REVIEW: Queen of the Void (The Void Queen Trilogy Book 1)

Rating: 5 out of 5

Michael Wallace is an author who cut his teeth on fantasy, then made a name for himself writing gothic contemporary thrillers, and moved on to finding even more success in historical fiction.

So obviously, when I went to dive into science fiction again after years of ignoring the genre, he’s the author I chose.

It ended up being a very wise choice.

A positive aspect of authors who find success in multiple genres is that the aspects of those different genres bleed into, even precept, their current projects. In Queen of the Void, the first novel in the Void Queen trilogy, Wallace uses this to great success. What the author has created is a universe hundreds of years in the future, where space travel is the norm and alien races have both been discovered and warred against, that reinvents facets of his vast knowledge of fantasy and history.

This is a space opera that borrows from our real, earth-time history. It’s a reimagining of the height of the British Empire, set on starships in the middle of the inky blackness of space instead of the Celtic, North, and Norwegian seas. The various cultural sects directly correlate to the players of 11^th- to 15^th-century European history: Albionese are the Britons at the height of their colonialism; the Landino represent Spain, Britain’s sometimes-ally and explorers of the high seas; the Singaporians call on the Song Dynasty’s ingenuity and technological advancements; and finally, the Scandians, the Vikings of lore, only here Wallace subverts expectations—instead of a plague bringing an end to the constant raiding and occupation of a hyper-aggressive people, it instead serves as the reason for their burgeoning bloodlust. Rather brilliant, if you ask me.

The story itself is rather simple: Catarina Vargas, the youngest daughter in a longtime pirate family, has decided to settle her own isolated nook of the galaxy. Only her plans are thwarted by the Albionese Royal Navy, who then bring her on to help set up an outpost in Scandian space, to allow for the Navy to build a supply line for a continuation of a war with aliens (bird-like beings called Apex) that is sure to come. Of course, wackiness ensues, and it’s all rather glorious.

Wallace has done a lot of work to invent a concept of space travel and warfare that is believable, and again based on very real history. The concept of traveling through jump points to different sections of the universe is an old one, but the author does a bang-up job of making it not so easy of a proposition. The prospect of space-warfare-as-naval-battle is another tried and true model, used here to an effect that almost borders on hyper-realism. I really can’t say enough about how expertly these battle scenes are put together, how well they flow, and how gripping they feel. It all just seems so real, even the parts you know are logically impossible, which is the highest praise you can give to a work of science fiction.

In closing, let me say yes, this book is awesome. I’ll be checking out the rest of the series soon, and then likely dive into the set of novels Wallace published before this, titled Starship Blackbeard, which takes place in the same universe. So get this book, people. It’s a hell of a smart, enjoyable ride. You’ll have a good time, no matter what genre you prefer.

Purchase this book on Amazon, or read for free with Kindle Unlimited.

Request for reviews: ARCs now available

As I wrote in my previous blog post, The Mirror of Souls will be live in a scant 21 days. With that in mind, and having received a good number of betas back from my proofreaders, it's about time for me to start sending the call out for reviews.

If you would like an Advance Review Copy of The Mirror of Souls, please email me at rjduperreauthor@gmail.com and write "ARC Request" in the title. In the body of the email, tell me whether you require a .mobi (Kindle), .epub (Nook), or simply a PDF of the book, and I will send it on its way.

All I ask in return for these giveaways is a fair and honest review on Amazon (or whatever platform you use, aka Barnes & Noble or Kobo) when you are finished. Even though the release date for the Kindle isn't until January 22nd, it will be available at most other outlets ten days before that date, and the paperback will be live as well. Any words there, even if it's just a couple, would be greatly appreciated. This I beg of you.

Thank you in advance, and I look forward to hearing from you.

Rob D

Review: Epitaphs: The Journal of the New England Horror Writers

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

I love short stories. I love to read them, I love to write them. But you know what’s better than a short story? A whole freaking collection of them! And someone recently shipped me over a copy of Epitaphs, a Stoker-nominated collection of tales and poetry from the New England Horror Writers, a group that is very close to my heart. Of course I had to dive right in.

Okay, enough banter. Let’s get down to the daunting task of looking at the stories themselves.

To Sleep, Perchance to Die by Jeffrey C. Pettengill: Well, let’s just say the collection didn’t start out so well for me. Here we have a tale of a CPAP machine gone horribly wrong. The tone just seemed to lag, and honestly the ending seemed a bit campy, though without the fun that camp implies.

The Christopher Chair by Paul McMahon: And here we go! One of the better stories in the collection, about an antique wheelchair blessed by St. Christopher that can supposedly heal the sick…for a price. Atmospheric and full of confliction, McMahon really packs a punch with this one.

A Case of the Quiets by Kurt Newton: The first poem in the collection, and a doozy. It brings to mind horror poetry of old, with a very Poe-esque flow, and comes very close to matching the former master’s penchant for nailing the dark side of human nature coming from within the mundane.

Build-A-Zombie by Scott T. Goudsward: This one was quirky and fun, telling of a boy assembling an unusual gift from a new sort of gift shop. It made me want to know more about the world in which it takes place, which is a good thing.

Not An Ulcer by John Goodrich: Wow. This story, to me, was far and away the best of the bunch. In it a man who hates everything about the world, including himself, literally separates himself from his emotions. It’s “Be careful what you wish for,” taken to the extreme. Tremendous, and the ending gave me chills.

The Possessor Worm by B. Adrian White: A quaint little tale told through emailed correspondences between characters, kind of an updated take of Lovecraft, if you will. In the end the payoff fell a little flat. Still pretty good, however.

Make a Choice by John M. McIlveen: Truly haunting, telling the story of a madman who torments a family for a night, forcing the parents into a decision that no parent would ever—or should ever—have to make. It’s a fantastic exploration of the human condition and how survival of the fittest might not be completely erased from our cellular memory. As an added bonus, the end is shocking because of what doesn’t happen, which surprisingly makes it all the more disturbing.

The Death Room by Michael Allen Todd: Another poem, this one not nearly as good as the first, but I still appreciated the creepy undertones.

