Drying Ink

Article | Thinking About Series

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Fri, 02 Oct 2015 11:03:00 +0000

What's in a series, anyway? Most of us would agree that it's simply a linked set of books, but might vary wildly on how they might be linked. Most conventionally, they would be sequential, and follow similar characters through an elongated arc - like Lord of the Rings, or even Game of Thrones. Recently however, I've been finding that many of my favourites follow another model.

As you might have guessed, I'm about to talk about Bujold and Brust. A lot. Bujold's longest series is the Vorkosigan Saga, a set of books that mostly follows the Vorkosigan (and future Vorkosigan) family of Barrayar, a galactic backwater with some interesting quirks (it was colonised, cut off, then rediscovered after reinventing feudalism - then its new spacefaring neighbours tried to invade, leaving in their wake a rapidly modernising planet with an odd social structure and extreme taboos against mutation, the visible sign of the radiation weapons used in the war). It switches between a number of different protagonists - chiefly Miles, who I adore (you can read about my adoration for him plenty elsewhere, though pointing out that he is a disabled, brilliantly flawed man who doesn't escape his own consequences as well might give you some clues), but also Cordelia, his mother, and even one book with the amazingly lazy Ivan (usually suffixed with "you idiot"). But the freedom in not being bound to follow one particular plot arc between books means each acts fundamentally as a standalone - if changing character, genre, and setting needs to happen, then it can. Which makes for a far more varied read, while still preserving the advantages of a series: greater character depth, familiarity and development. By the latter books of the Saga, Miles is one of the best characters in modern fiction, with remarkable complexity - but if we'd had to read a similar number of books all structured as The Warrior's Apprentice, most of us would have stopped reading long ago. The freedom to retain worldbuilding and character while changing genre and plots gives it the best of both worlds.

Another author doing similar work is Steven Brust in his Vlad Taltos novels, following the life and times of the titular character. It takes similar freedoms to Bujold's Vorkosigan Saga, but with an additional one: chronology. The Vlad Taltos series is far looser chronologically than Bujold's - Vlad will mention a story as an anecdote in one book, then eventually tell it as its own story. The events of Taltos, the fourth book, are referred to in Jhereg, the very first. This is important in two further ways: firstly, it allows the series as a whole to start in media res - the Vlad Taltos series informs us where it is going with Jhereg, making the reader willing to tolerate more buildup in its beginning when eventually told - and secondly, it gives us a far firmer impression of Vlad-as-narrator. For first person stories, this is definitely an additional benefit: Vlad will allude to other stories, shared anecdotes, then tell them in other books altogether, making us believe far more in him as a character telling the story himself. Kvothe, while a good storyteller, rarely gives this impression - his story is far too well structured.

That's not to say the conventional model is bad, and indeed, many of my favourites follow that model: the additional space to expand on plot can be useful, and it's rare to see an epic done any other way. Even with the reduced freedom, a little genre-swapping is still possible: take Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn trilogy, which goes from fantasy heist novel to epic in its later stages, or NK Jemisin's Inheritance, which swaps both protagonists and structures (I've yet to read the third book yet, so no spoilers!). Sequential series certainly aren't bad, and yet... I'm increasingly getting to appreciate series with a looser structure and correspondingly more freedom. Freedom to retain the deeper worldbuilding and characterisation that linking permits, while changing around genre and the other trappings. Who wouldn't want to see an epic fantasy protagonist have to deal with a mystery too, or a political intrigue? Plus, it allows for longer series - and hence more time with our favourite characters - without becoming repetitive, or requiring ridiculous escalation in obstacles (I'm looking at you, Jim Butcher, though I'm looking hard at you for other reasons too). Brust has reached 14 books and shows no signs of stopping yet.

So these have just been a few loose thoughts of mine on series structure - where do your sympathies lie?

Review | Three Days in April - Edward Ashton

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Tue, 29 Sep 2015 22:25:00 +0000

Most books I can recommend for some aspect of their writing - even if the whole ensemble falls short. Sadly, Three Days in April is one I can't recommend at all.

But let's rewind a little. Three Days in April is a fast-paced technological thriller set in a future Baltimore where government surveillance is everywhere (and they have a network of orbital kinetic energy weapons for when they stop merely watching), and a significant proportion of the populace are genetically modified, most along fairly standard models (the Pretties, for instance, or the Neanderthals).

The trouble starts when a plague runs through Hagerstown - and the government quickly starts wiping the public newsfeed of the disaster. Anders, a mouse-DNA'd-teaching-assistant is caught in the middle of the coverup, along with irritating hacker roommate Gary, and new-acquaintance-and-Neanderthal Terry, when Terry's sister is discovered to be trapped within the killzone. Then... things get weird.

It doesn't sound like a terrible premise, but the problem is in the execution. The plot, simply put, doesn't work. It's fast-paced, yes, but few of its developments are explained, nor do they have any meaningful foreshadowing, making the resolution seem like deus ex machina to an absurd degree. There are some interesting links, but unless I'm missing a great deal of the novel, it utterly fails to satisfy in this respect: it's a rollercoaster of meaningless twists. I was left wondering where the last twenty percent of the novel was. Our heroes were saved? How?

Even poor plots can survive scrutiny if they have sufficiently interesting characters to follow them, but Three Days in April fails to entertain in this respect either. None of the central three protagonists ever become more than caricatures: Anders seems to have little non plot-driven personality, and Gary seems to be intoxicated through most of it, barely developing beyond giggles. Terry comes closest to being interesting, with her relationship with her sister and her disliked partner, but still gets no development. Worse, the conversations between all involved read like laddish 'banter' - with the sexism that entails. This isn't limited to the dialogue, but also permeates the narrative - the 'Pretties' get a particularly heavy load, but the book as a whole reads as fairly male gaze-y

What about the technology? The genetic engineering and subsequent social tension doesn't go beyond the obvious, either (with the exception of the Neanderthals, who seemed an interesting resurrection, but were rarely dealt with) - the normals hate the engineered, etc. Expect no detailed studies here. No spoilers for the main plot, but the technology it deals with is... interesting enough, for the most part, but fails to carry the novel. The resolution reads more as magic than technology, and could be accepted far more easily as the former with the tiny amount of exposition provided.

I dislike writing wholly negative reviews, but I cannot in all conscience recommend this book for any aspect of its writing. It's a technological thriller that fails to thrill with technology, character, or plot. It fails to explain what it should, and overexplains when it doesn't need to. Its characters fail to grow beyond stereotypes, and occasionally sexist ones at that. If you're looking for a fast-paced read, try something else from the archives - maybe Rivers of London, if you're into UF, or The Jennifer Morgue, for Stross with a more humourous bent - but not this.

Review | Fool's Quest - Robin Hobb

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Fri, 11 Sep 2015 15:25:00 +0000

And I'm back! Holidays have been had, bad weather weathered (ie. great holiday, but somewhat in spite of the weather - we had a nearby pool and some dogs that seemed to come with the house, which improved even rainy days immensely). Anyway, in the downtime, I've read a huge number of books as holiday reading, so expect a whole run of reviews!

Fool's Quest is book two in the Fitz and the Fool trilogy, and I clearly had to pick it up: the Fool has always been one of my favourite characters (not even mentioning my weakness for the general archetype), and Hobb is at her best when writing about him. But before I get into plot details, be warned - as a direct sequel to Fool's Assassin, there will be serious spoilers for that book.

Fool's Quest begins where Fool's Assassin leaves off - or, in fact, slightly before it. Bee, Fitz's daughter, has been kidnapped by the Servants, who believe her to be the Unexpected Son, a new White Prophet. Fitz... has no idea about this, and is in Buckkeep tending to the Fool, who has been severely injured. A good quarter of the book is felt playing catch-up in this fashion, and while the Buckkeep court has always been the most interesting location, the reader's knowledge being so far ahead of the characters' does lend the book a slower pace than usual, and can be frustrating at times when characters fail to jump to conclusions apparently obvious to the reader.

But starting there does remedy one of the previous novel's main deficits: a lack of the Fool, who appeared only in the finale, despite being alluded to throughout the book. His dynamic with Fitz has naturally changed, but it's nicely developed from those previous encounters. Admittedly Hobb has a certain recurring plot with her characters' recovery from torture, and much of the Fool's book is given over to that: regaining some of what he used to be, despite his old injuries and new blindness. It's uncomfortable but powerful reading, and the Fool is still one of my favourite characters - and one of the few mainstream canonically non-binary characters - in fantasy. Fitz also gets to interact with this element of him in more sensible fashion (aka: less face-in-hands, "Fitz, why are you doing this?" questioning), and there are some great moments that showcase the pair.

Actually, that's another main point about the book: it reads as fanservice. That's not in the sexual-content sense, but in the sense that there are some scenes in this book that fans have waited (possibly) trilogies to see. They're undeniably powerful. That said, it is also overlong. Hobb's books have always been doorstoppers, but Fool's Quest is the first that made me conscious of this fact. Partly, it's the problem of the slow start, and the intermittent Bee viewpoints: most of the time is spent with Fitz playing catchup, and the main plot takes a while to get going. While I appreciate the joy of meeting old characters once more, and the personalities of the Buckkeep court, it does make the final scenes and ensuing cliffhanger seem rather tacked on. (If you're yet to start the trilogy and are easily frustrated by cliffhangers, I might recommend waiting with this one - it's a bit of an egregious example)

Overall, however, Fool's Quest is a novel that any Hobb fan will probably love. Its flaws don't detract from the depth of the Fitz/Fool relationship, developed over three trilogies, and which leaves me thirsty for more such intrinsically character-driven fantasy. It's also interesting to see Hobb's Realm of the Elderlings developing more realistically. Protagonists of previous novels in leadership roles are far from in complete agreement, and some are politically completely opposed. It's a nice touch, and makes the world in the background seem much richer. Recommended with caveats, it's a read that you'll probably love regardless.

Amazon: US UK

Interview | RS Belcher

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Wed, 19 Aug 2015 15:43:00 +0000

To celebrate the release of Nightwise - a novel I've eagerly anticipated ever since reading the brilliant The Shotgun Arcana - I had the opportunity to ask RS Belcher a few questions on his new book. Welcome to the blog!

1. How different was Nightwise to write, as opposed to The Shotgun Arcana and The Six Gun Tarot? Does the different style/subgenre affect your writing process at all?

Nightwise began as a novella called “The Greenway” years ago, around 2009-2010. My natural “voice” for writing was originally a first person, noir-detective style. It's very natural to me. I grew up on detective fiction and came to love Raymond Chandler and John D. McDonald When I started writing Six-Gun Tarot, I realized that the first-person voice didn't feel right for that story, so I went with a different voice.

Nightwisewas in some ways very easy and very fun to write—it felt like going back to the bedrock of my earliest writing and to the first genre I tried to write in, but in other ways it was hard after writing Six-Gun. I found difficulties in having a large, complex cast of characters and using a first person voice with that. The Golgotha books ( Six-Gun Tarot and Shotgun Arcana) do have a different voice and style and I do have to do a bit of a “shift in gears” to go from writing one universe to the other.

