So far, The Dragons of Jupiter has received 15 reader reviews: 10 on Amazon, 3 on Goodreads, and 2 on Smashwords. The response has been overwhelmingly positive, with an average rating of 4.8 stars out of 5. It’s absolutely wonderful to hear from people who enjoyed the story, and that certainly makes all the hard work feel worth it. Here are some excerpts from recent reviews:
“An excellent futuristic military science fiction novel that does not just deal with the larger struggle between planets but the personal struggle between the main characters.”
“I finished it very quickly and when I did have to put it down, I looked forward to being able to get back to reading it.”
“This book contains a lot of action (and gory violence!), some drama, and a whole lot of suspense and thrill. It was well-written and even contains some passages that make you think about family, what it means to be a human, the concept of God, and religion.”
I’m particular happy to receive that last comment. Not bad for a novel that’s 90% about action and explosions, I think. 🙂
On a more personal note, H.P. and I arranged to have the local library carry my book. And wouldn’t you believe it, but there is a waiting list for my book at the library! Granted, it’s not a huge waiting list, just three people in the queue last we checked. But still. Seriously. A waiting list for my book? This is awesome! Piece by piece, word about my book is spreading, and this is how it makes me feel.
Oh yeah, I brought out the big smiley face! But don’t think that H.P. and I are just going to sit back and relax. Heck no! We’ve been hard at work. Not only are we getting close to releasing Time Reavers, but we’re also working on a revised cover for The Dragons of Jupiter. Robert Chew’s artwork still takes center stage, but H.P. and I have learned a lot about what goes into a good cover, and we’re putting those lessons to work with an improved graphic design.
I think you’re going to like it!
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Book Review
The Dragons of Jupiter – New Amazon Reviews! Five Stars!
Two new five star reviews for The Dragons of Jupiter! That makes three on Amazon.com!
Review by: ChemTeach
Great Action Story
Jacob Holo is a wonderful story teller. Even in this futuristic setting with all kinds of cool tech toys for the warriors, the characters’ personalities still pop. There is not one false or phony turn in this action-packed story of two brothers. I highly recommend this book to anyone looking for a well-constructed plot with great characters.
Review by: John Bingham
Really good cover to cover
I bought it to check out a new author and was really glad to see we have a young and upcoming author who has a great way with sci-fi and keeping it interesting. The story line was easy to follow and moved along without dragging. Can’t wait to see what he comes up with next!
Both reviews are for the paperback edition. You can see the reviews here on Amazon.com.
Awesome! Two more five star reviews and two more satisfied customers! And you know what this means? Yep, I’m breaking out the big smiley face!
So who’s in the mood for an action-packed novel? The Dragons of Jupiter is a tale of two brothers who must face each other in a war-ravaged future. If you like your sci-fi novels full of intense battles and bitter, personal conflicts, then this book is for you.
Those who enjoy calm, sedate novels full of peace and harmony may wish to look elsewhere. 🙂
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The Dragons of Jupiter: Another Reader Review! Five Stars!
I just got my first Amazon.com reader review for The Dragons of Jupiter! Here it is.
Review by: L Ingraham
Rich and Original
Very good read. This book takes you on a wild roller coaster ride through the Solar System with action and adventure at every turn. Jacob Holo paints a detailed picture of the future that is rich in story and original in its content.
The review is for the paperback edition and can be seen here.
Again, what can I say? I think I can call this another satisfied customer. Thank you, L Ingraham. I’m very happy you enjoyed the book!
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Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor – Book Review
Sometimes there are books that you like. And sometimes there are books that you love so much, you want to run around the library screaming their praises and wondering why they’ve only been checked out twice because OMG THEY ARE AWESOME and why wouldn’t anyone want to pick them up because OMGTHEYAREJUSTTHATAWESOME,YOUGUYSdssfhsjfjkseyrkjhs !!1!!1@
😀
This was my reaction to Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor.
In Akata Witch, Sunny is a girl who just doesn’t fit in. She’s composed of dramatically conflicting opposites. She was born in bustling New York City, but now lives in quiet Nigeria. Though she looks African, she differs in one big way—She’s albino. Because of this, she stands out everywhere she goes. She’s also super-sensitive to the sun, so much so that she can’t play soccer during daylight—which is even more frustrating because it’s her favorite sport, and she’s a fantastic athlete. She’s a fantastic student, too, but her teacher seems determined to punish her for it by having her strike the hands of students who don’t score as well on their work. The other students hate her. They call her “akata witch,” “akata” being a word meaning “bush animal” (and being equivalent in insult to a racially-charged term familiar in the US). She hates being different. But one day, she has a vision of the end of the world, and she learns that she may be different for a reason: She is a Leopard Person, and a special one at that.
