Dark Run - Mike Brooks

Dark Run is a feisty space opera, with a layer of grit overlaying a much larger sense of charm. 

It’s set in what feels like a not-intolerably distant future, after the discovery of faster-than-light drive has sent humankind on a diaspora to the stars. As a result, we’re shown a rather large variety of different locations in the universe. There’s half-terraformed worlds, where air is rationed, and everyone lives under a dome, or under several thick feet of rock – a feeling of claustrophobia is evoked, characters and reader always seeming to watch their heads – and their backs. 

In a stark contrast to that setting, there’s Earth, now more of a tourist destination and government centre. There’s allusions to ongoing low level conflicts between various political blocs across human-occupied space, but all the politicking still seems to happen on Earth. The impression is one of marble halls and closeted power cliques. Outside of these, there’s a whole swathe of other locations – frozen asteroids, grimy and glitzy spaceports, and more than a few spacecraft. 

What really stands out though is that each location feels different. They’re not just one-note places, but feel like fully realised parts of a larger ecosystem implied within the prose. The locations are matched by the somewhat vague backgrounds presented by the characters within it – we learn scraps about the setting through dialogue, through casual asides, from internal monologues and reminiscences. It’s never used to beat the reader over the head, but the feeling is one of a living world, one with some of the shine knocked off, one not too unlike our own – and that feeling makes it very easy to invest in the setting, and the characters within it.

The characters are also quite well done. The narrative focus is on the wonderfully named starship captain Ichabod Drift, and his merry crew of misfits. Even as the text opens, it’s clear they’re a modestly amoral bunch of smugglers, runaways, and people with something to hide, taking on whichever job happens to pay well, without much regard for legality. The basic trope has been done before (most notably by Firefly), but the author manages to breathe new life into it with Ichabod Drift. The captain is a smooth talking charmer who would much rather talk his way out of trouble than get into a shootout – amusingly, this exact trait also seems rather likely to get him into trouble. Much like the rest of the crew, he has a past he doesn’t want to talk about, at least as the book begins, but he makes for an engaging and amusing protagonist, one whose sensibly cynical and wry look onto the world made me chuckle, and was very easy to read.

The rest of the crew are perhaps not served quite as well, though some more than others. There’s the peppy ingénue of a hacker, the grim faced stoic gun-arms, the pilot, and the engineer. One of the gun-hands is a towering Maori, and he manages to grab a fair bit of screen time, and actually provides the most in-depth explanation of his own character in a scene which is both perfectly pitched and curiously affecting. The hacker also gets some room, growing a few calluses over her moral centre through the course of the book; that said, the remainder of the crew are perfectly enjoyable on a surface level – there’s some excellent repartee, and the author manages to wrap the entire crew up in a sense of camaraderie – but it would have been nice to get to know them better On the other hand, this is a book where ones past is jealously guarded – so perhaps we’ll see that deeper exploration of the rest of the cast in following books.

From a plot point of view, the narrative starts with a bang, and, if I’m honest, doesn’t really let up thereafter. There’s a real sense of pressure, of time limits, impressed on the characters by the narrative – and as they race against time, the reader is pulled along with them. As is ever the case, what starts off as a simple delivery job quickly spirals out of control and becomes something else entirely. I do have some complaints – there’s a few coincidences in the last third or so of the book which seemed a touch implausible, and the dénouement doesn’t seem to quite gel with the rest of the text – but it’s a snappy story, and one which left me turning pages in an effort to see what was going to happen next. 

Overall then, Dark Run is a solid entry in the space opera field; it has a setting with a feeling of depth, which I’d love to see more of. Characters which, when given room to show themselves off, are fascinating, and are believable and entertaining otherwise; and a story which rockets from drama to drama, leaving the reader breathless. At the end of the day, it’s a lot of fun, and as such, worth reading.

Interstitial - Dark Run, and more!

Next week will see a review of Mike Brook's jaunty space opera, 'Dark Run', and a collection of short fiction by the much lauded Hannu Rajaniemi.

Two of Swords (Part Three) - K.J. Parker

Two of Swords is the new serialised novel by K.J. Parker. The first three 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 parts each week, and then review each new part in the month where it becomes available.

The third part of Parker’s serialised novel shifts the scope a little. We’re moved away from the broad sweeps of warfare, the stumbling confusion of conscripts and lower echelon troops – instead, our perspective settles in higher society. There’s discussion of politics, of the reasons that the central conflict exists. Away from the sharp end shown in the first two parts, there’s a sense of shifting currents in a largely static event, a cold war with hot edges. On the other hand, whilst there’s less interest in large scale battles, this section has a keener focus on small scale murder.

