#REVIEW: From the Depths, by Emily Renk Hawthorne

I don’t like writing this kind of review.

I was sent this book by Emily Renk Hawthorne’s publicist for a review– not only was I sent this book, but also the first book in the series, in a nice hardcover edition, and when I cracked this open to read it I discovered she’d actually sent me a copy with a signed bookplate in it, which genuinely makes me feel bad about how I’m going to review the book. I’m going to keep this brief: I liked Book One, Of Mountains and Seas, well enough, but it had some problems; my review was mixed but ultimately I liked the book enough to request and read the sequel.

Unfortunately, having completed From the Depths, I feel that it has all of the same problems as the first book, and introduces a few new ones besides, while simultaneously not showing some of the strengths of the first book. Mountains and Seas jumped back and forth among several different periods in time, for example, and rewarded paying attention. This may be the first time I’ve ever complained about a straightforward narrative, but it’s a much simpler text. Mountains and Seas had a clear villain. This book’s bad guy is a nonsentient puddle of silver goo. That’s not a joke.

The author’s habit of choosing the wrong word continues to be an issue as well, and starts off on the very first page, where the word “sinkhole” is repeatedly used to describe the first appearance of the goo. I’m not going to get into the details, but the phenomenon being described in that first chapter is simply not a sinkhole. Sinkholes do not happen indoors.

I gave this two stars on Goodreads and Storygraph; one less than Mountains and Seas. I cannot recommend that you read it. I’ll leave it at that.

From the Depths releases on June 9.

And another one gone

That’s twenty-two years, I think? Twenty-three? Who the hell knows.

One of the things that happened at the event we went to last night was recognition of three retiring faculty members, and in fact there was a reception immediately afterward for them that we did not attend. The three had been teaching for, respectively, 29 years, 36 years, and a staggering 42 years, all at the same school.

If I retire from teaching, rather than eventually just quitting, I’ll surely be at at least 29 years. 36 is quite a bit harder to imagine. But 42? Imagine having taught for 22 years and still having the equivalent of an entire career to go before retirement. She was where I am and was barely halfway through. The notion that I’ll still be alive in 2046 much less still teaching is genuinely too terrifying to take seriously.

It turns out I was being very optimistic by suggesting that I might be able to come home from the last day of school and still have the mental capacity necessary to write a book review. Further complicating the problem is that various parts of my personality are at war with various other parts of my personality over how to write it, and the whole thing still needs to cook a little bit longer. It’s already got the lowest rating I’ve ever given a book I was sent for review; the question remaining is how … I dunno, I wanna say honest, but I think I mean abusive, I should be in the actual text of the thing. I am trying to tamp down my inner barbarian here, is what I’m saying. The only question is whether that’s the right move.

Probably. But we’ll see. The review definitely won’t be tomorrow but I’ll try to have it up on Saturday.

Some recent book opinions

Magnificent, as expected. This book is a little bit less complex than This Inevitable Ruin, which had a ton of moving parts, and it ends in a way that literally caused me to put the book down for a few minutes until I could shut my jaw again. That said, it did expose a weakness in Dinniman’s writing that I hadn’t noticed because I read the previous seven books in such close proximity– this guy doesn’t like to recap anything, and this series has acquired an immense number of tertiary characters. A couple of reveals didn’t hit like they probably ought to have because my first reaction was “Who the hell is that?” rather than shock at whatever just happened. A series reread will be necessary before Book 9, which I assume will come out sometime next week.

Surprisingly cute! I assume “puts the biscuit in the basket” is some sort of hockey phrase, not a gay double entendre, which it certainly sounds like. And speaking as a straight guy, Rachel Reid is surprisingly talented at writing sex scenes between people she doesn’t share equipment with. I was willing to continue on with the series until discovering that apparently in this world the entire NHL is gay, and each book jumps characters. I’d be perfectly happy to read more about Kip and Scott; I’m a little less enthused about a new pair of protagonists with every book, especially considering how backlogged I am right now.

(Also: I wasn’t aware that “gay hockey book” is actually a genre and not just this series. There are other authors writing about gay hockey players! I did not know that.)

I’m reading this right now, and I’m considering not finishing it– not because Carlson isn’t a good writer or Tesla: Inventor of the Electrical Age is poorly written, but because I flat-out don’t understand the science well enough, and while I don’t think you have to be a specialist or an engineer, I think the author is assuming a bit more knowledge and understanding about how electricity and electric motors work than I actually possess. Hopefully I’ll either pick up what I need to know in the next 75 pages or so or he’ll dial back on the technical stuff a bit, because right now this isn’t working for me.

