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Kara Skinner (332 KP) rated The Band 4: The Air We Breathe in Books
Sep 10, 2019
Genre: Contemporary, Inspirational
Page Count: 324 pages (of nauseation)
Average Goodreads Rating: 3/5 stars (why, Goodreads? You’re usually so tough on books)
My Rating: 1.5/ 5 stars
Truthfully, this is actually a great story. Yeah. So great. It’s the perfect backstory for its horror sequel: The Martins Trump Manson on Body Count.
As a romance it fucking sucks.
I don’t even know where to begin. This book is so full of sugary sap that it makes pasta covered in maple and chocolate syrup and marshmallows look appetizing.
original
Still not as sweet as The Air We Breathe
Here’s the thing: I’m not actually a bitter and cynical person. I like sap and fluff. I smile and giggle during romance scenes, I’ve obsessively written cute and romantic fanfiction and my boyfriend and I were arguably the most nauseatingly cute couple to ever walk the halls of John Bapst Memorial High School.
But I gagged reading this book for the amount of love-doveyness.
Marguerite is on holiday in London, recovering from the sudden deaths of her parents which liberated her from 27 years of being suffocated and controlled by them. While there, she has a random chance encounter with Chase Martin, a depressed rock star exhausted from touring with his band. Chase and Marguerite are drawn together by a strange unknown force. They don’t know why they have such a strong connection to each other, but they do know that life without the other would not be living at all.
I actually really liked the beginning and thought that it would shape up to be an interesting and sweet romance. We see them before they meet in the coffee shop, miserable and depressed, and then while sipping her drink and reading her book, Marguerite feels Chase’s anxiety. So she buys him a decaf drink and gives it to him, saying she could feel his anxiety from across the shop. That’s great.
The two of them realize they’re drawn together and can find each other happiness and Marguerite ends up spending the night at Chase’s house just so they can find comfort in having another human being near them. That’s great, too.
The beginning is by far my favorite part because it has promise for a good story and has more vivid scenes than any other part of the book.
But then it moves too quickly from there.
From that moment on, the two of them are so deep in love they make Romeo and Juliet look reserved and cautious. They are constantly “blown away” by each other and moved to tears every minute by each other. They “get a kick out of” every little joke they make to each other, and they start living together immediately after they meet. After a week (that’s right, a flipping week), Chase proposes to her.
And if I had a pin for every time one of those quoted phrases appeared in this novel, I could pulverize a voodoo doll. The repeated phrases and excessive emotion of the characters is definitely the worst part.
I’m still not that aggravated with this book, yet. Yeah, the insta love irks me, but I figure there will be a great plot with lots of trouble between the two of them after they marry. After all, they barely know each other and they need to figure out what this psychic connection means. Maybe they’re the incarnated souls of Hawkgirl and Hawkman and they’re about to get killed by an immortal psychopath (did I mention I’m a huge nerd?).
Nope. The two of them agree on everything, right down to how to decorate the house and the new rule that shoes are off upon entering. And things continue to be hunky dory for practically forever. All of Chase’s friends, and their girlfriends, love Marguerite and nobody questions their whirlwind romance. Yeah, because a severely depressed person getting engaged after a week of dating isn’t a cry for help or anything.
And there is so much to dislike about Chase’s and Marguerite’s decisions. Marguerite is forced to quit her job so she can move to London to be with Chase.
Never mind that she liked her job in Pennsylvania and didn’t express any wish to be a housewife. Never mind that Chase was getting tired of touring and thinking about quitting the band anyway. It’s her life that gets turned upside down.
Also, so much for her newfound freedom following her parents’ deaths! Now she’s shadowed by a bodyguard wherever she goes, needs to sneak into the backs of restaurant when she wants to eat out, and can’t even walk to the store for fear of being accosted by her husbands’ fans.
Yes, Chase’s life gets changed too. He now has a wife that cooks meals for him, cleans for him, furnishes and decorates his house for him, and hands him a cold towel when he walks off stage. He made some real damn sacrifices when he married Marguerite.
bitch_please_by_teslapunk-d32znko
But life goes on. With a lot of summary and over thirty years, it goes on.
Aside from dialogues and scenes peppered here and there, the book is mostly sweet and sappy summary of their lives. Dark things happen now and then but they’re glossed over and smothered in fluff.
If this storyline was done by a competent writer, this actually could have been an entertaining series about the Martin family. There is actually plenty of material between the psychic connection, Marguerite’s tragic background, a miscarriage, a huge celebrity drugging conspiracy, two sets of twins, a near death experience, and a baby on the doorstep.
