Tomorrow we're talking about Sarah Pinborough's psychological thriller, 13 Minutes.
It's an absolute masterclass in character, tension, and tight plotting - thoroughly enjoyable stuff.
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Monday, October 26, 2015
Down Station - Simon Morden
Down Station is a new fantasy novel by Simon Morden, perhaps best known for his Metrozone series. It follows a small group of people flung through a portal from London, and into a strange new world, as they come to terms with their situation, and each other.
The world of Down is an interesting one. Our group of characters are cast onto it, as if onto a foreign shore, and with a similar lack of understanding. Morden makes Down feel like a large space, once where getting anywhere is going to take a little while, and doesn’t flinch from the details that make this plausible – the characters are initially concerned with survival, with supplies, with how to acquire and prepare food. It’s a world which, to them, begins as a seemingly endless emptiness. It doesn’t stay that way of course – our cast of travellers quickly meet a host of native inhabitants, some more friendly than others.
Our view of the world shifts alongside the characters, learning more as they do. It’s a land filled with mysteries – one where habitation appears to have declined, and where strange, possibly magical and certainly lethal creatures hold sway. There’s a sense of wonder which Morden evokes, as the characters become more familiar with the world, but not yet of it. Each discovery is new, exciting and intriguing – but at the same time, potentially dangerous. Morden’s world is one sculpted with care. The role humanity plays, the society our party finds themselves in, are all plausible whilst unfamiliar. The sweeping vista that the characters have before them both befuddles and beguiles them, and it’s a credit to the author that it can do the same to the reader.
From a character standpoint, the focus is on a pair of young adults - one a Sikh engineering student, the other something of a reprobate – and their relationship with the world, the rest of the group, and each other. As part of a diverse ensemble, both have their quirks – I was a particular fan of the girl, who is struggling to work a minimum wage job and keep her nose clean to escape detention, and finds that on this new world, she’s entirely responsible for herself. Morden plots out the character journey wonderfully, giving us a troubled, undeniably intelligent, but angry individual, and looking at how they adapt and change in a world which requires self-confidence and self-reliance. She moves organically over the course of the book to be, if not a more pleasant human being, certainly with greater self-awareness. This shift is done well – it feels like there’s learning and character growth visible across the pages. It helps that she’s a great character to read – largely intolerant of other people’s nonsense, typically pragmatic, but with a central core of compassion and humanity to act as a counterbalance to these traits.
Our other protagonist is, at least initially, calmer, more sure of themselves. Both character journeys are centred around understanding the self; our Sikh engineer begins more sure of themselves, and finds events conspiring to strip that self knowledge back to a central core, paring back to the essential, and the previously unknown. He’s also quite an enjoyable read – a believable refusal to let go of values which might be a disadvantage in this new world, mixed with an empathetic understanding of those around him make for a gentler, but perhaps more effective character. Again, Morden gives his protagonist responses to circumstances which seem to work – there’s no out-of-the-bule changes here, more a series of gradual movements as he becomes something new – perhaps even something heroic.
The protagonists have a fairly small but marvellously portrayed supporting cast around them. I particularly enjoyed the Slavic railywayman who accompanies the engineering student - his caustic comments and ruthlessness made for a nice contrast to the more humane central duo. The remainder of the commuter group gets a bit of time, but is largely overshadowed by that given to the antagonist; I won’t go into detail here for fear of spoilers, but fond that their driving goal, and the logic behind it, felt believable, if not exactly sympathetic.
The plot starts frantically, as our cast make their way to Down station; the frenetic pace slows a little as our group explores the world in which they find themselves, but spikes of danger and the excellent characterisation kept me turning pages. As the group moves inland, however, the narrative takes off.
There’s magic, murder, betrayal, and a series of revelations which shifted they way I thought about the characters, and the world. I’ll say no more, to avoid spoilers, but the journey that our heroes take through the world of Down is fraught, intriguing, and thoroughly compelling – I couldn’t put it down .
