The Good:  With his second novel, Molles drops the reader right back into the action where it left off in The Remaining.  He also finds an organic way to reintroduce readers to the story in progress, without browbeating us with a clumsy recap.  Using Captain Harden’s injuries and disorientation to great advantage, Molles is able to continue the action while our protagonist realistically tries to get up to speed and remember where he is.  It is a clever way to remind the reader of the first book while moving the story forward.  And, frankly, that is what this book is… one non-stop thrust of forward motion.

The Worm is also going to give props to Molles for playing to his strengths again with this book.  There are female characters and there are children but Molles doesn’t seem overly confident in how to depict them (at least not extensively) and so he doesn’t.  God bless him for it.  He has his tentacles deep in Captain Harden’s psyche and that is good enough for this reader.  The female characters are functional and definitely not superfluous – they just are not explored to any great depth.  Again, this is probably a great editorial choice because they are important characters and to get them wrong would be a greater sin than to largely ignore their inner workings.

Nitpicking:  To the best of The Worm’s knowledge, The Remaining series is a collection of D.J. Molles’ self-published work.  First off; that is pretty freaking amazing.  However (you knew this was coming…) despite the tight plotting, careful editing, and smooth narration the book could still have done with some proofing.  There are more than a few typos.  (He instead of him; me instead of mine; etc. You know, the kind of thing that happens when an author rewrites a passage?)  Now, there aren’t many of these errors and they are not so egregious as to pull the reader out of the action – but they’re there and seem somehow more noticeable here than in the first book.  Perhaps Molles was in a rush to capitalize on the success of his first installment and did not spend as much time proofing this one?  Either way, the typos in The Remaining: Aftermath are few and stand out only because Molles maintains such high standards in every other regard.  In truth, if this book were written with the uneven skill and shaky confidence of a newbie writer, minor typos would be easily forgiven.  But Molles reads like a bonafide rock star writer so The Worm is going to give him the grief typically reserved for the big boys.  I’m pretty sure he can take it.

Favorite Scenes:  It isn’t a huge spoiler, but The Worm will still attempt to be coy with this one.  Lee Harden does something unexpected while at the used car dealership that could read as uber sentimental but the quiet payoff that comes later makes it all worth while.  It also serves to remind the readers of both the beauty and the difficulty inherent in holding to an ideal. 

I can’t decide if the final chapter in The Remaining: Aftermath is my favorite scene; the most memorable scene; or the one that makes me want to track D.J. Molles down and beat him about the head until he tells me what is going on.  Luckily for this worm, the third novel is already out and – what’s this? – already loaded onto my Kindle.   

Random Musings:  While reading these books, I am reminded of my brother and his friends reading all the Mack Bolan/Phoenix Force books in the late eighties and early nineties.  Those were serialized, short, young adult reads for guys.  That is the feel Molles is giving off with his series.  (If moms and college girls can get all into Potter, why can’t a worm indulge in some PAZ fiction that is ostensibly YA?  Why can’t anybody?) There is some rough language in The Remaining: Aftermath and, naturally, there is violence – this is Post Apocalyptic Zombie lit, after all.  There are suggestions of sexual motivations and some scenes of depravity, but through it all there is a strong YA sensibility.  The good guy is a good guy.  He is disciplined and focused, while doing his level best to help people along the way.  Captain Lee Harden is basically a hero we can all get behind. 

What makes this novel work as both Young Adult fiction and as a tale adults can get sucked into?  It is because the thematic layers work independently of each other.  Molles does address psychology and politics (at the most animal/instinctive level).  Yet, if those themes are too subtle for younger readers, no worries.  Molles interspersed those bits with narration and plot progression so the younger fans can read through strictly for the plot points.  Maybe they only need to know who is on our hero’s side and who the baddies are.  It is okay if they don’t always understand the why of it all, but those deeper stirrings will keep mature readers second-guessing and wondering throughout.

This is a strange analogy to make about pustule-popping, skull-crushing PAZ fiction, but The Worm is gonna’ go there:  These stories work like Pixar movies do.  There is something for everybody and readers of any sophistication level can enjoy them – not tolerate or get through them, but genuinely enjoy the hell out of them.

Kinda Brilliant:

Smartly, he didn’t try to siphon each vehicle to see if there was fuel. Instead, he would insert the tube and feed it down into the bottom of the tank, then blow through it. If he made bubbles, he would siphon. If the air blew freely, they would move on.

Seriously? I’ve read a lot of books.  I’ve seen a lot of movies.  This makes perfect sense and I’ve never EVER seen it done this way.  Good to know!  Reminds me a little of the scene in The Steam-Powered Sniper in the City of Broken Bridges by Cassandra Duffy, with the metal shavings and the caulk.  Dunno’ how practical it is – but I like the effort at survivalist ingenuity!

Final Thoughts:  Molles does all the things you need in your PAZ lit and sets up the familiar scenarios, but does it very capably.  He sets tone, builds dread, raises stakes, and then rockets on to the action. 

Trite statement of 2013 coming… If you only experience one zombie tale this year, make it The Remaining series of books.  You will get all the humanity of The Walking Dead, the military suvivor skills of The Passage, and the thoughtfulness of World War Z in one tight package.  In fact, stop reading this review and just click on the link already.   

Fun Factoids:  I don’t want to ruin the joy of reading Sleights of Mind for yourselves, so let me just dump a few random chunks of geek knowledge on you.  If these tidbits don’t intrigue, this book is probably not for you.  But, if like me, you were amazed and at least a little horrified by some of them, then give Sleights of Mind a perusal.  There is plenty more where this comes from:

In discussing the relative limitation of the human optic nerve, the authors explain that each human eye is about as powerful as a one-megapixel camera and that it is only high-def in a tiny portion of the field of view.  In other words… we only clearly see that which we look directly at – the rest is construct and blurred images. 

In discussing our perception of personal space the authors describe our attachment to the area immediately surrounding our physical bodies and how violated we can feel when it is penetrated.  They give a wonderful example of a child giggling like mad when we simply wiggle our fingers over their ribs.  Apparently, our sense of personal space is a function of our mind/body connection our whole life – and not the result of crowded elevators and rude cineplex patrons.

The authors also demonstrate the near-fact that we humans don’t have the free will we think we do… but fortunately we have “free won’t” and that is pretty much just as good.

The geek in me also loved the bit about how early magicians (being the techno-nerds they were) developed the parachute, the ribbonless typewriter, and the coin-operated lock for vending machines.

This book skims over a number in intriguing ideas – sort of an intro to neurobiology and psychology.  There are compelling insights into autism, gender-bias, natural selection, and other sociological phenomena.  Any one of the ideas expressed in this book would be worthy of a book all it’s own.  Macknik and Conde don’t spend a lot of time on any one concept though but zip on to the next, based loosely on a progression or exploration of magic tricks.  This conceit is high concept for sure, but maybe did not serve the material as well as the authors intended.  Too often, while reading this book, I wanted more information or a slower discussion but instead got a spoiler alert and explanation of how magicians fold cards, dig through trash cans for clues, or use props to obfuscate reality.

Odds and Ends:  The Amaz!ng Randi is, well, amazing yet again.  The Worm knows of him best through his Uri Geller challenge and his contributions to the Skeptical Movement.  He is a brilliant mind, in addition to being a lecturer and magician.  One can easily see how his own dual interests in science and magic lend themselves to this book’s subject matter, and his chapters are the most interesting and well-integrated.  The rest, though, feels somewhat forced.  It is possible the writers overestimated mainstream readers’ infatuation with magic tricks.  Many of the most lasting examples and experiments in Sleights of Mind do not involve magic at all.

The more I thought about what felt slightly off about Sleights of Mind, the more I took a look at what worked.  Then it started to occur to me that the authors used something fantastic and mysterious (neuroscience) to explain something else fantastic and mysterious (magic) and the result was something far less impactful than it should have been.  When Macknik and Conde explain eye movements and concentration using everyday examples, it sticks.  We can all related to zoning out while driving home or to not noticing something obvious to others.  But by adding the extra layer of describing a magic trick (which we adults already assume is just that – a trick) it sort of downplays the dramatic reveal of the science.  Not a whole hell of a lot of us spend much time wondering how magicians accomplish their feats of skill.  But we all get a little freaked out when we pull into our own driveway after a commute and have no memory of driving home.  Add to that the practical, layman’s use for such information and it is easy to see why experiments about ethnic and gender bias or pilot error have more resonance than the “ah-ha” moment of realizing that a magician has (shockingly) tricked you or outright lied. 

