Rebel of the Sands, Alwyn Hamilton

I think Rebel of the Sands is starting to get rather hyped, for its unusual combination of Eastern-type magic (Djinn) and setting (desert) and Western-type attitudes (gunslinging). It opens very strongly, immediately establishing Amani’s voice, and immediately introducing us to the kind of world she’s in, as well as one of the other main characters (and it is obvious their meeting is no coincidence and has a greater plot meaning). My immediate guesses on the plot weren’t bad, but I was a little out on several points, which speaks well of the way things were structured and set up — easy to follow, with the capacity to surprise, while every step and hint is clear in retrospect.

The world-building is pretty fascinating: the meeting of technology and magic, and the melding of attitudes toward both. The Eastern/Western mixture works surprisingly well and feels natural, rather than as if someone pasted the two together for a gimmick.

I wasn’t absolutely bowled over, though; the pacing to me seemed a little off, and the connection between Jin and Amani seemed to grow at least as much in off-page exchanges as on-page scenes. The pace certainly never stalls, but sometimes I could have done with a scene or two extra, so that the flow of the story and the flow of time aligned more. There were sections where I think days and weeks passed, but only a paragraph or two? I liked that the relationship between Jin and Amani grew slowly time wise, but it didn’t always feel as if we saw that growth happening.

Rebel of the Sands is definitely inventive and fast paced, and I’m looking forward to the next book. For a debut, it’s pretty amazing. I’m wavering about the rating, but I feel I’m just not enthusiastic enough to give it a four. But for sheer enthusiasm, Charnell @ Reviews from a Bookworm and Cait @ Paper Fury have you covered…

Rating: 3/5

City of Blades, Robert Jackson Bennett

I originally received this to review, and then a friend brought me a US edition of the paperback so I had matching ones. Yay! Don’t be fooled by the UK cover on this post; it’s just because that’s the version I had first. So if you read my recent review of City of Stairs, you’re probably not surprised at all to find that I loved City of Blades. The writing remains incredibly strong, and instead of resting on his laurels and giving us more of Shara, Bennett takes a supporting character from the first book and takes us to a different part of the world. We do get recurring characters — quite a bit of Sigrud, a few glimpses of Shara — and the Battle of Bulikov has a profound effect on the plot, but Turyin Mulaghesh really takes the stage.

Which is just fine with me, since she’s an amazing character. City of Blades gives us a lot more depth on that character: what made her the way she is, what drives her, what she fears, why she serves and when she’ll rebel. Her interplay with Sigrud and Shara is fun because it gives us a new perspective on them, too, and her relationship with new characters like Signe and Biswal allows us instantly to care (though not necessarily feel favourably toward them!).

And the plot, well. Again, Divinities are a key issue, which should surprise no one — and dead is not always quite dead when there are still miracles around. The mystery aspect revolves around a Divinity we haven’t met yet, but Mulaghesh’s experiences in Bulikov (and Sigrud’s knowledge of the Divine) is instrumental in figuring things out.

I don’t think I can actually say more without spoilers, so suffice it to say that City of Blades is just as awesome as City of Stairs, and a bit more heartrending into the bargain.

Rating: 5/5

Shiver, Maggie Stiefvater

Hmm, what do I think of Shiver? I tried reading some other reviews to try and clarify my thoughts, especially since I know reviewers I often agree with (like Cait @ Paper Fury) love, love, love everything Maggie Stiefvater produces. And I see the comparisons to Twilight, and bear with me here — I think it’s actually kind of true. At least as far as the relationship between the protagonists goes. Because “I saw you naked when I was a wolf” is kind of not cool, and animal instincts only partly excuse it, since a wolf has no reason to stalk a human girl and memorise every move she makes.

But. The writing is much better. It’s called Shiver, and that atmosphere really does permeate the novel. You can feel the cold, the lateness of the year, the shortness of the days. The scent of the air. It’s definitely a sensual, sensory book — and that works especially well for the physicality between Sam and Grace.

I’m not always convinced by the characterisation of Sam, the way he thinks and the way he makes decisions, the kind of poetry he writes. I’m not exactly the authority on the way a teen boy thinks, and I did know some very sensitive people at that age, but it doesn’t quite ring true. It doesn’t even feel like the way an adult woman might think a teenage boy thinks, to me — it feels like Stiefvater just went for a “people are people approach”. That can work, but… society shapes all of us, and Sam isn’t really insulated from that enough for it to ring true.

As for Grace being boring, well, no, not really. I found her interesting because she was so down to earth and practical, because of her longing for the life of the wolves, because of the way she responded to her family situation. If all she thought about was ice cream and calories, people wouldn’t like her either. There are girls like her and they’re not boring — they’re just different, complex like anyone. People complain about frivolous teenage girl protagonists… and then apparently also about their opposites.

It’s not as if she’s inhuman. Her connection with Sam, with the wolves, her longing for that life… all of that feels real, and more absorbing to me than worrying about her looks or something (though there’s a place for that too).

