The Burning God - R.F. Kuang

So, The Burning God. It’s the end of a series which has a reputation for being packed with bloody, brutal action. For its precision crafted plots, filled with tension, crosses, double crosses, sudden revelations and emotional catharsis. And for the characters, which have a humanity to them;  sadness, rage and joy, bundled together in the clothes of heroes and monsters. Sometimes not even the same person. This is the conclusion to a trilogy which did more than pull no punches - it punched right through your sternum, grabbed your heart and made you feel things. Often while everything exploded. 

And this book, the concluding chapter, ramps it all up to eleven.

Rin remains our protagonist, and is now living life in a whirlwind of rage, self-hatred and resentment. But she’s also self aware enough to realise what she’s doing, and what she’s becoming. She’s been betrayed by almost everyone and everything she’s dealt with. The Imperial system trained her, used her up, and then tried to cast her aside. The Republic that fought in the shattered remnants of the Empire...also wanted to use her, then trade her away. External actors just wanted to cut her open and see how she worked. Friends died almost at random. Others because of her decisions. Others fell into madness. Basically, what I’m saying is, Rin has had a hard time recently. It’s definitely shaped who she is, scarred her, left her fighting not just the forces arrayed against her, but her own demons. You can feel Rin’s pain, and the way it fuels her rage - and the way that rage rolls out in waves of flame and incinerates her enemies. Gaining strength from her trauma is one thing, but Rin is defined by it too; and part of that is embracing her pain, and the choices she makes because of it. In some ways she feels cooler, more ruthless - whilst living in her own head with a vulnerability, and a focus that drives her forward relentlessly. You can cheer for RIn as she fights back against oppressors - I certainly did. But the costs are there, visible, raw and real. Physically and mentally, Rin is a woman dancing on the brink of the flame and the void. That the balancing act is so wrenching, so emotionally honest and painful,is a genuine triumph. That her struggle to decide who she wants to be, what she wants to achieve, and what she’s willing to do it feels genuine, even as she slips the leash of monstrosity and reels back in. You can sympathise with Rin, empathise with Rin, be absolutely horrified by Rin, and find yourself laughing at some of her banter or crying at her loss and the way her and others choices have taken her to this point. And that can happen in the space of a couple of pages!

I’ve been going on about Rin because this is, really, her story. Don’t worry though, sports fans - she’s surrounded by faces old and new. There’s that quiet love that sustains, driven to the kind of highs and lows that shape loyalty, devotion, and abuse. There’s the poisonous hatred that comes twinned with genuine but curdled affection. And there’s the whole gamut of betrayal, revelation, revenge, betrayal...catastrophic, cathartic violence, release, murder, love again...too much. I can’t talk about what really goes on without spoiling it. So I’m going to just say that it’s intense. We can feel the political, physical and spiritual geography shifting, seismic ripples driving out from Rin, her relationships, her choices and her consequences.

If you’re here for Rin and her journey of self destruction and self discovery, you’re going to love this. 

If you’re here for Rin and her amazing array of terrifyingly, terminally fraught relationships, with abused, abusers, and...well, the occasional regular person? You’ll love this too. 

If you’re here to see how it all ends, when the immovable object meets the immovable force, you’ll love this.

If you’re here for explosive, epic battles and magic that terrifies and astounds in equal measure, you’ll love this. 

If you’re here to have your heart torn apart, to feel, then yeah, you’re going to love this, though you might need a while to decompress and think about it afterwards.

Bottom line, this is a worthy end to a series I’ve really enjoyed and talked up for years. It’ll make you think, it’ll make you feel, and it will do both of those while telling a damn fine story. So go get a copy, right now, and get started on the ending you deserve.

Tales From the Folly - Ben Aaronovitch

Tales From the Folly is a short story collection from Ben Aaronovitch. It pulls together short stories from the viewpoint of P.C. Peter Grant, long suffering wizard apprentice and, to be fair, equally long suffering policeman, as well as some stories from the viewpoints of other recurring characters, as well a sequence of vignettes, or “Moments”. 

