Book Review

Abbott in Darkness – Book Review

December 31, 2022 by hpholo Leave a Comment

Never in my life did I think I’d enjoy a book about accounting adventures on a distant planet, but if anyone can change my mind, it’s D.J. Butler.

In Abbott in Darkness, John Abbott is drowning in academic debt, but has a solid chance to pay it off through his new job with the interstellar Sarovar Company. Trouble is, that company operates in a solar system forty light-years from Earth, and he and his family have given up everything just to get there. He has to make this job work, or else they’ll be stranded light-years from home with little hope of ever going back.

But making the job work will be more dangerous than anyone expected.

John might be a humble forensic accountant, and he might have been assigned to secretly investigate corruption and theft at an isolated outpost—but the trouble he uncovers is far more complex than simple careless greed. It’s a plot that could shake human presence on this planet to its core, and thus his family with it. With those kinds of stakes, leaving the problem for someone else just isn’t an option—but none of the solutions presented are simple ones, and soon John must decide whether he wants to do what’s best for his family … or do the right thing.

It should be noted: Epic space opera and rip-roaring adventure, Abbott in Darkness is not, so set those genre expectations aside right now. What Abbott in Darkness is is a refreshingly grounded science fiction novel that takes a realistic look at what it might be like to uproot one’s family to the other side of the galaxy, and then have to deal with the ramifications of a political situation one didn’t even know to expect. There is resultant action and adventure—and parts of the novel are quite intense—but it’s not adventure sci-fi so much as the tale of a normal guy trying to make his way through a potentially deadly situation using normal guy means, and the way it balances these elements makes it one of my favorite novels of the year.

On the sci-fi end, Butler has crafted a planet that is both familiar enough to support Earthly life, but alien enough to seem genuinely foreign—especially in terms of the aliens themselves. The Sarovar Company’s success in the solar system hinges upon the production of Sarovari Weave, an intensely durable fabric produced by the native Weavers. From a human perspective, the Weavers are familiar only in that they’re vaguely crab like; they are barely capable of human language, with mouths only able to form simple words in the local pidgin, such that all trade is conducted through combinations of pidgin and pantomime.

Sarovari Pidgin itself plays a substantial role in the novel, too; since John eventually wants to make his fortune as a trader in Weave, he naturally must become versed in the language—and it ends up having lifesaving usefulness when his investigation leads him to have several dangerous run-ins with some Weavers. It’s not merely a cosmetic conlang, either. There was a part of the climax where I had to keep zipping back and forth between the page and glossary to keep up with the specifics of what was going on, and I loved seeing the language put to such essential use. (There were context clues in the scenes, of course, but anyone who’s familiar with my reviews by this point knows that I would shoot fictional languages into my veins if it were not more practical to just, you know, read them. 😂)

Avoiding spoilers, by the end, the entire book hinges upon John’s ability to wield this language (if inexpertly), gain a new and thus-far-unheard-of understanding of the Weavers’ needs and challenges, and bend all those things under the power of compromise. It’s an exciting book, and there are some wildly exciting and heroic moments near the end, but the heart of the book’s conflict is solved by unexpected (nonviolent) means, and this was one of the things I enjoyed most about it.

Another of my favorite elements is how present John’s family is in the story. It’s very easy for novels of this nature to say “The hero arrived with his family” and then push the family off to the background so the protagonist can do hero stuff—but John’s wife Ruth, his daughters Ellie and Sunitha, and even the family dog Animoosh are all visible and active elements in the story. Ruth is a stalwart pillar of support in John’s life, unafraid to ask pointed questions when necessary, and their precocious, curious daughters provide a vehicle by which to transmit useful exposition to the reader, while also charming the reader—while also reminding John of what he’s fighting to protect, especially when subtle dangers began to creep into the mundane corners of their lives.

There are more than a few scenes where the family gets involved in the dangerous action—namely during a field trip gone awry, and especially during the second half of the climax—and seeing them work together for survival as a unit without becoming an adventure movie stereotype became one of the most delightful elements of the novel (once I got my heart rate back down).

