The Knight and the Moth (Rachel Gillig)

The Knight and the Moth

The Stonewater Kingdom series, Book 1
Rachel Gillig
Orbit
Fiction, YA Fantasy/Romance
*** (Okay)

DESCRIPTION:

The young woman known as Six remembers nothing before she first drowned in the sacred spring of Aisling cathedral as a sickly foundling child. Now, as one of the sacred diviners, she and her five holy sisters dream prophetic visions of the Omens and their sacred stone objects for the paying faithful of Stonewater Kingdom, a small realm of five hamlets surrounded by hostile inhuman sprites. Only the Omens hold the monsters at bay and give the people hope, and only the diviners, drowning in the spring, can glimpse their will.
Or so Six always believed.
As they near their tenth year of service, the girls look forward to the freedom to come; each diviner only serves a decade before being released. They have only had passing glimpsese of the greater kingdom, but dream of great adventures and grand lives... until, one by one, they begin to disappear in the night. At last, only Six remains - and she cannot believe the abbess when the woman insists that the others just "ran away" without telling her. She flees, finding her way to the only ally she might have: Roderick "Rory" Myndacious, one of the young new king's most trusted guardsmen, who made quite an impression when he visited the cathedral with King Benjamin as part of the coronation rituals. Rory is brash, rude, and blasphemous - the perfect companion, in other words, when her enemies are the gods themselves.

REVIEW:

I've heard nothing but praise for Gillig and her books, and heard some intriguing things about this one, so I figured I'd give it a try. The opening pulled me in almost immediately, as a talking gargoyle lectures a bug caught in a spider web about morality in lieu of helping it free, and the whole concept of repeatedly drowning in a sacred spring to receive prophetic visions. This was a world I wanted to know more about, and the characters promised to be ones I'd enjoy exploring that world with. (The edition I got was also admittedly quite petty, a paperback with decorative page edges.) Unfortunately, as the tale unraveled, that promise frayed to bare threads, until the only reason I was turning pages was to get the thing over with.
The early parts at Aisling, the cathedral built upon the sacred spring where once the Omens came to unite the infighting humans against the many strange and deadly sprite creatures stalking the land that would become Stonewater Kingdom, were rather interesting. Six and her companions are, naturally, sheltered, convinced that their sacrifices are worthwhile and that they will be rewarded for their service, but they are not so strictly naïve (in some ways, at least) as to be insufferable; a few have been known to sneak out to the local fair now and again, and they aren't forbidden to "lie in the grass" with visitors so long as they're discreet. Six herself strives to be the perfect dreamer, the teacher's pet of the bunch, yet still feels very close to her sister diviners, as they spend their evenings concocting grandiose dreams of their adventures once they're free of the robes and the eye-covering shrouds they must wear day and night as part of their service. The meeting with Rory and young King Benjamin foreshadows troubling times ahead, and Six begins to consider questions and ideas she'd previously dismissed. There's a nice sense of growing horror as, one by one, her fellow diviners begin to disappear... and those remaining see a darker, colder side to their mother figure priestess, as she dismisses Six's concerns and withdraws even the minimal affection and love she ever showed them, until there's no choice but to flee - taking along the one talking gargoyle, which has several eccentricities but is unflinchingly loyal.
At this point, I was quite enjoying the ride, even if the writing itself felt weirdly dissonant. Descriptive passages could be quite poetic and distinct, while the dialogue was often casual and very modern sounding, even allowing for "translation convention" (the unspoken understanding that fantasy worlds are being "translated" by the author from whatever the native tongue is into an Earth language). And if the greater world and mythology beyond Aisling felt weirdly flat and thin, and if the gargoyle felt a little more like the sort of quirky "animal" companion that would mostly exist to sell merchandising if this were a movie than a character with anything like a pivotal role in the plot, well, it was early yet. Surely such things would be fleshed out along the way.
As one might surmise from the rating, such things were not satisfactorily fleshed out.
After a relatively strong start and her gutsy, heart-rending decision to flee the only home and "mother" she's ever known, Six too often reverts to being a passive follower in the wake of Rory, Benji, and Benji's chief knight Maude in their greater mission, which involves challenging the Omens themselves; Benji insists that he has proof that they're not the gods they claim to be, merely usurpers to power who have manipulated the whole of the kingdom, and his first act as king will be to end them and take the powerful stone artifacts they carry. Despite her dreams and service, Six is soon convinced that the Omens are much less holy and benevolent than she was raised to believe, but still, she feels weirdly passive much of the time, almost childlike (she has a weird quirk where she refuses to wear shoes, and I don't consider it a spoiler to say that, no, all the page count spent on her rejecting footwear never does lead to any greater plot point; she's just acting like one of those willful toddlers who just won't keep their shoes on, even in locations where shoes would be advisable). She's supposed to be rather strong, having worked with stone on the crumbling cathedral (all the girls were encouraged to have skills or hobbies), but acts quite weak many times. Rory's attraction does not quite feel organic. And, despite some nice descriptions, I never really got a sense of a full world or kingdom; the hamlets are full of flattened caricatures of extras (and the fact that they're hamlets at all, not even towns, makes the whole of Stonewater feel weirdly small - with no mention that I recall of a greater world beyond its boundaries), the sprites are just sort of there without rhyme or reason (save serving as an occasional threat; there's lip service given to how they're actually victims in a way, starving to death and becoming more aggressive, but they're only rarely shown to be a tangible threat, attacking at plot-convenient times and in plot-convenient ways). The gargoyle remains weirdly extraneous, comic relief that does something useful once in a blue moon, and only at the very end is any greater purpose given to it... too little, too late for me to really connect with it. By the end, I just wasn't buying the story or the twists like I should have were I properly invested in the tale, and the climax was just a massive brick dropped on everything, landing with a dull thud that obliterated anything like interest in continuing as it set up a very contrived complication.
In any event, I suppose I can place part of the blame for my disappointment on myself, for taking to heart all the hype I've heard. I suppose it just is not the right story for me, but it's nice that some people are evidently enjoying it. I shall be passing my copy on, in the hopes that it finds a more appreciative reader.

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Scythe (Neal Shusterman)

Scythe

The Arc of a Scythe series, Book 1
Neal Shusterman
Simon and Schuster
Fiction, YA Sci-Fi
****+ (Good/Great)

DESCRIPTION:

The Age of Mortality ended with the rise of Thunderhead, the world-encompassing AI that supplanted fractious national governments, offers access to all human knowledge, and ushered in an era without disease, poverty, aging, or even death. Thanks to nanobots and advanced medical technology, almost everyone can be revived (though some who "splat" from a significant height may take longer)... but that created a new problem. How can the population be kept in check when lifespans are essentially limitless - and should an AI, even a benevolent overlord like Thunderhead, be in charge of such an essentially human experience? Thus was created the Scythedom, a society of humans a step apart from the rest of the population, even separate from the all-seeing, all-knowing Thunderhead. It is only they who can "glean" others, killing them permanently. As generations pass and memories of the mortal age fade, Scythes alone are the face of true death in this deathless world. How terrible it would be should that power lose its guardrails of purpose, duty, and morality...
The first time Citra met Scythe Faraday, he stopped into her family's apartment for dinner before he gleaned their next-door neighbor; by law, a Scythe can go where they wish and demand food, drink, or whatever they desire from anyone. Rowan met him when the scythe came to his school to glean a classmate and only Rowan stayed with the boy to the end. Without realizing it, both impressed Faraday to the point where he took them on as his apprentices, training them in killcraft and Scythedom code and custom. Neither loves killing or permanent death, and they both initially want nothing at all to do with scythes, but the more they see and learn, the more they realize just what purpose the Scythedom serves and how they might actually be good fits for the robes. But a rot has formed at the heart of the society, and Citra and Rowan are soon pulled into a tangle of politics and rivalries and the struggle over who will determine the future of the Scythedom - if the old codes and restraints crafted in the last days of mortality will stand, or if a newer, darker strain of gleaning will rise to threaten the whole populace.

