Azalea is trapped. Just when she should feel that everything is before her . . . beautiful gowns, dashing suitors, balls filled with dancing . . . it’s taken away. All of it. The Keeper understands. He’s trapped, too, held for centuries within the walls of the palace. And so he extends an invitation. Every night, Azalea and her eleven sisters may step through the enchanted passage in their room to dance in his silver forest. But there is a cost. The Keeper likes to keep things. Azalea may not realize how tangled she is in his web until it is too late.
Dun-dun-DUNNN.
So reads the inner flap of Entwined by Heather Dixon.
I picked up this novel, first, because its cover was beautiful, second, because there is no cover mention of a dashing, mysterious boy for Azalea to fall in love with (always a danger behind pretty girl-in-a-dress covers), and third, because a line on the first page describes someone who “dances like a brick.” As someone who does, indeed dance like a brick, I can empathize with that. Also, as far as similes go, that’s a pretty good one, and I am a fan of good similes.
Dancing is wholly important to Entwined, as it is based upon the fairy tale “The Twelve Dancing Princesses.” However, though it has fairy tale roots, it is not entirely the froofy novel that one might expect. Oh, there are plenty of balls and suitors and giggling in poofy dresses and, especially, spinning around to an array of dances that no one but a ballroom dancing aficionado could recognize. Plenty. Beneath its glittery surface, though, Entwined is ultimately a story of loss, recovery, and sisterly girl power, and as fairy tale adaptations go, it’s one of the more satisfying ones out there.
Oddly for a fairy tale novel, Entwined doesn’t give many early hints that it is based upon a fairy tale, which was one of its strengths for me. There are some references to old magic that lingers in the royal family’s palace, as well as the disgustingly evil former king who magicked the place, but most of the pages are devoted to the twelve sisters and their relationships with each other and their father. There is a mother at one point, too, but in classic fairy tale fashion, she’s dead before the story even gets going. (This is not a spoiler. The moment you meet the sweet, loving, sickly mom who smells of cake and baby oil, you know she’s a goner.)
The interactions between these characters are believable and interesting, often in unanticipated ways. The sisters’ relationship with their father, while precarious, even uncomfortable at first, became one of my favorite parts of this novel. I also liked how the author managed to keep all twelve sisters present in the story. She could have easily chosen to select two or three of them to represent the whole and then shooed the rest to the background, but she didn’t. Readers do see more of oldest sisters Azalea, Bramble and Clover (The sisters are named in alphabetical order, like hurricanes), but the others appear often enough to make the reader feel the largeness and, more importantly, the closeness of the group.
Even the minor characters in this novel are well-used, even though most of them begin the story as either supreme irritations or suspiciously likable in the obvious-romantic-interest way. A character of the latter sort almost derailed my liking of the book early on. At the book’s opening ball, we meet the rumpled yet dashing Lord Bradford, who has such amazing dexterity that he can catch a falling pudding glass and leave its contents perfectly undisturbed. In my experience, when a character is rumpled, dashing, and named “Lord” anything, when he impresses the ladies with amazing feats of legerdemain, and when he appears less than 30 pages in, you know some sweet, passionate, period novel romance is coming. Usually. Luckily, Entwined does not go down this path, even though it could easily have done so. And though I was initially skeptical of him, Lord Bradford gradually earned the honor of being added to My List of Fictional Guys that I Would Totally Date If They Popped Into The Real World. Another favorite was the unfortunately named Lord Teddie Haftenravenscher, who despite his initially irritating presence rendered many scenes in which he appeared hilarious. The same is true of other suitors who show up trying to win the princesses’ hands. The cast of characters in this book is large, but each one is handled well for the purposes of the story.
The one main downside to this large cast, though, is that in a book this size, it leaves minimal room for characterization. The characters are likable and well-described, but even the princesses do not change much, except to have momentary spurts of courage or realize that they are in love. In fact, the only person who undergoes any significant change is the King, which is probably why the scenes in which he appears become some of the strongest in the book. The general staticness of the other characters’ development makes for some slow reading in parts. However, the general likability of the characters’ personalities compensates enough for that lack to make the story worth continuing, as does Dixon’s attention to random little details that render the world of her story vivid and entrancing.
Interestingly, I enjoyed most of these little details of the story more than I did the main conflict itself. Oh, yes, the princesses dancing sneakily in a magical hidden clearing with creepy-hot magical fantasy guy Keeper was kind of cool and, if the book is ever made into a film, will make for some awesome visuals. When it came down to it, though, I was more interested in the sisters and their lives than I was Keeper and his motives. And though, by the end of the novel, Keeper is meant to be a truly terrifying figure, I wasn’t as terrified by him as I would have liked to be. However, his evilness does manifest in some visually neat ways at the end, and it does allow for pretty much every character in the story to go out with one big BOO-YA!, which we do not see enough of in books (both all characters having a good send-off and actual use of the word “Boo-ya!” Not that “boo-ya” is actually said in the story, because that would be weird and out of place, but it is totally there in spirit).
Since I am a cover geek, I feel an obligation to comment on Entwined’s cover, too. As I mentioned earlier, Entwined has a beautiful cover, with wonderful curly lettering, shiny leaf-shaped silver detailing, and a back-shot of a girl in a pretty but slightly shabby-looking gown—a perfect fit for the story because silver becomes more important than one would expect, and because the princesses in question are not from a particularly rich kingdom (another element that I liked. When was the last time you saw a poor-ish princess?). As beautiful as it is, though, it is still one among many girl-in-a-dress covers that seem to be gracing the YA shelves these days, and because of that, it risks being lost between [insert book of the moment here] and all of its cousins.
Enter the savior that is Heather Dixon’s blog.
I liked Entwined enough to scour the Internet for the author’s blog, and found it at http://story-monster.blogspot.com. Dixon was (and still is) a storyboard artist before she became a published author, and as artist-writers tend to do, she produced some art in keeping with her story. My initial reaction upon finishing the book was a positive one, but after visiting the blog and seeing her art, my reaction rocketed from one that I could coherently describe to “OMG AZALEA AND BRAMBLE LOOK LIKE DISNEY PRINCESSES BUT AWESOMERRRRR!!!1!1!!lsfjsklajf jailf 😀 ”
Exactly that.
I am totally an animated princess fangirl. Even for princesses that no one cares about anymore (Odette and Amalthea, anyone?). And Entwined’s cover, as beautiful as it is, does not exude that “THIS COULD TOTALLY BE A PRINCESS MOVIE BUT BETTER” vibe that Dixon’s art does, which is a shame. Her art isn’t even featured in the book itself, which is a greater shame. I know that the publisher is trying to appeal to the masses who can tolerate generically pretty girl-in-dress covers, as well as the audience that likes fairy tale books but shuns the illustrated ones as too childish. Still, as is, the cover and lack of illustrations are causing it to miss that valuable princess-fangirl audience (Don’t laugh. THERE ARE MORE OF US THAN YOU THINK). I’d like to see an edition of the book designed and illustrated by Dixon herself for this very reason. It would do the story better justice.
In essence, Entwined is unique among fairy tale adaptations in that it’s more interested in its characters than its magic. If you are looking for a subtly-realized book about sisterhood and light romance with a dash of magic thrown in, it’s highly recommended. It’s also recommended if you love Disney princesses and animation in general, because though it does not look it, this book is an animated classic waiting to happen.
***
EXTRAS!
If you’re not a fan of Heather Dixon at this point, you will be after seeing this coloring sheet that she produced:
Also, her Deviant Art page: http://betterthanbunnies.deviantart.com/
***
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.
