littlepiscesreading's reviews
88 reviews

 I’ve always been enchanted and enthralled by Catherine Fisher’s worlds, but none like this. The fog shrouded, starlit town of Starspill seeped into my thoughts whenever I put the book down. The writing can be so wonderfully evocative and sensory, and it’s gloriously atmospheric – as magical as it is mysterious, from setting to characters. It feels like there’s something around every corner just waiting to reveal itself. Possibility is tantalisingly tangible. 

It feels like a storybook world at times. Stars used as sources of light. The gathering of townsfolk to listen to a history that feels more myth than real. But Starspill doesn’t shy from thrilling with threat either. The spectre of the Wolf lives on in more than just the perpetual darkness of the world and there’s the ever-present slither of the knowing fog. The cats are both adorable and scheming. They’re both excellent facets of the book and work so well together to bring it to life and give it depth. 

Zac is a great protagonist, considerate and dreamful and brave. But the entire cast is fantastic. His friendship with Alys feels lived in and she makes for a great compliment to him with her astuteness and ability to charge ahead. Aurelian’s wisdom and Jinx’s ambitious round the group out perfectly. And I love Jinx. What a sweet wee schemer. 

I did begin to worry once the second Ember came into play and I noticed how many pages were left. But I should have had more faith in Fisher. It comes together wonderfully and Zac’s moment of consideration made me quite emotional. My one criticism is that while threats that are so terribly powerful makes for great tension and thrills but it forces certain constraints on the way the end plays out. I wish it hadn’t been taken quite so out of hand. 

To end on a more positive note, I love the little sub-headings under each chapter. They build anticipation so well and add to that sense of magic that I love so dearly. 

 This sequel begins immediately where the first left off and I was eager to see where Asmar would go after abandoning his companions and couldn’t be happier with Rasch’s choice. The Sitire have been the enemy for so long. I relished this time in Sitim and the humanisation of its people. However it also immediately validated my criticisms from the last book. There are too many characters. More this time who are immediately relevant. But I didn’t remember Orien at all when he returned so you can understand my trepidation when an entire troupe of acrobats was introduced. 

And no, there’s still no character index. 

The issue isn’t just that there are so many all at once. It doesn’t keep track of returning characters well. Orien only features in two chapters in the first book, I believe. And not long in this one. The kindness of a stranger lingers. But it’s hard to people a world with what might as well be grave markers, a name, a place, here and gone. The transitory nature of its cast can be incredibly effective, as much as to its detriment. 

Nonetheless the world and its peoples were some of the elements I most enjoyed in the first book and that continues here with the Wanderer and the others outside of the wizards’ reach. So much having been established this book was able to slow and to take its time with people and places. In particular I was fascinated by the community Asmar met with towards the end. Similarly I enjoyed its focus on enough – on what is, and trying to be, even when you fall short. It lent a richness to the narrative. 

However what troubles the book is Asmar. While I find his hardheaded lack of nuance sometimes frustrating, I do like it as characterisation. It comes across mostly that he’s wrong when faced with the Wanderer, however, who knows more than he does. And he knows more than everyone else. It’s an interesting choice to see him be such a wizard despite what he claims. It’s great to watch as he reels from the possibility of becoming like Malzus and yet delves, skims and mines other people’s minds with nary a second thought. Even going so far as to open other people’s minds to strangers. It continually teases a theme of responsible and ethical use of the powers his wizardry affords him but its engagement is shallower than I expected. A homogeneity is falling over the group under his guidance, for instance. It’s still well drawn and interesting. 

Thanks to iRead Book Tours and J.D. Rasch. I leave this review voluntarily. 

 

The Silver Forest is as compelling as it is imperfect. The wizards are fascinating – inscrutable and detached, almost inhuman. And terrifyingly powerful. The first chapter illustrates this magnificently. I was breathless as Malzus made his attempt. It’s also where the first cracks show. It can’t be helped that there are nine members of the council and it does an admirable job of not overwhelming you. However that doesn’t remain the case with chapter six throwing eight characters your way. And seven characters in chapter twelve. 

Malzus is detestable and pitiable, and I enjoyed reading his chapters but they stood out instantly as some of the weakest parts of the book. Not all prologues are set in a different time than the story proper but having it as one rather than the first chapter would have signalled that more clearly. Better yet – a subheading. We find out that’s the case when the narrative returns to Malzus and there’s a mad dash to recount all the years that have passed. It almost makes you breathless trying to keep up. This does improve with each of his chapters but it’s not the only time this happens. 

Chapter six and twelve are overloaded with characters. Some of whom I expect to become more relevant as the series progresses but some of whom are just thrown in to die. It’s hard to keep up for that reason alone but I have never skipped a stone across water as much as this chapter does across locations. There are fantasy novellas, yes. But the image conjured by the mention of them tends to be longer works. A few more chapters would have given both the narrative and readers more space to breathe. 

The longer chapters don’t entirely escape this sense either. They encompass such spans of locations and progress that they often read like run-on paragraphs. It leaves the pace uneven. But while our first meeting the Aris is frustrating and unclear the world building does find its feet. The Tulanders by virtue of having connection to Asmar and Remer but finer details come through with time. I do love that craftsman are so happy to tell Asmar about their work, for instance. It does toe the line of infodumping but their pride in their work saves it. 

Asmar and Remer are the strongest portions of the book. They have the most internality and their characterisation is strong. It spends the most time focused on them so their sections have the strongest sense of consistent pacing. Asmar’s identity is obvious but the reveal comes at a well paced point in the story where the mystery has built but not overstayed its welcome. And there’s a quiet tragedy in Asmar’s journey as he becomes the person who can face Malzus and ever less the boy from Tuland. 

