Book Review: Constellation Games / Author: Leonard Richardson / Publisher: Candlemark & Gleam / Release Date: Out Now

I am as guilty as the next person of judging books by their covers. Part of me believes that an artist worth their salt would be inspired by a wonderful novel and create a matching masterpiece that sums up the very essence of the tale on one striking image. Or at the very least take a single moment and make it a visual treat.

But here we have a cover of grey shapes that – only after a few moments – is identifiable as a hand controller for a (non copyright infringing) games console. The reason for this image is obvious but hardly inspiring. Maybe an image of someone playing space invaders with genuine space ships would have been too obvious, but what do I know?

Beyond the distracting disappointment of the cover lies a true gem of a book.

If Douglas Copland wrote sci-fi this is the sort of novel he would produce. Witty and firmly anchored in the mundane, while showing flashes of sarcastic brilliance that don’t distract from the ongoing narrative.

The basic plot concerns Ariel, a perfectly normal and largely disgruntled games designer, and his reaction to an alien fleet making first contact. It is presented so well that it is now quite hard to imagine first contact going any other way.

Aliens show up via the gift of a wormhole and begin mining the moon for materials to build a space station. He reasons that, if the aliens have computers, they must have computer games. And Ariel knows his computer games. As a game programmer and obsessive game reviewer, he wants to study and translate the aliens’ videogames.

The narrative is littered with chat room dialog  between friends and aliens, reviews of games specifically created for this novel and enough pop culture references to placate your inner geek while not so many as to instantly date the book.

With some notable exceptions (Ian Banks‘ Fritz Leiber and Dicks) there isn’t a lot of Sci-fi dealing with the actual gaming aspects of alien culture. In film/TV we have episodes of Trek, Sarah Jane and (the most obvious) Last Star Fighter. But these largely use games in a different way. Richardson seems to have done something different and truly significant with it.

In the novel there are a multitude of intriguing characters such as Curic, an alien whose mind has allowed it to become mixed up in two different conspiracies as to what to do with humans  now that contact has been made. Or Tetsuo, another alien with a need to teach increasingly odd collage courses as well as impart knowledge about alien computer games. The main problem that the aliens seem to have is that most of the aliens previous contacts seem be fossilized/long dead civilizations or worse ones that suffer an advanced form of culture shock at learning they are not alone.

There are also well drawn human characters a-plenty to give the most geek friendly view of an earth visitation you will find this side of Clark. This is a simply impressive first novel. Expect great things from Richardson in future.

Don’t just take my word for it. The first two chapters are available for free download from the publisher as well as a variety of downloadable/serialised versions for your electronic device. All this on top of the trusty paperback format.

Book Review: The Gathering Dark / Author: Leigh Bardugo / Publisher: Indigo / Release Date: Out Now

Fantasy novels aimed at the young adult audience tend to run along familiar lines; there’s usually some sort of pathetic protagonist (usually with a hidden power), an obvious love interest and then a rival to spice things up. Typically, this is enhanced with a smattering of action and a healthy dose of fun and romance. Leigh Bardugo’s The Gathering Dark delivers all these things, but does so in such a way that the formula really doesn’t matter. This is a guilty pleasure for those who like a bit of romance in their fantasy novels.

The story takes place in the land of Ravka; imagine Russia, but one under constant threat from a realm made of shadow, that spits out winged monstrosities. It’s a country that is locked in a war with a constant threat, and has become reliant on its cadre of elite sorcerers known as Grisha. Of course, the central heroine (an orphan called Alina) discovers that she has magical powers and gets dragged into the politics of these magical beings. The Grisha themselves are described as beautiful, almost gothic creatures, but also rife with petty politics and schoolyard envy.

Much of the book is filled with this sort of thing; it’s the Grisha who really take centre stage here, with poor Alina not really shining until much later on, and that’s the point. This is the sort of world where one of the most useful magical powers is supernatural cosmetic surgery, and it doesn’t seem at all weird. Be warned that this is not a book for those looking for fantastic feats of violence or an in-depth examination into the perils of power and responsibility. It’s a fun little romance story with fantastic trappings, wrapped up in a setting that is as delightful as it is dark. Older hands may have seen this all before, but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable.

