Knife Edge, by Kerry Buchanan

Its not often a debut novel is as well written as this. I found myself utterly riveted from very early in the book, and when I wasn't reading it I was spending my time wishing I was. A full time job and a university degree usually restricts my 'fun' reading to an hour or so before bed, but with Knife Edge I was sneaking my iPad to work to wolf down the chapters at every opportunity.
The main character, Nic, is fantastic. Stubborn, forthright, and careless with it, she feels real and you really begin to care about her as the book progresses. Yes, she makes some very questionable choices throughout, but this all adds to the suspense and drama that courses through each and every page.
If I had one criticism it is that the two police officers aren't as developed, but since the POV was Nic's, this didn't impact my enjoyment at all.
The final twist in the epilogue was nicely done and sets up an eagerly awaited sequel.
Highly, highly recommended.

Thanks to Joffe books and netgalley.co.uk for the free copy in exchange for this honest review.

The Perfect Lie, by Jo Spain

A fantastic premise enticed me to order this from NetGalley for my first foray into the world of Jo Spain, which I was assured was a twisty-turny world of excellent crime writing. I have to admit the start of this book was excellent, with the death of Erin's husband Danny setting a scene I wanted to continue to inhabit. I did feel the fact that the book jumped from first-person perspective to third as well as back and forwards in time was a little confusing and could have been responsible for the fact that I kept putting the book down. I felt the lead character wasn't as compelling as some of the others and I personally found it hard to root for her. I loved the plot and the writing was excellent, and although I guessed as to the plot twist I found it well done and satisfying enough. 

Thanks to NetGalley and Quercus for an advance copy in exchange for this honest review.

Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley

An all time classic, and for good reason. I'm very reticent about reading the so called masterpieces, the books that fill lists titled '50 Books To Read Before You Die' or some such variation, but this is on my required reading list for university so to the Library I went in search of genius.

And I found it within the pages of this futurist utopian story about conformity and capitalism.

Set in a future of mass produced humans split into castes and social roles, Brave New World explores what it is to be human, and what individualism actually means.

Themes of self, of God, of isolation, and monogamy fill the book, with the world described in such detail you really step into it from the very beginning.

Non-conformist Bernard Marx struggles to fit in, to play the role to which he was assigned, and conditioned, and a trip to the uncivilised Savage Reservation brings about a startling revelation and introduces us to John the Savage whose entrance to the world thoroughly upsets the norm.

This book has been discussed over and over by scholars and readers thoughout the years since publication, and its through John we learn the sacrifices made and what was lost to create a perfect world of happiness.

Quite spectacular. 

The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck

A gritty, ultra realistc portrayal of America in the Great Depression. An absolute masterpiece of the human condition told through the eyes of the Joad family of Oklahoma travelling across route 66 in search of work and hope.

Steinbeck's opus is poetic and powerful, heartbreaking and hopeful all at the same time. I found my heart in my mouth many times when the Joads were a-moving towards the hope of work and money and food. There was always an undercurrent of threat, of danger in the pages and in the fields. Of man's ability to help another, but also of the pain he could cause another.

As wages fell during 1930s America, families moved from one transient job to another, huges caravans of middle americans filling up California and making the locals mean and distrustful. The air was thick with fear. Fear of starvation, fear of violence, fear of someone else getting what was yours. But it was also full of hope, and goodness and kindness. As Ma Joad says, the poorer the people get the more they want to give, the more they got to do for each other. 

Frequently found on lists such as 100 books to read before you die, or 50 greatest novels of the 20th Century, The Grapes of Wrath lives up to its reputation  and then some. 

Snow, by John Banville

Set in 1950s rural Ireland, Snow follows a murder investigation in one of the remaining Houses of the era. Ballyglass House, full of secrets is where the body of a priest is discovered. Even the characters are struck by the irony of it all. In the Library, one exclaims!

I feel the author is trying to be clever, and show us he is aware of his cleverness by highlighting it to show he's only half serious, but the tone of the book leaves no room for humour elsewhere, so it feels like he's just showing off.

Its not a long book, but it is a long read, tedious at times, and not very interesting. The main character, Strafford with an r, is utterly insufferably boring. The crime itself, while gory and apparently motiveless, takes back stage to the self pity and droning on of most of the characters.

The motive reveals itself through a flashback to be one of the most clichéd, lazy pieces of writing I've read in a long time.

The author writes beautifully, and the scenes he paints are vivid and stunning, like painting with words, but sadly all that fails to elevate the story, which simply isn't great.

The coda goes a way to give closure, but feels it would have been better explained in the main narrative rather than 10 years later when all the characters have already moved on.

Sadly disappointing. 

Witch Bottle, by Tom Fletcher

Set in the grim north of England, this book follows the daily grind of Daniel, a man who's milk round is interuppted only by the occasional visit to a cage and its enticing owner.
The book opens with a scene of such visceral imagery I will admit it took me a day or two to process it and return to the book. And I am very glad I did. The plot is simple enough but beautifully told in exquisite language. Daniel begins to see a ghost haunt him and his dreams to the point where he can no longer sleep. Many of his milkround customers also begin to see visions of dead loved ones. Enter the cafe owner, Kathryn, a witch, who provides solutions in the form of the titular witch bottle. But not every one is happy with the bottles, and the very sinister Fallen Stock men soon begin to threathen everything.
Excellent secondary characters and descriptive passages litter the pages of this book which is, on the face of it, a ghost story
But as you read on, the levels to the writing subtly reveal a commentary on depression and anxiety. Throw in a failed marraige and a dead baby sibling, Daniel struggles with his mental health throughout. The ghosts, and human-flesh-eating giant that threatens to invade this world are well drawn allegories for the fears and worries of Daniel, but also for the world at large.
The book feels like a deeply personal story, and all credit to Tom Fletcher for writing it in such a way.
Terrifying yet moving, this is a truly great story. 

Thanks to Netgalley.co.uk and Jo Fletcher Books for a free copy in exchange for this honest and fair review.

The Sentinel, by Lee and Andrew Child.

