I can't say anything really bad about The World That We Knew. The writing is very good, the characters interesting, but I couldn't find the will to continue reading the book. I may be retrying later, when the zeitgeist is different.

  One problem with the book is that is another story about Jews being oppressed by the evil German Nazis, and at this time I found difficult to separate that idea from the things happening right now. Rather than try to avoid resolving that internal conflict, I've decided to postpone.

  A rather more relevant problem is that... other than the presence of a golem, the story is hardly fantasy, at least up to the point where I stopped reading. One could just as well not make it fantasy and just write a regular historical fiction set in WWII.

  Bottom line: slight chance to try again much later.

  What a delightful dark Icelandic folklore inspired fantasy! If you liked the Arcane animated series, Shadows of the Short Days feels just like that. Young revolutionary young women who go too far, mad knowledge obsessed geeks who go too far, fascist governments with crazy magical steampunk SS corps going too far, and dark and depressing, as any good Nordic writing has to be. The writing of Alexander Dan Vilhjálmsson is good, the world building really detailed, I loved it!

  One thing I didn't like was the info dump at the beginning of the book, a bit like the Irulan presentation in the beginning of Lynch's Dune film, which made me think it was also mandated from up high so that the book doesn't put off the normies. It introduces some sort of space colonization story that doesn't really fit with the rest of the book, for starters.

  Another thing that was hard to swallow were the characters. They were very well written, but all of them were selfish delusional assholes. Hard to truly root for any of them.

  But the story was amazing and I lapped it up. An alternate world Reykjavík where magic of two types is real, magical creatures are real and the human government oppresses everything not human, especially the halflings. One of the protagonists is one such halfling, a young woman determined to start a revolution for equality and freedom and ready to walk over corpses to achieve her goal. The second is a student of magic, expelled by the unimaginative authorities of the university, and willing to do anything to understand and tap into the source of magic. They attract the attention of the sadistic government magicians who will, of course, also do anything to achieve their goals.

  Needless to say, things don't really go great for anybody involved. In a world where you can drink or take drugs to alter your magical abilities, not even these sure way solutions to relax and chill the hell down can work.

  Bottom line: it was a very exciting book to read and I intend to continue the series, although not right now. It was actually taxing to live through it and the ending was quite satisfactory. Honestly, this doesn't need a continuation, even if I am glad there is one.

  I couldn't even get through the beginning. If you like the servant girl who becomes magically amazing while caught in some kind of love triangle trope, you're in luck: it's a pentagon! I however, don't like this kind of stuff and I really didn't like the writing style either.

  Bottom line: I DNFed Power of Five, by Alex Lidell. Couldn't find a website or wiki entry for her, either, which I assume means it was probably a good decision.

  The beginning of Gideon the Ninth is very exciting: a world of necromancers locked in apparent eternal decay, served by undead skeletons that just barely maintain the status quo. Powerful magicians living in crumbling crypts and eating slop. I honestly thought it was some subtle jibe regarding AI.

  However, this quickly turns into a completely different genre: an escape room/whodunnit that also reveals the scale of the "universe" is incredibly small. Something cataclysmic happened to people, if these are even people, and no one seems to be aware of it, locked in ridiculous feudal relationships in a tiny empire. What's going on?!

  Unfortunately, Tamsyn Muir doesn't really explain that at all, instead focusing on the sister-like rivalry between the main protagonists, with the obligatory lesbian romance undertones that are thankfully not explored, since it would have meant nothing in this particular story context.

  Bottom line: a really intriguing start, leading to an unexplainably shallow world with a plot that was frankly ridiculous in any setting. I liked the characters quite a lot, but the story was absurd. I liked reading it, but I will not continue the series and I can't recommend it.

  I was quite surprised that this fantasy story, heavily influenced by Chinese folklore, is actually not written by a Chinese author. While the structure is predictable, with vibes of Harry Potter, the premise and execution, as well as the context, are extremely intriguing and exciting. I intend to read the rest of the books!