Most of these stories have turned up in Waterstones special editions, or on Aaronovitch's blog before now. However, there are a couple of new entries.”A Rare Book of Cunning Device”, set in the British Library, was previously only available on audio, and Three Rivers, Two Husbands and a Baby is making its debut appearance in this collection. THe tl;dr is that these are all rather fun tales, extra context and windows into the world of Peter Grant and the myriad of supernatural people (and regular people) he shares a world with - if you’ve not read any of them before, you’re in for a treat. If, on the other hand, you’ve got all the Waterstones editions on a shelf, you might need to think a bit harder - albeit it’s nice to have all of the stories together in a more portable package.

That being said, these stories give us more of what we all want. More Peter Grant. More weird supernatural entities with ties to London. More quirky, charming, terrifying characters. More banter that comes with the kind of sizzle that has you laughing and nodding along, even while it makes a sharp or poignant point. Really, if you’ve been reading the Peter Grant stories, you know what you’re getting here - it’s the good stuff. 

Incidentally, it’s always nice to spend time with Peter. As the tales here stretch over all of his career so far, we get to see his growth over time. Elements remain recognisable - the fierce intelligence, commitment to justice, and willingness to do the unexpected in order to make an arrest. But you can feel his confidence growing between stories, and a more mature individual cohering between his adventures with Nightingale and the others. Other stories include viewpoints from Abigail, and members of the KDA from The October Man, as well as the return of Agent Reynolds. Their voices are all different, though there’s an undercurrent of wry self knowledge that runs through the narratives. Still, they work well together; Reynolds melancholy in an isolated hotel room, for example, contrasts wonderfully with the general Christmas jolly of Abigail’s tale.

 

I’d say that this is a collection which is likely to appeal to existing fans, especially those looking for bite sized story snacks between books. Newcomers might want to start with Rivers of London, as otherwise you might lose context, and as the stories skip around chronologically, run afoul of spoilers.. That said, The stories here are smart, snappy, and self-contained. They’ll keep you turning pages, for sure - they’re full of sizzle. Really, as I may have said already, they’re great fun, and a great way to get to know some of our favourite folks a little better. My only real complaint is that there aren’t enough of them - I would happily have devoured twice as many. 

At the end of the day, this was a joy to read. It hits all the right notes. The humour, the pathos, the intelligence and the wry commentary of Grant are all very welcome. THe new entries into the supernatural lexicon are by turns charming and terrifying. The magic is wondrous and worrying. And London lives and breathes inside these pages. 

This was great fun to read, and if you’re trying to decide if it’s worth it: yes, yes it is.

Dealbreaker - L.X. Beckett

 

Dealbreaker is the second in the Bounceback series from L.X. Beckett. I really enjoyed the first of these, and was delighted to get my hands on the sequel. 

 

NOTE: I’m going to try and keep this spoiler-free, as ever, but approach with caution. 

Dealbreaker happens a generation after the events of Gamechanger. Humanity has got the attention of the universe outside it, which has come in and attempted a (failed) hostile takeover by economic means. Though still able to determine their destiny, humanity has found that when it reaches out to the stars, it’s asked if it has the necessary funds to make a purchase. Humans are the new kid on the block, and whether they can keep their prized autonomy is very much open to question. If Gamechanger brought us a post-climate exchange world, one in recovery, one where absolute surveillance went hand in hand with a culture of transparency, an economy founded on social capital, and crackdowns on hoarding, then Dealbreaker expands that world, brings different parts into focus, but keeps it just as alive, and just as fascinating. There’s so much going on here, so many criss-crossing webs of connection, of friendship, enmity, of bridges built and burned. Emergent AI are striding through humanity’s networks like ghosts - no longer afraid, no longer hunted, but recognised, with rights, needs and an agenda of their own. People are starting to claw back lives out from under the shadow of total climate catastrophe. And the world is coming to terms with a more sustainable existence, after decades of reconstruction. But all of this now plays out on a wider stage, as humanity reaches out for the stars, desperate to make its mark as part of the wider community, before something in that community scents weakness, and sends in the metaphorical gunboats. So the rebuilt economy is under strain, struggling to build out the technologies needed for us to be taken seriously and pay off the debts owed to do so to extraterrestrials with a less than wholesome interest in Earth.

