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As usual, I’m using the last Friday of the year to recap all the books I reviewed over the past 12 months.

In January, I reviewed Adam Bertocci’s Travailing Through Time followed by the “choose-you-own-adventure”-esque Brutal Moon by Andrew Morris and Laura Dodd. For Vintage Sci-Fi Month, I reviewed The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K le Guin, and then it was time for a book I returned to over and over again throughout the year, Daniel J. Boorstin’s The Image. I finished of the month with the Lovecraftian Eldritch Declarations by Osvaldo Felipe Amorarte.

For February, I reviewed the literary romance with the cheesecake-y cover, In Love with Eleanor Rigby by Stacey Cochran, followed by the disappointing The Martian General’s Daughter. Then I finished the month with a new Geoffrey Cooper thriller, The Plagiarism Plot.

March began with Audrey Driscoll’s gorgeous and melancholy Winter Journeys, followed by C. Litka’s Glencrow Summer. I followed this up with the collected tweets of Adam Bertocci, Please RT, followed by the long-awaited review of Lorinda Taylor’s The Termite Queen Volume One: The Speaking of the Dead.

April started off with Seth Wickersham’s It’s Better to be Feared, a book about football, but I tried to make an interesting even for those immune to the charms of the gridiron. Then I followed that up with The Pup and the Pianist by Sea Kjeldsen, and the stylish noir short story The Night Train by Evelyn Archer. I then reviewed The Beach Wizard and the Easy Mind, the third book in Zachary Shatzer’s wonderful Beach Wizard series, and finished the month off with a how-to book for Walpurgis Night: Night of the Witches by Linda Raedisch.

I began May with John C. Reilly’s survey of apocalyptic literature The Perennial Apocalypse, followed by Norman Spinrad’s speculative sci-fi satire, The Iron Dream. Switching gears a bit, I reviewed Sterling North’s wistful memoir of his pet raccoon Rascal. I ended the month with Beth Brower’s The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion.

June started with my review of C. Litka’s The Darval-Mers Dossier and the delightful sci-fi caper The Wrong Stop by Rex Burke. Then it was time for a deep dive into the history of Prussia with Christopher Clark’s Iron Kingdom.

In July I reviewed Richard Pastore’s short story Twilight of the Guardians and Nelson DeMille’s The Book Case. Then it was time for another Shatzer book with his annotated commentary Wit and Assurance: Reviewing the Jests of 18th Century Humorist Joe Miller.

For August, I reviewed the unfathomably depressing but also extremely well-written Stoner by John Williams, followed by a biography of Oliver Cromwell by Theodore Roosevelt. Sticking with that rebellious motif, I reviewed the alternate future YA adventure Rebel Heart by Graham Bradley. And then, to close out the month, I reviewed the weirdest, wildest, most off-the-wall book in Jeff Neal’s Awful, Ohio.

September began with a long-expected party for the release of Mark Paxson’s absurdist political thriller masterpiece, The Jump. Next up was the military sci-fi adventure Go Tell the Spartans by Jerry Pournelle and S.M. Stirling and then, for a change of pace, the Autumn cozy mystery Candy Apple Curse by Eva Belle. Then I tackled Adam Bertocci’s darkest tale, The Fairfield County Friday Night Gridiron Bonanza

October, also known as Halloween month, is when I devote myself to reviewing books related to the great spooky holiday. I started with John A. Keel’s classic of paranormal literature The Mothman Prophecies. Then I reviewed another Geoffrey Cooper thriller, Betrayal of Trust, and Graham Bradley’s action-adventure spin on the classic story of the Headless Horseman with Sleepless Hollow. Then it was on to Adam Bertocci’s much-anticipated first novel The Sorcery of White Rats. Then I did a comparison of Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot mystery Hallowe’en Party with the vaguely-related parody adaptation film by Kenneth Branagh. And finally, for the big day itself, I reviewed Ray Bradbury’s The Halloween Tree.

