Prudence » Book Review

Prudence was everything my heart desired. I had been holding off on reading this series because I worried that it wouldn't be as good as The Parasol Protectorate and wouldn't evoke the same sense of love and nostalgia. I needn't have worried.

For those who are unaware, all of Gail Carriger's works (with the exception of a few short stories) take place in this alternate steampunk history where werewolves and vampires have been integrated into British society. Timeline wise, the books start with The Finishing School, followed by The Parasol Protectorate, and then The Custard Protocol.

Please keep in mind that my following review will contain spoilers for The Parasol Protectorate (though I shall endeavor to keep them to a minimum).

Rue & Crew

My favorite aspect of Carriger's books have always been her trademark wit/humor and her characters. Rue is no exception. She isn't a carbon copy of her mother, Alexia, either. And her relationship with her best friend, Primrose (Ivy's daughter), isn't at all like the relationship Alexia had with Ivy in The Parasol Protectorate. This is a relationship between equals and based on a twenty-year devoted friendship. I adored them.

Ivy's twin brother, Percy, is also a part of the crew. He is an academic, and lured aboard to accept the post of Chief Navigator. He brings along Footnote, his cat, and an entire library (which my soul appreciated). And as Rue believes, every ship needs a cat. Hear hear!

Rounding out the crew, we have Quesnel Lefoux, who is the son of Genevieve. He is hired on as the Chief Engineer. He is a ridiculous flirt, and we see a spark of interest flying between Rue and Quesnel. I look forward to seeing how that will progress. I love the way Carriger has developed the romance between characters throughout all her novels, so I am sure this one will be no different.

"Rue gave a little mental sigh. No one would ever describe her as deadly attractive. She brightened a bit. Perhaps she could aspire to just deadly?"

Rue & Family

Rue is the biological daughter of Alexia and Conall Maccon, but she was 'officially' raised by our favorite vampire, Lord Akeldama. Lord Akeldama is one of my absolute favorite characters in this Victorian world. I giggle when I picture his sense of fashion, I chuckle when I read his dialogue with his daughter and other valued companions, and I admire his ability to hide his keen mind behind a sense of frivolity.

I love practical Alexia, who referred to her pregnancy within The Parasol Protectorate series as 'infant convenience'. The relationship between Alexia and Rue is just as complicated and fraught with tension as any regular mother/daughter relationship would be.

"I must say, like most daughters, I resent being accused of emulating my mother."

Rue in India

Rue is metanatural, sent on a mission to India by her adopted father Lord Akeldama to acquire a special kind of tea. I was delighted with this premise for two reasons. Firstly, because I adore Indian chai and I wanted to know what Rue would think of it, and secondly, because I was curious about how they would depict India

This quote very accurately sums up Rue's abilities and her relationship to supernatural creatures that are not part of her family:

"Rue raised her bare hands. Her best threat to any supernatural was her metanatural state. Few immortals could face the idea of being mortal, even for a short space of time. It was what made Rue's preternatural mother so universally despised. The idea that not only would he lose his form, but someone else would have access to it, was adding insult to injury. Where a soulless was merely the enemy, a soul-stealer was dishonorable, a defiler of the supernatural state. Rue was not just despised, she was vilified."

In India, we meet vampires (also known as Rakshasas), English soldiers, and some familiar werewolf friends. I was delighted with the intermingling of Indian folklore with the traditional tale of vampires and werewolves. However, as a born Indian, I do have an inherent dislike of British colonial rule that did come up after I concluded the novel. Particularly after Rue did this one thing...

[spoiler]The Varanas (the were-monkeys) and Rakshasas are at an all-out war. Within Hindu mythology, Rakshasas are demons while Varanas fight against them. The eternal enmity makes sense. However, because the vampires and werewolves can co-exist in Britain, Rue expects the same out of these two factions. But the Varanas refuse to be on the same treaty with the Rakshasas and hence, are at a stalemate. Rue talks them into allying with the Shadow Council, and since that is closely aligned with Queen Victoria, essentially means that they are on the same treaty after all. Rue gains the outcome she wants through a semblance of trickery without making a genuine effort to understand the culture. [/spoiler]

While I understood it within the context of the story, upon further reflection, it did aggravate me. Another situation of white people coming and telling another culture what to do, what is right, and what is wrong.