Dealbreaker takes us to the stars, a strange panorama, filled with mystery and wonder in equal measure. The stumbling steps into a wider world are crafted with just the right amount of awe and discovery, blended with human courage , gumption, and a penchant for tasking unacceptable risks. 

But even as we’re stepping out into the stars, there are older crimes keeping some of us back. Quiet, hidden histories of atrocity that are slowly bulging back out from under the rug beneath which they’ve been swept. If people are courageous and hopeful, they can also be filled with selfishness and spite. And Dealbreaker shows us that. Shows us a humanity at war in its conception of itself. In the outward looking FTL-nauts looking to secure the species a place at the table, and the shadowy oligarchs behind the curtain, trying to get themselves that seat, and let everyone else get trampled over on the way there. Dealbreaker is our story, humanity’s, and it’s in the faces of its heroes and villains that we see glimpses of ourselves, shadowy figures in broken glass behind the characters eyes. 

Which is all a long winded way of saying that this is a sprawling, epic world, filled with stories, only some of which we’re privileged to know. But there’s so much here, in the rich and vivid detail, in the quiet moments between breaths, inm the broken skyscrapers covered in solar panels, in the FTL craft made of spit and duct tape, in the bright scalpels of monsters, and the slick patter of alien salesmen who definitely have a great deal for you. In the strikes and strokes of the social network made flesh, and in the whizzing simulacrum of the artificial intelligence community. It’s got a texture and heft to it which makes it feel true, which brings the world to mind, and lets you see and hear and breathe it in

The characters...well. Some of them are familiar faces, others less so. Frankie, of Gamechanger, now all grown up, and dealing with her trauma as best she can, is perhaps the closest thing to a protagonist. That said, there are other points of view - from AI, from aliens, and from some less than amicable others. But Frankie we know, at any rate, And she shines, she really does. From the first page, you can feel her anger bubbling away, feel her guilt pushing her in different directions. Feel the way she struggles to be good enough, fighting skirmishes against the demons of her own head, determined to save everyone in order to save herself. But she’s also fierce and proud, and filled with a love that burns inside and out. Her family, the close-knit polyamorous unit that helps shape her in the world, is warm and loving and has the sort of gently well-trodden affection of a relationship as comfortable as a well-worn boot. It has a joy to it, an acceptance that, again, makes it feel real. Frankie has her sharp edges, but she’ll fight for her family, and protect them, and be protected by them - perhaps despite herself. Seeing her grow over the course of the text is a joy, feeling her pain and sorrow and pleasure and happiness one word at a time. And seeing her shape herself under pressure, trying to be, if not the best of us, the best that she can be. Flawed? Definitely. A heroine? Absolutely. 

Maude is another voice worth mentioning, a survivor of the atrocities of Gamechanger, now part of Frankie’s family unit. Maude has her own issues - of trust and memory. Of caution, and betrayal, trying to define who she is whilst grappling with a past which seems to slide away as she reaches for it. Maude is wracked with her own pain, with her own internalised protection, with a need for trust and walls that she’s still looking down from, rather than demolishing. But her pain is raw and personal and sharp on the poage, and her struggles to be better, and her refusal to just be what other people want  her to be, are inspiring. Between them, this dynamic duo make every page they’re on just so much...fun to read, be it through smart banter, cunning plans, or straight up risk-taking arse kicking. Or, er, locusts. But we’ll say no more about that.

Anyway. Dealbreaker. It has everything really. A grand concept that sweeps out from the page to enfold you in huge issues with a personal, immediate context. Aliens! Betrayal! Personal crises. Love, death, old truths coming to light. And humanity, battling against the dark to be its own version of its best selves. It’s a story which makes you feel hope. And right now, that’s a powerful story indeed.Go and give it a try - you won’t regret it.

Back next week

 Honestly, we were too tired and stressed by everything this week to write a half decent review. So we’re taking the week off to let things calm down, and eat a bunch of ice cream. 

See you next week, and be kind to each other. 

