Vampirates 5: Empire of Night, by Justin Somper
WARNING: this book begins with a significant development! Do not read further if you are worried about being spoiled! Short review: The book is fun and worth a read.
Now, with that out of the way, Vampirates: Empire of Night is the fifth book in the carnival ride that is Justin Somper’s Vampirates series. This book begins with a death, which, as we all know from the previous Vampirates books, is perhaps not as much a barrier to continued conversation and scheming as it might appear at first. Lady Lola Lockwood, recently beheaded by Connor Tempest, is reunited with her lower half and her new husband, and she and Sidorio begin to plan out their new Empire of Night, an Empire that Sidorio wants Grace and Connor to be a part of. Soon after, Grace and Connor, orphaned twins, friends to pirates and a few, select, vampires, and main focus of the series, are back, and the details they have just learned of their parentage have shaken their world down to the foundations. They have gone their separate ways, Connor to the pirates, and Grace to the pacifist vampires on the Nocturnal, but the twins feel that some deeper destiny is calling them, and that they have a responsibility to those around them to follow it.
Grace’s thoughts turned to Sidorio and his original donor, Sally–Grace’s own mother–and then to Stukeley and his donor Shanti. Both Sally and Shanti had passed on now. Sidorio and Stukeley were forging their own, dark, command. And the Captain was missing. So much change but, inside Grace’s head, the five of them lingered in the room like ghosts at the feast.
Grace and Connor have choices to make. As the pirates and the Nocturnals become embroiled in a war with Sidorio’s Vampirates, Grace and Connor receive invitations to live with Sidorio and Lady Lola. Will they be able to stay true to their roles of spies and fool Sidorio and Lady Lola? Will they begin to give into their dual nature and put themselves, and those they love, in danger? No matter what they decide, neither Connor nor Grace will make it through this experience unchanged. Read more
Empire of the Moghul: Raiders from the North, by Alex Rutherford
With Conn Iggulden having demonstrated the appetite of the British reading public for thrilling to the exploits of ancient conquerors, first with his Rome series and latterly with his Ghengis Khan books, Alex Rutherford is well positioned to take advantage: this enjoyable tale is the first in a series of novels about the Moghul Empire, established in the Indian Subcontinent by the hero of this book, the young Prince Babur. As a descendant of the great Emperor Timur (aka Tamerlane), Babur feels he had greatness in his veins, and as his grandmother will never let him forget, they are also descendants of Ghengis Khan too, via his mother – thus this is an excellent way to follow the later ramifications of the continent spanning campaigns of the Great Khan.
Babur is born to the life of a royal heir, but is thrust in to the position of power prematurely at the age of thirteen, ruling the kingdom of Ferghana after his father dies in a freak accident. It’s a small kingdom, the empire built by Timur having been split between various descendants, and Babur covets the neighbouring territory of Samarkand, seat of Timur’s power – so much so that he contrives to conquer it, and lose it, on several occasions. Babur’s early reign is characterised by brief periods of good fortune followed by serious reversals, to the extent that he becomes at one point a stateless prince with no more than a few hundred followers. It would all sound pretty far-fetched, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was based very closely on real events, as recorded by Babur himself, in Islam’s first known instance of an autobiography.
If The Dead Rise Not, by Philip Kerr
The sixth but to my mind the least successful of Philip Kerr’s fantastic Bernie Gunther series.
As has been the way since Bernie Gunther’s return in A Quiet Flame, the action in If The Dead Rise Not is split between Berlin in the 30s and Latin America in the 1950s. Gunther is still a hugely engaging character, a German Philip Marlowe, forced out of the police for being unable to keep his smart alec mouth in check. Still around because he’s good and can just about keep his head above water. Other people’s heads are a different matter entirely.
The first two thirds are set in the prestigious Hotel Adlon where Gunther is the house detective during the build up to the Berlin Olympics. The usual run of theft and prostitution is disrupted by the arrival of a gregariously dangerous American and the Berlin Olympic organising commitee, in town to divvy up construction contracts.
