Holo Writing

Authors Jacob & H.P. Holo

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Reborn as a Vending Machine, Now I Wander the Dungeon, Vol. 1 – Light Novel Review

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We’ve established before that I’ll pick up books for the sheer WTFery of their titles alone.

That said, there was no way I was going to skip Hirukawa’s Reborn as a Vending Machine, Now I Wander the Dungeon, Volume 1 (illustrated by Ituwa Kato). 😄

In Reborn as a Vending Machine, our nameless protagonist is a vending machine enthusiast (yes), who’s crushed to death when he tries to catch a falling vending machine (yes), and wakes up in a fantasy world with the brand new body of … a vending machine (but you guessed that already).

He can’t move on his own. He can only talk in canned vending machine phrases like “Insert coins” or “Get one free with a winner.” And though he can convert money into magical points to fuel himself, he’s in the middle of a forest and running out of power. Fortunately, along comes the adventurer Lammis. She’s a cute, sweet girl, and despite her size, her Blessing of Might allows her to pick him up like it’s nothing and take him to her home settlement – where she and her fellow villagers are fascinated by this new magical item. 😯

And, well, being a vending machine enthusiast in a vending machine’s body, he decides to do the natural thing – and become the best darn vending machine he can possibly be. 😊

I’ve had such hit and miss experiences with light novels that my only real hope for this book was “Please be readable, 😬” so it was a delight to discover that the novel was not only readable, but unexpectedly charming (and followed by Volumes 2 and 3). 😀

I mean, you have to admit there’s something endearing and admirable about a character who wakes up as an inanimate object and goes “Welp, this is my life now. Might as well be good at it.” And as absurd as the setup is, in the context of its own world, it actually works quite well.

Like most isekai (“another world”) stories, this one features a character stat and magic system where characters can take special abilities (here called Blessings) and amass points to level up. This is how Boxxo, as he’s christened by Lammis and the others, gains his Force Field (ever useful when thieves and monsters try to break into him). He also uses his converted points not only to power himself, but to upgrade his vending machine body to become more durable, and to add new items for villagers to buy from him. He has access to any item he bought from a vending machine before he died, and they’re all novelties to the characters in this fantasy setting – not to mention useful. Soon he finds himself being taken on campaigns to feed adventuring parties in the field, being asked to provide unique items to help out in the settlement, and so on.

The story is a simple, almost slice-of-life one (the major problem at the climax is that Boxxo gets stolen and…well, he can’t move on his own) but Boxxo himself carries it with his upbeat characterization and resourcefulness. It’s fun to see how he solves problems by choosing what to offer his customers, and his past life as a vending machine enthusiast is evident in how he chooses the products. (Several sections go into minor detail about the manufacturers of certain products and why said products were designed the way they were.) The direr situations in which he finds himself also require him to think quickly, to determine how to best spend his limited magic points for defensive upgrades, often mid-danger.

The other characters are fun, too, but frankly they’re just anime archetypes, and in fact a lot of the episodic situations of the story follow similar familiar tropes. (There’s a bathhouse scene, naturally. And speaking of such content, some of the illustrations are pretty obviously aimed at readers who like boobs, but the novel itself never gets more scandalous than Boxxo being embarrassed about being in the presence of said boobs.)

All in all, for an isekai fan who’s looking for something light, fun, and just a little different, Reborn as a Vending Machine, Now I Wander the Dungeon, Volume 1 is worth a read. To my own surprise, I’ll be buying the next two volumes, because familiar as it may be, there’s something just that delightful about the story of little vending machine that could. 😊

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Empire of Silence – Book Review

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I finished reading Empire of Silence a little over a year ago, but it was one of those books that I enjoyed so much, my only reaction at the time was *excited pterodactyl noises.*

(Admittedly, I don’t actually know what an excited pterodactyl sounds like, nor what sort of noise it would make after discovering a new favorite book, but I imagine it would be something like the distinctive gibberish that screeches out of my mouth every time this happens.)

Anyway, now that I’ve had the time to articulate that noise into human words, here goes.

Christopher Ruocchio’s Empire of Silence is an epic space opera that reads like Frank Herbert’s Dune, if Dune were set in Space Rome and if its writing wasn’t as dry as its setting. It follows the young life of Hadrian Marlowe, heir to the Sollan Empire—which, if he is to follow in the footsteps of his father (and under the powerful influence of the Chantry), involves becoming a ruler who maintains his power through fear and torture. Not wanting to rule through atrocity, Hadrian makes an elaborate plan to escape—but his plan goes awry, and while he successfully escapes his future, he tumbles into a life of poverty and violence harsher than anything he’s ever known. And even when he manages to pull himself out of that, it’s into a world of intrigue that’s even more complex than the empire he escaped from…and which points toward even darker ends.

After all, one doesn’t get named “the Sun Eater” without good reason.

This, of course, is a vast oversimplification of everything that takes place in this massive 624-page tome, but that doesn’t matter because, if you like deeply complex epic science fiction, you’re going to read it anyway.

Before you go in, though, you should know it’s not a fast read.

Empire of Silence is a novel that is as much about the inner workings of its world as it is Hadrian’s struggle, and it’s written in a way that asks the reader to savor the world. This is a setting so wildly advanced that social class is defined not only by economic opportunity, but through access to technology and genetic modifications, where the upper classes lean so heavily into artificial modification that they can no longer procreate naturally lest they produce a child with birth defects. Through this (and other details), the novel asks a lot of interesting questions about the future societal implications of extreme human modification. Granted, it’s all peripheral to the heart of Hadrian’s story, but it’s still deeply intriguing.

