theirresponsiblereader's Reviews (607)

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

Briar is the commander of the Shield, the Royal Guard protecting the soon-to-be-King; his uncle, the Lord Regent; and the castle that serves as the capital for the realm of Sunweald. She’s been in the post for several years, also serving as the personal bodyguard and confidant of the regent. 

There are two neighboring kingdoms that would like to take over Sunweald, as well as to loot the castle’s vault, which, according to legend, contains the kind of magical weaponry that can remake the world. Keeping that vault safe, secure, and unmolested is one of Briar’s primary responsibilities. 

The prince is set to take over in just a couple of years, and Kester is the prototypical spoiled, indolent, and irresponsible royal who no one can imagine can/should assume the throne. Maybe, if he grows up a lot before becoming an adult, but that seems unlikely. Meanwhile, the realm is in the incredibly capable and wise hands of his uncle Alaric 

During a seasonal religious rite, an attack against the royal family leaves several guards dead and Briar near death, they have foiled the attempt, but at a great cost. After a long convalescence she’s recovered enough to move around a little bit, but not fit to return to active duty. After half a year of waiting and plotting, the survivors and some mercenary allies attack the castle from within—taking Alaric and some of the staff hostage, and killing others. Briar and Kester happen to be in just the right place and escape the sweep that collected so many. It’s up to them, each in their own way, to use Briar’s knowledge of the castle (and hidden passageways) to mount a rescue mission and to take down the small force who have taken over. 

Shields 

I’m talking literal shields here, not Briar and her guard. 

Growing up, the only way I saw shields used was defensively—to block arrows or swords—until someone had to valiantly discard them because their dominant hand/arm was injured and they had to desperately use their shield arm to wield a sword, obviously. The only exception to this was Captain America (and a DC clone or two) and his implausible use of his. 

And that’s pretty much how I saw the objects until now. But Clay Cooper and Briar have got me thinking about them as offensive weapons now. Their shields are very different in terms of size and material—but they’re both effectively used as a weapon. Briar does use her defensively, of course, but both prior to her time as a guerrilla fighter and now, she shows that a shield can be a potent weapon. 

So my questions are: Have I missed how people use these things offensively all along? (either by reading the wrong things or not remembering anything but the swordplay, archery, and/or magic) Or have we entered an age where authors are embracing the full range of these objects strapped to an arm? 

The Die Hard-Ness of it All 

The Publisher’s description of this novel starts off with, “A gender-flipped Die Hard set in a mysterious castle.” And that’s absolutely what the book is—is that description reductionistic? Yes. Is it apt? Also, yes. But it’s also so much more than that summary. (but what a great elevator, pitch, right?) 

I do not know if Johnston set out to write this as a Fantasy Die Hard, but at some point, he had to realize that’s what he was doing and (if you ask me) leaned into it. There are just too many similarities for me to believe anything else. But really, there’s one paragraph that seals the deal—I won’t give you details (but you’ll recognize it), but it is borrowing/appropriating/stealing an indelible image from the film. 

After reading that I knew it wasn’t just some ingenious marketer at Angry Robot who tagged it as “A gender-flipped Die Hard set in a mysterious castle,” as I half-way wondered, but it was Johnston’s intention. There’s just no way he does that. 

I should stress that just because it’s a version of a movie that you likely know very well—do not think you know how this book is going to go. There’s plenty of suspense for the reader, as well as magical creatures that might have sent John McClane running for the hills. 

Would I have been thoroughly entertained by The Last Shield without all the parallels to one of my all-time favorite movies? Yes. But being able to watch Johnston’s take on McClane, Nakatomi Tower, and the rest? It’s just an extra layer of frosting on an already delicious cake. 

I do wish we’d gotten a Thornberg/William Atherton-esque character (should that get a spoiler warning), a non-villain that you despise almost as much as (if not more than) Gruber/his crew. Not because the novel was lacking anything, it’s just satisfying to see them get their comeuppance. 

So, what did I think about The Last Shield? 

This is a heckuva thrill-ride. Like its cinematic predecessor, the action in this novel is top-notch. It’s not non-stop, there are moments of reflection, of exhaustion, of trying to figure out how to survive—much less succeed against this force. The set-up to the main action also takes longer than you might think (but you should really just relax and let Johnston do his thing, it’s all important and helps establish what comes later). I was hooked almost immediately—and while I wondered when the “Die Hard” part of the book would kick in, I really didn’t care. I was having a good enough time with Briar, Alaric, and the rest. 

But, boy howdy, when the action kicked in? What was a perfectly enjoyable book got so much better. 

Johnston can write an action scene—whether the action is hand-to-hand, bladed weapon against something else, supernatural-based…you name it, he can handle it with panache and aplomb. It’s well paced—with just enough downtime between fight scenes for you and the characters to be ready for the next. Once the book builds up enough steam, forget it—you’re not going to willingly put it down. 

It’s not all about swords, shields, axes, and spells, however. Briar dealing with her injuries and recovery—both before the “Hans Gruber” moment and afterward—is done to almost perfection. There’s real growth—and real injury (and not just physical)—to be seen in several other characters. No one survives this time unscathed in one way or another. 

The noted attorney and political operative Ainsley Hayes, noted, “they’re all about duty” when discussing the work of Gilbert and Sullivan.* This book, at its core, is just as much about duty as The Pirates of Penzance or H.M.S. Pinafore. Briar, ready to give her life fighting when she’s unfit for battle; Alaric, giving up decades of his life to step in as Lord Regent and govern; Kester figuring out what his obligations are to those he rules; several servants, guests, and others in the castle during the takeover carrying out their duties in what limited capacities they can as hostages—and the utter abandonment of duty by others. The Last Shield doesn’t have to be thought of in terms of good vs. evil (while it applies, it’s problematic when it comes to some characters). Instead, I suggest that it’s better seen whether these people live up to their duty/obligation or do they abandon that for selfish gain.** 

And, there is something incredibly appealing to that way of thinking in our incredibly polarized and me-centric time. All sorts of people considering the cost and putting aside their wants/desires/lives in favor do doing what they’re supposed to do anyway. 

* Yes, there’s no need to bring Ainsely into this, but I can’t help thinking of her and that line—or Leo, or Lionel Tribbey, etc.—when I think about duty.
** There are one or two characters who took over the castle that you could put forward against my claim, but I think I could make a strong (spoiler-filled) case in my defense, so I won’t do that pre-emptively. 

I should probably talk a little about the three magic systems at work in this world—but this thing is going on too long already. But I really like seeing that diversity at work. 

It wasn’t until I was preparing this post that I realized that Johnston wrote The Maleficent Seven, a book I’ve been meaning to get around to for ages. Now I’m even more motivated to do that (The Traitor God, too, come to think of it). 

But that’s for another day, for today, I just want to revel in the near-perfection of this roller-coaster of a novel. I had such a good time with this novel and I’ve been telling everyone I know about it (I even think I sold the manager of a local bookstore on it, hopefully, he continues that chain). I was ready to read it again as soon as I was done. 

