deities Archives - The Y Logs

Yzabel / November 13, 2019

Review: The Orphanage of Gods

The Orphanage of Gods by Helena Coggan
My rating: ★★☆☆☆

Blurb:

Twenty years ago, the humans came for their gods.

In the bloody revolution, gods were all but wiped out. Ever since, the children they left behind have been imprisoned in an orphanage, watched day and night by the ruthless Guard. Any who show signs of divine power vanish from their beds in the night, all knowledge of their existence denied.

No one has ever escaped the orphanage.

Until now.

Seventeen-year-old Hero is finally free – but at a terrible price. Her sister has been captured by the Guard and is being held in a prison in the northern sea. Hero desperately wants to get her back, and to escape the murderous Guardsmen hunting her down. But not all the gods are dead, and the ones waiting for Hero in the north have their own plans for her – ones that will change the world forever . . .

As she advances further and further into the unknown, Hero will need to decide: how far is she willing to go to do what needs to be done?

Review:

[I received a copy through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

It took me ages to get into this book (actually, I did it on my third attempt), and I have no idea why. It wasn’t terrible, the beginning was sort of ‘standard’ (= nothing particularly off-putting), it read easily, there wasn’t anything stylistically bad in here, and there was a good chunk of the novel where I actually wanted to read, once I got past the first chapters. However, in the end, I wasn’t sure what the point really was in terms of the story and the characters’ evolution, and this is the kind of thing that is likely to make me forget ‘The Orphanage of Gods’ fairly soon.

I never connected with any of the characters for starters. Hero was somewhat likeable, but too whiny and dwelling on the same things over and over again. Joshua had no redeeming qualities that I can think of. Kestrel was OK but pretty much thrown in there as a puppet. Raven (who’s the narrator of the middle part, out of three) was supposed to be that super future leader, but she was 10 and didn’t do much (apart from being targeted), so that defeated the whole purpose. Eliza, well… it was very convenient that she could avoid many consequences thanks to her powers. The guards were just depicted as monsters and never anything else, and whenever another god or demi-god was somewhat likeable, they just got out of the picture sooner or later.

(Bonus point for same-gender relationship, which is a nice change; but as usual in such/YA novels, it was insta-love and came out of the blue… so I guess that’s no bonus point, all in all.)

The ending was murky and left me unsatisfied. It felt both unavoidable (it was either that or just offing everyone, I guess) and like a cop-out, because so many things were unresolved at that point.

Yzabel / January 31, 2018

Review: Circe

Circe by Madeline Miller

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

In the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe is a strange child–not powerful, like her father, nor viciously alluring like her mother. Turning to the world of mortals for companionship, she discovers that she does possess power–the power of witchcraft, which can transform rivals into monsters and menace the gods themselves.

Threatened, Zeus banishes her to a deserted island, where she hones her occult craft, tames wild beasts and crosses paths with many of the most famous figures in all of mythology, including the Minotaur, Daedalus and his doomed son Icarus, the murderous Medea, and, of course, wily Odysseus.

But there is danger, too, for a woman who stands alone, and Circe unwittingly draws the wrath of both men and gods, ultimately finding herself pitted against one of the most terrifying and vengeful of the Olympians. To protect what she loves most, Circe must summon all her strength and choose, once and for all, whether she belongs with the gods she is born from, or the mortals she has come to love.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through Edelweiss.]

A few years ago, I had read and really liked “The Song of Achilles”, and I had high hopes for Miller’s “Circe”. I wasn’t disappointed.

A retelling of myths surrounded Circe, daughter of sun-god Helios and nymph Perses, this novel focuses of course on the eponymous character, from a much more humanised point of view, making her closer to us and easier to root for. I haven’t brushed up on my Greek mythology in quite some time, and my memories of what I knew about Circe were a bit foggy, but I quickly found my marks again—the deities she’s surrounded with, the mortals she meets (Odysseus being the most famous), as well as slight variations (although I don’t remember reading myths where Circe and Daedalus meet, that was definitely a touching addition, and not an illogical one anyway).

I do remember how, when I was much younger and got interested in Greek mythology, most of the legends I read were the usual male-centric ones, with figures like Circe or Medusa presented as antagonists, somewhat evil and monstrous, impediments to the heroes’ journeys. So whenever I get my hands on a retelling from their point of view, and it happens to be humanised and qualified *and* well-written on top of that, as is the case here, I’m definitely happy about it. Here, turning Odysseus’ men is much less an act of evil than a way for Circe to defend herself before the sailors do to her what previous sailors did (and she doesn’t do it immediately, she does ‘give them a chance’ and studies them first to see how they’re going to behave). Here, the heroes are larger than life, but through Circe’s gaze, we also see their mortality and the imperfections that go with it, the difference between what the bards sing of them and the men they actually were.

