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Cibola Burn - James S.A. Corey

I approached this new book in my favorite space-opera series with a mix of excitement and apprehension: no need to explain the former, of course, but the latter came from the fear that after a compelling trilogy the authors might somehow slacken their pace. So it's with extreme satisfaction that I can now say that Cibola Burn maintains the same level of excellence of its predecessors and even manages to surpass them - not a mean feat, indeed.

The narrative thread of the alien protomolecule, that was the principal device in the first three books in the series, now takes second place in favor of a more human focus: after opening a gate near Uranus, one that led toward uncountable habitable worlds, the alien construct almost fades in the background of humanity's expansionist struggle.  A ship of refugees from Ganymede lands on Earth-like Ilus, establishing a colony and starting mining operations on the planet's rich lithium deposits. The major corporations also send a scientific mission that is in truth the attempt at a foothold on the new world, provoking the colonists' dramatic reaction. The UN and OPA (Outer Planets Alliance) decide to send Holden and the Rocinante's crew as mediators before the situation escalates beyond control. The problem is, the planet itself also becomes a player, and soon enough all hell breaks loose.

In the first trilogy the social and political tension between older and more established power bases and the colonies of the Asteroid did play a major role, with the almost-racial slur attached to being a Belter - different in body, thinner and elongated due to life in microgravity; and different in language, an almost incomprehensible dialect concocted from many Earth dialects - creating new kinds of chasm among humans.

Here that tension comes to the fore in a most dramatic way.  When the RCE (Royal Charter Energy) mission lands on Ilus, the confrontation between them and the Belter colonists goes beyond the struggle for the rights to exploit the planet's resources and turns into a racial war: so far from civilized space, where there are no laws and no one to enforce them, only the strongest, most determined and - of course - more ruthless can hold sway.   One of the more chilling segments of the book is the one where the RCE ship's technicians start training in a sort of militia that keeps ready in case of insurrection from the despised Belter members of the crew.  The "us and them" mentality, the growing suspicions, the plans for wanton destruction as a means to annihilate the "enemy",  all add to an already explosive mix.

This power keg he's been sent to defuse acts on Holden's behavior in an unexpected and interesting way: until now, we've seen him as a man with a strong moral compass and willing to go out of his way to do what he perceives as right. Yet the situation on Ilus is all but clean-cut, and the need to deal with many shades of gray and conflicting sympathies tests Holden's mettle in more ways than one.  I must admit that this new uncertainty made him a more sympathetic character in my eyes: the larger-than-life aura that past events created around him, somehow obscured the real nature of the man. Here, tested by warring loyalties, the drives of his conscience and several life-threatening circumstances, the real person comes through more clearly, and he becomes far more likable than he appeared in the past.

On the other hand, Murtry - his main opponent and RCE's chief of security, is the kind of villain everyone loves to hate: a man with a single focus, one who doesn't care about collateral damage as long as the job gets done. I enjoyed this part of his character and the way he didn't change even when the situation on Ilus hit him as hard as anyone else – to do otherwise would have represented a betrayal of his psychological makeup, IMHO, so I appreciated this choice. What I didn't like were the shades of mustache-twirling that appeared now and then: for me they detracted from the general effect, even though they were not enough to ruin a well-thought-out personality.

Speaking of characters, the whole crew of the Rocinante is put through the grinder here, not just Holden: this small, tightly-knit group has always been the main driving force of the story, so it's interesting to see them separated by the circumstances, having to rely on other people and therefore tested as individuals rather than the family they have grown into. It's not just a fascinating look at their personalities, it's also a great narrative choice that keeps raising already hight stakes.  Yes, because the authors here spared no punches: there were several instances where I literally cried out in dismay at the new dangers the characters were forced to face.  The main strength of the novel, and its main page-turning impulse, come exactly from this terrifying escalation that plays out as entirely believable - both in storytelling and in pacing - and leads you to the conclusion through a breathless chain of events.

And last but not least, the final chapter opens a totally new scenario, one that made me understand that this book - good as it was - was just laying the ground for more, much more.  On one side I was happy to see again Bobbie Draper and Crisjen Avarasala, two of my favorite characters from previous novels, on the other, the conversation between them and Avarasala's words about the real motivation for sending Holden to Ilus changed the rules of the game in a major way. What awaits the readers in the next installments is an unexpected scenario that promises more trouble than whatever the protomolecule might have generated.

If you have not approached The Expanse until now, I urge you to do that: it's rare to find a series that manages to reinvent itself with each new book, and rarer still to find one that knows how to keep storytelling fresh and engrossing. Here you will find all this, and more.


My Rating: 9/10

In a Right State - Ben Ellis

I received this book from the author in exchange for an honest review.

In A Right State is a peculiar book, far from easy to review.  In a nutshell, it's a dystopian twist on a future Great Britain, one where corporations rule the country and everything is focused on business and profit.  The story opens, quite intriguingly, on one of the main characters, Duncan, as he follows with some trepidation the auction of his deceased wife's body parts: in a time when the wasteful past (our present) has been replaced by a heightened consciousness of our resources, CO2 emissions have been eliminated and solar power rules, the environmental cost of a burial or a cremation is unthinkable, hence the auctioning off of a body for research purposes. Waste not, want not.

The problem is, Duncan has a little secret that close examination of his wife's body will reveal: he grows real, organic vegetables in a plot under his home – and that makes him an outlaw, because only OGM food is the accepted norm, or rather the law. So he destroys the underground garden and runs away with a few bags of precious seeds, with the corporate police hot on his heels. 

Amy, on the other hand, is the dutiful employee of a major corporation – she might not be happy about her non-existent career prospects, but she keeps being the good drone she's been taught to be, until the day her innocent workplace association with deceased Nicole – Duncan's wife – puts her under suspicion, and she decides to burn all bridges behind her, taking Duncan along in a mad flight that will put them in contact with the mysterious Colonel, a man who seems hell-bent on undermining the system. A sort of Renaissance man in a culture that has forgotten literature, music, stage plays and movies, because the only "creative" writing is whatever goes into product promotion.  But maybe even the Colonel not as good, or as selfless as he seems...

Intriguing? Yes. The premise, starting with that weird, so very weird scene about the auction, is a sound one and some details are even chillingly realistic: take for example the constant commercial ads (the only form of entertainment in this future society), the violation of privacy that allows those ads to be played at any time in your house or while you're taking a walk, whether you want it or not – these phenomena are something that we can observe right now, although on a far smaller scale. Have you ever been tormented by constant calls from phone companies offering you great opportunities for voice and internet access, or pestered by sellers of other products? So you know what I mean...

Yet this very interesting premise at some point became lost, for me, in the uncertain mood of the story, that alternates between seriousness and tongue-in-cheek fun, in a sort of Hellzapoppin-like sequence of sketches that made me often wonder if there was a definite sense of direction. There are also long stretches of exposition (the chapter where the Colonel is introduced is one of the clearest examples), and more often than not we are told about the characters' feelings and reactions, but almost never shown. I've often wondered if this story wanted to be a sarcastic cautionary tale about the dangers in the path our society is taking, or if we were meant to be worried and take it as a dire warning.  The first few chapters of the book also suffer from some instances of mixed tenses, adding to the general bafflement I mentioned above and that is compounded by narrative contradictions that quite bothered me: for example, if there is such a constant control on citizen activity (satellites, DNA scans and other means that would make the NSA guys envious), how could Duncan build the complicated underground garden and its equally complicated camouflage mechanism?

