Tag Archives: paranormal

Fire Rising

Book Review of Donna Grant’s Fire Rising, part one

Fire RisingI got a copy of Donna Grant‘s Fire Rising from NetGalley. This doesn’t qualify for my Taking Care of My Own Challenge, but since it was short I decided to get it out of the way.

Description from Amazon:
Sammi’s world has been blown to bits—literally. With her pub up in flames, she escapes to Dreagan, the only place she will be safe. Her plan is to recover quickly and leave quietly. What she doesn’t count on is meeting the dangerously desirable and enigmatic Tristan…

Tristan is instantly drawn to the woman seeking refuge at the Manor. Dazzled by her stunning beauty and intrigued by her silence about her past, Tristan knows he will not be able to let this woman go, no matter what the cost. And when Sammi slips away from Dreagan, Tristan is compelled to follow…

 Review:
Ok, I have to admit to a foul up when requesting this book. I saw the big old number 1 on the cover and erroneously believed it to be the first in a series. I WAS WRONG! A) It’s part one of a four part serial (that’s what the number one refers to), so it’s not even a complete book. The complete book is due out in June 2014. B) It’s part of the Dark Kings series, which is a spin off the Dark Warriors series, and the Dark Warriors series is a continuation of the Dark Sword series. (Yea, that took a little investigating.) Sooooo, maybe I shouldn’t feel bad about the fact that I was so lost.

But even though the cover and write up probably could have been clearer about its placement within an extensive preexisting world (dozens of books), I can’t really blame it for my mistake. I’ll admit there were a lot of characters I obviously should have known and didn’t, as well as a whole society and species who’s specifics I also didn’t know. (Seriously, I never even got a description of a dragon out of the deal!) This effected my enjoyment, obviously. However, I decided to try and review it without consideration for this fact. Because, again, not the books fault.

The thing is, even if I allow for not knowing the history I still wasn’t particularly impressed. Everything moved incredibly fast. I mean so fast I never had time to develop a connection with ANY of the characters, or become invested in the outcomes of events, or basically care about anything. It almost felt more like an outline of a story than a truly fleshed out one.

Then there was the romance. It’s just as fast as everything else. It’s your basic PNR, ‘he laid eyes on her and lightning went through his body’ kind of thing with no depth of any sort. So, again, there was nothing there to make me care about it.

Now, I adore dragon shifters. They’re one of my favourites varieties. I liked that the characters had obvious Scottish brogues and the actual mechanical writing/editing was fine. But I feel like this book depends heavily on a readers familiarity with and love of PNR tropes to satisfy them, i.e. if readers always love insta-love, they’ll like it here too, no explanation therefore needed. Or readers always love a arrogant, protective man, so they’ll recognise those traits here and love Tristan for it without too much description. Well, while I recognise those tropes, I don’t love them and I don’t think their identifiability exonerates the author of the responsibly of providing clarifying information. All in all, I finished feeling pretty apathetic about the book. I didn’t hate it, but I’m not rushing out for the rest of the series either.

Whisper Cape

Book Review of Whisper Cape, by Susan Griscom

Whisper CapeI grabbed Susan Griscom‘s Whisper Cape from the Amazon free list. This is review number four of my Taking Care of My Own Challenge.

Ridiculously Long Description from Goodreads:

Escape to a world where the impossible becomes possible. WHISPER CAPE is a town of secrets and Addison MacKenna soon becomes tangled in a web of them. Plagued with nightmares of her father’s sudden and brutal death, Addie struggles with her anguish and refuses to believe his demise was accidental. 

Fighting to shake off one of those devastating early morning nightmares, Addison finds it even harder to escape from the vision of a man lying on the side of the road—a man she may have just killed. When she frantically tries to locate him, he seemingly disappears, just the beginning of strange occurrences in her life. She also cannot ignore the weird sensations in her own body. Suddenly, the impossible seems possible, but is that a blessing or a curse? 

Believing that her continual and worsening nightmares are both the key to her own new abilities and the clue to her father’s death, Addie knows she will not rest until she has the answers she craves. As she strives to cope with her new remarkable talents, someone else learns of her abilities—a disgruntled maniacal psychopath with his own agenda that involves eliminating Addie. The only one who can protect her, instruct her in the use of her powers and teach her how to destroy the murderous monster is the same man who makes Addie’s heart race and her blood heat with passion. The same man she’d left for dead. 