Finally, John himself is an admirable regular guy hero, fiercely loyal to his family—but also the sort of man who will look situations that benefit them in the face and ask “Is this right?” The Sarovar Company’s presence in the Sarovar solar system is one predicated on the Weave trade, rather than imperial expansion of territory, but in the course of his investigation, John uncovers some problems that echo those that usually emerge in the process of colonization. The Company doesn’t interact much with Weavers outside of trade, so they’re not being actively exploited—but non-Company-affiliated human residents (which are something of a mystery in themselves) tend to be denied opportunities to succeed in the same way Company transplants do, in a way that ensures John’s own earnings stay high, and also contributes to one of the many complex conflicts bubbling under the surface of this generally quiet world. The company’s reasoning isn’t nefarious so much as practical, but it is a situation that makes someone with John’s moral character take a step back and say, “There has to be a solution where all parties can benefit without harming each other”—and then use the resources at his disposal to seek it out when all the conflicts threaten to bubble into actual violence.

John Abbott is very much a character who doesn’t want to be a hero, but sees when things need to be done and takes it upon himself to do them. That he does so while struggling with the complex morality of it makes him an even stronger character, and frankly one I’d like to see more of in fiction in general.

All this to say, Abbott in Darkness is a refreshingly grounded tale of a common family facing the worst on a planet far from home, and rising to the occasion. It’s a must-read for fans of reluctant heroes in extraordinary situations.

Wraithkin – Book Review

July 30, 2022 by holojacob Leave a Comment

Now that I’ve reached a little slow point in my writing schedule, I’ve been able to use that time to read a little more.

One of my most recent reads was Wraithkin, a military sci-fi novel by Jason Cordova and the first book in his ongoing Kin Wars Saga. The book starts out on the slow side, but the action and drama both ramp up steadily before ending in a satisfying bang.

Well, numerous bangs, because this is mil sci-fi after all.

One of the things Cordova gets right is how much misfortune he heaps onto his main character, Gabriel Espinoza. Gabriel (who is given the hilarious nickname of “Omelet” during what is essentially space trooper boot camp) is the kind of person the universe will kick in the groin when he least expects it, and then kick him again while he’s down just for the chuckles. Repeatedly. Seriously, the poor guy is put through more than enough to break lesser men. But he’s someone who can take it, who will rise to face any challenge head on no matter how daunting or demoralizing, and that makes him a great character to follow and root for.

When interstellar war hits close to home, Gabriel enlists to join the Wraiths, an elite group of power-armored soldiers who do not mess around! That much is made clear when one Wraith recruit mouths off to their drill sergeant, and the sergeant kills the cadet by breaking his neck! Yikes! And then, because Gabriel is the misery magnet that he is, he’s given the task of carting the trash (a.k.a. the body of his fellow recruit) to the incinerator.

The novel does have a few rough edges. There’s the previously mentioned slow buildup at the beginning, and a few uneven patches in the prose. Wraithkin is one of Cordova’s earlier works, and I think it shows here and there, but that said, his strong instincts as a storyteller shine through the minor bumps in the novel’s execution, successfully pulling me into the story and investing me in Gabriel’s fate.

Speaking of which, Gabriel gets knocked down, both physically and emotionally, and the good guys don’t always win. Don’t go into this novel expecting sunshine and rainbows at the end of the road, but if you like your military sci-fi grim, gritty, and intense, then I think you’ll enjoy your time with Wraithkin. I did.

Library of the Sapphire Wind – Book Review

July 8, 2022 by hpholo Leave a Comment

There’s a meme that occasionally graces my social media feeds, lamenting that so many fictional heroes are unqualified teenagers, wishing for a story that follows an old grandma with the benefit of experience on her side.

Jane Lindskold’s Library of the Sapphire Wind has become the book I recommend whenever I see this meme.

