For anyone new to Rehabilitated Hack Writer Recommends, I target my book reviews towards novelists (you can find my prior reviews here). I also need to point out that this is a review of the first book of a series, not the series itself.

Before we dive headfirst into the fantasy pool of epic goodness that is Tara Mara’s The Unfinished Song: Initiate, we need to take a step back and formally define what epic fantasy is in the novel landscape of 2012. The classic definition of epic or high fantasy is it’s a sub-genre of fantasy set in invented worlds.

I hate that definition.

To me, epic fantasy needs to be, well, epic. Epic. This is fun, but not epic, fantasy:

A mysterious, sexy pale-skinned sword dancer hires an infamous mercenary to find her kidnapped brother. The mercenary learns there is more to women than bedding them, while the sister learns that if she lets her quest define her life, she becomes defeated before the rescue of her brother ever begins.

Bonus points if you can guess that book, by the way.

Now this, this is epic:

The good peoples, it seemed, never defeated the evil that threatened to consume them all, only delayed the final battle. The dark and vile lord who threaten freedom everywhere wrapped his essence into a ring, and now a band of unlikely heroes must cast the ring into the fiery pit of its creation or see it reunited with its maker. Setting out on their quest with the best intentions, the task soon falls to the smallest and unlikeliest hero while the armies of evil marshal to crush everything in its path. If the hero doesn’t destroy the ring and thus the dark lord in time, there won’t be anything left to save.

Epic fantasy is ambitious. Epic fantasy is grandiose. Epic fantasy is bigger than the sum of its parts. It’s heroic, it’s classic, it’s is all-encompassing and all-consuming fantasy. There are stakes. The stakes are high. You could say that the stakes are (wait for it!) epic.

And Mara’s Unfinished Song: Initiate is an introduction into 21st century epic fantasy. Here’s the teaser:

Dindi can’t do anything right, maybe because she spends more time dancing with pixies than doing her chores. Her clan hopes to marry her off and settle her down, but she dreams of becoming a Tavaedi, one of the powerful warrior-dancers whose secret magics are revealed only to those who pass a mysterious Test during the Initiation ceremony. The problem? No-one in Dindi’s clan has ever passed the Test. Her grandmother died trying. But Dindi has a plan.

Kavio is the most powerful warrior-dancer in Faearth, but when he is exiled from the tribehold for a crime he didn’t commit, he decides to shed his old life. If roving cannibals and hexers don’t kill him first, this is his chance to escape the shadow of his father’s wars and his mother’s curse. But when he rescues a young Initiate girl, he finds himself drawn into as deadly a plot as any he left behind. He must decide whether to walk away or fight for her… assuming she would even accept the help of an exile.

Now I know what you are thinking. You’re thinking, wow, that sounds cool, but um, that doesn’t sound too epic to me.

Oh, my friends, pour a cup of hot tea and wait for it. Don’t let the girly frou-frou cover and character-driven teaser fool you. Behind the rich, detailed world-building lies the heartbeat of an epic fantasy tale that rises above the bounds of mythology and into a coming-of-age novel that will leave the reader yearning for more. Maya clearly dips her plot and characters in several different mythologies, yet the book has a distinctive voice that tugs at your heartstrings.

Let’s deconstruct the goodness going on here.

World-Building

Maya’s world building kicks ass. It’s unique, it’s ambitious, and it has an undercurrent of femininity that, without the advent of the interweb tubes, the story Maya is trying to tell never would have seen the light of day. It’s so different it is, and I say this with no exaggeration, a high fantasy literary bomb of mass destruction. It is not so much a filled with troupes and familiar themes as it becomes a classic example of the very idea of world-building.

How does she accomplish this? Maya’s neolithic setting latches on the magical undercurrents of the world she envisioned and never lets them go.

For example, stone-aged peoples in the real world were concerned primarily with survival. Gender roles and relations follow a path necessary for the continuation of the individual and the group.  There is a reason when an attractive woman smiles at a man she unconscionably puts her hair behind an ear, why rejection impacts men and women differently and why we are creatures of instinct despite our technological advancements.

Yet, toss magic into the fray. Magic, like technology, lends itself to the removal of the disparity of force. Maya takes this one step where few tread: it’s not necessarily what you can wield, but more what you know. Dindi’s quest isn’t so much a classic grab-onto-the-power but an unlocking of a mystery.

That moves us back to the impact of the type of magic Maya puts forth. Women, in her tribal society, have distinct roles but they are far from simple property. Women need to bear children so the society she has shaped takes that into account, but it’s not as if the magic is something that sits around in a feudal or even Victorian society as if it’s a character by itself rather than infused into the setting. It has a distinct feminine vibe without the politically correct bullshit.

This is evident from the ground up. It’s in the way characters talk. You might think ancient peoples would also have a primitive language and culture. But neolithic-era people with magic? Maya nails this. It’s in the way they dress, how they pick their mates, how they relate to other tribes, how they view politics, honor and duty. In a world where magic comes forth from a dance, where pixies, talking bears, and fae abound–Maya uses this magic as the glue to everything: setting, plot and characterization. It is the basis of her world-building and because of the creative and talented way she does it, Initiate comes off as highly original, unique and engrossing.

I’m not exaggerating here. World-building. How To. Tara Maya. Initiate. Read it.

Characterization

My number one surprise with this book is that this book has guy stuffs in it. I could talk at length how fascinating Dindi is, how she comes across as both vulnerable yet puts aside her fears to do what must be done. How she seems like she is fourteen going on eighteen one moment, and fourteen going on twelve the next. Maya pens her as tenacious and doesn’t shy away from giving her a sexuality. Dindi’s great.

My little fantasy heart, however, belongs to Kavio.

Because Kavio kicks ass.

Kavio, actually, is a tragic figure. Maya gives him nobility and youthful idealism as his moral fiber, and tosses him into situations of conflict where it becomes apparent that Kavio greatest enemy is himself. Kavio is a good guy, but he’s also a weapon of mass destruction. He follows the rules when obviously he could, quite simply, make up the rules himself with his magic. He’s like a Jedi Knight being given a ticket by a traffic cop. Press hard, Kavio, you’re making five copies. The cop has a gun and feels superior, but Kavio could turn him inside out, burn his cruiser, go to the station, and have it swallowed whole by a rent in the earth while blood pixies rip out everyone’s eyeballs through their noses making the police station scene in The Terminator look like a scene from a Jane Austin novel.

Instead, he signs.

Did I mention he’s a bad-ass?

As a writer, Kavio fascinates me mightily. I’m beginning to wonder if someone handed Maya an honorary penis because she hones in on the masculine feel of Kavio with laser-like focus. She nails what I call the Tragic Masculine Paradox: when confronted with an attractive young woman coming-of-age, the man of honor is torn with feelings of protectiveness as a father figure yet desires as a lover. You see this in fiction all the time. Rarely do you see it done with such empathy and understatement. Many writers go overboard with this, giving this a tragic (and pervy) element. Maya, however, simply presents it as-is. Kavio has bigger problems than his youthful naïveté.

Dindi’s feminine, innocent beauty, simply highlights Kavio’s main attraction: Dindi is magically powerful. Without going into the rest of the series, he’s slowly falling in love, and love, my friends, is messy. Dindi is more than a girl and then more than a young woman. She’s the catalyst to…

But I digress. Dindi isn’t the only character in a come-of-age journey in Initiate.

Plot

Which leads us to the clever, delicious plotting, and how we come full circle back to our discussion about epic fantasy.

A prevalent, and welcomed trend in speculative fiction is the come-of-age journey set in a fantastic (be it wonderful or dystopian) setting. I am a huge sucker for these types of stories, and in Initiate, Maya plots a literal come-of-age journey as Dindi goes out to become a woman, ready or not (and no, she wasn’t ready).

But epic fantasy has stakes. Big stakes. End-of-the-world (or worse!) type stakes, but unlike much of what is out there today, this book is surprisingly not a coming-of-age novel with an epic plot line to give the character’s punch and excuses to reveal their literary humanity. No, this is a book that provides the foundation for the true story: the battle with the malevolent forces out to crush humanity. It’s not exactly Clan of the Cave Bear meets The Lord of the Rings, but you get the idea.

