It’s fair to say that A Dance With Dragons, the fifth book in George R.R. Martin’s acclaimed Song of Ice and Fire series, is the most-anticipated fantasy release since—well—the fourth book in the series, A Feast for Crows (2005). The anticipation is well-earned. The first three books in the series were an exhilarating, gritty combination of quasi-historical fiction and high epic fantasy. The brisk publication pace—A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings and A Storm of Swords were released in two-year increments—kept the burgeoning population of fans fed even as the books themselves challenged the conventional hero/villain dichotomy of traditional fantasy.

I mention publication pace—usually irrelevant to a review of anything but web comics—because after the 2000 publication of A Storm of Swords, it would be five years before the release of A Feast For Crows. The delay was cause for much teeth gnashing amongst an already fervid fan base, but even that only served as proof of the degree to which Martin had succeeded in creating a powerful work of epic fantasy. Then came the afterword of Feast, in which Martin admits a lapse of discipline and editing, announcing that Feast was half of the awaited book, and the second half—A Dance With Dragons—would “be along next year (I devoutly hope).” It turns out that “I devoutly hope” is Martin-ese for “give or take five years.”

Now, six years later, A Dance With Dragons has arrived. Not surprisingly, it shares many of the strengths and weaknesses of its “first half.” There is the engaging character building one expects from Martin—seldom has an author given his readers so many characters to care about (before, of course, maiming and/or killing them). There are the complex lineage-a-thons not seen since that book in the Bible with all the “begats.” There are the in-depth descriptions of castles, demesnes, harbors, passages and the people who occupy them. (I long to read the chapter on scenic Harrenhal in the next edition of Rick Steves’ Westeros.) Tongue-in-cheek comments aside, Dance is further proof that Martin is a world builder of the first order.

And A Dance With Dragons has one immediate advantage over its first installment. Whereas A Feast for Crows had an almost maddening focus on characters who were less central to the story (and in the hearts of readers), Dance returns us to the “big three”—Jon Snow, Tyrion Lannister and Daenerys Targaryen. For the most part, it’s so very, very satisfying. Tyrion could spend the entire book talking about food allergies (My Dinner with Tyrion?), and it’d be amusing. Jon Snow’s battle to man the Wall and navigate the treacherous waters of leadership—while not as quippy—keeps the pages turning. Daenerys’s chapters are a bit more frustrating, as her march to reclaim the throne has turned into more of a squat and fret.

The Queen’s relative inactivity reflects a slackening of pace characteristic of both Feast and Dance. Though there are many developments in A Dance With Dragons—plenty of things happen—there’s also a paucity of events. The first three books present a number of large-scale set pieces—the Battle for King’s Landing, the defense of the Wall against Mance Rayder’s horde, the horrid events of the Red Wedding, the wondrous reveal of the dragons of Daenerys. Even the smaller events possess great heft, be they duel, beheading or de-handing. And though there’s no law saying every book needs a Helm’s Deep, Chain of Dogs or Triwizard Tournament, the 1,500-plus pages of exposition, positioning and skirmishes seem somehow uneventful compared to what has gone before (a certain dramatically placed crossbow bolt or two notwithstanding). All in all, events do not seem to be moving as apace as in the earlier books. In Feast, that’s defensible—it’s the aftermath of a major struggle, and the crows of the title require a certain lull during which they can settle down to feast. But in Dance, one expects a little more movement. In too many places, the dance is more akin to that guy standing against the wall moving his knee in time to the music.

All in all, A Dance With Dragons will do little to ease the minds of those readers who have worried that Martin’s grasp on the immensity that is A Song of Ice and Fire—or at least his ability to steer the narrative of the series—is slipping. For all the deserved praise garnered by Martin as a writer and his series as a captivating work of fantasy, Dance leaves the reader with plenty of questions about the health and trajectory of A Song of Ice and Fire. Can an author discard too many characters in whom readers have built a substantial investment? Is there a line where the thrill of the unpredictable becomes resentment at yet another investment squandered? (Would Tolkien’s epic have had the same impact if Gandalf had stayed dead, Frodo bought it early in The Two Towers and Aragorn died later in the same book?)

Given Martin’s penchant for dramatic reversals, it’s only appropriate I left A Dance With Dragons feeling still up in the air. Is that the Grand Canyon below? Is Martin is in the midst of completing a legendary leap, or are we going to crash into the cliff wall? Or is that just a shark we’re jumping over? And how long will I have to wait to find out? (I devoutly hope it’s not another six years.)

