Review Category: Books

Review: The Art of Assassin’s Creed IV – Black Flag / Author: Paul Davies / Publisher: Titan Books / Release Date: Out Now

The Assassin’s Creed titles are often overlooked when it comes to their educational properties. Having depicted historical periods from Renaissance Italy to revolutionary America in past instalments, the series has become synonymous with deeply researched and wholly absorbing worlds for players to explore. It only takes one casual stroll around the architectural vistas in Assassins Creed 2, and you’ll wonder if the Italian tourist board has sneaked a few Euros into Ubisoft’s pocket.

Now as Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag crashes upon our shores, Titan have released a book that presents the concept art which has helped form the latest interactive wonder. Covering each location from the Cuban capital of Havana to the gloomy slave plantations of Kingston, this superbly designed art book provides a brief overview of the creative process with some lovely glossy stills to match.

While a large chunk of the book emphasizes how Black Flag is perhaps the most diverse Assassin’s Creed yet, it’s other aspects of the game’s design that prove more interesting. From the fact the games ships were designed from actual records of wreckages, to how the inspiration behind lead character Edward Kenway stemmed from Patrick Swayze’s character in Point Break, the book serves up small details that colour our knowledge of what it takes to create a blockbuster video game of this scale.

It’s the gorgeous production stills however that will keep you coming back: large double-page prints of sea battles and jungle landscapes that could sit proudly above the mantelpiece. Even if you’ve disdained gaming in the past, you’ll find something to admire in the undeniable visual talent at work here.

So if you adore Assassin’s Creed, this book serves as a fantastic collectable. It looks and feels like an art book should, and whilst it can be sketchy on some of the fascinating details, it is still a worthwhile investment for any fan of the series.

Review: Substitute Creature – Tales From Lovecraft Middle School #4 / Author: Charles Gilman / Publisher: Quirk Books / Release Date: Out Now

Substitute Creature is the fourth in the Tales From Lovecraft Middle School series by Charles Gilman but can also be read as a standalone novel. Aimed at approximately 9-11 year olds, the collection follows the continuing adventures of twelve-year-old Robert Arthur.

We meet Robert and his best friend Glenn Torkells as they balance precariously on a narrow ledge, four floors up at Lovecraft Middle School. As you may have guessed, this isn’t your average academic institution. The boys have discovered that the school was built on the remains of Tillinghurst Mansion, the home of mad physicist Crawford Tillinghurst. His bungled experiments have led to the mansion still existing in a parallel universe which can be accessed by portals scattered throughout the school. Through these gates numerous creatures such as snake people and giant insects have appeared to wreak havoc in the school. In this latest instalment, the danger comes from a new librarian who might well be a zombie. What terrible creatures is she trying to free into the school?  

Horror for pre-teens is a small genre but when composed well has the potential to reach cult status, as was achieved by the well loved Goosebumps series by R.L. Stine. Tales From Lovecraft Middle School has all the ingredients to follow in the same footsteps with superb characters, imaginative creatures and fabulous illustrations. The first thing you’ll notice is the cover, a holographic image of the ‘substitute creature’ herself that turns from normal lady to grinning demon in a way that could unnerve an adult let alone children. Fun, freaky and fast-paced, this novel is perfect for those pre-teens who find themselves enjoying a darker style of entertainment but aren’t quite ready for teen content.

Review: Chalk / Author: Pat Cadigan / Publisher: This Is Horror / Release Date: Out Now

Chalk is the first of the This Is Horror chapbooks to be written by a female, and it’s a real break from the preceding releases in that it concentrates on something that we all dreamed about and wanted to experience when we were kids. What if you could have some kind of superpower?

The movie Chronicle touched on this and the responsibility that comes with your new-found abilities, but Cadigan dials it right back in to focus on a childhood friendship that is ripped apart.

Dee (no one calls her by her real name of Daffodil) and Mary discover that by using different coloured chalks and drawing different symbols in their local neighbourhood, in certain places they can disappear in plain sight. Quite literally, they can watch people walking by but they can’t see them back.

When Dee really disappears, Mary has no way of finding her best friend and is made to grow up without her. When she returns to the town many years later, Mary discovers that whilst Dee was lost, she very much doesn’t want to be forgotten.

There are elements to the story that come across as similar to King in prose style and technique, especially those involving the girls’ run-ins with a local belligerent matriarchal figure, but handled in a more concentrated fashion. It’s short, snappy, intriguing and engaging; an understated tale of loss and woe – with special powers.

