nicanical
Sophomoric prose: too much hedging and qualifying, e.g., "sort ofs" and "kind ofs"; similes made awkward by wrenched comparisons and excessive length; sloppy continuity and logic, e.g., the protagonist, Dresden, returns home after being out all day to pick up "fresh-baked bread" for a spell—if you've been away all day, how fresh could it be?
Jim Butcher overexplains Dresden's thoughts even where obvious: if a character clenches their fists and grits their teeth, you don't need to then say they are frustrated. Also, while some sexual objectification is to be expected given Storm Front's noir and hardboiled influences, Butcher writes these parts like a lecherous teenager. Dresden comes off like a leering pervert, less Bogey to Bacall.
The magic system suffers from its own inconsistencies. It is less a system and more an ass-pull. For example, magic users disrupt nearby machinery:
"It has something to do with being a wizard, with working with magical forces. The more delicate and modern the machine is, the more likely it is that something will go wrong if I get close enough to it."
Stereos, telephones, and elevators are affected yet Dresden can use cars without issue? His personal Volkswagen Beetle does break down in one scene. But that's due to the Beetle's age more than anything else because he rides cabs and drives a TransAm elsewhere without issue. (It's not a matter of chemical combustion versus electronics either because guns are also disrupted).
Another example: magic circles used for summoning or protection are easily broken by penetrating them. Near the end, a plastic canister pierces a field cast by such a circle, disabling it. However, earlier in the book, a plastic bottle thrown and caught from inside a similar circle does not disable it. Why?!
The pacing—to the extent I can discern it separately from prose—is good, with balanced beats of action and reaction.
Sophomoric prose: too much hedging and qualifying, e.g., "sort ofs" and "kind ofs"; similes made awkward by wrenched comparisons and excessive length; sloppy continuity and logic, e.g., the protagonist, Dresden, returns home after being out all day to pick up "fresh-baked bread" for a spell—if you've been away all day, how fresh could it be?
Jim Butcher overexplains Dresden's thoughts even where obvious: if a character clenches their fists and grits their teeth, you don't need to then say they are frustrated. Also, while some sexual objectification is to be expected given Storm Front's noir and hardboiled influences, Butcher writes these parts like a lecherous teenager. Dresden comes off like a leering pervert, less Bogey to Bacall.
The magic system suffers from its own inconsistencies. It is less a system and more an ass-pull. For example, magic users disrupt nearby machinery:
"It has something to do with being a wizard, with working with magical forces. The more delicate and modern the machine is, the more likely it is that something will go wrong if I get close enough to it."
Stereos, telephones, and elevators are affected yet Dresden can use cars without issue? His personal Volkswagen Beetle does break down in one scene. But that's due to the Beetle's age more than anything else because he rides cabs and drives a TransAm elsewhere without issue. (It's not a matter of chemical combustion versus electronics either because guns are also disrupted).
Another example: magic circles used for summoning or protection are easily broken by penetrating them. Near the end, a plastic canister pierces a field cast by such a circle, disabling it. However, earlier in the book, a plastic bottle thrown and caught from inside a similar circle does not disable it. Why?!
The pacing—to the extent I can discern it separately from prose—is good, with balanced beats of action and reaction.