Corvus - Marko Kloos

Corvus is the second in Marko Kloos' Frontline: Evolution series, itself a sister series to his blockbuster Frontlines. This one stars Alex Archer, one time colonist, survivor of alien attack, friend to dogs everywhere, and general butt-kicker. Maybe not of actual generals, but she's been known to get into fights with creatures that are the size of apartment buildings and at least live to tell the tale - no shrinking violet. 

At the end of the last book, Alex seemingly gave up on civilian life. She'd been repatriated to Earth after a daring rescue from encroaching aliens (the "Lankies", the aforementioned building-sized monstrosities with bad attitudes), and found that the quiet life of a suburban housing project wasn't really for her. So she joined the same military that had kept her colony alive under the threat of Lankie annihilation, looking for somewhere to fit in, and maybe to get a little payback along the way. And so we come to Corvus, a book where Alex gets to reckon with the consequences of that choice, and where more than a few things explode rather messily. 

Alex is...well, she's something of a mess at the start of the book, and working on rebuilding herself and her image as much as the military is looking to reshape her into an effective soldier. She's troubled, yes, and struggling with trauma, but also determined, thoughtful, compassionate - and occasionally downright lethal. What makes her a good protagonist though is that she has heart. She has a sense of duty, and honour, and won't go quietly in the face of losing either of those things. But she's also a pragmatist and a survivor, someone determined to make sure everyone in her teams makes it back alive, even if that means making tough choices, to, occasionally, doing things that might, to the untrained eye, appear crazy. And along with that loyalty to her people, she has a sense of perspective, a sense of the mission that allows us, the reader, to follow along, to sympathise and empathise at her struggles, because we can see a good person working to their limits, trying to get things done, to win, or failing that, to survive, or failing that, to at least go down fighting. Alex is a hero in the clothing of an everyday person, and that makes her easy to root for, and great fun to read about. 

Kloos has always had a solid set of chops for worldbuilding, and this book is no different. He's spent a lot of time making the military service for his future Earth seem plausible, and all that extra context and density of detail pays off here. Whether Alexis walking the decks of a space-carrier, or wading through mud and ruins on the surface of a deeply unpleasant world, those places have a history and a texture, sight unseen, freighted with meaning and with little details that make them feel real. It's hard to say what it is that keeps making this work so well, but part of it is the lived in nature of the spaces, and the earnest characterisation, which means that even the oddest bits of the universe are straightforward to accept at face value - you believe in it because the characters do, and you're swept along for the ride. And that's no bad thing, because while the characters are engrossing and entertaining, the world is out there giving their actions something to hang off of, a rich, dense fabric of referents and locations, all of which seem like you could step into the book and visit. Though most of them....you probably wouldn't want to. 

As for the story - well, no spoilers, as ever. It trots along at a decent pace, giving you room to breathe here and there before hitting with one twist after another, one wrench or act of heroism or another, one victory, one retreat, one moment of comrades coming together, one profile in courage. It's a story that isn't afraid to show you the Big Aliens and humanity trying to take them down, and do so with action that'll keep you turning pages too late at night, but it's also not afraid to look at the smaller stuff, or to provide emotional stakes that matter as much as the gunfights and space wars do - watching a team come together, watching a group bond and live and die and survive, looking at humanity in miniature, is the heart of the story. Though shooting cool space lasers is great too. Corvus is a worthy sequel to the excellent Scorpio, and I was left a little bereft that I can't start the next book until Kloos has the decency to, you know, write it, which is always the sign of a winner. Definitely pick this up, if you're a Frontlines fan. 

Stone and Sky - Ben Aaronovitch

Stone and Sky is the latest in the long running Rivers of London series from Ben Aaronovitch. And while it isn't the first to take place mostly outside London, its the first to take place in Scotland. And Aberdeen, no less, a place with a rich history of strange goings on, industrial skulduggery and difficult loyalties. Aaronovitch brings our erstwhile protagonist, Peter Grant, up to Aberdeen on holiday with his family, and...well, things go off the rails shortly thereafter. A seagull may have been involved. The less said, the better.

