E. Godz, by Robert Aspirin and Esther Friesner (Baen, 2003)

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Meet Edwina Godz, CEO of E. Godz, Inc., America’s largest and only family-owned clearinghouse for magical power. She’s got a small problem. Two of them, really: her children, vapid Peez (the Dateless Wonder, and Emergency Virgin for several New York magical groups) and vacuous Dov (with a smile for every occasion). Not only do they hate each other to the point of absolute detestation, but it’s a sure bet that if they take over the company when Edwina dies, they’ll tear it apart in their ensuing power struggles, ruining everything Edwina has worked so hard to build. Her solution? Die early, and make the two fight it out, with only one sibling coming away with complete control of the company. So she sends out her letters, climbs into bed, and waits to see what’ll happen, and who’ll emerge on top, kicking and screaming.

Now it’s up to Peez and Dov (and yes, I wince at the names also) to make the rounds of E. Godz’s biggest subsidiaries, to gladhand and schmooze and build their power bases. Winner takes all. Dov, accompanied by a particularly persistent talking amulet, and Peez, accompanied by her overly manipulative magical teddy bear Teddy Tumtum (stop rolling your eyes) are on the road and in the boardroom. And so each of them visits the representatives of the groups that power E. Godz.

There’s the Native American shaman who’ll give anyone a spirit quest for $3,000 a pop (only the most glamourous of spirit totems given, of course). There’s the Egyptian death cult in Chicago that never grew out of the frat mentality. There’s the voodoo dude down in New Orleans, the Wiccan high priestess in Salem, the Eskimo who’ll make a totem pole of any pantheon you want to worship, from talk show hosts to sports team mascots to actual totemic animals, and finally, there’s the Reverend Everything in L.A., who puts on a show no worshipper is soon to forget. As Peez and Dov visit each one, they learn more about the ways of the business, and the relationship of magic to belief to profit. And if they learn a little more about themselves in the process, so be it.

The big question is, what happens when they’re done, and it’s time to take the fight right on back to dear sweet dying mother Edwina herself? The fur will fly, secrets will be revealed, and the big question of who’ll get the family business will finally be revealed.

To be honest, I’m really not sure what to make of E. Godz. The name is a horrible pun of sorts, and I kept expecting some sort of online diety subscription service (hmmmm, idea….). Esther Friesner is superb with the comic fantasy and sly humor, though subtlety isn’t always her strongest point when she’s going for the funny.

Robert Aspirin has always been hit and miss with me, his Myth-Adventure books clever and entertaining, but not exactly what I’d consider deep thought. Together, the result was bound to either be very good or a little muddled, and I fear E. Godz is a little muddled, as though Aspirin’s and Friesner’s styles didn’t entirely mesh. True, there were laugh-out-loud amusing parts, and I kept disturbing my wife just to read selected bits to her. True, it’s an entertaining and interesting read. It wasn’t until I was done that I was able to look back and see a deeper, more intriguing and more philosophical message running throughout the book, regarding the relationship of faith with the need to believe in something. Occasionally heavy-handed, the message still flew under the radar in a subtle way, surprising me with its introspective nature. The mixture of satire and commentary is well-handled, though it could have been more polished.

Unfortunately, no message can make up for saddling the protagonists with the names Peez and Dov. That’s just painful, especially for a book taking place in a contemporary American setting.

On the whole, I really did enjoy E. Godz, but it’s not about to supplant any of the Myth-Adventure books as a standout Aspirin novel, nor will it replace Druid’s Blood as my favorite Esther Friesner book. My honest advice is that it’s worth checking out, but not one to immediately race out and buy in hardcover if you’re on a budget.

Digital Knight, by Ryk E. Spoor (Baen, 2003)

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Information specialist Jason Wood never expected his life to get any more complicated than trying to meet bills and avoid embarassing himself around his best friend and psychic hottie, Sylvia Stake. After all, how dangerous can enhancing photos for the police, or doing Web searches for college professors be? When a routine investigation into the unethical business dealings of a local politician goes sour, though, Jason’s life turns upside-down and inside-out in a big way. Because not only do vampires exist and live among us, but so do werewolves, demons, genetic experiments gone wrong, and the remnants of an ancient civilization that’s not quite as dead as everyone thought. It’ll take every bit of ingenuity, technological expertise, and sheer hard-headed resourcefulness to keep Jason and Sylvia alive as they get embroiled in Things Man Really, REALLY, No Really I MEAN It, Wasn’t Ever Supposed To Know. Whether he’s confronting a drug-dealing, well-spoken centuries-old vampire, mouthing off against the immortal King of the Werewolves, or tracking down something capable of turning deadly monsters into stone statues, he’ll be pushed to the very edge of his endurance more than once. And just when you think it’s safe to open the door again….

