Artemis

In 2014, Andy Weir successfully realized the dream of transitioning from software engineer and science nerd to blockbuster novelist with the Crown Publishing release of The Martian. I loved it. This year, 2021, he published Project Hail Mary, which reminded me that he had published his second novel, Artemis, four years ago and while I own a copy, I still had not read it. I resolved to remedy that. As I have stated previously, I am a slow reader, but I blasted through Artemis in a week during a handful of reading sessions including a particularly relaxing one at the beach.

Andy Weir returns to a first person perspective, this time telling the story as Jasmine, a twentysomething of Saudi descent who was raised on the lunar colony Artemis. Jasmine is intelligent and has great potential, but instead of applying herself in a science or a trade that would benefit the colony, she works as a porter making deliveries much to the disappointment of her father, also a resident of Artemis. Jasmine makes ends meet by moonlighting as a smuggler, a side hustle with particular synergy with her work as a porter. The colony’s lone star of justice, Rudy, has his watchful eyes on Jasmine but has not yet been able to catch her in the act. When Jasmine is offered a dangerous but lucrative assignment by a wealthy benefactor, she jumps at the opportunity. When the job goes bad, she is forced to run for her life, but when you live in an enclosed lunar colony, there aren’t many places to run to.

As in The Martian, Weir’s science explanations are in layman’s terms, allowing people who aren’t NASA geeks (and I use that term with utmost affection) like him to participate in the story and understand the science of lunar colonies. Did you know that while moon dust looks soft and pillowy, it is actually composed of very small balls of spiky rock and if you breathe it, it will shred your lungs? Good safety tip. Weir uses his knowledge and fandom of the history of manned spaceflight and space exploration to craft a believable lunar colony.

Jasmine is headstrong and smart. She has a mouth on her that gets into trouble as often as it gets her out of it. She has quite a bit of baggage that she has not yet unpacked, but it informs her actions, misguided though they may be. What I did not like about Jasmine was the oversexualization of her character. She has a reputation for sleeping around and nearly every interaction she has with a male character includes the topic of sex in some form. At one point in the story, she is trying to obtain some information and dresses like a prostitute to gain access to a restricted area. At another point, she meets a brilliant engineer friend who wants her to test out a new product he has designed. That product is a reusable condom and he has chosen her to test it because he knows she is promiscuous. One or two of these things throughout the novel would have seemed normal, but all of it packed into this three hundred page story felt gratuitous. After the fifth or sixth occurrence, I thought “wow, this is why female readers hate it when men write from a woman’s perspective”. I brought this up to my mother who also read the book and she said she none of it bothered her and suggested Weir was making a point about gender hypocrisy in sexuality.

The story of Artemis is a lot of fun. Whereas The Martian was a survival story, Artemis is a heist caper. While the main chapters tell the story in the first person present, the first half of the novel also includes letters Jasmine wrote to her Earthbound pen pal beginning in childhood and continuing as the two grow into adulthood. These letters help explain more of Jasmine’s state of mind and how her smuggling operation began. I enjoyed these glimpses into her past.

Not as brilliant as Weir’s stunning debut, Artemis is still an entertaining science fiction story. It is an accessible novel that could be enjoyed by people who only read science fiction casually. Even those who enjoy digging into the deep and challenging stories written by hard SF authors like Kim Stanley Robinson will enjoy the lighter themes of Artemis.

Fury From the Tomb

Adventure stories can take many forms. Probably most or all of the fantasy novels I have read in my life would be categorized as adventure, but I seem to have something specific in my mind when I think of the term. The story must take place in the real world though there may absolutely be supernatural elements. While a novel like The Hobbit is certainly an adventure, the fact that every element of the story is fictional eliminates it from my brain’s adventure category. Indiana Jones. Now that’s adventure. Brendan Fraser’s The Mummy series — though I admit I have not yet seen it — or the National Treasure series which I also have not seen. Am I destroying my argument here? Let’s stick with Indiana Jones then. Or the spectacular video game series Uncharted. Exotic real world exploration. Traps, chases, mortal danger, a forbidden treasure. Adventure.

Several years ago, I was at a Barnes & Noble Booksellers location during a road trip and I saw the cover of S.A. Sidor’s brand new (at the time) novel Fury From the Tomb. It took me a matter of nanoseconds for my brain to send a signal to my hands to snag it off the shelf. Look at that cover art. Excellent work by cover artist Daniel Strange. It is clearly inspired by the Indiana Jones film posters which themselves are inspired by the cinema posters for serial adventures from the ‘50s and ‘60s. I love it and I bought my copy based on the cover alone.

In the late 1880s — so we are predating Indiana Jones by half a century — a young Egyptologist named Romulus Hardy receives a golden opportunity when a wealthy and elderly Los Angeles man offers to fund Dr. Hardy’s very first archeological expedition. The benefactor has specific instructions though. Dig up a mummy from the Egyptian tombs and deliver it to him in Los Angeles. Had everything gone smoothly, the story would probably be a newspaper article on the back page, but the cover has a clearly animated mummy and a speeding locomotive being chased by bandits on horseback so it is safe to assume something akin to adventure occurs.

Hardy’s journey takes him from the tombs of Egypt to a train robbery in the Arizona territory to Mexico in pursuit of his quarry. Along the way, he gathers allies who end up doing the vast majority of the dirty work on Hardy’s behalf and here is where my unfair Indiana Jones expectations must be pitched aside. Dr. Jones is a capable, experienced adventurer. Dr. Hardy on the other hand is a rookie on his first expedition. He prefers the comfort of a library to field work and he is claustrophobic so exploring the dark, dusty, narrow corridors of underground tombs ended up not being as glamorous and sexy as he had hoped. What further sets this adventure apart from something like Indiana Jones is the heightened supernatural elements. Jones always dealt with the supernatural, but he never had to contend with creatures like mummies, zombies, and vampires.

The one major issue I have with this novel is the first person perspective. Because the story is told in a retrospective narrative decades after the events of the novel, we know the protagonist survives all of his adventures unscathed. This strips away any anxiety or fear the reader may have for the hero when he is in a dangerous situation. Consequences are reduced to minor inconveniences rather than true life or death scenarios. Hardy’s allies always seem to be in more grave danger than he is and I felt like it is their efforts that drive the story forward rather than Hardy’s. He is just along for the ride instead of driving the caravan even though he is supposed to be the leader. There is growth potential for Dr. Hardy, certainly.

Fury From the Tomb is the first of what is currently a two-book series (the second volume, The Beast of Nightfall Lodge, is available now). I do not know if S.A. Sidor plans to write more books in this Institute for Singular Antiquities series, but if he wanted to make Dr. Rom Hardy a long-running character, developing him from baby-faced newcomer to rugged adventurer, he absolutely could and I would join him on the ride.

Shadows Linger

I am new to the work of Glen Cook, but I do know that his novel The Black Company, published in 1984, is considered by many to be the birth of the popular grimdark category of the fantasy genre which is now dominated by authors like Joe Abercrombie, Mark Lawrence, and George R.R. Martin. It is a subgenre that interests me but with which I have little direct experience yet. Of course, I and the rest of the world watched HBO’s Game of Thrones television adaptation based on Martin’s hit series, but as far as the reading of books goes, I think Mark Lawrence’s Red Sister and Jonathan French’s The Grey Bastards are the only two that immediately come to mind.

I found Glen Cook in an odd way. I was watching this video (skip to 27:13) on the YouTube channel The Modern Rogue and hosts Brian Brushwood and Jason Murphy were performing an ad for Audible, discussing the books to which they were listening on the platform. Jason described The Black Company thus: “The Black Company is a group of hard-bitten mercenaries who are mostly trying to do the right thing. It puts a paramilitary gritty spin on all the fantasy tropes.” As brief as the description is, it was enough to sell me on it.

I listened to the Audible Audiobook of The Black Company in Summer 2018 and really enjoyed it. I love Glen Cook’s writing style. His use of vocabulary is just challenging enough that I find myself gratefully dipping into the dictionary a few times each book. Cook’s writing is so economical and elegant, crisp and snappy. Reading Cook’s sentences is like racing across a field on a horseback. It feels so good.

I loved the moral flexibility of the characters, which is a primary element of grimdark fantasy. Within The Black Company, the heroes might very well be the villains of traditional fantasy stories. In Cook’s story, however, they operate in a grey area, hoping they are doing the right thing but really working for whoever is paying their contract. While I would like to imagine myself as good and pure as Tolkien’s Frodo Baggins, I relate much more to Cook’s heroes. Here is Croaker, the Company’s annalist and physician, on the subject: “I do not believe in evil absolute. I believe in our side and theirs with the good and evil decided after the fact by those who survive. Among men, you seldom find the good with one standard and the shadow with another.”

In Shadows Linger, book two of The Chronicles of The Black Company, the Company is in service of The Lady, one of several powerful beings known as The Taken. The Lady orders them to the distant northern coastal city Juniper where evil is brewing. Croaker thinks The Lady is evil too, but this is a case of choosing the lesser of two. The devil you know and all that. Shadows Linger introduces one of my favorite characters of the series so far, Marron Shed, a tavern owner in debt to some dangerous people. His character arc is wonderful.

Because I have listened to both The Black Company and Shadows Linger on Audible, I now have particular fondness for the narrator Marc Vietor. In his performance of both books, he injects a tone of weariness in his voice, perfect for the ever-exhausted Croaker and his companions. While I still prefer to hold a physical book in my hands, Vietor is a prime example of the benefits of audiobooks.

I am now infatuated with this series about the bedraggled Company and am eagerly shifting book three, The White Rose, higher on my TBR.

Ready Player Two

Ready Player One was one of my favorite novels the year it was released. (Check out my podcast episode on the novel!) Having grown up in the Eighties and Nineties, the novel’s reliance on late 20th century pop culture references placed me firmly in the target demographic. Having firsthand knowledge of so many of the films, books, comics, and video games referenced in the novel, I felt like I was an active participant in solving the riddle of Halliday’s Egg. The novel also expanded my pop culture knowledge as I researched references with which I was unfamiliar. Further, since video gaming is my main hobby aside from reading, Ready Player One was a nearly perfect wish fulfillment fantasy. I read the hardcover when it was released and during a difficult time in my life, I found Wil Wheaton’s Audible Audiobook narration to be a supreme happy place for me and listened to it several times. I even enjoyed Steven Spielberg’s film adaptation as I found myself once again fantasizing about being able to exist within a fully virtual world.

In late Autumn 2020, Ernest Cline released the long-anticipated sequel, Ready Player Two. Because I have enacted a book-buying ban on myself until I clear out significant real estate on my Unread Shelf and because I adored Wil Wheaton’s audiobook narration of the first book so much, I used an Audible credit to snag the audiobook version of Ready Player Two which is also narrated by Wheaton.

