EDITOR'S NOTE: Fantasy Magazine book reviewers include Stefan Dziemianowicz, Paula Guran, Rich Horton, Stuart Jaffee, and Victoria Strauss.
D*U*C*K
Poppy Z. Brite
Subterranean Press, $35 (137p)
ISBN: 978-1-596-06076-0
There is only one fantasy element in D*U*C*K, but it is a big one: Hurricane Katrina never happened. Marking her first piece of original fiction since New Orleans suffered at the hands of nature and government, Poppy Z. Brite creates a novella around her well-loved chefs, Rickey and G-man, and their famous restaurant, Liquor. After a few bad turns, Rickey gets the chance to cater an annual banquet for a hunter/conservationist group called Ducks Unlimited. More importantly, the guest of honor is Rickey’s childhood hero, former New Orleans Saints quarterback Bobby Hebert. This simple tale is deceptive, however, as much emotion simmers beneath the surface. The characters suffer the shackles society forces upon them, yet they do so with a smile. To the very last sentence, though, the reader knows this is fantasy: All the rises and falls of Rickey and G-man could never have happened because their city was under water. In one sense, Brite has created a love letter, a friendly nod, and an obituary for her city; in another, it is a cathartic journey for the author. For the reader, D*U*C*K is a small tale about regular folks and their regular troubles, but one in which humor, love, fear are all abundantly present. Brite’s straight-forward style captures tremendous emotion, even from a mundane event. Considering what the real New Orleans still looks like, D*U*C*K is a fantastic piece of wish fullfillment.
SCAR NIGHT
Alan Campbell
Bantam Spectra, $22 (421p)
ISBN: 978-0-553-38416-1
Thousands of years ago, the goddess Ayen, as punishment for human wickedness, sealed the gates of Heaven and consigned mortal souls to the bloody corridors of Iril. Her sons, who raised an army to oppose her, were cast into an abyss. According to legend her eldest, Ulcis, god of chains, will one day raise another army and overthrow her. Till then, Ulcis abides in the abyss, sheltering the souls of the dead so they will be spared Iril’s torments. A great temple built on chains straddles the abyss, sacred to Ulcis and the service of the dead; around it has grown the city of Deepgate. In the temple lives the boy Dill, a descendant of Ayen’s son Callis, first of the temple archons. Dill is an archon too, but over the centuries his position has become purely ceremonial — he’s a virtual prisoner of the Church, untrained in martial arts and forbidden to use his wings. Just come of age, he has been assigned a guardian, the Spine assassin Rachel. They take an instant dislike to one another. But when a madman’s betrayal threatens to destroy Deepgate, Dill and Rachel are forced to join forces. Enlisting the help of the psychotic angel Carnival, they descend into the abyss to beg for Ulcis’s help — but what they find in the depths is nothing like what they have been taught to believe. Ghormengast meets Hellraiser in this exciting, intensely atmospheric debut, which blends fantasy, horror, and warped Christian imagery to thrillingly original effect. Novels about angels and demons and cosmic wars are thick on the ground lately, but Campbell doesn’t take these concepts anywhere you might expect, and his angels — some disarmingly human, others truly monstrous — are not like any you’ve met before. Other memorable characters include the mad poisoner Alexander Devon, whose insanity bubbles with demented humor, the stubborn scavenger Mr. Nettle, who won’t let even Hell get in his way — and the city of Deepgate itself, its shadowy, chain-wrapped neighborhoods teeming with strange inhabitants and stranger traditions, its labyrinthine temple crammed with the detritus of millennia. This well-written novel grips from start to finish, utterly immersing readers in its dark and twisted world. Campbell does commit one sin — a whopper of a cliffhanger ending — but readers panting for the next installment will surely forgive him this indulgence.