Leopard People go by many names throughout the world, but all are people with magical abilities. Sunny is a special sort of Leopard Person known as a free agent—a Leopard Person without Leopard relatives, who, thus being a seemingly random creation, possesses magic of unpredictable strength. She must learn to use her magic well and fast, for the area has been riddled with a series of mysterious and gruesome child murders, and she may have a closer connection to them than she realizes…
Much of my love for this book, I actually attribute to Pottermore.com. I read chapters of Akata Witch between messing around on chapters of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone on said site because—let’s face it—as exciting as J.K. Rowling’s Big Announcement was a few years ago, Pottermore is all kinds of boring unless you’re a fanatical Potterhead. But I am only a moderately fanatical Potterhead, and in my 20s, so Pottermore is boring. (Now can we please have the Harry Potter MMO that everyone wanted Pottermore to be? Thanks.) Anyway, breezing between chapters of Pottermore and Akata Witch led me to the following series of realizations: “OMG Leopard Knocks is totally Diagon Alley! OMG These textbooks are like mini-monsters, too! OMG The juju knives are totally wands! They’re even divas about who gets to use them! OMG the Leopard People love brainy people like Hermione! OMG The Zuma International Wrestling Finals are totally Leopard Quiddich! OMG The Funky Train is totally the Knight Bus!” (You laugh, but admit it—you’d ride the Funky Train if you had the chance, solely because of its name.)
With these similarities, one would think “Oh, this book is just a ripoff of Harry Potter!” But the truly magical thing about it is that it’s not. The similarities between Akata Witch and Harry Potter, ironically, evolve into distinct differences because of the way Okorafor treats them. In fact, in addition to borrowing many of the things that I love about Harry Potter, it takes a lot of things that I hate about Harry Potter, and then turns them on their ear and does them better. It even takes the things Harry Potter does well and does them better. “How?” you may ask. And then you may add, “WHAT IS THIS BLASPHEMY?” But read on…
Let’s start with one of its subtler similarities, which is the series’ integral and vivid sense of setting. Harry Potter crossed hundreds of cultural boundaries to gain its popularity, but ultimately it remained a very British series. Take away the scarves; heavy, snowy winters; and dark, castle-like boarding school and you simply do not have the same reading experience. That said, just as Harry Potter could not take place in a non-British-inspired setting and still render the same story, Akata Witch could not be set anywhere but Nigeria and work. It is the African elements, combined with the sheer imagination surrounding them, that make this novel a great read.
As for the similarities that Akata Witch improves upon, the biggest is this: Both series clearly value the pursuit of knowledge. Harry Potter would have died in book one if Hermione Granger’s brain hadn’t been there to save him, and Sunny’s friend Orlu perfectly expresses the Leopard People’s opinion when he says, “Knowledge is the center of all things.” This is why the Obi Library is a respected place and why its Head Librarian, Sugar Cream, is the most revered and powerful Leopard Person in Nigeria. That’s about where Harry Potter’s appreciation of knowledge ends—“Libraries are awesome and can teach us things that help us when we’re getting into wizard trouble!”
Akata Witch values its library, but also takes its love of knowledge further than that. It’s reflected even in the Leopard People’s system of currency. When a Leopard Person learns something new, chittim—that is, the money used by Leopard People—magically materializes in front of them. The more a Leopard Person learns about magic, the more chittim they earn, and the only way to earn chittim is to continue to learn. But it’s not the chittim, or the awesome result of an all-nighter that Leopard People value. It’s the very process of learning itself, and the practical, and sometimes even moral value of the magical discovery that was made. All of the characters are expected to study, too, for reasons further explored below. They can’t be hapless heroes leaning on a Hermione crutch. And the mini-monster textbook mentioned earlier? It doesn’t move and growl because it wants to look cool and wizardly and foreboding. It moves because it wants to be read.
As for an element that I (and many critics) dislike about Harry Potter—One common complaint about the series is that Harry tends to break the rules and benefit from it, or either have the rules bent so they don’t apply to him. First year students aren’t allowed to fly on broomsticks? Pssh! Harry does it and gets a place as the youngest person ever on the quiddich team! Akata Witch doesn’t pull that. When Sunny uses her Leopard abilities in front of a lamb—a huge no-no, just like it is for wizards and magic—she doesn’t get a threatened punishment that is then revoked for Plot Reasons. She gets flogged, and then she loses her highly sought-after chance at becoming Sugar Cream’s mentee. Some of her companions suffer similar punishments for similar foolishness. Of course, while it hurts to see pain befall our heroes, I liked that there were actual consequences for infractions, rather than fortunately-placed plot twists. It adds a realistic sort of tension, in contrast to the tensions present because of the fantasy elements.
There’s also the whole Boy Who Lived-slash-Chosen One thing—a common element in many fantasy novels— where a particular character is, for whatever reason, destined to defeat a particular baddie. I hate Chosen One storylines no matter where they show up because in real life, I’ve only met, like, two people to whom I would confidently entrust the fate of civilization. Even that’s reaching a bit (‘cause, you know, saving all of humanity is a HUGE task for one person). Also, neither of these people were angsty, hormonal, pubescent teens, despite what YA fantasy novels would lead me to expect. (Granted, this is where suspension of disbelief comes in handy when reading YA fantasy.) Expectations of realism aside, there’s also the lack of suspense inherent in the typical Chosen One storyline. We know who’s going to live and defeat the baddie because the story type has already told us. Sure, Harry Potter had the whole and Neville-Longbottom-having-a-similar-backstory-and-therefore-being-a-candidate-to-defeat-Voldemort thing to keep us on our toes-slash-distract us to the end. But come on. Harry Potter’s name is in the title of the series. Of course he’d be the Chosen One. Of course he’d live and beat the bad guy. That’s how Chosen One stories work. (But maybe I’m just spiteful because I was Team Neville.)