But somehow it becomes boring and plotless when it’s all crammed into one book that seems to drag on forever. During all of this my main concern, the psychic connection, was never explained. It’s just a gift from God. One that turns their “perfect” (as in creepily well behaved and mature) children into kids from The Shining. Because they also have a psychic connection. They can “feel” each other and their parents. Oh, and talk to their dead sister, apparently, when their dead sister wants to tell them about babies being left on their doorstep.
“This is Baby Sarah,” Matt said.
“Baby Sarah?” Marguerite asked.
(Both sets of twins) said “Yes. We knew she was coming.”
Chase asked, “How did you know?”
“Baby Margaret told us,” Mark said.
Also, when Chase and Marguerite choose Sarah’s full name, all four children, in a different room, wake up from a dead sleep, sit up in unison, and announce that the baby is named.
May I present the newest additions to the Martin family?
If you want to read a rockstar romance, I recommend Love’s Rhythm by Lexxie Couper, which isn’t perfectly crafted, but leagues beyond The Band 4: The Air We Breathe.
Page Count: 324 pages (of nauseation)
Average Goodreads Rating: 3/5 stars (why, Goodreads? You’re usually so tough on books)
My Rating: 1.5/ 5 stars
Truthfully, this is actually a great story. Yeah. So great. It’s the perfect backstory for its horror sequel: The Martins Trump Manson on Body Count.
As a romance it fucking sucks.
I don’t even know where to begin. This book is so full of sugary sap that it makes pasta covered in maple and chocolate syrup and marshmallows look appetizing.
original
Still not as sweet as The Air We Breathe
Here’s the thing: I’m not actually a bitter and cynical person. I like sap and fluff. I smile and giggle during romance scenes, I’ve obsessively written cute and romantic fanfiction and my boyfriend and I were arguably the most nauseatingly cute couple to ever walk the halls of John Bapst Memorial High School.
But I gagged reading this book for the amount of love-doveyness.
Marguerite is on holiday in London, recovering from the sudden deaths of her parents which liberated her from 27 years of being suffocated and controlled by them. While there, she has a random chance encounter with Chase Martin, a depressed rock star exhausted from touring with his band. Chase and Marguerite are drawn together by a strange unknown force. They don’t know why they have such a strong connection to each other, but they do know that life without the other would not be living at all.
I actually really liked the beginning and thought that it would shape up to be an interesting and sweet romance. We see them before they meet in the coffee shop, miserable and depressed, and then while sipping her drink and reading her book, Marguerite feels Chase’s anxiety. So she buys him a decaf drink and gives it to him, saying she could feel his anxiety from across the shop. That’s great.
The two of them realize they’re drawn together and can find each other happiness and Marguerite ends up spending the night at Chase’s house just so they can find comfort in having another human being near them. That’s great, too.
The beginning is by far my favorite part because it has promise for a good story and has more vivid scenes than any other part of the book.
But then it moves too quickly from there.
From that moment on, the two of them are so deep in love they make Romeo and Juliet look reserved and cautious. They are constantly “blown away” by each other and moved to tears every minute by each other. They “get a kick out of” every little joke they make to each other, and they start living together immediately after they meet. After a week (that’s right, a flipping week), Chase proposes to her.
And if I had a pin for every time one of those quoted phrases appeared in this novel, I could pulverize a voodoo doll. The repeated phrases and excessive emotion of the characters is definitely the worst part.
I’m still not that aggravated with this book, yet. Yeah, the insta love irks me, but I figure there will be a great plot with lots of trouble between the two of them after they marry. After all, they barely know each other and they need to figure out what this psychic connection means. Maybe they’re the incarnated souls of Hawkgirl and Hawkman and they’re about to get killed by an immortal psychopath (did I mention I’m a huge nerd?).
Nope. The two of them agree on everything, right down to how to decorate the house and the new rule that shoes are off upon entering. And things continue to be hunky dory for practically forever. All of Chase’s friends, and their girlfriends, love Marguerite and nobody questions their whirlwind romance. Yeah, because a severely depressed person getting engaged after a week of dating isn’t a cry for help or anything.
And there is so much to dislike about Chase’s and Marguerite’s decisions. Marguerite is forced to quit her job so she can move to London to be with Chase.
Never mind that she liked her job in Pennsylvania and didn’t express any wish to be a housewife. Never mind that Chase was getting tired of touring and thinking about quitting the band anyway. It’s her life that gets turned upside down.
Also, so much for her newfound freedom following her parents’ deaths! Now she’s shadowed by a bodyguard wherever she goes, needs to sneak into the backs of restaurant when she wants to eat out, and can’t even walk to the store for fear of being accosted by her husbands’ fans.
Yes, Chase’s life gets changed too. He now has a wife that cooks meals for him, cleans for him, furnishes and decorates his house for him, and hands him a cold towel when he walks off stage. He made some real damn sacrifices when he married Marguerite.
bitch_please_by_teslapunk-d32znko
But life goes on. With a lot of summary and over thirty years, it goes on.