REVIEW:

I've heard about this one for quite some time, almost all of the talk positive. Some consider it a modern classic. Reading it, I can see why. With echoes of dystopian classics like Aldous Huxley's Brave New World (yet presented in a way more relatable to modern readers; Huxley's work loses a little relevance if one isn't familiar with the then-current movement/threat of Fordism, for instance), Scythe creates an outwardly glorious future where humanity has finally conquered its oldest enemy, Death itself, but in doing so has - seemingly unwittingly - traded away most everything that made life worth living. Even old age is a minor inconvenience; anyone can "turn a corner" to reset themselves to their twenties, complete with refreshed minds and hormones, even raising new families and finding new lovers. So what is left to fuel passion, to drive people to greatness? With Thunderhead accumulating all knowledge, granting access to everyone at any time, why push oneself or push boundaries at all? Nanobots even regulate extreme emotions and blunt pain, so love itself isn't what it used to be anymore, either. (And if you're bored with people, well, there are robot facsimiles almost indistinguishable from humans to serve as partners.) Most of the great works of human history now languish in a population that cannot relate to all-consuming emotion or existential angst or isolation or other motivators to great thought or science or art. As one scythe openly wonders, are people even truly human anymore? Only the scythes offer anything like true danger, which makes people both uncomfortable with them and fascinated by them; a celebrity cult has sprung up around particularly noteworthy scythes. The scythes themselves, so intimately entwined with true mortal death, may be the last vestige of what it means to be truly, mortally human, but even their experiences are proscribed in certain ways; they have the same emotion-regulating and pain-suppressing nanobots as everyone else, they "turn the corner" at will like anyone else, and - until and unless they self-glean, as the only scythe who can end a scythe is themselves - they can potentially live forever like anyone else.
Citra and Rowan come from different places (though not vastly different worlds as one might find in the Age of Mortality; though Thunderhead allows some minor income inequality and there's still a little cultural variance, for the most part there aren't the vast divides of experience and opportunity that there once were). Citra is a much-loved member of her family, while Rowan's friend nicknamed him "lettuce" for how he's an unappreciated and overlooked filling in the "sandwich" of his large, sprawling, many-generational clan. Citra strives, while Rowan coasts. But both, when faced with Scythe Faraday, in their own way stood up and stood apart from the others around them as he did his deadly work - and both, in their own way, have qualities that would make them truly good at the job... especially because neither rushes to embrace the robes or the power that comes with even being a scythe's apprentice. Inevitably, there's even a spark of attraction between the two, despite the somber circumstances - and then the political games and growing schisms roiling within the Scythedom of MidMerica throw a spike in the works, determining that only one of them can ever take the ring and robe of a scythe, and the winner must glean the loser. The plot, which already wasn't slow, really takes off in some satisfying directions from here, as Citra and Rowan find themselves pursuing different paths and seeing different sides of death and themselves, both tested and tempted in ways they did not anticipate (and in which they sometimes fail). Around them is a web of fellow scythes and a few civilians, precious few of whom can be trusted as allies when needed. And always, front and center, is death, and what the world has become when final and ultimate death is in the hands of an elite few rather than the birthright of every human. If you think that this being a Young Adult title means that Shusterman fades to black or skirts around the gory, messy, dark subjects of "killcraft" and death, think again. It's there, always, and characters do not (or are not allowed to) shy away or blink. Even the characters may end up "deadish" more than once ("deadish" being what most people experience when they are not ultimately gleaned; an ending, followed by waking up, woozy and sore, in a revival facility).
This is not a book that drags its heels much, or overexplains too often. There are some aspects of the future that I felt could've used a touch more fleshing out and focus, as for the most part Shusterman keeps the lens on the scythes. Everything builds to a decently cathartic climax that sets up the next book, but feels satisfying enough that I don't need to rush right out and buy the sequel. The whole is an interesting, absorbing, and thought-provoking tale, one where there aren't always easy answers or clear divisions between right and wrong, good and evil.

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Making Comic Zines (Eddy Atoms)

Making Comic Zines

Eddy Atoms
Silver Sprocket
Nonfiction, YA? Creativity/Graphic Novel/Humor
***+ (Okay/Good)

DESCRIPTION:

Have you ever had a little idea you wanted to share with the world - a poem, a comic strip, a story, a thought - but didn't know how? Does creating a full-blown novel or comic book seem too intimidating? Why not try making your own zine? These short, small-run, self-published magazines are a great way to begin creating. They can be anything from a folded page to a stapled or sewn-together booklet, and you don't need to be a full-fledged artist or writer to get started. All you need is a little time, a little motivation, and a little idea... and some of the basics outlined here.

REVIEW:

In the interest of full disclosure, I once was part of a fanzine; my father was part of a long-running amateur press association (APA), and for many years I had reviews and the odd thoughts as a "coattail zine" in his entries (admittedly to help boost his page count). I'm not even sure if that APA is still around; we lost touch when Dad's dementia worsened to the point where he could no longer continue to publish, and there seemed no real point in me continuing on my own in what was essentially his circle of friends and associates. So when I found this while randomly browsing my library's Hoopla offerings for something that wasn't ridiculously dark and/or part of a larger franchise or multiverse, it tickled a little wisp of nostalgia.
On the plus side, Making Comic Zines brims with can-do, go-for-it energy, emphasizing that one doesn't need to be a Picasso or a Stephen King to create or have something worth saying. If you wait to be someone else to begin, someone smarter or better or more experienced or what-have-you, you'll never do anything. Start where you are. The bar for entry to zines is very low, and Atoms offers tips on keeping things cheap (or free) and accessible, especially useful to those of limited means and/or minors. It's quite encouraging and empowering, and it openly admits that this is just a launchpad; at 40 pages, it doesn't even try to be in depth, but goes over the basics of coming up with an idea, figuring out layout, printing, and distribution.
On the minus side, though, there's a heck of a lot that's glossed over or ignored, making it a bit too simplistic. Yes, parodies and satires of popular franchises are generally considered safe under "fair use," but big companies can and will bankrupt you proving it if they decided to push their claim, and not even minors are safe from that. There's also no mention of where the line between plagiarism or theft and homage lies, which can also get one into trouble. Further, I'm a bit skeptical of advice to distribute home-printed zines to local libraries; ask first, as not all libraries can or will take such donations. (Guerilla distribution of zines might be a safer bet, to be honest, leaving copies where people you think might enjoy them will find them; just be careful what kind of personal information you include in anything you create... and the same warning goes for fandoms in general. Many people are trustworthy, but there are dark corners in even the most benign-seeming groups.) And, of course, there's the ravenous kaiju elephant beast of AI that's not even addressed, a threat that not even zines are safe from. (As a minor unrelated note, in the section on printing, Atoms skips over the fact that many printers these days can collate your copies for you, saving you a step. It's one of several points where a little more practical nuts-and-bolts information could save newcomers a lot of time, tears, and frustration.)
For all that, though, it's a fun little zine with lots of energy and optimism, and it brought back some nice memories.

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Frostbite (Ian Boothby)

Frostbite

Ian Boothby, illustrations by Pia Guerra
Graphix
Fiction, YA Graphic Novel/Horror
***+ (Okay/Good)

DESCRIPTION:

A busload of high school hockey players, on the way home from a winter game, takes a wrong turn and slides off the road in the middle of the snowy woods... and is never seen again. This is just the latest disappearance in the valley between the two rivers.
Teen influencer siblings Jen and Dante have a popular channel filming themselves doing outrageous stunts - including jumping out of a helicopter to snowboard down a mountain. But they find themselves in way over their heads when they end up in the dangerous valley as night falls, and something dark and deadly begins to stir beneath the snow.

REVIEW:

A hidden valley, a secret danger, half-seen beasts lurking unseen, a desperate plan to survive a freezing night in the woods... Frostbite may not be the most original of tales, but it's a quick, clean, reliable concept, and it's not badly executed or rendered, but there were some issues that held it down in the ratings. For one, sometimes it was a bit tough to tell a few characters apart as they're bundled in snow gear. For another, the in-story logic feels weak and stretched at times. The monsters themselves have clear patterns and rules, but the people, especially the ones who have lived next door to the monsters for generations and the subset who have dedicated themselves to protecting others from the danger, really should have more situational awareness, particularly regarding the final "twist" in the last frame. I realize that many horror/monster stories require the odd bout of plot-enabling numbskull moments, but this one stretched credulity at a couple or three places. It doesn't overstay its welcome, though, and in the moment it produces some tense moments and startles.

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Skeleton Song (Seanan McGuire)

Skeleton Song
The Wayward Children series, Story 7.7
Seanan McGuire
Tor
Fiction, YA? Fantasy
**** (Good)

DESCRIPTION: In the world of Mariposa, days belong to the butterflies and bees and bright flowers, while the nights are the realm of the skeleton people, revived and maintained by the song of the world until dawn, when they rest again in their catacomb beds underground. The human boy Christopher came to Mariposa through a door from the hospital where he lay dying of bone cancer, but the Princess used her magic to save him. They fell in love. But she's a skeleton girl and he's a boy of living, hideous flesh, from another world no less... can they ever be together, or will the doors tear them apart again?
This short story is part of the Wayward Children series.

REVIEW: Like all children and teens at Eleanor West's boarding school for former world-travelers, Christopher's backstory has been teased and hinted at, as he speaks of his beloved Skeleton Girl and plays silent tunes on his bone flute that make bones dance. This short story delves into his time in Mariposa, and like all stories of the lost worlds beyond the doors, it's a tale of wonder and sorrow and deep, inevitable loss. Mariposa is a world of golden light and brilliant butterflies and endless song, where death is a celebration and life a bad memory quickly forgotten. Despite the prejudices of the skeletons and his status as an outsider, Christopher truly does love the world and the Princess, and she loves him. They wish to marry, but first they must speak to the King and Queen deep in the catacombs, where they will learn if their union is even possible; even if he were to die naturally, none of the skeleton people remember their living selves, so Christopher's reborn skeleton may be an entirely different person. Always, though, there's the threat of another door that might whisk him back to Earth.
It's interesting and beautiful and sad by turns, though it's ultimately just a little vignette, a glimpse at another world lost and soul torn by the seemingly fickle doors, and doesn't tell the reader anything they hadn't already been told (or could infer).