Akata Witch doesn’t pull this either. While it’s said that Sunny and her companions’ abilities complement each other in a fortuitous, Chosen One-like way, they are frequently reminded of their absolute mortality: “There will be danger,” says their mentor, Anatov, “Some of you may not live to complete your lessons. It is a risk you take. The world is bigger than you and it will go on, regardless.” And as for that subliminal reader assurance that this rule won’t apply to our protagonists, that surely some mentor or deus ex machina will come to their aid? That hope is shot down by something as innocent as the Leopard People’s favorite sport, about which Sunny asks: “Why didn’t they stop [the match]?” And her mentor replies, “Because life doesn’t work that way. When things get bad, they don’t stop until you stop the badness—or die [italics mine].” Leopard People don’t get rescued, even if they are the protagonists. They take care of themselves, and if they get themselves into bigger messes than they can handle, they’re dead (which makes the act of studying magic a whole lot more appealing). Because the novel doesn’t play the protagonists up as prophesied victors, too, readers fully believe that death is a possibility for Sunny and friends, which makes reading about the danger that they put themselves in all the more suspenseful.
Now, I’ve placed a lot of emphasis on the book’s Harry Potter-like successes, but the novel does possess several great points on its own. For example, though the Leopard People have almost constant access to money (as long as they’re learning), they do not place great value in money, viewing it more as a tool to achieve goals than a goal to be reached in itself. (Granted, this is a theme that has been seen before, but it’s still refreshing to see it approached in a way that isn’t flagrant anti-consumerism). Leopard People also take traits that “lambs”—that is, non-magical people—view as imperfections and view them as strengths. Sunny is albino, Orlu is dyslexic, and other friends Chichi and Sasha were both notorious for being hopeless troublemakers in lamb school, before it was realized that they were actually gifted students bored with the unchallenging world around them (like teens falsely diagnosed with ADHD). All of these traits, regarded as flaws in the lamb world, contribute to their strengths as Leopard People, and it was cool to see characters with “disabilities” benefit from them in a semi-realistic way. (Kudos to Rick Riordan for giving Percy Jackson dyslexia, but to this day I haven’t met a dyslexic teen whose brain can understand the writing of their first language without effort, much less Ancient Greek.)
Of course, the book has flaws as well. The main conflict in the book revolves around the child murders mentioned earlier, and though child murder is awful, and though the crimes become a special concern for Leopard People late in the novel, Okorafor doesn’t spend much story time making us fear the ritual serial murderer Black Hat Otokoto. She’s more interested in showing us Sunny’s entry into the Leopard People world—which, in its defense, is hugely interesting—but I do wish that more time had been spent on the larger threat hanging over the characters’ heads. Ultimately, though, that flaw is overshadowed by the novel’s wonderfully imaginative world-building, and it’s not going to stop Akata Witch from being one of my favorite YA novels of the past several years.
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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.
The Dragons of Jupiter: First Reader Review! Five Stars!
The first reader review for The Dragons of Jupiter is in, and it is GLOWING!
Review by: Dan Pederson
Great plot, great characters, great world, and one heck of an awesome ending. That’s pretty much how I would describe The Dragons of Jupiter if someone asked me about the novel. The story centers around two brothers Ryu and Kaneda, their personal war, as well as the ongoing interplanetary conflict that is raging around them. The author does an excellent job of introducing the characters as well as the universe they exist in. The characters are done extremely well and it is interesting as a reader to become aware that you are favoring one side of the conflict versus the other. Some of the characters follow stereotypical sci-fi archetypes but that is one of the charming things about this book. The plot ranges from huge battles to small scale one-on-one fights and it handles each equally well. I won’t include any spoilers but will note that I thoroughly enjoyed the ending.
The review was posted on Smashwords and can be seen here.
Well, what can I say? Wow! Just … wow! That is one satisfied customer! Thank you, Dan Pederson, for your very enthusiastic praise!
And this is how I feel right now:
So, does this sound like a novel you’d enjoy? Do you like your novels action-packed? Do you crave interesting characters? Do you enjoy a kickass ending?
Why not give The Dragons of Jupiter a try?
Click here to learn more.
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The Friday Society by Adrienne Kress – Book Review
Caution: Contains one spoiler.
Anyone who has ever spoken to me at length about steampunk will know this: While I do love steampunk, I’m a bigger fan of the idea of steampunk than I am of most steampunk books. My main complaint against them is that they tend to treat the pseudo-Victorian aesthetic as a decoration, rather than an integral part of the world of the story. Occasionally, though, I happen upon a steampunk novel that takes that decoration and rocks it.
