Science Fiction

Hurley, Kameron: Rapture (The Bel Dame Apocrypha III) (2012)

Quote 2 Comments

Throughout Nyx’s exile, she didn’t think much about all the men and women she’d beheaded, or the mullahs she’d pissed off, or the mines she’d planted, or the battles she’d lost. She thought about the ring. A bad left hook. Poor footwork. Blood in her eyes. Hornets on the mat. Because everything that happens after you climb out of a boxing ring, one-half of your face ballooning into a waxy blue-black parody of death while you spit bile and blood and some fleshy bit of somebody’s ear on the mat, slowly losing sight in one leaky eye, dragging your shattered, roach-bitten leg behind you … is easy. Routine. Just another day breathing. (p. 2)

Kameron Hurley

Definitely recommended! Freaking amazing trilogy!

My reviews of:

  1. God’s War
  2. Infidel

Rapture available at scribd.com

Cover art by David Palumbo

Adventure, Fantasy

Bishop, Anne: The Pillars of the World (Tir Alainn) (2001)

1 Comment
Artist: Anne Bishop | Source: annebishop.com
Australian Cover
Source: Alexandra v Bach
Cover art: Paul Youll | http://www.paulyoull.com

Reading to my daughter continues to be a pleasure. Our journey through the land of fantasy brought us into the world of Anne Bishop and the trilogy The World of the Fae.

The Pillars of the World is the first book of the series. It works well as a stand-alone novel. Bishop takes us in to a world where one man’s fears changed two countries into places where the gap between the powerful and the powerless becomes unbridgeable. Now the turn has come to Sylvalan.

Misogyny is said to be the hatred and dislike of girls or women. Personally, I believe it is more about fear of the perceived power or potential power of women and girls. Add to that a hunger for an increase in one’s own power and a religion or belief-system is born. Adolfo, the Master Inquisitor, the Witch’s Hammer, carries his misogynism and power hunger to extremes.

She’d never heard of the Evil One until Master Adolfo came to stay with Baron Hirstun. But she knew with absolute certainty that there was such a creature, that the Evil One did, indeed, walk the earth.

And its name was Master Inquisitor Adolfo, the Witch’s Hammer.

He was the very breath of Evil with his quietly spoken words and the gentle sadness in his eyes. Those things were the mask that hid a rotted spirit.

Oh, yes, treat the witch gently so that she may repent. Don’t look upon her limbs so that you won’t be swayed by lust.

The soul-rotted bastard just didn’t want those men to see the welts, the cuts, the burns he had inflicted on her to “help” her confess. The hobbles provided a clever excuse for why she couldn’t walk well. And he certainly hadn’t hesitated to indulge his lust. His rod was as much a tool as the heated poker and the thumbscrews.

While many witches in Sylvalan certainly have enough power to defend themselves, they also have a creed that states “do no harm”. Sometimes such beliefs are also taken to extremes. Not even saving themselves or their loved ones will bring the witches to use their magic to harm another person. Many of them end up being murdered after severe torture and forced confessions to crimes never committed. All for the sake of one man’s insatiable hunger and fear and other men’s envy.

Adolfo’s and his inquisitors’ distrust and dislike of the witches spreads to the rest of the population. We all know what happens when people flock together like sheep following the voice they want to hear rather than that little voice inside their own heads screaming STOP! The few who do try to stop what is happening end up being accused of the crime of “consorting with the Evil one” and killed.

All because of one man’s fears.

Not only the inquisitors regard witches as a lower species. The Fae in eastern Sylvalan consider themselves supreme beings of the earth. To take one’s pleasures with one of the non-fae is considered a right, but if a male fae should happen to breed a child upon one of the lesser species children are not taken care of. Female fae place the baby on the door-step of the father not wishing to sully Tir Alainn with mixed breeds. Tir Alainn is the home of the Fae, the place they venture out from when they want to play with those of lesser worth.

Definitely recommended both as a read-alone and read-together book.

