I should begin by explaining something of my own relationship to the author’s works. Like many, I first encountered Brandon Sanderson when it was announced that he had been asked to complete The Wheel of Time series after the untimely passing of Robert Jordan. There are several camps of opinion on how he managed this monumental task, and I fall firmly in the camp of being glad that the plot was wrapped up in an overall satisfying manner, while being somewhat disappointed by the change in the tone of writing and the presentation of some of the characters. Sanderson himself has been open about the challenge of meeting the expectations of Wheel of Time fans and how he found some characters—Mat especially—more difficult to capture than others.

It was that exact issue that soured me on his writing for a time, as Mat is a favorite character of mine, and I found myself increasingly disheartened by what felt like a cartoonish representation of Mat’s thoughts and actions. On the other hand, Sanderson did a very nice job of advancing Rand’s arc into darkness (and eventually back out again) that had somewhat plateaued in Jordan’s final books. When I reread The Wheel of Time, which tends to happen every three years or so, I am prepared for the change in writing style and am increasingly able to enjoy the final three books of my favorite series. However, I have struggled to get into Sanderson’s other works, finding within them the same style of writing and characterizations that put me off his Wheel of Time books.

So when I opened Tress of the Emerald Sea, I was mentally prepared to not enjoy it. I am delighted to say that Brandon Sanderson proved me wrong! And he did so with the exact elements that I had come to dislike about his writing.

I read Tress of the Emerald Sea in three days over my winter holiday break. It was the perfect book for this time of year—cozy and fun and easy to put down as various social obligations arose and then pick right back up again after they were met. Brandon Sanderson says that the book was inspired by The Princess Bride, and this is apparent. The wit, fun, and magic—not the magic system or its wielders, but the magic of simply reading—reminded me of both the movie and the book by William Golding. The word “romp” is overused in describing books and movies, but I am going to go ahead and say that Tress of the Emerald Sea is a delightful sea-faring romp, complete with all of the elements of a classic adventure: pirates, mutiny, a friendly cook, a talking rat… you get the idea.

The book is well structured, with a clear and concise plot, believable character interactions, and strong character development. Tress is especially compelling, growing into her own as she leaves her small island home and ventures into an increasingly bigger world. The villains are somewhat comical (the evil sorceress sometimes plays Solitaire on her laptop, er, “magical seeing board”), but it does not detract from the stakes of the story. In fact, the real danger in the book comes from the environment.

In a twist that is both very Sanderson and a touch sci-fi, the seas that cover much of Tress’s world are not water but spores that drift down from the orbiting moons. These spores are highly reactive to water in ways that are dangerous and often deadly. The worldbuilding—always a strong suit for Sanderson—is executed perfectly, with details given to the reader gradually but steadily so that our understanding of the world is always exactly where it needs to be. 

The narrator is a familiar figure to those acquainted with Sanderson’s cosmere, and is eventually introduced to be a character in this book as well. This allows the fourth wall to be more of an open window, with thoughts frequently directed at the reader. Some of these are useful exposition, some are comical asides, and some are absolutely nonsensical ramblings. There is a reason for that though, as you’ll see.

The combination of relatively low stakes and a narrator with a known penchant for zaniness is what allows me to put aside my usual preference for grimdark fantasy and really enjoy Sanderson’s writing in this book. For example, all of the nameless sailors on the ship are simply generalized as “Doug” or “the Dougs.” Descriptions often employ similes, mostly to positive effect. A character described as having a “neck kind of merged with his chin—to the point that after meeting him, you’d inexplicably get a hankering for a baguette” made me laugh out loud. 

On the other hand, sometimes these comical descriptions detract from moments of gravity. That particular character is being described right after he dies, one of the few actually depicted deaths in the book. Other times—as when the ship tilts and we are told that it is “as if we are seeing through the lens of a student who had just discovered experimental film”— I am reminded of the note left by a professor on one of my college assignments: “Is this really the best way to describe this?” Maybe not.

Overall, this book was a joy to read. The physical copy is beautiful, with an outside cover and endpapers that fit the spirit of the book perfectly (and that you will appreciate even more as you consider them again after finishing the book). Sanderson’s acknowledgements and postscript notes make clear the absolute pleasure that the book was to create. For an author who has been so prolific over the past decade—in fantasy, no less, a genre whose authors have a notorious tendency to be less prolific than we would like—Tress of the Emerald Sea is a welcome addition to an already impressive catalog. In fact, it just may have motivated the Sanderson skeptic in me to take another look at the cosmere.

Aleksandra (Ola) Hill is a Polish-Canadian writer and the founder and publisher of khōréō, a Hugo-nominated and IGNYTE-winning magazine of speculative fiction by immigrant and diaspora writers. Her fiction has been published or is forthcoming in Analog Magazine, LeVar Burton Reads, Writer’s Digest, and others. Learn more at www.aleksandrahill.com

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TL;DR: Legends & Lattes and its standalone prequel, Bookshops & Bonedust, live up to their promise of being novels of “high fantasy and low stakes.” These books are the literary equivalent of a warm hug: simple (but never trite) stories of individuals triumphing over the mundane and heroic that inspire the reader towards kindness at every turn. 

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I read Legends & Lattes in about two sittings a couple of weeks before it came out in November 2022—and then, well… life happened. We got a puppy; my first MFA thesis of the academic year was due two weeks after that; and then I was overwhelmed with work, gearing up for my second thesis of the academic year, and trying to handle the landshark that had taken up residence in our once-peaceful one-bedroom apartment. 

I thought of Legends & Lattes and the review I’d been meant to write for it every week since—not just out of the haunting of guilt that I’d still not gotten to it, but also out of how applicable it was. I found myself recommending it to anyone who mentioned that they’d been having a tough time—and, in the “post-COVID” years where it doesn’t ever truly feel like the pandemic is over and during which many other troubles have surfaced… well, that was pretty often.

It’s with incredible pleasure that I learned I had the chance to review the second book set in this world—which came out just today, November 7, 2023. 

Because this review will cover two books, it’s divided into two sections: one for those who have not yet entered the world of Legends and Lattes, and one for those who want to know a bit more about Bookshops and Bonedust in particular. However, these are both standalone books, and you can start with whichever one tickles your fancy more.

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Part 1: Legends and Lattes

Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree begins at the end. An orc by the name of Viv has just beaten what amounts to the Big Bad End Guy (BBEG) of her own adventure. And so… she decides to settle down and open a café in a city named Thune, where no one has heard of coffee (yet). She has a nest egg of gold that she’s saved up in her years of adventuring and a strong work ethic to make her dream a reality. It’s a far cry from her previous life, and a very different path than many of “her kind” take, as so many folks point out to her—but she’s determined to leave that past behind. What follows is the story of how the coffee shop comes into being.

This is not a nail-biter of a book: the reader never truly worries that she will end up homeless and destitute—the stakes are never quite that high. Rather, the challenge is whether she will give up on her dream and whether she is willing to continue trusting herself and the path that she has chosen and, more importantly, whether she is willing to ask for help—or, more critically, accept when others offer the help she so willingly and unquestioningly gives to strangers. 

It is a book that asks whether a person can truly change, and whether they can find happiness in that change; it also understands that being entirely self-reliant can be the same thing as being selfish, and that trust and faith in others can be more terrifying than fighting monsters. Perhaps most importantly: this is a book that made me want to be kinder and more open to those around me. I live in New York City, where often, the biggest kindness you can give others is space and privacy to live their lives—and yet, while reading this book, I found myself longing to connect more closely to the neighbourhood I’d lived in for the past seven (now eight!) years. Thanks to our now year-old puppy, Virgil (pictured right), and his exuberant friendliness and insatiable curiosity about the world, we’ve been able to make our neighborhood more of a home than ever. I’d like to think Viv would adore his goofy, chaotic self.

While I absolutely loved this book (as did many others—it was nominated for multiple awards and Baldree won the Astounding Award for Best New Writer in 2023), there are certain readers who will likely not enjoy it. In particular: if you are looking for higher stakes and extensive moments of tension—this book is not for you. Most challenges are vanquished almost as soon as they appear, which can give the feeling of a lot of stuff happening without much consequence (this is magically explained later in the novel, but that will not be satisfying for some, I presume!). The evolution of Viv’s café is also a big formulaic—from one type of coffee to two, from no pastries to one pastry to more, from tiny kitchen to large kitchen. If you’re looking for a book that goes into a realistic scenario of growing a food services business—this also probably isn’t for you (but I do highly recommend Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential to scratch that particular itch!). 

However, this is the perfect book for you if you: are looking for comfort and coziness, want a queer, low-drama romance, and/or delight in descriptions of food. I recommend it most for those who feel deeply lonely: it’s the type of book that makes you want to reach out to those around you, and that may inspire you to ask for—and allow yourself to receive—the help that you need. 

Legends & Lattes is available in the DM eBook store. So is Bookshops & Bonedust!

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Part 2: Bookshops and Bonedust

Bookshops & Bonedust is Baldree’s sophomore novel. This one starts at the beginning: we see Viv, the retired adventurer and main character of Legends & Lattes, on her very first campaign with the mercenary group Rackam's Ravens. It’s almost her last, too: she’s injured by the henchman of the necromancer Varine and just barely survives. But survive she does—only for Rackam and company to leave her in the seaside town of Murk to recuperate. Stuck in a place that takes all of about ten minutes to see (according to the innkeeper) and still healing from a thigh wound that requires dreadful amounts of bedrest, Viv’s worried that she might go crazy from boredom before Rackam comes to fetch her on their way back from hunting Varine—if they come back for her at all.

But while in Murk, Viv builds a community through her small acts of kindness. She befriends Fern, a rattakin who inherited her father’s slowly dying bookshop, her gryphet Potroas (for whom I would die)t, and a taciturn orc carpenter named Pitts. She also finds something more than friendship with Maylee, the local baker and a former adventurer herself. Readers of Legends & Lattes may also remember the name of Gallina, who appears in Bookshops & Bonedust as a young and somewhat annoying gnome desperate to be taken seriously enough to join a mercenary group. 

This book is also a great option for those who found Legends & Lattes a little bit too low-stakes but are on the lookout for cozy fantasy. It’s still definitely not a book that will set your heart racing at every turn of the page, but it does manage to keep a low level of concern throughout for what Varine the necromancer is up to, and has a greater antagonist arc than L&L managed. I appreciated how everything came together, both in the more mundane aspects of the plot as well as in the larger “BBEG” sense of the story. (With that being said, if you’re looking for a realistic Bookstore Simulator™, this isn’t the book for you—no mentions of consignment or returnability to be found here!)

Ultimately, this book is about much more than adventure and magic. At its core, it’s about what it means to connect with others and to trust them; it also thrums with Baldree’s love for stories. Fern teaches Viv to love reading; she does so not with force or snobbery, but by trying to understand who Viv is and what will make her, not Fern, and not anyone else, happiest. Bookshops and Bonedust also considers the price of friendship and what it means to stay in a place temporarily, including what we owe those who care for us when we’re just passing through their lives. It’s a deeply touching book, and, in the end, encourages the reader to take chances and connect with the world around them, just like Legends & Lattes did. 

Also like Legends & Lattes, this is a book for those who want something cozy and comforting; who love books about books; who are looking for quiet queer romance; and—of course—who want to learn more about Viv, the wonderful orc of the first installment of this series. 

You can find both Legends & Lattes and Bookshops & Bonedust in the DM eBook store!

Aleksandra (Ola) Hill is a Polish-Canadian SFFH writer and the founder and editor-in-chief of khōréō, an Ignyte and Shirley Jackson award-winning magazine of speculative fiction by immigrant and diaspora writers. She won the grand prize in the 2019 Writer’s Digest Popular Fiction Awards and is currently pursuing an MFA in writing at The New School. You can find her on Twitter at @_aleksandrahill.

 
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TL;DR: The Art of Prophecy by Wesley Chu is the first book of the War Arts Saga trilogy. Set in a secondary world inspired by wuxia, it's an exhilarating, action-packed start to a very promising series. It’s perfect for fans of subverted tropes and wuxia/martial arts, and readers who enjoyed The Stormlight Archive, She Who Became the Sun, and The Unbroken. 

