Bibliophage
Icky Reads… and ReviewsDon’t Trust Elves
Before we get down to business, I just want to say thank you to those that visit. Also, Aloha, thank you for subscribing.
Now that I’ve said thank you, let’s get on to why we are presumably all here; books. First up today is Simon R. Green’s The Good, The Bad, And the Uncanny. Yes, that is a reference to a Eastwood movie. No, there is not a bounty hunting scam. Rather, Uncanny is set in Green’s Nightside, which is a “square mile” in the heart of London where it’s always 3 AM and anything goes. Let me emphasise: Anything. Goes. Everything you’ve ever wanted and never thought you’d find; anything that will condemn you to the Pit or send your mind to paradise; every abhorrent addiction, dreadful drink, and favorite food, and fallen god. It all can be found in the Nightside, if you’re willing to pay. If you can’t pay… Well, the best thing that could happen then is for you to be kicked out. Most likely, one of four things will occur:
- You’ll be put to work;
- You’ll be killed;
- You’ll by put to work, then killed; or
- You’ll be killed, then put to work.
And yes, they can.
So in this wonderful, dreadful world, who are the protagonists? What else, but wonderfully dreadful people! There’s John Taylor, a.k.a John Bloody Taylor, private detective and lead protagonist. He specializes in finding things by way of his Third Eye; which allows him to see reality as it truly is. Not the best ability in a city of monsters. His favorite party trick is to teleport bullets from a guns magazine and chamber into his hand.
Next up in the rogues gallery is Suzie Shooter, a.k.a Shotgun Suzie, a.k.a. “Oh God, it’s her! Run!” As you might have guessed, she kills things at a professional level. Technically, she’s a bounty hunter; but that’s just an excuse. She enjoys her job, and is quite good at it.
Speaking of killing, over here is the Punk God of the Straight Razor himself, Razor Eddie. He used to be a filthy, violent man that did terrible things to people. Now, he’s a filthy, violent man that does terrible things to bad people. He’s on our side 
And pulling all their strings is Walker. Now the thing to remember is that Walker isn’t just personally dangerous, but because of the power invested in him by the Authorities, he can call on anyone for aid when he needs it. US Army Rangers? Sure. The Vatican? Just a phone call away. Tentacled Horror from Beyond the Outer Reaches? Just let him get a patsy right quick. Walker is personally charged with preserving the status quo of the Nightside, and will do whatever it takes to achieve that goal. The only problem is this: If Walker was a triage surgeon, he’d be just as likely to remove your foot as give you antibiotics for a cut. If you complained, he might just take the leg up to the knee.
With the stage set, and the actors waiting, what is the story? Simply, Walker is dying and needs someone to take over his job. Taylor would do nicely, in his estimation. After all, Taylor has a reputation of being one of the most distressing people in the Nightside; and he’s occasionally worked for Walker, so you know he’s not unreasonable. It could work.
Now, before we go further, do know that this is not a book for children. People are run over, exploded, beat to a pulp, hacked up, and have their dental work forcibly extracted with no anaesthetic. I don’t remember any F-bombs, but most obscenities get air time. As far as sensuality goes; one girl is “obviously braless,” and you’re invited to share a bad mental image that isn’t described. And if this paragraph is something you worried about, you’ll be glad to know that the Church is portrayed in a positive light. Rogue vicars, not so much, but Christianity is golden.
So, the questions. Would I reread this? I would have to say no. As much fun as the Nightside books are, they are eminently dispensable. There is no overarching mystery (left), no moral lessons to learn. All you get is a guy taking a stand for his clients, and letting the rest of the world go hang. While you may take some of that away, if you haven’t by now (book 10), you probably aren’t going to.
Would I recommend this to a friend? If they don’t mind the good old ultra-violence, sure. As I said they’re fun reads as long as you don’t expect too much from them.
