Roo

Rating: 4 stars

Oh, this series. I love it. I love its take on divinity. I love its weirdness, its macabre nature. Long story short, I can't wait to get my hands on book 3 - thank God I don't have to wait long, as the series is completed.

If the Gutter Prayer was about the dirty, grimy underbelly of the criminal side to a city, then the Shadow Saint is about the grimy underbelly of politics. This is a book of politics and betrayal, ploys and plots and people being moved about as pawns, and I loathed it and loved it for it in equal measure, because I knew that while I wanted as a reader to see it be a story of people rising to ideals, I also knew it wasn't that story, and Ryder-Hanrahan stayed true to the characters around him. It makes those moments that aren't about such things count more, and makes you appreciate the instances of morals, ethics and ideals as the standouts that they are.

Onto some details. If you're going into this book expecting a straight continuation of the story of Cari, Spar and Rat, you will be disappointed. I was at first when I realised that the viewpoint characters of this novel are not the ones we've just spent a book in the minds of. But when you put that behind you, you can find a new cast of viewpoint characters to settle in with. We still see Cari, Spar and Rat, but they are not the whole focus. The storyline does follow through on seeds planted in the Gutter Prayer, and so it feels like a natural continuation. But a band of thieves is not who is politicking, so the plot has shifted its lens to more appropriate characters, notably a spy, a soldier turned spy, and Eladora Duttin. It's a credit to Ryder-Hanrahan as well, because when I left the Gutter Prayer, I was very ambivalent about Eladora, who I would say is the most central viewpoint character of the book. I didn't hate her, but the idea of spending a book inside her mind did make me feel let down. Except, somehow, a third of the way through this book, I was incensed because someone was taking advantage of my prim, prissy scholar, and how dare they? Now, I care about Eladora, and to the other characters, having wants and hopes for their resolutions. Ryder-Hanrahan is a writer who can worm characters inside your mind, and make you care about them, even if you didn't think you would at the offset.

Plotwise, by the end of the last book, Guerdon had unleashed a godbomb, and that trial run now comes back to bite the city on its ass. Guerdon has risked its one most important asset, its neutrality in the Godswar, by showing the world that it has created a weapon capable of destruction of the gods, and it becomes very quickly apparent that other forces in the world are now looking at Guerdon and its godbombs with fear and desire. Through this plot, the worldbuilding is expanding outside of Guerdon. We gain a better understanding of the many gods of the world and the scope of the Godswar, and how it has destroyed many peoples lives in ways both big and small. The nature of divinity and consumption is very laid out, to the point where you understand that in a war of Gods, humanity is nothing more than a fuel to be burned through, a plainly stated fact that Ryder-Hanrahan does nothing to hide. Though the fact could be argued to be overstated through the book, perhaps hammered home too many times, the fact also is that it is needed so that you understand exactly why a Godswar is a terrible thing to behold. In the prior book, it was a distant madness consuming the world that Guerdon was safe from. Here, the threat of it is much more present, and the grotesque glory of the gods is approaching quickly on the horizon. Through this book, we see what it is the Guerdon is facing down. The threat feels real, and the human cost to it is plain. Humanity to gods is a candle, and they will burn through all of them to get where they want to go. You understand the exact desperation of people to flee the Godswar, to be far away from it at any cost, and what exactly Guerdon has jeopardised by announcing their godbomb's efficiency in the prior book.

In my previous flaws I noted in Ryder-Hanrahan's writing, it feels like a lot of that has cleared up. The writing is easier to follow, but one could argue that is because the viewpoint in this book does not have to contend with being the many perspectives of bells. The one other thing I noted was the absence of needlessly complicated words. Previously, I noted that at times it felt like reading a book written by someone who had a PhD in English and had forgotten to who they were writing, but not in this book. There may have been one or two instances of words that felt too complicated for the message being given, but far fewer. The end effect is that the book is easier to parse, and you don't get pulled out of the story for a desperate moment to look up a word.

Much like in the Gutter Prayer, the plot itself may seem to wind slowly up, giving you separate scenes that feel disjointed, but by the end, you see it has all come together into a tapestry, and each thread feels necessary. Necessary though it is, there can be a few sections that drag on a little. Not enough to put you off entirely, but you wonder when it is that the shape of the plot is coming together, especially as my copy of the book had a very sparse blurb that told me very little of what was coming. I took it on faith that Ryder-Hanrahan would spin something together that made sense, and it did, but at times I did wonder, what was the book I was reading about? What was it talking about?

Overall, I enjoyed the book. I enjoy the series. Gareth Ryder-Hanrahan has me intrigued enough in his plot and his writing that I'm considering buying another book from him, not even from this series, just because of how the way he has written these two books has given me a level of trust in him, and that's a wonderful thing to feel. I've read books where I've left the book feeling disappointed, feeling unsure on continuing, and that's not what's happened here. I've left the Shadow Saint feeling intrigued and eager for more. I feel the premise of the book was paid off, I feel that what I thought we were exploring was explored, maybe not entirely thoroughly, but enough to satiate me. Moreover, I feel like I have an idea of what comes next (if I had to guess, now an exploration in the underbelly of wartime), and I want to dig in.

