Review: A Gnome Problem by Michael Crane

Rating: 3.3 out of 5

Michael Crane is an author with a wicked sense of humor. Just from reading his drabble collections (Lessons and Lessons II), you can easily see his sarcastic wit and ability to transform threatening, potentially harmful situations into a form of dark comedy. He’s gifted in turning a phrase and uses an economy of words to get his point across. In short, I think he’s brilliant.

When I purchased A Gnome Problem, his novelette, I expected much of the same, only in a wider format. And I wasn’t disappointed in that. The story follows the adventures of Pat, a pathetic down-and-outer, after he receives a panicked phone call from his buddy Spencer, who goes on to explain that he’s being tormented by gnomes. Garden gnomes. See? Already it’s hilarious.

Pat heads out to Spencer’s house, confronts his friend, thinks he’s just nuts, and then, when he discovers there really are gnomes attacking his friend, goes about trying to solve the problem.

That’s as much as I’ll give you for plot, since this is a short piece and revealing any more would be tantamount to full disclosure. And the story does work. It made me laugh multiple times, especially when Pat starts getting irritated when no one involved will listen to his advice.

And yet this is where I ran into problems with the tale. Pat, as a character, is a bit flat. Yes he’s funny, yes his quips are delivered with aplomb…but there doesn’t seem to be anything beyond that. The running plot about his girlfriend leaving him did nothing for me, and I couldn’t help but think that if the story had been written in third person instead of first, it might have come off much, much better. As it is, he’s an unreliable narrator in a tale that needs a reliable one.

Also, the ending really rubbed me the wrong way. When it finished I said, ”What…really?” Not that the conclusion is bad by any means. It isn’t. But it felt unsatisfying, as if the author had too many ideas in his head and couldn’t figure out how to use them all, so he used the simplest version he could think of. Not to be cruel, but that’s what the end felt like. A cop-out. There were so many different places the author could’ve taken it in either direction, darker or more hilarious. It demanded to be expanded upon, to be more fleshed out. But alas, it didn’t happen.

Now, of course, I can in no way state that this is a bad story. It’s not at all. I did genuinely enjoy myself, just not as much as I thought I should. Crane has oodles of ability, and I really enjoy reading his prose. If anything, the poor rating has more to do with my high opinion of his talent, with my expectation for what he produces, than anything. And I simply don’t think this tale stood as tall as it could have…ne, should have.

That being said, I would still recommend this novelette and not feel the slightest bit bad about doing so. You’ll end up laughing and cringing more than once, and by the end, I think you’ll want more more more. Because if A Gnome Problem does nothing else, it serves to demonstrate how well Crane can tell a story. He most certainly has the potential to be great. If you’re like me, you’re rooting for his next offering to fully deliver on that potential.

Plot - 8

Characters - 5

Voice - 9

Execution - 5

Personal Enjoyment – 6

Overall – 33/50 (3.3/5)

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Review: A Dance of Blades by David Dalglish

Rating: 5 out of 5

Sequels are tough business, especially when the first book of a series is extremely well written. There’s a ton of pressure to put out something equally as good, and there’s a good chance readers could walk away disappointed because the author wasn’t up to the challenge.

After reading A Dance of Blades by David Dalglish, the sequel to last year’s A Dance of Cloaks, I can tell you with all certainty that this particular writer accomplished just what he set out to do.

Blades starts out five years after the end of Cloaks. Early on we find Aaron Felhorn, the son of Spider Guild leader Thren who now calls himself only Haern, living on the streets and waging his own personal war of attrition against the thief guilds of Velderan. Gone is that sliver of innocence that Haern tried so hard to hold onto in the first book, replaced by an undying need for vengeance against the man who sullied his life. And when I say need, what I really mean is obsession, because that’s truly what it is. Haern hates his father and all those like him so much that he cannot help but paint every thief he runs across with the same blood-drenched brush.

As for those thief guilds and their never-ending battle with the Trifect, the powers-that-be in the land, all is not going so well. It seemed the aftereffects of the Bloody Kensgold, where Thren tried to wrest power away from the businessmen, has left all parties worse for wear. The guilds are in shambles, shamelessly murdering and stealing from any they wish, while the Trifect, themselves, are struggling. Alyssa Gemcroft, now the leader of the Gemcroft estate after the assassination of her father, is particularly stressed. She’s sent her son Nathanial to the north for protection while she constantly wards herself from poisoned food and the fortune her family has lost to the thieves that surround them at all times.

