Straight
Chuck Tingle
Chuck Tingle, publisher
Fiction, Horror/Sci-Fi
**** (Good)
DESCRIPTION: It started three years ago, when Earth first encountered a tear in the cosmos. For nearly twenty-four hours, a large segment of the population turned into homicidal maniacs, nearly unstoppable, only to completely forget everything they'd done afterward. It didn't take long to figure out the common factor: the monsters were straight cisgendered heterosexuals, and their targets were anyone who deviated even slightly from strict sex and gender norms. Parents and children and loved ones even turned on those closest to them, mindless as zombies and far more gruesome. Last year, as Earth's orbit passed through the tear again, a vaccine helped reduce the carnage. This year, most everyone predicts things will be even better; after all, now people know to expect "Saturation Day" and take precautions, and as scientists learn more about the phenomenon, surely it's only a matter of time until the threat is neutralized entirely. In the meantime, if people just hide away or lock themselves up, that should reduce the destruction and body count. This Saturation Day, rather than shell out the exorbitant fees for a walled-off compound like Palm Springs or lock themselves in basements or attics, four friends on the rainbow spectrum - bisexual Issac, homosexual Jason, trans Nora, and lesbian Hazel - decide to head out to the California desert and a remote rental cabin, far away from any presumed would-be zombielike killers... and also far, far away from help when their isolated retreat becomes a death trap.
REVIEW: It's hardly a secret in late 2025 that a rabid anti-LGBTQIA+ agenda has rampaged through decades of fragile gains in equality, education, and understanding, sparks of ignorance and fear and hatred deliberately fanned into political wildfires that threaten far, far more than the ostensible target populations. This novella crystallizes the rabid, mindless violence behind that agenda that lies just barely beneath the surface of everyday civility, how marginalized voices crying out for help and justice are too often dismissed, how the collateral damage of inherently hostile cultural and legal norms is brushed aside as acceptable sacrifices, and how allies cannot always be relied upon when knives are out and blood is drawn. Even when Saturation Day brings the horrors out of the shadows and forces the majority to confront the fear and violence that non-straight, non-majority populations endure every second of every waking day, the blood literally glistening on the hands of straight perpetrators, it's too often treated as a minor inconvenience, something to be brushed aside and downplayed or a thing that someone else will surely fix soon, so in the meantime it just has to be tolerated. Tingle also addresses the internal schisms that fracture what should be a united front against the horrors perpetuated against them, as some within the community question whether bisexuals or transgenders or others "count" or should be ostracized to their own ends of the rainbow to fend for themselves.
From the very beginning, the sense of impending doom and madness is quickly established; as Isaac is packing up to flee the city, he encounters an elderly neighbor, a normally nice and liberal-minded woman on her way to be locked up by her son; she's too old for the vaccine, she explains, though she surely means him no harm... until she offers him a fresh-baked cookie with a "surprise" inside. (Signs of mental instability in the affected show up several hours before Earth enters the rift itself.) This establishes the paranoia inherent in the tale, where nobody can be considered safe - not even those who got the shot (which doesn't work on everyone) or are ordinarily more accepting in daily life. Isaac and his friends think they've found a way to outsmart Saturation Day - avoid people, avoid problems - but underestimate just how many people can be in a seemingly uninhabited desert, and just how determined the affected are to find and eliminate target populations. The metaphor's as sharp and obvious as a bloody pitchfork to the neck, though even in the midst of the carnage Isaac tries to resist and deny his own rage at his helplessness and the ineffectiveness of those who insist they'll help the foursome escape. Tingle does an excellent job evoking the terror, tension, and jump-scares of a horror movie, along with some truly gory and gruesome moments. The ending stumbles a bit, but the points it makes shine clearly.