Perfect Witness by Rick Hautala: Now this is a twist. A murdered man is brought back to a sort of pseudo-life for a short time in order to testify at the trial of his murderer. The interplay between his thoughts and what might actually be happening in the world outside his rotting brain was really well done. Also, the author hints that this experiment might have grave repercussions down the road. Do I smell a novel coming? Given the author’s enjoyable style, I hope so.

Stony’s Boneyard by Glenn Chadbourne and Holly Newstein: Atmosphere, sorrow, and forgiveness rule the day in this excellently (and traditionally) crafted short. It deals with a tattoo artist and the biker whose back represents the greatest achievement of her life. Unlike a lot of stories in the collection, this one actually ends on a bittersweet note, equal parts solemn and hopeful. Really well done.

Kali’s Promise by Trisha J. Wooldridge: The third poem, and another traditionally-inspired example of getting exactly what you ask for. It’s quite entertaining and told in a repetitive way that added to the tone of dread. I knew it was well written because I guessed the ending after the very first stanza and it still had me captivated.

Sequel by David Bernard: Not my favorite. I’ve seen this sort of plot—about a horror writer who takes his inspiration a bit too literally—many times before. It’s well written, but predictable.

Malfeasance by David North-Martino: This was perhaps the most maddening story in the bunch. Just as with the previous story, I knew how it would end very early on. And yet it was crafted so intricately, I kept thinking no, I’m wrong, there’s a twist here I’m not seeing. But then…it ended just how I thought it would. Disappointing in that regard, yes, but it was still very much worth the read.

Private Beach by Stacey Longo: A fun little romp that harkens back to the pulp horror era, about two beachgoers who of course ignore a No Trespassing sign and pay the price for it.

All Aboard by Christopher Golden: The second-best story in the collection. A disquieting tale of a mother and father’s struggle to come to grips with the death of their child, with a dash of the supernatural thrown in. It really is a heavy-hearted story that thankfully doesn’t come across as heavy-handed. By the end I was on the verge of tears—and I couldn’t tell if they were happy or sad, which is a first for me.

Holiday House by L.L. Soares: This was a decent offering, about a pair of old sisters who live in a ramshackle estate (think Grey Gardens) that might be haunted, or might conceal other, more frightening entities. I particularly liked the ambiguity at the end.

Lines at a Wake by Steven Withrow: A very short poem that brings about one hell of an eerie vibe using an economy of words.

A Deeper Kind of Cold by K. Allen Wood: This one was interesting. On a space station, a woman frets while the love of her life, who is in a rather odd state, struggles to survive a mysterious sickness. The tone was fantastic, and it asks the question of what it is we actually love about a person. Though the ending was fantastic in its grim earnestness, I couldn’t help but think the setting wasn’t used nearly enough. The metaphor of the emptiness of space as compared to the emotional distance between the woman and her mate just never materialized, which I thought was a missed opportunity. That being said, it’s still a wonderful tale. That ending alone is worth the time it takes to read it.

Alone by P. Gardner Goldsmith: A very creepy and very short story of a man wiling his hours away, isolated in his home, as the world may or may not be ending outside. It had a very Twilight Zone vibe to it, which was cool.

Pandora’s Box by Roxanne Dent: I wasn’t the biggest fan of this story, about a woman who suspects her husband is having an affair and gives into her impulse to follow him. The opening sequence completely gives away the twist at the end. If only that had been cut, it would’ve been a much more enjoyable experience.

Chuck the Magic Man Says I Can by Michael Arruda: This was a really fun and idiosyncratic little tale of two sisters staying at their parents’ friends house while they’re away on vacation, friends who just may hold a secret that only the precocious younger daughter can handle. I really enjoyed it.

Burial Board by T.T. Zuma: Very moody period piece about a man and a burial board that does some rather…strange things. Well written, but for some reason it didn’t feel complete to me.

Windblown Shutter by John Grover: A kid sees his mother murdered and is haunted by the memory and the fact he never saw the killer’s face. I found this to be a fabulous study of the cyclical and never-ending effects of grief and guilt, even if the murder mystery fell a little flat.

Cheryl Takes a Trip by Stephen Dorato: Even though it wasn’t my overall favorite, this story, to me, was perhaps the most inventive of any in this collection. When a woman’s spirit is cast from her body after her mysterious death, she decided to go and do the one thing she’d always wanted to do but had never done—take a trip to Bermuda. It’s really a self-exploration piece, focusing on the way fear can rule our lives, and maybe even our deaths. I thought it was great.

Legend of the Wormley Farms by Philip Roberts: A haunted farm draws a trio of brothers into its sticky, legendary web. It lagged a little in the middle, but in the end I was actually quite shocked. I also thoroughly enjoyed how the author delved into the ways familial pressures and support (or lack thereof) can damage young minds.

The Church of Thunder and Lightning by Peter N. Dudar: An interesting choice to end the anthology, about a reporter and her cameraman on a mission to document the odd rituals of a Jim Jones-type cult. The cost of ambition without regard for human decency was certainly on display, and the function of the cult itself was a truly original creation.

---

And that’s it! Maybe the longest review I’ve ever written, too.

Overall, I have to say I loved this collection. While every story didn’t ring true to me, the vast majority of them did, and most of those that didn’t were still expertly crafted. There are a variety of unique voices, and in a lot of them you can certainly sense the slightly Puritanical undertones that most people who grew up in New England are saddled with. It’s an anthology well worth your time and money, and the authors are worth keeping an eye on.

You can buy the paperback of Epitaphs here:










And the E-book:

Review: Best Laid Plans (Shader Book II) by D.P. Prior

Rating: 5 out of 5

Sequels are a tricky business. I consider it a rarity when books actually get better after a fantastic opening volume. Off the top of my head, I can only think of three series that hold this distinction: King’s The Dark Tower, Dalglish’s Shadowdance Trilogy, and of course the Harry Potter books.

In other words, with Best Laid Plans: Shader Book II, D.P. Prior has joined some pretty select company.

