theirresponsiblereader's Reviews (607)

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

DI Ava Harris continues her work outside her specialty and keeps proving she’s pretty good at it—the book opens with a great action sequence as she leads a team on a raid. 

After that, Harris is taken to what looks like a lab—a lab (or an art installation?) full of many well-preserved dead bodies (partial or intact). It’s disturbing for her and the rest of the police (and the poor teen who found it)—it’s disturbing for the listener, too. Once again, Harris and her detectives are on the hunt for a possible serial killer. 

It takes a lot of time and effort for the detectives to find a common link between the victims that will hopefully lead them to a suspect. But once they come up with a theory, it indicates that there are more victims to be found—possibly still living. The pressure, which had been strong already because of the number of bodies, becomes even stronger—they have lives to save. 

Paging Aldous Leekie 

20/20 introduced us to a quasi-religious group, with some shades of medical science that’s a little beyond what’s actually possible right now. Eva is concerned another one of their members is involved in this case as well. 

She’s not wrong, but she’s not quite right, her investigation leads to her coming across several people who’ve taken their medical research even further. There’s a strong vein of transhumanism running throughout this novel, adding a flavor to this that you don’t get in Police Procedurals. 

We’re not quite talking Cyberpunk-level weirdness. This is about halfway between where we are now and Johnny Mnemonic/Mirrorshades. 

There’s some more thoughtful, serious, “how can we battle diseases in new ways” types of science involved, but there are also some more frivolous (for a lack of a better term) uses of this science, too. There are a couple of scenes in a nightclub that feel like they’re straight from the Orphan Black Season 1 episodes with the Neolution club full of body modifications. 

I love that Goodman’s able to take a pretty solid police procedural and mix this in so that the books become more than what they are (although, honestly, I’m betting they’d be worth the time without it)—you get something to think about, react to—maybe even research—in addition to the mystery. 

My Inner Prude* 

* This is an observation/description, not evaluative. I know I have a number of readers who’d want to know this before grabbing the book (and a number who don’t care, too). 

There are a few scenes in this that don’t bring out my Inner Prude—but keep it bubbling right below the surface. Thankfully, Eva’s inner prude is pretty loud, too, so she keeps herself at arm’s length from those situations—well, maybe a cubit’s length anyway. 

There’s also a scene of assault that’s going to be too much for many—and almost me—but it’s brief and easily skippable. It will be referred to later, but without details. 

A Strange Rabbit Trail 

Maybe because the same person recommended the two series to me, maybe because there’s a level of reflection on things beyond the case that are common between the two series, but at some point, I asked myself, “What would (Peter Grainger’s) DC Smith think of this case? How would he tackle this?” 

I had to stop the audio and ponder this for a while—I think Eva wouldn’t be that great at any of his cases (although she might be quicker to move on some suspects), but DC dealing with the transhumanism angle is a little thought experiment that’s going to linger with me. 

And very likely only me. So I won’t bore you with any of my thoughts. I just had to mention it. 

How’s the Narration? 

I’m going to largely just copy what I said before: Brealey nailed this—she captures Harris’ analytical approach, the distance she’s keeping from her team and the assignment—and then how that distance crumbles—and general unease with some aspects of the assignment. She also does a great job portraying the rest of the cast, and the unexpected attitudes from some of the suspects. 

I don’t know if I can separate my appreciation of Brealey’s work from Goodman’s, and don’t really see the point in trying. In my mind, they’re a package deal and should stay that way. 

So, what did I think about Lifesign? 

This is a pretty gripping read—and as I said, there’s more to it than just the thriller/procedural. As I said before, it’s a great combination and one that I want more of (assuming they’re done as well as Goodman does it) 

The key to the enjoyment of both of these books is Eva Harris. She’s this great combination of confidence and doubt; conviction and (hidden) rage; skill and dumb luck. Also, I love seeing her struggle with enforcing the law and seeking justice, while dealing with her instinct of circumventing the law in order to achieve the right result. She’s not the first or only police protagonist to balance these things, but the way Goodman pursues it is what is going to keep me coming back as long as he produces them. Think Fiona Cummings with a different group of psychological issues and without the casual drug use, and you’re most of the way to understanding Eva. 

I’m hooked, if there’s a third installment in this series, I’ll be there with bells on. In the meantime, if you have the means, I strongly suggest you give this a shot. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Right Behind Her About? 

Since Bree has moved back, her brother Adam has been trying to get her to go visit their childhood home with him. It’s important for him to reconnect with her there, to get her help understanding the place where their father murdered their mother and then killed himself—he was too young to remember anything. He thinks it’ll be good for her, too. Bree has put it off for months, but as the novel opens, they’re finally there. 