Reviews
What to Watch When You’ve Finished The Seraphim Revival (or, a Holiday Gift Guide for Mecha Nerds)
The Seraphim Revival may be complete, but if you’re anything like the guy who wrote it, you’ve got a fever and the only prescription is more…giant robots. Well, never fear, ‘cause Dr. Holo’s got you covered.
The titles listed below are movies or anime series that either 1) influenced the writing of the Seraphim Revival trilogy, or 2) were discovered afterward but are still hecka fun for mecha fans.
We enjoyed all these, so we hope you will, too! 😀 (And of course, if you happened upon this page and have no idea what the Seraphim Revival is, we invite you to check it out! The first book in the series, Bane of the Dead, will be only $.99 through 12/30/17, so this is the perfect time!)
Mobile Suit Gundam Wing
You can’t be a mecha fan without also being a Gundam fan. It’s the rules. There will be a lot of Gundam on this list. Jacob’s first foray into the world of Gundam came in the Toonami golden age’s airing of Gundam Wing, and we may have squeed a little too loudly when we realized it was finally getting a collector’s edition Blu-Ray release this year. If that so expensive but UGH SO PRETTY collector’s edition makes your wallet scream, there are some Blu-Ray only options, too: Collection 1, Collection 2, and Endless Waltz. The main series and Endless Waltz are also streaming on CrunchyRoll.
Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn Re:0096
Gundam Wing may be the most pivotal Gundam for us, but Gundam Unicorn is hands-down our favorite. Set early in the Universal Century arc, it includes a lot of fan service references to classic Gundam, but it’s far from a fan service series*. Its plot is solid, and the animation is the most spectacular any Gundam series has ever seen. The series’ Blu-Ray/DVD release is a little wack, though (2 episodes per disc? What is this? 2001?), so if you don’t want to take the physical media plunge, it’s available for streaming on CrunchyRoll.
*I should specify that the fan service refers to mecha and character appearances, not boobs. If you want boob fanservice there’s, like, three seconds of boob in The 08th MS Team.
Mobile Suit Gundam: Char’s Counterattack
Char’s Counterattack is a Gundam classic – perhaps the Gundam classic – and it got a fantastic Blu-Ray release late last year. It won’t make a whole lot of sense if you’re not familiar with the original Mobile Suit Gundam series (or Unicorn), but it’s still worth it for the awesome mecha/military drama (and if you enjoy watching annoying characters get their just, fiery desserts). >D
Mobile Suit Gundam: The 08th MS Team
The 08th MS Team is unique in Gundam for being a small, down-to-earth story of a quartet of Gundam fighters, rather than an epic, sweeping space opera. The shifted focus from space battles opens up room for characters with very human, relatable problems, and the cast is charming in its authenticity. It’s not a must-watch, but it is a good watch for Gundam fans who are looking for something a little different.
Mobile Fighter G Gundam
Jacob scoffs at this entry, but H.P. loves it, so it stays. G Gundam is, admittedly, the black sheep of the Gundam family in that it is…well, terrible (especially in comparison to masterpieces like Char’s Counterattack and Unicorn).
However, it is also a whole lot of fun, if only because of its plethora of questionable choices that somehow earned the approval of a production committee. It’s like the anime equivalent of Miley Cyrus at the 2014 Grammys. A unified world where the governing country is determined by mecha fights every 4 years? Check. Hilariously stereotyped Gundam designs and pilots? Check. A Gundam so evil it’s called the Devil Gundam? Check. Participating in Gundam fights to find one’s missing brother even though that is probably the most inefficient method of finding someone ever? Check. The main character has a dramatic backstory, so at least it shares that with other Gundam series.
In short, it’s a hot mess, but a hilarious mess, too. For a serious Gundam fan, it’s probably the least watchable of all the Gundam series. But for fans of sprawling mecha train wrecks, it’s a blast. It hasn’t gotten a Blu-Ray release (understandably so), but it is available in two collections on DVD and available for streaming on CrunchyRoll.
Neon Genesis Evangelion
There have been approximately 20,000 versions of Neon Genesis Evangelion, and all are entertaining (if you find entertainment in angsty teens, mecha drama, and relationships so twisted they’d make the Greek gods cringe), so take your pick. Classic series? The End of Evangelion movie? The Death and Rebirth movie? These all had a huge influence on the writing of the Seraphim Revival books.
Our preferred versions, though, are the recent Rebuild of Evangelion movies: 1.11: You Are (Not) Alone, 2.22: You Can (Not) Advance, and 3.33: You Can (Not) Redo. This is primarily because they update the low-budget original series with beautiful animation and mecha battles, and then go off the track (and off the rails) in 3.0: You Can (Not) Redo, diverging from the plot of the original to deliver something new to fans.
Transformers: The Movie
Gundam Wing may have been the pivotal mecha series for Jacob, but Transformers was the gateway drug. Without this masterpiece of toy-inspired filmmaking, the Seraphim Revival series wouldn’t exist. The 1986 movie traumatized and enthralled Tiny Jacob and even today is a regular replay in House Holo.
Robot Jox
Robot Jox holds up better if you watched it as a kid before you had any real taste in movies, or if you just like bad movies. Jacob is the former and H.P. is the latter, which made this movie perfect for us. It’s G Gundam-like in that nations settle their disputes by pitting giant robots against each other, and there is drama! Deception! Hilariously bad stereotypes! But mostly 1980s robots wailing on each other. It’s a fun little watch if you want a laugh involving giant robots.
Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann
Jacob discovered Gurren Lagann too late for it to have any influence on the Seraphim Revival, but it’s H.P.’s favorite anime of all time, the anime recommendation that convinced Jacob she was marriage material, and a list of mecha recommendations would be incomplete without it.
This is a ridiculous show where the robots are powered by fighting spirit and manliness, where they combine and sprout new weapons with even less regard for physics than normal anime, and where the scale of battle becomes so extreme by the end that…you know what? It just has to be seen to be believed. However, beneath all its hyperactive action, there’s a story with an unexpected amount of heart, and by the end, it’ll leave you cheering for humanity. (And these days, how often can you say that about anything?)
If you don’t feel like forking out the insane cash for that (admittedly gorgeous) limited edition Blu-Ray box set, there’s a more wallet-friendly DVD edition. It’s also streaming on CrunchyRoll.
The Vision of Escaflowne
Escaflowne didn’t influence the Seraphim Revival as much as the aforementioned series, but it’s worth mentioning because 1) it’s unique for its fantasy setting (as opposed to a futuristic sci-fi setting), and 2) it just got a wholly unexpected Blu-Ray collector’s edition that is actually pretty slick. Outside a few dated technology references, the anime has aged surprisingly well. (It was 20 years old last year.) The story goes a little weak at the end, but the rest of the series makes up for it with dang cool Guymelef (mecha/armor/whatever) battles, a fascinating world, and, let’s face it, Allen because he’s super hot.
Jacob surprised H.P. with this edition for her birthday, and it’s been one of her favorite watches this year.
Pacific Rim
Pssh. Did you expect us to write a post of mecha recommendations and not include Pacific Rim? 😛
So ends our list of Seraphim Revival watch-alikes! Mecha fans, what would you add?
***
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.
Kingsman: The Golden Circle – Movie Review
Kingsman: The Secret Service is so beloved a movie in House Holo that when Kingsman: The Golden Circle was announced, it called for a Mandatory Date Night.
In The Golden Circle, Eggsy’s life as Galahad is good. He’s a new but accomplished agent of the Kingsman, and at the moment his biggest challenge is impressing his girlfriend’s parents. That all changes when a well-timed missile barrage obliterates every Kingsman agent except him and Merlin and every resource at the Kingsman’s disposal, which means they must follow their doomsday protocol: teaming up with the Kingsman’s American cousin, the Statesman, and figuring out what the heck happened.