Just as intriguing, Hadrian’s is also a world where access to specific technologies and even to the depths of human history is regulated by the quasi-religious Chantry, which keeps a stranglehold on even the ruling families of the Sollan Empire and isn’t above using truly medieval techniques to enforce its will (and the ignorance of the people beneath its power). Yet, outside the power of the Chantry and Sollan Empire, there are multifarious other cultures that indulge in these banned technologies and explore those histories. Not to mention the truly otherworldly alien species that show up. Because of this sheer variety—and the inherent conflicts it causes—this is one of the few modern epic sci-fi worlds that actually lives up to the “epic” descriptor. The violence is epic, sure, but so is the sheer sense of scale and wonder that emanates from the page. The contrasts between all these human and alien cultures—and what they show Hadrian about himself and his home empire—make for engrossing reading.

Just not fast reading.

There were indeed moments where I wondered where exactly the story thought it was going—but those moments were immediately dismissed because even when the plot was slow, the artful writing kept me absolutely entranced. I’d almost call this novel literary fiction, except that where most literary writing is merely pretentious, Ruocchio’s writing features frequent gems of unexpected, genuine wisdom. There were more than a few moments where I had to stop reading just to admire a specific turn of phrase or the clever perceptiveness of a single line.

But of course, artful writing—and even an artfully-realized world—is worthless if the characters that inhabit it aren’t interesting, and Hadrian himself is definitely that, though for reasons one might not expect.

Hadrian’s story is a bildungsroman told in the framed style of Patrick Rothfuss’ The Name of The Wind, to draw another popular comparison. Protagonists in these kinds of stories often come across as too-capable or too-perfect (as Kvothe does in NOTW), but if anything, Hadrian is the opposite. While he has his kick-butt, heroic moments, and while he’s certainly capable in his own ways, many of his problems are, in fact, caused by himself. Whether it’s a plan going awry for reasons he should have anticipated, the result of a badly-timed impulse, or some ill-considered curiosity, Hadrian frequently becomes his own worst enemy—and yet does it in a way that keeps the reader rooting for him. Reading about Hadrian’s adventures is very much like watching the exploits of a well-intentioned but occasionally dumb little brother, who you genuinely like but sometimes want to smack in the back of the head. He’s definitely a flawed character, but flawed in the best way. After all, as much as readers enjoy a good, straightforward hero, they do get boring after a while, and even when Hadrian gets himself into stupid situations, they’re situations that make sense in the context of his established character—and, importantly, are fun to read as he works his way out of them. (Or deeper into them. It’s Hadrian, after all.)

However, there are elements of Hadrian’s character that might grate some readers. He’s pretty clearly the sensitive, artsy son in a family that values ferocious jocks (okay, gladiators, but same idea), which inches toward cliché. Also, at its simplest, his struggle is that of the Poor Little Rich Boy feeling oppressed by the responsibilities of his privilege, which is a hard struggle for some readers to take seriously. But also, like…if the unavoidable trappings of my future required me to turn into a despotic trash can of a human being, I’d nope the heck out of there, too. All that said, a reader’s mileage with Hadrian’s story is going to hinge on how much patience they have with his character (and with the storytelling style in general).

But like many things that require patience, this novel is entirely worth it. Eloquently written, exquisitely detailed, and epic in every sense of the word, Empire of Silence deserves to be a new sci-fi classic.

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Men Hunting Things – Book Review

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I picked up David Drake’s Men Hunting Things anthology for its amusingly frank title and, as has been a trend as of late, ended up finding a new favorite anthology. 😀 

Its straightforward title belies a book of unexpected variety and complexity.

While some of the stories are simple and hilarious (Wilson Tucker’s “Gentlemen, The Queen!”), others offer a deep and often unsettling look at the psychologies of hunter and hunted, and frequently question which is actually the animal (or monster) in the story – the literal target, or the one hunting that target (or commissioning the hunt, in the case of Robert Silverberg’s “The Day The Monsters Broke Loose.”)  

There’s a great diversity of story types, too, from the hard sci-fi of Clifford D. Simak’s “Good Night, Mr. James” and Eric Frank Russell’s “Mechanical Mice” to the moody Victorian-style horror of Alister McAllister’s “The Hunting on the Doonagh Bog” to the downright dystopia of Henry Kuttner’s “Home is the Hunter.”

I name these as standouts, but honestly there’s not a bad story in the bunch. If you’re looking for an anthology that balances the fun with the deep and hard sci-fi with the light, give it a try!

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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

Discarded – Book Review

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Never underestimate the power of a good title, y’all. I read this entirely because its series name was Dumpstermancer – and ended up finding a surprise favorite.

In Discarded (Dumpstermancer #1) by Michael J. Allen, talented spell architect Elias Graham has just been released from a hellish magical prison, having served a sentence of 100 years. For a crime he didn’t commit. After he was framed by his closest friends.

And all he’d wanted to do was use his magic to help people.

Now, barred by law from using magic and without a friend in the world, Eli’s only option is to live on the streets. Still bitter from the betrayal, he only wants to go as unnoticed and unbothered as possible – but the magical forces around him have other plans. Thoth Corp, the magic-dealing corporation he helped build, has been secretly turning people into monsters, and the local fey – long thought extinct – need his help before those monsters wipe them out.

But Eli is the most unwilling of heroes…

Simply put, Discarded is unlike any fantasy I’ve ever read, urban or otherwise.

In a genre where most heroes are gung ho for their adventure (even if they take some convincing to start it) and are usually sent off with some kind of aid or magic weapon, Eli stands out as a character who doesn’t want to leave his alley and starts out with literally nothing of use, not even access to his own magical ability. He’s as vulnerable as any other homeless person struggling to survive on the scraps of society, and it is from this that the novel’s strength is derived.

That its protagonist is homeless already makes Discarded stand out from other fantasy novels, but the brunt of its strength is in how brutally and vividly realized Eli’s homelessness is. He isn’t the sort of character who overcomes challenges easily Because He’s The Main Character. He’s the sort of character for whom staying warm, sheltered, and fed is a struggle on top of his magical struggles. When the author describes the conditions he faces, the reader can feel the cold in his alley and fear the results of a nearby woman’s misunderstood scream, and enough of those conditions go wrong for him that the reader has no confidence that he’ll succeed, or succeed in the way he wants to. (Especially considering that the forces that worked to frame him in the first place are still actively working against him.) All this combined makes the book intensely suspenseful – and that’s even before you consider the magical plotline.

