User Profile

The Black Prism is a great start to new Fantasy series. When an author takes the time to build a world organically, it shows. You start with the fundamentals and build a society around it, instead of starting at your conclusion and forcing everything to fit. Brent Weeks mastered the fundamentals with his light-based magic system, which is brilliant in both its application of the spectrum (with our modern scientific knowledge) and at how a medieval society could interact with such complexity. Additionally, the society and religion that is built around this magic is deep and realistic, and suffuses every element of the story.

Which leads me to the tale itself, told through the eyes of a number of narrators but primarily through Gavin Guile and Kip. The use of someone at the top of the ladder (both magically and society-wise) and another at the bottom results in a story that brings the entire Lightbringer world to life. Kip's internal dialogue is hilarious and often his conclusions are both wrong and self-deprecating... which feels right for a teenager. Meanwhile, the Prism is juggling plots within plots and balancing politics with worldwide consequences. Both are enjoyable viewpoints that contribute to an overall story so that you never want to skip ahead.

There are a few teething problems though. The first few chapters struggle to introduce the world, the characters, and build enough tension in the story to keep you reading. In retrospect, they feel dramatically different from the rest of the story so you'll have to suffer for a bit. Additionally, the overall plot feels a bit meandering at times, and I wasn't really sure where the story would go. It was the small wins that kept me reading early on, and by the time I stumbled across the plot, I was fully-bought in.

I really enjoyed The Black Prism. It's serious business, and while there is humour here and there, this is not a happy-ending type of book. I get the feeling that Brent Weeks is showing us the world so that he can tear it all down. And that's a ride that I'm happy to take part in.

Highly Recommended.

I'm going to cut to the chase: I detested this book. The Expanse at its best was a space mystery chasing down the fantastical proto-molecule. But it always had an undercurrent of violence-is-wrong and information-is-equality, and that philosophy rears its ugly head in Babylon's Ashes. There's incessant moralizing on the heels of Nemesis Games (spoilers incoming for the previous book), where state-sponsored terrorists killed ten billion civilians.

Half of human civilization is dead, and yet Belters are cheering for supervillainy that belongs in Marvel Comics, and declaring their support for the nation that stands on top of a war crime that makes the Nazis look restrained. Any wrongs, and I do mean any wrongs, pale in comparison to the deaths of ten billion civilians. And yet we're supposed to restrain and not retaliate? Sympathize and forgive these people? Be reminded that Belters are humans too?

Throughout the pages of Babylon's Ashes, the authors write as-if the attack on Earth was a Pearl Harbor. Belter narrators introduce the Free Navy, and we have to read about people who feel they've got the moral high ground because of the colonialist exploitation of Belters. Except they just killed ten billion civilians. And yet all our heroes twist themselves into knots to save Belters, despite them collaborating with a regime that is actively trying to exterminate them all!

Moving on: the Expanse is shifting into military science-fiction, and it fails miserably to deliver in that genre. The authors had always chosen to let the plot dictate what spaceships did, with the thinnest veener of hard sci-fi on top of it. The type of weapons, combat tactics, fleet makeup and locations... these were always fuzzy. Unfortunately, in military sci-fi, these things matter so that battles have impact.

In Babylon's Ashes, ships are destroyed in combat because the plot wants you to be worried, or more will magically appear because it'll be impactful. There's enough to take back territory until suddenly there isn't because overreach! They're always fast enough to ambush the protagonists, and slow enough so that there's no use chasing the antagonists. It's all amateur hour because either the authors never bothered doing the math, or didn't bother to plan so they could foreshadow correctly.

I know Persepolis Rising is more of the same, so I'm done with this series. It was a fun space fantasy adventure. It's terrible military sci-fi.

Not Recommended.

Am I dreaming? This is the novel that everyone's been waiting for since Avasarala finished verbally reaming everyone in Jovian Orbit at the end of Caliban's War. No - she's not back, but instead of three new character POVs that we must suffer through, we've been gifted with a focused novel centered on the four members of the Rocinante.

