Ever watch Scooby Doo? Ever wish that once, just once, it wasn’t a man in a mask- but instead something darker and more sinister then the gang had ever imagined? Something that haunted them for years later, stalked them no matter how far they ran, or how much they hid. Called them back after years of denial to finally solve the mystery, the real mystery, of their last case together.
Then this book is for you.
Hilarious, action packed, tense, and frightening, this story throws you in the mine cart and sends you down that abandoned shaft at eighty miles an hour. Just hang on, because the corners are tight and the speed keeps building- this is one hell of a ride.
Book Review: Aftermath: Empire’s End by Chuck Wendig
You can read my reviews for the previous installments of the trilogy here (part one), and here (part two).
Warning: Spoilers for the first two books of the series under the cut!
How does an Empire collapse? How do the pieces fall, one by one, pursued across planets and galaxies, till they are scattered and broken, remnants of shadows to fill the pages of history.
How does it rise again?
How do people rebuild? Not just cities and homes, but hearts and hope? How do they set aside their fear and prejudice, their thirst for justice skewed through the longing for revenge? How does one leave behind all those coffins in the sky, like unlit satellites, orbital memorials to friend and foe.
An amalgamation of tragedy and celebration, of eternity and mortality, of love and hate and envy and depression and hope. This debut collection of poems by Chinese American author Chen Chen takes you from China to Texas to New York state, from moonlit tree tops to silent kitchens, from the city to the forest.
These poems are testimonies to the small things that we collect throughout our day, and those moments in life that define us, whether we want them to or not. Chen speaks of being an immigrant, an immigrant’s child, gay, and not-white. He speaks of unrequited love, the pain of not being excepted by family and peers, the crushing weight of world that does not allow you to celebrate who you are, and is breaking in so many ways…
“You have a destiny. You aren’t allowed to know it.”
Where to begin? There is a part of me incoherent with the amount of pleasure I got out of reading this book. There is a part of me that wants to yell and hit inanimate objects because I liked it so much. I am relatively self contained though, and reluctant to startle my cat.
What is this? It’s the story of Numair Salmalin, when he was still the child Arram Draper. It is the tale of a boy who will grow to become the greatest mage his world has ever seen. He will battle monsters, confront dragons, cross into the very Realms of the Gods- but first, he must attend school.
Spoilers for The Song of The Lioness and The Immortals Quartet…
(You can read my review for the first installment in this series here)
We’re back for round two with The Pennsylvania Pen Monkey and it’s a fantastic, blaster filled romp from planet to planet that left me feeling as much a part of Norra Wexley’s team as Jas or Sinjir. Mostly Sinjir, because I am not cool or athletic enough to be Jas. But I can see myself wandering space getting punched in the face.
Things are going pretty well for The New Republic- one after another, the pockets of Imperial resistance are falling, and peace is returning slowly to the galaxy. But for some, the battles have not ceased, and war has left many debts in it’s wake.
Oh, how I wanted to like this book. Oh, how I set forth into it’s pages with the golden promise of a beautiful dawn setting my path aglow. Anchored fast by the scores of joyous online reviews and the exuberance of one of the employees of my local bookstore, who was a veritable font of praise and excitement at seeing this book about to be devoured by another soon-to-be-delighted reader.
Little did I know the road that had lead so many others to happiness and satisfaction would lead me to the cliffs of hollow obligation and disappointment.
First of all, allow me to say that this was a beautiful story, even though (as Mr. Rothfuss says) it does not do the things a traditional story does. It is nonetheless pure delight, and hard to put down because of it. Some people were disappointed in this novella because of it’s lack of focus on Kvothe, or because they feel Mr. Rothfuss should only work on the next novel of the King Killer Chronicles- this story is not for them.
As the Afterward says, this book is for all the fucked up people, you can look into this fragmented story and see a reflection of yourself, like a mirror shattered on the ground. There were moments I had to put the book down and simply be amazed at how perfectly Patrick Rothfuss got it, how he captured in words the frantic-bird-flight of the heart, the way the world suddenly turns on it’s head, comes rushing at you all at once, and every press of cloth, every shaft of light, feels like daggers to the throat. But he also captured moonlight with his words, cartwheels and soft songs. You have to read it to understand, and even then you might not- but I firmly believe it’s worth it to dive into the darkness with Auri, to see and feel the world alongside her, as she waits for a visit from Kvothe…