Is it worth reading? The world is an interesting and well realised one. The central characters are believable and feel entirely human (though I would like to see more of the supporting cast in the sequel). The plot rattles along nicely, and kept me enthralled to the last page – so yes, I’d say so.
The world of Down is an interesting one. Our group of characters are cast onto it, as if onto a foreign shore, and with a similar lack of understanding. Morden makes Down feel like a large space, once where getting anywhere is going to take a little while, and doesn’t flinch from the details that make this plausible – the characters are initially concerned with survival, with supplies, with how to acquire and prepare food. It’s a world which, to them, begins as a seemingly endless emptiness. It doesn’t stay that way of course – our cast of travellers quickly meet a host of native inhabitants, some more friendly than others.
Our view of the world shifts alongside the characters, learning more as they do. It’s a land filled with mysteries – one where habitation appears to have declined, and where strange, possibly magical and certainly lethal creatures hold sway. There’s a sense of wonder which Morden evokes, as the characters become more familiar with the world, but not yet of it. Each discovery is new, exciting and intriguing – but at the same time, potentially dangerous. Morden’s world is one sculpted with care. The role humanity plays, the society our party finds themselves in, are all plausible whilst unfamiliar. The sweeping vista that the characters have before them both befuddles and beguiles them, and it’s a credit to the author that it can do the same to the reader.
From a character standpoint, the focus is on a pair of young adults - one a Sikh engineering student, the other something of a reprobate – and their relationship with the world, the rest of the group, and each other. As part of a diverse ensemble, both have their quirks – I was a particular fan of the girl, who is struggling to work a minimum wage job and keep her nose clean to escape detention, and finds that on this new world, she’s entirely responsible for herself. Morden plots out the character journey wonderfully, giving us a troubled, undeniably intelligent, but angry individual, and looking at how they adapt and change in a world which requires self-confidence and self-reliance. She moves organically over the course of the book to be, if not a more pleasant human being, certainly with greater self-awareness. This shift is done well – it feels like there’s learning and character growth visible across the pages. It helps that she’s a great character to read – largely intolerant of other people’s nonsense, typically pragmatic, but with a central core of compassion and humanity to act as a counterbalance to these traits.
Our other protagonist is, at least initially, calmer, more sure of themselves. Both character journeys are centred around understanding the self; our Sikh engineer begins more sure of themselves, and finds events conspiring to strip that self knowledge back to a central core, paring back to the essential, and the previously unknown. He’s also quite an enjoyable read – a believable refusal to let go of values which might be a disadvantage in this new world, mixed with an empathetic understanding of those around him make for a gentler, but perhaps more effective character. Again, Morden gives his protagonist responses to circumstances which seem to work – there’s no out-of-the-bule changes here, more a series of gradual movements as he becomes something new – perhaps even something heroic.
The protagonists have a fairly small but marvellously portrayed supporting cast around them. I particularly enjoyed the Slavic railywayman who accompanies the engineering student - his caustic comments and ruthlessness made for a nice contrast to the more humane central duo. The remainder of the commuter group gets a bit of time, but is largely overshadowed by that given to the antagonist; I won’t go into detail here for fear of spoilers, but fond that their driving goal, and the logic behind it, felt believable, if not exactly sympathetic.
The plot starts frantically, as our cast make their way to Down station; the frenetic pace slows a little as our group explores the world in which they find themselves, but spikes of danger and the excellent characterisation kept me turning pages. As the group moves inland, however, the narrative takes off.
There’s magic, murder, betrayal, and a series of revelations which shifted they way I thought about the characters, and the world. I’ll say no more, to avoid spoilers, but the journey that our heroes take through the world of Down is fraught, intriguing, and thoroughly compelling – I couldn’t put it down .
Is it worth reading? The world is an interesting and well realised one. The central characters are believable and feel entirely human (though I would like to see more of the supporting cast in the sequel). The plot rattles along nicely, and kept me enthralled to the last page – so yes, I’d say so.
