Review: After Atlas by Emma Newman

Image from http://www.enewman.co.uk/

After Atlas
Emma Newman
Roc, 10 November 2016
PB, 365pp

Source: Copy bought from Forbidden Planet at author signing (see below)

Emma Newman continues to impress me with her smart, slightly twisted takes on SF - in this case, she asks "what about those left behind?"

The earlier book, Planetfall, set in the same universe as After Atlas, focussed on human settlers to a new world some 20 years in. It showed how they had been drawn there by almost religious fervour, and what happened next - with a startling twist. The concept reminded me of classic Star Trek except for the deep, empathetic portrayal of the main character and her weaknesses which gave the book so much heart.

Now, we're back on Earth at the same time (I think) as the Planetfall events. We see the awful place earth has become, which the colonists on Atlas wanted to escape. The remorseless march or corporatism has swallowed governments, which have become "gov-corps". Everyone is surveilled all the time, most people have chips embedded and there seem to be no human rights, only contracts - and some are trapped by those contracts into something not far off slavery.

Carlos is one such. Owned by the Ministry of Justice in the UK, he's been trained and formed ('hot-housed') into the perfect criminal investigator. He will work to 80 or thereabouts to repay the cost of his purchase with any failure, any rebellion punished by extra years on the contract. Yet as we find out later he has an easy time compared to some.

Carlos is brought in to solve a high profile case involving the leader of a religious sect - the Circle - from the US. The Circle consists of the people left behind when Atlas flew - one of whom was Carlos's mother (Newman makes a telling point that there's more blame heaped on the mother who left her child than the many fathers). he used to be a member of the Circle so he's ideally placed to understand what happened in a remote hotel in Devon. (The case also gives him the chance to enjoy real - non printed - food: Carlos's love of good food is an enjoyable diversion against a fairly grim background).

The book then adopts the mode - if not the normal setting - of a police procedural, with forensics, pathology, the search for evidence and a rising sense that something is off, someone isn't playing by the rules. We gradually come to sympathise with Carlos more and more, not least the grief and anger which he is clearly bottling up - assisted by the lessons from his hot-housing. He's an awkward, slightly spiky character and so, so alone.

Then - things change. I can't say too much about this for fear of spoilers but the book moves into a different mode. Something awful happens to Carlos and the stakes are suddenly much higher. Then Newman redoubles the jeopardy yet again, boosting things both to a new level of danger but also changing the sort of book this is in a heartbreaking conclusion. I was left standing in the dark on a cold railway platform so that I could read the last few pages before I drove home - it's that compelling. This is, in short, a compulsive and disturbing read. As well as sheer, relentless story we get to see the lives of those shut out of the glamorous space adventure described in Planetfall. Of course we know how that turned out - they don't, and many are damaged: Carlos's father, driven to grief and despair, for example. That's an angle on space-faring and the Final Frontier that you don't normally see.

It isn't perfect - I wonder if perhaps that first twist might come a bit sooner, as there is relatively little time then to explore the consequences? Things then seem a bit rushed at the end. But it's a testament to the power of the writing that I'm only saying that in hindsight: when you're in this book you just want it to keep coming and coming.

The best thing of all is, though, that there surely MUST be more books to come now in the Planetfall universe? It can't just end like this, can it? Please Emma?

The author reading from After Atlas at Forbidden Planet London
(12 November 2016)

The Lost Child of Lychford

Image from http://www.paulcornell.com/

The Lost Child of Lychford
Paul Cornell
Tor.com, 22 November 2016
PB, 130pp

I'm grateful to the publisher for an advance copy via NetGalley

It’s December in the English village of Lychford – the first Christmas since an evil conglomerate tried to force open the borders between our world and… another.

Which means it’s Lizzie’s first Christmas as Reverend of St. Martin’s. Which means more stress, more expectation, more scrutiny by the congregation. Which means… well, business as usual, really.

Until the apparition of a small boy finds its way to Lizzie in the church. Is he a ghost? A vision? Something else? Whatever the truth, our trio of witches (they don’t approve of “coven”) are about to face their toughest battle, yet!