Despite the danger, despite the number of people pursuing our "heroes" with a vast array of technological gadgets, they rarely seem to take their plight seriously, finding the time for some well-delivered prank and witty repartee.  This would seem to point toward a lighter-toned narrative, but the bloody horror and anguish of the end of the book turn this notion on its head, only to offer again a brief glimmer of sincere hope with the last sentence...

I'm confused. Or probably unable to see the point because of some inherent lack of perspective.

Not a bad book in itself, on the contrary it was a quick, interesting read, but despite that I could not… pin it down, for want of a better word.


My Rating: 6,5/10


GOODREADS review

AMAZON review

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The Girl With All the Gifts - M. R. Carey

Horror is indeed a delicate medium to work with: the slightest misstep in storytelling can tip the balance either into unadulterated blood-and-gore or into grotesque mockery. This is not the case, not by a long shot, and I'm in awe of M.R. Carey's ability to spin such a deep tale of love and discovery out of a quite horrifying premise.

Melanie is a ten year old, very gifted girl whose admiration for her favorite teacher Ms. Justineau knows no bounds: the woman has enthralled Melanie with ancient myths and stories of the outside world the little girl has never seen. Yes, because Melanie and her classmates live in an underground complex, kept in cells when school is not on, and brought to class securely bound in wheelchairs...   It does not take the reader long to perceive the truth about the situation: the world has fallen prey to an epidemic that turns people into zombies, and the children of Melanie's class are test subjects in the search for a cure, because although infected, they are still capable of thought, reasoning, learning.  When all hell breaks loose, this special child will embark on a "hero's journey" that will require from her a very difficult balance between mindless instincts, willpower and the deep love she feels for her teacher.

I don't dare reveal more about this story, because it would be a huge disservice to any potential readers: even though tropes like massive pandemics, the zombie apocalypse and the crossing of a survivor group through devastated lands have been often employed, M.R. Carey managed to weave them into new shapes while creating an engrossing tale that is both a coming-of-age story and an exploration of the human soul. 

The focus is of course on Melanie - the girl with all the gifts, or Pandora, a name with several layers of meaning here - but the story is also told through different points of view, keeping it both lively and multi-faceted: besides the main protagonist there are Ms. Justineau, teacher and mother figure whose strong feelings for Melanie trespass the boundaries of her assigned task and have their roots into a past tragedy; Sergeant Parks, hardened and cynical soldier who sees Melanie only as a "hungry" (the book's name for the zombies) and not a child; Dr. Caldwell, single-minded scientist in search of a cure at any cost; Private Gallagher, born after the Collapse, a mixture of violated innocence and hero worship for Parks.  These brief descriptions might sound like well-known and well-used character traits, but in the course of the book they are often turned into unexpected directions, and can reserve a few surprises, because the author is quite skilled in delivering sudden twists and turns to his narrative.  One such example is the origin of the infection, the crossing of the species boundaries by a kind of fungus, Ophiocordyceps, that usually attacks ants, taking hold of their nervous system so that the ants are literally compelled to move away from their grounds until they reach a more suitable location for the fungus, that then proceeds to grow from the doomed ant's body.  One of the most horrifying sections of the book is the description of the next level of fungal propagation from the hapless hosts to the larger environment, an image that will certainly haunt my imagination for a long time.

Young Melanie, the protagonist, is indeed an innocent in more ways than one: all she knows of the outside world comes from books and the reader understands soon enough that her ignorance of the real state of things settles a further layer of innocence around her - and yet there is a core of maturity to this child that takes hold of her actions, once she and the others are forced to leave the dubious security of the army base, and ultimately brings her into a leading role of sorts.  The world outside belongs to the infected, and Melanie finds herself in the unique position of being a go-between or a last line of defense for the handful of surviving adults: the calm, accepting way in which she deals with her nature, and what's more important the maturity with which she finds a middle ground between nature and nurture, make her a compelling character, one that stands out in sharp detail. 

For this very reason I was able to accept the unexpected ending, one that feels both terrifying and right: like the titular Pandora, Melanie does ultimately open the mythical vase and unleash its contents, but at the same time the book's ending brings a glimmer of hope for the future. A very changed future, granted, but one that promises to be peopled by much more than mindless, fungus-driven specters.

A brilliant, powerful ending for a book that will remain with me for a long time - one that I can't recommend enough, even if your reading tastes are far from this genre: I promise that it will surprise you in many ways, and touch you deeply.


My Rating: 8/10

The October Daye Series - Seanan McGuire

When I discovered the Newsflesh Trilogy by Mira Grant, I learned that she is the alter-ego for Seanan McGuire, Urban Fantasy writer, and I was of course curious: until that moment, my attempts at reading this particular genre had not ended well - the books I happened to pick up seemed centered on repeating clichés and cookie-cutter characters, so that I was convinced Urban Fantasy was not my cup of tea.  But Mira Grant's writing prompted me to give the genre another try: now, after seven books in the October Daye series, I'm very happy I did, because Seanan McGuire is the kind of author who gives Urban Fantasy a good name, to paraphrase the old song.

October "Toby" Daye is a San Francisco private investigator, and also a changeling - half human and half fae, therefore never fully belonging to either world: the fae generally despise mixed bloods, their contempt in inverse proportion to the percentage of fae blood in any changeling, while humans must be kept in ignorance of the differences - some subtle, some less so - in their appearance, because the secret of faerie's existence is to be kept at all costs.  When we meet Toby for the first time, she's chosen her human side and tries to build a normal life for herself: a husband, a child, a job she enjoys.  But one of her investigations crosses the purposes of a powerful fae who transforms her into a fish, condemning her to several years of this limbo while the world goes on without her.  Once the enchantment wears off, Toby's family has adapted to her sudden disappearance and moved on, and she finds herself alone and adrift, with no clear purpose in life and a defeated attitude that leaves little room for hope in her future.  It's only through her reluctant involvement with the fae world, due to a brutal murder she's asked to investigate, that she starts - slowly and painfully - to come out of her shell, and to gain a new lease on life as she rebuilds herself literally from scratch, collecting friends and allies along the way.

The first book in the series, though still fascinating, feels somewhat slow,  so I urge any potential reader to overlook that and to stay on board for the ride - it's the same advice I followed when I started, and I'm glad I did: this series gets better and better with each following book.  The world-building expands in concentric circles, creating a fascinating tapestry out of the intersecting - but never really touching - realities of our primary world and faerie, and presenting a huge variety of fae and changelings, all with their individual traits that make them alien in appearance and abilities, and at the same time very human in their passions and desires.  With each following book I've become more and more invested in these stories and characters, in the parallel world of faerie, with its complicated, often cruel politics and interweaving alliances, with its powerful allure. And of course I've become invested in Toby, her slowly growing family and her evolving personality - the clear trend of this series is growth, and I've found my initial patience more than amply rewarded.

What makes Toby special? First there is her single-mindedness: once she sets on a task, she pursues it with relentless determination, learning from the mistakes she makes along the way. Yes, she's not perfect, and that's another detail that endeared her to me - she's flawed, and fallible and accident-prone: unlike the cookie-cutter heroines I mentioned above, Toby is far from the all-powerful-ninja-warrior that seems the norm in this genre. She gets hurt, she bleeds, and she pays dearly for missing important clues, or for trusting people she shouldn't or not listening to sound advice.  There's something approaching a death wish in her, more evident at the beginning and lessening as the story goes on. Or if not a death wish, then a grim determination in completing her chosen tasks, in fulfilling the obligations she takes upon herself with little or no regard for personal consequences, an attitude that speaks volumes about her psychological make up and also explains the strong loyalty she engenders in the individuals gathering around her like planets around a sun.