You Might Also Enjoy:
Feed (Mira Grant) - My Review
The City We Became (N. K. Jemisin) - My Review
Camp Damascus (Chuck Tingle) - My Review
Friday, October 10, 2025
Thursday, October 9, 2025
The Goblin Emperor (Katherine Addison)
The Goblin Emperor
The Chronicles of Osreth series, Book 1
Katherine Addison
Tor
Fiction, Fantasy
***+ (Okay/Good)
DESCRIPTION: Maia Drahzar is woken one morning to learn that he has become the elven emperor. He never, in all his 18 years, expected to inherit the crown; for one thing, he's been the least favorite royal offspring of Varenechibel IV since he was born to his goblin mother out of a political marriage and showed too clearly the dark skin of her people, and for another he's spent most of his life in exile on a remote estate to keep him out of the way, without even a royal tutor to instruct him in the ways of court and leadership. But an airship accident claimed his father and all three of his pureblood elven sons, leaving Maia the next in line. From before he sets foot in the palace at Cetho, he has enemies hoping to end his reign before it begins. Even he isn't sure he can fill the role thrust upon him, utterly ignorant of the generations-long alliances and rivalries that fill the vast halls of his new home. But Maia has no choice but to try... and if he can't be the same cold-blooded emperor that his late father was, maybe he can learn a better way to rule.
REVIEW: I'd heard about this story now and again, but not until I was intrigued by the premise of a spinoff series did I decide to give it a try. Set in a world of elves and goblins and steeped in rich cultures and history that stretches far beyond the pages, The Goblin Emperor offers a slightly different angle on high fantasy, centered on one shy, reluctant young man thrust into a role he was (intentionally) not prepared to take and having to learn on the fly what takes most leaders their whole lives to master. This can be a strength, as the tighter focus and limited setting allow the reader to more fully experience Maia's trial-by-fire immersion into palace politics and scheming. It can also be a drawback, as Addison has to spend a fair bit of page time relating the histories and tangled relationships of various key ruling houses, the political stances of various provinces, the roles of innumerable committees and personages and other functionaries, and the deep history of the grounds themselves, among other things - almost all of which has its own long elven name and title and special connotation that the reader must become familiar with to make sense of the unfolding plot.
From the start, Maia is a young man with no true friends, let alone allies, deliberately cast aside by a father who never thought a halfblood boy from an unwanted marriage would ever be useful, let alone necessary for his legacy. His elevation to the throne is a shock to himself and his minder, an older man whose anger and resentment at being stuck in the middle of a marsh looking after the least favored princeling leads to a twisted, abusive dynamic. He never wanted to be the emperor, having little but bad memories of his one and only meeting with his father, and finds the obligations of office suffocating, but escape is not an option, especially not when the next in line is a boy who would be putty in the hands of any "regent" appointed to oversee the throne. Thus, the shy, thoughtful, and sensitive boy bearing scars from a lifetime of neglect and bullying must learn to swim quickly in the quicksand he's been cast into... which he does, but not without some stumbles and setbacks. Along the way, he must finally grapple with some traumas of his childhood and the people who caused them, and determine what sort of leader he means to be. Just being half-goblin among elves who often think of goblins as barbaric cannibals (for all that halfbloods are far from rare) is enough of a challenge, without adding in his utter lack of connections among the courtiers and officials who make the machinery of the empire work (or fail to work). Even the first letter from the lord chancellor in Cetho - the letter informing him of his elevation in status and summoning him "home" for the funeral - contains traps that Maia is too naïve to recognize until they're pointed out; navigating them becomes the first test of his nascent reign. It would, he learns quickly, be quite easy to become a vengeful tyrant given his life until now and the opposition he faces from the start, but he deliberately picks an imperial name that will remind him to seek more peaceful means rather than following in Varenechibel IV's heavy footsteps. His efforts to stay true to the parts of himself that he most cherishes while growing into his robes makes for interesting reading (or listening, as this was an audiobook version)... for the most part.
What weighs the tale down is the very intricacy that gives The Goblin Emperor its depth. Addison slings innumerable names, titles, locations, and concepts at the reader, and while for the most part one can (as in many epic fantasies) sit back and let them wash past as the generalities fall into place, it can get quite confusing when particulars become plot relevant. This may have been easier for me to sort out on a printed page, as names that sound so similar when spoken may have had a distinct enough look to help me sort them better in my head. As it was, I'd be lying if I could keep even half of everyone straight, meaning there were several times when I just felt lost and was letting words go by until I could regain my bearings.
The drawbacks were just barely enough to shave a half-star off the rating, in the end. I enjoyed it more than I didn't, and could appreciate the portrait of a young man learning how to rule and make his mark in defiance of those who would dismiss or destroy him. (And, as I originally tried this to see if I'd enjoy that spinoff series, I will say it successfully convinced me to give those a try; I'm hoping it will be like my experience reading Leigh Bardugo's Six of Crows and being blown away after having a mixed reaction to Shadow and Bone, though I definitely liked The Goblin Emperor more than the first Grishaverse novel.)
