Tag: fantasy

Sri Asih: The Warrior

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★★★
“No Marvel: and that’s okay.”

Turns out that Marvel and DC are not the only ones creating “cinematic universes” based on comic book. Another example can be found, perhaps surprisingly, in Indonesia. This film is part of the Bumilangit Cinematic Universe, and is a follow-up to 2019’s Gundala. I haven’t seen that, but I’m 99% sure that the scene in the end-credits is a direct cross-over to that, featuring its hero, given the apparent prediction late on of a team up to come between him and Sri Asih. Otherwise, though, this stands on its own, and you don’t need to have seen Gundala, or be familiar with the comic-book series about Sri Asih, created by R.A. Kosasih, and first published all the way back in 1954.

This is the third incarnation of the character, which was also first seen on the screen in 1954, in a now lost Indonesian movie of the same title. In this version, we begin with the birth of Alana during a volcanic eruption, in which her father is killed. Brought up by her mother, Alana is highly talented in martial arts, but has problems controlling her temper. After she fails to throw a fight as arranged against rich playboy and serial abuser Mateo Adinegara, he sends his men to beat up Alana’s mother, and the situation then escalates. Someone kills Mateo and his father, industrialist Prayogo Adinegara (Saputra) vows revenge. The result ends up triggering Alana’s transformation into her final form, the reincarnation of fire goddess Sri Asih.

Which is convenient, because someone is trying to carry out a ritual to obtain ultimate power, a process which require the sacrifice of a thousand souls. With the help of cop Jatmiko (Rahadian), who teeters between honesty and corruption, and childhood friend Tangguh (Nichol), now a journalist, Sri Asih has to figure out what’s going on, and stop the ritual. It’s all earnestly naive in an adorable kind of way. There’s a touching faith in journalistic integrity, and also lines like, “If you are unable to learn how to defeat your anger, it’s only a matter of time before it defeats you.” Occasionally this does topple over into clunkiness, such as when someone late on literally says, “I just remembered <key plot point about the thousand soul sacrifice>” Really?

However, if you can buy into the tone and go along with it, you’ll have a good amount of fun. It certainly does not feel like 134 minutes, which is more than can be said for some Marvel or DC product, though this is somewhat less highly polished. I do wish the fight scenes had been less CGI heavy: the impact is considerably more when Sri Asih and her opponents are knocking chunks out of concrete pillars than when she’s flying unconvincingly through the air. The best thing about Indonesian martial arts is the hard-hitting aspect, and that only intermittently comes through. It does have a cheerful “can do” attitude that’s endearing, and I’d not mind checking out further installments. 

Dir: Upi Avianto
Star: Pevita Pearce, Reza Rahadian, Surya Saputra, Jefri Nichol

Fairest of Them All

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★★½
“Princesses are doin’ it for themselves.”

There’s a recent trend for horror films based on public domain characters. The most infamous is likely Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey, but traditional fairy tales have also been exploited to the same end. This is a sequel of sorts to the same studio’s Cinderella’s Curse (which I have not seen), but basically hurls every princess of legend into the mix. The excuse is Lewis Carroll’s Mad Hatter (Santer), who in this incarnation is a Joker-like psycho, who has kidnapped Alice (Desmond) and made her his slave, courtesy of his magic. He now wants a bride, and to this end abducts a selection of princesses and others e.g. Tinker Bell, as potential candidates. They will fight to the death. Last one alive becomes Mrs. Hatter.

Likely out of necessity, to differentiate the various princesses, the results play fast and loose with traditional folklore. For example, Belle from Beauty and the Beast, turns out to be a shape-shifter. Or there’s Snow White, who is driven by her cannibalistic impulses. It’s also notable that some of them are enthusiastically on-board with the Hatter’s plan. It therefore takes a while before any cohesion takes place between the kidnap victims, forming the necessary alliance to be able to fight back. This is quite an interesting concept, yet somehow still feels somewhat longer than its brief running-time of seventy-seven minutes. We are here to see regal catfights; instead, there’s rather too much sitting around and talking about things.