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The Art of Prophecy by Wesley Chu follows the story of a Chosen One: Jian, who has been foretold to defeat The Eternal Khan, a warlord from the adjoining Katuia nation, and lead the Zhuun nation to victory by a five-hundred-year-old prophecy. But when Taishi, an old, ornery, one-armed war arts master, goes to check on Jian's training, what she finds is a spoiled, petulant boy taught so many different styles that he has learned nothing at all. Worse, news of the Eternal Khan of Katuia's death arrives soon after she does. The prophecy is broken, and Taishi must help Jian flee for his life from the political machinations of the dukes of Zhuun.

The premise of the series is an excellent subversion of the Chosen One trope as well as an absolute love letter to wuxia, a martial arts genre typically set in ancient China. The magic that features in this story is martial-arts-based; specifically, individuals have an inner energy (jing) that they can learn to master with training (as an aside, I think that the jing here is the same as the one of traditional Chinese medicine, making up the Three Treasures along with qi and shen. Based on my limited knowledge, I think qi is used more frequently; I’d love to hear why the author went with jing here instead). Many schools of martial arts exist, each with different jing-based abilities. For example, Taishi's school is Windwhisper, which lets her manipulate air currents to attack, defend, and—most excellently—fly using her jing. There are some other fantasy elements in the story, such as reincarnation, but it's all generally more subtle than, for example, channeling in The Wheel of Time; I would say it's much more similar to books like She Who Became the Sun, which has limited magic but still feels very much like a fantasy novel.

I absolutely loved reading this book, especially with Taishi as the point of view character. She's no-nonsense; she's highly skilled and knows it and yet, people continue to underestimate her both because of her age and because of her physical disability—one of her arms does not work. She's the kind of character I would be thrilled to see more of in fantasy. In fact, I loved her so much that I was deeply disappointed to learn that there would be other POV characters in the book! I didn't much care to enter Jian's head at first, since Chu manages to make him so deeply irritating from the start; the book also follows the stories of Salimande, an elite Katuia warrior and one of the Wills of the Khan, and Qisami, a ruthless, sardonic, and deeply chaotic bounty hunter I kept picturing as Awkwafina for some reason. 

While I was initially disappointed to be breaking away from Taishi, the multiple perspectives in the book let us get a much deeper, fuller picture of the world, especially the conflict between Zhuun and Katuia and all of the political forces at work. Katuia itself is a fascinating culture; they are a nomadic people within the Grass Sea, a dangerous land of monstrously large grass and ever-shifting landscape. The culture appears to be steampunk-esque, with moving cities that rely heavily on machinery and, I think, steam. Without giving anything away, I really can't wait to see how the world and all the people within it grow and change over the next two books; one of the final scenes of the novel has me more excited for a sequel than I’ve been since I can remember.

Furthermore, the reader sees a promising start to Jian’s evolution as a character, from annoying child-warrior who needs to learn something of the real world to… well, not a hero, not yet, but someone with the potential to be. I appreciate Chu’s restraint in not making Jian the golden boy right away and—to my great surprise, given my initial distaste for him—I’m excited to see how the character I genuinely found deeply annoying grows. 

The one thing I'll note: while the book was full of both tension and action, I did feel it sagged a bit in the middle. This might partially be my fault—I got absolutely knocked out by COVID when I was about two-thirds the way through and didn't pick this book back up for two weeks—but there is also some amount of setup and moving about in the middle of the book that slows the pace down. If you feel yourself getting a bit bogged in the details, I highly urge you to keep going—the parts that felt a bit unnecessary for me when I was reading them are, I think, going to be major parts in the next books, and I'm really excited to see where they go. 

I've been really hesitant about committing to series for the last little while, especially when it comes to long books (The Art of Prophecy clocks in at 528 pages in the hardcover edition, which is on the shorter side of "tome length", but still a big time investment!), but I find myself so excited to keep going with this trilogy. And, I was thrilled to learn while preparing this review, the series has been optioned for television, with The Wheel of Time's very own Uta Briesewitz set to direct. No word yet on the series premiere, but the next two books in the series are coming out in 2023 and 2024 so you don't have to worry about unpredictable years of waiting between the books after you start the series.
In all, I give my highest recommendation for this book, especially for anyone who is looking for an awesome, action-packed martial arts fantasy with multiple strong female leads. It's perfect for fans of She Who Became the Sun and The Unbroken, as well as those who enjoyed The Stormlight Archive with its sprawling world and battle scenes. And if you don’t know if any of those things are up your alley, trust me and give this book a chance. I’d love to hear what you think.
 

Aleksandra (Ola) Hill is a Polish-Canadian writer and the founder and editor-in-chief of khōréō, a magazine of speculative fiction by immigrant and diaspora writers. She won the grand prize in the 2019 Writer’s Digest Popular Fiction Awards and is currently pursuing an MFA in writing at The New School. You can find her on Twitter at @_aleksandrahill.

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TL;DR: The First Binding by R. R. Virdi is a South-Asian-inspired epic fantasy that builds heavily on the traditions of Tolkien, Rothfuss, and Jordan to create something startlingly original. Recommended for fans of The Kingkiller Chronicles and She Who Became the Sun. The first book in the Tales of Tremaine series, it’s a promising start to a complex, intriguing world.

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The First Binding is a hefty book, clocking in at over 800 pages. Those who are familiar with the genre will immediately recognize the structure of The Kingkiller Chronicles: a figure shrouded in magic and conflicting legends, myths, and tales tells—we think—his true story.

And that story is something. Ari, our protagonist, is now known as simply the Storyteller: a magician who wanders the world telling stories with hefty doses of magic both in them, and used in the performances thereof. Yet he once was an orphan working in the understage of a theater in the bustling city of Keshum. He knew nothing of his family or past, but does know stories: the legends of the creation of the world and the great heroes of lore, which are inspired from Hindu mythology/cosmology. It is clear how much the author loves both his source material and storytelling in general, and how deeply meaningful both are to him. Early on in the novel, Ari says: "I don't know if you're aware of what it's like to be deprived of your past, your parents. The idea that there is nothing connecting you to anyone in this world apart from your work. There is a certain hollowness, singular and all encompassing [sic], that fills you. The notion that you are all that is—nothing more—and when you're not much on your own, it's a rather crushing thing." (p.89). The manner in which Virdi weaves stories-within-stories-within-stories in this book is an absolute pleasure both in how they snuck up on me as a reader and how well they fit both the narrative and the philosophy: that a story, fuzzy as it is, is both identity and truth. 

Eventually, Ari encounters magic for the first time. When a Binder arrives at the theater, he learns not just that magic exists, but that he may learn it, too. In this world, magic is enacted through five pairs of Bindings, where each member of a pair acts as counterbalancing force to the other. These bindings are controlled by the "folds" of the mind—a compounding of your thoughts to create your own version of the world, reminiscent of the Mythbusters' quip of "I reject your reality and substitute my own." More folds result in stronger magic, or a stronger counterbalancing: if I use six folds to lob a stone at your head and you use eight to imagine yourself dodging it, then you will be safe; less, and you will probably end up with a lump on your forehead. Before Ari can learn any of the Bindings, he must learn the folds; before he can learn the folds, he must learn to settle his mind. The exercises he is first set to—the candle and flame—are strongly reminiscent of the flame and void that Tam teaches Rand in The Wheel of Time. Ari is promised the opportunity to study at a magic school named the Ashram if he works hard with his new teacher.

And he wants to learn: 

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"I knew what I really wanted in life. To birth my own flame. To understand fire and shape it the way it once had been eons ago. I didn't want to play in a story. I wanted to be the story. A legend in my own right. 

A child's ambition knows no bounds. And a man or woman who holds to that can go on to do great or horrible things." (p. 121)

 

Yet, before Ari can do so, tragedy strikes and he must put of his dreams of the Ashram a little bit longer. Perhaps the most marvelous part of this story is not the magic system (which I greatly enjoy), but the combination of Ari’s absolute determination to survive and succeed and his utter inability to hold his tongue—to the point of seeming to have a death wish at times. He's reminiscent of Matrim Cauthon in that sense: someone you can't help rooting for despite the fact that you're certain you'd want to thwap him over the head if you had to spend any time with him in person.

His personality is also perfect for the magic that exists in the world: he is hungry and ambitious in a way that I felt in my bones; he wants more viscerally than almost any character I’ve ever encountered. And that means that he lives on the edge of a knife. “There is a cost to magic—old magic especially,” a teacher tells him. “If you wish to enforce your will on the world, shape it—shift it—make it—break it, what do you think will be the cost, hm? If you wish to affect it, do you think you will be spared its effects on you? There. Are. Costs.” (p. 573). As Ari comes closer and closer to wielding magic as a child, the reader feels the tension rising, knowing that he can’t possibly fathom the costs and that there is a very real chance that he might not think about them until it’s too late. 

Though I found myself breathlessly reading many parts of this book, I do have to note that it was a very slow start for me. While it seems many readers found the prose compelling from the first page, I found it somewhat overdramatic; it eventually settles into competent, very readable writing. In larger part, however, I found Virdi's writing of female characters deeply irritating in a way that was reminiscent of the most outdated parts of The Wheel of Time —a gender essentialism that feels forced and unnecessary and like it belongs in the 1980s/90s. In the “present tense” sections of the book, Ari spends almost the entire time telling the story of his childhood to Eloine, the singer/temptress/’broken thing’ our narrator meets in the first chapters of the book. I flipped to a random page to draw an example: this isn’t the most egregious one I could remember, but it is representative: 

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"She had a point. Most women always do. But it can be a terrible danger to let them know you know that." (p. 45)

By this point, I had already annotated "omg, stopppp" in the margin: so many of these interactions feel so cliché that is seems the author is either trying to parody classic fantasy works or prove his own maturity in matters of romance. Eloine is at times coy, at times humourous, at times wounded—but only quietly so, hinting at trauma without ever speaking of it. In general, the various women in Ari's life all feel insufficient, foils for his experience and learning rather than true characters on their own (though, to be fair, many of the male characters are treated in the same way: Ari is, above all, a self-centered figure out of the need to survive).

Most importantly, all the past sections of this book (let's say about 500 pages of the total text) are told directly by Ari to Eloine, within the first few days of meeting, while hearing barely anything of her story—which translates to about thirteen hours of speech on Ari's part. The idea of listening to a monologue that long from a person I just met, regardless of gender, is truly horrifying and often pushed my suspension of disbelief to the point of breaking. If I hadn't promised to review this book, I would have likely given up within the first fifty pages, as many folks on GoodReads seem to have done.

But, I pushed on—and I’m glad I did. At page 97, I finally found myself pulled deeply into the world. My interest waxed and waned throughout; I inhaled the past tense and found myself often trudging through the present. Ultimately, however, I found myself so compelled by the magic system and the setting that I fell in love with the world. 

And, I suppose, Virdi would quote his book right back at me for my gripes:"[i]t's a horrible thing when someone asks for a story and isn't willing to patiently sit through it and listen" (p. 129). This one required a lot of patience for me; for others, I’m certain it will be a breeze. 

Above all, I believe that what he is trying to do is something excellent: pull something new into fantasy. It builds on familiar foundations while drawing from a well of tradition that has been underrepresented in fantasy. I am deeply curious about the life that Ari leads and how he ends up growing, changing, learning, suffering, loving, losing. If the “present tense” of the story were written as engrossingly as the “past tense” section, I would unquestionably continue on this series and await the next book eagerly. As it stands, I am mildly hesitant but overall hopeful and look forward to seeing where Virdi goes with Book 2.

I recommend The First Binding for any reader hungry for an epic fantasy that builds on the tradition of the ‘classic’ greats like Jordan, Rothfuss, and Martin while integrating South Asian lore. I most heartily encourage curious readers to give it a try. I hope to see this trilogy become successful—I want more stories like this one in the world, and I think Virdi is a strong early voice to build on this branch of the genre.

