Hey Ashers!

Spoiler Rating: Low-to-Moderate

Dear Ashers,

Due to unforeseen events (of which you and Katie already know the details, so I won't bore any other readers with them), I've read not even a single page in the last week.

I did promise you a letter today, and a letter you shall have! But, uh, it's actually a review I wrote in 2011, so it's not as thorough as the reviews I'm writing now, and it has no pictures to accompany it. I'm just going to copy and paste it here, and hope it entertains you for a minute or two. I know the book would (though not necessarily in a Wow, what a great book sort of way, if you catch my drift).

When the Devil needs a rogue demon killed, who does he call?

 

The Player: Necromance-for-hire Dante Valentine is choosy about her jobs. Hot tempered and with nerves of steel, she can raise the dead like nobody's business. But one rainy Monday morning, everything goes straight to hell.

 

The Score: The Devil hires Dante to eliminate a rogue demon: Vardimal Santino. In return, he will let her live. It's an offer she can't refuse.

 

The Catch: How do you kill something that can't die?

I'm a sucker for demons. That said, it took me two attempts to read this book. The first attempt ended after about twenty pages; I set it aside for a year, and picked it back up again after a long run of reading nothing but YA. I needed some good adult demon action.

The plot is very interesting--but that's really the only thing that compelled me to finish the novel. Danny Valentine herself came across as an enormous, one-dimensional jerk (to put it lightly).

When she's met with anything less than reverence and respect, her instinctive reaction is to physically hurt (or straight-up kill) the other person--even if the other person is her closest friend, who's just teasing her a little.

A traumatic childhood is hinted at, but never really elaborated on. If that's supposed to be the reason why she has such a problem with rage that she actually has to fight her desire to maim and destroy everyone who so much as laughs in her presence, it's not very well presented.

Even when she isn't holding back from disemboweling someone here or beheading someone there, she doesn't treat other people with respect, including her few friends.

She gives orders, and has to pry her white-knuckled hand off her sword hilt when they don't immediately snap to attention and do her bidding. Heaven forbid they want to discuss her plan, or suggest something different. She throws tantrums when somebody kills the bad guy she wanted to kill (even though she never told him she wanted to kill that particular bad guy), when anyone tells her that she's in danger, when it sounds like she might not be 100% in control of everyone's thoughts and actions.

(Yet, toward the end of the novel, when the group turns to her for What To Do Next, she moans to herself, wishing they could think for themselves and not always make her the one to come up with the plan. Because she had been so insistent on being in control throughout the novel, this struck me as a strange inconsistency.)

As a result, she reads like a self-absorbed preteen bully who doesn't know how to share her toys and is really very good at killing things.

Her lack of respect for other people is very noticeable in her interaction with Japhrimel (the "love" interest). He's given orders, and yelled at if he doesn't instantly obey them. When he tells her he wants to talk to her about something important, she dismisses him and his concerns without waiting to hear what they are.

(And yet he decides to forsake Hell and become Fallen because she treats him like an equal, and no one's ever treated him that way? Uh. She treats him like dirt in so many different ways. Their romantic relationship felt completely forced and unrealistic.)

(Also, the sex sounded horrible and rape-like.)

However. Despite all that, I finished the book because I was interested in its plot, and I wanted to know how it ended. And I'm glad I kept reading; its ending was surprisingly good.

All right. I'll admit I don't remember how the book ended, so I'll have to brush up on it before I (eventually) (maybe) pick up the second book, Dead Man Rising. But I do remembering wavering between fury, exasperation, and glee while reading this book, and I remember thinking that you'd find a lot to enjoy (in an infuriated, exasperated, gleeful way) if you ever read it, yourself.

Although it's possible I'm looking back on it more fondly than strictly necessary. Um.

Hope you're warm up there,

Liam

P.S.

Katie! Oh, man, I can't wait to see you. Tonight's going to be glorious. <3

Spoiler Rating: Moderate

Hello, Mom!

I finished Venetia several days ago, and have spent the intervening time simultaneously rushing through preparations for my grand return to Texas and debating how many stars Venetia rates.

It's certainly not so bad that I feel justified in spoiling all its plot points, so...at least there's that? With that in mind, I'll keep this letter relatively spoiler-free, in case you do decide to try Venetia out some day.

A young lady of beauty and intelligence facing an unbearable choice...

 

Venetia Lanyon is one of Georgette Heyer's most memorable heroines. Beautiful, capable, and independent minded, her life on the family's estate in the countryside is somewhat circumscribed. Then a chance encounter with her rakish neighbor opens up a whole new world for Venetia.

 

Lord Damerel has built his life on his dangerous reputation, and when he meets Venetia, he has nothing to offer and everything to regret. As Venetia's well-meaning family steps in to protect her from potential ruin, Venetia must find the wherewithal to take charge of her own destiny, or lose her one chance at happiness...

Damerel

• He's a vivid character who's great fun to read
• He has some lovely internal conflict and undergoes an interesting character arc
• His roles in the book (as rake and as romantic hero) are usurped by other characters in enjoyable ways

Venetia

• She's an engaging character who's great fun to read
• She's a strong heroine, and takes action when she knows action is needed
• The actions she decides on are entertaining and drive the plot forward in enjoyable ways

Venetia and Damerel

• I love them as a couple
• Really, their interactions--whether they're arguing, goofing around, or being affectionate--are hugely entertaining
• Frankly, I wish the book were half again as long, with the emphasis on their interactions

First I should warn you that I do indeed compare everything of Heyer's to Pride & Prejudice, which I acknowledge is vastly unfair of me. Getting to it, then!

 Venetia v. Pride & Prejudice

Round One: The Writing

Austen: Concise and vivid. No unnecessary words, no awkward transitions, tons of humor and sharp wit. Relies more on dialogue than narration to get characters' emotions/intentions/personalities/interrelationships across.

Heyer: A lot of attention to detail. Rather wordy and occasionally awkward. Smile- and laugh-worthy humor here and there. Relies heavily on narration rather than dialogue for, uh, everything.

Winner: Austen

Heyer was known for her careful study of the Regency era, and it shows in Venetia. You'll love all the period-accurate details--the customs, styles, and language:

But what I struggled with is the vast amount of exposition you have to wade through to get to the action. Frankly, it took me almost three hours to get through the first 30 pages because I found them so agonizingly boring.

Where Austen creates vivid character sketches in just a few sentences, Heyer actually interrupts dialogue to describe (for pages, not just sentences or paragraphs) characters' appearances, temperament, education, history, family situation, and so on. By the time dialogue resumes, my head's so full of poorly-timed (and largely unnecessary) background info that I've forgotten what the interrupted conversation was about, much less who spoke last and what they said.

(Well, this type of interruption has only happened a couple times so far--but that's still a couple times too many.)

Heyer's work isn't quite as careful as Austen's. Occasionally Heyer seems to have forgotten that she already wrote something, and so writes it again just a few pages later, such as when Venetia is reflecting on her first pleasant and intimate conversation with Lord Damerel (pages 64 and 68, respectively):

Fortunately, the dialogue (what relatively little there is of it) is generally realistic and quick-paced, particularly between Venetia and Lord Damerel, and there are occasional images that really leap off the page at me:

Round Two: Characters

Austen: Realistic, engaging, varied. Capable of arousing a deep emotional response: annoyance, sympathy, attraction, disgust, affection, and on, and on.

Heyer: Almost up to Austen's level, but not quite.

Winner: Austen

There is as pretty small cast of characters in Venetia so far: Venetia, Lord Damerel, Venetia's younger brother, Venetia's two suitors, and a few neighbors and servants. Venetia and Damerel are quite vivid and engaging, but I can't seem to focus on the other characters at all. They're there, and some of them have distinct personalities, but I just don't care--not even enough to get aggravated at Venetia's unwanted (and persistent) suitors.

But Venetia's got a sense of humor you'll love for sure. Take, for example, when she asks her grumpy, scholarly little brother what he's reading:

How can you not like her?

She's level-headed as well as humorous, and both independent and confident enough to take care of herself when she gets into a sticky situation--such as catching the eye of the Lord Philanderer (not his actual name). And more than his eye was caught when they met; Venetia's skirt was caught in the blackberry bushes she was harvesting, and she herself caught in Lord Philanderer's (still not his actual name) arms.

Not being the type to, say, have hysterics or faint, Venetia told him in no uncertain terms what she thought of his behavior, gave him a proper set-down, then delivers this parting shot:

I'm not quite as taken with Damerel as I am with Venetia, but that's because I prefer my bad boys fully reformed (or, at least, under complete self-control) before they meet their heroine, which you might recall from my lengthy rant against a certain jerk a little while back.

A lot of readers do go for sexually-aggressive heroes, of course; the romance genre is full to bursting with guys who, like Damerel (spoiler!), see the pretty heroine for the first time, decide they must have her at all costs, then physically restrain and kiss her despite her angry protests. (Admittedly not the worst thing a romantic hero has done to a heroine at first sight.)

Lord Damerel's, shall we say, forceful treatment of Venetia upon their first meeting will appeal to many, but it kind of just infuriated me. But otherwise he's quite attractive! He has a quick and mischievous sense of humor, an even temper, a kindness about him, and a sense of self-awareness (that is, full knowledge of his own flaws, weaknesses, desires, etc.) that reveals that he's matured out of the willful, hedonistic impulses of his early twenties. (Well, mostly. Assaults in the blackberry bushes aside.)

I'd take a picture of some of Damerel's best quips for you, but I'm afraid that taking them out of context would ruin them. Sorry!

Round Three: Plot and Pacing

Austen: Quick, with each conversation and event propelling the plot forward.

Heyer: Uh.

Winner: (Really, this isn't a fair fight.)

This goes back to the whole three-hours-to-read-thirty-pages bit. In the first quarter-ish of the novel, events do happen. Characters meet! Conversations are held! There is some conflict (if not quite enough for my taste)! But what's accomplished in over a hundred pages should've only taken, say, fifty at a stretch. Very reminiscent of Victorian literature, actually, which I also have a hard time focusing on.

The plot does pick up a bit after the halfway point, but don't get your hopes up too high; it hits at least two more stumbling blocks:

• The solution to Venetia's Major Problem arrives too soon and much too easily
• The major conflict of the third quarter of the book is never addressed at the end

Regarding the too-easy-to-believe solution: Venetia realizes she needs to take a certain course of action, and approximately two seconds later A Major Thing Happens that is exactly what Venetia requires for her plan to work. I would've rather seen her fumble around for a while first, trying to make her plan work but failing. I like my books to keep me on the edge of my seat, wondering if things are going to work out well for the protagonist. Instead, in Venetia's case, the solution is dropped into her lap almost before she even realizes that she needs a solution.

As for the conflict resolution issue: there's no (in my opinion) interesting conflict until the halfway point, when The First Major Thing (unrelated to the previously mentioned Major Thing) Happens. This conflict is fantastic, and did marvelous things to my blood pressure--but it's abandoned at the three-quarters point and never addressed again. I didn't need a happy ending to this conflict, but some kind of acknowledgement of it would have tied off this loose end. Because this is the first major conflict in the book, it's a rather enormous loose end to leave dangling.

So...yes. Four stars for Damerel and Venetia being engaging and hilarious and frustrating and romantic. One and a half stars for the plot boring me catatonic with its slowness in the first half, then aggravating me with its incredibility and a significant loose end in the second half.

Let's just go with two and a half stars, shall we?

Venetia might be a good choice for you if you're in the Regency mood, but there are better Heyer books out there. Sylvester: or The Wicked Uncle, say; that one earns an easy four stars.

We'll be landing in half an hour, and soon we'll be lounging on your couch, stuffed full of delicious Texas food. It shall be glorious.

Love,

Liam

Spoiler Rating: High

Hello again, Katie!

At last, your long-awaited letter. I write to you about a sci fi/fantasy thing (I struggled to find a word to describe it; "thing" does well enough, I guess) by Justina Robson: Keeping It Real.

As you're aware, I'm not really a science fiction reader (unless it's young adult sci fi, obviously), and my sci fi preferences lean strongly toward cyborgs and mecha-centric stories. (I blame the latter on watching Aliens as an impressionable young thing, and being smitten with Ripley's Caterpillar Powerloader.)

So imagine my delight when a friend let me borrow Keeping It Real, which features a cyborg woman defending an elf man (who's a rock star, FYI) against politically-motivated assassination attempts.

The Quantum Bomb of 2015 changed everything. The fabric that kept the universe's different dimensions apart was torn and now, six years later, the people of earth exist in uneasy company with the inhabitants of, amongst others, the elfin, elemental, and demonic realms. Magic is real and can be even more dangerous than technology. Elves are exotic, erotic, dangerous, and really bored with the constant Lord of the Rings references. Elementals are a law unto themselves and demons are best left well to themselves.