I am NOT Paul Cornell. Like him, however, I am married to a Church of England priest and live in a small community in Southern England. So I am loving this series (see here for review of The Witches of Lychford) as much for its depiction of the joys and frustrations of life in such a community, as for the supernatural spooky stuff.

The supernatural, spooky stuff is, is though, magnificently done, truly eerie and frightening. Lychford seems to be something of a spiritual front line, its streets carefully oriented to defend the town against incursions from outside and a trio of 'witches' - Lizzie, the new Vicar, Autumn, proprietor of the town's New Age shop and Judith, more of a traditional witchy type - on guard against incursions. The  supportive grumbling between the three women is one of the nice points of this story.

Like the previous previous book, this is short, a novella but - with the setting and characters now established - more of it can focus on plot and building tension, so it perhaps works slightly better in this length than Witches did - not to say that wasn't a great read, but you perhaps get more story here.

Again, Lychford is under attack but it's a more subtle, almost snide kind of attack and some of it has clearly taken place offstage, as it were. We're left - for a bit - to divine just what's going on, as Judith continues to care for her revenant husband, Autumn looks after her shop and Lizzie devotes herself to the rush of Chtistmas activities, supplemented by a couple from Swindon who want their wedding on Christmas Eve. (If there's ever a suggestion of a Christmas Eve wedding here me, my son and the dog will take drastic measures, up to and including organ sabotage). Is there a bad case of the midwinter blues (plus overwork) going on here or something sinister? This being Lychford, we can guess the answer...

Cornell gradually ratchets up tension, keeping the reader guessing about just what is going to happen (and about the place of that little lost ghost in it all). Then he springs his trap and all seems hopeless. In the darkest part of the year, the dark seems to be rising...

A wonderful, chilly tale, whether you treat it as a Christmas ghost story or a slice of cosmic horror. The author is clearly having fun with Lychford - and the Church! - and I hope there are more of these coming.

Blogtour - The Finnish Invasion: The Exiled by Kati Hiekkapelto

The Exiled (Anne Fekete 3)
Kati Hiekkapelto (trans David Hackston)
Oranda Books, 15 November 2016
PB, 295pp

I'm grateful to Orenda for a review copy of the book.

I've never taken part in an invasion before, let alone a Finnish one, so it's exciting to take my place in the ranks of this truly epic blog tour (see banner at the foot of the post) reviewing both Kati Hiekkapelto's new Anna Fekete books, and in a few days, Antii Tuomainen's The Mine. 

That said... Finnish? Well, as readers of Anna's earlier adventures will know she's not Finnish. Well, not exactly. Inspector Fekete is of course a Finnish citizen, but she's from Serbia, originally, a refugee from the civil war that broke up Yugoslavia. And in this book, she's home for a holiday. (Needless to say, things don't go smoothly). To add a wrinkle to things, Anna is ethnically Hungarian - that's her mother tongue - and the book makes passing references to the use of Hungarian rather than Serbian at times. So - just to be clear - I'm reviewing the English translation of a book written in Finnish about a woman from Serbia who has settled in Finland but is also Hungarian.

I think that's rather wonderful. At a time when strutting idiots are doing their best to stoke hatred and divisions and draw neat little boxes all around us, here is a book celebrating the wonderful, true messiness of life in Europe.

Of course, as you'd expect, it really does get messy for Anna. One of the themes of the book is precisely her lack of roots. While she's happily settled in Finland, it isn't home, any more than Kanizsa, the village she originally came from, is home. Or perhaps both are? With a father who died when she was a girl, and a brother killed in the war, she spends much of this book considering her identity - mainly through the lens of the Serbian culture: the casual attitude to life, from things like eating, drinking and smoking to not wearing seatbelts or indeed, when on the river, lifejackets. Small things, but significant. Caught between the culture she grew up with and that of her original home, Anna's ready to follow anything that promises to root her.

So when she stumbles on a mystery surrounding her father's death, we know she won't follow the wise advice of everyone around her and leave well alone.

That's not just down to mere curiosity of course: as in her previous cases we see a doggedness in Anna - she won't be told what to do, pursuing first the thief who stole her bag then the murderer who killed him and, finally, the little girl left alone and unprotected by that death. One rather pities anyone who gets in Anna's way.