I actually finished Nightwise just before I started on Shotgun Arcana, and it took a little effort to change gears. Detective fiction and westerns are two of my favorite genres and I feel really lucky to get the chance to work with both of them.

2. What's your favorite urban fantasy?

I am currently really enjoying the “Sandman Slim” series by Richard Kadrey.

3. You've said that you've worked as a private investigator. Has that experience informed or inspired Nightwise at all?

I think my life influences my writing quite a bit. There's more of me in Nightwise than I'd care to admit. I was a private investigator for over ten years and I definitely feel that job gave me some experiences and insights that have showed up in Nightwise and some of my other writings.

4. How much have your novels changed from their original concepts? Have they ever surprised you in that respect?

Yes. In the case of Nightwise, it was originally a novella with a different ending and most of the cast of the novel weren't even in that story at all. After Six-Gun Tarot was purchased by Tor, I was encouraged to revisit the novella and make it into a novel. My Agent, Lucienne Diver was very supportive of this effort, as were several of my close friends.

Quite often the core of what I'm writing about stays pretty consistent, but the way I get there and the characters involved may undergo change. Many of the characters in the Six-Gun Tarot were never intended to be major characters but that all changed during the writing and editing process.

I work from a simple framework to keep me on point, but I often alter the details as I go. That is part of the joy of writing for me; creating something much more than the sum of its parts.

5. We often try to avoid cliches - but do you have a favourite (or at the very least guilty pleasure) overused trope?

I started writing the Six-Gun Tarot with the desire to take all the old western cliches and turn them on their ear as much as I could. I was great fun. Nightwise is, at its heart, a detective story, but again, I tried to take those old gumshoe cliches and present them in a new way.

I think my protagonist, Laytham Ballard, is stereotypical of the Urban Fantasy anti-hero but I decided if I was going to go down that road, I was going to make him as close to irredeemable as I could and at the same time make the reader like him, root for him and even sometimes understand his motivations, even if they didn't agree with them.

Cliches can be useful tools for a storyteller—they're cultural short hand. You can use them to summon a series of ideas and preconceived notions and then completely mess with that mindset in a way that will make the reader do a double-take. It's both fun and also can be a pitfall if you lean too much on the same old things your reader has encountered a hundred times before.

Blog | Off on Holiday!

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Fri, 14 Aug 2015 14:03:00 +0000

Hey all!

All good things must come to a very temporary hiatus, and as such, I'm off on holiday to France for the next two weeks. Never fear, I'm bringing (probably far too many) books, so anticipate a great many reviews when I get back (as well as some extremely delayed Nine Worlds enthusiasm, because I really cannot recommend that convention enough) - from the new Robin Hobb to ZerOes. I'll have limited internet access, so probably won't be posting on the blog, with the possible exception of an interview with RS Belcher appearing on the 19th.

Hope you're all having a lovely summer too, and see you all soon!

Guest Post | FORBIDDEN Blog Tour - The Magic of the Sazi

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Thu, 13 Aug 2015 18:48:00 +0000

Forbidden is an urban fantasy thriller set in the world of Hunter's Moon - where a shapeshifting people, the Sazi, have retreated into isolated communities. Naturally, these have their own problems, and our heroine, Claire, is sent to investigate the kidnapping of Sazi children in one such community, with the assistance of one of the local shifters, Alek. I'll be getting my own review up soon, but more importantly, to celebrate the release of Forbidden (now out, as of the 11th!) Cathy Clamp has kindly contributed a guest post on one of my favourite topics: magic systems!

The Magic of the Sazi

In the world of FORBIDDEN, shapeshifters are magical creatures, tied to the moon phases. But that’s sort of a simplistic way to describe how the magic actually manifests in a shifter. People are different, even shifters. Some have a “talent” for magic, while others simply shift, become animals and then shift back at dawn. In the Sazi world, there are levels of magic ability. At the top of the heap are “alphas.” An alpha feels the moon all the time, regardless of the moon’s phase. They can draw on that energy to shift “off-moon,” pretty much any time they like. But it is taxing. The higher the alphic ability, the less difficult the shift is, so it doesn’t affect them physically. Think of an Olympic track and field athlete. Running a mile or two is just a warm up to the hard stuff. But to an average joe, the mile or two is the whole workout, and to a weekend warrior, a mile or two will have them spitting up their breakfast before the end of the second mile. So it is with Sazi magic. The shifters who are on the Sazi Council, and work for Wolven, the law enforcement branch, are the Olympic athletes. Shifting is a nothing—barely scratching the surface of their ability. Middle of the road alphas can shift off-moon, but will feel like a truck hit them by the end of the day. Most Sazi are in the middle. They’re not alphic, and only change on the full moon. And a “three-day-dog” or omega, who has the weakest abilities, can’t shift off-moon at all and must have help to shift even on the full moon. So, there are as many different levels as there are people. Just like humans!

But is shifting all the moon gives a Sazi? Not at all. The highest alphas can do lots of inherent magic. Not casting spells and such, but they have very clever defensive magic abilities. One is illusion, where a shifter can appear to be something other than a shifter. A wolf can influence people’s minds so they look like a dog of similar size. That wasn’t a wolf, it was a German Shepherd. Or a Bobcat can look like a big tough alley cat, or a cougar might look like a bobcat. The birds have it easiest. All they have to do is look a little smaller, and even then, a lot of actual predator birds are HUGE. An eagle’s wing span can reach seven foot, and an eagle owl’s wings can span NINE feet!

Another form of magic is aversion. An pack or pride’s alpha can use their magic to make an area feel . . . wrong. People will get the willies the closer they get to the pack. They’ll turn around and won’t go closer. And even if someone is unusually brave, they’ll often avoid an area with glowing eyes in the blackness and low growls! In FORBIDDEN, the town’s alpha uses aversion to protect the town from human visitors during hunts.

There are also some offense magic abilities, such as holding. An alpha of sufficient power can use their magic to tighten around another Sazi like a rope, freezing them in place. It can even defeat gravity when necessary. But that takes a LOT of magic, and only a few are strong enough to do that—like Wolven agents and council members.

There are also seers, who have magic that allows them to become psychic. Some can see the future, others the past, and some can see events happening from a distance in real time. But the problem with magic like this is it’s subject to free will, so it can change. And every time it changes, the person is along for the ride. Becoming a seer is not exactly a fun “gift.”

I try to use magic sparingly in the books. It shouldn’t be easy because it can become a crutch. I’m careful to make sure there’s always a price. For example, in FORBIDDEN, one of the characters uses her magic to hold another Sazi in mid-air, after they’d fallen over a cliff. But she couldn’t do it for long, and wound up feeling like she had the flu afterward. She vomited, had chills and was weak as a kitten. So . . . yes, magic exists, but it has limits and will cost whoever uses it.

Enjoy the moon magic as you delve into the FORBIDDEN world of the Sazi!

Best | Mentors

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Thu, 06 Aug 2015 22:14:00 +0000

In every fantasy tale, there are mentors - from the Gandalf-esque cryptic advice dispensaries to the more practical tutors. As always, I'm going to feature just a few of my favourites, for whatever reasons, so please feel free to add your own in the comments.

Chade Fallstar - Realm of the Elderlings series, by Robin Hobb

Chade numbers among my favourite mentor figures for one main reason: his relationship with Fitz is allowed to mature, and to develop complications. Fitz is allowed to learn of Chade's fallibility in time, and this is something that both parties find hard to accept and move on from: even the adult Fitz sees Chade as his old mentor, and Chade is often tempted to assume old authority - sometimes causing problems. It's a complex relationship and all the better for it. But I've jumped too far ahead. Who is Chade?

Well, he's the eponymous assassin of Assassin's Apprentice - the spymaster of King Shrewd, who sees in the royal bastard FitzChivalry both a potential liability and a useful tool. Chade is tasked with turning him into the latter, first by teaching the young boy using 'games' and then later more directly. And it only goes on from there, as more complications as well as genuine affection arise. He's also one of Fitz's many parental figures... Possibly explaining a great deal.

But while the ruthless Chade is an interesting mentor in his own right, it's the evolution of his relationship with Fitz that is truly fantastic - from young indoctrinated boy to questioning teenager to an independent man who still slips into old habits.

Lu-Tze - Thief of Time, by Terry Pratchett

Not so much a serious pick as a pastiche of the wise old mentor monk trope, Lu-Tze is one of my favourite Pratchett characters full stop. He is the man who inspires genre-awareness regarding little, smiling old men: Rule One's "Do not act incautiously when confronting little bald wrinkly smiling men!". He is a legend. And he presents himself as a harmless street sweeper, with a book full of the wise sayings of his former landlord. Why not? After all, who notices the sweepers?

Naturally Lobsang, his newest student, is rather disappointed to find his lessons consist mostly of broom handling. Until they get dragged away to - you guessed it -save the world, and of course Lu-Tze is capable of the odd legendary feat after all...

Lu-Tze might be an entertaining mentor, but he's also an interesting one. His initial lessons are superficially useless, but Lobsang learns something from the man anyway: underestimation is useful. And that's true to the book's very end. But let's not forget the entertainment either! Lu-Tze's numerous lies, half-truthes, disappointments and 'wise sayings' are truly hilarious - mainly paired with Lobsang's reactions.

Lupe dy Cazaril - The Curse of Chalion, by Lois McMaster Bujold

Cazaril is a different type of character to the previous two: a literal mentor, rather than a mentor figure. In fact he's the protagonist, tasked with instructing the young Royina (essentially a princess) and her friend, in a court which seems determined to tear them apart. Cazaril is an interesting choice because his tutoring is frequently the method by which he manipulates events - making the Royina reconsider her actions. Having the protagonist as an advisor makes for an interesting book indeed, and one more fascinating still for his lack of direct power for much of it. Ever wondered how frustrating fantasy youngsters might be? Try Cazaril's perspective.

But aside from his interesting role, he's simply a great character. My textbook example of tragic past done well for one thing. A former castillar forced into politics - and the machinations of religion - with the enemy who once 'forgot' to ransom him and condemned him to slavery. And one who has to face them again for his pupils' sake this time. If that's not a setup for a fantastic character driven narrative, I don't know what is.

So, these are mine - what are yours?

I'm at Nineworlds right now, so posts may be a little slow - but be prepared to hear plenty about it later (and if you're there too... Feel free to come say hi!)

Games | Sunless Sea - Failbetter Games

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Wed, 29 Jul 2015 10:27:00 +0000

So today it's a bit of a diversion from our usual topics - and into the world of games, albeit one that's largely interactive fiction. I've been playing a great deal of Sunless Sea this year (too much Sunless Sea? Never!), and thought I'd chat about it on the blog.

Sailing near Irem

Sunless Sea comes from Failbetter Games, the company responsible for the browser game Fallen London, and indirectly for all your sad feelings about bats (they're probably also responsible for that strange hunger you've been feeling lately, if you experience certain parts of FL content...). So they've got a pretty good - if a little grindy - interactive fiction track record. Sunless Sea is a different take on the formula, putting you at the helm of a steamship on a vast underground ocean and inviting you to explore. As the tagline "Lose your mind. Eat your crew." suggests, the survival expectations are not high.