The First Binding is available in the Dragonmount eBook store. Find it here!

Reviewer Note: Quotations are pulled from the ARC of The First Binding; they may have been updated in the final version of the book.

 Aleksandra (Ola) Hill is a Polish-Canadian writer and the founder and editor-in-chief of khōréō, a magazine of speculative fiction by immigrant and diaspora writers. She won the grand prize in the 2019 Writer’s Digest Popular Fiction Awards and is currently pursuing an MFA in writing at The New School. You can find her on Twitter at @_aleksandrahill.

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TL;DR: The Hacienda by Isabel Cañas is a chilling, genre-bending gothic novel set in the wake of Mexico's War of Independence. Chock full of twists, it's a perfect read for anyone looking for a breathless read, including fans of Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, and The Book of Cold Cases by Simone St. James.

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This column is usually about fantasy. But in late May, I told Jason that I really, really wanted to yell about this new horror book, and could I pretty please do so.

He obliged.

Readers, I am so excited to tell you about The Hacienda by Isabel Cañas. Pitched as Mexican Gothic meets Rebecca, it tells the story of Beatriz, a young woman whose father was killed in the War of Independence. She and her mother can only find shelter with the disapproving Tío Sebastián and his cruel wife, Tía Fernanda. Beatriz knows her prospects are meager and dimming with every day she stays with her mother’s family, and so, she flees in the only way she can think of: by marrying Rodolfo, a mysterious young widower with an estate far from the city.

He spirits her away to his hacienda, San Isidro—and from the first moments, Beatriz realizes that this place is not what she thought it would be. The land is arid; the house is in disrepair; and nobody seems to have any kindness to offer her.

Soon, whispers begin to follow her. 

It is a standard haunted house narrative in that a person is trapped in a house first by their own hand, and then by the situation they have created, and they must learn to fight it lest it destroy them. Cañas captures the crescendo of the experience nicely, beginning with innocuous happenings and slowly bringing the reader and Beatriz herself to realize just how much danger she is in—and just how alone she is in her plight. Even as she finds an ally—more on him in a second—the house has ways of isolating individuals, speaking or acting only towards one person to further undermine their sense of self and leave the reader anxiously awaiting what will happen next. For those looking for an excellent spooky read, this will scratch all the itches you have.

But! The Hacienda weaves in so much more depth to the story. Like a typical Gothic novel, Cañas explores the horrors of societal expectations surrounding gender, leaving Beatriz stuck in dangerous situations because of social conventions, expectations, or simply because she is not seen as worth helping. However, the novel also focuses on classism and colorism, how dangerous and impossible power imbalances can be for the disenfranchised individual, religious zealots/pharisees, and the shape and impact of political revolutions. Each of the subplots and the themes they explore weave together into the main plot in a masterful way, making the story feel rich and complete. Perhaps my favourite part of the novel is one of the quieter question that many haunted house stories stop short of asking, let alone answering: what does it mean to find safe harbour after the violence and chaos of everything else that has passed? You’ll have to read and find Cañas’ proposed answer. 

Although I loved the book, I do want to note that the beginning read a little slow to me. This was in part because of the shifting perspectives. The appeal of gothic fiction to me rests, in part, from only seeing it through one person's eyes—especially as that person begins to question everything that happens and, eventually, their own sanity. To see the world through another character's lens was strange at first; it felt almost like cheating because I could see pieces of the puzzle I didn't feel like I should have access to yet. Perhaps because of this, I didn't initially click with the other point-of-view character: Andrés, a young witch who had grown up in San Isidro before fleeing into priesthood to avoid being caught by the Inquisition, and Beatriz's primary ally throughout the book.

If you find yourself in this position, I implore you to continue reading through it. Trust me: this book has one of the most perfect endings I have seen in a novel and it works primarily because of the dual perspective. I spent the last hundred and fifty pages curled motionless in an armchair; it feels like it's meant to be finished in one breathless sitting. I had already planned to recommend the book, but it was its ending that cemented the novel. 

Additionally, I also found Andrés' perspective growing on me throughout the story because it allowed me to learn about the house's past through a perspective that feels unique to horror. So often, houses are described as evil from the start, or not remembered as anything else. But Andrés shows us the love one can feel for a home that is now haunted and broken:

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"The house had more moods than a swallow had feathers. I was fond of its peevish spells; its impatient creaks and groaning inspired an urge in me to pat its side affectionately as I would a stubborn but lovable mule. As a child I knew this ancient house of spirits was unlike anything else I had ever seen. Now, after having stepped through the doorways of countless old houses, I knew it was unique." (p. 176)

There is something both magical and heartbreaking in seeing San Isidro through past and present, and witnessing the growth and change of Andrés and his power as well. His homecoming brings to mind the first moments of Rand's reunion with someone he thinks at first is a stranger at the Stone of Tear—long-awaited, desperately needed, and, in its initial moments, shockingly brutal. By providing two perspectives for the story, Cañas evolves the book beyond its Gothic roots, allowing her to address larger questions of home, family, and trust in ways that could not have occurred otherwise.

I absolutely loved this book and recommend it wholeheartedly for anyone who wants a delightfully chilling read. Cañas uncanny ability to weave the social realities of Beatriz's world into the supernatural horrors of the book makes the world feel lived in and real, rendering the things that go bump in the night that little bit scarier. I hope you love it as much as I did.

Aleksandra (Ola) Hill is a Polish-Canadian writer and the founder and editor-in-chief of khōréō, a magazine of speculative fiction by immigrant and diaspora writers. She won the grand prize in the 2019 Writer’s Digest Popular Fiction Awards and is currently pursuing an MFA in writing at The New School. You can find her on Twitter at @_aleksandrahill.

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TL,DR: The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake is a fast-paced, high-tension magical mystery perfect for those who dream of having the knowledge of the world at their fingertips. The first in a series, it sets up a large, twisted world that will keep the reader guessing throughout. Especially recommended for fans of dark academia (such as The Secret History, Ace of Spades, or The Magicians) and authors like V. E. Schwab and Leigh Bardugo. 

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I came into The Atlas Six knowing too much about it, though I'd only read the publisher's blurb. Thus, my first recommendation to you is: if you haven't read The Atlas Six yet, put this review away and go read it now. Not the Goodreads summary; not the jacket copy; not this review. Just read the book.

Still here? Need a little more?

All right: in a version of our world where magic exists in the open, once a decade, six of the world's most talented magicians are selected for the chance to become members of the Alexandrian Society. Entrance to the Society will allow a magician to access knowledge beyond their wildest dreams—but they must make it through a year of study, first.
Now, if you haven't read it yet, I beg you: go away.

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The remainder of this review won't include spoilers, but will touch on aspects of the novel that may be better savoured while reading, so please tread carefully.

The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake follows six of the world's most powerful, unique magicians: Libby Rhodes and Nico Ferrer de Varona, bitter rivals who can manipulate physical matter; Parisa Kamali, a telepath and seductress; Reina Mori, an historian with a difficult relationship with plants; Tristan Caine, an ambitious businessman with a penchant for seeing through illusions; and Callum Nova, a calculating trust fund baby who always gets what he wants. Each is recruited by a mysterious figure named Atlas, the Caretaker of the Alexandrian Society, which these six now have the chance to join. There's a catch, though: only five will become full members, and each candidate will have that year to prove they should be selected.

The novel is an excellent blend of suspense, action, and drama. It uses the mystery of a secret society to its fullest potential; while the six initiates are able to access the library of the Alexandrian Society, for example, they are not able to access all of the books—their requests can be denied, and frequently are. That both the characters and reader have the sense of seeing just a sliver of the whole is incredibly enticing and also serves the book well as a set-up to a series. 

The magic system is also exquisite, in that it is unknowable without being unbelievable. Each magician—the most powerful of whom are called medeians—has a specialty, which can range across fields from physical (manipulating fire) to mental (telepathy) and, presumably, anything in between. The vast landscape of the possible with magic means that the author can throw any number of twists at the reader effortlessly; Blake's talent lies in the fact that none of them feel like deus ex machina. None of the characters understand the true extent of magic's power or abilities, and so, even as they use their various skills and knowledge to help and hinder each other, they are constantly surprised by what they can do. The constant delight in learning what else is possible kept me reading, mostly in one sitting, so if you're going to pick up this book, I recommend clearing your calendar.

Throughout, the author also challenge's the tropes of the genre in which she is writing. I find it easy to get swept away in stories like this one: it's too easy to imagine myself as a powerful magician selected for a secret society where I'll have the world's knowledge at my fingertips. So easy, in fact, that I don't think to question too much of what the Society does, and the answers that it provides on its history—that it was founded to preserve the knowledge of the Library at Alexandria before it was burned—is enough. Yet the author managed to pull me up short without ruining my immersion: early on, the reader learns of the existence of societies "not unlike" the Alexandrian (p. 107), some of which believe "that knowledge should not be carefully stored, but freely distributed" and "greatly misunderstood" the work that the Alexandrian Society does. Later, the initiates make a discovery but do not share it with a greater world based on Atlas' oft-repeated warning: "most forms of knowledge [are] better reserved until it [is] certain that such revelations [won't] be abused" (p. 118). My spidey senses were tingling: these are colonialist talking points so frequently repeated by the British Museum and its ilk. While we don't wrestle with this too much in The Atlas Six, I hope (and trust) that we'll get to it thoroughly later on.

As quickly as I devoured the first half of the book, I found my interest waning later on—not because the book loses steam or control of its plot, but because the world grows vaster in a way that I had suspected it might, but hoped it wouldn’t. To be clear, that isn’t to say that the evolution is bad; it’s just that the risk posed by an opportunity of such vastness means that there will be a squillion plot possibilities, not a single one of which will make all the readers happy, but only one of which the author can choose and still write a cohesive story. I think I’m probably the one reader who was hoping for the story to go in a different way—and I'm still planning to keep reading the series and look forward to The Atlas Paradox's release in October 2022. There’s just too many questions that I want answered to not keep going.

In summary, The Atlas Six is a fantastic, fast-paced read for fans of dark academia, libraries, and twisty-turny plots. I recommend it wholeheartedly and look forward to continuing the series. 

The Atlas Six is available in the Dragonmount eBook store. Find it here!

 
Aleksandra (Ola) Hill is a Polish-Canadian writer and the founder and editor-in-chief of khōréō, a magazine of speculative fiction by immigrant and diaspora writers. She won the grand prize in the 2019 Writer’s Digest Popular Fiction Awards and is currently pursuing an MFA in writing at The New School. You can find her on Twitter at @_aleksandrahill.
 

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 TL;DR: The Starless Crown by James Rollins weaves together multiple storylines into a tapestry about family in all its forms, nature, and surviving foretold doom. The book's strength lies in its interest in humans' relationship with nature and is a good match for anyone looking for plot-heavy science fantasy.

Please note: This review contains very mild spoilers (first ~15% of the book). The spoilers are marked in the text and should be easy to skip.

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The Starless Crown by James Rollins is a long book by any count; clocking in at about 560 pages, it felt longer in the reading.

Part of this is the complexity of the tale. The author chooses four primary point-of-view characters: a young, blind student named Nyx; a thief who stumbles upon an alchemical secret while escaping the mines in which he has been imprisoned; a wayward prince living in the shadow of his older and evermore talented twin brother; and a knight who has broken his oaths. The author takes a page from Robert Jordan—whom he thanks in the acknowledgements—by adding in further, smaller POVs.

The pacing of the novel is as rapidfire as its shifts between narrators. I hadn't heard of the author before, but his publications seem to tend to the thriller genre, and this influence is clear. The story moves along with constant twists and turns; there is no situation that can't possibly get worse. There is death, violence, and betrayal; anything that can go wrong, will, especially in the case of our mainest main character, Nyx. 