What's more, Toby manages all that in spite of her shortcomings as a changeling - on the contrary, she turns what pureblood fae consider a limitation into her main strength: she can go where individuals of both worlds cannot, she can perform feats denied to others. In short, Toby non only does not make any excuses for what she is not, but shows the world - both worlds - that strength can come from those very differences.  And she pays the price for it every day, by giving of herself for the sake of others, with constant demonstrations of dogged selflessness.

With these premises, and McGuire's fresh outlook on the genre, it's hardly surprising that these books are gathering increasing success and acclaim: my direct experience is that they deserve it in full.  Let yourselves be captured: you will not regret it.



My Rating: 8,5/10

The Lions of Al-Rassan - Guy Gavriel Kay

My (admittedly limited) experience with G.G. Kay's writing has led me to believe that there's only a 50:50 chance I might like one of his books: I enjoyed Tigana, but when I briefly attempted to read the first volume of the Fionavar Tapestry I found it impossible to accept its premises or to get a real feel for the characters.  (On this point I have to say that a long e-mail discussion with my friend Susan brought me to reconsider and give Fionavar a second chance, because I thought that if a book can elicit such an eloquent and passionate defense from a person whose judgment I trust, I can't turn a blind eye on it).  But I'm digressing…

The Lions of Al-Rassan is, on the other hand, a beautiful story, one that held my attention from start to finish, even though it's not immune from some shortcomings - so I guess that the 50:50 rule does indeed apply.

Characters represent the strong foundation of this novel, fashioned after the era when modern-day Spain was a territory shared by Christians and Muslims and also held a flourishing, if constantly endangered, Jewish community. Here these different cultures are represented respectively by Jaddites, Asharites and Kindath, and embodied by Rodrigo Belmonte (a fearless soldier who is almost a legend of the land), Ammar ibn Khairan (poet, warrior and scholar, all rolled into one) and Jehane bet Ishak (dedicated doctor and strong-willed woman of startling modernity). The dynamics behind these characters, the events that shape their story, the complex bonds of love, friendship and loyalty that tie them together as much as drive them apart in a sort of shifting dance, all contribute to make this book the fascinating read that it is: following them as they deal with the unfolding drama of a divided land, trying and failing to find an acceptable balance, is a constant discovery, helped along by G.G. Kay's rich and elegant narrative. These main characters come across as real, breathing people, and it did not take long for me to grow attached to them, and care for their well-being, as well as that of a few equally unforgettable secondary players, like young Alvar, who is enrolled in Belmonte's company dreaming of war and glory and soon discovers the darker side of a soldier's life; or merchant Husari, who is both shrewd and humorous; or again Miranda, Belmonte's wife, an iron lady whose appearances were much too limited and distanced for my tastes.  Just to name a few, of course.

The throes of a country struggling to find a new shape and a different balance represent the other fascinating magnet of the novel: for a long time Asharites and Jaddites have vied for supremacy with one another, while battling among themselves for power, in a constantly shifting political landscape in which the third party, the Kindath, are trying to survive, always on the lookout for a change in the wind, always dealing with the certainty of the next blow that will fall from above. This side of the story is incredibly modern: to this very day, our world still struggles under the weight of conflicting beliefs - be they political or religious - and there are always those who suffer because they are crushed between rocks and hard places that are too big to avoid. In this the book manages very well to elude the pedantic quicksand of allegory, and presents the reader with a subtle commentary on the human condition, and how certain drives shape our actions and their consequences - it makes you stop and think.

But... There is indeed a "but", because some of G.G. Kay's choices in telling this story ruined the overall effect for me.

For example, there are several instances in which he leads the reader to believe that a certain character has been killed: for a good number of pages we observe the scene unfolding under our eyes and the offered clues point to a particular person, only to arrive at the final denouement and discover that it was someone else. The first time that happened I was torn between shock for the unexpected revelation and irritation at having been led astray for so long: somehow it lessened the impact of the actual loss - a character I liked very much, by the way - because I was too busy being annoyed at the deception.  When it happened again I was angry: in my opinion, an author should not make excessive use of such devices - fool me once, ok; fool me twice... I lose all faith in you.  And that's not the end of it, because G.G. Kay did it once more toward the end of the book, in what should have been the epic encounter that symbolizes the clash of two worlds. But at that point, even the most distracted reader would have been alert and suspicious as I was, not to mention offended by the cheap trick.

To make matters worse, too many events are presented in the form of a teaser (for want of a better word), where a few sibylline words create a cliffhanger, then the story traces back to return - often at a leisurely pace - at the focal point and the resolution of the story-thread: again, it is a valid narrative tool, no argument about that, but it should not be abused in the way it was in this novel.  And last but not least, the epilogue feels somewhat pedantic, with a great deal of explanation and back-story I really had no need for - and let's not forget a few parting "surprise" revelations, just for the sheer fun of it...

For these reasons I can't give this book the rating that story and characters should deserve: this could have been a 8/10  or a 9/10 book, but even the finest meal would lose some of its flavor if it was served on a chipped plate, would it not?


My Rating: 7/10

The Newsflesh Trilogy - Mira Grant

Mira Grant (that is, Seanan McGuire) just announced the arrival of a new short story in her Newsflesh universe, so - in what is becoming something of a tradition for me - I thought about retracing my reading experience with her previous novels.

Zombies were not exactly my kind of narrative trope: not on the screen and certainly not in book form. So I'm still unsure about what made me pick up the first book of Mira Grant's Newsflesh Trilogy: probably some glowing review that underlined how different it was from the usual fare - no matter the reason, after the first few pages I was hooked, and at the same time discovered a new author, one that's quickly entered my "buy whatever comes out" list.

Mira Grant is the pen name of Urban Fantasy author Seanan McGuire - I plan on recapping soon her still ongoing, successful series about private investigator October Daye, but for now I'll concentrate on the alter ego who created this stunning, ground-breaking trilogy: Feed, Deadline and Blackout.

The premise: twenty-odd years from now the world will be dramatically changed by a zombie epidemic whose origins come from the accidental interaction of two experimental viral cures for cancer and the common cold. Exposure to this mutated virus (Kellis-Amberlee, from the names of the two scientists working on the projects) does indeed cure the targeted ailments but also resuscitates the dead - in the Newsflesh world it's called "amplification".  There are two short stories that expand on this premise, and I recommend them both to better understand the train of events: one is Countdown (the tale of the incident that started it all) and the other is San Diego 2014: the last stand of the California Browncoats (the start of the epidemic seen through the eyes of the famous convention's participants).

The ground-breaking choices I mentioned come from the fact that the usual bloody scenarios of a zombie apocalypse are strictly kept as background information: yes, the un-dead move around searching for victims - not so much to consume their flesh but rather to spread the contagion, in a sort of viral prime directive - and there are whole sections of the world made uninhabitable by the concentration of zombies, but what Mira Grant focuses on is not the cheap thrill of blood-and-gore images but rather the way people and society have changed because of the epidemic.

