There’s something about urban fantasy. While scifi looks to the future and high fantasy escapes to a different realm, urban fantasy finds enchantment There’s something about urban fantasy. While scifi looks to the future and high fantasy escapes to a different realm, urban fantasy finds enchantment in the everyday and transforms it into pure magic. And Flex takes it to a new level. In the world that Steinmetz creates, magic is born of single-minded passion:
“‘Mancers believed so thoroughly in their obsessions that their belief wore a hole through the law of physics.”
As a result, there are gamemancers. Musclemancers. Illustromancers. Collectomancers. Huntomancers. Junkomancers. As one of the characters points out, somewhere out in the world, there are probably even polkamancers. But as harmless as all those reclusive cat-hair-covered felismancers might seem, they’re explosions just waiting for the match. ‘Mancers have the ability to “flex” reality, but reality can only be bent so far before it bends back. And when the “flux”--the reaction to flexing reality too far-- hits, disaster inevitably follows. After Europe melted down in an apocalyptic breach in the folds of reality, America cracked down on its ‘mancers, capturing them and forcing them to join their creepy troop of brain-burned Unimancers.
Now that he’s left the police for the Samaritan insurance company, Paul Tsabo spends his days doing paperwork. Since insurance doesn’t usually cover magic-related injuries, much of his work involves linking disasters to ‘mancers or to sales of the ‘mancy-made drug Flex. But even paperwork has its perils: Paul’s obsession with his holy grail, the “Universal Unified Form,” has turned him into a bureaucromancer. His magic allows him to rearrange schedules, magic cars out of rental agreements, and find almost anyone--as long as he has an identifier to start with. He even has magic desk drawers: one gives him access to every type of form; the other, once he submits the right documentation, allows him to access any paperwork, no matter how secret.
Paul himself, “the guy who turned DMV into an art,” is a likeable character, a nerd who wants to be a superhero without the spandex. He’s adorably uptight and usually doesn’t even realize it:
“Not that Paul ever dressed down. He liked suits. And crisp ties. They were armor for the civilized man. At best, he’d roll up his sleeves, and that only because it looked totally badass.”
At the same time, Paul is complex and flawed; as one of his friends tells him, he tends to think up “good reasons to justify the things you want to do anyway.”(view spoiler)[I still think his motivation for brewing up Flex was weak, especially in bringing the Flex to Gunza.At what point did making Flex for drug lords seem like a good idea? Honestly, I think that mostly served to push the plot into adrenaline moments. But I loved the way Steinmetz explored the other side of those scenes:
“He thought he’d been calling in faceless SMASH soldiers to distract Gunza. ut now, he realized, he’d called in brain-burned victims to be slaughtered for his convenience.”
One of my favourite Paul moments was when he started yelling at the Broach and the buzzsects, and his bullheaded beliefs warp reality yet again.
“You,” Paul said to the buzzsects, “are not aerodynamic.” They dropped from the air, twitching helplessness.
(hide spoiler)] Paul’s belief in a predictable, organized, reasonable world is so strong that it is enough to bend reality. What could be more deliciously ironic than that?(view spoiler)[I loved the denouement; the evolution of mancy is a perfect ending:
“The magic he loved was no violation of the natural order- it was the natural order’s way of evolving. The ‘mancy wasn’t a flaw in the contract but a hidden clause for bargaining. [...] ‘Mancy isn’t a bad thing; it’s the proof that if you care enough about things, the world listens”
This is one of those books that just hit me perfectly, and it’s really hard to explain precisely why. I loved the idea of ‘mancy, even though the apostrophe drove me nuts. One of the most interesting parts of magical systems is the cost, and in this case, the consequences of magic are fully explored. The world was a little like a cross between Myke Cole and Kate Griffin; I know that’s a rather bizarre mix, but then so is the book. There are a lot of action-packed moments, many of them involving gamemancy. As a non-gamer, most of the references flew right by me, but I loved that part where they pull out a Portal gun. (The cake is a lie.)
