While a bit obvious, this rousing animal tale delivers an important political message.



A scathing critique of class, politics, and greed presents a fantasy world comprised of pigs.

War rages between the pigs of Mudwallow and Hamcorner, as the elite among the Wallowites, known as snouters, seek to expand their power and fortunes through military means. As the snouters’ mercenary soldiers, the boars, and the Holy Pomponer, the head of the Wallowites’ faith, hoard food and wealth during this time, it is the weary, working-class trotters who go without. While the fight bogs down due to self-serving double-crosses and incompetent leaders, a trotter named Hunkle finds himself in the role of an unlikely revolutionary. His cousin Crumpet has produced a series of writings on pigolitics and pigolosophy that demand equality and a rejection of snouter rule. Along with the vengeful rebel Snooper and Hunkle’s son, Whiskers, Crumpet establishes the snotters, a group that rejects the strict class structure and the worship of the Pomponer’s “Great One,” a deity that supposedly blesses pigkind from the Black Mountain volcano. Unrest grows, and the snotters are able to gain advantages over the ruling upper classes through utilizing the prized badapple, a tree with explosive properties and technological possibilities, as well by taking advantage of the lies of the religious caste, which is hiding that the Great One is no god. Molloy (Ceasefire! The Ivan Molloy Story, 2018, etc.) crafts a mini-epic in the style of Game of Thrones and The Lord of the Rings that’s filled with scheming bad guys and harrowing battles. The blood, mud, and tragedy of the clashes are portrayed in a particularly visceral and heartbreaking fashion despite the swine participants. The parallels between Pigworld and real-world politics are numerous and enlightening but sometimes a little on the nose—the suicide-bombing “Baconers” who worship a god separate from the Great One scream Islamic terrorist stand-ins while Crumpet’s snotter philosophy mirrors Marx and Engels. The novel is full of maps, blueprints, and the author’s illustrations of pigs of importance, presented as if drawn by the book’s characters. Along with the endnotes, this material elevates the story’s already impressive worldbuilding.

While a bit obvious, this rousing animal tale delivers an important political message.

Pub Date: June 29, 2019

ISBN: 978-1-79600-148-8

Page Count: 546

Publisher: XlibrisAU

Review Posted Online: Jan. 12, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2020

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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. 10, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020

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A breezy and fun contemporary fantasy.


A tightly wound caseworker is pushed out of his comfort zone when he’s sent to observe a remote orphanage for magical children.

Linus Baker loves rules, which makes him perfectly suited for his job as a midlevel bureaucrat working for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth, where he investigates orphanages for children who can do things like make objects float, who have tails or feathers, and even those who are young witches. Linus clings to the notion that his job is about saving children from cruel or dangerous homes, but really he’s a cog in a government machine that treats magical children as second-class citizens. When Extremely Upper Management sends for Linus, he learns that his next assignment is a mission to an island orphanage for especially dangerous kids. He is to stay on the island for a month and write reports for Extremely Upper Management, which warns him to be especially meticulous in his observations. When he reaches the island, he meets extraordinary kids like Talia the gnome, Theodore the wyvern, and Chauncey, an amorphous blob whose parentage is unknown. The proprietor of the orphanage is a strange but charming man named Arthur, who makes it clear to Linus that he will do anything in his power to give his charges a loving home on the island. As Linus spends more time with Arthur and the kids, he starts to question a world that would shun them for being different, and he even develops romantic feelings for Arthur. Lambda Literary Award–winning author Klune (The Art of Breathing, 2019, etc.) has a knack for creating endearing characters, and readers will grow to love Arthur and the orphans alongside Linus. Linus himself is a lovable protagonist despite his prickliness, and Klune aptly handles his evolving feelings and morals. The prose is a touch wooden in places, but fans of quirky fantasy will eat it up.

A breezy and fun contemporary fantasy.

Pub Date: March 17, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-250-21728-8

Page Count: 352

Publisher: Tor

Review Posted Online: Nov. 11, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2019

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