Fantasy readers and action-adventure readers alike will dig this one. Go get your orders in now, unless you’re reading this on or after August 13—in that case, run down to your local indie bookstore and pick it up. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s A Farewell to Arfs About? 

We start off this book with Bernie and Chet finishing a case for the Sonoran Museum of Art (an institution we learned about a couple of books ago), and with things looking up—and money in Bernie’s pocket—this is a pretty happy way to start things. 

But soon after that, Chet overhears a phone call that their neighbor, Mr. Parsons, is having—and the reader knows things are going bad for him. Bernie learns the next day that Mr. Parsons has been the victim of a phone scam and is wiped out. Bernie starts looking into it—and into the Parsons’ ex-con of a son. It looks like he may have turned his life around, and is helping other former inmates adjust to the outside world and to stay on the right path. But is that what’s really going on? 

If Billy Parsons isn’t involved—who is? And is there any chance that Bernie can get back any of the Parsons’ money? 

Charlie and Esmé 

Bernie’s son, Charlie, has been a consistent pleasure in the series—particularly because of Chet’s devotion to him. But adding his best friend, Esmé, in the last couple of books has made the character much more enjoyable for me. 

I really enjoy their dynamic, for those familiar with Syfy’s Resident Alien show, it’s similar to the dynamic of Sahar and Max, only Esmé has a little more patience with Charlie than Sahar does with Max. 

Even better, we get to meet Esmé’s father in this book—who seems like a good guy for Bernie to talk to in general—he has no knowledge of Bernie’s past, he’s not involved with policing, investigations, or anything like that. Just a friendly guy—who happens to be smart and (coincidentally) involved in an area that Bernie needs help understanding for the case. I enjoyed their conversation and hope we get more in the future. 

(still, I do like the way that Charlier got to shine a little brighter this time than he usually does) 

Bernie’s Past 

Whoa. I did not expect any of what we learned about Bernie’s father in this book. Frankly, I didn’t think we’d ever learn anything about him—we barely know anything about his mother (and I’m okay with that based on Chet’s descriptions). But all of a sudden, there’s a lot about Harry Little being talked about. 

It works—don’t get me wrong—and now I want to know more about Harry, his relationship with Bernie, and what was going on with him in general. We don’t get that (now?), but we get a glimpse of the man that was a presence in Bernie’s life until his early death. And that’s not nothing. 

Feelings, Nothing More than Feelings 

So, all the stuff about Harry Little added some emotional weight to the novel. But we didn’t need any of it—I’m not objecting, don’t get me wrong—but the last thing this book needed was more going on emotionally. 

There’s some drama between Bernie and Weatherly. Bernie’s found a new way to botch things up with a woman—no real surprise there. The only plus is that it is a new way—he’s not repeating mistakes he made with Leda or Suzie. Maybe there’s some growth there—but it’s not Bernie at his best. 

Related to that are some real dark moments for Bernie—we’ve seen hints of things like this from him before. But I don’t think it was ever this pronounced. Bernie is not always a good guy, he’s not only a white knight—there’s a noir character in him, battling to come out. And Bernie’s control slips early on in the novel and he has to reckon with the fallout. 

But that’s not all. The Parsons have been aging and declining in health for a few books now, and for them to get wiped out like this—and then whatever that may or may not say about their son? There’s just no way to read this without your heartstrings being tugged. Scratch that—they’re yanked. 

I don’t want to be unclear here (he says after probably giving the wrong impression). This is still a Chet and Bernie book like fourteen that have come before. Chet’s still irrepressible, he’s still an unreliable narrator obsessed with Bernie, food, smells, putting his teeth on perps, and snacks. He will make you laugh, and you will enjoy Bernie tracking down clues and the rest. But, like the better installments of this series, there’s a lot more going on than Chet’s antics—and Quinn makes sure that the depth is there. 

So, what did I think about A Farewell to Arfs? 

I admit that I was hoping for a criminal named Mike Craven to show up—to get back at Craven’s accidental use of Quinn’s name in last year’s Fearless. But it’s probably too soon for that—maybe in the next couple of years? 

Once I saw what Mr. Parsons was doing on the phone, I muttered to myself (and texted a friend) that “Quinn’s getting all the mileage he can out of the research he did for Mrs. Plansky’s Revenge.” More power to him, obviously, but it did feel a little like a re-run. Thankfully, the story went in a very different direction—as I assumed it would, but still. In fact, while this might have been the result of the same research, the nature of the phone scam was different enough to shut me up. 

I’m not sure that Weatherly handled things as well as she could’ve, but I’m not bothered by an imperfect character—she can be as flawed as Bernie. But that was the only hitch I found in this book or the events in it. 

I really appreciated the depth we see of Bernie’s character, an angle or two that we haven’t spent that much time looking at before—we get to focus on. There’s more to him than being a decent PI with a lousy approach to finances. And if how he treats the Parsons doesn’t make your heart melt a little, you weren’t paying attention. 

We get the usual chuckles (including Chet giving the reader a good idea about what he thinks about legalized marijuana), a good story, all the feels I described above (and more), and some good action scenes. What more is there to ask for? 

Nothing that I can think of.  

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Red Dead’s History About? 

Like so many people around the world, the author got back into video games in 2020 as a way to fill the hours he wasn’t interacting with people in real life. Like so many others, one of the games that captured his attention was Red Dead Redemption II. Unlike so many people Tore C. Olsson is an American History professor, so while he was fun doing whatever it is exactly that you do in the game*, part of his brain was looking at the history and time being depicted in the game. Because if there’s one thing the game is known for, is being the most popular and influential game set in American History since The Oregon Trail from the 80s. 

* It should be obvious that I don’t play video games at all, not even the one in question. 

Olsson went on to make headlines—and pack lecture halls—by teaching a history course based on the games, and he’s now turned it into a book. 

This is not a book about the game (although he talks about it a lot), it is not a point-by-point examination of the historical details (but it comes up a little), it’s primarily using the game, and the things shown/talked about/alluded to in it as a launching pad to discuss themes, movements, and particulars from post-Civil War America. 

The focus for the book is Red Dead Redemption II, but Red Dead Redemption comes up from time to time—but not any of the other games in the franchise. Olsson’s discussion follows the geographic order and proportions of the game—starting with adventures in the West, moving to the Deep South (for the majority of the book), and then wrapping things up in Southern Appalachia. 

Historical Accuracy of the Game 

From the start, Olsson is clear, he’s not going to get into slicing and dicing the historical accuracy of Red Dead Redemption 2, but…he can’t help talking about it every now and then. He has a lot of good things to say about the history of the game (really, he wouldn’t have taught a class or written a book inspired by it without that), but the biggest note seems to be—if the game had been set 20-30 years earlier than it was, it would’ve been better. 

There are particular points here and there where he will offer specific critiques and commendations—but that’s essentially the point he keeps coming back to. 

