Chris Pickens

Science Fiction & Fantasy

Sci-Fi & Fantasy: May 2021

Feature by Chris Pickens

A surprisingly funny horror novel and two thrilling adventures among the stars are ready to sweep you away in this month’s sci-fi & fantasy column.

★ Project Hail Mary 

No author is better than Andy Weir at taking a concept that could be boring on paper (molecular biology) and turning it into a hilarious, thrilling, engrossing piece of accessible hard sci-fi. Thankfully, Project Hail Mary is another intense space puzzle for science nerds and mainstream thrill-seekers alike. Ryland Grace wakes up on a small spaceship with amnesia, unsure of why he’s there, what he’s meant to do or even what his name is. He begins to recall a mission sparked by alien life near the sun, a mission that may have had existential importance for the human race. Ryland must survive long enough to find a way to save the world using only his mind and the resources aboard the spaceship. Weir’s inquisitive and hilarious, optimistic yet deadpan voice carries this book from the very first page. Ryland is the perfect vessel for a cosmic mystery that plays out with the same joyous attention to detail—and poignant philosophical questions about the nature of self-discovery and human ingenuity—found in Weir’s beloved debut, The Martian. It’s just so gosh-darn hopeful; one can’t help but smile the whole way through.

The Whispering Dead

Need a horror tale sure to raise a few goosebumps? Darcy Coates will have you gripping the covers with the immediately entertaining The Whispering Dead. Keira awakens in a dreary forest without her memory, hunted by unknown men and desperate for answers. After taking refuge in a house near a cemetery, she discovers that she can hear the whispers of the dead coming from among the gravestones. Now she’s on a mission to find out who she is, why she’s being followed and how she can bring peace to the ghosts that haunt the town of Blighty. In one of the strongest starts to any book I’ve read this year, The Whispering Dead instantly pulls the reader into the horrors Keira encounters. That said, Coates also includes many lighter moments and hilarious quips, so there’s plenty to enjoy here beyond the spooks and scares. Some questions about Keira’s past are left unanswered as this is the first book in a planned series, and I suspect anyone who reads it will be itching for the sequel. 

★ The Last Watch

J.S. Dewes’ The Last Watch is a high-energy thrill ride at the edge of space featuring a crew of miscreants racing against time aboard an ancient spaceship. A great concept with an even better execution, this is a sci-fi space opera for readers looking to dial up the excitement. The Argus, an ancient spacecraft parked at the rim of a vast, empty space anomaly known only as the Divide, serves as the last protection for humanity against the great unknown. The crew, made up of bottom-of-the-barrel military has-beens, would be content to serve out their time in relative peace. But when the Divide starts expanding, swallowing up the known galaxy, the crew of the Argus must find a way to stop it before the universe is completely engulfed. A strong, straightforward concept anchors a fun cast of characters that always seems to have a quip or a retort ready to go. I had a great time from cover to cover, and here’s some good news for anyone else who enjoys it: This is the first in a planned series, so get ready to return to the Divide in the near future. With its “Battlestar Galactica” meets “Game of Thrones” tone, The Last Watch is a delight.

A surprisingly funny horror novel and two thrilling adventures among the stars are ready to sweep you away in this month’s sci-fi & fantasy column.

Science Fiction & Fantasy

Sci-Fi & Fantasy: August 2021

Feature by Chris Pickens

These three tales are epic in every sense but never lose sight of the characters at their heart.

★ She Who Became the Sun

The best historical fantasies bring an all-new beauty and mystery to familiar things. Shelly Parker-Chan’s She Who Became the Sun spins a tale based on the founding of China’s Ming dynasty that reads like Mulan crossed with The Once and Future King. In a poverty-stricken village, a girl fights to stay alive. Her brother is supposedly destined for greatness, but she has never been more than an afterthought. After bandits raid her family’s house and she is the only one left alive, she makes a desperate choice. Cloaking herself in her late brother’s name, Zhu Chongba, she conceals her gender and joins a nearby monastery. While there, Zhu learns how to survive, even as the Mongol hordes march on China. Parker-Chan’s gorgeous writing accompanies a vibrantly rendered world full of imperfect, fascinating characters. With every turn of the page, the book offers a new set piece, a new revelation, a new horror. Readers who loved the equally excellent Poppy War trilogy by R.F. Kuang will be right at home here. If you’re a fan of epic fantasy, you can’t miss this one.