Aside from dialogues and scenes peppered here and there, the book is mostly sweet and sappy summary of their lives. Dark things happen now and then but they’re glossed over and smothered in fluff.
If this storyline was done by a competent writer, this actually could have been an entertaining series about the Martin family. There is actually plenty of material between the psychic connection, Marguerite’s tragic background, a miscarriage, a huge celebrity drugging conspiracy, two sets of twins, a near death experience, and a baby on the doorstep.
But somehow it becomes boring and plotless when it’s all crammed into one book that seems to drag on forever. During all of this my main concern, the psychic connection, was never explained. It’s just a gift from God. One that turns their “perfect” (as in creepily well behaved and mature) children into kids from The Shining. Because they also have a psychic connection. They can “feel” each other and their parents. Oh, and talk to their dead sister, apparently, when their dead sister wants to tell them about babies being left on their doorstep.
“This is Baby Sarah,” Matt said.
“Baby Sarah?” Marguerite asked.
(Both sets of twins) said “Yes. We knew she was coming.”
Chase asked, “How did you know?”
“Baby Margaret told us,” Mark said.
Also, when Chase and Marguerite choose Sarah’s full name, all four children, in a different room, wake up from a dead sleep, sit up in unison, and announce that the baby is named.
May I present the newest additions to the Martin family?
If you want to read a rockstar romance, I recommend Love’s Rhythm by Lexxie Couper, which isn’t perfectly crafted, but leagues beyond The Band 4: The Air We Breathe.
Mandy and G.D. Burkhead (26 KP) rated Sir Apropos of Nothing in Books
May 20, 2018
Shelf Life – Sir Apropos of Nothing Skewers the Hero’s Journey
Contains spoilers, click to show
Fantasy and satire are two of my favorite genres in any medium, but especially so in books. Satirical fantasy, then, holds a special place on my shelves. I grew up on Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series, and desire to imitate him and his style is what led me in middle school to begin writing in earnest, for fun, and for myself rather than just for my teachers and their assignments.
So when I picked up Sir Apropos of Nothing, I did so based on the title pun and the back-of-the-book synopsis that promised “a berserk phoenix, murderous unicorns, mutated harpies, homicidal warrior kings, and – most problematic of all – a princess who may or may not be a psychotic arsonist.” I expected another lighthearted riff on the familiar archetypes. Murderous unicorns? Unicorns are not typically described as such! Oh teehee, how unexpectedly humorous!
Sir Apropos of Nothing is a satirical fantasy, just like it promised, though at times it’s hard to tell how much of the story is played for laughs and how much is played straight. See, the thing about satire that’s easy to forget at times is that it’s not synonymous with buffoonery. Make no mistake – Apropos is a funny book, full of witty dialogue and groan-inducing puns. It’s a book that takes great delight in lampshading traditional fantasy tropes and archetypes, as well as the entirety of Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey idea. But it is not always a silly lampshade; sometimes a cliche or trope is pointed out to have its inherit ridiculousness laughed at, and sometimes it is pointed out because it is causing real and lasting pain or damage, either to the society in which it is set or, more often, to the titular Apropos himself and his ever-degrading esteem of both the people around him and himself.
The tone, at first, is hard to pin down. The story starts in media res with the main character being caught by a knight while in mid-coitus with that knight’s wife and escalates from there. The second chapter opens with a fourth wall-breaking narrative admission by Apropos himself that this was done with the express purpose of catching your attention, and now we’re going back to cover Apropos’s childhood, which ends up being equal parts dark, tragic, punny, and conveniently trope-filled – all of which Apropos, as narrator, approaches with the same resigned, blasé outlook.
If this sounds a bit jarring, well, it kind of is. Early on, I wasn’t sure what to think of where the story was trying to go or what I was expected to feel about it. After the first turn from cliché to dark and visceral to light and punny, all within a few pages, I caught myself thinking, “Crap, is this book gonna try and mix goofy jokes with serious drama and thoughtful moral quandary?”
The answer is yes. And it pulls it off fantastically.
This is due in large part to the interesting depths of the antihero, Apropos, who seems to be so named purely for the joke in the title. In Apropos we see a deep sense of justice and rightness that is entirely eclipsed by an even deeper cynicism and an unshakeable instinct for self-preservation. His life is objectively terrible, but rather than brood and lament, he adjusts. He keeps his head down when he can, weathers abuse when he can’t, and learns to deal with the constant shit storm, all the while bottling his growing anger and resentment at a world that would allow such amounts of suffering and hypocrisy to go unchecked. The fact that he himself becomes a selfish, hypocritical, and generally awful person is not lost on him, and the result is a flawed, unheroic, pathetic coward of a protagonist, a magnificently multifaceted bastard who doesn’t spare even himself from his vast and withering contempt.
