Blast from the Past: Why I Support the Human Wave

Originally written in 2012.

"All the science fiction authors I like are either dead or dying."

Sub.Spike, our father, said this to me the other day, and I don't think he's the only fan who's in danger of dropping out the moment Jerry Pournelle and Larry Niven finally leave this mortal coil. As the cold, hard numbers reveal, "literary" science fiction has been hemorrhaging readers for years. Why? In large part because, to quote the folks who've bumped into Brad Torgersen at various literary cons, "Everything written since (insert year here) has been annoying political crap!"

If you are moderate, libertarian, or conservative, perusing the science fiction/fantasy section of the bookstore these days is like navigating a minefield. While there are writers and publishers out there who don't go out of their way to insult what is in fact the American majority - and I will discuss those in a minute - I can't tell you the number of times I've been thrown completely out of a promising story by anti-Christian, anti-military or anti-conservative agitprop.

Which is not to say that there aren't conservative authors who lay their messages on a bit thick. There are -- but in my experience, those writers tend to be pretty upfront about their intentions. They don't have the political Tourette Syndrome that drives many leftist writers to bitch about "the theocrats on the Religious Right," "the patriarchy" or "the eeeeeeevil Republicans" in entirely unexpected - and inappropriate - contexts. A conservative author knows he's in the minority in the literary world, so his conservatism is painfully self-conscious. A leftist author, on the other hand, occupies a position of privilege -- and on that perch, it's very easy to assume that everyone thinks the same way you do.

The disaffection of "legacy" fans like our father, however, goes much deeper than mere politics. As Sarah Hoyt has noted in her recent posts, much science fiction today looks upon human nature with a decidedly cynical, pessimistic eye. There are two different strains in this school of thought - the transhumanists believe that we should use science and technology (and the force of the state) to drive the imperfections out of mankind, while the more ecologically-minded assert that technology has allowed humanity to become a blight upon the Earth and should be discarded - but the underlying belief is consistent in either case: People are stupid and irredeemably corrupt.

The problem with this perspective is that it doesn't reflect ordinary American attitudes. Most American readers, I think, believe that technology has been - and can continue to be - a boon to the human race, but they would also like that technology to be restrained by traditional ethical norms. Most Americans are also unreconstructed modern humanists (whether they are secular or religious). On the whole, they believe people are good -- not perfect, mind, but still capable of achieving greatness. Heroes still exist and there is still hope for the future -- that's the average American's worldview in a nutshell, and it's what he looks for in his fiction.

To my mind, the term "Human Waver" denotes a writer - or reader - who represents the afore-described proletariat. Human Wavers seek to bring back optimism, heroism, and simple declarative sentences -- but more importantly, they want science fiction to tell the truth about who we are. As Ms. Hoyt writes in a recent post, the point of the Human Wave is not to blithely ignore everything that is awful and ugly in the human experience. The point is to say, "Yes, we are fallen creatures, but don't despair! Redemption is not impossible." Balance is the gold standard because it is balance that mirrors our lived reality as human beings.

I am a Human Waver because of my upbringing. When I was at that magical age - twelve - Dad didn't hand me the science fiction that was published at the tail-end of the eighties. He handed me The Tripods Trilogy and Heinlein's juveniles. The books I read emphasized adventure, human striving, and/or fate-of-the-world storytelling, so that's what I learned to love. Then I discovered Star Trek. Despite its silly collectivism and fanciful utopian notions, Star Trek is still very much an embodiment of the Human Wave ideal -- especially DS9, which SABR Matt and I consider to be the greatest of all the Treks partially because it honestly portrays the darkness in human nature and yet still retains the franchise's essential optimism.

I am also a Human Waver because I'm a conservative Christian who's sick of being bopped on the nose by leftist science fiction writers who think they are smarter and more moral than I. But really, the ideological issues are secondary. The main reason I'm attracted to the Human Wave has to do with the style of storytelling the movement champions. I appreciate the promotion of genuine realism -- not the phony sort of realism that supposes all is horror, pain, iniquity, and really bad sex.

Finding literary science fiction that fits the Human Wave takes work, but I have not been completely unsuccessful. Most of the writers in the Baen stable are Human Wavers (whether they realize it or not). Even Eric Flint, Baen's token communist, pens fundamentally positive works. There's also Connie Willis; when Willis writes a story with a downer ending - like The Doomsday Book - you still walk away feeling good about the human race as a whole. And if you're looking for up-and-coming writers to support, may I suggest Brad Torgersen? Torgersen's short stories are absolutely what the Human Wave is going for, as they feature normal, flawed human beings struggling through difficult circumstances who discover that, yes, there is reason to hope for something better.

In sum: The Human Wave is relevant to my interests, and I wish to subscribe to its newsletter.

Years after the debut of this essay, Brad Torgersen published a Dragon-Award-winning novel. Find that novel here!

Links of Interest: Cultural Appropriation, the Tao, and Math Education Myths

I'm going to be busy with this particular book today, so please enjoy the links I share below!

All Cultures Are Mine, David Marcus, The Federalist

"Nobody gets upset when Yo-Yo Ma plays the hell out of Bach. Nobody asks him to pay homage or royalties to white culture. As a result, white culture is open to everyone. It is the cultural lingua franca that binds together Americans’ understanding of the world.

The proponents of privilege theory and the concept of cultural appropriation seek to decentralize whiteness but, ironically, they are doing precisely the opposite. They are guaranteeing the central role that white culture plays by insisting it is the only culture that belongs to all of us. The price of this proprietary power play is steep. It encourages division and denies all of us the full flower of our shared human cultural history."

I couldn't agree more. Why are SJW's so eager to bring back racial segregation?

Life, Carbon, and the Tao, Tom Simon, Superversive SF

"In effect, the ruling classes of Westeros, and many others like them in recent fantasy, are crime syndicates in a world without law. But it is the law that makes the crime possible. The vast majority of the people need the Tao to do business with one another, and to make the whole society function. Part of that function is enforcing the Tao through laws, and resolving disputes between people when reciprocity breaks down. This is not a function that we ever see the epic gangsters performing. They are too busy planning murders and rebellions. Real criminal gangs are only able to function because someone else does the hard work of holding society together. They never exist as a ruling class; and when they do temporarily become rulers, as with the Barbary pirates of the eighteenth century, or the Somali warlords of our own time, the society breaks down, the people perish, and the profits of crime disappear. Without the Tao, there is no trust between people; without trust, nobody can work and create wealth; and without wealth, there is nobody for the criminals to rob."

A powerful critique of grimdark fantasy. As Glenn Reynolds might say, read the whole thing.

