theirresponsiblereader's Reviews (607)

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Tenacious Tale of Tanna the Tendersword About? 

Tanna is an aspiring Champion, a hero in training, and a student at Edic Academy of Valient Adventurers who is looking for her first quest. It ought to be small, as she’s young and inexperienced, this is the chance to show that she can accept a challenge and complete it successfully, thereby earning the opportunity to further her education. 

Traveling with her is a Chronicler-in-training. His duty is to accompany her as she seeks for and then completes her quest, writing the official (and perhaps mildly dramatized) version of her heroics. When/if Tanna becomes a full-fledged Champion, he (or another Chronicler) will accompany her, so someone can tell the tale of her adventures for the entertainment and edification of non-heroes. Galdifort Quillpen is less than appreciative that Tanna’s search for a quest centers on a village populated largely by pigs and pigherders. The sights, smells, and sounds are not what he had in mind. 

But she’s not finding a quest, and they only have a few days before they have to return to the Academy. Returning empty-handed will set them back in their training—perhaps derailing it entirely. Tanna is keeping busy helping people with chores and being friendly—but that’s not a guidebook-approved quest. 

She excitedly comes to him, however, with an opportunity. Someone knows someone who can send them on a search to request for a quest. They only have to talk to a few people, travel after curfew (and a great distance) to a place that will put them very near the territory of a witch who is largely only referred to as What’s-Her-Name, to hopefully find the person with a quest. Tanna’s dogged determination and some rather exciting circumstances force Galdifort into agreeing to go along with her (complaining and objecting the entire way). 

And that’s just the beginning… 

Along the way, they will meet a peg-legged Rooster who is a vicious fighter, talking (and crying) mushrooms, a giant hawk-like bird, and enough other strange creatures to fill a Bingo card. They’ll face dangers and personal challenges. And maybe, just maybe, learn something. You know, if they survive. 

Spoon! 

Okay, Tanna doesn’t have a battle cry that silly. (Yet?) But throughout the book the relationship between Tanna and Galdifort reminded me so much of The Tick and Arthur (in every incarnation, but primarily the animated version, just because I’ve spent more time with that one). Tanna has The Tick’s optimism, the sheer belief that things will work out, she’ll vanquish her foes, and that the right will prevail—because that’s how it goes. She also has The Tick’s, um, poor grasp on vocabulary, understanding of complicated matters, obliviousness toward their companion’s attitutde, and propensity for overblown dialogue. 

Meanwhile, Galdifort has Arthur’s intelligence, reluctance to rush into danger, preoccupation with the kinds of things that their heroic companions miss, pessimism (they’d both argue realism), and both find themselves more loyal to and confident in their companion. 

I don’t think that Conway and Adams consciously modeled their duo on Edlund’s—but there are worse ideas. I think it’s just that this combination of traits really works for comedy, drama, and ongoing character development. Something they all discovered and used to well. It’s also a good way to explain to blog readers of a certain age what kind of character dynamics are present when they buy a copy of this book of their MG readers (or themselves, I don’t judge). 

The Illustrations 

Because I’m so lousy at describing art, I do want to point you to some samples on the author’s site, and they are great. Cute as all get out, Galdifort’s personality is captured perfectly. Tanna’s wide-eyed optimism and energy is clear. And I’d love a print of that Peggs illustration. 

So, that’s the flavor. The art isn’t a major component of the book–there’s a small illustration on the first page of each chapter, just a little bit of eye-candy. There are some medium-large illustrations scattered throughout the text as well. Nothing to distract you from the story (well, much). Mostly their purpose appears to be to grab your eyes and suck you in. They are whimsical (there’s one that depicts a miserable and harrowing experience, but even the illustration is a little whimsical–without taking away from the misery), and add just a little pizazz to the experience. The text doesn’t require them, but I can’t imagine that they’d do anything but entertain and engage the reader. 

Consider me a Dewey Conway fan. 

So, what did I think about The Tenacious Tale of Tanna the Tendersword? 

This was ridiculously fun. I wish I was in Middle Grades so I could appreciate it a bit more—I’m too jaded and old to really get into it the way I wanted to, I could see what the authors were doing, and so on. It took a little bit of the fun out of it for me. But when I could suspend my, um, advanced adulthood and just enjoy the story, boy howdy, did I. 

There were some rough patches for me when it came to grammar and language, and they most likely will have been addressed by publication. I couldn’t even tell you what they were now, so they were pretty minor (nor could I find them easily, because I tried). But I can’t imagine that any 5th +/- grader is going to pick up on them (or care). 

