Book Review: ANGEL OF THE OVERPASS

TITLE: Angel of the Overpass (Ghost Roads Book 3)

AUTHOR: Seanan McGuire

320 pages, DAW, ISBN 9780756416898 (paperback, e-book, audiobook)

DESCRIPTION: (from the back cover): The third book of the Ghost Roads series returns to the highways of America, where hitchhiking ghost Rose Marshall continues her battle with her killer—the immortal Bobby Cross.

Lady of shadows, keeper of changes, plant the seeds of faith within me, that I might grow and flourish, that I might find my way through danger and uncertainty to the safety of your garden. Let my roots grow strong and my skin grow thick, that I might stand fast against all who would destroy me. Grant to me your favor, grant to me your grace, and when my time is done, grant to me the wisdom to lay my burdens down and rest beside you, one more flower in a sea of blooms, where nothing shall ever trouble me again.

Rose Marshall died when she was sixteen years old and on her way to her high school prom. She hasn’t been resting easy since then—Bobby Cross, the man who killed her, got away clean after running her off the road, and she’s not the kind of girl who can let something like that slide. She’s been looking for a way to stop him since before they put her body in the ground.

But things have changed in the twilight world where the spirits of the restless dead continue their “lives.” The crossroads have been destroyed, and Bobby’s protections are gone. For the first time, it might be possible for Rose to defeat him.

Not alone, though. She’ll need every friend she’s managed to make and every favor she’s managed to add to her account if she wants to stand a chance…and this may be her last chance to be avenged, since what is Bobby Cross without the crossroads?

Everything Rose knows is about to change.

MY RATING: 5 stars out of 5

MY THOUGHTS: It’s pretty much a given at this point that when a Seanan McGuire series reaches the third book, change is in the wind. The changes may be somewhat subtle, the changes may be massive, the changes may upend everything you thought you knew about the characters – but there will be changes. McGuire doesn’t write static worlds where every episode ends with the status quo maintained. So yeah – go into Angel of the Overpass, the third Ghost Roads book, expecting Rose Marshall’s world to be different at the end than it was at the beginning. There’s a reason “Everything Rose knows is about to change” is the tagline for the book’s description, after all. And Seanan is not one to fail to deliver what the cover copy promises.

But here’s the thing about change: it tends to sneak up on us. Rose Marshall, like most of us, only sees the steps that lead her to a major life change in retrospect. In the moment, those small steps are just something to be dealt with – another narrow escape from Bobby Cross’s clutches, another awkward conversation with her boyfriend the ghost-car, another mission from powers greater than she is. Rose is too “in the moment” to see where each of these moments is leading her. (I can relate. Rose may not age, but I’m really wondering how I’m going to be 55 in a few months, when I was just 25 last week.)

It’s a credit to McGuire’s skill with the little moments that they’re all important enough in their own right to keep Rose’s attention, and this reader’s, from looking too far ahead. So when the big change to Rose’s status quo does happen, it’s a surprise to the character and hopefully to the reader – but a surprise with a logical lead-up as opposed to one that comes with no connection to what came before.

“Life (or in Rose’s case, Afterlife) is what happens while you’re making other plans” is a pretty solid theme throughout Angel of the Overpass. It’s exemplified not just by what Rose thinks she’s headed towards (life without the threat of Bobby Cross) as compared to where she ends up, but also by the way events outside of Rose’s usual sphere of control affect her. Things are different in the Twilight now that the Crossroads have been destroyed. This major upheaval is not Rose’s doing at all – for the details, you’ll have to see McGuire’s InCryptid series which stars various members of Rose’s adopted mortal family the Prices. Again, it’s a credit to McGuire’s deft hand that readers of The Ghost Roads series don’t need to have read InCryptid to understand the enormity of what’s happened: a cosmic force has been killed, and the various levels of reality (Daylight, Twilight, Starlight, and perhaps even the Midnight) are reeling from it. And like everyone else, Rose has to find ways to exist in this new strangeness. Gee, I bet most of us can relate to that.

Of course, there’s the usual amount of fight scenes and mayhem in line with the previous books in the series (Sparrow Hill Road and The Girl in the Green Silk Gown). Some minor fights before the boss level conclusion, because Rose wouldn’t be Rose if she didn’t get into more than one jam per book. And there are a number of sweet moments with various characters as well. No, I won’t give you details about the fights or the sweet moments. I try very hard to avoid major spoilers in my reviews. Even if I do really want to make giddy exultations about that one new ghost Rose encounters… But no! I shall not. (Insert evil laughter here.)

Some online vendors are advertising Angel of the Overpass as Ghost Roads Book Three of Three. It may be the end of the first trilogy, because again: major life changes for our favorite hitchhiking ghost by the end, but I know Seanan would like to write more Rose Marshall books. And when she does, I’ll be here to read them, because I really can’t wait to see what Rose does next.

Note: I received an advanced reading copy via NetGalley.

Reading Round-Up: March 2021

Much belatedly, the monthly summary of what I read and listened to in March 2021!

BOOKS

I read 13 books in February: 7 in print, 6 in e-book format, and 0 in audio format. They were:

1.       Lightspeed Magazine #120 (March 2021 issue), edited by John Joseph Adams. The usual fine assortment of sf and fantasy short stories. This month’s favorites for me were Claire Wrenwood’s “Homecoming,” Yoon Ha Lee’s “The Empty Gun,” Sarah Grey’s “Brightly, Undiminished,” and P H Lee’s “The Bear Prince.”

2.       Lumberjanes Vol. 17: Smitten in the Stars by Shannon Watters and Kat Leyh (writer), Kanesha C. Bryant (art), Maarta Laiho (colors), Aubrey Aiese (letters), Sophie Philips-Roberts (editor). This graphic novel collects issues #65-68 of the monthly Lumberjanes series. This time out, Camp Director Rosie and counselor Jen’s attempt to take the Lumberjanes on a night of stargazing is interrupted by the arrival of a goddess, a cat-napping, and the Roanoke and Zodiac cabins sneaking out to search for aliens. It’s another really fun installment, and I’m going to be sad when the series draws to its announced end in the near future.

3.       The Inconvenient God (The Polity Book 1) by Francesca Forrest. This novelette serves as the introduction to the world of The Polity, where the prevailing government is moving the populace from worship of individual gods to themed abstractions. Old, waning gods are “decommissioned,” that is, turned mortal, through the efforts of a specialized department. The novelette is narrated by Decommissioner Thirty-Seven, who has arrived on a college campus to decommission a local trickster god (and patron of lazy students) named Ohin. Things do not go smoothly and secrets about the university’s and Ohin’s histories are laid bare. I was totally sucked into this story. FULL REVIEW HERE.

4.       Lagoonfire (The Polity Book 2) by Francesca Forrest. Decommissioner Thirty-Seven’s adventures continue in this novella. The action starts with Thirty-Seven being sent to investigate the possibility that the first god she decommissioned, Laloran-morna, is involved in corporate sabotage. More of Thirty-Seven’s personal history is revealed in this story, as is more about the Polity itself. You can read Lagoonfire without having read The Inconvenient God, but reading the novelette first adds some depth to the novella. FULL REVIEW HERE.

5.       Village Fool (A Little Village novella) by ‘Nathan Burgoine. The latest holiday-themed gay romance novella from ‘Nathan Burgoine shifts the action from Christmas to April Fool’s Day and gives us the back-story to the relationship between IT worker Owen and physical therapist Toma, who had been mentioned briefly in previous Little Village novellas. Burgoine’s usual warmth, romance, and fine character work are all present (along with plenty of trademark geeky good-natured snark). It’s a sweet story I highly recommend. And one does not have to have read the previous novellas in order to read this one. FULL REVIEW HERE.

6.       The Gilded Ones by Namina Forna. Sixteen-year-old Deka lives in a world in which women are second-class citizens: adult women must wear masks in public and can only hold certain jobs. Social status is indicated by the expensiveness of the masks women wear. At sixteen, girls are put through a ceremonial bleeding: if their blood runs red, they enter society. If their blood runs gold, they are put under the death mandate. Deka loses all hope when her blood runs gold – but then she is conscripted into a special battle corps of Alaki – near-immortal warrior women whose blood runs gold – to protect the empire from invading deathshrieks. Forna’s world-building, from the socio-political aspects to the magic, is fantastic and Deka is an intriguing narrator. This is billed in various places online as “The Deathless, Book 1” so I’m assuming there’s more to come in this world and with these characters.

