are pretty well-fleshed out at this point (which isn’t to say we can’t learn more about them) and I’m ready to see more of the magic systems at work. There is a seemingly effortless charm to these books. I was entertained throughout and kept wondering why it’d taken me so long to return to this series—I don’t intend to repeat that.
 

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

The TIO is called to the Human Territory to look into a financial crime of all things—the theory is that people in dire financial straits are being killed so that their debts are canceled, then being brought back by a necromancer. Beyond the significant losses the major bank that called in the TIO is suffering (and possibly other financial institutions who don’t realize it’s going on are losing, too), there are several other legal and ethical repercussions to this. 

But primarily, there’s likely an active necromancer and that’s what Ketayl and Silver are supposed to be focusing on. So they’re dispatched to deal with this, and it’s not long before Ketayl’s analysis suggests that there are multiple actors involved—perhaps that they’re dealing with two separate criminal rings committing similar swindles. 

Just what on Terra is going on here? 

This is the first time Ketayl’s been back in the field since Conjured Defense, and she’s not quite back in fighting shape—and her partnership with Silver is in the worst state it’s ever been. Can she repair that (assuming she wants to) and put a stop to the fraud—and hopefully a necromancer? 

Silver 

I found myself thinking about Silver more than usual after I finished this book. And not just because I’m getting sick and tired of him inching up to telling Ketayl how he feels before he retreats again. 

One of the reasons these two were teamed up was the way their magic worked together—they could tackle adversaries like this necromancer together. But it really seems like they’ve got into this pattern of Ketayl pushing herself to the limit, and Silver trying to get her to relax—then she lets loose and goes past the limit–only to have him patch her up magically and emotionally. 

And honestly, it works—I’m really enjoying watching Ketayl finding hew levels of her power, new things to do with it, and so on. So this isn’t me griping, it’s just I don’t see the justification for their partnership holding up. 

Now, there’s a depth to his backstory we see a glimpse of in this book—and there’s a setup for a future book or two in there. I don’t know when we get it—hopefully soon, because I know there’s more to our Paladin than we’ve been given so far, and I’m ready to see it. 

So, what did I think about Mortgaged Mortality? 

I thought the crime(s) at the center of this was a pretty clever application of magic to this world—-it’s precisely the kind of thing an innovative crook with sufficient power would do. I wondered about some of the details, but that’s probably my head for finance. The hunt for the necromancer and allies was great—and one of the better investigations this team has been on. 

We got the return of Lexi from Twice Cursed, which was nice to see—it’s probably my favorite installment so far in the series, so that was doubly-nice. The new agents we meet—particularly the grizzled veteran—were exactly what this book needed and I’d be happy to see either of them again. 

The final confrontation against the necromancer was one of Jackson’s best—giving Ketayl the perfect mix of innovation, recklessness, and power that makes these scenes work for the series. I thought the aftermath took a little too long in the moment, but it was all worth it in the end. 

Basically, this was another strong entry in this reliably entertaining series. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Prince of Infinite Space About? 

Kirby Russo, a “troubled youth” from Montana has been at the Haverford Military Institute in North Dakota just long enough to start to change his behavior and think about things in a different light—but not so long that he’s totally bought into the system. He’s still largely an outsider—and likes it that way. 

He’s assuming that he’ll have a leadership position in the school newspaper—his one real passion—at the beginning of his Senior Year. When that doesn’t happen, he (unlike the reader, who can see it coming from the moment he starts talking about it) goes off the deep end. All the progress he’s made, all the evolution he’s been going through is out the window, and his demeanor, attitude, and focus shifts. He just doesn’t have anywhere to shift it to, so he spends the first few months of the year completely aimless. 

The closest thing he has to a goal comes from a picture he saw in a Chicago newspaper. His long-lost love is shown (under an assumed name) in a homeless camp. He starts to fantasize about reuniting with her—but how can he get to Chicago? 

Then his Original Biological Contributor shows up unannounced. He’s never met his father, and has heard little good about him over his life. But when his father introduces himself to Kirby and asks to take him to meet his dying grandmother outside of Chicago, Kirby seizes the opportunity. 

He can escape the Institute, learn something about his father, and get close enough to Chicago that he can probably find a way to the city. 

It ain’t much, but it’s a plan. 

Time Period 

It’s a little disconcerting reading something that’s probably considered Historical Fiction set during the protagonist’s Senior Year in high school when you share the same Senior Year. Outside the discussion of Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait and the U.S. response, there’s not a lot of references to people and events of 1990. I’m fine with that—we don’t need an Ernest Cline-level of name-dropping to establish the setting. 

I’m not convinced that Cromley’s 1990 matches up with reality that well. If Kirby’s world was looking at the 2003 invasion of Iraq, I probably wouldn’t have blinked. But the attitudes that Kirby encounters—in particular on the streets of Chicago—seem to fit the early 2000s more than the early 1990s. 

So, what did I think about The Prince of Infinite Space? 

The writing really sang (after a heavy-handed first sentence)—I chuckled a lot, and the descriptions were fantastic and real. His depcition of Chicaco alone made this worth the read. Cromley hits all the emotions and the big moments just right. The novel moved along quickly (possibly too quickly), and you get taken along with the characters effortlessly. Kirby’s a wonderfully flawed character—he’s a self-absorbed, petulant, immature twit. But he’s at the time of life where he’s supposed to be one, so that’s a win. 

But unlike many of those characters, you get drawn into his character. You like him just enough, get invested in him enough that you want to see him mature, you want to see the coming-of-age in action. You don’t just want to write him off and go read about someone else. 

This feels like the bones of a good novel—there’s not enough meat on it. Or, to change the metaphor, it’s like a chili that you serve too quickly, without letting the flavors develop while simmering a decent amount of time. There’s a compliment here—I liked it, I just wanted it to be better, I wanted more of everything. 

This is a sequel to The Last Good Halloween, which probably tells about the delinquency (perceived or real) that sent Kirby to the Haverford Military Institute. It’s utterly unnecessary to read before this, but I’d imagine those who had read it will be a bit more satisfied after seeing what happens to Kirby.