Chaos Terminal - Mur Lafferty

Lets talk about Chaos Terminal. It's the second in Mur Lafferty's Midsolar Murders series, and if you ask me, that pun alone is worth the price of admission. The first instalment introduced us to Mallory Viridian, a woman who always seems to be around when a murder takes place, and who always seems able to solve them. Getting tired of a constant cavalcade of dead bodies in her wake, she now lives on a space station, surrounded by aliens, most of whom don't drop dead around her. A few of them do eat people, or, from time to time, turn into sentient battlemechs made of rock, but that's a small price to pay, relatively speaking. Unfortunately for Mallory, the people of Earth have finally been allowed to send a proper ambassador out to talk to the different aliens in the galaxy, starting with her location. And they're on their way - which probably means someone is about to die, again.

The focus of the story remains Mallory, a protagonist whose business-like public face is backed up by vulnerability, honesty and an intense, well, humanity. After the events of the first book in the series, Mallory seems a little more settled in herself. No longer spooking at casual interactions,, not immediately assuming the worst, not living a hand to mouth existence in fear of what she might make happen next. Having said that, she's not action-girl-superhero either. Mallory Viridian is a woman who tries to think things through, figure things out as best she can, and do the right thing. If she's a little less internally conflicted about who she is and what she is now, that helps - but she's still the same thoughtful investigator she's always been, pulling on threads and connections, trying to see what's what and who's who to who. And she still has a certain emotional fragility to her, a life built on loss and murder having not really helped with that. This new Mallory is going to have to adjust though, because her past is, quite literally, going to catch up with her. A shuttle full of new people, well, new humans, form Earth is here. And, of course, a lot of them know her, and a lot of them can't stand each other.  But whether the new Mallory will sink or swim when faced with past friends and enemies thought long gone is another matter - and while I won't spoil it for you, I'll say this: if Mallory comes out at the end of this story, she'll be a very different person to the one we see on page one. And you can rely on Mur Lafferty to make us care about it. To feel the raw emotion, feel the truth of Mallory's existence, the small joys and different pains that make her life a,, well, life.

The story itself starts gently, as people start to arrive on Station Eternity, Mallory's new home. And people start to leave, too. And we're treated to some wonderful descriptions of truly alien environs, physiologies, and attitudes. That sense for the alien but familiar, and that feel for the deeply strange, have made this series one with a depth of imagination and invention in its worldbuilding that is hard to beat. As things escalate, as alarms start to go off, both mental and physical, that world seems in danger of crashing down. The rising tension and the steadily beating pace will keep you turning pages; just one more, to see how they get out of this one. Just one more, to see what happens next. Just one more, to see if this suspect is a killer. Just one more, to see who the guilty parties are. And it's three in the morning and the end was worth it but damned if you don't want the next book right now. 

And that, right there, that feeling was what I got when I finished this book, and why it's a book I think you all should hurry up and read.

Saevus Corax Deals With The Dead - K.J. Parker

Saevus Corax Deals With the Dead is the latest from K.J. Parker, and the start of a new series from them, to boot. Not to speak out of school, but it’s another solid entry, bringing the trademark wry wit blended with occasional violence, entwined with a story with as many twists and turns as a…twisty, turny thing. I’ll be the first to admit that I was never quite sure where the tale was going to take me next, but that I absolutely enjoyed every second of finding out. 

As is typical for Parker, we have a protagonist whom we might charitably describe as “morally grey”, or less charitably as “a bit of an arsehole”. Saevus Corax, for it is he, makes up for it with both a bounty of charm, and a voice which is razor sharp, horribly cynical, and unforgiving of his own flaws. Saevus Corax may be an arsehole, but he knows that, and makes no apologies. Well, he might make an apology, but he’s still going to steal your horse. Or possibly hit you over the head and take your boots. Hard to say, really. For all that though, Saevus Corax is a charmer. He’s someone who likes to talk, who can make the glibbest lie seem plausible. And, in fairness to him, he’s also got a shiny trap of a mind, full of gears and wheels. Because you can always see him falling from one crisis to another, but what you can’t see is whether that particular crisis is also something he’s made into an opportunity. It is, to be honest, tricky to get one around on Saevus Corax, and he’d be the first to tell you so. It helps that he has a fun supporting cast, but if I’m honest, this is largely a one person show, a man thrown into the firmament by the vagaries of chance and his own survival strategies.