The Myth of "I'm Bad at Math", Miles Kimball & Noah Smith, The Atlantic

"Is math ability genetic? Sure, to some degree. Terence Tao, UCLA’s famous virtuoso mathematician, publishes dozens of papers in top journals every year, and is sought out by researchers around the world to help with the hardest parts of their theories. Essentially none of us could ever be as good at math as Terence Tao, no matter how hard we tried or how well we were taught. But here’s the thing: We don’t have to! For high-school math, inborn talent is much less important than hard work, preparation, and self-confidence."

Yes: Average students can learn algebra. It does require a firm foundation in arithmetic that many of my students do not possess, but the correct response to this difficulty is to fix the gaps in their elementary education -- not to remove algebra from the high school curriculum entirely.

Surfing the Human Wave: Kal Spriggs' Echo of the High Kings

When Matt, my co-author, stepped in to review Daniella Bova's Tears Of Paradox, he made a very important observation: Indy publishing - aided by the eeeeeevil, "literature-destroying" Amazon - is a remarkably vibrant "proving ground" for aspiring authors. I have had the privilege to read quite a few Amazon-published novels and have consequently discovered many talented writers who, for various reasons, may have been unfairly ignored by legacy publishers who, to maintain their brands, accept a very narrow range of works. Kal Spriggs' Echo of the High Kings is one illustrative example. Like Bova's book, Echo is somewhat unpolished -- but like Bova's book, Echo reveals its author's raw talent when it comes to crafting complex characters and complex worlds.

It took me a while to finish reading Echo. Now don't get me wrong: This is not because the book is awful and/or tedious. Still, this novel is long, covers a lot of ground, and contains a wealth of complicated scene-setting. Spriggs has tasked himself with juggling a "mega-ensemble," and at times, this leads him down alley ways that, while interesting, don't (yet) feel important to the central plot. Indeed, until the back third of the book, there were moments when I wasn't quite sure where Spriggs was actually going with his cast -- moments when I had no sense of the ultimate goal. Moreover, by the end of the novel, nothing was actually resolved, which may frustrate those readers who expect books to stand on their own. Granted, this novel is intended to be the first of a series -- but even within a series, individual books should satisfy at least some of the reader's desire for an "end".

On the upside, the multiple threads and side stories do reveal the thoughtfulness of Spriggs' world-building. You can really feel that Eoriel is a world steeped in history -- a colony world on which many different cultures and kingdoms have left their marks, building societies on each other's ruins. After finishing the novel, I definitely do want to learn more about Eoriel's past and how it has shaped Eoriel's disorganized and fascinating present.

Another thing that becomes apparent as you read Echo is Spriggs' ability to create complex, multi-layered characters. Hector, for example, is one of Spriggs' principal "villains" - a man who has made deals with objectively awful people to further his own ends - but even he has comprehensible motives for his actions. Indeed, said character is strongly reminiscent of other characters I've adored who've allowed their single-minded focus on protecting their nations to cloud their moral judgments. And I get the sense that Hector's arc could be going in a direction we may not expect -- that he may still retain some small spark of heroism that will become apparent as the plot of this saga continues to unfold.

On the whole, Echo is a book that could use some firm editing to tighten the plot -- but it is still very much worth a read. As an epic fantasy writer, Spriggs has a great deal of potential, and I'm eager to see where he takes the Eoriel Saga in future books.

Final Verdict: Recommended 

Surfing the Human Wave: Robert A. Hoyt's Cat's Paw

Unbeknownst to all but a privileged few, the end of the world is drawing near. A royal family has been charged with protecting our fragile status quo, but many among their number have fallen prey to a sinister cult that is eager to see the earth remade in its preferred image. Should a drunk old cynic really get himself mixed up in such an apocalyptic struggle? Of course not -- but destiny makes his choice for him when he saves the life of a lovely lady and finds himself duty-bound to protect her as she sets off on a quest to defeat the aforementioned cult and save the world.

The basic outline of this story sounds pretty familiar, right? But allow me to add just one more important detail: the protagonists and the principal villains are cats. Thus we have discovered the premise of Robert Hoyt's Cat's Paw.

For me, this novel was something of a shock. I was anticipating something "crackier" -- something, perhaps, that poked fun at standard cat behaviors. But the characters in Cat's Paw didn't strike me as especially "cat-like" despite their surface descriptions. I didn't see the indoor cat complain about needing a nap, for example -- and no one randomly flopped down in an "ideal" patch of sunlight.

To be fair, though, my expectations were definitely colored by my experiences with my own fuzzy friend, who is probably the most spoiled and lazy cat on the planet -- and once I set aside said expectations, I was wholly able to just sit back and enjoy the story. The quest plot, again, is a relatively well-worn idea, but Robert gives it a clever spin by "peopling" his universe with cats of all types and breeds, psychotic squirrels, mountain-destroying birds, and -- I think you get the picture. I also liked the character development we see in the male and female leads. The pregnant indoor cat turns out to have more layers than her initial presentation as a ditz might suggest -- and the alcoholic tom's evolution from jaded loner to genuine hero was pleasant to read and certainly deserving of the Human Wave label (even if, technically, the character in question isn't a human being).

The amazing thing? Robert wrote this when he was thirteen. I teach adolescents for a living, and I have yet to encounter a student of that age who is capable of this kind of sustained and adult storytelling. Hell: While I was frequently singled out for the high quality of my own writing at thirteen, that attention was all for my non-fiction; my fiction, meanwhile, tended toward the "Mary Sue" self-insert. To put it another way: Robert clearly had some scary, bad-ass talent, and I'm a teensy bit jealous!

So -- if you're looking for something light and fun to read, I recommend giving Cat's Paw a try. Who knows? It might surprise you too!

Final Verdict: Recommended.

Indy Review - Tears of Paradox (Daniella Bova)

Written by Matthew S.

While my sister recovers from getting blasted by fifteen kids trying to pass the SATs or apply for colleges (yes...it's that time of year again!) - I will step in and offer my own attempt at a lit review.  I've just finished reading Daniella Bova's first publication - and its quite a window into the process of honing one's craft as a writer (and an excellent reason why independent publishing is neither the end of great literature, nor an easy thing to do).  I'll explain what I mean in a moment.

