INTO THE NIGHT by Cornell Woolrich and Lawrence Block (Hard Case Crime)

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Cover art by Gregory Manchess

Into the Night
(Hard Case Crime #163)
By Cornell Woolrich and Lawrence Block
Titan Books — May 2024
ISBN: 9781803366999 — Paperback — 255 pp.

Depression and disengagement from her life has brought Madeline Chalmers to the point of suicidal contemplation. Within the dark silence of her room she takes her deceased father’s gun, puts it into her mouth, and pulls the trigger. But no shot results. Failing to kill herself, she slams the gun down, causing a bullet to now discharge, which shoots into the street, straight into a random woman, Starr Bartlett, passing by.

The experience reinvigorates Madeline into life, but through a lens of shame and guilt around the life of the innocent woman she has just accidentally killed. Madeline becomes obsessed with discovering who Starr was, locating her apartment, reaching out to her mother, and slowly inserting herself into the life that Starr might have had. Soon, Madeline sets her sights on revenge against the people from Starr’s past whose potential betrayals led to Starr walking along the street outside by Madeline’s room at just the wrong moment.

The stepping in to attempt completion of a life cut short serves as an apt plot for Into the Night, a novel begun by Cornell Woolrich, but filled in and finished by Lawrence Block some two decades after the author’s death. Recently released by Hard Case Crime after thirty-five years out of print, the novel serves as a wonderful gift for younger crime and noir fans who might not know of this book, or even perhaps the primary author Woolrich. Just as Madeline attempts to posthumously render unfinished justice for Starr, so too does Block (and now Hard Case Crime) try to rescue Wolrich’s final work for audiences.

As typical for a Hard Case Crime release, Into the Night excels at noir atmosphere and engaging storytelling. Though Madeline sets hereself on a seemingly linear and inevitable path, the novel manages to bring in surprises and turns that deviate the plot from a simplistic paint-by-numbers revenge. Additionally, the character of Madeline is psychologically very interesting. Even if Woolrich/Block don’t particularly dive into direct analysis of Madeline in overt or even symbolic ways, her point-of-view and decisions do give the reader a lot to consider if so inclined.

Yet, even if I enjoyed the premise and general execution of Into the Night, there are a few details of it that particularly bothered me. First, the absolutely random set up feels far too heavy on happenstance. Suspend a bit of disbelief and read on. But then the ending of the novel also comes across as relatively contrived and disappointing, reminding one of the walls broken in the opening chapter rather than all the interesting and immersive plot in between.

The other jarring aspect to Into the Night is regarding just how disturbing Madeline’s post-suicide trajectory psychology is. Madeline doesn’t really consider or even face the troubling aspects of what she is doing; characters who come to realize it themselves are even more accepting than one would expect. Madeline’s entire reason for still living becomes linked to Starr’s life and finding some sort of justice or amends. The brilliance of the novel lies in the consideration of whether this is really possible or not, but only indirectly. Where Woolrich and Block could delve deeper, they stick to pulp novel plot.

It may be an odd criticism to make of Into the Night, but that’s where I ultimately fall: It’s almst too good for itself. Written as absurdist high brow literature, it would probably be brilliant. But that core put into noir pulp makes for decent entertainment with some hints of inventiveness, which tantalizes at potentially being so much more.

I guess this is all the more apt, a parallel to what Starr’s life (and Madeline’s life) each could have been.

PLIABLE TRUTHS by Dayton Ward (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

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Cover art and design by unknown

Pliable Truths
(Star Trek: The Next Generation)
By Dayton Ward
Gallery Books (Simon & Schuster) — May 2024
ISBN: 9781668046418 — Paperback — 352 pp.

After a half-century of oppressive, violent occupation of the planet Bajor, the civilian government of the Cardassian Union has ordered a complete pull out of forces from the Bajoran system and its Terok Nor station post, and the release of all Bajorans held off-planet. The hastily scrambled new Bajoran government makes a controversial and contested request for assistance from the United Federation of Planets to mediate terms of the withdraw and potential compensation for decades of damage done.

Fresh from a tense mission that narrowly averted a renewed Federation – Cardassian war and the capture/torture of Captain Jean-Luc Picard during a clandestine mission within the Cardassian border, the USS Enterprise D is ordered to Bajor to oversee negotiations the former Terok Nor, now tenuously held under Bajoran control.

Talks begin, but become unsettled for the Bajorans by the arrival of former Terok Nor commander Gul Dukat, while Picard and Counselor Deanna Troi become disturbed by the arrival of the Cardassian responsible for the recent torture of Picard. Meanwhile, Lt. Commander Geordi LaForge, Commander Data, and Chief Miles O’Brien face the task of bringing the station back on line from sabotage done by the Cardassians in their departure. Dr. Crusher goes to lend medical aid at former camps, with Keiko O’Brien accomanying to help begin cataloging and protecting Bajoran flora. Shapeshifter Odo, the station security chief, turns his observational gaze onto the one Cardassian who has chosen to remain on the station: Elim Garak, an exile who has swirls of rumor and intrigue surrounding him.

Complicating matters even further, the Enterprise intercepts a coded communication from within Cardassian space that Ensign Ro recognizes from her youth in the Bajoran Resistance. The decoded message from her old, vanished friend reveals a hidden Cardassian military program on an unknown planet, and a group of Barjoran slaves who are about to be executed to guard the secret.

The crew of the Enterprise must find a way to prevent an interstellar incident with a former enemy while guiding Cardassian – Bajoran relations in a productive way that doesn’t interfere with Bajoran autonomy.

While Pliable Truths could conceivably be read, followed, and enjoyed by someone unfamiliar with Star Trek: The Next Generation and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, this is really a novel that could only be fully enjoyed by a dedicated fan. And dedicated fans should really enjoy this brief period of Trek history that hasn’t been directly fleshed out before.