But the book isn’t just about drug-filled magical escapades; it’s also about Paul’s struggles to balance being a mancer and a father:
“That was the stupid thing about parenting: the mundane stuff took up so much of your life, you forgot all this pointed towards the future. You spent your days strapping your kids into backseats, reading them bedtime stories, making them bowls of cereal. That’s what you did as a parent: create routines to make the world seem safer. If you weren’t paying attention, you’d forget the tasks were not the job.”
It’s also about dealing with pain and loss. It’s about the struggle to not be defined by a disability or deformity, to be a person rather than a victim.(view spoiler)[As Aliyah says,
“All they ever talk about is my burns. I’m not a burn.”
I delayed writing this review for a couple of weeks because I just can’t really explain why I enjoyed the book so much. I loved the idea of bureaucromancy, the burgeoning relationship between Paul and the other main character, the humor and the absurdity. I can't wait to find out more about the world. It’s not a perfect fit for everyone, and I’d have a hard time figuring out the right audience, but for those it fits, Flex is pure magic. Make that pure ‘mancy.
I received an advanced reader copy ebook through Netgalley from the publisher, Angry Robot Books, in exchange for my honest review. Thank you! While the included quotes may not reflect the final phrasing, I believe they speak to the nature of the novel as a whole.
Note: Although there should be no spoilers for this book, it is #3 in a series, so there will be unavoidable spoilers for the previous books, which I Note: Although there should be no spoilers for this book, it is #3 in a series, so there will be unavoidable spoilers for the previous books, which I reviewed here and here.
When thousands of soldiers in America’s SOC (Supernatural Operations Corps) suddenly appeared on the lawn outside of the White House, the American public discovered three things: first, there is an alternate world called the Source that that is teeming with magical creatures; second, the American government had invaded it and set up a military base; third, many of the military’s employees at the base were Probes; that is, members of magical schools prohibited by U.S. law.
The indigenous inhabitants would have massacred the human invaders if Jan Thorssen, codename Harlequin, hadn’t disobeyed orders from the President himself and saved the base. Americans have just discovered the existence of an alternate world that is home to whole civilizations of magical creatures. Now, led by an escaped Probe witch, an army of magical creatures has decided to turn the tables and visit NYC, and they’re not going to stop with postcards. Thorssen suddenly finds himself in charge of defending a rapidly devolving city from an invasion force of sorcerers, goblins, demons, and every other magical creature that can scuttle out of the Source.
If you’ve read the other books in the series, you’ve probably spent a good portion of time wanting to throttle Harlequin. This book attempts to humanize him, and that’s not exactly an easy task. Other than being a jerk whenever possible, Harlequin has acted as Britton’s foil, law-abiding, obsessive, angry cop who goes out of his way to punish anyone who breaks the arbitrary rules of society. This book explores how an idealistic Jan Thorssen was transformed into the vengeful Harlequin. It becomes clear that Harlequin is suffering from compassion fatigue, and this drives him to separate the world into wolves, sheep, and sheepdogs. The only thing that separates the wolves from the sheepdogs, Harlequin believes, is the law, and no matter how broken the law might be, his is not to reason why. And some of his other experiences, detailed as flashbacks throughout the story, explain why he now has a whole Ikea shelving system’s worth of screws loose. Even so, I’m never going to find Harlequin a sympathetic character, no matter how hard Cole tries. All the same, I enjoyed his ironic commentary on the situation:
“Lighten up,” Harlequin said. “We’re leading a mixed force of police and military, who have almost no experience fighting together and who lack the power to harm half the enemy. We’re outnumbered and outgunned. [...] Our goal is to secure a rent in the fabric of reality that we have no idea how to close. What could possibly go wrong?”
Another exciting change is that Oscar Britton, a.k.a. “the pompous dick,” is no longer a perspective character. In fact, Cole seems to have picked up on his readers’ universal detestation and rechristened him “Oscar Fucking Britton”-- unless that was actually his middle name all along, of course. Even better news, Bookbinder is back, and as terrifyingly optimistic as ever:
“We’ve got a problem,” Rodriguez said. “Another problem,” Bonhomme added. “Let’s call it a challenge,” Bookbinder said.