Dindi is on a personal journey and she yearns to become a magical dancer in the society she was born in. However, if, as a reader, you’re paying attention, you can spot the epic plot that Maya is serving up like drops of water to the thirsty.

And this is where we depart the shackles of traditional publishing. Maya fearlessly has plotted out a twelve book series and each book is building  on that plot in a relentless, epic fashion. Let me be very clear, I am not a big fan of many-book fantasy series. Many of them have problems with continuity, editing, and, quite frankly, sometimes as a reader, I feel I’ve been ripped off around book four because I’m being milked rather than being cleverly entertained.

eBooks, and today’s book market, however, has expanded the types of books we can find and buy, and Maya’s greatest accomplishment as a writer is taking  full advantage of medium. The twelve book format, based on her world-building, is not only daring but also a little slice of epic fantasy goodness, and her skill at characterization draws the reader right into her world.

It’s epic fantasy by our very definition, and it’s yummy. Give me those twelve books. I’ll gladly ready every one of them. If you love a good fantasy series fix, Maya’s your drug dealer, Baby.

More Please

You can tell I’m a fan. Initiate is a wonderful, rich and diverse book and the series thus far is a fantasy reader’s fantasy series. I do have quibbles with it, but they are nits in the larger picture. I’m not a fan of the cover art. I disagree with some of the editorial decisions made and feel Maya’s talent could easily support books of larger word counts, smoothing some of the abruptness of the plot presentation.

Yet these are mere nits because from a storytelling standpoint, it just doesn’t work, it’s a slice of Awesome Toast with Bacon. I tell my non-writer, but reader friends, the Era of the Reader is upon us. Novels like Initiate proves that assertion. If you are a writer, take a step back from all the meta that goes on with writing, look at the bigger picture, and read Initiate. You’ll realize the sum of the book is bigger than its parts, and, at its heart, epic fantasy many readers want to buy, but haven’t really been able to do so.

I give Initiate four bacon strips out of five. And while this is a singular book recommendation, I’ll just drop a teaser that as good as it is, the other books in the series get better.

Here is Chapter 20 in its entirety. Please excuse the grammatical boo-boos and typos, this it it, raw, right out of Suff Blowing Up in Space.

What do you think? Comment below, my 9.3 readers.

***

Chapter 20

“Princess, you are not trained for rescue operations. We’re hot docking to a heavy cruiser that may lose gravity compensation and turn everyone inside into pasty goo. I request you stay on the ship.”

Leiesha stared at James. He was being oh so respectful and oh so proper.

She was going to oh so bite him.

“Captain. That is the flagship of Aoe Sector. Let me be very specific with you. If it goes up, I’m going with it. So if you value my love, and my life, your S&R operation will not fail.”

“Mitty and Kitty won’t leave…”

He shut up.

“My apologies.”

She glared at him. “Damn it, James, stop being so formal. We’re alone in your conference room. It’s just you and me.”

He gave her a little smile and her heart actually started to beat faster. Did the male have to be so good looking?

“I was trying to spare you the horrors of war, Leiesha. When was the last time you saw a dead body?”

She bit her lip.

“You have me there, James. But I have to grow up sometime.”

He paused. “Aye, I just, this bond thing. It makes me want to hold you and shelter you and tell you that everything will be okay and I will fix it.”

She smiled. “You are so romantic.”

She gave him a little kiss.

***

She should have stayed on the Coolidge.

Burt bodies.

Bodies with shrapnel wounds from exploding electronics.

Bodies cut in half by slamming blast doors.

Bodies left like so much litter because the living had better things to do. It was obscene and grotesque.

That’s when she saw Koiea.

She had met Koiea at some Navy function on Aoe Station. The sish was young, and Leiesha had felt a pang of attraction when the young officer marched up to her while everyone else was ignoring the grumpy Princess, and started telling jokes. Leiesha even considered sneaking off with her and making out, but Palace Security had a grip on her lips just as they did on her sex.

Young Koiea was dead. A bar of metal had detached somewhere and impaled her right below her belly, right through her suit. It looked like she died trying to pull it out, hands wrapped around the protrusion.

Koiea’s face painted the tale: she died in pain, from blood loss and alone.

Leiesha opened her faceplate, leaned forward and puked all over the deck.

Mitty and Kitty were right there. One helped her stand straight and the other gave her a .water pouch.

“You’re doing better than I did,” said Mitty. “I puked on body two.”

She rinsed her mouth out feeling monumentally stupid. “What? I thought you came out of the womb wearing armor and spitting hell fire.”

The marine chuckled. “That was Kitty.”

Leiesha could not stop looking at Koiea.

Kitty came up to her. “Ma’am, we need to focus on the living.”

Leiesha gave herself a little shake. She looked at Kitty.

“Let’s go fix this deck’s net and see what’s what,” she said, trying to hold onto something besides the body in front of her.

“Aye, aye, Space Marshal.”

***

No sooner had they plugged in the new net module then Sergeant Koltsov was in the all-channel.

“Listen up, people. We’ve got enough new and repaired nodes to get the missing decks in the battle net. Be lively, the engineers are really busy, and if you asked me how this thing is still under helm control, I really couldn’t say. I guess they got a hamster somewhere and a wheel. Here it comes…”

“Ma’am, watch your inputs, Fleet armor integration is a little different,” said Kitty.

“Thank you, Kitty. You can call me…”

Suddenly her brain was the ship.

***

“Little different, she said,” Leiesha mumbled running down a corridor with her marines in tow. “You think? No, really, a little different?”

“Well, Kitty has been known to be a master of understatement,” said Mitty.

Leiesha snorted as the corridor ended in a closed blast door with red flashing lights over it.

“I don’t know where I end and ship begins,” she said as her armored hands flew over the manual controls, as the automatic ones didn’t respond.

Atmospheric leakage, hull integrity degraded. Magnetic locks engaged. Override required.

“Hey, this door is a better conversationalist than Kitty,” Leiesha quipped.

Mitty snickered.

Leiesha had the override panel open.

“Is this what a battle net feels like in ground combat?” She knew she was babbling but the talking grounded her where she was. It made her feel more real rather than the feeling of being a networked computer node.

“Mostly, minus the oh Goddess we’re going to die, oh Goddess, oh my Goddess,” added Mitty.

The override wheel was difficult to turn. She put a push into it and it started to spin.

“Ma’am, save the telekinetics. Use the power assist in your armor,” said Kitty.

“Right. Sorry, I’ve trained with power armor but never anything so light.” She did as the marine suggested. “I can’t even feel the tube in my butt.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of a bummer,” Kitty said wistfully.

The door came open and wind started whistling past them. The armor was so sensitive, it actually felt like wind on her skin.

“That’s not good,” Leiesha said. “Right? Wind on spaceship bad?”

“Yes. Wind on spaceship bad,” said Mitty.

They were past the blast door and it slammed shut behind them, magnetic locks going clang, clang, clang.

They had a sudden wave of vertigo as they stepped forward. The gravity on this deck was much lighter.

“Just so we’re all on the same page, gravity changes while spaceship is moving also bad,” Mitty added.

“Hurry, they are this way,” said Kitty and they ran down yet another corridor.

Goddess of Space, does the ship have to be this big?

“Whatever you three are doing in that section you better hurry the fuck up, because according the laws of physics it shouldn’t even be there,” said Sergeant Koltsov in her ear.

***

“And to round if off, that’s really bad,” Mitty said.

They were looking at the cabin through a bulkhead, which showed up in her vision as a high-detailed wireframe with structural problems shaded from green to red.

The cabin was yellow with large red cracks over all the surfaces.

Three sish were in the middle of the cabin in slim-suits. They were floating off the floor, arms linked, in a circle facing each other.

“Ma’am, what are they doing?” asked Kitty.

“They’ve, um, this is hard to explain in Common,” Leiesha took a deep breath. “You can say each user of telekinesis operates on a different frequency, unique and not like anyone else’s. If you’re lovers, though, especially with a linked ovulation cycle, you can be in telekinetic harmony.”

She nodded in their direction. “I can feel the push coming from them. They are holding the structural integrity of this hull section intact by meditating and using each other’s strength as an amplifier of their own.”