Reviews:

Translations:

Fantasy, Science Fiction, Young Adult

Norton, Andre: High Sorcery (1970)

2 Comments
Artist: Gray Morrow | Source: http://www.fowlervillehistory.org
Artist: Allison | Source: http://www.isfdb.org
Source: Amazon.com
Artist: Steve Hickman | Source: http://www.andre-norton-books.com

Wizard’s World (1967)

His decision had shaken the “hound”. Craike bared teeth in a death’s-head grin. Now the mob would speed up. But their quarry had already chosen a part of the canyon wall where he might pull his tired and aching body up from one hold to another. He moved deliberately now, knowing that, having lost hope, he could throw aside the need for haste. He would be able to accomplish his purpose before they brought a gas rifle to bear on him.

At last he stood on a ledge, the sand and gravel some fifty feet below. For a long moment he rested, steadying himself with both hands braced on the stone. The weird beauty of the desert country was a pattern of violent color under the afternoon sun. Craike breathed slowly; he had regained a measure of control. There came shouts as they sighted him.

He leaned forward and, as if he were diving into the river which had once run there, he hurled himself outward to the clean death he sought.

Through the Needle’s Eye

“She’s a witch, you know!” She teetered back and forth on the boards of the small front porch. “She makes people disappear; maybe she’ll do that to you if you hang around there.”

“Ruthie!” Cousin Althea, her face flushed from baking, stood behind the patched screen. Her daughter was apprehensively quiet as she came out. But I was more interested in what Ruthie had said than any impending scolding.

“Makes people disappear – how?”

“That’s an untruth, Ruthie,” my cousin said firmly. True to her upbringing, Cousin Althea thought the word “lie” coarse. “Never let me hear you say a thing like that about Miss Ruthevan again. She has had a very sad life -“

By a Hair (1958)

Father Hansel had been one of the three Varoff shot out of hand, and there was no longer an open church in the valley. What went on in the oak glade was another matter. First our women drifted there, half ashamed, half defiant, and later they were followed by their men. I do not think the Countess Ana was their priestess. But she knew and condoned. For she had learned many things.

The wise women began to offer more than just comfort of body. It was a queer wild time when men in their despair turned from old beliefs to older ones, from a god of love and peace, to a god of wrath and vengeance. Old knowledge passed by word of mouth from mother to daughter was recalled by such as Mald, and keenly evaluated by the sharper and better-trained brain of the Countess Ana. I will not say that they called upon Odin and Freya (or those behind those Nordic spirits) or lighted the Beltane Fire. But there was a stirring, as if something long sleeping turned and stretched in its supposed grave.

 Ully the Piper

There was only one among them who was not satisfied with things as they comfortably were, because for him there was no comfort. Ully of the hands was not the smallest, nor the youngest of the lads of Coomb Brackett – he was the different one. Longing to be as the rest filled him sometimes with pain he could hardly bear.

He sat on his small cart and watched the rest off to the feasting on May Day and Harvest home; and he watched them dance Rings Around following the smoking great roast at Yule – his clever hands folded in upon themselves until the nails bit sorely into the flesh of his palms.

Toys of Tamisan (1969)

“If you have any wish, tell it to Porpae.” Kas dropped his hold on her arm and turned to the door. “When Lord Starrex wishes to dream, he will send for you.”

“I am at his command,” she mumbled; it was the proper response.

She watched Kas leave and the looked at Porpae. Tamisan had cause to believe that the android was programmed to record her every move. But would anyone here believe that a dreamer had any desire to be free? A dreamer wished only to dream; it was her life, her entire life. To leave a place which did all to foster such a life – that would be akin to self-killing, something a certified dreamer could not think on.

Goodreads

Translations:

  • Italian: Le terre degli incantesimi (1979)
Humour, Music

The Hearse Song: A song for soldiers (1800’s ?)

1 Comment

Don’t you ever laugh as the hearse goes by,
For you may be the next to die.
They wrap you up in a big white sheet
From your head down to your feet.
They put you in a big black box
And cover you up with dirt and rocks.
And all goes well for about a week,
Until your coffin begins to leak.

And the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
The worms play pinochle on your scalp,
They eat your eyes, they eat your nose,
They eat the jelly between your toes.