One last comment about the content in Sleights of Mind… there are very useful links as footnotes (in the Kindle version, at least) so the reader can actually see some of the experiments and tricks performed.  This feature is super helpful given the fact that making a coin disappear is not the most visually stunning scenario imaginable, and even less so when the authors are forced to merely describe the act.  Props to the authors for being sensitive to the limitations of print here and including links.  They also went out of their way to include simple graphics and photos to demonstrate many of their illusions.  A word of caution, though:  If you do read this book in Kindle format, be careful where you touch to advance to the next page.  This work is footnote laden and you may just find yourself jumping around to disparate ideas and explanations without meaning to.

Final Thoughts:  For my own money, I’d prefer to read more about Macknik and Conde’s neuro research and less about magic tricks, but I totally get what they were going for here.  Perhaps it is more a function of my own particular nerd brain that I didn’t enjoy the interruptions to the more interesting discussions about how the brain works – just to find out how disappointingly mundane some of these traditional magic tricks are.  I must admit the mentalist tricks were interesting, in as far as they did manipulate the brain’s tendency to follow certain neurological and psychological models.  Ultimately, I was left with a sense of awe and majesty… with the science of it all.  The ‘magic’ was kinda’ dull.

This book will absolutely not be for everyone.  It stops a little short for the folks deeply interested in the neuroscience, and it blunts and demystifies the entertainment value of magic for the fans of that particular form of fun.  In trying to make the science accessible, Sleights of Mind sort of split the difference between two approaches to their subject matter and in doing so, did not excel in either.  That said, the sheer amount of interesting neurological and perceptual information contained in the book makes it worth a read.  The Worm’s beef is less with the content and more with the method of delivery.  For similarly astounding insight into the human mind and psyche, The Worm recommends Blink by Malcolm Gladwell (which is also briefly acknowledged in Sleights of Mind). 

Thanks to the Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe podcast for exposing (visual pun intended) The Worm to this work back in October of 2011.

Enjoy the opening sequences.  Let them stroke the nostalgic pleasure centers of your brain.  Those beats clearly have the feeling of classic teen horror movies.  Everything is tranquil and optimistic, but just slightly too bright and idyllic.  If Lunatic Fringe were a film, this entire opening sequence would occur with minimal soundtrack - a helicopter shot of the truck driving the forested highway, and then the score would build as we are treated to blocky white credits- ending in an ominous crescendo as Lexie sees her new college for the first time.  Soak in the atmosphere and tone.  Think Final Destination, Halloween, Carrie.  It all looks swell, but something dark is lurking at the fringes.

Moon is taking readers on a journey of self-discovery, sexual awakening, and personal growth.  She is also lampooning some pretty specific “types” within and without the gay community, but she is doing so with a straight face and a loving acknowledgement.  Best of all, Lunatic Fringe is a high wire act of social commentary and ridiculousness.  Moon has decided our werewolf lore isn’t getting the love and examination it deserves so she is out to set the record straight.  Or gay.  Slanted, maybe? 

Whether werewolves serve as the stinking, snarling nightmare fuel of your fevered dreams; or they are the furry, misunderstood cuddle bunnies of your fantasy romance – Moon is going to change how you think about them, about yourself, about women, and about sexual politics.  Or maybe she is just joshing ya’ and this is all a terrific lark with a clever premise and a lot of sex.  Either way, it is worth a download.

Favorite Lines:  You have to love an author who writes about werewolves and uses the word insouciance.  It’s that kind of book.  And I like it.  How about this one:

Her skin was the color of incense and rolled like smoke over her ample figure.

Or this:

Natalee had gotten out of the natural tub and stood in the moonlight, ineffable wings of steam rising from her body like her soul ascending. Her skin was as white as the moon, a cold angel.

Who ever said werewolves can’t be sexy?  Pshaw.

Issues or Satire?  The hectoring, smug tone of some of the women (or should I more PC’edly say womyn?) gets wearisome in spots.  In fact, it becomes distractingly over-the-top.  In the beginning, Lexie is forever being lectured by Blythe and the rest of the Pack on all things feminist.  Don’t get me wrong, it works for the characters as they are uber ramped-up college aged radicalized feminists who, naturally, have all the answers.  I mean, didn’t everybody when they were in college?  But having no valid counterpoint to Blythe’s diatribes seemed to lend them an endorsement by the author, which had the unfortunate side-effect of taking the reader out of the fantasy and focusing too heavily on the politics of the situation.  At least early on.  Moon created interesting dynamics between her characters but the intrigue of these scenes sometimes got lost in political rally cries.  To add salt to that wound, our protagonist (Lexie) is chronically inundated with moronic id monsters masquerading as frat boys.  In truth, it felt heavy-handed and scraped painfully against the subtlety and symbolism of the rest of the work. 

(While appreciating much of the Pack’s ideology – I did find myself wanting to point out some of the gross assumptions and logical fallacies in it’s arguments.  Then again, I’m a nerd.  And nerds think we know everything, too.) 

Intentional or not, I found the Pack to be mostly ridiculous in their self-seriousness and yet they still completely worked within the narrative.  Lexie started off without any agency and proved a frustrating counter to the debate of male/female dominance and control – given that she was willing to flip flop between two powerful forces that were forever telling her what to do and who to be – as long as it was within their image of femaleness.  And there were the guys.  Even I began to feel a little brow-beaten by the man-as-perennial-bad-guy themes, but dressing it up in fur and going to such hyperbolic lengths to make the point, made these stand-by arguments fun and fresh.

Hang in there, even if the polarizing arguments feel wearying… our protagonist’s name is Lexie Clarion for goodness sake.  And she does eventually find herself and begins to act as a gentling, clarifying voice for the lunatic fringes surrounding the novel’s core issues.  It just takes her a while to get there.

The Sex: Good lord is there sex!  It takes a while to happen, but once it does, Moon turns her ample talents to the task of giving us some legit cliterary wonder with Lunatic Fringe.  Then she snuffles and pads around the territory of wolf-human lovin’.  Fortunately, she doesn’t actually go there, but having Lexie marvel at the musculature and muskiness of her animal-form lover was plenty for The Worm to feel naughty about without having to seek professional or legal help.

The Straight Truth: This book will appeal to some lesbians and most feminists for sure.  If I’m being honest (when is The Worm not?) I do not see it being a pleasant read for mainstreamers.  The problem isn’t in Moon exploring equality of the sexes, or even that she has her characters take such strident positions… it is, frankly, how committed Moon is to her satirical look at the ideology.  In pushing the werewolf as female metaphor, she has thrust it into every conceivable aspect of her story.  The Worm surely gets it.  Much has been made of vampirism as metaphor for sexual dominance.  I mean, who doesn’t intuitively understand the impaling, seductive, quasi-rapey nature of vampirism as metaphor to male sexual aggression and manipulation?  But in doing the same for werewolves as symbols of a reclaimed femaleness, Moon has decided to abandon some of the more subtle suggestions and go right for the blunt cudgel of graphic biology.  Of course, I am talking about the monthly moon change as it relates to menses.  Yup.  And it isn’t cute or “told slant.”  You will be treated to tampons and finger checks and all sorts of real, graphic, plain speak that might feel out of place tonally for such an otherwise sly work.

