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A Feast for SightThis is a short story set in Painter’s world of Osteria. Osteria is a sort of post-apocalyptic setting in which many of the Ancient Greek and Roman traditions and beliefs have been revived.

A Feast for Sight is a story that fits this setting well. It deals with three oracles, who tell their clients the future–for a price. What the price is, I won’t describe, but the sensitive reader should be warned that it is quite macabre; and increasingly so as the story unfolds. I have only a little knowledge of Greek drama, but this seems entirely in line with the usual tone of the classic stories. The Greek tragedies are full of gruesome and unsettling elements, and this story is full of the same.

It’s also rather funny, in a very dark way, obviously. Fans of twisted humor will certainly enjoy the ironic ending. It has a very Ambrose Bierce-esque approach to humor in that regard.

The book is available for free through Painter’s website by subscribing to her newsletter. It certainly is effective as a promotional device, because after reading it, I was quite eager to learn more about the world of Osteria. And as a rule, I am not someone who enjoys stories as dark as this, but I have to give credit where due–the premise is interesting enough that it made me want to read more. A Feast for Sight probably won’t be for everyone, but for those who enjoy classic literature and dark humor, it will be a treat.

 

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Gossamer GlobeThe Gossamer Globe is a very unique book. It has elements of many genres, from political thriller to swashbuckling adventure to biting satire. And the author combines all these in clever ways to make something very original.

The book tells the story of a woman named Lucia Straw, who is being elected as the first Prime Minister of the nation of Zatoria. Zatoria has just abolished monarchy and replaced it with democracy. But as Lucia’s party is celebrating their victory, she receives a message from a rival candidate, Kailani Rhys, accusing her of stealing the election. This casts a pall over everything as Lucia deals with the pains of installing a new parliamentary government.

I love humorous stories about small groups of revolutionaries seizing control of the state. I think it started with my love for Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Grand Duke, a comic opera about a troupe of bumbling actors who take over a grand duchy. The Gossamer Globe has that mood to it–Lucia and her inner-circle all stumble through trying to rule a country, and it’s extremely amusing to read. Before I read it, I saw a couple reviews hinting that it had some funny parts, but that’s an understatement. This book is hilarious, and what’s best of all is that the humor comes organically from the characters’ personalities. Funny lines turn out to not be mere throwaway gags, but jokes that are built upon. I think my favorite example is Lucia’s friend Jevan’s amusing storytelling style.

But it’s not just a silly comedy. It’s also a well-thought-out political satire. I won’t go into too much detail, but the “gossamer globe” the title refers to is a sort of wondrous new technology that has caused major disruption to the Zatorian way of life. This concept is handled very thoughtfully, portraying the new technology as neither an absolute good or evil influence, but simply a technological disruption that the government is only beginning to reckon with.

Ah, the government! That brings me to the core of the book–the struggle for power, the competing philosophies, and all the Machiavellian machinations that drive the plot forward. Lucia chooses to keep the former Queen around in an advisory capacity, and this move proves to be quite controversial. The ex-monarch–now referred to simply as “Ms. Battenbox”–was one of my favorite characters, and the scenes in which she offers her political analysis and shrewd strategizing are absolutely terrific.

All the dialogues are very well-written. I could practically hear the characters speak their lines in my head as I read. It all flowed so well. Also, Evans has a masterful command of how to use profanity. It’s not often, but on the rare occasions when the characters use strong language, it packs a punch.

And then of course, there’s all the sword-fighting.  As the cover suggests, swords are a big deal in this book. I was worried this might come off as a gimmick, but it doesn’t at all. Sword-fighting is clearly a huge part of Zatorian culture, and it makes sense that many disputes are settled this way.

Actually, this is a good time for a word about the cover. It’s not that I dislike it. It’s a fine cover. But it wasn’t the image of the world that I imagined as I was reading the book. It’s probably just my own bias, but I am envisioning this as a steampunk-ish, Neo-Victorian or Edwardian world, and the swords as elegant, rapier-like weapons. I’m not sure what kind of sword that is on the cover, actually; it looks like some sort of falchion or scimitar, maybe? If there are any sword enthusiasts reading this, further information on this point would be appreciated.