Speaking of which, the magic of this setting is fascinating. This is a modern setting parallel to our own where magic has been (mostly) tamed and franchised, where even non-magically-talented people can buy spell boards and components at the magical equivalent of the Apple Store and use them to do any number of petty miscellaneous things. It’s a setting where “mananets” convey magic with the same efficiency of electrical lines – which are still present in this world, as magic and technology coexist, if a bit awkwardly. (Eli holds that magic is just science that hasn’t been figured out yet, but many in the setting view the two as naturally separate.) Eli himself was once at the center of this magical boom, being one of the founders of magical super-franchise Thoth Corp, and this forms another huge part of his character.

Eli could be a hard character to like. He’s an intensely bitter person, and so stubborn about it that he refuses help from even well-meaning people. Some of this comes down to pride – even homeless, he holds himself to a high standard of self-sufficiency – but much of it comes down to the fact that he was so thoroughly betrayed before the story started. After all, his forays into magic began because he wanted to help people with it, until his companions decided to take his company on a more duplicitous, careless route and got rid of him in such an extreme way that it resulted in him spending the equivalent of a century in a magical prison known as The Wasteland, where his punishment was to simply suffer other prisoners in a desert with limited resources. His soul is so scarred by the horrible depth of those circumstances that he sees no point in going out of his way to do any form of good, if there’s a chance it could result in that.

And so while the reader might sometimes be frustrated by his obstinance, the reader also completely understands why it’s there, and this makes him a lot more sympathetic than he would be otherwise.

The fey characters merit a mention, too, for while they are the creatures of fairy tales, they’re not the nice Victorian ones. These fey are straight out of folklore, manipulative with their own codes of etiquette and honor, and while these characters are likable – and essential, in that they force Eli to join his own story – they pose threats to his well-being just as often as they offer boons, and are as much responsible for the story’s tension as they are its victories.

If I were to complain about anything in this book, it’s that there are enough typographical errors to notice, but they read more like the uncaught artifacts of dictation software than lack of skill, and they weren’t distracting enough to detract from the story. (And honestly the only reason I’m mentioning this is because I feel like I should have at least one negative thing to say in this review, lest it read like the unbalanced gushing of an unabashed fangirl. Plus, given the rest of the review, it’s not like the author’s skill is in question.)

In short, read this book. Urban fantasy readers will find a vividly realized world with all the magical quirks and suspense that they know and love, while non-fantasy readers will find an unexpectedly earnest look at the practical struggles of homeless life. Discarded is easily one of the best books I’ve read this year, and absolutely recommended.

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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

Grave Mercy – Book Review

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Nun assassins, y’all.

I’m not sure why the marketing didn’t just splash that all over the front of Grave Mercy, as once I heard that description, I was all over this book.

For those who need more, here is the description from the book itself:

Escaping from the brutality of an arranged marriage, seventeen-year-old Ismae finds sanctuary at the convent of St. Mortain, where the sisters still serve the gods of old. Here she learns that the god of Death himself has blessed her with dangerous gifts—and a violent destiny. If she chooses to stay at the convent, she will be trained as an assassin and serve as a handmaiden to Death. To claim her new life, she must be willing to take the lives of others.

Ismae’s most important assignment takes her straight into the high court of Brittany, where she must pose as mistress to the darkly mysterious Gavriel Duval, who has fallen under a cloud of suspicion. Once there, she finds herself woefully under prepared—not only for the deadly games of love and intrigue, but for the impossible choices she must make. For how can she deliver Death’s vengeance upon a target who, against her will, has stolen her heart?

Grave Mercy by Robin LaFevers, the first in the His Fair Assassin trilogy, is possibly one of the finest kick-butt-girl-assassin books out there. It’s high on action, drama, strong-but-not-stereotypical heroines, and lack-of-love-triangles—and the one romance that it does develop emerges slowly and believably. Add it to your reading list now, but if you need more reasons why you should, read on:

Despite its length (a hefty 549 pages), Grave Mercy is an astonishingly quick read. The chapters are short and nearly always end with a cliffhanger or similarly intriguing bit of information. The plot itself, too, carefully balances the machinations of court drama with the violent clashes that readers expect of assassin books, so there’s literally never a slow moment.

For some readers, though, the opening will be slightly frustrating. Ismae herself doesn’t become an interesting character until she goes to court. Until then, she strikes me as someone who would be a real downer at parties. Pretty much every emotion she has is serious, begrudging, and usually made in relation to her abilities and position as an assassin for Saint Mortain. She also begins with a nasty man-hating streak that I found exaggerated at best, grating at worst—but I suppose if my only interactions with men consisted of an abusive father and husband, I probably wouldn’t like men, either. Still, it does read like a tiny tumblr rant when she ponders using her finely honed Saint-given assassination skills to kill a man who groped her in a tavern.

Once she reaches court, however, she blossoms as a character. She finds that she’s not as equipped for the job as she thought she was, but even so, learns to handle her inadequacies with competence, and never lets her insecurities get the better of her. When faced with a problem, she never whines about it; she finds a way to overcome it, which is not only admirable but far less exhausting to read. Truly, she faces so many challenges in each chapter that she can’t risk stopping. I’m pretty sure that if she’d stopped to whine, she’d have missed pivotal plot information. The novel moves that quickly, and the stakes are that high.

Though I read the book for its assassin action, I was pleasantly surprised by the tension of the court scenes, too. There’s a whole ton of political mess going on in this setting—France is threatening invasion, the twelve-year-old Duchess of Brittany needs armies to defend the duchy, and the main way she’ll be able to secure those armies is accepting one of any number of marriage offers, the most militarily promising of which is to a total scumbag. She knows there are traitors about in the court, loyal to either the French or to the scumbag, but she doesn’t know who they are, and the novel is written so that nearly everyone’s allegiance is called into question at one point or another. Ismae is determined to weed out the traitors, but this is where her failings challenge her. She can spy, of course, but over half of spying at court is done through sneaky, clever interpersonal relations, and Ismae’s social skills sometimes risk jeopardizing her goals. She also doesn’t know if she can trust the people she’s chosen to ally with, which adds a further layer of tension—especially when she falls in love with one of them.