The Friday Society by Adrienne Kress rocks hard in all the ways that steampunk should.
In the novel, Cora is assistant to a mad scientist, with all the science brains and cool tech knowledge implied; Nellie is assistant to a magician, armed with sparkly dresses, sneak tactics galore, and a parrot sidekick; and Michiko is a Japanese assistant to an English fight instructor, who knows more about katana combat than her present charlatanic master. When heads start rolling in the London streets—the first right at their feet, in fact—they take it upon themselves to solve the mystery with sassy, street-smart girl power and more than a little technological mayhem.
These are combinations that could not exist outside a steampunk novel and still make sense.
At its heart, The Friday Society reads like Kress said, “OK—I’m going to take everything that is awesome about steampunk, trash the rest, put it in a blender with some glitter and Japanese swordplay and see what happens.” Which is why there is almost no affected fake-Victorian language in this thing, and why the novel foregoes the tedious details of Victorian manners and society to toss an explosion at readers in the first sentence. There are also magical gravity-defying minerals and a super fancy gun that can be worn like armor until an electromagnetic pulse calls its pieces into weapon form.
The protagonists, too, are sneakily developed, looking like stereotypes on the surface—the tomboy, the girly girl, the samurai—but revealing some clever variations on their types as the novel progresses. Michiko, for example, is the stoic, silent, samurai sort one would expect—but only because she doesn’t know enough English to use the language and so stays quiet to avoid making herself look foolish. Cora and Nellie take it upon themselves to teach her the language, and ultimately, it is these three characters and their interactions that make the novel worth the read. Stylistically, it aspires to read like a steampunk cousin of sassy fantasies like The Princess Bride or Stardust, a feat largely accomplished through the girls’ banter. Though they never actually reach Princess Bride levels of wit—though, really, what other than The Princess Bride itself can do that?— its sense of humor was close enough and uncommon enough in steampunk novels that it kept me reading.
However, even though the strengths outweighed them for me, the book does have some weaknesses worth mentioning. There’s an attempted romantic storyline that falls absolutely flat—but this is a book about girls kicking butt, so that’s ok. The story also involves a secondary murder mystery that I found completely throwaway once it was solved, and once readers find out the eventual bad guy’s motivation, it is frustratingly feminist (that is, feminist in a negative way). BTW THIS IS THE SPOILER PART. WATCH OUT. This seems odd to say about a book that is unabashedly about girl power, but when the antagonist’s reason for murdering everyone (and then some) comes down to “THE MEN DIDN’T THINK MY IDEAS WERE GOOD BECAUSE I WAS A GIRL SO I’LL SHOW THEM >( ” it’s a bit anticlimactic, and not entirely believable. (A younger me was a tomboyish girl who wanted to excel at boy things like science and blowing things up, but I was never motivated to do such things because people told me I was too girly to succeed at them. I simply wanted to do them because I wanted to do them.) Finally, the novel makes a noble stab at having a diverse cast—Michiko is trained by a local Japanese expatriate, and Nellie works for an exotic Oriental magician—but most of the multicultural characters in the novel ultimately fall into convenient stereotype. Nellie’s magician, though interesting, exists only to be exotic and mysterious, and Michiko’s mentor reads like he popped out of The Karate Kid.
Taken as a whole, though, The Friday Society ranks among the best steampunk novels I’ve encountered in the past year. It’s not flawless, but it’s still the most entertaining piece of steampunk quirk that I’ve read since Phil and Kaja Foglio’s classic Girl Genius.
***
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.
BZRK by Michael Grant – Book Review
Conjoined twins Charles and Benjamin Armstrong have a vision of a utopian future—a future in which war, hunger, even minor conflict is nonexistent. They wish to see human society perfected. Which sounds pretty sweet, except that they hope to achieve it by sending brain-manipulating nanobots into the minds of the most powerful leaders on the planet, and then rewiring their brains to serve their cause. Which involves doing the same to the rest of the world. BZRK is not about to let that happen. Armed with sets of biots—microscopic bug-like creatures that can alter brains as well as the nanobots—this guerilla organization is ready to fight for the free will of the human race.
I like to picture Michael Grant’s BZRK as the summer action movie of YA books. It’s noisy and fast-paced with colorful characters and just a tiny hint of deeper substance, asking questions like “Is world peace worth the cost of free will?” A tiny, tiny hint. After all, The Matrix asked deep questions like “What is reality?” but no one watches The Matrix solely to have their intellect teased. BZRK is the same kind of entertainment.
