Tag Archives: won

Review of Nathan Young’s Fire and Ice, The Fall Begins

I won Nathan Young‘s novel Fire and Ice, The Fall Begins in a Goodreads First Reads giveaway. (For the record, that cover freaks me out a little bit. Don’t know why, though.)

Description from Goodreads:
Danny Patterson never promised that he was a good man, and despite his experiences living in Leigh Park, he is actually quite vulnerable. But with Stacy Ryan at his side, he is finally beginning to find some closure. He has fought for what he believes in on many occasions, however when he finds himself the prey of Alistair Carter and a sinister group known only as The Rogues, he is inadvertently pulled into a grotesque game of cat and mouse from which he may not survive. 

Death waits for no man; today, the fall begins…

Review (with slight spoilers):
It was alright, I guess. This was a Firstreads win and one of the joys of the giveaways is that you chance winning something completely outside your normal reading area. From Fire and Ice‘s blurb I wouldn’t have thought this one was too far outside of mine, but I think this book has a fairly specific target audience, that of the young English male. For the record, I’m a 35-year-old American female. 

I think the book would be most enjoyed by this particular group of people for a few reasons. First, despite living in England for several years, I didn’t have enough of an intuitive understanding of what Leigh Park is and, therefore, didn’t have the automatic knowledge that the author presumes readers will possess. Apparently, people coming out of the area will naturally be tough motherfuckers by virtue of growing up there. If it had been set in Camden, NJ, or East St. Louis, IL, I might have understood this, or if I was English and familiar with Leigh Park’s reputation. But it isn’t, and I’m not, so I was a little too slow on the uptake in the beginning. I didn’t initially grok why Danny was such a good fighter and shot without having been trained in any way. It didn’t make much sense to me. He felt too good at everything. 

Now I’m not saying all books need to be targeted to an American audience or anything so horribly nationalistic, especially since I was IN ENGLAND when I won it…well within the geographic confines of what I would consider its targeted readership. I just could have done with an info-blurb or something in the beginning that others probably wouldn’t have needed. [Unless, of course, Danny’s exceptional skill isn’t meant to be the result of growing up on a run-down, gang-infested council estate, but then I would have to take exception to it for other reasons.]

Secondly, there are quite a few descriptions of the specifications and capabilities of cars and guns in the book. Here is an example:

The SA-8OA1 was the standard issue assault rifle and light support weapon of the British Army. Manufactured jointly between BAE systems and Heckler & Kock, it entered service in 1987. It had an effective range of 450 metre’s when fired with an aperture iron sight whilst later variants of the rifle were kitted out with telescopic SUSAT sights. Gas operated and using rotating bolt mechanism, the SA-8O fired the 5.56 x 45 mm NATO cartridge fro a 30-round detachable STANAG magazine and had a fully automatic rate of fire of between 610-775 rounds per minute.

Now, as a woman, I honestly just don’t care. ‘He had a big gun’ would have been enough for me, but if I was a young man or a gun enthusiast (who knew what half of that meant), I might be thinking ‘right on.’ 

I don’t think I was the intended demographic for this novel, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy any of it. I appreciated the friends’ loyalties to one another. For some reason, I really liked Ade. I’m not even certain why, but I did. I enjoyed the small normal moments, like stopping for a cup of tea (though Carter did anomalously enter the tea area to drink coffee on occasion, shock/horror) or enjoying a good bacon sarnie. This went a long way toward providing the reader a peek into their lives and humanizing them. I also appreciated the fact that it didn’t have a cookie-cutter happy ending, which would have been really unrealistic in this circumstance. As the first in a series the book definitely ends on a clanger that makes you want to know what is coming next and looks to focus on far more than one man’s fight to save himself and his loved ones. 

There is some repetition in the writing. I seem to recall someone, probably Danny, sinking into ‘dark darkness,’ the word instantly being used three times in one paragraph and slightly three times in two sentences. There isn’t anything inherently wrong with these examples, but such things always drag me out of the fantasy and force me to notice the words on paper.

In the end, while I openly expect that others will whole-heartedly love this book, the best I can say is that it was OK. I couldn’t help wondering why it focused on Danny (especially since the initial hit wasn’t intended to be him in the beginning). Surely, the police, his friends, the bad guys, etc, would be more interested in the person whose identity set the whole mess off in the first place than his friend. I also wondered why everyone was so willing to just let him take care of everything as if no one else was involved. Why the protagonist and antagonist wanted each other dead very very badly, but somehow never simply shot each other. They both had numerous opportunities.  There seemed to be some drastic leaps of logic, where a character knew A and, therefore, immediately knew B, with no apparent reason why. For example, how Paul knew that the relatively common name ‘Carter’ must be Alistair Carter, a man he presumably hasn’t seen in ~20 years, doesn’t know Danny, and would have no obvious reason to be involved in what might otherwise be presumed to be a basic gang turf war. Some extreme decisions are based on this knowledge, but I can’t fathom how he could be so certain. And I never could reconcile the cold killer in the beginning with the man Danny was at the end. It was meant to have come full circle, but they didn’t feel like they met up with me.

