Science Fiction & Fantasy Archives | Page 33 of 66 | BookPage

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.

Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy Historical Fantasy Fantasy

The Bright and Breaking Sea

Review by Laura Hubbard

by Laura Hubbard

Captain Kit Brightling is Aligned to the sea, and she is more than just the queen’s messenger. A captain in the Crown Command, she serves Queen Charlotte of the Isles’ interests directly. And after a successful sting on a smuggling operation produces a coded message from Gerard, the exiled emperor of Gallia, the queen has a new mission for Kit. She is to rescue a captured spy for the queen, and she’s to do it with the unlikeliest of accomplices: Colonel Rian Grant, the viscount of Queenscliffe.

The two instantly dislike and distrust one another. As a foundling tasked with making her own way in the world, Kit is mistrustful of the nobility, and as a former soldier whose friend’s life is in danger, Grant is suspicious of Kit’s magical abilities. But if Kit and her new compatriot are to be successful in their mission, they must trust one another. Because there are worse things afoot than a simple kidnapping. The exiled emperor’s plans could alter the very face of magic and endanger the Isles in the process.

The Bright and Breaking Sea acts as an effective shot across the bow to introduce Chloe Neill’s latest series. Set in the aftermath of a fictionalized version of the first Napoleonic war, it’s full of comfortable tropes that Neill twists into something more complex. Her “brooding noble” is less brooding and more preoccupied with the traditional soldier’s mistrust of the navy and with his own estate issues. Espionage and pirates come aplenty, but there is no threat of mutiny aboard Kit’s crew. Neill doesn’t shy away from the occasional joke about class conflict, but she dispenses with the more heavy-handed and overdone tropes surrounding female characters in historical settings. While Kit does face some prejudice as a woman, the resistance she faces is as much because of her age and her status as a magic user as it is because of her gender. This change allows Kit to be more than just a “strong female main character” who has rebuffed traditional gender roles. She is instead a woman with a strong sense of duty to both country and family, a deep love of the sea and an endless amount of distrust for the nobility. In Kit, Neill creates a character who is lovable, easy to root for and believably competent.

The Bright and Breaking Sea is a rollicking book full of seafaring intrigue and fun from beginning to end. More Charlie Holmberg’s Paper Magician than Patrick O’Brian’s Master and Commander, it’s a light, thoughtful and occasionally thought-provoking book that focuses on relationships and internal struggles more than naval battles. For readers who love dialogue-heavy, character-driven fiction, this is a perfect fall read. Just be prepared to be heartbroken when the story (temporarily) ends.

Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Short Stories

Science Fiction & Fantasy Short Stories Science Fiction

To Hold Up the Sky

Review by Noah Fram

by Noah Fram

Short stories in science fiction are frequently answers to questions. What if, an author wonders, an incomprehensibly powerful alien being were inspired by an ice sculpture? Or what if there were nations in cyberspace, separate and distinct from their real-world counterparts? What if a world on the brink of annihilation could be saved by a poet? Or a teacher?

Each of these questions is explored in a story in Cixin Liu’s new collection, To Hold Up the Sky. These stories span three decades of his writing career, from 1985 to 2014, and although many have been published before, all are new to his English-speaking audience. As with any writer over such a long period, Liu’s style evolves from the earliest stories to the more recent ones, and yet they are all immediately recognizable as his work.

In some ways, Liu's point of view is rare among science fiction novelists of his international stature. Unlike most of his peers in the Western science fiction scene, whose worlds frequently comment on fundamental human failings or the dystopian struggles of an inconsistently ethical society, Liu’s work is suffused with an understated optimism. To Hold Up the Sky is no different. In fact, he hints at this in the foreword, where he mentions that in his writing, he is always attempting to depict “the relationship between the Great and the Small.” To him, the “Small” is all of humankind, and at this project's core, there's a presumption that humans are always more united than we are divided, that our communal nature is our defining characteristic as a species and that free will, along with the frailties and flaws that it allows, is essential to that collaborative instinct. (And yes, that does sound like a contradiction, but this is addressed and dispensed within one of the stories in To Hold Up the Sky.)