And it’s a blast. It really is. Apropos is refreshingly pragmatic and unabashedly pessimistic, a welcome change from the typical righteous-yet-humble heroes of traditional fantasy, or even the loveable and untalented everyman in over his head of traditional fantasy spoofs. Despite a portentous birthmark (on his ass, no less) and beginnings that are not “humble” so much as “poverty of the dirtiest kind,” Apropos is everything a hero should not be short of outright evil.
And this, as it turns out, is entirely the point. This is where the satire, funny or otherwise, really shines through. This is the crux that elevates Sir Apropos of Nothing from a generically self-aware fantasy story to an original and memorable subversion of storytelling as a whole.
Without giving too much away, there comes a point in the plot where Apropos realizes that the events surrounding his miserable life are part of a heroic tale that has been preordained by Fate and is now being epically written out by Destiny. And despite his birthmark, his tragic past, and his mother’s constant reassurances that he has some sort of great destiny hovering over him, he is not the hero. He is only a minor character. A walk-on role on the hero’s stage. A brief pit-stop along the hero’s journey. An NPC whose dreams, desires, and continued existence are so far below importance to the story as to be utterly negligible.
And once this finally clicks with him, he violently, brazenly rebels against it. He gives an emphatic middle finger to Fate’s ideas and sets about making Destiny sit up and take notice of him again. He momentarily and violently overcomes his own abject cowardice just long enough to find a way to completely wreck the traditional heroic ballad in which he lives, all on the basis that, dammit, the world owes him more than this, and nobody should be so miserably cursed as to live their entire life as a foil character.
At this point in my own reading, I didn’t know whether to cheer him on or worry about the repercussions of his actions, because he doesn’t suddenly become heroic when this happens. He’s exactly as much of a selfish, lying bastard as before, and however bad you feel for him, you can completely understand why he was never cast for this role in the first place. Add to this the complete disregard of the author for following what seems to be the obvious progression of events in favor of twists that take you completely by surprise, but still make complete sense and arise organically from the story itself, and you eventually give up thinking that you have any sense of where the story’s going or how any event is going to play out. From beginning to end, it feeds you familiar ideas and then completely subverts them, introduces clichés and then proceeds to tear them apart, and you laugh and pity and feel something the entire way through.
In short, Sir Apropos of Nothing is a book that will keep you turning page after page – not necessarily because of the gripping drama (although it has that) or because of any breezy humor (although it has that too), or because the narration itself oozes suspense (although it often does), but because, with the rapid infusion of new and creative ideas and the hidden depths of character constantly bubbling to the surface in everyone involved, you honestly never know what’s going to happen next. If you like fantasy and can stand to have your expectations messed with, Apropos is certainly apropos.
So when I picked up Sir Apropos of Nothing, I did so based on the title pun and the back-of-the-book synopsis that promised “a berserk phoenix, murderous unicorns, mutated harpies, homicidal warrior kings, and – most problematic of all – a princess who may or may not be a psychotic arsonist.” I expected another lighthearted riff on the familiar archetypes. Murderous unicorns? Unicorns are not typically described as such! Oh teehee, how unexpectedly humorous!
Sir Apropos of Nothing is a satirical fantasy, just like it promised, though at times it’s hard to tell how much of the story is played for laughs and how much is played straight. See, the thing about satire that’s easy to forget at times is that it’s not synonymous with buffoonery. Make no mistake – Apropos is a funny book, full of witty dialogue and groan-inducing puns. It’s a book that takes great delight in lampshading traditional fantasy tropes and archetypes, as well as the entirety of Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey idea. But it is not always a silly lampshade; sometimes a cliche or trope is pointed out to have its inherit ridiculousness laughed at, and sometimes it is pointed out because it is causing real and lasting pain or damage, either to the society in which it is set or, more often, to the titular Apropos himself and his ever-degrading esteem of both the people around him and himself.
The tone, at first, is hard to pin down. The story starts in media res with the main character being caught by a knight while in mid-coitus with that knight’s wife and escalates from there. The second chapter opens with a fourth wall-breaking narrative admission by Apropos himself that this was done with the express purpose of catching your attention, and now we’re going back to cover Apropos’s childhood, which ends up being equal parts dark, tragic, punny, and conveniently trope-filled – all of which Apropos, as narrator, approaches with the same resigned, blasé outlook.
If this sounds a bit jarring, well, it kind of is. Early on, I wasn’t sure what to think of where the story was trying to go or what I was expected to feel about it. After the first turn from cliché to dark and visceral to light and punny, all within a few pages, I caught myself thinking, “Crap, is this book gonna try and mix goofy jokes with serious drama and thoughtful moral quandary?”