Like the last book in this series, The Defenceless, The Exiled is preoccupied with the refugee crisis facing Europe. (It's interesting how one's natural instinct is to phrase this as a problem for Europe - when of course the point is that it's at worst, a minor problem for Europe but a catastrophe for the unfortunates who have had to flee their homes). Hiekkapelto dissects attitudes to the refugees and shows normal people being variously heroic, inhuman or just unheeding about it all. She also rather deftly displays the workings of society in Kanisza - the local political fixer, the police, the priest, the Romani who were treated as bottom of the pile until the refugees came along. It's a far from ideal society, perhaps, but it's a place Anna understands deeply, even if she couldn't live there, and being 'home' for a while only adds to her sense of alienation.

In many ways this is then as much a book about belonging (or not) as it is a straight crime story. At times the theft/ murder plot almost vanishes to be replaced by this study in (dis)location, illustrated not only through the refugees but also in Anna herself. A recurring motif is Anna's stolen passport which of course she needs to get back to Finland at the end of her stay. She keeps forgetting to report it and collect a new one. What does that say? Yes, Anna is busy with her informal (yet still pretty sophisticated) investigation - but there seems a little more to it than that. And the local boy with whim she has a brief fling (to her mother's disapproval. Real love, lust, or - perhaps - a need for something solid in her life (despite angry words when her mother urges her to settle down).

It's difficult to say. We'll have to read more about Anna and find out.

An excellent further instalment to this series which only deepens the reader's understanding and sympathy for Anna (even though she can be a bit awkward at times...)

Sherlock Holmes and The Shadwell Shadows by James Lovegrove

Image from titanbooks.com

The Cthulhu Casebooks: Sherlock Holmes and the Shadwell Shadows
James Lovegrove
Titan Books, 15 November 2016
HB, 448pp

I'm grateful to the publisher for an advance copy of this book.

It is the autumn of 1880, and Dr John Watson has just returned from Afghanistan. Badly injured and desperate to forget a nightmarish expedition that left him doubting his sanity, Watson is close to destitution when he meets the extraordinary Sherlock Holmes, who is investigating a series of deaths in the Shadwell district of London. Several bodies have been found, the victims appearing to have starved to death over the course of several weeks, and yet they were reported alive and well mere days before. Moreover, there are disturbing reports of creeping shadows that inspire dread in any who stray too close. Holmes deduces a connection between the deaths and a sinister drug lord who is seeking to expand his criminal empire. Yet both he and Watson are soon forced to accept that there are forces at work far more powerful than they could ever have imagined. Forces that can be summoned, if one is brave – or mad – enough to dare…

I love a bit of Sherlock Holmes, so was delighted when Titan offered me a copy of the first book in this new series by James Lovegrove.

In his preface, Lovegrove relates the unlikely tale of hos his hitherto unknown family connection with HP Lovecraft led to the receipt of three yellowing typescripts, the work of none other than Dr John Watson, recounting the true story of his adventures with Sherlock Holmes. Are they real? Are they fake? Is the rarefied world of Holmesian scholarship about to be unset? or are even worse revelations in store?

I enjoyed this foray into an almost MR Jamesian world of lost manuscripts and unspeakable horror. Because of course, as the title proclaims, what we have here is the fusion of two great pantheons of popular literature. Holmes and Watson are supported by Mrs Hudson, Gregson, Lestrade and Mycroft - in their world of 221B, fog and hansom cabs (there's a hilarious bit where Lovegrove shows off his knowledge of clarences, growlers and who knows what else wheeled conveyances). Lurking underneath, though, are Elder Gods, tentacles horrors, sanity-blasting books and obsessed cultists.

In the hands of a less skilled writer this could have been a real mess. These two worlds have very distinct rules. While Holmes adventures may have a touch of the sensational and even Gothic, that's only to show off Holmes's superb rationalistic deductive power. And while some of Lovecraft's stories do permit a (temporary) success in driving back the cosmic horror, that's only to counterpoint the cold, bleak despair of what is surely coming to devour us.