“Ovulation cycle?” Mitty sounded confused. “I thought sish didn’t have periods.”

“We don’t, but when you really love someone and that person wants to go into heat, sometimes you don’t have a choice and go along with her. Those three are lovers.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet.” Kitty said.

Suddenly the push fluctuated and the entire deck around them groaned.

“Um, Mitty? Gonna remind you that if the structural integrity goes in that section, the intact gravatonics will squish everything inward” said Koltsov over the squad channel.

“Copy that. Death by squish imminent. Sarge, we got ourselves a situation here, we’ll get back to you.”

“Copy that. Shut up and let us think,” he said.

There was another groan and this time Leiesha could feel the deck vibrate.

“So, they’ve been doing that for a long time—almost an entire day-cycle. How long can they keep this up? Can they last until we dock?”

Leiesha bit her lip. “They should have been dead hours ago. We have minutes, maybe less.”

Mitty actually frowned. “Poop on that. Options?”

“I’m leaned towards sheer panic and outright hysteria,” Leiesha said.

“That works for me,” said Kitty.

This time the deck buckled. Her wireframe extended out to the corridor they were in, most of it yellow, and she could feel the deck bend beneath her boots.

Leiesha’s mind whirled. The Goddess of Space spared those three. She would be damned, literally in her mind, if she wasted their efforts. Maybe she could augment their push…

A red crack appeared at the end of the corridor along the wall near the floor.

She had a sudden thought.

“Okay, I have a plan. It is clever and heroic as it is stupid and mostly impossible.”

Mitty nodded, “Hey, you just described life as a Fleet Marine!”

“Awesome,” said Kitty.

Leiesha activated the ship-to-ship channel. “Coolidge, Coolidge, Coolidge, depressurize your aft passenger airlock and open the outer door. We’ll be there shortly. Now here’s the very important part. Don’t open the inner door after we depressurize until Mitty or Kitty gives permission to proceed. Got that? “

“Copy that. Aft passenger airlock depressurizing, door open shortly. Marines give the go for inner door,” said James.

Why does Fleet repeat everything when the armor records it all, she thought, and then told her brain to shut up because they all were about to die.

“What’s the plan?” asked Mitty. She sounded causal, but Leiesha could tell it was an act as the world around them turned a computer generated yellow and red.

Leiesha turned to the short and tasty marine. “There’s going to be a big hole in the bulkhead in front of us and we’ll need to grab those three real fucking fast.” She waved her hands and labeled each sish 1, 2 and 3.

“And then?” Mitty just raised an eyebrow, her face through her helmet a forced blank.

I can appreciate fake calm, thought Leiesha.

“And then I’m going to pull some funky sish shit,” she said, hoping she had rid her voice of all the panic she felt.

“I got 2,” she said.

“I got 1,” said Mitty.

“3,” said Kitty.

Then the deck split in half.

Leiesha pushed and pulled, her telekinetics pouring forth as the ship tried to crush them. She forced a tear right into the bulkhead, which wasn’t too hard since it was breaking apart, defeated by the undamaged portions of the cruiser’s gravity field.

The three sish in the cabin held each other tightly, but they turned as the other three of them skipped and ran over the buckling deck.

RELAX THIS WILL STING A LITTLE came a thought from Mitty, very loud, and right before Leiesha slammed into sish 2, the slim-suited sish turned and looked at her with very wide, hungry eyes.

Wham! All three of the sish were in armored embraces, and the cabin was open to space. The hull seemed to crush in around them.

Leiesha pushed. She pushed outwards in all directions as she had never pushed before.

The hull exploded. It just—exploded—outwards and she screamed with the effort. They were in space, wreckage flying away.

Leiesha reversed her push and latched on with telekinetic tendrils to her two marines. They snapped close to her and she noted dimly the three slim-suits were trailing atmosphere, most likely tears from the exploding composite decking and armor.

Leiesha pushed again and the three of them flew in a tight formation, and she reversed their direction by doing a loop and spinning her body along her long axis.

They flew. They flew back to the cruiser, and then along the hull only meters away from it, faster now. Faster.

“Weeeeee!” shouted Mitty as the hull zipped “underneath” them.

“Goddess in Space! Goddess in Space!” Kitty yelled.

They looped around the entire ship, and there was the Coolidge.

She flew them along the Coolidge’s hull.

Airlock!

Slow down slow down slow down!

They stopped right before all six of them hit the first inner door.

The outer door slammed shut.

“Pressurization!” yelled James.

The three sish were struggling with their suits. Leiesha set her sish on the deck as she clawed at her helmet release.

“Mitty, Kitty, stay suited,” she said in a shaky voice. “This is going to be very ugly. You need to just leave them be while…” she swallowed.

“While what, Space Marshal?” Mitty asked in a command voice.

“While they, um, feed,” she said as she undid the memory seams of her armor.

Leiesha saw that Mitty now understood that the sish were not merely taking off their helmets to get air.

She and Kitty pulled out their stunners.

“No! They can still die! Leave them be. Leave me be. I’m trained for this.”

Leiesha took off her helmet.

“Her” sish crawled to her and jerked at her armor on her leg, peeling it off. She latched onto a calf and bit.

“Ah!” the pain was intense as another ripped at her sleeve and bit her arm. Leiesha started to cry. It hurt. It hurt a lot. The three were indeed in deep need.

The third sish was crying and crawling along the deck.

“Should we help?” Kitty asked, looking very sour.

“No. It… is important for her… to… to … do herself.”

The crawling sish on the deck took a deep breath and slowly stood up.

She was the center, thought Leiesha. So strong.

The sish took faltering steps. She walked behind Leiesha, and with trembling hands, peeled the combat suit away from her upper torso.

Leiesha felt fangs go into her shoulder.

“Oh, oh. Ah,” Leiesha started to pant. It hurt—Goddess did it ever hurt.

“Leiesha! This is terrible. We can’t let them do this to you!” Kitty practically screeched.

“Sorry, my bond… mates. No time… explain. Leave be.”

When do we make them stop, Mitty thought at her. Her telepathy was sharp, almost as if it had an edge.

You don’t. I will do that, she thought back.

She felt the humans’ empathic link as if she was drowning in a sea of their emotions. The marines were sick with worry, the ascension bond causing them mental anguish at her pain. Their suffering was almost too much.

Almost done, my loves. Almost done.

Almost.

Just a little longer.

Let them take a little more…

Only…

“Leiesha!”

As the world faded, Leiesha heard the snap-hiss of stunners, a fist of pain slammed into her, and she thankfully felt no more.

Here at the R.H.W. Blog, we target book reviews to people who write novels. There are many other book reviews on Across the Universe out there tailored for readers.

Across the Universe by Beth Revis is a contemporary young adult science fiction book of monumental science fiction YA goodness. There is a particular fondness for YA sci-fi on this blog, as the 9.3 blog readers will attest. Before we get into Across the Universe, let’s talk about that topic specifically: YA science fiction. We need to go there to come to grips on why Beth Revis has awesomesauce for blood.

Dystopian Settings in YA Science Fiction

YA science fiction has historical roots in dystopian settings. What industry labels as simply “dystopian” really used to be thought of, by readers, as “science fiction”, if they thought about the genre label at all.

Enter vampires, urban fantasy, contemporary and paranormal (although vamp fic is a paranormal offshoot). You could say these killed off classic science fiction under the guise of character-driven stories marketed (successfully) to girls, and science fiction stories along “classic” lines was not meeting the needs of a new vastly expanded audience.

We could say that… and it’s BS. Science fiction is alive and well, simply nudged into a little dystopian niche that is selling like chocolate in an all-girl high school student store. There are only so many books and book publishers to go around, in the traditional sense. What sells, sells. That “classic” science fiction for young adults fell by the wayside wasn’t elitism, but it wasn’t the fault of science fiction itself. It was capitalism.

This is only brought up because as novelists, we need to practice the art of eye-rolling. Take for example the following conversation:

“Science fiction as a market for youth is dead.”

“What? What about The Hunger Games? Uglies? Unwind? Or…”

“That’s dystopian fiction.”