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Damsel (Evelyn Skye)

Damsel
Evelyn Skye
Random House
Fiction, YA Fantasy/Media Tie-In
***+ (Okay/Good)

DESCRIPTION: The rest of the world may consider the drought-stricken duchy of Inophe to be backwards and worthless, but to Elodie and her father it is beautiful in its own stark, strong way. Despite being noble born, the young woman is not above building shacks or digging latrine ditches if that's what her people need of her; that's what being a leader is, after all, working hard to ensure the success of the people you lead. When her father announces that he's arranged a marriage with Prince Henry of the prosperous island nation of Aurea, she doesn't hesitate but accepts it as her role, her way of ensuring Inophe's survival. Besides, after several months of exchanging letters, it's clear that he's an educated, intelligent young man who respects her, so perhaps the marriage that saves her nation might also spark genuine love. When she and her family arrive at Aurea, they find green forests and purple mountains, great fields of amber barley and scarlet berries, orchards of silver pears, and a gilded castle, plus Prince Henry is every bit as cultured and handsome as Elodie could have imagined. It's so much like a fairy tale it's hard to believe it's all happening to someone like her!
Then, on her wedding night, Henry's mother escorts Elodie to a secret ritual... a ritual that ends in a mountain chasm where a great dragon dwells. The beast's power enables the great bounty of the island, but in exchange it demands sacrifices - and she's just become one.
But Elodie is not the first to be thrown to the cunning, cruel beast beneath the mountain. Those who came before left more than charred bones and melted tiaras; they left markers, maps, and blood that whispers of their thoughts and fears and what they learned in their final days. With their help, perhaps Elodie of Inophe will manage to be the first to escape the dragon's wrath...
Based on the screenplay by Dan Mazeali for the Netflix movie Damsel.

REVIEW: I remember seeing the teasers for the Netflix movie and being intrigued, though mixed reviews and a general lack of time kept me from watching it. But I found this book, an adaptation of the original screenplay, for free at my old work place, and figured it would be worth a try. Having finished it, I don't think I'll be moving the movie into the viewing queue any time soon.
In its favor, Damsel reads fairly fast; I polished off nearly half of it during a long wait at the tire shop while my car was serviced, and finished the rest by the next evening. It establishes reasonably strong women, and after a meandering setup (even if I hadn't known the sacrifice "twist" from the movie trailers, the blurb on the cover gives that away, so drawing out the reveal grows mildly tedious as Elodie notes yet dismisses a string of yellow, orange, and finally glaring red flags over Prince Henry and Aurea) it delivers on the horror-like premise of a lone young woman trapped in a cavernous labyrinth with a taunting, teasing monster. Everywhere she goes, she finds marks and bones to remind her how many have tried and failed to survive the wyrm's wrath, how many have been betrayed by the Aurean royal house over the centuries. The terror is heightened when Elodie discovers that touching the bloodstains of previous victims lets her experience memories of their final days... but those stains, along with notes scratched into the walls, also provide a record of everything the previous victims over the past eight centuries have learned in their efforts to elude the dragon. Building on their progress, from mapping the maze of caverns to translating the wyrm's archaic language, Elodie might stand a slender chance of escape... but will getting away from the beast only make things worse? You don't just break a centuries-old system (or aggravate a centuries-old dragon) without significant collateral damage that may just kill you and everyone you love anyway.
There is no easy answer to the problem, not for her or the people of Aurea, many of whom are deeply troubled by the secret of their nation's wealth but haven't had the courage to fight back until now. If the parallel to Ursula K. Le Guin's classic story "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" isn't obvious, the book hammers home that point more than once (if not using the words), even as it emphasizes how good intentions and gray areas get smudged into black by small steps and willful blindness compounded over years and generations, no single drop of water willing to take responsibility for, let alone attempt to stop, the rising flood. Even the dragon is trapped in its own way by the bargain made generations ago, though that does not make it an ally of Elodie's efforts to survive the royal family's betrayal; it just makes the beast that much more enraged and dangerous, not to mention that much more experienced in the hunting and killing of problematic princesses.
As for the beast, the dragon draws on elder traditions in the vein of Smaug, a clever yet cruel beast whose rage cannot be reasoned away and whose scales and sheer power have bested fully armed knights, let alone princesses with little but stones and the fraying remnants of their wedding finery. At every turn, it taunts its prey, and Elodie (and, by proxy, the reader) can never be certain when she has truly outsmarted it or when it's merely toying with her by letting her think she's outsmarted it, only to surprise her with flames and sulfurous smoke and terrible threats. This is not a case of every other knight and princess being a total dunderhead or wimp until she comes along; it is very little wonder that nobody else has outwitted or outlasted the dragon's games, making it a truly formidable opponent even to a plucky young woman like Elodie.
Where the book lost ground in the ratings is towards the end, where it started feeling like it was stretching out the tension, only to pull a resolution out of its tail that felt unsatisfactory given all that had gone before. The story also, after going out of its way to establish how it was women who ultimately found empowerment to challenge injustice, then fell back on a tired trope that knocked the legs out from under their independence by essentially intimating that a woman's ultimate drive, whether for good or ill or in between, is dependent on motherhood in some form or another, without exception. (I can't get into more details without spoilers, but it really flattened what had been a batch of strong characters.) It all just felt like such a letdown after everything the characters went through to get there. The earlier promise and the terror of the cat-and-mouse (or dragon-and-princess) chases through the mountain caverns managed to barely keep the rating above a flat three stars, but it was a close call.

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Dragonfruit (Makiia Lucier)

Dragonfruit
Makiia Lucier
Clarion Books
Fiction, YA Fantasy
**** (Good)

DESCRIPTION: Seadragons are the great wonder and wealth of the Nominomi Sea, and the terror of many a ship. Their scales can be fashioned into nigh-impenetrable armor. Their flesh can be rendered into pure oil that burns brighter and cleaner than anything else. A stew made from their eyes can restore lost vigor and youth. Every part of the great beasts is worth at least its weight in gold. But it's their eggs, known as dragonfruit, that are most coveted and rarest seen. Consuming a dragonfruit, the old stories say, can erase one great sorrow from your life... but to do so is to risk the anger of the sea god, who will exact a terrible price. Sometimes, though, for the truly desperate and lost and heartbroken, the risk is worth the reward.
As a girl, Hanalei was a page to the queen of the wealthy Tamarind Islands... and, like the queen, fell victim to a terrible poison that induced a comalike slumber. Three seadragon eggs were brought in the hopes that they could provide a cure. But an accident destroyed two eggs, and Hanalei's father, a loyal soldier, turned traitor and stole the last egg, whisking it and his his stricken daughter away from the Tamarinds. The cure worked, but it cost the father his life, and made them both exiles from their homeland.
Ten years later, Hanalei wanders the Nominomi Sea. She studies the dwindling population of seadragons, selling her sketches and observations to the handful of scholars who want to understand the wonders of the Nominomi, but always the hunters and the foreigners seem to get there first. But she has an advantage they do not; ever since her cure, she has been able to sense the great beasts. Though she tries to keep it secret, one dragoner captain, Bragadin of the Anemone, works it out and takes her captive as he hunts for a gravid seadragon. Passing near the Tamarinds, she takes a chance to escape, even knowing she'll probably be seen as the unwelcome daughter of a traitor. Instead, she finds an old childhood friend, Prince Samahtitamahenele (or Sam), who tells her the queen, his mother, still sleeps her poisoned sleep. When a fresh seadragon nest is found on the island, Hanalei has a chance to undo her late father's mistake and secure a dragonfruit to cure the queen - but others covet the eggs, and the Anemone is still lurking just beyond the boundary stones.