The answer is yes. And it pulls it off fantastically.
This is due in large part to the interesting depths of the antihero, Apropos, who seems to be so named purely for the joke in the title. In Apropos we see a deep sense of justice and rightness that is entirely eclipsed by an even deeper cynicism and an unshakeable instinct for self-preservation. His life is objectively terrible, but rather than brood and lament, he adjusts. He keeps his head down when he can, weathers abuse when he can’t, and learns to deal with the constant shit storm, all the while bottling his growing anger and resentment at a world that would allow such amounts of suffering and hypocrisy to go unchecked. The fact that he himself becomes a selfish, hypocritical, and generally awful person is not lost on him, and the result is a flawed, unheroic, pathetic coward of a protagonist, a magnificently multifaceted bastard who doesn’t spare even himself from his vast and withering contempt.
And it’s a blast. It really is. Apropos is refreshingly pragmatic and unabashedly pessimistic, a welcome change from the typical righteous-yet-humble heroes of traditional fantasy, or even the loveable and untalented everyman in over his head of traditional fantasy spoofs. Despite a portentous birthmark (on his ass, no less) and beginnings that are not “humble” so much as “poverty of the dirtiest kind,” Apropos is everything a hero should not be short of outright evil.
And this, as it turns out, is entirely the point. This is where the satire, funny or otherwise, really shines through. This is the crux that elevates Sir Apropos of Nothing from a generically self-aware fantasy story to an original and memorable subversion of storytelling as a whole.
Without giving too much away, there comes a point in the plot where Apropos realizes that the events surrounding his miserable life are part of a heroic tale that has been preordained by Fate and is now being epically written out by Destiny. And despite his birthmark, his tragic past, and his mother’s constant reassurances that he has some sort of great destiny hovering over him, he is not the hero. He is only a minor character. A walk-on role on the hero’s stage. A brief pit-stop along the hero’s journey. An NPC whose dreams, desires, and continued existence are so far below importance to the story as to be utterly negligible.
And once this finally clicks with him, he violently, brazenly rebels against it. He gives an emphatic middle finger to Fate’s ideas and sets about making Destiny sit up and take notice of him again. He momentarily and violently overcomes his own abject cowardice just long enough to find a way to completely wreck the traditional heroic ballad in which he lives, all on the basis that, dammit, the world owes him more than this, and nobody should be so miserably cursed as to live their entire life as a foil character.
At this point in my own reading, I didn’t know whether to cheer him on or worry about the repercussions of his actions, because he doesn’t suddenly become heroic when this happens. He’s exactly as much of a selfish, lying bastard as before, and however bad you feel for him, you can completely understand why he was never cast for this role in the first place. Add to this the complete disregard of the author for following what seems to be the obvious progression of events in favor of twists that take you completely by surprise, but still make complete sense and arise organically from the story itself, and you eventually give up thinking that you have any sense of where the story’s going or how any event is going to play out. From beginning to end, it feeds you familiar ideas and then completely subverts them, introduces clichés and then proceeds to tear them apart, and you laugh and pity and feel something the entire way through.
In short, Sir Apropos of Nothing is a book that will keep you turning page after page – not necessarily because of the gripping drama (although it has that) or because of any breezy humor (although it has that too), or because the narration itself oozes suspense (although it often does), but because, with the rapid infusion of new and creative ideas and the hidden depths of character constantly bubbling to the surface in everyone involved, you honestly never know what’s going to happen next. If you like fantasy and can stand to have your expectations messed with, Apropos is certainly apropos.
Cyn Armistead (14 KP) rated Carniepunk in Books
Mar 1, 2018
As soon as I read about this collection on Kevin Hearne's Facebook, I knew I would be buying it. I don't care for carnivals at all, and every story will be related to one in some way - but there was just no way I was going to miss an Atticus and Oberon story! I even pre-ordered the book on Amazon, the first time I've ever done that. It was SO hard not to skip right ahead and read Hearne's contribution the moment the book was in my hot little hands, but I managed some discipline.
Rob Thurman's "Painted Love" opens the book. It is dark, but to be fair it isn't quite as dark as the only Thurman novel I've read, from the Cal Leandros series. I rather liked the twist. I adored the fiercely protective older sister, especially the way she is described. I'll rate this one at three.
I don't believe I've ever read anything by Delilah S. Dawson before, certainly not anything in the Blud universe, so I had no idea what to expect from "The Three Lives of Lydia." It was a far darker story than I would generally choose to read. I found the male love interest highly appealing. The portrayal of mental illness was horrific. I found it interesting that Dawson is an Atlantan as well as a fellow geeky mom, but I'm sure that I've never heard of her before. She does have a book coming out next year that looks promising, so I may give it a read. This one's a two.
