Emma Newman‘s Planetfall (newly republished by Gollancz, who provided a review copy) is a brilliant SF psychological thriller. Renata Ghali is an engineer on a high-tech extra-terrestrial colony founded by the visionary Lee Suh-Mi who brought together a group of colonists to flee Earth and travel to a new planet. The colony is small, but stable, living around the base of an alien structure part plant, part animal and part city. Suh-Mi is inside, communing with an alien civilisation, and the colonists have been awaiting her return for more than 20 years. But the colony’s peace is over-turned when Suh-Mi’s grandson walks out of the grassland and into their lives, claiming to be the only survivor of a group of colonists believed to have crashed on landing.
Renata is a troubled protagonist, and the novel slowly reveals both her mental illness and the likely cause of it. She suffers from anxiety, struggles to connect with other people and hoards goods. She fell for Suh-Mi, her former flatmate, and followed her across the stars to escape a troubled relationship with her parents, and an increasingly dystopian Europe of scarcity, diminishing opportunity and encroachment on freedom. The colony project is a grand vision of escape she can throw herself behind, running away from the challenges of Earth. Newman’s depiction of Renata famously draws on some of her own personal history of anxiety, and is one of the best and most sympathetic portrayals of a complex and flawed character I’ve come across recently.
The reader quickly realises that all is not as it seems within the colony. The Machiavellian and manipulative figure of Mack looms large within the novel. Known as the Ringmaster, his job was to bring the colonists together and help broker their departure from Earth, using his charisma and influencing skills to create a shared vision and manage the people dynamics. After landing, he has turned those skills to keeping the colony going while it awaits Suh-Mi’s return. Superficially jovial, charming and caring, the reader soon realises there is a much more sinister undercurrent.
Newman is an accomplished novelist, though Planetfall is her first foray into SF. The plot unravels with a beautiful balance of twists, reveals and insights that never once feels like Newman is artificially witholding information from the reader for plot purposes. We travel with Renata as she revisits traumatic events of the past that she has tried to bury and forget. And Newman gives us a brilliantly diverse cast of all races, genders and sexualities.
I am delighted that Gollancz has picked up this series of books, enabling Newman to finish writing and publishing the sequels. This is exciting and fresh fiction.
Goodreads rating: 4*
There are a whole bunch of cliches about urban fantasy. About ‘strong’ female protagonists with the ability to kick demon butt and a taste for form-fitting black leather, tattoos, piercings and edgy haircuts. About irresistibly sexy Fae creatures that capture the hearts of said strong female protagonists, often after stories involving love triangles. And plots centring on conspiracies, world-threatening catastrophe and hidden pasts. So much so that when I picked up Amanda Hocking‘s Between the Blade and the Heart (review copy from Pan Macmillan) I took it for parody to begin with. But apparently it’s meant to be serious, and Hocking’s popularity suggests her writing is the source for a lot of these tropes and cliches.
This was a book I didn’t finish. There are holes in the plot and the world-building you could drive the main character Malin’s luft-bike through. And the prose was so eye-rollingly facile and over-sexualised that I struggled. This is pure chick-lit – romance with the slight gloss of a supernatural mystery to solve as Malin gets involved in correcting a mistake her mother once made that arguably puts the world at risk. It aspires to being ‘edgy’ with Malin’s bisexuality, strained relationship with her mother, references to drink and drugs, and her status as a professional slayer of immortals, but this is as derivative a work of fiction as they come.
The characters are unlikeable stereotypes, yet with Hocking making a point of telling us exactly how attractive they all are. Malin is a standard issue strong-female-protagonist, who aspires to being a rebellious outsider (by not taking her college classes seriously, by ignoring instructions and advice, and partying hard). Her flatmate Oona is a put-upon doormat. And there is a classic Mean Girl at college, who is no doubt destined to become Malin’s BFF. Add to that mix a Sexy Ex, a hot Friend With Benefits, and a Sexy Yet Mysterious Stranger and I noped my way out fast.
Hocking’s popularity and sales suggest she has a devoted readership and following of fans. I am glad they are reading work they enjoy. But this is not my cup of tea. I prefer books with a bit more substance.
Goodreads rating: 1*
Time travel novels are relatively rare. It’s too easy to get caught up in a knot of grandfather paradoxes and endless self-referential loops. Plus Doctor Who has pretty much sewn up the market. Time travel stories work best when the stories told are small, and personal. That’s what E J Swift gives us with Paris, Adrift (review copy from Rebellion).
Hallie is a teenager escaping from a difficult family home by putting off university, travelling to Paris and working in a bar. Nudged towards a bar called Millie’s by a mysterious stranger, she finds a new family in the transient community of Paris bar staff. She also finds an anomaly in the keg room beneath the bar that enables her to travel through time. Unbeknownst to Hallie, she’s been selected as the person most likely to be able to avert a dystopian, apocalyptic future by making small changes to the course of events.
