Vampire

Blue Moon begins an exploration into Anita's magical side. Between raising the dead, which she has pretty much had under control, and the new powers brought by the vampire marks of Jean-Claude and her status as lupa to the werewolves, Nimir-Ra to the wereleopards, Anita has a lot of unresolved issues on her plate. Her trip to Tennessee to save Richard's reputation from being permanently furred will force her to confront her feelings for him as well.

The end result is that Blue Moon is a book of beginnings. The series is changing directions, as evidenced in later books, and the change begins here but is not consummated (so to speak) until later on. Anita is placed in the middle of a monster-politics crisis, and forced to rely on her own strengths and powers, rather than acting as a powerful second fiddle to Jean-Claude or Richard.

Unfortunately, the writing maintains a sense of distance from the characters, making it difficult for the reader to become emotionally involved in their trials. Important choices are being made, but the choices seem pushed by the authorial hand rather than freely chosen.

If it were not for the plot development that occurs, this book could be safely skipped. As it is, fans of the series should definitely read through it at least once. Casual readers need not do so.

Thief of Lives is an unusual combination of mythology. The traditional pseudo-medieval fantasy setting, with elves and (presumably) dwarves, contrasts sharply with the primary focus of the characters: killing vampires. Or rather, exploiting the ignorance of the people who believe in vampires, because two snake-oil salesmen can make a good living getting rid of things that don't really exist.

This book follows up on the first, which revealed to the protagonists that their mythical enemy actually existed, with an exploration of the stereotypically dark and mysterious past. What's a formulaic fantasy wanderer without an air of mystery? Obviously, not stereotypical enough.

Like its predecessor, Thief of Lives is very much a B-grade fantasy novel. It will successfully pass the time, but little more.

Cerulean Sins continues the annoying tradition of more sex and angst, less violence.

Smoke and Shadows is the latest "Vicki Nelson" novel. I suspect Tanya is returning to that universe for financial reasons, because the book itself feels like a "paint-by-numbers" effort that could have been spawned from a random plot generator. Vicki herself makes no appearance, and Henry plays a role that could be described as "muscle" -- if you were feeling like flattery, which any fan of this series won't be.

If that's not enough of a dire warning to drive you away from the book, read on. Because it's not really that bad. It's just stuck on the lower end of the Vicki Nelson series, and that particular series started at mediocre and went downhill about the time the corpse of Vicki's mother was turned into an undead robot by a deranged mortician. This book isn't THAT bad. In fact, after that disaster, it's almost a return to form. But it's definitely not as interesting as the first three.

The title character is almost the stereotypical enigma. The real meat of the anime comes from watching the effects of his actions upon the fully-realized supporting characters and their own interplay. The story is not about D; it's about those around him.

There are aspects of this film that call up some truly awful b-movie dialog. This will only ruin the experience if you aren't used to the sometimes weird translation articles that show up in anime; only the really good translations manage to avoid that problem, and this is not one of those.

Astute viewers will realize that the anime is deliberately playing to some of the stereotypes, not so much mocking them for comedic effect as engaging in deliberate exaggeration for dramatic effect. The dialog and characters are distorted from reality in the same way that anime distorts the images of everyday life into two-dimensional pastels.

The best way to enjoy this anime, however, is to understand one thing: it's all about style. Style and "cool" are the driving forces. Towards that purpose the art, dialog, and characters are well suited and unified in purpose. Don't expect too much depth, and you'll come out the other end having enjoyed the experience -- and quite possibly with a few nuggets of unexpected wisdom as well.

This is the first Anita Blake novel where monster politics are the driving force behind the entire plot, rather than an obstacle placed in the way of solving a supernatural murder. Even the assassination plot that drives events is given less time than the political consequences of those events and of Anita's growing involvement in non-human society. There is as well an emphasis on the erotic nature of Anita's relationships and the powers of the vampires and werewolves.

The various plot threads are entertaining, but the novel does not weave them together intricately; the characters are driven by events only incidental to the plot, with the various crisis points being resolved almost by accident. It's a style of writing that works well for books focused on relationships, but works less well for mysteries;

Without engaging in spoilers, this novel is the last one in the series that doesn't qualify as soft-porn in sections and soap-opera in others. It's a good read for everyone, but if you are the sort of person who prefers to avoid explicit sexuality for a significant component of your novels, this is the place to stop.