Rating: 3.25 stars

It's hard to write a review on this book, largely because I feel like I was given more of an extended prologue into the true story, as opposed to a story. There are certainly aspects throughout the book that feel like they are giving in to the most cliched contrivances of worldbuilding and characterisation, and yet both the author and characters seem to be aware of such things, which make it hard to fully formulate my thoughts. Am I reading a book falling prey to easy, if not lazy, conventions, or am I reading a book that is examining these conventions and using them as shorthand for a larger theme? I can't tell either way, though I can probably find evidence for both sides of the argument. All this makes this book hard to classify: I'm intrigued by the series' future, and yet still unsure if it will be worth my while to continue. It feels like the book is balancing on a knife edge, and could easily fall to either side, either a story filled with lazy narrative choices or a story about the cages of cycles that we are doomed to repeat.

Going away from this, it's clear to my mind the author was inspired by Sun King Louis and to some degree, perhaps even King Louis XVI. I'm not against this - it created cohesion amongst the naming of characters, and for the worldbuilding, created a scenario that I was very comfortable in believing. The extension of the titles like “Sun King” into the actual mythology of the world was intriguing, and for the gods and religion, again, I'm very intrigued. In this world, all but one of the gods has died, and the city where the story is based lies upon the tomb of one of the fallen gods - notably, the betrayer goddess of night and death. From her body, a type of magic known as Mortem seeps out into the world, bringing with it death that can be channeled only by those who have had close to death experiences and returned back from it. Moreover, the Gods we are told ascended from humans, and so there's a thread here that I would love to see explored about the nature of divinity, which I think will actually be done. In this world, religion and government are tied, much like how many kings of old established their claims through mythologising their rise as being ordained by gods. In this, it is actually true, and the ruling line is the “chosen” of the one remaining God, Apollius. Lastly, there's a magic in poison, though I'm not entirely clear if this is a world wide magic, or simply because of the leaking Mortem from the Buried Goddess' body causing a more geographically restricted magic, and continual dosing of poison can carry with it not only a euphoric high, but can extend a body's lifespan, suspending them between life and death. In a way, it is a very fitting theme that runs through the book, and another area I would like to see further explored - though the Buried Goddess is disdained, almost everyone is willing to utilise the decay of her immortal body to preserve their own life. Death, it appears, is only something to be disparaged if you cannot use it.

In short, I find the worldbuilding so intriguing. There's not a lot of delving into this, but I feel like the rest of series hinges upon further uncovering on that aspect. But is the world enough to keep me going? The prose is poetic and descriptive, but the characterisation to some degree falls flat. The entire book takes place over the course of a month, maybe a month and a half (the exact specifics get a little blurry due to some small time leaps), and though the text and characters themselves are aware of inconsistencies between what they expect to have happened, and what has happened, the discrepancy never quite feels explained enough. If the story goes the way I think it may, this could entirely be in due course and explainable, but it still leaves a strange taste in the mouth. I keep expecting the other shoe to drop, for when I know that this wasn't a conscientious choice on the author's part in service of a greater theme and narrative, but lack of oversight towards the reality of what a character would be feeling and thinking.

Pushing all that side, I also didn't necessarily believe in the intelligence of some of the characters. Some I thought were too intelligent, somehow too ahead of the game to be anything but the author needing to make certain moves to have pieces where she needed them, and some seemed to be too unaware. Again, considering the origins of our main character Lore, who was largely raised in the alleys and streets of the city, perhaps this is because they are out of their depth in a way that they cannot comprehend, or it is just to make sure for the author that nothing is revealed until it meets the most dramatic point? I feel like for most of this, the answer is simple: only time and further reading in this series will reveal if I am to be delighted and utterly disappointed by the author.

In short, while I am intrigued by this book and its series, I am in no way swept away from it. I don't know if the series itself is worth my attention, nor if the writing is living up to expectation or about to sink in the most cliched contrivances of the craft, which is a great shame. Such a reaction does little more than to make me wonder if I should read the next book or quit while I'm ahead, before disappointment sets in, if it will. On one hand, perhaps I save myself a let down. On the other, perhaps I lose out on a gem of series. Who knows? Fundamentally, a first book in a series sets out to ask a question: are you entertained and intrigued enough to stay with me? And my answer is I don't know. What is worse, I wonder - to leave your reader disappointed, or to leave your reader so unsure of their own feelings that they don't know if they want to read anymore?

Rating: 4 stars
Who would I recommend this for?: fantasy lovers who are a little sick of the usual tropes, people who like exploring the dirty and grimy portions of the world, but don't quite want grimdark.

