The door was stuck. Completely and utterly. It rattled with the movement of the train, budging just enough to tease. The carriage grew warmer – did it really, or simply an imagining, a symptom of the incarceration? My fine silk shirt stuck to me like cling film. My cell mate aboard the carriage was down at the other end and shook their head, hands falling limply from the door. They’d already missed their stop, of course they’d give up so easily.
I took a few steps back and rammed my shoulder into the door, even though I knew it opened by sliding. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t move. The heat crawled its way up my chest and through my shoulders, into my throat and mouth, choking me, and with it a taste of fury at the ridiculous circumstances of the morning which had resulted in me having to use public transport. My fellow captive in the faulty carriage opened their mouth and, with a single one of my glares, they closed it.
The train seemed to move ever faster, the strange sideways pull amplifying, the feeling of my organs sliding lanced a dread into my bones as we hurtled down the tracks. The light from outside vanished as we entered a tunnel, the windows becoming vacant voids of black. A faint wave of nausea eased up my body. I’d travelled this line many times, back before I could collect cars like trading cards. There were no tunnels on this route. I turned back to my fellow captive aboard this ghost train. Or I would have done, if they were there.
I spun, again and again, dashing between the seats. They were gone. The incessant, burning heat of the carriage, crawling over my skin like ants, ceased as if a bucket of ice water fell over me in cascades of confusion and despair. My flesh stung as my sweat crystallised, freezing along the lengths of my arms, through my scalp, down my back, making me one with my sodden silk shirt.
I spun a final time, the film of ice crackling with my movements and I came face to face with my fellow captive, stood uncomfortably close to me. At last, I recognised their face, and I knew I would never leave that train carriage. Something in the eyes, a glint of emptiness that reflected the abyss within. It was strangely liberating in a way, despite the mile wide terror that wedged itself into my being. It was all over now.
“I thought I had 10 years.” None of my fear was in my voice, just resignation.
“It’s been 10 years,” the demon said.
“Oh.”
The demon looked at me in their human guise, eyes twinkling with amusement and hunger, and I realised that, instead of money, perhaps I should have made a deal for better time keeping.
This book is a really good reminder that I need to stop forgetting that YA books exist.
You remember the film Pacific Rim, right? Big, daft action film with giant monsters being punched by giant robots? Imagine that but written by a very angry Chinese feminist. Are a lot of the themes incredibly on the nose? Yes. Did it harm the book? No. In my opinion, it only enhanced it. This was not a subtle book. It was brash and in your face about everything. It was never intended to be subtle. It was here to scream at you, and scream it did. The book is ridiculous and over the top and great fun.
Our main character is Zeitian, whose sister was murdered by one of the celebrity mech warriors who defends the people of Huaxia from the encroaching monsters. She decides to get revenge by volunteering as one of the mech warrior copilots (the problem being that, as a woman, the male pilot is expected to essentially use her as a human sacrifice to power the machine). Don’t worry though – she’s planning to murder him before she ever steps foot in there. What starts out as a dangerous revenge plot rapidly becomes something so much more.
Zeitian’s character growth is phenomenal. I love that she didn’t have the traditional arc of understanding her power – she knew she was a strong woman and she went out there to kick ass. Well, kick everything really. Zeitian was very angry. (In fact, it’s the main complaint I’ve seen from low star reviews of the book but I loved her for it. She suited it and it was nice to have a female character, especially in this setting, be so self-assured, arrogant, and forceful.) Her growth was far more centered on her overcoming her preconceptions and allowing herself to be vulnerable. Y’know, in between mech battles and planning to escape a horrifically oppressive patriarchal society. Look, she’s got a lot on, okay?
The ending was incredible. A lot of the book was predictable fun, but then that ending had my jaw drop with delight. Obviously I can’t say much without ruining it, but Zeitian makes it clear very early that she’s a woman who won’t settle and goddamn does she mean it.
Also, as a very minor spoiler, I did very much appreciate that there was a geometrically accurate love triangle. This is always one of my pet peeves in books that claim to have a love triangle. Most of them mean they have a love Less Than symbol. It’s not the same.