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Nxc-3WpMbg&w=560&h=315]
The Golden Circle had one of the most fun trailers ever, and the movie almost lived up to that. It was ultimately a fun watch, as what it does right, it does very right. However, what it does wrong, it does very wrong, and for this reason, it falls short as a worthy successor to The Secret Service.
First, the good: The first Kingsman movie had some of the best action scenes in the history of spy films, and The Golden Circle keeps that tradition going. While frantic and heavily stylized, the action is easy to follow and over-the-top in the best way.
The opening scene, which sees Eggsy fighting a bionic-armed baddie in (and around) a Kingsman taxi as it’s being chased through the streets of London by cars armed with miniguns watches like this film’s answer to the backwards car chase scene from the first, as if to emphasize Eggsy’s progression as an agent. Now, when it comes to car combat, he can certainly do more than drive fast backward. Likewise, the climactic scene is wonderfully ridiculous, even if it goes a bit long, seeing Eggsy and Harry Hart (yes, the dead one) rampaging through the big bad’s retro-inspired headquarters while robots fight in the background and Elton John literally kicks bad guy butt in a marvelously sparkly feathered suit. Really you should see this movie for that alone. It is wondrous.
Next, the interactions between the core characters are as engaging as they were in the original and even improve upon relationships set up in the first movie. Any boyfriend would have reason to be nervous meeting his girl’s parents, but Eggsy’s girl? She’s Princess Tilde, having stuck with him from that infamous scene. Which means that the parents he’s meeting are the king and queen of Sweden. Talk about pressure. Likewise, Harry Hart’s return is both awesome and bittersweet – awesome because YESSS COLIN FIRTH IS BACK AND HE HAS AN EYEPATCH, bittersweet because being shot in the head does things to a person, even if the bullet only passed through the eye. In this case, it’s resulted in such incredible memory loss that he doesn’t remember being a Kingsman at all, much less the personal value he has to Eggsy and Merlin, and their attempts to get him to remember who he is are heartbreaking to watch. Even after one finally works, he’s not the Harry Hart he used to be; on a basic level, having one eye when he’s used to two throws his perception off, which complicates his combat abilities. On a deeper level, he struggles with phantoms that haunt his mind as a result of his injury, which leads Eggsy and Merlin to question his remaining abilities even if he’s still confident in them. There’s more depth in these characters than most other spy films have led me to expect of the genre.
The same cannot be said for the antagonists, which is where The Golden Circle’s flaws begin.
We learn early on that the titular Golden Circle refers to a drug cartel run by the bubbly but vicious Poppy, an accomplished businesswoman/drug dealer with such a flair for wholesome 1950s nostalgia that her secret lair in the jungle is a heavily-guarded re-creation of the fun parts of a retro town – diner, salon, bowling alley, all the essentials. This could have been a great template for an antagonist; after all, Valentine from the previous movie was similarly over-the-top, with his penchant for global murder despite his charming lisp and aversion to the sight of blood.
Poppy has none of that. When we first meet her, she tests the loyalty of an inductee to her drug ring by having him jam his still-living recruiter into a mincer and then forcing him to eat a burger made from the ground-up meat of the man. Which, admittedly, is wonderfully nuts, but also gives us as viewers nothing to like about her. I hate, hate, hate the trope of bad guys killing off minions to show How Evil They Are, because it makes one wonder how that bad guy manages to find loyal minions at all. Once Poppy states that she prefers robots to humans anyway – and apparently has access to such technology that advanced prosthetics and semi-sentient dogs and salon attendants are no big deal – it becomes clear that the only reason why Poppy even keeps human staff is for the writers to show How Evil She Is. Combine this with her actual plan, and she has no redeeming qualities, which makes her an uninteresting villain.
In her nefarious scheme, she’s poisoned the various drugs she sells with a disease that leads to a quick and miserable death. Her plot? Force the US to legalize the drug trade so that she can run her business legally, and do so by holding all the poisoned victims hostage (because possibly killing all your customers at once is a great business model). If all goes according to plan, the president signs an order legalizing the drugs, she sends the antidote out worldwide.
Except the president doesn’t, which is one of the film’s most obnoxious problems. I have never seen a man without a mustache twirl an evil mustache that hard, but this guy manages. When this president learns of the threat, his public plan is to gather the affected to field hospitals and treat them; his actual plan is to not sign Poppy’s order and just let the affected die, thereby winning the war on drugs in one fell swoop. After all, the users are just worthless druggies, right? As if we needed more emphasis on how despicable he is, the gathered victims are literally put in metal cages and stacked on top of each other. The president isn’t even a character by this point; he’s a caricature, and not a very good one at that. Like, even if a politician wanted to do that sort of thing, how could he even expect to get away with something that obvious? I mean, other possible complications aside, SOMEONE IS GOING TO NOTICE THE THOUSANDS OF CAGES BEING SENT TO FIELD HOSPITALS WITHIN THE SPACE OF A FEW DAYS AND BLOW A WHISTLE IN TWO SECONDS ON TWITTER 😐 😐 😐
*Update: …Um, 2018, when I wrote the above paragraph, I did not mean it as a challenge. 😐 😐 😐
Literally every scene with the president in it watches like an angry college student with minimal writing skills still had some election year steam to blow off and so farted their hot, wet angst all over what should have been one of my favorite movies of the year.
Those are the most egregious flaws, but they’re not the most disappointing ones. That dubious honor goes, regrettably, to the Statesman.
With the Statesman, the writers commit the biggest sin of the movie, taking one of the best and most promising parts of the trailer and criminally under-using it while reducing it to a series of caricatures (There’s a theme emerging here…). The setup for the Statesman is smart; it’s a bigger, better-equipped, bombastic organization ‘cause ‘Murica (also ‘cause sequel. Also ‘cause their cover business is whiskey, which brings in a whole lot more money than tailoring). However, the movie drops the ball almost as soon as the Statesman are introduced…which is by displaying an astonishing lack of knowledge about their role in the Kingsman’s doomsday protocol. Eggsy and Merlin almost end up set on fire by Channing Tatum (er, agent Tequila) before another agent pops in to say “oops, no, I looked in our files, they’re for real. lol sorry :P”
After that the Statesmen characters are introduced as a series of increasingly cowboyish dudes with alcohol-themed code names and so little characterization that they might have been named after whatever the writers were drinking when they created each one. The only exception is Ginger Ale, who is at least likable, but still not incredibly complex outside of a “I want to be a field agent but this one guy keeps voting me down” conflict. And she certainly doesn’t make up for the sin of introducing Channing Tatum’s nice muscles and then, no joke, PUTTING HIM IN CRYO BEFORE HE EVEN GETS TO BE AWESOME. 😐 😐 😐
If that’s not mismanagement of creative resources, I don’t know what is, but unfortunately that’s what a lot of this movie boils down to. Fortunately, that doesn’t stop it from being generally fun to experience. The most perfect example of how the film watches is a reprisal of the famous bar fight scene. The setup is absolutely stupid – a random Statesman antagonizes the Kingsman for literally no reason other than that they look prissy – and the violence that follows is wholly disproportionate to the offense given. Narratively, however, it’s brilliant, referencing Harry’s iconic scene from the first movie to show how his trauma has affected his abilities, and then transforming into a chance to show what an awesome badass new ally agent Whiskey is.
And that’s really what The Golden Circle is: a plethora of brilliant moments strung together by an equal plethora of terrible ones. The brilliant moments make it worth watching, but the others will make fans wonder why we didn’t get a movie that was as smart and tightly-plotted as The Secret Service.