Now, I don’t know enough about the storylines of Red Dead Redemption or Red Dead Redemption II to know why the developers insisted that the game takes place when it does—and it certainly seems like they did have an eye for historical detail—they just missed it. It might be a game continuity thing, there might be all sorts of explanations for it. I don’t know. 

Now, Olsson isn’t sitting there like Neil de Grasse Tyson tweeting about the scientific inaccuracies in movies, the point of the book isn’t to critique the depictions of the era. But while he’s talking about the various topics, he will mention them briefly. It doesn’t take anything away from the game for him. 

The West 

The first section focused on is the one that the game is best known for (and, I’ll be honest, the only thing I thought the game had)—a strong take on the West. I’d like to say that I’d read a book about the subject of each chapter were Olsson to expand them, and that’s true in a perfect world, but I’m not sure I really would. But I’d be willing to. 

I should note that it’s probably very easy to read several books on the topics of each chapter right now. And you never know, I just might. 

This section covers things as nebulous as the concept of “The American West”—and when did it start dying/disappearing (if ever). Controversial topics like The Indian Wars, the amount of violence in the West (and some of the notable persons behind it), how Justice/Laws were enforced, and so on. Olsson also covers things you’d expect (especially if you actually know the game)—the construction of and use of the railways; cowboys; The Pinkertons; Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid. 

I learned so much about all of these things—and I’m very tempted to go out in search of some of the books footnoted here. 

The Deep South 

As anyone who teaches American History—particularly in a place like Tennessee—is aware, talking about the Deep South in a post-Civil War era is a daunting task. But as that’s where the bulk of the gameplay takes place, the bulk of the book gets that treatment as well. 

As with the rest of the book, Olsson talks about the game’s portrayal of this area and the topics, how media culture(s) depict of this area and the topics, and finally looking at the history of the area itself. 

In this Part of the book, Olsson talked about such non-controversial topics as: The Paradox of Race; From Old South to New South; The White-Hooded Menace; The Tragedy of Lynching; In the Fields (largely post-War); Working on the Chain Gang; Mr. Jim Crow; The Lause Cause; New Orleans, 1899; and Votes for Women. 

Obviously, there’s far, far too much to say about any of these topics than he has time for in a book of this size and scope—but what’s there is provocative (in a good way), thoughtful, and well-footnoted so curious readers (and there will be many after these chapters) can do some follow-up reading. Yes, that’s a sentence that applies to the book as a whole, but it seems apt to emphasize it here. 

Southern Appalachia 

This part feels very timely considering how much Appalachia, Appalachia, and portrayals of the area/its residents in the media have been in the last few weeks. 

Olsson only gives three chapters to this part of the book (about 11%) as much as he might be kicking himself for that now. Like with Part I: The West, he starts by discussing “The Appalachian Myth.” Just what makes up this part of the country? Why has it captured the imagination the way it has? How much of what we think of when we think “Appalachia” is true now or ever was? 

He then looks at the race to claim parts of it after the Civil War and how that shaped the culture and history of it. Then he spends a chapter looking at Blood Fueds—obviously focusing on the Hatfield/McCoy feud, what lies at its root—and the surprising ways it actually broke along family lines. 

I was a little too tired while reading this section to get as much out of it as I think I ordinarily would’ve—and really should revisit it once the book is released, I think I missed some good stuff. 

So, what did I think about Red Dead’s History? 

I had some really good history professors and teachers over the years, so I really don’t want to say that Olsson is the professor I wish I had—but really, I don’t imagine many will read this book and not want to take a class or two from Olsson. 

The writing is engaging, witty, and insightful. He has a real knack for making you care about something you really didn’t care about just a few pages earlier—for that matter, you may not have been aware it was a thing you could care about/be interested in just a few pages earlier. I’m not going to suggest you’ll agree with him all of the time, because you won’t. But you’ll almost certainly enjoy his perspective as well as his presentation of the facts. 

I’m not really the target audience for this book—I figure that’s game players who want to dive in to get more depth about the context of the game. To learn the stories behind the game’s stories. Or those who now have an interest in American History and don’t know where to go get more information outside a stuffy-looking textbook. Given that, I think it says a lot when I tell you that I had a great time reading this, and am more curious the game than I had been before. Not so curious to actually play it (or buy the game, a console to play it on, etc.)—but enough to talk to my son who has played through it—and has spent a lot of time doing sidequests and whatnot, and maybe even to watch some gameplay videos online. And that’s more than I typically am interested in doing. 

This is a great way to approach American History; it’s a good way to approach this type of media (games or otherwise); and it’s just an entertaining read regardless. It moves a little slower than a novel—but not much (for those who are daunted by non-fiction reads). Really, there’s not much to not commend about this book. You really should check it out. 

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley—thanks to both for this. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Shades of Mercy About? 

Sheriff Porter Beck’s life intersects with a couple of high school buddies for the first time in many years. And both situations should make anyone else from high school leery of running into him. 

We open with Beck coming across one of those friends after they’d overdosed. Soon after, a federal investigator recruits Beck to go visit the other one. Jesse Roy has recently moved back to the area, and is renovating his father’s ranch into something that Beck can’t comprehend—it’s just too large, too gaudy, for this area. Cattle ranching is going really well for Jesse (too well?). The night before, something had gone wrong with a test vehicle with the Air Force, and something had fallen on Roy’s prize bull, destroying it. The investigator is here to negotiate a settlement—and it’s not a little one. 

But something about the whole deal sets Beck’s B.S.-meter off. He forces the investigator to come clean—someone had hacked an Air Force drone and launched a missile at the cow. It was a targeted hit—but why? 

Beck knows if he doesn’t help for the search for this hacker (and they know they’re local, somehow) and get to the root of the problems soon, his county will be overrun by Intelligence officers from all sorts of government agencies. 

Oh, and there are wildfires threatening the county on several sides, and a large group assembling to storm Area 51. Just in case it didn’t seem like he had enough going on. 

The investigation quickly points at a teenage girl who is serving some time at a teen facility nearby. As hard as it might be to believe. And before he knows it—Beck finds himself dealing with so much more than a hacker. 

Comparing Shades of Mercy to The Bitter Past 

So, the first book used dual timelines to tell the story—and I was afraid Borgos would try to pull that trick again. I think it could’ve worked, but eventually, his county is going to run out of people who were doing 
interesting things several decades ago. This time it’s all one timeline (with a little backtracking every now and then, but not much. But we do bounce between a few perspectives, so we still get the advantage of multiple POVs. So he’s able to maintain some of the same feel there. 

His deputies are back, but some of them aren’t really seen due to the fires. There’ve been some changes since the last book and it’s good to see that everything isn’t stagnant with this series. We don’t get as much time with them all this time, and that’s a disappointment. Other characters return, too, most of them made me happy and one was a pleasant surprise. I had a more specific sentence there, but decided to remove the names… 

The big change is the focus—The Bitter Past is all about the past—what it does in the present, how it can change so much about your life when you learn new things about your own past. Also, the weapons and conflicts of the past. 