The humor and heart are both evident throughout—I don’t know that I laughed out loud (see the jaded bit above), but I was frequently amused. There were some subtle messages/life lessons woven into the text that I appreciated and probably won’t come across as messages or life lessons for the target reader. I have to be vague with what I liked because a lot of the fun is in the discovery—or the way that Galdifort grumpily engages with or describes the world around him (he’s not quite Puddleglum or Eeyore, but he could get there one day with enough effort). But I assure you, it’s entertaining from at least page 3 right up to the end.
 

I think the experience would be enhanced a bit by having the illustrations, but even without them, I was entertained. The Tenacious Tale of Tanna the Tendersword is good, wholesome fun that will surely engage most readers of all ages, with a satisfying conclusion—and a good hook to bring us all back for the second in the trilogy.  

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What The $#*! Did I Just Read? 

This is a selection of short—sometimes very short—stories that the publisher describes as “magical realism.” Which I guess is fitting—some seem more like SF, Fantasy, or somewhere in-between, than what I think of as “magical realism.” But I’m not going to be finicky about the label—call it whatever you want, as long as “strange” fits into the definition. Because “strange” is the best word to describe every story (even if other words would do better for specific entries). And I truly mean that in the best of ways.
 

The other element element that characterizes these stories is “Southern Fiction.” This is incredibly apt—even when a story doesn’t mention a locale, or use a colloquialism or slang to show that this is Southern, there’s something about them that just screams Southern Fiction. You know it when you see it.
 

Economy Of Words 

Other than “strange,” “weird,” and so on, the word that comes to mind when describing this book is “Economical.” How anybody can create a tone/tenor, voice, world, and characters in so few words time and time and time again is beyond my ken. 

Sure, there are a handful of apocalypses in this book—but they’re distinct. The stories don’t feel like they’re talking about the same World-Ending Event (and they’re not, but you’d halfway expect them to feel similar). The monsters in Story X wouldn’t fit into Story Y, and probably wouldn’t even be noticed as all that monstrous in Story Z. 

Bradley Sides is a skilled and gifted writer and you can see that on pretty much every page. 

* I think “every page” would be a better way to put it, but let me understate it just in case there are 1-3 that miss. 

So, what did I think about whatever that $#*! was? 

The question that I started this post with is something I put in my notes more than once. And with maybe one exception, I followed it with “But I’m glad I read it.” 

So, the collection started roughly for me—I liked the writing, but the story did nothing for me, but the second? “The Guide To King George” knocked my socks off. Most of the rest did, too. The titular story seemed like a miss to me, too (but what a great title). 

Some of these made me laugh and/or chuckle—like the story of the young vampire girl who is desperate to leave her family farm, or the Choose Your Own Adventure story about a Father and Son during an apocalypse—but I stopped chuckling soon and shifted into something else. The setup to “Nancy R. Melson’s State ELA Exam, Section 1: The Dead-Dead Monster” was delightful, even if I felt guilty for being delighted by the end. 

Then there are the sobering stories, the heart-wrenching stories. So many captivating, unnerving, and something-in-the-neighborhood of hopeful ways to look at death. 

I really can’t explain this collection, as I think I’ve demonstrated pretty well here. I’m sure others can, and you should look for their comments. But I’ll tell you this, you’re not going to find many collections that are as pound-for-pound good as this one. Even when the story doesn’t quite strike you as successful or entertaining as the rest, you’re not going to forget it soon, or regret the experience. 

Go grab a copy. 

  This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Fortune Smiles About?
This is a collection of short stories—longer than most short stories I end up talking about here, but not novella length by any means. I’m not remotely sure how to describe the book or the themes as a whole…I guess I could steal that line from Semisonic, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” These stories occupy the overlap of the new beginning and the end of the other beginnings.

Nirvana
Loss. Personal Grief. Dealing with disease, AI, and national grief. It was funny and gut-wrenching at the same time. I didn’t expect effective and affecting speculative fiction to start this collection (I honestly didn’t know what to expect, but definitely not that), but it was a dynamite start and raised my expectations for the rest.

Hurricanes Anonymous
This is not your typical post-natural disaster story. I don’t know what to say beyond that. I mean, I guess you could say there are somethings that are worse than the devastation a hurricane leaves in its wake—and we see at least one example of it here.

Other than to note the above quotation, the only thing I wrote about this was “I really don’t know what to think of it, but I’m glad I read it.” That kind of applies to the collection as a whole, but it really describes my reaction to this story.

Interesting Facts
This was hard to read—the emotions are so raw. This story is about the collapse of a marriage and the damage cancer wreaks—on the lives of the person with it and those around them.

George Orwell was a Friend of Mine
Years after the fall of the Berlin Wall—and everything that went with that—we spend some time watching the former Warden of a Stasi prison. His wife has left him, his adult daughter is having questions about him, and he’s still trying to adjust to the world he finds himself in and what the world thinks of his former career.