The thing she most needs, at least according to her advisors, is a husband. She eventually acquiesces after Nathanial is killed, apparently by the Watcher (Haern), which introduces us to the main villain of the piece, Arthur Hadfield.

Hadfield is a very strange baddie, at least when it comes to Dalglish’s work. He’s in no way supernatural, he has no otherworldly power or strength, and isn’t the face of some great and secret organization. All he is, is an opportunistic scoundrel who wants nothing but more power. That might make him the weakest of Dalglish’s villains to some, but to me, he’s the best because he’s so real. Arthur’s like a crooked politician with no moral compass, and he attracts like-minded men to his side, such as his right-hand-man Oric. Let’s just say I hated both these characters with a passion, their deeds and thoughts (or lack thereof), and that made me love them…if that makes any sense.

As for Alyssa, she’s come a long way from where we saw her in the first book. She’s a strong woman now, leading her people and doing just what leaders are supposed to do – making the tough decisions, even if they turn out to be wrong. After she discovers her son has been killed, she takes it upon herself to personally dispatch every criminal in the entire city, and hires countless mercenaries to carry out her request. What follows are a series of hellish nights as the streets of Velderan are filled with blood.

Let me say this right now – Alyssa Gemcroft very well may be the most brilliant character Dalglish has ever created…and I don’t say that lightly. She bucks trends and stereotypes and displays power and weakness in equal measure. Throughout the entire book, there is never once a mention of her beauty – it’s simply assumed that she is. As a character she is so well conceived that she almost overshadows the other particulars in this tale of deceit, violence, and woe.

Almost, but not quite.

There are characters aplenty to care about in this novel, just as in the first. We get to see the coming to power of Deathmask (who appeared in the last couple Half-Orc books), and he gobbles up every scene he appears in. We are also reacquainted with Veliana, the lady-behind-the-curtain of the Ash Guild, and Zusa, the mysterious, cloth-wrapped woman who assists both Alyssa and Vel from her place in the shadows (yet two more imminently strong female characters…I have a feeling Dalglish is trying to get to something about women banding together being more powerful than any force in the universe). Also, as readers we get to meet the Eschaton once more, Tarlak and Delysia and Brug, along with Senke, Haern’s former mentor. For those who’ve followed this author’s work, it’s a wonderful homecoming of sorts; to those who haven’t they are introduced to some pretty entertaining personalities that have been sorely missed.

But of course, with all this being said, A Dance of Blades is Haern’s show, and he doesn’t disappoint. We get to see him evolve as a person throughout the length of the novel, from angry outcast to bitter vigilante to, finally, an accepting adult who comes to understand his role in the world. I think, during parts of the book, I forgot a very important part of Haern’s makeup – he’s still a child. He’s at most eighteen years old, and as a father of a son near that age, I can honestly say that none of them have anything figured out. Life is a big, confusing, sometimes hellacious ball of experience, and it takes time to come to grips with that…especially without an elder guide, which is why I found Haern’s progress as an individual to be so profound. Though he does develop friendships by the end, most every decision he makes, he makes on his own, with very little input from others. This shows the strength of character we see when he appears in Dalglish’s earlier novels, and also demonstrates just how capable of righteousness in the face of cruelty he can be.

As the second book in a series, A Dance of Blades loses some of the innocence from the first installment, as I mentioned earlier. However, it more than makes up for that with the amount of brutality and self-sacrifice that is demonstrated within. The three-night battle between the mercenaries and thief guilds is atrocious, and there is very little care for who’s guilty or innocent. There is also one particular scene that turned my stomach, as a kind family is cruelly assaulted by Oric and some more of Arthur Hadfield’s men. Though Dalglish handles the visuals and presentation respectfully, we still get to witness the horror of these actions, and imagine the repercussions for the victims. So when you add all this in together with Haern’s mad fixation on killing every thief he can get his hands on, I guess you can say that this is a book about the loss of innocence…or a fall from grace, if you will.

Which is important in any work of fiction, because of course you have to fall before you can get back up.

In all, A Dance of Blades is a more than worthy compliment to its predecessor. In most ways it even surpasses the first book, which I didn’t think possible. It’s a novel full of treachery, disturbing images, underhanded dealings, war, and desperation, but it also shows the reader how, even in these trying times, there is still a capacity for love and friendship in the world. It says we don’t have to be alone, even if we’ve become monsters to ourselves, because no one worth a salt is ever beyond redemption.

With that, I can honestly say that this is the second-best book Dalglish has ever written, just a fraction of a percentage point behind A Sliver of Redemption. Who knows, perhaps when the final book of the Shadowdance trilogy comes out next winter, he might outshine himself again.

