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I heard about this book thanks to Carrie Rubin, and it sounded like something I would enjoy. It has conspiracies, high-tech gadgetry, and exciting action sequences.

Journalist Ellie McLane is investigating genetically modified Olympic athletes. But when she learns that a mysterious group has cloned the President of the United States, she moves to get the scoop before anyone else.

What follows is a complex plot, as McLane and the FBI race to find out what connection there is between the president’s clone and bio-terrorists who are using genetically modified cancer cells to infect prominent politicians. Naturally, there are plenty of car chases and shootouts, not to mention corporate espionage, murder, and political conflicts.

I enjoyed the story very much. It reminded me of Geoffrey Cooper’s books, with maybe a bit more of a Tom Clancy-ish military element. My only complaint is that the ending felt a bit abrupt, but I see that it is the first book in a series, so perhaps many of the questions raised at the end will be addressed in the sequel.

The downside of reviewing thrillers is that spoilers are a real killer, so I can’t say too much more about what happens. This is pretty much the maximum amount I can reveal without spoiling it. So if this description strikes your fancy, give it a try.

Yet, I feel that you, my loyal reader, deserve some bonus content. So, for fun, I decided to run this post through WordPress’s AI assistant feature.

The AI assistant recommended I retitle the post: “Genetically Modified Bio-Terror: A Thrilling Race Against Time”. Eh, it’s okay, I guess, but I’ll stick with my standard format.

Next, I asked the AI assistant for feedback on the body of the review:

The content delved into the plot and the reviewer’s enjoyment of the book. The reviewer expressed a positive overall sentiment and mentioned a minor issue with the ending feeling abrupt. It was noted that spoilers couldn’t be shared, limiting the amount of detail that could be provided. Lastly, the reviewer mentioned adding bonus content for the readers and responded to a suggestion from a WordPress AI assistant.

Considering the feedback, actions to consider are:

1. Discuss the abrupt ending in more detail without revealing spoilers.

2. Add more specific details about what made the book enjoyable without giving away the plot.

3. Explore the bonus content in more depth to engage readers further.

When I was a kid, my friend had a toy called a “Bop It!” It was basically like a Simon Says game that commanded you to do various things. If you were unsuccessful, it would say, “Do it again, but, uh… better.” That’s kind of what this feels like.

The AI can also generate an image to go with the post based on the text. I tried this a couple times, and I have to say, the pictures are not bad. But I’m not posting them because I want the image associated with the post to be this book cover.

Well, that was certainly illuminating. Soon, we will achieve the ultimate dream of machines reviewing and creating art, freeing humans up to do manual labor or else just be directly converted into energy.

In the meantime, though, I hope you enjoy Fear Extinction!

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I love vigilante stories. I’m always down to read about a jaded person who, disgusted by the failure of social institutions to punish wrongdoers, takes the law into their own hands to seek retribution. You see this theme a lot in westerns and police stories, but one with a medical theme? Now, that’s something new!

Dr. Hope Sullivan is just one such jaded person, and her method of exacting justice is to kidnap the lowlifes she finds in the world, take them to a remote and secluded shed, and subject them to the same pains they have inflicted on others. “Her object all sublime, she will achieve in time…” Not that she kills them, to be clear. She just… teaches them a lesson, that’s all.

But one day, she gets a threatening message. Someone is stalking her, seeking revenge of their own against her for some perceived wrong. And this person has stumbled on to Hope’s extra-judicial activities. Oh, all right, I’ll just go ahead and call them what they are: torture sessions. Something which the medical board would probably not look kindly upon, and while Hope has suffered from suicidal thoughts ever since the recent deaths of her parents and fiancé, her reputation as a doctor is the one thing in the world that still keeps her going.

In other words, this book is rather dark, in case you couldn’t tell from the cover. It makes Fatal Rounds, Rubin’s most recent thriller, look like an after-school special. But it is similar to Fatal Rounds in the sense that the protagonists, while sympathetic, are also very well aware of what happens when you gaze long into the abyss. Actually, Hope and the abyss do more than just gaze into each other; they’re so well-acquainted they practically give each other high-fives every morning.

I’m writing this review shortly after editing a forthcoming Writers Supporting Writers chat where we discuss whether it’s necessary for characters to suffer. Well, of course, it depends on the type of story being told. But this is definitely the kind where there has to be a lot of suffering. I think it’s the most violent book I’ve read since Peter Martuneac’s His Name Was Zach series. And there is no doubt that every bit of it is key to Broken Hope‘s mood. It’s about capturing anger, depression, resentment and revenge; feelings which all of us must have at one time or another. Obviously, Hope’s reaction is rather extreme… but then, that’s what makes for compelling fiction, isn’t it?