Oh dear Lord, this book. I love it - it's weird and creepy and every layer that was peeled back made me more fascinated. This is a book that drops you into its story and setting, and lets you either swim with the premise or fall to the wayside. Sometimes, that sink or swim aspect of the writing was hard to work with. I remember reading the prologue twice, because the first time I couldn't figure out what point of view I was in, and I remember stopping and pausing when the first description of Tallowman to try and comprehend it. But once I had adjusted my way of reading, I was able to swim along with the story and get immersed in it. I liked walking into the story and being exposed to such strange things, utterly outside the usual fantasy conventions of elves, orcs and dwarves. If you can let yourself get pulled into the story and not caught up in the questions in your mind, or have the patience to give some paragraphs an extra long read to try and understand what Hanrahan is trying to tell you, then the book feels so rewarding for your imagination.

Added to this, I will say that sometimes Hanrahan uses words that feel needlessly complicated for what he's trying to convey. Does it somewhat feel like someone with a PhD in English wrote a story? Yes, because there were words in this book like “ersatz” and “perspicacity”, which could have been far more easily understood if words like “substitute” and “shrewdness” were used instead. Once I'd gotten the gist that my gut instinct of what the word meant was either right, or close enough, I stopped getting so caught up on the different words used, but the fact remains - these are not common words to find when reading. And while I don't mind expanding my vocabulary, it does say something about the ease of reading in this book. It does complicate the experience, so if you're new to reading, coming across these things - along with the “sink or swim” type worldbuilding, and the sometimes confusing POV or sentence structure - can make this a very intimidating read.

But if you can get through that, I feel like this book is a little dark gem. The basic premise is simple - three thieves, a Stone Man, a newcomer to the city and a ghoul, go on a heist that goes spectacularly wrong and unwittingly find themselves caught up in a city wide conspiracy that could change the entire city, if not the world. If you're looking for a heist book, unfortunately this is not that, but don't let that put you off.

We spend the vast majority of the time in the gutters and underbelly of a city that has grown corrupt. It's realised the profitable nature of neutrality in a world gone mad with war, and sells all manner of weapons to the armies across the seas, while also being the sole safe haven from a Godswar (which is exactly as you'd picture it). This world is not light and whimsical - Hanrahan doesn't shy away from illustrating the grimy nature of this world he's created. In this world, divinity, miracles and magic are all consumption, mostly the consumption of the soul, and there are various different factions that all compete for the delicious remnants of it, obtained through eating your brain or perhaps your liver or even your fingers. The things that have this power are outside of humanity, where gaining this power takes and takes from you until whatever is human is broken. Alchemy, the scientific magic if you will, is nearly always described in ways that render it completely alien and unnatural, and the two powers vie for control of the city Guerdon. In far off countries, Gods have gone to war, and in their war, they decimate the land. The miracles are used to attack, and their saints are forcibly changed, used up and exhausted by being possessed by gods that are either mad, angry or afraid. One of the standout chapters for me was an interlude where the point of view is of a saint of a god who is fighting the Godswar. The God that we see and their actions are both utterly true to the domain, but also completely disregard human consideration. The way Hanrahan uses gods is such a breath of fresh air and fascinates me. There's a disease that slowly petrifies and calcifies its unfortunate victims - and we are very close to the internal thoughts of one of those victims, who is contemplating how much longer before he loses his sight, his speech, maybe even his stomach, until his death comes from slow suffocation or starvation. The world we're in, the city of Guerdon, is patrolled by Tallowmen - lit and animated candles that are shaped in the mould and skin of people who have been melted down to create them. This is not a pleasant world - and yet it's entrancing.

I wouldn't necessarily say that it is grimdark - I haven't read a huge amount of the genre to say for certain in either direction - but there does feel like an undercurrent of hope runs throughout the book. Despite all the darkness that surrounds the characters, I always had hope for them, if not because of their drive to create a better world, but even just for the bond they had with each other. For the main characters, I liked the main trio, and there was never a moment reading that I was wishing for a different point of view. I even really enjoyed the points of view we received when the cast of characters expanded out, even if some of those characters started out in direct opposition to the original main trio. One of them, I was even very upset when their story came to its end within the novel.

The story rocks along, and seemingly disjointed things all come together by the back half - or even back third - to give you the full picture. Note that when I say disjointed, I don't mean things that feel hastily tacked on; I mean short interludes, like the standout saint chapter I mentioned above, or scenes from other POV characters that feel unconnected in the moment to the greater plot, but later you realise are completely connected. Aside from some technical issues with the writing that I noted above, the only thing that I felt like perhaps didn't form as cohesively with the rest of the story was the end villain. It felt a little out of nowhere, in that I didn't quite understand the motivations, but in a world of mad gods and endless greed, perhaps that's kind of to be expected. In a world of bountiful power and people who can take it, maybe some people will just decide to take it.

I believe I likened it once to a macabre little fairy tale, and though this is no fairy tale, the feeling remains. This is a dark little gem with a fascinating world that I can't wait to delve further into.