This brings me to another of the novel’s strong points. The romance that buds between Ismae and Duval is a refreshing one. Never does it become a focus of the novel—both characters acknowledge that they have more important things to do than be all lovey-dovey—but when it hits, it hits hard, to great suspenseful effect. The last quarter of the novel is intense anyway, but the tension introduced by the romance makes it better. That the romance is introduced gradually, and as a byproduct of the two working together to save the duchy makes it even better, as does the fact that it is largely a positive relationship, despite its politically-motivated bumps.

That romance actually reminded of the slow romances between Seraphina and Kiggs in Seraphina and Katsa and Po in Graceling. Similarly, Ismae’s relationship with the young duchess reminded me of Katsa’s with Bitterblue, and the mental sharpness of the duchess reminded me of Seraphina’s Princess Gliselda. And when a book can draw comparisons with not one, but two of my favorites, it’s an excellent thing.

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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus: Beginnings – Book Review

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Um, bookish library wizards, snarky witch dudes, and talking cats? Sign me up!

Actually, the talking cat doesn’t show up until Book 2, but that’s all the more reason to read Book 1 – to get to Book 2 faster. Of course, there are plenty of other reasons, too. 😉

In Lydia Sherrer’s Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus: Beginnings (The Lily Singer Adventures #1), Lily Singer is a no-nonsense wizard—yes, wizard—who would rather spend time in the secret magical library archives under Agnes Scott College than getting up to any actual adventures. Unfortunately for her, her friend Sebastian Blackwell is a witch—yes, witch—who is, if not all nonsense, at least nonsense enough to elicit frequent eye-rolls from Lily while still roping her into his latest magical misadventure.

Beginnings chronicles three such adventures which, though written like a collection of novellas more so than a singular novel, thread together to provide fun, fascinating looks at these two characters and their world. The plots are eclectic and often unpredictable—one an emotionally complicated ghost story, another a dangerous gang-related conflict (but still mostly clean enough to stay within the realm of a cozy read), and the last a heart-wrenching tale of mysterious time loops and dangerous family heirlooms.

Lily and Sebastian’s interactions, however, are the essential glue that holds the plots together. The two are polar opposite character types—Lily serious and pedantic to a fault, Sebastian the carefree, infuriating charmer—but their strengths and flaws balance each other out in such a way that they read like an inseparable pair that will probably end up married through the paradoxical unifying power of amused exasperation. Each character hides their own secrets and struggles, too, though. Lily is perpetually bothered by how much of her family’s wizard history was—and still is—hidden from her, and despite his relaxed, appealing demeanor, Sebastian is estranged from his magical family for reasons that aren’t immediately clear to Lily. The mysteries surrounding these characters alone are enough to make me curious to read more of the series.

The magic systems involved are equally intriguing, as Lily and Sebastian use two distinct forms of magic, and they complement each other in unexpected ways.

The magic that defines Lily’s wizardry is derived from a source known, pragmatically, as the Source, and isn’t cast so much as carefully wrangled through clever combinations of runes, artifacts, the user’s will, and a magical ancient language known as Enkinem. Wizard magic itself is likely one of the reasons why Lily is so strict and scholarly; it’s not magic that can be flung about carelessly. It’s magic that has to be studied and meticulously implemented, lest its effects go horribly wrong.

Sebastian’s witchery, meanwhile, derives from the fact that he can see and interact with fey and, more specifically, knows how to trade with them to earn their magical favor. It’s magic that requires charisma, which in turn is one of the reasons why he’s such a mischievous, charismatic character himself. His magical survival requires it. Additionally, when he comes to Lily for help, it’s not only to pester her (though that’s one reason); it’s because her particular type of magic is better suited to certain challenges than his, simply because of the structural differences between the two.

(The magic systems aren’t gendered, by the way, as the book emphasizes early on. Wizards study; witches make deals with the fey; and those are the only relevant separations.)

In short, the complexities of these magic systems are one of the coolest parts of the book, but ultimately it’s a book that hinges on the amusing interplay between its two leads and the surprising complexities of even its minor characters. If you’re looking for a for a cozy, sassy fantasy that puts the smart in smart aleck, Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus: Beginnings is a good place to start. 😄

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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

The Kidnap Plot – Book Review

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One of the benefits of having an overwhelmingly huge and ever-growing book pile is that sometimes, when you get bored, you can just dig to the bottom to see what’s been hiding there, and sometimes, you find little treasures you’d completely forgotten about.

This is one of those.

I happened upon Dave Butler’s The Kidnap Plot (The Extraordinary Journeys of Clockwork Charlie #1) several years ago after a particularly memorable LibertyCon panel which was supposed to be about The Best New YA Books…but, given that none of us had actually read any new YA books that year, ended up being about awesome YA in general (and also ended up being one of the most fun panels at that convention). This has nothing to do with the book, except that fellow panelist Butler was giving out copies at the end, and like heck am I gonna turn down any free steampunk reading, especially when the cover is as adorable as this:

Plus, in the con-less semi-apocalyptic landscape that is 2020, it’s nice to reflect on con memories, and that panel was one of my favorites.

The London of The Kidnap Plot is one soaked in steam and coated in grease, where airships dominate the sky and beneath them live overlapping cultures of humans, pixies, trolls, kobolds, shape-changers…and Charlie Pondicherry and his Bap. Charlie’s father runs Pondicherry’s Clockwork Invention and Repair, and never allows Charlie to venture far from it. But when his Bap is kidnapped by the aptly-named Sinister Man and his cronies, Charlie will have to venture further than he’s ever gone to rescue him–and in doing so, uncovers a plot that threatens Queen Victoria herself.