The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, by N.K. Jemisin
Mortals mixing with their gods is not exactly a new idea in fantasy writing, but with her debut novel, the first instalment of the obligatory trilogy, N.K Jemesin shows an ability to make the idea work extremely well – there are genuine echoes of ancient Greek and Norse mythology, with gods and mortals rubbing shoulders, each envious of the others inherent strengths. In her heroine, Yeinne Darr, the author has created a character readers can relate to – neither improbably skilled nor preternaturally attractive, she is thrust in to a maelstrom of magic and politics where all sides are out to manipulate her – the equally beguiling and repellent floating city of Sky.
Yeine is from the barbarian north of her world, and, we gradually learn, from an intriguing Amazon-like people where gender stereotypes are reversed and women have all the power and the responsibility. She has been summoned to Sky by her grandfather, Dekarta Arameri, the head of the family that rules the world – the Hundred Thousand Kingdoms – from Sky. As effective High Priest to the god Bright Intempas, the aged Dekarta wields huge power – specifically, the ability to command other gods who fought a war against Intempas and lost: Kurue, Zhakkarn, the childlike Sieh and most importantly of all Nahadoth, one of the Three, the god of Darkness. Not for nothing are these imprisoned gods known as weapons.
Fool, by Christopher Moore
Even if the mere thought of a new offering from Christopher Moore, author of such hilariously satirical novels as Bloodsucking Fiends and Island of the Sequined Love Nun, isn’t enough to set readers’ imaginations whirling, the brilliant blurb on the back of Fool is sure to do the trick:
This is a bawdy tale. Herein you will find gratuitous shagging, murder, spanking, maiming, treason, and heretofore unexplored heights of vulgarity and profanity … If that’s the sort of thing you think you might enjoy, then you have happened upon the perfect story!
In writing Fool, Christopher Moore has set himself quite a challenge – he has attempted a radical (and rascally) reimaging of King Lear, one of Shakespeare’s most revered tragedies. As unlikely as it may sound, however, Moore has pulled off his foray into surrealist Shakespearean satire with great aplomb. Fittingly, given Moore’s desire to turn tragedy into comedy, the narrator of Fool is King Lear’s court jester. The eponymous Fool is Pocket, a short of stature and shorter still of morals foundling, who was raised in a nunnery until various nefarious teenage shenanigans led to his being turn out to earn a living through his wits. Being a multi-talented fellow – he can caper, insult, throw knives, forge letters and even make the melancholy Princess Cordelia chortle – Pocket found employment at the court of the unwitting and indeed witless King of the Britons, Lear. Unfortunately for Pocket, while the fool can do no wrong in the eyes of the King, just about every other original Shakespearean character wants to kill him.
Isolarion: A Different Oxford Journey, by James Attlee
This is the book that I wanted to write.
Like those books that tackle one subject thoroughly, and thereby pull in all of history – the potato, the pencil, Cod – Attlee has described the street in which he lives – a down at heel main artery into the cloistered city centre of Oxford – Cowley Road. He has explored the people who inhabit this street, their stories, tales and religions. Plus the story of the street itself – its history and changing fortunes.
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Jasmyn, by Alex Bell
Alex Bell’s Jasmyn is one of those novels with a backstory as compelling as the action it chronicles. It begins with Jasmyn, despairing in her grief over the sudden death of her husband. She abandons herself to her sadness and barely manages to interact with anyone at the funeral. Jasmyn’s grief may not be the only reason the world around her has ceased making sense though, as the funeral is interrupted when black swans tumble from the sky to fall dead onto the coffin below.
Jasmyn’s life continues to be upsetting and strange. She is threatened by a visitor who claims to know her husband, the photos in her wedding album show a woman screaming, and it becomes clear that her husband kept a life apart from the one they shared. All of this shatters what little composure she has left, and Jasmyn tries to flee to her grandparents’ house, and then California, in an attempt to run from the horror that her life has become.
Her husband’s death, and the events that led to it, continue to chase Jasmyn, and soon she must join with her brother in law, Ben, to search for the secrets that doomed her marriage. Their search draws them towards Germany and the tragic history of Ludwig II, the Swan King, with his magnificent castle and suspicious death. Read more
The Boy Next Door, by Irene Sabatini
Amidst the stories of political violence, rampant inflation, AIDS, poverty and general chaos that make up the sum total of what we in the UK hear about Zimbabwe (especially since most British reporters are banned from entering the country), it’s not difficult to overlook the fact that it’s a place where, even now, millions of people are struggling to get on with their daily lives. Irene Sabatini’s debut novel is a love story, and a story of one woman’s attempt to live a normal existence against the backdrop of Zimbabwean independence and the sometimes gradual, sometimes shockingly abrupt decline of the country of her birth – and it’s a really fantastic book.