Book Review: Joe & Me / Author: David Moody / Publisher: This Is Horror / Release Date: June 18th

As part of their inaugural chapbook publishing project, British horror website This Is Horror have pulled off something of a coup. David Moody, author of the Autumn and Hater series, has given them an exclusive release of his short story, Joe & Me. This book is limited to 500 copies and is a real collector’s item.

It is the tale of eight year old Joe, whose father is a stay at home dad and whose mother is a scientist, working hard to try to save the world. Working for the military, she finds that she has dual motives for her work; her own research involves inventing an airborne medicine that can be pumped into the atmosphere, whilst the military have other, more darkly nefarious intentions for her studies. When the military pull the plug on her lab, Joe and his dad sell the family home and move into the facility so that she can carry her investigations on. As is the case with most stories like this, the military decide to release what they have into the atmosphere without proper trials or testing with disastrous results and the central protagonists find themselves in a race against time to try and remedy what has happened.

As this is a short story, you’d expect a lack of character development, but because Moody concentrates on the family paradigm and allows everything else to occur on the periphery of the tale, you really buy into the events and want the family to succeed. However, as fans of Moody will attest, you know that’s never going to happen, but it’s still a heart-wrenching moment when you realise that all may be lost.

Satisfyingly morose, the tone of the story moves from normality to apocalyptic, encompassing scientific research and military strategy as well as the family unit, but it never seems rushed or cramped into the parameters of the narrative. It feels like it’s the teaser for a full novel, and one that would be welcomed by fans of this type of literature. For a short, it takes a lo-fi route to an unavoidable apocalypse, and we are left wanting to know so much more. Let’s hope that the upcoming chapbooks in the series from other writers are of a similar ilk.

Book Review: Crystal Silence / Author: Fujisaki Shingo / Publisher: Kurodahan Press / Release Date: Out Now

Kurodahan Press is a publisher of East Asian literature with an eye-catching line in Japanese hardcore SF. Crystal Silence, the latest of their offerings, is an exhilarating and at times bewildering tour de force that encompasses space opera and cyberpunk spree.

The first novel (from 1999) by prolific genre author and science writer Fujisaki Shingo, Crystal Silence is set in the near future, where Mars is being colonized and laboriously terraformed. The remains of some shellfish-like creatures are unearthed in the northern polar ice cap, and bioarcheologist Saya Askai is sent on a mission to find out what this discovery might tell her about previous life on the planet.

In itself, the premise is nothing very new, but Shingo elaborates it with great verve into the sort of kinetic, multi-stranded narrative typical of Japanese manga and anime. Saya has to cope with mutating viruses, telepathic cyborgs, weird gravitational anomalies and beautiful but enigmatic crystal flowers. A lot of the action takes place on the plane of virtual reality, to bizarre and mind-bending effect, as an advanced form of artificial intelligence comes to the heroine’s aid. What raises the story above the level of The Martian Chronicles-meets-Tron is Shingo’s cool, cerebral style and obvious braininess – both of which shine through Kathleen Taji’s excellent translation. As with Stanislaw Lem and Olaf Stapledon, this is SF to make the veins on your temples throb. Just the thing if you’re up for a challenge.

Book Review: The Inheritance / Author: Robin Hobb, Megan Lindholm / Publisher: Harper Voyager / Release Date: Out Now

Megan Lindholm and Robin Hobb are the same writer, two sides of the same coin, if you will. The former fills half of The Inheritance with seven short stories, while the latter takes only three, including the title story. With such contrasting styles on offer, there’s a possibility that they may clash, each making the other seem redundant. They don’t; in fact, they compliment each other brilliantly. The Inheritance is a superb collection of tales, even the longest of which never outstays its welcome.

Lindholm is first, starting with the brilliant A Touch of Lavender, the longest of her stories. Here, mankind has had contact with an alien race, the members of which live on our planet like refugees. It’s a fascinating tale of addiction and poverty, with characters any reader could sympathise with. It drew me in completely, stripping me of my surroundings and enveloping me with its warmth. For me this was the best of the Lindholm tales, with Silver Lady and the Fortyish Man coming a close second; again, the characters and the situation are enthralling, even if the ending is slightly predictable. The other stories are excellent, suffering only in comparison with the two fantastic tales that start the novel. For me, Cut is the weakest. The author herself admits her concern that such stories shout their morality at the reader, and while there may have been no bellowing from the highest tower, the message was clear from the start.