★ Shards of Earth

Adrian Tchaikovsky’s Shards of Earth is one of the most stunning space operas I’ve read this year. Fifty years ago, a man named Idris saved humanity from the Architects, enormous planet-size aliens capable of destroying anything in their path. Now, even as he navigates the galaxy’s backwaters on the junky salvage ship Vulture God, Idris can feel something in the depths of space. When he and his crew make a discovery that could upend the fragile peace among scattered human factions, they must choose who to trust before the Architects return to finish what they started. Tchaikovsky’s world building is on glorious display as he throws all manner of spaceships, creepy aliens and strange technology into a delicious sci-fi soup. It’s dense, it’s funny, it’s exciting, it’s touching and it’s perfect for someone looking for a space opera built on a grand scale.

The Godstone

I like to think I have my own preferences nailed down, and then a totally original book like Violette Malan’s The Godstone comes along and thoroughly delights and surprises me. Fenra Lowens is a Practitioner of magic who serves as healer for the residents of a small rural village. When Fenra’s longtime patient Arlyn Albainil receives a summons to the City to receive the valuable contents of a long-lost relative’s vault, Fenra volunteers to accompany Arlyn on his journey. But Arlyn is more than he seems, and he knows more than he tells. Inside the vault is an object of immense power, and he’s the only one who knows how to stop it from destroying the world. There’s a confident briskness to Malan’s pacing; nothing seems to drag over The Godstone’s 300 or so pages. The momentum is only aided by the superb dialogue throughout. Fenra and Arlyn’s banter is so pleasant, so assured, that it at times reads like classic English literature. Readers would be wise to pick up this exciting start to a new fantasy series.

These three tales are epic in every sense but never lose sight of the characters at their heart.

Science Fiction & FantasyHorror

Slewfoot

Review by Chris Pickens

In 1666, puritanical Christianity found a foothold in the New World. Known for the rejection of nearly everything as being sinful, life in a Puritan community could be pretty tough, especially for women. But Christianity wasn’t the first religion in America, not by a long shot.

Abitha, a young Englishwoman, marries into the Puritan society of Sutton, Connecticut, and finds herself relegated to the fringes of the community, an outsider due to her sharp tongue and headstrong manner. She also brought small charms and potions with her from England, remedies from her mother that would be considered witchcraft in Puritan circles. When her husband is killed in the woods behind her house, Abitha must decide how to live as a widow in a community that seems to be waiting for her to fail.

If only that were all she had to worry about. Deep in the dark of the forest, something ancient, primal and hungry has awoken. Can Abitha survive alone when old Slewfoot comes to her door?

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: The year's best Halloween reads, ranked from slightly spooky to totally terrifying.

Slewfoot is creepy, crawly, bloody fun. There are some downright spine-tingling moments that are sure to stick with you long after the last page. From shadows in cornfields, to pits filled with bones, to entrails scattered across deserted roads, author and illustrator Brom wastes no opportunity to turn up the spook factor, whether in prose or in the deliciously creepy paintings that illustrate his tale. However, what’s especially commendable about this horror aesthetic is the wayt the reader’s reaction to it changes over time. As the story progresses, these passages don’t simply shock; they reveal more and more about the universe of the story. Without giving too much away, by the end of the book, you’ll be rooting for blood.

Indeed, Slewfoot’s most compelling theme is its fascination with change. We see it most with Abitha, who is an incredible character. As she grieves, finds confidence in herself and gets drawn into the ancient power of the spirits of the forest, the reader empathizes with that transformation. There’s also a continuing meditation on good and evil, dark and light, life and death. Do monsters think of themselves as monsters? Are there elements of dark and light in all of us?

If you’re looking for a witchy, thrilling ride that also has a philosophical soul, grab a copy of Slewfoot—and don’t put it down until you’ve finished it.

In 1666, puritanical Christianity found a foothold in the New World. But Christianity wasn’t the first religion in America, not by a long shot.

Science Fiction & FantasyScience Fiction

The Exiled Fleet

Review by Chris Pickens

So you’ve successfully saved a fleet of soldiers from an intergalactic peril while simultaneously becoming the reluctant commander of a budding resistance movement. Now what? That's the dilemma facing Adequin Rake, captain of the spacecraft Argus. Unluckily for her—but luckily for readers—the excitement doesn’t ebb for even a moment in The Exiled Fleet.

