Fun, But the Edge Needs Sharpened

The Sword-Edged Blonde (Eddie LaCrosse #1)
by Alex Bledsoe
Published by Tor Fantasy
3 Out of 5 Stars

In the medieval kingdom of Arentia, Queen Rhiannon has been charged with a particularly horrific case of infanticide. King Philip desperately believes in his wife's innocence, despite all evidence to the contrary. His only hope? Eddie LaCrosse, the tough as nails sword-for-hire investigator and the king's childhood friend. Having spent years trying to outrun his past, LaCrosse begrudgingly returns home and is forced to confront his demons while trying to unravel the mystery of whether or not the beautiful blonde bombshell actually killed her own son.

The Sword-Edged Blonde is the snappy title for this noir/fantasy mash-up that's light on the noir, easy on the fantasy, and not as snappy as I wanted it to be. This is a bit of fun and forgettable reading, perfect for vacation but little else. While I enjoyed the book as a light, quick read, I could have loved it if it weren't for a few peeves:

--First off, that cover. Ye gods, that cover. Even by the artistically lacking and inept standards of mass market paperback sci fi/fantasy covers, that is one fugly cover. And wtf it has to do with the novel, I have no idea. It appears as though a giant troll king will manifest somewhere in the novel, and it's difficult to tell if he will be friend or foe based upon the back-to-back stance with the protagonist. Is he being sneaky-sneaky, trying to catch our hero off-guard, or has he simply got his back, bro? You know what--doesn't matter because this character and this scene never appears in the novel, at least not in any recognizable form.

--Ditto with the title. Sure, there's a blonde, but nothing about her is particularly "sword-edged." She's basically clueless and pouty. The reality is that she's more of a butter-knife-edged blonde. Or maybe a spork blonde, kind of confused and essentially useless.

--The protagonist, Eddie LaCrosse, is a bland character. He's not hard-boiled enough. I expected a world-weary, wise-cracking antihero (maybe a character like Ash from Army of Darkness). But LaCrosse is basically just a good guy who wanders around while clues smack him in the face. The only real nod to noir is that he has a suitably tragic past, but it doesn't seem to have shaped his character in any significant way. He occasionally ruminates on his past woes, but then snaps back to the present and soldiers on.

--Ineffective use of the locked room mystery presented as the crux for the case. I won't say much regarding this since I don't want to ruin anything, but a locked room can have so much potential for an unexpected twist that The Sword-Edged Blonde never capitalizes on.

While I didn't particularly like the objectified female characters, such is the territory with a noir-esque novel and there's nothing here that suggests Alex Bledsoe harbors misogynistic tendencies; instead, he's just tipping his hat to one of the defining characteristics of the genre. Still, it bothered me a bit that so many other noir tropes were dodged, but this was the one that was adhered to. 

Essentially, this book is like a cheap and ugly hooker. Pay your $10, try not to look at it too hard, and you might have a relatively good time. 

(That's right, I went there even after my little speech about objectifying women--hypocrisy, thy name is Amanda.) 

Doesn't Find New Land

The Pilgrims
by Will Elliott
Published by Tor
2 Out of 5 Stars

**I received a free copy of The Pilgrims from Tor in exchange for an honest review.**

Ah, the fantasy quest novel. Been a while since we've bumped into each other, but, damn, we used to have some good times when I was a teenager. I swear you haven't changed a bit since the last time I ran into you. So, anything new with you? No, not really? Still just rambling off down the road to adventure, eh? Meet a mage or two, maybe some stone giants, a few angels? Choose some ordinary schmuck to save the world from an omnipotent evil overlord hellbent on world domination? So, nothing new in your bag of tricks? Well, it was good seeing you . . . maybe we can meet up again sometime and you can tell me the same predictable tale. No, no--don't call me, I'll call you. Take care now! Buh-bye.

Yeah, I'm a little jaded when it comes to the fantasy quest. Granted, I cut my teeth on this genre, so folks who are new to fantasy may enjoy this tale far more than I did. The only way I enjoy this type of novel these days is if it's a new, inventive twist on the standard journey through a world that is not our own. Unfortunately, The Pilgrims by Will Elliott never rises above the formulaic presentation of an unlikely hero going on an unlikely adventure.

Eric Albright and his homeless friend, Case, find themselves in a strange world after opening a door that appears on a London bridge. In this new world, Eric and Case have the instant ability to both understand and speak the languages of all its denizens. Joining a merry band of rebels against Vous, the man who would be a god, Eric and Case meander without much purpose, encounter all of the aforementioned creatures and then some, and do little to endear themselves to the reader. Eric becomes convinced that he's meant to be a savior--though does little to prove it other than occasionally picturing himself as Batman. While the fantasy world created by Elliott has some intriguing elements, they fail to stand out when surrounded by so many cliches. The characters themselves are also flat, especially Eric, who seems so at ease with this strange place and his role in it that the narrative loses the tension created by a character confused by and at odds with his new surroundings.

Another strike The Pilgrims has against it is the "door between worlds" trope. I've mentioned in other reviews that I usually find this to be a charmless, hackneyed plot device. I despise The Wizard of Oz, Chronicles of Narnia, and Alice in Wonderland. The only time it has worked for me is in Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere and in the movie Labyrinth (and that probably has more to do with David Bowie in tight pants than anything else . . .). So when our hero, Eric Albright, opens a door between our world and that of Levaal without immediately find a well-endowed Bowie on the other side, well, you can imagine my disappointment.

And, finally, the third strike: The Pilgrims is a standard quest novel that for, inexplicable reasons, has been split into a trilogy. Here's what I hate about series quests: the first book will be all "a questing we will go, a questing we will go, no resolution, yo, a questing we will go"; the second book will continue in the same vein until the last 50 pages when, wtf, you mean shit's going to start happening now?; and the last book, if one makes it that far, might actually be fairly decent. But the reader has to drag ass through the first two books before there's any payoff in sight. I don't like to be toyed with thus.