#REVIEW: We Burned So Bright, by TJ Klune

It’s his best book.

It’s his best book. It’s not super close, either; The House on the Cerulean Sea, which is still a book I love immensely, is going to have to be demoted.(*) I sobbed at the end of this book. I am not a sobber. I do not sob, Goddammit.

This book got me.

The story is simple, and told quickly; Bright is a novella, clocking in at only 176 pages, and I read it in a single sitting. The world is about to end, and there is nothing we can do about it; a rogue black hole has been identified in deep space and it is heading directly toward Earth. At the beginning of the book there is about a month left until the planet and every living thing on it ceases to exist. This could have been a huge, doorstopper story, but Klune keeps the focus tight: a married couple, Don and Rodney, who are both in their seventies and have been together for over forty years, and have one last road trip that they have to undertake, one last task that they must complete together, before the end of the world.

I’m not going to tell you much more than that. Klune takes his time revealing the reason for the trip, focusing mostly on Don and Rodney’s relationship and the small number of other people they encounter along the way, including a young family who have not told their children what is coming, a roving community of hippies, and one unfortunate young woman whose mind has broken under the strain of waiting for the apocalypse. It’s clear that there is danger out there; there are references to some areas under martial law, and one panicked flight from a gunfight, but the focus of this book isn’t on a world gone mad or a perilous journey. There are some obstacles to overcome, but this is a quiet book about a quiet pair of men; Klune isn’t interested in telling an action story here.

My sole gripe is minor, and may actually be wrong: I’m pretty sure that a rogue black hole heading toward Earth would not have some of the effects that this black hole has. There’s some fuckery with gravity going on toward the end that I found kind of distracting (and there’s some interesting discussion about said fuckery in the author’s afterword, as apparently how much fuckery to include was a point of contention between author, editor, and early readers) and the black hole manages to eat several other planets on the way to Earth, implying they were all in a nice neat little row for it. This is possible but doesn’t happen very often. The gravity stuff is within artistic license. I’ll live, is what I’m saying, and the only reason it got to me is that I’m an astronomy nerd. The emotional core of the book does not care one whit about what that black hole should be doing, and the emotional core of the book is going to kick you in the ass.

Even if you’ve never read any of Klune’s books before, absolutely pick this one up. Read it on a day when it’s raining outside and you have a few hours to yourself and maybe you’re a little sad. It’ll be worth it.

(*) Third, The Bones Beneath My Skin; fourth, Somewhere Beyond the Sea, then everything else.

#REVIEW: For Whom the Belle Tolls, by Jaysea Lynn

I am tired, and I stayed home sick today, meaning that when I take my son’s graduation day off at the end of the year I’m going to get docked for it. I still feel kind of gross and don’t have a ton of energy, but I want to recognize this book for its Dungeon Crawler Carl level of “has no right to be this good.”

So, with that in mind, a two-sentence review: For Whom the Belle Tolls is, somehow, a warm, witty and delightful book about dying young from cancer and then living and working in Hell, and also about self-acceptance and found family. And hot sex with demons with ribbed cocks.

So, yeah. Maybe that convinces you to read it and maybe it doesn’t. But I had a much better time with this one than I would ever have imagined possible.

#REVIEW: Cursed Daughters, by Oyinkan Braithwaite

This is going to be one of those reviews where I talk more about myself than the book, so … brace yourself, I suppose.

I frequently make snap decisions about books. I learn of their existence and thirty seconds later money has left my bank account and a couple of days later I have a book. The problem comes when I don’t read that book immediately, and it gets worse when it sits on my Unread Shelf for four months.

(There are two books on that shelf that have been there longer. Soon. I swear.)

I have no idea why I purchased Oyinkan Braithwaite’s Cursed Daughters. No idea if someone recommended it to me, if I came across the author on BlueSky and decided I liked her … nothing. And by the time I got to it, I’d also completely forgotten what the book actually was. See, that cover kinda yells “fantasy” at me? And the book has the same physical format and size as every hardcover YA book I’ve bought for years. And note the “from the author of” at the bottom. Come on! You’re telling me My Sister, the Serial Killer somehow isn’t genre fiction??

Cursed Daughters is not a fantasy novel and it is absolutely not YA. It is, in fact, hated Litratcher.

It’s fucking brilliant.

I keep saying this, over and over: you should read more books by Nigerians, goddammit. The book scene out of Nigeria is amazing right now.

This is the second time this year I’ve had to apply the word “brilliant” to a work of genreless Literary Fiction. I remain salty about it. Because this is the only book I’ve read this year that came close to Tom’s Crossing. I need the swords and lasers and magic contingent to step up their damn game, is what I’m saying.