This realistic but positive outlook is shared by a few other science fiction writers—Isaac Asimov, Carl Sagan, Becky Chambers and Iain M. Banks come to mind—but rarely is it as essential to a speculated universe as in Liu’s prose. As a result, few writers achieve quite the same flavor of optimistic apocalypse or infuse existential dread with such a tangible thread of hope. Throughout To Hold Up the Sky, Liu brings his collections of ice sculptors and poets and computer scientists and military engineers teeteringly close to oblivion. He does so knowing that the crisis is finite, and that humanity in its feeble entirety will either survive, learn and grow, or simply . . . stop. And he insists that there is beauty either way.

I am not certain if I agree with this sentiment. It is both too cynical and too idealistic for me. (See? Yet another contradiction!) But either way, Liu is far too good a writer for me to put this book aside.

Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy Historical Fantasy Fantasy

The Tower of Fools

Review by Ralph Harris

by Ralph Harris

Take a moment and consider the last time you studied medieval European history, specifically the advent of Hussite “heresy” in the wake of John Wycliffe’s translation of the Bible into the common tongue. Focus specifically on the years between 1400 and 1440, during which the first through third anti-Hussite crusades took place. If these inquiries bring specific, vivid events to mind, then The Tower of Fools by Andrzej Sapkowski will be a fitting read for an enterprising European history enthusiast such as yourself.

Set in the powder keg of 15th-century Europe, The Tower of Fools brings readers into a richly referential world of Christian history as it casually dissects the events leading to the Protestant Reformation. Often Sapkowski's references come audaciously close breaking the fourth wall (a character quite literally references nailing theses to a wall while coincidentally owning a cat named Luther). These references are spearheaded by our protagonist, Reinmar of Bielawa, who is an infamous seducer of married women and also a doctor, a student and a mage.

While the book is strongly grounded in the real events and politics of Catholic history in Europe, Sapkowski delights in depicting a range of magical abilities and creatures in his version of medieval Europe. His characters encounter the supernatural in a fairly believable way: with heavy skepticism, then fear, then denial and then, finally, acceptance. Magic, witchcraft and magical creatures enter and exit the story with such abruptness that neither readers nor characters have time to digest the last before the second appears before them. The supernatural elements, however, are not the primary crux of the story. The Tower of Fools deploys irony with the grace of a stampeding elephant, and, as such, our story centers on the king of fools, Reinmar. Reinmar embarks on a journey in which every wise character, force of nature, twist of fate and clear sign from God attempts to dissuade him from pursuing who Reinmar believes is his one true love, Adele. Adele is, naturally, a married woman, and Reinmar meets a motley crew of miscreants during his harrowing quest for her love.

The Tower of Fools clearly sets up for a series but provides ample entertainment as a standalone story. Sapkowski’s primary draw is his ability to weave rich historical context with a complex atmosphere of magic and superstition. The central characters are merely points of view that provide the reader a detailed perspective of the world; Reinmar and company are simple characters who grow little by the end of the story. However, this simplicity services the story Sapkowski tells, providing an easy starting point for readers to navigate the complex politics and superstition of the time period. While this is certainly not a slow read, Sapkowski does dole out plot points at a methodical pace. The first 300 pages or so pass before our central triad of characters meet up, and even longer passes before the larger subplots begin to come together.

Even with a fairly extensive understanding of Catholic history, I needed to keep Google handy while reading, and at one point I looked up a map of Silesia at the narration’s not-so-subtle prompting. Sapkowski often incorporates three other languages, and occasionally up to five, in addition to English: Polish, Latin and Italian primarily, with occasional French and German. He incorporates theology from early church figures like Augustine alongside the “modern” church leaders of the early- to mid-1400s, such as Wycliffe and Jan Hus and the Roman Curia. I would strongly suggest readers take the time to look up the words and references they do not understand. If all of these languages and references scare you—good. They should. The Tower of Fools is not an easy read, but it's quite rewarding for readers ready to take the plunge.

Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy Fantasy

Shadows of the Short Days

Review by Chris Pickens

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.

Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy Fantasy

Black Sun

Review by Ralph Harris

by Ralph Harris

Readers will be riveted by powerful world building and deep characterization for the entirety of Rebecca Roanhorse’s Black Sun. Right from the start, the story is on the clock. The Convergence, an alignment of Sun, Moon and Earth, approaches, and Serapio, a boy from a far-off land, brings magic and doom with him to his mother’s homeland of Tova.

As the characters make their way toward Tova for the Convergence, the narrative perspective shifts constantly between Serapio, the Sun Priestess Naranpa and a sea witch of sorts named Xiala. While there are a few twists and turns to the plot, Roanhorse paints her story in broad, easy-to-follow strokes, the action serving almost as backdrop upon which to paint her world and to enrich her characters.

As perspectives change, so do the rhythm and meter of the text, matching the mannerisms and personality of each character. When Xiala is guiding the narrative, her brash, blunt nature creates shorter, more direct sentences. People characterized by Xiala are often summarized by their physical characteristics first, their emotional resonance second. This shift in narrative tone and theme is most notable when Serapio is in the hot seat. Blind, brooding and by far the most powerful character, Serapio offers a perspective that often clashes with others’ views of him and his surroundings. This attention to detail in character voice creates an engaging story that keeps the reader in the moment through shifting narrative lenses.

The world of Black Sun is well built and clearly inspired by the Pre-Columbian Americas. Roanhorse has constructed a world of multiple regions and religions, intertwined by their roots, culture and money (cocoa, in the Mayan fashion) but split by their beliefs. Each character has a different perspective on the story’s events; a relational diagram displaying where the characters agree, disagree and agree-but-do-not-quite-know-it would have to be three-dimensional and incorporate multiple referencing lines, mirroring their real-life relationships. Roanhorse’s humanization of Black Sun’s characters creates genuine connection for the reader, even with the Sun Priestess, despite any lack of sun-star divination skills the reader might have.

Also, this book has extremely cool magic. Crows eat people, the sun goes dark, and the ocean sings with its children—wild forces of creation running rampant on small to massive scales. (There’s something incredible about reading “THE SUN WENT DARK.” It paints a remarkable picture.) Truly, the fact that this review has only now gotten to this aspect of Roanhorse’s fantasy world demonstrates Black Sun’s multifaceted appeal.

Black Sun has one drawback: It is clearly the start of a series, and ends like it. Readers looking for an open-and-shut story will not find it here. As referenced before, the story is a set piece for the characters to interact with the setting and each other, but there is plenty of fascinating interplay and world building to keep readers engaged and entertained from start to finish.

Readers will be riveted by powerful world building and deep characterization for the entirety of Rebecca Roanhorse’s Black Sun

Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy Science Fiction

Zoey Punches the Future in the Dick

Review by Stephanie Cohen-Perez

by Stephanie Cohen-Perez

From its title, David Wong’s second installment in the adventures of heiress Zoey Ashe promises an unforgettable, bizarre and brain-bending storyline, and it does not disappoint.

Wong’s futuristic sci-fi whodunit reintroduces readers to now 23-year-old Zoey, whose chaotic life is anything but boring. Having inherited a fortune in less-than-savory businesses from her estranged, deceased father—pseudonym “Arthur Livingston”—her former existence in a Colorado trailer park with her smelly feline friend, Stench Machine, and her single, eccentric mother, Melinda, feels like a lifetime away.

In this sequel to Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits, set in the lawless futuristic city of Tabula Ra$a, Wong reprises the witty, satirical narration that readers that have come to expect from his work. In this world, rules are constantly shifting, rich people are to bodyguards as sharks are to remoras, and hedonistic temptations abound, from gaudy, animated neon advertisements and all-night Cuddle Inns and sex theaters, to brothels and extreme virtual reality experiences.