One of the strengths of this series has always been its sense of place. Aaronovitch has a love of London, plainly. And that affection for the city has worked its way into the stories he tells, from the mini-infodumps Peter does for the reader about architecture and history, to the lavishly detailed descriptions of museums and not-entirely-random tower blocks. Coming to another place, another space with its own history and culture...well. It works! I don't get quite the same amount energy and enthusiasm for the life and history of Aberdeen in this story as for London in others, but the energy is still there. Aberdeen is a city that pretends to be grey and dour, with the sea roaring over the long strands of beach, its heritage blended with a corporate vision of oil rigs from horizon to horizon. That vision and the city itself feel like they're being scaled back, here. This is a city which has had its boom, built like there was no tomorrow, and is now faltering as revenues drop off. The bright lights are no longer quite so bright. The big money jobs are fewer and further between. The guarantee of steady work is slowly slipping away. But for all that, the city still has a heart, still thrums with the kind of energy you get with access to ready money that can be made by, well, making something. This isn't London, no, but if its different, its roots go as deeply. There are families here that can find ancestors too far back to matter, and some of them are...well, more than a little strange. There's parvenus and nouveau riche and there's pubs where you probably won't set foot unless your dad and his dad drank there before you. There's a sense of a city which is changing, though whether that is for the better is anyone's guess. And Aaronovitch builds that sense, builds that fluidity into the text, at the same time as we see the solidity of the town itself, the grey stone that gets everywhere, the sheer density of the material, the ardent solidarity of people who know who they are, and where they're from - even as that understanding of where they're going slips away a little every day. 

Which is a long-winded way of saying, yes, this is Aberdeen. A place with a real heart, a real soul, that's been knocked down and got up again a few times, and still has a laugh in it for everyone that spends their time there. And to be fair, we get to see some of the countryside, too. And if it has less cultural weight, you can still feel the warmth and other-ness of those crofts and hollows, those liminal spaces which aren't entirely human (and may or may not be populated by talking foxes).

On the topic of talking foxes...this is, I think, the first Peter Grant book with multiple points of view. There's a sprawling cast, most of them familiar from other stories in the "mainline" series, and some who presumably turned up in the various multimedia spinoffs. It feels a bit overwhelming at first, but after a few chapters, things settle down. Peter gets the lion's share of the time on page, but his somewhat roguish apprentice-family-member Abigail features heavily, finding her life more than a little upended by the locals -both human and non. I rather like Abigail, but she's definitely bringing a youthful energy (and syntax) that takes a bit of getting used to. By contrast, Peter Grant is now a liottle slower, a little more methodical, a little more...dare I say it, thoughtful? And a father - which is a joy to see, incidentally. They're not exactly a dynamic duo, but both of them are smart, charming, streetwise sorts, and entertaining to read. 

And then there's the story. Which I promise I won't spoil. But it delves into local folklore, it pokes around the bones of local history, modern and...other, and it gives us both people and the supernatural at their best and worst. There's some fine investigative work, and if you run alongside Peter and Abigail, they give you enough information to figure out what's going on before all is revealed. Because this is a mystery, even if it has a big seagull. And it's a character piece, which isn't afraid to delve into its characters and try and show us who they want to be as well as who they are. And it's a social story, about class and wealth and power, and what anyone is willing to do to get or keep those things. And, also, there's the occasional fireball, just to keep things interesting. 

Stone and Sky may not be in London, but it's a fine Rivers of London book, and if you're a fan of the series, definitely worth picking up.

Back next week!

 We got stuck away from home due to an airline strike! We'll be back next week.

Infinite Archive - Mur Lafferty

I've been enjoying Mur Lafferty's work for a while, ever since the absolutely brilliant Six Wakes. And with her "Mid-Solar Murders" series, Lafferty has proven a dab hand at blending two genres that are rather tricky to turn into gumbo - detective stories, and science fiction. But here we are, with the third entry in the series, Infinite Archive. And you know what, it's as fun and as thoughtful and as clever as the previous two instalments. It manages  to write a compelling mystery inside of a world at once strange and familiar, surprising us without ever being, well, unfair. If you're an existing fan of the series, you know what you're walking into. Everyone else, well, it's a journey.

Speaking of journeys. Mallory Viridian remains our protagonist for this volume. A woman who, despite her best efforts, keeps turning up when people end up dead. And then keeps solving the murders that keep, for some reason, happening around her. Because the alternative is a trip to jail. But Mallory is living a quieter life now, on a space station far, far away from most people. And while she's a detective by necessity, she's an author by trade, writing fiction base don the murders that she solved. Which leads to the question - once the murders dry up, what can she write about? Fortunately, or unfortunately for Mallory, that question may well be answered. Her agent and a swarm of other people, regular human people who have a tendency to fall down dead around Mallory, are coming to visit her far, far away space station. As a murder mystery cruise. Her agent is ready to sell her on some other ideas - showing off science fiction and pitching cosy murders to a woman who lives, well, in space. It's a delightful shift in setting for Mallory - away from the  exotically known corners of her own weird space station and its esoteric inhabitants. Now she's on a cruise ship, which also happens to be a space ship, trying to solve a murder which may, or may not, be very real indeed. The murder-cruise is a historical staple of the mystery genre, and this one evokes the best parts of Christie, from its strange crew and passengers, to the even odder ship, to the baffling going son. Why is it bigger on the inside than the outside? Why are half the crew (at least) hiding something? Exactly how much blood are we going to have to clean out of the carpet this time? It's a knowing wink to the genre, a kind, even loving one, and that sense of comfort mixes well with the more off-kilter sci-fi ideas. 

