The world changed when dragons rose from their slumber beneath the earth, but dragons were not the only change to come.
They warned of demons—monsters that would emerge from the very pit of hell to wreak havoc on our world. The dragons had come to select riders who, with the dragons, would provide reinforcements against the coming carnage. But if it takes dragons to defeat those monsters, what hope does humanity have?
Not much, and soon, even with the dragons’ aid, civilization crumbles in the ashes of its former self, burned more with every Killing Moon.
Now only the city of New Madrid remains. It may soon face its own demise from underneath—but not if French Heavener has anything to say about it. With dragon rider Saavin, he’ll travel to the very cave where the demons hide. With her dragon Banshee and the last courageous band of humans, dragons, and riders, they’ll save New Madrid.
Or die trying.
I met author Terry Maggert at LibertyCon several years ago, snagged by the tagline for his then-latest book: “Come for the waffles. Stay for the magic.” Unfortunately, despite combining two of my favorite things in the world, Halfway Dead had not yet released, so instead I opted to try the next best thing, which was “the apocalypse but with dragons,” a.k.a. Banshee.
The reason why this is review is so late is 1) life, which required me to 2) read it twice, which I needed to do anyway because my first reaction was *excited pterodactyl noises.* This is the kind of reaction every author hopes to elicit, but unfortunately it does not make for an articulate review.
My now-articulate response: Banshee is a must-read for fans of dragons, apocalyptic fiction, vividly realized worlds, and competent, capable characters.
Of all the characters, Saavin is the most nondescript, but this is largely because she’s so defined by her role as a dragon rider who gets stuff done—because in this world, if you don’t get stuff done, you die, even if you have a dragon on your side. The more clearly-realized French is equally as competent as she is, though in a different way: A product of Appalachia, French knows how to survive in coarse conditions, especially in terms of gathering and organizing resources, but he’s far from the stereotypical hillbilly one might expect. He carries the novel and keeps most of the cast alive through sheer planning alone, and it was refreshing to read about a “hillbilly” who was not only more than a caricature, but an admirable leader. I’m not sure that I’d follow him into the hell cave, but I’d definitely follow him elsewhere.
Outside of Saavin and French, the cast is huge, but just as well characterized. None of the characters are the bombastic badasses one might expect of a novel like this, but many are badass in realistic ways, from the Paddy-Macs, a family of sharp-shooters, to Harriet Fleming, a New Madrid leader who knows she’s dying from terminal illness but still does her job, despite both internal and external odds. Of course, humans wouldn’t be human without some politics, which is where Colvin Watley and his lackeys come in. He’s a charismatic, folksy type well suited to the personality of his surroundings; he’s also a manipulative, useless a-hole who wants power and influence in New Madrid but doesn’t have the skills to merit it. Still, that hasn’t stopped him from gaining some traction against French, and the conflict there is nearly as intense as the conflict against the demons—perhaps more so, since a Watley victory implies the inevitable loss of the last human outpost, all because of local politics. The balance of apocalyptic conflicts and relatable conflicts are half of what make this novel work so well.
The other half is the world. While I love dragons in all situations, I especially like when authors place them in modern settings because there’s no way for a dragon to make a small impact. A creature as huge and epic as a dragon irrevocably changes the society around it, and it’s always fun to see how authors choose to express those changes. (Well, fun for the reader. In Banshee’s case, humans face so much hellacious* crap that, well, the apocalypse happens. But in their defense, the dragons were trying to stop that.)
That said, Banshee is primarily a world-building novel. The circumstances and history of the setting are as much a part of the novel as the characters attempting to survive it, and though the characters are interesting and the plot moves at a steady pace, it’s frequently interrupted by records from the Bulwark Archival Materials, which provide a look at what’s going in the world outside (or before) the main characters’. On my first read-through, I found these a little jarring, as they slow the momentum of the plot and sometimes don’t contribute to the narrative immediately surrounding them. However, on my second read, I actually enjoyed them quite a lot. They provide flesh to a world that would have been a mere skeleton had the novel dedicated itself to a straightforward storyline, and though not all are strictly necessary to the plot, they season it nicely, providing glimpses of the resources derived from the demons, the origins and personalities of the other dragons, etc.
The cast of dragons is pretty huge, too, and I regret not being able to spend more time with them, especially Banshee. Despite his name being the title of the book, his significance never seems to be greater than that of the other main characters, and I spent the novel hoping for that special detail or scene that would make him stand out above the rest. It doesn’t happen, but then, all the characters are pretty epic anyway, so it’s not much of a loss.
My only other gripe has to do with the minor character Orontes, who pops up to catalyze the story, disappears to the background for most of the rest, and then pops up at the end again for an unexpected twist that I couldn’t justify even after my second reading. However, it is a twist that demands a sequel, to which I say PLZ TERRY MAGGERT I NEED MORE DRAGONS.
In the meantime, now I can start on Halfway Dead.
*Note: Though there are frequent references to hell and demons, the demons are called so less for religious reasons, more because they come from underground and look like the illegitimate love children of Satan and every animal that wants to kill you. It’s about as religious as Doom.
