Starting a fantasy series is a tricky business. Not only must the author tackle the usual tasks of character development and world building, but they must also introduce a central story that is sufficiently compelling and developed to lure the reader into returning for the next instalment. Dan Stout’s Titanshade and Angus Macallan’s Gates of Stone take two different approaches to this challenge, and succeed in vastly different ways.

Gates of Stone stars a menagerie of displaced misfits: a self-exiled, rebellious princess; a lovesick spy with a gambling addiction; a prince who watched as invaders razed his home; and a pair of former priests. As Macallan veers from character to character, drawing their disparate storylines inexorably closer, he builds a world tantalizingly close to historical fantasy, with near-analogues of the Indian, Russian, Chinese and Majapahit empires. However, Macallan’s story is pure high fantasy, complete with evil sorcerers, magic swords, heroic journeys with wise old advisers and magic from all the least likely places. Gates of Stone is a Wheel of Time set in Southeast Asia, but the skill of his writing and his exquisitely detailed world more than make up for the occasionally predictable plot, and the novel ends in a near-perfect fashion—an inspiring victory in danger of disintegrating mere moments after the reader closes the book. It is at once a conclusion and a hook, and firmly situates Gates of Stone as an excellent introduction to Macallan’s grand universe.

The self-contained Titanshade, on the other hand, is equal parts fantasy, Western and film noir. Stout is a blunt, no-nonsense writer of blunt, no-nonsense characters who seem written for a young Harrison Ford. Detective Carter is a human detective in an oil boomtown populated by a variety of species, all of which coexist by a mutual agreement that the oil is worth the trouble. But his latest case involving a murdered diplomat turns into a saga of greed, corruption, zealotry and manipulation, not to mention sorcerous constructs, vigilante prostitutes, mad scientists and weaponized body odor. Stout’s magic is intensely visceral, reading as if the most twisted aspects of medieval mythology were real. His story is almost apocalyptic, as the titular city teeters on the edge of environmental destruction. The only flat characters are those at the story’s periphery, and Carter’s core relationships are complex and well realized. And even though the case is solved at the end, the world of Titanshade remains unstable enough to merit further tales.

While Gates of Stone opens a traditional high fantasy sequence in style, kicking off what is clearly a long story arc, Titanshade feels more like an episode of a procedural, with a fully encapsulated narrative woven through with potential season long plots. They are radically different books, but both are well-crafted and compelling beginnings to their respective series.

Science fiction and fantasy novels are filled with roguish misfits, from heroic starship captains who just can’t stay on the good side of the law to ghoulish assassins who dispense justice from the shadows. Because this trope is so popular, authors sometimes lack the ability to surprise and delight readers with new twists on this old tune, and it takes a clever mind to turn it into something exciting, but both Suzanne Palmer’s Finder and Sam Sykes’ Seven Blades in Black do just that.

Finder is the kind of science fiction you’d get if “Firefly” and Pierce Brown’s Red Rising had a baby—an adrenaline-packed, heist-filled ride with a heavy side of political intrigue. Set against the backdrop of deep space colony Cernee, Palmer’s debut novel follows repo man Fergus Ferguson as he attempts to complete a seemingly straightforward mission: find (and reclaim) the stolen spaceship Venetia’s Sword from one Arum Gilger, local trade boss. When the colony is suddenly pulled into a civil war, Fergus must balance his job against protecting the lives of the locals who he has—unfortunately—begun to care about.

Palmer spins a story that pays homage to the rogue archetype so common to space operas without feeling like a stale copycat. As Fergus Ferguson careens from one end of Cernee to another, we are treated to not just frenetic fight scenes, daring escapes and tense intrigues, but also to the crushing uncertainty of what it would feel like to live in a human colony at the edge of the alien unknown. This contrast enhances an already complex (and not always predictable) plot that captures readers and drags them through to the book’s unlikely and unsettling end.

Like Finder, Sykes’ first entry into the Grave of Empires trilogy is, at first blush, a simple story. Sal the Cacophony is slated for execution but refuses to go until someone hears her final words—even if that means roping an officer of the Revolution into listening to her and being late to her own death by firing squad. Part Gunslinger and part Kill Bill, Seven Blades in Black is a revenge story both classic and wholly original. Sykes brilliantly weaves a tale of adventure, loss and revenge that is set against the backdrop of a countryside torn from decades of magical warfare between the magic-wielding Imperium and the Revolution, which is led by their former slaves.

What stands out most about Seven Blades in Black isn’t the characters, although Sal and her companions are beautifully crafted and far more nuanced than first meets the eye. It also isn’t the magic system, which is both complex and thoughtful in its execution. It isn’t even the breath-stealing plot, which makes the novel’s roughly 700 pages fly by. Instead, what makes Seven Blades in Black so compelling is the depth of the world Sykes has constructed. Sykes isn’t afraid to ask more questions about his world than he answers, leaving readers knowing that there’s more adventure around the corner. That ability to immerse readers in a new world without over-explaining things is difficult in the first book in any series, but Sykes deftly rises to the occasion.

Although radically different in setting and tone, both Finder and Seven Blades in Black offer fantastic, fantastical stories that are sure to delight. Either would be a great pick for anyone who loves rascals, rogues and high-octane adventure.