Well. THAT was an interesting read. At first, Digital Knight comes off in the same vein (I made a pun, sorry) as Tanya Huff’s Victory Nelson series, or Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake, or Jim Butcher’s Harry Dresden — frankly, there’s enough private investigators who get caught up in the supernatural to warrant a convention (which could then get attacked by Cthulhu…. scribbling this down as a great idea for a movie). Anyway, at first, the book starts off on fairly familiar ground, which is by no means a complaint. It’s a tried and true subgenre by now (and one that’s inspired at least several anthologies, such as Supernatural Sleuths or Vampire Detectives, both edited by Martin H. Greenberg). Private investigators, or private citizens of whatever sort, who get mucked up in the world of the supernatural, is almost expected by now. I suspect every writer’s got one or two ideas for “A tall leggy dame walked into my office and flashed a pair of fangs…”

So where am I going with this? That, my friends, is the exact mental question I had numerous times while reading Digital Knight. This is a book that delivers a major twist less than forty pages into a 378 page book, before setting up the real status quo. And then it delivers another twist, throwing a new breed of supernatural menace at us. And then yet another big twist, in which Everything We Know Is Not Quite Right. Oh! And then it takes a left turn into Everything We Know Is Really Wrong. We start off with one thing, and end up in a related-but-rather-different arena by the end. Ancient lost civilizations, genetic experiments, immortal creatures, government conspiracies and cutting-edge technology are all thrown in to make one hell of a cup of coffee.

In some ways, this is rather frustrating. Spoor’s got a lot of great ideas, most of which could be fleshed out a lot more, each one worthy of a book by itself. Instead, he’s chosen, in a rather episodic format, to compress them all into one book, which is still the first of a projected series, as far as I can tell. If they were actually billed as short stories, or episodes, that would be one thing; any number of books have done well with collecting short stories to present a full narrative, such as the early Callahan’s stories by Spider Robinson, or some of Mike Resnick’s works. But by offering us what appears to be a novel-length tale broken up into six episodes, each one with its own distinct problem and flavor, Spoor’s potentially weakened the overall flow. Which really is a shame, since as I’ve said, there’s a lot of good ideas, and a lot of potential.

Once I started reading, I had trouble stopping. Part of this is because, through natural curiosity, I just had to see what new twist Spoor had ready to throw at us. Would Jason Wood be revealed as an alien? Was Sylvia Stake really a fairy? Do vampires and werewolves have children together? (These are hypothetical questions, I promise … or are they?). But the other reason was because Digital Knight really is a fun story. Okay, it’s mind candy, shameless and unrepentant, as the author himself has admitted. For that very reason, it’s worth checking out; it’s nice to have a break every now and again from The Next Great Fantasy or The Next Harry Potter. Writing’s become so serious of late! Ryk Spoor’s done a great job of reminding us that sometimes it’s okay to cut loose and enjoy what we’re reading. I won’t lie and say that this is the Next Big Thing, and in all honesty I prefer Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files, but when the next book by Spoor comes out, I’ll be right there to see what further twists and turns he has ready for us.

Death Masks, by Jim Butcher (Roc, 2003)

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“They don’t make morgues with windows. In fact, if the geography allows for it, they hardly ever make morgues above the ground. I guess it’s partly because it must be easier to refrigerate a bunch of coffin-sized chambers in a room insulated by the earth. But that can’t be all there is to it. Under the earth means a lot more than relative altitude. It’s where dead things fit. Graves are under the earth. So are Hell, Gehenna, Hades, and a dozen other reported afterlives.

“Maybe it says something about people. Maybe for us, under the earth is a subtle and profound statement. Maybe ground level provides us with a kind of symbolic boundary marker, an artificial construct that helps us remember that we are alive. Maybe it helps us push death’s shadow back from our lives.

“I live in a basement apartment and like it. What does that say about me?

“Probably that I overanalyze things.”
— Death Masks by Jim Butcher

Once again, Harry Dresden’s in trouble. You’d think that Chicago’s only openly practicing wizard and private investigator would catch a lucky break now and again, but where Harry’s concerned, a lucky break means paying last month’s bills next month, and surviving to see morning. His girlfriend’s still a partial vampire, not fully transformed. The Red Court of vampires is still willing to wage war against the entire White Council of wizards if it means getting Harry’s head on a platter. Half his friends are avoiding him like the plague, and the other half are the ones he can’t trust anyway. Luckily, a job comes along.

Find the missing Shroud of Turin, an item charged with enough mystical and religious significance to set off an (un)holy war over it. But Harry has barely even taken the case when the hitmen start coming after him. And that’s just the beginning.

For starters, the Red Court’s representative, the dreaded Paolo Ortega, is in town to issue a formal challenge to duel Harry. At stake: the future of the vampires and wizards, a war that may leave no winners. Susan, his ex-girlfriend, turns up on his doorstep, packing heat, a partner, and some strange new secrets and powers. The demonic Order of the Blackened Denarius is also after Harry, a group of creatures possessing unthinkable power and older than mankind itself. Then there’s the ritually killed, unidentifiable corpse found by the Chicago PD, who naturally want Harry’s advice.