Fashion & Tea

As any fervent Carriger reader would know, fashion, food, and tea play a significant role in all her novels. Hence, there is an exquisite amount of detail paid to dresses, parasols and (my absolute favorite) hats. Tea is required at all times, and delicious goodies are frequently mentioned. I always need a delicious goodness while enjoying a Carriger book. I mention this because I'm aware that there are those out there that find these details frivolous and unentertaining.

I recommend Gail Carriger's books for all those out there who enjoy a healthy dose of whimsy and silliness with their Victorian steampunk.

The next novel Imprudence releases July 19th, 2016.

These Shallow Graves by Jennifer Donnelly » Book Review

I am in awe of how this book made me feel. Ellen believes that it doesn't compare to Donnelly's A Northern Light, so I'm very excited to pick that one up soon and see how These Shallow Graves will measure up against Donnelly's most critically-acclaimed work.

At first glance, I expected it to be a run-of-the-mill mystery with a throwaway romance. In fact, as I was reading, I had picked out a quote that I thought would impeccably sum up the cheesiness of the romance.

"He can only break my ribs, Jo, not my heart."

Nauseating... am I right??

But I was forced to eat my words. As I accompanied Jo on her various jaunts through the city and witnessed her life through her eyes, I realized how similar she and I are (or were). I mentioned briefly in my introduction post about living in a rural part of India during some of my teen years. I lived with my grandmother, mother, baby sister and our maid under strict lock-and-key. Young girls were not to be out and about unaccompanied, let alone be out past twilight. There were rules about proper behavior, who I was allowed and not allowed to socialize with. And by god, I was not to tarnish the family's reputation. Her struggles, were my struggles.

“Why is it, she wondered now, that boys get to do things and be things and girls only get to watch?”

I loved Jo, because she is a realistic character. Even the romance (which I initially scoffed at), and the love triangle (which as a rule, I utterly detest) didn't drive her story. It just happened to be her life. As a young heiress, she was expected to wed, and wed well. It is her love for her father, and her noble notion of justice that drives her story of personal growth. While she made romantic decisions that I thought were hasty or foolish, they remained true to who she is. And above all, there were realistic consequences for her decisions. Her poor choices and in turn, the reactions of the characters around her helped her evolve and understand herself better, and in turn, make better decisions for herself in the future.

“You, on the other hand, wish to know things. And no one can forgive a girl for that.”

“That was what people did when they wanted to stop a girl from doing something—they shamed her.”

I also was very pleased with Nellie Bly as an inspirational figure to Jo. Nellie Bly is a reporter that Jo admires both for her accomplishments in a male-dominated field of journalism as well as her compassion for the 'invisible' people that pass through New York City. It hits me close to home because THIS is why it is so important to have women and minorities (of any kind, whether it is race or gender or sexual orientation) have such important roles in society. They inspire current and future generations to follow their path and further their path. Nellie Bly is the reason that Jo developed her strong sense of ethics, which I greatly admired.

“Headstrong is just a word, Katie - a word others call you when you don't do what they want.”

I'm sure some of you are curious about why I am gushing so much about this book since I didn't give it a full 5 or even 4.5 stars. That had to do with the mystery element and the pacing of it. Perhaps I have simply watched too many crime shows and read too many books and hence can spot a red herring a mile away. I figured out who the villain was within the first third of the book. I had guessed everything, except for one important surprise. However, I still enjoyed Jo's and Eddie's adventures mainly because they took me all around New York and it was fascinating to be there. My favorite scene occurred when Jo was walking along a bridge (maybe the Brooklyn bridge..?) with a friend, and I could just picture how exhilarating that must have been. I think that's the wonderful thing about historical fiction for me, when compared to fantasy. It's easier for me to picture and imagine that this actually happened. The next time I go to New York, I will walk alongside a bridge and smile to myself as I picture Fay and Jo Montfort.

“We who have means and a voice must use them to help those who have neither. Yet how can we help them if we don't even know about them? And how can we know about them if no one writes about them? Is it so wrong to want to know things?”

The Subtle Knife » Review

In the sequel to The Golden Compass, Phillip Pullman shows how a book can be totally different from its predecessor while still holding true to the style and heart of the original.