7.       A Voice in the Darkness: Memoir of a Rwandan Genocide Survivor by Jeanne Celestine Lakin. The third book I’ve read about the Rwandan Genocide Against the Tutsi, a horrific event I’m still trying to wrap my mind and heart around. The two books I read in February were memoirs by men who survived the genocide by taking refuge in the “Hotel Rwanda.” Lakin’s memoir is of survival on the streets and in the fields, narrowly evading death multiple times in the company of her 3-year-old twin sisters. Lakin talks about the fear, the abandonment by Hutu family members and former friends, and the physical and sexual abuse she experienced as a child survivor of only 11-years old. The difference in experience between the hotel survivors and those who had to fend for themselves, and between men and women, is stark. My next planned read about the subject is a memoir by the leader of UN forces in the Rwandan capital during the Genocide, Romeo Dallaire.

8.       Blind Tiger (The Pride, Book 1) by Jordan L. Hawk. A new series set in the same alternate history of Hawk’s Hexworld/Witch Police novels, but with the action set in Prohibition-era Chicago. Sam Cunningham flees small town life to live with his hexmaker cousin in the big city, but when that cousin is murdered Sam must team up with the operators of a local speakeasy (called The Pride because the owners are a family of familiars who shift to various Big Cat forms) to solve the mystery and stay alive. As is usual with the Hexworld novels, there’s an awkward meet-cute between the two lead characters, a romance, and some hot sex. FULL REVIEW HERE.

9.       Faery Tales: One Woman’s Search for Enchantment in a Modern World by Signe Pike. One of my non-fiction To Be Read Challenge titles for 2021. Pike recounts her search for faeries across North America and the United Kingdom and how it changed her view of herself and what she wanted to accomplish. Along the way she meets a variety of colorful local folks and learns about the ways people approach the possibility of the supernatural co-existing with us. An interesting, easy read.

10.   Biff! Bam! Eee-Yow! The Subterranean Blue Grotto Guide to Batman ’66 Season Two edited by Jim Beard. Another wonderful book of essays covering each episode of season two.

11.   Minky Woodcock: The Girl Who Handcuffed Houdini by Cynthia von Buhler. One of my fiction TO Be Read Challenge titles for 2021, this graphic novel collects von Buhler’s first mini-series for Titan Books’ Hard Case Crime imprint. Minky Woodcock is the daughter of a famous detective who will not train her to take over his agency, so while he’s away and her ne’er-do-well brother is absent, she takes on a case to prove herself. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle hires her to prove Harry Houdini is a fraud. Mixing real-life events and people with fictional characters, von Buhler proposes a “true” reason for Houdini’s unfortunately early death. It’s a compelling story with interesting characters, and the second mini-series, The Girl Who Electrocuted Tesla, is currently releasing in monthly comics form.

12.   First, Become Ashes by K.M. Szpara. Szpara’s second novel explores self-discovery after trauma and outgrowing abusive origins in the context of a multi-narrator road-trip story. Dealing as it does explicitly with physical and emotional abuse, rape, and consent violations, this will not be an easy read for many people. FULL REVIEW HERE.

13.   The Black Canary: Bird of Prey by Robert Kanigher and Gardner F. Fox (writers), Carmine Infantino, Murphy Anderson, Alex Toth (artists). This graphic novel collects a number of Black Canary’s seminal Golden Age and Silver Age solo stories from Flash Comics #86-88 and 90-104, Comics Cavalcade #25, DC Special #3, Adventure Comics #399 and 418-419, and The Brave and the Bold #61-62 (her team-ups with Starman). Black Canary is one of my favorite characters and revisiting her evolution from mysterious guest-star in Johnny Thunder’s feature to replacing him and gaining a supporting cast of her own to returning in the Silver Age with powers is always fun. The Golden Age episodes feature an awful lot of BC and her male companion (first JT, then detective Larry Lance) getting knocked unconscious, and the early Infantino art feels a bit rough in comparison to the Murphy Anderson and Alex Toth art of the later stories, but they’re all enjoyable.

STORIES

I have a goal of reading 365 short stories (1 per day, essentially, although it doesn’t always work out that way) this year. Here’s what I read this month and where you can find them if you’re interested in reading them too. If no source is noted, the story is from the same magazine or book as the story(ies) that precede(s) it.

1.       “Homecoming” by Claire Wrenwood, from Lightspeed Magazine #130 (March 2021 issue), edited by John Joseph Adams

2.       “Dispatches from the Cradle: The Hermit -- Forty-Eight Hours in the Sea of Massachusetts” by Ken Liu

3.       “And Now, A Preview of Coming Attractions” by Adam-Troy Castro

4.       “The Empty Gun” by Yoon Ha Lee

5.       “Olivia’s Table” by Alyssa Wong

6.       “The Bear Prince” by P H Lee

7.       “A Place for Hiding Precious Things” by Amber Sparks

8.       “Brightly, Undiminished” by Sarah Grey

9.       “The Code for Everything” by McKinley Valentine, from Fantasy Magazine #65 (March 2021), edited by Christie Yant and Arley Sorg

10.   “Man vs. Bomb” by M. Shaw

11.   “Close Enough to Divine” by Donyae Coles

12.   “Arenous” by Hal Y. Zhang

13.    “The Hand of the Forest” by Seanan McGuire, on the author’s Patreon page.

14.   “The Sin of America” by Catherynne M. Valente, from Uncanny Magazine #39 (March 2021), edited by Lynne M. Thomas and Michael Damian Thomas

15.   “Colors of the Immortal Palette” by Caroline M. Yoachim

16.   “The Book of the Kraken” by Carrie Vaughn

17.   “It Accumulates” by Joanna Parypinski, from Nightmare Magazine #102 (March 2021), edited by Wendy N. Wagner

18.   “Forever is Composed of Nows” by Will Ludwigsen, from Bachelors #1, edited by Steve Berman

19.   “Babydog” by Ryan Vance

20.   “Whatever A Body is Not Obliged to Do” by L.A. Fields

21.   “Last Night at Manscape” by Nick Mamatas

22.   “Little Doors” by Claire Madrigano, from The Dark #70 (March 2021), edited by Sean Wallace

23.   “Immortelle” by Jelena Dunato

24.   “Las Girlfriends Guide to Subversive Eating” by Sabrina Vourvoulias, from Apex Magazine #122 (March 2021), edited by Jason Sizemore

25.   “A Future of Towers Made” by Beth Cato, from Clockwork, Curses, and Coal: Steampunk and Gaslamp Fairy Tales), edited by Rhonda Parrish

So that’s 25 short stories in March. Not quite “1 per day” but I’m still slightly ahead for the year. (March 31st was the 90th day of 2021.)

Summary of Reading Challenges:

“To Be Read” Challenge: This month: 2 read; YTD: 6 of 24 main titles read. (0 of 4 alternate titles read)

366 Short Stories Challenge: This month:  53 read; YTD: 104 of 365 read.

Graphic Novels Challenge:  This month: 3 read; YTD: 8 of 52 read.

Goodreads Challenge: This month: 13 read; YTD: 37 of 125 read.

Non-Fiction Challenge: This month: 3 read; YTD: 7 of 24 read.

Read the Book / Watch the Movie Challenge: This month: 0; YTD: 0 read/watched.

Complete the Series Challenge: This month: 0 book read; YTD: 0 of 14 read.

                                                          Series fully completed: 0 of 4 planned

Monthly Special Challenge:   March was Women’s History Month, so my intent was to read as many female authors as possible. On the “short story” side of things, I did pretty well: 17 of the 25 stories read were by female-identifying authors. On the “books” side of things, comparatively, I did less well: if I include all the creators involved in Lumberjanes Vol 17, 9 of the books I read were written/created by female-identifying authors/artists.

April’s mini-challenge is poetry, as April is National Poetry Month. I am not a consistent reader of poetry, but in April I usually try to read at least a couple of poetry collections, so we’ll see how I do.

Book Review: FIRST, BECOME ASHES

TITLE: First, Become Ashes

AUTHOR: K.M. Szpara

304 pages, Publisher, ISBN 9781250216182 (hardcover, also available in e-book and audio)

DESCRIPTION: (from Goodreads): The Fellowship raised Lark to kill monsters. His partner betrayed them to the Feds. But Lark knows his magic is real, and he’ll do anything to complete his quest.

