Review: The Gift of Fury by Richard Jackson

Rating: 3.3 out of 5

Every once in a while, I run across a book that I can’t help but think, “If there had been just this much more work put into it (or perhaps a little more), it could have been special.”

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Gift of Fury by Richard Jackson.

The setup of the book is as follows – Count Albritton (that’s his name, not his title…weird, I know, but it works) is a paranormal investigator working out of New York City. He and his friends (a pair of wizards, a vampire of some sort, and an immortal warrior) run up against a man named Jack Meredith, a wealthy entrepreneur who desires more than simply predicting how to work the stock market in his favor.

It seems that Mr. Meredith has gone to great lengths to awaken the Seven, a powerful group of beings harkening from the “Old Days” of magic. And it turns out that our beloved Count, who holds a special relationship with a magical ring called the Bloodstone, is the only one who can stop him.

I so, so wanted to love this book. The author has a fantastic voice, telling the tale from Count’s viewpoint. He goes in-depth about the workings of the magical world that exists just beneath our own “real” world, explaining things such as the Witching Hour, different types of vampires, and the differentiations of various forms of magical practices. It was honestly quite entertaining to read. Jackson paints a vision of New York that is mysterious as well as mundane, and he takes some well-known (and not so well-known) locations and makes them shine anew. Great job there.

The characters who surround the fabulously sarcastic Count, also have their own distinct voices. Highest on this list is Hagan, the eternal warrior. He’s gruff and strangely carefree, the type of braggart that can’t wait to let everyone around him know of his exploits, whether he should or not. Also intriguing was Scott Dorward, one of the two sorcerers Count associates with. He is wonderfully quirky and straightforward. The few scenes he appears in are some of the best in the whole book.

As for the plot…it’s simple but it works. When it all gets boiled down, this is an adventure story. Its aim is to present a new world and entertain you. The only real theme I could find would be find yourself, young man, as Count doesn’t understand the power he possesses and must constantly work to harness. As I said, it’s simple but enjoyable.

And then we have the problems, which are many. I usually don’t make a huge deal of the editing in books – a few typos don’t bother me – but this one is rife with so many errors it became distracting. Also, it is told in first-person present tense – which is a difficult style to pull off effectively – and even the flashbacks are presented in this way. It completely interrupts the flow of the story. Every time this happened, I had to scroll back to see if what I was reading happened now or then. Change the tense, man!

On the subject of those flashbacks, there were at least two too many. We could’ve done without discovering how Count found the Bloodstone or first met Hagan. These facts could have easily been disclosed organically through conversation or informative snippets, without exposition.

These aspects of the novel came close to ruining it for me. Close, but not quite. I still had a good time with it, and I thought the world author Jackson created seemed fresh and new. It’s too bad there are so many irritants, because were those facets not there, this could’ve been something special.

As presently constructed, it’s a fun rough draft, not a final product.

Which is a shame.

Plot - 7

Characters - 9

Voice - 8

Execution - 3

Personal Enjoyment – 6

Overall – 33/50 (3.3/5)

Purchase The Gift of Fury for the Amazon Kindle

Review - Erich's Plea by Tracey Alley

Rating: 2.2 out of 5

Reviewing can be a frustrating game.

You dive into a book. You want to love it. You get to know the author, and they’re a super-nice person. And yet sometimes the reading experience lags behind your expectations. You don’t want to be mean, but you owe it to everyone – yourself, your readers, hell even the writer themselves – to be honest.

That’s where I found myself with Erich’s Plea by Tracey Alley.

In its premise, the book is hopeful. Slade, the son of a king, has abdicated his rights to the throne in order to become a druid. He is eventually thrown in prison for nefarious reasons. He dreams of his father, who’s been captured (or killed), and is left instructions on how he should go about plotting his escape. He eventually does, with the help of the typical rogue’s galley of fantasy characters. And in the background of all this, there is the intrigue of a plot to take over the world by a singular dark entity with seemingly unlimited power.

There were a few problems I ran into with the story. First of all, for a main character, Slade is, honestly, not very interesting. He has no charisma, no charm. It’s almost as if he’s simply there. Secondly, the majority of the plot revolves around the big prison escape, which like Slade isn’t very exciting. The reading is quick, but the action scenes are lacking. The head-hopping between characters can be confusing, and the characters themselves are oftentimes clichéd. There reached a point where I wanted to say, “all right, get out of the prison already!” It drags on through the length of the novel, and I begged this particular storyline to end.

