Literary rating: ★★★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆☆½
Independent Goodreads author (and one of my Goodreads friends) P. Pherson Green has been writing since the late 90s, and has previously had short stories published in various venues. However, this novel, the opener for his projected White Sword Saga series, is his long-fiction debut. He graciously gifted me with a hardcover review copy; no guarantee of a favorable review was requested, or given. My wife and I read the book together, during the intermittent and usually short times we were both traveling together in the car; so the nearly two months it took to read is misleading. It would have been a much quicker read if I’d read it by myself, devoting all of my individual reading time to it.
This is a work of traditional epic fantasy, set (as most tales in this genre are) in a medieval-like setting resembling the Europe of that day, except in an invented fantasy world. (A helpful map is provided, though it doesn’t show every single locality a reader might like to locate.) It would be fair to say that most if not all English-language epic fantasy written from the last half of the 20th century on owes something to the inescapable influence of Tolkien’s monumental LOTR saga, and this novel is no exception. We have here, ultimately, a quest narrative involving an artifact of great significance (and great seductive power, of an unwholesome sort). The characters’ world is one with a very long history, involving elder races and cataclysmic wars which have consequences for the present. Two non-human races, the Allarie and the Groll, are respectively much like Tolkien’s elves and orcs.
More importantly, we’re very definitely dealing here with a conflict between good and evil, with domination of a world at stake; and the conflict is not simply one of “Us” (the “good” characters) vs. “Them” (the “bad” characters), but rather within “Us” as well, since all humans can be tempted by evil. And like Tolkien (who once famously characterized the LOTR corpus as a “Catholic work”) Green is a Christian author, who writes from a Christian conception of the universe. Neither writer makes any explicit reference to Christianity, and indeed both are dealing with a world in which Christ has not been born; Middle Earth is supposedly our world long before Christianity existed, and Green’s Silver World (he introduces that name only in a short note after the novel proper) is an entirely different world with a different salvation history. But like Tolkien’s Morgoth (“the Great Enemy, of whom Sauron of Mordor was but a servant”) the entity variously known here as the Shadow, the Wyrm, the Foul Pretender or the Dark Beguiler is recognizable as Satan; and the apparently pagan polytheism of the Silver World isn’t quite as polytheistic as it initially seems.
For all that, Green is his own person with his own literary vision and style; The Eye of Ebon is not a direct LOTR knock-off, in the way that Terry Brooks’ The Sword of Shanarra is. A major difference, of course, is the distaff perspective. While Tolkien’s Eowyn is an action-capable female, she’s not the heroine of the saga; his major characters, and most of the characters who display any real agency, or play a direct role in defeating evil, are male. Here, the two viewpoint characters, protagonist Samiare (whom you see depicted on the book’s cover) and essentially co-protagonist Rugette are both female, and formidable fighting females who carry the brunt of the book’s down-and-dirty struggle against evil, and who make the key, crucial gut wrenching and difficult moral decisions at the climactic points. (I was already inclined to rate the book at five stars, but those were the moments that clinched it, and for me moved this tale into the ranks of great, rather than merely good, literature!)
To be sure, unlike Rugette, whose combat skills, especially archery, result from rigorous training since she was in her early teens (I’d guess her to be about 30 here) and have been honed in years spent as a high-ranking warrior and scout fighting the Groll, Samiare, an untrained girl of 15, owes her prowess to a mysterious sword. At the very beginning of the main narrative, she lies dying in the snows of her homeland from cold and blood loss after being gang-raped by a band of Groll and renegade humans, who carved an obscenity on her belly, beat her and tortured her with branding irons, after killing her father and making off with her sister. When she cried out for deliverance “to the one god she knew –the one who watched over,” that sword was gifted to her by a glowing man-like being; and it proves to be no ordinary sword. But she still has to hold it and wield it –and make decisions about how she uses it.