She’s able to show Adam around a little before things get too overwhelming for her—as they start to leave they stumble on someone squatting in their old barn. There’s an altercation, and in the aftermath, one of Bree’s deputies stumbles upon some human remains that had been buried in a shallow grave. 

It’s a lot to ask of a novel’s first twenty pages—significantly advance a story arc and introduce the instigating event for a police procedural. All without cutting to a song by The Who (although one, or the NCIS/Castle instrumental themes, would have worked well at the close of Chapter 3). It’s the best opening in the series so far. 

Given the evidence around the bodies, the killings happened long enough ago that Bree’s father is a suspect—but there are others as well. Bree and Matt turn up a lot of old secrets and scandals in their hunt for the murderer. And many of those involve Bree’s family. 

Meanwhile, the County Supervisors are finally meeting with Bree about her budget—and it’s not going well. It doesn’t help that the squatter she arrested is the drug-addicted brother of one of the Supervisors directly involved. 

Basically, this is not going to be the easiest period of her new career as County Sherrif. 

I Admit to Some Apprehension 

Let me preface this by saying that I like the series, and that doesn’t change in this book. Still, I think the books could easily become over-dramatic. Leigh’s avoided that, but there’ve been a time or two that I worried she might not. However, when I read in the description: 

 
I will admit that I got nervous. This could easily have taken on the air of some sort of Lifetime movie or something. Her niece and nephew are great as part of Bree’s non-professional life—I really think things could get overwrought if they become part of the procedural.
 
It didn’t. Not even close. I breathed a big sigh of relief. I still think it’s a danger moving forward, but that’s for another day (or not).
 
So, what did I think about Right Behind Her?
This is easily the best of the series—in terms of writing, character, complexity of the case, and overall execution. While I’ve enjoyed them all, the second and third books made me wonder a bit if the series could live up to the expectations set by the first—I’m not that worried anymore.
 
There’ve been three storylines that have been going since the debut and I feared Leigh was going to stretch them out another 2+ books before really doing anything with them, and she made noticeable advancements in them all—actually, in every ongoing story, but those are the ones that were starting to chafe.
 
I still want a little more for Chief Deputy Todd Harvey. If Leigh had given us that in addition to all the rest? I’d probably be raving about this. I’m still recommending it heartily, but I’d be doing it with an exclamation point if she’d done something with Todd.
 
There’s some good sleuthing here, some great character moments, solid action, and even a little romance. If you like your police procedurals to have some heart, you’d do well to give these a try. I’m eager to see where Leigh takes these characters next, and I think you will be, too.
 

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

Ketayl and Silver are sent to a Naval research facility to investigate some sort of mishap. There’s a company, Spelltech, that’s trying to incorporate technology and magic into a defense system. Not just merging tech and magic (like Ketayl does in her TIO work), but it’s a merging of divine and arcane magics—just like Ketayl and Silver. 

They’re the ideal team to run this investigation—assuming they can get the cooperation of the Naval Command and Spelltech. The head of Spelltech seems eager to work with them, once he has a glimmer of an idea of what Ketayl can do—just the fact that Ketayl and Silver get along and can work together puts them ahead of any pair that they have to work with. 

It’s not long before Ketayl realizes that Spelltech assembled something without any real understanding of what was going on with it. She’s not so sure either, but she’s getting closer. This sets off a series of “near-misses” with cars as they move around the base—and then things get worse. 

So, what did I think about Conjured Defense? 

It was a solid story and it’s good to see Ketayl’s powers continue to grow. Ditto for the relationship between the two partners—although it sometimes feels more appropriate for a couple of high schoolers. But hey, they’re elves and will live a long time, maybe things take longer. 

Jackson’s action scenes are improving—there are a couple of great ones here. I re-read the first major action scene twice because it was so good (that’s not a comment on the ones I didn’t reread—I was too involved in the story to stop with those) 

There are a few bits of dialogue that frustrate me. Jackson obviously has a clear vision for what’s going on in her world and with ongoing arcs, but she’s not the best a communicating that. Ketayl has ongoing conversations with both her partner and her sister in which they allude to something without coming out and saying it—which is perfectly fine and normal. However, there needs to be something in or around those conversations that makes sure the reader can pick up on the allusion. Maybe I’m being dense, or maybe this is a continuation of something from a previous book that I’m forgetting (if that’s the case, it needs to be clarified in this book)—but I don’t think so. I think it’s a case of Jackson knows what the characters are talking about and doesn’t realize that readers don’t. 