Amplification has forced people to completely review their way of living: houses have become fortresses capable of withstanding massive attacks from the un-dead; pets above a certain body weight - say a small dog - are out of the question, because above that limit they are subject to amplification just as humans are, and the phenomenon extends, of course, to other common animals as cows or horses, whose mass makes them as deadly as infected people.  And then there is the terrible choice that everyone must be prepared to face: when one of your loved ones, or friends, dies and then amplifies before your eyes, you have to decide between survival and the impulses of your heart.  How would that change the unwritten laws of society?  How would it affect ethics and morality?

Fear is therefore the main driving force of society: fear of the infected, of course, but also fear of excessive proximity or crowded areas - someone dying of a heart attack in a crowd could amplify and start a new outbreak; fear of contagion, that requires constant blood checks before entering any enclosed space, be it a coffee shop or one's own home; fear of whatever and whoever can't be controlled.  An enlightening quote summarizes the situation all too well: "...we have embraced the cult of fear, and now we don't seem to know how to put it back where it belongs."  Fear can also be a powerful means of control, because a scared and divided humanity is much more easily subdued - or lied to.

The antithesis of fear is truth, and its… paladins, for want of a better word, are bloggers: the first to recognize the threat of the virus and to spread the word when the government still hid behind carefully worded statements. Bloggers are, at the start of the story, a force to be reckoned with, and the new heroes of a world that keeps turning in upon itself with every passing day.  Enter Georgia and Shaun Mason, highly successful bloggers who have been selected, together with their team, to follow the presidential campaign of candidate Ryman: this represents an enormous opportunity for visibility, but it will also lead them along very unexpected and terrifying paths.

This is all I dare reveal about the story, because its hair-raising twists and turns must be discovered on their own: suffice it to say there is not one moment when the tension lets go, and where drama is delivered without pulling any punches - no matter how painful they can be to the readers.

What really matters, and what I can safely share here, is that it's a fascinating look at a profoundly changed society, and also a character-driven narrative that will keep you on your toes from start to finish.

Not the easiest of books, granted, nor something I would recommend before bedtime either - but still I urge you to read them, because Mira Grant's storytelling and powerful characters are worth the extra effort needed to find the necessary strength to do it.

My Rating: 8,5/10

The Expanse Trilogy - James S. A. Corey

James S.A. Corey is the pseudonym for authors Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck, the first best known for his Long Price Quartet and Dagger and the Coin series, and the second for his collaboration with GRR Martin.  Together they have penned one of the best space opera series I ever read and, to my extreme satisfaction, are hard at work on a second one: talking with Mulluane from Dragons, Heroes and Wizards about the new book, I thought it was a good idea to share a few details about the first three volumes, so here we go…

What makes these books stand out is the human dimension of backgrounds and characters: the words space opera often make us think about vast empires, galaxy-spanning wars and wondrous technology, but this is not the case here. The theatre where the action unfolds is our own Solar System in an advanced stage of colonization, where the older and more established outposts - like the Moon or Mars - enjoy a comfortable way of life, while the newer ones, like the civilization growing in the Asteroid Belt, still deal with problems like microgravity and its deep effects on human physiology, or the rising prices of air and water in a hostile environment.  Political and economical tensions are always one step away from flaring into all-out conflict, and there are forces working - more or less covertly - to tip the balance one way or the other.  Add to that a few realistic details like communications lag across vast distances or the problems of space travel, which requires a constant battle against the pain of acceleration - endured through the use of drugs - and you have a very relatable universe, as are the characters that people it.

Summing up the story is far from easy, especially when trying to avoid any spoilers, so I'm not even going to try. The first book, Leviathan Wakes, follows mainly two characters: Miller – a middle-aged police officer who has lost all his drive and motivations, and wakes up only when what looks like an open-and-shut case he's been assigned turns into something else, something both suspicious and frightening; and Holden, ex military now working on an ice cargo hauler: he's the kind of person who wants to do the right thing, to be a good guy, and more often than not makes huge mistakes, with unpredictable consequences. The novel alternates chapters between these points of view until the two men meet and face an unforeseen danger that adds some touches of horror to the story.  The other two books, Caliban's War and Abaddon's Gate, expand on this core theme, widening the picture to include complex political scheming tied with economic interests, and convoluted games of power that still dare to go on despite an all-encompassing menace.

All this, however, is just background - a solid background, granted, that helps move the story along, often in unexpected directions. The real focus is on characters, on the way they deal with events, on the way physiological and mental changes affect people from the different habitats where human expansion brought them.  One of the interesting aspects I encountered is indeed in these differences, because the physiological adaptation that has made the Belters thinner and taller than Earth norm, seems to have created a sort of racial differentiation that goes beyond skin color. In other words, we might go to space someday, but we will still bring our short-sightedness and prejudices along with us…

Most importantly, though, the novels deal with choices, with the often tragic consequences engendered by those choices, even when they are made with the best of intentions. Because we all know what paves the road to Hell, after all…

Holden, and his crew of almost-rogues, embody that concept very well: enmeshed against their will in something too big for them to handle, they try to do their best with the limited options at their disposal. In the first book there's a marked antithesis between Holden and Miller, between idealism and the need to set things right on one side, and tired cynicism on the other, the bitter acceptance of the impossibility of seeing the "good guys" win. Despite their differences - or maybe because of them - these two men form a strange alliance that will be the one of the driving forces of the story.

This focus on humanity goes on in the following books, exploring more deeply the characters of Holden's crew - a closely-knit group for whom I felt an immediate attachment - and several other players, big and small, who feel as fleshed-out and solid as the main protagonists. A special mention goes to the female characters, that the authors created without using a single strand of cliché in their DNA: Naomi, of the Rocinante's crew, smart, though and outstandingly excellent in her job, gifted with a wry sense of humor; Martian marine Bobbie, steadfast and powerful, a fighter in more ways than one, but still possessed of a softer side; shrewd politician Avarasala, who knows how to wield her power, and can cuss like a hardened sailor; minister Anna, gifted with a steel resolve under the caring attitude.  They are far from perfect, but I liked them exactly for this reason - because they feel real.

Given that each of the separate books of the trilogy managed to raise already hight stakes, it's hardly surprising I was waiting with feverish anticipation to read the next installment (the first in a new trilogy, according to what I've read online): even though the main narrative threads have been brought to an end, many more have appeared and they would seem to point to a further widening of the picture, both in scope and in setting.   Cybola Burn, the fourth volume, came out on June 5^th and so far it looks very promising so… stay tuned for the forthcoming review!

My Rating: 9/10

Sparrow Hill Road - Seanan McGuire

With this book, Seanan McGuire managed to surprise me once again: her main character, Rose Marshall, appeared as a "guest star" in the short story The Ghosts of Bourbon Street, and because of the tone of that story and its loose link with the Incryptid series, I thought this novel would be in the same light, half-serious, half-humorous tone. But I was wrong.

Sparrow Hill Road is a ghost story, one that carries all of the sadness and poignancy of those who dwell in the twilight and long for life: it does so in a touching, often lyrical way that touched me quite deeply with the melancholic beauty of the words I was reading. McGuire outdid herself here, both as a story-teller and as a writer, reaching out of the pages to affect both my imagination and my heart.

Rose Marshall died in a car accident when she was sixteen years old, headed to her prom night: driven off the road by Bobby Cross - who had signed a sort of devil pact, to keep his youth and good looks, in exchange for human sacrifices - Rose discovered that the afterlife was not what she had imagined. For over sixty years she's been a ghostly hitchhiker, accepting rides from travelers to try and steer them from certain death or, when that's inevitable, to speed them on their way over the twilight roads.