As J.S. Dewe’s rousing follow-up to The Last Watch opens, Rake and her patchwork crew have survived the expanding calamity known as the Divide only to enter a new predicament. Without a warp core to travel to a safe part of the solar system, they’re dead in the water, and food and patience among the corps is growing scarce. Rake must rely on her team of trusted crewmembers to figure out how to retrofit the Argus and jump to safety. Along the way, they’ll encounter ancient civilizations, criminal enterprises and more than a few mechanical difficulties, all while trying to evade the evil Mercer Empire. Strap in—it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

But the bumpy ride is why we’re all here, right? One of the best parts about The Last Watch was how a cobbled-together, rag-tag assemblage of characters and technology still eked out a victory. I’m happy to report that the same white-knuckle, skin-of-their-teeth excitement is here from the very first page. So, too, are many of the characters that made the first installment great, as well as some welcome new arrivals.

Since The Exiled Fleet wastes very little time getting back into the action, it’s definitely recommended that readers tackle the first book before turning to this one. It’ll be completely worth it, because Fleet does a superlative job of expanding on everything that was interesting in Dewes’ debut—and this book is even more engaging and often, more personal. As Rake and her crew search for solutions, Dewes explores more of her complex universe and reveals more about the characters’ pasts. One character in particular has to come face-to-face with some ugly truths about his own family in a tense, painful, scary and oh-so-satisfying scene. Dewes has an aptitude both for excellent naval-inspired action sequences as well as for quieter interludes between characters. The amount of time she gives her characters to simply speak to one another makes the bonds they forge that much more believable.

In my review of The Last Watch, I mentioned that everyone should get ready to go back to the Divide in the next installment. But in The Exiled Fleet, Dewes goes far beyond the Divide to points of space as of yet unseen. Here’s hoping the next book in this excellent series keeps propelling us even further into the stars.

So you’ve successfully saved a fleet of soldiers from an intergalactic peril while simultaneously becoming the reluctant commander of a budding resistance movement. Now what?

Science Fiction & FantasyFantasy

The Jasmine Throne

Review by Chris Pickens

Has there ever been a better time to be both a reader of fantasy and a lover of history? With greater and greater frequency, real history is inspiring new yet familiar fantasy worlds. The best authors of such fantasies faithfully harness the richness of the past and make it their own, and in The Jasmine Throne, author Tasha Suri does just that.

Inspired by the lush and shimmering epics of India, The Jasmine Throne is the story of two women: Princess Malini, the sister to an emperor who has been imprisoned for heresy, and Priya, a maidservant with a hidden past. Malini and Priya would never have met if it weren't for the Hirana. The massive temple-turned-prison is, for Malini, a structure of ancient, magical power. Even as Priya ascends its steps to wait on Malini for the first time, she can feel the Hirana’s magic calling to her. After Priya defends the princess from an assassin and reveals to Malini Priya's own magical abilities, the two women find their lives intertwined. Together, they’ll either overthrow Malini’s zealot brother and save Priya’s family, or die trying.

I couldn’t help but think of R.F. Kuang’s The Poppy War while reading Suri’s work. I immediately sank into The Jasmine Throne just as I did with Kuang’s dark military fantasy inspired by 20th-century China. Both authors use real places as the foundations for their fictional worlds, which grants the reader a rich sense of place from the first page. The Jasmine Throne is sumptuous and heady, mystical and intricate, with Suri’s natural, precise prose deftly shifting as she alternates among multiple charcters' perspectives.

But Malini and Priya's connection is what will have fans raving about this book. Their relationship evolves slowly and carefully, and one never gets the sense that the rest of the story is being artificially slowed down or altered in order for them to interact. A recurring theme of the narrative is fire, both cleansing and destructive, and without spoiling anything, that theme is embodied perfectly by these two characters. There are some moments between them that are absolutely electric on the page.

Both protagonists have to make some tough choices as the story unfolds, and neither one’s hands are clean by the end. Their moments of righteous vengeance will satisfy fans of other great writers of political intrigue, such as George R.R. Martin and Pierce Brown, but Suri maintains her hold on the reader’s affections even as Malini and Priya find themselves morally compromised in their journey.

The Jasmine Throne more than lives up to the hype with its rich and expansive world, compelling characters, cool magic system and Suri’s excellent writing, which holds it all together. But wait, there’s more good news! This book is the first of a trilogy, so if you’re already hooked, there’s more of Priya and Malini coming soon. I can’t wait to see where they take each other next.