As usual with Parker, that firmament may end up being rather bigger than you expect. There’s a lot of world on display here, all of it clearly precision-crafted. We can wade through mud and blood and bodies, digging for teeth, straightening arrowheads, and asking questions like “Saevus Corax, would you say battlefield salvage is a good gig?”. Or we can approach lavish courts, and regal suites with high and oddly barred windows, to learn about how one nation  survives as a counterbalance between conflicting empires. We can talk about the economics of murder, the economics of nation-states, and how those probably aren’t quite the same thing. The sense of history is always there, in the grime and the dirt and the banal humanity amongst the grandeur, and the surprising divinity of the humane amongst the grime. It’s a sprawling world, from sea battles to mud puddles and back around again, and it’s a world that makes sense to itself, both immediately and on a larger scale. Each character is taking sensible steps, and together, they’re changing the weft and warp of their world - and occasionally we may pull our vantage back and be able to see that. Or perhaps not, this time. In any case, the world is richly imagined, vividly described, and I’m rather grateful I don’t live there.

I already alluded to the story, and honestly, that’s all I can do without giving something away. It begins on a battlefield, but inside the first twenty or so pages, we;re having expectations upended, and truths turned into lies (and, perhaps, back again later).  The story is at once personal, the story of Saevus Corax and how he got where he is, and epic in the sense that it’s about a world changing around a focal point, around central events - or just by chance. It’s a story that blends those two perfectly, makes you care, and is going to make you keep turning pages until you’re done. K.J. Parker at his best, and that’s saying something.

Amongst Our Weapons - Ben Aaronovitch

Amongst Our Weapons is the ninth (ninth!) full novel in the PC Peter Grant series, in which a hapless young police constable has an unexpected encounter  with a ghost, and then finds his life very rapidly going out of control. He's since dealt with eh dead, with malevolent mages, with incipient AI's, goblin markets, the London Underground system, and, most worryingly of all, the byzantine bureaucracy of the London Metropolitan Police. Along the way he's made and lost both enemies and friends, and the Peter Grant at the start of this book is starting to look a little frayed around the edges. No wonder, given how busy he's been.

That said, if the Peter Grant of this story is quieter, more contemplative perhaps, he's still going to be familiar to long-term, fans. There's the low-grade snark that anyone working a professional role exhibits, albeit given a police-centric spin. There's the digressions into London history and architecture, which are always good fun (and usually plot relevant). And there's the raw, self-aware honesty that makes Peter work as a protagonist. He approaches his own emotions and thoughts with an enthusiastic energy which makes it possible to take him seriously, while adding in enough banter and touches of humanity that he seems like a person. In this case, a person soon to be on the receiving end of fatherhood, mulling how that will affect him. But still recognisably PC Grant - older, nominally wiser, but still ticking along, alongside the longer-running supporting cast. I'm not sure I'd want a new reader to start here, but if they did, I think that Peter's internal dialogue, his way of seeing the world, would remain as powerful a unique voice as it ever was (and it's always nice to see BAME representation, too.) As noted, the gang is largely back together here, from the taciturn, old-school Nightingale, who drives a jag, wears a suit, gives off a genial uncle vibe, and once drilled a fireball through a Tiger tank, to the various rivers of London - from haughty Tyburn on down - and back to the blustery, take-no prisoners Seawoll, whose nice tidy murder investigations keep getting interrupted by "weird bollocks. There's a sprawling group by this time, and we'll all have our favourites. I think most of them are here somewhere, though it does sometimes feel like they're spread a bit thin by sheer weight of numbers. Still, an entertaining crowd, all the same.

