The Hidden City by Michelle West

Just like instantly loving the voice of a singer upon hearing them for the first time, reading a book can offer the opportunity to fall in love with a writer’s voice (their written style). If Michelle West was a singer, she would be Michael Bublé. I know that’s a weird comparison because of their gender differences, but Michael has that smooth, strong tone—and that’s what it felt like reading The Hidden City by West.

This book “had me at hello,” you could say. The first sentence introduces Rath, a spy/thief/man of quiet competence and mysterious talents. After a while getting to know him, he runs into Jewel, a newly orphaned girl with an intriguing gift; and it is this girl, the one with the unruly auburn curls, who quickly becomes the story’s driving force.

The Good

Michelle West does many things well in this novel. The most noticeable expert-level craft she employs in her plot construction. She separates the chapters into pristine portions, each one offering the same great taste to a reader’s healthy appetite, and each a perfect link in the love-every-step-of-this-long-journey novel. It’s not her plot that jumps out at first, though. The author has a master’s touch. The paragraphs and sentences are not overly flashy, but each one is orchestrated with the same attention to detail and thoughtful engineering. Jewel and Rath end up journeying together in a slowly unfolding plot, the odd couple attempting to unravel a sinister plot threatening the whole city.

The Bad

The novel is a bit long. Though I temper this criticism with the fact that I enjoyed the moment to moment reading so much, West could have made it even longer and I’d have still stayed on for the whole ride! She’s a good driver.

Additionally, the book never took me places that wowed me with raw power and beauty. West tends more toward the meticulously arranged story, as opposed to one martialed by brute force. Near the end of the novel, West adds too many new main characters (other orphans Jewel rescues) at once, without enough description to keep them clearly differentiated.

The Ugly

The core characters build together over time, allowing the reader to get used to them—a trait I admired. And, although the story begins with Rath, a cautious nobleman/thief-warrior, Jewel is the one to watch. She initiates the story into all it of its hairy predicaments. What else are children for, right?

Throughout, West pursues a bigger picture narrative, and though character insights are many, I never felt a lot of personal empathy or sympathy for the characters due to West’s manner of giving those insights. Something didn't quite penetrate to an emotional level, for me. I’m not bothered by that fact, though. My hunger and love for West’s superb plot far outweighs the issue.

The House War series by West stands out among my autumnal reading—I’m quite excited about seeing where the rest of the saga leads!

The Silvered by Tanya Huff

Sometimes, a book takes you by surprise in the latter stages, sort of like an upset victory during a boxing match. Though The Silvered, by Tanya Huff, didn't catch me with a last ditch haymaker in round three, it did pull me slowly into quite the engaging story.

The Good

Huff’s novel flexes most strongly in the realm of content. Some writers shine in specific features of their craft: a few pen poetic prose, many weave together wonderful story lines, and still others excel in dishing out the action—keeping the reader’s imagination bustling. In this work, a fascinating coupling appears: mages marrying werewolves.

Creepy? A little.

Gross? At times.

Fascinating? Definitely.

The ensuing werewolf/mage dynamics propel the story into explosive situations, literally. Mirian, for instance, is a failed mage student who engages readers with her blunt sensibility, quest for identity, and her hidden, destructive power. She is rather enduring. The Silvered’s irritatingly slow-growth plot line eventually burgeons into a wonderful crescendo of escape, battle, and justice. By the end, I was okay having temporarily shelved my inhibitions about the novel’s first half.

The Bad

Huff struggled to hold my interest at the outset. The sentence-level writing could have been more beautiful—it suffered from an affectation for that gray, utilitarian-prose. Everyone knows not to serve fancy food on paper plates. What a contradiction that would be! Unfortunately, even though I knew the story had potential, I found myself yawning at Huff’s delivery style.

Much too late in the story I realized that the Imperial army characters and the werewolf Pack characters I had originally thought were allies, separated in a large scale battlefield, were, in fact, enemies. While possible that my confusion stemmed primarily from my own disengaged reading (due to the drab writing), a few simple, clear, delineating sentences, early on, could have cleared up the lack of distinction.

The Ugly

The first chapter could have used a rewrite. It’s no secret that we readers are an impatient, self-absorbed lot—we want our engaging prose/situations, and we want them by page one. Huff attempted to give those wild, preliminary, action-packed scenes, but it ended up losing me in a maze of unmarked characters and situations. We readers also need clear road signs. Impossible to please our every desire, I know. But, it’s an author’s job to try.

Simply put, a bit more framework for the novel’s world could have gone a long way in structuring the story for maximum effect.

The characters enjoy a lot of non-explicit sensual content. It’s not porn the way Huff writes it; but it sure is intimate! Apparently, being a werewolf means you are, at times, a slave to your hunger for food and sex and revenge. I like the former, and I’m even a fan of the latter (when well-written), but I could have done with about half as many reminders about how basely sexual the male characters were.

If I had my way, I would have taken Huff’s fascinating ideas on magic, science, and warfare, and placed them in a higher caste of writing—dressing the fascinating content in its rightful clothing—that of a loftier style and conviction.