INK: THE BOOK OF ALL HOURS
Hal Duncan
Del Rey, $15.95 (544p)
ISBN: 978-0-345-48733-9
If you thought Vellum was brilliant, then Ink, its sequel, is likely to sustain your impression that Hal Duncan is madly original and most certainly a Major New Voice in Fantasy. Whether one can really appreciate Ink without reading Vellum, is, however, debatable. Even though Ink is not a true continuation, it is indubitably the second half (or the latter two of four seasonal volumes) of The Book of All Hours. Unlike Vellum, which first coyly entices the reader with seeming simplicity, Ink’s metaphysical complexity and metafictional mindfuck is there right from the start. This is as it should be, of course, we already know that reality was sundered by the Evenfall; are aware of the Cant, the language that can change/reprogram reality; and the band of four (no, seven) souls, creatures of the vellum and the ink (the timescape of the Vellum and the bitmites that grave it) whose multiple stories we wander in and out of. Where Vellum’s focus was on the girl/woman Phreedom and Promethean Seamus Finan, Ink concentrates most closely on various versions of the subversive hero/anti-hero Jack Flash (often as seen by Thomas Messenger). Using a performance of a Harlequinade version of Euripides’ The Bacchae as both a metaphor and a narrative thread, weaving in myths and a retro-soundtrack of punk and rock mostly from the sixties through the eighties, Duncan eventually completes the story arc begun in Vellum. Like Moorcock, Duncan doesn’t see the multiverse in terms of a battle of chaos vs. order so much as a balance (or lack thereof) of the two. He also sees human history as so horrific that any objective viewer would either deny it or try to re-write it. Stunning, epic, sublime, and powerful, Ink compels you to start again with Vellum and take Duncan’s long strange trip again with even more admiration and understanding.
YOU DON’T SCARE ME
John Farris
Tor, $24.95 (301p)
ISBN: 978-0-312-85064-7
When Yale campus cop and failed divinity student Adam Cameron rescues mathematician Chase Emrick from the middle of a traffic-crowded street — where, temporarily blinded by a recurring neurological problem, she has gotten stranded — he falls instantly in love with her. At first reluctant to accept his advances, she succumbs at last. But the first night they sleep together, Adam is visited by a phantom, a huge, snarling dog with greenish-yellow eyes which materializes out of the empty fireplace. The dog, he learns, belonged to Crow Tillman, the hard-drinking, womanizing Georgia lowlife who married and murdered Chase’s mother, and raped Chase. Crow shot himself rather than surrender to police — but he’s not dead, or not all the way. His soul inhabits the Netherworld, a dimension between our world and whatever lies beyond. Some souls are trapped in the Netherworld, but Crow is there by choice — Chase belongs to him, and if he can’t have her, no one will. Everyone she has ever loved has suffered a horrible fate. Adam is convinced he can protect her, and that together, they can find a way to banish Crow Tillman forever. Thus begins a deadly otherworldly game of cat and mouse, a journey into pure evil. Part dark fantasy, part Southern gothic, You Don’t Scare Me is a fast-paced supernatural thriller whose slim page count packs the punch of a much longer novel. The atmosphere of menace is unrelenting; the horror is subtle, but it’s all the more chilling for being understated. Crow Tillman is a figure of archetypal evil, all the bogeymen of every scary story rolled into one; his power isn’t unlimited, but his will is, and that, far more than the awful things he does to Chase and those she loves, is what makes him so terrifying. Farris captures the rhythms of Southern speech and the feel of the rural South with authenticity, and his doomed protagonists are complex and believable. A fine, creepy read.