A big green worm with rolling eyes
Crawls in your stomach and out your sides.
Your stomach turns a slimy green,
And pus comes out like whipping cream.
You spread it on a slice of bread,
And that’s what you eat when you are dead.

And the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
They crawl all over your dirty snout.
Your chest caves in, your eyes pop out,
And your brain turns to sauerkraut.

They invite their friends and their friends too,
They all come down to chew on you.

And this is what it is to die,
I hope you had a nice goodbye.
Did you ever think as a hearse goes by,
That you may be the next to die?
And your eyes fall out, and your teeth decay,
And that is the end of a perfect day.

Wikipedia | Cemetery Culture

Fantasy, Science Fiction, Young Adult

Miéville, China: Railsea (2012)

4 Comments
Source: torbooks.co.uk
Artist: Vladimir Verano at flickr.com
Artist: Leighton Johns at http://leightonjohns.blogspot.no
Artist: Vincent Chong at vincentchongart.wordpress.com
Artist: Vincent Chong Source: model-railroad-hobbyist.com
Bulgarian edition | Source: booklikes.com
Artist: Les Edwards at lesedwards.com
Czech edition | Source: knihy.heureka.cz
Artist: Robin Latkovitch at robinlatkovitch.com
German edition
Source: amazon.com
Source: npr.org
Artist: Leighton Johns at http://leightonjohns.blogspot.no
Artist: Vincent Chong at vincentchongart.files.wordpress.com

“Well, no one knows,” Caldera said, “but they’ve got a sense of the possibilities. What do they say where you come from? Streggeye, you said? What do you think? Were the rails put down by gods?” Her questions came faster. Were they extruded from the ground? Were they writing in heavenly script, that people unknowingly recited as they travelled? Were the rails produced by as-yet-not-understood natural processes? Some radicals said there were no gods at all. Were the rails spit up by the interactions of rock, heat, cold, pressure & dirt? Did humans, big-brained monkeys, think up ways to use them when the rails emerged, to stay safe from the deadly dirt? Was that how trains got thought up? Was the world an infinity of rails down as well as around, seams of them through layers of earth & salvage, down to the core? Down to hell? Sometimes storms gusted off topsoil & uncovered iron below. The most excavation-gung-ho salvors claimed to have found some tracks yards underground. What about Heaven? What was in Heaven? Where was it? (Railsea, p. 181)

Certain subjects will probably interest me until I die. The lengths to which we go to justify our beliefs and avoid being wrong is one of them. We cling so hard to our philosophies that we end up with mechanised arms, like Captain Naphi, or send our navys out to get hold of two children, the way Maniniki did.

Realizing that my childhood faith was not based on facts, had an immense effect on my ability to handle the thought of being wrong. Debating an issue is now merely fun. No longer do I see other people’s beliefs as something to be feared. Some of the lies I told myself are no longer necessary.

Lying to ourselves, even if we are not aware of lying, holds us firmly in our socially accepted places. Sham Yes ap Shoorap is a brave kid. He often needs to be prompted; but by asking himself difficult questions, he manages to defy conventions and seeks answers. Answers are sometimes only found in dangerous waters, and the metaphoric waters of the railsea are indeed dangerous. The Railsea seethes with life wanting to devour anything and anyone in their paths. One has the choice between being eaten by giant burrowing owls, giant moldywarpes, giant earwigs, giant naked mole rats, giant turtles, blood rabbits, tundra worms and so on. Being on the moletrain was one thing. Going from that to his handcart was quite another.

The Railsea‘s culture is post-apocalyptic. A huge war between rail-barons and other big corporations has caused environmental damage that has lasted long enough for cute creatures to mutate into threats for humans. The heavens are only seen as a smog cover containing angels. Yes, angels. And quite scary ones, too. Scientific knowledge has more or less died along with anything resembling healthy ecology for humans. Yet people keep on messing up the ground even more, especially when greed prompts justification. Greed is a fairly common motivator for destroying our habitat in today’s world. I suppose it always has been. I admit that my own attempts at being an environmentally responsible person are inconsistent, yet I keep on trying. George Carlin has a fitting commentary on the effect humans have on the Earth. Railsea seems a fitting vision of it getting revenge.

