Tag: novel

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.

Women Rescuers of WWII, by Elise Baker

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Literary rating: ★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆

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.

These stories are all worth telling, though perhaps not to the same degree. A couple appear more like glorified bureaucrats, and while their roles in facilitating emigration of refugees were important, you don’t get much sense they were in genuine danger. Others, however, such as Irena Sendler, was clearly risking her own life in smuggling Jewish children out of the Warsaw ghetto, being captured and brutally interrogated by the Gestapo. The same goes for Andrée de Jongh, who ran the Comet Line which allowed Allied soldiers trapped behind enemy lines in occupied Europe, to make their way back to friendly territory. She ended up in Ravensbruck concentration camp: that’s “real” heroism, putting yourself at personal risk, and definitely deserves to be better known.

However, the desire to cram in too much here works against the book. Each chapter typically covers only 20-25 pages, and as a result, you get not much more depth about each woman, than you would find in a well-written Wikipedia article. These are more like an appetizer, and you’ll probably be left hungry to know more about the likes of de Jongh. Baker has an odd tendency to shift from factual descriptions to what reads like dramatic restagings of scenes, an awkward shift that she does not manage to pull off. Rather than letting the stories speak for themselves, she tends to belabour her point about sexism being responsible for suppressing these stories.

It’s somewhat questionable, since many male heroes of WW2 are arguably more unsung: de Jongh, for example, was awarded decorations by multiple countries, including the George Medal, Britain’s highest civilian honour. That’s not “unsung.” I’d rather Baker had used the pages she spends on making such points, to tell the reader more about the women’s stories.  I will admit, I did learn things here, and if you’re looking for a primer – a Cliff Notes on wartime heroism – this and the other books in the series are probably worth a look. But it feels like Baker is only skimming the surface, and the subjects would have been better served by a more in-depth recounting, rather than trying to cover so many different candidates. Sometimes, less is definitely more, and this would be a good example. 

Author: Elise Baker
Publisher: Intrepidas Publishing, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book Part of the Brave Women Who Changed the Course of WWII series.

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.

Hacked Into The Game, by Saul Tanpepper

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

The literary rating is mostly down to the sluggish way in which this gets going. Though having subsequently discovered this is the first in a fourteen volume series, it’s perhaps understandable if the author decided to slow-play things in the early stages. Still, as a standalone read, it definitely takes a while to get to the good stuff. By which I mean, human vs. zombie action. This takes place well after the zombie apocalypse, with the epidemic having been contained, and indeed, commodified, Zombies are kept in a formerly infected area of Long Island, now cordoned off to the public, where a company called Arc Entertainment allows the very rich to control them through implants, and fight to the (un)death.

There are other elements too, though these don’t have a significant role in this volume. For instance, everyone is mandated to have a “kill switch” fitted in their head, for use by the government if there were to be another outbreak. Or, after death, you can be resurrected as a zombie and conscripted into the military, or other public service. I presume these will come into play in later volumes. Here, it’s the story of Jessie Daniels and her friends, moderately disaffected young people who decide to break into the restricted zone on Long Island, for a variety of reasons, from boredom to a desire to hack the game from the inside. Needless to say, the expedition does not go smoothly.

As noted, it takes a while to get there. In fact, they don’t even reach Long Island before the 62% mark (all hail Kindle readers!), with much of the opening two-thirds taken up with interpersonal relationship, prep work for the expedition, or world building. It’s not dull, but for a franchise called Zpocalypto, I was expecting rather more… well, pocalypto, I guess. Or, indeed, more Z, with the first one we encounter in real-time, again, not showing up until they’re swimming through the tunnel to Long Island. To be frank, I was seriously wondering if this would qualify for inclusion here to the eighty percent (hail Kindle!) point, hence the low K-BQ.

However, it then goes from 0-60 in about two pages, and basically doesn’t let up thereafter. Jessie and her expedition “buddy” Jake find themselves cornered in a gas station, from which they first have to extricate themselves, reunite with the rest of their party, and head back to the mainland. None of which is easy. Fortunately, she had received some weapons training from her grandfather when Jessie was young, and that certainly comes in handy against the hordes of undead who have suddenly popped up. That in itself poses questions, which I imagine are answered… at some point over the thirteen subsequent volumes. Yeah. While I get the need for an author to pace themselves, Tanpepper (a fabulous pseudonym, incidentally) needs to do a better job of grabbing the audience’s attention out of the gates.

Author: Saul Tanpepper
Publisher: Independently published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 14 in the Zpocalypto series.

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.