***
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.
Valiant Dust – Book Review
When David Weber puts a book in your hands and tells you to read it, you do, and so here is my book report on my recent ARC of Valiant Dust by Richard Baker.
In Valiant Dust, Sikander Singh North is an aristocrat-turned-soldier, off to begin his first mission on the Aquilan Commonwealth starship CSS Hector. Sikander himself is not wholly Aquilan; rather, he is from Kashmir, a colonial possession of Aquila that, while economically valuable, does not yet have the technology to construct its own fleet of interstellar warships, and so he serves there to learn how he might better serve his home. As he does so, though, he’s in for a bumpy ride. For CSS Hector has been sent to the planet of Gadira II, where tensions between the ruling sultanate and the rebel caidists have long been mounting on the planet, and where forces that aren’t supposed to be there have suddenly appeared in orbit…
Valiant Dust is easily one of the best pieces of military sci-fi I’ve read this year. Its fast pace and its complex, yet efficiently characterized cast make it a fun read, while its streamlined descriptions of far-future ship tech make it accessible. If you’re a reader who has been wanting to try military sci-fi but has been daunted by the overwhelming techno- and military-babble that is so common in the genre, Valiant Dust presents an excellent starting point.
Those praises (and David’s recommendation) aside, I have to admit that the cultures involved were what grabbed my attention most. Sikander hails from an Indian-descended planet, while Gadira II is Arabic-descended and Islamic-influenced. The ruling powers of Gadira are liberal enough to be okay, if uneasy, about a princess taking an active interest in military affairs, while the citizenry is variably conservative – though not, it should be noted, necessarily terroristic, except where the story’s rebellion is concerned. And even then the rebellion is not religiously-based, but rather rooted in citizen concerns that their rulers are making deals with offworld powers that will benefit the elite, not the common people – or that will eventually benefit the offworlders exclusively, leaving Gadira an exploited, ruined planet. The only actual terrorism in the book takes place in Sikander’s past, where he loses much of his family and innocence in a politically-motivated attack. The circumstances surrounding that tragedy – expressed in well-placed flashbacks throughout the book – give Sikander an emotional tie to the aforementioned Gadiran princess (that is, Amira) Ranya Meriem el-Nasir, who lost her parents in a similar manner. (Ranya herself is one of the most engaging characters in the novel. Though a small romance blooms between her and Sikander, it takes a backseat to her whip-smart attention to political details and her consequent involvement in the uprisings that eventually take place. She became one of my favorite characters as soon as she appeared in the book.)
I don’t know enough about the intricacies of Indian or Arabic cultures to comment upon how accurate the depictions are – and really, given that the novel is set so far in the future (implying plenty of time for cultural change) the point is moot. However, given that the vast majority of sci-fi and fantasy involves Western-inspired cultures, the fact that this novel puts non-Western cultures front and center in a respectful, detailed, effortless, timeless way makes it an instant gem. I mention the last detail in particular because while this is a novel made up of currently-contentious puzzle pieces – namely complexities surrounding Islam and capitalist/imperialist exploitation – those pieces are handled in such a way that readers will be able to pick up this book 50+ years from now and still be able to find some meaning in it. It doesn’t try to provide obvious commentary on any of its components, which in turn makes it one of the more accidentally-engaging political reads I’ve ever read.
All that said, though, this book isn’t trying to be an Important Political Book. What it’s trying to be is a hecka fun military sci-fi action book that just happens to have political complexities at its center. The food for thought is there if you look for it, but it’s still a great read even if all you want out of it is explosions.
***
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.
Last Exile – Anime Review
From Amazon: It’s the dawn of the Golden Age of Aviation on planet Prester, and retro-futuristic sky vehicles known as vanships dominate the horizon. Claus Valca – a flyboy born with the right stuff – and his fiery navigator Lavie are fearless racers obsessed with becoming the first sky couriers to cross the Grand Stream in a vanship. But when the high-flying duo encounters a mysterious girl named Alvis, they are thrust into the middle of an endless battle between Anatoray and Disith – two countries systematically destroying each other according to the code of chivalric warfare. Lives will be lost and legacies determined as Claus and Lavie attempt to bring peace to their world by solving the riddle of its chaotic core.
Last Exile holds a special place in my heart because it was the first anime I bought in full, special edition art box and all, as a budding otaku. This was back in the days when you had to pay $30 for a measly three-to-four episodes, so that was easily $200+ of my hard-earned teenage money.
But now it’s time for The Culling. A house only has so much shelf space, so Jacob and I occasionally go through our anime collection to see A) which old multi-volume favorites have been replaced with slimmer single-volume complete collections, or B) which ones simply aren’t earning their shelf space.
All of which was why I was both excited and nervous to watch Last Exile again for the first time since high school. Would it hold up to the nostalgic glow that I’d so lovingly pictured around it?
Now that we’ve finished it again, the answer is a resounding “UGHHHHH NOOOOO. ;_;”
Not even that classy opening could save it.
Don’t get me wrong. Last Exile is a gem for a certain audience, but unfortunately that is the narrow audience of “steampunk anime fans who are willing to sit through inadvertently inconsistent and stupid characters, lazy plotting, and a let-down of a big reveal all because, on its surface, the series looks darn cool.” And aesthetically, it does.
Last Exile’s neat combination of steampunk/dieselpunk (for the warring nations of Anatoray and Disith) and futuristic design (for The Guild) is what drew me to the series in the first place, and for me, that production design was enough to carry me though the entire series, watching both as a teen and as an adult. Range Murata, who to this day is one of my favorite designers, did fantastic work bringing the world of Last Exile to life, from the unique (if wildly impractical) vanship designs to the clean, geometric aesthetic of The Guild to the simple appeal of the characters’ facial designs. It’s also rare to see art that can do so much with greys, browns, and muted colors and still make for an ultimately optimistic-feeling show, but Last Exile’s design pulls that off with panache.
Which makes it all the more unfortunate that the rest of the show doesn’t live up to that. Though the design of the show is good, the actual animation that goes into it is inconsistent. Most of the time, it’s good enough, but the moments when it falters, it does so in a big way, like one shot in which a crying, sniffling character’s face seems to implode on itself with each sniffle (pretty sure noses don’t move that way, even for the most intense cries). There are also moments where the CG flickers, which is distracting.
Worse than that, though, are the characters and handling of the plot. Again, don’t get me wrong – the characters are basically likable and interesting (except for Alex Row, who comes across as Diet Zero-Calorie Captain Herlock), but there are many obvious points where the writers inserted dialogue or conflict solely for the purpose of tension – for example, early on, where the main characters stress about having to fly into a war zone even though moments earlier, they’d literally chosen to fly into the exact same war zone to deliver a message that isn’t even related to the battle. There are also moments where the characters fail to make obvious observations – when it takes Klaus several minutes to realize that Dio is from The Guild, despite The Guild’s very obvious eccentricity and appearance, or, worst of all, when Alvis suddenly starts FREAKING GLOWING AND MESSING UP SHIP INSTRUMENTATION AND NO ONE STOPS TO SAY, “HEY THAT WAS WEIRD. WHY WAS SHE GLOWING?” Even though two main characters were in the room to see it happen. 😐 Not to mention that, despite being Guild members (if runaways), and thus members of an enemy faction, Dio and his companion are given complete freedom to roam the famed Silvana. 😐 Like, how does this ship even manage to stay in the air, much less become one of the most feared ships in this show? 😐 😐 😐
Anyway, all of this is done in service to the plot, which aims to keep secrets from the viewer in attempt to prepare for a big payoff at the end – the viewer learns little meaningful information about why Alvis is so important to Exile, what Exile even is, why Anatoray and Disith are fighting in the first place, etc. until the last several episodes of the series. By then, the viewer’s patience is spent, and the reveals aren’t even that good. SPOILERS: Anatoray and Disith are fighting because Disith’s land is becoming uninhabitable and its people need a new home. Exile is a device meant to carry people off the planet to a more habitable world (or perhaps regenerate the present dying world. The series wasn’t incredibly clear on that). Alvis is a key to activating Exile.