The characters continue to be typical Parker. The protagonist in particular comes off very well, as alluded to above. There’s perhaps less strength in the supporting cast of characters than there was before, but on the other hand, they have less immediate effect, largely serving as givers or receivers of orders – they do get to keep the wry dialogue that always makes Parker a pleasure to read, but this section really is focused on the central character.

Our protagonist for this section of the serial appears to act as something of a mobile troubleshooter. Sent to key points in the conflict, to preserve lives, or to end them – really, to do whatever needs doing, in whatever way her rather opaque and obfuscated masters will allow.  Parker has always managed to craft believable female characters, and this one is no exception. The reader is given a view on an entirely pragmatic individual, aware of their own skills and competence; not driven to succeed as much as a consummate professional. At the same time, there are touches of wry humour running through the viewpoint, observations of the character of others which made me crack a smile and chuckle occasionally – they help to humanise the protagonist. Other little touches – a n interest in antiquarian books, a duel of words with a priest that is also a confession – help realise that humanity, and turn what could have been a paper thin plot device into a living, breathing person.

The setting changes a bit as well – gone are the muddy hovels and barracks of the first two instalments. Instead the reader is subjected to the airy marble halls of governance. And the muddy trellis of governance. And the dark bedrooms of governance. It’s all a touch more rarefied, though no less brutal for all of that. This section seems to play on the theme of battlefields a little, drawing comparisons between the blood spattered massacres of the first sections and the cold slice of politics in this one. At any rate, the difference in setting doesn’t detract from it – Parker’s on fine form here,  breathing life into formal buildings and large social events, as well as (and often alongside) clandestine meetings in dark corners.  The broadening of the social view after the first two sections is intriguing – the reader is getting a lot more context on the world, although a lot of it is surrounded by layers of deliberate camouflage. Parker is bringing the reader’s attention to the wider world outside the current narrative, and it makes for interesting reading.

From a narrative perspective, there’s quite a lot going on here – political manoeuvring, personal clashes, what might, at a push, be taken for a touch of romance – and the occasional murder. It’s a little slower paced than other instalments in some areas, but the pacing picks up quickly for some extremely tense action scenes.

This is perhaps the first section which doesn’t work as well as a stand alone story. It’s still readable as one, but you lose some of the valuable context from the first two sections. That said, of the three currently available sections, it’s probably the strongest as part of the ensemble. If you’ve not read the first two parts, I’d advise picking those up first –but if you’ve read those and enjoyed them, this part certainly hit (and crested) the already high bar set by its predecessors. 

Interstitial - Two of Swords (Part Three)

Tomorrow has another in my ongoing series of reviews of K.J. Parker's new serialised novel, Two of Swords. This week we're on to part three, which has a bit more of a political theme than the first two sections - but is just as intriguing to read.

The Iron Ship - K.M. McKinley

The Iron Ship is a startling debut. It’s full of nuanced characters and complex relationship dynamics, in a world which is made entirely believable through some very effective prose The story draws on this set of complex characters and believable world to create a very compelling narrative. I went in not knowing what to expect, and have to admit that I was absolutely blown away.

Starting from the top, then, the world. This is a previously Tolkien-esque world, filled with magic, disturbing supernatural creatures, fallen empires, gods, hereditary nobility, the living dead – all the trappings one might expect f an epic fantasy. But it’s also a world on the cusp of industrialisation. New money is shattering the old elites. Some of the more human-esque creatures operate in society as semi-indentured labour. Gods are cast down and, at least in some cases, forgotten.  The living dead are occasionally used as manpower.  It’s a world in the liminal space between the old world and the new. 

This does lead to a bit of culture shock for the reader, as they are relentlessly moved between locations, each more fantastical than the last, and introduced to a sprawling cast of characters. The world is speckled with marvellously bizarre creations – a castle built on stone that floats, situated in the middle of the sea. A fort perched on the edge of a defile, made entirely of armoured glass. A ragged necropolis used for the rites of summoning the unquiet dead. The descriptions are baroque, filled with incidental detail, building an entirely believable milieu for the reader. Everything feels like a blend of high fantasy and the Victorian era, but that’s underselling it – McKinley has created a genuinely special setting here.

Alongside the setting are the characters. The narrative largely centres around five sibling members of the same family, as each fills their own social role. There’s a lot of introductory detail here. Each sibling gets their own viewpoint, and each feels like they have a unique voice – the tormented playwright, the sister driven to become an industrialist, the disgraced military officer, all feel distinct from each other, each with their own agenda, their own needs. McKinley does however also introduce a common strand to their characters – each stands beside the others as family. There’s an unflinching examination of family dynamics, of the small cruelties and blazing arguments that tear families apart or bring them together, and it’s done with a keen eye for how a large family works.