If you’re in the mood for a charming middle grade steampunk adventure with a whimsical storybook quality, The Kidnap Plot is it. Though some elements toward the end might seem overly familiar to anyone who consumes lots of steampunk, the characters that surround those elements are fun enough that I didn’t care (and frankly made me want to re-read/watch the stories it reminded me of, so win-win).

It’s the unfamiliar parts that make the book shine, anyway. Charlie’s is a setting where educated trolls can be lawyers, pixie duchesses-to-be can be their assistants, and kobolds help out in inventing shops. The aforementioned Grim Grumblesson, Natalie De Minimis, and Henry Clockswain join the ambitious chimney sweeps/potential aeronauts Oliver Chattelsworthy and Heaven-Bound Bob to shape the eclectic party that helps Charlie recover his dad. (Special second mention for Heaven-Bound Bob because I think his name is extra-fun to say.) It’s a large cast for such a comparatively simplistic rescue story, but the characters play off each other’s strengths and weaknesses with panache in such a way that much of the fun of the novel is not in seeing the characters succeed, but wondering what clever, audacious things they’ll have to do to get out of their absurd situations, which often have no obvious solution.

More than once, I actually started thinking of these twists and turns in terms of a Dungeons & Dragons campaign, since so many of their challenges are complicated by the fact that one of them is super tiny, one is a big ol’ troll, and other such race-specific details. I doubt that was the author’s intent, but frankly now that I think of it, I’m totally down for a Clockwork Charlie RPG.

All in all, rip-roaring adventure and fun characters make The Kidnap Plot a delightful, exciting read. If you like whimsical steampunk stories, give it a try!

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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

Xenotech Rising – Book Review

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If The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy meets The Office is a phrase that makes you want to fling all your money at whatever inspired it – well, grab your wallet. 😀

In Dave Schroeder’s Xenotech Rising (Xenotech Support #1), first contact has been made in the form of aliens teleporting straight into the office of JP Morgan Chase and offering Earth a space in the Galactic Free Trade Association. Now, fifteen years later, Earth is bonkers with hyper-advanced alien technology, and when that tech breaks (or, more likely, when the user does something stupid to it), someone’s gotta fix it. 

Enter Jack Buckston. As the head of Xenotech Support Corporation, he’s the guy to call when alien tech goes weird. Little does he know that what starts as a simple fix-it might tangle him in a plot that threatens Earth’s new place in the universe…

Okay, there are two things you need to know about this book going in: 1) Xenotech Rising is a sci-fi comedy, and 2) a lot of that comedy hinges on puns, dad joke humor, and geek references. Jack’s very first job in the book involves fixing an issue with “rabbot” lawn mowers that are replicating like rabbits at an organization called Widget Tech & Fabrication (or, WT&F). If that alone made you groan, you can put your wallet away now and go read something about taxes or whatever it is humorless pun-haters like to read about. Meanwhile those of us who thrive on silly wordplay will find a smorgasbord of nourishment here.

Even so, there’s more to the humor than puns. Xenotech’s is a setting in which one of Earth’s biggest exports is government session broadcasts repackaged as reality TV shows, and they’re so profitable that the most…erm…entertaining congresses have added extra chambers and extended sessions to maximize their on-screen time and profits. And even though Delta American Air-Space is first introduced as “the D’Am Company,” that introduction is immediately followed by a look at how airline travel even managed to remain A Thing in a universe where teleportation is also A Thing – and it all comes down to economics. Though it’s certainly a source of humor, the galactic economy is an elaborately imagined and genuinely intelligent part of this world.

Of course, with alien tech comes alien civilization, and the aliens in this novel are equally imaginative. They range from the Murm, which are tiny intelligent beetles with even tinier wormholes in their heads that allow their hivemind to communicate across galaxies (whew!), to the Dauushans, which are six-legged elephantine centaurs with three trunks that have three more trunks, which grant them the mobility they need to be one of the most high tech civilizations in the setting, despite their clumsy bulk (whewwww!). These don’t even scratch the tip of the iceberg as Xenotech’s alien races are concerned, and the unique characteristics of these races often shape the story in such a way that they’re inseparable from it.

The cast of characters is infinitely likeable, too. Jack is a regular guy who just wants to finish his jobs without some idiot getting in the way (so, relatable for anyone who works with the public). He’s also a perfect, if awkward gentleman to Poly, his tech- and disaster-savvy maybe-hopefully-girlfriend. Most notable to me, though, is Terrhi, a young Dauushan who, despite being one of the least human-looking and potentially least relatable of the alien species, ends up being one of the single most adorable characters I’ve ever read – and plays more of a role in the story than one would initially expect.

Most criticism that I have comes down to personal taste: 

Its opening is slow-paced enough that it took several chapters for me to realize where the story was even going – but once the threads began to come together, I realized that everything had actually been set up from the very first chapter, which made the eventual “Aha!” moment that much more fun. 😀 Similarly, part of the climax goes long and seems to amount to “Well, it would be a waste to have an immersive virtual reality company in this book and not have an extended virtual reality video game battle, so…here’s some of that.” Still, even though it doesn’t contribute a whole lot to the plot, it’s still fun to read (even if some of its puns are shoehorned in way too hard, even for a book defined by puns). 

The closest thing I have to a real complaint is that Poly’s insistent romantic advances on Jack become a little tiring. On the one hand, it’s refreshing to read a relationship in which the woman is the initiator. On the other, there was more than one scene in which I went, “Dang girl, he said no! How much clearer can he be?” 😐 It’s played mostly for humor, though, to accentuate the gentleman that Jack is, and ultimately the positives in their relationship outweigh this one small negative.