Through Thorssen’s flashbacks, we even get Scylla’s backstory. Given her previous actions and the fact that she’s leading the invasion in this book, I was rather incredulous at this attempt to humanize her. Awkwardly enough, however, I found myself mostly on her side, even if I didn’t approve of her methods. She has two demands: first, that the US treat the Source as an inhabited land with its own indigenous culture, and second, that the Latents be treated as citizens. After seeing America’s proud history of breaking promises to indigenous peoples, I can understand why the goblins would think that extermination was the only way.
As with the rest of the series, much of the book is an exploration of the “freedom versus safety” paradox. I admit to a certain amount of evil pleasure in finally seeing the SOC reap what they sowed, and I appreciate the ways in which Cole presented the (human) invaders’ perspectives:
“They see you for what you are, and they know you will never stop until you control every action of everyone and everything that frightens you. They want the same thing I do. To be able to go to bed at night and never have to wake up worrying that you’re out there, plotting to put us in chains again. We can’t get that by negotiating with you. We can only get that by teaching you what those chains feel like.”
I love the ways that the SOC tactics echo reality. For example, the SOC’s replacement of Big Bear is not dissimilar to the FBI infiltration of the Panthers. I’m still deeply disturbed by the way the government enslaves the “legally dead” Selfers. I have a terrible suspicion that this “repurposing” of legally dead citizens is not just a fantasy.
While I was delighted that the US’s brazen colonialism finally backfires, I was disappointed in the portrayal of the creatures from the Source. The goblins are divided with a depressing simplicity into “good” (i.e. subservient to humans) goblins and the “bad” (i.e. defensive) goblins. The Gahe are apparently inherently nasty, as are all the other invaders. Cole spends a tremendous amount of time thoughtfully deconstructing the complexities of the human conflict. It’s a pity he spent so little time extending this to the other creatures of the Source. Even the issue of imperialism is mostly pushed aside in favour of Latent/normal politics. Sadly, somewhere in the novel, right versus wrong devolves into xenophobia, with the invading Sourcers painted as soulless monsters.
Even though I wish that Cole had done more to--ahem-- humanize his Source characters, I love the perspectives that he provides on the conflict between Latents and non-Latents. In this book, the reader is finally placed on the side of the U.S. government against an external invader, but even though the Selfer tactics are savage, Cole continues to question the government’s role in driving them to violence. As one character puts it:
“The only Selfer threat is the one you made for yourself. America is a nation choking on its own hypocrisy.”
Cole has experienced war, and his experiences enrich his book. Even when the SOC are defenders in an invasion, nothing is black and white, and nothing is simple. There is no straightforward victory or glorious defeat.
That was the thing about war, wasn’t it? In the end, someone has to be willing to overlook past wrongs, inequalities. In the end, war had to serve peace, to drive forward toward an end state that worked better for everyone. Otherwise, what were they fighting for?
Excerpted from my review on BookLikes, which has additional spoilers, quotes, and commentary that I was too lazy to copy over....more
"Personally, I'd never had any desire to save the world. Decorate it? Yes. Save it? No."
So says MacKayla "Mac" Lane, a blissful **edited 11/28/13
"Personally, I'd never had any desire to save the world. Decorate it? Yes. Save it? No."
So says MacKayla "Mac" Lane, a blissfully blonde, beautiful, buxom bartender Barbie from Georgia. Of course, that was before her sister is murdered, left alone to die in a dingy alley on the other side of the world. Reeling from grief, Mac embarks on an ill-judged journey to Dublin, and her life of cheerful banality utterly disintegrates. Suddenly, the continued availability of Iceberry Pink nail polish is no longer the biggest worry of her world. For when Mac reaches Dublin, she discovers that fairies are real and that she is one of the rare humans who can see through their glamours. With her new vision, the world is a more frightening place: predators suck the life and soul out of unsuspecting humans, terrifyingly beautiful beings attack humans with deadly allure, and a mysteriously knowledgeable man seems to have his own subtle schemes for Mac.
Why? Because I strongly disapprove of GoodReads' new policy of censorship. (The link brings you to a summary of The Story So Far, which has facts and links so you can make up your own mind about the GR débâcle.)