  In Unsouled, a fertile valley is populated by various clans which live in a feudal equilibrium, where they are not at war, but they are eternal enemies. Families inside each clan vie against each other as well, trying to gain status within the clan. Magic is a thing and for every child a test is performed to determine what kind of soul they possess: Enforcers, Strikers, Rulers and Forgers, which will then determine their role in society. Extremely rarely, the test fails, relegating the tested to the status of Unsouled. Obviously, the main character is such a one.

  Will Wight does a wonderful job in creating the characters, their motivations, building the world and then expanding it to a ridiculous degree. I was immediately curious on what will happen and wanted to continue to read the series, which is what I intend to do. In this first book, the temporary stigma of being an Unsouled is being partially overcome, but without solving the underlying problem of having no training or usable skills. Also, really heavy stakes increase the motivation for the character to grow.

  If I were to criticize something, it's the cunning that the character demonstrates, which seems to belong solely to him. The rest of the people, including masters of magic and figures of authority, seem to be complete idiots most of the time, which diminishes the accomplishments of the hero. Overall, though, a really refreshing book.

  Will Jordan is the real name of Critical Drinker, a famous critic on YouTube that I enjoy watching, although not always agree with. So when I heard he was an author, too, I've decided to read his first book, Redemption, the first in a series of spy action novels starring Ryan Drake. Let's get into it, shall we?

  Well, nothing to say, really. It's a completely average spy action thing, the kind of novel you buy in an airport to read during the flight and never think about it again. Ryan Drake is an aging, almost retired CIA agent, he's recruited to save a mysterious woman from a Russian prison in order to solve a much bigger problem. Obviously, the woman is also incredibly competent, attractive and quick to become a love interest. Weird rivalries, old conflicts, twists and double crosses and international travel while targeted by everybody, they all feature in this classically conceived story.

  I can't say anything about the style of writing either. The beginning is filled with superfluous adjectives and adverbs, like every first book, but then the author finds his pace and starts writing like a human being, but nothing spectacular.

  The major criticism that I have is that the stakes, presented at the start and very real and exciting, have almost no impact on the rest of the book. The most interesting part of the story is relegated to a MacGuffin, only to focus on the very ordinary actions and emotions of the various characters. Also, while the book explains why some things that should have been impossible end up happening anyway, this gives away a lot of the final twists if you just bother to think it through. The overly optimistic ending has some internal contradictions that I won't go into because it would spoil the plot.

  It was easy to read and mildly entertaining. I am sure that Jordan will have done better in the next eight books in the series, but as it is, this first one doesn't motivate me to read them. Was briefly tempted to try out his latest book, Dark Harvest, which is a zombie action thriller, but when I started reading the reviews, seems to be kind of the same thing: cold war era stuff, gulf war era stuff, soldiers and action, romance between soldiers and doctors and a zombie virus related to the Dyatlov Pass, mostly as an afterthought.

  Bottom line: the author has his three act plot structure down, but then he has to write something that is actually exciting and original, which seems more difficult for him. This book in particular is his first, so forgive any amateurisms, but even if it were phenomenal, the story remains a classic spy thriller that ultimately means nothing.

  You know when you are trying to finish a book and you don't really enjoy it, but you feel you own it to the author to at least finish it before you review it? That's what Station Eternity was to me. And because of that feeling, I stopped reading anything for a few months. Which is a lot. Finally, I've decided it wasn't worth it and DNFed it.

  The premise is intriguing: a human apparently cursed to cause murders to happen around her and then be the one to solve the murder. Like an involuntary Jane Marple. So she just has to get away from people on an alien space station, home to all kinds of weird and interesting species. So what happens when a shuttle full of humans is approaching the station?

  The execution was terrible, for me at least. It's not that Mur Lafferty's style is bad, it's just that she focuses on ideas and details that I find absolutely uninteresting. There are some other books that gave me a similar vibe, where things happen in space during some major crisis, but the focus is not on the science or the conflict, but on the romantic interests and random feelings of the characters. This is not quite like as bad, but it's close.

  Bottom line:  I couldn't hate the book, but I couldn't like it either, so I just decided to read other stuff.