You Might Also Enjoy:
The Long Price Quartet (Daniel Abraham) - My Review
The Grace of Kings (Ken Liu) - My Review
Shadowmarch (Tad Williams) - My Review
The Chronicles of Osreth series, Book 1
Katherine Addison
Tor
Fiction, Fantasy
***+ (Okay/Good)
DESCRIPTION: Maia Drahzar is woken one morning to learn that he has become the elven emperor. He never, in all his 18 years, expected to inherit the crown; for one thing, he's been the least favorite royal offspring of Varenechibel IV since he was born to his goblin mother out of a political marriage and showed too clearly the dark skin of her people, and for another he's spent most of his life in exile on a remote estate to keep him out of the way, without even a royal tutor to instruct him in the ways of court and leadership. But an airship accident claimed his father and all three of his pureblood elven sons, leaving Maia the next in line. From before he sets foot in the palace at Cetho, he has enemies hoping to end his reign before it begins. Even he isn't sure he can fill the role thrust upon him, utterly ignorant of the generations-long alliances and rivalries that fill the vast halls of his new home. But Maia has no choice but to try... and if he can't be the same cold-blooded emperor that his late father was, maybe he can learn a better way to rule.
REVIEW: I'd heard about this story now and again, but not until I was intrigued by the premise of a spinoff series did I decide to give it a try. Set in a world of elves and goblins and steeped in rich cultures and history that stretches far beyond the pages, The Goblin Emperor offers a slightly different angle on high fantasy, centered on one shy, reluctant young man thrust into a role he was (intentionally) not prepared to take and having to learn on the fly what takes most leaders their whole lives to master. This can be a strength, as the tighter focus and limited setting allow the reader to more fully experience Maia's trial-by-fire immersion into palace politics and scheming. It can also be a drawback, as Addison has to spend a fair bit of page time relating the histories and tangled relationships of various key ruling houses, the political stances of various provinces, the roles of innumerable committees and personages and other functionaries, and the deep history of the grounds themselves, among other things - almost all of which has its own long elven name and title and special connotation that the reader must become familiar with to make sense of the unfolding plot.
From the start, Maia is a young man with no true friends, let alone allies, deliberately cast aside by a father who never thought a halfblood boy from an unwanted marriage would ever be useful, let alone necessary for his legacy. His elevation to the throne is a shock to himself and his minder, an older man whose anger and resentment at being stuck in the middle of a marsh looking after the least favored princeling leads to a twisted, abusive dynamic. He never wanted to be the emperor, having little but bad memories of his one and only meeting with his father, and finds the obligations of office suffocating, but escape is not an option, especially not when the next in line is a boy who would be putty in the hands of any "regent" appointed to oversee the throne. Thus, the shy, thoughtful, and sensitive boy bearing scars from a lifetime of neglect and bullying must learn to swim quickly in the quicksand he's been cast into... which he does, but not without some stumbles and setbacks. Along the way, he must finally grapple with some traumas of his childhood and the people who caused them, and determine what sort of leader he means to be. Just being half-goblin among elves who often think of goblins as barbaric cannibals (for all that halfbloods are far from rare) is enough of a challenge, without adding in his utter lack of connections among the courtiers and officials who make the machinery of the empire work (or fail to work). Even the first letter from the lord chancellor in Cetho - the letter informing him of his elevation in status and summoning him "home" for the funeral - contains traps that Maia is too naïve to recognize until they're pointed out; navigating them becomes the first test of his nascent reign. It would, he learns quickly, be quite easy to become a vengeful tyrant given his life until now and the opposition he faces from the start, but he deliberately picks an imperial name that will remind him to seek more peaceful means rather than following in Varenechibel IV's heavy footsteps. His efforts to stay true to the parts of himself that he most cherishes while growing into his robes makes for interesting reading (or listening, as this was an audiobook version)... for the most part.
What weighs the tale down is the very intricacy that gives The Goblin Emperor its depth. Addison slings innumerable names, titles, locations, and concepts at the reader, and while for the most part one can (as in many epic fantasies) sit back and let them wash past as the generalities fall into place, it can get quite confusing when particulars become plot relevant. This may have been easier for me to sort out on a printed page, as names that sound so similar when spoken may have had a distinct enough look to help me sort them better in my head. As it was, I'd be lying if I could keep even half of everyone straight, meaning there were several times when I just felt lost and was letting words go by until I could regain my bearings.