As reveals go, these are all pretty basic, and I would have much preferred to watch a series where these points were revealed early on, and time was spent answering questions about the world around them.
Like, if they have big ol’ warships with ranged guns, why do they bring the ships close to each other to fight with musketeers?
If Anatoray and Disith are able to come to a truce so easily, why’d they even war to begin with?
How did The Guild even come to be? Why’s The Guild so weird? What’s up with that wack coming of age ceremony? Like Guild why even?
What exactly is Claudia fluid and what does it even do? Okay, to be fair, it’s the magic BS that allows these impossible aerial designs to fly, but even then, where’s it come from? How’s it work? If it’s apparently easier to come by than water (you never see Klaus and Lavie worrying about the quality or amount of their Claudia fluid, after all), why’s the variety of flying vehicles so limited? For that matter, if Claudia fluid allows The Guild to maintain its posh floating fortress, why shouldn’t Disith use it to power alternative housing? Man, you could almost write a Dune-scale series about the economics and politics of Claudia fluid. (*Quietly goes to plot the intricacies of clarien fluid…*)
Finally, if Exile was built to get people off-slash-save a planet, why make it so crazy hard to find and activate? And why use something as specific as a magic little girl and some words that are only passed along orally? What if the words get changed or forgotten over the ages? Also why wrap the thing in killer spaghetti robots? That’s like giving a person all the M&Ms in the universe but coating all of them in a poison shell – except these M&Ms can save a whole population, which makes it worse.
The first third of the series is fun, but Episodes 13-16 provide the clearest proof of how the series fails. These episodes reveal information and twists that, by all means, should have been earth-shaking for the series, but since it’s so badly set up, the viewer has no emotional connection to anything that’s going on. You know you’re supposed to be surprised and intrigued by what’s happening, but it’s just not there, and that same feeling of lost potential continues through the end of the series, where I literally did not care about anything that happened in the last six episodes.
Ultimately, Last Exile tries to be a character-driven political sci-fi war drama, but since it never focuses on any one of those things, it fails at all of them. Dedicated steampunk and dieselpunk fans will enjoy it for the aesthetic, but even for those fans, only the first 10 or so episodes will be worth it. The rest will just be a glaring example of a series with worlds of squandered potential.
It’s still staying on my shelf, though. The nostalgia factor is just too great. (And I really do like those first 10 episodes.)
***
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.
An Unproven Concept – Book Review
James Young is another of those authors whose books I bought at LibertyCon years ago and subsequently forgot to read because I tell myself that I’m not going to buy new books until I finish my current pile and, unfortunately, I am a terrible liar. Which results in old books getting hopelessly buried under new books.
An Unproven Concept suffers from an uninspiring title, which is another of the reasons why it sat on my to-read pile for so long. What it should really be titled is “MFing TITANIC IN SPACE!” or some equivalent, because truly, this is a book for people who watched Titanic and thought “You know what this movie needs? Starships and a higher body count.”
An Unproven Concept’s Titanic is a starliner that is the best of its type, but the iceberg on its horizon is the persistent advancement of ship technology, which threatens to obliterate the Titanic’s illustrious place in the echelon of starships. Company executives are breathing down the captain’s neck to keep his ship relevant and insist that a trip into uncharted – and illegal – space might just be the shot in the arm that Czarina Lines needs to stay at the top of the game.
Turns out that technological advancement isn’t the only iceberg in this Titanic’s way. When it makes first contact with not one, but two hostile alien species in this territory, it’ll need all the help it can get to save what remains of its passengers and crew.
Nearby are only two ships – the Constitution, a new, experimental ship that everyone expects to fail, and the Shigure, a dinosaur of a ship with a few surprises hidden up her sleeve (in both cases, the unproven concepts of the title). They’d better make it in time, because in this area of space, they’re the Titanic’s only hope.
An Unproven Concept is an entertaining piece of military sci-fi, especially for readers who are Titanic nerds and who like mounds of detail and numbers mixed in with their action. It isn’t so much a retelling of the Titanic disaster as a “What if the Titanic wrecked in space?” exploration, though it does keep some of the tropes that follow the Titanic story – namely, someone in power over the ship insisting that it go faster or, in this case, be more interesting. I initially found that one repetition frustrating; by this point in the far future, after inevitable centuries of Titanic retellings, the captain of a ship with the most unlucky name in transportation should know to answer any orders of that nature with “LOL u so silly. 😛 ” But on the flip side, it’s an obnoxious company exec doing the insisting, threatening livelihoods until he gets his way, etc., and when it comes down to it, a dumb, arrogant, disastrous exec is not that unbelievable. (Plus readers get to enjoy one of the most satisfying comeuppances in the history of executive idiocy when this character gets his due, so it’s worth it just for that.)
Despite its level of detail, too, it’s also fairly easy to read for even casual military sci-fi readers. Personally, when I encounter ship statistics in books, they sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher in my brain – I don’t read for the math. I read for the KABOOM. – but they’re so structured in this book that you can glance over them and still understand what’s going on around them.
Of course, no military sci-fi book – or disaster book, for that matter – is worth anything if you don’t care for the people fighting and dying, and An Unproven Concept’s characters are believable and sympathetic (except for that one exec, whom I’d call a dick if it wouldn’t be an insult to Richards and manly bits everywhere). Abraham Herrod, captain of the Titanic, is one of the easiest to relate to, as he’s just a guy trying to do a good job but being thwarted at every turn by the higher ups. Marcus Martin is one of the best and most badass; as chief security officer on the Titanic, he’s got an obvious bone to pick with everyone who allowed the ship to go into dangerous space, but until he can pick that bone (and maybe break a few) he’s determined to keep as many alive as he can – even if this sometimes involves letting others die.
See, this is a complex book where characters find themselves in situations where there are no good solutions, just some solutions that are slightly less bad than others. But if that’s what you’ve got to work with, you work with it. (It is a military novel, after all.) It also makes the losses even more catastrophic, for the characters who survive have to live not only with their personal losses, but the question of whether their actions were legitimately the right ones. The novel spends a significant amount of time after the conflict’s resolution wrapping up these emotional ends, which on one side, makes for a slow ending, but on the other, makes the end more relevant. It’s not a “Rah-rah! We beat the aliens!” win, because when it comes to any kind of military conflict, there’s rarely a “Rah-rah!”-style ending. There’s always tragedy among the victory, and An Unproven Concept captures that well. However, at its heart, it does allow itself to have some fun with its situations. I mean, characters don power armor and mech suits more than once, after all, and there’s plenty of tough soldier sass to go around.
My only real complaint about the book is that the aliens’ motives aren’t explored much at all; they’re present pretty much exclusively to wreak the havoc that causes the disaster. I would have liked to learn more about them, especially since two separate civilizations were involved, but then, that’s not the story this book wanted to tell. There are also enough typos to notice, but not enough to distract; the story was engaging enough that they didn’t matter as much to me as they would have in other books.
If you’re into military sci-fi, then, An Unproven Concept is well worth your time.
***
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.
