NetGalley Archives - Page 31 of 47

Yzabel / July 8, 2015

Review: Serafina and the Black Cloak

Serafina and the Black Cloak by Robert Beatty

My rating: [usr 4]

Blurb:

“Never go into the deep parts of the forest, for there are many dangers there, and they will ensnare your soul.”

Serafina has never had a reason to disobey her pa and venture beyond the grounds of the Biltmore estate.There’s plenty to explore in her grand home, although she must take care to never be seen. None of the rich folk upstairs know that Serafina exists; she and her pa, the estate’s maintenance man, have secretly lived in the basement for as long as Serafina can remember.

But when children at the estate start disappearing, only Serafina knows who the culprit is:a terrifying man in a black cloak who stalks Biltmore’s corridors at night. Following her own harrowing escape, Serafina risks everything by joining forces with Braeden Vanderbilt, the young nephew of the Biltmore’s owners. Braeden and Serafina must uncover the Man in the Black Cloak’s true identity before all of the children vanish one by one.

Serafina’s hunt leads her into the very forest that she has been taught to fear. There she discovers a forgotten legacy of magic, one that is bound to her own identity. In order to save the children of Biltmore, Serafina must seek the answers that will unlock the puzzle of her past.

Review:

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

I will confess to requesting this book mostly because of its cover, in a “oh this looks pretty” moment. I don’t regret it, for the story itself was fairly entertaining as well, and cute to boot.

Serafina lives with her father in the basement of a huge mansion, in the last years of the 19th century in the United States. There’s a slight steampunkish atmosphere to that mansion, as it’s crammed full to the brim of trinkets and machines to make those work, notably the dynamo Sera’s father is in charge of. There’s horror, in the shape of the Man with the Black Cloak, catching children at night and making them disappear within the folds of his costume. There’s magical realism, with the forest, its legends, its old cemetery with a statue of an angel, and a quaint atmosphere, full of gentlemen and ladies, of little girls in nice dresses and little boys with their faithful dog and horses companions. There’s mystery and a sense of adventure, for Serafina knows all the corridors and chimneys and tiny places in which to hide, and moves around unseen, able to spy on people and thus to discover pieces of the puzzle that no one else had.

While the setting might look a bit far-fetched, with its dozens or so or people always staying at Biltmore and its over-a-hundred rooms (although it was indeed a real house, historically speaking), I thought it worked very well for this kind of tale, providing a greater than life place from which it would be nevertheless difficult to escape—and so, of course, the characters had to face whatever awaited them. Surrounded with hills and a mysterious forest, the mansion wasn’t the kind of house you could leave just like that, as doing so implied potential dangerous encounters in the wilderness. The mysterious man on the prowl in the halls at night lent a feeling of foreboding to the story, effectively trapping the children in their rooms… and those who would be walking around at night were sure preys.

Sera’s and Braeden’s friendship was so very cute. Sera never had any friends, due to having to stay hidden. Braden felt at odds with other children, and was wary of striking new friendships after what happened to his family. Two kids, not teenagers yet, still innocent in many ways—the rat-catcher girl living at night, the boy who preferred dogs and horses to other people—getting to find each other, understand each other better, appreciate each other no matter their differences. It was quite refreshing.

Too bad that I had my suspicions about who Serafina and the Black Cloak really were, and had them too early: the hints were easy enough to decipher for me (including a certain encounter in the forest). It didn’t matter that much, though; the story remained nicely enchanting and eerie. Foreshadowing can, after all, also lead to knowing yet to still eagerly awaiting the actual events and reveals themselves.

(If anything else, I also wondered about some of the adults’ reactions, especially the Vanderbilts sending their nephew away; in the light of the other children’s disappearances, it was somewhat logical, but the timing was weird. Wouldn’t that have put him in more danger, having to go through the forest at night?)

Nevertheless, this novel will likely be enjoyable for a lot of younger readers… and not so young ones as well, all things considered.