It also seems occasionally to veer into near-darkness, leaving it hard to tell exactly what’s happening. But I did like most of the characters, and a lot of the performances are enthusiastic enough to pass muster. Many of those involved seem to be actively “in on the joke”, being aware of the general ridiculous nature of the concept. Santer in particular sets the tone, and everyone else is at their best when they follow suit. The production values were surprisingly decent too, with an interesting, decrepit location, which seems to mirror the broken-down nature of Hatter’s sanity. It feels like there has been some effort put into the costumes, hair and make-up – again, reflecting the personalities of the princesses.

On the other hand, it’s clear none of the actresses have been chosen for their martial arts abilities, despite pronouncements from the director that, “This is a blood bath with epic fight sequences. Gore hounds are in for a treat.” It really is not, the fights are well short of epic, and I do not feel particularly treated either. I was hoping for a fairy-tale version of Raze. Instead, what I got was closer to after hours in the locker-room at Disneyland, following the consumption of one too many margaritas. Sure, it may be adequately entertaining to watch, but it’s probably not going to be the proudest moment of anyone involved. Better than most public-domain knockoffs though. I’m looking at you, The Mouse Trap…

Dir: Kunahan Thampi
Star: Lewis Santer, Alina Desmond, Kelly Rian Sanson, Natasha Tosini

KPop Demon Hunters

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★★★
“Pop go the demons.”

The appeal of K-Pop in the West baffles me. I mean, I have a fairly low tolerance for pop in general. So the appeal of a foreign version, born from a culture to which you have no connection… Yeah. Fortunately, you need no knowledge to be entertained by this Netflix animated movie. It’s also tongue in cheek enough to work for non-fans, poking self-deprecating fun at the obsessive nature of K-Pop fandom. The title alone is so direct as to indicate the attitude. It’s accurate though. Pop trio Huntr/x are also demon hunters. They are the latest generation, tasked with keeping the forces of darkness and their ruler Gwi-Ma, out of our world through a barrier called the Honmoon.

Gwi-ma’s latest plan to dismantle the Honmoon involves creating an idol group of his own, the demonic Saja Boys. Their sudden popularity represents a growing threat to Huntr/x, who need to best them in the annual Idol Awards to stop the Honmoon from collapse. Things are complicated by the part-demon nature of Huntr/x lead singer Rumi (Cho), which she has kept secret from fellow members Mira (Hong) and Zoey (Yoo). They believe all demons are inherently evil, making her status a tad awkward. On the other side, Rumi gets to know Jinu, a member of the Saja Boys, who is wracked by guilt over his demonic nature. Naturally, it all ends in a potentially apocalyptic performance by the Saja Boys. 

I was surprised it was Chris who actually asked to watch this: she’s not a K-Pop stan either. This did turn out to be better than expected. Admittedly, said expectations were low. But it’s nicely animated, and the previously mentioned willingness not to take itself seriously goes a long way. For example, when the heroines’ efforts to go down a slide are stymied by their battle catsuits, one remarks sardonically, @@@@. Or there’s the member of Saja Boys whose fringe is so long, it covers most of his face. It’s quite dry humour, something I like. Even the songs are… tolerable, in a Eurovision Song Contest kind of way (an event for which I have a soft spot).

Of course, the way it unfolds is never less than predictable, with the power of friendship and heroic sacrifice, being the order of the day. It’s also relentlessly PG-rated, meaning that no matter how many demons are slain – and there are a lot – do not expect to see so much as a single drop of blood. These elements were in line with what I expected, and I would certainly not mind a live-action version aimed at a more grown-up audience. However, was I not adequately entertained? Yes – yes, I was. It’s a frothy concoction, that gives a glimpse into a world beyond the one I know. In fact, two worlds: both the demonic realm and the K-Pop one. Your choice as to which is weirder. 

Dir: Maggie Kang and Chris Appelhans
Star (voice): Arden Cho, Ahn Hyo-seop, May Hong, Ji-young Yoo

The Old Guard 2

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★★
“Old and tired.”

I was considerably less impressed with The Old Guard than some folk. I suspect it benefited from coming out during the COVID lockdown, when people were desperate for entertainment, and would obsess over any crap (see: Tiger King). Truth be told, it was really rather mid. Hard to believe it has been five years since then. With hindsight, we should probably have rewatched the original. Might have saved us having to look up the plot on Wikipedia, because the sequel assumes we remember everything about the first film, as if it were yesterday. We do not. It’s still basically about these immortals (or thereabout), who have been helping humanity through the ages. This seems initially to mean working with the CIA, which is certainly a choice.