First a brief synopsis (without giving too much away - her Amazon link is here)

Tears of Paradox takes place in the not-too-distant future in suburban Philadelphia (roughly 2025-2030) and depicts a sort of 'worst case scenario' unwinding of the Constitution as viewed by ordinary people whose primary concerns are raising families and living ordinary lives unmolested by the powers that be.  It follows Jason Wallace and his wife Michelle through their courtship, marriage, and hardships as an increasingly heavy-handed federal healthcare bureaucracy chisels away at their prosperity, security, and even their very lives and the lives of their families.  If you're a member of the intelligentsia, you probably won't recognize these characters, but if you spent time around military personnel, blue collar workers, or farmers, you'll instantly know exactly about whom you're reading.  Jason and his close friend and brother and law Brad spend their high school and college days blissfully unaware of anything in the world at large beyond their latest escapades with the ladies or their next fishing trip.  But as they each fall for the love of their lives and discover the responsibilities of marriage and family, the encroachment of aggressive federal power sets off in each of them an internal struggle between their desire to do right by their families, and their desire to fight back against the waning of their freedoms.

As a character study, this is a powerful tome - albeit, incomplete (for reasons I've discussed with the author herself).  Daniella has, without any formal study, intuitively grasped word choice and characterization so well that within the first several pages of 'Tears', I was hooked, and I stayed hooked despite the unconventional (and some would say flawed) plot construction, enduring a mighty eyestrain headache to finish the book in about 8 hours of reading over a weekend.  I cared immensely for these people almost instantly.  It is a credit to her, that the author managed to make a Tolstoy-esque "deconstruction" story into a bit of a page turner despite the notable lack of car chases and shootouts. :)  This is a deeply introspective, philosophical work, but it is propelled along by truly inspiring characters and a tone that perfectly captures the feeling of liberty-minded Americans today...a creeping sense of dread.

By the way, this is also a distinctly Catholic story - many of the characters come to their faith more and more as society crumbles, but it all revolves around Michelle's faith and the influence of that faith on her loved ones, especially her husband.  Daniella gets the spiritual messages just right, IMHO, and I strongly identify with Jason's struggle to remain true to his emerging Catholicism despite the constant temptation to lash out at those who would strip him of his right to worship.

Impressive that I considered this a page-turner 95% of the time I was reading it despite the fact that the very nature of this story is for it to be a soul-crushing GRIND.  I kid you not when I say that things just get harder and harder and HARDER to push through for the characters, and you, as a reader, will absolutely feel that.

I think the story could have done with some aggressive editing for flow, plot construction, and pacing.  It lacks a beginning/middle/end, and key turning points for the characters thus wind up feeling like just another scene when they really shouldn't.  There are also sections of the narrative that are a bit "nested" - you start following one scene and then the character digresses into another related memory...and from there into another, and you want to follow them all, because they all offer something important, but there were a few places where this nested delivery made me put the book down for a minute to think.  On top of that, you read through the story expecting things to build to a dramatic climax and that never really happens.  And many things that are built up during Michelle's telling of her story from the future perspective are not paid off.  This is evidently because the original draft included events from this first book and the second - which will be released in December of 2014 (pending any delays she might encounter).  I think the story itself could be a slam-dunk best seller if some hard choices were made as to which memories and anecdotes were crucial to the plot and which were just 'nice to have' - and if the plot was ordered in an easier-to-follow classic dramatic sequence, but for a first-time effort, I was nonetheless impressed with the level of world-building and character insight Daniella possessed.

With that in mind, your milage may vary as to whether you find the tale frustrating or engaging (it was a little of both for me, but I plan to stick with it through book 2 because of the characters...they're that real and likable to me).

Now, what did I mean at the start of this review?  Like Jason in the book, not everyone is built to prefer formal education as their way of learning new skills, and not every writer is going to find their voice and master their craft by sitting and listening to professors pontificate as to what is "story".  Often, the best way to learn is to just sit down and do it, and then get feedback from your would-be audience.  Indy publishing offers aspiring authors the chance to have their material read by critical eyes and start the process of maximizing their potential, and it produces books like these that would be turned down by publishing houses without major revisions, but that are a window into a major talent...a talent that is far more likely to grow and produce something truly memorable and astounding through independent publication and feedback than through classroom education or no-feedback rejections by publishing houses that are necessarily focused on maintaining classic narrative structure and selling books in the here and now, rather than developing talent.  And, of course, if you are going to self-publish, you have to be willing to accept criticism and keep developing, which, I assure you, is not an easy thing to do.  I sincerely hope Daniella keeps writing - I believe she has something amazing to offer us if she sticks with it and masters her craft.

Final Verdict: Personally recommended, but your milage may vary

Steph Reads Baened Books: Brad Torgersen's The Chaplain's War

"My sleep schedule is completely messed up now. I woke up at midnight last night and didn't get back to sleep until four."

"Did you do any reading in the meantime?"

"Yes!"

"Well, then at least the time wasn't wasted."

"As a matter of fact, I finished Brad Torgersen's book, The Chaplain's War."

"Did the chaplain win?"

It was here in the above conversation with my father that I paused -- for while the novel does end on a high note, I'm not sure said conclusion could be classified as a "win" in the way Dad intended it. Despite its title and its nods to the traditions of military science fiction, The Chaplain's War isn't that kind of story; it's more about fostering peace than about triumphing in combat.

For Analog readers - and for those of you who have read Brad's first anthology, Lights in the Deep
- some of the ground covered in The Chaplain's War will be very familiar, as the book includes (and then extends) the full texts of "The Chaplain's Assistant" and The Chaplain's Legacy (the latter of which I reviewed here in one of my 2014 Hugo posts).  The story follows Harrison Barlow, a military enlistee who, despite his agnosticism, has fallen into an assignment with the chaplain's corps because he doesn't really fit in anywhere else. Barlow is sent with a Fleet contingent to capture a world held by the mantes - an insectoid/cyborg race that has attacked several of Earth's outlying colonies - and is ultimately taken prisoner when Earth's badly outmatched forces are roundly defeated. In the valley where he and his fellow soldiers are contained by a deadly forcefield, Barlow constructs and maintains a small multi-denominational chapel in order to fulfill a promise to his chaplain and superior officer. There, he stumbles on an opportunity to stop the human/mantes war in its tracks.

The new material Brad has added to this novel includes a series of flashbacks covering Barlow's enlistment and early Fleet experiences and a denouement in which Barlow and the Queen Mother deal with the consequences of the events in The Chaplain's Legacy. And it's funny: Despite this book's piece-wise construction, old and new fit together extremely well. Just one example: In boot camp, a young Barlow encounters a bully who seems to determined to make his life hell. What Barlow does about this - and the lesson he learns along the way - only amplifies the theme of the original tale on which this novel is based. To put it another way: The additions are wholly organic and feel like they've always belonged in the story; they do not appear to be afterthoughts.