Best Laid Plans picks up the story of the events on Sahul (and in other, more surreal locales) with the characters in dire straits. The undead army of the liche Dr. Cadman has overwhelmed Sarum, the Templum fleet is approaching Sahul, and Deacon Shader, our hero, is, well, dead…none of which will stay true for very long.

To say this book has a busy plot would be an understatement. At my count, there are at least nine storylines going on at once: Deacon’s experience in the afterlife, the struggles of the White Order, the survival of those trapped in Sarum, Cadman’s angst and rise to efforts to retain power, Maldark the dwarf’s guilt over his past, the dreamer Huntsman’s continuing education of Rhiannon’s brother Sammy, Sektis Gandaw’s quest to assemble the statue of Eingana and begin the unweaving, Shadrak’s growing importance to the whole (possibly) preordained events unfolding, Shader’s resurrection and subsequent quest, and Emperor Hagalle’s double-handed dealings. Throw into this mix vast battle sequences, and you have a piece of literature that could very well have become disjointed and confusing in a lesser author’s hands.

Yet Prior is up to the task in this opus, and the narrative he builds is a fascinating one. There is mythology and philosophy, questions as to the nature of reality and time, scathing observations on government and religion, and even a few references to modern-day events and objects that bring this beyond the realm of just a great epic fantasy adventure. All of these tropes and points meld together, creating a work that is exciting while at the same time thought-provoking.

This book questions everything. While there are certainly protagonists and antagonists, these characters are as far from being cardboard cutouts that you can get. Perhaps the greatest achievement is the way Prior allows us, through differing points of view, to see inside the minds of virtually every major character and allows us to develop at least an inkling of empathy for them. Even the despicable Cadman and the perhaps more-despicable Gaston (who performed a virtually unforgivable act in the first book) are given time to show they’re real, flesh-and-blood people with doubts and fears and even remorse. It allows them, the characters, the move the plot forward rather than the plot moving them, which for a work that deals a lot in fate and preordination is a feat in and of itself.

The battle sequences were well thought-out and exciting—much more so than in the first book—and particularly the scenes that take place at sea, while Deacon is attempting to find the albino who stole his pieces of Eingana, are captivating. They’re a mixture of new and old, a melding of science fiction and Tolkien-esque fantasy that is truly original and awe-inspiring in scope. There were very few times where I became confused, and even on those rare occasions all it took was a small step backward to realize that I’d simply missed a sentence or misunderstood the usage of a certain word or phrase.

In conclusion, I can say that Best Laid Plans not only matches Cadman’s Gambit, the first book in the series, but enhances it. This is a book chock full of imagery both beautiful and hideous, with a mixture of genuine comedy in places to break up the despair and tension. It was a beast of a story to read, one I didn’t want to put down. And by the time I reached the cliffhanger ending, I wished more than anything that I had the third book on hand so I could get right to it.

That’s right, folks, D.P. Prior has crafted a wonderful mythology that goes perfectly with his spot-on writing. This is a series that should be savored like a fine scotch, one whose sweetness lingers in your mouth long after you’ve swallowed.

Purchase Best Laid Plans in E-book format from:

Top 15 Books of 2011

Well, I'm a tad bit late to the game here, but better late then never, right?

Once again, I looked over a great deal of outstanding fiction over the past year, and here are my top 15 (well, sort of 16) in ascending order.

(Disclaimer: All of this is according to me, of course. Obviously there are many books I haven't read.)

#15 - Spirit Storm by E.J. Stevens (4.5) - Lighthearted but meaningful, the second book in Stevens's Spirit Guide series came this close to being much higher on the list.

#14 - The Stasis: Powerless book 3 by Jason Letts (4.6) - The best book of the Powerless series, full of despair and dark emotion.

#13 - The Miracle Inspector by Helen Smith (4.7) - A fantastic literary exploration of dystopian Britain. Darkly comedic and unsettling.

#12 - Draculas by Blake Crouch, Joe Konrath, Jeff Strand, and F. Paul Wilson (4.7) - Quite simply, this was hilariously gory fun.

#11 - Anomaly by Thea Atkinson (4.7) - Heartwarming and disturbing at the same time, a fascinating (not to mention revealing) look at addiction and the nature of sexuality.

#10 - Freeze by Daniel Pyle (4.8) - A short, powerful story that left me breathless.

#9 - The Gods of Dream by Daniel Arenson (4.8) - This hallucinatory look at the world of our sleep is meaningful and full of wonderful description.

#8 - The Ryel Saga by Carolyn Kephart (4.9) - A work of epic fantasy that is almost poetic in its prose and pace.

#7 - Jenny Pox by J.L. Bryan (4.9) - In the first book of his Paranormals series, author Bryan creates a work that very much stands up to the likes of Carrie and Weaveworld.

#6 - A Dance of Death and A Dance of Blades by David Dalglish (5.0) - Okay, so I'm cheating a little, but since these two books are the 3rd and 2nd in a trilogy, and are both now available in an omnibus, I figured I'd combine them here. Let's just say that Dalglish's Shadowdance books are so well-written and plotted that he'll have a hard time topping them in the future.

#5 - Dismember by Daniel Pyle (5.0) - A truly compelling journey of horror into the broken mind of a man who only wants his family back.

#4 - Cadman's Gambit (Shader Book I) by D.P. Prior (5.0) - With a compelling mix of science fiction and hard-boiled fantasy, this book captured me from the first sentence and wouldn't let me go.

#3 - The Infection by Craig DiLouie (5.0) - I'm a sucker for zombie fiction, and let's just say that DiLouie's opus is a new take on the end of the world and just about as good as it gets.

#2 - A Sliver of Redemption by David Dalglish (5.0) - Sure, his later series may be tighter and more refined, but as far as emotion goes—and I'm a sucker for emotional threads—Dalglish has never been better than in the final novel of his Half-Orcs series.

And finally...

drumroll

#1 - Burying Brian by Steven Pirie (5.0)

My favorite author over the last 20 years doesn't disappoint with his follow-up to Digging Up Donald. It's a hilarious and poignant journey of one inept man's attempt to save humankind, and heaven, from themselves.

And that's it, folks! Here's to a great 2012, to great books and great writers, so go out there and read!