Take one unexplained death, one missing Shroud, and way too many enemies, and Harry’s in deep … trouble. But for once, he’s got right and might on his side in the form of the three Knights of the Cross, one of whom, Michael Carpenter, is one of those few friends Harry can always count on (even if Michael’s wife, Charity, hates him with a passion). You think you have it bad? Try being Harry Dresden for a few days. The stakes have never been higher, as Harry’s success could mean the difference between life and death for thousands, even millions … and all he has to do is ignore the prophecy that states quite clearly that if he seeks the Shroud, he will die. A prophecy coming from one of those sources it doesn’t pay to ignore….

What can I say about Death Masks that I haven’t said about the first four books in the Dresden Files series? Jim Butcher is clearly an old-school sadist, putting his hero through the crunch once again, systematically parting Harry of all his best resources and even threatening the sanctity of the Dresden Duster itself. Harry’s increasing desperation and exhaustion is palpable. He’s a sympathetic character, capable of victories and failures with equal frequency, and married to a white knight complex that will get him killed at this rate. One thing I love about this series is that it’s a sure thing. I know that each book in the Dresden Files is bound to be exciting, imaginative, complex, and surprising. The plot twists never seem obvious until they’re smacking you in the face, partially because Harry’s own sensibilities play at such odds with his opponents, and his solutions are sometimes as creative as MacGyver’s, if not as implausible.

Furthermore, there’s a growing sense of the larger plan. Five books in, and for every few answers we get, there are hints of something far bigger, as the world expands beyond the Chicago metropolitan area, and Harry is forced to think on a larger scale. We begin to see that vampires plot in terms of decades or centuries, that wizards are as powerful as they are self-absorbed, that the Fey are truly alien creatures in thought processes, and that some things really are on a divine/profane level. The continuing mystery of Harry’s parentage is another ongoing plot, with tidbits dropped in here and there, just enough to whet the appetite and make one suspect that Jim Butcher has it all planned far in advance.

Butcher, too, is improving in leaps and bounds as he continues to gain that writing confidence. I suspect that after five books, and a rabid fanbase, he really does feel comfortable in planning stories for the future. That, and he’s not afraid to make us sweat. There’s one scene between Harry and Susan that’s more electrically charged, more intense, than an entire book of Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake series.

Intense and wild, Death Masks is another roller-coaster ride from Jim Butcher, a skillful blend of urban fantasy and noir, sure to satisfy any fan and leave them begging for more. Even in that subgenre of “fantasy P.I.s”, (such as Glen Cook’s Garrett series, or Simon R. Green’s Something from the Nightside), it stands out as an exemplar.

Wild Magic, by Jude Fisher (DAW, 2003)

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What if the two major cultures of the world were an Arabianesque theocracy and a Viking-like monarchy, and they’d existed in a fragile peace until one small incident threw off a spark which lit a conflagration? What if everyone wanted to possess the most beautiful woman in the world, and she had her own ideas on the subject? What if the rumors of vast treasures in the icy far reaches of the world threatened to destroy a family and tear apart a society? What if a magician’s apprentice did something spectacularly stupid, lost a priceless treasure, and upset the balance of nature? And what sort of people would get caught up in all of this, often to their detriment?

Those are the questions asked, and the themes explored, in Wild Magic, the second book in Jude Fisher’s epic fantasy trilogy, Fool’s Gold. We rejoin the farflung cast of Sorcery Rising as events continue to unfold at a breakneck pace. Katla Aransen may have been healed of the grievous wounds suffered when she was burned for sacrilege, but the damage done to her spirit may never heal. Saro Vingo’s attempts to escape the hateful domination of his greedy father and monstrous brother have only served to drag him further into a life of humilation and frustration. The Rosa Eldi, Rose of the World, may have married a king, but her lack of memory and inability to conceive are just the tip of the iceberg; her mysterious origin is tied into a growing danger. Virelai, once a sorcerer’s apprentice, is now under the control of an unscrupulous man who’ll stop at nothing to regain his fortunes. And Aran Aranson is willing to lead family and friends into mortal peril for the promise of gold and treasure, no matter what the cost to his soul. In the end, all of their stories will collide and intertwine, but the results may not be desirable for any of them.

Fisher, a long-time British SF publisher and worldwide editor for the works of Tolkien, clearly knows how to build the story. While one could argue that Wild Magic suffers from “middle book syndrome,” it certainly furthers the multiple storylines considerably, and leaves us dangling on some very painful cliffhangers, as the main characters plunge further into chaos and danger. At the same time, enough answers are dropped into the mix to satisfy some curiosity, and raise plenty of speculations. The real payoff, however, will clearly come in the third book, The Wars of Sorcery, when everything is tied together at last. As such, I’m reserving at least some judgment.

I can say, however, that Fisher manages to combine the familiar and the alien to create recognizable fantasy societies. It’s not often that you get to see Middle Eastern religious fundamentalists locking horns with Vikings, but in Fisher’s world, it works quite well. The two cultures manage to co-exist and play off of one another, and the combination of overlap and contrast provides for a rich atmosphere. The characters, too, are complex and intriguing, from the amnesiac Rosa Eldi to the fiercely independent Katla to the monomaniacal Aran to the deeply-conflicted Saro, and each separate storyline is captivating in its own way, to the point where I was willing to skip chapters just to follow one particular character before going back to another.