Then there is the Iron Druid story! "The Demon Barker of Wheat Street" is set a few books back in the series' chronology (two weeks after "Two Ravens and One Crow"), so Granuaille isn't yet a full Druid. To make things even more interesting, Atticus accidentally offended the local elemental many years ago, so his magic doesn't work as well as usual in the area. The story isn't vital to the series, and knowledge of the series isn't necessary for enjoying it. Hearne's fans definitely won't want to miss it, though, and it could be used as a nice little taste of his style for new readers. Definitely a five.
I couldn't make it through "The Sweeter the Juice" by Mark Henry. Zombies are disgusting, but I was way squicked before the first walking dead even appeared on the scene. A one, just because there are no zeroes.
Jaye Wells is another new-to-me author, as far as I can remember at the moment. I didn't really like "The Werewife," to be honest. There was no joy anywhere in this story. There wasn't even a hint that perhaps the couple in the story had been happy together at one time. Both of them seemed pretty miserable, and I didn't like the way it ended. It didn't seem like there was any way to give them a happy ending, but that ending didn't feel "true." It gets a two, and that's only to set it apart from the previous story.
"The Cold Girl" by Rachel Caine is about an abusive teen relationship. Oh, and vampires. I'm not a Caine fan, but this story was better than some of her other work. Again, too dark for my tastes. If half stars were possible, it would have one. I'll be nice and round up to three.
The name Allison Pang sounds familiar, so maybe I've read something by her in the past. If I did, I'm certain that it wasn't set in the same world as "A Duet With Darkness," which says it is an Abby Sinclair story. I found the main character to be an annoying, immature twit, but I'm a sucker for fiction with musical influences. The music is well-done here. I don't know if I will read anything more by Ms. Pang or not - I suppose that depends on whether or not her other work has better characters and is also musical. This one gets a four.
I found "Recession of the Divine" by Hillary Jacques fascinating. The Greek inspiration was unusual. I didn't really buy the customers being quite so unquestioning of Ophelia's state, but it wasn't a major complaint overall. I was highly disappointed to find nothing but a credit in another anthology for her. But! Reading the author profiles at the end of the book pays off, because that's how I learned that she also writes as Regan Summers. Now her works published under that name are on my to-read shelf. Another five.
Jennifer Estep's "Parlor Tricks" was actually released free on Amazon a little while back to promote Carniepunk, so it was the first story I read. I enjoy the Elemental Assassin series in general, and this story is no exception. Again, knowledge of the series is not required to understand the story, and the story is not vital to the series. It is a nice little sample, though, and I enjoyed seeing Gin and Bria having a sisterly outing. I'm probably biased, but it gets a five.
I liked Kelly Meding's "Freak House" a lot, and her name sounded familiar, but the story was set in the "Strays" universe, which I was certain I had never heard of before. I actually stirred myself to look her up, and learned that I've had one of her books on my to-read list for ages, and Strays is a new series she's just starting. Djinn, werewolves, vampires, pixies, harpies, leprechauns, skinwalkers, and more, some "out" to humans, some living hidden - what's not to love? This one gets a four.
Nicole Peeler us yet another author who sounded vaguely familiar to me, and yep, there is one of her books on my to-read list (yes, it is massive, why do you ask?). It is, in fact, the first of the Jane True books, and "The Inside Man" is set in that world. Peeler's writing style dies not flow for me, but I liked Capitola Jones and her friends Shar and Moo. As clowns are indisputably evil, I had little to complain about in the story. It gets a three.
Succubus (former?) Jezzie is the main character in Jackie Kessler's story "A Chance in Hell." Obviously, the story is set her Hell on Earth series. I had to look that up, though, because while I know you're shocked, her name did not ring any bells for me. I don't actually have ALL the urban fantasy books on my to-read or read lists! The piece opens with a confusing remark about a demon eating Jezebel's face, when that definitely is not the anatomy in question. If that's a common euphemism, it is wholly new to me. Within the next couple of pages there are multiple references to the fact that she has fallen in love with a human since becoming mortal, but absolutely no explanation of how she would reconcile sex with an incubus with her human love. As much as I would prefer that it were not the case, the default assumption in our society is that people are monogamous. Therefore, when there is a deviation from that norm, the reader expects - something. Is it supposed to demonstrate that the fictional society is different? Is the character in an explicitly non-monogamous relationship? Is her love unrequited? Is the guy dead? Do demons not count? Is she just a skanky ho? Then this great love isn't mentioned again for the rest of the story, so none of the questions raised are answered. Oh. There is, in fact, a plot here, but I was so annoyed by that stuff that I almost failed to notice it. Demonic circus, yo. The whole demon thing reminds me too much of another series I've read in the past. I can't even remember the author's name, much less the title, right now, but Kessler's work feels derivative. She gets a two.