 

Special agent Lila Black used to be pretty, but now she's not so sure. Her body is more than half restless carbon and metal alloy machinery, a machine she's barely in control of. It goes into combat mode, enough weapons for a small army springing from within itself, at the merest provocation. As for her heart, well, ever since being drawn into a game by the elfin rockstar Zal (lead singer of The No Shows), who she's been assigned to protect, she's not even sure she can trust that any more either.

Not much plot in its synopsis, right? It's presented as more of a romance than anything else—which I probably should have taken into consideration when I first started reading. Let me tell you why.

But First, More About the Plot

Well, I guess I should explain the plot a tiny bit more. And by that I mean "spoil practically the entire novel."

As the synopsis stated, the human, demon, elf, and faerie realms (among others) are accessible to to each other for the first time, with some pretty interesting results. The elves are especially horrified by this development; they're isolationists, staunchly anti-technology, and prefer peace and calm and communing with nature to, well, anything else.

So when one if their own, the highborn Zal, moves to the human realm and starts eating meat (horror!) and singing high-intensity rock songs (horror!) and generally making a very non-elvish spectacle of himself, some unknown elves—presumably an extremist group that wants to return the elf realm to complete isolation—sends letters to Zal's music producer, threatening to kill Zal.

The humans are ruled by a unified government now, and its National Security Agency is so concerned about the safety of this rock star that they send their single cyborg operative, Lila, on an undercover mission to keep him safe. She's posing as a bodyguard from some random bodyguard agency, and let me tell you, she is really bad at being an undercover operative.

Anyway, Zal is kidnapped by the evil(?) elf queen/whatever, who plans to kill Zal because maybe his blood will repair the "fabric" that used to separate all the various realms, thereby returning the elves to their much-desired isolation. Lila quests through the elvish countryside to rescue Zal, and ultimately the queen fails, because happy endings.

There are some double-crossings and some uncertain loyalties and whatnot, which I approved of. There's some neat elf magic stuff, which I also approved of. There's a deus ex machina dragon at the very end, and you know how I adore dragons (regardless of their deus ex machina status). So why do I only give this book two stars?

Well.

Don't Put a Super Collider in Texas

I don't know where in Texas this super collider is supposed to have been, but there's a reason why houses in Texas don't have basements; the ground just isn't suited to them. At all. It's either too rocky to dig, the clay is too unstable, or the water table is too high. Unfortunately, this is the very first sentence in the book, and immediately set my eyes a-narrowing.

It's definitely a minor detail, and as a Texan I am perhaps picky about Texas-related details (as previously noted). However, this is the kind of detail that I would expect an editor to pick up on—and it's only the first in a series of should-have-been-edited errors of the factual, stylistic, and continuity variety.

Don't Skimp on the Logic Aspect of Worldbuilding

I was definitely fascinated by the elves' realm (which I'll describe a bit more later), but was pretty confused about the human one.

First, as a result of the realization that, hey, there are other realms out there, humans apparently (a) adopted a unified government, (b) adopted a single language, and (c) changed the name of the planet from Earth to Otopia. The story takes place in 2021—five years after the explosion that made inter-realm travel possible—which makes it kind of hilarious to read:

Somewhere in the last six years, people forgot that Earth was once Earth. Also during those six years, all that One World Government and One World Language stuff happened. Because if there's one thing humans are good at, it's unifying efficiently and without conflict.

Also odd is this:

So demons and elves have both been intimately aware of the existence of extradimensional regions, and both called this type of reality the Aetherstream—but upon meeting the humans, they both adopted the human phrase for it: Interstitial, or I-space. Even though humans weren't aware of I-space until the demons showed them that it existed. Sigh.

Don't Think Readers Won't Notice the Story's Illogical Premise

A premise is a fairly important aspect of a story, being, you know, what the story is built upon. An illogical premise makes for an illogical story. And boy does this story have some premise problems.

A year (couple of years?) before the story opens, Lila was apparently attached to the human diplomatic corps sent to the elves' realm, where she was to do some spying. Things went, shall we say, badly. She was tortured by elves and returned to the humans in such a condition that her only chance of survival was to undergo a fancy new experimental procedure that made her a cyborg.

Now, I love her cyborgness, and I'll describe that in more detail in a little while. What I don't love is what comes next.

Specifically, that Lila is chosen to be the 24/7 bodyguard of the elf rock star. Whom she'll have to be within arm's reach of, oh, 24/7.

Why is this a problem?

That's right. Lila is terrified of elves as a result of the whole tortured-nigh-unto-death experience. Oh, and deeply prejudiced against them, might I add.

I don't remember if it was explained why Lila is the operative chosen for this mission, though this tidbit does come up during a mild argument between Lila and Zal about whether or not he should do what she tells him to:

So not only is she terrified of elves, she doesn't even have to be on this mission because there are plenty of others who would happily accept it.

Fortunately (and I say that with finger quotes), Lila gets over her terror within approximately a page of meeting Zal. Now, I'm not a psychologist, but it seems a tad bit unlikely that Lila would work through such deep-rooted psychological issues within, say, fifteen minutes. As a reader, I'd want to see this sort of emotional progress take, oh, the majority of the book, at least. But as the synopsis suggests, the romance is more important than any realistic character development or arc, and almost as soon as Lila is over her fear of elves, she's telling herself not to be so attracted to Zal.

Oh, and since I mentioned psychologists: there is one on staff for the National Security Agency, a Dr. Williams. This poor woman quite desperately wants Lila to open up about being tortured and the transition from human to cyborg, but apparently Lila has other ideas.

Let me restate that to accurately express my astonishment:

Lila was tortured to the brink of death while on a mission in the elves' realm (Alfheim), and saved only by being transformed into a cyborg. She's essentially a one-woman army now. She's been physically rehabilitated and sent back out into the field, working as a lone operative on solo missions. The latest of which is to be the personal bodyguard of an elf.

And the Agency never once made her sit down and talk with a psychologist.

Only after Lila has begun her mission to protect Zal does this happen:

You read that correctly. Lila has never told anyone (at the Agency or otherwise) what actually happened to her leading up to/during the torture. She was just patched up (to be flippant about it) and sent back out in the field. Specifically, into a mission working for an elf.

I just. I can't.

What kind of Agency is this? How could thorough psychological rehabilitation not be included in Lila's post-operative treatment?

Katie, I'm despairing over here.

Don't Claim Your Heroine is an Elite Operative When She Clearly Can't Perform Her Job Correctly

Lila is just constantly failing at her job, starting from the moment she meets Zal:

It doesn't get better from there. Lila leaves him alone in crowded public places to go chit-chat in a bathroom, for one. She also is apparently completely unprepared for the mission, judging from how she needs to leave her charge alone to go back to her operations headquarters and stock up on necessary weapons/supplies after being on the job for less than a day. I'll repeat that for emphasis: she leaves her charge alone. To stock up on weapons and supplies. After being on the job for less than a day.

This is their top operative, really?

While stocking up at her operation's headquarters, this little interaction happens:

I'm not sure why she thinks she needs backup for a potential kidnapping situation, but doesn't need backup for potential assassination attempts. (Also, she doesn't actually get backup.)

During the time Lila spends as Zal's bodyguard, her skills are tested three times. She basically fails the first two, and definitely fails the third.

1. She fights two small assailants (presumably an assassination attempt) and gets poisoned and then knocked out.
2. She fights two adult assailants and is so badly outmatched that she goes into Battle Standard mode (which is awesome!) and almost kills herself and Zal in the process of trying to protect him.
3. She faces off with two adult assailants, and although she holds her own much better this time, Zal is still kidnapped. Whoops?

After the first time, surely someone—Lila or her superiors—should have thought, "You know, maybe having a single bodyguard on this mission isn't enough. Maybe two would be better."

Now, I know the book wouldn't have worked quite the same if Lila had backup, or if Lila was good at her job. But if the story requires Lila to (a) be an elite operative with the National Security Agency, and (b) suck at her job, I want to know why she is elite if she sucks as much as she does. This would've been a great time for her fear of elves to make itself known, for example—except, of course, that would accentuate how dumb the premise is. (Also, she's able to shut down her fear responses through the use of her Artificial-Intelligence-self, which is cool. This isn't the explanation for how she got over her fear of elves so quickly, alas.)

It's obviously necessary to have a flawed protagonist, one who makes mistakes and messes things up. No one enjoys reading about the bad ass who is so good at killing that she doesn't so much as break a sweat, because there's no tension or stakes involved when she's obviously going to win every battle.

The problem is when the character's mistakes and limitations should receive a certain type of response (say, from her superiors) but don't. If an operative is struggling with her mission, her superiors would send assistance. They wouldn't allow her to just continue messing up.

So there's another logic flaw for you: her superiors are idiots who clearly don't know how to run their Agency.

Cyborgs

As I mentioned, I'm into cyborgs. Pretty seriously. Like, everything about cyborgs fascinates me. I think it started young (watching Star Trek was a family affair when I was growing up, and man those Borg were scary), but didn't really become an obsession until I read Donna Haraway's A Cyborg Manifesto halfway through my master's program. That one article changed the whole course of my master's degree, and has greatly impacted both what I look for in a book and what I write, myself.

But suffice to say that I'm thrilled with Lila's cyborgness. She looks pretty darn neat:

Do I wish it had been more carefully and thoroughly explored? Definitely. But there are some acceptable nods toward the issues inherent in cyborgness, and I appreciated those. Such as, of course, her sense of self:

I've already referenced two of my favorite things about Lila's cyborg self: her Artificial Intelligence (aka AI-self) and Battle Standard mode.

Her AI-self is almost exactly what it sounds like: a secondary "brain" that can control her body, overrule her emotions, and is pretty constantly connected to the National Security Agency's, uh, internal servers, as well as the Internet and stuff. It's not intelligent in the sense that she has conversations with it, though. Her control over it is pretty thorough, and it allows her to do some neat stuff. Surgery, for example:

The only complication with her AI-self so far is that its Battle Standard mode is a tad bit...glitchy. Battle Standard is that super hardcore mode she can turn on when she's in a really bad spot, and...well, you can read it:

Cool, huh? I love both the AI-self and the glitchy Battle Standard, and all the cool things Lila can do with her cyborg body.

Interesting Elf-Related Concepts

Elves have kind of been done to death across all media, but (a) I still love them, and (b) I get quite excited when I come across a new or not-often-seen twist on the traditional elf. Keeping It Real offered some of that!

First is the andalune, which is something like an elf's...well, I'll just show you it in action.

In the elves' realm, however, it extends further than just a short distance from the elf's body, actually becoming one with the energy field of nature. The andalune does a great job of providing some additional explanation for why the elves are so nature-centric; they are literally connected to and dependent on nature at every level of their being. This is neat, particularly when so many elvish societies out there are nature-loving because that's just what elves are.

The other neat thing is the Game—a sort of trap that ensnares an elf and a human (or two elves, or an elf and a demon...you get the idea), created and sprung by free-floating wild magic without either party's consent. The wild magic loves secrets, and seeing them manifest in the real world—so if an elf and a human are at odds, and one or both has desires that they are denying, wild magic is likely to initiate a Game to see that those desires are forced into the open.

Of course, there's a science-fictiony sort of explanation offered:

Needless to say, Lila and Zal almost immediately get sucked into a Game revolving around (it's assumed) Lila's repressed attraction to Zal. Each Game has a Victory condition (in their case, the loser begs the winner to end the Game—and by "end the Game" I do mean "sate the loser's lust") and a Forfeit punishment (here, the one who forfeits will never be able to love anyone but the winner).

Honestly, I think this is super neat. The magic of the Game compels both participants to play, whether they want to or not. Humans are generally acknowledged as the predetermined losers, because elves and demons are such more more adept at them. Games between faeries and powerful human businessmen almost led to an economic collapse on earth, and everyone knows that if you commit a homicide as a result of a Game, you can easily get that charge downgraded to manslaughter.

Yes, the Game is an excuse to up the sexual tension between Lila and Zal, but I love the concept of the Game for its own sake.

A Reversal of Stereotypical Gender Roles

You are of course shocked to hear that I'm keenly interested in gender issues (identity, representation, roles, etc.). Ahem.

Keeping It Real offered a few really neat gender role reversals that had me smiling. Not terribly surprising, I guess, since this story is about a female protecting a male, but it goes beyond that basic premise. After all, Lila fails to adequately protect Zal, at which point the book turns into a Rescue the Princess quest.

First, there are the physical differences. Lila and Zal are the same height (unless Lila artificially alters her height by manipulating her cyborg legs), but where Lila is all metal and muscle, Zal is willowy grace, big eyes, and long hair.

(Not surprising, I guess, because he's an elf, and the stereotypical elf male these days is super androgynous—but nonetheless, I enjoyed it.)