As well as Andy (Theron), who has lost her immortality because reasons, there’s Nile (Layne). On the other side, we have Quỳnh (Ngô), who spent centuries at the bottom of the ocean, perpetually drowning, and is consequently slightly peeved. No, really: you’d expect full on psychosis, but she’s not much more than somewhat annoyed, and gets over it impressively quickly. There’s also Discord (Thurman), the first immortal, who has a scheme of her own to… Well, it’s complex, but it turns out that not only can immortality be lost, it can also be transferred between people. Death, where is thy sting? It all smacks of lazy, even desperate writing, inevitably leading to a scene borrowed from Star Trek II.

The film feels full of these missteps, lumbering clumsily from one chunk of exposition to the next. This builds to an assault on a Chinese nuclear facility, but there’s no sense of resolution. Because the film is more interested in acting as a bridge to The Old Guard 3, consequently ending in an ending which isn’t an ending. A third part is not something in which I have interest: any review of it here is likely to be out of genre obligation, rather than genuine interest. The only potential plus is that perhaps we might see more of Discord there, because in this installment, Thurman’s presence is wasted to a degree that is almost impressive. Though if it’s another five years before part 3, she’ll then be aged more or less sixty. 

On the other hand, Theron looks eerily like she did in Aeon Flux, almost twenty years ago. And the action in general isn’t bad in quality, with both her and Ngô having their moments. It is technically sound, occasionally slick, and there are some cool car moments at the beginning. But if you compare it to something like Ballerina, both the quantity and impact of the fight sequences are clearly short of the mark. If that hadn’t been the case, I’d have been willing to forgive the clunky exposition and generally uninteresting nature of the plot. But I wouldn’t say “somewhat alright” fights come close to justifying anyone’s monthly Netflix subscription.

Dir: Victoria Mahoney
Star: Charlize Theron, KiKi Layne, Veronica Ngô, Uma Thurman

Nite Fire: Flash Point by C.L. Schneider

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Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆

Dallas Nite is a dragon. Well, some of the time. For dragons are actually shape-shifters, capable of changing form, and that’s how she is able to pass for a human here. On her home planet, she had been an assassin for Queen Naalish, until she balked at carrying out one hit. Condemned to death, she fled through one of the interplanetary portals, ending up on Earth. Effectively immortal, Dallas has been in exile here for ninety-seven years since, making sure no other unauthorized creatures come through the portals – part of an uneasy truce between her and the aristocracy. Part of her job also involves ensuring any trace of dragon activity is covered up, these being explained instead as “spontaneous human combustion.” But after a whole family is slaughtered in fiery fashion in their home, it becomes increasingly difficult for her to keep a lid on things, and her past comes back with a vengeance too.

As urban fantasy goes, this is solid, rather than spectacular. There’s some nice world-building, with the idea of the portals well-explained, and offering plenty of scope for a variety of adventures (the epilogue does a particularly good job of pointing the way forward). I also appreciated how Dallas is employed as an investigator of “suspicious fires” by the local police department in Sentinel City which, given the obvious dragonish nature of her talents, is a good fit. Additionally, she has the ability to sense and re-experience people’s traumas. While the talent comes with baggage of its own, this is particularly useful for the case in question. It does feel like you’re joining the story in progress, almost a century having passed since Dallas’s arrival on Earth. I would be very interested in hearing, for example, what she got up to during World War II. A were-dragon would seem to offer certain advantages as a secret agent.

While the more relevant gaps of her past are filled in eventually, it is a bit of a cheat, with knowledge being withheld from the audience, that Dallas and the other characters clearly possess. We probably needed additional background on the dragon hierarchy too. There were some characters whose roles and significance remained a little too obscure. For example, Reech is one who only shows up at the half-way point, and I am still not sure exactly how he fits into things. What ends up as the central conflict, between Dallas and former apprentice Brynne, delivers some impressive battles (I said effectively immortal above, for a reason…), and focusing more directly on that could have paid dividends. At almost four hundred pages in length, there were times where getting through this did feel a bit of slog. However, a turn of the page would then bring me into something cool, and it provided enough of those moments to cross over the finish line without too much trouble. 