Broken Hope goes to some dark places, but that darkness is also what makes it such a gripping story. Highly recommended for fans of psychological thrillers.

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This book has an ideal premise for a military sci-fi adventure: a hotheaded and impulsive cyber racer named Ryan Fall runs afoul of the law. But, his talent for high-speed maneuvering leads the government to offer him a choice: serve in an advanced combat mech program, to fight against an alien invasion force.

With little choice, and his own adrenaline addiction and competitive nature driving him, Ryan accepts, and is soon mustered into military training. Naturally, his “rebel without a clue” attitude leads him into plenty of clashes with the authorities. But then, that’s partially why they wanted him: as an outsider, he’s willing to think outside the box, and challenge their assumptions. And that is something desperately needed against the inscrutable alien enemy that is threatening to attack.

I imagine any MilSciFi fan will need no further convincing to pick this up. But, just in case…

There are plenty of exciting action sequences in this book, from the early racing scenes to the huge mech battle in the final sequence. On that basis alone, the book certainly earns its military sci-fi name. But what really makes the book are its characters, especially the supporting cast. I confess that Ryan himself was not my favorite; I tend not to like characters who are reflexively disobedient. But, Ryan has his reasons. More on that shortly.

The characters I really did like were Ryan’s immediate superior, the distant Captain Eleanor Ryder, whose icy demeanor masks a past trauma and a desire for revenge. I also loved General Matthews, the stern but fair officer who takes the burden of leadership seriously, but never loses a fundamental affection for those under his command. Both of these characters were great, and I enjoyed all of their scenes. Especially when Matthews is holding forth on the burden of responsibility and being accountable for one’s actions.

Which brings me back to Ryan’s devil-may-care behavior. There’s a reason he acts like he does, and it’s so he can learn and grow over the course of the story. Since military sci-fi adventures are likely to be read by the same demographic as Ryan is in–thrill-seeking young people–there is a message in this story that’s important for folks in that group to learn. Not that most of them will, any more than does Ryan, who, no matter how many times he is told something, doesn’t learn it until he has to experience it for himself. Still, it’s commendable of the author to try.

This is exactly the kind of thing I like in military science-fiction: well-crafted action scenes with deeper themes woven into the story. Highly recommended to fans of the genre.

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I wasn’t sure what to expect from this book. Obviously, from the cover, I could see it was sci-fi, but what kind of sci-fi was it?

As it turns out, it’s a mystery story. Private investigator McCall Richter is hired to find a huge cache of stolen valuables. The valuables in this case being tons of maple syrup. I love the idea of maple syrup as a precious commodity.

Richter gets help solving the mystery from her android assistant, Scipio. Scipio has a logical mind and a taste for fine clothing. His general helpfulness coupled with an ever-so-slightly stuck-up personality reminded me a little of the droid in the old Star Wars: Galaxy of Fear books I used to read as a kid. I enjoyed the relationship between these two characters, and I really liked reading a mystery story that isn’t about solving a murder, but something more original.

Richter and Scipio’s investigation turns up another fun character: a wounded dog named “Junkyard” who is abandoned in a… well, you can probably guess. Junkyard’s canine desire to chew on things does not mesh well with Scipio’s love of fancy clothing. But they work it all out eventually.

Of course, there’s still a mystery to be solved, and after a few twists, it all gets sorted. I don’t want to say much more about the plot because, well, with novella-length mysteries, saying even a little can give too much away. But I certainly enjoyed the ride.

This book serves as an intro to a larger story featuring Richter, Scipio, and Junkyard, and it certainly did get me interested in reading more about the characters. The writing style is fun, fast-paced, and witty; making this perfect quick reading for fans of sci-fi and mysteries alike.

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I am not quite sure when I became convinced that Zachary Shatzer is a genius. Certainly, once I read The Beach Wizard, I knew I was reading the work of one of the great comic novelists of our time. But maybe I knew it even before that; it’s hard to remember exactly. In any case, a genius he is, and that is why I was delighted to pick up his latest novella, Dog Wearing a Bowler Hat.

The story is a straightforward one: a young man named Wilkins goes to his social club one day to find a new artwork added to the club’s decor: a painting of a dog wearing a bowler hat. Wilkins is largely indifferent to the piece, but his friends at the club have strong feelings about it. Some think it’s a masterpiece, others despise it.