Zal's personality is cocky and playful, which leads him to tease and test the businesslike Lila when they first meet. Her first official duty as his bodyguard is to transport him from his home to his recording studio, and she has her fancy motorcycle all ready to go for just that. Naturally, this becomes an opportunity for him to try to push her buttons:

(Lizzy would've loved all the motorcycle stuff.)

Casual Sex is Okay (Gasp)

Let me preface this by stating that, as you know (but anyone else reading this letter might not), I believe that people should do what they want to do with their own bodies without being, say, slut-shamed for it.

Now, I primarily read YA, where sex is rare (though increasingly less so), and then either rape or performed within the bounds of a committed relationship. As a result, when I do venture into New Adult and straight-up Adult novels, I'm surprised and delighted by (non-shaming) portrayals of casual sex. Casual sex is kind of, you know, a fact of modern life, particularly for us Millennials.

So when Lila engaged in some intimate dealings while on her Rescue the Prince quest, I was pleasantly surprised. Lila and Zal were attracted to each other at that point, but not in love, and Lila was free to do what she liked. And she did! With Zal's unreserved approval! No shaming, no agonizing or remorse. It was what Lila needed at that time, and life moved on.

No, I'm not sharing an excerpt.

I'll give Keeping It Real a solid two stars for effort. Its ending (which I won't spoil, unlike apparently everything else about this book—wow, this is a long letter) was much too deus ex machina, its premise too flimsy, and its character arcs too flat/nonexistent for more than two stars. But it did have its neat points (including one in particular that I didn't mention because I want there to be at least one good surprise in there if you read it yourself). I might consider reading the next in the series, Selling Out, but it'd be low on my to-read list.

Love,

Liam

Spoiler Rating: Moderate

Dear Katie,

Oh my goodness, I have to tell you about a post-apocalyptic, battle-for-survival, competent-young-woman-tries-to-protect-her-family story that I think you’ll love.

It’s been six weeks since angels of the apocalypse descended to demolish the modern world. Street gangs rule the day while fear and superstition rule the night. When warrior angels fly away with a helpless little girl, her seventeen-year-old sister Penryn will do anything to get her back.

 

Anything, including making a deal with an enemy angel.

 

Raffe is a warrior who lies broken and wingless on the street. After eons of fighting his own battles, he finds himself being rescued from a desperate situation by a half-starved teenage girl.

 

Traveling through a dark and twisted Northern California, they have only each other to rely on for survival. Together, they journey toward the angels’ stronghold in San Francisco where she’ll risk everything to rescue her sister and he’ll put himself at the mercy of his greatest enemies for the chance to be made whole again.

The setting is awesome

Angels have come to earth and started, well, destroying everything. I am all over this like you wouldn’t believe.

I’m utterly fascinated by the angels and the apocalypse itself. Also, Ee is doing a good job of displaying the fear and desperation for survival that might result from seeing society literally burning to ash around you.

Penryn is awesome

From the first page we get a good idea of Penryn’s character, past and present, and I really, really like her.

Sure, she’s your typical heroine for this genre: mature for her age, self-reliant, and capable of some impressive fighting maneuvers. Unlike some heroines, though, the reason she’s able to fight is both interesting and realistic.

See, Penryn’s mother has an unnamed mental illness (or maybe it’s something else entirely?) that involves her speaking with demons and going to extremes to protect herself and her daughters from monsters. After the accident that left Paige unable to use her legs (Penryn has no idea how it happened, by the way), their mother was in a state of acute mental distress. Then:

Penryn obediently spent five years devoting herself to her lessons, and let me tell you, they’ve paid off. (But not unrealistically so, mind you. She’s impressive but not so amazing that she’s completely confident in her ability to take names. I love this.)

Raffe is awesome

I’ve tried to find just one quick little quote that can display how neat Raffe is, but have decided to do without one–not because I can’t prove he’s neat, but because his neatness is being slowly revealed through his interactions with Penryn (who’s telling the story in first person, present tense). The quotes I especially liked require explanation of their interactions up to that point, and where’s the fun in that?

Penryn’s Goal

Penryn’s on a mission, and she’s going to use Raffe–the wingless angel she saved specifically for this purpose–to succeed. She’s certain Paige has been taken to the angels’ headquarters, the aerie (located in San Francisco). She’s also certain that Raffe will have to go back to the aerie to get his wings sewn back on. Thus:

Now, I’m a fan of stories with really high, save-the-world stakes. But there’s a lot to be said for a girl who knows her limits and focuses on what’s most important to her: family.

As a woman who sets a high value to familial bonds (whether blood-related or not), I know you’ll back Penryn one hundred percent on this.

Penryn’s Struggles

We never see what kind of girl Penryn was before the angels began destroying everything, but we do witness a notable change in her as soon as Paige is abducted and Penryn realizes the gravely-injured Raffe might be the key to getting Paige back.

To put it lightly, it’s not a change Penryn’s happy about.

Penryn is a girl who will do whatever it takes to save her sister, even that which goes against her moral code. This isn’t an uncommon theme in paranormal and fantasy novels, actually, but what is uncommon is how consistently disgusted she is by her own actions.

(Before you go thinking the book’s full of torture, let me assure you that Penryn doesn’t horrify herself terribly often. Adopting monstrosity in the face of a horrifying situation is a theme in this story; torture isn’t.)

Penryn and Raffe’s Interactions

Speaking of how Angelfall bucks against the standards of paranormal novels: Penryn and Raffe have a more realistic relationship than I’m used to seeing in this genre.

Paranormal novels that involve romance commonly (and much to my annoyance) feature powerful woman meeting an even more powerful man, with immediate power-play posturing and immediate (or near-immediate) high-wattage sexual tension on both sides. The woman is significantly less afraid of the man than she should be, and usually tells him so (even if there is an initial, token wave of fear; e.g. Halfway to the Grave), and most of their interactions revolve around that sexual tension and posturing.

Is Penryn a powerful young woman? Yes. Is Raffe significantly more powerful than she is? Yes. Does she immediately insist she’s not afraid of him?

So far they’re following the pattern, but if you look closely, you’ll see where they break free of it: Penryn doesn’t tamp her fear down. She tries to.

Penryn is genuinely afraid of Raffe, and recognizes the power disparity between them–and that fear constantly and consistently affects how she interacts with him. Early on in their acquaintanceship, this fear colors every exchange between them, verbal and nonverbal. And it is wonderful.

Then, as Penryn grows to understand him better–and, yes, as she begins to feel a connection to him that she knows she shouldn’t–her fear of him begins to fade at a realistic pace (italics to emphasize the significance).

Their interactions are also humorous, adding some appreciated levity to what could have otherwise been a pretty dark story. Here, after Penryn had to leave Paige’s wheelchair in a forest, Raffe tries to make her feel better by getting her to make fun of him. When she protests against his determination that she’s moping, he replies:

I suppose I could show you the whole conversation because it’s amazing and I love it, but I’d rather you just go read the book yourself.

Penryn’s Other Struggle

Yes, she struggles with quite a lot in this book. (Hurray!)

As they begin their journey, Penryn comes to a realization:

But Penryn and Raffe grow closer, and as they do, Penryn has something new to worry about–especially when they fall into the hands of Obi, leader of the human resistance in their area:

She has ample of opportunity to wonder about where her loyalty lies, let me tell you.

Other things that are awesome

1. The pacing is good.
2. Tension stays high.
3. Penryn’s race is ambiguous (dark brown hair, black eyes, and last name of Young), but I automatically read her as being of East Asian descent. For that reason, I’m putting this down as a book with a person-of-color primary character.
4. Raffe’s race is also ambiguous (black hair, deep blue eyes, “light caramel skin”).

As is typical for debut novels, Angelfall has its rough edges.

The writing style could occasionally use some work

The writing style is perfectly acceptable (neither bad nor amazing), but it does make the occasional dip into wince-inducing territory. The book’s very first paragraph, for example:

Brilliant sunsets do, indeed, tend to be sunset-colored. Because, you know, sunset.

But again, this is a debut, and you can expect some amount of uneven style from a debut. Style improves with practice!

The chapter breaks are sometimes frustrating

I experienced genuine annoyance by the placement of the chapter break between chapters one and two. Here’s the end of chapter one:

Chapter breaks serve three general functions: to signal the end of a scene/shift to a new point of view, to provide a natural break where the action shifts gears, and to generate suspense.

When a chapter ends with intense fear of what’s on the other side of the door, and a dramatic opening of that door, what do you as the reader assume? That the chapter break is the author’s way of ratcheting up the tension because something major is about to happen, of course. This suspense is what compels you to stay up hours after your bedtime; you must know what’s going to happen next.

Here’s the beginning of chapter two:

Nothing happens. There’s nothing on the other side of the door except empty street. Empty street for pages.

This chapter break builds a fantastic amount of suspense and then just shrugs it off. This can frustrate, disappoint, and even betray a reader’s trust–which is the opposite of what you want to do, especially so early in a novel.

The differently-abled character is a plot device

Penryn’s little sister, Paige, is the impetus for the entire plot: she’s kidnapped by angels, and Penryn risks everything to save her. Paige is also wheelchair-bound.

Paige is present just long enough for the reader to be assured that she’s sweet and helpless, and her abduction by angels sets off the plot of the story. Do I have a problem with sweet, helpless little sisters? Of course not. Do I have a problem with her abduction taking place so quickly? Of course not.

What bothers me is that she is a plot device, not a person. All we know about her personality is that she smiles a lot, and that she has strong feelings against eating meat. The only action we see her perform is trying to split an energy bar equally between herself, her sister, and her mother. This sketches a vague idea of a sweet, sensitive girl, but it’s a very one-dimensional sketch. She’s a shadow of a person, not a full one.

If she had a few lines of dialogue and a performed few more actions (even tiny ones!) we would have a much better grasp on who she is beyond Sweet Little Sister. However, in the short time we spend with Paige, she says exactly one thing: Penryn’s name, as she’s being abducted.

Her utter silence begins in the story’s fifth paragraph:

How does Penryn know Paige likes her to push the wheelchair? Because Penryn just knows, not  because Paige has ever told her so, or asks her to in that moment. The distinction there is marked enough that I immediately wondered if Paige was unable to speak, an idea that was reinforced by Paige’s continual silence–at least up until the moment she screamed Penryn’s name.

If Paige’s silence is important to her character (perhaps a result of the mysterious trauma that had confined her to a wheelchair?), I would like to know that. But we’re told nothing, and I can only speculate as to why Paige has no voice. My speculations aren’t good.

Voicelessness is generally associated with weakness and powerlessness, and Paige is the essence of powerlessness. She depends on her sister for survival, as you would expect from any sweet-tempered seven-year-old thrown into a post-apocalyptic world. This dependence on Penryn is made even more crucial by her inability to use her legs–and then exaggerated even further by her preference to be pushed by her sister rather than be in control of her own movement.

In short, Paige is presented as The Totally Helpless Girl Who Needs Saving rather than a person, and this is beyond disappointing.

Other (Minor) Issues

1. Penryn doesn’t suspect something that she really, really should have suspected, and it made me question her intelligence.
2. For a species that despises (and is apparently trying to eradicate) humans, angels sure do love human stuff. The fancy-pants angels wear zoot suits and speak in ways reminiscent of teens or old-school gangsters. At one point, a scientist-angel is wearing a human lab coat over his wings. It seemed odd that angels, who place so much value in their wings, would adopt the fashions of the “monkeys” they’re annihilating, particularly when those fashions cover their wings. Maybe this will be explained in the next book?
3. I’m absolutely in love with the climax, but the final chapter (which was, I think, a page and a half long) was oddly flat for such an emotional, moving book. I can understand the reason for its flatness, but think that, with some editing, it could’ve been much more powerful.

Race Stuff

I think it’s interesting that so many people read Penryn and Paige as white. I avoid reading reviews until after I’ve finished a book, and when I started poking through reviews of Angelfall earlier today, that’s the first thing I noticed. Curious, I plugged a few search terms into Tumblr to see what pictures came up, and the vast majority of the fan-chosen pictures for Penryn featured white (more specifically, blonde-haired and blue-eyed) models and actresses. A few women of Chinese, Korean, and Japanese descent popped up, but not many. So I dug further, and found that author herself had deliberately described Penryn in a manner that would allow readers to view her however they liked.

Thinking back, I only remember her dark hair and black eyes mentioned once, and a single reference is easy to overlook, forget, or deliberately ignore. I’m all for letting readers envision characters as they will, but I’ll admit I hope that if this book does get made into a movie, the actress chosen to portray Penryn is a woman of color.

Religion Stuff

Despite, you know, dealing with angels descending from heaven to (apparently) wipe humanity off the face of the earth, there’s almost no religion in the novel. All of the major characters–including Raffe!–are atheist or agnostic. There is no preaching, no Christian message. I wish there had been a Christian character so I could see their reaction to the whole angels-wiping-out-humanity thing, but that’s okay.