I’m off track, what I should be saying is: Do you like big stupid action books? Do you like angry feminism and even angrier, unapologetic women? Do you like awesome cool Chinese fantasy? You may want to give this a go.
Portrait of Tony by OlieBoldador – commissioned by a close friend
When Tony’s best friend decides he wants to stop a war, he supposes he should probably tag along. After all, Michael’s an idiot and Tony’s got connections. Totally legit connections, you understand, but they could come in handy – especially when things get heavy.
It’s easy to underestimate a man who’s four inches tall. Someone’s in for a big surprise.
Story:Twyned Earth Series, first appearance in The Virias Treaty.
Role in Story: Deuteragonist
Name: Tony
Age: 45
County of Origin: Aigorshuck, Sarn
Occupation: Unemployed. Nothing shady going on here. Nooooope.
Loyalties: Family, and one or two close friends
Goal: Save the world.
Morals: Strict, if skewed. There are some things you just don’t do. Try to keep the civilians out of it. Don’t hurt kids and kill anyone who does. And if there’s the risk of a world war starting, ugh, guess you try and help.
When I picked this book up, I didn’t realise that T. Kingfisher’s What Moves the Dead was a retelling of Poe’s short story The Fall Of The House of Usher. I just saw that wonderfully mushroomy cover and was sold.
This was a wonderful slow, meandering, gothic story in the spirit of the original. The author has a magical way with words which makes the bleak and unsettling atmosphere of the house so pervasive in the book. They describe the horrid little details so well to get us to Spook Factor: Neck Hairs several times. Glorious. The thick shroud of the House of Usher hung over me as I read.
The narration is, surprisingly but not oddly placed, hilarious. Kingfisher’s revamp of the originally nameless protagonist, now Easton, is brilliant. The details and the asides they add pour such flavour into the book. I could read about them doing literally anything and be entertained. The author absolutely nailed my sense of humour with this character, to the point where I know I’m going to have to pick up more of their books in the future. There’s a new book with this main character coming out in 2024, which will be getting preordered.
Despite the whole book taking place in the decrepit House of Usher, we were given such a rich feel for the fictional version of Europe in which it was set. The side characters, such as the mycologist, were fantastic and memorable. And again, it was creepy. I’m quite difficult to creep, so it was great fun to feel the goosebumps going for it.
A great, short read for people who enjoy beautiful gothic horror with a fair splash of humour added in.
I was scrolling my way through social media recently when I happened across a post from someone asking about peoples’ most lofty writing goals. It was a great question and I loved seeing all of the answers, but it also really got me thinking about my own end game writing goals. I’m very used to looking at small monthly goals and large yearly goals, but I rarely think of the Big Picture. I write purely because I love writing and I would love to share that writing with others, but I rarely think about what I would like to actually achieve and this question got me thinking about it.
As evidenced by the fact that I’m currently working hard to pursue self-publishing, there are certain things that I want to get out of writing. My goals felt very small in comparison to those out to make a career out of their writing, especially as, between my mental health and having to work full time, I don’t ever see myself achieving such a thing, but below are the things that I would love to tick off on my writing journey.
1.) Actually publish the things! – I’ve dreamed about this for a long time. It’s quite surreal to think that this one is actually getting pretty close, but all going well I’m on track to be published in 2024. Wowie.
2.) Get a review from a stranger who loved my book – Having anyone read your book is amazing (and terrifying), but with friends and family there’s always that feeling that they only read it because they know you. They only enjoyed it because they know you. For a complete stranger to pick up my book and think enough of it-good or bad-to write a review, well, that would be something else. And if they liked the book? Not sure I’d ever recover from that.
3.) See my book in a shop – This is possibly the loftiest of my goals, but my plans for self-publishing have always been geared around being able to get my books in brick-and-mortar shops. And if I ever manage to get this one done, and I see a book out in the wild, I can guarantee you will never hear the end of it.
4.) Keep writing books just for the love of it – I’ve fallen into the trap before of worrying about making my books marketable and thinking about what the nebulous blob of “readers” want. It almost killed my drive to write. I know I’m never going to be one of these big name authors. I just want to write books I love and attract some little weirdos who like my style.