Wilkins thinks little of it at first, until differences of opinion begin to tear the club apart. Friendships are ended by disagreements about the hat-wearing dog. The division ramps up further and further, escalating into a conflict that seems unimaginable, forcing poor Wilkins, with his lack of any strong feelings on the matter whatsoever, into making increasingly difficult choices.

So, that’s the story in a nutshell. Seems simple enough, right?

Heh, well, you probably know whenever I say that, I’m about to launch into one of my rambling disquisitions. Admit it, deep down in places that you don’t talk about at parties, you want me doing this sort of thing.

Mark Paxson and I have observed there’s this pattern of book hype where, (for example) Stephen King will have a new book coming out and early reviews will say, “It’s Stephen King like you’ve never seen him before!” Then, one reads the book, and finds that it is, in fact, Stephen King almost exactly as you have always seen him. Which is not a criticism of King. After all, most people buy a book by Stephen King expecting to get a Stephen King book. No; it’s just a criticism of critics, who build a book up to be something it’s not.

All of which is to say I hesitated before saying, “This is Zachary Shatzer like you’ve never seen him before!” Was I doing the very thing of which I accuse others, and describing it as something it isn’t?

It is a very funny book, to be sure, but then all Shatzer’s books are funny. That alone isn’t enough to say it is breaking new ground for him. It is also insightful, but The Beach Wizard and The Hero and the Tyrant are insightful too. That’s not what’s novel in this novella.

I finally decided that why I think this book is something different than that to which we Shatzer-heads have heretofore become accustomed: it has an allegorical quality, almost like a fable, that is not found in his other works.

Now, there is nothing I would hate more than becoming one of those people who sees symbolism everywhere. Figuring out what the green light across the bay stands for is just not my thing. And I’m not suggesting that this story must be read allegorically, or that Shatzer necessarily intended for it to be. To paraphrase Hemingway’s take on The Old Man and the Sea: “The dog is a dog. The bowler hat is a bowler hat.”

But, it is the way it is presented, the way this trivial and even absurd picture drives people into a kind of madness, that has something to say about politics, about culture, and–yes, I’ll even go there–about human nature itself.

I spend my free time as an amateur critic on the internet. I’ve seen takes you people wouldn’t believe. To this day, there are arguments on Twitter about a sci-fi movie that came out almost seven years ago and whether it is a moving and transcendent work of cinematic genius or a loathsome travesty that defames all that is noble and good in the world. As I feel about this movie pretty much like Wilkins feels about the painting, I can certainly relate to him.

Over and over, this pattern is repeated; of people fighting over things that are, at bottom, unimportant and silly. It is my fervent hope that the words “Dog with a Bowler Hat” may become a byword, a meme, which signifies when something has inspired more passion that it deserves. Shatzer’s accomplishments are many, but here may be his most amazing feat yet: he has coined a phrase which can be used to stop pointless arguments before they begin, an anti-polarization pill gilded with his usual whimsical wit.

But for it to work, of course, people need to read the book. And that, my friend, is where you come in. I know I’m constantly ordering you to read books, and I suppose you get tired of it. It must feel like I do everything but shove the books in front of you, saying “it’ll change your life, I swear,” like Natalie Portman in Garden State. But I really mean it; this one is something special. Do yourself a favor and read it.

UPDATE: the book is free on Kindle today, 4/19. All the more reason to get it!

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Why, you ask, am I reviewing a winter-themed book in early Spring? Well, first of all, I live in Ohio, where seasons are a fluid thing. Two days ago, it was in the 70s with tornado watches. Today it was sleeting with a freeze watch. Winter and spring are as one here in the Buckeye state.

Second, this is a story I read a while ago, but for some reason I didn’t review it at the time. I forget why. But, better late than never.

Our narrator is one Whittaker Snow, a girl who loves winter and everything that comes with it. Actually, many of the characters in the story have names that correlate with their natures. This is something that our cold-loving protagonist comments on frequently. Whittaker has grand and romantic visions for her future, like any good high schooler. And, also like any good high schooler, she needs to learn to deal with disappointment when reality doesn’t match her dreams.

In addition to the arc of her story–which is short and sweet–the tale is punctuated with “fun facts” about wintertime. Like many another Bertocci tale, although the book is brief, it covers a lot of interesting territory and ideas. Bertocci has a gift for taking a simple, even mundane concept, and infusing with interesting philosophy and cleverly constructed wordplay.

Much of the other kind words I have for this book are the same things I’ve praised in other works of Bertocci’s. He is a genre unto himself, and his books deserve to be widely read.

As for me, I’m off to get ready for the solar eclipse–if we don’t get a snow storm first.