This was powerful stuff. I don’t know what else to say—for the longest time, you find yourself pulling for a guy you’d typically think was a monster (thankfully, while never thinking he was a stand-up guy). And then…well, maybe your perspective shifts a bit.

Darkness Falls
I could not finish this one—I’m willing to believe that there’s a decent ending to this, and there was a compelling reason to deal with this amount of darkness. But, I just couldn’t finish it because of the subject matter.

Fortune Smiles
This story is about a couple of North Korean men who defected to the South (one willingly, the other possibly less-so). Culture shock isn’t the right way to describe what they’re going through. I hope this doesn’t come across as dismissive—but it’s almost like Brooks Hatlen’s time after being paroled in The Shawshank Redemption, that’s the quickest way I have to describe their adjustment.

This story is just stunningly good, and it makes sense that the collection is named for it.

So, what did I think about Fortune Smiles?
This wasn’t a collection I could sit down and read back-to-back stories in. Frequently I had to take a day or more off between them (and sometimes I ended up taking more for other reasons)—Allyson Johnson’s recent WWW Wednesday comments* indicate that I’m not the only one who reacts this way.

* I’m expecting her to tell me how wrong I am about “Darkness Falls,” incidentally.
 
The stories, the points of view, the characters, circumstances, etc., etc., etc. are so varied from story to story that it’s hard to consider them as a collection. But here’s a few takeaways:
 

I don’t know what else to say beyond that I’m glad Allyson put this on my radar, and I’m definitely recommending 5/6 of this to you all.
 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Jacket Copy Say?
I’ve spent a month tossing out my summaries of the plot/setup to the book. I give up—I either make this bland (and that’s a crime), I get too detailed in trying to describe something (another crime, I’m dull at it, and Chen’s not), or it’s so sketchy on details that it’s pointless. So, let’s turn it over to the professionals:
 

 
The Everyday Lifeness of it All
Mariana is not good at living in the day-to-day. She’s always been goal-driven, more focused on her dreams and plans and how to achieve them than about enjoying the journey. Her friend’s death has rattled her, yes, but she’s still essentially the same.

Carter, on the other hand, is great at living in the moment. Sure, he was (and could be again) good at the goal-driven life, too—but he chose a path his parents didn’t choose for him. He’s able to get Mariana to stop and smell the metaphorical roses–as well as the literal food in front of her. He shows her how to enjoy a good meal for the sake of a good meal, to take pleasure in the little things—not just to consume enough fuel to keep her going.

In the midst of trying to figure out what caused the time loop, what the effects of that flash of energy that sends them back to Monday are on the rest of the world, and how to stop it all, a real friendship develops—Carter and Mariana bringing out the best in each other.

The Groundhog Day/Time Travel
Now, if Chen’s Here and Now and Then taught us anything, it’s that Chen can write good Time Travel fiction—he gets the strengths and weaknesses of the ideas, the pitfalls to avoid, the way to keep it compelling. Adding in a Groundhog Day-like twist doesn’t change that, it just makes it better (and keeps this from being just a variation on his first novel).

This is a different kind of Time Travel than his previous book—and (as always) Chen gives us just enough of the science to make it believable, but not so much that you could go out and test it (or pick it to death in the details). The Time Travel aspect is important, but it’s not the core of the novel—that’s the stuff I talked about before.

What I personally found fascinating is how close Chen’s science-ish Time Travel resembled Gareth Brown’s magic-ish Time Travel, both in how it works and how it’s used. Two very different novels, with very different goals—but the overlap is fascinating. (at least to me)

So, what did I think about A Quantum Love Story?
I probably grinned through most of this book—particularly after the first loop for Mariana. I absolutely loved the friendship between the two—and then when it started to become more (not a spoiler, it’s literally the title), I was fully on board.
 
Chen was at his best here with his character design (the whole backstory about Mariana and her dead friend was so good…the kind of thing that other writers would devote a whole novel to) and the plot of the novel was even better. The best material happens so late that I don’t even know how to tell you about it without spoilers abounding—so I’ll be vague, once Carter’s memories start going, what was a great, heart-warming yet strange story becomes a dynamite emotionally-rich story with some of crazy turns.
 
No surprise for anyone who’s ever heard me talk about Mike Chen novels for the past six years—I strongly recommend that you pick this up. It’ll be one of those novels you relish and think about fondly for a long time to come.
 

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

It seems that after the events of Harvested, Max Boucher has developed a specialty when it comes to his PI work—animals. Granted, most of these are pretty small cases without a lot of excitement, but work is work, right? And if he’s getting the bills paid, he can spend more time thinking about the new evidence he found at his old home at the end of Harvested. 