The novels from this point in the series forward are more erotic in tone, and the driving force for most events is the romantic triangle of Jean-Claude, Richard, and Anita rather than the supernatural-murder-mysteries that have been the primary focus of each book up until now. (Those mysteries are still present and sometimes play a primary role in the plot, but less time is spent on those than on resolving the relationship questions).

The following books are by no means bad, or poorly written, and they certainly have redeeming value. However, the increase in sexual content is a distinct flaw in comparison to the earlier books.

First: there's no action in this one. Anita is stuck in "relationship" mode, which for her means sex: thinking about it, talking about it, and defining her relationships around it. That's the downside. The upside is that Hamilton seems to be making strides towards resolving the conflicts Anita has been caught up for the last few books... that is to say, Anita is starting to understand and come to grips with the problem.

As might be expected, the story feels almost like a setup for the next novel (which, by the blurb, has a promising plot). There is a fair amount of Anita-spection about the fix she happens to be in, and one event likely to have serious repercussions -- serious enough that I'm surprised it was released in a short story that some fans will inevitably miss. It will be interesting to see how the forthcoming novel (Incubus Dreams) handles that.

Overall, the story is fairly well written. Although the it retains the blatant eroticism of the other recent Blake novels, it offers hope of resolution, and thus it's enough to keep me reading for the present. I've been disappointed by the way that the erotic elements of the Blake stories seem to be taking over, and I keep telling myself that I'll stop reading if the next book doesn't improve the situation. So far it is improving, but in little baby steps.

If you've been following the Anita Blake series for a while, and have been waiting for the next book, this will keep you satisfied for a little while. If you're new to the series, this isn't the place to start; try Guilty Pleasures. If you're not sure whether you want to continue with the series, don't buy this collection; wait for a review of the next book and buy that.

Fevre Dream is one of the best vampire novels I have read. Unlike many others, it maintains an elegant simplicity (similar in style to Agyar by Steven Brust). It conjures up the historical setting with infallible grace, and explores the common vampire mythology in a manner both new and comfortably familiar. Rarely do authors explore the historical vampire, and that quality makes this example a rare treat.

This one belongs on the must-read list for vampire fans.

If Obsidian Butterfly provided a vacation from Anita's insane sex life, Narcissus in Chains is proof that it was only a vacation. Almost the entire plot of this novel revolves around sex and monster politics; the formulaic murder mystery is little more than an incidental sketch, and the new type of monster -- werehyena -- is sufficiently absurd to ruin any sense of threat. Any monster whose howl is a barking laugh just doesn't come across as threatening.

The novel is written as if the author as only recently become aware of real-world sado-masochistic practices and seeks to explore them, but is still unaware of anything deeper than the outer layers of costume and props. There is no depth to the story, no subtlety. Anita has long ago crossed the line from injecting her sexuality into the novels by implication, as a subtle undercurrent to a murder mystery, and is now allowing it to define her actions.

Unfortunately, certain characters are introduced here that will reappear, and in fact play major roles in future books. For that reason, anyone intending to stick with the series should read this book. However, I recommend reading it from a library, or borrowed from a friend. Nothing that happens is worth actually buying a copy.

Guilty Pleasures is the first novel in a long-running series. The novel is set in a world very like our modern world, with a few minor differences: primarily the strong presence of the supernatural. In fact, that presence is so strong that vampires have been granted legal rights, a vaccine has been developed for lycanthropy, and degrees in "preternatural biology" are not unknown.

Anita Blake is making her way in the world through the use of her supernatural talents; specifically, her ability to raise the dead as zombies. While what might seem a talent limited only to halloween to some, Anita (along with the other employees of Animators, Inc) has found exotic uses for her abilities. Everything from zombies testifying in court to clear up the intent of their will to abused children getting one last chance to chew out their parents has come up. But that is the most mundane part of her duties.

