Metal From Heaven - August Clarke

I'm at a loss with Metal From Heaven. It's passionate. It's bloody. It's personal. It's a song for the regular person in the face of oppressive systemic forces, a carmine hymn of revolution and sacrifice. And it's also a story of a lost person looking for a family, looking for truth and definition and love, sometimes, some way or another. There's a splash of magic in there too, of the kind that surrounds us every day, as well as the flashier sort.

That person is Marney Honeycutt. Marney is the child of workers brought in to work on a miracle substance, driving an industrial revolution, changing the world. But that substance, that mysterious metal, is changing them, changing their children, changing Marney. Making them sick. Making them better. Making them other. And in a sign of the story to come (unabashed in its exploration of revolutionary ideals), Marney's family, and everyone she knows, are murdered by snipers and strikebreakers when they protest and ask their employer for help. That inciting event is a hammer on Marney's life, a boulder thrown athwart a stream. it breaks her, and us along with her, and what they become to survive is someone very different indeed. It's worth taking a second to talk further about this, because the immediacy, the bloody-handed ruthlessness, the sense of place are all pitch-perfect here. The gruesome details are not spared, and the innocence and desire for change are such that you can taste them in the air, alongside the blood and gunpowder. This is a story that stares unflinching into the costs of things, and it's also, there's no way around it, an angry book, a book whose characters are all notable for the searing intensity of their needs and desires.

It's also a book that isn't afraid to look at women - what it means to be one, where the fault lines are, what the internal dialogue on that is. Sisters, daughters, mothers. They're the characters here. I'm struggling to think of more than one or two folks of another gender in the story at all. This is a story of and about women, and, on a grittier, somewhat sweatier, kinder level, a story about queer women specifically. There's more than a splash of sex, that's true, and it's written with a feverish energy that infects as you turn the pages, a desire that sweeps under the table and ends up in a passionate clinch on the floor of a closet somewhere. t's a book that approaches queer politics, then wraps that up n a silk shift carrying a Molotov cocktail. I genuinely can't talk about what this book is about, because it's about too much. There's the growth of a revolution and collective emancipation. There's more than one quietly fierce romance, and at least one that starts at knifepoint. There's conversation about power and how to wield it and what those in authority will do or not, and whether power itself is an amoral entity. And there's Marney, walking one page at a time toward the revenge she's wished for every day, balancing that against the life she may want to live, and the costs she may have to bear.

It's a bloody excellent book, basically, but it's also a high-energy high impact exploration of revolution-by-disaster-lesbians, and in that, in its rich world and tapestry of strange and unusual lives filled with love and lost and blood and mud and a passionate intensity that roars off the page, I'd say it makes a damn good read.

Ink & Sigil - Kevin Hearne

Ink & Sigil is the start of a new series for Kevin Hearne, best known for his Iron Druid series, the eponymous hero of which, an immortal druid with a fondness for dogs and Irish whiskey, contends with a  variety of supernatural menaces whilst (mostly) trying to stay alive. That series was always snappy, pulpy fun, and a great way to pep up a long commute or plane trip. Ink & Sigil is the same, but different. Rather than deal in the vivid vistas of Arizona, it has a rather grungier aesthetic, being set in, well Glasgow. Yes, the one in Scotland. And instead of an immortal druid, we get Al MacBharrais, sigil agent. And old man with a curse on his head, and the ability to write sigils that provide magical powers ranging from the ominously labelled unchained destruction through to the rather more amusing sigil of sexual potency. And MacBharrais has a problem - his apprentice has been murdered. Again. And he needs to find out who did it, and why, before whatever  dastardly goings on culminate in, well, unchained destruction. Or at least a bloodier than usual Tuesday afternoon.