Arc Stuff

As well as a general lack of religion, this book is fairly quiet on the “deeper message about humanity or whatever” front. This is, I assume, largely because Penryn doesn’t experience a completed character arc; she does change a little over the course of the novel, but not enough. I’m assuming that her arc will continue across the next couple of books, so perhaps a clearer message will show itself. But to be clear, the lack of a completed arc hasn’t negatively affected my reception of this book. It’s just, you know, a thing to note, in case you yourself prefer heroines undergo a more solid character arc.

Angelfall is definitely a four-star book, and if I enjoy the sequel this much, they might be added to my permanent collection. (My bookshelf space is precious, you know, and I can’t afford to add books that aren’t going to be reread a hundred times. I’ve already usurped Andrew’s shelves, and we’ve run out of walls to put new shelves against. It’s a terrible problem to have.)

Love,

Liam

Spoiler Rating: High

Hello, Ashers!

Several years ago I confessed to you that I’d started a pre-dawn jogging routine because Anita Blake was amazing and I totally agreed with her on the whole You Need To Be Able To Outrun Bad Guys idea. And how did you respond? By admitting you wanted to do that too, and for the exact same reason. (Truly our friendship was destined!)

I’m always on the lookout for another series as enjoyable as the first several Anita Blake books were, but the paranormal shelves at bookstores and libraries are collapsing under their own weight, and it’s difficult to find something genuinely good amid the mess. (Have you read the Kara Gillian series yet? Do it. Do it now.)

So I go into a new paranormal series half cautious, half hopeful–ready to be disappointed, but eager to be pleased. Unfortunately, I didn’t find much to be pleased about with Jeaniene Frost‘s Halfway to the Grave.

Are you ready for me to spoil absolutely everything about this book?

Flirting with the grave . . . 

 

Half-vampire Catherine Crawfield is going after the undead with a vengeance, hoping that one of these deadbeats is her father - the one responsible for ruining her mother's life. Then she's captured by Bones, a vampire bounty hunter, and is forced into an unholy partnership.

 

In exchange for finding her father, Cat agrees to train with the sexy night stalker until her battle reflexes are as sharp as his fangs. She's amazed she doesn't end up as his dinner - are there actually good vampires? Pretty soon Bones will have her convinced that being half-dead doesn't have to be all bad. But before she can enjoy her newfound status as kick-ass demon hunter, Cat and Bones are pursued by a group of killers. Now Cat will have to choose a side . . . and Bones is turning out to be as tempting as any man with a heartbeat.

For ease of reading, I’m going to list my complaints before explaining them. I, uh, have a feeling this will be a somewhat long letter.

Our Heroine, Cat

1. Her character development is lacking
2. She doesn’t have a fulfilling character arc

Our heroine is a twenty-two-year old from small-town Ohio, born to a girl who had been raped by a vampire. The trauma of the rape and the shame of having a child out of wedlock had driven Cat’s mother into seclusion, and Cat was raised by her emotionally-damaged mother and conservative Christian grandparents. With her mother’s enthusiastic blessing, Cat’s on a mission to rid the world of vampires by luring vampires into secluded places with offers of sexy times and offing them, one by one.

This sounds like a really neat premise for a character, right? And it is!

Except Cat doesn’t go beyond that premise at all. Her character displays the stereotypical Bad Ass Woman With Self-Esteem Issues attitude (you know the one–that flips between annoying bravado and moroseness). Well, she describes herself well enough, so I’ll leave her to it:

Other than that, her only real characteristic is her repressed sexuality. We never learn what kind of music she listens to, what movie genre she’s obsessed with, if she’d rather spend her weekends reading or backpacking. I have no idea what she fears most, or what she wants to do with her life. She’s apparently a junior in college, but we’re never even told what her major is. *Shakes a fist.*

Seriously, this character is just a name with an “attitude” and some issues about sex. Oh, and she kills vampires. (But even her motivation for killing vampires, which sounds promising in summary, is flimsy at best in the book. But I’ll go into that later.)

So what does this mean for her character arc? Nothing good, really. I mean, stereotypical paranormal heroines are by and large Bad Ass Women With Issues, so we can’t reasonably expect her to be less Bad Ass or less Issued by the end of the book. So that leaves only her repressed sexuality as the thing that can be changed. And change it does! Behold Cat as we first meet her, attempting to lure her vampire prey into a secluded area for some killing:

Keep in mind, by the time the book opens, Cat’s been luring vampires to their deaths by offering sex for six years. Six. And she’s still unable to control her awkwardness or blushing. Bones, the “sexy” vampire bounty hunter who forces Cat to become his partner (supposedly because he wants to hone her, uh, natural gift of luring vampires to their deaths), is not too pleased with this tendency of hers:

But don’t worry, he has a plan to wipe that blush right off her face: dirty-talk lessons.

That’s right. In order to become the ultimate vampire hunter, Cat undergoes four weeks of intense physical training, and then a week of beautifying, clothes-shopping, and dirty-talk lessons.

I. I just.

The lessons are a success, and the very first time they go hunting together, she puts her newfound ability to not blush to good use. And then, uh, she falls into lust with Bones, they have sex, she’s squeamish afterward because Issues, she realizes she loves him unto madness, and all her issues with sex disappear.

And why do her Issues disappear? Because they were neither big nor important to begin with.

So, yes. Her only character “arc” is that she stops being embarrassed about sex and sexuality. She doesn’t learn an important life lesson, she’s not significantly changed after facing down her greatest fear. She falls in love and has sex.

If we were Skyping right now, you would’ve just witnessed the longest sigh.

Oh–and if you are wondering if Cat comes to terms with herself being half-vampire, or decides to stop worrying so much about what her mother thinks about her intimacy with a vampire, and if those count as significant character arcs, let me shake my head at you. Because no. There’s some feinting in those directions, sure, but they’re not fleshed out enough to count.

Our Love Interest, Spike Bones

1. He has no character arc at all
2. He’s really creepy (in a bad way)

Our love interest is a two-hundred-plus year old Englishman with super-sculpted cheek bones, a slender build, a wardrobe of dark clothing, and the attitude of…well, I’ll show you.

Bones is Spike from Buffy, all the way down to his dark eyebrows and bleach-blond hair.

Now, to be totally honest with you, I’m all over Spike. Angel just never did it for me. What bothers me about Bones is that in order for me to like him, I have to pretend he actually is Spike, with Spike’s awesome backstory and complex personality and motivations and character arc and so forth. Bones himself is just, like Cat, a name attached to a stereotype (Bad Boy With Good Intentions), with some attitude and some vampire-killing thrown in. No real personality traits, no apparent hopes or fears or goals, no depth.

Unlike Cat, he doesn’t have any Issues to resolve, so he just kind of…exists in the story. No revelations, no life-altering decisions, no change. Static beginning to end.

He’s so boring.

And when he’s not being boring…wait. I need to rephrase that. And on top of being boring, he’s also really, really creepy.

This is a book overflowing with men who objectify and sexually abuse women–but our love interest can’t be one of them, right? Let’s see what he tells Cat on the subject:

That’s a relief! But his gentlemanly attitude is to be expected, right? He is, after all, our love interest!

Tell us again your stance on the subject, Bones.

And yet.

How does he respond when Cat tells him she regrets having kissed him and doesn’t want to do it again?

That’s right. He goes all enraged and tells her if she doesn’t leave immediately, he’s going to force her to kiss him.

Not exactly living up to your insistence that you’re a good guy there, pal.

Later on, when Cat realizes that their make-out session is taking a turn towards cunnilingus, this happens:

That’s right. She told him she didn’t want him to go down on her, and he was all like, “Your desires aren’t as important as mine,” and did it anyway. The fact that she ends up liking it is supposed to make this okay.

It is not okay.

And it gets even better (and by “better” I do mean “worse”). You remember how both I and the synopsis mentioned that she’s forced to become his bounty-hunting partner? Yeah. When he captured her, he chained her up in a cave, threatened her with torture, then discovered she’s half-vampire (and full of bravado). He then told her she had two options: be his partner or be killed. He later reveals that he gave her these options because:

He was attracted to her attitude, so he decided to kill her if she didn’t agree spend time with him. His thought process was quite literally, “This lady is swell, but she’s prejudiced against me. How should I buy time to prove to her that I’m a neat guy? How about I tell her I’ll kill her if she doesn’t obey my every command? Perfect! She’ll be swooning in my arms in no time!”

Ashers, quite honestly, I took multiple breaks from this book to wash the rage from my mouth. (Clearly I was not this book’s intended audience.)

Of course, it’s not a surprise when he warns her against trying to run away from him once she finally enters into a physical relationship with him:

Because a physical relationship automatically makes her his property, you see! And should she want to end the relationship and move on with her life–well, too bad. Bones is the only one who can make decisions about her life, and he won’t allow her to exist independently of him.

(Excuse me while I go get some lemonade; my mouth is tasting ragey again.)

And because this is supposed to have been a really sexy and romantic thing for him to say, it has to be brought back up later on. The book actually ends with Cat running away from Bones to prevent him from being killed by some government agency. The last page reads:

Oh, yeah. Knowing this creep is going to hunt me down and never let me go just fills me with all the warm tingly feelings.

You just missed another really big sigh over here.

The Romance, As It Were

1. It becomes the focal point of the story
2. It’s shallow and unrealistic

What I love so much about the early Anita Blake novels and the Kara Gillian series is that they aren’t about women falling in love. These are stories about women being dragged into situations where they’re out of their depth, and how they struggle to gain control (much less survive) and come to terms with the resulting change in themselves/their world. Oh, and they fall in love (or, at least, sexy, complicated interpersonal relationships) along the way.

In Halfway to the Grave, the falling in love part takes precedence over the plot. It’s falling in love that changes Cat (by making her comfortable with sex), not any revelation about herself or life or whatever. Even the placement of events in the book are telling: the first-quarter point is marked by Bones and Cat killing their first joint bounty together (which is awesome), but the halfway point is the first time they have sex, and three-quarters point is the first time Cat tells Bones she loves him, and lets him drink her blood. Instead of, you know, a halfway point and three-quarters point that are plot-relevant.

Now, I’m not looking down on stories that focus on romantic relationships. I may not be a heavy romance reader, but I’m an obsessive Jane Austen fan, I’m passingly fluent in Georgette Heyer, and (secretly) believe that fantasy novels feel a bit empty without a solid romance element. My to-read shelves are fairly well populated with romance novels.

What I look down on are novels that present themselves as having a romance plot and a non-romance plot, yet fail to make either aspect compelling.

Yes, this book’s romance plot failed for me primarily because Bones is such a disgusting excuse for a love interest, but that wasn’t the only reason.

Let’s take, for example, the first turning point in their relationship, when Cat admits to herself that she kind of wants a relationship.

“But Liam,” you say, “that looks quite acceptable.”

Yes, in excerpt form it does. The problem here is that she’s not for the first time allowing herself to notice how beautiful he is; she’s been aware of how beautiful he was from the very beginning. She’s even told him how beautiful he is. It’s not some great revelation or admission. It’s old news.

For the first step on the path toward love, this was underwhelming.

On top of that, the romance just wasn’t very…romantic. It’s hard to believe two characters are falling in love when I view them as stereotypes rather than real people, first of all. It’s hard to be excited about two characters falling in love when one of them is super creepy and abusive, second of all. And third, neither of them is changed by their relationship at all–except for Cat deciding she’s cool with nudity and the f-word around strangers.

The Plot, As It Were

1. There’s little tension
2. The stakes are low
3. Situations are contrived and silly

For a story like this to be really gripping, its heroes (and readers) need to believe that there is a possibility that the good guys will fail, and the villain will have his evil way with the world. That tension (will they succeed or won’t they?) is not present in this story.

Cat is just too much of a bad ass for the story’s own good. She’s already a seasoned vampire hunter by the time she teams up with Bones, and once she undergoes his physical- and dirty-talk-training, she’s unstoppable. (Well, stoppable by roofies in her drink, but that’s why she has a partner to back her up?)

They never face an enemy they can’t take down easily–and by the time final battles roll around, they’re basically mowing vampires down in their sleep.

If they can sleep through these battles, I might as well do the same.

(Actually, I didn’t sleep through these battles. I giggled in disbelief and delight at how absurd they were. I’m still giggling.)

Not only are they unstoppable to the point of boring, the stakes–if the do somehow fail–are really low. (But they can’t possibly fail, so the stakes are moot.)

The villain, a vampire named Hennessey, has a sex- and blood-slavery ring that kidnaps human girls and sells them to wealthy vampires. Bones has been trying to bring Hennessey down for years, and Cat is determined to help him. If they fail, an unknown number of girls will continue to disappear and die. This is horrifying, but in my opinion, neither Cat nor Bones express an adequate amount of horror over it.