Knowing this author’s work the way I do, I wouldn’t put it past him in the slightest.

Plot - 10

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 10

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 50/50 (5.0/5)

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Review: Freeze by Daniel Pyle

Rating: 4.8 out of 5

I usually start out these reviews with a bit of exposition about select themes I find within a given book, but this time I’d like to focus on something that is, in itself, a part of writing.

Voice.

Some writers know theirs. Some don’t. With the best authors, you know who they are from the moment you read the first sentence. It’s a comforting, and important, trait to have. King has it. Robbins has it. Layman and Lovecraft had it. Hemingway had it in spades, as did Fitzgerald.

And so does Daniel Pyle.

From the second I picked up Freeze, this author’s new novella, I was immediately sucked in. I felt the same exact way I did when I opened Down the Drain and Dismember, previous works by Pyle – like I was about to be taken on one massive, wildly-swinging ride of terror. Needless to say, I wasn’t disappointed.

Freeze is the story of Warren and Tess, an older couple living high in the mountains with their dog during the snowstorm of the century. There are strange goings-on about the house after the power goes out, adding to the feeling that this isn’t your garden-variety blizzard. A window breaks, showering Tess with glass. There are strange sounds outside. The family car has been seemingly vandalized. And all the while the cold and isolation creep in on this tight little family, until finally, after an emergency, Warren is forced to try and brave his way down the mountain in search of help. Little does he know, there are strange beings waiting for him out in the frigid wilderness, creatures that would love nothing more than to tear him apart.

The plot is very basic – couple trapped, flees from monsters, fights monsters, encounter terrors they never thought imaginable. However, it’s the way the story is constructed – the voice I spoke of earlier – that makes this such an entertaining and unrelenting read.

Pyle does something very interesting here, and it’s a way of constructing a story that I appreciated to no end. He makes the setting, the weather, the storm and cold, as important a character as Tess, Warren, Bub, or the strange creatures outside. I read this book outside, sitting in ninety-degree heat, and on more than one occasion I found myself shivering. That, my friends, takes copious amounts of talent. The seclusion of Pyle’s words wraps around you, the wind blows inside your ears, and you can’t help but empathize with what these poor characters are going through. In effect, we are placed directly in their shoes, made to feel their fear, anger, and desperation.

In many ways, this book reads like an episode of The Twilight Zone with a little Tales from the Darkside mixed in for good measure. Nothing is explained, the ending is open to the reader’s imagination. All we’re left with are the sensations involved. It’s like being plunked in the middle of a nightmare scenario and forced to fend for ourselves, which is refreshing, and also common with Pyle. Just as in Down the Drain, there isn’t page after page of details about the nature of the monsters. They’re there, they’re frightening, and that’s all you need to know. Is that enough? It damn well should be.

There is only one aspect of the writing that I didn’t like, and it’s the single issue keeping it from receiving a perfect score. On more than one occasion, the internal dialogue of the characters’ seemed to be too much for the given situation. There were a couple examples of ill-timed, ironic thoughts that I, personally, don’t think would go through the mind of someone experiencing that kind of terror. It slowed the momentum for me a bit when this occurred, but thankfully this only happened a few times, five at most. I can forgive an author for trying too hard sometimes, and that’s what those little snippets felt like to me. And it could also just have been my mood at the time, so my point dockage is very small.

In conclusion, Freeze is a gem of a short novel that will leave you panting by the end. It’s the perfect creature feature, hitting all the right emotional notes, making you care, cringe, and rattle your teeth at the same time. And once you finish, you’ll never be able to hear a scratch at your window on a cold winter night and pass it off as nothing again. There will always be that nibble of panic in the back of your mind that says, but what if…

Which is the type of effect that all horror – hell, all fiction – should aim to accomplish.

So congrats to Daniel Pyle, because he’s created something wonderful.

Plot - 10

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 8

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 48/50 (4.8/5)

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Review: Night of Wolves by David Dalglish

Rating: 4.6 out of 5

What does friendship mean?

Is it sticking up for your cohorts in time of need? Is it putting aside differences and trying to find a common ground? Is it a solemn smile or a firm slap across the face when the other starts to stray? Is it setting aside your own fears and convictions, even though everything about you says to get away, because deep down you just trust this person, for better or worse?

These are the questions David Dalglish asks in Night of Wolves, the first book in his new Paladins series.

With this series, it seems Dalglish is going down a Memento path when it comes to his characters’ stories – aka going backward. This particular book is the tale of Jerico, the paladin of Ashhur we first met (and fell in love with) in The Death of Promises. Wolves takes a few years before the events in the Half-Orc series, and introduces a major plot point that those who’ve digested Dalglish’s work might find unbelievable.

