A Wastrel's Tale is (probably) the first book in a swords and sorcery zombie apocalypse series. The story revolves around a member of an order dedicated to fighting necromancy with the use of arms and specialized magic, yet for decades now there have been but few necromancers. Indeed, only one of any notable talent or skill, and that one in captivity. An ideal condition for a third son who would dearly love to spend his life training, drinking, and wenching, no? Unfortunately, duty is about to call...
Fans of the author, RW Krpoun, will get more of what they are used to: a literary interpretation of the sort of adventure they are used to getting with a side of dice. Unlike the new "LitRPG" genre, though, the story is taken seriously without interruptions for stats while the characters think about leveling up. Just good, solid adventure with interesting characters. The setting is a little generic, but time may improve that, and those elements close to the story are creative and fleshed out.
An Airless Storm follows up on the adventures of Andrew Cochrane and his security service of interstellar mercenaries. Following their initial success in funding their operations, the company has ordered more ships and larger ships. But their enemies are doing the same. The book has the same vaguely Heinlein-juvenile feel, and the plot armor is less perfect. Mostly it represents an improvement, but the ratio of people talking about their plans and engaging in covert operation shenanigans versus space battles is still pretty high. The characters are also a bit weak, with most of them feeling like masks the narrator is wearing. That's one of the fundamental risks of delivering information to the reader through characters having conversations, but it takes a bit of skill to hide.
Peter Grant's new novel, The Stones of Silence, is set in his science-fiction universe, sharing it with his two other series starting with Take the Star Road and War to the knife). The setup for his new series is interesting, but shares the flaws of the earlier works. In particular, the protagonist appears to wear plot armor. While his efforts to be prepared justify the resulting success, it significantly reduces the sense of peril -- not to mention the sense of realism. The story remains entertaining, but lacks a certain vigor and immediacy.
Stylistically, it's a cross between a Heinlein juvenile and one of David Webber's Honor Harrington books, except not quite as good as either.
The one-line review is that Interstellar is the movie that 2001 should have been. It has a mysterious anomaly orbiting Saturn, a realistic depiction of a space mission to investigate and explore. But it also has so much more: incredible, moving performances from the leading actors and actresses, an emotional investment on both the personal and the species level, strange and wonderful and terrible things to find, and a powerful human drama that plays out across that background.
The movie is not without flaws. It starts slowly. There's some emotional tearjerking (effective, but manipulative). The hard science approach sort of devolves in the ending. And I can't really talk a lot about the plot without spoiling it. But it's a good movie, highly recommended, very pretty, very inspiring, with a few subtle hints of conservative-leaning politics.
Brief Cases by Jim Butcher is a collection of short stories in the very popular Dresden Files series, named for the central character Harry Dresden, Chicago's only professional wizard -- or at least the only one with an ad in the phone book. I don't normally go in for short story collections, but occasionally with an established universe my completionist instincts will kick in. In this case I had already read Side Jobs, a similar collection by the same author in the same universe.
If you liked one, you'll probably like the other; perhaps even too much, because they share at least one story in common. Despite that there was enough new material to be interesting, including some time with the camera focused on the smaller characters. There's an adorable story featuring Harry's daughter and his dog Mouse at the zoo, with carefully layered viewpoints from everyone, including the dog. There are two Molly stories (one new), and one detailing Butters' first excursion as a polka loving medical examiner and [spoiler].
If you're a fan of the universe already and you enjoy short story collections, there's content to enjoy here. My only caveat is that $15 (as of this posting, in the Kindle Edition) is a bit steep for a collection of short stories where not all the content is new, even when the total page count runs to 450 pages.
A sequel to Sufficiently Advanced Magic, On the Shoulders of Titans manages to significantly complicate the plot. The number of characters who may not be trustworthy or whose interests may lie in a direction other than that of their allies grows to very nearly equal the number of characters in the book. Thankfully, the "magic school" elements of the plot are reduced almost to insignificance; the main character barely attends class and spends only a limited amount of time on screen taking tests. Which probably explains why he isn't doing so well in school, despite having powerful friends (met as a results of events in the first book) basically tutoring him.