REVIEW: There's plenty to like about Dragonfruit, from its setting - refreshingly non-Eurocentric, based instead on cultures and mythologies of the Pacific Islands - to its dragons. There are also some niggling issues that almost (but not quite) cost it a half-star in the ratings.
The story doesn't drag its feet, opening with the legend of the dragonfruit and the eggs' miraculous powers and establishing its heroine Hanalei and the seadragons, as well as the threat of dragoner crews. Hanalei is a decently pro-active main character, not one prone to freezing up or sinking into useless despair and helplessness, though she isn't above mistakes. Her attempt to save the dragons lands her in the clutches of an old nemesis, Captain Bragadin of the Anemone. As a penniless orphan far from home after her father was killed and his money stolen, she wound up working in his oil processing facilities rendering dead seadragons, earning starvation wages and hands full of silvery scars from the obsidian-sharp scales, until she outgrew the job; small, nimble hands (and young, helpless children) are his preferred workforce on land, while his ship is full of the usual assortment of pirate thugs. He's almost stereotypical in his monstrous behavior, but he's clever enough to have figured out that there's a reason she seems to keep turning up whenever there are seadragons to be slain. So fixated is he on his hunt and the potential reward for a clutch of seadragon eggs that he endangers his entire ship fending off a potential rival. Hanalei manages to escape, only to be forced to confront her past, or rather the wreckage her father left behind while she was comatose from poison... and this is where the story morphs into its main form, after it seemed like it would be about Hanalei and the dragoner captain fighting over the fate of the seadragons and the eggs. (It's not much of a spoiler to say that the Anemone is not entirely out of the picture, but it is shifted to the back burner for a long stretch.)
Sam, for his part, has lived half his life under the shadow of a stricken mother. His grandmother currently wears the crown of the Tamarinds - theirs is a matrilinear culture, power passed from mother to daughter - but cannot rule indefinitely. Unless Sam's mother is cured, and soon, Sam will be expected to marry, a political arrangement to strengthen the islands' stance in a world where foreigners are increasingly intrusive, for all that the spices of the Tamarinds still give them some wealth and leverage. His heart is clearly not in it; he pines for his old childhood friend, for all that he does not think of their bond as love in the popular sense of the term. He also carries his mother's living "mark", a tattoolike animal that sometimes appears spontaneously on the skin of islanders and can become a living creature, something like a familiar, to carry out tasks and provide companionship. The fruit bat is a perpetual reminder of his ailing mother, both a comfort and a further burden. He never even got his year of travel in, an island tradition where men and women leave the Tamarinds for several months as the cross the threshold into adulthood. Unexpectedly finding Hanalei fleeing a dragoner ship right on his metaphoric doorstep is a surprise that brings up all sorts of complicated emotions, not to mention all sorts of problems. The names of her and her father are still raw wounds to many on the Tamarinds, particularly the noble houses who still bear the brunt of the man's decision to snatch away the queen's potential cure to save his own daughter; the fact that Hanalei was evidently cured, indicating that the queen, too, would've likely recovered if she'd received the egg instead, makes her return all the more painful. But bonds of family and love are deep and complicated... especially when Hanalei's return coincides with a potential new seadragon nest on the island, and thus a chance to atone for her father's selfish act. Her ability to sense the dragons themselves gives the islanders a slight advantage in tracking down the eggs, but there are many people who feel desperate for their own miracle, and thus many potential traitors... in theory.
Now we get to the parts that almost weighed the ratings down. The baddies and the shifty characters turn out to be far, far too obvious from their first appearances, to the point where it gets hard to believe that nobody in the cast even remotely suspects them. This doesn't just apply to the dragoner crew and foreigners, but to people that the characters know (theoretically) well on the island. There's also a sense of blunted corners and pulled punches that almost feels more like what one would find in a younger middle-grade novel, and some elements that are brought up and then completely dropped without followthrough or fleshing out. (Even the "romance", such as it is, is so mild that I wondered at the original target audience, if it was "aged up" for marketing reasons for a story aimed younger. Not that every teen book needs to drip with hormones, mind you, but something about just felt odd.) With that sense of bubble-wrapping comes a hint of "plot armor" where it becomes impossible to consider that any serious harm or inconvenience will ultimately hinder the main characters. (And, yes, that's not entirely uncommon, but it just seemed a little more obvious than it should've been, in the same way that one intellectually knows a movie isn't reality but it's harder to suspend disbelief when the boom mic keeps dropping into the frame. I kept seeing the boom mic here.)
Those issues aside, the story does move well, and I generally enjoyed it. It has many nice details and scenes that bring the islands and their unique magic to life. It's also a standalone, which is refreshing when so many books are series these days. I ultimately liked it enough to keep the rating afloat at four stars, though I'll admit it came close to dropping more than once.

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The Rainfall Market (You Yeong-Gwang)

The Rainfall Market
You Yeong-Gwang, translated by Slin Jung
Ace
Fiction, YA? Fantasy
***+ (Okay/Good)

DESCRIPTION: Everyone's heard rumors of the Rainfall Market. Supposedly, if you're trapped and frustrated and at rock bottom in your life with no way out or up, you can write a letter to a particular address - and sometimes, just sometimes, you will recieve a Ticket to the Rainfall Market, with instructions to arrive on the first day of the rainy season. Here, among the Dokkaebi spirits, one may trade away the pains and sorrows of life and purchase a magic Orb that will forever change your fortunes - but only one orb, and if you do not leave the market before the rainy season ends, you'll vanish forever.
Kim Serin hates her life. She hates living in a condemned building that's slated for demolition. She hates being so poor that university isn't ever going to be an option. She hates that her mother works so hard and is so busy that she barely notices her own daughter. She hates being so lonely after her sister ran away from home. She would do anything, just anything, for a chance to be someone else, to live a different life. She only half-believes the stories of the Rainfall Market, but she's desperate enough to try anything, so she writes her letter. Surprisingly, she gets a red envelope with a golden Ticket tucked inside.
She doesn't know what to expect when she goes to the tiny little village beyond the end of the train line, but what she finds is a hidden city of wonders and dangers and magic... and, unbeknownst to her, a hidden power struggle between Dokkaebi in which Serin is just a pawn - and a potential sacrifice.

REVIEW: There seems to be a string of Asian cozy fantasies coming out these days, or maybe it's just that there's a string of them somehow coming across my radar. In any event, this promised a light, cozy tale, and I was in the mood for light and cozy, what with so many, many things being dark and decidedly not cozy. (Plus I'd just finished a Stephen King novella, and I try to switch up moods.) What I found was a story with shades of Miyazaki's Spirited Away, in a whimsical fairy tale marred mostly by predictability and a Lesson that's too obvious from the start.
Though marketed at general adult audiences, The Rainfall Market feels more like young adult, or maybe even middle-grade; Serin's worries about university and the future strike me as more (young) teen, but the overall tone skews light and bubbly and even silly, with a surreal blunting of corners and softening of blows and that sense of the main character being walked through adventures and events with just enough peril to be a little challenged but not so much as to ever really be in serious danger. The descriptions make me wonder if it wasn't intended to be illustrated or animated; there's an exaggeration to things, even the human girl Serin, that made me think of anime.
In any event, Serin starts out clearly - and with some justification - unhappy with her life, trudging through school and even messing up in her martial arts training (the one thing that brings her happiness and which she thought she could do well until she messes up in front of everyone), then climbing the endless stairs to her condemned home and a mother who scarcely seems to talk to her only remaining child. The book may wallow slightly here, but establishing Serin's misery is essential to drive her to her desperate letter. Then she goes to the Rainfall Market and encounters her first Dokkaebi, and with him the start of her real adventure; just being willing to trust him is her first test on the way to the Rainfall Market, the first of many challenges she'll face.
These Korean spirits are bigger than people (usually), with disproportionate arms and legs, and they steal things like memories or worries or even the impulse to keep clean on vacation from humans, turning these emotions into magical items. They have shades of faerie about them, with their fascination with humans as playthings of a sort, their bargains and trickery and temptations, and their secret ways and rivalries that can threaten any mortal caught up in them, only they tend to be more silly than traditional fae.
Serin knows none of this, of course; she's just a desperate girl, willing to follow a strange, childlike giant figure into an impossible city just for a chance to not keep living a life that feels unbearable. She soon realizes that her misery really does seem special; she alone got a golden Ticket while most everyone got Silver, and she alone is invited by the host to a special meeting, where she's given special privileges and advantages as she seeks out a magic Orb that will fix her life. Then she's off through the city of the Rainfall Market, visiting a string of peculiar Dokkaebi shops and shopkeepers and performing good deeds and tasks that see her rewarded beyond the simple purchasing of an Orb. Each Orb offers her a glimpse into another life that seems to give her what she wants, until she sees that everything she thought would bring her happiness can also lead to misery and sorrow to rival her own. Still, she takes a little too long figuring out the Lesson the Orbs are spelling out in bright rainbow letters (this is part of what makes me wonder about the target age, as this reads so young I'd be tempted to call it a children's story, not even middle-grade), while shadows lurk behind her and some unknown plot between the Dokkaebi plays out around her adventures. Eventually, of course, the short rainy season must end, but will Serin have found a better life before it's too late to return home, or will she miss out on this unique opportunity?
You can probably guess about how things unfold; I mentioned earlier that it's somewhat predictable, playing out like a video game in which Serin has to complete simple puzzles and challenges before passing through each level, gathering Orbs and other items that, naturally, will prove useful at the endgame. But even with that said, it's generally a good-hearted story, with some solid emotions and fun imagery.

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A Little Like Waking (Adam Rex)

A Little Like Waking
Adam Rex
Roaring Brook Press
Fiction, YA Fantasy
**** (Good)

DESCRIPTION: Zelda's day started like any other. She woke in her bedroom in the little yellow house, she heads out through the front gate whose creaking sounds like a friendly frog, she went jogging into town past the frisbee-playing boys by the courthouse, she smiled at the clown in the laundromat, and suddenly realized she had a geology (or is it geometry?) quiz in five minutes... but today, she grabs a bike and tries to beat the bell to class, cutting in front of a car - and that's when she sees him: a teen boy, who tries to warn her of the danger she doesn't see until nearly too late.
A boy she has never seen before - and she knows every face in town like her own fingerprints.
The next morning, she wakes again in her bedroom, and goes out again on a jog... but she can't shake the memory of the stranger, or the sense that something isn't quite right about the world around her. It's all a little too perfect, like something out of a dream. But is she the dreamer, or is someone else - and what will happen when it's time to wake up for real?