All this to say, if you’re in the mood for self-consciously dorky humor and unexpectedly complex sci-fi comedy, you’d do well to pick up Xenotech Rising. 😄

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Halfway Dead – Book Review

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halfwaydeadIf the tagline “Come for the waffles. Stay for the magic.” doesn’t grab you by the throat and plunge your eyeballs straight into Terry Maggert’s Halfway Dead then you, my friend…well, probably haven’t met the right waffle. Which is all the more reason to visit the good witch Carlie at the diner in Halfway.
Halfway is a town in the Adirondack Mountains “exactly halfway in the middle of something,” a liminal space that’s equal parts “tourist destination, pit stop for travelers, and a repository of more things magical than I care to think about” – which is why protagonist Carlie McEwan frequently finds herself occupied with the mysterious hidden world around this cozy town. Strange forces have begun to stir in Halfway Dead. When a dumb YouTuber gets himself lost in the unforgiving mountain terrain, he unwittingly stumbles upon one of the last surviving groves of American Chestnut trees, thus setting off a race to find the trees…which happen to be sitting upon an area rife with dark, dangerous magic, and home to an equally dark mystery in Carlie’s family history. Aided by a mysterious investigator and a vampire Viking hermit, she must venture into the woods to stop this magic – before it kills (again).
I knew I was going to like Halfway Dead the moment I picked it up – I mean, waffles and magic, what more could a girl ask for? – but I ended up surprised by the specific ways in which I liked it. Frankly, the plot was the least interesting thing about it – not because it wasn’t interesting, but rather because the world and characters surrounding it were that much more interesting. More than the quirky magical adventure that the tagline led me to expect, Halfway Dead reads like a love letter to the beauties and dangers of the Adirondack Mountains. This is heightened by the fact that Carlie’s magic is nature-based, equally as beautiful and equally as dangerous as the natural world from which it derives. The book is also clear that Carlie is not a storybook witch or a stereotype (“I’m a witch. A real one, not some amateur who reads things on the Internet and likes to dress up.”), and while I don’t know enough about the practices of modern witches to comment on the accuracy of the depiction, the practical, down-to-earth way in which her magic is presented has the depth of research-based writing. Maggert’s descriptions of Carlie’s magic are simply wonderful, with thoughtful attention to detail that ultimately builds to Carlie’s own evaluation of her skill (“For now, I treat my magic like a new pair of shoes. Someday we’re going to love each other, but for now we’re just trying to fit together comfortably”) and her treatment of both nature and things in general (“I take care of my things, because they return the favor”).
I could easily see a modern witch practicing in the same way that Carlie does (albeit without the same magical clout), and this is one of the hinges upon which the book rests.
The other hinge is the town of Halfway itself, and the mountains surrounding. Halfway is unique among fictional mountain towns in that it’s not a Deliverance-inspired backwater, but a cozy town where everyone knows everyone, the locals are charming, where Carlie’s magic is known and appreciated (though not by all and not entirely fathomed even by those), and its only real limitation (or perhaps one of its greatest strengths) is its sheer distance from everything else.
I’d go to the Hawthorn Diner to try Carlie’s waffles as much as I would to hear of Tammy Cincotti’s dating conquests, take tea with Carlie’s classy, fearsome Gran, or just to hear the servers talk their special brand of diner pidgin that names a half stack of pancakes after the shortest member of the staff and somehow makes raisin bread appealing by rechristening it “bug toast.” I would eat bug toast here until Carlie had to magic up a spell to roll me out. The town is a homey point of pleasantry buried deep in a mountain range that, despite its wondrous beauty, does not give a slice of bug toast whether the people hiking it live or die, and that’s even before one considers the magical forces at work in it.
A side note: One can’t fully appreciate this book without having some appreciation for the Adirondacks themselves – or really, any vast swath of wilderness largely untouched by human presence. To that effect, if you like to read books in themed clusters, Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods pairs excellently with Halfway Dead, both because of its similarly reverent sense of wonder and terror toward the woods and because it provides historical context that enhances certain parts of this novel. Halfway Dead clearly establishes that the pivotal American Chestnuts are severely endangered, the species nearly wiped out during a blight in the early 1900s, but a later read of A Walk in the Woods took my reaction from “Ok, so they found some chestnuts” to “HOLY SH** THEY FOUND AMERICAN CHESTNUTS! 😀 😀 :D” Plus it’s just a good read for people who like the idea of hiking but not the inconvenience of probably being eaten by bears in the isolated wilderness. But I digress.
If I were to fault Halfway Dead for anything, it would be how complicated the plot becomes at points. There are lots of characters and lots of different motivations circling around every facet of the conflict, from people who want to protect the pivotal American Chestnuts, to people who want to exploit the Chestnuts (both independently of the magical storyline), to Carlie’s family history surrounding that grove, to the aforementioned Viking vampire, who has his own complicated reasons for being in the woods in the first place, to the dark force at the center of it all, which has origins the reader never would have expected at the beginning of the novel. It all comes together nicely in the end, but until the reader reaches the end, it sometimes makes for a disjointed first read as one wonders why exactly the novel focuses on this new character or that new detail without a reason that’s apparent in the moment. (On the flipside, though, it makes the second read-through that much more entertaining.)
That said, its plot pretzel can be a bit exhausting – but the world in which that pretzel was tangling was so appealing that, in the end, it barely diminished the reading experience. If you’re looking for a cozy contemporary fantasy with just a twist of darkness, and a waffle-slinging witch who wrangles it all with panache, Halfway Dead is a must-read.
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Con Me Once – Book Review