When I saw the title of John Scalzi’s new book, Fuzzy Nation, it triggered warm memories of reading H. Beam Piper’s original book, Little Fuzzy. Published in 1962, just two years before his suicide, Little Fuzzy was the first of three books penned by Piper regarding a band of cute, furry creatures on the planet Zarathustra, the subsequent effort to establish the sapience of the species (an act opposed by an intergalactic mining company with resources to exploit), and the fallout of that effort.

Initially, I assumed Scalzi’s book was a long-time-coming sequel to Piper’s original Fuzzy books. There had already been two: Fuzzy Bones (1981) by William Tuning and Golden Dream: A Fuzzy Odyssey (1982) by Ardath Mayhar. As it turns out, such a sequel has been published this year—it just wasn’t Scalzi’s book. Fuzzy Ergo Sum by Wolfgang Diehr was published this March and hailed as “the first new Fuzzy novel in almost 30 years.”

No, it turns out that Fuzzy Nation is not a sequel. It’s not a shared-world anthology, nor is it even a rogue piece of self-published fan fiction. Instead, Fuzzy Nation is a fully authorized reboot of the series.

The idea of the reboot—telling a story afresh, discarding the previously established continuity and canon—is well-established in film, television and comic books. (Not surprisingly, many examples of film reboots have comic books as their original source.) But though there are numerous reboots of film and TV franchises necessitated by aging actors, dated source material or special effects (Star Trek, James Bond, Battlestar Galactica ), or by less-than-stellar predecessors (The Hulk, Judge Dredd), the reboot is not a term associated with non-serial fiction.

It’s easy to imagine a “reboot wave” sweeping through literary genres as publishers and literary estates, especially those who treat their properties exclusively as assets to exploit rather than treasures to preserve, see a chance to reinvigorate income streams by pairing a hot author with an aging text.

Therefore, it was with apprehension and even a smidge of antagonism that I started Fuzzy Nation. After all, this book could be a harbinger for the impending despoilment of many a childhood (and adulthood) classic! Alas, my fears quickly gave way before a simpler realization: Fuzzy Nation is a very good read. From the opening pages where prospector Jack Holloway (or his dog, Carl, depending on who you ask) blows up a cliff and discovers a fortune, to his meeting with Papa Fuzzy and the other members of the fuzzy family, to the riveting courtroom battle that will determine their fates—Scalzi delivers a story that unfailingly entertains.

The plot skips along deftly, bringing the reader along every step of the way, and it easily qualified as a “blew-past-my-bedtime” read. (Apparently, that’s not unusual for a Scalzi book—I plan on knocking out his Old Man’s War as soon as I get my hands on a copy.)

In the end, Fuzzy Nation is what every good reboot should be—a sensitive re-imagining by a talented author inspired by the original material. And though there is still ample cause for apprehension about the potential impact of a reboot trend on genre fiction, even should the worse come to pass, John Scalzi’s novel will stand as an exception rather than the rule.

“The parrot lay on the floor of his cage, one claw thrust stiffly toward the tiny wooden swing suspended above him. The black olive clenched in his beak was the definitive sign that Pago was a corpse, for while he had fooled us all by playing dead in the past, he had never failed to consume an olive.”

In the space of the first two sentences of his new book, The Desert of Souls, Howard Andrew Jones has captured the reader. By the end of the first page—and in my case, the first paragraph—the crisp, evocative imagery has gripped one’s attention as tightly as the black olive in the beak of the recently departed Pago. Much to its author’s credit, that grip only tightens in the pages that follow.

The Desert of Souls has been described as Sherlock Holmes meets the Arabian Nights meets Robert E. Howard. The comparisons are apt, and in the case of Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous duo, overt. The martially adept Captain Asim partners with the erudite Dabir, a scholar whose principle weapons are his piercing intelligence and keen observations. (Like Doyle’s Watson, Asim serves as the story’s narrator and his friend’s biographer.) Fantastic adventure ensues. Though this is only the first book, the tandem of Asim and Dabir shows great promise to be worthy of the “great fictional duos” mantle worn by the likes of Lieber’s Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, Bilbo and Gandalf, and even Kirk and Spock.