Lindiwe Bishop is a diffident teenager at the start of The Boy Next Door, who loves her tactiturn daddy and has a difficult relationship with her mother. They live in a formerly all-white neighbourhood, an example of the kind of social and economic mobility that independence initially made possible, although it’s not enough for her mother, who is a social climber in a country dominated by racial awareness (and where ‘black’ and ‘coloured’ mean different things). The boy next door of the title, white Rhodesian Ian, is suffused in intrigue – only a teenager himself, he was arrested and convicted for the murder of his stepmother, immolated in the back yard, yet the conviction is overturned and he returns to the empty house, reciprocating the interest of the shy Lindiwe – and from this faltering early relationship, everything else flows.
The Missing by Jane Casey
The Missing is Jane Casey’s first novel, a thriller set in a Surrey commuter town, narrated by an English teacher at a girl’s private school. Sarah Finch is a thwarted soul hiding a tragic secret. Her brother disappeared from their front garden when she was eight years old and never returned, no body was found. She lives with her mother in that same house, the brother’s bedroom kept as an immaculate shrine. They bicker and fight, the mother drinks and snipes all day, unable to forgive Sarah for her failure to remember any significant details about her beloved son’s disappearance or abduction. Her mother’s life lies shattered, but Sarah is long past feeling any sympathy, though she sees it as her duty to stay where she is not wanted and look after her as best she can.
One Monday morning, Michael Shepherd, the father of one of Sarah’s pupils, makes an appeal to her class for information: his daughter has been missing since Saturday afternoon, has anyone seen or heard from her? Later that day, Sarah stumbles across the girl’s body on her evening run and finds herself at the centre of a highly emotive murder investigation. Naturally, the new case stirs up memories for Sarah, and she can’t help getting involved, whether it’s offering lame platitudes to the grieving parents after a press conference held in the school hall or gently interrogating pupils before the police have had a chance to and striking gold. Her position is further complicated when an impulsive liaison with one of the detectives leading the investigation forces her to withhold potentially crucial information, and when the case’s sordid underbelly is uncovered, suspicion is turned towards Sarah herself.
The Affair of the Necklace, by Edgar P. Jacobs
Edgar P. Jacobs was a friend and collaborator of the famous Belgian writer and artist Herge and the adventures of Blake and Mortimer were in fact serialised in the first issue of Tintin magazine in 1946. Although surprising at the time, that first story, The Secret of the Swordfish, proved more popular than the Tintin story that it accompanied and so the Blake and Mortimer adventures were developed and soon published as an independent series of graphic novels. Featuring a dynamic partnership between famous British physicist Professor Philip Mortimer and Captain Francis Blake, the head of MI5, the Blake and Mortimer novels were set during an atmospheric and mostly accurate interpretation the 1950s and involved a thrilling mix of classic detection and science fiction. However, despite proving incredibly popular in their native French, the Blake and Mortimer stories were not available in English until the late 1980s and then only briefly. Fortunately, in 2007, Cinebook Publishing began reprinting Blake and Mortimer, albeit not chronologically, with The Affair of the Necklace being the seventh title published.
As The Affair of the Necklace begins, dapper heroes Blake and Mortimer are travelling to Paris to testify at the trial of Count Olrik [the official nemesis of the series who appears in all but one of the books]. Stuck in a never-ending traffic jam, Professor Mortimer reads a newspaper for entertainment and learns that the citizens of Paris are abuzz with news about the discovery by Sir Henry Williamson, a wealthy British collector of antiques, of a necklace once owned by Marie-Antoinette that was thought to have been destroyed centuries ago. Rumours are swirling that Sir Henry intends to present the necklace as a birthday gift to Queen Elizabeth II. Mortimer’s contemplation of the historical significance of the necklace is brought to a sudden, if temporary, halt when Captain Blake spots their old friend Commissaire Pradier of the French security service. Pradier explains the reason for the traffic holdup – Count Olrik has staged an audacious escape from his prison van as he was being transferred to court for trial.