Friday, October 23, 2015
Interstitial - Down Station
On Monday, we'll be looking at Simon Morden's "Down Station", a fantastical novel in which a group of commuters and railway employees find the,selves stranded in a strange new world. There's magic, excitement, chases, swordfights, and a lot of fantastically written and diverse characters thus far.
More on Monday.
More on Monday.
Thursday, October 22, 2015
The Shards Of Heaven - Michael Livingston
The Shards of Heaven is a historical fantasy by Michael
Livingston. Set during the struggle for power after the death of Julius Caesar,
it merges that period of historical conflict with more fantastical elements.
The world of The Shards of Heaven is at once familiar and
alien. Livingston does a great job of showing us the humanity of his
characters, whilst lending them enough attitudes from the period to make them
feel unusual. In any event, this is the world of Rome Unconquered, moving
inevitably from Republic to Empire. Though Rome itself gets less time than I’d
expected, it has a palpable presence through the rest of the text as an idea,
as a state of mind. There’s a cruel vitality to Livingston’s Rome – a power
which will shape the world.
We also spend quite a bit of time in Egypt. Livingston gives
us a more languid contrast to Rome, an Empire perhaps overly sure of its power.
There are sections set in Alexandria which set out to show a bustling
metropolis – with some success. They also show a world ensconced in protocol,
with elaborate ceremony sitting alongside wavering heat hazes and scholars in
the Great Library.
Livingston’s prose is spare, but effective; he manages to
make the period environment feel alive, without becoming over-elaborate. Moving
from Egypt to Rome, from battlefield to library, each feels concrete, the
backdrop to our protagonists actions made believable by them, and also
reinforcing them. It may rely a little on the reader filling in the blanks with
their own conceptions of the period, but overall, it’s a well crafted display
of the Roman world on the cusp of change.
Speaking of characters – this is a text which isn’t afraid
to make use of historical personages. Augustus, Caesarion, Anthony, Cleopatra
and a host of others make appearances, some more fleeting than others. The main
focus, however, is split between Caesarion and Juba, a fictional adopted brother
of Augustus. Juba is a wonderfully
conflicted character. Adopted as a child after a Roman conquest, he has close
familial ties with the highest society that Rome can offer. At the same time,
he remembers his natural father, and the devastation wreaked on his home by the
legions of Rome. This raises a conflict of identity which at ones drives and
torments him, as he becomes ever more ruthless in service to his goals.
Caesarion, by contrast, is a rather more familiarly heroic
figure. He’s uniformly pleasant, enjoying the company of guards, equals, and
his younger relatives. I suspect he’s also kind to small animals. He’s less
conflicted about his role, though more impacted by the events of the text. That
said, each of the decisions we’re given from him makes sense, and he feels more
like a person than an archetype – still, I’m hoping there’s room for a bit more
complexity in any sequel. He works as a character by being intelligent and
intelligently written, and being sympathetic; there’s hidden depths there as
well, it would have been nice to see more of them.
Both characters are ably assisted by a sprawling supporting
cast. Again, it would be great to see some of these characters given more room
to grow into themselves – Caesarion’s precocious younger sister, for example,
is a delight to read; her scenes are filled with some clever dialogue, and some
even cleverer actions. Still, overall they serve their purpose, giving us
context and texture for the world and the protagonists.
The plot starts a little slowly, though the pacing begins to
pick up about halfway through the text. The inclusion of the magical elements
in amongst the historical is a bit clunky; there’s a lovely section in the back
half of the book where a more minor artefact is located in a very organic way,
which I wish had been shown as an approach elsewhere. Still, the magic, when
used, makes for some quality action scenes. There’s some great battles in here
too, and the character drama is entirely believable. I applaud the scope of the
author’s narrative, and their technical prowess in making their battles feel like the reader is right there in them; I
would have liked a few more character scenes, but what was there worked to keep
the story rolling. In the end, the historical sections felt authentic and compelling,
and carried the necessarily less authentic scenes with magical artefact
shenanigans.