And the aforementioned theme, as I noted above, is peace - in particular, how it might be honorably achieved. In a way, I think it's appropriate to see The Chaplain's War as an extended reply to Robert A. Heinlein's Starship Troopers. While the earlier work - at least in part - emphasized the sad necessity of violence, Brad invites us to consider a more optimistic alternative. Could we coexist? Could intercultural dialog actually foster understanding? I don't know -- but I think it's important that we don't completely dismiss the possibility. (By the way: The parallelism I see between The Chaplain's War and Starship Troopers is why I can't agree with the one Amazon reviewer who complained that the boot camp scenes in the former were "unoriginal." Brad's use of familiar military science fiction tropes in those scenes, I feel, is a deliberate call-back, not a creative failure -- and when you read said scenes in context, you realize that their purpose actually diverges from the standard.)

There are also several secondary themes that cannot be ignored. For instance, Brad has a great deal to say about God. He doesn't preach, mind you; his presentation is carefully ecumenical and respectful of divergent views. But the sense that there is Something Greater in charge of the universe is an integral feature of The Chaplain's War -- one that, I feel, qualifies the novel for the burgeoning "Superversive" Movement. (Indeed, I invite John C. Wright and his wife to read the scene in the observation dome between Barlow and the Queen Mother and see whether they agree.) Brad also evinces a skepticism in re: transhumanism that deserves to be taken just as seriously. True: These messages may turn off those with more militant atheistic viewpoints, but for me, they made the reading experience all the more enjoyable. Unlike some, I don't believe spirituality and science fiction should never mix -- or that religiosity and rational knowability are in radical conflict.

I could say more, but I'll finish with this: If the "Superversive" or "Human Wave" movements appeal to you, you need to read this book. If you've been following the historical conversation in the science fiction genre in re: "battling the bugs," you need to read this book. If you're just looking for a good, positive read, you need to read this book. Hell -- if you like traditional science fiction, you need to read this book. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Final Verdict: Highly Recommended.

Surfing the Human Wave: Brad Torgersen's Racers of the Night

If there's one thing that Brad Torgersen's latest anthology reveals, it's Brad's versatility. You know those "working actors" who take what roles they can get and don't put on airs about their ahhhht? Brad is that kind of author; if you challenge him - and, of course, offer to pay him for the effort - he seems to be up for almost anything. Consequently, the stories in Racers of the Night run the gamut from traditional space opera to Lovecraftian sci-fi horror and feature self-aware sexbots, futuristic furries, time travel, sub-light interstellar space craft, and many other concepts in between.

If there's another thing Racers of the Night reveals, it's the absolute folly of pinning Brad to one particular ideological "team" -- and then dismissing him because that team is not yours. On the one hand, "The Hideki Line" expresses a firm distrust of social engineers and nudgers seeking to manipulate their neighbors for their own so-called noble purposes. On the other hand, "The Flamingo Girl" evinces a genuine sympathy for sexual minority groups, and "The Curse of Sally Tincakes" accepts as admirable its protagonist's desire to shatter a gender-based glass ceiling. Brad may be on record favoring a more traditional and less faux-literary style in science fiction - i.e., a style focused on entertaining the audience first - but that doesn't mean the content of his stories is rigidly traditional. The open-minded of all stripes will find much to like here -- if they dare to look.

Of course, in my opinion, the true highlight of this volume is the concluding novella, Life Flight. As I remarked in an earlier review:

In Life Flight, Torgersen takes a page from Daniel Keyes' book and records his point-of-view character's thoughts and feelings in journal form -- and in my judgment, I think he does a masterful job. Like Keyes, it seems Torgersen knows exactly how to adjust his style and tone to reflect his main character's gradual evolution. The early journal entries are simple and perfectly convey the concerns of a pre-teen child; the later entries grow steadily more mature and reflective. And it all works. 

Throughout, the main character's emotional arc is profoundly interesting -- and, thankfully, morally grounded.

Life Flight, I feel, is a real contender for my 2015 Hugo nomination ballot -- but, of course, it's not the only strong selection in the bunch (even if it is by far the best). I also enjoyed the stories I mentioned above -- even if I didn't find them quite as striking. And Reardon's Law? Yes -- that needs to be expanded into Brad's next novel for Baen!

I was a little disappointed that Racers of the Night didn't feature any of Brad's commentary on the current state of science fiction; I rather liked the essays that were included in Lights in the Deep and was hoping to see a few more. But regardless of that particular glaring omission, this book is still a "must-have" for any Brad Torgersen fan -- and for any seekers of up-and-coming talent in the field.

Final Verdict: Recommended.

The (Late) Wednesday Short: K.D. Julicher's The Golden Knight

"What we want to see: Adventure fantasy with heroes you want to root for. Warriors either modern or medieval, who solve problems with their wits or with their sword--and we have nothing against dragons, elves, dwarves, castles under siege, urban fantasy, damsels in distress, or damsels who can’t be bothered to be distressed. What we don't want to see: Political drama with no action, angst-ridden teens pining over vampire lovers, religious allegory, novel segments, your gaming adventure transcript, anything set in any universe not your own, “it was all a dream” endings, or screenplays."

When these content guidelines for Baen's first Fantasy Adventure Award were announced, the usual suspects sneered. After all, Larry Correia was named as a judge, and as the International Lord of Hate, Larry is just as evil as they come. How could anything of "quality" seize the prize?

Well. Far be it for me to contradict my social betters in the SFF universe, but the recently-announced grand prize winner - "The Golden Knight" - is actually pretty damned great. Indeed, I hope this will not be last we see from "K.D. Julicher," which, I understand, is a pen name for a husband-and-wife writing team. If this, their first professional publication, spurs them to continue churning out stories in the fantasy genre, I predict we'll see great things from them.

The protagonist of "The Golden Knight" is a man in hiding. The only survivor of a disastrous shipwreck, he has allowed his guilt over the loss of his men to overwhelm his identity as a warrior and a king. But then a kid - a self-declared "squire" who hasn't even outgrown his peach fuzz - arrives, declaring that he's looking for his master, and what ensues is the story of a mentor-pupil relationship that ultimately brings a lost soul back from the brink.

As anyone familiar with my past fannish history probably knows, I love, love, love platonic elder-younger pairings in which the younger's boundless loyalty and innocence in some way redeem the elder. Such stories, I feel, speak to the more profound spiritual reason why most of us become parents (and why I, in the absence of a spouse, have elected to work as a teacher). Biological imperatives to reproduce aside, there is also an instinctual recognition that caring for our children is a salvific enterprise -- and the fact that many succumb to the pop culture's distorted and idolatrous visions of parenting does not in any way negate the nobility of the animating impulse.