Orphans of Eldorado, by Milton Hatoum
A tiny Roman numeral at the top of the spine announces (in a whisper) that Orphans of Eldorado is the thirteenth instalment of Canongate’s critically acclaimed Myths series. However, it seems that Canongate have relaxed their branding, as Hatoum’s slim novel is issued as a trade paperback, and a colourful one at that. The decision to publish in paperback has prompted a flurry of angry comments on the novel’s official page on the Myths website, but binding aside, Orphans of Eldorado doesn’t disappoint.
The myth that underpins the story concerns Amazonian tales of an enchanted underwater utopian city. Hatoum suggests in his afterword that these stories, which involve people being seduced by dolphins or anacondas and taken down to the riverbed to live an enchanted life, may have been the inspiration for the conquistador’s search for the chimerical golden city of Eldorado. Supernatural rumours and whispers abound in Hatoum’s depiction of early twentieth century Brazil: the novel opens with two vignettes about a man who is strangled by his own enormous penis and a woman who copulates with a male tapir. However, the narrative is driven by an ancient, universal trope firmly rooted in reality: the story of the prodigal son.
Truth or Fiction, by Jennifer Johnston
Jennifer Johnston’s Truth or Fiction is a slight, upright novel, and the physical presence of the book echoes the ethereal nature of the story within it. This isn’t to imply that the story is lacking power, emotion, or heft, but that it, and the memories and stories it contains, spin a thread that feels slippery, as if the flex and jolt of the characters and their interactions make the entire novel impossible to grasp.
It begins with an argument. Not without cause, for it is the unspoken dreams that are often missed the most, and when Caroline’s partner finds success and suddenly wants to get married, the years of deferring dreams and unspoken compromises push Caroline out of the house, of her life, to go look at the life of someone who has already “finished” his career, someone who is ready for a journalist to come along and tie all of the strings together, to tell the truth of his life.
Of course, Desmond Fitzmaurice is not done living, nor is the life he recounts entirely trustworthy. And his stories, some told to Caroline outright, some recorded for posterity, some shown through the eyes of his ex-wives, children, and friends, sit uneasily next to each other. Even everyday happenings, where he goes and what he does, are coloured with the fiction he prefers, with the control he exerts over life and story. In some ways, he lets Caroline in. He exposes the memories he has chosen to record, the version he has decided to tell himself and the world, but they seem unable to form a complete story. Instead, each memory has a life of its own: both disturbing and uncertain, confused and pointed.
The Saga of Swamp Thing Bk. 2, by Alan Moore, John Totleben and Steve Bissette
When Alan Moore took over DC’s then failing Swamp Thing series in 1984 he swept aside the mythology that had been built up since Len Wein and Bernie Wrightson had begun the first regular Swamp Thing series back in 1972 and instead firmly rooted the character into the circumstances and environment envisioned in House of Secrets #92, the one-shot comic that first introduced the world to the Swamp Thing. Prior to Moore’s arrival on the scene, the Swamp Thing itself had been a mutated version of the scientist Alec Holland, his plight caused by a tragic explosion at his laboratory. Moore, however, wanted to return the Swamp Thing series back to its horror roots and so, in his first issue in charge, he brought the evil Sunderland Corporation to the forefront and had them apparently kill the Swamp Thing in a hail of bullets in an attempt to discover the secrets of Alec Holland’s research. An obscure supervillain, the Floronic Man, was brought in by the Corporation to perform an autopsy on the Swamp Thing’s body and discovered that it was only superficially human.
Although the body contains crude approximations of human organs, they were actually non-functioning, vegetable-based imitations of their human counterparts, indicating that the Swamp Thing had in fact never been human. The Swamp Thing was not Alec Holland; it only believed itself to be so. Alec Holland was killed in the explosion at his lab, but the swamp vegetation had absorbed his knowledge, memories and emotions and created a new sentient being that believed itself to be Alec Holland. This was the essential tragedy at the heart of the series: the Swamp Thing could never become human again because it had never actually been human in the first place. At the end of his autopsy, the Floronic Man realised that the Swamp Thing was not actually dead but merely in a coma and so the Corporation attempted to imprison the Swamp Thing in cold storage. The Swamp Thing quickly regained consciousness, however, and after partially recovering from the shock of finding out what, rather than who, it actually was, escaped back to the swamps of Louisiana. This reimagining of the mythology of the Swamp Thing took place in the comics that were collected together in Saga of the Swamp Thing: Book One, the first volume of Vertigo’s deluxe hardback collections of Alan Moore’s Swamp Thing run.