Warbreaker by Brandon Sanderson

I've known about Brandon Sanderson for a few years now. But, I've never read him. I had heard he wrote the end of Robert Jordan's epic series, The Wheel of Time—and my dad (who loves the series) said he did a good job. So, with that in mind, I decided to try out one of his novels. I know that Mistborn series is super popular these days, but I settled for Warbreaker since that's what the library had in stock. Enough of that though, it's time for the nitty gritty!

The Good

There is a reason Sanderson was chosen to complete the writing of Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. The "new guy on the block" (as I think of him) is good. His writing definitely isn't like the dense, deep work of other fiction giants like Tolkien or Frank Herbert. That said, though, Sanderson has gotten down the important part: a flow that keeps the reader hooked. I should know, because I read the second half of the book in one six-hour sitting. I couldn't put it down. I had to know what was going to happen to all the deliciously interesting plot lines!

The characters were lovable and enduring—seriously. I couldn't help but really begin to like the ever-witty Lightsong, or the heartfelt, brash Siri. You know the story is good if it makes you mourn or celebrate with the characters. 

I read somewhere that Sanderson says he is known for the magic systems he thinks up for his novels. I can see why! In this novel, not only is the idea of breathing magic cool, but the outplay of it is, as well! 

The Bad

I am a skeptic. Specifically of new and hip movements that lots of people love. One of the movements I naturally distrust is the contemporary fantasy fiction genre of literature. But wait! Not because I dislike fantasy - au contraire mon frére - the fantasy genre is one of my favorites, but I like my reading to contain a little thing called meaning. Meaning is like the little toy inside a box of cracker jacks: You can eat the lot of 'em, taste the savory flavors and crunchy caramel-covered popcorn, but if you get to the bottom of the box and it's empty—no toy—you feel cheated. Outraged, even! What is this world coming to? Now, you have nothing solid or meaningful to take away from your enjoyable experience. You just munch away until you're done, you experience one moment of disgust, and then you throw the box away and forget about the whole thing. THAT is what reading a book without meaning is like.

Unfortunately for Warbreaker, that is how I felt after reading it. I enjoyed the story very much, but could sense something missing: an aura of gravitas—something of greater import than just the story itself. 

The Ugly (a.k.a. straight talk, According to Wilson)

My cerebral humor delighted in reading Lightsong's dialogue. I laughed a lot! His self-deprecating banter and his zippy quips had me guffawing louder than a hillbilly watching a city-slicker trying to catch a greased hog. Bravo, Sanderson. You win this round. Even despite the lack of a greater takeaway from the novel than just a good experience, I would still pick up another of his novels and read it, knowing I would love the whole thing. Yes, I'd be wanting more, but for meaning in the fantasy genre, I guess I can always go back to the classic forefathers: Tolkien and Lewis.

Dune

The novel has been hailed for decades as "Science Fiction's Supreme Masterpiece," and to think, I hadn't even touched it until two weeks ago! Dune, by Frank Herbert, is about a young boy with special talents, destined for greatness on a mysterious desert planet which, as the story progresses, becomes the focal point of the most powerful people in the universe.
I went to the library on a whim and pulled it off the shelf, determined to quash my skepticism about the book. I had known about the novel for a while - how popular it was, something about a desert tribe and caves and sand worms - but never really heard what the book was actually about.

The Good

Right off the bat, the sentence level writing shows a practiced, blossoming hand. Herbert packs the lines with multiple meanings, depth, and value. After reading this novel, and then picking up another (lesser known) sci-fi author's work, the difference was clear. Frank Herbert wrote a book with rich substance where others just don't have the same chops. The story line is captivating, pulling the reader into a wonderfully multi-tiered political/religious/interpersonal plot. The background, the names, organizations, characters, and environments stand the test of authenticity. They've clearly been researched and refined so that every aspect of Dune seems as real as possible.

The Bad

The book demands, as many classics do, perseverance to read through the first sections. Herbert doesn't pull any punches. He doesn't allow the reader a gradual, friendly entry into the world of Dune. At its outset, this is a drop-you-in-the-jungle-(or should I say desert?)-and-see-if-you-survive type of book. The foreign names, places, and customs slow down reading comprehension. Also, the book is rather long. It includes a wealth of information that many "give me the action scene already" people would find irrelevant or annoying, but for any nerds out there, this book runneth over with science-y facts.

The Ugly (a.k.a. the book according to Wilson)


Despite my personal recognition early on that the book would require a large time investment to get comfortable with all the weird names of people and places, I could feel that the story wouldn't disappoint. Herbert takes a while to get where he goes in writing, but I hardly felt all the miles during the journey. The story shapes Paul, the main character, in a manner fascinating to watch. I may not have liked how his morality is transformed and somewhat twisted, but, in the end, I'm not too upset about it. The clashes between ruling monarchy, subjugated tribal minority, and secretive merchant class stir up delightful uncertainty throughout. Friends and family undergo the tension of war and betrayal. Every choice leads to a different future. Will it be all out galactic war, or a world of peace and prosperity? I'll let you find out.