As this is one of the trope-makers for the urban fantasy genre, it was quite interesting to read. Even I found the worldbuilding fasc**edited 12/15/13
As this is one of the trope-makers for the urban fantasy genre, it was quite interesting to read. Even I found the worldbuilding fascinating. However, I did not enjoy it, and, as usual, I'm going to work off my ill humour by enumerating precisely why. With all my complaints, I do not exactly regret reading this. Hamilton's influence is visible throughout almost all of the books in our current urban fantasy genre, from the Dresden Files (Jim Butcher explicitly acknowledges his debt to Hamilton) to Kate Daniels to Rachel Morgan. Due to my failure to sympathise with the protagonist and the story's rather unsettling fascination with rape themes, I was unable to enjoy the book on its own merits. However, if you're a more easygoing reader than me and are interested in seeing the birth of many of the themes that echo throughout UF, take a look.
I've been meaning to read Dead Witch Walking for a while, and when I found it on audio at my library, I snatched thBook Reaction (not a full review)
I've been meaning to read Dead Witch Walking for a while, and when I found it on audio at my library, I snatched the opportunity. I'm glad I did. Harrison has an addictively readable style, and her worldbuilding felt both fun and original. Long story short: after a genetic mutation carried in a tomato managed to exterminate half the world's human population, the supernaturals decided to step out of the closet. Forty years later, the humans tend to avoid the paranormal parts of town and have a paralyzing fear of tomatoes.
I liked Rachel as a narrator, even though I think she's an idiot who managed to dig herself into every problem she found and need her friends' help to extricate herself. She also wins Worst Supernatural Detective Award of the Month. (Seriously, how has she not yet guessed what Trent is?) Her impulsivity definitely propels the plot, and I loved her interactions with Jenks the positively potty pixy.
I have really only one serious issue with the book: the vampire version of slut-shaming. Ivy the vampire keeps misreading Rachel's signals as come-ons, and then Rachel accepts blame as unintentionally acting like a "vampire hussy." Their "compromise" is for Rachel to not get excited during arguments, wear particular perfumes, be careful with her clothes, etc, because clearly it's all Rachel's fault when Ivy loses control. It's the same rationalization as "She's wearing provocative clothing, so she was asking for it." Whatever the arena, I'm really, really tired of victim-blaming.
But for all that, I'm interested to see what Harrison does with her characters, and I adored how many plot arcs that the book set up. There are enough warning signs coming off of Nick to power a lighthouse, and we don't even know what will happen with the demon mark. Last but not least, the narrator, Marguerite Gavin, has a pleasant voice and an animated narrative style. I just put in a request for the next book. ...more
In Kate Daniels' dystopian world of post-Shift Atlanta, waves of magic and technology alternately shut down spellwork and machinery, **edited 01/02/14
In Kate Daniels' dystopian world of post-Shift Atlanta, waves of magic and technology alternately shut down spellwork and machinery, the cultish "People" control the minds of vampires, and tensions between shapeshifters and humans are growing. (Yes, this is a dystopia. My proof: the massive chocolate shortage.) Kate, recently mated to the Beast Lord Curran, is well aware of the dislike that human organisations such as the Merciful Order feel for the weres; in fact, shapeshifter backing might explain why Kate's new business venture as a private investigator has flopped so thoroughly. However, Kate is about to rue the day her boredom was broken. When she receives a call from a vampire navigator that one of his creatures has gone rogue, she soon realises that the sudden loss of magical control is far from an isolated incident. Since things clearly aren't complex enough, Kate finally receives her first case: find a missing inventor and his brand new doomsday device. On the positive side, at least she has a more interesting answer when asked how her day went...
To tell the truth, this is one of the many reviews I've been procrastinating on, in this case, because of an internal war between the irresistible urge to vent my viewpoint versus a bit of shame for being That Person. You know when you go out to see a fun comedy/adventure movie, and you invite your uptight friend along, and they ignore all the pulse-racing action scenes and hilarious one-liners and focus humorlessly on how politically unsound and sexist it was? Worse still, not only do they utterly fail to enjoy it, but on the ride home, they insist upon telling you precisely why? Fair warning--in this review, I'm going to be That Person. (Even more than usual.)