The story presents some fascinating details about Rose's existence (strange as the term might appear): she's incorporeal, as any ghost should be, but the gift of an item of clothing - a jacket, a coat - freely given to her, can lend her substance and make her feel alive again. She is able to consume food, but that has to be given as a gift as well, or it will have no taste. These drawbacks, shared with the reader in half-humorous, half-sad narrative, coexist with a background of longing for life, warmth, human closeness, and define her character in a poignant way that nevertheless does not slide into self-pity or useless regrets. Matter-of-fact acceptance, tinged with both sadness and irony, is what makes Rose the person (or ghost) that she is, one gifted with a clear, strong voice that immediately endeared her to me: McGuire struck a perfect balance here between her teenager appearance and her world-wise (and sometimes world-weary) attitude, giving her a three-dimensional and realistic depth.

Following Rose through her peregrinations we discover that there is no safety even in death: the world of the departed is fraught with dangers just as much as that of the living, and it obeys its own set of rules. What's interesting - or rather fascinating - is the way both worlds intersect and how many people, living people, are able to perceive the twilight world and interact with it.  Along with a wide range of incorporeal entities - some good, some evil, some in-between - we meet route-witches, a gypsy-like community of travelers whose strength comes from the long miles accumulated during their peregrinations, or bean-sidhe like the mysterious Emma, neither alive nor dead but gifted with unusual powers.

Here McGuire has taken many of he traditional ghost myths and woven them into a new and special form of folklore, one that is structured around an organic set of rules and traditions and blends with the living world's beliefs (both right and wrong ones) in a fascinating way. The strongest theme is that of travel, one of the deep-seated tropes of American narrative, of the road as another character in the story: there are almost-sentient roads here, some good, some bad, and like in the old myth of the unexplored frontier, there are places of safety and rest - the ever-present truck stops and diners.
Often placed on the border between the two planes of existence, these places are both ports for weary travelers of both kinds and nodes where everything is possible, or destinies hang in the balance.  One of the descriptions that stuck in my mind for its lyrical quality was indeed related to one such diner and its lighted beacon:

"the rainbow gleam of neon struggling to paint the night in something more than darkness"

The book itself is more a collection of stories, or sketches, tied together by the common thread represented by Rose and weaving from past to present in a seamless and gripping way. There are fear and terror, wonder, longing and sadness and humor as well. There is also a deeply touching goodbye, in the last section, that brought me to tears - and that's something that does not happen often to me.

This is Seanan McGuire at her best - and getting better, no matter what kind of story she chooses to tell…




My Rating: 8,5/10

Soulless - Gail Carriger

What a delightful, funny find!

Before I read this book, my few encounters with steampunk had not been very successful, and I was convinced that this genre was not for me: well, Gail Carriger's Soulless (the first in the Parasol Protectorate series) changed my mind from the very beginning of Chapter One.   After all, how could I resist a heroine who, seeing herself repeatedly assaulted by a hungry vampire, was shocked not so much by the attack as by the fact that “We have not even been introduced!”?

But let's proceed with order: Alexia Tarabotti lives in Victorian England - a country where vampires, werewolves and even ghosts are accepted as part of the society, as long as they conform to a series of rules dictated by BUR, the Bureau of Unnatural Registry. Part of the fun I derived from this book came from the descriptions of this strictly regimented community, with its vampire hives and werewolf packs, and regulations governing even the roves - unaffiliated vampires or werewolves. The humans observe this parallel world and its peculiar ways with the same amused curiosity we would reserve for actors, or sports stars, just to name some examples: the supernaturals are so well integrated that their differences are accepted as fascinating quirks, and are of course the subject of dinner-party gossip, but never of open fear or rejection.

Ms. Tarabotti, however, has several problems fitting into society: she's a spinster in her mid-twenties, she likes to speak her mind in no uncertain terms, her deceased father was Italian - thus bestowing on her a very unfashionable coloring and full figure - and what's worse she's a preternatural. In other words, she possesses no soul, so that contact with her can remove the supernatural qualities of other creatures: werewolves turn back into human form, vampires lose their canines, and so on.

In a world where it's been discovered that an abundance of soul is the deciding factor for surviving the change from normal human to supernatural creature, a person like Alexia is the object of both distrust and curiosity from the non-humans, thus adding to her isolation. She bears that well enough though, having created for herself a circle of friendships that include two of the best supporting characters in the book: Lord Akeldama, an old vampire quite fond of young and good-looking male minions, and Ivy, totally human but too fond of truly terrible hats. 

This balance is broken on the night of the vampire assault, because Alexia is forced to kill him in self-defense: this brings her into contact with BUR and its chief, the Alpha werewolf Lord Maccon who, despite his protestations and the heated verbal exchanges between the two of them, is quite attracted to this unusual woman.  The ensuing adventure, involving a dastardly scheme against the supernaturals, is tied to the inevitably developing love story between the two of them: I can say this without fear of spoiling any prospective readers, because the outcome is clear from their first encounter - what really matters here, what makes this book an entertaining, delightful read, is the way it's all handled.  With spirited humor and many unconventional narrative choices.

Alexia possesses all the characteristics of the typical genre heroine: she's attractive, but in such an unconventional way that she's convinced of the contrary; she's strong and outspoken, curious and stubborn, and she's not afraid to stomp in where angels (or vampires) fear to tread. Add to the mix a stern mother, absent stepfather and two vapidly unpleasant step-sisters, and the book would resemble too much a Cinderella-like scenario, or walk down a too-often beaten path. But Ms. Carriger's writing and wickedly peculiar sense of humor elevate Alexia, and her story, far above the usual and predictable fare, regaling her readers with scenes that run from funny to saucy while mystery and romance compete for the limelight in the foreground.

If you want a book that's both amusing and exciting, this will no doubt be the perfect choice.

My Rating: 7,5/10

The Lady Astronomer - Katy O'Dowd

I received this book from the author, in exchange for an honest review.

Lucretia shares her time between hat making and star gazing, living with her equally inventive and talented brothers. When they are tasked with the building of a huge telescope by none other than the king, Lucretia finds herself spirited away at the royal court, where intrigue and danger await her…

It's a delightful story that stands on the dividing line between YA and something younger children would love very much: not my cup of tea - not by a long way - but I must say up front that the feather-like hand with which the story is written, and the amused smile that peeks out of the lines will not fail to reach the book's younger audience and at the same time captivate the soul of any adult reading it to them, because both elements will speak clearly to the child still lurking inside.  

My own "inner child" seems to have gone AWOL some time ago, unfortunately, so I could not appreciate the story as it deserved: nonetheless I believe I can recommend it for its intended audience, because it will deliver all of its promises.

The tone and narrative voice, coupled with the presence of sentient animals and interacting mechanical toys, give The Lady Astronomer the distinct flavor of a bedtime story, one that's full of wonders like mechanical pigs, suits of armor that act as royal butlers and a set of working dwarves that offer a more than passing wink to the Snow White legend.

Unfortunately, the same reasons that make this book a perfect fairytale are the same ones that prevented me from fully enjoying it: first, it's more like a series of sketches than an organically developed story, and characters are pictured through dialogue rather than examined in depth - and it's often a dialogue carried in breathless, overlapping sentences, that leave little room to delve to a satisfactory depth into characters, and what makes them tick, so that it was quite difficult for me to form a connection with them as a reader.