Because of the combination of points of view and breakneck pace, I found it difficult to root myself in the book and feel like I was a part of the world. The signposts of the worldbuilding were certainly interesting; the action takes place on a planet called Urth, whose denizens worship the Father Above (the Sun); the Mother Below (the Urth); and the Son and Daughter (the faces of the moon). One part of the Urth is eternally in shadow, the other eternally in light: as you may have guessed, the world is a tidally locked Earth—and, as we learn throughout the story, a planet that natural catastrophe is yet to truly strike.

The question of humans' ability to understand and control nature is central to the book. Most clearly, this appears as the central Big Bad of the book: convincing other humans that this natural disaster will come to pass—and all of the politicking that goes along with that—and then deciding how to act in the face of impending doom. However, throughout the novel, natural phenomena feature as impediments at least as frequently as other humans do. Animals have evolved into unfamiliar and often dangerous beasts; there are few scenes in the wilderness, and even among civilization, that don't feature an animal behaving in an unexpected way. Some characters have unusual and deeply special links with various creatures—and even of the protagonists that don't, we still see an overarching care for other living things: cognizance of never hunting more than their allotted share; pain at the suffering one's actions bring. 

In spite of this theme, which intrigued me deeply, I found myself wanting more as I read. While the world had a lot of potential, I was ultimately left unsatisfied by how much is unchanged between our current society and this world's—not because I was looking for a utopia, but because it made the world feel incomplete. For example, young women are expected to be virgins to enter their Ninth Year at the Cloistery, but young men are not; the reason for this is unclear, aside from being a familiar callback to our own society's puritanical values. 

In addition, certain fantasy tropes are also inserted into the story without due consideration, and often pulled me from immersion in the book. For example, a character named Pratik, who was imprisoned only to make another character's life more difficult, is described:
 

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 "...as if a shadow had been given form, a sculpture of polished ebonwood. ... He had been stripped naked, except for the collar of iron forged around his neck. His black skin, from buttock to shoulder, bore a map of white scars from the bite of whips. [... He] turned, revealing eyes of a mesmerizing violet—along with a feature unique to the Chaaen. Between his legs was nothing but a tuft of hair and a mutilation." (p.190)

 

A POC-coded character defined by the violence done to his body is suboptimal at best, even without the cliché of uniquely coloured eyes. Furthermore, the society from which this character comes is described as cruel and bloodthirsty, but the character's face is "placid, as if he had accepted such cruelties as part of life." His ‘goodness’ is signaled by this stoicism and further emphasized by Pratik’s response when a character accidentally causes a number of Pratik’s countrymen’s death: "Despite the tragic outcome, there was wisdom in your plan." (p. 193) This benign goodness flattens everything that Pratik could be and places him as one-dimensional support. At best, these descriptions and character choices are thoughtless regurgitation of antiquated tropes; at worst, it’s something far more harmful. I’m still not sure if the author’s use of the phrase “noble savagery” (p. 246) was ironic or oblivious or had some other intent. This uncertainty isn't comforting. 

All told, it feels as if this book was written with an eye to diversity without wanting to engage in what diversity means. This goes beyond race and gender. It is somewhat rare, for example, to see disabled protagonists in fantasy; thus, I was really excited to follow Nyx's story. A seventh year student in her town's monastery, Nyx is visually impaired: though not fully blind, she has never seen more than the shadows of the world around her. 

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SPOILERS FOR THE FIRST 15% OF THE BOOK
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I was surprised—and not a little disappointed—to discover that she's miraculously cured early on in the book. While her healing reveals something for the larger plot, her disability felt a little like a dangled carrot that got quickly snatched away (I will note here: while I can’t see more than a foot in front of me without my glasses, I am not blind myself). 

As an aside, her new sight also draws larger sociopolitical issues to mind without fully resolving them. For example, the head of the Cloistery where Nyx studies, Prioress Ghyle, is "darkly complexioned, her skin far darker than Nyx had imagined" (p.72) —yet there's nothing in the world of the book that suggests this might be surprising and why. It felt more like the author's hand drawing the reader's eye to racial representation in the book than a natural elucidation of social structures in the book's world.

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Lastly, this book felt like it needed another editing pass. In some parts, the prose is purple and rhythmless, so focused on using a thesaurus for each word that the sentences lose their poetry; in others, it's jarringly direct ("She was shapely of form and generous of bosom", p. 336). Often, a word is repeated multiple times within a sentence or two. While these certainly aren't dealbreakers—and only came to mind in some parts of the book—readers who are particularly sensitive to language may want to come into this story with their loins girded. 

Ultimately, this book did not rise to its promise on the jacket copy: this is not “a fantasy series unlike any attempted before.” It doesn’t feel like it’s tried covered much new ground at all. Still, there are images in the world building—the grandiosity of the structures; the overwhelmingness of nature—that will appeal to certain types of readers, especially those who want a lot of plot decorated with a lot of pretty things. It will be particularly enjoyable for those who love a good bit of wilderness in their stories. 

The Starless Crown is available in the Dragonmount eBook store. Find it here!

Aleksandra (Ola) Hill is a Polish-Canadian writer and the founder and editor-in-chief of khōréō, a magazine of speculative fiction by immigrant and diaspora writers. She won the grand prize in the 2019 Writer’s Digest Popular Fiction Awards and is currently pursuing an MFA in writing at The New School. You can find her on Twitter at @_aleksandrahill.

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TL,DR: Mordew by Alex Pheby is a grim, subversive fantasy about a young boy, Nathan, who lives in the slums of the eponymous city and bears a magical Spark. It's a solid read for those who aren't looking for a lighthearted escape, who are comfortable with stories that don't give all the answers and are told at an emotional distance.

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  Mordew is a hefty first entry of the Cities of the Weft trilogy written by Alex Pheby. It follows Nathan Treeves, a young boy living in Mordew with his mother and very sick father. The world-building is gloriously grimy, reminiscent of the cover itself: all grays and grimness. Living Mud coats the streets of the slums that Nathan calls home; this mud can spontaneously create mutated-looking creatures called dead-life that may or may not remain viable. At the start of the book, we see Nathan wading into the Circus on the west side of Mordew to 'fish' for self-sustaining dead-life: anything he might sell to purchase the medicine his father needs. Nathan can Spark—call up some sort of wild magic from deep within himself—and, in spite of his father's command never to do so, uses this ability to find one such creature. It is "a bundle of infant limbs—arms, legs, hands, feet—a tangle of wriggling living parts" (p.23) made even more horrific by Nathan's cavalier attitude towards it. He sticks it into his bag and trots off to sell it; such abominations are commonplace in this world.

The services of the medicine woman he purchases with the money from the sale is insufficient. Thus, in order to pay for her husband's medicine, Nathan's mother sends her only son to the mysterious Master who rules over the city in hopes that Nathan will be chosen—for what? Nobody really knows, but needs must: a consistent refrain of Mordew.

A sense of hopelessness runs throughout the story and never truly goes away; this isn't a book—or, presumably, a series—made for happy endings or shiny, escapist magic. Just as Nathan fights constantly for his own survival and that of his father, so too does the Master of Mordew fight a seemingly eternal war against the Mistress of Malarkoi, who sends Firebirds to break the city's walls. There is little room for love or joy in these pages, so if that's something you're looking for, then this isn't the novel for you. 

It also isn't for readers who want all the answers. The book begins with a very clear warning: to take care in referencing the glossary, which clocks in at over 100 pages long, as it contains information that the protagonist doesn't know; and that "perhaps the ideal reader of Mordew is one who understands that they, like Nathan Treeves (its hero), are not possessed of all knowledge of all things at all times. They progress through life in a state of imperfect certainty and know that their curiosity will not always be satisfied immediately (if ever)" (p.7). 

My memory isn't the best, so I'd forgotten those cautionary words by the time I was a bit into the book. It wasn't until I rediscovered it that I felt like I understood the author's intent. To put it plainly, the reading experience, after the first few pages, feels like one is observing the action through a thick pane of glass. Nathan's feelings are, for the most part, inaccessible, though the reader follows him closely throughout the story. This often felt frustrating, as the character's reactions and motivations were, for the most part, opaque. For example, one character dies in a fall, seemingly pushed by another who had already shown rather suspicious tendencies. Nathan and an accomplice conclude that they have to confront the "pusher" to understand what happened, rather than dismiss them as a traitor. While this might certainly be a reasonable reaction, especially given the child in question is a lonesome one who might be desperate to cling to any semblance of friendship, it felt like it was left up to the reader to ascribe motive and rationale to the actions rather than truly understanding them. The same is true of Prissy, the book's primary love interest: Nathan's devotion to her is clear, but it's hard to understand why it exists and, thus, to truly feel it.

At first, I thought this might be because the author was hesitant to write the inner monologue of an impoverished thirteen-year-old boy—which seems somewhat understandable, given how a combination of desperation and Big Teenage Feelings might be hard to do without veering into the maudlin. But I think, given the introductory warning, it's a more purposeful move on the part of the author. The narrator itself seems to confirm this by not being as close a third person as one might initially expect; at least twice, the book reveals moments that "Nathan saw none of" (p. 380) but that the reader has clearly witnessed. It's unclear who, in fact, is telling us the story—one character is conscripted to help with a task, but "he was sworn to secrecy on the matter, so no more will be said of this." The magic system, too, is tenuous at best, the reader's knowledge of it as patchy as Nathan's. The book is a consistent exercise in incomplete information, whether on the part of the characters or the reader.

Ultimately, this construct doesn't work for me simply because it doesn't give me the emotional investment that I (personally) need as a reader. Being on the outside like this makes it feel like I am seeing the hand of the author too clearly, like he is moving chess pieces around on a board in order to progress the plot in a way that he deems fit. I was drawn to the beginning of the novel, yet felt myself dragging through the vast majority of the rest of it, with the exception of several sections. Indeed, the word that stuck out to me most at the start of the novel was "purpose"; the text questioned what function a machine, or a chain, or some other object performed, often without providing an answer. The author appears intent on subverting the idea of purpose. You can't truly know what function everything in the world has, and thus you can't know what you're doing or what effect it'll have on the future. There's a potential pointlessness to everything our hero does, then, that speaks to an existential ennui. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's certainly not for everyone, and it wasn't what I needed or wanted two years into a pandemic. Still, the ending of the book felt immensely satisfying in that I understood, I think, what the author wanted to achieve, and I believe that he achieved it. Teasing apart what in the novel worked for me and what didn't was deeply delightful in and of itself, and even though I don't plan to continue reading the series, I'm glad that I pushed through.

At my most judgmental point of reading, I might have said that this book is one for those insecure about loving genre, who need to prove to themselves or others that fantasy can be 'literary' in the way that any depressing story seems to be when contrasted with a joyful one. But I think that does Mordew a disservice: it is a book for those who realize that, if magic were real, not every story would culminate in a satisfying hero's arc complete with enlightenment. We might begin in hopeless circumstances with no guidance, leaving us to use our adolescent imaginations as best we can to figure out what to do and take our beatings when we get it wrong. It isn't satisfying, per se, but it is an exploration that might provide a sort of pleasure to a certain sort of reader. For those intrigued by such a premise, I recommend Mordew heartily. 

Mordew is available in the Dragonmount eBook store. Find it here!

Aleksandra (Ola) Hill is a Polish-Canadian writer and the founder and editor-in-chief of khōréō, a magazine of speculative fiction by immigrant and diaspora writers. She won the grand prize in the 2019 Writer’s Digest Popular Fiction Awards and is currently pursuing an MFA in writing at The New School. You can find her on Twitter at @_aleksandrahill.

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TL; DR: A Marvellous Light is a delightful Edwardian fantasy and the first in a series. Centered around a murder and a mysterious curse and heavily interspersed with both humour and steamy scenes, it’s perfect for fans of Sorcerer to the Crown, Magic for Liars, and Silver in the Wood.  

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A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske is set in Edwardian England where magic exists, but is a secret kept by those who can use it. Robin Blyth—decidedly not a magician—is thrust into what seems to be a dead-end government job as a minor act of social revenge, only to learn that he has become a liaison between the magical and non-magical worlds since his predecessor disappeared two weeks before. It is there he meets Edwin Courcey, a gentleman from a long magical line who has very little power for himself. When Robin is cursed by a man wearing a mask made of shadows, Edwin takes it upon himself to lift it before it’s too late. 