Pliable Truths is set right between the sixth season “Chain of Command” two-parter of Star Trek: The Next Generation (aired 14th and 21st December 1992) and the debut of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, “Emissary”, aired two weeks later on 4th January 1993.

Dayton Ward does a fantastic job and writing a contained plot that works on its own within the broader context of the two Star Trek series, while also balancing significant time and depth between a large cast of characters. This shouldn’t be surprising to any regular reader of Star Trek novels in the last years, who should be already familiar with Ward. He maintains internal consistency with events depicted in the television shows (such as by keeping Worf on the Enterprise to prevent him from meeting Odo and seeing the station prematurely, etc.

The most significant new contribution of Pliable Truths would be in the details of the transition between Cardassian-occupied Bajor/Terok Nor and independent Bajor with the Federation officially taking over station control in partnership as Deep Space Nine. However, nothing new is really contributed in terms of character growth and probing of personalities that isn’t already covered within the series. That isn’t to say it isn’t still enjoyable to read the story that delves into trauma faced by Picard, Trois’ ability to guide, Dukat’s sliminess, Garak’s wit, and so on.

The one element regarding ‘character’ I don’t recall seeing before is found in Ward’s scenes written featuring Dr. Crusher. Her visit to Bajor brings to mind memories of her grandmother and life on Caldos IV, a world visited later in the seventh season of The Next Generation, the infamously poorly received “Sub Rosa”. It’s nice to see Ward attempt to try to provide some context and retro-foreshadowing for that episode and the relationship between the two women. But it also just keeps reminding the reader of a terrible episode that I would rather ignore.

The existence of the Picard series probably still complicates writing more Star Trek: The Next Generation stories set later in the timeline as the now non-canon run of novels had done. But, I’m also fine with reading more episodes set within the time of the run of the show and films. I also appreciated the return of character artwork on the cover of the book, something common decades ago when the novels were still numbered (and a better size… and easier to organize,) but which the more recent trade paperback books had abandoned.

Pliable Truths should be picked up by anyone who has enjoyed reading novels from The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine, even those who haven’t done so for years. You couldn’t find a better one to pick and start back up.

ONE HOUR OF FERVOR by Muriel Barbery (Translated by Alison Anderson)

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Cover art and design by Emanuele Ragnisco

One Hour of Fervor
(Une heure de ferveur)
(The Uenos Book 2)
By Muriel Barbery
Translated from the French by Alison Anderson
Europa Editions — January 2024
ISBN: 9798889660040 — Hardcover — 196 pp.

“Don’t ask me to explain it. Explanation is a Western disease.”

With One Hour of Fervor Muriel Barbery successfully renders a literary tableau of feeling and form, a meditation on friendship, family, and love – even amid tragedy and human distance. Beauty and meaning underlie Barbery’s prose on every page, but as the quote above from a character in the novel suggests, attempting to explain that beauty and meaning is a pointless endeavor. The point is not explanation, it is experience and personal resonance. Different readers will look at Barbery’s novel in different ways, with varying interpretation and diverse connections. But it is powerful, evocative literature, and the “precision” of Barbery’s writing as described in this novel’s official blurb does not lie.

For some time I’ve been meaning to read Barbery’s work. Her L’Élégance du hérisson gained international acclaim, and its translation into English (The Elegance of the Hedgehog) by Alison Anderson was met with similar celebratory recognition. I have a few of her novels on my shelf, both in the original French and translated into English. I just hadn’t gotten around to reading them – mostly due to the desire to read them in French first and the greater commitment in time/focus that would require. I’m glad I had the opportunity to review this new translation from Europa as it forced me to finally read Barbery, and I am now eager to dive into another.

Alison Anderson again translates Barbery’s Une heure de ferveur here. I don’t own the original French text so I can’t comment specifically on the translation here, but my sense just from reading the English and doing a bit of research leads me to believe One Hour of Fervor is a stunning accomplishment of translation. And it couldn’t have been easy. As just noted above, Barbery is precise on her use of words. Always. There are words in One Hour of Fervor that repeat, such as the word “Elsewhere,” and that has a huge significance. But one must then be careful not to repeat a specific word within relative proximity. Yet, there may not always be options in English for two separate mots in French. And there are of course certainly phrases that just don’t translate exactly. Putting in an equivalent may get an idea across, but destroy the form of the language to achieve meaning.

And there is the crux of why One Hour of Fervor must have been a hell of a challenge in translating. The novel is about the dichotomy of form and meaning, the surface and the deep. They must balance, yet each exists distinctly. This holds true within the language itself, and is represented in the French/Japanese cross-cultural nature of the novel’s setting and characters. And it is built into the philosophies of the characters, governing their world view, their actions, and their relationships.

The plot of the novel follows Haru Ueno, an art dealer who is early described as a “seeker of form.” Haru befriends Keisuke Shibata, an artist and poet who frequents the Shinnyo-do (a sort of temple to the arts) of Tomoo Hasegawa, a producer of art documentaries who serves as host for parties that celebrate saké, art, and a joie de vivre. Where Tomoo plays the role of guardian, Keisuke serves as the ferry-man. At one of the parties, Haru meets Maud, a Frenchwoman whose beauty stuns him into a fog. Their brief relationship ends with Maud becoming pregnant, but leaving Japan and returning to France. When Haru learns of the pregnancy, Maud explains to him that she will kill herself if he tries to make contact with their lives.

This rather extreme, threatening, and troublesome response from Maud comes without rationale beyond that she suffers from mental issues, but it devastates Haru. He nonetheless chooses to honor her wishes, but hires a private investigator to keep watch on this daughter whose life he cannot be a part of, receiving regular updates on her life and trying to love her from afar. Also distant from his parents, Haru finds the comforts of family amid his friends, who likewise suffer from disruption in their genetic roots, including Keisuke whose wife and children come to tragic ends. “Fate is killing all our branches.” The novel’s title stems from this theme and the character’s reaction to their familial fates: “…if life has only one hour of fervor left to offer me, I want us to spend it together.” Lineages become forged through friendship and distance when other options of being close to their beloved are closed to them.