The newest in the long series of Jack Reacher novels. This time with a difference. Lee Child, the author of the previous 25 books is stepping down, or stepping away. But before he does he is keeping Reacher alive by handing over writing duties to his brother. They intend on collaborating on a few before Andrew takes over full time, and this is the first in the transition period of two authors.

The beauty of these books is the simplicity of them. Reacher rocks up to a small town somewhere in the great expanse of middle America, he runs into someone and stumbles upon a grave injustice. Which he deliberates over getting involved in for a time, before turning into a human wrecking ball on a mission to restore order and put the bad guys in their place. Whether that place is prison or a grave, Reacher doesn't really care.

What follows is a good old fashioned mystery with a good dollop of fight scenes which are wonderfully written. Big fists crashing into wide stomachs and brittle noses, roundhouse kicks knocking guns flying and skulls cracking. What's not to like?

The transition is seamless but you can almost sense an evolving of Reacher, breaking some of his own rules, making exceptions, and as he says himself, sometimes they all worked out OK.

The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman

 

Neil Gaiman is one of those authors whose books have always been on my radar, but always kind of at the periphery for some unknown reason. I loved Anansi Boys, and devoured American Gods, but that's it. I've dipped in and out of Sandman, but its sheer size has intimidated me slightly. 

When I found this in my local library I had no excuse. And I'm so glad I did.

Its a wonderfully dark little tale, with a unique voice and sound throughout. Whimsical and lyrical in its prose, its so easy to get lost in the pages. Bod is a great character, always wanting to do the right thing while always aware of the fact that he is different to those around him. A quite lovely little parable for children who find themselves different, but loved nonetheless, and the challenges that this can bring.

Bod's strength and ability to overcome and fight his demons comes from his time in the magical world of the graveyard. As a child he is given the rather vague and nebulous freedom of the graveyard, which gives him certain magical abilities such as Fading and Haunting. We meet him as an orphaned baby and watch him grow so by the time the last pages come up on us we are really invested in his life and hope to see him to do well beyond the confines of this story. 

The Prisoner of Heaven, by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

Book 3 of the superlative Cemetery of Forgotten Books. This one focuses on one of the secondary characters of the first book, Fermin Romero de Torres. It sheds light on his back story, how he came to be in the lives of the Sempere family, and what makes him the enigmatic man using a nom de plume making enemies of the state police. 

A shorter book than the rest of the series, but so concise and tightly told its still a marvellous book. All the charm and atmosphere of the previous two is present here, with Zafón's fluidity of prose evident as well. 

Characterisation is key to making a story real, making characters you care about and want to know more about. Here we discover more about one of my favourites and also meet a new one, the despicable Valls, the mysterious governor of the hellish Montjüic prison. Dripping with menace and intent, Valls exists in the shadows making moves with apparent foresight. 

This one is a self contained story like the rest, but this has the added bonus of feeling like a prequel to the first as well as the next. 

A shorter read than the first two in the series clocking in at slightly less than 300 pages. But each page is beautifully composed, not a word wasted, not a sentence included that doesn't need to be there.

A beautifully complex tale, setting up the next installment which I can't wait to read.

The Devil and the Dark Water, by Stuart Turton

A supernatural mystery set on a ship sailing from Batavia to Amsterdam, with a Sherlock Holmes type detective on board. What's not to like? Turns out, not very much at all, as this is a really clever, well plotted story with great characters, so many of them with various reasons and apparent motives to keep you guessing right to the very end.

It's a stand alone story, but I would read the hell out of prequels detailing the adventures of Sammy Pipps and Arent Hale, and the fact that they have such a rich history adds to the fullness of their characterisation. Sammy Pipps is a problematory, a detective with almost preternatutal skills at uncovering the truth of things, and Arent is his giant framed bodyguard. His Watson, but with extra muscle, for revealing and accusing murderers and thieves is a risky game.

Sara, Lia, and Creesjie are all strong female characters, esch with a destiny and a will of their own to survive and prosper despite the male attention they attract and which obviously in the timeframe wants to dominate them.
Set in 1634, aboard a Dutch merchant ship, the time is vividly portrayed as a dangerous place for women, who do what they're told and should be submissive. On the surface this appears to be the fate our three ladies are resigned to, but over the story we discover this couldn't be further from the truth.

I hadn't read this author before, but will certainly be checking more of out his work.

I was provided with a free copy by netgalley.co.uk in exchange for a fair review. 

The Angel's Game, by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

The follow-up to The Shadow of the Wind, this is the second book of the spanish author's masterful Cemetery of Forgotten Books series. While not as strong as the first, it evokes the same sense of nostalgia for a Spain and Barcelona of days past, of a time when danger lurked behind every gothic balustrade and overarching narrow cobbled street.

The words of Zafón, almost poetic in their construction, lure you into this world, and make you want to wander with the characters, through their streets and through their lives. 

The story meanders like the calles and avenidas, branching out and around you like vines which surround the mansions and houses of the story. Barcelona and her streets and houses are as much characters as David and his elegant and mysterious boss, coming to life with a purpose and agency that defies their being. 

As with the first, a book about books, this novel gives books a power rarely felt, how a strength within the pages of a well crafted story can consume the reader and twist their beliefs to the author's will. The power this imbues throughout the novel simmers at the heart of it, creating an unforgettable story.

More complex than its predecessor, it suffers from its overcomplicated plot ever so slightly but its still a magnificent book, by an immensely skilled writer.

The Midnight Library, by Matt Haig

This book has one of the most interesting concepts in a book I've come across in a long time. That there is something between life and death, an in-between state where you can re-do your life, to an extent. You get a series of what-ifs to live through to see if they fit better. An infinite number of second chances.

The book transitions slightly into a question of quantum mechanics and a discussion with another slider (the term given to people who can hop from life to life in that in-between period) around the many-worlds theory doesn't really go anywhere. 

I would have liked to seen this area explored more, the experience and the universe of the characters that exist here. For example, who are the people that exist on the cusp of life and death, why are they there, does everyone who dies spend time there, or are only some chosen, and why? This would have been a great way to learn more about the peripheral players.