No one is perfect in this story; not Circe herself, not the gods, not the humans. In a way, even though half the cast is made of immortal deities, this novel is a study of humanity. Circe’s voice—a voice the gods perceive as shrilly, but is in fact, all that simply, a mortal’s voice, soft and weak compared to theirs—has a haunting quality, too, thanks to the poetic and evocative prose that carries the story. And so it takes us through her contradictions, her pain and hopes, her realisation that she’ll never get her father’s approval, her exile, and her lingering her regrets at what she did in the past (Miller went here with a version similar to Hyginus’, making Circe the cause to Scylla’s transformation, as well as Glaucus’ through her first act of witchcraft). From a little girl neglected by her parents and bullied by her siblings, she goes through life making mistakes, angry and exiled, but also learns from this, and becomes in time a wiser person, who won’t hesitate to stand up for what she cares for, using her magic to better ends.

This read was perhaps a little confusing without more than just a basic notions about Greek mythology (the glossary at the end helps, though). I’m also not entirely happy with the ending, which I probably would have enjoyed more had it been reversed. Nevertheless, I found it mostly enjoyable and enthralling.

Yzabel / August 20, 2017

Review: Godblind

Godblind by Anna Stephens

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

There was a time when the Red Gods ruled the land. The Dark Lady and her horde dealt in death and blood and fire.

That time has long since passed and the neighbouring kingdoms of Mireces and Rilpor hold an uneasy truce. The only blood spilled is confined to the border where vigilantes known as Wolves protect their kin and territory at any cost.

But after the death of his wife, King Rastoth is plagued by grief, leaving the kingdom of Rilpor vulnerable.

Vulnerable to the blood-thirsty greed of the Warrior-King Liris and the Mireces army waiting in the mountains…

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley.]

Attractive cover is attractive! Red and black? Count me in!

This is fantasy of the darker and grittier kind. People fight and die in puddles of gore; the Red Gods thrive on human pain and sacrifices (and their priests and believers are all too happy to oblige); and intrigue abounds in every corner of the world, making it difficult for the characters to know who are their allies, and who are their foes.

This is also the kind of novel about which I hold very divided opinions, because its selling points and its negative points are, for me, often sides of a same coin.

To be honest, I had some trouble to get into the story at first (not because of the sacrifice and rape in the first chapters—I guess it’s more related to the fact I don’t read a lot of fantasy these days, and while I am generally interested, I tend to have a harder time to get immersed in it). This may partly have been due to the short chapters, some as short as 2-3 pages, which creates a fast pace but makes it difficult to get invested in the characters, their predicaments and their stakes, all the more since the story follows several characters, and since the violence at times seemed a wee bit… here for the shock factor more than anything else? As a result, I didn’t feel very close to either the ‘heroes’ or ‘villains’, and that sense of ‘yeah, OK, that must’ve hurt, but I don’t really care’ unfortunately stayed with me.

(The short chapters were a positive thing in a way, though: I often read while walking or in public transportation, or during short breaks at work, and such chapters make it very easy for me too ‘break’ my reading and resume later.)

Another side of the book that is both positive and a hindrance is that it’s the first book in a series, and it looks like it’s going to be epic, with lots of battles and high stakes (a whole kingdom falling into war, people seeing their homes destroyed and families slaughtered, ambitious rulers, treachery and traitors in the heart of power, etc.). This said, it makes the story read more like an introduction, a prologue of sorts, before we get to the actual meat.

Yet another ‘same coin’ aspect: the intrigue. On the one hand, the plot twists were very easy to guess (who’s going to be a traitor, who’s going to double-cross who, etc.). On the other hand, for me, they were also of the ‘I know where this is going but I’m excited nonetheless’ kind.

I did like some characters enough (especially Crys, he’s the kind of easygoing trickster type I’m easily drawn to in novels) to feel invested at times. I’d wish for a little less sexism and homophobia, though (not on the author’s part, just in that specific world in general; it’s like it’s never accepted in most worlds, anyway *sighs*).

Conclusion: More an introduction to the actual plot, and with strengths that are weaknesses at the same time, but still interesting enough that I’d like to read book 2.

Yzabel / April 19, 2016

Review: Monstrous Little Voices

Monstrous Little Voices: New Tales From Shakespeare’s Fantasy World by Jonathan Barnes

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

Mischief, Magic, Love and War.

It is the Year of Our Lord 1601. The Tuscan War rages across the world, and every lord from Navarre to Illyria is embroiled in the fray. Cannon roar, pikemen clash, and witches stalk the night; even the fairy courts stand on the verge of chaos.