At one point (and, yes, I’m using the most heinous example of this) Cat and Bones do save a girl from the ring, and immediately take her to Tara, a friend of Bones’s who helps rape survivors. Neat, right? But the focus of that scene is on Cat’s jealousy and suspicion of Tara’s possible sexual interest in Bones, and Tara’s reassurance that Bones is totally into Cat. The victim is actually removed from the scene to be taken care of, while the reader stays in the room with Tara and Cat as they deal with Cat’s roiling Bones-related emotions. The victim is just an excuse to introduce Tara to Cat.

For another example of victims who could’ve been portrayed in a more powerful and meaningful way, let’s go with Cat’s grandparents. Toward the end of the book, Cat and Bones discover that her grandparents have been murdered and her mother kidnapped:

(The sniffing, by the way, is Bones using his mighty vampire nose to glean information about the killers.)

It could be a really powerful scene, right? Except that we’ve never seen even a hint of emotional connection between Cat and her grandparents, much less affection or love. They’ve existed in the story only as the Uptight Elderly Christians Who Frown At Their Granddaughter. Cat’s emotional response to them is essentially indifference. Why does Cat care that they died? Why should I?

The same stands for her mother: there’s no meaningful emotional connection, so why should anyone care if she was kidnapped?

This isn’t a difficult problem to solve; just a handful of lines describing, say, positive aspects of her relationships with these people scattered throughout the book would’ve helped.

Though I will say that despite not caring about Cat’s mom, I was genuinely horrified by the way Cat treated her at the end of the book. Cat saves her from the vampires, and vows to protect her from further harm–a vow that winds up with the two of them hiding in the home of Bone’s friend, a flesh-eating ghoul named Rodney. Once there, Cat shoves her mom in Rodney’s basement and locks her in:

Do I like Cat’s mother? No. Does that excuse Cat’s behavior? No.

This woman, who was so traumatized by her rape that she rarely left her house again, who was kidnapped from her house by vampires and held by them with a group of girls being sold into slavery, who witnessed her daughter slaughter countless vampires to free her, and so on–this woman is shoved into a basement and threatened by her own daughter with death-by-ghoul. And the situation is written as if it’s funny, something for the reader to chuckle over.

I’m making rage-hands right now, just so you know.

Cat clearly has very little regard for her mother, which makes the whole kidnapped/rescued situation even less meaningful than it was before.

A lack of tension and low/non-existent stakes are major flaws in a book; plot contrivances are minor in comparison. But they’re still annoying, and this book has them, so I’m going to mention them. Well, I’ll mention one, to save space.

The reason Cat is so uncomfortable about sex-stuff is because when she was sixteen, she slept with the guy she liked and he dumped her immediately afterward. Actually, she saw Danny making out with another girl in a club, and when she confronted him he told it’d been fun but he’d moved on (my words, not Danny’s). She was so furious that she found a vampire in the club and lured him out to his death–her very first vampire slaying.

Now, six years later, Danny sees Cat in a bar and comes over to say hi and remark on how she’s changed (she’s in her super-sexy vampire-hunting getup). Bones is displeased:

Needless to say, Danny runs off and files a police report about some dude crushing his hand.

(I’m resisting writing a paragraph on my response to Bones’s behavior here. Be proud.)

Meanwhile, the police find a car rusting away in the local lake, and on the shore nearby excavate the decapitated body of a man who appears to have been dead for twenty years, but is wearing modern clothing. The car, it turns out, was that of a woman who’d been kidnapped from Indiana six years ago. (Keep in mind, this is small-town Ohio we’re in now.) The detectives link the car (dumped in the lake six years ago) and the decapitated body (which looks like it’s been dead for twenty years, but is wearing modern clothes) to each other because…reasons?

(Spoiler: the decapitated body is that of the vampire who’d kidnapped and murdered that woman in Indiana. He’s the vampire Cat chose for her first slaying, when she was all raged-up about Danny’s betrayal, thus beginning her life of body- and vehicle-dumping.)

For some reason, the detectives on the decapitated-body-and-dumped-car case call Danny after seeing his report about his hand being crushed, and for some reason Danny says, “Oh, by the way, six years ago I saw Cat leave a club with a guy who looks like that kidnapper from Indiana who hasn’t been seen since.”

The detectives then tie Cat to the dead kidnapper/vampire, which Evil Vampire Hennessey finds out about because he has connections to the police. So now Hennessey knows Cat’s identity, and he has her grandparents killed and her mother kidnapped.

All because the guy who did her and dropped her has a memory like a steel trap.

Sure, this is possible. But is it plausible? No. I can only suspend my disbelief so far–and while I could forgive it if the story had, you know, compelling characters, a vivid romance, and lots of tension and high stakes, I can’t forgive it when every other aspect of the story is a mess.

Cat’s High Rank In The Government Agency Thing

1. It makes no sense.
2. Who on earth thinks this is a good idea?

In the end, Cat has the honor of meeting Mr. Tate, head of the super-secret Paranormal Behavior Division, a unit made up of men from the FBI, CIA, and armed forces. Mr. Tate comes to her with an offer not unlike Bones’s original offer (but with better motives):

In exchange for a job vampire-hunting for the government, the murder charges she’s facing will be dropped (by the way, she killed the governor of Ohio) and her mother will be protected from any vampires seeking retribution for all the slaying Cat’s been up to. If she agrees, cool. If not, Mr. Tate implies, Cat will spend her life in jail and her mother will die.

Cat agrees, but with some conditions. Including this one:

That’s right. Our twenty-two year old heroine, who has no tactical experience, no team-combat experience, no command experience, no clue about how to hunt vampires except to either seduce them into a forest and stake them when their pants are down or break down walls and slaughter everything in sight, insists that she’s superior to everyone ever and is the person most qualified to lead a military troop on vampire-hunting missions.

And the head of the Paranormal Behavior Division nods in agreement.

Ashers, I’m just…I’m overwhelmed by how dumb this is. I have no words. It is so dumb.

The Writing Style

1. It’s often silly

I’m sure you know this, but just in case: words mean things. Usually very specific things. Sometimes a group of words are interchangeable (sure, I’ll let you swap ball and orb and sphere), but often a group of similar words are not interchangeable. It’s important to use the correct word. Like, really important.

Take this scene, where Cat is fighting a vampire on the front lawn of the governor’s mansion, while the governor’s guards (vampires and humans, burly and well-armed), watch from a safe distance:

It’s unspeakably hilarious that the guards are screaming at the sight of a fight. Needless to say, I laughed out loud, reading it–and then realized that perhaps the correct word should have been “shouting” or “yelling,” and stopped laughing. Because, you know, word choice. Super important.

Bullets don’t usually land on people, you know? It’s not like they were gently tossed onto the tops of his shoulders. They penetrated his body and flew out the other side. That’s not landing on.

And finally (because I guess I should start winding this review up):

I don’t know how Cat bowls, but I don’t think you’re supposed to hurl the bowling ball through the air at mid-back height. Pretty sure it’s supposed to roll along the ground, closer to foot-height. Perhaps she should’ve used a slow-pitch analogy instead.

I don’t think you need me to summarize my opinion of this book for you.

And no, I don’t think I’ll be reading the rest of the series, no matter how good the reviews are on Booklikes.

But seriously, read the Kara Gillian series already. You’ll love it.

Yours,

Liam

Hey Ashers!

Spoiler Rating: Moderate

Dear Ashers,

With the failure of Crown Duel in mind, I spent a good half hour prowling through the bookstore last weekend, on the hunt for something that didn’t look likely to break my heart. And lo, there was Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson.

Ashers, my life will never be the same.

Once, a hero rose to save the world. He failed.

 

For a thousand years since, the world has been a wasteland of ash and mist ruled by the immortal emperor known as the Lord Ruler. Every revolt has failed miserably.

 

Yet somehow, hope survives. Hope that dares to dream of ending the empire and defeating the Lord Ruler. A new kind of uprising is being planned–one that depends on the cunning of a brilliant criminal mastermind and the determination of an unlikely heroine: a teenage street urchin named Vin.

 

Where a hero rose to save the world and failed, can a young heroine succeed?

Vin Is Not A Spunky Heroine

Vin was raised on the streets of the capital city by her elder brother, who beat her to teach her to withstand beatings, and who betrayed her to teach her that no one can be trusted. When the story opens, she’s basically the indentured servant of a street-gang crewleader. Does she parade around with a mischievous glint in her eye, getting cheeky with the gang leader and leading the imperial guards on a merry chase that she always wins?

No.

Vin’s observant, intelligent, curious, strong-willed, and brave–but also mistrustful, paranoid, and always braced for the worst. In other words, she’s a real person who’s been markedly affected by the world in which she grew up, not a Spunky Heroine who strolls through hardship with a smirk. Three cheers for that!

(And don’t worry, Camon doesn’t keep her down for long.)

Kelsier Is Your Kind Of Guy

That “brilliant criminal mastermind” mentioned in the synopsis is Kelsier, a man in his mid-thirties who’s totally hot in a way you’ll like: the nonchalant-but-totally-powerful, has-a-risky-plan-to-change-the-world, will-kill-and/or-die-to-succeed sort of way.

But, like Vin, Kelsier comes across as (and yes, this is once more italics-worthy) a real person. He has flaws as well as strengths, and those flaws become increasingly apparent as you get to know him. Neither of these characters are perfect, and their imperfection is fantastic.

Their Mission Is A Team Effort

Ashers, you’re a Pathfinder-playing lady. I know you appreciate a good story featuring people of varying talents working together to…do whatever it is that people of varying talents work together to do. And although only Vin and Kelsier are mentioned in the synopsis (and are the only POV characters), Mistborn is totally a team-driven book.

Kelsier leads a hand-selected group of underground magic users, hired by a man named Yeden for a very daunting purpose.

Each of Kelsier’s men (plus Vin) has a specific ability that makes them essential to the scheme, and if anyone fails, terrible deaths await them all. Likely at the hands of one of these guys:

(No thanks.)

The Tone Is Well-Balanced

Obviously, Vin’s life hasn’t been roses–and what we see of her life before she’s taken in by Kelsier is, uh, unpleasant to say the very least. Her treatment at the hands of her original crewleader is deplorable, and both the abuse and her reaction to it comes across as brutally honest.

But I don’t want you to think that this book is entirely gritty and grim, because it’s not. Kelsier’s charming and witty and funny, and his men have some genuinely humorous interactions as their personalities meld and clash.

Character Transformations

The plot is all about a skaa (read: slave/slave-ish) rebellion against the Lord Ruler, led by the skaa/noble halfbreed Kelsier–but so much of the story is about how the rebellion changes people. And it is glorious.

You remember who Part Two of Crown Duel involved the heroine Mel “infiltrating” the king’s court to do some spying, which resulted in chapter after chapter of her learning courtly manners and having awkward interactions with sexy Shevraeth, but not much else?

Street urchin Vin, like Mel, is put in a ballgown and thrust into noble society to do some spying:

Unlike Mel’s experience, (a) things happen when Vin enters court, (b) those things make sense, and (c) those things matter. All of which is made even more powerful by how realistically Vin’s slow transformation from powerless, paranoid thief to noblewoman-impersonator (with secret and powerful magical abilities) is portrayed. It’s in the way she moves, where she directs her gaze, the decisions she makes, the words she chooses. Her transformation is real, because it is slow and subtle and doesn’t change everything about her; she still struggles with trust, and this struggle affects both her transformation and the plot.

How awesome is that?

And yes, she does meet someone at her first ball. And no, I’m not going to tell you anything about that.

Betrayal

Vin’s trust issues play into a larger shadow of betrayal that sort of looms over the entire story, making for some powerful tension as Vin waits for the next betrayal to happen. Each character is suspect, and each one’s potential betrayal would be potentially devastating.

Vin grew up with the knowledge that everyone will eventually betray her, and therefore no one is to be trusted. When she gets picked up by Kelsier to be part of his scheme to bring down the Lord Ruler, she’s confused and disbelieving to witness how Kelsier trusts his men, and they trust him. Vin isn’t forced to work for Kelsier and his team; he gives her a choice to stay or go, and she stays not because she believes that their scheme is right or just or worthy, but because she wants to see exactly how this whole “everybody trusts everybody” nonsense pans out for Kelsier and his team. It can only end badly, she thinks–but at the same time, she longs to be proved wrong.

I love it.

Motives And Doubts

Vin’s motives to stay with Kelsier’s team aren’t particularly noble or self-sacrificing in the beginning, but, like all realistic motives, they slowly change over the course of the story. This, of course, ties back into the whole Vin-feels-like-a-real-person thing I like so much.