And finally, am I glad I’ve read it? You see, it’s at this point that things get complicated. On the one hand you have John Taylor, a man that scares the crap out of a city where half the businesses would shred your sanity. On the other, it was with this book that I realized that Green tends to beat you over the head with ideas. You’re told that elves are duplicitous at least four times in the first half of the book, by at least four characters. If the opening wasn’t enough to convince you that the Nightside runs on sin, he’ll be sure to repeat it at least three more times throughout the story. But still, the quirks of the Nightside; and the amount of things Taylor gets away with are enough to make up for it in my book.
So overall, The Good, The Bad, And The Uncanny receives 2/3.
Crap. Another 900+ word post.
Sequels
Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m a soft touch. If someone on the street asks for money, I’ll give them my spare cash. I’ll give a girl another chance if she stands me up on a date; ’cause hey, maybe something went wrong and she was unable to call me. An author seems to be missing something, I’ll read their next book, see if they pick it up.
Thus are we come to today’s two books: D.M. Cornish’s Lamplighter, and Rachel Neumeier’s Land of the Burning Sands. If you’ve been keeping up, you know that I’ve read one book previously by each of them ( Foundling, and Lord of the Changing Winds), and in both cases came away with mixed feelings. Both have a very detailed world to draw from and they make the most of it. In Lamplighter, it is the storied history of the Half-Continent that provides the backdrop, while…
… Well, this is embarrassing. I seem to have given away my copies of Neumeier’s books, and can’t find the name of the countries online. Well, blast. Point from me.
… I was going to give my thoughts on both concurrently, but given that embarrassment, I’ll just do Burning Sands first. Onward and upward:
1. Am I glad I read this book? Yes. There are times when it strains belief, but it’s generally a good time. The main character is Gereint Enseichen; slave, former maker, and part-time natural philosopher. He escapes from his master by means of the desert created by the bargain struck at the end of the first book. Also appearing is the Lady Tehre, natural philosopher, maker, and genius.
Just a quick note. When I say they are makers, I don’t mean they’re blacksmiths, pounding away at iron. Though such a person could be a maker, there is more to it. A maker purposes things. If a maker and a smith each made a knife, the maker’s would last longer, be better fitted, and hold a better edge because he convinced the iron to share his intent: that it be a knife.
Essentially, Tehre is a mechanical engineer, specialising in stress testing. She builds things to break them. And the part that makes her so much fun is the amount of focus she has. More aptly, how obsessed she is. As the adage goes, when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. Tehre has a sledgehammer, and the world is filled with brick walls. And, of course, the freaking language barrier. Look for it.
2. Would I recommend this to a friend? This is a tough one, because to get this one, they’d have to read the first one; and that’s kind of iffy. If, on the other hand, they had already read the first, this is a pretty solid read. In Lord of the Changing Winds, what struck a sour note with me was the lack of depth beyond the two primary characters. I’m glad to say that is not the case here, as the closest Neumeier comes to a cookie-cutter character is Tehre. Sure, she’s a geek and not very good with people; but she know this and hire retainers to remind her of the social graces. So… yes. I would.
3. Do I intend to reread it? All in all, no. While my opinion of it increased while writing this, it didn’t go up enough to make me truly lament its loss. Also there are a couple of time where the power levels of certain characters defy belief. I can’t really tell you without getting into massive spoilers, but it’s insane.
All in all, Rachel Neumeier’s Land of the Burning Sands gets two of three, and somehow is still better than the first.
E Reader?
So I’m taking a survey over what features people would put in an e-reader, if they designed one. Leave a comment, let me know.
Foundling
So before I begin reading Lamplighter, I thought I’d do a little blog about its predecessor, Foundling by D.M. Cornish. What’s it about, you ask? It’s the tale of Rossamund Bookchild, an orphan in Madame _____’s Maritime Society. He’s roughly 13 years old, and not too happy with his life. And honestly, you can’t blame him. The book opens with him being beat up in a stick fighting class because he’s small and has a girl’s name. After a while he is selected to become one of the Emperor’s lamplighters, a group that patrol the highways at dusk, lighting globes to light the path. Sounds exciting, doesn’t it? Yep, that’s just how much Rossamund was looking forward to joining them. He was part of a maritime society! He was supposed to be a sailor on the vinegar seas, not a lamplighter. But, a sailor does his duty, and so Rossamund departs.