So, if you're new to fantasy, you might want to give The Pilgrims a whirl, but fantasy veterans need not apply.

Been There, Done That

City of Bones:  Book One
Written by Cassandra Clare
Published by Margaret K. McElderry Books
3 Out of 5 Stars

Fifteen year old Clary is different: she can see the real world that's hidden from the rest of humanity. As such, she is the only witness to a murder in a hip nightclub and, when those responsible for this death find out, they have questions for her. Clary's world is turned upside down when she learns that what she witnessed was actually a demon-slaying at the hands of the Shadow Hunters, an elite group created by the Angel to rid the world of demons and protect the world of man. As Clary discovers the truth of her own connection to this world of faeries, vampires, werewolves, wizards, and demons, she comes to realize that she's not the person she thought she was.

This is yet another entry into the teen fantasy category and, as such, you can practically see Clare going down the checklist for popular teen fantasy. Like other books in this genre, it's well over 400 pages. There's also a love triangle between a girl and two guys, one of whom is oh-so-right for her and one of whom is oh-so-wrong (and later we find out just how really, really, really wrong he is). There's a smorgasbord of supernatural creatures and enough twists and turns to qualify for a ride at Six Flags. 

However, for the most part, the story takes some original twists and often veers away from the more predictable scenarios that tend to plague this type of book. There's also a dash of humor that was refreshing. The female character, while not as strong as Katniss in The Hunger Games and not as whiny as Bella, is a nice cross between the two, which makes her a little more realistic. However, the narrative could have been improved if the novel were around 300 pages in length and focused more on the shadow hunter story line (but, no, we must save that for the next two books, as all teenage novels are now required to spawn a trifecta). There is too much filler, which robs the story of any real momentum (the scene with the vampires comes to mind, a completely unnecessary chapter that seems to only exist so the novel can include the popular Supernatural Flavor of the Week).

Despite these weaknesses, it is overall a pretty good book for its ilk and I'm sure I'll read the sequels sometime in the future. The distant future. 

Tea and Tedium

A Discovery of Witches
by Deborah Harkness
Published by Viking Penguin
1 Out of 5 Stars

In A Discovery of Witches, we clueless humans have no idea that we share our world with witches, vampires and daemons (creatures whose manic bursts of creativity result in some of the world's greatest artistic works). Isn't that exciting? One would certainly think so. So, what kind of shenanigans does this preternatural lot get up to while we live our ordinary lives?

Well . . .

Behold the books that shall be read! Thrill to the revelation that trips to the library will be made time and time again! Gasp as cups of warm tea are made and consumed! Swoon as vampires are repeatedly described as smelling of baked goods! And grip the edge of your seat for the most bizarre yoga-scene in the history of the written word!

That's right, folks. Vampires, witches, and daemons aren't like you and me--in fact, our lives are infinitely more interesting than theirs.

Seriously, what the hell is this? The best I can tell is that it's Twilight for grown-ups. And I can't believe I'm going to say this, but here it goes: Twilight is better. Suddenly vampires playing baseball during thunderstorms seems down right genius compared to vampires attending a supernatural yoga class. You want to drain all the sex appeal right out of your vampiric leading man? Just mention him doing some peculiar yoga move where he seems to be holding himself up vertically from the floor by nothing but his ear.

And then prattle on about how he's cold. And always has his hands stuffed in his charcoal trousers. And gets ridiculously enraged every time someone mentions blood because . . . he . . . might . . . not . . . be . . . able . . . to . . . control . . . himself (despite living a relatively normal life around humans for 1,500 years and seeming to need little in the way of sanguine sustenance). And how he maintains control of himself by always grasping the talisman he wears beneath his some-shade-of-grey sweater. And then have him ply the witch he is inexplicably drawn to with hundreds of bottles of wine and query her as to what every single one tastes like.

Oh, ho! And the witch! Now there's a live wire! Diana Bishop spends her days running, rowing, yoga-ing (?), and reading. Oh, and never using her magic because she wants to be just like us. Well, actually, she does use her magic every now and then, but only when it's really important. Like fixing her washing machine or getting a book off of a really high shelf. But other than that, it's all ixnay on the magic-ay.

At 200 pages in, I decided I couldn't stomach it any more. After all, up to that point, I had already been treated to a baker's dozen of the same basic scene:

--Diana goes to the library

--creatures are there; they pretend to read so they can watch her read all day, but they do so in a really creeptastic and menacing way, man

--Matthew, the vampire, goes to the library and pretends to read so he can watch them watching her watch a book and protect her in case one decides to, oh, I don't know, nick her with a really nasty papercut or something

--Diana and Matthew later go and consume a meal and beverages and talk ad nauseum about food to the point where an epicurean would offer them both a hot cuppa shut the fuck up

--Matthew will get angry with Diana, she'll apologize, and he'll settle his ass down

Round and round they go, where do they stop? Nobody knows! Oh, wait. I do! At the library! It's like freaking Groundhog Day without Bill Murray. And Groundhog Day ain't shit without Bill Murray. And neither is A Discovery of Witches.

When I decided I had a life to live, Matthew was fervently explaining how daemons, witches, and vampires might be going extinct!

To which I can only ask, so what's the problem?

Not My Cup of Joe

Something More Than Night
by Ian Tregillis
Published by Tor
2 Out of 5 Stars

**I received a free copy of Something More Than Night from Tor in exchange for an honest review.**

A swell angel, Gabriel, takes a powder by way of the big sleep. But what kind of button man has the juice to take down a big player like an archangel? It's not long before heavenly forces put the screws to Bayliss, a two bit angel confined to the dive known as Earth, where he's spent centuries tipping a little rye, smoking pills, and eyeing dishy kittens who know how to fill out a skirt. Heaven wants Bayliss to case the joint and find a mortal palooka he can knock off to fill Gabriel's slot in the universe. Hoping for a mark who won't ing-bing, Bayliss instead ends up with a flametop twist who stirs up all kinds of heavenly trouble. Now Bayliss is behind the eight ball, the immortal bulls want answers, and Bayliss suspects he and this new dame may be the patsys in a universal game of whodunit. Savvy?