In Library of the Sapphire Wind, Meg, Peg, and Teg are three ladies of retirement age and the only people in attendance at a book club when, suddenly, they find themselves transported to another world—summoned by three precocious youths who were hoping for mentors from their own world to help with various weighty problems. The three book clubbers, however, are the first humans this animal-headed trio has ever seen, and they’re not sure what to make of them.

However, Meg, Peg, and Teg are also three ladies with useful experience of their own, and they reason that, since they’ve been summoned to an alternate magical world to help solve a problem, they might as well see what they can do.

After all, it’s more exciting than regular retirement could ever be.

And as a former librarian, a semi-retired archaeologist, and a dedicated parent and grandparent to generations of children, they might be more qualified than even they realize, especially when the magic of the summons points them toward the isolated, destroyed ruin of the titular Library of the Sapphire Wind—along with the young summoners they have to manage on the way.

I can’t gush enough about this book, y’all.

I knew I was going to like it from page one because, let’s face it, librarians, archaeologists, and cool grandmas make for great characters in any type of story—but then the mini talking carrier pterodactyl showed up, and then a discussion of the magical translation linguistics of the world of “Over Where” (as the main characters dub it), and I’m a sucker for linguistics and pterodactyls, too.

My personal reading preferences aside, though, this is a more complex book than I expected it to be.

The animal-head motif that defines the residents of Over Where makes the book seem like it’s going to be a fun storybook adventure—and it definitely is a fun adventure—but fox-headed Vereez, stag-headed Grunwold, and lion-headed Xerak all have reasons for summoning aid that are darker and more complicated than the book’s colorful cover would suggest.

And while this tale told from the viewpoint of these three would likely present them as the heroes of their own stories, the tale as told by Meg, Peg, and Teg is one of how these characters need to mature, and how the three help them do so along the way. Which isn’t to say that Vereez, Grunwold, and Xerak are children in the conventional sense—Over Where has a different understanding of such rites of passage, where adulthood is not reached at a specific age but by the acquisition of a mature state of mind. Thematically, this raises the question of what it even means to be an adult, with each maturing character yielding a different answer, and often expressing maturity that is surprising for their relative ages. (When one young character speaks of a complicated romantic association, it’s to say, “There’s good in him. I’m just not sure it’s good for me.”)

It’s as much a tale of adventure as it is a tale of three mentors helping three adolescents grow up, and taking their jobs very seriously. There’s also a not-so-subtle jab at famous fantasy mentors like Dumbledore who send young protagonists off to do dangerous world-saving things without giving them useful guidance, such that I wonder if the book wasn’t entirely written as a reaction to such mentors.

That doesn’t mean it’s a book one reads for its Important Themes, though. Library of the Sapphire Wind is ultimately a book of complex, thoughtful points wrapped up in an adventure that is just plain fun. There are plenty of exotic locations for the main characters to explore; the Library itself is as cool as one would expect a magical library to be (complete with its own sentient, incorporeal guardian, from which it draws its name); and the variety of monsters the characters face as they travel to and excavate the library are as enthralling as any that ever captured young imaginations in children’s stories (Mine, at least; I’m a sucker for monsters, too).

The depth to which the worldbuilding goes is hypnotic, as well. Much is made of the summoning spell’s translation magic and how the characters must adapt—and thus learn more about each other’s worlds—when the magic doesn’t know how to translate specific words or concepts. There are also plenty of wonderful background details that don’t necessarily contribute anything to the story (yet—there’s a sequel, Aurora Borealis Bridge) but still serve to flesh out the world of Over Where as a living, breathing character of its own. One of my favorite such details was the setting’s concept of reincarnation: Over Where is a world where reincarnation is such an accepted (and proven) occurrence that it exists casually in the background, and though there are different subdivisions of the related belief system that disagree over some specifics, the concept in this setting is also wholly separate from theology. (“What do gods have to do with it? Gods are for crops, moral guidance, explaining how things got started, stuff like that,” as one character says.) It doesn’t affect the story at all that much except to explain why one character lives in a necropolis community (which exists because of those subdivisions trying to influence reincarnation through the treatment of interred bodies), but it’s still a really cool look into the spiritual and physical logic of the world.

