Reviews

To mangle a footballing cliché, this was a book of two halves.

It took me a while to get into, but by the time I was deep in the backend of the book, I was hooked.

Why the initial reservations?

The main character grated. Eskara is angry. She’s been dealt a bad hand, is young and struggling with what she’s gained and lost. She’s easy not to like. I could deal with this. What niggled was her telling me how unlikable she was. She did this a lot but there was no need – her actions told their own story. One or two moments of self-observation would have been enough. Which dovetails into…

The ‘wisdom’ quotes. I feel churlish pointing this out. I’m a sucker for this these and the Razor’s Edge is full of pearls. My problem? They were overused. Their power waned when they came at me too fast. They are good, they would have been better rarer. Then again, it may just be that this swine of a reader couldn’t appreciate them.

The swearing. See point two. (And one.)

Having spent three points saying ‘there was too much of X, Y and Z’, now I want more of D: dialogue. Done well, which I know this author can do from his Best Laid Plans books, it can keep things moving. In the first half of Along the Razor’s Edge there is a lot of digging while the characters get where they need to be. During this section, I would’ve preferred more drive which dialogue may have helped with.

The second half of the book did away these things.

Eska was still angry but she wasn’t telling me how angry she was so frequently. Similarly, there were fewer ‘wisdom quotes’. They were presented more subtly when they were there and, as a result, were more powerful. The same goes for profanity. There was more talking, too.

Then there were other things that came into their own in the second half.

The narration from the point of view of an older Eska added a good perspective. It layered on depth and intrigue, hints of what is to come.

The flashbacks that illuminated parts of her and Josef’s past and linked them to their current situation. (And, I suspect, introduced characters we will see more of.)

The non-human races. The Imps. The Damned. Ssserakis. (Which is a great nnname.*) They added a grim dimension to the world.

On that note, It would have been nice to mix some of the other non-human races from other countries in with the general population of the Pit. In a world where such people exist, I sometimes wondered how segregated the Pit would really be.

The flight through the underground city. Or what in my head was the ‘Moria’ section. (That’s meant positively.) The pieces that had been shuffled around in the first half of the book now had time to vent: lust, anger, regret, violence, duplicity, love and bittersweet tenderness. It was all there and the book lifted.

MINOR SPOILER ALERT!!!

The characters developed and came into their own. Eska’s infatuation with Isen being very well done (especially the details of how that relationship climaxed*). Her relationship with Josef was similarly good. Though at the end I do wonder why he wasn’t armed with more ‘sources’ and if Yorin got off easy.

MINOR SPOILER ALERT OVER!!!

There was even sight of a man’s cock and balls, which makes a refreshing change in a genre where the only nudity is usually non-male and there are breasts and ‘boob-plate’ a plenty.

Finally, I need to mention the magic system. It strikes me as something that may have arisen from a typo – ‘sourcerer’ vs. sorcerer. Regardless of the origin, it’s good. The way those powers are wielded is creative (again, more evident in the second half) and ‘sources’ have a great way of limiting those powers. (Though not for those with a weak stomach.*)

I appreciate that the second half of the book wouldn’t exist without the first, that it built on the foundations that were laid in the bleak tunnels of the Pit, but it took a while for me to get to the point where I wanted to read ‘just one more chapter.’ Once there, though, the book flew.

So, Along the Razor’s Edge.

Is it worth it?

Yes.

*Yeah, I know. #dadjokes. Couldn’t resist.

OK.

This is going to be a bit of a non-review.

Why?

I read the book. I liked the book. Then I spent too long thinking about what I was going to say, got distracted by life, and, as a result, I can’t remember what I wanted to say.

Not ideal.

But if you want a bare bones recap, here we go.

I struggled with the first 100 pages as I got used to the world, tried to figure out the backstories, and keep track of the names.

That’s a fantasy trope that I could do without. Looooooong names. Stop. Please.

The middle of the book was fantastic: the twists, the ups and downs of relationships, the character developments, the depth to the world, the action scenes, the descriptions that can be both grim and beautiful, the humour, the quirk of it, the skull make up, prose that ranges from poetic to crass, and, of course, the bones.

I like anatomy. I always have. This book has it in coffin-loads.

It also has one of the best ‘anatomy’ quotes I’ve read:

“We do bones, motherfucker.”

Then we got to the end of the book. It lost me a little. Those twists kept coming and it got too much. To be fair, that may have been my insomnia playing tricks on me, but there were moments when I wanted a resolution rather than another ‘and then…’ moment.

That said, the inevitable sacrifice was well done and the book set up for the next one.

Which I will read. (And when I do, I’ll review it properly.)