That said, BZRK would make a ridiculously fun action movie (and, in fact, has already been optioned). Look at the very premise: The battle for humanity’s freedom is being fought, secretly, INSIDE PEOPLE’S BRAINS by MICROSCOPIC GENETICALLY ENGINEERED BUGS against ARMIES OF NANOBOTS and the uniquely skilled people who control them LIKE THEY’RE PLAYING A VIDEO GAME. On top of that, the leader of the bad guy camp is a set of twins conjoined at the face, who run a massive technology corporation disguised as a line of gift shops. The whole cast of “twitchers”—that is, the people who control the biots and nanobots—is made of characters with definite action-movie eccentricities. One, for example, is physically unable to feel pleasure due to the makeup of his brain. Another has a QR code tattooed in a snarky place that leads to a snarky video. Another rewired the brain of a hot girl so she’d be his girlfriend. Oh, there’s a normal guy, among them, too, for readers to relate to, but he is also really attractive and therefore separate from us, in his own fantastic action movie world.
Though the technology of the story is cool (and terrifying—Never again, after reading this, will you have a headache and not think “OMG THERE MIGHT BE BIOTS BATTLING IN MY BRAIN RIGHT NOW”), the characters are a mixed bag of epicness and mediocrity. What the novel has in abundant character distinctness, it absolutely lacks in character development. When I tried to recall any major transformations that happened in this book, the only one I could come up with was this: One character gets her legs blown off. Which does not a dynamic character make, at least in terms of characterization. (The scene itself is certainly a dynamic one, what with pieces of characters flying everywhere.) An attempt at development is made between Noah and Sadie, two protagonists new to BZRK who have been paired together, had biots grown from their DNA, and told to keep each other’s biots alive—to help out when the other’s brain is under attack. Their inevitable physical closeness—they’re crawling all over each other’s brain meat, after all—suggests to both that physical closeness of a more intimate, hormonal, and emotional sort is bound to occur, and both are conflicted about this idea. They’re hesitant about romance, but at the same time, have already been placed close by technological necessity. The conflict here was interesting to read about, but in this novel, it never develops beyond mere uneasiness. BZRK is going to be a series, so I imagine that their relationship will be better developed over the course of the larger story (which is what I anticipate of the character development in general). However, it was disappointing that this interaction was no better developed than any of the other character interactions. This will be a difficult hurdle for some readers to jump; if you’re looking for characters to relate to and care for, you’re probably going to find it hard to care about this book. But you’re also probably not the audience this book is aiming for, either.
Mediocre characterization aside, one of my favorite elements of the book was the incredible diversity of its cast. Nearly every globally significant culture is represented amongst the characters, good and bad. Granted, at the beginning of the novel, character introductions came so quickly and ferociously that the diversity seemed almost pandering, especially when the book reaches the American character who looks Chinese but has a Russian name. And who, you find out later, is also a gay model. So maybe it is pandering. But in a book like this, a diverse cast makes logical sense. When the threat being combated is a global one, it’s only natural that the team assembled to fight it would consist of something other than a bunch of white guys and one random other race thrown in for flavor. So kudos to Michael Grant for acknowledging that.
Ultimately, there’s little more to BZRK than cool technological action and ridiculous characters, which is fine by me. I wasn’t expecting intellectual stimulation from a book that sells itself on brain bugs. My only genuine complaint about the book, then, relates to its ending. It’s not a bad ending. In fact, it definitely satisfies on the action level. But, like many series books these days, it doesn’t conclude the story so much as suggest that there’s more to come. This makes sense for a series book, but I do miss the days when novels—even series novels—were complete self-contained units. I can’t complain too much, though, because when BZRK Reloaded arrives at the library, I’ll be the first to check it out.
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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.
Mortal Engines by Philip Reeve – Book Review
The people of the future no longer live on the ground. In the time between our period, theirs, and the pivotal Sixty Minute War, they’ve moved onto enormous mobile cities known as Traction Cities, which carry them around the world to escape the geological dangers created by the Sixty Minute War…and also away from other cities. For the Traction Cities abide by the code of Municipal Darwinism, in which the bigger, stronger cities keep themselves running by devouring the smaller cities and their resources. As one character says, it’s a “town-eat-town” world.
In the midst of this municipal Survival of the Fittest are our protagonists, Tom Natsworthy, Katherine Valentine, and Hester Shaw. Tom is a third-class apprentice in the Guild of Historians, located on the impressive Traction City of London. Despite the difficulties of his work, he loves London and cheers it on when it chases and captures the smaller city of Salthook. In the course of the following city-wide celebration, he encounters Thaddeus Valentine, the dashing head of the Guild of Historians and a hero among Londoners, Tom included. More importantly, though, he encounters Valentine’s daughter, Katherine, with whom he is immediately smitten. He doesn’t have much time to be smitten, though, for in the flurry of activity, an assassin approaches Valentine with a knife, intending to do exactly what assassins do with knives. However, Tom is not about to let that happen. He rescues Valentine, in the process being knocked off of the London Traction City, and afterward finds that the assassin is actually Hester Shaw, a girl with a hideous scar and a story to tell—one that will change Tom’s impression of his beloved Traction City forever.
There is more plot, but all of it is a spoiler.