REVIEW: It's very, very seldom that a book can pull of a "dream" ending without becoming an automatic wall-bouncer. It's a different matter entirely when the book admits it's a dream upfront - and when the question at its heart is who the dreamer is, and what the dream is trying to accomplish for them, what story their mind needs to tell itself, before they're allowed to wake. This makes the dream and its inhabitants matter, and allows the reader to invest in them and their fates. With frequently surreal imagery and imaginative turns of phrase, Adam Rex captures the peculiar nature and illogical logic of dreams, which can so often seem much, much bigger than the insides of a single human mind, populated by people and places that can feel as solid as anything in the waking world - complete with sounds, textures, scents, tastes, and even (despite the popular trope) pain.
From the first ring of her alarm clock, Zelda's world is both too perfect and too strange to be truly real, but she never thinks to question it, or question how everything and everyone seems to center on her; the town's inhabitants all know her by name even if she doesn't know them, and the Frisbee bros remind her of the test she's about to miss... even though part of her knows she's graduated already. But it's only the arrival of the stranger, Langston, that shakes her complacency... that, and when she hears a strange, deep, disembodied voice that nobody else hears. The arrival of Patches the cat, who not only died when she was a young girl but now speaks with a decidedly philosophical and poetic bent, also helps tip the scales, as does the realization that she cannot seem to read long stretches of words; letters can be jumbled, and she might read small bits and pieces but they change as often as not when she blinks or looks away. When she alerts the rest of the town to the fact that they're all in a dream, chaos erupts; every one of them believes themselves to be the dreamer, as they all have lives and memories... and the rest cannot handle the idea that they and their memories aren't real, because they are so very real to themselves. Zelda is certain she's the one - doesn't everything in this place seem to center on her? - but Patches also makes convincing arguments, and neither can entirely rule out the shy boy Langston. But this dream has been going on an awfully long time, and grown impossibly complex; surely something must be very, very wrong with whoever is dreaming this world into being. Thus, Zelda determines to find a way to wake up, accompanied by Patches and Langston. Thus begins a trek to the edge of the dream... but any mind that has stayed this deep in slumber is not one that wants to face the waking world, and innumerable distractions and obstacles soon emerge. As the trio travel and navigate challenges, they continue to wonder which of them is the real person, or if any of them are; it's entirely possible that each of them is just a fragment of the dreamer, bits and pieces of their personality given independent form, either to work through something or simply through the random dance of neural electrical firings in a possibly-damaged brain.
Even given the inherent peculiarity of life in a (literal) dream world, the story managed to keep my interest and make me care about the characters (especially Patches) - even knowing that some (or even all) might not "survive" the ending. Given how hard they work for the sake of the dreamer, the lengths they go to in order to unravel each complication and persist in their quest to wake up, slowly piecing together what happened to create a dream this deep and determined to persist, it becomes a true quest requiring true sacrifice... and even if they aren't all "real" in a conventional sense, they're more than real enough to do their part, and some spark of them may well live on (skirting spoilers, the events of the dream and what the dreamer experiences and learns do indeed matter in the waking world, so it wasn't all wasted effort; some parts of the dream, therefore, do live on beyond the end of the dream itself, and in some way always will).
As a closing note, one point where Rex "failed" in capturing dream logic is where the dream characters don't recognize that they're not real when confronted. In my experience, you never ask someone in a dream if they're real if you don't want to know, because they will tell you the truth (and it will depress you far more than it will them, because danged if some of the best people I meet aren't in my own dreams).

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An Enchantment of Ravens (Margaret Rogerson)

An Enchantment of Ravens
Margaret Rogerson
Margaret K. Elderberry Books
Fiction, YA Fantasy/Romance
**** (Good)

DESCRIPTION: The town of Whimsy exists in a perpetual summer, thanks to its proximity to the fairy courts and the influence of the Alder King. The immortal fair folk cannot get enough of crafted works - art, poetry, anything worked and shaped and made, even cooked food and brewed drinks - for all that they themselves cannot hold so much as a frying pan without risking death. In exchange for these works of mortal hands, they pay in kind with enchantments and blessings... though, as in anything related to the fae, one must be very careful what one asks, and how one asks it, lest a loophole be found. One must also be careful not to give offense, be impolite, or otherwise imply that life in Whimsy can feel less like a privilege and more like a trap... not even when the odd monster borne in the magical woods ventures into town and kills locals. Above all else, one must never delude oneself into believing that one is in love with a fairy; the Good Laws of the Alder King strictly forbid relations, with death for any offender.
A gifted artist since she could hold a brush, seventeen-year-old Isobel is renowned through the town of Whimsy and the fairy courts for her portraits. When her reputation spreads as far as the reclusive Rook, the Autumn Prince who has not been seen in the mortal realm for centuries, some see it as a testament to her skill and the greatest of fortune; after all, the more powerful the fair folk, the greater the gifts they might bestow. But ever since her parents were killed by a magical beast, Isobel has known better than to consider dealings with fairies as fortunate in any way, or to be tempted by their more extravagant promises; for payment, she keeps to strictly practical, useful enchantments, such as blessings on the household chickens or protections for her family. With the many immortals she has painted, the countless hours she's observed them, she knows better than anyone just how inhuman and empty they truly are within.
Rook is nothing at all like any fair folk she has painted before - but it's not until she paints his picture that she realizes why. Her brush captures the sorrow she sees deep in his amethyst eyes - and one thing no faerie ever shows, or would even admit to experiencing, is a mortal emotion. Rook is enraged, and demands she fix the "flaw" - snatching her away from Whimsy and bringing her into the heart of the fairy realm to do so. But a greater threat lurks here, in the endless woods and cruel courts, one that turns Isobel and Rook into unlikely allies... and, before either realizes it, the two become something more to each other, something that violates the Good Law itself.

REVIEW: There is no shortage of "romantasy" on the shelves these days, just as there's no shortage of fairies. This title, however, manages to avoid the more obvious traps many of those books fall into, presenting a reasonably competent heroine and fairies who retain the sharp edges and inscrutable, dangerous nature that makes relations with the fair folk - even casual meetings, let alone love affairs - so deadly.
In many books with the fae, there's an inherent power imbalance; aside from the usual weakness to iron, the fair folk are ageless, physically and mentally superior, innately magical, and unburdened with anything like what a human would recognize as morality (even if they are sometimes encumbered by their own peculiar customs and rituals), against which humans stand little chance. Here, however, mortals hold a couple advantages that puts them closer to a level playing field (if still often outmatched and easily duped by fae illusions and cunning). The biggest of these is humanity's ability to craft items, to change and shape natural things, something that is so antithetical to faerie nature that they could die if they even attempted to write a single letter or hold a sewing needle. Fairies can (and do) covet crafted items, but can never make them themselves, a "magic" they can never possess - and they burn with envy, even as they lust after mortal craftings. The other advantage, which can also be a disadvantage, is of course the range of human emotions. Fae have something like emotions, but not in a way humans readily recognize most of the time; more often than not they're simply mimicking or emulating rather than experiencing such things as joy or sorrow (though they do seem to have quite genuine streaks of envy and anger). The fairies see mortal emotions as weaknesses, and one thing their society will not tolerate is weakness in any form. This is what makes Isobel's "mistake" in Rook's portrait such a source of scandal and rage; by showing the sorrow that she saw in him, she was potentially showing the faerie world that the Autumn King is weak. Thus, his fury and his demand that she make it right... but there are games afoot in the courts that even Rook misjudges, putting them both at risk.
Neither Rook nor Isobel are perfect, and both make mistakes and missteps that cost them, but they also learn along the way. The dangers the two face are real, tangible, and occasionally terrifying; the fairies are only barely human beneath their glamours, more akin to predatory ghouls or conniving demons who delight in tormenting mortals even as they obsessively emulate humans - in part to mock, or simply to study their favored prey, but also out of an unspoken yearning toward something they can never truly understand. Only a few, such as Rook, even come close. The relationship between the two has sparks early on, but takes some time to spark a flame, yet even in the midst of attraction Isobel is never a helpless victim of her own hormones or emotions. She can (and does) step back and recognize what an unwise idea it is, even if the heart ultimately cannot be restrained. Rook, too, never forces the issue, and is as surprised as she is to find his own heart betraying him.
The story hits a few lulls and can be a touch repetitious in its description of fae cruelties, drawing out some torments and scenes, but only really stumbles with a climax that draws itself out a little too long for its own good. There are also some elements that were set up to be more meaningful or plot relevant than they ultimately were, such as Isobel's little "sisters", March and May; they used to be a pair of goats until fairy magic intervened, and they retain several goatlike traits (a streak for mischief and a tendency toward destructive behavior and even head-butting), but ultimately don't contribute anything meaningful to the plot. I get the feeling there's supposed to be a sequel at least, which may explain why parts of the ending feel unfinished. But it does more right than it does wrong, so I ended up forgiving it some weaknesses and gave it the solid fourth star in the ratings it came close to losing.