The cover of the novel references a recurring story, first told by Haru to Maud based on one he has been told by Keisuke:

“In and around the Heian period, in the year one thousand of your calendar,” he says, “the dawns were stunningly beautiful. In the depths of the heavens, sprays of purple flowers were withering. Sometimes huge birds were caught in this burning light. At the imperial court there lived a lady, confined to her quarters. Her nobility had sealed her fate as a captive, and even the little garden adjacent to her room was forbidden to her. But to contemplate the dawn, she knelt on the wood of the outside veranda, and every morning since the New Year, a fox cub had stolen into the garden.”

Haru falls silent.

“And?” says the Frenchwoman.

“A heavy rain began to fall, lasting until the spring, and the lady begged her new friend to come and shelter with her under the roof of the veranda by the garden, where there were only a few winter camellias and a maple tree. There, they became acquainted, in silence, but then, once they’d invented a shared language, to each other they said only the names of the dead.”

Haru falls silent, and this time she doesn’t say anything.”

Later in the novel a character explains: “The fox says whatever you want him to say.” Yet in the next moment: “The fox is the key.” I have my theories and ideas surrounding all this, but One Hour of Fervor makes clear that one should find their own, and that any precise explanation is misunderstanding.

Another theme I found interesting in the novel was that when the government fails, people help one another. This comes up in the novel at least twice, and a particular passage gets repeated verbatim. Again such repetition is clearly for a reason. One of those instances involves the Fukushima disaster, with the observation regarding atoms that “Nothing is less hidden than what is invisible.” Having watched Godzilla Minus One relatively recently, I was immediately struck how this theme and commentary appears in both Barbery’s writing as observation of Japanese society and culture and this Japanese film.

Yet, I write this review wanting to look deeply into One Hour of Fervor for all this meaning and import, despite the words of Keisuke to his friend Haru: “You’re blind, because you only look… You must learn not to look.” Part of reading this novel is learning not to look, but just to read, letting the feelings and humanity of it all wash over. It’s very worth doing so.

NOTE: One Hour of Fervor is technically the second book in The Uenos series. The first novel, A Single Rose, chronicles Haru’s daughter and her eventual discovery of who her father is. This novel therefore is both prequel and runs parallel in parts to Barbery’s previous. Nonetheless, the novel can be well appreciated as a stand-alone, particularly as plot is not the primary focus for literature such as this.

THE GRIMMER by Naben Ruthnum

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Cover art and design by Unknown

The Grimmer
By Naben Ruthnum
ECW Press — September 2023
ISBN: 9781770417045 — Paperback — 256 pp.

My expectations were quite high for The Grimmer by Naben Ruthnum. The synopsis had me hooked, and the gothic horror genre is easily my favorite. And then there is the marketing comparisons to John Bellairs, a beloved author of mine whose YA gothic horror/mysteries I adore (along with the stories finished or written originally by Brad Strickland with Bellairs’ characters.)

[An aside as I write this review… I just went to look up when the last book by Strickland in the Bellairsverse came out – to mention how long the drought has been in filling this sub-genre itch for me. Until recently, the answer was 2006. But, I now see there’s one that Strickland just released in 2023 through Open Road Media?! OK, I’ll have to look into that promisingly great news later on…]

But, suffice it to say I’ve longed for something akin to Bellairs style, themes, and M.R. Jamesesque spooks within YA, or even adult, horror lit. Now I know to take all marketing comparisons with a huge grain of salt. I didn’t expect The Grimmer to be exactly like Bellairs, but I looked strongly forward to it having strong resemblances sufficient to make the read filled with haunting and joy. Reading that Ruthnum is a fan of Bellairs and that Bellairs’ novels helped influence Ruthnum’s work gave me hope.

Perhaps my expectations were too high in these regards. While I didn’t particularly dislike The Grimmer, I also never felt any magic from it. Rather than enthralling me, it seemed to resist my attempts at attention. By the time I could see where the story and characters were heading, I kept hoping for something more, some frisson or empathetic engagement with the characters that would pick things up some for me. But that didn’t ever arrive. Despite my disappointment on how average The Grimmer felt for me, I still think it’s worthwhile and important to point out the elements that did connect some with me, and try to sell it to readers who might appreciate it more than I.

Fifteen-year-old Indian-Canadian Vish returns to his hometown from boarding school, dreading having to face the looks and talk that spread through town about difficulties in his family, namely his father’s drug addiction and recent treatment in rehab. Vish would rather keep to himself and his solitary hobbies, listening to metal music and reading. Seeking material for the latter, he visits the town’s small bookstore, Greycat Books, which happens to be owned by one of the town’s few other Brown citizens, Agastya, a man dealing with another form of familial grief: the death of his wife.

At the bookstore Vish awkwardly meets Gisela, a girl around his age, with goth style, who works there. Vish finds himself equally attracted to and baffled by the enigmatic Gisela, but his bookstore visit gets even more life-changing with the arrival of a sinister pale man with decaying flesh, who assumes Vish is related to the bookstore owner Agastya solely based on their shared skin pigmentation. The situation escalates into an altercation filled with threats and talk of magic and the occult.

Gradually, Agastya and Gisela fill Vish in on the knowledge of what the man seeks, and how they (along with Agastya’s deceased wife) have inherited responsibilities in protecting the world and stopping the villain from the power he seeks. And while Vish may not actually be related to Agastya and his deceased wife, his destiny – along with Gisela’s – are tied together with them to stand against interdimensional evils.

The over-the-top, sneeringly evil antagonist of The Grimmer is probably what reminded me most of an element from Bellairs’ style. He makes periodic creepy visitations to threaten Vish and/or Gisela, leading up to the eventual confrontation where the protagonist must face and defeat him. As such, it’s the part of The Grimmer that I enjoyed the most.