At its best, Sunless Sea is an anthology. Each island or port on the Unterzee has its own stories, frequently its own entire plotline. Many are by guest writers. Richard Cobbett's spider-worshipping Saviour's Rocks, and Emily Short's haunting Station III are particular highlights. As a result, it reads as something of a collection of short interactive stories: drifting across the Unterzee using the roguelike mechanics to find the next island, each of which has a very different theme and feel to it. There are islands with one big event, one big choice, which affects what you'll find there on subsequent visits. There are islands that dole out their nuggets of story slowly, one visit at a time - like the island of Mt Palmerston, which has you taking letters from a rather homesick deviless. Occasionally - but to the game's credit, not very often at all - there are the disappointing islands, only there to serve as part of other plotlines. (That said, the game is still being occasionally updated, and there will be an expansion at some point - I'm still hopeful for more in places like Irem, which has the promising quirk of switching tenses from the main game as time distorts itself)

The Chapel of Lights? Seems like a nice place.

Docking: the story side of the game.

So now I've set out what I love about it, how do the mechanics measure up? Out on the Unterzee, you'll be balancing four main resources: Supplies, Fuel, Terror, and Crew (and there comes a terrible day when you make the realisation that crew are cheaper than supplies). The first two are relatively straightforward, if requiring you to balance whether you can really afford to risk that trip out into the unknown against the possibility of discovering a new island. Terror is a little more of a worry. While it lost some of its bite in the final releases, terror represents the fears of your crew and yourself as you sail a fantastical sunless ocean. As it rises, new events occur - you can even find yourself recruiting a possibly-imaginary officer. At 100, your crew mutinies. Terror increases faster when sailing away from light and shore, but is largely increased by story events (something I'm hoping they increase further - while it's still a bit of trouble to manage, the high terror events are fantastic, so it would be nice to see terror become more of a risk again). The terror mechanic works very well, as do the others, but there is a problem: the speed. Sunless Sea is a slow game, mainly due to sailing speed with all but the fastest engines. A lot of the time, that's a good thing. The atmosphere is fantastic, due largely to a lovely soundtrack (you can find it on Bandcamp here), and sailing slowly through this vast map works well. Except for the roguelike elements, which means you tend to die a lot. Repeating early content at such an enforced slow pace can be offputting, so I recommend using manual save once this sets in. The content varies a lot more once you get to start making different decisions with different captains, and visiting different further-out islands, so this is less of a problem in the longer game.

Combat: or, how some devils are beating me up

The combat involves manipulation of light and darkness again. Bring the enemy in your firing arcs, and you begin to prepare a barrage. If they're illuminated, this works faster - but naturally, turning our own lights on make them spot you much faster. In general, it works well, and numerous small items found about the map make their own additions to combat: like glowing blue coral, which can illuminate the enemy, or the anarchists' Unclear Devices, which causes the enemy to lose you. However, it would be nice to see some more variation, especially in weapons, as well as the ability to board enemy ships, which currently is artificially extremely difficult but can lead to interesting events.

That said, these are minor nitpicks, and the stories are truly fantastic. Islands have them. Your officers have them. Yes, some are little more than fetch quests for sections - but when you're plotting a route through a dozen islands to deliver something to each, that can be a pleasure rather than an annoyance. As well as islands, your officers have their own tales you can explore, and these are often the most touching. This is another place the roguelike element works particularly well. Your captain can die, there can be lasting consequences: so your choices in one lifetime become all the more weighty. Dying also allows you the chance to explore different endings, and so you'll often end up characterising your captains very differently in order to see all options. In fact, some choices which end your character give the next captain in your lineage something very useful...

One of my favourite locations: the Dawn Machine

The worldbuilding is fantastic. Though obscure and rarely directly stated, piecing together the clues to various mysteries from fragments of narrative is a downright pleasure. It's a lovely world: a world in which London was stolen from the surface as the latest in a long line of stolen cities. A world in which East acts strangely, and North is associated with hunger. Where Hell cast out its aristocracy, who now plot in exile. A world in which rats and guinea pigs go to war (on one fantastic island, at least). And the art works fantastically for all of it. Just take a look at the Dawn Machine!

Altogether, I have to recommend Sunless Sea. It may have its flaws, pacing-wise - but overall, it stands as the most delightful game I've ever played. It's imaginative, quirky, and manages a variety of different tones and experience. Pair that with care for inclusivity (the romances have no care for gender, there are canon non-binary characters - alternating with he/she pronouns in one case, admittedly, but this was a kickstarter backer being written in who was apparently confirmed as appreciating this - and PoC in significant places), the ability to make utterly terrible decisions and eat your crew, and some truly fitting art and soundtrack, and you have a recipe for a winner.

Review | The Wilful Princess & The Piebald Prince - Robin Hobb

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Sun, 26 Jul 2015 21:31:00 +0000

I've always loved Robin Hobb's Realm of the Elderlings books, and when a friend was kind enough to lend me The Wilful Princess & The Piebald Prince I was happy to have the chance to revisit. Through all the novels, especially the Farseer and Tawny Man trilogies, one story is repeatedly referenced: that of the seduction of a Farseer princess by a Witted commoner, and the subsequent disastrous reign of the Piebald Prince. So in a sense, this book is a defictionalisation, as we never get to hear the tale in full in the novels proper - as well as a record of what really happened, as opposed to the folklore's version. Predictably enough, it's rather different.

It's narrated by Felicity, the daughter of the wet nurse to Princess Caution, who becomes her childhood companion. Ah, the Farseers. Their naming conventions are possibly the worst for irony (as you might expect from a novel featuring Caution as the titular Wilful Princess). She's an engaging narrator - deeply flawed, very (even if unconsciously) ambitious, and nonetheless adoring Caution. It's a good mix, and you're soon drawn into her story, in which the myth of an evil witted sorcerer becomes a series of unwise decisions and a political quarrel. And very convincingly, too, making the anti-Witted prejudice of the Farseer trilogy even more tragic.

The Wilful Princess does assume a fair amount of knowledge of the existing books, despite technically being a prequel. It would make sense without having read the Farseer trilogy, but most of the broader implications would be lost - and many references, such as those to the Skill, go entirely unexplained. It's an engaging story, yes, but largely for its exploration of the origin of this tale in the wider setting, so even if it's set before the first trilogy, I would firmly recommend reading this later. Besides, that way you get the joy of those moments when you realise a beautiful explanation has just taken place.

It's also a short book. That's not something I thought I'd ever say about one of Hobb's works, but it's true, weighing in at 157 pages in the copy I'm reading. That said, it's also a beautiful book - the illustrations (mostly of animals) are lovely and blend well with the text. I can imagine it's a delight to own, especially if you're going for the complete set, but unless you've read a substantial amount of other Hobb, I wouldn't recommend buying this one, as it's far less essential.

But what about the story itself? Well, I'll try not to spoil too much, but it relates the true story behind the legend: of the childhood of Princess Caution, Felicity's relationship with her, and her son, the Piebald Prince. Felicity is wonderful - she's very engaged in the story she's telling, even when third hand, and frequently interjects to insert her own opinions, as well as how the story might be told by those less in the know. She's a great character, too: she might love Caution, but is also deeply selfish in doing so, and her role as both manipulator and manipulated in the tragedy is a very interesting one. And of course it's a tragedy - that's a foregone conclusion. However, there's less space left for the other characters, some of whom are portrayed in very broad strokes. In such a short novel, Hobb's normally wonderful characterisation is reserved only for a few. That's not to say it's bad. It gives it an almost fairytale-esque air in itself, and I enjoyed that, racing through the novel.

All told, I'd thoroughly recommend The Wilful Princess & The Piebald Prince to seasoned Hobb readers, or at least those who have read the Farseer trilogy - it's an engaging little fable that offers a tragic insight into Hobb's world, and the origins behind the anti-Witted prejudice in the Six Duchies. However, I would advise reading the others first, as the book has little room for introducing itself, and perhaps borrowing rather than buying unless you've already acquired a bit of a collection, as it is a short (though beautiful) book and less significant than the others, with far less depth of characterisation. It is a lovely addition, rather than a main feature in itself.

The Wilful Princess & The Piebald Prince on Amazon: UK US

So what's next? It could be Fool's Assassin, but it might be another look at Anansi Boys, which I'm currently loving the audiobook of (it's read by Lenny Henry, and is really doing a spectacular job so far). I'll also be writing about Sunless Sea, a game - so slightly off my usual track.

Review | The Iron Ghost - Jen Williams

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Tue, 21 Jul 2015 10:36:00 +0000

In April last year, I read, reviewed, and ultimately loved Jen Williams' The Copper Promise - a refreshingly fast paced, self-contained epic. As such, I was very interested to see where the sequel would take us, and happily, The Iron Ghost's journey is equally interesting. (Plus, I can hardly disapprove of the pun on the cover. Sorry.) There will inevitably be some spoilers for The Copper Promise, as with all sequel reviews, so be warned!

The Iron Ghost begins several years after The Copper Promise's rather grand finale - and more in the heroic than the epic fantasy vein. After their world saving exploits of the first novel, the Black Feather Three have been rather more mercenary, steadily building fame and fortune. However, not all is well between the three. Wydrin and Frith are divided by Frith's obligations - he feels he ought to marry strategically, as the last member of his noble family, and this is causing... understandable friction. Sebastian is dealing with the remnants of Y'Ruen's army - his own magically created daughters - and trying to find a way for them to live in peace. So when the Black Feather Three depart for their new job in Skaldshollow, we're far from the amiable status quo of The Copper Promise's ending.

The Skalds traditionally use stone golems - werkens - quarried from the magic-rich stone of the mountain to labour in their city. But their way of awakening the creatures has been stolen by a neighbouring people, the Nahrl, who view the Skalds' practices as harmful to the local mountain spirit. When the Black Feather Three are hired by the Skalds to retrieve their property, the conflict soon escalates - an ancient mage, Joah Demonsworn, is on his way back, and soon both parties' problems are overshadowed by this entirely non-ominous sounding addition.

So, first - what I loved. The Iron Ghost knows what it does well, and what is does well is Joah. Thankfully there's a lot of him. Yes, frequently I call out for more ambiguous antagonists. But Joah is a wonder: so assured in his own rightness, so anxious to ensure Frith is his brother in all of this... it's the combination of his utter amorality with his desperate affection for Frith that makes him such an engaging villain. Yes, it might have been interesting to have more of a possibility for redemption - but sometimes in heroic fantasy, what we need is a villain, and Joah is a fantastic one.

Another aspect I should mention is the care for diversity. Often, epic and heroic fantasies have failed on this front, but The Iron Ghost clearly does well here: there's a gay protagonist who gets a romantic subplot, others in background, and the world isn't using the typical all-white fantasyland (Frith, for one, is not). And honestly, I appreciate this. It's not what makes the book good by itself, but it's important to appreciate some decent inclusions here, given how the fantasy genre has often disappointed - able to imagine entire worlds, but no POC or LGBT people in them, at least outside stereotypes.