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Dragons
The Story of Owen – Book Review
In an alternate version of the present day, the world has a dragon problem. Dragons are drawn to the carbon emitted by burning fuel, which means that wherever there’s a fire, a car, or any sort of industry, a dragon will come looking to feast. Fortunately, for as long as there have been dragons, there has been a proud tradition of dragon slayers.
These days, most dragon slayers work in cities, contracted by governments and corporations to protect the considerable interests in these carbon-heavy environments. This is awesome for people who live in cities (least of all because it results in cool, if ill-advised, iPhone videos. And, you know, safety from dragons). People in the country don’t have it so easy.
This is why it’s “like freaking Mardi Gras” when injury brings Lottie Thorskard to her rural hometown of Trondheim. She’s the most famous dragon slayer of her day, and brings with her a fellow dragon-slayer brother and her sixteen-year-old nephew, Owen. Wimpy and bad at algebra and English, Owen is like many teenage boys, except for one big difference. When he’s not being tutored, he’s training to fight the dragons of rural Canada, and his tutor-turned-bard, Siobhan McQuaid, is ready to sing him into legend.
E. K. Johnston’s The Story of Owen: Dragon Slayer of Trondheim has Starred Reviews galore and won a Morris Award this year, so it has a lot going for it. However, despite its impressive pedigree, my reactions to it were mixed. Ultimately, I liked the idea of the novel more than I liked its execution. When it was at its best, though, I enjoyed it quite a lot.
Contrary to its title, The Story of Owen is less the story of Owen, more the-story-of-a-quirky-speculative-version-of-a-dragon-ravaged-world-but-mostly-rural-Canada. It’s obvious that Johnston had a lot of fun working dragons into the history of our world, as every other chapter takes a break from the story to pour new tidbits upon the reader. Take this excerpt, outlining one of the story’s conflicts, as an example:
Most postmodernists blame the decline of the dracono-bardic tradition on the sudden and soaring popularity of the Beatles. The Lads from Liverpool were exactly that: four guys with accents who sang about love and truth, who never once mentioned a dragon slayer. The world split around them. There were many who loved the simplicity of the music, the harmonies and the earnest quality of the lyrics. And there were many who were afraid of the example they were setting.
For the first time since Shakespeare…the English-speaking world was confronted by a cultural phenomenon that was insanely popular and entirely bereft of danger. An entire generation of young people…threw themselves at the Beatles, much to the concern of their elders, who worried about the effect listening to the Beatles’ music might incur.
Note all the ellipses. Then imagine another sentence or two in their places. This to say, for patient readers who enjoy intensely detailed world-building, The Story of Owen is a delightful read. All this world-building, though, presents a big hurdle to less patient readers; Johnston often builds her world at the expense of everything else in the story. Truly, the world is more of a character than the actual characters, and readers have to take in a lot of fictional history before they can begin to process the significance of what the characters are up to.
And for me, though the characters were interesting, they weren’t nearly as interesting as the world in which they live. For people who live in a world consumed by dragons, they’re all astonishingly normal. Here’s where my opinions become extremely mixed. On the one hand, it was cool to read that normalcy. In this world, dragons are just another problem occurring in nature, like tornadoes or bears wandering into the neighborhood. People have plans for how to handle them. This chillness in the face of scaly, fiery death is amusing at first; the downside is that it becomes a little boring to read about after a while. Also, whatever tension is created when Owen actually fights a dragon is often counteracted by the way Siobhan tells the stories, beginning by narrating the version that she told the media (which is heroic), and then telling readers what actually happened (which, while still heroic, is less climactic). The climax itself, too, runs so smoothly and with such little threat to the lives of the defended population that there’s not much tension even there. The characters are simply too competent! (However, this does render a tragic twist at the end that much more unexpected.)
All this said, though I was comparatively indifferent to the characters, and though I found the pacing a bit janky, the world was interesting enough that I plowed to the end of the novel on the momentum of it alone. Most of the other things that I enjoyed about the novel are subtler. You wouldn’t know it from the cover, but Owen is biracial—Venezuelan-Canadian—and a significant lesbian relationship within his family is classily handled. Also, Siobhan is intensely thoughtful about music in the way that only an enthusiastic teenager can be; though it reads awkwardly at times—as when she describes her emotions in terms of the instruments that would play them—it’s not unrealistic for a creative teenage narrator.
It also makes her a much more convincing bard. Character-wise, the novel is the Story of Siobhan learning to become a bard even more than it is the Story of Owen learning to slay dragons! The novel is even (loosely) structured in a way that harkens back to the oral traditions that conveyed Beowulf and monster-fighting epics like it, which was a neat touch, even if we never actually see any of Siobhan’s compositions.
The Story of Owen, then, is an ambitious novel. Sometimes it falters under the weight of its own ambitions. Still, overall it’s a noble and amusing effort. It’s not for everyone, but readers who have the patience to give it a chance will find it rewarding.
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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.