This is where I come to the most frustrating aspect of all in this book. Whereas the main story arc, the prison break, is mundane and tiresome, the peripheral occurrences show so much promise, so much thought. The main protagonist in these (too short) sections is Lord Michael Strong. He, along with the grand wizard (or necromancer – I couldn’t figure out which exactly) Lord Nexus are having clandestine meetings to figure out ways in which they can reunite the different kingdoms that always seem to be at odds with each other, under the poisonous eyes of The Dark One, the seemingly all-powerful evil presence.

Through their conversations, Lords Michael and Nexus reveal the history of the world author Alley has built, and it is wonderful. It is a mirror to our own, in which the xenophobia and racism that exists between the warring factions brings down what had the potential to be an almost utopian society. I greatly appreciated these aspects of the book, along with the descriptions of the different types of magic. I found these threads to be original and inventive, and well worth expanding upon.

However, the author doesn’t, and instead we’re thrust back into the boring escape plan.

There’s something else amiss with the work, however, and this has everything to do with The Dark One, himself. He’s painted as an omnipresent figure, one who knows everything that happens around him, who is tyrannical in his rule. And yet we meet him, face-to-face (first mistake), and he’s more like a caricature than a well-fleshed-out villain. Also, for someone so all-powerful, he’s surrounded by spies (second mistake). This lessens his effectiveness and turns the character into a joke. How could such a dominant being with the power of mind-reading and witchcraft at his disposal not know all these characters in his tight inner circle are plotting against him? It simply doesn’t make sense and, although this is strange to say about a work of fantasy, makes the story much less believable.

The writing style the author uses is brisk, but there is something off about it, as well. The comma usage is all over the place. Many of the sentences are run-ons. There is information that is contradictory or unnecessary to the action. Here are a couple prime examples:

As it always did, on those rare occasions that Luca came to this section of the prison, he found the utter silence unnerving, although, at least it masked the screams of the prisoners.

They could all do with some better supplies Slade knew, apart from Lara, Tares and Darzan, who appeared fully equipped, the rest of them carried only arms and equipment purloined from the dead guards.

(Perhaps these represent differences between Australian and American English...I'm not entirely sure)

Not only this, but the author has a tendency to repeat names over and over and over again when a simple “he” or “she” would suffice. This is distracting and more than a little bit maddening, as well.

And yet, all this aside, I would probably read another of Alley’s work if given the opportunity. She does have a playfulness to her tone that I find intriguing. Some of her characters are inventive and break their tropes. She has a good head for societal themes and world-building. It’s simply not present in this book as much as it should be.

I know there are more novels the series. Perhaps she has matured as a writer since this one was written, perhaps not. But if it doesn’t improve, that would be it for me.

As for Erich’s Plea…I found it middling, at best.

Plot - 3

Characters - 5

Voice - 5

Execution - 4

Personal Enjoyment – 5

Overall – 22/50 (2.2/5)

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Review: Cameo and the Highwayman by Dawn McCullough-White

Rating: 4.8 out of 5

I love it when a writer gets it. When you read an early piece, enjoy it greatly, yet think they could do better. Then you pick up their next book, and it improves on the first tenfold. Most things you would’ve changed have been altered. The emotion runs higher than ever. It’s exhilarating.

It is also how I felt reading Cameo and the Highwayman by Dawn McCullough-White.

The story picks up where Cameo the Assassin leaves off, with Cameo (the undead assassin), Black Opal (the gun-toting, rapier-swinging dandy of a highwayman) and Kyrian (the son of a priest who the previous two had been charged with protecting) heading for the island kingdom of Shandow. They had lost their friends and fellow travels in the first book, killed by a fellow assassin named Jude (who they’ve left for dead) and Cameo’s vampire master, Haffef.

Once arriving in Shandow, Cameo is approached by another vampire, Edel, who also has Haffef to thank (or curse) for his current state. Edel, seeking company after centuries of loneliness, enthralls Cameo and holds her captive in his home – a magically concealed partition of the mansion belonging to Shandow’s royal family. This leaves Opal and Kyrian alone, and gives Cameo ample time to sit with her thoughts, isolated from everyone, and reflect upon the situation her life (or un-life) has lead her to.

And this, readers, is where the book does more than shine.

Just as in the first book, Cameo remains a metaphor for the abused woman. However, whereas in Cameo the Assassin she takes a back seat to other, more fleshed-out and interesting characters, in this one she takes center stage. She bemoans her loss of humanity. She hates both what she’s become and what she might someday be. She wants love – longs for it – and yet finds it hard to give in to that most personal of emotion. She is damaged, and in some ways she thinks that to show affection to another would be to pass that emotional mutilation on to them.