Rating: 3 Stars
Who would I recommend this to?: Someone wanting a very atmospheric read, with lighter plot elements (as in not super plot heavy) but dark atmosphere.

I wanted to like this one so much more than I did. There's nothing wrong with the writing - it is lovely and lyrical. The problem I had with it overall was it was so hard to get through. For being a smaller book (only about 8 hours via audiobook), I was not motivated to finish it. It felt like a chore to continue through it, as the plot I only felt really started to kick in by the 65% mark, and left the first half filled with nothing more than often repetitious atmosphere building.

Now one might say that Gothic literature is all about that atmosphere, and to a certain degree, I would agree. But somehow in this novel, between the long descriptors, the often repeated fragments of writing, it felt like V. E. Schwab was artificially stringing it out. I wasn't get swept into the environment, because I was getting impatient with the fact that we had heard this piece of prose at least four times before, and in a book as small as this, we clearly didn't need another repetition, word for word, when it had last been recited only a chapter before. If it wasn't that, we were describing some part of the setting, in a sentence that wound itself in circles finding new metaphors and similies to describe the exact same qualities. I managed to push through to get to the ending, but that was solely because I had the book on a loan, and was rapidly coming up towards its return date. Otherwise, I think it would have languished away until I found myself motivated to continue.

When I did get to the back quarter of the book, the pace did pick up, but I was left feeling like the plot that was unfurling had suddenly lacked two or three plot points. Not because of a plothole, but because of how much nothing had seemed to happen, and then when I finally felt we were getting somewhere, it was just about finished! I feel like a good fifteen to twenty percent of the front half of the book could have slimmed off and the novel turned into a novella, and it would have benefited from the tighter pace. All in all, it's a book written in a lovely way, but feels like it was scraped too thin.

Rating: 2 Stars - scrapes expectations to average.
Who would I recommend this for?: Entry level fantasy, or someone after a fantasy book that doesn't demand much of them and they're just here to vibe along with some dragons and romance.

Ah, Fourth Wing. I'm trepidatious of anything hyped on Booktok - as someone who has been reading the fantasy genre for years, most of what they recommend seems to be better suited for someone just dipping their toes into the genre, as opposed to someone who is old hat at it. Not that there's really anything wrong with that, but when you are constantly marketed as something being the best fantasy book to exist and come in to find something of a very middling quality instead, it lets you down. I wanted to like this book - it has dragons! And war! - but seeing it on Booktok made me hesitate. It was only when I had several people swear to me up and down that it met and exceeded the hype that I decided I'd try it. And though I believe that they had fun with this book, and to a degree, I did as well, this book certainly wasn't the standard for me.

Let's start with the pros. The plot rollicks along and sweeps you with it. I read this book in two days, and I don't often say that with a full time work schedule. But the writing was easy, the plot kept pacing along - though after about the 60% mark where Violet gets her dragons, it did start to slow, leaving me wondering where the rest of the story was going to kick in. Regardless, the book promised action and dragons, and it delivered on that. I got lost for a few days in this world, and that's what a book ultimately should do first and foremost. It should transport you somewhere else.

But as disappointing as it is to say, that's kind of where the pros stop. The prose itself was simple, and to the story's detriment. I would have believed that this book was written for a YA audience, if not for the copious swearing and the sex scenes in the back half of the novel, just because of how it is written. In fact, the style of writing is very reminiscent of a late 2000's teen, and it very much reads that way. “For the win” is used within the book only a handful of times, but each time brought me out of my immersion, because I was suddenly not in the mind of characters facing life and death situations as twenty year olds, but flashing back to being fourteen in an internet chatroom. I also would have believed that this was the author's debut book, but it's not - while it may be Yarros' first foray into fantasy as far as I can tell, it's certainly not her first novel, which makes the overly simplistic prose and characterisation fall flat. This isn't the problem of a debut author, but either a lack of care or skill by an author who has written over a dozen books. Fantasy can be a daunting genre, but the heart of a story always remains the same - it's the characters that make a story.

Characterisation also falls flat - the half dozen side characters we are surrounded with have very little personality outside one or two notes. This one is harmless, but always talking. This one is a hard ass, but physically strong. This one is supportive and loyal. Some characters we only begin to hear a piece of their personality about a scene or two before Yarros kills them off, to illustrate the deadly nature of the war college, leaving us little time to be attached. We also largely don't get any information about why these characters are here, in a very deadly subsection of the war college. Yes, we are told that the Riders are a prestigious subsection, the effective top rung of the ladder, but given how many are killed during training, why are these people drawn towards it? No real answer is given but “because dragons!”, which is not really enough. Did these people volunteer to be soldiers, were they conscripted? How do they feel? Yarros doesn't tell us, and the plot sweeps us past thinking about these characters.