At the beginning of the book a Nigerian woman intentionally walks into the ocean to die. The same day, her cousin Ebun gives birth to a daughter. The baby resembles the dead woman, Monife, to such a degree that Monife and Ebun’s mothers immediately decide that the baby is Monife reincarnated. Ebun is … unconvinced, and frankly quite a bit upset by the entire thing. There is also the minor matter of a generations-old family curse, that no woman of this family can be happy in love.

It’s still not a fantasy book. There’s some traditional beliefs mixed into a book set in the modern day in Lagos, and there’s a juju woman as a minor side character, but it’s not a fantasy book. Ebun believes none of this nonsense, and her daughter Eniiyi wants nothing to do with it either, but has to live her entire life in her dead semicousin’s shadow. She dreams of Monife occasionally, and by the end of the book genuinely resents the effect on her life that this woman she’s never met has. She remains Monife’s spitting image, so when she occasionally runs into people who knew Monife she either provokes shock or is genuinely thought to be a ghost. And as her great-aunt gets older, she begins regularly mistaking Eniiyi for Monife, and eventually her dementia increases to the point where she forgets Eniiyi exists at all.

The book follows three generations of the family, with Ebun and Monife in the middle, and jumps back and forth from the nineties to modern day. You eventually learn why Monife chose to walk into the water, and I’m not going to spoil anything but God damn does it end well— like, “I gasped and had to put the book down for a minute” well. I started this yesterday afternoon, read a chapter or two and put it down. When I picked it up again in bed last night it cost me at least an hour of sleep, and I got home from work today and sat down in my chair and didn’t get up again until I finished it.

Absolutely phenomenal work. I ordered My Sister, the Serial Killer about ten minutes ago. It’ll be here tomorrow. Oyinkan Braithwaite is on my “buy immediately” list forever now, and I’d really like to know what the circumstances were that brought this book onto my radar. If it was you, thank you very much.

#REVIEW: The Reanimator’s Fate, by Kara Jorgensen

Standard disclaimers! Kara Jorgensen and I are mutuals on basically everything, although we have never met, and which precise social media thing we met on has been lost to the mists of time, at least to me. The Reanimator’s Fate is the fourth and final book of the Reanimator Mysteries series and the fifth of their books I have read. Somehow, this will be the first full review I’ve written of one of them— Book Three, The Reanimator’s Remains, got to share a review post with a couple other books, but somehow I appear not to have mentioned the other two books in the series. I’m not sure why— I’ve liked all four of them.

At any rate: The Reanimator Mysteries are the story of Oliver Barlow, an autistic necromancer who works as a coroner, and Felipe Galvan, Oliver’s partner and investigator. Both work for the New York Paranormal Society; they aren’t cops, precisely, but the Society gets brought in on investigations that obviously involve magic in some way, so they keep pretty busy.

Oh, and Felipe’s dead, technically, although nearly no one other than the two of them knows that, and the two are linked through a magical tether that allows some limited psychic linkage between them (strong emotions can bleed through, and they can “tug” on the tether to communicate if they want) and keeps them from being able to get too far apart. Oliver and Felipe are a great couple and I love reading about how they interact with one another; the way they balance each other out is fascinating. Oliver’s issues are a little bit more front and center, especially since he’s the primary character, but Felipe needs Oliver just as much as Oliver needs Felipe.

The Reanimator’s Fate begins with a naked man trying to steal a magic book, which promptly turns his blood to ink and exsanguinates him, just in case you were thinking this was just a romance book.

There is a lot going on in this book, above and beyond the central mystery, to the point where I really wasn’t sure Kara was going to be able to pull the ending of the book off successfully with about 20 pages left. The Paranormal Society itself gets a lot of development in a way that I don’t really want to get into to avoid spoilers, and while everything does knit itself together satisfyingly at the end, I feel like the book could maybe have used another 25 pages or so to breathe.

The problem is I really want to talk about the ending, and I can’t do it especially effectively without indulging in spoilers, which I don’t want to do. This is the last book of the Reanimator Mysteries series, and while Kara doesn’t kill off the main characters or anything like that there is a major status quo shift at the end of the book that fully justifies calling this the last book.

What I’m really hoping for, though, is that this is the last Reanimator Mysteries book, but it’s not the last Oliver and Felipe book, because there’s no real reason it has to be. Kara’s wheelhouse is the nineteenth century (have I mentioned this is a period book? It’s a period book.) and following the characters would involve taking them out of that context, but I really want to see it. I don’t know if that’s the plan or not, but it should be, damn it. The people demand more Oliver and Felipe! I am the people!