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I heard about this book from Lydia Schoch’s review and I knew right away that I had to read it. Originally, I thought I would wait until Halloween season to review it, but then I thought, “Zis is Ruined Chapel! It is alvays Halloween here!” And besides, it’s such a delightful book, I couldn’t wait to share it with you all.

It tells the story of a ghost named Lazarus Bently, who is helping an amateur ghost out with a difficult assignment: haunting a woman named Maisie. Maisie’s artistic temperament makes her immune or oblivious to most of the standard tropes associated with hauntings: objects being hurled through the air, threatening messages on the walls etc. have no effect on her. What is a ghost to do?

Since this is a short story, I can’t say too much about how it all develops, or I’d risk giving it away. But, I can say that the author packs a lot of humor and clever ideas into a very short space. It’s like a supernatural version of “The Odd Couple,” with plenty of witty lines. I especially liked the idea that the ghosts feed off of fear, and when they need a quick hit, they drop in on people who are watching the news.

You might be saying, “But it’s only 18 pages long! Can it really be worth it?” Comes the reply: yes, it can. I read it in one evening and found myself chuckling the whole time. Sure, it’s a short read, but every minute spent reading it is fun, and that’s what matters.

Ghosted is a perfect fun supernatural story to read when you want a good laugh. As usual, Lydia is right on the money!

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This book is the sequel to Litka’s seafaring adventure tale Sailing to Redoubt. It picks up with Lt. Taef Lang working at his family shop, trying his best to keep the business going while his parents are traveling, when his old friend Sella Raah appears

In short order, Taef finds himself once again involved with Sella and her sister, Lessie. The polite, humble young officer begins breaking rules and taking chances in order to help out the impulsive sisters. His task is to spring Lessie from enforced confinement on the island of Cimlye.

Now, if you read the first book, you might remember that Lessie was not very friendly to Lt. Lang, despite all the help he gave her. Cold and aloof she was, unlike her more outgoing sister.

I have to admit, I didn’t like Lessie much in Sailing to Redoubt. Frankly, I thought the way she treated the likable Lang was quite reprehensible. Admittedly, as often as not, he would let himself in for it.  And at first, Prisoner of Cimlye seemed to be shaping up to be more of the same. Why, I asked myself, is Lang insisting on getting himself into these situations?

Well, as happens in any good story, the characters grow and develop. I won’t spoil it, but I was quite pleased with the way Taef and Lessie’s relationship evolved. It made me wish I had read it right after finishing Sailing to Redoubt. Who doesn’t love a good adventure yarn; and a splendid yarn this is, that left me eager for more. And–huzzah! For another book in this series will be released in less than a week’s time. I will soon be returning to the Tropic Sea saga.

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As I write these words, my Twitter feed is abuzz with talk of Dune Part 2. I have not seen this film, and it may be a good while before I do, as Dune Part 1 left me underwhelmed. Besides, I’ve never liked it when they split one book into multiple movies. And we all know what started that practice…

What does it say that the best idea the film industry can think to use for a blockbuster science fiction film is a nearly 60-year-old book that has already been adapted for the screen multiple times?

Are no new stories being told? Has the creative fire simply gone out of civilization, leaving us only with the ability to make increasingly shoddy copies of old masterpieces? Has the modern entertainment industry gradually supplanted our ability to innovate with a constant remixing of familiar stories that generate predictable cash flows for the massive corporations that churn out this material, while simultaneously siphoning the dynamism and vitality from them, in much the same way that over time, sports and games evolve into predictably boring affairs, as continual refinement of technique bleeds the spontaneity out of them? Was that last sentence entirely too long?

The answer to all these questions may well be “yes.” And yet, on the other hand, it may also be “no,” which brings me at last to the actual subject of today’s post, which is an original tale of adventure on a distant world.

The Last Ancestor is a science-fiction novel, telling the story of 17-year-old Garrett Nestor, a human settler of the planet Yxakh, to which his people have fled from persecution on Earth. Garrett along with his mother and little sister, live in the human colony of Canaan, which is currently at peace.

I say “currently” because previously they had fought a war against the inhabitants of Yxakh, a species of bipedal dog-like creatures which humans refer to as “Growlers.” You’ll notice I didn’t mention Garrett’s father in the description above; that’s because he died heroically fighting the Growlers.

However, now an uneasy truce exists between the human settlers and the warlike native inhabitants. Indeed, Garrett has even made friends with a young Growler named Ghryxa. Garrett and Ghryxa enjoy hanging out and exploring the nearby caves, while teaching one another about each others’ cultures and traditions.