There are dozens of books set in some historical version of England, so starting this story can feel like donning a particularly cozy sweater that you’ve owned for many years. While there’s a certain delight in familiar tropes, it can be hard to make these kinds of stories feel fresh. What really sold me on this particular one was the way magic is described in the books. Using it relies on “cradling” one’s spells using one’s hands. Children learn to do this using string, much like one might play a game like cat’s cradle; most adults dispense with the aid. The imagery of this made me think very much of a “modern” version of channeling that one sees in The Wheel of Time. The system itself is relatively soft, with many open questions and unknowns, but there’s a decided academic bent to it: I would love, for example, to see an illustration of the system of notation used to communicate these spells.

I would also kill to be able to see the murderous hedge maze in the flesh. But not, you know, be murdered by it. That’s no fun.

The magic is immersive partially because of how mundane it is. That isn’t to say that we only see individuals stirring their coffee with a levitating spoon in the book (though that does happen); rather, throughout the course of the novel, we get to see the inventiveness of magicians in all aspects of life, whether it’s home security or afternoon games for rich young adults with nothing better to do. There’s a constant feeling of play within the magic that makes it feel a million times more desirable to me.

Interestingly, contracts and consent also play a large role in the magic system. To start, humans have been able to do magic due to a contract that’s been passed down through generations (which brings up a fascinating question around the distribution of magic: why do some children receive more magic than others, and some none at all?). But magic itself also has contractual constructs within it. For example, having a pen write by itself requires imbuing the pen with the desire to be helpful and setting out the terms and parameters of the spell; every spell seems to be a negotiation of sorts. A family setting up a home can also make a blood bond with the land using similar terms, asking it to accept them and receiving certain protections in return. Given Britain’s history of colonialism, this makes for an interesting perspective on what it means to have and own land as a magician and would certainly make for interesting inheritance-related shenanigans (could I run over to a friend’s house and claim it for my own if the land liked me better?). 

This constant focus on contracts and agreement also makes it feel utterly natural that Edwin is a particularly thoughtful romantic lead when it comes to consent. I don’t read a lot of romance, so I don’t have a strong understanding how writers have treated consent in the past, but I did appreciate how Edwin always checks for enthusiastic consent in a way that never intrudes on the scene or makes it any less steamy (I’d argue that the anticipation only adds to the effect, actually). 

On the note of romance: this book is heavy on romance, to an extent that I didn’t quite expect from the marketing, and there are scenes that made me double check that no one was reading over my shoulder on the subway. It certainly wasn’t a drawback for me—I loved every moment of Edwin and Robin’s growing relationship almost (but certainly not quite) as much as I loved Nynaeve and Lan’s storyline in Wheel of Time. A nerd and a himbo, an introvert and an extrovert, a magician and a non-magician—they balance each other out marvelously well on the page. The tenderness with which they treat each other’s differences is also particularly well rendered. One line that particularly struck me:

“You are the most fascinating thing in this beautiful house. I’d like to introduce my fists to whoever taught you to stop talking about the things that interest you.”

I don’t think I’m the only one on this site who grew up loving something (like, say, a book series that’s just now becoming a TV show) and being shut down from talking about it, so hearing someone say this—even if it was a fictional character, even if it wasn’t to me—was a balm. With all this said, however: the focus of the book lies equally on them as it does the mystery of the murder and the curse, so if you’re looking for just the latter with none of the former, this might not be the right book for you. 

In sum, I read this book in two sittings and wish I had the luxury to do it in one (it would’ve been if the past few weeks hadn’t been a hellish chorus of responsibilities all coming to a head). The combination of mystery, magic, and romance was utterly enthralling and perfect for the exhaustion brought on by the end of the year/everlasting pandemic. I recommend this book heartily to anyone who enjoys historical fantasy or magical mysteries, or who is looking for a steamy queer romance. It combines the humour of Sorcerer to the Crown with the academic overtones of Magic for Liars and combination of romance and magic of Silver in the Wood.  

A Marvellous Light is available in the Dragonmount eBook store. Find it here!
 

Aleksandra (Ola) Hill is a Polish-Canadian writer and the founder and editor-in-chief of khōréō, a magazine of speculative fiction by immigrant and diaspora writers. She won the grand prize in the 2019 Writer’s Digest Popular Fiction Awards and is currently pursuing an MFA in writing at The New School. You can find her on Twitter at @_aleksandrahill.

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TL;DR: She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan is a glorious first book in an epic historical fantasy duology. Set in 14th-century China, it brings to mind Mulan crossed with A Song of Ice and Fire. It’s perfect for fans of political intrigue, war, and a main character who strives for glory—whatever it takes.

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Destiny isn’t exactly a new theme in literature. Prophecies frequently figured into Greek tragedies and have been used heavily in fantasy since then, including about half a dozen different ones appearing in our beloved Wheel of Time series. Characters learning about and fulfilling their destinies, or working to “change their stars”, are common enough to risk being cliches. 

What I haven’t seen as much of is characters literally taking someone else’s destiny for their own. 

She Who Became the Sun begins with a girl, her brother, her father, and the starving village where they live. A local fortune teller tells the brother that greatness is in his future: that “his deeds will bring a hundred generations of pride to the family name.” 

For the girl, he sees… nothing. Just nothingness. 

And so, when her brother dies, she takes his fate for herself. Zhu, known only as ‘the girl’ until the moment she begins using her brother’s name, leaves the village to join a monastery as a novice using his identity and her own tenacity. Yet even climbing within the ranks of the monks proves to be insufficient to guarantee Zhu’s safety and comfort when the outside world forces its way into the monastery—and so we embark upon Zhu’s true journey towards (possible) greatness.

The historical setting of the novel is particularly brimming with opportunity. Taking place in 1345, when China is under Mongolian rule, the book explores two interlinked concepts of political philosophy: tiānmìng, the Mandate of Heaven, which provides the right to rule; and the Right of Rebellion, which provides moral ground for overthrowing an unjust ruler (I’ll take this opportunity to note that I’m neither a philosopher, nor political scientist, nor a scholar of Chinese history; I beg the forgiveness of those who are better versed in these subjects for any gross oversimplification!). At the beginning of the book, a descendant of Kublai Khan holds power and thus the Mandate of Heaven. While Zhu is the main character of the novel, the reader is also able to dive into a number of different points of view in the second part of the novel, including two on the Mongolian side. The first of these, Esen, is a prince and a rising star of the court thanks to Ouyang, who is a famed general, eunuch, and Esen’s best friend. Through their eyes, we see not only the Mongolians’ battle to retain power versus the rebelling Chinese, but also the smaller power struggles within a cutthroat court. 

On the rebel’s side, we see the world through Zhu’s eyes, as well as those of Ma, an young woman with no family who is betrothed to a rebel leader’s bumbling, inept son. While, as a reader, one naturally sides with the rebels clearly living under an oppressive rule, their own faction is rife with the same issues that plague the party in power: unchecked ambition, betrayal, and greed. 

The struggle for power is enriched by one of the themes running through the novel: that of identity, especially in light of gender, sex, and relationships. For one, Zhu is born a woman and lives as a man, yet gender has not—in my reading—been of particular import to them except as a tool, even though it matters so much to the society that they live in. Their relationship with Ma, who is ensnared by society in her identity as a woman, provides an additional layer of depth to Zhu’s character that had me riveted to the page. In addition, Ouyang provides a strong counterpoint and foil to Zhu’s on views of gender by his status as a eunuch, especially in light of his relationship to Esen, a man who has never had to question his identity or place in the world. In contrast, Ouyang is held in contempt by the court, considered a sort of in-between thing rather than a man. These facets of identity play off of each other, deepening the tension and raising the stakes for every scene. 

Importantly, this may not be an epic fantasy series in the way that readers of Jordan, Sanderson, Bardugo, and Jemisin might think of it. Specifically, there is no magic system of weaves or elements or spells; nor are there mythological creatures. Rather, the fantasy (if, indeed, it is fantasy*) comes from the personification of the Mandate of Heaven and the unquestionable existence of destiny, as well as the existence of (ancestral) ghosts. Some characters can see the dead, for example; in addition, the Mandate of Heaven is clearly visible to individuals. Zhu can also feel Heaven’s eyes on them, especially if they act outside of the character of Zhu. 

^{_{*Writing this as a non-religious Polish-Canadian scientist/writer, the existence of something like Heaven, fate, and ancestral spirits are fantasy to me—but they may be very real to others.}} 

This may be a different feeling to fantasy for many, especially when thinking of epic fantasy. There is no magic school and no focus on harnessing supernatural power in ways that you might expect. However, I never felt anything but enchanted by the world that Parker-Chan has created, both from the beauty of their writing and the sheer immenseness of the history that they have chosen to reimagine, and that’s everything that I’ve ever wanted from fantasy. Daes Dae’mar and battles like Dumai’s Wells were integral to The Wheel of Time—as are the politics and battles in this book.

She Who Became the Sun swallowed me whole from the very first page and didn’t let go until I emerged, blinking into the sunlight and slightly disoriented, at the end of the story. I was enthralled by Zhu as a highly flawed protagonist, enraptured by Esen and Ouyang, and enamored of Ma. Most of all, I love how unapologetically queer this book is and how deeply it explores love, sex, and gender against a truly epic backdrop. It’s one of my favourite books of the year, but I particularly recommend it to those who love political and military fantasy, alternative history, queer fantasy, and flawed protagonists. 
 

In this story, Robert Endicott comes from a family gifted with heraldry—a sort of foretelling for people, places, and things.  This innate ability gets him noticed as a possible student for the Duchess’s New School, a program that teaches dynamics, a form of magic that derives from shifting probability and the physics of thermodynamics. 

As Endicott and his classmates get further into their training, they learn that the New School’s not as safe as they thought.  The previous year’s trainees suffered fatalities in their studies and the courses this year aim to keep the students from the same mistakes.

To make matters worse, rumors of Nimrheal—a mythical figure who outlawed innovation and is credited with killing mathematicians and inventors in the past—begin to circulate and riots break out in his name.  The real threat of mishandling the magic and the perceived threat of Nimrheal push Endicott down a road he never intended to take.

Some reviews of Lee Hunt’s Dynamicist claim that mathematics is just as important as magic within the world of this trilogy.  This idea was so intriguing, and as a math teacher, I knew I had to read this book.  While Dynamicist only scratches the surface of this magic system, there is the promise of more to come as the series continues.  This view of magic is unique and I enjoyed the tie in to math and science.  

Endicott is a likeable hero.  He struggles to learn the needed academic skills and form bonds with his new classmates.  Raised on a farm, Endicott is naïve about the city and his interactions with others.  Because of his humble upbringing, he approaches these relationships and situations with an honest sincerity that’s refreshing.  He wants to discuss poetry and his emotions.  He constantly analyses himself.  He realizes he has a weakness for protecting others, and this love drives his character forward.

This book was an enjoyable read and a great introduction to a new world and a new magic system. I’m very excited to finish the trilogy and see how fleshed out the math magic can get!

The second book in the series, Herald, was released on audiobook earlier this month!  I listened to the audiobook for Dynamicist and recommend it.  The narration by Craig A. Hart is well done.  His emotions come through for each character.

To read more on Lee Hunt and the rest of the Dynamicist trilogy, you can visit his website.

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab

Is a life worth living if it is spent alone? As we are faced with the growing truth that we are mortal I am sure at one time or another we have all fantasized about what we could do with time without end. I have often pondered what I would be willing to give up for even an extra fifty years of life on earth. In her most recent novel V.E. Schwab gives us the opportunity to dance through time as we follow young Addie LaRue. She exchanged her soul for a life without end, but it didn’t come without a price. 