In the Felix Castor books, the gritty, jaded irony of the best of noir/hardboiled meets the precarious uncertainty of a fantastically imaginative apocIn the Felix Castor books, the gritty, jaded irony of the best of noir/hardboiled meets the precarious uncertainty of a fantastically imaginative apocalyptic world. Carey's prose is vivid, compelling, and compulsively readable, and Fix Castor manages to be sympathetic despite his many flaws. The Castor books portray a self-destructive protagonist submerged by his guilt, isolation, and loneliness, struggling to stay afloat in an uneasy sea of moral grays. Carey has a gift for interweaving human conflict and supernatural elements into a seamless whole. In every book, up to this point, the root of the conflict has been man's inhumanity to man. Each book has started with an apparently trivial case which leads Castor deeper and deeper into a poisonous web of conspiracy amongst privileged and powerful. All of the conflicts, in the end, come down to human sins and human actions. In Fix's world, humans are the root of all evil. Until now.
Throughout the series, Fix has been tormented by guilt over his involvement in the fate of Rafi, his old college friend. Several years before, Castor, desperate to rescue Rafi from a botched demon summoning, accidentally bound his friend's soul to the demon Asmodeus. Since that time, Rafi has been half-mad, locked away to prevent the demon who possesses him from wreaking havoc upon the world. In The Naming of Beasts, Asmodeus puts his own plans into action and the plot that has been simmering for the last four books finally explodes into the forefront. For me, this meant that the driving force of the series--the tragedy of human inhumanity--was strangely absent from The Naming of Beasts. Most of the conflict comes from the machinations of the demon Asmodeus, and while Jenna-Jane Mullbridge, the other main antagonist/schemer, is technically human, she is essentially a straightforward symbol of the Evils of Science. While the plot is action-filled and fast-paced, it doesn't really have the corkscrew-twisty whodunit element that I found so compelling in the earlier books.
It also has so many plotholes that I could use it for straining pasta. (view spoiler)[I'm really OCD about mysteries, and...well...here's my list of plotholes:
One of the biggest problems for me was the demon power issue. Books #2 and #4 make it pretty clear that a loose demon--any loose demon--can do a tremendous amount of damage. We've seen that even a small amount of demon essence can drive whole communities into savage fury or suicidal frenzy. So why did Asmo limit himself to running around and tearing a few people apart? Why didn't we see Asmo putting the works on massive groups of people? According to Fix, the reason for the random murders was to tip Rafi over the edge. Clearly if that was the goal, the more random violence, the better. It is therefore improbable to me that Asmo would restrain himself to those few deaths. The same is true for Fix's narrow escapes; given that we've seen how loosed demons can affect people at a distance, why not force Castor to kill himself, or at least freeze, during their first struggle? From a plot perspective, I understand why Asmo was limited to physical violence; until this book, Castor hasn't "powered up," so for the plot to work, Asmo had to be quite low-powered--ridiculously so, from the point of view of #2 and #4.
Continuing with my gripes about human evil, I was frustrated that one of the most fascinating aspects--the origin of demons--was essentially dropped in this one. While the plot would have created an interesting opportunity to explore Asmo's lost humanity, he is reduced to a two-dimensional sketch of evil incarnate. Even Juliet's previous humanity is ignored, and her previous incarnations, her slow transformation from angular, savage creature to the softer Juliet, almost seem to contradict her human origins.
As a mystery reader, I was also frustrated by the dropped plot threads/ red herrings. For example, how, precisely, did Linda fit in? Asmo claimed she did...what did he mean? Who was the "he" who Rosie warned Fix about? Surely not Gil, not with that oh-so-suggestive pause and change of subject. And why did Asmo hide in the tunnels? Why did he traipse around the city in a suggestive pattern? Why pick those particular people to kill? As I've noted, the reason given--to weaken Rafi--seems awfully tenuous, because surely killing Fix--or random passerbys--would have helped as well. Asmo has always struck me as an intensely practical guy. Surely there are plenty of other succubi in Hell; why not call up one of those to free him, then come back and wreak havoc on humanity? Why spend so much effort and take so many risks in the pursuit of Juliet? And come to think of it, why keep Fix alive? Why was he "needed"? That particular rationale for Asmo's actions seemed awfully weak to me. Come to think of it, how did Asmo make it out of England? Was that ever clarified? I'd also like to honour Castor with the Darwin Award for going into Asmo's tunnel unaided and unprepared instead of saving all the exorcists at the pool. Jeez.