At the end of His Dark Materials' first installment, Lyra and her daemon, Pantalaimon, stepped through a rift in the universe and into a parallel world.  Needless to say, I was anxious to see how Lyra was faring and where she went.  Masterfully, however, Pullman draws out the suspense by introducing us to a new protagonist, Will Parry, who lives in a place readers are quite familiar with.

After becoming immersed in the alternate Britain of the first book, it was somewhat jarring to encounter our own, modern world.  I thought it was pretty genius, however, making His Dark Materials into a more complex fantasy.  The interplay between the worlds was fantastic, as we soon see, for early in the book, Will stumbles into a parallel universe himself and bumps right into Lyra Silvertongue.

The chemistry between Will and Lyra was fantastic, but not in a romantic sense.  Their interactions were dynamic because they're such fundamentally different people.  Will is very much an adult before his years, solid and responsible, while Lyra is like the spirit of childhood, clever and minxish.  The two were at delicious odds when they first meet. However, what Will and Lyra both are is resourceful, and pretty soon, they've created an intriguing plot for readers to follow.

Our slew of villainous adults from book one are back in The Subtle Knife, with even more adversaries thrown into the mix for good measure.  We have Mrs. Coulter, beautiful, charismatic, and charming, with her true nature revealed by her infernal monkey daemon.  Then there is Lord Asriel, seemingly a force for good but willing to do incredibly evil things.  The fact that Coulter and Asriel are Lyra's true parents, well, it makes matters even more complex.  Such intriguing questions emerge. Do Coulter and Asriel have love for their daughter inside their hearts, at all?  And how much of her parents' characters is made manifest in Lyra?

The Subtle Knife was an outstanding book, straddling the line between middle grade and young adult.  In the end though, the book is ageless.

Six of Crows » Review

I love this book so much I carry it around with me when I go places. I love it so much that I mark it up with colored pens so I can figure out how Leigh Bardugo writes so well. I love it so much that I'm currently reading everything Bardugo has written. I love it so much that I've read the book five times over already, and it hasn't even been a month since its release.

Part of the reason I love it is that I'm currently writing an industrial fantasy adventure and Six of Crows happens to be an industrial fantasy adventure. It's a little niche off of steampunk that I love. So right away the genre of this book had me. There are all the issues that come from the setting being on the cusp of modernity, there's a healthy dose of magic, and there's action, risk, and suspense. Love it!

Another aspect I adored was the character development. The book follows a team of criminals and has an ensemble narration, with clearly defined arc for each character. Mechanically, the character arcs were neat and well done. Emotionally, they were compelling.

My favorite characters, though I loved them all, were Kaz and Inej. Kaz is the perfect anti-hero, a twisted and dark criminal genius, who happens to still be a teenager and working his way to the top. Inej is a former sex slave that Kaz rescued and turned into his own personal spy, redirecting her skills in acrobatic performance.  Their relationship is so compelling.  I could seriously write an essay on their relationship, their dynamics are so complex.

There's also Jesper, a combat savant with a nasty gambling addiction. There's Nina, a grisha Heartrender — a throwback connection to Bardugo's Shadow and Bone series. There's Matthias, a Nordic-inspired giant who worked as a grisha hunter before he was imprisoned on a hellish island. And then there's Wylan. Poor Wylan is the only member of the team who doesn't get POV chapters, so as of now, I'd call him a more peripheral character. He has a privileged background, but threw it all away because of his principles.



The book starts out with a chapter that could turn off readers, because it slides into the action indirectly and gradually, through the POV of a redshirt. Chapter two is when we get introduced to Inej, and from there, I can't see readers having a problem sticking with the book. It sinks its claws in.

As for the plot, I think Bardugo did a marvelous job in making things believable. There were a few instances where I questioned plausibility, but for a heist novel, it was pretty solid. Bardugo also did fantastic work in weaving quiet moments into the action. I just want to give her a standing ovation.

Already, I'm plotting how to get my greedy paws on the sequel, Empire of Crows as soon as I possibly can. Six of Crows ended on a bit of a cliffhanger, setting up book two perfectly. This is going to be an amazing series, everyone.