All in all, Wild Magic lives up to the promise of the first book in the series, keeping up the energy and adventure and providing just enough payoff to make me want to come back for more. Fisher clearly has a winner here, with the only downside being that this book does rely heavily upon the one that came before it, and the resolutions are mostly forthcoming in the last of the series.

The Battle of Evernight, by Cecilia Dart-Thornton (Warner Aspect, 2003)

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In The Battle of Evernight, Cecilia Dart-Thornton brings the saga of the Ill-Made Mute to an ending as epic and enchanting as any fairy tale. What was once a sexless, nameless, voiceless hideous servant slaving in the depths of a Stormriders’ Tower has become a true lady at long last, name and voice and face and memories all restored after a series of perilous adventures. And the truth is far grander and greater than any could have imagined. For Ashalind, formerly known as Imrhien, Rohain, and Tahquil (each name representing a different stage of her rebirth and rediscovery), is one of the last of the ancient Talith, a race of people who once dwelt in fabled Avlantia before many departed the world of Eruith forever, to dwell with the Fair Folk, the Faeran. And Ashalind’s quest, forgotten for a time, has become all the more urgent.

For once upon a time, a thousand years past, she risked her life and soul to free the children of her city from the Faeran, only to discover that a most insidious and unquenchable longing for the Fair Realm still held fast within their souls. Even as she worked to make things right, treachery within the Faeran took root, and on the day when the Talith left the mortal world, the king of the Faeran and his brother were left behind, barred by gates that would never again open. And only one person, Ashalind, knew the secret to restore them to their kingdom once and for all. But time flies differently between the worlds. A thousand years passed in the blink of an eye, and the world outside changed. And when Ashalind at last emerged, bitter happenstance caused her to fall victim to the Bitterbynde of the Gate of Oblivion’s Kiss. Gone was her voice, to an evil spirit’s lash. Gone was her golden hair, as payment for free passage. Gone was her memory to the bitterbynde, turning her into a blank slate. Gone was her beauty, stolen by the vicious paradox plant. And all was lost.

Now Ashalind is restored, and her quest has taken on a new urgency. The King of the Faeran lies sleeping, somewhere in the lands of Erith, while his brother, Prince Morragan, walks the world to spread his own form of amoral mischief, all the while seeking Ashalind, who alone knows of his treachery and secrets. Ashalind must find the king, find the Gate of Oblivion’s Kiss, and find the cure for the longing of the Fair Realm which assaults her anew. Meanwhile, her true love and betrothed, King James XVI, may be in grave peril, or already dead. All that stands between Ashalind and her goal is a land filled with Seelie and Unseelie wights, a Faeran host ready to capture or kill her on sight, and a brewing war. Her allies are few, and the time short. And even if she succeeds, her success may be a bitter one, as the world of the Faeran will never again touch upon the world of men.

This is a fairy tale like very few others. Cecilia Dart-Thornton has woven an intricate story drawing upon dozens of folk tales, myths, and legends, including everything from Christina Rosetti’s “Goblin Market” to the story of Tam Lin, to the story of Thomas the Rhymer, to Robert Herrick’s “Oberon’s Feast,” and including inspirations taken from Welsh, English, Scottish, and Irish sources. An exhaustive list would take far too much room, and worse yet, would spoil some of the best sequences in the book. Suffice it to say that the land Ashalind and her companions cross is dangerous, unpredictable, and chock-full of magical creatures with their own agendas firmly in mind. The plot is a lot more intricate and wide-sweeping than I can explain without giving it away, so pardon my omissions.

This trilogy has a lot going for it. Beyond the profound appreciation for, and use of, traditional folk tales and ballads and fairy tales, there’s a sensuous love affair with the English language. Dart-Thornton is someone who has managed to capture the spirit and magic of fantasies gone past without repeating or echoing them. Exquisite and dazzling, the words charm their way off the page to create something with a uniquely beautiful style and flavor.

Better still, the story is unpredictable. For every time when one might guess correctly at a plot twist based on familiarity with the source material, there’s another time when the truth blindsides the reader. I can think of at least two major revelations that pretty much smacked me silly with no warning whatsoever, yet were, looking back, perfectly obvious from the clues. What happens near the end is almost heart-breaking, and yet strangely fitting, as mythic as the story’s scope itself. From having everything, to losing it all and being forced to grow all over again, to reconciling her new life with her old, Ashalind’s journey is a hero’s quest unlike any other.

If you like epic fantasy, and you’re not reading the Bitterbynde Trilogy (The Ill-Made Mute, The Lady of the Sorrows, and The Battle of Evernight), then you’re really missing out on something spectacular. I’m already looking forward to seeing what Cecilia Dart-Thornton will deliver next.