That said, The Iron Ghost suffers where its predecessor did: pacing. It seems to have difficulty in dealing with its subplots - the Frith/Wydrin issue, for example, barely gets touched before an attempted and rather hurried resolution (which is dramatic, yes, but I want character development rather than drama, which this lacks). Sebastian's romance meanwhile, gets almost shoved out of the way at the book's end, leading me to go back and search for scenes I'd accidentally missed. I can't help but feel that for a long book, The Iron Ghost could better allocate pages to these important interactions - just as I felt with the earlier Sykes novels. The action set-pieces are fantastic, yes, but it's the characters that make the novel, and the ending in particular does them a disservice. Sebastian's dragon-brood at least get the time they deserve, and their relationship is far deeper for it.

I do appreciate the novel's blend of epic and heroic fantasy tropes. The threat may be massive; the location is more confined, so we have a far richer sense of place. The fate of nations may be involved; the nations are frequently petty, squabbling, and decisions made for very personal reasons. It's a good mix.

All in all, I'd definitely recommend The Iron Ghost. Admittedly, it can be uneven in parts, and I hope the sequel allocates more time to gradual development, rather than the jolting resolutions that were used for certain subplots. But as a whole, it's a massively enjoyable cross between the heroic and the epic which won't fail to keep you reading, with engaging characters, a truly fun villain, and a climax that left me wondering: where next?

Adaptations | Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell - BBC Series

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Thu, 16 Jul 2015 11:08:00 +0000

Adaptations are always a difficult business. I'm ashamed to admit I far more often come down on the side of the book purists - mostly not because the adaptations themselves are bad, but because the novels are far more expansive, it's very hard not to lose key elements when trying to stay true to the original, and alterations can be risky. That said, some really succeed in distilling the book's essence. I've even preferred one or two to the source material. While Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell isn't among the latter, it's a work I thought could never be adapted well (mostly due to its sheer length!) and I'm very glad to be proved wrong.

Strange and Norrell (image courtesy of BBC)

Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell is one of my all time favourite fantasy novels. A historical fantasy set around the time of the Napoleonic Wars, it begins in an England with a strongly magical heritage - but in which practical magic died out centuries before. Magic is studied by theoretical magicians. Practical magic is the lot of charlatans, street sorcerers, and entirely ungentlemanly. Until two gentlemen begin its reintroduction. Predictably enough, it's the tw
o in the title, and the novel follows their lives, academics, quarrels and struggles - as well as that of Stephen Black, Sir Walter Pole's butler, who is caught up in the consequences of their actions. And it's wonderful. I've made this recommendation several times already, but it really is the best historical fantasy I've read - and one of the few books I find endlessly rereadable.

The novel itself is a vast, sprawling work, clocking in at over 1000 pages in my copy (a very pretty one I picked up in the Oxfam bookshop a few years back after losing my original copy - black page edges are definitely striking). In fact, that's a large part of its charm - it will happily devote page-long footnotes to telling old magical folk stories, and referencing fictitious academic texts. I'm (as you may have realised) quite a devotee of extensive worldbuilding, and this is one of the most delightful examples I've encountered.

So it must have been a difficult work to adapt. Thankfully, they managed to stretch it out: a seven part, one hour per episode miniseries. And in general, they do a great job. I'm going to split my take onto it into a non-spoilery and an intensely, flee-far-from-here-to-a-small-yurt-on-a-remote-island-inhabited-only-by-the-Hermit-Club-if-you-haven't-seen-the-ending spoiler

Gilbert Norrell (BBC)

Firstly, the actors. Eddie Marsan is perfect as Mr Norrell - by far the most difficult role. Because Norrell isn't your typical protagonist. He's meant to look as unmagicianlike as possible, and his visitors often come away with a sense of disappointment. And his personality? He's insecure, a miser with his books of magic, determined to make magic respectable at all costs. Look at this man. This is definitely Norrell. Strange, as Bertie Carvel, is also well cast (you can definitely see how the book persists in calling his expression "ironic"). And they're very, very talented. To make Norrell sympathetic - if rarely likeable - is a difficult task, and it's managed admirably. I, at least, really felt for the manipulated magician, even in his more horrible moments. Stephen Black is played by Ariyon Bakare, likewise in a very good performance, but I have some issues with the change in Stephen's character and plotline in the adaptation, which I'll get to later.

Secondly, the magic. The magic of the novel is subtle and creepy; described in feelings and images rather than flashy physical effects. Readers might be forgiven for wondering how well it would translate. In general, it works very well - the series definitely uses its effects budget wisely, and doesn't add any of the lights or usual trappings. And some of it definitely comes off as unearthly as the novel implies: the King's Roads (I would show, but... spoilers!) are a particular highlight, as is anything involving mirrors. There are one or two places where it seems to have stretched its budget too far (a curse in the final episode comes off as more funny than frightening), but there are some wonderful scenes - particularly with the fairy magic, and the Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair.

Thirdly, the cuts. As I've mentioned, the book is more than a thousand pages - and even with seven episodes to fill, that still means a lot of cutting. Likewise, it mainly works - some characters are compressed into others (for example, Lascelles seems to have absorbed Lord Portishead), Strange gets focus a lot earlier, and most of the book's key parts remain - again, with the exception of Stephen, where several of the arc's crucial scenes as well as the resolution are entirely missing. I'll go into detail on this later, as this is the adaptation's main flaw. That said, there are other scenes I very much miss. Lord Byron, and his odd interactions (and disappointment) with Jonathan Strange, for one. The footnotes clearly couldn't be included, but are nonetheless missed! Some elements are even expanded upon - both Arabella and Lady Pole seem to have more from their perspective, and generally more agency, which I appreciate.

Stephen Black (BBC)

So, what is this flaw in the series' version of Stephen Black which I keep alluding to? (There will be some unavoidable spoilers for the book at this point, but nothing too major.) One of the novel's main plotlines is the relationship between Stephen, Walter Pole's black butler, and the book's resident and utterly amoral fairy,
the Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair, who is quite enamored with him. The series keeps this, but turns Stephen's relative powerlessness into complicity: he actively stops investigations, and even participates more actively in one of the Gentleman's larger schemes. By contrast, the Stephen of the book does not have the fairy's magic, but frequently manages to exert an influence over him regardless - while the Gentleman may be utterly immoral, Stephen can at least frequently divert him from the most destructive course of action he contemplates. The Stephen of the series has few of these scenes, and is depicted as far more cowardly. And this means that when Stephen really comes into play in the resolution, his actions (though similar) read very differently. Furthermore, the series essentially robs him of agency in favour of Strange and Norrell in the ending, as well as truncating his original plotline. While the adaptation is generally very impressive, this is a major failing to me - in addition to having rather unfortunate implications, with Stephen as the novel's only character of colour.

[SPOILERS]

Now for the really spoilery part. Don't read this unless you've read the novel, because I'm going to discuss exactly how the ending changes.

And it's substantially. Stephen is essentially compelled by the magicians to kill the Gentleman, while the curse acquires a far more lethal aspect - and Norrell and Strange themselves travel to Lost Hope. We have a more overtly emotional reunion of the magicians, too, who profess their friendship for each other (while I did enjoy Norrell's newfound change of heart, and delight in magic, I did find this rather over the top). Arabella and Jonathan Strange have a similar goodbye, but a closer one emotionally, tinged with less of the book's bittersweetness. And we never see Stephen become King in Lost-Hope.

It's here where I think the adaptation falls flat. Mostly, it just misses the subtlety of the original text - both in Stephen's actions, and in Strange and Norrell's relationship.

[END OF SPOILERS]

So, would I recommend the adaptation? Yes, with some heavy caveats. The book is better - largely just for the Stephen Black plotline, which is adapted poorly - but also for aspects like the more nuanced presentation of the Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair, and the not-quite-working alterations to the original ending. That said, to fail to quite live up to one of the best modern fantasies hardly makes it a bad show - on the contrary, for the most part it's a great one. Norrell and Strange are portrayed wonderfully, Childermass is a constant delight, the magic is subtle and creepy... It just works. So definitely still worth watching.

Review | A Plunder of Souls - D.B Jackson

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Thu, 21 Aug 2014 18:21:00 +0000

I received this one upon returning from holiday, just the other day, and devoured it instantly (or at least within the morning). Yes, the third novel in Jackson's tale of an alternate pre-revolutionary America is here - and yes, it's just that good. But first, some background. I've been following the Thieftaker series since its inception. It's an intriguing blend of historical fantasy and crime, taking as its central changes that thieftakers were active in the American colonies (they weren't), and that magic, in the form of conjurors existed. And needless to say, it's a very fun one. Our protagonist is one Ethan Kaille, a thieftaker and conjuror in Boston, where revolution is fermenting, tensions are high, and now the smallpox has come to town. Still struggling against the emnity of the other thieftaker in town, the far more influential Sephira Pryce, he consistently finds himself in desperate straits - which, of course, makes for rather excellent fiction.

This time, the conjuration takes centre stage from the beginning. Someone has been graverobbing, in a bizarre ritualistic fashion that clearly ties the victims to Ethan himself - and more, his own powers are beginning to wane. Shades are appearing across town, Sephira's after him, and Ethan will need to enlist far more help to win against this arcane threat - while his allies are divided. While there's a fourth book on the way from Jackson, A Plunder of Souls is clearly an escalation, if not a climax. And it's all the better for it. Where interesting characters like Janna (owner of the local magic supply shop, and frequently ill-tempered advisor - also the book's main POC character) and Sephira had been sidelined, now they play major and far more complex parts. Sephira in previous books had played the bullying rival with much less depth, and while I enjoyed them, I felt this was a missed opportunity. In A Plunder of Souls, she's forced to work more with Kaille, and we see other sides of her, and it makes for a wonderful read, one that leaves me anticipating their interactions in the next book.

A Plunder of Souls also delves less into the crime element than its predecessors, which is both a strength and a weakness. Because of the focus on conjuration, a system that had previously felt... light has ended up far more substantial and convincing. But it also develops a clear culprit earlier on, who occasionally verges on failing the Evil Overlord List (okay, they're not that bad, and I like them as a character - but after so many blunders on their part, it becomes a little too plot convenient to forgive entirely). That said, the threat is definitely more substantial, and that's a good thing, preventing the series settling into too great a pattern.

As in previous books, the historical setting is a major asset. Despite the two central changes, the novels otherwise stick fairly close to history (even timing the smallpox outbreak), and it's a wonderfully convincing thing. In addition, it's practically unique in fantasy. I might have missed a vast set of pre-Revolution Boston fantasies, but I'm pretty sure I'm right on this one - which of course, makes it refreshing, especially given it's also urban fantasy and is thus able to depart far from the conventions of the genre. It also eschews many of the romantic elements (especially those that can turn a little creepy/sexist - see some of the later Dresden Files books), though mainly as Kaille is in a happily monogamous relationship with a local innkeeper. It's a nice genre-blend, and I personally love it (though I've always enjoyed historical fantasy, especially Kay).

Overall, A Plunder of Souls is an enthralling read - an addition that elevates a good series to a great one, and can only leave me in anticipation for the sequel. While it suffers from an overly villainous antagonist, its few flaws are massively outweighed by its good points: Ethan's intriguing allies (and their development), a wonderful setting, and a fleshed out magic system. Definitely recommended! ...But read the others first, I'd say - while this one's definitely readable from scratch, you'll miss a lot of the context.