  P.S. I am a fan (although not a frequent consumer) of Escape Pod, Pseudopod and PodCastle, with which the author is/was affiliated. If that connection would have been relevant, I would have praised the book more, but obviously, that's not the case. Those podcasts are cool, though, and completely free!

  The Bell Jar of the title is a metaphor for depression and societal pressure. Sylvia Plath writes this semi-autobiographical book about her breakdown and suicide attempt a decade earlier, then promptly commits suicide a bit later.

  The writing is very good, very introspective. The 1979 movie doesn't do justice to the book especially because it fails to convey the inner life of the main character, which the book excels at. It was a spooky read for me, as it describes in great detail how women - particularly in a social context, where outwardly they project something completely different - think inwardly, as well as how depression feels: the anhedonia, the mental dissociation with reality, the time distortion and incessant rumination. Depictions of early psychiatric practices from the time don't make the read any easier.

  I compare it with My Year of Rest and Relaxation, The Stranger and Almost Human. It's also an informative glimpse of '50s American society, with some feminist overtones that feel honest.

  Bottom line: a good book, but you have to have the mood and stomach for this kind of story. If you are studying psychology it's good material for depression.

  A Line in the World: A Year on the North Sea Coast is a sort of a literary travelogue, describing a very subjective experience of the Danish coast. It has little touristic information, though, mostly focusing on feelings, art, history, childhood memories, feminist musings and the like. It does bring everything into beautiful context, but in the end it felt like there was mostly context.

  There are stories about proud British ships brought down by the might of the sea, World War II stories from the German occupation, present stories from the German tourist occupation, stories about the stoic and taciturn Danes, former Vikings, now just disgruntled folk, but still doing the shield wall in front of any outsider people or ideas. There are stories about hallucinations, described beautifully as places remembering things if the right people are present. Also childhood memories and experiences. A lot of cool stuff.

  I liked the book, but if it weren't so mercifully short, I would probably not enjoyed the experience. Reading it it's not like you're there there, it's like you're in Dorthe Nors' head, who just happens to be in Denmark, travelling the coast. The writing is poetic, full of form and feeling.

  However, not everything was perfect. I don't feel like I learned anything useful about the Danish coast! In that regard, it was more a love (is it love? can't tell) letter to being Danish than a travel book. And it certainly didn't feel like a year, only fragmented anecdotes.

  Bottom line: Perhaps more fun to Dorthe Nors fans than random people like myself, but a bad book, but wondering who is it for.

  The book starts with a pretty cruel scene: some magical dude comes and kills the mother and father of a family of five and kidnaps the three female children to the land of the Fae. And then switches years later when the girls are in school, being tormented by bullies and being raised by the killer of their parents. Then stuff happens, where one of the girls takes initiative and changes the very workings of the realm after being trained for a few days and falling in love.

  Yes, The Cruel Prince is a silly YA novel and it should mostly appeal to girls. There are no logical reasons why people or fae would act the way they do once our heroine decides to take action other than to make the story go forward. But Holly Black's writing style is solid and it carries the story until the book ends. I've listened to the whole thing on an international flight and I have to say that, for that context, it was a perfect book.

  Bottom line: I won't continue to read the series or recommend the book, but I don't regret having read it.

  

  I was saying in the review of the first book that the writing was amazing, but completely opaque to me. I didn't understand the purpose of the book and I didn't empathize with any of the characters in it. I was hoping the The Claw of the Conciliator would shed some light on the matter.

  After reading it, I am just as - if not more so - confused as after reading The Shadow of the Torturer. I am calling it quits. I can't continue to read something that brings me no pleasure, learning or understanding. And yet the writing is, without a doubt, brilliant. It leaves me with the feeling that if I only understood the genius of Gene Wolfe's meaning I would be elevated as a reader and as a human being, but as such I remain just an idiot.

  Gene Wolfe is one of those classic writers that you often find mentioned in the same phrase as Asimov, Moorcock, Le Guin and others like that, however much less often do you find a reader and proponent of his books. His writing is definitely brilliant, but after two books of this cycle I still don't know what he wants to say other than describe the weird world in which the action happens.