The rich tapestry of 8th-century Baghdad recalls some of Scheherazade’s most engaging tales, and the supernatural horrors faced by Asim and Dabir during the course of their adventures could just as easily have menaced the likes of Conan, Solomon Kane or Bran Mak Morn. The engaging pulpiness of Jones’ book is not surprising, given the author is himself “an acknowledged expert on fiction writer Harold Lamb.” Lamb, a contemporary of Howard and horror godfather H.P. Lovecraft, penned tales of the Crusades and the Far East for Adventure, one of the most critically acclaimed magazines of the pulp era.

But though comparisons to the likes of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Robert E. Howard are merited due to plot and authorial provenance, there’s an even more fundamental similarity. At its heart, Jones’ work is a great read—a page-turner in its purest form. As such, The Desert of Souls is a powerful place—it can wreck sleeping schedules, cause chores to be neglected and, best of all, make one yearn for the next installment.

Upon reading Patricia A. McKillip's latest, The Bards of Bone Plain, one is struck by its symmetry. The tale is a neatly crafted puzzle—two narratives: one past, one present. As each narrative is told in alternating turn, it soon becomes clear that both the Big Question and the Big Answer are being unveiled simultaneously, if only the reader can make sense of it all.

In the present, the action centers primarily on Phelan Cle. A graduate student and exasperated son, Phelan strives to understand his distant and drunken father, Jonah, while searching for that Holy Grail of grad students everywhere, a  thesis topic.

Phelan's search for answers folds neatly into the second narrative, which centers upon the life of Nairn, an unschooled yet highly talented bard who lived centuries earlier. The relevance of Nairn's tale quickly intertwines with that of Phelan and Jonah, but even if the reader sees what is coming ahead of the big reveal (your average ppr—percipience per reader—may vary), no enjoyment is lost. By then, the hook is set, the alternating narratives have converged, and the reader has more pressing narrative concerns.

The book's structural neatness could easily prove forced or, worse, boring, in the hands of a lesser writer, but McKillip is an accomplished fantasist. She knows how much to relay, when to relay it, and when to move on to the next development. As a result, the economy of form and plotting—and indeed the entire world McKillip has constructed—itself mirrors a finely crafted riddle, answer included.

For readers who fancy themselves fans of bardic fiction, the title characters in The Bards of Bone Plain will be recognized as archetypal representations of the profession derived from the British Isles-rooted traditions of bard as poet, performer and chronicler. This should come as no surprise, as it is an archetype that McKillip herself helped solidify in the late 1970s with her influential Riddle Master Trilogy (The Riddle-Master of Hed, Heir to Sea and Fire and Harpist in the Wind). If modern depictions of elves and dwarves stem from J.R.R. Tolkien, vampires from Anne Rice and zombies from George Romero, then contemporary fantasy bards have authors like McKillip (and Charles DeLint) to thank for their current shape in the popular consciousness.

With The Bards of Bone Plain, McKillip shows she has few peers when it comes to this brand of bard-olatry.

Imagine a world filled with people with superpowers. With its rerelease of Wild Cards I, the first book in the shared-world anthology series edited by fantasy titan George R.R. Martin, Tor Books wants to make it a little easier for you to do just that. The anthology, first released in 1986, presents an alternate history where an alien virus unleashed in the immediate aftermath of World War II irrevocably changes the human condition. Granted, the result isn’t always—or even often—Superman. In fact, those who are infected (“draw a wild card”) are more likely to be horribly disfigured or killed (“draw a joker”) as to gain a useful ability (“draw an ace”).

To newcomers, the anthology’s “real world” take on the super-powered might seem a well-trodden path. After all, Alan Moore and Dave Gibbon’s acclaimed 1986 limited series comic Watchmen presented a similar, grittier version of how the traditional comic hero, that paragon of human virtue, might fare in a world where those less noble human traits—lust, ambition, greed, etc.—abound. Along with Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns,Watchmen was a seismic event in hero “theory,” forever altering the tone and tenor of superhero storytelling in ways that are the rule, not the exception, these days. But the Wild Cards series actually was introduced the same year as Watchmen andDark Knight. It’s less copycat than it is concurrent generation, and deserves a measure of respect as such.