As Friedrich Neitzsche once said, “The devil is in the detail”. This is a lesson that Addie would have been wise to take to heart. Stifled and caged by her gender and rural surroundings of Villon-sur-Sarthe, France in 1714, Adeline dreamed of a life without obligation. A life full of wonder, new experiences, and the freedom of choice. It is this desire that leads her to be cursed by her own hand. She makes a deal with the devil to live until she is done with it. “You can have my soul when I don’t want it anymore,” she promises, and that’s all it takes to erase the life she had once known.  

I love when something I read doesn’t spark a memory or a comparison to another book. That speaks to my soul as something wholly original that needs to be read. To be honest I have not read many fantasy novels that take place in our own world. I prefer to be transported to another world, but I knew within the first few chapters that this book was something different. 

The best way I can describe it is a dance through time, seen through the eyes of Addie. As she navigates our modern world as something like a spectator, we are given a passport to her past. All of her 300 long years of life adding up to the final decision we see her make. 

There are no large action sequences or epic battles, except perhaps the entanglement between Addie and the Devil for her soul. Even still the book moves. I was carried through the pages by the desire to see if her road would come to an end. Was this to be a story about the entirety of her life? Or just a snapshot of her struggle? As I read the last words, I found myself aching to know more, but not so much so that I was dissatisfied. I believe that to be the hallmark of a tale well told. I was and am still impressed by how beautifully this story was written. V.E. (Victoria) Schwab has gained a new fan.  

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab is available from Dragonmount's store as a DRM-free ebook. You can also purchase it on Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and your local independent bookseller. 

The Child of Chaos by Glen Dahlgren

In mother nature there is balance. For every dark night there is the light of day; for every devastating fire there is new life. In a world that is created by order, there will be a need for chaos to create harmony. In the young adult fantasy fiction world, there is a tendency by authors to follow a familiar path. As my fellow lovers of the fantasy and science fiction genre know, many authors can easily fall victim to this trap (Not that it means we love them any less!). Glen Dahlgren’s debut novel The Child of Chaos takes a new approach to the genre that was refreshing. Many in our fandom will know him as the lead designer of the Wheel of Time video game—which was released in 1999—but I suspect you will come to love him as a fantasy author as well.

The story is told mostly in alternating points of view between the hero and the villain. Our hero, young Galen, and his former friend Horace grow up quite quickly as their lives careen off of their predestined paths. Dahlgren creates a polytheistic religious system in which people feel called by “The Longing” to serve their God. Those not tied to the temples are faithless and expected to pay their tithe to the Order. The different Gods come together to create harmony and order, but what happens when Chaos is thrown into the mix? Galen is a young man with a powerful imagination who does not fit into the black and white world in which the faithless live. In the end it is his differences that make him exactly what the world needs.

At times the novel surges forward in leaps and bounds and you are never able to truly anticipate what lays ahead on the next page. The characters, religion and unique magic system are incredibly well developed. I personally would have liked even more world building, though as a disciple of Jordan I tend to live by the motto “more is more,” which is not for everyone.  As I have stated before, I love reviewing debut novels as it is exciting to see where burgeoning authors’ careers will go. The Child of Chaos is a very nice addition to the fantasy genre and one that I recommend to both new fantasy readers and to those of us who forever dwell in this literary realm. 

The Child of Chaos by Glen Dahlgren is available at Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and your local independent bookseller. 

Master of Poisons by Andrea Hairston

The world we are living in is rife with crisis and bubbling with change. This novel landed in my lap at the perfect time. As I read, I drew many parallels to our unpredictable lives in 2020. The standalone novel, Master of Poisons written by Andrea Hairston is a richly diverse epic fantasy saga. The story is filled with familiar fantasy accoutrement that is woven together with African influences.  The book raised many poignant questions for me that are resonant with our lives today. What are you willing to give up in order to change the future? How do you stand up to corruption? How long can our planet withstand our blatant disregard for the warnings it's presenting to us? 

The African-inspired world Hairston created stands on the precipice of destruction. A poisoned desert is destroying their physical world and the world found in dreams and hearts, the Smokeland. The leaders who are supposed to be looking out for their people’s best interests only seem to care about their own gain. Djola, The Master of Poisons and the right hand of the Emperor is willing to give up everything to save their world. The rest of the council is unwilling to see past their own self-interests and limiting beliefs. Djola sets off alone in search of the cure for the poisoned desert but discovers so much more. 

In another part of the world there is a young garden Sprite Awa, who is trying to find where she belongs after being abandoned by everyone she ever loved. Her journey with the griots expands her knowledge of the world and its stories, but it also shows her the measure of her own inner strength. The epic journey of these characters was enough to pull me through to the end of the novel. Yet, at times I found myself referring back to the glossary, and rereading passages to gain further understanding. The world building was an immensely impressive feat that at times borders on overly complex. There were moments of brilliant prose that kept me aching for more. The chapters written from the view of the animals were always captivating, and the songs and spells woven into the text were beautiful. 

Master of Poisons is a novel that is worth a second read to fully gain an understanding of the layers of subtext. The magic system used is unique and unlike anything I have ever read. It gives me hope for the continued creativity of the fantasy genre. I truly appreciated the subtle way in which Hairston integrated issues of today without feeling as if I was being taught a lesson. Her ability to construct such a detailed world was inspiring to me as both a reader and a writer. I am looking forward to exploring her other works.

Master of Poisons by Andrea Hairston is available from Dragonmount's store as a DRM-free ebook. You can also purchase it on Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and your local independent bookseller. 

The Collapsing Empire by John Scalzi

I have reached an important conclusion concerning my identity as a reader. I am officially a science fiction fan. I can go on to add a willing and excited reader of science fiction. I am new enough to the genre to know I still have a lot to explore, but my first few forays in the world of science fiction have been a triumph. The Collapsing Empire by John Scalzi is no exception. In fact, since finishing this book I have already gone on to begin book two. In my mind that is the highest compliment I can give to an author; to immediately read more of their works. 

I learned that for me to truly invest myself into the world a fantasy or science fiction author creates, there has to be a certain level of familiarity. A blend of what truly exists in our world and the unique features of the universe that they have created. It is a delicate balance to borrow and adapt without seeming to “steal” too much of our reality. It is a dance I face daily in my own writing, and one that I think Scalzi executes masterfully. 

Being a relative newb to this genre, I often find myself rereading passages to make sure I understand what is being conveyed. When reading The Collapsing Empire, the rules of the world were presented in such a fashion it was almost as if I had always known of their existence. I hesitate to give away too much of this gem, but the book is set up as the possible future of the human race after Earth has been lost, or at least deemed uninhabitable. The majority of the population is spread throughout the universe and living on planets that are not truly inhabitable. The only civilization that lives on a planet’s surface, is the End.  In order to survive they make use of The Flow, to sustain trade and keep each planet supplied with that they need to survive. The Flow, which is essentially a one-directional worm hole between planets is essential to the survival of the entire Interdependency. The question becomes, what happens when this pivotal network no longer functions as it should? 

Since its founding, the Interdependency has been led by the Emperox from the Wu family, and as the story begins the leader of the Universe is dying and his unwilling daughter is preparing to assume the weight of the entire system on her shoulders. As is true of any ruler, there are those who wish to control, or even replace her right from the first moments of her rule. While most of the story is told from only three characters' point of view, we are shown the deep impact of their decisions on the fate of the human race. 

This succinct and captivating novel can easily be finished in one midafternoon reading marathon, and Scalzi’s characters are so engaging that you truly won’t want to put it down. As I read the last sentence, I found myself feeling very grateful that I was able to immediately begin the next book in the series. I think having to wait for the next book would have been a reader’s torture. Do yourself a favor and pick up this book to have on hand for when you have a few hours to yourself. I can confidently say that you will enjoy this highly accessible Space-opera. 

The Collapsing Empire by John Scalzi is available from Dragonmount's store as a DRM-free ebook. You can also purchase it on Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and your local independent bookseller. 

Binti by Nnedi Okorafor

There is great beauty in a willingness to see the world through someone else’s eyes. I have come to find it even more important in our world’s changing and uncertain times to surround myself with media that helps to broaden my worldview. In my opinion it is truly one of the best things about literature, more so than any other medium. Reading requires you to use your imagination and visualize. A well written book can take you to another world and allow you to walk in someone else’s shoes.

Binti is a 2015 award-winning science fiction novella by Nnedi Okorafor. Our main character Binti is a sixteen-year-old minority prodigy.  She is offered a position at the prestigious Oomza University, something that no one else in her village would ever consider. Part of the Himba people, Binti was always destined to succeed her father in their business. The Himba people are deeply tied to their ancestral land, and they believe that if you move away you will begin to diminish. They even coat their bodies in a special material “Otjize” made from a red clay from the earth and the oil from local flowers. It is what makes Binti’s resolve to venture out into the universe even more inspiring. 

Surrounded by people foreign to herself, Binti finds similarities in a love of learning. She quickly makes friends and becomes more comfortable with the idea of being so far from home. Much like in real life, Binti’s leap of faith is not met with an easy road. She is faced with challenges and strife and is forced to find her own inner strength. I would recommend this book to fantasy and sci-fi readers alike. It is a quick read and offers a story that is richly woven with ethnic issues. I am excited to read the next two novellas in the series. 

Binti by Nnedi Okorafor is available from Dragonmount's store as a DRM-free ebook. You can also purchase it on Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and your local independent bookseller. 

A Memory Called Empire

By Arkady Martine

Some of my first and fondest memories as a child are of hiding in my closet with a camp light so that I could read, undisturbed, for the entire day. I devoured all forms of fiction, with the exception of one.... Science Fiction. Over the years I have given several Sci-Fi novels a chance, but none managed to hold my interest till the end. When I was presented with A Memory Called Empire to review, I knew that for the first time that streak was going to come to an end. What surprised me was how thoroughly I enjoyed this science fiction novel.

We are launched into a world where small, planet-less stations do what they can to remain just outside of the control of the Empire, Teixcalaan. A young Ambassador, Mahit Dzmare, is being sent from Lsel Station to Teixcalaan to replace her recently deceased predecessor. She is equal parts trepidation and excitement; with all the vigor of someone young and eager to prove themselves. Mahit very quickly finds herself utterly alone and unsure who she can trust among the stoic and expressionless Teixcalaanlitzlim. The entire novel takes place in the span of days, not months or years, which means that it moves along at a lightning pace. Many of the choices Mahit is forced to make are born out of urgent necessity. She is forced to think on her feet and move with profound purpose.  

Arkady Martines’ debut novel is a fantastic blend of political intrigue and personal ambition. I found myself repeatedly impressed with the depth of detail she created surrounding both culture and political conspiracy. At times the poetic nature of the language takes a second reading, and the intense vocabulary requires careful concentration. I am happily shocked to report that I am anxiously awaiting the next novel in this series. The story is beautifully designed to pull you into the Lsel Ambassador’s psyche and leave you aching to know of her future. 

A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine is available from Dragonmount's store as a DRM-free ebook. You can also purchase it on Barnes and Nobel,  Amazon, and your local independent bookseller. 

The Unspoken Name by A.K. Larkwood

Leaping into the unknown with a debut fantasy novel is equal parts trepidation and excitement. Will familiar themes enchant or disappoint? Will the author live up to the promises made in the book's synopsis? Can the book hold your attention to the very end? Diving into The Unspoken Name, I was intent to answer these questions and more. 

From the first few pages, the novel struck me as something wholly unique and exciting. I was instantly enchanted by our humanoid protagonist Csorwe, and her willingness to walk headlong to her own demise. She was young and seemingly pious, and completely resigned to her fate. Csorwe was the Chosen Bride. While alive she prayed, gave blessings, dispensed prophecy, and walked ever closer to the day that she would walk into her god’s shrine and never be seen again. 

Call it fate or simply a choice, but when the sacrificial day came Csorwe chose to flee her faith and live, rather than die in the tomb of her cruel god. She did not come to the choice to leave on her own, but rather was prodded towards heresy by a wise old wizard. From that moment the wizard, Belthandros Sethennai, became the compass that directed her life. Sadly, Csorwe’s life had been promised to her god from a young age, and debts such as those always seem to find a way to be paid. 