But this element of the plot seemed to be shoehorned in to give some sort of scientific basis for the way the book was shaped. Like many of the characters, not fully developed, and more set dressing than real life people with their own agency. Even Nora, the main character was poorly drawn. Maybe because we spent so much time with her when she wasn't actually her, all we learned about her for most of the book was what she didn't want to be, not who she actually was.

It felt like the author was trying to write a small story about big ideas, about depression and how it informs us, but fell short of making something truly important, and never quite manages to pull it off.

The ending was as predicable as I'd feared, but strangely enough was the best part of the book. It was delicately written with real warmth and a feeling of hope just pored through the final pages. Just about redeemed the whole book.

The Thursday Murder Club, by Richard Osman

 A really wonderful book. Brimmed full of life and vitality, with characters who jumped off the page and into your living room. Osman makes living in a retirement village sound like something everyone should look forward to.
The Thursday Murder Club, Elizabeth, Joyce, Ron and Ibrahim, meet, not coincidentally on Thursdays in the jigsaw room to discuss cold cases forgotten by the police. It passes an hour for them, and gives them an excuse (not that they need it) to enjoy a glass or two of wine!
Everything is going as it usually does, slowly but contentedly, until a real life murder on their patch thrusts them into the middle of a live investigation.
What follows is a glorious romp across the Kent countryside, with a detour to Cyprus thrown in for good measure. With a little help from the real police, and a Polish builder, the intrepid septuagenerian foursome follow the clues in their own, unique way.
Gangsters, drug dealers, and former professional boxers complete the cast of miscreants who come under the miscroscope of the former spy(?), nurse, union leader and physiatrist.
Definitely not a Pointless read!

I was provided a free copy by netgalley.co.uk in exchange for a fair review.

The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

I'm not sure what else needs to be said about this book. But I will add my two cents, for what its worth.
This is a book about books, and the sense of love the author has for the written word pours out of every page. The elegance of prose, the ease with which descriptions are drawn, and characters are created is beyond wonderful. The city of Barcelona is so alive, and my heart yearns to visit it again, to retrace Daniel and Julián's journey through the Calles and Avenidas of Catalonia's capital.
At once a mystery novel in the classic gothic sense, and a comedy, and a tragedy, and a story simply about people, and their relationships.
The way the story reflects itself in the stories of Daniel and Bea, and Julián and Penelope is so clever and heartbreaking, and ultimately fulfilling. The contrasting personalities of Fermín and Fumero are reflections of each other, bound to Daniel and Julián respectively, like angels and demons on their shoulders, advising and stalking throughout with a real purpose. Not a single character is unnecessary, nor a single event or incident included without purpose.
Quite simply, my favourite book, and the best I have ever read. Onto the rest of the series.

The Baltimore Boys, by Joël Dicker

The follow-up to The Truth About The Harry Quebert Affair is a prequel of sorts, a tale of the same narrator's childhood. The style of the previous book is apparent here, and borrows from the structure too. The story takes place across many years, and the book switches timelines frequently throughout.

The premise is a oft referenced "tragedy" which looms over the book like the sword of damocles. Every character is presented as a before and after version of this tragedy. And some of these characters are just awful. Awful people, completely self absorbed and unable or unwilling to see beyond their own privileged lives.
While the story was somewhat engaging, and the book easy enough to read, there were a few issues, perhaps in the translation. Dialogue was just simply ridiculous, sentences uttered that wouldn't pass the lips of a real person. The narrator, as unreliable as you could imagine, presenting events as a matter of fact, when he couldn't possibly know what was happening in certain moments, was honest to a fault. From his horrid jealousy, to his shame directed at his "poor" parents, to his almost stalkery behaviour towards the Mary-Sue who illogically represented pretty much everyone's love interest. Peripheral characters weren't much better, seemingly only there to fill pages, and could easily have been purged by a less forgiving editor, who could have chopped the page count by half and not lost any of the essence.
A decent enough book, but unfortunately these quibbles mean it is considerably less than its predecessor which suffered from many of the same problems. It seems Dicker didn't improve in the intervening years, and perhaps the translation of his books will not survive to another effort.

Klopp, Bring the Noise, by Raphael Honigstein

A really great read, a little insight into the man who has turned Liverpool's fortunes around. Seamlessly meandering back and forth, ebbing and flowing across Klopp's career, highlights and bitter lows, this presents a picture of a determined, and sometimes difficult man. But a man whose main overriding goal is improvement. To improve himself, and those around him. To win is important, but the journey to the win equally so.

Beautifully written, much better than a lot of sports biographies, which can be dry and formulaic. Some exquisite turns of phrase such as: "over a lunch of pasta and bittersweet memories.", "This was football defootballised, not concerned with the how, only with the wow.", and "There's nothing beautiful about Liverpool's game on a bitingly cold, pitch-black night that descends on the visitors like a mist made of pure dread."

Fans of Liverpool, Borussia Dortmund, and FSV Mainz 05 will undoubtedly be more predisposed to enjoy this book, but the chapters which focus on Wolfgang Frank, Klopp's mentor at Mainz, and how both he and his protégé worked on systems and styles and tactics are informative for any fans of the beautiful game.

Well worth a read.

Dead If You Don't, by Peter James

Book 14 in the Detective Roy Grace series. The first one I've read. Maybe this impacted my enjoyment, I don't know, but I felt it was very by the numbers.

Det. Grace didn't feel like a real person to me, but an amalgam of what the author feels a good copper should be. I failed to discern even a semblence of personality, which may have been explained and elaborated upon in previous volumes.

The story itself was decent, with all the elements you would want in a thriller. A kidnapping gone wrong, ruthless Albanian gangsters, and a race agaisnt the clock at the end. But somehow, it felt, lacking.

I enjoyed it enough to not be put off reading more, but perhaps I would be better starting at the beginning and getting to know Detective Superintendent Roy Grace as he evolves. Presuming he does.

The Girl and the Stars, book 1 of Book of the Ice, by Mark Lawrence

That ending. Wow. So many questions, like where do we go from there, and why don't I have the next one already!?

So, as with all Mark Lawrence's books, the prose is undeniably beautiful. He writes with an eloquence of voice that is unparalleled in modern fantasy. His characters have a tendency to ruminate in the middle of action scenes, but it seems to take you further into the story, rather than an abrupt exit, as it might be in the hands of a lesser writer.