MAJESTRUM
Matthew Hughes
Night Shade, $24.95 (209p)
ISBN: 1-59780-061-9
Matthew Hughes has published three previous novels and a number of shorter works set in the penultimate age of Old Earth: the era just prior to that depicted in Jack Vance’s The Dying Earth. Originally rather overt Vancean pastiches, the stories have grown in individuality. Several have concerned Henghis Hapthorn, a freelance discriminator. Hapthorn is a rational man, very proud of his abilities, and dismissive of irrationalities such as magic. But a trip to another dimension — after which his “integrator” (a sort of AI assistant) is transformed to more of a “familiar” and his intuitive side awakens and takes up an independent existence within his head — convinces him his day will soon be over, the Wheel will turn, and the next Aeon, dominated by magic, will come. This story advances that aspect of things considerably, and also provides a link with his previous novel Fool Me Twice, which concerned the ascension of one Filidor Vesh to the position of Archon, supreme ruler of Old Earth. In this novel Hapthorn is engaged by the Archon to investigate what seems to be a plot against him. Various individuals have been horribly murdered, with body parts stolen. This may be linked to a strange book Hapthorn has found, and which book fascinates his intuitive other self. It also may be linked to another of his cases, in which an aristocratic girl was victimized by a man from offworld. And ultimately it is linked with a tyrant from before the establishment of the Archonate, from another era dominated by magic. The book is droll and clever. The plot is smart enough rather nicely resolved — though clearly there is more to come in future books. Hughes’s Vance-derived prose is always enjoyable — he is not quite Jack Vance, but he does well enough as a substitute. Hapthorn and his sidekicks are good company. A fine entertainment.
THE EXQUISITE
Laird Hunt
Coffee House Press, $14.95 (246p)
ISBN: 978-1-56689-187-5
The Exquisite tells two stories, both set in post-9/11 New York. In one, Henry, the narrator, is a relatively young man who once had “a job and lived in an apartment on the Lower East Side” but has, through a series of downward steps, become dispossessed. Through his friend Tulip, he meets the elderly Aris Kindt, “a weirdo, basically,” who enlists Henry as a mock murderer hired by “victims” who wish to experience (but survive) their own assassinations. In the other story, Henry, still narrating, is hospitalized after a florist’s van hits him on a street. He remains in the hospital past “anything approximating a reasonable interval,” dreaming strange dreams and thieving and selling medications. He is a patient of a Dr. Tulip and meets fellow patient Aris Kindt. Stepping outside of fiction: There was a historical Aris Kindt (Aris the Kid), an alias used by a convicted armed robber whose real name was Adriaan Adriaanszoon. Sentenced to death by hanging, his body was later autopsied by the Amsterdam Guild of Surgeons in January 1632. The autopsy was painted by Rembrandt as “Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp.” German author W.G. Sebald discusses the painting in his book The Rings of Saturn. Sebald,
in his novel, is also taken with lives lived in quiet adversity and the “shadow of annihilation” — a possible description of The Exquisite’s view of post-9/11 New York (or “the events downtown,” as referenced by characters in the novel). The fictional Aris Kindts refers to the portrait-corpse as a “namesake” and “namesake’s namesake.” There are puzzles within puzzles here and Hunt has no intention of solving them. Instead he evokes an atmosphere of disquietude and strangeness and the possibility of several central meanings. Indeed, character Kindt’s fondness for herring can even be taken as a warning of “red herrings.” The Exquisite is open to the individual reader’s interpretation(s) and a fascinating example of how the fantastic can intersect (a verb that can mean “to cut/dissect” or “to cross/converge”) with the “experimental” in fiction.
THE PINHOE EGG
Diana Wynne Jones
Greenwillow, $17.99 (515p)
ISBN: 0-06-113124-5
Diana Wynne Jones is one of the most entertaining fantasy writers of our time. One of her most popular series concerns a powerful enchanter called the Chrestomanci, who is in charge of policing magic use across multiple universes. The latest Chrestomanci book is The Pinhoe Egg. In this new novel several families of witches, led by the Pinhoes (who live in Chrestomanci’s neighborhood), have hidden their talents for centuries. They fear Chrestomanci’s rule and, it turns out, they are doing some unsavory things. Their leader is Gammer Pinhoe, a very old woman whose husband disappeared years before. She, it appears, is going senile. The presumptive next Gammer is her granddaughter Marianne, but Marianne is not very happy with most of her family. In the wake of Gammer’s problems, Marianne’s brother Joe is sent as a spy to Chrestomanci Castle, and Gammer’s old house is sold to a young couple, the Yeldhams, friends of Chrestomanci (though Mrs. Yeldham is a long-lost Pinhoe). Marianne meets Cat Chant, in training to be the next Chrestomanci, and manages to give Cat a mysterious object that turns out to be a griffin’s egg. At the same time Joe Pinhoe and Roger Chant are experimenting with flying machines. Cat is trying to figure out why there is a magical barrier between the Castle and the Pinhoe’s village. Marianne is mad at Gammer, who seems to have started a magical war between the Pinhoes and another witchy family, the Farleighs, beginning with little things like itches and frogs, but escalating to terrible things like smallpox attacks. Marianne and Cat start to work together to try to stop Gammer, and to learn why the Pinhoes and Farleighs seem so misguided. It’s all very engaging — the characters are delights, the mysteries unveiled are interesting. Things may work out just a tad too easily in some ways, and there is a sense of magic doing just what the author needs when she needs it, that old bugaboo of so much fantasy — but the book remains a good deal of fun.
