Tag Archives: fantasy

Keystone

Book Review of Keystone (Gatewalkers), by Amanda Frederickson

KeystonesIt was over a year ago, but I downloaded Amanda Frederickson’s Keystone from the Amazon free list.

Description from Goodreads:
Charlie knew it would be one of those days. Saturdays are always crowded at the mall’s virtual reality arcade. But she never imagined it would end in being kidnapped by fairies and bitten by a vampire.

A pair of mischievous pixies have decided that Charlie is the hero who will save their world – whether she wants to or not.

Now, to get back to her own world she must rescue a kidnapped princess and find the broken pieces of an ancient artifact. It also couldn’t hurt to convince her guide that he doesn’t want to defect to the enemy horde. Staying alive would be a nice bonus too.

Yeah, it was one of those days. But this time, the monsters are real.

Review:
I’m going to give this book a numeral rating of 3.5. I don’t always, or even often write numbered reviews. But in this case, I think it will help clarify my torn response to this book.

Let me start this review by saying how disappointed I am in this book. It has a wonderfully spunky heroine, a sexy hero, a dangerous antagonist, an engaging quest-based plot, a lot of humour and a whole host of fun side characters. What it does not have is an ending. Worse than that, it doesn’t even pretend that it does. There is NO attempt at a wrap-up or winding down of the plot before breaking for the next book. The book just literally ends out of nowhere.

Now, it’s 200+ pages long, so it’s an appropriate length. But it still feels exactly like someone handed me the first 200 pages of a 400-page book and then denied me the rest. And a denial it is, since there isn’t a second book yet. Someone tell me why authors feel the need to publish half novels? Is it impatience? I enjoyed reading this, but consider it a COMPLETE waste of my time. I don’t like bothering with stories I’ll NEVER see the end of.

Of what there is…I really enjoyed the silliness here. There are a few funny pop references. The characters are witty and largely unflappable, the writing is pretty good and the story itself is interesting. Unfortunately, it’s a relatively complex one. There are a fair number of characters, some history and two different worlds, both of which are only minimally sketched out. For example, Charlie is apparently from some earth-like world in what resembles out near future. It’s not clarified, but it must be near enough for Twilight jokes to still be relevant, but far enough in the future for virtual reality arcades and ultra-pocket computers to be developed, not to mention open acceptance of garish hair colours.

I also thought that the romance was clumsily done. The reader isn’t given any clues about it until suddenly Charlie is endangered and something in Rhys ‘snaps.’ I thought they were a good match, but the author seems to have depended on the predictability of the relationship to situate it, instead of allowing it to develop.

I’m rounding the rating up simply because I did enjoy what I read and a three would be too miserly for the quality of the writing and the bones of the story. But a four is also more than it deserves for having set up soooo many threads and then just walked away and left them ALL hanging without conclusion. But since 1/2 stars aren’t allowed I was forced to choose one way or the other.

Kindred

Book Review of Kindred, by Nicola Claire

KindredI grabbed Nicola Claire‘s PNR, Kindred from the Amazon free list. It’s still free. I suspect it’s perma-free.

Description from Goodreads:
Vampires, shape shifters, ghouls and magic users abound in a world where the Norms, (those humans without paranormal abilities) are ignorant of the creatures of the night and the supernatural species that live alongside them.

Lucinda Monk is a bank teller by day and a vampire hunter by night, but she wasn’t always a part of this world. Thrown into a heady mix of powerful people and sensual beings, she’s had to find her way practically blindfolded in amongst the creatures of the night. But she’s a capable and realistic kind of girl. Her motto: never show fear. But, there’s something different about Lucinda, something those creatures she hunts, want. In order to stay one step ahead of the enemy she has to let the enemy in. In all his compelling, seductive and delicious ways. Sleeping with the enemy has never meant so much before. But, can she trust him?

From the urban streets of the city, to the dark alleys and sinful bars that promise a wickedness a girl from the farm has never before been exposed to, Lucinda gets drawn irreversibly into the dark side of life. And if the Master of the City had his way, she would always be his. For eternity.

Review:
This is feeling like it’s gonna be a long one and may contain mild spoilers.