Namoi, Amos and Alex finally reach the spotlight. Them playing cards with Jim would have been a fine story on its own, but James Corey apologizes for the dud that was Cibola Burn with a story that seriously shakes up the status quo. Major changes to the solar system are forthcoming that feel organic, having arisen from the events of the previous novels. Our heroes do heroic things, showcasing four novels of character growth and also proving why they're the protagonists.

To put it succintly: Nemesis Games is what a sequel should be. Full stop.

Highly Recommended.

Cibola Burn continues James Corey's experiment with new POV characters every novel, which means there's a chance that the new ones are boring. Additionally, the author decides to take an isolated colony plotline that's been done a thousand times by other science-fiction writers, and stretch out hundred pages of plot into five. The result is a slog through chapters of filler where nothing happens, people monologue and threaten but never act, and you find yourself wondering how you were ever entertained by these novels.

Let's start with the characters: they're shallow and one-dimensional. Prax had two qualities and they've been split into Basia and Elvi. The former is only a husband who is afraid for his children, full-stop. If he's going to say something, it's about saving his children. Similiarly, Elvi is only a scientist so wrapped in their own work that she'd probably forget to breathe. Her internal monologuing compares everything to biomes and resource competition. It's what a non-scientist thinks a scientist acts like. This is combined with a cringe-inducing subplot where most of her character growth comes from a literal climax.

Next: many readers complain that Cibola Burn feels like filler. That's because of the plot. First, it's unimaginative. You could pull up an Age of Sail shipwreck story with the same basic plotline: shipwrecked humans at conflict on an isolated island. Add to that a flat and empty plain as your setting, and then provide our characters with nothing to do.

Our POV characters never take the initiative to resolve any of the problems they're faced with (with the exception of Basia's first chapter). Things just 'happen' and our characters respond to external stimulae. Even Jim Holden arrives at humanity's first extra-solar colony to solve internecine conflict, but has no plan other than "sit down and talk to people in a cafeteria." The real main character is Murtry, whose actions drive much of the plot but is not a POV.

In the past, whatever its faults, I was entertained by the Expanse. This time, I'm skimming pages looking for the plot. There's nothing redeeming here. Read the last chapter as the prologue to Book 5.

Not recommended.

I wish The Skystone wasn't advertised as related to Arthurian Legends, as a story about the transition from Roman to local rule in Britain set in the late 4th century is equally enticing. The back of the book is accurate for once and I regret not paying more attention. When viewed as a piece of historical fiction about one competent, intelligent and well-connected individual set in the dying days of the Roman Empire, this novel tells quite an enjoyable story.

Unfortunately, the novel feels dated -- it's written in a meandering fashion that is more biography than story. There's little in the way of an overarching plot. The only consistency is that the next chapter will see Publius Varrus being a bit older. I prefer novels that give me something to think about at all times, or to build tension dreading what the antagonists are planning. This is not what Jack Whyte intended to write so this is a me-problem.

Also: Roman doomsday preppers. It's hard not to be creeped out.

If you're a Roman Empire fan, and someone who enjoys the minuate about how things were made, objects traded and economies functioned, then this is definitely the novel for you. Even if you aren't, the novel is an easy read, with a cast of (overly) likeable characters and little in the way of adversaries (or even people being hostile). If that's what you're looking for in a novel, this is great for you.

Recommended with the above reservations.

I've had a complex relationship with The Expanse series, disliking its TV series and yet giving it a second chance via the novels. Abaddon's Gate has a lot of what I like about the series: the action is excellent, and it has a decent mystery (though not a police procedural) that adds a thrill to the times when the guns aren't firing. Holden is the glue that keeps the series anchored, and while he's an enjoyable presence, I'm also happy that his flaws are called out in-universe.

And yet... none of these books have been stand-out hits for me.

Abaddon's Gate is just serious enough to give the universe a sense of gravitas. But it never fully commits to either being serious business or a fun, easy read for the evening. The series is filled with high stakes (the fate of human civilization) and plenty of treacherous moments. I get a sense of loss, and the scope of what's going on doesn't allow me to turn off my brain, but the moment the going gets tough, we hit a patch of comic relief. Nowhere is this more obvious than the recurring joke about how Amos is a cold-blooded murderer but at least he's on our side.