Of all the bookshelves, in all the towns, in all the world, this book makes it onto mine.

Something More Than Night is going to appeal to a niche group of readers: hardcore noir aficionados, of whom I am not one. I like my noir like I like my coffee--black. But with sugar and cream and flavoring so it barely resembles coffee anymore. In other words, I like my noir to be not-so-noirish.

Ian Tregillis presents a concept that sounds entertaining, but quickly becomes tedious. Beginning with the death of Gabriel as he flames across the night sky, questions are quickly asked by Bayliss, the only heavenly being who seems interested in getting to the bottom of the angel's murder. Through his investigation and the inclusion of Molly, the mortal Bayliss has bumped off to plug the hole in the universe left by Gabriel's untimely demise, we learn that, in the beginning, there was not light, but angels. Angels free to do and imagine the universe as they pleased until METATRON, the voice of a higher power, clipped the angels' wings by chaining them to the mortal realm. Denied the right to roam the universe as they once did, the angels chafed against their chains but their proximity to one another created the MOC (Mantle of Ontological Consistency) that ensured existence for mortals would continue through the angelic consensus of what reality is.

As Molly comes to terms with her divinity and Bayliss seeks the truth behind Gabriel's murder, Tregillis builds a heaven of quantum physics only tinged by religious philosophy. While I enjoyed his vivid descriptions of the angelic hierarchy and the individual Magisteriums each angel builds as a personal hideaway, his descriptions of the universe veer into physics-based purple prose. Initially, I found this inventive and enjoyed passages such as:

He'd been collecting little odds and ends since at least the double-digit redshifts. The interior reality of Gabriel's Magisterium burbled and shifted like convection currents in a star on the zaftig end of the main sequence. Because, I realized, that's what they were. Dull dim light, from IR to X-ray, oozed past me like the wax in a million-mile lava lamp while carbon, nitrogen, and oxygen nuclei did little do-si-dos about my toes. Every bubble, every sizzle, every new nucleus, every photodissociation tagged something of interest to Gabriel . . . Nuclear reactions unfolded with the calm susurration of solar wind upon Earth's atmosphere, seeding cloud formation and rain. Convective cells furled about me with the low, slow, sonorous peal of cathedral bells mourning a monarch's death. X-rays fizzed on my tongue . . . " (64).

Got physics? Because you'll need it to slog your way through endless passages like this, which, while serving to capture the complexity and immensity of creation, do nothing but slow down the narrative. The combination of unceasing physics jargon with the unending noir slang became too much for me. Add to that the fact that Tregillis's world-building on the Earthly plane is sketchy at best (we get the sense that it is set in a dystopian future, but the futuristic elements seem wedged in and serve no defined purpose) and the novel begins to buckle under too many clever ideas.

The ultimate twist is a letdown as it seems contrived to get the plot out of the corner it had painted itself into. As the reason for the narrative's reliance on the noir genre becomes obvious to the characters, one muses, "But why go to all this trouble? What did it achieve, turning himself into a hard-boiled detective pastiche in an archetypal story" (250).

Why, indeed.

Failed to Cast a Spell

The Color of Magic
by Terry Pratchett
Published by Harper Perennial
2 Out of 5 Stars

Meh. It just didn't do it for me. Unfortunately, this book has been recommended to me so many times by well-meaning friends who know my love of absurd British humor that it couldn't possibly live up to the hype. It suffers from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy syndrome. For years, everyone I knew--friends, family, students, co-workers--would ask me if I had read Hitchhiker's and their mouths would drop when I admitted no, I hadn't . . . yet. Their response was always the same, "Oh, but you have to! It's like it was written for YOU!" By the time I got around to reading it, there's no way it could have lived up to the expectations that had been percolating for years. Ditto for The Color of Magic. 

I'll admit, Pratchett has a way with words and there was the occasional turn of phrase in response to which I made that air-escaping-from-the-nose sound that's not full bodied enough to be considered a snort of laughter. There was the infrequent half-smile. A few head nods in appreciation of a clever conceit. But, alas, there were no tear-inducing uncontrollable fits of laughter, which is what I expected. Will I read more Pratchett? Yes, because I have at least three more books by him lying about. I just hope they're better than this.

Snake Charmer

Two Serpents Rise
by Max Gladstone
Published by Tor
4 Out of 5 Stars

**This review is of an Advance Uncorrected Proof provided by Tor in exchange for an honest and fair review**

A burgeoning desert city, Dresediel Lex depends upon Craft and the power of fallen gods to quench its ever growing thirst. When demons are planted in the city's water supply, Red King Consolidated, the utility that provides water to the city, suspects religious fanatics eager for the return of the gods or good old-fashioned corporate competition. Caleb Altemoc, a risk manager for the omnipresent Red King Consolidated and son of Temoc, a wanted religious terrorist, is sent to investigate. He soon finds himself falling for a potentially dangerous woman, questioning his loyalties to his employer and to his father, and learning that the deified twin serpents of Dresediel Lex survived the God Wars and slumber as they await an eclipse that will awaken a hunger that can only be sated with blood sacrifice.

Two Serpents Rise returns us to the world--if not the characters and city of Alt Coulumb--presented in Three Parts Dead, and this is a brilliant move on the part of author Max Gladstone. Neatly side-stepping the tendency of many authors to get locked into one character and a formulaic plot structure for a never-ending series, Gladstone continues to create this unnamed world of magic and technology that is at once primitive and futuristic, where humans and gods coexist. This world provides Gladstone with a broad canvas for his impressive, imaginative world-building, and he is at his best when writing of the terrible majesty of the gods, as fantastically varied as the cultures that spawn them. However, these gods, brought into existence by man's faith, have been destroyed or harnessed after the God Wars, when mankind realized they could kill what they had created or restructure the power of the gods to serve the needs of modern man. 