But that’s for another time, really. Max has been hired to leave Seattle and come to Cedar Peak—a small town in Idaho*, where someone from out of town sticks out like a sore thumb. He’s been called upon to investigate a missing—presumed stolen—horse, worth a pretty penny. 

* I kept changing my mind about what city it’s based on, and decided to stop trying because it really doesn’t matter. 

But before he can even start this investigation, he stumbles across a murder. Now, that’s not why he’s in town, but he sort of befriends the woman dating the dead man (who turns out to be related to the horse’s owner). He’s warned off by the local police, but he ends up looking into the murder, too. 

It’s not long at all before Max discovers that almost nothing is what it seems and that he might have bitten off more than he can chew this time. 

The Other POV 

Interwoven with Max’s story is the first-person account of a young woman becoming a serial killer. On the one hand it’s easy to see why we get this (her weapon of choice is used in the murder)—but it frequently feels like it could be a different book. 

Actually, you could excise these chapters (or at least almost all of them) and publish it as a stand-alone novella. You’d probably need a different conclusion to make it satisfactory—but it’d work that way.

 This isn’t entirely a criticism (although it does feel a little out of place from time to time)—the way this story ends up merging with the rest of the novel really works and adds to the overall impact of the novel. 

The only real complaint I have about it is that all these chapters are in italics, and it just bugs me to read that much italicized material, there’s gotta be a better way to set that kind of thing off from the rest of the text. 

The Series Arc 

After the way that Harvested ended (and well, the way that most of that book went), I assumed we’d get a lot more time and space devoted to the murder of Max’s daughter and the disappearance of his wife in this book. I didn’t expect that he’d solve everything so soon, but still. 

And while Max (and/or Lambert) didn’t blow off the topic, the novel didn’t focus on it as much as I’d assumed. I think it’s good for the long-term health of the series, as long as Lambert doesn’t drag things out in this regard. The closing pages of this novel bring in a new twist to the series that can help out with the overall arc(s), too. 

So, what did I think about Teaching Moments? 

It feels pretty uncharacteristic of me not to mention Max’s dog so far. Russ is one of those rescued at the end of Harvested and he’s become an important part of Max’s life. He’s a very good boy, and a canine I’m pleased to make the acquaintance of. 

I don’t think I was as surprised at a lot of the serial killer story as the novel wanted me to be. That may be because I read too many things in this genre. It was well-executed and I don’t have any noteworthy negative things to say about it beyond I thought it wasn’t that unexpected. I don’t need to be shocked, I just want a good story, and that’s what Lambert delivered. 

A solid PI novel is one of my favorite things in the world. Lambert’s Max Boucher novels are good examples of the genre. Yes, the setting and the central crime might not be common for the genre, but they work well in Lambert’s hands. I’m definitely looking forward to more of these, and recommend them to you. Even if you’re not looking for a series, Teaching Moments could work as a standalone. Either way, you should give this a shot. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Below the Falls About? 

This is a diverse collection of 25 short stories (some very short, some not). I’m struggling to say more than that about it. 

The title comes from the first story, but it applies pretty well to the collection as a whole. Some more directly than others. Each story does deal with the effects of a fall–metaphorically, naturally (with an exception or two). Sometimes the protagonist is the one who fell (or is falling), sometimes they’re next to or observing the fall, maybe dealing the the consequences of it.* 

* I fought hard against the impulse to say “dealing with the fallout” there. 

The Publisher’s description puts it this way: 

 
I might have picked other stories for the blurb, but then again, those are probably some of the easiest to summarize in a sentence.
 
So, what did I think about Below the Falls?
Like most short story collections, this is a mixed bag. And your results are going to vary (perhaps wildly) from mine. Which sounds like I’m trying to weasel out of giving a firm opinion, but it isn’t.

There’s a meme that I see everywhere (except for now when I’m looking for it) that says something about running across a sentence that makes you close your book for a while to sit and think about it. Nearly every story in this collection has one or two of those sentences, or at least sentences that I had to read a couple of times just to appreciate them.

Too often, those sentences were all I had to commend a particular story, however. My notes are filled with comments like, “why?”, “a plot would’ve been helpful here”*, or “what was the point?”

* Yes, yes, yes–they’re not always needed for compelling reading. But they are sometimes.

However…the other stories more than made up for that. For example, an early story was described above as “A mysterious Bird of Paradise makes daily overtures to an elderly widow in the frigid Midwest” story (“Small Firey Bloom”). It was haunting, beautiful, and is probably what kept me going after a rough start.

I’m not going to list the others that were as good–without getting into too much detail, it’d be hard to describe my reactions in a meaningful way. But more importantly, anyone who reads this collection is going to end up disagreeing with me about which ones I was knocked out by and which ones I found skippable or pointless.