However you choose to envision the weaponry and the environs in general, this is a rich, magnificently-constructed world, populated with vivid and enjoyable characters. It’s also an excellent depiction of how politics works at the highest levels. There’s a point where one character is descending into frenzied paranoia, issuing ridiculous commands as the whole structure of the government seems to be collapsing. It feels timeless, like a satire that could have been written about any bad government in history, going back to the time of Rome. It’s the same vibe I get when reading George Orwell’s writings on totalitarianism–this is a pattern of behavior that transcends time and place.

Evans manages all this while still telling a fast-paced, funny, sexy, bawdy, and clever story, in a rich and interesting world. Simply put, I loved this book, and I heartily recommend it to anyone who enjoys speculative fiction of any variety. It’s brilliant, and best of all, it’s free. That’s right, you can get it through Amazon or on Smashwords for free. There’s absolutely no excuse. Give this brilliant novel a try.

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Sarah LewisThis is listed as a children’s book, which is not something I’d normally read, but this bit of the description caught my eye: “rural sci-fi thriller full of spies, mad scientists, 1980s nostalgia, alternate dimensions, strange new friends, suspense, and mystery.”

Well, that sounded like something I would like. And I was not disappointed. Yes, the protagonist is indeed a kid–13 year-old Sarah Lewis–and the prose does avoid complicated structures and (for the most part) big words, but it’s a book anyone can enjoy. It doesn’t condescend to the reader in telling the story.

Sarah is living with her grandfather after her mother has died and her father has moved away to take a job in another country. She is lonely, and trying to acclimate to a new town and new school in rural Texas, when her curiosity leads her to exploring in the hills near her grandfather’s property.

Long story short, she stumbles into a web of ancient conspiracies, secret societies, aliens, talking animals, magic, and threats of cosmic annihilation from malevolent demonic entities. Imagine The Chronicles of Narnia crossed with The X-Files and maybe a bit of Dan Brown thrown in. It uses a number of the classic YA tropes–a child with no parents discovering her family’s secrets and having to reevaluate her place in the world. Sarah isn’t quite “the Chosen One,” thankfully, but she does turn out to be rather special for reasons which I won’t reveal here. Still, it was quite a fun read for me; and never became boring or predictable.

Before I read the book, I wondered whether it would be too childish for an adult to read. Having read the book, I wonder if it’s too adult-ish for a child to read. It’s touted as “clean,” meaning there’s no swearing or sex, but there is plenty of fighting, references to cancer and dying from it, and strong implications that the villains torture and ritualistically sacrifice people to appease an evil deity. Also, several characters die, including some rather sympathetic ones.

Of course, there are plenty of examples throughout children’s literature of things just as or more disturbing than that. (The classic fairy tales are pretty unsettling, when you think about them.) But everyone has their own ideas of what kids should and shouldn’t read, so it’s important to note that this book was darker than I expected. Not that I minded, and thinking back, I suspect my 10-12 year-old self wouldn’t have minded, either.

While the major conflict of the story is resolved, the book ends on a major cliffhanger to set up the sequel. A sequel which, as far as I can tell, has not been published yet. Certainly, I am eager to see how this story develops–there is a lot of potential in the world that the author has created.

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Moon Goddess 2Moon Goddess is about a young woman named Lamorna who is forced to flee her home with her infant brother, pursued by the soldiers of the lord who holds sway in the region.

With the guidance of a mysterious wise woman, Lamorna is aided by spirits and manifestations of an ancient goddess, whose followers and rituals differ greatly from the harsh patriarchal religion of her upbringing.

This book is steeped in mythological elements. As Spicer documents on her blog, she put intense research into this, from the world in which the story takes place to the wolves to the legends. Moon Goddess is rich with folklore references and fragments of old religions.

This is important, because for the most part, the description of the world in which the story takes place is minimal. As with Spicer’s The Cursed Gift, the focus is on the characters and what they say and do, with little excess verbiage about the setting. This is probably controversial, but personally, I love this about Spicer’s work. It reminds me of what Paul Graham said about Jane Austen: “She tells her story so well that you envision the scene for yourself.”