The mythologies created by Gladstone capture the primal need for the divine and the rational, "civilized" mind's rejection of religious fanaticism--a dichotomy represented in the character of Caleb. The son of a once powerful Eagle Knight priest desperate to cling to the old ways of blood sacrifice, Caleb rejects the brutal and barbaric religion of his father, but is uncomfortable with the manner in which defeated gods have been utilized by concerns like Red King Consolidated to meet the needs of the people. As Caleb seeks the source of the water contamination, he must come to moral terms with Dresediel Lex's problematic history and the cultural divide created in the wake of the God Wars. Caleb's contentious relationship with his father provides the novel with more depth than one might expect of a standard fantasy novel, and I found myself wishing that Gladstone had jettisoned Caleb's strained, awkward, and perplexing romantic relationship with Mal in favor of more interaction between father and son. 

The mystery at the core of Two Serpents Rise, when stripped of its magical accouterments, is fairly standard, but serviceable to moving the plot forward. There are few surprises and maybe a few too many red herrings and segues into nonessential plot elements, but these quibbles are fairly minor when stacked against the entertainment to be found in exploring Gladstone's complex, layered world. 

Neither Great Nor Terrible

A Great and Terrible Beauty
by Libba Bray
Published by Simon and Schuster
3 Out of 5 Stars

I swiped this out of the classroom one day because I had lunch duty and my choices were A) stare at the perpetual hacky sack game for 30 minutes or B) read something. As you can see, I didn't have much of a choice at all (it was one of those Eddie Izzard "Cake or death?" scenarios). When I began the book, I was immediately hooked--exotic locale, spirited protagonist, hint of the supernatural. However, it was a case of infatuation-at-first-sight that burned out rather quickly. After finishing the book, I was left with an overwhelming sensation of "meh."

Why did the book lose my interest so quickly? Here's a quickly compiled list of possible reasons:

A) Began in India, but then switched to an isolated boarding school for girls in Victorian England. Come on! They lost me as soon as they left an amazing setting with all kinds of possibility for a mediocre one.

B) It's a young adult book and those don't always sit well with me. I just couldn't connect to the four girls that form the clique in the book. Case in point: they begin dabbling in witchcraft and one uses her power to create the perfect Prince Charming and one uses hers to--shock!--be beautiful. Puh-leaze.

C) Speaking of the four girls, stereotypes in the extreme: the mysterious one with a dark secret; the beautiful, but tragic one; the rebellious spirit; and the plain girl who doesn't belong in this world of prestige and riches.

So why did I give it a 3? It's fairly well written, it has an interesting premise (though the execution falls flat), there are a few genuinely funny moments,and it will probably appeal to the intended audience. I may read the sequels, but it will be a bit before I muster up the interest in doing so.

No God Can Shun His Destiny--Even If It Means Wearing Hollister

Antigoddess
by Kendare Blake
Published by Tor Teen
3 Out of 5 Stars

**I received a free copy of Antigoddess from Tor in exchange for an honest review.**

After centuries, the Twilight of the Gods has arrived. 

Already fallen from Olympus, now more mortal than god, each deity is dying in a manner peculiar to their power. Athena, goddess of battle and intelligence, is being slowly suffocated by the feathers of her sacred bird, the owl. The feathers fill her lungs and sprout beneath her skin. While many of the gods are resigned to their demise and see their end as a final whim of Fate, Athena, along with the swift Hermes (who is being consumed by his own rapid metabolism), seeks the counsel of Demeter and finds that a war is brewing. Led by Hera, some gods are determined to survive--even if it means slaughtering their own kind. Their only hope? A teenage girl named Cassandra--no mere mortal, but the reincarnation of Cassandra of Troy, prophet, sister of Hector, and love of Apollo.

The first in a trilogy, Antigoddess (and let's just go ahead and get this out there--this is a baffling and terrible name for the book) is an entertaining, if uneven novel that is the latest offering in the young-adult-if-only-we-were-supernatural genre. 

There's a lot here we've seen before: the co-dependent mortal/immortal love affair (it's always baffling to me when immortal creatures fall in love with nubile young teenagers; one would think the passing of centuries would make a relationship with anyone susceptible to Bieber-fever a tedious proposition at best), the requisite showdown at a house party, and the battle lines drawn between two supernatural armies whose collective fate rests on the shoulders of a human who is more than she appears to be. And while I know it will not bother the target audience, to have the gods appear as young adults is problematic to me. No explanation is given as to why they seem to be perpetually stuck in the Proactiv Skin Care years. In my imagination, Athena (my favorite goddess) has always loomed like an Amazon, tall, strong, mature. To think of her with tattooed wrists and purple streaks in her hair? Hermes sporting Hollister? Apollo in a hoodie? By Hades's balls, I'd rather French kiss Cerberus than think of the majesty of gods reduced to trendy mall fashion. 

Buuuuttttt . . . having said all that, there's an undeniable charm to what Blake's peddling here and it's far more successful than the Percy Jackson series. Sure, the gods lack characterization, but haven't they always? And, sure, they sometimes behave like mortals, but that's always been part of their appeal. Treading like giants and with powers beyond human comprehension, they still fell prey to very human weaknesses: love, hubris, envy. Blake also knows her stuff and it's fun to see her weave the tale of Troy into a modern day setting as Hector, Andromache, Odysseus, and Circe's coven make appearances alongside Hera, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, and Apollo. Throw in a cyclops, a Nereid or two, and an author with a sharp sense of humor--well, you could find worse ways to spend a Saturday afternoon.