The Assassins of Tamurin, by S.D. Tower (Eos, 2003)

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I read this book almost by accident. Well, okay, I purchased The Assassins of Tamurin intentionally, and put it in my car for an undecided time in the near future when I’d get around to reading it. So when I realized I was going to have a few hours to kill at the DMV (that dreadful, banal government agency which regulates American drivers, for you non-Americans out there), I started rummaging for a book to take in with me. I picked up this one, skimmed the first few pages, and was instantly hooked. Two hours waiting for my number to come up wasn’t enough, so I came home and went right back to reading. That there is the first sign that this is a top-notch book, given that I am generally capable of putting down a book and starting a new one, repeating until I have as many as half a dozen books in the process of being read. So what’s it all about?

Lale has never known her true family. Found drifting on a boat near the shores of the impoverished village of Riversong, her elderly companions dead or dying, she was taken in out of a sense of begrudging charity, and that was practically the last kindness she’d see for eleven years. As another mouth to feed, she’s a burden. As another voice to disrupt the peace, she’s a nuisance. And when an accident on her part results in one of the harshest punishments imaginable, she realizes that her destiny does not lie in Riversong. She sets forth, determined to make her own way in the world. But the world, it seems, has plans for her.

Found by the Despotana of Tamurin, and enrolled in “Mother Midnight’s” special school for foundling and orphaned girls, Lale at last finds a sense of belonging, and worth. She rapidly becomes one of the Despotana’s prize pupils, hand-picked and groomed for a secret, treacherous purpose years in the making. But even Lale doesn’t realize what a pivotal part she’ll play in the Despotana’s long-awaited scheme for vengeance against Terem Rathai, the Sun Lord, ruler of mighty Bethiya.

As time passes, Lale grows into a lovely woman, talented and creative, skilled in the ways of the theatre. Given the choice by Mother Midnight, Lale goes on to the school at Three Springs, where the very best of the Despotana’s adopted daughters are turned into assassins and spies. And at long last, when deemed ready, Lale discovers the purpose she’s been groomed for all her life: To seduce the Sun Lord, to warm his bed, turn his heart, and then help bring him down once and for all. Convinced that the Sun Lord is her “mother’s” greatest enemy, Lale gives herself to the task whole-heartedly, playing numerous roles as needed to win the heart of a man recovering from tragedy. To worm her way unsuspected into the confidences of one of the mightiest men in the world, and tear him apart. To return his love with betrayal.

But the deeper Lale loses herself in the role, the worse the situation grows. For the Sun Lord has a plan of his own, to drive out the people known as the Exiles who have held much of the land in a tyrannical grip for a century, and to unite the squabbled Despots against a common foe. It’s a political and military gamble that stands a risk of failure at the best of times. What will happen, though, when the one person he trusts above all is the one betraying him? Lale will have to weigh love, loyalty, duty, obligation, honor, and the dark magic which binds her to Mother Midnight, in order to do what’s best for herself, and her world. Even if it kills her.

The Assassins of Tamurin is something one doesn’t see a lot of, these days: a full-fledged fantasy story told all in one volume, as opposed to stretching the tale out over two, three, or more books. I could easily have seen this story being fleshed out even more, filling in a lot more details, or elaborating on certain sequences. I was actually surprised by the epilogue, which grants a relatively satisfying ending (and a classical one at that). However, I see a lot of room for sequels following other characters, or other events inbetween, so we may not have seen the last of a complex, fascinating setting. In a lot of ways, I’m reminded of the Kushiel’s Dart trilogy by Jacqueline Carey, as both deal with some extremely complex political maneuvering, and both feature a strong-willed, accomplished, talented female protagonist. Lale is fiercely independent, well aware of her own faults, and smart enough to own up to responsibility (for the most part). The conspiracies and politics and plotting are all quite intriguing, filled with twists and turns that keep even the most obvious of revelations in the shadows, genuinely surprising me more than once. Even the foreshadowing comes at opportune times, one such event causing me to nod and go “Oh, good, the author’s not going to insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise.” Tower clearly knows when to drop hints, and when to outright sacrifice a revelation early on for a later payoff.

Reflecting on this, I’ve come away with an even better opinion of the book than when I started. With strong characters and a well-paced plot, The Assassins of Tamurin combines romance, fantasy, and intrigue for an exciting and occasionally harrowing tale, and I’m hoping we’ll see more of S.D. Tower in the fantasy field.

Paper Mage, by Leah R. Cutter (Roc, 2003)

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Once upon a time, long ago and far away, a young woman gave up a chance at immortality to remain with her family. On that day, she vowed that should any of her descendants ever show the right talents, she’d do whatever it took to give them that chance at immortality. Years later, it looks like the stars have aligned again….

