Visuals, the written word, and a vast reach.

Publisher: Negative Press
Pages: 171
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-9573828-0-0
First Published: 2012
Date Reviewed: 14th November 2012
Rating: 5/5

Still is an anthology of short stories by an international mix of 26 writers. Each story is based on inspiration gained from a certain photograph. The concept of Bakker, credited as the editor, the book invites new interpretations of his photographic work. With submissions from writers such as Evie Wyld and Jan Van Mersbergen, and including some up-and-coming authors, the book is an assortment from the industry as a whole.

Combining artistry and writing, Still is a work stunning in both presentation and textual content. Not only are the photographs wonderful to look at – the oft-used macro details, the sharpness and detail, the sheer truth of the emptiness that engulfs you perhaps even more so than it might in real life – the design of the book is as much a strong point as the rest. Whilst for Bakker the photography is important, the book itself almost favours the writing, the photographs covering only 3/4s of a single page per story, the rest of that page given to the title. This makes it truly a book for those interested in either subject as well as those interested in both. Bakker took centre stage for his photography exhibition, and in continuing the theme by incorporating the stories and putting them first he has ensured the longevity of his own work, longer than it might have been otherwise.

The fantastic thing about the stories in Still is something Bakker notes in his introduction – often the writer has taken the photographic inspiration and run with it, leaving behind the notion of the derelict town hall. This means that there is a rough three categories of writing: the story based entirely around the photograph and its context, the story that starts with the photograph before leaping somewhere else, and the story that uses the photograph as a cleverly integrated device. Whilst the stories are in nature quite similar, which will be discussed in due course, the differences mean that the book never loses its brilliance, never becomes dull.

‘…entering or exiting through a doorway serves as an “event boundary” in the mind, which separates episodes of activity and files them away.’

The book is incredibly international, with authors from all over the world contributing stories that highlight particular cultures, and bring into focus the similar experiences that everyone faces. And “faces” is the right word – these are not joyous stories, indeed some are harrowing, and most share an interesting sort of disconnect. This disconnect is between reader and the character and it almost emphasises the vacant nature of the town hall, which when you think of the way some stories do not reference the hall, makes for a whole new topic of discussion. Similar too is the basic storytelling method, one of the reasons the book is so disturbing in that fascinating way. The often sparse language, the difference in dialects and speech patterns that don’t necessarily conform to the author’s choice of setting, and the hard-hitting atmosphere these elements bring to the table.

There is a specific theme that runs through most of the book, that of politics, society, and domesticity. They may be different subjects generally, but the way they are all compiled in one binding effectively puts across the fact that they are connected. Though it is not as simple as saying that politics affects society that affects domesticity. In addition there is the theme of self and how one fits into the world. There are stories focusing on themes such as cleaning an old work place that was important to the person, a loss of place in the life of one’s child, seeking sanctuary in the church, the difference between sisters, and the loss of self and identity that can happen after an accident.

Burdensome womanhood: inviting unwanted attention from unsavoury men who give themselves permission to see a young sapling as a full-grown tree, ready to be mounted. Tiresome womanhood: bringing with it expectations of marriage, of fecundity and of the fruit of the womb. Worrisome womanhood: ushering in responsibilities and tentative, anxious dreams for one’s offspring. Militant womanhood: in a state of perpetual readiness to do battle, a lioness ready to kill for her cubs.

Bakker has achieved his aim of creating something new from something already existing, as well as creating an art book, a literary work, and a combination of both. Still would make a superb addition to the shelves of anyone who favours the freedom provided by short stories and the quick dose of cerebral reading that accompanies them.

The quotations used in this review were taken from the stories of Justin Hill and Barbara Mhangami-Ruwende respectively.

I received this book for review from the editor, Roelof Bakker.

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Love and survival in an apocalyptic world.

Publisher: Carina Press (Harlequin)
Pages: 71
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-4268-9367-4
First Published: 23rd April 2012
Date Reviewed: 5th June 2012
Rating: 3.5/5

Derek and Lidia met when Lidia was the doctor in charge of rehabilitating him after he lost his arm. The riots and outright violence that had filled the streets of America threatened everyone’s lives, and whilst the two appeared to strike a rapport, it couldn’t last for long. 10 years later and Lidia still wonders what happened to Derek. When he turns up at her new community’s secured dwelling, looking for a doctor for a young friend, the feelings that had had little time to develop come racing back.

As this is a very short book, giving a basic plot summary without including any “spoiler” information is pretty impossible. However considering that the book’s strength lies in its setting and that the book is fairly predictable in an acceptable way, I do not see summarising it as a bad thing.