As usual, that took a lot longer to say than the paragraph about the action scenes—and it means less to me than everything else. I like these characters and really enjoy exploring this world with them, I’ve got two more of these sitting on the shelf and am eager to dive in. Fast action, charming characters, and a great SF/Fantasy setting—what’s not to enjoy? Recommended. 

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

Back in book 3, Shrink Rap,* Sunny Randall helped protect best-selling author Melanie Joan Hall from her stalker ex-husband. He ended up in prison by the end and Melanie Joan and Sunny have remained close—Sunny has spent a few years living in her home, in fact, as Melanie Joan’s now based in California. 

Now she’s back in Boston, preparing to shoot a Netflix series based on her Romance series. SHe’s been wildly successful already, but this is set to make Melanie Joan Hall huge. Naturally, this kind of attention is bringing out enemies—including one who claims that the novel that started it all was plagiarized. Sunny needs to track down this anonymous accuser, quickly and quietly. 

Meanwhile, Sunny’s dad, Phil, could use a little help. Years before he retired, he arrested the son of a prominent defense lawyer and helped ensure he served a long sentence. That son was just killed in prison, and the lawyer is harassing and threatening Phil. Sunny and Lee Farrell team up to help Phil. 

Sunny gets some evidence that causes her to give credence to the claims against Melanie Joan, and their relationship is strained. Then people close to Melanie Joan start being murdered because Sunny doesn’t have enough going on. So, she has to clear Melanie Joan (or definitively establish her guilt), keep her safe, find out who is behind the plagiarism and/or murders, and keep her father alive while stopping this lawyer. Sunny’s going to need all her allies—and get a few new ones—to accomplish this To-Do list and get out of this alive.
 

The Two Exes 

One of the people with the biggest grudges against Melanie Joan is her ex-husband, serving a life sentence for his crimes against Melanie Joan, Sunny, and Richie. Sunny travels to the prison to see if he might behind this all. In fact, he knows a disturbing amount about Melanie Joan, Sunny, Richie, Jesse Stone(!), and the threats against her father. I should probably mention that recently, Melvin was represented by the same lawyer currently harassing Phil.
 

I remember less than nothing about John Melvin—it’s probably been 15+ years since I re-read Shrink Rap last. But based on what Lupica does with him he’s easily in the top 5 creepiest characters in the Parkerverse. And Lupica uses him as much as he can in this book. (but wisely not over-much) Why is it psychologists make the best bad guys? (see also Thomas Harris, Dennis Lehane, and a couple of other examples that will pop into my mind about 30 seconds after I publish this but that I can’t think of now) 

But before John Melvin, Melanie Joan had another husband—he was her writing professor in college (feel free to cringe at that, Sunny does). Melanie Joan credited Dr. Charles Hall with helping her get her first novel into shape. So if anyone’s going to be able to clear her from these charges—or condemn her—it’s going to be him. Sadly, he’s in poor health and suffering from some sort of dementia. His current spouse (another former student) can give Sunny some information, however. 

I’ve Got a Beef 

I think that Lupica makes a giant misstep in this book, but to talk about them would involve spoilers. If you’re curious, I’m going to post something separately about it so I can keep this post spoiler-free. If you’re not curious, I’m not sure I blame you. 

So, what did I think about Revenge Tour? 

Lupica threw everything he had into this last go-round with Sunny. Almost every character he’s used makes an appearance or gets their name used a couple of times—plus a few others from the Parkerverse. The story is more intricate than anything he’s given us thus far, too. 

Aside from the spoiler stuff, I don’t have much to quibble with. I think I could’ve lived with fewer TV references, they seem out of place in this universe. One would be okay, but there are more than a few. I also think the Phil Randall story resolved too easily—but it helped set up the rest of the novel, so I can see why Lupica made the choice. 

At the end of the day, I was really impressed with this one. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—I think Lupica did a better job with Sunny than Robert B. Parker did, and this novel solidifies that. I’d be content with him writing this series for a decade, but I have high hopes for Alison Gaylin as she takes the reins. 

If you’re even a casual reader of the Sunny Randall novels, this is one not to miss. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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I Did the Things You’re Not Supposed to Do 

I judged this book by its cover. 

I put this on my Want-to-Read this some months back, and really don’t remember why. All I really remembered is what I saw on the cover—it had to do with rescue animals, an “unexpected life”, and was called Funny Farm. The cover image has some friendly-looking animals. Something about it also reminded me of the cover of Straight Man by Richard Russo. 