There's also a touch of the Tiffany problem with the naming, and the names themselves seem to follow no consistent theme. We have a Liam right alongside a Xaden, a Dain alongside a Tynan alongside a Dylan alongside a Trina alongside a Jesinia alongside a Sawyer. If someone called Tiffany was stuck in the mix, I'd believe it, because it feels like that level of disconnection between theme and actuality is just a given now. While some of the characters hail from the same region (country within the empire?), you wouldn't be able to pick them due to any theme from names, only when we're told that they all hail from the same place. Initially, I thought some of the surnames have a feeling (note, feeling, not necessarily a true origin from) of a Greek surname - ie, Aetos - but as I went further into the story, I began to see that this largely wasn't indicative of anything. Instead, it just felt like this combination of letters together sounded enough like a fantasy name that Yarros decided it worked, and never thought about it again. The plot rolls along, and under its pacing, things like this get swept into a corner to only ruminate on when you're finished.

And the problem with characterisation is rife throughout the book, even into the leading characters. I don't believe in the half attempted love triangle, because every time the real male lead is brought onto the scene, we're treated to several sentences describing him as scorching hot. I don't believe in the enemies to lovers aspect, because Violet is nearly always lusting after him within a few seconds of meeting him, describing with relish and detail the precise aspects of his eyes and how she finds him troublesomely hot. It was so often and repetitive that I was beginning to roll my eyes every time the two shared a scene - hardly what one really wants when it is your main couple. The other male love interest gets perhaps a paragraph or two, and some fond remembrances in a couple of scenes, before all those fall away. While I understand Yarros was going for an angle of one falling out of love, or perhaps even love through nostalgia being stripped away, I didn't really believe in the love at the start enough to even believe in that plot point.

Worldbuilding seems largely minimal, which could just be because the vast majority of the plot is constrained to the war college, and in first person narration, without leaving those bounds, we have no reason to see any of the lore that Yarros may have hidden away. But I was left feeling very muddled about worldbuilding regardless - I couldn't tell you if Navarre is an empire or a country, or if the other countries mentioned are vassal countries or states of Navarre. Given what little we do know of the world and it's Reunification wars, I'm led to believe the Navarre is an Empire, but its leader is a King, not an Emperor. Similarly, the magic system (being channelled through dragon bonds) feels like a mish-mash of Marvel superpowers, as opposed to any system. Someone can change something's size, someone else can astral project, someone else can manipulate ice. These powers are meant to be a reflection of the dragon rider's innate self, and yet, I find these powers to be largely chosen at convenience and “cool” factor. If someone had X-ray vision, it would make just as much sense as anything else, and yet be so thematically dissonant with the fantasy genre as a whole, and that is an issue.

What worldbuilding we do get largely comes from internal thoughts of Violet and - more strikingly - when she's trying to calm herself down. Previously trained as a to-be scribe - an academic/librarian type figure within the universe - Violet has a comprehensive knowledge of the world and lore that she repeats to herself when in moments of high stress. Where this idea fails however is the execution - in trying to straddle characterisation and worldbuilding, it fails at both. The snippets we get never show Violet's fear at the life threatening situation she is in, being repeated without a stumble, hesitation or incorrect detail given, so clearly the situation doesn't give her nearly as much fear as Yarros is trying to lead me to believe, but I also don't pay enough attention to this snippet of world politics and lore because Yarros is telling me the more pressing issue is the life or death situation in front of me. In a book based around war and conflicts, knowing about trade agreements and geopolitical situations is valuable for enriching the world, but because of how Yarros chooses to give us this information, I don't hold on it. It serves neither Violet's characterisation beyond lipservice that she is booksmart, nor world exposition because the reader is too distracted by Violet's external situation.

In all, the book feels very surface level, and because of that, you're pulled along by the plot and not much else. Plot twists are largely seen coming, and though the school is deadly, barring one or two events, you don't much care about who dies because they are a list of names and one note traits for all that we are given to care for the characters. A world of dragon riders and griffin riders should be cool, but what we are given is undermined by muddled worldbuilding, dissonance between the writing, characterisation and genre, and at times shallow characterisation that tells you more than it shows you. If you want an easy read that asks very little of you, then Fourth Wing might be your Sunday afternoon read. If you're after a more fulfilling read, I'd choose something else.

In one last gripe, why does everyone and their mother lately seem to believe that shadow powers have inherent physicality to them? While I can to some degree believe this in ACOTAR, as Rhysand does hail from the Night Court, so his "shadow powers" could be less shadows, and more shadow aesthetic to match his Court, Xaden's shadow manipulation abilities being able to kill people and catch him if he falls makes no sense. Blind people? Sure. I'd even allow shadow puppetry. But catch him? Nah man. Get out of here with that.

Rating: 3.75 Stars

Matthew Reilly writes a very specific kind of book. I know this, and I went in knowing it. Matthew Reilly writes books that are more akin to big summer blockbusters with dazzling set pieces that have thrown realism out the window, because what are we here for, if not to be entertained? If you go in, knowing this, not expecting to read a book overly concerned with the practicalities of survival in life and death situations, then I believe you'll have a great time. Turn off the rational mind, enjoy the action. Let the ride take you along.