Also, I entered a contest to get my name inserted in the second book.  This is my entry.



 

Series Review Part 1 » Percy Jackson and the Olympians

I babysit for a family that has a serious book collection.  When I'm at their house, I like to browse the titles and be impressed.  They have non-fiction, adult fiction, YA, middle grade, and children's books.  The breadth is staggering. They own complete series, that match.  (So impressive.) There are plenty of books I've heard of, but haven't read, and these intrigue me the most.  I look at those undiscovered books and wish I was there to read instead of babysit.

One night at their house, I broke and reached for The Lightning Thief.  

"Are you going to read?" asked my charge with a mixture of disbelief and bemusement. (He had just lugged out his G.I. Joe collection.)

"Just a tad," I replied. I had never read the Percy Jackson series.  They were released round about when I reached my John Grisham phase of reading, which went on for many years.  By the time I emerged from that, I wasn't a kid anymore, and Percy Jackson was off my radar.  But that night, while babysitting, surrounded by a treasure trove of middle grade literature, my curiosity led me to pluck book one off the shelf.

I made it through a single chapter before the guilt overcame me, and I re-absorbed myself in the uninteresting world of G. I. Joes, to my charge's approval.  Though, hours later, when bed time came, I lobbied hard for The Lightning Thief to be the night's read.  My charge acquiesced.  Three chapters later, we were at the part where the Fates are going after Percy's lifespan with their snippy-snappy scissors, and the 7 year-old next to me was terrified.

"This is scary!" he whimpered pitifully, clutching himself to my protective breast.  You're not going to be able to handle Lord Voldemort for quite a few years yet, boyo, I thought. We put The Lightning Thief aside and read Diary of a Wimpy Kid.

It was with eagerness and anticipation the next morning that I trekked to the public library to check out the full Percy Jackson series, although it was with waning pleasure that I read through The Lightning Thief, The Sea of Monsters, and The Titan's Curse.  Part of the disconnect came from me being older than the age target, yes.  There was also the part of me that attended classical cottage school and happens to be a Greek mythology purist that was all sorts of conflicted.

In the end, I can come to terms with Riordan's modern usage of classical Greek myth.   I mean, what do I expect, kids to learn mythology straight from the mouth of Ovid? Even the tome I learned from was illustrated! Really, Riordan puts a fun spin on everything, especially the seedier business of gods having flings with mortals.  He even suggests that goddesses can run around on their husbands without reparation. (Really, if Hera ever had an affair, Zeus would fling her into Tartarus, I'm sure.) I'd be horrified that youths were reading about adults cheating on their spouses and having reckless sex, only I read about this stuff as a child, myself.

Mostly though, I found the ceaseless repetition of the books to be tiresome.  With each book I've read so far, Percy has arrived at camp for the summer, encountered a problem, gone on a quest, and returned triumphant.  I find the quest portions of the  books to be especially redundant, with Percy flitting from challenge to challenge, encountering mythological monsters updated for modern times, one after the other.  At times, it felt like Riordan was moving through a checklist. Cerberus. Check. Medusa. Check. Scylla and Charybdis. Check. 

The fact that Riordan's books are such massive hits speaks for itself, however.  Despite their falling short of masterpiece status, there's something about these books that many people find highly appealing.  It's a classic hero tale and adventure lark that fits Joseph Cambell's theory of plot to a T.  But, despite speaking to the visceral human understanding of story, these books just haven't grabbed me yet.

Saga: Volume Five » Review

In Saga: Volume Five, writer Brian K. Vaughan and artist Fiona Staples present us with five new chapters in their sprawling space-epic.  If you've been following the series, you know that Volume Four ended on a bit of a low note. Shit continues to blow around in Volume Five, but I'm pleased to say that I'm either getting tougher or the storyline has stabilized a tad.  Many readers love the no-holds-barred aspect of Saga, but my heart can only take so much.

Don't get me wrong... Volume Five sees several character deaths, as well as plenty of gore, violence, and obscenity.  The Saga we know and love is still kicking.