A Look Back at My (Thankfully) Brief Love of Sookie Stackhouse

Ever so briefly I was a smitten-kitten for Charlaine Harris's Sookie Stackhouse series.  It wasn't long, however, before I tired of the predictable, formulaic plot of Sookie gets in trouble, handsome supernatural being comes along to help her save the day, and plot circumstances force Sookie and tall, dark, and handsome to part ways so that she will be unencumbered when embarking on her next supernatural romance.  These reviews have been left as is to document my whirlwind, yet ill-fated love of Sookie's story.

Dead Until Dark

by Charlaine Harris

Published by Ace Books

3 Out of 5 Stars

I read this book after getting hooked on HBO's True Blood. Despite having seen them in bookstores, I had avoided picking one up until then because, based upon the inexplicably cartoonish cover, I assumed they were some more young adult vampire nonsense. Clearly, that was a misguided marketing ploy.

It's hard to say what I really thought of the book because season 1 of True Blood is based on Dead Until Dark; as a result, all suspense of who did it and why was gone. However, I enjoyed the book far more than the television show. For one, the show has all of these revved up sex scenes that often seem irrelevant to the plot (I know, I know--that's kind of HBO's thing). I'm not a complaining prude here--it's just that, if they're included, they should be relevant and shouldn't seem so intent on pushing the envelope just for the sake of shock value. The book certainly isn't devoid of them, but they seem more reasonable within the context of the story line. 

Sookie is a promising character. Unlike the weak and whining Bella (who is my main source of complaint with the Twilight books), Sookie's got some spunk. And she, too, is different--a telepath, she has a power of her own that levels out the playing field a bit in her human-in-contact-with-the-supernatural situation. I also like the idea of vampires trying to mainstream into modern culture and demanding equal rights--kind of an interesting spin on things. I'm anxious to read the next novel so I can get a true feel for the series without any spoilers.

Living Dead in Dallas

3 Out of 5 Stars

Sookie Stackhouse is at it again, getting herself tangled up in all sorts of supernatural mischief involving vampires, werewolves, and now a maenad. 

These books are pure brain candy and a lot of fun with no literary pretensions. I enjoy the unique twists that stem from Harris's choice to set her vampire tales in the South (and not the South of antebellum aristocrats, but borderline trailer-trash South) and have vampires attempting to mainstream into society after being recognized as citizens by the U.S. government. 

While I enjoy the books and will continue reading the series, there were a few things that irked me enough to bump it down to a 3 star. Strangely, Sookie was one of the things that drew me to the series because she's not a helpless female so in love with a vampire that it consumes her entire sense of self. She's strong-willed and often gets herself into trouble during the daylight hours when Vampire Bill can't come to the rescue. She's resourceful and reliable. However, Harris seemed to backpedal a little bit here with Sookie. She's pouty when she doesn't get her way and seems too self-involved to really be likable (yes, yes, she's gorgeous and she knows it, we know it, the vampires know it--I don't need to hear her rhapsodize about how perky her boobs are or how her tan is holding up or about every freakin' article of clothing she puts on or takes off throughout the book). However, there are genuine flashes of humor throughout and Eric is definitely becoming a more fascinating character.

Club Dead
4 Out of 5 Stars

Finally, I'm able to give a Charlaine Harris novel a 4 star. Club Dead is the best in the series and you can tell that Harris is beginning to work through some of the weaknesses that I've noted in the first two books. One thing that Harris has done right is to realize that, once the star-crossed lovers finally get together, the audience's interest begins to wane. As an audience, we want the "will they, won't they" tension. In Dead Until Dark, we have that tension between Sookie and Bill. In Living Dead in Dallas, the two get a honeymoon period of being together for an entire novel. But that would eventually get boring, right? And so, it should be no surprise that Sookie doesn't get her happily ever after with Vampire Bill. This isn't a bad thing as it sets up all kinds of interesting relationship possibilities for our favorite wrong-side-of-the-tracks Southern telepath. Will she fall for Alcide, the werewolf, or Eric, the Viking vampire? Decisions, decisions. 

Some things that I like about the series include the working class Southern references. For instance, Sookie and Alcide actually go to a Wal-Mart at one point and Alcide, though a werewolf, has to make a living by day as a land surveyor. For the most part, the supernaturals in Harris books actually mainstream into the human world, socially, politically, and financially. They're not the independently wealthy, old money vampires of Anne Rice's world. Instead, they appear to be average people who just happen to--surprise!--be vampires, werewolves, shifters, telepaths, etc.

My one irritant: the means by which Harris severed the relationship between Sookie and Bill. It seemed so out of character for Bill. From the very first page of the novel I thought, "This is not the Vampire Bill of the first two novels." Nothing really explains this sudden shift in character, nor is his attraction to Lorena ever adequately explained. Harris whips up a short little background story told by Eric to explain this bizarre behavior away, but it just doesn't gel. Oh, well. Her only other option would have been to kill him off and I did not need another "New Moon-esque" experience of the heroine bemoaning the loss of her lover and wallowing in self-pity. At least Sookie maintains her dignity and the ending is very fitting for a spunky Southern girl with a mind of her own.

Dead to the World

3 Out of 5 Stars

After thoroughly enjoying Club Dead, this one fell short of my expectations. When Sookie finds Eric Northman (the Viking vampire who owns the vampire bar Fangtasia in modern day Shreveport, Louisiana) on the side of the road, he seems dazed and disoriented. And with good reason--he's lost his memory. Gone is the smug, sarcastic, and arrogant Eric that Sookie's always known and, in his place, is a scared and dependent vampire. And that's part of why I didn't like this as much--Eric's just not as much fun in this one. 

I won't wax profound over this novel. These books are the equivalent of cheesecake bites--they're addictive and you feel a little guilty for indulging in one because this is not great literature. In fact, the writing really is pretty terrible, but what she lacks in writing skill Harris makes up for in a vivid imagination and a savvy for knowing how to keep us interested in the life of Sookie Stackhouse.