The Jasmine Throne more than lives up to the hype with its rich and expansive world, compelling characters, cool magic system and Suri’s excellent writing, which holds it all together.
Science Fiction & FantasyShort StoriesScience Fiction

I’m Waiting for You

Review by Chris Pickens

A character awakens after dying in “That One Life,” one of the four stories in South Korean author Kim Bo-Young’s expansive, captivating collection, I’m Waiting for You. In the afterlife, he’s greeted by a god who tells him, “Every life changes the whole universe. Whether or not that life is yours.” Where does humanity end and the universe begin? What are the limits of love and hope? What is the difference between creation and destruction? These are big questions, but Bo-Young’s attempt to bring shape to them in these stories is stunning, humbling and utterly beautiful.

I’m Waiting for You’s four stories form two pairs with interwoven thematic elements. In the titular story and in “On My Way,” an engaged couple, one on Earth and one on Alpha Centauri, exchange letters about their plans to meet to get married. (Each story contains one person’s letters.) Due to the problems posed by the theory of relativity and by light-speed travel, they must carefully coordinate their departures so they can arrive together at their destination at the same time, yet each lover encounters increasingly difficult complications to their original plan. Weeks, then months, then years are added to the journey’s overall time. Can the lovers hold out hope of finally being in the same place, at the same time?

In “The Prophet of Corruption” and “That One Life,” godlike beings, the progenitors of human existence, contemplate their impact on Earth and everything in it. From the smallest rock to the largest ocean, all of creation is an extension of them. When a young god created by Naban questions whether controlling the human world is right, Naban wonders if he and his fellow divine beings have had it backward all along. What if they exist because humanity exists, rather than the other way around?

The collection’s translators, Sophie Bowman and Sung Ryu, should be commended on shepherding these stories so gracefully into English. They introduce complex and ambitious ideas about space travel, philosophical and metaphysical riddles playing out in worlds inhabited by gods . . . you get the idea. But even when it’s challenging, Bo-Young’s prose is always oh-so-gorgeous.

This is some of the most beautiful science fiction writing that I’ve read recently. Not every element between the pairs of stories is analogous, but sometimes, just there, right under the surface, Bo-Young has hidden common threads. The bookended stories of lovers traveling through space in time and the feelings of longing and trust in the face of astronomically impossible circumstances are particularly lovely. Even in the huge expanse of space, the second-person voices in their letters are intimate and genuine, and the emotional power of each story’s closing moments is hefty. Grab your tissues, because you may be thoroughly moved.

I’m Waiting for You isn’t just a statement of action. It’s a promise: I’m waiting on your behalf, to be with you, to experience the universe’s purpose for me through you. If only we can live up to such a promise.

A character awakens after dying in “That One Life,” one of the four stories in South Korean author Kim Bo-Young’s expansive, captivating collection, I’m Waiting for You
Science Fiction & FantasyFantasy

The Bone Maker

Review by Chris Pickens

Twenty-five years ago, in the land of Vos, a group of mighty warriors fought and defeated a great evil. Celebrated and rewarded for their bravery, the group became legends in their own lifetimes and retired in a time of newfound peace. In Sarah Beth Durst’s The Bone Maker, it’s the demons we battle after triumphing over our greatest hardships that are the most challenging to defeat. How much pain and how many sacrifices does it cost to win? And could you summon that courage again, if you were called upon?

Kreya of Vos lost her husband, Jentt, when he sacrificed himself to save the world from the renegade bone maker Elkor. But Kreya is a bone maker too, able to use animal bones to animate inanimate objects with sentience and locomotion. Consumed by grief and hidden away deep in the forest with Jentt’s corpse, she pores over forbidden rituals that temporarily bring Jentt back to life. When she risks everything to harvest the bones of soldiers defeated at the final battle with Elkor, she discovers that the world may not be safe after all—the ancient evil Kreya and Jentt thought they defeated 25 years ago may have returned.

Readers will be hooked by an early scene that depicts one of Jentt’s many returns from death. Kreya awakens him, but she knows her spell is only strong enough to keep him alive for a day. It’s incredibly sad and instantly relatable. Regret is a significant theme for all of the book’s characters, and Kreya’s longing is a pitch-perfect way to introduce it. Other characters have regrets as well, but a wife who wants her husband back hits especially hard. Durst displays a mastery of emotional resonance throughout the book, bringing each character’s scars to the surface even in moments of levity. You never really forget the toll the past has taken on each person.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Sarah Beth Durst on her love of backstories, the importance of humor and the inspiration for bone magic.