However, Ruthnum’s novel goes in different directions with the nature of the threat and the nature of magic from the traditional Bellairs or gothic ghost stories that inspired him. The evil here tends more toward the realms of cosmic horror than classic gothic, particularly with its interdimensional monsters and the magic system involved.

Magic in The Grimmer has its basis in the language of complex mathematics and physics (science) moreso than in the arts through the classic languages of Latin or Greek (or invented arcane languages.) This is not inherently a problem, and I like the concept. However, its execution in the novel comes across as somewhat dry and too detailed, particularly for something YA. But it’s also not detailed enough to really make complete sense of how it works, so the bits of detail that are there aren’t necessarily helpful or needed for readers. Fans of mathematics would probably appreciate this part of the novel more than I did.

Gisela has the greatest magical abilities of the characters, due to her intelligence and adeptness at math, a powerful witch with confidence and personality. She was my favorite character in the novel and I might have enjoyed it more if she were the primary protagonist of The Grimmer. The only aspects of her character that I wished weren’t there dealt with her exact nature and her past. They make Gisela not exactly a teenage human, and thus less relatable. Similarly, Vish’s predestined, and foretold, link to the group makes these young adults too special and unique. The marketing for The Grimmer also calls attention to it having Stranger Things vibes, and perhaps this bears the closest to that – particularly that show’s character of Eleven – pulling it away from the ‘ordinary’ and relatively younger tweens found in Bellairs’ stories.

YA fiction like this requires adults who have roles in mentoring and providing friendship and support to the younger protagonists, yet somehow can be conceivably absent enough to allow the protagonists to become seriously threatened and overcome the danger (with a bit of help from the adults at the last minute.) This is where I felt the most disappointment with The Grimmer, in the character of Agastya. He comes across as not that different from the emotional, mental, and leadership capabilities of the teens and the character mostly serves as an informational intermediary from his deceased wife to Gisela and Vish. With Gisela taking on a lot of the ‘adult’ responsibility and capabilities herself (plus her being more than she physically appears at first) makes Agastya rather superfluous. He never manages to be endearing like an adult in Bellairs stories, or the major adults in Stranger Things, for example.

With so much of this review being focused on my personal disappointment in aspects, I could easily see others enjoying the novel completely without a similar reaction. What might interest prospective readers of The Grimmer are the themes that it tackles. And in these Ruthnum does a superior job to Bellairs (simply by virtue of being more modern.) [Though Strickland’s entries in the Bellairsverse do also improve this.] The Grimmer delves into ‘darker’ themes of racism, addiction, and grief (as its official summary blurb accurately mentions) for its characters to deal with and navigate. It’s suitable for the mid-teen Vish and supporting cast, and Ruthnum includes them all effectively without ever becoming preachy or overbearing.

Those looking for YA cosmic horror with diversity and complex modern themes will likely enjoy The Grimmer, but those who seek classically gothic elements may be disappointed some similar to me. Anyone looking for a good use of math in fantasy/horror should particularly check the novel out.

One final element of the novel that I greatly appreciated is the cover art. Although searching awhile online, I was unable to find any attribution for the cover art or design.

New Release News: STAR PATTERN TRAVELLER by Joyce Chng

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YA science fiction author Joyce Chng has been a contributor to Skiffy & Fanty in the past, and she has a new book just out in the start of February that I wanted to put on people’s radars. She’s based in Singapore, and I seem to recall some of her past releases have been harder to obtain internationally due to publication rights and distributions. I’ve been particularly looking forward to this one because it features a xenobiologist, which is right up my alley. I had preordered an ecopy of it (before I realized I could’ve gotten it in print, which would be much better) but I haven’t gotten to read it yet. Whenever I do I hope to get a review up here, but in the meantime, check this out:

When Maya Chang crash-lands on a planet little does she know that her life would totally change. For the Mahar, the arrival of the star pattern traveller causes an upheaval in their world. The clash and eventual meeting of two species and two cultures has far-reaching consequences.

A brief excerpt from the story is available on Joyce Chng’s Patreon page. And you can find out more about her work at her blog pages.

SHIGIDI AND THE BRASS HEAD OF OBALUFON by Wole Talabi

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Cover art and design by Jim Tierney.

Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon
By Wole Talabi
DAW Books — August 2023
ISBN: 9780756418267 — Hardcover — 320 pp.

We continue today in a cluster of reviews covering recent novels that were featured in Skiffy & Fanty podcast interviews, or my colleagues got to review for the blog. I read Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon both out of great interest, and in case I was needed for an interview with Wole Talabi. That interview ended up being handled by Shaun and Trish, and you can listen to it here.

Talabi’s novel follows two protagonists through the night of a heist and its aftermath, along with their histories and what brought them together. Shigidi is a disgruntled Yoruba nightmare god formerly working for the Orisha spirit company. He has gone freelance from his position through his association with Nneoma, a succubus. In a relationship combining business and sex, Shigidi has fallen for Nneoma, but she is more reticent to admit she’s too in love. That is until the start of the novel, tearing through the roughly present-day streets of London (spirit-side) in a getaway vehicle driven by Aleister Crowley, pursued by a demon-driven chariot, with Shigidi injured and at the brink of death.

That’s right, the start of the novel. Talabi drops the reader right into the chaos and then steps back, and forward, and across, shifting through time and around the world. Chapter headings provide the reader with navigation through it all, but it can still make the novel feel disjointed, at least until one becomes accustomed to the blueprints of how this story is being told. It’s a noir heist, with Shigidi and Nneoma being coerced by an older, more powerful deity named Olurun to steal the titular artifact from the British Museum and its magical, spiritual protections there. But, it’s also a story about politics and economics, power and control, within the broad mythological metaphor of the Yoruba supernatural. And it’s also an erotic thriller, with the sexuality of Nneoma and her relationship with Shigidi at the fore. Talabi reveals what each of these characters were like (and what they were doing) before they ever met, how their motivations have evolved together up to that moment of the heist, and what that experience of crisis reveals to them.