If you're the type to get bogged into “but that wouldn't happen!”, maybe set the book down. It's okay, it's not for you. Because make no mistake, Matthew Reilly writes books that doesn't overly care about the survival rates of limb amputations from a killer whale's bite, and cares more about the fact that that one soldier survived being dropped in a pool with said whales by stunning them, and that is cool. Rule of cool is the name of the game here, with a fair chunk of well researched knowledge about the weapons of choice of various commando units and what makes research stations go boom, but largely, we're talking rule of cool.

The plot is simple: something is found in a remote ice station in Antarctica, and the resulting distress signal sends that information out to the world. Multiple factions across the world converge on the titular ice station with various aims. We largely follow the American Marine unit sent it, as the base is American, who are sent to secure the station and ensure the safety of its research scientists. A few chapters every now and again weave in a few other characters who circulate around the plot that occurs in the southernmost continent of the world. Action comes thick and fast, and the writing suits it. This is Reilly's second book, but largely, his writing in my experience has always been the same - largely simple, easy to parse, and often in short sections that serve the action of the story well.

Reilly, in this book, is especially fond to two things. The first is cutting away to a different viewpoint or piece of action without revealing what a character has just understood in the aim of extending tension - which does work, to his credit - and occasionally inserting a few paragraphs that go to show that he has done great research on the matter at hand, even if it's done more so in an infodump fashion. In terms of being the most sophisticated writing in the world, this is not it. But, it gets the job done, and the job is simple: it is to entertain me. And I am entertained, rooting for the small Marine unit that comes under heavy opposition and facing stacked odds against it.

It's always been where Reilly succeeds. He loves an underdog story, of great odds and good people trying their best to overcome them. Sometimes, his villains are written almost larger than life, but I'm not here to consume these books to make think pieces and philosophical arguments about the roles of military use in the world. I came here to enjoy a fun ride that made use of, amongst other things, killer whales.

So, yes. 3.75 stars. I enjoyed my time. I'll probably come back to the book, as I have done before. However, I knew what it was. Reilly isn't trying to craft the next great novel of the twenty first century. He's not trying to create the new classic of the genre. He's trying to do something more achievable, and perhaps, more important: he's trying to entertain you. And if you come out of a chapter with a grin on your face because someone held the line and survived when they shouldn't, or finished an opponent with a quip, or simply because you found Wendy the furseal as the most adorable thing in the world, then he's done his job.

So grab the popcorn. Shut down the logical side of your brain. Anything that you need to keep in mind, you will be told. Otherwise, suspend disbelief, and for half a dozen hours or so, let yourself be pulled into a fantasy of an action film set at the bottom of the world. You just might have some fun.

Rating: 3.75 Stars

Matthew Reilly writes a very specific kind of book. I know this, and I went in knowing it. Matthew Reilly writes books that are more akin to big summer blockbusters with dazzling set pieces that have thrown realism out the window, because what are we here for, if not to be entertained? If you go in, knowing this, not expecting to read a book overly concerned with the practicalities of survival in life and death situations, then I believe you'll have a great time. Turn off the rational mind, enjoy the action. Let the ride take you along.

If you're the type to get bogged into “but that wouldn't happen!”, maybe set the book down. It's okay, it's not for you. Because make no mistake, Matthew Reilly writes books that doesn't overly care about the survival rates of limb amputations from a killer whale's bite, and cares more about the fact that that one soldier survived being dropped in a pool with said whales by stunning them, and that is cool. Rule of cool is the name of the game here, with a fair chunk of well researched knowledge about the weapons of choice of various commando units and what makes research stations go boom, but largely, we're talking rule of cool.

The plot is simple: something is found in a remote ice station in Antarctica, and the resulting distress signal sends that information out to the world. Multiple factions across the world converge on the titular ice station with various aims. We largely follow the American Marine unit sent it, as the base is American, who are sent to secure the station and ensure the safety of its research scientists. A few chapters every now and again weave in a few other characters who circulate around the plot that occurs in the southernmost continent of the world. Action comes thick and fast, and the writing suits it. This is Reilly's second book, but largely, his writing in my experience has always been the same - largely simple, easy to parse, and often in short sections that serve the action of the story well.

Reilly, in this book, is especially fond to two things. The first is cutting away to a different viewpoint or piece of action without revealing what a character has just understood in the aim of extending tension - which does work, to his credit - and occasionally inserting a few paragraphs that go to show that he has done great research on the matter at hand, even if it's done more so in an infodump fashion. In terms of being the most sophisticated writing in the world, this is not it. But, it gets the job done, and the job is simple: it is to entertain me. And I am entertained, rooting for the small Marine unit that comes under heavy opposition and facing stacked odds against it.