Got a minute? Check out some of the fan art.

So.

Is Gideon the Ninth worth it?

Charlie Stross’s quote –

“Lesbian necromancers explore a haunted gothic palace in space!”

– paradoxically, both sums it up and does it nothing like the justice it deserves. It’s different to anything else I’ve read. That was part of its attraction and also where I struggled. Maybe not so much because of that difference, but due to the depth of that difference.

But, yes, it is worth it. It’s even worth a reread. And I suspect that when I do, so much more will make sense.

I’m not sure why I picked up this book. Someone might have recommended it. It could have been on special offer. It could easily have been the cover. Whatever the reason, I’m glad I did. It’s stunning.

The prose is beautiful. The story is poignant, tragic and powerful. There is a darkness to it which is made so much more unnerving because a lot of the terror happens ‘off screen’. The protagonists have clear and distinct personalities with flaws and wants. (You know, like real people.) The technical aspects of the writing (brackets, hyphens, asides and so on) add to the story rather than clutter it up. The story is clever but does not ram that cerebral aspect down your throat. The wisdom is not heavy handed.

“That’s all magic is, really: the space between what you have and what you need.”

The Crone

There is humour. There is hate. There is love. And, of course, there is a witch burning, though that may not turn out how you expect.

In short, the book is stunning.

I feel that a review needs some kind of ‘but…’ to give it credibility. I have no buts to give. The book had me from the dedication to the last page.

I’ll read it again. Soon. At the moment, though, part of me is worried that The Once and Future Witches won’t live up to my remembered expectations. Memories can be treacherous things. But for those of you who have the will, this book has ‘the words and the ways’.

And they are magical.

I first read Blackwing when it came out in 2017. (I think I even wrote a piece of flash fiction to go into a competition to celebrate that event.*)

I loved the book. It reminded me of a combination of William Gibson and Joe Abercrombie, Neuromancer set in Angland. It is dark and unpredictable. It combines fantasy with hard-boiled detective tropes. The magic system sparkles. The non-human monsters are vile but brilliant. It is one of the few books I’ve read where I don’t mind the combination of swords and guns. (The Gutter Prayer has since joined that list.) Blackwing features one of the best bit-part characters ever: Battle-Spinner Rovelle. All 22 lines that he features in are wonderful and the man deserves his own spin-off series. There are nasty gods and nastier people, great action sequences and has a twist in the tale that is superb and seems to come from nowhere.

In short, it is brilliant.

Ravencry is not quite as fresh as its predecessor but is still good. It twists and turns but the literary teeth aren’t as sharp, they don’t bite as deeply. This is despite it having a nastier antagonist and a superb death scene at the end – so few words used to express something so devastating.

I’m not entirely sure why the book is not quite as gripping as Blackwing. Maybe its purely because the concept is not as new, the story is not as quick. Maybe because Galharrow is too maudlin in places. Maybe I’m being too harsh. It’s a good book with some great lines in it and some bitterly true observations. But it didn’t sing like the first one.

Then came Crowfall. Before we get to it, indulge me.

When I was younger, I watched a film where a spaceship (earthship?) was tunneling to the centre of the earth. I can’t remember the name of the film. I think Kurt Russell may have been in it. I had no issues with the spaceship (earthship?) using a laser to dissolve the rock so it could make its descent. I did have an issue with someone at the centre of the earth using a mobile to make a call to the surface. “How do they get reception?” I asked, ignoring the rock-melting laser. I guess it was one step too far for me.

Back to Crowfall.

Of the three, this was the weakest. That doesn’t make it a bad book, it just doesn’t shine as much. The bitter gloriousness of the writing is smudged. Again, there are good action sequences, wonderfully awful monsters and some nice twists. The end sequence was well done, as you would expect from this author.

Why did I struggle?

The main issue was that it was a shade too weird. And of all the oddness, Galharrow’s Misery changes were the main culprit. I know he had a plan. I know he was building towards something. But it was too much, it didn’t seem to fit. I’m not sure why I’m happy with people spinning light from the moons or a talking crow coming out of someone’s arm but not what happened to Galharrow, but there you go. Maybe it was over-stretching the reality. And that weirdness was my rock-melting laser vs phone-reception-at-the-centre-of-the-earth moment. It stuck out too much.

Given how good Blackwing was, producing not one but two books of that calibre was always going to be hard. Ravencry was almost there but Crowfall didn’t make it.

That said, the series is good.

It’s worth reading.

Book One and Two are worth rereading.

I’m looking forward to seeing what Ed McDonald writes next. (I believe he has a new series in the works). In the meantime, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for the appearance of a Battle-Spinner Rovelle spin off series.

*It didn’t win.