So, I’ll just leave it with this–there’s a lot of dross in this collection. But there’s also some of the shiniest gold you’re going to find, too. You’ll have to do some sifting, some panning, and maybe even some chiseling to get it–but you’ll be so glad you did.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from the author and Lori Hettler of The Next Best Book Club in exchange for this post and my honest take—thanks to both for this.
 

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

This is a collection of 17 stories—13 taking place in contemporary Japan, and 4 in other parts of the world and other times. 

It’s difficult to describe a common theme or anything with this collection—you’ve got one crime story, one thing that straddles Science Fiction and Contemporary Fiction, and then a few that fall under slice-of-life kind of things. I’d compare them to the shorter works of Raymond Carver, John Cheever, or John Updike—at least in the kind of stories he’s telling, I’m not equipped to talk about literary quality. I will say that I liked most of these better than almost everything I read by those guys. 

Characters in the Stories 

Speaking generally, these stories focus on one person, with 1-3 other characters. I guess that’s frequently the case for short stories in general, but as I read it, this collection felt more focused on an individual or two rather than the outside world. 

With several of these, I have the impression I got to know the protagonist as well as I do some characters in 400-page novels—Green has a real gift for getting us up close and personal to his characters. And, I guess, we really don’t get to know these people all that well—but in the moment, you’ll be convinced you know them better than their own mothers or psychiatrists.* 

* That’s a joke, I can’t imagine any of these people seeing a psychiatrist. Most should, however. 

Mawage 

There’s probably an entire post to be written about the marriages depicted in the book—and, on the whole, the institution doesn’t come out looking to good. There are a couple of exceptions—and one promises to be better soon after the story’s events (thanks to an oddly sympathetic police officer). But, particularly early on, my notes are full of comments about the strange and (often) strained relationships between husband and wife depicted here. 

I will say this—Green is fairly even-handed in what partner is “the problem.” Too many collections like this would tend to paint the wife negatively—or the husband—but Green bounced back and forth between the two. 

Basically, don’t give this as a Valentine’s Day gift. 

So, what did I think about Takeout Sushi? 

Almost every time I talk about a short-story collection, I end up saying something like, “there were some real winners, and some that didn’t do much for me, I expect you’ll find the same (just with a different list of stories in each category).” I hate to repeat myself, buuuuuut… 

Now, those that were real winners were just amazingly good. “Laugh out loud from surprise because you didn’t expect to read something that skillfully done and imaginative” good (and occasionally laugh out loud because of the conclusion). Those that didn’t rise to that level (in my estimation, I stress), did absolutely nothing for me. I even re-read a couple of them to see if I could figure out what I missed—I just didn’t understand the point of them. There was one exception to that—the penultimate story, “The Pool.” It was effective and affective—and completely not for me—but at least I got it. 

A few years ago, I read a short story by Russell Day called “Not Talking Italics.” It blew me away and started a years-long obsession with Day and his shorter and longer pieces. Green’s “Crimes for Dummies” hit me in almost the same way. My note at the end was just one word: Fantastic. A few others were almost as good (“The Choice”)—or better (“Spinning Wheels”). 

I’m not going to say any more about them because it would rid those stories of their punch. But those three more than justify the purchase price of the book—whatever you end up spending on it. 

As usual, I’m more than prepared for people to come along and tell me that “The Pool” was brilliant (and explain why), or that “Spinning Wheels” was silly or derivative of something. Because tastes differ—as they should. 

In any case, I expect that whoever picks up this collection are going to frequently have a real blast with it—and a couple of things to shrug at before diving into the next one that will get them giddy with excitement. 

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from Neem Tree Press and The Write Reads via NetGalley. 

 ★ ★ ★ 1/2 (rounded up)
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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WHAT'S GREAT MINDS ON SMALL THINGS ABOUT?
In 1764, Voltaire published Dictionnaire philosophique. In 1957, Roland Barthes published Mythologies. In 1987, Quiddities: An Intermittently Philosophical Dictionary was published by W. V. Quine. Taking a little something from all of these (and others), in 2023, Matthew Qvortrup brought us Great Minds on Small Things: The Philosophers' Guide to Everyday Life.

This is a (brief) survey of what philosophers from Plato to George Santayana, and several points between (and a little spillover on either side) have to say about topics that aren't usually thought of as subjects of philosophical meditation. More like things discussed over beers with coworkers and friends, pontificated on by stand-up comics, or things that people mutter about on social media between photos of sandwiches or cats.

Rather than the meaning of life, the source of ethics, the nature of the will, or social contracts, Qvortrup collects thoughts on things like artichokes, smoking, hiccups, sports, sports, and more sports. Told with a little bit of humor and a clear familiarity with the thinkers and writers he's covering and quoting, Qvortrup's survey is both entertaining and educational.