The Bone Maker follows story beats common to many fantasy novels. The second act has a certain “getting the gang back together” spirit to it, returning a group of semibroken people to one another’s company. Two things keep the story feeling fresh while Durst sets her chess pieces upon the board. The first is dialogue; The Bone Maker features lovely banter between people who know each other well, and they alternate insults, jokes and witty comebacks with raw conversations about pain and regret. Some of the best moments involve characters simply talking to one another and reflecting on feelings they have held inside.

The second element that sets The Bone Maker apart is its magic system. Each kind of bone magic is distinct, simple to understand and integral to the story. Durst constantly reveals new and creative ways to use the slightly creepy shamanistic act of carving symbols in bones in order to solve problems—to read the future, for example, or to endow someone with superhuman strength. While some of the central rules are set up early and repeated, the reader always feels that a new way to use magic is right around the corner.

When I read Durst’s Race the Sands last year, I loved the way she zeroed in on her characters as they searched for ways to reconcile with pain and loss. That same empathy is present in The Bone Maker, refracted across a new group of fantastic characters. There’s power in these bones.

Twenty-five years ago, in the land of Vos, a group of mighty warriors fought and defeated a great evil. But their quest isn't over.

Science Fiction & FantasyFantasy

The Burning God

Review by Chris Pickens

Few heroines have come as far as Runin Fang. She's literally crossed the entire continent of Nikan, destroyed an island, channeled the divine power of the Phoenix, killed the enemy in nearly every way imaginable, been betrayed by someone she loves, gone into hiding and come back out again. It's been a wild ride full of anger, triumph, humor and sheer willpower. In The Burning God, the third and final entry in the Poppy War trilogy, R.F. Kuang finds new ways to bring life, horror and excitement to this saga about a nation torn apart by war.

Left to die by the Dragon Warlord, Rin and Kitay find themselves back in the South, at the head of the Southern Coalition. This liberation force, created to rid the territory of Mugenese soldiers and to challenge the Dragon Republic, is poised to take back Rin's homeland. But with their Hesperian allies at their backs, the Dragon Warlord and his son Nezha are nearly unassailable. When an old enemy is revealed and a path to victory becomes clear, Rin must decide whether to trust her allies and unite behind a common foe or do the unthinkable: Build an army of shamans and take back the continent.

Though The Burning God treads new ground in many ways, Kuang constantly references people, places and things from the previous books. Of course, this is really helpful for readers who haven't been back to Nikan in some time, but it also creates a sense of history. All of the things Rin has done and all the people who have built her feel ever-present in her mind as she makes decisions both small and large. It also feels nostalgic, wistful even. You can tell that Kuang is deeply in love with her story, and it shows: The Burning God is the best-written book of the trilogy.

It's also the most thrilling, both because the twists, the turns, the intrigue and the magic are dialed up to 11 and because of Kuang's masterful sense of momentum. We've been waiting for Rin to lead troops in battle and conquer her many enemies, and Kuang's narrative delivers. I've heard it said that writers should write about what they enjoy. It's clear that Kuang delights in political and military strategy, in moving and cataloguing the many players on the board. As in the previous two entries in the trilogy, these passages have a sharpness that few other books can match.

Then there's Rin herself. Those of us who have read every book in the trilogy will reflect on the bloodshed and the carnage that leads Rin to this point. There's a moment where she wakes up after having slept well for the first time in a long time and looks in the mirror, contemplating who she is and who she wants to be. It's a poignant and strangely peaceful moment for a person whose story has been defined by war. It's also touching and sad when paired with an ending that will leave you dazed.

This place and this protagonist are singular in fantasy literature, and I hope we'll get to return to Nikan someday. Better yet, I hope we get to return to the future Nikan that this book promises. I'm sure the Phoenix will be waiting, ready to set the world on fire.