The Victorians, by Jeremy Paxman
Jeremy Paxman’s The Victorians uses the paintings of the Victorian Age to paint a picture of the lives of the men and women who lived through a time filled with upheaval and investigation, darkness and discovery, a vibrant sense of purpose and a new perception of the purpose of art itself. Paxman deftly weaves the stories found on the paintings themselves with the lives of the men and women who painted them and the people who bought, criticized, and became the subjects of paintings that were “the cinema of their day.”
This book is a companion to Paxman’s BBC series with the same name and much of it will sound familiar to those who watched the series when it aired. The book does an excellent job of inserting prints of the paintings described, and Paxman’s descriptions are often enough to understand the story he is telling even if the painting itself was unavailable. The importance of the paintings to the story is evident, and the decision to include a number of colour prints really adds to the richness of the conclusions that Paxman draws from the art and the world that surrounded it.
Bauchelain and Korbal Broach 1, by Steven Erikson
Originally published in the UK as limited edition novellas, Steven Erikson’s tales of the necromancers Bauchelain and Korbal Broach are now finally available to the masses of Steven Erikson fans courtesy of this collected volume from Erikson’s American publishers. Readers of the doorstop-sized volumes that constitute the Malazan Book of the Fallen have long been aware of Erikson’s talent for dark, dry humour and snappy dialogue amidst all the nihilism and introspection, and this is a wonderful opportunity to see those talents brought to the fore. Of the many notable comic relief characters, Bauchelain and Broach, and their substance-addled manservant Emancipor Reese, have long stood out, making this volume even more welcome.
That’s not to say that the novellas eschew Erikson’s fascination for the darker side: as necromancers, adherents to dark arts, the anti-heroes of these books are involved in some pretty nasty stuff, with the eunuch Korbal Broach being undoubtedly the more evil of the two, though as he spends much of his time in the guise of a crow his presence is often brooding and sketchy. Bauchelain is the brains behind the outfit, and Broach’s enabler, and the city of Lamentable Moll is where it all kicks off. Broach has brought the city to its knees in fear, killing every night in pursuit of his own sick objectives, and Sergeant Guld is on the case – a copper that Pratchett’s Sam Vimes would truly be able to admire. As Guld closes in on the truth of the matter, Bauchelain is recruiting the luckless Reece as their new helper. Their exit from the city, as so often will be the case, is made in rather a hurry.
Lex Trent versus The Gods, by Alex Bell
Lex Trent versus The Gods contains one of fiction’s most entrancing character types: the scoundrel. This scoundrel, the Lex Trent of the title, lives the quiet, and seemingly blameless, life of a law clerk by day, only to spend his nights as “The Shadowman”, a cat burglar who has eluded capture for long enough to become a local legend.
Before deciding to study the law, and after fleeing a crime that went slightly less than smoothly, Lex made himself the subject of the Goddess of Fortune and, flighty and distractable as she may be, her help and the good luck that goes with it make Lex’s career as a thief, trickster, and rogue quite a success. He is clever enough to make sure his skills are up to the task; it wouldn’t do to depend completely on luck, and his careful and thorough planning serve him well. Until, that is, he gets caught up in the Game.
The Game is for the entertainment of the Gods. Lex lives in a world the Gods have left. Well, a world the Gods have divided, and one that is now connected only by a series of ladders–ladders that are guarded by fierce creatures and tradition that leaves mankind trapped in the World Above and the Gods the rulers of the World Below. The Gods’ interest in mankind is now limited to collecting followers and winning the Game–a competition where the God who wins gets bragging rights, and the humans who lose face injury or worse. But, the player who wins, well, that player gets fame and fortune, something Lex feels is worth a little risk–after all, doesn’t he have Fortune herself on his side?