Support and Defend, by Vannetta Chapman

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

It’s funny. You wait ages for an action heroine novel set in Arizona, then two show up at once. Right on the heels of The Killing Game, we have this, which takes place almost entirely in this state’s most iconic location, the Grand Canyon. Unfortunately, this story falls well short of iconic. In fact, it struggles to reach mediocre, though in its defense, I didn’t realize while reading it, this is the second book in the series. I usually have a rule against starting series in the middle, because they tend to build on what has gone before. So perhaps the flaws here might be rectified if I’d read book one, Her Solemn Oath?

That’s being charitable, and I’m not exactly energized towards finding out. It doesn’t feel like a lack of background is the problem, more a heroine who is too flawed to work. She is Allison Quinn, a special agent for the FBI, who seems to have so much baggage, it feels she should be followed around by her own, personal bellhop. Her father was murdered when she was nine, and twenty-six years later, she’s still obsessed with finding the killer. Allison’s dedication to solving her current case, is largely a result of it potentially offering information that might help with that lifelong crusade. Somehow this seems to have entirely escaped everyone at the FBI.

As has Quinn’s acrophobia, which would make her a singularly unsuitable candidate for a mission involving the mile-deep hole which is the Grand Canyon. Oh, well. She’s going down there anyway, seeking a terrorist nicknamed “Blitz”. He’s involved with a group called Anarchists for Tomorrow, who have a plan to sabotage the nation’s electrical grid, with the aim of sending America back to a pre-surveillance era. There are some kill codes which could stop the attack in Blitz’s possession, and he’s going to hand them over to a buyer. For reasons that are vague, he’s doing so on a river rafting trip at the bottom of the Canyon, and so Allison must descend, with the help of Park Ranger Tate Garcia, and stop the hand-off from happening. 

None of the terrorists’ plot makes much sense, and I’ve been working in IT for approaching forty years. Nor is its unravelling here told in a particularly exciting fashion: the descent into the Grand Canyon seems to take place in real time, and doesn’t serve much point. Chapman does seem to have done her homework, and it feels like there is a decent sense of location (I’ve only peered into the Canyon, never gone into it). But this rapidly becomes more of a slog, with problems of pacing, a climax which left me genuinely flicking ahead to see if that was really it (sadly, it was), and a lengthy coda, serving no significant purpose. As an Arizona resident, I’m somewhere between disappointed and embarrassed.

Author: Vannetta Chapman
Publisher: Independently published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 2 of 3 in the Allison Quinn thriller series.

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.

The Killing Game, by Kate Bold

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

Bold is an incredibly prolific author, whose site lists eight separate series of novels, with a total of sixty-four books between them. The series are mostly named in the format, “<PROTAGONIST NAME> FBI thriller”, which does suggest a certain production-line quality to them. I wonder if, perhaps, they are each set in a different part of the country, in order to get the local market. By chance, this one is set around Arizona, where I live – I think it’s the first such action heroine novel I’ve read, and this did add a certain level of interest. “A Tempe reference! I’ve been there!” Hey, I’m easily pleased, what can I say?

The heroine here is Alexa Chase, a former member of the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit, who quit her job after spending too long staring into the abyss, in favour of a position with the US Marshals in Arizona (I’ve been there!). However, she’s dragged back in to the worst case of her time there, when notorious serial killer Drake Logan escapes from custody during a prison transport. With the aid of his cult-like acolytes, he begins a spree of death and destruction across the state, but with a sinister agenda. He wants to tap into the bleakest parts of Alexa’s psyche and make her embrace his twisted philosophy, with the aim of bringing her across onto the dark side.

There’s an obvious Silence of the Lambs influence here, in the story of a female detective hunting a charismatic serial killer, with whom her relationship goes a bit too close. The most obvious difference is, Logan is not a lone wolf, instead having disciples willing to do his bidding – which is, basically, to get in the way of Alexa’s investigation. It’s an interesting concept, though largely relegated to a side-issue here. Bold instead rolls out some of the usual tropes, like Alexa being given a new partner, FBI special agent Stuart Barrett. Give yourself two points if you immediately guess she initially hates him, but grows to respect his talents over the course of the book. I’d not be surprised if there’s sexual tension in future volumes.

Otherwise, it’s mostly straightforward stuff, and falls into the category of consistently competent, but equally consistently unremarkable. There are a couple of elements which feel like they’re set up to be more important than they are – at least here – such as Alexa’s relationship with the daughter of her neighbours. I was expecting Drake to kidnap her or something: nope. Maybe down the road this matters. This certainly wasn’t a chore to read, but despite being the first book to have scenes set in Sedona (I’ve been there!) and Bumble Bee (I’ve… driven past the turn-off to it), there just was not enough impact to make me enthusiastic about the series. If I was told a well-trained AI wrote this, I wouldn’t be surprised.

Author: Kate Bold
Publisher: Self-published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 6 in the Alexa Chase suspense thriller series.