This one is very present and future-focused. It’s also good to see that Borgos isn’t stuck in one frame of mind. 

So, what did I think about Shades of Mercy? 

I’m having a hard time talking about this book without saying too much about the content. 

In what—I think—was a very nice bit of story-telling is that there were a few things that should make the attentive reader pause and wonder if Borgos is being sloppy. I’m going to try to be vague here, but I’m thinking of some parts of the timelines before the novel started—and some things that happened during the novel that we don’t see first-hand, but see the effects of. I was too invested in the stories to spend time on these myself—I basically shrugged and moved on (not that I noticed everything I should’ve, either). I’m going to give you credit for being perceptive and thoughtful enough to catch these things—then I’m going to reassure you: trust Borgos. Everything gets tied up, everything makes sense, I can’t tell you how often in the last pages I said “Oh, sure—that makes sense,” (I also said “I probably should’ve caught that” about most of those items). It’s really a nice and tidy book. 

I’m worried that my last paragraph makes the whole thing seem like a mess. Au contraire. This is a tight thriller—it’s only on a few points that it I was mistaken that he’d left things dangling. The rest of the book is as tightly written as you could hope (which I should’ve realized described the rest, too). There’s a little slowness for a chapter or two, just to bring us back into this world, reintroduce the character, and catch us up on Beck’s life—then we’re off to the races from the moment that Beck is brought to his old friend’s ranch. 

The conclusion was just great—exactly what this book (and character) needed. 

This book bodes well for the rest of the series that follows—yes, I’d like a “smaller” crime. One that didn’t involve multiple state and federal agencies, for one. Just a matter of Beck and his guys analyzing a crime scene and then figuring out who in their small community could’ve done it. It’d just be more believable than all the federal and military types wanding around all the time. But the way Borgos is dealing with the latter, I’m not sure I care. 

There’s enough humor and heart here to take the edge off of things—the tension gets cut, the characters are made more endearing, and the reader can catch their breath before diving into more tension and action. 

I wasn’t as wow-ed with this book as I was the first—but I was still impressed, and this book makes me more sure what the following books will be like than I was with The Bitter Past. And it promises to be a very good series. I’m repeating myself, so it’s time to wrap this up. Either with Shades of Mercy or The Bitter Past, you want to get on board this series here at the beginning. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Dog Day Afternoon About? 

Overall, I’m not sure that the body count in this book is that much higher than in other books in this series—but the way it opens is very different. The instigating crime feels like something straight out of a mass-shooter video your HR people make you watch annually (assuming your workplace is similar to mine, I guess)—it’s cold, calculated, with a casual disregard for human life we don’t often see in this series. (Andy says something similar at one or two points). 

So you’re left wondering—how does Andy get roped into representing the accused? (although many readers are going to read that scene and pick out the places the defense is going to take advantage of). This is where Marcus comes in. 

Andy learned about this earlier, but we readers learn about this now—Marcus mentors young people in his neighborhood who have had a rough time of it and have run afoul of the law in the past. They need some help, some guidance, and some favors—Marcus provides this. 

He also helps a couple of those he mentors to adopt a dog from the Tara Foundation. One of these two is accused of the crime—Marcus comes to Andy for help, and he gets it. That Willie also vouches for the accused helps—there’s no chance that Willie agrees to let one of their dogs go to someone capable of this crime. 

That’s not evidence he can introduce in court, but it’s compelling for Andy. Now he just needs to find something that will be compelling in court. 

Marcus 

Marcus can’t become too well-rounded of a character—we need him in the shadows, doing things that defy belief. But we can learn more about him than we have prior to this. 

We see that he can have attachments to people other than Laurie (and by extension, Andy). We see just how far he’s willing to go to help someone. 

I was interested in this book because I’ve enjoyed almost every one of its predecessors enough that I don’t bother to see what they’re about before I add them to the TBR list. But once I noted that this one featured Marcus like that—my excitement grew. I love watching the character at work, and to see him in a different situation than we’re used to made my day. Also, we got just what the doctor ordered from a Marcus-centric book. 

So, what did I think about Dog Day Afternoon? 

I cannot believe that I’ve read 29 books in this series (plus a few in a spin-off). Twenty-nine. That’s just insane. Now, am I going to say that they’re all as fresh as they were in 2002 when Open and Shut came out? Of course not. But they have their moments when they feel that way
 

* According to my logs, I read it in 2011—I’ve been with these characters for 13 years. Mind-boggling. 

So, Rosenfelt has his work cut out for him to do something to keep the audience engaged. Over the last few books, he’s worked on deepening the relationship between Andy and Marcus, which has been nice. This book takes a big step forward in that. I don’t know that we’re going to see much more than this anytime soon—you need to preserve some of Marcus’ mystique to keep him nearly-superhuman in Andy’s (and the reader’s) eyes. Similarly, we readers can know Hawk a little better than when Spenser first ran into him in Promised Land—but not too much. 

So, we’d better enjoy what we get here, right? 

And naturally, that’s really easy. Other fun bonuses—Andy getting along with the prosecutor. Cory clearly being annoyed with Sam Willis wanting to get in on the action. Even some of the Andy and Tara interactions felt a little different (not unusually so, and not negatively). There was also the attempt of a law firm to hire the most reluctant lawyer in the world—that did bring a smile to my face. 

There’s a good mix of the tried and true Andy bits, fun material with our old friends, a clever mystery, a new side of Marcus, and Rosenfelt’s trademark zippy prose. It’s easy to see why this series has gone on as long as it has—and may it continue to do so. 

Can you hop on here? Absolutely—and you’ll have the fun bonus of a healthy backlist to work your way through once you get done with this one. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader, as did a Q&A with the author.
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What’s Rites of Passage About? 

Teenager Corbin James escapes from the cult he was (largely) raised in just as the FBI’s raid begins. Weeks, miles, and multiple states later, Corbin’s still running when he encounters someone who seems to know a lot about him. Too much for a random stranger to know. 

This stranger (we later learn he’s called Mister) recruits/tricks/entices/entraps Corbin into joining him for a task. Mister and Corbin join up with some other members of the Inner Circle (a group of magicians found in most of the major cities in the U.S.) to hunt for a missing magician. Corbin has the magic ability to dowse—and for much more than water (although maybe he can find water, too, it never comes up)—he can find whoever and whatever he needs to. 

Obviously, there’s something about the search for this particular missing person that is going to take a little more than one session with Corbin and his dowsing rod (or it’d be a short story, not a novel)—and Corbin’s introduction to the Inner Circle, to the reality that there are all sorts of people who can do magic, and all sorts of magic, and a world beyond his cult isn’t going to be easy for him. Or all that safe, either. 

Worldbuilding, Magic System, and So On 

Okay, you’d expect that someone who’s written books on worldbuilding would know what he’s doing when it comes to it (or at least, you’d hope he would). In this case, you’d be right—which doesn’t make it less impressive. 

