A fantasy that saddles endearing characters with humdrum domesticity.
A sequel further explores the romantic bond between a human and a dragon.
In the realm of Gilifland, the swordsman Akron travels with his dragon master, Emerald, through driving, frigid rain. Emerald is a lovely humanoid dragon, and an entire clan of dragon folks large and small moves with the duo. Mercifully, the band locates a magical cottage set up by pixies, with vast stores of clothing, food, and weaponry. At the cottage, Akron regroups around his infant dragon son, Alexander, and plans countermaneuvers against King James, a power-hungry ruler with his sights set on the surrounding kingdoms. Under the cozy environs, a young, single dragon named Alaw tries to devote herself to Akron. Emerald is shaken by this challenge and finally tells Akron, “I’m in love with you.” Their bond strengthened, the couple fly—courtesy of the gigantic Adelhied—deeper into Gilifland and encounter Sir Akir and Sir Balloch of the Black Company. The knights escort Akron and Emerald to the court of the Queens Antonia and Grace. There, Emerald’s long-held secret is revealed, and Akron learns the truth about his lineage. Together, the two just might teach the world that love transcends any barrier between species. Continuing his atypical fantasy saga, Gordon (Emerald, 2015) brings numerous genre trappings to what is at heart a series of domestic vignettes. The narrative elements—like a grasping king, magic, and imperial spies—imply adventure. Yet the bulk of the story describes clan relations, including Akron’s parents, Iona and Ailill, and social progress, as when the swordsman teaches Emerald to write her own name. While this seems geared toward YA audiences, Gordon emphasizes sex a lot, as in Akron’s line: “I have wanted to feel your scales press on my” naked body. “It’s finer than any leather.” Casual swearing coarsens the piece further. Adults will laud the author’s focus on child abandonment but may grow frustrated by his tendency to fill the plot with extended fireside chats within the main arc. Like its predecessor, this tale has the engine of an epic but is content to putt along.
A fantasy that saddles endearing characters with humdrum domesticity.Pub Date: June 26, 2017
ISBN: 978-1-5434-0042-7
Page Count: 490
Publisher: XlibrisAU
Review Posted Online: Oct. 16, 2017
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.
Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z(2006).
A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.Pub Date: June 16, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.
Atwood goes back to Gilead.
The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), consistently regarded as a masterpiece of 20th-century literature, has gained new attention in recent years with the success of the Hulu series as well as fresh appreciation from readers who feel like this story has new relevance in America’s current political climate. Atwood herself has spoken about how news headlines have made her dystopian fiction seem eerily plausible, and it’s not difficult to imagine her wanting to revisit Gilead as the TV show has sped past where her narrative ended. Like the novel that preceded it, this sequel is presented as found documents—first-person accounts of life inside a misogynistic theocracy from three informants. There is Agnes Jemima, a girl who rejects the marriage her family arranges for her but still has faith in God and Gilead. There’s Daisy, who learns on her 16th birthday that her whole life has been a lie. And there's Aunt Lydia, the woman responsible for turning women into Handmaids. This approach gives readers insight into different aspects of life inside and outside Gilead, but it also leads to a book that sometimes feels overstuffed. The Handmaid’s Tale combined exquisite lyricism with a powerful sense of urgency, as if a thoughtful, perceptive woman was racing against time to give witness to her experience. That narrator hinted at more than she said; Atwood seemed to trust readers to fill in the gaps. This dynamic created an atmosphere of intimacy. However curious we might be about Gilead and the resistance operating outside that country, what we learn here is that what Atwood left unsaid in the first novel generated more horror and outrage than explicit detail can. And the more we get to know Agnes, Daisy, and Aunt Lydia, the less convincing they become. It’s hard, of course, to compete with a beloved classic, so maybe the best way to read this new book is to forget about The Handmaid’s Tale and enjoy it as an artful feminist thriller.
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.Pub Date: Sept. 10, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-385-54378-1
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Nan A. Talese
Review Posted Online: Sept. 3, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2019
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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