November began with another Litka book, The Founders’ Tribunal, followed by a pair of reviews of related books: Paul Kingsnorth’s Against the Machine and the CCRU: Writings 1997 – 2003, which might as well have been called “For the Machine.”

For December, I reviewed Yukio Mishima’s controversial Sun and Steel, then Bertocci’s latest short, McKenna gets Mercutio. I ended the year by reviving the Victorian tradition of the Christmas ghost story with The Green Room by Walter de la Mare.

A very happy holiday season and a happy new year to you, dear reader. Let’s make 2026 another year of reviewing interesting books.

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As usual, I am using the last Friday of the year to do a recap of all the book reviews I wrote in the past twelve months

In January I reviewed Periapsis Christmas Vol. 1, a collection of short sci-fi stories based around the theme of Christmas. Then, for Vintage Science-Fiction Month, I reviewed the classic Childhood’s End by Arthur C. Clarke. Then I took on the cozy mystery Whole Latte Death by Chris J. Pike and M.D. Cooper. Then another vintage sci-fi read was in order, the sweeping and depressing A Canticle for Leibowitz.

For February I reviewed Post-Modern Romance by Nick Ryder, a truly bizarre book. Next up was an Adam Bertocci take on the day of romance, Crappy Valentine’s Day. I followed that up with a review of Wodehouse’s hilarious short story Honeysuckle Cottage and then another of my favorite authors, Zachary Shatzer’s comedy Sorcerers Doomed.

March began with the trippy and weird Roger Zelazny book The Dream Master, followed by the science fantasy The Last Ancestor by Alexander Hellene. This was followed by C. Litka’s tale of tropical seafaring romance, The Prisoner of Cimlye and the humorous short story Ghosted by H.L. Burke.

April started off with The Snow Queen of Somerville High by Adam Bertocci and then Zachary Shatzer’s wonderful allegory Dog Wearing a Bowler Hat. Then I wrapped up the month with another Litka adventure, Passage to Jarpara.

I began May with Junkyard by Lindsey Buroker, followed by Reality Check by Dave McCreery. Then came time for a book by one of our favorites here at Ruined Chapel: Carrie Rubin’s Broken Hope. I finished off the month with Fear Extinction by T.S Becker.

June started with my review of the weird western His Ragged Company by Rance D. Denton, followed by the romance/crime thriller Casino Queen by Cara Bertoia. Then it was time for another medical thriller, this time with a historical twist, in The Third Man, by Geoffrey Cooper. Then I ended Waterloo month with a memoir by one of Napoleon’s soldiers.

July began with a familiar duo: first, Zachary Shatzer’s comedic political thriller Puppet Dance, then Adam Bertocci’s The ‘I Want’ Song. Then I indulged myself just a bit more with another Napoleonic history book.

For August, I reviewed the cryptid horror story The Killer Catfish of Cape Cod by Bill Russo, followed by the sci-fi classic The Joy Makers by James Gunn. Next up was a history of the Library of Congress Card Catalog. I finished up the month with Ex Marks the Spot, mayhap one of Adam Bertocci’s finest books, followed by Carrie Rubin’s Malignant Assumptions.

September began with the supernatural crime thriller The Valley Walker by T.W. Dittmer and the Arthurian-Gothic The Governess of Greenmere by Paul Leone. Then, once Autumn officially began, I reviewed the Autumnal cozy mystery Harvest and Haunt by Eva Belle

October is a month that has this little-known holiday in it. I try to keep this to myself, in my quiet, unassuming way, but it’s called Halloween. So, I reviewed some books that fit the spirit of the month. First up was Knee-Deep in the Dead by Dafydd ab Hugh and Brad Linaweaver, a novelization of the video game Doom. Then came The Thing from HR, a brilliant Lovecraftian horror-comedy by Roy M. Griffis. Then, to put Halloween in its proper historical context, I reviewed a vintage Halloween reader, and then, when I couldn’t choose just one Halloween-related thing to review, I picked a whole slew of them.