Drake once again provides us with an example of how creative and interesting she is when it comes to constructing worlds and elaborating on them. We’ve had sci-fi fairytales, romance in space with cowboys, and now we have an empty apocalyptic world. But this isn’t the apocalyptic world of the Young Adult genre, chilling and tyrannical, no, this is your bona fide obliteration, a world where nature has succumbed to the destructive forces of man and given in. Technology still exists but infrequently, and the world is notable for its desert.

The only issue with this is that there’s undoubtedly much to explore and a lot to learn – whilst the reader does learn a lot, the shortness of the book means that a good deal is left unsaid. Indeed the story itself is so short that it feels less of a novella and more the sort of piece that would fit into a collection. Because of the quick pace and few details you wonder if it would have worked better had it been in a compilation.

However that’s not to say that the book is bad, because as inferred, a book with such world building could not be so. And there is a lot to like about Desert Blade. One such example is the beginning, where everything feels rushed and you wonder if this will be the pace throughout. Once you get to the “10 years later” you realise just how appropriate such a fast pace was, not only because it was provided as background context, but because such a format is used for flashbacks in films – a quick glimpse of something, explosive in its revelations, before the story starts for real. You realise that the entire section was in fact one scene.

Something that was pointed out in reviews of Jaq’s Harp, was the inappropriate nature of a couple casually discussing whether they should revive their sexual relationship – all the while being chased by the enemy. Drake clearly took this criticism to heart, however she wove the criticism around her own preferences to good effect. In Desert Blade there may be enemies chasing the couple, but they will find a safe place before discussing their relationship. That Drake took the criticism of her readers and used it to improve an idea that she liked is to be admired and respected. In this one small element of her writing she has improved as a writer ten-fold, and shown that her readers important.

Desert Blade has a good concept behind it, a fascinating world that begs to be portrayed on the big screen, and an interesting mix of traditional and modern values. It may even have a hint of present media culture in the form of an element not unlike X-Men. The sole aspect that holds it back is its length. While we may know enough to understand the attraction between the characters, especially physically, we do not get to spend enough time with them to truly appreciate their positive roles in the community, and whilst another might say that that’s okay given the romantic focus, the fact that Drake included enough about the context to intrigue us, makes it an issue. The concept of lost and found is completed, but it could have been developed a lot more. Whilst the characters are the focus, it can be easy to instead get lost in the setting.

Something that has so far been left out of this review is the reasoning for this book being an erotic rather than fade-to-black romance. There are a couple of scenes, one in particular, with explicit language and no-holds-barred descriptions. However unlike Drake’s previous books, they are not as prevalent and indeed one of them is woven around the issue of contraception, providing a lesson at the same time. That said, Derek is rather open about his love of women in a way that may prove uncomfortable with some readers, especially when his need to protect oversteps the mark.

Desert Blade is an interesting story combined with a compelling sorry world. Appropriate as an introduction to Drake’s work, it demonstrates the author’s strengths well. It perhaps ought to have been longer but is good on its own merit – and it does succeed in continuing the tradition of making you look forward to whatever world Drake has in mind next.

I received this book for review from Carina Press.

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When things aren’t as fantastical as before, it can get a little dull.

Publisher: Mira Ink (Harlequin)
Pages: 395
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-0-7783-0446-3
First Published: 2010
Date Reviewed: 19th July 2011
Rating: 3/5

Meghan’s back in faeryland, held captive by Queen Mab. But defeating the Iron fey wasn’t as easy as killing the king, and when the Sceptre of Seasons, a vital element in keeping the mortal world in check, goes missing, there’s only one group of people that could have taken it; and only one human, a prince, an elf, and a cat, who know who they need to find.

The Iron Daughter is the second book in Kagawa’s faery series, and although it begins well and indeed ends with a lot of promise, the main bulk of the book suffers from the same bad quality that Torment and New Moon do – pressure to keep the series going as long as possible. It’s not a bad book, per se, but it does rumble along down paths that you know it could have done without, and loses the true fantastical atmosphere that The Iron King had.

The most obvious issue is with the reiterating of what happened before. Yes, it is useful sometimes to reiterate an event that happened in the previous book in a series, it can help those who might be reading the books in a different order to feel they know what’s going on, but there is a subtlety to doing it right and unfortunately Kagawa has made a mess of it. Instead of giving a few brief words on events at the start of the book, Kagawa gives a summary that lasts for most of the first chapter and then, throughout the rest of the book, continually has Meghan explaining events in great detail unnecessarily. It all seems rather like the author had a word count to fill and when the going got tough she filled it with repetition instead. A reader doesn’t want to be nearing the end of the book still being “reminded” about what happened in the last one, they want instead to be reading a climax.

