A momentous, readable collection, its sole downside being that there are only 20 superhero stories.
Reeks (Love Hurts, 2015, etc.) and debut editor Richardson assemble a series of tales centered on superheroes’ constant struggles with saving the world and maintaining secret identities.
In Cat Rambo’s opening “Ms. Liberty Gets a Haircut,” the titular character’s all-female band of superheroes adds new members and debates a group name. But everyone has issues with self-identity, from cybernetic Ms. Liberty to shapeless, human-created X. The stories in this book wisely eschew parody, opting instead for characters with special abilities counterbalanced by all-too familiar obstacles. Superhero Alice’s incognito trip to the supermarket, for one, in Seanan McGuire’s “Pedestal,” is ruined by a nosy blogger. Likewise, Mary of Carrie Vaughn’s delightful “Origin Story” spots her high school crush at the bank, only now it seems he’s supervillain Techhunter, in the process of a robbery. Narration and dialogue in the tales follow suit: characters often experience something fascinating that may, rather amusingly, have become routine. Mary, for example, notes Techhunter entering the bank with “a swarm of hovering metallic balls zooming down the hole in the ceiling with him,” adding a somewhat indifferent observation: “They probably shot lasers or tranquilizer darts.” Some of the characters are born into superhero families: Oliver’s fiery ability may be courtesy of his estranged father in Michael Milne’s “Inheritance,” while rumors that rock musician Atlas’ dad was an alien could be true in Nathan Crowder’s “Madjack.” It’s nevertheless possible that superpowers are not a necessity, as in the other “Origin Story,” by Kelly Link; even if Bunnatine’s mom is just a waitress, her daughter may see her as a superhero. Sympathetic supervillains crop up as well: in Keith Frady’s “Fool,” Dr. Entropy isn’t quite ready to go through with his plan to eradicate all life. The tales cater to traditions of comic-book champions, including cities known for frequent superhero appearances (Vaughn’s Commerce City or Crowder’s Cobalt City). But there’s always a twist on the conventional, not so much satire as it is, like any superb comic-book story, an opportunity to dig deeper into characters’ lives. For example, Aimee Ogden (“As I Fall Asleep”) drops readers into recognizable action, with superhero Cerebrelle squaring off against a villain. Cerebrelle’s hazy recollections, however, ultimately lead to a more intimate and rewarding approach—indicative of this vital anthology as a whole.
A momentous, readable collection, its sole downside being that there are only 20 superhero stories.Pub Date: N/A
ISBN: N/A
Page Count: -
Publisher: Meerkat Media
Review Posted Online: March 24, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2017
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
Characters flip between bottomless self-regard and pitiless self-loathing while, as late as the second-to-last chapter, yet...
Four Chicago sisters anchor a sharp, sly family story of feminine guile and guilt.
Newcomer Lombardo brews all seven deadly sins into a fun and brimming tale of an unapologetically bougie couple and their unruly daughters. In the opening scene, Liza Sorenson, daughter No. 3, flirts with a groomsman at her sister’s wedding. “There’s four of you?” he asked. “What’s that like?” Her retort: “It’s a vast hormonal hellscape. A marathon of instability and hair products.” Thus begins a story bristling with a particular kind of female intel. When Wendy, the oldest, sets her sights on a mate, she “made sure she left her mark throughout his house—soy milk in the fridge, box of tampons under the sink, surreptitious spritzes of her Bulgari musk on the sheets.” Turbulent Wendy is the novel’s best character, exuding a delectable bratty-ness. The parents—Marilyn, all pluck and busy optimism, and David, a genial family doctor—strike their offspring as impossibly happy. Lombardo levels this vision by interspersing chapters of the Sorenson parents’ early lean times with chapters about their daughters’ wobbly forays into adulthood. The central story unfurls over a single event-choked year, begun by Wendy, who unlatches a closed adoption and springs on her family the boy her stuffy married sister, Violet, gave away 15 years earlier. (The sisters improbably kept David and Marilyn clueless with a phony study-abroad scheme.) Into this churn, Lombardo adds cancer, infidelity, a heart attack, another unplanned pregnancy, a stillbirth, and an office crush for David. Meanwhile, youngest daughter Grace perpetrates a whopper, and “every day the lie was growing like mold, furring her judgment.” The writing here is silky, if occasionally overwrought. Still, the deft touches—a neighborhood fundraiser for a Little Free Library, a Twilight character as erotic touchstone—delight. The class calibrations are divine even as the utter apolitical whiteness of the Sorenson world becomes hard to fathom.
Characters flip between bottomless self-regard and pitiless self-loathing while, as late as the second-to-last chapter, yet another pleasurable tendril of sisterly malice uncurls.Pub Date: June 25, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-385-54425-2
Page Count: 544
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: March 3, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 2019
SEEN & HEARD
Dark and unsettling, this novel’s end arrives abruptly even as readers are still moving at a breakneck speed.
Ten years after her teenage daughter went missing, a mother begins a new relationship only to discover she can't truly move on until she answers lingering questions about the past.
Laurel Mack’s life stopped in many ways the day her 15-year-old daughter, Ellie, left the house to study at the library and never returned. She drifted away from her other two children, Hanna and Jake, and eventually she and her husband, Paul, divorced. Ten years later, Ellie’s remains and her backpack are found, though the police are unable to determine the reasons for her disappearance and death. After Ellie’s funeral, Laurel begins a relationship with Floyd, a man she meets in a cafe. She's disarmed by Floyd’s charm, but when she meets his young daughter, Poppy, Laurel is startled by her resemblance to Ellie. As the novel progresses, Laurel becomes increasingly determined to learn what happened to Ellie, especially after discovering an odd connection between Poppy’s mother and her daughter even as her relationship with Floyd is becoming more serious. Jewell’s (I Found You, 2017, etc.) latest thriller moves at a brisk pace even as she plays with narrative structure: The book is split into three sections, including a first one which alternates chapters between the time of Ellie’s disappearance and the present and a second section that begins as Laurel and Floyd meet. Both of these sections primarily focus on Laurel. In the third section, Jewell alternates narrators and moments in time: The narrator switches to alternating first-person points of view (told by Poppy’s mother and Floyd) interspersed with third-person narration of Ellie’s experiences and Laurel’s discoveries in the present. All of these devices serve to build palpable tension, but the structure also contributes to how deeply disturbing the story becomes. At times, the characters and the emotional core of the events are almost obscured by such quick maneuvering through the weighty plot.
Dark and unsettling, this novel’s end arrives abruptly even as readers are still moving at a breakneck speed.Pub Date: April 24, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-5011-5464-5
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Atria
Review Posted Online: Feb. 5, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2018
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