Cael Sheridan may be arrogant and mysterious but he’s also undeniably gorgeous. A member of a secret society, he is sworn to protect the woman he believes to be the daughter of his recently murdered mentor. In the process, he finds it impossible to resist her magnetic sensuality, complicating his efforts to shield and guide her as she learns to manage her newly acquired skills. At the same time, Addison has much to teach him about trust and commitment. Fate has brought them together, but will it make them stronger or destroy them both in end?

Review:
I have to be honest, I hate giving bad reviews but I’m thrilled to be done with this book. I was beginning to think I might never reach the end and it really wasn’t ringing any bells for me. Mostly because I disliked the heroine, Addie, and didn’t particularly care for the hero, Cael, either.

Addie was pitiful in almost every sense of the word. In the first 1/4 of the book she had nightmares, almost ran someone over and drove off a cliff, bumped her head into a metal sign so hard she almost fell onto jagged rocks, fell over a cliff and almost died (Seriously, who falls off a cliff that they know they’re standing on because they don’t pay attention to where they put their feet?), got buzzed off two beers and head spinning, passing out drunk off three. The trend only continued after that, tripping into Cael’s arms, staggering on her big girl high heals, etc.

It all made her feel like she couldn’t take care of herself. And not only because of her ridiculous accident proneness, but in little things like her tendency to forget to eat and the crying (even crying herself to sleep at one point). She’s either very child-like or just basically inept and a failure as an adult. I’m going with the latter, since at 26 she had only just gotten her first apartment on her own.

Then there were passages like this, “…the spell of his kisses rendering her helpless. His hands were so sure and knowledgeable…” Yes, that’s obviously a statement that needs to be considered in context, but that’s also essentially the ongoing dichotomy here. She’s helpless and he’s sure. Everyone knows more than Addie. Everyone is more capable than Addie. Everyone looks out for poor fragile, naive Addie. Gag. Helpless women (especially ones who are contradictorily made out to be strong and capable, despite what is shown) drive me up the wall.

Cael, was just…well, I don’t know how to say this less bluntly, but just too predictable. Almost everything, no matter how ridiculous, was seen a mile in advance or a PNR trope. For example, deciding Addie would be better off without him and trying to push her away by being verbally cruel in order to make her believe he doesn’t care for her (for her own good, of course). A) stupid and makes no sense. How is hurting her protecting her? B) a regular, and no less hated for it, PNR event.

Addie’s limp-ragness was the main reason I disliked the book, but a close second was that I kept asking, ‘where is the antagonist?’ No, seriously, he shows up for about a page at 75% (where we see a quick cliché baddie monologue along the lines of  “oh, they’ll pay…blah, blah, blah”) and then for about 3 pages at 95% (where he is defeated with painful ease) otherwise he’s just a cut-out for Cael to protect Addie from while 98% of the book is dedicated to their lightning-speed romance or sex. What more, he had ample access and opportunity to kill, kidnap, maim, rape, or whatever Addie before the big reveal and climactic fight. So, why didn’t he?

Despite all the sex the book has a very YA feel. The way a big deal is made of Addie and Cael having sex, the ‘parent figures’ being seriously over-protective and everyone’s mental agony over being a ‘boyfriend’ or not. These are supposed to be adults? No, these felt like teenagers, with teenage issues.

I found the writing repetitive, in the sense that the reader is told the same thing over and over again, but also in that things happen and then the characters tell other characters about it or events are relayed from various characters. Like Darcy talking about why she and Jarod broke up and then Jarod telling Addie why he and Darcy broke up. Same story, why do I need to hear it twice? Then again, after hearing the story twice, why do we also need multiple reminders of it? (Like Darcy in the bath remembering it.)

I also found the dialogue often (but not always) stiff, occasionally losing contractions, saying names too frequently, or too often starting a comment with yes or please, for example. Whatever the reason, it didn’t feel natural to me. This lent an oddly formal feel to the book.

Lastly, random odd POVs are thrown in occasionally. Despite being side characters we see Darcy and Jarod’s POV. I didn’t understand why. Their small side-story didn’t contribute enough to the plot to necessitate (or excuse) breaking the set POV pattern for inclusion. So I often found myself wondering why I was watching them do whatever unimportant thing they were doing.

All in all, not a winner for me. Believe it or not I dropped a number of minor complaints because I thought too much more would start to border on cruelty.  The above is just my opinion and I apologise for not having more positives to sandwich in there, but by the time I finally finished I was just too far past objectivity to manage it. I disliked the book, but you’ll notice I’ve never claimed it isn’t a quality book or unworthy of being read. The book has an interesting premise and I know a lot of people enjoy it. Maybe you’ll be one of them, even if I wasn’t.

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.