To put it another way: Unlike many of the short stories that have recently attracted the plaudits of the fandom's clerisy, "The Golden Knight" actually achieves one of literature's primary functions: It taps into our authentic humanity. For that reason alone, it is well worth a read.

Final Verdict: Highly Recommended.

The Wednesday Short: Brad Torgersen's Picket Ship

I don't necessarily have a problem with dark and/or dystopic stories. At their best, said stories do communicate ideas that are both important and beautiful. But in a genre that is healthy and vibrant - in a genre that honestly connects with the reality of human nature - the light should be permitted to counterbalance the dark (or, to borrow from Jewish tradition, the yetzer hatov should be permitted to counterpose the yetzer hara). If everything in your story is grim and hopeless - if good never wins - then you, as a writer, have not tapped into something true.

In recent years, the sci-fi/fantasy genre seems to have lost sight of this critical need for balance -- and that's why I have become one of Brad Torgersen's most aggressive boosters. Brad, you see, doesn't wallow in the pit of pseudo-profound despair. Even when he destroys the world, he leaves open the possibility of resurrection and triumph. Case in point: "Picket Ship," a short story published by Baen to drum up interest in Brad's soon-to-be-released debut novel, The Chaplain's War. (Kindle users: The e-book is already available!)

Now, I'll be upfront: I think "Picket Ship" - which takes place elsewhere in the Chaplain-verse and features other characters - is only an average story for Brad. Even so, it still manages to display his refreshing optimism. The story opens with a group of stranded soldiers who are being pursued by a mantis patrol on the colony planet of New Earth -- which is currently losing its fight against the mantis fleet. The odds against our protagonists, in other words, couldn't be more astronomical -- and yet they manage to seize at least one significant victory. True -- there are costs. True -- New Earth is ultimately abandoned. But Amelia and the others leave knowing that their enemy is not invincible.

The David-vs-Goliath trope Brad uses here is very familiar -- but as I noted in Monday's post, the fact that something is a trope does not mean it is bad. Tropes are often tropes because they speak to essential longings in the human psyche; they persist because they are reflections of our deepest selves. And if you doubt that sympathy for the underdog is one of those authentically human impulses, then your anthropology is seriously warped.

Once again, I do think Brad has written better stories. But if, just once, you'd like to read something that concludes on a reasonably upbeat note, "Picket Ship" is a solid choice.

Final Verdict: Recommended. 

Surfing the Human Wave: B.J. Beck's The Fields Where Soldiers Play

Hello, everyone! I'm back!

And apologies once again for my partially unplanned absence. Around mid-August, I developed some neck and upper back pain that made it difficult to sit at the computer for long stretches, so I was forced to dial back my writing schedule. Then, of course, there was my usual end-of-summer road trip to Dragon Con: six jam-packed days that provide little opportunity to dash off even a quick email (let alone a blog post). Said con always takes it out of me, but as I'll note in this year's report, it's totally worth it just to spend some time with My People in the Science Fiction Literature Track (where I've served as a volunteer for the past eight years).

This past week, however, I've discovered that I can't turn my back on fandom even for a second. Upon my return, this is essentially what I found:

  

Larry Correia once again tangled with a certain welfare queen at the Guardian after the latter misrepresented Toni Weisskopf and Baen Books; people have been arguing on Facebook over the depiction of women in John Ringo's novels; the usual suspects are trying to destroy the gamer world, and gamers are starting to fight back; Spiderwoman's butt caused - well - butthurt in Marvel fandom; etc., etc., etc. I think the Huns are right: We need to find a way to turn all this outrage into a renewable energy source. But in the meantime, I can parlay it into some commentary posts; between the never-ending fandom-wank and some of the conversations I had at Dragon Con, I think it'll take months before I run out of things to say.

Before I get into all of that, though, I have a book to review: B.J. Beck's The Fields Where Soldiers Play.

*****

The Fields Where Soldiers Play is the first novel of a sword-and-sorcery fantasy trilogy in which the principal protagonist - a knight by the name of Sir Jacien - returns from one war only to find himself embroiled in another when neighboring forces, claiming that Newelen's king is illegitimate, attempt to invade. 

To be honest, I can't say there was anything in Fields that really wowed me -- but as debut novels go, it's not bad at all. The magic system - in which spells are woven or sewn - is unique enough to catch my attention, the action sequences are reasonably well-written, and the political intrigue has a great deal of story potential. Did Beck accomplish her stated goal of recapturing the classic days of fantasy literature? Unfortunately, that's hard for me to say, as I'm not especially well-read in the history of that particular genre. Did I essentially like the book and think it was worth five dollars? Yes. At the very least, I'm willing to spend money to see how the rest of the story plays out, which means Beck succeeded in generating interest in her characters and her world.

And -- well, I wish I had more to say than that, but I think further discussion will have to wait until I read the second and third books.

Final Verdict: Recommended (Provisionally).

Surfing the Human Wave: Karen Myers' Bound into the Blood (Hounds of Annwn, Book 4)

It's been almost a year since George Talbot Traherne was pulled from his home in modern-day Virginia and plunked into the parallel kingdom of Annwn, and in that time, he has been kept very busy. He has assumed the role of Huntsman under the reign of Gwyn ap Nudd and thwarted an attempt to disrupt the annual Wild Hunt. He has played a role in defeating one of Gwyn's most dangerous enemies and has opened a diplomatic relationship with the rock wights, elementals who possess the ability to create "ways" across time and space. And he has helped his royal patron to secure Annwn's political independence, thereby touching off an era of tremendous social change. But what is George to make of his personal connection to the god Cernunnos? Where did it come from? And might it have something to do with his parents, who supposedly died when he was very young? These questions drive the plot of Bound into the Blood, the fourth book of Karen Myers' Hounds of Annwn series. It is, perhaps, a smaller tale than its predecessors, but if you enjoy Karen's characters as much as I do, you will still find this novel well worth reading.

Mind you, there are a few elements of the main plot that didn't quite work for me. If a character (whose identity I won't spoil) demonstrates no hesitation or remorse when it comes to murdering those who, in his mind, stand in the way of his absolute freedom, it seems unlikely to me that he would undergo a change of heart simply because George shows him some compassion. As a Christian, I would like to think that mercy could be that powerful, but said character is basically written as a selfish sociopath, and in reality, it's tough to change that particular leopard's spots.