But Vin isn’t the only realistic one. This story has a decently-sized cast of significant characters, and each one approaches their insane mission with their own motives and (are you ready for this?) doubts. They aren’t all one hundred percent certain that what they’re doing is feasible, or even right. They doubt their methods and their abilities. Hell, they even doubt Kelsier, their leader:

And as the plot thickens, their doubts strengthen, affecting their interactions and their morale, doing wonderful things to the story’s tension. Man, I’m all up on this book.

Realism

Uprisings kind of tend to be complex situations, as a rule–and although Mistborn would have to be twice as long to really delve into the myriad details of such an uprising (thereby becoming pretty boring), it does the situation’s complexity justice. Not to keep beating up Crown Duel, but it really was far too simplistic in its approach to overthrowing an unfit ruler. Yes, Mel realized her plan was too simplistic and unrealistic. Yes, she had to attain the aid of someone closer to court politics. Yes, there was a hint about how the common people living closest to the king were less interested in rebellion than those in Mel’s distant county. But that was about the extent of it.

Mistborn, on the other hand, shows how the threat (and reality) of a skaa rebellion affects not only the people directly involved, but also the upper and lower classes’ daily lives, the empire’s economics, noble’s (and Ministries’) shady political maneuverings, and so on.

Take this, for example. Very early in the book, Camon (the leader of the skaa thieving crew whom Vin is indentured to) is in one of his characteristic bad moods:

Did you think all of the skaa would be frothing at the mouth for an uprising? They’re not. That would be too simplistic and unrealistic, not to mention dreadfully dull.

I absolutely adore books that pay attention to realism.

Do I have some issues with it? Yes. But they’re really just minor irritations in what’s otherwise a really fantastic book.

One, for example, is the absence of flowers. In this world, massive volcanoes have filled the skies with smoke and ash for (we assume) a thousand years, leaving the sun a hazy red orb and the stars invisible. The people battle to protect meager crops from the ash and a generally poor climate. Plants are brown (or occasionally yellow or red), and the very idea that plants can be green is laughable. Flowers, too, are a totally foreign concept. Yet fruit exists. 

Um.

There are a handful of details like this that don’t mean anything–don’t affect the characters or the plot at all–that nonetheless irritate, because they’re not explained.

Even worse, there’s one issue that does affect the plot. See, the magic system Kelsier and Vin use (to be super vague, sorry) in part involves being able to push and pull metal objects directly away or towards themselves. In straight lines. Not angles, not curves. Yet Kelsier manages to move things in directions other than directly toward or away from him, and this sets my eye atwitch. I mean, the book makes a big deal out of this particular limitation of the magic, and forgets it completely in a couple of key scenes.

Did these flaws ultimately affect my enjoyment of the book, though? No. Definitely not.

Let me conclude by confessing that Mistborn affected me more intensely than I’d anticipated; no lie, I sobbed.

I present this as proof that this book is truly great.

Hugs,

Liam

Spoiler Rating: Moderate

Why hello, Lizzy!

I’ve found a quick, enjoyable romance for you, featuring a girl after your own heart and some interesting identity-related issues. Care to hear about it?

Budding designer Lola Nolan doesn’t believe in fashion…she believes in costume. The more expressive the outfit–more sparkly, more fun, more wild–the better. But even though Lola’s style is outrageous, she’s a devoted daughter and friend with some big plans for the future. And everything is pretty perfect (right down to her hot rocker boyfriend) until the dreaded Bell twins, Calliope and Cricket, return to the neighborhood.

When Cricket–a gifted inventor–steps out from his twin sister’s shadow and back into Lola’s life, she must finally reconcile a lifetime of feelings for the boy next door.

Lola Has Ambition and a Clear Life Goal

Lizzy, I know you haven’t read Twilight, which is both unsurprising and a very good idea on your part–but if you had, you would’ve been making snarly faces at Bella’s apathy and lack of direction in life. You would’ve learned that she likes to read Jane Austen novels, but that’s about it. No thoughts of her future or dreams she’d like to pursue, no excitement about anything, really.

That’s not uncommon in YA protagonists, though. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of a single (modern-day high school) protagonist who knew exactly what she or he wanted to do post-graduation and couldn’t wait to do it. A lot of them don’t even think about college. Do authors believe that if a character is mentally and emotionally preparing herself for her future, the events that occur while she’s still in high school will be less emotionally/mentally significant than if she is focused solely on the here-and-now? If so, that’s silly. Stop it, authors. It comes across as lazy writing and character development, at the very least.

And I’m stepping away from the soapbox now.

Lola’s passion about costuming is exactly that: a passion that affects her daily life, and one that she’s eager to shape the rest of her life around. This is awesome.

She’s not the only person with a plan in this book. Her best friend knows exactly what she’s destined for and won’t let anyone (even the cute boy she’s crushing on) stand in the way of her future. Sexy Boy Cricket’s twin sister is a Olympic-hopeful figure skater who has been training since childhood for a gold medal. Even Sexy Boy Cricket, an inventor/engineer who feels his future has always taken second place to his sister’s, has a dream that he hopes to pursue. Even Lola’s bad-boy boyfriend is working hard to widen his rock band’s circuit to include more of California. As a result, all of these characters (uh, well, with the exception of that bad-boy boyfriend) read as much more fleshed-out than the general horde of futureless characters.

Let’s have more characters with passions and ambitions they’ll pursue beyond high school, shall we?

The Identity Issue

Cute romance though this book may be, it has more on its mind than getting its characters into prime smooching position; it has Major Identity Issues to burden Lola with.

Lola’s identity is an obvious focal point from the first page (where she describes her ideal dress for her school’s winter formal: all Marie Antoinette, complete with a fake bird in her hair, but with platform combat boots to show that even under the gaudy finery she’s still “punk-rock tough”), and plays a significant role in the story’s conflict(s) and, most dramatically, the story’s climax.

Subtle as a sledgehammer. But trust me, you’ll like it. (What’s not to like about a romance that has a dose of Serious Personal Issues at its heart?)

Lola’s Parents are Parents, Not “Gay Parents”

There’s a meme that’s been going around for a while that points out how (and I’m totally making these examples up off the top of my head because I don’t remember exactly what the meme says and am too lazy to delve into the abyss of the Internet to find it) a gay person doesn’t gay vote, they vote. They don’t gay swim, they swim. They don’t get gay married, they get married. Referring to marriage between gay people as “gay marriage” sets it apart from/subordinate to/less legitimate than marriage between straight people.

Lola’s parents are gay, but they aren’t “gay parents.” They’re parents. They’re loving, forgiving, protective, stern, and wonderful. And they just happen to be gay. It’s awesome that their sexuality is not an issue for anyone in the story, and that it’s clearly not supposed to be considered an issue for the reader, either.

Romance Stuff

Yep, the romance is pretty adorable.

And Other Conflicts, Too!

I’ve already mentioned the identity issue, but that’s not the only conflict Lola’s confronted with. In fact, the story’s full of conflicts that affect every aspect of Lola’s life (italics to emphasize how pleased this makes me): family issues, peer issues, friend issues, and (of course) romantic and identity issues, all competing for Lola’s attention simultaneously–and resulting in a much fuller and more realistic novel.

Two thumbs up.

In short: Lola is a fun, easy read, with good conflict, good writing, and some good characters. If that's what you're in the mood for, I'd definitely recommend picking it up

Hugs,

Liam

Spoiler Rating: Low

Lizzy!

When we were little things, I read Susan Cooper's The Dark is Rising series and nothing was ever the same. I can't remember if I found it in Bowie's library or if we read one of the books in class; all I know is I went around wide-eyed, waiting for magic and adventure and new worlds to open up and name me one of the Old Ones. (I was so ready for it.) Will's moment of flinging his hand out and freezing time is still one of the most vivid and powerful scenes I've ever read.

But, uh, that's not what I'm writing to you about now. I'm writing to you about The Raven Boys, which is essentially a more grown-up version of Cooper's The Dark is Rising series.

Honestly, Maggie Stiefvater is such a talented writer that just seeing her name makes my heart flutter. I'm fairly certain I emailed you an incoherent mess of praise and excitement about The Scorpio Races quite a while back, because it's definitely a Lizzy book and I knew you'd enjoy my incoherence. (Have you read the book yet? Goodreads seems to think you haven't.) Same author, same fantastic writing—but hopefully a more intelligible review on my end this time around.

“There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve,” Neeve said. “Either you’re his true love . . . or you killed him.”

 

It is freezing in the churchyard, even before the dead arrive.

 

Every year, Blue Sargent stands next to her clairvoyant mother as the soon-to-be dead walk past. Blue herself never sees them—not until this year, when a boy emerges from the dark and speaks directly to her.

 

His name is Gansey, and Blue soon discovers that he is a rich student at Aglionby, the local private school. Blue has a policy of staying away from Aglionby boys. Known as Raven Boys, they can only mean trouble.

 

But Blue is drawn to Gansey, in a way she can’t entirely explain. He has it all—family money, good looks, devoted friends—but he’s looking for much more than that. He is on a quest that has encompassed three other Raven Boys: Adam, the scholarship student who resents all the privilege around him; Ronan, the fierce soul who ranges from anger to despair; and Noah, the taciturn watcher of the four, who notices many things but says very little.

 

For as long as she can remember, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love to die. She never thought this would be a problem. But now, as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she’s not so sure anymore.

Oh, you don't think the synopsis suggests much complexity?

Well, you're right. The synopsis is kind of bland, with an emphasis on Blue's possible (and potentially lethal) love life, and only a shrugging acknowledgment of a quest and strangeness and whatever.

But—brace yourself—the synopsis is misleading. This isn't some poorly-written love pentagon/reverse harem starring Blue as the object of four boys' attentions while some supernatural stuff happens in the background. Hurrah!

Because (a) I've read it before, and (b) I don't want to spoil your reading experience, what follows shall be vague praise that hopefully will persuade you to read it yourself.


1. Blue (and Blue's Family)

• She's funny, confident, unconventional, and perturbed by her own sensibleness.
• She lives in a house full of psychically-gifted women, but has no gift herself.
• She's mostly okay with this, but is desperate to get a glimpse of magic in the world.

(Maura is Blue's mom, FYI.)

2. The Writing Style

• It's so crisp and vivid that I have to remind myself what I'm reading is fiction.
• Stiefvater covers in a few lines what other writers struggle to portray in pages.
• She dips into the poetic, but only slightly and in just the right places.

3. The Characters

• Each character has a distinct personality, voice, and point of view.
• They interact like real people. (Yes, italics-worthy levels of awesome.)
• They're all equally fascinating and full of surprises and promise and change.

4. The Plot

• Sure, there's some excellently-written, slow-building attraction going on.
• But it's really a quest story set in small-town Virginia and its surrounding forests.
• And it is wonderful.
  
  
  
  One of the raven boys, Adam, doesn't fit well in his Aglionby uniform; he's from a poor family, is embarrassed by his low-class Virginian accent, and works too hard to pay what his scholarship won't cover. He's also being raised by an abusive father.
  
  The abuse is occasionally hinted at and discussed, and a few times vividly portrayed, but it isn't sensationalized. He's not being abused because the book needed more angst. Instead, it's an intrinsic aspect of his character development and motivation—and the plot. Going back to the whole honest-portrayal-of-characters thing, this is one of the most moving and honest portrayals of an abuse survivor I've ever read.
  
  I don't want to give too much away, but let's say that Adam is awesome and full of surprises. (Well, in that regard he's quite like the rest of the raven boys.)
  
  
  This book was fantastic the first time I read it, and I loved it just as much the second time around. 
  
  

  The character arcs and plot development and climax were all just as powerful as I remembered them, and oh my goodness. I wish I could swaddle myself in Stiefvater's writing and stay there forever. I want to pet the pages as I read them. I want to shake Steifvater's hand. (Except I'd probably go all wide-eyed and manic and humiliate myself by forgetting to let go.)
  
  This is one of those books that spent quite some time wavering between four and a half stars and five stars. Five stars are reserved for books that have changed my life (like The Dark is Rising), and from just about the first page I knew it would have life-changing potential. And it has changed my life: this is now kind of my gold standard for writing style. I silently compare (whether I should or not) every other author's writing style to The Raven Boys, and would die happy if my own style could come close to it.

  
  Maybe I need to go lie down or something.
  
  I can't wait for your next email! With pictures, I hope!
  
  Liam

Spoiler Rating: High

So, Ashers,

Because I know you thick-in-the-midst-of-doctoral-exams folk have nothing to do but stare blankly out your windows all day, allow me to rant to you about a book that started off so promisingly, and left me a puddle of exasperation and disappointment: Crown Duel by Sherwood Smith.

It begins in a cold and shabby tower room, where young Countess Meliara swears to her dying father that she and her brother will defend their people from the growing greed of the king. That promise leads them into a war for which they are ill-prepared, a war that threatens the homes and lives of the very people they are trying to protect.

