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!

Written on the Dark - Guy Gavriel Kay

In the interest of full disclosure, I think Guy Gavriel Kay is one of the best genre writers practicing in the field today. It’s entirely possible, I think, that he hasn’t written a bad book. And, to be clear, I think he’s knocked it out of the park again. If you’re an existing Kay fan, you’re going to enjoy Written on the Dark immensely. If you’re not…well, you’re probably going to enjoy it, too. 

Kay is known for his alt-history work. Set in worlds that are perhaps one step removed from our own. Where the names are a little different, the faces are familiar but not quite the same, where the thrust of events nudges at the back of your mind, but the details, the intimate, the human, the emotional filigree of the experience, are all very different. And in themselves, these smaller stories can change, shift the rolling path of great events in another direction. Small things, things people do, can change the world. The way two people see each other, the way a chance meeting in the street can lead to a conversation that shifts paradigms…is something Kay portrays very well.  And I tell you what, Kay can write a world. He has a lush, lyrical prose style, which provides his setting with weight, and beauty, and a sense of capturing that beauty alongside the costs. Blood on a silvered blade.  And this is a world that you might have run across before, a world which feels quite similar to medieval France. High chivalry, armoured men on horses, and a desire to make the world beautiful, in poetry, in life. 

Indeed, the protagonist, Thierry, is a professional poet. Maybe professional is taking it a bit far, as he also has several less salubrious side-hustles. But he’s a smart man, and living in his head is no hardship. A fast talker and risk-taker, Thierry is also a thoughtful man, one who knows that words can shift mountains, assuming you can find the right words. That words can build legends, if you can find the right words. That words can shatter men, if you can find the right words. But that from time to time, the world is a dark and deadly place, and if the silvered tongue of chivalry and love can’t do the job, then a dagger at your belt wouldn’t be the worst thing to have. Kay has a penchant for male artist protagonists, and exploring the dichotomy within them of making art and craftsmanship in a more martial world, and this is no exception. But, to be fair, it’s a good bit. The tensions both within Thierry and within society are explored with a compassion and honesty and a sense of truth. And Thierry’s relationships, his struggles with his friends and his lovers and his social and political superiors, sit within a broader sense of events. Within a world on the cusp of change, where the right word in the right place can move a pebble into an avalanche. There's a sense of the epic here, intertwined with characters whose relationships keep that scale grounded, intimate, and human. 

I don’t want to spoil the story, but I will say that Kay never has a problem keeping my attention. This is one of those books whose first few pages grabbed onto my heart and mind, and refused to let go until I was done reading it, at some unconscionable hour of the morning. It’s a story with some romance, some heart, some rapid pivots and sharp twists. It’s a story that, I know it’s a cliche, is a page-turner, because it for sure kept me turning pages. 

Kay has always been a great writer, but I think he’s at the top of his game here, telling a tale that is at once a soaring piece of theatre, and an intensely personal story. It is, in short, really rather good, and I encourage everyone to go and pick it up immediately.

The Book That Held Her Heart - Mark Lawrence

Those of you who have been following along for a while know that I'm a big fan of Mark Lawrence. His fantasy work is always clever, always builds a richly detailed world that you can live in, and always, always, always comes with the kind of emotional honesty that leaves me feeling for the characters, and thinking about the story for weeks afterward. Not to give the game away, but The Book That Held Her Heart, the final volume of his Library trilogy, is all of those things. It promises big, and manages to deliver even more.

It's a lot of things, this saga. A love story, Livira and Evar, reaching out to each other across time and space and narrative construction. And a story with an idea, a question - is it better to build knowledge and pass it between generations, along with the attitudes and horrors that built it, biases and terrors moving between generations, pushing down on people until they're fossilised under the weight of the past - or to remove that knowledge and have people build something from nothing, making the same mistakes over and over and over again. There isn't a Big Answer for that Big Question, I think, but the book gives its characters the chance to explore the idea, to reach the edges of it, to try and unpick some of it, to perhaps build their own truths about what to do, much like the rest of us. 

In looking at the big idea, the book definitely deals with some smaller ones as well. It explores the notion of identity. In a space where people skip between worlds and eras, who they are isn't necessarily who they may become. And as the space between the pages of the Library grows more unstable, people can find themselves echoes of what they thought they were, or being someone else entirely - or fighting to exist at all. There's a sense, looking around at the characters, that theyre both re-evaluating themselves and falling into versions of themselves that they're still struggling to define. Arpix and Clovis, whose budding romance was such a joy in the previous book, continue trying to find their way around their own prejudices and world shattering events to find each other, to find what they need in each over. And Livira and Evar continue t try and find each other at all, without falling into the pages of their own fictions. The book looks on these romances positively, shows us that they're people who matter, that their choices and feelings and needs matter. They're also saving the world, of course, or a world, or something like a world, but they're doing it for each other, for their friends and loves and the connections that they've made. I'm a sucker for Arpix and Clovis, to be fair, the gentle librarian and the explosive warrior, coming to an understanding across times and species that says, you're people, and you're wonderful for it. But we do see some old favourites as well - the Librarian Yute, for example, finds himself travelling a world that might be ours, in the borders of the exchange between the library (or libraries). It is...not to spoil it, but he finds himself in a part of history where librarians are less than welcome. And in struggling to understand what that world is, trying to see what makes it tear itself apart and build itself up again, in understanding costs and conflicts and humanity, Yute is our eyes into our own strength, resilience and bravery. 

This is a book which isn't afraid to take chances, to flip the table and move the reader out of what they were expecting, and into something new. And it's a book with so many stories to tell. I must admit to enjoying them all - from Yute to Livira to Evar to Mayland and out into the world of siblings and friends and bit parts and people who are the heroes of their own story - and they all feel like they have self-realisation, have depth, have a reality of their own, looking back at you from the page. That they all have a story to tell. And they do. And that story, though I won't spoil it, is a thoughtful one. A kind one. Sometimes one that gives the reader a pang in the heart - good, or bad - and sometimes one that warms you from the inside out. It's a story that builds on what came before, and pushes it somewhere ne. It's a story that, at the last, will make you think and make you feel. 

It's good, is what I'm saying, and if you've come this far in the series, it's worth your time.