This very clearly takes place in a version of our world (joking references to “muggles” make that clear), and magic users are underground. But, as UF readers often see, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a strong culture of rules, mores, customs, and whatnot. There are essentially two ways that magicians organize themselves—in local associations or in a major association that covers the nation (it’s hard to explain briefly—think of a regional fast food chain and McDonald’s). Due to the circumstances around this novel’s events, we get a pretty good idea—but not exhaustive—about how they both function, are organized, and recruit members. 

The variety of magic abilities is pretty great. The closest comparable series I can think of on this front is Jacka’s Alex Verus books. And I know this book only scratched the surface of that. It’s one that I can’t wait to explore in future books. 

When it comes to The Dresden Files, The Hollows, or The Iron Druid (for example), by the end of the first book, you have a pretty solid understanding of how magic functions in their universes (even if that understanding will grow and expand over the course of the series). With Rites of Passage, we don’t get that. But you never have the impression that Presley’s making it up as he goes along. I have a vague understanding of how my smartphone works, but I know there’s a lot that I don’t understand—but I can use it and understand that it does work. The same thing goes for the magic here—I can see these people use it, and I understand that it does work. I don’t need to know all the ins and outs. 

Some authors beat you over the head with the details (I’m not suggesting that Butcher, Harrison, or Hearne did that)—showing their work like it’s a math test. Presley doesn’t do that—he just shows it working and gives you a sense that there’s a methodology afoot. The reader will slowly (over a few books) piece it together—or not, because they really don’t care about the details—as we see more. Just knowing that there’s a structure is enough. 

Is It Me? 

Is it just me, or are there a lot of books being written lately about people escaping from cults? I’m not talking strict religious families/cultures—but out-and-out cults. Maybe I’m not seeing as many as I think I am and it just feels that way. 

I’d say I’m starting to get tired of it—and I am—but Presley does such a good job of showing how Corbin’s life and thinking have been shaped by the cult, and how even after getting away from them (and how he did it)—he still reflexively thinks like a member. Sure, he’s skeptical about some of it, and can see through some of what the leader had done. But it’s not something you can just switch off, and Presley demonstrates that with skill. So, I’ll wait until the next time I come across this phenomenon to complain about it. 

The Playlist 

Presley has assured readers that once he gets enough online reviews for this book, he’ll release the playlist for this book. This playlist is going to be a doozy. At some point along the way, Corbin gets his hands on an enchanted iPod that helps him navigate the events of this novel. Given his sheltered upbringing he doesn’t recognize most of the songs it plays for him—he’ll give a description of some of the songs, so the reader can guess some/many/all of what he’s listening to (depending on the reader). 

Getting this playlist will actually help round out your understanding of the book (it won’t be essential, but it’ll be a nice bonus)—and I’m pretty sure it’ll be fun to listen to, too. 

So, what did I think about Rites of Passage? 

I’ve talked about worldbuilding already, so what about the characters, arguably the most critical component in getting me (and other readers) to want to keep reading? Presley gives his readers a lot to here. It’d be easy to create a series with almost every magician we encounter in this book as the central character—and that’s not something I can say too often. Corbin is likely the best choice—the way he has to be introduced to this world and other forms of magic is a major plus, so any info-dumping for the reader has a natural outlet in teaching Corbin. But I can see myself really getting into at least a duology with every other magic user (including the villain of the piece). 

While writing this post, I went back and read one of Presley’s answers to remind myself what character he mentioned here: 

 
I’d forgotten to look for Kirin as I was reading to see if I could pick that up—it’s just as well that I did, so I can say that Kirin is this fan’s favorite. I’m also a bit relieved—we didn’t definitively say goodbye to Kirin here, but the way things ended, there was no guarantee we’d see her (or many other of the surviving characters) again. But knowing she’s got an arc that will be developed over several books helps build my own anticipation for further books (nothing against Corbin, but I knew we’d get more about him).
 
I’m not as enthusiastic about the plot as I am the other aspects of this novel. It’s not bad by any means—I was engaged and curious throughout. It wasn’t too hard to follow or anything else negative, either. I just think there was so much going on in establishing characters, the world, the magic, the associations, and so on that there wasn’t enough space left over for the story. Your results may vary, of course—but for me everything else overshadowed the story. I do fully expect that in future installments I won’t have this complaint as Presley has established enough here that he can focus more on the plot.
 
Regardless, I heartily encourage Urban Fantasy readers to try this. You’re not going to find your typical UF mainstays here, but you’re going to find a world that you’re going to want to spend more time in with characters you’re going to want to get to know better. This series has the potential to become a favorite.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Let’s Get This Out of the Way Right Now 

This is not like the Robin Sloan books you may have read. This is not Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore (even if everything I’ve seen from the publisher says it’s part of the Penumbraverse) and this isn’t Sourdough. If you’re looking for something like that, I can’t help you by talking about this book. 

And yet…some of the same themes, the same kind of ideas, the same oddball ways of thinking, the same characters that will fascinate and (sometimes) frustrate you, the same quality of writing are present. So it is like the Robin Sloan books you may have read. But not really. 

What’s Moonbound About? 

Maaaannnn….I don’t know, I really don’t know. In case those semi-contradictory paragraphs above didn’t give you a clue. Also, to really talk about it would involve a few pages on my part and several spoilers. 

Let’s start with this: the events of the book begin in the year 13777. The number of things that the human race has gone through—cultural, technological, societal, scientific, and political changes (revolutions, really) are impossible to describe. Civilizations have come and gone—the planet Earth looks little like it does now, and humanity isn’t much like it is now (except humans are going to be human—it’s like Doctor Who‘s far future episodes that way—just without the space travel). Even the Moon—the Moon, for crying out loud—isn’t the same. 

In William Goldman’s The Princess Bride (and the movie does something very similar), Goldman talks about his father coming in while he’s sick to read him a book by S. Morgenstern. 

 
Similarly, let me tell you a little about what Moonbound contains:
Knights. Brothers. Talking swords. Dragons. Friendship. Robots. Bogs (which are very different than swamps). Raiders. Wizards. Bees that give direction. Gleaning coffee shops. Climate Warrior Beavers. Constructive debates (literally). Genetic engineering. Legendary warriors. Forty-three million dimensions.* Pizza rolls. Trash-pickers.

* Not really like Marvel’s Multiverse, more like the mathematical concept of three-dimensional or four-dimensional space, but much, much more expanded.

I’m not sure that’s helpful, but it’s something.
 
We begin when our protagonist, a boy named Ariel de la Sauvage, finds the remains of one of the greatest warriors in human history. This discovery ends up starting a chain of events that will lead to Ariel being on the run from the Wizard who rules the valley Ariel and his brother have grown up in—not just grown up in, but have never left. They have no knowledge of anything outside this valley—if anything exists beyond it, really. But to overthrow the Wizard and save his brother, Ariel will have to go into the wider world and learn about it. He needs experiences that his valley cannot give him. Equipped with this education and experience, Ariel should be able to confront the wizard and rescue his brother and the rest of the people he grew up surrounded by.