The drawbacks were just barely enough to shave a half-star off the rating, in the end. I enjoyed it more than I didn't, and could appreciate the portrait of a young man learning how to rule and make his mark in defiance of those who would dismiss or destroy him. (And, as I originally tried this to see if I'd enjoy that spinoff series, I will say it successfully convinced me to give those a try; I'm hoping it will be like my experience reading Leigh Bardugo's Six of Crows and being blown away after having a mixed reaction to Shadow and Bone, though I definitely liked The Goblin Emperor more than the first Grishaverse novel.)
You Might Also Enjoy:
The Long Price Quartet (Daniel Abraham) - My Review
The Grace of Kings (Ken Liu) - My Review
Shadowmarch (Tad Williams) - My Review
Wednesday, October 8, 2025
Voyage of the Damned (Frances White)
Voyage of the Damned
Frances White
Mira
Fiction, Fantasy
**+ (Bad/Okay)
DESCRIPTION: For generations, the twelve provinces of Concordia have held a sometimes-fragile peace between them, united by the threat of the outcast Crabs to the south, the powerful Dragon emperor to the north, and the powerful, secret Blessings of each provincial leader. Passing down through bloodlines for generations, each dux's Blessing helps their realm to thrive and keeps potential rivals in check, but the magic comes at the cost of a shortened lifespan. Now, in honor of one thousand years of (relative) peace, the twelve Blessed have been gathered for a voyage to the sacred mountain where the Goddess first passed Her magic to mortals, to renew Concordia's ties and remind everyone of the might of the emperor.
Ganymedes Piscero, Blessed of the lowly Fish Province, would rather be anywhere else... because Ganymedes has no magic. That must have gone to one of the other byblows of his unfaithful father. But Fish Province is already looked down upon enough without having to admit that some unknown bastard child is likely running around with a Goddess's power, so it was agreed that Ganymedes would be presented as the true and Blessed heir. So long as he kept away from the others, who always bullied him anyway for his lowly province and his girth, it was a farce he could put up with. But twelve days trapped aboard a boat, surrounded by real Blessed and all their insufferable arrogance - he'd rather die.
Then the Dragon heiress is found hanging from the chandelier above the banquet table - the first murder on a voyage that will soon be awash in blood, mayhem, and danger. And the only one who can solve the murders and save Concordia may be the only "Blessed" with no Blessing - or allies - to call his own... assuming Ganymedes doesn't end up a victim, too.
REVIEW: I admit it - I was lured in again by a shiny cover, though in my defense the early pages seemed fun, a little snarky and intriguing. It also promised an interesting locked-room murder mystery, isolated on a boat with nearly a dozen magic wielders. But it wasn't long before the snark that lured me in became tiresomely obnoxious, the main character degenerated into a useless "investigator" who seemed uninterested in actually investigating anything, the suspects/victims turned out to have less depth, integrity, and believability than a Scooby Doo villain, and the whole thing just collapsed in on itself into tangled mess.