For thirty years, the Fellowship of the Anointed isolated its members, conditioning them to believe that pain is power. That magic is suffering. That the world beyond the fence has fallen prey to monsters. But when their leader is arrested, all her teachings come into question. Those touched by the Fellowship face a choice: how will they adjust to the world they were taught to fear, and how will they relate to the cult's last crusader, Lark? For Kane, survival means rejecting the magic he and his lover suffered for. For Deryn, the cult's collapse is an opportunity to prove they are worth as much as their Anointed brother. For Calvin, Lark is the alluring embodiment of the magic he's been seeking his entire life. But for Lark, the Fellowship isn’t over. Before he can begin to discover himself and heal a lifetime of traumas, he has a monster to slay. First, Become Ashes contains explicit sadomasochism and sexual content, as well as abuse and consent violations, including rape.

MY RATING: 4 out of 5 stars

MY THOUGHTS: In First, Become Ashes, K.M. Szpara asks some heavy questions about belief and identity, filtered through the first-person narration of four quite different voices: a true believer, a former believer, a skeptical believer, and an outsider who wants to believe. Any one of these characters could have narrated the entire book and the story would have been compelling enough. Splitting the narration between the four allows readers to read between the lines of their individual stories to see a bigger picture. Multiple narrators also allow the author to show some of the breadth and depth of how different people process trauma and abandonment.

At its heart, First, Become Ashes is about how belief shapes identity, and how loss of belief can sometimes shatter that sense of self (unless something equally worth believing in replaces it). In this regard, lovers Lark and Kane are a study in contrasts. When we first meet Lark, he is resolute in his belief in the teachings of Nova and the Fellowship. Nova can do no wrong, anything she requires of him must be for the good of the community no matter how painful or unpalatable it might be. Lark is willing to be used and abused if it means he’s really as special as Nova claims; he’s willing to abuse others if it means he gets to fulfill the destiny laid out for him in whatever passes for the Fellowship’s scriptures. When we finally read chapters from Kane’s perspective, we see a man who has lost all faith in the tradition in which he was raised. He recognizes Nova’s abuses for what they are; he realizes that in believing her lies he’s been forced to hurt the man he loves and be hurt in turn. Lark’s total devotion to the cause empowers his magic – Kane’s departure from the faith destroys his. As Lark goes on his quest to hunt a monster, to fulfill what he’s been trained and raised to do, questions about whether Kane and others might be right in their assessment of Nova’s rituals and intent lead to Lark’s magic seeming to fail him in certain situations. Wanting to bring Lark home safely, to rescue the man he loves from their former life, Kane’s magic seems to work in certain situations despite his lack of belief. Both men wonder if they can survive in a world without the control and structure the Fellowship demanded, as do the few other “Anointed” we meet.

As a Fellow rather than an Anointed, Deryn provides yet another point-of-view to be considered: what if the magic is real, even if the mission is false and the structure of the Fellowship is abusive? Anointed and then demoted, they question everything: their place in the Fellowship, their role as Lark’s sibling, their worth to the society outside the Fellowship. But they never really question the magic itself, and in fact encourage others to believe in it, including FBI Agent Miller who has been investigating the Fellowship her entire career. Deryn and Miller are characters whose separate experiences explicate how abandonment also shapes sense-of-self. Without spoiling anything, what they have in common is that they were both told they were something special, only to be told that they weren’t special enough. Everything Deryn and Miller do is motivated by needing to understand why things changed, why they were cast aside for others. There are no chapters from Miller’s perspective, so we never really get to see her own take on being abandoned, but her experiences are mirrored in Deryn and over time they become kindred spirits.

And then there’s Calvin: a cosplayer and social media “influencer” who is as aware of the Fellowship as anyone who lives near their compound in Baltimore but has no idea how deep the teachings go. Calvin would have been the target audience if someone had filmed a documentary or reality show about the Fellowship; he might even have been one of those folks who becomes obsessed with the subjects of such a show. Calvin combines aspects of the other characters in his “outsider” perspective. He has been abandoned by his family for not being what they wanted him to be (like Deryn and Miller), he desperately wants magic to be real (like Lark) but is appalled at the cost once he becomes aware of it (like Kane).

Readers should be warned that Szpara does not go light on the emotional or physical abuse these four characters have experienced. Most of it is revealed in flashback but some of it is current, and there’s no “fade to black / let the reader infer” when these events happen. I leave it up to survivors of abuse to discuss how accurate/realistic the characters’ reactions are. Likewise, I leave analysis of the consensual BDSM scenes to members of that community to weigh in on.

First, Become Ashes is not an easy read, with all of the raw emotional and physical trauma the four main characters experience. But it is an engrossing read with characters I came to deeply care about.

(NOTE: I read an e-ARC of First, Become Ashes which I received from NetGalley. I completed reading the book well before publication date but this review was delayed for a variety of reasons having nothing to do with the book itself.)

Book Review: BLIND TIGER

TITLE: Blind Tiger (The Pride, Book 1)

AUTHOR: Jordan L. Hawk

206 pages, JLH Books, ISBN 9798711192763 (print, also available in e-book; audiobook forthcoming)

DESCRIPTION: (from Goodreads): 1924, Chicago. Prohibition is in full swing and gang bosses rule the city with might—and magic. When Sam Cunningham flees his small-town life to try his luck in the big city of Chicago, he quickly finds himself in over his head in a world of gangs, glitz, and glamour. Fortunately, he has his cousin Eldon to teach him the trade of hex-making. Everything changes the night Sam visits The Pride speakeasy and meets grumpy cheetah-shifter Alistair Gatti. After losing his first witch to the horrors of the World War, Alistair isn’t interested in any new entanglements, romantic or magical. Especially when said entanglement comes in the form of kind, innocent Sam. When Eldon is brutally murdered, Sam becomes drawn into the dark underworld of the Chicago gangs. Sam must find the missing hex Eldon created for one of the crime bosses—before whoever killed Eldon comes back for him. Together, Alistair and Sam begin the search for the mysterious hex, diving deep into the seedy side of Chicago’s underworld while dodging rival gangs. And as they come to rely on one another, Alistair realizes he’s falling for the one man he can’t afford to love.

MY RATING: 5 out of 5 stars

MY THOUGHTS: Fans of Jordan L. Hawk’s previous alternate history/fantasy/gay romance books will not be disappointed with Blind Tiger, the start of a new trilogy in the same alternate history timeline as his Hexworld books. Blind Tiger is full of the action, mystery, humor, romance, and steamy sex that are Hawk’s hallmarks.

For those not familiar with the world-building of the Hexworld series, a recap: it’s a world just like our own, with most of the same history intact, except that magic is a known quantity. Witches (a gender-neutral term in this world) are able to imbue written hexes with magic drawn from their shape-shifting familiars (also a gender-neutral term). Normal people can then use those hexes to do everything from keeping iceboxes cold when there’s no electricity to healing sickness – and occasionally, if the right hex is used, much larger scale magic. Any witch can bond with any familiar (but not more than one in either direction), but the magic works best when the familiar bonds to “their” witch (a nebulous-defined term that basically means that they are “meant to be together”). The books in Hawk’s Hexworld series all take place in 1890’s New York City, focused on the witches and familiars of that city’s Witch Police. Over the course of four books and a couple of short stories, Hawk has been developing a larger conspiracy involving the public’s perception and acceptance of familiars fanned to unhealthy levels by both government and religious leaders. Hawk has said he’ll eventually return to that storyline but had this idea that just wouldn’t wait. And thus, we have the start of the Pride trilogy, which moves the action to a different city (Chicago) and a different decade (the 1920s).

Whatever finally happens in 1890s NYC, it’s implied that in 1920s Chicago people are a bit more accepting of familiars in general but not necessarily of the more “dangerous” ones. Familiars are specific shapeshifters: they can transform into one animal and only one animal. When that animal is a cute dog or cat or bird, no one seems to care. But when that animal is something large and predatory, say “big cats” like lions, tigers, and cheetahs, people are still afraid. The members of the Gatti family all turn into big cats, and they’ve used that fear to carve out a place for themselves as “independent operators” within the territory of a gang overlord named Sullivan. Their position is ordinarily precarious but becomes even more so after the murder of Eldon Cunningham. Hawk does a wonderful job of setting the stakes for this “found family” from the very start of the book and then ramping those stakes up as the action progresses.