I had some concerns though (not about Wheaton, I am a total fanboy). At the conclusion of Ready Player One, protagonist Wade Watts finds himself truly Joseph Campbell’s Master of Two Worlds as he wins administrative control of the virtual world The OASIS as well as its creator James Halliday’s multi-billion dollar fortune to enjoy in the meat world. Oh, he also gets the girl. In true Hero’s Journey fashion, readers follow Wade’s rise from orphaned kid living in the slums to the world’s wealthiest and most powerful man. How is a sequel going to work when the hero already has everything he could ever want? Look at other stories that do something similar. Hamstring the hero, strip them of their power. Introduce an even more powerful enemy. Raise the stakes. Cline handles the issue well in Ready Player Two while also introducing new elements that once again activated my wish fulfillment synapses.

Wade is forced to deal with the corrosive nature of power and greed, not from the capitalist monster from the first novel, but from within as he becomes a shadow of himself. As he comes to terms with his fall from grace and struggles to right the wrongs he has inflicted, he finds himself once again tasked with saving The OASIS. Wade must also confront the dangers of hero worship as he discovers the skeletons in James Halliday’s closet. I enjoyed this part of the novel. So many of the world’s heroes are expected to be perfect beings, but even the greatest among us are flawed individuals. This may be Ready Player Two’s best lesson … aside from the whole giving-a-machine-control-of-your-brain-maybe-not-being-a-good-idea thing.

As in the audiobook for Ready Player One, Wil Wheaton performs Ready Player Two with a sincerity and warmth that felt like a fuzzy blanket and cup of coffee on a brisk winter morning. He also narrates Armada, Cline’s second novel, so I may have to listen to his performance of that novel and see if it elevates my enjoyment of it.

Ready Player One was beloved by millions, myself included. Detractors, however, were not impressed by a contest winnable only by being the best pop culture nerd. I actually enjoyed that aspect of the novel because I recognized a lot of references and those I did not know, I had fun researching. If you did not like Ready Player One for this reason, know that Ready Player Two is much more of that as Wade races to find the Seven Secret Shards before his opponent. In the first novel, I accepted Wade’s success because he had spent all of his free time studying his hero’s favorite books, movies, and video games. However, his encyclopedic knowledge in Ready Player Two, especially regarding John Hughes films and the actors who starred in them, did begin to wear down my patience. Whereas Wade’s pop culture knowledge was critical to his success in the first novel, it was focused, even when Wade was chasing a red herring. In this sequel, there are lengthy passages that feel like Ernest Cline is showing off his own knowledge or fruits of his research. That is the only downside to what I feel is a wonderful and worthy sequel to one of my favorite stories.

Ernest Cline concludes the novel with an interesting scenario that could be a satisfying conclusion to a two-book series or could be a springboard to an entirely new series of stories. If he chooses to end the tale here, consider me a satisfied reader. If he has another OASIS seed germinating in his creative brain, look for me at the bookstore on Release Day.

Abbadon's Gate

It has been quite a long time since I explored The Expanse, but it is not for lack of desire. The first two books in the series, Leviathan Wakes and Caliban’s War, are outstanding galaxy-sweeping adventures. Continuing the main story involving the mysterious protomolecule introduced in the first novel and the escalating situation in the second, Abaddon’s Gate swaps out some major faces for new blood but maintains the fast pace and great characters that impressed me in the inaugural installments.

In this third volume, the story manages to be both congested and expansive simultaneously. Where the first two books included scenes on Earth, on Mars, on Ceres and other asteroid belt stations, and on various spaceships traveling between, the action in Abaddon’s Gate mostly occurs at The Ring, a gigantic structure built in space but not by any of the three known governmental bodies of Earth, Mars, or the Outer Planets Alliance. To determine the purpose of The Ring, the three warring factions must form an uneasy allegiance. Even then, and to nobody’s surprise, not everyone intends to play fairly. The resulting events are as exciting as any sci-fi action film I have ever watched.

As with the first two novels in The Expanse series, author James S. A. Corey (a conflation of authors Ty Franck and Daniel Abraham) crafted characters who fascinated me, inspiring me to read well past bedtime because I just had to know what they were up to next. The primary hero of the series, Captain James Holden and the crew of his ship The Rocinante are back and just as rich and disfunctional-family as they always have been. I love the Roci’s crew so much. Now, here is where my viewing of the streaming series — itself a phenomenal piece of science fiction entertainment every bit as good as the novels — gets me into trouble because I know the character of Anna was in season two of the series but if I recall correctly, she is new to the novels in Abaddon’s Gate. In the streaming series, she is introduced during the events of Caliban’s War so when she is introduced in book three, I already had an image of actress Elizabeth Mitchell in my head. She is great on the show so no worries there, but I tend to always prefer to read the book first so I can form my own image of a character. I love the novel’s Anna. She is a pastor to her congregation on Europa, the sixth moon of Jupiter. She embodies compassion, a trait so much in need in both the fictional world of The Expanse and in our challenging reality. I hope she appears in future novels. Newcomers Bull and Melba are wonderful, strong characters, one looking to right a wrong and the other looking to do the right thing, and both of them willing to die for their causes.

Science fiction is, by nature, progressive and so to say James S. A. Corey have written progressive elements into their stories is par for the genre course. I do, however, particularly enjoy the matter-of-fact nature of these elements as included. Body modification, homosexuality and same-sex parents, a variety of political ideologies, religious faith without fundamental extremism are all explored without judgment or condemnation. It is so incredibly refreshing and I cannot wait for these subjects to be commonplace in our own reality as well. Over the decades, science fiction has predicted many aspects of what have become our daily lives. I hope it too comes to pass that people are left to be who they are without the rejection, hatred, and demonization we see today.

The Expanse is truly one of my favorite things right now, both the books and the streaming series, and I am so excited for the opportunity to continue this amazing adventure with book four, Cibola Burn, this year.

'Salem's Lot

That’s another one thumped. Continuing my quest to fill in the holes of my Stephen King bibliography retroactively in publication order, I read ‘Salem’s Lot in October. What an enjoyable romp! I love Stephen King’s ensemble novels, e.g. The Stand and Under the Dome. The man is a master of creating a picturesque setting and populating it with lively characters you either love to love or love to hate.

I feel like even in these large populations, at least in the King novels I have read, there is a primary hero with whom King intends readers to most identify. In The Stand, it was Stuart Redman. Under the Dome had Dale Barbara. This novel starts with Ben Mears and in his first sequence, readers learn he is an author returning to the town of Jerusalem’s Lot, Maine where he spent his childhood. Readers also learn Mears is a widower. Right away, I identified with Ben’s interest in returning to the place he lived when he was innocent, before adulthood, before life grew difficult and painful and tragic. Back when he was happy. As a person who also writes — one manuscript in a drawer and a second on the way — I identified with Ben’s professional side. I also empathized with Ben’s tragedy. I found Ben immediately likable.

In short order, Stephen King also introduces us to the rest of the town of ‘Salem’s Lot. This is a typical small town with the sheriff and his one deputy, the market, the ice cream parlor, the bar with its ‘flies, the binocular-wielding retiree who feeds the town’s hunger for gossip, the church, the school with its earnest teacher(s), the hospital with its heroic staff. All of these locations are so clear in my head and I can see each of the town’s denizens too. I’ve been to these places and been glared at as an outsider by their people.

As the situation unfolds in Jerusalem’s Lot, a motley crew of protagonists assembles and it felt to me almost like a classic Dungeons & Dragons adventuring party. The wizard archetype is fulfilled by the teacher Matt Burke with his piles of research books. The cleric role is shared by two characters: the priest Father Callahan with the religious perspective and divine powers, and by Dr. James Cody with is ability to provide medical and health advice. I felt the precocious kid Mark Petrie and the stalwart Susan Norton filled the rogue role specializing in operating silently…unless they roll a one on their Stealth check. Ben is the fighter of the party, the frontline operator. Any other D&D players out there catch the same vibe from these folks?

There is also the old house on the hill. Of course there is. And of course it isn’t just any old house. Things happened there. And because we are in Stephen King’s world, things will happen there again and so it is a spooky old house. That is why we are here after all. While not as frightening as some other King stories, this novel certainly had a couple of scenes that made my hair stand on end. Barlow is a good main villain, but I found myself much more unsettled by Straker probably because I was never quite sure what he was and that made him much more frightening. I am not huge into vampire fiction — zombies are more my thing — but the lore shared in this novel piqued my interest and I plan to explore more vampire fiction to see what I am missing. I just have to make sure I find time to continue reading Stephen King’s work as well. If my log is correct, his Bachman Books collection is next.

The Way of Kings

When I read Elantris during the summer of 2018, I was impressed, but The Way of Kings is next storming level.

This one-thousand-seven page epic is just the first of a planned ten-novel series that already has at least one novella (Edgedancer, 2017) on bookstore shelves, virtual or otherwise, to sate voracious fans awaiting the fourth behemoth. I cannot imagine how author Brandon Sanderson plans to fill ten to eleven thousand pages, but I will say this. Despite the incredible length of The Way of Kings, I was not bored at any point. That is astounding. I have read some three-hundred page books that struggled to hold my attention throughout, but Brandon Sanderson managed to enthrall me from beginning to end. Every page was full of interesting details that exploded my imagination. Print copies are further enriched by beautiful chapter header artwork and full-page illustrations and maps. I spent several minutes perusing each of these, drinking in every detail.

Brandon Sanderson eschews the traditional fantasy races like dwarves, elves, and orcs in favor of a rich variety of human cultures with their own traditions and physical attributes. The only exception to that might be parshmen who are described as having human or human-like physiology but they have another quality that is certainly extraordinary. Sanderson teases details about these different cultures throughout the story and by the time I flipped to the last page of the novel, I had some understanding about a few of them but yearned for more. Sanderson offers little in the way of direct explanation, instead allowing me to explore and imagine on my own and when a new piece of information is provided, to chew and savor. The Way of Kings is one of those epic fantasy novels that delights in slowly dragging the reader deeper into its world. I loved every second of it and am in no hurry to escape it.

Living among the characters of Sanderson’s world are a diverse ecology of flora and fauna. Aside from horses, there are no recognizable animals in this world. Oh sure, one can recognize the earthbound inspirations for Sanderson’s creations, but the animals living on Roshar are strange and magnificent and I do not want to pet any of them. I was fascinated by the plant life and its sentience, reacting to outside stimuli, hiding like a timid animal and slowly reemerging when the coast is clear. Even the weather and the seasons have a strange, otherworldly quality to them. Such details were a warm blanket on a cold night and burrowed deeper.