I'll say this for Hearne. He obviously spent some time in Glasgow, and the rest of Scotland. The locations central to the story are provided in vivid detail, and with obvious affection. Being able to describe a gin-bar down to the ground, including the menu and a favourite drink order, is the sort of detail work that makes the city come alive. There's maybe a bit of the cultural Disneyland about it, but in general, Glasgow is approached here with honesty, but also with a positive energy that infuses the locations with an energy and grace you sometimes miss in stories desperate to make of Glasgow something more noir, I think the less urban locations suffer a bit by comparison, but maybe its just that we spend less time in them, relatively speaking. If this isn't the Glasgow you know, it at least has shades of it in its metaphorical hair, and it feels right, at least most of the time. I'll also note there's a pronunciation guide at the front of the book, which is, if nothing else, rather good fun - it has a touch of the sly humour that makes Hearne such an entertaining read.

We've already touched on Al MacBharrais. But suffice to say that rather than our typical action hero, he's something of a different mettle. A man in his sixties, with a penchant for a hat, a long coat, a cane and a slow dram, he is perhaps more thoughtful than Hearne's previous protagonists. That said, inhabiting the same supernatural world as the Iron Druid, he does come with all manner of ethereal connections to other realities and bits of magic. MacBharrais has a tendency to, well, look before he leaps which is rather refreshing. Considers how to solve a problem with the least harm. And, you know, isn't totally unable to pull out cans of magical murder if required, in his undercover role as a combination of supernatural law enforcement and immigration officer for the gods , goblins and godawfuls of about thirty different planes. He's joined by a whole cavalcade of memorable supporters, most of whom I won't spoil here, but a quick shout out to his office manager, Nadia, for being very much of a certain arse-kicking goth vibe, and receptionist Gladys-Who-Has-Seen-Some-Shit, who is, well, Canadian. More on that next time, maybe. I like the interactions between MacBharrais and his staff, who are, in many ways that natter, also his friends and connection to humanity, and I enjoy that they enjoy a clarity of moral purpose - there's never any real question that they, at least, are the good guys.

Which is just as well, because the plot is a supernatural potboiler that has more than a few bad guys, on multiple continents. It's a murder mystery and a  thriller and occasionally a brutally kinetic action movie. I've always applauded Hearne's pacing, and want to do so again here - the story does let up, from time to time, gives us room to breathe, but it never entirely unhooks you from the first page, and it's very easy to read just one more until it's three in the morning and you're realising you have to go to work in a few hours. Without all the convoluted backstories of a longer running series, Ink & Sigil is a fast flowing adventure, and if you're looking for a popcorn book to devour over the course of your commute, I recommend it entirely. It's fun, and has some nice things to say about family and trust and building community. And it also has a lot of magic and mayhem to back it up. Give it a whirl.

Some Desperate Glory - Emily Tesh

Some Desperate Glory is...well, its a lot. It's a story about the way society shapes those inside it. The way those people can ne harmed, or healed, or wounded by the environment and the people who surround them. It's about letting ourselves think for ourselves. It's about the world being stranger than our philosophy. Its about the journey that people make after everything they know of ends, about the way that societies shape themselves. And if that all sounds a bit highbrow...it's the story of Kyr. Of a young woman on the edge of space, in a militarised station on the edge of disaster, certain she's one of those who will fight back for humanity, willing to be a hero, and die in the process. And all of that is true, and there's more than enough war and death on the table here for anyone - but it's also not entirely accurate. Kyr's journey, uncovering who she is and whether that's who she wants to be...well, it's compelling, disturbing, enthralling stuff.

So yeah. Kyr. Kyr is young. And smart. And driven to succeed. And probably demanding too much of those around her, and herself. And Kyr sees herself as one of the last free humans alive. Because this is a universe after a war that humanity lost. A world where people were considered just too damn dangerous to leave lying around by the relevant polity. A universe where Earth was cracked like an egg, and the survivors scattered into a contained diaspora. Or, in the case of Kyr's relations, took the last remains of human military might and hid out on a space station on the edge of nowhere. Kyr is living in the traumatised remains of the death of our world, and it has...done something if a number on her. But, to be fair, on everyone else as well. The station she lives on is slowly slipping into obsolescence. There are patches holding walls and airlocks together. The systems are failing, the equipment is one short step from disaster. The sense of gender equality is slipping away, as the desire for a new generation outstrips the choices of those who would have to mother it. Kyr's station is a place filled with a claustrophobia, a paranoia, a sense of striving to justify oneself in the greater Purpose. Of being willing to accept the unacceptable in the service of someone elses goal. It's...not a nice place to live. And the people it has inside it are, well, people. But the younger ones, Kyr and her squad, see their choices limited, have their horizons foreshortened for them, and fighting against that is difficult, for them, perhaps not even wanted. It's an achingly familiar portrait of a closed society spiralling out into dark places, wrapped in a flag waving patriotism that feels ominous and familiar all at once.