Still, I definitely enjoyed the "outsider perspective" Bound provides on our own society. You see, while George comes back to Earth to learn the truth about his heritage, Benitoe and Seething Magma also come along to pursue their own interests, and when the story switches to either supporting character's point of view, what results is often amusing. At one point, for example, Mag tries to sit underneath Penn State to glean geological information from the minds of the professors there and immediately gets frustrated when she discovers that we humans spend a lot of time thinking about "useless" trivia -- like, for example, whether our fellow humans are desirable for mating. ( :-) ) Benitoe, meanwhile, develops a rather adorable fondness for ice cream, which doesn't exist in the technologically stagnant Annwn.

On the whole, I do hope Karen continues this series, as I think there are many more stories of Annwn she can tell. Will there ever be a confrontation between the world of the fae and our world? Will conflicts arise between Annwn and their new neighbors to the south? And how will free creation of the "ways" impact the way Annwn's society develops over time? Will overland routes become partially or wholly obsolete? Will we see a technological revolution of sorts that will mirror what's happening in the 21st century US? The potential here, in my view, is far from exhausted.

Final Verdict: Recommended.

Surfing the Human Wave: Cedar Sanderson's The God's Wolfling

As you know, teaching is my mundane profession -- and as most of my students fall in the 12-17 age range, I consequently have several years' worth of experience working with teenagers and discovering what they really need academically and developmentally. What does this have to do with Cedar Sanderson's latest, The God's Wolfling? Plenty. Cedar, in my opinion, really gets it. She doesn't talk down to her young audience; rather, she invites them into our adult world by giving her adolescent protagonists mature responsibilities and, overall, demanding more. Linn - whom you may remember from last year's Vulcan's Kittens (reviewed here) - is not treated as helpless; on the contrary, when she displays a restless desire to contribute, the adults in her life recognize the need and give her the opportunity to prove herself, sending her to the court of the sea god Manannan Mac'Lir and into potentially mortal danger.

The God's Wolfling isn't really a direct sequel to Vulcan's Kittens but more an additional stand-alone story in the same universe. Vulcan's Kittens sets up a future confrontation between humanity and the alien "gods" who feel Earth's technological development is a threat to their power, but oddly, The God's Wolfling doesn't seem to address that conflict at all. Instead, the antagonists here are the goblins, who resent being trapped on Earth and are looking for the portal back to the "gods'" home planet. The story is interesting and engaging, but I am a little surprised that Cedar chose to drop the "Old Ones" from the story; the battle at the end of Vulcan's Kittens, after all, didn't seem to end the war.

On the other hand, as I noted above, Cedar has a sure hand when it comes to writing teenagers, and her refusal to yield to the "helicopter parenting" trends of our age is immensely refreshing. Additionally, she manages to add a young male character to the tale without immediately succumbing to the urge to pair him off with Linn. Indeed, Linn's attitude regarding boys in general is, thankfully, quite balanced; she notices them but doesn't let those thoughts consume her life. Ironic, isn't it? Cedar is an outspoken opponent of the "social justice warrior" faction, and yet she's one of the few writers out there who successfully writes female characters who aren't defined by their male counterparts. Could it be that libertarian individualism has more to offer the cause of "equality"?

But I digress. Suffice it to say that I enjoyed The God's Wolfling. It's not a perfect book, but it's very, very good.

Final Verdict: Recommended.

Surfing the Human Wave: Dave Freer's Stardogs

So -- I've fallen behind the past several days, and for that delay, I apologize. In truth, I've run into a block, and I think what's been holding me back is the fact that I disagree with some folks I respect regarding Dave Freer's Stardogs. While said folks seemed to enjoy it, I really struggled -- especially through the first twenty percent. (I'm a Kindle reader here, so sadly, I have no pages to reference.)

Granted, the universe Freer establishes is pretty damned amazing. Basically, well before humanity attempted interstellar travel, two other races fought a total war that led to their mutual annihilation. But while the giants may have exited the playground, the remains of their respective civilizations were left littered throughout the galaxy -- and when human beings discovered these remnants centuries later, they essentially built their own empire on the wreckage. Unfortunately, this empire evolved into a cross between a corrupt monarchy and a corrupt oligarchy in which the Stardogs - works of alien bio-engineering that have mastered FTL travel - and their human riders are ruthlessly exploited for the power and profit of their rulers.

Yes: It's certainly a setting ripe for conflict. My problems with the execution, however, are two:

1. It takes too long to get to the core plot. The opening chapters are devoted to the entire history of the human empire from the accidental discovery of the Stardogs to the present day, and for me, that was an extremely difficult slog. Given the third-person-omniscient point-of-view, I feel those details could've been provided on an "as-needed" basis instead of all at once -- and indeed, when Freer switches to that approach in the back half of the book, the pacing of the story improves immensely.
2. The core plot doesn't take full advantage of the set-up. After you've sowed the seeds for rebellion -- I'm not sure the right answer is to focus solely on a "bottle story" set on a planet that is currently out of circulation. True: The characters involved all represent key factions of the aforementioned political ferment, but their bickering among themselves doesn't really present the social divides in the empire in the most interesting possible way. And pushing the actual revolution entirely off screen? To be honest, I felt cheated.    

But hey: Perhaps I was just tired this past week and that somehow contributed to my frustration. If I've mentioned anything here that piques your interest, go ahead and give Stardogs a look. I certainly won't stop you!

Final Verdict: Your Mileage May Vary.

The Wednesday Short: Cedar Sanderson's Stargazer

I have a real affection for short fiction. Indeed, I've written a fair amount -- though it's all fanfiction, so I'm not sure it really counts. Short fiction, in my view, requires a somewhat different approach. Because you have fewer pages in which to accomplish your objectives, you have to economize -- which forces you to think more carefully about your word choices.

The history of sci-fi/fantasy boasts some damned fine short fiction writers. Ray Bradbury, Arthur C. Clarke, Robert A. Heinlein -- all of them accomplished some amazing things in less than a hundred pages (or sometimes less than twenty). Alas, these days, the short fiction market seems to be overrun with pretentious pseudo-sci-fi/fantasy masquerading as the real thing. The few gems - like Brad Torgersen - are the exceptions that prove the rule.

But perhaps my impression is wrong; perhaps I need to work harder to find the short fiction that's actually good. Which brings me to the purpose of my new feature: The Wednesday Short. From this week onward, I will be reviewing works that come in under a hundred pages every Wednesday night -- and maybe, along the way, I will discover reasons to have hope.

First on the docket: Cedar Sanderson's "Stargazer". "Stargazer" is the story of a mother whose options are few. Because she is hiding from her own government - and her own husband - she can't take a standard job or live in a proper home. Realizing that her children are suffering, she reaches out for help -- and in the process makes a great sacrifice.