Alongside this main character set are a whole pool of supporting cast members. Again, the reader is rather barraged with names and descriptions, but as the story continues, and the characters begin to fill their roles, it becomes easier to keep a handle on who’s who. McKinley really has created a vast world here, populated by individuals who, even mentioned in passing, feel like people (if not humans, per se).

The plot is scattered across all the different locations brought up in the setting; the typical focus on each of the sibling characters means that the reader has some focus, some desire to see characters succeed or fail. They’re opposed, at various points, by petty villains, institutional bureaucracy, sabotage, angry gods, and downright creepy supernatural occurrences.  Whilst the plot is interesting enough, it really feels like this book is building up toward a denoument in other books of the series. 

As a whole, it feels like an interesting, and at times even compulsive narrative, but it is slowly paced, perhaps deliberately slow,  and occasionally loses momentum. On the other hand, when firing on all cylinders, the struggle to, for example, build and launch the iron ship of the title makes for extremely compulsive reading. There’s a lot of politics and discussion heavy plot if you enjoy that sort of thing, and a fair few bloody and often deeply strange battle scenes if those are your preference. The plot feels like it’s going somewhere, but I don’t think we’re there yet. That said, the reader is effectively immersed in the world over the course of this book, and it makes for fascinating reading.

With that in mind, I’d say that The Iron Ship is one of the most interesting stories, in one of the more fascinating worlds that I’ve read so far this year. If you’re prepared to invest in a vast, in-depth world field with interesting characters, then this book will definitely reward your perseverance. Thoroughly enjoyable, and very much worth reading.

Interstitital - The Iron Ship and Two of Swords (Part Three)

Been reading the rather good debut of K.M. McKinley, 'The Iron Ship', and will have a review of that rather sprawling opus out tomorrow. Later in the week, we're on to the third part of K.J. Parker's 'Two of Swords'.

Two of Swords (Part Two) - K.J. Parker

Two of Swords is the new serialised novel by K.J. Parker. The first three 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 parts each week, and then review each new part in the month where it becomes available.

The second part of K.J. Parker’s Two of Swords starts where the first ended; however, it mixes things up a little bit by switching the viewpoint on the reader. We move from a focus on a farmboy-turned-archer to another member of his village militia – this one a tad more suspicious, a smidge more unreliable, and infinitely more unlikable. Where the first section was a journey novel, this chapter is more static – we’re shown a protagonist looking to survive and establish themselves in a society which doesn’t care much about them, and trying to survive by any means necessary.

The prose continues to be in Parker’s characteristic wry and dry style. It’s very densely written as well – there’s almost always a layer of subtext under the initial meaning. This applies to both the dialogue and the descriptions – the protagonist for this section is a bit more observant and quite a lot more cynical than the one from the initial chapter, and this is displayed in a more focused set of descriptions, and a finer reading of individual expressions and motivations. Parker manages to make the descriptions both vivid and believable – the picture painted is one of military squalor, mud, and uncaring institutions populated by incompetents. The physical descriptions are drawn through the prose, but the characters, equally well crafted, are largely seen through the eyes of the protagonist – their personalities seeping through the lens of his perception in dialogue and interpretations of their actions.

Speaking of dialogue, Parker’s has always been a joy to read, and there’s no change here. There’s a certain understated dark humour underlying all of the character interaction, and each piece of dialogue has clearly been thought about, and pitched appropriately for the character. Sometimes it’s a bit opaque, but this seems to be part of the narrative, cloaking a wider meaning in a feeling of obscurity, forcing the reader to piece together subtext and layers of meaning – it’s a surprisingly easy read, but gives up more to the reader if considered again.

The plot takes a different turn – as is probably to be expected with a different protagonist. The reader is shown a bit more of the previously mentioned ‘craftsmen’, which gives a bit more context to some of the mysteries from the first chapter. I wouldn’t say it’s fast-paced, exactly – there’s a lot of discussion, a lot of sidelong glances and more intrigue than in the previous instalment, and perhaps a little less widespread violence. But while I wasn’t flipping desperately through pages to find out what happened, this slower paced approach was just as effective, and just as effective – I may not have torn through the pages, but I couldn’t put it down once I’d started, being absorbed into the nuances and intrigues.

Overall then, this second segment in Two of Swords is at least on a par with the first. It has Parker’s trademark characterisation, and a sense of a wider world which is slowly spinning out of control, matched with some truly excellent dialogue and narrative at a personal level which is extremely compelling. If you’ve already read the first section, I’d urge you to give this one a shot. If you haven’t, you could read this as a standalone piece, but I’d recommend starting with the first chapter.