OFFSPRING
Jack Ketchum
Overlook Connection, $17.95 (243p)
ISBN: 1-892950-78-2
Those who survived Jack Ketchum’s cannibal tale Off Season back in 1980, had to wait eleven years for a sequel. Ketchum doesn’t care for sequels in the first place, but he overcame his distaste and produced Offspring, a book every bit as brutal, graphic, and terrifying as the original. The second book’s plot is similar to the first — a group of everyday people with everyday problems are viciously attacked by the cannibalistic clan living in the caves of the Maine seacoast. Over the course of twenty-four hours, the reader endures with the characters, never sure who will live, who will die, and who will wish they had had the opposite outcome. The twisted clan inflicts horrible tortures upon their victims while the police and others attempt to locate and possibly help the survivors. Ketchum never lets the pressure off and, for that, the reader can be thankful. Offspiring ranks with Off Season and The Girl Next Door, delivering Ketchum’s signature fast-paced storytelling that still somehow finds time to create fully-developed characters. His sentences are short and crisp and manage to form powerful images with minimal effort. Though the book stands on its own, it does play off the reader’s knowledge of the first book, creating frightening moments be-cause of what the reader knows might happen again. It is, simply, everything a horror novel should be.
THE FATE OF MICE
Susan Palwick
Tachyon, $14.95 (240p)
ISBN: 978-1-892391-42-1
Eight previously published and three new stories are compiled in this outstanding collection of well-crafted stories. Palwick has a rare knack for combining poignancy with wit and making a point without preaching. In the title story human language draws Rodney, an IQ-enhanced rodent with electronic vocal chords, into a maze of mice-related stories and human desires. The female werewolf in “Ges-tella” ages at the same rate as a canine — seven years to one human — and, ultimately, the monster in the story is the man she has married. Palwick presents a realistically grim biography of Louisa May Alcott’s fictional Jo March, as well as the hair she sacrificed, in “Jo’s Hair.” “The Old World” views a brave new and perfect world and a old man who cannot cope with the perfection. In “Going After Bobo,” a boy loses a pet and regains a family. A theme of reviving the dead in order to sway the public might have became, in other hands, too pointed, but with “Beautiful Stuff” Palwick avoids preachment by employing dark humor. “Ever After” is a classic of both the vampire and the “reinterpreted fairy tale” genres. In “Stormdusk,” a daughter’s concern for her mother, a snow maiden in human form, shows there are two sides to any fairy tale. “Sorrel’s Heart” is an allegory of nuance and depth. “GI Jesus” is an astute and humorous tale of family, friendship, death, life, and miracles; the story is an example of excellence.