Magic systems are important to epic fantasy fans. BookTubers produce entire episodes ranking their favorite magic systems and discussing in detail which are the best and which authors they think need to put a little more effort into the mystical actions their characters take. Personally, I do not think about it quite that much but I certainly do recognize and appreciate when an author has put extra effort into designing a system of magic that has rules and makes sense. Throughout his career, Brandon Sanderson has established a reputation for being one of those authors and in The Way of Kings, he introduces readers to characters with astounding abilities and then slowly sprinkles bread crumbs of information such that by the time the story is over, we understand the basic rules but still have so many questions. This is a great trick, especially when one intends to write nine more novels in the series. I expect to learn more about this Stormlight and how it can be harnessed in book two.

As Brandon Sanderson himself stated in an article on Tor.com, “I do put a lot of effort into the magic in my books. But a great book for me isn’t about a magic, it’s about the people that the magic affects.” As such, the characters in The Way of Kings are probably real people you can meet provided Brandon brings them along to his book signings. When I read Elantris, I loved the main characters and was surprised when I was drawn in by the villain’s story and felt some measure of empathy for his plight. The Way of Kings is no different. There are heroes and there are villains, but all of them are interesting and breathe. I identified with Kaladin the most because I recognized in his actions what I had hoped to accomplish in my former career. I was not successful and so I rooted for him to succeed that much more. The scholar in me envies Shallan and I want nothing more than to spend a day with her in one of the Veil balcony alcoves, reading books and discussing philosophy. I grew up in a family of military men — we can trace our military roots back several generations and therefore have tremendous respect for our men and women in uniform — and thus I admire and fear for characters like Adolin and Dalinar, but am thrilled when they are on the page because their adventures are just so storming exciting! Szeth-son-son-Vallano, like Hrathen in Elantris, is one of those villains deserving of sympathy and about whom I want to know so much more.

Another aspect of this novel that inspired me is the philosophical discussions. Throughout the novel, characters debate topics such as theology and faith, ethics and morality, prejudice and classism. Sanderson does not do it in a superficial way either. He presents valid arguments on both sides of the discussion and a handful of times, I actually set the book down to ponder what was just stated. I love it when a fantasy novel — a genre not given much credit in literary circles — has something profound to say about the real world. That is really every author’s goal but I feel like fantasy authors are largely ignored in this respect. Hopefully, authors like Sanderson can break through.

I love this book so much. For the past couple of years, my New Year’s Resolution has involved a pledge to read a book that I have been putting off for one reason or another. I had heard incredible things about The Way of Kings and so purchased a copy several years ago, but since then, it has sat on my shelf. The sheer size and weight of it intimidated me. Until six months ago, I was working a job that did not afford me much leisure time and so reading a novel the size and depth of The Way of Kings did not seem possible. I left that job in December and so in January I decided that in 2020, I would finally read this behemoth that had put Brandon Sanderson at the top of the fantasy author pile. Thanks to a buddy read hosted by my friend Dean Ethington, I can finally check The Way of Kings off my list of shame, off my TBR, and off my #20BooksIn2020 list. More than all of that though, I have taken the first step into an amazing fantasy world and I am excited to continue that journey.

West of West Trilogy

I will always carry a fondness for Angus Watson’s West of West trilogy. These stories carried me through some terribly difficult months in my life.

I was working a stressful job up to sixteen hours per day, six to seven days per week. I often had to isolate myself so I could cry hot, salty tears of frustration and rage. I was angry most of the time. My alcohol consumption increased significantly. I stopped taking care of myself. It was putting a strain on my marriage and on my friendships. It was destroying my mental health and my physical health was following. I began having chest pains almost daily though my doctor said he could find nothing wrong with me physically. Anxiety attacks, an event I had experienced only twice previously years ago and had no idea what they were at the time, became a weekly threat. At some point, I do not know precisely when, I began experiencing suicidal ideation. The first time it happened, I was walking on the sidewalk outside my office building. A city bus was heading full speed in my direction and I thought, I can just step into the street and it will all be over. I had stopped walking and was standing nearly on the curb. The bus whipped past me, buffeting me with hot wind and a cloud of filthy exhaust that choked me. It took me a moment to realize however that it was not exhaust that was choking me but phlegm. As I gagged and struggled to swallow, I became aware that my face was wet and my nose was running. I was sobbing and only just beginning to realize it. I wish I could say that was the wake-up call, but it wasn’t. This type of thing continued for months, perhaps more than a year. It was frightening. I didn’t know what to do about it. I just knew that for the vast majority of my breathing hours, I did not want to be here anymore.

Then on May 3, 2018, I discovered You Die When You Die and it may very well have saved me.

I generally prefer physical books — I enjoy the tactile experience — but I had recently subscribed to Audible at the insistence of my friend Jeff. I had read a review of You Die When You Die that touted its humor and imaginative fantasy setting. Being a fantasy fan since childhood and needing some humor right about that time, I pressed downloaded the You Die When You Die audiobook and pressed Play.

Initially, I listened only during my commutes to and from work and at some point, I realized that the heavy sense of dread I had been feeling during my drives to work abated until I actually parked my car rather than starting when I locked the front door of my apartment. Then I started listening on the rare occasions I managed to force myself to step out of the office and take a short walk. Listening to Sean Barrett’s playful portrayal of the diverse characters, the sometimes crass and sometimes clever humor, and the incredible journey undertaken by the cast of characters so completely transported me to Angus Watson’s fantasy world that I was temporarily relieved of what felt like the insurmountable challenges I was facing. I laughed freely for the first time in a long time and suicidal ideation began to materialize less often.

In You Die When You Die, Angus Watson introduces readers to a vast number of characters with distinct personalities, speech patterns and language, and behaviors. As performed by Sean Barrett, these became a diverse population of real people. Even little Freydis the Annoying and Ottar the Moaner have their own childlike voices. My favorites have to be Wulf the Fat because he makes me laugh, and Finnbogi the Boggy who is young and confused and earnest and wants to be a shining warrior like the brave men of his tribe. Legend says Finn’s people were delivered to their land from across the sea, led by the great Olaf Worldfinder. They are an honorable people of tradition and virtue, but are growing happy and comfortable and complacent in their humble village of Hardwork. They also believe, some of them anyway, that young Ottar the Moaner is a prophet and only his sister Freydis the Annoying can understand his incoherent ramblings. Ottar, through Freydis, says the Empress of the mighty Calnian Empire has ordered the genocide of the Hardworkers because she believes they will be the source of world destruction. She sends her elite Owsla, an all-female squad of alchemically-enhanced warriors led by the ruthless and cunning Sofi Tornado, to annihilate Hardwork and everyone in it. Freydis claims Ottar’s visions dictate they must travel far to the west and then even farther west than that, over the dangerous Water Mother, across the Ocean of Grass, through the Badlands to salvation.

During the course of the trilogy, Watson and Barrett lead readers and listeners on an exciting race across the continent filled with colorful characters, through a fascinating fantasy landscape loosely based upon a real world region. I won’t say which because I do not want to spoil it for those who want to discover that realization for themselves.

I am sure the dialogue and characters are wonderful on the printed page, but as I listened to the entire trilogy on Audible, I must take this opportunity to once again launch Sean Barrett’s name into the sky. There is so much humanity in his delivery. His voice drips with charm and wit and kindness. It was so easy to picture myself sitting at a fireside tavern table, tankard of ale in hand, listening to a traveling bard regale tavern patrons with this epic tale of Hardwork and hardship. I think he would have a Gandalf-style pipe.

I finished listening to the third novel of the trilogy, Where Gods Fear To Go, a couple of months ago shortly after I made the decision to leave the job that was slowly dismantling me. I wrestled with the decision for well over a year even after I had made up my mind. To say Finn and his allies helped me through my own epic journey toward salvation is melodramatic, but I won’t say I’m not saying that. To have completed that journey myself and then experience the satisfying conclusion of the story was one of those life moments paralleling art.

Even the titles seem to have coincided with my own path. With You Die When You Die, I had was dealing with a combination of feeling as though I were resigned to my fate of working sixteen-hour days and feeling as though the only way to escape it were the end of life. In the novel, Finn and the survivors of Hardwork begin the journey west, pursued by the lethal Calnian Owsla warriors. By the time I listened to the second novel of the series, The Land You Never Leave, I was at the bottom of a mental and emotional abyss that felt inescapable. As in the novel, however, I had allies who helped me fight my deadly foes and held me aloft when I felt sure to fall. Despite my challenges or hopefully because of them, I was developing strength just as Finn begins to realize his full potential. Then, just before listening to the series finale, Where Gods Fear To Go, I finally left my toxic career. I battled a gauntlet of thoughts and emotions that threatened to cut me down even though I had taken the leap to freedom. I felt as though I had abandoned my team at work, people with whom I had worked so closely for fourteen years. I thought I had friends there. I felt I was betraying them, but to save myself, I had to go. I feared leaving my job would further strain my marriage, break apart my family, destroy us financially. In the novel, Finn and his allies endure similar trials that threaten to sever their alliances. Just as I battled myself within, Finn’s group suffers internal division and betrayal with sensations of distrust and anxiety coursing through the refugees. In the face of it all, they persevere, fight on, nearly drown in their own blood and sweat and tears, but by the gods, they go anyway. So did I. Just as Finn and his allies suffer casualties along their perilous journey, there are people about whom I cared who are no longer in my life because of the path I traveled, but this was a journey of self-preservation and it had to be taken.

We made it west of west. Sure, the sun sets in the west and darkness falls, often symbolizing the end of something, but if you continue traveling west of west, you make it back around to a new dawn. A new opportunity. Renewed.

Thank you, Angus. Thank you, Sean. Thank you, Orbit Books and Audible. Wootah.

The Shining

The Shining is a bona fide classic. Whether speaking of the novel or the film, if you are in a crowd and mention you have never read it, never watched it, you will be pelted with outraged expressions of disbelief and exasperation from nearly everyone else within earshot. You may even be asked what you are doing with your life. So here I am, protected by the safety of my own website, saying I had never read The Shining.

Had. Past tense. I have remedied the situation and feel strange saying I feel a sense of completeness now, but that is the only way I can think to put it. The fact that I had not read The Shining had bothered me for years. During my junior year at university, I took a class that was listed in the university course catalog as a history of film studies, but the professor Dr. “Bob” Davis was a Stanley Kubrick überfan and had retooled the entire course to be an in-depth review of the director and his work. It was a fascinating class and one of my favorite university experiences. Students of Kubrick’s body of work will note that all of his feature films beginning with “Spartacus” (1960) are based on a novel or novella. Dr. Davis’s lesson plan was to assign the novel to read followed by an in-class screening of the film followed by analysis and discussion. It was a wonderful experience and one I am so sad to admit I did not take full advantage of. Being a full-time student while also holding down a full-time job left little to no time for sleep let alone in depth study of any of my class subjects, even of a subject that fascinated me as this one did. I wish I could take the class again today as a wiser adult with an appreciation for the gift that was being delivered to me every Tuesday and Thursday morning in that university auditorium classroom.