Review: Collected Ghost Stories / Author: M.R. James / Publisher: Oxford University Press / Release Date: Out Now

When one sits down to read a story called ‘Oh, Whistle, and I’ll Come to You, My Lad‘ and the protagonist briefly dwells on a strange whistle that he finds at the beach, the reader will immediately think ‘well, it doesn’t take a genius to work out how it’s going to go’. So it’s a great testament to James’ ability that he still manages to surprise the reader in this collection of highly interesting ghost stories. (Bonus points for the fact that the monster of the story retains the power to creep you the hell out after so many years.)

For those unfamiliar with the stories, it’s recommended that you treat the introduction as an afterword and it’s difficult to argue with this. If, like us, you feel that these kinds of introductions can read a little too much into their subjects, you can always just skip it and still be happy with the wealth of material on display here. (And if you love such things you’ll be in geek heaven.)

As for the stories themselves, while they may not necessarily be the work of ‘the most terrifying writer in English’ (that’s a matter of personal preference, really), it’s clear that James’ strong point was creating an atmosphere of dread rather than going for full-on gore and bloodshed. Our favourites were ‘The Ash Tree’, ‘Number 13’ and ‘The Treasure Of Abbot Thomas’. Of these, ‘Number 13’ is the best due to the fact that even in 1904 he recognises a skeleton under the floor was very clichéd. So he addresses it and basically says ‘nope, not happening’.

One has to remember that these stories, before ever being published, were read out loud to select gatherings of his friends. When the stories are read now, they conjure up not just the atmosphere of the stories themselves, but of rooms lit by log fires as an ageing academic reads out his latest story with his friends hanging on his every word.

But then maybe we’re reading too much into it.

Review: The Wasteland Saga / Author: Nick Cole / Publisher: Harper Voyager / Release Date: Out Now

An omnibus edition of a trio of linked tales, The Wasteland Saga is comprised of the post-apocalyptic short novels The Old Man and the Wasteland, The Savage Boy and The Road Is a River.

Forty years after the world was devastated by nuclear war, individuals and small communities struggle to survive amidst the radioactive wasteland of what was once the United States. An Old Man tries to prove his continued worth to himself by braving the shattered void to salvage whatever may still remain functional; after the death of his guardian, a Boy makes his way across the country to fulfil his mentor’s dying wish; and the dauntless optimism of the Old Man’s granddaughter ends up inspiring hope to those who no longer have any.

When the term post-apocalyptic is used to describe a work of fiction, it can often conjure images of decaying cities populated by warring bands of marauders who look like hybrids of Sex Pistols fans and extras from The Warriors, battling over some retro-sci-fi Macguffin while the last vestiges of humanity disintegrate before your eyes. However, The Wasteland Saga is a less expansive and much more personal experience. Although some sci-fi themes are present – particularly towards the climax of The Road Is a River – any futuristic aspects of the novels are very much secondary to the human drama that drives them. Characters are rarely given actual names; the primary protagonists of the Old Man and the Boy are continually referred to as such, even in moments of self-contemplation, as though a sense of true personal identity is a luxury few can afford.

The Old Man and the Wasteland, right from its title and continuing to its events and themes, intentionally draws parallels between itself and Ernest Hemingway’s novel The Old Man and the Sea. The novel is the Old Man’s favourite book and he often imagines himself talking to its protagonist, acknowledging the direct resemblance between his own plight and the book’s plot.

The Savage Boy has a similar structure and style: an unnamed protagonist ventures alone out into the scorched earth, the unforgiving environment pushing him to the limits of his physical and psychological endurance. Instead of the fisherman Santiago, the Boy instead has silent conversations with the soldier who raised him, imagining what advice he would give the Boy on how to react to a given situation, his perceived thoughts often different from the Boy’s initial reaction.

The Road Is a River takes its cue from The Savage Boy‘s conclusion, and follows the Old Man and his granddaughter as they travel north in an attempt to save a group of people trapped in a military bunker, the events of the journey stimulating questions about what being human truly means in this damned world.

Less a trilogy in the strictest sense, The Wasteland Saga instead forms a kind of literary triptych anchored by the desolation of the wasteland itself. The Old Man and the Wasteland, revolving around the Old Man’s memories of what he and the world used to be, represents the past; The Savage Boy, detailing the Boy’s regular and often violent encounters with what the world has descended into, shows us the reality of the present; while The Road Is a River is driven by the Old Man’s desire to do the right thing to give his granddaughter hope for a future less relentlessly bleak than the one nuclear war saddled him with all those years ago. The end result more than succeeds in its ambitions.

Review: The Echo / Author: James Smythe / Publisher: Harper Voyager / Release Date: January 16th

A sequel to The Explorer, this book serves as a follow-up to the events of that book and a second expedition to study a mysterious starborne entity known as the Anomaly. It has been twenty years since the last manned expedition encountered it, yet their new efforts to study the object will cost them far more than anyone knows.