While reading some scenes in Lunatic Fringe, the reader may feel the author is intentionally challenging his or her notions about what is acceptable and what is not in our phalus-loving world.  As if Moon is just daring the reader (or reviewer) to criticize certain passages.  But the trap is too easily seen, and the arguments too predictably false.  If The Worm were to gripe about the abundance of bloody menses action in the book, it might mean The Worm is uncomfortable with femininity or ashamed of what bodies are meant to do naturally.  Bad Worm.  And yet, my criticism of this element is two-fold:  1) just because something happens naturally doesn’t mean it warrants use in the novel, and certainly doesn’t demand graphic explanation every time it is used.  I mean, where are the descriptions of feces and flatulence?  Those could be important plot points in a thriller so connected to scents and tracking. 2) Moon gracefully constructed the rest of the descriptions in her novel, why do these beats about menstruation and body hair read so, well, clunky?  I’m all for Moon making me see these aspects of femininity in an empowering way, but she’s got to work for it.  Having the nerve to pass them off as sexy or strong isn’t the same thing as making them so.  And given the rest of Moon’s skill on display, I think she could have pulled it off if she’d worked harder at it.

One last bit of straight truth for y’all; be prepared for quite a bit of slapdash moralizing.  Yes, some of it is character building.  Some of it is for ambiance.  Some of it is intentionally grandiose and goofy.  And some of it is sneaky snark slipped into what could ostensibly be read as politically centrist – but don’t be fooled.  Moon does draw some of her feminist characters archly over-the-top, but even her more moderate characters cram a few logical fallacies into their feminist platforms.  And don’t be shocked to learn that no “heterotypical” male character in this novel is going to be a rock solid good guy.  I’m just saying.  Take this bit as a taste of what there is to be found in Lunatic Fringe.  A wise, older woman is explaining to our protagonist how the Pack came to be:

Feminists like the Pack get a bad rap for hating men. But it’s a defense mechanism in response to the hatred men have for women. For every nice guy like your dad, there’s another man who turns his desire for women into contempt, or exaltation, which is just as dehumanizing.

Okay, keep in mind this is the more open-minded character speaking.  She is trying to mitigate the harsh feelings Lexie is having for the feminist group known as the Pack.  My problem is the false premise for the Pack’s defensiveness.  It boldly asserts, as fact, that men hate women.  Of course, given that premise, it is easy to see why they are so virulently anti-male, right?  But is that a fact?  Again, this is our wiser, more moderate character speaking.

And as an FYI, the protagonist’s father isn’t so much a “nice guy” as a spectacularly weak one.

Geek Out Moments:  Loved the naming of one of the Pack Corwin.  Maybe the author meant it, maybe she didn’t – I loved it anyhow.  In fact, many of the names in the novel feel like either one-the-nose character descriptions or nods to existing lore.  All good stuff.  (Having the tale set in the Pacific Northwest, with its Native American heritage, also helped keep the spot-on names believable to the characters and the reader alike.)

In an effort to mutate the werewolf lore in keeping with the “anti-vampire” theme, Moon even played with the key trans-formative action in all werewolf legends:  the bite.  I’ll try to avoid spoilers here, but one concept had me geeking so hard that I can’t help but give Moon props for it.  In vampire tales, our newbies are converted through a bite and exchange of fluids, yes?  And we can all sort of agree that the very penetrative nature of this action lends itself perfectly to the vampirism/male sexuality metaphor, yes?  Okay, let me say Moon does not use a bite as her catalyst for change into a werewolf.  There is a seemingly innocuous explanation for change given, and it involves lapping up water from a very specific location (get your minds out of the gutter).  That is all I can say without ruining some of the mystery in Lunatic Fringe, but the visual and the concept, and the active participation required in said ritual, works wonderfully in this story.  It is still vaguely ridiculous, but gets uber-points for creativity and metaphor continuity.

Favorite Scenes:  The entire dorm room disaster scene was fantastic.  Here, more than almost anywhere else, Moon demonstrates the “less is more” style of her writing.  Symbolically a lot is going on in this scene, but it also has plot significance, character introduction, and stunning visual/aural intensity.

The transformation scenes were handled very nicely.  Less ink was spent describing ghastly, painful external change than on the internal rearrangements and shift in sensory awareness.

Which brings us to the physicality in Lunatic Fringe.  Moon has a strong sense of the physics of movement and power in her werewolf characters, so the action beats are timed and delivered perfectly.  But more than this, the author also seems to understand the nature of her creatures (whether in human or wolf form) so well that she uses their innate physicality to communicate character, tension, and danger as well.  It gives the entire piece a different vibe than one would get from, say, an angsty internalized vampiric wank fest?

Final Thoughts: The above critiques aside, I had a blast with Lunatic Fringe.  I just do not think it is meant for, nor going to be enjoyed by, everybody.  That works for me.  (Have you seen our tagline?)  What’s more, I think the entire novel is to be read with a wink and a nod.  Moon has brilliantly tweaked the werewolf lore to fit lesbianism, college cliquiness, sexual awakening, and self-awareness themes.  But I think she has done it with a gleeful giggle.  There is just no way she did not intentionally make the whole thing damned funny and self-deprecating.  Don’t misunderstand… this is not a “funny book” in the sense that you have goofy, quippy characters running around.  It is written with a steady hand and sober tone.  However, from the title to the plot, to the themes within – Lunatic Fringe is self-referential and gently mocking.

The Worm gives a strong recommendation for Lunatic Fringe to any lesfic or feminist readers out there.  The rest of The Worm Army?  Hmmm.  Maybe pass on this one unless you are really ready for something completely different and likely to make you squirm a bit.  Hell, now that I think about it, that may apply to my feminist lesbian readers, too!  If you are already in the militant camp – enjoy!  If you aren’t, but just love your sexy werewolf lovin’, give this one a try.  Just don’t take it too seriously.  It’s okay to laugh and still be a feminist.  (And if this novel weren’t meant to be a little tongue-in-cheek, I’m convinced Allison Moon is a vawy scawy lady!)  I’ll let you know if that opinion changes once I’ve read the sequel, which is already downloaded and waiting.

Unrelated Rant for Podcast Listeners Only:  I need to thank the Cocktail Hour podcast for their April 25, 2013 interview with author Allison Moon.  In truth, I don’t remember what was said to attract me to this work but I’m sure it had something to do with the author’s disdain for things teen and vampiric. 

Ladies of the Cocktail Hour, a quick note: less podcast housekeeping and fawning, huh?  If you are not going to drive the interview, at least let the author speak uninterrupted.  It doesn’t all have to be self-satisfied laughs and cool disinterest.  You’ve got a damned good thing going and serve to introduce listeners to new authors and new concepts.  But do some homework or feign some interest in the subject matter and guest.  I love your platform and you have amazing access to authors – don’t squander it by turning every interview into a mumbled phone conversation that sounds like something I could overhear at the supermarket.  Get in there and mix it up, ladies!  Access is a huge advantage, and it is clear you have personal relationships with many of your guests… but your listeners don’t.  Stop shortchanging the discussion by glossing over in-depth discussions and information just because it is something y’all have discussed off air.  We tune in for the interview because we care about the work and the author, not to hear incomplete sentences and half-formed referrences to drinking games and shenanigans that only reinforce how “in” y’all are with the guest. 

In particular, the interview with Cari Hunter was wildly uncomfortable.  How do you fumble her introduction, even bragging that you didn’t prepare one… and then put her on the spot by asking her to do her own intro and book synopsis?  Then you spend the bulk of the interview knit-picking her British/American language differences?  And then jump to a juvenille game to determine which of her characters she would sleep with?  I couldn’t believe I was actually hearing that.  Levity is one thing, but these authors are not mega-stars whom we are all dying to see “uplugged.” For many of them this is an opportunity to get their works and their talents before a larger audience.

So, my advice for what it is worth… shape up, ladies.  You have a lock on the market for this niche audience.  Chances are you won’t have it for long, so step it up or you’re going to lose it.  Your guests may be your friends but they are also important voices in a fledgling, evolving art form.  Let them be heard or someone else is going to start asking the questions.

By the by, I am North Carolina born and Southern California-raised.  I have people in New England, the Midwest, and the deep South.  I am a pretty typical American with varied linguistic influences and traditions.  To the embarrassment of many, I say “reckon” all the time.  So cut Hunter a damn break, huh?

(I also still occasionally use the terms “britches,” “business,” and “nethers” in ways that make my girlfriend cringe.  I’m working on it, though, baby.)