Author: C.L. Schneider
Publisher: CreateSpace Indepenedent Publishing, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 5 in the Nite Fire series.

The Eye of Ebon, by P. Pherson Green

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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.

Riley Parra: Better Angels

  By

★★
“Wings of desire.”

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).

This is based on a series of books by Geonn Cannon, and is a mixed bag. I like the idea that the police department is entirely staffed by women, and nobody particularly cares. That they all appear to be lesbians? Hmm. Geonn is a male author, I should mention, which makes this… interesting. It’s all very much PG-rated, but really, I feel all the relationship stuff seriously gets in the way of the plot. Not least, because this ends with none of the major threads anywhere close to tied-up. Instead, it finishes with Riley just having solved a murder which doesn’t even take place until 65 minutes into the movie. Originally a webseries, it seems more a pilot than an actual film. Five years later, there’s no continuation, so do not expect resolution.

There are also silly little gaffes, such as Dr. Hunt picking up evidence at a murder scene with her bare hands. Or Riley getting a call and being texted the location of the same murder, then saying, “I’ll be there in 15 minutes” – without looking at her phone. Be where exactly? It’s all minor, but indicative of a rather sloppy approach to film-making. Shame, since the characters here are quite interesting, and the performances are decent. Everyone here seems like they could be a real person, even Marchosias and his outrageously French accent (that actor actually is French, so I’ll let it pass).

It feels fairly pro-religion, both in its central concept and sympathetic presentation of the priest, to whom Riley turns for advice. I’d have liked to have seen more action: I think the only person Riley shoots is her partner – not much of a spoiler, since it happens early on. Oddly, that barely leads to any disciplinary action or investigation, more evidence of the slapdash approach to detail. I do suspect some characters are not what they seem. I think either Riley’s boss, or Gail Finney, are actually agents for Marchosias. The latter would be interesting, being the kind of crusading, anti-police journalist you might expect to be the heroine in another story. Guess we’ll never know. Well, unless I read the novels and… Yeah, I probably wasn’t sufficiently into this to justify the effort there.

Dir: Christin Baker
Star: Marem Hassler, Liz Vassey, Karl E. Landler, Marina Sirtis

The Accidental Keyhand, by Jen Swann Downey

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Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆

In terms of my reading plans for 2025, mentally laid out at the end of last month, this read was a totally unexpected curveball. The book (and author) wasn’t one I’d ever heard of, and not one I’d have bothered to pick up even on a free rack; but it was a surprise Christmas gift from a library colleague, delivered early this month when we returned from Christmas break, and one that touched me deeply. As a gift from one librarian to another, it actually has a lot to commend it, being very library-centered and with a message very supportive of books and the importance of the written word.

Written for younger readers (ages 10-14, according to the Goodreads description), this is the opening book of what’s so far a duology. Author Downey describes the premise and genesis of the series in an answer to a question by another Goodreader, which is worth quoting from at length:

“I think the seed for the series was planted when I saw the phrase “Petrarch’s Library” scrawled on a notebook I found in our never-very-organized, and always-very-clutterful house. Everyone in the family denied being the scrawler, but the phrase ignited my imagination, especially after I looked it up and found it associated with a collection of books that the 14th century humanist and poet, Petrarch, had carried around with him when he traveled on the back of a donkey. That made me laugh, because the phrase had suggested some sort of grand magnificent library. But then I thought, well, even a small collection of books IS a sort of imaginary grand magnificent place because each of the books is a doorway into a different world of ideas, and knowledge, and story.

Suddenly I was imagining “Petrarch’s Library” as a solid, if sprawling building, made out of library chambers from different times and places knitted together by magic into one incredible super-library.

Since I was a kid, I always had the feeling that librarians were masquerading at doing something mundane while actually doing something incredible, mysterious and magical. It seemed reasonable that the work of librarians who staffed the imaginary Petrarch’s Library would defend and protect the flow of information in shall we say, some additional warrior-ish direct action ways!”