Yzabel / July 6, 2015

Review: A Murder of Mages

A Murder of Mages by Marshall Ryan Maresca

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

A Murder of Mages marks the debut of Marshall Ryan Maresca’s novels of The Maradaine Constabulary, his second series set amid the bustling streets and crime-ridden districts of the exotic city called Maradaine. A Murder of Mages introduces us to this spellbinding port city as seen through the eyes of the people who strive to maintain law and order, the hardworking men and women of the Maradaine Constabulary.

Satrine Rainey—former street rat, ex-spy, mother of two, and wife to a Constabulary Inspector who lies on the edge of death, injured in the line of duty—has been forced to fake her way into the post of Constabulary Inspector to support her family.

Minox Welling is a brilliant, unorthodox Inspector and an Uncircled mage—almost a crime in itself. Nicknamed “the jinx” because of the misfortunes that seem to befall anyone around him, Minox has been partnered with Satrine because no one else will work with either of them.

Their first case together—the ritual murder of a Circled mage— sends Satrine back to the streets she grew up on and brings Minox face-to-face with mage politics he’s desperate to avoid. As the body count rises, Satrine and Minox must race to catch the killer before their own secrets are exposed and they, too, become targets.

Review:

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

Pretty entertaining, in the vein of urban medieval fantasy I tend to favour (as opposed to more traditional “travel” fantasy). Gritty streets, characters with a past and forced to hide secrets that could be so easily exposed, family issues, corruption in the ranks, bureaucracy, a criminal to catch, seedy dealings going on at night on the docks and in warehouses… Yes, I definitely prefer my fantasy tinged with such themes.

I especially liked the main characters here. Each of them had their share to deal with, and couldn’t conveniently ignore what was going on in their daily lives. In fact, it was even the contrary of the “conveniently an orphan” trope: both Satrine and Minox have families. And they’re in their faces. Every day. Whether because they are so many members that you could lose count of them, or because the few left need to be taken care of in more than one way.

Satrine’s deception was motivated by the need to feed her family—her husband was heavily injured, unable to care for them anymore, and she had to deal with the fact that perhaps, just perhaps, it would’ve been easier on them all if he had died, as she would’ve been able to collect her widow’s pension and school her daughters. That would’ve been the easy way out. Instead, she remained fiercely loyal to him, still nurturing hopes thay someday, he’d slowly wake up and become who he used to be again. Should her forgery be forgiven? Perhaps, perhaps not. In any case, her motives were clearly born from love, and she still held her own and showed that the only fake thing in all this was a piece of paper: as a former Intelligence operative, she had the right set of mind, and the right skills, to earn her place among other inspectors.

Minox had his own issues to face. I guess his story wasn’t as fascinating as Satrine’s in that he didn’t have the same hurdles to face, in a line of work where women could expect to be lowly-paid clerks or only very slowly climbing the latter. However, there were other sides to his development that were interesting, and could go on being so. Being an untrained mage in a city where all trained (“Circled”) mages spat on him, for starters. People around him knowing what he was, fearing and despising it for him, or choosing to never talk about it. His ability as an inspector was real no matter what, with a black sheep aspect that set him aside, yet pushed him to work hard (cf. the numerous, somewhat freaky cold cases he considered as actually unsolved). One intriguing thing as well was how he somehow appeared as alone among a crowd, his family, due to his character and to his awkward position as a late-bloomer when it came to magic; in fact, he was probably closer to his somewhat crazy/obsessed/depressed/I’m not sure what cousin, with a history of madness running in the family, and the lingering, everlasting question: “Will he turn like our grandfather… and will *I* turn like that, too?”

And no romance! There’s no room for useless romance her, only solid partnership resting on cooperation, skills and mutual respect. It would’ve been so easy to throw in some silly feelings and/or sexual attraction. The author didn’t go that way, which I’m tremendously thankful for. Satrine and Minox have enough to worry about without adding that to the mix.

Maradaine seemed like a teeming place, bustling with various people, some very normal for such a setting, and others fairly quirky, like the mystery-meat pie seller, the street urchins turned bad mothers (or spies, like Satrine), or the butcher with a tendency to immediately throw “sticks” (policemen) out of his shop. All those people contributed to make the city look like a place filled with diversity. I would’ve liked to know more about the mages and their circles, though. I understand this series runs parallel to another one, so perhaps I’d need to read both to fully grasp that side of the world building? I thought there weren’t that many insights into the Circles’ politics, about what their potential feuds would involve (apart from obvious destruction), or about where exactly they stood when it came to the various powers and government type in Maradaine.