Is this worth reading? If you’re in the mood for a
historical novel laced with fantastic elements, I’d say so. The plot’s an
interesting read, the world feels close enough to the Antique period to be
believable, and the characters are authentic and entertaining. It has a few
flaws, but the text, overall, is definitely worth your time.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Interstitial - The Shards Of Heaven
Tomorro we'll have a review of Michael Livingston's historical fantasy, The Shards Of Heaven. Set at the start of the Roman Imperial period, it looks at how the inclusion of magical artifacts (the titular Shards) might have impacted the shaping of the new Empire. It's got some great battles and interesting characters - and is quite a fun read.
More tomorrow!
More tomorrow!
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Two of Swords (Part Nine) - K.J. Parker
Two of Swords is the new serialised novel by K.J. Parker. The first nine parts are available now, and run to about eighty pages each. Further parts will be made available on a monthly basis. I’m going to try and put out a review for one of the currently available, and then review each new part in the month where it becomes available.Part Nine brings us back to Telamon, a wetwork specialist for the Craftsmen. She has a dry wit, and an ability to react quickly which makes her a pleasure to read –e specially in dialogue. She also has a tendency to get dragged into appallingly dangerous tasks, and a sort of tired amorality, which strikes a wonderfully dissonant note alongside her love of beauty and literature. There’s something to be said for an individual who can ruminate on the interpretation of classical literature one minute, and casually slit a throat the next.
In this segment, she’s paired up with Oida, whom we’ve also seen before. He’s a spectacularly successful composer, a bridge between the Eastern and Western Empires in their civil war, and, at least in Telamon’s eyes, completely insufferable. On the other hand, he has a ready wit, gives as good as he gets in their exchanges, and seems to have less hidden depths and more hidden chasms. It sometimes seems like even Oida doesn’t know who Oida is, and Telamon is similarly baffled.
The relationship between the two is the heart of this segment. It’s a great read as well. The dialogue is sharp – sharp enough to cut yourself on at times. Both parties spend a lot of time together, and their jostling, arguments and rapprochements are highly entertaining. At the same time, there’s a sense of two people struggling to articulate themselves in a genuine way, beneath a veneer of detachment that is required in their positions. Parker manages to portray both Telamon and Oida as quietly fragile people, encased in personae which do not allow that fragility, that humanity, to surface. It’s intriguing to watch the flickers of something different under the layers of expectation. There’s a wonderful discussion around the nature of reasons, and the way in which there are layers of truth issued for every purpose – only the third of which is the ‘real’ reason. Both characters are cloaked in various layers of reasons, some of which they use to mislead both each other and themselves. It’s a masterclass in drawing characters in a few pages, exposing their nature whilst simultaneously keeping it behind a curtain. By the close, it feels as if we know Telamon and Oida better – and that they know themselves better as well. Though with Parker, either or both of those may be misleading.
Laced around the character drama which is the centre of the text, are a variety of adventures for Telamon. The covert mission she ends up engaged in is fast paced, with a sense of tension seeping through it which transfers to the reader. There’s enough action here to keep anyone entertained, and it acts as a nice counterpoint to the verbal sparring happening elsewhere in the text. It also has what looks like consequences for other parts of the plot – at least as much has currently been revealed. I’m still not entirely sure where the narrative as a whole is going, but this fusion of clever, interesting and intriguing dialogue, and action with weight and consequences is extremely compelling.
By now, you’ve already decided whether you’re enjoying Two of Swords as a whole; I will say though, that this is one of the stronger parts so far, and I enjoyed reading it immensely.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Interstitial - Two of Swords (Part Nine)
Tomorrow we'll have another in my ongoing series of reviews of K.J. Parker's "Two of Swords", which is being released in instalments as a serial novel. Part Nine came out a week or so ago, and takes us back to the relationship between our favourite mysterious assassin, and the probably-not-just-a-genius musician, Oida.
More tomorrow!
More tomorrow!
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