November began with a book called The Samhain Visitors by Paul Rix, which is not cheating by including a Halloween story in November, no matter what anyone else says. The following week, I reviewed Zachary Shatzer’s collection of short stories, Mayor of Turtle Town. Then, I tackled a work of significant non-fiction, Seeing Like a State by James C. Scott, which explains at least half of everything that’s wrong with the modern world. Then, to lighten the mood, I finished the month with Bertocci’s Watching Wonderful.

For December, I reviewed the supernatural post-apocalyptic romance When Her World Went Away by Alexis L. Carroll and the sci-fi political thriller Vote for AIDAN by Tanner Howsden.

I wish you all a very Happy New Year. I’ve got some good books lined up to review for 2025; I think you’re going to enjoy them. 🙂

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As usual, I am using the last Friday of the year to do a recap of all the book reviews I wrote in the past twelve months.

In January I reviewed Henry Vogel’s pulp sci-fi adventure Trouble in Twi-Town. Then, for Vintage Science-Fiction Month, I enjoyed the oldest sci-fi book on record, A True Story by Lucian of Samosata, followed by Phillip McCollum’s A Nuclear Family. Then I reviewed a rare genre for me: biography, namely David C. Smith’s book on Robert E. Howard. I also celebrated Second Halloween with a review of C.S. Boyack’s The Midnight Rambler.

For February I reviewed Hank Bruce’s magical realism environmental novel A Prayer for My Mountain. Next up was another unusual one for me: a Wonder Woman comic. I followed that up with Sorcerers Lost by Zachary Shatzer (remember that name) and the epic alternate future-history unreliable narrator work of utter genius, Fitzpatrick’s War by Theodore Judson.

March began with the raunchy adventure story Romance Raiders of the Lost Continent, followed by a St. Patrick’s Day tale with Adam Bertocci’s Kiss Me, I’m Iris. Then I reviewed the classic mystery novel Dead Cert by Dick Francis. Finally, I completed Peter Martuneac’s Ethan Chase trilogy with Gold of the Jaguar.

April started off with The Last Adventure of Dr. Yngve Hogalum, then moved on to The Beach Wizard’s Big Mistake, another Shatzer tale. Up next was Fractured Oak, by Dannie Boyd, and I wrapped up the month with another Bertocci story, Wordsworth, Wilde and Wizards.

I began May with Queen’s Shadow for Star Wars day, and then Three for a Girl by Kevin Brennan. After that, Andrew Crowther’s sci-fi novel Down to Earth and yet another Bertocci tale, I’ll Never Forget You.

June started with my review of the little-known ghost story Grayling, or, Murder Will Out and Richard Harding Davis’ Soldiers of Fortune. Then, being in a Napoleonic mood, I reviewed Courage, Marshal Ney. Then–what else?–Shatzer’s Grab Bag followed by Kingsley Amis’s entertaining bit of literary criticism on the James Bond books.

July began with an entry from a genre near and dear to me: B.R. Keid’s military sci-fi Intrusion Protocol, After that, I reviewed the thriller Agent Zero and a Kevin Brennan classic, Yesterday Road. Then I polished off the month with another Shatzer tale, Molly McKeever and the Case of the Missing Clown.

For August, I reviewed the weird western The Widow’s Son by Ryan Williamson and The Fifth Student by Geoffrey Cooper. Next up was Christopher St. John’s delightful fantasy War Bunny and the sci-fi adventure The Matrioshka Divide by Isaac Young.

September began with The Stench of Honolulu by Jack Handey. Then it became technothriller month, beginning with Sheldon Pacotti’s disturbing and prophetic Demiurge. Then a more traditional technothriller followed, with Tom Clancy’s Rainbow Six. I capped off this techno-trilogy with Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty. And then, to finish the month, another Shatzer book: The Cowboy Sorcerer.

October was of course Halloween month, and therefore I reviewed the cozy mystery Halloween Hayride Murder, the football history (but secretly Halloween-related) Paul Brown’s Ghost, the collection of cryptid tales Phantom Menagerie by Megan Engelhardt, and finally Roger Zelazny’s A Night in the Lonesome October, which came recommended by Richard Pastore, and did not disappoint.