Few heroines have come as far as Runin Fang. She's literally crossed the entire continent of Nikan, destroyed an island, channeled the divine power of the Phoenix, killed the enemy in nearly every way imaginable, been betrayed by someone she loves, gone into hiding and…

Science Fiction & FantasyFantasy

Shadows of the Short Days

Review by Chris Pickens

Being in a relationship is tough, even without the intrusion of powerful magics and summoned demons. Giving all that you have for another person, even one hellbent on magical experimentation, takes a lot of effort. And when it's over, you just hope you can keep going despite the scars. In the magical alternate universe of Alexander Dan Vilhjálmsson's Shadows of the Short Days, it's the scars of the past that matter most.

In Hrimland, the wild energies of the beyond are closer to the surface than other places. Here, sorcery is commonplace, demons can be brought forth through incantations and all manner of magical creatures interact with humans. Garún and Sæmundur, a woman and man attuned to this magical energy who are former lovers, try to find their way in Dan Vilhjálmsson's alternate vision of Reykjavík. When Garún finds herself in the center of a revolution to make Hrimland independent, she commits to fighting for freedom. But Sæmundur, consumed by a desire to delve more deeply into demonic conjuring than anyone ever has, may be too far down a path to darkness to be saved.

Balance is the heartbeat of this story. The yin and yang-esque relationship between two magical elements, seidur and galdur, plays a central role in the magic system, but it also serves as the backdrop for a plethora of counteracting forces. The Crown and the rebels, the modern and the ancient, human and nonhuman, and Garún and Sæmundur themselves add to a thematically contiguous world. As a result, Short Days feels orderly and orchestrated from the get-go.

The tone of each of the two narrative voices also exhibits this balance. Garún and Sæmundur read very differently in the close-third perspective Dan Vilhjálmsson employs for both characters. Where Garún frequently lets her righteous anger steer both her voice and her actions, Sæmundur's brooding obsession is the polar opposite. His meddling with sometimes horrific magic feels feverish and reckless, which is perfect because we know Garún feels exactly that way about him much of the time.

This sense of symmetry is balanced by how otherwise layered and lived-in this world feels. One of my favorite parts of sci-fi cinema is seeing the grunge of a cantina or the dirty streets of a futuristic town. Every corner of this vision of Reykjavik has a different magical creature, a different alchemical concoction, a new piece of lore to be uncovered. Hrimlandic, which reads like a combination of Old Norse and Gaelic, fills nearly every page of the book, adding to the sense of abundant discovery. Dan Vilhjálmsson includes a rich glossary filled with Hrimlandic terminology, as well as a compendium of magical creatures and a "Citizen's Primer" full of advice for pronouncing some of the wonderfully complicated words throughout.

Dan Vilhjálmsson had me considering a concept I had not anticipated before starting this book: the personal price of revolution. The pain inflicted on those seeking change and the pain simply incurred by the effort of protest and agitation are central components of Garún and Sæmundur's experience. It seems a fitting meditation for today's world, when the seeking of change is both desperate and, yes, painful. If Shadows of the Short Days is any guide, it's the pain that makes the struggle worth fighting for.

Being in a relationship is tough, even without the intrusion of powerful magics and summoned demons. Giving all that you have for another person, even one hellbent on magical experimentation, takes a lot of effort. And when it's over, you just hope you can keep…

Science Fiction & FantasyScience Fiction

The Worst of All Possible Worlds

Review by Chris Pickens

A ship’s crew is like a family. They fight together, succeed together, love together and, if things go wrong, die together. As with previous installments of Alex White’s Salvagers trilogy, the crew of the starship Capricious does a little bit of all of these. The stakes have never been higher than in this last entry, The Worst of All Possible Worlds. But one of the best parts about reading books in a series is that by the end, you feel like part of the family, too.

Having just delivered one of the galaxy’s worst war criminals to an execution chamber, Nilah, Boots and the rest of the crew should be feeling like they’re on cloud nine. But the threat of Henrick Witts and his impossibly powerful space station hangs heavily over all sectors of space. After witnessing Witt’s destructive power firsthand, they find themselves in a race against time: uncover the mysteries of a long-lost colony ship and an ancient form of magic that might be the only hope to save everyone and everything.

With all of the space battles, massive creatures, AI-controlled mech suits and military techno-jargon, it’s a wonder there’s even time for White’s characters to breathe. But Worlds is a high-water mark for emotional precision in the space opera subgenre. White injects so much heart into their characters, and the toll the mission takes on them feels immediate and challenging. We’re far beyond the getting-to-know-you phase, and White takes full advantage.