And then there was my major nitpick, i.e. the author's choice of using a surname's initial when mentioning a person: it felt just quirky at first, but then the excessive use of it skirted the middle ground between bothersome and annoying. I understand it might have been the norm for that time period, but to my ears it sounded contrived - and a bit too much.  

Nonetheless, the story is pleasant and - of course - in the end good triumphs and the evil-doers get their rightful punishment, so if you are looking for a story to read to your kids, one that will leave them with a good feeling, this will be the right choice.

My Rating: 6,5/10

Favorite Authors: John Scalzi

Browsing through the GoodReads list of books I read in 2013, I noticed that one of the authors featuring more prominently is John Scalzi: both his ongoing Old Man's War series (now counting 5 volumes) and his stand-alone titles never failed to offer entertaining and thoughtful reads.  On top of that there's the person himself: as a follower of his blog I've found that he's a witty, intelligent and considerate person who often takes the time to promote other writers' work through the recurring series of "Big Idea" posts. Every time I've tried one of those books because the core theme interested me, I made a pleasant discovery (Mary Robinette Kowal being the most notable so far), so that now Mr. Scalzi is not just one of my favorite authors, he's also a trusted, if indirect, advisor on reading materials. 

While waiting for his next book to come out, I'll try to put down some thoughts on what I enjoy about his storytelling.

The Old Man's War series is set in a not-so-distant future in which the elderly are offered, on their 75th birthday, the chance of a new life - literally - serving in the Colonial Union's military and assisting humanity's expansion through the galaxy: all this in exchange for a second youth. How this is made possible is something best discovered through reading the books: suffice it to say that it adds an interesting twist to a trope explored in well-known books as Heinlein's Starship Troopers or Haldeman's Forever War.  The twist comes from the fact that these are mature (and probably wise) people, not adventure-seeking youths, which gives an added layer to their personalities and actions.

The storytelling is both light-hearted and thought-provoking, in a delightful balance that is one of Mr. Scalzi's writing trademarks. The five books written up to today expand on that universe with a true space-opera scope that nonetheless never forgets the human side of living beings - even when they are aliens - giving the reader three-dimensional characters that feel true and believable.

This was one of the pleasant surprises I encountered with this series: the militaristic premise of the first book is slowly removed - as if peeling away a camouflage's layers - to reveal unsavory truths and, more importantly, individual reactions to those truths that allowed me a deeper look into some characters' personalities.  A few of those glimpses moved me deeply more than once, and further raised my appreciation for Mr. Scalzi's way of dealing with important issues in a deceptively light and offhand way.

What's more, it looks as if the first book will be soon turned into a movie: I can hardly wait to see how it will translate on screen.

Redshirts is a stand-alone book, one that won the 2013 Hugo Award by the way.

It pokes some well-written fun at one of Star Trek's most recognized tropes: if you're part of the security or technical crew (i.e. you're wearing a red shirt) your life expectations don't amount to much...      The junior officers aboard the Universal Union's starship Intrepid have come to a frightening realization: every time one of them goes on an away mission with the high-ranking officers, it's certain that he or she will die in a horrible way. Most of those in the know do their utmost to avoid crossing the officers' path and therefore being chosen for a team, but a group of newcomers understands there is a deeper reason behind what's happening: I'm offering no spoilers here, except by saying that it's a tongue-in-cheek joke aimed at serial tv.  Once the truth has been discovered, the young crew members decide to take the matter into their  hands to save their own lives and those of their shipmates.

This book has a Galaxy Quest flavor, yet it goes further on in the way it exposes the clichés of a long-standing tv show that sticks to its formulas and is afraid to "explore the strange new worlds" it's supposed to.  The author John Scalzi was creative consultant on the set of "Stargate Universe", the short-lived spinoff of the SG franchise: it's no mystery that many of the die-hard fans of SG1 did not embrace SGU because it was "too different", "too dark". Because – and here I'm expressing my own opinion – it left the beaten (safe?) path to try and find new ways to tell a story. 

When some of the Redshirts characters face the person responsible for their destinies they ask him if he can't find a better way of reaching his goals, one that does not require the death of throw-away people.  Because a good story, more often than not, comes from the exploration of the unexpected, from a bold move in a new direction.  That move might even require the death of a character, but that death must have meaning – this is what the young crewmembers are asking: thoughtfulness and respect, which is what every character in a story – any story – should receive.

Despite the humor peppering the pages, and the many hilarious in-jokes, there is a current of seriousness that runs beneath the surface because the story expands to explore more serious territory, as questions about what it means to be alive, and the meaning of life itself, assert their presence - especially in the three delightful and unexpected "codas" at the end of the book.

Fuzzy Nation is another stand-alone story, featuring a planetary prospector who discovers the proof of intelligent life on a planet whose resources are being drained by human greed. 

The story itself concerns a classic trope: the big, bad corporation working to exploit a planet’s resources and trying to ignore the existence of a sentient indigenous race, so that the controlling authorities will not stop them. Of course the trope also requires a brave hero who will defy the big, bad corporation and win against all odds.

The way John Scalzi deals with this story makes all the difference, though: with his usual humorous and carefree style he manages to present the situation without falling into clichés, so that the tale remains consistently entertaining, engrossing and delightful.

For starters, the indigenous sentients - the Fuzzies - are not simply cute creatures: they are built, page after page, toward a surprise revelation that defies any reader expectation. Their antics, in the course of the novel, are thoroughly entertaining and I found myself laughing out loud in more than one occasion.

The hero himself, Jack Halloway, is hardly hero material at all: he’s more of a rogue watching out for his best interests, and even when he sides with the Fuzzies he does so with an eye to his  advantages as well. Which makes him very human, and therefore even more likable, as are secondary characters Isabel (Halloway ex-girlfriend) and her new fiancée.  These three often engage in delightful verbal sparring that is reminiscent of comedy movies from the ’50s and ’60s and livens up an already sparkling tale.

A special mention should go to Carl, Halloway’s dog, trained detonator of explosives and wonderful comic relief, both on his own and in the company of the Fuzzies. Even if you’re not a dog person, you will love Carl without reservations.

As I’ve come to expect by now, under the first layer of humorous, entertaining storytelling, Scalzi deals with more serious issues and manages to blend the two sides of the equation in a seamless way, at the same time keeping his readers interested and involved.  The pace is quick, the characters believable and likable, the story engrossing: I could not have asked for better.

Agent to the Stars: John Scalzi's very first novel, a work that was a sort of challenge to himself, to see if he could. Granted, it's not on the same level as his other books, and yet the seeds of his narrative style are all there. It's another light and funny story about aliens - nice ones - who want to meet Earth people but are aware that their appearance might work against them, so they employ a Hollywood agent to promote their image.

Delightful, entertaining and surprisingly deep as well.

The God Engines: this is a strange story indeed, quite unlike the usual pace and tone I've come to expect from the author. First the genre, that is a curious mix of science fantasy with a dash of “magic” (for want of a better word); then the mood, quite dark and unrelieved by the characteristic wit I've become accustomed to with Scalzi's writing. And last but not least the abrupt and scary ending, that left me very unsettled.

As usual, the core themes - freedom, choices and what makes us human - raise many thoughtful questions, but still I wonder if he wrote this one while in a dark, hopeless mood...

On the other hand, a series of announcements on his blog indicates that more serious, not to mention terrifying themes, are forthcoming - at least judging from the microscopic peek Scalzi offered on his next book, Lock In, which should be available next August. You can read about it HERE. After reading the related novella Unlocked, I can hardly wait...