Meanwhile, you should read the series so you can join in the popular uprising for more books.

#REVIEW: Of Mountains and Seas, by Emily Renk Hawthorne

Let us take a moment to appreciate this cover, while I collect my thoughts, because I am about to write a review of this book and I’m still not 100% sure what I think of it. So I’ll start with the bit I’m most enthusiastic about, which is that if you’re going to buy this book, get the hardcover, because the paper and the cover feel absolutely amazing in the hand and it looks awesome and it’s somehow less than $10 on Amazon right now. Which … hell, less than $10 for this book may push me into enthusiastic recommendation regardless of whatever else I might think about it.

I was contacted by Emily Renk Hawthorne’s publicist and offered an advance copy of her forthcoming novel From the Depths. That book sounded up my alley, but I hadn’t read the first novel in the series yet, so she went ahead and sent me Of Mountains and Seas, with the idea that I’d read that first and then see if I wanted to read From the Depths as well. I sent a follow-up email at about the 3/4 mark of OM&S asking her to go ahead and pull the trigger on the second book. And this is the part where I want to stare at the screen for a bit, because my opinion on this book is genuinely mixed, but one way or another it’s definitely positive enough that I still want to read the sequel.

Let’s start positive: Of Mountains and Seas is a nicely complicated little novel, with multiple POVs stretched between 1932 or so and the near-present. Parts of the book are set in 1932, 1935, 1936, 1955, 1985, 1990 and 2000, with 2000 being the “now” of the book, and shut up, 2000 is so the “recent” past. There may be another couple of years sprinkled in here and there but that’s good enough for now. There are at least half-a-dozen POV characters, some of whom appear in multiple time periods and some of whom are young enough that we only really see them toward the end of the timeline. Some of them change their names partway through! It can be kinda rough if you’re not paying attention, to be honest. The main thrust of the story is that most of the characters are Shifters, shapeshifters who also possess other magical abilities, almost, but not quite, X-men style— all of them can change shape but some can manipulate rock or affect memories or various other things, and there are also a handful of magical tinctures and other objects as well. Where’s the book set? California, of course, so mostly in the real world. Shifters have their own government set up— indeed, one of the characters is running for office for part of the story— and take careful pains to avoid being noticed by the humans, who they call Statics.

Davis, one of the more important POV characters, is born to a Shifter family, but without powers. This leaves him as an exile within his own family. And then he discovers that special stones exist that will allow him to steal abilities from other Shifters, leaving them powerless (there are also special marks that can be etched into a Shifter’s skin to take away their powers, by the way) and temporarily transferring their powers to him. “Temporarily” can mean for decades or for a much shorter period of time, depending on how powerful the Shifter he stole from was and how often he uses the abilities. At any rate, that kicks off the story, as Davis goes on to make a whole lot of trouble with these stones. Oh, and he also finds a mine full of them.

On a story level, the book is pretty cool. I may actually reread it before I read the sequel; it’s fast, and there’s enough going on that I suspect I’ll need the refresher.

Unfortunately, Emily Renk Hawthorne is one of those writers who consistently violates Twain’s thirteenth rule of writing: Use the right word, not its second cousin. Opening the book to a random page, I see her use pretense when she means pretext. Opening to another, I see someone use the word apparently to describe someone losing a hand, which is not a word someone would use in this particular context. She definitely lost her hand! It’s not there! On the opposite page from that, we have a clunky bit of dialogue where someone reads a cop’s full name to them off of, specifically, their badge. First, you would not say “Thank you, Officer… Brad Smith,” because that’s not how people talk. Second, their badges don’t have full names. Police badges don’t have names at all, in fact! His name may be on his chest somewhere, but it’s almost certainly his rank and last name and maybe a first initial, and that’s gonna be it. There’s lots of stuff like this, lots of little violations of logic and words that are 90 degrees away from being the right word for the context. This will bother some of you more than others. It’s the same exact problem I have with Ryan Cahill, actually. And, interestingly, I begin a review of one of his books by praising the book for the exact same physical things I just praised Hawthorne’s about. I wonder if they used the same printer?

At any rate, this book could have used a bit more editing, so your enjoyment of it will depend directly upon how much the good story distracts you from the less-good writing. I went back and forth; I barely noticed any issues with the first half of the book, then there was one particular chapter that was riddled with problems, and after that I either got a lot more critical or the book got sloppier because I started noticing stuff all over the place. Again, I’m in for the sequel even if I end up having to buy it myself, I’m just hoping for a slightly stronger sophomore effort on the prose front.