This is the first volume of a trilogy set in Abeth, a world he introduced in the Book of the Ancestor trilogy. Where that series was set in the green interior belt around the world's equator, this takes place in the North, on a frozen wasteland where tribes discard the weak to prevent them becoming a drain on resources. This discarding takes place in the Pit of the Missing, essentially a giant hole in the ground where children deemed Broken are thrown by a priest. A harsh world, populated by harsh peoples, and it is on the way to the Pit we meet Yaz, our heroine.

Yaz is possibly Lawrence's purest character. None of Jorg's brutality, nor Jalan's arrogance, Yaz has one mission, and strives toward that goal throughout. Her journey takes her to many others, and her mission evolves, but never diminishes. Goodness flows from her, and she always sees the best in people. As she herself says, she is Broken, but over the course of the book she puts herself back together and becomes more than the sum of her parts.

It is in this that Lawrence reveals ourselves too, we spend our lives being broken by tiny degrees and constantly putting those pieces back together. We'll never be exactly the same, but a version of ourselves, changed by circumstance and experience. The very best books do this, and this is one of the very best.

Wars of the Roses, book 1, Stormbird, by Conn Iggulden

 This has clearly been meticulously researched, paced and plotted. Deviations from the historical record were small but necessary to keep the plot moving forward. Iggulden states as much in his historical notes section at the end. Some characters were invented to replace apparent historical figures lost to time. Derry Brewer, the spy, for one, Thomas Woodchurch, an archer who leads a peasants revolt in France another.

There were many things to like about this book, the story itself, obviously, is gripping in its complexity, the characters fully realised and utterly believable. The settings were richly described and vividly brought to life.

But there were a few issues I had too. If you felt Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire had a load of characters to keep track of, Iggulden takes that idea and raises to a new height. Granted, historical fiction is bound by the players invloved, but there are so, so many here it does become quite a chore constantly flipping to the five (yes FIVE!) pages of family trees at the beginning of the volume.

Another issue was every character (bar Margaret of Anjou, but as the Queen of the King of England, she doesn't really count as French for most of the novel) was English, which not in itself a problem, but with so much of the book set in France, with the conflict between England and France front and central, we got no sense of the French POV. Every character was, according to the narrative, righteous in their anger at being asked, or forced, to leave France. Despite living on French land, stolen from French landowners by English soldiers. There was no opposition to this, just a portrayal of English invaders pissed off that their sojourn in the French sun was coming to an end. This just rubbed me the wrong way.

I still want to read the rest of the series, which is testament to Iggulden's prose and way of framing a story, so I guess those little foibles aren't enough to put me off.

Clash of The Titans, director Loius Leterrier

Having recently read Stephen Fry's Mythos & Heroes books on Greek Mythology I had been looking for movies and TV shows to further my knowledge, or at least bring some of the stories I have just read to life.

This movie does none of that. It is a very poor effort, changing the story of the Hero Perseus in so many ways so as to render it unrecognisable from the traditional story told for countless generations. Being aware that myths are not facts, and a little creative license is allowed and even encouraged to bring to the silver screen, this goes so far past that it changes the core of the story.

Andromenda was Egyptian, not from Argos, Perseus never rode Pegasus, Medusa certainly didn't reside in the underworld requiring a trip on Charon's pleasure cruise. Pegasus was a unique horse, not merely part of a herd of impossible to tame flying horses. Perseus did meet Pegasus, when he beheaded his mother Medusa upon which time the winged horse sprung from her neck and flew off into the world where he eventualy met and be tamed by Bellerephon. 

Taking away the terrible changes to the myth, and the title (this takes place eons after the Titans were deposed by the Gods), this just isn't a good movie. Poorly acted, sloppily directed, some of the CGI is truly awful, the dialogue grates, and the less said about Liam Neeson's Zeus the better.

The only saving grave is Ralph Fiennes, who is wonderfully macabre as Hades, even though he plays no part in the story of Perseus in the original telling of this hero's story. Shoehorned in as an antagonist and steps up, but shouldn't be within a million miles of this nonsense. Fiennes and his underworld ruling counterpart.

Avoid if you can, and if you can't, may the Gods (not the Titans!!!) have mercy on your soul.

A Purple Place for Dying, John D. MacDonald (Travis McGee, #3)

This was not a good book. 

In terms of story which it was ok. Just ok, but nothing unique or groundbreaking. A tale of revenge, family, lust and ultimately hearbreak.

What made it bad was the tone, the casual violence towards women, one in particular, and the attempts by so many characters to not only justify it, but to blame this woman for it. She deserves a beating, deserves every slap she gets. I get that its a product of its time, but its hard to read with modern sensibilities.

One particular instance early on when McGee meets this ladies' husband who describes slapping her and beating her for trying to leave him. He'll basically beat sense into her until she realises she's essentially his property. McGee ends this meeting with the enlightened thought that he liked him a lot better than his wife!

I'm sticking with this series because I've been assured that this changes, but this one feels like a step back from books 1 & 2. Since the three were all released in 1964 only months apart (as was book 4) this may not be foretelling of the series as it progresses.

McGee remains a great character, trying to be the righteous avenger, the hero for the downtrodden female. With tough love and honest appraisals he forges a bond with the ladies he's helping which always seems to end with an intimate encounter, which evidently bores him in the end. Not a very likeable man thus far, but I'll persevere for I'm nothing if not a glutton for punishment, and a completist. And as a wise man once said "I've started so I'll finish". 

The Big Bang Theory

I watched this religiously when it first came out, maybe the first 6 or 7 seasons, then kinda drifted out of it for a while. Not really sure why as I didn't stop liking it, maybe life got in the way, I had a baby around that time! Anyway, I've been catching up with it again, and finally finished it this week.

The first thing I'll say is Howard is an awful character, a stereotype of so many bad tropes and a bully with it. His behaviour towards Sheldon is, at times, beyond cruel and crosses a fairly severe line.