While Railsea is indeed a young adult story, it is also very much an adult story.

Definitely recommended.

Reviews:

Railsea can be found at Amazon

Translations:

Adventure, Fantasy, Young Adult

Abbey, Lynn: Rifkind’s Challenge (2006)

1 Comment
Rifkind's Challenge - Lynn Abbey
Cover art by Julie Bell

Stories about strong female characters have always been important to me. In my younger days these stories were difficult to find. Usually the women depended on a man to be heroic and choices we laud in women were not acceptable in the so-called “weaker sex”. Female authors have been just as guilty as male authors in perpetrating this stereotype. But some authors dared break through unwritten rules and wrote about women who might still struggle to be accepted by readers. Rifkind is one such woman. Her author is Lynn Abbey.

Rifkind’s Challenge is about adventure taking place in a medieval type of society. There are necromancers, possessions, zombies, strange power and sword fighting. Rifkind is tiny and usually underestimated by her much larger opponents. The smart ones quickly learn no to. Other opponents cannot deal with a woman defeating them. Often they end up with their entrails hanging out due to that stupidity.

Rifkind’s Challenge is about difficult choices we make in life. Rifkind leaves the Ashereen because of her dreams. As eldest son to Chief Hamarach, Tyrokon is supposed to take over; but with his handicap, he would just be putting his clan into danger. Chief Hamarach asks Rifkind to go with Tyrokon part of the way. Cho considers himself Tyrokon’s second and goes along. He happens to be Rifkind’s son. Tyrokon ends up being a mediator between Cho and Rifkind. Their family skills are complicated by Rifkind’s fame, youthful appearance and abilities.

“Where does she come off fighting like that? She is a healer … a healer! Isn’t that enough? Does she have to have men’s honors, too? Who does she think she is?”

I have not read the previous two installments in this series, but Rifkind’s Challenge works well as a stand-alone novel and is a great sword and sourcery adventure.

Recommended.

Reviews:

Rifkind’s Challenge available at Scribd.com

Fantasy, Mystery, Thriller

Meaney, John: Bone Song (2007)

2 Comments
http://covers.booktopia.com.au/big/9780575079540/bone-song.jpg
http://www.topzine.cz/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/john-meaney-pisen-kosti.jpg
http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51bOBJaPKSL.jpg
http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51VzyK-pXkL.jpg

My introduction to John Meaney came through the Nulapeiron series with the book Paradox. I was blown away by the quality of the writing. Then I placed the novel on my shelf and sort of forgot about it (I read a lot). Through my library Bone Song came to my attention. Talk about pleasant reunion with an author. This reminder led to the purchase of the remainder of the Nulapeiron Sequence and the later continuation of Tristopolis with Dark Blood.

John Meaney writes a mean book, a novel that draws me into its lair waiting to be consumed by it. And I was. Bone Song was incredibly difficult to put down. Meaney’s description of Tristopolis is beguiling and dark. Atmosphere and personalities light up like a beacon in my mind.

Considering the title of my blog Bone Song is the perfect first novel to review. In it we find the darker side of humanity described in a manner that shows us the lure of power – power-hunger – power-addiction and the concept that some people are more equal than others.

Bone Song is the first book in the Tristopolis series. Tristopolis is the city of Lieutenant Donal Riordan, the good guy in this plot. It is also a city where the dead are sent to give energy to the generators that keep the city running. Zombies, wraiths and gargoyles are only some the races inhabiting this world along with humans, and Donal manages to interact and make friends with them all.

Bone Song is supposedly a horror book but I’m not sure I agree with that assessment. It’s certainly a dark enough world, but it seems bleak rather than horrifying and creepy.

Donal has been assigned to protect an exceptional opera singer who the authorities suspect is on the hit-list of a mysterious serial killer. The job does not go well. Donal gets drawn into a world of deception and betrayal, a world where he has to find someone hidden by powerful connections.

There is murder and mayhem, but Donal shines like a beacon in this book. He’ll kill and maim if he has to, but he’d prefer it if he didn’t. His opponents (mysterious as they are) are quite different. “The end justifies the means” seems to be their motto. This does seem to be the motto of power-addicted people.