Though, perhaps, given the age of the main characters, reflections on mortality are not wholly out of place—especially when one considers other inevitable effects of age, and in turn how those affect the storytelling.

Though Library of the Sapphire Wind is ultimately an interesting fantasy adventure, it’s not a rollicking quest to beat a conspicuous bad guy in a Hollywood-style castle-crashing battle (though the characters do see their fair share of dangerous encounters and action scenes). Meg, Peg, and Teg are not reckless, daring heroes who barge into danger without thinking. Age and experience has made them careful and sensible (if sometimes to the chagrin of their young companions), and the novel flows at a calm, fluid pace that reflects that sense of care. And yet it’s never boring, but rather appreciative, introspective, and always enjoying the ride—and encouraging its readers to do so as well.

Library of the Sapphire Wind is easily one of my new favorite books. It expertly balances the thoughtful maturity of its older protagonists with the eager energies of its young ones. Combine that with its infectious sense of wonder, and it becomes something the fantasy world needs more of.

Aries’ Red Sky – Book Review

June 24, 2022 by hpholo Leave a Comment

Ok, I’ve gotta thank James Young for his patience, ‘cause he sent me an audio code for this book years ago and I’ve spent all that time and multiple listens trying to articulate a review for this thing.

Aries’ Red Sky is a grand, galaxy-spanning take of interstellar politics, war, and the humans that are tossed about in the resulting maelstrom. On one side is the Spartan Republic, which emerged after fleeing the earth in the wake of an oppressive empire. That empire has since been lost to the ages, but some of its spirit remains in The Confederation of Man, which is Earth-centric in manners beyond the mere location:

It holds that all people deriving from Earth belong to Earth—i.e. under the Confederation’s thumb.

And the Spartan Republic has no interest in belonging to anything but itself.

One of the things that made Aries’ Red Sky so difficult to review is, simply, how complex it is. This is not a pew-pew special effects vomit space opera. This is a “You meet characters from both the Spartan Republic and the Confederation and get to like them on a personal level before realizing, ‘Oh, sh*t … they’re gonna war, aren’t they’?” space opera. It’s also a “Yes, the Spartan Republic is generally more sympathetic because of its willingness to fight for its freedom, but there are some real scumbags among its political leaders, too, and here’s a look at how they’re willing to stab the rare competent politicians to benefit themselves, even if it’ll literally result in interstellar war” space opera.

There is tension in every single corner of this novel, and if you’re familiar with Young’s writing, you know he’s going to milk that for all the drama it’s worth. He has a talent for writing heart-wrenching heroic sacrifice and death scenes, and he knows it, and I imagine he allows himself a little devilish grin every time his readers notice.

The strength of this book, though, is that the drama is never restricted to one “good guy” side. Even if the reader is more inclined to root for the Spartans on a philosophical scale, the very human sufferings of both its and the Confederation’s individual characters bring a very realistic and wrenching perspective to the conflict—especially since the ultimate point of the book’s conflict isn’t to win a war, but to stop a war from happening. The amount of sacrifice that goes into merely avoiding galaxy-spanning war is much of the tragedy of this book, especially when one considers that some of the tension is derived from simple misunderstandings and conflicts of military standards. (One side, for example, has a stricter definition of how surrender works, especially with regards to how captured enemies are expected to behave, and when the other fights back without knowing that … unintended trouble ensues.)

Even though the characters’ goal is to prevent a war, the book carries a heavy theme of “War is hell, and it’s especially hellish in vacuum.”

All that said, it’s not a book you read at night for fun while nodding off to sleep. There’s lots to keep up with narratively, militarily, politically, and interpersonally, and the complexity of it is delicious for people who are looking for that sort of book.

But it’s not even close to an easy read.