(rolls eyes)

“Don’t roll your eyes at me! It’s true. Simply placing a book into the future doesn’t make it science fiction…”

(rolls eyes)

“Maybe classic science fiction for youth is dead…”

“You mean, maybe classic science fiction for youth is underutilized and underrepresented?“

This was an actual conversation, by the way. No names are given to protect the guilty.

Why digress to talk about the current YA book market in speculative fiction? Because the current market has its roots in the older market. And there were some amazing young adult science fiction books in dystopian settings.

Enter John Christopher

The king of dsytopian settings is John Christopher. His legendary Tripod trilogy was a chilling tale of alien conquest and subversion, where as a teen, your own parents turn against you because they have been “capped”. It’s a mind-control device turning people into hypnotic slaves for unseen alien masters.

Christopher nailed all the dystopian YA elements, and one could say, defined them. There is one complete and utterly horrific subplot, where the unseen aliens (in the first book) take the prettiest young girls to “the masters” city once winning a beauty contest, and these girls are never seen again.

Once the truth is known what happens to these girls, oh my. There’s nothing explicit about it. It’s just evil. Pure, understated, evil, and from a literary standpoint, so very delicious.

We’ll come back to John in a moment.

What Makes Dystopian YA So Delicious

There no mystery why dystopian fiction provides a fertile ground for young adult novels. It’s delicious because the setting is great for the come-of-age story. As teens and adults, we yearn for places to put context to growing up, and nothing says “grow up!” like oppression and tyranny, especially in the future.  In dystopia, everything is about the removal of choice. And nothing makes a greater young adult story than a teen trying to make choices where it seems like there is none. It often is a choice of defining oneself correctly, or dying.

So much goodness.

Enter Across the Universe. Across the Universe nails the dsytopian feelings of oppression and tyranny, and as a dystopian novel it just doesn’t work, it sparkles brightly (sparkles like stars, heeee). The setting, particularity for Amy, the main character, goes from a disturbing familiarity to an assault on everything it means to be a teen girl growing up. Like Christopher, Revis serves up the terrible with glee, and like Christopher, it is both hauntingly subtle yet at times overpowering and overt.

The Value of Choice in Across the Universe

Unlike Christopher, Revis parties in the gray areas of choice and consequences. She parties hard. Right at the beginning of the book, Amy must make a choice and ho-boy (ho-boy being a technical term), is it a doozy. When she “wakes up”, the novel is a quest for the truth. A mystery presents itself and it spirals out of control as she and Elder (a teen boy training to become a leader) come to grips with the awesome evilness of a society built on lies.

And here is where we depart our dystopian study, and how Across the Universe plays in the genre, because the book is so much more.

Ho-boy is it ever.

What is Classic Science Fiction, Anyway?

Let’s not be coy. There are certain elements of science fiction that can be called “classic” and applied to books aimed at young adults, such as Rite of Passage by Alexei Panshin and to a larger extent, Cities in Flight by James Blish. I could go on and on but those are “classics” and not “dystopian” (although in Rite of Passage the main setting is not perfect by any means).

Science fiction, in essence, is more than a look in the future and the use of some thing that, if it didn’t exist, the story would come apart.

Classic science fiction holds elements of what I call The Want. The want to know. The need to know. The yearn to understand. Star Trek was up front about this: this is a story of people who want to know more.

There’s a Star Trek: The Next Generation episode where the Enterprise is on a mission. On the way, they find a curious hole in space and wonder what it is. The plot is summed up like this:

“Hey, there’s this funny hole in space.”

“Not really relevent to the current mission.”

“Let’s look at it anyway. It’s kinda cool.”

“Okay.”

(soon afterwards)

“Whoops.”

That right there is classic science fiction.

Across the Universe is Classic Science Fiction

Beth Revis nails this. She sticks the yearn to know, the itch to understand, in a 10-point landing. The story takes place on a colony ship, the Godspeed, and what a brilliant story it is. There are problems with the Godspeed. Deep problems. People problems. Technology problems. Problems with simply being in space.

The colony ship is a familiar troupe, and as a science fiction setting it works: a big ship in space going from point A to point B.

Setting, though, is only a small part of it. Science fiction authors should pay close attention to the underlying thematic in this book. Revis goes so far as to place Amy, a runner, in a place where she can run, but soon she realizes there is nowhere to run to. She just isn’t metaphorically trapped by her youth and inexperience, she’s trapped by the cold, hard, reality of space. There is nothing for Amy. Labeled as “nonessential” and alone from anything familiar (including safety), she turns to the search for truth, not simply as a means for survival, but because that’s all she has left.

And oh, Ender, the boy born on the ship. How he yearns. He yearns both for knowledge and the right to know knowledge. He yearns for the stars. He also yearns for the truth.

Indeed, at one point, someone in the novel dies for the yearning. It drives him crazy because he literally is designed to know and question, but because of the dystopian society he lives in commits the cultural equivalent of the  Russian Winter Mistake, his creative intellect never goes anywhere. It drives him to the edge of disrepair and beyond.

So Brutal. So full of storytelling goodness.

So classic.

And Finally, Character Driven vs. Plot Driven Elements in Across the Universe

Is Across the Universe a character driven novel mercilessly targeted to teen girls, because, you know, boys don’t read and that’s what sells to girls?

Do it with me folks:

(eye-roll)

No. It is not, and a novelist wanting to write a page-turner targeted to teens should pay close attention. Revis drives the central elements of the novel by events that are both based on character motivations and actions, but also plot elements that interject themselves into the story in which Amy and Elder have to react.

That is, of course, life, and especially a poignant way of looking at the process of growing up. If a writer takes anything from Across the Universe, study how Revis does this, because she pulled it off like this was her tenth published novel, not her first.

Final Thoughts

So here we are. We have a brilliant come-of-age story in a dystopian setting with classical science fiction themes delivered by the yin-yang dance of characterization and plotting. How wonderful Across the Universe is!

While I am loath to even type the word “I” in a book review (witness the thousands of book reviews where the “reviewer” simply talks about themselves), I need to confess I had a dream about Across the Universe the night I finished reading it. I can’t even remember the last time I did that. To say the book sticks with you after you finish it would be an understatement.

Now that I have read the book, I don’t particularly like either the cover or the title. While the starry background makes sense given the way some of the characters feel about stars, both the title and cover art do not convey the wonderful, yummy mystery hidden inside. That’s just me. It’s also me that I didn’t like one of the intense scenes where I felt a different outcome would have made Amy more of a young woman many girls yearn to be.

Of course, the book was expertly written with a distinctive voice even when the viewpoints flipped back and forth between Amy and Elder. Readers will appreciate the subtle foreshadowing and the mystery-in-a-mystery plotting. Readers will also appreciate masterful world-building that never bores you, only teases you and makes you thirsty for more. All these things are the hallmarks of an excellent novel, and as a debut it was a stunning and thrilling page turner. On the Rehabilitated Hack Writer Scale of Book Goodness, I give it four slices of bacon out of five, and it is literally a genre defining book in the Young Adult market segment.

For anyone new popping up on the scene, I target my book reviews towards novelists (you can find my prior reviews here).

DarkShip Thieves by Sarah A. Hoyt was my holiday me me me book, but it turned into much more than that. For the novelist interested in speculative fiction, DarkShip Thieves is a course of science fiction om nom nom nom with a major serving of romp and romance.

Here’s the book blurb:

Athena Hera Sinistra never wanted to go to space. Never wanted see the eerie glow of the Powerpods. Never wanted to visit Circum Terra. Never had any interest in finding out the truth about the DarkShips. You always get what you don’t ask for. Which must have been why she woke up in the dark of shipnight, within the greater night of space in her father’s space cruiser, knowing that there was a stranger in her room. In a short time, after taking out the stranger—who turned out to be one of her father’s bodyguards up to no good, she was hurtling away from the ship in a lifeboat to get help. But what she got instead would be the adventure of a lifetime—if she managed to survive . . . .

You can always count on the publisher, Baen, to deliver some classic sci-fi with a bit of the libertarian thematic, but DarkShip Thieves is a not-so-subtle homage to Robert Heinlein, and that is one reason it is worthy of study. Once a reader gets into that, the book comes into its own in a major, major way, and how Hoyt does this is a bit of the ‘ole awesomesauce.