I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a world this rich made with so little description, but I was very impressed by it. The only point where it was an issue for me (and I realize this won’t make sense until you read the book) was that I would have liked to have read more about the Wild Horde, which has a relatively small, but important role in the story. It’s such a cool concept; I’d have liked to know more.

One other nit-pick: while most of the book was from Lamorna’s point of view in close third person, there were a few chapters told from her fiancé’s perspective, in the same style. There’s nothing wrong with this, except it came relatively late in the story, and felt a little jarring, since it is clearly Lamorna’s story.

That’s a minor point, however. All in all, I really liked Moon Goddess–it’s fantasy, but with sufficient grounding in folklore that it felt authentic. It’s mystical and mysterious, but without its characters ever being totally overwhelmed by the supernatural elements.

Moon Goddess1

Also, there have been two different covers of this book, and they are both great. The current one is pictured above, but I had to include this one as well.

I like the current cover, especially because all of Spicer’s book covers follow a certain pattern that makes them look like a true collection. That said, this earlier cover also has its charms. So vivid and evocative!

Whichever cover you prefer, though, this is a great read for fans of fantasy stories with strong mythological elements.

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Testing the WatersThis story is a mystery; but not in the typical “whodunnit” genre; rather, it’s a mystery of what is happening in the little town of Port Athens. It’s a fishing town, and one of the fishermen, Eli P. Marin, has come back with a trident, which sets all the town on edge.

Soon, everyone in the town–all of whom have their own private interests, scandals, and skeletons in their closets, are gossiping about it. Eventually, Marin makes his announcement, and it is met with a grave response.

The writing is crisp, and I love the way the relationships between the townsfolk are portrayed. It’s even more fun once you figure you out what’s really going on. I’ll give you a hint: the characters’ names matter a great deal in this story, so pay attention to that. At first, I wondered why they all followed a certain pattern–and once I figured it out, I shook my head in amusement for not catching on sooner. It’s really neat.

Hmm, what else can I say about this story that won’t give it away? Not much, unfortunately. Maybe this: it made me think of Lovecraft’s The Shadow Over Innsmouth meets Gilbert and Sullivan’s Thespis. That’s actually a huge spoiler, but I’m gambling that it’s so obscure you’ll quickly realize it’s fastest to just read the book to figure out what I mean. And you should read this book, because it’s a quick, easy read that’s also a lot of fun.

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HyperlinkThis book…

This book…

I mean to say, folks: this book!

Sorry, I’m having a bit of trouble getting started. Where exactly to begin is not obvious here. Normally I give a book’s genre, and then maybe an outline of the plot.

What genre is Hyperlink from Hell? I have no idea.

The story begins with a psychiatrist named Dr. Stapledon being given a manuscript to read, care of Dr. Albert Montclair, the former director of “The Haven”– the mental institution where she works. Montclair is now himself a patient, and the manuscript is by James “Jimmie” Canning, a now-missing former patient of Montclair’s.

Jimmie was a reality TV star with good looks, a photographic memory, and attention-deficit disorder. He is also believed to be the only patient ever to have escaped The Haven.

The only way of understanding what afflicts Dr. Montclair, he tells Dr. Stapledon, is to read Jimmie’s manuscript. “To get to me,” he tells her, “you must go through him.” Desperate to help her former mentor, Dr. Stapledon begins to read.

This book-within-the-book is indescribable. A surreal, impossible tale that begins with Jimmie’s apparent death at the hands of kidnappers, and his return to Earth as a ghostly presence, along with the kidnappers, with whom he embarks on a quest to reconcile with his ex-girlfriend, Jenny.

If that sounds weird, just wait. What follows is a madcap chase to track down Rick, the man who has stolen Jenny away from Jimmie. But that hardly does it justice. There are wacky dream sequences and mile-a-minute references to characters from famous old television shows (Referenced with amusing variations on the names: “Logan’s Heroes,” “Battleship Galaxtica,” “Milligan’s Island,” and so on.) 

Have you ever been sick with a fever, done nothing but sit around watching TV, and then fallen asleep? This is like the dreams you have when that happens. 