Oh, and he’s guided throughout this by an AI who has the accumulated knowledge of most of human history and is currently residing in a microorganism that has implanted itself in Ariel’s body.

Clear as mud, right?

Story
More than anything else—and there’s a lot of “anything else”—this is a novel about Story. The power of story to shape reality, to shape our expectations, the way we go about our lives, and the way we need others to go about their lives. The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. The stories we tell others about ourselves. The stories that others tell us about themselves—and us. The stories that societies, governments, and other groups tell us and others about themselves and us.

Lastly, and maybe most importantly, Moonbound about the way we can re-write our stories, the way we can take control of them (once we realize the story being told) and change things.

So, what did I think about Moonbound?
That’s a great question, and one I’ve been chewing on for more than a week now. I want to read this at least two more times before I think I’ll be ready to answer that. Maybe the fact that I want to read this at least two more times in the next year or so gives you and me both a hint about what I think about it.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this book since I started reading it two weeks ago. Part of that is to think about what I read and decide what Sloan was doing and what I thought about it. Another part of that thinking is just reveling in just how strange and wonderful it was.

While reading, when I was able to stop thinking things like, “what is going on here?” or “What is Sloan trying to accomplish?” and just enjoy it and get caught up in the story—I was able to lose myself in the book. And that got easier the further into the book I got. But I also spent an awful amount of time just trying to suss things out and overthinking things.

I don’t think that’s a bug when it comes to this book—it’s a feature. Sloan has given the reader so much to take in, that if you’re not chewing on almost every idea, you’re doing the book and yourself a disservice. But it’s also the kind of book you can relax with and enjoy. At a certain point in the book, Ariel learns to lay back and float in water—which is both one of those things that takes effort and can be incredibly relaxing at the same time. Like him, the reader has to learn how to “float” in this book. And when you do, you’ll be rewarded. How greatly you’ll be rewarded, I’m not sure—but you will be.

I’m not going to give this a star rating—sorry if that’s what you’re looking for. I just don’t know (in case I haven’t used that phrase enough yet in this post)—I can both defend every rating from 3-5 Stars, and I can wage a better argument against each of those. I encourage readers who find anything I’ve rambled about above intriguing, fans of Sloan, or people who read what the Publisher’s site says to give it a shot. And then let’s get together and talk about it, because I’d love to bounce some spoilery ideas off of someone.
 

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

Almost a year ago, Mark walked away from his old life and into a 12-step meeting. It’s been a struggle for him—he’s almost relapsed, he came close to suicide, and he’s struggled every day. But with the support of the other people in his group, his sponsor, and a little orange cat who came into his life at just the right time—Mark is making it, day by day. 

Then one day, Mark’s cleaning up after the meeting and he’s attacked by a Russian who moves like a professional killer. Mark fights back—incapacitating the Russian and escaping with a serious—but not-too-serious—wound of his own and a burning question: who sent the Russian? The search for the answer takes Mark (and his cat) around the world—into some very dangerous situations, and almost more temptation for Mark to relapse than he could’ve imagined. 

You see, Mark’s 12-step meeting isn’t for Alcoholics Anonymous, Gamblers Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous, or anything like that. As you’ll guess from the book’s title, it’s Assassins Anonymous. Hitmen, Assassins, Serial Killers, and the like, who are tired of the life, who are tired of killing and want to try to live productive, life-affirming lives. They have to fight old impulses, old habits, old attitudes, they have to abandon adrenaline rushes (which are probably pretty addictive) and all the rest for a quiet life. Mark had been one of the best in the world (or the worst, depending on your perspective)—almost legendary—until he went cold turkey. But someone’s apparently trying to warm up the poultry.* 

* That’s a metaphor I really shouldn’t have tried to stretch. 

Can Mark discover why someone game for him almost a year after he quit “the life”? Can Mark make them stop without having to throw away all the work he’s done over the last (almost) 12 months? 

The Movies 

Like many moviegoers, I love a good hit man movie. I can even enjoy a “just okay” hitman movie (sorry, The Whole Ten Yards you don’t qualify as either). Mark, unsurprisingly, isn’t a fan of most of them. Sadly, that’s where most people get their ideas and information about assassins and hitmen from. So by character, actor, or movie title, they’re brought up frequently—usually to Mark’s dismay. He’ll also just compare his life to those movies on occasion. I enjoyed this aspect of the character a lot—particularly one running bit where people kept expecting him to look more like a particular actor. 

Other kinds of movies are used throughout the novel, too—they’re a great shorthand way of revealing character. What movies he likes, what movies he refuses to mention liking, and so on are a convenient and efficient way of telling you a lot about Mark. Also, it’s just fun to see characters talk about movies and whatnot—as people like Whedon, Tarantino, and Smith have been showing us. 

The 12-steps 

As the book started to really focus on—and feature—things like the meetings Mark’s attending, his recovery, and his working the steps, I started to get worried. Primarily because it was early on, and while I understood that Mark was flippant, even a wiseacre—was Hart going to be flip about the 12-steps? That feels like something you shouldn’t touch—like a third rail, a skunk with a hair-trigger, or that Easter Egg you finally found in late June. 

But no—the meetings, the steps, the attitude about recovery, and the way the characters interacted about their recovery were dealt with respectfully. Sure, there was a little bit of Mark’s attitude (or similar ones) expressed in the meetings and whatnot—but not about the meetings or the program, just about each other or themselves. (much like I imagine happens in an actual meeting) 

If anything, this is practically an advertisement for those kind of programs and the good work they can do. Because this is the heart of the novel—yes, there’s the violence, the suspense, the twists, and whatnot—let’s call them “The Thriller Aspects.” Those aspects are what will draw readers to the book, they’re what’ll keep your attention and get you hooked on it. But Assassins Anonymous isn’t so much about the “Assassins” as it is the struggle, the stumbles, and the victories associated with Recovery. In my book, we should get more of those—particularly honest books about the victories. 

So, what did I think about Assassins Anonymous? 

Imagine Martin Q. Blank, Jimmy Tudeski, and Frank Moses meeting up and trying to take care of business—non-lethally (I guess that’d be something like the pacifist version of The Expendables), and you’ll have something like this book. 

Let’s start with The Thriller Aspects—Hart nailed them. Even—maybe especially—the more outlandish aspects of them (which are really the trickier part to pull off). There’s a confident panache to the novel—as well as most of the characters—that lets you know right away that you’re in good hands and are set for a great ride. Some twists you’ll see coming, and won’t care because of the way he executes them. But also, 

The 12-Step aspect—well, see above—another win for Hart. 

What about the comedy and narrative voice? Spot on—seriously good. It’d be easy to go overboard on the comedy—or to not use enough of it (we are talking about a bunch of people who have killed many others), but I think Hart hits the balance just right. And Mark’s the kind of guy you can enjoy being stuck in the mind of for 320 pages. 