Review: The Haunted E-Book by J.L. Bryan

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

It’s a great feeling when you come across an idea you haven’t seen before, isn’t it? I mean, we’ve all read stories of haunted houses, haunted cars, even haunted people…but a haunted ebook? I mean, think about it for a second—even the term didn’t exist ten years or so ago.

Which makes the appropriately-titled The Haunted E-Book, written by J.L. Bryan of Jenny Pox fame, the first of its kind. This is a primacy that all writers yearn for but very few achieve.

On to the story.

Dee is a librarian in rural Georgia, a broken woman stuck in a place she doesn’t want to be simply because she wants to be close to the grave of her deceased friend Lilah. She spends her time reading her Kindle while trying to forget the fact her life’s gone nowhere in a hurry. Her loser townie boyfriend treats her like she isn’t there, which in fact reflects Dee’s view of herself. She’s a shell of a woman, a ghost wafting through the real world, hardly ever seen.

Strange things begin happening right away, when she downloads a book titled—yup—The Haunted E-Book. The book takes over her entire library of digital books, even inserting itself into other stories when she tries to read something different.

And this is where things get very, very interesting, because what we have here is a story within a story…within a story. Dee reads about Madison, who’s reading about Parker, who’s reading about Elaine. And in each incarnation, the person they’re reading about is reading a book called the same thing, only with the individual story being different. It sounds confusing, like looking into two mirrors at the same time and seeing the same image projected over and over again into infinity, but in fact, with the way Bryan constructed the story, it’s quite easy to follow.

The book follows the same pattern with every reader—so-and-so begins to be haunted by a mysterious, shadowy figure with letters stamped on his flesh, and who carries an iron composite stick with which he kills his victims. And how do you fall victim to this sadistic ghost?

Why, you stop reading.

Dee is thrust into the lives of the people she reads about, and her life at home falls apart. Then, following a familiar pattern with tales of hauntings, she is sent on a mission to discover the history behind the book, actually meets a few of the characters she’s read about (who turn out to be people just as real as her), and begins a daring chase in hopes of putting an end to the bad guy once and for all. In a way, it’s the story of one woman coming to grips with who she is, realizing her worth to both herself and the ones who loved her. And since this is horror, this epiphany comes when her life hangs precariously by a thread.

While the last third of The Haunted E-Book does follow a familiar pattern, the hows and whys of the plot make it refreshing. The evil presence behind the haunting is sinister in a subversive way, a “man” whose every action is made out of love—or at least his own twisted definition of it. He’s creepy and evocative of horror tales past, and his backstory, yet another book-within-a-book, is fascinating, as is the description of how he comes to haunt the books in the first place.

In all, I can heartily recommend The Haunted E-Book to anyone who enjoys reading an original, inventive horror yarn, complete with dismemberment, terror, and visceral thrills. It’s a hellride, the journey of one woman who wishes to be reborn while experiencing the most dreadful events of her lifetime. It will chew you up and spit you out, and by the time you read the final page, you’ll be left wondering if the words The End are truthful…or if it’s yet another vehicle of malevolence to lull us into a false sense of security.

Purchase The Haunted E-Book in, ahem, ebook format at the following retailers:

Review: Die Already by Kipp Poe Speicher

Rating: 3 out of 5

A while back I read this author's first foray into self-pubbing, and let's just say I didn't like it one bit. However, the writer showed a great amount of class (not to mention professionalism) by not only accepting what I wrote in the review, but presumably using my rather harsh words as a motivational tool to better his work.

So when Speicher contacted me again and asked if I'd take a look at his new offering, I readily agreed.

Die Already is a short story about a man who has a curse - when he's around, nothing ever dies. This curse has followed him since childhood, marking his life until one day the most horrible outcome he could think of happens - and he's left to wonder what he should do about it.

This is as much as I'll get into the plot, because this story is short (@1500 words) and I don't want to give away too much.

As for things I liked about the story, the author has certainly grown since I've read him last. His vision is more vivid, his voice stronger, and his ideas - well, let's just say he's a pretty imaginative chap. Die Already has a plot that could be made into something truly special. It's creative and creepy and atmospheric.

Which brings us to the bad. For as creative as the idea of the story is, it still reads as just that - an idea. It's not fleshed out anywhere near enough to be considered a complete tale. A little more exposition and a lot more fleshing out of characters and situations would do it very well, indeed. As presently constituted, scenes fly by much too quickly for the reader to gain any sort of emotional attachment to the narration, which is a shame. There's a lot of potential here, but as it is it's an overwritten piece of flash, when the idea begs to be so much more than that.

This isn't to say it's horrible. Definitely not. It's good, but just good. I'd love for the author to take this little tale of terror and turn it into a masterful work of fiction. It has that sort of potential, it just hasn't reached that point. Yet.

Available in Ebook format at Amazon.com

Review: The Tree of Life by Elita Daniels

Rating: 1.9 out of 5

The older you get, the faster life moves. Yes, that’s a cliché, but most times clichés have their roots in aspects of the truth. Days and weeks fly by, and before you know it you’re looking at the past saying, “Maybe I should’ve stopped for a minute to appreciate the passage of time.” When I find myself thinking this, and the limited time I have to do what I need to do, I abhor the things around me that waste my time, things that steal from me precious moments with which I could have been doing something different.

Not the best way to start a review, right? I know. But this is the way I started to feel while forcing myself through The Tree of Life by Elita Daniels.

I received this book as a review copy from the author. When reading the sample, it pulled me in because of the impending sense of sorrow and doom presented during the first couple chapters. I happily accepted it, thinking this melancholy suggested an impending expansion and heightening of emotion over the course of the text.

It turns out I was right. Sort of.

This is the story of Deacon, a young man with severe daddy issues. His father was a great and dangerous necromancer who wanted to use his son and wife’s “Riven” blood (According to the tale, Rivens are a people whose connection to magic exists on a level almost like breathing air for everyday folks) to bring about…something. The particulars of his plan were never really explained, other than he wished to overthrow the governing body of magic that was in place at the time. A young Deacon is kidnapped, his mother injured, and then by the end of this opening sequence the father ultimately sacrifices himself (somehow, again not explained) to save his son, and then Deacon’s mother marries an elf, among whom they live until Deacon is older and his mother passes.