Talabi does a fantastic job at balancing the different genre elements of the novel, making Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon like a diverse mashup of American Gods, Indiana Jones, Wall Street, and Bound within the realms of Nigerian mythology. Well not exactly – but you get the idea, it has a lot. I wasn’t as enthusiastic as Shaun and Trish seemed to be over the novel, particularly when I first began it. It took awhile for the construction and style of the novel to grow on me. And I don’t know as I ever became fully comfortable with the sexuality in the novel, mostly due to the inherent difficulties that are associated with what a succubus is or does, and the patriarchal origin of the creature’s mythology. Talabi does as best as one could with such a character, certainly making her independent and powerfully in control, providing some diverse representation in sexuality. But Nneoma remains tied to being defined as a sexual being. I can see how some readers might be offput by their relationship and its depictions completely, but I found it instead to be interestingly complex and thought provoking, with both elements that seemed noble and perhaps problematic.

Most of the novel takes place in either Lagos or in London, but scenes span across many other locales. Talabi succeeds well in making each of these settings come alive with details and vivacity to match the pace of the story. Building them either from direct experience or executed research, these diverse setting add a lot of verisimilitude to the otherwise mythological, supernatural story. The historical character of Crowley – given an unnatural extension to his lifespan after a run-in with Nneoma – also provides a nice touch to the novel in different regards. First there is the link to historical detail of reality to balance the fantastic. But, Talabi also uses the character to probe into matters of colonialism, changing social mores and practices, and the pursuit of power.

The one overriding theme of Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon probably is simply that of the balance and exercise of power, within institutions, relationships, and as the selfishly personal. Can power really be shared? What determines sacrifices of power and autonomy in partnerships? What power do companies have over their workers? What power do the workers have that the company tries to make them forget?

Talabi doesn’t seem to commit to any perfect answer for any of these, at any level. Again, the message seems to be that life is complex, full of chaos, right and wrong. It’s a mess, even for deities and related spirits. They, like we, try to make the best of it and find purpose, find happiness. And for Shigidi and Nneoma, this adventure reinforces that is in partnership together, even if no partnership is really perfect.

The interview with Talabi by Shaun and Trish also talks about the interesting casting of religion as a corporate, capitalistic endeavor, which is also a very fascinating theme in the novel that Talabi puts out there, but doesn’t necessarily overtly preach upon with any goal or message behind. While, he also touches on aspects of colonialism, I would love for future novels set in this world and with these characters to delve deeper into that, particularly in relation to the Spirit side of things. I’m imagining there will be more novels to come for this, at least. Whether there are or not, Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon is a novel that I would describe as cinematic, and its adaptation into a film or series is something I could easily envision happening and finding success.

In the meantime, I have the upcoming SF short story collection by Talabi (Convergence Problems) on deck to read and review, and I’m looking forward to that, so look into that as well if you haven’t already heard of it, and you should find a review up for it here soon.

ABENI’S SONG by P. Djèlí Clark

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Cover art by Michael Machira Mwang. Cover Design by Lesley Worrell.

Abeni’s Song
By P. Djèlí Clark
Starscape (Tor) — July 2023
ISBN: 9781250825827 — Hardcover — 326 pp.

If you don’t already know this, P. Djèlí Clark is a fantastic storyteller. His fiction is typically richly layered with captivating characters, compelling plots, and evocatively descriptive prose that stimulates a reader’s imagination and senses. His work also explores themes that touch upon important issues of the present day and historical past, without being heavy-handed or overly literal. His recent novel Abeni’s Song is no different. Any of Clark’s existing fans would certainly enjoy this, if they haven’t already. But for anyone unfamiliar with Clark’s work, the novel represents a good entry point for all ages.

Abeni’s Song has been marketed for middle grade readers, but it could equally be marketed toward YA. Honestly, I don’t know the exact differences, I was reading Stephen King and Tom Clancy at the start of middle school. But from my observations of current trends and norms, Abeni’s Song works as middle grade in terms of writing, but themes and its length could verge more toward YA. Regardless, I do feel it could be enjoyed and appreciated on enough levels for either audience group. It’s also true that the novel would work successfully for the adult reader as well, including those who don’t normally read YA. While Abeni’s Song has a young protagonist, she is exceptionally mature in her thinking and actions overall. And when the novel does touch on emotions or growth that would be more familiar and relevant to a teen or tween, they never come across awkwardly or bothersome if one is unaccustomed to reading a younger protagonist.

I originally read Abeni’s Song just prior to its release last summer, in preparation for a Skiffy & Fanty podcast interview with Clark that I took part in. That discussion can be found here. I began the podcast episode with the tagline: “Who’s to blame for the hate that hate made”, a quote from Clark in relation to a theme in his novella Ring Shout. Clark also probes into this theme in Abeni’s Song, but moreso (I felt) into the themes of acceptance in friendship, family, or community. As would be typical for many middle grade/YA novels, it’s also a coming-of-age journey. A typical trope for fantasy, Clark was admittedly inspired by his own experiences with classics in the genre like the works of L’Engle and Lewis, and I also could see shades of The Wizard of Oz here. Not surprisingly, Clark takes elements of these sorts of adventures but makes them something wholly his own, along with mixing in parts of West African history, lore, and mythology.

The titular Abeni starts the novel on a momentous Harvest Festival day when joy and expectation soon turn to disaster and complete loss. To quote the official synopsis:

“Warriors with burning blades storm the village. A man with a cursed flute plays an impossibly alluring song. And everyone Abeni has ever known and loved is captured and marched toward far-off ghost ships set for even more distant lands.