As the book synopsis indicates, the characters at the heart of the story are Alistair Gatti and Sam Cunningham. There’s an awkward meet-cute in the speakeasy the Gattis own, Sam introducing himself as “Sammy … Sam … Sam,” which Alistair riffs on immediately (but only until it’s clear Sam doesn’t like it; then Alistair backs off). These are two quite different men: Sam is shy, insecure, skittish where Alistair is grumpy, too sure of himself, bold. But they have something in common (other than the witch-familiar bond that Alistair recognizes right away and Sam has no reason to think even exists): both are suffering from forms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and abandonment issues. The formative experiences that lead to the PTSD, and the ways in which each man deals with it (or doesn’t) are revealed slowly throughout the book and I don’t want to spoil anything. But I can say that Hawk writes these characters with a sensitivity and keen understanding of both PTSD and abandonment disorders that infuses both men with deep layers the reader will appreciate. This is true of pretty much every Hawk character I have encountered; just because there’s sex in these books doesn’t mean the characters are flat or undeveloped. But in this particular book, it really stands out. I look forward to how Alistair and Sam’s relationship will progress through the second and third books of this trilogy, and how they will help each other deal with the PTSD triggers they inevitably will encounter.

I also look forward to the development of the rest of the Gatti family over the next two books. The Gatti siblings are all orphans who adopted each other and do everything they can to protect each other. In addition to the five siblings, the family extends to include witches, lovers, and spouses (not always the same person; even when a familiar finds “their” witch, there’s not always a romantic connection nor does there need to be for the magic to work). We get glimpses of these relationships and tidbits about how they came to be, and we get a good sense of each family member’s personalities – but it would be nice to get to know them even better, to see the depths in them that we get to see in Alistair and Sam. Heck, I’d even like to see more of the crime-lord Sullivan.

The mystery of Eldon’s murder is very “fair play.” The clues are all there for the reader to pick up on, but not so obviously presented that you’ll guess whodunnit and why within the first half of the book.

And the steamy sex is steamy. As one would expect from a Jordan L. Hawk book.

Romance, erotica, mystery, and fantasy all under one cover and all equally well-written: Blind Tiger has something for everyone.

Book Review: VILLAGE FOOL

TITLE: Village Fool

AUTHOR: ‘Nathan Burgoine

74 pages, Bold Stroke Books, ISBN 9781635559828 (e-book)

DESCRIPTION: (from Publisher website): Owen is only confident in two places: at work, supporting clients through IT woes, and when he’s sitting around a gaming table in the role of a smooth and charming bard. He’s never acted on the crush he’s had on his physiotherapist—and total cubcake—Toma. Even though Owen’s no longer Toma’s patient, and his crush hasn’t dialed down in the slightest, Owen can’t figure out how to make a move.

When a friend decides to play a prank involving Owen’s contact list, Owen spends the morning of April Fools’ day inadvertently texting smooth and charming thoughts about Toma... to Toma himself.

By the time Owen discovers the prank, things are completely out of control. Discussions of thighs and awards for the World’s Best Chest have been handed out—not to mention they’ve set an accidental coffee date—and there’s no taking that sort of thing back. When this joke finally gets told, Owen’s convinced he’ll be the punchline, but with a little luck and some nudging from his friends, the last laugh might be the best of his life.

MY RATING: 5 out of 5 stars

MY THOUGHTS: If you’ve read either of ‘Nathan Burgoine’s other “Little Village” romance novellas (Handmade Holidays and Faux Ho Ho) you will not be surprised at how endearing Village Fool is nor how relatable the main characters are. If this is your first “Little Village” romance, you’re in for a treat. Yes, this is the third book in a series if we look at them in release order, but each “Little Village” novella stands alone so you can jump right into this one without having read the previous two (and maybe it will inspire you to read the others!).

Like its predecessors, Village Fool is a holiday romance, but instead of the usual Christmas or New Year’s setting we get April Fool’s Day. Now, I don’t know about you, but April Fool’s Day is not one of my favorite holidays, having involved more bullying than humor in my childhood. But I don’t dislike the holiday enough to write off a romance with April Fools pranks at the core unread, especially when that book is written by one of my favorite authors (overall, and specifically of gay romance). Unlike its predecessors, where the holiday itself is not just the set-up but a key component of the plot, Village Fool really could have taken place at any time of year. Friends play pranks on friends all the time. But setting it on the holiday keeps the “Little Village” holiday theme going, and it works just fine.

I identified heavily with Owen, the novella’s POV character. Like him, I am far smoother and more personable when I’m on the job (corporate trainer in my case, IT support for Owen) or when I’m among very, very close friends (the Bittersweets Club and D&D circle for Owen) than when I have to make conversation with a guy I find interesting/attractive (my current ongoing crush is also a total “cubcake” like Toma, but he works in the food industry not as a physiotherapist). Like Owen, my friends tease me about my crush and I get a little angsty about why I can’t seem to formulate complete sentences around him. Also like Owen, I would be devastatingly embarrassed if my friends pulled a stunt like Felix does at the start of Village Fool to force the “just ask him out already” issue. (Unlike Owen, I still have no idea if my crush might be even remotely into guys, but that’s a topic for my therapist and not a book review…) The TL;DR of this paragraph is: Owen is recognizable, relatable, and very easy to like.

And even though we don’t get any scenes directly from Toma’s POV to see inside his head, we can tell that he’s also relatable and likeable. His every interaction with Owen is supportive, friendly, eventually flirty. He’s not happy that the date he thought he was finally going on was a misunderstanding and he’s not willing to let Felix completely or easily off the hook. But Toma also understands why Owen is so much more upset about the situation than he is and he’s willing to back off and give Owen space if that’s what Owen wants.

In the hands of other authors, this misunderstanding would garner a novel’s worth of anger and angst before the situation gets resolved, with both characters second-guessing their own feelings as well as the other character’s motivations and responses. Burgoine threads that needle expertly: Owen’s reactions, borne out of humiliation, are a bit more histrionic (without being soap-opera scenery-chewing) while Toma’s are more grounded (without being dismissive of Owen’s feelings), and both men’s reactions are totally in character.

The alternating chapters of present-day and flashbacks format works as well in Village Fool as it did in Faux Ho Ho, adding nice levels of tension and release. Again, it’s a style that not every author is fully effective with, but Burgoine is a master.

There’s also just the right amount of interference from Owen’s circle of friends in both the present and the past to help nudge things towards a Happily Ever After ending (although in Felix’s case the “nudging” is what creates the drama in the first place). The alternating flashback chapters fill us in not just on how Owen came to know Toma, but also how he met Silas, Ru, and Felix and started to feel like maybe the Village was someplace he belongs. The prank and its aftermath don’t occur in a bubble; we get glimpses of a well-developed group of friends without those glimpses being winky-nudgy-youshouldhavereadtheotherbooks distractions. I was happy to see Silas and Dino (from Faux Ho Ho) and Ru and Fiona (from Handmade Holidays) in varying-sized supporting roles along with mentions of other residents and businesses in the Little Village district.

I don’t think I will ever get tired of stories set amongst the group of friends we’ve met in these three novellas, and I hope the “Little Village” series goes on for a long time regardless of whether the “holiday” theme continues. If you like stories that include awkward meet-cutes, friends who are family, and happily-ever-after gay romance, pick up Village Fool and the other Little Village novellas.

Sunday Shorts: Two by Francesca Forrest

I love short fiction, and Sunday Shorts is the feature where I get to blog about it. Posts will range from flash to novellas. At some point, I might delve into individual stories/episodes of anthology formats in other media, like television and comics, but for the time being, I’m sticking to prose in print and audio.

I get a lot of book recommendations from a variety of sources, including, of course, close friends. Every now and then, one of those recommendations leads to an author becoming a “favorite”/ “must-read everything.” For instance, it is Jim Savenkoff’s fault that you all now get inundated with so many Seanan McGuire reviews, interviews, and social media comments from me. I suspect, based on my enjoyment of the novelette and novella I’m about to talk about, that in the future you’ll be able to blame Claire Cooney for all the Francesca Forrest posts I’ll be making. Fair warning. (Claire’s first recommendation was Forrest’s The Gown of Harmonies, which I listened to as an audiobook last year and loved and briefly reviewed HERE. But me being me, it wasn’t until Claire recommended these two stories that I remembered I wanted to read more by the author.)