That said, this book contains a flood of incredible moments. It’s hard to go 20 pages without finding a brilliant action set piece, and the driving pace is such that you never have a chance to guess what’s going to happen next. This gleeful intensity was a hallmark of the previous books, and it’s certainly alive and well in the finale. Balancing the action is White’s ever-present humor. A particular highlight is an AI hilariously named “The Devil” that drives a newly acquired war machine—just another tool in the arsenal for a crew that needs all the help it can get.

The crew’s goal—to find out more about Origin, the original human home world and the source of all magic in the galaxy—feels perfectly suited for the conclusion of the series. There’s poetic strength in finding where things began in order to get to the end, and it feels like the only treasure worthy of our treasure-hungry crew. As in the other books, there are nods to classic sci-fi and adventure, from James VanderMeer’s Annihilation to Isaac Asimov’s work to Indiana Jones. But it never feels like fan service. White’s creation is fully their own.

To really get the full experience, I recommend starting with the first book in the series, A Big Ship at the Edge of the Universe. You’ll more fully appreciate the journey that these miscreants took to get here. But consider yourself lucky if you do have to start from page one; you’ll be on your way to experiencing one of the best sci-fi trilogies released in the last several years.

A ship’s crew is like a family. They fight together, succeed together, love together and, if things go wrong, die together. As with previous installments of Alex White’s Salvagers trilogy, the crew of the starship Capricious does a little bit of all of these.
Mystery & SuspenseSuspense

Worse Angels

Review by Chris Pickens

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. An ex-Mafia bruiser-turned-private-detective is hired by a senator’s bodyguard to investigate the apparent suicide of his nephew. Along the way, the PI encounters a backwater town full of hillbillies, a blood-worshiping cult and a particle collider housed deep underground in a mysterious research facility. Not ringing any bells? Good! Then all of the twists and turns in Laird Barron’s intricate and deftly written Worse Angels will be as surprising to you as they were to me.

Isaiah Coleridge has taken his licks over the years. A former member of the mob known more for hurting people than helping them, Coleridge is haunted both mentally and physically by his violent past. Now he’s a private detective, working to build a more normal life for his family. But that old saying, “Just when I thought I was out . . . ” always seems to come true for Mafia types. True to form, Coleridge’s reputation for his brains as well as his brawn lead him to take on a cold case investigation. The client: Badja Adeyemi, ex-major-domo to a powerful US senator. The job: Find out if the suicide of Sean Pruitt, Adeyemi’s nephew, was in fact a murder. When Isaiah discovers that something more wicked might be happening in the town of Horseheads in upstate New York, a twisty and exciting mystery unfolds.

For all the originality of the detail, the broad strokes might come across as familiar: A brilliant tough-guy with a checkered past investigates a death in a dreary town and starts to uncover some signs that suggest something way out of the norm. But Barron’s deft handling of mood and tension makes this feel fresh too. He takes us into and out of the action with an almost cinematic precision, giving us just enough to understand the stakes, while leaving enough mystery to keep us guessing. It should also be said that Barron’s command of language is stunning. Dialogue rattles off lightning-quick and the banter between Coleridge and his team is often hilarious. When we find ourselves inside of Coleridge’s mind, the tone shifts beautifully to reflect the psychedelic canvas of inner thought.

There’s impressive world building here as well. The details that Barron chooses to populate the story with at first feel disparate and random, but his vivid choices turn out to pay dividends as the story goes on. For example, Coleridge’s knowledge of ancient mythology bleeds over into the narrative and even starts to influence the reader’s perspective on the plot. Though certain details simply created clutter, overall the risks Barron took in the name of atmosphere and payoff feel worthwhile.

I’m most frequently conscripted to review the sci-fi and fantasy genres, where entire universes are invented on the page, and there’s something about Worse Angels that feels similar to my usual gig. Feeling like a character is strong enough to guide you through the unknown is as relevant here as it is in more fantastic settings. The great thing is that this is, in fact, Coleridge’s third outing, with more to come. I may have to take a detour from whatever book I’m reading when his next caper hits the shelves.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. An ex-Mafia bruiser-turned-private-detective is hired by a senator’s bodyguard to investigate the apparent suicide of his nephew. Along the way, the PI encounters a backwater town full of hillbillies, a blood-worshiping cult and a particle collider housed…

Science Fiction & FantasyFantasy

The Obsidian Tower

Review by Chris Pickens

Imagine this: You’re born into a powerful magical family, part of a storied lineage of mage-rulers. Everyone around you can control life itself. Giant trees grow when they are told to grow, animals rise to defend you and every living thing in your realm is connected, sensed innately no matter where they are. Then imagine that a childhood illness leaves you different, unable to control this life magic. In fact, it leaves you with something worse: a magic that, when you touch something alive, kills it. What kind of person could overcome such loneliness? A new heroine named Ryxander, who stands at the center of Melissa Caruso’s mysterious and wonderful The Obsidian Tower.