Review of P.L. Parker’s The Chalice

Some time ago I won a copy of P.L. Parker‘s The Chalice from Laurie’s Thought and Reviews.

Description from Goodreads:
Decimated by the savage Deg’Nara and teetering on the brink of extinction, the last surviving males of the once great Chiagan-Se embark on a quest to salvage what is left of their civilization. They send their remaining seeker ships into the void, searching for genetically compatible females. Time is running out, but in the far reaches of the universe, on an obscure and primitive planet, a match is discovered.

One thousand panic-stricken women awaken two hundred years in the future, captives aboard an unmanned alien spacecraft bound for parts unknown! How had they gotten there and why? 

The males thought they came willingly. The females believed they’d been kidnapped. Full of hopeful expectation, the Chiagan-Se prepare for the arrival of their new mates. Terrified and furious at the inexplicable abduction, the women prepare for combat! And when the two sides meet, the battle commences.

Even though I won a copy of The Chalice way back in June, I put off reading it because I honestly hate the cover. It makes me think of bad Swedish porn. (No offense against the Scandinavian porn industry. I’m sure they have some good porn too.) And come on, lets face it, the plot-line of a ship full of females bound for a the arms of a wholly male populace is rife with the possibility of cheap bow-chica-bow-wow moments. It could easily go bad very quickly. But I wanted to support the author and appreciate the winnings so I gave it a chance.

I made it 45% into the book before there was even a hint of a kiss and a good 250 pages before there was a sex scene. (It was only the first of two and fairly mild to boot.) Relief, not porn then. What it was instead was funny. Now, I don’t mean the trying to take itself too seriously, forcing you to laugh derisively at it funny. No, I mean the genuinely and intentionally humorous type of funny. Danesha, or ‘Dread’ was a whole ball of fun all by herself. Never have I encountered such a bitter and pessimistic character that makes you love her so much. No matter how dire the circumstances you could count on her to think of something worse and lighten the mood. Then there was a little bit of slapstick and all of the basic misunderstandings that one would expect to encounter when two sentient species are forced to interact. I laughed out loud a lot.

Some of the characters were a little stereotypical. Dread was after all a foul mouthed African American from the Detroit ghetto who was always ready for a fight. Then there was the stiff lipped Englishwoman who always kept her cool, the whinging Irish woman who kept wailing ‘I dinnae nooo,’ the busty blond Swede, and the placid Japanese ninja-type. They were a lot of fun though. A little more thought seems to have gone into the male cast. Parker painted them as contradictorily strong, hot-blooded warriors who also happened to feel like lost little boys. I really enjoyed seeing the women take charge. I also enjoyed that there was a plot outside of the romances. In fact I would have liked to have seen a bit more of the smoldering bits. I especially wanted to see how Shagal won his mate over…or was won over. Hard to tell on that one.

On the downside, to say the book head hops would be an understatement. It not only leaps unexpectedly from one person to the next, but from one scene to the next. One moment you are in Kara’s head on a transport shuttle, then the next you are with Tegan on the bridge of the ship, with nothing to indicate you have moved. I often had to reread passages or just keep going until I found a clue to reorient myself by. It was a challenge. Despite this I was pleasantly surprised by the book and look forward to reading more of Parker’s writing.

Boook Review of Koraly Dimitriadis’ Love and Fuck Poems

I won this book on Goodreads, and was intrigued by the title. Who has the gall to so title a book, I wondered. After reading it, I know.

Here is the description from the back:
Sexually repressed, separated Greek girl on a rampage. There’s no love here, just fucks. But is she fucking him or fucking herself? Love and Fuck poems. A 52 page story told through poetry. No fluff, no birds and trees, just honest, raw, poetry.

I think to fully appreciate this little book of prose I need to assess the whole package, because it is meant as a work of art as a whole. As you can see it is just a simple bi-fold pamphlet. It reminds me of a church program, or maybe someone’s personal moleskine as much as an actual book. But, I believe this is purposeful. The preface states quite clearly that Dimitriadis wanted it self-published to make a statement about art and the publishing industry, which would be pointless if it wasn’t easily identifiable as not meant the mass market. I like this aggressively indie mentality, though I do feel it is a little compromised by the fact that it is being translated into Greek (and presumably published) by a Cypriot publisher. Why not make the same statement there?

The personal journal feel continues throughout the book. Like the hearts on the cover, there are a number of doodles throughout the book and even a handwritten poem. Dimitriadis’ handwriting looks just like my little sisters BTW. This sense of the personal is the perfect environment for the poetry too. It is deeply personal, and some of them are painful to read. There is no shortage of grit. Many of the women in them (I won’t be so presumptuous as to assume they are all Dimitriadis herself) feel damaged, displaced and very post modern. But there are unexpected tender moments that remind the reader to breathe.

I don’t know a lot about poetry. The back of the book has a number of accolades from other awarded poets, so I trust that those who do know about the art know a good one when they read it. All I can go by is my reactions to these poems. I found about half of them sublime and the rest I neither liked nor disliked. I’m glad to have had the chance to read them, and recommend Love and Fuck Poems  for those who like in-your-face realism in their art. I’m a fantasy writer myself, so…