Anita is also the registered vampire executioner for the city of St Louis. When a fanged menace goes rogue, it's her job to track down the criminal and put a stake through its undead heart. In order to facilitate that, she works closely with the local police's preternatural crimes unit.

So it should hardly come as a surprise that Anita is at the top of the list when someone -- or something -- starts killing the local vampires. But the vampires aren't exactly human themselves, and their power struggles cover centuries. It's easier to get in then it is to get out.

Guilty Pleasures starts off good and stays there. Any fan of vampire fiction will want to drain this book dry, along with most of its followup novels. Although this is the first novel in a series, readers should not be dismayed by the prospect of cliffhanger endings or a long committment: each novel in the series is written to stand alone, while also advancing the overall plot.

The writer is a skilled descriptive linguist, capable of evoking visceral and bloody horror with a great deal of power. This novel and this series is not for the squeamish! Blood drips from walls, soaks into carpets, and corpses are eaten by supernatural beasties. But fans of subtle shading and character development will not find Anita Blake's universe lacking in either. There is much to appreciate and enjoy throughout the series, and this novel is an accurate taste of the overall flavor.

Readers should be warned to expect a significant component of eroticism to the series. In the first 6 novels, the erotic element is muted; it exists in the interplay between the characters and the nature of the vampire's powers rather than explicit sexuality. The later novels, however, border upon soft-porn and the trend appears to be consistent. If that's not your cup of tea, read the series until you find it's not worth it anymore; because each novel stands alone you won't be left with a cliffhanger to trap you into reading the next book just to learn the ending.

Anita Blake and Jean-Claude struggle to sort out their love lives as a rogue pack of vampires moves into town, determined to take over the reins from the new Master of the City -- and not incidentally, to leave a few corpses for the police to investigate in the process. What sounds like the plot of a novel is only another day in Anita's harried life, and it doesn't get any easier from there.

To investigate the murders, Anita is forced to descend into the world of the vampires once more. Jean-Claude is ever willing to help, but his help comes with the price of his company: deadly, seductive, and more tempting for our heroine than any vampire has the right to be. Yet the vampire marks that have saved Anita's life in the past have also bound her to Jean-Claude, at risk of her soul.

Circus of the Damned takes Anita deeper into vampiric society, and tangles her deeper into Jean-Claude's tangled plots. Anita knows from experience that the Master of the City is monstrous... but what about the alterative? Is the vampire you know better than the vampire you don't?

There are problems with this novel which show up mainly in retrospect; the power level of the opposition is too high, relative to the degree of perceived threat. There are continuity problems with respect to the powers that are used. However, those problems are present primarily in retrospect; they do not pose a problem to the enjoyment of the book itself. Nor are they major problems with the series. The book remains a good read, and the minor flaws are the sort that only matter in a series with pretensions towards Literary Merit -- pretensions which the Anita Blake series wants nothing to do with.

Having established Jean-Claude as Master of the City in Circus of the Damned, in The Lunatic Cafe the attention shifts to Richard... Richard, Anita's science teacher and romantic interest... as well as beta wolf to Marcus in the local werewolf pack by way of a bad batch of lycanthrope vaccine. And while Anita learns to deal with her beloved getting furry once a month, she's handed a missing-lycanthrope case and a naga skin.

The Lunatic Cafe is the first of the Anita Blake novels to pay significant attention to the werewolf population. It's a whole new world for Anita, and for the readers as well, but it all fits together very well; Hamilton manages to invent her own rules while keeping the reader feeling as if they are only discovering the reality behind the legends.

And those rules work. The lycanthropes are just as alien, just as terrifying, just as monstrous, as the vampires... while still retaining their own unique qualities and flavor, both as a type of creature, and as individuals. Or, in other words, some werewolves are assholes, and others are quite friendly -- but they'll all eat you for dinner if they happen to be hungry and you look tasty.

This novel is definitely one of the better Blake novels, with the introduction it provides to a new segment of supernatural society and the political conflicts within the lycanthrope society becoming a concern. It is also the first to begin hinting towards a larger plot underlying the episodic nature of the books.

This novel is well worth a read, although vampire junkies will find somewhat less sustenance here compared to the first three novels. In my view, however, this represents a broadening of the series and its possibilities rather than a limitation.

