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