It looked to me like a light-hearted book full of animal stories, probably some that are inspirational, some that are funny, maybe some that are sad. Think James Herriot, David Rosenfelt (non-fiction that is), or Andrew Cotter. And while I read the publisher’s description, I’d forgotten it, so I just walked into this with my assumptions from the cover. 

And you know what they say what happens when you assume… 

So, What Is Funny Farm About? 

It’s primarily the decades-long story of the establishment of the Funny Farm in its current form. It starts with Zaleski’s mother taking her and her two siblings and escaping from their abusive husband and father, dealing with both their poverty and continued harassment from him, and how they stumbled into Animal Rescue. From there we get a little about Zaleski’s outside career before we focus again on their mother’s relationship and battle with cancer, before getting a few chapters about the Farm’s permanent location and establishment as a non-profit organization. 

More than anything else, this is a tribute to Zaleski’s mother—and a deserved one. 

Animal Tales 

The small, between-chapter, profiles/extended anecdotes about some of the Rescue’s animals are what I came for, and are absolutely worth it. I’d read another book full of nothing else. I don’t know that such a book would be a great read, but it’d be fun.
 

How was the Narration? 

I liked the book, but I think I liked Erin Moon’s narration even more. She did a great job of bringing the text to life and augmenting the emotions. 

I did think there was a weird New England-ish accent to the way she said “Mom”—particularly when she stretched it out a bit. I didn’t hear it at any other point, just that one word. It happened pretty frequently, and I bumped on it each time. Not a big deal, by any means, just something I noticed. 

So, what did I think about Funny Farm? 

I’d have liked it more had I come into it knowing what to expect—and that’s on me. Also, I probably wouldn’t have picked it up if I remembered what I was getting. Not that it’s bad, just not the kind of thing I put on a list to get. 

There’s a warmth to the writing—even as it discusses the hardships her family endured, she writes from the perspective of someone who persevered and turned the experiences into something for the better. 

While not loving the book, I really liked it—and have started following the Rescue’s social media accounts because I want to see some of this in action. It really sounds like a great organization. If you go into it with the right expectations, you’ll likely get more out of it than I did—give it a shot. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Tuesday Mooney Talks To Ghosts About? 

When Tuesday Mooney isn’t big on socializing—she seems to be a fantastic conversationalist, witty and smart—but she’d rather spend time on her own after work, with few exceptions. But even her best friend has to initiate conversations, she just doesn’t do that kind of thing. Tuesday is a researcher for a hospital charity—she knows Boston’s upper crust in ways few do. She has a well-documented dossier on them all and knows just how to get money out of them. 

Tuesday has a neighbor, Dorry, who is an apprentice of sorts. Dorry’s a younger teen who lost her mother recently in an automobile accident. Her father is doing his best, but he can’t be everything she needs and provide for them. Dorry was fascinated by this woman in her building who wore black all the time and kept to herself. They run into each other one day and bond quickly. They soon have a weekly time together (“Tuesday Thursdays”) and Tuesday tutors Dorry in school—and important things like 1980’s-early 2000 music, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and The X-Files. 

At a charity event Tuesday’s working at, a particular wealthy man—Vincent Pryce—dies shortly before Tuesday gets to meet him. Pryce rather enjoyed his coincidental name, and played into it. In addition to making gobs of money and doing a lot of charity work, he collected the macabre—particularly things associated with Edgar Allen Poe and that other Vincent. He was a bit of a showman and after his death, had arranged to announce sort of a giant scavenger hunt in the city—inviting individuals and teams to play along to be given the chance to become an heir. 

Like many Bostonians, Tuesday and Dorry are intrigued. With some help from her neighbor, Tuesday pours her research strength into the project and leaps to an early lead—bringing along an old friend and a new ally (assuming she can trust him). 

That’s really all I can say at this point—other than to throw in, that like Samuel Westing before him, Vincent Pryce has a hidden agenda to his game. As we watch Tuesday, Dorry, and so many others compete, secrets are revealed. (that’s a horribly inadequate way to say it, but I’m tripping over myself to avoid spoiling anything) 

Conversing with Specters? 

So how literal is this title? Does our titular protagonist chat with the spirits of the departed? Maybe. 

The book will eventually take a position on the issue, but it’s going to take its time on it, letting the reader ponder that a bit. Now there are times when I want a book to be crystal clear—supernatural things happen, supernatural beings go around doing things. Or—supernatural things are mumbo jumbo. But every now and then I like a book that deals with the ambiguity well—Tuesday might be talking to ghosts, Tuesday might have a healthy and active imagination, Tuesday might be dealing with trauma. It might be all three and more. 