  The protagonist of The Shadow of the Torturer is Severian, a torturer. It's exactly how it sounds. He is very conscientious, he is part of the Guild of Torturers and he is proud to provide a service to make his guild proud. Happy to serve, not to inflict pain, but having nothing against it either. He makes friends, enemies, loses some, doesn't seem to mind it much, meets them again. There is a pervasive dream-like quality of the entire book, which pisses me off to no end.

  The world this happens in is somewhere in the vast future, where the Sun is slowly dying and the technological past has been forgotten in favor of a Middle Ages kind of organization. Technology still exists, but how it works and who controls it is completely incomprehensible and indistinguishable from magic, although none of the people see it as particularly divine, just something that is.

  Now the guy walks the land to reach another city, thus revealing this world to us. He says that his memory is infallible and that's how he is able to recount the story and all of its details, but he is also an unreliable narrator. This kind of contradiction is common in the story. The book itself is presented as some kind of manuscript from the future that Gene Wolfe merely translated to the best of this 20th century abilities. The writing is rich, dense, filled with archaic and/or imagined words and has a lyrical quality, as if you're supposed to recite it rather than just read it. Nothing is ever explained and there doesn't seem to be any overarching point to the telling of this story. It just meanders from weird situation to another, always feeling as though it's very smart and transmitting a lot through symbolism, but I never figured out what the symbols were and what they were transmitting.

  It's a very strange feeling, in which I kind of appreciate the book, but I don't understand it to a level I could call "reading". Instead I just go through the motions with Severian and hope to make sense of things, as apparently he does.

  There is a character called Dr. Talos, a travelling play writer and performer who, after a weird and opaque play that even the actors (including Severian) did not understand, split the money between the people involved, all but himself, apparently happy to just write his scripts and have them enacted on stage, regardless if anyone likes or even understands them. I feel that he is a stand in for Wolfe. The book itself feels like a play most of the time, as well.

  Bottom line: amazing writing, have no idea what it means, even if I have a pretty good grasp of the English language. I feel like this is what it would feel to read Joyce's Ulysses. They all say you have to imerse yourself into the reading and the language and multiple rereads enhance the experience. I have no intention of reading it any time soon, so that says something about how I feel about this book.

  Starfish is Peter Watts' first novel and it shows. It starts as something and transforms into something else, to then turn into a series, possibly because of publisher pressure. That doesn't make it less captivating, bleak and capable of getting under your skin and stick there; a fantastic debut.

  The story seems to be about societal rejects being more or less forced to choose to life on the bottom of the ocean, handling gigantic geothermal power stations which feed the never ending hunger for energy on the surface. These people are weird, yucky and very damaged.

  The main character is a victim of abuse that gets off on getting abused, surrounded by people like pedophiles, bullies, murderers, violent criminals and so on that have to somehow work together. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't work. However, slowly, being alone on the bottom of the ocean, surrounded by gigantic yet fragile monsters, she realizes she likes it, as do the others. Freed from the artificial pressures of society and surface environment, they almost turn into a different species.

  Then the story changes subject with the interference of the surface people who just naturally assume they know better and driven by a terrible secret. That secret leads to some extreme events which... end the book and prepare sequels. Starfish does psychopathology, brain organelles, deep marine biology, claustrophobic tension, weird romance, social commentary, deep state politics and the banality of human evil.

  Now, I don't think I want to read the rest of the series. By own admission from the author, this was a short story turned novel. I would rather reread the amazing Blindsight and maybe get to that book's sequel instead. However it was a fascinating story, being mostly uneventful, yet also never boring. How does Watts make that happen?

  I will end with the most hilarious review, from Analog magazine:

Watts’s true enemy is human stupidity, the sort of thing that turns children into walking disaster zones, treats adults as interchangeable things, insists that unchecked fertility is a good thing, and blindly trusts that our artificially intelligent creations must share our priorities. As Watts develops that point, he tells an absorbing tale set in a bizarre world and hinging upon intriguing technology. He’s done his homework well, and it shows.

  

  I said earlier that Circle of Inevitability was half the size of Lord of Mysteries. That was a lie. I only had half of the book. Probably the entire thing is going to be as big if not larger.