In The Inconvenient God, we are introduced to the world of the Polity through the first-person narration of Decommissioner Thirty-Seven, who occasionally allows people to call her by her childhood nickname of “Sweeting” rather than her job title or her real name. Thirty-Seven is a decommissioner of deities for the Polity’s Ministry of Divinity. The Polity is slowly migrating its citizens from worship of local gods to worship of universal Abstractions (like Justice, Peace, Mischief, etc.); when the time comes, fading gods are decommissioned – that is, their divinity is removed and they become mortal. They remember their divine existences but now age and die as mortals do. In this introductory novelette, Thirty-Seven has been called to distant Nando University to decommission a troublemaking minor local deity named Ohin, who is worshipped nowhere else but this campus and who is kept from fading because he’s basically the patron god of failing students. What should be a straightforward decommissioning takes several interesting turns as Thirty-Seven learns that the Ministry was not provided enough information about Ohin for her to do her job properly. I don’t want to spoil what the information is or how it affects the outcome of Thirty-Seven’s mission, but I will say that the twists and reveals flow logically from each other, expand our understanding of how decommissionings work, and lead to a great conclusion to the story. In fifty-five pages, Forrest gives us a chance to really get to know Thirty-Seven/Sweeting: her focus on doing her job well, her insecurities based on previous cases that were shall we say less-than-smooth, her aggravation when incomplete or inaccurate information hampers her efforts, her emotional ties to the now-decommissioned gods of the Sweet Harbor district where she grew up. I was as intrigued by what Thirty-Seven tells us about herself as what she doesn’t (her real name, for instance). Forrest also weaves in some hints about what kind of society the Polity is: world (or at least, continent) wide, pushing towards a state religion over the freedom to worship whatever gods a person chooses to (a move not everyone is happy about).

Both Thirty-Seven’s personal history and the Polity’s dystopian nature are revealed in the novella Lagoonfire. It turns out that one of Thirty-Seven’s earliest decommissionings was of the last still-deified Sweet Harbor god, Laloran-morna, and she botched the job. Laloran-morna is mortal but when he gets upset saltwater rushes from and through him, usually leaving unsightly puddles wherever he’s been. So naturally, when an unusual incursion of seawater threatens the stability of a land development project over the former Lotus Estuary section of the Sweet Harbor District of the Capitol, Laloran-morna is suspected and Thirty-Seven is sent to investigate. Neither Thirty-Seven nor the reader is surprised when the case turns out to be more complicated (involving a former lover of Laloran-morna’s as well as a human college professor of history and archaeology) and Thirty-Seven’s unorthodox problem-solving skills (so well displayed in The Inconvenient God) are needed, despite the preferences of her boss and other officials. Those other officials are the Civil Order – the state police. It’s through Thirty-Seven’s encounters with the professor and the Civil Order that we come to understand just how much of a dystopia this society is: “Big Brother” in a fantasy setting, out to subsume and overwrite local culture and even history itself – whatever it takes to solidify control and eliminate resistance. Everyone is watched and monitored via communications devices called “unicoms” and anyone suspected of questioning the Polity or working against its mandates is arrested and questioned. Thirty-Seven’s family history gives her plenty of reasons to avoid contact with the Civil Order and also explains her focus on just doing her job well and not being noticed. We get to see a great deal more of Thirty-Seven’s interactions with her co-workers (mostly her immediate superior, Decommissioner Five, and her closest peers, Decommissioners Thirty-Three (whose name is Tailin) and Thirty-Six (Feshi). We also learn Thirty-Seven’s real name and that her nickname of “Sweeting” comes from the decommissioned gods of Sweet Harbor, who treat her like a niece or daughter. The novella length allows Forrest to tease out these personal and world-building details slowly, allowing each reveal to breath a bit before the next one comes along. The slow build of tension is wonderfully paced until the action of the final act where it all comes together, and I had several “ohmygod, did that really just happen” moments along the way.

Each of these books wraps up its own major storyline, so there are no cliffhangers to entice you into the next book. That enticement comes through the wonderful character voice of Thirty-Seven and the world Forrest reveals through her. You could really read these books out of publication order and not feel lost in the world-building. The good news is, there’s a third Polity book in the works, and I cannot wait to see how Forrest builds on some of the sub-plots of Lagoonfire especially. In the meantime, I’ll be reading all the other short stories and novel (PenPal) by Francesca Forrest that I bought and downloaded before writing this column.

Reading Round-Up: February 2021

The monthly summary of what I’ve been reading and listening to in 2021!

BOOKS

I read 12 books in February: 6 in print, 5 in e-book format, and 1 in audio format. They were:

1.       Lightspeed Magazine #129 (February 2021 issue), edited by John Joseph Adams. The usual fine assortment of sf and fantasy short stories. This month’s favorites for me were Phoebe Barton’s “The Mathematics of Fairyland,” Keith Brooke and Eric Brown’s “Me Two,” A.T. Greenblatt’s “The Memory of a Memory is a Spirit,” and Autumn Brown’s “Small and Bright.”

2.       Abbott by Saladin Ahmed (writer), Sami Kivelä (art), Jason Wordie (colors), Jim Campbell (letters), Chris Rosa and Eric Harbur (editor). This graphic novel collects the first Abbott mini-series about intrepid reporter Elena Abbott, who happens to be both black and a woman working at a white-run newspaper in 1972 Detroit. As Abbott investigates a string of unusual murders (of black men and animals), she uncovers supernatural events tied to the death of her first husband. I absolutely loved this: the pacing of the story, the multi-faceted characters (and their full representation of racial/gender/sexuality marginalized groups), and the supernatural threat – the Umbra – along with Elena’s role in fighting it. A second mini-series, Abbott 1973, has just started monthly publication.

3.       The Worker Prince (The Saga of Davi Rhii Book 1) by Bryan Thomas Schmidt. Schmidt takes the Moses myth and jumps in into far-future interstellar space, where the human leader of the Borali Alliance declares the first-born sons of all human Workers must be killed. The one child spared grows up thinking he’s the leader’s nephew until the truth comes out and he rallies the Workers to revolution. Fast-paced space opera with engaging lead characters and a scenery-chewing villain you can’t help but hate.

4.       Lumberjanes True Colors by Lilah Sturges (writer), Polterink! (art and colors), Jim Campbell (letters), Sophie Philips-Roberts (editor). The focus of this stand-alone graphic novel (which does not reprint material from the regular monthly Lumberjanes book) is on Ripley. Ripley, the youngest and most excitable of the ‘Janes, starts to feel like standing out and being noticed isn’t the great thing she’s always thought, and then she meets a zebracorn (yes, you read that correctly, and it’s exactly what you think) who grants her wish to fit in and be like everyone else. Downside? She’s so bland everyone forgets her, which causes problems when her fellow ‘Janes encounter a problem only Ripley’s unique persona can solve. Once again, Sturges and Polterink deliver a story that shows the power of friendship and human need to be liked/respected/needed.

5.       The Returning (The Saga of Davi Rhii Book 2) by Bryan Thomas Schmidt. In the second book of the Davi Rhii trilogy, the Workers (Vertullians) have been made full members of the Borali Alliance, but not everyone is happy about that. Political and personal tensions bubble over. Just as fun and fast-paced as the first book, while adding layers to the characters and to the society as a whole.

6.       An Ordinary Man: An Autobiography by Paul Rusesabagina. I bought this book a few years back after several people recommended it. Reading Rusesabagina’s memoir of his role in saving refugees during the Genocide Against the Tutsi in Rwanda in 1994 was an interesting experience. He has an engaging style, very personable and expressive. The early chapters do a nice job of laying out not just his personal history but a bit of Rwanda’s history that led to the genocide. But about halfway through the book, I started to question what I was reading: were his actions really as altruistic as he was painting? why does he insist on describing the Hutu leaders of the genocide movement as “good men” when they clearly aren’t? Every memoir is subjective – ask five people who witnessed the same event to describe it and you’re going to get five different stories – but this felt a bit like the author was trying to unsuccessfully gloss over things he didn’t think fit the narrative that’s been built around him thanks to the movie Hotel Rwanda. So, I’m reading more about the genocide, from other refugees/survivors. Because one of the things the author is accurate about is the lack of knowledge in the US when it comes to genocide in general and especially to genocides in other countries.

7.       Nine Bar Blue by Sheree Renée Thomas. What an amazing short story collection. Every story here was new to me, even the reprints. I have no idea how I’ve managed to not read anything by Thomas even while being aware of her via Twitter, Facebook, and posts by so many other authors – it’s kind of embarrassing. As the title implies, a lot of these stories have music as a background or basis, and many of them take place in or near Memphis. They also skirt the genre line between horror and fantasy – quite a few gave me chills and a sense of wonder. I’m planning to post a full review soon.

8.       Later by Stephen King. The protagonist of Stephen King’s third novel for Hard Case Crime calls to mind King favorites like Geordie LaChance and Bill Denbrough but is set in the 2000s. There’s a solid supernatural element to this alongside the crime, so something for everyone. FULL REVIEW HERE.