There are the usual revelations that aren’t really revelations, like Meghan being surprised that Ash doesn’t actually hate her and was only pretending to be harsh in order to save her (this isn’t a spoiler since it’s at the start of the book and obvious from page one to any reader worth their salt), and a lot of time spent on things that could have been given a sentence rather than a whole chapter – this is different to the repetition issue and concerns things like shopping.

Kagawa references a lot of popular media to illustrate what she is trying to say, and although it dates the book and means that it may be difficult for future readers to understand, you can see why she has done it and it does amply explain why Meghan wants to be home – because her life is so full of films and music and therefore the technology that is not compatible with the faery world. But there needed to be more research for things like theatre where she talks about The Phantom of the Opera being a play – which it was originally, following on from the book, but when she mentions organs, it is clear that she is talking about the musical, and few people would refer to this musical as a play.

So the book goes on and on, tripping up on additional plot points and taking forever to get somewhere. Just when you think the characters are going to move on to the next part of the story, someone says they’ve hurt themselves, or an enemy comes along and kidnaps them all, and it simply comes across as forced. About 75% of the book could have been stripped away and the result would have been a very good novel, if short.

The romance is as angsty as ever, and strong, and joyfully I can report that Ash, the hero, doesn’t leave Meghan for very long. In that way, the cover of my copy which pronounces it the next Twilight was wrong. In fact this book and the series as a whole is nothing like Twilight except for the elements of love triangle and high school. The set-up itself, of the bad guys not having been eliminated in the first book, is as acceptable a format as ever in literature, and although Meghan can be very weak at times, she does make an effort when she can. There wasn’t any reason why this book couldn’t have been as good as the first, The Iron King.

But it is just so under whelming.

The potential for the third book, The Iron Queen, is good, and hopefully Kagawa will return to the fantastically magical feel that she created for The Iron King. Thankfully The Iron Daughter isn’t so bad that it will put a reader off from continuing the series, because the relationship between Meghan and Ash is worth following; but for all the glitter on the cover, this book contains little of the glamour to merit it not being looked over in favour of a fast track to the third book.

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A brilliant illustration of what is happening as we embrace technology and forget our dreams. Because it isn’t all about the fantastical.

Publisher: Mira Ink (Harlequin)
Pages: 355
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-0-7783-0434-0
First Published: 2010
Date Reviewed: 19th July 2011
Rating: 4.5/5

Meghan has never been popular owing to her family’s relative poverty. She is also not particularly happy as her mother often neglects her, her stepfather reacts as though he genuinely forgets she exists, and her real father disappeared when she was six. But she does have a brother and her best friend, Robbie. Yet four year old Ethan says there are monsters in his wardrobe, and Meghan keeps seeing things that aren’t really there – or are they? And come to think of it she doesn’t really know who Robbie is. When Ethan is taken by the monsters that truly were in his wardrobe, Meghan finds herself on a quest to the world of the Fey to save him. Everything she’s ever known is viable to change.

The Iron King is a piece of fiction that, like many other works being published in this era, successfully blends the current trends in young adult literature with a strong lesson for life. There is a high school, there are cranky parents, but Kagawa is focused on the faery world she has created. As soon as she can get Meghan out of our own world, she does.

The initial journey through the world is very quick and definitely seems rushed but the reader shouldn’t be put off because it slows down sufficiently once Kagawa reaches the main storyline. The world is well developed and magical, if you’ll pardon the pun, the differences between the Winter Court and Summer Court, the two opposing imperial domains, making for a broad reading experience that enables the place to be utterly engrossing. And the book uses elements from different beliefs about faeries to create a diverse land. There are many different creatures, there is the idea that faeries die when humans stop believing in them, and there are fragments from classic works such as Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland and the plays of Shakespeare.

The characters are the usual fare for young adult literature – a kind of love triangle, a good guy, a bad guy – but the heroine is difficult to stereotype because she is neither weak nor strong. She has the capacity to get on your nerves at times, but you can’t say that she doesn’t try to fight, and does.

The book is at once a true fantasy and technologically futuristic. It deals with the idea that our dreams create fairies and that as our dreams change to those of technology, and logic brings an end to faith, then the creations change to suit. Thus the book holds a powerful message: although technology is good – and Kagawa never suggests we abandon it, the heroine keeps hold of her iPod throughout – the proposal is that we should not forget the magic that is nature and all the happiness it can grant us. Where nature is colourful, technology is more often monotone and where nature brings true happiness, technology helps us achieve, but we are constantly having to ask if it makes us happy. Indeed one could say that with the advent of social networking and the demise of the requirement to meet people in person in order to communicate, we are missing out on the happiness contact with others can bring.