From there, we reach the main gist of the plot. Deacon grows up to be a cynical, detached, and miserable young man. He’s haunted by his father’s actions and abandonment, thrown into fits of anger because of the pain the man inflicted on his beloved mother. So after his mother’s death, when he learns his father is somehow still alive, Deacon sets out, against the will of the elves who’ve helped raise him, to learn divining spells, find out where his father now exists, and kill him. He rounds up his cousins, Derek and Cedrik, and embarks on his quest.

Along the way he becomes more and more grumpy, works on refining his magical abilities, meets up with a beautiful dark priestess named Magenta, falls in love with her, and does everything he can to close himself off from everyone who’s close to him. As far as his quest goes, by the end of this much-too-long book, he doesn’t get very far, at all.

And this is perhaps the most maddening thing about the book. It’s long, it’s slow, and absolutely nothing gets resolved. I understand that this is the first book of a proposed series, but there has to be at least some resolution, doesn’t there? But there isn’t any. By the time we reach the final page, Deacon is right where he is when we start up his storyline – alone, awkward, and full of hate. He doesn’t grow as a character at all. He’s completely unlikeable, a winy brat who can’t let go of the past even though he grew up in what amounts to paradise with the elves. Perhaps this is simply a problem with myself. Maybe others will get something out of it I didn’t. Maybe.

The text in this book is dense. Page after page goes by without anything really happening. At times it seems as if the author is simply in love with her ability to turn a phrase, and she packs the text with allegory and explanation, which makes it read even slower. Not only that, but strangely enough the more exciting parts of the book are rushed through, as if the action is an obstacle to be skipped over. Towards the beginning, as Deacon’s mother is being escorted by emissaries of magical law in search of her husband, the group is attacked by an army of the undead. I got excited, especially considering I was still really into the feel of the author’s style at that point, but then…nothing happens. All of a sudden the scene is over, and we’re back to inner angst and an eventual marriage between Deacon’s mother and the elf (who she’s really just met) that helped save her. Huh?

And that’s another problem. Even with the over-abundance of words used, there are so many things that are simply not explained. The most intriguing aspect of the plot – what was Deacon’s father trying to accomplish, who is he, what’s up with the treachery going on inside the walls of their society’s beaurocracy? – are quickly forgotten about. After 10% of the book, they’re never mentioned again and we’re back to Deacon’s brooding and self-hate.

Now, it’s not as if this book was all bad. There are some interesting themes presented, such as the questioning of what makes us human, the soul-encompassing pain and doubt of love, and the duty one feels to a family member, even if said family member doesn’t seem to deserve it. But these finer points become overshadowed by the endlessly droning words. As I said at the before, the beginning is beautifully written, but it never changes. The tone never changes. It’s like being stuck in the mud and not being able to pull yourself out. In a word, irritating.

And there are writing quirks that get in the way, as well. For one, the author is in love with the word “presently”. Presently, so-and-so does this. Presently, another character does this. Presently, a campfire burns. Okay, I get it. It’s happening now. Also, to further illustrate the author simply packing words upon words, there are many instances of redundancy in the text, long passages that are repetitious or contradictory. Here are a few examples:

Unconscious of anything outside each other, they gazed on one another with an intensity that excluded all else.

Or then we have:

Within the gloom, Deacon knew a quiet grove in which he spent long hours of solitude, finding these woods to be the only place sufficiently quiet for him to escape and become entirely absorbed in his study, without fear of interruption.

And then:

She held him there, and there he remained.

See what I mean? And these are the shorter examples.

Now, I’m not one to sit here and blast a book. I know that it takes a lot of dedication to write. But it took just as much effort for me to read it. It took me three weeks to finish this book, and by the final paragraph I couldn’t help but wonder why I stayed with it that long. Perhaps I’m just stubborn. At the end of the day, the reader is not indebted to the author’s effort. If the execution isn’t there, it just isn’t, no matter how much work was put into it.

Maybe I’m in the minority here. Maybe others will read this book and think it brilliant. I’m certainly not the be-all-end-all when it comes to this sort of thing. And the author does show a lot of potential. She has a definite grasp of emotional weight and can craft some intriguing characters. If she only refined it, used her words at a premium, then she’d have something I’d willingly dive into again.

Until then, I can’t justify devoting any more time to it than I already have.

Plot - 5

Characters - 6

Voice - 4

Execution - 2

Personal Enjoyment – 2

Overall – 19/50 (1.9/5)

Purchase The Tree of Life in paperback or for the Amazon Kindle.

Review: Roman Hell by Mark Mellon

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

I receive some quirky books for review, works that don’t necessarily fit into any genre. Some are good, some are bad, some are just, well, strange. And some are this close to brilliant.

Which is where Roman Hell by Mark Mellon fits in.

Roman Hell is the story of Martial, a poet in first-century Rome. He’s a bit down on his luck until he gets an unusual offer from Titus, the acting Caesar. He is asked to spy on the intellectual circles he frequents, to see if there are whispered plots against his rule. For this, he will be paid handsomely.

Martial accepts the offer and along with an old-time legionary named Stilo sets about seeking information. During a chance encounter at a brothel, he spots Titus’ brother, Domitian, hurriedly leaving. He follows, only to find out that Domitian has been in cahoots with Canidia and Sagana, a pair of witches. Much clandestine spying ensues, with Martial and Stilo eventually learning that Domitian has arranged for his brother’s death so he will be granted the title of Princeps (Caesar).

Titus is eventually killed through magical means, Domitian takes over, double crosses Canidia, and is henceforth cursed to know the day his rule (and his life) ends. Martial, being a come-upper who latches on to those who may give him a better life (that being the new Caesar), is likewise cursed.

From there, the story jumps fifteen years into the future, chronicling how Domitian and Martial deal with the knowledge (or supposition – there are many instances, especially in Martial’s case, where he considers himself “superstitious” to believe in such nonsense as curses and magic) of their eventual fate. I won’t go into much more than that, because to do so would be to take away some of the best aspects of the storytelling, which include just how demented Domitian and Martial’s thought processes can be.