Emily Tesh puts us behind Kyr's eyes, and draws us very quickly into her world. Ky's expectations are, in a sense, ours, and we accept them at face value as much as she does, at least initially. But Kyr is fierce and driven and smart, and if she's abrasive, competitive and prone to indulging the authority of those above her, that's at least somewhat understandable. She's a sympathetic protagonist, but it's clear that she's also one who has been hurt by the world she lives in, circumscribed by the feeling of few choices, and swimming in a worldview which may or may not be entirely accurate.

It's...really hard to talk about Some Desperate Glory without spoilers. I think, if I'm honest, that it's really, really good. Its a searing indictment of  cults of patriotism and personality and the rise of proto-fascism. And it is very willing to take reader expectations of what the story is about, who our heroes are, and flip them on their head. But its also a story about a found family, and a character study of a young woman reaching out, finding the confines she's embedded in, and breaking free. And it's also a high-concept science fiction story that explores some interesting technological and social changes after the end of the world, and the way that affects society and the people in it. 

This is a smart book, an angry book, and, much like its protagonist, a fierce book. It demands a lot from the reader, but pays it back with interest. In short, it's a  bloody excellent read, and thoroughly recommended.

Back shortly!

 We're unfortunately away dealing with life stuff, back soon!

Witch Queen of Redwinter - Ed McDonald

Witch Queen of Redwinter is the finale in Ed McDonald's Redwinter trilogy. And it has a looot to wrap up, given that the last instalment saw the start of the end of the world, and saw our heroine flung into an entirely different level of reality, whilst her ex-friend, now nemesis started the apocalypse, and her two best friends, both of whom she carrying a torch for, are less than pleased with her for some rather shoddy behaviour. So...lots to do. Does the story pull it off? Well, I think so. I had a good time with this one, and particularly enjoyed that even three books in, it was capable of surprising me. I think, on balance, that the series delivers on its promise, and this final novel sticks the landing pretty well to get us there.

Which brings us to Raine. The protagonist of the series, now wrapped up in seven shades of trauma. She's been betrayed, sacrificed friends, seen other friends murdered. She's fought demons from out of time and space, and dealt with the fact that some of her own magic is both deeply unpleasant, and would see her put to death if anyone knew about it. Raine has, honestly, had a bit of a time of it. Equally, that's shaped her, often not for the better. She can be cold and hard and lethal, uncaring and closed off, while at the same time yearning for some humanity, compassion and friendship. The Raine we have here is almost two people. One who thinks they need to do "what must be done", be it mass murder, using people like tools, or, you know, more discriminate, artisanal murder. That Raine is desperate to be an island alone, pushing her friends and connections aside in order to stop them from stopping her. On the other hand there's the Raine who knows that she needs those friends in order to be a person, in order to do anything worth a damn, in order to bring some humanity to being, you know, a necromantic magic user who can rip your soul out of your body and use it as a doormat. The tension between these two halves is a struggle for her, and it's hard not to empathise - though she's more able to realise her own agency here, Raine is still a creature of her past, of old hurts and old loves casting shadows from the past into the now. Her journey toward catharsis, toward recognising and absolving her own pain (whilst coincidentally causing her enemies to explode) has been a joy, and, well, a pain, and seeing it play out, seeing the shape that Raine pulls herself and the world into, in the end, is very much worth it.