But not Abeni.

Abeni is magically whisked away by [an] old woman. In the forest, Abeni begins her unwanted magical apprenticeship, her journey to escape the witch, and her impossible mission to bring her people home.”

The old woman/witch appeared in Abeni’s village with warnings of this disaster coming, but they weren’t heeded. Similarly, Abeni’s mistrust of the old woman and young rebellious nature cause Abeni to at first resist the unwanted and uncomfortable wisdom that her elder attempts to impart. Only slowly does Abeni began to not just learn, but to appreciate and care for the woman who has saved her, and to accept the responsibility that has been put upon her. As awful and unfair a burden that it is. Helping Abeni on her magical journey are several local spirits. Though they fail or disappoint each other, contrast in their personalities and temperaments, or hold secrets from one another, the group repeatedly learn to come together cohesively to support and forgive one another. To try to do better toward their common goals, not just the immediate or more selfish objectives that drive them.

The antagonists of the novel who directly interact with Abeni and her group are former ‘innocents’ who have been warped by the evil magic of the major controlling antagonist that largely exists ‘off-screen’. It is this aspect of Abeni’s Song that directly addresses that “hate that hate makes” theme, as the protagonists strive to not just defeat those standing in opposition, but save them from the evil situations they have fallen into, and set them onto a path of reconciliation and atonement. The one downside to this aspect is that the true villain of the novel isn’t around to really delve into the totality of their nature and objectives. Presumably that villain, and the associated ghost ships, might make more direct appearances in future novels of the series.

Those ghost ships and their role in the novel work as an obvious reference to the slave trade in our reality, but more metaphorically than literal. Similarly, the villain’s kidnapping of others, their control, and their forced labor in mining for magical geology immediately brings to mind the diamond industry. Younger readers will get the message, even if not directly recognizing historical and present-day equivalents that adult readers will appreciate.

For all the darkness of its plot and themes, and the heavy nature of Abeni’s predicament, the weight of her responsibility, Abeni’s Song is equally full of humor and wistful moments of magical beauty. These particularly shine in the loving friendship that develops between the characters even amid their differences. Another wonderful note to the novel (bad pun intended) would be Clark’s working of music into the magical world building. Clark appreciates and sees the power of music in the world, how it can drive emotions and actions both for good or for bad, and the effects it can have on the brain and soul to damage or heal.

I quickly got caught up in the world of Abeni’s Song, its magic and its music. I’m ready for its sequels and returning to the characters I’ve grown to adore.

WHERE PEACE IS LOST by Valerie Valdes

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Cover art by Serena Malyon. Cover Design by Owen Corrigan

Where Peace is Lost
By Valerie Valdes
Harper Voyager Books — August 2023
ISBN: 9780063085930 — Paperback — 400 pp.

“Where peace is lost, may we find it.”

Kelana Gardavros (Kel Garda) is one of the last surviving members of a warrior order that stood up to the Pale Empire. Now, the former Knight of the First Sword is a refugee living a quiet and peaceful exile among a simple people in an isolated star system, keeping her past secret, her weapons and armor literally buried in the soil of Loth. Kel’s isolated quiet breaks with the unexpected reactivation of a Pale Empire mobile weapon that threatens the planet and its life. Mysteriously, and perhaps too conveniently, two strangers, Savvy and Dare, arrive soon after offering to turn off the Demolisher, for a price. Suspicious, Kel joins them to help as a guide, along with a young native villager named Lunna, who is eager for an adventure. Kel must balance maintaining her secret for personal safety with the needs of the populace, the threat of this war machine, dangers of predators and bandits, Lunna’s well-being, the uncertain motives/history of Savvy and Dare, and forces of an Empire that still hunt her.

Any fans of Star Wars should appreciate and enjoy Valerie Valdes’ Where Peace is Lost. Consider the paragraph synopsis above and just insert the word “Jedi” in there before “Knight.” This novel matches the tone and general space fantasy emphases of the Star Wars universe, and readers of the canon novels for that universe should not miss Where Peace is Lost. This novel leads me to think Valdes would pen a killer official Star Wars story, but in some respects this is even better, avoiding the convoluted web of continuity and forced inclusion of shared recurring characters or dictation of plot points.

Where Peace is Lost starts mid-action, with Kel fighting control of a rampaging native wild beast, a thematic precursor to the marauding Pale war machine that is about to activate. Valdes crafts the novel from here to its conclusion with excellent cinematic style pacing. As just discussed, there is a familiarity to the set up for this space opera, but there is also familiarity in how it proceeds and the conclusion that ultimately lands. Where Peace is Lost is therefore a read that will appease those looking for a good adventure with likable characters and some thematic emotional complexity, who won’t be put off by some predictability or foregone conclusion of the protagonists’ success. The novel also nicely scratches any reader itches for a found family trope that includes shadowy, roguish characters, with secrets, who really have hearts of gold.

With all these facets that aim purely for pleasure reading within the space opera genre, Valdes succeeds at making Where Peace is Lost work far above the average for similar books. She hits all the notes with compelling prose, engaging characters, and just enough secrets and developments playing between the characters and events to keep the plot interesting. Additionally, underneath the simple surface pleasure of well-written space opera entertainment lies that nice hint of moral complexity in what Kel must choose to do, and the sometimes conflicting realities of her past and present. Again, like the Jedi, Kel’s order may include warriors, but they view violence as only a last resort, and a failure at resolving things without need of its invocation. For all that the Star Wars universe has played with that theme, Valdes dives into it here more convincingly and satisfyingly.

Although not marketed or indicated anywhere as the first in a series, the story and universe of Where Peace is Lost could easily continue through sequels that would be welcomed by fans. Yet, it also works great as a standalone work that doesn’t need more, and Valdes can clearly go for writing in more original veins that would still pull that fanbase won with Where Peace is Lost.