BattlePug, Volume 1 – Graphic Novel Review
Pssh, like I’m going to discover a book about a barbarian riding a giant pug and NOT read the heck out of it.
When table buddy Sanford Greene told me about BattlePug at The Tangled Web’s Free Comic Book Day event, I knew I’d found a new favorite before I even opened the cover. Volume 1 of Mike Norton’s webcomic-turned-graphic novel follows the nameless barbarian, The Last Kinmundian, as he seeks to avenge the destruction of his home by killing the monster that obliterated it. Standard barbarian stuff, except that the creature that destroyed Kinmundy? It’s an evil baby seal.
And lacking a village to toughen and angst up his barbarian self, he finds plenty of toughening and angst when he’s rescued and enslaved by the Northland Elves. Who are basically Santa’s elves. Led by a dude who is basically Santa.
Did I mention that he also rides a big ol’ pug?
If you don’t already know what you’re getting into with this comic, these two panels sum up its style perfectly:
And those two panels tell me all I need to know to love the snortin’ heck out of BattlePug.
That said, for people who do not have an irrational love of pugs or comics conceived during Drink and Draws (as this one was. Obviously), it leaves a little to be desired. As mentioned earlier, its story is pretty standard barbarian-seeking-revenge fare, with its comedic elements (and mainly the pug) being the sole feature that make it stand out. There’s nothing particularly original or engaging about the characters, and the comedic elements are not handled in a way that makes them inextricable from the world. Kinmundy could have just as easily been destroyed by a giant kitten, and regrettably even the titular BattlePug could be interchanged with another similarly silly looking creature and still maintain the sense of humor.
A note for parents: While the main storyline is fairly kid-friendly (some blood notwithstanding), it’s told by the mysterious and sexy Moll, whose chosen article of clothing is a bed sheet, if anything at all. You rarely see anything more than a nice butt, but it’s worth knowing if your kid hasn’t reached a developmental stage that can handle butts.
BattlePug isn’t exactly a hidden gem, then, but readers looking for comics in the same ridiculous vein as, say, Axe Cop (another of my faves), will find some amusement here. Pug-loving readers like me, however, will likely be adding all subsequent books in the series to their collections. (In fact, I just requested the second from my local comic shop!)
***
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.
Fortune’s Pawn – Book Review
One of my pals recommended Fortune’s Pawn by Rachel Bach by describing it as, and I quote, “WTF science fiction.” She was then able to point to the precise (early) chapter where the WTFery begins, and that was all it took to sell me on this book. (Thanks, Carmanita!)
In Fortune’s Pawn, Devi Morris is the best mercenary in the Blackbirds, but she wants to be more. Her greatest ambition is to join the Devastators, the Sacred King’s own force of high-tech armored badasses, and the fastest way to do that is to survive one year working security on the supposedly cursed ship The Glorious Fool. But as adept a fighter as Devi is, she doesn’t know what’s in store for her…
Fortunately for readers, what’s in store for her is 320 pages of awesome power armor, sassily-named weapons, condescending bird people, killer lizard people, sweet space hippies, a hot dude with a polite accent who also happens to be a cook (and maybe something else), and several pesky mysteries that just won’t leave Devi alone.
Fortune’s Pawn wastes no time with its storytelling. By the end of Chapter One, not only do readers know what Devi’s after, but she’s already on The Glorious Fool, leaving the story to rocket forward at the pace one would expect of a book involving armored mercs. The basic plot is simple: There’s something weird about The Glorious Fool and Devi wants to figure out what it is (while still ensuring her shot at the Devastators). And while the action is spectacular – and reason enough to read this book – the characters are what make the story worth it. Though some get more page time than others, all are interesting – or at least intriguing – to read about, and though not all are explored very deeply, they’re written in such a way that one suspects the author has probably created a detailed backstory she just couldn’t fit in the book.
Devi, of course, is the most lovingly crafted, a capable lady merc whose love for her armor is second only to her love for kicking butts with it, but she’s far from a Michelle Rodriguez stereotype. Her ultimate motivator is her ambition, and while she’s not about to let anything get in the way of achieving it, she’s not so ruthless as to be heartless or single-minded about it to the exclusion of all else. It’s not every action novel that would see its armored merc become pals with her meditative space hippie roommate, nor that would allow the same merc a legit, respectful (i.e. not stupid) romance, but Fortune’s Pawn does.
Devi’s relationship with Rupert, The Glorious Fool‘s cook, is one of the best in the novel. When it comes to love, Devi’s not looking for swoon so much as a hot bod, but she finds that and more in Rupert, sometimes to the detriment of both (even if each wants the other). Theirs is a relationship fraught with will-they-won’t-theys that is made no less complex by the secrets surrounding Rupert himself, which Devi wants to solve and Rupert has no interest in disclosing, even after awesome sex. It’s a mature and balanced romance that, for once, contributes significant entertainment to the story and doesn’t distract from its sci-fi action bits at all.
Fortune’s Pawn is hands-down the most entertaining book I’ve read this year. If you love fast-paced sci-fi action, give it a try. You’re in for an explosive treat.
***
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.
Tender Wings of Desire – Book Review
Sometimes a book comes along that makes you drop everything to read it because it’s obviously the most profound piece of literature you’ll ever encounter. Other times that’s a book that looks like the most hilarious of disasters and it’s free and only 96 pages anyway, so why not? Such was the case with KFC’s Mother’s Day surprise Tender Wings of Desire, which has the distinction of being the only romance I have ever willingly picked up (mostly because, let’s face it, I expected hot, greasy foodporn).
I read this book for what it is, which is an obvious viral marketing stunt, so my standards were not as high as they’d be for books that expect to attract actual readers. I expected ridiculous, highly self-aware characterization, and the aforementioned hot, greasy food descriptions.
This is why I was astonished to read a sweet little regency romance that was far better than it had any right to be. It’s still a rather standard story as period romance goes – The protagonist, Madeline, is a gentry girl with a prettier sister and engaged to a man she doesn’t love, so she runs away to be the master of her own fate and ends up working at a tavern where she meets a charming seaman. I’ll stop here to avoid spoilers, but if you’re familiar with regency tropes and have even sort of glanced at the cover, you already know the spoilers.
Still, what’s predictable for some is familiar and cozy for others – and really, for people who like gentle romances, it’s a satisfying, undemanding read. Once you look past the ridiculous cover, you find that the story stands rather strongly on its own merits, with some unexpectedly insightful bits of writing (two of my favorites being “She remembered her father making jokes about the mysteries of women, but men simply did not know that they too carried mysteries” and “Madeline watched him as he went, feeling like every love song she had ever listened to was real to her now; they were all singing for her”). The romantic interest, of course, is Colonel Sanders, even if the story is slow to call him that, but change a select few details and he could be any other love interest in any other love story.
My only genuine complaints about the book are that the cover is inaccurate – but let’s face it, that hilarious cover is what makes the whole campaign work, even if the illustrator does have a severely mistaken idea of what regency costume and hot sailors look like – and, most egregiously, that it doesn’t even approach being foodporn. 😐 In fact, the only character in the story who cooks isn’t even good at it, so foodie readers don’t even get to drool over delicious non-fried-chicken descriptions. 😐 😐 😐
If there is a sequel next Mother’s Day – and how could there not be, with a campaign as hilarious as this? – there better be some sinfully decadent descriptions of fried chicken.
Overall, Tender Wings of Desire is far from a must-read, and really, it’s not a book that’s meant to be read so much as to amuse the Internet and sell chicken, but readers who do try it will find an unexpectedly cozy, easy romance.
Banshee – Book Review
The world changed when dragons rose from their slumber beneath the earth, but dragons were not the only change to come.