Call of the Bone Ships - R.J. Barker

R.J. Barker’s work has been a breath of cool, fresh air across the fantasy scene for years. Their latest in the Tide Child series, Call of the Bone Ships, has a lot to love about it. Some eldritch, weird magic that seems to stand just at the edge of human understanding. Majestic and lethal cryptids. The sort of complex characterisation that will have you laugh out loud with a character one minute, and feel the steel barbs of their sorrowful tears in the next. A world filled with odd corners, intricate details, and soaring descriptions of wine-dark seas, thunderous waves and glorious, terrible craft that sail upon them. Yeah. The tl;dr right here is that if you read The Bone Ships and wondered if the sequel held up to the already very high standards of its predecessor - yes. The answer is yes. This is a story of blood in the water, of piratical boardings, of fights that start blade to blade and end edge to edge, one inch from disaster. It’s a story that reminds us that you can lose everything. That heroism has a price. But also of the necessity of virtue, the strength of it, and the value of pride and loyalty. If the ice-soaked sea is the stage, still it’s those upon it that make the story sing. 

And sing it does. A full throated roar in harmony, a melody that wraps compassion around friendship and sacrifice. This is a book that will grab you by the heart and by the guts, and not let go until it’s done. 

Our main perspective on this world come from Joron, a man who spent much of the previous book finding out how far it was to rock bottom, and then starting the long climb back up to the person he wants to be, inspired by the leadership of a Captain who gave him the opportunity to earn respect, earn trust, and change the world. Joron here is wiser, kinder, perhaps a bit more settled in his sense of self. The growing bonds between Joron and the crew whom he helps oversee are a delight to watch, built on countless small acts of humanity and friendship, backed by moments of heroism and heart-stopping action. Joron still carries his scars, but is learning to bear them a little better.  Still, the price of this is that now he has attachments, has people he cares about. Wher ebefore he might have simply accepted the worst under the black dog of depression, now he cares, wants respect, wants to build a life. And in becoming a better person, or at least one more whole, he’s also become more vulnerable. THe portrayal of a man damaged, often in over his head, and struggling with the vagaries of circumstance is beautifully done. It has the emotional rawness that makes it feel genuine, and a certain truth sears through the pain and the trust, the faith of Joron in his people and their acceptance of him. Mind you, it’s not all good news - Joron is going to find out the hard way that now he has more to lose, and this is a world quite keen to take it from him.

Speaking of which, the world remains as vivid as ever, as marvellous as ever, as terrifying and strange and wondrous as ever. There are still dragons stalking the crashing waves of a space defined by the spaces between islands. Humanity is still (with apologies to Pratchett) barely on the right side of the rising ape. Those who bear children not marked by the poisonous environment are still an aristocracy, and like any aristocracy, they still hold to their system of power. There’s oppression, and war, and, worst of all, politics. Oh yes, Joron has stepped into a (metaphorical) whirlpool.  Because this is a story filled with quiet intrigues. With betrayals. He’s a man whose seemingly sound footing in the world may be swept away, as we uncover the secrets, half truths and bloody bargains that help the Bern keep their iron grip on the levers of power. As we see how the powerless fare in a society structured to discard them. As the Guillaume, avian masters of magic, and mutilated slaves, reveal a little more of their secrets. As the dragons roar in the deep.

It’s hard, so very hard to talk about this book without spoiling it. So, forgive that digression. But think on this. The world drawn here is, at turns, one capable of displaying appalling atrocity and evoking true wonder. The people - Joron, and the crew of the Tide Child, misfits, miscreants, rebels all - are fiercely, searingly human. They live, love, hurt, bleed, and hope. They live the comedy and tragedy of our lives, cast upon an ocean swept by storms of magic. The same, but different. Different, but the same. They’re people, and damn good ones, at that (well...some of them!). And the story, well, it has its twists, and its turns, and you’ll be torn between inhaling each page to see what happens next,, and not wanting the book to end. It’s got everything - the grand, sweeping elements of an epic tale. Sea shanties. Boarding actions. Blood on the decks, and in the water. New secrets and old magic. But it’s also devastatingly, beautifully personal - with quiet moments, moments of honesty, moments of epiphany, times of betrayal and times of quietly powerful love. It’s a story that, once again, will not let you go - and one you won’t want to put down until it’s done

I certainly couldn’t. I miss the Tide Child and its crew already. I can only suggest that you join them on their journey. You won’t regret it.