November began with a review of Bill Watterson’s long-awaited return, The Mysteries, followed by Kristin McTiernan’s time-travel Fissure of Worlds. Yeah, I only reviewed two books that month. November is rough for me; I’m always a little down after Halloween.

For December, I reviewed a romance novella by Napoleon Bonaparte (!), Brina Williamson’s Merona Grant and the Lost Tomb of Golgotha, and of course, to finish things out, another book by the prolific Shatzer, The Hero and the Tyrant.

I wish you all a very Happy New Year, and I look forward to discovering what wonderful books 2024 has in store for us!

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Happy New Year’s Eve… Eve! As usual, I use the last Friday of the year to do a recap of all the book reviews I wrote in the past twelve months.

In January I reviewed Phil Halton’s dark tale of life in Afghanistan, This Shall Be A House Of Peace. Then for vintage science-fiction month, I took on C.S. Lewis’s That Hideous Strength, followed by Eileen Stephenson’s Imperial Passions: The Great Palace. Another vintage sci-fi review ended the month, this time of Asimov’s Foundation.

For February I reviewed Zachary Shatzer’s Sorcerers Wanted. Next up was Sailing to Redoubt by Chuck Litka. I followed that up with a couple mysteries: He Needed Killing Too by Bill Fitts and G.J. Scobie’s techno-thriller, The Copernicus Coercion.

March began with more mysteries: Jacques and May Futrelle’s The Grinning God, followed by Sid Stark’s Permanent Position. Then, for the first time in Ruined Chapel history, a two-part review of E.K. Johnston’s That Inevitable Victorian Thing.

April started off with another Shatzer book, A Cozy Alien Murder, then pivoted to the dark fantasy On The Marble Cliffs by Ernst Jünger. Then I returned to sci-fi with Cheryl Lawson’s A Dark Genesis, followed by Jünger’s memoir, The Storm of Steel. I then wrapped up the month with Karen Traviss’ Boba Fett: A Practical Man.

I began May with Nicola McDonagh’s Crow Bones, and D.N. Meinster’s sci-fi political thriller Our Friends Upstairs. Then The Prospect, Kevin Brennan’s baseball novel and another Shazter book, the whimsical The Peculiar Disappearance of the Delightfully Incorrigible Percival Pettletwixt’s Extraordinary Monocle.

June started with my take on Amanda McKittrick Ros’ Irene Iddesliegh and Michael Burns’ sci-fi adventure Starship Hunters. Then I commemorated the anniversary of Waterloo with Tom Williams’ thriller Burke at Waterloo. I wrapped up the month with Frank Herbert’s The Dragon in the Sea.

July began with The Spirit of Cahir Mullach by Clayton J. Callahan, which is more of a Halloween book, but I couldn’t wait. After that, I reviewed Will Jordan’s Trial by Fire and Tammie Painter’s dark thriller Day Sixteen.

For August, I went with Maddie Cochere’s cozy mystery Sunshine Hunter. Next came Adam Bertocci’s paranormal romcom The Usual Werewolves and Chuck Litka’s humorous Lines in the Lawn. I rounded out August with the raunchy sci-fi adventure Passion Pirates of the Lost Galaxy by Seka Heartley.

September kicked off one of the best sustained runs of books in this site’s history. First up was the wonderful comic novel The Beach Wizard, the crown jewel in Shatzer’s body of work. That was followed up by Mark Paxson’s excellent short story collection Killing Berthold Gambrel. What can I say? I’d been dying to read it, and it was worth the wait. Next came two spectacular medical thrillers: Geoffrey Cooper’s Perilous Obsession and the magnificent Carrie Rubin’s Fatal Rounds. I wrapped up the month with Isabella Norse’s Halloween romance, Something Whiskered This Way Comes.