The first subject was A Clockwork Orange. Having been assigned for reading at the end of the class session on a Thursday with film screening and discussion scheduled for the following Tuesday, I had essentially four calendar days to read the novel. It is a short novel and I managed to do it. Following the Anthony Burgess masterpiece was The Shining. I bought the novel — I worked at a bookstore at the time so even received an employee discount! — but was not able to read it before the next class and so was without Stephen King’s original version of the story to guide me through the discussion. With the class charging forward to Barry Lyndon the following week and then Dr. Strangelove and beyond, I did not have the time to back up and read The Shining properly. After purchasing the book though, I did peek at the first page and will always remember the first line. “Officious little prick”. Why did that stick with me for two decades?

Fast forward to April 2020. In recognition of the global COVID-19 pandemic quarantine that has us all locked in our homes, my podcast (The Hero’s Journey) cohost and I decided it would be fun to cover a book or film featuring main characters trapped in isolated locations. Many projects were on the initial list but we narrowed it down to three finalists that we then presented to our Patreon patrons for voting: The Shining (novel and film), the John Carpenter classic thriller “The Thing”, and the criminally underappreciated Dan Trachtenberg directorial debut “10 Cloverfield Lane”. The Shining won with 50% of the vote and so I had a project to undertake.

I have seen the Kubrick film many times and that in-class screening in Dr. Davis’s auditorium was not the first, but I still had yet to read the novel. Appropriately enough, I had been toying with the idea of undertaking a Stephen King project wherein I would begin reading every novel of his that I have not yet read in publication order. I read Carrie last year — wait, was that last year… please hold, checking Goodreads… no, my goodness that was the first week of October 2018! — and had thought I would continue with ‘Salem’s Lot this year with The Shining to follow some time after. The people have spoken however and demanded I read The Shining immediately. So more than two decades after I should have read it like a good little film student, I finally read Stephen King’s The Shining from April 16-22. I did read it in less than a week and my first instinct upon snapping the book shut to test its thumpability was to chastise myself (and more?) for not doing it when I should have, but then I had to remind myself that more than two decades ago, I was working 40+ hours per week at a bookstore and shouldering a 16-unit university course load. The lesson here is be kind to yourself. Be forgiving. You’ve been through a lot.

I have read many Stephen King novels in my lifetime. Nowhere near half or probably even a quarter of his ever growing bibliography, but certainly more than any other author in existence. My first was The Stand, Complete and Unabridged. I have read Under the Dome, 11/22/63, Bag of Bones, Misery, On Writing, and several others. All of them have been great experiences. While reading The Shining, I struggled with this sense that I am reading one of the literary world’s horror classics upon which one of the cinema world’s horror classics was based and I was expecting the moon and more. “Wow, this is so cool,” I thought. “I’m having so much fun! This is amazing!” But was I? And was it? There is no question that The Shining is a great novel. Even though it is only the third of King’s massive oeuvre, King’s incredible skill at creating characters that capture the reader’s attention is on full display. The man understands people and what makes them who they are. Who we are. We recognize ourselves in them and isn’t that just the most frightening fucking thing?

I enjoy that King takes the scenic route to the destination. In the Hero’s Journey mythology, the World of Common Day is the first segment of the Journey and usually a brief one, especially in modern storytelling. The segment introduces the hero in their normal environment and is meant to give the reader the opportunity to relate to the hero or their situation which then helps the reader insert themselves into the story. Stephen King gives readers the veggies along with the meat and potatoes and I chew every bite slowly. In The Shining, I was a good hundred pages into the novel before I felt like other elements of the Journey were really beginning to take shape. At the very least, King’s Act One is juicy.

What would be the Journey’s second act of The Shining is where I began to flounder just a bit. I was still enjoying the heck out of the experience, but after seeing Jack Nicholson’s portrayal of Jack Torrance, a troubled writer and his descent into hysterical homicidal madness, that became the version of Jack Torrance I expected. It is not the Jack Torrance of the novel. In some way, I enjoy the person of Jack Torrance in the novel much more than the film version. I see too many elements of myself in him. Jack Nicholson’s portrayal is unsettling, theatrical, almost comical, but always frighteningly human. In the novel, the troubled but earnest father and husband is possessed by supernatural forces of the Overlook Hotel and forced to commit his heinous attacks. While this is certainly unpleasant, I was not afraid of the novel’s Jack Torrance the way I am still today afraid of the film’s Jack Torrance. It just did not affect me the way the film did and does.

Where the novel is far superior to the film is the establishment of the Torrance family. All three characters are developed and interesting whereas in the film, it just feels like the Jack Nicholson Show. In the novel, the family is strained to the point of breaking but the job at the Overlook Hotel gives them another chance and it seems to cement them together again as a family unit. Then Stephen King does what he does best nobody escapes unharmed. The conclusion of the novel is vastly different than the film, but every bit as tense.

Stephen King’s talents are clear and present if slightly raw still. Do not misunderstand me: slightly raw for Stephen King is still masterful compared to many of his contemporaries. I think maybe I just prefer Stanley Kubrick’s film ever so slightly. This is why I tend to prefer to read the novel first and why I even now kick myself for not generating the time to read this story back in college when Dr. Davis assigned it to the class. Would I feel differently about it? It is such a subjective thing that I cannot think my way into an honest answer. All I know is that I enjoy both experiences and am grateful to Dr. Davis for his class. Two decades later, I have finally completed the coursework, Professor.

A Rage for Order

It began nearly a decade ago with an act of police brutality, followed by a grassroots campaign that resulted in huge public protests, a revolution that spread throughout an entire region of the world. The political landscapes of multiple countries were upended, leaders were removed, tyrants were eliminated. For many people in far-removed countries who knew little to nothing of the Middle East beyond a vague impression that it has been a troubled region for their entire lifetimes, the 2011 Arab Spring uprisings brought many struggling nations into sharp relief. The protests were on our television screens and computer monitors. We watched real people, beaten and bloodied, carried to safety by their friends, sometimes by complete strangers, but always by their fellow citizens. For some of us, it was reminiscent of watching news footage of the aftermath of the terrorist attacks in New York City, Washington D.C., and Pennsylvania on September 11, 2001. The cause of the strife may have had a different immediate source, but the result looked terrifyingly familiar. People who normally would not have been interested in such events suddenly began to pay attention. It was much more difficult to dismiss the images as belonging to “them, not us”. These were not just a shadow population of a far away land. They had become real people who had faces, who wore clothes with logos we saw in our own stores, who were frightened and angry and had earned a better life than they were receiving. They were human beings. Still are.

My first exposure to Robert F. Worth’s A Rage for Order was in the Spring of 2016 when it was featured on Fareed Zakaria’s Global Public Square program on CNN. I have always enjoyed Mr. Zakaria’s program and his global citizen view of the world and its problems. I even have a coffee mug with the program’s logo on it. I call it my smart mug. Shortly after the program ended, I visited my local bookshop and bought a copy of Worth’s new book.

And then it sat on a shelf for nearly four years.

As much as I try to pay attention to what is going on in the world, there has been so much worldwide negativity during my adult life, which has been a smidge more than half of my lifetime so far, that it is exhausting to keep up and keep it all straight. I reached my tolerance limit and backed away. With the coming of the new calendar year, I reignited by interested in world events and endeavored to make this book the first of my new effort. (Note: I wrote this more than a month ago before the COVID-19 virus brought the world to a standstill. So that’s one more negative global story to add to the pile. Had I not read the book prior to the pandemic, I probably would not have read it at all.)

This is difficult subject matter, but I appreciate the way Robert Worth chose to tell this story. Instead of just being a textbook explanation of the events, Worth chooses individual people as the lens through which we see these events unfold. We meet a Libyan rebel who comes face to face with the man who tortured and murdered his brother and we witness him struggle with vengeance or forgiveness. It is one of those stories that makes me really sit and think about what I might do in that situation. Later, Worth takes us to Egypt and introduces us to a doctor who suffers an existential crisis as his political loyalties and his medical oath conflict. The Syrian chapter tells the story of two young women, best friends since childhood, but from different sects of Islam and the wedge it drives between them as the uprisings turn violent. It is a heartbreaking story that illuminated the senseless nature of such squabbles. These are human stories about real people and the absolute awfulness they endure. The stories made me mad, made me sad, made me wonder if things will ever, can ever get better.

What the book did not do is give me any hope whatsoever that the region is on the right path. There was a moment there during those Spring months of 2011 when we saw a glimmer of hope, baby steps in the right direction, but since then we have continued to see stories about atrocities in the Middle East and so it seems the region is backsliding. It is still the one region of the world to which I have no interest in traveling. My perception is that it is still just too dangerous and not at all friendly to Westerners. That is such a shame. There is so much history and beauty there. My hope is that before I die, the region will experience a Renaissance, an Enlightenment, and people like me can experience the rich culture of the Middle East firsthand. Until then, I will have to continue to feel sorrow and despair every time the news shows me another blood-drenched and smoke-choked scene of death and destruction due to government brutality or religious extremism.

If you have A Rage for Order on your shelf, put it on your nightstand, in your backpack, carry it with you to your local coffee shop (after COVID-19 clears up — again, I originally wrote this over a month ago). Make time to read it. Despite the way it made me feel, I am still grateful for the opportunity to experience the stories Robert Worth shared and grateful to the subjects for allowing him to tell me their tales.

20 books in 2020

How many books do you own that you have not yet read?

I just counted and I have 220 unread books on my bookshelves at home, a figure which plays nicely with the title of this article. I have written previously about my personal experience with tsundoku (積ん読) which the BBC gently identifies as “the art of buying books and never reading them”. I think many of us in the #bookstagram community are guilty of this. Guilty? That makes it sound like we are committing a crime. To say we suffer from or live with tsundoku may be a little closer to the mark because it suggests this condition may very well be on the spectrum of a mental illness. Nothing so extreme as schizophrenia or sociopathy, but certainly with one toe in the waters of obsessive compulsive disorder.