Give Way To Night - Cass Morris

Give Way To Night is the second in Cass Morris’ “Aven Cycle”, the first of which I enjoyed immensely back when it came out. It combines a secondary world, alternate Roman Republic, lavishly furnished with rich detail, with some eye-popping magic and some fantastic characters. The tl;dr is that if any of those sound like something you’d enjoy, then this is a series you should already be reading. Frankly, I’d suggest you pick it up anyway, because the series is delightful, all the way from its closely observed Roman social mores, to the viscerally realised battle scenes, and back around to cut-throat politics, intermingled with warm friendships to make you smile, and romance to sear the heart, there’s something for everyone here.

Aven sits at the centre of its world. Rome, but one step to the left, Aven is a republic on the rise. Its senate believes they’re at the centre of the world. And why wouldn’t they? Aven’s gods - Juno, Mars, a familiar pantheon - clearly favour them. Aven is on the cusp of authority over much of the known world. And the city lives and breathes that truth. The question in that world, in the marble halls of the forum and the grime of the Suburra, is what that truth means. Whether the city should expand its influence, bring more of the world under its aegis, and accept change as a consequence alongside trade and wealth - or whether to shut itself away, isolate itself in the name of purity, hold fast to what it has, and let the rest of the world fend for itself. It’s an issue of identity which feels very contemporary, even embedded in the systems, institutions and personalities of an alternate Rome. From street to street, from Senate hall to darkened forest, Aven and its world are real, living, breathing places. The author really manages to capture a sense of place- -from the bustling urban metropolis of Aven, with its marble lined hallways and decrepit tenement blocks, to the isolated farms and small villages that drive an agrarian economy, to the wild lands beyond the reach of the legions, where unpleasant spirits and inimical tribes hold sway under lowering boughs. Even as the Aventine are our Roman analogues, still we see other perspectives - in both their allies and their enemies, both of whom clash not only in terms of arms, but culturally with the Aven; indeed, their unwillingness to assimilate, and the struggle of some tribes to assert their own identity (albeit with, er, unpleasant blood magic) is part of what drives the conflict for the story. This clash of ideology and identity is combined with an interest in the liminal spaces - the borders where changes can be made. Socially, yes - in the tribes that ally with the Aventine, and the Aventines that see the role of their city as part of a wider world, but also in a more concrete fashion; this is a world of gods, of magic, of mysticism and active spirits, as much as blood and iron. 

Incidentally, there’s rather a lot of that. The legions of Aven are on the march, coming to the aid of their allies in not-Spain. When the tribes and the legions meet, it’s often messy - and the battles are wonderful set pieces of tactics, magic and adrenaline. The crash of blood-fuelled berserkers again a shield wall thunders off the page. The world changes as we turn those pages, and the stakes are at once extremely high, and extremely personal. The visceral energy of combat is matched by the mystery and intrigue of investigations into a magical conspiracy at the highest levels of the Aventine seat of power. That strand is a compelling blend of mystery and magic, of betrayals, divided loyalties and stunning revelations.

The characterisation is top notch. Latona of the Vitelliae remains our central protagonist, a woman who is slowly coming out from under the shadow of her own trauma. Latona is growing more aware of her own strengths now, less willing to accept the word of others, to shrink into her own self. Instead, she’s reaching out to others, making connections and constructing a self of her own, one which is shaped by her past, perhaps, but not defined by it. Latona is clever, articulate, and above all, good - a heroine who does the right thing for the right reasons, or at least tries to. Watching her slowly unfurl, build a self confidence backed by actions, is a pure joy. That she kicks arse, holding fire and friendship in one hand, and spirit and righteousness in the other, is great too. Every time she appears on the page, Latona is a joy - and that she does so in the company of her family dynamics, likewise. We can see her speaking with her sisters, working through relationships shaped by year, and struggling with a failing marriage, as well as a father who isn’t quite sure who she really is. This is a woman who has lived a life, and her life is a thing all its own, of texture, weight, sorrow and joy. 