Humor is fine, but the series is already short of dramatic tension. It's been a long time since Shed's demise, and nothing since then has made me worry for our heroes in the slightest. The antagonists in this series rarely appear on-screen, and if they do appear, are impotent. A constant stream of new POV characters allows us to stay emotionally uninvolved. When all these elements come together, I'm left with a novel that was entertaining, but forgettable.

Recommended with reservations.

I watched the second season of the TV show and wasn't a fan. I mentioned this in my review of Leviathan Wakes, but the TV show added so many Belter characters, and Avasarala was a main character from day one, so it felt more about Solar Politics than it did about the protomolecule. After finishing Caliban's War, I'm delighted to join the fans of the Expanse universe, and that's strictly because of one thing:

The books are better than the TV series.

I'm sure you're eyerolling, but I'm serious, and I think anyone who liked the TV series will be blown away by the superiority of the novels. It's not a mismatch in expectations, or real-world constraints preventing the fantastical elements from coming to life on-screen... it's about how the author tells a story.

The TV series rewrote the plots of two books, interweaving them into about 3 seasons of content. The climax of Leviathan Wakes occurs in the middle of season 2, muddling the conclusion of Eros with that of Caliban's War. Equally important, Bobbie and Avasarala spend episodes doing nothing of import because their role is to interact with the events of Caliban's War. What felt like plots that go nowhere, filler sequences that had no emotional impact... that's because they really were filler! It's a fantastic example of how difficult it is to adapt a novel into a TV series. Even introducing someone like Avasarala doesn't work if she isn't doing anything important.

Meanwhile, the novel Caliban's War starts with solar-system changing events and never stops. Avasarala is the stand out character, making even Holden feel like a second fiddle, and she puts us in the driving seat of high-stakes politics that we only heard about through hearsay. Bobbie and Prax add a welcome balance of humanity vs the polar opposites of Holden and Avasarala, and the mystery of Ganymede brings back the blend of detective work and action that made the first novel memorable.

Recommended.

I watched the first season of the TV show, and so my first read of Leviathan Wakes is effectively a re-read. Biases upfront though: I was disappointed with the TV show. It did a superb job of fleshing out the Belter culture, and the Colonial style excesses, corruption, and politics. What started as an analogy for European colonialism then turned out to be space fantasy, with magic driving the plot. I hated this thematic disconnect and bailed on the the TV show. But the series is generally well-regarded and I gave it a second chance, this time via the novels.

I'm glad I read Leviathan Wakes.

The book focuses on Holden and Miller, and their contrasting philosophies results in a fantastic interplay of these two main characters. More importantly, we stay focused on the mystery of the Scoupli, and this results in a tight narrative that moves at a breakneck pace while being filled with entertaining banter. The vivid colonial Belter culture is still there, but it's a rich background that allows these two wonderful protagonists to thrive.

That said, since I'm already aware of the plot, I didn't find the 're-read' to be all that exciting. Throughout the events of the book, the stakes are alleged to be high, but as a reader, I never really felt that threat truly impact our heroes. Perhaps unfair, but it's an indication that once the surprise is out of the bag, the story deflates quite a bit.

Recommended if you haven't watched the TV show.

I did it. I hate read a novel purely to criticize, but also to see Arlen Bales reach the end of his story. It's a testament to how amazing The Warded Man was, and how much I personally detest the author's values. As the series ends, I feel confident in my critiques, as there's no future plot line that might address these flaws. There are two major problems:

1. Moral Bankrupcy
2. Worldbuilding through Video Game Logic

Of these two, the former is horrifying and is why I'll never read anything by this author again. The latter highlights how vapid and stupid this fantasy setting actually is.

Moral Bankrupcy

I realized in The Skull Throne that Peter Brett actually believes the Krasians are the protagonists, and nothing in The Core changes this. We are presented with rape, slavery, woman as property, homophobia, might as right, warrior-culture masturbatory wank that is sold as Krasian culture. It praises child soldiers, blind theocratic rule, and detests intellectualism. We are provided numerous Krasian POV, and at some point, you gradually realize that you're meant to be rooting for these people to win. They held to the old ways, and we're supposed to be inspired by their focus on fighting demons.