The novel also neatly ties up the main crime plot (a little too neatly, considering there weren’t that many clues for the reader to work with, so I didn’t have much to chew on in that regard), while leaving open other avenues for more stories. How Satrine will have to deal with the other inspectors and patrol(wo)men, and balance the dangers of her new job with her family’s needs. Minox’s need to deal with his magic ability, even though he’d like to ignore it. Corruption inside the Constabulary, possibly higher in the hierarchy. And what really did happen to Loren Rainey? Was it an investigation gone wrong, or something shadier? I can forgive the somewhat weak mystery, as long as those get more limelight later.

This is a series whose second installment I’m definitely willing to pick.

Yzabel / July 4, 2015

Review: City

City by Clifford D. Simak

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

Intelligent canines in a far-future city preserve the legends and lore of their absent human masters.

Thousands of years have passed since humankind abandoned the city—first for the countryside, then for the stars, and ultimately for oblivion—leaving their most loyal animal companions alone on Earth. Granted the power of speech centuries earlier by the revered Bruce Webster, the intelligent, pacifist dogs are the last keepers of human history, raising their pups with bedtime stories, passed down through generations, of the lost “websters” who gave them so much but will never return. With the aid of Jenkins, an ageless service robot, the dogs live in a world of harmony and peace. But they now face serious threats from their own and other dimensions, perhaps the most dangerous of all being the reawakened remnants of a warlike race called “Man.”

In the Golden Age of Asimov and Heinlein, Clifford D. Simak’s writing blazed as brightly as anyone’s in the science fiction firmament. Winner of the International Fantasy Award, City is a magnificent literary metropolis filled with an astonishing array of interlinked stories and structures—at once dystopian, transcendent, compassionate, and visionary.

Review:

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

A hard one to rate, for sure. 3.5 stars?

On the one hand, it’s one of the classics of “old science fiction” I’ve always wanted to read—I only recently linked its English title to the French one. And, like many stories written several decades ago, it retains a quaint charm. Science that was prominent in minds at the time (atomic power…). Themes of a better world, of Man evolving into better beings, renouncing the old ways of killing, even of living in cities. Openings towards strange, new dimensions, even though reaching for those would involve a complete change of perception. But also sadness: the end of a world, of several worlds, humanity devolving into solitary creatures, then nothing, leaving Earth into the “hands” or dogs and robots. A sort of paradise, untainted by the concepts haunting human beings… yet here, too, a solitary one, for while the dogs developed their own society, they, too, were haunted by the idea of Man, kept alive by Jenkins, the faithful robot who served the Webster family.

On the other hand, I have to admit that a lot of those were painfully outdated for a 21st-century person. I’d probably have appreciated these stories more if I had read them when I was much younger—in other words, especially when it came to all those “atomic” thingies, back when I still had recollections (although heavily filtered through my child’s eyes) of Chernobyl, and a vague fear of the Cold War. I would’ve missed other themes, for sure, but maybe some of the “scientific” ones wouldn’t have struck me as so wobbly. Granted, this was unavoidable; a lot of SF classics would suffer the same fate. It did bother me to an extent, and that was really too bad.

The biological side of science here didn’t make much sense either: mutants; people turning themselves into creatures adapted to life on Jupiter; ants developing a kind of clockwork/steam power; dogs being given words and voice while still forced to rely on robots for want of hands (why would surgery on vocal chords translate into heavy genetic changes in just a few generations?). And generally speaking, the Earth described in “City” was just too big, too empty, to justify the maintainenance of robots as a whole (no factories were mentioned, for instance), with the passage of thousands of years emphasising the “how did they manage to last for so long?” question.