There's still a little bit of the annoying tendency to preach about gender and sexuality, and the main character doesn't seem to know if he should be attracted to men (his friend Jin, who asked him to a dance and then betrayed him) or women (Cecily, the girl to whom he has been betrothed for years, but has mostly fallen out of contact with), and the one annoyingly genderless "they/them".
That said, there's a lot of other interesting stuff to keep you reading. There's not going to be a lot of emotional depth or impact, despite the author's hints at an abusive father and absent mother and post-traumatic stress disorder, but there will be intellectually interesting magic and challenges to overcome.
Consistently interesting, if not consistently entertaining.
What do you get when you combine an interesting magic system, a lot of influence from video games, a competent but emotionally distant author, a dash of gender ambiguity, a token pinch of political preaching, and yet another book about a child who goes to magic school? Apparently, you get a pretty good stew of a book (Sufficiently Advanced Magic) that's enjoyable to read, intellectually interesting, and only rarely makes me want to throw it against the wall for brief periods.
Folks, this is why people hate message fiction: it throws you out of the story, it's pointless, it's irrelevant, and it can ruin the reader's enjoyment of an otherwise perfectly good book. For example, in this review I could be writing about how the magic system is pretty unique and detailed enough to build most of the book around, or how the main character is saddled with an unusual set of abilities that force him to rely on preparation and thought rather than simple brute force, or the interesting implications of having a level system that relies on entering what is effectively a series of video games with puzzles, fights, and similar ideas that must be solved or overcome to gain more power.
But, instead, I feel like I have to write about the fact that the main character is mostly asexual, but possibly gay, and that his society has apparently eliminated all conception of how sexual relationships usually work to the point that a male inviting another male to a dance is completely shrugged off as normal when it only takes up a page or so of the book. (It's clearly being set up as some kind of long term love interest, though). It's not bad, but it feels preachy and messagey, and there's a passage early in the second book which is explicitly preachy and messagey. It's like trying to eat your stew, savoring the interesting taste of each element, and finding an ice cube in your spoon occasionally.
They don't taste bad, necessarily, but they don't taste good either, and you sort of wonder why they are there.
AT LAST, SIR TERRY, WE MUST WALK TOGETHER. ; Terry Pratchett (@terryandrob) March 12, 2015
Terry took Deaths arm and followed him through the doors and on to the black desert under the endless night. ; Terry Pratchett (@terryandrob) March 12, 2015
I was never as much of a fan of Terry's writing as others; I tried a few of his books and they left me mildly amused at best. Perhaps I chose poorly, and tastes surely differ. Yet I have known many people who were given much joy from his works, and I mourn on their behalf.
Having set aside my higher expectations after Earth Unaware, I was anticipating pretty much a simple adventure story this time around. That's pretty much what I got with Earth Afire. Unexpectedly, though, we were introduced to Mazer Rackham in this book, and he was unfortunately less than impressive as a character. In Ender's Game, Card writes a character who is convincingly super-intelligent yet childish. Mazer is supposed to be cut from similar if not quite identical cloth, but he doesn't carry it convincingly.
On the whole I was disappointed with this book more than the first.
I ended up reading Orson Scott Card's First Formic War series because of a discussion I had with a friend of mine about the central moral question of Ender's Game: was Ender's action to end his war moral or not? It would be a spoiler to describe exactly what he did; suffice it to say that it's a close call based on the available information, and our opinions differed based primarily on whether the books in this series were considered canon or not. She had read them, I had not; but I had read the sequels to Ender's Game and she had not. She thought the Formics had attacked first and Ender's actions were ultimately justified; I thought the question of Ender's Game hinged on the crucial first contact question of "What did the Formics know and when did they know it?"
So I decided to read the series and find out, at least the first book (Earth Unaware). I should point out that I avoided reading the series previously because I tend to avoid "Big name author with unknown coauthor" pairings; they are usually basically ghostwriting arrangements, and while sometimes it works, too often it doesn't. This time around, it's more complex than that.
For the rest of the review, with very mild spoilers, click below.
The Edge of Tomorrow is a Tom Cruise military sci-fi vehicle, and it's a bundle of contradictions that actually work out to a pretty good movie. Let me start by hitting you with what is obvious from the trailer: alien invasion, near-future powered armor. Those aspects are mostly handled well. The power armor is much more realistic than, say, Tony Stark's Iron Man armor; it's basically strength-enhancing and load-carrying with some token "armor" and a few mounted weapons. Cruise even gets a chance to lampshade the fact that he isn't wearing a helmet. (The real reason is that he is getting paid millions for his face to be visible, of course). The aliens are alien aliens and not very comprehensible to humanity.