Then consider the Daylight War. Krasians are pitted against the "fat Greenlanders" and proven to be superior. Of the four societies presented that are non-Krasian, all but the Hollow are casually defeated by the Krasian war machine. All but the Hollow suffer horrific losses against the Demons. Why is the Hollow the exception? Because they adopt a great deal of Krasian customs and treat with the Krasians as brothers (not sisters; remember: woman are property)... anyone who allies themselves with Krasians will suddenly find victory on their side. Even Arlen Bales became half-Krasian to reach his hero status.

The Krasians themselves suffer rare losses, outperforming even the Hollowers in all major Mind Demon-led battles. Their single loss at the end of The Skull Throne was a pyrrhic victory; presented more as the opener for a Krasian civil war (and implied later to be due to demon treachery).

The author is presenting that the Krasian way is superior both against demons, and against other societies.

Worse, by the end of the series, the Krasians never pay for their crimes. I'll avoid spoilers, but from a literary perspective, all deaths of the Daylight War are swept underneath the carpet. We even cheer for Krasian battle victories and the conclusion between all countries is childish in its simplicity.

Beyond the author's presentation of Krasia as a positive force, I feel it necessary to point out that both LGBT couples in this series happen to be untrustworthy, treacherous, and eventually killed or paralyzed for their evil life choices. Said named characters spend this book seeking forgiveness, and I find it difficult to overlook the decision to paint them in such a terrible light given Krasia's rampant homophobia. Am I saying the author is a closet homophobe? Yes.

Worldbuilding through Video Game Logic

At first, I believed this to be an excellently crafted world. By the end of The Core, I've come to realize that this series is just a video game JRPG. There is actually a last dungeon that leads to the demon boss, complete with a final city before the dungeon entrance, AND a place of rest and safety inexplicably near the end (so that you may save your game, dear player). From this viewpoint, all the weaknesses of worldbuilding in this series become obvious:

Peter Brett is writing a video game.

There's no worldbuilding. There's no thought about societies, economics, the exchange of ideas, or even people acting as people while off-screen. You see this primarily through the power creep as the series progresses: abilities that were rare suddenly become as common as firewood without any explanation.

Wards used to be difficult to draw and require people spend years of training, and even then they get it wrong. By the time of The Core, people are sketching wards in the air to generate magic spells within a week of being taught "secrets". There's a scene where barbarians are shown the fighting wards and they draw it on all their spears without any failure and go fighting demons within minutes. Considering the whole culture of Wards was critical to the story in The Warded Man, making it so that Arlen's legendary proficiency becomes standard amongst unnamed Krasian damas by the end of the series is a sad affair.

Then come the magic-technological advances... warded glass and electrum were revealed in books 2 and 3, and somehow both sides have access and are mass producing this stuff for trained mooks within months by book 5. Former critical secrets are inexplicably commonplace, so that everyone can read emotions, hide from demons, and cast spells by drawing in the air. Many of these advances occur when there's no possible communication between two different peoples, and yet competing armies will soon have access to every powerup. This is video game logic: Item Unlocked. Spell Learned. Upgrade Completed.

I'm not even going to get into the lack of industry: mining operations, smelting, blacksmithing, cokeries, assembly lines. The muskets were hilarious given this is pre-Industrial revolution. There's no factories in this universe, and we've got entire platoons of fully trained soldiers appearing in secret.

And then there's the final dungeon... listen, if you've played these video games, you know all the super strong monsters are down there. This book shouldn't be a video game novelization, so these monsters should have some sort of ecological system, or impact across the wider world that foreshadowed their existence. Not only are they sufficiently powerful to challenge our legendary heroes, they're so powerful you have to wonder why they're hidden away, locked behind weaker demon mooks. There's no need to wonder in a video game, but in a self-serious novel like this one? Video game logic drives this setting.

Summary

I came into the Demon Cycle with high hopes because The Warded Man felt like a triumph of worldbuilding. But the author fell in love with his own Krasian culture and spent the next four books writing about them, their history, and their superiority. That he spent thousands of pages metaphorically wanking it to his Desert Supermen instead of spending time writing events so that everyone could be a competent warder, armed with the best of magic and technology, resulted in hilarious video game logic that makes these novels read like the work of a teenager.