And yet, I cannot deny these stories, as well as the way they are linked, a certain power. Not in the writing itself, not in the obsolete or weird science, but in how they conveyed strong feelings. The despair of one man, whose fears doomed humanity to lose an important philosophical theory that could’ve changed the world forever. The end of a city, abandoned by people who preferred to live in the country, an echo of the suburbian dream. Men left behind and choosing to dive into endless sleep in the last surviving city, forever enclosed within countermeasures long forgotten, for there was no point to staying awake anymore and kill their boredom with hobbies become meaningless. Robots performing tasks even after their owners had died and gone. Dogs keeping a promise, passed down from a long-dead ancestor, a promise the meaning of which had been somewhat lost. Man, both the god-creator and a legend in which dogs only half believed.

It *is* definitely strange, for the human characters were not particularly striking. I guess the book managed to tell what it had to tell through other means, among which the dogs and Jenkins?

So I could not wrap my mind around the nonsensical science… but the feelings were here, and kept coming back at me, along with reflections on what it means to be human, on what humans could d/evolve into. And although this wasn’t my favourite read of the year, it will stay with me for some time no matter what, and I would still recommend it.

Yzabel / July 2, 2015

Review: Black-Eyed Susans

Black-Eyed Susans by Julia Heaberlin

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

A girl’s memory lost in a field of wildflowers.
A killer still spreading seeds.

At seventeen, Tessa became famous for being the only surviving victim of a vicious serial killer. Her testimony put him on death row. Decades later, a mother herself, she receives a message from a monster who should be in prison. Now, as the execution date rapidly approaches, Tessa is forced to confront a chilling possibility: Did she help convict the wrong man?

Review:

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

4 stars. This is the first time I read anything by this author, and I admit that when I picked it among my ever-growing pile of ARCs to read, I didn’t even really remember what it was about. Which was probably for the best, as comparisons with other authors (such as often seen in blurbs) sometimes affect me in a negative way. You know, the “this is the next X”, or “X meets Y in this breathtaking novel.” So I was able, for once, to approach a story without remembering that. And it was good.

The novel deals with Tessa, the victim of a serial-killer, who survived and managed to send her would-be murderer to jail, where he’s waiting for the death penalty to be applied. Years later, now a mother with a bubbly, cheerful daughter of her own—a daughter who’s as carefree as the pre-killer Tessa—she is still haunted by those memories, or rather by the lack thereof: no matter what, she still can’t remember everything from her ordeal, and what she remembers of it may or may not be the truth. Moreover, Tessa’s starting to have second-thoughts: what if the man about to die was an innocent, and the real psychopath still out there?

“Black-Eyed Susans” deals with several interesting themes: psychologic and physical trauma (Tessa after the “event”), lies (what was told and untold when it came to the trial), forgiveness (the man on death row), fear (being potentially stalked by the actual killer, or even seeing him target the daughter)… There are very likeable characters, like Charlie, and others who sow constant doubts as to their loyalty and real intentions. There came a moment when it was difficult to tell what was only in Tessa’s mind, what was triggered by other people’s delusions, and what may have been actual happenings—although I still managed to narrow down my suspicions regarding to the killer to two, then one person relatively soon.

This book also has two things I really like: an unreliable narrator, and a narrative switching from present to past to present again. While the latter can be a deal-breaker for some readers, I personally like that technique. It made it tricky to determine where were the turning points, while at the same time giving hints. Some of those were just a tad bit heavy-handed, but… Overall I liked the story overall no matter what.

Yzabel / June 30, 2015

Review: The Red Mohawk

The Red Mohawk by Anonymous

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

Everything seems peaceful in the small town of B Movie Hell until a mysterious serial killer in a skull mask topped with a red mohawk shows up and starts butchering the locals. Government agents Jack Munson and Milena Fonseca are sent to track down and eliminate the masked psychopath. But as they soon discover, the residents of B Movie Hell don’t want their help. This is a town like no other, and the locals have many dark secrets….

Already a hit in France and Germany with film rights optioned by Tobey Maguire’s Material Pictures, The Red Mohawk is a fun, outrageous and bloody thriller full of cinematic references and homages to many cult movies.