For the most part, the characters in this tale are fantastic. The only problem is that there are a lot of them.

Martial is one of the most original I’ve read in a long time, the obvious “hero” of the piece, yet so un-heroic that he become a caricature – or, more pertinent, a living metaphor for the pursuit of comfort. He wants nothing more than to have an easy life and be appreciated for his talents, two aspects that have been denied him. He is a moral man by the standards of the day (he can see, and his inner monologue often derides, the debauchery that goes on around him), and yet he gladly turns the other way when he sees behavior that is, ahem, objectionable.

Domitian is fantastically fleshed out, as well. His transformation from lazy, freeloading brother to paranoid leader is beautiful to see. It makes sense and is consistent with his mental framework that he would seek outside providence from magical beings in order to obtain his goal. He is, as I said, lazy…at least early on. But once he becomes Caesar, and his thirst for power grows, no one puts forth more effort when it comes to trying to steer public affection his way.

However, one character completely steals the show, and that’s Stilo, Martial’s legionary bodyguard. He’s an archetypal tough guy, from his scarred visage to his love of violence, and yet he differs in his poetic (and often hilarious) manner of speech. Unfortunately he disappears a little over halfway through the book (you’ll have to read it to find out why – it’s a fantastic and unexpected development), and in a way the second half falters the slightest bit without him.

Author Mellon did something very interesting with this novel. He uses real events and real historical figures as a skeleton and lets his imagination become the muscle and flesh. This works wonderfully, and drives the story to its inevitable end with pomp and vigor. Luckily for Mellon, I’m pretty sure not too many folks know the history of Domitian’s rule, because in that way the final outcome is a bit of a mystery. That being said, even if one who’s well versed in Roman history were to read this, they’d still come away with something fresh and surprising, for the author does a more than decent job of throwing you right smack in the middle of the first century and bending events to fit his vision. The language is there, the sights are there, and ancient Rome comes alive.

In fact, this is done so well that it can be somewhat of a drawback. I said at the beginning of this review that it’s this close to brilliance, and the reason I say this is because as a book, Roman Hell is almost too smart for its own good. Mellon is obviously a very talented writer and knows his history, but the proliferation of ancient terms, names, and locations can make for confusing reading for those who aren’t familiar with such language. Even this reviewer was a bit thrown off. Add to this the fact that the text is dense, and it becomes easy to lose one’s place.

Nevertheless, you shouldn’t be discouraged by this, for if the reader simply trudges their way through to the other side, there is something wonderful to be had. Roman Hell is an intense gender-bender – part horror, part fantasy, part comedy, all historical – that snatches your eye and holds you in place with its almost lyrical prose. It says something quite profound about the societies of old and their likes, fetishes, and tendencies, as well, presenting us with a vision of old Rome without the charm of time and distance. For myself, I had no choice but imagine what my life would be like in the rancid armpit of that ancient city, struggling to simply survive and taking pleasure from the intense suffering of others. That, in and of itself, is an accomplishment.

On the whole, I think Roman Hell is a truly original and enjoyable book. It may take a bit of work to get into, but once you do, you won’t be able to look at the culture of Ancient Rome the same way ever again. And by the last melancholy scene, you’ll ask yourself the most philosophical of questions: what good have I done in my life, anyway?

I know I did.

Plot - 9

Characters - 9

Voice - 10

Execution - 8

Personal Enjoyment – 9

Overall – 45/50 (4.5/5)

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Video Review: Amanda Hocking's "Hollowland"

This is a JOA first, and a bit of an experiment at that. I took the review I wrote of Hollowland by Amanda Hocking, pared it down a bit, added images in imovie, and dubbed over it. It's not perfect, and there are some definite changes I'll make in the future (such as making them shorter), but I'm pretty happy with the way this turned out.

Enjoy.

On youtube - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9sJn-6KGxe8

Review: The Venom of Vipers by K.C. May

Rating: 4.6 out of 5

Science fiction many times comes down to en exploration of what it means to be human. When done well, it serves as an organic metaphor, breaking down the societal systems we exist within and revealing, through conflict, the best and worst of us. Sometimes it shows how far we’ve fallen, how our creations have ended up stealing a bit of our souls, bringing us to the brink of becoming slaves to that which we’ve created or, worst of all, regressing into a form of pre-humanity that is both untrustworthy and violent. In other instances, these works allow humanity to rise above, to demonstrate the goodness and ingenuity we all know is possible. And then, we have those works of literature that accomplishes both. It takes a talented author to break through this final barrier, to approach their concepts with an innate balance that shows good and bad, hurtful and helpful, and brings us out on the other side with at least a modicum of hope.

With The Venom of Vipers, K.C. May has proven herself to be in that rare class.

This is the story of humanity on the brink of extinction. A terrible new plague has gripped the globe, called moliomyositis (or molio for short). It is a disease for which there is no cure, and science has, in a way, resigned itself to the possibility that humans will cease to exist over the span of only a few short decades. To combat this, they have created a new human subspecies by splicing human and reptilian DNA. The resulting life-forms, dubbed Saphers, are immune to the virus, but they offer no magical solution to the outbreak. One might ask, if there is no help to be found from them, why did we create them in the first place and why are we keeping them alive? The answer to this I found most interesting, and philosophically poignant: to bring about a species that will carry on after we’re gone, to have the memory of our existence, our legacy, live on through them and, just maybe, they’ll progress enough to bring humanity – regular humanity – back some day.

There is one problem with this theory, however. The Saphers can’t breed on their own. When they try, the females’ bodies reject the fetus before seven weeks is up. For a genus designed to carry on our legacy, this is obviously a huge problem.