That’s right, you can read your eyes dry getting lost in the insane world of the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning… but this is episodic entertainment folks.  Once you catch up, you’re going to be waiting with every month along with the rest of us, fiending for your next single issue hit.  The good news?  You have plenty of issues available to try out right now.

The Rundown:  Wolverine is a badass merc type who has had a falling out with a faction of the X-Men.  He works nightly in the controversial X-Force (another comic book) where he and his team take extreme action to thwart really bad dudes.  Wolverine re-opens the Xavier school and invites mutant kids from around the universe to join up.  That is mostly all you need to know.  He has the familiar help of Hank/Beast and Kitty Pride and Iceman/Bobby.  Other than that, you can go ahead and assume all the kids are brand new.  They probably will be to you and anything you need to know will be in the book.  With mutants, it’s okay to be confused about their abilities for a while.  Many of them don’t understand them yet, either. 

So it is orientation day at the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning.  Grab your book bag and get in line.  Just don’t make eye contact with the inspectors from the Department of Education, as they don’t care for mutants much.  Oh, and pray Beast gets the kinks worked out in the Danger Room, or at least catches all the interstellar gremlins he’s accidentally unleashed… oh well.  Some days are more challenging than others.

The Art:  When starting Wolverine and the X-Men, the art and layout may seem unusual to the uninitiated.  Don’t sweat it if you were expecting the sequential art of panel-to-panel design.  This book uses a much more frenetic style that works perfectly for the chaotic enviorment.  Often you will see whole pages rendered with one primary image and smaller action beats superimposed on top of it.  There are lots of floating scenes and close-ups but it helps to keep the simultaneous action focused – and lends itself perfectly well to the ensemble nature of this story.  While it is tempting for new readers of comic books to jump from word balloon to word balloon (especially when the writing is so crisp), The Worm advises you to take the time to study the backgrounds and sketched figures.  One scene in particular really shows the attention to detail:  It involves a group of lit students taking a class outdoors, under a tree.  In one section of the page the figures are just smudges in the background.  Pay attention to the postures and body language of each figure.  Because the lines and characters are so consistent, you will be able to tell who each figure is and what their place in the group is.  Even these seemingly inconsequential images communicate emotion and story.  Gorgeous.

The Writing:  Jason Aaron is on fire with Wolverine and the X-Men.  His plots are boilerplate comic book fare, but he tailors the action and the details to each character and this is what truly makes for a fun and exciting read.  Balancing an ensemble cast as large as this one is a giant task but Aaron pulls it off.  Regardless which character you find yourself rooting for, you will get everything you need from the writer.  Keeping the plots relatively simple (bad guys want to destroy the school) frees Aaron up to write a character-driven family story.  That is really what this book is… but with dirt monsters and mutant powers and pink hair.

The Characters:  Wolverine and the X-Men is chock a block with characters, but not so many that you will feel overwhelmed.  What this creative team does beautifully, through specific art and specific voices, is keep each character separate.  Broo would never be confused with Kid Gladiator, in look or in language.  Yet all the characters (students and teachers) blend to create the team vibe that stamps the book with its own personality.  While on the subject of character, I must admit to falling for Broo in a big way.  Sure, he is the clear sentimental favorite, but he earns it again and again.  Kid Gladiator has one of the funniest lines in the run during issue 7 and all I can say is it pertains to a new look.  The writing in this book is pitch perfect. 

The Sticky Wicket:  So here is the bummer, Worm Army:  Wolverine and the X-Men is  a Marvel comic and as such, it is inextricably tied to any Marvel events in progress or on the horizon.  What does this mean to you, newbie?  Well, you are going to get a taste of what has delighted publishers, plagued fans, and sucker-punched our wallets for years – The Event.  So it works like this… you happily read along with your favorite book and then BAM! something “so cataclysmic” occurs that it has repercussions throughout the entire comic book universe.  Something so paradigm-shifting (like a civil war or death of a pivotal character) happens that it causes each book, team, and hero to respond and deal with it.  There are cross-over titles, one-shots, mini-series, and team ups all over the place.  In the olden days events like this would be given a brief geek-nod in each continuing storyline and then recede into the background of your core book.  Not so much anymore.  You see, with that model, you could maybe explore more of the cross-over issues if you wanted to but it wasn’t necessary.  Nowadays, publishers force you to buy additional titles you never followed before – just so you can get the full “event” story.

Be not saddened.  With Wolverine and the X-Men, the upcoming event revolves around the Avengers battling the X-Men.  Marvel had garishly splashed AVX banners across the tops of their books for months , hyping this event.  I have not read beyond issue 7 in the Wolverine and the X-Men series but I have no intention of buying up all the cross-over books for AVX.  I never have (with Civil War and Fifty-Two being the exception) and I don’t intend to do start now.  I will continue to read Wolverine and the X-Men in order, without buying any of the other titles. If a book is strong, it will persevere and maintain character development through any ‘event’.  And, seriously, nothing will ever really change all that much once the event is over.  If it does, or if you have questions but not an extra twenty or thirty dollars, you can always pop on to a comic book podcast or Wikipedia to fill in the crucial gaps in your knowledge.

Don’t be disheartened about trying this fledgling series just because a mega-cross-over event is going to step all over it right out of the gate (around issue 8 or 9, I believe).  It’ll be okay.  If you do take my advice and try the first arc of Wolverine and X-Men, only to find the AVX event too distracting to continue… I’ll gladly refund your money.  Not the money you spent on the books, but whatever you paid me directly for recommending it.  Which is zero.  See how savvy I am?  I could work for Marvel.  Worm Out!

Molles drops us right into the action, but does so in a way that allows the reader to discover the circumstances and our protagonist (Lee) at the same time.  We are right there with him as he learns just what in the holy Hell is going down.  This is no battle scene or breathless flight – it is a controlled reveal with just the right amount of dread and exposition.  Molles tugs at a taut thread of mystery while giving us crucial information as our protagonist, Lee, receives it himself.  Yet he’s no hysterical victim.  Something is going on and Lee is at least partially prepared to face what awaits outside his door.  Hmmm.  Interesting.

Opening a familiar story this way keeps the reader utterly in the moment from the first page.  It also lets the reader know that Molles is aware they’ve read about plague zombies before – but this time it is going to be a little different.  After the first couple chapters I thought I was in a Hugh Howey/Robert Kirkman nirvana of PAZ bliss.  In a short timeline and with minimal exposition, Molles reveals Lee’s back story, purpose, and some of his psychology.  Then the tension starts to get to him and the anxiety is palpable.  Oh, and don’t expect it to let up until the final pages.

Good Stuff:  Molles knows how to set a pace and keep the reader white-knuckling it, without having to relentlessly throw our protagonist from one set piece to another.  Somehow the author maintains an inner tension that is deliciously uncomfortable, even when little is happening narratively.  And he isn’t doing it by accident.  The Remaining provides a lesson in how an author, who is completely in control of his concept, can tease and torment the reader without resorting to leaps in logic or cheap beats to move the action.  Early in the novel, our hero goes on a brief scouting mission prior to setting out from his bunker for good.  The entire sequence is dramatic and readers will find themselves holding their breath.  When the jump scare happens and the shit (sort of literally) hits the fan, Molles shows he is thoroughly in control of this shitstorm.  In scores of lessor novels, this hinge moment in the plot would have been where our hero rockets on to “the big adventures” that await.  He would be ill-prepared, but not unreasonably so.  He would be panicked and probably lose some equipment and/or his weapon.  That would have been predictable and okay, but Molles isn’t shooting for “okay” with The Remaining.  The author chooses to have Lee return to his bunker and regroup.  For a writer who didn’t have Molles’ grasp of his character and situation, letting up at this moment in the action would have been a cop out and likely a deal-breaker.  In Molles’ capable hands, returning to the bunker is exactly what the story calls for.  It fits Lee’s training and gives a moment to pause and consider the gravity of the situation, while letting the readers steep in the dread a bit longer.

The Tone:  Put Tom Clancy’s John Kelly character in Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend and set it in the Deliverance south.  Sound far out?  It is, but man does it work.  Molles has his military tactics down and a strong sense of geography, but what makes this PAZ tale sing (gurgle?) is the sense of character and motivation.  The protagonist is a 3 dimensional, breathing man who is going to take you on the adventure of a lifetime.