Why You Should Read | Widdershins - Kate Ashwin

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Tue, 15 Jul 2014 22:39:00 +0000

I've ventured into SFF-y music before, but today it's time to take a look at a webcomic, and one of my personal favourites at that: Widdershins, by Kate Ashwin. And as for why this isn't a review? Well, it's simply because I long ago decided that Widdershins is pretty wonderful indeed, so this'll be more in the nature of a recommendation. A very long recommendation.

Widdershins is a steampunk-flavoured fantasy webcomic set in the eponymous town - a city where the presence of an 'anchor' amplifies supernatural talents, allowing spirits to be summoned and imbued into various devices (impatience really does help the trains run on time - at least when the rails are imbued with it). And as expected, it's rather a hub for weirdness of all sorts. The webcomic tells its story in short arcs - and while there are only five so far, it's clear that the short stories are linked (and two have been direct sequels), with recurring characters. I was initially a little worried about whether this would occur - while I do love a short story from time to time, my preference is always for a longer term character investment, and we're definitely getting that here. A
nd what's more, the linked tales form a larger arc. I won't be spoiling anything, but according to the author, there'll be seven in the first main plotline. The stories so far have ranged from 59 to 106 pages in length, so don't worry, there's plenty of time for development within each. In fact, the structure's always been a positive addition for me, giving plenty of aspects of Widdershins (from a run-down hotel seeking out chefs through rather... arcane means, to a company exorcising botched summons) their own space, and providing your regular dose of plotline resolution (something that can easily slip in a webcomic).

So, why should you read Widdershins? Here's a run down:

A moment involving giraffes.

- Did you not hear 'steampunk'? I kid, but Kate Ashwin's art really brings the aesthetic to life. While it's more 'Victoriana-with-a-flourish' than full blown 'airships for all' steampunk (ie. the occasional clockwork contraption), it's a wonderful look (and I doubt many could deny that a number of characters are looking very... dapper). More importantly, it's diverse steampunk - something the subgenre has often failed at in the past. Her take on magical England includes several protagonists who are PoC (including the rather awesome Alexa King), and of course, a number of wonderful female characters (I always look forward to Harry's moments. Especially those including giraffes - and further, she's allowed to exist without apology while representing a character type that's sadly normally portrayed as male-only, which I rather love). As far as LGBTQIA+ goes, it's also promising, though not to the same extent: Mal is asexual (Word of God here), Nicola - though not as yet a main character - lesbian, and there's a gay couple in Piece of Cake, the fourth story. Altogether, it's a very welcome addition, and I can only cheer it on!

Sidney's introduction. It's not hopeful?

- A unique magic system. I know, I know - I'm always interested in the magic. But Widdershins' sorcery involves the conjuring of spirits and emotions, and it's a rather interesting one (especially when rather nastier emotions - greed and sloth for example - get involved). Mechanical insects? Imbue them and maybe they'll fly. A bracelet for the King of Thieves? A bit of greed, and it won't leave its owner until they're dead. But unusually, it also deals with what happens, and who has to deal with it (hint: lowly council employees) when it goes wrong. 'Malforms', or more commonly 'buggerups' are botched summonings, and a major storyline involves some protagonists being enlisted to take care of them. What's more, it's apparent there's more to the system, and we seem to be learning more fragments with every story - and I'm looking forward to every word of it.

- A truly wonderful array of characters, and interactions thereof. (Even I have to grab some shipping goggles for Sidney and Harry, or possibly Mal and Wolfe, I'm afraid :P - not that the latter is going to happen). But leaving that aside, there's a good selection here: from Harry, a terse 'hunter' following in her father's footsteps, complete with loyal hound, obligatory pipe, and the occasional moment of humour, to Alexa, a determined contender for a baking competition who's forced to rally the opposition to rather more... supernatural difficulties than expected! And while so far Sidney-and-Harry and Mal-and-Wolfe storylines have mainly been separate, there have been crossovers, and I can only hope they continue - it really does give the impression of an overarching setting, which is one of my favourite aspects of this particular webcomic. Further, it's these small interactions which really give the characters shape, from Harry's sister's perpetual meddling (and background expressions), to Alexa's befriending of her cowed maid Nora by essentially ambushing her with cake. (Okay, I may have occasionally cake-ambushed someone myself, but that's not why I like it, I swear!)

- Hints at a building larger arc. While obviously I won't spoil it, it's apparent what's going on at this point - and how the tales are starting to connect, both overtly and rather more subtly. Continuity and worldbuilding is a big draw for many (just think of how many fans like to puzzle out the tiny hints and connections in Brandon Sanderson's cosmere books, and it's no different here).

- The art. It's clean, expressive, and really conveys the characters (especially Voss) - and the different styles used (for example, to convey Mal's seeing of spirits) really work well. It's not one of those that'll make you gawp in wonder on a regular basis, but it does convey some spectacular moments in... spectacular fashion.

Mal's sight. I love the colours in these ones!

Altogether? I'd thoroughly recommend it. While its style of storytelling won't be for all, it's well worth a look for those seeking out a new webcomic read, and especially one in a steampunky genre. Particularly, its short story approach makes it suitable if you don't feel up to a long archive binge, or the arc fatigue that can set in with long-running plots - Widdershins deftly avoids both. It's wonderfully written, very inclusive, and represents a steampunk vision I can only look forward to seeing more of. You can find it here.

Review | Ancillary Justice - Ann Leckie

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Sun, 06 Jul 2014 15:19:00 +0000

I first came to hear of Ancillary Justice through Alex MacFarlane's excellent series on Post-Binary Gender in SF, over at Tor.com - and next thing I knew, all my friends were raving about it. Of course I had to pick it up (that, and everyone was telling me I should - I can take hints :P ). And did it live up to the hype? I'm afraid it's an unequivocal yes, and I'm just going to have to join the queue in recommending it. Shoo, go read the thing already... Oh, you need a little more persuasion? Well, here's the actual review.

Ancillary Justice is the story of Breq, a soldier once part of a vast, artificial intelligence: the ship Justice of Toren. A military AI in the service of the Radch, a civilisation that conquered a large section of the galaxy, Justice of Toren was betrayed - and now Breq, the last of the ship's bodies, is poised to achieve revenge. But on her way, Breq meets Seivarden, a former (and much disliked) officer of hers, and suddenly things become complicated. Well, more complicated - there's already galactic politics, aliens, conspiracies and a multiplicity of bodies involved.

Breq's journey is an interesting one, and uniquely written - both from the perspective of an individual body (Breq, or One Esk), and from the other in the equation: the starship, controlling many such bodies. Leckie manages to pull both off well, with some distinction between the two. As a Radchaai-constructed AI, she's an outsider throughout much of the book, allowing an interesting perspective on the different societies. And that leads us neatly on to the interesting things done with gender... In Radchaai society, gender is not linguistically denoted - only a single pronoun is used, and it's (at least to me) unclear whether the majority of the Radchaai identify as non-gendered (at the very least it's implied that some do, and a welcome disassociation between gender and body implied by one brief explanation of the systems in place for parenting, though this might be me reading too much into it), or whether it's simply considered a private matter. At any rate, our protagonist finds the need to guess gender in the other societies glimpsed difficult. In the narrative, 'she' is used as a default pronoun, which I found rather striking - when 'he' is considered an acceptable default in so much of modern society, and even in other SF novels, it's a useful and rather powerful choice. However, you can read some much better thoughts on it in Alex MacFarlane's post on it here - I agree with her in that using a non-gendered pronoun would better reflect the society, and be more interesting in that respect. At any rate, Ancillary Justice does the matter - well, justice. Sorry. I couldn't resist that one.

But Breq's journey isn't undertaken alone, and it's the relationship between her and Seivarden that I particularly enjoyed. It's not a straightforward development, for one thing. Seivarden was an officer on Justice of Toren, and not one the ship particularly liked - so when Justice's last remnant, Breq, runs into her many years later, addicted to kef and in trouble, it's a problematic relationship for both. And the growth in it is all the more impressive and complex for it, and their interactions (at least later on) rarely failed to evoke a smile on my part. It's the kind of odd partnership that more authors could do with taking a closer look at: not just the superficial 'odd pairing' we often see (ie. a robot and a zombie! Together, they fight crime), but the character, views, and backstory of each is fundamentally different, and troubled.

Despite my raving over the worldbuilding, I should also say it's done subtly. While there are the mandatory infodumps from time to time, tidbits of Radchaai society are parceled out slowly as they become relevant - and some, either taken for granted by Breq, or irrelevant to her, are barely touched on (and I only hope we get to hear more of life for the normal Radchaai in the sequel - particularly the Aptitudes, a series of tests which seem to determine role and career in the Radch). That said, One Esk versus Justice of Toren's multiplicity of bodies took a little while for me to figure out properly, and if the novel seems to start slowly - well, I would give it a few chapters. However, it's true that the pace is never lightning-fast, and while the latter half of the novel speeds up considerably, be prepared to invest some time first. It's also worth noting that Ancillary Justice is the start of a series - albeit one with a surprising amount of resolution. The ending is remarkably, if not wholly satisfying, fulfilling most of the promises made at the novel's opening, but leaving the main conflict to come (and if it's anything akin to Ancillary Justice, I can't wait for it).

...I've spent a while trying to think of any major flaws. The infodumps have occasionally been clunky, a more gender neutral pronoun seems that it would have better suited Radchaai society (but 'she' was a powerful choice, so I have a hard time being picky)... But really, there isn't much. The prose isn't as beautiful as, say, Kay's, but it's nothing to scorn: it's largely invisible, and handles conveying some quite unfamiliar concepts (protagonists with multiple bodies?) deftly. Overall, Ancillary Justice is a tightly written novel with several intriguing concepts, an engaging plot (and pair - I didn't expect to get on with Seivarden nearly as well as I did), and a sequel hook that'll keep me waiting eagerly for the next. It's a truly wonderful book. I can't help but recommend it.

Article | The Magic of Susanna Clarke's "Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell"

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Fri, 04 Jul 2014 18:36:00 +0000

If you've been reading this blog for a while (or if you know me in real life, in which case, have my commiserations as well ;) ), you probably know of my love for magic systems. You might even know of my love for Susanna Clarke's wonderful Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell (which made one of my very first posts on this blog, back in the darkness of the Deep Archive In Which I May Not Look For Fear Of My Old Writing). Well, that fated day has come. Today, I combine the two!

The cover of my newly acquired
replacement copy! (Black page edges
- does it get better?The answer is
NO)

Or, in less dramatic terms: I just finished rereading it, I'm full of excitement for the BBC adaptation, and talking about magic is always fun.

It's often stated that the more mystical magic systems don't get to play much of a role in plot resolution - pithily stated in Sanderson's First Law:

"Sanderson’s First Law of Magics: An author’s ability to solve conflict with magic is DIRECTLY PROPORTIONAL to how well the reader understands said magic."