In the kingdom of Morgrain, there is a castle. In that castle is a great black tower. And inside the tower, behind innumerable and impenetrable enchantments is a door that should never be opened. As children, the mages of Morgrain recite a poem thousands of years old, a warning that ends with the line “Nothing must unseal the door.” No one knows what is contained in the tower, and Ryxander is the Warden charged with keeping it safe. When a visiting mage ventures too close to the magic of the tower, Ryx finds herself at the center of an international crisis and the only one who knows what’s beyond the door. To avert disaster, she must use all of her wits and talent to keep Morgrain, and the world, safe from unspeakable ruin.

Even from the very first page, I was hooked for one reason: the initial premise here is simple, full of tension and immediately engaging. Even as the central goal of not opening the door plays out, Caruso builds a vivid universe around it, filling the pages with personality and depth. Like a good mystery, Tower slowly feeds the reader with more and more clues, never fully revealing everything at once. Caruso builds and releases tension deftly on both large and small scales. Even short conversations Ryx has with scheming foreign nobles expand and contract as political and personal issues are explored.

Ryx, of course, serves as the host for these explorations. This book has moments of real pain and longing that have nothing to do with magic or towers. Not being able to have physical contact with anyone has changed her, and the choices she has to make to subvert or embrace this fact are beautiful and terrible. It is, therefore, instantly believable that she is made of stronger stuff, making her eventual confrontations with some very nasty magic all the more satisfying.

At the time of this writing, I’m restricted to my house as a global sickness isolates nearly everyone from each other. I can’t help but think that, on a smaller scale, Ryx’s isolation is something many readers can imagine first hand.

Imagine this: You’re born into a powerful magical family, part of a storied lineage of mage-rulers. Everyone around you can control life itself. Giant trees grow when they are told to grow, animals rise to defend you and every living thing in your realm is…

Science Fiction & FantasyFantasy

The City We Became

Review by Chris Pickens

What makes a city feel the way it does? Is it the art and the music? The people and how they view themselves? What about the infinite, minuscule details of the place, whether they are recognized or ignored completely? Three-time Hugo Award winner N.K. Jemisin shows us her version of the answers, and they add up to something bigger than the sum of its parts. In The City We Became, a magical novel of breadth and precision, Jemisin builds a version of New York City that is more than the borders of its boroughs. This New York is alive.

Cities, we learn, are like any other living organism. They are born, they develop, they get sick, they can die. Like a hive communicating through a shared consciousness, a city is sustained by everyone and everything in it. At a certain stage of life, cities awaken avatars, people who are attuned to this consciousness, able to understand it and, from time to time, channel its power.

Cities also have enemies. When a primordial evil arrives through space and time, hellbent on corrupting and destroying New York, the avatars of all five boroughs awaken to do battle—and fight off what could be the death of the city.

I’ve not read another book like this in years. Jemisin takes a concept that can be abstracted to the simplest of questions (What if cities were alive?) and wraps an adventure around it. That adventure takes center stage in the many scenes that read more like a superhero movie than a fantasy novel, such as when a towering Lovecraftian tentacle bursts from the river to destroy the Williamsburg Bridge. However, Jemisin’s most beautiful passages deliver attentive descriptions of New York’s melting pot of people. Her characters’ life experiences—racial, sexual, financial—bring perspectives that are deeply important to and often missing from contemporary literature, particularly in the fantasy genre.

Jemisin lives in Brooklyn, and it’s clear that New York has impacted her life in innumerable ways. I confess, I don’t know New York well myself, but reading this book left me thinking about my own city, how I’m connected to it and how far I would go to save it. To what parts of the whole have I contributed? If it were alive, what would it say?

In The City We Became, a magical novel of breadth and precision, N.K. Jemisin builds a version of New York City that is more than the borders of its boroughs.

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