The above paragraph suggests another difference from the Tolkien corpus; this narrative is much grittier, and gorier. While the gang-rape itself isn’t really directly described, we can tell it occurred; and while Green doesn’t make the brutalizing and torture here any more drawn-out than it has to be to make us feel it, he does make us do that. This sets a tone for a very violent book; there’s a lot of mortal combat action with edged weapons, and the Groll are an extremely sadistic and treacherous bunch, even to each other. (Tolkien, in a letter, once characterized the orcs as “almost irremediable,” but allowed that no being created by God is wholly irremediable. We get the impression here that the Groll may be; but even here, Green depicts them as having a claim to merciful treatment when they’re disabled in combat, which I regard as a plus.) So there’s a high body count, with quite a lot of humans and humanoids dying, often in nastily unpleasant ways. There’s no “pornography of violence,” but we do see the spilled entrails, severed limbs, split skulls, etc. However, there’s no quoted bad language, and no explicit sexual content. (In fact, the only reference to sex at all, besides the implied rape above, occupies a tastefully phrased single part of one sentence, in 230 pages of text proper. This would definitely not be characterized as a “romantasy.”)
Green has a serviceable, dignified and assured, naturally flowing prose style that holds interest well. Settings, scenes and people are described vividly enough to be pictured in the reader’s mind (and some of the scenes conjured rival those depicted by Robert E. Howard or A. Merritt for atmosphere and spectacle!), but not over-described. World-building is delivered along the way of the storyline, without info-dumps (there are a couple of roughly page-long appendices, “About the Silver World” and “The Four Lands,” which should be read). There aren’t many serious typos, the worst one being that “reigns” tends to be substituted when “reins” is meant (but that’s a quibble). We come to realize before long that the Prologue describes events taking place millennia before the main story, and occasional interspersed flashbacks set in the same time-frame aren’t distinguished by typeface or a heading; but the reader quickly comes to identify and understand these, and they do convey important information.
There’s no cliff-hanger here; the challenge of the main plot is brought to its conclusion. But it’s clear that the overall epochal struggle of the Four Lands is only beginning, and I’m invested in continuing the series!
Author: P. Pherson Green.
Publisher: Gold Dragon Publishing, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.


I like to think I am not an idiot. I can assemble words into a coherent order, perform fairly complex mental arithmetic with reasonable accuracy, and recently connected a printer to my wife’s computer on the first attempt. So, when I tell you I did not understand this film… I really did not understand this film. I’ve seen movies before, where I may be unclear on some points. But I could still provide a reasonably detailed synopsis. Here? I am utterly at sea, beyond the most basic level, to the point I’m wondering how the heck I will be able to reach my standard five hundred words. How many can I spend describing my bemusement?
Going off the Wikipedia article about Rose Dugdale, I can’t help feeling this could have been more epic than it was. I mean, a former debutante who, “As an IRA member, took part in the theft of paintings worth IR£8 million, a bomb attack on a Royal Ulster Constabulary station using a hijacked helicopter, and developed a rocket launcher” which used – I kid you not – packets of biscuits to absorb the recoil. There’s so much there, it feels a shame the movie focuses almost entirely on the art theft. This was carried out in 1974, raiding a stately home in rural Ireland (fun fact: the house was used as a location in
The idea here is considerably stronger than the execution. Police detective Riley Parra (Hassler) works the scummiest part of town, which is ruled by mysterious and possibly legendary figure Marchosias (Landler). However, while working a murder case, Riley discovers the area is, in fact, Ground Zero for an ongoing war between demons and angels. More startlingly yet, she’s directly involved, because she is the “champion” on the side of the angels. This revelation has the potential to destroy the shaky truce which has been in place between the two sides. Riley also has to deal with pesky journalist, Gail Finney (Sirtis, sporting an Australian accent for some reason), and attraction to new medical examiner Dr. Gillian Hunt (Vassey).
Despite my relentlessly commitment to sit through any film with an action heroine that strays across my radar, I’ll admit to suppressing an inward wince, when the film started and the ‘Lifetime Movies’ logo popped up. This origin was news to me. However, I was literally a captive viewer, since I was sitting on a plane to Mexico, so couldn’t exactly pop up and put on something else. At least it did mean I wasn’t going to end up uncomfortably trying to hide my screen from fellow passengers. This has occasionally happened previously, after an ill-considered choice of in-flight entertainment. Inevitably when I’m occupying the middle seat. Say what you like, Lifetime TVMs are safe.