Incidentally, some parts of this story dare to trespass outside the borders of London. They even involve going into the unknown hinterlands of The North. There, wyrd smiths ply an ancient occult trade, ghosts haunt the moors, and occasionally, someone attempts to do a rather supernaturally tinged murder. It's lovely to diverge our location a little; Aaronovitch's love of London folklore is obvious, but it's a joy to see that beam of inquiry digging around in the rest of the UK, which certainly deserves it.  But worry not, because there's also plenty of lore of London to be had, and in any event, the geography itself carries a sense of weight, of place, in both cases. That is to say, they have enough flavour and texture, personal and descriptive, to make them feel real. I will note that nine novels and a great many novellae and comic collections into the series, it sometimes feels like I'm missing contest; some relationships on the page work well enough, but feel like they'd have more resonance if I'd read a comic or two, for example. Still, the relationships work as they are, for me - though  I might not start here as a first time reader, as an old hand, they're charming and comfortable.

The story I shan't spoil, though those of you with a working knowledge of Monty Python may venture to a guess or two of the focus. It does however trot along well enough. Clues and motives are laced through the story, available to the alert reader (and occasionally, to the regular reader, like me).The story pulls at the roots of its genre here, building a murder investigation from the ground up, walking us through procedure, revelation by revelation on the search for truth. And, to be fair, it's not above the occasional swift pivot either, to keep you on your toes.

After nine books, that there are any surprises at all are a joy; and also after nine books, you know broadly what you're getting. This is a smart, funny murder book, with a splash of British history, and a soupcon of magic. If you're a series regular, this is worth reading - and if you're not, you can always give it a try.

Back next week!

 Sorry gang, we're all sick here - back next week!

Station Eternity - Mur Lafferty

Mur Lafferty has been on my list of writers to watch since her Six Wakes, a tale of clones, murder and people at their best (and worst) blew me away a year or two ago. She's done other work, including top-tier podcasting, a Star Wars novelisation, and has a couple of complete series under her belt, in different brackets. Which is to say, it seems like Lafferty can write anything, and write it well.

Which brings us to Station Eternity. On the surface this is an intriguing sci-fi murder mystery, which takes human fish out of water Mallory and Xan, and asks them to find a killer in an entirely alien space, in a milieu filled with walking rock people, sentient wasps, and all sorts of other people who are still coming to terms with the idea that humans are sentient, and not just walking bags of squishy noise. They have a smattering of clues, they can think fast on their feet, and they'd better, because it's entirely possible their lives are on the line. And their secrets, which might be worse. I say on the surface it's this. It's also this  in the detail as well. The central mystery and mayhem and murder ticks along with the precision of a swiss watch, if the watch were filled with misdirection, outright lies, dark pasts, and more than a splash of blood. It's beautifully designed to keep the reader guessing, while giving them just enough information that it doesn't feel like they're guessing blindly. This is a story aware of history, deftly weaving strands of Poirot and Midsomer Murders into a broader tapestry of science fiction. 

It is, however, also a book about connection. About the way humans, or people in general, reach out to those around them and try to make something of it. Reach past loneliness and selfishness and grief to put a little light in the universe. Mallory and Xan are most of the humans on the sentient Eternity, but that doesn't seem to slow them down, as they both live in separately splendid isolation, but also build up connections in the weft of things, looking to aliens to have a common understanding that some humans might struggle with. This is a story about the way people can connect to each other, for good or ill. And that is, of course, rather convenient in a murder mystery. Everyone is a suspect. Everyone is connected. There's always a story. 

I must confess to having a soft spot for Mallory, a woman who has spent her life running away from connections. Mostly because everywhere she goes, someone seems to get murdered. Not, in a lovely nod to Cabot Cove, by Mallory. But she's always on the scene when someone turns up dead, and she's always solving the murder well before the police arrive. Now she's on Eternity, where people seem less prone to dropping dead wherever she goes. Mallory is tough and fragile at once, resting on assumptions of how things are, bathed in her own tragedy, while still kicking the traces. And well she might, because it's possible the situation on Eternity, where she feels she can live safely, is about to be upended. In any case, Mallory is a fun protagonist. Thoughtful, sometimes brittle or abrupt, she's always working to do the right thing, if she can work out what it is, while shouldering and walking past her own trauma. She's vulnerable and tough and open and a mask all at once, and so a joy to read.

The same is true of the story itself, which I very much shan't spoil. But it starts big, and only gets bigger as the Catherine Wheel of Consequences begins to spin/. As Mallory investigates, and uncovers secrets in unlikely places, even her own heart. It's a mystery that had me turning to over in my mind trying to figure it out, and grinning with every revelation as the mystery, slowly unlocked. This is a good sci-fi book, a good mystery book, and a great blend of the two, and perfect for fans of both. Do yourself a favour and check it out.