9.       Hawkman Vol 4: Hawks Eternal by Robert Venditti (writer), Fernando Pasarin, Marco Castiello, Marcio Takara (art), Jeromy Cox (colors), Rob Leigh, Richard Starkings (letters), Harvey Richards (editor). Collecting the final issues of Venditti’s fantastic reinvention/expansion of the Hawkman mythos. I regret not picking this series up in monthly format, the story is that good. The run ends as strong as it started, while leaving room for other people to work with the character. I’m planning to do a Series Saturday post sometime soon.

10.   Inside the Hotel Rwanda: The Surprising True Story … and Why It Matters Today by Edouard Kayihura. While I was reading the Rusesabagina memoir, this book and several others about the 1994 Genocide Against the Tutsis in Rwanda popped up as recommendations. So, when I decided I wanted a broader look at the Hundred Days, it made sense to start here. Kayihura’s style is not as immediately personable as Rusesabinga’s; his style is more tense, fully acknowledging the danger everyone was in. Again, the early chapters cover his life pre-genocide and a bit of the country’s history – but Kayihura also extends the story beyond the end of the Genocide, covering his life and the nation’s attempts to heal. There’s also a lot of anti-Rusesabagina talk throughout the book, which matched some of what I thought was suspect about Rusesabagina’s story. I have two more memoirs (one by a female survivor, one by the leader of the UN peacekeeping forces) that I’m going to read this month to try and round out my understanding of what happened.

11.   The Measure of a Man: A Spiritual Autobiography by Sidney Poitier. The only audiobook I listened to this month (I’m traveling far less these days), and what a great listen. Poitier is a wonderful storyteller (no surprise there). What I found interesting is that this is not a linear memoir; Poitier bounces between his early childhood in the Bahamas, his teen years in Miami, his adult married life and acting career and his present (at the time he recorded this) reasons for looking back. He tackles moments in life and those of his parents when those moments tie into whatever point he’s making about being human. And it’s really enthralling all the way through. And he leaves in all the natural verbal tics (the “you knows” and “you understand what I’m saying” type phrases) that most memoirists leave out. There’s nothing effected at all in his style.

12.   How Long ‘Til Black Future Month? by N.K. Jemisin. The first of my fiction To Be Read challenge titles hasn’t been sitting on my shelf as long as some of the other titles on this year’s list, since the book came out in 2018, but it was an appropriate choice for Black History Month, don’t you think? I had previously read a handful of these stories in other venues (“The Ones Who Stay and Fight,” “The Effluent Machine,” “Cloud Dragon Skies,” “Valedictorian,” and “Non-Zero Probabilities”) but most of them were new to me. As with the Sheree Renée Thomas collection, I really tried to savor this one, but could never put it down after just one story. Every single story is thought-provoking, whether it’s science fiction or fantasy, present-day, far-future, or otherworldly. This is not just Afrofuturism/Afrofantasy at its finest, it’s science fiction/fantasy as a whole at its finest.

STORIES

I have a goal of reading 365 short stories (1 per day, essentially, although it doesn’t always work out that way) this year. Here’s what I read this month and where you can find them if you’re interested in reading them too. If no source is noted, the story is from the same magazine or book as the story(ies) that precede(s) it.

1.       “The Mathematics of Fairyland” by Phoebe Barton, from Lightspeed Magazine #129 (February 2021 issue), edited by John Joseph Adams

2.       “Bulletproof Tattoos” by Paul Crenshaw

3.       “Me Two” by Keith Brooke and Eric Brown

4.       “Sidewalks” by Maureen F. McHugh

5.       “Church of Birds” by Micah Dean Hicks

6.       “The Memory of a Memory is a Spirit” by A.T. Greenblatt

7.       “Small and Bright” by Autumn Brown

8.       “Destinations of Beauty” by Alexander Weinstein

9.       “Kisser” by David James Brock, from Fantasy Magazine #64 (February 2021), edited by Christie Yant and Arley Sorg

10.   “Of Course You Screamed” by Sharang Biswas

11.   “Like a Box of Chocolates” by Dani Atkinson

12.   “Flight” by Innocent Chizaram Ilo

13.    “Inflatable Angel” by Seanan McGuire, on the author’s Patreon page.

14.   “Spyder Threads” by Craig Laurence Gidney, from Come Join Us by The Fire Volume 2, (not sure who edited it)

15.   “Navigational Errors” by Lucy A. Snyder, from Fireside #88, edited by Maurice Broaddus

16.   “Ancestries” by Sheree Renée Thomas from Nine Bar Blues

17.   “Thirteen Year Long Song” by Sheree Renée Thomas

18.   “Aunt Dissy’s Policy Dream Book” by Sheree Renée Thomas

19.   “Nightflight” by Sheree Renée Thomas

20.   “River, Clap Your Hands” by Sheree Renée Thomas

21.   “Stars Come Down” by Sheree Renée Thomas

22.   “Child’s Play” by Sheree Renée Thomas

23.   “Headstatic” by Sheree Renée Thomas

24.   “The Parts That Make Us Monsters” by Sheree Renée Thomas

25.   “The Dragon Can’t Dance” by Sheree Renée Thomas

26.   “Who Needs the Stars if the Full Moon Loves You” by Sheree Renée Thomas

27.   “310 Lucy” by Sheree Renée Thomas

28.   “Shanequa’s Blues – Or Another Shotgun Lullaby” by Sheree Renée Thomas

29.   “Madame & the Map: A Journey in Five Movements” by Sheree Renée Thomas

30.   “Teddy Bump” by Sheree Renée Thomas

31.   “Origins of Southern Spirit Music” by Sheree Renée Thomas

32.   “The Ones That Stay and Fight” by N.K Jemisin, from How Long ‘Til Black Future Month?

33.   “The City Born Great” by N.K Jemisin

34.   “Red Dirt Witch” by N.K Jemisin

35.   “L’Alchemista” by N.K Jemisin

36.   “The Effluent Machine” by N.K Jemisin

37.   “Cloud Dragon Skies” by N.K Jemisin

38.   “The Trojan Girl” by N.K Jemisin

39.   “Valedictorian” by N.K Jemisin

40.   “The Storyteller’s Replacement” by N.K Jemisin

41.   “The Brides of Heaven” by N.K Jemisin

42.   “The Evaluators” by N.K Jemisin

43.   “Walking Awake” by N.K Jemisin

44.   “The Elevator Dancer” by N.K Jemisin

45.   “Cuisine des Mémoires” by N.K Jemisin

46.   “Stone Hunger” by N.K Jemisin

47.   “On the Banks of the River Lex” by N.K Jemisin

48.   “The Narcomancer” by N.K Jemisin

49.   “Henosis” by N.K Jemisin

50.   “Too Many Yesterdays, Not Enough Tomorrows” by N.K Jemisin

51.   “The You Train” by N.K Jemisin

52.   “Non-Zero Probabilities” by N.K Jemisin

53.   “Sinners, Saints, Dragons, and Haints, in the City Beneath the Still Waters” by N.K Jemisin

So that’s 53 short stories in February. Quite a bit more than “1 per day” and putting me ahead so far for the year. (February 28th was the 59th day of 2021.)

Summary of Reading Challenges:

“To Be Read” Challenge: This month: 3 read; YTD: 4 of 24 main titles read. (0 of 4 alternate titles read)

366 Short Stories Challenge: This month:  53 read; YTD: 79 of 365 read.

Graphic Novels Challenge:  This month: 3 read; YTD: 5 of 52 read.

Goodreads Challenge: This month: 12 read; YTD: 24 of 125 read.

Non-Fiction Challenge: This month: 3 read; YTD: 4 of 24 read.

Read the Book / Watch the Movie Challenge: This month: 0; YTD: 0 read/watched.

Complete the Series Challenge: This month: 0 book read; YTD: 0 of 14 read.

                                                          Series fully completed: 0 of 4 planned

Monthly Special Challenge:  February was Black History Month and Women in Horror Month, so my challenge, as usual, was to read as many Black authors and women horror writers as I could, and with hopefully a few overlaps. I read 5 books (An Ordinary Man; Nine Bar Blues; Inside the Hotel Rwanda; The Measure of a Man; and How Long ‘Til Black Future Month) by black authors, which was not quite half of the total books read for the month. Most of those short stories I read by black authors were accounted for by the Sheree Renee Thomas and N.K. Jemisin collections, but there was also work by Gidney, Ilo, and Brown. Thomas and Jemisin also accounted for most of my minimal “women in horror” reading, alongside short stories by Seanan McGuire and Lucy A. Snyder.