LIFE AS WE KNEW IT
Susan Beth Pfeffer
Harcourt, $17 (337p)
ISBN 978-0-15-205826-5
Miranda is an ordinary teenager, preoccupied with boys, friends, school, fights with her mom, and what she’s going to do this summer. She’s aware of the meteor that’s about to collide with the moon, mainly because several of her teachers have made it the focus of homework assignments. No one, including the experts, really expects that the collision will be more than an interesting astronomical event. They’re wrong. The meteor alters the moon’s orbit, bringing it significantly closer to Earth, disastrously disrupting the climate. Huge tsunamis and tides inundate the coastlines, killing millions of people. Massive volcanic eruptions shroud the sky with ash. As society disintegrates and disease and starvation threaten, Miranda and her family struggle to stay alive, and to hold on to something equally important — hope. Told through Miranda’s diary entries, Life As We Knew It (published as YA, but with crossover appeal for adults) is a frighteningly convincing portrayal of the consequences of catastrophe, and of what people must do — and how they must change — to survive in such circumstances. There are none of the dramatic events or horrific adventures that are common in post-apocalyptic novels; Miranda and her family live far from the tsunamis and volcanoes, and the worsening situation doesn’t bring marauding mobs or vigilante gangs to their quiet Pennsylvania town. Instead, Pfeffer keeps her focus tightly on the everyday — the stockpiling of food and water, the gathering of wood, the growing isolation as families work out their own survival plans, the successive adaptations that must be made to constantly worsening conditions, the increasing ordinariness of death. As the family’s priorities narrow, so does their space: from the world, to the town, to their house, to a single room in their house. It’s a portrayal of total breakdown that’s all the more devastating for being so quiet. In the experience of a single family, the tragedy of the whole world is expressed. Miranda grows up, and discovers her own strength, so naturally that the reader is nearly as surprised as she, at the end, to realize how different she has become. Gripping, compassionate, and admirably unsentimental, this is a truly memorable novel.
MAP OF DREAMS
M. Rickert
Golden Gryphon, $24.95 (316p)
ISBN: 1-930846-44-4
M. Rickert is easily one of the most exciting new writers to appear in the fantasy field over the past several years. Her stories are lyrical and odd, often myth-derived, often intriguingly framed. Story collections for new writers who have not yet published a novel used to be rare, but they are common these days. Sometimes such collections seem too early, but for Rickert such a collection is, if anything, overdue. Indeed, in a sense, she has now published a novel: the title story, new to this collection, is near-novel length at about 40,000 words. (“Map of Dreams,” along with several vignettes also new here, serves as a curious sort of frame for the book — appropriate as Rickert is a contemporary master of the frame story.) It is an absorbing and moving story of a woman overcome by grief after her daughter is murdered by a sniper. Her marriage collapsing, she follows the husband of another of the sniper’s victims to Australia, convinced he has learned to travel in time. This is fine work, but the resolution is a bit too pat and, over its length, the story loses some focus. But the collection also includes some truly outstanding shorter works, beginning with her first published story, “The Girl Who Ate Butterflies.” Other stand-outs include “Anyway,” about the agony of a woman whose son is about to join the military and the terrible choice she is offered; and “The Chambered Fruit,” somewhat reminiscent of “Map of Dreams” as it tells of a mother battling with her grief over a murdered daughter and the effect on her of a girl who claims to hear from the daughter’s ghost. “Angel Face,” about a supposed image of the Virgin and a boy taken with a skeptical girl, is also notable. Rickert does unusual takes on the myth of Leda and the nativity story. This is an essential collection by a superb writer.