Review:

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

An entertaining novel, one that follows closely in the footsteps of a (bad) slasher movie, indeed—so I would advise to read it as a parody, and not take it too seriously, even though it deals with a serial killer and, well, plenty of dead people. It’s full of references to 70s and 80s movies and music, of tropes constantly played upon (the FBI agent with a bottle problem, the small town setting with its lot of people all knowing *something*, the serial killer escaped from an asylum…), and there’s no doubt that this could be easily turned into a movie as well, since its format is basically the same.

There’s lots of humour, lots of gore as well, and action of the cheesy type, that made me snicker on a regular basis. The characters are mostly stereotypes, obviously, but at least everybody gets their share of it: even though at first, I thought “my, the women are all underdogs here”, the guys don’t fare better, and end up the same way. The asylum part was definitely funny in a sort of gross way, as doubt was sown as to who was actually running it, and a certain FBI agent decided to show an inmate who was the boss. It’s… special, but it still made me laugh.

There *is* a plot, too, in spite of the apparent whatever-goes road the story takes at first. It’s not just random killing here and there. The Red Mohawk does have a plan and an objective, and let’s say there’s method to his madness.

An issue for me—which may have been an issue with my copy, but is perhaps still in the published book—was the half-done editing. I noticed too many mistakes and typos (affect instead of effect, grammar mistakes, repetitive expressions) that kept pulling me out of the story. While I enjoyed the latter, the writing style itself wasn’t that great. Also, the story seemed to peter out a little by the end, as if it was being rushed to its conclusion.

Nevertheless, in spite of the issues in style and editing, this novel provided me with a hefty dose of fun. 3.5 stars out of 5.

Yzabel / June 28, 2015

Review: Thirteen Days of Midnight

Thirteen Days of Midnight by Leo Hunt

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

When Luke Manchett’s estranged father dies suddenly, he leaves his son a dark inheritance. Luke has been left in charge of his father’s ghost collection: eight restless spirits. They want revenge for their long enslavement, and in the absence of the father, they’re more than happy to take his son. It isn’t fair, but you try and reason with the vengeful dead.

Halloween, the night when the ghosts reach the height of their power, is fast approaching. With the help of school witchlet Elza Moss, and his cowardly dog Ham, Luke has just thirteen days to uncover the closely guarded secrets of black magic, and send the unquiet spirits to their eternal rest. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.

Review:

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

3.5 stars. Entertaining and somewhat funny at times, while still conveying a sense of danger—alright, maybe not terribly frightening per se for me, as I don’t frighten easily when reading books, but I think it has the right potential nonetheless. Half the Host at least was creepy in more ways than one, from the Shepherd with his glasses to the Prisoner with his shears… and even the Innocent, for the questions he raised (who would leash a *baby* as their pet ghost, really?!). The Host wasn’t a bunch of good guys, apart from a couple, and even those remained on the fence and never said the whole truth, only intervening at a “right” moment that could’ve been just a tad bit sooner for good measure.

As I’m a sucker for necromancy in general, of course I couldn’t help but look for the questions it raised. And there were several. The baby I mentioned, for starters. Why Luke’s father turned to such a type of magic, and why he bound such a large Host, when nothing at first indicated he even needed one (this is explained later in the book). Whether Luke would accept this part of his inheritance and be lured towards a desire for power, or try to remain who he was and have a normal life. Choices to make, and forgiveness. This wasn’t just about getting rid of a bunch of ghosts, but also choosing to protect or to condemn other people.

I liked the dynamics between Luke and Elza—there’s a smidge of a budding romance in there, one that doesn’t detract from the plot, and develops slowly: good! Luke realised he couldn’t clutch forever to his little life as one of the “popular” crowd, in the face of something much biger and dangerous. Elza was resourceful, and overall a nice person, trying to help people who had been treating her like an outcast just because she didn’t want to fit their mould. Holiday, too, was a bit of an ambiguous person: picking her friends among the popular ones and discarding the others, but not to the extent of becoming a mean girl. She was barely more than a crush, yet at least she was a believable one. As for the lawyer, well… Even though you don’t get to see him much, he was perfectly cast in his role.

Oh, and Ham. Ham the deerhound. A very short part of the novel is actually from his point of view, and that was quite funny. It would’ve been annoying if it had been longer; kept to a few paragraphs, it wasn’t, and definitely made me smile.