So, here’s the thing. I like this story: Cornish does a good job building his world; you really get the sense Rossamund’s innocence, despite the bullying he endures; and the “us vs. them” mentality is quickly fostered by the monster stories he reads. The only problem is the ending. Foundling ends with Rossamund listing all the things he’s worried about just before he goes to sleep. Ordinarily, I have no problem with some things being left up in the air at the end of a book, Waking the Witch comes to mind, but a forced cliffhanger brought about by a summation of the unresolved issues in the book? You can almost hear the narrator telling you that “All this and more! Next time, in Lamplighter!” All it does is tell you that these books were not meant to stand on their own. It feels like it you’re meant to turn directly from the end of Foundling to page one of Lamplighter. Only, after looking at page one of Lamplighter, you aren’t. It picks up about two months after the end of book one, and you feel as though you missed a book. Possibly two, since most of the first takes place in a week.
I’m not sure if this bothers me enough to dissuade me from recommending this. There’d definitely be caveat, ’cause, frankly, that ending sucks. Nor am I particularly glad I read it. In the end, Cornish’s Foundling gets 1/3. Man.
How Many Miles?
All right, I’ll admit. I haven’t finished all the books I got in the 2 for $10 sale. That being said, I have been reading. This time around the book is Seanan McGuire‘s An Artificial Night. Once more, it is a book in the October Daye series, and once more, it was an amusing diversion. For those just joining us, October “Toby” Daye is a changeling living in San Francisco, with all the benefits and drawbacks that entails. Really, it’s just drawbacks. I mean, sure, she’s a knight errant, but all that really means is that she’s proven herself capable of barely surviving things that would kill most people. Yes, she knows fairies are real, but that is it’s own penalty; as fairies are, well, fey. They are intrinsically inhuman and other. Leaving alone the Luidaeg (Lou-sha-k), there’s the Gean-Cannah, a race that drive their lovers into a suicidal depression; and the Daoine Sidhe that read memories in blood. Long story short, many fairies are inimical to humanity, which may be why we attempted a purge a while back.
Here’s a refresher on the last book. Now that you’re up to speed (Whee!), here’s what’s happening: It’s been four years since the events of A Local Habitation, and Toby has been quietly doing her job as a private investigator. An Artificial Night opens with Toby rounding up a group of Barghests, just in time to head to a birthday party for one of her best friends children. Since a quiet life makes for boring reading, something is bound to go wrong. And it does. The next day, two of her friends kids go missing, along with a few from the court of Cats and her young friend’s girlfriend. After another fun filled, fact finding quest she determines that the culprit is none other than Blind Michael. It seems that once every hundred years, when the number of riders in his hunt dwindles, he goes out to find replacements among the children of fae and humanity. The human children Michael turns into mounts, and the fae he makes into his riders. Neither is a process that would elicit celebration; as Blind Michael twists the very nature of the children he takes until they suit his needs. The good news is that he tends to stretch out the shift over the months of September and October, so Toby has some time to effect a rescue. The bad news is that she’ll have to ask a favor of the Luidaeg, one of the most feared beings in all of Faerie, and Blind Michael’s sister. Still, a monster is a monster, whomever they’re related to.
That’ll get you about a hundred pages in, and a fairly good idea of what happens in the story. So what’s my reaction? It’s been a while since I read it, so let’s start with the questions.