KEEPING IT REAL
Justina Robson
Pyr, $15 (341p)
ISBN: 978-1-59102-539-9
Urban elves. No matter how you dress it up or how well you execute it, it’s still a pretty silly concept, but Justina Robson (better known for her thoughtful science fiction) almost makes you forget that in her latest outing. The Quantum Bomb of 2015 altered the fabric of reality, opening doors between the six dimensions: Zoomenon, realm of the elementals; Alfheim, realm of the elves; Demonia, realm of the demons; Otopia, the human realm; Thantopia, realm of the dead; and Faery. Horribly maimed and nearly killed in a magical confrontation in Alfheim, Special Agent Lila Black has been rebuilt as a cyborg — part human, part machine, part weapon. Still integrating her new self, both physically and mentally, she’s assigned bodyguard duty to Zal, the elven lead singer of the rock band The No Shows. Zal, a highborn elf who lives like a human and consorts with demons, is an insult to elf mores, which center on racial and cultural purity; lately, he’s begun receiving death threats, which hint that his demise is at the axis of a Great Spell. When Zal is kidnapped, Lila must join forces with the elf who nearly killed her in order to follow Zal into Alfheim. There she learns that Zal, whose very being has been altered by the years he has spent in other realms, is the key to something far more significant even than a Great Spell. Robson deftly blends science fiction with fantasy: quantum theory and elfland, cyborgs and faeries, high tech weaponry and spectacular sorceries. The story’s SF-nal frame, presented in an unapologetic infodump at the start of the book, is mostly handwaving, but provides an ingenious explanation for the presence of other dimensions; and Lila’s painful awareness of herself as a machine in a world of magic is poignantly portrayed. There’s also plenty of danger and suspense, many fascinating magical beings, and of course, mindblowing elf-sex. The ending leaves room for more adventures (the series’ second installment, Selling Out, is already published in the UK). A fun read even if you’re slightly allergic to elves, and for elf-lovers, absolute manna.
CELLARS
John Shirley
Infrapress $15.95 (262p)
ISBN 0-9742907-8-5
First published as a mass-market paperback in 1982, Cellars has since earned distinction (in the lexicon of critical hindsight) as a proto-splatterpunk novel. Nearly a quarter-of-a-century-and countless disembowelments, dismemberments, exsanguinations, and eviscerations in the name of horror literature later, Shirley’s novel seems neither as outrageous nor as revolting as first perceived. But it is still very provocative. Set in early-1980s New York City, it features a large cast but concentrates on skeptical occult journalist Carl Lanyard, actress Madelaine Springer, and police lieutenant Cyril Gribner, who find themselves caught up in a swirl of gruesome murders that seem to originate in the city’s underground network of subways, sub-basements, utility tunnels, and sewer mains. The crime scenes are invariably decorated with occult symbols drawn with the victims’ gore which appear to point to an ancient cult whose apparent presence in modern Manhattan seems incongruous-at first. Described this way, Cellars sounds like countless other formulaic occult novels of the 1970s and 1980s. What distinguishes it is Shirley’s calculated use of New York City as a context for the horrors. The maggot-ridden Big Apple of the novel’s era was full of urban blight and social decay. The East Village, whose garbage-strewn alleys, burned-out tenements, rat-infested shooting galleries, and abandoned blocks serve as the backdrop for Cellars, crystallized the unthinkable squalor possible in a city that represented the pinnacle modern civilization. Shirley renders the deteriorating city in such grim and gritty detail it is easy to see, as he suggests, a malignant authority carefully cultivating the landscape for a harvest of horrors on which to feed. As in Shirley’s later work the worst horrors are the result of corporate greed and social irresponsibility. More depressing yet, Shirley suggests that for every entrepreneur who would willingly exploit the supernatural to improve his personal fortunes, there are scores of lackeys who would happily line up for service without a twinge of conscience. The text of this novel has been lightly edited since its first publication, but it still reads as powerfully as it did when it debuted.
INDA
Sherwood Smith
DAW, $25.95 (568p)
ISBN: 0-7564-0264-6
Sherwood Smith has written a wide variety of books but for many her best is Crown Duel, a YA book originally published as two novels. The novels were set in a fantasy world she has been working on since childhood and in which she has set many other stories. Inda, her new novel and the first of a series, is something of a distant prequel to Crown Duel (though no knowledge of the other book is required). Inda is not marketed as YA, and it does feature some not-very- explicit sex, but its main characters are all teens or younger, and it’s both appropriate for teen readers as well as being very enjoyable for adults. The title chracter is one of several viewpoint characters. The boy is an aristocrat, son of the sister of the King’s heir’s intended wife. (Marriages in this world seem generally arranged from young childhood with the girl growing up in her intended’s household). Inda is brought to the capital for war training at age ten, where he befriends the King’s second son, called Sponge. Sponge, an intellectual boy, is despised by his mentally handicapped elder brother, the heir, and by his scheming uncle, the Sirandael or “Shield Arm” of the King. But Inda, preternaturally talented at command, befriends Sponge and begins to build a cadre of boys loyal to him, which threatens the plans of the Sirandael. So Inda is framed for a crime and exiled to the sea, while Sponge must make his way alone. Meanwhile the Sirandael embroils his country in an ill-advised occupation of a neighboring land. He also continues to scheme against Sponge and others, including Inda’s also-talented older brother, whose position is further complicated as the King’s heir lusts after his beautiful intended wife. The novel perhaps starts a bit slowly, but it is supremely readable, full of strong action: wargames, land war, and pirate actions at sea; as well as courtly intrigue, a mild amount of interesting magic, and some well-presented sexual tension. After this immensely enjoyable first volume, the reader will eagerly look forward to the the sequel, due in 2007.