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Pet (Awaeke Emezi)

Pet
Awaeke Emezi
Make Me a World
Fiction, YA Fantasy/Literary Fiction/Sci-Fi
*** (Okay)

DESCRIPTION: Once upon a time, the world was full of monsters: not goblins or demons or storybook beasts, but the kind who walk on two legs. They could be anywhere, and look like anything, and they spread their greed and hate and evil far and wide, until the people finally had enough. It took decades, and many things were done which are no longer spoken of, but at last the revolution succeeded. They dismantled the prisons and abolished the firearms that turned public places into potential massacre zones. They turned to proactive intervention rather than reactive punishment, embracing difference and diversity over bigotry and hatred. And the angels, the heroes of that era, still watch over the better world they created in the town of Lucille, one in which the public can at last breathe a sigh of relief, because the monsters are all gone.
At least, that's what the children are taught in school, and what their parents tell them.
Jam did not mean to bleed on her mother's latest unfinished painting. She just wanted to look at it, to ponder the strange, beastly figure of smoke and feathers and horns that had emerged on the canvas. When she accidentally cuts herself, a few drops of her blood somehow wake the creature, or rather open a portal to some strange other place through which it can step into her world. It tells her she can call it Pet, and declares that it is a hunter of monsters, summoned to this world because it is needed.
Surely it must be mistaken; Mom and Dad and all her teachers tell her that the monsters are gone and never coming back to Lucille. But it is quite insistent, and Jam begins to wonder. Would she even know what a monster looked like if she saw one? And could it be possible that one has been hiding in plain sight right in front of her and she just didn't know how to see?

REVIEW: Any book that opens with a prologue explaining its themes to the reader before they can have a chance to read and discover them for themselves is waving a red flag warning that the coming story is not going to tell me a tale but sell me a message. But I'd already given up on another audiobook for my workday and had a very specific window of time to fill, and this looked intriguing. Thus, I waded in.
The early parts have a lot of promise. It takes place in an unspecified place and time, either near future or alternate timeline, where the promise of progressive revolution has borne fruit. All the "monsters" who have warped society for too long, from the child predators to the overpowered monsters who have seized the reins of power at the highest echelons to strangle justice and turn a profit off poisoning the land and murdering countless people, have been cast down, the militarization of police and packing of prisons has ended, and even religious extremism has been nipped, with religion itself only vaguely discussed in school (though the public libraries are well stocked and well staffed and will offer anything to anyone who wishes to learn). Jam is transgender, her parents are different races, and her best friend/potential boyfriend Redemption's extended family includes a parental throuple. This is a future that's as close to an accepting, peaceful utopia as possible, though of course it's not perfect... and, as the book shows, it threatens to become a victim of its own success. Though Jam's and Redemption's parents, and of course the elder "angels" who fought for this society, remember the time before and the many guises of the monsters they overthrew, children no longer understand just how easy it is for terrible people to hide in plain sight. They don't know the warning signs, and when anyone does dare suggest that perhaps there are still dangers in the world, their elders refuse to acknowledge that monsters could ever return; after all, they sacrificed so much and did "hard things" to end the terrors, and they refuse to admit that this is not a battle that can be decisively won and forgotten about. When Jam accidentally wakes the being "Pet" (which may or may not be an angel), she, too, does not want to believe - especially when it tells her that the monster it is here to hunt is in Redemption's home. Her own parents deny the possibility so vehemently that Jam convinces herself that Pet is mistaken, or even lying. Yet Pet insists, while she grows conflicted, then denies any chance of trouble, only Pet insists....
You may sense a bit of repetition in the previous bits. While the early parts of the tale have a certain literary, surreal element - the peculiar being emerging from the painting with its slightly archaic and poetic speech, the way her parents react to its arrival, even the way neurodivergent and selectively mute Jam interacts with the world as much through energy and vibration as verbal or signed communication - it starts getting a little heavy-handed with its themes, and soon sinks into a holding pattern that keeps things stuck for far too long, where Pet insists that it needs to hunt and Jam needs to help it figure out where the monster is, while Jam refuses to take the threat seriously and doesn't really believe monsters are real anymore, only for Pet to once again repeat itself with some variant of "the hunt is the hunt" and "see the unseen" or some other entirely useless phrase or sentiment that fails to convince Jam to step up to a plate that needs to be stepped up to if the story's going to move forward, yet which she dithers about for far, far too long... and even when she does, the tale bogs down more with too much filler and not enough progress. At some point, it stopped being intriguing and started being tiresomely preachy and repetitious, before (slowly) building up to a (slow) confrontation and (slow) resolution, underlain with a religious subtext that felt a little out of place. By the end, my skull was fairly ringing from the sledgehammer blows driving its message home, plus few things irk me more than a sermon mislabeled as a story.

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Fallen Angels (Walter Dean Myers)

Fallen Angels
Walter Dean Myers
Scholastic
Fiction, YA Action/Historical Fiction
**** (Good)

DESCRIPTION: Perry was never supposed to be in Vietnam at all, let alone on the front lines. He had a bad knee from a basketball injury, and was told that he'd be given a desk job for his year of military service, the Harlem boy's only option when his college prospects fell through. But a paperwork mix-up led to him being sent overseas - for a desk job, he's assured, just until his medical profile catches up to him and he's returned stateside. Yet somehow he finds himself in a "hooch" - barracks - with the rest of the soldiers, issued a weapon, and sent on patrols. Rumors keep insisting that the war's nearly over anyway, so Perry shouldn't see much, if any, action. If that's true, someone forgot to tell the Vietcong...

REVIEW: Another frequently challenged and banned book, Fallen Angels dives straight into the nightmare experience that was Vietnam. For all the talk and propaganda about patriotism and honor and justified force, for those with boots on the ground and blood on their hands, war is hell.
Perry just wanted to go to college and become a writer or even a philosopher, but when college plans fell through, the army seemed like a not-bad option for an income and life experience. He's told, more than once, that his profile will keep him out of harm's way, and learns the hard way that recruiters and superiors sometimes lie, just as countries lie to their own citizens, the first of many harsh lessons. Indeed, Perry ends up learning more about life, death, honor, cowardice, himself, and the world in his tour than he ever imagined, starting the moment he arrives in Vietnam; a fellow green recruit is killed right in front of him before they even reach the barracks, an early warning that death is all around, at all times, and can come for anybody at any time. From this inauspicious start, Perry's experience only gets grimmer. Even his own superiors can be at least as much of a threat as the enemy - and the enemy is often nebulous and seemingly ubiquitous. Efforts to win the favor of a local village by a goodwill visit one day transition almost seamlessly into a firefight in the same village's streets shortly afterwards, a whiplash that borders on the surreal but which is just another day in the madness of the war.
More than once, Perry must ask himself what he's doing here and why he's fighting; the answers he comes up with never seem adequate to justify the horrors he sees and the death he deals to total strangers. His bonds with his bunkmates keep him sane, if just barely at times, bonds that don't spare the rough, dark humor and crudity of soldiers in high-stress situations. None of them are perfect men, and none are any more guaranteed survival than Perry himself is, especially as numbers dwindle and his unit finds itself on a suspicious number of dangerous assignments, particularly the non-white members of the unit; racism is alive and well in the ranks. Some grumble about protesters back home, especially as the flow of new recruits to fill empty bunks slows to a trickle, but the longer the war drags on (despite peace being perpetually just a few weeks away) and the higher the body count (a body count that American news somehow never mentions when it talks about the war at all), the more Perry and the others start to wonder whether they have a point. The end result is a brutal, visceral look at the true face of war, an ugly thing even when necessary and worse when the reasoning is (generously described as) ambiguous.

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Serendipity (Marissa Meyer, editor)

Serendipity: Ten Romantic Tropes, Transformed
Marissa Meyer, editor
Feiwel and Friends
Fiction, YA Anthology/Romance
**** (Good)

DESCRIPTION: The matchmaker who doesn't expect to find their own match... the fake relationship that reveals real feelings... the vacation mix-up leaving two people sharing a room... the grand romantic gesture... In this anthology, several notable authors explore these and other tropes of young adult romance tales.

REVIEW: For all that I don't generally read many romances (especially romances that aren't crossovers with some other genre, such as sci-fi or fantasy), I'm familiar enough with the tropes and with rom-coms (also not generally my go-to entertainment, but ubiquitous enough I've absorbed the gist through cultural osmosis) to see what these stories were trying to do and where they were working to subvert them, even though some of the subversions didn't feel as subversive as I'd expected given the title and its promise of tropes "transformed". As one might expect, I enjoyed some tales more than others, though none were outright clunkers. The stories present a spectrum of personalities and attractions, with some cultural variations as well. All things considered, it made a nice break to change up my reading selections. As with all anthologies, I rated on a cumulative score.