Yet Lovegrove does a superb job in combining these immiscible essences, allowing the Great Detective and the Good Doctor to discover sinister horrors and reason themselves in ton accepting them as the only explanation - once the impossible has been removed - for the horrible deaths stalking Shadwell.

On the way, we're treated to a good pastiche of a late Victoria shocker: opium dens, vice ridden dives in the East End and so forth. Of course Lovegrove is writing for a modern audience and he properly contextualises the 'sinister Chinaman' stereotype, making it clear how the opium trade began with the British Empire and dwelling on the horrors inflicted on China. They aren't, of course, cosmic, but one can compare the results of colonialism with the eager, hungry desire of ancient gods to come and consume humanity.

It's all great fun, very smartly done, and with enough enjoyable Holmes references - Watson explains that his earlier stories were distortions, intended to make the truth - to keep the keenest Baker Street Irregular on their toes.

Two further volumes are promised and I look forward to them. My only criticism - and it's a bit of a picky point - would be that in my mind, the classic Sherlock Holmes tale is a short story, Conan Doyle only having written a handful of full length novels. The short story is suited to an incident, a satisfying episode or a minor crime and to highlighting Holmes's methods and world. The novel requires a more spectacular resolution and when you're dealing with Cthulhu and his ilk for 'spectacular' read 'life limiting'. So I'd welcome some short stories set in this world as well, if Mr Lovegrove could oblige...?

Sherlock Holmes and The Shadwell Shadow by James Lovegrove

Image from titanbooks.com

The Cthulhu Casebooks: Sherlock Holmes and the Shadwell Shadows
James Lovegrove
Titan Books, 15 November 2016
HB, 448pp

I'm grateful to the publisher for an advance copy of this book.

It is the autumn of 1880, and Dr John Watson has just returned from Afghanistan. Badly injured and desperate to forget a nightmarish expedition that left him doubting his sanity, Watson is close to destitution when he meets the extraordinary Sherlock Holmes, who is investigating a series of deaths in the Shadwell district of London. Several bodies have been found, the victims appearing to have starved to death over the course of several weeks, and yet they were reported alive and well mere days before. Moreover, there are disturbing reports of creeping shadows that inspire dread in any who stray too close. Holmes deduces a connection between the deaths and a sinister drug lord who is seeking to expand his criminal empire. Yet both he and Watson are soon forced to accept that there are forces at work far more powerful than they could ever have imagined. Forces that can be summoned, if one is brave – or mad – enough to dare…

I love a bit of Sherlock Holmes, so was delighted when Titan offered me a copy of the first book in this new series by James Lovegrove.

In his preface, Lovegrove relates the unlikely tale of hos his hitherto unknown family connection with HP Lovecraft led to the receipt of three yellowing typescripts, the work of none other than Dr John Watson, recounting the true story of his adventures with Sherlock Holmes. Are they real? Are they fake? Is the rarefied world of Holmesian scholarship about to be unset? or are even worse revelations in store?

I enjoyed this foray into an almost MR Jamesian world of lost manuscripts and unspeakable horror. Because of course, as the title proclaims, what we have here is the fusion of two great pantheons of popular literature. Holmes and Watson are supported by Mrs Hudson, Gregson, Lestrade and Mycroft - in their world of 221B, fog and hansom cabs (there's a hilarious bit where Lovegrove shows off his knowledge of clarences, growlers and who knows what else wheeled conveyances). Lurking underneath, though, are Elder Gods, tentacles horrors, sanity-blasting books and obsessed cultists.

In the hands of a less skilled writer this could have been a real mess. These two worlds have very distinct rules. While Holmes adventures may have a touch of the sensational and even Gothic, that's only to show off Holmes's superb rationalistic deductive power. And while some of Lovecraft's stories do permit a (temporary) success in driving back the cosmic horror, that's only to counterpoint the cold, bleak despair of what is surely coming to devour us.

Yet Lovegrove does a superb job in combining these immiscible essences, allowing the Great Detective and the Good Doctor to discover sinister horrors and reason themselves in ton accepting them as the only explanation - once the impossible has been removed - for the horrible deaths stalking Shadwell.