Other characters were less defined, unfortunately: Mark, Kirk, even Luke’s mother, who remains ill/asleep for most of the novel. That last one was a bit of a letdown, as in turn, it was difficult to properly get to know her and to share Luke’s worries for her for any other reason than “she’s his mom”.

Sometimes Luke’s reactions made me cringe, as he seemed to switch from one to the other real quick. It didn’t happen that often, and it could be explained by panic and worry; only it made me wonder why he’d get such reactions. (For instance, when it’s been made clear that you’re haunted by ghosts and that those have put a certain person in a coma, dragging that person to a hospital won’t be very useful, especially not considering all the people who die in a hospital.) A couple of times, too, I picked some absolutely obvious clues that totally eluded the characters (re: the familiar); on the other hand, all things considered, maybe that’s a case of being too genre-savvy on my part, so I can’t very well hold it against characters who were either totally new to the supernatural, or barely fledglings (Elza admitted herself she was self-taught).

There was a slight lull in the middle while the characters were powerless and trying to figure out what to do—not that Luke’s father had been very helpful to begin with. They came up with an interesting idea in the end, so I forgave them.

The writing was OK, nothing exceptional, nothing blatantly annoying either. It should flow nicely enough for the intended audience. (Also, my Kindle copy was a bit oddly formatted; however, this is an ARC, so likely to change.)

Conclusion: 3.5 stars rounded to 4, because in spite of the points I mentioned, I pretty much enjoyed it. The story is also self-contained, yet open-ended enough to leave room for a sequel (someone’s bound to come back and collect their dues here, not to mention what may or may not happen between Luke and Elza, and how their fellow pupils would react to it).

Yzabel / June 27, 2015

Review: The Truth According To Us

The Truth According to Us: A Novel by Annie Barrows

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Evoking the same small town charm with the same great eye for character, the co-author of GUERNSEY LITERARY & POTATO PEEL SOCIETY finds her own voice in this debut novel about a young debutante working for the Federal Writer’s Project whose arrival in Macedonia, West Virginia changes the course of history for a prominent family who has been sitting on a secret for decades. The Romeyn family is a fixture in the town, their identity tied to its knotty history. Layla enters their lives and lights a match to the family veneer and a truth comes to light that will change each of their lives forever.

Review:

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

This was a strange read, one that I both liked, but less than I had hoped and expected. To be honest, I found the book a wee bit too long. Somehow, it felt like it could’ve been tightened, and although the last chapters, after the “reveal”, were needed, they still seemed to drag a little.

The style here mixes present tense first person narrative, past tense third person narrative, and excerpts from letters. I liked the tone of those, especially Layla’s, as they were witty, and at the same time revealed her lack of experience in other circumstances than those she had grown up in. I’m not sure what to make of the past/present/POV choice—as usual. I’ve seen this technique used more and more in the past few years, and I can never tell if it’s a good idea or if it irks me. Both, I suppose. Here, I was more bothered when the third person narrative jumped from one character to another within the span of a couple of paragraphs.

Macedonia had the charms of a little town in summer, with its quirky people, its own unspoken rules, its skeletons in the closet, whether in the past (the soldiers who spend the night in the house of a lady… of the evening, or the general who was actually crazy enough to shoot his own son) or in the present (what happened to Vause, Felix’s actual occupation). I found myself wanting to discover more about its history as seen through the eyes of its inhabitants.

Layla didn’t strike me as particularly interesting, yet turned out better than I thought, at least, proving to others (and to herself) that she could be more than a future trophy wife, and that she wasn’t so stupid—only sheltered. While she didn’t approach her task as a historian in the most objective manner, which is impossible anyway as history is never objective, she still did it with the intent of writing about Macedonia’s past in an interesting way. What I didn’t like was the emotional part of her involvement when it came to a specific character, as it was so painfully obvious that she was being played… and after that, unfortunately, she kind of fell flat.