Sheldon is the most sympathetic character in the show because while he can be mean, abrasive, and disrespectful its true to him and you're always aware that he does seem to be trying. Like Pinocchio, and another of my favourite characters, Lt. Cmdr. Data from Star Trek: TNG, he wants to be a real life boy.

The female characters aren't treated well to begin with, but each of them gets plenty of time to shine in their own way, and grow as people. For a sitcom this is fairly good form.

Yes, the show has issues with stereotypes across the board, jewish, indian, geek, etc, but by the end of the series the characters have all grown past their introductions and the last series (the last 5-6 episodes in particular) has more heartfelt scenes then the previous 11 seasons combined.

The show has come under fairly intense criticism in the past for its depiction of geeks and nerds, and I understand that. I feel, however, its not deriding geek culture, but celebrating it. This show, this group of characters embody what it means to be a geek, what it means to be part of a fandom of something, be it Star Trek or Star Wars, comic books or sci-fi novels, there's something for all of us here. It allows us to be proud of that, to get the in-jokes between Sheldon and Wil Wheaton and sit smugly while others don't. This is a rare thing for us and I welcome it.

With repeats on television constantly, it has the potential to be like Friends and continually gain new fans and viewers over the years, and I hope many get the same satisfaction from it as I ultimately did. And you never know, I might even learn to like Howard.

Highfire, by Eoin Colfer

 This is the first adult fantasy novel by the writer of the massively successful Artemis Fowl series of children's/young adult stories. And it captures the same sense of wonder at a world just close enough to our own to be both believable and magical.

 Its been a few years since I read the Fowl novels, which I remember loving for the most part, and I read 'And Another Thing...', Colfer's Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy book, and wasn't impressed, so I came into this a little apprehensive as I wasn't sure which version of Colfer I would get here. I needn't have worried, this is quite a wonderful book.

 It centres around a self-confessed delinquent called Squib and his run-ins with the local constable, a corrupt cop with lustful designs on Squib's mom. These travails are made more challenging by the fact that Squib meets and befriends the last dragon on earth, (Wyvern Lord Highfire, or Vern for short), and interrupts and threatens the cop's extracurricular activities.

 What follows is a glorious romp through the Louisiana swamp and New Orleans' French Quarter, with dragon fire and rocket fire both expended frequently.

 Humour throughout, and with heart and soul in abundance, this is a fantastic story of unlikely friendships and dogged determination to become better. 

 Peppered with wonderful characters, you will root for some, and be horrified by others, but you will remember them all, long after you turn the last page. 

 Looking forward to reading more about this Netflix-binging, vodka-guzzling, Flashdance T-shirt-wearing bi-pedal fire-breathing Lord Highfire. If Mr. Colfer graces us with a sequel. 

 My fingers are crossed.

Mythos & Heroes, by Stephen Fry

I feel Mythos is the stronger of the two, the characters detailed within are better and more interesting. 

Dealing with, as Fry does here, Gods and Titans, and demi-gods and humans and everything in between, I felt the focus on the humans was a little, well, boring at times. Each character was focused on in swift fashion, moving from escapade to escapade, without really getting to know them. 

With the Titans and the Gods in book 1, that was fine as they are more abstract ideas than fully formed consciousnesses. 

But when telling stories about humans, about people, we want to know the people, what drove them, more than a couple of lines about their ancestry and why their father/uncle/wife/whomever wants them dead. And why the god of the day has seen fit to favour them or smite them. 

Not to say Heroes is a bad book, it is still incredibly well written and eminently readable. I just preferred the first one. 

I would, however, read the hell out of a third one focusing on the Trojan War!

Nightmare in Pink (Travis McGee no.2) by John D MacDonald

Read this one on the back of just finishing the first in the series. Travis McGee is a compelling, if not very likable character. He seems to want to do the right thing, but some his attitudes especially towards women are, to put it politely, of his era and not acceptable today. This can be a little jarring, reading it as I am in 2020, but from reading other reviews it appears he does change as the series progresses. And I can see the evidence even from book 1 to book 2, so here's hoping.

The books themselves story-wise, are fairly simple and formulaic. Trav meets girl through some convuluted means, she's in a pickle, and for half the take he agrees to help. He beds her, gets himself in a spot of bother, through sheer masculinity and super intelligence he gets out and solves the whole thing.

I'm reading the re-released series with a foreword from Lee Child, and its clear Reacher was influenced by these books. There's a very similar vibe between the two, although I've read more of Child's books so I'll refrain from drawing too many comparisons here. 

Suffice to say, the two I've read are quick, pulpy reads, and while I doubt they'll stay with me for long, I'm enjoying them so far.

Nevernight, by Jay Kristoff

 Set in a pseudo medieval Renaissance style world, this richly told tale centres around the would-be assassin Mia Corvere, bent on revenge on the people who killed her family. Mia is immediately a sympathetic protagonist as we are introduced to her as a ten year old witnessing the execution of her father.
 What follows could easily be a traditional revenge story with a montage of training exercises under a mysterious sensei type figure, building up to a final showdown where good triumphs over evil. And in lesser hands this is what this book would be. But Kristoff raises the bar here, creating a wonderful world filled with a complex political system, with gods and men and magic and darkness.
 A central point of the novel is in the title, nevernight, as the world in the book has three Suns which rarely all set at the same time, creating the time known as 'nevernight', a less than dark time, bathing the world in a half light instead of the true dark which occurs only rarely. This leads to the worship of a god system based on light and dark, of good and evil.
 Intertwined through all of this is the place Mia finds herself in the world; a training academy for killers all vying for coveted spots at the top of the class. Murder in all its forms is taught to Mia and her classmates/rivals as she learns what it takes, and what it will cost, to exact her revenge.
 And this doesn't even mention Mister Kindly...you'll like him.

Nevernight is published by Harper-Voyager and is out on August 9th 2016 and available at all the usual places.

I received this book from Harper-Voyager as a free ARC in exchange for this honest review.

Nine to Five

I posted this originally on Wattpad, but apparently you have to sign up to that site before you can read this, so I'm posting it here for the 'benefit' of those who are not signed up.  It is the first chapter/story of my short story collection titled A Lifelong Day' which will be released some stage later this year, hopefully!