Five stories come together at the end of the war: that of bold Miranda and sly Puck; of wise Pomona and her prisoner Vertumnus; of gentle Lucia and the shade of Prospero; of noble Don Pedro and powerful Helena; and of Anne, a glovemaker’s wife. On these lovers and heroes the world itself may depend.

These are the stories Shakespeare never told. Five of the most exciting names in genre fiction today – Jonathan Barnes, Adrian Tchaikovsky, Emma Newman, Foz Meadows and Kate Heartfield – delve into the world the poet created to weave together a story of courage, transformation and magic.

Including an afterword by Dr. John Lavagnino, The London Shakespeare Centre, King’s College London.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

A tale told through five different shorter stories, and by the hand of five different authors. “Monstrous Little Voices” picks some of Shakespeare’s plays (“The Tempest”, “Macbeth”, “Twelfth Night”…) and extrapolates on their themes and characters. Gender identity, the roles a gender may impose on a person, one’s decision to shake off those shackles and keep living without a care for the shape they’re in, the bravery of women acting “like men” (to the dismay of said men, poor creatures!)… More than once are those explored, while all the stories gather around a plot of impending war and intrigue, under the watchful eyes of fairies with their own agendas, and deities with shady plans as well.

There are a lot of cameos and cross-references here, and not knowing the works from which they sprang would lead to missing on quite a few good parts, so be prepared to brush up your Shakespeare before diving into this collection, and to know who we’re talking about when mentioning Miranda, Puck, Paroles or Helen—not to mention those characters who allude at yet other sources… much like Shakespeare himself found inspiration in various sources as well. And so, many, many times, the five tales entertwining here do so with their faire amount of echoes.

The first, second and third were clearly my favourites, both for their plots and for their themes. “Coral Bones” is the story of Miranda’s journey, after she left her island and realised that life among men, abiding by laws written for Man by men, was nothing to write home about. I particularly liked her take on gender, on wanting to be “human” and “oneself” above anything else, of not agreeing with those for whom gender should define one’s behaviour and ways of thinking. And this story definitely shows her as more resourceful and cunning than one would think. “The Course of True Love” was ripe with magic, metamorphoses, questioning about one’s true nature—and seeing older people at the heart of romance was extremely refreshing, showing that love can be born anywhere, anytime. As for “The Unkindest Cut”, I liked its self-fulfilling prophetic contents, and how it played on twisting words and visions; its end is bittersweet, full of dark promises… but here, too, showing another female character who’s determined to take her life between her hands (in an interesting twist, considering how blank she was at first, when all she wanted was to marry The Man).

On the other hand, I admit I didn’t care much for stories #4 and #5. “Even in the Cannon’s Mouth” felt too disjointed, a feeling made stronger as the story sometimes shifted to present tense. Finally, “On the Twelfth Night” tied the other stories in a way that somewhat made sense… but I have such a hard time with second person POV that trudging through those last pages wasn’t too pleasant (it’s even more jarring when the “you” is actually named, and isn’t “you the reader”—this just doesn’t make sense).

Conclusion: the first three stories were the root of most of my enjoyment here; I wished it had been the same with the others. 3,5 stars.

Yzabel / December 19, 2015

Review: The Pyramids of London

The Pyramids of London by Andrea K. Höst

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

In a world where lightning sustained the Roman Empire, and Egypt’s vampiric god-kings spread their influence through medicine and good weather, tiny Prytennia’s fortunes are rising with the ships that have made her undisputed ruler of the air.

But the peace of recent decades is under threat. Rome’s automaton-driven wealth is waning along with the New Republic’s supply of power crystals, while Sweden uses fear of Rome to add to her Protectorates. And Prytennia is under attack from the wind itself. Relentless daily blasts destroy crops, buildings, and lives, and neither the weather vampires nor Prytennia’s Trifold Goddess have been able to find a way to stop them.

With events so grand scouring the horizon, the deaths of Eiliff and Aedric Tenning raise little interest. The official verdict is accident: two careless automaton makers, killed by their own construct.

The Tenning children and Aedric’s sister, Arianne, know this cannot be true. Nothing will stop their search for what really happened.

Not even if, to follow the first clue, Aunt Arianne must sell herself to a vampire.

Review:

[I received a copy of this novel through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

Good ideas in terms of world building, although in general, I found the novel a little confusing.