Biggest Surprise:  Tango the dog is amazing.  Regular readers know The Worm to be easily annoyed and often vocal about the misuse of animal characters in fiction.  They are either cutesy and pointless or a shameless homage to the author’s own pet fixation.  Molles gives us a dog that is a strong, realistic partner for our hero.

The Truth Will Out:  Molles is proficient with military spec, tactics, and jargon.  He is capable of weaving a tale on par with almost any popular horror writer.  He has a deep sense of characterization and chooses his moments and transitions with a meticulous care that reads as fluid and natural.  He even knows how to write an animal character that is neither cartoonish nor extraneous.

Here is what has got The Worm’s spidey sense tingling:  How is one guy so damned capable at doing so much in one work and making it all seem effortless?  Time to ‘fess up, Mr. Molles.  You have a secret bunker beneath your own home, where you are keeping a stable of near-starved novelists chained to laptops and writing for beef jerky and Diet Pepsi rations, don’t you?  If so, I say keep it up.  Maybe see if you can get your hands on a few who specialize in Lesfic, Young Adult books, and Westerns.  You might be on to something.  You have definitely managed to merge and elevate at least three different genres with this one novel so I say – do whatever it takes to keep it up.  What. Ever. It. Takes.

Worm Army, I cannot stress this enough… at $2.99 you absolutely will not find more entertaining bang for your reading buck.  Worm Out!  Sequel downloand begins in three…two… one.  We have Aftermath.  

Steiner has a strong grip on the multiple, disparate characters that populate her world of Laxamora.  She weaves together the intrigues and motivations of several key figures while never taking her eye off the larger narrative.  Mortis Unbound is simultaneously the story of government cover-up, magic run amok, and one man’s journey to make sense of it all and maybe fall in love.

Favorite Line:

The creature’s wings flared, but no bird outside of fantasy books had a wingspan that wide.

I appreciate the wink to the genre in this way.  Nice touch.

Favorite Characters:  From his first scene, Certos was the vox for me.  Steiner brings to life an immortal character that is heartbreaking and creepy at the same time.  (Think Haley Joel Osmont from A.I. and you’re close.)  His scenes, even when familiar, were some of the most compelling character moments in the novel.  Varil gets a nod, too.  She could have just been a kick-ass female assassin, but Steiner infused enough humanity and fallibility in her character to make her seem more human than stereotype.

One quick note about Mortis, herself:  She is less a character than a plot device so don’t let the title mislead you.  Yes, Mortis being unbound jump starts the narrative and she does serve a functionary role but has no actual agency or complex characterization.  This is most evident in a scene very near the end of the novel in which the characters of Phames and Liiran argue about whose fault it is that Mortis is in jeopardy.  It is a situation that Mortis herself initiated and their arguing about who is most to blame denies her the respect and tragic nobility of her own choice.  In fact, she is treated like a child throughout most of the novel, despite being the incarnation of Death.  (On this score, think Daryl Hannah in Splash.)

Issues:  Liiran is not The Worm’s favorite ‘hero.’  Yes, he is a human journalist trying to keep up with supernatural creatures of limitless power and immortality… but still.  Did he have to be so annoyingly stubborn and, frankly, stupid?  Time and time again he argues with and questions the voxae and their plans – even after he has seen them do incredible things like fly and bring him back from death.  It is understandable that a character would have a hard time assimilating quickly to these new facts of life, but it felt as if Steiner kept the character of Liiran around mostly for easy exposition and contrived tension.  He never really seemed mentally capable of contributing much to the action or plot.  The vox, Phames, refers to him as dead weight and despite Phames being sort of a hemorrhoidal prick himself, he has a point. 

***Begin Minor Spoiler Alert***

The most egregious example of Liiran’s selfish stupidity comes late in the novel.  During a rescue effort, he briefly wonders why Mortis (his love interest) is not part of his rescue team.  Soon after that, he declares his love for her to everyone but her.  Later, he returns to a frail Mortis and we find he is, once again, behind the conversational curve.  Mortis, Phames, and Varil are arguing about him and whether or not it is “time” to do something necessary.  Liiran has the nervey stupidity to ask, “Time for what?”  Really?  I know this is confusing to those who have not read the novel, and I don’t want to spoil anything outright because this is a fairly recent publication… but for those who are already in the know, let me just say this:  YOU understood exactly what the underlying dramatic tension of this scene was.  Our hero, clearly, had forgotten.  And then Liiran goes just one step further in cementing his candidacy for Annoying Asshat Supreme:  When Mortis explains her mortal dillema, Liaan’s first response is relief that she hadn’t missed the rescue because she didn’t care about him.  Instead, she has to remind him that she wasn’t there for reasons that Asshat Liiran shouldn’t have forgotten about in the first place.

***End Spoiler***

The Worm is, and always has been, quick to acknowledge a risk taker.  Steiner took some genuine thematic and genre-bending risks while creating the world of Mortis Unbound.  Her world building was confident and very scene/character specific, but the overall mosaic of Laxamora came off sketchy and without a strong sense of place or of tone.  Steiner does use an original fantasy concept as the underpinning conceit of her novel (mystical molecule technology.)  But subsequent genre-switching made it difficult to actually picture the world she had created.  It is an odd blend of grounded reality with a subtle Sci Fi alteration; a mythological construct; a world of wizarding; and a classic Sci Fi future (flying cars, etc.).  Because the tones and themes were sort of swirled together it was difficult to picture the larger world of Mortis Unbound as a truly cohesive, functioning place.  Like a mash-up of Blade Runner and Indiana Jones and Watchmen.  Weird.

The themes of the novel (which are, of course, closely allied with the world creation) are just as muddled.  The whiffs of slavery themes and environmental protection issues and logic/intelligence v. chaos/passion are there.  But it felt as if Steiner only had some fleeting impessions to impart and then never fully committed to or developed any of them.  Some of her commentary even felt mildly conflicting and/or inadvertently counterpoint to her own premises. 

This issue was most notable with regard to where Steiner landed on the whole slavery/freedom thing.  It feels like, when convenient for certain goals, slavery and oppression is okay.  When the baddie does it, it is no bueno.  Steiner even seemed to mildly imply that the vox heroes of our tale are really just larger, more complex versions of the enslaved vox critters that power society.  But wait, in the set-up of Steiner’s world, those little vox critters are replacements for science and energy and molecular reactions… so by extension is she suggesting we have enslaved technology and/or science?  But I though the mages and magic rune artists were the “scientists” of this world?  And their primary purpose seems to be manipulating the mythological deities (who do not understand magic at all) with their magical talents?  Grrrr.  It’s hurts just a little bit, right?

Steiner creates some of the same confusion again with regard the human/emotional lessons of the novel.  On the one hand she seems to have created creatures of four specific types.  But the four “characters” are War, Death, Order, and Chaos.  (I can hear my mom singing, “one of these things doesn’t belong here.”)  But, narratively we get to throw Love into the mix, so maybe that is supposed to be our balance.  Yet there are still plenty of confusing positions taken by characters and by the author.  Why these four aspects of humanity?  Are there others?  Is there supposed to a balance between the quartet?  Maybe it is safest not too look too hard for larger themes in this novel, as they do not follow through to their logical conclusions.  The author changes direction so often, thematically, that it is probably best just to buckle in and hold on for the ride.  It is still great fun – just don’t try to read the signposts as you go whizzing by.

The above issues also contribute to the internal logic problems of Mortis Unbound and what was most confusing about Steiner’s approach.  I don’t know that there are any plot holes or motivation issues specifically, but narratively the novel loses some of its punch by not adhering to an established physics or philosophy.  We get quasi-explanations from the realms of science; from mythology; and from pure spiritual fantasy.  The problem I had with this approach was that I wasn’t able to anticipate or feel satisfied by the turns the story took and the resolutions crafted.  If an author gives herself that many narrative escape hatches, the tale can become too much of an endless round of ”because I said so.”