In these five chapters, we switch around amongst three different locales and casts.  Hazel, Alana, and Klara have been taken away by Dengo, a rogue robot, who's stolen IV's baby son.  IV and Marko have teamed up and are in hot pursuit, taking baby seal look-alike Ghüs and Alana's old drug dealer, Yuma, along for the ride.  Our third principal plotline involves Gwen, Sophie, The Brand, and Lying Cat, in their quest to acquire dragon jizz to save the comatose bounty hunter The Will.

While Brian K. Vaughan should get tons of credit for his concept and script, Fiona Staples continues to take the series to the next level with her artwork.  As every critic and their mother have noted, Staples conveys the subtlest emotions with minimal, sparing lines.  It's flat-out incredible. Her panel arrangement is cinematic.  Her pacing is spot-on, utilizing that reaction shot before the revelation.  Remember the monster with the huge, warty balls earlier in the series?  We have something similar in Volume Five. This is our warning before we turn the page...

[caption id="attachment_837" align="aligncenter" width="518"] It's that bad.[/caption]

As for the writing, it's sparse and efficient, comprised of that mixture of English, bastardized Esperanto, and profanity we're now familiar with.  The characterization does not suffer for the brevity of language, however.  Saga is populated with a distinct and varied cast.  In regards to the major characters,  Volume Five sees Vaughan shift his developmental efforts away from Alana, who was a big focus of Volume Four, and towards Marko.  Remember how Volume Two delved into Marko's violent impulses and the reasons behind his pacifist turn? Volume Five takes Marko on a u-turn to some... interesting... places.

The pacing is not unlike that of a roller coaster. Because each chapter is released separately in comic book stores, many weeks apart, each short segment has its own plot triangle — up, up, up, up, do000000wn, up, down.  In this collection of five chapter segments, that makes for a lot of up and down.  Consuming Saga causes reading whiplash.  It's a wild ride, but a highly thrilling one.

A Darker Shade of Magic | Review

As a huge fan of Schwab's Vicious, I was really expecting to enjoy A Darker Shade of Magic more.  This is not to say I didn't like the book — in fact, I thought it was very well-written.  Schwab is an excellent writer. However, I find myself thirsting for the sequel, for the further development of the characters and worlds, far more than I want to re-read the exploits of book one.

The novel begins with a long exposition and a lulled state of action.  We meet Kell, a young man and magician who possesses enough oomph to cross over into parallel worlds.  His stomping grounds are a number of different Londons, which he keeps straight by assigning them colors — red London, grey London, and white London.  (If this novel was ever made into a motion picture, I bet the art directors would have a heyday.)

Kell, with all his formidable powers, was adopted by the royals of red London as a child.  In his brother's, Prince Rye's, eyes, Kell is a part of the family.  Kell, however, feels like a possession.  This resentment causes Kell to lash out in a particularly treasonous way — by smuggling objects to and from different Londons.  His naughty habit is all going well until, one day, someone presses an unstable magical artifact from the fabled, forgotten, forbidden black London into Kell's hands.  In a world of trouble, Kell flees into grey London, where he runs into a wanted criminal by the name of Delilah Bard, who is quite eager to join in on Kell's misadventure, by force if necessary.

What bothered me about A Darker Shade of Magic was the unrealized potential of all of the characters. We only got to know three of them somewhat well — Kell, Lilah, and Rye — and I was still left wanting more detail, more motivations, more backstory, just more!  You'd think that with only three major characters, there would be plenty of room for their development.  However, most of the words of the novel were spent on a plot that I cared quite little about.  I hope that Schwab was just holding back, with books two and three in mind.

These frustrations should provoke me to give this book a lower rating than 3.5 stars, but I am quite eager to read book two.  I plan to withhold my judgement of the series until after I read 2016's A Gathering of Shadows. 

The Viper and the Urchin Review

This book came to my attention when the author emailed me, saying she'd seen that I'd reviewed and liked Lindsay Buroker's self-published Emperor's Edge series, and would I be interested in reviewing her own book, which held similarities to Buroker's work?

Well.  As an utter fanatic of The Emperor's Edge and its sequels, I search ceaselessly for books that recapture Buroker's style and magic.  Of course, I wrote the author back, saying yes, please send me your book!  At once! — I mentally added.