Through the book is carefully woven doubt in the way wizards are and are seen. It truly is excellently done. Whether this is a tragedy of falling short of ideals or it leans into the aspects most resembling colonialism will be riveting to see play out. 

Thanks to iRead Book Tours and J.D. Rasch. I leave this review voluntarily. 

 Sedona is complicated. An enjoyable mystery with a characterful cast. I should like it more than I do. Unfortunately its synopsis is untrue. It wasn’t a search for more that drove Cal to Sedona. It was her dying grandmother. And rather than spunk she suffers the stresses of underemployment, healthcare and making rent. I will give Sedona it’s due, however. It illustrates her troubles (and that of a tourist town in off-season) nicely without losing focus and wove the two together well. 

I enjoyed the mystery as it played out. Her continual need to stop and rethink her own approach was interesting. At twenty-two, Cal is young and naive with a startlingly black and white worldview. Cal does inspire exasperation at times, but sympathy too. And I totally get her excitement sweeping her off her feet. Her growth is satisfying to watch unfold. 

Most of the book is told in her perspective but diverges here and there. I mostly appreciated this because those chapters all provided great character work but it did feel in some instances like we readers weren’t trusted to understand what was going on ourselves. There were scenes in these chapters which were excellent and could only have come from this switch in perspective. Nonetheless, given Freeman’s ability to handle the nuance of her characters and settings, even while writing in Cal’s often limited view, I can’t help but wonder how necessary they were. 

For the most part the book understands that it’s dealing with people’s beliefs but it doesn’t go out of its way to validate them or sneer down at its characters who believe. But it’s still fraught. There’s a lot of woo and stereotypes. Cal does hear ‘Native American flutes’ where there are none. A slur against the Romani makes its way in. And there is a miraculous recovery. 

‘Behind the curtain of every wndow’ are secrets is also a bit of a stretch. There’s really only one mystery – what is going on at Belle Butte. Most of the town’s secrets tie into that so it doesn’t quite come across as ubiquitous though there are threads that could spin into a sequel. It stands solid on its own, however. That said I’m interested where Freeman goes next because of how much its strengths stand out. 

Thanks to iReadBookTours and Kerry Fryar Freeman. I leave this review voluntarily. 

 Go! Go! Loser Ranger! has such a simple deconstructive premise that I’m surprised it hasn’t been done to death. Unfortunately I’ll likely have to wait a little longer before I find an iteration that I really enjoy. The manga has a distinct style but it’s one consisting of many panels and often a lot of shading and effects. There are moments where Haruba wields sparseness excellently. However I find it tends to crowd together. 

Its cast of characters is quite small. This should have been to its benefit. However given the focus on setting the stage they mostly fall flat. D is single-minded to the point of one dimensionality. Hibiki Sakurama doesn’t have many appearances which is a shame. He isn’t righteous, nor vengeful, and I can’t help but hope for his dream of reform even though I suspect it’s hopelessly naïve. But it’s Yumeko Suzukiri I’ve thought about most. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was just waiting for someone like D to show up. Her portrayal is so mysterious, however, that it totters between intriguing and empty. 

Nonetheless there are effective character moments. It was exciting when a character went mask off. The comedy can be slapstick. D frequently loses his head. But that moment sets the stakes beautifully. The Super Sentai fight scenes aren’t quite as impressive to me when drawn but there are excellent confrontations and Haruba makes great use of the Dusters’ abilities. 

All in all there’s a lot of promise in Go! Go! Loser Ranger! and I would recommend it. 

When the arcs were first offered I pounced on the sample chapter and instantly plunged into love with the beauty of Navola’s language, on the far-flung mysteries of its wide world. I had to know what followed that dazzling cliffhanger. And it did not disappoint.

The world of Navola is wide and vast. And while its intricacies could be dense, it wasn’t intimidating. In Davico’s telling it flows from the page smoothly and with ease. He sits in the scittorium surrounded by scriveri, numerari and abacassi, and we learn the world in the context of itself. I love fantasies woven through with language and enjoyed it immensely here. My interest and fascination were piqued as well by Davico’s lessons with Dellacavallo on the wonders of the natural world.

A world that was so easy to fall in love with. Navola’s beautiful palazzos and twisting alleys, the wild Romiglia, and whispers of deserts passing beneath a dragon’s wings. The interludes offered a brief glimpse of the world outside of Davico and I loved them for it and for the anticipation they built for what would follow. I wanted to sit by as minstrels spun their lush myths. And it made the book all the more hypnotic as Davico grew and the mire of the city and its politics cast darker and darker shadows across all of it. Bacigalupi builds tension the way a storm rolls in, first flickers of atmosphere, rising, rising, rising, to devastating crescendoes.

Often I’ve written about my love of stories about stories. The thrust of this book is politics and all the treasons that entails but it’s woven so well with all the stories that the characters tell themselves. Both about themselves and the people around them. When Davico was warned to be careful lest he come to believe his own disbelief in himself. The repeated refrains of twisty Navolese and their bloodthirsty neighbours. His growing understanding in a world where alliances can be the sand of an hourglass is so wonderfully illustrated throughout.

It can be difficult to read at times. Davico often makes gross commentary on characters’ fatness. The violence is harrowing. There are often instances of sexual violence and coercion. None of it is shied from. It is a brutal book. A beast of a book in so many ways. And I loved each and every page of it.