Next up is Kelly Gay - Hey look! Another author whose name I don't recognize! - with "Hell's Menagerie," a Charlie Madigan short story. Okay, this series is set in an alternate Atlanta. As an Atlanta girl, that certainly gets my attention. And Charlie is a single mother. I don't recall any other single mothers in the UF world right off. (Kate Daniels doesn't quite count, because she adopted her daughter as a teen. Although it is interesting to note that Kate is also Atlanta-based.) I was ready to like this one, based solely on what I knew of the series. Then there was a grammatical error on the second page of the story that set my teeth on edge, one which could not be chalked up to a character's voice. Add in the fact that we get a fast, "and also, Jim" style introduction to Charlie (who isn't even present in the story!), Rex, and Emma in less than two pages, and I am officially annoyed. It isn't an old matinee movie, so surely that information could have been worked in a little more naturally? Emma won me over. Mostly. There's some, "Not another super-gifted kid," reaction, but I guess if the mother is supposed to be all that it's to be expected that the daughter might be special, too. Hmm. A three.
The last piece is Seaman McGuire's "Daughter of the Midway, the Mermaid, and the Open, Lonely, Sea." Is that title a mouthful, or what? It has the feel of a Toby Daye story, although it isn't subtitled as such, and there are no fae so maybe it isn't in that universe at all. As there are other stories in the book that are set in the same world as their author's series, yet not marked in any way, lack of a subtitle can't be taken as a negative indicator, though. In any case, the story is poignant, which I've come to expect from McGuire. I didn't really like it, but I didn't dislike it, either. I couldn't "feel" Ada in any true sense. I have the same problem with Toby. A three at best.
Overall, the book was decent. The ratings only average out to 3.21, but I'm very glad to have read the stories by Hearne and Estep. Discovering Jacques/Summers was absolutely worthwhile. I really hate that I read as much of Henry's story as I did. If I could delete that from my memory, it would probably raise the rating for everything else.
Rob Thurman's "Painted Love" opens the book. It is dark, but to be fair it isn't quite as dark as the only Thurman novel I've read, from the Cal Leandros series. I rather liked the twist. I adored the fiercely protective older sister, especially the way she is described. I'll rate this one at three.
I don't believe I've ever read anything by Delilah S. Dawson before, certainly not anything in the Blud universe, so I had no idea what to expect from "The Three Lives of Lydia." It was a far darker story than I would generally choose to read. I found the male love interest highly appealing. The portrayal of mental illness was horrific. I found it interesting that Dawson is an Atlantan as well as a fellow geeky mom, but I'm sure that I've never heard of her before. She does have a book coming out next year that looks promising, so I may give it a read. This one's a two.
Then there is the Iron Druid story! "The Demon Barker of Wheat Street" is set a few books back in the series' chronology (two weeks after "Two Ravens and One Crow"), so Granuaille isn't yet a full Druid. To make things even more interesting, Atticus accidentally offended the local elemental many years ago, so his magic doesn't work as well as usual in the area. The story isn't vital to the series, and knowledge of the series isn't necessary for enjoying it. Hearne's fans definitely won't want to miss it, though, and it could be used as a nice little taste of his style for new readers. Definitely a five.
I couldn't make it through "The Sweeter the Juice" by Mark Henry. Zombies are disgusting, but I was way squicked before the first walking dead even appeared on the scene. A one, just because there are no zeroes.
Jaye Wells is another new-to-me author, as far as I can remember at the moment. I didn't really like "The Werewife," to be honest. There was no joy anywhere in this story. There wasn't even a hint that perhaps the couple in the story had been happy together at one time. Both of them seemed pretty miserable, and I didn't like the way it ended. It didn't seem like there was any way to give them a happy ending, but that ending didn't feel "true." It gets a two, and that's only to set it apart from the previous story.
"The Cold Girl" by Rachel Caine is about an abusive teen relationship. Oh, and vampires. I'm not a Caine fan, but this story was better than some of her other work. Again, too dark for my tastes. If half stars were possible, it would have one. I'll be nice and round up to three.
The name Allison Pang sounds familiar, so maybe I've read something by her in the past. If I did, I'm certain that it wasn't set in the same world as "A Duet With Darkness," which says it is an Abby Sinclair story. I found the main character to be an annoying, immature twit, but I'm a sucker for fiction with musical influences. The music is well-done here. I don't know if I will read anything more by Ms. Pang or not - I suppose that depends on whether or not her other work has better characters and is also musical. This one gets a four.