But what about Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell? For those who haven't read it, magic permeates the book - both of the titular characters are magicians, and involved in the return of English magic from its supposed demise. And yet, the magic is profoundly mystical: we're allowed to know a little of it, and a few of the spells that Norrell and Strange use most often (moving roads about, scrying, etc) - and yet, when it comes to the magic at the heart of it, the wonderful imagery of the Raven King and his alliances with stones, woods, and the elements, we know almost nothing. So how does Clarke manage it? The first part is in creating conflict outside the magicians' expertise, even conflicts of manners rather than magic. To quote:

"Can a magician kill a man by magic?" Lord Wellington asked Strange. Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. "I suppose a magician might," he admitted, "but a gentleman never could."

While much of the time, magic could be used to circumvent a problem, its use is often prohibited - often by its public perception. When Norrell brings magic into the Strange/Norrell schism, magically wiping the contents of Strange's newly published book, he meets with massive public disapproval. A great deal of the conflict in the book is character-based, personal rather than public, and centres about their relationship, and so the novel is able to be soft magic-dense without removing any sense of tension.

Secondly, there's opposition. When Norrell and Strange have disputes, both are magicians - and by previous standards, kind of amateurish ones. So when there is a magical conflict, it's either equal, or either magician is largely outmatched by the Gentleman With The Thistledown Hair: it doesn't come off as a deus ex machina when your protagonist doesn't win. And when they do? It largely involves those elements of magic which we do understand, at least a little. But I won't deny that #3 comes into it a little as well...

IT'S JUST SO BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN. It's fairytale magic attempted by academics - and when we really see the Aureates-style magic of the finale, it's wonderfully otherworldly. And honestly, I get goosebumps every time I read it.

So, basically, Clarke breaks the 'rules' of having a softer magic system a lot less often than it seems - that, and when the rules do get bent a little, the imagery is so fantastic that it's impossible not to welcome it. :P

Review and Thoughts | Words of Radiance - Brandon Sanderson

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Wed, 02 Jul 2014 15:17:00 +0000

The US cover of Words of Radiance.

This one's been a while coming! But it's time to finally conjure up some thoughts beyond "SHALLAN BOOK YAY". For those who haven't read the first in the series, The Way of Kings, Shallan is the ward and pupil of Jasnah Kholin - a member of the Alethi royal family. Shallan's plotline in the first involved deceit, a great deal of scholarship, and some wonderful drawings of the local flora and fauna (included in the book) - a far more complex character than she at first seemed, she's also by far my favourite of the series. (Plus, libraries. What can I say? It's Lirael all over again). In the planned ten book Stormlight Archive series, Sanderson is giving each book a character focus, with a set of dedicated flashback chapters. For Words of Radiance, these are Shallan's, explaining my initial reaction. But there's a lot more to the book than that, so let's get started. A word of warning, however: as WoR is a direct sequel to The Way of Kings, there will be unavoidable spoilers for the previous book.

Words of Radiance continues from the climactic final act of WoK, in which Sanderson set a number of new plots in motion - Szeth (the Assassin in White) has been sent to kill Dalinar Kholin, Jasnah and Shallan have resumed their tuition arrangement - now with strange powers included, and the theory that the Parshmen race used as cheap labour are in fact the legendary Voidbringers - and Kaladin and his bridgemen have been recruited as Dalinar's personal guard. And from the beginning, it's apparent that everyone is converging on the Shattered Plains. Kaladin, despite being grateful to Dalinar, struggles with both his new status and his distrust of the higher caste lighteyes. Shallan, meanwhile, travels to the Plains - having to rely on her own wits, newfound but largely unknown powers, and her ability to act in a politically hostile situation. A marriage to a certain lighteyes would save her family's failing fortunes, but she has her own goals to consider, and Jasnah's as well. All the while, Dalinar pushes for an attack to end the war, rather than stalemate. And we even get a new semi-main viewpoint, on the Parshendi side of the conflict.

It's an intriguing mix. The convergence solves some of the structural problems in The Way of Kings: when the viewpoint characters are in the same camp, you don't feel the same occasional disconnect as when they're on opposite sides of the planet. However, it also introduces its own minor problem. It might just be me, but with all of Sanderson's magnificent worldbuilding in Stormlight Archive, it seems almost a shame to constrain the story to one nation, one (largely played out) location. Thankfully, the interludes alleviate this with minor viewpoints from across Roshar, and we get to see more of Sanderson's flair. (For those who haven't read WoK, Roshar is a storm-swept planet. So much so that all the vegetation and creatures, over much of the surface, has evolved shells and grows deeply anchored in rock. And of course, the classic rule-based magic also features...)

So let's talk characters. Shallan is the big one: do her flashbacks live up to the 'promises' made by the reveals of her secrets in book one? It's an unequivocal yes, and they add a great deal of complexity - and ambiguity - to her character. It's also worth noting that she's a particularly awesome female character, in my mind, simply because she isn't forced into becoming the two dimensional 'action girl': her strengths lie in other areas, and she's allowed to use them. I particularly liked her interactions with Pattern, a spren scholar bonded to her. Kaladin's plotline suffers from a sense of repetition from Way of Kings, however, and it's hard to avoid a sense that he's mentally stuck in one place simply because the plot wouldn't function if he had certain realisations earlier. In other words, it's not a bad conflict, just an overly slow one. Szeth is similar, but expectedly so, and he definitely gets enough amazing scenes to compensate. Dalinar, meanwhile, compensates. After struggling to accept his visions for much of book one, he finally pushes ahead with everything in book two, and it's a wonderful read.

The cover I own - perhaps not quite as dramatic
as tWoK cover, but I love the style.

Because of certain slow plotlines, Words of Radiance does get bogged down a little in the middle. While it's generally a great read, I can't help the feeling that a little editing to reduce the feeling of artificial character development slowness would be a good thing. That said, structurally, the first and last thirds fly by, and the interludes give much needed breaks - and wonderful Cosmere hints.

The Cosmere is the universe in which a number of Sanderson's novels are set, each tying subtly into some overarching story which will eventually become apparent. The main crossover so far is a worldhopping character named Hoid (who, yes, I also love. A lot.) - but in Stormlight Archive, these have become exponentially more common and plot-relevant. So much so in fact, that I would recommend reading WoR after at least Warbreaker and probably Mistborn to get the most out. I'm a big fan of shared universes, and it's a nice feeling to ferret out these nuggets of information about the overarching tale and universe. It's an exciting concept, and one I hope I get to see more authors eventually attempt.

The ending makes up for a great deal of the novel's slowness, however. Without spoilers, it's clear that the Shattered Plains as a main setting are done, leaving me excited for the more open setting of Book Three. Further, it's just a more conclusive ending as a whole than Way of Kings, whose final act seemed largely to set up more plot hooks. That said, I'm hoping future books take us away from the entirely Alethi focus, and from Kaladin's bridge crews, I'm hopeful: we've seen a range of Roshar's cultures there, and so the prospect of escaping the Alethi/Dalinar's-family-centric view seems likely. Diversity wise, however, it struggles along with all of Sanderson's work so far in heteronormativity - though there is one minor character, all of the relationships so far are heterosexual. That said, it does definitely improve on the "one exceptional woman" trope which has occasionally tripped up Sanderson's characters before: while Shallan does end up isolated for a fair section, the series also has one of her most important relationships as the pupil/teacher one between her and Jasnah, who is an equally great character.

Words of Radiance as a whole is definitely a worthy successor to Way of Kings, rounding off the series' first main arc. Where the first novel served largely as an elongated introduction - fantastic if you love worldbuilding, but perhaps not worth an immediate purchase if you're going to be wanting conclusions to all the plot hooks set up, the two taken together are a great read. WoR has its flaws, getting bogged down in the middle section and a repetitive Kaladin plotline among them, but overall is a fun read - and if largely for Shallan's sections, the interludes, and as always, the wonderfully inspired worldbuilding, I personally loved the majority of it.

Review | The Copper Promise - Jen Williams

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Fri, 18 Apr 2014 14:26:00 +0000

...and I'm back!

Jen Williams seems to have reinvented brevity in the epic fantasy. Okay, I exaggerate, but The Copper Promise easily works - and works brilliantly - as a standalone novel, something which in a genre of doorstoppers with "to be continued"'s affixed, I find entirely welcome! (I do love epic fantasy, and certain door and elephant stoppers are favourites of mine, but sometimes it's nice to reverse the trend. Don't worry, you'll get your Words of Radiance review soon enough...)
That said, it takes more than a few elements from the sword and sorcery subgenre, so fans there will likely find something in The Copper Promise as well.

The novel begins with our three protagonists breaking into the Citadel - a fortress where the long-dead mages imprisoned the old gods, as well as their choice treasures. ...And naturally, it's the latter that our heroes are in search of: Lord Frith searches for the key to retaking his family keep, whereas Wydrin and Sir Sebastian are more interested in being paid to help him out. But unfortunately, it's the former they inadvertently meddle with: releasing a god intent on destruction, and soon all three end up with roles to play in stopping her.

It's hard to give a plot summary without spoilers: The Copper Promise is an extremely fast-paced novel, and things change quickly. In fact, it's being released in three parts for the ebook edition, which is probably quite fitting, as it does read almost like a trilogy compressed into a single book. Whether you like this or not is another matter. I enjoyed it, as a refreshing change from the drawn-out epics that have dominated the subgenre recently (again, not that I dislike them, but variety is always preferable!), and also as a plot that gave us a great deal of resolution - if fewer sequel hooks, which leaves me wondering what aspects the following books will take up. However, the downside is: there is no status quo. Very little time is given to a single development, in fantasy terms, and while this makes for a fast paced novel, it does disadvantage some character development: Sebastian in particular changes very quickly, whereas Frith's character growth and regression becomes slightly frustrating if only due to their rapidity. Furthermore, one or two twists are a little too predictable. While in a book with many it's hard to balance when the reader realises an upcoming revelation, certain surprises were ruined by overly heavy hinting. That said, in a book with so many, a few early spoilers have little effect on the overall impression.

So let's talk about characters. Frith - well, another character describes him as a bit of a shit, and often this description is kind of apt. That's not to say he isn't a great character, though - he is. It's another good element of the book: we sympathise with Frith and his tragic past, but frequently disagree with his selfish actions. I rather like this aspect of the book, though it would be nice if his development was more stable, especially given the pace - expect frequent regression, which does provide the occasional moment of frustration. In general, though, he's a courageous decision on the author's part that plays off - not a loveable bastard, or a magnificent one, but simply a very flawed human being. Sebastian and Wydrin are more sympathetic and immediately likeable (Wydrin, the Copper Cat of Crosshaven, being my personal favourite - though maybe I just like thieves too much. Locke Lamora, Eli Monpress...), and I enjoyed the roles of both. Sebastian in particular pulls off a slightly Faustian plotline better than most - having solid reasons behind his actions. Williams also does a reasonable job on having a diverse cast, with at least Frith being a PoC, and also avoiding the all-straight part of the typical fantasyland - which is definitely welcome!

Next up, a favourite topic of mine: the magic. While I won't explain the system - what there is comes relatively late in the book - it generally falls on the mystical side, with enough rules explained that the protagonists' use is justified. With the recent trends in the genre towards firmly rule-based magic, it's nice to see that Jen Williams can so excellently preserve some mysticality in hers, proving that fantasy gods in particular can still remain... well, slightly terrifying.