The Desert Spear - Peter Brett

Unexpected. That's the first definition that comes to mind about this book, the second in Peter Brett's Demon Cycle. 

The surprise comes from the sudden change of focus from Arlen and Co. (last seen shortly after the bloody victory against a coreling horde) to the Krasian army led by Jardir, intent on conquering the world as the reborn Deliverer. In a series of flashbacks, broken by present-day narrative, Brett gives us Jardir's life story and his path toward supreme rule of the Krasians, with a new angle on the moment when he comes in possession of the warded spear he stole from Arlen in the previous book.  What's interesting is that this specific act - while still heinous - is put into a wider context with Jardir's past and present: even though it doesn't in the least justify the theft and Arlen's attempted murder, it shows the circumstances surrounding it and the Krasian leader's feelings as the events are re-enacted, and fills the broader picture with more details.

The Krasian way of life is a harsh and cruel one that has no place for mercy or thoughtfulness: unlike their northern counterparts, who hide in abject fear of the night, the Krasians actively seek battle with the enemy, having built a culture that prizes sacrifice and glorious death. Like their distant cousins, though, they are bound for defeat, because of that almost careless waste of resources that reduces their numbers in an inexorable way.   Your people live to fight, while mine fight to live - this is how one character sums up the differences between the two peoples: in light of the revelations this book brings to light, it remains to be seen if they will find a middle ground, and through it, a way to beat the enemy.

Jardir himself is a source of contradictions, from my point of view: on one hand I can't form a bond with this character - who is so tightly focused on his desire to create a united front against the demons that for him this end justifies all means, no matter how cruel - but on the other I can see quite clearly where he comes from as a person, how the events in his life, and the people around him (especially his politically shrewd first wife Inevera), come to shape his character, and his destiny.  This is the mark of good writing, because it makes me see the persons behind the characters, makes me understand what makes them tick: even though I don't like Jardir's methods, I can still care for the way his story goes, and that's more than enough.

A further element that breathes strong life in this second book  is the introduction of a new threat with the coreling princes, the real power - mental and physical - behind the demon hordes: as fascinating as it is to discover these creatures and to look at events from their point of view, their appearance means that even the newly discovered wards, and the pro-active stance humanity is slowly taking against the attacks, might not be enough to stem the demonic hordes, let alone vanquish them. These new players are indeed raising the stakes and at the same time showing a different - and more worrisome - aspect in the nightly attacks: what before looked like the work of a mindless army of evil, now appears as a planned campaign, whose outcome looks far from predictable.

Once the focus goes back to the previous book's three heroes, we are introduced to many changes: Leesha's former home has been turned into a fighters' village, where everyone's skills are being honed against the demons; it's heartening to witness how quickly the people flourish with a little hope and courage, despite the awareness that they, like all the inhabitants of the north, will soon find themselves fighting on two fronts - the Krasian invasion and the nightly corelings' attacks.  As heartening as this vision can be, after witnessing the terror in which this world is plunged night after night, I can't avoid feeling it's somewhat forced: the change is too swift, too radical to effectively suspend my disbelief. Leesha herself turns from a convincingly headstrong woman into a super-heroine-of-all-trades: her healing skills work side by side with exceptional warding abilities and the fashioning of new weapons, making her into the de facto leader of the community - all this in the brief space of a few months. 

Only Peter Brett's compelling narrative managed to keep my suspension of disbelief up and running, and in some places it was nonetheless an effort. As fascinating as the world-building is, and continues to be, there are moments when the characterization goes somewhat over the top: Leesha's path is one such example, compounded by her later girlish fascination with Jardir - all built on secretive glances and blushing cheeks: I surprised myself thinking, time and again, that if old Healer Bruna had been present, she would have brought Leesha's back to reason with a well-placed blow from her walking stick.  Jardir suffers as well: this fearsome warrior, imbued with the moral conviction of being the new Deliverer, falls head-over-heels for Leesha and behaves like a hormone-crazed teenager from their very first encounter, and Inevera - a woman for whom the phrase "political expediency" seems to have been invented - also lapses into uncharacteristic conduct.  Nothing major, nor anything that would turn me off the book, granted, but still at the time it read like the betrayal of characters that had been drawn quite well until that moment.

All this is however counterbalanced by the narrative thread concerning Arlen and Renna Tanner, who comes on the scene as a full-fledged main character after her swift presentation in the previous book: her harrowing past of violence and abuse gives a solid background to her evolution, and makes her a believable ally/sidekick for Arlen, not least because she acts as a mirror for the dangers inherent in wearing magic wards on your own skin. This is one of the details that I most enjoyed in this story, that the way to battle demons on their own ground requires a price - a steep one: where it will lead some of the players still remains to be seen, and this further uncertainty is a promise for a satisfying continuation in the next book.


My Rating: 7,5/10

Unlocked - John Scalzi

John Scalzi is among my favorite authors: I have a bigger post in the works where I talk at some length about his books. Meanwhile, this recently released novella introduces the changed world that will be the background of his upcoming book Lock In, and is written as oral history, i.e. through several eyewitnesses' accounts.

The premise:  a virulent flu strain sweeps across the globe, killing millions in its wake and leaving an equally impressive number of people prisoners of their own bodies - they are awake, and aware, but incapable of motion, speech, communication.  The story gives an account of these events, of the profound social changes brought by Haden's Syndrome (so named after one of its most illustrious victims, the United States' First Lady) and of the consequences of mankind's attempts to deal with the disease's aftermath.

Unlocked represents a dark twist in John Scalzi's usually lighter-toned writing: even though the alternating eyewitness reports are collected after the fact, therefore getting some emotional distance from actual events, there is a palpable sense of impending doom, the perception of an unavoidable catastrophe happening before our eyes - a tragedy that both terrifies and fascinates the reader.  The stark, journalistic style of the reports does nothing to mitigate the horror of the unfolding drama and at the same time makes it both real and believable because, as we are reminded more than once, no one remains untouched by the disease. It's impossible, while reading this account, not to think about how realistic this scenario is, how it feels like a news report rather than fiction.

It hardly matters whether this flu is a natural evolution of an existing strain or the result of a willful terrorist act, as implied and discussed by several parties: both options are explored, yes, but this is not the focus of the story. What's really important is how the world reacts to a pandemic of these proportions and to the huge problem of the uncounted victims of the final stage of the infection, the one that leaves them helpless, locked in their bodies without access to the external world.

After the initial shock, the world starts to recover and to move pro-actively toward a solution for the Hadens - the collective name given to the lock-in-syndrome casualties. That solution will most certainly be the core theme of the upcoming book, so I'm not going into any spoilers here: suffice it to say that the small glimpses we are given about the social ramification of it (both short- and long-term ones) and the changes in public awareness, will allow Lock-In an in-depth point of view on disability, social standing and human rights.

As I said in the beginning, this story is darker and far less touched by the usual humor I've come to expect from John Scalzi's writing, but it's still as compelling as his other work, and promises more and better for the full-fledged book that will see the light next August. Luckily for me, not too long a wait...


My Rating: 8/10

In the Lost Lands - George R.R. Martin

A more fantasy-oriented tale than In the Morning Comes Mistfall, though I must admit - having read a good deal of Martin's works - that he enjoys mixing different elements in his stories to obtain unexpected results.

I own the audio version for this one as well, again read by Claudia Black, who lends further depth and life to both characters and background.