Girls Need More Coraline, Less Barbie

Coraline
by Neil Gaiman
Published by HarperCollins
4 Out of 5 Stars

Creepy, quirky, and all things to be expected of a Gaiman novel, this is one of those books that I wish had been available to me as a young 10 to 12 year old when all I had to fall back on was the Nancy Drew series. There was certainly nothing this twisted and delightfully dark on the shelves of the school library. As a heroine, Coraline is a likable, brave girl who takes matters into her own hands when her parents are kidnapped by a dark force that should scare her shitless. Young girls, force-fed Barbie worship and Twilight-y longing for an undead mate, need books like these because, frankly, that much exposure to all things pink and sparkly eventually gets boring. I also like that Gaiman sidesteps the whole "it was just a dream" scenario and ends with enough evidence that Coraline's experience was just what it was--a daunting quest undertaken by an undaunted little girl.

Doesn't Deliver

The Heroines
by Eileen Favorite
Published by Scribner Book Company
1 Out of 5 Stars

Sometimes a clever conceit should remain just that--a conceit. Because no matter how you try to develop it, it will never be as as wonderful as the idea itself. Trying to build upon it and give it complexity strips it of its fanciful "What if?" brilliance and plummets it back to earth. And so we have The Heroines, a novel built around one of the most wonderful ideas I've ever encountered--what if the heroines from famous novels needed a respite from the tragedies of their own storylines--and yet promptly clustermugs the whole thing.

Basically, I feel as though I was sold a false bill of goods. The novel purports to be about a bed and breakfast that attracts the heroines of famous novels. Deirdre of the Sorrows, Franny Glass, Daisy Buchanan, Anna Karenina, Hester Prynne, and Catherine Earnshaw have all signed the guest book and checked in for a few days of freedom from the misery of their lives. This is what I wanted to read about--how the heroines come to be at the bed and breakfast and how they interact with a modern world. I expected quirky, witty, and humorous. What I got was dark, disjointed, and ordinary. Instead of focusing on the heroines (who are little more than footnotes), the novel focuses on Anne-Marie Entwhistle and her daughter, Penny. Anne-Marie and Penny run the bed and breakfast and, unfortunately, the novel chooses to focus on their problematic relationship as a result of Penny's coming of age. WTF? Scarlett O'Hara's pounding on the door and instead of focusing on that, a pedestrian mother/daughter conflict is the subject of the book? And that is, in essence, the root source of my disappointment with the book. When heroines do (very briefly) make an appearance, they are flat, one-dimensional versions of their colorful, complex selves. Hester sets about sewing an A on the front of her dress and throwing just enough "thou" into her dialogue to make her seem authentic; Scarlett wakes in the middle of the night to pull down the curtains (for dressmaking purposes, of course) and try to steal the sweet potatoes; Deirdre constantly weeps. They read as caricatures of themselves.

As for the plot, Penny is rebelling by going out into the nearby woods despite her mother's rule against doing so. While there she meets and falls in lust with the Irish King of Ulster, Connor (better known as Conchobar in the original Deirdre mythology), who has followed Deirdre into our time. Through a muddled turn of events, Penny is locked up in a psych ward and we have to read about her "it's-all-so-unfair!" experiences there. After finally breaking free, Penny returns to the woods with Connor, during which some awkward sexual awakening occurs and Penny is going through withdrawal from the meds given to her in the psych ward. She spends her days smoking pot while Connor hunts deer and builds huts. Aaannnnndddddd that's pretty much it. Basically, there's just enough inexplicable tragedy and unresolved longing in Penny's life to make one wonder if Penny is herself a heroine (a thought which Penny also considers). 

Then we have a peculiar shift in narrative and we go back in time to when Penny's mother was a young woman. A point of contention between Penny and her mother has always been the void that is Penny's father. Penny knows that her mother became pregnant out of wedlock, decided to keep the baby against the wishes of her parents, and that her father died in a car accident. Penny's mom is mum on the details of who Penny's father was and what, exactly, was the nature of their relationship. This part of the narrative answers all of the questions Penny has regarding her father. I won't reveal any more here as to do so would be to spoil the ending, but this story line was the best in the book and took about 10-15 pages. The payoff was not worth the other 200+ pages through which I had to drag myself.

The story could have been saved if the characters had been more likable, the heroines had made more frequent (and more satisfying) appearances, or if the story hadn't been so self-aware of how clever it was being with all of its metaphysical musings on the nature of "heroines" and storytelling itself. 

Childhood's End

The Stolen Child
by Keith Donohue
Published by Nan A. Talese
4 Out of 5 Stars

Feeling ignored and tired of his infant twin sisters getting all of the attention, young Henry Day decided to run away one day in the 1940's. Henry never returned home; in fact, he ceased to exist, but no one noticed. Why? Henry was abducted by the hobgoblins who lived in the nearby forest and a changeling was left in his place--a changeling who had been studying everything about Henry and knew how to mimic him so perfectly that no one could tell the difference. The Stolen Child follows the boy and the changeling for the next 30 to 40 years and tells their story in alternating first person narratives that, in the beginning, are a little confusing, but rightly so as both children are confused about their identities as they each adapt to their new world. Their lives run parallel to one another and occasionally intersect to disastrous results.

A friend of mine described this book as "melancholy," and I think that's the perfect adjective to sum up my feelings after reading this book. For one, the changelings are not villains. They are all children who had their lives stolen from them and are now biding their time until they can reclaim what was forcefully and brutally taken from them. As a result, I feel sorry for both Aniday (the name given to Henry after he becomes one of the changelings) and Gustav (the changeling who takes Henry's place). Often in a fantasy, you get the joy of hating the evil-doer or the monster lurking in the dark, but here the evil is something nebulous and never clearly defined. I think this is partially due to the allegorical nature of the plot. In a sense, life is the monster in that it's a force of nature that can't be stopped or reasoned with. For each of us, our childhood must eventually end and, as children, we often can't wait to grow up and find out who and what we'll be. To do so, we have to cut ourselves away from the child we were so that we can embrace the adult we'll become. We leave a "changeling"--a collection of memories, childish desires, and emotions that revisit us throughout our lives, but the child version of ourselves is like a stranger we once knew.