THE BREADTH OF TOPICS 
Qvortrup hits on so many things--here's a (very non-exhaustive) list that I compiled to give you a taste (the categories are mine, Qvortrup lists things alphabetically). The things I didn't jot down are just as varied and strange, let me add.

Food/Drink
• Artichoke
• Beer
• Breakfast
• Cheese
• Coffee
• Quiche
• Radishes
• Tea
• Tomato Juice
• Wine

Inventions
• Boilers
• Cars
• Ships
• Telephone

Pets
• Cats
• Dogs



Activities
• Baseball
• Basketball
• Dancing
• Football*
• Being Lazy
• Marriage
• Smoking
• Sneezing
• Tennis
• Wrestling

Human Bodies
• Excrement
• Farting
• Hiccups
• Laughter
• Penis
• Ticklishness
• Urination
• Winking
• Wiping (no, really)
• Yawning

 * Sorry, Americans, he means "soccer."

And, sure, while this is about everyday things, Qvortrup does interact with some of the deeper thinkers in (mostly Western) history, and does end up brushing up against some of their deeper thoughts and categories--so, he includes a glossary to help readers like me get through it all.

ONE PROBLEM WITH THE TONE
Yes, I enjoy writers mixing humor (mild or otherwise) with deeper or controversial topics. Even just a lighter touch to writing is a winner for me. And Qvortrup makes this whole thing really amusing.

Sometimes, however, I had a hard time telling when he was exaggerating for humorous effect or just making a joke and when he was conveying actual information in a whimsical way. It doesn't take away the enjoyment from the reading--it just makes it hard to know what you can repeat in conversation or cite in writing (you know, if you're the kind of person who does that.)

SO, WHAT DID I THINK ABOUT GREAT MINDS ON SMALL THINGS?
I had a great time reading this book--it's a great mix of light reading with some interesting perspectives--and can easily be used as a launching point to further reading or research. "So-and-so used baseball to describe X economic principle, I want to see how that actually works out beyond this quick summary." "Hanna Arendt's personal story seems interesting, especially how it is expressed in Topic Y." It's also just fun to think about names you've read about (or maybe read) debating the type of breakfast that's best for productivity or enjoyment of life.

I do think it's best to dip in and out of the book, and not read from cover-to-cover the way I did. When I return, it will be to look at particular topics (not necessarily the ones I listed above).

My major complaint is the brevity of the book--I don't think most of the entries needed to be longer, I just wanted more entries. Some letters only have one thing listed. Sure, it has to be difficult to find everyday things that philosophers have opined about, but now that Qvortrup has shown us some, it's hard to believe there isn't more to see.

Pick this one up, folks, you'll have a good time. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Rhythm and Clues About? 

An old college acquaintance of Juni Jessup has approached her and her sisters with a proposition—he and his partner will invest in Sip & Spin Records, help it succeed—and take a good portion of the profits. Juni and her old (and maybe future) boyfriend, Beau, attend a hockey game with them for a little wining and dining (or beering and snacking) along with the pitch. It’s not the beginning of a Record Shop Mystery that you’d expect, but it’s pretty fun. 

The fun goes away later that night when a monster storm hits their area, knocking out power to the entire town, and threatening to flood buildings as well. Juni and her older sister dash to their store to try to mitigate the damage there. Before you know it, the event readers were waiting for happens—one of the investors is dead outside their shop and Juni is the one who discovers the body. 

The police warn her off—but the surviving partner has heard of Juni’s previous adventures and asks for her help. Which is convenient—because she wanted to look into the murder anyway. 

The storm has made leaving—or entering—Cedar River impossible for a few days, so the murderer is definitely still around. This could be a problem because it seems that everywhere Juni looks, she finds another suspect with plenty of reasons to want that investor gone. Will she be able to find them before they can get out of town? 

The Investors 

For various and sundry reasons (starting with all the roads being washed out), Juni ends up spending a lot of time with the dead man’s business partner and gets to know their business practices much better than she did during their pitch to Juni (or her sisters). 

While they don’t do anything illegal, and probably not strictly unethical either, there’s something about their methods that just don’t sit right with me (or several others in the novel). As a mystery reader, we get to encounter all sorts of unsavory characters and actions that aren’t necessarily illegal, but sure aren’t good. Very often you wonder how realistic they are while hoping some fiendish writer made it all up out of whole cloth (but secretly knowing they didn’t). I suspect that Blacke is sharing something that came up in her research—or something that people she knows have run into for their own small business. 

I truly hope the latter isn’t the case, because I’m sure people like this exist and people suffer because of them. It makes me glad to not own a business and have to worry about it. 