Lots of concepts introduced here, with references to our world: Prytennia is obviously Britain, the Roman Empire and Egypt speak for themselves, and so it was very easy to picture the setting, geographically speaking. There’s still royalty in “Britain”: check. Lutèce is Paris: check (shall I admit to knowing quite a few cities’ old Roman names thanks to “Asterix”?). Various deities associated to various cults, like Cernunnos or Lakshmi: check. At first, it may look like a mish-mash, but it makes a lot of sense in a context where, many centuries ago, the Gods “Answered” people’s prayers and actually descended on the world, or made themselves incarnate in other ways. The Egyptian “gods”, for instance, who gave birth to several strains of vampirism, each with its own powers (the Shu control winds, the Thoth-den use their blood to heal people, the Ma’at can tell who’s lying…). Or Sulis (who in our world used to be worshipped at Bath), who manifests herself through three women, the Suleviae. For someone who knows a little about mythology, or even knows the very basics and wants to learn more, this book gives a few tracks to follow.

However, I didn’t get the same feeling here I got from the blurb. Prytennia’s climate seems to be warm (I immediately imagined cities close to the desert, with people wearing “skirts” instead of trousers), but I didn’t feel the urgency of being “under attack from the wind itself”. The political intrigues from the Swedes, through their representative Gustav, seemed to be more of an afterthought than something that would really affect Prytennia. The “selling oneself to a vampire” part didn’t seem that bad: more a contract for a decade or so, without aging, and I guess there are so many worse ways to indenture oneself. I don’t know if this came from the plot itself (Arianne and her nieces and nephew investigating to know what happened to the dead parents) or from the narrative, the way it was woven. Maybe I was expecting something else.

I also couldn’t push myself to really care for the characters. Arianne’s calm take on basically everything dampened the predicament she was in (potentially turning into a vampire against her will—that’s not a spoiler, you know about it in the very first chapters). The romantic interests came a little out of nowhere, and I’m not sure if they were exactly important when pitched against the backdrop of “who dunnit” and “there’s a secret behind what our parents were working on”. When some characters disappeared, I wasn’t so invested, because I hadn’t gotten to know them more beforehand, and they were more sidenotes for me than people. Mostly I felt that the characters were removed from themselves, dispassionately looking at their own lives from afar, and so in turn I looked at them from afar, too.

Still, I liked the world developed here. Perhaps a bit too much was shoved in the reader’s face from the beginning (any book that needs a glossary tends to be of that kind), but some more careful reading on my part allowed me to quickly grab what it was all about. And it’s definitely a good thing that a lot of the characters are women, and they do Important Things, and it’s completely normal because women in this world get to do Important Things all the time anyway, and it’s not only the men’s turf. (The Queen is part of a goddess incarnate and gets to mingle with dragons, one of the princesses commands a very special kind of guard/spies, girls get to study engineering and can land apprenticeships in workshops, or even have workshops of their own, without society making them feel “improper”… Etc.)

I may decide to grab the second volume at some point. I don’t know yet. I’m hovering around the 2.5 stars mark here, in between some parts I found “OK” and others that made me think “this is a good idea, I like it”. (Vampires especially: they aren’t emo creatures, they become like that due to a symbiotic relationship with specific strains living in their blood, they have souls, they believe in an Egyptian-like Otherworld where they have to strengthen their ba before being able to carry on.) If the next book can get past the somewhat-confusing approach to this world, and focuses more on the characters in a way that would make me feel involved, then I’ll be interested.

Yzabel / December 16, 2015

Review: Twelve Kings in Sharakhai

Twelve Kings in Sharakhai by Bradley P. Beaulieu

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

The first book in the Song of Shattered Sands trilogy—an epic fantasy in the vein of A Thousand and One Nights.

In the city of Sharakhai, Çeda fights in the pits to scrape by a living. She, like so many in the city, pray for the downfall of the cruel, immortal Kings of Sharakhai. Then on the holy night when the powerful yet wretched creatures known as the Asirim wander the city and take tribute in order to protect the Kings, one of them tells Çeda the origin of their dark bargain. And this dangerous secret may be the very key she needs to throw off the iron grip the Kings have had over Sharakhai…

Review:

[I received a copy of this novel through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

I’m not sure how to rate this book, so I’ll go with 3 stars for now.

It’s not a bad book, definitely not. It’s actually pretty interesting, with a setting that for once isn’t the typical “European medieval fantasy” one, and is closer to a kind of 1001 Nights world. A city in the desert, a little world of culture and trade with tribes from the outside, powerful and rife with intrigue, slum dwellers, thieves, pit fights, all under the watchful eyes of twelve immortal lords (the Kings) and their specially trained guard, the Maidens of the Blade (who are actual daughters of those kings, recruited and trained to serve their fathers, then train their sisters/cousins later). The Maidens have their own rituals, their own strifes, their special brand of loyalty to the Kings, who in turn also have *their* rituals: on the night of Beht Zha’ir, every six weeks, people close their doors and tremble in their homes, for the mysterious and dreadful asirim, servants of the Kings, walk the streets to take away those who have been “chosen”. And, of course, the chosen are never to be seen again.