A Sword of Bronze and Ashes - Anna Smith Spark

Anna Smith Spark is, in certain circles, a legend. The "Queen of Grimdark" brought us the dark, metal, unspeakably violent and yet beautifully written Empires of Dust series. It was raw and human and bloody and wonderful, and I think I spoke about each book in the series in increasingly glowing terms. 

And now, a new novel, A Sword of Bronze and Ashes. Something different, a folk horror fairytale. Still with the same poetry, the same multi-layered prose coursing the wine-dark sea of liquid prose. Still with the same sense of humanity, both at our best and, oh my, at our worst. But also with a focus somewhere different. This is a book about family, about one woman and her journey into the future to deal with the consequences of the past, and her daughters, and how they have to grapple with a legacy which could define them if they let it. And it's wrapped up in a story, a journey that reads like a dream spiked with flashes of nightmare, our cast moving between spaces, between the grounded world around them, the soaring towers of years past, and the bare copper knives of the not-quite yet, all at once. The prose is liquid, tumbling rocky thoughts over in your mind, the story prying them loose, to see what lies beneath. And that's without getting into what it does to the cast.

Kanda is, for want of a better word, our protagonist. A woman who, three children later, quietly whiles away her time on a farm, looking after animals, baling hay, and generally living a quiet life. What Kanda did before she looked after animals and children is another matter. Unfortunately for her, or at least for her quiet life, her past is about to catch up to her in a big way. Because the world Kanda inhabits is as much myth and story as it is known to us. While she pulls in corn and feeds livestock, she speaks with the dead who line the doorways of buildings, keeping them safe from harm. And wards against things roaming in the night, skipping between realities like we would use a revolving door. 

Because the darkest dreams of humanity are out here, and very real, in this world where myth and story are another context entwined within reality. Kanda's world is a saga, a song,  because it can't be anything else. Kanda is brutally prosaic, a woman who is sometimes drunk, also sometimes hungover, often tired, with an intimate understanding of violence. But in the past, she has been a dream of something more, something which soared, even while the dream in which it lived began to collapse under its own weight. As to what and who else Kanda is, that you'll have to see for yourself. But she is solid in her roles, all of them. A fierce and weighty presence whose sheer determination makes the page and the story and the words wrap around her. The dream she was and the person she is may not be the same, but Kanda is utterly real, to us, as well as to everyone on the page. It's fantastic incidentally, to see her portrayal in the now of the book, a tired woman with three children and a husband, forced back into metaphorical harness by her desire to protect them and keep them safe; and they're there with her and she with them, and the family dynamic has all the bickering and affection and poison and joy of, well, a family. It's something we often sacrifice for tales of battle-maidens in shiny armour, and seeing this, a family story, makes my heart sing a little.

Because this is a family story. Kanda's daughters are varying degrees of young; and it's wonderful that they're all so different. In the way they talk, in the way they react, in what they believe. But in their strengths, in the mistakes they make and the ways they try to fix them, in the passions they feel and the responsibilities they feel they can bear, they're able to find a way to bind themselves together.

And the story. Well, you know I don't spoil those. But it's a very concrete as well as a metaphorical journey. Diving into the past to see how Kanda got where she is now, to build a context for why things are happening. And walking with her through the now, inch by inch as she pulls her family toward, if not safety, a conclusion, a sense of catharsis. It's a story that comes with tension so thick you can less cut it with a knife than actively chew on it - as well as your nails - waiting ot see how thing splay out. And it has the sumptuous, glittering romance of a chivalric folktale, and the mud and blood and disaster of one too. This is a story that pulls no punches, and in fact probably has a stiletto secreted in one hand and a broadsword nonchalantly twirling from the other. It's a story you'll be up at 4AM trying to finish.

So is it good? Hell yes. Should you read it? Hell yes. This is another winner for Anna Smith Spark, and a story you owe it to yourself to read as soon as possible.

Back next week!

 We're on holiday this week, so no review today. Review next week, when we're back!