Mortal Engines by Philip Reeve is the first in The Mortal Engines Quartet/The Hungry City Chronicles/The Predator Cities series (This is another of those series that gets a new identity every time it’s rereleased), and is among the books that I consider the most perfect examples of steampunk. It has action, adventure, a unique and well-realized setting, political intrigue, character twists and turns galore, and on top of that, a whole city inhabited by airship pilots and all the epicness that ensues when a bunch of airship pilots find something to do battle over (among other awesomeness. There are Traction City pirates, too. And a pet wolf named Dog. And also a thing called MEDUSA which, avoiding spoilers, is terrifying for the characters involved with it, but thrilling to readers who want some exciting steampunk action).
The whole concept of Municipal Darwinism is what gives this novel its strong base. While the idea of a moving city is not original to Mortal Engines, the idea of a city chasing and eating another city is, and brings an interesting level of conflict to the world of the novel. This was one of those settings where, as with many sci-fi settings, my first reaction was “Ooo, I’d totally love to live on a Traction City and travel all over the world and chase other towns!” And then I realized that I live in Spartanburg, which as cities go is not that big, and as Traction Cities go means that it would totally be eaten by one of its many larger surrounding before it could even finish chasing the little towns around it. People who live in Spartanburg are even called Spartanburgers. We sound like food. We’d be doomed from the start. And we’d be doomed while on the run from the earth itself, since one of the results of the pseudo-nuclear Sixty Minute War was unpredictable geological upheaval. You want real stress? Try running from the ground you’re running on.
Of course, to the characters in the novel, all these novelties are old hat. They’re so used to Traction Cities that the whole idea of a static city seems weird and barbaric to them, as does the Anti-Traction League, a group of protected nations determined to maintain their static cities, and who occasionally perpetrate alleged terrorist attacks on Traction Cities…in protest of the activities which the Anti-Traction League finds barbaric. This contributes to what I found to be one of the most satisfying elements of the book. While it has adventure and explosions and everything else that I find entertaining in a novel, it also presents some interesting moral and ethical questions, and explores all sides of every side presented in the novel. Though the story in the novel has a clear set of antagonists, the world of the novel is composed of several different shades of moral gray, many of which change shades over the course of the narrative. Allegiances and animosities that the readers have at the beginning are changed in nearly every chapter when readers happen upon haunting new information. Questions about the world itself arise—how ethical is it, exactly, for a city to eat another city, even when the limited availability of natural resources necessitates it? What are the moral implications of resurrecting the dead as memory-less half-machines (another technology that plays a significant role in the plot)?
This is a novel that makes the reader question everything it presents as awesome in the first few chapters, and for that, I love it. It’s simultaneously a fun adventure novel and a thinking person’s novel. Because of that, I cannot wait to read the remaining three books in The Mortal Engines Quartet(/The Hungry City Chronicles/The Predator Cities).
Top image found here: http://fav.me/d1r6f62
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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.
Beasts of Burden, Volume 1 by Evan Dorkin and Jill Thompson – Book Review
In Animal Rites, the first volume of graphic novel series Beasts of Burden, Pugsley, Jack, Ace, Whitey, Rex, and the Orphan are 5 dogs and a cat living fairly normal lives…until they encounter a ghost in Jack’s doghouse, a coven of witches, a werewolf, and several other supernatural oddities. Eventually, they combat so many paranormal dangers that they are invited to become apprentices of the Wise Dog Society, a group of dogs (and now one cat) devoted to defending their territory from paranormal threats.
This description might lead one to think that the story illustrated in the pages of this book is a fun little happy-go-lucky read. I mean, it’s got talking animals in it, right?
True, Beasts of Burden is a talking animal story. But it is not a talking animal story that you want to show your little siblings. Not unless you want them to grow up traumatized, anyway. In which case, go for it. You will succeed dramatically.
This series is billed as horror mystery. It fits that genre quite nicely, and with more originality and skill than many entries in the genre. One would expect a story like the one in the description—the adventures of a bunch of canine paranormal investigators—to be illustrated in a rather fun, cartoony style, and possibly to show up as a Nickelodeon series sometime in the near future. Instead of that rather trite approach, readers are instead given lavish watercolor illustrations to gaze at, not of anthropomorphic, but realistically-rendered creatures, with some liberties taken to allow for facial expression. The art in this book is marvelously expressive, and gorgeous to skim.
Whether it remains so upon a closer look is entirely up to the individual reader, as the art of this book puts the “gore” in “gorgeous.” If you are the sort of animal lover who cries when you see cute puppies in sad situations, you may as well steer clear, because this book will leave you traumatized, too. And if you are a curious animal lover, but iffy about the animal horror content, let me present you with this image from the third story: a pack of zombie dogs getting run over by a truck in vivid, splattery detail, then being left in the road because the drivers don’t want to handle the hassle of cleanup and owner contact. If that makes you uncomfortable, you might as well stay away, too, because the horror only gets worse from there. And for horror readers, this is a treat.