This novel gives us an in-depth view of Edward's daily life, and some quite tantalizing hints of how he became who he is now. And although Anita's methods are more direct, and the role of monster politics in the series is less pronounced, there is no shortage of horrific events. Anyone prone to (and bothered by) highly-visual nightmares would be advised to skip this one. Ditto for those with a particular affinity for children -- or sensitivity to children being harmed. Some of the events in this book touch on normally taboo topics, although the depictions are not especially graphic by the standards of this series.

But if you can stomach the actions of the villians, this is one of the best of the Anita Blake novels. The largest complicating factors in Anita's life are absent, leaving her personal life mostly a non-factor. (Strange as it seems, Edward's personal life does become a factor). The plot is narrowly focused around the monster killings that Anita has been called in to solve, with a minor subplot that becomes predictably entangled with the primary storyline.

Rather than the more European mythology that Anita's adventures have usually encountered, Obsidian Butterfly is set in the southwest and focuses on the Aztec mythos. There is no shortage of interesting material there.

Anyone reading the series for the eroticism should skip this one. Otherwise, it comes highly recommended, especially for Edward fans.

It's said that some authors like to torture their characters. This book is proof that that's sometimes true. The council's visit is an excuse for them to do their best to break Jean-Claude's friends and followers by whatever means they feel necessary, up to and including torture.

If you think that this isn't exactly a model government, you wouldn't be wrong. But it makes for an interesting novel, if a bit sadistic at times.

The gore level here has been turned down a notch, but the eroticism is present and stronger than before. Unlike later novels, the plot is driving events, rather than Anita's sexuality. This keeps things to a bearable level, especially as there are interesting new vampires to contend with.

The police murder mystery in Burnt Offerings involves, unsurprisingly, arson. Other than that it's fairly standard, with the needs of the investigation forcing Anita to play with the monsters more than she would prefer. Her involvement with the lycanthropes increases as well, as their aid becomes a necessary part of her power base. The attendant touchy-feely is kept to a minimum and Anita's complaints about such are mostly muted.

And following the events of the previous book, Anita's relationship with Dolph is more than a little strained.

Overall, it's definitely not the best of the series, but it's solid.

Hellsing is a fairly unique take on the vampire mythos in anime. The art is done in an unusual style, more abstract than I would normally prefer, and somewhat repetitive. The characters are intriguing if occasionally hackneyed. Although it's hard to pack much plot into individual episodes, due to time constraints and the need for cool visuals, there is a metaplot that develops throughout the episodes that looks to be going somewhere interesting.

Fans of vampires and anime will find much to enjoy about this series, which seems to combine some of the best of both. However, there is definitely better vampire anime out there, including the classic Vampire Hunter D and Vampire Hunter D: BloodLust.

If Vampire Hunter D was an excuse for a high "cool factor", Bloodlust turns the cool factor up to 11 and adds moral ambiguity, a much longer runtime, better art, and much improved dialog. Perhaps the best way to describe this sequel is simply this: everything you liked about the first one is present in the sequel, and there are a lot of really good additions that bring depth and quality to the sequel. What the original could be understood to have if you read between the lines is made explicit here.

Perhaps the single largest difference apparant in Bloodlust is the quality of the art. It's simply pretty. There are some very stunning and impressive visuals, and even the characters are much more detailed and painstakingly drawn.

Similarly, although not as obvious at first glance, the dialog and translation have improved enough to express some of the subtexts that were hidden between the lines in the original. As before, the character of D remains mostly an enigma, allowing the personalities of those around him to do most of the expressing.

If you liked Vampire Hunter D you'll like this even more; it's better in every measurable way, except in that it can't be the first. If you didn't like D, you might like this one anyway, depending on what it was that you didn't like. And if you never saw the first one, you won't be missing anything vital to the plot.

The usual refrain is to not judge a book by its cover, but in many cases, you can do exactly that. Publishers pick books for two reasons: first, they want to sell the book; and second, they want to accurately represent its contents, so the people buying the book won't be disappointed or overly surprised at what they find. Good cover art doesn't necessarily make a good book, but cover art emphasizing sex usually means the same emphasis is present in the prose.