Still, Young balances the heaviness of the darker conflict with some astute, intelligent, sometimes coy worldbuilding, and some fun easter eggs. (The Lin-Manuel Miranda fan in me was delighted to meet one character attending a Lin-Manuel Miranda Day performance … at a theatre thousands of years in the future on the other side of the galaxy.) There are also elements of the political worldbuilding that are clearly inspired by the frustrations of modern politics—there’s a limitation on how many people from the same political family are allowed to serve, for example, and formal duels are an accepted method of resolving grievances—but it’s never overbearing, and in general the political squabbles are unique to the context of the setting, rather than direct commentaries on modern politics.

Finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t lavish some praise on Jennifer Jill Araya’s audio narration. She handles a variety of accents and characters—and songs—with aplomb, and while the basic text of Aries’ Red Sky is engaging, I have to say that she makes the audiobook my preferred version.

Also, a fun bit of trivia: Not only does Jacob’s name have a cameo near the end, but his character sings, and it’s a song about a unit called the Obstinate Otters. (There’s a reason these two magnets are prominent on my fridge.)

All in all, Aries’ Red Sky is a great book, and for readers of complex military space opera, it’s a genuine treat.

Cinnamon Bun – Book Review

April 17, 2022 by hpholo Leave a Comment

I’m slowly making my way through my massive LitRPG backlog, and this month’s book was Cinnamon Bun by RavensDigger! 😀

Admittedly, it took me a while to get into this one. It bills itself as a wholesome LitRPG, and it’s definitely that.

In fact, despite being eager to embark on the adventures promised by the new world she’s been dropped into, the main character Broccoli Bunch is initially hesitant to kill monsters out of a general discomfort with the idea of killing things, and spends a significant chunk of the early book literally leveling up her Cleaning skill. She discovers some neat uses for said Cleaning skill – for example, it’s unexpectedly useful against the undead – but it’s still just … cleaning. 😐 Hours of it. 😐😐😐

Still, Broccoli Bunch herself is such a sweetly endearing character that I powered through that part of the book. (And honestly, I do a lot of my audiobook listening while I’m doing chores anyway, so it felt strangely appropriate.)

I’m glad I did, too, because once she starts meeting other characters and exploring different areas of the world she’s in, the reader is introduced to a genuinely fun fantasy setting with one of the more interesting magic systems I’ve encountered in LitRPG. I generally don’t pay attention to stats and other such details in LitRPGs because they just don’t interest me, but RavensDigger works that information into the story in such a way that it feels natural, as opposed to a numbers and information dump, which I appreciated.

Despite my initial impression, I now actually consider it one of my favorite LitRPGs and will probably continue to the next once I’m in the mood for it – and you do have to be in the mood for a story of its type.

It’s very gentle LitRPG for readers who mostly just want a cute, relaxing read, as opposed to an action-packed adventure. However, within those limitations, it does what it aims to do very well, and I appreciate that about it, too. Also, aside from some mild bad language, it’s clean enough that it could easily be recommended to kids (even though it doesn’t necessarily feel like it was written for kids), so it could be a good book to hand to a youngling you want to introduce to LitRPG.

I don’t consider Cinnamon Bun a LitRPG must-read, but I do recommend it highly to readers who are looking for a story of its unique type. 😄

Dungeon Crawler Carl – Book Review

February 20, 2022 by hpholo Leave a Comment

I just finished listening to Matt Dinniman’s Dungeon Crawler Carl, and Y’ALL. If you have not experienced the audio version of this book specifically, you’re missing out on a treat.

Dungeon Crawler Carl is a LitRPG series-starter in which, in the blink of an eye, most of Earth’s population is obliterated and the planet is converted into a massive dungeon. Why? So the aliens about to claim its resources can watch, reality show style, as the last humans scramble for survival.

While it’s primarily an action-adventure novel, there’s a healthy dose of absurd comedy in it, too, and that balance of serious struggle and wacky humor is what makes it soar.