The first chapter gives you everything you need to know about this novel—it’s such a well-written chapter, too. Voice, character, action, comedy. If you read it and aren’t hooked, you’re probably going to feel that way about the rest of it. If that first chapter works for you? Kick back and enjoy. 

Sure, this novel is right in my wheelhouse—I’m practically its target demographic incarnate—but I think even if I wasn’t, it would’ve won me over. I strongly encourage you to pick this one up. I can’t tell you what’s keeping me from giving it the final full star, but something is (and since I’ll have to round up almost everywhere I cross-post, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it)—but, boy howdy, you’re in for a great time when you open this one up. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Christa Comes Out of Her Shell About?
Christa Barnet is a biology researcher happily studying a particular kind of snail on a remote island in the Indian Ocean. The island is populated by people who grew up there and a rotation of other researchers taking advantage of the isolation of the flora and fauna from the rest of the world. She has no real close relationships, a nice room in a boarding house, and her snails—life is pretty much what Christa wants.

Until her father comes back from the dead. Well, kind of. It’s not a zombie novel or anything. Her dad was an internationally known TV host of nature programs. Think Steve Irvin without the accent. But when Christa was a small girl, the plane her dad was flying went down in the Alaskan wilderness and no one knew what happened to him. He was eventually declared dead, and the family moved on.

But now, he’s back—so Christa has to leave her snails behind and go back to help her mother and sisters deal with this, to find out what her dad has been doing (and why no one knew he was alive).

To get all reductionistic there are three main plotlines afoot and I want to touch on them briefly—but each of them is about Christa coming out of her shell in their essence.

The Whole Dad Thing / Celebrity Culture
So, yeah…her Dad is back. It’s hard to talk about this as anything but strange. And Christa and her family don’t even bother trying. As they learn more and more about where he’s been, it gets even stranger.

Obviously, all of them have a lot to catch up on, they’ve missed decades of life with him—Christa has only the vaguest memories of him because she was so young when he disappeared. Her sisters have relationships to repair and rebuild (to say nothing of what her mother needs to do)—but Christa essentially needs to start from nothing.

Given his status (which has only grown while he was “dead”), the way that the media is sensationalizing his return, and the way the American public loves a good reboot—the press and opportunities for books, movies, new series, etc., etc., etc. are insane. It’s difficult to try to reestablish/establish any kind of family ties under the microscopes and spotlights that surround the family right now—and that’s assuming the family wants to.
 

 
Throughout all of this, Waxman has her sights set on the entertainment industry (with a special eye on publicists/PR/focus on image over substance), the role of the press in covering that industry, and social media (in general and relating to celebrities). Waxman reminds me so much of Christopher Buckley (oddly, Dave Barry’s fiction comes to mind, too) when this plotline is the focus—she has a similar ability to find the alienness to what “regular people” think, the absurdity of the “logic” employed by the media types, and the ridiculousness of how it all works—and is eaten up by viewers/fans. She excoriates this whole thing—but also shows the appeal.
 
The Romance Story

 
Nate has been a constant feature in Christa’s life (and vice versa), he’s older than her—more like her sister’s age. But their families were close while they grew up—so they spent a lot of time in each other’s orbit. He’s now running the business side of her family’s conservation work, and they really haven’t set eyes on each other for over a decade.
 
When they do meet each other in this novel, the mutual attraction is pretty obvious (especially to everyone who isn’t them). What unfolds from there is one of your standard-issue Rom-Com stories. But Waxman is so good at writing it that it feels pretty fresh, and you can easily find yourself forgetting that you’ve read umpteen times and seen even more stories that follow the same outline. Also, it needs to be remembered why we’ve seen/read this story so many times—it works really well and people enjoy it. People really enjoy it when someone as clever as Waxman is telling it.
 
The two are sweet and cute together. The story is easily the most engaging part of the book—and it’s nice to have it to fall back on when things get dicey with the above story.
 
Christa’s Mother and Sisters

 
I think readers are supposed to get more invested in the story about Nate—and the story about her Dad is really the bigger story of the novel. But the plotline that did the most for me was about Christa’s family that didn’t go missing—her mother and older sisters.

Like with many such stories, there’s a mix of who these people are as adults and who they were as children/teens (and younger adults, in the case of her mother). Christa, more than the others, still sees the others the way she saw them as a child and during her turbulent teen years. Yes, she understands how they’re not the same people, but her view of them as people and their relationships with her were set in stone then. And for her sisters, they largely see the troubled teen she was.

In the last couple of years, however, Christa’s sisters have started to change—and they all get to see new sides of their mother given the return of her not-that-deceased-first husband. They all see Christa in new ways, too—and we get the idea they actually understand her better than she does herself.

If you’ve read Waxman before, you know how well she depicts relationships between women. If you haven’t—just take my word for it, she depicts them in a way that you could just sit and read dozens and dozens of pages of it, even without much of a plot. When they’re working together on something (even if they don’t all agree on the way to do it), it’s just great. If Waxman just wants to give us a novella about the next Thanksgiving these women enjoy together (or something like that), I’ll be first in line.

I have largely complimentary things to say about the novel as a whole, but this aspect is the one I’ll spend the most time thinking about.

We Could’ve Faded to Black a Little Quicker
Like with the Sunshine Vicram series, at a certain point I couldn’t believe I recommended this book to my mother.* I’m sure she’ll enjoy it, but things get a little more spicy (and detailed) before Waxman fades to back on our couple. And Christa’s first-person narration is fine with talking about things that happen while things were faded to black.

* Note to Self: Finish Books before recommending them to her.

I don’t think we actually achieve the, um, levels of ardor that Sunshine does (not like that’s the most extreme I’ve encountered, I just think I’ve talked more about what the people that make up TV/Movie warnings call “adult situations” with that series than others). But we get close on a couple of occasions.

Is it too “adult” for most actual adults to read? No. Will many of you find it tame? Yes. Did it make me a little uncomfortable? Yes (I keep telling you I’m a prude). Does it really impact what I think of the novel? Nope. But it was noteworthy enough, that I figured I should mention it.

If only I feel better about things when my mother ends up reading the novel.

So, what did I think about Christa Comes Out of Her Shell?
According to my notes, the first 87 pages of this book might have been my favorite 87 pages this year. Maybe it went on longer, but that’s where I was when I wrote that down. Not every page after those were as good, but overall, I had a real blast with this book.
 
Christa is definitely a Waxman-brand protagonist. But she’s different enough to make it clear that Waxman has range. Christa is more abrasive—she also has more formal education than the others I’ve encountered and shows it (not in a performative or braggadocio way). There’s also a Bernadette Fox-ish vibe to her. The rest of the characters are easily the kind to shop at Nina Hill’s bookstore or hang out at the boardinghouse with Laura Costello and the rest. In other words, they’re complicated, fallible, and fun to spend time with.
 
