Bring on the Fantasy

Not all fantasy has to be grim …

After having a back and forth chat with an online friend about fantasy reads, I admitted I had never read GRRM and was not likely too, ever. The truth is I’ve not read a great deal of fantasy over the last 4-5 years and it took the likes of the masterful SA Chakraborty and her Daevabad trilogy to rekindle my love of the genre before Covid hit us hard.

Well, not all aspects of the genre, which has, in the intervening years since I started, spawned as many sub genre as science fiction has. Including the one I dislike the most and the one that seems to be a fantasy fan’s favourite these days if BookTok is anything to go by. I’m talking about grimdark. The very same genre that GRRM seems to be like writing. The kind that is extra violent. The kind wikipedia says of:

Grimdark is a subgenre of speculative fiction with a tone, style, or setting that is particularly dystopian, amoral, and violent.

My fantasy reading preference lean more towards the stories Chakraborty and a clutch of other new and emergent authors write. Writers adding a fresh new slant to some familiar tropes and making them their own. Check out these authors if you haven’t already done so:

  • Luke Arnold — The Last Smile in Sunder City

  • Devon Madson — We Ride The Storm, In Shadows We Fall

  • Nafiza Azad — The Candle and the Flame

  • Sarah Beth Durst — Race the Sands

  • Dan Hanks — Captain Moxley and the Embers of the Empire

  • Malinda Lo — Ash

  • Jim C. Hines — The Stepsister Scheme, The Mermaid’s Madness

  • Robert Jackson Bennett — Tainted Cup, Foundryside

And you, what new fantasy authors have you discovered lately, if any?

A Bird in the Bush

It’s cool, it’s overcast and showers are forecast for throughout the day. I took my early morning brew out on the balcony to listen to the sparrows chatter, watched two squirrels fighting over who owns the privacy hedge, and didn’t have the heart to tell them: neither of them do. That it’s the dominion of the sparrows.

Their number has grown extensively in the time me and mine have been living in the apartment. And not least because I put fat balls out for them during the winter, along with seed, and make sure there’s always fresh water for them.

It’s not allowed. It’s in the apartment least: do not feed the wildlife. But, until they serve papers on me, I’m not about to stop. This for me is a joy, a pleasure, one that comes with its own small rewards, even if I might find myself in trouble one day.

I’d fight tooth and nail that I can put out on my balcony anything I want, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone. And yes, I’m well aware of the reasoning behind the lease clause: to stop rats. But I’ve yet to see any rats let alone one that can climb the side of the wall up to our balcony–some 20 feet. And I never throw stuff down onto the grassed areas. Please, credit me some sense.

As a result of my small effort, the sparrow population has definitely grown. As a keen birdwatcher, I’ve observed the small flock grow from about a dozen or so to fifty plus. There seems to be 3 distinct groups. And, with the extra space and feeding area of our neighbouring small park, the sparrows are doing well.

This in turn has had a knock on effect. Birds of prey and crows are more numerous and frequent in hunting this area. Of course they are. Especially as young fledgling sparrows start to leave the nest nagging their parents for food.

I’ve also noted an increase in other bird species passing through our area on feeding runs, through out the year. Everything from grackles, to red and yellow cardinals, and an assortment of chickadees. And the one whose song me and mine have fallen in love with?

The song sparrow. I don’t know how many there are in our area. But by the back and forth of song first thing in the morning and as evening falls, at least a handful.

Life is good.

The Breach by M. T. Hill

THE BREACH has everything going for it, a great premise, scary action tinged with an overlay of creeping terror, and a promise of a shock or two along the way. That said, however, this one fell short, for me at least, on one major count: characterisation. And anyone who knows me, and reads my reviews regularly will know, it put a great deal of emphasis on characters and their arcs. I want to see them grow, I want to see depth, I want to believe in these people and, therefore, how they’re challenged by the situations they find themselves in.

Sadly, The Breach never quite delivered on any of those counts when it comes to the two main protagonists. Whose shoulders, quite frankly, the weight of this story, and its premise, fall upon. They never really hit the right notes, especially Freya Medlock (the Journalist) who had about as much depth as the paper she was printed on. A generic female with little if any personality.

The other main character, a steeplejack by trade, Shep (short for Shepard) does at least have a little more going for him, but not much. I wanted so much more from these two, that the author just failed to deliver on. For instance, Shep is in an exceptionally dangerous line of work, he literally hangs off the side of soaring brick towers, and petrochemical factory structures hundreds of feet up in the air, in all weather.

Yet, all these scenes setting up who he is and what he does, and these amazing set pieces of daring, all fall flat. We never really get a feel for the danger he’s in. When we should be feeling his vertigo, and keen sense of awareness, we’re given a guidebook tour of the view or his wandering thoughts. And thus, the prose lack any real edge to it.

Which belies how creepy and downright horrific everything becomes—accompanied by a foreboding sense of terror—when Shep (and then later, Shep and Freya) are beneath ground during one of Shep’s ‘Urbex’ missions into a restricted abandoned site hidding a frightening secret.

It’s here, in these two chapters, that we really see everything ‘light’ up and come to life in a way only a nightmare can—in a dark, damp, creepy fashion. Making us wonder what’s behind us, stalking us from the deep dark depths of our own imaginations.

Here is Hill’s writing strength—which are too few and far between the humdrum set of the rest of the novel—that make this a terrifying read. And, as such, The Breach could have been an outstanding horror read but, in the end for me at least, it just never quite reached the finish line.

Way too much filler and not enough action.