I knew this book was going to be a new favorite the moment I learned that Carl has a cat companion named Princess Donut. Who has better stats than him. And talks. With the accent of a pampered 19th Century British aristocrat. For that matter, the voice that narrator Matt Hays assigns to Carl’s inner monologue reminds me vaguely of Patrick Warburton – best known to me as Kronk from The Emperor’s New Groove – and that alone was reason enough for me to start the book.

What kept me listening, though, was how unexpectedly complex this book became. Sure, there’s plenty of crazy dungeon-crawling antics. But there’s also a fair amount of moral complexity to it, and an underlying question of how many terrible deeds a person can commit before they cease to be human (even if those deeds are necessary for survival).

And as the story goes on, you realize that there’s far more to the novel’s world than it first seems. Not all of the aliens helping to run the dungeon are there because they want to be. And Carl learns that his some of his actions in this dungeon might be influencing intergalactic politics whether he wants them to or not.

In every single one of my LitRPG Facebook groups, this book dominates recommendation discussions, and now that I’ve experienced it, I can say it deserves every single one of those recommendations. If you like LitRPG, or just a hilarious adventure with a surprising bit of depth, you should absolutely read Dungeon Crawler Carl.

Grave Mercy – Book Review

December 19, 2020 by hpholo Leave a Comment

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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Halfway Dead – Book Review

April 4, 2020 by hpholo Leave a Comment

If 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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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.

Con Me Once – Book Review

February 1, 2020 by hpholo Leave a Comment

Rauch 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.