March is Women’s History Month, so my intent is to read as many female authors as possible.

Book Review: LATER

TITLE: Later

AUTHOR: Stephen King

272 pages, Hard Case Crime, ISBN 9781789096491 (paperback, also available in e-book and audio)

DESCRIPTION: (from Goodreads): SOMETIMES GROWING UP MEANS FACING YOUR DEMONS.
The son of a struggling single mother, Jamie Conklin just wants an ordinary childhood. But Jamie is no ordinary child. Born with an unnatural ability his mom urges him to keep secret, Jamie can see what no one else can see and learn what no one else can learn. But the cost of using this ability is higher than Jamie can imagine - as he discovers when an NYPD detective draws him into the pursuit of a killer who has threatened to strike from beyond the grave.

MY RATING: 4 out of 5 stars

MY THOUGHTS: In Later, Stephen King’s upcoming (March 2, 2021) release from Hard Case Crime, the author returns to that fertile ground he tills so well: a narrator telling us, with more than a little nostalgia, of a horror-touched childhood or adolescence. Jamie Conklin shares a lot of emotional territory with Gordie LaChance and Bill Denbrough, although the landscape of Jamie’s childhood in the not-so-distant-2000’s rather than the 1950s or 60s. Jamie still fills his story with nostalgic nods at television shows, television shows, and New York City neighborhoods. At 22 years old, Jamie is not the published, well-regarded author that LaChance and Denbrough are when we catch them reminiscing about their childhood traumas (and yes, I know, Bill Denbrough doesn’t narrate IT; we’re still closely privy to his thoughts as an adult, as memories come back to him). But even Jamie notices (and this reader did as well) that his writing improves over the course of telling his story, so there’s hope for him yet, especially as the child of a literary agent. And I don’t believe King is done with Jamie Conklin after this book, not by a long shot.

Like Gordie and Bill, Jamie’s life is altered the first time he sees a dead body. Unfortunately, unlike them, he’s only six years old at the time, and he not only sees the body but also the dead man’s mutilated ghost. This is traumatic and formative and when Jamie finally tells us the full details of the event his childhood terror, even through the tinge of reverie, is palpable. Of course, it’s not Jamie’s last encounter with ghosts. Most of the encounters are quick and benign, but it wouldn’t be a King novel if things didn’t get dangerous.

The character acknowledges how like The Sixth Sense this whole set-up is; King has never been shy about wearing his literary and cinematic antecedents on his sleeve and giving inspirational credit where it’s due. But of course, King’s take on “kid seeing dead people” is much darker than Shyamalan’s. For one thing, the ghosts Jamie sees know they are dead, and most of them don’t tend to linger among humanity more than a few days, whether they have unfinished business or not. Which is both good for Jamie and bad, when one spirit decides to stick around longer than the norm.

Unlike the childhood trials of Gordie and Bill, Jamie doesn’t have a cadre of intrepid friends to share the emotional journey and physical dangers with. Classmates are mentioned enough that Jamie isn’t painted as an awkward loner with no social life, but they’re also all off-screen and unimportant to the narrative, grace notes to the main theme. King heavily leans into the stereotype that Gen Z kids would be more likely to record their friend’s “hallucinations” and post them to social media than join in a quest to save the day under the noses of unsuspecting adults. I don’t think this is a completely accurate assessment of that generation, but it works well enough as a plot point keeping other kids off-stage and leaving Jamie only the adults in his life to rely on – adults who, as much as they love him, are unreliable at best and in one case untrustworthy as well. This is yet another thing Jamie has in common with the boys of “The Body” and the Losers’ Club. They couldn’t rely on the adults in their lives either; the key difference being that Jamie is more fully alone in his moments of crisis.

If I have any complaints about the book, they’re minor. I think King really sticks the ending of the book – but then he adds a final reveal that feels a bit tacked on and which I don’t think really adds anything to the overall story or to our understanding of Jamie’s character. I’ll be interested to see if I’m in the minority on this once I get a chance to look at other reviews (which I’ve avoided doing while writing this). I also think this book would have been a better fit with a publisher like Cemetery Dance; the supernatural element is so important and prevalent that it doesn’t really feel like a Hard Case Crime title, which normally lean more towards “regular” crime and psychological horror. This might be the most supernatural book HCC has published (feel free to correct me in the comments if I’m wrong; I haven’t read all 100-ish HCC books yet). Interestingly, when King released his ostensibly “final” Richard Bachman book, Blaze, he said in the foreword that he’d considered placing it with Hard Case Crime but ultimately thought it wouldn’t be a good fit, whereas I think it would have been a perfect HCC title. So what do I know?

Bottom line: Later is a wonderful addition to the “kid sees ghosts, bad shit happens” oeuvre. The kid is endearing, the supernatural threat strong and scary, and the human threats even more so.

I reviewed an advance reading copy provided by the publisher.

Book Review: CALCULATED RISKS

TITLE: Calculated Risks (InCryptid, Book 10)

AUTHOR: Seanan McGuire

448 pages, DAW Books, ISBN 9780756411815 (paperback, also available in e-book and audiobook)

DESCRIPTION: (from the back cover): The tenth book in the fast-paced InCryptid urban fantasy series returns to the mishaps of the Price family, eccentric cryptozoologists who safeguard the world of magical creatures living in secret among humans.

Just when Sarah Zellaby, adopted Price cousin and telepathic ambush predator, thought that things couldn't get worse, she's had to go and prove herself wrong. After being kidnapped and manipulated by her birth family, she has undergone a transformation called an instar, reaching back to her Apocritic origins to metamorphize. While externally the same, she is internally much more powerful, and much more difficult to control.

Even by herself. After years of denial, the fact that she will always be a cuckoo has become impossible to deny.

Now stranded in another dimension with a handful of allies who seem to have no idea who she is--including her cousin Annie and her maybe-boyfriend Artie, both of whom have forgotten their relationship--and a bunch of cuckoos with good reason to want her dead, Sarah must figure out not only how to contend with her situation, but with the new realities of her future. What is she now? Who is she now? Is that person someone she can live with?

And when all is said and done, will she be able to get the people she loves, whether or not they've forgotten her, safely home?

MY RATING: 5 out of 5 stars

MY THOUGHTS: Seanan McGuire’s InCryptid series has always been about family: the ones we’re born into, the ones we build around ourselves, the ones we willingly leave behind. The series’ rotating narrators (mostly the Price siblings, Verity, Alex, and Antimony) spend copious amounts of time ruminating on the joys and tribulations of family life – the expectations, love and support as well as the fights, favoritism, and claustrophobia – when they aren’t hip-deep in battle protecting local Cryptid populations from the Covenant of St. George and other threats (and sometimes even when they are hip-deep in battle with the Covenant and other threats). But I don’t think anyone in the cast has been quite as well placed to talk about losing family as Sarah Zellaby, the narrator of the previous book, Imaginary Numbers, as well as this present installment, Calculated Risks, which releases on February 23rd.

WARNING: Because this is a review of the TENTH book in a series, there will be mild spoilers for previous books. If you haven’t read them yet and don’t want to be spoiled this is your chance to click away from this review.

Sure, other members of the Price clan have been separated from the family. Antimony spent the better part of the three books preceding Imaginary Numbers infiltrating and then on the run from the Covenant (the organization that not only wants to wipe out all Cryptids but also the entire Price-Healey clan), which necessitated staying out of touch to protect her family. Grandma Alice is absent more than she’s present, hopping between dimensions in search of her missing husband. But even when completely out of touch, Antimony and Alice know they still have a family that loves them and misses them. In Calculated Risks, Sarah must deal with beloved cousins who have forgotten her very existence as well as the real possibility that they may never remember who she is nor welcome her back into the fold.