October began with Neal Holtschulte’s debut novel Crew of Exiles, then Tammie Painter’s The Ghost of Arlen Hall and a not-quite-a-review of Peter Martuneac’s adventure novel Mandate of Heaven. This was followed by another Shatzer short, A Cozy Halloween Murder. This best of all months concluded with Adam Bertocci’s masterpiece of a millennial Bildungsroman mixed with humorous Halloween hijinks, Samantha, 25, on October 31. Don’t take my word for it; Lydia Schoch liked it too.

November began with The Kill Chain, another G.J. Scobie techno-thriller, followed by the depressing Rhodesian Bush War tale Commando: Shoot to Kill by Peter Rische. To counter this, I reviewed Meredith Katz’s cozy The Cybernetic Tea Shop and another Martuneac adventure, Solomon’s Fortune.

For December, I reviewed another Bertocci tale, the fourth-wall-bending The Hundred Other Rileys and then the time-traveling epic Sunder of Time by Kristin McTiernan. I ended the month with two Christmas-themed books: Lights for Christmas: A Steampunk Conspiracy Christmas Story by C.O. Bonham and a final Shatzer book, A Cozy Christmas Murder.

Best wishes for a Happy New Year, my friends! Personally, I’m resolving to review a wider variety of books in 2023. And I’m really looking forward to seeing what all of my friends have lined up for the coming year!

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“A Steampunk Conspiracy Christmas story!” What magical words! How could anyone not read something with such a subtitle? What does this world need, if not more Steampunk Conspiracy Christmas stories?

This one is a quick read, telling the story of a girl who has purchased lights for her orphanage’s Christmas tree. A series of chance encounters lead her to more than she bargained for, including an encounter with some rather shady characters who are mixed up in the holiday business.

The story is very short, and as a result, there isn’t as much world-building as one typically expects from a steampunk story. Aside from a few touches here and there, it was most a standard Victorian-esque setting.

I did like the hints of a totalitarian government assigning people to jobs, as this carried just enough hints of dystopia to make it interesting, without overwhelming the rest of the story.

All told, this is more of a quick sketch than a fully-fleshed out tale. But still, it’s a tantalizing glimpse of what could be. Perhaps, we may dare to hope, it presages the dawn of a whole genre of Christmas steampunk conspiracy stories. Imagine bookshelves stocked with seasonal tales of this type. Imagine a whole channel, like the Hallmark channel, but dedicated to films in this genre. I could go on, but you get the idea.

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I don’t typically put content warnings on my reviews, but today I’m going to. There’s no way to talk about this book without talking about some pretty nasty stuff. The book includes some graphic descriptions of violence as well as plenty of swearing. It’s definitely not for anyone who is sensitive or easily-offended. Also, there are lots of racial slurs in it, although not the one you might be expecting. I can’t blame you if, in these troubled times, you prefer not to have your reading filled with such things.

It is a gritty and realistic account of commando raids, told in the first-person with startling immediacy. In great detail, the author describes the covert missions behind enemy lines undertaken by Rhodesian Light Infantry commandos.

Okay, here’s the deal: this book is supposed to be fiction. It’s in the “war fiction” category on Amazon. There’s a disclaimer in large letters at the beginning confirming its fictional nature.

But it does not read like fiction. I read enough non-fiction war memoirs to know what they’re like, and this reads just like one.

Moreover, it doesn’t have any of the standard features one expects in fiction, such as plot arcs or character development. The narrator mentions his comrades and their names and sometimes one or two minor personality traits, but they aren’t “characters” such as might be found in a novel. They are just guys who went on commando raids with him.

And there is no story, no three-act structure, or anything like that. It’s just a straightforward account of missions the narrator carried out, in chronological order.

If Rische just made all this stuff up from a combination of imagination and research, I’d have to say he did a fine job. It captures the feeling of reality with none of the artificiality of dramatic structure. But… I suspect that’s not what this book is.

Every so often, there’s a scandal where somebody writes something claiming to be a memoir, and it turns out to be largely fictional. (This is the most famous example that comes to mind.)

I struggle to think of a case of the reverse, where someone passed off a factual account as fiction. I mean, what would be the point…? Yet I have to wonder if that’s what’s happening here. It just feels too realistic.