A friendship between paladins of the two polar gods, Ashhur and Karak.

Jerico, it seems, has befriended a young man named Darius while both are stationed in the farming town of Durham, preaching the messages of their particular religions. Theirs is a relationship built upon mutual respect – they learn from each other, protect each other, help each other grow…the gods be damned. And when the wolf-men from the Vile Wedge start crossing the river, threatening the lives of the townsfolk, they must work together even more so than before, which causes just a few moral dilemmas within each of them. But work together they do, because they both realize that without their combined strength, the good men and women of Durham don’t stand a chance.

There are interesting threads all around in this book, such as a new leader rising to lead the pack of wolf-men: Redclaw, a powerful foe with the desire to pull a Moses, bringing his people out of the dead landscape of the Wedge to enter the lush, bountiful forests that lie just out of their reach. There is also the fall of the Citadel, which occurs from afar, the repercussions of which are hinted at, and are haunting. Finally, there is the concluding battle, as the wolf-men gather together and assault the human forces in what is a greatly realized battle sequence.

But none of these threads can compare with Jerico and Darius. They steal the show, and as often happens in Dalglish’s novels, their quiet scenes together are magical. These are two men who grow to love each other over the course of the book, and that brotherly bond is something beautiful to behold. As usual, the author’s asking a philosophical question that not many others do – in this case, can we ever shove the veil of faith out of the way and see our brothers and sisters for what they truly are: fellow human beings, just as deserving of love as any other.

There are many surprisingly tender moments to be seen, and these aspects are what I appreciate the most. On the bad side, some of the battle scenes early on are ho-hum, to the point where I had to fight the desire to skim and turn the page, saying, “Just give me more Jerico and Darius, dammit!” However, I can’t decide if that’s because they really are subpar, or if it’s because the interplay between those two characters is so brilliantly done that everything else seems unimportant. No matter, though, because as I said, Dalglish pulls it out in the end, and the attack (and defense) of Durham is truly a sight to behold, equaling (though not surpassing) those more tender moments

Reading Night of Wolves is a fantastic experience. It’s short and to the point, filled with just about everything I love about the author’s work. It’s dark yet filled with hope, brutal yet compassionate. The words he weaves captivates, pulling us in and making us care about these people. The story is chock-full of metaphor, of the questions of what moral belief is correct, if there’s a correct one at all. This is one point I’m not going to harp on in this review, however, for I’m sure I’ll have plenty of things to say on that very subject when the next book comes out in a couple months.

Once again, I fully recommend Night of Wolves. You’ll enjoy seeing friends and enemies, old and new, and be intrigued by just how the ungodly mess Jerico and Darius have gotten into will resolve itself. It’s an oddity: an edge-of-your-seat fantasy thrill ride and quiet literary piece all rolled into one.

You’d be hard pressed to come up with a better read.

Plot - 9

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 8

Personal Enjoyment – 9

Overall – 46/50 (4.6/5)

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Review: Anomaly by Thea Atkinson

Rating: 4.7 out of 5

When I received Anomaly by Thea Atkinson as a review copy, I set it aside, pretty much uninterested. I accepted it because the sample was well written, but I was deep into a new fascination with fantasy and other genre fiction at that time, and thought to myself, I don’t really like literary fiction, so this one can wait a while…let me enjoy myself first.

Well, recently I glanced at my to-be-read pile, saw that book still sitting there, and decided it had waited long enough. And when I started reading, all I could think was that I should’ve gotten around to it sooner. It surprised me in so many ways.

Anomaly is the story of J, a ne’er-do-well transgender/recovering drug addict living in rural Nova Scotia. This book doesn’t have so much of a plot in the traditional sense; it’s more an exploration of what it means to be J, taking place during a few tough, stressful, and let’s face it, downright depressing days out of his/her life. No, existence is not easy for our J, who has a big mouth and a bit of a masochistic streak. J’s struggles with his/her sexual identity create a character who’s constantly on the edge of darkness, questioning what it means to be man, to be woman, to be both, or to be nothing at all.

While recovering from a particularly brutal beating, J begins to worry about his/her neighbor, whose colicky baby has suddenly stopped crying. In a feat of humanity uncommon for J (and most addicts, really), he/she strikes up a protective relationship with said neighbor,, a young woman and fellow addict who (hard as it is to believe) is actually more pathetic than J.