Hallie’s story is a coming of age tale. She grows in confidence and maturity as she comes to terms with her challenging family upbringing. It’s a love song to that time in our life when we first move away from home and discover self-reliance. Hallie has the chance to reinvent herself in Paris, connecting with a diverse group of likeable people, both in her contemporary Paris, and the city throughout time.
The world-building has a pleasing sense of mystery, with the anomaly left unexplained, and the plot moves along swiftly. Paris, Adrift is an enjoyable story told with pace and skill.
Goodreads rating: 3*
Last year’s The Bear and the Nightingale was one of my favourite reads of the year: a feel-good adventure story about a young girl overcoming a threat to her village with the help of the fairies and other mythical beings that live near her Russian home. The Girl in the Tower (review copy from Penguin Random House) is the sequel, and second book in the trilogy.
The Girl in the Tower picks up straight after the events of the first book. Mourning her family and lacking a place in the world, Vasya decides to try her luck in the world, riding out dressed as a boy and with a pocket full of silver. She finds herself on the trail of bandits burning villages, before accidentally meeting up with her brother Sasha, travelling to Moscow and finding herself pitted against another of Morozko the frost demon’s bitter enemies.
This is a classic – and winning – formula. A tomboyish girl fighting against the gendered conventions of her time, a magical horse, adventure, peril and a happy ending. Arden ups the stakes in this sequel, with Vasya also fighting to save her niece from a cloistered life as a Russian noblewoman within the even more constrained environment of the Moscow court. Vasya continues to be impulsive, wilful and an utter delight.
Goodreads rating: 4*
I suppose it was inevitable that at some point renowned human rights campaigner Shami Chakrabarti would want to say her piece on gender issues. Of Women (review copy from Penguin) is that book: a take on modern, intersectional feminism, grounded in the language of human rights.
Of Women is a classic articulation of the principles of third-wave feminism, allowing for and embracing the ideals of diversity and individuality, in a way that accommodates differences of emphasis and culture. As you would expect, this is a book that is very strong on the interaction between gender issues and other protected characteristics, and with a strong global focus. The whole is backed up with a strong evidence base and good argument. Although each chapter is focused on a particular theme (home, work etc), Chakrabarti draws out the inter-connections between these issues well.
Where Of Women is weaker, though, is in its solution to many of these issues. Chakrabarti identifies the way gender issues harm men as much as they do women, but offers little in the way of solution. And apart from some brief reflections about her own family history of migration and her mother, there is little here that is personal. And at times Chakrabarti descends into the party political in a way that serves to undermine the arguments that she is making.
This is a book that articulates the arguments and evidence for third-wave feminism well, but adds little that is new to the public discourse.
Goodreads rating: 3*
I’ve had lucid dreams. Dreams where you know you are dreaming, and can alter the events, rewinding and replaying for a different outcome. Charlie does that for a living in Sweet Dreams by Tricia Sullivan (review copy from Gollancz). She is a dreamhacker: paid to go into other people’s dreams to help them overcome phobias and anxiety. It’s not a job with a big client list, and it doesn’t pay well, but it fits well round the narcolepsy Charlie was left with as a side-effect of a drug trial she participated in while penniless at university.
One of Charlie’s few clients is a famous musician who is suffering from extreme nightmares that are beginning to affect her career. She is visited each night by The Creeper – a mysterious masked figure determined to cause harm. When the musician dies one night, Charlie finds herself under investigation for the death, but also the the Creeper’s next target. Desperate to deal with the Creeper and clear her name, Charlie finds herself uncovering a conspiracy.
Sweet Dreams is a great near-future thriller, looking at themes about the integration of technology in our lives, its increasing sophistication, and how we choose to approach it.
Goodreads rating: 3*
Regular readers of this blog will know that I loved The Gilded Cage, the debut novel from Vic James. So I was delighted to get a review copy of its sequel, Tarnished City from Pan Macmillan. Go read my earlier review if you want the backdrop to this trilogy.
You will be relieved to hear that Tarnished City picks up immediately after the cliffhanger ending of the previous book, and continues with the same, unrelenting pace. Without spoiling the plot of either this book or the first in the series I can say that the events of The Gilded Cage have irreversible changed the lives of all those caught up in them. Both Abi and Luke find themselves set on very different – but equally dangerous – paths.
One of the things I loved about The Gilded Cage was its commentary on English history and class issues. This continues in Tarnished City, and James’s writing if anything has got even more political. This book exposes in some detail the culture of the super-rich and powerful, exploring whether they should be seeking to preserve that position of power, or using it to help the less privileged. In a searing look at contemporary celebrity culture, James looks at the way the public are at times complicit in perpetuating those power structures by lionising the very people who do the least to help them. And where the last book fictionalised the Peterloo massacre, Tarnished City gives us both the Gunpowder Plot and the Stanford Prison Experiment.
This is incredibly high-grade writing from Vic James – Tarnished City is insightful and thought-provoking while delivering a thoroughly ripping yarn.
Goodreads rating: 4*