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

Signal to Noise, Sylvia Moreno-Garcia

Someone in my book club in Cardiff mentioned Signal to Noise to me with some enthusiasm, and I’d already looked at it speculatively a few times, so I was quite eager to give it a go. Music and magic being linked is hardly a revolutionary idea for me: Orpheus, the enchantment of a good song, the Pied Piper… But this uses music like Bowie and Nina Simone; songs like ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’. Popular music, recent music. It’s an accessible sort of magic, and the perfect kind of magic for a teenager to use.

The characters are very teenage: a mismatched group who don’t get along with other people so well, at least as teens; who grow apart, as adults, so that the first moment of recognition is a strange one. The pushy prickly leader and the gentle follower, the bond between a boy and a girl of understanding, of seeing a future… The teenage versions of the characters definitely work well, though as adults there’s still something so teenage about them — or at least about Meche, Mercedes, the main character.

The two plots run parallel: Meche, Daniela and Sebastian as teens, casting spells using vinyl, and then the same characters as adults, grown far apart — wrenched far apart, it turns out, by what happened when they were teens. That plot is kind of interesting, though I didn’t really feel Meche’s power trip. It got way too menacing too fast, and after that I couldn’t understand Sebastian and Daniela still wanting to be anywhere near Meche. Sure, the spells she wanted to cast were understandable — but also manipulative, and in one case, really dangerous. It doesn’t feel like Meche deserves Daniela and Sebastian’s patience and forgiveness, however close Sebastian and Meche were before.

I found it an overall entertaining story, but not as great as I’d hoped. I liked the fact that it was set in Mexico City, and the little flavours of food and stories which reminded you, every now and again, where the characters were and what shaped and constrained their lives — those subtle differences from the typical American teenagers. It’s not a hugely marked thing, though, now I think about it in retrospect — the story could be the same without the setting, I think.

Rating: 3/5

Dreamsnake, Vonda N. McIntyre

Received to review via Netgalley

It’s been quite a while since I read this, and I remembered it fondly enough, so when it came up on Netgalley, I decided to request it and do a reread. I only gave it three stars the first time, which surprised me when I looked it up and saw the raft of awards it got: Nebula, Hugo, Tiptree nomination, National Book Award finalist… I remembered it being quite like The Steerswoman in the narrative style, in the capable heroine; I remembered that the background of the story including queer and polyamorous characters in a casual, natural way — as well as plenty of capable women who knew what they were doing, who talked to each other (about things other than men!), who worked together.

Happily, all of that is still there, especially Snake’s care for others: for Melissa, and also for Gabriel, for Arevin, for the people she treats as a healer. Even for her snakes, though that’s not so surprising given that her livelihood relies upon them. And there are some quite lovely tender moments between Snake and the people she helps and becomes friends with.

The background of the story is fascinating too, and I don’t seem to have thought much about it before. It’s basically Earth, post-apocalypse, but exactly what that apocalypse was and how the aliens might have been involved, or even how long ago it was, are all shrouded and mysterious. And that background just lies behind the story, mostly not even used except in little bits — like the solution to breeding dreamsnakes. And there’s the whole issue of the healers using snake venom, how and why they would have begun that, how it all works. There’s room for half a dozen other stories here, though the one we’re told is a fairly straightforward redemption/quest story.

It’s still not quite a five star read for me: there’s something rather detached about it, emotionally, despite the tender moments. Sometimes the background feels a little too much like painted scenery. But for the most part, it was enjoyable to revisit Dreamsnake, and worth the time.

Rating: 4/5