In general, The Copper Promise fulfils its promises: a fun, fast-paced, sword and sorcery-esque epic that manages to provide a very satisfying resolution. Yes, it has flaws - but despite them, it remains a brilliant read, and one I'd highly recommend. While a very neat ending leaves me wondering where the sequel will pick up, I can't wait to see where Williams goes next. Rich, complex, and with a large dose of good S&S character-driven nature amidst the epic fantasy trappings, The Copper Promise is definitely a recommendation for anyone interested in exploring a traditionally-flavoured, but original epic without necessarily getting into a multi-book arc.

Blog | Meet Algernon (and a Quick Absence!)

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Fri, 11 Apr 2014 07:49:00 +0000

Meet Algernon. He is possibly an eldritch abomination, and also kind of fluffy on the inside. His existence and name are due to two separate friends*, both entirely awesome.

Anyhow, now I've distracted you with the cute mini-Cthulhu - news! I'm off on a quick holiday from this morning, and will probably not be able to post/have internet til next Wednesday, though am bringing many books (you'll get a fresh batch of reviews). Hope you all have fun without me!

*Yes, I probably owe them a baked goods-debt as well! :)

Music | High Noon Over Camelot (and the Mechanisms)

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Thu, 10 Apr 2014 16:11:00 +0000

At the weekend, I went to see CN Lester and the Mechanisms in Oxford - and while both were entirely awesome, the latter is something I can talk about in an SFF way. (And yes, this is the first time I've used the music heading. Heresy!) For those who haven't encountered them before, the Mechanisms are a band of - as their website puts it - "immortal space pirates roaming the universe in the starship Aurora. Some say they’re from a steampunk future, others claim they’re from a cyberpunk past, a few even whisper that they may be from a dieselpunk alternate now. They are all correct.". And their musical storytelling is similarly varied! So far, they've written three sets, as well as assorted individual songs: Once Upon a Time in Space, Ulysses Dies at Dawn, and their most recent, which debuted in December (which performance I sadly missed, but thankfully am now all caught up!), High Noon Over Camelot. The first two can be streamed/purchased via their Bandcamp, while they've just completed a Kickstarter to record the third, which should be released this summer. You can listen to a live recording here.

I first ran into a selection of the Mechanisms performing, as I recall, at Catweazle - or at least I remember the words immortal, space pirates, and steampunk, which tend to be a rare combination. Much later, some friends to whom I will be forever indebted (so long as that debt is payable solely in baked goods*) suggested I come along to a performance of their second set - and it was appropriately enough, amazing.

Each member has their own persona, with the fictional crew usually participating to some small extent in the set stories - as well as telling it musically (in fact, they've even elaborated beyond the songs in some short fiction here). While not any full sets, there are also songs about the crew members themselves, some of which are featured in the Tales to Be Told album, but most of which are sadly unrecorded as yet. At any rate, said personas are generally extremely violent, have their own odd canon (involving the creation of their mechanical parts by their former collaborator, Dr Carmilla, as well as octokittens. I haven't really asked about them. I'm a little afraid to. Afraid and fascinated.), and of course, costumes.

The sets, meanwhile, each tell an overarching story - each with a unique setting. Once Upon a Time in Space is based on fairy tales (in space!), with a brutal King Cole facing rebellion after kidnapping a skilled soldier from her wedding to a princess, Cinders. It's a lovely mashup, with a unique take on every figure - and of course, some spectacularly creepy ones. I will never look at the three little pigs the same way again. Ulysses Dies at Dawn crosses genres again - a dark (cyberpunk?) retelling of Greek mythology in a planetwide urban sprawl, where those rich enough gain immortality as Olympians, and the brains of the dead are harvested to provide computing power in the Acheron. The most recent, High Noon Over Camelot (which I saw performed on Saturday) is a western-inspired version of Arthurian legend set on a space station. As someone who loves a little genre bending (it's one of many reasons the Vorkosigan series is a favourite), it's great to see so much here. They're also frequently tragic... the suggestion of a possible happy ending got a laugh from other audience members.

I shouldn't spoil too much for High Noon - after all, you can listen to it yourself. That said, bear in mind that the live recording doesn't yet compare to actually hearing it: you'll have to wait for the proper recording for that! What can I say? It's a fun twist on the Arthurian legends, an inventive setting, some stunning twists, and of course some horrendously catchy songs. Seriously. I still can't root Skin and Bone out of my head. It's been a week, dammit.

So, if I haven't persuaded you so far, what else can I say about the Mechanisms? Well, they're good at telling stories with a diverse cast, which is always welcome in SFF, and particularly in the steampunk/dieselpunk/cyberpunk blend (whichever they are right now!): lesbian romance, trans characters, and just a good range of stereotype-defying - all feature. Secondly, you can stream their music before buying, so it's well worth a go. Thirdly, those octokittens are really cute.

Anyhow, that's my brief take on the Mechanisms - you can find their website here.

*Okay, I pay all my debts in baked goods.

Best Of | Necromancers, Resurrection, and General Botheration of the Dead

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Wed, 09 Apr 2014 13:04:00 +0000

...And as always, for those new to the blog, my Best Of posts are where I pick a few favourite examples of my own of a topic from the genre, before asking you your own picks in the comments below. This time, the frequent villains of the piece: necromancers.

1. Matthew Swift and Magicals Anonymous series - Kate Griffin
She's been one of my favourite authors for a while - in fact, ever since the beginning of A Madness of Angels, which has one of the most engaging openings I've read (but I've ranted about that plenty elsewhere, so let's move swiftly on!) - but her brilliantly creepy necromancers, while a minor part of the series so far, definitely make my list. Combining part of the golem legend with the typical resurrection, in an attempt to preserve themselves, they eventually swallow paper upon which they write the aspirations and qualities they wish to retain in their new undead life - which they then choke on. Their dying breath empowers the paper, and they return. It's mostly the determination which is terrifying here, but it's an original combination - and as with all my favourite magic systems, has a suitably high price.

2. Johannes Cabal - Jonathan L Howard
Sarcastic, cold, and very occasionally possessed of a redeeming quality (maybe), the Johannes Cabal series' titular necromancer is scientifically minded and frustrated with the vagaries of necromancy. After making a Faustian deal for said powers, he decides that the magical effects of - well, not having a soul - make experimentation difficult: so he sets out to win it back. Okay, so he's a little bit of a terrible person. Nevertheless, as a character, he's wonderful: amoral, ruthless, and so pragmatic - with a few hints of humanity - that you can't help but root for him. Plus, taking shortcuts through wordy magicians with the help of a ridiculously bulky gun is the kind of genre-parodying fun which is so enjoyable in the Cabal series.

His necromancy itself leans towards the scientific (if vague) end, and not in the technobabble sense, but in the sense that he's actively researching better methods. His various solutions so far all have various side effects (brain-eating may or may not feature), but I do like his attempts to force scientific observations on magic, necromancy, and even the Lovecraftian Dreamlands (which are understandably resistant to them!)

3.Vlad Taltos series - Steven Brust
There are some necromancers in Dragaera - most notably the Necromancer, who as godlike demons go, seems rather friendly - but these aren't who I'm talking about today. No, I find the pure resurrection system of the novels interesting. Revivification isn't cheap, but it is available. And the consequences on Dragaeran society are extreme: in one novel, Vlad even mentions assassination being used as a warning. And this has meant modern-style consequences for murder (that said, their society is rather more bloodthirsty than our own as a baseline) have been elevated to the more permanent deaths. Damaging the brain beyond repair, for example, or worse, killing with a soul-devouring Morganti weapon (as reincarnation is pretty much a fact). It's seeing the integration of high magic levels into a fictional society, and its consequences, which makes worldbuilding interesting - and something that sadly, many novels miss out on. Much as I like certain Erikson books... well, much as I like Memories of Ice, magic seems to be relegated to war and not much else - and nobody is prepared for the frequency of character resurrections that occur throughout the series.

So these are mine - what about yours? Feel free to leave your choices in the comments below!

Review | Rags and Bones - Melissa Marr and Tim Pratt

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Mon, 07 Apr 2014 02:42:00 +0000

Rags and Bones promises "New Twists on Timeless Tales" (and delivers), but sadly, this review offers no such twist. Spoiler for the ending: it's unsurprisingly excellent! An anthology retelling classic stories - which range from classic SF to Spenser's The Faerie Queene, Rags and Bones provides a variety of twists and turns to keep modern readers satisfied, and to its credit, does well on the diversity front (including one of the few bi protagonists I've read recently in fantasy) as well: I particularly liked Saladin Ahmed's retelling of Spenser from the point of view of the caricatured Saracens in the original work (who aren't at all happy with their roles - and seek to escape their imprisonment in a morality tale).While I felt this idea could have had a longer tale with more of an arc attached, it's this sort of concept that makes Rags and Bones special.

Of course, it's hard to review an anthology except as an overall impression, but I will mention a few other favourite stories. Neil Gaiman's adventure of a queen to find the source of a sleeping plague is, as always, wonderful - his signature writing combined with the Snow White/Sleeping Beauty mashup, plus some rather awesome female characters (and protagonist) really made this for me. Plus, of course, the obligatory twist. Holly Black's retelling of Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla from the vampire's perspective is one of the best - and most unsettling - vampire stories I've read, finding the vampire's allure not in the cliched romance, but in the dreams of children: an eternal child falling for a favourite playmate. It managed to get me right in the emotions, that one.

It's easy to overreach in a short story - aim for a grand plot and end up rushed. That's why I particularly liked that seemingly, every one of those included chose their scope well: sometimes just a quick exploration of a concept and setting to evoke the needed response was fine! Stories like Tim Pratt's The Cold Corner, in which a recently fired chef returns home for a family reunion only to encounter seeming visions of himself in very different careers encapsulate this beautifully - I won't spoil it for you, but the feel of the town (conveyed perfectly) and its familiarity and half the story, and it's a very welcome half.

Of course, as with all anthologies, there are a few stories that don't hit their targets. Sirocco, the story of a death during filming at the Castle of Otranto, misses for me - this may be due to my unfamiliarity with the source, but the two teenage protagonists with brief introductions, briefer attraction, and then argument failed to enthrall. Overall, however, Rags and Bones succeeds beyond almost all other anthologies I've read: providing an intriguing and captivating mix of tales. And mix should definitely be emphasised - they vary wildly, and that's a good thing! Of course, familiarity with the sources will likely get you more out, but I can only recommend this to any fantasy reader looking for something - or twelve somethings - short, snappy, and entirely original.

Article | When the Present Catches Up

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Mon, 23 Dec 2013 17:12:00 +0000

...Inspired by reading a near-future SF novel where the near is becoming progressively "nearer". I can easily imagine that soon, the technology of "Halting State" won't be so far from our own. But what happens when the present does catch up with the imagined future, with the date of that future... or simply with a date at which that future itself looks outdated?