Speaking of the world. We get to see all kinds of fun places this go around. Mostly notably the Fault, a weird not-reality filled with murderous undead, strange beasts, and shattered ruins from elsewhere and elsewhen. There's a crawling, sterile dread here, a sense that the other shoe is always about to drop, a sense that just existing in this space is inimical, is draining vitality and love and life from everything inside it, which either dies or turns homicidal as a result. Those of you who've read McDonald's other series, Blackwing may see some similarities here, in the eerie wasteland that is essentially a misery to get through. Still, the journey gives Raine time to try and deal with her baggage, and to work on her relationships with her friends, whom she absolutely definitely isn't in love with. And we also get to see more of the environs around Redwinter and the north, a place filled with peat glens and deep lochs, where all sorts of monsters and ancient legends lurk in the mist, ready to fuck up Raine's day - or those of her enemies, they aren't that picky.

Speaking of Raine's enemies - oh, they really are a bunch of small minded, awful people who just can't stop trying to make the universe all about their wants and needs, as opposed to just letting it be. Ovitus, in particular, returning for another round of being a terrible person, just has so much main-character syndrome it's untrue. And I am here to tell you that the story delivers on Raine's efforts to both save the world and get revenge. It has towering monsters. It has bloody, kinetic, occasionally unpleasantly graphic battles that don't flinch away from the cost, and show how glory is always soaked in blood. It has romance and found families, and the kind of raw emotion that makes your heart ache. And it wraps the whole story up with a denouement that left everything feeling, if not settled, then, well, done. The story delivers on tying up all the loose ends, on making us care, and on giving us a tale that puts your heart in your mouth and lets you sob and cheer in equal measure.

Anyway, it was a good time, and well worth the read!

Legends and Latte's - Travis Baldree

You know what, I'm late to the party on this one. People have been talking up Legends and Lattes for years, and I finally picked it up on sale the other day. And you know what, it's really very good. I'm hesitant to use the word "cozy", but I will say it has a delicious blend of gentle relationship building, action which if not epic in scale is extremely personally important, and  an overall, well, vibe of something comfortable. You're watching someone start fresh, build a new life, a new person, if you like, and deal with the consequences of that choice - and those don't always go the way you'd expect. 

Part of the reason for that is the person. Viv is a killer. Well, was a killer, an ex-mercenary adventurer who got up enough of a nest-egg to retire and do something else with her day. But instead of taverns or more hitting people with sticks, she's decided to do something different, and build a coffee shop. In a town which hasn't heard of coffee. Did I mention she's an orc, a species which make great adventurers due to being enormous and having muscles you could break rocks on, but who are perhaps underrepresented in the coffee sector?

Viv is, in fact, a charming protagonist. She defies our own expectations, as well as those from people around her. Always careful, thoughtful, industrious, Viv is less interested in combatting stereotypes than in reforming herself away from her past. If she has a penchant for wanting to hit someone over the head with a sword hilt when they're being annoying, she rarely ever does. And her interactions with the system around her are similar - when organised crime shows up for a bit of protection money, being seven feet tall with a huge sword is a good opener, but Viv recognises that cutting them all into teeny tiny chunks might not be the best fit for her journey of self-actualisation, so decides to do...something else. Anyway, she's smart and funny and seems thoroughly oblivious to a lot of personal emotional interactions - there's a romantic sub-plot in here that had me covering my head with a pillow at one point. Less "will they won't they" and more "Are they ever going to admit to each other...?" That particular plot point, by the by, is a work of art. Watching two adults figure out that they like each other and what to do about it like adults is (annoyingly) refreshing.

Speaking of which, something Baldree does well is build networks. Viv meets a lot of people, and at least some of them become customers, become friends, become people she'd put her life on the line for. And from that, we can see these friends as people, as something more than single-faceted voices. They're fully realised characters. My only complaint is perhaps that the antagonists are less well rounded, but you know what, sometimes you just have that one guy who's an arsehole and needs a comeuppance. 

This is, really, a fun book. It's telling a clever story that, if it doesn't twist at every turn, definitely has the capacity to surprise. It's telling a story with personal stakes and making them matter. It's a story about someone leaving their life behind and building themselves something better, building themselves into something more like the person they want to be. And it does that with warmth and love and humour that makes it deeply endearing as well as thoroughly entertaining.

Back next week!

 As we inch ever closer to the end of the year, it's been a longer one than usual, for various reasons. With that in mind, we'll be back next week.