For me, it is a compulsion that I have been trying hard to control. Until last year, if I ever entered a bookstore, I would not leave empty-handed. If there is a series I am interested in reading, I will buy as much of the series as is available. What if I read the first volume of the series and do not like it? If it is a long-running series like Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time — fourteen volumes written over a period time just one week shy of twenty-three years — then I have just spent hundreds of dollars and taken up several feet of shelf space for something I will probably never read. I know for a fact that many others do this as well and quite a lot of us can be found on Instagram, posting photographs of our voluminous book collections in tiny, artsy cries for help. Sometimes I will luck into a great series like The Expanse by James S.A. Corey. I now own seven of the eight chunky volumes, but have only read the first two. Fortunately, I absolutely adore them and I am quite confident that I will enjoy the rest of the series because after reading reviews written by people I trust, it sounds like the series only gets better. But in general, I just buy books. I buy them as though owning them will keep me alive. I love having them around me. I am comforted by them. Even knowing that I will die before I have the chance to read some of these tomes, just having the author’s ideas within arm’s reach makes me feel good.

My book-related social media community exists mostly on Instagram — and not Goodreads, which surprised me — and it is through users like Whitney who manages @theunreadshelf Instagram account and www.theunreadshelf.com that I have begun to rein in my tsundoku. I have not bought a book for myself in at least half a year and I am really proud of that. Part of it hurts because I love wandering the aisles of a bookshop, pulling an interesting book off the shelf and trotting to the cashier with it, driving home with it resting comfortably on the passenger seat like a newly adopted puppy. Buying books supports the author who wrote it, the publisher and agent who gave it a chance, the bookstore who made it physically available for purchase. Not buying a book makes me feel as though I am not participating in that economy.

To combat that unpleasant feeling, I am trying to be more active in the @bookstagram community and with Goodreads and with this website. Word of mouth is another positive way to support authors and the books you love. This involves writing reviews — I say “review” but prefer to think of my articles as just my experience with the book because I do not follow the rigid book review format — posting photographs of books on Instagram, checking out books from my local library. Speaking of libraries, I signed up for my first library card in three decades at the beginning of this year. I have since checked out and read four books:

1. Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O’Brien — the subject of the January episode The Hero’s Journey Podcast — The Secret of NIMH

2. All You Need Is Kill by Hiroshi Sakurazaka — the subject of the February episode of The Hero’s Journey Podcast — Edge of Tomorrow

3. We Can Remember It For You Wholesale by Philip K. Dick — the subject of the March episode of The Hero’s Journey Podcast — Total Recall

4. The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler

Sadly, my library patronage has been temporarily halted due to the COVID-19 pandemic, but I intend to return as soon as it is safe to do so. My local library branch is about a mile and a half from my home so if I walk, I not only have the opportunity to visit the library and everything it has to offer, but I also squeeze in a three-mile exercise walk. And while I walk to the library, I listen to an audiobook on Audible so I am not only accomplishing exercise goals, but also reading and library goals at the same time. Hashtag multitasking.

I have digressed. The purpose of this article is to challenge myself to read twenty books that I already own before the end of the year 2020. As I stated at the top, I have 220 options. With the first quarter of the year now in the past, I have already made some progress in that four of the nine books I have read this year are from my Unread Shelf. The others are the aforementioned library books and a literary journal. I do not count the library books because I do not own them. I read them because I featured them and the movie based upon the books on my podcast. Did I mention I have a podcast? I have a podcast. The Hero’s Journey. Check it out! My co-host Jeff Garvin and I have a few laughs, a themed adult beverage or two, and break down popular books and films using Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey myth structure. We are really proud of our work and would love it if you would give us a chance to entertain you.

I digressed again. Darn it. 20 books for 2020. Okay, here goes:

1. The Water Knife by Paolo Bacigalupi (complete)

2. A Rage for Order by Robert F. Worth (complete)

3. Where Gods Fear to Go by Angus Watson (complete)

4. Anyone You Want Me To Be by John Douglas and Stephen Singular (complete)

5. The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson (complete)

6. The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi (complete)

   and here is where I have to challenge myself by actually choosing fourteen books off my shelf and committing to read them before the end of the year…

   …so here we are, not necessarily in this order…

7. The Lightness of Hands by Jeff Garvin (complete)

8. The Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu by Joshua Hammer (complete)

9. Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates (complete)

10. Badluck Way by Bryce Andrews (complete)

11. How to Find Love in a Bookshop by Veronica Henry (complete)

12. The Grey Bastards by Jonathan French

13. How Like a God by Brenda W. Clough (complete)

14. People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks (complete)

15. The Zone of Interest by Martin Amis (complete)

16. Hamilton: The Revolution by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jeremy McCarter (complete)

17. Bannerless by Carrie Vaughn (complete)

18. The Last Bookaneer by Matthew Pearl (complete)

19. Abaddon’s Gate, Book 3 of The Expanse by James S. A. Corey

20. ‘Salem’s Lot by Stephen King (complete)

By the gods, that is a list. Again, the goal here is to read books I already own. Once I finish them, I will either keep them if I absolutely love them or donate them to the library so someone else can read them. I visit Santa Barbara frequently and behind Brass Bear Brewing on Anacapa Street, there is a red telephone booth that has been converted into a Little Library. I have left books there before and they are always gone the next time I pass through. I don’t know if someone takes them to keep or if the local library swings by to collect them. It matters not to me as long as someone else is gaining access to these books.

So there it is! Twenty books I plan to read in 2020. Twenty books I already own. How many books are on your Unread Shelf? How many do you plan to read this year?

The Water Knife

All I wanted was a glass of water.

I usually have a beverage of some kind while I am reading. Maybe a tankard of ale for fantasy novels like Angus Watson’s excellent West of West trilogy. Wine feels right for elegant science fiction like anything written by Kim Stanley Robinson. Whisk(e)y for Raymond Chandler. But, while reading The Water Knife, I craved only water. It felt so precious and rare while reading this book due in large part to author Paolo Bacigalupi’s beautiful prose. Even while writing about a grim subject such as water wars between states in a near-future American Southwest, Bacigalupi paints such wonderful images of the parched and dusty land that just reading the words siphoned all of the moisture from my throat. Beer and wine did not at all sound appealing. Only a glass of water felt like the right beverage to have by my side.

Paolo Bacigalupi has forged a successful career writing in a science fiction sub-genre called climate fiction (or cli-fi for short, but do not ever call it that in my presence), a category I have only recently heard about. Some of the best books are reflections of the author’s time. Throughout the world right now, people are arguing about climate change. This is an ecologic argument on one side, an economic argument on the other, and a hostile one on both. Another issue at the core of society right now is the ever-widening wealth gap. Where I live in the United States, both subjects are frequently discussed by political candidates as they race toward the next election. In The Water Knife, Paolo Bacigalupi shines a blinding spotlight on both of these issues and establishes a firm connection between them. While I hope the novel’s setting does not come to pass, it certainly seems like we are racing down that road at a breakneck pace.

What makes The Water Knife so good and so frightening is the story’s plausibility and recognizable setting. While the novel is classified as science fiction, it is not a far future tale flung to the stars. This is a near-future story with so many familiar elements that ground the story in the world we know and set the hair on one’s neck abuzz with the sense of imminent danger. One character drives a Tesla and wears a bulletproof jacket from the Calvin Klein fashion brand. Another drinks Dos Equis beer and wears an air filter mask from REI. Current water companies like Aquafina get a nod and a real nonfiction book about the American Southwest’s difficulty with water, Desert Cadillac, is cited by frequently by multiple characters in a reverent tone. “It’s the bible when it comes to water,” says one of them.

As a water knife, Angel Velasquez does dirty work for the Southern Nevada Water Authority (SNWA) at the bidding of its ruthless boss, Catherine Case. A former gang member recruited from prison for his ability to respond to evolving situations, his aggression, and his intelligence, Angel’s reward for his service to Case is a permanent residence in Cypress 1, a new arcology complex being built in Las Vegas. The Cypress complexes are self-sufficient communities contained within a single high-rise building and are climate-controlled to protect occupants from the frequent dust storms and triple-digit temperatures outside. They include luxury residences, shopping centers, coffee shops and restaurants, parks with ponds and waterfalls. They are also protected by paramilitary security forces. One must have a pass to enter a Cypress arcology and to live in one, one must either be ridiculously wealthy or be like Angel Velasquez whose job it is to eliminate threats to SNWA’s water supply and cut the flow of water to cities that the SNWA determines no longer deserves it. Here is one of those familiar elements that should make the reader uncomfortable. The SNWA is a real entity formed in 1991 to acquire and manage water resources for southern Nevada.

When Angel is sent to Phoenix, Arizona to investigate rumors of a potential new water source, he encounters Lucy Monroe, a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist who is investigating the brutal murder of a lawyer who may have had information about the water source Angel is trying to secure. Lucy is tough and tenacious and motivated to get the story despite multiple warnings from both cops and shady characters to leave it alone. Lucy is the moral compass of the novel, struggling to reconcile what she wants to do with what she feels she has to do.

Maria Villarosa is a young refugee from Texas, brought to Phoenix by her father who scored a job as a construction worker on Phoenix’s own version of the Cypress arcology. Named Taiyang after the Chinese company that is building it, the Phoenix arcology offers the same amenities as the Vegas arcologies and people are just as desperate to earn the right to live there as they are in Vegas. An accident leaves Maria on her own, homeless, fighting to survive in a dying neighborhood ruled by a violent man nicknamed The Vet. Maria is a survivor and not about to give up. Living as a refugee on the streets has toughened her despite her young age.

While on the surface,The Water Knife is an entertaining story, I was affected by the examination of class struggle. The ultra-wealthy have migrated from their gated communities to the fortresses of the Cypress and Taiyang complexes. Everyone else must live outside, suffer through harmful dust storms, and endure triple-digit temperatures even after sunset. The inhospitable nature of the desert is reasserting itself and only the haves are living in anything resembling comfort. Everyone else has sunburns, wears masks to prevent their lungs from filling with dust, and waits in line at water pumps to purchase a gallon at a time. There are already places in the world where this is very nearly the truth and if one looks at the state of water supplies in the American Southwest and California, one can imagine it happening here as well not too far in the future. It is a real problem with which our society is faced and one that feels too big to comprehend, too far along to correct. What worries me is that it is also the kind of problem that often results in violent rebellion.

One of Bacigalupi’s inspirations was Marc Reisner’s 1986 book Cadillac Desert: The American West and its Disappearing Water, which examines the danger of the region’s diminishing water supply. As a child growing up in my home state of California, I can recall droughts resulting in water rationing. We recently exited a seven-year period of drought that inspired many changes in landscaping practice. Where once verdant lawns and lush trees adorned housing lots, I now see many more native desert plants and succulents, more dirt and rockscapes. While it does return the region to a more natural environment, it probably will not prevent the grim future Bacigalupi portends in The Water Knife because humans are short-lived, selfish beings that will destroy everything around them to ensure their own comfort.