Reviews:

Bone Song available on Amazon US

Fantasy

Thater, Glenn G.: The Gateway (Harbinger of Doom 0.5) (2008)

Quote Leave a comment

“Talbon!” said Lord Eotrus. “Dispel the mist. Now!”

At his liege’s command, the sorcerer uttered forgotten words of eldritch power; secret words lost to all but the chosen few. The ancient sorcery he called up crushed the unnatural mist back against the night, though the darkness lingered beyond the limits of the soldiers’ torchlight.

“For glory and honor,” shouted Lord Eotrus. “For Odin! For Lomion!”

“For Lomion,” shouted the men.

Glenn G. Thater

Fantasy, Mystery, Western, Young Adult

Lackey, Mercedes & Edghill, Rosemary: Dead Reckoning (2012)

1 Comment
Artist: Regina Hoff
Artist: Regina Roff

I have been looking for an updated website for Rosemary Edghill. This link is old (2013). I haven’t found one anywhere else, but she is still alive. She and Mercedes Lackey wrote Dead Reckoning together.

The setting of Dead Reckoning is the Wild West a couple of years after the Civil War. Two of our characters are from either side of the issue while the third is indirectly an American Indian. Jett’s story set me looking for how likely it was that a woman would cross-dress around the time of the Civil War. Well, it happened and not that seldom either. There really wasn’t much choice for any of them. Not for Jett either. If she/he wanted to go off and try to find her brother she would have trouble doing so as a woman. It simply was not accepted. But all of her female habits had to be set aside and Jett had to learn how to walk, talk and adapt the mannerisms of the men of her time to be left alone. She also had to shoot really well, because sometimes seeming like a post-adolescent boy brought many of the same challenges women had. Gunslingers were the shooters who were quick draws and fast shooters.

Honoria had the advantage of an unconventional childhood with an eccentric father. Perhaps eccentric isn’t the correct word. Her father was a genius whose ideas kept interrupting his life and drawing him into new mind-zones. With a daughter just as bright, that may have been a good thing. Honoria was given the freedom to study what she wanted and that enabled her to do what other unusual women of her time also did, invent. I found myself rather liking her insistence upon science over all. Sometimes I wanted to tell her to get over herself, but she was consistent with her character all the way through.

In fact, that can be said of all three characters. Jett remained the male she wanted to be taken for. The last of the three compatriots, White Fox, was consistent with the civilian scout and Algonquin adoptee he was supposed to be. White Fox was on a mission for the 10th Cavalry to find out what had happened to his Captain’s mother at Glory Rest. What he discovered was that the town was completely deserted. There had, in fact, been several incidents of people disappearing or groups of people being slaughtered by unknown parties. The disappearing people fit with the allegations Honoria was investigating.

Their encounters with zombies and cultists are fun and full of action.

Recommended.

Reviews:

Dead Reckoning available at


Ebook available for kindle US, kindle UK & nook

1993: Women in the Civil War
2000: Women Inventors By: Ping Chen W S 301
Way of Life – Algonquian Indians

Meskwaki-Sauk language
Meshkwahkihaki/Sauk history
10th Cavalry Regiment

Fantasy, Science Fiction, Young Adult

Ee, Susan: End of Days (Penryn and the End of Days III) (2015)

Quote 1 Comment

… “Hey, you! Dinnertime! I’m over here, you scabby rats! Come and get me!”

The Hyundai is rocking with hellions as they pile on. I’m about to screech out of the lot – or at least make donuts until all the hellions head my way and leave the rest of the people alone – when I feel a thump. The car drops on one side. Then I see the shredded rubber of a tire being flung over the hood.

That was the front tire.

I stare dumbly at the ripped-up tire as it flops and wobbles to a standstill in the parking lot.

Then so many hellions pile onto my car that I can’t see the tire anymore.

I stroke the fur of my teddy bear. It’s all I can think to do.

Pooky Bear can’t help me in a vehicle. Not a lot of room to slice and dice.

That means I need to exit the car if I want a chance at getting out of this.