Throughout the course of the novel Larkwood repeatedly puts her characters in situations where they are forced to make a choice between who they are and who they want to be. The gift of choice is presented time and time again, and yet fate always seems to intervene. At times it can become almost dizzying to keep up. There is often an abruptness to major changes in the novel that left me feeling a bit dissatisfied. What kept me turning the pages was the beauty and uniqueness of the world and its magic system.  

A.K. Larkwood created a vivid universe that is a seamless meld of traditional fantasy, and science fiction. The lives of the characters are steeped in medieval mundanity and yet they travel using flying ships and a complex lace of a Maze that transports them between worlds. These two different styles were expertly blended and completely captivating. I also couldn't help but cheer the normalcy created around queerness. The love and lust felt between characters was both beautiful and compelling. The magic system, one which is derived completely through god worship and extracts a toll on the body, is also a compelling subplot throughout the story. 

In whole, The Unspoken Name is an intriguing and promising debut novel. It is a modern take on the fantasy genre that has me curious about what the future holds. While the novel could certainly be a stand alone, I have a feeling it is not the last I will read about this world. 

The Unspoken Name by A.K. Larkwood is available from Dragonmount's store as a DRM-free ebook. You can also purchase it on Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and your local independent bookseller. 

The Bard’s Blade (The Sorcerer’s Song #1)

By Brian D. Anderson

Crystal Fritz is Dragonmount's book reviewer. Read more reviews here.

My favorite aspect of the fantasy genre is that it transports us from our fast-paced and hectic world, and into realms of nostalgic and fantastic beauty. I hesitate to call these worlds simpler times, but nonetheless there is a fascinating quaintness to lives that are lived before the advent of modern technologies. In The Sorcerer's Song #1 The Bard’s Blade a new trilogy by author Brian D. Anderson, we are thrust in the midst of an epic love between two young people living in the picturesque and quaint Vylari.

Our heroin Mariyah is a strong-willed and obviously intelligent young woman with her heart set on marrying her oddball, but immensely talented musician beau named Lem. Their homeland of Vylari is a place of peace. Friendly neighbors, warm summer nights, enchanting music and good wine are prevalent, and as long as the barrier that hides their land from the evils of Lamoria remains intact it seems as if nothing can shatter the never-ending calm. As often happens, a stranger brings ill tidings of impending disaster that set Lem and Mariyah down very different paths. They are thrust into a world similar, and yet far harsher than any they are used to. Fanatical “god” worship, magic, and murder are all common place in Lamoria. Our heroes have to quickly learn how to adapt and survive in their startling new reality.

This novel is very much a story about love, but more than that the lengths that we will go to save what is precious to us. Decisions that we make can take us places we never thought to go, and that happens repeatedly to Lem and Mariyah. To avid readers of The Wheel of Time, there are many familiar situations and themes that give this novel a comforting feeling; almost like a favorite meal or a close friend. There are no epic battles and yet just enough intrigue to keep the pages turning. I believe this novel is highly accessible and would be a great introduction to the fantasy genre for someone looking to expand their horizons. For those of us who devour everything the genre has to offer The Bard’s Blade is an effortless read that reminded me how beautiful a simple story can be. This novel felt very much like coming home.

Have you ever picked up a book and instantly felt like you had found a long-lost friend?

The Bard’s Blade by Brian D. Anderson is available from Dragonmount's store as a DRM-free ebook. You can also purchase it on Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and your local independent bookseller.

Crystal Fritz is Dragonmount's book reviewer. Read more reviews here.

Intricate, complex, and engaging were the first words that came to mind as I dug into The Ruin of Kings by Jenn Lyons. The author creates for us an extremely well thought-out, vivid, and mature world that leaves this reader wondering if anyone truly has control over their own fate; or are we all simply pawns in a much larger game?

Our journey begins with a letter from a seemingly educated man of unknown origin named Thurvishar D’Lorus. In his short message, he informs us that he is our true storyteller. He has reconstructed this story from transcripts and eyewitness accounts of events. Thurvishar foreshadows for us the fall of a capital. Who he is, and what capital city he is speaking of, is unknown to us for some time. Our second window into this rich world is through the eyes and conversation between a jailor and her. The jailor Talon is a fierce and terrifying creature, that brings to mind for me, a sadistic and charming succubus, although that is not who or what she truly is. Caught in her trap is a witty young man named Kihrin, who seems more or less resigned to his fate. 

It is Kihrins’ life and his journey toward his current confinement that we are following. We ping-pong through, chapter by chapter and year by year learning about how his life was twisted and changed by outside forces of prophecy and fate. Talon’s recount focuses on an earlier point in time, and it takes most of the novel before she and Kihrin’s tale converge to its inevitable end. 

As this story is being told from the outside, our tale’s author Thurvishar includes footnotes on many of the pages meant to expand our knowledge of the history of the world. As you learn the “language” and history of the universe Jenn Lyons created the more captivating the story becomes. 

The detailed complexity of this novel lends itself well to a quiet room and a glass of wine (or any beverage of your choice). It is clear to me the depth of the work that went into creating the many pitfalls and triumphs that drive the story forward. Lyons created an epic and fast-paced world filled with magic, demons, dragons, and heroes that leaves you wanting to know what is next for its cast of characters. I have already added the second book in the series to my reading list and am looking forward to discovering what happens next and answering the question(s) spinning in my mind. 

What other books have you read that make you question the effect fate has on your life?

Hypothetically speaking, as a captive or prisoner, what affect would the discovery of the manipulative outside forces in your life have on you? How accepting or understanding would you find yourself while facing the grim prospect of future imprisonment or even, worse?  

The Ruin of Kings by Jenn Lyons is available from Dragonmount's store as a DRM-free ebook. You can also purchase it on Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and your local independent bookseller. 

A good fantasy novel will have some familiar archetypes that avid readers of the genre know well. There are the endless battles between Good and Evil, Lightness and Dark, a Dark Lord and a scrappy Hero. Mix in a harrowing quest, a magical system, and a cast of mythical creatures, and you can create an epic novel that grips the reader to the very end. Good writers are able to reinvent these concepts in new ways again and again to keep fantasy readers hooked. Kel Kade presents us with a trope-subverting version of those archetypes in her new novel, Fate of the Fallen: Shroud of Prophecy (Book One). 

“What happens when the path of good and right, the triumph of light over darkness, the only path to salvation...fails?” This is the question Kade poses for us in the prologue of the book. I was instantly intrigued at the concept of evil winning out over good. I have come to expect heartbreak and tragedy as I travel along my fantasy journey, but however messy the journey becomes, I always expect the heroes to win the day. 

We are thrown immediately into a medievalesque world where a young handsome hero Mathais and his faithful friend Aaslo are bantering in the forest. We quickly learn the depth of their bond, and the book continually reinforces the lengths that “brothers in all things” will go to in order to honor that friendship. It isn’t long before our main characters have left the quaint life they once led, where their greatest worry was whom to take to the next town dance and are now venturing off into foreign lands. The duo are taking on a seemingly doomed quest to save humankind. In Kade’s world, the Greek-like gods take an active role in the manipulation of human lives. These ethereal beings exist in their own microcosms of the universe he created; and the lines between the realms seem less static than in other fantasy novels. As a reader you have to pay close attention to disentangle the many varied names and locations that are thrown your way as Kade gallops rather quickly through book one of this series. There are a few abrupt transitions that left me going back to reread the previous page, but I do not think that this was an accident. I believe Kade was intentionally trying to subvert the typical experience of the fantasy genre. 

She wove a tapestry of fascinating characters who were easy to love and that easily pulled me through the pages. In my opinion this book’s greatest strength is the witty banter that exists between its characters. There is a relatable and endearing comradery between Mathais and Aaslo that had me wondering if my best friend would go to such epic lengths for me? I finished the last page and was surprised to find myself so committed to seeing this journey to its end. I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of book two, to hear more of Mathais and Aaslo’s banter and to see what other surprises Kade can conjure. 

Get a Free extended preview (ebook) on the DM ebook store

Other Links

• KelKade.com
• Dragonmount eBook Store
  
• Amazon
• Barnes & Noble
• IndieBound.org / local retailers

The Way of Shadows is the first installment of the Night Angel trilogy by Brent Weeks.  Weeks will be the Author Guest of Honor at this year’s JordanCon, taking place April 26-28, 2019.

The story follows Azoth, an orphan living on the streets of Cenaria.

Azoth's character development is fascinating since he starts as a relatively young child living on the streets in the Warrens, the seedy underside of Cenaria.  We watch him go from child to young adult under the tutelage of Durzo Blint. Durzo is not the best of influences, but he is all Azoth has.  Azoth's character arc almost seems to be the reverse of Blint's which makes the interaction between the characters interesting.

As far as Weeks writing style, he does not spend an extensive amount of time on descriptions of settings or clothing, but it does not take away from the story. Character interaction gives the reader the complete experience of setting and mood.

Week's portrayal of female characters fell a little short for me. He seems to stick to many of the tropes women are regulated to in fantasy. That being said, there is one female character that shows promise at the end of the story. Hopefully, this continues into the second installment.

My Pros:

• There are plot twists. I always enjoy it when an author can catch me off guard.
• Once the action starts, it is quick paced and holds the reader's interest.
• Azoth is a well-developed character, and it is interesting to see how his character grows and changes as he learns the ways of the world.

My Cons:

• Contains possible triggers for those that have experienced sexual abuse.
• The beginning of the book that takes place in the Warrens is rather dark, more so, because the characters involved are children.

All in all, The Way of Shadows is a good read, provided you are not bothered by the darkness of the beginning chapters.

You can find out more about Brent Weeks and his other books at his website.

If you are part of the Facebook Wheel of Time Community, you may have run into Drew McCaffrey.  He has been an active part of the online community and is an excellent resource for anyone that needs information about the Wheel of Time series.

But Drew is more than just a Wheel of Time fan, he is also an up and coming author.  He recently began writing for TOR.com, and I had a chance to sit down with him to discuss this new opportunity.

Ebony: How did you get involved in writing for Tor.com?

Drew: One of my friends, Alice Arneson, has been writing the Brandon Sanderson Cosmere re-reads on Tor.com. She encouraged me to submit a proposal this fall, when Tor announced they were looking for new voices covering different books. I was thrilled when they said they were interested!

E: What is your official title with Tor.com?

D:I don't think I have one...maybe "contributing writer"?

E: What topics will you be writing about?

D: I'm starting with a big article about 10 of the best completed series in science fiction and fantasy. Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson fans will undoubtedly enjoy it (and maybe find a couple new series to check out)!

E: How often do you expect to post articles?

D: For now, it will depend on how often I propose ideas and Tor approves them. I don't have a regularly scheduled column or re-read or anything.

E: What will your first article be on Tor.com be about and when will it be posted?

D: My first will be that completed series article. It should be going up in the next week or so!

E: How did feel after submitting your first article to Tor.com?

D: I was incredibly excited and nervous. Tor.com is one of the biggest emerging platforms in SFF, with an outstanding track record in publishing revolutionary short fiction, novellas, and literary essays. I'm blown away by how many of their stories have been nominated for, and even won, major SFF awards.

E: Aside from writing for Tor.com do you any other sort of writing?

D: I do sports writing, covering the New York Rangers for bluelinestation.com. I also write lots of original fiction, ranging from short stories to novels, and I wrote a fair amount of book reviews for dcafwriting.com, although I haven't had the time to keep my site current.

E: How does writing from Tor.com differ from other writing you have done?

D: Writing for Tor.com has me much more cognizant of audience. Writing a book review or an opinion piece for dcafwriting is low-stress, because there isn't much of an active comment section and the general audience is relatively small. Tor.com is a big-time site, and articles there regularly see 100+ comments.

E: Are there any topics you hope to be able to write about for Tor.com?

D: I have at least one article about Matthew Stover's Acts of Caine series on my plate, and I hope to explore that series more. I'd love to talk about Glen Cook's Black Company, The Gap Cycle by Stephen R. Donaldson, and David Farland's Runelords series, too.