Outcast, by Vanessa Nelson

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

This is a solid slice of urban fantasy, taking place in a city surrounded on all sides by The Wild. This is more or less what it sounds like, a wilderness inhabited by a variety of monstrous creatures, most of which pose a significant threat to human life. They’re kept out of the city by magical barriers, but these are imperfect. When they fail, and the creatures enter the city, it’s up to the Marshals to hunt them down and contain the threat. One such is Max Ortis, though she only joined them after being kicked out of the Order, eight years previously.

The Order are the magic users and their bodyguards, and at that point, Max was the sole survivor of a mission to seal the Grey Gates. These keep the demon Arkus in the underworld, but Max’s role led to her becoming persona non grata with the Order, and her subsequent dismissal. Her role in the matter has remained known to very few since then. Now, a series of murders are taking place around the city, which have all the hallmarks of being ritual sacrifices, intended to re-open the Grey Gates. Though not technically within her jurisdiction, Max is brought in to assist with the investigation, due to her unique position between the secular and spiritual groups. Turns out the case strikes a lot closer to home than is comfortable for her.

There is quite a lot going on here, not least because Max has to keep up with her regular work, in addition to assisting in the murder investigations. It becomes something of a running joke that she is always being pulled back in, just when she’s looking forward to some down time. There’s a failure of the barrier to handle, with the subsequent intrusions to be tidied up. In addition, she also uncovers some severely questionable entertainment at a local drinking establishment, which poses a threat to the city, in addition to its dubious nature. Oh, yeah: and a demon who whispered out of the shadows to Max as a young child, shows up in her life again. Gratifyingly, this leaves absolutely zero room for romance  (at least in this volume).

Instead, there is quite a lot of Max getting all manner of snot kicked out of her. Even though there are various healing and cleaning spells available to her, she seems to spend a lot of time getting patched up, in order to go back on duty. There’s no doubt the creatures she faces are a real threat, though Nelson does seem to skip describing them in much detail. I’m not certain what a “Keliotrope” looks like, beyond being a) big, and b) unpleasant. Another issue was Max’s apparent ability to think her way out of paralysis at the end. These didn’t impact my overall enjoyment too much; it’s a good start, self-contained yet laying the groundwork for future installments to go in some interesting directions. 

Author: Vanessa Nelson
Publisher: Self-published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 5 in the Grey Gates series.

When Women Were Warriors: The Warrior’s Path, by Catherine M. Wilson

  By

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

To be frank, I was expecting rather more action given the title here. Almost all of it, however, takes place “off-screen”, as it were, being described second-hand, rather than experienced. It makes sense in the context of the book, and it’s not badly written. But when you use the word “warrior” or derivations thereof, not once but twice in your title, it would seem fair to expect a higher quotient of… warrioring. I tagged this as fantasy, mostly because it clearly takes place elsewhere and/or elsewhen. It is fairly grounded e.g. no dragons or vampires, but certainly contains elements I would call mystical.

The book tells the story of Tamras, who is sent to join the house of Lady Merin, hoping to progress through the ranks of apprentices and become a warrior woman herself, like her mother before her. Tamras feels too small and weak to succeed, but bonds with another outsider there, Maara, a mysterious woman with no past, who came from the north and whose loyalties are consequently suspected by the others. Maara initially rejects Tamras, but after the warrior is hurt while fending off cattle raiders, it’s Tamras who is largely responsible for nursing her back to health, and the pair begin to forge a relationship. After providing valuable information, Maara wins Merin’s trust, although others in the house still perceive her as a threat.

There is a great deal of sitting around here, though I suspect that might be partly the point. To quote Maara, “Most of a warrior’s days are uneventful” this coming after a month when she and Tamras have been part of a group which spent a month guarding against further livestock theft, without very much happening at all. The nearest to proper action are the reports of the battle where the warriors successfully repel an attack, thanks to Maara’s intel. I liked the setting, this being a world where gender – at least, in this part of the world – is not seen as an issue, with men and women fighting side by side. It’s also definitely lesbian friendly – more so than action heroine friendly, I would suggest.

For there was a point, probably about two-thirds of the way through, that I realized the author really wasn’t interested in providing an adrenaline-packed thrill-ride. This is much more about the relationships between the women – we poor men rarely merit a mention – and in Tamras’s growth as a person. Taken as that character study, it’s by no means bad: Wilson has a good turn of phrase, with some of the more spiritual experiences having particular weight. But at other points, it does feel more like sword ‘n’ soap-opera, and the overall sense of much more interesting stuff happening elsewhere became overpowering before the end. The rating above reflects that; while on purely literary terms, it’s likely better, I was left wanting less talk and more fighting.

Author: Catherine M. Wilson
Publisher: Shield Maiden Press, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 3 in the When Women Were Warriors series.