I did enjoy Shiver, overall; Stiefvater certainly can write, even if I found this a little long for the plot (I got the “solution” before we were halfway through the book, and plot-wise it’s fairly thin). I don’t know if I’ll read the other books in this series. Maybe. They’re pleasant enough.

Rating: 3/5

Lois Lane: Fallout, Gwenda Bond

Received to review via Maximum Pop

Gwenda Bond was on Strange Chemistry’s roster of authors, superhero novels are a thing I enjoy, and making the female supporting characters (like Lois Lane) the star of the story is 100% my thing, so I was quite intrigued by this, and glad to win it for review. Before reading it, I was a little surprised to see people complaining that it doesn’t contain more of Superman/Clark Kent. I mean, the title says Lois Lane. What did you expect? I’m baffled. After reading it, I feel even more so — one, Clark’s a reasonably big figure in the story even if we don’t see him, and two, why do you want Clark when Lois is perfect as the star of this story?

Fallout is a reimagining of Lois’ story, a teen reporter in a new school who cares about the people around her, and doesn’t care much for being asked to sit down and shut up. I don’t remember anything about Lois Lane’s traditional background in the comics and TV adaptations, but here she’s the daughter of an army general — brought up to take care of herself, with a very strong will of her own, and thus clashing with her parents and authority figures in school, but always with heart. She sees an injustice, she goes after it.

Which gives us the very topical basis of the premise: Lois sees that there’s a group of bullies in the school who are getting away with everything, and hears a star student complaining to the principal about it, only to be dismissed. Straight away she’s on the case — and Perry sees her instincts right away, recruiting her for the school magazine. It’s a bit of wish fulfilment, but it keeps the story from dawdling, and puts the focus on the problem, and the developing mystery surrounding it. You can feel how well-aimed this is, in a world that’s increasingly conscious of bullying, particularly cyberbullying.

And then it takes it one step further, and adds the conspiracy theory, the weird almost-magical techy bits. This is such a teenage book: Lois, well-meaning and determined, suspicious of the adult world and penetrating the issues immediately. She’s a great hero; as a teen, I’d have wanted to be her. And it bases it on such a realistic foundation: school officials who don’t notice bullying? I don’t know anyone who got through school without noticing some of that…

Lest you be wondering, Clark is a part of the story. Lois only knows him from the internet, but they trust each other and back each other up, and there’s… something… between them. Nothing they put a name to, not so far, but they care for each other and you can feel how much they want to meet in person and share everything. Clark’s insistence on keeping his secret worked well, and Lois’ reactions as well. Again, I suppose you could see it as topical with how you can meet people online, can you trust them, etc, etc.

For all that I’m saying it’s topical and it feels based in reality and it’s definitely a teenage-feeling book, I’m not saying I enjoyed it any the less for that. I appreciated all of that and enjoyed the story. It’s such an absorbing read, it just felt like pure fun to me. I got back from a day long journey from Brussels to Yorkshire on the train, meant to go right to bed, and picked it up ‘just for a minute’. Seventy pages later, I did eventually make myself go to bed…

Rating: 4/5

Soundless, Richelle Mead

I had pretty low expectations of Soundless, based on other people’s reactions, which perhaps helped me enjoy it a little more. I certainly don’t dispute that for something “steeped” in Chinese culture, it’s rather thin on it, and that the magical cure for deafness — coming right at the start of the book, as if all the rest of the plot couldn’t have been carried by a deaf protagonist — is kind of icky. On the other hand, at least the love interest remains deaf, and despite the star-crossed lovers thing it tries to pull, at least it’s never about the fact that Fei can hear and Li Wei can’t. It’s also nice that this is a standalone, with a self-contained plot.

It’s my first Richelle Mead book, so I can’t comment on the style and skill level as compared to her other work. It’s rather simplistically written, and for a book which involves the miraculous return of a character’s sense of hearing, it’s a little thin on the sensory descriptions apart from at key moments — there are some moving descriptions of spontaneous displays of grief, and an interesting section where Fei is beginning to realise she can hear and working out what exactly each noise means… but I feel like I should have been able to smell the paint, taste the tea, feel the grain of wood when she touches Li Wei’s carvings. That richness definitely isn’t there, and it would have added a lot, I think.

Also, on a purely technical note, I know magic is involved, but Fei has actually missed the critical period for learning to hear by a long, long way. You need the experience of hearing as a baby to really be able to understand and interpret it as an adult. At the very least, it’s much more painstaking, and I didn’t see that here either.

The set-up is also pretty simplistic: it’s only a stone’s throw from Panem, really, but less complex. There are only three classes of worker, plus beggars: miners, servants and artists. In a larger social situation, the artists’ importance would probably make more sense, but we’re given to understand it’s a pretty darn small community. Word of mouth (so to speak) works just as well in that setting, and wouldn’t be a drain on resources or manpower. Also, the division of labour versus the division of food makes very little sense.

Still, if you read Soundless as a kind of folk tale, a fable, it kind of works. I didn’t dislike reading it — and I did read it practically all in one go.

Rating: 2/5