I sit in the car.

I wonder how long a person can stay in a vehicle.

But then, of course, the hellions begin pounding on the windshield. (p. 105)

Susan Ee, End of Days

Humour, Romance, Short story/novella

Bunn, Christopher: The Girl Next Door (2012)

Quote Leave a comment

“What do you do?” she asked.

“Well, it’s funny that you should ask. I do a little proofreading, sort of a family thing. My father did it before me, so I decided to carry on the tradition. Editing. Marking up manuscripts with red pen. Hence all the books.”

“I just had a marvelous thought. You can proofread my book.”

“Hang on,” he said, startled, “I wouldn’t want to presume on your acquaintance.”

“Don’t think of it,” she said. “I’m not at all offended by your asking.”

“Not at all offended …?” stuttered Peter.

Christopher Bunn

Thriller

Vincent, Steve P.: The Foundation (Jack Emery I) (2015)

Leave a comment

The Foundation by Steve P Vincent

When he was finished, he ejected the USB and all signs of the message board vanished from the screen. Chen left the internet café as anonymously as he’d entered, satisfied that everything was in place for the attack. He had no expectation that he’d bring down the Chinese Government, though he did believe that a heavy enough blow could cause a fracture in the monolith. He felt a small degree of guilt for the innocents who’d die, but their lives were the price of vengeance.

One of Norway’s better known war journalists is Åsne Seierstad. Her work has taken her around the world to high-adrenaline and gruesome situations filled with death and dying (and probably long periods of boredom). Jack Emery is one of the huge clan of war journalists and has been to Afghanistan. Right now he has been back a while and wants a new assignment. His boss does not trust him with important work due to a drinking problem Jack developed upon his return. During the course of the story what seemed important enough to send him chasing bottles ends up filling him with regret and self-derision. Not derision for drinking himself to bits but derision for insisting on interpreting the world one way.

Death seems to focus our minds on what each of us considers vital to existence. In Jack’s case that turned him back to the hunt for truth. In a manner of speaking, Jack is our detective and the story is a large-scale whodunit. I suppose all thrillers are that at their base. Mr. Vincent has skillfully added corporations and governments to the whodunit stew and come up with an extremely entertaining story about the shenanigans of countries and corporations.

In my experience, all thrillers that make their characters believable also create a story that becomes probable. Chen provides us with the spark that sets off tension between the United States and China. He is by no means alone in setting the scene for what the countries call a terrorist act. What countries get away with doing (“aggressive military posturing”) independent people/corporations must be punished for. Politics seldom make sense. When it comes to large-scale murder they make even less sense.

As Jack and his fellow journalists poke their heads further and further into the wasp’s nest, their lives become less secure. We all know that is because the perpetrators fear discovery. In this case there are several instigators behind the scenes and none of them want to be found out.

There is plenty of violence (somewhat explicit), loads of action and some sex (not explicit).

Before reading The Foundation (TF), I read Fireplay (see quote). Fireplay is written after TF, but its plot happens before the plot of TF. TF is written in Australian English. Any language oddities you find therein will probably be due to that.

Definitely recommended.

The Foundation was recommended to me by Nathan Farrugia (The Fifth Column)

Reviews:

The Foundation may be found on Goodreads

Humour, Poetry

Baxter, Joanne Bailey: When I’m an old lady (1991)

2 Comments

Old lady tagger

When I’m an old lady

When I’m an old lady, I’ll live with my kids,
And make their life happy and filled with such fun.
I want to pay back all the joy they’ve provided.
Returning each deed! Oh, they’ll be so excited!

When I’m an old lady and live with my kids

I’ll write on the wall with reds, whites and blues,
And I’ll bounce on the furniture wearing my shoes.
I’ll drink from the carton and then leave it out.
I’ll stuff all the toilets and oh, how they’ll shout!

When I’m an old lady and live with my kids

When they’re on the phone and just out of reach,
I’ll get into things like sugar and bleach.
Oh, they’ll snap their fingers and then shake their head,
and when that is done I’ll hide under the bed.