The bulk of the story takes place in J’s apartment and a local bar, and we get to meet his/her friend Molly, a boisterous lesbian who, herself, has far-too-long-ignored substance-abuse issues. There is also a kind nurse who is a welcomed voice of reason to the rest of the characters’ insanity, who forms a quite beautiful bond with J and ends up being a lynchpin for suggested further growth, development, healing, and self-discovery.

It might seem like I’m making fun of this book and what lies inside, but I’m truly not. When I call the characters pathetic, it’s because that’s the way Atkinson created them – and purposefully so. Having known quite a few addicts throughout my life, I found their portrayal both accurate and heartbreaking, though not without a sliver of hope. But what I appreciated most of all were the reasons for this addiction, for J in particular. I have no idea what it’s like to not know my gender, to one day know I’m a man and the next know, just as strongly, that I’m a woman. But I can imagine how much pressure that must place on an individual, socially as well as emotionally. Like it or not, we have some pretty strict public codes of conduct in this world when it comes to gender roles, and for those who choose (or have no choice in the matter) to buck them end up paying a high mental and physical cost.

This novel is told in first-person, from J’s viewpoint, and we the reader get to hear his/her thoughts on so many subjects – from the nature of religious icons to the contradictory messages of the LGBT community to how pitiable the life of an addict really is. He/she’s a very reliable source of information, for no matter how screwed up J might be, he/she still has his/her head on straight…mostly. So when J latches onto a single phrase, one used to describe the reasons her neighbor’s baby was taken away, those words gain that much more importance and a new, particularly foreboding meaning.

Failure to thrive.

That phrase is repeated over and over again, and really, that’s what Anomaly is all about. It’s the story of how incomplete we are as people – all of us – and how our standard definitions, though they might help keep things tucked neatly in little boxes, often times hurt us more than anything. It’s about the malfunction of the concept of love and how often we don’t know what that word means. It’s about caring for others more than ourselves, and realizing that when doing so we completely disregard the fact we must care for ourselves, lest every action we make means nothing.

But most of all, it’s the story of life, of the struggle to survive in a world that really has no one’s best interest in mind, a world that, in effect, makes it difficult for anyone to thrive. In that way Anomaly is a difficult and occasionally stomach-churning read. But it’s a learning experience, and very much worth the investment of time.

I’m glad I invested mine.

Plot - 9

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 9

Personal Enjoyment – 9

Overall – 47/50 (4.7/5)

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BOOK RELEASE - Night of Wolves by David Dalglish

That's right folks: David Dalglish, author of the Half-Orc and Shadowdance series, has started yet another series, this one chronicling the trials and travails of the paladins, both dark and light, that appear in his other books. Here's a look at the first installment, Night of Wolves.



PRODUCT DESCRIPTION:

"The humans are weak. Their skin is soft, and their minds dull from years of safety. We are the vicious. We are the destroyers. Come the full moon, when our goddess watches our victory, we will taste of their blood!"

----

Wolf-men, savage creatures given humanoid form in an ancient war, mass along the Gihon River. Led by their packleader Redclaw, they seek to cross the river and claim a land of their own, slaughtering those that would stand in their way. Two paladins, Jerico of the god Ashhur, and Darius of the god Karak, must helm the desperate defense against the invasion. Their friendship will be tested as their gods resume an unending war, and their very faiths call for the death of the other. Together, friend or foe, they must face Redclaw's horde.

NIGHT OF WOLVES by David Dalglish
Can faith remain when the gods call for blood?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

David Dalglish currently lives in rural Missouri with his wife Samantha, daughter Morgan, and snake, Velixar. He graduated from Missouri Southern State University in 2006 with a degree in Mathematics and currently spends his free time watching Spongebob Squarepants with his daughter.

Night of Wolves is currently available in ebook format for the rock-bottom price of 99¢ at Amazon and Amazon UK.

Inexpensive Kindle Books - EYE OF THE WIZARD $2.99

EYE OF THE WIZARD

Average Rating: 4.6

2.99

by Daniel Arenson

On the longest night of the year, a dark wizard murders a knight and his wife.

The knight's children survive and swear revenge. Sam and Jamie vow to become knights like their father. Neev, the middle child, vows to become a wizard.

Five years later, things look grim. Sam is useless with the sword. Jamie is denied knighthood because she's a girl. Neev cannot cast a spell without growing donkey ears, a monkey tail, or an elephant trunk. The siblings feel like failures.

That's when the dark wizard strikes again.

Are the siblings powerful enough to defeat him? Or will they too die at his hands?

Purchase Eye of the Wizard for $2.99 at Amazon.com.