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Lockjaw (Matteo L. Cerilli)

Lockjaw
Matteo L. Cerilli
Tundra Books
Fiction, YA Horror
*** (Okay)

DESCRIPTION: Bridlington is a quintessential small American town, the sort of place where goodly folks mind their own business and stay out of trouble... and where, too often, the cries of the outcasts are ignored in the name of keeping the peace. When young Chuck Warren, a bullied eleven-year-old boy, died in the old mill one night, Paz Espino saw what happened, but the grown-ups don't believe that she saw a monster in the shadows below the hole in the floor. She's branded a problem child, a troublemaker, and only her three best friends stick by her as the rest of the town turns their backs. But Paz is like a bulldog with jaws locked on a bone; she's determined to find and kill the beast, and if nobody else will help her, then she'll do it herself or die trying.
The young stranger blows into town with a cruddy old car, a mutt named Bird, an envelope of money, and no name. He's looking for a fresh start far away from home, and Bridlington seems as good a place as any. But from the moment he pulls up at the gas station, he gets a sense of hidden secrets and lurking danger, a sense that grows stronger after a strange encounter with a group of kids outside the convenience store. Taking the name Asher, he starts trying to build a new life, making friends with the right sort of people, but Bridlington is a town haunted by dark secrets - and the bill for looking the other way is about to come due...

REVIEW: In the vein of Stephen King's It where children are left to deal with the problems intentionally ignored (and sometimes openly exacerbated) by adults and generations past, Lockjaw exposes the "monster" underlying the veneer of civility, in towns small and large. Though at times effectively creepy and even surreal, sometimes it gets too clever for its own good with confusing timeline shifts and some exceptionally heavy-handed messages about silence in the face of injustices by the end.
Starting with young Chuck's doomed efforts to connect with a new group of outcast friends after being bullied on the playground, the tale goes to "Asher" and his seemingly carefree arrival in Bridlington with nothing but a dog for company. This is clearly a young man with secrets in his past, and it's just as clear that this small town has secrets of its own, even as he tries to ignore the pricklings of premonition that hang over his first introduction to the group of outcast kids. Other characters who become entangled in things include Paz's older sister, who has done everything in her power to distance herself from her peculiar sibling, and Beetle, a trans teen who is counting the seconds until he can escape to college and leave the whispers and cruelties of small town life in the dust. Creepy overtones and tension drift through the tale in a thickening miasma that sometimes obscures the plot itself, not helped by how the story jumps back and forth in time at random (it's possible this is an issue with the audiobook, that there is some hint in the printed version, because otherwise it comes across as an author trying to wow the reader with a two-by-four surprise that felt more like jerking me around for half the book), and eventually the promised supernatural/gory elements come to the forefront as the metaphoric chickens of Bridlington come home to roost. Asher, set up to be the main character, became my least favorite of the bunch, far too cagey with his past and shallow in his motives (the reason is later revealed, but by then my general dislike of his apparent shallow pursuit of popularity - even in the face of glaring red flags -had set in, plus even after the reveal he remained overreactive to an almost cartoonish degree when confronted with conflict, to the point of literally jumping around and denting his car door and needing to be socked in the face by another character to calm down). The latter parts feel drawn out to grind in the main lesson about the toxicity of brushing off bullying and abuse and intolerance as "not my business" and masking it as small-down politeness, and how the interest on those injustices compounds exponentially. The heavy hand of the Message smashes the reader in the face repeatedly by the end, to an almost numbing effect. This alone dropped it down to nearly three stars; the final half-star loss concerns the unnecessary cruelty of the fate of Bird the dog.

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For the Wolf (Hannah Whitten)

For the Wolf
The Wilderwood series, Book 1
Hannah Whitten
Orbit
Fiction, YA Fantasy
**** (Good)

DESCRIPTION: Long ago, the magic of the Wilderwood was available to all who willingly laid a sacrifice beneath its branches... until the Five Kings struck a bargain to imprison the dark gods and monsters beneath their roots, diverting all power to that monumental and eternal task. But the forest would still bargain, if at a higher price. And when the Five Kings rode into the woods again, they became imprisoned in the Shadowlands too. Only the seemingly-immortal man known as the Wolf remains in the Wilderwood now, protecting the people from the shapeshifting monsters that slip free from the Shadowlands. For his service, he demands the second royal daughter of every ruler of Valleyda be sent to the Wilderwood, never to be seen again.
Red has known her fate since childhood. While her older sister Neve will someday inherit the silver crown, she is no more than a sacrificial lamb for the Wolf, and nothing her sister or her handful of friends can do will change that fate - especially not once she showed the Mark of all Second Daughters, a sign of the eternal pact between the people and the forest that keeps the gods imprisoned. Some day, the Temple priestesses declare, the Wolf will relent and let the Five Kings free, but why should Red be any different than the other Daughters who have gone before? She cannot even bring herself to be angry anymore about her fate, though Neve has more than enough anger for them both: anger at their cold and distant mother, anger at the Temple and the old gods, anger at the Wilderwood, and anger at the Wolf and his demand for sacrifices.
What Red finds in the Wilderwood beneath the boughs of the white sentinel trees is not at all what she imagined. The Wolf is no evil beast, but a man who, like her, has been bound by bargains and magicks over which he has no control. Worse, the Wilderwood has sickened, sentinel trees disappearing into gaps through which monsters emerge, and he's running out of strength to hold the prison gates closed. As much as Red yearns to escape and return to her sister, she cannot ignore the dangers that would befall everyone and everything she ever loved should the Wolf and the Wilderwood fall. But there are those who would stop at nothing to release the five lost Kings of old - and there are those too blinded by anger and love to realize what they're about to destroy...

REVIEW: I had high hopes going into this one, for all that there are obviously some familiar tropes at play. For the most part, I enjoyed it, though it never quite rose to the level of my highest expectations.
From the beginning, the dynamics of the characters and the world are well established. Neve keeps trying to convince Red that she can escape her obligations, that she can run away, and even has some friends and allies on board with the plan, but Red remains dedicated... not out of a sense of duty to her kingdom or her royal mother (both of which have always treated her as a disposable object, keeping her at arm's length) or out of piety to the Temple (neither she nor Neve really believe the priestesses who promise that, someday, the sacrifice of the Second Daughter will free the Five Kings), but because of a darker secret, one that she fears will destroy the few people she truly does love if she were to remain in Valleyda. Even then, given the chance to fight and live or lie down and die in the Wilderwood, she chooses life - and learns that almost everything she has been taught about the place, and about the Wolf, is dead wrong. As she comes to terms with her new circumstances and the new dangers around her, Neve remains desperate to rescue her sister... and here things started to shake a bit for me. The princess allies herself with a fanatical priestess seeking to subvert the traditional Temple teachings in favor of a more pro-active approach to ending the Wolf's reign and freeing the Kings, a woman who is so clearly evil that even blind sisterly devotion can't possibly be enough to mask the insanity.
With no way to communicate, the sisters end up working at cross purposes, with the fate of the Wilderwood and the greater realm hanging in the balance. Despite some occasional meandering and muddy bits, plus a little too much brooding and angst (particularly on the part of the Wolf himself, teetering on the trope/cliché line a little too often), a reasonably satisfying ending is partially marred by cliffhanger elements without being a straight-up cliffhanger, setting up the second volume in the duology... one I'm not sure I'll pursue, if I'm being honest, because it showed every sign of repeating some of the stuff that started to wear on me in this book, particularly the tormented, brooding, angst-ridden soul being redeemed by the power of love. (I will say, in its favor, that For the Wolf had a rather pointed subtext about consent and listening to women; this would've been a novella had people - even those who were closest to her and loved her best - actually listened to Red and respected her choices rather than barging ahead, convinced they knew better than she did what she really needed...)

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Kindling (Traci Chee)

Kindling
Traci Chee
Clarion
Fiction, YA Action/Fantasy
***+ (Okay/Good)

DESCRIPTION: When nation fought nation on the Kindar peninsula, kindlers were the ultimate weapon: boys and girls with special gifts focused by balar crystals, unleashing powers to protect or destroy... but at a steep cost. For to use their magic, kindlers burned up their futures, days or months or years, few surviving past their teens. Thus, they were found and trained young, sacrificed as heroes in the name of glory - until the arrival of gunpowder and hand cannons rendered them obsolete almost overnight, followed by the end of the war with Amerand's victory. The long tradition of kindler warriors was outlawed as "barbaric", and those left alive were cast aside to wander in a world that no longer wanted or needed them.
In a small backwater near the mountains, a desperate young woman seeks help. Her village of Camas has been plagued by a pack of bandits who raid the mountain passes and keep her people on the very knife-edge of starvation with their raids and demands for tribute, to the point where they may not survive the coming winter on the scraps left behind. All ignore her pleas... all except for a handful of kindlers, all of whom have fallen on their own hard times, carrying their own scars. Can they remember and honor their old war codes to defend the helpless, or is the old age of heroes and magic truly gone from the land?