It's always been where Reilly succeeds. He loves an underdog story, of great odds and good people trying their best to overcome them. Sometimes, his villains are written almost larger than life, but I'm not here to consume these books to make think pieces and philosophical arguments about the roles of military use in the world. I came here to enjoy a fun ride that made use of, amongst other things, killer whales.

So, yes. 3.75 stars. I enjoyed my time. I'll probably come back to the book, as I have done before. However, I knew what it was. Reilly isn't trying to craft the next great novel of the twenty first century. He's not trying to create the new classic of the genre. He's trying to do something more achievable, and perhaps, more important: he's trying to entertain you. And if you come out of a chapter with a grin on your face because someone held the line and survived when they shouldn't, or finished an opponent with a quip, or simply because you found Wendy the furseal as the most adorable thing in the world, then he's done his job.

So grab the popcorn. Shut down the logical side of your brain. Anything that you need to keep in mind, you will be told. Otherwise, suspend disbelief, and for half a dozen hours or so, let yourself be pulled into a fantasy of an action film set at the bottom of the world. You just might have some fun.

DNF @ 41%

By rights, I should have liked this book. Gang leader King Arthur? Anachronistic writing? Shit, I gobbled that up in King Arthur: Legend of the Sword. Gritty? Also gobbled that up when King Arthur was a conscripted Roman legionnaire and his round table were the other conscripted boys who had managed to survive the long years of their service. Weird fey angles? Did you know that I have been devouring the game, Tainted Grail, which is all about weird fey shit in a post-King Arthur, Arthurian world?

My problem was, I like Arthurian legend too much to like this book. I like what it represents. I like the idea of a war torn land being united under a leader who respects those who follow him. I like the ideals of truth and justice and King Arthur being followed not because he was just charismatic or was hung like a war elephant, but because he was decent and good and fought to protect the people. In short, I liked all the things that Tidhar stripped away from this book in the name of satire.

King Arthur as an almost sociopathic power hungry man? Merlin as a half-fey who feeds on power, and so is drawn to whatever machinations he can to feed on? Everyone just wanting to be the biggest kid on the playground for no reason than they want to have big dick energy? Honour, chivalry, decency? Nah, not here. Interesting sure, but not for me, not in a King Arthur retelling. And considering I love Robin Hood more than King Arthur, I'm not continuing to that one either. 

Rating: 3 Stars

This book was fine. I enjoyed it enough to read it quickly, I had a decent time. However, if there was one thing that I came out of the book thinking, it was that it could have been so much more of a book if it had been more willing to steep itself within the genre.

One Dark Window is marketed as a lush, gothic fantasy book, and to a degree, it's true. However, the problem to me is that the book is afraid to really dig into the hallmarks, tropes and other markers of what is Gothic literature. A good gothic novel should be drenched in atmosphere and, for lack of a better word, vibes. I previously read this year Gallant by V.E. Schwab, which was a good 70% atmosphere/vibe, with much less of the novel dedicated to advancement of the plot. Aesthetic and mood setting are so important in Gothic literature, and that's where I feel this book let itself down. There's just enough of a kernel of Gothic undertones to make you really wish that the author had doubled down and committed to it. Themes and undercurrents of paranoia, fear, betrayal, possession, death, decay, sacrifice and blood were present, but it was like seeing a shallow puddle, when we should have been staring into the deep depths of the ocean and watching light fade into obscured darkness, and the book, to my opinion, would have been much better for it.

I didn't hate the characters, though at times I did wonder if their actions would have been better suited for a more heroic fantasy tale as opposed to Gothic, and the romance was neither here nor there to me. Perhaps, I'm simply missing the slowburn of yonder years, but it felt altogether too rushed to me. I'm looking for a Rick O'Connell and Evy Carnahan, where they discover things about one another and bond and actually grow towards an interest with one another, as opposed to the trend where there's seemingly love at almost first sight. Attraction at first sight is believable, but I've found myself growing tired of characters who see the love interest for the first time, and then their minds are utterly captured by the love interest. This book is certainly not the worst for this, please do not misunderstand me, but there are echoes of that trope within the pages, and I'm simply done with it for now. It would certainly take a very convincing plot, characters and author to get me back on the side of a more “instant love” trope, and so far, no one is ticking that box for me.

In terms of worldbuilding, I was both happy and yet disappointed. Happy, because some aspects of this story showed real forethought from the author, as to how a magic system and its implementation within a world shapes the society. For example, the magic of this world was taught by a woodland spirit, and so the major nobility are all named for trees, as the society revered the wood. This is good worldbuilding, showing a flow on effect of magic being introduced, and how it shapes and moulds the society around it into something else. When I discovered this, it was wonderful, and I could even put together how this worked without the author needing to explain it piece by piece. However, only a page or two later, the author did explain piece by piece, leading me to know that I didn't have to have my brain switched on here. This was going to be a story that held my hand, just in case, but it doesn't truly need to. The story's not that complicated when it comes down to it.