E: What do you think/hope you will gain from your experience with Tor.com?

D: I think this will give me a great chance to bring some lesser-known series to a wider audience, but more importantly, it will give me a chance to see what that wider audience loves. How many amazing series are out there that I haven't heard of or read yet? Interacting with the Tor.com audience will assuredly open my eyes to things that haven't crossed my path yet.

E:Are there any other writing endeavors in your future?

D: My Blue Line Station writing is an ongoing job, but my big focus for the future is getting a novel published. I'm writing my fourth novel right now, and I've gotten to the point where I'm confident enough in my stories and my writing that I'm querying literary agents.

Well, we will certainly keep an eye out for Drew’s upcoming novel.  Until then check out his TOR.com articles:

The 10 Best Completed SF and Fantasy Series (According to Me)

Matthew Stover’s Heroes Die is a Grimdark Cult Classic

It’s time for another author interview!  I’m very pleased to be able to have J.S. Fields with us.  J.S. is the author of the Ardulum Series, with the third book, Third Don, being released June 4, 2018.  J.S. is an author, an artist, and a scientist, with a special interest in wood spalting.

Q: Thank you for taking the time to talk with me, J.S.  Can you tell us a bit about yourself?

Thank you for having me! I’m a professor, parent, professional sculptor, and most recently, author. I live in the Pacific Northwest of the USA but am not a dog person, which is sort of a perpetual issue in this region. I love dark chocolate, dark fantasy, and anything with a strong f/f or enby/f romance line (assuming it still has plot). Also I’m queer x10000, but I think that goes without saying.

Q: Your Ardulum Series is praised as a ground-breaking space opera with special emphasis on species with more than two genders, or gender-neutral roles.  How important is it to you to see this representation within the writing community?

Being nonbinary myself, I am of course very tired of not seeing myself in fiction. But I think more importantly, in space science fiction, there is really no excuse to not have nonbinary genders. The binary doesn’t even routinely exist on earth, so why in the world would it exist for every species we might meet in space? While representation clearly matters, I think I’m actually more insulted on a science front when I read science fiction that doesn’t include nonbinary genders. How can anyone claim to be a scientist and not understand (or embrace) the natural variability of living systems?

On the representation front, I think in many ways science fiction has not really evolved in terms of gender. Sexuality has always been explored (not always well, or respectfully), but gender seems to be this big hurdle writers can’t get around (exceptions, of course, do exist). We can imagine hyperdrives and wormholes, but not the idea that this person with breasts and a vulva isn’t a woman. And the more space science fiction, especially, pushes the boundaries of sexuality, the more the lack of gender representation stands out. It’s demoralizing and, quite frankly, incredibly ignorant, to imagine worlds where, say, everyone is ‘anatomically female,’ so of course there are lesbians, but no one ever seems to stop and go, oh, hey, just because they have these parts doesn’t mean you still wouldn’t have men, or enbies. It feels like conscious erasure, like nonbinary and trans people are just too much work to put into a narrative. Because calling someone with a penis a woman is so much harder than a two-page treatise on how a civilization evolved on a tidally locked planet inside a wormhole.

Q: Your series introduces several new species.  Can you explain a bit about them, and how they are different/similar to humanity or other alien species we’ve grown accustomed to?

ARDULUM has a number of non-human species. In fact, humans, while present, are not POV characters, nor do they drive the narrative.

I did make a conscious effort to make most of my aliens humanoid. This was for a number of reasons, including but not limited to:

1)      reader familiarity: while some readers love a good goopy, phase-shifting being, if you don’t have humans as your main characters, you will lose readers who cannot connect with goopy-protag.

2)      technology: we all work within the ecosystems that support us. It makes sense that bipeds would generally congregate together due to similarities in needs. Hence, while it is made apparent in the series that plenty of variation exists across the galaxy, the bipeds mostly hang out in biped-specific establishments. This means they generally only meet other bipeds. Some exclusions occur, and in fact, it is the interaction of biped/non-biped interactions that drive a lot of the narrative

3)      genetics and reproductive fitness: there are a lot of genetic narratives in play in the ARDULUM  series, and for those to work, I need genetically related species. Genetic relations generally tend to mean you look like the person you’re related to (on a family level or higher), so I didn’t have a lot of leeway to have non-humanoid bipeds in the narrative.

4)      Sex. I like a good tentacle sex scene as much as the next person but I’m not prepared to write one.

To the aliens in ARDULUM specifically:

At the heart of the story is Neek (from a planet of the same name), a young woman outcast from her world for failure to tow the religious line. This species has two distinct phenotypes: the eight-fingered variety that mostly have reddish hair and variable skin melanin content, and the variety that have bone white skin and variable fingers. All secrete empathic mucous from their fingertips. There are three standard genders on Neek: male, female, and gatoi. Gatoi is third gender, and while genitals are never discussed, it is established that this gender is a player in reproduction.

The Ardulans are bipedal humanoids with transparent skin (of varying melanin contents), also all with reddish hair, and also with a male/female/gatoi breakdown (you see now where the genetic through-line is coming in). To describe much more would give spoilers, unfortunately, but generally this species has some unique telekinetic abilities.

Mmnnuggls are the primary non-bipeds of the series. These are ball-shaped beings that hover a few meters off the ground (the mechanics of this are not discussed). They’re generally shades of purple (sometimes so dark as to be almost black). They have four genders (primary male, secondary male, primary female, secondary female), which includes both anatomical changes and social role changes. This species was a lot of fun to write because they choose to interact with bipeds, but there is so much to understand between fundamentally different lifeforms. What are the purpose of hands, afterall, if your species has evolved to have no use for them? They probably just look downright stupid! But really, having characters like the Mmnnuggls points out the real struggle in writing aliens, and why so many books/movies chose to use a standard biped form. If you’re going to have multiple aliens, there’s just too much anatomy and culture to build to even have your species begin to interact. And the more disparate the anatomy, the more likely it is that the species require mutually-exclusive environments. And then you’re into a whole different type of science fiction.

The final species of note are the Risalians, an agender, bipedal, humanoid species with a blend of mammalian and reptilian roots. These are the prerequisite blue-skinned aliens of the series (tropes help ground readers, I’ve found, when you have a lot of new information and ideas to toss at them). While the neopronouns for the Risalians threw some readers, I thought it was really important to not just give nonbinary genders a pass with ‘they,’ especially since there are so many different flavors of nonbinary in the book. Hence, every type of nonbinary gender gets its own pronoun set. The reviews on that are about what you would expect, but as a nonbinary person, it was really important to me to highlight the uniqueness of each gender. ‘They’ just wasn’t going to cut it.

Q: How important is it to add romance within the series?  Do you feel it’s a personal preference or more an obligation to the reader?

I think that depends on what type of audience you are trying to capture. A lot of hard science fiction readers aren’t looking for romance. Romance readers, clearly, are. Yet, it’s very hard to market a book as f/f and not have some romance (although it really shouldn’t be. Lesbians are allowed to have autonomous lives without chasing tail constantly). For me personally, I like to see a romance line in a heavier plot, because I just haven’t had the opportunity to see the kinds of relationships I engage in mirrored in fiction. Hence, my books always have a romance line which is integral to the story, although as in the case of ARDULUM, the purpose behind it is so deeply wound in with the plot that you don’t see its purpose until the very end.

Q: Do you have any authors that have influenced your writing?

Not particularly. I think a lot of TV shows influenced me though, especially the slew of 9pm sci fi serials that used to play on FOX back in the 80s and 90s. M.AN.T.I.S., VR5, Time Trax, these were the shows that shaped my understanding of science fiction/fantasy and inspired me to write.

Q: Your scientific background is amazing!  How does your academic work influence your fiction writing?

Specifically for the ARDULUM series, the science part of the book is entirely informed by my background in wood science. I get to interact with some really neat tech as part of my job, and it was a great opportunity to get to showcase some of that work in fiction. In THIRD DON, I got to play with the other end of my research, fungi, and I think any mycophiles reading it will be pleasantly surprised with the nods to the science of wood decay.

Q: Do you have any other fiction projects in the works?

I am currently querying a YA fantasy with a nonbinary protagonist, where the magical system is based on spalting fungi (there’s that academic tie-in again). There will also be a fourth ARDULUM book—a book of shorts that contains origin stories for the main characters.

Q: Is there anything else you’d like readers to know about you, or your series?

One of the best ways to support authors, especially indy and small press authors, is to leave reviews, especially on Amazon! If you read any of the ARDULUM books I would love it if you would take a few minutes and leave an Amazon review. It can be something as simple as ‘Boobs!’ or a several page narrative. One start or five, every review matters.

And of course if you want to chat, whether to bemoan the very slow-burn romance of Neek and Emn, or to work through the mechanics of cellulose microkinesis, you are always welcome to engage with me on Twitter.

You can check out J.S.’s website, Twitter, or Goodread’s page for more information. First Don and Second Don are currently available, and Third Don is available for preorder from NineStar Press.

Welcome back to another “Fantasy Review.”  This edition is for J. Scott Coatsworth’s Skythane, the first in the Oberon Cycle trilogy.

Slight spoilers follow.

Synopsis:

The planet of Oberon is missing half its mass.  Some scientists speculate the other side is filled with dark matter—balancing the inhabited hemisphere and making it stable.  Most citizens of Oberon don’t even think about it.  For them, life continues like normal.  The rich live in splendor while the poor are forced to scavenge in the Slander.

Xander began his life in the Slander.  Orphaned at an early age, Xander grew up on the streets—abused, neglected, and forgotten.  Also against him is his heritage.  He is a skythane—a race similar to humans, but with wings and the capacity of flight.  The human settlers of Oberon forced the semi-native skythane out of their homes and off their land.

Miraculously rescued off the streets, Xander is given a second chance at life, and a very important mission.

When the planet’s main export—a drug called pith—suddenly dries up, Jameson is sent to investigate.  When he lands in Oberon City, he’s suddenly wisked away by Xander, and thrown headfirst into a situation that may kill them both.  Xander’s companion Quince tells Jameson that they need to save Oberon, and Titania—the other half of the planet only accessible by gateway.  And, of course, he and Xander are the key.

Pros:

This story is an excellent blend of sci-fi and fantasy.  Oberon City is full of technology, hovercars, computer chips installed in a person’s brain.  The first half of the novel takes place on Oberon, where technology has a relevant role in daily life.  The city is run by two rival powers—the OberCorp in charge of mining the pith, and the Syndicate, in charge of the Slander.  Xander and Jameson get stuck in the middle of both the powers as they struggle to get to Titania.  Then, when in Titania, the fantasy comes through.  Though some technology from Oberon filters through the gateways, Titania is a lot simpler in its culture.  It’s ruled completely by the skythane—though by two rival houses, Gaelani and Erriani.  The skythane depend on their ancient gods to oversee and protect them.  Magical creatures inhabit this world—some friends and some foes.  The rich histories of both of the worlds adds a lot of depth to this novel.

The characters are well developed, with clear goals and ambitions.  Xander and Jameson start off antagonistic to one another, and you can see the shift in their thinking as they grow closer.  I loved the romance between them.  They balance each other and fit as a couple.

The skythane people intrigue me.  There are several scenes when they fly and Coatsworth does a great job of conveying the feeling of exhilaration.  When Jameson learns how to fly, and revels in the feeling of being free, it was very touching.

Cons:
Though I enjoyed the romance between Xander and Jameson, and they do gradually thaw with their cool treatment of one another, I did feel like it was rushed.  Their feelings could have grown more organically.  Even Quince “helping” them along by slipping them small dosages of pith—which can act as an aphrodisiac—made me cringe.

Conclusion:

This story is pure entertainment.  It has action, adventure, intrigue, suspense, and romance.  It was a quick read, fast paced, and with a deeply enthralling landscape.  Every now and then, it’s nice to read a novel that’s just for fun.

Rating:

4 out of 5

To find out more about J. Scott Coastworth and his other novels, you can visit his website.