Xiao Yen is a most unconventional young woman, one who flouts society’s unwritten rules to study as a paper mage, encouraged by her aunt Mei-Mei (who once loved an immortal) and ridiculed by other family and neighbors alike. She has talent aplenty, able to breathe life into delicate paper creations, to summon cranes and tigers, crabs and snakes, turning the art of origami into magic. However, she has to prove herself time and again to teachers, fellow students, family, and herself. And even when she graduates, the tests are nowhere near over. In fact, they’ve only just begun. Her very first job, as a caravan guard, turns unpredictable and deadly when she meets a goddess, and only Xiao Yen’s powers and cleverness can change the very world around her. Can Xiao Yen free one of the gods from the grip of a cruel tyrant, when her own life and virtue are in danger? Can she forge an alliance with the unpredictable Westerners who don’t understand the society they travel in, or the rules they’re breaking? Can she reconcile heart and soul with the dangers and duties ahead? If she doesn’t, the world she’s always known will be destroyed.

Paper Mage is set in China during the Tang Dynasty (618-907), a time when magic was real, gods could walk the earth, and dragons dwelt in the rivers. Well, for us they didn’t, but Leah Cutter conjures up a skillful and authentic atmosphere that mixes the magic and the mundane seamlessly in such a way that we can accept such things. Alternating Xiao Yen’s current adventure with snippets and scenes set during her years of study and training, Paper Mage weaves the two stories together until we understand just who this young woman is, where she came from, and how she became a paper mage against all expectations.

This is a story about duty and obligation, and about finding your own path even if you have to defy everything you were taught to believe in. It’s about overcoming doubt and self-pity and insecurity, and relying on inner strength. Xiao Yen is a likeable and sympathetic character whose very fallability makes her all the more real. Her struggle to understand the part luck and magic play in her life — and in her heart — provides an underlying challenge she has to overcome amidst far greater exterior threats.

Although a lot of people have said a lot of nice things about Barry Hughart’s Bridge of Birds and its sequels, I’ve managed to miss them, mainly because until now, I was never that interested in Chinese myth, as least not in comparison to the more familiar European source materials most Western authors drawn on. Thanks to Paper Mage, that’s changed, and I’ll be looking for Hughart’s work as soon as possible. This is a beautiful, delicate, intricate book, the words origami-folded into one of those flowers that just keeps opening and opening and revealing more of itself with each new day. Skillfully constructed, it manages to tell a highly satisfying story, bringing Xiao Yen’s adventure to a close without closing off room for the sequel I hope is forthcoming.

Paper Mage is the sort of book I can recommend to any fantasy lover without hesitation. Even if you’ve avoided Chinese-inspired stories because they were too alien compared to the European-flavored stuff that fills the shelves, this is a book worth reading. Leah Cutter’s debut novel proves that she has what it takes to become a great new talent.

Once Upon a Time When the Princess Rescued the Prince, by Rosemary Lake (Dragon Tree Press, 2002)

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I’m of mixed opinions where Once Upon a Time… is concerned. On the one hand, I really, really, really wanted to like this. I am a sucker for retold fairy tales; nothing draws me to a book quicker than the claim that it’s based on a fairy tale, especially the ones that haven’t been done to death by Disney. I also like fairy tales with a twist, where the heroine is just as clever and persistent and resourceful and capable of success as the hero. So the thought of a collection of fairy tales with “new, smart, strong heroines” tickled my fancy. Unfortunately, I was left feeling kind of, well, eh, after reading this one.

Don’t get me wrong. Rosemary Lake knows what she’s doing in terms of research and source material; the resource notes after every tale and the bibliography show that she’s drawn inspiration from a wide variety of sources, and her ability to tailor stories to a fourth grade reading level is quite respectable. Her retellings of “The Glass Mountain,” “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” “Little Red Riding Hood,” “The Boy Who Could Not Shudder” and others really is inspired. Sometimes she retells a story fairly close to the original, sometimes she adds new elements and makes the main character female, sometimes she cobbles together multiple stories, and sometimes she diverges significantly. I took a peek at her Web site and was impressed by the sheer number and variety of stories available, the resource links, the notations linking each story to specific character traits or special purposes, and the overall usefulness of the site for educators and parents.

So what’s my problem? I think the stories are too easy. Too quick, too light, too much like the original material in terms of slaphazard character motivation and lack of depth, and well… they just lack the things I’ve come to look for in retold fairy tales. I’m worried that Lake may be aiming too low in terms of reader abilities; after all, these are the same kids reading Harry Potter. Certainly it’s not expecting too much of them to add a little more complexity to the stories. I think the kids can take the challenge.

So the bottom line is that as useful, interesting, and downright neat as Once Upon a Time… may be, it just didn’t do much for me. As a researcher and folklorist, Lake is clearly quite good. As a storyteller, she needs to challenge her audience a little more. But that’s just my opinion. If I can find an average fourth grader to use as a test subject, I may be back with more. Ultimately, I’m going to recommend this, with reservations. I think Lake is on the right track, but I also think that the stories could be told in a stronger way.