In the middle of this setting, Çedamihn and her friend/heart brother, Emre, wade a world of intrigue: both as runners for Osman, and Çeda as fighter in the pits under the mask of the “White Wolf”. When Emre is attacked carrying the second half of a mysterious package, Çeda starts investigating, and soon discovers that she may have to dive at last in yet another world, of magic and legends, of gods and immortal beings: the one where her mother was killed by the Kings, the one where she is meant to avenge her, the one where she lets the adichara petals melt under her tongue to sharpen her sense, and sneaks in the desert at night to witness strange happenings in the sacred gardens full of blooms only the Kings and Maidens are allowed to harvest.

The author also plays on other points of view than Çeda’s, and also uses “flashback chapters” to bring in parts of her and Emre’s history. I know such techniques aren’t always well-liked, but as far as I was concerned, I thought them welcome. The flashbacks are inserted precisely where they matter, highlighting the main plot, and the secondary POVs were useful to grasp other sides of the world, when it wouldn’t have made sense for Çeda to live such moments.

In other words: intrigue and enchantment for me.

And yet, I don’t really know why, I spent quite some time poising between “want to keep reading” and “let’s read something else”. Maybe because this wasn’t a good period for me to read long fantasy books—in which case, by all means, don’t let this prevent you from giving a try at this first volume of the series. (For what it’s worth, at the moment, I really don’t feel like reading ASoIaF either.) Or maybe because, in some parts, the story moved a bit too slowly, with the plot being fairly obvious for the reader? (Çeda’s secret was too easy to guess for me, so by the time she discovered it herself, I had already moved on.)

Basically, the first and last chapters felt exciting. Same with others towards the middle. And then there were lulls.

However, by the end of the book, the setting is, well, ready for more, and different threads are woven. The Moonless Host. Çeda’s and Emre’s diverging paths, that may yet still bring them together in more than one way. The Kings and the Maidens, and Çeda’s involvment in their plots. The strange Meryam and her blood magic, as well as the lord travelling with her—their paths, too, aren’t as straightforward as they first appear…

This could definitely lead to something interesting, so I’m likely to keep an eye on this series to see how those plots unfurl.

Yzabel / October 18, 2015

Review: Homunculus and the Cat

Homunculus and the Cat by Nathan Croft

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Just a typical kitten saves the afterlife story, disguised as a book about death.

In a world where every culture’s mythology is real, Medusa’s sisters want revenge on Poseidon, Troy is under siege again, and the Yakuza want their homunculi (mythological artificial humans) back.

Near Atlantis’ Chinatown, a kitten and her human campaign for homunculi rights. Against them are Japanese death gods, an underworld cult, and a fat Atlantean bureaucrat.

The main character dies (more than once) and a few underworlds’ way of death is threatened.

There are Also giant armored battle squids.

Review:

[I received a copy of this novel from the publisher, in exchange for an honest review.]

Good ideas in this mash-up of various mythologies and their associated creatures, however, in the end, it was a bit too choppy to my taste.

The world of Gaia was inventive, fun, full of conundrums and syllogisms, all of those making for a place brimming with diversity… and with the problems associated to it, especially acceptance. This theme, along with the one of “humanity” in its largest meaning, was developed through the homunculi: artificial human-shaped beings, crafted by alchemists, gifted with certain powers, with a beautiful appearance for some, with intelligence and feelings, yet considered as unworthy because they didn’t have a soul—or so, some people said.

The political undercurrents permeating the story (the vote, the tricks used in Atlantis to thwart it against the homunculi, the strong will of a few people like Petra to help them get rights at last) were definitely interesting. Perhaps because of all the many creatures in this novel, the hypocrisy behind their reluctance to accept the “soulless” articificial beings was even more tangible, and made for a good metaphor of injustices happening in the human world. I can say I’d really have wanted this specific plot to shine more.

Where the mashup worked much less for me was in the narrative itself. A lot of things happened, more or less tied to the aforementioned plot depending on the moments, but they happened very fast, in a chaotic way. I guess it reflected the chaotic nature of Gaia, yet it didn’t male for a coherent read, and there were several moments when I had no idea anymore what was happening, why, or how the characters had come to that particular point or conclusion. Even though it made more sense once I read a few pages back, it was annoying nonetheless.