And if it really is a work of fiction, and not a memoir, then it feels like a missed opportunity. Because the thing fiction can do that a memoir can’t is explore multiple perspectives and points of view.

The narrator of this book is not interested in doing that. Time and again, after describing some bloody attack on the enemy, he’ll say something along the lines of, “…but I didn’t feel bad about the brutality. The fact was, if we didn’t do it to them, they would be attacking innocent people.”

It never seems to occur to him that presumably his enemies are thinking the exact same thing. No doubt they could provide their own justifications for their actions, just as the narrator does for the RLI.

And this is of course the ugly logic of war: “do unto them before they do unto you.” And it makes a certain sense, once you are in such a brutal situation, but it is the logic of the vicious circle. At every point, each side’s most “rational” choice is to escalate, leading to utterly inhuman horrors.

Early in the book, there’s a section about the Rhodesian Air Force bombing an enemy camp. The pro-Rhodesia position is that it was a terrorist training facility. The anti-Rhodesia position is that it was a refugee camp. Even if, like me, you know nothing about the Rhodesian Bush war, this sort of dynamic will be familiar to anyone who has read about the Israel-Palestine conflict, or any of the United States’ recent “asymmetric” wars.

Our narrator, of course, believes 100% that it was a terrorist staging ground, and only that, and anyone who says different is just repeating enemy propaganda.

Well, as long as we’re subscribing to the idea that this is “just fiction,” sure, why not? But my sense is that in most real-life cases where things like this happen, it’s usually some combination of the two. A common tactic of the militarily weaker side is to place their agents among civilians, so the stronger side can’t avoid civilian casualties.

Even the wars that we look on as “good” wars have their share of incidents like this. No one really likes to think about it, but in any war, there is some expected amount of loss of innocent life. It’s “priced in,” as it were, when calculating the costs of war.

Do you feel a bit sick thinking about this? I feel pretty sick writing about it. As we should. It would have been interesting if the book had featured a little more introspection, a bit more musing about how the narrator and his beloved country became locked in an inescapable conflict that could only end badly. And did.

But there is no introspection here. Which, again, I would understand in a memoir much more than in a novel. As it is… this is a strange and depressing book. Which, I suppose, makes it an accurate account of how the war must have felt.

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This is a cybercrime techno-thriller about a hacker who finds himself entrapped in an elaborate blackmail scheme. He’s forced to recruit old friends from his past in an effort to save himself.

What I liked most about the book was the setting. It’s a classic cyber-dystopia, with omnipresent surveillance and ongoing threats of pandemics. The atmosphere was creepy and disturbing, without being distracting.

Also, the technical details of all the hacking and counter-hacking were well done. I could follow what was going on without getting bogged down in the details.

I did struggle with some of the characters, in particular the protagonist. Let’s just say that, while he is the victim of a crime, he is far from innocent of wrongdoing himself. This made it hard for me to feel much sympathy for him.

However, if you can get past that, the book certainly makes for a fast-paced and exciting page-turner. Also, that cover is spectacular, isn’t it? Makes me think of Ghost in the Shell a little.

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This is a fascinating, and at times challenging, sci-fi book. It tells the story of Beryl, a post-human entity–effectively, a god, or at least a titan–sentenced to be trapped on Earth in a sickly human body as punishment for his crimes against the post-human order.  The nature of these crimes is not apparent until later in the book, but it’s clear they strike against everything their culture values.

Wandering the nearly-desolated planet, Beryl eventually comes into contact with a woman named Fife, who has been happily living in a virtual reality pod for what amounts to innumerable “in-game” lifespans, honing her skills in all manner of simulations. When they finally meet “IRL” Fife is everything Beryl is not: plucky, optimistic, and competent. Beryl regards her as an “airhead gamer,” but reluctantly joins her “party,” seeing it as his best bet for escaping a planet he loathes.

Gathering two more lost individuals and one spaceship, they manage to depart the Earth, but doing so quickly draws the attention of the psst-humans who exiled Beryl in the first place. Unable to escape their godlike powers, he is forced to confront his past and try to find a way to atone for many mistakes.