Other characters I found annoying on a regular basis, and it seemed that mostly nobody knew what they really wanted. Not unexpected (*I* don’t know what I want in life, after all!), but annoying after a while. I still don’t know if everybody was completely selfish reflections of how bleak human nature is, stupid, full of love, lying to themselves, hiding their inner pain, wanting only what others had… All of that, I guess? On the one hand, it was interesting, showing that the “idyllic little southern town” was all but. On the other hand, characters like Jottie constantly made me think “can’t you be happy with one choice in your life, for a change?” (Basically, she denied herself for 18 years, then when she finally chose for herself, it was “too easy”, thus worthless. I wouldn’t call 18 years “too easy”, but maybe that’s just me.)

I would have liked to see more events unfold from Willa’s point of view. She had both a ruthless and childish take on things, which fitted her 12-year-old self, balancing between carefree childhood and wanting the grown-ups to see her as an equal, someone they’d confide into. As they obviously wouldn’t, she tried to discover things by herself—and got more than her money’s worth in that regard. I didn’t really like how she reacted in the end, as it made her part of the narrative less involved.

Conclusion: Interesting background (Macedonia, the WPA, the strike), but not so interesting for me when it came to the characters, who were a little too predictable and also annoying. 2.5 stars.

Yzabel / June 23, 2015

Review: Grunge Gods and Graveyards

Grunge Gods and Graveyards by Kimberly G. Giarratano

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

Parted by death. Tethered by love.

Lainey Bloom’s high school senior year is a complete disaster. The popular clique, led by mean girl Wynter Woods, bullies her constantly. The principal threatens not to let her graduate with the class of 1997 unless she completes a major research project. And everyone blames her for the death of Wynter’s boyfriend, Danny Obregon.

Danny, a gorgeous musician, stole Lainey’s heart when he stole a kiss at a concert. But a week later, he was run down on a dangerous stretch of road. When he dies in her arms, she fears she’ll never know if he really would have broken up with Wynter to be with her.

Then his ghost shows up, begging her to solve his murder. Horrified by the dismal fate that awaits him if he never crosses over, Lainey seeks the dark truth amidst small town secrets, family strife, and divided loyalties. But every step she takes toward discovering what really happened the night Danny died pulls her further away from the beautiful boy she can never touch again.

Review:

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

The title is a bit misleading, as there are indeed ghosts and graveyards, but don’t expect literal gods to appear, and take those (as well their songs, linked to each chapter) for what they are: a tribute of an era gone by, as short as it was intense. I think this is the kind of story whose appeal will definitely vary *a lot* depending on the people: if you were a teenager in the 90s, it will resonate a lot differently than if you were born earlier or later, and didn’t approach that period the same way that we did, or didn’t live through it at all. (And I say “we” because the characters in this book, should they be alive in our world right now, would be a couple of years younger than I, not more. I will confess to being highly biased, due to my own memories of those years and the bands I used to listen to as well.)

In other words, amidst the teenage angst and drama, lies nostalgia, which fits very well with how Lainey will never get back what she had with Danny—just like the Lady in Blue will never get what other younger women had, stuck in time, doomed to become more and more transparent, then vanish.

There’s romance, but not too much, and it doesn’t trample the actual plot: good.
There’s music and a lot of name-dropping, but I thought it was well-integrated enough, and didn’t feel awkward: good.
The small town setting: stifling, difficult to hide anything for long, family secrets… Good.
Strong 90s vibes (no cell phones, bands and brands from that time…): check.
The law-related side of the story: I don’t know enough to US law to tell whether that part was true to actual laws or not. It seemed believable, so… good enough for me. Also, corrupt officials aren’t so often a theme in YA novels: nice change.

This novel had an intense side to it, sometimes too much, in that what happened to Lainey, the way she was treated, bordered on too unbelievable to be true. It’s hard to reconcile the idea of such a mean environment (not only the high school one) to what I knew when I was 17. We had cliques, and people who were more popular than others, but never did things stoop down to such a level. Maybe it does in some places, and I just happened to be in a normal enough high school? Maybe it’s the way schools are shown in novels and series, because otherwise it’d just be too boring to read about and watch. There were a few moments when all the angst and drama felt like too much to bear… yet it was precisely also what elicited my reactions, even though they kept going from notsalgic to annoyed, from glad to angry. Had this story left me indifferent, it would’ve been something else.