Wong so completely immerses readers in this vivid, technothrilling setting that new characters feel like old friends, and Zoey is as lovable as ever as she tries to be a “normal” goth-grunge, Halloween-loving party girl and cat mom while still running a criminal empire. Zoey has inherited a team of professionals from her crime kingpin father: the charming, cowboy hat-donning Texan, Budd; the beautiful, lithe and lethal Echo Ling; and the fiercely loyal and stoic sniper Wu. But the public and, more importantly, the internet seem to loathe Zoey, with her unconventional appearance and her inheritance. At this point, she’s escaped more than a few hostage and assassination attempts.

When an animated, organless corpse arrives on her doorstep and accuses her of murder, Zoey and her team must battle rabid conspiracy theorists, vulturistic and violent vigilante journalists and even an ominous secret society to clear her name and unearth the truth. Through it all, tensions grow among the underground crime leaders, and the Unrest Index of Tabula Ra$a continually rises.

Wong’s sequel is a high-energy and flawless segue into a new episode of Zoey’s life and easily proves itself to be a compelling standalone work. This wholly original world feels like a fever dream, with shiny gadgets like color-changing convertibles, mechanized superhuman implants and a coveted 3D printer that can craft both powerful weapons and head-turning Halloween costumes at a moment’s notice. Wong’s biting commentary on social media, internet trolls, fandoms gone wrong, incel culture, mansplaining and the ethics of genetic engineering—not to mention the cyberbulling and harassment that Zoey endures as a plus-size woman with a walk-in closet full of band T-shirts and two missing teeth in her smile—is a testament to the power of pop fiction. His combination of captivating character development, sci-fi satire and dark, clever humor is a revelation.

From its title, David Wong’s second installment in the adventures of heiress Zoey Ashe promises an unforgettable, bizarre and brain-bending storyline, and it does not disappoint.

Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy Science Fiction

The Ministry for the Future

Review by Laura Hubbard

by Laura Hubbard

The future we face under climate change is often presented as a progression of sterile facts: The world’s oceans are likely to rise by X meters by the year 2100. Global average temperatures are going to increase by Y degrees over the next 30 years. There will be Z millions of climate refugees seeking new homes. The problem with these numerical descriptions of a hellishly hot future is that they often ignore the human toll of climate change. Not so in Kim Stanley Robinson’s latest book, The Ministry for the Future. Robinson’s view of climate change is deeply personal, inescapably human and utterly horrifying.

The Ministry for the Future frames the story of humanity’s future around the formation and future-history of an international organization of the same name. Established in 2025, its mission is straightforward: It must advocate for the future of the Earth and the creatures that make their homes here. What this means, in practice, is trying to mitigate—and bear witness to—the human toll of catastrophic climate change. Robinson structures his story as a series of oral histories, eyewitness accounts of a changing world. While this technique isn’t new, it is unique in both the number of different accounts Robinson chooses to follow and the type. Robinson doesn’t focus on the macro or the micro; he focuses on it all. While the novel opens with the account of the sole survivor of a killer heat wave in Lucknow, India, it doesn’t stay there. It ranges from international politics (Is geoengineering a viable solution? What would happen if a single country unilaterally decided to engineer a solution to rising temperatures?) to the stories of individuals dealing with PTSD, forced migration and heat waves, among other things.

The Ministry for the Future isn’t really a book for folks who are used to (or longing for) grand space operas and tales of cosmic exploration and action. Although Robinson’s prose is evocative, the book isn’t exactly exciting. Robinson’s writing is sparse, and what plot that exists within the pages of this book is often obscured by its structure. Much like the future, The Ministry for the Future doesn’t lay itself out in a straight and orderly fashion.

Despite its occasionally dry tone, Kim Stanley Robinson’s take on our future is one of the most moving pieces of climate fiction written in a very long time. Well researched and beautifully written, The Ministry for the Future is a thought-provoking (and sometimes even hopeful) read for anyone looking to the future and wondering what’s coming next.

Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy Fantasy

A Deadly Education

Review by Amanda Diehl

by Amanda Diehl

Nebula Award-winning, New York Times bestselling author Naomi Novik returns with the can’t-miss fantasy of fall 2020, a brutal coming-of-power story steeped in the aesthetics of dark academia.

The Scholomance school in Wales has a very specific purpose: Uphold the balance of good and evil, and prevent the latter from running rampant. The evil here takes the form of the maleficaria, monsters that think teenage wizards coming into their own are particularly tasty snacks. The solution was to create the Scholomance, a place where the teen wizards can congregate and harness their powers while simultaneously drawing the maleficaria into one central location. Not everyone survives, and that’s before graduation day, when seniors must battle their way past the hordes of demons and monsters as a way of “passing” their education.

And you thought your high school experience was rough.

El is a student at the Scholomance with an affinity for dark magic. While her acerbic personality is enough to keep people at arm’s length, the possibility that her magic could grow into a magnificent display of villainous sorcery is a close second. To further cement her role as a school outcast, El is biracial and struggles with not identifying enough with either her Welsh mother or her Indian father. She was distant from her father's side of the family while growing up, but her brown skin still keeps her from being fully accepted by her mostly white European classmates. Her magic and her identity prevent her from fitting in, making her compensate with a sharp tongue and standoffish attitude. If you’ve been searching for the antiheroine of your dreams, El is a strong contender. There is something so cathartic about being in El’s mind, seeing the world through familiarly jaded and angry eyes. The thought of being able to wield her power even just for a second, and the confident way she nurtures and uses her abilities are the vicarious experiences many restless readers will appreciate.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Why Naomi Novik turned to the dark side of fantasy.

Do not be fooled by the book's high school setting and the presence of teen wizards, as this is very much an adult fantasy novel (if the demons who feast on teenage wizards wasn’t a clear giveaway). The twisted trial by fire endured at the Scholomance by its students is the only solution that’s been proven to control the maleficaria, but the scales are tipping and El worries there could be disastrous consequences. But there is lightness amidst the viscera in El’s growing friendship with Aadhya, an Indian American student, and the bickering beginnings of a romance with the popular, do-no-wrong Orion. It reminds readers that at the end of the day, these people are trying to deal with the complexities of hormones and emotions and identity . . . if they could forget about the monsters trying to kill them for five seconds.

A Deadly Education is a wild ride that never ceases to yank the rug out from under readers. El is a heroine you want to root for over and over, while still worrying about what all this means for her future. Will she embrace the darkness and become the evil sorceress she was born to be? Or will she guide her magic down a different and more surprising path? It’s not a question easily answered, especially in a world that takes no prisoners and requires a high price from its magic users.

As a reader, nothing is more thrilling than discovering an author blessed with boundless imagination. A Deadly Education will cement Naomi Novik’s place as one of the greatest and most versatile fantasy writers of our time.

Nebula Award-winning, New York Times bestselling author Naomi Novik returns with the can’t-miss fantasy of fall 2020, a brutal coming-of-power story steeped in the aesthetics of dark academia.

The Scholomance school in Wales has a very specific purpose: Uphold the balance of good and evil,…

Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy Fantasy

The Ikessar Falcon

Review by Noah Fram

by Noah Fram

Talyien, Queen of Jin-Sayeng, has been betrayed. She is in hiding, sheltered by a slumlord in Anzhao City while she recovers from her confrontation with the sorcerer Prince Yuebek and a disastrous reunion with her estranged husband, Rayyel. Her own guards have mostly abandoned her, leaving her protected only by Nor, her guard captain; Agos, her childhood friend; and Khine, a onetime physician and con artist from the city’s seedy depths. And yet, it seems Talyien still has further to fall: Her erstwhile host turns her over to the city’s corrupt governor. Her escape, aided by a shadowy faction from her home country, leads ever deeper into a morass of plots, secrets and magic that tests the strength of her friendships, distorts her late father’s legacy, and threatens the fabric of reality itself.