Kushiel's Avatar, by Jacqueline Carey (Tor, 2003)

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“Once before, my fears had been made manifest in dreams, although it took a trained adept of Gentian House to enable me to see them — and they had proven horribly well-grounded that time. This time, I remembered. I had awoken in tears, and I remembered. An old blind woman’s words and a shudder in my soul warned me that a decade of grace was coming to an end.”
— Jacqueline Carey, Kushiel’s Avatar

After ten years of much-deserved, hard-won peace, the legendary courtesan, comtesse and anguisette, Phèdre nó Delauney de Montrève finds the past catching up to her, and she understands all too well that her life is about to change, and not necessarily for the better. For ten years, she’s been searching for a way to free her childhood friend, Hyacinthe, Prince of Travellers, from his magically-imposed cursed existence as the immortal Master of the Straits. Ten years spent hunting through ancient stories, researching the legends of the Yeshuites. Ten years looking for the key to ending an age-old curse laid down by the Angel Rahab.

Likewise for ten years, Imriel, the son of Terre D’Ange’s greatest traitor, Melisande Shahrizai de la Courcel, has been missing, while his infamous mother resides in exile. With royal blood in him, and third in line for the D’Angeline throne, Imriel could be a great leader … or a great pawn, if discovered, but only his mother knows where he is. Until now.

For now, Imriel de la Courcel is missing, and Phèdre’s life is thrown into chaos. For though Melisande has long been her greatest enemy, still does the traitor hold a certain power of persuasion over Phèdre, understanding the needs and ways of Kushiel’s Chosen better than anyone else. Kushiel’s Chosen, selected from birth to bear a most unique gift for accepting pain and pleasure in the same act, submitting to the wicked and the dangerous as very few ever would. Only Melisande could summon Phèdre, despite all the wrongs between them. Only Melisande could charge Phèdre with finding her lost son and returning him before he becomes an ill-used pawn in a game of kings. And should Phèdre do this, Melisande can offer a vital clue towards the ultimate release of Hyacinthe from his prison.

And so the quest begins. At Phèdre’s side always is her consort and companion, the repudiated Casseline warrior-priest, Joscelin Verreuil, who gave up his life’s work to protect and love and serve her. Together, they follow clues and trails far beyond the borders of Terre D’Ange, far beyond anywhere they’ve ever known.

Their quest to rescue Imriel will take them into the stronghold of a madman bent on conquering the world, a madman who exults in pain and degradation and slavery, a man of dangerous passions. And Joscelin must betray Phèdre and their love, and surrender her into the arms of this beast-in-human-form, or all is lost for the world, and for Imriel.

Even if they succeed, their quest to find the Name of God, the only thing that can work against the Angel Rahab and free Hyacinthe for good, will take them into lands never before visited by D’Angelines, and into the heart of a kingdom lost for a thousand years. It’s an impossible, foolish, dangerous task for anyone. But Phèdre nó Delauney, anguisette and Kushiel’s Chosen, plaything of the gods and instrument of their will, might just be the one to defy all the odds, and change the world forever.

Sprawling and epic, Kushiel’s Avatar brings to a close the trilogy of Phèdre nó Delauney, expanding her world and making the stakes both frighteningly high and dangerously personal. This is a plot writ large across the face of the world, taking us from familiar territories to legendary lands. Though the world of Kushiel’s Avatar is superficially an altered fantasy version of our own, it’s also something unique, a world where gods have power, where “Love as thou wilt” rules an entire nation, where magic is a darkly subtle, ever-mysterious force, and where so much of the furthest lands remains an enigma.

One of Jacqueline Carey’s strengths is to reinvent the familiar, making something new while still keeping it identifiable. Many of the countries and lands featured here are idealized, romanticized, fantasized versions of Rennaisance Europe, though in this book she takes us even farther abroad, into analogues for Egypt, Africa, and the Middle East. It’s hard to pin down any one era to unify them all; rather, she’s picked and chosen the best or most intriguing of each place’s history. Arabian harems, Egyptian grandeur, warring Italian city-states, the brutal Nordic region, and the mysteries of deepest, darkest Africa all collide in a richly-imagined tapestry.

Another one of her strengths is the ability to plot on a large scale, daring to take her characters across the weeks and months and years and continents, to play out the drama across entire countries, and to still keep it on such a personal level. While the world might be at stake, Phèdre never forgets that she’s doing it all for the sake of individuals: one lost child and one cursed man. Though she’s a tool of the gods, she never forgets that, ultimately, it’s people who make the difference, people who change the world. Complex plots and vicious conspiracies unfold around her, but though Phèdre was trained as a spy, she does not actively seek to bring down corrupt systems; she’s merely a catalyst. And it’s that attention to character and to the individual level amidst these sprawling plots that kept me reading through this, a 700 page tome.

For therein lies the flaw in this story. It is slow going at first. Kushiel’s Avatar is like a roller coaster. There’s a short uphill stretch, and you need momentum in order to keep going. You can’t read it in drips and drabs, a few pages or a chapter here and there; it needs to be read in long stretches, so that the full scope can be appreciated. It requires dedication; this isn’t a one-night stand like some books, it’s a committment of some length. Furthermore, I don’t recommend reading this before reading Kushiel’s Dart and Kushiel’s Chosen, as the events in this all stem from things happening in the first two books in the trilogy. As the capstone to the trilogy, it’s perfect, tying up as many loose ends as anyone can reasonably expect, while leaving the door open a crack for further tales set in the same setting or with the same characters.