Would I recommend this to a friend? Yes. Once more it’s a “if they ask” recommendation, not a “you should read this.” I might reread this at a later date, once all the things that have piled up are taken care of (The Sea Change, Robin Hobb’s Shaman’s Crossing, and a few others). Am I glad I read it? Yes. As I’ve said before (if not, this counts twice), I enjoy the characters. Toby in particular can be quite endearing. Tybalt, of course, is just insanely cool and so laid back it’s almost unreal. “Almost” because he is the local King of Cats and thus has about 10 extra points of composure strictly from his feline heritage. Sylvester … Sylvester almost made me cry. when he loaned Toby his sword. I don’t want to give to much away* on the off chance that you rely on me for recommendations (I don’t know why you would), but as she stood there watching him walk away I remember thinking “It’s about time.”
*I know. I tell you about half the plot, but won’t tell you what Duke Sylvester said that caused me to tear up? Where’s the consistency? It’s here: I won’t go into details if I think those details are important. Details of Fae culture? While germane, not terribly relevant to the story. Asking a favor of the Luidaeg? It seems to be a pattern that’s developed over at least the last two books, if not across all three. Toby’s moderate density? Again, it’s been developed throughout the series; so if there’s a question with an obvious answer, I may just call her on it.
So finally, to my one reader, thank you, and I will be back.
-Icky
“The Thrill is Gone”
So I’m sitting here, wondering where to start in my comments on Patricia Briggs‘ Wolfsbane. The obvious answer is with the questions, but they are all yeses. Yes, I’m glad I read it, I will reread it, I would give it to a friend to read. What did I like about it? It’s bloody Patricia Briggs.
… Which leads to an interesting thought: Is there a Briggs novel that I didn’t like? Yes. While I love the Mercy Thompson books, most of her earlier works don’t resonate as well. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike them; but I don’t feel as strongly for the protagonists. It may very well be that I haven’t spent as much time with them. I mean, we’ve had seven books to get to know that Mercy’s world and it’s characters (I’m including the Alpha and Omega series since it takes place in the same universe). After that setting, the most books take place in Sianim, with much looser cohesion due to the fact that prior to the printing of Wolfsbane, no two books had the same cast. Not that there is anything wrong with separate stories or multiple heroines, but you can sympathize more with a character you already know and like.
Anyway, I like most of her work after about 2004 better than that preceding. But back to the matter at hand, what do I like about Wolfsbane that made me so ecstatic? Aralorn. Aralorn was fun. And while Wolf/Cain isn’t “fun,” per se, I do enjoy his character. Aralorn’s family is just about perfect, almost unnaturally so; and the new ae’Magi is hilariously flamboyant. Yeah, looking back, it really is just about everything in the book.
Phage
Given the frequency with which I update this blog, and how that reflects on my reading speed, one may wonder why I call it Bibliophage. In answer, I give today. While I was at the mall picking up a few things, I came across Wolfsbane, by Patricia Briggs. I immediately purchased it, and began to read it as I walked home. I finished it a moment ago. The only time I put it down was to wash my hands, and to select food. Now that I’ve finished it, I must say here what I realized a few months ago.
Patricia Briggs in on my list of authors whose books I will buy automatically.
More when I come down from the high. Um, the “I just finished a good book, and can’t think coherently… God damn, that was awesome!” high.
A Local Habitation
Seanan McGuire‘s A Local Habitation is the second of the books I purchased that weekend of awesomeness, and is the second book in her October Daye series. Yes, the protagonist’s name is October. Yes, her mother is crazy. Her mother is also Fae, which could explain even more than mere insanity. For, gentle reader(s), October (Toby to her friends) is a changeling, a half-human descendant of the Summer Lands that inherits a portion of her parents power. Putting her farther outside the norm is the fact that Toby is a knight of her Duchy, and lives outside of its… enclave.
One day, Toby’s liege asks her to investigate a lack of communication from his nieces County. It may be a sign of an attempt to take control by the Duchess on the opposite border, who wasn’t best pleased when the County of Tamed Lightning was formed, or it may be nothing. After convincing the niece (henceforth, Jan) that she might be who she says she is, Toby sets to work.