The Ikessar Falcon, K.S. Villoso’s sequel to The Wolf of Oren-Yaro, is fast-paced to say the least. It transitions from the dark political fantasy of the first book to an apocalyptic epic reminiscent of Terry Brooks’ The Elfstones of Shannara at breakneck speed. There are almost too many plot twists and new developments to track, which would be confounding were it not for the strength of Villoso’s portrayal of Talyien. The queen is clearly in the same boat as the reader as she struggles to keep up with the sheer pace at which her world is being turned inside out. Perhaps the most compelling subplot is Talyien coming to terms with the nature of leadership and what it means to rule. The Ikessar Falcon also includes some fascinating developments in Talyien’s relationships, especially those with Rayyel, Agos and Khine. Villoso’s clear talent for characterization is as evident as ever.

However, the most striking differences between The Wolf of Oren-Yaro and The Ikessar Falcon are the rapid expansion in the setting and the abrupt shift in the role of magic. While the first book emphasized the political intrigue and cultural complexity of both Jin-Sayeng and Zirinar-Orxiaro, the second book recasts magic as the driving force behind all the machinations. In addition, while The Wolf of Oren-Yaro took place over a few days and was set almost entirely in the urban confines of Anzhao City, The Ikessar Falcon compresses weeks of travel across oceans and continents into gaps between chapters. Although the characters are as compelling as ever, these shifts move Villoso’s series closer to the typical epic fantasy, and results in a much broader writing style than the tightly constructed, setting-specific voice of the first book.

The Ikessar Falcon retains the excellent characterization and intrigue of The Wolf of Oren-Yaro while expanding both its world and the plot at a head-spinning rate. It does everything the middle book of a trilogy should with an uncommon degree of authorial skill, and is a thoroughly entertaining read in its own right.

Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy Historical Fantasy Fantasy

Dracula’s Child

Review by Noah Fram

by Noah Fram

J.S. Barnes’ sequel to Bram Stoker’s Dracula finds Jonathan and Mira Harker having just returned to England after their horrific Transylvanian collision with the inimical Count Dracula. Their son, named for their tragically deceased friend Quincey Morris, is growing up. But the glow of their victory over the ancient vampire is soon tainted, as comrades die while speaking evil portents and young Quincey seems strange, even to his own mother. The Harkers and the remaining members of their circle reassure themselves with the knowledge that the Count is dead by their hand, and he cannot return from beyond the grave they fashioned for him. But there are shadows gathering in the deep Romanian forests, and they have designs on the world outside.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: J.S. Barnes shares what inspired him to revisit Dracula.

In Dracula’s Child, Barnes portrays vampires at their most sinister. They do not sparkle, nor do they enjoy shopping; rather, they hunger, and only the eldest and most disciplined among them can control the urge to feed. The gothic, almost oppressively macabre atmosphere is enhanced by Barnes’ revival of Stoker’s epistolary form. Not only is it an effective allusion to the original material, but telling this new story through diary entries, letters and newspaper clippings also forces the reader to experience the events almost in real time. There are no hints of omniscience; instead, Barnes is downright miserly with foreshadowing, offering only hints of what is to come. The result is both an admirable blend of horror and dark fantasy and an accurate reconstruction of the original’s mood.

However, Dracula’s Child is not just a sequel in form and cast, but also in its interpretation of its monster, and it is this quality that renders it particularly timely. Barnes extends Stoker’s underlying metaphor connecting vampirism to sexual abuse to include the seduction of social and cultural power. In Dracula’s Child, vampires do not merely threaten the life and well-being of their victims: rather, they seek to exert power over entire societies, and they are adept at wielding sensationalism, mass opinion and the levers of public policy to accomplish their aims. The reader is left wondering how their own society would react to a vampiric intrusion, or indeed, if the vampires are already here.

Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy Science Fiction

An Unnatural Life

Review by Ralph Harris

by Ralph Harris

An interplanetary bureaucracy faces a moral dilemma in Erin K. Wagner’s An Unnatural Life, a novella that prioritizes thoughtful questions over dramatic plot points. An Unnatural Life focuses on answering exactly one question: Who, or what, is guilty of murder? Aiya, a lawyer living on Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons, takes the case of an android named 812-3, who has been convicted of killing a human worker. Were 812-3 human, the case would certainly have been labeled a mistrial and would be liable for appeal. Aiya takes on the role of representing him, applying for appeal on his behalf even though androids do not have equal rights under the law on Europa.

Wagner lets the story unfold in a passive, third-person voice, creating an atmosphere more reminiscent of nonfiction and biography than science fiction. Events play out as if a neutral party were merely reading the thoughts of Aiya, or calmly dictating her actions. As a result, no moral question or dilemma is resolved or answered by the narrative; the reader is left to ponder these questions themselves.

This documentarian voice allows Wagner to paint with the brush of a journalist, depicting events clearly and factually. Feelings of disgust, fear or suspense in the reader are neutralized in favor of thoughtful inquiry measured with reasonable skepticism. Similar to most nonfiction explorations of modern events, An Unnatural Life eschews a normal, tidy ending for one that is more realistic. While Aiya’s emotional and social journey is certainly not uneventful, Wagner’s nihilistic take on the state of humanity does not leave room for much to change by the end of the story.

Perhaps due to its placement beyond the asteroid belt, or its entirely icy nature, Europa serves as an excellent backdrop for Wagner’s stoic and cold novella. While Mars or Venus may appeal to the uninitiated, Europa has always had a distinctly alien, otherworldly feel. The choice of setting also facilitates a likely setup for a sequel: a series of short, first-person radio logs that document an explorer’s journey into the unknown areas of Europa. This subplot gives the novella an interesting cadence as it bounces the reader between suspenseful exploration and courtroom politicking, sometimes within the space of two paragraphs.

An Unnatural Life will appeal to the philosopher within its audience, those who want to cozy up and consider a lightly challenging moral and ethical dilemma.

Fantasy, Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy Fiction Fantasy

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

Review by Kathryn Justice Leache

by Kathryn Justice Leache

In V. E. Schwab’s genre-bending 17th novel, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, the reader first meets Addie as she is fleeing a life she doesn’t want, one that has been chosen for her by her parents. In the year 1714 in Villon, France, 23-year-old Addie is being forced to marry a widower from her village whose children are in want of a stepmother. Instead of submitting, Addie runs. “She doesn’t slow, doesn’t look back; she doesn’t want to see the life that stands there, waiting. Static as a drawing. Solid as a tomb. Instead, she runs.”

She also prays to the old gods, as her friend Estele, the village witch, has taught her. Estele warned her never to pray to the gods that answer after dark, but as dusk bleeds into night, Addie accidentally conjures just such a god, whom she will come to know as Luc. He promises Addie of “time without limit, freedom without rule” in exchange for her soul. Only after the deal is struck does Addie understand the secret cost of this arrangement. She can live for a thousand years if she likes, but nobody will ever remember her. Until one day, in New York City in the year 2014, she walks into a bookstore and, for the first time in 300 years, someone does. It’s a twist that changes everything she thought she knew about her future and the decisions that await her.

At the heart of this novel is a meditation on legacy, time and the values each person uses to guide their path. Freed from a life’s traditional arc of aging and transitions, the indefatigable Addie must proactively decide how she wants to spend her days and which sacrifices are worth her soul’s survival. This is a hopeful book from an author who is known for dark, violent stories, which makes it both a delightful surprise and a balm in difficult times.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Victoria Schwab discusses her “strange, hopeful book.”

Freed from a life’s traditional arc of aging and transitions, the indefatigable Addie must proactively decide how she wants to spend her days and which sacrifices are worth her soul’s survival.