Easy to be a God – Book Review

April 23, 2019 by hpholo Leave a Comment

In Robert J. Szmidt’s Easy to be a God, humanity has been expanding through the universe for 300 years, and not once has it encountered any other form of intelligent life – until a rough-and-tumble salvaging crew stumbles upon the 50,000-year-old remains of the first…and comes to regret it.
It’s not the last time humanity encounters alien life, though the next is significantly different – two civilizations that are still so planet-bound and primitive that humanity hesitates to interact with either, lest it negatively affect the development of the two. Trouble is, the two civilizations are about to engage in a war that could end up being genocidal for both, and some of the observers cannot let that stand. Acting under the name – and in the capacity of – Gods, they deliver messages and technology to the aliens under the humans’ watch, hoping to avert an atrocity.
In the midst of all this is Henryan Swiecki. He’s been assigned to thwart those interfering Gods, but his own situation is not so simple. He secretly agrees with the logic behind Gods’ actions, but if he fails, he’ll be sent back to one of the most psychologically oppressive prisons in human history, with no hope of escape. Between challenges to his morality and threats against his very life, he has quite a task ahead of him…
I read Easy to be a God on the recommendation of a friend and found it to be well worth the recommendation, but it’s a book that requires some effort. I had to read it twice to fully appreciate it, first because it’s divided into three wildly different parts that don’t seem to have any connection to each other until halfway through the book, second because it features two of the most truly alien cultures I’ve encountered in sci-fi. Neither of these are flaws in the long run, but if you don’t know to expect them, they can make for a challenging (and sometimes frustrating) first read. However, in the end, they all add up to quite an intriguing hard sci-fi novel.
The novel opens up on Nike Stachursky, a top graduate of the Federation Fleet Academy who, after some…ill-advised activity with the Admiral’s youngest daughter finds himself assigned to the Recycling Corps – a salvage unit with such a high casualty rate that it’s not-so-ironically referred to as the Recycling Corpse. There he finds himself amidst the ragtag crew of the FSS Nomad, beneath the coarse but weirdly charismatic Captain Henrichard Morrissey, as they search the wrecks of old battlefields for salvageable loot, and soon happen upon something altogether unexpected.
This section sets up a fun space adventure with a colorful, irreverent cast that could have easily carried through the whole novel, so you can imagine my disappointment when, just after the most exciting part of their own story, they’re dropped for a story and setting so alien that I first thought I’d accidentally opened up a different book (more on that later). Still, the characters make great use of what little time they have in the novel. Nike is a smart (if not exactly sensible) protagonist; Captain Morrissey is one of those odd characters who is a total asshole and yet so hilariously written that he becomes likable; and all the characters in between bounce off each other like a close-knit pirate family (which is essentially what they are).
It’s when their story takes a turn for the dark, though, that it becomes truly intriguing. What starts as the discovery of the “El Dorado” of spaceship hauls reveals that humans aren’t alone in the universe – and maybe haven’t been for a long time. Recollections of other salvage teams that were silenced after certain discoveries leads the crew to wonder if this perhaps wasn’t humanity’s first encounter with alien life – if the Federation has, in fact, known and been covering it up for some reason.
That dark thought aside, certain circumstances of the discovery lead the Nomad‘s chaplain in particular to have a distinct crisis of faith, with even darker implications for humanity.
Unfortunately, the novel never explores those characters or their discoveries beyond this point.
Instead it rockets without preamble into a meeting of the alien Suhurs, who are dealing with their own religious experience – a “Thunder Sower” gifted by the “Spirits of the Mountains” to one of the lowest-ranking members of their society (as opposed to a priest). Here Szmidt has created one of the most fascinating alien species and cultures that I’ve read about in recent sci-fi, with anatomies so unlike those of earth creatures that all Suhur sections necessitate multiple readings. Szmidt doesn’t hold the reader’s hand through these sections either, introducing the aliens with an avalanche of unfamiliar terms and expecting us to rely on context to figure out the relevant information. In retrospect, it’s a pretty cool way to make the reader realize, “Oh hey, these aliens are really alien, not just humans in prosthetics and makeup.” However, on the flipside, it did make for a frustrating initial read, especially since the shift comes out of nowhere following a group of characters we’ve grown to like and whose story has no connection to that of the Suhurs.
And especially since, immediately after, we’re introduced to yet another brand new set of characters. It was at this point on my first read when I began to wonder if any of the stories in this novel would actually connect, particularly because the fourth major shift seems to introduce another new character. (It doesn’t, just an established character using a pseudonym.) Fortunately, except for the first, most of the storylines ultimately do connect, but the abrupt way in which the novel as a whole is structured and the fairly slow reveals of how it all comes together might be enough to turn impatient readers off.
This is perhaps the novel’s greatest flaw; though it is an interesting novel, its very structure risks frustrating readers before they even get to the heart of the main storyline.
That storyline centers around Henryan Swiecki, who was a captain in the Federation Fleet before a corrupt officer allowed forty-two soldiers – including Swiecki’s brother – to die in a depressurization incident solely to hide evidence that he’d been involved in illicit dealings. When the officer escapes justice, Henryan takes it into his own hands, shooting him point-plank and killing him instantly.
This lands him in the Sturgeon Belt, perhaps the cruelest penal colony in the universe, with a warden so sadistically harsh that his prisoners routinely strive to commit suicide…but rarely get the chance in the colony’s tightly-structured and technologically-reinforced schedule (another element of the warden’s sadism). When Swiecki eases himself further onto the warden’s bad side, his punishment is to be in charge of preventing attempted suicides, which does nothing to endear him to the other prisoners – but what choice does he have when his failure results in unimaginable torture? The warden takes enormous pleasure in making Swiecki suffer in whatever way he can, physically and psychologically.
Which is why Swiecki is surprised to suddenly be summoned away from the Sturgeon Belt on orders that even the warden can’t ignore.
Under a new name, he’s been assigned at the space station Xan 4 to help with a secret project: The Federation Fleet has discovered its first (that is, “first”) two alien species and is observing them from afar – never interfering – as the Suhurs and rival Gurds prepare for what is sure to be a genocidal war. That’s not his only secret project, though. As mentioned earlier, the real reason he’s been summoned is to help root out the dissidents acting as Gods and interfering with the operation. His situation becomes even more complicated when Gods tries to recruit him, and he has to decide which he values more: his sense of morality, or avoiding the torture prison at all costs.
What follows is a complicated tale switching between the Suhurs and Gurds as they prepare for battle and Swiecki as he plays both Gods and the Federation to his advantage. At points, it’s almost like reading a spy novel with aliens. Though not as fun and likable as the human cast on the Nomad, Swiecki is capable and fierce, fueled by the disproportionate injustice done to him (and his brother and fellow soldiers), and determined that no one’s going to take advantage of him. If you’re looking to read about a character who takes no crap, he’s it, and you can’t help but cheer when he sticks it to anyone who tries to manipulate him.
All this said, Easy to be a God is ultimately a satisfying, entertaining read, albeit far from a leisurely one. It’s demanding of its reader; there’s a lot to unpack within its pages, and some readers will be frustrated by its structure and untied story threads. (As a small note, there are also enough translation quirks to notice – strange turns of phrase, unusual punctuation choices, etc. – which may be distracting for some). There are subsequent books, though, so one would expect that such threads are tied up in those. Unfortunately, as of this writing, the series seems to have gone out of print in English, but if you happen to come upon a copy, this one’s a challenging, recommended read.