Mallory remains an entertaining protagonist, as well. She's, well, complicated. Having people die around you all the time is probably enough to give anyone a complex. But Mallory is smart, kind and compassionate as well as having a razor's-edge intelligence, and, well, something of an undisclosed edge. But the Mallory of this book starts out trying to work out who she is, now that she's not immediately solving murders or writing books - looking toward a pathway of self-definition, even as the universe does its level best to both define her and throw enough problems into the mix that she doesn't have time to breathe, nevermind think. We've all had days like that, I think. Or weeks! Mallory Veridian lives it, and we live it with her. The fatigue, the irritation, the confusion, the moments of insight and clarity, the warmth of friendship returned. She's, yes, complicated, but if not always kind, always humane. And as ever, watching her delve into the depths of madness that is both an alien space station and...well, space-borne murder-mystery cruise, which I can't believe I typed with a straight face, well, its downright fun. Mallory isn't always sympathetic, but I sure can empathise with her and her struggles - and those of her friends and colleagues too. Mallory serves as the medium into their world, and she's thoroughly entertaining. 

I don't want to dig into the plot overmuch, because the mechanics of it tick over quite nicely, and it has enough stakes, large and small, to keep you turning the page. To see who did what. And why. And how. There's a lot going on here, moving parts kept carefully on track until, well, in this metaphor they crash into each other and make a big tangle that Mallory has to come and unpick. But the story works, it's smart and well paced and it doesn't cheat - you can figure out what's going on with the same information Mallory has, give or take. It's clever and tense and has some observations about humanity and how we act in environments strange and familiar that bear thinking about. Anyway, in the end, this is a good time, and if you've been looking for a sci-fi murder-mystery piece, this will satisfy that itch. And if you're an existing fan, all the better - it's a fun read!

Back soon!

 We're on holiday for a couple of weeks. We'll be back!

Bee Speaker - Adrian Tchaikovsky

You know what? I sometimes struggle when Adrian Tchaikovsky puts out a new book. Because I tend to explode with breathless enthusiasm, and then wonder whether I'm overdoing it. The problem, though, is that I have to keep doing it, because the man keeps turning out truly excellent work. Annoyingly, therefore, I have to say that with Bee Speaker, he's done it again. 

This book is the third in a series that started with Dogs of War, which was probably my favourite story of 2017. You can read it as a standalone as well, I think, but it definitely helps to have the context from Dogs and 2021's Bear Head. Because this is a story of a world that's broken, and about the  results of best intentions in trying to fix it from far, far away. Because this is a post-collapse Earth. One where we all just fought each other a little too long, and a little too hard. Where hubris and cruelty edged out empathy and humanity, where faith and humanity lost out to CEO's burning rainforests to try and make themselves immortal. But, it's a world surrounded by marvels. Because before things got out of hand, there was Mars. A Mars colonised by genetically engineered life, and regular people, who managed to survive the collapse of Earth, build something together in the harshest conditions, and who are now casting an eye back toward where they came from. Or at least, some version of them did. Because the people who live on Mars, these days, are different to how we might remember them. But they're still people. Even the ones who aren't.

That includes a very diverse cast indeed, a crew of adventurers looking to answer a call for help from Bees. The distributed intelligence called Bees, you see, helped save Mars once, when it was falling into collapse, and now a version of Bees is somewhere on Earth, calling for help. And so help is coming. Help looks like a reptilian sniper with an attitude problem, who can dial their own internal temperature up and down to move from cold strategy sessions to explosive action at the twitch of a dial. And A Dog, a canine hybrid originally built for war, now looking to build something new. And a couple of regular humans, whose ability to survive on the grounds of post-Collapse earth is rather open to question. Because this isn't the place their ancestors left, no. There's shades of A Canticle for Leibowitz here in a monastery that worships Bees, in the raiding gang of bunker dwellers obsessed with their own ideas of chivalry, while holding a dark secret in their hears, in the Factory, a place which keeps turning out Dogs, both as protection and as a means of influence, even when they no longer quite fit in a world reduced to subsistence agriculture in the ruins of abundance. 

