Although changing venue from deep forest to the coast breathes a certain amount of fresh life into the series, this is now...
This follow-up to the Queens of Renthia fantasy trilogy (The Queen of Sorrow, 2018, etc.) shifts to the island nation of Belene, where the vicious nature spirits are mainly aquatic but the human predators seem much the same.
Oyster diver Mayara is forced to reveal her power over the spirits on the day of her wedding to her beloved childhood friend Kelo when a violent spirit storm overwhelms her fishing village. That brings her to the attention of the queen, her heirs, and the queen’s magically gifted guard, the Silent Ones. Now, Mayara has a choice: give up her family and her voice by joining the Silent Ones, or compete to become one of the queen’s heirs by surviving 30 days on the deadly island of Akena, swarming with bloodthirsty nature spirits. Believing Kelo to be dead, Mayara makes the more dangerous choice of the island, where she befriends Roe, another potential heir, and learns that the spirits aren’t the only peril on Akena. Meanwhile, Queen Asana has her own troubles. Although she possesses great magical power, enough to keep the leviathans of the ocean depths asleep, she lacks the political power to rule the people of Belene; that lies in the hands of the powerful noble families who hold her parents and daughter hostage. Can the current system be overthrown, or are there some traditions it’s too hazardous to lose? It's delightful to re-encounter the sociopath Garnah, the brutally honest alchemist and poisoner who is also the mother-in-law of Queen Daleina of Aratay. Now serving as Queen Asana’s adviser, she is the only character to carry over from the previous books, but unfortunately, the basic plot from the previous books carried over, too.
Although changing venue from deep forest to the coast breathes a certain amount of fresh life into the series, this is now the fourth book involving a battle for rule and a race to the coronation grove; it would be nice if future books explored other conflicts and possibilities in Renthia.Pub Date: March 19, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-06-269084-5
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Harper Voyager
Review Posted Online: Jan. 20, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2019
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
One small step, no giant leaps.
Weir (The Martian, 2014) returns with another off-world tale, this time set on a lunar colony several decades in the future.
Jasmine “Jazz” Bashara is a 20-something deliveryperson, or “porter,” whose welder father brought her up on Artemis, a small multidomed city on Earth’s moon. She has dreams of becoming a member of the Extravehicular Activity Guild so she’ll be able to get better work, such as leading tours on the moon’s surface, and pay off a substantial personal debt. For now, though, she has a thriving side business procuring low-end black-market items to people in the colony. One of her best customers is Trond Landvik, a wealthy businessman who, one day, offers her a lucrative deal to sabotage some of Sanchez Aluminum’s automated lunar-mining equipment. Jazz agrees and comes up with a complicated scheme that involves an extended outing on the lunar surface. Things don’t go as planned, though, and afterward, she finds Landvik murdered. Soon, Jazz is in the middle of a conspiracy involving a Brazilian crime syndicate and revolutionary technology. Only by teaming up with friends and family, including electronics scientist Martin Svoboda, EVA expert Dale Shapiro, and her father, will she be able to finish the job she started. Readers expecting The Martian’s smart math-and-science problem-solving will only find a smattering here, as when Jazz figures out how to ignite an acetylene torch during a moonwalk. Strip away the sci-fi trappings, though, and this is a by-the-numbers caper novel with predictable beats and little suspense. The worldbuilding is mostly bland and unimaginative (Artemis apartments are cramped; everyone uses smartphonelike “Gizmos”), although intriguing elements—such as the fact that space travel is controlled by Kenya instead of the United States or Russia—do show up occasionally. In the acknowledgements, Weir thanks six women, including his publisher and U.K. editor, “for helping me tackle the challenge of writing a female narrator”—as if women were an alien species. Even so, Jazz is given such forced lines as “I giggled like a little girl. Hey, I’m a girl, so I’m allowed.”
One small step, no giant leaps.Pub Date: Nov. 14, 2017
ISBN: 978-0-553-44812-2
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Crown
Review Posted Online: July 16, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2017
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