 

But war is simple compared to what follows, when the bloody fighting is done and a fragile peace is at hand. Although she wants to turn her back on politics and the crown, Meliara is summoned to the royal palace. There, she soon discovers, friends and enemies look alike, and intrigue fills the dance halls and the drawing rooms. If she is to survive, Meliara must learn a whole new way of fighting–with wit and words and secret alliances. In war, at least, she knew whom she could trust. Now she can trust no one.

My edition is the 2002 revised reprint, which contains the two original novels (Crown Duel and Court Duel) in a single binding, renamed Part One and Part Two. As you might suspect, Part One is the bloody-fighting half, and Part Two the court-intrigue half.

The Heroine, Mel

You’re as big a fan as I am of lady warriors who are more serious about their warrioring than making sure they look good in their armor, and allow me to assure you that Mel is exactly that type. Even though, admittedly, she’s not a good fighter.

She was raised in a crumbling castle by an absent father bent on avenging his wife’s murder (at the hands of King Galdran, who also happens to be taxing his people to death in order to raise an enormous army–as bad kings are wont to do), and so she grew up barefoot and wild, with war hanging over her head. To quote her brother:

She’s fierce, determined, and a compelling combination of bloodthirsty and innocent that’s totally sucked me in. Not to mention brave and self-sacrificing:

She’s also refreshingly honest about her own shortcomings, such as her ignorance about politics, she takes no credit for the good that her actions/mistakes lead to, and doesn’t accept flattery:

A realistic approach to her shortcomings isn’t the only thing I like about her character. Later, after a jealous lady intentionally gets Mel vomiting-drunk at a party (to make a fool of her, of course), Mel reacts thusly:

Instead of snubbing Tamara (thereby ruining Tamara’s prospects at court, somehow), Mel devises a more humane and diplomatic way of dealing with the other girl. Meanwhile, I’m giving Mel two thumbs up for her attitude and compassion, which is both endearing and realistically portrayed.

The Sexy Dude, the Marquis of Shevraeth

The Marquis of Shevraeth is a gentleman known for his taste in fine clothes and racehorses, but also possesses quite a knack for warfare.

Oh my goodness, Ashers, you are going to be so incredibly excited about Shevraeth.

Spoiler Rating: Low

Dear Lizzy,

You’re a woman in touch with her folksy roots, so you’ve probably heard the term “between the devil and the deep blue sea.” I hadn’t until I started reading this book; my Northerner grandma isn’t the type to use idioms, and my Southerner grandma isn’t the type to use idioms involving the devil.

I immediately thought of you when I saw this book. It’s said to have a Southern Gothic tone, and takes place in a small seaside community. Sounds like something you’d like, right?

Well. Maybe. Maybe not.

Nothing much exciting rolls through Violet White’s sleepy, seaside town…until River West comes along. River rents the guest house behind Violet’s crumbling estate, and as eerie, grim things start to happen, Violet begins to wonder about the boy living in her backyard. 

 

Is River just a crooked-smiling liar with pretty eyes and a mysterious past? Or could he be something more?

 

Violet’s grandmother always warned her about the Devil, but she never said he could be a dark-haired boy who takes naps in the sun, who likes coffee, who kisses you in a cemetery…who makes you want to kiss back. 

 

Violet’s already so knee-deep in love, she can’t see straight. And that’s just how River likes it.

The Writing Style

The book is written from Violet’s point of view, and her voice is disconcertingly choppy and lingering by turns, characterized by very short sentences and unnecessary/oddly-placed ellipses. It’s driving me slowly up a wall. Take, for instance, when Violet and River first see each other. He gets out of his car and looks towards her as if she’d called his name.

It does have its good moments, though! Take this bit, just after Violet’s told her neighbor/sort-of friend Sunshine that River’s moved in, and Sunshine’s made some sexual suggestions about River:

That’s pretty cute, if you ask me.

The Characters

Despite being our narrator, Violet is very flat, in large part due to the writing style. There’s a lot of dialogue, and the occasional random action (such as Violet removing a shoe to tap her toes on a stair step), but almost no indication of what Violet (or anyone else) is feeling. You know, facial expressions, body language, tone of voice, etc.

This is a pretty big flaw in a love story.

Sure, Violet tells the reader she feels the urge to kiss River, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Romance is all about emotions (especially the fluttery-and-tingly ones!), and I need to see those emotions if I’m going to believe the romance.

The dialogue is generally odd, too. Violet embarrasses herself by using the word “hence,” and thinks:

But Violet’s bookishness isn’t the problem here.

The characters all sound the same, have awkward conversations that move erratically from subject to subject, and sometimes address the reader rather than each other. Pretend we’re talking on the phone I say, “Hold on; my cat Sophie just spilled my coffee.” Seems innocent enough, right? Except you already know who/what Sophie is. I’d only say “my cat Sophie” if I wanted eavesdroppers to know that Sophie is a cat rather than a toddler or ferret or a particularly clumsy coworker.

Sunshine and Luke

(Freddie is Violet’s grandmother, by the way.)

Besides Violet and River, the characters we see most often are Violet’s brother Luke and their neighbor Sunshine. I have no idea why Luke and Sunshine are in the story, because they don’t actually do anything. I mean, sure. Sunshine’s curvy body and shameless flirting are constantly brought up to contrast Violet’s chaste ways and Hepburn-esque attire, but I don’t know why that contrast is necessary. It just reads as judgmental: how dare Sunshine have a curvy body and flirt with the guy she has a crush on?

Even when she’s eating brunch alone with River, Violet has to establish that she’s nothing like that harlot Sunshine:

I’m not a fan of this.

If it had a point, sure. If it was a well-crafted use of the virgin/whore theme in Christianity (to go along with the devil in the book’s title), sure. If it displayed some significant growth or change in Violet’s character, sure. But as it stands, Sunshine’s just an empty head with a pair of breasts while Violet is annoyingly self-righteous with a dash of insecure, and the story isn’t affected at all.

Oh, and here’s a sample of Luke for you, trying to impress River with his manliness:

Yeah. Laughing is always my first response when someone says something this horrifyingly misogynistic!

Luke later performs an about-face from jerk to caring brother, but I’m not sure why. I don’t believe his change any more than I do the attraction between Violet and River.

Speaking of:

River is not a charmer. He’s a liar, a murderer, an inconsiderate jerk who makes Violet feel stupid, and he’s using his powers (which he calls “the glow,” and which he’s addicted to) to numb her fears and inhibitions about him so she’ll sleep in the same bed with him.

No, seriously:

River responds by shrugging and saying he did it to calm her down. It was to help her, see?

(She was upset because she’d watched him kill someone, just so you know.)

Violet, of course, thinks this over and replies, “Well, I guess I have to believe you. You’re a liar. And yet I have to believe you. If I don’t believe you, then I have to do something about it. Like get you drunk and then drown you in the ocean before you get Jack killed.”

Oh, heaven forbid she actually have to listen to her gut and put as much distance between them as possible. Why do the reasonable thing when she has an excuse to keep smooching him?

And why does she choose the unreasonable/completely stupid route, every single time? Because she is attracted to him, yes, but also because he appears to be using his power to make her choose the latter.

Excuse me while I plant my head on my desk.

Oh, and then there’s this lovely bit, where River explains why he loves his brother Neely (FYI, River can “see” how people feel about him by the color the person associates with him):

Does he love his devoted brother because of who his brother is as a person? No, of course not. He loves Neely because Neely is so devoted to him. That sounds healthy! Just the kind of guy I want to be in a relationship with!

The Villain and Climax

Obviously, the book and I had a rocky start. And a rocky middle. And a rocky end. I never believed the attraction between Violet and River, which is a bit of a problem for a romance story. But, hey, it didn’t have the “You’re a jerk and a murderer? I shall love you unto eternity. Smooch me now” ending I was afraid it would!

As first books go, it sticks to the traditional YA paranormal romance formula fairly well:

• Awkward heroine with little/no parental supervision
• Mysterious boy with little/no parental supervision (and a supernatural power)
• Instant attraction!
• Girl gets increasingly suspicious about boy’s suspiciousness
• Boy angstily confesses to having supernatural powers
• Fear/attraction/angst!
• Boy argues that he’s too dangerous for her
• Girl refuses to listen because reasons
• Some last-minute villain arrives and is defeated

And, oh, the villain. (Who, admittedly, wasn’t exactly last minute; he was hinted at so obviously throughout the book that I was genuinely frustrated with the other characters for not realizing, hey, there’s a villain in town. But he only makes an actual appearance in the final couple chapters, which makes him feel last-minute.)

Anyway, he’s a fourteen-year-old Texan wearing, naturally, black cowboy boots, tight black jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a black cowboy hat. He introduces himself by saying, “The name’s Brodie,” and he consistently refers to Violet (who’s seventeen) as “ma’am.”

Maybe I’m just sensitive to overdrawn Texan stereotypes because I’m a sub/urban Texan living in New England, and I’ve had to deal with people’s disappointed expectations about Texas and me as a Texan. (This novel takes place in Maine, by the way.) Do you, as a rural Texan, get bothered by rural-Texan caricatures?

I was too distracted by my annoyance to determine if the threat he posed was genuinely scary. Holding a knife certainly wasn’t enough for me:

Yes, the use of rural vernacular is in keeping with the drippings of Southern Gothic elements used in the story–but because the story is set in New England, Brodie comes off as not only a caricature of a Texan, but an exoticized one as well. And despite being both insane and Super Texan, Brodie’s sentence structure and use of language manage to make him sound like everyone else in the book.

As for the whole virgin/whore thing I mentioned earlier, well, here’s Brodie’s description of meeting Sunshine:

Oh, the horror of a low-cut neckline!

Brodie has Sunshine’s parents beat her with a baseball bat, after which he asks Violet, “Is the little slut dead yet?” (The answer is no.)

Once Brodie’s been dealt with and order has been restored to the world, we’re told that Sunshine abandons her life of tight tops and insincere lip-licking in favor of physical fitness and wilderness survival. This is a change that Violet’s pleased about, of course, because moral reform is great, I guess? (Luke is also pleased about Sunshine’s change, but I don’t know why. He’d made it very clear–physically and verbally–that he was a big fan of Sunshine’s revealing clothes and ready kisses.)

I guess the moral here is if you have a curvy body and like to show it off, you’re going to be judged and beaten until you change your ways? Not quite sure.

As for the ending:

Violet and River don’t get their sappy, romantic “Smooch me now and forever” conclusion in this book, but there is a sequel; I suspect they’ll get that smoochy ending eventually.

But hope I’m wrong. I really, really hope that Violet recognizes that River is a Very Bad Idea and decides to live her life without him. Hey, this book does contain hints of Southern Gothic, and if there’s a genre that excels at leaving its protagonists unhappy in the face of brutal-but-necessary realizations, that’s the one! My fingers are crossed

Will I be reading the sequel? Yep, mainly because my hope for a suitably Southern Gothic ending is so strong. And debut novels are usually iffy, so perhaps the stylistic and issues I had with this one will start smoothing out in Between the Spark and the Burn.

I think I’ll conclude with one last Texas-related gem for you. Our sweet heroine Violet has just discovered a corpse, which shocked her greatly; this is her first encounter with Evil Texan Brodie, who’s playing the southern gentleman/innocent bystander. When Violet turns tail to leave the scene, Brodie makes this glorious comment:

Oh, yes. All those dead bodies we Texans step over whilst going about our daily business.

Lizzy, I nearly hurt myself snickering.

Love,

Liam

Spoiler Rating: Low

Hi Katie!

I’ve just read The Kingdom of Little Wounds. My reaction, in a single word: Wow.

Don’t misread my use of a period instead of an exclamation mark there; that is a very pregnant “wow,” not a sarcastic one.

On the eve of Princess Sophia’s wedding, the Scandinavian city of Skyggehavn prepares to fete the occasion with a sumptuous display of riches: brocade and satin and jewels, feasts of sugar fruit and sweet spiced wine. Yet beneath the veneer of celebration, a shiver of darkness creeps through the palace halls. A mysterious illness plagues the royal family, threatening the lives of the throne’s heirs, and a courtier’s wolfish hunger for the king’s favors sets a devious plot in motion.

 

Here in the palace at Skyggehavn, things are seldom as they seem — and when a single errant prick of a needle sets off a series of events that will alter the course of history, the fates of seamstress Ava Bingen and mute nursemaid Midi Sorte become irrevocably intertwined with that of mad Queen Isabel. As they navigate a tangled web of palace intrigue, power-lust, and deception, Ava and Midi must carve out their own survival any way they can.

Sounds not unlike your typical young adult political fantasy, right? A couple of young women with limited power thrown into courtly machinations, where they’ll surprise everyone with their inherent ability to navigate the dangers and make names for themselves. These are girls destined to end up as admired and respected heroines. You know, the usual. Right?