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The Suicide Run, by William Styron
The Suicide Run collects together a number of short stories from the late William Styron, probably most famous for the novel Sophie’s Choice. They are all based on Styron’s experiences in the Marine Corps during and after the Second World War, and although the covers front and back may be suggestive of the bombs and bullets of combat, the recurring theme of these tales is actually the effect of war on those who do not see real action, for while they may share some of the risks of combat simply by being in a uniform, the psychology of war is very different indeed.
‘Blankenship’ is based on Styron’s experience as a prison guard during the latter stages of the war, guarding not the enemy but men from his own service, on a foggy island prison. Styron evokes the freezing conditions of the prison island, and the stultifying boredom of the duty, as well as the peverse reality of guarding brawlers and deserters while his countrymen fight and die half a world away – not that the narrator is hungry to see action (none of the narrators of these tales are gung-ho glory-hounds). The boredom and frustration are relieved by the escape of a group of prisoners from the island, and Blankenship has a chance to demonstrate his calm efficiency, but one of the convicts pushes him beyond his limits, and he shows the frustration that lies beneath.
Stettin Station, by David Downing
Across three books David Downing has, with Zoo, Silesian and now Stettin Station, created a series of Europe-on-the-brink spy novels that are as claustrophobic and tense as anything this side of a great Alan Furst. Books set in the run up to the Second World War may be a ten a penny publisher’s staple these days but not many of them are actually either particularly convincing or particularly thrilling. Downing’s are.
His wrinkle is to set the Station books right inside the belly of the beast, in Berlin. Stettin Station takes the series into the early 1940s, with an evocation of Nazi Germany at the height of its powers almost without parallel. This Berlin is outwardly civilised, normal even, but with appalling bestiality never far from the surface. It is already a nightmarish place for many, it is fast becoming so for everybody else.
The Eternal Prison, by Jeff Somers
The third book, and clearly not the last, in Jeff Somer’s series of Avery Cates novels, is a serious return to form after the relative disappointment that was The Digital Plague. In that book, Cates was manipulated in to being the vector for a deadly virus, and he has survived the experience only to eventually return to New York and witness a devastated city, three quarters of the population dead from the plague. As The Eternal Prison opens, he is being rounded up by the System Security Force and dragged off to a prison in the middle of Death Valley, apparently considered to be a Person of Interest. and the fight seems to have gone out of him.
The prison holds mysteries aplenty: prison guards who appear almost from thin air, inmates who mysteriously vanish, and several enigmatic old lags who want a piece of Avery, including one who claims to have known Avery’s father, in the days before everything changed. Avery becomes enmeshed in violence, of course – he’s a professional killer, so that’s no surprise – and an escape attempt. He even comes as close as he ever has to falling in love.
How Many Friends Does One Person Need?, by Robin Dunbar
The answer to the question posed by the title, How Many Friends Does One Person Need?, is, according to Robin Dunbar, 150. Or, rather, no more than 150. This figure has become known as ‘Dunbar’s Number’ and is based on extensive studies conducted in a wide range of societies. If nothing else it should provide comfort for those who cast a jealous eye on the absurdly high friend-count some people manage on social networking sites: the chances are, most of these people are not ‘true’ friends.
This is, of course, something most of us will have long suspected, and herein lies the appeal of Dunbar’s new book. Using his extensive knowledge of anthropology and evolutionary psychology Dunbar looks at the everyday habits of homo sapiens and provides neat theories and explanations as to why they should be as they are. His discussion of Dunbar’s Number takes in such diverse subjects as the African savannah, the success of the Gore-Tex brand, Christmas cards and the Domesday Book. Areas of human experience which may have previously seemed like unexplainable peculiarities, or off-limits to rigorous science, are opened up by the author’s wide-ranging study.
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Simon Kernick
Simon Kernick is one of Britain’s most exciting new thriller writers. He arrived on the crime writing scene with his highly acclaimed debut novel The Business of Dying, the story of a corrupt cop moonlighting as a hitman. However, Simon’s big breakthrough came with his novel Relentless which was selected by Richard and Judy for [...]
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Five copies of John le Carré’s Smiley vs Karla Trilogy to be won
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy was one of the big film releases of 2011, and to celebrate its release on DVD we have five copies of John le Carré’s Smiley vs Karla Trilogy to be won – consisting of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, The Honourable Schoolboy and Smiley’s People.
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