Tuesday’s neighbor, Dorry has no idea about Tuesday and ghosts. But almost more than anything, Dorry wants to see and interact with the ghost of her mother. At one point, she discovers that among Pryce’s collection of oddities are a pair of glasses that can enable the wearer to see ghosts. This becomes her motivation for participating in the game—sure, money would be nice for college and to help her father—but those glasses… 

How’s the Narration? 

Lauren Fortgang was delightful. There was just something about the way she handled the narrative portions that made this a blast to listen to. Her character work—especially with Tuesday and Dorry—was great, too. There’s a certain sense of fun and play to the text, and she brought that out in a way that was particularly effective. 

I enjoyed Fortgang’s work on the Dahlia Moss audiobooks, and I was glad to listen to her again—I think she did better here, for what it’s worth. 

So, what did I think about Tuesday Mooney Talks To Ghosts? 

I had so much fun listening to this—while doing so, things at work didn’t allow me as much time to listen as I’m accustomed to, so there was a bit of agony involved as the suspense built. 

I barely described the characters, and had to leave off so many. But I just don’t have the space. Pryce’s widow, for example, is a wonderful character who should get her own novella to star in. Tuesday’s new ally is a mystery in himself—and won’t stop surprising you until the book is over. I could keep going here, but I won’t. I would love to have a long conversation with Racculia to talk about character design, more than most authors I’ve read recently. I’d love to know how she goes about it. 

I’m not sure about the pacing of the whole thing, and I think there could’ve been one or two more moves in the game. But those issues really only occurred to me after I was done—in the moment, I was too busy enjoying myself to notice. 

Tuesday Mooney Talks to Ghosts was a lot of fun to read, filled with characters I want to spend more time with—I really don’t need a story, maybe just see them sitting around a table talking about what’s going on in their lives. The novel is rarely what you think it is going to be—and not just at the beginning. I really enjoyed it. 

 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Cartographers About?
This is hard—I tried to describe this to some friends earlier, and I tripped over myself so many times while trying to make this sound enticing while not giving anything away. I’d call that conversation a rough draft of this section, but it was so bad that Anne Lamott’s going to have to revise the section in Bird by Bird about sh***y first drafts.

Nell Young has had a life-long obsession with maps—her parents have doctorates in cartography and it might as well have been encoded in her DNA. She and her boyfriend had internships in the New York Public Library where her father works, too. Then one day, she finds a couple of maps in a forgotten corner of the Library, one of which is an old gas station map. Her father flips out over what she found, for reasons she can’t really understand—a major argument ensues and she’s fired. So is Felix, her boyfriend. Not just that, but her father goes on to wage a war on their reputations—they’re finished in academia.

Felix leaves the field and Nell goes to work for an Internet company making faux historical maps. Years pass without Nell speaking to her father, then he dies suddenly. While looking through his office, Nell finds that gas station map and is flabbergasted. Why would he keep that thing?

Nell starts asking questions and learning things about her family, and a whole lot more.

Visual Aids
As is fitting for a book about maps, the novel has some. Not many, most of the ones in the book are described, not seen. But there are just enough—the important ones—to ensure the reader can visualize what’s going on—we see what Nell and the rest see.

It’s a great touch—I love that Shepherd included those—I’m one of those fantasy readers who rarely glances at the maps in those books—but I spent time on these.

I Couldn’t Stop Thinking About…
Last week, I quipped that this book was “very Mr. Penumbra-esque.” This was too blithe and flippant. And yet…I couldn’t get it out of my mind.

Shepherd doesn’t write anything like Sloan, the worlds are completely different, and the way they approach character and narrative don’t really overlap. Really I think the only thing I can point to that is a demonstrable similarity is the way that they approach Big Tech companies—but this novel’s Haberson Global is more like the company in Sourdough, anyway, so I’m not sure it counts.

Again, I couldn’t stop thinking about Mr. Penumbra’s 24‑Hour Bookstore. It’s about some dedicated and brilliant people whose passion for and pursuit of something that everyone else in the world pretty much takes for granted. There’s a little more to it, but I’d have to spoil stuff about both books, so I’m not going to get into it.

So, what did I think about The Cartographers?
I never, not for one minute, thought that a book about maps and mapmakers would be this riveting. And I was wrong. Not that I’ve spent that much time thinking about books about mapmakers, but you get the idea.