As a supporting character in previous books, Sarah has always fought an internal war between what her genetics tell her to be (a homicidal predatory wasp in human shape) and who her adopted family has taught her to be (a caring and cautious telepath with an endearing love for ketchup and math). Sarah’s race, the Jorhlac (referred to by the Prices as “cuckoos” because of their predilection for leaving their young in the care of unsuspecting humans, with usually disastrous results), are ruthless telepaths who use their powers to control humans and rewrite their memories. Sarah’s adoptive mother and father raised her not to use her telepathy that way, raised her to be mindful of others’ privacy and never take advantage unless it meant saving someone’s life. The nature versus nurture question is writ large across Sarah’s life and in previous books nurture has won out – although barely, in the case of the cliffhanger at the end of Imaginary Numbers that leads directly into the start of Calculated Risks. The questions Sarah has always had about who and what she is mirror what so many of my friends who were adopted have felt (although I’m pretty sure none of them have turned out to be alien wasps in human form). And as Sarah’s powers have grown, so has her struggle. Even though most of that struggle has been seen through the eyes of her cousins, she has still become one of my favorite characters (and in this series, that’s saying a lot). So when Seanan announced that Sarah would finally be the narrator of a book or two, I was both excited and concerned. The narrators of these books always get put through the emotional and physical wringer, and Sarah has already been through so much (for instance, using her powers to rewrite some bad-guys’ memories of the Price clan, a task which shattered Sarah’s mind and left her a shell of herself for a long time – but which also led to her current predicament). Imaginary Numbers pushed her even further, almost shattering her again – and yet, Calculated Risks manages to top even that, by stripping her of her most valuable support system.

Sarah has always depended on her cousins to support her and understand her personality quirks (see the ketchup thing). To have that support torn away so completely and possibly irrevocably – to suddenly be the target of their suspicions, anger, and fear because of what they know of the race she was borne of – is the most devastating emotional abuse the character could suffer. There were moments, especially early in the book, that were downright painful to read and brought tears to my eyes – a testament to how much McGuire has gotten me to love Sarah, but also to just how damned good the author is at writing emotional conflict and internalized pain.

McGuire also show us Sarah’s strength. As much as she’s hurting, she knows she still has to help her cousins, and the unfortunate other humans and cryptids transported with them, to not only survive this new dimension they’ve entered but also to get home. And because her love for those who have forgotten her is more boundless than her greatly expanded powers, she’s willing to die for them if that’s what it takes. Her efforts to get her family to trust her again, even if they don’t remember her, show just how strong and in control of herself Sarah is. Yeah, she could force them to accept her – but she’d never forgive herself if she did.

I realize this review so far makes the book sound like an absolute tear-fest from page one to the end. I promise it is not. This is an InCryptid book. There’s a ton of action as the characters explore, and are threatened by, the new dimension they’re in, and the danger doesn’t just come from the Cuckoos mentioned in the cover copy. The fight scenes are fast and cinematic, the new threats creative and complex. There’s the usual amount of pop culture snark in the dialogue from the usual suspects (mostly Antimony and Sarah this time out), and there are the Required Adorable Scenes featuring the Aeslin mice (I have no doubt the Aeslin would indeed capitalize those words if they were speaking this sentence). There are a number of intriguing character and world-building developments to tee up future books; I’m hesitant to spoil any of them here but I uttered “oh, that should be important” several times.

Of course, I will also not spoil the ending, but I don’t think anyone will be disappointed in it.

There’s also a bonus novella, “Singing the Comic-Con Blues,” which is a flashback to happier days for the characters. The story is a road-caper for Antimony, Sarah, Artie, and Verity that really shows how well and fully these characters love each other (even when they don’t like each other very much in the moment), as well as how Sarah being adopted and not even human was never an issue for anyone in the family. After all the heaviness of the family aspects of the main novel, the novella is a pleasant grace note.

Oh, and DAW, if you’re reading this: since the next book in the series is narrated by Alice, don’t you think it’s about time to bring all of Seanan’s Alice-and-Thomas short stories together in a nice paperback edition? A collection of the Fran-and-Johnnie stories wouldn’t hurt either. I’m quite sure they’d sell well.

NOTE: This review was written based on an electronic ARC received via NetGalley.

Book Review: A SPECTRAL HUE

TITLE: A Spectral Hue

AUTHOR: Craig L. Gidney

215 pages, Word Horde, ISBN 9781939905505 (paperback, also available in e-book)

DESCRIPTION: (from Goodreads): For generations, the marsh-surrounded town of Shimmer, Maryland has played host to a loose movement of African-American artists, all working in different media, but all utilizing the same haunting color. Landscape paintings, trompe l'oeil quilts, decorated dolls, mixed-media assemblages, and more, all featuring the same peculiar hue, a shifting pigment somewhere between purple and pink, the color of the saltmarsh orchid, a rare and indigenous flower.

Graduate student Xavier Wentworth has been drawn to Shimmer, hoping to study the work of artists like quilter Hazel Whitby and landscape painter Shadrach Grayson in detail, having experienced something akin to an epiphany when viewing a Hazel Whitby tapestry as a child. Xavier will find that others, too, have been drawn to Shimmer, called by something more than art, something in the marsh itself, a mysterious, spectral hue.

From Lambda Literary Award-nominated author Craig Laurance Gidney (Sea, Swallow Me & Other Stories, Skin Deep Magic) comes A Spectral Hue, a novel of art, obsession, and the ghosts that haunt us all.

MY RATING: 5 out of 5 stars

MY THOUGHTS: Craig L. Gidney’s A Spectral Hue is a beautifully written novel told from multiple points of view that gives readers time to ruminate on the nature of art and art criticism and the influence both exert over artists and audiences. It’s a slow-burn in the very best ways a story can be. I loved the slow reveal of characters’ pasts and motivations and connections and I didn’t really want the book to end.

A Spectral Hue is told mostly told through the eyes of art history student Xavier Wentworth but also through the points of view of Shimmer resident Iris and museum security guard Lincoln. Each has their own personal and complicated relationship to the art created in Shimmer based partly on their individual pasts and the support they did or didn’t receive from parents and/or siblings. Gidney parcels these histories out (sometimes in internal monologue style, often in clearly defined flashbacks) in tantalizing portions that incrementally build towards a shared connection in which the artists become the art. It’s story-architecture as art, skillfully built so that don’t see the technical underpinnings but feel them all the same.

But in addition to the human characters, there is the mystery of the being who inspires the art to be created – the swamp-dwelling entity personified by the purple-pink pigment of the salt-marsh orchid. There is no doubt from the very beginning of the novel that there is something supernatural going on in the town of Shimmer, something only certain people (people with an artistic bent, whether they recognize it in themselves or not) can see or are affected by. Xavier, Link, and Iris are only the latest in that long line, and Gidney shows us how the influence and movement started by flashing back to the early life of a slave girl named Hazel, the same Hazel Whitby whose art Xavier came to town to study. We meet the spirit entity who calls herself Fuchsia before we meet any of the modern characters, and we begin to see her influence on young Hazel about a quarter of the way through the narrative – but we don’t learn exactly what Fuchsia is until near the end of the novel, and the reveal is worth the wait.

Throughout the novel, Gidney shows us how art can be a prison as much as an escape and how muses can be dominators as much as liberators. All the characters whose art is collected in the Whitby-Grayson museum, and several townsfolk whose art is kept private, experience a sense of stepping from everyday life while they are in the midst of creation – but over time many become obsessed with the creative act to the detriment of meeting their own daily needs for survival. The art traps them in deteriorating minds and bodies. Fuchsia is formless, bodyless muse – but her inspiration moves into the realm of mental, and occasionally physical, dominance, almost forcing these artists to give her what she needs. And Fuchsia herself feels trapped in her role and in a world she should have shifted away from long ago. Many of the moments where it is obvious the artists have lost control of themselves, given themselves over to their inspiration, are uncomfortable.

Art, especially created by those from marginalized or minimalized communities, can be uncomfortable to view, to interact with, to experience, especially for those audience members who come from outside the community (whether because of an interest to learn or to gawk and leer). The art created by the Shimmer movement artists has that effect: tapestries and paintings seem to undulate in the corner of a viewer’s eye, bringing on nausea or dizziness or even fainting spells; dolls seem to be watching or moving even when they’re not. The art in the story matches the art of the story -- there are lots of unnerving scenes, some visceral and some physical, some sensual and some emotional.

One particularly eye-opening moment for me touches on the way museum docents/curators can foster an atmosphere of gatekeeping. What is allowed to be displayed, what is worthy of study/analysis: The clinical approach of the white, college-educated curator of the Whitby-Grayson Museum contrasts with the emotional approach of the black, previously nomadic janitor. The curator’s condescending attitude towards his hired menial staff and the art and artists represented also contrasts with his reaction to the college art history student.

The test, for both the characters in the book and for readers of it, is whether they are willing to work through the discomfort to hear what the artist is saying. A Spectral Hue’s discomfiting moments are worth experiencing to get to the heart and beauty of a story about art forging connections between people who otherwise might never have met and artists’ dichotomous relationship with the art they create.