Now, having finished reading it, I can say that The Viper and the Urchin was a short, solid start to what looks to be a series with potential.  It indeed holds similarities to Buroker's Emperor's Edge —  they are both set in a industrial fantasy setting, with mild steampunk elements.  There are assassins, whose names both end in "us" — although Jeanjean's deadly alchemist Longinus is decidedly different from Buroker's consummate killer, Sicarius.

I didn't know what to make of Longinus at first.  I was slow to wrap my head around such a foppish — at times foolish — assassin.  As the novel drew onwards, I began to find him slightly endearing, although the brevity of the book, 262 pages, was not enough to explain his motivations for killing fully. He seems to be a gentler soul, so why is he drawn to murder? Besides [spoiler]it being his family's trade.[/spoiler] I hope my questions regarding this will be answered in Jeanjean's upcoming installments.

Longinus was not the only protagonist, however.  He shares narration with Rory, an 18 year-old city urchin who harbors ambitions of becoming a great swordsman, like her idol, the Scarred Woman.  Rory was your typical scrappy heroine, who has a heart of gold buried beneath the law-breaking behavior adopted to help her survive the cruel streets.  She discovers some embarrassing information about Longinus, and blackmails him — her secrecy in exchange for lessons in dueling.

Neither of these characters really flew off of the page for me, but I do have hope that they'll slowly be built up over time.

Where The Viper and the Urchin really impressed me was its political intrigue.  The story takes place in a tiny, muggy, little country called Damsport, which used to be the property of an empire about 45 years ago, give or take a decade.  Independence was won by Damsport's young Marchioness who then made a series of brilliant political maneuvers, turning Damsport into an international trade center.  When the empire tried to take Damsport back into the fold, the little country waged a Thermopolyae-esque stand, in time for its allies to push the empire back.  The emperor has been bitter ever since.

This aspect of the story really held my attention.  Going forward, it seems as if the politics will continue to develop, which is excellent.

The style of writing was good, at times showing signs of beginner wobbles, but solid all the same.  I particularly liked a descriptive passage that described Damsport's Wet Market:

The Wet Market was the centre of the Great Bazaar, and therefore the very heart of Damsport. But whereas most hearts pulsate, pumping out life’s blood, Damsport’s heart dripped.  Live fish and crustaceans dripped sea water onto the cobblestones, and dead fish dripped murky viscera. Blood dripped from meat cleavers, whey from cheesecloths, ale through the cracks of poorly constructed barrels, and piss from table legs, attesting to the passage of a stray dog.

Milk dripped from jugs, from udders, from chins; berries dripped juice, makeshift awnings dripped leftover rainwater, and priests dripped holy water. Sweat dripped from the faces of porters, bent under heavy loads, wine dripped down the chins of those checking its quality, and snot dripped from children’s and old men’s noses.  Fat dripped from sausages, dripping dripped from fried fish, vinegar dripped from prawn dumplings, eaten by hand straight from enormous bamboo steamers. Beer dripped from spilt tankards, mud-coloured tobacco water from water pipes, wine from broken bottles, brandy from over-hurried gulps, fire liquor from glasses dashed onto the cobbles, tea from teapot spouts, and more urine dripped from over-refreshed men.

All of it drip-drip-dripped onto the Wet Market’s cobblestones, found its way to the gutters, and trickled off along each of the Twelve, gathering speed thanks to the gentle downward slopes, and carrying the lifeblood and stench of the Wet Market out to the rest of Damsport.

A tad long-winded, but very evocative!

All in all, I give The Viper and the Urchin 3.5 stars — I liked the book and intend to follow the series, but the brevity of the novel and its subsequent lack of development makes me hesitant to rank it higher.  However, The Viper and the Urchin left me wanting more — truly a good sign. I very much look forward to seeing how Celine Jeanjean unfolds her debut series.

 

 

 

An Ember In the Ashes Review

An Ember In the Ashes is a great example of a book that was harmed by its hype. The publicity for this book was such that anyone who remotely followed the ins and outs of YA fiction would have Tahir's debut on their radar. For an obsessive YA reader like me, An Ember In the Ashes was practically jumping up and down on the horizon. I couldn't wait to get my mits on this book.

From all of the advance praise, I was expecting a near perfect adventure novel. What I wound up reading was good, interesting, and compelling, but ultimately problematic. And it was mostly problematic because I expected so much more from it.