Which is what makes the relationship between she and Black Opal so intriguing. Theirs is a relationship rooted in base needs – the need for companionship, the need to know that no matter how much of a horror they might have become, there is someone else who shares their pain. Just the simple act of looking in the mirror proves this out. Cameo does so, and she sees a woman scarred, both physically and emotionally, by her past. And Opal, with his smallpox scars and dead eye, echoes as such. And yet, when they look at each other, neither notices the faults. All they see is the chance for camaraderie and sensuality – which Opal is more than willing to give, though Cameo needs a bit more convincing. She is still running away from her past, and starts to make great strides towards remedying this, though at the end it is proven how much internal growth she still has to make. This being said, the scenes of their intimacy are both subtle and heartbreaking.

Speaking of Opal, he is the subject of the book’s second major theme, and this one I found even more captivating than the burgeoning love between two broken people. It seems he’s done some horrible things in his past – actions whose consequences are wide-reaching enough to affect Cameo, herself. He has lived his life trying to cover up his deeds, and when they are revealed, he fears the undead woman he loves will no longer want him. Interestingly enough, this is his major concern. He ends up facing death, and all he can think about is how much the disclosure of his deeds will affect her. It’s beautiful, and it rings true to life. I know I’ve thought this way when contemplating some of my past regressions. Sometimes, the big picture is dwarfed by the smaller, more intimate one.

This is where the story becomes surprising – though I guess it shouldn’t be. Cameo finds out about these dastardly exploits, and she doesn’t care. To her, Opal isn’t the man he’d been. He’s become something new, something she doesn’t want taken away from her. This level of forgiveness is intense in its scope, and begs the question: Are we defined by our past, and can we ever make amends?

The answer might not be so simple. In the story, we see that Opal is still haunted mentally by his perceived misdeeds, and it is made all the more painful by the fact these actions were made with honorable intent. It’s the results that were unfortunate. So how can his past be absolved if he can’t absolve himself? This is the dichotomy facing all the characters, and also shows their inherent blindness. Cameo, for her part, forgives him, and yet she, too, tortures herself for the things she’s done. It’s fascinating, and a great psychological study. I’m not sure if the author has a background in this sort of thing, but the way the story reads, the way the character’s motivations are revealed, says that if she hasn’t, she is surely an extremely bright storyteller. It would take one to pull something like this off.

The writing style is brisk and fast-paced. I finished the book in less than two days. Chapters flow into each other beautifully. If I have one complaint – and this is something I feel a duty to reveal – it’s that there is still a lot of head-hopping. To be honest, it surprisingly didn’t bother me in the slightest this time (probably because the story is so expertly crafted and flows without a hitch), but I need to be fair and consistent here. However, there are no in-paragraph switches as far as I could tell, so the point loss is minimal.

That small glitch aside, this is a brilliant book, one of the five best I’ve read since starting this review blog. As a reader, I tend to gravitate more to emotional threads than anything else, and there were a few times over the course of reading Cameo and the Highwayman that I started to get teary-eyed. So bravo there.

This is an excellent novel, one that deserves to be read. It’s meaningful and has something important and revealing to say. And yet I’ve read far less skillfully crafted novels that outsell it. Perhaps this is simply a matter of exposure. Who knows. It is my hope, however, that people will read this review and jump at the chance to read this book – and the first one, as well. They’re both worth the miniscule amount of money it would take to buy them.

Dawn McCullough-White is a fresh face in literature, one that I hope succeeds. It’s time we recognize those who have something interesting to say and push their books to the forefront. This reviewer, for one, would find his life a lot less full complete if I hadn’t read her work.

Plot - 10

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 8

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 48/50 (4.8/5)

Purchase Cameo and the Highwayman for the Amazon Kindle

Review: Hollowland by Amanda Hocking

Rating: 4.8 out of 5

I love horror. In the past, I would read nothing but. It encapsulated my every reading and viewing experience for years. There was just something about how much these works, when done well, could be so emotionally and intellectually viable, that made them so appealing.

In this regard, I’ve only had one complaint – the dearth of female contributors to the genre. Truth be told, I adore the feminine perspective, but their presence has been lacking. Sure, we have Anne Rice, but she hasn’t written anything that’s appealed to me since Memnoch the Devil. And then we have Stephanie Meyer…but to put her works of paranormal teenage lust under the horror umbrella is severely misguided. And that’s about it.

But then recently I discovered Amanda Hocking, and I think I’m in love.

Now, most of Hocking’s books definitely fall into the paranormal romance/young adult category, which doesn’t necessarily interest me. However, I received her newest novel, Hollowland, as a review copy, and I have to tell you…this is horror done just about perfectly.