I tend to read a book, enjoy it, maybe write about it, and then move on, but this book has stayed with me and affected my routine. I have always been conscious of my water usage, but now I am even more careful. When once upon a time I may have dumped unused water down the sink, I will now take it outside and water plants with it. I take shorter showers. I am more conservative when washing dishes. Perhaps the most notable change in me, however, has been my increased intake of water. I now seem to drink water as though it will soon be taken from me. If we are not careful, it may be taken from all of us.

The Witcher: House of Glass

With Netflix’s new series The Witcher now available, I fully have the bug again. I am halfway through my viewing of season one and am enjoying the show. During the last ten years, The Witcher franchise has surged to prominence thanks in large part to Polish video game developer CD Projekt Red’s trilogy of games. Andrzej Sapkowski’s novels were relatively unknown in the United States before the first game was released in 2007. A year later, Orbit Books, the science fiction and fantasy imprint of Hachette Book Group, released The Last Wish, a mass market paperback short story collection originally published in Poland in 1993. A cult following developed in the United States following in the footsteps of the existing fandom in Europe and in recent years, has evolved into a popular fan base.

My own experience with The Witcher began some time around 2007-2008 when I was listening to an episode of, I believe, The PC Gamer Podcast. One of the hosts was describing the main character as something akin to a Jedi in a fantasy genre setting. I was strapped for cash at the time but I put the title in my memory banks for future reference. Since then, I have played and loved all three Witcher video games, racking up a total play time of two hundred and eighty eight hours between the three titles. They are really good, you guys. Really, really good. It is such a vibrant world with familiar fantasy themes and imagery but presented in its own way and with Eastern European mythological flavor. Original author Andrzej Sapkowski has written eight novels so if you want to root your experience firmly in the franchise’s original source material and eschew the expanded universe of games and graphic novels, you have plenty of stories to devour.

I have read The Last Wish and have a few of the novels sitting on my bookshelf, patiently awaiting my attention, but today, I read the first graphic novel featuring the Witcher, House of Glass. The graphic novels are not written by Andrzej Sapkowski, but are original stories by Paul Tobin. Produced by comic book publisher Dark Horse Comics in partnership with the game developer CD Projekt Red, they are collections of individual issues of the monthly comic book series that was introduced in 2014. The five issues collected in House of Glass tell the story of the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia meeting a hunter at his riverside campsite. Over a meager meal of scrawny fish and some wine more elegant than the scene required, the hunter tells Geralt the sad tale of the premature demise of his beautiful wife Marta who was taken by bruxae (powerful vampires in Witcher lore) and converted into one of their own. The hunter points to a nearby hill atop which stands a lone silhouette, gown and long hair waving in the breeze. “That’s her, watching us from up the hill,” the hunter says. Though the hunter says Marta is now a bruxa, she does not harm him. She just watches. The next morning, Geralt and the hunter decide to travel together. Safety in numbers and all that. Their journey draws them to a creepy house deep in a dark forest. The hunter sees his deceased wife standing silent on the balcony, watching. Then she is gone. The rest of the story follows Geralt and the hunter as they explore the house, the contents of which are much more than they expected.

This is a spooky story well-suited to the Witcher universe. Being the comic book introduction of the character, writer Paul Tobin inserts explanations of the Witcher’s special powers into the story via dialogue between Geralt and his companion. This allows Tobin to educate readers new to the Witcher universe while crafting an exciting story for veteran fans. Artist Joe Querio’s work is just right for the setting with lots of good shadow work and great facial expressions.

If you are curious about the world of the Witcher and do not have the dozens of hours to spend playing the video games as I have, do not have a subscription to Netflix to watch the new Henry Cavill-led series, and do not have time to read one of the eight novels, this graphic novel will be a great hour-long-ish introduction to the world, the lore, and the character. Having experienced so much of the world as I have, I can tell you that the magic and mystery on display in this graphic novel are just a hint of the expansive, creative, and engaging thrills at the heart of the Witcher’s world, so if you like what you see here, I suspect you will enjoy the other products in the franchise. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to press play on the next episode of the Netflix series while also playing the third video game while also listening to the Audible version of book two and sipping some Temerian Ale. GIVE ME MORE WITCHER!

The Shadow of What Was Lost

In early November, I returned home after a vacation to Japan with a brief stop on the Hawaiian island of Maui on the return trip. Travel and experiencing a different culture is simultaneously stressful and rewarding. Despite being long infatuated with Japan, I had never traveled to an Asian country before and worried that my attempts to speak the language and navigate the cities would be disastrous. A short time after arrival, my concerns melted away in a wondrous bliss that persisted through the beautiful modern metropolis of Tokyo, the picturesque original capital of Kyoto with its myriad shrines and old castles, and on to the vibrant, youthful Osaka. I fell in love with the people, the place, and the sensation of Japan. It was everything I wanted it to be and I was reluctant to leave. During the journey home, we stopped on Hawaii where our final adventure was rappelling down a rainforest waterfall. It was an amazing trip enjoyed with two of my favorite people. I felt more relaxed than I had been in hundreds of weeks after battling through a challenging and wearisome period of time at work. I returned home happy and tired and with a renewed list of personal priorities.

One of those priorities is to revitalize this book blog which has long sat neglected. As co-host of The Hero’s Journey Podcast, my creator bio identifies me as a book blogger. Of late, I have been struggling with that identification because the aforementioned challenging and lengthy period of time at the office had prevented me from doing much of anything beyond work. If you are a listener of the podcast, you may recall that during one of our segments, my co-host Jeff and I discuss books we have been reading, movies or television shows we have recently watched, and video games we have been playing. I often blame “the day job” for being the reason I have little to contribute during the segment. The trip to Japan was a desperate escape and upon my return, I was inspired to make a drastic career change. After fourteen years with the company, I resigned my position. This is a scary period, but I am also excited. I feel renewed and I look forward to exploring new opportunities. I am also happy that I can return to writing, a pursuit I have always enjoyed, but has had to take a far backseat in my life for far too long. I am rusty. My vocabulary has atrophied and I probably lost track of my style, but this is where I start working those muscles again.

A few weeks ago, I posted a poll in my Instagram stories and asked people to cast their vote for the next book I would read. The options were Neal Stephenson’s Seveneves and James Islington’s The Shadow of What Was Lost. It was an experiment with zero risk because I wanted to read both books so either result would have been equally satisfying. The People chose fantasy over science fiction by a 4:3 ratio and so I began my journey through Islington’s debut novel. The first volume of the Licanius Trilogy, The Shadow of What Was Lost is a chunky book at 693 pages for the Orbit imprint U.S. hardcover edition. This is one of those sweeping epic fantasies that started with Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, was revitalized in the 1990s by authors like Robert Jordan and George R.R. Martin, and continued to gain steam in this century. One would think that with so many epic fantasy series out there, the bubble would burst but so far, it seems there is no lack of thirst for these massive tomes. The audience is as broad as the pool of authors feeding them and with authors like Brandon Sanderson leading the charge, it seems epic fantasy has a lot of life left.

My first experience with The Shadow of What Was Lost came a few years ago when the publisher, Orbit Books (a science fiction and fantasy imprint of Hachette Book Group) published a sample chapter on their website. It turned out to be effective advertising, at least on me, because I wish-listed the book right away and made sure I obtained a copy upon release. Due to a ridiculous TBR however, I only just now managed to find the time to read, but I am pleased to say I enjoyed the experience.

The initial few pages gave me a bit of a Harry Potter vibe what with the setting essentially being a school for magic users, but the similarity stops there. In short order, The Shadow of What Was Lost becomes dark and tragic in a way Harry Potter is not, even at its darkest point. I suppose this is typical for the epic fantasy genre and if I really think about it, it fits right in with the Hero’s Journey. The tragedy is the hero’s call to adventure, the event that makes it impossible for the hero to continue living their normal life. It pushes the hero out of the nest and forces them to plummet or fly.

Islington provides four primary characters from whose point of view we experience this story of discovery. I enjoyed the characters and could relate to all of them to some degree, but I find Davian the most interesting. He is the fish out of water. The journey he undertakes is arduous and his growth throughout the novel is substantial. It is exactly the kind of development that makes the Hero’s Journey such a cultural constant century after century. My only gripe might be that the way Davian obtains his abilities seemed a little too easy, but the author did provide an explanation so while I might not entirely care for it, at least it saves Davian from the dreaded, worn out Mary Sue label.

The world Islington has built is thoughtful and interesting. People like Davian’s friends Wirr and Asha are known as Gifted, able to channel an energy source known as Essence to various effect, like healing injury or conjuring bolts of destructive force. Because of their frightful power, the Gifted are mistrusted and persecuted by those without the Gift. A rebellion against the Gifted decades ago resulted in their power being severely limited and their activities being closely monitored by Administration, an organization that takes Gestapo-like pleasure in carrying out their duties of hunting down and punishing Gifted who step out of line. Davian used to be able to channel Essence, but as his final exams loom, he finds he has lost his abilities and does not understand why. His Essence impotence motivates him to undertake his journey and abandon the only world he has ever known. I liked being on the road with Davian, imagining his surroundings, feeling his sorrows and his triumphs. He is a good person, but there are seeds planted here that suggest things may not stay that way during the next two books. I am excited to see where he ends up.

Islington does a great job of introducing immediate threats to challenge Davian and his companions while also teasing a greater antagonist to be confronted later. The journey ends with an exciting climax that reveals the answers to several of my questions, but introduces several more that will surely inspire me to read the second and third volumes of the trilogy.

California and the Unread Shelf

I bought this book on a whim five years ago. If I am being honest with myself, I buy most books on a whim which is why I own more books than I will probably be able to read before I die. During the last year, I engaged in an unread shelf project which challenges readers to stop buying books and just read what they already own. I am sure there are many varieties to this challenge, like not permitting oneself to buy a new book until five owned and unread books have been read, but I have not constrained myself in such a way. I am feeling this one out. I have not purchased a book for myself in months — at all this year? — and I feel pretty good about that. The act of purchasing a book always comes with a sense of joy until I return home and remember that I have nowhere to put a new book. Remorse ensues and book is piled on the floor. This cycle repeated dozens, maybe hundreds, of times until I decided it was time to stop. I reviewed my bookcases, boxed up books I had already read but had a weird sensation of wanting to keep as well as books I decided I probably was never going to read and donated them to one of those free library kiosks one finds scattered about. The one I discovered is behind a little beer brewery which seems fitting since I am usually inebriated when I buy books which is probably why I buy so many on the aforementioned whim. We seem to be uncovering the root of the matter, do we not?

When I started writing this book-centric blog however many years ago it was, I had grand plans. Stars in my eyes and whatnot. I was going to write an article about every book I read and before long, I would have a vast repository of book reviews, babblings, and relatable stories that people would discover and enjoy reading. For many reasons, things have not panned out quite like that. I am constantly reminded how difficult writing is. Sometimes, I sit down and the words just flow, but it seems most times I slog uphill in the rain under heavy machine gun fire. I doff my cap to those book bloggers who are able to put in the time and effort required to maintain a successful blog and I am doubly impressed by those who are able to make a career of it. That is the dream, is it not? Well done, you.