On the way, we're treated to a good pastiche of a late Victoria shocker: opium dens, vice ridden dives in the East End and so forth. Of course Lovegrove is writing for a modern audience and he properly contextualises the 'sinister Chinaman' stereotype, making it clear how the opium trade began with the British Empire and dwelling on the horrors inflicted on China. They aren't, of course, cosmic, but one can compare the results of colonialism with the eager, hungry desire of ancient gods to come and consume humanity.

It's all great fun, very smartly done, and with enough enjoyable Holmes references - Watson explains that his earlier stories were distortions, intended to make the truth - to keep the keenest Baker Street Irregular on their toes.

Two further volumes are promised and I look forward to them. My only criticism - and it's a bit of a picky point - would be that in my mind, the classic Sherlock Holmes tale is a short story, Conan Doyle only having written a handful of full length novels. The short story is suited to an incident, a satisfying episode or a minor crime and to highlighting Holmes's methods and world. The novel requires a more spectacular resolution and when you're dealing with Cthulhu and his ilk for 'spectacular' read 'life limiting'. So I'd welcome some short stories set in this world as well, if Mr Lovegrove could oblige...?

The Shadow of What Was Lost

The Shadow of What Was Lost: Volume 1 of the Licanius Trilogy
James Islington
Orbit, 10 November 2016
HB, 693pp
Source: Review copy gratefully received from Orbit

The North is full of tangled things, and texts, and aching eyes...

It's a while since I've got properly sunk into a real epic fantasy tome* so in some ways this book was like coming home. There is magic. There are swords, legions of faceless antagonists, mysterious visions - and shifty motivations.

The story opens at a school where the young (magically) Gifted are taught to control their powers. One the even of the test which will determine his future, young Davian is selected for a task which will take him far from Caladel. One of the things I soon appreciated about this book was the gentle air of menace surrounding pretty much everything and everyone. Far from being welcomed and revered, the Gifted are despised, barely tolerated, and forced to subscribe to the 'Four Tenets' that limit their powers. Even so limited, they are likely to be beaten up in the streets, spat at or chased out of shops. By absconding, Davian puts himself in danger of - at best - having his powers snuffed out, at worst, of being cornered by a lynch mob. (Ever watched one of those old horror films and wondered what it would be like to draw the attention of the pitchfork wielding villagers?) And the irony of it is that he has no powers that he can control anyway. So his mission seems doubly hopeless - as are all the best fantasy quests.

Of course there is more - a great deal more - to this story than that. For Davian, it's a growing up, as he - slowly - discovers what is special about him, and learns painful lessons about trust - giving and receiving it. Others of those he meets must recover memories to learn who they truly are, take their rightful place in the kingdom or come to terms with devastating personal change and loss.

Because in this book, nobody seems to be what or who they say they are. Much of the plot is about slowly peeling away the layers, revealing motivations - political, magical, prophetic - and seeing just how complex and entangled human nature can really be. At times things become so tangled that they resemble a PG Wodehouse plot and one longs for a stern Aunt Agatha to stamp her foot and command order. But the truth is that in the world of this book, no-one is in control. Not the King, not the Northwarden, certainly not the Elders of the Gifted. The Augurs, godlike beings who ruled the Gifted (and seem to have been pretty nasty, to be honest) are all dead - and Bad Things are happening.

It's an inventive narrative told at a galloping pace, the first in a series (obviously) so not many of those mysteries get wrapped up by the end (why one character miraculously survived a massacre, who the powerful tutor is who schools Davian (and why), who the leader of the Shadows really is) - we don't even learn the real motivations of some of the main characters. I suspect though that the crux is going to be the interplay between a pretty extreme form of predestination and a desire by many of the characters to decide their own way. That would give point to the series of visions described here and accepted by most of the protagonists as inevitable: to the backstories involving dreadful crimes by people who come across as quite decent (is there more to it? Surely there is!) and to the... how can I describe it... sense of gameplaying that sometimes seems to be going on.

So, if you appreciate fantasy I think you'll like what is a fairly straight down the line epic.  My only reservation would be that you need to pay close attention to those visions - the details matter once they start to come true - and if you don't you'll be flipping back and forward, as I was, reminding yourself exactly what was going on.

*Tome: A book of more than 500 pages in which magic happens. May or may not contain dragons.