Grey Alys is a witch - or better, an enabler: she always grants your wishes, no matter how outlandish. The problem is, you never get exactly what you hoped for...  When the powerful Lady Melange asks Grey Alys for the secret of skin-changing, the woman brings her back a white wolf pelt that will turn the fulfillment of the Lady's desire into an endless nightmare.

The ending of this story is suitably horrifying, even though much is left to imagination rather than detail, and yet that's not what matters here: the main body of the story concerns Alys' voyage into the titular Lost Lands, in the company of the mysterious Boyce.  The Lands are desolate, the mute testimony of a possible past cataclysm, and yet they possess a sort of savage beauty that can be appreciated only by people able to look beyond surface appearances. Re-reading this shortly after "Mistfall" I became aware of the thematic similarity about beauty being found in the most unlikely places, and it was a happy discovery.

Alys and Boyce share that same deceptive appearance: both of them holding secrets, both of them presenting ax exterior look that belies their true nature, they seem two of a kind, destined to a fruitful allegiance. As if often happens with GRR Martin's tales, what ultimately happens turns readers' expectations upside down, then tramples them in the mud... He does so in a masterful, spellbinding way, though, capturing the reader's attention through striking descriptions and a cunning build-up of tension.

Grey Alys shines throughout the story: her quiet, almost unassuming ways speak of untapped depths and dark secrets, and her calm detachment is far more chilling than outright malice. There is no open cruelty in her actions: she hastens other people's demise, or observes their unavoidable misfortune, with the same aloof calm she would display in accepting her own. Alys seems to know there is an unavoidable fate awaiting us all and she neither embraces or runs from it, allowing fate to play its cards: there is only one moment, near the end of her journey in the Lost Lands, when she - in the form of a magnificent bird of prey soaring in the air - utters a shrill cry in the silence of the Lands. Given the turn of events that transpired in the story before this moment, I wondered if it was a cry of victory or one of despair. It would work either way, and that's so typical of Martin, who often leaves us in the cold, wondering...

That poise, that confidence, is what makes Grey Alys different from run-of-the-mill "witch" figures, and singles her out from the narrative norm: her best, most telling image, is the one at the beginning of the story, where she sits languidly caressing a grey rat as if it were a common pet - alarming and at the same time unforgettable.

The Ghosts of Bourbon Street - Seanan McGuire

There are many advantages for writers when offering free samples of their fiction on a website: the most obvious one is that a potential reader can get a clear idea about style, genre and writing quality from those short glimpses into an author's craft - and of course that same reader can discover new books or a new genre he/she never approached before.  On top of that, the writer can expand on an already-established world, shedding more light on situations, or characters, that did not get enough exposure in previous books.

What Seanan McGuire does, besides all that, is open a door for new characters that might find their way into existing series, or start new ones: this is exactly what happens in this short story, set into the Incryptid universe and introducing Rose Marshall, the protagonist of her upcoming book Sparrow Hill Road.

Verity Price, the heroine of the first two Incryptid books, is on a long, roundabout journey toward her family's home where she's taking her fiancé Dominic to meet her parents. Since Dominic used to be a Covenant operative - which means he hunted the cryptids that Verity's family tries to protect - she wants to make matters easier by having Dominic meet other relatives first. And who better than her aunt Rose, ghostly hitchhiker?

Threaded by the tongue-in-cheek humor that is this series' trademark, The Ghosts of Bourbon Street takes us to New Orleans on Mardi Gras, on a journey through a city that's only visible to those who walk with ghosts, a parallel world with its own rules, laws and - of course - dangers.  Rose immediately appealed to me: tough, street-smart, sharp-tongued, she's a perfect addition to McGuire's parade of strong female characters, one I look forward to knowing better when her book will be available.

As for Verity and Dominic, it was fun to meet them again - I confess I missed them both in Book 3, where Verity's brother took center stage - and the quick cameo from the Aeslin mice was a very welcome surprise. The interplay between matter-of-fact Verity and straightjacket-stiff Dominic made for a few humorous moments, as did the renewed impression that the poor man will need all his inner strength to keep his sanity with the Price family.  Hopefully McGuire will show us more along the way.

Also... more mice, Ms. McGuire? Prettyplease?

My Rating: 7,5/10

Glamour in Glass - Mary Robinette Kowal

When a few months ago I read the first volume in this series - Shades of Milk and Honey - I was pleasantly surprised: different from any kind of fantasy I ever sampled, it was both entertaining and compelling, taking me to a background that was quite familiar through my former experiences with Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer, but at the same time completely new thanks to the element of glamour, or magic that creates detailed illusions.  Part of what made Shades such a fascinating read was its lightness: I am using the term in the most complimentary meaning, of course, because the story itself needed no epic drama to keep me reading at a fast pace, so that I started this second installment with eager anticipation.

But either the novelty had worn off somehow, or the pace was a bit slower than in the previous book, so that at first I had to struggle a little to overcome my sense of disappointment with Glamour in Glass: I wondered if the bliss of married life had not dulled the main characters, especially that of Jane, the protagonist - or if the author had lost that special sparkle that had kept my attention riveted.  Luckily for me, after a somewhat shaky beginning, the novel found its rhythm and a surer footing, and I could sit back and enjoy my return to this peculiar version of the Regency era.

On hindsight I think that what irked me most was Jane's self-effacing deferral to her husband, the constant stress on her shortcomings and refusal to acknowledge her own abilities despite her husband's attempts at convincing her of the contrary: yes, I understand that women back then were raised that way, that any sense of self-worth had to come second to that of the "man of the house" and that Ms. Kowal was being true to the period's customs, but still it was as if the Jane I had know in the first book had somehow... faded in the interim.  She was not an aggressive character to start with, granted, but she could tap a reservoir of inner strength and courage every time her loved ones were threatened in any way, therefore I longed to see that person again.

Of course, I should have trusted the author's plans: because it soon became clear that such insistence on glamour itself, and its huge importance in Jane's life, would take a pivotal role. More importantly, Ms. Kowal wanted to show how the loss of it could affect Jane and her self-image: since she had been described from the very start as plain, any sense of worth she had came from her exceptional use of glamour - it was, after all, what had caught the brooding Vincent's attention in the previous book and led to their falling in love and marrying.  Having Jane lose what she perceived as her only attribute of note due to her pregnancy forced her to rely only on herself: the use of glamour can be harmful to a pregnant woman, so Jane had to deal with the loss of her only outstanding quality (according to her point of view) and the fears and sense of inadequacy that came with it.

This, coupled with the more far-ranging events leading to Napoleon's flight from the exile at Elba and his attempt at reclaiming power, forced Jane to face harrowing experiences on the strength of her wits and courage alone - and she showed the reader (and hopefully herself!) that her skills with glamour were not what made her what she was, and that she could be much more than just a magic wielder.   It was a return to the determined Jane I used to know, and one whose resolve came back with a vengeance because of the huge stakes involved: I found a marked poignancy in her actions, not just because she was getting out of her comfort zone to defend all she held dear, but mostly because she did it out of determination born of love - not simple romantic love, but the feeling that comes with the need to protect those we care about.

Moreover, I appreciated how this accomplishment was not reached without paying a steep price and the fact that I suspected early on what would happen, did not detract in any way from the dramatic developments and the pall of sadness settling on the happy ending.  It felt more honest, and true, if it makes any sense.

It will be more than interesting to see how Jane's character will evolve in the next books and how her new-found awareness will come into play - hopefully things will never be the same for her. One thing is certain, however: Ms. Kowal is one author I will always watch out for.

My Rating: 7/10