However I was disappointed as well, because as much as there was this aspect of forethought to the worldbuilding, it was used very sparingly. Some aspects of the worldbuilding are nothing more than vague mentions. Why, for instance, does the threatening mist not invade upon the paths or the human settlements? There was no answer that I can remember, though admittedly, I was reading at the most applicable time for a Gothic novel, after midnight. Because the worldbuilding is these aspects was very blank, I wasn't absorbed into the Gothic atmosphere, and it hurt the main quest of the book by taking away some of the danger factor, because how was I to know how dangerous the encroaching mist is, if it just is always lingering a way off, with nothing holding it back? I feel like the author missed out on an opportunity to really deepen the worldbuilding, which would have added to the atmosphere, the sense of danger and the questline in general. Instead, it all becomes a wee bit vague, like a background painting that's just a blur of colours suggestive enough to hint at what's happening, but not actually enough to really tell us what is surrounding the story we're being told.

Prose wise, it's neither here nor there. The author felt best when she was using her more Gothic characters - a half mad Prince, a Nightmare in the main character's mind - who spoke in riddles, but things weren't always consistent. We're quickly told that when the Nightmare speaks, “his smooth, eerie voice called in rhythmic riddles”, and yet not even a page after that, we see the Nightmare speaking plainly. Because of how it moves between those two voices, it begs the question: why has Elspeth, who's had this Nightmare for eleven years, still so unaware of its capability and origin? When the Nightmare talks in rhyming half riddles, I understand, but when it speaks plainly... I understand less as to how she doesn't understand. This book thrives when it digs itself into the trappings of Gothic literature, straddling dream and nightmare, riddles and truths, and yet it continually pulls itself back from those aspects, to its own detriment.

As a smaller aside, there are some flashbacks which are plainly infodumps that feel graceless and could have been better intertwined into the narrative through more thorough worldbuilding, or if we had more flashbacks, to set up the main character as a very reflective, pensive individual. Instead, we get a few flashbacks that serve only to dump some world lore on the reader and nothing more, making the few we get stand out quite garishly. Secondly, there's a point of view shift towards the end that is part of an ongoing issue I'm seeing in these newer romantasy books, where we will spend the entire narrative in one POV style - in this case, first person POV - and then fundamentally shift POV at the end for a “stinger” like chapter. Authors, if you are intending on doing this, please understand that limited third person POV is in fact, a thing, and can be done for a cast of characters, usually a small number. For example, George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire does this throughout the novels, and even the newest ACOTAR book, A Court of Silver Flames, does this. It means the POV change is less jarring, but allows you to change point of view on the fly to whatever character you decide is worth seeing through the eyes of.

Overall, this book is fine. It's not the greatest book in the world like some people on TikTok may hype it to be, but it's fine. My end thought is that it doesn't dig nearly deep enough into it's Gothic themes and aesthetics, which is a real shame, as that's where I felt the author was doing best. It could be made great, if it had more consistency to worldbuilding, tone, atmosphere and theme, but it's decent enough. It has a coherent plot, decent enough characters that you're not sick to death of them by the end and enough left in the tank to warrant its sequel, but whatever it needed to push it to the realm of great, it just wasn't willing to fully commit to, unfortunately.

Rating: 4.5 Stars

This is a book written by someone who understands the way stories change you, and that is one of the highest compliments I can think to give. It's written with love for stories, and an understanding that humans need stories. It has a heart to it, of love, redemption, and the way we are changed by the people around us and the stories we are told, and that is something so earnest that I have always loved.

The mythology of this book is wonderful, and simple to follow, but with some interesting aspects of it that I truly appreciated, such as the escaped books bleeding ink instead of blood. The prose is at times, slightly too quippy, but it leans more (to me) as tongue in cheek. The writer knows stereotypes and tropes, which itself becomes a part of the mythology, until the writer gives a tip of the hat and a knowing wink to them by playing with them entirely. The characters - as some have noted - can feel a little static, but given that the entirety of the novel takes place within about 48 hours, I felt that was fair. There was some character work, but this was primarily a plot driven novel in a quick time crunch, so I can forgive this part of it. I'm more interested in how characters develop in the next books, now that time has had the chance to pass.

I did have some disappointments - the villain reveal felt a bit expected, and I honestly thought there would be a pay off for a certain character that ended in a completely different way than I had thought. Not necessarily a bad way, but I do think the one that I predicted might have landed a more emotional gut punch than the one that we got.

Ultimately, I think for someone who is an avid reader or writer, reading something like this would be good for them. I came out of this novel wanting to write, wanting to be creative, because I came out of this book feeling like there was no such thing as an unimportant idea. That stories live on, even if not written or completed, in how we are shaped by that moment of creativity. Is this the highest form of entertainment known to man? No. It's a short book, with a relatively simple plot and characters but also with an earnest heart that loves the stories that have come before and the writers of the past and the future with all that it can give, and that's pretty special too.