It's clear that some novels are still successful despite (and some even partly -because- of) this, whereas others prove easily dated. 1984 is long gone, 2001 saw very few space odysseys (to say nothing of 2010), but neither Orwell nor Clarke will fall off our reading lists any time soon! Part of this, I think, is generality, and in this I think softer SF tends to persist better. It latches more onto the fantasy end of the market: views of technology might be easily outdated, but we still want to explore views of humanity - or even just views of a particularly interesting character. The Handmaid's Tale, for instance (though I don't recall whether its epilogue ever set an exact year), I can imagine being read for a long time to come. Regardless of if we use credit cards (which the text mentions), or - I don't know - chips embedded in our fingers (wait, that's horrible, but still), her dystopian vision will still be relevant. While the worldbuilding is always interesting, if a tale doesn't stand as something other than exposition, there isn't much to it - I can imagine a lot of the near future crime SF sticking around.

What about the view of technology itself? Well, it seems to help to defy the current aesthetic: if a novel is just one of hundreds of 70s SF novels all espousing the same vision of the future, it'll date quickly, especially when we reach the set date of said future, and it's completely wrong (meanwhile, there's always room for a quirkily different vision, even if wrong!). As always, it's the different ideas which stand out - whether socially or scientifically. Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan series will be around for a while: plenty have thought up similarly space-operatic futures, but the societies she places in these futures are endlessly inventive. Neal Stephenson's Snow Crash (which popularised the word 'avatar') easily stands out from its cyberpunk lookalikes with the franchised USA setting (plus a hefty dose of amazingness. Protagonist as pizza deliverer for the Mob, anyone?).

Thirdly, a lot of the novels which stick around are simply lucky. Nobody can avoid being influenced by their time, and their contemporaries. Just look at the parade of fiction which used nuclear physics as a general do-anything tool, just because it was new! But exactly which of these similar novels or stories ends up defining that time period in the present day is often due to luck, or popularity (I guess there's also an element of which best fits current values as well).

...don't worry, I don't have any particular point in bringing this up - I just think it's interesting to think about which SF novels have stuck around, even when their technological predictions are hopelessly outdated. Any you particularly think will stand the test of time?

Review | Halting State - Charles Stross

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Thu, 19 Dec 2013 13:04:00 +0000

I've always enjoyed Charles Stross' novels - though admittedly, mainly those involving Bob Howard facing more Lovecraftian spywork/the threat of paperclip audits - so I thought it was past time to pick up the first of this series. Halting State is a near-future SF novel, set in a Scotland post secession from the UK, and one in which a puzzling digital crime has been committed. Hayek Associates, economists for online games, have been robbed - ingame, and impossibly, suggesting that somebody has leaked cryptographic keys. Now the local police are involved, and Sergeant Sue Smith has to investigate a virtual robbery. Meanwhile, the insurers are panicking, and so Elaine Barnaby is sent in to gather evidence - paying Jack Reed, an ex game developer, an obscene sum as consultant. In other words, our three protagonists! But nothing's quite that simple: the robbery seems only the start of a larger crime, Jack's relatives are being threatened, and a Hayek programmer has apparently disappeared...

The most unusual thing about Halting State is the way it's told: second person, from three perspectives. I did eventually adjust, but it took longer than I thought it would - it's a little hard to simply drop in and out of. It's also a slow start from a technobabble perspective - as expected from a novel about a technical crime, and one in which the protagonists are experts in their fields, it's a little heavy (overly heavy?) on the jargon to start with, sometimes needlessly. That said, past the first third, the pace accelerated rapidly and I found myself quickly absorbed.

The technothriller aspects of the novel - particularly later - are wonderful, and the way in which the initial crime fits into the larger picture is perfect: as always, Stross' worldbuilding (even in the near future) is both inventive and compelling. But what about characterisation? Despite enjoying Halting State, that's where my second gripe comes in: while both Elaine and Jack's plotlines had clear structures, Sue Smith's perspectives seemed simply there to keep an eye on the police side of things, and tie the others together. In other words, her role seemed far smaller than expected, and I was occasionally left wondering why such a large chunk of the novel was devoted to her viewpoints - while I liked her as a character, it would be nice to have seen her have a more active effect on the plot. That said, all three characters worked well in the setting, and I found Elaine particularly engaging: a businesswomen essentially hung out to dry on a troublesome case by her partners, she's nonetheless determined to make sense of the situation, and definitely manages to take charge. There's also a nice revelation with Jack's character that I didn't see coming, and succeeds - as all good twists should - in really turning things around.

The pacing, meanwhile - post the first third - is well tuned: we're left just enough time to accustom ourselves to a new mystery before the whole issue deepens. And it's just just investigation, don't worry - there's some... inventive (no spoilers, I promise!) action as well. I especially liked how parts of it are set up from the beginning in the worldbuilding: it's not gratuitous, it fits, and more, it clicks (or at least gives you the "I should have seen that coming, but I really couldn't!" feeling, which is the best feeling).

Overall though, Halting State is well worth reading. If you want a fun, well-developed mystery - with some unusual and interesting protagonists thrown in - I'd advise checking it out, with the caveats that it has a slow start, an odd point of view structure, and Sue's plotline meanders a little. While I'd never recommend it over the Laundry series (so far my favourite of Stross' - though I'm looking forward to the Mo book), it'll definitely pass the time enjoyably.

Review | The Glass God - Kate Griffin

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Wed, 25 Sep 2013 00:15:00 +0000

I’m quickly coming to love Griffin’s new “Magicals Anonymous” series just as much as her Matthew Swift books – and the effect is only bolstered when Swift plays a major role. (I mean, who doesn’t love a man possessed by the gods of the telephone system?) But this time, Swift (the Midnight Mayor, mystical protector of a magical London, etc) is in a new position: he’s the victim.

In fact, he’s disappeared. And Sharon Li, urban shaman, magical community support officer, and newly appointed deputy Midnight Mayor (which even she isn’t sure is a thing), has been given the job of sorting things out. With people disappearing and leaving their shoes behind across the city, and her only clue an umbrella, it’s going to be a hard job.

…And an amazing one to read about. With Magicals Anonymous, Griffin keeps a great deal of the wonderful features of her previous, Swift-focused series – the setting of magical London, even the presence of characters like Swift himself (though Penny Ngwenya is sadly missing from this one!) – while telling stories that Swift never could. Not least the mystery of his own disappearance! But these other features don’t detract from the central fact here: that Sharon Li is an amazing protagonist. She’s forthright, forceful, likeable and even downright optimistic – something that’s become a little rare with the recent trend towards darker fantasy. That’s not to say she’s not a complex character, but seeing a magical London from the point of view of community support is definitely different from that of an urban sorcerer – and just as fun.

The plot is likewise an intriguing one, and Griffin, as always, carries it off smoothly – with one or two minor stretches. Without spoilers, the tendency of certain characters revealing key facts to be silenced, or only reveal a few cryptic words becomes a little overstated, and there is a moment which comes off – to me – as a deus ex machine. That said, it’s after the main thrust of the resolution, so doesn’t ruin the climax, just coming off as a little unlike a character’s abilities in previous books. Belief still firmly suspended!

…and I have to admit, Kelly (another recurring character, and Matthew’s assistant) and other such familiar faces add as much as ever. Rhys, and his and Sharon’s convincingly awkward relationship, is a perennial favourite! While not painted in such detail as in Stray Souls, Sharon’s shaman mentor Sammy is also a lot of fun – loud, impatient, and seemingly with a bad history with most groups in the city.

Overall, Magicals Anonymous is rapidly growing into one of my favourite series. While Sharon Li in Stray Souls was definitely an interesting character, The Glass God definitely sees her hit her stride as a hopeful yet strong protagonist with a unique approach to negotiation (mainly involving an invitation come along to the titular Magicals Anonymous) – refreshingly different to Matthew Swift. It’s imaginative as always, and a few minor plot problems – and an action of Kelly’s which seems to require a follow up/character development, but never receives it – can’t counteract the fact that this is definitely a very worthy read. Basically? It’s a wonderful read. If you’ve read Stray Souls, save a space on your shelf for this one, because it’s one of the best I’ve read this year.

Article | Maintaining Mystery and Mysticality in Magic

noreply@blogger.com (Jacob @ Drying Ink) — Sun, 18 Aug 2013 19:22:00 +0000

...I may have gone over the top on the 'M's in that title.

Anyway, my readthrough of Lois McMaster Bujold's The Hallowed Hunt got me thinking on its magic system, based around the binding of animal spirits, and of course, sacrifice. It's a system tilted towards the 'mysterious' end of the scale, still far from the Gandalf level of opacity but much, much further from -say- Mistborn. And with fantasy seeming to turn more towards the Sanderson-esque rule based systems, I thought it would be worth looking at the benefits of a more mysterious magic system, and what, in the best examples, really makes it work.

Firstly, the best systems - to my mind - balance both aspects. And it all comes back to Sanderson's First Law: "an author's ability to solve conflict with magic is DIRECTLY PROPORTIONAL to how well the reader understands said magic". If the magic is ultimately mysterious - if the reader can't understand its limitations, powers, and abilities at all - then the magic must be irrelevant, it can at most provide some of the book's problems, but never solve them. Take The Lord of the Rings: Gandalf's abilities are enough to be convincing, but for the most part, he's never a real problem solver. And when he does, well, then it comes down to the next element for me:

Price. In order to believe that somebody won't just swoop in and save the day with magic, and to keep that sense of the forbidden, there has to be a price - and a high one. Take George R R Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. Magic is rare, but it does get involved in the plotline, and with consequences. What keeps it from becoming simply another utility (albeit one fairly incomprehensible to the reader)? The cost. It's bloody, largely religious, and nobody in their right mind is going to use it unless they have to. And that helps to maintain it as mystical, rather than a more magical shovel-replacement (as in some high-magic worlds). Rachel Aaron's The Spirit Thief does this by making it dependent on spirits. You want them to do something, and keep doing it? You're going to need leverage, and there's no guarantee someone's not going to forget their "holding up a bridge" bargain.

Another element is specificity. In my opinion, the magic systems which work best at keeping a sense of the mystical are specific, limited to a couple of areas - they're not the "do everything" sorcery of, say, the Dragaera books (which I do love). This ties into the price as well, because if your magic system can do pretty much everything, sooner or later lots of instances are going to crop up where your bloody, high cost magic does become the easier option, and maybe not atmospherically. Magical curses on rival banks? It's going to happen. I loved The Hallowed Hunt's system precisely because it was limited [spoilers!] - Ingrey got a few mystical powers relating to other possessed men and women, but apart from that, it was just the weirding voice: magically commanding people. Constraining your magic helps to keep it mystical.

And lastly, we've talked about how to keep it rare, but keeping it mysterious is more than that. Some of the best systems do it via stories: there's no Mistborn esque, manual-style explanation. Instead, it's more legend and stories: "never open the eighth door on a moonlit night or something bad will happen" rather than "do that and a 40 foot woodworm will devour your books (and you)". Wards off the video game feeling.

Anyway, that's my quick take on the subject - as always, just an opinion, and I'd love to hear what other people think, as well as any recommendations. These are all things my favourite books do when attempting to keep magic at least a little mysterious. Personally, I like rules to my magic - and I like to discover them - but I can't deny that I enjoy a good atmosphere to a story as well, and this, well, helps. Sometimes the best novels are in the middle: the first three Erikson books embody this (don't mention what happens to the magic system after that. Mostly).