There are also tons of puns, sex humor, bathroom humor, and recurring conversations with “Al”—a godlike presence who toys with Jimmie and his friends while simultaneously aiding them on their quest. Oh, and there’s also an invisible, smelly dog named Louie.

Lowbrow, crude humor rarely amuses me. Jokes relating to bodily functions are usually just stupid, in my opinion. But it works for me here. It’s a mixture of crude and sophisticated comedy, similar to Monty Python. That makes it… ah, well I hate to say “palatable,” but you see what I mean.

This book is very funny. But I would not classify it as a comedy; not at all. Jimmie’s manuscript might be a comedy—a very dark, absurd, existential comedy—but remember, it’s just the book-within-the-book. Dr. Stapledon’s experience of what for lack of a better term I’ll call the “real world” is the other part of the story. And it’s not a comedy at all.

Don’t let the cover or the fact that it has tons of humor fool you: this book is not light. It goes from weird to unsettling to downright disturbing—all the more so because the darkest elements are referenced subtly at first, almost in passing, gradually setting up the conclusion when we finally learn what went down at The Haven.

I have trouble with stories that involve violence against women, children, or animals. All three are referenced in this book. Not too graphically, or for extended periods, mind you, but when these and other grim things enter the narrative, they hit you right in the gut.

Okay, so this has violence and crude humor and an incredibly confusing plot. Anything else that might alienate readers? Actually, yes: thematically, the book addresses religion frequently—it might even be the core of the story. I wouldn’t say it’s anti-religion. In fact, it might even be pro-religion, in the sense that it’s pro-faith. But nevertheless, the way the “God” figure is portrayed and certain religious motifs are used might be a turn-off to religious readers.

Oh, and of course there’s swearing. Did I even need to mention that?

Normally, this is where I say something like, “fans of [x] will like this.” I can’t say that here, because I honestly have no idea what other books to compare this to. Other reviews compare it to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, but having not read them, I don’t know how or in what way this book may be similar. The only remotely comparable book I’ve read is Richard Pastore’s The Devil and the Wolf. It was a hilarious fantasy with religious themes as well, but what makes Hyperlink different is the frenzied, sometimes almost physically exhausting pace of its weirdness.  

The closest analogue I could think of was not a book at all, but a video game: Spec Ops: The Line. I realize that sounds bizarre—how can I compare this humorous mystery novel to a military action game? Well, that’s just it: neither Spec Ops nor Hyperlink from Hell are really what they seem to be. Just as Spec Ops surprises the player by revealing that, far from being a standard military shoot-‘em-up, it’s a complex and layered examination of the psychological toll of violence, Hyperlink from Hell ultimately reveals itself to be not simply a madcap comic adventure, but a meditation on grief and coping and God and the nature of reality itself.

This book lives up to its billing as an “in(s)ane mystery” and then some. I’ve read parts of it multiple times, and there are still things that puzzle me. I discovered it thanks to Lorinda J. Taylor’s review, which I strongly suggest you read, because she does a better job analyzing certain elements than I did. 

I think everyone should buy this book and give it a try. I say that fully aware that some of you will hate it. I know I sometimes say, “This isn’t for everybody,” but that’s extra-true here. Some of you will be turned off by the crude humor. Some of you will just be like, “What the hell even is this? What does Gambrel see in this thing?” Some will make it all the way to the end and feel a bit angry, just as I did, that things didn’t resolve themselves in the way we would hope they would.

But the thing is, this book is an incredible achievement. I can’t imagine how someone could come up with and execute this idea so perfectly, and yet Moone did it. Creative people owe it to one another to be supportive, and for that reason alone, you should at least give it a try. If it seems too weird for you at first, you should probably stop, because it won’t get less weird. But if you get hooked on the ingenuity of the concept and the witty prose, as I was, you’ll feel like you’ve discovered a hidden treasure.

You know how so many forms of entertainment seem to suffer from severe copycat syndrome? That’s because the publishing industry, like many industries, tends to play it very conservative with what they decide to send to the market. Great work is rejected all the time because publishers can’t just ask Is this a good book? but instead have to ask Will it sell enough to make us a profit? And so they’re more likely to only publish books that are similar to other books that have made a profit before.