I'd love to spend word count talking about the disaster of this closing novel, especially about the promotion of three side characters into main characters without any of the writing skill necessary to make the reader emotionally attached. I'll take a moment to warn you that there's an entire subplot dedicated to graphic torture, with castration and mutilation aplenty. But I've gone on long enough.

Seriously, the author has written a mysogynistic and homphobic book that puts Krasians on a pedestal, asking you to cheer for their superior values of Might as Right, and asks you to approve casual slavery and torture along the way. It's indefensible.

Not recommended.

I have no idea how I managed to finish The Skull Throne. I detested The Daylight War and I decided to skim the opening chapter to resolve just the cliffhanger. But I found myself more than halfway through, as the author managed to dangle enough Deliverer chapters early, AND I ruthlessly skipped all content from yet another new Krasian POV flashback. Yes, that's right, Peter Brett actually upgraded yet another side character, gave her a narrative, and then used flashback mechanics so that you can enjoy events all over again from someone else's viewpoint. I'm not making this shit up.

The Skull Throne actually kicks off the human on human conflict that is the definition of The Daylight War. That's the good part... this novel is better than the bomb that was the previous. The deep dive into Rhinebeck's court is welcome, but it should have been part of the second novel where it gives us insight into the political arenas before the war. Instead, it comes after the war's started, at a time when it reads like irrelevant filler.

I'd like to say that politics and war means less sex / romance drama, but that wouldn't be Peter Brett. We literally explore the Duke's sex life. The book also needs an appendix for Jardir's family tree because we're supposed to care about 30+ characters that are related to him by marriage or blood. And Leesha and Rojer continue their relationship drama subplots that started in The Desert Spear and like a real soap opera, repeats the same bullshit over and over.

What is new is my realization that Peter Brett thinks the Krasians are the protagonists. Narration has often been from their viewpoint, and despite the child abuse, rape, sexism, theocractic rule AND warrior jingoism, they've been given every advantage in terms of skill at arms, logistics, economics, and even technology. This was understandable against Demons, but against other human nations, it's a frightening contrast. It appears that Peter Brett really believes that Might makes Right, and selling woman, raising child-soldiers, and rampant rape creates an undefeatable human society.

I'm not sure anything else matters. I'm out.

If you must find out what happens, borrow the book from the library or search for a summary online. Let's stop giving this author any more of our money.

Not Recommended.

The Daylight War is not the book I was expecting. Renna and Inevera are now the main characters, while Arlen has done little since the first book other than wander around the countryside punching things. Jardir was elevated from sidekick to main character in the second novel, and while it was annoying to stop reading about Arlen, I was willing to give it a pass given their opposing roles in a possible epic battle.

The back of the book would have you think this is about the ongoing struggle between Arlen and Jardir. It's not. The reality is that The Daylight War is about Inevera growing up and becoming the woman you already know in The Desert Spear. Worse, it retells the events of the last book, but now you get to see what Inevera was doing. Unbelievable. I don't want to spend 50% of every new book learning about someone's past history, and to re-read events from another's perspective is insulting when it's in the sequel. Flashbacks are lazy enough, but this takes it to a new level.

Peter Brett weaved a creative world with demons appearing in the night, but his writing skill is lacking. Not only do we revisit Inevera's marriage schemes with Jardir, all the other characters are dealing with high school relationship drama: gossip, sex, marriage, babies. The worst of these is Reena's B-Plot... she was inexplicably shoehorned into The Desert Spear, and I read her parts waiting for Arlen to show because that was the only way to read about the character I loved from the first novel. Now to add insult to injury, even Arlen's scenes are dripping with relationship drama thanks to Reena.

The last third of the book is what I was waiting for, but it's too little too late. With the majority of page count dedicated to relationship drama, the battles with the demons feel ad-hoc and our heroes unprepared. There's a lot of implied upgrades and preparations for the demon war, but you won't be reading about them because this isn't a book about fighting demons, silly reader. This is about relationship gossip, and who is sleeping with whom! Ah... and when the climax of the book abruptly arrives, it's no surprise that the author reaches for a cheesy cliffhanger in order to sell the next book.