Waxman’s voice is one of my favorites—and has been since I first encountered her work. I love her characters, her wit, and the stories she decides to tell. This seemed like a departure for her—not in ways I can articulate, nor in ways I can or want to criticize. It’s just a different feel from her last three novels—and more power to her for making those choices.
 
I laughed, I was moved, my heart was warmed—all the typical reactions to Abbi Waxman. I loved being in this world, surrounded by Waxman’s words and I cannot wait for the next excuse I have to do it again. I heartily encourage you all to do the same.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Time-Marked Warlock About? 

Until a few years ago, the names of warlocks Adair and Carter Finch were famous among the magic community. Private eyes who helped law enforcement as well as private clients dealing with cases large and small—they were pretty close to superheroes. Then they took that one job that put them against an opponent they weren’t ready for, things went wrong, and Carter died. 

Adair’s magic couldn’t help. He couldn’t even track down everyone who was responsible, so he couldn’t get revenge. So…he went home and retreated from life. He became an asocial hermit, doing little more than existing. 

Then one pre-dawn morning, a twelve-year-old girl pounds on his apartment door. Her mother always told her that if she was in real trouble to track down Adair or Carter Finch. They weren’t close friends by any means, but they did know each other—enough so that her name makes Finch pay attention. Bree’s mother was a witch and her father is a warlock, but not in the same league as Finch. Bree tells Finch that her mother has been murdered and her father kidnapped—and she needs his help to rescue her father and get justice for her mother. 

Finch is not inclined to do anything but close the door on her face and get back to not interacting with anyone. But he can’t turn down her appeal—so he agrees to go to the crime scene (if only so he can determine that she misunderstood what she saw, and that her father actually was the murderer). 

The scene isn’t what he expected—Bree might have been right. Also, the police detective on the scene knew Finch before he “retired” and neither really appreciated the other. Det. Jenner really rubs Finch the wrong way on the scene. 

Between their less-than-pleasant interaction, Bree pulling on his heartstrings just right, and what Finch noticed at the scene of the crime, Finch decides to take the case, wrap it up quickly, and get back to wasting away as soon as he can. 

Finch 

Let’s get this out of the way real quick: Frequently reminded me of (James J.) Butcher’s Huntsman, Leslie Mayflower (and several other retired/depressed heroes, but Mayflower is most recent in my mind, so he gets name-dropped). Is he the Huntsman? No—he’s far less inclined to leave a trail of bodies in his wake.* for one thing. But he gives a similar vibe. 

* We can argue some other time about how inclined Mayflower really is. Roll with it for now. 

He’s clearly angry at himself. He’s reticent to put himself out there emotionally (or any other way). He’s not ready to let anyone else down again (assuming he really did). But something about Bree creates a crack in his defensive shell, and it’s great to see purpose emerge from where he’d trapped it down. He’s a different guy by the end of the book (probably like what he was years ago)—he’s not totally where he should be, but he’s on the road to recovery. As the series continues, I look forward to seeing how he grows/recovers. 

Bree Blackstone 

I don’t know how any UF reader is supposed to read her full name and not think of Harry Dresden. Maybe we’re supposed to—surely we are right? 

Anyway…if Bree doesn’t melt your heart right off. If you’re not rooting for her to get the answers she seeks and maybe a touch of the retribution she longs for—and to save her dad…there’s something wrong with you—go listen to some Whos down in Whoville sing some Christmas songs until your heart is the right size. 

She is so frightened by everything—there’s a real parallel to Finch there. But she’s determined to get the help she needs to save her dad and get the bad guy who killed her mom. And if Finch is the way to get both of those, she’ll get him to help her. 

Naturally, along the way she picks up a pretty hefty case of hero-worship. Finch doesn’t see it for what it is right off—but he eventually does, and knows he’s not worthy. Watching him balance helping her, fending off (or trying to) her fangirling over him, and teaching her what she needs to know to be safe in the magic world is a great balancing act. 

Bree is really well-conceived and executed by Stovall, and will become one of your favorite characters of the year. 

Kullthantarrick the Sneak 

Kull is a trickster spirit that Finch calls up to help with a little something along the way—she’s largely around for comic relief—but she also helps Bree to learn some things about the nature of magic, spirits, and the like that she hasn’t learned from her parents yet. Yes, her role is to help make worldbuilding infodumps entertaining. She’s well-used that way. 

Any spirit of mischief—from Mercy Thompson’s Coyote to the Wizard in Rhyme’s Max to Al MacBharrais’s Buck, or…okay, I’m drawing a blank here—can be a lot of fun. You just set them loose to create havoc and sit back and watch. And Kull is great at that. 

But that’s not all she is—she wants to be a human, she’s seen and done enough as a spirit, and she wants the human experience now. That adds a little depth to her—there’s also an affection that develops between her and Bree that adds even more shades of depth to what could’ve been a disposable character that ends up being so much more. 

Really well done there. 

The Magic System(s) 

I don’t know how much to say here. This world has a handful of magic systems at play—there’s one for witches—like Bree’s mother and (presumably) her. There’s another one for warlocks—it’s similar and not necessarily mutually exclusive to the witch system. And there are some others, too. 

One way that Finch uses his abilities (that other warlocks like Bree’s father can’t) is that he has some ability with time. It’s in the title, I feel I can give a vague description here. He’s constantly noting the time whenever anything happens. If he “marks” the time, within any 24-hour period he can return to the marked time—retaining the memories and knowledge gained, but getting to start over. Bree compares it to a save point in a video game. 

This is brilliant—and so good to see in action. There’s part of me that wondered if it’d feel like a cheat—killing tension and so on. Or if it’d just be some Groundhog Day-riff good for comedy and that’s it. If you’ve ever played—or watched someone play—an intense video game with a save point, you know that’s not enough to keep someone from getting stressed out about almost dying/dying within the game. Sure they can take another try (or several), but the tension is still there. It works that way for this book (especially if it looks like Finch might not reset in time). And yes, there’s some weatherman Phil-esque humor, but not as much as other authors might have indulged in. 

All in all, Stovall nailed this part of Urban Fantasy. 

So, what did I think about Time-Marked Warlock? 

Three great characters (not even counting the antagonists), an even better magic system, and a decent plot with a satisfying central villain. I don’t know what else to ask for in a UF novel. 

The pacing was on-target—even when revisiting the same day or events over and over, Stovall was able to keep it fresh. She also knew when to say “they did X again” and when to show it. The action scenes worked well. The villain(s) were believable, had compelling motivations, and were enough of a threat to all involved to keep the reader’s interest. 

There were supporting characters—including villain(s) that ended up not being as terrible as you might initially think—that were just as fully drawn, and you could generate a little sympathy for some of the people associated with the murder once you realized how they were being used, too. 

There’s a good setup for further books in the series, too. 

I really can’t think of much that Stovall could’ve done better—this scratched my UF itch, and I bet it’ll do the same for you, too. Keep your eyes peeled for the release and get your hands on this when you can.