Even Fix's whole "recording" thing bothered me: it's a game-changer, because it means that Fix's power to banish demons is not directly related to "self"; it can somehow be amplified by someone else's tech, recorded, modified, and more. So what does that mean for the future? Can others record Fix and use the recordings without his presence? If so, what, precisely, contains the magic? On the same note, the whole photo thing didn't work much for me either. What, would plastering arbitrary pixels work, given that they *could* be reconstructed to a face? Basically any set of pixels--any set of varied colours--can meet that description. Talk to any found-objects artist. If not, is it the intention, the belief, that matters? The meaning to the creator? If so, then who needed to embue the weapon with meaning? Rafi wouldn't have known what they were doing... was it exorcist power? It all just seemed awfully sloppy to me. (hide spoiler)]
While I've always sympathized with Fix's guilt-driven mission to disentangle Asmo and Rafi while keeping Rafi alive, for me, it's always been about Fix, as I consider Rafi a waste of space, an arrogant, weak-willed, selfish sociopath, a user of others, and one who deserves to reap precisely what he has sowed. Much of my feelings are carried over to Pen, Rafi's whining girlfriend and Fix's unrequited love interest. Pen is always ready to blame everyone else for Rafi's actions, to place the consequences of Rafi's choices on everyone else's shoulders, to sacrifice anyone else for her precious lover's comfort. The demon-haunted Rafi is, in short, the perfect abuser and Pen the ideal enabler, both always willing to heap guilt and inconvenience and danger on everyone else to get what they want.
I think it comes down to a universal moral quandry of endless fascination to philosophers: is personal the same is important? My viewpoint: find the most culpable person and let 'em have it. One reason why I'm endlessly captivated by hardboiled/noir is that this perspective almost unerringly places me (at least in principle) on the antagonists' side. In Castor's case, I was incredulous at Castor's unquestioning decision to thwart those planning to kill Rafi/Asmodeus. He is willing to sacrifice any principle, to encounter any danger, to risk all--including countless other lives put at risk by a demon on the loose-- to save his friend. I just kept wondering why he bothered. (view spoiler)[Personally, I thought the HEA ending was an utter cop-out, especially with the convenient little tidbit about Rafi remembering nothing about the atrocities he committed. It may just be my disappointment talking. Given the events of the previous books, I fully expected the irony of Fix managing to save Rafi, only for him to die during the dissolution of souls. The bittersweet ending I craved was Rafi having the opportunity for freedom from a vengeful Asmodeus, but for once, taking a selfless decision, destroying himself and Asmodeus, and thereby finding some sort of redemption. Instead, we get this flat, contrived bit of superficial cheer. So Rafi and Pen get to dance into the sunset, consequence-free, leaving a sea of bodies behind them? Bully for them.
I see two alternatives: (1) Rafi spends the rest of his life wracked with guilt over the harm he has caused, unable to ever be comfortable in his own skin, unable to ever be happy again, or (2) Rafi is a sociopath and Fix has just released him to rampage again. Either way, it is not an HEA. (hide spoiler)]
Science fiction and fantasy provide wonderful opportunities to twist reality just enough to put readers into a situation where their prejudices and preconceptions no longer apply and they can re-confront the basis for their beliefs. I think that's what Carey was trying to do with Juliet: we all know abusive men are terrible, but what if the abuser is a woman? What if the abuser isn't even human? What if she's the prototypical demon lover? What then? For me, however, it's still a black-and-white issue of domestic abuse, so Juliet's foray into sofa-throwing put a real dent in my sympathy for her as a character. While I was disgusted by Juliet the abuser, her attempts to define and quantify love and relationships were illuminating. Carey does his best to paint her as a sympathetic character bewildered by her own loss of control, yet resigned to the darkness in her nature:
"There are limits to how far you can change yourself. I've come to the end of an arc, Castor, and I'm swinging back."