I found "Recession of the Divine" by Hillary Jacques fascinating. The Greek inspiration was unusual. I didn't really buy the customers being quite so unquestioning of Ophelia's state, but it wasn't a major complaint overall. I was highly disappointed to find nothing but a credit in another anthology for her. But! Reading the author profiles at the end of the book pays off, because that's how I learned that she also writes as Regan Summers. Now her works published under that name are on my to-read shelf. Another five.
Jennifer Estep's "Parlor Tricks" was actually released free on Amazon a little while back to promote Carniepunk, so it was the first story I read. I enjoy the Elemental Assassin series in general, and this story is no exception. Again, knowledge of the series is not required to understand the story, and the story is not vital to the series. It is a nice little sample, though, and I enjoyed seeing Gin and Bria having a sisterly outing. I'm probably biased, but it gets a five.
I liked Kelly Meding's "Freak House" a lot, and her name sounded familiar, but the story was set in the "Strays" universe, which I was certain I had never heard of before. I actually stirred myself to look her up, and learned that I've had one of her books on my to-read list for ages, and Strays is a new series she's just starting. Djinn, werewolves, vampires, pixies, harpies, leprechauns, skinwalkers, and more, some "out" to humans, some living hidden - what's not to love? This one gets a four.
Nicole Peeler us yet another author who sounded vaguely familiar to me, and yep, there is one of her books on my to-read list (yes, it is massive, why do you ask?). It is, in fact, the first of the Jane True books, and "The Inside Man" is set in that world. Peeler's writing style dies not flow for me, but I liked Capitola Jones and her friends Shar and Moo. As clowns are indisputably evil, I had little to complain about in the story. It gets a three.
Succubus (former?) Jezzie is the main character in Jackie Kessler's story "A Chance in Hell." Obviously, the story is set her Hell on Earth series. I had to look that up, though, because while I know you're shocked, her name did not ring any bells for me. I don't actually have ALL the urban fantasy books on my to-read or read lists! The piece opens with a confusing remark about a demon eating Jezebel's face, when that definitely is not the anatomy in question. If that's a common euphemism, it is wholly new to me. Within the next couple of pages there are multiple references to the fact that she has fallen in love with a human since becoming mortal, but absolutely no explanation of how she would reconcile sex with an incubus with her human love. As much as I would prefer that it were not the case, the default assumption in our society is that people are monogamous. Therefore, when there is a deviation from that norm, the reader expects - something. Is it supposed to demonstrate that the fictional society is different? Is the character in an explicitly non-monogamous relationship? Is her love unrequited? Is the guy dead? Do demons not count? Is she just a skanky ho? Then this great love isn't mentioned again for the rest of the story, so none of the questions raised are answered. Oh. There is, in fact, a plot here, but I was so annoyed by that stuff that I almost failed to notice it. Demonic circus, yo. The whole demon thing reminds me too much of another series I've read in the past. I can't even remember the author's name, much less the title, right now, but Kessler's work feels derivative. She gets a two.
Next up is Kelly Gay - Hey look! Another author whose name I don't recognize! - with "Hell's Menagerie," a Charlie Madigan short story. Okay, this series is set in an alternate Atlanta. As an Atlanta girl, that certainly gets my attention. And Charlie is a single mother. I don't recall any other single mothers in the UF world right off. (Kate Daniels doesn't quite count, because she adopted her daughter as a teen. Although it is interesting to note that Kate is also Atlanta-based.) I was ready to like this one, based solely on what I knew of the series. Then there was a grammatical error on the second page of the story that set my teeth on edge, one which could not be chalked up to a character's voice. Add in the fact that we get a fast, "and also, Jim" style introduction to Charlie (who isn't even present in the story!), Rex, and Emma in less than two pages, and I am officially annoyed. It isn't an old matinee movie, so surely that information could have been worked in a little more naturally? Emma won me over. Mostly. There's some, "Not another super-gifted kid," reaction, but I guess if the mother is supposed to be all that it's to be expected that the daughter might be special, too. Hmm. A three.
The last piece is Seaman McGuire's "Daughter of the Midway, the Mermaid, and the Open, Lonely, Sea." Is that title a mouthful, or what? It has the feel of a Toby Daye story, although it isn't subtitled as such, and there are no fae so maybe it isn't in that universe at all. As there are other stories in the book that are set in the same world as their author's series, yet not marked in any way, lack of a subtitle can't be taken as a negative indicator, though. In any case, the story is poignant, which I've come to expect from McGuire. I didn't really like it, but I didn't dislike it, either. I couldn't "feel" Ada in any true sense. I have the same problem with Toby. A three at best.
Overall, the book was decent. The ratings only average out to 3.21, but I'm very glad to have read the stories by Hearne and Estep. Discovering Jacques/Summers was absolutely worthwhile. I really hate that I read as much of Henry's story as I did. If I could delete that from my memory, it would probably raise the rating for everything else.