The cautious reader should be aware that there are a few references to sex that are rather explicit and sadistic in nature owing to the darkness that the author presents the faery world to be. The romance in the book is chaste, but the fey enjoy taunting humans sexually in a way that a younger reader may find frightening simply because of the descriptions. This explicitness speaks for Kagawa’s approach overall, she is not afraid to include horrific images when appropriate and, apart from Meghan’s weak episodes, doesn’t shy away from being straight with you.

Ultimately what happens while reading is that the idea we have that there can be too much technology is re-enforced, because nobody wants a techno fairy over the sparkling beautiful things we think of now, do they? The difference between adults and children is incorporated – where children have the freedom to imagine whatever they wish and believe in what they will, there are faeries; where adults cease to believe because it is considered childish, but believe in science, there is a creativity that can be harmful if left unwatched. Forget the faeries, it’s a very important issue in our world in general.

Of course a book that deals with faeries that are under threat was never going to be more emotionally invested in the Iron fey than the original fey, and throughout the book, while the reader roots for the originals, you can’t help but remember that yes, life was okay without some of the technology (medicinal advances are very important), and that we got by without it.

But perhaps the most pressing lesson is that we should simply keep believing. Kagawa is not saying we should always believe in fairies but that maybe we should keep an open mind, or at the very least consider the possibility of other phenomena. There are plenty of supernatural things in the world that different people believe in but that science cannot prove, because it is beyond the realm of science at this time. And just because science cannot prove something does not mean that something does not exist. We know this anyway, because of life, and faith, and also because science can get it wrong. But sometimes we need reminding.

Kagawa’s book uses the usual formula but creates something different from it. In this way the book will appeal to those looking for your standard paranormal young adult literature and also those specifically interested in faeries. It succeeds in being both a good read and a verdict on how we manage our creativity. And, like all good young adult literature, it does it without preaching.

I waited many months before picking up The Iron King, although I had seen it everywhere and been intrigued by the set-up. And although it wasn’t quite as fantasy-based as I’d expected, the reality of it made its mark. Very highly recommended to fans of fantasy, history, steam punk, social issues, domestic relations, angst, and romances. The crossover value of this book is extensive.

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The only thing worse than love or hate is indifference.

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Pages: 393
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-0-340-98091-0
First Published: 1st February 2011
Date Reviewed: 1st April 2011
Rating: 5/5

Lena has grown up in a world where love is treated as a disease and everyone must undergo a procedure around 18 years of age in order to eradicate it. She’s been looking forward to becoming an adult for a long time. Then she meets Alex.

Whereas Before I Fall was a very good book exploring social relationships and the mind, Delirium is a brilliant book that takes it one step further.

It may appear to you at first glance, as it did to me, that the love discussed in the book is romantic love. It is, but it’s also every other kind of love out there. Therefore a constant wish of Lena’s is that her family members might hug her like they used to before they had their procedures. The procedure basically means that people don’t care anymore, children could hurt themselves but their parents wouldn’t bat an eyelid other than to soak up any blood for purely hygienic reasons. This is what makes Delirium so difficult to read. The government says that getting rid of love stops pain, but of course for the children it causes it, having to live with parents who aren’t much better than zombies.

It is a horrific thing to think about, a world without love, but it takes Oliver’s careful and deep examination to really show us what such a world would be like and how important love truly is. Without any affection, any feelings, the minor characters simply go about spouting rules and often have trouble trying to think of what to say to a family member. Without any affection the people in charge have no problems bludgeoning resisters to death.

A world without fear. Impossible.

Lena’s development obviously rests on her discovery that all the things she’s been taught are lies. The catalyst here is the introduction of Alex, an outsider, the boy she falls in love with. When he tells her there are no rules, meaning to their race across the sand but the subtext being about his own outsider life, Oliver clearly means it as an early sign to her heroine.

Something that’s interesting is the amount of hatred shown by the governmental groups. One can’t help wondering why they didn’t get rid of hate as well – but maybe that’s the point because as Oliver shows, hate leads to fear and thus control. The government workers can threaten, can kill, indiscriminately. The perfect world is not really perfect at all.

I found Delirium to be as much a dystopian tale as a parable for today. We are given so many rules and things such as CCTV that we’re told are for our protection, but are they really? Don’t they just allow people to spy on us and find out everything, things they shouldn’t really know? In addition to this I found a connection between the way outsiders and resisters are treated and how, until recently and even still sometimes today, mental health patients are treated.

That’s the irony of it. She’s looking at me like I’m the crazy one, the dangerous one. Meanwhile the guy downstairs […] is the savior.

The love is forbidden, a great love story set in the future. It’s well written and delved into without ever being too much or unbelievable. The hero himself is the backup to Oliver’s statements.

Delirium demonstrates just how much we value love in this world, and shows how everything we do would change if it did not exist, would change in ways we might not have thought of. Not only is it a brilliant book, it’s a valuable lesson.

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