What are your own personal writing goals? I’d love to hear about them in the comments!
Let’s start with the book itself. Joanna Maciejewska’s Humanborn is a novel following Kaja, war veteren, investigator, and refuser of choosing sides. She lives and works in the wreckage of Dublin in a post-magical-war Ireland. You can see already why this might float my boat, right? Well, a concept isn’t enough. It’s got to be done well.
Folks, this book made me stop playing Tears of the Kingdom for a FULL WEEK while I powered through it (don’t forget I am the world’s slowest reader, even if I am loving a book).
Maciejewska’s Ireland was enthralling. From the tales of how the magic came to be there, to the creatures now living there, to the treaties and alliances and the workings of the magic itself. To the cost of the magic. I hung on every word telling me about this fantastical world. The intrigue as well of the world outside Ireland stuck in the mind, ever present, with hints woven through the book. That alone would have had me entertained for the whole novel, but then there’s the characters.
I already knew that Maciejewska was a bit of a rockstar when it comes to crafting characters, especially ones who you don’t know if you should trust or not. In Humanborn, she takes it up a notch. Kaja herself was wonderful, complex, and faceted, and then she was surrounded by a complete set of allies, enemies, unlikely friends and uneasy colleagues. And there’s extra plus points because Kaja (in my opinion) even smooched the right one.
The story itself was about Kaja and her task to track down the culprits of terror attacks in the city, but it’s much more than that. It’s about Kaja and her journey into the world of the fae, and her ensuing entanglement with them that might end up affecting her a lot more than she might think.
Urg, look, it’s damn good. I don’t want to spoil anything, just read it.
The process of writing a novel is a long, difficult, and tiresome thing. It can be very easy to lose inspiration, especially when life outside your writing is hard or you’ve been slogging away on the same project for a while. There are a few little things that I find are great for injecting a little of that passion back, which also coincides with a handy method for editing too.
It can often feel like all this time I spend pounding away at the keyboard doesn’t produce anything. I don’t have anything tangible after and sometimes, when things are tough, that can make it easy to forget the final product. Sometimes a word count on a screen offers little comfort or accomplishment.
I very rarely actually print my work, partly because nothing ever feels finished enough to waste the paper on and partly because I’m convinced that all printers are out to get me. It can be easy to forget just how amazing it feels to hold that work in your hand, to flick through the pages you’ve worked so hard on all these years. Even just a print out for scrawling across can be enough to remind me both what I’m working towards and what it’s come from.
So if you’re feeling a little disillusioned with your writing, maybe try printing out a chapter or two and have a read. Touch the words, smell the paper. It might just give you that little boost you’re looking for.
THAT’S NOT HOW MASS SPEC WORKS. HOW DID YOU EVEN SEPARATE THOSE COMPOUNDS? WAS YOUR SPECTRUM JUST A SOLID BLACK RECTANGLE?
ALSO WHY DO YOU HAVE AN ORGANIC CHEMIST DOING THOSE THINGS? THAT’S NOT WHAT THEY DO.
Aaaaand I can breathe now. I’ll put the angry chemist in me away.
Believe it or not, I really enjoyed this book. I felt it had pacing issues (the start was slooooow) and I didn’t really like any of the characters (and felt like a few had great potential but were a bit wasted), but even that didn’t detract from this super fun monster book. It was, very clearly, written with a sequel in mind, which is unfortunate as said sequel does not currently exist, however if you enjoy some good monster horror I would definitely recommend giving this a read.
Grant’s Into the Drowning Deep starts off telling us about a ship that went off hunting for a legend and then showed up with no crew and footage of some very bitey-looking mermaids aboard. Seven years later, a new crew and a new ship are heading back to find out if the footage was a hoax, as is what is most commonly believed, and to definitively prove the existence of said bitey-looking mermaids.
Sounds like a terrible plan, right?