To start off with, this is very, VERY similar to the Anita Blake series. The heroine, Lucinda, is a vampire hunter instead of a necromancer who hunts vampires (Anita), but she has a very similar attitude. Lucinda’s best friend is a shifter, much like Richard is in the A. B. series and there are hints of a pretty powerful love triangle (One would hope not an actual trifecta. That really would be far too much to chalk up to coincidence), but it’s Michel’s similarities to Jean Claude that really raised my eyebrows.

Jean Claude (from A.B.) is an ill-defined master vampire, whatever that is. Michel (from Kindred) is an ill-defined master vampire, whatever that is. J.C. is the master of his city. Michel is the master of his city. Both are tall. Both have dark, longish hair and blue eyes. Both own/manage nightclubs. J.C. is 400-600 years old and powerful. Michel is 500 years old and powerful. Both are French (both from peasant families). Both are fashion conscious. Both were changed to vampires in their early thirties—J.C. at 30, Michel at 32. Both have voices that are described as having a physical sensory response in the heroine, strokes their skin and such. Both visit their heroines in her dreams. Both use a little French pet name for their romantic interest—J.C. ma petite and/or ma cherie, Michel ma douce and/or ma belle. They’re both arrogant and act/speak in very similar manners. Removed from context and set side by side, I literally wouldn’t be able to tell one from the other.

Given the similarities, I suppose I can say with complete confidence that if you liked Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter you’ll like Kindred. Personally, I found both of them fairly so-so. Not horrible, but I didn’t fall in love either. In the case of Kindred I found that I basically enjoyed it, but had some fairly serious complaints too.

To start with the positive, I like that Lucinda was an unapologeticly sexual woman, without any kind of fuss needing to be made about virginity or lack of experience. It just wasn’t mentioned at all and at 24 year old, it doesn’t need to be. I really appreciated that. So often, PNR heroines are made out to be chaste maidens and the reader has to sit through endless scenes of mental agony over the consequences of having sex. I liked that this book skipped all that. She had sex, but there wasn’t the need to dramatise it.

I also liked that the basic vampire psyche was fairly well thought out and thoroughly explained. It really gave the reader a good understanding of their actions, especially when dealing with instinctual responses to things.

Most of the time, I also liked Lucinda and Michel. Lucinda was fairly sharp and truly brave and Michel could be really sexy sometimes. I didn’t always like them though. Lucinda seemed to constantly be crying over some little thing or another. It made her seem weak. And Michel was a jackass as often as he was a sweetheart.

Lastly, I liked that the book was set in Auckland, New Zealand. The US, followed by the UK are the settings for the vast majority of the genre. It was refreshing to find myself somewhere new, with new terminology, cultural norms, etc.

Next, to move on to things that irritated me; I’ll start with the minor stuff. The whole vampire/vampire hunter partnership made no sense to me. Michel spoke of it as if the vampires and the hunters had come to an agreement, or an ‘accord’ probably, and agreed to it. But the symptoms and consequences are biological. So how does that work then?

What’s more, if it is all based on some past agreement between the species, even one that later somehow became engrained in the biology of hunters and vampires, how can a hunter be forced into it? How, exactly, the bonding takes place was never fully explained. There was a social ceremony but it wasn’t clear which aspect of it actual initiates the binding. I was left confused about one of the most important aspects of the plot. 

Similarly, the whole dream walking made little sense either. She could physically, but invisibly, appear elsewhere with tools she didn’t have with her where her physical body was and actually affect physical reality. Seems unlikely, but more importantly how could that happen?

Next, and I can’t believe I’m saying this; it’s completely opposite of what I’m usually harping on about—books that end without conclusions—but IMO this book should have ended at about 45% and the remaining 50% been a separate book. (The last 5% is bonus material.)

There is a fairly dramatic event around that time that then requires the introduction of a whole new threat (plot) and reads as a separate, but related novel. There are even the occasional recap passages one finds in sequels to remind them of what happened in previous books. The shift felt abrupt. I might not even mention it if this was a stand-alone book. I would just assume the author was trying to keep the whole story in one text and appreciate the effort. But there are 7 subsequent books in the Kindred series, so why not just break it up and make it a 9 book series instead?

Lastly, for the small irritants, there are a series of deus ex machina events. These always annoy me. She repeatedly saves the day, or at least the lives in a situation, by pulling some unknown ultra-power out of her back pocket without knowing how or even that she was capable. These powers weren’t supposed to have manifested yet, but the miraculously do whenever she needs them. That always strikes me as weak.