From the start, the world is on shaky ground with Ganymedes's narration, a voice that sounds too modern and Earthbound to belong in the fantasy world of Concordia; he even shoots "finger guns" at a young couple he's flirting with, in a world where it's never clear that guns actually exist, let alone the casual use of "finger guns" gestures as a mark of interest or approval. He also came across as a teenager, not a man in his twenties, enough that I wondered whether this book was originally intended for a Young Adult audience but had been aged up with the addition of copious cursing, possibly for marketing reasons. Still, I was willing to suspend disbelief for a while, as well as suspending my irritation with his selfish immaturity (partly ameliorated when he sidesteps his selfishness in order to help a bullied child), as it was early in the book and there were some nice, interesting tidbits that promised better things and smoother sailing ahead. But it didn't take long for me to realize that, no, it's rough waters all the way to the horizon. Ganymedes only gets more obnoxious and jerky, and also food-obsessed, because of course the self-loathing jerk in the tale is also overweight for comic relief purposes. He also wastes far too much time, in the book and for the reader, stubbornly refusing to do anything, even when he ostensibly decides to play detective and solve the mystery. What good is an investigator that refuses to investigate? His efforts too often amount to little more than scribbling on a useless "detective board" in his cabin (which even he doesn't take seriously, from the flippant and frivolous notes he pens - it's not like he's in danger himself or anything, to focus his attention - and if the narrator/main character isn't taking multiple murders seriously, why should I as a reader?), and avoiding actually asking useful questions or untangling motives. When he does interact with his fellow Blessed/potential suspects, his abrasive personality and refusal to take anything seriously completely undermines any investigative value before five words have left his mouth. As for his allies, he has the unpromising sidekicks of a sickly teenager and a precocious/pushy six year old girl who turns invisible when stressed (her recently-manifested Blessing, after the previous heir to her province passed) and eats far too much page count not contributing anything except being a cutesy distraction from the murder mystery (but, then Ganymedes was already deliberately not investigating the murders, so she could hardly be blamed for that). Again, her presence really made me wonder if this book had originally been intended for a younger audience, one where six-year-olds running around stuffing their face with candy and being in everyone's face while spouting cutesy non sequiturs wouldn't have clashed so blatantly with the whole grisly-murder vibe it intermittently tried to project.
As mentioned previously, the other Blessed - and the world itself - become too surreally cartoonish and flat to take seriously. The magic-powered ship is so expansive and full of so much handwaved, plot-convenient things (cabins so big and transformed that they might as well not even be on a boat, for instance, and cutesy plush dragon servants who mostly exist to be cutesy and plush and provide a convenient way to explain a lack of serving staff, or even how food is prepared), while the people of each province can be readily identified by colored hair and particular traits that would not be out of place in a half-baked off-brand comic book. Eventually, the author gets around to introducing something like character depth and reasons behind Ganymedes's behavior (far too little too late to make me actually enjoy his company as narrator, but I did appreciate the effort), though the ultimate unmasking and explanation happen less because of his dogged determination to find the truth and more because he fails so utterly that the villain more or less monologues their plot just before the final bits. Another late game twist cut the legs out from under a subplot in a way I won't discuss (to avoid spoilers) but which completely undermined one of the few seemingly genuine bits of conflict and character growth of the ostensible protagonist. The last stretch has Ganymedes forced to actually do something, though by then I was long past caring whether Concordia or any of the characters still living in it survived.
I wanted to enjoy this one. It had potential, and it promised something a little fresh and a little different. Unfortunately, the bits I enjoyed (and there were a handful) were too few and far between.
You Might Also Enjoy:
City of Stairs (Robert Jackson Bennett) - My Review
The Flaw in All Magic (Ben S. Dobson) - My Review
Blue Moon Rising (Simon R. Green) - My Review
Frances White
Mira
Fiction, Fantasy
**+ (Bad/Okay)
DESCRIPTION: For generations, the twelve provinces of Concordia have held a sometimes-fragile peace between them, united by the threat of the outcast Crabs to the south, the powerful Dragon emperor to the north, and the powerful, secret Blessings of each provincial leader. Passing down through bloodlines for generations, each dux's Blessing helps their realm to thrive and keeps potential rivals in check, but the magic comes at the cost of a shortened lifespan. Now, in honor of one thousand years of (relative) peace, the twelve Blessed have been gathered for a voyage to the sacred mountain where the Goddess first passed Her magic to mortals, to renew Concordia's ties and remind everyone of the might of the emperor.
Ganymedes Piscero, Blessed of the lowly Fish Province, would rather be anywhere else... because Ganymedes has no magic. That must have gone to one of the other byblows of his unfaithful father. But Fish Province is already looked down upon enough without having to admit that some unknown bastard child is likely running around with a Goddess's power, so it was agreed that Ganymedes would be presented as the true and Blessed heir. So long as he kept away from the others, who always bullied him anyway for his lowly province and his girth, it was a farce he could put up with. But twelve days trapped aboard a boat, surrounded by real Blessed and all their insufferable arrogance - he'd rather die.
Then the Dragon heiress is found hanging from the chandelier above the banquet table - the first murder on a voyage that will soon be awash in blood, mayhem, and danger. And the only one who can solve the murders and save Concordia may be the only "Blessed" with no Blessing - or allies - to call his own... assuming Ganymedes doesn't end up a victim, too.