The other problem with such fast-paced events was that they didn’t leave much room to character development, and I felt I was told, rather than shown, the relationships between Tyro and the cat, Tyro and Mina, Tyro and Herakles… (Tyro wants to save him, but since I didn’t get to see them interact much, I didn’t feel very invested in knowing about the outcome. Same about Tyro and Ankh’Si: the conclusion here was so rushed I wasn’t sure if my copy of the book missed a chapter or two.)

I really liked the world developed here, however it was so diverse that it eclipsed the characters. Since I like those to be as developed in a “humoristic” read as in a “serious” one, albeit in different ways, I suppose, it didn’t work very well for me in the end.

Yzabel / August 23, 2015

Review: The Gospel of Loki

The Gospel of Loki by Joanne M. Harris

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

With his notorious reputation for trickery and deception, and an ability to cause as many problems as he solves, Loki is a Norse god like no other. Demon-born, he is viewed with deepest suspicion by his fellow gods who will never accept him as one of their own and for this he vows to take his revenge.

But while Loki is planning the downfall of Asgard and the humiliation of his tormentors, greater powers are conspiring against the gods and a battle is brewing that will change the fate of the Worlds.

From his recruitment by Odin from the realm of Chaos, through his years as the go-to man of Asgard, to his fall from grace in the build-up to Ragnarok, this is the unofficial history of the world’s ultimate trickster.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

I was quite keen on reading this one, but now that I’m done, I can’t help but feel that something was sorely lacking, and that the portrayal of several of the gods and goddesses wasn’t what I wanted to read.

Don’t get me wrong: different portrayals aren’t bad per se. They allow to shed another light on a character, to see a specific element in another way, to cast a whole other meaning and play with what is the “officially accepted” meaning, and so on. However, even though I’m fare from being a specialist in Norse mythology, I didn’t really understand some of the choices made here. For starters, what was wrong with Loki as a Jötunn (I’m not a proponento f Christian interpretations, so having here as a “demon” was definitely weird)? I especially couldn’t agree with the portrayal of Sigyn done here. I’ve always felt there should be more to her than what we know of, but seeing her reduced to a soupy housewife made half-crazed and happy to finally control his husband in the cave didn’t sit well with me. Granted, Loki made fun of all the gods and goddesses, only the way it happened with this one didn’t seem like an appropriate idea.

The tone of the story was somewhat light and funny in spite of the end of the Worlds it was bound to lead to, and highlighted Loki as a Trickster. The two episodes with Sleipnir and Thor disguised as a bride were particularly fun to read—I can never get tired of the latter, I guess. The gods and goddesses in general weren’t shown under their best colours, which here too fits with Loki’s point of view (being able to see the defects in people, himself included, and using them to his own advantage).

The “trickster tricked”, though, is another peeve I couldn’t shake off. Loki has always been a very ambiguous figure for me, not an evil one, so while his portrayal as being rejected because he’s a “demon” fits with his growing resentment (wouldn’t things have been different he had been accepted as Odin promised he’d be?), the end result looked more like a child being constantly thwarted and then whining about his fate, than a God bent on revenge for having been wronged once too often. This is not the kind of Loki I wanted to read about. He deserves more than that; his being tricked does happen (Útgarða-Loki being a good example), yet it quickly felt as if he always got the end of the shaft without never learning anything, and it doesn’t seem believable that a character like this one could be tricked from beginning to end.

I was probably also a bit annoyed by the omniscient view cast over the story, as it is told from Loki’s point of view after Ragnarök: I tend to grow quickly tired of structures of the “but the worst was still to come” kind. It didn’t help me to stay immersed in the narrative.

Overall it was a strange reading experience: when I was in it, it was alright, but every time I stopped, I had trouble picking the book again. It *is* pretty close to the Edda stories in some ways if you except the demon/Pandaemonium one, and probably this is both a strong and a weak point, as in the end, apart from being narrated by Loki, it doesn’t bring that much novelty or development to the already known myths. The Gods remain fairly one-dimensional, and while it was somewhat fun to read, I don’t feel like I’ll be opening this book again one day.

Yzabel / June 20, 2015

Review: Crashing Heaven

Crashing Heaven by Al Robertson

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

A diamond-hard, visionary new SF thriller. Nailed-down cyberpunk ala William Gibson for the 21st century meets the vivid dark futures of Al Reynolds in this extraordinary debut novel.

With Earth abandoned, humanity resides on Station, an industrialised asteroid run by the sentient corporations of the Pantheon. Under their leadership a war has been raging against the Totality – ex-Pantheon AIs gone rogue.

With the war over, Jack Forster and his sidekick Hugo Fist, a virtual ventriloquist’s dummy tied to Jack’s mind and created to destroy the Totality, have returned home.