This story is a teasing glimpse at a universe that absolutely begs for further development. When I finished it, I found myself wondering what happened next -- not to mention what brought Cedar's protagonist to her current desperate state. Without the full context, there were certain moments of the tale that felt slightly overwrought -- but when it comes to depicting the selfless nature of love, Cedar certainly does a much better job than does the author of a certain Nebula-winning short story, who cheaply manipulates her readers by playing on their worst instincts. And while "Stargazer" ends on a bittersweet note, it is still wholly worthy of the "Human Wave" label, as every character here is trying his or her best to do the right thing.

In sum? "Stargazer" is definitely worth dropping a buck. I can only pray that Cedar will revisit this particular universe and give us even more.

Final Verdict: Recommended.

Link of Interest: Warning Signs of LSE (Literary Status Envy)

Eric S. Raymond has written some interesting reflections on the current state of science fiction, and while I don't agree with him on every particular, his most recent post is freakishly reminiscent of my own complaints in re: recent short lists for the Hugo Awards. Behold! Here are just a few of the key warning signs of "literary status envy", a terrible affliction that has turned much of today's science fiction into unpalatable grey goo:

1. Evinces desire to be considered “serious artist”.
2. Idea content is absent or limited to politicized social criticism.
3. Heroism does not occur except as anti-heroic mockery.
4. All major characters are psychologically damaged.
5. Wordage devoted to any character’s interior monologues exceeds wordage in same character’s dialog.
6. Repeated character torture, especially of the self-destructive variety.
7. Inability to write an unambiguously happy ending. In advanced cases, the ability to write any ending at all may be lost...

Etc. There are seven more signs at the link, and all of them are pretty damned accurate. I do wonder, though, whether we should change the name of this master list to "Warning Signs of Post-Modern Literary Status Envy." Granted, I'm no expert -- but I could swear literary fiction used to have heroes and plots and happy endings once upon a time. My high school English career - spent largely in honors and AP-level courses - was not an unending sea of pointless torment. If I recall correctly, mush didn't really enter the picture until we hit the twentieth century and literary movements that emphasized form over substance. Am I wrong?

Edited to Add: And by the way, if you're looking for ways to combat LSE, Cedar Sanderson has a very good "anti" list over at her blog.

Surfing the Human Wave: Sabrina Chase's The Long Way Home

After a week and change on a monster kick, I shall now return to straight space opera with Sabrina Chase's The Long Way Home. The first novel of the Sequoyah series, The Long Way Home stars an explorer, Moire Cameron, who is wrenched eighty years out of time by "Einstein's revenge" and plunked into a universe in which humanity is locked in a long war of attrition with a neighboring alien race and NASA has been supplanted by a scheming megacorp that, by the way, really, really wants to capture Moire and silence her before she reveals the secret behind her last mission. Throughout the novel, Moire is forced to jump from post to post in order to evade her pursuers; along the way, she picks up a mysterious child-like companion and, eventually, a loyal crew.

Some of the tropes employed here are fairly well-worn for the genre. We have, for example, the villainous corporation with designs on the rest of the galaxy -- and the broken-down tramp freighter that still manages to survive disasters that would conquer other ships. In this story, however, said tropes work reasonably well mainly because Sabrina's characters are solid enough to keep things fresh and interesting. I especially appreciate the journey Moire takes throughout the novel as she goes from feeling out-of-place and distrustful to becoming a legitimate leader who finds new strength and purpose in caring for others. That is in fact what the Human Wave is about (at least in part): The nobility of overcoming fear for the sake of something other than yourself.

The only major complaint I have in re: The Long Way Home is that it just -- ends. We don't find out what Alan is precisely (although I can basically guess he's been genetically engineered and trained to be a super soldier). We don't find out why Sequoyah is important and why Moire is so determined to keep it secret. And we don't really learn all that much about Toren's "Long Range Plan" other than the fact that it exists (though, once again, the narrative suggests that galactic domination is probably one of the plan's key features). All of the central questions are essentially left unanswered -- which, in my view, is mildly unsporting.

That being said, Sabrina has definitely grabbed my attention. If she noticed a bump in her sales the other day, that was me -- buying the second and third books in the series.

Final Verdict: Recommended. 

Surfing the Human Wave -- with Kaiju!

Kaiju! For those of you who may not know, "kaiju" is the Japanese word for "strange beast" and is a blanket term fans use to refer to the creatures in their favorite B-grade monster movies. Godzilla, Gamera, Mothra, King Ghidorah, Mechagodzilla, Anguirus, Rodan, and the monsters in Pacific Rim (which I happened to enjoy) -- these are all kaiju, and all of them are entertaining if you happen to be in just the right mood.

I've been reading a lot of kaiju stories this week thanks to the efforts of Eric S. Brown and Jason Cordova, who have published four kaiju books set in two distinct universes. Kaiju Apocalypse, Kaiju Apocalypse II, and Kaiju Apocalypse III cover one universe; Murder World: Kaiju Dawn covers the other. From what I understand, the Apocalypse universe is more Eric's baby while the Murder World universe is more Jason's -- and I did in fact notice a distinct difference in styles.

The Apocalypse books, which are set on Earth, are quick hitters - novellas rather than novels - and to be honest, they sometimes left me unsatisfied. This was especially the case with Kaiju Apocalypse, which unfortunately lacked the well-defined characters the story needed to really have meaning. Why should I care that a dog kaiju is spilling so-and-so's guts if so-and-so is basically a stranger to me? Why should I care about the sacrifices made to defend Lemura Base if, once again, the people involved are unknowns? Fortunately, Kaiju Apocalypse II and Kaiju Apocalypse III were much better because they gave us at least some time to get to know the protagonists and featured dialogue that was funnier and more natural in flow. Reading Kaiju Apocalypse felt like reading a dry AAR; the latter novellas, on the other hand, achieved more of a human connection -- even if the story still felt somewhat rough and superficial.

Murder World: Kaiju Dawn, meanwhile, is a full length novel that combines the kaiju and space opera genres, and of the four books I'm covering in this review, it is by far the best. I think other people have said this, but I'll say this too: If Joss Whedon's Firefly and Pacific Rim mated and had a baby, the result would be Murder World. Vincente, the lead character, is the captain of a merchant ship-for-hire who's recruited to rescue a military ship that was lost on Gorgon IV -- the reputed "Murder World." He is accompanied on this adventure by his pilot, Jasmine, his alien engineer, and a contingent of mercenaries -- including the enormous and mentally unbalanced Yolo, who develops a crush on Jasmine after she thoroughly kicks his ass. Once this motley band reaches Gorgon IV, their ship is severely damaged by a "mysterious atmospheric phenomenon" and they crash-land on the inhospitable surface where - surprise, surprise - they learn that Gorgon IV is home to a group of very nasty alien kaiju. Cue bloodshed and mayhem.