When I’m an old lady and live with my kids

When they cook dinner and call me to meals,
I’ll not eat my green beans or salads congealed.
I’ll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,
And when they get angry, I’ll run as fast as I’m able!

When I’m an old lady and live with my kids

I’ll sit close to the TV, through the channels I’ll click,
I’ll cross both eyes just to see if they stick.
I’ll take off my socks and throw one away,
And play in the mud ’til the end of the day!

When I’m an old lady and live with my kids

And later in bed, I’ll lay back and sigh,
I’ll thank God in prayer and then close my eyes.
My kids will look down with a smile slowly creeping,
And say with a groan, “She’s so sweet when she’s sleeping!”

God Bless All Moms and Grandmas Everywhere!

© 1991 Joanne Bailey Baxter https://suitableformixedcompany.blogspot.ro/2005/04/when-im-old-lady-and-live-with-my-kids.html

This copyright has been disputed in below comment. ©2002 May Baker Winkel https://grammie.andrewlives.com/

Animals, Science Fiction, Short story/novella

McGuire, Seanan: Midway Relics and Dying Breeds (2014)

Quote Leave a comment

“Thing was, the westward portage rope was attached to Billie’s harness, and Billie, for all her advantages as a draft animal, is about as smart as damp moss when it comes to things like “noticing external stimuli.” She’s a genework Indricothere (link by ed) that my Uncle Ren and I bought from a fly-by firm about six years back—a sort of precursor to the rhinoceros, and one of the largest land mammals ever to walk on the planet. When she put down her foot, the ground shook. There were no predators that could take her down and no threats that she recognized as worth giving a damn about, all of which combined to mean that there wasn’t much that could distract her from the essential task of eating her way through the foliage of the world. All nine tons of her continued plodding relentlessly forward, her massive teeth stripping branches as she walked. Her grazing license typed her as a firebreak, preventing fires by clearing out all the dead stuff before it could go up. It was more than halfway true, and it hadn’t caught us any trouble yet.”

Seanan McGuire

Midway Relics and Dying Breeds

Mystery, Romance

Lyon, J.J.: Truth is Relative (A Truth Inducer Mystery) (2014)

Leave a comment
Artist: Caitlin Willey
Artist: Caitlin Willey

The Monday before Thanksgiving, my car disappeared. Or it might have been late Sunday night. The day was half over before I even looked outside. Instead I focused on an ugly painting until I realized I was hungry. I was out of bread and low on groceries in general. I cleaned my brushes, grabbed my keys, opened the front door, and stared at gray asphalt where my Mazda used to be. A few dead cottonwood leaves swirled there before the wind swept them off.

I didn’t bother calling the police. My car hadn’t been stolen, it had been repossessed.

Anthony has had a rough time during the year after his gift/curse emerged. All it takes is thirty seconds within a ten-foot circumference of him and people cannot help telling him their secrets. Just going to the store is a challenge. And the things he hears. “My wife left me this morning.”, “And then their dad comes home and he needs dinner and he wants sex.”, “I knew it was you and I don’t want to talk to you, but it looked bad.” and “So how did a totally hot man get a gift like that?“. Some of the secrets are much worse than this, and they are part of the trouble Anthony is in and is going to land himself in.

I liked the way J.J. Lyon looked at Anthony’s talent. One of my talents is having no filter on what I hear. Concentrating on my conversation while others are going on around me is extraordinarily difficult. I usually end up commenting on other conversations, or my companions tell me to stop listening in. Sadly, there isn’t an off-button on my talent. That can make talking to me annoying. I just upped my difficulty to the nth degree and probably arrived at Tony’s challenges. So, I truly get why he has made himself a hermit, does not want to visit his family and avoids any close contact with other people if he is able to. However, doing so has gotten him as close to bankrupt as a person could get.

He needs to come up with some way of getting hold of money and using his gift for other things than hitting on girls. His older brother Bart comes up with what he considers a really smart scheme. Why doesn’t Anthony become a PI? Yes, a PI. At first Tony is reluctant. But once he realizes what is really going on, his’s involvement becomes truer.

Recommended.

Reviews:

Truth is Relative is available at Amazon

Use public libraries