(That quote also answers the question of whether this is fantasy or science fiction; that would depend on whether the author intended us to view the speculative elements as enabled by magic –which, as noted above, she did!– or by natural phenomena/technology unknown to present science.) 12-year-old protagonist Dorothea “Dorrie” Barnes is a library-loving kid growing up in Passaic, New Jersey (I suspect this might be Downey’s hometown, but can’t confirm that), in a chaotic household with her inventor father, college instructor mom, 14-year-old brother Marcus, and three-year-old sister Miranda. (The family shares the house with her great-aunt Alice, who’s an anthropologist.) Dorrie’s a pretty ordinary tween, albeit one with a sense of justice and a liking for the idea of sword-fighting against villains; she’s got a blunt practice sword and takes a library-sponsored fencing and stage combat class. But when the book opens on the day of the library’s annual Pen and Sword Festival (a sort of low-budget Renaissance Faire), a succession of freak events will very soon suck Dorrie and Marcus into a most un-ordinary experience….

With 358 pages of actual text, this is a rather thick book; but it has fairly large script, and is a quick-flowing page turner. Given that it’s intentionally written for kids, it’s safe to say (and no disgrace to the author!) that it would appeal more to that group than to adults; and while it’s among those children’s books that can please adults, it’s much more towards the younger-age end of that spectrum than some. Probably its biggest problem is conceptual murkiness, which makes suspension of disbelief challenging (more so for adults than for most 10-14 year-olds). The circumstances behind the rise of the Foundation and later of its Lybrariad adversaries aren’t really explained, and neither is the power behind the magic of Petrarch’s library and why its details work the way they do (partly because the Lybrarians themselves don’t know or understand this!). Because the author conceives of time as fluid, with past events subject to change which can re-write subsequent ones, time paradoxes are a factor, and that’s definitely not my favorite time-travel trope. Also, Downey’s perspective is secular humanist, though the book doesn’t stress this. The issue of language differences in certain settings isn’t always handled convincingly, IMO.

However, there are definite pluses here as well. On the whole, the plot is a serious one, with real suspense and tension in many places and a definite potential risk of death at times, and there are some serious life lessons imparted and significant moral choices made; but the author leavens this with a good deal of both situational and verbal humor, which works well here. She’s obviously well-read and knowledgeable about history, geography, natural history, etc., and she constructs her plot well for the most part (though there’s a significant logical hole in the part played by one magical artifact). Dorrie’s well-developed and likeable; most of the other characters who get any significant page-time are well-developed also, though not always likeable nor meant to be. (Marcus is, though you might sometimes want to swat him! :-) ) A nice touch is the incorporation of several real historical figures, such as Cyrano de Bergerac and Greek philosopher Hypatia, as members of the Lybrariad, though their portrayal isn’t always necessarily realistic. (I appreciated the short appendices which identify most of these people, and give additional information about other real persons, places, books, and other items mentioned in the tale.)

Since Dorrie is only 12 years old, she’s not a very formidable fighter in serious combat. But within the limits of her physical growth and of what training she’s had, she actually does display some action heroine chops, albeit not until quite a ways into the book.

All in all, this is not deep fiction, and I don’t plan to seek out the sequel. But it’s an enjoyable romp on its own terms, and I don’t regret reading it. (Note for animal-loving readers: the pet mongoose who plays an important role in the storyline is not harmed in any way!)

Author: Jen Swann Downey
Publisher: Sourcebooks, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Wyvern Awakening, by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

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Literary rating: ★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆

There are reviews which are easy to write, because – good or bad – the subject generates a lot to talk about. This is not one of those. It’s a bland slice of semi-urban fantasy, which just… sits there, the literary equivalent of a bowl of vanilla pudding. It’s not good, nor is it bad enough to be memorable. It merely exists, remarkable mostly in how unremarkable it is. Put it this way, I finished it less than 24 hours ago, and I can’t even remember the heroine’s name, so little impression was made. Instead of writing, I find myself almost preferring the Star Trek musical episode Chris is watching next to me. And I don’t really like Star Trek. Or musical episodes. 