WARRENER’S BEASTIE
William R. Trotter
Carroll & Graf, $17.95 (704p)
ISBN: 0-78671-328-3
Drawing upon Norse myth-ology, Trotter’s Warrener’s Beastie follows the life of Allen War-rener from his early youth, when he was inspired by his grandfather to believe in mythic creatures, to his middle age, when he seeks the creatures out. In between, he travels the world (particularly Vardinoy in the Faroe Islands), falls in and out of lust and love, runs into a famous figure or two, fights in a war, and has more coincidences occur than could be swallowed if this were a tale based in reality. Trotter’s best known for his nonfiction Civil War trilogy about North Carolina which was among the source material for Cold Mountain which was, in turn, a re-telling of Homer. As a fable, or more accurately as a tale based on fables, Warrener’s Beastie willfully plays with expectations, and in some ways this serves the text well. The reader cannot assume too much. The characters are complex and intriguing, and the overall story is fascinating and fun. However, a real problem emerges within the text itself. Trotter leans towards an overblown, I-am-an-artist style of writing that hampers the pacing and gets in the way of the story and characters. There is nothing wrong with a beautifully turned phrase or two (or even three), but when language itself tries to compete with the telling of the tale, both elements are harmed. Weighing in at around seven hundred pages, the novel could have been half as long. Cut out all the verbal showiness and Trotter would give the reader a lean and wonderful tale. As it is, the novel is quite satisfying if you are willing to slog through to the end.
THE DEMON AND THE CITY
Liz Williams
Night Shade, $24.95 (242p)
ISBN: 1-5978004-5-7
Liz Williams’s new novel is the second, following Snake Agent, in what appears to be an ongoing series, combining Chinese-influenced fantasy (complete with demons and feng-shui and an Emperor in Heaven) with sf (a near-future setting on an artificial island called Singapore-3) with mystery (the stories are detective stories). The main players are a human, Detective Inspector Chen, and his demon partner, Zhu Irzh. This novel features mostly Zhu Irzh, as Chen spends much of the book on vacation. A series of murders have occurred, and one victim is Deveth Sardai, a spoiled rich girl who was trying to dump her lover Robin Yuan, a poorer young woman working for the large corporation Paugeng. Paugeng is controlled by Jhai Tserai, a one time friend of Deveth’s. But Jhai has her own personal secret — she is not entirely human. Her corporation is also working on something dangerous — experimenting on a captured denizen of Heaven. But Robin Yuan is the worker assigned to this experiment, and she has a crisis of conscience. Zhu Irzh, meanwhile, finds the not-quite-human Jhai Tserai ex-tremely attractive — which is a problem, because she is obviously a suspect. Zhu also finds his undemonlike conscience a problem. Also involved is a feng-shui expert who had run afoul of a previous investigation of Zhu’s: his patron goddess, it seems, may also be embroiled in an ongoing conspiracy linking factions in Hell, on Earth, and in Heaven. The solution to the original mystery is fairly unimportant by the end: what matters is the possible end of the world, as well as a couple of sweet (after a fashion) interwordly love affairs. Enjoyable work, in a series that promises to remain entertaining.
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