I’ve read some pretty strong thrillers that weren’t as gripping as this. Shepherd paced this perfectly and kept building the tension in just the right manner. Even when I got to the point where I’d figured everything out—even the mind-bendy bits—and was just waiting for Nell and the rest to catch up, I was on the edge of my seat. That tension extends to things that happened before the novel’s present time—we’d get chapters of first-person narration from some of Nell’s father’s friends from when she was a toddler. I knew where certain characters would end up because you’d met them already—but that didn’t make the uncertainty about what was going to happen to them in the memory much easier to take.

But this isn’t just a thriller—it’s a story about a family. One of the sweetest, strangest, and saddest found families you’re going to run into. A mantra that runs throughout this book the way Uncle Ben’s “With great power…” runs through certain movies* is that the purpose of a map is to connect people. The way that these people are connected would be difficult to map out—the routes certainly are intricate and varied—but the connections are strong and lasting.

* Yes, I know it’s from the comics first—but the comics rarely, if ever, beat that drum the way some of the movies do.
 
I was less than satisfied with the ending—because I thought it was headed somewhere else, and then it seemed to aim in a different direction, and it ended up in a third. I think the expectation problems are all mine, they’re not from the text. I’m also sure that the ending we get is stronger than what I expected. Still, it’s hard to for me accept what we got since I’d spent 100 or so pages sure we were getting something else.
 
None of that changes the bottom line of this post—you’re going to want to read this book. I strongly recommend it. There are few books like it in the world, and that’s a shame. But it means that there’s every reason to read this.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Knave of Secrets About? 

Valen Quinol has pretty modest ambitions—he’s not looking to become rich or famous or anything, he’s seeking stability and comfort. He wants to open a casino with his wife, he just needs to get the money to do that. Earlier in his life, he went to wizarding school and left in a pretty noteworthy fashion, when it was clear that his scholarly ambitions were going to be thwarted. So he turned to the only thing he knew he could support himself with—gambling. And sure, in addition to being a pretty savvy gamesman, he became pretty skillful in ways to rig games. 

Valen’s wife, a friend who left school with him—Teneriève—and another friend work with him now—traveling around from casino to casino, from tavern to inn, etc. making enough money to support themselves, and maybe put a little away. 

After the reader meets the crew, a local ganglord pays Valen and Margo a visit to hire/threaten them into doing a job for him. Valen typically shuns his work, but this one comes with some tantalizing bait—Valen will be given the buy-in for a local tournament and can keep the money he earns. All he has to do is make sure one competitor walks losing everything they came to play with. If he turns this down, well, there’ll be a duel in his future. And Valen’s a cardsharp, not a fighter. It will not go well for him. 

Because this isn’t that kind of Fantasy novel, Valen and his talents go with the less violent option. What Valen doesn’t realize—and his sponsor doesn’t either—what the defeat of his target is going to kick off and drag them all into. 

Espionage, murder, political intrigue, societal upheaval—and the imminent possibility of a world war. All because of a game of chance. 

We get to watch Valen and his crew (partially) realize what they’ve instigated, as well as getting points of view of several of the major players in the fallout. 

Teneriève 

Teneriève is one of the more interesting characters in the novel—she’s from a group that’s essentially an analogue to the Roma, and faces hostility and discrimination everywhere she goes. Valen’s crew are the only family she’s known since leaving home, but even then, she doesn’t feel secure—not because of anything they do/think, but because of her own issues. 

Her story arc doesn’t go the way you think it will initially, and I’m glad it didn’t. Her story definitely doesn’t get wrapped up in a tidy bow. She could probably serve as the central character in a follow-up novel because there’s a lot to her that could be explored. I also really appreciated while the Roma-esque nature of her background informs her actions and attitudes, her story isn’t all about that identity. 

Quick tip: As good as the other storylines are, pay special attention to her scenes, they’re better (and frequently more frustrating and rewarding) than the rest. 

Something that Just Occurred to Me 

Before I hit Publish, I was struck by the thought that this is one of the most PG-13 Fantasy novels I’ve read in a dog’s age that wasn’t targeted at an MG audience. Maybe even PG (but a couple of the deaths probably shove it into the PG-13 world). 

I don’t know that this is a plus or a minus in some readers’ minds, but I thought it was noteworthy—who writes like that anymore? 

So, what did I think about The Knave of Secrets? 

I’ll tell you this upfront: I was not in the right frame of mind for this book when I started it. A novel with a new magic system, an involved history, a complicated (but not convoluted) political situation, and gambling—and people cheating at gambling. So you’ve got to understand the new games pretty well to visualize not just how to play, but how to cheat. Frankly, that’s a lot of work. 

Now, that’s not unusual for a Fantasy novel—and I’m not complaining. I’m just saying that when I started this book I didn’t have the mental energy to dive in, and I really wasn’t in the mood for it. So when I say that before the halfway point Livingston had me very engaged and invested in the plot and characters, that’s saying something. 

