“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.

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.