That’s a petty grievance, though. The Lindholm stories were so impressive, I doubted Hobb could be equally as good. I read Hobb’s Farseer Trilogy years ago, and while I enjoyed it, I felt the story was bogged down slightly by its description. Surely, with short stories twice as long as those I’d just read, I’d be disappointed to find them to be the same.

I was delighted to be proved wrong. Yes, there’s more description – a lot more – but never does it feel forced or unnecessary, an info-dump so the narrative can move on. Homecoming could have suffered so much with its wealth of description, yet every word is made relevant. Hobb’s stories are much longer than the Lindholm tales, they never suffer for their length; on the contrary, they are better for it. Hobb’s tales are set in the world of her books, although my limited knowledge of it didn’t prevent my enjoyment of all of them. Parts reminded me of what I’d liked about the Farseer Trilogy (how could I forget about The Wit?), while others made me want to read more. While the first two stories are very good, it was the last, Cat’s Meat that I favoured. What could have slipped into melodrama at the hands of a lesser writer is made into something much more by Hobb’s talent, with the lead character’s despair almost dripping from the page. It’s beautifully done, with a crafty twist at the end.

I enjoyed every moment spent reading this book. Strip away the fantasy elements of each tale, and you have sympathetic characters reacting to situations in a believable way. Both author’s styles, however contradictory, contain the same fluid, thoughtful prose that is the product of any good writer. It’s a book I’d recommend to everyone; those who don’t like cats may have to look beyond the cover, but what waits on the pages in between is nothing short of breathtaking.

Book Review: Weird Space – The Devil’s Nebula / Author: Erric Brown / Publisher: Abaddon Books / Release Date: May 29^th

If you took a dash of Blake’s 7, a hint of Serenity, stir in some classic science-fiction mystery adventure and then gave it a good shake with a steady hand, the result would be something very similar to Eric Brown’s latest book, The Devil’s Nebula.

The plot follows the adventures of the crew of the battered old starship, The Paradoxical Poet. Said crew is a rag-tag band of space exploring rogues, who are trying to keep a low profile from the totalitarian Expansionist Regime, who also happen to be the largest and most well-equipped faction of humans in the galaxy. The action is well paced, the story familiar enough to make this an effortless read but different and clever enough to entertain and excite. Brown spins a good yarn, and though this isn’t going to win any sort of award for innovation, if they handed out prizes for fun, it’d win hands down.

This is light reading, and that suits the story perfectly. One of the drawbacks with the book is that it’s quite short; at under 300 pages it’s a great choice for someone looking for something to do on a long journey, but it does mean that you’re left wanting more. Elements of this setting are introduced and then left tantalisingly unexplored. Though this adds much needed spice to the world, it also leaves the reader hungry for more detail.

Squeamish types should be warned that Brown has a talent for the strange and Freudian, so some of the descriptions of some of the things in The Devil’s Nebula aren’t for the easily grossed out. Personally I found this added to the sense of cheeky fun that pervades the novel. The book lines itself up nicely for a sequel, and I gather it’s the first in a series. I’d quite like to see more of the crew of The Paradoxical Poet. Let’s hope that, unlike the crew of the Serenity, that this series doesn’t end before it’s time.

Book Review: Promiscuville – Rise of the Dead / Author: Chris Wade / Publisher: Wisdom Twins Books / Release Date: Out Now

Where can I begin? Where, oh where can I begin? As I laboured my way – and trust me, this was a real labour – through Chris Wade’s self-published zombie horror novella Promiscuville I kept looking for some clue, some hint somewhere that this was actually a foreign language book badly translated into English. Surely there can be no other explanation for something as laughably shoddily-written as this tacky, sloppy, sleazy little book? But the sad truth appears to be that this has been written in what Chris Wade might purport to call his first language. English. Shakespeare’s language. We’ve come a long way, baby…

Promiscuville: Rise of the Dead is trash. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; trash, in the right hands, can be breezily entertaining if you’re in the right frame of mind and it’s done with the necessary style and sense of self-awareness. But it appears that Chris Wade has written his horrible, clumsy, ugly little book in the genuine belief that it’s reflecting modern society, the decline of morale standards, that it encapsulates what he sees as Britain’s disintegrating social standards. I’m not sure about all that, it’s possibly a debate best left to Question Time; but if nothing else Promiscuville stands as an appalling testament to tumbling educational standards if its author genuinely believes that it has any worth as any sort of publishable literature. It’s hard to believe that Chris Wade has read any other books ever if he honestly felt that he’d created something here that should ever see the light of day. At best Promiscuville resembles the sort of fiction very immature teenagers who’ve watched too many horror films fancy writing because they think it’s really cool and look, I’m using swear words like grown-ups do.