Livingston has done his homework and has created a very rich world here, we get to see some of it, but probably not all of it. Whether or not this is true, he really gives the sense that he knows all of the ins and outs of the history of these nations going back centuries—and (most importantly) has resisted the impulse to dump it all on the reader. Instead, he gives us just what we need to ground the story and character actions. Give me a book that hints at worldbuilding any day over a book that reads like a history textbook (however interesting the history may be). 

All the marketing for this mentions The Lies of Locke Lamora, and insofar as the book centers on a specialized form of criminals fleecing the rich, sure, I can get behind it. But this has a very different flavor and feel than Lynch’s novel. Some marketing mentions The Mask of Mirrors—and that feels a bit more on point. Other comparisons involve Casino Royale—beyond the gambling, I don’t know if that’s appropriate or not, I fell asleep each of the four times I started that flick. The political intrigue of this makes it more like The Mask of Mirrors or the less bloody and sexy parts of A Song of Ice and Fire. I don’t point this out (just) to criticize the marketing materials, just to help expectations—don’t go into this novel to meet the next Gentleman Bastards, go into it for a new and distinct kind of Fantasy novel. 

Despite not being in the right headspace for The Knave of Secrets and going into it with wrong expectations, I ended up pretty impressed with this novel and would definitely recommend this to a wide audience. It’s a satisfying read that will leave you wanting to know more about this world and most of these characters. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Sixteen Ways to Defend a Walled City About?
Orhan is a colonel in charge of a company of engineers—and a very good one. He knows what it takes to work the system to equip his engineers with what they need (and if it takes forgery of official documents and bribery to get people to do their jobs, so be it). Then in the field, he gets his men to do what they need to do.

As his company returns from some bridge building and repair work, they start to suspect something is afoot (okay, more than that, but I’m trying to keep it vague) and they hustle back to “the City.” Once there, they discover that one mistake after another has been made and upon the engineers’ return, Orhan is the highest-ranking military officer in the City—and therefore, he’s solely responsible for defending the capital of the Robur empire.

Whoops.

Now, Orhan may not be the hero that the City deserves (although he might be), but is he the hero the City needs?

Orhan
This is one of those books where your enjoyment of the book is going to be wholly dependent on your opinion of the narrator/protagonist. If you enjoy his voice and are entertained by the idiomatic way he goes about his work, you’re going to have a good time reading this. If you read a few pages of this book and aren’t taken with him—do yourself a favor and move on.

He has almost no social skills and seems to thrive on offending those in power and authority (when he bothers to care about his social skills, that is). He’s confident-bordering-on-arrogant, misogynistic (although I think it’s more applied misanthropy than anything else), quick thinking, decisive, and too clever for his own good. This will strike some readers as off-putting, and would be in a real person, but it works in this fictional world.

Really, at the end of the day, it’s all about solving problems—give him a problem and he’ll come up with a solution, and everything else isn’t that important. It leaves a few bruised egos and ruffled feathers in his wake—but he gets the job done.

But man, the way he tells a story and his attitude throughout really works for me—I read those first few pages and knew we were going to be friends.

A Series?
I don’t see how this functions as the beginning of a trilogy without hurting the last couple of pages—I don’t know if this was intended to be the start of a series, or if that came later. If it was supposed to spawn a sequel all along, I misread the last chapter or two.

I really don’t think Sixteen Ways to Defend a Walled City needs more books to tell this story, but what do I know? Parker (and his alter-ego) have written so many books that they clearly understand story, so I assume that I’m wrong on this point—and he’s very likely doing something I don’t expect.

While I want to see how wrong I am, the fact that this works so well as a stand-alone makes me disinclined to jump on the sequel. I don’t need more in this story, as fun as it probably is.

So, what did I think about Sixteen Ways to Defend a Walled City?

 
The fact that the narrator lives long enough to leave a record suggests that his second-in-command is wrong in his evaluation of their chances—at least some will survive (and Orhan mentions that a few times). But still, you know that a besieged city doesn’t have a lot going for it, and reading about the siege should be grim going. And it is at times, but that doesn’t stop this from being a fun fantasy read—almost all of that is due to the narrative voice, this isn’t a comedy by any means. But it is frequently funny.
 