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conmeonceRauch and Frank are two down-on-their-luck roommates who just want better lives – Rauch for the two of them, Frank for other people. It’s why, when Frank isn’t working at the local comic shop, he prowls the streets as the costumed hero Lambda Man, using homemade tools to do whatever small good he can around his rough Philadelphia neighborhood, whether chasing purse snatchers or driving pimps out of town. It’s why Rauch runs small errands for the mob, using those desperate acts to pull himself out of an even more desperate situation – but when he accidentally bungles a hit, he finds himself desperate to escape that world, too.
Both get their chance when a mysterious woman named Keira shows up with an offer: Join Heroes2B, Inc. Train to become a real hero. Complete one job at Las Vegas Comic Con. After that, they’ll have all they need to get out. The offer may not be what it seems – Rauch suspects it, even if Frank doesn’t – but it’s their one good chance to disappear, and neither wants to let it pass.
J.L. Delozier’s Con Me Once combines the fun of Marvel with the darkness of DC and the mafia drama of Scorsese. It’s a strange, unexpected combination (especially in light of Scorsese’s recent comments), but Delozier pulls it off in a similarly unexpected manner.
First, one should know going in that it’s not a comic book story so much as a colorful drama set in the trappings of several different cons, comic and otherwise. Keira, we learn, has the financial resources to support a truly awesome training ground for her heroes, complete with her own tech guru and local convention celebrity, Pinball – a Samuel L. Jackson lookalike whose inventions are as wildly inspired as the comics that did inspire them. Keira’s other recruits are similarly colorful. Ruletka, the unofficial leader of the group, is as serious a hero as the Russian Roulette from which his name derives, but is also really into baking and general hospitality, and the final member, Deliverance, is a hyperactive gunslinger on a mission from God who looks like a combination of Howdy Doody and Chucky.
Despite the motley setup, lighthearted comedy this is not. Comic trappings aside, the novel takes an unexpectedly down-to-earth approach to the heroism, motivations, and psychology of its heroes-to-be and the woman who assembles them. One of Frank’s formative traumas, for example, gave him a perpetual terror of movie theaters that borders on PTSD – which becomes a problem when a spontaneous movie theater crisis requires his heroism. For Ruletka, costumed heroism is a way to overcome the darkness of his past, but in the specific case of Heroes2B – and its incentives – it’s also a way for him to complete his physical transition to male. Frank is gay and Rauch is bi, but in addition to the typical stresses of working for the mafia, Rauch in particular has to put up with harassment about his sexuality from the soldiers above him – this in addition to worrying about Frank, who is not as cautious as Rauch himself, and is so eager to join up with Keira and do some good through Heroes2B that he doesn’t even consider the possibility that the opportunity might not be what he thinks it is. Then there’s Deliverance, who might actually be insane, though as yet untreated, and when one considers that Keira is a psychologist pitching Heroes2B as a study for her doctoral degree – and thus, you know, someone who should be concerned about that – suddenly her offer looks a lot less like the stuff of comic con….and much more the stuff of an actual con.
It’s still more comic book action than psychological thriller, though. The book starts with a wrenching murder and, though it takes short breaks to set up its vivid characters and setting, its momentum carries right through to a blockbuster ending that wouldn’t be out of place in any comic shop offerings. Even so, it’s more likely to be enjoyed by thriller fans who like comics, as opposed to comics fans in general. The novel name-drops a lot of fan-favorite references, and comic culture is central to the novel’s characters and conflicts, but it’s not a novel about comics culture, which means that if you go in expecting a love letter to comic cons, you’re going to be disappointed. (Even the climactic comic con is only a small part of the climax.)
References aside, the book’s true comic book spirit is found in its fast pacing, colorful characters and scenarios, and high action. That it was able to fit all this into a mostly believable situation and balance it with realistic drama makes it that much more entertaining.
If I were to fault it for anything, it would be that it doesn’t lean hard enough into its psychological aspects. Granted, the book wasn’t meant to be a hard-hitting psychoanalysis of its characters, but the story sets up the potential for truly intriguing backstories and then only goes into a few of them. I would have particularly liked to see what shaped Ruletka and Deliverance into the people they became before the story started – but then again, this was Frank and Rauch’s story, not theirs. And when it comes down to it, Keira’s own psychology background is just a door she opens to reach a different, completely unrelated goal. My only other complaint is that the actual conclusion comes so quickly relative to the action-packed climax that reading it feels like whiplash, and because of that speed, certain elements of the end (avoiding spoilers) don’t really have time to settle in.
Overall, though, Con Me Once is a fun, fast-paced, and unexpected blend of comic book mayhem and criminal drama.
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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.
Also Note: I received an ARC copy from the author in exchange for an honest review.

Redline – Anime Review

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While watching Promare’s spectacular animation, I was reminded quite a bit of Redline, and then when writing my Promare review, I realized I’d never actually reviewed Redline. So I’m here to remedy that.

Redline is a 2009 anime that follows the gloriously pompadoured Sweet JP as he and his Trans Am compete to win the titular race. Trouble is, he’s racing against a horde of drivers with wildly tricked-out vehicles that frequently include missiles and other ridiculousness as standard gear. And they’re all racing against the government of Roboworld, which doesn’t want them on its planet and won’t hesitate to unleash its full arsenal to stop them.

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For viewer purposes, though, the plot is “VROOM VROOM DRIVE FAST” because this isn’t a movie you watch for plot. This is a movie you watch for its achievement – a completely hand-drawn animated feature film by a first time director who, through it, has already made his masterpiece. Redline took seven years to complete, and every second of it shows.

These days, with our glut of committee-produced CG animation franchises, it’s easy to forget that animation is indeed an art form capable of depicting motion and emotion in ways live action or even photorealistic CG can’t even approach. It’s hard not to look at the work of, say, Richard Williams, once you’ve picked your jaw up off the floor, and say “GOD. An actual human hand-drew all the pictures necessary to create that.” In Japan, Masaaki Yuasa’s work attains the same level of sheer detailed, exuberant weirdness, and Redline’s Takeshi Koike is also in that boat.

Redline’s basic design is a joy to behold. It’s bursting with so many unusual characters, cars, and background details that I find new things to stare at every time I watch, and they’re all delightfully nuts. The racers themselves are clearly the product of animators who were told to design whatever they wanted and not only ran with it, but jumped in a car and punched the Nos (or, in Redline’s world, steamlight) before they even landed in the seat.