Now, to the book at hand: California by Edan Lepucki. I bought this at my local Barnes & Noble some months after its 2014 release. It was on the Discover Great New Writers shelf which was a frequent stop any time I entered the store. The book jacket said something about a young couple escaping the crumbling city of Los Angeles and heading for the hills to survive the collapse of the nation. With Cormac McCarthy’s The Road and John Hillcoat’s excellent film adaptation still pinging around in my head, my interest was piqued. I enjoy the apocalypse genre of literature and film and was intrigued by the fact that in this story, the apocalypse is not nuclear or extraterrestrial, but climatic and economic. The survivors are not wandering a desolate wasteland plagued by two-headed beasts and irradiated water. Frida and Cal escape to a forest, commandeer an abandoned shack, and manage to survive as well as they can. They are visited by a wandering trader who stops by regularly with supplies on offer. They encounter a nearby family who share survival tips and help the young couple along. Things seem to be going as well as they can, but Frida and Cal are frequently warned not to stray too far from their plot of land. Bandits may be lurking in the woods and a mysterious settlement surrounded by a fortification of ominous Spikes lies not too far away. When Frida and Cal ask questions about this settlement, the responses they receive are cagey and foreboding. When a series of events threatens their tenuous sense of security, Frida and Cal venture toward the settlement for help. Are the inhabitants hostile or are the Spikes merely protecting a friendly but frightened group of people?

My familiarity with the genre fed my expectations and I was pleased that the story defied those expectations. Frida and Cal are both presented as POV characters in alternating chapters so readers become acquainted with each of them and see the other through their partner’s eyes. This is a slow but steady character study exploring just how rapidly people can grow complacent, how much of themselves they are willing to sacrifice when presented with the smallest comfort after enduring tremendous hardship. How would I respond in such a situation? After reading the novel, I am still pondering the answer. That is what I love about the post-apocalypse genre. It is a fantasy of being able to start over without the worries of the modern world. It is a return to basic needs and wilderness survival. In this genre, mankind tends to squad up with like-minded individuals collaborating in a tribal environment. No gods or kings, only Man. Of course, that is a short-lived dream and someone always asserts authority and claims control of the people. What is most interesting about this feature of the genre is who rises to the top and how everyone else reacts to it. I enjoyed this storyline in California. The who was unexpected, as was the how. The conclusion surprised me with its truth. It is probably how things would go if this were to actually happen and that, not the book’s conclusion itself, is disappointing. I find myself believing we would do better, but I know I am just fooling myself. We are where we are because of what we are and no world shattering event will change that.

This novel is much more The Road, much less Mad Max. Both have their place and I just happened to be in a The Road kind of mood. If you are too, I think you will enjoy a steady journey through California.

Elantris and the Tsundoku Condition

I first heard Brandon Sanderson’s name when he was hired to complete Robert Jordan’s mammoth The Wheel of Time fantasy series after Mr. Jordan passed away in 2007 — gee, has it been 11 years already? The Wheel of Time was a favorite series of a few friends of mine, but I never tackled it and so I missed my first potential exposure to Sanderson’s talent. I then started seeing Sanderson’s name mentioned in discussion forums like Shelfari and Goodreads and hearing about him on bookcentric podcasts like Sword & Laser. Then some commentators I trust began shouting his name from the mountaintops after Sanderson’s The Way of Kings was released. I started doing something weird. I bought The Way of Kings, the first book of a series called The Stormlight Archive, but I was not able to read it yet. Then book two of The Stormlight Archive, Words of Radiance — what a beautiful title — was released and I bought that, still having not read The Way of Kings. Then the third title, Oathbreaker, hit store shelves and I exchanged my paycheck for it. Here is the truly bizarre aspect of this entire situation: I still have not read any of them. Is it not madness to buy the second and third volumes of a series when one has not yet read the first? There is a Japanese term for this practice of continuing to buy books but not reading them: 積ん読 or tsundoku. Here is an applicable quote attributed to American author Alfred Edward Newton:

Even when reading is impossible, the presence of books acquired produces such an ecstasy that the buying of more books than one can read is nothing less than the soul reaching towards infinity … we cherish books even if unread, their mere presence exudes comfort, their ready access reassurance.

Right? If you are reading this, you are probably an avid reader like me and nodded in agreement while reading that quote. Welcome, brethren. So here I was with this condition I now know is called tsundoku and a heap of unread Brandon Sanderson novels. Three beautiful hardcover volumes comprised of three thousand three hundred forty two pages. It is intimidating. Then a colleague gave me a copy of Elantris, Brandon Sanderson’s debut novel. Unlike much of Sanderson’s later work, Elantris is a single story encased in a single volume. Being the man’s debut novel, I decided this was the best place to begin exploring his work and so on a warm, midsummer night, I entered the gates of Elantris. Holy cow, smoke, and Toledo, y’all. I enjoyed this story so much!

When the beloved Prince Raoden of Arelon wakes up one morning to discover he has been afflicted with a magical disease, his father the king secretly exiles him to the nearby walled city of Elantris. Once a majestic and beautiful city inhabited by people with godlike powers, Elantris is now a festering prison populated by the rotting unfortunates slung low by the disease known as the Shaod. Raoden must now fight the debilitating effects of his disease as he attempts to investigate the cause of the fall of Elantris with the hope of restoring the city to its former glory and healing himself and the hundreds of others with his condition. The Shaod brings madness quickly though so Raoden has little time before he is lost forever. Outside the walls, Teoish princess Sarene arrives in the kingdom to discover the man she was to marry has mysteriously died. She suspects foul play and conspiracy and begins an investigation to discover what really happened to her betrothed. As she works, she allies herself with a group of nobles with designs to overthrow the corrupt king of Arelon and becomes embroiled in a dangerous political coup just as the external forces of neighboring Fjordell threaten to assault Arelon. High Priest Hrathen of Fjordell has seen what war does to a kingdom his nation means to subjugate and so has just ninety days to peacefully convert the people of Arelon to his nation’s religion before the powerful armies of Fjordell arrive to bring destruction and death to the unfaithful.

All three primary characters are so enjoyable that I found myself conflicted when a chapter switched perspective from one character to another. I wanted to remain with each of them and continue exploring their story and their world, but I was also excited to learn more about the other two characters. This inspired me to read deeply and quickly as I thirsted for more information about each character. Even Hrathen, who is supposed to be the villain, is so deserving of empathy that I found myself struggling to hate him even as he executed his plans to bring about the conquest of the kingdom of Arelon. Prince Raoden is exactly the kind of leader I wish to be: decisive, intelligent, earnest, clever, empathetic. I loved his chapters and rooted so strongly for him. Sarene is a wonderful character, a strong female protagonist in a patriarchal society, fighting for truth and for civil rights in a kingdom foreign to her.

If you enjoy fantasy novels that are not just all about sword fights, stories that include intrigue and clever magic systems, read Elantris. If you have not read a Brandon Sanderson novel yet, this one will make you a fan and is an excellent example of his talent as a storyteller. I have a lot of Sanderson still on my shelf and the tsundoku still rages, but reading Elantris is a positive first step toward controlling it. One page at a time.

My Italian Bulldozer

Alexander McCall Smith is the prolific writer of novels, children’s books, and academic texts probably best known for his bestselling mystery series The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency. He has a vast audience of international readers who buy millions of copies of his books. He has built a thirty-plus year career writing at a rapid pace and publishing a book or more each year, at least for the last two decades. When My Italian Bulldozer was published in 2016, it was one of just five books bearing his name that were published that year. After reading My Italian Bulldozer, I wonder if he maybe ought to slow down a bit.

The journey is rough from the beginning. The clunky opening chapter features three chronological jumps backward to recount different parts of the same conversation between author Paul and his editor Gloria about the dissolution of Paul’s four-year romantic relationship with Becky who has run off with her personal trainer. The time jumps were unnecessary and confusing, and the narrative structure of the chapter would have been stronger without the pointless chronological trickery. This conversation could have been a great opportunity to establish the two characters involved, but instead I spent half of my time wondering why the chapter was being presented in such an odd manner. When a reader begins a book, they want to trust the author but after this first chapter, my trust of McCall Smith was already tenuous.

After the first chapter, Paul crosses the threshold into the main adventure of the book. This part of the story begins well enough as Paul, the author of a popular series of food culture books, is on his way to Italy to spend three weeks in the Tuscan countryside putting the final touches on his most recent book, Paul Stuart’s Tuscan Table. This premise tugs at the reader’s adventurous and romantic strings, hinting at that travel fantasy so many of us share, that desire for true freedom. I took a hesitant, hopeful step toward trusting the author. It was all downhill from there.

A series of completely ridiculous scenarios reveal an unlikable main character with terrible decision-making skills. It is as though McCall Smith has a collection of flashcards of writing prompts and drew from the deck at random to construct the story. Once Paul arrives at his destination, the hilltop Tuscan town of Montalcino, he experiences a series of romantic entanglements that reveal Paul to be one of the most fickle characters I have ever seen. Add to this some awful dialogue featuring sentence structures no real speaking human uses, an American character who uses British speech patterns and lingo, and season with a dollop of borderline misogyny. I present to you a real line of dialogue from Alexander McCall Smith’s My Italian Bulldozer:

“She must have been imagining things. Women can be funny about bulldozers.”

What the hecking flip? Let me climb out onto a limb and claim that the vast majority of people, regardless of gender, do not think about bulldozers enough to form any kind of opinion about them. And there is certainly no foundation to support such a generalization about women. By this point in the book, my trust in the author had flatlined but this made me want to throw the book across the room. The dialogue might have been acceptable had the author been constructing a character who expresses a low opinion of women or an archaic view of gender roles, but this is the only such statement or action by that character nor does any other character respond to it in any way. Not to agree with it, not to challenge it. Instead, it is just a stupid line of dialogue that says nothing about anybody except the author.

I generally do not notice an author’s style unless it is exceptionally clever or exceptionally bad. The latter applies here. Granted, this is the first and likely only Alexander McCall Smith book I have or will ever read, but after reading My Italian Bulldozer, I have decided his grade school teachers never uttered the phrase “show, don’t tell”. And what is this thing he does where he states what a character is thinking and then immediately has the character say what they were thinking? It is as though his editor told him the book was too short –my paperback copy is still only 232 pages with half-page character headers—and instructed him to write more. To make matters worse, on some occasions, the thought-then-spoken dialogue is followed by further thought of the character explaining the purpose of their dialogue. To whom is this explanation directed? Does the author not trust his readers to figure out his clever prose or is he just padding his word count? I do not know which offense is worse.