It was the same drive every day, the same route taken from the newly built development on the outskirts of the small market town, past the school his children attended; quiet now, for a few weeks anyway, the summer holidays just beginning, kids already forgotten the place. The same drive into the busy car park, early enough to get one of the coveted free spaces on the lower level. Three pounds a day! Fifteen a week. Even if he wasn't a bank manager, he would be able to see the advantage of getting up and leaving the house a little earlier. Plus, it gave him twenty minutes of peace and solitude between the madness of home and the hustle and bustle of work.

He was on a beach somewhere, Mexico maybe, or Thailand. It didn't really matter, what was important was that he wasn't sitting in his car, in this car park on a rainy Wednesday morning in June.  It was supposed to be summer, but it had been raining since, when, Saturday? He could almost feel the sea lapping at his feet, the sun slowly turning his under-exposed chest a rather alarming shade of pink. Smiling at the thought of being somewhere other than here, he closed his eyes and allowed himself this moment.

Connor Doherty had always appreciated a simple life, he enjoyed the mundane, the routine. His job afforded him all these qualities in abundance. He had been working in the same bank since he left school, working his way up from cashier to manager in a fairly unimpressive career of steady if unremarkable progress. Twenty-seven years, not one sick day. He was very proud of that, he could look anyone in the eye, and be proud of that. It might not be much, certainly not akin to losing one's leg in a war saving the lives of your comrades, or developing a cure for cancer, but it was all he had, and dammit, he was proud of it.

The second alarm of the morning buzzed on Connor's phone, bringing his twenty minutes to a sad and unsatisfying conclusion. Sighing deeply, Connor returned his seat to the vertical position, got out of the nine-year-old family car, and started making his way to work. Huddling under his golf umbrella, which had never even seen a golf course, Connor crossed the car park, exchanging the usual pleasantries with his fellow commuters.

As was normal, on the walk to the bank, his thoughts drifted home. His wife, Susan, his Susie, who wasn't quite his anymore. She wasn't quite anyone's, not even herself. He had begun to lose her years ago, but the death of her father three years earlier, seemed to have sealed the deal. Rarely found out of bed, Susie has withdrawn almost completely. Conversations are difficult, drawn out, one-sided affairs that leave Connor frustrated and angry. Angry at himself for not knowing how to help the woman he loves, frustrated because he has to try.

The kids can't help. How could they, they're only children. Lucy is thirteen, and Darragh not much older at fifteen. Probably the only children in school who had been dreading the holidays, knowing what their summer would consist of. Today was the middle of the first week of their summer, and he hoped they would get into town today, to spend time with their friends, to be normal, or at least pretend to be. Connor toyed with the idea of taking them away for even a couple of days, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. Susie would never go for it, you know I'm not well enough for a trip like that, why even mention it, just to make me feel worse, now I'm the one not letting them have a holiday, you always do this Connor, it's hardly my fault I'm sick!

The morning passed, as mornings tend to do, slowly and uneventfully. Paperwork was a tedious business, but at least he was spared the actual face-to-face meetings with disappointed or dissatisfied customers. That sort of thing was best left to others. As Connor's tea break approached, (it was good to keep to a routine, even though as manager, he could have tea all day if he wanted), he continued to think of the holiday he couldn't have. A week in Spain, one of those package deals he has seen advertised in the window of the travel agents' around the corner. Even a city break, three days in Madrid or Barcelona, surely Susie could cope with that.

He sipped his tea, imagining it was a Café Carajilo with a generous dash of rum. Sitting on a terrace on the Plaza Mayor, or on the waterfront at the bottom of Las Ramblas while Susie took in the shops with Lucy; Darragh and himself people watching, just chilling out. If they were lucky there was a game on, and they could see it on a little television screen behind the bar beside them. Cheering on Atleti, or Espanyol like locals. He always imagined Real and Barca were only supported by tourists and that the locals supported the smaller of the city's teams. Darragh had gotten an 'A' in Spanish in his last exam; he was a natural at languages, so unlike his father. He'd love to have an excuse to put all this learning into practice, he'd be so proud sitting there conversing with the staff, ordering them all their food and drink. It would be great for both the kids, they've never been anywhere. Do they even have passports?  He'd have to look into that when he got home this evening.

Lunchtime came, and Connor decided to see what was what in the travel agents. Three nights in Spain's capital for the four of them, a chance to get to know each other again, he was beginning to get excited. This was the most impulsive thing he had done in years, to hell with it, he'd talk Susie into it somehow, so he went right ahead and booked the holiday.

The rest of the day went by in a bit of a blur, at times rushing by as his adrenaline levels peaked with the thought of actually telling Susie, at times it seemed the clock on his office wall was broken, as he came back to earth with the reality of how that confrontation might go.

He couldn't wait, though, to tell Darragh and Lucy. He could picture their faces, Lucy looking up at him with those big beautiful blue eyes, Daddy! Really! We're really going?! Wait till I tell them, can I tell them now!? And then rushing off to facechat, or snapbook, or whatever. And Darragh, What about Mum? What will she say? So practical, not wanting to get carried away, probably won't believe it until he's actually on the plane, practising his Spanish.

The butterflies in his stomach were huge by the time 4.30 arrived and the bank closed, just the supervision of cashing up to be done. He left a couple of minutes after five, walking on air, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was so keen to get home (when was the last time he could say that?) he decided to forego his usual latte at Al's coffee shop. The rain had stopped sometime in the afternoon, the puddles drying on the pavement as he practised his speech on the way back to the car.

Connor removed the envelope the girl in the travel agents had given him, and placed it reverently on the passenger seat beside him. His gamble, he began to doubt himself, and his sanity. It wasn't like things weren't bad enough at home, without risking this. Over what? A couple of days in Spain? He was mad, certifiable even. He knew what Susie would say, hadn't he been over it this morning? He looked at the envelope, and thought of Darragh and Lucy. Screw her, we're going, whether she likes it or not.