Shared-world anthologies can sometimes be off-putting, or at the very least confusing, as disparate writing styles clash to the detriment of the larger world being built. Wild Cards I certainly has a diverse and skilled range of voices—from the late Roger Zelazny, one of the giants of fantasy and science fiction, to Nebula Award winners Edward Bryant, Howard Waldrop and Walter Jon Williams. But George R.R. Martin provides plenty of reader-centering ligature between the tales in the form of a prologue, interludes and an appendix, as well as in his editing and ordering of the stories. First-time readers will quickly gain their footing in this world of Aces, Jokers and “ nats” (slang for “ naturals” —those unaffected by the virus), even as different perspectives and time periods are presented. As for existing fans, the new edition includes three new stories (by Michael Cassutt, David D. Levine and Carrie Vaughn)—perhaps reason enough to purchase Wild Cards I a second time.

With HBO bringing Martin’s landmark fantasy series, A Song of Ice and Fire, to televisions everywhere starting in the spring of 2011, interest in Martin’s other projects should spike as viewers—many of them uninitiated in the genre—check out other works with his name attached. (Just ask Charlaine Harris what impact HBO’sTrue Blood—based on her Southern Vampire Mysteries series—had on interest in her body of work.)

Taken together, Wild Cards I isn’t necessarily greater than the sum of its parts, but it doesn’t need to be. If you enjoy Harry Turtledove-esque forays into alternate history, fantastic tales of super-powered protagonists or just like pulp fiction-fueled, bite-sized excursions away from the day-to-day, Wild Cards I has plenty to offer. 

Thomas Cale has known no end of hardship. By age 14 he has seen more abuse, domination and neglect than many people see their entire lives; he faces random beatings, food not fit for rats (in fact, rats are a rare delicacy) and an existence that never wanders outside the realm of brutal military training, physical discipline and social isolation. Cale is a Redeemer in training. A brutal sect of religious zealots devoted to the cause of spreading their faith through the systematic elimination of non-believers known simply as the Antagonists, the Redeemers begin training and indoctrination as early as the human body will tolerate it, usually around seven or eight years old. Cale and thousands of others like him are taken by, sold to, or traded to the Redeemers and kept in a stronghold called Shotover Sanctuary in the middle of a blight known as the Scablands, miles from any real civilization.

One night, while searching for food with two other boys—the closest things to friends Cale could be said to have—a frightening and confusing discovery changes the course of his life at the Sanctuary, leading to his eventual escape, along with his unlikely companions. Unbeknownst to the disparate group, Cale’s life holds significance greater than any of them could ever imagine, and his absence sparks a deadly conflict that threatens to embroil his newly discovered world in a devastating war that has been a millennium in the making.

In The Left Hand of God, Paul Hoffman spins a tale of intrigue and mystery that is balanced with just the right amount of action, drawing the reader deeper and deeper into the world he has created. Hoffman’s world is not entirely unfamiliar, with some historical references creating guideposts through which his reality can be navigated, but he generally eschews the familiar and encourages the reader to become ensconced in Cale’s unique but sometimes hauntingly familiar world. While the prose may be slightly lacking in subtlety at times, and perhaps better suited to the younger reader, the storytelling is second to none; and the story itself is certainly enough to hook anyone who appreciates tight plotting and well-scripted action. Hoffman’s tale is a decidedly new twist in a genre than can often be riddled with cliché, and the appreciative reader will be glad to know that this is only the beginning of a series of books yet to come. The only disappointment is that we will all have to wait with bated breath for the adventure to continue.

In her debut novel for adults, Nnedi Okorafor, the author of two well-received books for young adults, has drawn from both the rich spirituality of Africa and the recent, tragic history of places like Darfur, Rwanda and Congo to craft a modern fantasy that sometimes feels like the time-slipped record of a future myth. This harsh and often wonderful book tells the story of Onyesonwu, a child of rape in a corner of a future Africa where the remnants of advanced technology mingle with magic.

Onyesonwu is raised among her mother's people, the Okeke, who are suffering under an explosion of genocidal violence at the hands of the Nuru people who have kept the Okeke enslaved for centuries. Discovering that she is connected to the world of magic, she grows from child to woman, becoming an unlikely beacon of hope for her genocide-ravaged people, without ever quite managing to shake the outcast stain that comes from her violent origins. As Onyesonwu's abilities grow, along with the threat to her people, she gathers an unlikely group of companions on a quest to confront the darkness that threatens to wipe the Okeke from the pages of history. Filled with rage, there are times when Onyesonwu is more like a force of nature than a human being as she races towards her ultimate destiny.

Although beautifully written throughout, there are portions of this book that are incredibly hard to read, as Okorafor's unflinching prose scours the reader with the intimate details of the worst that humanity has to offer. Yet she also shows us moments of beauty and joy. The desolate grandeur of the desert is convincingly drawn, as are some fantastic magical set pieces.