Now, to move on to the (admittedly vague) major thing that made me grind my teeth. Lucinda was demonstrably powerless. Sure she pulled out the superpowers when need be, but I’m speaking of social and interpersonal power, not magic or fighting skill power.

For all the times she went on and on about equality, her wants, needs and desires were walked over repeatedly. Even her own emotions were manipulated by a variety of male characters. Often the reader would be told something along the lines of, Lucinda didn’t want to feel this way or reciprocate the lust, but her hands/mind/mouth/etc had a mind of their own. It was as if she had no defence against the men’s overpowering presence or that as a woman she had no control over her own sexual responses. God, women have been shoved in that box for generations and I still hate it.

And this manipulation wasn’t just done with vampire super mind control (you know glaze, glamour, rolled mind, etc) but by the fact that she was repeatedly distracted from justifiable anger by giving in to sexual desire when angry, or even worse regretted and cried, then apologised for her own feelings or appropriate retaliation for offences. Why should she have to do this? Men in this book were allowed to get angry, stay angry and react in anger. Lucinda was NEVER allowed this response.

Women just aren’t supposed to do that…not good girls anyway. We’ve all heard some version of it, ‘suck it up honey let the men handle it. They obviously know better than you, even if it makes you want to swallow your own teeth.’

The message became obviously one of secondary status. The problem is that it was written as if to suggest she wasn’t, but actions speak louder than words, as they say, and Lucinda was not the one able to cause change in herself or others, she was only the recipient of it and she then wasn’t even allowed to be angry about it.

As an example, Michel denied her demand to see Rick (her best friend). Michel placed his own image, not even his or her wellbeing, but his image, above her very clearly expressed desire. He did not apologise for this and when she briefly became angry at him a mere act of impressive skill on his part caused her to not only lose her anger, but then become the cliché nurturing woman who set aside her own desire to instead support on his moral journey. She never did get to see Rick and he never had to face putting her wants secondary.

A second example (one that showed up more than once), she wanted to join a fight. He locked her away, despite her protest to prevent this. Circumstances always progressed such that she never remained angry at this and he never had to alter his behaviour.

Even a blatant physical and nearly fatal attack (Michel against Lucinda, because she smelled of another) is dismissed because it’s vampire nature. When Lucinda briefly retaliated (it might be better stated as fought back), she stopped when he asked, despite the fact that her similar pleas hadn’t even paused his attack. Then she cried, apologised and felt bad for her actions. Did Michel? Nope, not all. He’s allowed his anger and reactions to it. Lucinda wasn’t…at all.

That’s like asking a woman to apologise for hitting a man back, without asking the man to apologise for hitting her first, because men (and not women) are, by their very nature, violent creatures. Proverbial show of hands, anyone here find that an acceptable scenario? Because all I did was swap the word vampire for man. That’s exactly how it’s presented in the book, more than once even.

We can pretend she was an equal to Michel, but she was shown to be less able to control herself, her emotions, her environment and her mate than he was.  I hate to read more into this than is there, and I’m not claiming the author wrote it this way on purpose. Instead, and in a way worse, I think it’s a subconscious mimicking of the basic male hegemony. That’s what makes it so pervasive. It’s either unseen or seen as the natural way of things. Even a female author, who likely thought she was crafting a strong, in control, female lead instead wrote a classically second-class little woman. I hate that!

The writing itself was pretty good. The book could do with a little more editing. There are a few typos, it can occasionally be difficult to tell who is speaking and it’s occasionally repetitive. So, final word…I had some major gripes, which I’ll admit as many people as not will role their eyes at, but it was still an amusing read. There was a decent amount of humour and some pretty good sex scenes.  

The Last Dark Elf

Book Review of The Last Dark Elf, by David Lee Kirkland

The Last Dark ElfI snagged a (presumably) used paperback copy of David Lee Kirkland‘s The Last Dark Elf, from Goodwill (.70¢). The book only has one other review. It’s on Amazon, from another woman here in Saint Louis. So I kind of wonder if I just picked up her copy. Sorry, that sort of supposition amuses me.

Description from Goodreads:
The Last Dark Elf is a contemporary fantasy, set primarily near D.C and St. Louis. An Irish immigrant named Scully unwittingly befriends the last surviving dark elf–a character bent on entangling Scully in the ancient war of the elves over the face of magic in the world.