Even before getting to the subject of the first person perspective from which the story is told, The Echo is neither an easy-going nor joyful tale. Bleak, mysterious and clinical, the atmosphere of the tale more resembles that of 2001: A Space Odyssey than the average Star Trek episode. The novel ultimately takes its time to try and set up life on-board the ship and building the world around it prior to launch.

While some may be put off by the glacial pace, it skilfully sets an effective tone which makes the shift to the mind-bending unnatural force of the Anomaly that much more disturbing. Few books manage to achieve this sudden shift effectively, but by setting up the events to come it allows the change to feel not as jarring or out of place as it otherwise might. The terse nature of protagonist Mirakel Hyvönen’s thoughts definitely assists, offering often minimal details of the environments and taking note of few things in any great depth. While this would often be a weakness, the absence of lengthy descriptions and arguments makes the sudden focus on the Anomaly all the more engrossing. The same goes for the semi-realistic portrayal of space travel, with enough accuracy to maintain a feeling of naturalism to contrast with what follows.

This isn’t to say the tale is without any human element. Mira’s twin brother Tomas and the crew of the vessel serve as good foils for his own thoughts, giving more emotion to the tale than would be offered by Mira alone. Unfortunately none of them are especially complex. Furthermore, for all the time spent on the initial set-up, the book feels as if it requires its previous instalment to fill out certain details surrounding the world it portrays.

Another significant problem is a conclusion that leaves much unanswered, one that might well frustrate some readers. Yet, while The Echo‘s flaws are obvious, so are its strengths. As an intelligent sci-fi odyssey it holds up extremely well, but it won’t appeal to everyone.

Review: The Quorum / Author: Kim Newman / Publisher: Titan / Release Date: Out Now

Novelist, critic, TV pundit – Kim Newman has had a glittering career. But have you ever wondered about the secret of his success? Then you might be intrigued by The Quorum, an early novel of his that’s now been reissued by Titan. It sees three schoolchums making a Faustian pact with a demonic figure who promises them fame and fortune on the condition that they agree to persecute a fourth friend, Neil, miring him in failure and misery. Interesting, very interesting. Anything you’d care to ‘fess up to, Mr Newman?

Skipping deftly between the ’70s, ’80s and early ’90s, the book charts with sardonic verve the trio’s effortless climb to the top and Neil’s descent into despair and apathy. It’s a lean, tautly plotted tale, and there’s an attack to the writing and a bite to the humour which makes you think of Martin Amis’ brilliant early novels. The Quorum has its flaws – it loses some of its sharpness as the Deal unravels, and the main characters tend to blur together, all part of the same London glitterati. All the same, this is perhaps Newman’s best book outside of his Anno Dracula series (a particular highlight is an arc to do with one of the would-be Fausts, a comic book writer/artist who has penned an Arkham Asylum-style graphic novel about the Boston Strangler and is now set on retconning a DC-type publisher’s stable of superheroes). It comes with several short stories, including Newman’s witty take on over-zealous bibliophiles, The Man Who Collected Barker.

Book Review: Bleeding Skull! A 1980s Trash-Horror Odyssey / Authors: Joseph A. Ziemba, Dan Budnik / Publisher: Headpress / Release Date: Out Now

Taking its cue from the website of the same name, Bleeding Skull is a literary attempt to pry open  the soiled plastic clam case of a decade’s worth of low-budget, often forgotten, occasionally brilliant, but always interesting genre VHS releases that were invariably shot on video; this in the days before digital meant almost everything is.

With the website’s raison d’être clearly set out, the authors have managed to whittle down the thousands of reviews available into a choice selection of three hundred for this fabulous looking book. Don’t go flicking through expecting to see what they think of the likes of A Nightmare On Elm Street or the Friday the 13th sequels. What we have instead are (shit) nuggets from directors such as Don Dohler (Galaxy Invader, Blood Massacre, Fiend, Nightbeast) and Michael J. Murphy (Invitation to Hell, Bloodstream, The Last Night). Relatively well-known films such as Jean Rollin’s Zombie Lake and the heavy metal shocker Trick or Treat sit proudly along with the almost unheard of likes of French slasher Ogroff (aka Mad Mutilator) and Tales From The Quadead Zone, an anthology from the makers of Black Devil Doll From Hell (which, unsurprisingly, also appears in the book). It’s also great to see the scope of the authors isn’t limited to American releases as the infamous British flick Suffer, Little Children (a 1983 film which, despite being made with only domestic equipment by a London acting school, appeared in UK video shops up and down the country) makes an appearance.