Labelled a traitor for surrendering to the Totality, all Jack wants is to clear his name but when he discovers two old friends have died under suspicious circumstances he also wants answers. Soon he and Fist are embroiled in a conspiracy that threatens not only their future but all of humanity’s. But with Fist’s software licence about to expire, taking Jack’s life with it, can they bring down the real traitors before their time runs out?

Review:

(I received a copy through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

3.5/4 stars. This book is definitely of the bleak cyberpunk varity. People escaping their lives through augmented reality. Being able to bring the dead ones to life by using the memories they left imprinted into servers, which in turns makes them puppets, as the living can do a roll-back to specific moments of their former lives whenever they want. “Gods” that may or may not be AIs, revealing the inner despair of those who worship them, as they don’t seem to be anything else left to clutch to—and ironically contrasting (or not?) with the Totality, openly proclaimed AIs. The world the story’s set in is mainly a decadent solar system. Earth isn’t such a nice place anymore. Humans live on Station, and formerly on Mars and the moon, before the Soft War destroyed this, and the peace is fragile at best.

Jack Forster, the protagonist, an accountant unwillingly turned soldier, has spent years in prison after having surrendered to the Totality and being branded a traitor. When he’s finally set free, it’s only to face dire prospects: almost completely cut from the weave (augmented reality internet), thus unable to see the world as everybody else does; closely monitored by Internal Security as a parolee; haunted by the very case that prompted caused him to be sent to the front; and, last but not least, soon to be wiped off, personality-wise, by Hugo Fist, a combat-AI shaped as a puppet and installed within him.

Jack could just take it easy, live his last weeks quietly before his mind is obliterated by Fist’s, make peace with his loved ones (what’s left of them: his friends all turned their backs on him after his surrender). And yet, he keeps wanting to do something, to make things right, to reopen that old case and discover who had him and the other people involved disappear in various ways—even though this means being pitched against those who have so much more power than him. It’s somewhat useless, futile, but still heroic in its own way.

The writing was a bit rough on the edges at times, with bursts of short sentences that, even though they fit the pace, felt somewhat awkward. As we’re thrust into the world of Station, we have to piece things together, which wasn’t always easy (but to be honest, I prefer to have to do such “work” rather than be fed pages of info-dumping). There were some predictable turns of events, too, especially at the end. However, the action made them interesting, and mostly I managed to ignore what bothered me in terms of style, and to remain focused on the story.

I couldn’t help but see Hugo Fist as the puppet in that Buffy episode, “The Puppet Show”: creepy, aggressive, and foul-mouthed. He and his fellow combat-AIs were shaped as puppets in order to be more appealing to children, as their birth directly followed a terrorist attack on the moon, one that killed hundreds of kids… And this was just frightening and wrong, because Fist and the other puppets would likely have been terrifying for most children. There’s such a dicrepancy here, which is part of those twisted themes I enjoyed in the book: toys turned killing machines (the Totality’s minds *are* minds, not mere rotes unable to evolve or have ideas of their own), the lines getting blurred between what’s right and wrong, people lost in their worship to the point of ignoring their own dreams (Corazon) or clutching at the past (Lestak and Issie)…

I liked the relationship between Jack and Hugo, in any case. Fist kept nagging him about what he’d do once he’d inherit his body, urging him not to do anything dangerous in order not to damage it, and Jack managed to face this in quite a stoic way. It’s not even like Fist was threatening him: none of them had a say in it, in fact, as it was all a matter of lease and contract in a world ruled by corporate entities and automated such contracts.

The puppet also evolved throughout the story, as any properly-devised AI should, and was definitely more of the jerk with a heart of cold kind, rather than remaining a murderer of artificial minds (or worse). I couldn’t help but to smile at his gleeful antics, the “fun” he took in getting into the action after Jack decided to see things through, the way he went about manipulating data and breaking into servers, reflecting a change he wasn’t even aware of.

Conclusion: A bit rough in parts due to the style, and not always too easy to follow, but I thoroughly enjoyed the themes developed here, as well as the main characters.

Yzabel / November 23, 2014

Review: Unborn

Unborn by Amber Lynn Natusch

My rating: [rating=1]

Summary:

Born into mystery. Shackled to darkness…

Khara has spent centuries discovering everything about the Underworld―except her place in it. But when she’s ripped from her home, solving the riddle of her origins becomes more important than ever. With evil stalking her through the dark alleys of Detroit, she finds salvation from an unlikely source: a group of immortal warriors sworn to protect the city. Khara needs their help to unravel the tangled secrets of who and what she is—secrets many seem willing to kill for. But time is running out, and the closer she gets to the truth, the closer necessity binds her to an arrogant fallen angel.