To summarize: the main characters you like get replaced, you get spend 50% of the book re-reading the events of the LAST book, and there's more relationship drama than demon fighting.

Not Recommended.

The Justice of Kings was a surprise hit for me. Biases on the table, I love stories of Warrior-Judges and I expected to enjoy Konrad Volvalt wielding his unlimited authority to deal out justice within the Empire. I wasn't quite sure what else was in store, and I'm impressed with a story that seamlessly flows between a mystery akin to police procedurals as well as that of a treacherous plot rotting out the foundations of power. The worldbuilding is phenomenal, bringing to life the Empire and both how it expands and maintains its authority. Despite spending most of the story on the fringes, we know as much about the institutional pillars of Sova as if the story was all politics in the capital.

Volvalt is the reason why this novel excels though. Written through the eyes of his clerk, we get to learn about this cold, aloof Justice that reports directly to the Emperor, and we see the brilliant balance of morals and ruthlessness necessary to maintain a code of law during a time where might-makes-right. I was never disappointed when Volvalt was on-stage, and while Helena is often a frustrating character, the narration is that of Helena dictating her memoirs in her old age, and so often includes self-deprecating humor or criticisms that makes this an easy read.

All that said... The Justice of Kings is serious business. It's very grimdark, and set in a realistic medieval world with just a tinge of magic. Swords and sorcery are present, but expect more politics than action. And finally, the protagonists are not the good guys, they're just the least bad option. I love this kind of setting, but if you're just looking for a fun ride, this is not the novel for you.

Highly recommended.

Sometimes you're reading a book and it's exactly what it is: there's nothing surprising about the plot, there's no layers to unravel, and duplicity is an unknown concept. The people? Everyone is logical and reasonable, and they're able to spot their own faults and accept responsibility for past mistakes. That's the true work of fiction in Spoils of War, a story about soldiers who would put propaganda posters to shame with their self-sacrifice and commitment to the survival of the Terran Empire. I've read guilty pleasures like that, but the author needs to bring their A-game for the rest of the novel.

Unfortunately, there's no depth to either the world or the characters. You've got a straightforward good vs evil plot (the evil side is truly evil, murdering civilians and children alike). There's not a single bad character amongst the good folks, and the evil side is universally despicable except for our main character. The world is light science-fiction, with ill-defined weapons, armor, and generally all technology. Space ships move at the pace of the plot. Weapons and armor are scaled up versions of what we have today. Politics and societies are practically non-existent.

But what makes this really hard to bear is the preaching. Conversations are unbelievably fake -- characters monologuing about their values, or making off-the-cuff speeches that politicians would have speech writers create. They keep going on about how they're going to accept responsibilty, or fix a previous wrong, or what their life goal is going to be. I'd be surprised if you didn't roll your eyes once at the black and white explanations.

I know I sound harsh. It's not a bad novel. There's just nothing memorable in it.

Not recommended.

Nemesis of Mars is properly the sequel of Mountain of Mars, as Damien Montgomery finally returns to star as the lead character. It picks up all the subplots that had quietly baked for four novels, mixes them up, and delivers an explosive mix of action and conspiracy that the Hand of the Mage-King is uniquely situated to solve. If you had any doubts that the success of this series was in large due to Damien's personality and attitude, this novel should put them to rest.

Despite my gushing praise, this novel also gives me grief, because after Beyond the Eyes of Mars, I resolved to stop comparing Roslyn Chambers novels to those led by Damien Montgomery. I felt it did her a disservice and the series had transitioned away from Warrior Judges to Space Ships. Sadly, this novel is about a Hand going to war, and like a messy breakup, this reminder will mean I'll likely miss Damien in the Roslyn-centric sequels.

Roslyn herself lampshades that she's playing second fiddle to Damien. It's not her fault, but this novel dramatically highlights how much better Starship's Mage is while Damien is around. When someone of his sheer power is around, the story rises to match. The action is fierce, our heroes are constantly reacting, the enemies are brilliant to the point that they're nearing Xanatos Gambit tropes, and the body count is sky-high. It's everything that has made Starship's Mage great.

Highly Recommended.