Who Fears Death is an example of the increasingly global influences that inform modern science fiction and fantasy; these influences are refreshing the genres and giving them new strength and relevance. This is not half-hearted magical realism, but epic fantasy. By combining African myth with African reality, Nnedi Okorafor has created a unique and powerful tale.

Life is not turning out the way college student Brenda Morris expected. Instead of literature and history, she spends much of her time studying self-defense, learning magic and how to infuse mah-jong tiles with her life force, or ch’i, for magical purposes. With her mentor, former child star Pearl Bright, and a band of mortals and ghosts called the Thirteen Orphans, Brenda works to unravel a century-old curse. Insane warrior Thundering Heaven, Pearl’s long-dead father, is only one of the powerful, treacherous enemies the group must face.

Five Odd Honors, the third book in Jane Lindskold’s Breaking the Wall series rooted in Chinese culture and myth, folds backstory and character relationships—familial, romantic and antagonistic—into the ongoing action. This complex novel blends passion, jealousy between beings living and dead, and day-to-day reality with the mysticism of Chinese astrology. The appearance of several unusual, even grotesque members of the Celtic Sidhe—fairies—spices up the adventure.

In addition to Brenda and Pearl, key characters include Loyal Wind, a courageous warrior-ghost, and Flying Claw, an enigmatic, stunning young man with a remarkable personal history. Settings include California, Virginia and South Carolina, though much of the action occurs in non-ordinary locations rooted in Chinese and other indigenous traditions. Humans battle ghosts; ghosts, who can suffer permanent damage even after death, fight each other as well. Virulent attacks and torture also take place in dreams and in many all-too-physical circumstances.

Eventually, the group splits up. Some, like Brenda, apparently return to normal life. Scouts set off through the Lands of Smoke and Sacrifice to discover what has gone amiss there. As the explorers struggle with horribly manipulated landscapes of stone, water, fire, metal and wood, Pearl suffers a magical attack of uncertain origin. Soon Brenda must draw upon her still-incomplete training to aid her friends if they hope to survive to save this and all other worlds from evil and destruction.

Infused with the symbolism and resonance of Chinese astrology, Five Odd Honors offers readers a wide cast of characters and a multilayered drama rich in magic, treachery, raw courage and true friendship.

Leslie Moïse, Ph.D., lives, reads and writes in Louisville, Kentucky.

Dragons are creatures of archetypal beauty and ferocity that fill all who meet them with awe. Sintara, the blue dragon in Robin Hobb’s Dragon Haven, second in the Rain Wilds Chronicles, certainly considers herself awe-inspiring. But 16-year-old Thymara, her keeper, finds Sintara difficult, nasty-tempered and deformed, with stunted wings.

Girl and dragon are part of an assortment of humans and ill-formed dragons on a quest to discover Kelsingra. The legendary city once housed a culture of dragons and Elderlings, their bizarrely beautiful companions. Natural disasters, personality clashes, passions, greed, conspiracies, blackmail and murder challenge the members of the assembly on their expedition. Some stretch and grow to meet each trial and catastrophe. Others fail; some die. All are forever changed before they reach journey’s end.

As in each of Hobb’s excellent books, characters are varied, fully realized beings, never simply good or bad. Sintara’s fellow dragons range from lowly creatures barely able to function to the large, aggressive Kalo and Mercor, a wise, golden dragon.

The humans are equally unique. They include Alise, a self-taught dragon scholar fleeing the stifled existence of her loveless marriage, and Sedric, her husband’s secretary, tortured by secrets and longings rooted in the past. Unlike those two city-dwellers, Thymara and all but one of the young people chosen to serve as dragon keepers bear the marks of their strange land, with its acidic river and treetop towns. Some keepers have scales instead of hair; Thymara has claws instead of nails. Her odd traits make her an exceptional hunter and gatherer. She must learn to develop the same self-assurance in her interactions with other group members.

The oldest keeper, Greft, attempts to change society’s rules and create ones more to his power-starved liking. In contrast with him are shy Sylve, only 12 years old, and the ebullient Rapskal. One creature is neither human nor dragon, but a living ship named Tarman, capable of making his own decisions, who plays an active role in the mission. Leftrin, a tough Rain Wilds native with an unexpectedly tender heart, captains the liveship.