They warned of demons—monsters that would emerge from the very pit of hell to wreak havoc on our world. The dragons had come to select riders who, with the dragons, would provide reinforcements against the coming carnage. But if it takes dragons to defeat those monsters, what hope does humanity have?
Not much, and soon, even with the dragons’ aid, civilization crumbles in the ashes of its former self, burned more with every Killing Moon.
Now only the city of New Madrid remains. It may soon face its own demise from underneath—but not if French Heavener has anything to say about it. With dragon rider Saavin, he’ll travel to the very cave where the demons hide. With her dragon Banshee and the last courageous band of humans, dragons, and riders, they’ll save New Madrid.
Or die trying.
I met author Terry Maggert at LibertyCon several years ago, snagged by the tagline for his then-latest book: “Come for the waffles. Stay for the magic.” Unfortunately, despite combining two of my favorite things in the world, Halfway Dead had not yet released, so instead I opted to try the next best thing, which was “the apocalypse but with dragons,” a.k.a. Banshee.
The reason why this is review is so late is 1) life, which required me to 2) read it twice, which I needed to do anyway because my first reaction was *excited pterodactyl noises.* This is the kind of reaction every author hopes to elicit, but unfortunately it does not make for an articulate review.
My now-articulate response: Banshee is a must-read for fans of dragons, apocalyptic fiction, vividly realized worlds, and competent, capable characters.
Of all the characters, Saavin is the most nondescript, but this is largely because she’s so defined by her role as a dragon rider who gets stuff done—because in this world, if you don’t get stuff done, you die, even if you have a dragon on your side. The more clearly-realized French is equally as competent as she is, though in a different way: A product of Appalachia, French knows how to survive in coarse conditions, especially in terms of gathering and organizing resources, but he’s far from the stereotypical hillbilly one might expect. He carries the novel and keeps most of the cast alive through sheer planning alone, and it was refreshing to read about a “hillbilly” who was not only more than a caricature, but an admirable leader. I’m not sure that I’d follow him into the hell cave, but I’d definitely follow him elsewhere.
Outside of Saavin and French, the cast is huge, but just as well characterized. None of the characters are the bombastic badasses one might expect of a novel like this, but many are badass in realistic ways, from the Paddy-Macs, a family of sharp-shooters, to Harriet Fleming, a New Madrid leader who knows she’s dying from terminal illness but still does her job, despite both internal and external odds. Of course, humans wouldn’t be human without some politics, which is where Colvin Watley and his lackeys come in. He’s a charismatic, folksy type well suited to the personality of his surroundings; he’s also a manipulative, useless a-hole who wants power and influence in New Madrid but doesn’t have the skills to merit it. Still, that hasn’t stopped him from gaining some traction against French, and the conflict there is nearly as intense as the conflict against the demons—perhaps more so, since a Watley victory implies the inevitable loss of the last human outpost, all because of local politics. The balance of apocalyptic conflicts and relatable conflicts are half of what make this novel work so well.
The other half is the world. While I love dragons in all situations, I especially like when authors place them in modern settings because there’s no way for a dragon to make a small impact. A creature as huge and epic as a dragon irrevocably changes the society around it, and it’s always fun to see how authors choose to express those changes. (Well, fun for the reader. In Banshee’s case, humans face so much hellacious* crap that, well, the apocalypse happens. But in their defense, the dragons were trying to stop that.)
That said, Banshee is primarily a world-building novel. The circumstances and history of the setting are as much a part of the novel as the characters attempting to survive it, and though the characters are interesting and the plot moves at a steady pace, it’s frequently interrupted by records from the Bulwark Archival Materials, which provide a look at what’s going in the world outside (or before) the main characters’. On my first read-through, I found these a little jarring, as they slow the momentum of the plot and sometimes don’t contribute to the narrative immediately surrounding them. However, on my second read, I actually enjoyed them quite a lot. They provide flesh to a world that would have been a mere skeleton had the novel dedicated itself to a straightforward storyline, and though not all are strictly necessary to the plot, they season it nicely, providing glimpses of the resources derived from the demons, the origins and personalities of the other dragons, etc.
The cast of dragons is pretty huge, too, and I regret not being able to spend more time with them, especially Banshee. Despite his name being the title of the book, his significance never seems to be greater than that of the other main characters, and I spent the novel hoping for that special detail or scene that would make him stand out above the rest. It doesn’t happen, but then, all the characters are pretty epic anyway, so it’s not much of a loss.
My only other gripe has to do with the minor character Orontes, who pops up to catalyze the story, disappears to the background for most of the rest, and then pops up at the end again for an unexpected twist that I couldn’t justify even after my second reading. However, it is a twist that demands a sequel, to which I say PLZ TERRY MAGGERT I NEED MORE DRAGONS.
In the meantime, now I can start on Halfway Dead.
*Note: Though there are frequent references to hell and demons, the demons are called so less for religious reasons, more because they come from underground and look like the illegitimate love children of Satan and every animal that wants to kill you. It’s about as religious as Doom.
***
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 Empire of Corpses – Anime Review
In The Empire of Corpses, the dead walk the earth. In this reality, the famous reanimation research conducted by Viktor Frankenstein was not chased away with torches and pitchforks, but rather accepted and expanded to the point where corpse engineering is an accepted field of study and the dead are revived and repurposed for tasks the living would rather not do, from fighting wars to performing menial labor. However, these dead are not nearly as functional as The One perfect revival that Frankenstein was able to produce. Soon after perfecting this One, he disappeared, and his notes with him, leaving corpse engineers to conduct the same research themselves. Thus far they’ve only been able to manage shuffling, shambling reanimations with limited capacity for thought and no semblance of a soul.
John Watson aims to fix that. Obsessed with restoring a soul to his deceased (and reanimated) friend Friday, he accepts a mission from the British Secret Service to find Frankenstein’s original notes. But in the process, he uncovers many darker secrets…
WARNING: HERE BE SPOILERS.
When I first heard about The Empire of Corpses, I squealed in fangirlish glee because here was a whirlwind of things I love – Lavish animation! Steampunk! Creepy sci-fi! Anime! – wrapped up in one beautiful burst of a trailer. I mean look at this:
All this to say, I don’t know how you can take a film about steampunk science zombies and make it boring as hell, but this film did it with panache.
That panache is literally the only reason to watch The Empire of Corpses. The mechanical designs in the film, especially the analytical engines and Frankenstein’s book, are wonderfully complex, and the character designs are mostly fun, too, if sometimes distracting:
Literally everything else is a slow-burning mess.
The film had the basis for an interesting world. I really enjoyed how heavily the science relied on Charles Babbage’s analytical engine and variations to make Necroware – corpse technology – work. The very world of the movie also raises several interesting questions: How did people become so cool with the dead walking around and doing their chores? What about the living people that the dead put out of a job? Do the dead have basic human rights? What happens if the dead regain their souls and become sentient? What is the basis of a soul? Entire worlds of moral, economic, and spiritual questions are raised by the simple, wide presence of the reanimated dead.
Unfortunately the movie answers none of them in a satisfying way.
The first third of the movie, though the slowest part, is the best because it’s the part that presents the questions that it actually plans to address – namely those relating to the soul and how to reclaim it. (This is not a movie that is interested in socioeconomic world-building.)
However, the moment an isolated corpse engineer, Alexei Karamazov, kills one of Watson’s traveling companions to make a point about corpse engineering, the movie begins to tumble downhill fast. The deceased Nikolai Krasotkin is a character we’re supposed to like, but haven’t gotten time to know before his death, which is a problem that recurs in this movie. The death itself is also completely stupid and self-righteous. The reveal? In order to create a sentient, at least sort-of-ensouled corpse, one has to first lull and drug a living person, and then skewer their spinal cord with the Necroware so that they die (er, un-die?). Which kind of seems like the opposite of progress.