  It doesn't matter, though. I reached almost the end of Volume 4, where Lumian becomes Fate Appropriator and decided to finally stop. It was a good run, but whatever comes next is unlikely to bring anything new to the table. Let me explain why.

  In my previous hopeful reviews I said that "Cuttlefish" was improving his writing style, by making the stakes higher and the emotional impact more meaningful. After all, Lumian is a young man driven by both revenge and hope, marred by his sister's death, marked by two gods amongst which one is evil, having a corrupting influence sealed within him. I was envisioning a very different story arc, complete with half villainous failings, followed by righteous redemptions. Or, why not, going full villain. But that didn't happen.

  You see, I already mentioned that these novels feel like someone is telling the story of a manga or anime they have in their head. This series made me remember vividly the Jojo's Adventures series and once it was in my head, I couldn't help see the similarities. They both start with complicated worldbuilding, compelling characters and strict rules, only to devolve into a monster of the episode kind of thing, with consistency being thrown out of the window and the "smart" method for victory becoming more ludicrous as we go alone.

  I do appreciate the opportunity to delve into the Asian way of considering life and conflict, though. A stark contrast with American storytelling, the main character doesn't succeed based on luck and the strength of his emotions, but on careful consideration of the situation and preparation in advance. Even the emotional outbursts or violent episodes are actually a facade for the cold calculation beneath. Also the way in which women just can't seem to help being deferential and submissive to their male counterparts, accepting with just a little bit of dismay that they are smarter, more decisive and grow faster than they are.

  Lumian becomes a carbon copy of the character of Klein Moretti, only he "smiles warmly" instead of "smirking". There is another lesbian duo of relatively weak helpers who the story occasionally focuses a lot on for no good reason. The rules established in the first series are completely broken by a new system of "boons" from external gods, making anything and everything possible, except catching Lumian off guard or actually causing defeat. Even the connection between eras and the link between the current one and the one people have transmigrated from is different. And being a transmigrator is just a regular thing now, anyone and everyone seems to be one.

  But what's worse is that the same psychopathic behavior from the first book, where the end goal is paramount and emotion, physical pain or behavior are secondary, comes back in full force and makes the whole experience feel empty, like you are watching some random guy playing a computer game on low difficulty, always smirking about how smart he is, when the story outcome was already ... inevitable.

  Bottom line, I will rate this series 2.5 stars. It's not bad, but it's not good either once the novelty of the point of view wanes. The first one was better and this one feels like a bad carbon copy. Perhaps now I can finally focus on a real book.

  OK, so I started reading the second book of the Lord of Mysteries series. It feels more... experimental. In terms of plot, it's kind of the same, though. Same fish out of water (pardon the pun) starting from Sequence 9 and raising in level, same idea of trying to figure things out, same unexplained quirk that no one else has, even a Tarot Club further on. So, if you expected a continuation of book 1, maybe later?

  Circle of Inevitability starts really slow. Something remotely interesting only happens 15% of this first volume in. But then a lot of mind twisting events go on, ending with an epic twist that I don't want to spoil.

  For me, this is already a sort of challenge, so I will probably finish this book as I did the first, but to be honest I am a bit disappointed. I wanted to know what happened with the characters I knew, not start "a new game" with a different character hoping that maybe I will understand in a few thousand pages how the events in the first book reached any conclusion. Also, the main character doesn't work for me. An orphan saved by a "big sister", a self proclaimed prank master. And if I may pile on that, the story is ridiculous, as it happens in a small village, but with so many high level actors.

  The writing ifeels more experimental: more stakes, more negative outcomes, more emotional evolution, but not that much. The main character doesn't come off as a psychopath as in the first book, but he still veers in that direction when it comes to unbearable pain or personal loss. I personally like the grand god level magic parts, things that would turn a normal person into a quivering mess without any spiritual or mystical influence, but to have characters that just shrug things off and get on with their quest feels like watching someone else playing a video game.

  Bottom line: some improvements, some disappointments. I will continue to read the rest, see how it goes.