Indie publishing is changing this, but only to the extent we’re willing to reward people who take big creative risks, and Hyperlink from Hell is about as big of a creative risk as there is. The imagination and effort it must have taken to create this book is simply staggering to contemplate, and the fact that it only has eleven reviews on Amazon (all glowing, you’ll notice) is a tragedy. Yes, it’s a twisted and surreal roller-coaster that not everyone will want to take, and from which no one will emerge emotionally unscathed, but it’s also a literary masterpiece and a daring work of creative genius—yes, I said it—that deserves to be widely read and discussed.

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Assassin's HeartAssassin’s Heart is a romance in a medieval fantasy setting. The protagonist, Lillie, is a woman raised from a young age to be a ruthless assassin by an organization known as the Va’Shile. When we meet her, she is undercover as a palace servant, and all the court is awaiting the naming of King’s heir—whom the Va’Shile have assigned Lillie to kill once his identity is known.

While gaining the trust of servants in order to move freely about the castle, Lillie meets a handsome young stablehand named Nef, and the two soon fall in love. Despite her brutal upbringing, Lillie finds herself increasingly distracted by her new beau, as well as questions surrounding her past that nag at her mind—questions relating to her mysterious ability to communicate telepathically with animals, which troubles even the brave and handsome Nef.

The wheels of political machinations continue to turn. Complications ensue. Soon enough, Lillie and Nef find themselves fleeing the Va’Shile and hiding out at a brothel managed by a woman named Brava. But even as their relationship deepens, Lillie and Nef are increasingly drawn into a conflict with the Va’Shile which can only be ended with a lot of death.

Assassin’s Heart is first and foremost a romance. Once we get about a quarter of the way in, it seems Lillie and Nef are sneaking off every chance they get to fulfill their, ah, romantic desires. (Sometimes their romantic desires need fulfillment 3 or 4 times a day!) And they aren’t the only ones constantly running off to the bedroom, either; there are several other romantic sub-plots as well.

But Norse does a good job of balancing the sexy interludes with character development and plot twists. The story never grinds to a halt. Other things may grind to something, but never mind that now! 

There isn’t a lot of description of the world in which the story takes place. Most of the descriptive passages are, as you might expect, about the physical attributes of the cast. Lillie and her red hair, Nef and his blue eyes, Master Jaidon and his… well, I don’t want to spoil everything!

All right, I’ll stop with the Nudge Nudge Wink Wink routine. There’s a lot of sex in this book, that’s my point. But there’s still a good story and a few other things that even those, like me, who don’t regularly read romance can find interesting.

For example, there’s a scene where Lillie is relishing finally being free from the confines of the Assassin’s Guild where she spent most of her childhood, and gets up in the middle of the night to dance in the moonlit corridors of the castle, with only statues and suits of armor for an audience. It’s very Gothic. Beautiful, but also slightly eerie, and Romantic in the artistic sense of the word, with a focus on creating a feeling rather than plot advancement. I liked it a lot.

Some of the reviews on Amazon—which are otherwise positive—bring up the issue that the characters often speak in very modern language. I admit, at first I noticed this and found it jarring. But as I kept reading, my attitude about it changed a little—because the story isn’t set in a specific time period, but just an unknown medieval-ish place, the modern phrases actually gave it a more distinct “flavor.” So, I guess it was jarring, but kind of in a good way, maybe? All told, I couldn’t make up my mind whether I liked this or not, but it certainly didn’t ruin the book for me.

Also, I really liked the character of Brava. I usually find prostitutes and brothels in fiction to be pretty tiresome—largely because there are so many works of fiction where I swear it feels like the entire economy is prostitution-based. But Brava worked as a character for me—her no-nonsense attitude, coupled with her dirty sense of humor, was very amusing.

This is an enjoyable romantic fantasy tale with enough non-romance plot that it will appeal to non-romance readers as well.