The history of action heroines can’t be told without a chapter on China and Hong Kong. When we watched Michelle Yeoh kick butt in
The obvious target for that is Ya-Ya, who is kidnapped, luring Jiu into a confrontation. Eventually, an uneasy peace between producer and distributoris brokered, setting the scene for a major drug deal going down at the docks. Tang informs her colleagues, and plans are put in place for a raid which will sweep up both sets of traffickers. This does a fair amount right, in particular the lead performances of Yan and Bai, which are thoughtful and well-considered. Both come over as smart individuals, and there is a complexity to the gangster which is a little surprising. Indeed, you could argue that, with his relationship to Ya-Ya, and their history, Wen-Jiu is given depth which is largely missing from Shi-yu. She is almost entirely defined by her career.
It’s a bit more of an ensemble piece here, with Tang’s SWAT group in Hanjiang City becoming involved after being called in to resolve a hostage situation at a petrol station. Turns out, the two women were victims in the scheme, but as the investigation proceeds, the criminals involved are covering their traces in no uncertain i.e. murderous fashion. Things become rather personal, since SWAT member
As seems common throughout the series, we get more time than I expected spent on the villains. In this case, one of them is killed in the first pick-up attempt, which causes his friend to want to kill Ni-Ni. When Li refuses to allow that, the friend swears vengeance against the cops he considers responsible. No prizes for guessing who that is. This adds an additional wrinkle to what might otherwise be a fairly straightforward (though effective enough) kidnapping plot. Between that and Yang’s murky actions, the story is pretty interesting. We’re kept uncertain whether what Yang is doing, is simply to get Ni-ni back safely. Especially after we learn that Li has a long track record of kidnaps – and that the victims there have not come back alive.
With the somewhat accurate and rather clunky sub-title of “True stories of the unsung women heroes who rescued refugees and Allied servicemen in WWII”, this is a book whose idea I liked rather more than the execution. The core is six chapters, each devoted to a woman or pair of women, who operated before and around World War II, mostly helping refugees to escape the Nazi regime as it swept across Europe. Every chapter has the same structure. Each begins with ‘The Threshold’, describing how they came to take on that role; then ‘The Move’, covering their heroic activities; and finally, ‘The Close’, detailing what happened to them afterward.
It generally makes sense for a film to escalate over its duration. The problem here is, what escalated was my annoyance. It began as irritation, but by the end I was deeply peeved, because the stupidity is strong in this one. It begins with two different strands. In one, former desperado Lee Hughes is visited in his mountain resort by ex-colleague Jimmy Montague (Fafard) and his minions. They want to know the location of two million in proceeds from a previous crime Lee and Jimmy pulled. In the other, lesbian couple Lane (Newton) and Megan (McClay) are busy being lesbionic with each other, because they’re lesbians. Did I mention they are a same-sex couple?
★★★
Martha Jane Cannary Burke, a.k.a. “Calamity Jane” (1852-1903) was a lot of things. But most of all she was the inventor of her own legend. By the end of the 19th century, dime novels based off her alleged adventures already sold very well. Unfortunately, the foul-mouthed and constantly drunk former frontier woman could never benefit financially from her reputation, with which others earned good money. She died early, though already perceived as a legend of the “old West”. To divide which of the many stories told about her are true, and which are not, is a job for the historians, not mine. For a character who definitely provided a “fill in the gaps” hero’s template, it’s no surprise Calamity Jane soon became a mythic legend of the “Wild West”, combined with other illustrious characters of that time such as “Wild Bill” Hickok, Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, Billy the Kid and many others.
The show itself takes place around 1876 and is great fun. Calamity Jane is an adult, red-haired and green-eyed woman, with a whip that regularly comes in handy for dangerous situations. She is serious-minded and on the side of the law, meaning whenever help is needed, she will be there. She has a horse called Dakota and drinks milk (hey, what do you expect – it’s made for kids!). Always on her side is old Joe Presto (Welker) who can best be described as her comic sidekick, though sometimes comes across a bit simple-minded. Also, I sometimes had problems understanding his mumbling, though you get used to it. Of course, when you tell the story of Calamity Jane, Wild Bill Hickok is never far away. In real life she claimed that they were a couple in Deadwood. though according to historians, this could easily be another made-up story, as she was famous for doing. In this show, he helps her from time to time and is voiced by Clancy Brown (the Kurgan from Highlander).