This really struck me as similar to what Sand dan Glokta went through in defending the city of Dagoska. However many his faults, Orhan is no Glotka—he’s not as vicious, he really doesn’t torture anyone, and he’s not as limited by his own injuries. But there is something about the two characters that are similar. Orhan also reminds me of R. Wilson Rogers from Zieja’s Epic Failure series—an engineer who knows how to get things done in the Armed Forces (by manipulating the system) who is thrust into a leadership role at a critical time. Orhan really is the overlapping area in the Venn diagram of Glotka and Rogers, the more I think of it.

Several of the characters could be drawn better—but they really don’t need to be, we get enough depth to understand them, but not much more. It fits with Orhan’s character—he sees most of them as tools to use in solving his problems. You don’t spend a lot of time thinking about your hammer’s backstory. He does understand, and helps the readers to understand, the more important figures in the story. In most books, I’d criticize the lack of depth, but in this one, it actually fits.

There are a few battle scenes, but not to the extent you would get in similar books—Orhan and his men aren’t fighters by trade, they’re builders. So even the fight scenes are different than what you’re used to. I’m all for variety—especially variety that fits with the story.

There’s a whole lot going for this book, and little to complain about—for a fun, fairly quick, fantasy read, give Sixteen Ways to Defend a Walled City a shot.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Of Claws and Fangs About? 

It’s a collection of 18 shorter works in the Jane Yellowrock/Soulwood universe—one novella, a couple of very short vignettes, and several short stories. 

This is the second collection of such works (and I really should get that first one, I’m not sure how I’ve managed to miss it), and brings in material from a variety of collections and some things published online and brings them all together in one handy volume—which is great, most readers are like me and we’re not going to be able to get all these various collections, but you put them in a book like this, and we’re going to have a good time. 

I briefly considered giving a sentence or two about each piece, instead, I’m going to focus on just a few: 

Jane Tracks Down Miz A 

This is the sole bit of new material for the book—it’s described as a “short-short story.” It’s a little longer than a vignette, but not quite a short story. It was originally written for someone who won a charity auction, and Hunter re-worked it for this collection. I wasn’t sure what to think of it originally, but by the time it was over I wanted it to keep going. 

Bound into Darkness 

This novella is the longest piece in the book, and as such, seems like it should get a little more attention than the rest. The story centers on Eli and Molly’s sister Liz Everheart. Several other characters get involved by the end, but it’s primarily about these two and one of the worst dates (that really wasn’t a date) in history. There were plenty of good character moments, a few good supernatural baddies, and a lot of Eli doing his thing. 

The nicest touch, if you ask me, was the short story that followed it in this collection. It ties into the novella, talking about something that happens behind the scenes. It doesn’t really alter your understanding of the novella, it just adds a little color. I really liked it—not just because of the added color, but the story was nice, too. I didn’t realize I wanted to know more about Lincoln Shaddock, but I was wrong. 

Other Highlights 

I’m a big Soulwood fan, so I was pleased to run into two stories from that series here. There’s a cute story about Nell’s early days with PsyLED and Black Friday, which is followed by Occam’s origin story. 

There’s a great story where Angie Baby gets to shine. I’ve been thinking it for a while, but this story (“My Dark Knight”) confirms it for me—I need a stand-alone novel featuring her, either at her current age or as a young adult. She’s possibly the most interesting character in this series that features several interesting characters. 

Of course, there’s plenty of good material featuring Jane and Beast—it’s pretty much a requirement. My one note on “Life’s a Bitch and Then You Die” was that it would justify the book’s purchase price by itself. Then I read “Of Cats and Cars” (I posted an excerpt from that earlier today), “Anzu, Duba, Beast” and “Shiloh and the Brick”—I think I’d have said the same about any of them. 

Lowlights? 

Really, there weren’t any—not many collections like this can say that. 

For me, the collection started off rough—but I’m going to be in the distinct minority on this. The first vignette and the story that followed focused on Leo Pellissier, and he’s really never been my cup of tea. I can enjoy him as an antagonist to Jane, and even a benefactor, but that’s it—as a secondary character, basically. But even then, I thought the story, “Make it Snappy,” ended well, with a nice reveal at the end. 

So, what did I think about Of Claws and Fangs? 

I had more fun with this than I expected. I expected to have a good time with it, don’t get me wrong, but with short story collections, I try to go in with low expectations (and usually have those met). Like I said above, there’s not a bad one in the batch—sure, there were a few I could’ve liked more, but none of the stories were disappointing or dull. 

For readers of Jane Yellowrock and Soulwood, this is a must. You’ll enjoy the time with your favorites, get a new perspective on a handful of them, and will be exposed to a variety of adventures that wouldn’t fit into a novel. 

There’s nothing to complain about here, and plenty to enjoy—go get your paws on Of Claws and Fangs.