It starts off feeling like a Harry Potter knockoff. Heroine (checks notes) Astrid was orphaned after her parents were killed by a powerful mage, leaving her with a facial scar, when she defended herself with her own innate arcane talent. She’s then sent to live with some nasty relatives, who treat her badly, almost to the point of abuse. Yeah, it’s all very J.K. Rowling. She has a dream where she suddenly realizes the Mage was Duke Jorgen, the city’s ruler. She vows to take revenge, and fortunately, the Duke is having a contest to find a new assistant. Astri, who is the last of the wyvern shape-shifters, joins the competition and goes through the resulting trials.

Yet, the closer she gets to Jorgen, the more confused she becomes, because he hardly seems like the parent-murdering type. He is, of course, far too attractive to be evil. Read that sentence with as much sarcasm as you wish. So, if you want every encounter to be overflowing with unresolved romantic tension, here you go. The problem is, there’s no consistency in Astri’s approach. One minute, she is about to get all kissy-face with him, the next she’s leaving him to be tortured by rogue shifters. She’s supposed to be a strong, independent heroine, yet is frequently neither. And what are the rules of this contest anyway? They seem to be made up as the trials progress. 

There are some decent elements. I was amused by the her scabrous pair of pocket pixies – named Jetli and Lenin, because reasons, I guess. There’s also a sense of bigger forces at play beyond Astri’s personal problems. The last trial brings these particularly into focus. But the final revelation has been telegraphed from almost the very beginning, and is as thoroughly unimpressive as I feared. I suspect this might be aimed more at a YA audience. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with that, except there are YA books that can still work for an adult audience. Then we have this, which does not. To be honest, I suspect even my 13-year-old self might have found it severely deficient, in a number of areas. 

Author: Joanna Mazurkiewicz
Publisher: Self-publshed, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 4 in the Mage Chronicles.

Demon Hunter, by Aubrey Law

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Literary rating: ★★½
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆½

I wouldn’t call this great literature, by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, in many ways, it’s not very good. But I must admit: I was entertained, and was far from unhappy to realize that I’d picked up an omnibus of books 1-5 further into my reading list. I’m not sure I’m going to bother with reviewing those following installments; certainly not independently, it would be a bulk package, if at all. But I’m going to read them, and probably enjoy them. What’s interesting is, the author has created a protagonist who is, in many ways, a terrible person. But by then pitting them against arguably worse people, the reader is left on her side.

It begins a long time in the past (round about the birth of Christ, I think), when royal princess Annis has to flee after her mother, Amelia, kills her father. Annis had been trained in the dark arts, and vowed to continue building on these skills, until she is eventually powerful enough to take revenge on Amelia. Over a millennium later, her lifespan extended unnaturally and now a skilled Black Witch, Annis is captured by witch-hunters, tortured and executed, her soul descending into hell. After biding her time in torment for centuries, she seizes the chance to escape, finding herself in modern-day Los Angeles and occupying the flesh of a sex slave called Ashley.

She’s not happy about it, and certainly has the skills to punish those unfortunate enough to be on her lengthy list. Methods of dispatch Annis can use include: making your heart explode, forcing you to kill yourself, and – a personal favourite – Exoskeleton, a spell that violently relocates all the victim’s bones to the outside of their body. Given everything she can do, seems odd that the main quest in this book is for a weapon, the Judas Dagger, forged from the thirty pieces of silver paid to Judas Iscariot for his betrayal of Christ. Compared to Exoskeleton, sticking ’em with the pointy end seems very low-energy. Admittedly, there are a lot of entities on her trail too, though so far none pose much of a threat.

You could call this trash, to which I would nod, and reply, “Yes. Your point being…?” So far, there have been precious few indications of pretension or depth, with Annis simply reacting – usually violently – to the circumstances in which she finds herself. There’s hardly a sympathetic character here. Sonja, another sex slave who is rescued by Annis, comes closest but she quickly ends up turned into a ghoul who needs blood to survive, and isn’t too fussy about its source. I hope we get someone who represents a bit more of a challenge for Annis, because when you can stop an opponent’s pulse dead, most battles don’t last long. Albeit a bit guiltily, I confess to being not disinterested in finding out.

Author: Aubrey Law
Publisher: Independently published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 7 in the Revenge of the Witch series.