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CGThe Cursed Gift is a fantasy novel about a young woman named Leah, a warrior in training and daughter of the King of in a place called Orenheart. Leah’s day-to-day life of combat drills, horseback riding and the drama of being young and in love is disrupted after brigands attack her family, and a mysterious figure named Shalyer appears to threaten the kingdom.

Shalyer is an unfortunate soul, whose tragic past leads him to make a deal with a sinister supernatural beings, the leader of whom is known as Belosh. Belosh is a demon lord who toys with the fates of mortals, chiefly through granting them the power of magic, which the gods have long forbidden them. Belosh drives Shalyer and Leah into conflict, ultimately leading them into a showdown.

As Leah tries to resist the temptation of the dark powers the Demon Lord has granted her, the kingdom increasingly becomes threatened by brigand gangs. Meanwhile, the youthful romances, indiscretions and heartbreaks among Leah’s fellows begin to cripple them, leading to misunderstandings, fights, and worse.

Eventually, Belosh creates a situation where Leah is forced to choose between saving her family or resisting the allure of giving herself fully to the Demon lord. There are more brigand attacks, an extremely memorable funeral scene for a fallen warrior, and, of course, a dramatic final confrontation.

While high fantasy is not a genre I read often, I enjoyed this story and the world in which it is set. One thing that really stood out to me was the description—or more accurately, the lack thereof. Fantasy (like Science Fiction) usually requires a good deal of background and world-building, which means lots of description. But that’s not the case here—there was very little, and that was fine with me. I was impressed at how easily I could visualize things without having to have it all spelled out. It made the book an easy, accessible read. 

I admit this might not be to everyone’s tastes—my rocky relationship with description in fiction is well-known, and perhaps other readers will wish for more detail about Orenheart, Kurabar, and other locales in the tale.

Personally, what I wanted more of was detail about some of the supporting cast. Leah is a strong character, but so are many of the others, especially Shalyer, and I would have liked to know more about them. Also, there is one sub-plot involving King Edmon which never seems fully resolved. (It’s not that it’s unclear—we readers know the whole story, but some of the relevant characters don’t, and it seemed to me like something that would need to be discussed.)

Still, it’s clearly meant to be Leah’s story that’s being told here, and in that regard Spicer definitely succeeded. While preparing this review, I came across this post on Spicer’s blog in which she discusses her process in writing The Cursed Gift. She wanted to write a fantasy that didn’t feel overlong or dragged-out the way so many of them do, and that’s exactly what she did.  It’s a tight, well-paced tale that doesn’t bog the reader down with minutiae. I definitely recommend it to anyone who enjoys fantasy or adventure novels.

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TheRavenThis is a collection of ten short stories, many of which are inspired by myths, fairy-tales, folk-lore and poetry. Sort of like Angela Carter’s retellings of well-known stories, Spicer cleverly re-invents these classic tales, telling them in a new way or from a new perspective. All the stories are enjoyable and interesting. My favorites were the poignant “Stranger at the Crossroads,” and the delightful “An Unlikely Friendship.” 

Because these are short stories, I don’t want to discuss them in detail because it may give too much away. Lydia Schoch’s review discusses the two tales I have mentioned above, and she’s much better at reviewing without spoiling than I am. I encourage reading her review—it was what first brought this book to my attention, and I’m glad, because it’s a very enjoyable read, especially for the autumn and winter months. If you enjoy subtle horror, fantasy or paranormal stories, this book is for you.

After reading this collection, I was eager to read more of Spicer’s work. And I also started reading her blog, which is a real delight—check it out; she has written tons of excellent posts on a wide variety of topics, including various writerly matters and book reviews. 

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patchwork warriorsI don’t read a lot of epic fantasy. But when Audrey Driscoll recommends a book, I pay attention, regardless of genre.

Of Patchwork Warriors begins with a glossary of terms used in the world of the novel, which is called the Oakhostian Empire. These include amusing words like “kerfluffeg” and “blimping,” a mild obscenity, as well as terms like “Stommigheid,” which is a peculiar sort of ether—indeed, sometimes called “the Ethereal”—which is not entirely understood. It’s something like the Force in Star Wars, but it has a Lovecraftian element as well, in the sense that messing with it can summon unspeakable monsters from beyond the known world.