Enter Katie Marsh, the daughter of the man behind the creation of the Saphers. As the story opens, she is returning to the center she grew up in. She is now a reproductive scientist, and she’s been added to the team in hopes of finding a solution to the Sapher reproduction “problem”. Her presence inside the facility is a tension builder in and of itself, for Saphers aren’t considered viable people by the government, and she’s had a lifelong relationship with one of them – albeit (mostly) plutonic. The character in question is a hotheaded yet supremely bright and protective Sapher male named Ryder Storm. (Ignore the soap opera name. It might be clunky at first, but after a while it grows on you.) Their relationship, revealed expertly through tiny bits of flashback and simple character interaction, drive the story. This is a pair you can root for, even if Katie doesn’t seem to realize at first how much they mean to each other.

There are so many conflicting plot points in this book. You have the disease wiping out the globe. You have the issue of failed reproduction. Yet even greater than that are the conflicts that occur outside the written word – we’re told about them, but don’t necessarily see examples until the very end. There are two warring factions fighting over the imprisoned Saphers. One is the Freedom for All Peoples, an organization much like PETA, who wants science to stop experimenting on the poor saphers and grant them human rights. The other is the Human Purification Initiative, a bunch of nearsighted bastards who want nothing more than to see these “perversions of science” wiped off the face of the earth. The opposing groups are examples of extremism. The fact is, both sides have a point, but they’re too obsessive to look at what’s going on around them with any sort of clarity. There needs to be a balance in all ideas, and May does a fantastic job of showing how unbalanced – and henceforth unstable – these people are.

Add to this a plot point where some of the guards at the center, who themselves have fallen to be less than human, scheme behind the scenes and pull off some rather perverse (actually, downright evil) acts, and you have a story so rife with drama and conflict that you want to hurry up and get to the next page, just to see if any of it gets resolved.

This book is such a satisfying read. It was emotional at times – especially when it comes to Ryder and his daughter – and the way author May delves deep into the subjects of sensuality, doubt, and survival instinct are fantastic. The characters – especially Katie and the chief guard, Nelson – are wonderfully fleshed out and believable. Ryder, who is a man of thirty who’s never been outside the walls of the foundation he grew up in and desires the freedom that’s been preached to him but never delivered, is successfully not presented as a cartoonish good guy. The way the author inserts snippets of morose metaphysical ponderings in to the text (Does humanity deserve to be saved? Do we have the right to play God? Are we fooling ourselves to think we’ve risen above our most base animal instincts?) is fantastic. I found myself wondering much the same things as I was reading, and I realized that the Saphers, themselves, were almost mirror for the people who cared for them. They feel the pain of losing a child, while their human captors treat them as just another failed experiment. To the guards, they’re annoyances and sexual playthings, while they experience every moment of hurt and torment levied upon them.

Humanity is the monster, and humanity’s creation is more human than we are. It’s a common thread in science fiction, and here it’s done beautifully.

I had only a couple problems with this book, and they’re small, at that. One was the dialogue. At the beginning, it’s stilted, as if the author couldn’t get a grasp on a free-flowing conversation. This ends after a very short time, however, and doesn’t miss a beat again for the rest of the book. The other is the (SPOILER ALERT) solution to the reproduction problem. It comes about by the end, but I didn’t understand the explanation for how it was accomplished. This may simply be my own problem, however, so I won’t let it hurt the rating much at all, and it shouldn’t effect anyone’s enjoyment of the story.

In all, I had a very, very good time with The Venom of Vipers. It’s a poignant and fast-paced melding of science fiction, drama, and mystery. KC May solidifies herself as a writer to look out for in the future. She has something to say, she’s not afraid to say it, and she’s damn good at telling her story.

I highly, highly recommend it.

Plot - 9

Characters - 10

Voice - 9

Execution - 8

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 46/50 (4.6/5)

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Review: Lessons by Michael Crane

Rating: 5 out of 5

When you have a collection of twenty-five stories, and they're all exactly one hundred words long, it's not really practical to give a full five-part breakdown of them. Mainly because, if a story is that short, it either grabs you or it doesn't. There's really no other way to judge them.

Lessons by Michael Crane is a wonderfully campy, disgusting, funny, and ironic collection of the aforementioned 100-word "drabbles". They snag you by the title and by the time you reach the last sentence, you excitedly turn to the next page, where even more snippets of horror goodness awaits you.

Every...single...one...of these short tales are fantastic. Some rise above others - such as the hilarious Grim, the darkly ominous Spoiled, the masterfully ironic Haunted, and finally the masterful and creepy slice-of-regret Simple, which might well be the best piece of microfiction I've ever read. But all of them are fantastic. There is not a lacking tale to be found.

This is a great - and brisk - little collection, folks. It's well worth the dollar you'll spend on it. I highly recommend it to any lover of horror out there. They'll grab you by the throat, shake you around a bit, and then spit you out wanting more.

Good times. Seriously.

Purchase Lessons by clicking the link below:

Review: The Shadows of Grace by David Dalglish

Rating: 4.7 out of 5

Would you sacrifice your child for the world?

Questions. Life, many times, comes down to having the strength to ask oneself the correct ones, leaving the answers almost secondary. In literature, we judge characters, especially those who’ve fallen from grace, by their actions. And yet those actions are often a direct reflection of not having the intestinal fortitude to look past the shiny veneer of their unfortunate circumstances and ask, “Is what has happened to me my own fault?” A great example of this would be Humbert Humbert from Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. He is a character who is obsessed with an underage girl, and throughout the novel he questions not what depravity lies within himself that causes him to fall for (and run off with) this “nymphette”, but the societal pressures and breakdowns that force him to do so. He hates his life and his actions yet takes no action to remedy – or understand – them. In the end, he dies the same way he lived – ignorant and afraid of asking the right questions.

In The Shadows of Grace, the fourth book in David Dalglish’s fantastic and captivating Half-Orc series, the questions come to the forefront. No longer are the brothers and heart of the story, Harruq and Qurrah, slogging through life letting events guide their actions. They make choices, they contemplate their place in the world. Qurrah, for his part, finally begins asking questions of himself – only he’s not asking the right ones. The line at the beginning of this review is his. However, he has it all wrong. For any parent, for any being living in any form of society, the real question should be “Would I sacrifice myself for my child?” However, the simple fact that he asks that question shows a change in his character. He’s learning, pondering his station in life and looking inward rather than reacting to the horrors that have always surrounded him, for the first time.