I don't think it's too much of a spoiler to say that there's a military focus to the movie, and I was skeptical about how Hollywood would handle a movie about military heroics in an alien invasion. Sometimes they get it right, sometimes they don't. The stereotype of the military being dumb misfits was there in spades. On the other hand, clearly that wasn't everyone; the main character was thrown in with the misfits on account of an act of utter cowardice early in the movie when he is told that he will actually be expected to fight.
The other thing I can say without spoiling too much is that the movie is a transparent ... homage? Reference? Tribute? I'm not sure.. to D-Day. Aside from releasing the movie on the literal anniversary of the invasion, the aliens invade Europe, are apparently based in Germany, and kill everyone. They are opposed by a US and UK lead counter invasion from the West and a simultaneous invasion from Russia to the East. A good chunk of the movie concerns events on the beach at Normandy. We're left to imagine whether they herded people into camps and made them wear yellow stars first, I guess.
I will say more with spoilers below, but the short summary is, it's a good movie, both as general entertainment, as a sci-fi experience, and as a military war movie. Just recite "These are individuals, not stereotypes" occasionally when the condescension gets too thick.
The trailers sort of hint at the third sci-fi concept in the movie, which is where the main character goes roughly 24 hours back in time each time he gets killed. (Never mind why, that really would be a spoiler). This was pretty well handled, and adds a very interesting intellectual feel to the movie. The characters abuse it mercilessly in a way that actually adds another layer to the whole; it's basically what video gamers do to beat a game. Get killed, go back to your last save game and try again until you get it right.
Fans of Robin Hobb's Assassin series already know that they are in for an emotional roller coaster, but Assassin's Quest in particular is very difficult to read. All of the supporting characters that Fitz loved and trusted have been wrested away from him by one manner of disaster or another. Those whose lives have included periods of major depression will recognize the symptoms and the self-destructive impulses. This is not a book for the emotionally fragile, but then, if you are still reading the series by this point it should be obvious. In a way, the book is noteworthy for that quality in itself: rarely does an author bring their main character so low and portray the results with such unsympathetic clarity.
Anyone who has been reading the books hoping desperately for a happy ending is unlikely to be satisfied, and I was personally somewhat disappointed by the deus ex machina quality.
Overall, it's a different sort of book. The saying is that the point of a story is the journey rather than the destination; this book is a perfect example and perfect counterexample in one. Reaching the destination is unlikely to make the reader particularly happy, but does bring a sort of catharsis; and anyone who can reach the end of the book without feeling strongly for the characters is probably a sociopath.
The Elfstones of Shannara (The Sword of Shannara) is, in my opinion, the best of the Shannara books. Terry Brooks has exorcised the need to imitate Tolkein, and is now free to explore a somewhat different -- and more original -- story. While he does not succeed in creating a classic that will ring down through the ages, he does manage a reasonably enjoyable fantasy novel.
Unfortunately, reasonably enjoyable is still pretty flawed. The main issue in the story is whether the main character can access and use the power of the Elfstones. The answer is generally no, or at least not yet; eventually the threat grows to the point where their power can be accessed to smash the opposition and the quest continues. Once the reader has figured out the pattern, there's not really much sense of threat. The quest is pretty much a standard "take the McGuffin to Mount Doom", conveniently handed out by a Druid with very little backstory.
All that said, this is probably the best of the Shannara series, and a good place to start with Brooks to see if you will like him as an author. There is very little connection with the first book in the series (The Sword of Shannara) and the writing is better than The Wishsong of Shannara. All three have basically the same plot with different McGuffins.
Over at the Mad Genius Club, Amanda finds a publisher talking about ebooks as a "service" and charging more for them than printed books because they are convenient for the reader. Both sides have valid points, but the discussion hook is Amanda's conclusion:
But to say an e-book should cost considerably more than a print book because it is more convenient is ludicrous. It is especially so when the publisher refuses to admit that a reader buys the book instead of just licensing the right to read the book. As for Luby, well, he needs to quit drinking the kool-aid and realize that the reading public isnt quite as naive or foolish as he seems to think it is. As for the publishers and bean counters still doing their song and dance of joy over what he had to say, they need to adapt t changing times and demands or be left behind. As the song says, the times, they are a-changing.