REVIEW: Kindling crosses the brutal reality of child soldiers with the familiar storyline exemplified by classics such as The Magnificent Seven, where a small band of antiheroes is gathered for one last shot at redemption (a shot where not everyone is guaranteed survival, let alone success), all told in a second-person present tense perspective (that's actually a first-person plural, from a sort of collective ghostly or spiritual host that focuses on each would-be hero in turn). Does it work? In general, yes, though at some point it started wallowing in its own trauma, gore, and helpless misery (not helped by rotating audiobook narrators who sometimes lean a little hard into the emotion and gulping, traumatic hesitations) to the point where it ultimately lost a half-star in the rating.
After a brief overview of the setup and setting, the tale opens with the classic trope of a stranger drifting into town and a young woman in distress (even though the latter's pleas are initially dismissed by the former, who doesn't want to get caught up in other people's problems when her own shoulders are nearly broken under the weight of her own troubles as it is). Not until a second stranger turns up - this one a former war hero of formidable skill - that the first character gets pulled into the plot/problem, drawn as much by the magnetism and authority embodied in the legendary "Twin Valley Reaper" as stubborn loyalty to the old kindler Codes of war that nobody, not even fellow kindlers, seems to remember, let alone honor; the leader of the mountain raider band is herself a former kindler, choosing to use her training to harass and kill innocent civilians rather than defend them. Of the seven would-be heroes, six of them cope with post-traumatic stress in various unhealthy ways, while the seventh is a cadet who was mere weeks from graduating and following her dream of becoming a true kindler on the battlefield when peace was declared and wrecked her future; this lattermost character was rather over-the-top in her childish innocence and eagerness to join her elders (in experience if not quite years; all of the characters are under 20, though war aged them all decades and kindlers were never expected to live to see their twentieth birthday anyway), actively envying their clearly broken lives and restless nights full of nightmares and completely ignorant why they'd resist finishing her training and letting her join them in slaughter even after she finally bloodies her blade and realizes (or seems to, for about half a minute) that death leaves a mark on the soul. (Why are they holding out on the big "secret" that binds them all like kin, she whines to them more than once, even as she sees them struggling...) All of them are looking to redeem themselves or prove something, to the ghosts of their past if nobody else, by joining the cause to defend Camas... and all fail themselves and their fellows more than once before finally coming together to show the village, the raiders, and the world that tried to erase them just what kindlers could do when united in common cause against evil.
You may notice a lack of names in this review; this was an audiobook I listened to, so I didn't catch spellings, and I'm having one heck of a time finding any but a couple names written down anywhere. They are distinct characters, and are generally interesting if not always likeable, save when they're repetitiously wallowing in their own miseries and clinging stubbornly to ideas and attitudes that not only aren't working but which might get other people killed. I was ready to smack each of them upside the head at least once, particularly when some terrible thing was happening or mere moments away from happening and they were lost in bad memories or doom-and-gloom observations instead of, y'know, actually doing something - even the wrong thing, just something - about the terrible thing. I get that this was part of the point, exemplified by how the power of kindling is quite literally about children being burned on the pyre of war for the sake of nations and leaders who not only consider their lives disposable, but who ignore and erase them as soon as it becomes politically convenient. Even given that, though, Kindling feels like it hammers those ideas, and the traumas of its characters, past the point of effectiveness, the end of the nail coming out the far side and catching up the story from telling itself.

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Resurrection (Derek Landy)

Resurrection
The Skulduggery Pleasant series, Book 10
Derek Landy
HarperCollins
Fiction, YA Adventure/Fantasy/Horror/Humor/Mystery
**** (Good)

DESCRIPTION: Five years ago, the impossibly powerful sorceress Darquesse devastated the magical city of Roarhaven before ascending to near-godhood and leaving this dimension behind... and Valkyrie Cain, who was once part of Darquesse, was left a shell of her former self. She still has magic, but of a wild and erratic sort never before seen by Sanctuary scholars, a magic she herself barely understands and controls. Not that she really wants to control magic anymore. She spent five years hiding out in rural America until assassins tracked her down, drawing her back to Ireland and the company of her one-time partner, Skulduggery Pleasant. A shadow organization known as the Anti-Sanctuary has been working for centuries to trigger war with the mortals; now, they're seemingly on the verge of success, potentially resurrecting a powerful new leader from the days of the war against Mevolent. The world needs saving again, and when the world needs saving Skulduggery and Valkyrie are expected to step up to the task - but can the traumatized young woman remember how to be a hero in time to stop disaster?

REVIEW: Apparently, the series originally ended after the previous installment, but Landy realized he had more stories to tell. However, even though Valkyrie has aged out of the Young Adult protagonist category, this book still pitches itself as being in that category, justified by the introduction of a "next generation" would-be hero: fourteen-year-old Omen Darkly, the overlooked brother of a prophesied "Chosen One", attending Roarhaven's first boarding school for young sorcerers, Corrival, in a not-so-subtle jab at a certain famous wizard-based series. This gives Resurrection a slight split personality, as on the one hand it wants to continue growing up and growing darker with Valkyrie as she struggles with PTSD and her wild magic, while on the other it's trying to be a light reset/reboot with younger characters who can't help but be bowled over by Skulduggery's sheer force of personality and the weight of series history. The two more or less work together, but at times can't help conflicting, and this (plus a matter of one subplot and bad timing) help explain the slight drop in the rating.
In the beginning, Valkyrie has returned to Ireland and her late uncle's estate, along with the dog Xena, but is still far from recovered, and far from eager to jump back in the world-saving game. She has trouble even visiting her family after six months in the country, still guilty over what she had to do to her kid sister Alice in order to secure the scepter of the ancients and still traumatized by the danger she put them all in. She also can't exactly stroll down the streets of Roarhaven without being the object of stares and hatred, as many still blame her for Darquesse's rampage (though there are a few who still worship the ascended sorceress - almost one subplot too many, here, as very little ultimately comes of that in this volume). Roarhaven itself is not the town it used to be, as China Sorrows has used her new power and influence to amass even more power and influence, even granting legitimacy to a "reformed" Church of the Faceless Ones and diminishing the role of the council and others who might stand in her way. Skulduggery, now an independent Arbiter working with Sanctuaries worldwide, could very much use his partner and friend Valkyrie Cain again as he seeks a missing undercover agent who tried to infiltrate the Anti-Sanctuary, but the Valkyrie he needs is not the one he has, and she may never be that person again... though that doesn't mean she's entirely helpless, even as she grapples with her traumas and growing list of enemies.
Necessity makes them reach out for more allies beyond China's reach, which leads them to Corrival and Omen. The boy used to try to live up to the example set by his brother Auger (a Harry Potter-like savior, if one who grew up in the magical community knowing full well that he was intended to be the hero, whose extracurricular exploits are glimpsed and hinted at but not explored in depth), but eventually gave up trying when even his own parents dismiss him as the "also-ran". Being contacted by no less a celebrity than Skulduggery Pleasant gives him hope that maybe, just maybe, he can be someone, maybe he can have his own adventures and be his own person, giving him the courage to step up and try even when the skeleton detective himself tells him he can go back to his safe and unseen existence. He is not a second Valkyrie, being his own character, though he's so much tied into the clearly-riffing-on-Harry-Potter Augur that he sometimes feels slightly out of step with the greater series universe.
Meanwhile, the Anti-Sanctuary mages progress their dark plot, which involves the literal resurrection of a former powerful mage - helped by a sorcerer with the power to turn anyone they touch into a temporary psychopath under his control, which leads to some serious complications and dark moments when he gets his hands on Skulduggery Pleasant (another development that forces Valkyrie to stand up and resume her reluctant heroine mantle, as her friend and partner becomes an enemy). As is typical for the series, the action just keeps coming, interspersed with some sharp dialog and humor and some dark twists. I just couldn't help wondering throughout what the series would've become had it been allowed to shake off the last ties to its young adult category.
One of the subplots, as mentioned, also helped contribute to the drop in the rating. It involves a mortal American president who was clearly inspired by the one currently occupying the nation's highest office (whose first regime coincided with its writing and release), using clandestine sorcerous connections to gain power and turn the nation into his own personal evil empire. The fact that the same occupant has returned, with more power than ever, destroying institutions and ideals that used to actually mean something to the very people gleefully and gloatingly kicking them down... As I mentioned before, timing made it very hard for me to even listen to a fictitious version of said occupant, facing the very real and not-fictional long-term damage and terror unleashed... I want to continue the series at some point, but now, today of all days, as a major portion of that cruelty is codified into law and literal actual not-in-an-Onion-satire-article merchandising is being sold glorifying a concentration camp on American soil... I just can't. (And if this is too topical and political for a book review, well, I'm livin' this nightmare and it's my blog, and I don't experience literature in a vacuum so my reality can't help bleeding into my reading.)

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