Juni’s Growth 

She’s been on her own for several years, and until an economic hit at her company led to her coming home, seems to have found some sort of success in life. So you’d think she’d come back to town as an adult—and she does, but she also seems to be largely treated as pretty much the same kid she’s always been. And maybe part of that is just coming back to the place where everyone knows you as that kid you were when you went to college and aren’t ready to accept that you’ve grown up. 

But she’s been coming into her own, little by little, over the course of the series—and arguably arrives in this book. Maybe she’s just more comfortable in her own skin and her old hometown. Maybe it’s the way others see her. Probably a little bit of both. It certainly doesn’t hurt things at all the way she keeps finding herself in the middle of murder cases. 

The important thing is that it’d be easy for Blacke to freeze all the characters so that they’re who we met in Vinyl Resting Place for the rest of the series. But she doesn’t do that—Juni’s the most notable example of this, but there are others, too. I’m so glad that Blacke has taken this path, it opens the door up for more changes, more development—and will keep readers like me engaged with the characters and the stories they find themselves in. 

In my post about the last book, I said, “I do worry that at some point the residents of Cedar River are going to decide that Juni’s the Angel of Death having brought so many murders to town with her.” They still might do that—but so far, they’ve gone in another direction. Particularly the first responders in town. There’s a moment involving them and Juni that got me to laugh out loud. And I don’t know how to say more about it than that. 

Juni’s Drinks 

Blacke’s music pun-inspired coffee drink names are as good here as they’ve ever been, if not better. 

Now, I understand why she doesn’t give us too many per novel. But I think she could give her fans some supplemental material—bonus tracks, if you will—just give us some of the seasonal menus from the time between books. Just throwing that out there as an idea. 

That Moment 

When it comes to a lot of procedurals or other mystery shows on TV there’s a moment where the detective sees something or hears something that a friend/coworker says, they get this look in their eye and they dash out of the room, they’ve got the whole thing solved now. Gregory House was great at these—Temperance Brennan is the other prime example that jumps to mind (but I know there are many others). 

It’s hard to depict those moments in novels, however. But you can still see them happening—Juni has one of those here. Well, she starts to anyway, and something comes along to take her out of the moment. For most/all readers, we won’t get taken out of the moment—if anything, we’ll keep going with it and solve the mystery (or at least get a lot closer to it). Blacke really handled that well—a trick I wish she’d teach others. 

While commending her for this, her creation got on my nerves because of it. Juni took forever to circle back to that breakthrough moment and finish her thought. I was so relieved when it happened without me having to climb into the book and shake her by her shoulders until she’d focus. 

So, what did I think about Rhythm and Clues? 

Blacke is really onto something with these books—this is her best yet, and she shows no signs of slowing down (I hope she gets to keep going). The writing was sharp here, the characterizations—particularly of the investors, and the new people Juni encounters during the case—were on point and vivid, the mystery was her best and twistiest yet. The herrings were a bright and lively red—practically vermillion. The resolution was so, so gratifying. 

This series is quickly becoming a solid favorite of mine—I’m never going to be a giant cozy mystery fan, but when I read one that works as well as this one does, I want to go find more. It’s a very clever and fast read, with some heartfelt emotional moments and it brings a lot of smiles to my face. 

I honestly don’t know of a better way to put it or a better reason to commend it to your attention. Rhythm and Clues was as satisfying a read as you’re going to find. You can jump on here or you can get the first two books in the series and have a good time with them first. Either way, I encourage you to track it down. 

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Rift in the Soul About? 

As is so often the case with books in this series, there’s a lot going on–issues with Nell and her powers, Nell and her sisters/pets/family, and some sort of supernatural-based crime for starters. So this isn’t going to be exhaustive (I hopefully never am, but I felt like I should say that here). 

Nell is summoned to appear before Ming of Glass, the vampire Master of the City. They’ve had an interesting relationship in the past, and from the moment the two encounter each other in these pages you know things are going to be much more so. Because this book happens after the events of Final Heir and Ming and her vampires aren’t quite like they were last time Nell crossed paths with them. 

There’s a body on Ming’s land that she wants Nell to take away and investigate. Her people aren’t responsible for the death–and none of them understand it. As it’s on Ming’s property, it’s a PsyLED problem. 

Before PsyLED can do anything about it, Nell catches the attention of vampires that aren’t associated with Ming. And…I don’t know what else to say about that beyond, drama, violence, and other tense nouns ensue. 

Oh, and in the middle of all this, Nell has to prepare for Christmas with her expanding family and a wedding. Because even for a PsyLED Special Agent, there’s more to life than just ancient vampires on the hunt. 