One of these days, I’ll read a book where someone is sent to investigate, and it’s just the phone lines. Not today. For in Tamed Lightning, Jan’s employees have begun to die. It’s just a small thing, a couple of cuts on the wrists and neck, seemingly nothing fatal. And yet, there they are, three deaths in the past two months with no explanation, and no response from the Duke.
In Proven Guilty, Dresden says that trying to get a straight answer from a fairy is like “pulling teeth. Your own teeth. Through your nose.” If you want an example of exactly how bad it is, A Local Habitation will do well. At every point, for every question, the employees of Tamed Lightning either lie, mislead, or withhold information. The only reason they tell a trained investigator that is asking “Is there something wrong?” about a couple of murders, is that another one occurred with Toby there.
Other helpful hints that would have made this book so very much shorter (major spoiler):
- The dryad is housed in a server tree.
- The guy you’re hanging out with is the same changeling as his “sister”
- The first victim was the local Queen of Cats
- You know, those marks on the victims look an awful lot like the interface ports of the project we’ve been working on.
That being said, I’m kind of glad they weren’t helpful, as if the book was too short I’d have felt cheated out of the five bucks I spent.
Money and unhelpful Fae aside, on to the questions!
First off, would I recommend this to a friend? I recently realized that there are varying levels of recommendation. Authors like Gaiman, Butcher, Pratchett and Sanderson I will espouse whole-heartedly, sometimes without you asking for a recommendation. Umberto Eco would get an “Eh… Yes, but be warned…” The October Daye books, you’d have to ask about.
Next, am I glad I read it? Yes. As you can probably guess by the fact that I prefer fantasy novels, I tend to enjoy fairy tales. It might be something left over from my childhood, or it might just be the escapist nature of them, but a good fairy tale has a easier time sneaking into my heart. One of the things I like about the October Daye books is that Ms. McGuire includes a pronunciation guide at the start, complete with the plural forms.
Yes, I’m a geek. I thought we had established this.
Lastly, will I be rereading this? Honestly, if I ever do, it won’t be for a while. One thing I tend to do when it has been a while since the first time around is reread books before going on to the sequel. I didn’t feel the need with Rosemary and Rue (book one), and I don’t see that changing for future books. That said, I do want to read the rest of the series, but it’s not really an imperative for me.
All in all, I’d give it a 6.5 or 7 out of 10.
Change?
So last weekend Hastings had a two for ten dollars sale on paperbacks under $8.99. Bibiliophage that I am, I got four; a couple that I’ve been meaning to read for a while, and two others that, for five bucks, I thought I’d give a shot. The first one that I read was Rachel Neumeier’s Lord of the Changing Winds, one of the latter. What got my attention was the end of the blurb, which read”[b]ut what the griffins need is a healer who is not quite human… or a healer who can be made into something not quite human.” Reading that, my thought was that they turn Kes (the “heroine”) into a griffin, but such is not to be. It turns out that Kes is a mage that is just about to come into her power, and if she reaches for another element before earth, that’s the one she will be attuned to. Since griffins are creatures of fire, that’s what they need from her.
I know that seems like a spoiler, but you find that out in about five chapters.
So how does it fare against the questions? Well, for one thing, I will be giving this to my sister to read, since I want her opinion of something I’ll outline later. Further, I will be rereading it to see how closely it adheres to a certain form.
Finally, am I glad I read it? That’s the rub. You see, when I first read it I greatly enjoyed it. Kes was… Interesting. To begin with, she comes across as a little fey; and that only gets stronger as the story progresses. The young lord Bertaud started off a bit stiff, but by the end of the book he was my favorite character. Rounding out the “real” characters is the titular Kairaithin; griffin, mage, and Lord of the Changing Winds. Everyone else seems like a place holder; stereotypes that have been tweaked a bit to fit this particular go-round. You have the well-intentioned older sister, the “farm boy,” the town innkeeper, the town inn, etc. The world, on the other hand, has enough history to feel real. There’s politics from age-old concerns, petty concerns, and rivalries.