So far, so good. What could go wrong, eh? Well, since the essence of drama is conflict, naturally, Garrett and Ghryxa soon find themselves caught in the crossfire between the humans and the Growlers, as well as an inter-Growler religious conflict! Not a pretty place to be in, especially given the Growlers’ tendency to settle things violently.

Speaking of violence, there are plenty of good action scenes in this book. Just look at the cover, and you’ll get a sense of the thing. It reminded me quite a bit of the works of Edgar Rice Burroughs, and his modern day stylistic heir, Henry Vogel. It has that same pulpish sense of fast-paced adventure.

But there are deeper themes here as well. The book has strong religious overtones, but not in the heavy-handed way that is commonly associated with religious fiction. No, here it is woven deftly into the story, and seems like a natural part of the characters’ personalities. (The book’s subtitle is a sort of clue here, but I’ll say no more than that.)

It’s quite well done and clever. The author goes to some lengths to build the world, including inventing a rather large vocabulary for the Growlers. There is a helpful appendix that explains many of these terms; always useful in books like this. Garrett and Ghryxa are both quite likable characters, and the device of using messages from Garrett’s late father as epigrams for many of the chapters was an inspired idea.

My only complaint about the book was that the ending felt abrupt. Of course it’s part one of a series, so clearly the idea is to get you to read the sequel, which I will probably do. So, in that sense, maybe this is a feature, not a bug.

All told, this is a fun adventure yarn; the sort of story that hasn’t been fashionable for a while, and yet people inevitably enjoy whenever they stumble across. Anyone who likes Sword and Planet adventure stories ought to check it out. And, let me add, it would make for a fine movie.

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“Like deep-burrowing, mythological worms, power lines, pipelines and pneumatic tubes stretch themselves across the continent. Pulsing, peristalsis-like they drink of the Earth and the thunderbolt. They take oil and electricity and water and coal-wash and small parcels and large packages and letters into themselves. Passing through them, underneath the Earth, these things are excreted at the proper destinations, and the machines who work in these places take over from there.

Blind, they sprawl far away from the sun, without taste, the Earth and the thunderbolts go undigested; without smell or hearing, the Earth is their rock-filled prison. They only know what they touch, and touching is their constant function.

Such is the deep-buried joy of the worm.” –-Roger Zelazny, The Dream Master

Every now and again, in the bookish circles of Twitter, I’ll see this tweet referenced:

This is an exaggeration for comic effect, but sometimes it is true. It is especially true with a book like The Dream Master, which I picked up after enjoying Zelazny’s A Night in the Lonesome October.

This book is absolutely nuts. There is a plot, to a degree, involving a man who helps shape and understand people’s dreams by means of a simulation machine. But that part of the story is only loosely threaded through bizarre and surreal images like that in the passage quoted above. I already forget, if indeed I ever knew, what that has to do with the story proper. But when you write something that good, it hardly matters.

It took me a while to figure out, but the book is actually structured like a dream. You know how dreams are: you’ll be at the office Christmas party, only your boss doesn’t look like your boss, and then suddenly you’re trying to break into a haunted house with the aid of Mitt Romney. It all makes sense when you’re dreaming it, and sounds insane when you remember it later. (And yes, I have had this exact dream.)

This book is like that; full of symbolism and weird changes of voice and perspective that call to mind simultaneously The Waste Land, the works of C.S. Lewis, and the more esoteric elements of the Dune universe. It is, in other words, a complete fever-dream acid-trip of a book.

Which is not to suggest that it is bad! Not at all. Indeed, I often think the best books, or at least the most memorable ones, are those that make you feel like you are teetering on the edge of madness. What fun is a book that merely describes the humdrum and everyday? If we accept the description of reading quoted above, then by golly, when I stare at my tree-slices and hallucinate, I want it to be something extraordinary.

And throughout The Dream Master, there are fragments like that; haunting, prescient, visionary glimpses into concepts that seem less dream-like now than they must have in 1966. Why, why is it, I ask you, that so many of these sci-fi dystopias of past literature seem to feel so uncomfortably close to our present-day reality? I am again reminded of Clarke’s Childhood’s End, and the idea that the appearance of the aliens in ancient human folklore meant that they “became identified with [humanity’s] death. Yes, even while it was ten thousand years in the future! It was as if a distorted echo had reverberated round the closed circle of time, from the future to the past.”

The idea of the future coming back to haunt us in the past–now there’s an idea that would be not at all out of place in Zelazny’s nightmare-world! No, no; this book, despite being in many ways exceptionally strange, is also endlessly fascinating, deeply unsettling and even, in some places, rather funny. I recommend it; just don’t go in expecting a linear narrative.