Also, as we get older, many of us look back on the innocence of childhood with a sense of nostalgia and think, if only upon occasion, "if only I could go back" or "wouldn't it be great to be a child forever?" The answer provided by Donohue is no; that the romantic view of childhood is just that--the tinge of rose-colored glasses. The changelings are not The Wild Boys; sure they are given to fun, frivolity, and mischief, but theirs is not a life to be envied. It is a constant struggle for survival against the harsh elements and the encroachment of man as civilization and suburbia threaten the wilderness where they are able to secret themselves away. They long to grow up and are trapped in tiny bodies while their emotional and mental maturity continues, unimpeded. They wait and they yearn and they think about all they will never have and all they will never be.

In presenting the changeling myth for modern times, Donohue has given us a haunting and beautiful examination of childhood and the search for identity. And he has done so in humanity’s most enduring medium: that of myth.  

Gaiman's Otherworldly Look at Childhood

The Graveyard Book
by Neil Gaiman
Published by HarperCollins
4 Out of 5 Stars

What a dark, macabre, and lovely book. Occasionally, I run across a book like this that gives me hope for young adult fiction (The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins is another such book that I read earlier this year). 

I know that the book is loosely based on Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book, which I've never read (of course, I saw the Disney movie, but I'm assuming they managed to bugger that up like they do everything else--although, I will admit to loving Bagheera, mainly because of Sebastian Cabot's great voice). In both, a baby is abandoned to the care of an unlikely family: in Kipling, Mowgli is raised by the various inhabitants of the jungle; in Gaiman, Nobody "Bod" Owens is raised by the unlikely denizens of a forgotten graveyard. Without having read The Jungle Book, my ability to draw any further comparisons between the two ends there, but what I can tell you is that this is a book that I would have loved as a child and that I did love as an adult. It transcends age because it's a well told, intelligent story that doesn't pull any punches. There's always darkness in Gaiman's fiction--tragedies happen to good people and bad people alike, things go bump in the night, happy endings are tinged with the bittersweet, and sometimes the scariest thing in the world is human nature. 

The book begins with the chilling line, "There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife." If that isn't an instant hook, I don't know what is. We quickly find that the hand belongs to the man Jack, who has just killed Nobody's father, mother, and sister, and is now intent on killing Nobody, who is just a toddler. From there, the story is told in a series of vignettes that show Nobody growing up, his adventures in the graveyard (a wonderland to a child with an imagination and no fear of death), and his interactions with the dead and undead alike. There are ghosts, ghouls, vampires, witches, werewolves--none of whom are as frightening as the man Jack, who is still pursuing Nobody after all these years.

The only reason I gave this a 4 instead of a 5 is because of just a wee bit of predictability that certainly didn't ruin the story and would probably be missed by someone younger. Highly recommended. 

Delightfully Bizarre Fantasy

The Order of Odd-Fish
by James Kennedy
Published by Delacorte Books for Young Readers
4 Out of 5 Stars

It's difficult to decide what I should say about this book. If I could sum the novel up in one word it would be, well, odd. Or absurd. Or peculiar. And I mean this in the best possible way.The Order of Odd-Fish is a young adult fantasy that drips with the absurdist humor of Monty Python or Douglas Adams. Naturally, this secures me as a fan. 

The novel is about Jo Larouche, an orphan who was found with a note that said, "This is Jo. Please take care of her. But beware--this is a DANGEROUS baby." For that alone, Jo received notoriety, but interest in her quickly fades when it appears that she will be a normal child after all. Jo is raised by Lily Larouche, an eccentric and absent minded former Hollywood starlet who, despite being in her 80's, still parties like she did in her heyday. Through a few twists and turns, Jo and Lily find themselves in Eldritch City, a bizarre land of cockroach butlers, flying ostriches, and the Order of Odd-Fish--a knighthood dedicated to researching bizarre and useless facts when not defending the city. Lily, it seems, was once a member of Odd-Fish. However, after being accused of treason, her memory was wiped and she was exiled to the desert. Now that Lily is home and has her memory back, Jo learns of the circumstances surrounding her birth and a prophecy in which she plays a role in the destruction of the world--finally, Jo realizes just how dangerous she can be.

In the beginning, I wasn't crazy about the novel. I thought it was trying too hard to be bizarre, but once the characters find themselves in Eldritch City, the bizarre quality feels right. I would highly recommend the novel to young adult fantasy fans.  

A Dark Fairy Tale With Mixed Results

Sea Change
by S. M. Wheeler
Published by Tor Books
2 Out of 5 Stars

**I received a free copy of Sea Change from Tor in exchange for an honest review.**

A fantasy bildungsroman, Sea Change follows the isolated, lonely and headstrong protagonist, Lilly, as she explores the limits of friendship. Born into a prosperous house to parents who fight as fiercely as they once loved, Lilly is a disappointment to her father because she is not the male heir for whom he hoped and the birthmark that blemishes half of her face ostracizes her from the townspeople who fear she is a witch. It is not until she meets Octavius, a young kraken who can appreciate the beauty of her intelligence and compassion, that Lilly finds a kindred spirit with whom she can share her innermost self. When Octavius disappears and trouble at home forces Lilly to choose loyalties, she sets off on a quest to free the only true friend she's ever known--but the price may be more than she's willing to pay.

With its dark fairy tale quality, female protagonist, and unusual take on gender roles, Sea Change should have been a safe bet for me. And while S.M. Wheeler certainly creates a fantastic journey for Lilly and does not shy away from the more horrific, gruesome aspects of life, the novel struck me as being somewhat uneven. The transitions that occur in Lilly's life are indeed sea changes, often abrupt and unpredictable events that turn her entire life upside down, but the result was that I often felt as though I was reading a disjointed narrative. Certain events are given too much weight (such as the lengthy interlude with the bandits, during which Lilly's original intent for being there--a bit of clever trickery on her part regarding promised wealth in exchange for her life--is forgotten for several pages), and others are sadly given too little (the kraken appears very seldom in the book and only serves as the motivation for Lilly to undertake a quest that leads to self-discovery).