The greater length of Murder World allows the plot to develop more cleanly. Further, the characters are both reasonably well-developed and quite funny. I particularly love the established relationship we see between Vincente and Jasmine -- and I love the relationship that develops between Jasmine and Yolo too, though I'm sure the glittery gals would squeal like stuck pigs if they ever deigned to read it themselves. On the whole? I would happily recommend Murder World to anyone looking for a quick, pulpy read that is both action-packed and witty. I certainly had a lot of fun with it!

Final Verdict: It's Complicated. I would put a "Your Mileage May Vary" stamp on the Kaiju Apocalypse series, but Murder World: Kaiju Dawn gets a solid "Recommended."

Surfing the Human Wave: D. Jason Fleming's Spring That Never Came

As far as I can tell, no one has reviewed D. Jason Fleming's new novella, Spring That Never Came -- which means I have the privilege of being the first to share my impressions of his tale, which features an out-of-work Hollywood actress who's recruited to repel a Lovecraftian invasion at the precise moment her personal and professional lives have hit rock-bottom.

Overall, I liked Spring. The choice Fleming makes regarding Tammy's fellow soldiers is especially intriguing -- though, unfortunately, the short format doesn't allow much time to explore the tragic consequences of pulling potentially valuable human lives out of mainstream society. I should also note that I found the ending rather grim -- but given the principal theme of the story, I'm not sure that wasn't wholly appropriate.

Ultimately, Spring is not about battling eldritch monsters from a distant dimension in space-time. Indeed, if that's what you're seeking, you might want to look elsewhere, as said monsters are mere supporting players -- and minor supporting players at that. What concerns Fleming most, I think, are more prosaic forms of evil. The key villain, you see, is a human with a serious entitlement complex who's perfectly happy to make a Faustian bargain for the sake of exercising petty power over others. And yes, let's face it: While we're highly unlikely to confront Cthulhu-type beasts in our day-to-day lives, we will confront sociopaths who think nothing of scuttling basic morality and human decency for their own personal gain.

Whether you believe in the Biblical Fall of Man or not, there's no question that the human condition is flawed in a profound and fundamental way -- which means that our fight against corruption and evil will never truly be over (at least, not until the End of Days). In an oblique way, Fleming acknowledges this reality -- and out of all the positive qualities of Spring, this is probably what I appreciate most.

Final Verdict: Recommended.

Surfing the Human Wave: Sam Schall's Vengeance from Ashes

Are you looking for some more military science fiction? Well, yes, of course you are! You're reading this blog, after all, and this blog has a history of boosting books with military themes. Which is why when I came across Sam Schall's Vengeance from Ashes, I thought it'd be an appropriate selection for one of my traditional weekly reviews. Vengeance stars a Marine captain by the name of Ashlyn Shaw who, years ago, was unjustly convicted of war crimes, stripped of her rank, and shipped to a brutal military prison with several of her fellow soldiers. When the book opens, a change in presidential administrations has finally opened the way to Shaw's pardon -- but, of course, the people behind her incarceration are still waiting in the wings and are still willing to make trouble in order to cover up their own treason.

Vengeance is intended to be the first book of series, so fair warning: You will find no satisfying resolution here just yet. What you will find is a lot of set-up. You get the sense, for example, that Shaw's antagonists are cooperating with the enemy, but by the end of the novel, you are no closer to understanding the motivations behind their betrayal of their own government than you were at the start. It is also strongly suggested that Shaw's final mission before her imprisonment resulted in a great deal of collateral damage, but here too, the full story is withheld.

I also feel, personally, that Schall's writing is repetitive in parts. Once you've shown that the guards at the aforementioned prison have been violating regs and abusing their prisoners - including Shaw herself - the point doesn't have to be belabored. Similarly, once you've established that Shaw is determined to protect the other members of her team, you don't need to keep mentioning her loyalty in the narration. Shaw's actions should hammer the idea home just fine. Indeed, I think it's better for a character's behavior to speak for itself.

Still, the incompleteness and occasional redundancy aside, the larger story launched by Vengeance has potential. In particular, I'm hoping that future installments will tell us more about Fuercon's internal and external enemies. How did their conflict with Fuercon arise, and what exactly do they want? If the next book offers more back-story and more world building, I will be even more engaged in Shaw's story and more eager to see her succeed.

Final Verdict: Recommended, But With Notes

Surfing the Human Wave: Vicky Bastedo's Roots Entwine

As you may have guessed, I'm still struggling to get back on my normal reviewing schedule. Today, though, I finally finished the ARC of Roots Entwine that Vicky Bastedo was kind enough to send me, and while the book has not yet been officially released and may undergo some changes between now and then, I do have some preliminary thoughts.

Roots Entwine is a fantasy bildungsroman in which the sheltered teenaged protagonist is recruited for a quest and, along the way, learns more about the world in which he lives and about the contours of his own peculiar gifts. The main character, Joaquin, possesses the magical ability to enhance his own senses to the point that he can hear a man's heart beating even at great distances, but because he is young and has not yet learned discipline, said ability is often disruptive and disabling rather than a source of strength. 

The novel is primarily written from Joaquin's perspective, which brings with it a few common downsides. Unfortunately, the adult characters are rather under-developed. We are told several times, for example, that the elders of Joaquin's home clan love him dearly -- but that doesn't square with their years-long refusal to acknowledge Joaquin's existence in public. We also see Joaquin's travel companions become intensely protective and fiercely loyal to the boy -- but the text doesn't really provide solid reasons for this affection beyond a few scattered fragments of exposition. On the whole, many characters behave in ways that, to me, just don't have sufficient psychological justification. People - including strangers - warm to Joaquin simply because he's the hero, darn it, and that's the way it has to be.

Bastedo's magic system, however, has promise. I like that Phoshat has a price; imposing that sort of limitation forces the characters to rely on more than just magic to get out of trouble and accomplish their goals. I also feel that the characterization of Joaquin himself is likely to resonate with young readers who are neurologically atypical. Children and teens with sensory processing or autism spectrum disorders will no doubt relate to Joaquin's difficulties navigating - and tolerating - a busy town marketplace -- and with Joaquin's longing to be accepted as he is.

As noted, Roots Entwine hasn't been released by its publisher, so I do not have a direct Amazon link. I do, however, have a link to the imprint in question, so if anything I've said here piques your interest, feel free to visit the publisher's website and keep an eye out. I myself am curious to see if some of the criticisms I shared above are addressed in the final version.

Final Verdict: Recommended, But With Notes