Though I read the novel back just prior to its release, I’m only getting to reviewing it now because of two reasons. One is simple catch-up. The other is that my colleague Trish reviewed it for Skiffy & Fanty back then and I didn’t want to double with that so soon. If you haven’t read her review, it can be found here for some additional perspective and points I didn’t get to raising.

GODKILLER by Hannah Kaner

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Cover art by Tom Roberts

Godkiller
(Fallen Gods #1)
By Hannah Kaner
Harper Voyager Books — January 2023
ISBN: 9780008521462 — Hardcover — 304 pp.

The first thing to impact a reader of Hannah Kaner’s debut novel Godkiller will likely be the gorgeous cover art by Tom Roberts. If this doesn’t already get the expectations and imagination flowing, then the opening prologue should be the needed hook. Set fifteen years prior to the main plot of the novel, the prologue immediately establishes Kaner’s keen ability to write engaging prose:

“Her father fell in love with a god of the sea.

The god’s name was Osidisen, and her parents named Kissen and her brothers in honour of his attention: Tidean, ‘on the tide’; Lunsen, ‘moon on water’; Mellsenro, ‘the rolling rocks’. And, finally, Kissenna, ‘born on the love of the sea’. Osidisen filled their nets with fish, taught them when to ride a storm and when to hide, and brought them safe home with their catch each day. Kissen and her family grew up in the sea’s favour.

But the sea god didn’t bring fortune to the lands of Talicia. Eventually, the villages on the hills were enticed by a god of fire, Hseth, and her promises of riches.”

A mob of villagers arrive at Kissen’s home to sacrifice her entire family for the honor and affection of their new god. Despite her father’s devotion, the sea god does nothing to save him or his family, at least not for free. Only through her father’s direct sacrifice to Osidisen does Kissen’s life become spared, but with the added cost of one of her legs.

The text of the entire prologue may be read online at Tor.com. It starts the epic fantasy series with loads of potential and very effectively pulls at the emotions. It holds broad appeal for most fantasy readers, regardless if one is mostly a fan of world-building, phrases and plots that make you sigh in their devastating beauty, or characters who survive a tragedy, changed and ready to change the world.

How Godkiller then proceeds for a reader will be dependent on which of those elements (or others) one is looking for as most important in an epic fantasy novel. For me, I enjoyed it overall and would be happy to read its soon-to-be-released sequel Sunbringer (March 2024.) But, I also wouldn’t rate the novel far above an average epic fantasy read; I wouldn’t swoon over it or pick it as a brilliant best read of the year. Yet, I also can understand anyone who does feel that way about Kaner’s novel.

The story proper begins with the now adult Kissen serving as a state-sanctioned Godkiller for a newly ascended king who has outlawed worship of deities as in days prior. Beyond learning to fully function with a missing leg, Kissen also has had to adapt to move past the trauma of her past, emotions she psychologically funnels into her work. But then, Kissen comes across a mysterious young girl named Inara, daughter of a noble, and like Kissen, she’s another survivor. Inara comes to Kissen with an odd problem. Her life has been seemingly inextricably bound with a diminutive god of white lies, Skediceth (Skedi), who enigmatically does not seem to operate by Kissen’s expectations for deities. The trio soon converge with Elogast (Elo), a retired knight (turned baker) with historical personal and professional connections to the King. Elo has been put on his own deity-related quest, one that involves a closely guarded royal secret.

Using a team of point-of-view protagonists, Kaner sets up a intricately woven (but not overly complex) epic fantasy plot that should particularly delight readers who enjoy imperfect, yet eminently likeable, characters who start off wary of one another and gradually cultivate acceptance, friendship, and love as loyal cadre of overlapping purpose despite different philosophies and hidden goals.

But this firm epic fantasy foundation that will delight some, could also lead others to respond with waning interest. As much as I loved the characters, especially Inara and Skedi, I also began to find their collective journey to become a bit tedious in predictability – or conventionality to epic fantasy tropes. Similarly, the plot moves forward in ways that I found too blatantly contrived. In contrast to the prologue, the novel becomes focused primarily on this group of characters and their quests rather than the world-as-a-whole and its changed relationships between mortals and deities. And the relationships between the characters proceed in expected ways to pull at the emotions of readers who gravitate toward happy, even cutesy, developments to make everyone likable, even amid some darkness, scars, and mistrust. The basic foundations of Godkiller‘s set up also bear similarities to Andrzej Sapkowski’s The Witcher novels and media adaptations. It’s not a copy or imitation though.

Regardless of how much one responds to this focus and character development in Godkiller, one success of the novel should be apparent to all: it’s diverse and well-rendered representation. Surely that’s also a characteristic that might put off some readers, but I have no sympathy or respect for that. Kaner integrates bisexuality, mental illness, and disabilities of varying forms seamlessly into the novel. As an amputee with a prosthetic leg, Kissen embodies something that really should be far more common in epic fantasy, if you think about it.

Having established the characters and formed their connections, I am sure that subsequent novels in the series will add complications and threats to the companions and their diverse goals. Even though it may use tropes and developments in expected ways, I am curious to see what happens in the future of these diversely likable people, and to learn more about the world and history of the Fallen Gods setting. I’m hoping some more focus could turn toward the world-building and larger scale picture – including more royal intrigues.

THE BLUE, BEAUTIFUL WORLD by Karen Lord

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Cover Design by Regina Flath

The Blue, Beautiful World
(Cygnus Beta Series #3)
By Karen Lord
Del Rey Books — August 2023
ISBN: 9780593598436 — Hardcover — 256 pp.

Depending on one’s point of view or reading personality, Karen Lord’s The Blue, Beautiful World could be considered a stand-alone novel within here Cygnus Beta universe of stories, or a more firmly-linked sequel of a series, following The Best of All Possible Worlds (2013) and The Galaxy Game (2015.) While the second and recent third novel of Cygnus Beta are fully comprehensible and enjoyable as isolated works, world-building elements, reappearing characters, and shared themes throughout the series would make each novel easier to unravel on their own and form an appreciation for connections between the parts of the overarching work.