He couldn't help it, he was angry with her, he spent a lot of time angry with her, although he tried to deny it, even to himself. He couldn't figure out why she just didn't get out of that damn bed and do something, anything! He didn't understand the mood swings, from depression to apathy, and most things in between. When her father died, she became these extremes that had always threatened the edges of her personality. It was like she had kept them at bay, just, for years, but couldn't, or wouldn't, fight any longer.

Her father had been a mean man when sober, which wasn't very often, and a cruel bully when drunk, which was. Susie was an only child and as such, often the only buffer between her father's rage and her mother. Her childhood was a long list of visits to the hospital, no social services back then to report domestic abuse to, no outreach program to help families. Connor avoided the man as much as was possible while he was alive; family gatherings were always held at Susie's family home, so they could leave on their terms. The children were always kept at a distance.

Connor had hoped when the old man died, Susie would come out of herself a little, but the opposite happened. A wall grew between her and everyone and everything. Even Darragh, who was such a mummy's boy, practically surgically attached to her apron strings, was pushed away.

Pulling into the drive, Connor looked up to the bedroom window. The curtains were pulled apart, and the windows open. He could hear music coming from the back of the house, from the kitchen. Thinking his timing could not have been better, Connor grabbed the envelope with their holiday inside and rushed, for the first time in years, into the house to see his wife.

Susie, his Susie, for she was always his Susie, and always would be his Susie, was standing at the worktop, preparing dinner. It was a picture perfect moment, his idyllic family life, Honey, I'm home. Even the kids were there, he could hear them in the living room, arguing about who got to watch what on television. He couldn't have planned it better. He could tell them all together, make the evening doubly perfect. Viva Espana!

***

The rain streaked down the bedroom window as the car pulled out of the long drive. As Susie watched Connor head towards the town for another day at the bank she knew how lucky she was. He was a wonderful husband, and an even better father to their two children. She knew she wasn't the easiest person to live with, but he put up with it, with her, with barely a cross word. Today would be a better day, she promised herself. The same promise she had made every day since he died.

Gerry Breslin had been an impressive man, physically at least, if not in any other department. The complete opposite to her Connor, which was probably why she was so drawn to him. Connor represented everything her father didn't; security, reliability, dependability.

Susie did this a lot, she realised, listing Connor's qualities on her fingers. Would it be so hard to tell him every once in a while?!

Sometimes she was so calm, so normal, she could almost feel herself again. Her old self, if there even was one, if she was actually still there, inside somewhere. She doubted it. She knew she wasn't quite herself, hadn't been for years. But contrary to the stories, admitting you have a problem isn't always the first step to fixing it.

Some mornings, like this one, after Connor leaves for work, Susie would find herself staring out the window after him. He always leaves so early now, even though the bank doesn't open until nine-thirty, and he's the manager, he can show up whenever, no-one is going to say anything to him. She knows it's because he can't stand to be here any longer than he has to be. He might even be having an affair. She dismisses this thought almost immediately, no way, not my Connor.

The back door slamming shut startled her from her daydream, the kids leaving for school, no, not school, it was the summer holidays, she knew. She knew they didn't want to be in the house all day, left here with her all day. She smiled a little, wished them every happiness, even if was just a day aimlessly wandering through the shops with their friends. She could cope today, she could be strong for the whole day. One day at a time, isn't that what she was always being told? Even they had stopped coming to say goodbye, how she used to love seeing their little faces as they headed off for their day, her babies, so grown up. She missed them, missed being their mummy.

Susie had always struggled with depression, she couldn't pinpoint when it started, not exactly, but she remembered even in her own childhood, shying away from social events, almost deliberately neglecting friendships to the point where what friends she did have eventually stopped calling round, stopped phoning. It always seemed easier being on her own.

Not on her own exactly, she had her mother, who needed her more than any of those silly girls from school. Life was difficult at home; her father was a mean man, and a drunk to be perfectly honest. Even when he was sober, which wasn't very often, he was a cruel man, with a cruel tongue. When he was the other side of drink, his cruelty migrated to his fists, and not uncommonly, his feet. Regularly he could be found holding Susie by the throat while kicking his wife. The neighbours would turn the wireless up rather than come to their aid, once bitten twice shy, as a bloodied nose a few years ago put paid to the crossing of Gerry Breslin's threshold when he was on one.

As she grew older, Susie's patience with her mother began to wane. She couldn't understand why she put up with him, what hold he could possibly have on her to make her stay, to put her daughter through this, night after night, year after year. The anger built up within, but unlike her father she was unable, or perhaps unwilling to release it. It gnawed at her, tormented her, changed her gradually.

When her father died all this anger and resentment died too, but when that happened, Susie realised that that was all she had. So many years of defining herself by her father, and by his actions, had left her empty. She was an empty shell, and unable to fill that space where the bitterness lived. She knew it was irrational, she had a wonderful life, and a wonderful family, but there was nothing inside of her.  Her father had taken everything she had and turned it into pain. Without that pain, she didn't know who she was anymore.

Today was going to be a better day. Her morning mantra. She watched Darragh and Lucy turn the corner towards the town, and their freedom from the darkness of the house. Darragh so very protective of his younger sister; Lucy idolising him, but obviously never ever going to admit it. She decided she was going to do something today, if not for herself, for them. She was feeling better today.

***

As he called Darragh and Lucy into the kitchen Susie turned around, and instinctively Connor stepped towards her to give her a hug, a hug he'd been holding onto for three long years. God, it was like she was never gone, he still loved her so much, this holiday was going to be perfect! It took the breath from him. He looked down, the kitchen knife, bloody in Susie's hand, sliding slowly out of his stomach. You bastard, daddy, leave mummy alone!

He looked down as the envelope slipped from his outstretched hand and closed his eyes.

The Wandering Earth, by Liu Cixin

 I read this because of the hype surrounding Liu Cixin's more recent novel, The Three Body Problem. I wanted to read some of the author's work before I committed to the first of a trilogy of hard sci-fi. To get a feel for his style, and an idea of his ideas.

 This novella, I felt would be a great jumping-in point. I'm glad I gave it a go. High-concept science fiction is not something I read a lot of, but this was presented in a very readable manner. Some of the exposition is rather clunkily delivered through dialogue, but this may be a translation issue, and does not take away too much from the piece.