But as delightful as they are to look at while static, they are simply amazing to watch in motion. While literally every scene is bursting with clever art direction and brilliant color, the racing scenes are (of course) where it’s at. The animation is so fluid that one might be tempted to think it’s CG, until you realize that the squash and stretch distortions necessary to create that kind of on-screen motion are just barely possible with today’s CG, and certainly weren’t in 2009. And then there are the moments when the film foregoes “realistic” motion altogether, as when JP uses his steamlight booster, where it stretches the character to impossible but no less energetic dimensions. That’s the word to describe Redline’s animation – energetic, and often downright exhilarating. The animators give attention to even the smallest details of their characters’ racing – the flapping of steamlight tubes, the incessant shaking of the car (and different parts of the car) as they barrel toward the finish line (or away from enemy bombs, lasers, biological weapons, what have you). Even individual missile shots have their own unique animations. It’s undeniably gratuitous, but it’s also essential to the heart-poundingly bonkers fun of the whole thing.



On that note, James Shimoji’s soundtrack also deserves a mention; it’s as quirky and energetic as the movie that it scores, even if many of its tracks are too short to be fully enjoyed independently of their role in the movie. (Most of the tracks on the album end just as they feel like they’re getting started.) However, the opening score in particular – “Yellow Line” – is a lengthy, thumping track that’ll have you wanting to hop in your own car and just speed everywhere. “Redline” is a fun medley of that and the main themes of the final racers, and “Kare No Shift Wa BunBunBun” is worth a listen just to hear the SuperBoins try to say “We are sexy girls” in English (as if you somehow missed that they are The Sexy Girls of the movie).

Admittedly, Redline isn’t a movie for everyone. Non-anime fans may find themselves distracted by its sheer, unbridled craziness, and the plot and characterization is so meager that it feels like it’s literally only there to be the vehicle by which the characters’ cars race. As much as I fangirl over this movie, I have to admit that it took me two or three watches to really get into it, so if you’re unimpressed by spectacle, Redline will never be your thing.

But if you have even the slightest appreciation for the art of animation and the energy of well-done anime, you’ll find a real treasure in this movie.
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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

Promare – Anime Review

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Pssh. Right, like a Trigger movie would come to our local theatre and it NOT be a Mandatory Date Night.

Promare starts with a literal bang, as half the world’s population spontaneously bursts into flames, thus marking the Great World Blaze and the appearance of the Burnish – people with fire-manipulating powers who set the world aflame not because they want to, but because they must. And when fire can literally attack – well, suddenly firefighters have a whole new job.

New to the Burnish-fighting/rescue operation Burning Rescue, Galo Thymos is a rookie firefighter with a burning soul and a city to save – but when he apprehends the leader of the terrorist organization Mad Burnish, he discovers a challenge far darker and more complex than he could have ever imagined.

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Okay, first off – watch this movie. Just watch it. If you have ever been a fan of anything Trigger or Trigger-adjacent, it is a gift to your eyeballs.

Studio Trigger at its best has always been known for its spectacular, frenetic animation and design. Even the self-consciously low-budget Kill la Kill rocked every single frame of animation that ever touched a screen and Promare, with all the advantages of a movie budget, is so beautiful that I would have cried – had I not been occupied by fits of uncontrollable grinning.

See, Trigger knows what its fans want – namely bold, bombastic heroes, high tech robots hecking stuff up, and outright ridiculous action – and Promare dumps all that onto the screen as soon as it starts. It takes a break a little bit afterward for plot, but then goes right back to what we love with a third act full of so many mecha transformations and WTF moments that it’s hard not to leave the theatre in a state of sheer vibrating nerd bliss.

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The plot, unfortunately, is not as strong as its execution. Not that it’s bad – it moves along at an engaging pace and there’s never a dull moment – but given what I’ve seen from other Trigger productions of its type, I expected more. Trigger at its best has a talent for taking a visual motif and weaving it through the entire theme of the work. In Gurren Lagann (not technically Trigger, but still its spiritual predecessor), the visual concept of a spiral connected the protagonist’s defining drill to the spiral of human DNA and eventually to the resilient, overcoming power of humanity itself. In Kill la Kill, the concept of threads and clothing…well. It’s complicated and clever and absolutely nuts, and quite frankly, it’s easier to just go watch Kill la Kill.

Thus, given that Promare starts with a bunch of angry people bursting into flame and the centrality of fire to all human life (After all, it was one of our first tools), I expected a commentary on the all-consuming and all-empowering natures of both anger and fire – especially relevant in today’s angry society – or perhaps some twist relating the thematic concept of fire to humanity as a whole. Instead the movie takes a far more simplistic direction, and though one of its major themes centers upon how humans treat each other, it’s handled in such a predictable way that it became the one truly disappointing part of the movie. But then, I fully concede that it was mainly disappointing in comparison to my expectations.

At the same time, though, half the fun of going into a Trigger work for me is imagining the ridiculous ways in which its visuals and design might tie into its theme, and while most works since Kill la Kill have let me down in that respect, the thought process is still so fun that I don’t plan to give it up.

The only other disappointing element was that Galo was, in fact, not actually a resurrected Kamina (from Gurren Lagann), despite having his same basic character design and personality, and I’m still perplexed by the studio’s choice to make Promare’s protagonist essentially identical to one of its most iconic characters. Though, given how much fan chat leading up to the movie centered around the mystery of “Is it Kamina or not?” perhaps it was merely a clever marketing move.

After all, Trigger has time and again shown itself to be clever with design, and Promare is no exception. The film absolutely gleams with style, from the simplicity of its cityscapes to its unusual color choices (The fire is pink and yellow) to its imaginative character designs to its aesthetic attention to even the most minute background details (There’s a polygonal visual motif that extends even to the movie’s lens flares).

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Also, Hiroyuki Sawano’s (always) explosive musical score and Superfly’s fist-pumping pop themes are a pile of cherries on top of an already huge movie sundae  – though let’s be real, Sawano could write a score to a blank screen and it would be the most exciting blank screen you’d ever watched or would ever watch again.

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Overall, Promare was spectacularly worth the cost of a Fathom Events ticket, and it already has a designated space on my Blu-Ray shelf (whenever it finally releases). Viewers who are unfamiliar with Trigger may not appreciate all its stylistic tropes, but even new fans will recognize it for what it is – a bombastic love letter to us and everything we love about Trigger’s anime.

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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.