Naturally, a villain by the name of Lord Ragithyl is trying to do exactly this, and so creates a ripple effect across the empire, catching the attentions of Meradat, one of the Custodians, (a sort of religious order) the LifeGuard, (the army) as well as merchants, mercenaries, and an eccentric young woman named Karlyn, who has a nose for evil spirits related to Stommigheid—or, in her colorful dialect, “storm-higgle.”

Karlyn and Meradat travel together, and eventually meet a LifeGuard named Arketre Berritt, a medician. Karlyn and Berritt gradually become friends, as their adventures lead them to a port town under attack. In this attack, they meet a woman named Trelli, who has unwillingly gained mysterious magical Stommigheid powers which among other things, make her hands glow red and blue. The three women are gradually drawn into discovering and combating the wicked Lord Ragithyl’s plot, as well as political jockeying from various factions of the empire.

It’s a strange tale Llewellyn weaves, with lots of different threads to it, but the heart of the book—and for me, the best part—is the banter between the three main characters. Berritt (Or “Flaxi,” as Karlyn calls her) is very likable, Trelli’s down-to-earth, good-natured personality is relatable, and Karlyn… well, Karlyn is almost indescribable. From her obsession with fire, to her keen sense of smell, to her bizarre jargon, she’s a unique character. Sometimes she was annoying, but she was supposed to be, and like Trelli and Berritt, I grew to like her in spite of it all.

The book ends on a satisfying note, but still leaves a lot to be explored in the sequel. It’s actually supposed to be a four-part series, I believe.

The language in this book is very clever, and Karlyn is only the most obvious example. As Audrey mentioned in her review, some of the invented swear words are quite addictive. I applaud Llewellyn for that. 

The big flaw is the familiar trouble with most indie books: typos. I felt they were more numerous here than in the average indie, although that may be an illusion simply because this book, as befits an epic fantasy, is longer than average. And because of Llewellyn’s creativity with the language, it sometimes makes it difficult to follow some passages. The typos seemed heaviest in the middle of the book—the beginning and end were smoother.

Beyond that, there were times when it was confusing as to what was happening, and some of the concepts relating to the Stommigheid were so abstract, it was tough to visualize. One thing that I would have found helpful would be the inclusion of a map of the world at the beginning. I know the Oakhostian Empire is based on Europe, but that wasn’t enough for me to get situated. Certain groups were similar to European nations, but that still didn’t give me a good idea of where things were relative to one another.

But despite these flaws, Llewellyn obviously put a lot of time into building this world. More than any novel, it reminded me of the famous fantasy RPGs of yore: Planescape: Torment, Baldur’s Gate, Neverwinter Nights, Pillars of Eternity and so on. Even the lead trio fits into the mold of classic RPG archetypes: Berritt is a healer/soldier, Karlyn is a quintessential rogue, and Trelli is a mage. 

In fact, as I think about it, I really want to play an RPG set in this world. Chris Avellone or Josh Sawyer ought to see if Llewellyn will be willing to license a game adaptation.

I originally was going to end my review there, adding only that I’ve already started Volume 2, Our Skirmishers of Lace, Steel, and Fire, and then link to Llewellyn’s blog.

But, alas! The blog no longer exists. In fact, going to the post where Audrey originally re-blogged the news about the launch of Volume 2, which was how I discovered the series, I find all that’s there now is Audrey’s text—Llewellyn’s post is gone, along with the rest of his blog.

It bothers me when a blog vanishes. I don’t like to be nosy, and no blogger is obligated to keep their work around if they do not want to. But all the same, it makes me uneasy when years’ worth of writing just vanishes. It disturbs both the blogger and the historian in me. I only read a few posts of Llewellyn’s, but I enjoyed those that I did, and had been planning to read more about his process once I finished the first volume.

In retrospect, perhaps Llewellyn’s conception of the Stommigheid is not so abstract after all; for we blogger-folk are met upon an equally precarious and mysterious plane of existence.

But enough! If you like epic fantasy, consider giving Of Patchwork Warriors a try. After all, I don’t like epic fantasy, and even I thought it was fun, in spite of its flaws.