Incubus Dreams is, in that sense, perfectly predictable. The cover emphasizes sex, and so does the prose. In terms of sheer pagecount, most of the book is made up of explicit sex scenes. There's sex with werecats, sex with werewolves, sex with vampires, sex with penetration, sex without penetration, sex in a car, sex with bondage, sex with a flogger, sex with police witnesses, sex with two men at a time, sex with a different two men at a time, sex with metaphysical purposes, sex just for the sake of sex, sex in an office, sex in a different office, and undoubtedly many subtle variations on the theme that I can't quite recall.

Quite frankly, the few scenes that didn't involve sex take up perhaps a total of 10 chapters. Into those 10 chapters Anita somehow fits a murder mystery, a wedding (no, I'm not saying whose), and a whine about amorality. No, there isn't room to cover any of the those things in detail, what with all the sex.

If you're beginning to get the impression that I didn't like all the sex, you'd be right. It wasn't badly written by any means, but there's just too much of it, and it long ago ceased to be interesting. Unfortunately, it seems that sex is a plotting mechanism for Anita these days; so much of the story revolves around it that no progress can be made without it.

One of the larger meta-plot issues in recent books has been Anita's sexual and romantic hangups. Fans have been rooting for her to get over those hangups for a long time now, because it's been interfering with her real work -- investigating murders and slaying vampires. In some respects, Incubus Dreams is about Anita's struggle to finally deal with those hangups rather than whine about them. In that respect, the book represents a significant turning point.

Unfortunately, that turning point is towards more, rather than less, sex. Most fans wanted Anita to get over her hangups so she would stop whining about them, not merely so they could read even more pointless semi-erotica.

Frankly, the amount of actual, non-sexual plot in this book was embarassing by any measure. It's not badly written, it's just far, far too much. I've been telling myself for a while that I would stop reading the Anita Blake series if the books didn't stop their headlong descent into pornography, and this one is the last straw. I do not expect I will purchase the next book.

On the other hand, if you've been reading Anita for the sex, by all means, you'll love the book. Have fun.

Who do you call when you have a mass grave that's two centuries old and you want to raise them all from the dead? Anita Blake, of course. No one else can do it. But it's never as simple as that.

Where The Lunatic Cafe served to broaden the Anitaverse to include lycanthropes, Bloody Bones reaches into a different sort of mythology: fairy tales. Specifically, the Faerie, cold iron and four-leaf clovers and bad nursery rhymes and all. But if you were expecting nice nature-loving creatures with pointed ears, this isn't your book.

Historically, faeries resided somewhere between arrogantly neutral to actively cruel; they started at shades of dark grey and got a lot worse quickly. Faeries in the Anitaverse are the same way.

Aside from the mass grave and the faeries, Bloody Bones forces Anita to deal with what may be the first vampiric serial killer on record. And as usual, calling Jean-Claude for help gets her in even more trouble with the local vampires, who don't like being dropped in on by surprise.

This is the first novel in the series where the formulaic nature of the novels becomes noticable. Once again, the plot revolves around a mixture of monster kills and monster politics, with the odd hostage situation and a bit of romantic tension between Anita and her two romantic interests to spice things up and a newer, more powerful master vampire to contend with. Still, the addition of the Faerie is a new element that prevents the formula from interfering with the enjoyment of the story.

The degree of gore present in this novel is lower than in most of the others. Of course, it's hard to top bodies chewed up and eaten, bodies with pieces missing, blood-soaked carpets, blood-soaked teddy bears... after all the blood soaking, it's almost a relief to get a relatively small number of relatively undamaged bodies.

One of the more interesting side issues that is brought up by this novel is the interaction of the law with regard to new vampires being "brought across". How do you apply the age-of-consent laws to death by vampire bite? How do you deal with the dead body that will be waking back up after 3 nights? What if the parents want the body staked rather than letting it rise?

Not easy questions, and not easy answers.

Overall, the story is well-told and interesting enough in the details that the formulaic nature of the plot is forgiveable. There's no reason to avoid this novel, and a number of good reasons to read and enjoy it.