Before you think me an absolutely heartless person for saying so, let me say that I’m the sort of animal lover who can’t go to a pet shop without wanting to adopt all the cats, and then coming up with a list of sad things that might happen to those cats should I not adopt them, and then leaving the pet shop sad because I already have enough cats and they don’t want any friends anyway. So I am a fan of animals. However, I am also a fan of well-done horror, and this book is definitely that. Any artist can illustrate lots of blood and gore and call it horror, but only a skilled artist can make the reader care about the characters that it’s happening to, which is the key to the success of this volume. This book is great horror not because it’s disgusting (which it is) but because it has an emotionally wrenching effect on the reader, largely fueled by the art and its careful juxtaposition of the mundane with the horrible, as well as its well-designed, emotionally sensitive panel progressions. This level of artistry is makes the work one worth appreciating, perhaps even admiring.
This isn’t to say that being able to appreciate the work renders it an easy read. There were moments—many, many moments—when I cringed, or had to take a break from reading, or said to myself, “OMG. Did that really happen on that page? I have to look again. Yep. It totally did. It’s a book about talking animals, and that totally happened. This makes Watership Down look like Peter Rabbit.” (By the way, I have not actually read the Watership Down novel. I have seen the animated film, which is significantly less graphic than this comic, but still contains rabbits killing each other and doing otherwise disturbing things that would have messed me up as a child viewer, but thoroughly entertained me as a giddily morbid high schooler.)
Animal Rites, then, is a graphic novel best appreciated by lovers of well-executed horror, and by readers who can stomach animal tragedy. Everyone else will probably find it too sad or gross to read. Due to the genuinely graphic nature of this graphic novel, I don’t recommend it for younger teens, even precocious ones. Older teens and above who are looking for an intelligent and affecting horror experience, though, will find a rewarding read in this.
***
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Foundling by D. M. Cornish – Book Review
Rossamund Bookchild is a foundling boy with a girl’s name. This name was given to him by the paper pinned to his blanket when he was left on the front stoop of Madam Opera’s Estimable Marine Society for Foundling Boys and Girls, and it has tormented him ever since. As the object of frequent jibes and bullying fists, he eagerly looks forward to the day when he can leave the foundlingery and enter the navy, and thus a life full of adventure on the high seas. His dreams are dashed, though, when he is chosen to be a simple lamplighter. The hopelessly boring life that he anticipates, though, ends up being anything but (at least for the moment), as he is abducted, rescued, and then forced into service by one of the most famous monster hunters on the Half-Continent.
Foundling is the first in the interchangeably titled Monster Blood Tattoo/The Foundling’s Tale trilogy by Australian author D. M. Cornish. (This trilogy was titled Monster Blood Tattoo for its first American release but didn’t do very well, which prompted the publishers to change the name to the more benign and significantly less interesting The Foundling’s Tale.) Because of the depth the author has built into its world, the trilogy has been compared to J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, a classic renowned (and notorious) for the level of detail put into the cultures that populate the setting. This is a deceptive comparison at first, as there is nothing remotely epic about the storyline, nor any high-stakes goal that has to be reached (nothing on the level of Destroy-This-Ring-or-The-World-Will-End!, anyway). It’s just a kid running into trouble as he travels to a distant city. The deeper into the story one reads, however, the more sense these comparisons begin to make.
Cornish is a detailed creator; his dark, pre-industrial, monster-ridden world of the Half-Continent is among the better-realized in modern YA fantasy. The majority of his detail, though, is devoted to the culture of his monster-hunters and the alchemy-like magic surrounding them. These monster-hunters are not born magicians but people who, for example, employ a violent form of chemistry to dispatch monster threats or even have extra organs sewn inside their bodies to attain near-magical powers. Half the fun of reading this novel is simply relishing in its morbid world-building.
The novel’s main strength, however, ends up causing some of weak points, too. Early on, I felt so overwhelmed by the intricacy of novel’s world that I had to stop reading for a while, just to get it all organized in my head, and even after I picked it back up, there were multiple times when I thought, “GRRRRGH! When is something going to HAPPEN?” So much energy is spent introducing the reader to the mechanics of the world that its plot and pacing suffer significantly, at least at the beginning. Once I hit the middle of the book, I read voraciously to the end and was disappointed to discover that the last hundred pages of my book were actually not story, but appendices about the world of the novel (another similarity shared with Tolkien, who was a huge fan of super-detailed appendices).
All this said, this is not a novel for casual fantasy readers. This is a novel for readers who have read the popular fantasy novels and are ready to graduate to the deeper cuts. This is a novel for the readers who are okay with a little bit of slowness because the setting in which the slowness happens is just that awesome.
Romeo and Juliet: The War by Stan Lee, etc. – Graphic Novel Review
Comic adaptations of Shakespeare are hardly new, but in my experience, rarely are they well-done enough to be appreciated outside of a “Here, read this comic because you’re having trouble with the Shakespearean language in the play” context. Of the several that I’ve attempted, only a few have been books that I’ve reread for their entertainment value. Most of the others I haven’t been able to finish, and all of those left me with exasperated groans in my throat, just waiting to be unleashed when I came upon the next Shakespeare comic.