Essentially it goes like this: any Heinlein fan is going to read this book and start grinning like a dork about a quarter of a way through it. Halfway through the book the little science fiction libertarian in you will go “this is soooooo good,” but then, like the dogs of war unleashed, the novel takes off on its own and doesn’t end until the reader is breathless.

And Hoyt does this with an exploration of love and honesty, two great libertarian themes so worthy of needing exploration in science fiction.

Heinlein was the master of the libertarian thematic but he also dabbled on the edges of libertarianism beyond the personal affirmation and the economic delivery from tyranny. The core of libertarian philosophy centers around peaceful interactions between people in a “trust, but verify” relationship. A person has to believe in the overall good of mankind, yet expect the odd duck to cause problems and thus plan accordingly.

Thena finds herself as the obligatory fish-out-of-water in a libertarian society after being rescued by Kit, a genetically modified pilot who makes a living stealing power from the terrans. Kit brings her to Eden, a large asteroid with refugees from a nasty war back on Earth. Eden is, for the most part, an anarcho-capitalism society.

Oh, but Kit. Kit is so nakedly honest, so honorable (not to mention a bit of a studmuffin), Thena falls in love with him. She falls hard. She’s a product of a declining civilization, a civilization kept together through understated oppression and slight of hand. When encountering pure goodness, it drives her a little crazy, and she is drawn to Kit not so much because he can get inside her head (literally) but because Kit is simply Kit and no one else. Hoyt brings out the craziness in Thena as she realizes the core of her beliefs are a lie, and then, like a master novelist, Hoyt dials it up to eleven when Thena finds out her life has been a lie.

Thena, my fellow writers, kicks-ass throughout the entire novel despite all of the setbacks a cruel universe throws at her. And yet, when faced with the prospect of losing the first real taste of love she has ever known, she goes on an unholy libertarian rampage that is both epic and intensely personal at the same time.

I could prattle on and on about how DarkShip Thieves is a marvelous science fiction book in a classical sense, with wonderful uses of technology and some truly clever settings. At its heart, however, it is a romantic love story wrapped up in a personal coming-of-age yarn about good triumphing over evil.

For a novelist in any type of speculative fiction, I give the novel five slices of bacon up out of five.

Here I insert my standard disclaimer: I target my book reviews to novelists.

Also, if you would like to win a FREE copy of The Pericles Commission, comment on this post. I will select a commenter at random and mail you the copy. You need only to have a valid postal address somewhere in the world. The contest ends December 13 at noon, Pacific Time.

The Pericles Commission is a wonderful debut novel by researcher and writer Gary Corby. A murder mystery set in ancient Greece, the novel is also a political thriller, a coming-of-age-story and a cultural study all in one tight, little, whirlwind package of historical mystery goodness.

And Corby pulls it off masterfully.

Thus, I give you a disclaimer. If you are a novelist who likes to write murder mysteries (as I do), this book will make your head spin. Corby’s artistic creativity at putting a mystery together has the capability of frying your poor writer brain if you attempt to deconstruct the novel beyond its entertainment value.

The plot goes like this:

Early one bright, clear morning in Athens, 461 B.C., a dead man falls from the sky, landing at the feet of Nicolaos.

It doesn’t normally rain corpses. This one is the politician Ephialtes, who only days before had turned Athens into a democracy, and with it, kick-started western civilization. It looks very much as if Ephialtes was assassinated to stifle the world’s first democracy at its birth.

But Ephialtes has a lieutenant: a rising young politician by the name of Pericles. Pericles commissions the clever young Nicolaos to expose the assassin.

Nicolaos walks the mean streets of classical Athens in search of a killer. He’s totally confident he’ll succeed in finding him.

There are only a few small problems. Pericles is looking over his shoulder, critiquing his every move. Nicolaos would like to get closer (much closer) to Diotima, the intelligent and annoyingly virgin priestess of Artemis. He’d prefer not to go near Pythax, the brutally tough chief of the city guard. It would definitely help if the main suspect weren’t Xanthippus, a leading conservative and, worst of all, the father of Pericles.

But most of all, what Nicolaos really needs is to shake off his irritating twelve-year-old brother, Socrates, who keeps making helpful suggestions.

Can Nicolaos save Athens, democracy, and the future of western civilization?

Oh, how I loved Nicolaos, and Corby’s voicing with his main character leaves a reader not so much seeing the wonders of ancient Greece through his eyes, but living it in a visceral, immersive escapism that I had not experienced in a murder mystery since Vernor Vinge’s Marooned in Realtime.

There is a certain purity in murder mysteries. There’s a dead body. Sometimes more. The stakes are high, and beyond the expert voicing and characterization, the gem of The Pericles Commission is its sheer relentlessness.  For this novel is relentless in the stakes. Corby ratchets them up again and again and again until a reader is left almost panting with tension, reading furiously as nothing so much as the fate of humanity is on the line.

This novel happily dances around thriller territory and simply calling it a historical murder mystery is an understatement.  If you are a writer, don’t let the fabulous research blind you, or the mesmerizing voicing nor the purity of how the setting comes alive. Never has a historical book been so much fun to read. It was intelligent escapism at its highest form, and that, dear writers, was simply awesome. The Pericles Commission is not so much a novel as it is crack for mystery lovers.

Don’t forget to comment below to win a chance at a free copy!

Perfect for the little ADD Monster inside all of us.

This is an exciting re-engineering contract. I get to plumb the depths of the undocumented and air our all the deficiencies.

So, what does that have to do with writing or reading?

Nothing! Ha! But I am behind in my blog list of things to do (as you can see by the lack of updates). This always happens when I switch contracts. I need to find my rhythm. I am almost there.

I have been thinking a lot lately about the artistic expression of the battle between Good vs. Evil. Then I watched this movie:

The Indy movie Ink is gathering hype, as it should. The pacing is masterful, right from the slow beginning to the crescendo of the ending. The extraordinary clever writing. The understated special effects.

But, dear 9.3 blog readers, this is, at the core, a story of Good vs. Evil in the most basic sense to its most insidious. It encompasses every major Good vs. Evil thematic you could possibly imagine wrapped up in a glorious narrative rapture, from the overt to the slices of gray so thin you can see through them.

I don’t normally review movies, but I will review Ink after I post my next book review.

Bottom line: If you have a Good vs. Evil theme in your writing, don’t even talk to me until you’ve seen this movie.

Disclaimer 1: This is a book review for novelists. There are many other reviews about Cinders, this one is for those who like to write books.

Disclaimer 2: I placed 3^rd in one of Michelle’s short story contests in a blind judging. Please don’t think I’m doing a bit of quid pro quo, because I can assure you I am a vicious reader.

I always thought Cinderella was a bit of a whore.

You can’t blame Disney’s Cinderella for being a whore. The girl’s stepmother and sisters abused her, making her life a living misery. Going back to the classic tale, we can all put ourselves in her shoes (get it—put ourselves in her shoes? Oh, I am so clever!), and who can resist the charm of the Prince searching for the girl who enticed him and then taking her away to live happily ever after?

The classical definition of a whore is somebody who does things for selfish reasons. Add a bit of the magically seduced prince, and there you have it.

Thus, it was with trepidation that I started reading Cinders, attracted to the book because I love novellas and I thought the cover was smashing. It was supposed to be a coming-of-age-story with a bunch of girly girl mixed with whimsy. I was even expecting talking animals.

Goodness was I mistaken.

Cinders by Michelle Davidson Argyle is a literary wonder with perfect, sparse prose obscuring a multi-layered depth that is haunting as it is breathless. When I finished the book, I just sat there in my chair outside staring at the trees in the sun. Cinders captivated, disturbed, infatuated, crushed, bewildered and beguiled me.

It’s difficult to know where to begin on an in-depth review with something so overwhelming complex born of simplicity, but there is the obvious. The prose.

Argyle’s delicious, sensual, twilight and shadow prose.

Here is one example:

“Not yet. Let me sing you a song.” He sat with her near a bush with white flowers, the same ones in her hair, and as he sang, the smell of clover grew stronger. He helped her lie down. Petals fell from his hair when his lips brushed hers. She closed her eyes and saw Isaac bruising Rose’s horse, his arm moving up and down, the cat licking her paws.