I previously reviewed The Galaxy Game here with a similar overall conclusion, having never read the first Cygnus Beta novel. Looking back at it now, I’m reminded that I really do need to just read the entire series from the start. With some experience of Lord’s novels under my belt, I began The Blue, Beautiful World with more familiarity of what to expect in terms of Lord’s style. And I ended up being able to enjoy and appreciate it more than I had The Galaxy Game. Yet, I know I still haven’t been able to unpack all that there is in the novel or experience the pleasure of the plot’s progression as I likely would by starting at the beginning of the series. Additionally, I’ll note that I’ve now read both of Lord’s novels as ebooks, an experience I’ve found to interfere with my personal ability to engage with a work. Looking back on things I’ve read and reviewed, I find myself picking up on the writing and getting excited about a novel far more frequently with physical books than ebooks.

The ebook ARC version of The Blue, Beautiful World came to me in preparation for an interview with Karen Lord for the Skiffy & Fanty podcast. I obtained and read the novel on a relatively quick time line to be an alternate for the podcast recording, which ultimately Brandon O’Brien and Shaun Duke were able to do. That’s for the best, because they did a stellar job, taking part in a fascinating conversation with Lord about her latest novel and work as a whole. If you end up still being undecided on The Blue, Beautiful World – or starting off the series at its start – do give this interview a general listen. For those who may have already read the novel, there’s some good content to get you thinking more deeply about that experience.

OK – After all this preamble, what is The Blue, Beautiful World actually about and what is the nature of Karen Lord’s writing?

Human civilization continues Earth and the life upon it on a course of profound change, reaching ever closer to a tipping point where the collective, contradictory mix of activism, panic, and indifference will push things into a vastly different reality for better or worse. Adding complexity to this, humanoid life exists on planets orbiting stars relatively close to our Sol, and representatives of these are looking to make official first contact with Earth. Those on Earth remaining in power with knowledge of alien civilization existence and potential influence on Earth stand in tension with the varying goals and interests of those aliens for our planet.

The Blue, Beautiful World begins after a short prologue by introducing Owen, a pop music star whose charisma – and other abilities – command enormous attention and influence over his legions of worldwide fans. Though not explicitly stated, the reader can quickly make the connection of Owen to the exchanges of the prologue set on another planet. While the previous Cygnus Beta novels have been set off-Earth, this one remains on our planet, as its title suggests. Owen becomes involved with a group of similar celebrity influencers and visioneers seeking to prepare humanity for official first contact in all its implications and potential consequences. To say more of the plot would be complicated, and would be detrimental to the key component of Lord’s writing that demands readers to construct things from fragmentary revelation.

Like its predecessors, The Blue, Beautiful World deals with large scale epic events but on a largely intimate level of individual human/humanoid relationships. Also, like those prior entries, it’s an unconventional approach to the space opera genre that is built on suddenly shifting perspectives, focus, and twists of reader expectations. This could be immensely rewarding for certain kinds of readers, and exceptionally frustrating for others. Just as the reader starts becoming familiar with Owen and his wonderfully compelling manager Noriko, the first part of the novel ends and Lord abruptly shifts things in setting and characters, requiring readers to completely reset footing and figure out how what is happening and where connections lie. While focusing intently on the perspectives and interactions among the relatively large cast, Lord conveys many large scale developments to the overall plot briefly, almost as if in passing.

As Lord describes in her interview with Skiffy & Fanty in response to Shaun’s remark over how much The Blue, Beautiful World threw him for a loop, her writing style specifically aims to leave some things unsaid, some things unexplained, because that is how reality is. We’re all here struggling to figure out the universe, and our place it. Her characters and her novels are in that same place. Like us, they are trying to figure out if they are the protagonist of their story or if someone else is, she explains. As a result, Owen is kind of the protagonist of the novel, at least the first part – though maybe it’s more Noriko – then others join in vying for that role.

To summarize the significance of this for a perspective reader, The Blue Beautiful World is a well-written novel of complexity and intelligence, but it’s not a well-written space opera comfort read. It’s demanding. Lord writes beautifully, in that her sentences are rich and evocative, and they can be enjoyed at just that level. But if the reader just starts getting confused regarding the plot or thrown off by shifts in perspective, that beauty can only hold attention so long. But if the reader is down for careful reading, reflection, and appreciation of the novel’s realism, there are few other contenders out there to its power.

As opposed to my read of The Galaxy Game many years back, there were several elements to The Blue, Beautiful World that captured and held my interest even while wishing for a little more constancy and familiarity to keep my bearings. As with the other books of Cygnus Beta, this novel addresses the theme of power, of looking at who gets to make decisions for the planet and its inhabitants. It involves the politics of diplomacy more than I recall from the previous novel, and I enjoyed those threads, particuarly relevant to the first-contact trope of space opera. Adding into that mix, Lord includes a fantastic bit in here regarding how those with vested interest in our planet and intelligence to communicate so might extend beyond the human. With nation-state political powers collapsing and shifting amid the changes to Earth, many of those with historic powers begin to see that influence and control slipping away, with more going out to common citizens who manage to gain attention and influence of the population providing them with the opportunities and responsibilities of celebrity.

Being from the island of Barbados, Lord offers a unique and needed voice to the space opera genre with the Cygnus Beta novels that show how various voices, cultures, and politics come together into interesting possibilities for the future. In some ways the novels are a literary manifestation of that identity of relatively small nation, an intimate population isolated by surrounding sea-space yet firmly connected with a global network.

I’m now eager to finally get that physical copy of The Best of All Possible Worlds and more fully diving into Lord’s work for what I might have missed about it, myself, and this blue orb we live upon.