Can their shaky alliance withstand that which threatens her, or will her soul fall victim to the unholy forces that hunt her―those that seek the Unborn?

Review:

(I got a copy courtesy of NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

I shall be honest and say that I was one inch from DNFing this one. About four or five times. I trudged on because I felt I owed the book a review, since I had requested it, but I just can’t recommend it. Instead, I shall thank the local bus system and this past week’s early work shift, because they provided me with reading time at something-too-early AM, which made itall the more bearable.

I seriously wanted to like this. Roots in Greek mythology. A ward of Hades, snatched from the Underworld. The idea behind the treaty between Hades and Demeter, providing an interesting diplomatic explanation to Persephone being allowed to go back to her mother for six months every year. Khara’s origins, being the daughter of a kickass god, in spite of his usual shortcomings. Well, grantd, Detroit was kind of cliché—it seems like the Bleak City of Bleakiness of Doom for anything horror or supernatural—but hey, whatever, as long as it works!

Only it didn’t.

My very first gripe, and unfortunately one that lasted for the whole novel, was Khara’s narrative style, which I can only decribe as stilted and “trying too hard”:

Our destination was on the far side of the mob before us, and I cringed at the thought of having to navigate through them all, their sweaty stench already offending me from where I stood. Without time to relay those concerns to Kierson, he took my hand and pulled me behind him as he cut his way through the mass with ease. Though I was loath to admit it, there was something strangely appealing being surrounded by the dancing horde, swallowed up in their debauchery. I had not expected to find it so amenable.

I’ll acknowledge it tried to stray from basic, bland prose (because a book is urban fantasy, paranormal, young adult, etc. doesn’t mean its writing has to be dumbed down, for sure). However, by doing so, it achieved the contrary, making everything feel heavy-handed—all the more because dialogues, too, were in the same style. All the characters spoke in very similar ways, at odds with their surroundings, their usual places of dwelling, the kind of lifestyle they lived. I just can’t envision any son of Ares speaking like this:

“No,” Drew replied with an ounce of hesitation. “I have made the decision to hold off on that for now. He has his hands full out east. I see no reason to burden him with this as well, especially when there is nothing to report other than her existence. What he is dealing with has potentially far more disastrous implications than learning he has a sister. I do not think he needs a distraction to derail his focus.”

And Khara’s narrative remained like this all the time, even during fight scenes. So maybe, just maybe, her upbringing in the Underworld would have made her a wee mite uptight, but… No, not even that would really justify it.

I also couldn’t bring myself to care for Khara. Making her the a daughter of a war deity could at least have warranted a few nice traits. Natural ability for fighting, a mind cut for strategy, being world champion at chess… Whatever. But mostly, she remained passive and useless, observing everything, barely feeling a thing (well, that’s how her narrative made me feel, that is). The girl standing in the middle, the one that has to be protected and saved because she barely fends for herself, in spite of claiming she has spent centuries in the Underworld surviving her lot of blows. The one all the guys around fight for—thankfully not as a love polygon, since most of them are her brothers, but they still came off as “you’re the girl and so you stay here and when we tell you not to move, you don’t move.” She alleges her ability might actually be to “stay out of trouble”. Then here’s what she does:

“Stay close, and always behind me.”
[…]
I walked toward the voices, wanting to see just how the situation would play out. Would whatever creature Kierson pursued let her go, or would he face the wrath of my brother? Furthermore, I had a strange desire building within me that demanded to see just what the assailant was. I had not seen the evil that I had been so constantly told of since meeting Drew and the others. Curiosity got the better of me.
Just as I rounded a thick concrete pillar, I could see the three of them, though light was still scarce. A thin and sickly looking man held the young girl, her face cupped in his hands, mouths nearly touching. The second I stepped into view, his hollow, empty eyes snapped directly to me.
And they never left.

Excuse me for not quite believing that, Khara. Also, for questioning centuries’ worth of understanding ability:

“You are not going anywhere, especially not until we know more about why you came here in the first place. […] If you’re finally feeling rested, you should join us.”
“But you said to stay right where I am…”
He laughed heartily.
“Not literally right where you are. I meant I would feel better if you stayed with us.”

I just… I just can’t. Sorry.

I’m not even going to touch the romance here; no chemistry whatsoever between Khara the Bland and typical Tall, Dark and Dangerous Guy. Or how the psychopath who’s been trying to own Khara for centuries is brushed aside as a threat from the beginning, before someone finally starts to remember that maybe, just maybe, he should be kept in their computations. You know, just in case.

This novel was definitely not for me.