There were some stereotypes: the mean queen bee, rebellious teenagers, and Lainey came off as a little dull and too tempted to easily give up at times. However, she didn’t do it in the end, learnt to stick to her guns, went on when even the people closest to her seemed to have deserted her… and the clichés weren’t as annoying as they are in other stories, because several characters were actually deeper than they appeared at first, and had more to their personal stories than met the eye.

Conclusion: 3.5 to 4 stars. Not exactly the novel I expected, as there were less ghosts and a more complex plot anchored in very real matters. I think that was better, all in all: it avoided veering too much into paranormal romance-only territory, which wouldn’t have been as satifying for me.

Yzabel / June 21, 2015

Review: The Ugly Stepsister

The Ugly Stepsister by Aya Ling

My rating: [rating=5]

Blurb:

A Cinderella retelling with a twist.

When Kat accidentally rips apart an old childhood picturebook, she’s magically transported into the world of Cinderella–as Katriona, one of the ugly stepsisters! To get back, she’ll have to complete the story, right to the end of happily ever after. But the odds are huge: the other stepsister is movie-star gorgeous, the fairy godmother is nowhere to be found, and the prince isn’t interested in marrying any time soon. Can she ever return to the real world?

Review:

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

3.5/4 stars. At first, the opening chapter made me think “is this a joke?” Cliché high school with shy, clumsy, average-looking girl who’s actually probably beautiful enough, gorgeous new student in front of whom she ends up tripping, beautiful rival with a queen bee attitude…

But then, it became fairly obvious that this was completely in jest, a wink to the usual stereotypical introductions of the kind, and it set the tone for the rest of the story. Sure, Kat/Katriona remained “clumsy”, due to having to suddenly walk around in long dresses and shoes she wasn’t used to, not to mention curtsying and waltzing… However, that was normal in the circumstances.

In general, I liked her character, first of all because she was a good person: acting for selfish motives (going back home), yet not ready to resort to the more drastic methods. When she realised that making Cinderella and the prince of Atheria fall in love may not be such a good idea, she felt guilty about it, and started questioning the whole point: is a “happy ever after” worth it, if it means forcing two people into a mold? She was presented with difficult choices to make, and had to find the strength to quash her own feelings in the process.

The author played with a lot of tropes, sometimes coming close to leaning on the fourth wall. The elements of Cinderella’s story were often subverted: Elle = Cinderella, but how could she be the neglected sister, when she already had a family in town? The prince who appeared as an aloof, brooding guy had his own goals and didn’t want to be seen exactly as a pretty wallflowers… much like Kat didn’t want to be told “go home and be a lady instead of using your brains.” Kat even went as far as to remark that she wasn’t a “special snowflake”: the prince and other people noticed her and found her remarkable only because she had been bringing contemporary values into a Victorian-like society, values and ideas that were just normal to her—in her eyes, this didn’t make her special in any way. This was a nice change from all those “I’m different” girls in a lot of YA stories (if only because she *was* different… and wasn’t at the same time).

I also liked that the romance wasn’t of the insta-love variety. Kat remained focused on her mission, as well as on the “subplots” she developed on her own (humanitarian ones, such as reducing children labour time and bettering their work conditions, for want of being able to completely reform Atherian society). She was too busy working on those, on finding the truth about Elle and figuring out how to help her (the fairy godmother was nowhere in sight at all, after all), that there wouldn’t have been time for her to gush and swoon over a prince, and that was definitely believable.

The goblins were funny, with their constant betting on the outcome of Kat’s efforts. I wish we had nown more about them and about the enchanted books.

The writing style sometimes grated on my nerves, as its “childish” flavour clashed with the more adult themes (child labour, servants being treated like dirt…). There were also a few parts where the story jumped from one place to the other, making me think “wait, when did Kat go back home?” I’m not sure if this was a problem of editing, though, or of formatting.

Conclusion: Thoroughly enjoyable, if somewhat predictable when it came to a few events. But fairy tales are predictable anyway, and for a retelling, this one managed to veer off the usual Cinderella story enough to be a very satisfying one.

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.