REVIEW: I admit it - I was lured in again by a shiny cover, though in my defense the early pages seemed fun, a little snarky and intriguing. It also promised an interesting locked-room murder mystery, isolated on a boat with nearly a dozen magic wielders. But it wasn't long before the snark that lured me in became tiresomely obnoxious, the main character degenerated into a useless "investigator" who seemed uninterested in actually investigating anything, the suspects/victims turned out to have less depth, integrity, and believability than a Scooby Doo villain, and the whole thing just collapsed in on itself into tangled mess.
From the start, the world is on shaky ground with Ganymedes's narration, a voice that sounds too modern and Earthbound to belong in the fantasy world of Concordia; he even shoots "finger guns" at a young couple he's flirting with, in a world where it's never clear that guns actually exist, let alone the casual use of "finger guns" gestures as a mark of interest or approval. He also came across as a teenager, not a man in his twenties, enough that I wondered whether this book was originally intended for a Young Adult audience but had been aged up with the addition of copious cursing, possibly for marketing reasons. Still, I was willing to suspend disbelief for a while, as well as suspending my irritation with his selfish immaturity (partly ameliorated when he sidesteps his selfishness in order to help a bullied child), as it was early in the book and there were some nice, interesting tidbits that promised better things and smoother sailing ahead. But it didn't take long for me to realize that, no, it's rough waters all the way to the horizon. Ganymedes only gets more obnoxious and jerky, and also food-obsessed, because of course the self-loathing jerk in the tale is also overweight for comic relief purposes. He also wastes far too much time, in the book and for the reader, stubbornly refusing to do anything, even when he ostensibly decides to play detective and solve the mystery. What good is an investigator that refuses to investigate? His efforts too often amount to little more than scribbling on a useless "detective board" in his cabin (which even he doesn't take seriously, from the flippant and frivolous notes he pens - it's not like he's in danger himself or anything, to focus his attention - and if the narrator/main character isn't taking multiple murders seriously, why should I as a reader?), and avoiding actually asking useful questions or untangling motives. When he does interact with his fellow Blessed/potential suspects, his abrasive personality and refusal to take anything seriously completely undermines any investigative value before five words have left his mouth. As for his allies, he has the unpromising sidekicks of a sickly teenager and a precocious/pushy six year old girl who turns invisible when stressed (her recently-manifested Blessing, after the previous heir to her province passed) and eats far too much page count not contributing anything except being a cutesy distraction from the murder mystery (but, then Ganymedes was already deliberately not investigating the murders, so she could hardly be blamed for that). Again, her presence really made me wonder if this book had originally been intended for a younger audience, one where six-year-olds running around stuffing their face with candy and being in everyone's face while spouting cutesy non sequiturs wouldn't have clashed so blatantly with the whole grisly-murder vibe it intermittently tried to project.
As mentioned previously, the other Blessed - and the world itself - become too surreally cartoonish and flat to take seriously. The magic-powered ship is so expansive and full of so much handwaved, plot-convenient things (cabins so big and transformed that they might as well not even be on a boat, for instance, and cutesy plush dragon servants who mostly exist to be cutesy and plush and provide a convenient way to explain a lack of serving staff, or even how food is prepared), while the people of each province can be readily identified by colored hair and particular traits that would not be out of place in a half-baked off-brand comic book. Eventually, the author gets around to introducing something like character depth and reasons behind Ganymedes's behavior (far too little too late to make me actually enjoy his company as narrator, but I did appreciate the effort), though the ultimate unmasking and explanation happen less because of his dogged determination to find the truth and more because he fails so utterly that the villain more or less monologues their plot just before the final bits. Another late game twist cut the legs out from under a subplot in a way I won't discuss (to avoid spoilers) but which completely undermined one of the few seemingly genuine bits of conflict and character growth of the ostensible protagonist. The last stretch has Ganymedes forced to actually do something, though by then I was long past caring whether Concordia or any of the characters still living in it survived.
I wanted to enjoy this one. It had potential, and it promised something a little fresh and a little different. Unfortunately, the bits I enjoyed (and there were a handful) were too few and far between.
You Might Also Enjoy:
City of Stairs (Robert Jackson Bennett) - My Review
The Flaw in All Magic (Ben S. Dobson) - My Review
Blue Moon Rising (Simon R. Green) - My Review
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