Starred Review
Sarah Gailey’s fresh, clever Magic for Liars is a study in balance. It’s funny, it’s familiar, it’s sinister, and it’s engrossing. When a teacher is found dead at Osthorne Academy for Young Mages, private investigator Ivy Gamble is enlisted by Principal Marion Torres to investigate the possibility of murder. Ivy knows the school well, as her sister Tabitha teaches on campus. As she starts to interview students and teachers alike, the truth slowly comes into focus—there’s something wicked going on at Osthorne. Even the most casual Harry Potter fan will see similarities to Hogwarts, but Magic for Liars borrows without stealing. Teenage angst and school tensions are present, but Ivy’s adult perspective brings some needed cynicism to the whole affair. This impressive, confident debut is a total blast to read thanks to Gailey’s snappy, nimble writing.

Louis Greenberg’s Green Valley asks what’s more valuable: freedom or peace? Tucked away from the world behind a massive wall, the sense-­altering conclave of Green Valley promises an idyllic life. All inhabitants are fitted with brain-controlling hardware that coordinates a shared hallucination meant to block out the cruel realities of the outside world. When Lucie Sterling’s niece, Kira, goes missing inside Green Valley, Lucie must uncover the truth and expose the dark underbelly of this false refuge. The futuristic technology never distracts from the engaging narrative, and Greenberg centers the story on Lucie’s feelings of uncertainty and disgust even as she peels back the layers of her investigation.

I never thought I’d have much interest in 15th-­century Florence, but toss in about a million demons, and I’m hooked. Hugo Award-winning author Jo Walton does just that in Lent. Brother Girolamo is head of the church of San Marco, and not only can he confer with kings and sway city leaders, but he can also see demons. These creatures of hell gather in places of power to tip the scales in favor of Satan. When Girolamo discovers a treacherous plot at the highest levels of government, just as more and more demons flock to Florence’s walls, he must learn the dark secret of his power over hell in order to save the city. Walton’s detailed, vibrant vision of the Italian Renaissance is amazing, and Girolamo’s shifting relationship with hell is equally mesmerizing. Lent is unlike any other book I’ve read this year and is worth a look for history buffs and fantasy fans alike.

I love the beginning of a story. I love when the escaped droids crash-land on a sandy dessert in a galaxy far, far away or when the wizard shoves a ring into a hobbit’s hands and tells him to run. There is so much possibility, so many ways the world can change the hero, so many surprises to alter and confound my expectations. Usually I’m left wanting to go back in time to savor the adventure all over again. But sometimes we get rewarded for wanting more than a good start. We get sequels. Both of these series’ first volumes crossed my desk a year ago, and I’m happy to report that these follow-ups more than live up to their excellent beginnings.

Fonda Lee’s Jade War takes us back to the Kaul family of No Peak Clan, a crime syndicate vying for control over the city of Janloon. After the tragic events of Jade City, Kaul Hilo finds himself making a truce with his rivals, the Mountain Clan, to protect the mining and export of jade. Though he loathes the public nature of the alliance, the powers of jade are too important for the two clans to be in conflict. Hilo’s sister Shae, his second-in-command, struggles to steer the clan as international forces try to disrupt Janloon’s sovereignty over the precious jade. Their cousin Anden, banished from Janloon, starts to find his way in a new city. When aggressions finally spill over, will the clan be able to avoid an all-out war?

Lee effortlessly injects more complexity into an already-rich universe in Jade War. We get more storylines, more subterfuge and more cloak-and-dagger mafia business. But we also get some very tender and nuanced looks at what it means to be family, the meaning of community and the depths of love. And throughout it all is a sense of tenuous control, the possibility that the family could watch their success evaporate overnight. This is a maturation of the saga, an expansion in both storytelling and scale. But if you’re just craving some more jade-fueled magic, you’ll be right at home, too. There are moments when the statecraft and maneuvering between clans slowed the pace, but several scenes, including a fantastic duel in the middle of the story, picked it back up. Lee proves she’s still a master at mafia-magic storytelling, and this second volume is deeper and more ambitious than the first.

Though Rin was able to end the Third Poppy War with a massive inferno, R.F. Kuang’s The Dragon Republic finds our hero in a sorry state. Overcome with grief for her lost comrades and smoking opium in order to dull the voice of the Phoenix god in her mind, she spends her time planning revenge against the treacherous Empress. When a classmate rescues her and takes her to the powerful Dragon Warlord, she finds a new cause to believe in: democracy. With a proper army, the Dragon Warlord can establish a new government in the name of peace for all. But war with the Empress draws closer every day, and when Rin discovers that her power over fire might not be permanent, she’s left to grapple with who she really is and what she really cares about.

Rin saw more pain and more blood in The Poppy War than almost any other character I have encountered in the last year. Kuang does a wonderful job of showing the effects of that pain in the initial period of this book, as well as the impact of addiction and PTSD. Rin seems destined to find war wherever she goes, and Kuang is fantastic at putting us in Rin’s head to witness her internal conflict. Rin’s army unit serves as a source of both humor and camaraderie in a sometimes-bleak world, but Rin’s ongoing war in her own mind is the real through-line in Kuang’s powerful follow-up.