Review:
I thought this was an all right read, maybe not right up my alley but still pretty good. It basically focuses on an ‘honourable man’ and his attempt to reorient his understanding of what is good or evil when his clearly defined worldview is upended by the sudden appearance of magic and mythical creatures. It was often thought provoking, but also I thought occasionally over simplified.

The main character is a devout Catholic, as are his two closest confidants (one is his priest). So for much of the book, what is ‘good’ or ‘evil’ is very Biblically-based. There is no real room for alternative faiths here. By the end of the book, Scully had been forced to face the fact that his belief system wasn’t all encompassing, but neither he nor anyone else in the book ever ventured away from the Christian worldview (at all).

Thus, what could have, in other circumstances, led to deep discussions on the subjective nature of belief or the one-sided tendency to pigeonhole only some as spiritually virtuous or even the danger of valuing dogmatic labels over the importance of human (or other) actions, came across as simple reiterations of what is or isn’t good for the theoretical soul. It was, in my opinion, a real lost opportunity.

HOWEVER, I came into reading this book with very little idea of what it was about or even what genre it fell into. There is a very real possibility that the adherence to Christian/Catholic doctrine and the emphasis on the tenets deeming the soul above all worth was intentional on the author’s part.

I actually liked Scully’s Catholicism. It wasn’t at all preachy, but it gave his character a little depth. Especially since honour, loyalty, duty and maybe belief were sub-themes of the book. However, Father Pisarski and the general tone of the book did take on a very religious feel on occasion. Not quite proselytising, but it made the book feel like I should classify it as Christian Fantasy (with capitals). It was a bit off putting, especially since at least one of the characters happily sitting down to pray with the good father, was an elf and decidedly not Christian. But, maybe that was the intent all along. Perhaps this was written to be just that, Christian Fantasy, and I’m just slow on the uptake.

The story itself is an interesting one. It has a very straightforward narration style. It’s told in a very linear fashion. It really is just a litany of things that happen to the main character. He does this, then this happens, then someone says this, and then they go here and do that, etc. No big twists or unexpected reveals, but an entertaining journey none-the-less. And honestly, though I occasionally wanted to gag at his self-congratulatory nature I did admire Scully’s dedication to doing what he deemed the ‘right thing.’

I did kind of sense a contradiction in this same courageous tendency to stick by his moral guns, though. Sometimes accepting that you’ve been wrong and being willing to change and grow takes a lot more strength of will than simply staying the course. Scully is portrayed as having accepted the dual nature of good and evil that magic and the mystical creatures epitomise, without compromising his faith. However, I can’t actually see this as possible.

While Scully is shown to struggle with the challenge of accepting the new view of reality and maintaining adherence to his Catholic beliefs, the reader is never fully aware of how he balanced them in the end. I never saw that they did. More specifically, accepting the neutral nature of creatures traditionally seen as evil could alienate him from his soul’s ‘true path,’ that Father Pisarski was always harping on about.

The writing was very readable. The main character’s Irish verbiage and word order made it feel formal though. Words are swapped around and there is a notable lack of contractions. As an example, here’s the first two sentences of the book: “Always good it is to see an old friend at Flanagans, the finest of all the Irish pubs gracing Washington, D.C. More than just good—and close to wonderful it is—when he owes you a bit of money and appears after a long absence.”

I didn’t hate this, it jut took a few pages to get used to. But I did have to wonder if he would really have such a strong Irish lilt if he’d lived in D.C. long enough to have been an alter-boy there, which is something he references when talking about Father Pisarski (who wasn’t Irish, so couldn’t be from the old country). Seems he’d sound more American and drop fewer Yodaisms if he’d been here since childhood. But, not a big issue for me.

I also happened to like the way Scully is (or becomes) aware of subtle meanings of things. Elves are apparently the masters of not-quite-lying, but not being wholly honest either. It was fun to follow Scully as he ferreted meanings out. But I appreciated that the reader wasn’t hit over the head with the meanings of things, as if too stupid to figure them out for themselves. 

All in all, I enjoyed the book well enough. I think someone who shared the characters (and probably the author’s) beliefs would get a lot more out of it. But it still wasn’t a bad read.