This book was predictable in the way that this type of book should be. It was written so that a well-seasoned horror enjoyer knew exactly what the characters were walking into, and had the tension and dread of watching them do it. The slow pacing at the start particularly helped this (even if, in my opinion, it went on a little too long), and for me it really built up to the payoff I was waiting for.
The mermaids themselves were wonderfully written and the author went into such interesting detail about them. I was absolutely fascinated every time we learned something new about these creatures. Honestly, I could read about them all day and am really hoping that we do get that sequel eventually.
Recommended for anyone who likes a monster story that doesn’t rush but also doesn’t keep secrets.
Don’t just take my word for it, but also that of the person at my book club who tried to read this in the bath and, upon finding themself at a particularly creepy part, decided that they were clean enough.
For almost all of my life, I’ve lived close to the sea. It has a special place in my heart and was a part of my daily life for a very long time, whether viewing out of my window or wandering along its beaches or up its piers. In 2017, I lived in a tiny little fishing village. The sea was a stone’s throw away; the harbour visible from my window. The experience of living in a tiny seaside village got me thinking about the delightful little seaside towns we see portrayed idyllically in books and films, and about the cliches which are undeniably true and some very loud omissions.
Writing a story set in a quaint, tiny seaside village? Here’s an incomplete list of things, obvious and not, which you can use to add some authenticity to your setting.
The Good Side
It’s almost guaranteed to be somewhere beautiful. The sea is beautiful all by itself. Small fishing harbours, cliffs, beaches – they’re pretty hard to mess up. The setting is good for the soul. As a writer, even the bad weather can be fantastically atmospheric. You know in those old films, where the wild winds literally howl? That actually happens. It’s easy to dismiss as creative hyperbole but there were times where I wasn’t sure if it was the wind or voices, screams, clawing their way through the shutters. Between the wind and the haars—thick, rolling fog that devours everything from sight—even the bad days can really put you in the mood to write. And, if you’re a writer writing one of these dark, spooky scenes, you can take solace in knowing that this isn’t the fancy of some overly purple prose. Between shrieking winds, consuming fogs, driving rains, and every other type of weather you can think of, there’s plenty of scope to put your characters in whatever atmosphere you need.
Even the tiniest, least touristy places are probably going to have at least one really great ice cream shop. And, if you’re anything like me, live somewhere like this long enough and you’re probably not going to just save it for the sunny days. There’s nothing unrealistic about your character going out for ice cream in the rain. Or snow. I know, I’ve done it.
Not always applicable if the town is more cliff than anything, but there’s a good chance you’re going to have a beach right there. It might be sand, it might be pebbles, perhaps a combination, but it’s delightful all the same. Depending on what route I was taking, I’d have to walk across it to get to the shops. I skipped across stepping stones that crossed the river right where it met the sea as I walked home from dentist, stones that were only there depending on the time of day. Seaside towns, especially old ones, have weird layouts.
In the summer, he village becomes Dog Central. Now, I’m actually pretty timid around dogs but I can appreciate how darn adorable they are from a distance. Where do people who can’t take dogs abroad or don’t want to put them into kennels go? The seaside. If soaking in the ambience of strangers’ adorable furry friends sounds like a good time to you, get yourself to the seaside in the summertime. Want a little extra authenticity to your summer seaside scene? Dogs.
There are other critters who are here all year round. Crabs, cockles, fish, jellyfish, sea birds, non sea birds (birds really don’t give a damn). A lot of cool things hang out in and around the sea, including some things you wouldn’t expect. Most people don’t generally consider mallards to be sea birds but no one’s actually told the mallards that.
The Bad Side
Winter sucks. And that’s speaking as someone who prefers winter to summer. My particular town took the full brunt of the North Sea winds, right in the face. And of course, it was an old town, full of beautiful buildings – which were all listed. That means no insulation, no double glazing, and a very unlikely chance of having decent heaters. We spent as much money on heating that winter as we did on rent, and we were still cold all the time. We lived in one room, because there was no way we could have afforded heating more than that. I couldn’t feel my toes until the end of March.