This tosh purports to be set somewhere in the UK in “a place so foul and overrun with wild debauchery they really should have taken it off every single map commercially available”. This once-thriving industrial town has, apparently, become “the epitome of sin” – and with a name like Promiscuville it’s hardly surprising. I daresay neighbouring Shagtown’s not much better. Unfortunately Wade’s not skillful enough to actually tell us what’s so bad about the place; it seems to be full of losers and sleazebags and, interestingly, “the largest amount of drunks in the western world.” That seems to be about it as Promiscuville doesn’t introduce us to anyone much more debauched than any modern city’s ragtag collection of largely-harmless down-and-outs.

The plot – and the word has never been used in any looser sense – seems to concern a woman in psychiatric care suspected of murdering her husband. He was, it seems, “a right scummy piece of rubbish” but his wife tells of a rabid inhuman creature which actually did the deed. An appallingly-worded newspaper report states, interestingly, that “it’s not yet been decided if his wife is the killer.” Who, I wonder, is going to make this momentous decision? To cut a long and utterly pointless story short, there’s a zombie uprising due and soon enough it happens and blah blah blood and gore.

Promiscuville is irredeemably, unremittingly dreadful. The characters are grim, the plotting is non-existent, sentence structure is all over the place, grammar is largely out of the window, dialogue is risible. The long-awaited zombie uprising takes the best part of 100 pages to arrive and suddenly it just happens and the streets of Promiscuville are overrun by zombies who are suddenly described as “mutants”.

I can scarcely begin to scratch the surface in describing how desperately artless and witless Promiscuville is. It really is the worst thing I’ve ever read. It’s supposed to be a condemnation of the decline of society in the 21st century but really it’s just a warning about the dangers and perils of unchecked self-publishing.

Book Review: The Pack / Author: Jason Starr / Publisher: Penguin Books / Release Date: Out Now

Simon Burns is a middling, unexceptional but enthusiastic and hard-working New York businessman whose life is turned upside-down when, entirely without warning, he’s dismissed from his job. His wife Alison becomes the family breadwinner as Simon is forced to become a house-husband, providing day care for their lively three year-old son Jeremy. It’s a frustrating new life for Simon but he’s determined to make it work. One day, at a local park, Simon strikes up  a casual acquaintance with three unusual, distinctive men who quickly become his ’friends’ – and his life will never be the same again. This isn’t, you’ll be relieved to hear, the plot of some dreary American TV Movie of the Week or some drippy Mills & Boon; this is The Pack and it’s a tale of werewolves in modern-day Manhattan.

Thriller writer Jason Starr’s first sojourn into the world of the supernatural is a pacey, visceral page-turner, a vivid urban fantasy full of slow-burn brooding menace and richly-detailed characters. Starr slowly teases out the supernatural elements of his story; initially The Pack looks like little more than a cautionary tale about the stresses and strains of modern American life but things take a distinct turn for the unsettling when Simon finally makes contact with Charlie, Ramon and especially Michael – three very strange men with a very special bond. Settling into his new domestic routine Simon enjoys a night out with the boys – and wakes up naked and alone in a forest halfway across the state. Before long Simon is experiencing ferocious changes in his own personality; his senses and general fitness have improved, his sexual interest and stamina have multiplied and his whole attitude to life changes. But then come the terrible visions and flashbacks of a wild animal tearing a man to pieces – shortly followed by news of his former boss torn to shreds by what’s presumed to be a wolf – halfway across the State on the same night Simon woke up naked and out in the open.

Starr’s hugely-readable, easy style – the characters are genuinely believable if not hugely likable and the dialogue is slick and naturalistic – makes The Pack rattle along and once Simon makes contact with his new ‘friends’ the book starts to change gear as Simon’s personal stakes are suddenly raised. Before long his wife is questioning her husband’s faithfulness and ultimately his sanity as he begins to piece together the terrible truth about what’s happened to him – and the terrible fate which might await Manhattan if he doesn’t make a stand against Michael, the ice cold, charismatic ‘pack leader’.