Final Thoughts:  You’ll rip through this one because in Mortis Unbound, the story is the thing.  Steiner tells a fast-moving, visual action story.  There is not a lot to linger over in regards to literary style or clever wordplay.  In fact, may phrases can be anticipated as you turn the page – but turn it you will.  For some reason (perhaps because of the quickly stacked action beats and scene changes) the occasionally trite phrasing and stock imagery slide down easily.  You won’t slow for metaphor-laden passages in this book; and you won’t mind the easily conjured images and familiar descriptions because this one is all about character and plot.  Its a terrific good time, easy to process, but impossible to keep ahead of.  Good stuff, if for no other reason that we got to meet Certos.  The sequel is already alive in The Worm’s mind… Certos Unhinged, maybe?  I’d sign up for that.

I need to thank the Adventures in Sci Fi Publishing podcast for the recommendation on this one.  It is entirely possible that the constant promotion may have set my expectations too high, but it was a decent Sci Fi/Fantasy/Political/Military/Philosophical romantic thriller.  Out!

Right from the start this book moves in the way all the best post-apocalyptic tales do.  We get a seriously screwed up situation and very normal people making do.  Everybody is a bit off kilter, but our protagonist (Mia Price) isn’t acting as observer or crusader.  She is trying to keep herself and her family alive.  Simple.  Complicated.  Real.  As if surviving riot situations, looters, destruction of civilization, militia men, and natural disaster is not enough to get your motor running… our teenage heroine has a tiny sci fi affliction all her own.  She is addicted to lightning strikes.  Like, to actually being struck.  Sweet.

Its been years (decades?) since I read Shadowland by Peter Straub, but it is the novel I most thought of while reading this one.  There is just something about the way Bosworth has joined the fantastic/horror elements of her tale with the grounded reality of every day life… there isn’t a denial of the fantastic, but a very honest reticence to engage in it.  People still need to eat, teenage thugs are still wackos, and society is crumbling before a potential cataclysmic cleansing.  And yet for a few moments, Mia can indulge in a little boy-crush.  And I buy it in this novel and with this character.  That’s down to the author’s pacing and skill.  In Daniel Marks’ Velveteen there was also an attempt to combine whimsy/fantasy with real world scenarios but it was much more jarring in that novel.  Here it works gorgeously.

If I had to diagram our heroine on a characterization chart, I would put her somewhere between Lauren from Parable of the Sower and Jess from Dust.  She isn’t quite as hard as Lauren and not nearly as bratty and self-centered as Jess.  Mia is sort of pitch perfect for the novel Bosworth has written.  Throw in some Beyond Thunderdome- type societal breakdown and you get an idea of what is in store for you with Struck.

Favorite Scenes:  Mia going to Tentville to get psyche meds for her mother.  That has to be one of the best visuals.  The purple tent… the very “Bartertown-ness” of it all… Sort a Jim Morrison-meets Grace Jones-at Burning Man vibe.

There is another scene in the novel that is pivotal to plot development, so I won’t spoil it… but I do want to call attention to a nice bit of technique that Bosworth uses there.  She has a character delivering some needed exposition to another and during the scene the prose is interrupted with the world shuffle.  Visually the cue works like you would expect… very film-friendly and the equivalent of a cut-away or some carefully inserted second unit work in a movie… but after reading the passage, I came to appreciate the style for different reasons.  It develops a visual texture to the scene for sure, but also provides a nice breather during the exposition, while punching the tension up a notch with each new shuffle.  The repetition of one word a few times in one scene in one chapter.  It isn’t a gimmick Bosworth uses throughout the book.  It is not spotlit and self-conscious.  But damn it is effective.  Perhaps I have geeked too long about this relatively minor feature… but as the Worm Army knows – this is where the good stuff is.  These are the controlled flourishes that bump something good into something great. 

Of course the final two climactic scenes are on the list of great ones, but I have no intention of spoiling anything about them.  The visuals and sense of urgency are wicked cool, though.

 Favorite Lines: 

“We’re all brothers and sisters in the eyes of the Lord,” Rachel said. “Uh-huh.” I preferred a less incestuous worldview, but I kept that thought to myself.

…Team Apocalypse…

Bonfires blazed at intervals along the beach, firelight turning the walls of the White Tent an eerie pumpkin color. Hundreds of figures in white streamed like a river of milk over the sand toward it.

That above bit takes me back to some of the creepy imagery in the 1990′s film Flatliners.  Don’t play.  You know you saw it.  Remember the kids in sheets on their bikes, riding around a courtyard at dusk?  It seems it was slowed down just enough to really make those robes flow?  Eh… another Worm tangent… but still.

Final Thoughts:  Bosworth has given us a crackling fast action thriller replete with wizards (sorta’), sci fi (sorta’), conspiracy (for sure), and relatable young adults to cheer for.  Do I really need to tell you any more than that?  Okay – how about this?  Struck has potential to be a great series, or at the very least lead into a fantastic sequel.  But it doesn’t have to.  I can go on with my life happy to keep Mia and her Struck adventures tucked away in my memory as a satisfying story.  If Struck does lead to a sequel, I will read it, but not because Struck’s story is incomplete.  I’ll read it because Bosworth has convinced me that if she has a story she wants to tell, I damn well want to read it.  Worm Out!

Summerland starts her novel off in a twitchy, incomplete way.  There are plenty of questions posed and really no good answers given until a couple chapters in.  That can be a great beginning for a thriller, but the degree to which Summerland kept the reader in the dark about inconsequential things was annoying.  The entire first chapter details our protagonist (Kasey) going about her business and doing her “job” in Martin’s Bluff.  Problem?  I couldn’t for the life of me discern just what Kasey’s job was. Did she work for a cable company?  The Geek Squad?  A detective agency?  Is she the town psychic?  I’m not being sarcastic… each of these possibilities presented themselves and it became a little too deliberately confusing.  How old is Kasey?  That isn’t made clear until the third or so chapter and, thankfully, before the romance begins.  In a book already centered around genuine mysteries, these unnecessary omissions started to feel more like a game the author was playing with the reader than like an attempt at controlled, character-driven reveals.

Fortunately, Summerland decides to knock out the important details and allows the reader to get into the core mysteries of the novel after the first few chapters.  There are two central mysteries in Like Dark Minds and they are;  1) what the hell happened to Kasey and her family to make her the emotional wreck and town pariah she is; and 2) who is the serial killer and why does he have it in for Kasey?

Of course, being a semi-lesbomance novel, we get more than just a crime thriller and family drama.  There is the burgeoning romance between FBI agent Gina and our victim/heroine, Kasey.  But where this book really shines is in it’s commitment to the primary issues.  The romance is balanced and largely unobtrusive.  Summerland does not rely heavily on lesbian themes and trite plot points about acceptance.  She writes two strong women who are motivated and also happen to be falling in love.  You won’t scorch your eyeballs reading any smoking hot love scenes in Like Dark Minds.  But you will find yourself hoping the two characters work things out – after the primary conflicts are resolved.

The Good:  The extremely (and painfully) realistic circumstances of Kasey’s status and attitude toward life.  Summerland did not use any beat melodramatic reasons for her discontent.  There is something entirely personal and relatable to how Kasey developed into the character we meet in Like Dark Minds.

Shockingly, the cat character (Lunar) was entirely acceptable to The Worm.  He earned a chuckle or two.

Rangley was a refreshingly effective, fleshed-out male lead in a lesbian fiction thriller.

The Issues:  This is another one of those stories wherein the younger female lead is bratty and stubborn and difficult.  And for some reason the other female lead finds this irresistible.  I s’pose.  It does wear thin after reading a ton of lesfic, though.  A little give and take tension is fun, but it seems lately we (the collective lesbian literary community) has fallen into the cheat of bratty equalling adorable.  Summerland doesn’t hit the note as hard as some authors with similar characters, but hit it she does.  Kasey has issues that are genuinely interesting, but in spots her character reads like a toddler.  That would be alright if she were then treated like one, but instead every adult character puts up with it and even finds it endearing.  To a point.  But Summerland tactfully pulls Kasey back from the bratty abyss just in time and then treats the reader to some genuine motivation and evolution of the character.  Yeay, Summerland! 