Nope. It’s a hundred times better.

It moved me to sobbing.

I don’t want to spoil the plot or character arcs for you, so let me just assure you that holy crap this book is powerful. Holy crap.

I could read Cokal’s writing style forever.

Cokal has officially been added to the (short) list of authors who make me reread every sentence, slowly, savoring each word. And in case you think I’m exaggerating: it took me three hours to get through the first forty pages.

This is how Cokal describes the dead princess, who’s been laid out for an examination by the physicians:

Do you see that? How she moves from gruesome reality to a beautiful fancy (even the sunlight adores the princess) to lovely details (the drape of exquisite cloth) and back into gruesomeness? That is this book. Cokal leads the reader straight into the most horrifying images, and I for one am ecstatic to be led, because the leading is so gorgeously executed.

(At one point I put my coffee down mid-sip because a particular sentence churned my stomach. I consider this a great success.)

Cokal’s research abilities are to die for.

You know how I always get swept away in my research of cultures and religions and land formation and historical events (and so on, forever) when I should just be writing my stories already? Cokal’s depth and application of research is what I aspire to. I have never read a young adult book so vividly set within its time and place, and I’m relishing every tiny detail.

And there are a lot of details. As a medical-scientist person, I know you’ll get a kick out of the development and use of what I’ll loosely describe as “medicine,” and the beliefs about what affects one’s health. (Poisonous star-gases conducted into the body via the eyes, especially dangerous.) Some choice advice from the physician for the man hoping to impregnate his wife:

Which reminds me of the fertility episode of the Sawbones: A Marital Tour of Misguided Medicine podcast, which I don’t remember if I’ve ever told you about. If I haven’t, I’m sorry. It’s amazing and you will love it.

But back to the book: tons of historically-accurate details. Even the typeface the book is printed in is historical; it’s called Bembo, and was designed in late 15th-century Venice. Each new piece of evidence that Cokal really knows the intricacies of life in 16th-century Scandinavia makes my detail-obsessed heart skip a beat.

Which leads me to:

This book is brutal(ly honest), and not for everyone.

I do tend to get frustrated and annoyed by the number of fantasy books out there, adult and young adult both, that whip up an idealized version of, say, 12th-century England and populate it with characters formed by 21st-century preconceptions of what 12th-century people were like. You know what I’m talking about: everyone bathes regularly, the clothes are all wrong, and too many people have horses and their own private beds.

The Kingdom of Little Wounds approaches everything about its setting and its people with utmost honesty–from the bugs plaguing everyone to the king who is always attended while he evacuates his bowels (he gets the gold medal for Crohn’s disease, by the way).

So why isn’t this book for everyone? Because the portrayal of the servant girls’ powerlessness in the face of sexual abuse is also unflinchingly honest, and it’s certainly going to turn some readers away.

What’s this book most visibly concerned with? Well, Here are the first two sentences/paragraphs, which’ll clue you in:

 

Killing it on the hook there, Cokal.

So what do we have?

• Someone doomed to death
• A servant
• A servant standing in a blatantly submissive/helpless posture
• Someone (of high rank) falling apart
• Someone (of high rank) falling apart while no one moves to help her

See a common thread here yet? I thought so.

TKoLW is about power/lessness in a big way. Too big and complex a way to really do any justice to in a letter, for sure. So let me just sketch out the two aspects I think you’ll be particularly interested in.

Point the First: Language

So here you have your two viewpoint characters: Ava, the illiterate seamstress whose tongue runs away with her, and Midi, the (secretly) literate maid whose native language has been lost to her, and whose tongue was mutilated to prevent her from saying a man’s name. (Not one of my favorite scenes.)

These young women live in a world where the powerful have language at their disposal and the weak are expected to be silent. Their home is a palace full of servants who communicate amongst themselves in voices that nobles are unable (too proud, too accustomed to forgetting that servants exist) to hear. It’s a kingdom shaped by secrets and lies–and yeah, as gorgeous as the court itself is, with its elaborate tapestries and bright jewels and goblets made of spun sugar, the kingdom is not a beautiful place to live, regardless of your rank.

Of course, I don’t mean to say the weak actually are silent–or even that they’re weak. If there’s something else this book loves, it’s subversion.

As just a quick and non-spoilery example: Midi and Ava both use language in their own quietly powerful ways to cope with the ugliness of their lives. Midi writes her story down in all its gritty details, reclaiming herself and her life in the process, while Ava tries to escape into fairy tales. She soothes herself, her fellow maids, even the dying royal children with stories of princesses overcoming evil after brutal, seemingly endless trials. But Ava isn’t as comforted as she’d like to be:

A wavering edge of hopefulness versus acceptance of grim reality is everywhere in the story, and it is fantastic.

Point the Second: Women’s Bodies

Oh, goodness. Women’s bodies are not their own.

From the very first page, the royal ladies are described as objects possessed by the kingdom: they are the “kingdom’s treasure,” and their bodies “must be protected like a relic shut in a box.” How beautifully dehumanizing!

Even better, female bodies are specifically controlled by men. Take that doomed-to-die princess, for example. She’s twelve and preparing to be married off at the beginning of the story. Her mother believes she’s too young to marry (to say nothing of the horror of marrying a Swede), but Princess Sophia has started menstruating and therefore deemed a fit bride by her father.

Turns out, though, that the king had paid his chief physician very well to “shake those courses free from Sophia’s womb.” Way to manipulate your child’s body for the sake of political alliance, King! Well done!

And boy does Queen Isabel have a difficult time of it when her body is in the same room as a physician. During her regular gynecological examinations (so vividly, cringe-inducing-ly described), a sheet bisects Isabel’s body so the physicians cannot see her face as they inspect her genitals–removing the person from the body and the body from the person–and she is strictly forbidden to speak. (Sound familiar?) Of course, when Isabel does break tradition and address the three physicians during an examination, this happens:

That’s right. Ladies speaking out of turn are about as alarming as farting or peeing on your gynecologist.

And, yes, there is a lot of sexual abuse. It’s as factually described as Isabel’s exams and the dying children’s oozing, crusting sores, because it is as much a fact of the maids’ lives as the invasive exams are part of Isabel’s life, and their diseased bodies part of the children’s lives.

These women have little to no power over their bodies; they exist in them, and what happens to them must be endured. But because these horrors (abuse, inspection, disease, control) are so common, so generally accepted as the norm, they are not as traumatizing to the characters as they would be to the book’s modern audience.

Still, I can easily see why there are so many readers out there who couldn’t finish the book.

Yep, I highly recommend this book–to people who’re interested in dark stories and who can stomach the sexual abuse. Not a book for everyone, but it’s fantastic inside and out for its chosen audience.

Will I rush out and buy my own copy? Gorgeous as it is (so gorgeous!), the answer is no. The writing is superb, the characters vivid, the plot and theme powerful–but this isn’t a kingdom I want to visit, these aren’t people I want to become friends with, and their story isn’t uplifting enough to make me feel particularly good after reading it.

But I do love it, in this awed, cringing way, and I know others will love it too.

Scritch the cats for me,

Liam

Spoiler Rating: Moderate

Hi Ashers!

I’m not going to lie; I’d intended to write you multiple letters about this book, updating you on my opinions as I read. That would’ve required me to display some restraint, though, and put the book down long enough to write you.

Whoops.

Four decades of peace have done little to ease the mistrust between humans and dragons in the kingdom of Goredd. Folding themselves into human shape, dragons attend the court as ambassadors and lend their rational, mathematical minds to universities as scholars and teachers. As the treaty’s anniversary draws near, however, tensions are high.

 

Seraphina Dombegh has reason to fear both sides. An unusually gifted musician, she joins the court just as a member of the royal family is murdered in suspiciously draconian fashion. Seraphina is drawn into the investigation, partnering with the captain of the Queen’s Guard, the dangerously perceptive Prince Lucian Kiggs. While they begin to uncover hints of a sinister plot to destroy the peace, Seraphina struggles to protect her own secret, the secret behind her musical gift–one so terrible that its discovery could mean her very life.

The top three reasons this book was written for you are:

1. The dragons
1a. The shapeshifting dragons
1b. The shapeshifting dragons who’re more interesting than your typical shapeshifting dragons

2. The protagonist
2a. She’s hiding a dangerous secret that you’ll be excited about
2b. She’s prickly, brave, mature, and–best of all–a musician by trade

3. The writing style
3a. It’s a quick but engrossing read
3b. It gives glimpses of a sense of humor that’s genuinely funny

Also, the cover has fake blood smears on it. I know you like that.

And not only are there shapeshifting dragons and a court musician heroine, there’s a smexy prince/captain smexing it up all over. Well, it’s all very PG, but what it’s missing in darkened-hallway/under-the-table antics it makes up for with just the right touch of he’s-engaged-to-the-princess angst.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a romance; it’s a story about a musician trying to save her kingdom without endangering her own life, and features two characters who happen to develop feelings that they really shouldn’t have.

And I am a serious fan of those feelings. Their relationship progresses at just the right pace–slowly–with some really fantastic, twinge-inducing scenes that I’m tempted to just copy here word for word, except that’d spoil your twinges when you read the story yourself.

Of course, the state of their relationship at the end of the book has left me in mild despair over the sequel‘s release date. March 2015, in case you were wondering. Ages away.

I don’t want to go into the plot because, you know, spoilers, but one thing I’d like to praise is Hartman’s slow reveal of information. She could’ve explained key aspects of certain characters in a few words when they’re first introduced, but does she? Nope. She drops the occasional hint first, and lets the reader be surprised (if they hadn’t figured it out) or smug (if they had).

But on to the dragons.

You know how most shapeshifting dragons seem right at home in their human bodies, or at least adapt quickly? Not these. They’ve built their society and personal identities on a foundation of Logic Over Emotion, which wasn’t difficult for them to do because they don’t experience emotions the way humans do.

So what happens when they shift into human form? They’re overwhelmed by all these terrifying, disgusting feelings. They’ve developed meditation techniques intended to help them survive in human shape, but they have a Board of Censors tasked with spying on and secretly testing dragons who spend a lot of time in human form, searching for signs that they’re experiencing an unacceptable amount of feelings. Any dragon condemned by the Board of Censors is promptly lobotomized.

Yep.

The book also had a hint of interesting commentary on the status of women in this society (women with questionable morals get stuffed in sacks and thrown in the river; menstruation is viewed as monstrous), homosexuality in this society (the two homosexual characters are allies of Seraphina’s, but their relationship made me a little uncomfortable due to a marked age and power disparity; hopefully that relationship is better developed in the second book), and self-harm generally (the two brief depictions of self-harm were powerfully written).

There were a few little things that made my eye twitch when I came across them, but I don’t think they’ll bother you as much as they did me:

The Ardmagar’s character “arc”

The Ardmagar is the leader of the dragons, the one who signed the peace treaty with the human queen forty years before the book takes place. He’s not one of the most important or prominent characters in the story, but let’s just say he demonstrates some very abrupt changes that didn’t ring true to me.

Some things about Seraphina

1. Her Age

In general, Seraphina reads like she’s a highly-experienced twenty-six, not a fresh-faced sixteen. She’s transplanted from an isolated and fairly responsibility-free life in her father’s home to a position of huge and exhausting responsibility at court, and she handles everything with the brisk and competent maturity of someone who’s been performing those duties for years. Also, she explicitly views and describes Princess Glisselda (who is fifteen, by the way) as a “young girl,” which seems pretentious coming from someone only a year older.

I don’t think the story would’ve fallen apart if Seraphina were, say, eighteen or nineteen. It’d be more believable, and the book would still qualify for the YA market.

2. Her Monstrosity

Throughout the story, Seraphina views herself as physically monstrous, but once or maybe twice she accuses herself of being monstrous internally: “I almost snapped at him, almost played the monster in earnest as only I could play it.”

This suggests that she’s struggling with the belief that she’s inherently capable of inhuman levels of cruelty and viciousness, right? That’s why she says “in earnest” and “as only I could play it.”

But outside of this sentence and maybe one other, she never gives any indication that she believes this about herself; in fact, she generally seems very content with herself as a person.

There’s a disconnect between the self-accusation in this sentence and her opinion of herself (as demonstrated throughout the rest of the book) that is incredibly jarring. If she believes that she is naturally capable of being as monstrous inside as out, I want to see that throughout the story, not just in a sentence or two. That would’ve been an interesting aspect of her character to play up.

3. Unnatural Interactions

Kiggs repeatedly tells Seraphina how brave, smart, and generally awesome she is, and Seraphina without fail scoffs at him. These exchanges seem more for the reader’s benefit–an attempt to show why Kiggs develops feelings for Seraphina–than a natural outcome of Kiggs’s personality or their situation.

In short: hurry up and read this book.

Hugs,

Liam