An Ember In the Ashes takes place in an alternate past, one where a martial empire has come into power due to their incredible abilities in metallurgy. While they've forged reasonable treaties with a number of conquered peoples, the Martial have been especially brutal towards a race of people called the Scholars.

Laia, one of our protagonists, is one of the few Scholars who knows how to read. To have this knowledge is punishable, but for having such a dangerous ability, Laia is a meek girl. Her story opens brutally, and Laia makes cowardly decisions. Ashamed, Laia becomes determined to save her brother and regain her honor, leading her down a dangerous path of espionage.

Elias, our other protagonist, is about to graduate from a prestigious Martial military academy. He also plots to desert while the festivities are underway. His plans are derailed when Martial soothsayers tap him to compete to become the next Martial emperor.

The great thing about this book is the steep stakes of the plot. Both Laia and Elias veer constantly towards death! There are no boring parts in this book.  I will most definitely be reading the novel's sequel. Sabaa Tahir, the author, took six years to write An Ember In the Ashes, but had said this was mostly due to the learning curve of writing fiction. She expects her book's sequel to take less time. I am excited to see how the story continues to develop.

But, now that I've given the book it's just praise, I want to talk about why I can't jump up and down, raving over it. The interpersonal drama was a bit of a mess. The interactions between characters grew repetitive, the same angsty moments and conversations happening over and over again. There was a tiresome love rhombus I could have done without. The competition for emperor had some lame moments. Everyone kept blacking out and waking up in the infirmary and had to be told what happened.

All in all, An Ember In the Ashes was a solid YA offering, but certainly not the second coming of The Hunger Games. I look forward to the second installment, but will be waiting more patiently this time around.

Saga Review (Volumes 1-3)

I've flipped through a couple of graphic novels in the past, very briefly. I'm usually at the library when I've done this and I've always put them back on the shelf, thinking, not for me.  Well, if graphic novels are like Saga, they're for me.

I kept seeing Saga pop up on the websites and social media feeds of my reviewer pals — Sierra, Joy, Megan.  Eventually, due to FOBLO (Fear Of Being Left Out) I decided to broaden my horizons.

So glad I did!

Saga is a space adventure, a space romance, and a space... well, a space family saga.  Our narrator is Hazel, and she is telling us her story, which is also the tale of many other people.  Or perhaps I should say, it is also the tale of many other beings. 

The overarching plot centers upon two waring planets — the immense Landfall, full of winged humanoids, and its smaller moon, Wreath, inhabited by horned humanoids.  The Horns and the Wings loathe each other and have spread their vicious conflict throughout the galaxy.  Hazel's parents happen to be a winged mother (a former prison guard) and a horned father (a former prisoner).  They've fallen in love, run off together, and produced Hazel.  The higher-ups of the Wings and Horns have caught wind of the union and both send killers to dispatch the couple.

The first three volumes of Saga have seen Alana and Marko, Hazel's parents, dodging death at every turn, and attempting to raise their daughter in midst of chaos.  We also get to follow the adventures of the killers who are after the little family, and their stories are no less compelling.  There's robot royalty, a lie-detecting cat creature, a guild of bounty hunters, tabloid reporters, and an ex-fiance, all closing in.

The creativity of Brian K. Vaughan, the series creator and writer, is astounding.  I'm not sure if all graphic novels are like this, but reading Saga made me think of when I'm babysitting and the kids ask for a bedtime story.  When you're making up a story AND AT THE SAME TIME SPEAKING IT, the weirdest, random-est things come to you! Saga had that same feeling of spontaneity.  This is story spinning at its finest.

There is almost constant action, but Vaughan manages to sneak in little moments of love, of humor, of outrageousness throughout.  The artist, Fiona Staples, is no less important to the storytelling as well.  Her illustrations are stunning.  Just, wow. I was especially impressed by her figures (drawings of the human body).  The vividness of the expressions, the movement of the forms all compliment and contribute to Vaughan's words.  Again, I don't know much about graphic novels, but Vaughan and Staples seem to have a harmonious union of text and image.

Saga is a beautiful and exciting story, conveyed by beautiful and exciting pictures.  I give this series five north stars out of five!