Final Thoughts:  This book is fun, moves along nicely, and has decent action moments.  The Worm gets the sense that Summerland actually wanted to tell a story about more than just two female characters falling in love.  Whopping kudos for that.  There is not a lot in this short book that is unique or inventive but the action is solid and The Worm was caught up in the rush to the climax.  Like Dark Minds doesn’t work the gray matter into a lather and it won’t keep you up at night wondering about the fate of our heroines.  But it is a decent little morsel that can be shelved with other established lesfic works of similar tone and style.  It won’t change your life, break the bank (at $5 for Kindle or free on Prime), or rock your emotional foundation.  But sometimes a small bite of romantic crime drama with a lesbionic bent just hits the spot, ya’ know?  If you have torn through all your Ali Vali Devil novels and already read Lucifer Rising by Sharon Bowers, or even the Justice series by Radclyffe… this one will work nicely as a place holder until new novels by those authors are released.  The sex is far less graphic; the romance not as prominent; and the emotional make-up of characters a bit more nuanced than in those works.  Check it out if you dig those lesbocop romances.  If not – this tale isn’t going to bring you around on that particular sub-genre.  Worm Out!

That being said, however, it does quickly become exactly what one might expect from a young girl-as-badass-supernatural-demon hunter tale.  Not a bad thing, but maybe a misleading thing given the tone of the opening scenes.  We start this novel with a eerily realistic depiction of a savage serial killer and some deep psychological issues for our protagonist.  Meaty stuff – pun totally intended.

While the darkly Diagon Alley – type society Marks has created in this novel is well crafted, the real tension and creep-out factor is definitely provided by the Bonesaw portions of the story.  Sadly, those very well-written sections of the novel set incredibly high stakes and genuine sympathy for the characters.  (Doesn’t sound like a sad accomplishment for an author, does it?)  The difficulty is in the transition from those opening scenes to the more familiar fantasy aspects of the story.  I found it hard to get particularly invested in the gee-whiz aspects of Marks’ fantasy world and it’s internal logic – because the stakes of what we’d left behind were just too distractingly horrifying.

Look, I know – fantasy is fantasy and in Young Adult books there are certain expectations from the protagonists.  Especially if they are female.   And Marks handles the fantasy/magic elements adequately, as he does the goth heroine.  But his choice to include a genuinely scary plot line (Bonesaw) is what makes this novel more than just a Kim Harrison meets Ghostbusters retread.  Incorporating the horror elements early in the novel made what followed shallow and silly – at least in terms of tone.  Don’t tease me with Clive Barker and then give me Joss Whedon. 

After the page-searing WTF opening, the main character (Velvet) takes in the horror and then moves on to the business of playing ghost hunter in a different storyline altogether.  And she does this for several chapters.  Since her snarky personality is predictably consistent and so much time is devoted to world-building (an obvious necessity), the reader is left thinking, “Yeah, Velvet, you’re super cool.  What about the girl chained to the chair and about to be mutilated?!”

This was an odd read.  That Marks has talent is evident from the opening lines of the novel.  He does the horror of Bonesaw incredibly well.  He does the one-liner bitchy badass well.  His team of ghost hunters is fun in a Scooby-Doo way and each character is clearly delineated.  So what’s the problem?  I’m not sure these different elements worked well together in one novel.

I might have come to care more about Velvet’s own growth if Bonesaw’s victim weren’t in the picture.  (Boy troubles don’t really have the same gravitas as imminent, graphic torture and murder.)  I might have enjoyed the world building more if, again, the stakes in the real world weren’t so high and the stakes in the supernatural world so relatively low.  (More on that later.)  And it is conceivable I could have cared, yet again, about the tougher-than-nails bad girl melting for the cute boy – if Velvet didn’t have more to worry about at the time.  (Did I mention the young victim chained to a chair?)

So I’m tempted to think that, as much as I adored the mystery and reveal in the opening scenes, Marks might have wanted to pull back a bit on the level of horror and dread if for no other reason than to even out the story overall.  The man wrote a haunting vignette with quirk and true suspense.  Maybe he did it too well?  Being rocketed from that level of investment to the Space Mountain styled, rip-roaring ride through the supernatural world that follows was just distracting.  I was willing to hang in there for a bit, but it honestly began to feel as if the problems of the victim (whom Velvet vowed to save) are forgotten by the author AND Velvet for much too long.  Nearly half the novel!

All in all, Marks wrote two very differently realized stories in one book.  He wrote both well (my money is still more on the mystery/horror story) and either tone would have been fine, but The Worm was confused and ultimately feeling let down until the climactic combining of the stories.  If a novel is going to start that freaking strongly, and with such mature subject matter, it cannot resort to familiar Potter-esque tropes and lighthearted antics as bombast until the dramatic climax.  It left The Worm wondering exactly who the audience for this book is.  It also left me asking what the message is.  Was the suggested violence of the opening just a gimmick to lend weight to an otherwise typical Buffy-like story?  Or, as it seems from Marks’ tone, is the reader supposed to just accept that shit happens and a girl’s gruesome murder is just another grim aspect of Velvet’s interesting and busy day?  If the latter is the case, Marks shouldn’t have written those bits so god damned well!

Issues:  It was never quite clear, from either the character reactions nor from exposition, exactly what sort of threat the Shadowquake implied.  I mean, I get that if the tendrils touch one of the souls in Purgatory that soul experiences and remembers their greatest fear.  But what then?  They don’t die again, and it seems that once the threat is neutralized, the soul is restored.  Worse, the response to the treat (by Velvet and her team) is one of “no big deal – we got this.”  There is time for joking and posturing, etc.  So even they don’t seem to take it all that seriously, even tossing two innocent souls outside a train for the tendrils to attack so they can steal their seats.  That is perhaps the biggest problem I have with this type of tale generally, and Velveteen in particular.  The teen leads always take EVERYTHING in stride.  Particularly, for some reason, if they are female.  That sort of attitude can say something about the character if the threat is something anybody would fear (serial killer, tsunami, disease, you know – icky stuff grounded in a common experience).  But when seeing them react to something fanciful, the reader needs more sense of the fear or threat to determine what our nonchalant characters’ behavior means -about both the threat and about the characters. 

Geek Out Moment:  I am old enough to think Manny was an awesome  choice for the station agent character.  And calling her Manny?  Sweet!

Final Thoughts:  Velveteen starts superbly; languishes in the fantasy commonplace for too long; and then careens into a satisfying, if predictable, conclusion.  Younger readers may be horrified by the graphic nature and sobriety of some of the Bonesaw scenes, but fascinated by the hi jinks in the afterlife world.  Older readers may feel they’ve stumbled upon a truly inventive Young Adult story, only to be disappointed by the familiar fantasy world-building and character development.  Marks handles both types of novel well and his writing is easy and natural.  The stylistic mash-up just didn’t quite gel.  That being said, I get the feeling this is just an experimental misfire for the author, and not a reflection on his work overall.  Despite being disappointed with Velveteen, The Worm would not be opposed to giving Daniel Marks another try.  Out!

What Hunter does exceedingly well (specificity of language) elevated Snowbound but was used to minimal effect in Desolation Point.  Hunter soars when she includes quick-fire medical jargon to create tension and verisimilitude to her scenes.  Early in Desolation Point, Hunter uses two parallel tragedies to great effect.  Her medics and other first responders bark urgent, professional dialog to communicate the desperation of their scenes without slowing things down to explain every comment or order.  This is one of Hunter’s great skills.  Using such specificity, she allows the reader to sense the tension while still being able to focus on the lead characters’ predicaments.  It also gives the reader some credit that they can decipher what is happening through context.

Shortly after this brilliant start though, Hunter shifts the scene to a remote mountain range in the American Northwest and away from Hunter’s own geographic and cultural comfort zone.  Mad props go to the author for stretching herself.  The only thing The Worm knew prior to reading this novel was that Hunter had some concerns about writing an American character and American dialog.  So when reading Desolation Point, I was perhaps overly aware of the few spots where this ‘translation’ felt wonky.  (Like Americans not knowing what Cadbury chocolate was.  What would Easter be without those delicious little overpriced eggs?)  These sorts of clunky bits were not too bad as they didn’t take away from the story and were even used to mildly satisfying, if predictable, character moments later.