Part of Latona’s changes is her budding romance with Sempronius, the general currently leading legions into a maelstrom of blood magic and madness. Sempronius remains fun to watch, as he shuffles pieces around like they’re on a chessboard, parts of his agenda still uinclear, but his essential humanity and decency still very much visible. If he seems pale beside the pure energy of the Vitelliae women, that is not to his detriment - the Vitelliae each bring a presence to the page, and make for a wonderful read.

Which is what I’d say about this story of conspiracy, murder, epic battles and marvellous, mysterious magic. It’s a wonderful read, and you should definitely give it a try.

The Ikessar Falcon - K.S. Villoso

The Ikessar Falcon is the follow up to K.S. Villoso’s excellent The Wolf of Oren Yaro. It follows up immediately from the events of the first book, and remains centred on Queen Talyien of Oren-Yaro.Isolated from her kingdom, surrounded by foes and traitors, Tali has fought her way from one disaster, one site of carnage to the next, trying to reconcile her duty to her kingdom, her love for her son, and her own needs.Now she takes a step out onto a wider stage, setting out to return to a kingdom which may not welcome her at all. And it seems likely that things are going to get bloody along the way.

This is Tali’s story. A story of a young woman living under the crushing weight of expectation. Of someone whose family casts such a shadow, leaves such a weight, that she is defined by others before she knows herself who she is. Tali’s father ripped the kingdom apart in a war he saw as necessary, then raised a daughter to realise his ambitions. Is Tali a queen? In the ceremonial sense, perhaps. But she can also be seen as the last blade of a dead conqueror, shaped by his hand to serve his agenda beyond the grave. But Tali is also her own woman, someone who thinks of honour and duty, of service and war - but not always in the same way as her father. Tali is an unknown variable, a paper boat cast on rough seas, trying to shape a safe harbour. 

As a character study, Talis journey is a flawless gem. Unlike Tali herself, whose flaws are as manifest as her better qualities. Tali is a woman trying to break free of the rails of circumstance. Of the bounds that duty and family place on her horizons. But at the same time, she is shaped by those expectations, by those needs. She can not rip herself from the social fabric in which she has been crafted, but cannot survive the events within it as she is. And so we have a conflicted woman: one part politician, deploying a lethal wit to uncover the schemes of her enemies, one part deadly warrior, willing to cross blades for a slight, and to face down five or six men alone - and win. And if those aspects are not enough, there’s the more vulnerable, intimate part of her. The part which struggles to give the woman behind the mask, behind the armour of expectation, social nicety and history room to breathe. That last part humanises Tali, defines her with a raw honesty and searing humanity, gives her a texture and context outside of heroines and villainesses. A scorned wife, an embattled mother, trying to save home and country, see her son and untangle her feelings for, among others, her ex-husband, Tali is a bit of a mess. A genuine, conflicted, brave and struggling mess. And she wears a face like armour, and, well, also regular armour - but the bitch-queen is a woman, a person, even as the person is contorted around the needs of the roles she is wearing, has no choice but to wear.. This is a portrait of a woman under stress, meeting adversity with strength and courage, while carrying heavy weights, and it has an authenticity, a truth to its voice which will have you turning every page with heart in mouth, to see what happens next.

That it happens in a wider world than we’ve seen before now is another joy. Here is Oren Yaro, and the sprawling counties around it. Each shaped by their Warlords, by their histories of struggle and brief pauses of something like pace. This is a land unquiet and wounded, but not broken. One whose woes are not limited to the continual internecine bickering, the insurmountable pride of its purported rulers - but one where other, darker things have begun to slither in the shadows. We learn a little of the past, of the history of the war Tali’s father began, and why. We see the broken stumps that remain of the Oren Yaro dragon towers. And we find ourselves among the wondrous, the magical both fair and foul. There are so many moving parts, in a world where Tali is a critical cog. There are schemes within schemes, wizards performing diabolical acts, and warlords making power plays. And smaller, quieter, perhaps more important people, living their lives in the shadow of ruined towers and squabbling nobles - selling fish and getting by. Still, there are wonders and horrors alongside the prosaic - monsters and dragons, oh my. And it all feels deeply real.

In the end, this is a fabulous work, filled with truth and wonder, with a core of humanity which makes its voice feel powerful and honest in each breath. Go give the series a try.