Reviewing each film in such a way that even the worst sound interesting and worth tracking down, the authors make a point of not getting bogged down with trivia. This isn’t a behind the scenes book, rarely even dwelling on technical shortcomings (let’s take those as a given). In keeping with the spirit of the subject, the illustrations (of which there are plenty, in the shape of video covers, stills, newspaper ads and screen shots – literally, as in photos taken from TV screens) are suitably lo-fi but perfectly effective.

Bleeding Skull, like the films it represents may not be for the mainstream, but genre fans will love ploughing through the trash on offer.

A limited edition hardback is available on the Headpress website, and the paperback will be available soon. A perfect Christmas present for those nostalgic for the “good old days” of home video.

Review: The Path of Anger / Author: Antoine Rouaud / Publisher: Gollancz / Release Date: Out Now

The debut novel of French author Antoine Rouaud, The Path of Anger is the first instalment of a planned high fantasy trilogy named The Book and the Sword.

A decade after the fall of the Empire, Dun-Cadal Daermon – once its greatest general – is now a bitter drunk haunting the taverns of a remote port city. Spending his time recounting tales of past glories, he is encountered by young historian Viola who is searching for the last Emperor’s sword. But when one by one the new Republic’s founders begin to be murdered in the style of the Imperial Assassin, old ghosts swiftly resurface, harking back to the general’s time fighting the rebellion, and what it all has to do with a mysterious boy named Frog.

The Path of Anger is something of an old-school fantasy novel: big on events and plot, less so on characterisation. Two parallel plotlines dominate: the events of the present where a series of assassinations draws out the past sins of the victims, and flashback sequences between ten and thirteen years previously where a rebellion against imperial oppression in a marshland settlement grows into a full-scale revolution that ends up overthrowing the empire. The circumstances behind this form the main crux of the story, and while the significance of the titular book and sword is brought up late in the tale, their link to events is more than tangential and the mythology behind their creation is an intriguing one.

Other than protagonists Dun-Cadal and Frog, very little effort is made to develop characters, even the nominal antagonist whose introduction as such is a little jarring. It’s a common (and often valid) criticism of fantasy that its female characters are little more than plot devices, and this is sadly no exception. We get a greater sense of who Viola’s near-mute guardian is than the woman herself whose very presence initiates the plot, while Frog’s childhood love Esyld has no personality of her own and serves as little other than a perceived paragon of virtue and the last remaining link to his lost innocence. Additionally, the book’s greatest descriptive language is lavished on how beautiful they both are. Granted, it’s a far cry from, say, the hateful misogyny of Brent Weeks’ Night Angel trilogy, but it still reduces the women to ideals rather than real people.

Rouaud often jumps between various characters’ viewpoints from one paragraph to the next – a style known as head-hopping – meaning that at times a certain amount of concentration is required to keep track of whose thoughts we are currently privy to. This also means that certain plot twists are not hidden because of a character’s lack of knowledge, but simply because of the author’s decision to keep us in the dark. Given that one of the book’s key observations is that events can have wildly different interpretations depending on your perspective, it’s an unfortunate creative choice that robs revelations of true impact. (Although on that subject, there is one reveal that utilises a crafty trick of concealing one plot twist directly behind another.)

As a debut novel, The Path of Anger is competent, certainly, but a little generic for the first instalment of an epic fantasy trilogy. Despite this, it’s still engaging enough to make you want to know what happens next.

Review: Doctor Who – The Vault / Author: Marcus Hearn / Publisher: BBC Books / Release Date: Out Now

Unless you have lived under a rock over the past few months, you will know that Doctor Who celebrates its 50th Anniversary this year, so what better way to get in on the act than with a mammoth coffee table book which commemorates the series through tons of ephemera and merchandise?

Like Hearn’s earlier Vault book on Hammer Films, this isn’t full of “pull-out-and-lose” replica mementos. Instead, we get page after page of photographs of various iconic and memorable items. Presented in a year-by-year format, there are numerous publicity stills, script pages, props and toys. Each year gets a brief overview of what was happening off-screen and on. There may be little here for the die-hard fan who has already devoured every bit of information about the show that they can, but for the newer or more casual fan, it’s an interesting and revealing read. It is not meant as an episode guide either, although there are listings of the stories aired in each year.

Those who do know it all may still enjoy the wealth of rare photos and mouth-watering displays of old merchandise and tie-ins. Turning the pages to discover some long-lost relic of one’s childhood is a fabulous bonus of this type of book. So, seeing photos of the old Weetabix cards, Top Trumps games and the Dalek’s Death Ray ice cream wrapper (this reviewer can still taste the minty chocolate goodness of all those E numbers) certainly helps get the nostalgia juices flowing. Put it on your Christmas list, you will not be disappointed.