The Jane Yellowrock Ripples 

I may spill a bit more from the end of the Yellowrock books than people who haven’t finished might like. If that’s you, read this next paragraph and then skip to the next heading, okay? 

As I’ve said frequently when it comes to this series–if you haven’t read the Jane Yellowrock books that it spun off from, you’re going to be okay. You have all the information you need in the Soulwood books. However, if you have read both, you’re going to get a lot more from the series. 

Boy howdy, is that true here. Yes, it seemed like almost everything got resolved and wrapped up in a pretty little bow at the end of the Yellowrock series. Buuuut…there were enough things dangling to make it seem realistic and maybe allow for short stories from those characters and so on–or, for Soulwood to pick them up and do something with them. 

For example–is everything peachy keen in the vampire world now? Is everyone getting along? (I think we know the answer to that) What does it mean for vampires to have their souls back? That’s a bigger question than this book can really answer, but we get a peek into the answers. 

There are some other things, too–but you should find those out for yourself. 

I found this aspect of the novel very satisfying and it scratched an itch I didn’t realize I had. We don’t see Jane or hear from her directly. But we get to hear a vague update on her and a couple of familiar names pop up to help out here. 

The Vampire Tree/The Green Knight/Soulwood 

Every time we readers–or Nell–seem to think we all have reached some solid conclusions about Nell’s abilities and her land, Hunter comes along, shakes her head at our naiveté, and shows us how little we actually get. 

This is all the clearer when it comes to The Vampire Tree and The Green Knight persona. As both seem to be developing and evolving, it’s understandable that we (readers and Nell) keep being surprised. It’s also kind of nice that we can’t get complacent. Nell was rocked by some of what she experiences in this book–and, reader, you will be, too. You will almost certainly want more details–like 4+ bonus chapters just about these things (you’ll know them when you see them), and will likely have a couple of dozen questions to ask Nell and/or Hunter. 

But wait, there’s more. We get to see the way that Mud and Esther connect to all this–and it is not precisely the same way that Nell does. 

Fans are going to sink their teeth and/or claws into this aspect of the book–and might not care that much about the plot in contrast to this. Well, that might be overstating it–but many fans would be content to hit “pause” on the action for a bit to focus on it. 

Speaking of things that we readers think we understand… 

As one would expect, things (outside of Nell’s personal life) bring us back to God’s Cloud of Glory Church/cult/compound. We end up circling back to events of Blood of the Earth and Curse on the Land in troubling ways. This leads Nell to rethink some of the theories and conclusions she reached back then, and to ask uncomfortable questions. 

It’s only when you get a series to this kind of length that it becomes this rewarding to come back and take a second look at things like this (sorry for the vagueness). But in the light of these new circumstances, it’s good that we readers and Nell get that second look. It really pays off. 

I wouldn’t mind a little less from this group in the future, but I don’t know if that’s possible given the way this series has been build. (at the same time, I don’t mind seeing them, I’m just worried that it’s becoming a rut) 

So, what did I think about Rift in the Soul? 

I don’t want to overstate this, but I’m not sure how I could. Nor am I going to explain this. No future Soulwood book is going to be like the ones that came before this one. Yes, yes, yes–the crimes, the monsters, the magic in each is a different kind of problem. But beyond all that, there’s a lot to each of these books that take on similar shapes, and patterns–just in the characters, but outside that, too. That all changes here. 

And it’s a good thing–as comfortable as it is to watch the same set of investigators run down leads, do some magic, shift into wereforms/other shifts, and so on. A good, healthy series grows and develops–like, a garden or a forest (golly, why would someone think in botanical terms when it comes to this series?). 

Rift in the Soul acts as a pivot point, or maybe a stepping stone between versions of these two (let’s go with a stepping stone, so I don’t have to keep hearing Ross Geller yell “PIVOT!” in the back of my mind). There are some hellos, some goodbyes, some…”huh, that’s new.” (some of which I alluded to above, a lot I haven’t). This novel acts as a cap and a launching pad at the same time for the series. 

It’s tough to consider this book without reference to that, honestly, because so much of the warp and woof of the novel is that. But let’s try: you’ve got some solid vampire action, you’ve got strange vampire action, too. Some great action scenes. Good, strong character development. Solid emotional beats that are well-executed and earned. Things might not be the same soon, but for now, this is a good time with your group of friends. 

Obviously, I don’t recommend this as a jumping-on point for the series, but it would be okay if you decided to. (but don’t, go back to the beginning). I think you’ll like the time in this world. But for people who’ve been with Nell and her team/work family/blood family since the beginning? You’re going to walk away very pleased. 

Oh, one last note before I go: Faith Hunter/Publishers: Mud deserves at least a solo-novella. You’ve got something great here, use it. (unless you wanted to team her up with Jane Yellowrock’s Angie)