What was a smidgen off-putting, to this American reader, was the heavyhanded way Hunter has her characters commenting on each other’s cultural differences.  If one character prefers to draw a bath, while another runs one - or one character has an arse and another an ass, it really didn’t require both commenting on the differences through valuable dialog.  British phrasing and American phrasing are different.  Some of the words are different but the vast majority of readers know those differences, enjoy them, and are at the very least smart enough to figure them out contextually.  Where Hunter trusts her readers to absorb the medical jargon, she gets nervous and slightly precious about the  British v. American speech.  Time and again (more frequently as the novel progresses) these quasi-jokes felt flat and wildly inappropriate given the dire circumstances Hunter put her protagonists in.

The Worm was an easy convert to Hunter’s style of writing and grown-up subject matter in Snowbound.  She created a crime story that had legs, and a romance that didn’t overshadow the adventure/thriller aspects of the novel.  In Desolation Point, it seems Hunter clung to the most uncomfortable aspects of her writing style (the in-your-face harshness and physical abuse) but skimped somewhat on the tight plotting that made the violence in Snowbound contextually palatable.  I like that Cari Hunter takes chances with her subject matter and tone – but after reading Desolation Point I fear that shocking violence against women has become the foundation for her writing, rather than an example of how far she is willing to go to create real characters.  Relentless abuse gets tiring and eventually feels, well, just mean.  Her guts to BE ruthless with characters is what has appeal – not the violence itself.  It would be nice to see Hunter use her bravery in other literary directions as well.

This armchair editor feels Desolation Point could have kept a tighter pace and allowed Hunter to do what she does best (vignette-styled emergency responder scenes) if one more perspective were included in the novel – that of a Search and Rescue chopper pilot or team leader.  Throughout the bulk of the novel, Hunter transitions between the Big Bad doing the chasing and Our Heroes doing the running.  I don’t know if Hunter really felt much like writing the Big Bad at all.  Every time the reader is taken to his camp, it feels one-note and not too terribly menacing.  Even as the role of baddie is played by increasingly nasty dudes, they are never particularly scary.  Sure, they do horrendous, torturous things to our two protagonists – but somehow the pain our leads feel doesn’t directly correlate to fear of the bad guys.  (Perhaps because everything in their world is out to kill them?)

Cuts between our predator and prey might have felt more tense and dramatic if there were also cutaways to a rescue party.  For one, it would have given us some of the exposition and description we needed for drama (storms, washed out trails, animals, lost signals, etc.) without it having to be so confined to just Alex/Sarah’s POV and a sprinkling of the bad guy thinking he’s just GOT to get that naughty girl.

When our protags see dark clouds coming, we are with them as they discuss what it could mean because there is no other logical way for Hunter to describe circumstances to the reader.  All the danger has to be set up for us through our heroines’ eyes.  But it becomes numbing to have them discuss their geography and weather conditions and THEN have to react to them.  Tension could have been much stronger if those conditions and plot twists could have been set up more dramatically by Search and Rescue personnel, freeing our protagonists to be already dealing with crisis when we return to them.  This additional POV would also have allowed Hunter to do what she is amazingly good at… quick, impactful technical information that lends drama and grounds the story in reality.  Play to your strengths, I say!  And really there is no better case to be made for this suggestion than a look back at Snowbound.  Hunter included scenes of search parties and police throughout that novel and it helped to keep everything in perspective.  It also let our characters be themselves in action, rather than forcing them to set the table for us over and over again.

While reading this review, it may come off as if Desolation Point was a disappointing read.  It wasn’t.  But it is a disappointing Cari Hunter read.  It seems as if she has abandoned much of what set her apart and then chose to write something more in line with what readers of lesbian fiction have come to expect.  Desolation Point felt like it was written by the real Cari Hunter only in the initial chapters and in a few bright spots toward the end.  I’m hoping and praying that this is simply a result of the author wanting to incorporate an American character so badly that she ended up writing a typical American lesbian adventure story.  I already have The Target, by Gerri Hill and countless K.G. MacGregor and Georgia Beers novels on my bookshelf.  When I grab for work by one of my favorite British authors I am hoping for more than arses over asses.  I’m counting on the work to have a different style, tone and direction than what I have been reading for the last fifteen years or so in American fiction.

Put simply, Desolation Point (and Cari Hunter) are fearless enough to beat the living shit out of the characters… repeatedly.  I need Hunter to be fearless enough to also give us a novel that doesn’t pander to expectations of an audience that wants everything made better by a couple Tylenol and easy resolution.  Had this book been Snowbound, I feel like it would have ended with the Kip scene near the end.  (Avoiding spoilers.)  Hunter has shown she can write adult women well – I can’t fathom why these characters were written so shallowly or why Hunter needed to include the formulaic set ups and hammy resolutions in the last chapters.  The whopping majority of ink in Desolation Point goes to violence and pain – psychic or physical.  Very little goes into telling the reader what in Holy Hell these two women find so appealing in each other.  Yeah, they go through some intense shit together.  But unlike the characters in Snowbound, these women never seem to use those circumstances to demonstrate any distinct personality or source for their love.  Both are uber heroic and sensitive – largely because the environment calls for it.  I guess that’s it?  I mean, yes, they both went through some deeply traumatic stuff in their prior lives, but if Hunter wanted to do an exploration of how those tragedies could have worked on the psyches of these two women who then fell in love with each other, she didn’t need a lunatic, a prison break, and a monster storm to explore it.

Lesbomance Checklist:  Okay, kiddies… just for fun, here’s the rundown:  We have a dog named Kip who doesn’t really need to be here; we have an androgynous name (Alex); we have natural disaster cutting our heroines off and allowing them to fall in love; we have independent wealth (or at least the suggestion of it) several times over; we have a hint of elbow-throwing and juvenile gamboling to communicate affection between women.

What we also have is an accurate and believable depiction of women who actually work and seem to know what they are doing; and we have a male character in Walt that is NOT trying to change, admonish, or harass our heroine.

Great Moments:  The dialog between Walt and Alex was extremely natural and endearing without being saccharine.

It was also nice to see a different kind of bad guy for lesbian fiction (it is usually the religeous fanatic or serial rapist).

The way both leads recovered from and moved beyond their initial tragedies to get on with life was appreciated.  Hunter wrote these scenes very matter-of-factly, which created sort of an early respect and affinity toward both women.  There was an implied courage and strength that didn’t depend on spelling it out for the reader – what wasn’t written was far more telling that what could have been.  These are the moments where Hunter’s scene choices separate her from the pack.

Thin Spots:  The bad guy was a nice idea, but then Hunter did little with it.  She did not seem to have much grasp of the types of people who live in our bad guy’s world – and to anyone with any workplace or personal experience with this type of group – the character felt like a cheat.  Like a “monster-of-the-week” choice without much spine or grit.  It seemed he was chosen at random, merely to fill a necessary role in this tale.  Hunter’s ear for dialog, combined with the way she writes when she is in her comfort zone, could have made our Big Bad truly frightening.  Maybe more research into the bad guy until she was comfortable with him?  Or chosing something she already knows about?  Putting a sheet over a guy’s head and asking him to wave his arms around does not automatically make him scary.  So little effort can result in a character more akin to Casper than a Klansman.

Final Thoughts:  Hunter’s style remains her own and is a critical part of the emerging mosaic of renewed lesbian fiction.  Take heart, Worm Army… Cari Hunter can be found  in Desolation Point.  You will just have to look harder for her amidst the more familiar set pieces of past lesbian fiction.   If Hunter returns to the aspects of her writing that make her stand out from the herd, she has the potential to be a fantastic contributor to the evolving world of contemporary fiction.

I’m feeling optimistic today, so I will probably sign-on for the sequel to Desolation Point.  I am just fervently hoping the real – and fully realized – Cari Hunter writes it.  I pick up her books for a British author’s take, even if the characters and settings are American.  It is far too soon, in what I anticipate will be a long writing career, for Hunter be rejecting her own voice for pat, easily digested American formula.