Self-Publishing for Profit – Book Review

February 18, 2018 by hpholo Leave a Comment

These days, “How to Self-Publish” books are a dime a dozen. Chris Kennedy’s Self-Publishing for Profit is $6.99 on Kindle, but it’s easily the best $6.99 you’ll ever spend if you’re looking to break into self-publishing.
Kennedy’s writing background is similar to that of many indie writers, which is to say, he’d never really been a writer until he suddenly had an idea that wouldn’t let go (in this case, the idea that became his book Red Tide: The Chinese Invasion of Seattle). Since then, he’s gone from never having written a novel at all to writing several series and an ever-growing universe with several other authors and running his own publishing house. All this said, it makes him a perfect teacher for new writers who are starting in a similar position.
This is what makes Self-Publishing for Profit stand out from other self-publishing books. Though its first three sections focus on information similar to what you’d find in other books – namely, marketing and engagement – the fourth is where the book becomes truly valuable for writing newbies. It outlines everything from how to figure out what kind of book you should write (Tip: Don’t just follow trends, and try to be niche when you can.), to creative writing tips he learned through trial and error, to a section literally titled “How Not to Look Like a Newbie.” Formally-trained writers won’t have much use for this section, but if you’ve barely ever picked up a pencil except to write a grocery list, this is the section for you.
Formally-trained writers, depending upon their experience with book production, will have some use for the fifth section, which outlines how to perfect a book for publication. This section covers the different types of editing (copyediting and content editing), how to go about finding editors, words to avoid, and simple ways to tighten up your writing. Before I started publishing, writing had been one of the defining elements of my life – the people around me have identified me as “the writer” since 4th grade, and I took as many creative writing classes as I could and even majored in creative writing at one point – and there were a few practical tips in this book that I hadn’t come across even in my years of study!
These sections, then, are a gem for the new and inexperienced writer. The subsequent sections, however, are invaluable for writers of all kinds. Sections six through nine cover the important details one must consider to give a book the best chance of selling. Section six covers basics like cover design, while section seven covers how to make the book available for sale as an eBook. Section eight, though, is where this area begins to shine, covering the many ways in which books can be repackaged for sale – as print books, audiobooks, or foreign-language editions – and providing the reader with the resources to make those versions happen. This is perhaps the most valuable thing about this book – for every piece of advice given, there are links to resources where readers can pursue that topic further. Section nine delves back into marketing, and the book ends with section ten, which explores what to do next, whether you want to continue producing books, or whether you want to figure out why your current book isn’t selling as well as you’d hoped.
All in all, Self-Publishing for Profit stuffs a whole lot of information into a small, quick, easy-to-read package. If you want to self-publish but have no idea where to start, this is a great place, and even if you already publish, it can’t hurt to give it a read. You’re bound to learn something new!
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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.

Entwined – Book Review

November 23, 2017 by hpholo Leave a Comment

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.
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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/
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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.