And that’s where the problem comes in. It seems like Ms. Neumeier has known her world for a while, but is only discovering the inhabitants as she writes about them. If it stays like this, I imagine it will get pretty frustrating trying to reconcile a potentially rich world with sparse characters. Also, I realized that Kes’s defining characteristic is her otherness. It starts out with her being a mage on the cusp of her powers, and then shifts to a dawning horror that the fire she channels is purging her humanity. I hate myself for even saying this, but for a while, that fey aspect of her character put me in mind of Bella Swan.
Yes, I do know who that is. Yes, I wish I didn’t.
So while it smacks lightly of Twilight, Changing Winds has enough differences that I don’t snarl every time I think of it. In fact, after thinking through it, I still like it, and am glad I read it. If nothing else, I like the world Ms. Neumeier created.
Thus, after much musing, Rachel Neumeier’s Lord of the Changing Winds receives a trio of yeses. While not resounding, they are there, making it a solid read. For me, anyway.
It’s Alive!
To keep this thing moving, I’ve decided to alter the format a bit. Instead of posting every two, three, or four books, I’ll instead be trying for every book. The only time I shall stretch it to two is if one of them is just plain uninteresting. So, with that in mind, let’s try to catch up.
“Today’s” topic is Neil Gaiman‘s The Graveyard Book. While it has been two years since it was published, there are people out there that lead insular lives (why they’d be reading my blog, I don’t know), and may not know what it’s about. An interesting way to look at it is as a retelling of Batman’s origin. Instead of Alfred Pennyworth, he gets Silas; Gotham is a literal ghost town; and his parents are killed not when he’s a pre-teen, but when he’s 18 months. Now that you have a very general idea, let’s get down to brass tacks. One night, a man sneaks into a house, and kills three people: a mother and father, and their daughter. His true prey, however, is the young son in the nursery upstairs. He goes to kill him, and finds a teddy bear in the crib. The child in question has trundled off up the hill, coming to rest in the abandoned graveyard at its crest.
Now, if you’ve read any number of horror stories, you know that there are things that live among the bodies of the dead; discarded souls, monsters, demons, and old gods sometimes haunt cemeteries. It is an old pair of ghosts that find the boy, and take him in as a part of their family, giving him the name Nobody.
I feel like there should be a peal of thunder over that occasion.
And so ‘Bod’ grows up, like any normal boy living among graves. He learns to Fade from sight, visit terror, and pass through stone and hedge. He plays with ghosts, befriends a dead witch, and makes one human friend, Scarlett Amber Perkins. As far as he knows, the only thing wrong is that someone, somewhere, wants to kill him.
And now, it’s time for the questions. First off, I’m always glad to have read something by Gaiman; even if not for its own sake (I’m not really a fan of Stardust). His works seem to ring true, so I’m always happy to read them. In this case, I really like The Graveyard Book. It doesn’t have a perfect ending, where Scarlett and Bod fall madly in love, get married, and occasionally visit his friends in the graveyard. There’s loss, and pain, the certainty that Bod will one day find his own graveyard. But until then, he will Live.
Oddly, I never really thought what an accomplishment that is. We all go about our lives, and at times it might not seem such a big deal; but when you look back, what you’ve made looks grander than it did at the time. Or, when you look forward to looking back. I’m not sure I’m making sense.
Since this was a reread, that answers the second question, and I would definitely recommend this to a friend. Provided they like this sort of thing. I’m not sure I’ve said this before, but the only commonality I’ve found in Gaiman’s work is a sense of wonder. Sometimes, it’s just magical. Other times, that wonder has a nightmarish quality. But there’s always the feeling of staring at something magnificent.
So for today’s parting, Live, and be magnificent.