Lush, exotic, even erotic, Kushiel’s Avatar is an exploration into a world of magics and mysteries. It alternates between being a romantic fantasy and an epic tale of passion and redemption, bringing the tale of Phèdre nó Delauney to a fitting close … for now.

The High House and The False House, by James Stoddard (Warner Aspect, 1998/2000)

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Welcome to the House that God built. Evenmere, the High House, that unending ever-changing building which crosses and contains worlds. It is, and represents, all Creation, an enigma, a parable, a mystery. Within its halls and rooms, passages and basements, attics and terraces, are the undreamt worlds, the lands of dream, places like Ooz and Innman Tor and Arkalen. The House bridges upon our own world, but is far more than a house. It just Is.

The High House demands a master. Carter Anderson, returned after a long exile, may be that Master. Or perhaps his half-brother Duskin, born to the conniving Lady Murmur, will take up the Tawny Mantle, Lightning Sword, and Master Keys, and reign over the Inner Chambers, the White Circle, and all the other realms of the High House. The House chooses its own, you see. It chooses the Master to watch over it, to maintain peace, to uphold ancient treaties, to combat the enemies which lurk at the outside gates and threaten to taint and warp all Creation for their own needs.

There is Brittle, the ancient butler, who has seen generations of Masters in his time. Chant, the Lamp-Lighter, who sees to it that all the myriad lights and lamps and flames of the universe are not snuffed. Enoch, the immortal Windkeep, responsible for the many clocks of Evenmere. These three are as much a part of the House as it is of them. They must guide and aide Carter as he seeks to become worthy of the mantle of Master. As he seeks the mystery of his lost father, quests for the lost Sword and Mantle and Keys and the Seven Words of Power. As he defies the last dinosaur, Jormangand, who rules the attic of Evenmere and devours those foolish enough to trespass. As he journeys beyond the Green Door, and into parts unknown…

The High House is full of vast concepts, maddening paradoxes and intriguing images. A House so vast, so contemptuous of the laws of time and space, that it stretches across all Creation, containing entire countries within its halls? A society of anarchists who oppose the House with every breath, seeking to master its power for themselves? Man-eating furniture, eternally preyed upon by intelligent tigers? A library which leads to other realms? The possibilities are endless, and the core idea audacious in its immensity. This is one of those ideas I wish I’d thought of first.

There’s something almost old-school about The High House, hearkening back to MacDonald and Dunsany and Carroll and Baum. The language, while stilted and odd at times, reads with an old flavor to it, evoking the language of the past. The names of the countries, places like Shyntagwin, Ephiny, High Gable, and Anwerr, are strongly reminiscent of Baum’s own place names. The concept of a physical House representing the abstract notion of all Creation, that’s the sort of thing C.S. Lewis might have thought up in an off moment.

The mystery only grows with the sequel, The False House. Carter Anderson, now the Master of Evenmere in his own right, has finally defeated the anarchists, for a time, and begun to return order to the House after the chaos they created. Entire countries lie devastated and desolate, in need of assistance. Outright rebellion still grips at least one province. And one of his most trusted allies has died for the cause. However, the future looks bright when he meets someone he could very easily fall in love with. But the High House doesn’t believe in happily ever after… and the anarchists steal away a young girl as part of a long-reaching plan to replace Evenmere.

Skip forward some years, to when it all comes to a head. Somewhere out in Oblivion, in the Outer Darkness where the House no longer reaches, someone has raised a False House, and begun the process of transforming vast numbers of people into clockwork perfection. They’ve stolen away the House’s source of power, and now Carter, his brother Duskin, and a small team must travel beyond the House, to prevent the destruction of all they know. But among them lurk traitors, anarchists who will betray them all at the worst time…

The Evenmere series is mind-boggling in its own way, the literary equivalent of M.C. Escher. The inside and outside of the House, interior and exterior, rooms and caverns, terraces and plains, walls and forests, are intertwined, so that it’s impossible to differentiate the two. Though it starts off slowly, slowly enough to make me despair at first, the mystery and the sheer scope of the story soon captivated me. The language is rich and whimsical, poetic and lyrical in a style one doesn’t seen often these days. It’s no light read, true, but a challenge to be enjoyed. It’s a mixture of epic fantasy, high adventure, and conceptual capriciousness. Evenmere is what you would get if you dropped the Winchester Mystery House into a giant mirror maze, and left it alone for a few decades.

In the end, The High House and The False House comprise one epic, fascinating story stretching across all that could be, and all that is. It’s new fantasy with a classic influence and a mythical resonance. While they won’t be to everyone’s tastes, I have to admit that James Stoddard has indeed produced something special. Evenmere stands a good chance of achieving a lasting status in the worlds of fantasy, and I really look forward to seeing more set in the same world. The possibilities for prequels, sequels, and other stories set in Evenmere are as endless as its corridors.