Harruq is on a different path. He’s asking the right questions for someone in his situation. He’s led his people, folks he’s learned to love and appreciate, to safety. And yet he fights the inner battle of regret. He had a chance to kill his brother in the past and couldn’t do it. Should he have? Is the price of his love for his brother worth the thousands who’ve died by his hand, not the least of which being his own beloved daughter? Is Qurrah worthy of forgiveness for his sins? Does that even matter?

The answer to this is complicated. It’s both a resounding NO and a heartfelt YES! The brothers are a metaphor for choice and faith in one’s abilities. They are a fable of sorts. Think of two inner-city siblings, raised in a culture of violence and fear. One overcomes his upbringing, goes off to school, and becomes a productive and admirable member of society. The other takes the easy way out. He falls prey to the corruption that surrounds him, joins gangs, lives a life of aggression and brutality. The first example we put on a pedestal, idolizing for his ability to rise above. The latter is vilified, looked at as a lost cause and written off. Should he be? If we are able to commend the successful brother for overcoming the trials and tribulations of a rough childhood, shouldn’t we also feel pity for those who aren’t able to triumph? Shouldn’t we try to place ourselves in his situation and ask, “If that were me, would I have the strength to be the better man?” Most times, we don’t. Just look at the headlines of any local newspaper if you require proof of this. Are they worthy of redemption? Some would say no. But they are. It’s hard to look at the horrors they’ve committed and see a soul worth saving. It is the great among us, those with an almost mystical amount of compassion, who have the ability to forgive. Not forget, forgive. And in this particular book, it is Harruq who encapsulates this. He has no reason to forgive his brother. Qurrah has given him nothing but pain. And yet he does. He sees through the veneer of hatred and revenge and bestows upon his brother the greatest gift he can – a clean slate. It’s a beautiful occurrence, and the scene at the end of the book where this happens is a stunning piece of writing.

The Shadows of Grace is a very, very deep book. Besides the aforementioned plotlines involving Harruq and Qurrah’s path to redemption, there is political intrigue, huge battles, and emotional threads that run throughout most every word on the page. We are reunited with old friends, watch some of these friends give up their lives for the greater good, and are given a fresh perspective on matters of faith and self-sacrifice. Harruq and the Eschaton, along with King Antonil, lead the survivors from Velderan into the city of Mordeina, where they find peace and rest after heading off to warn neighboring towns of the approaching armies of orc and undead. Ultimately, truces are made between warring factions and battles are fought. Long-held prejudices are put aside. Before too long, we end up back in Mordeina, where a siege of the great city is under way. The war demons brought through the portal held open by Qurrah and Velixar are ready to exterminate all life. This scene, in particular, is written spectacularly. It delves even further into Harruq’s growing sense of honor and grace (there’s that word again) and the violence that follows his epiphany on the state of his life and faith is almost a foregone conclusion…though there is a particularly unexpected occurrence that helps swing the almost impossible odds against our heroes back in their favor. I won’t discuss it much, because it’s a bit of a spoiler, but I will say that some might find it to be a deus ex machina. It’s not. If you sit back and think about the plot, of where Dalglish is taking this tale, it makes perfect sense.

These points are interesting, but this book really finds its legs in the aforesaid growth of Harruq and Qurrah and the overall message I think the author has presented to us. And it is this message, the parable that the storyline of all the books have combined to now reveal, that is the most wonderful aspect of all.

What we have here is an allegory – or a critique, if you will – of Christianity. It’s brilliant, and I never thought of it, never noticed the events occurring could be discerned in this way before. There are three factions at odds with each other, in the form of the gods the author has created: Karak, Ashhur and Celestia. Karak is the personification of the Old Testament; demanding of obedience and order, self-sacrifice, and complete devotion. Ashhur reflects the New Testament; he demands only love and forgiveness, and all who worship him hold the promise that they will one day be blessed by a lifetime in the golden afterlife. Celestia is the universe itself, a deity devoted to balance. She refuses to let the scales tip too far in one direction or the other – in other words, cause and effect, or every action has an equal or opposite reaction. The three of them combine to form its own holy trinity of sorts, the three-become-one. I might think that if all the particulars sat down and thought about it for a second, they might find that they’ve been fighting the wrong war all along.

Just like the gods, the major characters have biblical counterparts. Qurrah is Abraham, the man asked to forgo everything, even his beloved child, for the sake of a God that seems outwardly cruel and remorseless. His faith is constantly tested, and just as often as not, he fails those tests. Harruq is Saint Peter, the loyal ruffian who denied Jesus yet, in the end, was the one charged with bringing His church to the people. And Tessanna, Qurrah’s lover, is paganism made flesh, all blood magic, sacred runes, and without a singular frame of reference to base her sanity upon. They form their own trinity, as well, and I have no doubt that, come the fifth and final book, it will be the interplay between these six differing yet similar characters that will form the crux of both the outcome and its message.

This was a fantastic book. It was my favorite of the author’s, actually, until the last fifty or so pages. There, I had two issues. One is with a character that emerges toward that point, a great servant of Karak named Melorak. The way he came into being seemed…convoluted somehow. It was hard for me to relate to or care about him. Secondly, after the battle of Mordeina, Dalglish seemed to rush the proceedings, as if he couldn’t wait to get to the final confrontation. I can’t blame him, as that concluding scene is beautifully written, possibly the greatest of the entire series, full of both sorrow and a morose sort of joy. If I’m being honest, it didn’t really bother me – the story is too good to be thrown off by something such as this – but still feel I must mention it, and it did prevent me from placing this tome ahead of its only emotional equal, The Cost of Betrayal.

That being said, this is a special story. All of the threads Dalglish has created are coming to a head. There is a battle brewing in the future, and the soul of everyone in Neldar is at stake. Come take the journey, get lost in it. Cry with the characters, feel their joy and pain, let them into your heart.

You’ll be glad you did. Trust me on this.

Plot - 10

Characters - 8

Voice - 10

Execution - 9

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 47/50 (4.7/5)

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