Hollowland is the story of Remy, a nineteen-year-old survivor of the zombie apocalypse. The novel throws you right into the action; at the beginning, the quarantine she is living in (somewhere in the Nevada desert) falls under attack by the hungry undead. She escapes, along with a thirteen-year-old girl named Harlow. Remy’s younger brother Max, who also lived there, had been evacuated when the invasion began. Remy, as his only surviving family member, takes it upon herself to find him once more.

Just as with most apocalyptic novels, this one is a journey. Remy and Harlow head north, in search of Max. Along the way they meet up with Blue, a not-quite-doctor, and Lazlo, a young man who’d been in one of those pop-punk bands (think Blink-182) before the world they all knew collapsed into man-eating madness. Remy also, in one of the quirkier aspects of the book, discovers a lioness hooked up to a trailer. Remy saves the lion and it becomes another travel companion – one that is, since animals are immune to the virus that has destroyed modern civilization, indispensible when it comes to helping her small pride survive the various attacks that occur.

So this odd group heads north, encounters zombies, fights zombies, gain new travel companions, watch some of those new companions die, and eventually reach the quarantine. And that’s about it for the plot. It’s basic, as far as zombie tale goes. But that’s not what I found so likeable about it.

The characters are brilliant – Remy in particular. She’s morose and unfriendly, an individual who’s bound to her duty and responsibility, and who’s also been understandably tainted by her experiences following the end of the world. She carries herself with a quiet strength that is beautiful and haunting at the same time. Harlow, her companion, is still young and often a bit more sensible than her protector. She is prone to outbursts of immaturity, and she holds a longing for some sort of normality that causes her to perhaps look past certain aspects of the people they meet, aspects that could prove dangerous, in the anticipation they could perhaps give her a safer, less hectic existence. Combine the two of them, and a somewhat depressing theme washes over the words that I find rare when considering the subgenre of apocalyptic zombie fiction. These are no more than children we have here, and the text doesn’t lose sight of the fact that they’ve lost their childhoods. In fact, this is in some ways the main point – that the girls are girls and they (especially Remy) lament the fact they’ve had to become women quickly. As I said, this is something I appreciate, a practical facet of storytelling that many who’ve written end-of-the-world tales (this side of McCarthy) tend to ignore.

And this is only one of the many themes presented within. Just as with the best horror, the monsters are simply part of the story, and the true moral is told with them as a backdrop. In fact, often it is the people, themselves, who are the real monsters. From the messianic zealot they meet (aptly named Korech, meaningful for those of you who remember Waco, Texas) to the violent marauders that populate one of the towns they come across, it ends up being regular old un-infected humans who beget some of the worst malevolence found within. And when you combine these ill-meaning actions with the sometimes selfish actions of Remy and her crew, you can see how those shades of gray filter into the characters, making every decision difficult. This adds to the hard-line feel that Remy, in particular, encapsulates. She is a woman on a mission, after all. How much of herself is she willing to sacrifice?

The answer, come the end of the book, is everything. And it’s beautiful.

I found very few flaws with this novel. It’s told in first-person, which isn’t my favorite viewpoint (though I have used it in the past, myself), but for this it works. It allows us to see the world through Remy’s jaded eyes, to feel her dissatisfaction and doubt, to understand how much she simply wants to be the teenager she is. In fact, come the final pages, it is only through her giving in to her humanity, when she finally allows herself to live rather than simply survive, that she is able to follow through with the hardest choice she’s made in her life. In that moment I cried out for her, wishing I could dive into the page and change her mind.

Hollowland is a fast read. I completed it in about four hours of engrossed reading. It’s simple in structure but complex in emotion. Author Hocking doesn’t shy away from gore (it’s there in abundance, of course, being a book about dead folks that eat people), but the violence of the piece doesn’t overwhelm the reader. It has everything a horror novel should have, and is entirely captivating. In other words, Hollowland is a rare treat, like a fine wine we know we should savor but can’t help consuming at a rapid pace because, well, it’s just so good. Hollowland might not redefine the genre, but it just may change the fact that women have been so sparse. This is something I hope to happen, because, well, it needs to.

Amanda Hocking is a master storyteller. She knows how to reel in her reader and keep them glued to her words. Anyone who has any interest at all in reading a well-told story needs to read this. It’s fantastic, horrific, and strangely beautiful. Once you reach the open ending, you’ll hope the writer decides to continue with Remy’s tale, because you’ll want to see these wonderfully fleshed-out characters carry out their journey to its conclusion.

Plot - 10

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 8

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 48/50 (4.8/5)

Purchase Hollowland in the Kindle Store, or in paperback.