Guest post by Alex Caan: Character takeover

I'm pleased today to welcome Alex Caan, author of Cut to the Bone, with a guest post.

Cut to the Bone, published on 3 November by Bonnier Zaffre, has been compared to THE FALL, Sarah Hilary and MJ Arlidge. It is a slick, dark modern thriller that deals with contemporary issues of privacy vs internet stardom - the paranoid world of tech and cyber-security.

Ruby is a vlogger, a rising star of YouTube and a heroine to millions of teenage girls. And she's missing. She's an adult - nothing to worry about, surely? Until the video's uploaded. Ruby, in the dirt and pleading for her life.

So... about characters then.  Do they “take over” (some authors says yes to this, some quite strongly insist they (the author) remain in control)? Over to Alex for his thoughts...

‘The character just took over…’ Erm ok. I often wonder about this process, does the writer become possessed by some creative force or spirit, that drives them on to channel a fictional entity, making them write things they never would? I sit there sometimes writing, and want this to happen. It would make my life easier and my procrastination/worrying would be pretty minimal. (I am writing ‘that’ difficult second novel atm so…) They don’t though. I need to tell them what to do and say.

Or do I?

When writing Zain for example, his Turkish heritage (my love of Istanbul), his passion for Puccini (my own) are mine. His fitness levels (Krav Maga anyone?) are what I’d love to do. So I’m giving him my own interests- but still he’s not me. When writing a scene featuring Zain I channel something. Not him exactly, but it’s a mindset. The front part of my brain feels loaded in a different way, and my senses seem to be extensions of his. So as I write, the words I use, the language, the patterns and ultimately the actions, are his. Or what I associate with him. Zain is a tortured soul, hot headed because he is so broken, secretive because his trust in everything is breaking, and pushed into a place where right and wrong often don’t figure in his version of what feels good. He’s essentially my version of an Ottoman vampire, only dressed up as a former Spook turned cop. And his life is going to get a lot darker and bleaker as the series progresses. Only, why would I set out to do that to someone? Especially one of my leads? So is he writing himself, is he demanding I be true to him, and write him the way he should be written? Then how does this equate with my notion that my characters are often idealised versions of myself? What I want to say or do?

The same happens with Kate. She is extremely intelligent, measured, but also has a reckless streak in her which she justifies in her own world view. Is this me? I think I do the same, especially when I don’t conform. Well hey I can write my own rules right? But the rest? When writing her parts she again was there, in that front part of the brain, and I was thinking and viewing the world in a way that was strange. How can that be? How could I possibly look at a situation and respond to it in a way that I never would? Is this a supernatural thing? Or am I simply a conduit and writing things I have picked up over a lifetime of experience? Everyone I’ve met, everything I’ve read and watched? All of it outpouring onto my pages? This seems more likely an explanation when writing. What am I giving Kate of myself? My love of New England, American law enforcement, the FBI and The X Files? A moral core I admire in others, wish I had, or have somewhere but never get to use? I crave justice, for myself and others, and Kate does that.

And then there’s the villains. How do you get into the head of the worst of people? People who think it’s ok to cross lines without any thought of others? Hannibal Lecter in Thomas Harris’ novels is a classic example. Alex Thorne in Angela Marson’s Kim Stone series is another. And I am itching to write a villain like that, really get under their skin. But can I risk having them in my brain? Will I be the same again? I’m not sure, but I’m willing to try. Because if there were no rules, and I was so inclined, how would I work?

Then again, both Kate and Zain have their own shades of grey, Zain in particular has A LOT of this. So possibly I’m unleashing my darkness through Zain, and using Kate as a balance?

So I think I’m confusing myself. I don’t believe that characters takeover. And yet I believe something happens when I write my own. Maybe characters are simply keys, they unlock in us our experiences, freeing them from the rooms and cells we keep them in? Things we don’t even know we have experienced in some form, but with the write character, the lock is broken and you find yourself bursting onto the page in ways that shock even your own sensibilities.

Whatever the truth, what I can say is that writing characters is the most fun I’ve ever had.

Thanks Alex!

Cut to the Bone is out now, available from the usual places - your local bookshop, here, here or here