I don't have a lot to say on this topic, mostly because I think the people screaming about it the loudest are really annoying and trying to make mountains out of the mole-hill they personally saw once. We all have bad personal experiences with other people occasionally, especially when everyone involved is probably drunk, but those experiences aren't a license to attack an entire community. Individuals are responsible for their own actions.
... But, that said, I've been following Leigh Butler's reread of A Song of Ice and Fire, because it's really amusing to watch her bang her head on her desk over and over and over again while complaining about sexism in Martin's universe. And the thing is, she's justified in Martin's universe, because it really is amazingly sexist. Perhaps uncomfortably so, because a lot of the sexism is rooted in the very real physical realities of violence.
The more we learn about Europa, the greater its allure. Galileo Galilei discovered Jupiters four largest moons in 1610, and in the intervening centuries Europa, the smallest of them, has revealed itself as a likely harbor for liquid waterand maybe even life. Last week NASA took tentative steps toward sending a robotic mission therea goal long lauded by planetary scientists. But exploring Europa presents some serious technological, financial and political challenges.
The science fiction version of Jupiter's moon is a pseudo-documentary in the "found footage" style. It won't blow your mind, because after all it's fiction; but it does a decent job of capturing the excitement of scientific exploration without falling back on the tropes of humanoid aliens with funny foreheads or instant hostilities. If you're interested in science and space exploration, this will keep you entertained for an evening. If your main interest in aliens is blowing them into small pieces, you can skip this one.
There's not much to say about Adapt and Overcome (The Maxwell Saga), the third book in Peter David's series about a young man who joins the space navy and comes of age amongst a series of increasingly improbable coincidences. It's fast, reasonably fun, and the infinite improbability drive is set to just a notch below winning the lottery without buying a ticket. The author's complete failure to grasp his readers' comments about his main character's plot invincibility in prior books is a charming mirror of his main character's casual stroll through explosions, firefights and love affairs that never seem to leave a scratch on him.
Readers are unlikely to be bored, but are also unlikely to remember the plot the next day. I was hoping the author would step up his game a little bit after his first two books, since comments on his amazon page suggested he was trying to address the plot armor problem. Unfortunately, the most striking difference between this book and the previous two is the spaceship on the cover.
Brandon Sanderson's excursion into young adult literature, Steelheart (The Reckoners) explores the world of superheroes and supervillains... or more accurately, explores a world where there is a surfeit of supervillains and absolutely no superheroes whatsoever. The world is based roughly on our own present, but with variations ranging from the surreal (supervillains ruling various cities as dictators) to the bizarre (transforming entire cities into steel, with super-moles digging vast tunnels for people to live and work within).
The plot is fairly complex for a young-adult novel, with twists that an experienced reader will be able to anticipate without the sense of boring certainty that makes the whole exercise feel like a color-by-numbers exercise. I was entertained, but not blown away, which appears to be my usual reaction to Sanderson's more workmanlike books.
For devoted fans of the young-adult-superhero novels, this has a lot more depth and realism than most books in the genre and can be readily enjoyed by adults as well. Unfortunately those same qualities mean it lacks the most important quality for a really good superhero book: a light-hearted sense of fun with witty quips flying as fast as the punches. This one is definitely on the grim side.
The Silver Gryphon (Mage Wars) is the third book in Lackey's Mage Wars trilogy, which itself is an attempt to fill in some major backstory to her Valdemar universe. It's not particularly memorable, and there are few ties to the larger world and story of Valdemar itself. Even if you've read the first two books in this trilogy, you're safe skipping this one. It's really bad, but in an inoffensive way.
I picked this up hoping for a mildly interesting tale of intrigue, and what I got was the renaissance through the eyes of a feminist who really, really wishes she could grow up to be a swordswoman. The Privilege of the Sword (Riverside) is not a bad book exactly; it's an unrealistic premise handled reasonably well with a light dose of intrigue and humor on top. Interesting, particularly for the attention to detail given to the fencing, but not very meaningful.