See, I’m a red-blooded American Male. I like my steak waved in a warm room, apple pie and watch movies where stuff blows up in space. A productive evening for me is when I’ve managed to clean all the guns without running out of CLP.

Yet, that excerpt right there made my heart go pitter-pat. I read that and I was breathless, the feeling you get when you look at a girl for the first time and realize you’re crushing hard.

For the writer, Cinders is a decent into the visceral, as that example shows.  It’s not a la la la literary going to describe a flower in twelve metaphors visceral, but a dark, sensual, haunting flowing river of words that sits at the bottom of your gut like a fiery Cognac. Argyle’s prose is sparse, her mastery with such few words speaks to a deep, creative talent, and she uses her creativity to breathe life into the lifeless.

In Disney’s adaptation, Cinderella is a story about a girl becoming a woman in order to escape her awful life while snagging the man of her dreams in the process through magic and rodent Tom Foolery.

“Cute talking animals” is code for “this is a child’s story for entertainment” and as such that’s what Cinderella, the character, was.

Argyle’s characterization is so fascinating and her Cinderella is a compelling, complex figure different from the original literary tale before it. It is impressive how Argyle turns a vapid fairytale shell into a young woman, but Cinderella here is a wonderful, flawed person yearning to make her own choices.

And make them she does. I was rooting for Cinderella through the entire book because her yearning selfishness, even though justified, was tragic to behold.  Even at her worst mistakes, at least she made them. Choice. Has there ever been such a literary theme worthy of published words?

But I digress.

How I loved that seductive, lethal yet empathetic Cinderella. What, you say? Cinderella? Lethal? Seductive?

Oh, yes. That and more. Cinderella makes mistakes, and people die. Cinders, my friends, is a book with an impressive body count, like any good fairytale. Despite the darkness that Argyle serves up as pebbles falling into a still lake, the book isn’t about death, but about life: living, learning, and loving.

She also loves, oh how Cinderella loves. Her love is consuming and fearful; she loves with her mind and her body, and her passions and desires elevate her from her magical prison of her own making while driving her to the cliff of despair. Argyle pulls this off with mastery for the complex wrapped around the simple.

Cinders is a love story, but it’s also a coming-of-age-story, and the truly amazing part of this novella is the themes and plot intertwines to the point where it’s difficult to tell the difference between the two. It’s also a raw story with under-the-radar world building, a world that comes alive in the fewest words possible. The setting is so vivid, it mesmerizes the reader who turns page after page and all too soon, the end of the book comes like a punch in the gut.

The ending is a study in perfection, a true “didn’t see it coming, but should have,” moment of pure bittersweet. That’s the summation for the writer: Cinders is a study in perfection. The perfect cover. The perfect tagline. Even the bookmark is perfect. The perfect story. Perfect prose. The perfect novella. It’s magical. You could stick this novella in a time capsule, move it forward two hundred years, and for the lucky reader who dug it up, she would say “oh!” and yearn for more.

Argyle banished Disney’s whore from my mind. It was as if she never existed, and in her place is a woman of empathy and beauty, a mixture of danger tempered with love.

Perfect.

The girl in front of him was Momma’s worst nightmare.

It was Valentine’s Day in Southwest Washington. That meant the cold, ever-present rain.  The fireplace was going at it with the snap and crackle to remind everyone that it was there, the sleeping dog next to it, trying to will herself closer in warm doggie dreams.

The Merlot bottle stood half-empty, sitting on the table next to the photo album. They had been giggling over the photos for quite some time.

She had disappeared while he was fetching cheese and pouring the rest of the wine, but now she was back, wearing her dancing heels and the red dress she loved to wear salsa dancing, the one with the slit that went to the ceiling. She put on slow jazz, the singer with her sensual tale of love and longing in French, all sexy and warm.

He stood and put a hand around her waist, and one across her back. One of her hands came up behind him and she ran fingers through his hair. She swayed into the music, swayed into him, and her lips came up to his ear. She smelled of grapes and flowers, but also that dangerous woman scent that she loved to use like a weapon.

“Dance right into me,” she whispered. “Dance into me.”

Momma was wrong. The girls that knew how to say the perfect things at the perfect time were the ones that needed watching.

It was their eighteenth wedding anniversary.

“Dance right into me,” she said again, and sighed when he kissed her.

First off, that kid is wicked smart. Takes after his mom.

We were talking about (get this) urban fantasy or to mix genres, paranormal urban fantasy.

He asked me “are there any urban fantasy books for guys, besides the guy who wrote Monster Hunter International?”

MHI is one of his favorite books.

My brain struggled. Was there? Non-dystopian?

I told him that urban fantasy was very popular with women, so much so that if there was something out there that had universal appeal, I didn’t know about it. It got lost in the noise.

“That sucks,” he said.

Yes, Thing One. It does suck. But hey, look at this from Larry Correia:

Yeah, Thing One and me we’ll be all over that one. Have you ever seen such a pulp-goodness hint of steam punk noir cover? I sure haven’t.

It’s official, author Larry Correia is kicking ass.

We read in science fiction stories all the time about the “adaptability of humans” or some other superior concept such as individualism, the triumph of the individual over the collective might of the pesky aliens (or even groups of humans).

What makes the Predator movies so fascinating is humans consider themselves predators, and the movies flip that on its end. Especially the first movie.

Humans are not predators of predators from a pure evolutionary standpoint. Humans need other humans to survive. They are socially adaptive.

The sish, the dominate species in the galaxy for Stuff Blowing Up in Space, form complex social groups to assert dominance to avoid food competition, not because they need to get together and fertilize eggs. They are loners and individuals much more so than humans are. They come with a slew of natural weaponry. What they cannot overpower they seduce with biological seduction weapons. What they cannot biologically seduce they can out think. Evolution can take many paths, the path for fight leads to brains that process information quickly. It’s not just a basic response, either. To a sish, exploration and advancement ties directly to food, and food is sex. Stepping foot on a new planet isn’t just fun, it’s foreplay.

Thus the adaptive, individual race is not humans. It’s sish. On the same evolutionary scale, they achieved FTL faster than others, they found more habitual planets and they are very effective diplomats, seeing war and conflict as the elimination of the food supply.

The human advantage over sish is a cultural one, one that leads to greater technological progress.

That’s a different entry, however.

Below are two sish, talking amongst themselves.  They are also vying for dominance and possible sex-play. Not to toot my horn too obnoxiously, but while this banter moves the plot forward, setting the stage for some juicy conflict, it’s also jam-packed with world-building without obnoxiously beating the reader over the head with it, as I have done with the text above.

If anybody who knew anything about military space vessels were paying attention, they would have immediately known something was odd about Task Group Inaeo’s two cruisers and their orbital positions.

Nobody was paying attention, because the last of Task Group Aoe’s space assets had crossed the FTL safety line and disappeared. If someone had been looking, they would have noticed the two cruisers covered a wide swath of the planet, rather than a wide swath of the space before the planet.

The two captains were in their respective private cabins, they had just finished watching what video there was of the human in train car.

Such video was ironic. They only had it because one of the sish in the car had an expensive recorder from the Terran sector, and it was EMP shielded. Who would have thought of such a thing?

“Quite an extraordinary play of events, don’t you think?” said the first captain.

“Indeed. A violent fellow, and the glimpse of the huntress was remarkable,” said the second. “A powerful, powerful telekinetic.”

“The Princess gets kidnapped, now this. Fleet has stepped in it for sure.”

“I am not so sure, Sister. He did say he was a contractor. Witnesses said he was an ‘Ambassador.’ Such people could be contractors, hired by Fleet at whim. Fleet is the only governance for the United Planets of Terra; they tend to hire civilians to deal with other civilians.”

The other sish captain nodded. “In any event, how convenient, do you think, that all of Aoe’s space assets are currently absent from the system.”

“A shame, really.”

“Scandalous, even.”

“Too bad we are forbidden from initiating any contact of the more, ah, free-enterprise elements that grace the pretty planet below us.”

Both cruiser captains were knee-deep  in the last system conversion to the human’s hyper-capitalism, becoming quite wealthy in the process.