It’s an interesting book about humanity and mortality. The most relatable and likable character is Fife, who never stops working to bring out the best in everyone she meets. I have to admit; I’d have preferred she be the protagonist over the often-morose Beryl. Still, she plays a pivotal part in the story all the same.

Now, I know this will sound a bit rich coming from me, the man who hates description and has been repeatedly and justifiably knocked for not including enough of it. But, I felt the book needed more description. Not a lot more, as that would bog things down, but just a little more to ground the reader in the world. Beryl and the other post-humans’ perceptions of reality are so alien as to be hard to comprehend. (It reminded me a bit of the visions of Paul Atreides in Dune.)

Still, I am the last guy to put down a book because it doesn’t have much description, so this isn’t a major criticism. If you like trippy, challenging sci-fi that encourages you to think about the nature of humanity, this is a good book to read. And especially if you are a gamer, as many of Fife’s observations from the world of simulations will feel familiar to veteran players of RPGs. Gamers and sci-fi fans should definitely give this one a try.

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This book would make a great movie! It would be like Jurassic Park meets Aliens, with a bit of Predator thrown in. Instead of making endless sequels and prequels and reboots, the movie people ought to try adapting a lesser-known story like this one.

“Okay, Berthold; slow down,” you say. “What’s this book even about?”

Well, it’s set in the 23rd century, and tells the story of Nick Dekker, owner of the reigning champion women’s soccer team, the Los Angeles Hawks. Dekker sees an ad for an interplanetary safari, and decides it would be an excellent off-season activity for his team. Although Britt Jewel, the team’s coach and also Dekker’s girlfriend, is not excited about big-game hunting, he convinces her to go, and the rest of the team soon signs up as well.

Things start off well. The Regulus, the spaceship which transports them across the galaxy, is full of top-tier amenities, including a gym where Dekker spends most of his time fulfilling a promise to Jewel that he’ll get back in shape. It’s almost like a luxury cruise.

Except, not quite. Dekker is troubled early on by the presence of military personnel, most notably Capt. Luke Webb, a veteran of the Deep Space Infantry, who commands a unit of extremely lethal experimental combat robots. Dekker, a former space marine himself, begins to suspect this is something more than just a vacation.

His suspicions prove justified. Not long after landing on the first planet, they encounter a hostile species of intelligent aliens, soon dubbed the “Gorgon.” In response to the threat, Capt. Webb conscripts all the Hawks players into military service under his command.

What follows is textbook military sci-fi: plasma rifles, high-tech combat suits and the aforementioned combat robots get thrown into action against an alien army.  Of course, I loved it.

Moreover, though they’re both fighting the aliens, there’s some real tension between Dekker and Webb. Dekker distrusts the dictatorial officer’s motives, given his repeated withholding of important military intelligence from the rest of the group, while at the same time treating them as his own fighting force.

I do have some criticisms of the book. First, there’s a little too much exposition at the front. Now, I don’t mind a book that slowly builds up a world, and I hate the modern trend of having to start every story off with a bang. So, I don’t mind this too much, but some readers might find it slow going.

Second, I have a few problems with how the dialogue is written. It feels very stilted at times, like a bit too much explanatory matter for the reader has been included. Also, Dekker has this habit of telling everyone to call him by his first name, to the point that with every person he talks to, he seems to have a conversation like this:

“Hi, I’m Nick Dekker.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dekker.”

“Please, call me Nick.”

“Okay, Nick.”

This got a bit repetitive after a while.

But, I enjoyed the story so much that I could readily overlook these issues. Like I said, I can easily imagine this being a movie, and it would be a really good movie. The problems with exposition would disappear, as that sort of material can be conveyed much faster with film. And, this book is the first entry in a series, so the movie folks can rest assured they have plenty of sequel material lined up already.

If you enjoy military sci-fi adventures, give this one a try.