Starr deftly juxtaposes The Pack’s predominant theme – the importance of family – by contrasting Simon and his nice, normal wife-and-kid life with the irresistible urge to become part of his new feral hunting family as he begins to change into something much stronger and more liberated than he’s ever been before. Simon himself is a bit of an everyman but the pack leader Michael – he’s strong, hypnotic, he speaks in bold, demanding statements – is a powerful, disturbing and dangerous figure. The Pack dispenses with much hoary old werewolf lore; no full moons or silver bullets here. Starr’s werewolves transform at will, at times of great excitement and they can only be killed by having their jaws literally ripped open.

The Pack is the first in a trilogy – The Craving is due out in the summer – and it’s a lively, vibrant if occasionally over-sexual novel (Starr’s obsession with sexual arousal gets a bit tiresome even if it’s fundamental to the development of the plot), its descriptions of New York vividly bring the city to life to the extent that it becomes a character in the novel in its own right. Best of all, there are no easy answers and plenty of loose ends to carry on into the next volume. The Pack is a cracking summer read.

Book Review: Crossing Over / Author: Anna Kendall / Publisher: Gollancz / Release Date: June 24^th

In fantasy novels, young boys with mysterious powers are ten-a-penny, it seems. Anna Kendall’s Crossing Over also comes equipped with a teenage boy with an unusual ability; he has a supernatural talent that allows him to journey to the land of the dead. The main protagonist, a rather unfortunate chap called Roger, is a rather miserable creature. Not only is he an orphan left in the care of an abusive family, he’s a massive coward and more than a bit of a fool. Disaster inevitably strikes and our hero runs from misfortune to misfortune, all the while moaning about his plight and regretting his existence.

In a way, Crossing Over is a sort of beginner’s version of a Robin Hobb novel; strange magic powers, a hostile world and a main character who whines constantly, but in a way that keeps the reader’s sympathy. However, unlike Hobb’s work, Kendall has a looser grip on her world, and many of the situations the hero of Crossing Over encounters seem overly contrived and slightly jarring; our hero has no control of the world around him, and is more of a victim of circumstance than the main character in a novel. They are unreliable narrators, and there are damn near treacherous ones. Roger certainly falls into the latter category, and this does lend the book some character.

What saves Crossing Over from mediocrity however, are a number of rather lovely twists. Though not entirely unexpected, they are wonderfully dark and inspired, and keep the reader on their toes all the way to the end. Be warned that this is the first part of a trilogy (like most fantasy novels), and the conclusion is written with this in mind, which is a pity as it could really do with being self-contained and a little bit longer.

Book Review: Empire of Saviours / Author: A J Dalton / Publisher: Gollancz / Release Date: May 17^th

A schoolboy defends himself against bullies, and instead awakens his magical powers, forcing him to flee the city instead. A strange young girl is placed in an impossible dilemma and has to run for her life. A young warrior goes on a quest of self-discovery; all these are the opening notes of Empire of Saviours, a fun fantasy romp which features of an ensemble cast of quirky adventurers thrust into a sequence of unlikely and highly dangerous events.

Empire of Saviours is one of those quirky fantasy novels where the world competes with the characters for your attention. It is cast in a rather classic mould; the forces of chaos compete with the forces of order to control the fates of everyone within. Magic is feared and oppressive, paladin like warriors roam the land looking to prevent the growth of the supernatural, whilst those affected by such power resist and rebel. Author A.J. Dalton has filled this novel with interesting ideas and clever concepts, and uses them to keep the reader fascinated and interested throughout.

Those of us who grew up reading quest-driven, trope filled fantasy adventures will be on familiar ground here; we have the crazy old codger who happens to be a source of (occasional) wisdom, the potentially powerful yet naïve young boy, the inexperienced but brave warrior and a creature with a mysterious back-story. None of this makes for a poor tale; all these heroes are interesting and fun, if a little familiar. This is a charming fantasy adventure, and though it doesn’t break any new ground, it doesn’t have to, as the characters are compelling enough to carry the story forward.

Those who aren’t into lengthy religious debates (even fantasy ones) are advised to avoid this; however, fantasy fans who like strange gods, stranger sects and mad preachers will find this a lot of fun. It does suffer from being the first in a trilogy, and I do wish that the conclusion was more satisfying. However, there’s a lot of fun to be had here and it’ll make a welcome addition to a summer holiday reading list for fans of epic quests.