Man, Tchaikovsky has a lot going on. He's always had big ideas, and this is definitely a whole mixture of them. But it's also an adventure, as our band of adventurers try to help, and even as they work on making things better, the sparks they use to do that may set the world on fire.  The story combines high-concept thought with some adrenaline-soaked action, with a dash of philosophy and a desire to ask big questions. As both the Martians and those they've come to help struggle with whether they want help, whether they should help, what happens next - and in some cases, what the consequences of action will be. Because four travellers may change the world, and not necessarily for the better. In fairness, the characters...oh, Tchaikovsky has always had a gift for off-kilter viewpoints, and here we are again, as he puts us into heads which are familiar, in a way, and also strange in others, with drives we can't always entirely fathom, but where understanding is always seemingly just within reach. It's smart, and its different and it may give you a headache. 

The post-apocalypse narrative carries a familiar framework, if perhaps not a familiar conclusion, and the paths wended through the story are replete with both surprises and moments of genuine wonder. It is, in a word, a Tchaikovsky book, and as with all of them, it's a bloody good time, and definitely worth picking up.

The Venetian Heretic - Christian Cameron

The Venetian Heretic is the start of a new historical fiction series from the impressively prolific Christian Cameron, whose excellent sci-fi and fantasy work I’ve spoken about here before. Amusingly, at one point I suggested his Deep Black was reminiscent of 16th century Venice, - and here we are, a year or so later, looking at another of his stories, set in, well, 17th century Venice. What’s a hundred years between us, eh? In any event, this story begins with professional swordsman Richard Hughes, whose chance rescue of someone in trouble on the canal-lined streets of Venice leads quickly to mystery, murder, and mayhem. Well, and duelling, conspiracy, and murder. And, well, some theater. Hughes is paddling in the edges of deep water, and inclined perhaps to get more than a little wet.

Hughes is the central character, but if I’m honest, the most vividly realised one is Venice herself, the Italian city on the lagoon, at a time when she was less tourist trap, and more incipient global power. The marble bridges over dark waters are described in vivid detail, and the politics that embraces everyone, from the nobility to the gondoliers, twines through the water and the soaring buildings towering beside them. It’s a city of ideas, and of brutal realities, where blood is spilled as quickly as a breath, and where art, where opera is as important as swordplay, and sometimes just as deadly. The prose is rich and affectionate, and brings the city to life, with a warmth, a depth and an energy that is impossible to deny. Cameron’s Venice has a sense of place, of history, and feels at once grand and intimately human.

Onto that stage, no pun intended, steps Richard Hughes - duellist, occasional Englishman, a man who would, on the whole, rather not go swimming in uncomfortably deep waters - metaphorical or otherwise. But he’s also thoughtful, intelligent, passionate, and loyal to his friends and his own sense of honour. Which makes for a likeable protagonist, and one whose penchant for getting into bigger and bigger trouble, following the ripples of larger and larger events to see where they lead, is extremely compelling reading. Hughes is a small fish in the great sea of state, passing on information where he can to help his friends or himself survive on the edges of Society, but he’s also someone striving to do better, to be a version of themselves they can look up to in the mirror. Hughes is a businessman, yes, a killer, absolutely, but one with a code, with ethics, with virtues. Whether Hughes is a good man  is definitely open to question as the story opens, but as the web of influence, murder and politics grows ever more byzantine, his bravery, loyalty and firm friendships become ever more important.. He’s a charming, funny protagonist, whose bouts of pragmatic cynicism are backed by moments of genuine heroism, one whose flaws highlight his virtues, and whose skills with a blade are backed up by a thoughtful investigative mind.Just as well, since he spend smooch of the story being a (variably willing) detective of sorts. In this, he’s aided by a rich cast of men and women who never feel less than real themselves. SOme of them are historical figures, others…less so, but they all have enough detail, enough depth, enough truth in them to be compelling in their own right.

Speaking of detective work - well, this story is a mystery at heart, I think. With murder and mystery at the centre of the narrative, there’s more twists and turns here than , well, between the canals of Venice itself. There’s duels, and opera, and assassins, and religion (and the Inquisition). There’s a dash of romance, and more than one dark moment on dark nights. There’s explosions and politics and passion and more than a little family drama. This is a story with, well, layers. It rewards careful reading, and it is also bloody difficult to stop reading once you get started. I had a great time with Hughes and his Venice, and I suspect you will too. Give it a whirl!