In fact, that is exactly what happened when I came upon this comic. When I first saw a thumbnail of Romeo and Juliet: The War, my reaction was *EXAGGERATED SIGH-GRUMBLE*, “Does the world really need another futuristic Romeo and Juliet ripoff?” The fact that it was Romeo and Juliet made it worse. Generally I hate stories that feature protagonists being both in love and stupid at the same time, which is what Romeo and Juliet is, at its heart. Oh, the original has all that iambic pentametered loveliness, too, but I can get that in every other Shakespearean work, many of which are far more interesting than this one.
Key to my exasperation with this book was the fact that I was looking at a thumbnail that was the size of, well, a thumbnail.
Then, one day, I came upon the actual cover in person, which sent me into fits of fangirlish glee:
This version of Shakespeare’s classic sets the familiar story in the far future, making both families consist of cybernetically- or genetically- enhanced supersoldiers, and then having them duke it out in a wondrous spread of futuristic glowing lights and shiny metal that makes the book look like a printed cousin of the Mass Effect games (which is not a bad thing because even the loading screens are fun to look at in Mass Effect games.)
Romeo and Juliet: The War is not simply a slapdash adaptation of a classic made for SparkNotes purposes, either. (Not to hate on SparkNotes, by the way. The SparkNotes graphic novel version of Hamlet is one of my favorite Shakespeare-inspired comics.) It’s an impressively crafted work, and despite all the crazy technological changes, the basic story is still intact. I wouldn’t recommend reading in lieu of the original if you’re reading it for class, as you’ll end up answering questions like “Why were the Montagues and Capulets enemies?” with “Because they were such awesomely superpowered soldiers that they defeated everyone else in the world, leaving only themselves to fight!” (which, FYI, is not the Shakespearean reason). However, as a complement to the original text, it’s pretty good. Some changes are made to certain minor points in the plot, but—dare I say it?—these changes actually improve upon Shakespeare’s story, or at the very least make it more dramatic reading.
Basic accuracy is the least of this book’s good points, though. All of the other good points rest in its art. The art in this comic is not merely pleasant to look at. Everything about it is expertly accomplished, from the dynamic panel layout, to the characterful color design, to the wondrous and colossal scale of it all. The book makes frequent use of detailed full-page and multi-page spreads, and more than once I found myself stopping in the middle of reading simply to gawp at what was on the page before me. This is a graphic novel that comes very close to reaching the height of Capital A Art.
The only truly disappointing part of the book, for me, was the lack of an author or artist’s note in the back, as I was genuinely curious to know what happened to make this unexpected bit of awesomeness come about. The only extras included are some pieces of concept art, which are cool, but not as interesting as a look into the writer’s and artist’s minds would have been. I also had a problem with Romeo’s hair, which being the shaggy mop that seems to appear on every stylish teen boy’s head these days is going to look dated as soon as we’re out of the 2010s. But that’s just me being picky because there’s nothing else to complain about.
In Death Ground by David Weber and Steve White – Book Review
IN SHORT: A race of genocidal alien bugs has targeted humanity, and they’re coming after us with a lot of ships. I mean, A LOT OF SHIPS.
WHAT IT IS: Expect lots of extremely detailed and well-written combat. Stuff blows up in this book. LOTS of stuff. The military tech of In Death Ground is coherent, detailed, and well thought out. There’s a lot to take in, but I never felt overwhelmed. Even with all the SBMs, AFHAWKs, primaries, heterodyne lasers, force beams, plasma cannons, sprint-mode missiles, and a ton of different ship classes, the novel delivers it at a controlled pace, doling out a few new pieces of tech in each battle. This keeps the combat fresh and exciting.
WHAT IT IS NOT: The characters, while distinct and entertaining, are not the real stars here, and it shows. The viewpoint bounces around quite a bit. As soon as I got comfortable with one group of characters, I had to learn a whole new cast. These viewpoint shifts paint a great picture of a war on multiple fronts, but at the cost of character development.
WHAT I THOUGHT: In Death Ground is fun. The action is fast paced and exciting. Every battle has some sort of interesting twist to it. It’s just a great page turner. Without a doubt, I enjoyed following humanity’s struggle against this unstoppable, genocidal alien juggernaut.
The technical details give it a layer of depth and consistency that just feels right. Humans have the technology advantage. The bugs have massive numbers and just don’t care about casualties. The tactics each side employs are well thought out and consistent within the setting … for the most part. Sometimes the bug “we don’t care how many of us die” mentality can come across as a little stupid.
On a thematic level, this is not a complicated book. The military characters are very heroic. The politicians are complete scum. And the bugs are the bad guys. Period. No question about it. I mean, they even eat human babies, for goodness sake. There is no ambiguity here.
The novel does show a little of the bug perspective, but only in a military tactical sense. At no point does the reader get any insight into why the bugs invaded or who they really are. They are faceless, remorseless killers that serve as foils for the heroic humans. That’s it.
But that’s okay. This is an action novel. I wanted spaceships to blow up in exciting ways, and I got it. If that’s what you’re after, then In Death Ground will not disappoint.
VERDICT: Recommended.