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I’ve been hearing a lot about this series, The Book of Boba Fett. But, turns out it’s not a book. It’s a television series, on a streaming service I don’t have. Damn false advertising!

However, Boba Fett: A Practical Man is a book. And it’s by the author of the Republic Commando books, the first of which I enjoyed. So far, so good.

The book follows Fett after his escape from the Sarlaac, when he has assumed the title of Mandalore. He’s going around doing typical Mandalorian mercenary stuff, when who does he run into but the Yuuzhan Vong?

Okay, time-out. How many Star Wars fans even know who the Yuuzhan Vong are? Personally, I had heard of them only by reputation; this is the first piece of Star Wars fiction I’ve ever seen that includes them.

My gut reaction is, they don’t fit in. They are weird, vaguely Lovecraftian entities that shun all machinery in favor of specially evolved organic technology substitutes. The Mandalorians description of them as “crab boys” made me think of the Collectors from Mass Effect 2.

Fett realizes a Yuuzhan Vong invasion is going to be bad news, and so strikes a deal with them to help them fight the New Republic, in exchange for the safety of his people. Of course, he knows they will renege on the deal and attack the Mandalorians eventually, so the deal is negotiated in about as much good faith as the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, and Fett begins discreetly passing intelligence to his nominal enemies in the New Republic.

I’m about to go off on one of my rants about Star Wars lore. Be warned.

I hated the idea of Fett negotiating such a deal. Of course, it makes strategic sense, but the Mandalorians are all about bravery and valor. Yet, here we have Fett using deception and legal quibbles to save his bacon. This is not the honest, forthright, confrontational style that Mandalorian honor demands! They are lions, not foxes!

This leads me to a larger point, which concerns not just this book, but everything we thought we knew about this particular Star Wars icon. Namely: is Boba Fett actually overrated?

I’ve always thought I liked Boba Fett. But, pretty much everything I see him in, he never quite lives up to expectations. As I said, I haven’t watched the new series, but I hear bad things, including that Boba Fett becomes a secondary character in his own show.

Of course, the thing that makes Boba Fett cool in the original trilogy is that you have no idea who he is or what his backstory is. He seems tough and capable, but beyond that, you make up whatever story you want for him.

Which is why all subsequent attempts to flesh Boba Fett out fall flat. They’re never going to live up to what you imagine. (Probably my all-time favorite Boba Fett story is his appearance in Galaxy of Fear #2, City of the Dead. But, I read that when I was 8.)

Like Karen Traviss, I love the Mandalorians. Theoretically, Fett should be the ultra-Mandalorian. But, again, he falls short of the Mandalorian ideal, otherwise known as Canderous Ordo from Knights of the Old Republic.

Ordo is like a combination of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Clint Eastwood. A tough-as-nails soldier who found steady work as a mercenary after the Mandalorian Wars, then used his underworld connections to forge an alliance with the Jedi Revan to defeat Darth Malak, then rebuilt the entire Mandalorian army. Meanwhile Boba Fett is most famous for being knocked into a hole in the ground by a blind man.

And so all writers who try to write Boba Fett are hamstrung by the fact that his documented actions are not half as cool as what everybody thinks he can do, and has done. Traviss is perfectly capable of writing good, solid Mandalorian warriors, as shown in the Republic Commando book, so I think the real issue here is the difficulty of reconciling movie Boba Fett with what we all want him to be.

Apart from the fact that (a) Fett isn’t a great protagonist and (b) the primary villains don’t really feel like they belong in Star Wars, it’s a decent book. There are plenty of battle scenes and stuff about Mandalorian culture. Traviss’ writing is mostly fine, although that issue with made-up words I mentioned in my Republic Commando review comes up again.

Also, there’s this:

Fett hadn’t come across anyone with ideas about taking over the whole galaxy before, unless he counted Palpatine.

Um… why would you not count Palpatine?

Anyway, that’s a minor point. This is a fun book for fans of the Mandalorians, even if only to compare how far they have fallen since the days of Ordo. But if you’re not a die-hard Star Wars fan, you’ll probably be lost.