 A brilliant concept, that in order to survive the sun becoming a red giant, humanity must take to the stars. Deciding that a generation ship would not be sustainable for the distance, or the length of time of the journey, the powers that be decide to take the Earth instead, hence the title. 

 I don't know how accurate the science behind the story is, but that doesn't matter, it reads as plausible, and the suspension of dis-belief is as necessary here as in fantasy. 

 I look forward to reading more of this author's work, even if it might take a while to wrap my head around the science.

Knight's Shadow (Greatcoats Book 2), by Sebastien de Castell

This book had a lot to live up to. One of last year's standout debuts, Traitors Blade was a fun action-packed thrill ride owing more than a little to Alexander Dumas and his Three Musketeers. 

The sequel, much bigger in terms of both size and ambition, was very eagerly awaited.

And it did not disappoint. In terms of storyline, we meet up with our three heroes more or less where we left them. A new band of Greatcoats has risen to take on Trin, the ducal heir with designs on the throne. The story here is much more complex and ambitious than the first volume, with deep political intrigue played off against stunning action sequences, which make for a compelling tale.

The story is told from Falcio's perspective, but, like in the fist book, Brasti and Kest get enough time to develop further and allow us to see their motivations as well as Falcio's. We also see other characters points-of-view and, mainly through confrontations, get to see what makes them tick as well. It makes for a fully formed story, and is much better for having fully formed characters rather than mere caricatures.

Tristia is a fascinating setting, with a political landscape which feels very real. The dukes and the Knights make for unsettling antagonists, with a sense of evil surrounding their plans for the country. It is through this conflict de Castell shows us his world, and the various people who populate it, the villagers and the nobles alike.

With more sequels planned, Tristia will only grow, and hopefully we will see more of it.

Bigger and better than its predecessor, Knight's Shadow is a wonderful sequel, managing to keep the tone of the original intact while at the same time expanding the themes that made it so good. The Greatcoats series is thriving, and I look forward to the next instalment.

Knight's Shadow is published in the UK by JoFletcherBooks

The Liar's Key (Red Queen'sWar, book 2), by Mark Lawrence

I've read that The Liars Key is not a redemption tale. I think it absolutely is. Perhaps not for Jalan, but for the reader. We may not like to admit it, but we all have the same feelings as Jalan, the same weaknesses, and it's in the ownership of these that we, like Jal, become more. Like it or not, most of us are more Jal than Snorri, and it's that acceptance which drives this story.
Prince Jalan Kendeth of Red March began the first book as unlikable a protagonist as one could hope to meet, but by the end of this, the second volume, having admitted to himself, and us, that there is so much more to him than his cowardice and his greed, he emerges as a figure of strength and loyalty. It is a story of discovery, of finding oneself through adversity. Despite his best efforts, Jal becomes a hero. While failing utterly to escape unscathed on several occasions, he manages to, among other things, escape from one prison and break into another, fight a horde of Red Vikings, necromancers, and well, the list is quite extensive by the end. And yet, Jal is still unconvinced. A lifetime of pretending, quite well it must be said, to be one thing, is a hard habit to break. But if we can open those doors, and admit that maybe, just maybe we are more than the sum of our parts, there remains hope.
It is a common human trait to put oneself down, to look past our achievements and our qualities, and focus only on the negatives, on the things we can't, and ignore the things we can. If Jal can show us one thing, it's that when push comes to shove, if he can, we can.
A wonderful story with a fantastic setting, and a very important message at its core. And it's damn fun too.

Fiction on Foreign Planets, Volume 3 by Sean Kavanagh

                       As usual Sean Kavanagh does not disappoint with another strong collection. With a couple of real standout stories, and a very sharp eye for consumerism and the apparent need for easiness, the author creates versions of our future which might not be too far wrong.

A reading time of around 30 minutes makes this book the ideal commuter accompaniment for fans of the genre.

Available to buy on Kindle here

Kindle here

Tide of Shadows by Aidan Moher

The first thing that impressed me about this book was the cover. Hauntingly beautiful, with an impression of scale and loneliness, an impression which is realised and amplified throughout each of the five stories which make up this wonderful little volume.
Each of the five stories is told from one or more unique perspectives, and the characters Moher draws are achingly real. Although each story is short and so the time we get to spend with the characters is all too brief, each leaves a real sense of completion, which can be a problem in some works so short.
'A Night for Spirits and Snowflakes' is a story of war, or rather of the after effects of war, of burying the dead and of saying goodbye.  The main character buries each of his mates in turn, and we re-live their deaths through their own eyes.  This is a very clever story telling technique in that each of the soldiers gets their own voice and their own motives.
'The Girl with Wings of Iron and Down' is loneliness personified, the eponymous girl wakes periodically to be called by a name which isn't her own, and subjected to pain and anguish.  Feelings of a loss of self and identity are explored among other themes, and the result is strangely compelling, demanding repeated re-readings.
'Of Parnassus and Princes, Damsels and Dragons' is a quirky little tale, subverting the big bad dragon and damsel in distress tropes.  Here Moher creates an unlikeable 'hero' and a equally unlikable damsel, but while this may be becoming standard in some fantasy circles, what marks this separate is the comic value.  Deliberate use of language tools such as alliteration and repitition are employed to create a real fairytale scene with a difference.
'The Colour of the Sky on the Day the World Ended' a beatifully written tale about a young girl and her (imaginary) dog on the hunt for a hidden fruit in a post-apocolyptic world.  At less than 700 words, it packs a lot in.
'Tide of Shadows' brings the collection full circle, following another soldier, this time on the eve of battle.  In the first story we meet a soldier dealing with the effects of war, in this we join a soldier about to enter the fray.  Moher cleverly bookends his collection with similarly toned pieces, told from very different angles.  What I found interesting was the positioning of the two, with the piece after the battle at the beginning of the collection and the story leading into war at the end, suggesting a never ending cycle of self-destruction and hopelessness.  We see the terrible effects of fighting, yet even after this, another war is inevitable.
A very powerful work, with very much to recommend it.

(The author provided me with a free copy in exchange for this honest review)
Available on amazon