Both hated, to their core, the matriarchal system of governance, an anachronism they could appreciate but recognized as one of the biggest disadvantages of dealing with the over-productive humans.

They had seen the endless human fleets. The Navy knew what was going on, even if the system governments did not.

“Yes, our orders were quite clear. Here we sit, unable to open communications.”

“Yes, orders are orders; one could even say they or superiors designed them for the maximum amount of ass-coverage. In case something goes wrong.”

“Funny how we two are the types to always think of what the right thing is to do despite the consequences.”

“Indeed. Very Fleet-like of us, don’t you think?”

“Indeed. What is that Terran saying? Keep your friends close, your enemies closer?”

“I always liked, speak softly and carry a big gun.”

Each suppressed a giggle and sighed.

“La la la, la la la,” said the first captain.

“Dee dee dee, dee dee dee,” said the second captain.

The first captain took out a hairbrush and started in on her ever-hated helmet hair.

The second captain started painting her nails a nice shade of green.

Bleep bleep, went the comm chime in one cabin.

Bleep bleep, went the comm in the second.

Both sish smiled, fangs already extended.

A female-only species similar in appearance to humans, the sish reproduce by drinking the blood of a male carnivore when they ovulate. They are sexual predators in the biological sense, that is, they entice their prey with pheromones and simple seduction. They are biologically advanced, physically and mentally, and are even more genetically diverse than humans because of the DNA sequencing used to fertilize their eggs.

While sish are omnivores, their sexual response is tied not only to each other, but also to feeding, making other intelligent species their prime source of live blood and amusement. For the loss of some blood, other species in return receive mind-blowing sex. Sometimes, however, a sish will feed until her source of food dies, either on purpose or by accident, making travel in sish space both pleasurable and dangerous.

Sex dominance is always an issue with sish. Lovers always have a dominant/submissive pairing, and the social structures they form are more advanced than humans, but not necessarily more productive.

Sish seduction biology can create symbiants out of females from other species, exchanging blood for sexual pleasure on a regular basis instead of the infamous sish one-night-stand. Such bonding is rare, but as humans and sish mingle, the number of symbiants has increased steadily over time.

To sish, live food is sex, the more intelligent the live food the sexier it is. Sex is also power, and while the sish consider themselves biologically superior to other species, culturally it could be argued some of their core planets are stagnant, as this excerpt shows.

Princess Oneesha, heir to the throne of Jephinae, could not believe what she was hearing from the Queen.

Oneesha had been crying. Crying for her sister. Crying because she was hungry. Crying because she needed sex. Crying in frustration. Now she was crying in anger as the Queen assailed her ears, angry because Oneesha would not answer her summons and that the Queen had to come to the Princess’s bedchamber.

What the Queen had to say shocked her, all the worse because she almost said yes. Now, Oneesha was angry with herself more than the Queen. “Mother, I cannot partake in the ceremony now! It is out of the question! Crazy humans have kidnapped my little sister! How could you think of such a thing?”

Her mother backhanded her. Hard. She fell to the ground, spots in her vision. The Queen was a very strong sish, and her face throbbed as if it was on fire.

“Do not prattle on with your insolence! You don’t understand the tenuous hold we have, we need to bond the power-players to you or there may not be another ascension ceremony! Ever!”

From the ground, Oneesha stared at her mother. That’s when she knew.

“You’re pregnant,” she blurted out.

The Queen flinched back as if she received a punched in the gut.

“That is no concern of yours, daughter,” she said dismissively.

Oneesha stood up. “It’s true! You were starving her! My sister snapped because she has chaste sickness. It doesn’t matter that I’m older; she was always stronger than I was, more developed. Yet you went ahead and arranged my ascension knowing she was dying! You decided since you were pregnant, you didn’t need her around anymore. That having her die of chaste would make people fear you!”

“People do fear me, as you should.” The Queen advanced.

Oneesha drew her ceremonial dirk and pressed the button on the hilt. Dark fire ran up and down the blade, the deadly hum of its vibro-blade filled her bedchamber.

The Queen stopped, eyes narrowing. “I can take that blade from you, child. Do not be stupid.”

“Lay hands on me again and I will cut that daughter out of you and feed her to the servants.”

The Queen stared.

“So it’s come to this? Treason?”

Oneesha burst out laughing and turned the blade off, sheathing it. “It’s only treason if you admit your weakness to Palace Security. Then what? You’d have no daughters except the one in your belly. Your hold on the nobles would come crashing down sooner rather than later.”

She turned and walked from the room.

“Where are you going? Come back here!” the Queen shrieked out.

Oneesha turned and looked over her shoulder.

“I’m going to find my little sister,” she lied, the first lie she had ever told the Queen.

“Good bye, Mother,” she said, walking away.

Running Amok is a technical term, by the way.

But I digress.

My Sassy and Feminine friend Cassie Hart from New Zealand recently pointed out good writing for me comes from a challenge.  So my next target for my love of writing was Dragonsong. The characters and plot speak to me, almost like a call. It will be difficult to pull it together in 100k words, too.

One of my rules of writing, fantasy writing, is that the setting must have a voice. It’s not enough to have a heroic fantasy, character-driven plot. I have very high fantasy standards as a reader. I need to be there. I need to feel it deep in my bones. I need to see it and smell it. It’s visceral or it’s nothing.

I got to chapter three of Dragonsong, and realized the setting isn’t speaking to me. I have a very specific vision for it. I’m not going to hash out the book and then in draft two spruce up the setting, either. The setting is a character, she has a voice or I murder her for one that does. It’s my First Rule of Fantasy Writing.

Unfortunately, nothing repair-wise is nibbling on my little brain, so I’m setting it aside. This novel is better than I am, so I’m going to let it fester.

Thus, I’m living large on The Baby Dancers. That YA setting speaks to me. Yes it does. Maybe she can tell me a few things. Teach me.

That and I’m at the point where I just have to know how the story ends. It’s driving me crazy.

Thank you all who suggested I pick the novel back up because the plot sounded compelling. Because I believe, you’re right.

Goblin Ninjas. On fire.

<giggle>

If you don't see this when I'm writing, I have failed.

Today, I talk about elements of style, horror, and science fiction.

I finished my work in progress in the wee hours of the morning, The Wælcyries Murders.

What a fun novel!

The novel, according to conventional wisdom, should not be—it’s a sequel to a book I haven’t sold yet, which, according to some, isn’t a good idea.

Like much of the advice written on the Interwebs, a person has to be very careful not only consider the source, but also the context.

One reason it’s not a good idea is that your first book may never sell. Your agent or editor may also suggest changes to the first novel that render the second one invalid. Thus you’ve wasted your time.

Or have you?

I learned so much writing this novel. It took me six months to write. What did I learn in six months?

• I learned that there are tricks and techniques to writing your first novel so the second novel in the series gels and flows with the first
• I leaned about advanced characterization beyond a self-contained novel
• I learned how to write a sequel
• I learned new things about world-building and continuity
• I learned that even well respected writers and industry can over-generalize

Out of all of these points, the most valuable to me is the characterization I learned. What’s my main character’s motive, beyond solving the mystery? How does she grow? Where do the other characters fit?

This is my fourth novel I have written; with the caveat the first novel was a pure writing exercise with no basis in publishing reality. So, it’s more novel number three. I will repeat this to myself until it is true. Heh.

The first book in the series could never sell.

I can guarantee that if I do sell a book, and my publisher asks for a sequel, the process of producing that creative work will be much better. I learn by thinking about things and doing in an iterative process.

Next post I talk about the wok itself and the other things I learned.

Today I talk about women, books and voice.

Actually, I take that back. Part of the reason I can write a three-dimensional female character is because I have done research pertaining to women in lawn enforcement, and I’ve met female police officers while on duty while doing this research.

Research is vital. It is not enough to look into the heart of a female character and try to bring that to the page. The setting and plot details need a basis in reality. Lee Lofland writes to this in his latest, “Female Police Officers: Are They Really Wimpy, Or Do You Just Write Them That Way?” This article really resonates with me, because Lee often gives great tips around certain themes, themes that appear in his blog over and over again. Essentially, what he tells his blogs readers is to write life as it is, rather than life as you think it is.