I also found Wheeler's syntax and phrasing to be confusing, often cluttered or inverted for no particular reason or to any desired effect. There are also several instances where references are made to people, objects, or events as though the reader should remember them from a previous mention--which never existed. By the end, I still found myself re-reading sentences and grasping for the meaning.

Despite this, I found myself experiencing a sea change in regard to the book once Lilly set off on her quest. Whereas I found the beginning overly long and tedious, Lilly's adventures after leaving home became compelling and I looked forward to seeing what peculiar character Wheeler would introduce us to next: a skinned witch, a troll who exacts an unthinkable price, a pair of homosexual bandits (I particularly enjoyed Wheeler's depictions of sexuality and the domestic, devoted relationship between these two men--even though they were every bit as violent as Neverwhere's Vandemar and Croup), the dark-wife who dines on memory, a zombie tailor whose specialty is the sought after Coat of Illusion, and many others. After a time, though, it seemed that too much was being crammed into one book. Some restraint in the number of characters may have resulted in a more streamlined narrative that was able to showcase these characters in all of their macabre and magical glory.

I look forward to reading Wheeler's next novel as there is a lot of promise in Sea Change, but there's also a lot of room to grow.

Ready for Volume 2

Artifacts Volume 1
Written by Ron Marz
Illustrated by Stjepan Sejic and Michael Broussard
Published by Image
4 Out of 5 Stars

Well, that was a pleasant surprise. I'm unfamiliar with the Top Cow universe and picked this up on a whim because it was on sale. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it always opens my wallet. Flipping through it, I didn't expect much--women sporting cleavage that would make Barbie feel inadequate and some religious imagery that brought on PTSD flashbacks ofPenny for Your Soul. I just knew this was going to have more Catholic fetishism than a Madonna video. Forgive me, Top Cow, for I have sinned.

There's an impressive mythology at work here that has a smart religious element. There are 13 ancient artifacts that have selected bearers/protectors throughout the centuries. Sara Pezzini is the current bearer of the Witchblade, the artifact created to balance the forces of good and evil (represented by The Darkness and The Angelus, both of whom are the embodiment of two artifacts). The remaining artifacts are scattered among other characters, such as The Magdalena (the protector of the Catholic Church and wielder of the Spear of Destiny) and Tom Judge (the ex-priest, recent denizen of hell, suspiciously John-Constantine-look-alike bearer of the Rapture). Of course, with 13 artifacts, there's an extensive cast of characters so I'll leave it there. 

If the 13 artifacts are ever brought together, it will bring about an apocalyptic event. Naturally, there's always some asshat who wants to bring about the end with the intention of rebuilding the world as he sees fit. It's no different here and it's not long before the artifact bearers have chosen sides: those determined to keep the artifacts apart and those who will stop at nothing to bring them together.

The artwork is beautiful, though conventional and features scantily clad babes that did nothing for me but will probably have the fellas hoping for a wardrobe malfunction. (I mean, seriously, I've seen Victoria's Secret models clad in gauzy nothings that probably offer more protection than Sara Pezzini's Witchblade "armor".) The writing, blend of mythologies, and universe-building is impressive. There are angels and demons and androids and icemen and assassins and even a DRAGON! Well, at least hints of a dragon. That's enough to count me in for the second volume.

Ragna's-Gonna-Rok

Norse Code
by Greg van Eekhout
Published by Spectra
3 1/2 Out of 5 Stars

More of a 3 1/2 stars. I have to give Greg van Eekhout props for a very clever and interesting take on how Ragnarok might come about during modern times (I mean, the fire giant Surtr is wielding his sword from on high over a final battlefield that includes a Home Depot and a Costco, which made me smile). I can't say that I've read a lot of Norse mythology because it always seemed so fragmented and difficult to follow when I went through my mythology phase in junior high (the year Edith Hamilton never left my side), so I have no idea how accurate Eekhout's depictions are. Furthermore, I can't say that I care. It was entertaining and original, especially when compared with the current glut of vampire fiction on the market today. 

Also, I'm always worried about books like this (the ones that look like they'll be urban fantasy with a strong female heroine) because they tend to devolve into nothing more than a sexfest of a plot that goes something like this: "It's almost the end of the world--there's only one thing to do! Have dirty, sweaty, S&M sex since all is futile! And then lets do it again every 25 pages or so until we've exhausted the Kama Sutra." I was pleased that Norse Code never becomes a dressed up excuse for supernatural porn. 

A few minor issues that shouldn't stop anyone from reading the book:

1. The back cover makes it seem as though the entire story will be told from the point of view of Mist, a valkyrie whose purpose is to gather warriors who will serve in the Einherjar at the final battle. However, the book doesn't seem to have one main character (which is just as well as Hermod and the Aesir are far more interesting characters than Mist; in fact, her whole "I must save my sister from Hel" mission seems unnecessary). It also seems as though the book will focus on the NORSEcode project being used to track down descendants of Odin (a kick ass idea in every way that isn't really utilized or expanded upon). These aren't really problems, but it ticks me off when a book presents itself as one thing and then goes in a different direction--even if I end up liking it.

2. And the name Mist is a minor irritation because sentences like "Mist hung around Hermod's waist" caused my mind to put forth disconcerting images of a Norse god riding into battle surrounded by a Charles Schulz Pigpen-esque fog.

3. The characters seem to exist only to serve the purpose of executing the plot. We never learn about them in any depth. Normally, this would be quite vexing, but the book makes it clear that they are pawns of prophecy and fate so, in a way, they do exist only to set the chain of events in motion. However, it would have been better if they could have been a little more interesting along the way.