There were still plenty of aspects of the story that I loved. Much of the plot centres around the importance of names, and I always find that idea fascinating. Castor continues to struggle with the changes in his world and his own role in it. Rosie, the elderly but still bawdy ghost, makes another enjoyable appearance, and at several points, Castor descends into Cockney rhyming slang, which warmed the cockles of my little Amurrrican heart. Despite my general distaste for woo-woo-evils-of-science-style plots, I was captivated by the vivid, gut-wrenching descriptions of Jenna-Jane's laboratory, where the dead men truly and terrifyingly "lose their bones." The climax, too, is positively pulse-racing; towards the end, I found myself hyperventilating (in traditional Castor style, come to think of it), with my hand convulsively clutching my jaw. Carey also manages to insert a few truly brilliant quotes into the story; for example:
"People only want as much history as they can easily carry around."
This might be the way the world ends, and I may have been sneaking Eliot quotes into every Castor review I've written, but I'm going to resist temptation, no matter how depressingly apt one particular quote may be. To me, it felt as though the book had drifted away from the soul of the series: the strident cry against man's inhumanity to man, the acute, unblinking stare into human atrocity, the depiction of human folly and weakness--all have all been replaced by the simple, straightforward, distant evil of a coldblooded demon. There were plenty of bright moments and characteristic Carey wit, but I'm still sad that this beautiful chiaroscuro ends with such a feeble whimper. While I'm not thrilled with this ending to the tale, I have loved every other minute of Castor's powerful, imaginative, gripping series. If you're in the mood for gorgeously gritty noir, please give the series a try--the first book is The Devil You Know.
~3.5
Originally posted on BookLikes, which may have additional quotes and comments (yep, it is possible for this review to be longer) that I didn't copy over. ...more
It's hard to imagine a worse familial situation than being married to two men and, due to an unfortunate concatenation of circumstances**edit 11/26/13
It's hard to imagine a worse familial situation than being married to two men and, due to an unfortunate concatenation of circumstances, being simultaneously pregnant with both of their children. Add in a psychotic father who wants you dead and you really have a party. So how do Kate and Curran get themselves involved with this interesting family? In Kate Daniel's world, panacea may not cure all ills, but it does help with loupism. With Julie's best friend in dire need, Curran, Kate, and most of their gang head off to Europe to try to get their hands on the magical medicine in exchange for guarding the pregnant woman from her loving relatives. ... Due to my disapproval of GR's new and highly subjective review policy,the rest (of my long, rather cranky review) is posted over here at Booklikes.
Now knowing that panacea has at least a little basis in previous worldbuilding, call it ~3.3....more
Kate Daniels can't catch a break. The Dinner (yes, that dinner) doesn't turn out as planned, but she has scarcely had time to start m**edited 12/30/13
Kate Daniels can't catch a break. The Dinner (yes, that dinner) doesn't turn out as planned, but she has scarcely had time to start moping before disaster truly strikes: a mysterious cloaked individual is running around the city, apparently spreading horrific plagues for no other reason other than the general fun of it. Guess who the Merciful Order sends to get a handle on the problem? And guess who wants in on the investigation?
I think this is my favourite dystopian world. And yes, it is a dystopia. There is a chocolate shortage. Need I say more?
The Kate Daniels series has got to be one of the most highly regarded urban fantasy series out there, with reason. Kate is an incredi**edited 12/30/13
The Kate Daniels series has got to be one of the most highly regarded urban fantasy series out there, with reason. Kate is an incredibly entertaining narrator: she's sharp, spunky, and a lot of fun. The world is creative and well-developed, and the plots (or, at least, those that I've seen) are tight and cleverly constructed. The book also do an impressive tightrope act, balancing precariously right on the borders of PNR (Paranormal romance) and UF (urban fantasy) and strongly appealing to audiences from both camps.
Kate and I had a rocky start. I read the first book and my detestation for Curran was so strong that it outweighed my appreciation for Kate. When I was finally galvanized to try again, I decided to test things out a little later in the series: this book, in fact. I can now say that I have definitely joined the legion of Kate Daniels fans.