The titular bulldozer is a largely pointless gimmick but does pay off at the end in a completely unsatisfying way. There are so many missed opportunities in this story. The winemaker, whose life we are told is drastically changed by the bulldozer, should have had a much bigger role in the story. He could have been the perfect mentor character, helping Paul navigate the romantic subplots using winemaking and cooking as metaphors for the various stages of love and loss. It was an opportunity for a strong friendship that would have made the this final bulldozer scene a triumphant one for the winemaker and for Paul, but because every character in this novel is as structurally sound as wet toilet paper, this climactic moment and all moments leading up to it mean nothing.

By the book’s flaccid conclusion, I was left with my head in my hands. I rarely feel the urge to abandon a book I am not enjoying, wanting to give the author the every possible chance to turn things around, but this is a book I would have dumped had I not been reading it for a book club. An inconsistent protagonist, weak supporting characters, bad dialogue, and an unsatisfying story make My Italian Bulldozer a disappointing novel I would like to forget but will probably remember for a long time so I can tell all of my friends and family to skip it.

The Travelers

I consider myself an equal opportunity reader but on occasion, I come across a book belonging to a genre I have barely, if ever, touched. I was recently in my local Barnes & Noble Booksellers store, an unnecessary but still tasty cafe mocha in my hand, ambling along the aisles of discounted hardcover novels at the front of the store. There were the usual suspects filling the overstock shelves. James Patterson always has several titles in this section because the man writes a book a month it seems. One or two of Nora Roberts's recent releases beckoned passersby with their colorful covers. A stack of Stephen King waited to creep the heck out of someone. This time, however, my eye was drawn to a new cover I had never seen before, a pale blue background picturing the undersides of passenger airliners in a pattern that made it look like desktop wallpaper. In bold red, an author's name with which I was unfamiliar, and the book title which partially covered the face of a man in a suit standing in a pose that suggested he was on his way somewhere but something to his left had startled him. Next to the man and facing away from him and me, a woman in a coat with upturned collar looking like she is probably up to something. I cannot explain what about this image intrigued me, but I shifted my cafe mocha to my other hand, picked up the book and read the front cover flap. A spy thriller. I pursed my lips in contemplation. I enjoy spy films--the Mission: Impossible series, the underappreciated Brad Pitt/Robert Redford film Spy Game, and the film that made Brangelina a thing, Mr. and Mrs. Smith--but I could not recall ever reading a spy novel. I have seen several James Bond films, but I have never read any of Ian Fleming's work. Did I read Patriot Games in high school? I do not recall finishing it, probably because school work got in the way as it got in the way of everything. No, I could not think of a single spy novel I had ever read or even really wanted to read yet I held in my hands a hardcover copy of Chris Pavone's The Travelers and I was inexplicably drawn to it. And it was heavily discounted. And I had a coupon that specifically stated it could be applied to my entire purchase including already discounted items. I had consumed half of my cafe mocha and it was fueling a blood sugar spike that made me feel reckless and adventurous. Into the shopping basket the book went.

I started reading The Travelers within a few weeks of bringing it home, which is rare. Usually when I buy a book, I bring it home and it lives in a stack of unread books for a ridiculous period of time. For some reason, I wanted to read this one as soon as possible. If you intend to read The Travelers, dedicate time to it. I started the book in April and finished July 3 and during that time, I read three other books and listened to four audiobooks. Audiobooks are my drive time entertainment (Safety first, kids! Don't read and drive!) and the three physical books were for a book club so those were priority. It is not as though The Travelers did not hold my interest. I just made the mistake of reading it just I began participating in the book club so my leisure reading time was practically nonexistent. So learn from my mistake and mainline The Travelers. There are enough moving parts here that the story deserves your full attention. I enjoyed the story, but because I read it in fits and starts, sometimes with several days or even weeks between reading sessions. I would find myself lost and trying to recall who certain important supporting characters were. Once I focused my attention on the book though, I was so entertained by it that I read the final sixty percent of it in less than a week.

Will Rhodes is a travel writer working for the New York-based print magazine TRAVELERS. During an assignment in St Emilion, France, Will meets an attractive young Australian journalist named Elle Hardwick. The attraction is mutual and intense, but Will is a married man. Still, Elle's allure is powerful and he has a difficult time maintaining his composure and his fidelity. Unfortunately for Will, he meets Elle again on assignment in Argentina where Will's life is fundamentally changed and he embarks on a dangerous and deadly globetrotting adventure. This is one of those "trust nobody" situations and Will learns his lessons the hard way.

The Travelers progresses at a rapid pace with many scenes lasting just a page or two before the reader is whisked away to a new location or a new character perspective, each of which endeavor to tangle the web and confound the reader. Some scenes were so brief and so vague that when they were over, I was left with a "wait, what?" sensation. While that might discourage some readers, it invigorated me. I just knew that unnamed character who just waltzed into the story and said something cryptic was going to pop up again later and I wanted to know more so I kept reading, often well past my bedtime. The conclusion of the story is exciting and satisfying and I was sorry when it was over. The book is a fun ride and I am happy that I finally found a healthy chunk of time to devote to it. Chris Pavone is definitely on my watch list now and I want to check out his debut novel, The Expats. 

Blue Mars

It took me two decades, but I finally did it. I read the final volume of Kim Stanley Robinson's landmark Mars trilogy. I had read the first two volumes, Red Mars and Green Mars, in college but then life got in the way and I never managed to start the third book. I do not often make New Year's resolutions but this year, I resolved to finish the trilogy. After so many years, I was concerned that I would not remember any of the characters or events of the first two hefty stories and the third volume would be nebulous and inaccessible. Kim Stanley Robinson adeptly reintroduces his loyal readers to the key members of the First Hundred, the original colonists of Mars, and of the pivotal moments of the previous two volumes, weaving in references to the discoveries, the betrayals, the revolution. Before too long, I was deep into book three, living on Mars with Sax and Ann and Michel and Maya, worrying with them about the future of their new home planet and the society they created.

The longevity treatments have successfully extended the lifespans of the First Hundred and those who followed them, with many of the original colonists living more than two centuries. Back on Earth, overpopulation and a great flood send hoards of immigrants fleeing to the new Mars with its forests, oceans, and clean air. So what happens when population booms and the elderly are living long lives in defiance of nature and not passing on like they are supposed to? Now you have a crisis of culture and ideology as well as population. Blue Mars explores these themes along with the environmental question of whether it is right to propagate to new planets in the name of human survival. As with the previous novels in the trilogy, chapters are presented from the perspective of alternating characters, giving readers an equal exposure to the variety of scientific ideas and socio-political philosophies that haunt the people driving the future of the planet. In addition to members of the First Hundred, readers also hear from their children, themselves now advanced in age thanks to the longevity treatments. They are Martians with full lifetimes lived as the first humans native to a planet that is not Earth and they have very different goals from their parents, conflicting ideologies for their planet.

During this time, we also learn that mankind has now successfully established colonies on other planets as well as Mars and that there are outposts in the asteroid belt. The scope of the story grows beyond just the conflict between Mars and Mother Earth as now multiple planets, each with their nationalistic pride and needs, compete for resources in a solar system that, due to improved interplanetary travel technology, is rapidly shrinking in size. It is analogous to the consequence of commercial air travel on Earth in the mid-20th century. When it takes less than a day to travel to the other side of the world when it used to take months, the world shrinks dramatically and cultures homogenize.

Kim Stanley Robinson is one of my favorite authors as I have stated in my articles on Shaman and Aurora. He explains enough of the science--or invents it--that the story sounds plausible and he then surrounds that science with developed characters with whom I find myself relating in so many ways. His science fiction stories are not just a speculation of wild possibilities. They are human stories at their core. The best stories are and Robinson's stories number among the best I have ever enjoyed.

The Bookshop on the Corner

I was looking forward to reading the hopeful story of a young woman who loses her job, takes a risk, and finds her way against all odds. Instead, this is a story of young woman who clears every hurdle with apparent ease because she is cute. This novel is the literary version of a Hallmark Channel movie. Some folks love Hallmark Channel movies and that is perfectly fine. I am not one of those folks and so I found this book frustrating which is also fine. Author Jenny Colgan has built a bestselling career out of writing novels of this style and cheers to her for that. There is an audience for this style of book, but I am not a part of it.

Nina Redmond is a young librarian who is kicked to the curb when her library branch in Birmingham, England is shuttered in favor of a new media center. Now jobless, she has to decide what to do. Nina is a book hoarder with stacks of books choking the pathways of her home and in this trait, I identified with Nina. However, her roommate has had it up to here with the clutter and demands Nina sort it out. Being an avid reader who loves the challenge of suggesting the perfect book for her library guests, Nina decides she will continue to pursue a book-related career and convert her collection of books into a bookshop. She buys a van (I am thinking this van is what we in America might call a box truck), converts the inside into a mobile bookshop , and moves to the Scottish Highlands to cater to the village folk who have not had access to a bookshop or library in many years. While I admired Nina's gumption, this is where the novel falls apart for me.

The entire venture is just too easy for Nina. She never seems to struggle. She says she is struggling, but we never see it. Her bank account is never in the red even after buying a van and moving to a new country. She finds her new residence without having to search or worry about being homeless and it isn't a drafty one room apartment above the pub. No, her new home is a barn that has just been converted into the perfect single lady's home with brand new appliances and 5-star-hotel-quality furnishings. And of course the owner is leasing it for well under market value. And of course the owner is a single, hunky Scottish farmer who harbors an attraction to Nina. I understand this is a fantasy novel, but for the love of books, let me see the hero on the brink of complete failure for a while before she triumphs. Make Nina have to take that cold and noisy room above the pub for a while and be hungry sometimes. Make Nina have to sleep in the truck a few nights and cry herself to sleep, frightened and alone, as she wonders if she has made an awful mistake. Let me see her go several days without a customer because she chose to settle in a small village with a limited customer population instead of what seems like every person in the village clawing at her truck for new books every day because they apparently have unlimited disposable income. Let me see her go from destitute to success through hard work and difficult trials. Instead she arrives in the storybook village, finds her awesome home, and is an instant success the moment she opens the bookshop to the public. The conflicts Nina does experience, some of which are subplots that are discarded without ceremony when the author or protagonist grows bored of them, are superficial compared to the conflicts she should have experienced to make this a journey a fulfilling adventure. 

I purchased this novel because I had just finished reading the challenging The Handmaid's Tale and needed a palette cleanser. While this was an easy read, it was not a satisfying one. I am glad that I expanded my horizons a bit with a genre I do not often touch, but as with each time I read one of these, I am reminded why I do not often read them.