Nonetheless, Alexei skewers a still-living Nikolai to prove this point to Watson, then driven mad by this knowledge, skewers his own spinal cord with Necroware. Just before he proceeds to tell Watson where Frankenstein’s notes are, and that he must destroy them, all the while dying (or un-dying) all over the poor guy. Because obviously there was no easier way to relay this kind of information. 😐
The last time we see Alexei and Nikolai, they’re reanimated shells of their former selves, reenacting daily life with a creepy, soulless lack of direction. Because obviously the best way to carry out a madness-induced suicide is to do it with a machine that will bring you sort-of back to life. 😐 😐 😐
These egregious flaws-in-logic-for-the-sake-of-sort-of-horror-drama dominate and ruin the rest of the film. Nearly every time a new discovery is made, it raises a question that tears at the threads of the story’s world. Ooo, Lilith Hadaly has tech that can control corpses! Why was this not revealed like an hour ago? Why is it not in widespread use? Ooo, Thomas Edison created an automaton who is not only a babe but sentient enough that she can be sad about not having emotions? 😐 Screw light bulbs, why isn’t he making more of those? If complex automatons are even a thing that can happen, why bother reanimating smelly, stiff dead people at all? The very end of the movie shows Watson hooking himself up to his Necroware in hopes of reconnecting with Friday, which…ok how is that better than just staying alive and sentient and continuing research? I mean, as a viewer, I was glad for the implication that Watson was finally dead-ish (more on that later) because at least he wouldn’t be able to make any more stupid decisions that endanger the whole human race (like NOT BURNING THE FREAKING BOOK even after TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE almost succeed at TURNING THE WHOLE WORLD INTO FREAKING ZOMBIES WITH IT OMG.)
My whole review literally could have read as this:
With a heaping side of:
As if I didn’t ask why enough, the film is also peppered with more literary and scientific references than it had any reason to include. Frankenstein and Babbage were necessary to the plot, but Thomas Edison? John Watson? Both of those characters could have had different names without it having any effect on the story – except for an after-credits sequence, wherein John Watson (still somehow alive) is revealed to have befriended who else but Sherlock Holmes, and Lilith Hadaly is now going by the name of Irene Adler. This does give the movie the novelty of presenting the one Watson who is more insane than Holmes, but again:
That’s not even the end of it. The climax of the movie is the biggest mess, coming down to a corpse-control transmitter that can apparently transmit to the whole world at once, The One being interested in Frankenstein’s book because Bride of Frankenstein’s soul or something or other, both The One and a mysterious eyepatch dude agreeing that human emotions/souls cause all kind of problems and wouldn’t we all just be better off as lifeless zombie people anyway, and green soul magic wherein Friday regains a soul but it’s Frankenstein’s? Maybe? And then loses it? And then gains one again? And loses it, too? I didn’t even care by that point. The only thing I was really paying attention to was the admittedly badass organ that The One played while doing his soul science BS.
I’m in the minority with this review, most of the ones I read before watching being glowing reviews. To which I say: What secret, hidden version of the movie did you guys watch, and how do I get my hands on it?
The Empire of Corpses had the potential to be an excellent piece of steampunk horror sci-fi, but as is, it’s an example of every way not to be one.
Harmonia – Book Review
From book cover: At the heart of the city-state of Harmonia lies the castle for which the city was named. It is the fabled home of the four goddesses who formed the world of Elan and then guided its people to enlightenment. For centuries, the castle has been a landmark and tourist attraction, drawing in citizens from the neighboring countries daily. Most consider it a tourist attraction, doubting the legend of its divine origin, though a few still see it as place of holy significance.
It has been a time of peace and prosperity for the city and its people.
That time is over. The castle is no longer empty. The goddesses have returned.
And they are not alone.
Mixing epic fantasy, fable, and a bit of esoteric anachronism, Harmonia challenges the concepts of gods, religion, faith, society, life, good, evil, and humanity in a fast-paced and fun adventure, with a hint of darkness.
Brett Brooks’ Harmonia (The Champions of Elan #1) is one of the more interesting books I’ve read this year, but its appeal to other readers will be determined by whether that reader is a member of a very specific niche audience.
Though the description doesn’t immediately suggest it, Harmonia is definitely a title for the furry crowd. Though many of its main characters are human, its most iconic characters are an anthropomorphic fox, snake, eagle, and bear, and though these character types usually bring to mind children’s tales, this tale is anything but. Not that this is a surprise—the back of the book plainly declares “Parental guidance is advised”—but even this is a bit misleading. “Parental guidance advised” suggests that the ideal reader for this book still looks to parents for input on what they read.
There’s a hot lesbian sex scene between a fox woman and a snake woman in the first chapter of this book, y’all.
I do not recommend it for middle schoolers.
However, older readers who enjoy unique fantasies and furry fandom will find a lot to enjoy in it.
Harmonia has a fascinating world setup. When the goddesses return, the people are naturally surprised by it (being unbelievers), but I was interested to find that the goddesses’ representatives—the aforementioned anthropomorphic animals—are just as surprised. They know as little about their representative goddesses as the people. They know very little about the people, too, and a large part of their conflict is simply figuring out this new world and convincing people that, despite all appearances, they’re not dangerous. Granted, this means that the first half of the book is basically the people and the champions being all “Well now what?” but the unique world-building keeps it from being slow. There are also some truly amusing scenes within, the most notable being one in which Renarde (the fox woman) discovers whiskey for the first time and ends up leading half the city on a drunken chase through the streets.
The true conflict of the story doesn’t emerge until the last third of the book, but when it does, it comes from a truly unexpected place, and it dashes along at a slam-bang pace with plenty of twists and a truly cool villain.
The characters are what drive the story, more so than a particular problem. The champions’ personalities are quite opposite, but play well off each other. Some are stereotyped—I kept picturing Altair as Sam Eagle without much effort, and Renarde is as mischievous and sexy as one might expect a fox-based character to be—but others were pleasant surprises. Rather than being the brash tank that I expected, Porter the bear is shy and socially awkward, and the snake woman Thibann, rather than the slippery deceiver, is the regal voice of reason for the four. Each is also well-characterized through dialogue, with each having a notable verbal quirk or habit. Some flow more naturally than others—Altair’s clipped syllables felt a bit awkward at first, and Renarde’s nonstop giggly babble can become grating at times—but all provide a vivid picture of what the characters sound like, which is something I enjoyed. (After all, how often do authors evoke specific voices in readers’ heads?)
Also, though not a champion character, High Priestess Vera Foiya was one of my favorites, for reasons I’ll leave you to discover for yourself.
Finally, one perpetual concern with indie books is production quality; outside of some (albeit prominent) interior layout quirks, Harmonia ranks among the better-looking self-published books that I’ve seen.
The cover in particular is lovely to look at and can hold its own against other graphical covers of its type. The interior suffers a bit, with enough typos to notice, but few grammatical and punctuation errors. Most noticeably, the paragraphs are inexplicably un-indented, which was slightly distracting for me, but the text itself is easy to read and I really liked the bold design of the chapter-starter pages.
Overall, Harmonia’s not a read for everyone, but if you’re in the furry fandom, or if you enjoy quirky, original fantasy, it’s definitely worth a try. And if you enjoy it, there’s a sequel, Child of Shadows!
***
Disclosure: Holo Writing may be compensated for sales of products linked in this review.