Sound familiar? It should. Rachelle said the same thing:

“I get the feeling many people are so saturated with media (books, TV, movies) that they are writing not from life but from their perception of life as shown in media. They’re writing stories I’ve seen and heard a hundred times before.”

Rachelle Gardner, Literary Agent: Fiction Writing: Craft and Story

Back to Lexus (because, this post is all about me, me, me, me), Lexus is a flawed individual. You can make a compelling argument that she is mired in psychosis. She certainly suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, and obsessive-compulsive behavior. She has an addiction-prone personality.

These are flaws.

Lexus is also an emotional creature. She has a deep sympathy for people with problems and a strong intolerance for injustice. She takes injustice personally. She approaches problems with logic, but does not have tight reigns on her empathy. She feels. She feels a lot. As a woman, she has feminine emotions.

This is not a flaw. That is part of her strength. Too often, I read characters where the author went out of her way to make sure I, as a reader, understood the character was not flawed because she had boobs and lacked a penis. Yet the character is still a cliché; essentially she is an immature girl compensating for being female.

There is strength in femininity, just as there is strength in masculinity. I can write the strong female main character because I play on my strengths: observation and research. Sometimes I write the obvious in a way that is appealing to women simply because I’m an outsider and am providing a fresh, outsider voice.

Or something like that. I don’t fully understand it. I’m certainly not blazing new territory. My running theory: women are powerful creatures. As technology progresses and makes physical strength not even worthy of a secondary characteristic, the era of the woman may be upon us.

Here’s the deal. My Blog Harem keeps my little blog going with hits. Nevertheless, what really drives traffic, and I mean traffic, are posts about guns. Merely linking to a website about guns does something to my occasional readers of my blog. They love that topic. They love that topic more than my writing!

Waaaaaa!

But, when the going gets tough, the tough slut out their blogs. So today’s post is about GUNS. Guns of the future! Ladies and Gentleman, I give you guns of the Lexus Toulouse books, set in the Federation, Earth’s three species society of the future, set in the Year 21.

Needler
An Investigator-only weapon, the recoilless needler shoots an aerodynamic needle anywhere between 800 and 6,000 feet per second. The needle is a collection of nano bots that pierce armor or cover, and deform on flesh, biotech or cyber-gear.

When an Investigator pulls the trigger, the needler instantly programs the nano-needle and computes the relative velocity of the needle based on the armor and movement of the target.

It is a deadly and accurate weapon, the apex of Federation pistol technology. There are no recorded instances of a person or robot surviving a needle round.

Says Investigator Scott:

Scott nods his head in appreciation at my skill. “I went to Fort Lewis, mainly so they could all give me a ribbing about retiring from OCE, and used their force-on-force range,” he says.

I smile. I can picture Scott showing up and being obnoxious while taking a good amount of ribbing.

“They have this simulation where these three bots are in an armored tank. A fucking tank, one of the pre-war non-composite models. Like, a real God damn tank. And I nail all three of them. I simply shot them through the armor. The needles sliced through the armor and then deformed on the bots, blowing them to Hell and gone. Through a fucking tank!”

Charge Pistol
The five-inch barreled Charge Pistol is the precursor to the needler. Essentially, it is a near- recoilless miniature scram-rail.

Charge pistols get their name from the 9mm bullets feed into the scram-rail by the magazine, and the magazine itself. Each bullet contains an energy lattice that deforms when encountering flesh, which in turn causes the bullet to expand from back-to-front.

This weapon causes horrific damage to soft targets, the bullets acting as armor piercers for cover, yet switching to anti-personnel round performance for living targets.

On the downside, it was a marginal performer against bots. The magazine, holding bullets and a miniaturized accumulator necessary for the large power requirement of the scram rail, were not interchangeable with other weapon systems.

Charge Pistols were popular with NI soldiers in the war for various reasons as a BUG (Back Up Gun), mainly because they did not have neural links and had high-capacity magazines (holding only bullets with no need for a shell).

During the war, it was rumored a few prototype Charge Rifles were made, but since Federation rifle technology was already so effective, it is not surprising that these rifles, if they existed, never made it out of Skunk Works.

SiB-Gee
Standard Issue Big Gun

The SiB-Gee is a 14.5mm, near-recoilless, armor penetrator.

Federation soldiers and irregulars used the SiB-Gee extensively in the war, usually against bots, and especially in the extensive underground complexes the enemy created and liked to hide.

Also called the “Idaho FU Rifle.”

Hamilton NI Carbine, MK-2
The Mark II Ham-nCee is a NI Soldier’s primary, personal battle rifle.

We’ll let Lexus describe the Ham-nCee:

In my hands, I have a Hamilton NI Carbine, a nasty little fucker that shoots 6mm rounds from a clip that consumes itself while firing. Wired directly into my nervous system through my neural receptor on my right wrist, the targeting interface is my suit battle computer, with data piped directly into my optic nerves for visual input. It doesn’t project a HUD—it interfaces with my eyes directly. The display is in my eyes because it is my eyes.

Underneath my Ham-nCee is a 15mm grenade launcher, holding ten rounds of pure Hell Fire (the HF-nGL). The grenade is a ball of plasma in a shaped magnetic containment system inside of a composite shell. Once activated through my battle computer, the grenade’s magnetic field propels itself down the scram rails of the launcher. The mag-bubble degrades at the apex of its flight maneuvers, and the plasma then uses the rest of the shell as fuel. The resulting confabulation then smacks into the target, and burns.

And burns. It will burn anything for a brief time. Metal, rock, people.

NI Soldiers were extremely accurate with their Ham-nCee. When one pulled the trigger, something usually died.

Ghost Rifle
A Russo-Sino rifle manufactured exclusively for NI Stealth Soldiers.

Very little is known about the Ghost Rife other that, despite being one of the most sophisticated rifles ever built, they are highly reliable and, of course, extremely accurate.

During the war, the Ghost Rifle was the standard rifle of the Trans-Siberian Sniper Team.

S&W G-Series
S&W manufactures popular civilian weapons, and they target the G-Series line to women.

Based on the tried-and-true old GLOCK design, a G-Series pistol mitigates recoil with additional frictionless parts. It also contains micro-channels in the magazine well/grip construction filled with memory liquid that ebbs back and forth.

The most popular G series pistol is the G-16 Slim-line, a single-stack 9mm pistol manufactured in a variety of colors, including pink.

While technically a fully automatic pistol, magazine capacity limits their effectiveness in this setting.

A popular, back-woods variant is the G-20, a 10mm pistol with a six-inch hunting barrel, where one inch of the barrel pokes out of the five-inch frame. Every decade or two a petition goes out for a “long slide” variant of the G-20, which S&W subsequently reviews and then denies.

All S&W pistols come with a powerful green targeting laser.

The Abominators
Abominators are shotgun-based weapons made by a variety of manufacturers. On an undetermined time-period, The Killer-Bunny Abomination Society (K-BAS) awards the title to a shotgun from a manufacturer that “upholds the traditions of the Abominators and those who use them.” This title is very prestigious for a manufacturer, while to lose it is a great loss of honor.

No one knows when K-BAS came to be, but the archaic and secretive group has been in existence for hundreds of years. On popular net theory is the society existed all the way back to pre-Collapse, human civilization, around the beginnings of the Twenty-First Century in the old pre-Fed calendar.

The current Abominator is a double-barreled, drum-fed automatic 12-guage shotgun, with a 15mm over-the-barrel grenade launcher and a four-charge thunder-lance nestled underneath (in the center channel provided by the two barrels).

Due to their popularity in the war for killing rooms full of attacking cyborgs, weapon aficionados also call Abominators “monster killers.”

M4-MK26
The twenty-sixth version of the M4 carbine, this short-barreled rifle shoots 5mm rounds fed by a standard 5mm quick-feed magazine in either 40 or 60 round capacity, or drums containing 120 rounds. Typical velocities approach over 3,800 feet-per-second at 200 yards.

This bull-pup, variable-automatic design is a popular post-war variant. The rife is light, almost recoilless and very accurate. The M4 weapon system is modular, and is a favorite weapon for home defense and County Safety departments, with many types of accessories and manufacturers competing for the lucrative civilian M4 market.