Every now and then, you’ll wake up ready to face another day, expecting to be gently rocked awake by the soft light of morning. It’ll take you a moment to realise that something is wrong. You frown, confused, and go to open the window. For some reason, you really need to get some fresh air in here. Only when you do, it gets worse. That’s right. We all know it, people are just afraid to say it. Sometimes that great majestic and mysterious body known as the sea quite simply just smells like farts. Often it’s subtle. Other times? It’s not. Just occasionally, it’s so thick you can taste it, like you’re stuck in a lift with that person. The entire town stinks and there’s nothing you can do. You’ve just gotta ride it out.
Another one that is easy to forget amongst the romantic idealistic idea of living next to the sea is that, depending on your particular town’s layout, there are occasions when the main road and the sea are the same thing. You’ll look out the window and think “wow, the tide’s really in toda- oh.” Good luck catching that bus! Always fun if you really just want to mess with a character’s day.
As mentioned previously, it gets busy in the summer. There’s people everywhere and they’re all in holiday mode. That means they’re walking slowly, taking up the whole pavement, and getting really confused and annoyed when someone is actually trying to hurry somewhere – the same type of people who’d probably kick a granny out of the way to get the train on their way to work. Anyone who lives in a holiday destination will probably know this already – people who are on holiday have the amazing ability to forget than not everyone is on holiday. Why in such a hurry, they wonder as they eat their ice cream cone? I wonder whoever sold them it, since everyone is on holiday. If your character is in a hurry in the height of summer, even if it’s getting into the evening, they’re probably going to have crowds to contend with. The town might not even have that many tourists but let me tell you, the older it is, the less it’s going to be designed to accommodate a lot of people.
This brings me to my next point. In the summer, every night is Saturday night. If your character lives between any pubs or restaurants and somewhere people might be staying, they’ll get to enjoy listening to drunks every night. Admittedly, I did have the worst of this as I lived right next to a pub. It was a poor choice.
Your character has a car? Great! They’re going to spend a lot of time swearing and/or parking really illegally. My partner and I used to have a game counting how many illegally parked cars we could spot in one place. The best we got was eleven on one corner. As you can image, this makes getting around—both on foot and by car—more tricky.
That’s right. These bastards. They sit on roofs and squak, swoop down and steal your food, sometimes they just stand in the way and refuse to move. It’s even more annoying than you’d think to be forced to walk around a stubborn seagull. Like sure, I’m probably 40 times your weight but I’ll walk around you, bird. Great. Stories of seagulls aggressively swiping things out of your hands or just point blank ignoring you as you try to walk past them aren’t exaggerated. They’re used to people. They don’t fear you. They don’t fear your character. Not even that cold blooded assassin of yours. The guy who makes the peasants’ neck hair stand on end or silences the pub with their presence as they enter? Seagulls. Don’t. Give. A. Shit. They’re watching. They’re waiting. And, if you’ve got a poke of chips, they’re coming for you.
So, I was browsing the transgender fantasy section of my local queer bookshop and happened across a book about killer hippos in Louisiana. Naturally, I bought it immediately and I have no regrets.
River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey was, by all accounts, a mad and ridiculous book in which our heroes are tasked with clearing out the feral hippos from a section of the Mississippi. It’s a year long gig, but our man Winslow plans on getting it done in a weekend. Good for him. Absolutely nothing will go wrong.
No book is perfect and I did feel that there were points where characters were inconsistent and some things didn’t make a huge amount of sense, but sense was the last thing I was looking for when I picked up a book about murder hippopotami in the United States. The flirtation between the main character and his love interest was slightly too much for me, but to be fair was I chomping at the bit to see some hippos eat someone every time we were on a non hippo-eating-people scene.
This book was great fun. I read it in two sittings, which is lightning fast for me. There was action, there was murder, there was both hippo and non-hippo related mayhem. There was a fat Frenchwoman meteor hammering things from the back of a trained hippo. There was Ruby the Stealth Hippo. It was, most definitely, an operation and not a caper. I’ll be picking up the sequel for definite.
Recommended for anyone who is looking for a quick read filled with action, who appreciates that sometimes things in books can just be that way because it’s cool.
C. Matt Schofield 