"My name is Rachel Mariana Morgan. Conjure by it at your own risk. When demons get deadly, when vamps get vicious, when pixies get pe**edited 01/02/14
"My name is Rachel Mariana Morgan. Conjure by it at your own risk. When demons get deadly, when vamps get vicious, when pixies get pesky, when the Ever-after gets eerie, give me a call. I'm in the book." No, Rachel doesn't say this. But she so totally should.(view spoiler)[When someone actually did summon her, I started laughing--and this was why. (hide spoiler)]
Kim Harrison's series is one of the most well-known and well-regarded urban fantasy/paranormal romance series out there, and I can completely understand why. Her principal character, Rachel, is engaging, her world is full of creativity and sly humour, and there is a large and entertaining cast of characters. My favorite aspect is the premise of the world itself: at some point in the 60s, a genetic experiment with tomatoes went horribly awry and got most of the human population killed. The paranormal creatures decided that with over half the humans dead and the remainder shocked and weakened, this would be an opportune moment to come out of the closet. Apparently, this worked out fine (which I personally find rather surprising), and now the humans and supernatural creatures live in harmony in their post-tomato-apocalypse world.
Unfortunately, this book isn't for me. **My rating has nothing to do with the book's quality and everything to do with my personal enjoyment.**
Kate Daniels is getting the hang of her new life as a representative of the Order of Merciful Aid, but she's always happy to do a lit**edited 12/08/13
Kate Daniels is getting the hang of her new life as a representative of the Order of Merciful Aid, but she's always happy to do a little mercenary work on the side. When Jim, her ex- mercenary partner and jaguar shapeshifter, asks her to handle a little problem with fire salamanders, she happily agrees. But of course, since this is Kate, things start getting weird. When she investigates the location where the rogue salamanders appeared, she finds an apparently bottomless pit that stinks of enchantment--not a good sign when waves of magic keep submerging the city. And that's when it get complex: a rogue coven of witches has vanished during a forbidden rite, and Kate ends up with one of their children in tow. Creepy purple undead creatures are stalking Kate and her charge, and there seems to be no way to avoid them. And as if that's not enough, a supernaturally fast thief has managed to break into the shapeshifter's keep, and now Kate is dragged back into contact with Curran, the dangerous and alluring Beast Lord. Here we go again....
Sookie Stackhouse is a pretty, demure, and (extremely) naive blonde with a "disability": the ability to read other peoples' minds. (A**edited 12/04/13
Sookie Stackhouse is a pretty, demure, and (extremely) naive blonde with a "disability": the ability to read other peoples' minds. (Apparently, despite the direct contradiction in the term, an additional ability is the new disability in Sookie's world.) When Sookie uses her skill to prevent the murder of a vampire, she finds herself with a doorway into this only recently exposed world. Determined to discover who has been murdering the various "loose women" around town, Sookie teams up with the enthralling vampire Bill (ugh) to find the answer.
I felt compelled to read this because, as far as I understand it, Sookie Stackhouse, along with Patricia Brigg's Mercy Thompson, are to "female-protagonist urban fantasy"/paranormal romance (I'll call it FUF) what Harry Dresden is to "male-protagonist/hardboiled urban fantasy"(which I'll call MUF): the template, archetype, the most prominent example, and the series to set oneself up against. In other words, Sookie is who we get to blame for all of the tropes that are common to all subsequent FUF. So I must admit that I enjoyed trying to unearth which of these tropes are due to Sookie.
I've really enjoyed this series: despite being very PNR UF, the romance doesn't overwhelm the fun parts and Mercy Thompson herself is**edited 01/24/14
I've really enjoyed this series: despite being very PNR UF, the romance doesn't overwhelm the fun parts and Mercy Thompson herself is a strong, independent heroine. The plots are typically adrenaline-filled and the characters are engaging and sympathetic. However, this instalment of Mercy's story lacked the action and tight plotting of her other adventures, and this in turn brought into focus a lot of my issues with the characters and their relationships.
The story starts with a wedding six books in the making. Adam and Mercy head out to the wilds near the Columbia River on their honeymoon, but due to a little fairy fiddling behind the scenes, they end up right in the middle of some serious supernatural shenanigans. There's something in the water, and it's not particularly friendly. Mercy quickly becomes involved in an ancient struggle between Native American spirits and finally has the opportunity to explore her own heritage. ... Due to my disapproval of GR's new and highly subjective review deletion policy, I am no longer posting full reviews here.
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