The Rain Wilds Chronicles are set in the same world as a number of the noted author’s successful and popular series, though the primary characters and setting are different. Readers will have no trouble keeping up with who’s who or what is going on, since Hobb provides sufficient background on events in the previous book, Dragon Keeper. Like the best fantasy novels—or the best in any genre—Dragon Haven delivers not only page-turning entertainment, but subtle perspectives on prejudice, courage, compassion and love—in all its forms.

Leslie Moïse, biblio-omnivore, novelist and memoirist, lives and writes in Louisville, Kentucky.

Rachel Morgan thinks of herself as a good person, but ever since she quit her job and started a business with two friends, circumstances have nudged her to blur the distinctions between good and evil. When it becomes necessary, she twists a curse, using black magic to help others or save herself. Her friends and enemies include vampires, werewolves, gargoyles, pixies, fairies and elves. Sometimes Rachel has trouble deciding whom she can trust. Sometimes that includes herself.

In Black Magic Sanction, Kim Harrison’s eighth novel featuring Rachel, the sexy witch must confront a charming ex-boyfriend who once again betrays her. This time Nick hands her over to a coven of so-called white witches determined to imprison Rachel forever. The coven considers a lobotomy justifiable punishment for Rachel’s use of black magic, no matter how well-intended her motives. They also have no objection to using white magic in deadly combinations in order to bring Rachel into custody. Trapped between them and her long-time enemy, the rich, powerful elf Trent Kalamack, Rachel needs all her skill and her friends’ support if she hopes to survive. The presence of her long-time crush, Pierce, a black magic witch, complicates things even more.

Written with Harrison’s trademark blend of humor juxtaposed with peril, sensuality and magic, Black Magic Sanction is sure to please both long-term fans and newcomers to the series. Harrison provides enough background to keep new readers from getting lost, without spoiling twists from her earlier books.

The character of Rachel remains one of the series’ many strengths. As she learns to deal with increasing amounts of power, she also develops trust in herself. Rachel remains vulnerable, however, especially in her personal life. She is still tempted by danger, often in the form of treacherous men like Nick, Pierce and Trent. Though sometimes considered an airhead, Rachel uses her wits and fighting skills as well as spells to defend herself and those she loves. No wonder her friends, and Harrison’s growing number of fans, stand by Rachel so faithfully.

Leslie Moïse, biblio-omnivore and novelist, lives and writes in Louisville, Kentucky.

Sassy New York actress Esther Diamond finds herself unemployed when the mediocre musical she is in closes without warning. Esther hears about a juicy guest role on a popular television series, but needs income to pay her bills in the meantime, so she reluctantly falls back on her job as a singing waitress at popular mob hangout, Bella Stella. etective Connor Lopez adds to Esther’s frustration. Despite some hot, sexy moments, they cannot seem to move their relationship past the lunch date phase. To increase the tension, Lopez thinks Esther’s friend Max Zadok is a dangerous lunatic. Esther knows Max is actually an ancient sorcerer keeping New York safe from evil, but cannot explain that to Lopez since the hunky detective is a non-believer when it comes to magic.

Lopez is equally upset about Esther’s job at Bella Stella, a sentiment Esther can’t argue with when capo Chubby Charlie is murdered right in front of her. With the help of a semi-retired mob hitman named Lucky, Esther realizes that someone is creating perfect doubles of gangsters from different mob families; soon after each wiseguy meets his “doppelgangster,” he dies. While Lopez tries to solve the mystery using police logic, Esther and Lucky enlist Max’s mystical assistance and it soon becomes clear that someone is using magic in order to start a mob war. As the list of victims grows, so does the danger to Esther and her friends.

The newest in Laura Resnick’s series featuring Esther Diamond, Doppelgangster is unexpectedly light-hearted and funny. Max’s formal diction, magical outlook and old-fashioned sensibilities provide hilarious contrast with Lucky’s blunt approach and Esther’s exotic lifestyle. Conflict and humor arise naturally thanks to the differences between the older men, as well as Lopez and Esther herself, while the sexual chemistry between the couple sizzles more strongly every time they meet. The suspense increases steadily as Esther’s search for clues takes her from various crime scenes to Max’s musty antiquarian bookstore with its cellar laboratory and to a neighborhood church badly in need of renovation. This novel is certain to please anyone who enjoys fantasy blended with suspense, and savors romance with a good dash of wit. 

Leslie Moise lives and writes in Louisville, Kentucky.